#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.

[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

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[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.

[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.

[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!

[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.”

[sunflowersupremes]

I think I've made like, two sarcastic comments about how I'm glad the Finarfin you've mentioned isn't the Finarfin from my stories (or at least in the splinters like jewel shards verse) but I don't think I've asked, do you have any headcanons on Finarfin? I'm interested if you'd like to share any!

-@outofangband

@outofangband

Yes!!! I remember that comment. I also hope he’s a bit nicer than the Finarfin from Return in Chains, one of my fics (although that Finarfin isn’t evil… just… makes questionable decisions out of desperation, which is basically the Finwean Family Pastime).

I LOVE FINARFIN.

He thinks “Finarfin” (aka Finwe-Ara-Finwe) is a terrible name and can’t believe his brother would have done such a stupid thing. (He also thinks “Fingolfin” is a terrible translation).

After all his relatives took off and left them, he got put in charge of not only the country, but also literally everyone’s CRAP. Meaning, as the only remaining member of the house of Finwë, he had to figure out what to do with all the houses and possessions they left behind. He ended up boarding them up and leaving them, in the hopes that they would come back one day (elven possessions don’t rot or decay, after all).

The only time he used one of his relatives homes after they left was gifting Maglor’s house to Celebrían when she arrived. By that time he had accepted that Maglor would never return, and he figured she had the best claim to it (and it had the largest garden, which he knew she would like, and it was in the artist’s district which she loved). When Elrond actually managed to drag Maglor back with him, Arafinwë was SHOCKED. Thankfully, Maglor was fine with him gifting it to her and just moved in with them.

He just generally seems like he wants the best for everyone. I don’t think he’s a coward, I think he’s just very cautious (and he has a bit of foresight, which means he probably saw that the future would be WORSE if he went as well). I also like the idea that part of his reason for staying was ‘get on the Valar’s good side so I can eventually convince them to help’ not realizing that by the time they helped his entire family would be dead.

He has a great sense of humor and is generally a fun guy to be around. His assorted relatives know they’re always welcome at either of his homes (he has one in Tirion and one in Aqualonde) even if he’s not there himself. Half the time he gets back from vacation to find at least two random nieces/nephews chilling in his house.

He and Maglor both have a similar grasp of emotions and Osanwe. Maglor uses his gifts to fuck with people; Finarfin tries to use his to help people. He spends a lot of time going around fixing all the people Maglor has screwed with.

Arafinwë annoys Maglor precisely because he can see through Maglor’s attempts at manipulation. Maglor tried to trick him into doing something once and Finarfin calmly said ‘if you wanted attention you only had to ask’ (that, of course, was HIGHLY OFFENSIVE as far as Maglor was concerned).

Arafinwë does not want the crown. It is a running joke in Tirion that whenever someone from the line of Finwë is reborn or sails, he tries to give them the crown (it is true, actually, but no one else wants the thing either). He even tries to give it to Maglor once he turns up.

His attempt at inventing democracy backfired when he was elected.

Nerdanel becomes very close to him during the First Age while they bond over missing their children.

He keeps a memorial in the palace garden, with markers - made by Nerdanel - for every fallen member of the house of Finwë. They even add a marker for Gil-Galad after the Last Alliance even though no one has any idea who the fuck he is or if he’s related. The memorials are kept even after the dead are re-embodied, as a reminded of ‘that dumb thing you did that one time’

He makes annual trips to the Halls of Mandos just to ‘chat’ with Namo (and subtly inquire as to when he’s going to be getting his relatives back). Finrod’s release was, in part, to try to appease Arafinwë, but all it did was make him more determined that he COULD get the rest of his family back.

He informs Namo that no, no you will NOT be keeping my brother and his children until the Second Music, thank you very much. (Namo points out that their Fëar are very badly damaged, Arafinwë asks why the fuck Namo thinks that he - as a Vala - is best equipped to heal people who hate his guts)

Fëanor gave him a pet swan when he was five because Fëanor thinks swans are assholes and expected it to terrorize his younger brother. Instead Arafinwë befriended the swan and trained it to bite Fëanor on command.

Arafinwë typically doesn’t eat meat, the only exception is fish.

He can’t figure out why the Valar put Eönwë in charge of the host. I mean, he’s a great guy and a terrifying fighter, but he seems to have a few screws loose.

Elrond and Elros’ return to Gil-Galad was only because of Arafinwë. Maedhros and Maglor didn’t trust the host of the Valar, but Arafinwë sent them a letter promising to personally watch over the twins and arguing that they would be safer with the Host. Because of this, Elrond and Elros resented him for a long time, blaming him for taking them away from their adopted family.

Arafinwë spent a good chunk of the War of the Wrath keeping Eönwë from accidentally causing Diplomatic Incidents or Other Minor Catastrophes. The rest of the War was spent trying to work how the the fuck he’s related to Gil-Galad. He still isn’t sure, he’s pretty sure Fingon might have just picked up a random kid somewhere. Or he might be a Fëanorian, but he kind of hopes NOT. He loves his half-brother, but holy fuck.

It was his idea to turn Morgoth’s crown into a collar, because he was fucking pissed off by that point. It was mostly a joke, but Eönwë, being a himbo, went with it.

He was attempting to negotiate either the return of the Silmarils OR a different way to end the Oath when Maedhros and Maglor stole the Silmarils from Eönwë’s camp. One of the guards they killed was a childhood friend of Arafinwë. Arafinwë already had rooms waiting for Maedhros and Maglor back in Tirion, because as soon as he got them on a boat he was planning to take them straight home, whether that was the Valar’s plan or not.

Arafinwë had managed to arrange a pardon for Galadriel, but she was still angry and proud and announced that she didn’t want it, thus resulting in her getting a personal ban.

He knew Galdalf before he went to Middle Earth and gave him a very long list of things to tell Galadriel, most of which amounted to ‘get over yourself and apologize to the Valar so you can come home you fucking idiot (and please tell Elrond hello, he’s a lovely child, really)’

He adores the Hobbits and can’t believe Elrond managed to bring them. Gandalf who? He gives his grandson-in-law all the credit, thank you very much.

[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

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Prompts: Fingon visits Himring & Secret Relationship    

"Guess what Nelyo? We made it into the Mannish histories."

"I would hope that they have some records of the battles we won and the land we defend."

"Of course there’s that. But the two of us made it in, as a couple."

"What? How can you be happy that they intruded, and are now gawking in horror at two brothers so involved?"

"They’re not gawking! I admit, they don’t seem to have picked on us being brothers either. ‘Fingon the Valiant was close in heart with Lord Maedhros of Himring. Neither took a wife, delighting in each other’s company, and Fingon spent much of is time in Maedhros’s lands, for all his duties as Crown Prince.' You barely even have to read between the lines."

"Fuck. Has Fingolfin heard that account?"

"He has, but what of it? He knows that the half of the year I spend away from court is defending the Gap rather than living in Himring, so he's not looking for other answers."

"But the Men don't, of course." Maedhros nodded.

"Right. The rumors are even more fun than the histories."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Because Fingon the Valiant's title is well earned; he's saved Ethel Sirion dozens of times. But there's not a single report of his victories in the East."

"News takes a long time to travel, and I don't bother reporting every skirmish."

"I'd worry less if you did, you know."

"You'd worry less? I'm not the one who charged a dragon!"

"Only because there wasn't one here for you to fight. But yes, I've told all the commanders what you said, and implied that I tend to ride out under your command and let the victories be attributed to Himring's forces as a whole. A prince must know when to show humility, especially when dealing with those arrogant Feanorians."

"Do they believe you?"

"All the ones who actually know me do. But there's still gossip in the ranks, the absolute strangest tales. Some claim that Fingon is never seen outside the fortress itself. He rides in, and doesn't leave the keep for six months."

"Out with it."

"Rumors say that the noble crown prince goes to Himring solely to make sure the Eastern front is guarded against Morgoth. Lord Maedhros is ruthless and greedy though, and hates that the prince ever leaves. So the moment the Fingon enters Himring, Maedhros does whatever it takes to prevent him from leaving. Including hiding his horse - or his clothes. Or possibly just chaining the prince to his bed, and only releasing him when the roads grow too treacherous to pass. But Fingon is brave, and will not let a few hundred orcs or a snowstorm keep him from his duties in Hithlum."

Maedhros let his head fall back to the pillow. "Have you, perhaps, been encouraging these rumors? Telling Men about the drama and devotion in the house of Finwe or some such rot?"

"No! They came up with this all on their own, but it's riveting isn't it?"

"That's one word for it."

"I did send my valet to their feast halls once or twice to listen in on the rumors, and didn't forbid him from speaking once he'd picked up enough gossip. The don't recognize him, but he did remind them that I go back every year on purpose."

"How does that help?"

"If I go return to you every time, then either I'm willing or the rumors are false."

"That doesn't help your reputation very much."

"It helps some," Kano said with a shrug. "I'm thought lovesick rather than idiotic. And it maintains my renown in battle, rather than you defeating me so often. But you're right, it mostly paints you as less monstrous."

"I am well aware of what they say about me, the kinslayer and former thrall. I don't need Hithlum to approve of me."

"No, but it makes things more convenient, especially when you show up at court."

"By the time of my next visit, all of these gossipy Men will be sitting by the fire, too aged to stand; not in the front lines of your army."

"You say that, but Fingolfin sent an invitation."

"I'll decline it."

"For the celebration of three yeni since he took the throne? It would look churlish for you to stay away."

"And who will guard Himring while I'm gone?"

"Officially, Lord Maglor can is nearby and could take command of the fortress for a time. Unofficially, your steward would do a fine job."

"Let me actually read the invitation before arranging every detail, will you?"

"Of course."

(ao3)

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

i ain’t done anything for @tolkienocweek yet, mostly because my covid-induced neet-dom has decoupled me from any association with sidereal time and thus there’s no way i could guarantee getting something out on its specific day. still, i do have one character that could potentially qualify for day 3 (background characters) or day 4 (self-inserts), sorta. i’d like to introduce you all to the proprietor of the fëanorian ethics department, the as-yet-nameless fed elf

fed elf is a... moderately idealised self-insert of mine, though she’s taking on a life of her own

she’s also a noldo. of course she is

her Noldorin Craft™ is, as i’ve said before, arguing. she has very strong opinions about almost everything and will debate them at length

she’s moderately infamous for it in tirion

she’s especially fond of philosophy, in the ancient-greek asking-a-million-rhetorical questions style. what should we do? why do we do the things we do? why do the valar get to tell us what to do?

... you can probably tell which side of the fëanor/fingolfin debate she landed on, if it wasn’t already obvious

she’s not particularly close to any of the future capital-H House, but she is in their rough orbit. one of the miscellaneous guild trolls that form the rank-and-file of their initial expeditionary force

idk if she’s ~devoted to the cause enough to go to formenos, but when the trees get eaten and fëanor rolls up into tirion with the solution to all their spider problems, she is all for it

she’s a passing acquaintance of maedhros from those times when he’d show up in her guild hall for debate night, so she probably ends up with his crew, at least initially

... there’s a very good chance her first attempts at crafting a new noldorin ethical system happen on that horrible night aboard the blood-stained swanships of alqualondë

in any case, she gets good enough at murder to not die before the brothers hellspawn are divvying up east beleriand, and the formerly reasonably undelineated fëanorian host is splitting up into its various garrisons

most people stay with whoever they’re already riding with, but there are exceptions. she is one of them, as soon as she hears about caranthir’s Plans she immediately switches allegiance to the future lord of thargelion

he’s deliberately trying to set up on the trade routes! they’re gonna make contact with the dwarves! there are apparently trails leading over the blue mountains, links to communities of elves unlike she’s ever seen!

so many new people to argue with!!!!!!

so she heads up to lake helevorn, and helps with setting up the city. she winds up filling some middling role in east beleriand’s military bureaucracy, when she’s not on orc-killing duty

but her true passion is *~ethics~*

there is actually a practical component to this. due to Certain Events the noldor (especially the fëanorians) aren’t as-well suited to their pre-darkening moral codes as they might have once been

they need a new one, with contingencies for, like, murder, and all the other new situations they’ll encounter in this new world! the questions of what’s right and wrong have been blown right open, and fed elf is possibly the happiest she’s been in her life. they’re building everything else from first principles, why not this?

and the fëanorian host in aggregate does actually care about morality, even though outsiders never believe that. it’s what separates them from the orcs (in their minds at least); they’re doing everything for a Cause, not for destruction’s sake alone. say what you want about the fëanorians, their problem was never a lack of ideals

she gets people coming in sometimes, wanting to know what the right thing to do in a situation is. either that, or they think she’s wrong about something and want to explain why in depth, which is almost as fun

soon enough, there’s a small shop just off the main streets of lake helevorn called the fëanorian ethics department

(she’s the only one with a shop, but she’s not the only member of the host with Opinions. the guy on the other side of the market district whose system is fairly similar in the broad strokes but completely different in the details is her personal archnemesis)

for most of the first age, fed elf has it pretty good. by her standards, at least, and she’ll happily exposit at length as to why they’re the only ones that matter

the work on the system of ethics never quite stops, but it does slow down. she’s less prescriptivist than most noldor, so she does a lot of observation and interviewing and stuff, and also new things keep happening for her to cover, but she does manage to nail down the basics!

she does consultation, in varying levels of official capacity, but she’ll also just. answer anyone who comes in with a question. or asks one within earshot

it’s mostly noldorin fëanorians she has debates with, the sindar and atani generally prefer to ask her whatever they want to know with minimum fuss, but whenever she gets a real fight going they all join the crowd. watching fed elf argue with people is one of lake helevorn’s municipal spectator sports

she also has conversations with travellers! these usually start when some newcomer is staring in befuddlement at the sign outside her shop and she takes the opportunity to pounce

she asks them detailed questions about their own ethical systems, which she files away for potential future incorporation/argument ammunition. they fairly frequently ask questions of their own, most often variations on ‘you guys seriously have morals?’

sometimes this even turns into a proper ethical debate! these aren’t usually as well-argued or intense as the ones she has with other fëanorians, particularly if she’s not talking to a noldo, but when she meets someone who’s a proper match for her it is the highlight of her year

running the shop does generate a fair bit of paperwork she tends to be too emotionally invested in to deal with properly, so she hires help now and then. one recurring underling is a clumsy perpetually-ill atan who is nevertheless really good with the filing and holds fierce opinions of their own, even if they hide under the table whenever anyone so much as raises their voice

(that atan is me. much less idealised self insert)

like every other elf in the host, fed elf is still under arms. she has a unit, she’s part of the orc patrol rotas, when caranthir needs to do a battle she pulls her broadsword out from under her desk and reports for the muster. east beleriand is just a pretty violent place in general, and her most impassioned arguments frequently shade into all-out duels. east beleriand, where even especially the philosophers will knife you

but just like fëanor promised on tirion upon túna so long ago, she’s built a place where she can be the best version of herself, and she couldn’t be happier (marketplace douche notwithstanding)

like so much of the host, she has big plans for when they topple angband and reclaim the silmarils. it’s just, well

i am not entirely sure what fed elf’s fate is after the fall of thargelion. most likely she died at some point, because so do most of her peers and also because she has an aversion to cutting her losses that’s definitely gonna backfire sooner or later

it’s either that, or she abandons everything she ever worked out to flee over the blue mountains, or she sticks with the host long enough to see all their ideals and dreams burn to ash. out of all of them death is probably her kindest fate

if she does die - she’s definitely a kinslayer at least one time over, she is staying in the halls for a While. the local maiar completely stonewall her every time she tries to argue her way out, she has plenty of time to sit around and think

because yeah, the host’s century-long self-immolation has given her a lot to think about. she was wrong, it turns out, in several important ways, and from the outside she can see how much the ethical system she put her heart and soul into was bent towards destruction

if she ever gets out, it’ll be after a lot of self-reflection, a massive dose of humility, and her accepting her own small-but-not-insignificant role in the nightmare they created

the fëanorians as get let out of the halls of mandos are without fail less violent, more self-aware, and just generally more conscious of their actions than they were when they went in. fed elf is no exception to this

she’s also no exception to the rule that their time in elf afterlife therapy generally fails to lower their volume at all. soon after her rebirth, after some time spent rethinking her personal moral code, fed elf puts out a thesis as to why elwing’s refusal to give up the silmaril was perfectly justifiable under fëanorian ethical mores

this pisses off a measurable proportion of aman’s sapient population. soon the furious letters of rebuke are pouring in nightly

exactly. as. planned

[outofangband]

Maedhros and Nolofinwë take a small stroll around the quieter areas of the Nolofinwëan camp. Author’s notes at the end 

This is relatively early in Maedhros’s recovery. He’s been in the camp long enough that he generally knows where he is and what’s going on but he’s still relearning to walk, hold utensils with his left hand, etc

also wanted to link this reminder here that Maedhros was imprisoned during the rising of the sun and moon 

CW: blanket post Angband warning for aftermath of captivity and torture, implied mobility issues following extended enforced immobility, implied internalized ableism. 

This piece is pretty mild though, just some good uncle Fingolfin for you all 💙

I go into more detail about what exactly causes his mobility issues in other Post Angband pieces but please feel free to ask any questions

masterlist 

Tag list: @much-ado-about-whumping @elarinya-nailo @iwenttomordor @tears-and-lilies

The gardens here were far from the expansive landscapes surrounding the homes of the residing Noldor lords. They were primarily practical, little rows of medicinal herbs and flowers, a small square patch for root vegetables and a few fruit trees. None of this could be a top priority in the chaos of the war but those who were tasked to tending to the garden did so with as much care and effort as they could afford. It was a blessed relief from the horrors that, despite the best efforts of the host, could not be fully kept outside the walls of the camp. They were certainly the most peaceful spot the Noldor here had created and Fingolfin was glad to show them off.

Nolofinwë was careful to support Maitimo without attempting to influence or restrict him. He could tell his nephew was displeased with the fact that he still required an arm to guide him when he tried to walk but eventually, the restlessness and desire to move and to leave his little room in the healing house won over his initial refusal to accept help of this sort. Maitimo agreed to allow Fingolfin to support him for a short walk around the outskirts of the camp. They had chosen the evening hours when most tasks had moved indoors and when the light was not at its brightest, Maitimo was still adjusting to the intensity of the sun. 

The younger elf’s right arm was still heavily bandaged. It was clearly difficult for him to raise it and allow his uncle to hold his elbow while his arm rested against his chest. With his left hand he gripped a cane, the positioning of his fingers  awkward. Nolofinwë swallowed the urge to offer a correction for this. Now was not the time. 

Nelyo’s thin body was wrapped in several layers. Buttons, laces, and similar were still very difficult for him but with the light gown and many shawls he at least seemed comfortable in what he was wearing. Nolofinwë smiled as the two strode out of the healing house, Nelyo blinking slightly despite the twilight. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this, My Lord.” His voice stiff but sincere.  Nolofinwë wasn’t surprised by the overly formal language though he felt a small twinge upon hearing it.

“I am glad to accompany you, Nelyo.” He had struggled for a moment with how to address his nephew, wishing to return the respect but apprehensive that his use of a title would be interpreted as mocking.

They walked through the garden, the air smelling mildly of the herbs and flowers. Their pace was rather slow but not uncomfortably. The cane dragged on the ground every few steps; Maitimo had not yet become used to using it. But the evening air seemed to have a calming effect on him. Nolofinwë did not like to think of the last time that his nephew has spent any period outdoors like this. The weather was cool and Fingolfin was hesitant to have Nelyo out of his room for too long, his health was still vulnerable. But he did not want to force him back inside and so merely lead the way to a table by the gardens. Nelyo took a seat beside him. They were in silence for several minutes. The older elf saw that Maitimo’s left hand, still resting on the cane, was clenched into a fist. He was clearly frustrated with his condition. 

When they stood up, Nelyo was leaning more heavily on his uncle for support, Fingolfin using both hands, one still on his elbow, his other arm on his back. His right leg was starting to drag slightly again. But they made it back to the healing house together, a faint tinge of red to Maedhros’s notched ears as Fingolfin helped him into a chair.

“We will manage longer walks yet, nephew,” Nolofinwë says quietly handing him back his cane which had fallen to the ground upon entering, “Do not become discouraged, understandable though it is.”

author’s note: to be honest this isn’t great writing from me, I just had this image I couldn’t get out of my head and I can’t draw so I wrote it up! It will be edited in the future to be more cohesive! I hope it’s ok to read!

(Note: so I headcanon that Maedhros used a cane for awhile following his rescue. I do have some mobility issues myself due to neuro reasons but I do not currently use any mobility devices. I did some research but I welcome input from anyone who has more direct experience with this.)

I should also note that while Fingolfin has the best of intentions and Maedhros’s difficulty walking is certainly very frustrating to him, Fingolfin doesn’t yet know exactly what’s primarily bothering him.

[arofili]

elves of arda ✹ gondolindrim ✹ headcanon disclaimer ✹ @gondolinweek

          Aikamblotsë was a Noldo of Valinórë, a skilled hunter and archer. He befriended the Ambarussa, the youngest sons of Fëanáro and hunters like himself, and spent much time in their company, especially with Telufinwë. As their relationship progressed, Aikamblotsë attempted to become more intimate with Telufinwë, but his friend was uninterested in such passions and rebuffed his advances. Hurt and fearful that his secret desires would be found out, Aikamblotsë distanced himself from Telufinwë and grew close to another grandson of Finwë: Turukáno Ñolofinwion.           When the Noldor rebelled amidst the Darkening, Aikamblotsë was among the Host of Ñolofinwë, though as he remained by Turukáno’s side he did not participate in the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. He marched across the Helcaraxë, the old resentment against Telufinwë growing ever more bitter in his heart, and even when the Noldor reconciled he harbored a grudge against his once-friend.           In Beleriand, Aikamblotsë took the name Eglamoth and was appointed an advisor to High King Fingolfin, where he worked closely with his colleague Duilin, an archer even more masterful than he. Great love grew between them, and they were wed in the thirty-fifth year of the Sun, at which time they entered the court of their friend Turukáno at Nevrast.           When Turukáno began to order his new kingdom of Ondolindë, he offered positions of lordship to both Egalmoth and Duilin, which they were glad to accept. Upon removing to the isolated valley of Tumladen, Duilin returned to his previous name of Tuilindo, but Egalmoth chose to retain his Sindarin name, the meaning of which he found more poetic than the original Quenya despite its flawed Sindarization.           In Ondolindë, Egalmoth became the Lord of the House of the Heavenly Arch. He sponsored much development in the great markets in the King’s Square, earning unaccounted wealth and arraying his people in a glory of colors. His emblem was the rainbow, which in Valinor had been a subtle symbol of uncommon desires; since now in Beleriand he was free to wed another nér and yet hold high status, he wanted to proclaim his pride in himself and uplift those of his people who felt similarly.           Egalmoth and Tuilindo often hosted archery competitions, and after his husband bested him for the hundredth time in a row, Egalmoth dedicated himself to learning a new weapon in which he was unmatched. He fashioned a curved sword, the only one of its kind among the Noldor, and though the bow remained his preferred weapon he often proved his surpassing skill with his deadly blade. It was with the might of this sword that he slew many giant spiders when he, Glorfindel, and Ecthelion were lost in Nan Dungortheb whilst escorting Aredhel on her journey to Himlad; but though Egalmoth and his companions survived and returned to Ondolindë, Aredhel herself was lost and her fate would not be known for many years.           The folk of the Heavenly Arch were a diverse mix of Sindar and Noldor, as can be exemplified by the Noldorin fisher Aranwë and his Sindarin wife Hithaer, sister of Círdan. Though Hithaer turned back halfway through the journey to Gondolin, followed by Aranwë as soon as he ensured the safety of his son Voronwë with the Encircling Mountains sight, Voronwë himself did arrive in the Hidden Realm and dwelt there for many long years before his king sent him out to sea to beg aid of the Valar. Alone of the mariners entrusted with this mission, Voronwë alone was saved by the grace of Ulmo for the purpose of leading the Man Tuor back to Gondolin with a message for the King.           Another vassal to Egalmoth was Gaurin, a great stonemason who aided in the construction of the City of Stone, cleaving many rocks with gleaming strokes of his mighty glaive. Gaurin had once been known as Narmonodo, a member of Oromë’s Hunt, an archer and wolf-speaker who occasionally hunted with Egalmoth and naturally aligned himself with the Lord of the Heavenly Arch in Beleriand. Gaurin was a great warrior, fighting valiantly in the Fifth Battle, and was slain protecting his friend and lord as Egalmoth retreated from the Nírnaeth Arnœdiad.           When Morgoth’s forces assailed Ondolindë and the city’s fall began, a great part of the folk of the Heavenly Arch were in the walls of the northern gate and endured the main assault. Egalmoth himself was in the south of the city, commanding engines in the wall alongside his husband and the House of the Swallow. As the fighting entered the streets and Tuilindo was slain, Egalmoth saw that they could not keep fighting in the battlements. He gathered his folk and those of his fallen husband, casting away his bow and drawing his curved sword, and led them in a great march upon the streets.           Driven by fury and grief, Egalmoth and his followers defeated every band of enemies they encountered, rescuing many captives and leading them to the Square of the King. When Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, destroyed the barricades protecting the square, Egalmoth was wounded, and knowing he could fight no longer he led many of the Gondolindrim in a retreat through Idril’s secret way.           Egalmoth alone of the Noldorin Lords survived the Fall of Gondolin, and he dwelt at the mouths of Sirion amid much grief and anger for many years. When the sons of Fëanor attacked the Havens, Egalmoth unleashed all his rage upon them and fought bitterly against his corrupted kin, slaying Amrod—once Telufinwë, his friend in their golden youth. As soon as Amrod’s head fell from his body, Egalmoth regretted the fatal blow and stared in horror at the destruction he had wrought, but he had little time for regret as Amras charged forth and slew him in retribution for the death of his twin.           In time Egalmoth would heal from the wounds upon his fëa and be reborn in Valinórë, reuniting with Tuilindo and even reconciling with Telufinwë, but the story of his first life ended upon the bloody banks of the river Sirion where kin slew kin for the third and final time.