#i just always thought fingon is like his father fingolfin and since fingolfin always wants to see maedhros' father as brother

[doodle-pops]

House of Fingolfin | Being Called ‘Daddy’ in Public

Request: Heyo Mina! I'd like to get headcanons for the House of Fingolfin where reader whispers "Daddy" in their ear in public. I can just picture Turgon fainting in public and Argon just "who me? Huh?" Thank you for considering 💖💖 – @rain-on-my-umbrella

A/N: I had lots of fun writing this headcanon, and yeah, Argon is definitely going to panic and get confused.

Warnings: suggestive content, humour

�� ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Fingolfin

It’s a great prank to throw at him if you know what you’re setting yourself up for in the end, so a win is a win. With Fingolfin’s perfect stoic demeanour and ability to have self-control, you could whisper those words in his ear as much as you want, he isn’t cracking.

On a lovely chit-chat with one of his esteemed Lords and you at his side as you partake in the diplomatic conversation, you would grow bored and find the most inopportune moment to whisper, casually, in his ear, “Daddy.”

That’s it. No attachments, no questions, no extra phrases, just ‘Daddy’. Fingolfin is calm as always, his eyes relaxed, not even a clenched jaw as he takes in your words. You might get a small look of disappointment, but his exterior is like a calm sea, however, his interior reflects the opposite.

He’s already had you ten times over in his head and plotting on making the eleventh time a reality since you want to play games with him. You should know that he’s great at playing games like this one, and never loses.

You might take his lack of response insulting because he continues to chit-chat and drags you along with a respectable smile on his face. So what do you do, say it again and again and again. You’re just piling up your punishment right there because when this talk is over, the Kingdom won’t be seeing you for a week.

Fingolfin is a been too invested in teaching you a lesson, getting you to call him ‘Daddy’ so more and doing his damn hardest to bring the purpose of the name to life once more.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Fingon

Everything was going great. He picked you up from your house, greeted you with flowers and a kiss before inviting you on a casual stroll through the city. Somewhere in between, he decided on an impromptu picnic which led him to dragging you around purchasing items.

You found it hilarious to embark on this prank, wanting to see if it would lead to something more…passionate. So what do you do? Wait until he’s about to order treats from the baker and whisper, “Daddy,” in his ear. Poor Fingon is confused because he swivelled his head around thinking that his father was here.

You’re in hysterics, he’s searching for his father and the baker is standing there waiting for his order. Fingon would ask why you’re laughing and where did you see his father. He might even ask if you meant your father and not his.

To keep up the prank, you would cling to his arm and whisper that you did see a daddy and it was him while calling him daddy all over again. Fingon would eventually catch on, and he was getting flustered that you would address him like that so openly. He can’t hide the blush and the heat rising.

Fingon would try to calm himself by telling you that he doesn’t even look like one though he’d like to be a father one day. He might even tease you a bit about how you want him and couldn’t get enough which doesn’t help because it leads to his thoughts slowly being consumed by images of you together.

As much as the term didn’t turn him on like you wanted to, the reason behind it did, and he makes use of his knowledge of the surroundings around the city to find the best spot for an impromptu picnic…with a bit of a physical activity.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Turgon

Of all times possible, during a festival and when he was about to make his grand speech, you found nothing better than give him a lovely pep talk and ending it with a sweet kiss and the devious whisper of. ‘Daddy’ in his hear before you strutted your fine, innocent self away, leaving in disoriented.

His advisor is calling to him to take the stage while he’s choking on air and fighting with the internal images popping up one right after the other to prevent his boner from worsening. It’s already worse, thankfully his robs keep it hidden. Cue the advisor, “My King, are you alright?” “Yes I am” No, he isn’t.

Turgon is a mess during his speech, fumbling , shuffling on his feet and making a few stutters here and there as he spots you in the crowd mouthing ‘Daddy’ to him. You’re not helping, as if that was your plan from the start.

His eyes are honed on your every move during the speech. Successfully, he makes it to the end and leaves the stage as gracefully as he could before issuing one of his servants to request your presence to his chamber immediately.

He is disappointed by your display to behave so lowly and lack decorum that he finds it right to teach you a lesson. You don’t get to reason or beg once Turgon corners you, he immediately gets that innocent façade out the moment you arrive to his chambers.  

Like his father, Turgon enjoys hearing you refer to him as ‘Daddy’ and ensures that it’s all you’re mumbling all night (along with ‘sorry’) since you want to play games and test his patience. You aren’t leaving his chambers until the break of dawn.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Argon

He’s cheerfully engaging with his siblings and cousins as they are all out in public. Laughing and joking with one another as they decide on what to do with the rest of their day. While everyone is discussing ideas, Argon sits down on a bench with you at his side, enjoying the atmosphere.

That’s when you strike. When no one was looking, you ran your fingers along the inside of his thighs and leaned in to whisper ‘Daddy’. Never before had you seen him aroused and confused at the same time. He literally bit his tongue swallowing a moan as you touched his thigh.

Argon would slap your hands away and scoot over to the opposite end of the bench while staring at you flustered. He’s doing his best to keep his heart rate in check and the possible rise of a boner on the low. He’s fidgeting with his pants and tugging at it to bring relief, and it doesn’t because you keep giving him that look.

As much as he was turned on, it’s not for the name calling. “Don’t ever call me daddy!” “Do I look like a father, or even father material?!” “Please, call me something else!” “You’re cruel to me, Y/N!”

Just to tease him some more, you would call him ‘Daddy’ again, but louder since his family wasn’t too far away. He’s on the verge of jumping into the stream of water nearby to save himself the embarrassment.

Argon is in a whirlwind emotions because one minute he’s turned on and the next, he’s disgusted. His arousal is just fluctuating at this point, and it might end with him losing it all because of your name choice. Though, when you’re alone later, he might pick things up where it was left off because to him, since you owe him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms  @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @stormchaser819 @sakurayaxd

[dlatl98]

the Green Stone of Fëanor

Take it. I made it for you. Since you are the my eldest son, you don't have an older brother to protect you, and maybe even your father… In fact, it's unfinished. I started it the day we left. I haven't been able to finish it because I've been busy. I was going to give it to you when it's really finished, but I don't think I have time. Don't look at me like that. The crafting is complete. The unfinished part is magic. I think I made a mistake with the magic settings. As originally intended, it protects and heals the owner. And if someone other than you, the rightful owner, takes it, you will know where it is. However, I wanted to cast a spell to further restrict the owners to you, your siblings, and relatives, but I ran out of time. And since I couldn't limit the owner… Wear it. Then you will know where it is from now on. This stupid jewel will protect the person who wears it. We can only hope that a thief won't be able to wear it openly. However… The relationship between the owner and the one who has it is a bit tangled, so I don't have time to resolve it. If you wear this, The one wearing it will be able to know how you are. Rather than telling the one directly, if you are hurt or in bad condition, it will glow and send healing energy to you. So if it glows and the color of the silver changes, The one will know that you are hurt. Anyone who knows you well will be able to track where you are through that. Knowing and tracking are different things. Knowing is like coordinates on a map, and tracking is like following a compass. Hmm, now that I think about it, I guess it's okay. If someone doesn't know you well, it will be too vague an energy to track. You will be able to know where this is, and where the other person wearing it is, regardless of their condition. Healing is only for you, no matter how far away, and as a side effect, if the wearer knows you well, they will be able to track you when you are hurt and know whether you are hurt or not. Protection is for anyone who wears this. If I had spent more time refining the magic, I would have made it so that only you, your siblings, and those you guys precious people would benefit, but there is nothing I can do. Hurry up and wear it! Put my mind at ease a little, Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo! My son. my eldest son. Big brother and protector to my other children. After all, there is no one else who can protect you but me, and protecting you protects everyone, so I started with you… Don't worry. It's not like I have a bad feeling. It's just that I think I'll be too busy in the future.

Name? Elessar.

Later Maedhros gave Fingon the green stone of Feanor. He had brothers to protect him, but Fingon's were all gone. Fingon was overjoyed after hearing the explanation about Elessar. Although he wasn't particularly interested in protection, being able to know Maedhros's well-being no matter how far away was very important to him. Fingon could not show his father, so he hung Elessar under his clothes. Fingolfin, not knowing that at least one of his nephews was alive, ran off to challenge Morgoth. After losing his father and sitting on the throne he did not want, Fingon looked into Elessar until Maedhros arrived. His only joy was that it did not shine, nor did its silver dim. And in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Fingon had at least one consolation. Although he never did anything hoping for a reward, Maedhros was the only one who always gave him something and comfort.

[at the top of the page my father pencilled: ‘The Green Stone of Fëanor given by Maidros to Fingon.’ This can hardly be other than a reference to the Elessar that came in the end to Aragorn.]

I still think Fingon should receive some more reward.

Fingon has no wife or children? Then at least give him a husband and a lover!

On second thought, it was Fingon's fault too. Hey, what did you do with the helmet that Maedhros gave you! Why do you keep giving it to others?

[fuckingfinwions]

hallo your au has inspired me to write a short fic of my own c: it's sort of fluff of geode au fingon/sold as pet maedhros. can i have your permission to post this on ao3 at some point?

-

"You want to what?" Fingolfin stared at his eldest as if he grew a second head, momentarily untangling his fingers from Maedhros' curls.

"I– I said I want to marry Maedhros," Fingon repeated.

"That's... Fingon are you– Why??"

A good question. Fingon didn't really know why. He barely understood his growing feelings for Maedhros let alone considered marrying him. He always thought he'd marry someone from a more respectable family not the biggest whore in all of Arda, but the sight of his father's hands all over the elf who showed him so much trust and love in the past few weeks urged a sense of chivalry in Fingon that he thought he was no longer capable of.

"Why does anyone marry anyone? For love, of course."

"Not true, you could always marry someone for politics or even tax benefits. Marrying this harlot will only break your heart."

"Not as much you're breaking mine right now. Maitimo loves me father, if he didn't I think I'd have lived my days not thinking much of him either. But I find that I have become infatuated with him as of late and would like get to know him more outside the bonds of servitude."

Fingolfin studied him as Fingon steeled his gaze, Maedhros the only thing between them shaking like a leaf. He made little effort to stop the king's molestation but it was clear from Maitimo's big wet eyes he still wanted Fingon's approval first. It took all of Fingon not to run to him and embrace him and tell him everything would be okay.

"So be it."

Fingon sighed out air he didn't realize he was holding.

Fingolfin for his part was not entirely convinced of his son's declaration. Sure he has noticed Maedhros had been acting a little strange as of late and he did see the appeal in it but Fingon's attention never stayed in one place too long and he'd probably grow bored of Maedhros' shtick eventually. Fingolfin had other pretty Feanorians to fuck in the meantime.

Besides this might be an opportunity for his reckless son to learn a thing or two about responsibility.

"Try not to damage him Findekano." His father stood and brushed away the crease in his robes just as easily as he shoved Maitimo away. "If he is to be your betrothed I expect him to act like one. You'll feed him, wash him, and teach him all the ways of court. And since you're engaged people need to see that you're actually taking the whole thing seriously, so no fucking anyone else for at least a year. Am I clear?"

"Of course! I'll be the most well-behaved husband in all of Arda!" Fingon promised as Fingolfin left the two newly betrothed alone.

This is amazing! And yes, you can definitely post it on ao3, you wrote it! I'd appreciate it if you link either this blog or my ao3 (also called fuckingfinwions) as inspiring it, and also then I can stop by to leave a comment.

Fingon is so sweet, and yay for sticking up for Maedhros! Not actually consulting Maedhros as an equal partner, but maybe they'll get there in time. And Fingon obviously cares about what makes Maedhros happy, not just jealousy of other people using Maedhros.

Fingolfin doesn't believe that the wedding will actually take place, but I have faith in them! In other timelines Fingon is known for his faithfulness, and he's not going to drop Maedhros once he's made up his mind to keep him. And Maedhros is extremely devoted to Fingon, he's definitely going to be trying to make this engagement work. Maedhros isn't stupid either; he doesn't know how a prince is supposed to behave but he can learn, and if that's what his master fiance wants from him, he'll dedicate just as much energy as he does to any of Fingon's other orders.

(Also, was Fingolfin literally about to get a blowjob from Maedhros when Fingon "proposed"? Am I reading the "crease in his robes" and "untangling his fingers from Maedhros' curls" right? Because that sure is some timing on Fingon's part!)

[volvaofowls]

SFW Alphabet for Fingon

A is for Adventure: something they haven’t done but have always wanted to

Fingon would like to travel with you. He has been to quite a few places, but the adventurer’s fire within him calls out to go to far away lands with you. He would like to go with you to the lake Cuivenen, to see the place where the elves have first awoken.

B is for Butterflies: How they act when they’re nervous

When the elder son of Fingolfin is nervous he tends to talk a lot and over share. This is something his father has been trying to help him with since he was little. During nervous moments Fingon would just start spealing the beans in an awkward attempt to discharge the situation.

C is for Crush: what is it like when they have a crush? How do they know/act?

When fingon was a crush he acts as if he had grown wings behind us back, that’s definitely how he feels. Nothing can dampen his mood, everything suddenly seems easy and fine for him. Fingon would also be more bold and spontaneous, he is already, but for the sake of impressing you it will be ramped up to the max.

D is for Date: describe an ideal date for them

Fingon would love to go somewhere with you and see/do something new for both of you. Iceskating is not that common in his homeland, or perhaps some kind of human game he never tried before. Ultimately he doesn’t care exactly what you two are doing as long as you are together and are having fun.

E is for Essential: what is one thing they could NEVER go without

He cannot leave without saying a proper goodbye to you. And a proper goodbye is a lengthy one for him. With lots of words of love and wishes for a good day, hugs and kisses. When all is done Fingon would be already at the door only to turn around and to give you the last last kiss.

F is for Favorite: a favorite anything- food, place, smell, book, etc.

Fingon loves his siblings. He loves to be the older brother, sometimes he gets stressed over their safety, but as soon as they are all together he relaxes and is overcome with feeling of love. If you ask him, he greatly misses the time when they were all babies, he loved to be there for their first achievements.

G is for Giggle: how they laugh/what makes them laugh

He loves to laugh a lot, he cracks jokes all the time. Fingon has a very charming laugh, it starts as low chuckles and grows louder, the sound spreading across the room. Anyone who has ever heard it can’t help to laugh with him.

H is for Holding Hands: Do they like holding hands? Are their hands warm or cold? Pinky promises?

His hands are a lot bigger than yours, with some toughness on the finger pads and palms due to all the training. He likes to give you one or two fingers to hold onto (as you cannot grasp all of them with only one of your hands) when you walk hand in hand, he finds your smaller ones so adorable.

I is for Inside Joke: something they do that everyone thinks is funny but they don’t understand

Fingon babies you a lot. If there is no space at the table Fingon would offer you to seat on his lap with all seriousness in his voice and no dirty thought in his mind. As you would sit on his lap with hot face in front of his snickering family Fingon wouldn’t get what for everyone in such a giggling mood.

J is for Jinx: Are they Superstitious? Does he hold grudges?

This man is far too kind to hold grudges. He worst he can do is just to avoid the person who did him wrong. Doesn’t like to participate in conflicts whatsoever. Growing up in the household where his father and uncle were always in conflict and fierce competition Fingon soaked a lot of that as a child. It took some years and a lot of maturity on his part to realise that conflicts are just waste of time and it’s far more fruitful to be friends rather than enemies.

K is for Kiss: how do they kiss?

His kisses are always shy in the beginning, he builds up passion on them, always starting slowly, allowing you to set the pace and intensity. But is not above giving teasing pecks through out the day. Absolutely loves to give you lots of cheek kisses.

L is for Love Languge: what is their love language? How do they give and how would they like to receive love?

His love languages would be that of touch and quality time, he wants someone always close to him. Fingon enjoys words of affirmations a lot as well, he doesn’t care that much for presents as long as you are with him. Although when it comes to presents from him he always stresses, even if you agree to small presents he always goes overboard with either their size or amount. He feels like one small present doesn’t translate his feelings well enough.

M is for Meant to be: how/when they know someone is “the one”

It wasn't straight away that he fell in love with you. It took some time of getting to know you, to realise how at peace you made him feel and comfortable with himself, to share his thoughts with you without feeling like a emotional fool. After the realisation hit him, Fingon cannot look at you without a smile, he would actively seek you out, to spend time with you. You make him feel like he has wings behind is back.

N is for Nickname: a nickname they would have or their favorite thing to be called

He is very excited for any new nickname you will invent for him. Be it "babe", "kitten" or anything else he hasn't been called before. Fingon would get flustered if you called him by his nickname in public, as even though they are innocent, they feel very private to him when they come from you.

O is for Organization: are they clean or messy?

Fingon is quite clean person. Sometimes he can leave little messes after himself, but they never stay there for too long, as he would clean up after himself. Even though he is a royalty Fingon is not too keen on other people cleaning after him.

P is for Pet Peeve: What’s something they absolutely CAN’T stand?

Fingon takes big pride in his hair. He has an extensive hair routine, as he aims to have the longest hair in the family, right now his hair is the same length as his sisters. So he cannot stand it to see people neglecting their hair or to brush them aggressively. One time Turgon tried to brush out a knot but gave up, Fingon took away the brush from him and did his brother's hair. He just cannot stand bad hair routine.

Q is for Quiet: What do they do for peace of mind

Fingon likes to go on walks, alone or in the company of someone dear to him, but only as the two people; he likes the intimate atmosphere when its just two people. He would go like this with one of his sibling when they were feeling down, walking among the fields and him gently singing for them.

R is for Rainy Day: Do they like rain? What about storms? How would they spend a rainy day?

On a terrace with windows, usually fixing his weapons or something from the house that needed fixing, even though he knows there are people who can do it better, he prefers to do it himself, it makes him feel skilled. He doesn’t do it all the time, as he is busy most of times helping his father manage, but when he does he doesn’t mind some calm. Its so peaceful for Fingon to occupy himself with some small physical work during this periods, with him working on something in quiet room, with just the sounds of rain coming from the outside.

S is for Soft: Describe their softest feature

His softest features are his smile and touch. Whenever he pays attention to what you are saying the smile comes on his face without him controlling it. Whenever he is touching you, he always uses only the gentlest of touches, pouring all of his love into slow caresses. Sometimes words escape him when he is overwhelmed with emotions, and touch is the best way he can communicate in those instances.

T is for Telephone: are they a talker or a texter? How often do they use their phone? (in our case letters)

Fingon has never been that good with writing to you. How could possibly few sheets of paper convey everything he wanted to say? He prefers to wait to talk to you in person, that is when he knows that you will be several days apart, a week even. But when it comes to longer period he would then send you letters, but he is never entirely happy with what he writes, there is just not enough space for everything he wants to say, it feels too condensed and cold. Whenever he would see you after he would apologise for the tone of letters, even though to you they always read so pure and loving.

U is for Unique: a random quirk they have

He likes to dance a lot. Sometimes whenever he is in a discussion with other people he would rhythmically tap his foot or swing lightly on his heels. This man wants more movement in his life, and if you like dancing its all better to him. If that's the case he would always make excuses to invite you to festivals to dance with him, if there is even a minor celebration he would ask the musicians to play music so the two of you could dance, and it wouldn't matter to him that no one else is dancing, his focus is on your movements.

V is for Valentine: Are they the type to celebrate or not?

For Fingon every day is a celebration of your love. After you told his about the Saint Valentine's Day he became very inspired by it - a special day to celebrate your love. He would ask you about all the details of celebration and will make it as close to the cliche as possible (not for the laughs but because he took the cliche details you told him about very seriously).

W is for Wholesome: something extremely pure about them that makes you just *uwu*

Fingon is very good with kids, especially the youngest ones. When his siblings were born he was very excited, always asking him parents to allow him to take care of them, it brought him a lot of joy. You can see how he breaks into a smile and a baby voice whenever there is a baby nearby. And if you were to ask him, he is very looking forward to having kids, he would be happy with any, but he is very excited about the idea of having daughters.

X is for Xenia: How they would entertain a guest/show hospitality

As a public figure Fingon is not very keen of guests. He sees people every day, and his home is his little safe place, a retreat from all the problems. But when he does have guests he goes all out, no expense is spared to make people comfortable. Before you come to see his parents be sends word ahead of you, to inform them what you like, stressing it what he wants you to feel right at home in their house. He is very nervous about it, he wants everyone to like each other.

Y is for Youth: A fond childhood memory they have

His has many memories he would call his fondest. But one of them would probably be when Aredhel got stuck in a tree as a child. He, climbed up to help her get off, but got stuck himself when his clothes got caught in the branches. That's when his older red haired cousin was passing by and seeing two Fingolfin's kids swinging from a tree aided them to get down. He feels rather embarrassed about it, as an heir of his father he never expected himself to be so foolish, but that was the day when his friendship with his cousin Maedhros began.

Z is for Zzz: Sleep habits. Do they cuddle in their sleep? Talk? What do they dream about?

Initially when he falls asleep he always turns away, it’s just comfortable for him to fall asleep that way. But later in the night Fingon turns to you in his sleep and puts his arm around your middle. Couple of times it went lower, because it’s comfortable for him. During the early hours of the morning when he is getting slowly awake he likes to put his face close to yours, so that your noses touch, he finds your nose adorable. Many times you woke up to small pecks from him.

[valasania-the-pale]

Do you have thoughts on what it means for us to get presented with Finarfin instead of Arafinwë in the published Silm? On a linguistic level—and we can’t accuse Tolkien of sloppiness there—it doesn’t make much sense for him to get the Sindarin name over the Quenya.

Maybe considering the Watsonian provenance of the name helps? Because I think Finrod’s partially to blame there. IIRC there was this whole kerfuffle after the Bragollach and Fingolfin’s death where Finrod named his own father High King instead of Fingon. And Finrod even gave him the extra ‘fin’ (instead of just Arfin) to underscore the royal connection. Whether Finarfin actually used this name for himself seems kinda unclear. And then of course, we have Pengolodh to thank for compiling and conveying this all to us. I wonder what he might have tweaked along the way there.

Dolyistically, I suspect Tolkien just wanted Fingolfin and Finarfin to match, and in so doing underscore Fëanor’s distance from them. Because he’s no Fincurfin, is he?

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!!!

So, I think there are multiple potential reasons for this, and some of it might come down to what version of the book we happen to be using. I don't actually know whether different versions or editions of the Silmarillion are like mine, you see, and mine almost exclusively uses Sindarin names over the Quenya, even when describing Aman and characters who dwelt only therein. Feanor is always Feanor, not Feanaro - Maglor always Maglor, not Makalaure; Angband always Angband, not Angamando. So, for me, I've always been familiar with the Sindarin names above the Quenya - when I first entered the fandom, it was actually something of an effort to learn which Quenya names corresponded to who. Some are easy to make the leap from - Findekano is easy to transform into Findegano because k and g use a similar movement of the tongue for me, and then you shift some emphases and boom Fingon. And some don't - Ingoldo becoming Finrod, and Irisse Aredhel took a bit lol.

Personally, I think that Finarfin got a Sindarin name because when his children were introducing themselves to the Sindar court in Doriath, they of course needed to identify themselves; as Olwe's grandchildren to get the goodwill, and as children of their father, Finarfin, just for the simple fact that that's who they are, and that it's unreasonable (and sus) to hide their familial relations to the Feanorions. It probably wouldn't matter too much early on - Finarfin was High King in the West, but only the exiles knew that, since it took Melian a good while to get the story from Galadriel and Angrod, and to reveal that would mean revealing Finwe's death. Until that point, he was the Crown Prince of the Noldor in the West to the Sindar, not High King. He mattered, yes, but not as much as Finwe presumably did.

Once Quenya was outlawed in Doriath, Finarfin probably would have stuck, and while Pengolodh was Gondolindrim, I think that as a use-name, Finarfin probably was used more often for him, especially as he was compiling history and had to go through the effort of talking to people in the lingua-franca at the time, Sindarin. It's hard to communicate effectively with other scholars if they are forbidden from using a specific tongue, so while Pengolodh was presumably free to speak Quenya, the ban would have pressured him to defer to Sindarin.

Which brings me to the third point - I think that in-world, there are probably different versions of the Silmarillion that might use different names, but the version we're most familiar with is the Sindarin edition, the one that would be most-read and appeal to the widest audience possible. Quenya is, after all, supposed to be elvish-Latin as time goes on - used for special occasion, prayer, etc. I don't know that it would even be used as the scholar's tongue past a certain point - again, it would have needed to be *useful*, and a language some cannot speak is less useful than one that all can speak fluently. If Pengolodh wanted to make this a book useful for sharing with as broad an audience as possible, it makes sense that he would opt for Sindarin, not Quenya, despite the slight inaccuracies that not using Quenya forments, and as a consequence it just makes sense to have standardized the names. Some remain the same - Miriel, Finwe, etc. - but most get the translation treatment.

That's my Watsonian explanation, at any rate. I suspect, like you, that the Doylist explanation is that Tolkien wanted to standardize the names for similarity's sake. Knowing him, however, I wouldn't be surprised if he had a reason for it in-world though. He was a linguist, after all.

[elvesofnoldor]

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[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

Shattered: the Importance of Finarfin

From what I've seen, the Silm fandom as a whole doesn't pay a lot of attention to Finarfin. In most of the content I've seen about him, he's reduced to "the calm one," or even "the boring one." Fëanor gets attention (a lot of attention), Fingolfin gets attention too but Finarfin often just gets shunted to the side. The sedate one. The useless one.

And early this morning, I just started thinking about that. And I realized that, like, there's a whole lot of interesting stuff about Finarfin. So I thought I'd talk a bit about that here. :)

(TW for some violence and death/suicide mentions)

For the purposes of this post, I'm just going to be focusing on Finarfin's adult life. Maybe I'll do one on his childhood later if I have the spoons/people are interested.

But anyways. On to the writing.

I'm going to start our timeline when Fëanor threatens Fingolfin in Tirion. Chances are, since it was very public, Finarfin was there. He was aware, of course, that his brothers didn't get along, but watching one of your brothers take action to hurt the other? That's got to be really upsetting, especially for Finarfin, who seems to be much less volatile than either of his brothers, and much more interested in keeping the peace.

And after that? Well, we all know what happens. Fëanor's exile to Formenos. But not just Fëanor, because all his children, plus Nerdanel, go with him. Oh, and Finwë. He goes too.

Finwë who is also Finarfin's father. What do you do when your father so publicly shows that he, essentially, likes your half-brother better than you? You can't help but have a suspicion that if it had been you who'd been exiled, your father wouldn't have gone with you.

But, because you're Finarfin and you've got to be there for Fingolfin, you don't say anything. You say goodbye to your sister-in-law, and your nephews, and your father and then you set about trying to pick up the pieces. Because that's what you always do, isn't it?

And then the debacle with the Trees happens. Your home is in a blackout. This is your first time experiencing real darkness, because you were born in Valinor and have pretty much seen only light or twilight. You're confused and frightened already, and then you find out that your father is dead.

You haven't seen him for years. And now he's gone.

But you've got to be there for your wife, and your children, and your brother, so you deal with it (like you always do).

And then, suddenly, Fëanor's a Valar-hating revolutionary and you're trying to calm him down, but does he even recognize you at this point?

And then he's leaving, and Fingolfin and your other set of sibkids are packing up too, because apparently he has to go to make sure Fëanor will be all right, and Fingon needs to follow his cousin, and the others want to see Middle Earth. You try to persuade them not too, but it it doesn't work. Well, at least you have your children, you think.

And then they come to you and tell you that they're leaving too. And what can you do but follow them? Eärwen says she won't, and someone has to be with them. So you pack your things and you tell your wife you are sorry and you go.

It couldn't possibly get worse, could it? And then, of course, it does, because when you reach the Swanhavens, the beautiful, pearly harbor city where your in-laws live, Fëanor doesn't take no for an answer and decides to just take what he wants.

And there's blood in the sea and the white paving stones turn red, and you and your children are just trying to stop it all but then you look down and you see Eärwen's parents lying on the pier with their throats cut and you know you have to go back.

So you do. Alone. You throw yourself on the mercy of the Valar and they grant it. You go home to your wife and neither of you speak for days because what is there to say when everything has fallen apart?

But, because you are Finarfin and it's what you do, you and Eärwen start organizing relief for the surviving Teleri, and you help the Valar as much as you can. You light lamps in the darkness until the moon rises. You wonder if your children are looking at it too.

From some stragglers of Fëanor's pack, coming back to Tirion, you learn that Fingolfin was betrayed. That Fëanor burned the ships.

And you learn that your children, and your brother, and your niece and nephews, and everyone else, are all on the Helcaraxë. You try not to imagine them freezing to death, or drowning in a black ocean, or buried in the snow, or all the other things that keep you up at night.

Things go back to normal, essentially. Tirion stops being quite as much of a ghost city, and you and Eärwen learn to live in your silent, silent house.

And years pass. You learn from one of the Returned that Fëanor is dead, has been dead for a long time, and you feel a numb sort of grief but it doesn’t really touch you anymore. Your nephew comes home, serious and dull-eyed. You embrace him and you weep. 

It would be a lie to say that you weren’t expecting it someday, but when you open the door to a soft knocking and see Angrod standing outside, you and Eärwen cry and cry. He tells you that Aegnor will not be coming back, that he fell in love with a mortal woman and waits for her with Mandos. You learn to accept this, because there is no alternative. You are Finarfin. You should be used to this by now.

And the years pass, and the years pass, and its a Maia of Námo knocking at your door this time, telling you that Fingolfin is dead, killed by Morgoth, and that he will not be returning from Mandos anytime soon. You ask if you can see him. You hear that he will see no one. You write him a letter for every day anyways.

And there are many more. Five of your nephews from Fëanor’s side are dead, but who knows where they are. Finrod comes home, smiling a smile that doesn’t touch his haunted eyes. Fingon comes too, and sits in your garden for hours, staring at Nerdanel’s statue of Maitimo. Aredhel appears and stands at the seashore, waiting for her son to join her. He does, with Turgon and thousands of others behind him. Aredhel weeps. You rub her back and feel just as helpless as you did at the beginning of it all. 

And the years pass, and the years pass, and Tyelpë comes home, wary and weary, and tells Finarfin that Galadriel has gotten married. 

But she is a child, you almost say, and then you realize that she is not. Not anymore.

And the years pass, and the years pass, and suddenly your are going to Middle Earth again, with a divine army behind you, and you are standing at the gates of Angband and listening to Morgoth’s screams. You stand beside Eönwë and you feel nothing but revulsion. You do not touch the Silmarils when they are taken down.

You had hoped to see Galadriel, but she is not there. Someone tells you that she is expecting a child.

And then there are your two remaining nephews, desperate and wracked with pain, and they beg for the Silmarils, and you would’ve given them, but Eönwë shakes his regal, feathered head.

So they steal them in the night. It isn’t surprising. Why are you surprised? Why are you crying?

Later, you hear that Maitimo--Maedhros, now--killed himself. You begin steeling yourself to tell Fingon when you get home. 

And the years pass, and the years pass, and you wait for your daughter, but it is her daughter that comes first, barely able to stand, her hand shaking like leaves in the wind. She looks up at you and then buries her head in your chest. You stroke her hacked-off hair and this time you do not cry. 

You wait, with Eärwen, with Finrod and Angrod, and now Celebrían, who is waiting thrice over, for her parents, for her children, for her husband. You wait.

And finally, finally she comes home, flickering like a candle in the wind. Her husband, Celeborn, comes first, tells you that she will soon arrive, embraces you and calls you ada.

And then Celebrían’s husband comes, breaks the news that their daughter is not coming, will never come. Finarfin rests his hands on their shoulders as their tears fall into the sea. 

His great-grandsons come later, and bearing a bedraggled someone between them, and it is first Finarfin and then Elrond who recognizes those grey eyes, that once-melodious voice. 

Uncle, says your one surviving nephew. I am sorry.

And, because you are Finarfin, you take his burned, bloody hands and lead him up the beach and towards the city, because if this can happen, perhaps there’s hope for all the others too. 

[theelvenhaven]

Feanor’s Daughter

I’ve had several people encourage me that I take Fëanor’s Daughter a step further and outside of just a readers perspective and go ahead and make her an OC.

If y’all have any questions about her I’m happy to have a discussion about her 💖

So I present to you  Vanifinwë (q. Beautiful Finwe). It’s her Ataresse q. Father Name. I guarantee you that Fëanor would ABSOLUTELY keep Finwë in his daughters name.

Anamartindë (q. Long Fate). Her Amilisse q. Mother Name, it was given to her not long after she was born as Nerdanel had a vision of her. Though she never told anyone what it was about, and Feanor begrudgingly relinquished to his equally as stubborn wife about why she chose it. Though Vanifinwë would eventually understand the meaning of her name.

Failendis (q. Fair Minded/Just/Generous) Her Epesse q. After Name, given to her by not only by her brothers, but those around her who got to know her. Happily she adopted it, though Vanifinwë was her Cilmesse q. Chosen Name

Though when she arrived in Middle Earth she stuck with the Sinda version of Failendis which would be Faeleth (s. Just/Generous One).

* * * Things About Vanifinwë and Coming to Middle Earth* * * 

1. She is the youngest and completely unplanned and unexpected Feanorian, and was born unusually close to Amrod and Amras. So they all three grew up together.

2. Vanifinwë idolized her amille and out does Makalaure in being most tempered like her. Though she does have an explosive temper, it just takes a lot to push her there.

- She’s a renaissance elf when it comes to the arts, always doing what Nerdanel or Makalaure were doing. So she has a broad range of artistic abilities.

- Nerdanel highly encouraged her natural abilities in the arts, as did Makalaurë. The two taking the time to tutor her diligently when she showed interest.

3. Like her parents, she has an incredible will and is very stubborn. She’s not unreasonable unless she see’s that there’s an injustice happening, no matter how minute it seems to someone else. Vanifinwë takes them very seriously.

4. It is how she got Failendis as her epesse, as she was constantly mediating all the brotherly bickering and arguments. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t any of her business, she very stubbornly made it her business.

- Even when she was a little elfling, she’d butt in and tell everyone to stop or point out who was being unfair.

- Much to Tyelkormo’s and Curufinwe’s distaste despite their good relationship, it was utterly annoying as she got older, when she caught wind of them antagonizing Carnistir.

- Tyelperinquar was her closest companion even despite being so close in age with Ambarussa. Even as she got older she had a close bond with him, the two spending lots of time together.

- Each of her brother’s spent copious amounts of time with her to build a strong bond and relationship with her.

- Her closest relationships with her brothers were with Maedhros, Maglor and Caranthir.

5. When Feanor and her brothers first went to Formenos, she stayed behind with Nerdanel for a considerable amount of time before rejoining them there. Nerdanel seemed saddened, but didn’t argue nor discourage her. 

- While there she saw the severity of the state her father was in, and the tension that he seemed to wear constantly.

- Vanifinwë had been in the Fortress with Finwe when he had been killed, and was the first to find him after hearing all the commotion.

6. When her father made the oath, and her brothers took it up- they all heavily anticipated for Vanifinwë to take up the oath too.

- Considering she saw what Melkor had done to their grandfather, and what they had stolen and the further division he had caused. Yet she didn’t take it and refused to take it. 

- This was heavily disliked between her brothers and father alike and Feanor very harshly voiced this to her.

- Fëanor heavily came to the verge of disowning her, and told her to her face. Considering this was his daughter and viewed her just as capable as her brothers. 

- That almost made her take the oath, but she stuck her ground even if it stung badly.

- Those words also had tasted a little too bitter for Fëanor’s taste and he left it all up in the air. Never clarifying further whether he had decided too or not.

- Though Vanifinwë took his inability to push things further as him fully disowning her. It devastated her.

- Vanifinwë almost got the twins to reconsider for Nerdanel’s sake, almost. But Feanor was too adamant and managed to keep a hold over them. 

- She decided at that point if her brothers were going to leave, that she was going to follow too as she wanted to be able to make sure she could help. 

- Fëanor absolutely denied her from following them, straight up telling her if she’d betray him then she had no purpose following.

- Vanifinwë followed anyways, though she joined the host of Fingolfin.

7. When the kinslaying took place, it was Fingolfin that kept her from reacting against her father as he demanded the ships from the Teleri.

- She also didn’t participate at all in the kinslaying, only watching much to her horror how easily her family slaughtered innocent people.

- It was a defining moment that permanently changed her view on her father, and for a time her feelings wavered for her brothers.

- The thing that further set things in stone for the change in heart of her father was when he stranded them in Valinor, and left them no choice but to cross the Helcaraxë.

8. Vanifinwë stuck very close with her cousins and uncle through the duration of the crossing and rarely spoke.

- With as long as it took to cross it gave her plenty of time to fester about her feelings for her father and brothers actions.

- In the rare time she spoke, it was to Fingon about what had happened. Fingon swayed her to at least reconsider her feelings about her brothers, though he validated her feelings about her father.

- Other times she spoke was when she’d speak with Fingolfin apologizing for what her family had done. But Fingolfin only explained she wasn’t responsible for her siblings and fathers actions.

- Though she’d clam up when Fingolfin would ask how it was she felt, the wounds of everything that transpired running too deep and too fresh.

9. When they arrived in Middle Earth and she was reunited with her siblings things were naturally not very warm, even despite their surprise and excitement to see her.

- It was Vanifinwë that kept things so cold, as she knew didn’t know what to expect from her brothers. Whether they’d be made or sad or happy, but even at their happiness she didn’t fall back into the familial groove.

- When they told her Fëanor had died, Vanifinwë didn’t shed a tear nor did she mourn her fathers loss.

- She felt it only fitting for all the chaos and destruction he caused over some gems. Much to her brothers dismay she openly voiced this.

- This very much surprised her brothers, as they had mourned the loss of their father, they had thought she’d do the same.

- But when they told her how Maedhros had been captured by Melkor and they hadn’t seen him since, Vanifinwë wept for him.

- They told her how Amrod has passed in the burning of the ships at Losgar, she flipped into a verbal rage against them. Completely losing her temper against them. Most took her tongue lashing in silence.

- It was Celebrimbor and Maglor who finally got her to calm down and manage to keep Curufin and Caranthir from rebutting angrily in return. Curufin being on edge already for her lack of mourning for Fëanor.

- Once she was calm enough it was then they told her about how Thingol had banned Quenyan, and that she must choose a Sindarin version of her names.

- For a considerable time Vanifinwë went nameless mulling it over, though she told her siblings she refused to use her father name- much to Curufins displeasure.

- It was Maglor who helped her, and merely accepted that she wanted to go by her Epesse mainly. Both drawing to Faeleth.

* * * 

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @allinwonderlands @red-riding @eluriel-undomiel

A/N: I made her on ArtBreeder, then sent her through a couple editing apps to get the freckles and her hair dark enough.

[kendrixtermina]

Observations on the evolution of Maeglin’s character

One interesting thing is that while Maeglin’s role in the story had remained exactly the same (ie, being the dude who betrays Gondolin) since the very first draft version, his actual ‘character design’ underwet various radical changes everything from personality, appearance, background & his position in the city. 

Maeglin Version 1.0 (Lost tales)

Appearance: Swarthy, unattractive

Personality: unlikeable, greedy, no fun to be around

Status: From a prestigious noble house that had somewhat lost its influence as of late, but unpopular for being a jerk, it was considered to make him related to the feanorians  (who were at this point separate from the royal family and also just straight up scoundrels, at least the sons)

Backstory:  Rumored to be part Orc. Had asked Turgon for Idril’s hand but Turgon kinda suspected that he largely wanted her cause she’s his only heir

Circumstances of Treason: Basically offered to betray the city as soon as he was threatened to “buy his freedom”, telling the orcs to take him to their leader cause he#d be more useful alive

So thus far a fairly unremarkable minor standard issue Slimy Villain à la Grima Wormtongue. Pretty boring. Only the idea that he’s a miner really survived from this stage

Maeglin Version 2.0 (Sketch of the mythology/Quenta)

Appearance: Still swarthy but distincly good-looking now

Personality: quite the opposite from before he’s now charming and a skilled sweet-talker, manipulative

Status: Because of the above charm he’s now actually rather respected in the city & Turgon likes him

Backstory:  Here’s where his father first becomes one of the moriquendi, at this point a sindarin deserter of the war. Was one of the last few ppl to be allowed refuge in Gondolin (either alone or with his mom)

Circumstances of Treason: Got apprehended threatened. It’s stated explicitly that he wasn’t a coward or weakling, but this version was already plotting to overthrow Turgon before that happened

By this point he has at least become a cool villain

At this point Tolkien probably realized that he already had very many “charming silver-tongued schemer villains” (Morgoth, Sauron, Curufin...) and decided to give him another overhaul

Maeglin Version 3.0 (Final)

Appearance: Still good looking, but markedly pasty (to go with the new backstory of growing up in lightless dark wood)

Personality: Sort of intense, taciturn introvert, perceptive

Status: Still respected & popular but in this case it seems more deserved like he really worked his way up, cause he’s no longer a sweet talker but noted to be a brave warrior who marched out for the great battle, the gist is less “everyone was fooled by this jerk cause he was smooth” and more “if only he could’ve been content with the sucess he already had”

Backstory:  You know this one already, the whole thing where he escapes from Eol with his mom only to get pursued & witness their deaths

Circumstances of Treason: Explicitly did get tortured & cracked eventually (at least it’s phrased that way in ‘Quendi and Eldar’)

Not coincidentally this is when Aredhel finally gets some characterization beyond “gets kidnapped” & emerged as this cool, likeable tragic character which probably made it seem only right that her kid get some reedeeming features as well  (though this was probably also when he decided to make the elves more idealized as a whole, the lost tales have a lot more starring as episodic villains)- now he’s actually brave & did well enough as a lord, and initially just wanted to be free, get to know all those relatives he was always told about & learn more stuff. So a lot more distinctive than just some basic villain archetype. 

That said it’s an overlooked aspect imho that he’s still ambitious, like its noted that he gets very interested once he hears Aredhel mention that Turgon is very rich & has no male heirs. Which is prolly why they made for Gondolin &not the much closer Feanorian territories cause those are just spartan war outposts & Celegorm has heirs a-plenty with his younger brother & nephew right there; (though part of it is probably that while Celegorm is fun to party with, Aredhel might’ve wanted to go to her reliable reasonale brother now that she’s in a real pinch, or she thought she wouldn’t be found in a more secret location) We’re also told that he very much pursued power & influence once he got to Gondolin (perhaps as overcompensation for having no luck with Idril)

Personally I’d say that wanting to be a respected influential leader isn’t necessarily bad in itself as long as it’s not pursued by crooked means (though some might disagree there) though it’s a character trait that I feel gets forgotten cause it’s not conductive to woobiefication. 

Still, for the final version it seems unlikely that he would have done anything worse than quietly simmer in bitterness over being jilted and being a bit of a jerk to Tuor if Morgoth hadn’t got his hands on him; (Consider that Morgoth had a huge grudge against his grandfather, too) It’s not his fault he got tortured and while he did have exploitable character flaws you can see how if he’d had a better life he might’ve been as heroic as all the other nolofinweans, so he’s a lot more tragic. 

Bit of a waste that he never got to meet Fingolfin or Gil-Galad though they were alive at the same time. (though he could’ve conceivably have met Fingon at the pre-battle strategy meetings and C&C while he & his mom were making their escape, probably Celebrimbor too if he did wind up in Gondolin. )

Must’ve sucked to be the only one who didn’t personally know Fingolfin when Throndor dropped off his body & there was presumably a funeral. I’d also speculate that part of the reason he didn’t like the “Flee to the Sea” plan was that he had no idea what Valinor is like (probably feeling left out when Idril, Turgon & the other lords talked about it) & feared he might lose what influence he had if they got there. 

[arlenianchronicles]

Hi!! :D I really liked the last post about Fëanorians because I had trouble imagining their personality and this helped a lot. ^^ I would love to see your Nolofinwëan headcanons ❤❤

Hello again! I’m so happy you liked my Fëanorian headcanon post and found it helpful! :D I understand it can be tough to imagine character personalities when there’s not much of them; I still have trouble imagining some of the Fëanorians haha ^^;;

I have a clearer image of the Nolofinwëans, so I’m excited to go into them XDD I’ll admit I did some projecting onto Fingon especially, but it’s mostly me projecting one of my OC’s personality/backstory onto him too. Tbh, this is more of a sketch of how I imagine Fingon’s childhood played out, so be warned that this post is a long one. I should also warn y’all that my headcanons for these guys aren’t very happy ^^;; I’ll put in a content warning for mentions of bullying and emotional abuse (mostly caused by the Fëanorians).

If you don’t like these headcanons and they don’t help, that’s totally okay! Lots of people have their own interpretations of these characters, so I’m sure there’s some that are much happier than mine ^^;; I’ll put everything under the “keep reading” tab so you don’t have to read mine if you change your mind. And I’ll also bold the main names like in my previous post; I hope it helps for search purposes, just in case.

Let’s start with Fingolfin. As a child in Finwë’s house, living with Fëanor and Findis, I imagine that Fëanor bullied him a lot. Why? Because Fëanor saw him as a threat, given that Fingolfin is the first-born son of Indis. I think that Findis, and later Írimë, wasn’t viewed with much suspicion by Fëanor because they’re girls (and I even headcanon that Fëanor might’ve had a soft spot for them). And once Finarfin comes along, Fëanor sees him as a wimp, someone who can’t do much to stop him. So Fingolfin is the main target.

Now, to be clear, I sympathize very much with child Fëanor when he’s just lost his mother and his father marries a stranger. This Fëanor is likely more grown-up, though I’m not sure how much; I feel deep down that his actions would be akin to emotional abuse, but that’s a heavy term and I’m not sure if this is a good point in the tale to use it ^^;; So for now, we’ll stick with bullying. Once Fëanor’s a full-fledged adult, then I think it’d classify as abuse. Please feel free to give me advice or clarity, if you want!

So back to Fingolfin. Because of all this happening, I imagine he grows up with self-esteem issues and stress, and some anxiety on the side. He'd believe Fëanor and think that he's not good enough to be Finwë's son, etc. Finwë thinks that Fëanor can't be wrong in anything, so Fëanor must be right about Fingolfin. At the same time, he still loves Fëanor as his brother and wishes for a return of that love. It might stem from a desire to please Finwë (y’know, showing that they can be a real family and that Fingolfin’s making an effort), but also, I imagine he admires Fëanor's confidence in public situations – and especially now that Fingolfin lacks confidence and trust in himself.

Also, if you’re wondering about Finwë, he only scolds Fëanor when he thinks his son is being a bit too harsh, but doesn't do anything for the root of the problem (nor does he know about what goes on away from his sight). Given that Fëanor is his favourite son, I doubt he’d really see his son’s actions, and if he does, he’d be in denial about them.

Despite all this, I've always imagined that Fingolfin grew up with a desire to help others. He's good at diplomatic talk and politics, but he's not good at defending himself from Fëanor, even after he becomes an adult. Fortunately, he moves out once he's older, and being away from Fëanor allows for improvement.

And then he meets Anairë. I envision her as very loving and kind, and nurturing. She supports Fingolfin as he gains more self-confidence. I also headcanon that she wears a gold circlet in her hair at times, while Fingolfin wears a gold crown, and these both inspire Fingon to wear gold in his hair.

On that note, let's talk about Fingon. Essentially, his childhood is somewhat similar to Fingolfin's. However, there's now the added stress of being caught between Fëanor and Fingolfin's houses. He wants to make his father proud and uphold their family name, but that’s a lot for his young shoulders to handle (nor did Fingolfin and Anairë ever pressure him). I also imagine that Fingon, when he was very young, witnessed how badly Fëanor treats Fingolfin – perhaps at a family gathering when the others have gone somewhere else, and Fingon's waiting for his father, hiding behind a pillar or wall etc. It'd be frightening for young Fingon to witness that, seeing someone whom he loves and upholds as a figure of strength be hurt so much, and it would increase his fear of Fëanor too.

But, lo and behold, he becomes friends with Maedros. I'm still not sure how they met, but in any case, Fingon is glad for Maedros' kindness and admires his ability to shoulder leadership responsibilities near easily, not to mention his ease in a public crowd. Fingon ends up visiting Maedros at Fëanor's house, where Fëanor and his other sons are. You can probably imagine how that'd turn out.

Fëanor sees Fingolfin as a threat, so Fingon is also a threat by extension. I don't think Fëanor would treat Fingon with quite the same intensity, but it'd still be some form of emotional abuse. Fingon would be deeply affected by it; his own confidence would go down, and he’d think that he’s not worthy to be Fingolfin’s son or a prince of the Noldor. And let’s not get started on Fëanor���s sons (but yes, let’s).

As I mentioned in my Fëanorian headcanons post, his sons bully Fingon both out of jealousy (because Fingon is Maedros’ favourite) and anger and to get Fëanor’s approval. I imagine mainly Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir doing this; Amrod and Amras might take part at times (following their father and brothers’ example), but are also uncertain of whether it’s a good idea or not. Maglor probably turns a blind eye since he’s too busy perfecting his music.

Maedros would, of course, scold them for being harsh, but that doesn't solve the root of the problem. Nor does he know of how far back the hurt goes. And I think Fingon would be afraid to tell him of what’s really going on because Maedros loves his family a lot. Fingon fears that, if he told him, Maedros would get upset and possibly resent Fingon, and he might not want to be friends anymore. And Fingon doesn't want that. All in all, it’s all very emotionally exhausting, and I think that Fingon would have some crying sessions to himself, since those can be quite cathartic.

Fingolfin doesn't know what’s going on at first either; I think he’d expect that Fingon would be safe with Maedros. But then he ends up recognizing Fingon’s behaviour and how similar it is to what he had, and he asks Fingon about it one day, and Fingon breaks down and tells him everything. Fingolfin comforts him, of course, and tells him not to listen to what the Fëanorians say, and even shares his own experiences so that Fingon knows he isn’t alone. And Fingon doesn't feel alone anymore. Fingolfin becomes his greatest supporter hereafter.

But boy oh boy, now Fingolfin is furious. This is when I imagine his ferocity comes up; he goes to Fëanor and confronts him about it, and Fëanor is startled by Fingolfin’s fierce side since he’s never seen it before. You can think of it as something similar to my painting of angry Fingon, if you like XDD And this is where Fingolfin shows that he is capable of defending others, if not himself. He is fully prepared to protect Fingon however he needs to. And after this, I think Maedros would have to come over to Fingolfin’s house, since Fingon isn’t about to go over to Fëanor’s house and be bullied more (nor would Fingolfin allow it).

(As a side note, Fingolfin showing his fierce side doesn't really help with regard to Fëanor’s suspicions. In fact, it may even increase them a bit, if not a lot.)

Like Fingolfin, I headcanon that Fingon grows up to be good at diplomacy and stuff, but he is also kind and compassionate, quiet and solemn. And also aroace, since I go with the version of canon where he doesn't marry and has no children. I’m sure he’d be a good partner, but all this in consideration, he’d worry about not being good enough as a father, and he wouldn’t want to put his child through the same pain that he and Fingolfin went through. His family’s well-being is his priority, and he loves them dearly. And on that note (if y’all are still reading this ^^;;), let’s bring in Turgon and Aredhel :D

So Fingon has some siblings now! He loves them so much he thinks his heart will burst. It’s only until there’s a family gathering, and Turgon encounters Fëanor’s sons, that Fingon realizes his duty to protect his little brother from suffering the same hurts as Fingon did. In fact, he gets angry when one of the Fëanorians – Celegorm still seems the likeliest one to me, or Curufin loll – insult Turgon, or something like that. And just like Fingolfin, one of Fingon’s strengths is to defend others (even if he’s still not confident enough to defend himself). Because of Fingon’s protection and the combined family nurturing, Turgon grows up stern and confident and with a firm dislike of the Fëanorians. As canon says, he becomes good friends with Finrod (gosh I haven’t even started thinking of headcanons for the Arafinweans aaahhh). I also think of him as a very good architect with excellent visualization. And, of course, he loves his elder brother like no other :’’’)

Aredhel, on the other hand, befriends Celegorm and Curufin (as said in the Silmarillion). How did that happen, you ask? I’m not so sure myself lmao The best idea I have so far is that the two brothers thought her fierceness and spunk impressive for a Nolofinwëan, and they found that she was more risk-taking and no-nonsense than they gave her credit for. As for her, she wants to explore and hunt and be a badass, and it seems that she can learn to do some, if not all, of those things by being with them. And yet I also headcanon that Aredhel adores Fingon as her older brother, so how does this dynamic play out?

An example I have is a little scenario that I thought up; in her youth, Aredhel overhears Celegorm talking crap about Fingon, and gets angry with him. She says she’ll never speak to him again unless he apologizes, but he’s not about to. So she goes to Fingon and tells him. Essentially, he says that he’ll be alright and she doesn't have to worry (he’s not brave enough to defend himself, but he’ll defend her if Celegorm spoke ill of her). Eventually, Celegorm does apologize to Aredhel about it, but it’s not genuine (something like those “I’m sorry I made you feel that way” apologies). She accepts the apology anyway, even though he technically didn’t do her any wrong. This is because she genuinely wants to be his friend, and if she did notice that it wasn’t genuine, she denies it because she wants to believe it was.

I think she becomes more aware of what’s going on between Fëanor and Fingolfin’s houses, but she still wants to keep the connection between Fëanor’s sons and herself. I haven’t really developed that far into her relation with them yet, just her and her family ^^;;

Finally we have Argon. He’s the youngest of the siblings, and at this point there’d be an age gap between him and Fingon. Since Fingon’s settling in his duty as a prince and doing princely things (alongside spending time with his friends and all), I’d imagine he’s not able to keep as good an eye on Argon as he did with Turgon and Aredhel. Nevertheless, he forms the closest bond with Argon due to the shared emotional exhaustion they experience; I headcanon that Argon is deeply affected by the tensions and stress between Fëanor and Fingolfin’s house, and it takes a toll on him as a young child. So he gets some social anxiety and is afraid of large crowds, but when big brother Fingon is with him, he feels a little braver.

And there we are! My headcanons for the Nolofinwëans, as requested :) I might’ve forgotten something, but for now, this is all I have. Thank you for reading this far, if you did!! It was super long, and I’m sorry to have bored anyone ^^;; I actually thought about writing a fic of Fingon’s childhood, but I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon hahaa Thanks again for messaging me anon, and I hope you have a good day/night! <333

[arianaofimladris]

English version of my contribution to Tolkien Secret Santa 2020, written for @meg-pond

The sins of fathers and sons

 Festivals and feasts at the royal palace were always a thrill for both adults and children, the latter finding each time something new and exciting. For Celegorm it was watching everything from a new perspective. At first he stayed with his older brothers, glad that he had been deemed old enough to sit with the grown-ups, but when the gathered elves dispersed in the halls and the gardens and his brothers disappeared somewhere with Fingon, he found himself being bored. So when Amme asked him to check if his younger brothers were not quarrelling, Celegorm used the pretext eagerly and left. Curufin and Caranthir had solemnly promised Nerdanel they would behave, but... Celegorm hoped he wouldn’t have to intervene. He wasn’t Maedhros to know how to deal with soothing ruffled feathers.

The festivities were also a wonderful opportunity for the younger participants to explore the palace gardens or usually unused chambers when the feast was becoming too long. It took a while before Celegorm located his younger brothers building a tower along with Angrod and Aegnor out of everything they could find, from twigs to empty plates. He didn’t really want to join them or startle them and thus ruin their work, and he was about to venture further to find perhaps Maglor, when he heard someone calling him.

“Tyelkormo, come help us!”

Turning around, Celegorm saw Finrod waving at him. He and Turgon were trying to carry a pile of boards, which was intriguing enough.

“What is it?”

“Grandfather has had the wainscot replaced before the feast in one of the halls,” explained Turgon. Unlike Feanor, Fingolfin and his family had come a few days earlier to grandfather Finwe. “These are no longer needed, but look how smooth they still are, they will be perfect,” he claimed excitedly and Finrod nodded in agreement. Seeing that Celegorm had no clue what they were talking about, they started explaining one over the other what idea they had for fun. The smooth boards, they said, should be great for sliding down one of the wide staircases in the palace. They had in mind using the one in the western wing leading to the gardens. It wasn’t frequently used at the moment and the stairs rose in a gentle flight that curved halfway up at a right angle and disappeared in a corridor on the next floor.

“Sound’s like a plan,” Celegorm grinned. He no longer needed to find his brothers to keep himself occupied. “Give me some.”

“Perhaps we can make a competition, if these boards work well,” suggested Finrod. “We have plenty of time.”

Sliding down the stairs was not something any of them had ever tried and the idea sounded appealing. The less appealing part was the fact that there were more tiny interested ears around to hear them.

“What competition?” Celegorm heard Angrod asking and wondered when he had joined them. Turning around, he saw that both his cousins and brothers had sneaked on them, their tower all but abandoned.

“Don’t you want to go check what Artaresto is doing?” Finrod asked weakly, clearly without holding too much hope that his younger brothers would leave, now that they knew what kind of play he and his cousins had in mind.

“Sure not!” puffed Aegnor. “He’s minding Nerwen.”

“We want to play too,” Curufin stated. “You can’t say we can’t.”

“Or what?” Turgon crooked his head as he teased the younger boy.

The ‘I will tell Atto’ hung unsaid in the air, but before any of them vocalised it, Finrod gave his brothers a board to carry. Curufin and Celegorm took the remaining two, while Caranthir trotted behind. Turgon and Finrod clearly had planned everything beforehand, for they led their cousins picking routes where no one could see them. The echo of the feast could still be heard through the open windows they sneaked past, but their way was clear. They found the staircase empty and waiting for them.

“Alright, let’s try them from here first,” suggested Turgon standing just a few steps above the ground floor. “We couldn’t check the balance earlier.”

While the older boys tried to stand on the boards and slide without falling, Aegnor and Caranthir grabbed one of the shorter boards and dragged it up as well. There was a short argument about who was going first, but in the end Caranthir kept the board in place while his cousin straddled it, then let him go. Aegnor slid down with a giggle, Caranthir running after him. They dragged the board up again and again, taking turns. Angrod and Curufin couldn’t really decide whether it was better to slide down sitting or standing, so they were switching from one style to the other, while the older focused on the latter. It took some practicing and quite a lot of hasty jumping off the board was involved before Turgon, Finrod and Celegorm mastered balancing during the slide enough to feel confident enough to drag the boards higher.

“I want too, Ingoldo,” Aegnor called after his brother.

“Oh, we can slide together I guess,” Finrod offered after a moment of hesitation. “I will hold you.”

Celegorm finished his slide and looked up just in time to see Curufin dragging a board up after Finrod and sighed inwardly. He hated being the adult one.

"You are not doing this alone." He ran up, taking two steps at a time.

"I'm hardly younger than them!" Curufin protested and waved at Finrod and Turgon. “And I know how.”

"You are younger. You can slide alone from the tenth step. That's-"

At a startled cry above, Celegorm turned from Curufin, but it was already too late. He could only watch as Finrod lost balance and suddenly the board escaped from under his feet. The boy sat abruptly with a grunted "ouf!", but the momentum dragged him and he slid down after the board still carrying the now screaming Aegnor. The younger boy swept Caranthir on his way and they both tumbled down, falling to the sides at the bottom of the stairs.

For a moment there was a startled silence. Finrod, blinking in surprise, sat on the last step where he had finished the slide, with Aegnor sprawled at his feet.

Leaving the cousins to take care of one another, Celegorm rushed to his brother, who laid unmoving, glued to the marble floor. When touched, Caranthir jerked and looked up, his mouth and chin covered with blood. And then the crying started.

Celegorm picked his brother, feeling utterly helpless. He was never as good as Maedhros or Maglor in comforting his younger brothers and now, between the hysterical sobbing, he couldn’t even get a proper look at his face, as Caranthir wouldn’t even let him touch him.

Aegnor sat up, blinked at his brother, hiccupped and flooded in tears. Turgon ran down to help his cousins, with Curufin and Angrod watching the whole scene in alarm from the middle of the staircase.

“Don’t just stand like that! Bring Atto!”

“Which one?” Angrod glanced at Finrod, who scrambled on his feet and was trying to soothe his crying brother.

“Whichever,” snapped Celegorm over Caranthir’s head. “Just be quick.”

 Meanwhile, in one of the smaller chambers prepared for the festivities, Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin were deeply involved in a discussion regarding the necessary changes in the royal palace that would improve the functionality regarding the growing needs of their growing family. When gathered together in times like this, they would often stay for days and their father’s palace was getting crowded. Since they already had Finwe's approval and some of the works were already taking place, the brothers found themselves a relatively safe topic.

Fingolfin wished to use opportunity to force some changes he had had in mind, while Feanor brought forth new ideas about the lightning. Finarfin backed their plans with structural design details and what was at first a leisure chat about the possible ideas, the three brothers quickly turned into a vivid discussion with sketches made on the nearest available sheet of paper, with splashes of wine here and there as one of them tipped a goblet. There were healthy proportions of fun and arguing as the ideas kept evolving, but before the brothers could talk about the possible rearranging of the palace gardens, they were quite abruptly interrupted by a pit-a-pat of tiny feet and then bombarded with a chaos of explanations provided by Curufin and Angrod, both too agitated to be making much sense. There wasn’t much point in trying to make them slow down and explain what was amiss, so the fathers just followed their sons. Fingolfin joined them as well, as his own offspring was likely involved too.

 The boys did well and instead of bringing one, they brought all three fathers. Celegorm would have thought it amusing, for it wasn’t everyday one could see the three High Princes going in such an agreeable haste, had his brother not smeared the blood running from his nose all over his cheeks when he had tried to cover his face. And had he not been crying so hysterically.

“What happened here?” Feanor glanced at the children, then at the board by Finrod’s feet and looked like he fought an urge to roll his eyes.

“It was an accident!” Finrod and Celegorm both rushed to reassure them.

“I’m sure it was.” The eldest son of Finwe nodded distractedly and knelt by Caranthir. He firmly took his hands away from his face and first of all made sure the nose wasn’t broken, then gently wiped the blood from the cut lip with his finger.

”It is alright, Moryo, just lean forwards and let it pass,” he instructed calmly and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Carnistir sniffed and glared, then, seeing his father still kneeling at his level, wrapped his thin arms around his neck and did as he was told, burying his face in his collar. With a sigh, Feanor picked him and stood up.

“Here, it’s cold,” Fingolfin came closer and passed him his goblet, now almost empty. Feanor nodded in thanks and forced his son to let go of his collar. Once he could see Caranthir’s face again, still red, though some of the blood had been smeared on his robes, he gently pressed the cool metal to the tender nose.

The boy yelped and tried to escape, balancing on his father’s hip.

“Be still, Moryo, it will help.”

"Whose brilliant idea was this?" asked Finarfin once he too made sure Aegnor needed mostly wiping tears and washing his scraped palms.

Finrod and Turgon glanced at each other, but stayed silent.

“We really didn’t mean that...” Celegorm tried to support his cousins.

"And you didn't know better than to stop this foolishness before someone got hurt?" Fingolfin asked, turning towards Celegorm, the eldest among all the children present.

Celegorm looked offended. "I didn't let Moryo or Curvo go all the way down on their own!" he exclaimed and Curufin's annoyed huff backed him up.

"But it was perfectly alright to let the other youngest go."

"Leave it, Nolofinwe," Feanor cut him off with a hint of annoyance, rocking Caranthir in his arms. "My son is not a handler of your offspring."

“I don’t need handling,” muttered Turgon under his breath before Finrod stepped on his foot.

“We are still waiting for an explanation,” Finarfin reminded them sternly. “How did you come up with such a foolish idea to let your younger brothers participate in your hazardous and foolish antics?”

“We didn’t!” objected Finrod weakly. “We went together, only it didn’t work...” he trailed off and winced. Aegnor nodded and looked at his hands, sniffling.

“Did you hurt yourself as well?” Finarfin turned towards his eldest.

“No, no,” Finrod reassured him and wiped his trousers. “I’m fine, Atto.”

Finarfin wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t comment. The children still were not too eager to enlighten their fathers as to what exactly had happened that had resulted in a quite unexpected landing, but any further inquiries were interrupted by Lalwende who came in from the gardens. She stopped at the doorstep, quite surprised to see the whole gathering.

“Why are you occupying the corrid-“ she noticed the boards and grinned. “Oh, so you’re here already.”

“Irime, you’re not helping,” Fingolfin sighed ostensibly.

“Don’t intend to when you’re having fun without me,” Lalwende’s melodious laughter echoed on the corridor as she regarded her brothers and nephews critically. “As far as I can see, everyone’s more or less in one piece. And don’t tell me you forgot how much fun that was.”

Celegorm had hard time trying not to snicker. His father looked a bit like Maedhros, whenever he tried to act like an adult towards his younger brothers and failed. Feanor was doing only marginally better.

And it was all the boys needed.

”Atto, does it mean you too...?” Turgon bolted a question just as Finarfin had to deal with three pairs of curious eyes looking at him expectantly. Caranthir was still sulking, but Celegorm and Curufin were too interested in hearing a story that would not involve them giving any explanations.

“Leave me out of it,” Feanor huffed at his sister.

“Oh come now, you did play too!” Lalwende objected. She was clearly having too much fun at her brothers’ expense. “If only to make sure we wouldn’t mess up.”

“That was not the point,” Finarfin cut them off. “Whoever came up with this idea, I believe you all can draw conclusions for yourselves,” he looked sternly at both his sons and nephews.

“And I think you have some mess to clean.” Fingolfin added and pointed at the disregarded boards. It seemed, though nobody said anything, that they all assumed the eldest boys were responsible for the whole idea.

“Oh...”

“Want Amme,” muttered Caranthir over the hesitant objections. His voice was still thick and he was unusually clingy.

“Yes, I think that was enough excitement for today,” agreed Feanor and passed the goblet back to Fingolfin “Let’s get you cleaned before Amme sees you and then,” he looked pointedly at his brothers, “perhaps we can finish. Curvo, you are going with me too.”

“But-“

“No ‘buts’.”

Beside them, Finarfin was having the same argument with Angrod and Aegnor, who were clearly unwilling to leave. Neither of the fathers surrendered and the youngest offspring of the House of Finwe was promptly taken away.

Not fast enough, however, not to hear Lalwende who stayed behind.

“Alright, before we clean all that. Want to see how it’s done?”

[fuckingfinwions]

I have no issues with the name, thanks!

Well, Fingon was going to break up with him either way, and this way they’re at least together. Maedhros doesn’t think the situation is ideal, but he thinks it’s the best that can be given the circumstances. He thinks he’s being as fair as he can. For example, he has Fingon naked for practical reasons, but he has given him blankets and furs, so he won’t freeze. The guards often take those away when Maedhros isn’t there and try to make Fingon beg to have them back. He’s very used to cold, so he doesn’t always give them the satisfaction, but sometimes when he’s too weak and the guards pour icy water over him, he does, especially when it triggers flashbacks of the Helcaraxe. Maedhros once found out about it and got very mad because he doesn’t want Fingon to freeze to death and he “cares” about Fingon. The guards are more careful after that.

Maedhros is the only source of comfort Fingon has. The guards are crueler to him (though, of course, it hurts more coming from Maedhros), so as much as he hates himself for it, sometimes he allows Maedhros to comfort him and reacts accordingly when Maedhros is gentle with him. Otherwise he would go mad.

Fingon does know about what Maedhros has been through and he’s horrified when he realizes that his “punishments” are the somewhat watered down versions of what was done to Maedhros in Angband. He’s even more horrified when he realizes that if he makes Maedhros mad enough, he will not water them down anymore.

Maedhros is too far gone to realize the gravity of his actions. If he acknowledges how terrible he’s being to Fingon, how much damage he’s doing, he will die of guilt, so he just doesn’t. And you’re so right about Fingon turning into a project for him, even if he would never admit it.

Omg, Fingon being afraid that his cousins would give him back or keep him as a sex slave is such a great and heartbreaking idea! Of course he would think that. He had absolute trust in Maedhros and it was broken so cruelly, why wouldn’t others do it too? My heart is breaking imagining Fingon’s reunion with his father. Fingolfin would feel so incredibly guilty. I think he’s pragmatic enough to have considered the option of Maedhros inheriting the crown if he dies because both his sons have vanished and he will be beating himself up for those thoughts when he finds out.

If he decides to attack Himring, it’s going to get so messy. Himring is hard to conquer, even Morgoth wasn’t able to do it during Dagor Bragollach. And when Morgoth finds out that Fingolfin has moved on Himring, he might use the chance and attack Hithlum where few soldiers are left. Or he could send his troops to Himring and trap Fingolfin between his and Maedhros’s forces. It puts Maedhros in an interesting situation. He has to either leave Fingolfin and his troops to die or he has to open his gates and let them in/join them in the fight against Morgoth. Maedhros isn’t a complete monster. Well no, he is, but he has standards too. He still hates Morgoth and he likes Fingolfin despite the attack, and obviously he wants the Noldor to beat Morgoth, so he has to make a decision.

And if Fingon is with Fingolfin, what will he think or feel about the idea of joining forces with Maedhros. And if Fingolfin has left Fingon in Hithlum, what will he think if he finds out that his father is now fighting alongside Maedhros. Maybe he will even think that once Fingolfin is inside Himring, Maedhros won’t let him go anymore just like he did with Fingon.

I think I will return to my blog or open a new one. Thanks for egging me on. I’m just too lazy to keep a consistent blog, but I’ll try.

Maedhros to Fingon: "I don't always have a lot of time when I visit you, so it's best if we make the most of the moments we have (by spending them having sex, which is all you're good for). But it won't waste any of my time (which is way more valuable than yours, since I don't let you do anything) to pull a blanket away, so you can have blankets. Besides, it's important for you to keep warm and stay healthy."

Maedhros once found out about it and got very mad because he doesn’t want Fingon to freeze to death and he “cares” about Fingon. I love this line, especially the quotes around "cares:

Did Maedhros purposely select guards with sadistic impulses (because the other ones might protest his treatment of Fingon), or do they have some sort of grudge against Fingon? Is it just because Fingon wastes a lot of Maedhros's time that he could use fighting Morgoth? Ooh, I just had an idea - you said these were mostly former thralls. Are they pissed at Fingon for "leaving them behind" in Angband when he rescued Maedhros?

Poor Fingon. People need hugs and positive contact, so I get it. But he really needs hugs from someone other than Maedhros.

Maedhros is just going to keep making things worse if Fingon doesn't escape, isn't he. Not just the "one time punishment" for Fingon attacking him. But realizing more and more things Fingon has are "unnecessary luxuries" and it would be more convenient for Maedhros if Fingon wasn't able to speak, or walk, or whatever. And also, every time Fingon breaks the rules means that Fingon didn't learn is lesson" last time, and so the next punishment has to be harsher so Fingon will behave.

Man, I'd almost forgotten about Morgoth for a minute. But yes, the idea of Fingolfin besieging Himring while Morgoth either pins him down or attacks Hithlum is great! And Fingon's reaction when he finds out that Fingolfin allied with Maedhros is wonderful to ponder. The Noldor need all the soldiers they can get, and Maedhros truly is a skilled commander. Fingon would worry that Maedhros would have to be allowed to continue unpunished, because it really is more important to fight Morgoth than to get revenge for Fingon. (Fingon tries to reassure himself that Maedhros wouldn't be allowed anything more than that, to live in Himring as long he defends it against Morgoth. Surely Maedhros won't be invited to war councils, and Fingon won't have to look at him across a battle plan without flinching. Fingon refuses to think of what Maedhros's help might cost, and if his father would send him back if it meant saving the Noldor. Fingolfin would never, right?)

Also, what if Fingon is with the army that was planning to attack Himring. Sure, he's out of practice, but he wants to get vengeance personally, and also being told "stay in this place and don't leave while I go fight the battle" is reminding him far too much if his captivity. Having a sword in his hand and a horse underneath him and fresh air around him, and honestly just doing something, is exactly what Fingon needs.

Up until he's stuck in a castle with Maedhros because there's thousands of orcs outside.

Also just to complicate the politics even more: What are Maedhros's brothers doing when Fingolfin attacks Himring? Celegorm and Curufin probably at least saw him ride by, did Fingolfin claim he was going for a different angle of attack on Angband? Does Maedhros get a message out once Fingolfin nears Himring? Probably not explaining the details of why Fingolfin is mad, but none of the Feanorians really obey Fingolfin in the first place. Curufin in particular would believe that Fingolfin attacked just because he wanted to make sure Maedhros could never take back the crown. (Despite the fact that Fingolfin had been secretly considering re adding him to the succession, Curufin doesn't know that and hates Fingolfin on principle)

[surpassingvalour]

grief, in isolation

for anon, who requested “angsty nolofinweans after fingolfins death”

~

Fingon didn’t get to say goodbye.

That was what kept coming back to him: again and again he lost those he loved, never getting the chance to give them a last farewell. His mother hadn’t been able to face him after the Kinslaying; he’d been in the middle of a pointless spat with Arakáno right before he was killed; Turukáno and Írissë and Itarillë had vanished without warning, the better for the secrecy and security of Turno’s kingdom, he said in the letter he left behind.

What a load of horse shit. Secrecy be damned, Fingon missed his family. He didn’t know if they’d made it safely to Ondolindë, what had befallen them there, if Itarillë had gotten up the courage to kiss that girl she’d been so enamoured with before she abandoned her, too—

And now he’d lost his father also. Fingolfin hadn’t even left a note like Turukáno. He’d just...left. Charged into battle with no care for anyone other than himself—no, not even for himself. An eagle had been spied carrying his body away, and if it truly was Thorondor as the rumors said, well. Fingon would have words with him about that. He didn’t even get a body to bury. Why would Thorondor return Fingolfin’s corpse to Hithlum when it would be safer in Ondolindë?

He had Maedhros, at least, to comfort him. Maedhros who had lost his own father centuries before, Maedhros who loved him more than he deserved, Maedhros who Fingon trusted would never, ever leave without a goodbye. Not after the last time.

But aside from Maedhros, Fingon was alone.

~

Turukáno knelt by the cairn he had built with his own hands. Sorontar had watched, solemn and silent, as he had dismissed the watchers and tended to the broken form of his father’s body with his own hands. It was not beneath the King of Ondolindë to honor his father like this, even if Ñolofinwë had not also been High King of the Ñoldor.

He even turned aside Itarillë, urging her to keep Maeglin away from the sight. It was not fair that the lad would never meet his grandfather, but Turukáno did not want Maeglin’s only memory of Ñolofinwë to be the bruised and battered thing he was in death.

Now the work was done, and his hands ached. His robes were stained with dirt, his cheeks with tears, his heart with yet another grief. It was too much, too much. And he was alone—by choice he was alone. He had banished his daughter and his nephew to spare them this misery, shunned his friends and lords when they offered to help. This was something he had to do by himself, no matter how it pained him.

He was so lonely in Ondolindë. This was his glorious kingdom, a living memory of Tirion upon Túna, and he was proud of it, proud of his people—and he was so alone. Elenwë was dead; Írissë was dead; Arakáno was dead; Ñolofinwë was dead. All that remained of his family were Itarillë, sweet Itarillë who he loved more than anything, and Maeglin, the ill-fated child he tried to love in his sister’s place.

And Findekáno, somewhere out there, rising to take the throne. Turukáno should be there, standing beside him, supporting him, and yet—

And yet he had risked everything to create this place of safety. He could not leave, not even for Findekáno’s sake. Not when letting Írissë roam free had led to her misery and death.

At least he had a grave to mourn by. Findekáno did not have even that.

~

Itarillë’s hands shook as she attempted to make her words as smooth and elegant upon the page as they once had been. She breathed deep, and still they trembled. But she pressed on regardless, because she needed to write this letter. She had to let her uncle Findekáno know that his father had been laid to rest.

Her father did not allow communications from the outside world. But Sorontar was here, and Grandfather Ñolofinwë was dead, so surely this would be an exception. Itarillë’s heart broke at the thought of Uncle Finno all alone without any family to comfort him—any family but Maitimo, that was. And though she was not as resentful of her Fëanárion cousins as her father, gone were the days where she smiled and sat on Uncle Maitimo’s lap and read him stories written by her mother. She could not muster hatred for him, but neither could she muster love.

Dearest Uncle Findekáno, she wrote, and then paused. Was it alright to write in Quenya? She knew her uncle went by Fingon now, that with Thingol’s ban upon their tongue everyone outside of Ondolindë had changed their names...but surely an Eagle-borne message would not be scrutinized by the King of the Sindar. Then again, if she ever hoped to leave these walls, she ought to practice her Sindarin.

Dearest Uncle Fingon, she tried again, this time in Sindarin. Yes, this was better; it took more effort to think in this second language, which meant she could not spend so much energy purely upon grief.

I write to you because my father will not. I am certain you know this already, but your father and my grandfather, High King Ñolofinwë Fingolfin, has perished...

Itarillë wrote until her hands cramped and her mind went blank—and then she threw the letter in the fire. How could she write to Uncle Finno now, about her grandfather, when he didn’t even know his sister, too, was dead?

~

Maeglin was used to the stares. He was different, an outsider, the only newcomer to Gondolin since its foundation. At least, the only newcomer who yet lived. Everyone seemed to discount Eöl.

So of course people stared at him. It wasn’t all bad; many of them were just curious. And they got used to him after a time, especially when he started to work in the forge and they came to appreciate him for his craft. And then the king his uncle had declared him a Lord of Gondolin, with all the pomp and circumstance that entailed, and people looked to him as some sort of leader instead of a stranger. He still wasn’t quite used to that.

But these stares—this time they unsettled him.

They weren’t looking at Maeglin, Eöl’s son, the stranger, the half-Avari changeling, the boy who flinched from loud noises and couldn’t stay long out in the sun. They weren’t looking at Lómion, Írissë’s boy, the poor royal orphan, the young man who stuttered through his Quenya and couldn’t make any friends. They weren’t looking at Maeglin the smith or even at Lord Maeglin of the House of the Mole.

No, for the first time, people stared at Prince Maeglin, grandson of Fingolfin, the castaway heir of a broken throne.

Maeglin had never met Fingolfin. Turgon hadn’t even let him see the body. He didn’t know if he resembled his grandfather, if Fingolfin would have loved him or hated him, if he would have been welcomed into the great Ñolofinwëan family as Aredhel’s son. And now even the unrealistic fantasy of meeting those relatives of his who still lived was being crushed.

He only had the one grandfather. Eöl had been one of the Unbegotten, fatherless, woken at Cuiviénen. That had seemed wondrous and exciting when Maeglin was a child, and Eöl had for once been happy to talk about the past, eager to remind his son that he, too, had woken alongside Finwë and made the journey west. Only he was braver and better than any Ñoldo, because he had done it alone.

But Maeglin had loved his mother’s stories more, when it came down to it, though the legends were not as grand when he saw them up close. He didn’t feel like Fingolfin’s grandson, not when he’d never met the ellon. And now he never would.

~

Anairë hadn’t known who to go to when she felt her marriage bond break. Eärwen still had her husband, the Valar had doomed Ñolofinwë to his fate, most of her old friends had left with her husband when he marched away from her. It had been centuries—she had tried to move on—she had closed their bond long ago. She didn’t expect it to hurt so much when he died. She didn’t even expect to know.

In the end there was only one person she could talk to. But drawing Nerdanel out of isolation was not an easy task.

The first years after the Flight of the Ñoldor were hectic and dreadful. Nerdanel, Anairë, and Eärwen had stuck close together for survival, but when things began to settle down... Well, Anairë and Eärwen had always been closer to each other than to Fëanáro’s wife. They loved Nerdanel, of course, but...well. She had distanced herself from the line of Finwë even before her husband’s rebellion. And her husband...

And so they drifted apart. Anairë never felt alone, not with Eärwen, and later, not with Arafinwë, too. How strange that her husband’s little brother would welcome her into his bed! Such a fate was not one she could have predicted when she married Ñolofinwë. She had believed then that they would never be parted, that strangeness of Míriel and Finwë and Indis was unique. She knew better now.

And yet: Eldarin marriage was forever. The bond had broken with Ñolofinwë’s death—she didn’t even know how he had died—but it was still there, just...in pieces. Anairë didn’t know how to start reassembling them, if she even could.

Nerdanel’s house was empty the first time she worked up the courage to visit. The second time, her once-sister turned her away. The third time, however, Nerdanel invited her inside.

It was awkward and painful and confusing. But Nerdanel confirmed what Anairë had guessed: yes, this meant Ñolofinwë was dead. No, it would not be possible to rebuild their bond, not with him still confined to Mandos’ Halls.

“But,” Nerdanel had said bitterly, “your husband was a valiant king. I have faith that he will be released someday.”

Anairë did not need to ask about her opinion on Fëanáro’s fate. She, too, had known the Spirit of Fire.

The visit was worth it, though it did not bring peace to her heart. At least now Anairë knew that she was not alone in her strange grief, supposed to be foreign to the Blessed Realm.

And Ñolofinwë would return to her, someday. She just didn’t know if she would return herself to him.

~

[also available on AO3]

[warrioreowynofrohan]

And now for something completely different - I’ve written a fanfic!

I’m well aware that the rescue from Thangorodrim is the single most heavily-written subject in the Silmarillion fandom, but I wanted to put together some of my own ideas on it.

I’m far more interested in Maedhros’ reaction to his rescue than his reaction to his captivity, so the physical/psychological effects of his time as a captive are much less emphasized here than in most other fics I’ve read.

Fanfic - Mithrim

“...recall some pity,” Fingon had said, and Maedhros has wondered at his delusion.  Did you not hear the Doom, cousin? We have forsaken the Valar, and they have forsaken us.

Then the Eagle came.

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

He wandered long between sleep, nightmare, and delerium, but when he awoke it was to find Maglor sitting in a chair next to his bed. There were used plates and cups beside him, and an air of long watching without sleep or rest, yet from the moment Maedhros opened his eyes his brother seemed unwilling to meet his gaze.

“How are you feeling?”

Maedhros took a moment to consider. “Suprisingly well. Not in pain. How long has it been?”

“The healers have been tending you around the clock for nearly a month. Four days ago they said they’d done all they could and you mainly needed rest. Yesterday I convinced Fingon to get some sleep, on the basis that it would be rather ironic if he greeted your recovery by falling unconscious from exhaustion.” Maglor’s gaze slipped to the floor and the deliberately-light tone left his voice. “First time he’s been willing to leave me alone with you since he arrived.” He clenched his jaw and words came in a burst. “I know I’m a coward and I know what you must think of me -”

This needed to stop. Immediately.

“Maglor. Look at me.” The commanding tone came with the ease of instinct, and Maglor slowly met his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for keeping our people safe. Thank you for not leading them on a reckless mission that would get them killed or captured, like I did.”

“I could have tried - . Fingon - ”

“Was mad to have attempted it. And had aid that we would never have had. Maglor, there was nothing you could have done. Even if you could have found me without being captured, rather than handing Morgoth another hostage, the most you could have done was kill me. I am alive because of Fingon, and because it was Fingon, and not another.

“I do not even know how he is here. Did they build ships of their own? Even with years for the work, there is little enough timber in Araman.”

Maglor’s gaze slipped back to the floor. “Yes - I mean, no - I mean, it hadn’t occurred to me, but of course, you wouldn’t know. How would you?”

“Maglor, what?”

Maglor was biting at both his lips now, and his voice was very low. “They didn’t build ships. They came across the Ice.”

Maedhros’ mind considered the possibility and rejected it. “That’s impossible.”

“I know. They did it anyway. It cost them years, all their horses, and a tenth of their people, but they did it.”

For long moments the words refused to register, as though his mind was fighting againt this knowledge, and the knowledge was fighting its way in. A tenth of their people.

“They should hate us!  We have killed them. They should want us dead. Maglor - “ another terrible thought following on the heels of this “- has there been violence?”

“A few minor incidents. No deaths. Fingon went looking for you in part to head off anything worse.”

Well. Given the circumstances, that made a great deal more sense than any other motivation.

“You didn’t kill them, Maedhros. You didn’t burn the ships. That was us. And I knew we were wrong, and I knew you were right, and I didn’t -” Maglor was biting at his lips again. “You know I don’t like to defy father.”

No one in their right mind had liked to defy Fëanor, especially when he was in a rage.

“There’s no difference between us. I did nothing to stop it. I watched them burn, and I did nothing, and thousands of our people are dead because of it. Believe me, Maglor, we are all the same in what we have done.

“But this time, I need you on my side. I think - I think I am beginning to realize what will be needed to unite our people.  Our brothers will not like it. You may not like it. But I need you with me. Do I have your support?”

“You are my king.”

“Not for long. Do I have your support?”

Maglor at last met his eyes, his face set. “Yes. Always, and in everything.”

.....

The next conversation would not be so easy.  He scarcely knew how to face Fingon, except that he could not doing it lying in bed, like an invalid. He had just managed to drag himself to his feet when FIngon entered the room.

Maedhros made it three steps before yielding to the impulse of both body and spirit and collapsing at his friend’s feet. Fingon caught him before he hit the ground.

“Maedhros, you only just woke up! You should be in bed! Here -” Fingon instinctively reached for his now-missing hand before stopping with a wince. “Maedhros, I’m sorry, I couldn’t find any other way -”

Maedhros’ voice abruptly returned. “You’re sorry?” Fingon looked almost frightened at his tone. “You save my life and you say you are sorry? After I have betrayed you? It was bad enough when I thought I was abandoning you to the judgement of the Valar for deeds I led you into! We put you through torment, we sent you to your deaths, and all without cause! And you say you are sorry about my hand? You could with more justice have buried your blade in my throat!”

Fingon’s voice shook. “Do you want to be dead?”

“No - I am very grateful to be alive! - but I cannot imagine how you do not wish me dead! We have done you worse hurt than Morgoth. Fingon, you should hate me!”

“I was angry - for a long time. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care what happened to you. But I couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering. I forgive you. I forgave you before I left to find you, or I couldn’t have done it.”

The offer of a crown that he had never deserved in the first place felt lke a small and paltry thing. His voice came quiet and fervent. “I could live until the end of Arda, and serve you all of my days, and never repay you for this.” He slipped from Fingon’s embrace and bowed his head to the floor at his friend’s feet.

“There is no repayment. I forgive you.” He pulled Maedhros back into an embrace. “I forgive you. I forgive you. I will keep saying it as often as you need to hear it.”

Maedhros could feel himself trembling. “You are a better friend than I ever could or ever will deserve.” He forced his thoughts back to what needed to be done. “I cannot atone for our deeds, but I can try to heal the divide between our people. Do you think you can convince your father to speak to me?”

“I would give it a week - both for me to convince him, and for you to be able to stand on your feet. What do you intend to say?”

“To offer him my apologies, and the kingship - though I do not want him to know the latter until I say it. And I will need the time to convince the rest of my family as well.”

*****

That day was the first time Maedhros had seen the new sun unclouded by the smokes of Thangorodrim. From the window in his room, he watched it set in a glory of orange and purple.

It was not only Fingon who had offered him mercy and rescue far beyond his deserving.

He leaned his head against the windowpane. His voice was scarely a whisper.

“Thank you.

I am sorry.

I will do better.”

*****

The journey to Fingolfin’s camp took hours, although it was only five miles. Maedhros refused the use of horses as diplomatically insensitive, and moved slowly even with an arm around Fingon’s shoulders the whole way.

“I could carry you,” Fingon suggested at one point.

“I think the difference in our heights would present a problem.”

“The difference in our heights is already presenting a problem.” Maedhros had to hunch over considerably to maintain the arrangement, or else find places where the path was on a slope.

They managed it in time, though, and once they had reached the camp Maedhros was able to walk unaided to the house where Fingolfin had agreed to meet him.

Fingolfin was less than delighted with the meeting.

“What did you want to say to me?”

“That we were wrong. That I am sorry. That I will be grateful to Fingon as long as I live.”

“Very well. I hear you. Was there anything else.”

“That our people need to be one. That we cannot fight the war against Morgoth in two divided camps, much less ones that are scarcely on speaking terms. We need united leadership.”

“Ah.” Fingolfin’s look was knowing. “So this is about the succession.”

“Yes.” Maedhros held his uncle’s gaze. “I am here to offer my fealty to the King of the Noldor.” He went to his knees. “You have my life, my loyalty, and my service from this day until my death, if you will accept it.” He paused deliberately. “Where you lead, I will follow.”

“Any why should I desire the pledged loyalty of one who has already betrayed us?”

Maedhros forced himself to keep his voice steady. The question was not unjust. “I can only hope that you will permit me to earn your trust.”

Fingolfin turned away. “Stand.” Maedhros stood. “Why are you doing this?”

“In the first place, because our people need unified leadership, as I said. Yours will never follow me, nor should they. Even if they could be convinced to do so, they would not trust us to value their lives as their own, not after what we have done to them. Can we fight battles with an army that will ever be wondering if we have given them more dangerous positions to safeguard the lives of our own men? It would cripple the war effort from the start.

“Our people will follow you, if we lead them to do so. Your achievements were already much admired even before Fingon rescued me; now they are more so.  If you treat them fairly and equally to your own, you will have their loyalty. You and your son already have mine, unconditionally and in every need; it is the very least that I can offer.

“In the second place, it can scarcely be denied that you have shown better leadership than I have. It is difficult to convince a great people to place all their faith in a king whose sole accomplishment was getting himself captured.

“And in the third place...”

Maedhros broke off. This was the hardest to say, and he had never been used to speak frankly on such matters.  He paced the length of the house, once, then twice, trying to gather his words.  He noticed that Fingolfin was looking at him with more concern, almost with pity, and as Fingolfin’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword he realized what his uncle must be thinking.

“No. It is not that. He did not break me. Granted, that is what you could expect a released captive to say in any event, and there is no way of proving that my rescue was not deliberately permitted. But if the Enemy had intended me to escape, I cannot believe that he would have placed me where the intervention of the Valar was required for my rescue. The merciless has no comprehension of mercy.”

He saw Fingolfin relax. “I cannot fault your logic. I do not deny that I wondered if my son had not been reckless, but I can trust the judgement of the Lord of the Skies.”

Maedhros let out a deep breath. “That is what I was trying to speak of. The wrath of the Valar is upon the House of Fëanor and those that follow it, but it seems that your family has not entirely lost their grace.  At Fingon’s prayer, they have given me back my life, which is far more than I deserved of them; I submit to their judgement. The Noldor will no longer follow the House of Fëanor. The Doom has already proved less immutable than I thought; perhaps it can still be set aside.

“I would ask you not to speak of this to others. My family do not all see matters as I do, and they would take the decision more ill if they knew my thought.”

Fingolfin looked rather stunned. Especially in the later years, the Fëanorians were not known for devoutness. “I believe you are sincere. And I thank you for seeking to unify our peoples. I hope you can believe that I never sought the kingship for my own sake, but I agree that I did not think my people would follow the House of Fëanor after what they have suffered.

“We can arrange a more formal ceremony at a later date, but for the present I accept your offer and your apology.  Until the camps can be reordered into one settlement, we will need to institute more regular meetings between commanders to share intelligence.”

“For the moment, you look exhausted and my son bid me to be careful of your health. Please, sit. I will have food and drink brought.” He waved Maedhros towards one chair at a small table, and seated himself at the other.

“An easy enough first command, my king. Have you any others?”

Fingolfin’s face turned weary, and many of the stern lines softened out of it. “One, if you are willing, and I fear you may find it more difficult than all the rest of this negotiation.

“Please, tell me how my brother died.”

[fauzhee10069]

Made too soon? My ‘woke’ OC in a not so woke times

When I was browsing my old drawings, I found one particular work, a work I made for an OC contest back in early 2016:

dA link: Pre-battle Briefing

She belongs to Tolkien’s world, in The Silmarillion. You know? As his fictional universe was created in 1937, surely the standard of female’s portrayal was quite different than today’s standard. You can read further about that here but in short:

"Tolkien's heroines have been both praised and severely criticized", and that his fictional women indeed have an ambiguous image, of "both passivity and empowerment". - Weronika Łaszkiewicz

I was into ‘prominent female character’ at the time, yeah… I prefer to call it ‘prominent’ rather than ‘strong’ because the later often associates with being physically strong/dominant/masculine. I mean, I want my female character to have importance in her role to the plot, but she doesn’t have to be necessarily strong in hand-to-hand combat, genius or superior to the others… problems that are in Dysney’s Rey and many live action princesses (particularly Mulan) at the moment.

What was her story?

My name is Megileth (or Macilё in quenya), I am a Noldorin elf who was born in Valinor near the end of the Years of the Trees. As a Noldo, I’m not really skilled at activities such as gardening and weaving, the results of my work is always messy, let alone to do the work of men like carvers and blacksmiths.

The contest was creating an OC based on yourself (a self-insert), of course I was being honest that I suck at sewing, weaving, and any handicraft works, something that is highlighted in the Tolkien’s world through female characters like Vairë, Míriel and Arwen. However, my OC Megileth also sucks at men’s works (just like me irl).

I feel that accidentally, Megileth is like Dysney’s (animated) Mulan in 1998 that she hardly fits in with the expectations of Chinese female as ‘the perfect bride’ of the time, but when she finally joined the army (aka ‘the world of men’), she was also struggling to be ‘a man’ and to blend into their world. You can watch more about the analysis of Dysney’s Mulan (both 1998 and 2020) here:

Mulan: A Case of Failed Empowerment

During my childhood, I’m interested in studying political science and strategy of war. My father believed in my potential so he made me study and also taught me swordmanship alongside my brothers. When I reached majority, my father and I joined together in Fingolfin’s entourage to middle-earth. Later, I served as military strategist and an advisor in Hithlum from Fingolfin’s through Fingon’s reign.

This is my build up to give her that ‘prominent role’ in story, as The Silmarillion has many battle in it, I wanted her to be involved with those. During the battles, I didn't make her a strong fighter, but rather a character behind the scenes who works as a military advisor. Surely she can fight too but I gave her that ability more as a requirement because she had to be on the battlefield, I thought it would be convenient if she could fight and strong enough to protect herself.

But at this point, it is also my concern that she could be a borderline Mary Sue as her prominence may competes with Galadriel, Eowyn and Haleth. As a side note, Megileth was not meant to work as a sole strategist, she worked alongside several other advisors in strategizing (mostly men with some women too).

I am also one of the advisors who participated during the Nirnaeth Arnœdiad. I'm proposing a marching formation to Anfauglith. Although I know how to fight, but since my martial skill is mediocre at best, I prefer to stay behind the army and observing the situation.

As I wanted her to be ‘prominent’, I gave her role in “Nirnaeth Arnœdiad”. Even though I wanted her to be a character who gets prominent role, I also refrained from making her a Mary Sue, that’s why I gave her limitation that she was just pretty average in hand-to-hand combat.

At the end of the battle which I barely survived, I wandered as nomadic until I reached Eregion and stayed there. Later, after Eregion was destroyed by Sauron, I along with the other survivors fled and settled in Rivendell. I spent my life there to teach the younger generations to prepare themselves if someday war will happen again.

After her role in climactic event ended, I always like the idea of peaceful retirement, that’s why I made her survive and settle down as a tutor.

The Background of Megileth’s story

In the description in my submission, I’ve written as follow:

The reason I chose this role if I live in Tolkien’s world is because I want to defy the stereotypical views on majority of women during middle-age that they are often portrayed and positioned as healers, wives, beautiful maiden, being powerful with magical powers or stayed behind (that's why women like Haleth and Eowyn are awesome).

Perhaps, I was having mentality of “i'm not like other girls” at the time but I am always like this since my childhood… I like to defy what is defined as “mostly/stereotypical/standard/commonly”... whatever. If all my classmates chose blue, I would choose red.

Perhaps, my upbringing from my father also had an effect on that: he wanted me to be an independent woman, not always dependent on men (it was also due to him being made to work so far from our home that we have to be separated for months). I can't always depend on my father so I have to be able to live without always relying on men.

In addition, the role as military advisor is kinda unique. The real me also very fond of real-time strategy and simulation games. The figure who inspired me in this role and background is Qin Liangyu, female general of Ming dynasty.

I am a history lover, I like to study history from different cultures. I'm not always fixated on prominent female historical figures, but whenever I stumble across them, I'm always interested to learn more about them.

Although my OC might deviates from most of the female characters in Tolkien’s world, I am against Mary Sue and as much as possible I tried not to make my OC to be that. Before I gave Megileth an important role as military advisor, I asked myself: “is that even possible?” Then I found some excerpts from The Histories of Middle Earth vol. 10 “Laws and Customs Among the Eldar” that may support the possibility of Megileth’s role:

In all such things, not concerned with the bringing forth of children, the neri and nissi (that is, the men and women) of the Eldar are equal—

There are indeed some differences between the natural inclinations of neri and nissi, and other differences that have been established by custom (varying in place and in time, and in the several races of the Eldar). For instance, the arts of healing, and all that touches on the care of the body, are among the Eldar most practised by the nissi; whereas it was the elven-men who bore arms at need.

Indeed in dire straits or desperate defence, the nissi fought valiantly, and there was less difference in strength or speed between elven-men and elven-women that had not borne child than is seen among mortals. On the other hand many elven-men were great healers and skilled in the lore of living bodies,

but all these things, and other matters of labor and play, or of deeper knowledge concerning being and the life of the World, may at different times be pursued by any among the Noldor, be they neri or nissi.

- (Morgoth's Ring, "The Second Phase", Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, pages 209-214)

Based on my interpretation, this indicates that although certain custom may develop traditional roles for elvish men or women, it does not mean that these roles must be strictly performed. For example, when generally the arts of war are most practiced by men and the arts of healing are most practiced by women, there are also men who choose to become healers instead of warriors and women who are more interested in learning things that considered masculine.

I was happy that I found those excerpts, they gave me ‘a green light’ for the role of Megileth. However, despite the existence of the excerpts, criticism of sexism in Tolkien’s works remain because the lack of actual story/narrative that reflects that.

Then, what was the outcome of the contest?

I did not win.

That’s it. The reason why I did not win and why the winners won remains a mystery to this day.

I didn't expect to get the first place, but I did hope I could at least be runner-up or third, or even to be part of honorable mentions if there is any. If I'm being honest, of course I was disappointed… for not winning any place, but the bigger thing was that I don't know why?

I think I was too ambitious or overconfident at the time, I thought that my concept of Megileth’s story was quite unique and deserves the attention from the judges, I thought that my drawing was quite good (not a top-tier but still acceptable at least). In the end, I did not win anything.

What was the reason they won? What was the reason I did not win? Actually, what were the qualifications to win? My lack of knowledge about this made it even more difficult for me to accept my loss. Had I known the reasons, I will be more relieved to accept my loss: “so, that’s why she won… hmm, congratulation!”

Then to ease my disappointment at that time, I wrote a post about BEST WAYS TO ANNOUNCE CONTEST WINNERS. Although that post looks like a genuinely helpful post, I actually wrote it as "f*ck u!" to the judges, “you hurt my feeling for disregarding my work without reason!” Yeah, I was a whining womanchild and acting immature like a special snowflake.

Was this related to ‘wokeness’?

Of course up to this day, finding the real reason for that loss is absolutely impossible, but in this year 2020, I try to reflect on this matter.

Was my OC too far-fetched? Was Megileth a Mary Sue? Was Megileth incompatible within Tolkien’s world?

With the lack of actual reason and qualification, I have tried to guess it through the winner.

I am Natalie, Queen of Erebor and Wife of Thorin Oakenshield. I am standing with Thorin on our bedroom balcony, in my nightgown with the view from Erebor behind us. This is after the Battle of the five armies and I have just told Thorin that I am pregnant.

The drawing is beautiful so I don’t have any complain there. The winner created her OC as the Queen of Erebor and Thorin’s wife. The illustration is quite romantic, she was also inspired by Agmir's Seasick fanfiction, a self-insert fanfiction with Thorin/Reader.

The concept is pretty average but quite romantic. I've been reading various fanfics for more than a decade, surely self-insert, OC and reader-insert have become common things in various fandoms. Many readers like to project themselves to be paired with fictional characters with charming appearance.

Apart from that, the role of a queen and someone’s wife is also quite common in the Tolkien’s world. Natalie has a role that most of the female characters there have had, as a queen and a loving wife. She stayed inside the palace, welcoming Thorin in their bedroom, giving him happy news of her pregnancy.

Is it this average role that trumps the (so-called) unique role of my OC?

Natalie wears nightgown (feminity) whereas Megileth wears armor (masculinity).

Natalie fits so well in the world of Tolkien whereas Megileth might be trying too hard to be special in that world.

I’m not criticizing the role of Natalie, being a wife and stay-at-home mom does not make you an inferior woman (the funny thing is, I am dreaming of that life right now). But do you think that Megileth is a Mary Sue… as a female character who wants to get a role in the major event of Nirnaeth Arnœdiad?

Was that what the judges thought at the time?

Another interesting thing behind Megileth's story is that initially, I intended to make a female elf OC as a healer.

…the arts of healing, and all that touches on the care of the body, are among the Eldar most practised by the nissi (women)…

- (Morgoth's Ring, "The Second Phase", Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, pages 209-214)

Had Megileth been a healer (perhaps her name might not be “Megileth”) as I had considered back then, would she fit better in the world of Tolkien? Would I have a chance to win?

It was early 2016, although the term "woke" has already been around back then, it was not yet a trend as it is today. I also wonder, is it possible that the judges at that time become woke today if this contest was held this year?

Or perhaps they themselves actually despise the 'woke culture'.

Afterall, it was just a small contest, something that I no longer need to ponder about it.

Most obvious woke culture in these days can be seen in various Hollywood reboots and Dysney’s live actions (particularly, the princesses).

Looking at those princesses and their portrayal in live actions, looking at Mulan in her 2020 live actions version… perhaps a character like Megileth is finally able to get her time to shine.

But expect the criticisms that might attack her as well.

Megileth and Tauriel

Reflecting on this made me think of Tauriel, she is an OC created by Peter Jackson in The Hobbits film trilogy. Tauriel was a wood-elf (silvan) of Mirkwood and captain of the Elven guard of Thranduil’s Woodland Realm. Throughout the film, a subplot develops involving romance between her and Kíli.

The introduction of Tauriel brought quite a cacophony to the fans, various criticisms had attacked her conception. Just like my OC, she got ‘special’ position that isn’t common for the female elves in Tolkien’s world, as a warrior and head of the Woodland Realm guard.

Tauriel’s portrayal in PJ’s The Hobbits struck her like a double edged sword. The canon extremists criticized Tauriel's status as a female warrior and leader of Thranduil’s elven guard, “Tolkien did not write his female elves like that!” On the other hand, feminists also criticized her for being the love interest, “her love story with Kíli was unnecessary!”

There is a legit criticism regarding Tauriel’s character but there is also fan who defended her in the movies, that her existence has brought improvement for The Hobbits.

Tauriel was probably one of the woke characters who came really earlier.

We may not be able to create a perfect character. Among appreciations for your character, there will definitely be criticisms that accompany it. I think, it is enough for us to be happy that the characters we make successfully bring the attention.

As if someone would care about my OC Megileth XD

Self-Insert and Mary Sue

Why do people write SIs? Because to write a decent main character, you need to have a good idea of who you're writing, and everybody knows themselves well enough to write about. A Self-Insert is not only the easiest character to write about, it is the default character to write about. This is particularly prevalent in fanfic, where the setting is already filled in, and the inspiration comes from someone automatically applying their default character. You have to deliberately create an original story, but a Self-Insertion fanfic writes itself (at least loosely).

Going for an SI over an OC can be a lazy choice, and if that laziness continues to the rest of the work, it can be an indicator of a poor story, but this isn't a flaw inherent to SI stories so much as SIs simply having a lower entry bar.

A Self-Insert is also generally considered to be a fair character to write about. ...An SI is assumed to be an audience member, an 'everyman' to some reasonable degree (even if it is assumed that gun-enthusiasts like to write stories in which guns exist, and so on), and this is a key detail. There's never a hard rule on what's considered wanky, but everyone agrees on a gut level that it's fair to write a story on the premise of “this is what I would do in this situation”. Fanfic is often written on the premise of an altered, different or additional protagonist doing things differently/better/more interestingly than the original story, and the use of an everyman as protagonist is usually considered a fair standard, as it usually below the accepted 'power level' of the setting. ...Even the addition of meta-knowledge, whilst sometimes absurdly potent, is sufficiently within the domain of 'the everyman' that people will read it without harming their SoD, so long as there is a tolerable excuse for why that knowledge is present (though many people do include it as their one unicorn).

Furthermore, there is sometimes an element of challenge to it. Many competent original writers avoid giving their protagonists the idiot ball by making a situation really, really crappy. Thus it becomes for many a question of “can I write an interesting story in which the problem is solved better than in canon?” So not only is the SI trying to do a better job than the original characters, the SI-writer themself is trying to do a better job than the original writer.

To be honest, I think the clearest indicator of a Mary Sue is when they stop being an 'everyman', and start being someone whom the audience cannot bring themselves to relate to.

...A non-Mary Sueish Self-Insert is narratively justified. Narrative justification is easier when the character isn't highly-competent, uncommonly popular, or possessed of traits that would not be expected to come about naturally from the circumstances of that story or character, but I feel that the ability of the story to make any oddities of the characters, setting or plot seem reasonable, logical and believable is the ultimate determiner of whether a protagonist is a Mary Sue.

– frozenchicken, from ‘Sufficient Velocity’ forum.

The contest that I participated in was to make a self-insert character (a character based on yourself), in Tolkien’s world.

Megileth is a character that I created based on myself and what was on my mind (at that time).

I was into prominent female figures (be it in fiction or in history), therefore I also wanted to make a character that fits into that.

The idea of Megileth was also influenced after I read several times about the criticisms of Tolkien’s female characters.

…it becomes for many a question of “can I write an interesting story in which the problem is solved better than in canon?” So not only is the SI trying to do a better job than the original characters, the SI-writer him/herself is trying to do a better job than the original writer…

Perhaps I accidentally made Megileth an improved female character of Tolkien, something that is very trending in the circle of feminism today (Hollywood reboots & Dysney’s live-actions) but very much despised by canon purists and casual audiences.

And the judges may have thought that “Megileth can’t be Tolkien’s character,” “Megileth is Mary Sue,” etc (despite her weaknesses and my careful survey not to defy the canon).

I was considering Megileth as a healer, there are many female elves in Tolkien’s world who are healers, according to “Of the Laws and Customs Among the Eldar”:

The scholiast claims that most female Elves do not fight or kill, because it diminishes healing power in which they have chosen to specialize, and that those male Elves who are healers "abstained from hunting, and went not to war until the last need."

Going by the ‘canon’ rules, Megileth as healer can’t be a warrior, she cannot go to war unless until the last need.

Megileth as a healer would lowkey reflect my childhood aspiration to be a doctor. But for a self-insert character (based on myself), she would hardly reflect me at the time (in early 2016). Because by then, I had long neglected my old aspiration that is already impossible to realize.

I thought that ‘Megileth as an elf warrior and advisor’ would reflect me better than ‘Megileth as a healer’.

Then, comparing Megileth with Natalie (the winner) without knowing what the reasons were from the judges regarding the result, I can only assume that Megileth failed to portray Tolkien’s (female) character while Natalie did it very well.

I Nestad in-Edhil: The Healing of the Eldar

To be honest, I felt there was a sense of contrary to this contest. As the contest was about self-inserting, surely I created Megileth to reflect myself (as much as possible) in Tolkien’s world. Then what about the standard for not making her ‘Mary Sue’?

I didn't think about making Megileth so fit into that world, as in giving her the average roles (healers, wives/lovers/queens or handmaidens) because such a role would not reflect who I was at the time, giving her those roles would make her no longer me.

I was not in love to anyone, I did not fantasize about having romantic relationships with any fictional characters. Therefore I can’t be just <insert canon male character name here>’s lover.

Then, my solution to not making her a Mary Sue was that her fighting ability is average, that she was not the only advisor the Noldor relied on in every battlefield, that she is not an exceptionally genius but her capability is quite acknowledged, that she was involved in a losing battle (Nirnaeth Arnœdiad), and although she survived, she does not make a big name like the legendary Galadriel.

Plus, she doesn’t heal people because she can’t be a healer!

I think it was my mistake for participating in the contest, I was tempted by the gifts they offered for the winner. I shouldn't have been involved in that contest.

Self-Insert character is our personal character, they are “us if we are in a world of fiction”. There should be no character better than another. No one should win over another.

Of course my loss at the contest felt like a personal attack on me. “So I made a bad character? But that character is based on me, am I bad then?”

Since then, I have never taken part in any OC contests, especially if it's based on myself.

…an SI can be written like any other character, with flaws and mistakes, while a Mary Sue is by definition flawless.

Of course, it is perfectly possible for a character to be both an SI and a Mary Sue, and it is my understanding that this is the general state of affairs. It is something about writing about themselves that makes authors unwilling to acknowledge their flaws.

…SIs do frequently fall under the Mary Sue label, but not all SIs are Mary Sue fics, and not all Mary Sues are SIs. Thus, it is possible to write a non-MS SI, but it is not possible to write a good MS fic.

- Grey Rook, from ‘Sufficient Velocity’ forum.

Self-inserts are simply characters based on ourselves. People write SIs for the wish fulfillment and power fantasy. It depends on our imagination and how we fantasize, it is possible to make realistic self-insert without making them a Mary Sue, but there will always be a risk of turning your self-insert into Mary Sue.

I think it's not really fair to use “Self-Insert theme” as a contest, it would be better to have it as an event. Artists and writers can have fun with their self-inserts without having to win or lose, without having to feel that their characters are better or worse than the others.

[sweetteaanddragons]

Other Shadows

I should probably be working on prompts right now, but my brain wanted to write these instead.

These are short AU snippets that explore the concept of “What if a different Vala had been the one to go evil?”

Warning: They are all pretty dark.

. . .

Irmo

Fingon hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours, so he was probably one of the sanest people in the camp at the moment. Those who’d been awake for too many hours longer were either all but nodding off or jittery with stimulants; those who’d been asleep too much sooner were still trembling from their dreams.

Trembling. Screaming. Sobbing. Trying to wrench free from their restraints so that they could drive a tent peg into their brains.

They all had their little ways of coping.

The healers promised that soon they would find a way to induce dreamless sleep. Fingon nodded, and smiled, and told the good news to his people.

Inwardly, he had his doubts.

But now was not the time for doubts. Not here of all places. 

Maedhros’s tent had a wide ring of space around it. Even the two guards stood a wary distance from the tightly tied flaps. Both of them had bloodshot eyes and shaking hands.

They didn’t need steadiness for this job. There was no real threat. It just - It made everyone feel things were safer.

For everyone involved.

Fingon nodded at them. Smiled.

Thirty-six hours ago, he had dreamed that his smile stretched on and on until the skin split and his whole face slid off like the mask it was. It had hurt, slipping off, it had hurt even when he’d held it in his hands -

But that wasn’t real. This was real.

As soon as he forgot that, he’d be in the tent right beside Maedhros.

He slipped inside the tent. There was a light burning because there always had to be a light burning to keep Maedhros from screaming out, and it was a gem glowing out, not an open flame, because there were far too many flammable things in a tent to possibly trust to Maedhros’s restraints.

He was still restrained for now, though. Still tied to a chair since he flinched so violently from every bed they’d offered.

Still trembling in every muscle because he refused to sleep.

Or, as he sometimes put it, to wake up.

He didn’t say anything today. He had yesterday, but Maglor had sung to him yesterday, and that helped, sometimes. Maglor hadn’t sung today, because today was Maglor’s shift to go under the poppy.

It was the only way any of them could bear to stay asleep long enough to truly rest, if it could be called rest.

Maedhros always just spat it back up.

“You really are safe now,” Fingon said helplessly. Hopelessly. It had never worked before. Why should it work now? “This isn’t another nightmare. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Maedhros looked at him and - laughed. Actually laughed. Laughed until tears came out of his bloodshot, sunken eyes, and his chipped, brittle nails scrabbled for purchase on the chair’s left arm, leaving flecks of blood behind.

The right arm just shook under its painfully tight straps.

The stump of the hand he’d gnawed off to escape whatever nightmare he had visioned sprouting from it had no nails left to scrape.

“Alright, it is a nightmare,” Fingon conceded. “But it’s still reality.” He smiled weakly, and the smile stretched and stretched and stretched -

It did not break. His skin did not break.

He told himself that firmly as he forced the smile down.

This was real. This was real. This was real.

It had to be.

. . .

Mandos

The walls of Hithlum were ridiculously tall because they had to be.

It took the dead longer to stack themselves into high enough towers to attack that way.

Caranthir could see them even now at the bottom, reforming after their last attack failed. Pale grey bodies in bone white armor that stacked themselves up with no care for pain and no mind left to think of tools.

As far as they had been able to tell, most of them had only enough mind left to think of what would happen to them if they failed.

There had been a few exceptions.

“He should have known better,” Fingon said numbly beside him. “Turgon knew Ada was gone, he knew - “ He bit back whatever words were next and gripped the top of the wall to balance himself instead. “And now he’ll be the next face over the wall.”

“Not the next face,” Caranthir offered. It was all the limited comfort he had to offer. “He’s strong. He won’t break easily.”

Fingon considered this for a moment before saying what they both already knew. “That doesn’t actually help.” He looked down at the seething mass of undead below. “What do you think he does to them that it makes them fear returning to him so much?”

Caranthir actively tried to avoid thinking about that. It helped nothing, and they couldn’t afford guilt when they sent the shrieking horde back to its master.

The living were already outnumbered by the dead. They had to take precedence if they were to stand any chance at all.

“I’d be more interested to know why only one in ten Men end up in that horde outside our walls,” he said instead. They had been Fingolfin’s walls once, but Fingolfin was dead, and thanks to the retreat, Caranthir had as many men trapped here as Fingon did. He had as much claim to the walls as anyone.

“Maybe they move on too quickly for him to catch them,” Fingon suggested, latching onto the topic quickly. “We’ve always thought they moved on somewhere. Not like us.”

“Not like us,” Caranthir agreed grimly. Not for them was a hoped for paradise. For them there was nothing but the promise that they were bound to the circles of the world for however long it lasted.

Living, dead, or a horrible perversion of both.

His hopes were slowly fading that somewhere out there his brothers were still in the first category.

Fingon was curiously silent beside him, and Caranthir realized, looking at him, that he was building up to something.

“What?” he asked. He had spent the midnight hours removing his uncle’s head so that Fingon would have time to light the body on fire; there seemed little point in delicacy now.

“Seeing my father return after so long made me realize that we still haven’t seen your father yet,” Fingon said quietly. 

“He was strong,” Caranthir said firmly. Perhaps there was still need for delicacy after all, little though he usually thought of it,  if this was going where he thought it was. “Maybe - “

“It’s been two hundred years,” Fingon interrupted. “No one’s that strong, and you know it.”

It had taken Fingolfin twelve years to fall and consent to be pushed into a stretched thin body covered in armor that looked too much like bone. Fingolfin had lasted far longer than most.

Caranthir’s father was strong.

But no one was that strong. Not against a Vala. Not in the end.

“Maybe he’s off attacking Maedhros’s people,” he said.

“Maybe,” Fingon said almost faded hope, and he politely did not mention what they both knew but tried not to talk about: That Curufin had last sent a bird with a message a little over a year ago, and there was a limit to how often messages could simply go astray.

But that wasn’t what Fingon was driving at now.

“That’s not what the men think,” Fingon said. “They think the Halls of Death never held him. That maybe he went straight to the Void.”

The Oath, the accursed Oath, stirred to life within him, and even on Hithlum’s cold walls it felt like a dragon’s wealth of fire.

“I want to swear an Oath,” Fingon said bluntly. He held up a hand to forestall Caranthir’s startled protest. “Not to claim the Silmarils, I’m not fool enough to try to cross you in that, but something else. Anything else that seems unattainable.”

“Do you really think the Void will be better than Death’s halls?” Caranthir demanded when he got his voice back. “It’s like fire, Fingon! Even now it’s burning me up from the inside out, and it won’t be too much longer till there’s nothing left but its call or the darkness beyond. It’s not better.”

“It might be,” Fingon said wearily, looking down at the shattered remnants of those that were once their people below. “And even if it’s not, at least the Void won’t spit me back out and send me out against whoever’s still breathing.”

Caranthir closed his eyes and tried to think. It made sense. Horrible, burning sense. It would be the highest bargain he had ever witnessed being driven, but it made sense.

“What will you swear?” he finally asked, defeat in his voice.

“To kill Death,” Fingon answered promptly. “That way either I fail and go to the Void, or succeed and don’t have a need to.”

A faint smile, the first for a while, stole across Caranthir’s lips. “To killing death,” he said, miming a mocking toast.

“To killing Death,” Fingon repeated.

The warning bell cut off anything further he might have said.

But as they raced to answer it, Caranthir saw Fingon mouthing further words, and he felt a shiver of power when his cousin finished. 

. . .

Yavanna

When Dior was a child, the forest had been green and lush and safe.

But then his grandfather had died and Grandmother had left them, and there had been no choice but to set the whole thing ablaze. He still remembered the choking smoke as they’d fled and the hideous heat. They had run as close to the fire as they dared because it was safer than the alternative.

In the charred skeletons of dead trees, there were twisted fragments of bone still visible that had once belonged to those who had not stayed close enough.

The area remained safely scorched, though, and what little had grown back flinched away from the holy light on his brow.

The caves of Doriath loomed ahead, the soilless stone promising even greater safety. 

They had fled the forest, but the forest was gone. Maybe now it would be safe to return. They said there were a thousand caves in Doriath; they could plant their gardens at the far end, pin them in with steel, and guard them with axes and fire until they were ready to sing the plants to sleep long enough to snatch their fruits.

It would be safe in there, even with Melian gone, or at least safer than being out here, always waiting for a vine to strangle you softly while you were sleeping or for roots to shoot up and drag your bleeding body into the earth so that their tress could grow lush and strong.

It would be safe, he thought, and his hand brushed the moss that had grown up on the side of the cave.

He snatched his hand back immediately. His hand still stung, small drops of blood clinging to the palm. The moss grew fat upon its own share, bulging outward, but even it shrank back from the light.

Nowhere was safe, he reminded himself, and he proceeded more slowly. Safer than most places did not have to mean particularly safe at all.

(But the stone holds. It holds steady and firm, and they lose only a few to the harvest each year until the Feanorains come.)

(When the Feanorians come, the guards’ blood flows freely into the garden, and it sends out a call to the Ents.)

(Elured and Elurin do not expect to see a forest when they flee from the caves. There was not one there last night. It is the first time they have seen full grown trees.)

(It is also the last.)