#first age easterlings

[grey-gazania]

Tell us about your Easterling conlang! Was it inspired by any real world languages?

No real-world languages at the moment, at least not consciously, though once I get deeper into developing the grammar that may happen. Tolkien doesn't give us much for the Easterling languages, just a few names. (I know he later changed his mind and said Bor & Family and Ulfang & Family were Easterling names and not Sindarin, but I find it too hard to swallow that Bor and Uldor just happened to have names that were cognates with Sindarin terms reflecting their choices in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.)

So I took some of the sounds that Tolkien seems to have disliked, and then I used the OT constraint model to develop a functional phonology. I ended up with a quantity-sensitive monopodal language with syllable structures of CX(C) and CX:, where X is anything more sonorant than a glide. Its feet are trochees and are aligned with the left side of the word. It requires onsets and CC-voice-agreement, and bans epenthesis and adjacent identical segments. It also bans [g] in outputs. It allows complex clusters and deletion when necessary to prevent violations of higher-ranked constraints. It does not force agreement in place of articulation.

It's called Lathtesh ('speech'). The Easterlings call themselves Rikishim ('sun-people').  The plural morpheme is -ishim, though the output obviously changes based on the noun it's modifying. So nuv ('mountain') becomes nuvishim, but ki ('person') becomes kishim because *kiishim would violate the Onset constraint, and *ki?ishim (? = glottal stop) would violate the Dep constraint. Brodda ('wolf') becomes broddashim for the same reasons, as well as the additional reason that *broddishim would violate the Max-Root constraint.

(Just to make things more fun: the input that leads to ri ('sun) is actually /iri/, so if for some reason you wanted to make the compound word 'mountain-sun' you'd actually end up with nuviri, not *nuvri.)

Verb conjugations are not gendered. The first-person plural morpheme is -li, and the third-person singular is -o. So verbs ending in consonants are easy - khavral ('to be', with kh being the voiceless uvular fricative) becomes khavrali ('we speak') and khavralo ('he/she/it speaks'). Verbs ending in vowels behave differently; lathta ('to speak') becomes lathtali ('we speak'), but stays lathta for 'he/she/it speaks' because *lathto would violate the Max-Root constraint.

...I might have got a bit carried away here. Hope you don't mind!

[grey-gazania-fic]

The sons of Bór were Borlad, Borlach, and Borthand; and they followed Maedhros and Maglor, and cheated the hope of Morgoth, and were faithful.

Featuring Antonio Te Maioha as Bor, Benjamin Mitchell as Borlad, Julian Arahanga as Borlach, and James Rolleston as Borthand.

A belated Day 1 fill (family) for @tolkiengenweek

[spiced-wine-fic]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Vanimórë, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Sauron (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Angband (Tolkien), Easterlings, Worldbuilding, AI-Generated Images, gapfiller, Dark Prince ‘verse Series: Part 6 of Dark Prince ~ The Darkness Has Its Own Light, Part 5 of Splinters of Steel Summary:

The High Chief of the Easterling camp is troubled when the Great Lord brings a slave from the Mountain.

“His blood must burn within him,” she said. “He is an amalgam. A made thing.”

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

“All your words are but to say…when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.” – Éowyn

We all love this line, where Éowyn is really giving it to Aragorn over the unjustness of her exclusion from battle with imagery that is jarringly evocative. But what if she isn’t just painting a powerful rhetorical picture but is referencing the life of an ACTUAL WOMAN: Aerin of the House of Hador and kinswoman of Húrin (seen in the Silm/Children of Húrin)? What if Éowyn’s language is letting us know that these stories and legends of First Age communities of Men are still alive and well in Third Age Rohan’s oral history traditions?

I love this idea, which made its way to me from @outofangband (who shares a love of Aerin but also knows WAY more about her than I ever will!♥️). For those who don’t know, Aerin lived in Hithlum and was forcibly married to the Easterling leader Brodda after Hithlum fell in the Nirnaeth. She suffered greatly but didn’t let Brodda’s abuse stop her from secretly aiding the remnant of her people who were living then as beggars and thralls. Túrin eventually came to make a bloody mess of it all (as is Túrin’s way) and ran off with many men of Aerin’s community after stirring the Easterlings to wrath. Then Aerin, among the women left to deal with that wrath, lit Brodda’s hall on fire and perished in the flames. Sound familiar???

I simply can’t read Éowyn’s words now without thinking that she knew the story of Aerin and had it in mind as she spoke to Aragorn. There’s already some evidence the Rohirrim are familiar with the history of First Age humans even as they don’t know much high elven lore (I refuse to accept that they got the name “Haleth” by coincidence!), and this seems like an even more direct and natural connection, especially because the Rohirrim are distantly related to Aerin’s Hadorian people.

The thought that the Rohirrim have songs and oral poetry – their means of “documenting” and transmitting history – about these First Age figures is lovely to me. Tolkien makes such a big deal out of how much the elves and Gondorians love and revere lore, how they have libraries full of texts, etc., while positioning the Rohirrim as less sophisticated in comparison (they’re called “unlearned” and Aragorn suggests they barely remember things that pre-date the founding of Rohan itself!). They’re treated as though their lack of books and the fact that they don’t happen to be interested in the exploits of the Númenoreans or the Noldor means that they’re ignorant of everything or don’t care about history at all. But that’s not true!!

They’re absolutely invested in and take care to preserve the history THAT MEANS SOMETHING TO THEM. And what is that? Well, it’s not Fëanor or Tar-[Insert King Here], but apparently it is Haleth and Aerin – women who found different but equally impactful ways to lead their people and resist oppression. And for those to be stories that resonated in Rohan enough to be remembered and passed on from generation to generation makes a lot of sense to me. It’s a land of shieldmaidens, a land where women are still looking for and creating ways to resist and defy, a land where both women and men sometimes have unexpected views about gender roles.

Those are people who would be interested in the experiences of Haleth and Aerin, even as (and maybe especially because) those women aren’t particularly remembered and celebrated by folks like Aragorn or the Gondorians and the elves. Húrin is the man of legend from that time and place to most of Middle Earth, and Aerin lives in the margins of the history just as she lived in the margins of life. But an underdog people will love an underdog story and keep it alive while others have forgotten.

It’s also interesting to consider what “lesson” the Third Age Rohirrim are taking from Aerin’s tale. On the face of it, you might read Éowyn’s words as being scornful of Aerin, as she points to Aerin’s situation as one lacking honor. But I don’t think that means she thinks that *Aerin* is lacking honor. Their situations are very different – Éowyn lives in an unconquered land that is going to battle now to stave off their fall; the main events of Aerin’s story take place in a post-war environment, where there is no battle to be had but just the daily grind of living under brutal occupation. Aerin does everything courageous and meaningful that can be done in her scenario (other characters in the Children of Húrin basically say this, confirming that Aerin is good, strong of heart, and the very essence of righteous defiance), and I don’t think Éowyn finds any fault with Aerin’s choices or behavior. What Éowyn finds dishonorable and inglorious is the circumstance of being forced to live under occupation in the first place. She wants to go to battle so that she is never faced with the life that Aerin had to live. She learned from Aerin’s tale that she’d rather not be the resistance to oppression but instead the conqueror of it.

Anyway. Now I’m just rambling (as is my way!). But if even a hint of this was interesting to you, I urge you to check out @outofangband ‘s blog for all kinds of additional context and detail about Aerin and the infamous firing of Brodda’s hall, expressed in a more articulate way than here! Thanks for sharing this very cool connection with me, friend!

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thanks for your recommendations! I’m searching for some Omegaverse/claiming type of fics. NSFW is preferred but I’ll read all your recs. Thanks!

Hi! We have an #a/b/o tag so do check that out. Here are more to add...

Out of the Woods by TawnyOwl95 (E)

Aziraphale’s job as an omega rights lawyer means that alphas won't give him the time of day. With his heat approaching, he finally gives in and joins The Den, an exclusive sex resort. Crowley's ex has left him because Crowley couldn't give him what he wanted, but at The Den everything is written down in black and white. Crowley knows exactly what his partners need from him well in advance and he prides himself on delivering. When an anonymous omega puts in a very specific request, Crowley is determined to give him the hunt and capture role play of his life. No matter what it costs.

The Scent of You by Ineffably_Yours (E)

Crowley has spent 6000 years suppressing his heats in fear of what other demons might do if they caught him. But since the Apocawhoops, it has started to catch up with him. Crowley starts to unknowingly indulge in his omega instincts, and finds himself heading for his first heat on Earth whether he likes it or not. Thankfully, he does and so does Aziraphale. Or: Crowley and Aziraphale build a nest.

it takes two by Fangirlingart, NaroMoreau (E)

Aziraphale doesn't want to be a terrible alpha, even if he knows his instincts are far too strong to supress. He needs someone who allows him to go slow... His new neighbour might want a word.

Learning to trust by Adara83 (E)

Crowley was sold to an omega training center at an early age. He refuses to submit and no one wants to rent him anymore. Lucifer wants to sell him as a slave, because he only costs money. But then he is bought by a wealthy costumer with white blond hair. Crowley does not intend to submit to his new master, but learns that submission is something else than he has been taught his whole life.

Against all Expectations by sixbynine (E)

Aziraphale has finally come of age and is being presented to society to find a suitable alpha to provide children and carry on the Easterling legacy. To bad she has no interest in any of that, and is more than capable of letting that opinion be known. At least until she crosses paths with a mysterious stranger who has secrets of his own.

The Scent Of You by GayDemonicDisaster (E)

Werewolf and Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. NO pregnancy/babies (I’m tokophobic). This fic is all about clear, enthusiastic consent, zero dubcon. Only werewolves and half werewolves are affected by A/B/O dynamics - normal humans are normal humans. Lots of Aroace representation in this as well, as the majority of betas are aroace spectrum. Crowley is an alpha werewolf living with his pack in Mayfair, in the midst of a city-wide upheaval in geopolitical boundaries amongst his kind causing disruption. He stumbles across Aziraphale, who, unbeknownst to her, isn’t actually human, but part werewolf and an omega. She has some of their senses, and is affected by the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic. Aziraphale’s employer, Ms. Angela Michael, is curiously hostile to Crowley’s arrival, so Aziraphale decides she needs to know what’s going on, and only Crowley has the answers she seeks. It seems she’s in a danger she wasn’t aware of, and Crowley and his pack do their best to protect her.

- Mod D

[nyxshadowhawk]

I Read The Silmarillion So You Don't Have To, Part 11

Previous part.

Chapter 23: Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin In which Gondolin finally falls, spectacularly.

The Fall of Gondolin is the last of the Great Tales, but it’s heavily truncated in The Silmarillion. It goes through everything very quickly. So, I thought it was worth getting some of the missing parts of the story from The Fall of Gondolin, one of the supplemental books of incomplete drafts that Christopher Tolkien edited together. The following is a summary of the Silm version with some additional details from The Fall of Gondolin.

But first, we have to be introduced to yet another new protagonist! The last long story was about Húrin and his son Túrin. This story is about Tuor, the son of Huor (Húrin’s brother). So, Tuor is Túrin’s first cousin.

Like Túrin, Tuor was raised by Elves. While the Elves were traveling south to the Havens, they were ambushed by orcs and Easterlings, and Tuor was taken prisoner. He was enslaved to the Easterlings for three years, until he escaped into the wild and (like Túrin) became an outlaw. He goes to Nevrast (the deserted kingdom where Turgon lived before building Gondolin), and follows a river down towards the sea. When he hears a gull cry for the first time, he initially assumes it must be some kind of “fay-creature.” His first breath of sea air is like taking a swig of wine. Finally, he reaches a cliff’s edge, and looks out at the sea.

Tuor’s first view of the sea by Anke Eißmann

For the rest of his life, Tuor is obsessed with the sea. He’s afflicted with that “sea-longing” that affects all the Elves in the Third Age. (Remember when Legolas hears the gulls crying?) This is because Ulmo, the Vala of Water, plans to make Tuor his own agent in Middle-earth. Ulmo implants that mystical yearning into Tuor’s heart, so that he will do what the sea tells him to.

Tuor lives in a sea cave for a while, exploring tide pools and listening to the music of the waves. Later that year, Tuor sees seven swans fly south, and he follows them until he comes to Turgon’s old palace of Vinyamar. It’s completely deserted. Inside, he finds a sword, shield, helm, and chainmail shirt that Turgon left behind on Ulmo’s orders. Tuor puts them on, and goes down to the shore, where he finds a storm amassing over the sea. Ulmo, the Lord of Waters himself, manifests out of the storm.

Ulmo and Tuor by Daniel Pilla

Ulmo looks truly awesome, dressed in mail like fish scales and skirts like waves, riding in a chariot drawn by narwhals and sea lions. He has the deepest voice and deeper eyes. I can only imagine what Tuor must be feeling. He’s the first Man to experience this sort of theophany (or something close to theophany, if you want to be technical). It’s the only time since the Elves’ original migration that a Vala (who’s not Morgoth) manifests to anyone outside of Valinor.

Ulmo tells Tuor about Gondolin, and orders him to go find it and give the king a message. He also gives Tuor an invisibility cloak, so Morgoth’s spies won’t follow him in.

The next day, Tuor (presumably still reeling from his direct encounter with a literal Vala) finds an Elf just outside the empty palace. The Elf’s name is Voronwë, and he’s the only survivor of King Turgon’s last failed attempt at sending a ship to Valinor. Ulmo saved him, but he’s stranded, because he has no way of finding Gondolin again. When Voronwë learns that Ulmo commanded Tuor to find Gondolin, he decides to go with Tuor.

Tuor and Voronwë find the Pools of Ivrin, that beautiful place where Túrin and Gwindor stopped, and Túrin mourned for Beleg. Except now, it’s no longer beautiful: Glaurung the dragon defiled it, and it is cold and sad. Across the frozen marsh, Tuor and Voronwë see a dark man with a black sword pass by. By sheer coincidence, Tuor sees his cousin Túrin, but they never actually meet each other. They’re each the Main Characters of their own separate stories, and those stories never intersect.

Tuor and Voronwë see Túrin at the Pool of Ivrin by Ted Nasmith

Ulmo leads the Man and the Elf to the hidden entrance to Gondolin, a secret tunnel leading through the mountains. (Secret tunnel! Secret tunneeelllllllll! Through the mountaaaains!) Voronwë is able to see it with his elf-eyes. The tunnel itself is “dark, rough-going, and circuitous,” and the constant sound of echoing footsteps makes Voronwë afraid that they’re being followed. Stumbling in the dark, Tuor and Voronwë eventually reach the other side.

Before their eyes can adjust to the light, they’re immediately arrested by Turgon’s guards. (No one recognizes Voronwë, I guess.) After exhaustively listing all seven names of the great city, the guards bring them into it. They cross a flat plain with smooth rocks and clear pools, and ascend a staircase through Gondolin’s seven gates.

The city itself is pristine, with shining marble edifices and towers, cobbled streets, courtyards full of pretty trees and white birds singing, and huge fountains that flow with a crystalline rain of water. Tuor is so impressed by the splendid city, that he thinks he must be in the home of the gods.

Gondolin by David Gresit

(And to think, Gondolin is only a pale imitation of Tirion, the city in Valinor. And judging by that above picture, Leyndell is a pale imitation of Gondolin!)

As Tuor and Voronwë enter the city, a crowd forms around them. The Elves are especially interested in the Man. Tuor is taller than most Men, with rugged looks and unkempt blond hair, dressed in bearskins, and carrying a fishbone spear and a gold harp. In short, he looks like a wild barbarian who’s lived on the road for some time, a world away from the beautiful Elves of the shining city.

The guards show Turgon and Voronwë to their leader, Ecthelion of the Fountain, who questions them. Tuor dramatically throws off his cloak, revealing the armor and weapons that Turgon left behind, and proving that he is the chosen one sent by Ulmo. So saith the prophecy! The Gondolin Elves immediately welcome him. Ecthelion commands trumpets to sound, as the light of dawn washes over the beautiful white city.

Tuor finally gets to meet Turgon, King of Gondolin and now the High King of the Noldor, in his great hall, beneath the gold and silver images of the Two Trees of Valinor. Sitting at Turgon’s right is his nephew Maeglin (the edgy elf), and at his left is his daughter Idril Celebrindal. Tuor gives the king the message from Ulmo.

With a voice almost as powerful as that of the Vala, Tuor declares that Gondolin’s time is up. The Curse — the same Curse that has been following all the Noldor this whole time — has finally caught up with it. Because of the Curse, all the works of the Noldor will amount to nothing, so Gondolin will be destroyed. Turgon’s only hope for survival is to abandon his beautiful city and head for the sea.

Turgon knew that this was coming. Back when he built the city, Ulmo warned him not to grow too attached to it, and also told him that his salvation would be a Man from the west, i.e. Tuor. It’s one of those things that you know you’ll have to deal with someday, but you still assume that day will never actually come, so you try not to think about it. Turgon isn’t ready to give Gondolin up. He loves it as much as he once loved Tirion, the city in Valinor that it was based on, and he still trusts that its secrecy will protect it.

(Side note: It’s interesting to see how this part of the story changed between the original version and the Silm version. In the original version from The Fall of Gondolin, Tuor’s message was that Turgon should prepare his forces to do battle with Morgoth. Turgon refuses because he doesn’t want to expose Gondolin’s location. In the Silm version, Turgon has already gone to battle against Morgoth and exposed Gondolin’s location. So, Tuor’s message is that the city is doomed. The old version of Tuor also encourages Turgon to “trust in the Valar.” In the Silm version, the Valar — apart from Ulmo — have abandoned the Noldor.)

Turgon holds court with his lords to determine what to do, and Maeglin tells him not to listen to Tuor. This is exactly what Turgon wants to hear, so he listens to Maeglin, instead of heeding the prophetic advice of a literal Vala. Welp… he can’t say he wasn’t warned.

Despite his rejection of the warning, Turgon still allows Tuor to stay in his court, the way he’d once welcomed Huor. Turgon respects that Tuor has the favor of a Vala, and knows that his destiny is somehow intertwined with that of all the Noldor, so it’s a good idea to keep him around. During his time in the court of Gondolin, Tuor grows stronger and more refined, and learns Elvish lore and handicrafts from Turgon’s people. He falls in love with the beauty and majesty of Gondolin, though he still sometimes gets a flicker of that sea-longing when he hears the splashing of the fountains. He also falls in love with the king’s daughter, Idril Celebrindal, who loves him just as much.

Everyone in the court loves Tuor. Turgon accepts him as something like a surrogate son, since he has no son of his own, and supports his relationship with Idril.

Turgon and Idril by mysilvergreen

The only person who doesn’t like Tuor is, of course, Maeglin. Maeglin still lusts after Idril (who, I’ll remind you, is his first cousin), so he resents Tuor.

After many years, Tuor marries Idril (with a lot less drama than the marriage of Beren and Lúthien). It’s only the second time in Middle-earth history that a Man and an Elf have been married. The wedding feast is wonderful, there’s much merrymaking, and everyone but Maeglin is happy. (Maeglin is off sulking in the corner.) The following spring, Tuor and Idril have a son, Eärendil (yes, that one). Eärendil Halfelven is a beautiful boy with bright, shining blue eyes. He represents the best of both Elfkind and Mankind: the Elves’ wisdom and beauty, and the Men’s strength and hardiness. He also inherited his father’s sea-longing.

While all this was going on, Húrin was released from Angband. Around the time Eärendil is born, Húrin screams in despair near Gondolin’s hidden entrance, revealing its location to Morgoth. Morgoth’s early attempts at finding Gondolin are all thwarted by the Eagles, but Idril feels the bad vibes, and comes up with a Plan B. She builds a second secret tunnel (“SECRET TUNNEL—”), going in the opposite direction from the entrance tunnel, so that the city can evacuate if necessary. She ensures that as few people as possible know about the escape route, so there’s little chance of Maeglin hearing about it. Idril doesn’t trust Maeglin as far as she can throw him. It’s not just the creepy way he looks at her — she had a dream about him throwing her baby boy into a furnace. That would unsettle anybody.

Maeglin, meanwhile, has been skulking out of the city to do some mining. Maeglin’s father was a smith, so Maeglin is in charge of all the mining and quarrying that Gondolin needs. He genuinely loves the work, but it’s also an excuse to leave the city, which is against Turgon’s orders. For good reason. As soon as Maeglin leaves the mountains surrounding Gondolin, he’s captured by Orcs, and dragged directly to Angband.

Maeglin is tortured so horribly that he caves, and reveals to Morgoth the exact location of Gondolin, as well as how to get into it and how best to attack it. Morgoth is so pleased, he promises Maeglin that he’ll be King of Gondolin after Morgoth conquers it, and that he’ll have Idril’s hand in marriage (Morgoth definitely doesn’t intend to keep this promise.)

Maeglin the Traitor by KuraiGeijutsu

Then he lets Maeglin go, and tells him to go back to Gondolin and pretend that nothing is wrong. When the time is right, Maeglin will let Morgoth in.

This version of Maeglin is actually more sympathetic than the earlier version of him from The Fall of Gondolin. In this version, he only betrays Gondolin after being tortured. Even the strongest Elf can’t hold up under torture for too long. In the original version, Maeglin promises to give up Gondolin as soon as he’s captured, so the Orcs won’t kill him, which is much more cowardly. Either way, Maeglin’s lust for Idril and hatred of Tuor made him agree to go along with it. He could have warned Gondolin that Morgoth was coming, and helped to evacuate everyone. But no. Instead he lurks in Turgon’s court like an Among Us imposter, waiting to roll out the red carpet for Morgoth, so he’s definitely at fault here. Sympathetic or not, Maeglin’s treachery is the most infamous in the entire history of Elfkind. And considering how many examples we’ve seen so far, that’s really saying something. Is anyone surprised? I mean, he was evil-coded from the beginning.

Fun fact: Maeglin’s heraldic emblem is a sable mole. A mole. How would you like the charge on your coat of arms to be a mole? That’s basically a big sign saying “DON’T TRUST THIS GUY.”

When Eärendil is seven, Morgoth comes. He brings a devastating army of Orcs, Balrogs, wolves, even dragons (the spawn of Glaurung). Maeglin tells them to come over the high northern hills, which are less heavily guarded, and to come during the midsummer festival. After a silent all-night vigil, the Elves begin to sing to welcome the dawn, but the sun appears to rise in the north instead of the east. Morgoth’s army bursts over the northern mountains, red with fire and blood.

Another interesting thing here — in the original version, the “dragons” are machines, like tanks, rather than literal dragons:

Then on a time Melko [Morgoth] assembled all his most cunning smiths and sorcerers, and of iron and flame they wrought a host of monsters such as have only at that time been seen and shall not again be till the Great End. Some were all of iron so cunningly linked that they might flow like slow rivers of metal or coil themselves around and above all obstacles before them, and these were filled in their innermost depths with the grimmest of the Orcs with scimitars and spears; others of bronze and copper were given hearts and spirits of blazing fire, and they blasted all that stood before them with the terror of their snorting or trampled whatso escaped the ardour of their breath; yet others were creatures of pure flame that writhed like ropes of molten metal, and they brought to ruin whatever fabric they came nigh, and iron and stone melted before them and became as water, and upon them rode the Balrogs in hundreds; and these were the most dire of all those monsters which Melko devised against Gondolin.

This version expresses Tolkien’s anti-industrialism much more clearly than the Silm version does, in which the dragons are real dragons. Dragons are awesome, but I kind of like this better.

Gondolin is caught completely off guard. Everyone panics, and the people of the great houses of Gondolin (and Tuor) rush to arm themselves. Tuor looks as splendid as any of the Elves, with a winged helmet and his emblem of the white swan’s wing emblazoned on his shield. In true “ancient epic” fashion, The Fall of Gondolin goes into detail about what everyone’s heraldic emblems look like. In that list are a few names that you may recognize: One is Galdor, the name of the first Elf we meet in The Lord of the Rings. There’s some speculation that this Galdor and the one in LotR are the same person, but this is unlikely, because of all the following events. It’s probably just a common Sindarin name. Another name you’ll recognize is the Elf, the myth, the legend, GLORFINDEL!

Glorfindel by MathiaArkoniel

This is the same Glorfindel who saves Frodo from the Nazgul at the river in Fellowship. Here, he’s the chief of the house of the Golden Flower, and one of the most powerful warriors on the battlefield.

King Turgon calls a council of his lords to decide whether they fight or run (while the dragons and/or iron tanks are all but bearing down the door). Tuor and Maeglin are both there, probably glaring daggers at each other across the room. Tuor argues that everyone should evacuate, and most of the Elves agree with him. Maeglin, of course, argues to stay and fight. Only one other Elf, Salgant, agrees with him. But Maeglin wins the debate, because he hits King Turgon where it hurts: “If Gondolin falls, then the Balrogs will get all your beautiful treasure!” So, the king commands everyone else to stay and fight. Tuor literally cries, and everyone else braces for the inevitable train wreck.

Let me just emphasize something: Everyone else is forced to fight a losing battle and watch their beloved city be destroyed, because one manipulative, malicious person preyed upon their leader’s insecurities. I really relate to the Elves’ frustrated groans and mournful sighs.

The Balrogs break down the gates, and the Orcs stream into the city. The Elves have the home field advantage, but they’re outnumbered, and the battle does not go well. Tuor rushes through the streets to get to his wife and child, get them out. But when he arrives at his house, he finds it surrounded by Mole soldiers. Maeglin is there.

Maeglin and the Black Sword by SaMo-art

Maeglin found out about Idril’s secret tunnel at the last minute. He plans to escape the city, dragging Idril along with him, and to throw little Eärendil off the walls and into the fire below. (Get your “cast it into the fire” jokes out now.) This is most likely a reference to reference to one version of the aftermath of The Iliad, in which Hector’s baby son Astyanax is thrown from the city walls by the Achaians.

Tuor calls his knights, who easily and mercilessly slaughter Maeglin’s knights. Realizing he’s losing, Maeglin tries to stab Eärendil, but Eärendil bites him, giving Tuor an opening to come at Maeglin. Tuor doesn’t just kill Maeglin—oh no. He does to Maeglin exactly what Maeglin was planning to do to Eärendil: he casts Maeglin into the fire, from atop the fortress walls.

Of the Fall of Gondolin by yidanyuan

So, Eöl’s curse comes true: Maeglin dies in the same way his father did, from being thrown from Gondolin’s walls. Tuor appoints a section of his guard, including Voronwë, to guard Idril. Then he rejoins the battle.

Ecthelion and his company, dressed in glittery crystal armor and fighting to pretty elven flute music, kill more Orcs than anyone else in the entire history of Elves. (So it is said in The Fall of Gondolin, anyway.) In short, Ecthelion is who Orcs have nightmares about. If Orcs had children, they’d keep them from misbehaving by telling them that Ecthelion would get them. So when Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs heads toward the king’s palace, Ecthelion fights him single-handedly. Although he’s badly wounded, Ecthelion springs at the Balrog’s chest and drives the spike on his helmet straight into Gothmog’s heart. They both fall into the king’s gigantic fountain. Ecthelion drowns, but he takes Gothmog down with him.

Gothmog vs. Ecthelion by Sandara Tang

Considering that Gothmog killed Fëanor himself, that is an impressive feat.

Turgon finally admits that Gondolin is done for, and decides (way too late) to get everyone out. In shame, he throws his crown down at the feet of the metal replicas of the Two Trees. He gathers the survivors in his palace, and tells them that Tuor will lead them out of the city. The Elves beg Turgon to come with them, but Turgon resolves to go down with the ship. It’s his city, and his fault that he didn’t heed the warnings.

Led by Tuor, the survivors flee towards the mountains. At the highest point, they look back and see the king’s tower wreathed in flames, ransacked by dragons, with Turgon standing at the top, waiting to die. Idril screams in anguish at the death of her father.

The King’s Tower Falls by Alan Lee

Gotta hand it to Idril, though — she spent most of the battle helping the other women and children get out of the city, and wielded a sword as well as any of the men. She also held her own against Maeglin when he tried to kidnap her, fighting him off “like a tigress.” We can add her to the list of badass overlooked Tolkien women.

This story has women fighting, and men crying over their fallen comrades. Tolkien is both very traditional and very ahead of his time.

It’s almost as hard to get through the secret tunnel as it was to get out of the city. The ground shakes so often with the thundering of Morgoth’s armies, that there’s sometimes rockfall that crushes members of the company. Imagine successfully surviving a war and getting to the escape tunnel, only to get crushed by rocks! It’s also completely dark, and there are poisonous fumes coming out of the earth. It takes a full two hours to travel from one end of the tunnel to the other in these conditions. A certain number of people turn back, hoping that the protective magic of the entrance tunnel will help them to get out that way. But it’s already too late: they walk right into the waiting jaws of Morgoth’s monsters.

(Fun fact: In The Fall of Gondolin, one of the Elves who helps lead the survivors out is Legolas Greenleaf. That was obviously changed, since there’s no way to explain that one, but it’s nonetheless interesting that Legolas’ distant origins are in this story. Also Legolas canonically has cat eyes in this version! WHAT DO YOUR ELF EYES SEE?)

There’s also a sad moment in The Fall of Gondolin in which Eärendil asks after Salgant and Echthelion, who played with him and told him stories during the happier times. Idril has to tell him that they’re missing or dead. The little boy cries and says he never wants to go back to Gondolin, and Tuor has to tell him that there’s no Gondolin to return to. These are the little human moments that get missing in the Silm’s condensed versions, which really hit hard emotionally.

Family by LiigaKlavina

On the other hand, Eärendil expresses how happy he was to see Maeglin die in a fire. “It was good to see Maeglin die so, for he would set arms about my mother — and I liked him not.” Yup, that is all the reasoning you need. Kids are so straightforward. That guy sucked, I’m glad he’s dead!

The last leg of the journey is across a dangerous mountain pass, which would be difficult enough to cross without being in the dark, tired, injured, and weighed down. It’s a path along a sheer, snowy cliff face, that the wind is funneled straight through. As everyone slowly struggles across the pass, suddenly, they’re surrounded by Orcs on all sides, and there’s a Balrog. Morgoth’s forces were watching the pass. The Eagles who live on the mountains swoop down to help fend off the Orcs.

(Another interesting tidbit about that: in The Fall of Gondolin, it’s said that the Eagles hate Morgoth because he chained up some of their kind, and tried to force them to divulge their magic words of flight. Morgoth wants to be able to fly, so that he’ll be better than Manwë. When the Eagles wouldn’t tell him, he cut off their wings, and tried to fly with them, but failed. I don’t know if that’s still canon in the Silm version, but I like it.)

The Orcs are taken care of, but there’s still the Balrog. Glorfindel, his hair streaming like a golden banner, fights it single-handedly. After a great battle on the highest point of the pass, Glorfindel stabs the Balrog in the belly, and it falls into the abyss below, dragging Glorfindel with it.

Glorfindel and the Balrog by Eric Velhagen

Thorondor, the King of the Eagles, retrieves Glorfindel’s body. Tuor builds a cairn on the precipice, and yellow flowers grow on Glorfindel’s grave.

But wait! I said he was the same Elf who appears in The Lord of the Rings! Glorfindel is so valorous, he’s one of very few Elves whom the Valar allow to reincarnate on Middle-earth. The reincarnated Glorfindel is blessed by Manwë, and almost as powerful as a Maia.

Why doesn’t this suped-up Glorfindel do anything else in The Lord of the Rings? Well, thematically, it’s because LotR is about the strength and virtue of common people, as a deliberate contrast to the Silm, which is about larger-than-life heroes in the manner of ancient mythology. The in-universe reason is that the strategy against Sauron is fundamentally a stealth mission. If the Fellowship included an epic, famous Elf lord in shiny armor, with shiny hair, who literally glows with divine light, that would be pretty counterproductive. Glorfindel’s only real role in LotR is as a cameo; as awesome as he is, it made perfect sense for Peter Jackson to replace him with Arwen for the river scene.

Another callback to the Fall of Gondolin in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit is the two Elvish swords, Orcrist and Glamdring. The latter was Turgon’s own sword. How either of them survived the coming destruction of Beleriand, and ended up in a troll cave thousands of miles east, is unknown.

After Glorfindel’s death, the refugees continue on, traveling for a year through war-torn lands. The eight hundred people who left Gondolin — already a small percentage of the city’s population — are whittled down to five hundred. They call themselves the Lothlim, the People of the Flower, because the name “Gondolin” is too painful. Ulmo protects them as soon as they get to the river. The people sing sad songs under willow trees, mourning the loss of their city, its king, its brave knights, its beautiful women and children, and Glorfindel.

When news of Turgon’s death reaches the rest of Beleriand, Gil-galad is named High King of the Noldor. He remains the High King until the War of the Last Alliance, the one in which Sauron was defeated the first time. He’s the last King of the Noldor in Middle-earth.

Morgoth, meanwhile, enjoys his victory. He hasn’t just won the battle, he’s won the war… or so he thinks. He completely forgot about the Sons of Fëanor and their oath to retrieve the Silmarils at any cost, because Morgoth didn’t think he’d be on the receiving end of that curse. As far as he’s concerned, all that oath has done is sew discord and hatred amongst the Elves, which works to his favor. He doesn’t even care about the one Silmaril he lost to Beren and Lúthien. Of course, it’s at the moment of his triumph that he’s most vulnerable.

Tuor follows his sea-longing to the mouth of the River Sirion, which is the only safe-ish place the refugees can go. There, a small but robust community of refugees from Gondolin, Doriath, and the other desecrated kingdoms. Círden also arrives with a group of mariners from Balar, an island just off the coast. At this point, on the water is the safest place to be, because of Ulmo’s protection.

Meanwhile, Ulmo returns to Valinor to complain to the Valar. Enough is enough: Morgoth has almost won, the population of Middle-earth has been decimated, and the survival of Elves and Men hangs by a thread. The Noldor have suffered enough for their sin, Ulmo argues. It’s time for the Valar to get off their asses and do something. Manwë is not moved. Only one person has a chance of begging the Valar for forgiveness.

As for Tuor, he grows old, and the sea-longing finally gets to him. He builds a boat, and sails west with his wife Idril. No one knows what happens to them after that. Maybe they die at sea, but some believe that Tuor and Idril arrive in Valinor, and that Tuor is the only Man to ever be granted Elven immortality. Tuor lived his whole life amongst the Noldor, so, it only makes sense that he should join them for his afterlife.

And that’s the end of the story of the Fall of Gondolin! The real tragedy here is that none of the Great Tales were ever formally completed. They should have been full epics of the same scale, breadth, and detail as The Lord of the Rings, but the best we’ve got is scattered drafts and reduced summaries. These three stories—Beren and Lúthien, The Children of Húrin, and the Fall of Gondolin — were supposed to be Tolkien’s true magnum opus. They were all clearly near and dear to his heart.

Oh well, at least what we’ve got is better than nothing. I’d rather know the story in some form than not know it at all. And most real mythology works that way; the “full” version of the story is lost to time, but the gist of it survives through fragments, summaries, and references. So, in a way, Tolkien achieved maximum authenticity with this one. And Tolkien did as much as he reasonably could in an already-long life. If it’s a choice between the Great Tales and The Lord of the Rings, the latter probably had a better chance of resonating for more people. I can only wonder what the fantasy genre would have looked like if the Great Tales had been published instead.

The Story of Gondolin by breath-art

[elffics]

⊹𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒈𝒆๋ ࣭

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ, ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏꜱᴀʟ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴍʙᴏʀ, ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴇʀᴇɢɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ʟᴀᴅʏ.

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪɴɢꜱ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ʟᴀᴅʏ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴏᴄ, ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏʟᴋɪᴇɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ʟᴀᴅʏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴜʀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ?, ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ.

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴍʙᴏʀ x ᴏᴄ

During the Second Age, a historic opportunity for peace arose between the reclusive Elves of Eregion and the Easterlings, a fierce and distant people. Mired in a bitter history of conflict and animosity, the chance to bridge the divide between them seemed almost unattainable.

Yet, amidst the whispers of diplomacy and the clamor of war drums, one brave soul dared to defy convention and embrace the possibility of unity. Celebrimbor, the esteemed lord of Eregion and renowned craftsman, saw in the Easterlings a glimmer of hope for a brighter future. And when the proposal of an arranged marriage between himself and the most treasured woman of the Easterling tribe was put forth, he accepted, determined to pave the way for understanding and cooperation.

Little did Celebrimbor know that the mysterious lady in question was none other than an immortal human, kept hidden from the world by her people for centuries. The Easterlings saw her as a priceless asset for their peace. And as she was reluctantly thrust into the intricate web of political intrigue and ancient traditions, she found herself torn between duty and desire, between the expectations of her people and the stirring of her own heart.

The wedding was held in Eregion, specifically in Celebrimbor palace. they danced for the first time as a husband and wife. all eyes were on them, some were admiring, while some were judging. as they danced, Celebrimbor noticed her empty expression.

✦ Celebrimbor: you seem to be distressed my lady, do I make you uncomfortable?.

The woman did not lift her face, she stared at anything else except his face.

✦: no my lord, you do not.

her words seemed empty.

✦ Celebrimbor: well then, would you please look at me?.

she can feel her people's eyes on her, she has to act good. her eyes are now locked with his for the first time since they met.

✦ Celebrimbor: you are unhappy with this marriage, I can see that in your eyes.

✦ : no my lord, I'm happy, you are a fine lord and it's an honor to be your bride.

He can tell that her words were forced and not genuine. he chuckles softly at her words.

✦ Celebrimbor: did they tell you to say this?.

she did not answer this time and lowered her gaze again. a deep sigh left his throat. he ended the dance and led her back to their seats.

Time skip

as is known, the husband must take his wife to their shared chamber and seal their reunion forever. the woman prepared herself mentally for this. as they entered their now shared chamber, Celebrimbor showed her everything in the chamber, after that, he excused himself saying that he will spend the night in his forge.

The woman left standing in the middle of the room, not knowing what just happened or what to do now. did he perhaps don't want to share a bed with her?. many dark thoughts roamed inside her brain, that even if she is immortal he don't desire her because she is a human and he is an elf.

✦: no, he is an elf, elves don't bond and marry with anyone, they only marry once and to their true love, not this.

she held her head in her hands, trying to stop her nervousness.

✦: I'm safe here, they won't hurt me, they can't reach me. I'm safe.

tears threatened to leave her eyes but she quickly wiped them. her eyes then noticed a balcony door was slightly opened. her feet dragged her there then sat down in front of it, eyes fixed on the moon. her breath calming slowly.

✦: maybe this is for the best, he won't desire me since I'm not an elf and I get to be away from my people. I will lock myself here if I have too.

[marta-bee]

@outofangband liked my zeroing in on Tolkien's comparing Erendis's beauty with Morwen's in the last post. I actually made a verbal slip and used the wrong name, so that post ended up seeming more focused on Morwen than I meant. But @outofangband's comment got me thinking more about Morwen's story, and that lens is turning out to be quite interesting. So let's dig in a bit more.

(Also: This, kiddos, is why you comment, on Tumblr and AO3 and everywhere else. It's the back and forth that really makes fandom worth the effort.)

It's been entirely too long since I've read the Quenta Silmarillion, and I've not read the Narn i Hîn Húrin at all, so doubtless there's people more familiar with their story than me. But briefly: Húrin was a lord in one of the Elf-friend Houses of Men. He was part of the Union of Maedhros (First Age political alliance between elves, men, and dwarves to resist Morgoth), fought in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad/Battle of Unnumbered Tears beside Fingon. Said battle earned its name, Fingon and countless others (including most of his household) is killed, and Húrin himself is captured and tortured for decades.

Morwen is his wife and the mother of Túrin and Nienor. She stayed behindi n Dor-lómin (Húrin's settlement), and after the Nirnaeth Easterlings allied with Morgoth sweep in and take over. They leave her alone, at least at first, thinking her some kind of a witch. If memory serves it was connected to her beauty, which they thought was preternatural and suspected her of having dealings with elves that made her dangerous. Túrin she sends off to Doriath so Thingol can raise him in safety; Nienor stays with her in Dor-lómin until Nienor is grown and the two women go searching for Túrin at last.

*******************

It's such a different situation in so many ways to Erendis's, so it's a bit fascinating how similar their lives are here.

After their marriage, Aldarion and Erendis lived together in Armenelos, and had a daughter. They planted the elven-tree in their garden, and the song-birds settled there. "

This got long, I'm afraid, but is a good read in its entirety. "In heart Erendis was glad [to have a daughter rather than a son], for she thought: "Surely now Aldarion will desire a son, to be his heir; and he will abide with me long yet." For in secret she still feared the Sea and its power upon his heart; and though she strove to hide it, and would talk with him of his old ventures and of his hopes and designs, she watched jealously if he went to his house-ship or was much with the Venturers."

It doesn't take a genius to understand how these stories work, and it shouldn't be surprising it didn't work out that way.

Erendis learned of these things, though Aldarion had not spoken to her of them, and she was unquiet. Therefore one day she said to him: "What is all this busyness with ships. Lord of the havens? Have we not enough? How many fair trees have been cut short of their lives in this year?" She spoke lightly, and smiled as she spoke. "A man must have work to do upon land," he answered, "even though he have a fair wife. Trees spring and trees fall. I plant more than are felled." He spoke also in a light tone, but he did not look her in the face; and they did not speak again of these matters. But when Ancalímë was close to four years old Aldarion at last declared openly to Erendis his desire to sail again from Númenor. She sat silent, for he said nothing that she did not already know; and words were in vain. He tarried until the birthday of Ancalimë, and made much of her that day. She laughed and was merry, though others in that house were not so; and as she went to her bed she said to her father: "Where will you take me this summer, tatanya? I would like to see the white house in the sheep-land that mamil tells of." Aldarion did not answer; and the next day he left the house, and was gone for some days. When all was ready he returned, and bade Erendis farewell. Then against her will tears were in her eyes. They grieved him, and yet irked him, for his mind was resolved, and he hardened her heart. "Come, Erondis!" he said. "Eight years I have stayed. You cannot bind for ever in soft bonds the son of the King, of the blood of Tuor and Eärendil! And I am not going to my death. I shall soon return." "Soon?" she said. "But the years are unrelenting, and you will not bring them back with you. And mine are briefer than yours. My youth runs away; and where are my children, and where is your heir? Too long and often of late is my bed cold." "Often of late I have thought that you preferred it so," said Aldarion. "But let us not be wroth, even if we are not of like mind. Look in your mirror, Erendis. You are beautiful, and no shadow of age is there yet. You have time to spare to my deep need. Two years! Two years is all that I ask!" But Erendis answered: "Say rather: 'Two years I shall take, whether you will or no.' Take two years, then! But no more. A King's son of the blood of Eärendil should also be a man of his word." Next morning Aldarion hastened away. He lifted up Ancalimë and kissed her, but though she clung to him he set her down quickly and rode off. Soon after the great ship set sail from Rómenna. Hirilondë he named it, Haven-finder; but it went from Númenor without the blessing of Tar-Meneldur; and Erendis was not at the harbour to set the green Bough of Return, nor did she send. Aldarion's face was dark and troubled as he stood at the prow of Hirilondë, where the wife of his captain had set a great branch of oiolairë, but he did not look back until the Meneltarma was far off in the twilight.

So: two women, left behind by their husbands to raise young daughters. Húrin's departure makes sense -- he's going off to fight Morgoth, to make Dor-lómin safe. Aldarion's seems much more voluntary and optional if not downright selfish. I'm trying to remember the almost physical compulsion he had before he married Erendis, to go adventuring again. I'm trying to be sympathetic. But it's not Erendis trying to "bind for ever in soft bonds." It's what Tar-Meneldur warned him about when he first became engaged to Erendis: that a man cannot have two wives. If these are soft bonds, it's just what Aldarion chose for himself.

But for the first time, Erendis doesn't exactly seem blameless.

All that day Erendis sat in her chamber alone, grieving; but deeper in her heart she felt a new pain of cold anger, and her love of Aldarion was wounded to the quick. She hated the Sea; and now even trees, that once she had loved, she desired to look upon no more, for they recalled to her the masts of great ships. Therefore ere long she left Armenelos, and went to Emerië in the midst of the Isle, where ever, far and near, the bleating of sheep was borne upon the wind. "Sweeter it is to my ears than the mewing of gulls," she said, as she stood at the doors of her white house, the gift of the King; and that was upon a downside, facing west, with great lawns all about that merged without wall or hedge into the pastures. Thither she took Ancalimë, and they were all the company that either had. For Erendis would have only servants in her household, and they were all women; and she sought ever to mould her daughter to her own mind, and to feed her upon her own bitterness against men. Ancalimë seldom indeed saw any man, for Erendis kept no state, and her few arm-servants and shepherds had a homestead at a distance. Other men did not come there, save rarely some messenger from the King; and he would ride away soon, for to men there seemed a chill in the house that put them to flight, and while there they felt constrained to speak nail in whisper. One morning soon after Erendis came to Emerië she awoke to the song of birds, and there on the sill of her window were the Elven-birds that long had dwelt in her garden in Armenelos, but which she had left behind forgotten. "Sweet fools, fly away!" she said. "This is no place for joy such as yours."

Erendis locks herself and Ancalimë away. When the two years passed, she shut down the house in Armenelos and isolated herself in the house "ordered the house in Armenelos be shut, and she went never more than a few hours' journey from her house in Emerië. "Such love as she had was all given to her daughter, and she clung to her, and would not have Ancalimë leave her side, not even to visit Núneth and her kin in the Westlands. [...] But the women were chary in their speech to the child, fearing their mistress; and there was little enough of laughter for Ancalimë in the white house of Emerië."

This... is not healthy. This is concerning, actually, and from the outside it seems avoidable. It's not, quite, because she's been abandoned by her husband, twice now in a way. And from Erendis's perspective there was nothing compelling Aldarion to leave. If anything, he turned it around on her and blamed her for trying to imprison him on land.

Compare them to Morwen and Nienor, whose husband and father did have a good reason to leave. I'm not entirely clear why they stayed in Dor-lómin rather than going to Doriath with Túrin, except that the story needed them to be separate. Maybe they thought Húrin would escape and come back to them there? Maybe it just seemed safer than traveling somewhere else, since the Easterlings left them alone? But her isolation comes from being surrounded by enemies, and she doesn't seem to isolate Nienor more than their security requires, at least not that I remember. Whereas Erendis bars all men from the main house, makes Ancalimë's whole life surround her in a smothering sort of "love," keeps Ancalimë separate even from her grandparents.

I keep thinking about the Hobbit narrator's line, that  "things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway." This is a story, and stories require things to happen. Morgoth provides a convenient villain, whatever else he is, that drives Húrin and Morwen apart. But Númenor in these early days is a land of peace, this is the golden age, things are supposed to be happy, which is precisely what they can't be if there's to be a story worth telling. It almost seems the nature of Men that if there's not a conflict near at hand they'll invent one; or that something deep inside them, their striving nature will compel them to do just that.

Psychologically, I don't want to blame Erendis because I like her so much. She's become a kind of Blorbo for me. And I do think she's got a right to feel betrayed and abandoned, even as she's materially well taken care of. However unhealthy her actions are here, and however much she's hurting Ancalimë, it's clearly coming from some deep pain. But Morwen's isolation is so easy to understand, compared to Erendis's! It's rational in its way, whereas this just seems unnecessary. That's probably what makes the story so interesting, even if I do want to shake her a bit by the shoulders, and send Ancalimë off to Núneth's house for her own protection.

What can I say? God save us for ourselves when there's no baddie near at hand. It's all so depressingly human.

[90shaladriel]

Queen of Night and Stars

Ficlet inspired by the Rings of Power concept art by Julien Gauthier

He watched her. Standing slightly behind her right shoulder he looked down at her as they stood together on the dais of the lofty hall. Her gold and silver locks tumbled in waves down her back holding the very light of the gods they both rebelled against within each strand. Her white dress tucked beneath the polished black metal cuirass that signaled the mark of a warrior still. She was everything to him.

One by one the supplicants came before them pleading for this cause or to spare them of their hardship. Always they begged her, their lady of light, to deliver them from their afflictions.

And she did, with the unshakable calmness and wisdom of an ancient being now stronger than the foundations of the earth.

A group of townspeople from some backwater village required assistance that their bridge had been washed away in a flood. Galadriel smiled and assured them that her king’s men would be dispatched at once. She didn’t even bother asking anymore to order a detachment of his Orcs or Easterling men to do some errand like this.

Would he ever say no? How could he?

He was so proud of her taking her rightful claim to power, now it fit her, how all of Middle Earth shaped to her will now and adored her. He had played his part in the beginning, it was as he promised. He gave her that spiked silver crown and forced the pretender Gil-galad to surrender his. She of course restrained him in and micromanaged his battles to do the least harm, she had also convinced a greater portion of her people to put down arms and accept the new order.

A couple of humans, a man and wife with a sick baby, begged for something to make their child well. Their eyes full of tears as the woman looked up at Galadriel, the man glanced his way before casting his eyes down. Galadriel soothed the babe’s cries with a gentle hand on its forehead, she whispered in her native tongue a prayer to the Valar and he felt the pull of her on the unseen world drawing on his power to alter the very flesh of the living to make it whole again.

They loved her and they feared him.

It sat well with him. He actually had no desire for fame and glory, his ambitions had always been to order the world in a manner that felt right and good. Healing what he had done in ages past but forging a new order where he could save this land. If everyone thought she was the one saving it felt only natural, it’s what she deserved.

As she gathered her flowing white dress so she could delicately climb the stairs back to the dais at his side he admired her beauty more fully. She noticed of course and her smile turned into a tight frown.

She willingly ruled at his side but always rejected his advances. Ever since their first night of marriage, the solitary time she had given in to his desire and he had taken that opportunity. Years passed and whether it was some absurd custom of the Eldar or perhaps her long standing hatred for what he was, she refused him since. Did she fear giving him an heir? His mind did idle on that thought from time to time, what a new life would mean when that ritual of succession meant little to them since they would live forever. Looking at the healed child whose parents clutched so tightly he wondered if it would feel the same for their own?

How he wished he could bury his hands in her hair, pull her body against his and feel his lips drinking from her fair skin.

She knew this of course. Before the next villager came before them, he felt the tip of her right hand graze just over his left hand’s little finger. He caught the involuntary gasp before it left his mouth, but he saw the corner of her lip turn just so slightly upward, her blue eyes dancing in mirth as in a glade of flowers for those who knew where to look.

His Queen. He would stand by her side until the days ended and there was only night once more. They would be together still. His starlight in the dark.

ao3 link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54437683

[mirra-kan]

@lotr20 Day 5 (15th Dec): loss | sacrifice | despair

"DARK TALES OF HORROR" The causes of the problems lie much deeper  than just the Lord of The Rings story. We see the result. We see only one side of a coin. Here's another one, which refers to the deeds of the Second Age but persists until the fall of Dark Lord Sauron, which we witness in LOTR books and movies. Here're some quotes I find relatable to the topic overall, in case you're interested ❤

"I dislike the use of 'political' in such a context; it seems to me false. It seems clear to me that Frodo's duty was 'humane' not political. He naturally thought first of the Shire, since his roots were there, but the quest had as its object not the preserving of this or that polity, such as the half republic half aristocracy of the Shire, but the liberation from an evil tyranny of all the 'humane'* – including those, such as 'easterlings' and Haradrim, that were still servants of the tyranny. Denethor was tainted with mere politics: hence his failure, and his mistrust of Faramir. It had become for him a prime motive to preserve the polity of Gondor, as it was, against another potentate, who had made himself stronger and was to be feared and opposed for that reason rather than because he was ruthless and wicked. Denethor despised lesser men, and one may be sure did not distinguish between orcs and the allies of Mordor. If he had survived as victor, even without use of the Ring, he would have taken a long stride towards becoming himself a tyrant, and the terms and treatment he accorded to the deluded peoples of east and south would have been cruel and vengeful. He had become a 'political' leader: sc. Gondor against the rest."  – letter 183 | Notes on W. H. Auden's review of The Return of the King Art quote:

"The Númenóreans carry their evil also to Middle-earth and there become cruel and wicked lords of necromancy, slaying and tormenting men; and the old legends are overlaid with dark tales of horror." Letter 131

[grey-gazania]

I feel like the Easterlings (both First Age and Third Age) don't get enough love in this fandom, and I'd like to rectify that if I can. Woul anyone be interested in participating if I were to set up an Easterlings Week?

[grey-gazania-fic]

[SWG link here]

Who were Ulfang's people, and why did they betray the Elves? The truth as seen by Uldor, Caranthir, and Ulfang's granddaughter.

I was inspired to get off my ass and write the latest chapter by the @tolkiengenweek Day 4 prompt, "language".

[silm-lore]

Caranthir riding through Dor Caranthir

Caranthir was born in Valinor to Fëanor and a Nerdanel, their fourth son. He swore the Oath of Fëanor and followed his father to Middle Earth, aiding in the first kinslaying and burning the ships at Losgar. After Dagor-Nuin-Giliath, Caranthir established his own realm in Thargelion, Dor Caranthir. He hated the Sons of Finarfin after Angrod asked King Thingol for land and accepted his kingship for the Ñoldor. Dor Caranthir land bordered the dwarves of Nogrod and Belest, and Caranthir established an alliship with them, and as Caranthir controlled the trade routes he grew very wealthy. Elves generally did not like Men when they started entering Beleriand, but Caranthir rescued the Edwin house of Haladin from raiding orcs, and Caranthir respected them for their valor. Caranthir offered Haleth and her people a place in Dor Caranthir and his protection. However she declined. In Dagor-Bragollach Caranthir lost his lands and fled to Amon Ereb with Amrod and Amras and they defended the fortress. When Easterlings came to Beleriand Caranthir welcomed them and Ulfang swore allegiance to him. Caranthir joined the Union of Maedhros and led the easterlings. However Ulfang was an agent of Morgoth and they betrayed the elves, and the elves lost Nírnaeth Arnoediad, suffering many casualties. After this battle the Sons of Fëanor were scattered through Osseriand, till they learned King Dior of Doriath had Lúthiens Silmaril. The Sons of Fëanor attacked and Caranthir, along with his brothers Celegorm and Curufin were slain in the second kinslaying.

Father name: Morifinwë, meaning “Dark Finwë” for his black hair, and possibly for his temperament.

Mother name: Carnistir, meaning “Red Face” for his ruddy complexion.

Born: 1299 Y.T.

Death: 506 F.A.

Age: 2,431 in the Second Kinslaying

Associated with: Fëanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Curufin, Ambarussa, Ulfang & Haleth.

[pearlescentpearl]

Guuuuuuuys I think I figured out what happened to the Faithful Easterlings post-Nirnaeth! I mean, we do all wonder what happened to them after the fifth battle, right? ‘Cause Bór and his sons may be dead, but that doesn’t mean his entire House died there, nor that they didn’t still have women, children, elderly, and non-combatants back at Himring.

So! There’s this little bit in the Grey Annals, section 174, where’s it says, quote; “Of them [the people of Bór], it is said, came the most ancient of the Men that dwelt in the north of Eriador in the Second Age and [? read in] after-days.” End quote. 

Now, the most ancient Men in the north of Eriador in the Third Age are the Lossoth who live by the icy Bay of Forochel. They descend from the Forodwaith (People of the North), of whom not much is known save that they’ve been there since the Elder Days. The definition of Elder Days here meaning since before the end of the First Age.

Friends, if you but consult the maps, you will see it is damn near a straight line from Himring, through the pass of Rerir, to the Bay of Forochel.

I am connecting dots here.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Today in questions people weren’t exactly asking but I am thinking about nonetheless…

I am deeeep in the weeds of the lead-up to the kinstrife in Gondor because I had an idea for LOTR Week’s ancestors and history prompt (lol on the timing, maybe I’ll have it done before the *next* LOTR Week rolls around!) and in the process, I think I might have found a (personally) satisfying answer to the question of why Rohan has a tradition of “Elf-” names (Elfhelm, Elfhild, Elfwine, etc.) when they are not a culture that has substantive ties to the elves and, in fact, were even kind of hostile to them at times.

The kinstrife happened because Valacar, son and heir of the king of Gondor, went to live as an ambassador of sorts with the Northmen (the proto-Rohirrim), fell in love with and married a Northman princess, and had a half-Northman son who became Valacar’s own heir. A substantial number of Gondorians wouldn’t accept this half-Northman son as their king after Valacar’s death, and so there was a coup and a civil war before the son eventually retook and held the throne. That son was named Vinitharya, which means “victor of the east” in the language of the Northmen, but Valacar had also given him a Gondorian name to help ensure the Gondorians would accept him and see him as one of them (a good thought, even if it didn’t entirely work!). The name he chose was Eldacar, which is Quenya for “elf helm”!*

So MAYBE the Northmen honored and esteemed Eldacar, who is a son of their royal house just as much as a son of Gondor’s. They were proud of him and what he accomplished as one of them. He came from THEIR community, ascended to the highest levels of power in the biggest empire in all of Middle Earth, withstood a coup and a civil war against him to hold onto that power, greatly expanded rights and opportunities for other Northmen living in Gondor, and had his own son (Aldamir) who eventually succeeded him and kept those Northmen genes in the Gondorian royal family. OF COURSE they’d be proud, and maybe they were so proud that they started naming their kids after him. Maybe they took the name Eldacar, translated it back into their language, and kept using it consistently over the years. The name followed along with the changes in the language as the Northmen became first the Éothéod and then the Rohirrim, and eventually we see it being used as “Elfhelm” in late Third Age Rohan, where it has also spun off a whole bunch of other, related “Elf-” prefix names in the process. Maybe? I don’t know, but I like it!

*All the dynamics on the naming here are FASCINATING to me. The name of Valacar’s father, King Romendacil, ALSO happens to translate as “east victor,” which he started using as his regnal name after defeating a bunch of Easterlings together with Northmen allies led by Valacar’s father in law, Vidugavia. So it seems that when Valacar chose to name his kid Vinitharya, he was both naming his son after his own father, Romendacil, and referencing a historical event that brought the Gondorians/his family and the Northmen/his wife’s family together, just as Vinitharya himself was a union of Gondorian and Northman identities and families. So sweet! Then when they changed his name to Eldacar, they went 100% in the opposite direction, abandoning any ties to the Northmen and even the little tribute to Romendacil and choosing instead a name that was as Gondorian as could be. The first man to bear the name Eldacar was a grandson of Isildur himself, who was of course the last High King of both Gondor and Arnor and one of the founders of the whole realm. That makes sense as a strategy when the goal is to legitimize Eldacar in Gondorian eyes, but the loss of the name Vinitharya is so much sadder when you think about what it all means! (Please excuse my ridiculous enthusiasm for all of this minutiae, I love it though I recognize it’s probably a bunch of silly Name Salad to a lot of people!)