#maedhrosmaglorweek 2024

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Never again

Day 6 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: M

Pairing: Maedhros/Maglor

Others: Elrond & Elros | Tárawë (OC, a much put upon tutor of the elflings)

Prompt: Respite

Suggestions: Bits of Hurt/Comfort | Childcare | Domesticity. 

Themes: Soft | Comfort | NSFW

Warnings: Incest | Kissing | Minor injury

Wordcount: 1.7k words

Summary: Maedhros receives a less than warm welcome from his brother after he returns to Amon Ereb

Minors DNI | 18+

It was something wholly unexpected to witness his brother act as a father figure to two elflings who, by all rights, should despise him.

Elrond and Elros followed Maglor wherever he went and listened to everything he had to say. With him, their lord's brother, they were far from effusive, and they looked as if they were frightened of him. More often than not, they stayed out of his way.

“Be patient with them, my lord,” their tutor, Tárawë, counseled him the fourth morning after his arrival, while they were breaking their fast in the solar. “They have only just come to trust your brother, and I am certain they will come to trust you as well.”

Read the full story here:

[aquaregiaart]

'Youth.' for day 1, "Treelight" of @maedhrosmaglorweek 2024

some information and details:

this painting is based on a homonym noveau painting by Henri-Jules-Ferdinand Bellery-Desfontaines. You can read more on it here.

details are unedited from the original size; which you can find on my kofi page, along with some process, if you are so inclined <3

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Trickery born out of innocence

Day 5 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: Teens and up

Pairing: Maglor & Elrond & Elros

Others: Tárawë (OC, a much put upon tutor of the elflings)

Suggestions only: Taboo and rule breaking | Innocence/Experience

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Brief mention of blood & Maedhros and Maglor’s relationship

Wordcount: 1.2k words

Summary: The twins get up to mischief while in Amon Ereb

Minors DNI

Maglor put down the parchment he held in hand and sighed when the tutor burst into his chambers, flustered and more than a little vexed. “What have they done now, Lord Tárawë?”

Tárawë, his cheeks red and his eyes full of embarrassment, blew out a breath and said, “Tis most unbecoming my lord,” he began, flashing teeth and a tongue stained a deep, unnatural purple, “for elven lords, even those who are exceedingly young and who have witnessed great loss, to slip ink into their teacher’s cup of wine!” 

Read the full story here:

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Parley

Day 2 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: M

Pairing: Maedhros/Maglor

Prompt: Trust/Distrust

Suggestions: Parting ways | The Oath | A wee mention of Maedhros’ captivity

Themes: NSFW

Warnings: Incest | Kissing

Wordcount: 800 words precisely

Summary: Maedhros considers Morgoth’s offer to negotiate with them. Maglor thinks the offer is a ruse, and that Morgoth plans on deceiving them

Minors DNI | 18+

Summary: Maedhros considers Morgoth’s offer to negotiate with them. Maglor thinks the offer is a ruse, and that Morgoth plans on deceiving them

Maglor read the missive again and carefully parsed through each line. Of flattery, there was aplenty, and words filled with sweet promise. He crumpled it in his fist and said, “This is a trap, brother. You must not ride out to meet him. You will only endanger yourself if you do.”

The full story can be read here:

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A dark sense of foreboding

for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: M

Pairing: Maedhros/Maglor

Others: Finwë, Fëanor, Nerdanel

Prompt: Treelight

Suggestions: Formenos | The Silmarils

Themes: NSFW

Warnings: Incest

Wordcount: 1.2k words

Summary: The brothers help welcome their grandfather to Formenos.

Minors DNI

When Maglor was thrown to the dirt yet again, it was with a loud thud, and a painful groan.

“You falter, brother.” Maedhros extended his hand to help him to his feet. “And you give yourself away too easily. You must be deft, swift, and sudden, or else your foe will make easy prey out of you.”

The full story can be read here:

Original Image: Dave Hoefler/Unsplash

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Leader of the family

Day 3 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: M

Pairing: Maedhros/Maglor

Prompt: Himring and the Gap

Suggestions: Fealty and Loyalty

Themes: Soft | NSFW

Warning: Kissing | Incest

Wordcount: 1K words

Summary: After he is freed and settled in Himring, Maedhros takes on the role of as the leader of his family.

Minors DNI | 18+

It was strange to feel the circlet his brother, Curufin, had crafted for him, rest amidst what remained of his hair. It was a thing of great beauty, to be sure, all brilliant twists of gold and silver, with the eight-pointed star of his House adorning the center, crusted with fiery jewels. And yet it was strange to him, for Maedhros was not a king but only a high elven lord, a marred one at that, and he was anointed as such for the sake of curbing the follies and misdeeds of his brothers.

I best pray that my task will not be a hard one.

Read the full story here:

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The last of his great line

Day 7 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: E

Pairing: Maglor only

Others: Maedhros (mentioned only)

Suggestions: Bits of Music | Fate | Noldolantë | Memory and legend

Themes: Dark/Dead Dove | Angst | Open ending

Warnings: Scarring | Canon / Major character death prior to the story | Major character death during the story | Self-inflicted death (immolation & drowning) | Ambiguous / Open ending

Wordcount: 1.5k words

Summary: Maglor contemplates his life, the memories that come from playing his harp and singing his lament

Minors DNI | 18+

The seasons changed, and the years came and went. The world had altered much since elves in boots and armor reached the icy shores of Middle Earth, and yet he, Maglor, remained as he was, ageless and unchanging, save for the ever-present mark upon his right palm. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, it burned as if a great fire blazed from within, causing him indescribable pain. Seated upon the golden sands of a distant shore devoid of elves and mortals, Maglor regarded it, overwhelmed with a bone-deep feeling of disgrace and sorrow, when his eyes fell upon the scar on the flat of his hand. 

It was in the shape of a star—the eight-pointed star of the House of Fëanor, the brand most favored by his father. How ironic, he thought, to be marred for all time by the very emblem chosen by the one who sired him.

Read the full story here:

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Soft of heart

Day 4 for @maedhrosmaglorweek

Rating: E

Pairing: Maedhros/Maglor

Prompt: Heroism/Villainy

Suggestions: Kinslayings | With Elrond and Elros

Themes: Dark | Some Angst

Warnings: Incest | Minor violence | Mentions of suicide attempt (Canon/Elwing)

Wordcount: 1.1K

Summary: After Elrond and Elros are found after the sack of the Havens, Maedhros sends them and Maglor to Amon Ereb

Minors DNI | 18+

Maglor stood by the open tent flap and silently regarded the elflings resting for the first time in many days.

Whether he took them under his wing out of guilt or shame or pity, he could not say. Nevertheless, the children of Elwing were now under the care of his brother and himself, and they would remain so until fate decided otherwise.

Read the full story here:

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 24: Storytelling

For @maedhrosmaglorweek final day prompt Storytelling!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic (Elrond and Elros), Sibling Incest, Established Relationship, Marriage

Harsh winds blew across the moores, battering against the stone walls of their stronghold. Bare tree branches shook and shuttered with the force of the storm, and rain blew sideways like shooting arrows. Inside, two young half-Elven children burrowed together beneath an old quilt.

“Elros? Elrond? Boys, where are you? I have tea!”

Their ears perked up at the sound of their foster father’s deep, soothing voice calling out to them.

“In here, Maglor!” Elros cried, briefly freeing his small face from the blanket to shout before burying himself again.

Maglor entered the room to find them huddled at the foot of their bed, far away from the thick-paned window barring them from the storm. He set their drinks down and pulled up a chair.

“Does the weather frighten you?” He asked gently.

“No!” Elrond responded, at the same time as his twin brother replied, “Yes!”

Heated whispers were exchanged beneath the cover of the quilt, muffled but frantic as they argued. Maglor slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his bark of laughter.

“Well,” he finally replied, once he’d gained control of his amusement. “Whether you feel frightened or not, it wouldn’t do to let your special drinks get cold.”

“Special drinks?” Elrond asked, inquisitive.

“I thought it was tea, you said it was tea,” Elros added.

“Yes, it’s tea, but I added lots of honey and cinnamon. Won’t you try it?”

After a moment, two heads appeared with comically frizzy hair. The children accepted their warm mugs of tea and drank appreciatively. Once he was satisfied that they were alright, Maglor rose to leave, but they stopped him.

“Will you stay, Maglor? Tell us a story?”

He hesitated for only a moment. His brother, Maedhros, was waiting for him downstairs by the fire, two mugs of warm mulled wine and a rare invitation to cuddle laid on the table. He would like to go to him, but he would like to comfort his children more. Surely his brother would understand.

“Alright,” he sighed, seating himself again. “What story do you want to hear?”

The boys thought for a moment.

“Tell us how you met Maedhros,” Elros finally decided.

“Met? He’s my brother, he was there the day I was born.”

“Well, yes, we know that, but do you remember it? That first day?”

“And when did you get married? Why?” Elrond added, his eyes bright and curious. The storm was already forgotten.

Maglor swallowed, glancing towards the doorway. He had not been able to keep the romantic nature of his relationship with his brother a secret for long when he’d taken in the peredhel children; he had never had a need to hide it, with most of the world disliking this family anyways. Incest was just another drop in the bucket along with murder, sabatoge, betrayal, and any other number of crimes people liked to pin on them. He had painstakingly explained the situation to them, taking care to emphasize that it was not accepted by anyone else, though they loved each other deeply, and that they ought not to copy his example.

He finally asked, “What else do you want to know?” after a long silence.

“Have you always loved him like a husband?”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, since before I knew what that even meant. We have always been together, always been close, and I looked up to him. When I was your age, he would swing me onto his shoulders and carry me through the forests outside Tirion. He picked me pretty flowers and taught me songs, and let me braid his hair. I didn’t know then what I felt, but I never wanted it to stop.”

A pause, a long sigh. The children stared at him with rapt attention.

“When I got older, I realized that I was in love with him. We talked about it and started courting in secret, though our family soon found out. They were not happy, I can tell you! But we continued on, and eventually we decided to get married. And we have been together since, ever since… Well, ever since he was rescued by Findekano and brought back to me.”

“And I am thankful every day that I was given a second chance to stay by your side.”

All three of them jumped, turning to look at the doorway where Maedhros stood. He had come in silently, his steps lacking sound for hundreds of years now, and was carrying his goblet of wine in his left hand.

“The blanket you have, that was a wedding gift from our brother, Morofinwe Caranthir. He had it woven with our personal crests combined, to represent our union. He, like the rest of our family, was angry at first, but he eventually accepted the inevitable.”

“And that is?” Maglor asked, eyes riveted to his brother’s form.

“We are married. Our souls are bonded forever, til death and beyond.”

Maedhros strode forward and kissed him delicately, the twins cheering in the background. He grinned against his younger brother’s lips, mouthing an “I love you” into the soft mouth before pulling away.

“And now, I would request that my husband be returned to me. It’s time for bed.”

Despite several attempts at evading it, the twins were soon tucked beneath the marriage quilt, fast asleep. Maedhros and Maglor went downstairs to reheat their wine and talk long into the night.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 21: Herosim/Villany

@maedhrosmaglorweek day 4 prompt Heroism/Villany, I focused on the suggested topic of reputation

Warnings: None again, this is fluff and gen unless you want to imagine it as slash!

The princes Kanafinwe Makalaure and Nelyafinwe Russandol were familiar faces in the marketplace. Past stalls and vendors and citizen-filled benches they would stroll, arm in arm, indulging in cream filled pastries and socializing with the craftspeople.

Before each of his concerts, Kanafinwe would drag his elder brother to the city’s center, claiming his outfit was missing an essential element, or that he ought to hand out last minute invitations to those which looked as if some entertainment may brighten their countenance. Russandol followed willingly, ever the dutiful chaperone and supporter of artistry - as well as the holder of their shared coin purse who could often be persuaded into purchasing yet another pair of dangling earrings - to calm his pre-performance nerves and guide him back to the amphitheater by the Mingling.

After each of the council sessions in which he’d sat as advisor to the King, or as royal scribe, Nelyafinwe requested a jaunt across the marketplace to take in the fresh air and high spirited people. He claimed his heart was lightened to see the citizens his grandfather looked after so jubilant and prosperous. Of course, he never missed an opportunity to recruit support for an upcoming bill or subtly observe the opinions of the masses, through friendly chatter and casual enquiries. Makalaure accompanied him every afternoon without fail, a beautiful vision of jewels and silk and bright smiles next to his brother’s towering frame, endearing the people to their line.

‘So handsome and polite are those young sons of Feanor!’ the people of Tirion would say, some in admiration, some in shock at their agreeable natures in spite of their father’s sometimes less than pleasant tendencies.

On warm nights of Telperion’s silver glow, when no upper class engagements marked their calendar, the princes Kanafinwe and Nelyafinwe donned colorful clothing and ran barefoot like children towards the marketplace. Their footsteps first echoed through the empty palace halls, then drowned in the delightful symphony of life as they drew near the center of Tirion. There, musicians played lively tunes, bubbling fountains glowed in the light of the Trees and many colored lamps, food vendors fried spicy meats and sticky sweet doughs, and the citizens gathered for revelry.

Kanafinwe danced to the music of others, carefree joy carrying his body and voice. He leaped and spun and bowed, swirling around a pit of fire with other young Elves, taking the children by their hands and twirling the young girls. Most recognized him and called out greetings and praise; he answered, but did not stop dancing.

His goal every night was to get his more stalwart brother to move with him, and every night, he succeeded by the midpoint to the next Mingling. Russandol was strong of spirit and body, full of regal pride, a tall flaming torch of dexterity as he joined the dancers. His feet thundered like a stampede of horses as he tossed his ginger mane and hooted. Many wished for the honor of dancing with the crown prince, but only one bright and carefree gem could ever take his hand.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 19: Trust/Distrust

For @maedhrosmaglorweek day 2

Warnings: Kinda Dark, Angst, Grief, Complex-Probably-Toxic Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Monster Elves

Long was the path they marched.

Dior was dead. Orodreth too. Their father, brothers, Felagund, Findekano, most of their kin, soldiers, allies, friends. Maglor’s adopted sons had grown and flown the nest, one likely never to be seen again, not even in the Halls.

The earth beneath their feet was scorched and dry, the wildlife scarce, and the air stagnant like a rusting pool of blood. Maglor trudged along beside his brother, a Silmaril clenched in his trembling fist. Every step he took jarred it against the searing burn in his palm and sent waves of pain through his body. Maedhros, he was sure, felt the same pain.

He dared not ask his brother if he feared losing his other hand as well. Maedhros would not deign to answer him. The same way he kept the flint stone tucked away in a pouch beneath his cloak, hidden from Maglor’s fingers, and Maglor spent days in silence when asked what he wanted for supper.

On the same nights Maedhros would rest with his naked back to Maglor, allow him to massage his forearms with charred fingers, and present him with small birds crushed to death under a large boot.

Maglor ate the birds and carefully wove their brittle bones into his brother's hair. Maedhros would not light a fire. He rested his Silmaril upon a small stone to illuminate their camp and Maglor did the same.

The stars in the sky dimmed in comparison to their Father's creations. How could a canopy over Arda come close to the light of divine creation, love, devotion, passion, anger, righteousness, madness? It was their making and their ruin. Beheld at last, alone in a wasteland not even Orcs crossed.

Maedhros could bait him to sound with a careful word or a soft look.

‘Come hither, lover,’ his eyes would say and Maglor would laugh until he was breathless, then scream himself raw until the words overflowed his hroä in a babble of hoarse Voice. Maedhros would chant along, carried by the commands whispered in that terrible, seductive voice. He gave himself up to his brother's whims, inane as they were, battered as they made his trembling feä. He yelled his anger into the sky and Maglor crooned him a song of grief and loathing and pity.

They concerned themselves not with the volume of their release; what beings resided here that they could not see coming miles away? What beings cared for their existence in this wretched space?

Long was the path they marched, and lonely was its course.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 18th: Treelight

For @maedhrosmaglorweek 2024 Day 1

Warning: Smut present but not graphically described

..........

Maglor had Treelight in his eyes, this Maedhros knew well. His own reflected said light, burning bright and formidable. Even the Dark Vala Morgoth had not been able to dim his gleam, though he had certainly tried.

But Maglor’s shine was different. It was the innocence of their childhood, the warmth of their parent’s love, the power of his Voice, and the sharp white of their conviction. His gaze carried the history of the Noldor, all the way back to Aman.

When Maglor looked upon him, Maedhros felt purified. That shining stare cleaved straight through his body, illuminated his fȅar, and cleansed his wounds with its radiance.

He lay back upon the feather bed, red hair spread across blue sheets, limbs fully stretched towards the canopy posts. Above him, Maglor moved with grace, rising and falling against him, joining their bodies as their fȅar sang together. His eyes shone brighter than the Arda Sun as they locked upon his brother’s face.

Maedhros closed his eyes and basked in the warmth, imagining a serene summer beach back in Alqualondȅ where they had laid next to the surf and soaked in the Treelight.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 23: Respite

for @maedhrosmaglorweek day 6 prompt respite

Warnings: None! Fluff, Gen, Childhood

“Nely! Nelyooooo!”

Carefully laying down his quill, Nelyafinwe sighed and called out to his younger brother.

“In here, Kano! What do you need!”

“Nothing!” The little Elfling giggled, peeking around the doorway. Nelyafinwe couldn’t help but smile at his gap-toothed grin and rosy cheeks. “I brought you a treat!”

“Oh? And what is it?”

He was eagerly waiting for Kanafinwe to show him whatever he had found. If this was Turco, he would have been worried about being mauled by some wild animal suddenly thrown at his face, but Kano was sweet and thoughtful and just old enough to understand what was and was not an appropriate gift.

“It’s lemonade! And cookies!”

Smiling with pride, Kanafinwe brought him a carefully balanced tray of refreshments, walking comically slow so as not to spill any. Nelyafinwe took it from his small hands into his larger ones, resting it upon his desk.

He looked over his present: freshly squeezed lemonade in a cool pitcher, and round shortbread cookies decorated with mint leaves and colorful flowers.

“Oh, Kano, this looks lovely! Did you make it yourself?” He asked, knowing that his brother had not.

“No,” the Elfling replied, giggling and looking at the ground “Atya made it. He was going to bring it to you but I wanted to do it.”

Nelyafinwe cooed at this, patting his younger brother’s dark head and thanking him. As Kanafinwe turned to leave, he suddenly asked:

“Have you had any, yet?”

Kano turned around, not looking him in the eyes.

“No,” he whispered, clearly lying.

Nelyo smiled. He could indulge his favorite brother, just this once.

“Well, why don’t you sit down and share this with me? I could use a break, and I want to hear the song your tutor taught you.”

Squealing with glee, Kanafinwe ran out of the room to grab his lyre. His older brother smiled, making himself comfortable on the floor and took a cooling sip of lemonade.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Maemags Week 2024 Feb 20: Himring and the Gap

for @maedhrosmaglorweek day 3

Warnings: This one is light and almost fluffy, no warnings! POV outsider + slight songfic + Gen 

She was gathering firewood in the woods when she heard it. A voice, singing one of the winter hymns the children in her village favored, beautifully tongued words of whimsy floating through the trees towards her. Her feet drifted towards the music before she could stop herself, her small pile of kindling forgotten in a snowdrift. 

When she came upon the river bank, she stared in shock. There at the waterside were two Elven warriors with their backs to her. One sat upon a boulder, cleaning a gutted fish with a skin of water, a broadsword across his back. The other stood behind his - for he sang in the most angelic male tenor she had ever heard - companion, saber set aside, delicately weaving lenten roses into copper hair. 

“I was following the pack all swallowed in their coats, with scarves of red tied round their throats. To keep their little heads from falling in the snow, when I turned ‘round and there you go! And, darling, you would fall, and turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.”

Her eyes drifted shut. She listened for some time as he serenaded both his companion and their secret audience. The song finished and she opened her eyes to see the singer complete his weaving; his long, pale fingers left a perfect crown of white roses atop the ginger head. The adornment was breathtaking in its effect, simple yet strangely compelling in its delicacy on such a large, capable looking warrior. 

The seated Elve spoke - at first, she thought it was the creaking of some tree bough or a gust of wind, his voice was so low and rough - and she could not understand the language he used. He gestured with an arm sans hand and she gasped- 

They leapt to their feet as one, turning to her with weapons drawn before she could blink. 

“My Lords! I wished not to startle you so, I only wished to compliment the music. Your voice is a thing of wonder, My Lord,” she addressed the singer, whom she now saw was possessed of both a much shorter stature and an exceptionally beautiful face to match his voice. 

Her hands were held far apart, foraging basket dangling from her left elbow, the bow across her back clearly meant for hunting small game and not combat. She hoped that her decidedly human ears and rough clothes would discourage them from any anger. 

After lowering their weapons, the shorter Elve gave his thanks and enquired as to her business in the forest. She informed him of her desire to find a suitable yule log, and wished them both a pleasant year, before wandering back to her sad pile of sticks now half buried by the falling snow. 

The walk back to the village was long and quiet. The Elven warriors and their companions had protected their lands from Orc invasions since her grandmother was a child – some small parties made it through their initial defenses, but never as far as the woods on the southern side where the river ran. It was why she had no fighting weapons with her, and, perhaps, why two such fastidious and deadly creatures - processed of superior senses, too, she was sure - had not noticed her lingering some twenty paces from them. 

She had accidentally snuck up on Lord Maedhros of Himring and his brother Lord Maglor of the Perilous Gap! Upon the grace of the land may her grandmother not hit her with a shoe when she returns.