#finwe noldoran

[soothingmoonlight]

It never ceases to amaze me the number of the times Tolkien mentioned Finwe's love for Fëanor. I think there are no other fathers in the legendarium whose love for their son or daughter is as talked about as is Finwë's love for Fëanor.

In that time was born in Eldamar, in the house of the King in Tirion upon the crown of Tuna, the eldest of the sons of Finwe, and the most beloved. Curufinwe was his name, but by his mother he was called Feanor, Spirit of Fire; - The Silmarillion, Chapter 6, Of Fëanor and The Unchaining of Melkor

All his love he gave to his son; for Fëanaró was like his mother in voice and countenance, and Finwë was to him both father and mother, and there was a double bond of love upon their hearts. - Morgoth's Ring, The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II), Laws A

...Yet the shadow of Miriel did not depart from his heart, and Fëanaró always had the chief share of his thoughts. - Morgoth's Ring, The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II), Laws A

... And in spite of all that later happened his eldest son remained nearest to Finwë's heart. - The Peoples of Middle-earth, The Shibboleth of Fëanor

Thither also came Finwë the King, because of the love that he bore to Fëanor. - The Silmarillion, Chapter 7, Of The Silmarils and The Unrest Of The Noldor

There is a different version of the last quote in Morgoth's Ring which I personally prefer to the one we got in the published Silmarillion. The way it is worded gives a clear answer to the question why Finwë followed Fëanor in exile to Formenos.

With him went his sons, and Finwë his father, who would not be parted from him, in fault or guiltless. - - Morgoth's Ring, The Later Quenta Silmarillion (II), Later Chapter 6, Of The Silmarils and The Unrest Of The Noldor

Finwe did not follow Fëanor in exile because he felt like his authority as King of the Noldor was diminished by the Valar and they got involve in a situation that should have been Finwë's to handle.

He also did not follow Fëanor in exile because of some sort of guilt related to the fact that he is Fëanor's only parent and his son has nobody else left.

No.

Finwë willingly followed Fëanor in exile because he would not be parted from him, in fault or guiltless. It was never about Fëanor being right or wrong in this particular situation or any another. That is irrelevant to Finwë and it does not effect his decision. Finwë would follow Fëanor always regardless of whether his son was guilty of any transgression or not.

It's worth pointing out that Finwë did not hesitate to part from his kingship, from his people, from Indis, from his and Indis' children. But there is only one person Finwë never wants to be parted from and that is Fëanor.

... and I love that!

[dalliansss]

oh!! I am so sorry I didn’t see the tags in the anon who asked for thingol and finwe, and wanted to know the lore around them in your headcanons

I am sending a separate ask, can you tell us all about them?

For proper context: [From Cuiviénen with Love]

First and foremost this is a collab AU with my good friend @skaelds. Special shout-outs to @elentarial and @antares0606

Basic premise is, during the days of Cuiviénen, Finwë is a the most skilled hunter of the Tatyar of his generation. He is an eligible bachelor in a society that's all about providing for family and perpetuating their numbers. He is eyeing to take as wife and husband Míriel, also of his kindren, and Elwë, an equally accomplished elf of his generation from the Nelyar.

Life in Cuiviénen is hard. The elves do not advance much, because their society is beset from all sides by the threat of Morgoth and his creatures, but they do have a way of life already. For one, elves of that time were encouraged to have as many children as they can to keep up their numbers. An elf usually has two or more spouses. An ellon is expected to take two wives first, sire his children, before he can marry whom he likes afterward. Finwë is a bit of a radical in this regard, because he wants to go for Elwë when he has no wife yet and has no children of his own. His Great Ancestor Tata would not have approved, and neither would Enel of the Nelyar.

Anyway-- the elves had large families with many children, but only the strongest survive to adulthood. Disappearances and deaths were very common at that time, and the elves of Cuiviénen were of a different strength that their later, Amanyar counterparts.

Finwë eventually succeeds to have his wish, marrying both Míriel and Elwë. They establish a household of their own near the shores of the great lake, because Elwë is a fisherman by trade. Eventually, Elwë relocates his little brothers Olwë and Elmo to also live with them. Olwë and Elmo grow close to Finwë and Míriel.

Míriel is actually able to achieve three prior pregnancies before Fëanáro, but all these births were either miscarriages or stillbirths. This is one of the strongest motivations of Finwë and Elwë in eventually volunteering as ambassadors of the elves, and eventually leading the Great March from Cuiviénen.

Later, when they reach Beleriand, Elwë urges Finwë and Míriel to take their people and go with Ingwë and his numbers. The Teleri are prone to dawdling because of their whimsical nature and great numbers. Finwë and Míriel reluctantly go ahead with the Noldor.

Melian the maia was sent precisely to delay Elwë, or outright prevent him from reaching Valinor. Because Elwë is the more strongly-opinionated of Finwë's spouses and even before the Quendi set out from Cuiviénen, Elwë was among the strongest and loudest advocates of the elves having the right to retain their old way of life, and that no sudden changes be imposed on their people.

If we go on more canon routes, Melian succeeds. But in this AU, Elwë eventually breaks free from Nan Elmoth, but fifty years has passed. He manages to sail west. Again, the Valar waylay him, this time, sending Ossë. Ossë manages to delay him again for two decades, but Salmar discovers this and helps Elwë escape. Elwë at last reaches Valinor, but he is too late: Míriel has died, Fëanáro is born and grew up with no knowledge of him, and Finwë is wed again to Indis, having previously given up hope that Elwë would come to Valinor.

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

Ok but imagine the Noldor trying to have a nice banquet after the entire Finwean Fam has been therapized and released from Mandos. Except Eonwë is the one announcing the names and titles as people arrive (it’s supposed to be a sign of goodwill from the Valor).

All goes well (except when he announces to the entire room that “Fingon Findékano Astaldo Nolofiniwion, Prince of The Noldor and Husband of Maedhros Neylafinwë Maitimo Feanorian” has arrived. In his defense, Eonwë didn’t know secret marriages could last almost four ages). But the Real Drama starts when Elrond arrives.

When Elrond arrives; Eonwë looks at the Peredhel in the entranceway, looks at his magic Scroll of Heritage-Information, and there is a long moment of silence where Eonwë contemplates if he really wants to spend 5 whole minutes announcing Elrond’s heritages.

Eonwë, in the end, decides to take a shortcut. Cuz how wrong could it go? As such, he announced to the Finwean Fam, several courtiers, several politicians, and to the face of Finwe’s actual children that “Elrond, Lord of Imladris Remade, Descendant of Finwë Noldoran and Elwë Singollo, and [Insert Celebrian’s Introduction] has arrived.”

Speculations rise, and whispers are everywhere about what the hell “Descendant of Finwë and Elwë” could mean. (A lovechild, somebody says once jokingly).

Elrond was expecting Earendilion, Neylafinwion, or Kanafinwion, even Peredhel. He was not expecting the first kings of the Noldor and Sindar themselves to be named.

Anyway, the worst part is that because of Mixed Ancestry, Elrond actually does look like a combination of Finwë and Elwë. The lovechild rumors grow.

[averytinylizard]

RATING THE NAMES OF FINWË, WIVES AND CHILDREN.

i will be rating them based on aesthetic and meaning separately. i will be using the names in the silmarillion plus all the names in the shibboleth of fëanor, using the latter as the source for the meanings or tolkien gateway in case none is given. i refuse to rate names like finweg (1/10 aesthetically), or maidros (meaning pale glitter) because i don't hate myself.

disclaimer: names beginning with fin will get an automatic 1 on the sound category.

finwë: aesthetically it's fine. just fine. nothing wrong with it. 6.5/10. it literally doesn't mean anything. technically it means something like hair person, but even the text calls finwë's connection with hair doubtful. 1/10

noldoran: meh. 5/10. it means king of the noldor. also meh. 5/10.

miriel: sounds like a name you give to a grandma unfortunately. 3/10. it means jewel-daughter. it is pretty generic. 4/10.

Þerind/serinde: i like Þerinde better, but both are very good. 9/10 and 8/10 respectively. meaning wise, this is the best one so far. like. the Broideress is very specific to her. 10/10

indis: i like it! it's fine. not much to write home about. 7/10. meaning wise it slaps. great or valiant woman. god that's cool. 9/10 for coolness, while unfortunately lacking in specificity.

finwë (what finwë called all his sons before they started showing distinguishing personality traits): soundwise same as dad. points docked for beginning with fin. 1/10. meaning wise it's just lazy on finwë's part. 2/10.

Kurufinwë: i don't like the way it sounds. it trips me up when i tray to find where the emphasis goes. 3/10. meaning wise it's fine. fëanor is pretty skilled. 6/10

fëanaro: i like the sindarin version better. still pretty good. 7/10. meaning wise it rocks. spirit of fire. 10/10

fëanor: very good! 8/10. technically the correct sindarin version would be faenor, so i have to dock some points in this category. 8/10.

findis: see the fin disclaimer. also it sounds like a worse version of her mom's name. 1/10. don't name your child a combination of your wife's name and yours. 1/10.

irimë: it's fine! 6.5/10. according to tolkien gateway, it probably comes from irima meaning desirable, lovely. there are good ways to name your kid pretty, calling them desirable is not one of them. 2/10.

irien: another father-name for her given in the very same paragraph. what the hell jirt. 1/10 in both categories for being unable to choose.

lalwende: sounds fine! 6.5/1. i like the meaning of it, laughing maiden. 9/10.

lalwen: sounds a little better than above. 7/10. means the same thing, same rating: 9/10.

nolofinwë: for some reason it doesn't trip me up the same way as kurufinwë. also, the n, l and w sound so soft in comparison to the f, it makes the name an interesting sound and rythm. 8/10. wise finwë. the meaning is fine, not sure how much it applie to a guy who got in a duel with morgoth. 5/10.

finwë nolofinwë: even ignoring the fact that it's a fin name, it sounds awful and way too long. way to ruin your own name dude. 1/10. on the meaning of the name, jirt has this to say: Fingolfin had prefixed the name Finwe to Nolofinwe before the Exiles reached Middle-earth. This was in pursuance of his claim to be the chieftain of all the Noldor after the death of Finwe, and so enraged Feanor that it was no doubt one of the reasons for his treachery in abandoning Fingolfin and stealing away with all the ships. a name so bad it caused your brother to betray you. 1/10.

fingolfin: fin name gets automatic 1/10. also it literally doesn't mean anything. 2/10 because it didn't cause a schism in the noldor.

arafinwë: back to tripping me up. 3/10. noble finwë. it's fine! 6/10.

Arfin: the name finarfin was referred by in middle-earth before finrod changed his name to finarfin. it sounds like garbage. 1/10. same meaning as above, same rating. 6/10.

finarfin: what finrod started calling his father after the death of fingolfin. fin name, automatic 1/10. it's either a symbolic power grab after the death of the king (in which case, what the hell finrod) or a way to honor him by giving a name almost as awful and politically messy as the one fingolfin gave himself. either way 2/10.

[tolkien-feels]

Do you ever think about how the grandkids of Finwe are persistently shown to hang out together? Because I think Finwe "I understand this will break the laws of the universe but I really want a large family to be happy together" Noldoran was probably semi-constantly vibrating off his skin whenever he saw his grandkids just sort of having fun together for no reason other than they're family and enjoy each other's company. Like yeah his eldest sons don't get along but most of his family does, actually, and that's not nothing

[aragornsrockcollection]

I think I officially have 4 drafts where I start explaining this one headcanon and get my words all twisted up and save it to try to fix later, so fuck it, let’s go direct as possible:

I think Finwe suspected Melkor was going to try to steal the Silmarils and intentionally intercepted him.

That’s why he didn’t go to the festival of reconciliation. He orchestrated matters so he would be the only casualty by sending his grandsons off on a hunt when Melkor was most likely to strike: When the other Valar and Feanor were sure to be occupied in Valmar.

Reasons this makes sense to me:

Finwe is literally called Noldoran, “king of the smart elves” and this would let him actually be smart in the story.

The Festival of Reconciliation was the most politically significant thing to happen to the Noldor since his remarriage, it is literally his sons that are reconciling over their place as his successors, there is no other good reason he would not go and let the Valar preside over it on their own. Especially if the reason he followed Feanor to Formenos was to show solidarity against the Valar butting in to his family’s business.

The fact that everyone else is out is SO convenient.

He’s in the perfect position to see what is going on, but also not want to make his increasingly unstable son more paranoid by lending his fears legitimacy.

He couldn’t have known about Ungoliant, the darkening and the unlight, so it’s possible he thought he could delay Melkor long enough that the Valar could catch up to him.

This would actually be a solid plan, as his sacrifice would be temporary, and events had proven his family could not be safe while Melkor remained unchained. If someone had to face the dark Vala, best it be someone who had actually had to fight for their life before, such as someone who remembered Cuivienen, and had led their people across Endor to Valinor.

In a theoretical world where Ungoliant did not get involved, this situation may have been possible: The Valar capture and bring to justice Finwe’s murderer immediately, and freely return the Silmarils to Feanor. Either Feanor follows through with his plans to go to Endor, in which case Fingolfin (who has no reason to go with him if their father is already avenged) remains king in Tirion, or Fingolfin freely hands the crown over to his brother, showing Feanor that he has no need to fear his brother usurping him. His paranoia is proved false twice over, and the source of his corruption is removed, and Feanor comes to his senses.

Look, he couldn’t have known the exact opposite of all of that would happen. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[mothdalf]

@finweanladiesweek

DAY ONE: Míriel Þerindë and Indis

I’ve depicted them both in their wedding gowns here, sort of two different moments in time linked together.

Under the cut is a VERY long head-canon/meta that eventually kind of turned into a fic, hidden in case you just want to focus on the art.

Indis is a Vanyar lady from the House of Ingwë, I like to think she was close in age to Finwë and they met when the Vanyar and Noldor first arrived in Valinor. They end up dancing and socialising at pretty much every event and are pretty good friends. That friendship has the potential to change into something romantic. But what’s the rush? They’re immortal. He’s a king, finally establishing a safe place for his people. There’s no danger here. No need to produce heirs. No need to marry the first person you dance with.

Míriel didn’t enter the picture until later. I like to think of her as half-Telerin hence her silver hair. Her parents were a Noldor nis and a Telerin ner who met during the great journey, her mother choosing to remain with her husband and the Teleri who lingered East of the sea. As a result Míriel was born on Tol Eressëa, and is quite a bit younger than Finwë and Indis.

Despite her typically Telerin looks, Míriel was a Noldor at heart and immersed herself in Noldorin culture and craft, soon settling on embroidery and weaving. She even journeyed to the House of Vairë to further her textiles skills and learn from the Vala and her Maiar.

I like the idea that many elves in Valinor follow a specific Valar, learning from them and acting as emissaries and ambassadors and links between them and the elves. Any elf can choose this (e.g. Celegorm and Oromë) but it is more common among the Vanyar. It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So they meet in the House of Vairë. And they’re very different. Indis is philosophical, interested in the themes, and the music, and the history of Vairë’s tapestries; Míriel inspects the stitches with a magnifying glass, and has to be stopped more than once from teasing the fibres apart to see how they’re woven together.

Indis channels logic and a cool composure, very insightful and granted foresight in many matters. She’s mindful, and always present, finding pleasure in this very moment. Míriel buzzes with ideas, sometimes her head hurts and she can’t think straight because she HAS to work through this next project, move on to the next one, she can’t step away she can’t stop. And her composure can be obliterated by one blow to her pride.

But somehow the friendship works, opposites attract sometimes. And upon their return from the house of Vairë, Míriel invites Indis to Alqualondë. And after that they visit each other often, and share letters once Míriel has learned to write Sarati. And if those letters ever start to take on a more flirting tone- well there’s no rush for them either.

It’s on one of these visits that they run into Finwë, Indis introduces her new friend, and the rest is history. It’s only after this that Indis turns her keen insight on herself and has an “oh shhiiit” moment. And now her best friends are engaged and what is she supposed to do?

She helps Míriel dress for her wedding day, arranging jewels, combing her hair, lifting the heavy embroidered fabric of the wedding dress she worked for months on over her head, and finally placing her crown on top.

They’re happy. She’s happy for them. There’s no betrayal or tricks or seduction, just love. Besides it’s probably better Finwë marries a Noldor woman anyway.

So when Míriel announces that she’s expecting a baby, Indis is sure the dull foreboding she feels is nothing but jealousy from a deep part of herself that she tries to shut away. She watches and helps Míriel as she pours all her creative efforts into beautiful things for this baby. Toys and clothes and blankets and anything else she can think of. Indis teases that the child won’t have to repeat an outfit for at least 100years at this rate. They take a trip back to the place they met and work together at one of Vairë’s vast looms to make a tapestry mural for the nursery.

But soon the frenzied crafting starts to slow. And slow more. Until Míriel barely bothers to do anything. People who know her are worried, but she just takes her husbands hand and says that she’s tired, after all she is working on something special at the moment.

When Fëanáro is born Indis watches her friend scream and curse, and eventually weep with joy as she whispers to her husband “he’s the most perfect thing we’ve ever made”

Things do get better for a while. But Míriel’s eye starts to twitch when people congratulate Finwë on their son, until eventually she barks out “of course he’d get the credit! I only did all the hard work” in a rough, sarcastic laugh that’s so unlike her. She doesn’t go to any formal events after this.

She sobs to her husband that she’s frightened. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s happy, except that she’s not. She finds no joy and no inspiration, she’s cold and tired and feels like she’s fading away.

Finwë suggests a trip away, so they go back to Míriels house in Alqualondë, and she doesn’t feel as watched, as judged, less angry and paranoid.

But the grief doesn’t lift. She can’t settle to work, she can’t find anything she wants to work on, her head is emptied of ideas and full of fog and she just wants to sleep.

Indis comes to visit them and finds Míriel in the nursery one evening, crying quietly. At first she won’t talk, simply saying that she doesn’t want to wake him, but the tears don’t stop and eventually she whimpers that she’s scared, and she’s disgusted with herself. Because she loves her son so much, but she can’t help but resent him. In some small dark part of her mind she’s angry with him, for taking her happy life away from her, taking her strength and her drive.

Indis takes her hands and pulls her to her feet and down the stairs to Finwë. “we’re going to Lorien. Tonight. Staying here isn’t helping her and she needs more than this.” She towers over both of them and there’s no arguing with her tone.

Irmo and Estë help all they can. Nienna helps more. Eventually Míriel calms. Almost eerily.

One night she calls Indis to the garden of Lorien. Míriel embraces her and kisses her cheeks and thanks her for her help. She holds her hands and tells her she’s sorry, but she’s made her choice.

Indis tried to change her mind. So does Finwë when he runs toward the sound of a raised voice. Not Míriel this time.

She asks Indis for a moment with her husband. And Indis runs to fetch Fëanáro.

She hands the baby to Míriel and asks how she can leave him, he needs her.

Míriel’s face crumples but her resolve doesn’t. “I’ve already given him everything I have”

She presses the baby into her husbands arms and kisses him before lying down on the stone bench and closing her eyes. Míriel sighs, finally feeling peaceful, and doesn’t breath again.

After the resulting uproar has died down, Indis doesn’t see Finwë very much. She visits occasionally and reads his letters about Fëanáro’s brilliant progress eagerly, but nothing is ever as it was.

When they meet again by accident on Oiolossë, it all comes back to them both. They’ve missed each other, they miss Miriel, but they don’t have to loose each other. So they fall in love, and she comes back with him to Tirion while they make a plan. Fëanáro (the equivalent of a 10yo) is wonderfully pleasant to her, he asks about his mother a lot, and shows her all the things he’s learning about and working on. He’s so like Miriel that Indis doesn’t know how Finwë stands it.

When they first tell him that they want to get married, he doesn’t think much of it, at least until he picks up on the gossip and controversy, it’s only then that he starts to realise that something is different.

Indis gets ready for her own wedding without her best friend.

Fëanáro doesn’t take the Statute well, and the problems start. He decides to move away to continue his studies. Indis is not invited to visit him when his Father is.

Finwë is terrified when Indis gets pregnant with their first child, but she’s not. “I am not Miriel. As much as some might wish that were the case.”

The relationship between Fëanáro and his half siblings is a whole separate post. But the things he says about her and her children hurt Indis.

Sometimes she wants to scream at him “I knew your mother! I was her friend! I lost her too! She would hate to hear you talk to me this way!” but she won’t. She can see how he feels and she understands why, but this doesn’t mean she takes the way he treats her children lightly, and he wishes Finwë would back her more in this. But she bares it, and she teaches her children to be kind.

This all changes with the incident. Fëanáro can lash out, he can say cruel things, but he has never threatened one of her children before. And he never will again if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. She hears the Valar’s judgement, and knows she will comfort Finwë over his sons banishment, as much as she is grateful for it.

The rage she feels when Finwë decides to go with him is cosmic. But it’s when she sees Nolofinwë’s face that she snaps. She tells him with eyes sharper than any sword that if he chooses to go, he can never come back to her. No matter what happens between his sons, she will never forgive him for what he’s doing to her’s.

The news of his death makes her heart hurt in the strangest way. She’s closed herself off from him but the pain bleeds through. At least now he can be with Miriel, she thinks. He made it clear where his heart truly lay when he left. She laughs until she sobs, then composes herself to comfort her children.

She nearly sends Fëanáro to reunite with his father in Mandos when he insights her children and grandchildren to follow him across the sea. She nearly faints when Arafinwë comes back baring tidings of the kinslaying, the streets Míriel showed her around littered with bodies and the beach they would walk along in the evening wet with blood.

Indis stands beside her youngest son when he’s crowned and moves back into her old rooms in Tirion, abandoned when Finwë left for Formenos. After all, she’s been a ruling queen for longer than Arafinwë has lived. She’ll make a good advisor.

In Mandos Míriel is faced by the life she chose to leave behind. First her husband, and then her son. She speaks with Finwë for a long time, and many hurts are healed, but they’ve both made choices they can’t take back. Míriel stands by her decision, she chose to stay, at least in part so Finwë could move on, they make their peace with other, and she encourages him to return and make peace with his other wife. News of their son’s death stops him. He knows that he will remain, it’s with Fëanáro that his heart truly lies, not Míriel, whatever Indis may think. So he appeals for her to be allowed to leave in his place, every inch the king as he points out that the statute will remain unbroken.

She is allowed to see Fëanáro once before she leaves. There are no words for how she feels. So sad, so proud. She’s so sorry to leave him again, but she promises to watch over his sons.

Míriel returns to life, but she doesn’t return to the life she left. She stays close to the halls, and goes to a timeless place, but one she knows well.

It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So much is different, and there’s a lot to work through, and it’s hard. But being back where they began, with a new life for each of them, is made easier with this reprise of their youth.

And if, as their friendship blooms again into a new form, Míriel eventually asks about the specific wording of the statute, and what it means for them being the two living parts of this three person marriage, well- there’s no rush to figure it out.

[thefatedfinwe]

Finwë

[thegirlwhohid]

...The Noldor were beloved of Aulë, and he and his people came often among them. Great became their knowledge and their skill; yet even greater was their thirst for more knowledge, and in many things they soon surpassed their teachers. They were changeful in speech, for they had great love of words, and sought ever to find names more fit for all things that they knew or imagined. And it came to pass that the masons of the house of Finwë, quarrying in the hills after stone (for they delighted in the building of high towers), first discovered the earth-gems, and brought them forth in countless myriads; and they devised tools for the cutting and shaping of gems, and carved them in many forms. They hoarded them not, but gave them freely, and by their labour enriched all Valinor.

Finwë moodboard

The Silmarillion characters: (30/?)

Characters’ moodboards: (230/?)

[comparativelysuperlative]

Everyone gets mad at Feanor for naming his kid “Third Finwe,” but Finwe picking the name Nolofinwe is kind of doing the same thing?

Like, “hi everyone, this is my kid future Ñoldoran of the house of FInwe.” (Even if you think “future Noldoran” is a stretch, “representative of the Noldor and the attributes they value” really isn’t.)

Finwe might have intended this. Not the part about the succession, but he does have reasons to emphasize the kid’s legitimacy. But if Feanor had named a kid this we’d absolutely be taking it as an aggressive claim about who should be king. And it wouldn’t be out of nowhere.

And sure, naming a kid Nelyafinwe is worse. Feanor is escalating to “no, you specifically don’t count” and ditching plausible deniability. But he probably does think Finwe started it.

[galadhremmin]

realisation that Findis (Finwë + Indis) was not Finwe’s only suburban mum type naming moment lolol. He did it again with Nolofinwe. His name is Finwe Nol(doran). Nol. Finwë. Nolofinwë. 

he just didn’t involve Indis for this one.

Of course Fëanor felt threatened by his baby brother being named that way... there’s a note on him worrying about his position as heir because Finwë initially named all three of his sons Finwion (later adding Curu- Nolo- Ara-), which especially makes sense when you know that “Finwë” basically functioned as a title for “King” later on (which is why Fingolfin adds a ‘fin’ when he claims Kingship). 

But pasting together a name that is made up out of the elements of his own name + title Noldoran (which actually means king of all Noldor) in much the same way as Findis is Finwe Indis.... Nolofinwë.

 What exactly was Finwë thinking because it might not have been the intent at all but...how else was Fëanor supposed to take it? The Noldor make fairly subtle changes in pronunciation into a political issue, naming your son from your new, improved, Valar-blessed marriage for what sounds like your own name (which often functions as a title) + the word for wisdom which just so happens to sound like the start of your official title... 

This is how I would name a second child if I wanted them to fight so the strongest contender for the throne would survive lmao, which does not seem to have been the intent.

[dalliansss]

little sunshine

As he is wont to do, Finwe Noldoran gets to the council room in the palace at Tirion way before any of the Lords are allowed into the bright and airy chambers. Scrolls are waiting by his end of the table, as do a platter of honey-glazed doughnuts, a basket of fruits and a silver pitcher of chilled wine. There is also coffee, should he want it. As the King surveys the topmost scroll from today’s pile, he hears a soft giggle.

He looks up.

Pattering toward him, from Eru-knows-where, is his seventh grandson, little Artafinde, the first child of his third son Arafinwe. Finwe’s soft cheeks round up as he smiles as his little golden grandson waddles toward him. 

“Hello there, little one, good morrow to you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Finwe sets his scroll aside, pushes his high-backed chair back a little so he can accommodate the over-eager elfling, who clambers up, up, up on his lap, clutching a handful of his robes. He scoops up little Artafinde and sits him on his lap. The king immediately buries his nose into those perfect golden locks, breathing deep – and the little one smells like lavender and roses. 

“Grampa, grampa,” Artafinde giggles. “I hide? I hide with you? Please?”

“Ai, what are you hiding from, little one?”

The child answers with a giggle. “No tell!”

The double doors open. The Lords of the Noldor start coming in, and many quirk their eyebrows up at the sight of the little golden prince on the king’s lap. But Finwe’s brilliant smile brooks no time for questions. Everybody resumes their place, and before council officially begins, Finwe has something to say.

“Welcome my lords. My grandson will be joining us today; someone is way too excited to be part of this council and cannot wait.”

Which is answered by laughter. State business proceeds. Finwe listens to all concerns and petitions, pausing here and there to kiss at his little grandson’s hair, or else poke Artafinde’s round, pink cheeks, or pat that little round tummy of his. Yes, excellent, this is good— a round little elfling meant a well-fed and well-taken care of elfling. Finwe would not suffer any malnourished child, his or not, as long as he reigned over the Noldor. Aman is a land of bliss and plenty, and all who dwell in it should display it — good health in full view included. 

To his credit, little Artafinde is very well-behaved. He is content to sit on his grandfather’s lap; helping himself to a handful of Finwe’s gorgeous dark hair to chew and drool on. Otherwise he fidgets only gently, turning here and there to nuzzle at his grandfather, or touch Finwe’s cheek, and get himself a smidge of attention and a dimpled smile this way. 

The council is discussing some roads that need new paving when the double doors across the room open just a little, and the dark-haired nursemaid tending to Artafinde peeks inside. She scans the room, sees her charge on his grandfather’s lap, and her eyes bulge. But Finwe winks at her, raising a finger to his own lips. No matter. He has his grandson. He’ll take care of it. The elleth is quick to understand the cue, and so she hastily curtsies and quietly leaves, closing the door as quietly as she can. On Finwe’s lap, Artafinde giggles.

Council drones on and on. Artafinde helps himself to one of the doughnuts, biting into it – thus getting sugar on his chubby, pink cheeks and a dollop of strawberry filling on his chest, effectively ruining his tunic. He doesn’t care. He eats and eats, until he finishes the doughnut. He licks his fingers clean and claps.

Council pauses on account of this applause, but Finwe simply laughs and gently redirects business to resume. Adult talk continues to drone onward.

He is a restless child, Artafinde Ingoldo. He can stay still for about an hour, or two, but then he will soon start to bounce up, and look for something else to occupy his mind with. It drives Arafinwe and Earwen mad; their son is a little escape artist, notorious for his ability to escape his own nursery so he can run around, sneak into other people’s gardens, wallow in their muddy vegetable patches, or else find himself all the way to Tirion’s central fountain swimming around as if he were a giant goldfish. An adventurer in the making, Finwe told Arafinwe once upon a time.

That restlessness is bubbling now. Artafinde pushes himself up onto his feet, standing on his grandfather’s thighs. He cups Finwe’s cheeks with sugar dusted and drool-sticky hands, and paps the soft flesh there. Finwe puckers his lips for a kiss, but Artafinde giggles and dodges the kiss. But then he smooches his grandfather loudly on the chin.

“Grampa! Love you! Mwah!” Artafinde declares.

(And perhaps, many of the Lords in the King’s Council remember their own little elflings, and sigh.)

Before Finwe can ask his grandson to sit, Artafinde shimmies down from Finwe’s lap and waddles around the council room like a fat penguin chick. He tugs on the lords’ sleeves, and when the men look at him, he gives them his most convincing puppy expression.

“Eat? Eat?” Artafinde asks. (For Finwe instilled in all of his grandchildren a love of food and eating, even more so on the babies. His sons complain that he has a tendency to make his grandchildren round. Artafinde is no exception.) “Mellow eat?”

The Lords coo and sigh. Someone gives Artafinde a nougat. Another hands over a small packet of sugared peanuts. Another gives him a fudge bar. Someone gives him a banana, and another a dragonfruit. 

Now, Artafinde has not seen dragonfruit before. When he gets given this gift, his eyes grow to their widest extent yet, and he waddles back excitedly toward Grampa, now effectively disrupting the council as he lifts the dragonfruit for Finwe to see.

“Grampa! Grampa! What is? What? Can eat? Can eat with Innoldo? Eat? Grampa! Ai!”

Finwe swears he will melt. He looks to his lords with a helpless smile. “Thirty minute recess, everyone. Thank you, thank you.”

As the lords shake their heads and pack up their belongings and stand and stretch, Finwe remains seated. He hoists Artafinde back up onto his lap and attacks those cute cheeks with kisses. 

“Alright, we will eat the fruit together.”

A servant is summoned, and the dragonfruit is momentarily taken, where it is washed, and peeled, and then sliced into elfling-friendly chunks and served. Artafinde wiggles excitedly on Finwe’s lap as he beholds the fruit’s red flesh. He quickly fishes for slices with his fingers and eats in the clumsiness of a toddler. Finwe eats in a more dignified manner, using a fork. Yum yum.

Artafinde looks like a murder scene. Red juice all over his cheeks, chin, neck, chest and hands. His clothes can no longer be saved, but Finwe can and will commission a million clothes for him and all of his grandsons, if needed. 

“Delicious dragonfruit, no?” Finwe smiles as he wipes his baby grandson’s cheeks with his sleeve, now also destroying his robes. Ah, no matter. 

“Lishoos,” Artafinde agrees, chirping. “Lishoos fruit! Thank you, grampa! Love you! Mwah!”

Finwe laughs. He squeezes Artafinde in a hug, and kisses the child’s golden hair. 

[amethysttribble]

So like, in the One Piece Silm AU, Valinor is a an island in the Paradise part of the Grandline, with its relatively peaceful mini kingdoms, but also ruled from afar by the weirdly involved Celestial Dragons who used to rule it, the family Valar

And Melkor was banished from Marijoise but allowed back into Valinor and started wrecking canon shit, but under the guise of being an emissary from the Revolutionary Army (he is not, but he and Dragon do know each other)

Feanor- fed up with Valinor’s Wano esque isolation policy (in effect so that the Valar can travel to and from Marijoise without being ‘contaminated’ cough marred cough)- eats these lies and the ones about his half-brother up, and after Finwe dies (plus the Trees, similar to the Adam and Eve trees) stages his revolution to chase after Melkor

To do this and defy the Valar, he of course has to become a pirate

How the burning of the ships would go is more complicated here, I’m inclined to think Feanor takes half a fleet of stolen ships and burns the other so Fingolfin can’t follow ( he’ll figure it out)

Feanor dies in the first 5 secs of the New World while trying to chase Melkor, and his son Maedhros briefly becomes captain before being imprisoned on the notorious Shichibukai’s island

Eventually Nolofinwe’s fleet get there and Fingon rescues Maedhros from Island Angband, and Maedhros surrenders their pirate flag, instead choosing to sail under Admiral Fingolfin’s banner

Under his command Noldoran ‘High King’ Fingolfin, has many ships; the most notorious are:

The Himring, captained by ‘Copper Head’ Maedhros

The Gondolin, captained by Noldoran ‘Wise’ Turgon

The Nargothrond, captained by Finrod the Badger

They sail the seas, the destruction of Angband and their king, Bauglir ‘Morgoth’ Melkor, captain of the Ancalagon, their goal. And if the light of the silmarils is rumored to pierce through the fog that surrounds Raftel?

Well, to be king of the pirates is just a bonus

And perhaps, Finwe’s true name just so happened to be Noldoran D. Finwe, and he just so happened to pass that name down to his sons, and their sons and daughters

[light-of-the-damned-stars]

Graceful white hands slid over a slender body passing over seductive lines of a boob being rounded and large by elves’ standards, touching nipples, descending into alluring hollows, sliding down to a thin waist and lower to wide hips, passing to bulging elastic buttocks. Supple fingers grabbed the thinnest fabric carefully but persistently, straightening a transparent dress stretched on the chiselled body and having right-ordered punch work and delicate applique. Fire-colored hair scattered in unbridled curls along the inviting curve of a back, hiding a deep neckline for some time to come.

When Nerdanel, a beloved daughter of master Mahtan, the most diligent Vala Aule’s follower, was growing up, there was the change of fashion epochs in Aman in “decorating oneself”, primarily thanks to Miriel Therinde, the first Noldor queene. An expert with the needle spoke extremely harshly about any canvases without patterns, be it curtains, tablecloths, napkins or bed linen, arguing that fabric had right to be beautiful and there is nothing to justify your laziness with silly words about elegance. “Silk and velvet make homes cozy, highlighting uniqueness and individuality of each home! Embroidered canvases are beautiful and sophisticated! You can and should wear them on yourself!” At first, Aman elves didn’t use clothes because Valinor was safe and warm unlike the Cuivienen shores, there was no need to protect a body and it was possible not to spoil their pristine beauty with ineptly-curried animal skins. Of course, it was required to cover especially vulnerable skin areas and wear shoes for working in mountains or smithy, during hunting or long-distance travels but the elves who weren’t engaged in such matters rejoiced at an opportunity to walk naked and chased themselves only with elegant jewelers’ creations. “Skillfully embroidered fabric isn’t worse than stones and metal!” Miriel more and more often repeated these words to her followers and subjects. “And they who can’t create beauty with a thread and doesn’t want to improve skills let them go naked but doesn’t claim in a matter-of-course manner! This isn’t correct but indicative.” Noldoran Finwe supported his queen’s opinion unexpectedly eagerly, assuring with a languid smile that “it’s very interesting for a man to move graceful curtains behind which a beloved desirable woman is hiding.” Styles of “the curtains” began to change, the clothes covered the body more and more, emphasizing its beauty and creating atmosphere of mystery. Nerdanel grew up and saw how some women wear only jeweleries, others hid only boobs and hips with the clothes and still others even covered their hair becoming like flowers with many thinnest petals. It looked marvelously beautiful in any case but man’s reaction was main for the young daughter of the famous master of copper in choosing her image. Seeing how elves’s views change when the fiery-haired beauty appeared became a favorite pastime, Nerdanel dreamed that many would fall in love with her and she would choose the best one and drive him crazy. Let the rest suffer from understanding that they aren’t worthy of the most desired her-elf of Valinor! “No wonder,” young golden-haired Vanyar maidens turned up their noses, “if you don’t shine with beauty of your face, you have to bare your boobs. Poor girl!” “She's probably wise,” Noldier sneered. “Modesty decorates the best!" Teleri she-elves poured their lips. Nerdanel didn’t notice them defiantly and caught with special delight Aman men’s admiring glances. Unfortunate victims couldn’t sometimes take their eyes off the mockingly leerily located jewelries on fabric of a dress which seems to be missing at all. The clothes became more and more accustomed, an attitude to nudity changed, new generations didn’t remember Cuivienen and almost no one was naked even to the waist including men, however, Mahtan's daughter was one of those whose desire to decorate themselves with the clothes didn’t develop into embarrassment of showing the body.

https://ficbook.net/readfic/6544987 Miriel by @bellabergolts

[fuckingfinwions]

Anaire first heard about her family’s fracture from the potter.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true,. She heard about Feanor’s death the same day as everyone else, it was the only thing anyone was talking about.

She didn’t attend the funeral, as she felt no sorrow at his death, but her cook brought the news. Apparently, “the king’s reclusive brother” had been at the funeral, his first formal appearance since Feanor took the throne. Maedhros’s coronation was two days later, and Anaire scrambled to get an invitation. He would be addressing the whole city afterwards, a great speech in the town square, but she had no interest in that. What she cared about was the ceremony for the council, in front of a few hundred nobles. Unless Maedhros wished to pretend Nolofinwe was dead, her husband would have to formally cede his claim the throne. She would see him, hear his voice for the first time in decades.

Still, Anaire was cautious. Argon, for all he wished to meet his father and siblings, was not allowed to attend. She sent him out of the city entirely, to a cousin of her mother who lived halfway up the Pelori. Though none but her and Nolofinwe knew the truth, the resemblance would be unmistakable if they were in the same room. Anaire herself dressed finely but not extravagantly, in hopes of blending into the crowd, and promised herself that she would not cry out no matter what horrors she saw.

After all that effort, she only saw Nolofinwe for less than half an hour, across a crowded room. Anaire recognized the robes he wore; the had been sewn for Aredhel’s first begetting day. She supposed they had been in storage all this time, too fine for a servant but too festooned with his emblem and Finwe’s for anyone else to wear. He stepped forward, and she held her breath, not wanting to miss a word out of her husband’s lips - and hoping, perhaps, that he’d finally denounce his tormentor.

But Nolofinwe only said “I, Nolofinwe Arakano, son of Finwe Noldoran, acknowledge Maitimo Neylafinwe as the rightful King of the Noldor. King Nelyafinwe inherits his right from King Curufinwe, who inherited it from King Finwe the Wise. Myself and my house have no claim on the throne, nor shall we attempt to usurp the proper order.”

Nolofinwe left the stage, and rather than returning to his seat, seemed to be walking out the hall entirely. Anarie wondered if it could really be so simple. Was this all Maedhros demanded? Could she have her family back under one roof tonight, as long as they avoided politics for the rest of their days? She gathered her purse and started to stand up, ready to follow her husband.

Nolofinwe saw her though, and shook his head sadly. He glanced towards the doorway ahead of him, and Anaire saw that it was flanked by royal guards, one of whom already was unclipping something from his belt. Nolofinwe mouthed “Them, not me,” and went through the door, the guard reaching for his wrists and pulling him around the corner.

Anaire sat through the rest of the coronation without paying it much attention. If she paid too much attention to Maedhros, she would think about how he could’ve freed her family and had not; murderously glaring at the new king would draw suspicion. Instead she thought about Nolofinwe’s words. Presumably he was referring to their children? Had he somehow traded their freedom for his own? Or were they still captive, and he was begging her to save her efforts for them?

Anaire thought on this over the next week. She moved back into the house in the city center, as it was the only place her family would know to look for her, rather than the smaller home on the outskirts she shared with Argon. She waited for an piece of news or gossip, but there was no more about the secondary royal family than there had ever been. There were rumors about the sons of Feanor, that King Maedhros had stripped all of them from rank and then immediately given them titles. But the titles seemed to be fewer than he had brothers, rather than more as she would expect if Nolofinwe had bought status for their children.

So eventually, Anaire went to the pottery shop on the far side of town. The owner of the shop knew Aredhel was Anaire’s daughter, but had flatly refused to so much as let them go to dinner together, for fear of Feanor’s anger.

“She’s not apprenticing with me anymore. Said King Maedhros didn’t want her in the city, so she was going to Valmar. Apparently some Vanya named Elenwe was going to take her in. I don’t know why; there are a dozen better potters in the city, and someone who can clean a house can’t be hard to find either.”

The potter looked at Anaire to see how she took the news. She had never asked in detail why her student hated the palace so, but it hadn’t been hard to guess, sitting gingerly on her return and with rope marks when she rolled up her sleeves and bite marks when she tied back her hair. The potter hoped that this Elenwe would be kinder, but she very much expected Aredhel would have more of the same, and had no intention of discussing it with Aredhel’s mother.

However, Anaire was practically beaming. “Elenwe of the Vanyar? Well, then I simply must visit her, it’s been too long since I last traveled west.”

Anaire managed to compose herself for long enough to walk home, but she was overjoyed. Elenwe was Turgon’s wife, and Anaire had met her a few times. (Never with Turgon present, his absences form the city were far too sporadic for her to plan around.) Elenwe would look after Aredhel, even if there was no useful place for her in the household. And if Aredhel had mentioned Elenwe, that meant she was hoping Anaire would find her, that she thought it was safe to do so.

(Perhaps, even, there would be more of Anaire’s children there. Turgon for his wife and Fingon to lead the way on their journey. She had not seen either of them since they were children.)

- Anaire tells Argon it’s safe to come down from the hills

- They wait a month in case Maedhros is having Aredhel’s route watched

- Argon and Anaire travel to Valmar

- Introductions! Aredhel and Elenwe recognize Anaire. Anaire can kind of recognize Turgon.

- Argon is a surprise to everybody. Aredhel had relayed the “guess what we have another kid” message from Anaire to Nolo, but it was all couched in metaphor so Feanor couldn’t find out. “Tell your father I miss him very much, and the seasons seem to fly by without him to mark them even as the years drag on. It seems only yesterday it was sunny June, but now it’s dreary November and winter will be cold alone.” June and November were the months Anaire had bad morning sickness with Turgon and Fingon.

- Aredhel assumed this was some sort of code, but she’s not looking for more info about her family’s sex lives than she’s forced to know.

- Idril is around 5 or so years old. Argon is like sixteen. (using equivalent human ages)

- After initial introductions, Elenwe takes Idril to play in another room, so that the long lost families can reconnect

“So, how much does Argon know?” Turgon said to Anaire, who is apparently his mom?

“I’ve discussed the appropriate things for someone his age.”

Aredhel: “You realize that neither of us knows what that means right?”

Turgon nodded. “Elenwe and I decided that she would make all decisions about discussing sex, sexual development, and healthy relationships with Idril. Partially because I didn’t expect to see my daughter often, but also because my understanding of age appropriate information is very, very lacking.”

Argon: “I know that you two, and Dad and Fingon, were forced to work in the palace and not allowed to leave. I also know that you were - hurt - and that some of the ways you were corruptions of the marriage act.”

Aredhel: “Most of the ways we were hurt were sexual. And the groping wasn’t actually painful, but I sure as fuck didn’t want it.”

Argon: “I was being circumspect for your sake. I know what sex is, and you don’t have to talk to me like I’m a little kid.”

Aredhel looked at Anaire, who nodded in permission.

“I assume your sex ed came from a different direction than mine did. ‘You know that thing the King does to Dad? If it’s between a man and woman rather than two men, babies can happen! Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it feels painful, and sometimes how good it feels is just another way you’re being twisted up to serve them. Also, the king started doing it to your big brother, so you’re being sent away from your family in hopes that this horrible sex thing will happen to you less.’ But I guess it worked, in that the potter at least was able to explain how women prevent babies in case any of them got the idea to try.”

Anaire was shocked. “I’ve never heard you mention this before. That was why you were apprenticed?”

Ardehel: “Yeah, Dad said I shouldn’t talk about sex with anyone outside the palace. They’d be horrified and try to do something, but they wouldn’t be able to actually help. Then King Feanor would be mad we told, and take his temper out on us, and honestly the difference between him not caring if we enjoyed sex and him trying to make it hurt was pretty fucking big. So I kept quiet. It seemed fair to tell you the broad strokes of what was happening to your kids and husband, but knowing details wouldn’t help.”

Anaire: “I wouldn’t cal the fact that you were in danger of being raped at age twelve a detail.”

Turgon: “She wasn’t. None of us were actually, Feanor didn’t keep very close track of us but dd ask Dad when our begetting days were, and get around to using us for the first time about a month after we came of age. I think Fingon had it worse honestly, he didn’t see it coming.”

Argon: “What do you mean, did he not know Feanor raped people?”

Turgon: “We knew he raped Dad, we walked in on them often enough in the middle of our chores. But he mostly ignored us when we were kids, other than making sure we were around to threaten Dad with. None of us expected that to change.”

Aredhel: “But once Feanor started paying attention, he didn’t forget. Fingon told me later that Feanor used his mouth ten times in that first month.”

Argon: “Wait, Feanor used his mouth - do you mean Feanor kissed Fingon?”

Turgon: “No, Feanor didn’t go in for the fake romance. He made had Fingon suck his cock, and came in it rather than in his ass. Which is generally less painful than unprepared anal sex at least.”

Anaire: “And Fingon and your father are still stuck there? That’s terrible!”

Aredhel shrugged. “I mean, Feanor’s dead, and now there’s only two people allowed to use them instead of eight. It’s better than it was.”

Turgon nodded. “Maedhros is one of the better ones who could have ended up in charge. He goes for his own pleasure rather than pain or humiliation, and he prefers sex in bedrooms - in beds, even.”

Argon, who has not learned nearly enough tact yet: “As opposed to-”

Turgon: “Busy hallways. Up against the wall. Down in the dirt in the stable-yard - or in the woods. Inside a moving carriage. In the middle of the room with nothing to brace yourself on, but not allowed to even fall to your knees.”

Argon: “Is it hard to stay upright during sex?”

Anaire: “Yes, and you don’t need more details.”

Aredhel: “Yeah, he presumably won’t be punished for not knowing them. So Argon, what do you do?”

Argon: “I don’t have a particular craft that calls to me, so I’m still doing general studies.”

Aredhel: “Which is what? I think some of the normal servant kids had education past age ten, but not most of them. Elves are smart enough that you can be literate and know the basics of history and all the math that’s practical by then.”

[songandking]

The young prince was ushered into the room beside his father. He could feel the eyes of all Olwë's Court on him, as he trailed behind his father in his princely, Noldorin robes, hair bound up in a braid and held in place by a circlet. Atar said he had to be like a prince. Finwë bowed before Olwë and smiled. "King Olwë. May I present my son, Prince Arafinwë Ingoldo?"

Olwe was no where near the pristine and impeccable king that Finwe was. He looked up from where he sat on this throne, loose robes opened enough to show the tattoo on his chest half hidden under his hair. His hair was floating on a breeze coming in from the sea and on his lap his daughter, younger than Arafinwe was sitting and trying to balance his crown on her own head. He set her down to run to her mother, standing up to approach the Noldoran king.

“Finwe it has been too long!” he said and went to hug the dark haired elf before stepping to the side to look down at Arafinwe. He grinned and knelt to one knee, his sons and council to the side doing the same for a second before rising. He, however, stayed down to look at the prince, “Arafinwe, look at you, gold as your father’s rings, welcome to Alqualonde, my most esteemed guest.”