#in red is mae and Gil-galad

[myceliumelium]

Maedhros has cared for a great many children through out his long life, some with more success than others. Rip elured and elurin

[inthehouseoffinwe]

I have this hc that Sauron’s obsession with vanity led him to spend years studying Maedhros’ features and trying to emulate them. When he couldn’t get it right, the proportions always a little off, red hair never deep enough, he took his anger out on Mae and when that option was gone, tried to pull from others also renown for their beauty instead.

Fast forward a few centuries and turns out all that work wasn’t entirely useless. And Sauron knows exactly what to do with the features he was able to recreate. Weaving them into his new face, the line of Maitimo’s smile, the set of his eyebrows, the crease of his eyes, he puts just enough to be familiar, but not enough to set off any alarms.

Celebrimbor doesn’t know *why* he trusts Annatar so easily, just that he’s got a good feeling about him. The Maia reminds him of someone he can’t quite put a finger on, but it’s a good association and he doesn’t think on it too deeply. Grows to call him a brother in all but blood.

Of course we all know how that ends. And the last thing Celebrimbor sees is his eldest Uncle’s smile, a mockery of the warmth it should hold as Sauron finally ends his torture.

(Elrond, on the other hand, never saw Maitimo who used to laugh easily and play silly games with children. Only grim Maedhros. The gentle features Sauron steals are alien to him. A stranger with too many familiar features he can’t quite place, twisted the wrong way, leaving him deeply unsettled. It’s why he immediately tells Gil Galad to send Annatar away, hiding trembling hands in his sleeves.)

[maedhrosiseverything2me]

Y/N: Mae, you are the most jealous elf I know.

Maedhros:*graps y/n face and looks in her eyes seriously* you know other elves?!

Y/N: yeah, like ten or more Idk I've lost count of them-

Y/N: oh wait why is your eye twitching?!!

Maedhros: WHO. ARE. THEY??!

Y/N,counting on her fingers completely unaware of the red giant elf who is gonna lose his shit any moment : hmm well there is Glorfindel, Thranduil, Rog, Erestor, Celebrimbor, Feanor-

Maedhros: MY FCKING NEPHEW AND FATHER ALSO-

Y/N: Yes! now be quiet and let me continue.... Elrond, Gil galad, Ecthelion, Celegorm, oh and also my golden baby Nuada:).

Y/N: there is more but I'll stop here.

Maedhros:

Y/N: babe, are you crying?!!!!

Maedhros:*turns his face*NO!

Y/N:*chuckle, hugs him* it's ok, don't worry you are my number one favorite elf.

Maedhros:*clinging to her**sniff* you are lucky I love you so much you little sh!t.

[captainadwen]

Whatever happened to Mae reverted his temporal-state to that of a kid. it’s irreversible, as far as any of the house of Finwe’s members and healers can tell (once they manage to re-establish contact). surviving the bragollach is probably overall harder, without Mae’s deeds of great valor (rip, Azaghal). Popular wisdom is that Maedhros alone of Feanor’s sons fell in the Bragollach, trying to hold the front. It is bad for morale and makes Fingolfin unhappier, and so it is High King Fingon that gets hush-hush told about what actually happened to Maedhros

- Fingon has to deal with trying to hold the Noldor together without his best friend and close, powerful ally. Maglor is a good commander, but he can’t make up for the hole Mae leaves. On the other hand, a tiny little version of Maedhros of the likes he had never seen before (on account of either being a baby or not yet born when Mae was last this age) is a pretty okay distraction

- The world’s pissiest custody battles ensue. No one can deny that Mae is a Feanorian, but also calling him ‘Maedhros’ was out of the question now, as was Maitimo, and definitely not Nelyafinwe, and the closest they get to anything is Artanaro/Rodnor, and oops, his eyes shine like stars not the trees don’t be ridiculous. Also, isn’t Barad Etheid a much better place for a child to be in compared to Himring?

- Most of the soldiers of Himring know what’s up. They would rather die than explain why they are loyal to a tiny child. There are rumors he is Maedhros’ child, but no one can produce a mother to prove them.

- Mae ends up at Barad Etheid, when the travel ways are made a bit safe again. The Ereinion Gil-Galad persona is born here. Maedhros’ sindarin gains a distinctly Nolofinwian tint.

- Finrod is called on account of being good at magic. He also cannot figure things out. It is pointed out that Barad Etheid is also like, basically the frontlines now. An argument ensues. Fingon argues that if they send Mae-Galad to Nargothrond they might as well just send him all the way to Cirdan, where he will be safest. Belatedly, they all realize this is actually a good idea, because a lot of the Noldor are starting to ask pointed questions about whether Fingon had a red-headed wife

- Honestly, there are probably more kingdoms the Noldor lost than the ones they hold. The Feanorians probably can’t make any arguments whatsover to keep mae around, which makes them bitter on principle. Maglor is head of the house again, but no one is really happy with this (definitely not Maglor, who would 1. like his big brother back 2. if that is not possible, at least have the tiny big brother in his care).

- without mae around, there is no union of anyone, and therefore no nirnaeth. this probably doesn’t improve the situation, since the flipside is a less united noldor and also the loss of a good warlord.

- fingon and barad etheid survive longer than in canon, but doubtfully long enough to see the war of the wrath

- that said, the beren and luthien story probably happens exactly the same. maybe there is some question of whether the silmaril can help restore maedhros as he once was - but between celegorm and curufin’s actions and the first kinslaying still around

... or not, because other fun changes might happen but:

- as Mae grows, he slowly starts regaining memories. However, as dear pearl calculated, he could arguably be 2700+ years old by the Bragollach, so his full regaining memories takes thousands of years. by the time annatar appears he has started to remember the initial unrest of the noldor, and is suspicious of this guy that acts a lot like Nice Personal Melkor

- he still dies of fire

was reading sweetteaanddragons’ bad timing au and in line with the recent thoughts about funny gil-galad origins it got me thinking…

Mae-Galad

[jockbots]

uhhh some mae, fin and gil bc i rly want to write a getting the family back together fic but life is actually madness atm and haven't looked at a pencil

[avantegarda]

i have decided to go ahead and make a long post about elrond's feelings towards his parents because i feel like it's a very complex situation and changes a lot over time? i like both elwing/earendil and the feanorians a lot, so hopefully this will be fairly nuanced and not make anyone Red With Rage.

Childhood:

No point in mincing words: I think when Elrond was very young he felt a lot of resentment towards his parents (edit: or at least earendil, depending on whether elrond knew what happened to elwing). Of course Earendil and Elwing had good reasons for sailing away/birdifying respectively, but those reasons are hard for a six-year-old to comprehend. Unfortunately, to tiny Elrond, it just seemed like abandonment. Maedhros and Maglor were criminals, and often terrifying, but they were also there. Is it any wonder Elrond started to see them as family?

(It should be noted that Mae and Mags genuinely did try their best to be good dads to the kids, particularly by emphasizing NO OATHS whenever possible)

Adolescence:

Even Elrond had his edgy-teenager phase, and this manifested itself strongly when he and Elros were taken in by Gil-Galad. People would tell him how lucky he was to have escaped those horrible kinslayers, and he would tell them to shut their damn mouths because those horrible kinslayers raised him and where the hell were his birth parents, anyway? Not around.

That said, he also became very close to Gil-Galad around this time and was able to learn a bit about his birth parents (Gil having met Earendil and the family a few times, and having been very fond of them) and started to realize that perhaps he'd judged his family too harshly.

Young Adulthood:

I think Elrond went through a phase, though I'm not sure how long, of genuinely resenting the Feanorians for all the chaos and bloodshed they caused and how this caused his mother's disappearance. All perfectly understandable emotions. Underneath it all, though, he still missed them--and was often ashamed of himself for this.

During this time he was also extremely homesick for Elwing and Earendil and thought a lot about the few, vague childhood memories he had of them. Like the time Earendil tried to give him a pet lobster, and the bedtime stories Elwing would tell.

Adulthood:

After living through goodness knows how many battles, and getting married and becoming a dad, Elrond reached a point where he was able to reconcile his feelings towards both sets of parents. He didn't know Earendil and Elwing well, but he knew they were good people who loved their kids and didn't really want to leave-- circumstances just forced it. He also knew that Maedhros and Maglor had done their best to be good parents despite the weight of the oath (and all the crimes) and didn't beat himself up for loving them. And of course whenever Mags showed up to Rivendell, looking like a feral hobo, he was welcomed with open arms. That's how we treat family in Imladris.

[amethysttribble]

The Fuse of Regret

@feanorianweek Entry 1: Maedhros (Childhood)

Gil-galad remembers his childhood with his fathers very differently than everyone else seems to. Primarily because he remembers there being two fathers.

I’m doing another theme this year, this one being: Six AUs wherein Gil-galad was a grandson of Feanor, and one where he wasn’t. 

Fair Warning for this first one, it can easily be retitled ‘everyone (including Mae) gaslights Gil for 2000 words’. All hurt, no comfort. Forgive Maedhros. His self-loathing is very strong and he thinks its for his son’s own good.

Officially, the last time Ereinion Gil-galad ever spoke to Maedhros, son of Feanor, was when he was still just a boy, shortly before the death of his father. It was when said father, King Fingon the Valiant, son of Fingolfin, and the Lord of Himring were still long in the planning of what would be called the Union of Maedhros.

According to those official tales, during this last meeting, it was less of a conversation and more a symbolic showing of the young prince. Maedhros, son of Feanor, kissed young Ereinion’s hand, and called him, “Your Highness”, and reaffirmed him as heir to all the Noldor.

Then, the prince was given back to his nannies, or perhaps his mother, who must be somewhere in this tale but never seemed to appear, and the grim, grisly form of Maedhros, son of Feanor, stalked away besides the fair, bright form of King Fingon. They returned to their negotiations.

Prince Ereinion, soon King Gil-galad, would never have reason to see the kinslayer again, and therefore did not.

This story was, of course, largely untrue while holding a grain of truth.

As Gil-galad remembered it, Maedhros, father of Ereinion, kissed him on the forehead and called him “my dear,” and reaffirmed that he would be allowed to sleep in the bed beside him and Atya that night. In the morning they would take breakfast, and there would be many more meetings after that, before Maedhros left them again.

The only difference between that visit and many others before it was that Maedhros never came back and then Father died.

It was true, of course, that Gil-galad had not met with Maedhros since that time, but less because he had no reason to see him- Ereinion had many, many reasons- and more because of circumstances and blatant avoidance. He was half convinced it had taken Maedhros so long to return Earendil and Elwing’s little boys because he was avoiding his own son. But now the peredhel twins had been returned, and Ereinion had him.

The night was already late when he left their camp with but one attendant, but he was determined now. And he knew how to find Maedhros. Ereinion knew his movements better than anyone living.

At least, he liked to think that. 

As he rode out into the wilds searching for his father, Ereinion thought of the long, lonely nights spent upon Balar, reading the few letters he still had from Maedhros and the one letter in his possession from Father. 

And when he’d read the letters so thoroughly and so often he knew every word and he’d begun to weather and tear the paper, he asked Cirdan for the letters written to the Lord of Balar from Maedhros and Fingon. And when all those letters were expended, Ereinion studied the speeches and battle-plans and treaties they made, hoping to catch some glimpse of the happy childhood he remembered but seemed to feel more like fantasy and fiction by the second.

He needed this. Ereinion knew his attendants and friends would be angry at him for leaving in the middle of the night, for endangering himself, but they didn’t understand. He needed this. So pervasive had the thoughts and theories of other people become, so upsetting had the evidence against the kinslayer become, Ereinion… He no longer trusted his own memory and that frightened him.

He wanted answers from Maedhros himself.

The red flags were easily distinguishable even in torch and starlight. They snapped in the warm, harsh wind, the golden threads of their rayed star glittering faintly. Ereinion’s own sigil flapped beside him, held aloft by the herald he brought, blue and silver. 

The people of the Feanorion host saw him from leagues away and greeted him stoically. He rode unmolested, though, into their pathetic little camp, harried only by their harsh stares, thin faces, and the occasional lob of spit at his horses feet. Maedhros and Maglor both were waiting for him when he reached the main tent.

Ereinion had met only two of Maedhros’s brothers, Caranthir only in passing, and he could scarcely say he knew Maglor better. And yet, his conflicted gaze and shallow bow- he couldn’t tell if the gesture was mocking or sincere- was a warmer greeting than what he received from Maedhros.

He was stone, unmoving, unfeeling. 

“Hail, Maedhros, son of Feanor,” Gil-galad said, and he feared he was unspeaking as well. Until-

“To think,” Maedhros said, voice flatter than any plain, “we have just lost out hostages and the King Gil-galad seeks to deliver us two more. Henceforth, never let the High King’s generosity be questioned again.”

There was a smattering of laughter, a few scrapes of steel being unsheathed, but notably Maglor neither laughed nor moved. 

Gil-galad just tilted his nose up.

“I would speak with you, Maedhros, son of Feanor. Unless you would refuse me.”

In front of all your people. Refuse me in front of all of them. Deny your chance to negotiate with and swindle the young, fool son of your friend. Deny your chance for food, deny your chance to negotiate to fight.

Ereinion wouldn’t be surprised if these obviously starving people were hungrier for battle than food. They would want a parlay, if only to be allowed back into war meetings.

But Maedhros was a coward and he tried to deny him anyway.

“What possibly do we have to speak of?”

Ereinion smiled, and he knew it was a sweet looking expression though it tasted very bitter behind his teeth. 

“The unsettled accounts of my late father.”

That set their observers whispering, made Maglor give his brother a sharp look. Still, Maedhros resisted for a moment. Then, he gave a nod.

“Well,” he said, holding out an arm to gesture towards the tent. Gil-galad dismounted. “Far be it for me to deny a request from the son of an old friend.”

But it would not be far for you to deny a king, Gil-galad thought as the people jeered behind him. He was almost worried for his herald as he passed under the tent flap. But no. Maglor did not follow them. He would keep the people tame.

There was one lone torch lit in the first room of the tent. It barely illuminated the table, and highlighted all the marks on it. As Maedhros busied himself clinking around with some glasses and drink, Ereinion ran his fingers over the wood grain. Somehow had carved a small depiction of a dog here, at a seat far from the end. Ambarussa, perhaps.

The shifting shadows were the only thing that alerted Ereinion when Maedhros turned to face him. A glass was help out for him, and he couldn’t even see what it was in the dark. Ereinion took the drink- reaching across the table- and sipped it anyway.

Whiskey.

Maedhros was throwing back the whole glass.

Wasn’t a son’s first drink with father supposed to be more special than this?

“Well, boy?” Maedhros said when he came up for air, already turning away to pour another. “What are you here for?”

Ereinion waited until Maedhros looked at him again, leveling those treelight silver eyes on him. He’d been so jealous as a child about how Maedhros and Father’s eyes were the same, ethereal and bright and greater than he ever could be. This creature before him did not look great.

There was a new scar on Maedhros’s cheek. Where did he get it? Doriath or Sirion.

Ereinion’s hand tightened arrow d his glass.

“They were my friends, did you know that?” he said quietly, nearly whispering it at first, but voice growing louder with each word. “Did you know that? That they were my friends, Eanredil and Elwing, my friends! She was my fucking friend! Did you know that?”

Maedhros said nothing.

“If you did, would it have changed anything?” Ereinion hissed, already knowing the answer. When Maedhros kept staring at him impassively, he made an impulsive move and clacked the glass against his teeth. The whiskey burned on the way down and his mouth was vibrating from the impact. It wasn’t enough.

With a ragged breath, Ereinion held out the glass for more.

Maedhros silently made him another drink.

When he was handed more whiskey, their fingers touched briefly, and Ereinion thought little of it as he started downing his drink again, but he saw Maedhros shudder.

When Ereinion slammed the glass onto the table, over that little craved dog, Maedhros shuddered, then finally said, “Is that all you-“

“Father.”

Maedhros looked like someone had slapped and was just as angry as that insult would suggest. His glare was like white fire and it didn’t frighten Ereinion a bit. Nothing was more frightening than the night he realized Maedhros wasn’t coming to bring him home.

The night Gil-galad realized he was an orphan now.

“Does that word mean anything to you?” he hissed. “I call you ‘Father’ because I am your son, or do you deny that?”

“Be careful how you tread, son of Fingon.”

Ereinion scoffed and said, “Oh, I am very careful. ‘Son of Fingon’ you call me, like a curse. Or maybe not, a blessing. A release from bondage. I’ll not bloody hear it from you. I’ve had enough courtiers in my ears trying to tell me who and what I am, when I know. I was there. You and I are now the only ones who were there, and you dare tell me I’m wrong, Father?”

Even around the deep shadows and the scars and the lines of exhaustion, Ereinion could see every movement as Maedhros’s lips formed the words, “You’re wrong.”

“Bullshit!”

Ereinion slammed his hands down. This time, the table shuddered. He was breathing hard.

“Who was it then!” he shouted, “Who was it who picked me up from the rug and brought me to bed! Who guided my fingers through learning Tengwar! Who sang bass to Father’s tenor, and brought me the most finely crafted toys, and kissed me so mournfully every time he had to leave again!”

“I was your father’s friend,” Maedhros said, words very slow and very carefully enunciated, like lines from a script. At least, that’s how Ereinion wanted to think of them- lines, acted lines- as Maedhros stabbed knives into his chest. “A dear friend, and you my friend’s son. Of course I brought gifts and taught you what I could. Of course I paid you some love, Gil-galad-“

“Don’t call me by that name!”

There were tears pricking his eyes, now, and Valar, he didn’t know if he needed more or less whiskey.

“That is my name,” Ereinion cried, “my name, given to me by friends and guardians, that I took on as my mantle when I assumed the throne you abandoned me on. That is my name. Call me by your name, the father-name. The two of you only gave me one, but gave it together. Son of kings. Call me Ereinion because you are my father.”

Maedhros watched him silently for a long time, and then very carefully set down his own glass. His hand was shaking. Ereinion saw it, even in the low-light, he saw how his hand shook and sloshed the whiskey before he set it on the table. He held onto that one sign like a life-line.

But then Maedhros cut him down with the same brutal efficiency as he did everything else.

“Gil-galad.”

Ereinion felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He doubled over the table in pain, ended up face-to-face with his empty glass. For a second, it occurred to him to throw it at Maedhros’s face.

But no. He had his father’s temper but never Fingon’s temper, which had been slow to come but hot when it arrived. There had been a few terrible evenings in Ereinion’s childhood where things were thrown, not at but certainly near Maedhros. 

Maedhros never responded in kind, and that had always been the worst blow for Fingon.

Gil-galad had his father’s temper.

He stood up straight, towing with the rim of the glass, spinning it. Then he looked up at Maedhros as sneered.

“I see,” Gil-galad said, keeping his voice as calm and kingly as possible, drawing upon all those lessons he got just from watching the two of them. “You have become a fey creature indeed, to not even recognize your own progeny.”

Maedhros let out a stuttering breath and that felt good. But Gil-galad wasn’t done.

“If my father could see you now,” he hissed softly, “he would weep. Now, today, he would give you the pity that he denied you on that mountain, and he would put us all out of your misery. I will not waste your time any longer, my lord.”

Gil-galad left and Maedhros did nothing. There was no move to stop him, no last call to his back, nothing. Nothing except the clink of more whiskey being poured.

This would be the last meeting between King Ereinion Gil-galad and Maedhros, son of Feanor.

[sorrowssinger]

@elentelume I know you’ve been feeling a little down, so I thought I’d write a little reunion fic where Mae survives and they go back to find Elen for you.

Two ellon stood looking out at the thriving city of Lindon. One sighed shaking his head, having to pause to brush some of his vibrant red hair out of his face,  before turning to look at the other. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive us for leaving him, Cana?” “I’m certain he will forgive you.” Cana replied warmly. A soft huff of disbelief was his response for his words. “What do you mean?” “Simple, no one has ever been able to stay mad at you. Not even the harshest of our Uncle’s people.” he laughed softly touching the redhead’s wrist. Giving it an affectionate squeeze he tilted his head towards the city. “Come on now, if we don’t try now we’ll never know.” “I wish that I had your optimism sometimes...” The redhead sighed shaking his head, a fond smile curling his lips upward. “Very well. Let us go and find out how terribly irate our foster son is now.” “Well, Nelyo, we don’t have to worry about one thing...” at the curious look he received Cana grinned mischievously. “No one knows if we’re alive or not so he can’t blame us for the rumors~” Nelyo laughed at the playful comment and wrapped his arm around his brother. “You are horrible~” Laughing softly the two of them made their way to the city. Once there they carefully made their way to the palace doing their best to remain unnoticed. They slipped past the guards with the ease of long practice and settled in the High-King’s office to wait for him or his herald to return. It wasn’t long before Gil-Galad entered the room. He took one look at them then turned around and asked one of the guards that were following him to go get Elrond. As the guard left to find the half-elf Gil-Galad shut the door and sat behind his desk. “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” “No, not really.” Nelyo replied honestly getting a sharp look from Gil-Galad. The other ellon buried his face in his hands and shook with laughter. Before anything more could be said though the door opened again and Elrond walked in looking at some papers in his hands. “Elrond, you have some guests here.” “Guests? Who-” He looked up and stopped mid-sentence. Nelyo stood and turned to face him. “Hello Elvëo.” Nelyo said gently.

[theelfmaiden]

Tagged by @themiddleearthworldoftolkien! Bless you... :D

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