#lorindol

[thelien-art]

Of the Three Houses of the Edain; Bëor, Haleth, and Hador

I swear! This is the last time I change Bëor´s design! I am happy with him now!

[anira-naeg]

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

26 for lorindol?

26. Warm - Lorindol

or, lorindol is a Good Boy and doesn’t make me write 10 pages unlike SOME ocs i could mention 

The sun's nearly directly overhead and makes the white stone nearly blinding. Sweat trickles down your neck.  Your quiver is heavy on your back and your neck and shoulders aches from standing at attention for so long.

At any other time, the wind might dance through the parapets or stir the grasses of the plains beyond the city itself but today? 

Nothing.

Just nearly an overwhelming wall of heat.

You try to remind yourself that your shift on guard-duty is almost over, and you won't have to do it again for another week – then you can have a refreshing glass of cool water and spend your time celebrating the warmth of Gondolin's summer anyway you like.

(It doesn’t quite do the trick.)

But, you suppose, being warm is better than the cold.

A little while later, something catches your eye, and despite yourself, you smile. A swallow – the symbol of your house – darts across the sky, swirling and quick. 

Maybe the day won’t be so bad after all.

[dalliansss]

Idk if you’re taking requests for the writing prompts you reblog, but what if from the grumpy-sunshine prompts, Fingon&Maglor “do you ever stop smiling?”

PROMPTS FOR THE GRUMPY VS SUNSHINE TROPE

Maglor groaned the pit of hurt and nausea that his head currently is seems to throb under his own clammy fingers that he cards through his dark hair. The first thing he sees is the hint of light filtering from the barred windows, and he wonders why he's here, laying on what feels to be rough flooring, surrounded by the unmistakable stink of vomit. He remembers little; he and Nelyo had gone to Hithlum, a trip no Feanorian would make unless he had no other choice -- and yet, somehow, the rule didn't apply when you were Maedhros, and Maedhros did make trips to Hithlum, and sometimes Maglor found himself unwillingly dragged across the Ard-galen for a trip he didn't even want.

They stayed at Dor-lomin, at Fingon's, and there was a celebration of some import thrown in their honor by Hador Lorindol and his wife Gildis, and Maglor for the life of him, couldn't recall why such a welcoming feast would land him in a godsdamn dungeon--

Like a corpse suddenly reanimated by Gorthaur the Cruel, Maglor jolts upright, sitting up, and for half a second Feanor's second eldest curses himself. His head explodes in a fresh bout of pain, and he looks around -- yes. It is a dungeon. His blue-gray gaze lands on Fingon, Fingon -- currently laying on his side beside him, also in the dungeon. Fingon didn't look like the prince he usually is -- his goldribbon hair is half-unraveled, his festival robe rumpled beyond saving. His eyes were squinted down into slits, and he was smiling, clearly out of it.

An unnerving sight. Fingon was never known in Valinor and Beleriand for being a party person. He was one of the wallflowers; happy to stay by the sidelines if all obligatory social calls and greetings was done, whiling the hours away in idle talk with his inner circle.

Maglor groaned. Where was Nelyo? Gingerly, he stands -- and he wobbles, and he has to fling out his arms for balance, so he wouldn't topple backward or sideways and make a further fool of himself.

(What the hell did they drink last night?)

A giggle. Maglor, scowling, tries to look for the source of the giggling -- only to discover Fingon -- incapacitated, silly Fingon -- giggling on the floor.

"Do you ever stop smiling?" Maglor spits, with unintended vehemence -- but Feanor's second eldest is beyond any common courtesy today, not when his head feels swollen five times than its usual size; not when his lips and tongue and throat are drier than sandpaper, not when he doesn't know where Nelyo is, but Nelyo should be in this dungeon with them, Eru-damn it!

Fingon giggles quietly again and he rolls onto his back with a pained groan. "Stars and fireworks," Fingolfin's heir slurs, and Maglor comes to the dumb realization that Fingon was either still drunk or such was his hangover that his mind didn't quite figure out yet which was up or down, and left and right.

Maglor staggers forward until his hands close in on the bars of the cell he shares with the high prince (who was frankly not making any impressive image of himself right now). He tries to peek down the hallway. Where the hell are we?

Maglor inhales-- and yells. "NELYOOOOOOOOOOO!"

[sesamenom]

explanation of names i used for my version for those interested:

Anardil - (Q.) alternate name of Aldarion; early TA king of Gondor and son of Earendil of Gondor

Arminas - (S.) Noldo of Dorthonion, later sent as a messenger to Nargothrond

Aromez - (Valarin) Valarin name of Orome

Axantur - (Q.) son of Nolondil, great-grandson of Elros

Azaghal - (Khuzdul) Lord of Belegost who stabbed Glaurung and got a mid-battle funeral

Azrubel - (Adunaic) Adunaic name of Earendil

Bodruith - (Gnomish) BoLT Lord of Belegost who tried to steal the Nauglamir

Colpegn - (OE) Old English name of Caranthir

Cynegrim - (OE) Old English name of Celegorm

Enedrion - (Noldorin) early name of Edrahil

Erellont - (S.) mariner companion of Earendil

Ferumbras - (English, from French) first name of three Tooks, derived from Ferumbras (Fierabras, from fier à bras) of the legends of Roland

Incanus - (Q., Easterling) alternate name of Gandalf

Indilzar - (Adunaic) early Adunaic name of Elros, later changed to Gimilzor

Kuvion - (Q.) BoLT elf hiding on the Moon and caring for the rose of Telperion, sometimes called the Man in the Moon

Lenwe - (Q.) first leader of the Nandor

Lorindol - (S.) alternate name of Hador

Marhari - (Rohirric) mid TA Lord of the Northmen, descendant of Vidugavia and ancestor of the Rohirrim

Odovacar - (English, from Germanic) father of Fredegar Bolger, derived from Roman king Odoacer of unidentified Germanic origins

Rumil - (Q.) inventor of the Sarati; brother of Haldir and Orophin

Scatha - (Rohirric, from OE) wingless dragon of the Grey Mountains and original owner of the Horn of the Mark

Ufedhin - (Gnomish) BoLT elf who initiated the dwarven sack of Menegroth and tried to steal the Nauglamir

Vardamir - (Q.) second king of Numenor and eldest son of Elros

Veantur - (Q.) naval captain of early Numenor and grandfather of Aldarion

Vidumavi - (Rohirric) daughter of Vidugavia

Holy shit… please…take this quiz…

[elennalore]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë/Hador Lórindol Characters: Hador Lórindol, Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Írimë | Lalwen Additional Tags: Prompt Fill, Silm Kinkmeme, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fealty Kink, Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, bottom!Fingolfin, Explicit Sexual Content, Beleriand Summary:

“Now Hador Lórindol… entered the household of Fingolfin in his youth, and was loved by the King.��� - The Silmarillion, ch. 17

Hador Lórindol is there to help his liege to relieve some stress.

[arofili]

three houses of the edain ❂ house of hador ❂ headcanon disclaimer

          Hador was the son of Hathol, and became the first Lord of Dor-lómin. Unlike his father and grandfather, Hador loved the elves and entered into the service of High King Fingolfin of the Noldor, swiftly becoming beloved of the king as had his ancestor Malach Aradan before him. Such was Hador’s devotion to his liege that Fingolfin gave him both the name Lórindol for his golden hair and a fiefdom in Dor-lómin, where his eldest son Fingon dwelt also. In honor of his ennoblement, Fingon gifted Hador with a mighty helm crafted by the dwarves, bearing a design of Glaurung the Golden and enchanted to protect its wearer and strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Its strength and heaviness was such that few could wear it, but Hador was a powerful man who could bear its weight, and in his honor the helm was called the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin and the Helm of Hador, becoming an heirloom that only the mightiest of his line could wear.          Hador was so great a warrior and so impressive a leader that his people were glad to follow him to their new land. His wife, Gildis, was a linguist eager to study the tongues of the elves, and was the first to propose that the House of Marach be renamed the House of Hador for her husband’s bravery and charismatic leadership.           Gildis bore Hador three children: a daughter, Glóredhel, and two sons, Galdor and Gundor. Hador encouraged his children to foster friendships with the Haladin of Brethil, eventually leading to a great feast celebrating the union of the two Houses when Galdor and Glóredhel each wed children of the Chieftain of the House of Haleth. Gundor married a woman of his own House, and was still young when he and his father both perished in the Dagor Bragollach, defending Eithel Sirion alongside Fingolfin their king.

[polutrope]

Also Hador "and he was loved by the king" Lorindol and Fingolfin.

Disclaimer: Any missing options is due to the poll limitation. I tried to select a variety of people and relationships, because Finrod's and Túrin's relationships alone could fill the poll…

[the-lefuet-blog]

Hador and Gildis, his future wife. Spring in Dor-Lomin.

[oopsbirdficced]

@elsilmarillionno asked: Now, properly: the saga of Fingolfin and Hador continues with 17. I think it is an awesome ship like Fifi/Beor. Anyway, like last time, might not be a ship and still be awesome. Thaaaanks.

I'm sorry I'm doing this out of order! But the bunny bit for this one and I just had to get it out before it ran away again.

--

(your bed after traveling)

Hador is worn and travel-stained when Fingolfin welcomes him back into his halls. He is glad to see his friend, and even gladder still to see a bath. He bathes, ruminating on what he has learned on his travels, and he thinks still when he slips into his quarters to find Fingolfin sat at a small table, with a bottle of wine and two cups, reading a book. Hador, clad in a fresh shirt and wool leggings, sits on the edge of the bed with a soft groan if relief.

Fingolfin smiles at him, a welcome sight on a face more often lined with stress. He pours Hador a cup and brings it to him, and Hador is stricken with confused realization. Fingolfin catches the shift in his mood and cocks his head to the side, like a bird.

“Something troubles you, dear Hador. I would have you be out with it, that I might try and ease your burden.” He says in his sweet, low voice. Hador desperately wishes Gildis were here. She's good at helping him find his words.

“I've noticed many more people calling me Elf-Friend, which I understand.” He says slowly, and bless him, Fingolfin waits attentively for him to finish his thought. “And an equal number of folk are calling me beloved of your house. It's that part I'm not sure I understand properly. Not with some of the looks your people give me when they think I'm not paying attention.” He breathes out a sigh. Fingolfin frowns.

“If my people are troubling you, I can…” he trails off, clearly unsure of what he might actually be able to do. You can't stop people from thinking, even as a tyrant, and Fingolfin is no tyrant. Hador laughs, a touch rusty, and drinks deeply of his wine.

“It's not that. Their scandalized looks are almost amusing at times. But it comes to my attention that we might not have the same meaning in mind when we think of the word ‘beloved’.” He peers over at Fingolfin shrewdly.

“What does it mean to you, then?” Fingolfin asks placidly.

“It can be used to mean dear, as in a dear or close friend. Or it can be close to the heart, as in a wife or a lover.” Oh, he's finished all his wine. That's annoying. “It's just that I have the sneaking suspicion that you and your folk are using the latter definition for your regard towards me.” He says heavily, concerned that this will affect their friendship.

“You would be right,” Fingolfin replies with that same damnable serenity. Hador frowns.

“But you're married. I'm married.” He says by way of protest. Fingolfin raises an eyebrow.

“I'm not saying I wish to lie with you. I respect my wife and yours too much to do that. But elves can love more than once, despite that one rumor still making the rounds. We love deeply, and it does not fade, once we have given someone our devotion. Something, I believe, that got lost in translation.” He says smoothly. Hador jumps to his feet.

“But Fingolfin, I am already three and thirty! If you say this love does not wane… I've half my lifetime spent already! And I know the souls of men do not go the same place as your souls in death. I would not wish pain like that upon my worst enemy, let alone you, my dearest friend.” he sags back to the bed, and stares at Finfgolfin, completely unruffled. “Do you not care that my life will be spent in the blink of your eyes?” His luminous, ancient eyes soften.

“The time I have spent with you will be all the more precious for its brevity, beloved Hador.” Fingolfin murmurs, setting his cup down and coming to sit on the bed beside Hador, embracing him. Hador clutches him in return, as best he can with only one free hand, and something within him rails at the injustice of his own short life.

Presently, Fingolfin releases him, and collects the cup from his hand, returning it to the table.

“Rest, beloved Hador. The road has made you over-weary, I fear.” He murmurs, and is gone like he is the ephemeral one.

[dor-lomin]

Mm…Hador was 15 when he first met Ñolofinwë right? Early morning of Mithrim!Yeah!

[the-heart-vigor]

"You are welcome, son. But I am sure you are so much better than you think. I have seen you fighting and you are a great warrior. You are just Hador Lorindol, my granfather."

"You don't need to dig into my past; some things are better left buried."

"And you do not need to forget. Pain brings wisdom to people. And you need to remember everything in order to become stronger."

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

there's an art (feather, celebros ft. lorindol)

birds are lorindol's hyperfixation what of it

Lindon is filled with birds – seabirds, falcons, songbirds – that you can hardly name them all, and Lorindol is thrilled by this. He tells you about them all, and you listen, fascinated.

You never thought that you would find birds so interesting and yet, here you are, listening as you spin your clay on your wheel to make a pot for someone who commissioned you.

Of course, birds are not the only things you and Lorindol talk about, but they are what drew you together -- you still remember being on patrol in Sirion, and Lorindol pointing out a bird you recognized the song of from Nargothrond but didn't know the name -- and they are special for that.

So, one year for his begetting day, you find a metalworker and commission two matching cardinal feather cloak clasps -- cardinals had been the bird you didn't know, after all and it seemed fitting.

You are nervous, before giving it to him, but the moment he unwraps them, his face lights up brighter than the Sun, and brighter than Laurelin in the mingling, and you know you made the right choice.

[silmarillionno]

Fingolfin and Hador

Concept: Nolo is a very bad artist, but is triying to draw Hador naked, with the dragon -helm on his blond curls.

[jaybeeart-vardathebeloved]

Hador Lórindol

[dalliansss]

You know what, you right. Over the course of his long life, Fingon bought and/or made many 'reaching sticks' and commissioned 'reaching tongs' and many of which he bought over to Beleriand so he can reach for stuff. Vorosanya is busy and can't be expected to reach for stuff all the time.

Hador Lorindol was particularly helpful! Also Argon, bless him. Turu was a prick and it depended on his mood if he wanted to help his hanno.

Egg though is happy to be Fingon's forever assistant in reaching for stuff. Godsdamn big elf that he became.

Fingon 🐅🦄

Unusual Headcanons Ask Game!

🐅 - Characterization: character habits, personality, etc.

Prim and proper.Fingon was raised by Nolofinwe and Anaire under a very strict and formal household, and so he grew up not like his cousins Maedhros and Finrod. He is usually a stickler to rules, protocol and etiquette, every bit a prince in his demeanor. Emotions are kept tightly under wraps, and even with his immediate family, he has a palpable formal distance with them, which meant Turgon and Aredhel grew up not quite close to him, as they both deemed him often unapprocheable. He was especially close with Argon, and when Argon died, Fingon was the most devastated. Argon to him was how Aegnor was to Finrod.

As a young elf, he had trouble learning under classic instructional methods. He had little to no close friends, at least until the time came when Feanaro accommodated him during summers in an attempt to teach him. Under Feanaro and Nerdanel's schooling, he began to blossom in skill and learning.

Yet, compared to Maedhros and Finrod, he was not as academically inclined. He had a few Loremasteries under his name, but Fingon preferred to serve in Finwe's royal court, unlike his two other cousins who equally divided their time and mind in many, varied pursuits. Of Finwe's eldest three grandchildren, he is considered the boring one.

Like a classic aristocrat, he can play the long game. He isn't above schemes and manipulation to get what he wants, though he has little enemies and sought ever to keep harmony at the Noldorin court. However in Beleriand, Fingolfin's long kingship and lax policies gave him difficulty when it was his turn to wear the crown. By then, Maedhros and Finrod had gotten away with much, and Hithlum was lagging behind politically and economically, virtually at the mercy of Nargothrond and Thargelion in economic matters. It was too late for him to do anything then, as Maedhros and Finrod subtly prevented him from exercising any influence more than they deemed necessary over their own sovereignties.

🦄 - Characters’ physical appearance.

Fingon is the third shortest in the House of Finwe. In his family he is the shortest of the lot. He is small, a bit round in the middle, compact. His lack of reach he makes up for with excellent archery and speed in combat. He also resembles Finwë the most, from their lustrous black hair up to their dimpled smiles. He has gray-blue eyes. He wears his gold ribbons to distinguish himself from other Noldor and from his kingly grandfather. Without his braids, Fingon has thick black curls of hair that hangs to his bottom. His complexion is pale.