#the more time he spent with the house of Fingolfin...

[stitcherofchaos]

Devastating headcanon alert!

Maglor looks more like a son of Fingolfin than a son of Feanor.

When Feanor starts to become paranoid of Fingolfin, imagine that he doubts Maglor's loyalty, since the banishment to Tuna- despite Maglor being loyal then- until they reach Middle Earth and he challenges his second son's loyalty.

"Burn the ships!"

And ever-loyal Maglor obeys.

[fingolfinwiththesteelchair]

Mightiest Elf Fight Club Side B

Vote on side A HERE

These elves are competing in a tournament! I don't like brackets, so below, select the elf in this group that you think would come in LAST, I repeat, vote for the elf in LAST PLACE. The elf you vote for will be ELIMINATED from fight club

The sister poll with more options is located HERE

Find PROPAGANDA and MIGHTY DEEDS below the cut

Maglor: Maglor was one of the best bards in Middle Earth - which is very important in a world where Songs of Power exist. Maglor held a breech against Morgoth, known as Maglor's Gap, for four and a half centuries, and fought in countless battles against Morgoth. Weaknesses: Silmarils, oaths. Glorfindel: One of the few beings to successfully slay a Balrog, Glorfindel died and came back to life (he did it before Gandalf made it cool). He spent his time in The Fellowship of the Ring gleefully chasing down the ringwraiths, who were so scared of him that between the choice of Glorfindel and a magically- pissed off river, they chose the river. Weaknesses: needs a haircut

Rog: One of Tolkien's earlier characters, Rog was the chief of the Hammer of Wrath, Rog led his people against the forces of the enemy during the Fall of Gondolin. He was said to the strongest of Noldoli. Weaknesses: getting cornered, but who isn't

Gil-Galad: The elf so cool no one knows who his parents are. The Last High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad held the ring Vilya. He fought against Sauron's armies in the second age, and then again during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, where he engaged Sauron in single combat and won, driving him back. Weakness: fiery hands

Maedhros: Maedhros has fought in countless battles against Morgoth, including orchestrating the Union of Maedhros. He's known for his ferocity with the sword. He held the fort of Himring against the tides of Morgoth's forces for nearly all of the First Age. Weaknesses: Silmarils, oaths.

Galadriel: A Noldor straight from Aman, Galadriel is said to be the greatest of elven-women. The bearer of the ring Nenya and a member of the White Council, Galadriel aided in the Battle of the Field of Celebrant and helped drive the shadows of Sauron from Dol Guldur. Weaknesses: temptation

Finrod: Finrod has fought in the Dagor Bragollach, and later joined Beren in his quest against Morgoth and Sauron. Finrod got into an epic rap battle with Sauron, and then, completely naked, Finrod killed a werewolf with his bare hands and his teeth. Weaknesses: Beren

Fingolfin: A High King of the Noldor, Fingolfin braved the Helcaraxe, fought in the Battle of Sudden Flame, and then rode out alone to Actually demigod-Satan's house, knocked on his door, and told him to come out and fight him one on one. And then he almost killed Actually demigod-Satan, dealing seven devastating blows that would never heal. Weaknesses: Hammers

Beleg: A great captain of the Sindar, and considered to be the best archer. He was one of the few Sindar to join in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and took part in the hunting of the werewolf Carcharoth. He managed to withstand Turin's terrible fucking luck for several adventures before succumbing. Weaknesses: Friendship

[anittmyer]

Glorfidnel vs. Religious Trauma

(This does contain some Valar bashing)

This was a headcanon I wanted to explore with my Golden boy! It's well known knowledge that Glorfindel is half Noldor and half Vanya, and the Vanya tend to be close to the valar and the most as you say "religious" and strict with the rules of the valar.

I personally headcanon Glorifndel as gay and he realized this at a young age while he still lived in Valinor. His mother was Noldor, but his father was a very loyal Vanya, making him quite religious and strict with his children and household. Same sex relationships were viewed as an abomination by the valar and so most Vanya thought so as well. Glorfindel hated himself for liking other Nèrs', he knew he should get over it so he can marry and nìs one day and make his father proud.

Glorindel spent a lot of his time trying to be a devoted follower of the valar and to follow their rules, but one day he kissed another male elf in secret and he was so scared he ran away home and cried. He was found by his mother and he knew his mother wasn't as tied to the Valar as his father was. He told her what had happened and how he felt, he feared she'd be angry and disgusted, like how many Vanya spoke about Prince Nelyofinwè (another character i headcanon as gay).

He truly felt lost and in a dark place once the flight of the Noldo occurred and he decided to cross the Helcaraxè with Fingolfin's host. He felt abandoned by the Valar even though he was devoted and faithful. He feeling lost had found happy company in a Noldor elf named Ecthelion.

In Gondolin, Glorfindel was still tense and no one knew his true nature besides Ecthelion. He had garnered the title of himself as Gondolin's most eligible bachelor in the secret city. Many elleths fawned over the Lord of the Golden Flower, but all Glorfindel could feel was shame once more for not being able to reciprocate and do his duty. Ecthelion was good at comforting him and telling him that how he was isn't shameful or a disgrace, but Glorfidnel couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut and the nervous sweat on his brow.

It wasn't until he was brought back from the Halls of Mandos and was given a second chance at life, that he wanted to let go of his shame. Lord Elrond was the most kind and most understanding being to have existed since his friend Ecthelion. While living in Imladris, Glorfindel met his forever love in Erestor, a beautiful peredhel elf with dark hair, striking green eyes, and olive skin. He was studious and a bit cold, but Glorfindel had broken down those walls and the two were almost always plagued by a scarlet blush. Glorfindel knew he found his forever love, he didn't care what the Valar thought or what his father thought of him being in love with an ellon, of Fenaorion stock no less!

Glorfindel always dreamed of his wedding, he once thought it was never to be, his love would never be allowed by the Valar or even his father. He married Erestor in Imladris, surrounded by those who loved and accepted him. And once he sailed with Erestor, Elladan, and Elrohir, he reunited with Ecthelion who was furious he wasn't able to attend his best friends wedding. However, Glorfindel was most worried about his father... the faithful Nèr who spat hideous words about those loving the same gender as their own. Glorfindel had finally worked up courage to travel to his family home, with Erestor in hand, he wouldn't be hidden like some shameful thing.

They had arrived to his family house, before knocking, the door was swung open, the beautiful visage of his mother stared back at him, tears instantly in her eyes. Glorfindel introduced Erestor as his husband and his mother only smiled and gave Erestor a chaste kiss on his cheek. Her acceptance of his husband gave him confidence. It was finally time to face his father... after so many years...

He met his father in the garden behind his family home, age had found its way to his father's, gray hairs lined his temples and his golden hair line. His father's tired eyes had no judgement in them, only sorrow and longing... Longing for his only son. He embraced his son tightly and then he looked to Erestor who appeared slightly apprehensive. Once more, Erestor was introduced as his beloved spouse, speaking calmly and slowly as to avoid his father blowing up on him. Glorfindel's father did no show thing. He in fact also gave Erestor a hug and thanked him for loving his son.

. . . .

In my head, Glorfindel's father lost his faith in the Valar when they decided to send his son back to Middle-Earth instead of letting him come home to his family.

I also swapped out Nèr/Nìs and Ellon/Elleth depending on if we were in Valinor or Middle-Earth!

I'm a Glorestor truther till my DYING DAYS!

Let me know what you think!!☺️☺️

[doodle-pops]

Feanor Dating A Scientist Reader

Request: Ok since the request are open can you please make up some headcanons for feanor and his s/o being a scientist like the one you did with the house of fingolfin if that's to basic for you can you do it with a neurosdoctor please thank you - Anon

·⊰ When Fёanor decides to visit you one day during your courtship, he’s eager to spend the day chatting away about all his admiration and love he has for you, he was most surprised when he knocked on your door and found you in coveralls.

·⊰ Being the inquisitive person he was known as Fёanor would not hesitate to inquire about what was happening or what you were up to. He was much aware that you were a scholar after reading your numerous hypotheses on topics which blew his mind.

·⊰ When you allow him to enter your humble abode, he could see round-bottom flasks and test tubes on the countertops, a Bunsen burner, lighting away and boiling some liquids in flat-bottom flask and the scent of chemicals and earthy materials would hit his nose.

·⊰ It doesn’t take long before Fёanor put two and two together to become aware of your investigative experimental traits; you were a scholar after all, and it made sense how you were able to write phenomenal articles.

·⊰ You can forget about your outdoor dates because all your dates will now be held indoors with Fёanor as your assistant. You may want to keep him away from anything that is flammable because curiosity kills the cat, and satisfaction might not bring him back.

·⊰ You can count on Fёanor to be at your beck and call, ready with all the materials necessary for hosting your experiment. It’s the one time you would witness him quiet and patience, well not entirely quiet because he will always have tons of questions on the tip of his tongue.

·⊰ He’ll walk around with a mini notepad, making his scribbles as you enlighten him on basic factual information with more depth and new discoveries. You can also count on him to impart his knowledge to you when he sees you are making an error.

·⊰ In no way is he smug about his corrections, it’s all done out of care and excitement for the final product; he doesn’t want to see you unhappy, or all your materials go to waste. As an alchemist, he’s very much aware of the effort that goes into gathering precious materials to create.

·⊰ You can expect that when he embarks on trips to other cities or to Aüle, he’s returning with a basket or trunk filled with new or rare materials he’s heard you spoke about having trouble acquiring.

·⊰ It’s a beautiful sight to see the usually displayed or talked about hot head acting like an amazed child at the display of our laboratory equipment. The little head tilts and soft ‘aw’ when he figures out something, or the widening of his eyes when you perform a colour-changing experiment.

·⊰ He even requests that you impart your knowledge while teaching him your experimental methods. In turn, he’ll also teach you a trick or two about alchemy, since their differences aren’t huge.

·⊰ Days will be spent with the both of you wrapped up in your basement or private room in your house, testing hypotheses or creating them. When people are searching for either of you, it’s because you’ve been locked up in the house for over a week.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

[tanoraqui]

I was trying to rewrite this encounter from Fëanor’s pov for the longer fic I’m working on, and it’s not really working so I might give up, but please enjoy this bit of Fëanor going about his days blithely not realizing that Maedhros has usurped most of his kingship:

There wasn’t less work to do when Maedhros was away from the fort. Objectively there was more, for there was no one Fëanor trusted so much to review paperwork before passing it to him for signature, or to handle meetings on his behalf, or a hundred other duties which only a crown prince—only a crown prince as excellently competent as Fëanor’s firstborn son!—could be deputized to manage.

But there was undeniably an additional measure of flexibility when Maedhros was absent. A crown prince might badger his father out of the laboratory; petty courtiers either wouldn’t dare or didn’t have the strength of will to keep trying after the third time Fëanor told them to go away; couldn’t they see he was busy? A crown prince might screen would-be petitioners so that only the important or interesting ended up before Fëanor’s seat; with Maedhros away hunting with his youngest brothers, Fëanor took meetings on the military budget (important but dull), saw new proposals for banner designs (none superior to the current banner), and spent exactly one afternoon formally hearing convoluted arguments about a disputed piece of land in southern Ladros before ruling that the cows themselves would own the land for the next fifty years, throwing all parties out of his throne room, and declaring that no more judgements would be passed, unless they be matters of life or death, until the prince returned.

Not that he begrudged Maedhros his respite! Quite the opposite—his son worked tirelessly at his craft of state, which now included war as well. It seemed like every time Fëanor came into his office, there was more correspondence on the desk, whether Maedhros was there or not.

With Maedhros away, Fëanor looked through it himself, of course, save those few that seemed private. Many were from Indis’s… from Maedhros’s cousins, and Fingolfin and Lalwen, because one of the greatest favors Maedhros had done his father was to take point on managing them. Fëanor skimmed several letters to be sure none of them were taking advantage of the generous heart behind his son’s sharp judgement…

Turgon was complaining about ‘unjust’ taxes on pearls, an ongoing argument. Finrod offered thanks for a royal edict Maedhros had managed entirely on his own regarding new discoveries about optimal farming strategies. Fingon suggested another joint military exercise next year between Lothlann’s cavalry and soldiers of Dorthonion. Of course he did! But all were adequately deferential, if familiar—as was best, of course. Neither treason nor fear of treason had any place here! The House of Finwë was united in might and purpose!

Fëanor returned to his laboratory for a few hours, then sent a courier off with new formulae to the larger experimental compound in Tumladen, where the test explosions might go unnoticed by all but the Eagles. He would get through the enemy’s mountains one day.

[gozzer]

Caranthir truly is the Middle Child. It had always been Maedhros and Maglor, Celegorm and Curufin, Amrod and Amras. He was on his own. In a family of nine, Caranthir was alone.

It had been that way since Curufin reached of age and Celegorm found more interest in spending time with him. Neither Maedhros or Maglor had really spent any time with him after he was old enough to look after himself and after Ambarussa had been born, Mother didn't bother with him either; Father had always been more active with Maedhros and Curufin than the rest of them. After a certain point in time it didn't really bother him anymore.

At first, yeah, it hurt. To be shown over and over again that his family would pick someone else over him. That he was pretty much the forgotten fourth child. He was directly in the middle of his brothers and didn't really stick out; never had and never will. For even among his cousins, he was generally left out. His siblings were more interesting, plain and simple; always had been, always would be. So, if no one really needed or noticed him, he mostly stayed out of the way.

It was easy when people forgot you existed. Caranthir wasn't expected to do anything because no one acknowledged him. After Ambarussa became independent, he faded back into background. Kept to himself and didn't really talk unless spoken to first. He didn't really have a reason to say anything when there was no one to listen. Life was easy and boring and very lonely.

Nothing really changed. After they left Aman and his brothers had someone to find comfort in for the acts they had done, Caranthir was on his own. Not that he could find the words to say if he had someone to say them to. He was of no importance and while he wasn't surprised his Father and brothers left in the boats without him, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. To watch from Uncle Fingolfin's side as the boats burned. They had left him behind. Didn't even notice or care that he hadn't been among them. And he wasn't surprised.

Nor was there any surprise when his brothers overlooked him the moment the rest of the Noldor were before them. There was no decency to be had to pull him aside and tell him in private that Father was dead and Maedhros gone. He was left to find out with the rest. Like he wasn't part of the House of Feanor. And it stung, brought tears to his eyes and an ache in his chest but he didn't say anything. Simply rejoined the sides of his brothers even if they didn't notice.

Caranthir kept to himself even when he separated from his brothers. Very few elves followed him but those that did were surprisingly loyal despite the fact that he didn't really do anything to earn that loyalty. But he made a home for himself and his few people. Mostly though they lived among the dwarves. He wasn't a king or lord or leader of any kind but he must have made a good enough impression on those around him. Because he land of his own and people that listened to him and a good trade set up with the dwarves. He had no complaints and neither did anyone living there.

If the Oath hadn't gotten in the way, he was sure he could have lived the rest of forever like that. But it did, and he died. And was in the Halls of Mandos on his own. No one was there to greet him and for a good while he believed that even Namo forgot he existed. That was not the case, he soon learned, as the Vala came and talked to him.

It wasn't much and really Caranthir had done his best to stay out of trouble once in Middle-Earth. Namo was there to help him understand all that had happened in his life and explained that while he would most definitely be reborn before the rest of his immediate family, it would still be some time. It mattered little to him. He was fine wherever because he wasn't needed or wanted anywhere. It was simply a fact and it had long since stopped hurting. And, really, he was quite comfortable being dead. There was no one to look past him for someone else and while he had liked the life he had with his people and the dwarves, he didn't mind that it was over.

Caranthir had been pretty much forgotten by the rest of the world and even when given the chance to be reborn, he chose to stay in the Halls of Mandos. Where he spent his time with the first person to truly choose him instead of someone else. His grandmother, Miriel.

[fuckingfinwions]

This fulfills the aphrodisiacs/altered mental states square on my season of kink card

Maedhros knew that he had not always been so single-mindedly focused on sex. He wasn’t completely limited even now; he could discuss news and politics for most of an hour with only redirecting his attention from his neglected cock a half dozen times. He wasn’t completely vicious either, and would not use someone for his pleasure against their will.

But if there was someone willing present, Maedhros could not hold a single other thought in his head. He would not remember that any reason existed to delay, and would strip himself and his lover regardless of decorum or law. More than once Fingon had walked in on Maedhros entangled with the clerk who was teaching him to write with his left hand, or a member of the guard, or one of Fingolfin’s advisors. The political consequences of such people being sexually indiscreet, or of them knowing Maedhros was so lustful, never seemed as important as a warm willing body. And although Maedhros knew what it was like to feel pressured and unable to refuse, it was hard to comprehend others fearing him, and all his careful rules were forgotten the first time someone gave him an appreciative look. 

So Maedhros understood why he was locked in, and could not begrudge Fingon it. He knew that if he had his freedom he would open the door and seduce the nearest willing person he could find, and with his beauty most were willing. And then word might get out that the eldest of the house of Feanor was unfit. His brothers would not stand for the insult, and whether they blamed Maedhros, or whatever unlucky elf he seduced, or Fingon and Fingolfin for not controlling him, the consequences would be dire.

Maedhros’s role in the war against Morgoth was to not ruin alliances by thinking with his cock, as he was too sex-crazed to fight or handle diplomatic matters. Maedhros wanted Morgoth to lose, to pay for all the pain he had caused the Noldor. So he would did not try to pick the lock, or sneak out the window, or slip past the servants who brought in meals.

At least Maedhros had a number of toys, to pass the time until his lover returned. None of them were as satisfying as a person, warm and alive and desiring Maedhros as much as he desired them, but they slaked his lust somewhat.

There will dildos of course. Two of them were modeled after Fingon’s own cock, so that Maedhros could be filled from both ends and imagine his lover somehow impossibly doing so. The others ranged wildly in size, shape, and  material, from the mithril spiral no thicker than Maedhros’s ring finger, to a mahogany dildo the size of his own cock, to an enormous one nearly the size of his arm made from a walrus tusk. Maedhros liked to warm the dildos in front of the fire before fucking himself, to better approximate the real thing.

There was an array of beautiful jewelry, both intended or lascivious use and not. Fingon enjoyed seeing Maedhros draped in necklaces and bracelets and not a stitch of fabric, and Maedhros enjoyed Fingon’s desire. Maedhros had tried a cock cage once and found it frustrating, so he commissioned a belt to adorn his waist instead. He had clamps designed for his nipples and his ears and his cockhead, all simple enough to operate with one hand but strong enough to bite his flesh wonderfully.

Despite all this, Maedhros had been very uncomfortable the first few weeks confined to Fingon’s bedroom. Put simply, his body was not strong enough to keep up with his desire. His cock was not a problem, rising again and again however many times he reached his peak. (Fingon had once spent a day seeing how many times Maedhros could come in a row, and given up counting after twenty.) But his arm could only go so long before it cramped. So they built a stand, so Maedhros could go on all fours and run his ass backwards into a dildo. There was also a leather sleeve, that Maedhros could tie to where his right wrist ended, and then fuck with abandon.

[ceescedasticity]

(Look, confirmation that Dior did not get the Gift of Men!)

That's a pretty good reason to conclude a thousand years… it'd probably mean Finrod was a wreck, though.

My spin on the Galadriel-still-under-ban thing is that

At the end of the First Age, pardons were on offer, but Ëonwë required that leaders of rebellion formally admit wrongdoing and probably publicly beg forgiveness, and Galadriel certainly wasn't about to do that, especially since she wanted to stay in Middle-earth anyway.

In hindsight, Ëonwë probably shouldn't have demanded that, but Manwë doesn't want to undermine him. (Especially since Galadriel seems to want to stay in Middle-earth anyway.)

However given that, releasing any leaders of rebellion from Mandos without requiring them to publicly beg forgiveness is… politically awkward. And very few members of the House of Finwë are eager to humble themselves without the opportunity to add a bunch of caveats, so that's no help.

But what the Valar can do is rationalize that various people aren't really leaders of rebellion, or at least are less of a leader than Galadriel is.

Some of these rationalizations are more convincing than others. Some are kind of insulting by implication. Many of them are more looking at "less of a leader than Galadriel is now" rather than "less of a leader than Galadriel at the time". But the point is to save face while letting Námo release people who really shouldn't be there anymore.

(If they'd just been THINKING they could have used the changing of the world as an occasion for blanket pardons for everyone, but they were too distracted.)

The people they can't even pretend to think are less of a leader than Galadriel are Fingolfin, Finrod (but he got a special exception), Maedhros (who also has the Oath to think about), Fëanor (but he may be in time-out anyway), and maybe Turgon. (One might THINK Fingon should be on that list, but look, whatever the titles were he spent all his time following either Fingolfin's lead or Maedhros's, and he was climbing the walls.)

OH GOOD a reason to remove Galadriel's Ban.

But that whole scenario may be a little too involved to call a headcanon. Certainly too involved to call a theory.

DAMN it I should have put in a question about what people think average Mandos turnaround time is, because evidently some people think it's much longer than I do.

What I'm mainly going off of is Finrod, who died a fairly horrific death before which he'd been a prisoner for months — at the end he was messed-up enough to blow his own cover — and in the custody of Sauron the Necromancer (not to mention the disastrous magic duel attempt).

He was canonically released from Mandos after probably less than a century.

Yes, Lúthien arrived almost immediately after his death and that likely made a difference — I'd credit it at least with averting any postmortem damage. Yes, Finrod is a fairly resilient and impressive guy. But I don't think he's so very special that his healing is exponentially faster than most people's, and while I think it's possible he got let out a little earlier than he should have been I don't think it's that much premature.

So I think, for most elves who die violent deaths, a couple centuries is probably enough to heal. Some will take longer — a thousand years sounds reasonable to me for e.g. Celebrimbor, and longer than that for orc souls. And there's a lot of individual variation, and there are other reasons someone might be in Mandos longer.

But generally I feel like we should see a lot of returns from Mandos in the first half of the Second Age.

[imakemywings]

I know Silm tells us essentially that Nerdanel was a moderating force on Feanor, but I refuse to believe she was the “holder of the brain cell” as the current fandom phrasing goes, or the Only Sane Man in the house. #1 because I don’t think someone like that would have married a person like Feanor in the first place; and #2 because it’s just boring as fuck imo

Silm also tells us that Nerdanel was basically the only one to ever change Feanor’s mind through counsel, and that they were “companions on many journeys” and that it was only his later deeds that “grieved her.” Which idk doesn’t sound to me like a description of someone who spent her whole time in this relationship demanding Feanor behave more responsibly and trying to reign in his passions. Feanor and Nerdanel’s relationship is, in my view, very much posited as a love story of equals. Other details we know are that a) Feanor married young (no comment on Nerdanel’s age iirc); and b) His choice in spouse was surprising to the rest of the Noldor. This has always suggested, to me, that Feanor fell very hard and very fast for Nerdanel, and that he was convinced she was The One, and that their relationship was formed on a deep understanding of each other as people. Feanor didn’t care that Nerdanel was “not the fairest of her people” or that as the crown prince of the Noldor, he could perhaps have cast a much wider net in a search for a spouse. Furthermore, because Elves don’t seem to marry for politics, Nerdanel had no serious motivation to agree unless she also wanted to get married.

Which brings me to my main point: Nerdanel saw Feanor’s slightly unhinged behavior and went “damn that’s pretty hot.” You will never convince me that Feanor’s burning passions aren’t exactly what attracted Nerdanel to him in the first place. Yes they make him hot-tempered and impulsive and occasionally (self-) destructive, but they also make him interesting. Feanor feels so much about everything and his deep need and desire to create and to understand and better the world around him was precisely what made Nerdanel take another look at him. She could get underneath the prickliness to the artist, the scholar, and she loved those things, and maybe she even loved how much he rejected anyone’s efforts to make him quiet down or behave differently, to make himself more likeable. They had seven kids together--which, iirc, is the most kids of any Elven couple in Arda--ever. Is that not supposed to be indicative of the passion these two held for each other?

And frankly, I would also buy she willingly took his side in most family feuds, even when she knew Feanor was being unreasonable, and furthermore, that she found a great deal of his disruptive behavior entertaining. Anaire and Earwen can try to convince her to push Feanor to apologize to Fingolfin for his latest Incident, but is she going to? Not unless Feanor’s done something really outrageous. Otherwise, she probably can’t even get through telling him “that was really unnecessary” without laughing. Nerdanel, apologize for Feanor’s behavior? Not likely!

Nerdanel acted as a moderating force on Feanor in that I think he was just calmer around her. He’s a very volatile person and we know that he never meshed well with his step-family and possibly felt out of place generally owing to Miriel’s fate, but I think with Nerdanel it felt like he had found a place. She understood him and they were partners and they were going to do this Life thing together. With Nerdanel, I think he began from a more relaxed, less reactive place, which had a corresponding impact on his behavior. And of course, because he felt Nerdanel understood him (and liked him), and he respected and loved her, he was willing to listen to her counsel (sometimes) when he would take no one else’s.

Lastly, the idea of Nerdanel spending hundreds or thousands of years as Feanor’s put-upon wife, trying to manage him and their seven children, essentially reduced to a Nagging Wife stereotype as she acts as the only restraint on him is just so boring and what an incredible, appalling waste of her character. Why don’t you just slap her down in a 1960s sitcom? I think Nerdanel deserves more than that. She had no reason to marry Feanor except that she wanted to, because she had spent a lot of time with him and she wanted him, she loved him, and she saw a future for them together, as partners.

[erynalasse]

Sometimes I just wanna see an AU where Fingon and Maedhros reunite in Beleriand without Thangorodrim in the middle of it all. 

The thing about the rescue is that it’s very heroic, very dramatic, and very conclusively proves that Fingon can put friendship and loyalty above whatever betrayed feelings he carries about Losgar. I’m sure there were conversations—lots of them, surely!—but at the same time, when your cousin braves Morgoth’s fortress itself to save you, the rest kind of follows from there. 

Just can’t get the idea out of my head, y’know? There’s nothing more tasty than someone expecting the most final of rejections and getting a hug instead.  

Picture Fingolfin and his sons sending a delegation to the Fëanorian camp after they cross the Ice. I don’t think anyone on either side knew what to expect. The Fingolfinians have no explanation for what happened to the ships, and the Fëanorians weren't even expecting the other force to show up. There’s tons of tension, probably a lot of saber-rattling on both sides, and Fingolfin is genuinely thrown by seeing Maedhros wearing the Noldóran’s crown when he spent days preparing to face his mad half-brother. 

I think at this point Maedhros was probably already planning to give the crown to Fingolfin. Rescue aside, all the other reasons why the abdication made sense in canon still apply. The entire house’s legitimacy for the kingship is in ashes just like the ships. But something that big comes out in a private discussion between Maedhros and Fingolfin, not in public, not during their first meeting. So the two rulers bow to each other and make all the right speeches of humble apology and gracious acceptance, and all the while Maedhros is very carefully not looking at Fingon. Somehow nobody dies. 

Maedhros knows his cousin can’t kill him because that would really set this fragile peace on fire. But almost anything else is fair. Fingon may never speak to him again, especially after his brother’s wife dying on the Ice. What good did standing aside at Losgar do for that?

Finally, finally, Maedhros gets a moment alone with Fingon in the middle of this chaos. Fingon probably comes to him, since Maedhros is probably assuming the worst until he’s proven otherwise. What can Maedhros say to him? I missed you deserves an acidic response. I tried to stop him is a pathetic excuse. I never meant this to happen can’t bring back the dead. I will make this right is already a lie, because there are no reparations for a betrayal this complete. 

In the end, Fingon speaks first. “I heard about Ambarto. I'm sorry, Maitimo.”

Maedhros nearly loses his composure altogether at the fresh grief. “I heard about Arakáno,” he returns. Fingon’s head bowed, and this bridge of shared grief for little brothers lost far too soon gives Maedhros something to cling to in the storm. 

“I am so, so sorry.” There. The only words he could give. 

Fingon’s face crumples in the way that could mean he wants to laugh or weep or start screaming. Sometimes it also heralds a very unwise decision, like— 

“Maglor told me you stood aside.”

Where is this going? Fingon has stepped closer, and Maedhros can’t breathe. “It stopped nothing, Findekáno, you know that—”

“—it matters to me—”

“—that just means I could have betrayed you more fully, Findekáno, what is there to appreciate—”

“You are so infuriating, Maitimo,” his cousin hisses, yanking him forward into—an embrace? “Stop taking your father’s blame on yourself.”

Maedhros stands there and trembles for a few minutes before squeezing Fingon back fiercely and burying his face in his gold-braided hair. He doesn’t mean to weep, but he can’t seem to help it either. The crushing relief leaves him breathless. He has spent so long holding together his brothers and his people through one loss after another that the joy blooming in his heart hurts almost as much as the grief. 

“We have so many things to talk about, Maitimo,” his cousin says, pulling back enough to wipe roughly at his own face. “But we are going to talk about them together,” he emphasizes, after taking in Maedhros’ renewed tension. 

For the first time since Valinor, Maedhros finds he can laugh joyfully, not bitterly. “Yes. Together.”

[barad-dur-archivist]

The Tale of Erien

Kanarussa Anairanel Erien, later named Thuringwethil, was born during the Long Peace, in the autumn of F.A. 412. She was the daughter of Fingon and Maedhros, and spent her early years in Hithlum, in Meramar, a small home nestled in the foothills of the Mountains of Mithrim, carved out of a small cave on the command of High King Fingolfin, with a great but concealed window set at tree-height, from which the forest could be seen, and the lake in the distance.

From early childhood, Erien was much alike in mood to Maedhros, strong-willed and steadfast, with the same gentle spirit he had been known for before the torments of Angband had darkened his heart, and that he had gotten from his own mother. But she also possessed the quick intellect and determination of Fingon, and in truth, of her parents, Fingon was more dear to her heart. In form she was nearly identical to Maedhros, tall and slender with the freckled skin and burnished copper-golden eyes of the descendants of Fëanor, but her hair was the dark brown of the house of Fingolfin, though in the light of Anar it glinted copper, and from a young age she took to wearing it plaited with gold, as Fingon did.

The names she was known by in childhood are as follows:

KANARUSSA  f.n.  A combination of the names of her parents, not based on meaning, but loosely translates to “Strong Copper.” This was the first father-name given to her, as she had two father-names.

ANAIRANEL  f.n.  Second father-name, made from the names of her grandmothers. The name would translate to “most blessed daughter,” though like her first father-name, it is not meant to have a specific meaning but to echo family names. This name held the place of her amilessë until she received one.

ERIEN  m.n.  This name was given to her by Maedhros, when she was just under two years old, as an amilessë. This name was an amilessë tercenyë, with the Sindarin meaning of “lonely daughter” alluding to her later fate, though in Ñoldorin Sindarin it could be interpreted as “Daisy,” and many of the flowers grew along the paths near Meramar, and the child was rather fond of them.

When she was around ten years of age, Erien would also choose a kilmessë, but this was known only to herself, her parents, and her younger brother, who would not remember it. Erien herself would cease to recall all of her old names, save a shadow of a memory of them, after undergoing her transformation into Thuringwethil, the vampire Lieutenant of Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

As a child, Erien often ventured into the forests alone, causing great worry for her parents, but despite their warnings not to stray too far afield from Meramar, the excursions continued. It was for this reason that, while she was not yet capable even of lámatyáve, Fingon and Maedhros began to teach her to wield a blade. It was reasoned that, as of yet, there was no expectation that she should begin to cease her curious ventures, and she should at the very least be able to defend herself in some small way.

After Erien’s fifth year, Maedhros would frequently leave for long periods at a time to return to Himring and ascertain that it was fortified, and visiting Fingolfin as well, having become restless and fearing that the Siege of Angband might be broken and the peace of Erien’s early childhood might be disrupted.

Maedhros’ wanderings were halted in F.A. 435, when Erien’s younger brother was born. The borders were secured, and none of Morgoth’s forces had broken the leaguer for some time, and for a time indeed it seemed as if all was quiet, and Maedhros and Fingon desired to recall again the joy and hope they had felt with the birth of Erien, and wished for Erien, who due to the secrecy of their home and family had spent many of her years without companionship save for her parents and their horses and the creatures of the forests. They had a second child, who was named Findevarno, and also Artanáro, and given the amilessë Finellach by Fingon. But Erien his sister called him Gil-Galad, for his silver hair that shone like starlight, and by that name he would be remembered, though he used the name Ereinion until the War of the Elves and Sauron in the Second Age.

In the year 438 of the First Age, when Erien was twenty-six years of age, still a child in hröa but wise and clever in mind, and Gil-Galad only two and a half years, just beginning to gain lámatyávë, the fate that their parents had long feared fell upon the house of Fingon and Maedhros. The two children were close, being one another’s only companions, and Erien had continued her wanderings in the forests of Mithrim, and would now bring Gil-Galad with her at times to show him all of her haunts. As she had not once encountered danger beyond what she could evade or handle, and always returned to Meramar without injury, the fears of their parents were far lessened from what they had once been, though the worry lingered, and not without cause.

In the past, Erien had always returned before nightfall, as that was the one stipulation to her ventures that could not be defied, and she had accepted this, knowing that the dark things grew bolder when the sun had gone down. But this day, the sun had not shone, and a strange gloom hung over Meramar, when it had been in days past full of light and peace and safety. Erien and Gil-Galad had gone out in the early afternoon in search of flowers, which Erien wished to teach her brother how to weave into crowns and into the braids of their hair— a talent she had quite perfected. They had not meant to be gone for long, but as darkness fell over the forests, they had still not returned.

Maedhros and Fingon left Meramar as the light faded, and searched the forests for signs of their children well into the night. After a few hours of searching, they found a few scattered, plucked daisies, lying along a freshly-worn path through the trees. Swiftly, they followed the trail left, no doubt, by Erien in haste. Upon creating a small hill, a band of Orcs was seen in the vale below, and there were foul wolves with them, and they were searching and came near to a patch of undergrowth, within which shining locks of silver hair could be seen. At the sight, a fell light kindled within Maedhros’ eyes, and he leapt straightaway into battle, sword drawn with its edge alight as if by a white flame, and Fingon followed swiftly behind. The Orcs and their beasts were quickly slain, and the last Maedhros held at swordpoint, demanding the location of Erien, who was not in the underbrush with her brother. The Orc told all without hesitation, as the fury of Maedhros was terrible, and he spoke with the bitter and harsh speech of Angband at this time— and there was no creature of Morgoth that knew not the death-defier, the white-sword, and they feared him greatly. They had been sent to take captives and bring them to Angband, particularly, children and youths, and they had had the two Elven children in their grasp, but a strange trance had overcome them, and the children had slipped away. The elder of the two had left a trail, and chase had been given, but she had not been found and it had run cold, so they sought the younger, and would have found and taken him again had Maedhros and Fingon not arrived.

After the information was given, Maedhros slew the Orc, but Fingon had already begun to follow the trail. Maedhros turned then to Gil-Galad, who lay, pale as death and with a sheen of sweat upon his brow, but still living. Maedhros then took him into his arms, holding him against his shoulder, and followed Fingon. They traced Erien’s tracks to the edge of a high riverbank, with churning waters, swollen with recent rain, beneath it. There, the trail ended, with a great disturbance of the earth at the edge. Beneath, halfway to the waters, one of Erien’s leather shoes had fallen.

In despair, Fingon climbed down into the gorge to search for Erien, but there was no sign of her body, yet they feared that she had been lost amidst the waters of the river— choosing death before certain captivity.

Fingon and Maedhros, unable to do anything more, then returned to Meramar, but further despair awaited— in their absence, their home had been sacked, and the emblem of Angband emblazoned upon the door. Grief and fury then overtook Maedhros, and he gave Gil-Galad to Fingon, telling him to ride swiftly to the house of Fingolfin, for their horses had strayed but not too far. And though unhappy at this, Fingon obliged, and also accepted Maedhros’ second instruction— that none but Fingolfin, who knew already, should know that Gil-Galad was of the line of Fëanor. Then, Fingon rode swiftly to his father’s house, bringing with him the stricken Gil-Galad.

Maedhros hunted for some time in the forests of Mithrim until he had found the last of the raiding party and destroyed them, and searched still more for some sign of Erien, to no avail, and was forced to accept that she was gone. He then returned to the house of Fingolfin, where he dwelt a little while, to bring Fingon tidings of his hunt and make certain that Gil-Galad would indeed recover. When asked of Erien’s fate, he said, “Her choice was well-made, for she is young and does not fall under the Doom and the curse of our kin, and will thus be reborn and dwell in the Blessed Realm, rather than spending long years in torment.” Fingon did not agree fully, but said nothing, and it weighed upon them both.

But before long, Maedhros left Hithlum, once Gil-Galad was recovering, but before he woke, claiming that, now that their life in Melamar had ended, it would be best that he grow up without knowing of that part of his kin. Again, Fingon dissented, but Maedhros would not relent, and left again for Himring, where he would remain, and he would not again meet Gil-Galad, save from a distance, and without knowing that the same was his own child. For Gil-Galad would be, before long, sent to Nargothrond, and then to the Falas after that, for his safety, and become known by the name Ereinion.

But now we return to the tale of Erien, for it does not end where Maedhros and Fingon had feared and, in truth, hoped. While out on their venture, a fell song had ensnared the children, luring them from their path, where the enemy fell upon them. Now, being quick to act and to learn, and with some knowledge of Songs of Power, Erien devised a plan once the trance had left her, and still possessing the flowers she had plucked, she left them trailing behind them, and it was this trail that Fingon and Maedhros followed. But that was not the extent— for she suspected that they might come too late. And having heard the Song once, she put forth all the power she possessed (which was no small amount, being akin to some of the greatest Singers of Arda), and sang, though the dark song brought a great ache within her. With this she was able to bring their captors under her command, to a degree, and their grips loosened, and she took Gil-Galad, who had fallen under the Song as well, and fled for some way, before concealing him within the undergrowth. She then devised to lead their captors away and ran into the woods, swift-footed and instinctive after years of venturing. In this way, her trail was caught, and she brought them far from Gil-Galad, until she came to the banks of a river. There, she stopped, for she knew not these lands, and had not suspected these obstacles. And there, a presence more fell and terrible than that of the Orcs arrived, and Sauron, Lieutenant of Angband took form fell yet fair before her, and began to sing anew that fell song that had ensnared her before. But knowing now the notes, Erien stepped back, casting herself from the edge of the bank, hoping to be able to swim away, or at the very least preferring death to capture— for, though her parents had not spoken of it aloud, she was able to tell enough of Angband from the marring of Maedhros’ body.

But her fate was not to be so easy, as before she landed in the waters, she was ensnared, and all passed into darkness. She would not wake again before being within the gates of Angband, deep beneath the earth.

Thus, she spent much time within the terrible walls, and under the influence of Sauron Morgoth’s Lieutenant she forgot her kin, her names, and from him she learned fell songs, and changed in nature and body, so that she fed not off of food and drink, but the very life-force of other beings, and drank their blood for nourishment. And when the siege was broken, and Sauron had taken Tol Sirion and filled it with darkness, turning it into Tol-in-Gaurhoth, she was his lieutenant and messenger, and became known by the name Thuringwethil, “she who is cloaked in shadow.” For wearing a magically-woven cloak, combined with her own power that had been nurtured in darkness, and the magic learned from Sauron, she could take flight on great wings, and conceal herself in darkness, and she became one of the greatest terrors of the region, save for Sauron himself, and Draugluin, greatest of the werewolves.

There, she remained, with the memory of her childhood in Meramar, and of her family, hidden and shadowed, until the arrival of Lúthien. After the defeat of Sauron, Thuringwethil strove briefly in Song against Lúthien, for her loyalty to the Lieutenant of Morgoth was great, surpassed only by the loyalty of Sauron to his lord. But her dark song was defeated by Lúthien’s, and in doing so the shadow was lifted from her mind, and she recalled her childhood at least for a time— and in grief and distress she removed her magical cloak and gave it to Lúthien as a token of thanks, both for lifting the shadow from her mind and for sparing her. Then, she fled into the wilds beyond. Little is known of what happened to her after this, but she did not again come among her kin, for the darkness still weighed heavy upon her. It can be assumed that her spirit, weary of her twisted body and of striving with the darkness, may have departed and at last fled into the West to Mandos, but it may also be that she met some grave fate and was slain, and her spirit refused the summons and lingered in Middle-Earth, corrupted, perhaps coming again under the control of the darkness.

[fingolfinwiththesteelchair]

Mightiest Elf Fight Club - ROUND 2, SIDE B

See side A for more elf options

BELEG IS OUT - condolences to his supporters in the notes. Rest assured, he fought bravely

These elves are competing in a tournament! We're speeding things up, so the two elves who get the most votes in each poll - for a total of four elves - will be eliminated in this round. Select the elf in this group that you think would come in LAST, I repeat, vote for the elf in LAST PLACE. The elf you vote for will be ELIMINATED from fight club.

There was some confusion in the last round, so I want to clarify that magic is 100% allowed. Taking magic away from an elf seems a bit like removing a person's liver and kidney before putting them in a fight club; magic and Songs of Power cannot be untangled from the Eldar, especially those born in Aman who have it oozing out of their pores. Steel and arrow and magic and song are all allowed in fight club; the crowd wants blood. If someone wants to dance their opponent to sleep or rapbattle them into submission, more power to them

Find propaganda and mighty deeds below the cut

Maglor: Maglor was one of the best bards in Middle Earth - which is very important in a world where Songs of Power exist. Maglor held a breech against Morgoth, known as Maglor's Gap, for four and a half centuries, and fought in countless battles against Morgoth. Last son of Feanor standing. Weaknesses: Silmarils, oaths.

Glorfindel: One of the few beings to successfully slay a Balrog, Glorfindel died and came back to life (he did it before Gandalf made it cool). He spent his time in The Fellowship of the Ring gleefully chasing down the ringwraiths, who were so scared of him that between the choice of Glorfindel and a magically-pissed off river, they chose the river. Weaknesses: needs a haircut

Rog: One of Tolkien's earlier characters, Rog was the chief of the Hammer of Wrath. Rog led his people against the forces of the enemy during the Fall of Gondolin. He was said to be the strongest of Ñoldoli. Weaknesses: getting cornered, but who isn't

Gil-Galad: The elf so cool no one knows who his parents are. The Last High King of the Ñoldor, Gil-Galad held the ring Vilya. He fought against Sauron's armies in the second age, and then again during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, where he engaged Sauron in single combat and won, driving him back. Weakness: fiery hands

Maedhros: Maedhros has fought in countless battles against Morgoth, including orchestrating the Union of Maedhros. He's known for his ferocity with the sword. He held the fort of Himring against the tides of Morgoth's forces for nearly all of the First Age. Everyone wants him carnally. Weaknesses: Silmarils, oaths.

Galadriel: A Ñoldor straight from Aman, Galadriel is said to be the greatest of elven-women. The bearer of the ring Nenya and a member of the White Council, Galadriel aided in the Battle of the Field of Celebrant and helped drive the shadows of Sauron from Dol Guldur. Weaknesses: temptation

Finrod: Finrod has fought in the Dagor Bragollach, and later joined Beren in his quest against Morgoth and Sauron. Finrod got into an epic rap battle with Sauron, and then, completely naked, Finrod killed a werewolf with his bare hands and his teeth. Weaknesses: Beren

Fingolfin: A High King of the Ñoldor, Fingolfin braved the Helcaraxë, fought in the Battle of Sudden Flame, and then rode out alone to Actually-demigod-Satan's house, knocked on his door, and told him to come out and fight him one on one. And then he almost killed Actually-demigod-Satan, dealing seven devastating blows that would never heal. DILF. Weaknesses: Hammers

[maglors-anion-gap]

Duobingo: Finrod/Lúthien 👀

every time i say i'll answer ask games it takes me a week, i'm sorry, i will do it again :(

So Finrod and Luthien I think is the arm of the triangle folks tend to ignore. I definitely see more luthien/beren and finrod/beren. But! Finrod spent some time in Menegroth with Galadriel, he must have known Luthien! I'd be interested to explore how their dynamic shakes out even though I don't have extremely strong opinions on how they'd be.

Good platonic footing because I think they have a lot of similarities - Luthien is all "I'm getting out of this house if it's the last thing i do" and Finrod goes on a death march to just see middle earth. Good romantic food because it gives me andreth/aegnor parallels in that luthien dies for good the second time; however, I can only really see romance working if they're poly with beren because come on. *gestures at how they are both so ride or die (specifically die) for beren in canon.* either way, Beren is the filling in this sandwich (interpret this as you like).

I forget now why I said "they could make each other worse" but I think it's because being on a suicide quest for self-determination, which for one of them involves renouncing one's family, people, and culture, and for the other means accepting and going willingly to a painful death, is likely to create a hideous headspace. I talk a lot about suicidal fingolfin but I have some thoughts about these two now actually...

We nearly had us a bingo but I'm not sure if there's even a beehive of discourse for me to swing at for this one, it's a little too wholesome and het. But if you have any ideas for discourse (or how to un-wholesome these two) PLEASE let me know!

[doodle-pops]

House of Fingolfin | Having A Smart (Scientist) S/O

Request: Greetings my favourite storyteller! May I please request a headcannon with the Sons of Feanor? They’re s/o is a certified genius in like science or mathematics and how they’d react? Or the Nolofinweans? Or the Lords of Gondolin? I love all the elves so much, lol. Hope your feeling happy and healthy! - anon

A/N: Decided to go with the House of Fingolfin for a change. Had a lot of fun writing this since I'm also doing a science major at Uni and got to talk a lot about science in general.

Fingolfin

An extremely intelligent person who prides themselves in the vast collection of knowledge he was able to acquire growing up, Fingolfin would be in awe at your remarkable level of academia.

We know he chose to focus more on politics and law, so the world of science and philosophy, to some extent on the latter, would be new to him, thus Fingolfin would spare no excuse to not sit with you and listen to your ramblings.

You fill his knowledge on chemistry, biology, physics and maths. Do expect millions of cocked heads and questions flying your way whenever you mention some modernized words when describing some scientific phenomenon.

He becomes marvelled at the vast collection of information you have stored in your tiny brain and is quick to inquire where you obtain them and who taught you.

I can see him making some comments about how you’re much smarter than his older brother in the ways of science. He knew that if Feanor learned about his lover being much smarter than him, the endless comments about them would be rolling off his tongue.

This prevents him from showing you off as much as he’d like to avoid Feanor making any insults are jabs at you.

You would have a lab/inventory set up somewhere in the palace or at your house and Fingolfin has hooked on every little instrument his eyes fall on. He doesn’t touch but he’ll just stare and attempt to figure out its purpose without asking questions, trying to remember if you’ve ever spoken about it.

He doesn’t take part in your experiments, instead, he’ll stand at the side and observe you mix chemicals together and gape as the colours change and effervescences are formed.

Because of this, Fingolfin would invest in obtaining the best scholars to work with you and advise you to teach your knowledge to the younger upcoming generation.

Fingon

He’s trailing behind you everywhere you go because you’re always dropping some random fact about the environment and linking it to other science subjects which leaves him amazed.

He’s learned a lot growing up from some of the best scholars his father provided but never had anyone ever taught him knowledge like this.

Fingon loves to spend time around you or stay locked up with you in your room because you’re always building some little gadget to go along with a hypothesis you came up with. He loves to take part in assisting you.

He’ll go around telling everyone who knows about your intelligence that he’s your little helper, thus he knows almost as much as you do. It’s a cute sight to see him boasting about your knowledge.

Sometimes whenever he's out on his own and he comes across little phenomena, if there's people around, he'll recall that you taught him and explain it with a bright smile on his face. He does his best to use all the scientific terms you used when explaining.

No time spent with you is boring because you’re always taking him on some adventure into the woods to investigate some new animal or plant species. He’s happy to accompany you and give you any extra information that you may have missed.

If you’re a scholar and have debates, know that Fingon is front and centre listening intensively to every word that slips past your lips. He even nods along to what you’re saying even though he doesn’t understand.

He enjoys listening to you talk about every science subject because “You never make them sound boring like my scholars did.” The little twinkle in your eyes as you explain to him about the stars and how they’re made makes his brain combust.

That’s perhaps his favourite aspect about your knowledge, you knowing about the stars and explaining to him their life cycle. Spending hours under the night sky and talking him through what space looks like, congratulations, Fingon thinks you’re a Maiar in disguise.

Turgon

Taking after his father in terms of education, Turgon delves into law and politics and has found it more exciting than science. This doesn’t meet that he has no clue about science, he just prefers not to indulge in the area of academia.

When he meets you, Turgon is surprised by your level of enthusiasm in the area of study. He’s never met someone so excited and by understanding the nature and mechanics behind the way the world worked. He understood that the Valar existed, and they made things go a certain way and that was enough.

Of course, you would change his mind and teach him that it wasn’t exactly like that. He’d be amazed by your theories and hypothesis, but it wouldn’t be enough to draw him in until you conduct experiments.

Show him the light spectrum using the glass prism and how rainbows are truly formed, conduct colour-changing experiments through chemistry or dive into advanced medicine and blow his mind.

It would be then, that you would have earned Turgon’s respect and captured his attention. Academic conversation and tons of questions in hopes that you would provide an answer for everything, and you always do.

Similar to his older brother, he’d have suspicions that you’re a Maiar in disguise which would explain your vast knowledge on numerous topics.

Late nights conversation about the stars and the ocean or the forest. Some might drift into becoming philosophical and he doesn’t mind, he considers you of high academia and as such, you are wise in his eyes.

He always seeks you out for answers even if he may have learned about them as a child, you always provide extra that discombobulates his brain. There’s this growing smile that spreads across his face as you’re explaining to him about some natural phenomena, and it warms your heart.

Your heart always grows teary whenever you notice how invested he is in your area of interest.

Aredhel

A bit disinterested when you begin to explain your interest in science to her since she’s more of the physical aspect of nature by hunting. She doesn’t really have time to sit and listen to you explain to her the differences in the mechanics of life.

The only way to grab her attention is if you specialize in biology and also take interest in the medical field. Talk to her about the animals in the forest and how they work or their nature and may she’ll sit and listen.

Because she’s a hunter, they are many things that she’ll cut you across the re-explain that she believes you may have gotten wrong, particularly about the animals. She’ll boast about having a greater knowledge in that area which prompts your relationship to be filled with proving the other wrong.

You give her advice about how certain animals work and then her going “Nope, incorrect, they don’t”, she’ll follow it up by sitting you down to give you a full-on explanation of where you went wrong. At times, it feels as if she’s the scientific one and not you.

It’s not done out of spite, it's just her nature of correcting people when she knows they’re wrong in her area of expertise. There are other areas you can grab her attention where she won’t challenge you, but she’d be overly inquisitive.

Do some crazy experiments and made chemicals change their colours or dive into alchemy and create some new element and watch as he chooses to stick around more. Careful, she has curious hands that touch everything she’s marvelled by.

It is very easy to bore her since her personality gravitates towards being free-spirited and extrovert-like. Thus, most of your conversations need to really be accompanied by experiments or they just need to be mind-blogging to keep her seated.

Build her an inverted camera or a telescope and watch as she steals it from you for her hunts. (it’s always the stars that attract them to science *sighs*)

She’ll sit for hours under the sky in an open field after kidnapping you during her hunts and begs you to talk about the heavens. Tell her everything you know about the stars and the moon. Tell her you know what heaven looks like and you’re never leaving her side.

But have no fear, at the end of the day Aredhel brags and boasts about you like her life depends on it. You’re the smartest person ever, and even if she knows more than you in other areas, she still comes to you for information.

Maeglin

Ah yes, one of the perfect people to show your interest to. As a blacksmith, Maeglin would be into science to some extent – Material Sciences for metals and rocks. If you’re in that area of that you’ve just captured his attention.

He’s eager to learn all the information you have in that area and build on his own to better his craft. Even if you don’t specialize in that area, Maeglin would listen to you for hours as you talk about the mechanics of nature.

Do experiments with him by testing the metals and rocks and have him as your helper. Teach him all that he wants to learn and extra tidbits, fill his mind with wonder and awe.

Maeglin would inquire where you obtained all this knowledge because he’s never read any books that contained such vast information.

A great topic to talk to him about would be living in the ocean. As someone who’s grown up in the forest and city, having never seen the sea by only hearing about it, this is one way to catch his interest.

Tell him about what the ocean is like and all the creatures. This is the moment for all you biology and environmental science students to show off your vast knowledge (don’t fail me here and tell me you don’t know anything).

Maeglin would ask you millions of questions about the sea with mirth and wonder in those beautiful eyes. Draw what sea creatures look like and their variants. Show him the whales and fishes and spike his excitement for wanting to see the ocean.

If you’re a scholar then expect to see Maeglin attending some of your sessions as you teach. He has to proud lover’s smile stretching from ear to ear as he looks on. Maeglin could not have been any prouder of your accomplishments.

Argon

He's similar to his eldest brother when it comes to trailing behind you anywhere you go because everything you do is accompanied by the greatest explanation that blows his mind.

You could repeat a piece of information he would have learnt as a child and he’d still be gaping at you because “Whoa, that was just amazing. How did you know that?”

Take him everywhere you go and even if you don’t, he’s tagging along like an overly excited puppy. It’s a cute sight to behold – an overly tall ellon trailing behind with stars in his eyes.

You could talk to Argon about anything, and he would never find the topics boring. There’s excitement in your voice thus it excites him. There are times when you explained some natural phenomena and it happened before his eyes, and he’d jump up and shout in awe because he understands how it’s happening.

Talk to him about nature and chemistry (conduct some experiments and make him believe that you’re a wizard) and he’d use your wisdom for when he goes hunting.

You’re the smartest person alive to him, so he comes to you for the smallest convenience even if it’s not your area of study. Argon may not seem it, but he loves to stay up late hours into the morning talking about every topic your conversation shifts to. He might not be able to contribute, but he’s open to learning.

There’s this child-like wonder he gets when the opportunity to re-explain some phenomenon you’ve told him occurs. He’ll stand proud and tall with confidence to repeat all the fascinating ideologies you’ve told him.

Like the rest of his siblings, behold the mighty power of the stars, drag him outside to sit under the stars and blow his mind with vast knowledge. He’s going to beg you to be an apprentice for Varda so you could learn more and share with him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @someoneinthestars @aconstructofamind @mysticmoomin @lilmelily @hoshinokurasa

[dialux]

It is not a dream, whatever they say afterwards.

...

She is born at the stroke of midnight, on the hottest day of the year. Anaire sweats and curses through the last week of her pregnancy. Fingolfin claims to have hauled blocks of ice down the Calacirya for his wife’s comfort, balanced on his broad shoulders.

But none of it matters, because the moment that little Aredhel, blood-slicked and howling, slips from her mother’s body, lightning flashes, thunder claps, and the heavens open up around her.

...

She is born in rain. She is born into a tempest that shatters trees and warps stone. She is born into the kind of elemental fury that cannot be taught, only experienced.

...

“There is not only joy to be had in life,” says her mother, once, tending to cuts on Aredhel’s back that were carved by a bear that Aredhel had attacked, armed with nothing more than a knife and her own courage. “There is duty as well, my little girl. Duty and kindness and love.”

Aredhel laughs instead of screaming. “The day I find love shall be the day of my death.”

“Do not say that!”

“I have seen it.”

“Aredhel!”

“Wish freedom for me, if you must offer me something,” says Aredhel, and rises, ignoring the blood staining her gown and the pain. “But not love, and certainly not duty!”

...

The gown had been white before it was ruined. Aredhel washes it in her own bathroom, scrubs and scrubs until her blood and the bear’s blood finally fade, until the sun has bleached the stains to nothingness.

Then she wears it again, braids her hair out of the way, and stalks into the forest.

She doesn’t return until she has tamed the bear into friendship.

...

Forever after, she wears white.

...

It is a reminder: life is a stain. It might begin clean, but it shall never end that way. The only thing to do is to wash it out, and to scrub until one’s arms ache, and to let the cloth dry out before being stained once more.

Aredhel learns many, many tricks to removing the stains.

...

I will have vengeance, or I shall have death, Feanor had snarled in the courtyard of Tirion.

Anaire does not ask any of her sons to remain. She does not even speak to Fingolfin. But she is in Aredhel’s rooms when she returns, sitting in the silent darkness.

“Do not go,” she whispers.

Aredhel remembers bears and blood and bitterness on her tongue. Her life in Aman has been a cage, glittering and golden, and if the world outside it shall be dangerous- well, she has a knife, and her own rage, and the knowledge to scrub out stains.

“Do not try to stop me.”

“Have you no love for a mother?”

“I will have freedom,” says Aredhel levelly, and watches her mother’s face crumple, and refuses to feel guilty for it. “I will have freedom, or I shall have death.”

...

(She does not tell that story to her father. The one time he asks- they all know where Anaire was, that last night in Tirion- Aredhel looks at him, steadily, until he turns away.)

...

There are unforgivable things. Those boats- well, Aredhel has never been a forgiving person, and she does not wish to become one now.

...

There are immense storms on the Helcaraxe. Aredhel hears, sometimes, Lalwen laughing so loud it sounds like a scream. She does not weep: she has not wept for many, many years. Even as her people- those she trusted, those who trusted her- fall like flies, Aredhel does not falter.

The tears would freeze on her face, and she has no time to brush it off.

...

When Elenwe dies, Aredhel allows her brother one night to mourn. She holds little Idril in her arms, soothing the shudders away, and doesn’t release her to anyone else. Her brothers are with Turgon; her father is tending to their people. What Idril needs is someone who remembers her.

The next morning, Aredhel wakes Idril, and she brushes the little girl’s hair out until it shines, casting more wood than strictly necessary to ensure it doesn’t freeze. Aredhel’s fingers are not nimble enough for the proper braids, but she manages a reasonable enough facsimile for her niece.

Then she takes her to Turgon’s tent.

“Get up,” she says coldly.

Argon is curled around Turgon, trying to keep him from fading through sheer force of will. He sits up when he sees Aredhel, eyes wide, and she bares her teeth.

“Get him up,” she says flatly.

“I don’t think that’s...”

“Get out, then,” says Aredhel, and doesn’t watch him scuttle out. Argon will bring someone- either Fingon, or her father- and all that means is that she doesn’t have too much time. She glances down at Idril. “Watch.”

It is four steps from the entrance of the tent to the bed. Aredhel takes the steel knife she once used to attack a bear with- the knife she’d left deliberately exposed to the elements- and places the flat very cleanly against Turgon’s throat.

Turgon jerks at the chill. Aredhel goes with him, fluid as water, so she doesn’t cut his throat but keeps the knife against his skin.

He is stronger than her. Aredhel lets him finally throw her off- though it takes longer than she’d expected- and waits, because Turgon’s  thrashing has finally led him to catch sight of his daughter, his little daughter with her braids done in the Vanya style, looking like the miniature of her mother. The grief in his eyes is simply awful.

Aredhel waits.

And when he finally draws himself around Idril, sobbing but not the terrible, bone-chilling silence of an elf on the verge of fading, Aredhel leaves.

...

“You cannot save anyone,” Aredhel tells Idril, when Turgon finally allows her out of his sight. “But you can offer them a path back. Whether they take it or not is their choice.”

“The Burners,” says Idril, then- that’s what she calls the Feanorians, precocious child that she is- “will you give them a path back, then?”

Aredhel had loved Celegorm, and Curufin, and the twins, too. But she is not a forgiving person.

“If someone burns their bridges,” she says finally, “you do not owe them more tinder.”

...

(That is a lie.)

...

It is not that she is unforgiving.

It is that she does not wish to be forgiving.

...

When Fingon saves Maedhros, Aredhel visits the healer’s tent in the dead of night. She watches the agony of her cousin’s hroa, etched into his skin, and she does not feel triumph.

If she sees Celegorm again, she will fall into his arms, and she will forgive him everything.

But Argon is dead, and so is Elenwe, and so had they all come through the ice, embittered and betrayed. It is not that Aredhel does not want to forgive her cousins; it is that she fears what will happen if she does. She cannot spend her life waiting for a knife in the back.

Turgon wants nothing to do with them.

Fingon will not leave them behind.

And Aredhel does not wish to see another brother dead. She kisses Fingon, and she kisses Fingolfin, and she kisses Finrod and all his siblings, and then she disappears into the night with Turgon, having not spoken to any of her Feanorian cousins since before the Helcaraxe.

...

“Freedom is not a dream,” she tells her mother, once. “I don’t want it. I need it.”

“If what you wish for is total freedom,” Anaire had replied, “you will never have it.”

Aredhel thinks about her mother, who had loved to dance but been forbidden from it by her grandfather; she thinks about how beautifully Anaire dances in the privacy of their home. She thinks about the way Anaire has chained herself down to the thunder and fury of the House of Finwe, and she laughs.

“You would say that,” Aredhel tells her.

...

She builds Gondolin and she leaves Gondolin and she returns to Gondolin.

The day she finds love- the day she knows she finds love- is when she takes a spear meant for her son. It all cracks open and bleeds away, all the rage seething beneath her breastbone, all the fury she’s spent centuries tending to, all the anger that she’s never known the beginning or ending of, and Aredhel is burning with it, blazing, bright as the father who would soon ride to his death and the brother who would collapse under betrayal and the gods she’d once rejected.

She dies from it, of course, but Aredhel has never feared flame.

...

She is set free upon the river, her corpse dressed in the hands of the niece that she’d once cradled so tightly, her hair braided by the brother she chose to follow. To her son she has given her hairclasps; to Idril she has given the knife that once saved Turgon from fading.

(They say steam rose from her body, so great it enveloped all of Gondolin in a great fog for weeks to come.)

...

That knife- that trusty, small little knife- saves Idril and Earendil from Maeglin, atop the wind-battered tower of Gondolin, when Morgoth finally attacks.

...

Later- years later- Ages later- Aredhel falls into her mother’s arms once more. She is a mother now herself, and she has watched and walked beside and touched and loved dark things, and she is not the girl who’d walked into a forest to conquer her fear with not even a knife to defend herself. She was born in rain and died in a river, a High Lady of the Noldor. She was not felled by Morgoth. Poison took her at the end; not hatred, and not blood, and not flame.

She is the first of her family to be reborn.

“Was it worth it?” asks Anaire, once and only once. “Your dreams of freedom- was any of it worth it?”

Aredhel tosses her hair, bares her teeth.

Smiles.

“It was,” she says, “necessary.”

[tanoraqui]

…and of the Grandchildren of Indis

First off, I totally buried this lede before, but Indis IS an alien. Vanyar is an alien species. They’re mostly like humans but they have pointy ears, they’re taller and slimmer, they can see ultraviolet but they can’t really distinguish shades of red, and they have greater endurance for the Presence of Valar because, as a species, they have served the Powers of the universe for generations beyond counting. And maybe they’re longer-lived than humans? Not immortal, though.

Also, Fëanor and Nerdanel moved back to Tirion somewhere around their fourth child, or at least spent half the year there or something? It’s easier to raise superpowered children with more superpowered adults around, even if you’re still wildly outnumbered because everyone keeps having kids. They still built themselves a house elsewhere on the grounds, while Fingolfin & Anairë (and Lalwen) stayed in the main house with Finwë and Indis, and so did Finarfin & Eärwen, for the half a year that their family wasn’t in Atlantis instead.

On to superpowered babies and the management thereof!

Fingon’s power appears to be raising the dead, because that’s how he uses it most often—following departing souls into Mandos’s domain and bringing them back out again. However, in truth, Fingon’s power is the ability to pass unhindered into and out of the deep realms of Valar (though he’s on his own in dealing with anything that happens inside them, or for finding a door in the first place. Mandos is easy because death of a conscious soul briefly opens a spiritual door). This is because Eru Himself heard in the Great Music how this young hero trekked across half a galaxy, snuck into (the edges of) the black heart of Discord himself, rescued his errant cousin and through his love and courage won Manwë’s own help getting him home, and said, Hot Damn, Yeah, I’m Gonna Enable This Always.

Fingon doesn’t tend to remember these trips—he can get in and out, but even for a quarter-Vanya the experience tends to be overwhelming—so he doesn’t know this is what he’s doing—he just thinks he can do resurrection + he’s (un)lucky sometimes on epic adventures. The Valar all know—it was obvious from the time Indis took her first grandchild to be formally introduced to Manwë and Varda and Findekáno snuck under Manwë’s cloak and got lost in the pure essence of Sky for a while. He had a blast flying around, but it’s kind of embarrassing for the Valar and they wish their Father hadn’t done this, so none of them have ever mentioned it. Irmo assigned a different Maia to make sure Fingon never wanders too deep into the Dreaming.

Turgon can move rocks and stone with his mind, which is fairly simple to deal with actually. Fingolfin and Anairë just taught him about f=ma early so he didn’t was less likely to hurt anyone. Young Turukáno was mvp of the unofficial, completely non-parentally-sanctioned “superhero training” the kids all did in Sammy’s half-collapsed abandoned gold mine under the eastern garden.

It is a beautiful day in Tirion and you are a horrible Irissë with the ability to turn invisible [nb: applies to Aredhel at all ages]

Retcon!: Argon is a speedster. There needs to be a speedster in this family somewhere, dammit (Celechwes doesn’t count; she marries in, and is slower), and Argon IS known to run into danger. So, y’know…that was fun for his parents to try, ha, keeping up with…

I finally figured out the difference between Finrod’s power and Maglor’s! Maglor has a superhuman ability to Sing, to affect the world around him by manipulating its fundamental nature, but Finrod has a superhuman ability to hear Music—to sense and understand that fundamental nature in the first place. Maglor has to learn this skill before his Songs are effective via more than brute force of will; Finrod has to learn how to Sing in tune to what he hears, or with enough strength to alter the ambient Music.

Finrod was one of those kids who don’t talk at all until like age 3, at which point they bust out complete sentences, because until then he was just picking up the vibes of everything and everyone around him, and the easy rhythm of each day, and it was all comprehensible to him so why add words? He’d try to sing along sometimes, but he didn’t know how to Sing properly so it was just nonsense syllables with a melody that seemed vaguely mood-appropriate but totally made-up to everyone else.

Orodreth can walk on anything—vertical surfaces, upside-down surfaces, water, even air if he simultaneously focuses intently and doesn’t think about it very hard. This made him a…troublesome baby. His parents had to tie thick mosquito netting over his crib and playpen to keep him in. There was a house rule that he couldn’t climb higher than his own head height.

Baby Angaráto first turned his fists to invulnerable, Newtonian physics-defying iron when he was upset by the sound of a thunderstorm at age 8 months. His panicked flailing punched his father in the nose, sending Arafinwë sprawling several feet back with a thoroughly broken nose. There was a very firm house rule against any sort of punching forever after that, with any kind of hands (better not to get into the habit).

Fortunately, Aikanáro’s fire only burns other things if he really means it. He can, however, fly while burning because I think the Human Torch is a superb aesthetic, so between him an Artaresto…his parents got really good at jumping and at lovingly batting their children down using brooms. Fun fact: so long as Aegnor is still touching the fire he starts, it’s still “his” and can’t be put out by anyone or anything else, but after that it’s just fire.

It was very obvious immediately that Artanis was a projective telepath. She was Opinionated. She expressed these opinions aloud and mentally. This was actually very useful before she mastered speech, if tiring—but everyone in the extended family had fairly solid mental shields, as a basic superhero safety measure. And being a receptive telepath as well meant she picked speech up very quickly! …and continued to have Opinions.

I know I said earlier that Arafinwë opted to keep Irmo’s waiver on the worse dreams until after Finwë’s death and Fëanor’s madness, but it’s also likely that he wanted to participate in the family legacy and, frankly, there’s a range of action/drama that could be terrifying to a 2yo but not to a 12yo or adult—so by the time Artanis is born, he’s still accepting a shield from the worst (they’re wrong half of the time anyway, and most of the rest of the time he can’t stop them from coming true! He’s not shirking anything!) but does periodically dream his family being flung into buildings, suspended over villainous acid pits, etc. heroic perils that he knows are commonplace… But his telepathic baby daughter does not, so there’s a couple years where sometimes Arafinwë will have a perilous prophetic dream and Artanis will start screaming because she was eavesdropping, and not quiet until they, like, call the relevant relative on the phone and prove to her that they’re okay. Or, ideally, go visit that relative’s room so she can see/hear them properly, because minds don’t transmit over phones so people not within her telepathic range just aren’t real the same way. (This bothers Galadriel into adulthood; she always prefers in-person meetings.)

Silm Super AU thought of the day: Finwëans develop powers from babyhood, because I love a good “develops superpowers as metaphor for tween coming of age” as much as the next girl, but I even more love “frantic parents trying to manage horde of superpowered children age 0-18.”

This madness is, fortunately for the world at large, mostly confined to Tirion, Finwë’s massive ramshackle manor house and many-acre estate in the foothills of the Rockies. It’s not an ancestral vacation home or anything—well, not of Finwë. I imagine Finwë more in the ‘plucky kid from Brooklyn so heroic that the American government gods gave him superpowers” mold, though not necessarily literally Brooklyn.

I think when Fëanor was born, and his emotions radiated outward to everyone in 20 feet and sometimes his cries shook the walls, Finwë (Lightman??) mentioned half-jokingly on tv or something that he and Seamstress could really use a bigger house, and some totally random mundane human OC businessman whose life he’d recently saved offered a spare 6-bedroom, 50-acre estate 5 miles from the closest town. It wasn’t even a tax write-off, though it WAS an excuse to brag at parties that he was friends with famous superheroes. That guy is actually still a family friend.