#maglor through history

[sesamenom]

more on the maglor through history not-really-au: the Dagor Dagorath happens in 2022 of the Seventh Age. Melkor drops into aman and lands where mordor used to be (which is now approximately the middle of the mediterranean. i'm going to assume he can swim) and trudges over to valinor to fight the Host.

on the way there he crosses over the West of middle-earth (western europe) where the last elves/only line of defense is Maglor, Daeron and Cirdan.

(tumblr is cropping weirdly so click for quality/full image)

maglor as pictured above is actually partway-through-dagorath-preparations maglor and not during-dagorath maglor because during-dagorath maglor is basically just Regular maglor.

out of all of them daeron probably took to modern fashion the best? Maglor just likes being the fashionable one but Daeron actually likes that his jacket has a hood now. he dyes his hair various colors so he can pass any Weird Maiar Hair stuff off as just a fashion thing, and maia-shapeshifts to hide his Elf Eyes and maia face markings. also he Aggressively Flutes at melkor while wearing his sweater vest.

cirdan's modern outfit is just his normal one slightly adapted to blend in better. also he's had that 25,000-year-old belt since cuivienen and has ship-of-theseused it at least forty times. he went with a slightly less dramatic version of the maglor route to hide his Elf Eyes (regular sunglasses).

[polutrope]

5-sentences prompt: "Waking up to the sound of an explosion never gets easier."

“If anything, it gets harder,” the young soldier mused as he wiped the grime of the trenches from his face. “They start to wake you even when they are not there, when they are only figments of your imagination. Fear whittles us down until we are nothing but a mindless weapon.”

Daeron twitched his lips by way of acknowledgement, though the man's attention was not on him; then his eyes found Maglor’s on the opposite bunk and held them as a moment of understanding passed between them. They had both seen their share of battle over the ages, and yet even their ancient memories could recall no war like this one, the first war of the age of machines.

[send me a sentence]

[sakasakiii]

not really a modern au but more like a weird future timeline thing where beach hermit maglor Hibernates™ all through the 2nd and 3rd ages & misses the last boats to Valinor.... thus resulting in him skulking about history until he ends up living among modern day humans haha?? the kicker is that he one day finds an abandoned baby thats all-too-suspiciously like a certain dead brother and becomes a single dad-younger brother-adopted guardian person...

i wrote a few pages of this back in 2022 but never really thought abt it further after i started posting less frequently hahaha.... heres just some feel good domestic sketches of this AU bc i miss drawing modern clothes 🤭 i have sooo many thoughts about it that i couldnt fit into these doodles !! its quite a lot of yapping so feel free to skip past the cut haha

assorted au thoughts:

i planned for maglor to eventually find all 6 of his brothers one by one through the power of Accidental Child Acquisition ✨ example: he'd spot a kid lurking around some woods near his home and eventually realise said wild child living amongst stray dogs is a bit too similar to celegorm

i just couldnt fit in the time to draw that this round... maybe next time!

though he's raising reincarnated-Maedhros, i think it makes more sense for him to give him a modern name and not explicitly call him Nelyo/Maitimo/Russandol just bc he'd not want to get his own hopes up or shove said identity onto the kid

(the occasional 'hey Nelyo' does slip out by accident from time to time however)

i think as Mae-the-kid grows up he will in time start to remember bits and pieces of his original identity? with the nicer familial things (like valinor, his brothers, feanor and nerdanel) first, and then the darker things (kinslayings, angband, war) once he's grown up that Maglor will struggle explaining or even helping him through

i promise this is a wholesome au 😭

side characters include a high-strung but good guy policeman named Officer Borden who's very suspicious of Maglor bc of all the random kids he keeps adopting.... and his younger brother Farren, who happens to be Maglor's scholarly coworker

as well as Maglor's next door neighbour Morgan, a witch-woman married to some guy named Hugh... she's got 3 kids who visit from time to time but from what Maglor's heard, the oldest son is followed by misfortune and has supposedly never met his youngest sister...?

credit to Ted Nasmith and Cartoon Network for some assets used in the doodles :D

[thesummerestsolstice]

My Headcanon Crafts for the House of Feanor:

Nerdanel: a sculptor; about the best in all of Valinor. Many of her early sculptures were praised, but also seen as a bit strange because they looked so real, but no one could identify any model they'd been based off of. Later, it would be recognized that she'd sculpted several of her own children, long before they were born.

Maedhros: an actor. Back in Valinor, he often played romantic leads in comedies and tragedies alike. He was very dramatic back in the years of trees, but got more subdued in Middle-Earth for... obvious reasons. A few of the posters for plays he was in made their way to Middle-Earth and got passed around Himring like contraband.

Maglor: a bard. While he often composed his own songs, he was also one of those charged with memorizing the old oral history of the Quendi– the elven equivalent of like, being able to memorize and recite the Iliad. Much of this early Elvish history was almost lost by the end of the First Age, and Maglor attempted to preserve it by writing it down. Eventually, those books ended up saved in Rivendell's library.

Celegorm: a hunter in Orome's train. Was famous for his ability to hit quickly moving targets through the thick forests of Valinor, even when mounted. He also enjoyed making various things out of the pelts, teeth, claws, and antlers of his kills. He's made very nice fur coats for several of his siblings and cousins.

Caranthir: a fiber artist; mostly focusing on weaving and embroidery. He's not sure whether to feel flattered or vaguely worried by all the Miriel comparisons. He insisted on making most of his family's formal clothing because all of Feanor's kids can get at least a little craft-related hubris. As a treat.

Curufin: a smith. His father was most famous for his jewelry, but Curufin would come to be known mostly for his weapons. They were so reliable that many of them lasted until the Third Age. There are rumors he poured some of his soul into the weapons he made for his brothers. But those are only rumors.

Amras & Amrod: painters. They specialized in incredibly detailed landscape paintings. I say "they" because all their works were done together; Amrod would make the sketch and darker linework and Amras would add the colors and shading. Their work was often very nostalgic and peaceful, with bright watercolors and gentle shadows.

Bonus! Feanor saved a lot of his kids' work from when they were really young and just starting their crafts. It's all what you'd expect from a small child's art, but Feanor still acts like they're masterpieces. His kids all think it's super embarrassing but he's really proud of them.

Headcanons for Finwe and his Children, the House of Fingolfin, the House of Finarfin, and the rest of the House of Finwe. Thanks for asking about Finwe's grandkids @hyperlexia-1 :)

[victorie552]

Ok, so Noldolantë, "The Fall of the Noldor" is a lament composed by Maglor about what happened before, during and after First Kinslaying at Alqualondë. It's such a good song that it's played regularly in Aman and Valar listen to it often (I swear, I swear it was in the Silmarillion I just can't find it now).

It's also a more or less common fanon that Maglor continues writing Noldolante through the whole First Age. Makes sense - it's about fall of the Noldor, and Noldor did a lot of falling back then.

Headcannon time: So my first thought was that Noldolante must a long, long, long epic of a song. So it probably has many parts, right? Iliad has 24 books/parts, somehow I think Noldolante would be at least just as long, and there are longer epics. And again, just like Iliad, unless you're a scholar, in the daily life you don't really listen to/read the whole thing, just reread and repeat the most dramatic fragments. What I'm trying to impress upon you all is that the story would have different segments, or chapters, if you will.

And if Maglor continues to write the story during the FA, there would absolutely be a moment in the lament where the OG Noldolante becomes Noldolante 2, and even Noldolante 3. There may be the same musical motif or something, I decided that Maglor IS that good of a bard to keep it all consistent enough so you know it's all the same story, but the style changes a lot - it's been 400 years in the making, let The Music Elf have fun!

So, Point 1: Many, Many Parts, basically Maglor's FA WIP

My second thought was that, while Feanor invented his alphabet, elves learned their history mostly through oral tradition aka songs and spoken stories. Noldolante is definitely a historical record, where a historical event was archived for future generations.

(It was a also a way to deal with grief, guilt and blame Maglor and all Noldor have faced regarding First Kinslaying - free therapy! But that's not what this post is about)

Archived.

My 2.5 thought was that Noldolante isn't just recallings of how pretty and horrified the beach looked during the murdering or how mad and sorrowful the sea was at everyone during the voyage or even how awesome and charismatic Feanor looked during his speeches that every single Noldo was ready to fight Morgoth barehanded in his name - no, this is a record of who killed who, who got killed by whom, and how.

Noldor and Teleri knew each other (were friends, even!) before the First Kinslaying, so I'm confident that after a lot of interviews, detective work, and cross-referencing, Maglor could and would create a very good... name list. Practically every Noldo and Teler present during First Kinslaying would get a stanza in a song, more if he killed someone, most if he killed many people. Killers and killed would show up twice, first in a fragment listing the killers and their victims, then in a part listing the victims and their murderers. Basically it's the same thing twice, but from different POVs. With when, where and how included.

(It was seen to be in bad taste to compare kills during Maglor's Regency, when most of his interview-part work happened. People did it anyway. There were a Saddest Kill, Funniest Kill, and Weirdest Kill discusions. There was a Tier List. These were weird times to be a Feanorian Noldo.)

(It WAS in Bad Taste, but at least people talked about it. I cannot stress enough how much free therapy this lament provided)

(Little did they know, when Teleri started getting reembodied in Aman, they had very similar discussions, but more in a "I can't believe he killed me like THAT" way. Long, long, long after the First Age. Noldolante is a gift that keeps giving)

So, Maglor had all the historical grith and no common shame to create a "We Killed All These People And We Feel Bad About It" banger of a song, and every Noldo had a very personal reason to at least remember the fragments they are in. It's a hit on a scale never seen before.

(I'm not sure how to tackle the issue of Nolofinweans and Arafinweans learning about Noldolante after crossing the Ice. But there were discussions. There was anger, there was "????", there was controversy. Basically, the song got bigger and bigger rep no matter what your opinion on it was. By the time of Mereth Aderthad it was an important cultural and political piece and at least Fingon's forces were included in the main song. It had parodies.)

Point 2: Archive Function/Kill count storage. Cultural phenomen, every Noldo included

This is where my personal nonsense begins: Main Noldolante was done, there was nothing more to say about First Kinslaying, all killings and deaths were well documented.

But the Siege started. And the Noldor kept dying.

It was less dramatic than it sounded - between the big battles the siege was maintained, but orc raids also happened and sometimes one to few Noldor died in skirmishes. The legal procedure was to document the death of a fellow elf and send a word to king Fingolfin. The cultural procedure, technically started by Feranorians but adapted by many more, was to send the name, common characteristics and cause of death to Maglor's Gap. After few months, King Fingolfin would send reinforcements, short condolences and financial compensation if they had family. After few months, family of an elf would also receive a personal lament for them and a place for them in a Noldolante.

Yes, every lament Maglor created in that time was technically part of the Noldolante. Noldolante 1.5, if you will. Laments make in that time were very customized, and simpler than Noldolante Main, but were still considered a part of the same song. Of course, nobody was expected to know and remember laments for every single Noldo, younger Noldor born in Beleriand could even only know fragments about their family members. Only Maglor would ever know Noldolante in full, but it was understood that everyone had their place in The Song.

The results of Great Battles were harder to document, but Maglor did that. Of course, Dagor Bragollach was hard on him personally, but he worked his way through.

(High King Fingon forbade creating laments for his father. There were no songs for Fingolfin. Apart from in Noldolante, of course. Of course. Maglor did not share the lament with anyone, but he sat long hours and many nights with a blank paper before him, looking at the candle flame and thinking of the past and the future. The song unsung, but there)

Nirnaeth was... Maglor was never more hated and more approached at the same time than then. Still, Noldolante grew and grew, as if people knew the end was near.

It was Second Kinslaying that destroyed the myth of Maglor's song. Feanorians didn't know the Sindar they killed, but surely, they couldn't just left their names unmentioned like they did with orcs? So, Noldor talked, but the battle happened in caves - it wasn't uncommon to find dead bodies in empty rooms, with no witnesses to what happened. Surviving Sindar didn't want to share any names, even when Maglor strong-armed some into talking with him, and good for them. Maglor made a big lament anyway. Maglor, wild, with no shame and dead brothers, with legacy crumbling around him. Noldolante, with holes.

After Third Kinslaying, Noldor didn't want to talk. Lament for Sirion didn't have any names. Clearly, songs weren't a way to go anymore, it was always about live witnesses. And so Maglor raised the twins.

Lament for Maedhros was sung repeatedly. There was no one to hear it.

Point 3: Only Maglor knows Noldolante in full. But that doesn't matter, because everyone knows the important part: the Noldolante is finished. The Star of Hope rises in the West and the story goes on. The Fall has ended.

[eccentricmya]

I had this sudden thought... What if the bits about kidnap fam in the silm were added because Elrond is actually delusional and desperate for parental love?

Nobody found the twins in the cave. They grew into this feral eldritch abomination, cut off from civilization and given up for dead by everyone. During the war of wrath, they stumble out of their nomadic dwelling and are discovered by the host of Aman. They are told of the third kinslaying (after they learn spoken language, since they communicated mostly through images and feelings sent via osanwe) and the fate of their kinsmen and ultimately, taken under Gil-Galad's wing.

Years later, when Elros has chosen to masquerade as a normal mannish creature and swanned off to his island, Elrond encounters a wandering Maglor. He recognises the lament he sings, the Noldolantë, and the ruined hand he connects to the Thieves of the Silmaril he was told about. Elrond is tempted to punish this kinslayer for all the grief he has caused him, but pity stays his hand. They spend some months together, Elrond trying to bring back Maglor to his right mind. But the Noldo speaks of nothing but his overwhelming guilt — for the ones he killed, for the ones he orphaned, and for the brothers he could not follow in death. Elrond feels like they are kindred spirits, forsaken by their family, doomed to a lonely existence.

Yet one winter eve, Maglor disappears in the dead of the night. Leaving behind a song of apology whose notes linger in the air long after he is gone.

Elrond is devastated. He cannot survive another leaving him. So he builds this fantasy in his head. Where he and Elros were found by Maglor in their little cave, years ago when they still wished to be found. And Maglor would take the twins with him to Maedhros, the brother whom Maglor loved like Elrond loves Elros, yet still lost to death, just like Elrond would lose his own. The four would dwell together for long years to come and love would grow between them.

And this fantasy is what history recorded. So that Elrond and Elros would grow up loved, and Maglor would still have family on the shores he wandered.

[sombredancer]

My tribute to "The Silmarillion", part 2. Embroidery of Silmarils and their fate. To the Sea One Silmaril was thrown by Maglor in the depths of sea because it had burnt his hands unbearable. You can see here the ocean waves, the star of the House of Fёanor, Maglor's hair, Maglor's hands burnt to the flesh and the Everlasting light of Silmaril in them.

To the Earth The other Silmaril was buried in the core of the Earth with it's host, Maedhros, because of the pain that jewel caused. You can see here the red wave of magma swallowing Maedhros, two white lilies as a symbol of his death, the star of the House of Fёanor, Maedhros' hair, his golden hand instead of missing one, the left hand burnt to the flesh and the Everlasting light of Silmaril shining through his fist.

Arda Envinyanta The third Silmaril is in the hands of his creator, Fёanor. It`s told that at the end of times he will resurrect and break his jewels by himself in order to return the Everlasting Light to Arda Healed. You can see here some blooming flowers of Arda Healed, the star of the House of Fёanor, Fёanor's hair with the flower hairpin (each flower of which represents one of his seven sons), his hands adorned with rings and the Everlasting light of Silmaril above them.

For more entourage photos and close-ups you can visit my AO3:

[balrogballs]

Just uploaded Chapter 5/5 of Cast in Stone, the fic I made this (hellish) Tumblr to talk about and one I've put way too much effort into, including this needlessly intricate piece of cover art! 35k words of chaos, archival silences, found family, healing, and coming to terms!

"Family too, Maglor knew just as well, was another mirage — a beautiful one, certainly, but still a desperate construct of necessity. People called each other family out of tradition or shared blood, but too often it was circumstance that bound them, not some innate bloodborne tether. But that, he thought, running a practiced hand through the tangled hairs near Elrond’s temple, did not make the bond itself any less real."

A re-embodied Maedhros and Maglor arrive in Imladris with only fragmented memories of their final years — and find that Elrond had built an enormous statue glorifying their redemption, yet omitted their final fates from the histories he wrote as a loremaster. A Return to Imladris fic with elements of magic realism, postcoloniality and the politics of memory, also featuring the youthful sleuths, Legolas and a teenaged Aragorn.

[lamemaster]

Beyond Reason

Request: @liar-anubiass-blog Can I request some Glorfindel? Period, with a happy ending. I just want to hug this Lord so tightly🤗 "The reader is from a super closed people (like Martin's Valyrians). But she somehow meets Glorfindel and they fall in love. But this is completely unacceptable for her family, so much so that they would rather kill her than allow her to mix blood with a stranger. After learning about this and after attempts at negotiation, the elf helps her escape (the reader helps and completely agrees). And so Glorfindel, one evening after the wedding, worries that because of him, the reader is cursed by his own people and family.

Genre: fluff

Summary: Loving the Lord of the Golden Flower was a act beyond reason.

AN: Thank you for requesting this! I loved coming up with the reader's backstory. That said, I did make some changes to the story, but hopefully you like it!

Next up- Yandere Maglor/Maeglin x Reader Fall trope event list

Of all Middle-earth’s secrets, the Thilnar remain the most elusive to both the short-lived Secondborn and even the immortal Firstborn of Ilúvatar.

In days long past, before the Quendi ventured west to the Undying Lands, five great Elven clans shaped their histories: the Noldor, Sindar, Vanyar, Teleri, and the hidden Thilnar.

Unlike their kin, the Thilnar were known as masters of the mind. Skilled in enchantments and illusion, they alone escaped the clutches of Melkor, concealing themselves beneath his gaze in the vast, shadowed plains of Rhûn. They were the unheard note of Ilúvatar’s song, a secret strength hidden even from the Valar.

The Thilnar bore the beauty of the Firstborn, yet with bodies hardened by labor and hair like fire, a fierce, unearthly red.

Among their number, Mahtan and his brood were most renowned, clever enough to blend in among the Noldor, disappearing into legends that shielded their clan’s existence.

It was perhaps this connection to distant kin that led the eldest Fëanorian to seek his mother Nerdanel’s clan. And there, amid a colony of redheads so like himself, he found a piece of himself he’d long forgotten. A jarring sight even for him.

“Oldon, what do you have for me?” you ask, stroking your eagle’s soft feathers. He shifts on his perch, his talons clicking against your arm, but his claws are empty.

No letter. Again.

It’s the second month without a response from Glorfindel, much to your irritation. Huffing, you bury your frustration by coddling Oldon, who, unlike a certain someone has at least not forgotten you.

Your meeting with the Balrog Slayer had been an unexpected affair, a result of an errand the elders had entrusted to you.

It began with a letter from Rivendell’s Lord Elrond the Peredhel, whom your cousin Maedhros had once, rather broadly put, “fostered.”

The letter was abrupt, a somber summons. Armed with a small fortune in protective amulets, you had set off westward to check on distant kin.

But what awaited you was hardly a simple family visit. Instead, you found your nephew a wraith-like Maglor, mind shattered, wandering as if Ilúvatar himself had abandoned him. The amulets did their work, silencing his pained wailing, much to Rivendell’s collective relief, Elrond included.

You were halfway through securing your maddened nephew to your saddle when he twisted with surprising strength and bit another horse’s ear, sparking mayhem in the stables.

“What the fuck, Maglor?” you yelled, shoving a scroll between his teeth to muffle his groans of “Maedhros,” as his grimy hands tangled in your hair.

Distant kin, you mused bitterly, were an absolute nightmare.

That’s when you met him—Glorfindel, the fabled Balrog Slayer, storming towards you with the wrath of an oncoming tempest. “Have you no sense?” he thundered, moving to calm the distressed horse with one hand, his gaze burning with barely-contained fury.

He was… huge. Towering and golden, every inch of him exuding a presence that seemed to fill the stables, leaving barely any space for anyone else. Had he consumed the Balrog to achieve such a size? Or was this simply the nature of Western Elves?

You found yourself staring longer than polite, only to snap back to reality as you glared at Maglor, silently cursing him for sabotaging the grand first impression you’d hoped to make.

“It wasn’t me,” you muttered, gesturing toward Maglor, now conveniently gagged with the scroll and feigning innocence.

Glorfindel cast you a quizzical, unimpressed look, his arms crossed, brow arched.

So much for a romantic first meeting.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demand now, gripping his collar and pulling him toward you. Glorfindel stumbles slightly, his composure slipping under the unexpected intensity.

“I thought you’d died once again or something,” you mutter, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration and embarrassment mix, a maddening hindrance to your carefully held anger.

By Eru’s grace, you’d found the perfect excuse to venture to the Valley of Imladris, claiming you were merely escorting Maglor to visit his foster son.

After successfully entrusting a much more manageable Maglor to Elrond’s care, you wasted no time tracking down your elusive lover the golden-haired lord now looking at you with a sheepish, almost boyish expression, a soft hiccup escaping him in a nervous tick you’d come to know well.

"I... forgive me," he stammers, his usual commanding demeanor nowhere to be found. His voice catches as he shifts uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes. He looks down, studying his own hands as if seeking some answer there. "I was being an idiot."

You cross your arms, though your heart aches to close the space between you. "What’s brewing in that stubborn mind of yours, Glorfindel? Just tell me." You take his hands, feeling the weight of them in your grasp.

Despite everything, you feel giddy, like an elfling beneath the open sky. Being with him did it to you.

He hesitates, then speaks, his voice barely audible over the steady rush of Rivendell’s river. “The Thilnar don’t… they don’t marry outside their clan, do they?” He glances up briefly, his bright eyes veiled in pain.

“Elrond told me… about excommunication, about the abandonment of kin,” he continues, his voice breaking. “How they erase you strip away your name, your home, your family…”

He pauses, struggling for words, his lips trembling. "I can’t do that to you,” he whispers, voice choked with unshed tears. "How could I knowing, I would be the one to take you from them? You would lose so much to be with me. Your people, your birthright everything you’ve known and loved, everything that shaped you." He bites down on the words, as if they burn, his gaze dropping back to the ground.

He pulls one hand free to swipe roughly at his eyes, the Balrog Slayer reduced to a vulnerable figure standing before you, every layer of armor stripped away. "I would never forgive myself if I caused that pain." He lets out a tremulous breath, and his voice is softer, raw, almost pleading. "But I can’t stop wanting this. Wanting… you."

It wasn’t an unfounded fear. Mahtan himself had faced it when he wed a Noldor. Others had been scrubbed from the clan scrolls, their names erased, exiled from history.

The Thilnar bound themselves closely to their own, and to step beyond those bonds meant forfeiting all ties to kin and clan.

The thought had crossed your mind, too. You loved your people, their ageless ways, their wisdom, their tradition. The surviving Thilnar were older than the decaying ruins of Utumno itself, and you bore the weight of their history with pride.

But truthfully, all the glory and mystery of the Thilnar paled beside the Lord of the Golden Flower.

If the choice was between eternity with your clan or with Glorfindel, you knew without question where your heart lay.

Years spent studying amulets and spells had taught you many things, yet no magic or incantation could sway the heart’s will. Cupping Glorfindel’s reddened face, you wipe away the tears from his cheeks, which are now flushed in embarrassment.

“I chose you long ago, you beautiful fool,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly as laughter and warmth slip into the words.

You watch hope flicker to life in his eyes, and the sight stirs something deep within you.“It was always you. Beyond the Thilnar, beyond the Sun and Moon, beyond any reason or tradition that dared to stand in my way.”

You pause, letting your thumb brush over his cheek, grounding yourself in the quiet strength of his presence. “Even if it meant leaving behind every part of my past... my choice would never change. You are where I belong.”

A tremor runs through you as the confession spills out, unguarded and fiercely true. “There is nothing I would not give up to be with you, Glorfindel. Not my clan, not my name, not even the home I once thought was everything. You are my home now. And I would choose you, again and again, across every life and every star.”

Not the first confession, nor the last, but perhaps the truest.

Like a blooming sunflower drawn irresistibly toward the Sun, Glorfindel pulls you into a kiss, his touch warm, golden, as though catching fire from within.

Of your kin, at least, you still possessed the ones who were beautifully, gloriously doomed. Though whether Maglor could bless a marriage was doubtful; he’d sooner curse it by proximity alone.

[sesamenom]

more from the maglor through history au (for modern maglor)!

his mental health has improved enough that he needs to wear sunglasses now to not alarm/injure people with his super bright Treelight eyes. (especially when he's extra emotional because Finwean Glowy Eyes is a problem when you're surrounded by Men)

he picked up the glove because his silmaril-burns never really healed. when he's not wearing it he usually sticks his right hand in his pocket

alternate version:

[saurongorthaur9]

I love ur posts about sauron💖💖

Do you think if sauron had to fight all 7 sons of feanor, would he win? He's most powerful creature in middle earth after morgoth right?

And whatever skills they have (politics, singing, administration, hunting...) sauron has every single one of them.

Aw, I'm glad you enjoy my hyperfixated ramblings on my favorite Dark Lord <3

As for the hypothetical scenario, I think your question hinges on a couple things: 1) what "fighting" means, and 2) at what point in time it's happening.

One, we know that Sauron isn't the best at physical combat. The few times we see him participating in some type of physical combat, he doesn't come out on top. I think if all seven Feanorians ganged up on him at once in physical combat, the Feanorians would probably win.

On the other hand, if it was more of a political battle, or something other than a physical combat, I think Sauron would have the edge. We know that's the battlefield where Sauron truly excels. We know he can be outwitted there - we see it happen in LOTR - but that takes most of Middle-earth absolutely greatest and wisest minds to do. But I think Sauron would have the edge over the Feanorians for several reasons.

I think Sauron would find the Feanorians fairly easy to manipulate. First, they've got the constraints of their Oath, which Sauron would absolutely use against them. And second, from what we know of the individual Feanorian's weaknesses, I think Sauron would be able to exploit those. Maedhros tends to be too trusting; it's how Morgoth captured him in the first place, and he also trusted Ulfang, which was a large reason why the Feanorians lost the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Then you've got the three Cs, who all tend to be rash, impetuous, easily angered, and not great about thinking through their plans. Sauron, who is known for his patience and using the rashness of others against them, would absolutely eat those three for breakfast. Maglor's flaw seems to be that he's too passive; I think he'd be harder for Sauron to manipulate, but he tends to just follow his other brothers even when he doesn't agree with what they're doing. And we really don't know too much about the Ambarussa, but they seem similar to Maglor in that they tend to be more passive and just follow their more impetuous brothers.

All of this to say: I think Sauron would have an absolute heyday playing mind games with them, manipulating them, turning them against one another, and generally playing with them like a cat with a mouse.

A second, more minor, point is what time in history this hypothetical fight is taking place. If it is right after the Feanorians arrive in Beleriand, I think Sauron would have an easier time with them than later in the First Age when they've established themselves and are acting a little less impetuously after they've lost a few battles. I still think Sauron would win if it was a fight other than physical, but I think he might have a bit of a trickier time with it.

TLDR: Sauron would lose in a physical fight against all seven sons of Feanor at once, but if it was some form of mental or political fight, the Feanorians would be toast.

Thanks for the ask!

[aylen-san]

Night slowly descended upon the world, enveloping the jungle in silence, broken only by the sounds of insects and distant animal cries. Maglor sat motionless, as if part of the old cliff, but his mind wandered through the dark depths of memories.

His thoughts repeatedly returned to those he had lost: his brothers who fell in the bloody struggle for the Silmarils, the elves who, in their pride, defied fate, and the humans who came after them and brought new tragedies. He remembered how they fought, loved, built, and destroyed. In every step they took was hope for a better future, but each time they fell victim to their own pride.

He sighed, and his gaze turned once more to the creatures that might one day take the place of humans.

Hours passed, and finally one of the creatures cautiously began to play with a stone, tapping it against another. It looked helpless in its attempts, but there was a glimmer of some kind of awareness. Maglor suddenly felt something strange—a faint glimmer of hope. He knew that this new form of life, if given a chance, might find its own way.

But in that hope, there was also something bitter. How many people had he seen in his eternal life? How many lives had he touched with his voice, with his music? And how many of them had died, repeating the same mistakes?

"This land remembers more than you can imagine," he whispered into the night air. "You will take up the fire again, build cities again, and destroy everything once more. Such is your path."

Suddenly, a roar echoed in the distance—powerful, deep, and ancient. The creatures sitting by the tree, caught off guard, hurriedly scattered into the thick underbrush. Maglor remained in place, his cold eyes watching as darkness claimed the jungle.

"But for now, you have time," he muttered faintly. "Maybe this time history will turn out differently."

He stood up, feeling the weight of all the ages he had lived, and before turning back into the depths of a world that was no longer his home, he took one last look at the disappearing silhouettes of the creatures. And though his soul was scorched by eternal sorrow, in that moment, a shadow of desire flickered within— that at least some of them might reach the other world that his friends and brothers once aspired to.

Maglor took a deeper breath and turned to the horizon, where the first stars were breaking through. They were silent witnesses to his long journey, just as he was to theirs. In this world, no elves remained, but their songs might still find their listeners in the future.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Elrond and Elros Series Ideas 2

For a framing devise, which maybe shouldn’t be revealed until maybe halfway through the first season, I think it’s probably Elrond explaining it to Bilbo as he tries to compile his songs and history extracts of the Old Tales and takes full advantage of any primary sources he can find. The story is interspersed with Elrond packing things away for his journey west, you see things like murials of ships coming to life at the start of an episode and rings being taken out of their boxes suddenly switching to a scene where you can see them on the hands of one of the characters of the show.

As a battle scene with Maedhros taking out an entire battalion of orcs single handedly (pun fully intended) fades out you can see the same sword carefully taken out of its intricate scabbard and despite the layer of dust it is sharp as ever as it is cradled in hands that clearly aren’t the scarred one’s from the scene. The finale absolutely has to end with Elrond balancing on the prow of the ship to Valinor with a soft smile on his face and one tear rolling down his cheek as he gazes at the horizon.

The framing will also serve to explain why most of the first half of the season or so, four or five episodes, are in a more broad strokes epic style with very few little details or casual dialogue, mostly it’s political and military discussions, it comes across as if it’s more a story that’s been passed down because it’s not from Elrond’s point of view. It’s mostly a large scale kind of story with big battle scenes and political drama.

This is juxtaposed with the clips of the twins and their relationship with the Feanorians in the camp and Maglor and Maedhros in which we see Elrond learning how to heal because he’s the only one there that can and there’s loads of really sweet emotional moments where it looks like Maedhros is finally starting to accept them and you get much more dialogue with little bits of humour as well because this is what Elrond remembers.

Basically it feels like an entirely different show about two feared war lords letting down their barriers in order to try and form a tentative bond with these scared children as they grow up and it’s a really moving subplot next to the main plot of armies fighting dragons and Balrogs and kings and lords trying to form stable alliances in the unnavigable situation that is elf politics (especially the Finarfin and Gil Galad High Kingship of The Noldor situation because there is a lot of mileage in that one.)

The first time we see the Third Kinslaying properly is a bit later in the season, there’s vague flashes that allude to it in the twin’s nightmares, is Oropher explaining to Thranduil that they mustn’t fully trust the Noldor which comes on the heels of intense political manoeuvring the entire episode between him and Gil Galad. He refers to how they destroyed two of their people’s cities and ended the line of their royal family in one brutal attack. The way this scene is done should definitely open up with warning bells ringing louder and louder as the camera cuts from Mirkwood to Sirion and the most menacing music possible plays over the Feanorians entering.

It absolutely has to be an intensely brutal scene, maybe not in the graphic violence sense but emotionally the destruction has to be devastating, buildings set on fire, maybe a toy in a child’s limp hand or something like that; it’s horrifying is the point. Elwing flings herself into the sea and it ends with Oropher looking over the burning wreckage from the distance, just a few hours too late, a thriving settlement reduced to nothingness in the space of a day.

The Sindar all believe the twins to be dead and no one ever speaks the name of Elwing’s child or children, it isn’t specified, because it’s such a dreadful tragedy; they don’t show Elrond and Elros as Elwing’s sons until the end of the first season when we see two six year olds hiding in a wardrobe in a burning building and suddenly there’s footsteps and the door is thrown open to reveal Maglor stained with blood.

It’s referenced previously that the twins guardians have a dark reputation and it may have already been said that they are the sons of Feanor who were responsible for the massacre so it’s not a leap for it to be confirmed that they found the twins through dubious means but this is the first time people who don’t have the background knowledge will see where the twins came from.

Elros might brandish a sword at him but Maglor slowly takes off his helmet off and tells him they won’t come to any harm. Eventually he manages to coax them out and takes them in his arms and just as the camera pans out over the wreckage of Sirion once more you can hear the hushed voices of a conversation something like this; Maedhros: Elwing’s sons? Truly Maglor? Maglor: Well who else will take them? We killed their mother after all.

[tar-thelien]

My Kidnap fam is getting rewritten, and here is chapter 1

Summary:

Elrond and Elros gets picked up by the Feanorian, some of which are on the bridge of falling into complete insanity. Maedhros is tired of everything, and far from stable, Maglor do as he wants and Erestor watches from as safe of a distance as he can. In the end, they are all just doing their best to stay alive - and love tends to grow slowly in treacherous places.

The third kinslaying happens, Amrod dies

Words:1329

Elrond´s POV

El looked up at the imposing form of the Valarauko with hair of fire, as he trembled behind his brother, who he hoped wouldn´t blame him.

Valarauko. That was what his Ada had called the beasts who had attacked his home, Gondolin, and since this tall fire Raug had attacked his home too, it must be one of the Moringotto´s creatures as well, at the least, it would be in league with him.

And when this frightening beast with imposing mithril eyes, curled back its lips to expose those gleaming, wicked white fangs both he and his brother almost fell into the dirt if not for the pole of the tent behind them kept them standing as the Raug before them threw his heavy fur over them.

“Maitimo! Where art thou!?” Shouted someone loudly from the outside, and the Raug, - ´Maitimo? He did not know enough of his father´s language to know what it meant, but he was sure it was something dreadful and bloody´ - who had found them and forced him along with him from the hiding cave that Glossien had told them to stay in, abruptly left the tent. The opening was guarded by one of the red star soldiers, who shot the two brothers a piercing stare with frowning eyebrows.

“Where are our brothers?” they heard the Valarauko ask in its rumbling voice.

“... They´re waiting ahead of us. They said we should ride towards Amon Ereb and that they would meet us when the time comes.”

-o0o-

The sound of shouting and fighting was so loud that it echoed through the narrow stone streets and the little boy felt a surge of panic, suffocating him as they were ushered through a backdoor that opened into a labyrinth of twisting uneven steps hewn out of the rock that led down to the forest.

“You know that we can't leave without Emel!” his brother cried in such a loud voice that the little boy winced. He was sure that some of the monsters must have heard that, and now they would come to kill them too.

“She will meet us at the cave.”

“NO! How do you know that?” said the brother with a frown, and the little boy began sobbing bitterly, the miserable cries escaping from his small throat and wracking his whole frame in despair.

“Shush!” Glossien hissed and she did not waste any more time, rather she lifted the weeping child up into her arms and tightly grasped his brother´s hand before silently hurrying off, “we have to find a safer place, your Naneth will come when this is over!”

After they had been shown under a small waterfall into the cave to hide a red haired elf showed up, proving Glossien right that someone had been following them, running after them with a gaping wound in his stomach yelling in the same language that Ada had talked in sometimes.

The boy didn´t know what had happened just that suddenly Glossien had screamed and then everything turned quiet as a small stripe of red showed up in the water in the cave.

“Pityafinwe, Pityafinwe-”

The brother peered up at the sorrowful voice, engrossed by it he stood up and began walking towards it, showing the boy back as he grabbed for his brother.

As he appeared out of the cave, he could see a dark haired elf covered in red and eight pointed stars, holding the red haired elf, looking straight into the brother's eye. The brother had seen him before, he had been in their room right before a guard had distracted him and he had left so Glossien could take them away.

Glossien who now lay facing down in the red water.

Not long went as three other red star soldiers came to drag the sobbing one away, only one of the soldiers stayed behind. One soldier who now looked straight at the Child.

“What is your name child?”

“El…” the brother replied much to the boy´s horror. But he agreed, that should they die, they would die being known as what their Emel called them.

“No more? Then I shall call you Elros, until you tell me your full name.”

READ THE REST ON AO3

[searchingforserendipity25]

For @feanorianweek, Maglor at a turning point of his exile, which might be the turning point for the history of Middle Earth, depending on how keen you believe his fishing skills to be.

-

There was a lot to be said about the quiet of solitude. Maglor said all of it, at length, in a variation of arguments.

"O, I do not know who I intend to convince," he sighed, half-way through the Third-Age's last waning years. "This grows very tiresome, and I do not see that it does any good, either."

Perhaps it did; likely it did. Certainly he could not imagine his return would be a cause of comfort to any, and like as not disturb what peace they may have found.

Nonetheless, he had half a mind to make his way to Lindon, and see what manner of trial Círdan might contrive.

All the business of endless sand in his boots, and pockets, and hair had grown irritating long, long ago; and the Noldolantë was not improving. At this time, he was fairly certain it could not be improved upon. He had invented it many times already, in arranged melodies and plain recitation, also atonal arrangements.

The facts remained the same, and still he did not know the name of many of those he had slain, which ruined the general balance of the meter. He had not the right to want to know them, decently speaking; but he would have liked to feel something about the lament, at least, was whole and complete, though it be terrible.

Nonetheless, he could not quite contrive of how to breach his exile. It was not as if he could easily return among Elvenkind. Not he, marred as Morgoth had been, and responsible, on the whole, for causing grief direct or indirect to all of Elvenkind, thereabouts, not including the terms of blame carried for his dead kin, his followers.

His chance for judgement as one of their own had been set aside, erased fully when he followed Maedhros out into the wild each with a jewel-casket in hand, Eönwë's too many eyes set on them with terrible knowing.

The burns on his hands seared with the same sharpness as they had, then. It did not ease, or alter. Nor did Maglor wonder at it. He had reflected long on his deeds, and sought in the echoes of the Music upon the wave-song a measure of wisdom and clarity; but he had not set out to heal himself.

It was not a thing that was in his means to do.

But then, neither could he ask, or expect, or suppose it could be possible. Even had all he had slain had in pleasant harmony found it in their hearts to forgive him, that changed not what he was, nor Varda's verdict on the matter.

"No," the old man agreed. She goes not change her mind, on the whole. Still more evil it would be to attempt it not, when an attempt might be had. And it generally is, if one take a - broad-minded approach. Would you not like to try it?"

He, at least, bore only the one pair on deep-set eyes under fierce brows; but what eyes they were! Too clear, and cutting, and clean. Maglor felt keenly all the sand on himself, the stiff salt in his braids, the weak crusts on his burns seeping through the bandages.

That was not very pleasant, either; but he could not deny it was a novelty.

It had been a long time since Maglor had been regarded as a useful thing, the sea having no interest in him even to drown, and most birds of rapine clever enough to sense the dead flesh he carried was not to be stripped from his fingers lightly.

"Tell me more of this creature," Maglor said, and passed him the pipe once more, with one last drawn breath of rich smoke to fill his lungs. "Gollum, if that be his name. You say he is a sorry thing, fled from the forest and crossing the mountains to hide in damp and dark caves - why, then ought I hunt down a wretch such as he?"

"I believe it should be a thing by none accomplished, but one such as you," said Mithrandir, mouth pursed slyly - flashing glance too-bright by far, and not wholly unkind. "Indulge another old wanderer, if you would. Think of it like so: would you not like a just excuse to leave the shores of the sea, for a little time only?"