#three houses of the edain

[sesamenom]

Family Tree Version 3, now featuring dwarves, hobbits, and the intricacies of however ainur are related!

Double lines on each side of a line break are used where lines overlap (---ll | ll---). Dashed lines indicate unknown numbers of generations, and dotted lines are for adoption. Grey text is used for alternative/old draft versions and assumed relationships (such as sticking oropher in with the sons of galadhon, or putting one of the dunedain as the tooks' fairy ancestor).

Version 2 here

[tenth-sentence]

But few men on the Three Houses of the Edain would give ear to him, not even were they brought to the torment of Angband.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #2

Strange Candy

kinktober day two | aphrodisiac | 18+, cw: intoxicated sex (all consensual), female reader. both of them hella sassy, book-ish!thran because no angst in my house. this is very silly, just like the author. don't eat funny mushrooms you find in the forest! | wc 3,7k | want more kinktober? click here |

“Strange indeed.” Said the King thoughtfully. The group of hunters who'd led him to the newfound development traded a long look. Crouching down, the King's majesty eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead as he studied the newfound addition to his great Elven forest. “And the beasts have returned seemingly unharmed, you say?”

“Yes, my Lord. The bears had retreated into a den and so did the foxes, emerging approximately three days afterwards. All seemed in good health and very hungry.” The Silvan hunter replied.

“Then these must be harmless.” Deduced the King, taking out a thin blade to poke at a dense cluster of brightly coloured fungus.

At least, he guessed it was a fungus. Upending one cluster, he found no roots. The flesh of the mushroom was white and fragrant, pleasantly earthy and rich, with subtle floral undertones that made his mouth water slightly. The smell intensified tenfold upon cutting the mushroom down the middle. The King brought it closer to his nose, carefully scenting for any bitterness or rot.

“My Lord...” A concerned Feren piped up from his spot behind the King.

You offered the Captain a glance full of genuine compassion, without a doubt considering his job to be the most complicated and tedious in the whole of Thranduil's kingdom. Minding Greenwood's fiery monarch was not for the faint-hearted.

“Surely you are not thinking of putting it in your mouth?” You added a dash of sarcasm into your question, equally concerned.

You were sassed right back, eyeroll audible. “It is a mushroom, where else would I put it?” Thranduil straightened up, holding the newfound addition to the flora of the forest impaled on his knife. As soon as his eyes zeroed on you, you gulped. Thranduil gave you a nasty little grin. “What is the worst that could happen? I have the best healers of my realm at my disposal.”

Feren's fingers twitched, a tell-tale sign of his withering self-restraint. You sighed and contemplated the best time to begin backing away.

Thranduil simply raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Worry not, the Kingdom has forgotten of your and Feren's...” Elegant pause, Feren's sigh. “Accident.”

“'twas no accident,” you said defensively. “You gave us your Ada's moonshine to see if it was still good. On purpose.”

Thranduil shrugged as the mushroom was evenly divided into two parts with the help of his knife. A perfect picture of innocence, he held up the treat in his palm, grey eyes sparkling.

“I am NOT doing it, my Lord!” Exploded Feren, and gave into his urge to take a step back. He, more than anyone, knew how insistent Thranduil could get. A seven-thousand year old elf giving huge puppy eyes! And it worked! The Captain shielded his own face with his palm. “Throw me in the dungeons for a fortnight, I care not!”

Contrary to your expectations, Thranduil simply rolled his eyes, and swiftly stuck one part of the colourful fungus in his mouth. Everyone gasped, including you, but the old Elvenking remained completely unbothered.

“Hm,” he blinked after a second. “That is not bad.”

Waves of impending doom washed over you with each contemplative movement of Thranduil's jaws. Looking first to the left, and then to the right, you found no immediate means exit of the situation. It was you, the resident human, and the tree behind you, which your King had no problem with crowding you against. Not that he moved or anything. He was just... Large. And very handsome. And spectacular at rounding his shiny, bottomless eyes with great purpose.

“We must know if this fungus is harmful to Edain,” he said, honey-sweet. You hated that he was right. “According to hunters, there is an abundance of it, and, knowing how curious you Edain are...”

“Ugh!” You shook your head. “Just give me the mushroom. If I die, I will haunt your halls for all eternity.” Obediently and with no small worry, you snatched the piece and stuck it in your mouth, chewing quickly, not even taking note of the taste.

Thranduil's last experiment that involved you and Feren still fresh on your mind, you turned back towards the Halls before you'd even finished chewing. You'd rather be in the privacy of your rooms least intoxication has you do something embarrassing... Again. Thankfully, the King conceded, and after giving the hunters a command to gather more of this mystery fungus, the party set out back home.

It was Feren's turn to offer you fleeting looks of compassion. You quietly smiled back, not feeling anything out of sorts. The ride back was pleasantly uneventful. Not a creature was stirring: even the ever-present spiders were absent in their bothersome scuttling.

Too smug for his own good, Thranduil entered his halls with a spring in his step. “The haunting of halls of Greenwood has been postponed indefinitely, I see,” he said in passing as he shrugged off his outer travel robes. A maid immediately offered him a silver robe of heavy satin which he politely declined. “Nay. The discovery has warmed me plenty.”

You noticed that yes, the weather has turned rather warm indeed and bowed before departing back to your daily business. Mid-way through your chores, a thin, translucent sheen of sweat glistened on your brow as you silently cursed the Vala responsible for such unusually pleasant weather. The Halls had already began to prepare for a long winter with covering unnecessary exits and patching up drafty areas.

What wouldn't you give for a gulp of fresh, cold air! Chores forgotten, you hurried to the nearest balcony. There was one not frequently visited by Elves as it was hidden behind a clever alcove; stepping aside and squeezing through the narrow opening, you sighed happily and deeply as your clammy skin finally felt crisp late night air.

Your shoulders dropped as you exhaled, finally shaking off some of that uncomfortable heat. A tranquil scene of swaying treetops and budding stars over a darkening sky emphasized the calamity of your solitude.

“Hm.”

“My Lord,” you greeted without turning, familiar with the timbre of voice and soft swishing of expensive fabric coming from behind you.

Thranduil's profile appeared within your field of view as he posted up next to you and demurely placed a hand over the stone railing of the balcony. “I was unaware someone had found the secret entrance to my private balcony.”

“Oh,” you froze. “I apologize... I was simply...”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I take no offense. Indeed, it was quite clever. Even keen Elven eyes miss the opening behind the alcove.” Sans outer robe and clad in a simple but rich ensemble of sateen shirt and velvet breeches, it became evident you'd caught the King in a private moment of relaxation. His brow, usually tinted with concern with kingdom, was pleasantly warm.

You swallowed, looking away. He was a beauty even among his own kin, and like this - relaxed and comfortable - bordered on irresistible. A flash of heat spread through your body at the realisation. It took no small effort to squash these thoughts and steer them towards some semblance of propriety.

“The Valar have blessed us with good weather this autumn, my Lord. I was doing my chores and nearly felt faint from the heat.” You said, noticing Thranduil's eyebrows rise. “And the construction of your halls is incredible! Not a single drafty corner.”

“Heated, you say?” He interrupted suddenly, turning to face you fully. Etiquette (whenever you remembered it) dictated you should, too, and you two faced each other. Thranduil radiated curiosity, eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks and the warmth crawling down the neckline of your clothes. “Strange.”

“What is, my Lord?”

“I have said the same thing to Galion but he gave me a very pointed look and gestured towards Lady Anariel, who had been complaining to her maid about not lighting a fire in a timely manner.”

You frowned, too. The Lady Anariel was as Northern as Elves come and was fairly tolerant of wintery weather. When others wore furs, she got by with an outer dress of wool and, perhaps, a pair of gloves.

“Do you feel... Strange, my Lord?” You had a slight suspicion. Just a teeny-tiny one, that boiled down to those Eru-forsaken mushrooms.

In response you received an impish sort of shrug. “Not necessarily so. Do you?”

Your face blanched. Aside from suddenly finding him irresistible and feeling a little hot under the collar, nothing was amiss. But the longer you lingered on those two thoughts, the stronger they became. It was as if you were an adolescent again: barely any impulse control and all feeling.

‘twas a delicate situation. You could speak to a healer, of course, or let the strange circumstance run it's course. If it even could do that. Thoughts growing jumbled by the second, you said the only clear thing on your mind.

“Those cursed mushrooms.”

Thranduil was unperturbed. “I do not believe they are cursed. Potent, yes, but not cursed.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “... You too?”

He sighed. “I came out here in hopes of clearing my head from this fog of lust.” As you prepared to mutter- what, exactly? Apologies? - Thranduil's finger reached out for tour face to trace the curve of your jaw. “And in the process I found something much more exciting.”

Your bottom lip trembled. Such a simple gesture felt heavenly. Wherever his skin came in contact with yours, the heaviness receded briefly. Your breath caught in your chest as your heart picked up a hare's pace.

“Am I being propositioned?” You wished to say to yourself but in the fog, managed to sputter out loud.

“We could help each other out...” The King, unfurled to his full height and radiating heat equal to that you felt on the inside, grinned a crooked grin. It sat youthfully on his timeless features, just the right amount of flirtatious and reassuring.

You pretended to think about it. No, you really did, out of concern for your dignity. Throwing yourself onto the King was simply uncouth. Such was your next course of action, but the necessary amount of time had passed and the need, having been brought to the forefront or your mind, took hold of your sense. Slowly, you leaned into the touch and brought your hands to Thranduil's forearm, tilting his fingers to your mouth. Hot breath caused them to twitch.

“Does this answer your question?” You tilted your head, lips brushing against the multitude of rings he wore on his persona. It was most exhilarating to see his pupils widen and his mouth tremble.

Adam's apple bobbing, Thranduil swallowed. “No.” And smirked, the stunning bastard. “I need a clear, straightforward statement.”

You sighed, feigning annoyance. “I enthusiastically consent to having uncouth, untoward and potentially nasty things being done to my body by my Lord and King...”

You did not even get to finish. In a flash, Thranduil's hands had encircled your face and he bent himself over you, pushing your body into the balcony as he devoured your mouth with his. There was no grace and no finesse; something heavy and hard poking your stomach showed you just how much self-control your King had.

Seconds ago, you'd been having a perfectly normal conversation and now you found yourself airborne, having been unceremoniously picked up by the tall Elf and carried towards his chambers like the most coveted spoil of war while he devoured your mouth. You hummed into the kiss and responded with a groan, tearing the back lacing of your clothes clean off.

Your back connected with the mattress of his bed. Blinking at the rapid change of pace and scenery, you moaned out in frustration regarding your ruined clothes.

“I will commission more for you,” he said carelessly, throwing his own shirt Mordor knows where. His bare chest, chiseled with lithe muscle and pale as fresh milk, captivated your attention.

Previously having contended yourself with the occasional glance at the tiny window of bare skin where the sides of his robes met, you used your newfound opportunity to drink yourself full of Thranduil's fair skin. It felt as soft as it looked when he laid upon you, the weight of his body offering a delicious momentary reprieve from the tension building up in your muscles. Gossamer hair shielded you from the outside world as he leaned in towards your mouth again, this time capturing yours in a sensual dance of tongue and teeth.

A nimble hand took care of your bottoms, sliding inside your underwear as slick and cunning as a snake, to cup your mound. Thranduil groaned into the kiss, finding you soaked and willing, fingering the cleft of your lower lips with practiced gentle moves. The tenderness of it drove you crazy. Your need flared as a wall of standstill fire and you were surprised you did hadn't noticed it earlier. If the pulse in your cunt was anything to go by, you would come undone the very moment your King would finally allow you to feel full.

He was fairly content with sucking your soul out through your mouth and mapping the fat outer lips of your cunt. Never quite breaching and wholly avoiding your throbbing pearl, Thranduil simply basked in the amount of sticky juice your cunt was capable of producing.

The first loud moan of the night broke free if your lips and it was one of frustration.

Thranduil smiled into the kiss, your teeth clashing together. “What is it, mm?” He queried in-between wet pecks.

“I want to come.” You whined.

He chuckled. “And what's in it for me?”

Thankfully, your eyes were closed and he did not see your eyeroll. “You'll get to come, too?” Cringing at how lame it sounded, you were nonetheless powerless beneath him and overwhelmed from your desire.

“I prefer to play with my food.” He grinned a predator's smile, all shiny teeth and lidded eyes, but tugged down on your bottoms nonetheless. “Try harder.”

That became difficult as you were now bare; shivering in your King's arms, you cracked open a hazy eye to see him settle himself closer to your dripping center. It captivated him. Sliding two fingers along your lips, your eyes closed and head fell back as every nerve in your body came alight. Rewarded by a long moan, Thranduil gathered ample amount of moisture on his fingers and brushed over your quivering entrance.

Your back arched as he plunged them deeply within your aching cunt. The sticky noise it made was positively scandalous.

“I will-ah! forgive you for gathering the entire -ahh! King's guard to look at Feren and I!” You managed to form a quasi-coherent sentence through the moans and gasps spilling from your lips and were rather proud of yourself for it.

Thranduil's laugh echoed in the room as it did in his chest, a pleasant rumble vibrating through your core. “Whether Galion forgives you two for barking at him remains to be seen.”

Genuine amusement briefly overshadowed your shame at the situation of the past and at your own current neediness. The combination of emotion startled a laugh out of you, causing your core to clench around Thranduil's fingers and coat them in your wetness. He groaned low in his throat and rubbed your inner walls, reveling in the resulting moan. It did nothing to bring you closer to the peak.

“Sadist!” You accused and attempted to grind down on his hand, fisting the crumpled sheets.

“Slander!” He punctuated the rebuttal with an expert curl of his fingers. You arched. He smirked. “You should learn patience.”

There was no strength in your mind to formulate another witty comeback. Sensation, low and insistent, built up in the pit of your belly, an ache so sweet and tender you were sure it would be any second that you'd burst with it. Every pore on your skin open and receptive to touch, even the slide of silk sheets as your body bent with pleasure was overwhelming. You panted wetly through parted lips as a third finger joined in, the stretch of it making your eyes roll back into your head.

Thranduil would kill you. You were sure of it now. He would end you with a blinding smile and clever fingers never ceasing to move within you, the movement just shy of where you needed him most.

“Mercy!” You moaned. “Mercy, my King!”

You should have known his idea of it would be no less torturous than the ‘kindness’ that led you to your current place writhing atop his bed. Slowly, his tongue traced a path around your outer lips before dipping inside; it was hot and wet, like a summer storm, when it connected with your engorged clit and flicked it from root to tip. Electric feel of sensation pierced your body in a lightning bolt as your leg muscles seized. The King gave a pleased rumble and went for seconds and thirds, effortlessly holding your thighs open with one strong, long arm, palm digging into the soft meat.

Even the pain of it echoed with pleasure.

While the need within your loins kept steadily climbing with no end in sight, your King treated himself to a leisurely late night snack. His tongue delved in and out of your cunt, lapping up the waterfall of arousal. You would have been mortified, really, for the mess had you glued stuck to his face, your hips attempting to follow his mouth in circles.

Coupled with the digits slowly but surely stretching the entrance to your channel, brushing over the sensitive fornix, you knew the night would be long. Dark, but not cold. Hazy.

“Ngh!” You articulated through gritted teeth, feeling him pull away from a particularly sensitive spot in favour of sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh. Thranduil followed a path only he himself knew, marking your flesh with pulling, precise bites that left discoloured spot damp with spit. They pleasantly ached.

Over your stomach and at the underside of your bottom rib. The sides and bottoms of your breasts, all the way up at the root of your nipples. He took each one in into his mouth, suckling on it like a hungry babe, before releasing them with a wet pop just blow a gentle breath onto the pebbled nubs. Through parted lashes, you watched him, aptly fascinated by the lack of colour in his eyes, pupils blown wide and deep with lust.

You tasted your cunt on his tongue as he made way back up. Risking a glance downward, you saw Thranduil's cock hard, flushed and heavy, hanging out of his breeches. He hadn't bothered with removing them and that single detail had you nearly undone. How the King himself could not wait to he inside of you!

An understanding of his previous games had come too, for he was rather proportional everywhere. Just the slide of his weeping tip against your bruised thigh invoked a shudder in you, back arching. You presented yourself to your best ability, eyes shining with pleading as he rested his forehead against yours.

Thranduil held himself above you, weight on his elbows, as his cock nosed at your sopping entrance. Immediately, it tried to suck him in, coaxing his lips to bend into a smirk. Such proximity was putting your sensibility directly into negatives. With a wild look mirrored in his own darkened pupils, you petulantly stuck out your bottom lip and panted with all the sarcasm that you could muster:

“we'll get to the good part... About tomorrow?” You wished to add more, something about him being old, but that remark and many more drowned in the absolute extasy flooding your body as he slid into your cunt in one single smooth stroke. “Aah...” Left your lips instead, and with it, any remaining oxygen departed from your lungs as well.

“Mouthy,” Thranduil remarked, sounding unfairly put together for someone who's mouth was as slippery as wet stone and cheeks brighter than a ripe beetroot.

You forgave him then and there. In awe, you watched him give you another one of his impish grins and nudge at that spot deeply within you. And he did it all over again, plush mouth releasing the sweetest, quietest of moans as he did so. Time got lost in the tug of war tour cunt played with his cock; like this, your release was imminent and fast approaching.

You grabbed Thranduil's arms, rubbed his shoulders as your legs wound up around his narrow waist while he contentedly and systematically unraveled you apart with rapid, smooth snaps of his hips. For a while, there was nothing in the room but the two of you and the lewd noises of damp skin slapping against skin. Clutching harder, you felt yourself tighten around his girth. Each measured stroke abused your engorged clit, heavy sac adding extra sensation on your perineum.

A low, feral groan joined the thrilling cacophony of sex. Thranduil fucked you through your first orgasm with gritted teeth, barely slowing with the new resistance of your cunt attempting to milk him for his worth. Hair hanging over your faces like a curtain, he claimed your lips in a searing kiss as you whimpered with overstimulation. Evenly, his thrusts became shallow, grinding.

Having become a acquainted with your bearings somewhat, you made a confused noise. The King just grinned. His palm connected firmly with the side of your hip as you squealed. He withdrew.

“Present yourself to your King.” He ordered, both smug and slightly breathless, helping you along onto all fours.

You chuffed into the damp bedding and obeyed, arching your back at a sinful curve. Within seconds, you were once again blissfully full.

a/n: I am way too horny of a person to write anything LACE compliant. Or is that my commitment issues talking? Anyway, ELVES FUCK SEVERELY! At least this October. mwah 💋

I once ate like 12 grams of cubensis and was a cat for 3 hours, so Feren barking at Galion with the help of some 3k+ year old mushroom infused moonshine isn't that far-fetched.

[melestasflight]

I’m a Russingon girlie at heart and will never miss an opportunity to read into the romanticism of Maedhros’ rescue from Thangorodrim: ancient friends/lovers coming back together, Fingon finding compassion despite betrayal, all that good tear-jerker stuff.

But what makes Fingon’s heroism massive to me has nothing to do with the personal and everything to do with the politics at Mithrim. The fact that had he not gone to Thangorodrim, the Noldor in Beleriand would find themselves at literal war against each other.

This little passage from the Silm really deserves a lot more attention:

No love was there in the hearts of those that followed Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor, for the agony of those that endured the crossing of the Ice had been great, and Fingolfin held the sons the accomplices of their father. Then there was peril of strife between the hosts

Years later, when Fingon decides to look for Maedhros, the conflict between the hosts comes back as a primary reason behind his decision:

Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, before their Enemy should be ready for war

This makes me conclude that the three years between Fingolfin’s arrival at Mitrhim (FA 2) to Fingon’s rescue mission (FA 5) must have been a continuous civil crisis. The hosts are in close proximity, a single lake dividing them, Fingolfin on one side, Maglor on the other, and for three years they cannot find a compromise. This crisis must have gotten pretty bad for someone to decide that braving Thangorodrim might be worth it.

And to me, this is Fingon's greatest contribution he ever made, not his battles, not his chasing of dragons, but preventing civil war among his people.

Of all the children of Finwë he is justly most renowned...

Yes, indeed, he is. Because without Fingon’s deed, there would be no victories for the Noldor, no Long Peace, no meeting of the Edain and Eldar. They would have fought each other endlessly until one group obliterated the other, or alternatively, Morgoth used this division (as the book seems to imply) to destroy them all swiftly. 

Fingon effectively accomplishes what Fingolfin and Fëanor never managed: peace, at least for a good while. Maedhros of course contributes in return by giving up the crown. He meets Fingon halfway, and they stay true to this alliance until Fingon’s death. They cross an impossible bridge no matter how you read their relationship. 

I’ll never tire of it. Ever.

[anghraine]

I've seen some posts lately assuming that the Rohirrim are basically descendants of Hadorians who didn't go to Númenor. It's an understandable assumption because that is an in-story belief about the Rohirrim. However, Tolkien repeatedly suggests this is essentially a Gondorian myth.

They're not lying—by the WOTR, they genuinely believe it's correct—but it isn't true. In "Of Dwarves and Men," Tolkien wrote (c. 1969) that Gondorians "attributed to them [the Rohirrim] actual direct descent from the Folk of Hador in the First Age." Furthermore, he said:

This was a general belief in Gondor at that time [the War of the Ring], and was held to explain (to the comfort of Númenórean pride) the surrender of so large a part of the Kingdom to the people of Eorl.

In a footnote, he adds that the Rohirrim had no ancestral traditions or cultural memories of the wars of Beleriand at all. They don't really have any reason to care about this version of their history, though they accept it as it contributes to the strength of their alliance with Gondor.

Then there's a marginal note about the footnote (because this is Tolkien) that says this belief in an ancient Edainic kinship with Men of Middle-earth could have actually been true of some of the Men the Númenóreans found when they came back to Middle-earth, but not of the Rohirrim specifically. The Rohirrim may be similar to the Hadorians in appearance and temper, but they are at most related to the larger group of First Age Men that all the Edain had originated from and not any of the Three Houses in particular.

This "Edainic" concept of the Rohirrim's history is also thrown into doubt in Lord of the Rings itself, right before their first appearance, when Aragorn explains to Legolas and Gimli:

'they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years ... They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood...'

You know who are actually kin to the Edain, though?

Also it must be said that 'unfriendliness' to Númenóreans and their allies was not always due to the Shadow, but in later days to the actions of the Númenóreans themselves. Thus many of the forest-dwellers of the shorelands south of the Ered Luin, especially in Minhiriath, were as later historians recognized the kin of the Folk of Haleth; but they became bitter enemies of the Númenóreans because of their ruthless treatment and their devastation of the forests, and this hatred remained unappeased in their descendants, causing them to join with any enemies of Númenor. In the Third Age their survivors were the people known in Rohan as the Dunlendings.

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

The Case of Erestor Half-elven

It’s been a hot minute since my last fandom meta, but this one I accidentally stumbled upon gathering notes for—would you believe it—a Glorfindel meta I intended to write. Man, I’m not even going to question the process, so let’s just get right on to it!

I like to joke around that there are only six instances when Erestor was mentioned in the entire legendarium, and by this I mean in The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and The Silmarillion (in which he does not even appear in the latter two). 

But let’s talk about the early draft of him that is often referenced in fandom. If one extends the search, in The Return of Shadow, which details the writing process of what ultimately would be The Fellowship of the Ring, Erestor does get a mention, and is described as follows:

“There were three counsellors of Elrond’s own household: Erestor his kinsman (a man of the same half-elvish folk known as the children of Lúthien), and beside him two elflords of Rivendell.” -- In the House of Elrond, The Return of Shadow 

By the final version of The Lord of the Rings, however, there is no more reference to Erestor as Half-elven. The final published version goes:

"Beside Glorfindel there were several other counsellors of Elrond's household, of whom Erestor was the chief..." -- The Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

By this final version of the story, the Half-elven trait no longer made sense for Erestor, and was replaced instead by him being Elrond's chief counsellor. 

The nature of Half-elves

Tolkien acknowledges three unions of Elves and Men:

“There were three unions of the Eldar and the Edain: Lúthien and Beren; Idril and Tuor; Arwen and Aragorn. By the last the long-sundered branches of the Half-elven were reunited and their line was restored.” –Appendix A, Return of the King

One of the later themes Tolkien came up with surrounding the Half-elven line (which likely did not yet exist at the early stages of the story when he was first forming the fellowship) was how they united and reunited all the houses of the Eldar and the Edain. Beren was a descendant of the three houses of the Edain—the Houses of Bëor, Haleth, and Hador—while Lúthien was the daughter of a Sinda (Teleri) and a Maia. Idril was the daughter of a Ñoldo and a Vanya. Lúthien and Beren had Dior, who then had a daughter, Elwing, who wed Eärendil, the son of Idril and Tuor. Elwing and Eärendil then had Elros and Elrond, and the line was separated for many generations when Elros chose to be counted among Men, and Elrond among Elves. The two lines were reunited with the marriage of Aragorn and Arwen.

One important detail here is that before the “Choice of the Half-elves” that was later gifted to Eärendil, Elwing, and their children, the children born out of an Elf-Man union led lives akin to Men. Dior was able to rule Doriath at age 33, and Eärendil and Elwing married at 22. These, as we know, would have been too young for Elves, given:

“Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in the body like to mortals of no more than seven years. Not until their fiftieth year did the Eldar attain the stature and shape in which their lives would afterwards endure, and for some a hundred years would pass before they were full-grown.” -- Laws and Customs of the Eldar, Morgoth’s Ring

and

“The Eldar wedded for the most part in their youth and soon after their fiftieth year […] Those who would afterwards become wedded might choose one another early in youth, even as children (and indeed this happened often in days of peace); but unless they desired soon to be married and were of fitting age, the betrothal awaited the judgment of the parents of either party.” -- Laws and Customs of the Eldar, Morgoth’s Ring

After the events of the War of the Wrath, Eärendil, Elwing, and their sons Elrond and Elros, for their deeds in the war, were gifted with the choice to be counted either among the Eldar or the Edain. Eärendil, Elwing, and Elrond chose to be counted among Elves, and the choice continued on to Elrond’s children: Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir. Elros chose to be counted among Men, but in his case, the choice no longer extended to his descendants; every descendant of Elros was mortal. 

The only thing I can conclude for why Elros’ line did not get to choose is because the Gift of Ilúvatar—that is, a death that transcends the world of Arda—trumps all other gifts. It is a blessing that followed the line of Elros—never mind that the latter Númenóreans did not all agree that this was a blessing at all.

A similar sentiment can be found in earlier versions of the Quenta Silmarillion, where Manwë said to Eärendil:

"Now all those who have the blood of mortal Men, in whatever part, great or small, are mortal, unless other doom be granted to them; but in this matter the power of doom is given to me." -- Quenta Silmarillion, The Lost Road and Other Writings

Although this was no longer included in the published Silmarillion, Christopher Tolkien still considered this in judging that Dior, son of Beren and Lúthien, would have been mortal, regardless of whether Lúthien was Elf or mortal when she begetted him.

Bonus extra: The fourth case of Elf-Man union

Despite the excerpt from Appendix A, there is another case of Elf-Man union that we know: Mithrellas and Imrazôr. This was alluded to in Return of the King when describing Prince Imrahil: 

“...and with him went the Prince of Dol Amroth in his shining mail. For he and his knights still held themselves like lords in whom the race of Númenor ran true. Men that saw them whispered saying: ‘Belike the old tales speak well; there is Elvish blood in the veins of that folk, for the people of Nimrodel dwelt in that land once long ago.’” The Siege of Gondor, Return of the King

Although it seems as though this was only a rumor among Men, in the wider History of Middle-earth, Mithrellas is indeed mentioned to have been the spouse of Imrazôr who bore him children, of whom Galador was the ancestor of the princes of Dol Amroth. Of their line, it was said:

“But though Mithrellas was of the lesser silvan race (and not of the High Elves or the Grey) it was ever held that the house and kin of the Lords of Dol Amroth were noble by blood, as they were fair of face and mind.” The Heirs of Elendil, The Peoples of Middle-earth

The princes of Dol Amroth, of course, are mortal, and this does not contradict anything that has already been established. It is easy to imagine how, in a world where Elves and Men co-exist, there could be many other undocumented cases throughout the years. But what we do know is that no other Half-elf outside of Eärendil’s line would have led a long life by choosing the path of Elves. Therefore, if there were any other Half-elves in the Council of Elrond, aside from Elrond himself, they would have been not much older than Aragorn or Boromir. 

Erestor’s age and role in Rivendell

We now return to Erestor. One of the clearest things in “The Council of Elrond” is the Elves’ reluctance to take the One Ring. Erestor is one of the most vocal about this, and this is one of my favorite themes to explore about his character in the Third Age.

Given the character's history in Tolkien's drafts, Erestor's narrative role seems to have always been to drive the Council of Elrond to its conclusion. Where people strayed from the topic (which then allowed Tolkien to expound more for world-building), Erestor's purpose even in early drafts was to bring everyone back to the task at hand. In addition to this though, thematically, I think Erestor eventually also represented the fading of the Elves. He is most known for his quick suggestion to give the Ring to Tom Bombadil. This tells us:

The Elves do not want anything to do with the Ring anymore, a sentiment that would be especially potent for one who was there during the Last Alliance, in the Second Age when Sauron was at the peak of his power; and 

The time of the Elves is ending, and there is little more they can give to Middle-earth.

Granted, Legolas remained a member of the Fellowship and thus represented the Elves, but by Elven standards, Legolas was young, and did not have the weariness that someone older would have. Erestor reads to me as someone older, even older in spirit in comparison to Glorfindel. 

‘We know not for certain,’ answered Elrond sadly. ‘Some hope that the Three Rings, which Sauron has never touched, would then become free, and their rulers might heal the hurts of the world that he has wrought. But maybe when the One has gone, the Three will fail, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief.’ ‘Yet all the Elves are willing to endure this chance,’ said Glorfindel, ‘if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be taken away for ever.’ ‘Thus we return once more to the destroying of the Ring,’ said Erestor, ‘and yet we come no nearer. What strength have we for the finding of the fire in which it was made? That is the path of despair. Of folly, I would say, if the long wisdom of Elrond did not forbid me.’ -- The Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring

Erestor has a weariness to him that is even notable especially beside Glorfindel's vitality, whom we know was reborn in Aman as though young again, with "the primitive innocence and grace of the Eldar" (Peoples of Middle-earth). Glorfindel, however, is a special case even among all Elves in the Third Age, while Erestor arguably would have been more representative of them, at least of the ones that remained in Middle-earth.

Another case to be made about Erestor being one of the oldest in Rivendell is by virtue of his status as chief among Elrond’s counsellors. Considering the population of Elves in Rivendell, this is no small feat. As Gandalf told Frodo:

‘Here in Rivendell there live still some of [Sauron’s] chief foes: the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they have great power. [...] Indeed there is power in Rivendell to withstand the might of Mordor, for a while: and elsewhere other powers still dwell.’ -- Many Meetings, The Fellowship of the Ring

So what is he?

The last quote about the Elf-lords of Rivendell is one of the main reasons why I say Erestor is likely of the Ñoldorin Calaquendi. This makes the most sense given his position in Elrond’s household and given the sorts of Elves that dwell there. Fortunately, this still gives us many options: he could be an Elf from Gondolin, from Nargothrond, even among one of the many houses of the Fëanoryn. 

Could he have been any other kind of Elf? Sure! I even particularly have a soft spot for Erestor being Sindarin, but again, given his position, I would guess one of the older lines. Doriath, in particular, would make sense. Given how Elves seem to be “ranked” by wisdom defined by their exposure to the Valar and the rest of the Ainur, Doriath, with Melian’s influence, would have been a special kind of place. 

Could Erestor still be Half-elven? My easiest answer would be that it’s unlikely. But! Do not despair! With fiction, really anything is possible. Erestor could be an exceptional Half-elf and that is why he is chief counsellor. He could still be a kindred of Elrond’s by some obscure line, such as an unrecorded child in the line of Beren and Lúthien, or as a popular fanon, either Eluréd or Elurín survived. Or he could just be the son of some other Elf and Man. But whatever version it is, Erestor Half-elven would not have had the choice of the Half-elves, and so likely would not have been alive beyond the lifetime of a Númenórean.

[violetumbrellalover]

⚔️Three Houses of Edain⚔️

A little over three centuries after the Noldor had returned to Middle-earth, Finrod discovered a new people in the glens of the Blue Mountains. These were Men out of the distant East of Middle-earth, the first of their kind to be seen in Beleriand. These Men crossed the mountains as three distinct peoples, but each of these peoples became allies of the Elves in the Wars of Beleriand. The name Edain became associated with these friends of the Elves, and their leaders gave rise to three houses: those of Bëor, Haleth and Hador.

House of Bëor

Bëor was the first of Men to cross the Blue Mountains into Beleriand, and his house is thus considered the first of the houses of the Edain. Bëor himself became a vassal of Finrod, and many of his descendants also served the Elves. Later generations of this house held the land of Dorthonion, until it was lost to Morgoth in the Dagor Bragollach. The greatest of the heroes of the House of Bëor was Beren, who escaped from Dorthonion and captured a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown.

House of Haleth

The people known as the Haladin spoke their own language, alien to that of the other Edain. They were the second house of Men to cross the Mountains, and settled for a while in the southern part of Dor Caranthir. Faced with a sudden assault by Orcs, they united under a leader named Haldad, but he was slain defending his people. His daughter Haleth, from whom this house took its name, led the survivors into the west, until they reached the Forest of Brethil, where they settled. This house of the Edain is noted for their friendship with the Drúedain, with whom they shared their forest home.

House of Hador

The Third House of the Edain derived from the followers of Marach, who led his people across the Blue Mountains soon after the other houses. The Men of this House built a strong alliance with Fingolfin's people in Hithlum. Indeed, Marach's great-great-grandson Hador was made Lord of Dor-lómin by the High King of the Noldor, thus giving his name to this renowned House. Among Hador's famous descendants were Húrin and Huor, Túrin and Tuor, and Eärendil the Mariner.

“Do you forget to whom you speak? Such things you spoke long ago to our fathers; but we escaped from your shadow. And now we have knowledge of you, for we have looked on the faces that have seen the Light, and heard the voices that have spoken with Manwe."

~ Húrin Thalion in The Children of Húrin, "The Words of Húrin and Morgoth"

[redreyenotarget]

Haleth🗡️

Haleth was the daughter of Haldad, leader of the Haladin (or Halethrim), one of the Three Houses of the Edain..

[swanmaids]

thank you @ethanray for letting me write for your gorgeous @fall-for-tolkien piece young elwing with birds! i hope you like this short drabble sequence. read it on ao3 here.

~

The daughter of Nimloth the White and Dior Eluchíl the Beautiful is born at night under a blaze of stars shining against the silver waters of the Lanthir Lamath. Star-Spray, her mother names her as she rests, for the beauty of it as it lights up her newborn face, each tiny eyelash picked out perfectly in the light. Eyes closed, she curls into her mother’s breast.

The song of the nightingale has scarcely been heard in Beleriand since the departure of Melian. But as the dawn rolls over the horizon, their chorus rings throughout Ossiriand. It seems to say: sister. 

~

Hello, the terns that nest in the soupy marshes at Sirion say to Elwing, we love you.

We love you, say the gulls, as they dive between the painted houses of the Edain. We love you, say the petrels as they make their way overhead to faraway places unseen and unheard of. 

It is a small thing, but it helps, in its way. Elwing is only three, and she is very lonely. She holds her secret kinship with the seabirds of Sirion close to her chest –- like her father’s gem, it is precious, and so it is worth caring for. 

~

“Is it true you can speak to birds?” the boy Eärendil asks her, not long after his arrival at the Havens. 

Elwing shrugs a little. “They speak to me. Sometimes they listen, too.”

“Wow.” He kicks lightly at the sand. “I wish I could do something like that.”

She looks at him, from the corner of her eye. There is an earnestness in his young face that she likes. “I could show you how I call them to me, if you’d like.”

She holds out an arm, whistles, and they watch together, smiling, as the seabirds dive down towards them.

~

Here, the gull tells her. Look. 

Elwing follows it across the sand, to the small tidal pool where it perches. Floating in the water amid the hair-like weeds: a bottle of blue sea-glass stoppered with a cork. She pulls it out, and unrolls the parchment within. 

Elwing, beloved , the letter begins, all is well on the maiden voyage of Vingilot. But I miss you so!

She feels herself begin to smile, and hugs the letter against her breast. The gull rises into the air, its work done, and Elwing’s heart soars with it, high among the stars and the clouds. 

~

The fairy terns hop along the shore in a miniature ballet, while Elwing’s sons watch, enraptured. Friends? One tern asks, shy. Friends. She assures it. 

She pushes her bare toes into the sand as she observes the scene. Sirion is at its best in high summer: the laughter of children ringing along the beach, the shimmer of the sun and the Silmaril against the waves, the migratory birds returning towards the warmer weather. The twins’ father will be home soon, too. 

One brave tern steps onto Elrond’s chubby hand. Another flutters towards Elros. All around them, tender joy takes flight.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Doing Silmarillion Daily has made me notice more about the Edain, and wow, some of the lesser-noticed characters had incredibly hard lives once you put the pieces together.

Take Galdor and Hareth, the father and mother of Húrin and Huor. They get married in Brethil (Hareth’s home), in a big double wedding (Galdor’s older sister and Hareth’s older brother also marry each other), at an incredibly young age - they’re nineteen and sixteen respectively, though they don’t have kids until they’re in their twenties. Hareth has to move to Hithlum, away from all of her family, while she’s still a teenager. When her kids are still fairly young, she has to send them off to Brethil to be fostered by their uncle according to Haladin custom, so she’s separated from her kids as well as parents and other relatives.

Then, while the boys are in Brethil, the Battle of Sudden Flame happens. The times of relative safety are over. Galdor’s father and his younger brother are both killed. Only a couple years later, they learn that their sons (teenagers, 16 and 13) fought in a battle against orcs and are missing, presumed dead.

A year later their sons return under mysterious circumstances and will say nothing about where they’ve been.

And only three years after that, Galdor is killed in defence of Eithel Sirion, the same place his father and brother died defending, and his son Húrin - only 21 years old - leads the counterattack.

Hareth has now lost her husband, father-in-law, brother-in-law, and spent a year thinking her kids were dead or worse, in addition to having been separated from all the rest of her family since her mid-teens - and her son, barely out of his teens, is now fighting in the same war that took everyone else from her and is called the head of the House of Hador.

And then, nine years later when she’s 51 years old, her father Halmir dies in Brethil, and a year after that comes the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the occupation of Hithlum, and one of her sons is missing-presumed-dead for the second time in her life and her other son is dead. And after that all the tragedies of Húrin’s family.

Just…ouch that is a lot!

[tolkienmatters]

Thus ended Nirnaeth Arnoediad, as the sun went down beyond the sea. Night fell in Hithlum, and there came a great storm of wind out of the West.

Great was the triumph of Morgoth, and his design was accomplished in a manner after his own heart; for Men took the lives of Men, and betrayed the Eldar, and fear and hatred were aroused among those that should have been united against him. From that day the hearts of the Elves were estranged from Men, save only those of the Three Houses of the Edain.

The aftermath of Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Silmarillion, Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

[dalliansss]

The first problem came in the form of Balan, an Adan, a mortal Aftercomer, whom Finrod bestowed the honorific name Beor. Even then, to be truthful, Finrod was causing problems with the beginning of his long absences from his realm. The King would do his duties faithfully for some years, maybe even an entire decade uninterrupted, then he would abscond to Eru-knows-where, leaving the business of ruling to his aristocratic court. Ninimben and all the older elves, the heads of the noble houses, disapproved of the king’s growing restlessness, and they began to push back slowly, carefully, but Finrod cheerfully ignored their complaints on this front. 

Tension, however, increased, when this Balan, this stinking, wrinkling nobody, arrived in Nargothrond. But Finrod was not yet done offending sensibilities and even risked damaging the age-old loyalty of his subjects, especially when he began to flaunt Balan openly as his lover, showering the adan with gifts of treasure and title. With Balan’s arrival, Nargothrond opened up its doors even more, daring to allow the establishment of not one, but three Houses of the Edain under its glittering caves: the Houses of Lapis, Chalcedony and Carnelian. 

Ninimben and all the old elven lords would have revolted, if not for the fact that thankfully and luckily, the edain had too short a life, and their heads of houses in Nargothrond were never given power nor jurisdiction to affect major policies of the kingdom, as the rule-making was still lodged exclusively with the King and the elven houses. The men were honored, but they were given only the barest hints of power in an elvish realm: a taste of prestige, some niche for belongingness, but never outright influence.

And for a while, watching the three houses of men scramble among themselves and scheme to one-up each other became a sport for Ninimben and the true powers of Nargothrond. 

Then the time came that finally, the nuisance that is Balan, Beor – finally grew too old to function, and died. 

Gone finally was the Great Nuisance of Nargothrond.

(Ninimben threw a party in his underground manse celebrating this fact; a very hushed-up affair. He ordered that the kitchens cook sumptuous foods for the entire household and he even distributed thirty bottles of Years of the Trees vintage to everybody under his banner.)

[all that glitters is not gold / AO3]

[sillylotrpolls]

(Notes on names and translations below poll. Click the read-more link to see, for example, why "star", "noble", and "silver" were used in options.)

I can't be the only person who thinks "Elf-man" is a terrible name, right? Like, I get it Elrond, your family tree is a giant mess and you're like half elf, three-eighths man, and one-eighth demigod, and everyone you know love naming their kids with the same first letters as their own name (thanks for that, Tolkien, I just love trying to keep all those Fi- names in the Silm straight), but maybe you could have broken with tradition and given your boys slightly nicer names? It's not like it's Latin, either, where most people have forgotten what the words actually mean; this is your everyday language here.

At least Elrond and Celebrían wised up by the time Arwen came along, though "Noble Maiden" still isn't very creative. I think Elves just might have something to learn from Mormons in this case.

Pictured: definitely not Jolkien Rolkien Rolkien Tolkien.

Anyway, translations for Elrond's family's names and where I got the names for the poll choices after the cut:

Elladan and Elrohir (Elrond's twin sons)

The name Elladan is Sindarin for "Elf-Man" or "Elf-Dúnadan," referring to his dual descent from both Elves and Edain (a name given to those descending from the three houses of Men from Beleriand).[15] It comes from the words el ("elf or star") and adan, singular of Edain.[16] On the other hand, Elrohir means "Elf-knight", but rochir also means "horse-lord".

Elrond (Elrond)

Elrond is a Sindarin name that means "Star-dome" or "Elf of the cave", from el ("Elf" or "star", interchangeably) and rond ("cave, vault").[17][18][19]

Celebrían (Elrond's wife)

The name Celebrían means "Silver queen"[6], from the Sindarin words celeb ("silver") and rían ("queen").[7]

Arwen (Elrond's daughter)

The name Arwen means "Noble maiden", from Sindarin ar(a) ("royal, noble") and wen ("maiden"). Her epessë Undómiel means "Evenstar", from the Quenya Undómë ("evening twilight") and el ("star").

Elros (Elrond's twin brother who chose to be mortal and founded Middle-earth Atlantis and was, for the record, much better at naming children than his brother)

Elros was a Sindarin word that meant "Elf of the spray", from el ("elf" or "star", interchangeably) and ross ("foam, spray").[8][9] The name came from the Quenya word Elerossë.[10]

And while we're all here, epessë:

The epessë or the "after-name" is the third type. The after-name is given later in life, but not necessarily by their kin, as a title of admiration. In some circumstances, the epessë is chosen by the Elf himself or herself. An Elf could be referred to by any of the three, but the epessë typically took preference.

Galadriel is the Sindarin translation of Alatáriel, the latter being the Telerin epessë originally given to her by Celeborn. Galadriel means "Maiden Crowned by a Radiant Garland". The name itself is an epessë: her father-name is Artanis (noble woman) and her mother-name is Nerwen (man-maiden).

The poll choices were created using this Lord of the Rings Elf name generator. I tried to make sure I picked the Sindarin options, in keeping with Elrond's family's clear preference. I primarily used the "meaning" option, but you could also specify "starts with 'el'", "male", and "Sindarin elvish names" to turn up a list of names like Elunaer ("Light blue bridegroom") or Elanorchanar ("Star sun flower brother").

Although the generator has obvious limitations due to the nature of Tolkien's conlangs, it's a lot of fun to play with. Just be careful or you'll next find yourself on the Parf Edhellen (Elvish dictionary) and from there it's just a hop skip and a jump until you're in a discord chat trying to figure out how to properly conjugate "knitting" or something.

Finally, just because I have always loved this paragraph, a quote from Bigger Things by Blossomwitch on Ao3:

Most people had trouble telling the twin sons of Lord Elrond apart. Gimli did not share this problem. True, they were very similar physically, but to Gimli the difference was plain. The one hanging all over Legolas like the Mirkwood Prince somehow belonged to him was Elladan; the one with enough sense to keep his paws off other people's elves was Elrohir. Simple enough.

[edennill]

Trying to write something...

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

It all started with Elros wanting a cavalry. The Edain did not have any larger, or even moderately sized horseback regiment and the lack irked him. Truth be told, there was more of them that did not know how to ride, than those who knew, and there was not enough of the latter among any single people to make up one - but there was plenty enough between the three Houses, and the House of Bor, and the many disparate mortal groups that had wandered into Beleriand at some point or another.

The other indisputable fact is that, among the members of the high command, Elros was The Baby, and the general consensus was that if Elros wanted a cavalry he should have one.

In hindsight, this may have been the begining of a nation.

[misericordel]

(comes to the toa anniversary munday late with starbucks)

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: leon

Pronouns: he/him or they/them. idrc

Birthday (no year): august 30th!

Where are you from? What is your time zone? i was born in virginia but spent like 90% of my life in the midwest ✌️ i'm central time

How long is your roleplay experience?

i've been roleplaying since i was a kid! i probably have around 10 to 12 years of "roleplay" experience

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole?

i started roleplaying on gaia online before the inflation really hit in the late 2000s (iykyk), and then i moved to deviantart took a break from that and now i'm here!

How were you introduced to TOA?

found it on twitter through a moot i think. the details are foggy at this point LOL

Do you have any pets?

yesss my two beloved chichis beethoven (bae for short) and skippy. yall may have seen em in the server but they're my babies and i spoil them so much. i've had them for around 7 — 8 years and my family adopted them from owners who neglected them a lot.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period)

late spring early summer you will always be my it girl

What is your IRL occupation?

i have a fancy title for it but for simplicity sakes i'm a university receptionist

Some interests and things you like/enjoy?

hmmm main interests are probably fire emblem, j-pop and vsynths/vocaloid/pjsekai (spongebob holding his hands out meme) I WAS A VOCALOID FAN STARTING IN THE LATE/MID 2000S

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play?

other than fire emblem i play a lot of jrpgs. i've been really into balatro and fields of mistria lately! (ooo you want to buy fields of mistria so bad) also project sekai as mentioned above. gacha is a curse though

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon:

i've always liked most psychic and dark types. my favorite pokemon is blaziken bc of nostalgia haha

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself!

much of my time spent writing here in toa is on company time bc i just happen to have access to a computer my entire work shift and it's generally quiet enough to do so

How did you get into Fire Emblem?

like a lot of people i first saw fire emblem in smash bros, then later on i think a year or two after awakening released i saw it on the shelves at my local gamestop and bought it because i recognized the namesake. of course i fell in love with fire emblem from that point haha (i have 100+ hours in awakening. lol )

What Fire Emblem games have you played?

i've watched playthroughs of a lot of em. for properly played though genealogy, blazing blade, sacred stones(never finished), awakening, fates conquest (never finished), three houses (golden deer + never finished blue lions), and engage!

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games:

first: awakening

favorite: genuinely a tie between engage and genealogy

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series!

veyle, sigurd, edain, caeda, tie between timerra and eldigan (yeah sigurd was actually beaten out by veyle. crazy times we live in.)

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason!

the very first one was cherche from awakening! very much was attracted to her weirdo onee-san vibes when i first played, and every playthrough after i would always put in extra effort to make her really good in my army haha

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳

y'all already know i go fucking rabid for sigurd von chalphy

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: chrom (BY CHOICE) - Fates: xander - Three Houses: claude - Engage: alfred bc hes a sweetie pie, though i almost s supported diamant instead

Favorite Fire Emblem class?

mage knight beloved

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable?

villager that needs a lot of extra planning to get anywhere good, or like a merlinus merchant type haha

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran)

golden deer hehe

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent?

all banes. all of them. every single one. if you manage to reclass me they all go to neutral instead

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon)

firene bc i'm just a little guy. i'd die at port florra though.

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?)

toe-uh. always have and always will

Current TOA muses:

veyle. feels weird to be a single muser.

Past TOA muses?

lesse iin order from my very best knowledge : sigurd -> cherche -> edain -> arthur (fe4) -> caeda -> askr -> timerra -> here i am now. that's probably a little worbled of a timeline though

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again?

my first toa muse was sigurd! i certainly have been weighing in my hand if i want to pick him up again recently

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?)

i gravitate to any character who suffers from the empathy disease i think if i were to give an answer that were all encompassing LOL i do like muses that are a little stupid though

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could?

i cant handle the stoic type or the intelligent type. it's a running gag for me at this point that i'd be interested in writing laurent or miriel if i were smart enough to do so

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?)

i love writing anything with/in relation to romance. it's like my bread and butter haha. i think i do conversations between characters best and have always struggled with writing things like fight scenes (though i have improved since i started)

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”?

i'm pretty satisfied with what i've been able to write for veyle here. i do like when i get to write veyle getting angry/fighting back though!

Favorite TOA-related memories?

0 days since our last food discourse

Present or past tense?

present tense! started writing in it and it just kinda stuck with me.

Normal size text, small text, no preference?

small text girlie for lifeee

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 

wouldn't you like to know weather boy

[nate-fraust]

On Tolkien, Martin, and Legacy

NOTE: this is the last of a four-part series concerning the creation and intent of the streaming series "The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power" and "House of the Dragon". The following text was originally written on September 18, 2022.

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Tolkien has often been ‘quoted’ as wanting to make ‘a mythology for England’ through his works on Middle-earth; this sentiment, though false in its words, holds true in his early views toward his stories. However, while Middle-earth is less a mythology for England in particular than a general alternate view of the medieval world in the Dark Ages, its influence on modern fiction is, in some ways, indeed tantamount to ancient mythologies on the tropes and structures of storytelling today. LeGuin, Pratchett, King, and many other modern writers claim to be influenced by the Professor’s work, but perhaps the best author of today that could rival Tolkien in style and scope is George R.R. Martin. 

Regarding being “true to Tolkien”, in a 2002 interview with Charlie Rose, Peter Jackson said, “We didn’t want to put any of our own baggage - I mean, we had no interest in putting our messages into this movie, but we thought that we should honor Tolkien by putting his messages into it.” Adaptation, by its very nature, means that some things may get lost in the telling - Hermes, for example, may have originally been an aspect of the god Pan, but was split off into his own being in the centuries over which his stories were orally recited. However, by the very nature of works of authors like Tolkien or Martin being written down, the importance with which society has imbued them imparts a kind of reverence that demands and requires the same care to be taken when adapting them to a format or story that is other than what they originally were.

“Rings of Power”, in that respect, has nearly utterly failed in its responsibilities as an adaptation of the legacies of both Tolkien and Jackson, whereas “House of the Dragon”, bearing respect for Martin and “Game of Thrones”, has succeeded. “Rings”, by its very nature, has done to Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” the exact opposite of “House of the Dragon”’s effect on “Game of Thrones”, having somehow retroactively tarnished the prior film trilogy for people who have only seen Amazon’s adaptation rather than both of them. Let me explain using the deeper lore that the showrunners and writers do not have access to.

In the opening moments of “A Shadow of the Past”, the pilot episode of “Rings of Power”, the writers depict the Darkening of Valinor, an event in which Melkor - Tolkien’s equivalent to the biblical Lucifer - destroys the Two Trees of Valinor. This act plunges the eponymouys island paradise into darkness and prompts the Elves of Valinor to go to war against Melkor, who they call Morgoth. This event, as recounted in the Appendices of “The Return of the King” - which is the only work of Tolkien the writers apparently have access to - is recorded thusly:

"[Fёanor] wrought the Three Jewels, the Silmarilli, and filled them with the radiance of the Two Trees, Telperion and Laurelin, that gave light to the land of the Valar. The Jewels were coveted by Morgoth the Enemy, who stole them and, after destroying the Trees, took them to Middle-earth, and guarded them in his great fortress of Thangorodrim. Against the will of the Valar Fёanor forsook the Blessed Realm and went in exile to Middle-earth, leading with him a great part of his people; for in his pride he purposed to recover the Jewels from Morgoth by force. Thereafter followed the hopeless war of the Eldar and the Edain against Thangorodrim, in which they were at last utterly defeated.” 

“The Silmarillion” expands on this short explanation by giving Fёanor a personal reason to go after Morgoth, as he killed Finwё, Fёanor’s father. However, in “The Silmarillion”, Fёanor’s journey to Middle-earth becomes both a voluntary decision and a banishment by the Valar, the gods of Middle-earth, due to his part in perpetrating the First Kinslaying of the Teleri elves by the Noldori elves, the first murder of elves by elves in all the history of Middle-earth. His actions, not the actions of Morgoth, are the reason for nearly every major elven character in “Rings of Power” to even be in Middle-earth, as they were part of the Noldor, the elven clan that accompanied and aided Fёanor in his war against Morgoth and were subsequently banished alongside him, unable to return to Valinor and forced to die and remain dead like Men. Yet, the show only mentions him in passing.

Galadriel, for her part, is the niece of Fёanor, and followed her uncle into exile. It was, in fact, her hair that partly inspired the creation of the Silmarils, as it was said to possess a sheen like the Two Trees. However, rather than aid Fёanor in his mission to regain the Silmarils, she sought to heckle his progress and defended her maternal kin, the Teleri, against his assault in the First Kinslaying. The lore makes no mention of any great skill in battle that she might possess, save for a few notes on her “Amazon disposition” in regards to athletics and her ability to command and earn respect from many people. Indeed, she did not fight in any of the major wars of the First or Second Ages of Middle-earth, instead wandering the world with her husband, Celeborn. This aspect of her character, along with the entire character of Celeborn, seems non-existent in the show.

Elrond, named “Half-elven” by the Sindar Elves of Middle-earth, is the great-great-grandnephew of Fёanor, and was rescued, named, and raised by Fёanor’s second son Maglor after the Third Kinslaying, which resulted in the apparent death of his mother, Elwing. Elros, Elrond's brother, was also rescued, named, and raised by Maglor alongside him, and went on to found the Kingdom of Númenor, dying after 500 years due to having chosen the Gift of Men - that is, a mortal life and death. Elrond, on the other hand, chose his elven heritage, and thus became immortal. After the wars of the Second Age - during which he fought alongside his king Gil-galad - and early into the Third Age, he married Celebrían, daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn and future mother of Arwen Undómiel, wife of Aragorn Elessar. However, despite the inferred existence of Fёanor in “Rings of Power” due to the existence of his grandson Celebrimbor, as well as a mention of him in Elrond’s dialogue, Maglor, his son, cannot exist, due to his existence in materials Amazon cannot use in their adaptation. Thus, Elrond as he is in the show should not exist. To compound the troubles, by the removal of Celeborn, Celebrían cannot exist, and so Arwen cannot exist.

To summarize using only these three characters: by the removal of key characters like Fёanor and Celeborn, the very story which Amazon claims to be adapting cannot exist. Thus, the legacy of “Rings of Power” as fanfiction of the lowest caliber is secured, as well as the impossibility of its very existence.