#good king feanor au

[sweetteaanddragons]

(this is me throwing ideas at a wall. I am not expecting you to write all of them; I will be thrilled if you write any of them) A Maedhros-in-Troy story? Queen's Thief time travel fic where Irene is the one time traveling? Clone Wars time loop? Follow up to Nerdanel-petitions-for-remarriage-as-a-coded-message? An outsider-perspective follow up to "For the City Sweetly Whispers"? A snippet of Maglor & Maedhros raising Elrond & Elros, like singing lessons or telling a bedtime story or something? Minimum-Height-Requirement-Batfam decorating for Christmas? I know you've done each of the sons of Feanor as the last surviving brother, but I don't think you've written Celebrimbor as last surviving descendant, so you could do that?

I think probably I should stop for now but I might come back and pester you with more ideas later, if that's okay with you

Thank you so much for the excellent prompts! I really, really want to write the Maedhros-in-Troy one, but as MegMarch has been firmly resistant to listening to Epic, I am not sure if it would be a good gift for her. I may have to write it anyway, though . . .

Several of the other prompts are also tugging at me - I will definitely add them to the list!

(Baby Celebrimbor as high king of the Noldor AU, here we come!)

[amethysttribble]

AU thought just hit me like a freight train, here’s a story concept:

Instead of making Tengwar, a teenage-ish Feanor makes the silmarils early. Everyone is shocked and awed, and a much younger Feanor still doesn’t know how he made them, and he’s a bit more overwhelmed than proud about the whole thing (still proud). He comes home and gives them to dad.

Finwe’s very proud, and Feanor’s wee brothers and sisters are mostly thinking “oooh, shiny”. Melkor still wants. Feanor still denies. Seeding unrest among the Noldor was going to be, ya know, fun, but this is far more interesting. Oh well. It wasn’t that important to make the ants fight.

High King Finwe is murdered not in remote Formenos, but in the Palace of Tirion upon Tuna. The Trees go out. The Silmarils are stolen.

Feanor is, basically, sixteen and now Indis is his legal guardian, the only facsimile of a parent he has left. His siblings are children, and now they also know what it is to lose a parent. There’s the crown to think about?

While the people debate, Indis decides. Feanor is young, but Nolofinwe is eight, Findis ten. And, she knows as she puts the crown on her stepsons head, this was always Finwe’s intention. Some of the Valar are reticent, some supportive, but more importantly, Varda and Yavanna are looking at, not a king, but the only one who got close to recreating their light.

We have a project for us to collaborate on, Feanor. What do you say, king?

Feanor thinks that he is scared. Fear does not come naturally to him but he is completely alone in the world without his father (is there Master Mahtan and Nerdanel? Perhaps. In some ways. Is there his father’s counselors? Some of them, perhaps. Is there Indis? His half-siblings? He… doesn’t know) and he is scared. There is a roar in his heart that tells him to go, go east, retake what is his and avenge his father and…

And Feanor is alone. Who would follow him? He is only king by Indis’s hand. And he killed his father- not intentionally, not even himself, but he cursed him and killed him, just like he did his mother. Feanor wouldn’t follow him either.

But perhaps he can make something new again. Something good this time, given to the right Valar freely, and he will be redeemed in his people’s eyes a little.

And he must wait. Father will surely come back to him soon.

The crown, the light, and his siblings are his responsibility in the meanwhile.

[lordgrimwing]

Stealthros AU

[from this ask!]

The Basics: Malkor establishes his on kingdom in Middle-earth, enthralling/enslaving most of the elves before being defeated by the Valar and tossed into Mandos to contemplate his bad behavior (no elves ever went to Valinor). When he gets out on good behavior, he steals three glowing eggs from a group of dragons, killing dragon!Finwe and wounding dragon!Nerdanel in the process (similar process to Melkor leaving in the book). He then flees across the sea back to Middle-earth to reclaim his kingship. The rest of the dragon family chases after him, desperate to get their unhatched children/siblings back. The dragons work with the free peoples to over-throw Melkor, Feanor is killed at some point never seeing his lost eggs again. — @nighttimepatrons has some fricken awesome art of these dragons. Go check it out! —

Now, the dragons never tell their tentative allies that the ‘silmarils’ are eggs, so as far as anyone knows, the silmarils are just special gems that the dragons want back. Once Melkor is defeated, the elves/men/dwarves don’t give the remaining dragons the silmarils as agreed upon when the alliance was first made, keeping them for themselves (the light of the silmarils helps crops grow and keeps evil creatures away and are just all around very tempting things to keep hold of in a war-ruined land).

Inevitably, this leads to the dragons turning on the newly freed peoples (ie, welcome to the kinslayings on a massive scale). The dragons die one by one, the eggs always just out of reach. Celegorm has a classic western dragon arc with Luthien and Beren before they slay him. Finally, it’s down to Maedhors (the Enormous) and Maglor, and Celebrimbor who never took part in the slaughter for the silmarils because he loves elves, and he’s actually living in Eregion with the elves.

Because Kidnap Fam is kind of a requirement for us, M+M end up with young Elros and Elrond after another failed attempt to get a silmaril. M+M raise E+E and they become half-feral, fearless foster sons committed to helping their dragon dads get what’s theirs!

Okay, that was a lot but there you have the basis for the AU. Now on to some fun details.

The AU got it’s name because Elros is a silly guy who is very proud of how sneaky he can be, how stealthy. He calls himself Stealthros (get it? Stealthy Elros. Steathros. We’re so funny)

Now, because Elros and Elrond are So stealthy and sneaky and want to help their dads, who by this time are starting to give up, they decide to sneak into the treasury of the Noldor King and get the silmaril hidden within. Things go great until they get caught. Elros manages to escape (Stealthros for the win!) but Elrond gets tossed into a prison cell while the king figures out what to do.

Let’s talk about Gil-galad, the King of the Noldor.

Gil-galad, like many of the Noldor, was a thrall of Morgoth, freed after the dragons defeated the Vala. He bares a passing resemblance to Fingon, one of the free Noldor kings who died during the wars and dear friend of Maedhros. With some coaching from Cirdan (who never was a thrall), Gil-galad manages to convince the newly freed and leaderless Noldor that he is the son/grandson of Fingon. Whatever your thoughts on this deception, he’s doing a great shop of rebuilding the world and ensuring people don’t starve. Maedhros refuses to meet with him for any kind of treaties to end the attacks because he knows this upstart usurper is no relation of Fingon the Valiant. Gil-galad has the scars of a setting/rising star cut into his forehead. He doesn’t talk about it.

He's a good king, and he’s terrified when he ends up with a silmaril. He feels the Doom hanging over him and a bit of disappointment: from the stories, he expected something far grander from a silmaril, something glowing with otherworldly light, bright and holy; instead, all he has is a slightly shiny rock that collects dust and invites two nasty dragons to descend on the city. Whatever goodness and power that was housed in the thing is long gone. He hates it.

Now he has this this wild half-elf, foster son of the same monsters, too. He’s so Doomed.

He tries to talk with Elrond. In an ideal world, he’d get an agreement where he frees the boy and gives him the rock, but based on history, even that could bring death flying on dragon wings.

The talk doesn’t go well. Elrond appears to have forgotten his native language, and he only hisses and snaps at Gil-galad, even biting his hand when he gets too close!

There’s only one thing for it: he sends a message to Eregion, asking for someone who’s learned dragon-speech from Celebrimbor to home translate for him.

Celebrimbor is kind of a busybody, though, so he flies over to Lindon himself to see what’s going on and meet the elf-child his uncles raised.

Elrond bullies Celebrimbor. He’s so mean to the dragon 100x his size, it’s unbelievable. He says all kinds of things about Celebrimbor abandoning his family. He punches him in the nose!—Celebrimbor has no idea how to handle this from someone so small. He maybe cries a little. Gil-galad tries not to get second-hand embarrassment.

And that’s kind of it. I Elrond gets back to his dragon dads (Stealthros probably breaks him out), Gil-galad and Celebrimbor probably don’t die (but couldn’t you just imagine a scene like that one from HotD, with Elros on Maedhros chasing them down? shivers).

I’m sure Nightie has more awesome ideas to share (especially focused on the dragons)!

Ask me about fics that live rent-free in my head!

[maeofthenoldor]

Turin and Nienor- A Silmarillion Demonslayer Au

Summary: Turin and Nienor, much like Tanjiro and Nezuko, hail from a once-powerful lineage that has withered into poverty over generations. Their father mysteriously vanishes, and tragedy strikes when a demon, Melkor/Galrung, slaughters their sister, Lailath, and Mother, Morwen and turns Nienor into a demon while Turin is away. Returning home from selling wood, Turin is met with a gruesome scene, his family gone, and his sister transformed into a demon.

I've recently fallen down a rabbit hole of the kny (demonslayer fandom) and despite how niche it is, I decided to combine my two favorite things; Kny and the Silmarillion.

Turin and Nienor would be the main charachters of the series, since they fit mostly with the charachters Tanjiro and Nezuko being the best brother-sister duo in the series. There designs and outfits would be similar too, except in this case, Turin's blade is fully black. After Hurin dissapeared into the woods, Morwen could no longer provide to her family and they fell into poverty. Turin is sent down into town to sell coal every day, but when he gets back one night, he finds his mother and Lalaith slaughtered by demons, and his sister turned into one. He carries her down the mountain, but is attacked by Nienor, but is able to get her under control and lucid.

However in this au, Giyuu is replaced with Beleg, and like in the original canon, finds the newly turned Nienor and Turin. He uses a bow and arrow made of nichirin to halt a demons attack, and then uses a sword to finish the demon off. Otherwise does not have have a breathing style which stops him from becoming a Hashira. He is rank Kinoe. Beleg notices Nienor and Turin's unique situation and personally helps them, escorting them them to the Demonslayer corps base where they meet the Hashiras and the leader of the corps.

The Hashira

Maedhros: Flame Pillar-oldest son of Feanor and known to be the most powerful of the hashira. His tsugkuo are Elrond and Elros who use mist breathing.

Maglor: Sound Pillar- He shares tsugkuo with Maedhros, his older brother. He sees them as his sons and is extremely protective of them.

Celegorm: Beast Pillar-He hunts demons with his loyal wolf-dog, Huan. He is known to be very brutal when he kills demons.

Curufin: Stone Pillar-Not only is he a hashira, he also is a part-sword smith and creates nichirin swords/weapons for the rest of the hashira.

Caranthir: Wind Pillar-His style is extremely aggressive, channelling his anger for demons into a form that causes demons immense pain.

Aredhel: Flower Pillar-One of the most powerful, she has really good eyes which allows her to use vermillion eye, a type of form in the flower breathing style. Her adopted son Maeglin runs the butterfly mansion while she is away.

Galadriel: Thunder Pillar-She is the most mysterious hashira and hides her full strength to surprise demons. It is said uppermoon 1 is wary of her.

Finrod: Serpent Pillar-created his own breathing style and uses a curvy sword that resembles a snake. He later saves Turin and Noenor from Uppermoon 1 in exchange for his life.

Fingon: Ice Pillar- He a created a breathing style based off of his father, who recently died to a fight with Melkor. he is the closest with Maedhros, and he is known for being reckless.

When Turin and Nienor arrive at the corps, many call for the execution of Nienor because she is a demon. However the leader of the corps stops this from happening. The corps have always been run by the Finweans, who have always strongly opposed Melkor, who placed a curse on there family for centuries. Feanor, the last true leader of the Finweans was targeted by the Demon-king, Melkor himself and turned into a demon, where he was slain by his sons, who many are the Hashiras. His widowed wife was supposed to be in charge but leader was usurped by Fingolfin who is the half-brother of feanor. Despite being a benevolent leader, some of the Hashira, (the sons of feanor) do not believe them as true leaders which causes much tension between the corps.

Amrod and Amras are the only Feanorians that have not become Hashira, but are still a high ranking Kinoe. The reason is so that they will hide there existence from Melkor so they are not targeted, so that if their brothers die, there will be someone to still continue the family line.

Fingolfin stops the Hashira from executing Nienor, foreseeing that she would cause a great change in the war against Melkor. Turin is then sent to train with Beleg under the Hashira. Beleg and Turin quickly become close friends, being similar in age and bonding over there traumatic experiences.

To officially become a Demon-slayer, they have to go through final selection, without his demonic sister protecting him. Turin meets a girl named Findulias, a love breather who uses a nichirin spear to slay demons. They pass the final selection together, and with Beleg they begin to go on missions to slay demons together, where Nienor, who hides in Turins wooden box most of the time, helps fight demons.

Melkor hears of Turin and his sister, who is one of the only demons to ever break his curse and not eat humans. The siblings begin to pose a real threat to the demon king. Enraged he begins to send his most powerful demons after him, including the Twelve Kizuki (upper and lower moons) after them.

The Uppermoons

Sauron- Uppermoon 1-The strongest demon, only second to melkor and his most trusted. He used to be named mairon and was a demonslayer. however he willingly betrayed the corps to becmoe a demon. No one has come close to killing him-except for a female slayer named luthien, but some believe its just a legend.

Gothmog-Uppermoon 2- He is a giant and burly demon, with no distinct human features unlike Sauron. He is mysterious and nobody knows who he was as a demon-but again he has never let his victims live.

Galrung-Uppermoon 3-He is the one that is sent after Turin later in the story, and becomes his greatest foe after it uses its blood demon art (powers) to trick Turin into killing his closest companion Beleg. ever since then Turin has sworn to hunt and kill Galrung for good.

Thurigwethil-Uppermoon 4- The only female in the uppermoons and only eats men and spares women. Despite being a lower rank then Sauron, she is the only demon that was spared by luthien from any hurt, the most powerful demonslayer in history.

Gostir-Uppermoon Five- Another dragon-like uppermoon who was twisted into becoming a demon. The prodigies Elrond and Elros are the ones to kill this upper moon by themselves, proving they have a lot of potential. Sauron especially takes interest in them and realizes that they are from his blood-line of maia.

Draugluin-Uppermoon 6-The newest of the uppermoons and only recently was a lowermoon. However it has eaten quite a few hashira over the centuries and still poses a real threat.

Lowermoons

Telvido- Lower moon 1-Is known to take the form of a cat, and has razor sharp claws that can turn a slayer into ribbons. Despite its feline appearance it can talk like a human would, and call itself "the prince of cats"

Berúthiel-Lowermoon 2- She is a beautiful woman, but dont let that fool you-she could easily kill you. Her blood demon art is unknown, which makes her all the more dangerous.

Shelob-Lowermoon 3- A spider like lady descended from an uppermoon that was killed by hashira centuries ago. She is much less powerful then her predecessor, however she is still a lowermoon, and has gleefully gobbled up many innocents.

the rest of the lowermoons are unknown.-

This is very much a self-indulgent au since I know there is not a lot of overlap between these two fandoms. To the people who are interested in this-thank you please feel free to reblog.

[silmarillaure]

Quenta Silmarillion/Dance of The Dragons parallels

The Dance literally feels like a much darker Feanor's bloodline "survives" instead of his younger half-siblings AU except Feanor is split up into Daemon & Rhaenyra.

Feanor has 7 kids (Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras)

Daemon & Rhaenyra have 7 kids combined (Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon III, Viserys II)

Feanor & Daemon both have a set of identical twins, one of whom gets burnt (though technically Amrod died, my point stands).

Feanor, as well as Daemon & Rhaenyra are controversial figures in-universe. Held in high regard by some, despised by others.

Feanor & Rhaenyra are both noted for their incredible beauty/good looks.

Feanor & Rhaenyra both die in flames with at least one of their children watching.

Silver haired Miriel & silver haired Aemma being the 1st wives of a King, dying in childbirth with their one child carrying on their memory.

They also share similar heritage to their husband with Miriel & Finwe both being Noldor elves and Viserys & Aemma both having Targ blood.

Finwe & Viserys are the same exact person I will not elaborate.

Indis & Alicent are both religious (presumably, in Indis's case), don't share similar heritage to their husbands, & pop out 4 kids.

Maedhros & Aegon III are both canonically exceptionally handsome men who lived lives full of loss, suffering, pain, & tragedy.

Maglor & Viserys II are their elder brother's shadows, always following them, sometimes advising them. Outlive all their brothers, the descendants of the children they raised go on to do very important things.

Feels like too much to be a coincidence.

[tar-maitime]

like my mirror years ago pt. 3

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano, Finwe, Feanor Additional: Years of the Trees, time travel, AU, fix-it WC: 1k

Read the previous installment here Apologies for the delayed update; life hit like a semitruck there for a bit.

“Maitimë? Who is this?”

Maedhros freezes in her tracks, causing Findekano to nearly stumble into her back. The plan had been for Maitimë to get them into her father’s house in Tirion, so they could explain the situation to Fëanaro and discuss their ideas for exposing Melkor. Good ideas, all of them - Maedhros would believe in them if her memories didn’t firmly contradict any of them coming true.

The plan had not involved running across...

“Haru Finwë!” Maitimë says, a little too brightly. “This is...a friend I have recently become acquainted with, and I had something here that I wished to show her. I did not know you were visiting today.”

Maedhros has a sneaking suspicion that she should bow, or do something similar. It’s been so long since she was at the court in Tirion, and even then, the rules for her and her siblings and cousins were of course different from those for strangers. She can’t remember any of the formalities properly now. All she can think of is the awful silence before the messengers finally said what she’d already begun to guess, that her grandfather was dead - the awful blankness in her father before rage had taken over - the way that her aunt Findis had put herself between Indis and anyone from Fëanaro’s family, all through the hastily arranged funeral - the broken grief-sounds that Indis had tried and failed to suppress...

Her grandfather’s death had shaped every moment of her life thereafter, and yet Maedhros had never really gotten the chance to mourn him, every moment being consumed with something that needed to be done, people who needed to be held together or managed.

And now he’s alive, right in front of her, and doesn’t know her. 

Her cloak and hood, she’s fairly sure, are covering the armor and her shorn hair, but the manifold scars on her face are still plainly visible, and she can feel Finwë’s concern as his gaze tracks over her, trying to figure out what happened to her, what’s wrong with her. 

She wants to wrap herself up in one of his hugs and cry, but that would be startling and abnormal even if he recognized her, let alone with her being presented as a stranger. 

“My king,” she murmurs, with a dip of her head, acutely aware of the roughness of her ruined voice.

Anyone who had lived in Beleriand for any length of time would have noted the things about her that don’t belong, would have disregarded politeness in favor of a healthy suspicion and investigated. Perhaps once, before the Great Journey, Finwë would have done the same. But the Finwë who is king in Valinor sees only his beloved granddaughter’s odd but harmless friend - everything here is harmless - so he merely nods and smiles benevolently and goes his way. “I shan’t keep you.”

She will keep him, though, if she can, Maedhros thinks with a sudden ache. She will keep him and her father and her cousins and brothers and Findekano, everyone she loves - keep them alive, keep them from becoming what she has had to become. She no longer cares if it is impossible. They have to try anyway.

“Come on,” she says, once Finwë has gone. “We need to find Atar.”

* * *

“Nelyafinwë! What has happened to you?”

That’s all it takes for Maedhros to feel her knees go out from under her, because. Fëanaro was looking at her when he said it. He looked at her and called her Nelyafinwë; he knows who she is.

“Atar,” she says, and that’s all she manages before she has to sit down on a mercifully uncluttered stool and Fëanaro abandons what he was tinkering with and crosses to her in three quick strides.

The actual Maitimë is beside her in another moment. “Atar, how did you know?” she asks quietly. “Even I couldn’t guess; I had to be told.”

Fëanaro looks downright offended. “She is my child. Obviously I would know who she is. Now,” he turns back to Maedhros, “Nelyafinwë - other-Nelyafinwë, I suppose - can you tell me what happened that did all this to you?”

He reaches to hold her hands, seeming disturbed when he only encounters one, but she grips his hand tightly in the one she has. Another person she’s lost, here in front of her again, alive and real.

“You’re not going to ask how I got here?” she says.

Fëanaro half-shrugs. “That is less urgent, probably, and I already have a theory or two. Travel back in time or from an alternate Singing seem the most likely. Right now I want to know what I need to do about whatever hurt you.”

She’d almost forgotten about when he was like this, when he genuinely cared for them and wasn’t lost to the grip of mania and paranoia. He’s so close already, at this point in the timeline, to falling into that, but perhaps that will change, too, if they can stop Morgoth.

“It was Melkor, Atar,” she says quietly. “A lot of things, but mostly Melkor. We have an idea of how to keep it from happening, and that’s why we came to see you. We’re going to need your help...and you’re probably not going to like the kind of help we need.”

[carlandrea]

do you have any more thoughts for the Silm Warrior cats au? It’s like crack catnip to me

oh DO I

Some scattered thoughts:

Huan is a dog. he's just like a wolfhound. Nightsong (Luthien) does still ride on his back.

I'm only giving the high kings the -star suffix, because otherwise like. pretty much everyone would get it? Because so many people are like the king of something or other. And that's just not very fun suffixes are fun. The noldor don't have a clan name yet because i haven't thought of a good one (Taking suggestions) but I do think they're less centralized and more prone to infighting than the ones we see in the warrior cats books, but they do only have one proper leader with the nine lives and the etc.

The fact that Morgoth is like. a human man with a gun in this au makes the Nirnaeth so much more fucking insane than like i think it feels in the silm proper—like we can't really conceptualize the idea of going to war with a god, but like. The idea of a bunch of feral cats attacking a human dudes house because he stole their special rocks

ALSO very funny that Morgoth stole some special rocks from the feral cats in the woods and EXTREMELY funny that he's so invested in the entire situation

The silmarils also need a fun warrior cats sounding name, but I don't think functionally they'll change that much? Like Warrior Cats has magic and starclan so like they can still be magic glowing rocks I think. And like I think we could just make them by having Fireheart (feanor) figure out how to carve and smooth either like gems or even shards of glass to make something like seaglass and then they were made magic by like. starclan. Still not sure what to call them

[braxix]

Okay, here's my notes for the Pirate AU I'm planning to write. I need you opinions on if it's okay or not. Not all of this would be in the first part.

Ossë, Uinen and Ulmo are way more prevalent to the story line and will show up multiple times.

Sauron is a commodore for to East India Trading Company.

Himring is a pirate town that no one touches cause they're too scared of what would happen.

Morgoth is oddly absent so far because I can't figure out how to work him in other than as a random dude that killed the merchant captain(Finwë) and has spurred his sons(Feanor and Fingolfin) into becoming pirates(one way more calm about this than the other) while his remaining son(Finarfin) stays back and runs the family business.

Sirion is a port town that's trying very hard to be friendly with the pirates, but can't quite make it. They hate the EITC, but they also hate the pirates and they're getting absolutely wrecked before they get raided by the pirates. (I need a good name for them besides just the Sons of Feanor)

Elrond and Elros are raised on board the many ships of the pirate fleet of Feanor's sons. Later they absolutely wreck Gil-Galad's ship(He's a pirate king).

I'm mostly having trouble translating the Silmarillion story line from being on land to being of the water with guns and cannons everywhere(Oh goodness the massacres.)

[fuckingfinwions]

surprised geode au feanor's being a little less brutal to fingolfin in terms of punishment

i mean compared to geode au fingolfin, one week of potentially being raped doesn't seem as bad as forcing your brother to pick which of his sons you're going to rape

also several days lol i imagine it's going to be a question along the lines of "what the fuck is a silmaril" that finally breaks the illusion for the feanorions

thanks for answering my asks! it's nice to read your writing again :)

Good point, I hadn't really compared the brutality. I did say he's going to start with the two of them naked in public for a week.

After that, Feanor will wan to do more to them in revenge, but he's used to thinking of himself as the wronged party, the morally good victim. He isn't evil like Fingolfin and Fingon, to enjoy raping people in his power.

So it will be torture where Feanor stays fully clothed, and claims not to enjoy it at all. Whipping Fingolfin until he can't stand, and then leaving him to lie on the stone floor bleeding (Feanor knows this won't kill an elf as strong as they are). Using every sadistic or large sex toy in Fingon's room on Fingon, in revenge for what he did to Maedhros. Offering Fingolfin a day off the torture if FIngolfin is the one to beat Fingon this time, and when Fingolfin refuses making him watch Feanor get out a whip studded with glass.

(I haven't fully decided, but I think Turgon and Aredhel are in Gondolin, and Argon died early or doesn't exist. So Feanor unfortunately cannot make Fingolfin choose which of his sons gets tortured, at least not without involving an innocent woman for nine months first).

Also: Not all of Feanor's sons are down with directly participating in torture, but none of them are going to stop him from getting revenge for Maedhros. Celegorm will join in, mostly following Feanor's rules (no rape involving your own genitals, and only maiming if Feanor specifically orders it), because he's never really gotten to take apart an elf the way you take apart an animal you hunt. Sure, no maiming, but he can skin Fingolfin's calf right, as long as he puts the skin back down before Fingolfin bleeds out or the skin dries out/dies? Just five or ten minutes of watching the muscles move while he turns Fingolfin's foot back and forth. (And this means Feanor can force Fingolfin to choose which of Fingon or Fingolfin gets Celegorm or Feanor today.)

Caranthir joins in once or twice to vent anger but finds it less fun than he expected and stops. Curufin assists several times to show Feanor that Curufin totally approves of torturing the usurpers and is a good loyal son. After a few times though, Curufin admits to not having much creativity in this field, and would rather go back to smithing weapons rather than breaking elves.

also several days lol i imagine it's going to be a question along the lines of "what the fuck is a silmaril" that finally breaks the illusion for the feanorions

Yeah, Feanor not knowing what the Silmarils are, or caring about the Oath, will definitely make it clear that he is missing memories, and lead to the whole thing unraveling! Even without the Oath though, Feanor is still completely on board with getting revenge against Morgoth for killing Finwe and torturing Maedhros. And he's not going to abandon his sons to Everlasting Darkness whatever that is, so he'll make sure they get the Silmarils off Morgoth's corpse, plus he thinks they sound like cool gems worth studying.

All told, the Feanorions are going to keep Feanor as king despite him having zero context. This is probably a bad decision, but no one ever accused them of making good ones! Maedhros is fairly sure that he's Feanor's property now; Feanor apparently isn't going to fuck him but that doesn't mean Maedhros makes decisions or anything crazy like that. Maglor is a natural born follower, and has verbal objections to torturing his cousin and uncle but knows when he's outvoted. Celegorm is glad to have Maedhros back and 100% on board with plan: get revenge on absolutely everyone. Caranthir is weirded out by Feanor's different assumptions, but glad they're finally doing more than a stalemate in the war. Curufin is so glad to have his dad back alive, and willing to overlook Feanor being "unwell" for that. Also, now Curufin knows things in the forge that Feanor doesn't, and can actually teach Feanor new things, the world is upside down but it makes him feel like a genius! Amras thinks that this version of Feanor is better than the one who burned to ash in front of them anyway; "would let himself be raped to reduce the amount of rape his sons experience" is better than "doesn't even notice where his sons are until he kills one of them".

They settle on Feanor as king with Maglor and Curufin sitting on either side giving advice and explanations as to who these people in the great hall even are. And Maglor had an excuse to perform the Noldolante for an audience thoroughly unfamiliar with it (let's teach Feanor history!), so he enjoyed that.

[arofili]

@oneringnet​ alternate universes event ♔ GOOD KING FËANOR ♔ co-created with @thishazeleyeddemon​ ♔ further details on this AU

Oromë found the elves by Cuiviénen too late, and Fëanor’s leadership progressed with a focus on love and loyalty to his family. The Silmarils were created as a wedding gift to Fingolfin and Anaer his wife, and it was the murder of Fingolfin and the theft of the white jewels that spurred the Flight of the Noldor and forever changed the history of Middle-earth.

[thishazeleyeddemon]

Wip I guess

@arofili sorry I keep bothering you with my au

What they weren't expecting was who's sword was brought into the ring next.

"Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean," Anairë started, her gaze turned down to the floor. "Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, man yet unborn upon Middle-earth -"

"Anairë!" A woman cried. Feanor recognized her with a start as Anairë's mother. "Stop this now!"

Anairë did not turn, nor did she falter in her speech. It seemed to Feanor that her conviction indeed had grown at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger nor Doom itself -" she was nearly shouting now, and the hand she gripped her sword with was shaking "-shall defend him from Feanaro, and Arakano's kith and kin, whoso keep us, let us, or hideth from us our just revenge and retribution against the Hunter In The Dark, thief and slayer of Arakano Lord in Tirion!"

She gritted her teeth. Feanor had always thought Anairë quiet, and soft. Now he could see the same iron Arakano had had, like a fire was caught in her eyes.

"This we swear all," she called, and her voice rang out over the congregation and he could see the stir there. They'd cheered for him; for her they listened as she said:

"Death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!"

She raised her sword in a sweeping arc of silver to the bright blue sky as she finished. The light glinted off of it, bright as it was, like a silver rent in the flesh of the sky.

She held it there for a few precious seconds, before letting her arm fall. She swallowed thickly, and brushed back a few strands of hair, trying to regain her composure.

"There," she said finally. "Try ridding yourself of me now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Feanor heard himself say.

"Good," she said, and he could hear some of the iron she'd had just before. "I want my justice too."

[lordgrimwing]

Okay, you must tell us about αβΩ au

I'm going to call it an atypical alpha/beta/omega take on what Middle-earth could be like if the Valar didn't bring the elves to Valinor/the elves refused to go. This all came about when someone did some art of Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elrond and mentioned that it was for an a/b/o au with minimal explanation. Of course, I and @nighttimepatrons went a little crazy over it.

What I've actually written so far is mostly focused on Celebrian, Gil-galad, and Elrond, who are all married and very happy. Celebrian is a princess of the Noldor and Sindar realms and travels gracefully from diplomatic meeting to minor crisis. Gil-galad is a merchant and low-level politician in Lindon working very hard to make sure he's never connected to the High Family (Finwe's family) because thoughts of somehow becoming king haunt his nightmares. Elrond's a healer raised by the nomadic Feanorians who has the unfortunate habit of complicating Gil-galad's life because the path to political upheaval is paved with good intentions (re: bringing Avari Glorfindel to Lindon and picture).

[breaking here because this is getting Long]

The core idea for the au is that Elrond went on an expedition with Pengolodh and others to document one of the few Avari tribes that's been untouched by the outside world since leaving Cuivienen, but the tribe lives within another realm that is very set on keeping them free of outside influences so the research group has to promise to not interact or let themselves be seen by anyone in the tribe. Well, as one might expect, this doesn't go as planned. A great beast of the wilds attacks the group but an Avari they'd been watching (Glorfindel) steps and saves them but is grievously wounded and will die unless they help him. Elrond, being Elrond, insists on doing what he can in the field and on smuggling him back to Lindon on one of Gil-galad's ships when it becomes clear the Avari will die without in-depth medical care.

Really, it's an excuse for me to yank Glorfindel out of his home and shove him into a new culture because I love him being an outsider among the Noldor. (I'm basic, what can I say?)

Nightie and I also think A Lot about Miriel/Indis/Finwe and Feanor :) (spoiler: Feanor gets mirked by some Men which inspires the first Manslaying)

Anyway, you might be wondering what any of this has to do with a/b/o. Well, in the 'modern realms' like the Noldor and Sindar, very little importance is put on if someone's an alpha (Celebrian), beta (Gil-galad), or omega (Elrond). Sure, sometimes someone could have hormonal things that make them act a bit different (re: Elrond's nesting habits), but it's no big deal. HOWEVER, the Avari tribe has Very Different feelings on the matter.

The tribe believes that an evil spirit or force causes elves to become alphas or omegas (they don't use those terms but whatever). There isn't much they can do if someone becomes an omega, but generally omegas can live a normal life but just lose control of their bodies sometimes. So, omegas can stay in the tribe but don't have much respect unless they dedicate themselves to healing and or soothsaying etc. Alphas, on the other hand, are considered violent and dangerous and are not allowed to stay with the tribe after reaching adulthood unless they go through a ritual to cast the evil spirit from them. This involves a moderate degree of mutilation and pain and is very unpleasant and sometimes people die during it.

Glorfindel's an alpha. He went through that ritual and is a very good warrior/hunter/protector for the tribe. He is very proud of his scars.

This makes things a bit awkward in Lindon, where everyone is horrified by this thing that he takes deep pride in.

Anyway, that's a lot and there's even more but I should probably stop (warm hug if you read all that).

[qrovidcore]

what was the one thing @potatoobsessed999 and i were not supposed to do?

come up with another silm au.

and what did we do?

came up with another silm au.

anyway, because neither of us will ever write this but both of us WILL make pleading faces at the rest of the fandom until someone writes it for us we both independently started typing it up in bullet points Immediately after talking to each other about it and then had a spiderman meme moment about that, we present to you:

Would You Rather Fight 1 Morgoth-Sized Morgoth Or 1000 Noldor-Sized Noldor, And Why Is It 1 Morgoth-Sized Morgoth

in which

morgoth is, presumably, about 5% smarter, and keeps his mouth shut about the silmarils when he shows up to formenos to convince feanor to leave with him

or, at least keeps his mouth shut about the silmarils long enough that feanor does not say his girlboss line and slam the door in his face, and actually considers his offer

fine, says feanor, i do want to leave aman actually, but i’m bringing my seven angry sons and also my dad and also maybe a few hundred of my most loyal followers with me

(not that finwe would trust morgoth as far as he could throw him, but also is finwe letting his kid run off after him by himself? oh hell no, he’s going too)

i did say presumably smarter

because morgoth is probably not counting on all of this, he probably just wanted to kill feanor and get the silmarils and get out before the rest of the valar, who have at this point caught onto his shit, are able to toss him in the void about it

fine. morgoth does not have time to argue about this, so now he’s helping a few hundred feanorians cross the helcaraxe. This Is Fine^tm.

they probably all survive the ice okay, but of course morgoth turns on them and starts trying to kill them all the second he’s in shouting distance of angband.

because finwe’s job is to go down fighting morgoth when he should probably not be fighting morgoth, finwe goes down fighting morgoth.

because finwe’s job is also to die and emotionally devastate feanor in the process, feanor Sees.

and goes after morgoth himself.

and because feanor’s job is to die avenging his dad and then proceed to haunt the narrative, feanor, much like in canon, gets got.

at which point morgoth steals the silmarils and also the sons of feanor, and then runs back to angband before the valar can get across the ice to come throw him in the void.

because morgoth is busy trying not to let the valar catch him and throw him in the void, a decent number of feanorian followers escape. they have a very tiny baby celebrimbor with them!! no worries!! all babies remain okay!!!

unfortunately, the valar get there too late to do anything. fortunately, news does get back to the rest of finwe’s kids that suddenly a feanorian host, including feanor himself and also the high king of the noldor, have disappeared with morgoth across the ice? yeah that’s probably not good right.

yeah that’s probably not good right, say fingolfin and finarfin, resigning themselves to going marching over to middle-earth to rescue their stubborn older brother and also maybe to convince him that they do actually love him

not that that last part will ever happen. not when they just get there to find him dead.

because feanor is not there to go petition the teleri for boats, this job now falls to fingolfin and finarfin. without feanor there, the first kinslaying never happens. with finarfin there, the teleri can perhaps be talked into giving the noldor an uber ride.

the fact that the darkening also never happened, and therefore everyone is not panicking quite as much, does help also.

anyway, fingolfin and finarfin’s hosts show up just in time to find everything gone fairly to shit.

the sons of feanor are in angband, you say? maedhros is in angband, you say? well I’m going to angband then, says fingon.

this is definitely not as controversial, since there was never a boat burning either! but also it’s angband and clearly this is stupid and dangerous and Fingon Is Going Alone.

or so fingon insists

you see, aredhel and finrod probably never hung out themselves much, but they were both close with celegorm and curufin. they absolutely all used to go mud wrestling together on the weekends. and shared grief sure does have a way of bringing people together, and so they bond over missing their favorite cousins.

and, much like merry and pippin, end up Planning A Conspiracy^tm

and so this is how fingon, finrod, and aredhel go marching into angband on a mission to Get The Sons Of Feanor Back

unfortunately, none of them know how to find a good entrance to angband.

fortunately, they do find maedhros, who does know how to find a good entrance to angband.

maedhros’ rescue happens just like in canon, because maedhros’ job is to be a Symbol^tm, so of course he’s strung up on a mountain so that the rest of the feanorians will despair about it (separating him from his brothers so that maglor can do his job of despairing about being in charge in any capacity is also important). maedhros’ rescue happens just like in canon also because maedhros is frodo and fingon is sam, and if we are doing fellowship parallels then We Are Doing Fellowship Parallels, and who could ever take their singing rescue away from them <3

maedhros, dying of blood loss: i know where my brothers are and i’m going in with you.

fingon: maedhros you are dying of blood loss. no.

maedhros: yes.

fingon: no.

maedhros: yes.

fingon: fine.

and so fingon proceeds to lug a dying but stubborn maedhros down into angband. who, to his credit, is helpful in finding his brothers.

they’re probably all still alive because they’re useful (curufin, for smith reasons) or because it’s fun to make them despair. in any case, the team gets them out, and the rescue is going well.

well enough that amrod delays in an attempt to try to steal back the silmarils

instead of dying in the hopes of not having to reclaim the silmarils, amrod dies for the hope that such a thing is possible.

the others get out alive.

amrod’s death is what prompts the remaining sons to finish the job and get the silmarils back.

but! there is no oath! and there is no family feud! the finweans all reunite and successfully begin to plan an attack.

and well, there was no first kinslaying, or any kinslaying at all actually. thingol’s on decent terms with the feanorian survivors who wound up around/in doriath, and has no reason to distrust any of the noldorin leaders.

sure, there’s no humans involved yet, but also that means no traitors yet.

so the union of maedhros is much smaller, but also. it’s stronger. by a lot.

AND it happens like right away.

morgoth doesn’t have time to invent dragons. morgoth doesn’t have time to know what HIT him. a thousand angry noldor are In His House and they have a thousand angry sindar with them and morgoth folds in about five minutes tops.

and this is how a united front of angry finweans could’ve overthrown morgoth in a fun family weekend road trip. thank you for coming to our tedtalk.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Hiii, thanks for opening requests! I'd love something NSFW with human!Reader x Feanor or Thranduil plus ❛ do not be afraid, little one. i will not hurt you. ❜ 

Thxxxx

notes: (I went for Fëanor bc this was my first request for him) ok so Fëanor meeting a human would be canonically impossible so here's my AU where Fëanor lives and Nerdanel has mysteriously passed away for convenience purposes AHAHA (I absolutely adore her though, don't get me wrong). I feel like he was quite OOC in this but I hope that the plot explains his behaviour was because he doesn't want to frighten off his only resource for understanding this 'strange race of mortals' lol. Perhaps I'm being too critical of myself and you all will enjoy this either way

pairing: Fëanor x Reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: NSFW content, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), size kink, hand kink (blink and you'll miss it), hair pulling

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

Do not be afraid, little one. I will not hurt you

You had travelled outside the borders of Brethil for yet another hunt, wanting to escape from everyone and everything for a little while, to simply be outdoors. Your parents had been talking of arranging a marriage for you for years now but as of late they seemed to be taking it very seriously and had arranged meetings for you with two suitors, both of which you turned down. You didn’t want to marry, not anytime soon, anyway. You felt that it would restrict you to a home full of children that you would never be able to get a break from, that you would be torn from the freedom and peace that you found in the outdoors, from the success and productivity you felt when you returned home with good game. You didn’t want to say goodbye to that forever, not when you had so much time for it left. Marrying was not yet necessary. 

You knew that you were pushing the borders of Caranthir’s realm by now. You had seen the maps but knew little of their history: the more you stayed out, the less people knew you, the less suitors came knocking on the door. All you needed to know was how not to get lost, not who drew the borders. 

You had set up camp for the night, a small shelter of branches, your bedroll and a small campfire while your tools were laid out beside you. Making arrows had once been an activity that you did at home, but with your parents’ constant nagging to get married, you found that this too would be done outdoors, not wanting to spend long in the house at all. You were sanding down the shafts of a few new arrows to assure that they were straight, holding it up to your eye every now and then and using the light from the fire to determine whether or not you had got all the kinks out. You began measuring out where the feathers would need to be placed when a scent hit your nose. It smelled fresh, not earthy but floral and clean. Someone was out here with you and they were far too close for comfort. 

You knocked one of your finished arrows and leapt to your feet, peering around in the darkness. 

“Easy, I wish you no harm.” You spun around and found yourself having to raise your arm significantly just to aim at his head. He was tall. His hair was long and dark and he was beautiful, his pointed ears telling you that he was not of your kind. The look of distrust must have burned like wildfire on your face for this elf, who was very clearly much larger and stronger than you, to put his hands up in a gesture of peace. You lowered your bow. 

“I thought elves had lighter hair.” You spoke, wanting to try and provoke any ill behaviour now before he could have the chance to catch you off guard. 

“I am no Sinda.” He replied simply and you pursed your lips, thinking back to some of the soldiers of King Thingol that you had encountered on your hunts. 

“Then you must be the other sort of elf, the one which the Sindar do not like.” There was a look of both annoyance and amusement on his face. You wondered if he was trying to be patient with you. You hoped to wear any facade of his thin. 

“You would be right, many of the Sindar would see the Noldor gone from these lands.” 

“So I’ve heard.” You returned to sit on your bed roll, picking up your charcoal to continue marking out your arrows. 

“It is rare that I see hunting parties of mortals in my son’s lands.” Your eyes flickered back up to him at that. His son? But if his son was one of the Princes that ruled over a realm of Beleriand, wouldn’t that make him a King? A part of you now wished that you had studied the history of those maps. 

“We don’t usually go so far into these borders but have decided to extend our trip a little longer.” 

“And where is the rest of your party, might I ask?” You paused for a moment before slotting your arrow into the stand, picking up the clamped feathers and applying the adhesive. 

“Around.” You replied, pushing it towards the fire to allow it to set faster, “I’m not the most sociable person.” There was an edge to his voice that told him to go away, that you didn’t like how he was trying to figure out if you were alone out here. 

“I have little interest in tormenting you, mortal. In any other case, I would have begun the moment I saw you simply because I pleased.” 

“You could attack me at any moment, should it please you. How comforting.” You quipped and he frowned. 

“You are very distrustful.” He noted. 

“I am a mortal woman, it comes naturally. I distrust what could kill me and I distrust men – the two are often synonymous.” 

“So you prefer to seclude yourself?” 

“Oh, would you stop being so observant for five minutes while I try to figure you out?” You asked as you plucked up one of the arrows that had already been cut and feathered, beginning to taper off its end by curling a sharpener around it. 

“What have you figured out, little mortal?” He seemed smug now and it only made you shoot him a glare. 

“You’re a Noldor which means you come from the west, from what I’ve heard the Sindar elves say. You referred to this as your son’s lands and I am aware that it is Noldor Princes that rule over the realms which Beleriand has been cut up into, which would mean you must have some claim to the title of King. For a King to be talking to a lone hunter, you must either be worried that I’m actually some scout or you’re just a curious being and I should inform you that the former would be an incorrect assumption. I serve no one.” You gave a pause, “Except for my parents at dinner on the occasion that I’m home.” There. Now he knew that there would be people to look for you should you not return. 

“And why are you only home on occasion?” You frowned that he neither confirmed nor denied any of your observations and you set the arrow down in your lap, looking back up at him as he had now seated himself on the other side of the fire, legs stretched out as he rested on his side, propped up on an elbow. A very relaxed position, not an ideal one to attack from. 

“New arrangement: you answer one of my questions and I repay you by answering yours, deal?” His eyes twitched. 

“You mortals are very fond of bargains.”

“You elves are very good at alluding direct answers.” You threw back and he laughed lowly for a moment. 

“We have a deal.” 

“So, do you have a claim to the title of King?” You asked. 

“I do. But courtly matters are not my concern. I have other priorities.” You would ask about those later, “Why do you return home only on occasion?” 

“My parents want me to marry. I don’t fancy being cooped up in an overrun house like a bloody chicken.” You replied. You could see the question in his eyes already. “What are your other priorities?” 

“Someone has stolen three gems that I fashioned. They are mine, crafted from light before the sun or moon and I will see them returned to me.” A dark look shadowed his face and you had to both ponder that and the fact that gems could be made. You had only ever heard of them being found in the ground or in fresh landslides: you had found some pretty chunks of quartz that way. “Why does marriage not appeal to you?” 

“I am young and feel at peace in the outdoors. My life is short enough as it is and I will not waste it being trapped in a house. I’ll breach a hill or cliff face on my hikes and to see the green valley outstretched beneath me, forests in the distance, the mountains scraping against the sky. I come across blacksmiths or architects and I know that I would never have the opportunity to learn the beauty of such crafts if I were to be a housewife while my husband works… I know that I’ll never get to see and learn it all so it would be stupid to waste a single opportunity.” 

“You have an adventurous spirit.” 

“And I would need someone equally as adventurous for me to wish to marry him. That sort is few and far between where I come from and all as elusive as I.” You felt a weight on your chest as you thought over the inevitability of your fate. You would not abandon your family nor did you wish to abandon your freedom. You simply wanted more time but that was the one thing not provided to your race. “You said that you fashioned these gems.” You changed the subject as it began to grow heavy, “I was unaware that such a thing was possible, I was under the belief that they had to be found.” A large smile pulled at his lips and he sat up a little more as he began to explain the craft to you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had learned much from the Ňoldo elf that night, even earning an invite to his son’s residence on the shore of Lake Helevorn. Fëanor had held mortals with little regard beforehand. He had heard of Lady Haleth and her people from his fourth son but had been absent during the battle. You were a chance to understand the mortal world a little more, a world living right on the doorstep of some of his sons’ realms. 

Many months passed and you finally found yourself feeling at peace indoors. As you taught Fëanor of the human world, the two of you had begun making trips to the forges together and he had helped you to craft your own knife. You noticed how his question had turned from more general ones of your race to questions more specifically about you and you came to see from his interactions with those around him that he showed you a lot more patience than what seemed to be normal for him. You assumed it was because you were currently his only resource for all the inquiries he had to your race. 

Though, the atmosphere between you two had changed when you announced that you would be returning home at the end of the week. This was the longest you had stayed from home without a word to your parents and you knew that they would be worried sick by the time you returned. Tonight would be the final night that you slept in the guestroom of Caranthir’s that had been given to you. You planned to leave after breakfast the following morning. 

“You have been wonderful company and an equally wonderful student.” Fëanor spoke that evening in the forges as you watched him set what would be a sword to cool. 

“What? Even when I first laid eyes on you and tried to shoot you in the face?” You questioned with a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. He looked up at you with a glare and it only made you smile more at knowing he would allow you to tempt his patience like this. 

“You were wonderful company once you let me get past the trust issues.” He grinned and you scowled at him in return, though your eyes lingered over that smile of his, over his lips. 

You had been getting thoughts of this nature about him for a few weeks now but had thought better against acting upon them. You two came from very different words: he was much older than you, of a race that never fell to illness or age, a father and widow. You were more than sure that offering yourself to him in any carnal manner would only serve to offend him. You swallowed and tore your gaze away from those lips that looked so soft. 

“I hope to return here one day, should I be welcome to.” You spoke up before continuing to lighten the mood: “Even if I’m running away from a ceremony in a wedding dress.” 

“You will be welcome, no matter which is my sons’ realms I am in, Caranthir will open his doors to you, I know.” There was a pause, “Do you truly feel that your parents would lure you into a marriage without telling you?” 

“I’m almost without a doubt, especially after being away for so long without a word.” You shrugged, glancing into the flames of the forge and watching the fire lick at the air, dancing. A long sigh left your lungs. “It’s almost enough to make me not want to go back at all. But they’re my family and I love them. They want the best for me but cannot seem to see that we have very different ideas of what that is.” There was silence for a moment. “You are a father. What would you do in my parents’ shoes?” He took in a deep breath and stepped closer to the forge that he was leaning over with his hands, body rising up a little as he looked at you sitting on the nearby stool. 

“I have no daughters, as you know.” He began, “But, from what you’ve told me of how your people work, marriage is a chance for a woman to be provided for. I can understand why your parents want to see you have that stability, I would want it for my own daughter were I to have one. However, you strike me as an outlier, much like the woman who led your people to Brethil. You can provide for yourself and that, I would take as evidence that you can decide what is best for you.” You pursed your lips as you pondered over his words with a nod of your head. Perhaps you would just need to make a big display of the fact that you could provide for yourself to prove to your parents that they did not need to marry you off. 

Your eyes skimmed form the forge to the ellon’s hands as they curled around the edge of the stone workbench, watching the metal cool. He had beautiful hands, without a doubt. He had removed his rings while he was working but his hands looked powerful, lightly calloused from his profession but not in the same way you had seen of human blacksmiths. The tendons in the back of his palms were pronounced and veins snaked up his forearms. For a moment, you pictured how they would feel pressing against your skin. 

“Would you like to see?” One of those hands beckoned you closer and your head was momentarily snapped from the depths of the gutter that such a movement sent your mind to. You nodded your head, willing your blush away to no prevail, and approached the workbench. His hands glided through the air above the hot metal as he began to explain this phase of the crafting process to you. You were eager to listen to his voice, the passion as he explained his craft to you. He had a soothing voice: deep but not gravelly, like low chords in a harmony. So many things about you seemed to lure you in and you found it difficult to blame yourself, having yet to find an unattractive elf. 

You ended up listening to his voice more than his words and a new thought struck you: what if your parents couldn’t marry you off because you had already been taken by another? Sure, the idea of making a big show of how you could provide for yourself might work but this was bound to. You could think of none other that you would want to have as a first, surely he must be beyond skilled to have borne seven children, but then you drifted back to the belief that he may take offence should you offer yourself in such a way. Did you really plan to do such a thing or was this some strange way of making your fantasy seem more realistic? 

“Where’s your mind, little mortal?” He quizzed and your heart faltered at being caught not paying attention. 

“Weddings, unfortunately.” You skirted around the heart of the truth, “As much as I miss my family, I truly am dreading going back for that reason.” 

“And you have an idea for avoiding such a thing?” Hesitation. 

“No.” Another pause, too deliberate, “Only your earlier suggestion.” He leaned down over the bench that stood between the two of you, grey-blue eyes narrowing as the dark hair at his temples fell over his shoulders. He smiled minutely at what he found, whatever that may be, you were unsure unless he were a mind-reader. 

“You have an idea.” There was a smug tone to his voice, a knowing one. You prayed that it was only because he knew you were hiding something and not because he knew what you were hiding. 

“It’s… impractical.” You attempted to dismiss the subject with a wave of your hand. 

“It’s carnal.” He replied and your eyes burst open wide before your brows furrowed, how could he have possibly known?! “You’ve become easy to read – and there are some signs that your body will express without the need for words. He rounded the bench and you found him mere paces away, towering over you, “Your skin flushes…” His knuckled grazing against the back of your cheek, “Your eyes dilate…” His hand trailing down as his voice dropped to almost a whisper, “Your breathing quickens…” Fingers skimming over your collarbones with how you had loosened the ties on your blouse to withstand the heat of the forge. Your face felt as though it were on fire. 

You knew of sex but had no experience in it whatsoever; beyond women’s gossip and what you had seen of animals you knew very little so feeling a widowed ellon’s hands on your skin made you feel dull in comparison to what his skills must hold. 

Your breath came out in a nervous, shuddered sigh and you closed your eyes for a moment to try and ease your embarrassment at being caught thinking of him in such a way, knowing he would soon demand to know just what had possessed your mind. 

“If I have been… taken by another, it will make it very difficult, almost impossible, for my parents to find a willing suitor. It will only urge them to believe that I can provide for myself.” 

“And you wish to be taken by me?” Those fingers you had just been admiring were now absentmindedly tracing up and down the pulse of your neck. 

“There is none other I can think…” Words became lost to you as his thumb swiped across your lower lip and gently pulled down on it, noting how his eyes had become lidded. 

“May I touch you?” His voice grew quieter with the question. 

“Please.” Was all you could think of in response with a minute nod of your head. His hands were quick to land on the sides of your ribcage, tracing the curves of your body down to your hips and reaching even further down to hoist you up by your thighs, fingertips digging into the softness of your flesh there with a light groan. You let out a gasp and wrapped your arms around his neck for support, unable to resist caressing some of his soft, dark hair between your fingers. 

His nose brushed against yours as he set you down on a different workbench, lips grazing yours in an almost-not-there touch for a moment before his lips crashed to yours and you couldn’t help the small moan that fell from your throat as you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling his hands run firmly from your thighs, over your waist and back down. His tongue swiped against your lips and you realised that you were trembling with excitement as he pulled your body even closer to the edge of the bench, pressing you flush against his chest. You found yourself parting your legs to make room for him and his hands wandered even further up to hold you just beneath your breasts. 

“Let me in…” He whispered against your mouth and, unsure, you parted your lips, almost whining when his tongue began to explore your mouth between kisses. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before travelling to your jaw, making your head fall back both to allow him more access and due to the pleasure of his thumbs swiping over your hardening nipples. Lips pressed flush to your skin, you felt him suck down on the supple flesh of your neck and your hands ran from his hair down his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

With your hands now clutching the fabric in your fists, your mind wandered to what his body looked like under the clothing. You had seen from some of his fitted trousers that his thighs looked powerful, could tell from his shoulders and rolled up sleeves that his arms were strong. You could only imagine what his torso must look like, perhaps also marked with scars from the battles that he told you so little of – you had come to the assumption that they must have been against orcs or some dark creatures of their kind. 

“May I…?” You found it hard to voice the words as you simply tugged on the material. 

“May I remove yours in turn?” He murmured against your skin, tugging at your neckline to graze his teeth against your collarbone. You quickly nodded your head and he took a small step back, guiding your hands down to the hem of the shirt so that you could pull it over his head. You had been right in your imaginings of his body: he was muscular and covered in scars of varying sizes, you reached out to trace your fingers against the white lines before you felt his fingers against the skin of your belly and you raised your arms for him to remove your blouse. You fought the urge to cover your breasts shyly. 

His hands came up to cup the softness of your breasts, thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples and you, in turn, ran your hands over the hills of his abs, his skin rather soft other than any scar tissue that you skimmed over. He reached a hand behind you to help ease you to lay back, his palm pressing up slightly to guide your back into an arch, his other hand continuing to tease your breast. He leaned down over you and you suddenly felt the true size difference between you, his body caging you in. 

His dark hair fell around you like a curtain as he leaned down to give you a fiery kiss that seared your skin as he trailed down to your breast, making you tangle a hand in his long hair again as his lips wrapped around one of your hardened buds and sucked down. The noise that you let out made him press his hips to yours, making you push back against him at the sweet friction it provided, even with your clothes still in the way. 

His hand and mouth switched places before both hands went down to undo the ties on your trousers. While he was doing that, you reached down to tug at the bows on the laces of your boots before kicking them off as he tugged your clothing down your legs. You looked away bashfully, turning your head to the side and covering your face with your arm as he leaned up to look down at you, utterly bare before him. A groan of approval left his lips as his hands roved over the curves of your silhouette. He was yet to be sure of whether or not this applied to all mortal women but you were certainly more curvaceous than any lithe elleth he had seen and it was beyond enticing. 

He took your soft thighs in his hands and pushed them upwards, letting them rest over his shoulders and you drew your arm back to steal a glance at him. 

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, looking down at him where he was kissing the inside of your knee. He gently shushed you in response. 

“Do not be afraid, little one. I will not hurt you.” Fëanor had a very authoritative voice, this much you had learned from the very first time you met him and it was consistent in his character. Now, however, he was so softly spoken, as though you were an injured bird in his hands, and it made your heart soar. You trusted him. 

“I trust you.” You murmured and his lips grazed a line along the inside of your thigh until you let out a shrill gasp when his tongue lapped along the length of your slit. Your hips and legs tensed in his hold as you jerked against his mouth, feeling those powerful hands reach up to hold you down against the stone bench. Your breaths came out in pants and whimpers as he lightly sucked on your clit and then trailed down to dip his tongue into your entrance, the wet sounds of it causing your face to flush with heat. His fingers caressed your thigh, feeling how tense your muscles were. 

“Relax…” He murmured against you, “I’ve got you.” You focused on steadying out your breathing even despite how your head felt as though it were swimming, releasing some of the tension from your limbs. “Good…” He drawled out and you let out a moan as you felt one of his fingers slowly sinking into your cunt. He curled his finger upward and rotated his wrist each time he withdrew it from you, trying to find that soft spot within you. When he did find it, your head fell back with a call of his name and he continued to rub over that spot each time he pumped his finger in and out of you, all while his tongue was lapping against your clit languidly. 

When he withdrew his finger, you whined at the loss, only to moan once more at the feeling of his wet tongue against your even wetter entrance. His hand returned by sinking two fingers into you. You bit on your lip to muffle an utterly depraved moan as he sucked down on your clit while his fingers sank all the way into you.

“Come for me…” He murmured against the bundle of nerves, “Don’t hold anything back, just let yourself feel good and come for me.” You could feel the vibration of his words against you and you quickly nodded your head in compliance as his fingers set up a quick pace, drawing slick sounds from your tightening cunt. 

You reached down to tangle a hand in his hair, the other hand gripping the wrist of the arm slung over your waist, as you felt an overwhelming pleasure pool in your abdomen. Your orgasm was ultimately triggered by Fëanor adding a third finger, sweetly stretching your walls as you came. He eased you through your orgasm before withdrawing, leaning up to look over your flushed skin and heaving breasts as you came down from your high. 

“We can stop now, if you’d like.” There was a certain smug look on his face that showed he knew exactly what your answer would be. You quickly shook your head. 

“No, I need this and I want you.” Your voice came out airy and you reached down to curl a hand against his hip, glancing down to see the outline of his hardened cock under his clothing. 

“Ah, but you don’t need me too?” You shook your head again, fingers gripping him even harder. 

“No! Yes! I need you!” You exclaimed and he grinned down at you, seeming to enjoy dangling the prospect of pleasure over your head like this. He opened his mouth to tease you just a little more but all that came out was a groan as you cupped his cock and stroked through his clothing, “Please.” He leaned down over you once more and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, making you moan at being made to taste yourself in this way. His other hand was preoccupied with unlacing his apron and trousers, dropping one to the floor while the other was pushed to his thighs. Your eyes flickered downwards in an attempt to see the size of him but his fingers under your chin tilted your head back. 

“Look at me.” His characteristic authority bled into the soft voice he was using with you and you found yourself wanting to do nothing else other than what he said as you felt a pressure against your entrance. “If it becomes too much to bear, you will tell me and I will stop. I do not want to hurt you, do you understand?” You nodded your head, “You have words, use them.” The way his hand rested over your throat and his thumb sweetly caressed your jaw as he said this made heat flood through you. 

“I’ll tell you if it becomes too much.” He let out a sigh, trusting your words as the tip of his cock breached your walls. You whimpered at the stretch, reaching up to tangle one hand in his hair as the other curled around the muscle of his bicep. You pulled him in for a messy kiss to distract you from what you could only hope would soon be pleasure enough to rival what he had previously given you. His hand skimmed over your belly and you gasped at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit, making you bury your face into his neck with a moan. “I know…” He murmured against your skin and it only made you bring your legs up to wrap around his waist as much as you could. When he slightly withdrew his hips, you pressed your towards him, chasing him almost and gasping softly when he pushed back into your heat. 

You had only taken in about half of him but you sought more if it would mean erasing the pain that came with the stretch of taking something so big. You continued to push your hips towards him, meeting him with each shallow thrust that became longer at first and then deeper, his thumb still languidly stroking your clit. 

“More, please…” You keened when the pleasure finally outweighed the pain and he set his palm down on the stone beside you, another hand sinking into the softness of your thigh to hold your leg against his body. 

This, by far, had to be the best of all the plans you had concocted to avoid being married off if it came with enough pleasure to send your eyes rolling back like this. You tried to bring him even closer with your legs, nails raking down his arms as his hips began to snap into you. He leaned down closer to you, his arm working under your legs to hook it over his shoulder, pushing it towards your chest as his lips came down to meet yours again, nose trailing across your cheek before taking your earlobe teasingly between his teeth. 

“So tight and taking me so well…” He groaned into your ear and you revelled in having him close enough to hear all his sounds of pleasure, turning you on to no end because you knew they were all because he was buried in your cunt. “Can you come for me again? Hm?” The tone of his voice made you feel so much smaller and inexperienced than him and yet it only served to turn you on more. You nodded your head as one of your hands tangled in the softness of his dark hair. 

One of his hands cupped your breast, teasing your nipple before trailing down lower to press his palm against your lower abdomen. The pressure made you call out his name in a moan as your body seemed to tense up and relax all at once, pleasurable shivers wracking your frame as the intensity of the sensation only built up and up and you were beyond impatient to see it all crash down. 

You could do little more but call out a series of pleas, laced with his name, as you were pushed ever closer to the edge. The pleading only seemed to make him up his ante so you did your best to not let it melt into a string of nonsensical babbles as your walls spasmed around his cock as he made you come a second time, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm to the point that he pressed two fingers into you vermouth, putting pressure down on your tongue, to quieten you – you might have been alone but you were still in the forges, after all. His breath came out in a choked moan and you whined at the loss of him inside you before feeling a trickling sensation on your abdomen, glancing down to see the last of his orgasm dripping from his cock, his white cum painting your skin. 

Perhaps if you didn’t feel so exhausted, you would have been more shocked at how you had possibly just taken something so large inside of you but you could do little more than let your head fall back to the stone with a satisfied hum. He cleaned you off with your discarded panties before tugging up his trousers and tying the apron back around his waist. He eased you up and tugged his shirt down over you before you laid back down. 

“That doesn’t look very comfortable.” He noted as you brought your legs up to curl up on your side. 

“I’m used to sleeping on the ground wherever I go. It doesn’t bother me.” You mumbled in reply. When you cracked your eye open a few minutes later – feeling that your body had finally come down, feeling cooler, your lungs and heart having slowed – you were met with the very welcome sight of a shirtless Fëanor working on that sword over the workbench. With the sweet ache between your legs, you wondered if you would even be able to ride out on your journey tomorrow morning. 

It certainly wouldn’t hurt to stay just one more day. 

🏷️@clumsycopy @edensrose 

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

[curufiend]

Silmarillion Modern Business/CEO AU

Inspired by @doodle-pops own CEO AU

Finwe is CEO of TIRION, a very successful tech company. Finwe founded and owned TIRION for many years, but was mysteriously murdered in his home by an unknown assailant. His company then dissolved into chaos as his son and step son fought over control. Both sides had large followings, and as a result, the company was split in two. A legal battle ensued, and Judge Namo declared that Feanor, as Finwe’s only blood relation, would be allowed to keep the name TIRION, but would be forced to give up half of the profits to his step brother Fingolfin and his new company Hithlum Enterprises.

Fingolfin is the CEO of Hithlum Enterprises. Fingon is his #2, and eventually takes over after Fingolfin dies.

Melkor is the CEO of Angband, and is the main rival of the Finwians.

Feanor is the CEO of TIRION. When things started to heat up at work between him and Fingolfin (while Finwe was still alive) he eventually decided leave TIRION and founded his own company, Formenos. Though he later went back to TIRION after Finwe’s death and gave ownership of Formenos to Curufin. Curufin passes Formenos to Celebrimbor, who renames it RING.

Maedhros is CEO of TIRION after Feanor dies.

Nerdanel is famous sculpter obviously.

Finarfin is a doctor or something and Earwen is a marine biologist. They don’t involve themselves in their family’s bs.

Anairë owns a law firm. Turgon takes over after Finwe dies and she retires. Idril takes over after him.

Finrod is a social media influencer who owns a fashion line.

Galadriel moves to an entirely different state and was the assistant to Melian, a governor. Or maybe a senator? Eventually becomes the president or something lol.

Maglor is a musician of some kind. He’s a starving artist until his family’s drama gets him attention. Eventually adopts two kids.

Celegorm works for the National Parks or something. Maybe a vet?

Caranthir got tired of his family’s bs and made his own company way before Finwe died. He’s incredibly successful. The King of Business. Everyone in his family calls him if they have a problem with their businesses. Has made billions off of his investments alone. Probably found a loophole to get out of paying his taxes. Will help you find it too because fuck the government. Is somehow the richest person in his entire extended family.

Aegnor tried out for the swim team because a girl he was interested in said she thought Michael Phelps was hot. Ends up being insanely good at it and competes at an Olympic level. Fucks Michael Phelps.

Aredhel is a world champion Olympic archer. She likes to volunteer at Celegorm’s work every once in a while. Was in an abusive relationship as a teenager and had Maeglin when she was pretty young.

Argon is a famous basketball player. (He’s TALL)

Amrod was killed in a house fire by one of Melkor’s men in retaliation for something that Feanor did. Amras was left horribly burnt, but survived. He worked odd jobs throughout his life, but never stayed at one for too long. He never truly recovered from his brother’s loss.

Gil-Galad is Maedhros and Fingon’s son. He ends up inheriting both of his father’s companies and as a result, the companies merge back together after many long years apart.

[amethysttribble]

All Your Dreams Have Come and Gone

@feanorianweek Entry 7: Nerdanel & Feanor (Creation), just a little late!

Gil-galad has spent many years carefully crafting a beautiful lie, and Lady Nerdanel is about to destroy it.

Six AUs in which Gil-galad was a grandson of Feanor and one where he wasn’t (now on Ao3).

And we’re finished! After some of the craziest three days of my life! Ah, yay, and thank you so much for everyone who read and enjoyed this story, especially those who reblogged it. I had a blast writing this, more than I have writing a lot of stuff for a while, so your enjoyment means a lot to me. Thank you!

It was Lady Nerdanel who came to visit him.

This was in and of itself not entirely unexpected, but Gil-galad was surprised anyway. Yes, nearly every other descendant of Finwe had come looking for him by this point, but Lady Nerdanel was… infamously reclusive. She kept away from Tirion and most other cities as if she was a criminal, instead staying out on the road, or in her father’s house, or in Aule’s halls. Allegedly, she called on very few people, usually only very old friends or much beloved family.

Gil-galad was neither of those things.

She sent a letter, though, informing him of her imminent arrival a day out from his isolated home, and set him scrambling, both mentally and physically. What did she want? Oh, it was obvious what she wanted, but what would he say? How would he spin this? Lie, lie, lie, but lies were dangerous, he tried to avoid them when he could. Carefully spun truths were his chosen tool, but-

Well, they called her Istarnie, didn’t they? And unlike wise Nolofinwe and tired Orodreth and eager Fingon and even clever, tricky Finrod- who Gil-galad was reasonably sure had figured him out- there were no more relatives of Lady Nerdanel to obfuscate onto. 

Oh no. 

Without a good answer, Gil-galad turned to cleaning his already neat enough house to make it presentable. 

He kept no servants, no maids or valets or heralds of any kind. Odd, people said, for a former High King- still the High King, in many people's minds and hearts, he was told. It was for that reason, he pleaded, he kept such a humble abode in so remote a place with so little company. He did not want to step on any toes, so to speak, of Arafinwe, Olwe, or even Thingol. Didn’t want to seem bigger than what he was.

And what he was, in the eyes of many Valinorin nobles, was an interloper. Which was true, but for the reason they thought, calling him a ‘backwater king’. Moriquendi. A fine replacement that was no longer needed. 

Which was very funny, and the reason the person in Valinor Gil-galad had spent the most time with since his rebirth was Oropher. To both of their surprise, when they weren’t bickering over borders and the wisdom of splitting the people and battle formations, they had a pleasant rapport. And they bonded over how very much the finer pieces of Valinorin society wished they would just disappear. 

Gil-galad was happy to acquiesce, Oropher less so. Getting monthly letter about how things were going in Thingol’s new, fledgling court was currently one of Gil-galad’s chief joys.

The updates Fingon kept sending him about Arafinwe’s court were less welcome, not because they were unwelcome, or unkind, or unassuming, but because they came drenched in the very obvious conclusion that Fingon had come to. A conclusion about Gil-galad parentage specifically. He was certain it was Fingon who sent Lady Nerdanel to him.

It will be Maedhros, he thought as he watched her ride over the rise towards his valley house. It will be Maedhros she thinks, but I-

Gil-galad thought he might be able to pull-off a reasonably convincing Celegorm. With his silver hair- more grungy iron, really, just simply brunet in some lights, but poets exaggerate- and having actually met him. Well, seen. From afar. Watched, was maybe the word? He had spoken very impressively at Nargothrond while Gil-galad trembled in his boots, scared witless and utterly convinced of his words.

That would be a very impressive father to have, and perhaps he could portray some strife, frame his mother an unfortunate post-Luthien union-

But once Gil-galad was seated across from Lady Nerdanel, watching her sip tea, his cleverness fled him. She was stern and steady, her gaze sharp and discerning, her mouth set in the pinch of- of someone who was not yet disappointed but was braced to be. She reminded Gil-galad of his mother.

Lady Nerdanel looked up at him with steady, compelling eyes and said, “So? Which one of my boys’ are you? I thought I would know when I saw you, but…”

He panicked.

“None,” he said in a strangled whisper, already screaming at himself inside his mind as his heart thundered inside his chest.

Lady Nerdanel’s eyes widened just a little as she slowly put her teacup down.

For a second, he considered back-tracking. Celegorm, he reminded himself, just say he was no longer ‘your boy’ but it was Celegorm. But for a long time now, Gil-galad had known that this was coming, and his life was already over, and that he couldn’t maintain the falsehood he let people believe, and everything he had ever built was going to come crashing down around him.

He’d known that it didn’t even matter if his life and identity and every desire was scattered in the wind, because Sauron had already turned them all to dust, and there was no going back.

Best to confess now, nobly, rather than break Lady Nerdanel’s heart with a straight lie and be a scoundrel.

“None of them,” he exhaled, voice breathy and wispy. “I- I am not the son of any of your sons. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” Lady Nerdanel said, and she spoke without her words shaking, even though they were just as quiet as his own. As if they were speaking so as not to be heard, though no one was around for leagues. “Fingon says- I never believed you were his, and he denies being your father, though he speaks of you fondly. Orodreth knows not even your name. No accounting for you through Turgon, Argon, or Aredhel. Not Lalwen, not Angrod. Aegnor cannot speak for himself in the Halls, but from all I’ve heard-”

“Not Aegnor,” he whispered.

“Not Galadriel, surely.”

“He shook his head, almost amused at the thought of his old friend as his mother. Lady Nerdanel sighed.

“I would almost believe your father to be Finrod, for amused he is with you and how lovingly he speaks of you as kin, but there is Amarie. Unless there are some very unusual circumstances the two of you would like to confess to…”

Gil-galad could not look her in the eye, instead looking into his tea and running his finger around the rim of the cup continuously. They both let the silence hang for a long time- Lady Nerdanel was amazingly patient- while he tried to pick his words carefully. Then he delayed a little longer once he had then, to gather his courage. Or maybe just his repentance.

“My mother and father,” he said carefully, each word a blow as he tried to rip the truth from the long healed wound under which it was buried, “were very boringly married. Traditional. Though, well, she was Noldorin and he was one of the Elves of Mithrim. That’s about as… unusual as it was, which wasn’t very unusual at all during the time I was born.”

Another long silence descended upon them, but this time, Gil-galad was the one waiting for Lady Nerdanel to speak, and he was not so patient as she. After a few minutes he looked up to see that she had slumped against the arm of the couch, head resting against her forehead, eyes squeezed shut. Shame seized him like a choking snake.

“I’m sorry,” he said around his strangled throat, almost moved to tears by her palpable sorrow. He had never- never wanted to deceive anyone like this. Never wanted to give a mother false hope of seeing a piece of one of her children.

Gil-galad had just… He’d been a stupid, foolish, desperate boy, completely unable to conceive of grand Valinor and the grand people from the grand songs whose legacy he was stealing. Nerdanel and Feanor, Fingon and Finrod, Fingolfin and Finwe. They had not felt real to him. Taking up their symbols and colors and letting people make assumptions about his ‘noble father’ hadn’t felt like theft. 

It was just… a costume. 

Those people’s names were not a costume to Lady Nerdanel.

“In my experience,” she said, sounding very drawn, “context gives an apology its strength. So, would you care to explain how and why this… this miscommunication took place, hm? Who are you?”

Gil-galad.

He was Gil-galad. That was the only name that felt right, that had ever felt right. King Gil-galad, of Sirion, of Lindon, of the bright spear and the silver star and-

He knew who he was, once. Who he was now? A harder question. But Lady Nerdanel wasn’t asking about that, she was asking about someone older still, about-

“Erenion,” he said, and it took her a second, but he watched the realization dawn on her face as she caught the slight difference in pronunciation.

“It means son of iron. My mother named me that, in her tongue. That was illegal, but we were… we were peasantry. No one much cared about us, my father certainly didn’t care about the name. He was a simple person. He cared about his goats and the land he’d tended to for centuries and whether the lords could keep Morgoth at bay. He didn’t care if those lords were Sindar, Noldor, Feanorian or Fingolfinian. His lord… my mother’s lord, who she crossed the Helcaraxe with, that was Angrod. She’d deserted his army to marry my father, and no one cared. We- I am no one.”

“How?” she asked simply, mouth agape, sitting up in shock.

Gil-galad sighed, and then laid it all out.

“Dagor Bragollach. I was… young, but not too young. In my forties. We lost Pa, but Ma and I escaped. Angrod’s forces were devastated, but we found… we found Curufin and Celegorm in retreat. We joined their people and marched all the way to Nargothrond. Finrod took his cousins in and all the people with them.

“Everyone had to work in Nargothrond, and everyone had to work for Finrod specifically. There were no… wide open lands that one could disappear into, it was all for the city and the lord underground. Ma was a warrior by trade. She joined up with the guard, started training me. There were no more goats to herd, after all, least not for us. Very specialized trade in Nargothrond, goats. Had to be from specific families- I’m rambling. Sorry. Anyway…

“We, ah… we stayed there for a long time. Stayed when Celegorm and Curufin left. I joined the city guard. Ma… I lost her during the Nirnaeth Arnodiad. I was alone then. Didn’t have many friends, most of them went to fight with Gwindor and- Unnumbered Tears, yeah? Yeah. I was back in Nargothrond, though. We’d lost so many skilled people, between following Gwindor and Finrod to their respective dooms, King Orodreth was so desperate, that I got a few promotions. Captain of the Eastern Guard. That was a shit place to be when… when the dragon came.

“I lived. I lived but… Where were we supposed to go? We were entirely out of lords, Orodreth death, Princess Finduilas-”

Gil-galad had to close his eyes in pain at the thought for a second. Gwindor had loved her. He’d loved her very much, and Gil-galad hadn’t known the princess well, but he’d known Gwindor. She’d always been kind.

He took a shuddering breath and then continued.

“Celebrimbor had long since left, there was no one to lead us, so I… I started walking towards the coast, to the Falathrim kin my father used to speak about, and people followed. No one knew what to do, so they followed me. I didn’t mean to be anyone I’m not, not then at least, I didn’t mean to do high lords business, meddling in something that wasn't mine. I just… wanted to be safe again. Chose a direction and went, and folks followed.

“It was- it was Cirdan who made the mistake. He asked who I was when they brought provisions to us, and I said-”

“Erenion,” Lady Nerdanel cut in tonelessly, “and he heard something else.”

Gil-galad nodded.

“He heard ‘Ereinion’. Treated me like that was true, like I was a scion of kings leading my people to safety and not… Not some desperate kid in over his head. I went with it. Why not? He was lodging me in rooms nicer than any I’d ever seen, giving me food better than any I’d ever eaten. Clothes, free reign to walk where I wanted, smiles. It was the smiles… Everyone was so kind and considerate, bowing to me, talking to me. No one had ever given me a second glance and now everyone looked at me. Looked at me like I was some lost heir, and they were so eager to have me. Addicting, is what it was.

“I didn’t lie to anyone. I just… never corrected them. In truth, it took me a while to realize what had gone wrong. Cirdan was so kind as to not pick at any potential parental wounds, at first I just thought they were treating me as a hero, pronouncing my name wrong; Falathrim are funny folks, that’s what Pa always said. But it all spiraled. I played into it, I admit.

“Cirdan figured me out eventually, but by then… by then, the consequences for my unwitting and then- then quite witting deception would have been… I cannot even imagine. Not just for me, but for Lord Cirdan. And for our people. Our people who had such hope that Cirdan was nurturing, teaching some young lord who could be their king one day. It was a harmless little hope to give them while Turgon yet lived. After the fall of Gondolin, though…

“My lady, you must understand, we were desperate,” Gil-galad, no, Erenion pleaded. “There was no one. Idril wanted to disappear with her mortal husband, no one knew how to feel about her peredhel son. Celebrimbor and Galadriel had written themselves out of succession basically, she wanted her own crown, he hated his family, they both thought being High King was a death sentence, which it was. It was all just… We needed someone, anyone to rally around. I… became that. 

“At the time I thought, ‘Erenion, you’ve done something stupid now. Just stick it out until the war’s over. King Arafinwe is here, make yourself scarce and stick it out until the war’s over.’ I thought he… I thought he would be our king, afterwards. But some people didn’t want to sail. And he left no one behind for Beleriand. I just…”

Gil-galad’s eyebrows furrowed, and old bitterness bubbling up.

“They didn’t care about us. Oh, Arafinwe cared some about his people and family, Eonwe pitied us. Ingwion wanted us to go ‘home’ so desperately. But they didn’t care about us. About people like me, who didn’t care about Valinor. They couldn’t understand that. They couldn’t understand why we wanted our land and our people and our- our kings. Us silly Moriquendi. I was a peasant in Beleriand, but even wearing the mantle of the highest lord in the land I was a peasant to the Calaquendi. And I hated them, even when they were kind.

“A lot of other folk hated them too. So, we stayed. We stayed, and I was so angry, and so tired of being looked down upon, and I enjoyed being a high lord so much, and I was grieving for the land where my pa raised goats. I felt so much and it fueled me to embrace the lie I’d stumbled into. To become a scion of kings. To be Gil-galad, as they had named me during the war.”

It had been a good lie, too. A good life. Gil-galad could not have asked for better, even as he closed his eyes in grief. It was over now. But he would cherish those years. 

Cherish Cirdan, who got him there and taught him how to act. Cherish Elrond, who saw through him in an instant and embraced him as a brother anyway. Cherish Celebrimbor who simply said better you than me and raised a toast in his honor. Cherish Galadriel, who knew all along and did nothing but keep her peace and smile. 

Cherish Celebrian who never knew but loved him fiercely. Cherish Amdir and Oropher who he fought with horribly. Cherish Thranduil- who spent some years of his youth in his court and hated every second of it- cherish Amroth- who did the same and spent the time sighing for something else. 

Every lost Numenorean friend, every bitter memory, every kingly mistake and kingly victory and the look of his city in the moonlight. The happy lives he gave at least a few of his people. Gil-galad would cherish it all.

And he found, now that he had confessed this all out loud, he didn’t regret a single fucking second.

Not even if Lady Nerdanel was rightfully furious with him.

She watched him for a long time, before finally saying, in an inscrutable voice, “And your true parents?”

Gil-galad grimaced, but dredged up the answer.

“Pa… he was not in the halls. We fear he was turned, or worse. I think he might still be across the sea. As for Ma, I’ve not seen her. But I wrote. She knows I’m well.”

He had sent her one letter, hailing her not as a son would but as a king, and she had sent him one letter back, reeking of laughter and hard-tack pride. It was enough. She was happy.

Lady Nerdanel let out a considering hum, studying him for a moment. Then, she started to laugh.

“Ha ha, ha, ahahaha,” she laughed, a deep, belly laugh that had her doubling over. Gil-galad could only stare at her in shock. “Oh, sweet, suffering Nienna. Oh, shit. That’s good. Fuck, you-”

Lady Nerdanel had to wipe tears from her eyes. She looked up to him, a massive grin on her face, and it startled Gil-galad. Startled him so much a wane smile of his own twitched onto his lips. Maybe he wasn’t reviled?

“You took the crown,” she whispered around her giggles, delight in her every word. “They all wanted it so much, Feanor and Fingolfin. Not Arafinwe, but his sons and daughter certainly, and you took it. Swindled right from under their Finwion noses. That’s good. That’s so good. Fuck them, fuck us. None of us deserved the crown. Oh, that’s funny. Kid, I think I’m going to like you.”

Gil-galad laughed, as well, a slightly hysterical sound. Oh, was that where this was going? Well, he was always up for another ruse and he’d been missing a partner since Cirdan was across the sea.

Lady Nerdanel was sounding like she could be very fun, indeed.