#m; curufin

[sesamenom]

meet again at the end of time

(aka: C&C finally get their own pet edain)

some background:

(for those not following the braywashed saga) the two guys in the middle are (real, entirely human) wrestlers Elton Prince & Kit Wilson of Pretty Deadly, introduced to the silm fandom by @kitwilsonsass, and known for their uncanny resemblance to C&C in both appearance and demeanor.

As Arda is Earth, the Dagorath has not yet happened, and PD are human people who exist, it is entirely canon compliant for them to join C&C in the dagorath. Hence, CCPD alliance.

design notes:

CC

Celegorm's tattoos represent a symbol of devotion to Orome/the Hunt by imitating Orome's vala markings. Given that bows aren't the best weapon for melee fights, his primary weapon here is based on a boar spear, because I imagine similar tactics would be helpful against some of Morgoth's larger creatures. He wears the Feanorian star once on his armband and once painted on his shield (not shown).

Curufin's helm is based off the Silm description of the red-plumed helms of the Host of Feanor. His armor features one Feanorian star and the Trees (telperion not shown), and his shield bears one other star. He wears a dwarven knife (not Angrist since beren broke it) on his belt.

PD

Based on braywashed's assortment of PD outfit posts, they seem to have a light/dark color scheme, reflected here in their armor colors. Their hairstyles are based on what seems like their irl/interview-hair (aka practical hairstyle, because as unnaturally elven as they are they sadly do not have magical hair) (x). Elto's pink arrow fletchings and Kitto's blue mesh cape refer to the pink/blue matching outfit (x), while Elto's bow/quiver harness and both of their shirt colors reference the harness outfit.

Their weapons follow the opposite color scheme as their armor for contrast purposes, and weapon types (double rapiers + bow, double daggers) are based on braywashed's post here.

Both of PD's armor designs draw influence from c. 15th century English armor, seeing as they are British people, and feature a unique half-breastplate evocative of the extremely cropped sleeve shirt things they normally wear when wrestling.

edit: uploaded the wrong version (no tattoos) at first oops

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Vote on sister polls:

Tyelcormo vs Curufinwë vs Þauron

Tyelcormo vs Curufinwë vs Moringoþo

Tyelcormo vs Curufinwë vs Eöl

Þauron vs Moringoþo vs Eöl

Þauron vs Moringoþo vs Tyelcormo

[melpomaen]

I love C+Cing the WWElves but I do think we are underutilizing using Pretty Deadly jpegs like dolls to meme Beleg & Mablung

Hear me out: Beleg and Mablung in PD costumes series but in Beleg is still always in his red ass shoes. Do you see my vision?

[sauron-kraut]

Summary: In Menegroth, at the end of all things, Celegorm reminisces.

Finished this while I'm coughing my lungs out. Another short ficlet to keep the juices flowing (quite literally).

Not beta'd!

Warnings: major character death, blood and injury, LOTS of blood, sexual content, sibling inc*st

Post got hidden immediately after I published it last time, so let's try again.

Blood is most familiar to Celegorm. Essence of life while flowing hidden beneath skin and fat. When gushing freely a herald of death. Blood has always been his constant companion. Like a lover he embraces it.

He looks down at his hands and they are covered in it and they are shaking. And Celegorm recalls.

Then, there had been blood drawn by lust. His brother’s lip bitten in raw passion, warm coppery fluid coating Celegorm’s tongue. The depravity of frenzied coupling, too rough, too hasty, and ensuing drops of red.

First, there had been blood drawn by lust and by death. The thrill of the hunt, the excitement of following the Valaróma’s call in a world young and wide and full of promises. 

The smell of iron and a life taken.

Now, all that is left is blood drawn by death. Celegorm had been able to catch a glimpse of Curufin, his brother’s twitching hand clawing at nothing, fingers raking through a crimson pool languidly widening across the floor, eyes empty. His beautiful, cunning brother.

Celegorm looks down at his hands again, drenched in red. So much red. He is not sure, cannot remember whose it is. Are his hands stained with his brother’s blood? The enemy’s? For enemies they are, claiming the Silmaril. They must be.

Celegorm’s vision blurs. Warm liquid is soaking his shirt and more is coming and he clutches the fabric over his abdomen. The blood on his hands is his own.

[fuckingfinwions]

How do the Nolofinweans relate to the now-concubine and maybe-future-concubine Curufin and Celebrimbor?

Awkwardly.

Curufin spent the first week after Feanor’s death naked, blindfolded, and tied to Maedhros’s bed. Maedhros did a lot of breaking him in himself, but the coronation of a new king takes a lot of planning and meetings with council members and such. So the Nolofinweans got the chore of “switch out the plug in his ass for one that’s a different shape every hour so he doesn’t get used to it, I use him after lunch.” And given the degrading stuff Curufin has put them through, they’re willing if still not eager.

Once Curufin has been sufficiently trained he moves in with the other concubines. Nolo’s rooms are four small bedrooms around a central living room, which means with Turgon and Arehdel gone Curufin and Celebrimbor can move right in. This is for Maedhros’s convenience.

Nolo and Fingon are aware that none of this is Celebrimbor’s fault, but there’s nothing they can do about it. It’s Nolo rather Curufin who reassures him that everyone’s too terrified of the king to hurt him without permission. That would not have occurred to Curufin as a pleasant thought, but Nolo has raised three children under these circumstances.

When Celebrimbor is almost of age, Curuifn knocks on Nolo’s bedroom door. For parenting advice when your kid is about to get raped and you’re not going to save them.

[thelordofgifs]

Part 17 - featuring Conversations and also Scheming!

Just as the Elves of Himring rush to the aid of their beleaguered companions, the Sun rises.

Between the appearance of the detested light and the sudden attack, the orcs are taken by surprise, beaten back towards the north.

Fingon cuts a swathe through them until he reaches Maedhros' side at the base of the hill.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he says.

Maedhros' answering smile is more radiant than the Silmaril in his pocket.

It falters a little, though, when he catches sight of Curufin behind Fingon.

But he is used to keeping a cool head on the battlefield, and apprises Fingon of the situation swiftly and efficiently.

“We have been hard-pressed,” he says, “but we can turn the tide now, with your help. My King.”

His mouth curling a little mischievously, the sunlight picking out the shades of gold and chestnut in his red hair, the black viscera clinging to his sword: I love him, thinks Fingon, I love him.

How could anyone ever knowingly hurt him?

He keeps his own assessment of the battle to himself, for now, and says only, “No doubt!”

When he lifts his sword the soldiers rally to him – rally, he observes, as they did not to Maedhros – and the orcs retreat further.

They will be back again by nightfall, emboldened by the darkness, but for now they have a little breathing space at least.

There is plenty to discuss – now that Maedhros’ own captains are actually returned to him they are long overdue a council of war – but Fingon finds time, as they traipse back into the fortress, to pull Curufin aside and set the tip of his sword to his cousin’s throat.

“What was it your father said?” he asks. “This is sharper than thy tongue? I will not hesitate to turn it on you should you come near him. You have done enough damage already. Understood?”

“Understood,” Curufin says hoarsely, and Fingon backs away. His eyes are very cold and very bright.

Curufin is getting kind of used to death threats tbh. Maedhros put a knife to his throat as well.

Speaking of which, Maedhros seems unnervingly stable right now. The brother he left behind was not in any way capable of running Himring’s defences.

Curufin isn’t welcome in Maedhros’ war-council, and he can’t even fight that well with his burned right hand.

He goes in search of Maglor instead.

Maglor is expecting Maedhros when the door pushes open – a good thing because seeing Maedhros comforts him, and because he needs to hold the Silmaril again, but also a bad thing because he will invariably have to talk Maedhros down from the edge of panic.

His voice is very sharp, then, when he sees Curufin and says, “Ah, Curvo. You have rather a lot to explain.”

Curufin also has plenty of questions, but his mouth is at first too dry to ask them.

Maglor is so, so pale.

“I,” Curufin says, and stops.

Maglor is very angry, but he is also too tired to maintain his anger for long. “Why did you do it?” he asks, more quietly.

There are furious tears beginning to sting at Curufin’s eyes. He blinks them away and says, “I wish – I wish you had died and he had lived—”

Maglor understands this sentiment, awful as it is. How many times, during the long years of Maedhros’ captivity, did he wish that it had been any of his other brothers who were lost instead – anyone but Maedhros whom he loved best?

For a moment his instinct is to be gentle. But then he thinks of Maedhros standing just where Curufin is now, staring at Maglor with the bleak terrified look of an enemy – no, not an enemy, not anything so equitable as that – the look of an ill-used thrall.

“I still might,” he says, and twitches aside his coverlet to show Curufin the ugly, unhealed stab wound in his side.

Curufin draws in a breath. “How—?”

“Nelyo stabbed me,” says Maglor. It is the first time he has spoken the words aloud. They hurt more than he expected. “He thought – he thought I was an illusion, a trick of the Enemy. Because someone had told him I was dead.”

(Easier to turn all his anger onto its rightful target, to focus on the reasons why it happened and not the fact that it did – he is not angry with Maedhros, how could he ever be angry with Maedhros? This is Curufin’s fault.)

Curufin feels sick. “I didn’t—”

“How could you, Curvo?” Maglor asks, voice now barely above a whisper. “It was so cruel.”

“I didn’t mean for this,” says Curufin. “I just—” He closes his eyes; Maglor’s expression is hard to look at.

Focus. He has questions. “Where’s the other Silmaril? It might help—”

“That’s what you care about?” Maglor demands, instantly on the defensive. He doesn’t want to be reminded of his own failures. “Thingol has it. Isn’t that why you marched off to Doriath with most of our people?”

Curufin should have known Fingon was lying to him.

It might be a teensy bit hypocritical if he complains about that now.

“Go away, Curvo,” Maglor says wearily. “I am not in the mood for this.”

“I’m sorry,” Curufin manages, but his brother doesn’t respond.

Meanwhile Fingon and Maedhros have managed to put together some sort of battle plan [which I am not going to describe but it involves Manoeuvres and maybe also Tactics].

Now that the first delirious gladness of reunion is past Fingon can see that Maedhros does not look very well. He’s clearly stressed, and the people who stayed behind in Himring keep casting suspicious looks his way.

When the council is over and it is just the two of them left to take their private greetings of each other, Fingon takes Maedhros’ face between his hands and looks at him carefully, trying to read the story of all he must have suffered lately in his shadowed eyes and sharp cheekbones.

When Fingon kisses him, Maedhros sighs into his mouth as though he has not been able to breathe until this very moment.

“I missed you,” Fingon murmurs as they break apart.

“I thought,” says Maedhros, but he does not want to talk about what he thought, does not want to do anything but lean into the steady warmth of Fingon’s embrace.

But there is always work to be done, and so after a time he says, “Tell me what you really think, then.”

“About the battle?” Of course Maedhros didn’t miss Fingon’s reluctance to voice his own opinions during the council. But it is harder to lie now. “Russo, you cannot hold.”

Maedhros closes his eyes briefly. “I have to,” he says. “Now that my own captains are here – and you—”

(It is still hard to believe that anything could ever go wrong with Fingon, all shining faith in the face of impossible odds, beside him.)

“It will not be enough,” Fingon says gently, tracing small circles on Maedhros’ cheek with his thumb. “There are so many of them, and they have come so close. You will have to call a retreat sooner or later.”

It pains him to say it. Himring is the last bastion of the Noldor in the East, the last Fëanorian stronghold. All Maedhros’ fierce unwavering spirit is woven into these chilly stones.

Maedhros gives him a despairing look. “I can’t,” he says. “It’s Káno. He isn’t well, and I can’t put him through a retreat.”

“Then send him away now,” Fingon suggests, “he managed our last journey well enough.”

“He won’t go,” says Maedhros.

Fëanorians! thinks Fingon.

This does, at least, seem like a simple problem with a clear solution, so he goes to visit Maglor and inform him that he is being unreasonable.

Maglor, who after all has a penchant for Dramatic Reveals, stops his scolding in its tracks by once again tossing aside his coverlet to show Fingon his stab wound, although explaining where he got it is less fun.

Fingon lets out a string of curses. “He doesn’t know?”

“No,” says Maglor emphatically, “and he is never going to find out.”

"Well," Fingon says. He sits down on Maglor's bed, shocked.

Maglor manages a sideways smile. "Shall you miss me when I'm dead, cousin?"

"Don't say that," Fingon protests. "You might still – you might—"

"After all your hard work rescuing me from Menegroth, as well," says Maglor. He gives Fingon's arm a little squeeze.

"This is absurd," Fingon says firmly. "You aren't going to die. Russo can give you the Silmaril back, for a start. That helped before. And we can send you somewhere safer—" But it is now perilously obvious that Maglor's refusal to leave was not for any sentimental reasons, but merely that he is far too weak to travel. "We'll work it out, Makalaurë."

"Finno," Maglor murmurs, "at some point you will have to learn that you cannot save everyone."

Fingon makes a distressed sound and Maglor changes the subject. "You sorted things out with Thingol, at least. How did you convince him we posed no threat?"

Fingon glances at him and then gives in, perhaps rather selfishly, to the impulse to unburden himself. "I promised him Curufin's head," he says.

Maglor is quiet for a while. At last he says, "Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know," Fingon says. "I was so angry when I said it! How he could be so cruel to Russo – and I gave Thingol my word—"

"Curvo and Nelyo don't know," says Maglor. It isn't really a question, but Fingon shakes his head anyway.

Maglor thinks for a little while and then says, "If I die – no, listen to me – if I die, you can't do it." And when Fingon gives him a look, "Please. You didn't... you didn't see what Nelyo was like. He won't be able to – not after Tyelko too. Not both of us, please, Finno. My death or Curvo's, but not both."

"Makalaurë," Fingon says, dismayed.

"Promise me," Maglor insists.

"Fine," says Fingon, "I promise."

He can't deny it is a relief to have a loophole on the execution thing. This isn't how he wanted to find it, though.

But Maglor is smiling faintly. He falls back against the pillows, his burst of animating energy gone.

That doesn't mean you can deliberately refuse to get better for Curufin's sake, Fingon wants to say, but it's hard to phrase that in a non-absurd way. Instead he says, "Russo loves you, you know."

"I know," says Maglor, sounding tired.

Meanwhile Maedhros has been busy catching an orc.

(Most of them sleep during the day, but this one was stupid and/or hungry enough to slip away from its commanders.)

Fingon comes down to the dungeons to watch the interrogation, which Maedhros, as is his habit, carries out personally.

At first he speaks to the orc in Sindarin, but when it proves recalcitrant he switches to one of the orc-tongues instead.

Fingon is pretty sure he should not find the sound of his beloved speaking the harsh, guttural mockery of a language as sexy as he does. Whatever.

Maedhros asks it a sharp question or two and the orc, clearly startled to hear its language from an elf, answers sullenly.

Then Maedhros draws out the Silmaril and asks the orc another question as it flinches away from the light. He smiles, rather viciously.

(How fair his face in the light! But he was no less lovely in the darkness.)

"Put it to death," he tells one of the guards – in Quenya, which orcs do not, as a rule, understand.

Is it kinder this way, Fingon wonders? Is it better to keep the orc ignorant of its fate?

That is so not the point right now.

When he and Maedhros have come out again into the sunlit courtyard, Maedhros says, "As I thought. Morgoth wants the Silmaril back: every orc has been tasked with seizing it."

"Stupid on multiple levels," Fingon observes; "they won't be able to hold it, and they're far more likely to run off with it than bring it to Angband."

Maedhros smiles. "They'll be able to hold it if they capture its bearer instead," he says, eyes rather distant.

"Well, that settles it," Fingon says firmly. "You are not carrying that thing onto the field again. Leave it with Maglor." He pauses, and then adds, "It'll help him heal, too."

Maedhros agrees instantly; he has been worrying about Maglor all day.

If only all Fingon's problems could be dealt with so easily.

"Remember what I said," he warns, slipping his hand into Maedhros' as they enter a more secluded part of the fortress. "Himring will not hold forever, Russo."

"It need not hold forever," Maedhros murmurs. "Only until—" He breaks off and bites his lip.

Until Maglor is healed enough to manage a retreat, he means. But that feels far too selfish to say aloud.

He has always known he will put his own concerns before those of his people; that is why he gave the crown to Fingolfin long ago, after all.

It is quite another thing to see it put into practice, to weigh Maglor's life against all his followers' and find it is indisputably the heavier.

Fingon, meanwhile, is wondering whether Maglor will even outlast Himring.

Curufin holds his breath as they pass the little alcove where he is sitting; but, absorbed in the conversation and each other, they walk by without noticing him.

Maedhros still hasn't spoken to him since his return. Curufin isn't sure if he wants him to.

He comes to a decision.

(to be continued)

the fairest stars, continued

The "Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils" AU that has spiralled completely out of my control: time for a new post again! Parts 1-9 are here and Parts 10-15 here. Also now slowly being uploaded to AO3 here, though you still want tumblr for the latest version.

To recap:

Maedhros and Maglor are in Himring.

Maedhros has (somewhat, a bit, with caveats) recovered from his very bad unreality attack, and is now attempting to defend Himring from an army of orcs. Unfortunately 90% of his people aren't there.

Maglor has very much not recovered from being stabbed by Maedhros, and is not really in a great situation.

Fingon is busy trying to stop Curufin's war with Doriath. He's kind of managing to talk Thingol down from attacking Himring's assembled army.

Although his bright idea for accomplishing this was offering to execute Curufin.

Maedhros holds one Silmaril in Himring, Thingol has kept one in Menegroth, and the last one is still in Angband.

Dead characters who are nonetheless still in the story: Lúthien, Beren, Finrod, Celegorm.

When Maedhros' mother named him well-made, she was not picturing his prowess on a battlefield: but Maedhros was forged anew in the crucible of Angband, or perhaps more gently in his long months of healing by Mithrim's shores, and this is what he is good for, now.

And he is very good at war.

Under his command the defence of Himring rallies. Maedhros sets the few archers he has to rain down arrows on the arrows on the attacking orcs, and takes a small party out on horseback to drive them further back, and the fortress gains a little breathing space.

But there is only so much he can do with so few people – and people, at that, who are so strangely slow to respond to his command.

Not that they will disobey him openly, but he is far too aware of their suspicious eyes on his back, the wave of mutters that breaks every time he issues an order.

"And the way they look at me – as if I'm, as if I'm one of the Enemy's thralls – do you think—?"

"Nelyo," Maglor says instantly, "you are not a thrall."

Maedhros attempts to stop his frenetic pacing up and down Maglor's room. "Then why," he says. There is so much noise in his head. He cannot seem to finish the sentence.

"They're Curvo's people," says Maglor, and there is something hard and unfamiliar in his voice as he speaks their brother's name. "Who can say what poison he's fed them?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Maedhros blanches for a moment, draws in a sharp breath, and then says, "Curvo told me – he told me—"

"I know," Maglor says, reaching out a hand. "I know, and he lied. Come here."

Maedhros clutches at his hand. Maglor can feel his frantic, fluttering pulse beneath his fingers.

Maedhros can feel Maglor's, faint and irregular.

He tries to steady his breathing. Tries not to sort through the jumble of memories pressing against his skull (they're dead, they're both dead) and focuses on the present.

Maglor is here, alive, alive – although his pallor has worsened every time Maedhros can snatch a moment from the siege to visit him, and his grip on Maedhros' Silmaril is white-knuckled, and some nameless fear touches Maedhros as he looks at him.

"Should I send you away, dearest?" he asks.

Maglor's eyes widen. "What?"

"It isn't safe here," Maedhros explains, although he has little heart for his suggestion in the face of Maglor's obvious dismay. "If Himring does fall – I don't wish to put you through a hard retreat."

"Don't make me leave you," Maglor begs, his voice teetering on the edge of real distress. "I want – I want to stay here, and—"

"All right," Maedhros soothes. "All right. You can stay as long as I hold."

"You'll hold, Nelyo," Maglor says. "You always do."

In the face of this unwavering confidence Maedhros manages to summon a shaky smile.

When he is gone – and the sustaining warmth of the Silmaril with him – Maglor reviews his objectives, which are threefold.

One: stay alive. Not going very well tbh. He has not recovered from the blood loss. And more than that the world feels grey and cold to his eyes – he who has always loved sunrises – and he cannot stop remembering: the splintered haunted look in Maedhros' eyes, the way, before Maglor sang him to sleep, he was reaching for the knife to try again.

Two: make sure Himring doesn't fall. He cannot quite believe it will, while Maedhros is in command, but the news about the recalcitrance of the few soldiers they have is concerning. He should have realised that rumour would spread through the castle after Maedhros was found in a pool of Maglor's blood, should have blackmailed Curufin's lieutenant into keeping her mouth shut about it – but too late now. Hopefully Maedhros can rally them.

Three: keep Maedhros generally sane, and specifically unaware that he stabbed Maglor. Also not going too well. Maedhros is growing stressed and paranoid. He's noticed that Maglor is healing very slowly (or not at all, to be more accurate). And – as today's incident shows – he will remember, sooner or later.

A dire situation all round, Maglor concludes, and he is not sure how much longer he will have the energy to attempt to handle it.

Where's Fingon when you need him?

Exactly where he should be, actually!

Fingon is mostly succeeding in his objectives.

The Sindar have stood down.

(Thingol agreed to his terms. That’s what matters, right? Not the vague flash of disgust in his eyes.)

“Are we going back to Himring?” Curufin wants to know. “They’re in danger.”

I have to kill you, Fingon thinks, and says aloud, “Yes, we are. But if you’re lying to me again, Curufin…”

He lets the threat trail off.

Anyway. More pressing concerns for now.

He sets a hard pace back through Himlad, reasoning that even if Curufin is lying there won’t be any harm done in getting back to Himring quicker.

Curufin has been trying to make contact with Maglor again, but his brother’s mind is closed – worrying.

All he gathered from Maglor’s brief use of ósanwë was the scent of blood and panic, the sound of orc-horns in the distance and a terrible pain in his side.

Has Maglor been injured in battle? Surely not; his leg can’t be mended enough for him to fight yet. But then what’s wrong with him?

Curufin definitely isn’t going to try touching Maedhros’ mind, considering the state Maedhros was in when he left Himring.

This is such a mess. And it’s all his fault. And Celegorm is still dead.

Be better, Fingon told Curufin – but now he won’t even look at Curufin, and Curufin’s hand is still burned and he doesn’t think it will ever heal.

Does he even want it to?

Back at Himring, Maedhros watches as the orcs press closer. If they manage to surround the great hill completely—

[look I know nothing about military stuff. in lieu of any actual manoeuvres or strategies we are going to assume that the Bad Thing that needs to be prevented is the fortress being encircled. got it? cool.]

“Harass them from both flanks,” he orders. “Keep them contained, don’t let them spread out.”

His paltry force obeys, but with plenty of murmuring.

The patrols, Maedhros catches, and His own brother.

He doesn’t know what they mean. He doesn’t know how much longer he can possibly hold. He doesn’t know where Fingon is, or whether he’s succeeded at preventing a war with Doriath, or why Maglor isn’t getting better.

When there is nothing left but the clamour in his head and his racing pulse, there is still war, at least: still the swift brutal swing of his sword though orc-neck after orc-neck, the splatter of black blood against his breastplate and the deadly dance of the battle-field.

(Still the gentle light of the Silmaril in his pocket. Still Maglor, breathing. But those are harder to hold on to.)

Himring will not fall. Himring must not fall.

As the weary battle for the fortress continues, its chronicle is woven by steady, skilful hands in the House of Vairë.

Míriel Therindë’s grandson has little difficulty finding her tapestries in the Halls of Mandos.

He is staring at them in transfixed horror when he feels a presence behind him.

“Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine,” says Finrod, coming to sit beside him (metaphorically. since spirits can’t really sit. you know the drill). “Looking at the tapestries.”

Celegorm snorts impatiently. In life he had a tendency, when frustrated, to slip into the language and mannerisms of whatever bird or beast he felt most appropriate to the situation – elves are simply too stupid to talk to being the clear implication.

Finrod is absurdly pleased to find out this is still the case.

Or maybe it isn’t absurd, he tells himself, maybe it’s natural to want to believe that this is still the cousin he grew up with, that a person can betray you and turn your kingdom against you and still have some parts worth saving.

“I meant,” Celegorm is saying derisively, “what are you doing in these Halls? I thought your dear cousin won you a special boon.”

“Impressive you can still speak of her, after what you did,” observes Finrod. “But yes, Mandos did tell me I was to be re-embodied. First of all the Exiles, you know.”

“And?” Celegorm presses, after he is silent for a time.

Finrod smiles at him. “I told him thanks, but no thanks,” he says.

Celegorm splutters for a bit. “What?” he manages at last. “Ingoldo, have you lost your mind? How – why – is this all out of some misguided form of pity? Or are you just flinging it in my face that you can choose to leave and I can’t?”

“Lúthien reminded me,” Finrod says seriously, “that we always have a choice.”

Back in Himring, Maedhros is being pressed hard.

They are so badly outnumbered, and the orcs keep coming and coming, a never-ending river.

If Himring falls, Maglor dies – for there is no chance of his surviving a hurried retreat, Maedhros can see that even without fully understanding what ails his brother, and he has refused to be sent away in advance.

Himring can’t fall, Maedhros tells himself.

(To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well – how those words echoed in his ears four hundred years ago, as he watched his high stone fortress built. He realises, now, that he always expected Himring to fall.)

The orcs have pushed them back to the south of the hill, almost closing off the circle, cutting off their last path of retreat.

Will he burn with the house, then – like Amrod, like his father? The prospect would not be so awful were it not for Maglor.

Nothing lasts forever; Maedhros understands that as few other elves do, and has done since Angband.

But Maglor – Maglor has to live forever – Maglor is dying—

To the south-west sounds a clear silver horn, the horn of Fingolfin.

(to be continued)

[earthshine-moon]

The Fëanorians’ names

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and I wanted all of their names and etymologies in one place so I thought I’d share it ❤️

Feel free to let me know in the notes if I’ve missed any or gotten anything wrong

Maedhros

The Tall (sobriquet)

Nelyafinwë (fn, Quenya) - ‘third Finwë’

Nelyo (s fn, Q) - ‘third’

Maitimo (mn, Q) - ‘well-shaped one’

Russandol (epessë, Q) - ‘copper-top’ (from russa - ‘red-haired’). Given by his brothers due to his red hair. He also wore a copper circlet

Maedhros (Sindarin) - from maed - ‘shapely’ and ross - ‘red-haired’. Derived from Maitimo and Russandol

Maedros (S) - proper spelling of Maedhros due to the etymology

Maidhros/Maedhros (Noldorin) - ‘pale-glitter’ (from maidh - ‘pale’ / ‘fallow’ / ‘fawn’ and rhoss - ‘flash’ / ‘glitter of metal’)

Maglor

The Minstrel (s)

Kanafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong-voiced Finwë’

Kano (s fn, Q) - ‘commander’ / ‘crier’ / ‘herald’

Macalaurë (mn, Q) - ‘forging gold’ / ‘gold-cleaver’. Prophetic reference to his harping skill with laurë being poetic and not referring to the metal

Maglor (S) - ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Magalor (pure S rendition) - presumably ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Maglor (N) - ‘gold-cleaver’ (from Macalaurë)

Celegorm

The Fair (s)

Turcafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body) Finwë’

Turco (s fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body)’ / ‘chief’

Tyelcormo (mn, Q) - ‘hasty-riser’. Reference to his quick temper and habit of standing up when angry (from tyelka - ‘hasty’ and (I think) ormë - ‘haste’ / ‘violence’ / ‘rushing’)

Celegorm (S) - ‘hasty riser’ (from Tyelcormo). North Sindarin as it keeps the m

Celegorn (N) - presumably ‘swift-impetuous’

Celecormë (Q) - early form of Quenya version of Celegorm. Relating to Oromë

Caranthir

The Dark (s)

Morifinwë (fn, Q) - ‘dark Finwë’. Referring to his black hair inherited from Finwë

Moryo (s fn, Q) - from morë - ‘black’ / ‘dark’ / ‘darkness’

Carnistir (mn, Q) - ‘red-face’. Referring to his ruddy complexion inherited from Nerdanel

Caranthir (S) - ‘red-face’ (from Carnistir)

Cranthir / Cranthor (N) - ‘perfect’

Curufin

The Crafty (s)

Curufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘skilful Finwë’. Fëanor’s father-name. Given because Curufin was his father’s favourite and most like him in looks and mind

Curvo (s fn, Q) - ‘skill’ (from curu)

Atarincë (mn, Q) - ‘little father’. Referring to his resemblance to his father in both looks and mind

Curufin (S) - from curu - ‘skill’ and fin - Sindinarised Finwë

Cyrefinn Facensearo (Old English) - translation of his name in The Earliest Annals of Valinor. Defined as cyre - ‘choice’, facen - ‘deceit, guile, wickedness’, searu - ‘skill, cunning’, facensearu - ‘treachery’

For reference: Amrod is noted as the older twin for most of the legendarium. Inverted in a later story when Tolkien was working out the etymology of their names when he also changed Amrod’s fate

Amrod

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Pityafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘little Finwë’. Name of the older twin

Pityo (s fn, Q) - ‘little’ (from pitya)

Ambarto (mn, Q) - amba - ‘up’ / ‘upwards’ / ‘top’ and arata - ‘high’ / ‘noble’ / ‘exalted’ / ‘lofty’ / ‘excellent’

Minyarussa (Q) - ‘first-russa’. Called by others

Ambarussa (Q) - ‘top-russet’. Name they called each other

Umbarto (Q) - ‘fated’ (masculinised form of umbar - ‘fate’. In the 12th volume of The History of Middle-earth, it was given by Nerdanel after Fëanor begged for their names to be different. He changed it to Ambarto and gave it to the youngest twin. Used by no one

Damrod (Q) - Noldorin translation of the Qenya name Nambarauto (from namba - ‘to hammer’ and rauta - ‘metal’). Used in earlier Silmarillion material

Déormód (OE) - ‘brave-hearted’. Translation of Damrod

Amras

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Telufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘last Finwë’. Name of the younger twin

Telvo (s fn, Q) - ‘last’ / ‘final’ (from telda)

Ambarussa (mn, Q) - ‘top-russet’. Also the name they called each other

Atyarussa (Q) - ‘second-russa’. Called by others

Diriel (Exilic Noldorin) - derived from the Old Noldorin name Dirghel (from dîr - ‘adult male’ (of any race) and gel - ‘joy’ / ‘shout’ / ‘triumph’)

Maithog / Mailweg - possible initial names for Amras before written over with either Dinithel or Durithel

Tirgeld (OE) - from tîr - ‘glory’ and geld - ‘gild’ (in names meaning ‘of worth’)

[silmarillaure]

Something I noticed about the Feanorians…

A&A seem to take mostly after Nerdanel, specifically in the later drafts

Amrod clearly had very different ideas from Feanor at Losgar, wishing to leave & get back to his mother who initially pleaded with him to stay. Or if he wasn’t on the ships to go back, he at least seemed to expect the ships would be sent back to his uncle’s host.

Amras was brave enough to speak against Feanor after losing his brother, something the others did not do, & then minded his own business in ME instead of causing trouble besides his involvement in the Kinslayings, which may be inherited wisdom from Nerdanel as she also stayed out of conflict.

3C almost take exclusively after Feanor

Celegorm is Feanor with a greater fall from greatness

I think Celegorm started out as a better person than Feanor. Maybe it was due to lacking the trauma & grief that plagued Feanor since birth, but he seemed to have held no ill will towards even those his beloved father held in contempt. He was once someone who befriended so many of his half cousins with little reason to have an ulterior motive for doing it, and was a valued companion of Orome, being the most famous elven hunter in the Legendarium.

He doesn’t sound like someone rotten from the start, yet he became someone more infamous & hated than Feanor had ever been.

Caranthir is Feanor who changed for the better

The dark one, the angry harsh one, the loner. You’d think this would be the son of Feanor who turned out the worst & most hated right, rather than his fair & social brother who was once favored by a Vala?

Caranthir’s descriptions do not paint him pleasantly. He inherited a temper from Feanor & he was undoubtedly being a little cruel, like his father was capable of being, in that scene with Angrod. Yet unlike Feanor, he changed. He never became a perfect person, but he learned to keep his emotions in check & became a better person. He went from a haughty a-hole who fought with everyone he was displeased by to a guy who helped others, made alliances, & saved people.

Coming to Middle Earth improved him as much as it worsened Celegorm. Had it not been for the oath & kinslayings, I think he could have been fulfilled to his greatest potential as much as Finrod & Turgon were.

Curufin is Feanor without an identity

I have less to say on him than I do the other 2 Cs because we already know how Curufin is like Feanor. He’s Curufinwe, but he’s not Feanaro.

He has the face & body, but not the soul. The spirit of fire, an essential component to who Feanor is.

Feanor was revered as much as he was hated, Curufin is just hated. Feanor was everything Curufin is, yet Curufin is nothing close to what Feanor was.

M&M have both so much of Feanor & so much of Nerdanel in them at once, yet in different ways

Maglor's temperament is canonically his mother's. He has her gentleness & rationality. But though he is kind, he has a brutally unforgiving side to him, which likely comes from Feanor. He's an artist like both his parents, but like Feanor, he's a prodigy.

Maedhros's most famous feature, his hair, is Nerdanel's. His kindness, wisdom, & morality are his mother's.

Everything except for his father's craft, Maedhros's shares with Feanor. His fury, his pride, his fierce unshakable love, his loyalty, his bravery, his soul, are all his father's.

[eri-pl]

You know, what else would be hilarious?

You know, in AtLA the "Ember Island" episode? The one with theather? Imagine: After Doriath, the remaining Feanorians (M&M, A& maybe A depending on what you prefer) go spying among the refugees in one or another city (no, IDK how Maedhros is not recognizeable, elven illusions, ok? Maglor does it) and there is a theatre and it does a play about Feanor and his sons (mostly about the sons) and it has the budget of a Czech musical and historical accuracy of the Amazon series.

Most of the men are played by girls (because boys and adults are mostly dead or fighting), Maglor is the main character, portrayed as weeping all the time and talkieng about hope (see: Katara in the episode) and hating his brothers (also, a strong suggestion that he's actually Fingolfin's son). Maedhros is portrayed as an orc-like monster but also has a lot of evidently artifical muscles which he flexes all the time in a flirty way. Celegorm is shown eating people, beating his dog, and still somehow is a comic relief. Curufin is played by the same actor as Feanor, only wearing heels (yes, they do the "short Feanor" thing) and is basically the same character, only he screams less and speaks in whole sentences (yes, they somehow make Feanor dumb). Caranthir is somehow turned human to marry Haleth (who is an evil witch). Amrod and Amras are one character.

Oh, and the actor playing Maglor cannot sing well (for an Elf at least).

And they need to sit there unnoticed in order to gather information about the Silmaril later, or something.

[eri-pl]

OP tags: #But WHY WOULD THINGOL GIVE THE SILMARIL TO SoF#Excellent question#In this version he is not a person with feelings#he is a perfect moral good#In the real version he is a person with feelings and he’ll be damned if he gives up a bloody Silmaril that cost his daughter’s immortality#Yeah#that’s not morally good#but neither is Doriath my guys#silmarillion#silm#Silm meta#silm au#thingol#sons of feanor#nirnaeth arnoediad

I mean if Carcaroth had not eaten the messangers from Thingol to Maedhros; and if Maedhros was not too "family above all else" to apologize for C&C, distance himself from their behavior and promise to keep them in check—

—oh and actually told Thingol of the little "we believe that if we don't regain and defend the gems we are going to be doomed/cursed/stop existing/whatever" detail (which it's very possible nobody had ever told him about per the Silm version)—

—Thingol might have given it.

[Also, a note: Even with the most "reclaim the Silmarils"-oriented and most punishing interpretations of the Oath, Maedhros being given the Silmaril under the condition that C&C can't play with it/wear it/ generally have custody of it, and following those conditions, does not send anyone nto Everlasting Darkness. It just makes C&C upset. And Thingol very much would do that. And Maedhros very much would rather do that than murder. So, cut to frustrated C&C inventing a better way to attack Angband, and with Curufin they may as well invent pyrotechnics and da Vinci-style helicopters.]

Canon Divergent AU where Thingol gives the Silmaril to the Sons of Feanor after receiving it from Beren alright Ulfang I’d like to see your slimy son get close to his commander without running away from ‘the power of that holy jewel’

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Vote on the sister polls:

Tyelcormo vs Curufinwë vs Þauron

Tyelcormo vs Curufinwë vs Eöl

Þauron vs Moringoþo vs Eöl

Þauron vs Moringoþo vs Tyelcormo

Þauron vs Moringoþo vs Curufinwë

[sunnyshinesunshine]

A Tolkien Fic Rec

let the gods look down on this and wonder by @dialux & rainforezt - Aredhel-centric, 22.5k, rated T (complete)

This post canon Valinor fic has everything. Aredhel being a flawed badass. Nolofinwean drama. Complex mother-daughter relationships. Come for female-focused Silm Fics, stay for Aredhel breaking Valinor while dealing with her family. Cannot recommend enough.

A Boy, A Girl, And a Dog: The Leithian Script posted to Ao3 by GammaCavy (originally by Philosopher At Large) - Lúthien/Beren, 593k, rated G (complete)

A retelling of the Lúthien and Beren in script form based vaguely on Ol’ Will Shakes. I rarely read true canon compliant works, but this is worth every heart wrenching second. It’s funny, poignant, and deserves to be produced as an actual production. I would pay money to see it.

Aurë entuluva - series by @theheirofashandfire - multi pairing mainly Fingon/Maedhros, 589.5k over 17 installments, rated G-M (ongoing)

THIS. This is The Silm Fix-It. Begins with A Thread Unraveled, a Nirnaeth Arnoediad Ground-Hog day style fix-it centered on Maedhros, then expands. The author does a great job with the politics and the fallout of the Nirnaeth being a success and how that changes the rest of the events of the Silm. I especially love her characterizations of Melian, Finduilas, Turgon, and all the Brothers Fëanor.

The Last Spring by clothonono on ao3 - Finwëan fam + background Fingon/Maedhros, 26.2k, rated G (complete)

This right here is how I imagine the Family Finwë pre-canon. Fëanor brings his children to visit Tirion for the first time. The tension between the children of Finwë is delicious. The characterization of Fëanor is delicious. The foreboding ending, also delicious. This could be an entire six course meal if it was edible. Also baby Galadriel is amazing and terrifying.

As a Star Upon a Hill by @mynameisjessejk - Lúthien/Beren & Fingon/Maedhros, 11.9k, rated T (complete)

A fix-it au where Celegorm and Curufin decide to not be assholes, Beren and Lúthien steal all three Silmarils, and everyone agrees that dads kinda suck. Borderline crack, but such a feel good fic ugh it makes me happy.

Light Touched by whovianhiddlestoner on ao3 - kidnap + peredhel fams, 48.9k, rated T (complete)

Another (relatively) lighthearted fic where everyone who touches the Silmarils get to be Eldritch and Elrond has a lot of family reunions. Mainly set in the third age, ending in Valinor. Beautiful language all around, and also Maedhros’ hair is on fire. Which is awesome.

The Iron Ring by lulumiche on ao3 - Glorfindel/Maeglin, 39.2k, rated M (ongoing)

Post-canon in Valinor. Maeglin was actually in love with Glorfindel, which no one but Idril knows. Come for the discussions of homophobie in elf society, stay for some of the realest feeling characterizations I have ever read. Seriously, I don’t really like Maglor as Lindir but I ate it up here. Also lots of interesting magic.

The Silver Rule by SpaceWall on ao3 - Celebrían/Elrond/Gil-galad, 70.4k, rated T (complete)

More post-canon Valinor shenanigans. This time, Celebrían argues law, makes friends, and wants her husband back. I love breaking Valinor, and I especially love when Tolkien women do it. And let’s be honest, the Statute of Finwë and Míriel is utter balogney.

I Do; I Will by @littlewhitemouseagain - Fingon/Maedhros, 22.8k, rated M (complete)

The one in which everyone is on their worst behavior and the sons of Fëanor challenge Fingon to duels over his crown. I cannot emphasize enough how this is The Fingon Fic. His flaws are exposed and addressed in such a way that I’ve never seen before. The insights into the Fëanorians, especially Mae, are also really super poignant. This deserves so much attention.

Across The Table by Tuginda on ao3 - Gimli/Legolas & Glorfindel/Erestor, 9.5k, rated G (complete)

A conversation between two couples at Aragorn and Arwen’s wedding. Beautiful, sweet, and containing one of my favorite things: crotchety old Fëanorian Erestor. Somehow feels like both a conversation about dwarves and elves, and a lovely tribute to the Noldor.

+ 1

of drowning men by bimmyou on ao3 - Isildur/Valandil, 26.5k, rated E (complete)

The best Rings of Power fic I’ve read so far. Nails all of Isildur’s character flaws and gives such an incredible depth to Valandil.

[kingocats]

As someone who still gets triggered by the Elwing bashing (and Earendil as well), even if it's 2024, I understand your frustrations so badly. It's the fact that a man can do the most horrific shit ever to that woman and people will feel more sympathy for the man and ignore the woman's pain/insult the decisions the woman made in a very emotional moment (it's even worse because it reflects real-life situations too). Using the twin's age to justify that everything was 'uwu happy adoption' makes me cringe so hard like why are y'all celebrating the fact that the twins were orphans, that they lost their actual home and their people? They were safe in Sirion and that wasn't adoption at all, that's kidnapping and they were treated as hostages which consequently is traumatizing for the twins but nope, they won't acknowledge that. And the 'they were better off with m&m' I'm sorry these two were already at the lowest point in their lives, they were not mentally and emotionally there. Very nice that love grew between them, at least we know the twins weren't abused but guess what, they were already loved by the people of Sirion. Cirdan and Gil-galad were about to save them so the decision to keep the twins instead of returning them was so fucking selfish of m&m. The twins aren't emotional crutches for those two, they are children who deserve to grow up in a safe environment, not in the vicinity of murderers of their kin. "If they still prefer m&m to their parents that’s some manipulation going on there." finally someone says it, it's very true and leaning on the 'm&m are better parents' and 'the twins hate their parents but love the kinslayer's more' agenda that they have going on. It's so true that "no amount of love can erase the loss and blood that someone inflicted on you" yet somehow the fandom lovesss to portray that there was no trauma at all, it's all happy and fun and all the bs. I've read this from a post but they said it's always the twins 'resenting' their parents but there is never a 'the twins resent m&m' for putting them through that shit. Might I add that Elwing's suicide attempt is always grossly made fun of by the fandom but Maedhros's suicide gets so much analysis and sympathy. And I just wanna say, despite me loving the feanorians, it's so hard to digest content that purposely shits on Elwing and her family. Fuck, this was too long, I am sorry, it's just that I still see shit like that floating everywhere, and it never fails to make my blood boil.

Fucking thank you, it’s nice to see someone who actually agrees with me. I’m glad I haven’t seen anyone actually make fun of elwings suicide attempt. But in general they seem to demonize her to a degree that just gals me. And it’s specifically because they don’t like what she represents about the feanorians. With doriath everyone can sympathize with the victims because it s celegorm curufin and caranthir who are mainly the monsters. But no one wants Mae or mags to ever come off as cruel and guess what?? They are! Or rather they have it in them to be. Are they always cruel? No! It would be boring if they were but it’s also boring and frankly asinine to rewrite a classic work of fiction because you’re kindlaying meow meow committed an atrocity after already committing two whole previous atrocities. And to throw one of the few women in the story under the bus after her home was destroyed, her family destroyed and her livelihood destroyed? Say you hate women without saying you hate women, go ahead say it

[aipilosse]

Now I am really really curious and want to know more about your theory of C&C and M&M not being close anymore in Beleriand and why you don't buy their super duper close relationship. I noticed that as well as the fact that C&C are the feanorians often linked not just to Aredhel but to the three Arafinweans, especially Orodreth and Angrod who in the many versions are actually close to C&C which honestly is pretty interesting and such cool thing.

oooh yeah sure, I'll talk about this! This is more contrarian headcanon-not-contradicted-by-canon than anything I came to organically, but it's now become my preferred way of thinking about them.

Anyway, first, I will clarify that my theory is not Celegorm & Curufin and Maedhros & Maglor not being close in Beleriand; it is that they were NEVER close, even in Aman. We know from the story that Fëanor's sons were fiercely devoted to him, but it's never said that they were especially close with each other. And with a father who was likely demanding, played clear favorites, and had piles of charisma, I could easily see the brothers' relationships being marked by jealousy and simmering resentment, but not in an 'every brother for himself' way. It seems M&M have a strong relationship and C&C do too. Caranthir is the odd one out where it seems like none of his brothers are too attached, and honestly there's so little about Amras & Amrod but from what's there they form another obvious pair. But yeah, C&C definitely have a lot connections to the rest of the family! And it seems like those friendships were created before the Darkening and the Flight, and then renewed after Maedhros' rescue.

After Fëanor's death, Maedhros leads his brothers, but here I don't think that's because of any especial familial love or 'big brother Maedhros protective power uwu', and more because as Princes of the Noldor descended from Fëanor they are a *political* unit.

Sidebar: I think the 'family' part of the family politics of the House of Finwë is super overemphasized and the 'politics' part languishes. Like, Maedhros' brothers owe some sort of political allegiance to him (I'd say fealty... but I feel like someone with more historical knowledge will jump out of the woodwork and 'well ackshually' me) -- they are not a normal modern family!!

Now, I think the common fandom interpretation of suffocatingly close and devoted sons of Fëanor is a reasonable conclusion to reach from reading 'Of the Return of the Noldor' and I don't think my 'brothers at odds' theory is more canon; it's more that I don't think close and devoted take is the only reasonable conclusion. I have in fact seen people discard an obvious interpretation of events off hand because of the fact that all of the sons of Fëanor were soooo obviously devoted to each other, any time they didn't seek each other out there must be *something* preventing them from joining their brothers.

I really must disagree -- while C&C seem very close as do M&M, I think it's just as likely that when they're all together they're an acrimonious bitter mess, and that Maedhros staked out lands for them out east not just to keep the peace with Fingolfin & Finrod, but also to reduce fighting between his brothers. Also, them being an acrimonious bitter mess together does not mean they aren't charming, fun even, apart. Finrod is friends with all three pairs (sorry Caranthir); there's the other aforementioned C&C Arafinwean friendships and Aredhel friendship; Maedhros is friends with Fingolfin and Fingon. They even form alliances with non-elves apart, with Curufin befriending some dwarvish groups independently, and different brothers forming different mannish alliances. And I haven't even mentioned Amrod & Amras and the green elves. This all points to the brothers being reasonable, personable people when separated, capable of forming friendships and political alliances both, and perhaps to some degree hating each other's guts when together.

Food for thought! I welcome any and all enjoyers of my 'the sons of Fëanor would rather not be in a room together ever again' theory.