#nargothrond trio

[captain-peanut110]

Fingon: I fuck your brother

Celegorm and Curufin: *outraged* how dare you?!

Galadriel in the background: not quite nice when someone turns the tables of you, is it?

…

Finrod: 😳😳😳 how did u know?

Fingon: Everyone knows. You’re loud. And descriptive. And loud!

Finrod: 🫥🫥🫥

Fingon: no judgement

Galadriel: much judgement! Honestly, Ingo, wtf?

Finrod: 🫣🫣🫣

Fingon: oh, come on, it could have been worse

Galadriel: worse? how exactly? Morgoth? Sauron? A couple of balrogs?

Some time later:

Finrod: I love both of them and we are getting married!!!

Galadriel: how about those Balrogs now? I hear Morgoth is actually quite handsome? And Sauron is a mighty craftsman if that is what you’re into? Think about it!

[nin-varisse]

I would kill for a sitcom of Finrod, Celegorm and Curufin's daily lives in Nargothrond. Like how did this even happen? Why didn't C&C move in with any of their brothers instead? What did their daily lives together look like? Why did Finrod let them live with him? Are they close? Do they hate each other? What's it like at the dinner table?

[gardensofthemoon]

About the request the Kiss Prompt, can I ask for 26 - as an apology - Celegorm/Finrod/Curufin? About the three characters together?

26 - as an apology. prompt list here

Knelt at the foot of the throne, Celegorm looked up at Finrod; at a wan Finrod, face bleached pale and mouth drawn tight, yet who held himself upright with the poise of one who conquered the dark tower of Gorthaur.

Leaning over the armrest, his brother took Finrod’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Cousin,” he whispered against Finrod’s cheek, “how joyfully my heart soars to see you returned victorious to us. To me.”

Unlike Celegorm, he was standing. Unlike Celegorm, he dared touch without fear the king whom they had believed dead for two moons. His hand lingered, fingers curling into a caress around Finrod’s wrist.

“We missed you, Ingoldo,” said Curufin. As prompted, Celegorm took Finrod’s other hand. It felt weightless in his grasp, skin stretched taut over long-boned fingers. The famed beauty of the golden king was marred by the dreadful quest he had pursued, and what used to be a hale body had become one devoid of strength, a shadow. Silver scars peeked from the collar of Finrod’s heavy robes.

“Missed me,” answered Finrod, hollow. Celegorm heard he had sung himself hoarse in that brave battle of song. Gone were the bright harmonies lilting in Finrod’s voice, the teasing tenor, the merry calls. “Hardly can I believe any words spilling from your tongue, Curufinwë. You no longer have my trust.”

Pain welled in Curufin’s eyes; Celegorm had not expected his brother to betray such sentiment. It’s but a game, Curufin used to say, after he returned from the royal bedchamber with the king’s scent infused in his skin, nothing more. Soon he will show his weaknesses, and we will strike. Many such words Curufin would say as he lay with Celegorm, but Celegorm knew his brother better than himself, and what a crafty liar he was, lying even to himself. For as the years passed, the encounters between Finrod and Curufin were less of those deceiving each other, but of people in whose hearts a love blossomed that which dared not be named.

“Be as it may, as long as you live,” said Curufin with a tenderness that Celegorm found with a jealous pang rang true. “For what it is worth, I shall say it. I am sorry.” He looked down at Curufin and raised his eyebrows.

“As am I,” grumbled Celegorm begrudgingly, and kissed Finrod’s palm. Above him, Curufin pressed his mouth to Finrod’s forehead, on the silver crown.

[elevenelvenswords]

"Political animosity and filthy, hate-sex are interchangeable."

-Celegorm, Curufin and Finrod in Nargothrond (probably)

[queerofthedagger]

emerging screaming shaking covered in blood from the finrod tag like. my GUY 😭

[elentarial]

Don’t act like this isn’t the Nargothrond Disaster Trio’s favorite position.

Curufin: do you always bring a knife to bed? Celegorm: yes

Finrod: you don’t?

youve heard of missionary position. now get ready for MERCENARY position

[icysilverthread]

🦄: Barahir, 💛: Angrod, and 🐅: Edrahil if those resonate? (Or for anyone else instead if you’d rather answer for a different character)

eee! (thank you!)

🦄 for Barahir:

Barahir loves embroidery. It's rarely anything big, but whenever he, or Emeldir, or their children tear their clothes, he pulls out bright thread and stitches the rip together into a tiny pinecone, or a fox, or once, when Beren asked, an image of one of the peaks next to Anach.

Later, at Aeluin, the thread is undyed and nearly invisible, the patches less elaborate, but those who know him can always see his work on his clothes.

💛for Angrod:

Angrod knew Fingon never wanted to be High King, and as the grumpy cynic of their little trio, he knew that if Fingolfin ever died he was going straight to Hithlum so Fingon had a shoulder to cry on and someone to deal with all of the inevitable nonsense. Aegnor, who hated dealing with nonsense, would of course insist on coming anyway, the better to be distracting and shame the nonsense into going away.

He hadn't counted on dying first, but well, that wasn't entirely unlikely. What he couldn't forgive himself for (forgive the world for) was dying first, at the same time as Aegnor, at the same time as Fingolfin. He is going to give Fingon so many hugs once they both have bodies to hug with again.

I think I have to admit defeat on🐅 for Edrahil; I clearly haven't thought about him enough.

And as a bonus / in exchange, 💛/🕊️ for Finrod:

Finrod visits Emeldir as soon as he hears she's arrived in Brethil. He offers her and her group a place in Nargothrond, of course, but she doesn't want it. What she will accept is gifts: tools, seeds, cloth, medicines, everything he can think of that she might need to rebuild an entire life for her people. And he would have anyway, of course, of course -- but what he is thinking is that he's so glad he swore Barahir an oath, how that makes every choice easy and every question straightforward.

One of the last things he does before the coup is to send a messenger to tell her that her son is alive.

[ervona]

today saw a post calling Finrod and the two losers who harassed Luthien the Nargothrond trio rather than the iconic throuple of Finduilas, Gwindor and Turin. do you truly have no shame... smh my head

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Silver and Gold

Pairing: Curufin (Curufinwë)/Celegorm (Tyelkormo)/Finrod (Findaráto)

Rating: E

Themes: NSFT

Others: There is plot I think | The Nargothrond Trio before they became the Nargothrond Trio

Warnings: Sibling incest | Cousin incest | Threesome | Kissing | Masturbation | Handjob

Wordcount: 2.2k words

Summary: A game to drive away boredom turns into something wholly different altogether.

A/n : This is yet another awesome request from a lovely regular reader over at AO3, and for one of these prompts.

Minors DNI | 18+ | This is also available on AO3

Tyelkormo stood by the open entryway of the large and airy tent, peering out into the world just beyond it. It had turned cold and gray not long after they had made camp, and it began to rain. Fat drops of water fell to the earth in a mighty downpour; they splattered against the roof.

“We cannot hunt for a while,” he said, letting go of the tent flap as he turned to face the others. It grew all the warmer within because he did so. “We will have to think of some other way to amuse ourselves until this deluge ends; the animals will not leave their nests and their dens until then.”

“I could sing,” Findaráto offered from his place amidst the cushions. He reached for the gold-tipped lyre that had been a coming-of-age gift from his mother’s sire. “Something sweet, perhaps, to draw our attention from the gloom outside.”

“I do not care much for singing,” Curufinwë said. He poured himself a measure of fine wine, and then he poured two more for his brother and his cousin. “How about a game instead, like Questions and Commands?”

“I will require far more wine than this,” Tyelkormo grumbled, joining them. He sat down, his legs crossed, on the soft carpet strewn across the cured hides that served as a floor. “Especially if I am to play against you, Curvo.” He paused and then threw up his arms, adding, “Very well! How shall we begin?”

Three coins, one of gold, one of silver, and one of copper, were each hidden beneath upturned cups. It was decided that the one who drew the gold coin would begin the game, and the one who drew the copper would have to choose if they were to be questioned, or if they were to be given a command. Findaráto was invited to choose first, as he was his cousins’ guest. He closed his eyes and reached for a cup. The coin hidden beneath it was the silver. Curufinwë chose next. His coin was gold. Tyelkormo groaned. His coin was the copper one.

“Valar save me,” he muttered, blowing out a breath. “How do you wish to begin, brother mine?”

“With a question, of course,” Curufinwë returned, beaming. “And it is a question that I, and many others, including our cousin, have oft thought of asking. What do you truly do when you are alone with your lord and his lady?”

His brother flushed. It spread from cheek to chest. Findaráto regarded him, more than a little amused. It was a rare thing indeed for Tyelkormo to blush furiously. Very little abashed him in such a fashion.

“What I say must not leave the confines of this tent,” Tyelkormo said, draining the cup of wine his brother gave him. He could trust both Curufinwë and Findaráto to keep his secrets, but, he needed reassurances, all the same. Only the elves chosen to serve Oromë and his lady knew what happened within the halls they called home, and he did not wish for word to spread. “Lord Oromë will not take kindly to a tattling tongue. Neither will Lady Vána.”

“I give you my word to guard your secret,” Curufinwë told him, ravenously curious. In his own family, only Tyelkormo claimed an intimate bond with one of the Ainur. Not even their father could make such a boast, and he possessed the greatest skill of both word and hand. “Findaráto will guard it also.”

Findaráto nodded. He swore to never speak of what was revealed to him, and Tyelkormo, at length, said, “We gather in Lord Oromë’s chamber after the others have departed for their own,” he began. “And I share my lord and lady’s bed. Lord Oromë is a generous lover; his lady is also. They do not leave me wanting for anything while I am with them.”

“I would ask more,” Findaráto said, scandalized and intrigued by what he heard, “but that would be against the directions of this game.” He finished his wine and gestured for Curufinwë to pour more for them all. He perceived they would need more of it as the game continued. “And I believe the time has come for you to question, or command, your brother.”

They continued. Curufinwë chose to be commanded, and Tyelkormo commanded him to sing. He made a face of mild displeasure, for he did not care much for singing. Crafting with his hands was his chief delight, and it was Makalaurë who was the minstrel of the family; Eru himself could not have devised a more potent and rousing voice for singing. Nevertheless, he sang all the same, a drinking song heard in the inns of Tirion after the hours of all appropriate conduct had passed. Tyelkormo and Findaráto sang along also, laughing and stumbling over the words; the latter turned red in the face whenever they reached the chorus. Wine flowed freely; Curufinwë exercised a more generous hand with it. Then they stopped. It was Findaráto’s turn to be challenged, this time by Curufinwë.

“What would it be, Ingoldo?” The one named after his father asked. “Question or command?”

“Questioned,” Findaráto chose without hesitation. “I choose to be questioned.”

“Very well,” Curufinwë said. He too did not hesitate with what he was about to say next. “Have you ever been intimate with a companion?”

“I have not,” Findaráto confessed. He held out his cup, a signal for more wine. Tyelkormo was correct when he said more wine would be needed when dealing with Curufinwë during such a game. “I have not even exchanged a kiss.”

“Beautiful, golden Ingoldo, the heir of his father’s noble house, a grandchild of an elven lord who succeeded in winning the love of not one but two strong-willed elven women, never having a companion,” Curufinwë remarked, more than a little amazed. He stretched out on the pelt with surprising feline grace and propped himself on his elbow. “How is this possible? Was there no one who captured your eye even for a little while?”

“No one,” Findaráto admitted, albeit reluctantly. “Perhaps they may reveal themselves to me in the future, but for now, at least, there is no one.”

“Have you ever thought of approaching someone?” Curufinwë asked. “Someone who would be amenable to coming to an arrangement with you at least?”

“Yes,” Tyelkormo agreed. “Have you approached someone and asked them if they would enjoy being fucked by a Noldorin prince?”

Findaráto nearly choked on his next sip of wine. Tyelkormo leaned over and clapped him on the back. He thanked him for it after he had gathered his breath. “I will ask no one of such a thing,” he declared primly. “If someone approaches me of their own accord, that would be a different issue, but I will approach no one. They may only agree because I am a prince and that I must not be refused, not because they desire me in any fashion.”

“Fair enough,” Tyelkormo said. “But it is still a shame, truly. You do not comprehend the delights that are passing you by.”

“Oh? Perhaps you should show me then, fair cousin, and I will finally comprehend what I have missed thus far.” 

It was an empty challenge, and one said in jest. Still, it hung in the air between them, like a great burden that demanded on being dealt with immediately. Tyelkormo drained another cup of wine, silent for once. Curufinwë sat back up, his gaze resting intently on his golden-haired cousin. He devised a notion that he would have considered incomprehensible had he not been overwhelmed by the sudden desire to indulge in the forbidden.

“Perhaps my brother should show you,” he said. The other two gaped at him, their jaws slack. “It is just the three of us,” he went on to explain, “and like your tales of Oromë and Vána, what takes place hereafter does not have to leave the confines of this tent.”

“You have had far too much wine, brother mine,” Tyelkormo said. He reached forward and grabbed the cup out of his brother’s hand. “It has slowed your wit to a degree that alarms me.”

“It has not,” Curufinwë retorted. He took his cup back. Wine splashed onto the carpet when he did so. “Think about it, Tyelko. By doing this, Findaráto gets to savor all of the pleasures he has not yet feasted on until now, and he does not have to fear discovery or the shame that will inevitably follow had he invited a stranger to his bed. What do you say, kinsman? Will you consider doing this?”

“The risks are too great, Curvo,” Findaráto exclaimed, his cheeks aflame. What Curufinwë proposed went beyond all acceptable bounds of elven relations. He set down his cup, uncertain if he wished to hear more. “We are kin by blood, not just by marriage. If the others learned of what we did, our reputations would be shattered forever. We would be unable to show our faces in good society again.”

“But no one will learn of it since it is just us,” Curufinwë insisted. He set down his cup as well and looked at Findaráto. “If you like, we can begin with something simple. Something like a kiss. Then, if you desire more, we can indulge in more.”

“And since you were the one who suggested this scheme,” Tyelkormo suggested, his amber eyes alight, “you should be the one to begin. What do you say, Ingoldo? Do you agree?”

At first, Tyelkormo did not care for his brother’s notion, but the more he dwelt on it, the more interested he became in it. Perhaps it was due to being trapped within a tent with little else to occupy his time, or, perhaps, it was because he had drunk so much wine. It did not matter, in the end, for he too found himself overcome with the hunger to taste what was not allowed to them by law and custom. And, he willingly admitted to himself, his cousin looked quite fair with his rosy cheeks and his hair gleaming in the dim light.  

“Yes,” Findaráto said, clutching on to his courage before it fled. His curiosity had grown despite his fears, and a taste, he decided, may not do much harm after all. “Shall we begin, Curvo?” 

Curufinwë nodded with barely restrained eagerness. He closed his eyes, leaned in, and kissed Findaráto softly on the mouth. It was clumsy but sweet, for he had more skill, and his cousin had little to none. Nevertheless, he continued all the same, cupping Findaráto’s face with his hands and drinking in the taste of cloves and wine he found clinging to his lips. Findaráto grew bolder. His hands moved to Curufinwë’s sides, his fingers digging into the wool of his tunic. He deepened their kiss, sighing wistfully when he heard his cousin moan.

“I believe it is now your turn, brother mine,” Curufinwë managed after he drew back, his glittering silver eyes now clouded over with lust. “And I believe Ingoldo is quite ready to welcome your embraces.”

Tyelkormo did not have to be told more. What he witnessed was invitation enough. He divested himself of his cup and rose. “He is indeed,” he said, reaching his cousin in two strides. “And so am I. How was my brother’s kiss, Ingoldo? Was it all you envisioned a kiss to be?”

“It was very sweet,” Findaráto said. He gasped when Tyelkormo knelt down over his lap and straddled his hips. “And it was more than what I envisioned it would be.”

“That is good then,” Tyelkormo murmured. He pushed Findaráto onto his back and smiled triumphantly when he slid his arms around his waist, as if he were impatient for him. “Shall we begin?”

They kissed each other shamelessly, having freed themselves of all that held them back before. Tyelkormo braced his hand by Findaráto’s shoulder, his hair falling down and mingling with his cousin’s in a pool of silver and gold. His other hand he allowed to wander until it slipped between their bellies and rested between Findaráto’s thighs. Curufinwë, content to sit and watch them, tugged at the laces of his breeches and loosened them just enough to free his erection. He fisted his cock while his brother loosened their cousin’s robes and took his own to hand. The cry of pleasure that followed was intoxicating to hear.

“You are too far away, brother,” Tyelkormo called softly, lifting his head. The sight of his brother touching himself inflamed him and made him desire his embrace also. “Come closer,” he invited, his breath hitching when Findaráto rose to his knees and gathered him into his arms, “and join us.”

Curufinwë inched closer and took his place by Findaráto’s side. “Do you agree to this?” He husked, tilting his cousin’s chin toward him with the crook of his finger. “Do you agree to me joining you both?”

Findaráto did not answer. He sought his cousin’s lips instead, so overwhelmed was he by the fire already pooling low in his belly. Curufinwë responded in kind, playing with himself even as they kissed. The hours drifted unnoticed after that, and those ensconced safely within the warm, dry tent embarked on a wholly different diversion, one they agreed would take place only between the three of them.

[gardensofthemoon]

Inspired by this spectacular piece for a Nargothrond trio ficlet. To this day, this is one of my all time favourite artworks.

'The Reluctant Bride' but it's the Nargothrond trio 🌹✨ • prints!

[feanope]

Curufin in Nargothrond

[tar-miki]

tyelko won’t leave them alone for a damn minute-

[elevenelvenswords]

Badly summarised WIP game!

Tagged by the lovely @swanmaids - cheers! :3

Passing the tag to @curufiin @gardensofthemoon @polutrope @crackinthecup @fraeuleinfriedhof @meadowlarkx and anyone else who wants to give this a go <3

[cerulean-shark]

Curufin: Finrod says he thinks you're an annoying jerk.

Celegorm: It's a pet name.

[cochart]

Nargothrond trio.

Celegorm’s shirt (or lack thereof).

[tolkien-feels]

is it Too Much to just ask the whole relationship ask meme for all permutations of the nargothrond trio (túrin/gwindor/finduilas)? except for the ones for which the answer isn't that interesting, like "when did they meet" for gwindor and túrin bc. we know that

I..... got more asks than I expected. So can we compromise and treat them as a trio rather than going through every permutation?

Also fair warning that I haven't read CoH in FOREVER so their Silm versions are much clearer in my mind and that might change things somehow.

When I think they became friends (if canon already hasn't showed how they became friends)

I don't think I actually have any headcanons about this? 🤔 Do you have any I can adopt?

My favorite scene of them

When Gwindor tells Finduilas to go ahead and be with Turin, though she should be careful, and Finduilas tells him Turin won't love her. The way they love each other and yet both mourn not being loved by the person they love, it's so good. I also love how that's followed by the three of them attempting to continue this conversation as a group but never being in the same room when they do that, but that's just because it's so funny

A random headcanon I have of them

Smiles are a big deal for them. Often if they are together and one of them smiles the other two look at each other like "!!!! We did That!!!!" because they just want each other to be happy and life has been trying pretty hard to make them Not That, you know?

My favorite thing about them

They try so, so hard. Like, they all react in the most adult way possible to the whole love triangle/shared trauma situation and I can't emphasize enough how much I love that - I would actively hate this storyline otherwise. I was fully expecting Gwindor would hate Turin and Turin would scorn Finduilas and Finduilas would act like a teenager..... But nah. Everybody is surprisingly sensible.

A scene I wish we had of them

Just them... hanging out. Not gonna happen in Tolkien, I know. But you know how in movies if something bad is going to happen to someone you get a cute little scene to make you feel worse when the bad thing happens? I want that

A scene with them that I want to rewrite/change in some way

I went through all scenes I can remember and none? CoH might have one, but I don't remember CoH enough 🤔 One of the reasons I'm planning a re-read this year

What makes me like their friendship

I am not immune to heartbreaking tragedy. I'm a Turin apologist (...ish), so as far as I'm concerned, these are three very good people whose lives are ruined by Morgoth, and I can't get over it

Who I think is the ”crazier” one

I struggle to think of any Tolkien character crazier than Turin

Would I change anything about their friendship?

Not really? I think I would have wanted Gwindor and Turin to be closer than they seem to be, but that's a problem I routinely headcanon away anyhow

A song that reminds me of them

It's more of a Gwindor/Finduilas song, but I have to mention Storybook by Heather Dale.

One that might work for all of them might be Mars by Sleeping at Last 🤔

Which one of the friends can I relate to more?

...none? Finduilas maybe? Just because I'm not as strong as Gwindor and not as bold as Turin, but I at least try to have Finduilas's kindness.

A word to describe them

Oh that's so boring but: tragic

What I think would have happened if they never met

Hm... Turin continues to be cursed, so some sort of equally horrible tragedy I'm not creative enough to come up with. Gwindor and Finduilas would probably be happy or at least happy-ish together. Not sure what would happen to Nargothrond politics without Agarwaen and his brilliant ideas, though. I'm Very Bad at AUs. I'm inclined to agree with Gwindor's assessment.

If I can picture them to be more than only friends

OT3! OT3! OT3! If Tolkien wasn't a coward he would've gone there. If there's a mortal who could be in love with not one but two elves at the same time it would be Turin and I think this could have all sorts of fun worldbuilding implications. I don't even know if I want this for characterization reasons, it's more because it adds more chaos to the CoH mess by hitting LaCE with a hammer :D

If I would want to be friends with them

Hell no. I'm not getting near anyone who has 10 degrees of separation from Hurin.