#no idea how tall finrod is

[likesdoodling]

So. I read a really cool fic recently called The Harrowing by Chthonion which I would highly highly recommend-

I absolutely love it so much-

:D:D

I'm gonna go with how my sister recommended it to me, since that was what got me excited about it-

Imagine~ Sauron trying to be a good person. And having a very hard time of it because he has these things... I've heard they're called 'feelings'... Anyway. He's finding it a bit hard to deal with, but long story short, think Sauron getting a second chance and go from there.

And if you have read it-

Then you probably know exactly which moments I'm referencing here, but just in case,

No. 1 is Finrod, just before Annatar is about to have his first full on emotional breakdown, and the No.2 is Maedhros saying thank you. Which is fairly obvious. But still.

I love this fic so much!!!

(this is definitely not the last fanart I'm gonna do from this. Chapter 39 has some amazing moments that I am so gonna draw when I next have time~)

[annoyinglandmagazine]

One of my favourite things to come out of this fandom is the idea of awkwardly tall teen Maedhros. Just yes. Like he has so many ridiculous growth spurts for so much of his life. And during them he’s constantly getting pains and has like zero coordination. He’s also the gangliest teen ever. He’s like a twig.

He bangs his head on doorframes. A lot. Feanor eventually just removes all the doorframes in his house because how dare they injure his son. Himring has no doorframes whatsoever because of exactly this as he doesn’t want to constantly look like an idiot in front of his army. Maglor installs relatively low doorframes in his hold in the gap just for fun. Curufin tries to get Finrod to do the same but is rejected purely for Turgon’s sake. By the second age it is a political controversy over whether to have low or high doorframes and most people have forgotten why. Galadriel installs them all at exactly her and Celeborn’s height just to be petty.

Everything is a tripping hazard for him. One time at a meeting with Sinda ambassadors and all the Noldor leaders he stumbles after knocking into the table. All his siblings and cousins have to restrain giggles because they are immediately reminded of a montage of Maedhros being knocked over by doorframes and occasionally branches throughout their childhood as well as him tripping onto the floor at important events and once memorably into Finno’s lap. The Sinda have no idea what’s so funny.

[eri-pl]

A fic in need of a name (I'll be grateful for ides, not necessarily will use, but I'll be grateful) and maybe some proofreading

<2k words. No TWs, very fluffy. Lúthien and Finrod talk about art.

One warning: IDK how to explain, but: my friend dfw and everyone else who sees Lúthien as unfairly treated well by the narrative: I do kind of admire this unfairness in this fic. Also, she has an …intense personality here. Read at your own discretion.

Lúthien looked at Finrod with her strange, Light-filled-but-not eyes. “Why are my songs so boring to you?”

They stood under the stars and the new moon, in a small glade, now filled with nightingales that looked at the princess of Doriath and whistled, as if pleading her to continue.

“I would not call them boring.”

“You do not say it, but they seem dull to you. Dear cousin, you don't need to speak in courtly lies with us. Never. We are not— hypocrites.” She almost said “Noldor”, he could feel it from her. So who was the hypocrite there? The princess continued: “I simply seek to know how to sing better.”

Despite being born from an union of an elf and an Ainu, she was in many ways like a child. All the Sindar were so. Finrod smiled, but didn't try to conceal his thoughts about the conversation. There were some secrets he needed to keep from her keen mind, but if his feelings could be revealed without enraging anyone…  “They are beautiful, but there is never any conflict in then,” he said gently, observing Lúthien's reaction.

It wasn't anger, but surprise. “Why would a song need strife to be good?”

This gave Finrod pause. How could she have questioned something as obvious as one of the fundamental laws of art? But indeed, the ancient songs — from the Journey, and even the early ones from Aman — did not have any strife in them. Just like hers, they were about things and people simply …being. 

He pondered about it for a while, until the answer came to him. “Without conflict, there's no change. No progress. No clear point to end the song.”

“You end the song when you don't want to sing anymore. Or when you want to sing a different one,” said Lúthien in a tone that was half curious and half patronizing. “Besides, we didn't really have time until recently. At least we didn't have anything to measure its passing. Maybe except me and Daeron maturing. Hey! This is a change. Cherries blooming, bushes growing — that's progress. Walks in the woods—” she put the last idea into action, leaving the glade.

Finrod joined her and they went between the tall beeches, on the forest floor filled with violets and niphredili. “A song about nature never really reaches any destination. Flowers grow and die, and then new ones come to life. It's not a true change.”

“You can't simply replace a rose with another, or a yesteryears’ snowdrop with the next springs’ one. Hmmm, you're a Noldo, you do not know flowers well enough to notice them, so maybe you could. But even then: we do change. We grow. I was a child and now I'm a woman.”

Finrod didn't reply and for a while they just walked.

“You need songs that are about sorrow, don't you?” asked Lúthien softly. “Due to— your king and all that.”

“And all of that… Yes. I think we do. We do need art which promises a change mightier than just the turn of seasons, which tells us that the darkness may one day end and makes it almost— makes it possible to believe. And to achieve this, you do need to start with the darkness.”

“I was born in darkness, dear cousin. Under the stars,” she said, gesturing at the sky, but the moon’s narrow crest peeking between the branches spoiled her reference. 

“I mean a different kind of darkness, sweet child of the stars. Deeper. Not a darkness that never saw light, but darkness that saw light and—” Finrod shivered. “Darkness that comes after the light is gone, not before it's born. Darkness without a single star to break it.”

“I don't think I can imagine it. Still, I'm sure there is a way to sing interesting songs without making them all about violence.”

“Not all conflict is violence.”

“But it's all— you, Noldor, absolutely love to argue. We try to understand each other instead.” 

“So do I.” 

They awoke a sleeping deer at a distance, but it didn't run away like most beasts of Beleriand used to, it only watched them cautiously.

“Well, this is true, you don't argue that much. Anyway, maybe that's it. When people meet and get to know each other more, it also grows in time. And it means more than flowers.”

“Maybe. Is that how you see art here in Doriath?”

“No. As Daeron sees it, the supreme art is: you see a thing. Then you see another thing. Then you see them together in a way that awakens new meanings in both of them. And then you weave all that into words with enough alliteration. The same with music: you play a motive, then another motive, and then you marry them to each other. This makes the verse, the chorus and the ending.”

They entered a denser part of the forest and now walked a narrow path, surrounded by blackberries, bushes and ferns.

“What if the motives don't fit together?”

“He would say it means you're a mediocre musician. But… I think if they don't fit you need to find a way to force them. Or, rather, help them. Change one or the other into a different mode. Or change the tuning. Or keep playing the harp but add singing to it and tell everyone that it had been your plan since the beginning.”

“You can't change the rules of art.”

“What force is going to forbid me?”

Finrod laughed. “I don't think it's that easy, but maybe you are right. Maybe there is a way to reconcile both of our ideas. To create art that is not boring, but not violent either. But I do not know where to even start looking for inspiration.” Right now, the bushes clinging to his clothing and pulling on the delicate embroidery weren't particularly inspiring. 

“You always seek something, wandering here and there. I'm sure you will find a lot of wonderful inspiration.”

“Don't you want to travel?”

“Oh, I love to travel!” said Lúthien in a laughing voice. “But in Doriath you can discover wonders too! Maybe the same answers that you seek far away I'll find in here. Or maybe we'll both find sorrow.”

Finrod blinked. That had been a strange turn of the conversation, but not the first of them. “I don't think beauty can exist without sorrow.”

“Then should I wish sorrow beyond measure for both of us?”

“That would be a very Noldorin approach to art, wouldn't it?” he asked half-jesting, but curious.

“Sorrow and strife aren't the same.”

“How are they not? Sorrow is born from loss, and loss is born from violence.”

“When I was a child, I cried about clouds disappearing, because I knew I'd never see any of them again. And yet nobody took them away from me by force. And I wouldn't fight for the clouds, as that would make no sense. So I remembered them. But it's not really the same.”

As Lúthien spoke, they entered a small clearing and, as if responding to her, a small cloud hid the moon and hung above them, backlined with silver. A few others passed nearby: fuzzy dark shapes, but not as dark as— Finrod looked away from the sky, back at the princess.

“You could see clouds in the starlight?”

“Of course. Can't you?” She looked back at him with wide eyes.

“Not with enough detail to miss them. I never looked much into the sky anyway, not back then.”

They left the clearing. The forest was even darker now, but there was a peace to it.

“You Noldor are so strange. I wish I would know you better.”

“I wish I could understand you better too.”

“I have an idea.” Without saying more, Lúthien led him to a small grassy hill, not even as tall as the surrounding trees. A narrow path went upwards. “I'll show you another way in which we entertain ourselves here—well, I do— but first tell me, cousin, what would you want if you could wish for anything?”

“To meet my loved ones again,” said Finrod quietly. “I'm not sure how this would happen, unless— but even then… I'm sorry. You deserve better than hearing about any of that.”

“Only so little?” Lúthien laughed, though it felt forced. “I want everything! I want a love like my parents’, but let it be even more so. I want songs to be sung about me— not only by Daeron — songs that even to you would sound interesting. I want to behold the most beautiful treasure in the world. I want to be free and to fly. I want to sing a song mightier than my mother’s. I want to seek a star and wear it as a trinket. I want—” She paused as they reached the top. “No, now it's your turn. What would you want if you could ask for anything?”

“I want there to be a solution to all that.”

“All what?”

He looked away. “All the darkness I won't trouble you with.”

“If you won't, surely someone else will.”

“Even so, I shall not.”

“Then try not to trouble yourself with it either, at least for now. Only look.” Lúthien lied on the hillside and tumbled down, like a log, if logs could laugh loudly. 

She rose from the grass at the bottom and began walking back. “You are humble and I do ask for so much. But it's alright if I can't have any of that. I'm not stubborn. Well, I am not as stubborn as some believe. But if I can, I do want all of my wishes to come true. And I want to travel. To see strange lands beyond stormy seas, cities both old and young and alien, new countries my mother never knew, never dreamed of… To have my home there. I hope I will not miss her too much.”

“You know such places may not even exist. Except maybe one—” Finrod shivered at the very thought, even though they were miles South from there and under Melian’s Girdle. “—but nobody would ever go there of their own will, especially not someone like you, sweet princess. And about all other lands your mother could surely tell you. After all—” 

Lúthien waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, she saw the world before it was born and sang it into being. It's boring how everybody keeps reminding me about that. But she is also my mother. Of course I desire to reach beyond her, that's how it is with mother's and daughters. Also, how would you know there's no place unknown for her, Noldo? You've barely seen any of Beleriand, and yet you try to tell me how the world is?” Her words were a challenge, but her tone was friendly.

Finrod bowed his head. “That is true. Neither of us have seen much yet. But if you ever find such a place…”

The princess stood next to him again, picking leaves of grass from her hair. “I will surely show it to you. Though you could probably wish for a better guide.” 

Finrod smiled, remembering the chaotic string of excited tangents that the last few days have been. “Many things could be better, your guidance isn't by far the first of them. And anyway I am really glad to be here with you, Lúthien. You are very kind and fascinating. And I'm honored to learn the customs of your people.”

“Like tumbling from tops of hills? It's not a very Noldo—”

“That's the point.” Finrod lay on the grass and let the steepness of the terrain pull him down. 

It felt only half as bumpy as he'd expected, and in its strange, wild way liberating.

[lassieposting]

Anyway on the subject of the Ainur being Higher Forms Of Life, things I think would be hilarious: Morgoth/Sauron lowkey finding it difficult to tell the elves of the First Age apart.

Like. Human beings can tell lesser primates apart very easily...by species. Gorillas are massive. Orangutans are orange. Mandrills are brightly coloured, and tamarins are tiny and cute. But if you ask a human to tell apart the different individuals of a gorilla troupe - unless that human has spent a lot of time observing/interacting with/studying the gorillas - they're gonna struggle. Because to the average human, gorillas all look the same.

Perhaps that is also true of the Valar and the Maiar. Little babby Mairon knows the races of Arda as well as any of his kind: elves are tall and fair, dwarves are short and hairy, men are a scruffy bunch who multiply faster than rabbits, and ents are trees who talk. Easy-peasy.

But like. While the Ainur who live in Valinor shelter and protect - and therefore, spend a lot of time with - the first elves, and come to know how to tell them apart as their own kind do, Mairon spends that period of his life metaphorically sneaking off to smoke and set fire to things with Melkor, so he doesn't get that extended contact. Most of his interactions with the early elves take place either from a distance - as in, he's directing Morgoth's troops and keeping track of intelligence on the opposing army - or on the battlefield, where a) he's wearing a helmet and b) so, if they have any sense, is his enemy.

So like. He still thinks they all look alike. One tall, blond, fine-featured elf is much the same as another, honestly, and their fëar don't look that different to him either.

(If Galadriel were to show "Halbrand" a memory of her childhood, of herself with her three golden brothers, Sauron would not be able to immediately pick out which was Finrod, despite having come face to face with Finrod before. Nor, most likely, would he be able to tell Aegnor and Aegrond apart.

Galadriel herself, on the other hand, he'd be able to pick out instantly, even though elflings all look the same to him. Because he's spent long enough with her that he knows her mannerisms, obviously. It's got nothing to do with being able to identify her fëa among a crowd of other fëar. Sentimental? He's not being sentimental. You're sentimental. Shut up.)

Bonus thought: When it comes to men, though, the board probably flips. Men are not taken to Valinor when they awaken, they are not sheltered by the Valar, they do not go there after death. Sauron has had more close contact with men than any other Ainu save the Istari - he rules them, treats with them, leads them in battle, learns to whisper in the ears of their kings and play them like music. His human disguise is virtually faultless; he can feign humanity so convincingly that he doesn't trigger the uncanny valley effect at all until he knows he's been caught out, and we see him drop the act.

But most of his fellow Ainur have rarely (if ever) directly interacted with the race of men. So I think it would be deeply funny if, when Elrond and Galadriel show up to Valinor with two hobbits in tow, the Ainur react like...well, like that one tumblr post of well-meaning angels unintentionally getting Real Fucking Weird about trying to set the humans they appear to at ease. Or their idea of mannish customs has been influenced by the stories told by dead or returned elves who met a weird man once, and so they're expecting and trying to accommodate some really odd behaviour that has the Hobbits like, what? No? Why would we do that?

[thelien-art]

For the idea ask game, would you do Mîm and Maedhros, please?

This got a bit long... ups, but thanks for the ask :) <3, made me think about the dwarves as a whole a bit more

Mîm:

First impression: Something is fundamentally wrong with this guy for forgiving his son's murderer and simping (?) over said murder...

Impression now: I hate him so much okay? Like that little bastard tried to kill Finrod in his sleep! AND!! And betrayed Túrin and Beleg!

Favorite moment: The three hunters original!! No, never mind, he betrayed them because of his dislike for his son's murderer´s situationship… - I think it´s a bit funny that he was so jealous of Túrin´s love I believe it was a platonic obsession born from the need for control for Beleg, he might just be one of the first "if I can´t have you no one can"

Idea for a story: Redemption Túrin gets to kill him, instead of Húrin, right before dying as he takes Mîm in trying to claim the treasure for himself, and Mîm´s course gets so much more fucked up because it gets mixed with Túrin´s own.

Unpopular opinion: His curse wasn´t swag enough. I love angst okay? It would have been so cool if we had more stories about the cursed treasures, more than just the Nauglamír.

Favorite relationship: Death :) I would like to know more about the petty dwarves, so I guess his family ties...?? Although, I think it was a bit... complicated... with his sons at least...

Favorite headcanon: Upon his death Glaurung let some of his power out which Mîm somehow got maybe because he was the most wicked near?? that made him able to cast such a precise and powerful curse.

Maedhros:

First impression: First born of a "mad" king? I know to many fairitales to know how this is going to end, but I do like tall ginger dudes with long hair :)

Impression now: Favorit depressed ginger elf I want to throw against the wall as a bouncy ball. He´s a horrible guy, but man I love his tragic story and his tries for redemption (?) before realizing it´s all hopeless... I love him so much, one of my favorit.

Favorite moment: "A king is he that can hold his own or else his title is vain" like this little fucker grew up in a political world, and he has seen so much shit and he will not take any more!! I just love how ready he is to mock people and call them out on their BS. - although I think the quote carries a bit more than that, I don´t think Maedhros is mocking Thingol, even though that is who he speaks about. Thingol IS Lord of Beleriand, as all Sindar heed him, so I think Maedhros with his little speech managed to both get people over on his side, questioning Thingol, while still acknowledging his Lordship, and mock Morgoth, all in the same breath.

Idea for a story: An AU where he didn´t give the crown to Fingolfin. Maybe they shared kingship to prevent a civil war, or maybe Fingolfin thought that as long as he at least could be the right hand of Maedhros he would do everything to prevent a civil war as none of them would survive a civil war with Morgoth still there. I don´t know, I just see a lot of potential in this kind of AU :)

Unpopular opinion: Maedhros did grow up in a politically tense environment, although I´m not sure how much he felt of it as little, and I think it affected a lot of how he sees the world and how low he is willing to go for things he wants. I don´t think he´s a nice guy, and I´m not sure I ever believe he was a nice guy, I think he´s willing to lie and kill (as is seen) to get what he wants, although he prefers the... cleaner way. I see his story as a story about how someone can fall and what reasons are behind it and what pushes the character to their actions. Just make it as tragic as possible. He´s a tragic hero to me, one who did so much, yet still failed.

Favorite relationship: Platonic or romantic, either way, Fingon. From one day I see them as platonic the next as romantic, but I love their relationship so much, like they WILL, one HAVE, save each other both from themself but also from straight up hell!

Favorite headcanon: The closest brother to him is Caranthir!! And they got even closer after Angband where Caranthir was the one to help him teach him to use his left hand, here he also learned how to sew for the first time, as he needed to do something he hadn´t been good at before to show that he wasn´t bad he just needed practice!

My impression of character...

[kitcat22]

Au idea where Turgon who is still Turukáno falls through the ice and dies on the Helcaraxe instead of Elenwe.

The dude is seriously tall and and the ice beneath him is thin so he falls through while carrying idril who still survives. Maybe he sinks so deeply they cant retrieve his body or maybe he dies of hypothermia or a fever afterwards lying sickly in a bed covered in fur and blankets with his daughter tucked up against him and his father and wife holding each of his hands. By the time Fingolfin arrives in Beleriand he has lost two sons instead of one and is even angrier than before. Idril grows up with her mother Elenwe who neither forgives nor forgets her husbands death. Maybe Gondolin never gets built seeing as Elenwe is one of the Vanyar (or because shes a women, but that depends on how you think elves view gender) or maybe the Noldor respect her as one of their own, the golden widow of one of their favourite princes and mother of one of their only princesses, who endured the grinding ice alongside them when her people refused to. I don’t see Elenwe being as favoured by Ulmo as Turgon was but maybe Ulmo still sends her visions out of love for Turgon and Idril. Maybe she builds Gondolin from the designs she and her husband drew together of a settlement in Beleriand during many cold restless nights. some things still change but this Elenwe hates the feanorians just as much as her husband might have in another world. Finrod also probably finds it harder to forgive Curufin and Celegorm who caused the death of his best friend. Aredhel definitely doesn’t forgive them not until long after shes reborn alongside her brothers. She and Elenwe either have an incredibly close relationship co raising Idril and are very dependent on one another or have a more complicated relationship were sometimes, just sometimes Aredhel cant help but wish it had been Elenwe instead. Elenwe who had been standing where her brother had stood mere moments before the ice cracked. Some times Elenwe wishes the same.

[doodle-pops]

Kinktober List of Requests 2023

Here is the list of the selected pairings and requests I have chosen for the event. Please note that for some kinks, you will observe more than one request was selected. I did my best to briefly explain the reason for my choices to help you understand.

Corruption Kink — Eönwë x reader (@wandererindreams)

Hi once again! Would you be willing to write Corruption kink with Eönwë? Reader had always been a pure, gentle soul, and while they weren't exactly naive in general, they trusted Eönwë with their life. They would do anything for him. Things they would make them blush beet red just merely having them flash through their mind. And Eönwë can't quite get enough of downright kinky things he could ask of them and watch them perform them or submit to him with such devotion...

Exhibitionism — Irmo x reader (anon)

Hello Mina, hope you’re having a good day so far :) can I request the exhibitionism kink with Irmo where reader is interested in public sex but still has slight reservations so instead, he creates a dream where he takes her in front of others so she feels more secure with the kink?

Fingering — Thingol x reader (anon)

Listen!!! Thingol is a huge tall hunk of an elf right?! So tat obviously means that he has large hands. What if those hands were the source of your pleasure? Thingol using his hands which you love so much to finger you nice and slowly in his private garden.

Size Difference/Stomach Bulging — Celebrimbor x reader (anon)

Hi Mina! Ahhhhh I’m so excited for kinktober this year! Can’t wait to see what you come up with!! Size difference with either Celebrimbor or Rog please? It’s been a rough day in the forge (nothing seems to be going right) and reader offers herself as a way to release the frustration (in short, hot sex in the forge with a big boy please and they splay their hand over your stomach bulge as they take you <3)

Squirting — Turgon x reader (anon): I like the idea of incorporating both prompts while keeping true to the main kink to produce one fic.

For the squirting kink, Caranthir or Turgon x reader please, like maybe both of you are pushing your limits to see how many orgasms you can fulfill in one session and they're either fingering or having sex with you and you're so overstimulated that you squirt on them for the first time? Thank you!

Fingering with Turgon please? Turgon notices how you stare at his hands in a lustful manner, since they’re huge, you come to realize you have a hand kink and want to fulfill that hand kink in the bedroom with fingering?

Thigh Riding — Fëanor x reader (anon)

Hiiii, I've noticed that there isn't much (good) Feanor smut anywhere (basically only a very few blogs write him so well, like you for instance)  and you know how much of a simp I am for this fiery baby... Can I have a time when Feanor is having reader thigh-ride him? I feel like he would really love that, and maybe add some edging until he finally lets her cum?

Mirror Kink — Finrod x reader (anon & @wandererindreams): the description of both will be merged into one fic since both requests carried the same pairing.

Mirror kink for Finrod and an artist!reader, who is a bit shy about their appearance? Do you think as well that it would be delicious? Like...she sees beauty everywhere (especially in Finrod) but rarely in herself?

Finrod x reader with mirror sex kink, basically its on their wedding night and reader is kinda insecure with their body, and finrod tries to make them feel better by showing them that they're perfect just the way they are. Thank you 💖

Bondage — Ecthelion x reader (anon): description of both will be merged into one fic since both requests carried the same pairing.

Girl I’ve been up since 7am ready for this. 😎 Let’s goooooooo!! Party! Ecthelion x Reader - Bondage. If you need a couple sentences: scene starts with him tying her arms behind her back and making her suck him off to “earn” her orgasm. After that he ties her to the bed for some teasing and overstimulation. Bonus if you can fit a spanking in there somewhere but I understand if not. Pick whatever bondage/rope position appeals the most to you. 👀 I’m a certified rope bunny so I can get down with them all. ❤️ Appreciate you doing these requests ahead of time!

Oh I am so ready for kinktober Mina! For the bondage kink, requesting Ecthelion x reader where he keeps reader tied /chained to his bed for a day (consensually!) free for him to use whenever he wants (i.e. After a meeting to blow off steam, after doing paperwork, for his own pleasure, etc.)

Threesome — Finarfin x reader x Fingolfin (anon)

Good morning/evening, my fav Tolkien writer! 🩵 if you don’t mind, can I ask for a Threesome with Finarfin and Fingolfin when they were younger and sharing the reader in bed? The reader is their friend and a daughter of a lord and her, Finarfin and Fingolfin were all having to have a ballroom dancing lesson. The brothers are taking turns spinning the reader around and having fun but when the reader gets passed to Finarfin the instructor leaves, but they don’t stop dancing with each other and things get a little heated. Fingolfin complains about the lack of attention and he suggests taking the reader to his bedroom inviting his brother to share the her with him. And just pure smut from there I guess? Anyway, thank you for your time! Bye!!

Cockwarming — Maedhros x reader (anon): I liked the descriptions for both and found them similar, so I decided that I will merge both into one fic, keeping true to the main kink.

Hi there, can I request Maedhros x reader for the kinktober cockwarming kink? For the scenario/prompt, maybe a scene where reader is struggling to stay still while cockwarming Maedhros while he’s doing paperwork since he’s so big and just simulating her all the time?

Hi Mina! Exhibitionism with CEO! Maedhros please? Maybe a co-workers has been getting too close to reader lately and Maedhros gets jealous so he engages in sex with reader over lunch to establish dominance and leaves the door unlocked/a sliver open when he knows that coworker would be coming in to give a report soon?

Brat Taming — Erestor x reader (anon)

Hi Mina! For the brat taming kink, requesting Erestor x reader where reader has been teasing Erestor all day but at the end of the day, reader is reminded of their place behind closed doors

Somnophilia — Elladan x reader (anon)

Hello darling Mina! So may I request Elladan x reader and the somnophilia kink where he comes back late from a scouting mission in the north and sees reader having a wet dream so he 'helps' her and then she slowly wakes up? Thanks :)

Vanilla Sex — Argon x reader (anon)

Hi Mina! I’m really excited for what you come up with for this year’s kinktober! Sending you a request for vanilla sex with Argon please? Prompt/scenario would be him taking your virginity :) thank you!!!

Dacryphilia — Námo x reader (anon)

Hi Hiiii! Is there room for a Namo and female reader for dacryphilia. I would just love the idea of reader showing Namo how much he’s pleasuring her so good by her crying out in ecstasy. Cue Namo loving the way she cries and finds her tears beautiful and increasing the volume of pleasure. Maia!reader perhaps? Thank you so much!!!

Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs — Elrond x reader (anon)

Hello! Can I request Elrond x reader with the Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac kink, and the scenario is either he accidentally mixes up some herbs and so he's the one who affected OR the reader stumbles upon it as a present or in the wild and goes to Elrond for help because 1. he's a healer and 2. he's her lover.

Hunter and Prey (Pet/Roleplaying) — Beleg x reader (anon)

Beleg x reader where they’re roleplaying - he’s the marchwarden and she’s his prey (someone not supposed to be in the borders)? Sorry if that doesn’t make much sense!

Cunnilingus — Glorfindel x reader (anon)

Cunnilingus with Glorfindel. Perhaps it’s the first time him and reader is meeting (back in Valinor or Imladris) at a ball/party and the sexual tension is high so reader challenges him to show her what his tongue can do since he’s a flirt. Sorry if its all too confusing. A little challenging playful argument between the two and she goes “you think yourself so high and mighty because your speech is impeccable…or rather your tongue!” I hope you can use the dialogue, or maybe make a change but go along the lines of it.

Breeding/Impregnation — Fingolfin x reader (anon): description of both requests will be merged into one fic since they carried the same pairings.

Good morning/evening, Mina!!! For Kinktober may I request Breeding/Impregnation kink with Fingolfin? Reader is his second wife and queen in ME and she nervously confesses to wanting kids but is surprised when Fingolfin says he wants them too and just some loving, filthy smut? Thanks.

Hi Mina! Requesting breeding kink/impregnation with Fingolfin please! Maybe it’s been a while since reader and him have been intimate and there have been rumors spreading around court that you are not doing your duty in bed by producing an heir, so you entice Fingolfin to bed again by insinuating Feanor is better in bed because he has more children than Fingolfin, which ignites his breeding kink. Thank you!

Lingerie — Curufin x reader (anon): I found similarities in both requests and decided that I will merge them into one fic, keeping true to the main kink.

Hi Mina! For the mirror kink, may I request either Egalmoth, where Egalmoth wants you to see how pretty you are as you come undone for him or Curufin, as he adorns you in the jewellery he’s made for you while taking you in front of a mirror so you see how pretty you are? Thank you so much! Love your writing :)

Hello Mina!!! I’m so happy that requests are back on board baby!! Booyah!! Can I get a curufin with a lingerie kink inspired by your ‘What turns them on’ headcanons you did for the Feanorians. It does have a bit of mirror kink/admiration play in it since Curufin is admiring her just her jewelleries (that’s her lingerie), but you can ignore that and just keep his lover decked out in just her jewelleries for him. Thank you

Body-worship/Praising — Egalmoth x reader (anon)

Reader finds it difficult to imagine someone like Egalmoth, a high and noble esteemed elf of Gondolin would even bat and eyelash in her direction and fall in love. She’s convinced that he was only saying those sweet words to her because he didn’t want to embarrass her or let her down, so he decides to show her that she was very much loved and adored by him ignoring the human aspect.

[blueflipflops]

PLEASE tell us more about these silmarillion x pjo wips 👀

Well since you've asked nicely. Here are some of them:

Warning tho this is a long post. I'll try to keep it short but it probably wont. Read at your own risk :)

Sun Touched and Sweet Music

- one of the most recent ones

After dying slowly on the cold hard floor of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Finrod expected to awaken in the comforting Halls of Mandos, finally getting rest. He did not expect to wake up in the care of tiny blonde sun-themed children in orange tunics intent on bossing him around til he completely heals.

or, Finrod wakes in the care of Apollo Cabin who are so convinced that he is one of them. Needless to say, Finrod adopts these funky little minstrels/healers/archers/artists/etc so quickly.

Here's an excerpt from the drafts:

Finrod stirred by arguing voices that made him think of his siblings fighting about something petty again only to realize just how young those voices sound.

"-you think he's like us? He has the hair for it, don't you think?"

"Hmm... I don't know. Maybe?"

"Nah. We have like, otherworldly gold hair when we come do in blonde. His is has just, I don't know, different vibe to it."

"Yeah like that makes sense."

"You know, like sunlight trapped in each strand kind of blonde."

"Actually," a new voice chimed in, "did you know that using hair for emergy sutures is one of the most effective alternatives to thread when you don't have some on hand. It's organic and compatible to the body's dna so it's less likely to fight it off--"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"None of you are listening, aren't you?"

"No, but I did catch the fact that you can use hair for emergency sutures so I think I at least get points for that."

Free Falling

Glorfindel fell through PJO-verse when he fell from that cliff in the Battle of Gondolin and made friends with prickly demigods

An excerpt from the drafts:

As the Balrog fell with Glorfindel's hair in hir grasp, a blinding light flashed and suddenly they landed on the forest floor. 

Suddenly, before the Balrog could land a killing strike, an arrow whizzed past and hit it through the eyes. It howled in pain and looked in the direction of its origin. That's when Glorfindel noticed them. Unfamiliar armored people surrounded them, lacking the fear and panic of his people as he sent them away to escape.

And suddenly waves of arrows rained down like the gales of Manwë himself. This only serves to anger it as it rampages towards them. The one that looked to be the leader stood calmly, a hand raised in signal as the balrog sped to them not faltering a single step. Laurefindil opened his mouth to scream a warning but his hoarse throat forbids him. The leader snapped a hand to signal towards the monster just as it was a few steps away from its reach and suddenly a large harpoon-like arrow as thick and as tall as a tree shot through from behind them and impaled the Balrog through the mouth. It faltered and stumbled on its feet when another large harpoon-like arrow shot through its side. And another. And another.

"Well. This sure as fuck ain't what we were expecting to hunt but it seemed like the harpoons were a good idea to bring after all."

"I mean, it did make Cabin 9 happy we're using the weapons they made so--"

Glorfindel (Laurefindil) meets Greek demigods and one whom he can't tell whether she wants to help him or finish him off. In this case, he meets Clarisse La Rue.

Death Diving

a variation of Free Falling except he meets a different demigod.

When Laurefindil fell from the cliff, he thought he was dead. Instead, he woke up to a makeshift bed on the forest floor and a deathly pale face with bruising dark bags under their narrowed eyes hovering above him.

or, Laurefindil meets Nico Di Angelo and goes on a life-changing road trip to get him proper treatment. Laurefindil gets introduced to demigod culture and heals both physically and mentally.

No excerpt to share here folks haha :/

Wild Thing

A crossover pairing fic

Celegorm x Percy

originally going for Fem! Percy but dude Percy can go just as well.

It is truly unfortunate that the Noldor is exactly Percy's type. Clever, ruthless, good at fighting, good with kids, and wild as the raging seas. Well, also... blonde.

Here's an excerpt from the drafts!:

"I wish to ask your permission to court your cousin." 

"Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say? My permission? What is this, the Dark Ages? You know what? Since you asked, no. Defeat me in a duel to the death first."

"What?"

"This could only end in two ways. I kill you, Percy will mourn your death but we, her family will be there to support her and help her move on. Or! You kill me and anger Percy to the point that she will kill you in retaliation. Either way, it's a win for me." She brandished her spear to Celegorm. "Square up, pretty boy."

Dance Til You're Dead

a mix of comedy and horror (tbh a bit crack)

An elven troop somehow got transported to the PJO-verse via fairy ring and walked straight into a demigod rave party who, while not knowing who they were, immediately dragged them into joining them on the dance floor. The music was stranger than anything they had ever heard and it felt as if their bodies moved by themselves with every beat.

or, an elven troop got dragged to a magic rave that subtly encourages you to dance and lose your inhibitions. It slowly turns from confusion to reluctant enjoyment to horror as they feel themselves lose control of their bodies as they dance the night away and the next night and the next and the next--

Being elves, they are more auditory than most creatures and more susceptible to music-based spells. The music at the party is more subtle to demigods who only feel the light relief of not having to think much about their problems, these subtle spells are kind of like recreational drugs to them. the demigods at the party are very much informed of the light spells involved in this party. these demigods CAME for these spells specifically to destress. Unfortunately, to elves, this is slowly turning into a fairytale horror film.

I think I like the irony of pjo-verse being the fae in this story lol

At Best, You Find A Little Remedy

obligatory modern character in middle earth Hozier songfic lol

Finrod x Daughter of Apollo! OC Sirena "Nena" Diwata

Already wrote and posted this on ao3 but only from Finrod's POV so he doesn't know that she's a demigod and semi-immortal too. Here's a link to it!

She used to travel with him for a few years before parting ways. Finrod never noticed that his dear friend did not age as Men do as he suspected she died until many years later when he was visited by a descendant of an old friend invoking an equally old oath to help him steal a silmaril as a courting gift that he meets her again.

Here's the summary of the fic! :

Finrod has travelled across the Arda hundreds of times and met many people over the years, yet no matter how long time passes memories of her will always be the clearest and shines the most. Her memory lost among mortals yet her smile, her voice, her songs live on with him.

here's an excerpt from the supposed continuation of it! :

"Well, this isn't how I expected we meet again, Goldie."

"Nena?" he choked out, not quite believing what he was seeing.

"In the flesh. A little birdy told me you've bitten more than you could chew and what kind of friend would I be if I just left it alone? The world would mourn to lose such a pretty face along with your beautiful voice. Such injustice cannot go on."

"You know her?" Beren whispered but Finrod was too busy staring at the woman that felt more like a ghost than anything.

"N-Nena? It really is you? Truly?"

"Well actually it was a horse that told me but! Semantics."

"Also," She started as she kneeled down to open the lock and with a click, "I thought we established that already?" She quickly made work with their bindings as Finrod's heart raced.

Midsummer Tryst

Maedhros x Daughter of Apollo! OC Solana Trinidad

(can you tell that I have a favorite?)

This was also posted on ao3 already though haven't really updated it since I got into other fandoms. Here's the link to it!

Here's the fic summary:

Tryst — a meeting between two people who are having a romantic relationship, especially a secret one Maitimo has been going to this oak tree for years. When the household gets a bit too loud and his responsibilities as firstborn wear him out, that little place by the oak tree is a breath of fresh air. He quietly claims it as his. One day he meets a strange creature by his oak tree who doesn't speak any of the tongues he knows and despite how they met they quickly became friends. But with Melkor's schemes coming to play, how can such friendship last?

Although THIS is what the original idea looked like:

Maitimo has been going to this oak tree for years. When the household gets a bit too loud and his responsibilities as firstborn wearing him out, that little place by the oak tree is a breath of fresh air. He quietly claims it as his.

Well, until one day he meets a strange creature that looks like an eldar yet quite different. The strange creature speaks a strange tongue and seems to offer friendship or maybe companionship?

Maitimo's days became more interesting as this curious being accompanied him by the oak tree and despite not knowing each other's language they swiftly became friends.

By this oak tree they learn from each other, share stories, sing songs, laugh together, exchange gifts and compare the differences of their realms.

Before they knew it, they built a home in the secret place they had for their own. For a while they are happy. But as Melkor's schemes come out to play and his Father's righteous fury declares war on the Ainur, Maitimo finds himself with the blood of his kin on his hands and the incessant burning of the Oath within him like a noose tightening around his throat.

How can he bear to see his dear old friend now?

...

"You think I should cut my hair?"

"Why would you do that?!"

"Oh, um, 'cause it's getting kinda hot and hard to maintain? (Plus it is a hassle in fights)"

"Hmm... I'll teach you how to tie it away from your face then"

...

They make a bench by the tree and slowly build it up when they need something or they think it's much more convenient to have until they end up building a whole ass house complete with a vegetable garden and a workshop.

Sol sets up a hammock outside so she plays guitar and sings there while Mae writes his poetry or helps with paperwork for Feanor or cooks inside where he can see her by the window in the kitchen.

Sol makes a magic flower tea set that unfurls its 'petals' when poured tea for Nerdanel as a gift. Each piece was handpainted and edged with gold. 

Mae teaches Sol Quenya and Sol teaches Mae English and Spanish, and then Ancient Greek when asked. 

Feanor is perplexed when he finds Mae's notes written in another language. Thought that Mae was making his own language and asked Mae about it cause he was genuinely curious and very proud of his interests. It came out that Mae's secret friend taught him all this. Even more curious, Feanor asks to meet her too. This makes Mae flustered which everyone caught. Feanor raised an eyebrow.

Feanor: Has Nelyo moved out without me noticing? I haven't seen him in days.

Nerdanel: He does go out more recently. Maybe he's visiting Findekáno.

Meanwhile, under the oak tree: 

Nelyo, living a domestic married life with Sol: I feel like I forgot something...

Last but not the least!

Blessings Come in Small Pakige

kidfic but with MORE kids

And yes. It's supposed to be spelled like that

Less of a fic and more of an idea. Not yet written but I do love thinking about it.

Demigod kids OCs are transported into Middle Earth, meets elves, and then parented against their will. Ft. Elves' near-constant baby fever.

The kids age almost as slowly (from weird Ainu magic) and elves immediately go bonkers.

The kids are still hardwired for battle and very hyperactive. The elves do not know how to deal with that. Still don't know who am I going to drop these kids onto. Though I initially thought of Caranthir or Finrod or Dior or Daeron. All I know is that it is set in Arda between the 1st and 2nd Age and is strictly in the Silmarillion area of the fandom.

This includes:

Cultural difference,

Blood thirsty bbys,

Weird insults/ threats

Singing around a fire is a rather strange ritual to elves but the bbys seem to enjoy doing it before they sleep.

Aw fuck misunderstandings

- elves introduced to camp mom! Percy stories from kids

Weird stories from the kids that shook them elves like Jason being raised by wolves and Percy being named the destroyer ( came up when asked about the names having power thing), etc.

- GAMES! word games, board games, outdoor games, music games, and many more!

Feanorions being absolutely delighted with the many new languages these kids know.

Hope you enjoyed these because my brain won't stop making these crossover fics. I do have more but don't wanna make this any longer and also one of them may be an NSFW crackfic...

I also have been working recently on this Silm x HP fic where Maedhros was reincarnated as a red head Harry Potter if you're interested. Here's the link!

[dalliansss]

prompt: Terrible excuses. Cringe-worthy, awful excuses.

Secret Dating Things

Angrod surveys his younger brother move about, packing loaves of bread in a hardy cloth. Egg is pretending to not notice his scrutiny; the tall, tanned, muscular and flaxen-curled elf moves about, whistling merrily even, as he surveys jars of jam, decides on orange and strawberry, and adds those to the basket.

"Do we have goat cheese?" Aegnor asks, turning to him, cheery, perhaps overly cheery. Angrod narrows his eyes. "Yes. In the pantry."

Egg snaps his fingers, turns heel, and skips off toward the pantry. To Angrod, the nightmare of the year past where Egg and Finrod had their most terrible quarrel seemed inexistent. He remembers it still, how he and Edhellos were hard-put, panicking, unable to know which brother to pacify first: Egg, who was shouting vitriol and words of hatred toward their eldest brother -- or Finrod, who has never raised a voice against each one of their siblings, but on that day only fury was on his face, distorting his visage even.

I will never grant you that blessing even if you crawl for it! Finrod had screamed, and it was terrible to behold. Angrod might not have been the object of his ire, but this was Finrod, who never got angry with them, whose patience extended as infinitely as strands of Varda's starlight hair.

But now, one year later. Egg is here, unnaturally cheerful, hoarding food...for what?

When Egg emerges from the pantry with the cheeses, Angrod clears his throat. "Where are you going, Aikanár?"

Egg freezes, still clutching the cheeses. He looks at Angrod like a deer caught in torchlight, smile frozen on his tanned face.

"Picnic," Egg says, smile still stiff and contrived. Of all of Finarfin's children, Aikanár was the most hopeless of them when it came to lying. "I'm going on a picnic...I eat a lot...and I like cheese."

"Huh. And where are you taking this picnic? You won't need that much if you just want to sit by the shores of the Aeluin," Angrod points out.

That smile gets tense. "I'm gonna...." Egg gestures vaguely. Angrod could see him scrambling all of his brain cells for an excuse. "I'm gonna ride a bit. Ladros, you know? See some of my friends from Bëor's-- yes."

"I thought you avoided Bëor's people after the--." Now it is Angrod's turn to gesture.

"Huh? I did? Haha!" Aegnor's smile hitches up, blindingly brilliant, and he hurriedly shoves the cheeses into his loaded basket. "Erm. And then I'll uh, ride west!"

"West...?" Angrod repeats.

"I'm going to picnic with Artaresto, and so there! Stop asking questions! I'm a grown Elf!" Aegnor cries out. Taking advantage of Angrod's surprise at the vehemence, Egg quickly snatches his basket and escapes the kitchen.

Somewhere, a rooster crows outside.

Angrod relaxes in his seat. He sips another mouthful of coffee. Huh. But he does have an idea where Egg might be going. Dor-lómin. A journey that is only five days on horse, really, but Egg will get lost, and the journey will take 8 days, maybe 10. So the food is more for him, really, than a picnic. Though Angrod knows the cheese will go to a cousin of theirs, named Fingon.

A slow smile appears on Angrod's lips. Eru. Finally.

[polutrope]

12, 14 and 15 for Finrod, please 💗

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Darn... I am having trouble thinking of a headcanon that's not canon or widespread fanon. Uhh. He's the shortest of his siblings but he exudes tall energy so everyone thinks he's super tall when he's quite average.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

😭 I can't do this question, I have no idea how to describe fashion. He's fancy.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Oh that's just not fair!! He's so shippable! I guess the one I'm most personally invested in is Celegorm/Finrod. It's so charged.

Thank you for the ask! Character ask game.

[fuckingfinwions]

"I was talking to Finrod the other day, and he said something interesting about Alqualonde," Turgon said from the stool he sat on in the living room.

"Oh? What's that"" Nolofinwe said absentmindedly as he arranged the necklaces for best effect on Turgon's bare chest, being careful not to tangle them with the chains that ran between his nipples and his navel.

"He said that in Alqualonde, there isn't one family member who goes out in just jewelry. Everyone wears the same type of thing."

"Stick out your tongue."

Turgon did, and held still while his father removed the plain silver stud in his tongue and replaced it with one tipped in diamond.

Nolofinwe talked as he worked, outlining Turgon's lips in gold dust. "Alqualonde is a different city with a completely separate kindred of elves, it's no surprise some of their customs are different. With so much time spent in the sea and the wind, I doubt your adornment would last long."

"But have you ever thought of not doing it ourselves? I could attend court just as well in a robe like you or Fingon."

"No, you couldn't. Your are the wondrous display of our family's splendor, and it would be embarrassing if we could not attire you properly. Your ideas would not be listened to, as everyone would just wonder why you discarded our society so thoroughly." Nolofinwe began placing bangles on Turgon's ankles, with pale blue stones that perfectly matched the one at the tip of his cock.

"But it's not fair!"

"You are a prince, and have duties beyond yourself."

"Give it a rest, Turgon," Fingon called from where he was half-reading a book on the couch. "You're the handsome tall one, you fit your role perfectly, just like I have to be the heir and actually pay attention to policy debates."

"Uncle Arafinwe's family are all Noldorin royalty too though, and they don't."

"And that it one of the reasons why Arafinwe is spoken as a Vanya married to a Teler when anyone at court even thinks to mention him," Nolofinwe said. "Now, stand and spin slowly."

Turgon did, and made sure not to show his displeasure on his face where it would ruin the lines of his decoration.

"As always, there is the problem of what to do with the back. Perhaps it's time for another piercing or two."

"Actually, what Turgon said gave me an idea. I have a silk scarf embroidered with silver, and I bet it would fit through the nipple rings. It could wrap around in back as a sort of sash, and the weave is tight enough that any brooches would stay in place."

"Let's try it. If it looks too textile or like we're trying to cover something up, I'll ask Argon to paint something instead."

Fingon retrieved the scarf, which shimmered beautifully even indoors. He wound it first through one nipple ring, than behind Turgon's back, than through the other, tucking the ends of the scarf behind the band. Nolofinwe grabbed a few lightweight brooches, and stuck them into the fabric. He stepped back and looked in over with a critical eye.

"It will do for tonight, it's not such a terribly formal occasion. How does it feel, is anything pinching?"

Turgon stretched carefully, making sure not to tangle or dislodge anything; but if something did fall off he's rather have it happen here than in council. "Nothing's pinching, but the sash pulls differently than what I normally wear through my nipples, and it's a bit heavy. I don't think I can wear this for more than ten hours or so."

Nolofinwe nodded. "That's fine, we should be back long before then and you can go back to your basic set. But King Ingwe is visiting next month, and we will need a more formal way to display your back by then."

"Could we do a heavy necklace? Glorfindel wears one that has a dozen different places for chains to hang and drape more pendants."

"I've seen it; Glorfindel wears it practically every day. We'll find something that won't have your recycling the same tired aesthetic that often."

Turgon sighed, but looked in the hall mirror anyway. He did look beautiful, and the silver strands stood out well on his skin.

[thelordofgifs]

I have NO idea what’s going on here now. Here’s some stuff. It’s so far from being finished. I actually twisted myself into pretzels trying not to kill Maglor, but I think it sort of works? Maybe? After the Gil-galad series I promised myself I’d only write sane stuff for a while but :(

Rewind to the Dagor Bragollach.

When the surviving population of Himlad fled west and south to Nargothrond, along the marches of Doriath, none of the Noldor among them could pass through the Girdle.

People died there, pursued by orcs and spiders, scarce feet from safety.

Thingol... isn't exactly sure he'd do things differently. They were not just any Noldor, after all - they were Fëanorians, followers of Celegorm and Curufin. Many of them were Kinslayers.

But, after, when his marchwardens told him of the mass graves they had made just outside his borders—

The Girdle is a little more permeable now.

Senior marchwardens, like Mablung, can exercise their judgement to bring the wounded to safety.

Not that anyone, in their wildest dreams, imagined that one day the wounded seeking shelter might count Maglor Fëanorion among their number.

Mablung is pretty sure he's going to get in trouble for this. But he decides to bring Maedhros and the unconscious Maglor, both blindfolded and guarded, back to Menegroth.

Of course, Mablung doesn't know that there's currently a Silmaril in Menegroth.

Mablung is now very sure he's going to get in trouble for this.

Thingol is disgusted, but he isn't evil. He agrees to have Maglor treated, and keeps Maedhros, chained to the wall by his left hand, in the same room.

Look, everyone knows what Maedhros has been through. Nobody wants to do this. But the alternative is having the deadliest son of Fëanor loose in Menegroth with a Silmaril, which people want even less.

Maedhros is having such a bad day.

Maglor is getting worse. They've stemmed the bleeding, at least. But it turns out Carcharoth's fangs were poisoned, and he isn't getting better, and he won't wake, he won't wake—

Maedhros is 50% here, watching his favourite brother slowly die in front of him, and 50% back on Thangorodrim, suspended from his wrist.

He tries to focus, at least, when Thingol shows up to interrogate him.

They're both a bit surprised by the other.

Maedhros isn't expecting someone taller than him (he hasn't dealt with that since Turgon fucked off to Gondolin several centuries ago).

Thingol wasn't expecting to see his old friend Finwë's features on the pale troubled face of this Kinslaying upstart.

"Why have you come here, Fëanorion?" he demands.

Maedhros flicks rapidly past the truth and over various plausible and implausible lies. "To apologise most sincerely for my brothers' deplorable treatment of your daughter, and to make amends in whatever way possible."

"Really," says Thingol, taking a risk. "And the Silmaril that you saw borne towards Doriath had no effect whatsoever on you."

Maedhros can't say, "I don't want the Silmaril," not with the Oath clawing at his throat. But he is good at dissembling. Pressing his wrist against the hard metal of its shackle, he says, "What did you hope to achieve, King Thingol, when you set one of my father's jewels as your daughter's bride-price? Did you want our enmity, we who spend our blood to keep Beleriand safe? Did you truly wish for Finrod my cousin's death?"

Thingol can't say, "I only meant to scare him," because that would be pathetic. But Maedhros has given him an opening. "How you dare to speak my nephew's name, when your perfidious brothers sent him to his doom at Gorthaur's hands!"

Okay so Thingol obviously isn't Sauron, but Sauron also favours the form of a tall fair-haired elf-lord and his name has come up and Maedhros is absolutely digging his nails into his hand trying to stay in the here and now, because Sauron isn't here, he isn't here. "Well, what do you plan to do now?" he asks. "You have a Silmaril, and the eldest sons of Fëanor. Are you hoping to ransom us, the way mortals do?"

“Don’t goad me, Kinslayer,” Thingol snaps. “You can stay here and rot for all I care.”

So that was productive.

Thingol stalks off to meet with Mablung, who updates him on the wolf situation - it looks like Carcharoth is drawing nearer to Doriath (the trail of blood they left from their previous encounter doesn't help), but why would he be able to get through the Girdle?

Honestly Thingol has a pretty good thing going right now. He has a Silmaril, his daughter is back, and turns out her husband isn't actually that terrible after all. His biggest problem is how to get the damned Noldor princes out of his city without them attacking anyone.

You know what this situation needs? Another son of Fëanor! said no one ever.

In Himring, Celegorm and Curufin are Not Impressed to find their brothers missing and the guards and stablehands all sworn to secrecy.

(They left all their own followers in Nargothrond. In Himring, things are done Maedhros' way, which is... an adjustment.)

"You try to work out what happened," says Celegorm. "I'm going to follow them."

Even without Huan, Celegorm is a prodigious tracker.

He follows his brothers' trail to the point, north of Doriath, where they evidently encountered another party of elves and some sort of rampaging creature. Someone was wounded, everyone went towards Doriath, and the monster continued on its way.

Tracking Carcharoth is a lot easier than tracking Iathrim rangers on their home territory. Celegorm follows his trail, skirting west around the Girdle.

Eventually he catches sight of Carcharoth up ahead.

Okay, this is weird. Admittedly Melian's magic warps reality a bit here, but Celegorm is sure the wolf is actually weaving in and out of the Girdle.

Well, his brothers are probably inside the Girdle, which means he should be there too, even if Thingol might have him killed on sight.

You thought Finrod was the only one who could wrestle wolves with his bare hands?

Celegorm takes a running leap onto Carcharoth's back.

Meanwhile in Menegroth, Beren, Lúthien and Huan are all having crises of conscience.

"Being chained was the worst part," Beren tells his wife. "To feel that powerless - I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Lúthien is remembering how close she came to losing Beren to his poisoned wound.

Admittedly, Maglor is an elf raised in the Treelight, with all the strength of the ancient world in his bones, but. How much longer will he last?

Huan has gone to wait out the death watch with Maedhros.

Maedhros is very glad to see him, for a given value of gladness, as Maglor's breathing grows fainter and fainter.

Sometimes, when Maedhros has bad nights, Maglor sits up with him, and sings quietly, constantly, throughout the hours of darkness.

Maglor can’t do that for him now. Maglor is dying. But the principle is sound, so he keeps up a steady stream of more-or-less (less. it’s definitely less.) sane babble.

To Maglor: “Stay with me, Káno, keep breathing, listen to my voice, I’m still here, stay with me…” (Not that he thinks this will work, but it sounds nice.)

To Huan: “It was good of you, to leave when you did. Tyelko needed – he needed to know, that it wasn’t right. Do you think – the wolf—?”

To himself: “You did say that it would take the best thing you had left! Why didn’t I listen?”

When it’s really bad, to Sauron: “Shut up. Go away. You aren’t here. You aren’t here. You aren’t here—”

At some point during this litany, Lúthien shows up.

In her hand is a Silmaril.

(to be continued)

In light of recent interesting discourse about Beren and Lúthien's Silmaril theft, and the Fëanorions' priorities in the lead-up to Nirnaeth and after, I started wondering how things might have changed if B&L had managed to steal two Silmarils rather than one. Would pulling the Union together be harder with only one jewel left to draw focus in Angband?

Then as soon as I thought about it some more, I realised the most inevitable path diverged earlier than that.

Then I started writing a fic, got 400 words in, and realised I wanted to actually figure out what happened first. So here's a half (or potentially a smaller fraction) of a sort of bullet point fic/plan/thing, which may or may not get properly written up later. First I need to work out where to go from here.

Angrist was forged by the greatest of the Dwarf-smiths in the master-workshops of Nogrod. It cuts two Silmarils from Morgoth's iron crown before the blade snaps, and Morgoth stirs in his enchanted sleep.

Beren passes one Silmaril to Lúthien, and they run for it.

Carcharoth still meets them, snarling, at the gate. Beren still holds out a Silmaril to ward him off. His hand still gets bitten off.

But when the Eagles come for them, and Lúthien clambers sobbing onto Thorondor's back, she clasps a Silmaril in her hand.

The Eagles bear them towards Doriath, and the Treelight undiminished shines out over Dorthonion and Gondolin.

In chilly Himring, Maglor is shaken awake from nightmares of fire and smoke by his eldest brother, who drags him out of bed and towards the window. "Look! Is that not a Silmaril that shines now in the North?"

Maglor recognises it, of course. Moreover, he recognises the size and shape of Eagles in flight, even at a distance. Recognises, too, that as often as not they bear doom itself upon their great feathered backs.

(His father's jewel stinging his Oath awake, his brother's emaciated bleeding body wrapped in Fingon's cloak - they all mean failure.)

"Thingol's daughter and the mortal must have succeeded," he says. "What can we do?"

Maedhros and Maglor, you see, are Not Happy with the news out of Nargothrond.

That Celegorm wanted to force an elf-maid to wed against her will, after what they heard befell Aredhel—

That Curufin could turn against his favourite cousin, and betray him to his death—

"I am afraid," says Maedhros, "of what it will make us do. What it will make us become."

"We could ignore it," says Maglor, whose first response is always inaction. "Let it go to Doriath—" But it is hard even to finish the sentence, with the Oath choking his words.

And there is a bigger problem: Celegorm and Curufin, who are sleeping now (it is only Maedhros who can be relied upon to pace the fortress by night), will not do so forever. They have already attacked Thingol's daughter once - will they do so again, before she can pass into the safety of her mother's Girdle?

"We have to get to Doriath before they do," says Maedhros, and wonders when his little brothers became the threat to be outpaced.

"And then what?" asks Maglor, who never shies from difficult questions.

Maedhros gives him one of his quick strange smiles. "This is how it works, you know," he says. "Huan has turned from Tyelko. Tyelpë has repudiated Curvo. It turns you into the worst version of yourself, and then it strips away the best thing you have left."

Maedhros has ridden out to claim a Silmaril before, and lost all of himself in the process.

Maglor, too, has been offered all he ever wanted - his dearest brother, returned to him - and turned away for the sake of the Oath he renewed at his father's deathbed.

They are both afraid of what they could become.

They ride out from Himring anyway, swiftly and secretly, before the dawn.

Meanwhile, Thorondor sets Beren and Lúthien down on Doriath's southern border.

Huan comes to join them, and with the power of the Silmaril, Beren is healed sooner than he might have been, otherwise.

The Quest is fulfilled. Beren has no reason to stay away from Thingol's house.

Instead of wandering in the wilds, the lovers return to Menegroth, present a Silmaril, and promptly get married.

Thingol is very surprised (and overjoyed) to see them; the last news he had of Lúthien was that she had vanished from Nargothrond.

In fact, he's just sent out a couple of messengers, led by Mablung Heavy-hand, with a scathing letter to Maedhros Fëanorion demanding his aid in finding the princess.

North of the Girdle: "Hey, isn't that Maedhros Fëanorion?"

"Sure is," says Mablung, who was at the Mereth Aderthad.

"Hail, Mablung of Doriath!" calls Maedhros, who never forgets a face. "What news from King Thingol?"

Well, there isn't news as such. Just... fury.

Maedhros considers the merits of keeping his cards close to his chest versus the dire diplomatic situation he's currently in, and opts to share what they saw from Himring, and what it bodes for Beren's success.

He decides not to share that Lúthien was definitely with Beren, which he knows because his brothers attacked her.

Maglor is not sure how stopping to chat with an Iathren marchwarden is going to get them closer to a Silmaril, but he isn't in the habit of arguing with Maedhros.

Anyway, before the conversation can wrap up, a marauding werewolf appears.

Right. Carcharoth.

The Iathrim make the sensible call and scramble up some trees. Maglor follows a beat later.

Noldor don't climb trees very often. It isn't one of the skills Maedhros has had cause to practice one-handed.

Not that it matters, because he's frozen where he stands, eyes wide and bright and thoughtful.

This is unusual. Maedhros would not be the most renowned warrior of the Noldor if he were constantly dissociating in the midst of battle.

He saves the dissociation for after the battle, thank you.

The wolf is almost upon him.

Well, thinks Maglor, about time I did some saving for a change.

Maglor is not Lúthien. Does he need to be? He knows enough about madness, and enough about torment. He knows how to sing the suffering to sleep.

He drops down from his perch to begin a lullaby.

Carcharoth slows down when he sings, and comes to a momentary halt, and Maglor takes the time to hiss, "Nelyo, run—"

"They burned him," Maedhros breathes, still with that bright faraway look in his eyes that means he is half-lost in memory. "His hands were black and ruined. No evil thing may touch them."

The wolf lunges.

[I want to kill Maglor off here but I'm a coward. so.]

Carcharoth savages Maglor's leg and he collapses.

That brings Maedhros back to himself.

Mablung and his party aren't heavily armed. They were only meant to be messengers, after all. They get a few shots in at the wolf, who runs off, still maddened.

Maglor isn't moving isn't talking and there's so much blood—

(to be continued)

[tolkien-feels]

And still on the subject of Galadriel...

In the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, and behind him stood Galadriel, tall and white; a circlet of golden flowers was in her hair, and in her hand she held a harp, and she sang.

Having emotions about Galadriel in a swan ship (✅ mom), wearing a circlet of golden flowers (✅ dad, arguably), and playing the harp (✅ Finrod)

No idea how to fit her other brothers but I'm going to headcanon Frodo simply missed some key elements because he doesn't know what to look for

[redbootsindoriath]

The other day as I was going through the blog’s backup folders, I found some old drawings that I meant to post throughout the past couple of years and either forgot about or just never got around to (I don’t think there are any here that I’ve posted before, but I apologize if there are).  And I thought “I should probably post these before I go.”  So here they are.  I’m going to put them under a cut because there are quite a few of them.  Most of them are from Children of Húrin.

This one is labeled “glaurung” in my files but he kind of looks more like a dragon version of Jabba the Hutt.  I think it’s because Tolkien mentioned how fat he got while sleeping on the treasure in Nargothrond, so I drew a normal snaky dragon and then tried to imagine how it would look if it gained weight.

=====

Mablung and Beleg coming back from a rainy hunting trip.  If I remember right, it started out as a height comparison drawing and I decided to actually turn it into a full sketch...?

=====

Beleg, Túrin, and Mablung somewhere in Doriath.  I actually remember where I was sitting while I was drawing this...I think it was in February 2020?  I’m pretty sure it was the last drawing I did before leaving for the airport to come to the States and then getting stuck there because the virus stopped all overseas travel for so long.  In other words, this is the last drawing from when my life was still relatively normal.  Just look at how chill all the characters are.  I thought I was only going to be gone for a couple of weeks, maybe a month max.

=====

Those same three characters because I’m predictable.

=====

Remember how some people and dwarves in Middle Earth think that elves are just so creepy and terrifying?  And heck, we know that some of them really were brutal.  Heck, even our golden boy Finrod bit a werewolf during a fight once.  So I was thinking about how Beleg probably resorted to biting during fights now and again if it was the quickest way out, especially since he’s from that first generation of elves that was figuring out how the world worked on their own and they didn’t have anybody around to say “stop ripping the throats out of your enemies with your teeth, that’s really gross and barbaric.”

=====

Speaking of Finrod, here he is.  This was originally part of a Third Age Finrod comic but the idea got scrapped.  I still like this frame though.

=====

Legolas and Gimli talking to Treebeard in Fangorn Forest.  Basically just a little doodle to laugh about how tall Treebeard is even next to characters on horseback.  (Also a squirrel.)

=====

A little set of parallel drawings I did of Beleg and Túrin rescuing each other.  My best friend had written a list of friendship prompts and this one was “Physically blocking them from harm” and I couldn’t decide which character I wanted in which role so I opted for both.

=====

Finrod as a beach boy.  In hindsight it would be even funnier if I had put a tropical pattern on his shorts.

=====

Anyway, thanks for joining me here as I went through my old files in preparation for my hiatus.  Turns out I’m less organized than I thought, but hey, as long as you guys still like the drawings then I don’t mind.

[muse-write]

I’d love to hear something about the Andreth and Aegnor story!

Of course! Andreth and Aegnor are one of my favorite semi-canon relationships in Middle-earth, and this piece is mostly an exploration of their relationship, from their first meeting to their final. That's not to say that it's all written out--I really only have bits and pieces roughly drafted for this, and it's something I need to think about a bit more before working more heavily on it. We get so little information about them and how they fell in love that it can be difficult to fill in the gaps--but also, that's the fun of it, that I can make up practically anything and it's still technically canon.

I have a vague idea that Andreth becomes an unofficial messenger to the Noldorin camp, so she meets Aegnor, Angrod, and Finrod quite a lot and becomes close with all three brothers and Angrod's wife, Eldalote. She is known even in her youth for her wisdom, and she becomes a valuable unofficial advisor of sorts.

I'll leave you with a (slightly abridged) snippet of Andreth and Aegnor's first meeting in the hills of Dorthonion:

An elf-lord, tall and sharp-featured, eyes gleaming in the moonlight, slid from the trees to stand mere feet from her. He stared, and Andreth gazed at him for a long while, taken by the mirthful curve of his jaw and the brightness of his gold hair under the moon. His sharp features were made more so by the braids tying his hair back and the silver circlet resting upon his brow.

Realizing that such a lordly elf as this deserved a show of respect, she dipped her head in greeting. “Greetings, my lord.” He must be one of the lords holding Dorthonion; likely, he’d come up from the Noldorin camp down below.

The elf-lord’s gaze met hers, and he smiled ever so slightly. “Hello, adaneth.” His eyes were so bright, like they deserved to be looking at something much more holy and good than she, than this wretched world of Middle-earth. The gleam there was like the lingering of the last light of sunset, but more radiant.

Andreth felt uncharacteristically self-conscious, and she turned back to stare at the lake. “Are you here for the quiet, too, my lord?”

“This is the best place for it,” he answered simply, and she felt his eyes leave her. A glance told her that he had turned his gaze, too, to the lake, and he suddenly looked very weary. Young, and beautiful, and hair glowing like a candle, but tired and worn. 

Andreth kept quiet. A human maid couldn’t offer an elf-lord much engaging conversation, so she was surprised when he spoke up again. “Do you seek out the serenity of the Aeluin often, my lady?” She thought there might be a note of genuine curiosity in his tone.

How could elves be curious about humans, small creatures as they were next to the grace and beauty of the Eldar?

“In times such as these, it is the only serenity easily offered me.” It was said more grimly than she had intended, but the bright lord nodded. Humoring her, she thought, until he spoke again.

“It is a nice change from a crowded war camp.” There was a bit of easy humor in his voice, nothing like the gravity of Elves that she had heard her uncle Belemir complain of. “And a welcome distraction from hearing Finrod and Angrod always at the other's throat," he continued, humor gleaming in his eyes. She stared, and he seemed to misinterpret her surprise, because he explained, “Even brothers as close as those two can’t go centuries of siege without–”

“You know them?” Andreth burst out, then flushed deeply. “I’m sorry, my lord–”

“Aegnor,” he interrupted, another smile playing on his lips. “And I know them better than anyone, and better than I would like, most of the time. They are my brothers.”

“Oh…” It was barely a breath of a word in the heavy quiet that had slammed down on her. “Oh, m’lord,  you’re Finrod Felagund’s…” She sought words, but there was nothing in the Edain or Sindarin languages that would accurately encompass everything she wanted to say in a coherent way, so the silence stretched on.

Lord Aegnor didn’t seem to mind. He may not have even noticed her surprise, because he kept his stare on the water, seeming entranced by something there. Andreth glanced down, but all she saw were their reflections, the two of them standing side-by-side. Even in the water she thought she could see that light in his eyes. “I’m aware that your people revere my brother," Lord Aegnor said suddenly, "and for respectable reasons. But I am simply his kin, and we quarrel just as yours do.” He gave her another smile, larger and brighter this time, odd on his sharp, solemn features, but it made him look softer.

Andreth simply murmured agreement. She thought of the arguments between kin she had heard developed between the Eldar—the house of Finwe had arguments aplenty to last generations. Perhaps their quarrels were not so similar as Aegnor seemed to think, but Andreth thought that it would not be practical to say so, so she switched topics.

Okay, so that actually ended up being fairly long, but that's what happens when I try to edit as I post! I hope you don't mind the length (it might be all anyone gets for a while...)!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fingersucking

Eh...another discussion, another pairing. I can't remember right now who put this idea in my head, but...

here we are! This one is a little dirtier than the previous ones! Gotta keep you on your toes!

Prompt: Fingersucking - trans character

Pairing: Finrod x trans!Curufin (xCelegorm)

Words: 575

Warnings: Fingersucking, insinuated blowjob, reference to previous sexual relations, seduction, desire, trans!character

Findaráto was lounging on a comfortable chair, awaiting the pleasure of his beloved and redoubtable kinsmen.

He didn’t resent them for taking their time—he was used to such discreet displays of power and independence and didn’t let them faze him.

When, at last, the heavy door swung open, he adjusted his flowing, enticing garments and gave the latecomers a radiant smile.

Behind the façade of the indulgent ruler of his little realm of sparkling stones and soft fabrics, his shrewd gaze took in every minute detail, from Turcafinwë’s protective stance to the almost petulantly haughty expression on Curufinwë’s face.

Findaráto had wondered whether Fëanáro’s Wunderkind, the unexpected, unlikely son amongst so many much-anticipated ones, would come—one never knew with Curufinwë, as his moods were almost as dark and unpredictable as his father’s.

“Welcome,” Findaráto cooed, expertly dissimulating his surprise and growing unease. Turcafinwë was a savage—dangerous and sleek as a silver panther—but he was easily managed when his voracious desires and bottomless hunger were met fearlessly.

Curufinwë, on the other hand, was a different beast altogether.

“Sit and eat,” he invited them, his gestures just a little too expansive to be genuine. Neither one of his guests moved.

“I thought you might want to honour my brother tonight,” Turcafinwë rumbled with a provocative half-smile.

Thus far, Findaráto had never been allowed to so much as lay a single finger on the mysterious and near-mystical body of the younger Fëanorian, and so he sat up instinctively, otherworldly light flaring like torches in his eyes.

He was wary—Turcafinwë was notoriously possessive and had a dangerous tendency to lethal jealousy.

As soon as Findaráto leaned forward eagerly, his suspicions and misgivings were instantly confirmed as a flashing blade was drawn.

“Not so quickly,” the tall hunter drawled. “You overreach, cousin.”

Findaráto lowered his gaze to avoid causing further offence or risking the half-promised delights being withdrawn entirely.

A hand—slender, pale, and yet alluringly strong—was lifted into his narrowed, dull field of vision, and he unhesitatingly pounced on it.

Covering every inch of the enchantingly soft skin, adorned by countless scars of battle and craft, with fervent kisses, he lost himself in the fantasy of Curufinwë’s bare flesh.

Findaráto had known and enjoyed many different bodies, so he was more titillated than disquieted by the inherent, tantalising contradiction within his cousin.

As through a veil of thought-numbing mist, a peal of throaty laughter reached his ears, and then a finger was pushed between his dutiful lips resolutely.

Acting on instinct alone, Findaráto sucked. The digit had a slightly salty taste, and—by the symphony of muted moans swelling like the roar of the ocean—it was evident that everyone in the room knew which forbidden, physically impossible act they were mimicking so awkwardly.

Findaráto felt his ambition stir—in a brazen infringement on the limited rights granted to him, he closed his hand around Curufinwë’s wrist and tugged.

He was no stranger to this illicit deed of devious devotion, and he yearned to flaunt his extraordinary skill.

Thus, he swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks enthusiastically, tracing every curve and teasing every sensitive nerve ending with self-forgotten zeal until Curufinwë all but fell into his lap, shivering and boneless.

“How generous a kinsman you are tonight, Curufinwë,” Findaráto breathed as he closed his arms around that trembling body, bleeding heat and hunger into his flesh mercilessly.

“Go ahead then,” Turcafinwë sighed.

-> Masterlist

@tolkienpinupcalendar Here's another one from me <3

@fellowshipofthefics another one for you too!