#the silmarillion kin

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

self care for : celebrimbor with stim stuff, silver jewelry, and cozy/atmospheric things requested by @hands-of-silver

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[kincalling]

Aredhel Ar-Feiniel aka Írissë from the Silmarillion. Looking for anyone who remembers me but especially Celegorm and Curufin who I was very close with. 18+ only pls, I'm 19. DM me here or like the post pls 🥺

🎧

[yashmel]

Herald of Manwe :)

[tanoraqui]

I don’t get all the Tolkien gender and sexuality discourse—it’s clear that the genders according to Tolkien are:

gets trapped in a very high (or potentially very low) place, gets rescued, loses part of or entire hand

finds loved one who is trapped in very high (or potentially very low) place by singing and their beloved sings back; rescues them despite the impossible odds against this

person singing, dancing, or just kinda vibing in the woods

person who comes to the woods from elsewhere, sees the singer/dancer/viber, and falls in love instantly

everyone else

…and an ideal relationship, romantic, sexual and/or otherwise, is between genders 1 and 2 or 3 and 4. Genders CAN overlap.

[the-werewithal]

I kinda want a Smallville-esque take on the Silmarillion. It's set exclusively back in Aman with the implication that Feanor's gonna start shit aaaany second now. He's working on some very impressive jewels in his workshop, Morgoth's looking pretty suspicious, and is that a giant spider I hear scuttling in the south? But its all fake outs, and it's just seven seasons of the messiest family drama imaginable. Noldor scandals and brewing rifts between them and the Valar. Maglor breaks a lute string and suspects sabotage. Aredhel steals a horse and gets lost in the woods. Feanor spends a really moving episode visiting the garden of his Mother's body. Finwe tries to be a good father and accidentally triggers a huge fight at least once a season. The Ambarussa make problems on purpose. Finrod befriends a wild dog. Nerdanel's latest statue of Maedhros gets its arm smashed off at the elbow. Finarfin collects novelty pens. Galadriel pretends she's above it all while being nothing of the sort. Gandalf stirs trouble. The very last shot is Feanor finishing the silmarils.

It wouldn't be good, but it'd be funny

[sesamenom]

co-high kings galadriel & celeborn

since elrond doesn't want the kingship, galadriel & celeborn are the eldest in middle-earth of the lines of Olwe and Elmo respectively. olwe is older but hes the king of the teleri not specifically doriath sindar so there might be some dispute between which line the sindarin high kingship jumps to, but they very conveniently happen to already be married and so can skip all that and just be twice the headache for sauron

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Just learnt ‘Findis’ is a combination of ‘Finwë’ and ‘Indis’—

they were that sort of sappy parent.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

My Nolofinwë brainrot is back in full force!!!!

Imagine growing up in a household where you KNOW your father loves you but not more than your elder brother who can do now wrong in his eyes even when he ignores your existence and probably hates your mother. Imagine growing up as a PRINCE of the Noldor but always coming in second in the eyes of the people because you’re NOT your brother. You don’t shine as bright as him, you’re not as crafty as him. The work of your hands do not inspire such devotion that even the gods above seek to bless it with their protection.

Imagine knowing that the sole reason for your existence is because your fathers beloved first wife was condemned to an entirety in the Halls of Mandos and thus causing your brilliant elder brother to despise your mother and ignore your existence so wholly it starts fracturing the Noldor. Imagine trying your best to be friends with your brother but him pushing you away at every turn so eventually you decide that if you can’t have his love you’d have his hatred because even hatred is better than the indifference he showed you growing up.

Imagine loving and hating your brother in equal measure, imagine hating him so much for condemning your host to the ice because of your choice to name yourself with an extra Finwë in your name yet mourning him so deeply when you cross the ice just to discover he is already dead and all your hate cannot be aimed at the person responsible because what good is holding on to that hate when he is already dead? What good is that hate when you KNOW you can never have any sort of resolution with him until the breaking of the world? What good is holding on to that hatred when your nephews are holding on by a string and civil war may very well break out due to your beloved and loathed half brother?

Do you think Nolofinwë thought of his much loved and much loathed brother Feanor when he rode out to Angbang to challenge the Dark Lord himself?

Do you think that he thought of how he might meet his end the same way Feanor did? Riding out before the host and getting ambushed by Balrogs? Do you think he thought that this is the one way he can one up his brother? By succeeding when Feanor failed? By wounding the Dark Vala so badly he refused to leave his black walls? Do you think at the end of his life when he saw Morgoths foot coming down on him, when he raised his sword for one last strike, do you think he thought that maybe, just maybe, his deeds of valour may finally make his brother proud? That maybe he lived up to his bright, fiery, spirited brother at last? That although he may not have made the greatest works known to man, but he succeeded where bright Feanor failed?

Do you think that he searched the halls for Feanor? Even knowing he may have been condemned to the void? Or do you think he, in his last moments, cursed Feanor more than he did when crossing the ice because if it weren’t for his oath to him, his children and nephews may still very much be alive?

I cannot begin to describe just how much Nolofinwë lives in my mind rent free. The angst growing up, the resentment that built up in him every single time he gets compared to Feanor, the desperation to get to know him anyways because that’s his brother! His older brother! The one that was supposed to love him but didn’t because of his mother. Gods Nolofinwë makes me feral in a way that not even the Sons of Feanor can.

[fistfuloflightning]

An argument in progress—Salgant and Rog

[lokittystuckinatree]

Me, taking a “which Feanorian are you” quiz, knowing I’m probably going to get Maglor: tehehe lololol

Me, actually getting Maglor: still laughing, but now on the verge of tears

[overlord-of-fantasy]

Feanor just wants to kill...

Feanor: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. Nerdanel: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Feanor: I said within reason, Nerdanel. How about I murder that guy? *points at Fingolfin* Nerdanel: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Feanor: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

[ella-error505]

“Naurind the Formidable was a Noldor elf, the only (bastard) daughter of Celebrimbor, a legendary warrior (forgotten artist) who fought in the Second Age against Sauron and an essential part of the Last Alliance. She died in the Siege of Barad-dûr from her wounds, after defeating Sauron with the help of Elendil. She was the only daughter born into the House of Fëanor, and is remembered for negotiating and obtaining the redemption of her house at the hands of Mandos. Then she refused to leave the Halls for the rest of eternity, because her sword, as legendary as she, Lumnasell, could never see the light of Valinor, because its creation was too dark and dangerous for the Undying Lands.”

(unsolicited OC lore, part II: this time is personal) (all images are from Pinterest, credits to whom it may concern)

[kitcat22]

The steps to her father’s chamber are steep and winding and by the time Luthien reaches the top she thinks she must have been climbing for hours. She doesn’t really mind though, she is in no particular hurry to see her father anyway and she is grateful for the time to think.

The door at the top the landing is made of hard thick wood painted the colour of nightshade. She raises her hand to knock and drops it again. Seeing her father is always an uncomfortable, unhappy experience and she wishes that her mother had just sent one of their servants to speak to him instead. But no Luthien was told to and Luthien is an obedient daughter. She knocks, lightly and first and then two harder knocks but no answer comes. Annoyance stirs inside her but she maintains her smile and knocks harder again until a quiet, melodic voice calls out

‘enter’

Luthien does as instructed and pushes the heavy door open and stepping into the large room. He has been re decorating again she thinks. Candles line the walls casting the room in a faint, golden glow. In the centre of the floor stands a large circular bed with pale curtains surrounding it. There to the right sits her father at his desk. He does not bother to look towards her. She can see his pale hand moving around and realises he is sketching again. He is very talented at it she admits. Many pieces of his artwork hang gracefully from the stone walls. Some depict beautiful places Luthien has never seen before, wide open grasslands and shimmering lakes. Others depict faces with long pointed ears and with hair of molten gold, coal black and white-silver not unlike her father’s own long locks. She wonders if they were people he knew once but doesn’t bother to ask. She doesn’t think he would respond anyway.

‘Father’ she greets him and then feeling gracious,

‘i like the new layout’

There is no response at first and she stands uncomfortable and annoyed until the quiet voice responds.

‘It has been like this for quite some time. I find it dull to stay in one room that never changes. Perhaps it is time i do it again’

Luthien holds herself back from responding ‘maybe you should just leave your room more often’. It would be unkind and unmannerly to speak to her father like that and mother would be displeased.

Her mother is too kind to him, Luthien thinks, too gracious for her own good.

‘ you must not blame him, my beauty’ she would cry ‘your father loves you dearly but ever does his heart bemoan the loss of his kinsmen.’ Luthien thinks Melian gives him too much credit. It has been millennia since the Dark Valar wiped out the Eldar children of Eru and no matter how tragic that may have been, he cannot mourn for them forever.

At least not at the expense of his current family, she thinks darkly.

Grief has left her father a cold and bitter man. Rarely does he smile and rarer yet at Luthien or her siblings.

‘His kinsmen’ she remembers with a startle. That is why she came.

‘Father’ she says ‘there is news. Eol is to be wed’

There was a pause before he spoke back.

‘Eol’ he repeated sounding no more interested than before. ‘Is that so’

‘That is your son’ she thought ‘at least pretend to care’

‘Indeed’ she replied instead with a fake smile ‘but that is not the only news. The maiden he weds is of the eldar’

Now that got his attention.

Her father puts his charcoal down suddenly with a clacking noise and makes no effort to stop it as it rolls onto the floor. he turns to face her for the first time since she entered his room.

‘An elleth?’ He said ‘are you certain?’

‘I have seen her with my own eyes. A fair lady dressed in white clothing, structured and complicated in a way i have not seen before. Dark is her skin and darker her hair. Eol found her lost and confused and injured, when he realised what she was, he lead her further in the forest where it is safer’ The story slides of her tongue quickly, it is not often she has this much of his attention ‘My brother has found himself quite enamoured with her and mother has given them permission to wed. She couldn’t very well say no considering she herself married an ellon’

He did not respond immediately. His silver grey eyes were unblinking and searched Luthien’s face eagerly as if searching for a hint of lies or mockery. His pale hands smudged from his sketching were clutched tightly around the frame of his chair.

‘An elleth’ he repeated ‘your mother said i was the last of my kind, are you telling me that my lady wife is a liar?’

Any strange spark of joy she felt at his attention vanished and she bristled. How dare he imply her mother was a liar. Only he would twist her words in such a way. She spoke again in a more curt, biting tone.

‘Not at all. Mother believes that the girl must have been kept prisoner by the dark lords in Mordor. Poor thing. Otherwise mother would have seen her and told you of her’

‘Of course’ said her father, blank faced again as he pushed back his chair and stood ‘take me to this girl. I should very much like to meet her’

‘The maiden still rests from her weariness, you will meet her at the ceremony. Your presence there is required, I shall send the servants up with appropriate garments for the occasion, until then you may remain here if you so wish’

And with that Luthien turned from him and made her way out of the chambers leaving her father standing alone behind her.

[averagenolofinwean]

Fingon, watching the tapestries of the third kinslaying: Oh. Oh that's- Oh shit- Uhhhh well. Yup that's- that sure is a lot of blood. Oh no. That doesn't look good. Augh. That tall child looks terrible. Yeah that sure is a tragedy. Welp. Oh no. Oh. Oh. That sure aged like fine wine. Well. It is what it is. That's all i'm saying. Can't do anything about it, can we?

*his whole family is staring at him with shock in their eyes*

Finrod: Findekano, what the fuck.

[tanoraqui]

the Kinslaying at Alqualondë is sooo interesting because it is both the Noldor's original sin (everything before that was just family drama and/or dramatic, if binding, rhetoric) and the LEAST of their great crimes. Eonwë literally does not name it when saying why the House of Fëanor has lost their right to the Silmarils; he highlights the other two Kinslayings - "and most of all because of their slaying of Dior and their assault upon the Havens" - but not Alqualondë. It is a BLATANTLY obvious parallel to Morgoth coming in the Darkness, killing Finwë and stealing the Silmarils, for "these [ships] are to us as are the gems of the Noldor; the work of our hearts, whose like we shall not make again." The Noldor did NOT plan to start killing: "[Fëanor] went to the Haven of the Swans and began to man the ships that were anchored there and to take them away by force. But the Teleri withstood him, and cast many of the Noldor into the sea. Then swords were drawn, and a bitter fight was fought upon the ships..." [emphasis mine] It's not clear who made the first killing blow, but actual weapons were clearly drawn only AFTER the Teleri proved themselves willing and able to fight. Did Fëanor mean to simply intimidate them into giving him the ships? Did he think Olwë only refused because he was cowed by the Valar, and would surely give aid with a nod and a wink if he had an excuse? Every single one of these people had grown up in blessed peace, except those who had Journeyed, who still (so far as we know) had no experience of battle. The only person other than Fëanor named as playing a key part in the whole mess is Fingon, "rush[ing] in before they knew rightly the cause of the quarrel", portrayed in all the rest of the text as the closest the Silmarillion gets to an archetypal hero. It was the greatest loss of peace and collective innocence that Aman ever faced, and it was such a MESS.

[thevalleyisjolly]

As an archivist, thinking about the right to be forgotten in a specifically archival context, and the idea that not everyone wants their stories or their records to be made available to anyone/for everyone; that often, what a community judges to be the best preservation for their own histories and culture is not what is beneficial to outsiders, especially outside academics.

More specifically, thinking about this in the context of Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit/The Silmarillion/other Legendarium books as “historical” texts.  Thinking about maybe the “authors” not writing everything down because they understand the power of stories and how the telling of a thing grants a certain power over it, over how it is known and spread, and positions the teller as a figure of authority over what (and who) is depicted.

We already know that Bilbo is an unreliable narrator, that he changes things and leaves things out.  There were a few posts and fics years ago, when the Hobbit movies came out, about Bilbo befriending a young Estel in Rivendell and deliberately leaving that out of his stories at Gandalf/Elrond’s request.  What other things might he have left out, perhaps, out of respect for his friends in the Company and their desire to keep their culture and language private and closed? 

Pengolodh compiling the Annals of Beleriand from which came the greater part of The Silmarillion - but he was in Gondolin for much of the First Age, and would have had to rely on other sources to give an account of the rest of Beleriand.  Who did he talk to?  What might they have said and not said, and what might they have requested he include or keep out? 

Anyways, the Legendarium as an archive, something actively created and shaped by the different people in and around it, who both added things and left things out unintentionally or by design or on request.