#my silm faves

[atane-is-here]

@ainurweek

Melkor and Mairon / The Void, The Flame Imperishable

Not many in middle earth noticed the strangeness of the glow in Annatars eyes that could be so easily mistaken for the light of the trees. But those who were wise enough noticed the absence of Valinors light and knew it as the flame of creation itself, that within him it had twisted into a burning inferno.

In the beginning Melkor had searched the void far and wide for the flame imperishable. As he realized that a part of that flame resided within him he desperately tried to reach it. Tearing himself apart in the process.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finrod and Maedhros in the halls or post embodiment talking about Sauron.

Not about the torture or the agony they went through, more like gossiping on how much of a peacock he was, strutting around and bragging about how beautiful he is.

If you came across them in the street you’d think they’re talking about one of those overdressed Tirion nobles, but then you hear “I preferred his torture to his speeches because dear Eru those were a whole new level of pain-“

“Heard all of two before being mauled. Definitely preferred the werewolf.”

Celebrimbor sometimes joins these sessions but he’s got the additional years of having known Annatar and it’s therapeutic to talk about how self absorbed he was to people who really understand. Safe to say Maedhros and Finrod sombrely commiserate the kid on dealing with that for centuries.

“How did you two become friends??”

“I think his vanity numbed my brain.”

“That’s fair.”

[buttered-toasty]

Maglor my silly they could never make me hate drawing you

.

.

I’ll be real. I don’t think I’ll ever draw him without the makeup. That’s just how he looks to me now

[isilwhore]

Caranthir may have reached his hug limit for the next century, but he’ll always make an exception for Maglor

[cilil]

Fave female characters tag game!💝

Thanks for the tag, @annab99awritersdream! I love polls haha ^^

Rules: Make a poll of your top four favorite characters of all time and see who is the favorite amongst your followers!

Tagging: @featheredmoonwings @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @fishing4stars @urwendii

@niennawept @demonscantgothere @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @sotwk and everyone else who'd like to join! Let me vote for your ladies💕

[maironsbigboobs]

re: elf servants

I think generally there are servants in royal/noble households simply for practical reasons and they generally fall into 2 categories: specialised servants (think, stewards and messengers and scribes, masters of horses or kennels, that kind of thing) and servants who help with the upkeep of the household (cleaning, repairs, cooking and also the apprentices and assistants of specialised servants)

specialised servants are probably quite prestigious roles and fields of industry in their own right, and they are considered full members of a household, and probably are closely linked to the person they serve - it's as much a political and social statement to be Finwe's chief scribe as it is an economic one

but the second category are more associated with the house than the family living in it - for example, Finwe's palace in Tirion would function both as a home and a diplomatic and administrative centre, it would be impossible for him to rule and keep up with chores himself. But Fingolfin's personal home would probably not have any full-time servants - when there more people than usual to feed or house then professionals might be hired, but for the most part I imagine the day to day is done by the family (made possible by the fact elves sleep and eat less than humans)

IRL domestic service (at least in the 18th century) often functioned as a kind of prep stage for adult life (for women in particular, but gender is probably not as big a factor for elves) and I could definitely see this in Valinor - domestic servants being 80% elves between 50-100 who haven't chosen an apprenticeship or similar in another field who are earning extra money to set up their own households, getting experience outside of the family, meeting others in their own ae cohort, learning independence etc. It's a job that comes with the offer of room and board + the wages a king/prince/lord can provide. Not glamorous, but not terrible.

The other 20% is made up of professional servants - experienced elves who are genuinely like the work and are contracted workers as much as a builder or gardener might be. Some of them might be independent and others part of businesses set up by other elves who are really into cooking/cleaning etc.

In Beleriand the situation (for the exiles at least) is probably very different, though I think there would be attempts to adapt the system - but there aren't as many households that need servants and there aren't as many young elves.

[ads-for-nothing]

Y'all are wrong the perfect Silm adaptation exists already and it's the German Playmobil Silmarillion on Youtube

[blueflipflops]

One last thing for feanorian week for today! So here's some sad Maedhros time for @feanorianweek

[Statue Fingon under the cut!]

[anghraine]

I love the Númenóreans for a lot of reasons (peak problematic faves!), but a big one is how much they love the Edain.

[hirazuki]

There’s no end Ideals hold high I’m looking for The light in darkness, the shadow in the sun. ~ Kioku no hikari

[lokittystuckinatree]

I searched what Silm characters share my MBTI and enneagram (for shits and giggles) and the results are…exactly who I expected

Special shout out to Lúthien Tinúviel (oh yeah!), Nienna (oh my!) and Nienor (oh no…) for having the same enneagram as me in addition to being infps

[that-angry-noldo]

"Why did you choose them?"

There is a cold, almost dark curiosity in Eärwen's voice; she tilts her head, glaring at her husband in the light of a poorly lit room.

It is an unfair question, Eärwen knows. Whatever answer Arafinwë gives, she won't be satisfied with it. She watches him struggle, watches words flying through his mind, thoughts racing eachother.

She waits.

What will you say, she thinks, how will you answer? Will you make excuses, will you deny it all?

Arafinwë looks to the window. It's pitch black outside - not even stars shine through the heavy fog of clouds. Eärwen can notice him biting the inside of his lip - a gesture she's all too familiar with; it is ironic, something so well known feeling so distant. (She feels satisfaction. Dark, vengentful satisfaction - true, he hides his nervousness well, but Eärwen still picks up at his signs: how his fingers tug at his sleeves, how his head is just a tad bit tilted, how his lips are slightly pursed. Good, she thinks. You should be nervous.)

"What do you want to hear?" he asks quietly, and looks at her.

Eärwen wants to laugh, or maybe to strangle him. She can't quite decide.

"The truth," she finally says, and smiles sharply. She's hurt, and the wound she was healing all these years is opening again; she's desperate, desperate for her husband to break, to admit he was wrong, to beg for her forgiveness on his knees.

Arafinwë's eyes look straight through her. Eärwen hates it, how he can read her so well after all this time of estrangement. He lowers his head.

"I can give it all to you," he says. "I can tell you I was going for our children, because that would be true - I couldn't stand the thought of leaving them alone, I couldn't stand a thought of abandoning them, not after I abandoned you already. I can tell you I was afraid, and it would be true, too - because I am a coward, and I was a coward, and a coward I will forever remain. I can say it was my egoism, and you will laugh, because you surely called me so countless times already; because in my heart, I was as swayed by the promises of new undiscovered lands as my people were. So tell me, Eärwen Olwiel, what do you want to hear?"

"I," Eärwen Olwiel growls, "want to hear the truth."

Arafinwë jerks his head, and there is challenge in his eyes.

Eärwen feels grim satisfaction.

"I will tell you, then," he says, and his words are bitter. "When I arrived, all I saw were flames. I saw my brother stained with blood, horror on his face. And then, in one moment, I felt pain. Strangling, stiffling pain - I'm sure you felt it, too."

Eärwen grits her teeth. (Her heart stings. Elulindo's death was a weeping wound on their house. It still is, though her brother is between the living again - but he's not the same, he'll never be the same, things will never be the same as they were.)

"And it was confusing," Arafinwë continues, dark and bitter. "Because there I was, standing on the white sand, though it was red, and there was fire all around me - yet all I felt was that strange, new absence; what could it possibly be? And I heard my brothers talking and shouting, and I saw my children around me - they were horrified, Eärwen, Artanis was shaking, and Artaresto-"

Arafinwë takes a sharp breath, and shuts his eyes; he sways a slightest bit before speaking again.

"Findaràto was by my side all that time," he says. "He asked if we should keep moving. I didn't answer, because all I saw were flames, and sand, and pain. Everybody went, so I went with them, and I know- I know, I should've stopped, I should've screamed, but- but I didn't. It hurt. I felt like something was torn away from my very core, and it stung. Every step, it stung. I saw ships passing us, and they felt like a dream. It wasn't real - it felt like a vision, a very detailed, a very horrifying vision; but it hurt, and I couldn't understand why. And - I know it's not an excuse, I know I should've known better - but Findaràto was right there, and I thought, if he's going, it surely must be alright. So I went, and it kept getting colder, and colder."

Eärwen is silent. (The wound, she thinks, never even started to heal, and every Arafinwë's word feels like a new one opening.)

Arafinwë takes a breath.

"Then," he says, "came Mandos, and all the pieces fell together - the blood, the fire, horror on Nolofinwë's face; and all of it came crashing back. Every step, every tear, every word. I howled. I howled, no - I went mad. I reached for Elulindo, and I-" he stops again, and his face is pained, eyes glistening with tears - "I couldn't find him. I felt nothing but void."

The room is silent. Eärwen thinks back to her brother, her brave, her brilliant, her reckless brother, and her heart wants to weep.

"I stormed to Feanàro. I saw nothing but him, with that proud, insufferable scowl on his face. I though of a sword on my hip. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to tear him apart, I wanted to drown him, to burn him, to- he laughed me in the face. You came this far, he said, and it's only now you realize our path is marked with blood? And - I looked at Nolo. I always looked at Nolo, you know? Lalwen was right by his side. They didn't move. They looked right at me, yet they didn't move. I turned around, and I saw my children, and they didn't move."

Arafinwe closes his eyes, and Eärwen feels chills running down her spine when he laughs, swaying, high and weak and hysterical. Tears run down his face, and he presses a hand to his mouth, trying to stiffle his reaction, to even his breath; it lasts for long minutes, and Eärwen wants to leave. The wind howls outside, and Arafinwë's eyes focus on unsteady light of the candle. Finally, he turns to her.

"Here," he says weakly, "you know the truth now. I was weak, and I was a coward, and - and I- and you- this explains nothing, that excuses nothing, but-"

There's no hope in his eyes, she notes, detached. He looks frail in candle's light, weary and afraid; Eärwen purses her lips, and hopes he doesn't notice them trembling.

"I don't forgive you," she says, quiet. "I'm hurt. By you, and by your kin, and that wound is too fresh to be healed by one confession."

What was left of light in his eyes fades; he looks away.

"I understand," he whispers. "I thought so. I'm sorry."

Eärwen wants to say something else - that her heart bleeds not only for her people and family, but for him too; that her empty bed is unbearable some nights, that she misses his touch, that she craves his presence oh so badly some days; but she purses her lips and orders herself to be silent, to be proud, to be cold.

She turnes away and leaves the room.

They part ways, covered by night.

Eärwen sits in her bed. She wants to shut her marriage bond completely.

She sits, and sits, an she never does.

[nailsinmywall]

I LOVE your art sososososo much <33 you’re my favorite silmarillion fanartist <3

Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️ love you!

[thefandomstorage]

So I’m doing a reread of “A Gold Star in His Crown” by @jaz-the-bard and decided to sketch Gil-galad’s outfits in the story. They’re not described in a lot of detail, so it’s mostly my imagination taking the wheel.

Also, his appearance isn’t described in the story, so I just used my own Gil-galad design.

Anyways, here’s a sneak peek of the first outfit that’s finished. It’s what he wears during the feast scene during his first visit to the land of the Fae.

Also, it has just now occur to me that I forgot his circlet. Oops.

Anyways, he’s dressed in Fae style in his colors and pearls. I think this is his most extravagant dress in Imladris (so far, I’ll probably change my mind later). Very shiny boi. Very pretty. In my head, Gil’s attire in Imladris gets more magical with every visit he goes. So rn, there’s only a tiny bit of magic in this outfit and it’s in the gold patterns.

Anyways, hope y’all like it. I’m working on the other outfits rn.

[thelien-art]

I´m done with the calendar except the 25... all up to the 24 are done but I can´t do anything with the 25 so while I´m waiting on my brain to work I´m doing some projects - like making characters designs, there is a lot I´m not sure about so some characters look a bit different when I draw them, and I don´t like that

I found a design for Melkor right before the war of wrath, I already have one for him in Utumno, I like the idea of him loving colorful clothes, even when he comes home with the Silmarils, although he slowly lets them go and walk more in black.

Then when the war of wrath starts, he cut´s he´s hair (Melkor loses his ability to create color when he steals the Silamrils he can still change form bc tolkien claims he loses his fair form when he takes the Silmarils yet he still shows up in a fair form when he first meets the humans so I understand "fair form" as color)

with the iron crown under cut

[saerras]

i'll keep on reading the silmarillion until i can possibly guess the end of asoiaf