#the valar are mysterious and weird

[eri-pl]

Another of the "I apologize to a fictional character for calling them or their actions 'stupid'" posts.

So, what I said the Valar (esp Manwë) were very wrong about not telling the Elves that Men will be a thing… I still think ot would be way better if the Elves knew earlier and not from Melkor (this seems obvious), but I don't think the Valar really made a choice here.

It's hard to explain, because obviously I can't imagine how the Valar think and I have more of a direction than a detailed concept here… but you know how it is when a child asks you things like "Why is it a 'big, red dog' and not a 'red big dog'?" and you're like "?!?…it just is?".

Often we know things without knowing that we know them.

I think this might have been the case with Men—it never occured to the Valar that it's something that needs mentioning, and the Elves never asked enough questions, because idk, it happens. Until they started talking with Melkor and he realized thay don't know and weaponized this.

Melkor is more verbal, more analytical, more "breaking things down to understand them" (or just to break them down tbh but that's a tangent). He would, paradoxically, be better at explaining them to Elves. Or maybe not paradoxically. This may have been a part of his intended job, if he didn't, you know, decide to be evil :f

I imagine that much of how the Valar understand the world and all is like a 6yo understands the grammar of their native language. It's not verbal, not fully conscious in a way. They do not have this innate understanding for things like "how Eruhini work", because this is a new thing. But for the fact that there are Men and Elves and the way they're different… I think that (for the part they do understand) it's this kind of knowledge.

So my apologies to Manwë and everyone involved (no, not you Melkor).

I failed to tell my child that you generally only say "good morning/good evening" once to a person on a given day (ok it's more complicated but, like, you don't say it everytime you see them? At least in Poland?) until said child was, like 10. (Plus a lot of similar stuff) I think not telling the Elves about Men is not something I should criticize.

*sigh* I am better with explaining the Silm than with explaining manners, and I am quite bad at explaining the Silm.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Celebrimbor: Oh, so the Valar sent Glorfindel back??

Elrond, who accidentally necromancied him back to life: Uhhhhh,,

Glorfindel, now slightly eldritch, very excited to be alive again: They sure did!

Celebrimbor: Weird, why wouldn't they send him back with the Istar?

Gandalf, who thinks this is incredibly funny: The will of the Valar works in mysterious ways, Lord Celebrimbor. I'm sure the reasoning behind their choices will become clear in time.

[sansaorgana]

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — You and Mairon were created together by Eru and ever since you remained nearly inseparable. He chose to follow Melkor but you stayed loyal to your gods. Even though he was believed to be slain, you meet your soulmate once again many years later in Númenor where you serve the Valar by helping Tar-Míriel with your counsel.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I started writing this fic like two weeks ago but I got distracted in the meantime with different ideas 🤧 (Y/N) is used here as the Reader's "real" name, therefore I gave her human form in Númenor a name and that is Maneth, which apparently means Departed Spirit. The dynamic between Sauron and the Reader is lowkey inspired by that quote from Wuthering Heights – He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Also, I was very fixated on making the short prologue of this fic sound like it was taken from The Silmarillion but it was a challenge, especially when English is not my first language, so yeah, I have to admit I used "the chat" a bit to help me in the beginning (and only there) 🙈. It didn't write even a single sentence for me, though, it only helped me with reshaping the phrases to sound more like the way I wanted them to be. I have never used AI to help me write my fics, so I feel a bit weird with it but I think the prologue sounds great now, so I decided to keep it this way. However, I wanted to admit to it here because I would feel bad otherwise. Once more – "the chat" did not write even a single sentence for me. I only needed its help with finding better sounding phrases to express what I have already written all by myself and it was only for the short prologue of the story. I didn't put any warnings but I think that – if you squint – it can have a bit of a twincest vibe...? 😳 At least I thought so while writing some scenes but maybe it's just my messed up mind going into such places 🙈 The fic is quite long but I didn't want to divide this one into two parts.

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

MASTERLIST

[cilil]

Nerdanel's origin

Finally getting around to talk about one of my favorite recent headcanons (I have @thecoolblackwaves to thank for motivating me), yet another one that started out as crack and then I fell in love with it.

Tldr: Nerdanel's mysterious absent mother is none other than Aulë.

Here's the idea. We know that Aulë was not only very excited about the arrival of Ilúvatar's Children (a detail about him that was already present in Lost Tales and is very cute), but also wanted children of his own, so much so that he went behind Eru's and Yavanna's backs to create his Dwarves. In the end he got to keep them too, but he had to "put them away" to awaken later and they also live in Middle-earth and not with him (at least not in life).

So when Mahtan and Aulë grew close and started to hang out a lot, they probably got drunk one night and Mahtan confided in Aulë, saying that he'd love to have a child, to which Aulë is like "me too, bestie" and they decide to just have one together. Between Aulë's Ainurin shapeshifting and his apparent ability to just construct fully biologically functional bodies in his backyard, they did just fine and baby Nerdanel was born (I have the cutest mental image of a little girl sitting on the broad shoulders of her big strong forge dads).

Now Aulë and Mahtan decided to keep this a secret, probably because some sort of Valar rules may or may not have been bent a little in the process. What Yavanna would think of this depends on how everyone's own headcanons regarding Ainurin marriages, but it may be a bit embarrassing for her that her husband keeps procreating with either himself or other people who are not her. Also they don't want little Nerdanel to grow up being regarded as a weird cryptid.

So Mahtan proceeded to raise Nerdanel, acting like he totally had a thing with some woman somewhere, and Aulë supported them to the best of his ability, which mostly means teaching them cool stuff.

Nerdanel grew up looking like a normal Elf (huge relief for poor Mahtan), the main indicator of her Valarin heritage being that she's quite strong (she definitely picked up Fëanor and threw him over her shoulder constantly), carrying her statues around on her own without breaking a sweat. Aulë and Mahtan taught her the basics of smith-craft, but since sculpting is her passion, she switched to that and Aulë showed her some cool tricks with that instead.

Inevitably, Nerdanel started asking questions and one day found out the truth about her "mother". She then made Aulë and Mahtan promise that they'd all keep it secret because she wanted to be known and liked for being Nerdanel, not for being some experiment of Aulë's. They agreed and have kept their word. She also never told Fëanor, at first because she didn't want him to become interested in her only for her connection to Aulë and in the years after because she didn't want to damage their relationship. Fëanor remains unaware to this day, though is still impressed by his wife's strength, particularly when it came to doing what she does on top of carrying his sons.

So yeah, that's the idea. Nerdanel also shares some of her core traits with Aulë, such as being free of mind, thirsty for knowledge and strong-willed, but also patient. You could even see parallels between her relationship with Fëanor and Aulë's relationship with Yavanna, as Fëanor and Yavanna both have quite a temper and need a spouse who can take that.

[withallthatisleftofmyheart]

My 2024 fic I'm most proud of

As we're finishing out 2024, what is one thing from your writing this year that you're particularly proud of? And what is one fic you wrote that you would recommend for others to read?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for tagging me @valar-did-me-wrong 🖤

This is very easy for me because I only recently started writing fanfic, so there's only one to choose from (this is a lie lol I've written more than this but I've only posted the one (this is also a lie because I sent Adar x Damrod smut to @baddybaddyadardaddy's ask box anonymously))

Anyway...

I'm proud that I wrote something for the fun of it. Writing is usually a slow and painful process for me. The results are almost always weird, intense, abstract poems and lyrics. Earlier this year, I decided I wanted to get better at writing normal stories with dialogue and action, and I wanted to enjoy doing it. So, I wrote a short story about a ghost cannibalising its corpse, went, "No, not like that!" and started writing fanfiction.

Enter Adar, my ultimate muse. He's got it all: mystery, grey morality, bone-aching melancholy, pretty hair, nice hands, a sexy voice... Plus, he's queer-coded and disability-coded. The most exciting part, however, is that he adds depth to Middle Earth! I've been an orc sympathiser for a long time, so Adar was an instant favourite. I loved that we got to see a lot more of him in season 2!

Which brings me to my fic: Green Shoots and Ashen Earth. His POV is really cathartic but also fun to write. I've especially enjoyed writing dialogue between him and Elrond/Galadriel/Gil-galad, which is wild because I usually find dialogue intimidating.

If you like the sound of a (hopefully) funny (hopefully) heartfelt fic that explores different types of intimacy and deals with grief, trauma, and making amends, this might be something you'll enjoy! Especially if you like your elves to sing and spend time with trees (and fuck each other).

Tagging @wowstrawberrycow @finchxs-reverie @greenleaf4stuff @shestoodintears @mylovelylittleobsessions @baddybaddyadardaddy (but no pressure ofc!)

[edennill-archived]

RoP S2E3 reactions:

It's technically not their fault but Berek means "tag (the game)" in Polish which is a bit funny...

DON'T GO IN THERE! Why are you going in there? I thought horses were supposed to be easily-scared

Ah, it's Isildur. Glad they didn't drag out this pointless mystery any longer.

I'm not even scared of (normal-sized) spiders, but Eeesh

It irks me that it's not my slightly creepy interpretation of Númenórean burial customs, but I'm semi-interested in the funeral proceedings. They cut them too short though.

Unfortunately the stupid blindness plot development is now back. If they wanted diversity points they should have made her disabled since childhood, and it would actually be interesting rather than melodramatic.

I keep wanting to remind these people Pharazon is the same age as Miriel (I mean I guess it might be weird Númenórean aging, but I feel it's misrepresenting things and I don't like it because their messed-up relationship fascinates me)

Huh, I wonder whether he'll trick her with the colours.

Númenóreans cannot choose a king at will!

They brought up stone giants; I hope they won't again. I know they're mentioned in the Hobbit (Bilbo's elaboration imo) but uhh, the movies made a poor use of them and I doubt this would make a better one.

Celebrimor's Celpatine's actor is a really kindly-looking aging man! He just doesn't fit the character at all. Wish they'd found a better place for him.

He actually reminds me of Bilbo...

Why did they have to destroy elven politics to such an extent? The real Gil-Galad doesn't rule Eregion.

Huh, I wonder if that's gonna be Isildur's love interest...

Estrid really doesn't feel like a name for a Southlander

riding horseback together, alone in the forest... 😘😘😘

So Bronwyn's dead. In between seasons. What was that plot thread even for.

Maybe they realised the issues with a mortal-immortal romance, but this does not solve them. And I bet Arondir will mention her at most once or twice more and everyone will forget about her.

Beleriand was a continent, not a realm 🤦‍♀️

Why is Theo so vehement towards Arondir all of a sudden. I mean, I guess it's not unrealistic for a teenager who just suffered great loss, but it comes from nowhere thematically.

Huh. Estrid's mark is a new development, but I still think they'll end up together. (No, I don't ship them. I have my own OC for Isildur's wife. But I know enough about tropes to suspect things.)

✨Pretty dress✨ Almost Byzantine-inspired, I think.

Miriel's speech might feel more moving if the whole battle it's about wasn't so dumb. Although I kind of doubt it.

✨Eärien's dress✨

What is it with the Palantir business🤦‍♀️

Númenoreans are hardly less "magical" than elves for that matter. They wouldn't be afraid of palantri!

Eagles aren't dumb beasts of omen you can co-opt to your purposes.

Lil Bro: And the people who chose Pharazon did not care for symbols of the Valar. Preach.

Tl;dr: A MESS

[the-dovecote]

I'm not sure if this is addressed somewhere in the wider lore and I just haven't encountered it yet or if it is actually a mystery, please feel free to chime in with either genuine or completely speculative answers. In the chapter "The Shadow of the Past" in FOTR (and maybe other places not sure) Sam says some version of "lord bless you," several times. What lord does he mean? Are hobbits aware of the existence of Eru Iluvatar? Do they worship him? Do they worship some other valar more in tune w their funky way of life? Do hobbits have religion at all? Does he mean lord in some weird quasi feudal context, like he's referring to the king the Shire hasn't had for a thousand years? Or do we think this is one of those things like pop guns and express trains, where bc the entire LOTR is supposed to be a translation of the Red Book of Westmarch, characters say things which express the sense of what they mean rather than speaking in literal translation so that we'll catch the vibe?

[marietheran-archived]

LotR reread - book 2, chapter 2 - The Council of Elrond

Tolkien once envisaged Galdor of the Havens as the same person as Galdor, Lord of Gondolin. He seems to have gone back on it, but I like that version a bit.

Mysterious Allusions Counter at 4.5

"And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken, and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever, and it was not so."

"The Spear of Gil-galad and the Sword of Elendil, Aeglos and Narsil, none could withstand" -- proof that what's important is a really really good sword, able to survive contact with evil beings?

"The blood of the Númenóreans became mingled with that of lesser men. Then the watch upon the walls of Mordor slept..." - hmmm... otoh, weird with the "lesser men", otoh, given the next sentence, it might mean less a racial change and more the Gondorians forgetting their heritage.

Boromir's (Faramir's really) dream: voice speaks out of the West. This seems important.

Another poem I learned by heart completely accidentally at 13.

Bilbo telling his story - "He did not ommit a single riddle" xdd

Mysterious Allusions Counter at 5.5

"In all the long wars with the Dark Tower treason has ever been our greatest foe"??? In the wars of the First Age, yes, but I can't really find any instances of treason later on, unless it's the Númenóreans' collective descent into evil idiocy. But the "Dark Tower" means Sauron. A slip? Or were there betrayals we haven't been told of?

"It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy, for good or for ill"

Whatever one thinks the Valar would say about someone bringing the Ring into Valinor (LotR declines to elaborate on "they would not receive it"), the explanation that the road to the sea will be guarded against them seems very reasonable anyhow. "Too often the Elves have fled that way" and Sauron would not have forgotten how his predecessor ended.

"But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right: and though all the mighty Elf-friends of old, Hador, and Húrin, and Túrin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them" (!!!)

I used to not understand why Túrin and Húrin are held in honour so high. Now I get Húrin, because the Silm seriously undersells his bravery (he was long, umm, persuaded to give up the location of Gondolin, and you can guess what kind of methods of persuasion were used - and said nothing), but despite Túrin being a problematic fave of mine, I still feel like remembering the killing of Glaurung and forgetting everything else, which everyone in ME seems to do, is a bit weird. I have seen the interpretation that it is done specifically to spite Morgoth, and I guess it makes as much sense as anything.

But anyway, rest in peace, Túrin, and that praise Frodo was given was something.

[thescrapwitch]

For the wip game, can you tell me about either of these three please? 💜🦦

• Two Bards and a Baby (longfic)

• Psalms for the Strange (bonus eldritch fic!)

• Midnight Society (bonus eldritch fic!)

Thank you!

Psalms for the Strange: Lindir POV returns! How to deal with the overwhelming (and very weird) perfection of Valinor and look after your eldritch bff via a musical competition and new friends! (very fluffy fic, a sort of epilogue for our favourite dandelion-fluff bard)

Midnight Society: Elladan and Elrohir start a ghost hunting club in Fourth Age Valinor and - to no one’s surprise - it turns out that the Valar are hiding a few spooky secrets. It's up to the twins and their new friends to solve the mystery!

Two Bards and a Baby: Sometime in the late Fourth Age, Maglor and Daeron hook up. They planned to sail over, go their separate ways to reunite with their lost families, and never speak to the other ever again.

This plan would have been a lot more successful if Maglor had not discovered that he was pregnant.

Starring two star crossed lovers who don’t believe they deserve a second chance at anything and their long suffering, potentially over protective family members who might have some unaddressed trauma still lingering from the First Age.

[tanoraqui]

Oooh that is so beautifully put yes yes I love it.

To be honest I think Valar should be pretty happy that Feanor is not devout; imagine his intensity channeled in honest and burning religious fundamentalism. It'd take him a week to start heretical mystery religion and Aule and Nienna would be informed there are whispers they are trying to usurp throne of Arda.

But also, one thing I have been fiddling with wip fics for while is, idea that Feanor is metaphysically, a divorce child of Melkor and Nienna. His fate is place where Melkor's shouts and her keening meet, the melding spot of his cacophony and her elegy, violence and grief within and upon and outside and enacted by. He is vessel through which their influence is unleashed upon Aman, his very birth proof that nowhere can be safe from Marring and grief.

(Within context of Ea-s-Most-Disastrous-And-Covered-Up-Divorce, this means both of them identify with Nerdanel. Nienna is obvious but really, Melkor gets it, when your partner is a stubborn psychological mess swallowed up by their own grief and so obsessed with their ideals and past that can't be fixed that they refuse to be happy and hear you out and just complicates your own and theirs life, poor woman you are so put upon, I have been there with two of them now!)

Ooh, whereas the idea I've been toying with is that Fëanor is solidly a natural...maybe not follower per se but student, agent in the world, of Melkor. He’s TRYING to be an agent not of Melkor-as-we-know-him but rather Melkor-as-he-could-have-been, but…

That Melkor's divine domain is change in a way that cuts through, recombines and builds on all the other Valar's spheres of power; that only because he is, personally, an asshole that this is become discord instead. That it is because Melkor is an asshole bent on evil that change is, in basic human psychology, scary; that difference is intimidating and easily hated; that the grief of what is lost so often supersedes the joy of what is gained, and we are forever looking back and bemoaning that we cannot make this country great again... That the end of Lord of the Rings, in which the Time of Elves is over and this is sad, a grave loss, but never a source of despair because it feels right in a way, as right as the stars fading as the sun rises, and now it is the Time of Men and this too is a good and natural thing, such that overall we feel joy...that this is a total triumph over Melkor-who-is, because it is how every now-terrible change should have been if only he hadn't been a total asshole.

And where does Fëanor fit into this? Fëanor inventor of alphabets, shaper of Light into stone in a way even the Valar didn't imagine, instigator by Oath and allegiance of the Flight of the Noldor and the Three Kinslayings and so many of the great deeds and tales of the First Age and beyond...who didn't live to see most of them? Fëanor is a catalyst in this ongoing tale, in this Great Music. He is flame himself, but mostly in that he is the spark that lights conflagrations.

That's notable not just because it's pivotal to the story of Arda, but because that's weird for an elf. Elves are constantly shown to value stability and timelessness. They wrap their lands in girdles of timeless peace. They pick a good king and keep him for millennia. They never start battles, only react when attacked - except the House of Fëanor and those closest to them.

...mostly in Kinslayings. Because this is Melkor's domain, and he is determined to make change a thing of discord, domination and destruction. But oh, how magnificently the Music might have gone if Fëanor's every word and deed, every moment of being, invited good rather than evil!

As it is, Nienna is always here ease the hurt as best she can. If only proud Fëanor would let her help...

[thranduil-ypfanfics]

Ishtar - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

When the Elvenking Thranduil was called to the infirmary due to an elleth being pulled from the Enchanted River. He was not confident in the mess he was going to find; every young elleth and ellon born to the Mirkwood Realm is taught not to venture near the river.

If you ever fall into the river, the symptoms they showed were insanity issues and memory loss. Most pulled from the river have to start a new life, because they don’t even remember their name. Most elves are registered to their realms so that if someone is missing, they can be easily identifiable. However, if man is found, the elves deliver them to Lake Town to be amongst their race.

Thranduil had heard that this ellon had been Blessed by the Valar himself. Lady Galadriel had mentioned her adopted daughter was to appear soon. His son was no longer amongst these walls, so he might as well personally check on this elleth. There was just something pulling him in your direction.

“My lord, the horse has been placed in his pen with food and water.” The front gate guard reported to his king as they neared the medical ward. “He is not behaving well.”

“Keep an eye on him for now.” With a nod, the guard was dismissed.

Upon reaching the infirmary, he wasn’t at all surprised to be told that you were feverish and floating in and out of consciousness. The medical team frantically worked on cooling the mysterious elleths fever. Cold clothes wiping the damn forehead and healing spells were whispered through the night.

One time you awoke in the middle of the night to a figure above you. You were so hot and feverish you couldn’t quite make out who they were. “My h-horse, p-please help h-him.”

You were quite delirious but hoped someone could get your horse some food and water.

The next time you awoke someone was humming a musical tune and brushing your forehead with a damp cloth. “T-That’s beautiful.” You forced your eyes to open and focused on the figure above you. It was an elleth. With a jolt you remembered you were probably in Middle Earth in the Mirkwood Realm. Not a dream.

“Oh, my lady!” The medical-elf pulled back from brushing your face with the cloth. With a relieved sigh that her charge wasn’t going to pass anytime soon. “I am called Glewil (Glaw-il: Sunshine/Radiance) ,my lady.”

Having a much clearer mind, made this a lot easier to absorb. Hobbit, or Middle Earth somewhere. Weird names so certainly Elf-folk. Now exactly where did Galadriel throw you, and what happened to your horse?

“Glewil, have you heard what happened to my horse.” Wait, how come I can understand this.

“I believe I can answer that '' A figure appeared in the doorway, and you frantically pulled the covers over your form. You weren’t known for showing skin like some girls, but you weren’t going to start now. No way.

“I am King of these halls, Thranduil Oropherion” The elf to walk into the room, was someone you could never mistake for someone else. Thick brows, finely sculpted nose and purse lips. The actor of the movies certainly did him justice. “Now what are you doing in my realm?”

______

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[lizziestudieshistory]

I've been meaning to ask you have you seen that Silmarillion daily thing? What do you think about it?

So, I had to look this up because I vaguely remember seeing something about a daily Silmarillion but I had no plans in participating in it - only because I've learnt from Dracula Daily that I am horrible with serialised media. I'm impatient and I tend to read things in huge chunks so having things in small sections doesn't really work for me.

So, it's hard to comment because I don't fully know what this will look like. In principle, I think it's a great idea! The Silmarillion is a difficult book for new readers and I know so many people who have picked it up and dropped out because Tolkien inundates the reader with so many names and weird concepts. So, having it serialised to slow your reading AND grtting together a community to read it at the same time will work wonderfully for some people.

However, I'm interested to see how it's delivered. In theory, the Silmarillion sounds like a great text to do this with because it's so episodic. Once the Noldor arrive in Beleriand it jumps around a lot and each chapter forms a contained story in the broader narrative around the Silmarils. But this sounds like they're only covering the Quenta Silmarillion (QS) - which is great I ADORE the QS, and I think it's the bit that grips readers to most. Let's face it the Ainulindalë and Valaquenta are painful at times, even for Tolkien fanatics like me. But as much as I dislike the Ainulindalë and Valaquenta you do need them to understand the QS. Where else are you going to learn about who the Valar and Maiar are, or why song is a legitimate weapon in Arda? You aren't going to truly appreciate the insanity that is Finrod taking on Sauron without the Ainulindalë... I also think it's a massive shame to miss out the Akallabêth, but maybe that's just me 🤷‍♀️

I also don't truly know how they're splitting the book up. I know it's presenting summaries, similar to the YouTube series doing a similar concept from people like Tolkien Untangled and Voice of Geekdom (I would recommend both!) but how is it going to split the story? How is it going to help new keep track of family trees, kingdoms, and non-elven races when sometimes they disappear from the story for chapters? Some of this is difficult enough when you're reading through the book in a week or so, reading through it over a year could be very difficult!

I'm also slightly confused on how they're only presenting the parts with "concrete" dates. A LOT of the First Age is a mess chronologically. Oh, we have some births, deaths, and battles - but a lot of the details are a complete mystery when trying to create a timeline. We don't even know when Maedhros was born, or who fathered Gil-Galad (sorry had to bring this one up, he's my favourite 😅) - so how can we adequately cover a timeline when we don't know what all of the timeline is? Tbh I'm very confused by the schedule and the "welcome" email left me more confused... However, I don't think chronological is the right approach to take for this particular book.

I have now subscribed so I can see what I think once we start getting content. I'm glad they're encouraging readers so follow along in the book because so much is lost when you get summaries, even really good summaries. Personally, I doubt the daily newsletter format will work in reality for this one, the story is just too big and messy... But I'm intrigued, and I think it could be done well if it was run differently. I'd explain how I'd run it but this is getting very long, but I am happy to run through how I'd run a Silmarillion readalong elsewhere if you're interested in my ramblings on that 😂

Thanks for asking though! This has been an interesting one to think about! At the end of the day, I might have questions on the format but if it'll get people to read Tolkien's work outside The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings then I am a VERY happy bunny.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

fun thing to do: pretend the silm (and lotr and the hobbit, if you like) is an american-gods-esque retelling of some existing mythological tradition, and make judgmental comments about the old man’s adaptive choices. for example:

like most other mysterious folkloric supernatural beings, the eldar were absolutely a pantheon of deities before the monotheists ruined everything. making them into an ordinary fantasy race and making them worship gods from a completely different mythos is an interesting choice

likewise trying to wedge the way more morally ambiguous calaquendi/moriquendi rivalry into the good/evil valar/morgoth split doesn’t 100% work but i appreciate the effort

most of the important humans, from haleth to eärendil, are full-on culture heroes whose individual stories have been worked into an overarching narrative of an age of myth. jrrt is far from the first to do this, which is why túrin and tuor are commonly considered to be related

his retelling is significantly edgier than average, though. the children of húrin is way, way, way less grimdark and a fair bit sillier in the original stories - it’s like modern arthurian adaptations, all the magic and fun sucked out and replaced with misery and incest

beren and maedhros are based on two extremely divergent forks of the same mythological figure. most people pick one or the other take, it’s a little strange to see them both in the same story

galadriel and melian are two near-identical versions of the same goddess. it’s extremely weird to have two of her running around, especially with them interacting so much

current scholarship consensus is that ‘child of finwë’ is some sort of honorific divine epithet whose precise meaning is lost to us, not a sign that everyone ever given that title is literally related

on that note, i get that descriptions of eldar can be a little vague on gender, but did you have to make it so that every elf the sources don’t overwhelmingly describe as female is a guy?

take a drink every time a new variation on the god-gifted smith archetype shows up. down the whole glass if he’s a bad guy

i get that you like ‘the fall of the city of caves,’ it’s a good legend, but did you have to do it twice? there’s all sorts of dwarf stories you could have fit in the space, smh

just. in general. what did the lost continent of beleriand do to you, man?

[ladyespera]

First Lines

Request: List the first ten lines of the last ten stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

Nobody tagged me in this but I saw @sakasakiii doing it and wanted to pass it on to my frens. and well uhhhhh after looking at this i can certainly say that boy i just love dropping people right into present action with ZERO context and also i love to be general and abstract!!!!!! who needs concrete background 😌😌😌 weird mix of generic essay openings vibes and surrealism my beloved?????? also I've just realized that people just stand and stare and overthink and PanicTM a lot in my fics ehehe I wonder where they get thAT-

perchance

Commodore Karyn Faro stands on the bridge of the Chimaera, hands neatly cinched behind her back, her eyes looking out past the viewport at the swirling vortex of hyperspace. The atmosphere is silent, almost calm; despite the urgency of their dispatch back to Lothal and the fiasco of the gralloc mission, for now, nothing can be done to either speed or slow their journey. Her eyes focus back on her faint, pale reflection in the viewport. “This is a dream,” she whispers to her other self.

bright star (cheated on this one by 1 line 🤫)

There is a moment, in the middle of the chaos, when Maedhros suddenly senses the faint scream of danger. He cannot place it, cannot discern why, and yet... He dodges a shower of stones as the entire mountain trembles, the roar of the sack of Angband nearly too great for mortal ears. The Silmarils. If the Valar are too occupied with Morgoth, he must get to them first—he must be getting close to the entrance. A cry close by, past a pile of bodies, and in amongst the shadow of the mountain, he glimpses a flash of white hair emerging, wavering—and then a familiar dark-headed figure, running to help, extending a hand—

than never to have loved

So many say he has the gift of foresight. But it is not always a gift. Some days, it is a curse, a smog of uncertainty that clouds his thoughts and shadows his soul with horrible possibility. When Elrond throws everything he has into working towards good, into protecting the best in people, into saving what he can of Middle-Earth, it is also because he has seen the worst. So when he dedicates his heart and soul to this one cause, this one Hope, he also knows what his payment might be.

to have loved and lost

“Do you have a father?” Elrond looks up from his parchment stiffly, startled. The child is fixing him with a piercing gaze of curiosity that reminds him briefly of a younger self; stamping down the brief spark of pain at the thought, he smiles graciously instead. Today is the anniversary of their coming to Rivendell, of what Aragorn probably associates with Arathorn’s death; of course he might have thoughts. “Yes, Estel, I have a father.” “But is he still in Middle Earth?”

the tides of the heart

“Sometimes people don’t want to be saved. Sometimes it’s time to die. ” . The summer air is warm when Grace Holloway steps out the door on her way to work, but humid too, with a hint of fog, like the grey sea air is already planning to roll in before the day is out. Grace doesn’t mind the fog—she likes it, even, the mystery of it—but she hates the humidity. It makes her hair frizzy.

greatest privilege

Commodore Karyn Faro had just had the longest 96 hours of her entire life, and she hadn’t slept for any of them. From escape pod to emergency evacuation craft to med bay to debriefings to more debriefings to waiting in hallways to finally being released into this bland Navy office. On Coruscant. Where she’d intended to be anyway - just not quite this hectically. Now she was sitting, her eyes fixed on the empty space in front of her as her mind buzzed lazily. Not even recollecting anymore. Or regretting. Just...empty. “Commodore Faro?” a voice called from behind the desk.

just a phone call away

The Doctor stands in the train station and stares at the ringing phone. He isn’t going to answer it. Of course he isn’t. His mind has already done the mental calculations a thousand times this day, the hypotheticals, the guesswork, comparing his lists of goodbyes to his lists of losses, finding that section of the Venn diagram within which fall the people who have left him and whom he never said goodbye to and-- He can’t not. His fingers tremble slightly as he pushes the little accept call button.

forget me not

Every morning, he wakes up and wonders whether it’s going to be a good day. Of course, that all depends on a few key metrics. First things first. He opens his eyes. Does he ache? Sometimes there is nothing at all. Sometimes sitting up immediately reminds him that ouch, he had better be careful today. Sometimes it’s just something odd, like the aftertaste of bile on his tongue or a weird lingering sensation in his blood, as if his antibodies are trying to yell at his brain like “ Hey! Red flag, idiot! Stop doing what you’re doing !”

breathing space

Liv had said that all the emotion before must have drained him dry now, left him with only a hopeful energy. After all, there’s not much lower to go emotionally than weeping on a street, too pained to even crawl. Here, there’s no ravenous monsters or maniac Timelords. No end of the world to worry about. It’s only up from here. Only up. The rain flecks his face. Only up…

uhhhhh tagging @fortes-fortuna-iogurtum @as-dreamers-do @swinging-stars-from-satellites @lilac-vode but really anyone plz feel free to have at it! :)

[jengajives]

Part two of my modern au. will Daeron ever actually meet the family? I don’t know

The Fëanorian house was big. Daeron probably should have expected it, just given the rumors he had heard before he even met Maglor, but it still surprised him with its immensity. It seemed a vast and artificial thing to him- somewhat unsettling if he was being honest- but the Noldorin leaning had always been toward excess and showmanship rather than the subtle, natural beauty his people preferred, so it was easy to calmly set his nervousness aside as simple culture shock. The lack of green anywhere beyond the perfectly manicured garden out front did make him feel somewhat squirmy inside, though; entering that glass and concrete beast was a daunting thought, even when he tried to explain it away. “We’re here!” Maglor said with a sort of nauseous cheeriness that conveyed no particular optimism. “Last chance to turn back.” Daeron craned his neck to get a look at the upper floors, currently glaring with an echo of the sunset behind them. “Wow.” “Dad designed it. It’s pretty, right?” Maglor actually looked over, read Daeron’s expression, and hastily went on. “Pretty horrible. Yeah. Really bad. Let’s go in.” As Daeron stepped onto the ceramic driveway, he was floored by another revelation: he had always thought Maglor’s car to be quite showy, maybe even to the point of tackiness, but seeing the other eight cars lined up nicely on the drive made him quickly change his mind about the rather conservative little blue Porsche. The first one he noticed was the cherry red supercar- it was hard not to look at it, to be honest, because it resembled a spaceship more than any other vehicle Daeron had ever seen. If he was ever unlucky enough to be standing behind it when someone turned the engine on, he’d pretty sure he’d get his eyebrows burned off or something. There was a Rolls-Royce parked next to it, painted a more subtle shade of midnight purple. Behind the two, a restored muscle car sat alongside an old hot rod, both opposite shades of green that made Daeron feel itchy to look at for some reason, and then came the pickup truck. It was the tallest car he had ever seen, iridescent black-to-green, and fitted with a downright obscene array of racks, lights, and speciality equipment, and with a deer skull mounted to the hood. One yellow Jeep and a small grey SUV looked very out of place at the front of the driveway even though they absolutely should not. Maglor had noticed him looking, so he pointed out who each car belonged to, but Daeron was so overwhelmed that everything went completely over his head. He did manage to pick out that the normal-looking ones belonged to Maedhros and to Maglor’s mother, though, and that was the only thing his overwhelmed brain could think of clinging onto. At least two of these people were a little bit normal-ish, at least. He could do this. While he stood staring at the cars, Maglor went on ahead, and he had to scurry to catch up. “Aren’t your parents divorced?” “Yeah.” Maglor gave him a look like that was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. For just a brief moment, Daeron worried it was, until he remembered which of them had a better handle on average family dynamics (ironically, it was the one without a family). “Then why is your mom coming to dinner?” “Why wouldn’t she?” They stopped in front of a big metal door, on what was the most intimidating porch he had ever seen. “She comes every month.” Daeron started to tell him that was weird, but Maglor was already reaching out to open the door, and he didn’t want to be overheard, so he just canned it and tried to look polite. As soon as the knob turned, Daeron was attacked by what appeared to be a red-brown blur. It burst from the cracked door and rammed into his chest with enough force to easily through him to the concrete, and Daeron couldn’t muffle a cry when he saw the glint of cruel yellow teeth and eyes belonging to a creature that knew exactly where it had to bite to end his life. Hot breath panted across his face, and a single line of drool drizzled nicely across the bridge of his nose. He was about to actually scream when he heard a sharp whistle and an even sharper voice. “Huan!” Immediately the creature bounded off Daeron’s chest and pranced out of sight. He only realized it was a dog when he saw the bristle tail swishing happily behind it. Maglor appeared above him instead, face swimming with concern. “Oh Valar. Are you okay?” “Sorry, chief!” Someone shouldered Maglor out of the way to fill Daeron’s view himself. One of the brothers already. Wonderful. “He’s still a puppy. Thinks everyone wants to play. I’m sure you know how that is!” The newcomer had the same basic facial features as Maglor, but he looked sharper all over, from the jaw to the cheekbones, even the teeth. When he grinned, Daeron got the impression he was a rabbit being played with before the meal. His hair was an unusual shade of pale blond, not quite Sindar silver, which Daeron had never seen on a Noldo before. It was almost white and caught the red of the sunset like melted wax. When Daeron realized he was being offered a hand, he took it and let Mystery Fëanorian Number One lift him to his feet. “You must be Mags’s new guy, huh?” The predatory grin flashed again. It was probably supposed to be disarming, but it put Daeron so on edge he jumped when the man clapped him on the shoulder. “Sindar, huh? Excellent. Amrod is going to owe me thirty bucks. Hey, Caranthir really isn’t going to like this, Mags.” He glanced around Daeron to where Maglor was standing stiff and awkward, face a mask of horrified embarrassment. “Dad probably won’t either.” “Celegorm...” Maglor finally groaned. His brother didn’t let him finish. “Hey, either of you want a smoke?” He tugged a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his worn-down jeans and held it towards the two of them. Because he was wearing just a white t-shirt that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a couple weeks, Daeron could see plenty of exposed skin, and the tattoos that covered Celegorm head to toe. Lots of deers, trees, wolves, and the like, though he did spot a rifle or two and a couple naked ladies as well. He had the words “WOLF PACK” printed across his knuckles. “No, thank you,” Maglor said flatly as he reached over to rest his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Daeron relaxed just a little bit at the touch. “Suit yourself.” Celegorm shrugged. He patted his thigh and the massive red dog came trotting over again; Daeron swore it gave him a dirty look as it followed its master by. “Have fun in there,” called Celegorm over his shoulder. “It’s just starting to kick off.” Daeron waited until he and his dog had wandered out of earshot before he managed a few strangled words. “Is he the one who... fucked Oromë?” “Yep, that’s him.” Daeron stared, dumbfounded, and slowly shook his head. “Charming.” “Do you still want to go inside?” Maglor asked weakly, and Daeron just nodded. He had come this far. Time to dive in.

[ospreyeamon]

This analogy feels like a fair comparison. I get the impression that the root of the problems with the way the Valar deal with the Children is their inability or unwillingness to set aside their assumptions of what the Children should be like when they come into conflict with the reality of how the Children actually are (and one of their assumptions is that the Children will defer to them).

In the Statue of Finwë and Míriel, the Valar keep talking about how the elves’ behaviour is unnatural and a result of Melkor’s Marring; Míriel shouldn’t be experiencing what sounds a lot like post-natal depression, Finwë shouldn’t want to re-marry after the death of his spouse, Finwë shouldn’t be in love with both Miriel and Indis. Míriel and Finwë shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t want these things, and the fact that they are behaving in ways the Valar don’t agree with and struggle to understand is a sign that there is something wrong with them.

It was reasonable to ask Finwë and Indis if they had thought through the consequences of their marriage. It was reasonable to insist that Míriel be consulted first. But Míriel, Finwë and Indis all agreed that the second marriage could go ahead, being aware that things would inevitably get a bit weird once Míriel recovered sufficiently to desire to return to her body. The Valar could have left it at that. The Valar should have left it at that.

Creating the judgment just made a bad situation worse. Still having the possibility of Miriel returning to her body open wouldn’t have assuaged Fëanor’s grief (because it didn’t before) and I’m sure he would still have been unhappy about his father’s second marriage, but making Míriel’s life the price for the birth of his half-siblings poisoned those relationships from the start.

It also didn’t actually alter the situation the Valar are unhappy about. Míriel is still dead. Finwë is still bound to two wives. All the Statute of Finwë and Míriel accomplishes is punishing the entire family.

There’s also how the Valar’s idea of rewarding the edain for their assistance in the War of Wrath involved making them more like the elves. (Why??? do they keep stretching people???). Like, you say Eru Ilúvatar is the ultimate authority over the world and everyone in it, and that these are his Children he personally created – and you muck around to make what you clearly believe are improvements on the divine design?

The Valar say that the nature of the Children of Ilúvatar is mysterious to them – that they caught very little knowledge of them in the Music – but they don’t begin to act as if they really believe that until the Third Age.

(Some of the Valar are better about this than others, but they do hold to group decisions they personally disagree with like Ulmo with the Fencing of Valinor, so it doesn’t feel unfair to talk about them as a collective.)

I feel like the way the Valar treat the Children (the Eldar especially) is kind of like... late adolescents. Yes, you're technically an adult and we'll give you some independence, but we're also absolutely going to make your decisions for you if we think it's best for you. Besides, you're living in our house, that means you obey our rules.

Oh, you think exile for 120 years being grounded for a year is an unjust punishment for drawing a sword on Fingolfin punching your half-brother? Well what are you gonna do, uh? Leave this house?

Oh, you want to got to war against Morgoth go to art school when I, who pays for your studies, decided you should study law? Well go on then, but you better hope to be successful, because I'm not going to provide aid and weapons give you a single cent. And don't come back crying if you predictably fail to make a living. And don't expect us to take pity when you're in Mandos keep your room for you while you're gone.

You got caught kinslaying doing drugs? Well I won't have any of that in my house. You can go get burned by a Silmaril spend a few months in jail, it will teach you. And you failed to kill the evil overlord sue your terrible landlord? Maybe you should have gone to law school after all, uh? How about I deal with the landlord for you, destroy Beleriand in the process take the damage and interest money for myself (I advocated for you, after all) and leave you homeless unless you crawl back home on your knees?

(I'm writing some War of Wrath pieces and trying to restrain myself from being too mean to Eönwë, this is a good release. I don't think the Valar actually mean to be quite that bad, they're just... making some decisions.)