#my friend tyelpë

[oof-ow-my-bone]

ok grandpa

[naarisz]

More things for my Au. :)

//Fighting with your former colleague to save your new friends is a story Mairon wouldn't have ever thought to write down in his little daily journal.

Story under the cut!

Random trip to Moria goes wrong. When Annatar finds out whose sleep they disturbed, he tells Celebrimbor to run (in a Gandalf way, but harsher, lol), but Tyelpë is...well Tyelpë, so he runs back to help his friend... to find out that Annatar is gone and out of all people he can think of, Sauron is there with the Balrog. (Mairon just wanted to show off and tell the random Balrog that the #2 boss is still here. (Not just only out of pride, he REALLY didn't want to fight with one of Melkor's strongmans.) Celebrimbor's and Narvi's appearance blows up his plan, of course.) The elf's neurons start to work after the shock and the whole "Where's Annatar??", "What's Sauron doing here???" thing finaly clicks for him. After the fight, he begins the whole "You were my friend Sir, how can you do this to meeee for Varda's glitterly socks' shake!!" attack while Mai is just lying on the floor, slapped to pudding by the Balrog and listens to the list of accusations. The elf's fury lessens eventually and helps the maia to get out.

Gil-galad and Elrond got the same treatment when they and Tyelpë met next time, after the incident. :)

[athrabeth-me-ah-also-me]

ok, my first post longer than 3 sentences, but the subject is worth it.

Some time ago my dearest tolkien-obsessed-best-friend sent me this freaking awesome fic series to read - Aurë Entuluva by @theheirofashandfire and now I'm fangirling about it like crazy. Dear Eru, I can't express how much I love it, but I'll try my best.

This fic made me a russingon worshiper, I'm not kidding. I wasn't a fan before, but now it's my otp, I will defend it with my life, yeah~ I loved Maedhros before, I loved Fingon before, and now together I love them even more.

This fic made me care about Curufin and I wasn't expecting it AT ALL. Like this one of all the characters??? That's impressive, I love it. And somehow Maeglin & Tyelpë & Curufin is my favourite trio now - also absolutely unexpected for me to say.

This fic made me cry so many times, it is the best one I've ever read, I love the flow, dialogues, emotional angst moments and then fluff and comfort, and relationship building in general. Even though english is not my first language and I had to check the dictionary sometimes xD

So yeah, I was rather a canon-is-the-most-important person for a long time (something typical for Tolkien fans in my country) and now I'm thinking about Aurë verse like a parallel but, equal to canon. Thank you dear Author for making my life better <3

I'm not sure if what I wrote makes any sense, but whatever, have a nice day.

[polutrope]

For the holiday prompts, @i-did-not-mean-to requested "Pets and decorations for the best boy in the whole story HUAN (Celegorm can come if he behaves)."

Here you are friend! Everyone came. ~1.2k words of Finvesen family holiday fun with Huan. One F-bomb, rated G. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list. Beleria Cast of Characters.

“Wow,” Celegorm muttered to himself as he stepped into his parents’ foyer.

Nerdanel had outdone herself this year. The Yule tree — a ten foot tall structure only vaguely reminiscent of a conifer — glittered silver and gold under the skylight. In place of branches it was girded in spear-like protrusions, spiralling up the bare wooden pillar at its centre and gradually decreasing in length until they reached a conical crown of clear glass. At the end of each javelin hung an ornament. One would have expected glass, or metal, the sort of costly thing typical of Fëanor and Nerdanel — but this Yule tree, in stark contrast to its structure, was adorned with balls of what appeared to be scrap textile.

It was hideous.

Celegorm shucked off his coat and tossed it on the shoe rack. There was no need to announce his arrival: Huan had bounded ahead the moment they came through the door.

Sure enough, the voice of Fëanor grew louder as he rounded the corner.

“Turko! Your damn dog is getting his hair all over the couch. It was just cleaned!”

“Hi, Dad,” Celegorm greeted him. “Nice tree.”

“Oh, you like it?” Fëanor asked, forgetting Huan’s trespass for the moment. “It’s quite unique, isn’t it? Your mother’s idea to use the old telephone pole and textiles. She’s become quite the proponent of upcycling.” Fëanor bracketed this last in scare quotes.

He looked skeptically at the tree then back to Celegorm. “It’s grown on me,” he mused. “But!” he suddenly pivoted to set his hands on Celegorm’s shoulders, “It’s good to see you, son!”

As they belatedly embraced, Huan came padding back into the room and yapped, leaping up on his hind legs in an attempt to join them.

“Down, boy,” Celegorm laughed. “Remember this is grandma and grandpa’s house, you’ve gotta be a good boy.”

Huan cocked his head.

“Aw, you’re always a good boy, I know.” Celegorm ruffled a hand between his ears. “Come on, let’s go to the basement, Dad won’t be upset if you roll around down there.”

Celegorm winked at Fëanor, who huffed and shook his head.

His father rattled off the usual stream of thoughts as he followed after Celegorm. “I thought you were arriving with Curvo — he is bringing Tyelpë I hope. How are they getting here? Is Cáno giving them a ride then? Have you spent much time with his boyfriend? Daeron. Of course I want my sons to be with whomever they like, but it really is uncanny with him and Nelyo and you finding partners who just so happen to be the children of — oh never mind, none of my business, is it? Can you believe, six months and he still won’t bring him over for dinner! Your mother is picking up the twins. They wanted to take the bus, if you can believe that. Nelyafinwë is picking up a couple pies. He insisted. Have you heard from Moryo, by the way? Your mother texted him but he hasn’t replied.”

Celegorm plopped himself down in a plush arm chair. “I don’t know.”

“Hello! We’re here!” Nerdanel’s voice called from upstairs. Huan bounded back up to greet her.

Fëanor frowned. “That dog is going to have to stay down here. He gets far too excited when everyone is together like this. Did you have to bring him?”

“Huan goes where I go, Dad.”

“Well we’re not spending the whole evening down here so I hope not!”

“Then you’re going to have to let my dog upstairs.”

Fëanor grunted and turned, taking the stairs two at a time to greet his wife and youngest sons. Celegorm took advantage of what might be his last moment of solitude before the storm hit in earnest.

A moment later, Amrod trundled down the stairs. “Hey!” he said.

Celegorm leapt up to take his lanky little brother into a bear hug. “Hey, it’s Red One!”

Amrod kneed him in the thigh. “I have a name.”

“You do?” Celegorm said, and released him with an affectionate smack on the shoulder.

“So, uh,” Amrod said, “what the fuck is with that tree?”

*

And so it went with each new arrival, exchanging knowing looks and murmurs and trying not to snicker at the texts Amrod and Amras kept sending the sibling group chat. Curufin was the only one of them who dared state his disapproval of the tree openly, scowling as he said, “It’s not to my taste.” Maedhros went the opposite direction, concealing his obvious (to his brothers) revulsion with effusive praise and a litany of questions about the tree's craftsmanship and inspiration and symbolism.

After a round of drinks, they all retreated to the kitchen to serve themselves from the spread of food. It was a Finvesen family tradition to get together for a casual meal when the Yule tree was erected. It used to be a decorating party, with a live tree and ornaments strewn over the ground, a memory attached to each one recalled with laughter — but with the move to Beleria, the last of the children finally moved out, Fëanor’s wealth, and Nerdanel’s increasing creative eccentricity, traditions had changed. Celegorm could not say it was for the better. He’d much preferred the joyful chaos back in Valin.

“Hey, guys,” Amrod said as he re-entered the living room ahead of the others. “Where’s Huan?”

Celegorm strolled up behind him to see his dog, indeed, gone. “Huan boy!” he called.

There was a playful yelp from the foyer, and Huan came barrelling in shaking one of the cloth ornaments in his jaw. He tossed it on the ground and disembowelled it of its stuffing. Then he ran back, and there was a crashing and yelping, and another ball rolled into the living room.

It seems Huan agreed with the general opinion on the tree. Celegorm laughed hysterically until Amrod clapped a hand over his mouth.

“What’s going on?” Curufin asked as he walked up beside them with his plate.

“Shh, shh,” Celegorm hushed him. “Pretend you don’t notice.”

"Oh. I see," Curufin said.

So they retook their seats, keeping up the mundane chatter, each brother shushing the others as they entered. Huan gleefully made a heap of his carnage in the archway between foyer and living room.

Returning second-to-last, Fëanor immediately caught sight of the mountain of destroyed ornaments. There was a tense moment of silence; then he turned to Celegorm, grinning, and winked as he took his seat.

“You’re all being very quiet,” Nerdanel said, plopping herself down last. “Is something going on?” She scanned the room. “Oh my god! What happened to my—!” She set her plate down and burst into the foyer. “Huan! Huan, bad! Stop pissing on my tree!”

Following Fëanor’s cue, the others all broke into laughter.

“You’re all terrible,” Nerdanel said, standing in the door frame with her hands on her hips.

Then she too chuckled, then laughed, then howled. “No. No, you’re all perfectly right.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s hideous, isn’t it? I don’t know what I was thinking. What do you say we go pick up a proper tree after we’re eaten?”

“Yes, please!” everyone shouted in unison.

[nyf-archive]

@taminnmacar

She had heard her father’s verdict; Banished. Just like her mother had been so many years ago. Though the circumstances were different, she could remember being that scared child, listening to the orders of a king as they stripped you of the one who held you close at night when fears of monsters kept you frightened.

She did not excuse Atarinkë or Tyelkormo for what they had tried to do and usurp the throne. Maybe if they had gathered their resources, their allies, and made a stronger stance, then they would still be here. They might even be the rulers of this land. But they had failed, and now it was back firing.

Finduilas ran to their quarters after watching the aftermath unfold. Tyelpë was still here. He was an innocent in this. She had stood in front of her father, in front of the crowd that had amassed at the banishing of Fëanorian blood, but the princes relented. Pleaded with her father that the young son of Curufin was innocent and did not deserve the punishment of his father. She knew that Tyelpë was not the small elfling like she had been all those years ago, but it was still the fear of the unknown…of what would come next.

“The sins of the father do not belong to the son!” Her argument had been. She raised the idea of Ereinion being punished for a crime that Orodreth might commit. Perish the thought, of course. But her father’s eyes stared an icy gaze at her, his jaw set and an unamused look upon his features at her outburst. But she would protect him. She would make sure he did not face the same punishment.

“Tyelpë! My lord!” The princess’ voice echoed in the chamber hall, her cheeks flush with frustration and exertion. Her shoes had long been abandoned and her once pristine gown held wrinkles at the hemline and each layer of the skirt was now bustled and bunched to allow for easier traversal of halls known like the back of her hand. As soon as she arrives within ear shot, she bows to him, swallowing hard as she catches her breath.

“You are still friend within these halls. I-I have petitioned for your safety, for your titles and rights to still incur favor within the Mountain. I know you may not wish to remain after your father and uncle have been banished…” she knew she wouldn’t, “but should you not wish to leave…you are still a guest…still allowed to remain in the guest wing, should you so desire…”

[lovefairymina]

Y/N walks into Tyelpë's office

Y/N: Tyelpë, I want your help in finding the perfect spouse and since you're the lord of Eregion, you probably know every eligible bachelor in this city. *Hands him a piece of folded up paper* Here's the list of criteria, and by the end, you will know exactly what type of person I'm looking for.

Tyelpë sighs, dejected, taking the piece of paper and thinking he lost his chance to confess to Y/N, but unwilling to deny his dearest friend: Very well my friend.

Y/N: Please read it out loud, one line at a time. And don't peek at the others before you read them out!

Tyelpë: Alright, I will read. 'Has to be kind'... that's always good, 'Has to be gentle', you most definitely deserve nothing less, 'Has to be rich', eyebrow raise, not a bad thing to have.

Y/N: I do want someone to pay for my bills, you know.

Tyelpë: 'Has to be a lord'... is this necessary?

Y/N: Well if I have someone powerful and influential by my side then no one will try to fight me or bother me.

Tyelpë: That... makes sense. 'Has to be very good-looking' - reasonable, someone as lovely as you deserves someone who has equally good looks. Looks at the next statement before stuttering, 'H-has to h-have a v-very soft c-chest.' swivels to look at Y/N, wondering if he read it wrong

Y/N nodding in approval: That's right. Soft and squishy so I can use it as a pillow.

Tyelpë felt his hopes dim, did he even have a soft chest? He was not a great beauty like his uncle Nelyo. And he was not very influential when compared to others like High King Gil-Galad or Lord Oropher of the Woodland realm. And there were those from old families in Eregion who fit the qualification of being a 'lord'.

Tyelpë: I... don't think I am able to keep reading this. I'm a little tired, so perhaps we can continue tomorrow?

Y/N starts to panic and wanting Tyelpe to know about her feelings: It's only one more line. It's the most important one. All others don't matter as long as this one is fulfilled! Please, please read it?

Tyelpë: But if the other points weren't that important, then why were they included?

Y/N: Because all the points are true for my future spouse and I don't want it to look like I had low standards!

Tyelpë: Alright, last one, 'Has to answer to-' *pauses*

Y/N, grinning: Answer to what? Tell me, for I have already forgotten what I have written.

Tyelpë, looking at Y/N in disbelief and hope: 'Has to answer to either Tyelpë, Tyelperinquar or Celebrimbor. Preferably all. And to call Y/N míré.'

Y/N, smiling at a stunned Tyelpë: What a coincidence! Those criterion fit you perfectly! Almost as if I meant you from the start. What do you say Tyelpë, will you be mine?

Gobsmacked at the length you went to confess your heart out to him, he remained frozen with the paper in had and his eyes fixated on you. Mentally, he was melting his stone face with a smile, externally, he was still shocked. The corners of his lips twitching into smile; the more he did so, his lips parted to sluggishly reveal a grin. “I–It would be wrong of me to not reciprocate when my feels are the same, no?” he awkwardly chuckled in a low tone.

[arofili]

Maeglin/Celebrimbor + 28?

“I thought this was supposed to be happy,” Maeglin said from the shadows.

Celebrimbor sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder. Maeglin repressed the urge to flinch away, reminding himself that this was Tyelpë, who ment such gestures genuinely. He was safe with Tyelpë, even amid...all this.

“In this family, any reunion is bound to result in trouble,” Celebrimbor said. “Even having only met Turukáno and Itarillë, surely you must have known that.”

Maeglin shrugged, letting himself lean against his friend for support. It was nice, to have someone like Celebrimbor to rely on. He hadn’t known it could be this nice.

“I’d hoped...” Maeglin grimaced. More fool him for hoping at all. All that time in Mandos had made him soft. “Well, I’d hoped the others would be different. I didn’t expect my mother to be the one causing the trouble...”

“Well, she and my uncle and father have...unfinished business,” Celebrimbor explained. “I know you said she spoke fondly of them, when you were young, but...it’s still complicated.”

“Well, however unhappy this family reunion is, it’s still worlds better than Nan Elmoth,” Maeglin muttered.

“And it’s better for me that you are here,” Celebrimbor murmured, and kissed him softly in the darkness, where no one else could see.

[cilil]

❅ Prompt: Lazy Day ~ modern/punk AU Melkor x Langon ❅ Synopsis: Langon receives a "hands on lesson" on what the prostate does. ❅ Warnings: Smut (some fingering) ❅ Short oneshot ❅ AO3

» AN: Inspired by this art that popped up on my dash today and written with @junk-whunk-punk-artist's blessing. It was supposed to be a spontaneous surprise that @melkors-big-tits might have spoiled a little, but that's alright :P hope y'all enjoy!

It was supposed to be a lazy day, just hanging out and blasting the shittiest metal music they could find to piss off Melkor's annoying brother. And things had been going fine, great even, until the conversation shifted to naughtier topics and Langon asked what he now realised might have been a dumb question. 

Melkor shifted on the couch, turning to face him, one leg crossed over the other. His elbow rested on the back pillow. "You don't know how the prostate works? Seriously?" 

Embarrassed, Langon increased the speed with which he chewed on his bubblegum. 

"I mean, I guess it's a sex thing or whatever, heard Mai talk about it once or twice when he's fucking Tyelpë, but you know..." 

He didn't feel like voicing it, but both he and Melkor were already well aware that, between the two of them, Mairon was usually the one bringing people home. 

"You're missing out," Melkor said.

Langon merely shrugged in response. As far as he was concerned, there was little he could do about it – but the devious glint in the taller man's dark eyes told him that he had other ideas. 

Melkor moved closer to sit directly beside him, their thighs brushing against one another, his arm already snaking around his shoulders. "Do you wanna find out?" 

His deep voice was devilishly, devastatingly alluring, and Langon blushed. He was not so naive as to not realise where this was going, and excitement made his skin prickle. Melkor was rowdy, cool, handsome and unfairly sexy, turning heads even when people despised and ridiculed him, and he was not immune to his charms. 

"U-umm... yeah?" Langon replied sheepishly and was pulled onto his lap without further delay. 

Melkor held out his hand. "You better spit that out first," he said, nodding towards his restlessly chewing jaw. 

Obediently, Langon spat his bubblegum onto his palm and watched him discard it carelessly before bringing his hand back to his mouth. 

"And now spit again. On my fingers." 

"Why?" 

Melkor grinned down at him. "Assuming you're as clueless as you're acting right now, you're gonna need it. Spit, pants down, pull your legs up. Got it?" 

"Y-yeah." 

"Good." 

Langon did as he had been told. His mind had not yet fully grasped that he was about to – partially – undress in front of one of the sexiest punks around, get fingers shoved up his ass and finally find out about one of the many naughty things Mairon got up to all the time. It was as exciting as it was nerve-wracking, but fortunately for him, Melkor seemed to know what he was doing. 

Now exposed and awkwardly balancing on the other man's lap, Langon felt his cheeks flushing bright red when his shirt was pulled up in tandem with a spit-slicked finger dipping between his shivering legs. 

"Relax, pretty boy. It'll feel a bit weird at first, but very good once I show you what your prostate does," Melkor laughed, his voice low and quiet, and leaned down to kiss Langon's cheek. The dark stubble on his chin and jaw brushed against soft skin, eliciting a small gasp. 

Langon wrapped one arm around his neck to steady himself while Melkor took his time massaging his rim and playing with his nipple before pushing inside. His breath quickened and his free hand grasped the nearest thing to hold on to when he was breached, landing on his friend's still-clothed knee. 

"Easy. Almost there," Melkor whispered in his ear, and Langon exhaled, willing his muscles to relax. It wasn't like he had never done anything of this sort before, but the sensation was strange and intense, his body wanting to tense up and push against it until – 

Melkor crooked his finger, causing it to press against a hidden spot inside him, and Langon threw his head back with a moan loud enough to alert the entire house. 

"F-fuck-!" 

It felt good, so good in fact that he began to move his hips to get more of it. Thankfully, Melkor was happy to oblige and pushed his finger in and out of him, rubbing against his rim and his prostate with skillful precision. He took advantage of Langon's exposed neck to pepper it with small bites and kisses and continued to leisurely explore the sensitive areas of his upper body with his free hand. 

Torture and bliss. Langon felt like he was having an epiphany, not just in regards to the euphoric pleasure flooding and drowning his mind, but now he also understood what all the songs and tales were about. He hadn't believed it could feel this good – and he had been so very wrong. 

When he inevitably came all over his shirt, cursing under his breath, Melkor carefully withdrew his hand and pressed one last gentle kiss to his heaving throat. 

"Think you got it now? Or do you need me to explain more?" 

"'m good," was all that Langon managed, closing his eyes to ground himself. "So very good..."

Thanks for reading! @junk-whunk-punk-artist I scrolled your blog a bit and hope I managed to capture the vibe somewhat heh X)

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Loss, Betrayal - Curufin & Celebrimbor

Oh, this one has the worst reply...by far :(

Brace yourselves for sadness and hurt!

To my son (if he still acknowledges our kinship, deliver it into his own hands, otherwise, burn this letter)

Dear Tyelpë,

Your uncle sends his fond regards. We’re about to leave this accursed city like rabid dogs, chased away by a flurry of stones and angry words—I thought this admission might cheer you for it strongly resembles the cruel fate you’ve prophesied for us upon your own disgruntled departure.

I know not whether this missive shall ever reach you, and a part of me wishes it never will for I am as ashamed of my reluctance to admit fault as of my inexcusable misdeeds—maybe you were always right, and we’re just too far gone for redemption.

My heart misgives me, though, and I want to have admitted (even in so cowardly a fashion as to write a letter addressed to a ghost) at least once that I know that we were wrong to betray Findaráto, who’d ever been a precious friend and stolid ally to us.

In the end, his loyalty will kill him twice over, and even the best of us shall not outrun the Doom of our people. I truly am sorry about that, as I know how fond you are of the silly creature.

No doubt, we shall soon drown in blood, and you may freely join countless others in hoping that it will be our own—I do not resent you anymore for having tried to leave a crooked path leading only to death and devastation before it was too late.

Thus, I beg you to do just that. Live, son of mine, survive and prove me wrong in my defeatist belief that all is irrevocably lost!

Surpass me by bearing the loss of a beloved father—however flawed and insane as he might have been—with equanimity and unwavering courage rather than maddening grief and poisonous hatred. Instead, find your mother’s people or throw yourself at the mercy of a distant relative, yet untouched and unmarred by the voracious curse grinding those closest to you to meal.

May I be the only one of my generation to see my child flee from me in desperate pursuit of a brighter future! May you find shelter and support in the bosom of another colony.

Your uncle’s ready to leave—I shan’t take the writing set your mother made for me, so I’ll entrust it, together with this letter—and what little remains of my heart—to the safekeeping of one of the few friends that remain to us.

Don’t weep for me, Tyelpë! We’ve both made our choices and the bones are cast; may your destiny be more clement than mine. Stay as vigilant and incorruptible as you’ve been in leaving us! The worst is yet to come, I fear!

In time, you might even come to remember that, once upon a time, you’ve loved me well and admired me truly.

Enclosed in this letter, you’ll find the pendant you’ve crafted for me. I no longer deserve to bear the mark of your filial affection where I’m headed.

I’m stripped to the bleakest, barest form of my former self, and I’m glad you’re no longer here to witness my humbling fall from grace.

Farewell, beloved son of mine, until we meet again,

Your desolate father

Link on Ao3

[serregon]

my gift for @officialtolkiensecretsanta is a poetic recanting of the final confrontation between Celebrimbor and Sauron

and my recipient is the lovely and talented @ayaosguqin! I hope everyone’s having a wonderful christmas! and if you don’t celebrate christmas, I hope you have a great day

CELEBRIMBOR:

Oh Annatar! Dear Annatar!

What happened to my shining star?

I trusted you, oh lord of gifts,

Was all of it some twisted trick?

SAURON:

Dear Celebrimbor, look at me:

Tell me, my friend, what do you see?

They call me trickster, liar, thief,

Or Morgoth Bauglir’s foremost chief.

CELEBRIMBOR:

I thought our strength could reach the sky,

Yet was it all naught but a lie?

These centuries I spent with you,

I thought you nothing less than true.

SAURON:

Tell me, Tyelpë, why you cry

When you know that these realms will die.

Without my gifts the elves will fall,

No more than bright Valinor’s thrall.

CELEBRIMBOR:

I sought to end our realm’s decay

Before the Eldar sail away.

I only longed to do what’s right,

To bring free peoples hope and light.

SAURON:

Indeed they shall find hope and light

Beneath a lord of flaming might.

Fair Valinor has fed them lies,

No more than ants in Manwë’s eyes.

CELEBRIMBOR

We Eldar stand both wise and tall,

It’s you who seeks to make us thralls.

Our elven light shall never yield,

It’s power Sauron cannot wield.

SAURON:

Silver, diamonds, emeralds, jade,

I cherish all that we have made.

Your strength has been a useful guide,

I would appreciate you by my side.

CELEBRIMBOR:

You want me as your right-hand man,

Was this always your villain plan?

I’d rather fall upon a sword,

I’ll never see you as my lord.

SAURON:

Why, Celebrimbor, can’t you see

How powerful we would be.

You, a lieutenant of my own,

And I, the lord on my dark throne.

CELEBRIMBOR:

We crafted our great sixteen rings,

Our gifts for sixteen noble kings.

I can not serve a lord so dark,

I defy your rule with all my heart.

SAURON:

Enough! I’ve had it with your cries.

I’ll rule alone beneath these skies.

You defy me, fine, but mark my word,

These rings will serve but one dark lord.

[glorf1ndel]

Fic prompt

Celebrimbor x happiness!!!!

Ahh, thank you for this prompt! He deserves all the happiness! Here is your fic. <3

Happiness, Deserved (700 words, gen)

Narvi does his best to comfort a stressed Celebrimbor.

On Ao3 and below!

Recently, Celebrimbor has taken to worrying. His friend Narvi is the first person to notice, and he grows concerned. The Lord of Eregion is the type to dismiss his anxieties with a wave of the hand – or worse, he claims that he has none when Narvi can see the lines of worry on his forehead, as clear as the designs chiseled into the columns that hold up Khazad-dûm. Of all people, Celebrimbor can’t fool Narvi, who has known him for almost fifty years. That may not be much in the lifetime of an Elf, but it is not insignificant for a Dwarf. Narvi expects Celebrimbor to outlive him, but what good is a long life if it is frittered away in distress?

Well, Narvi is not the type to keep his thoughts to himself. He has had many conversations with Celebrimbor about this, and some have gone better than others. But when Celebrimbor nearly drops an anvil on his foot in the smithy, Narvi decides he needs to take a firmer approach.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, once the workday is over. “You’ve been frazzled lately, and I don’t know why.”

Celebrimbor sticks his tongue out at Narvi, like a dwarfling.

“Do you need to know why?”

“I’m not falling for that,” Narvi says. “You play at being easygoing, but you’re so high-strung, it’s unbearable. Your stress is making me stressed.”

“I–I’m sorry,” Celebrimbor mutters. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. About my… History. You know what my family has done; there’s a lot to think about.”

Narvi nods. Frankly, this is more than he was expecting to hear. When he replies, the words come out softly.

“You deserve happiness, Tyelpë.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t,” Celebrimbor admits. Narvi restrains the urge to roll his eyes and goes to his side. They stand in front of the forge, whose embers are still flickering.

“Why? Because you’re the grandson of Fëanor? That doesn’t make you a killer, Tyelpë. You didn’t swear that oath. You didn’t take anyone’s life. You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the point!” Celebrimbor whirls toward him. “I did nothing!”

Crossing his arms, Narvi clears his throat and says,

“Weren’t you a child when this kinslaying thing happened?”

“There was more than one kinslaying,” Celebrimbor says impatiently. “The point is, my family – my father – did many cruel things. I wasn’t a child for all of it. But I certainly behaved like one, because I was blind to his faults. When my father and uncle tried to take over Nargothrond, I should have realized. Instead, I only found out when they were exiled from the city. And do you know what I did?”

“What?”

“I cut ties.”

“Nobody could blame you for that.”

“Don’t you see? I should have stayed with him! If I had, maybe he wouldn’t have gone on to do even more horrible things–“

“Maybe,” Narvi echoes, “And maybe not. Who can know for certain? You should not blame yourself for what your father chose to do. You aren’t him.”

“I suppose that’s true –“

“It is certainly true,” Narvi insists. “Listen, Tyelpë, this is what the mind-advisors of Khazad-dûm call “generational trauma.” Now, this may not be the usual version of it, but keep in mind that your father and grandfather underwent great stress in their lives. It is understandable that some of that stress should pass down to you. But it’s not something you should blame yourself for, just as you can’t blame yourself for your father’s deeds–“

Celebrimbor blinks in surprise, then manages something between a laugh and a sob. Narvi welcomes the hug that follows. Wrapping his arms around Celebrimbor, he can feel the tension drain out of the Elf’s body. Narvi believes that a person’s happiness ultimately depends on what is in one’s own heart, not on what other people do. But a dear friend? That is a boon in difficult times.

Perhaps Celebrimbor’s thoughts mirror his own in that moment, because he says,

“You’re a good friend, Narvi.”

“Of course I am,” the Dwarf huffs. “I’m your best friend. Now, can I go on?”

“You certainly can,” says Celebrimbor, and together, they leave the forge.

****

Thank you for reading! If you'd like, leave kudos and a comment on Ao3, or like and reblog this post!

[thelordofgifs]

🌶 Narvi, Celebrimbor, and Annatar. Go.

Narvi: is female! I don’t think this is controversial tbh but it’s like the only headcanon I have about her. Also I have no interest in the Celebrimbor/Narvi ship, I like them better as friends.

Celebrimbor: is BABY and I will suffer nothing bad to be said about him ever. Lots of opinions, maybe some of them are controversial: he literally never did a single thing wrong in his life and I will die on this hill; he trusted Annatar because he wanted to believe the Valar had not forsaken them and because he wanted to learn and improve as a craftsman AND THAT’S NOT A BAD THING; the open door policy at Ost-in-Edhil is the single most inspiring thing anyone ever did in Middle-Earth (contrast with Doriath! With Gondolin!). Hmm what else? In a letter or something JRRT advanced the opinion that the making of the rings of power was ultimately an act of hubris, and desiring to make a sort of paradise-on-earth in defiance of the gods is somehow a bad thing to do?? Literally fuck this bad opinion actually. It is not a bad thing to want to heal and preserve the world as best as you can. I’ve seen Tyelpë (oh also I always call him Tyelpë in my head) depicted as someone whose ambition is literally to DEFEAT THE SECOND LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS and I fully support this. The most idealistic idealist ever. Also, I feel quite strongly that he didn’t participate in the First Kinslaying (in my hc because he was still a child, but any reasoning will do); I don’t think a Kinslayer could have made the Three.

Annatar: hmm yeah fuck him. Why did you do that to Tyelpë. I do ship silvergifting, it’s sexy, but generally with a sort of uneasy undercurrent almost right from the start? I don’t think Sauron ever loved Tyelpë truly, although I do think he was fascinated by him. I’m also not really interested in his own character arc, more so by how the relationship (professional AND romantic) affected and changed Tyelpë. I also find Fourth-Age stories where Tyelpë is re-embodied and they get back together hard to swallow — fundamentally, I find it hard to see Sauron as redeemable. Which is maybe hypocritical, considering how much I love the sons of Fëanor – but he CROSSED A LINE when he tortured my poor Tyelpë to death and then used his body as a war-banner ok??

[titcrevette]

Day 1 : Stripes, Fëanor, side

I realized the I forgot to post my text for advent calendar here too. So, you will have three of them today I guess. Here is Friday's one

Fëanor had a lot of regrets about his untimely death in Beleriand. Leaving his sons to fend for themselves against Morgoth was of course his biggest among them. His hubris had broken his bright wonderful boys, all in different ways. Another regret was that he never got to meet Beleriand’s various inhabitants. Given how broken and paranoid he had been, it might have been for the best. 

Now in the Second Singing, healed at last, he delighted in meeting them. His first encounter with them had been meeting Aulë’s Children in Eregion. He had gone there with Tyelpë, as his grandson har been confident his friends there would have begun rebuilding his city. His sons had wanted to rebuild theirs before he came, wanting to show him their stronghold only as they had been at the height of their power. He tried no to take it as a failure to show his pride for his children. 

It was a few years before he met the first Man. His first surprise upon meeting them had been the shine. Elves as a rule made sure to tone down their respective shine. Back in Cuiviénen, that had been so they would not be seen by whatever creatures lurked in the shadows. With time, in Valinor, showing your shine had become either an aggressive move or something very intimate. It might have evolved later in Beleriand, but he had no idea of how. Yet, despite the intense shine, the Man didn’t seem to be aggressive. He seemed in fact to be on quite friendly terms with Tyelpë. It took Fëanor a moment to adapt to the intensity the Man, Elros as he had been introduced, shone with. 

The second surprise came when he finally could focus past this luminosity. It seemed Men’s shine had patterns. His grandson’s friend was covered in stripes of various luminosity. By the time he came back to himself after this discovery, Fëanor realized his grandson had been calling him several times, the Man was looking uncomfortable and head somewhat acquired a piece of paper and some graphite to draw with. 

“Are you back with us Grandfather? You have been staring at Elros for quite some time.”

“Sorry about that, your stripes just have quite wonderful patterns. Not that it is a reason to stare at you like I did, Sorry about that.” He knew he was rambling but he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“What do you mean by “my patterns”?” The Man, fortunately for Fëanor, seemed more confused than offended.

“Elven shines, as far as I can tell, are quite homogenous on the body. But yours vary in intensity and that creates intricate patterns. I can’t see all of them for obvious reasons, but in some areas, they seem to glow bright enough to be seen even through clothes. The most obvious is on your sides, back and torso.” He had been absently drawing said patterns as he was explaining. To be able to show the Man of course. If said patterns ended up etched in some pieces of jewelry, well, it would likely be a coincidence. “From what I can observe from your escort, the patterns even seem to be unique to everyone.”

“Grandfather” said Tyelpë, finally managing to interrupt him long enough to talk. “The Men are not able to see the shine !”

Oh! That would explain a few things. 

[auntieaugury]

Not-Six-sentence Sunday

thank you @spiced-wine-fic Share part of a wip

“I tend to be in my head most of the time, yes.”

“Probably why you're such an awful father.”

“I'm not--”

“Horrible father. Horrible son. Horrible husband. Horrible friend. Certainly a horrible leader. You got your citizens killed and your city burned to the ground.”

“YOU DID THAT!” He pushed against his chains.

Sauron waved his hands. “Details. It doesn't matter who did it. It was your responsibility. You're not very GOOD at responsibilities, are you, Tyelpë?”

[polutrope]

bittersweet memories + uhh turgon or finrod?

Thank you for the prompt! Here's ~850 words of plotless banter between old friends. Warnings for a little recreational cannabis use. Stoner Turgon is so important to me. Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list. Beleria Cast of Characters.

They passed through the blue light tunnel and emerged onto a wide open space. Here, the leafless trees were girded in twinkling green and red and gold, garlands of handmade lanterns strung between them. Illuminated wire sculptures of bears and wolves and reindeer glowed among the thick cedar trunks that stood sentinel around Doriath Botanical Gardens.

“Hey,” said Finrod, grinning at the exuberant display of holiday cheer. “Remember when you got me high that time we took my parents here?”

“Best way to do a festival of lights,” Turgon mused, deadpan. He sipped from the hot apple cider they’d picked up at the concession.

Finrod laughed. “I don’t know, I was freaking out. Remember I kept tying to comfort you, thinking you were crying when you were laughing? Hah! And my little sister was there too, wasn’t she? She was what, eight? Nine? She must have thought we were nuts.”

“Galadriel at nine? She probably knew exactly what was going on. Your dad knew, too, by the way.”

“What!” Finrod cried.

“Yeah, he called me out on it when you went and stared at the Santa actor for so long some poor volunteer had to escort you out. He thought it was funny, mostly.”

The path rounded a corner and they were greeted by the smiling face and raised arm of a giant mechanical snowman swaying from side-to-side.

“Yikes,” said Turgon. “That thing’s ugly.”

“Surprised my parents let me hang out with you then,” said Finrod, following the thread of his memories. “Seventeen-year-old kid with his cousin in university.”

“Excuse me. I was a very good influence. ”

“I’m surprised you let me hang out with you.”

Turgon shrugged. “You were always more interesting than the guys I went to school with. You got me out of my textbooks to do fun things, like going the light festivals. Smarter, too. Actually, I thought you were cooler than me.”

“Aw.” Finrod bumped shoulders with him. “That’s sweet, Turno. Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

“Oh, no. Back then. You’re a loser now.”

Finrod sighed heavily and knotted his arms across his chest.

“Hey— a joke, Ingo,” Turgon said, then looked down at him with that expression of concern that Finrod always found both reassuring and insufferably patronising. “Something up?”

“No, you have a point,” Finrod elaborated. “That was ten years ago, Turno, and what’s changed? I have two worthless arts degrees. Soon as I make any money I blow it trying to go ‘find myself’ in some distant land. I’ve worked in almost every coffee shop in the neighbourhood at this point. I’m still hung up on a girl I left five years ago. Pretty sure my roommate hates me.”

“Curufin hates everyone. Unless you mean Celebrimbor. That kid’s just weird.”

“No, of course not! I love Tyelpë.”

“There you go. It’s not all as grim as you make it out.”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean. You’re married to the love of your life. You have a beautiful daughter. You’re almost a professor.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love them, and I love my job. But I hardly sleep. I hardly spend any time with Elenwë or Idril anymore, and when I do my sister and her kid are there — I love Aredhel, I love my sulky little nephew, but they take up a lot of space. This is the first time I’ve been somewhere other than the university or my apartment in months. And do you know what postdocs make? Probably about the same as you’re earning at that coffee shop.” Turgon sipped his drink again. “Grass is always greener, Ingo.”

Finrod shook his head ruefully. “Sorry, I know.”

“It’s all right. I get it.” Turgon hooked an arm around Finrod’s shoulders and tugged him close. “You remember what granddad use to say?”

“You’ll figure it out, kid,” said Finrod.

“And then you’ll forget,” Turgon continued, mimicking Finwë’s sagacious drawl. “And then you’ll figure it out all over again.”

“That’s what keeps life from getting boring,” they said in unison.

At that moment, there was a burst of song, and to their right a fountain leapt up from the centre of the pond. Turgon stopped in his tracks, transfixed by the impressive choreography of light and water and sound.

“Ingo.” Turgon turned to him during a lull in the music. “I gotta tell you something.”

“Mm?”

“I’m high right now.”

“What! Tsk!” Finrod slapped his arm and Turgon snickered. Then he slid a small, colourful bag from his coat pocket.

“Gummies,” he said, opening the package. “You want one? They’re subtle, not like that stuff I used to smoke.”

“Gummies?” Finrod repeated. “You’re a gummy stoner now?”

“Shh.” Turgon chuckled. “I’m only a casual gummy user. You gonna take one or not?”

Finrod worked his fingers in the bag. “Of course I am,” he popped one in his mouth. “I can’t believe you were going to hide this from me.”

“I thought you might think I was a loser.” A carefree smile reached Turgon’s eyes. “Come on, fellow loser, let’s see some more lights — this time with a hundred percent more pop.”

[prismatic-starstuff]

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