#well that one’s difficult but I would love to make him thingol

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

[eri-pl]

I would love to hear some of your orcish Maeglin headcanons! I think it's such a neat idea! (Thanks my friend who gave it to me!)

If I may ask, there's a few things in particular that I am super curious about! Does it affect his appearance at all? How does he first react when he learns? If his family learned of it, how would they respond? (Particularly Aredhel!)

Thank you for asking! People never asked me things before.

Long post below cut.

OK, so first, I think we have a different definition of hc. For you it seems to be a complex thing, like a mini-au (not necessasarily alternate). For me hc is just a fact I assume, or sometimes like to assume, or at least like to entertain at the moment.

So when I say "with this origin of orcs (link for people not knowing the context), I would probably hc Maeglin as semi-orc", I mean just this fact, not that I have an explosion of details in my brain. (I think semi-orc is a better name than part-orc when we're talking more about "orcs spontaneously reverting into elves through some generations" thing).

Anyway, I love to see how enthusiastic you are about things, and I like being asked, so let's make something up.

With appearance it depends on how you imagine orcs in general. I would say they are more animalistic and much less symmetrical than Elves, and get scars easily. Elves heal neatly (except in dractic circumstances, like Angband), because of the fea-hroa harmony.

Orcs have less of this harmony than humans, that's how they're made, by messing up their bodies and if the soul gives up, but instead of going away just accepts the situation and is like "well, that's bad, but it's fine I guess" we get an orc. Something like that. Something like in one text in Morgoth's Ring? Manwe talks about accepting evil and building upon it, as not necessarily evil in itself, but a source of problems (the context is of course Finwe's remarriage).

But we're talking an Elf here, so after some generations the bodies are born normal enough to be immortal. So it's more a Maedhros level of messed up than Orc level of messed up.

So how would he look?

Obviously, paler skin and bigger pupils, because this fits the physical traits. I would say, a less symmetric face. Not visible at first sight, still more symmetrical than average human, byt when he smiles, the smile goes a bit sideways. Maybe that's why he doesn't smile in front of others.

Also, in some depictions orcs have thicker, fur-like hair, so, especially if we imagine elven hair as very fine, Maeglin's would be more stiff.

(Also, no big flapping ears. Elven ears are human-sized, maybe a bit more sharp on the top but that's it. That is canon. IDK why but giving Tolkien Elves huge ears angers me more than it should. <3 and respect to everyone who draws the like this, but it gets on my nerves.)

I would assume he learned about his ancestry when being interrogated about the location of Gondolin, so it was ...difficult.

Disbelief, but Maeglin had always known that something was off about him, he'd always felt that his father is hiding something. (Mother too? I'm not sure if she knew.) Basically, it's the mix of emotional reactions which Luke has on Vader being his dad. But with more guilt mixed in, and shame. Maeglin very much feels like a toxic shame guy to me. He would do everything to keep it secret, especially from Idril. And to not be turned into a full orc (which I assume is impossible w/o consent, but the consent may be persuaded with long torture, so...)

Later, after returning to Gondolin, he would spiral into toxic shame, self-hatered, jealous of others who have a normal background and were not threatened like this, etc etc.

Family... well, Eol knew, obviously. It came from his side of family. His mother or father, I would assume, or (if we ignore the "kin of Thingol" note), Eol was of purely orkish ancestry, it just mosly reverted.

Eol... didn't assume orkish ancestry is something you should mention to your future spouse before marriage. He teased Maeglin, always suggested that there was something they shared that was unique and the Noldor would not accept it, but never told him anything concrete.

Aredhel...? she would be worried. Not in a "will my son turn evil?" way, more in a "will my son be healthy?" way and she would be like "now I see why he is like that". Imagine getting a mental health diagnosis for your child, and that's it (well, ok, orkish background has also physical components, not only mental, but I think in terms of how the parent feels it's close). Along with the "How do I treat him now? I should act normal, but also, he has special needs probably..." part.

She would generally be loving but a little lost. She would be angry at Eol for not telling her, but also very much wanting to show Maeglin that she doesn't love him less because he's like this.

She would probably tell the rest of the family, Aredhel doesn't seem to secretive to me. And she'd expect help. Turgon... I know a little of him, I guess he'd be fine with it? I mean, Maeglin is not an orc, just has some traits... And he's a good warrior...

Idril may, paradoxically, feel more comfortable with Maeglin after that (as long as he isn't flirting with her, because unrequited flirting is always uncomfortable). Now she knows what is off with him, she doesn't have to worry that much. She would overcompensate a bit, try to show him "I like you, the reason I don't romantically love you isn't because you have orkish ancestry, it's just because I don't", this would be a little awkward and Maeglin would read it as pity and probably hate it.

Celegorm would suggest banishing Maeglin, if not outright killing him. He spent a lot of time with Orome and is very strict about orcs. (Also, he is kind of a jerk). Curufin wouldn't care, Maeglin is good at crafts, and reasonable and polite, and this matters.

Of course, a lot depends on how and from whom they would learn. This is assuming Aredhel would be alive and she would tell them. I f they learned, let's say, from an anonymous letter, it would be a very different story (Turgon doesn't believe anonymous letters, Celegorm wants to find a way to check it, Curufin agrees it's worth checking, Celegorm is contemplating murdering Maeglin)

[iridescentoracle]

Ooooh, interesting! I actually disagree on a couple of those points; I don't think anyone in Doriath ever had the slightest idea where Gondolin was (at least until after both cities had fallen, when it was a moot point) unless you're counting Eol for the like, twelve hours before he died, and he clearly considered himself His Own Thing, not part of the Iathrim proper, so while Nargothrond might have acted as a steam vent I don't think Gondolin did, and while the most discontent might have moved to Nargothrond, I think probably most of even the reluctant Iathim stayed because better the devil you know than the devil you don't, and Nargothrond might have Ulmo's protection but Melian is right there visibly Being The Queen.

On top of both of those there's going to be interpersonal ties—maybe you aren't crazy about Thingol, but your best friend/parent/child/spouse thinks he's a great king actually and absolutely refuses to leave, and even if Nargothrond is safe, that doesn't mean travel back and forth is (or at least that it feels safe, to anyone with trauma from the devastation wreaked by that orc army right before the Noldor showed up), and even if it does feel safe travel is still slow, and correspondence is going to mean relying on someone else to make the trip between cities both ways, so moving to Nargothrond might make it really difficult to maintain interpersonal relationships with anyone who doesn't go with you, and combined with the other factors I feel like that adds up to a lot of people staying in Doriath semi-reluctantly even when there technically is another option.

Then, like I said, you get a new split arising during/after B&L, between anyone who's like "Thingol's actions were acceptable and/or it all worked out so it's water under the bridge now" and anyone who thinks he crossed the line, and probably some of the latter category do move to Nargothrond (RIP, not that the alternative is much better) but there's still all those other factors persuading some to stay in Doriath, and meanwhile the former category might well be among the least welcoming to Dior when he does come into play…

I do agree with you about the charismatic leader aspect, obviously; one of my main concerns about the original post was whether it came off as too critical of Thingol, or any of the various factions I was hypothesizing; for sure all indications are he was a genuinely very good king, on top of being very charismatic, and I really appreciate the glimpses we get of him in "Of Túrin Turambar" because that whole chapter strikes me as Thingol at his best in a way we don't get to see nearly enough of in the Silm, and that's a shame, you know?

And yeah for sure, Lúthien clearly has noooooooo interest in politics at all, and like, love that for her! Her parents are immortal, she has no reason to think Thingol is ever going to die, why would she need to care about politics, her parents will always be around to run the kingdom and she can run around outside keeping the seasons running and everyone's happy (until they're not), but I also think there might have been a period of time (basically up until she met Beren) when if something had happened to Thingol, she might have seen it as her responsibility to take up the role of leader if the Iathrim wanted. I think one of the other places we maybe have differing interpretations is that I think Lúthien is willing to live in exile because she sees her father's actions regarding Beren as crossing several lines, and that although she certainly didn't want Thingol to die, she also… doesn't really want him in her life anymore? I think it's lowkey implied that she would've said "fuck my dad and fuck the Silmaril quest" and made their little safe haven for just the two of them from at least the point she rescued him from Tol-in-Gaurhoth, and IMO she only ever steps foot in Menegroth again after that because Beren thinks it's important to be true to his word (and, frankly, to avoid making a worse enemy of Thingol).

Lúthien indeed was willing to wander in the wild without returning, forgetting house and people and all the glory of the Elf-kingdoms, and for a time Beren was content; but he could not for long forget his oath to return to Menegroth, nor would he withhold Lúthien from Thingol for ever. For he held by the law of Men, deeming it perilous to set at naught the will of the father, save at the last need; and it seemed also to him unfit that one so royal and fair as Lúthien should live always in the woods, as the rude hunters among Men, without home or honour or the fair things which are the delight of the queens of the Eldalie. Therefore after a while he persuaded her, and their footsteps forsook the houseless lands; and he passed into Doriath, leading Lúthien home. […] Even in that dark hour Beren and Lúthien returned, hastening from the west, and the news of their coming went before them like a sound of music borne by the wind into dark houses where men sit sorrowful. They came at last to the gates of Menegroth, and a great host followed them. Then Beren led Lúthien before the throne of Thingol her father[.]

Like, obviously this is up to interpretation, but these two paragraphs, especially the bolded bits, suuuuuper suggest to me that as far as Lúthien is concerned, she has already broken ties with her father and Doriath by extension, and the only reason Beren gets her to return with him is because he's like "look even if we can just stay in a secluded little corner where no one will ever find us, #1 you shouldn't have to #2 "my girlfriend's dad fucking hates me and wants me dead" does not feel like a recipe for a long and happy life, please can we try to talk things out before we actually give up and settle for doing the outlaw thing because i have done the outlaw thing and it kind of sucks"

but yeah, it's never really felt plausible to me that she would've named her son "Thingol's Heir" because I think as far as she was concerned, if her dad wanted her to still care about making him happy, he shouldn't have tried to get her husband killed. I really like your take, though!! It's never occurred to me before and it's actually so much more tragic if Lúthien did make up with Thingol before the end…

Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons re: the political cohesion of Doriath. 👀

Oh man, I didn't expect anyone to actually take me up on that!

(Okay so I got partway into writing this and then realized I should probably note up front that I tend to stick to the Silm (& LOTR/the Hobbit where applicable, but they... aren't, here) as the most authoritative version of canon, and I can get into why and where the nuances/exceptions are there (I do say tend to stick, it's not hard and fast!), but that's mostly a side note here: the point is simply that I don't really factor other drafts or the poetic Leithian into my take on Doriath, Thingol, Dior, etc, just what we're told in the actual Silm. I also read the Silm as an in-universe history text compiled by in-universe scholars, who, being people, are going to have their own biases and blind spots, even when they're doing their best to be accurate!)

So, this is a two-part thing: #1, there's the political cohesion of Doriath before & at the time of Thingol's death, which i talked about in the tags of the post that prompted this ask but is kind of necessary as context for the Dior part to make sense, and #2, there's the actual Dior headcanons. Both of these parts are very long because I've never really seen anyone else suggest any of this stuff and I want to explain where I'm coming from thoroughly enough that it actually makes sense to people who aren't me, but the TL;DRs:

TL;DR 1: I think Doriath was probably a hot mess politically after Thingol died, with tensions between various groups of Sindar and Laiquendi in the leadup to Thingol's death & Melian's departure, and more political tensions afterwards between those who wanted Beren & Lúthien to come be the new rulers, and those who thought they should stay gone, with someone still in Doriath taking over.

TL;DR 2: I think Dior became Eluchil, potentially at the request of some portion of the Iathrim, hoping to help prevent Doriath from devolving into civil war, and saw dealing with the Silmaril-Fëanorioni situation as a lower priority than stabilizing Doriath's internal political situation until it was too late.

1. The political cohesion (or rather, lack thereof) in Doriath prior to Thingol's death

So, okay, the thing about Doriath is that we don't actually have any real idea of like... how much the Iathrim liked being the Iathrim? We're never told about any intra-Iathrim conflict, but a) the Silm was probably compiled mostly by surviving Gondolindrim or their descendants, so they wouldn't know about anything liike that unless surviving Iathrim told them, and after the Second Kinslaying I don't imagine many Iathrim would've been eager to talk about how things had actually been tense/messy/etc when they could remember everything as having been perfect until it was ruined by the Fëanoriondrim, and doubly so after the Third Kinslaying, so why would anything like that make it into the Silm?

and b) what we do know about Doriath is that it wasn't really Doriath as we know it until Morgoth came back to Middle-earth, and everything went to hell.

At the start of the first age, you suddenly get Doriath (the fenced land!) being the one protected area of a continent that used to be totally free and open. How many Sindar actually didn't particularly care for Thingol's style of leadership, or simply preferred to live nomadic lives, going basically wherever they pleased, until suddenly that wasn't safe anymore, and you were only guaranteed survival if you were close enough to Menegroth to be within the Girdle when it went up? ditto how many Laiquendi had no interest in swearing loyalty to Thingol right after their own king had just been killed, but again, made it to safety and stayed there over taking their chances on their own in the outside world?

I think it's entirely possible that there were always potential political tensions under the surface in Doriath that just... never got written about, because they never boiled over into actual political conflict, and so it was never the sort of tension that had any bearing on the historical record.

Except then Beren & Lúthien happen to the world, and a few years later the Narn, and in the blink of an eye suddenly the only king Doriath has ever had is dead, and the only queen Doriath has ever had is gone and the Girdle with her—and more than that, the only rulers the Sindar had ever had for three thousand years before Doriath existed.

And where a few years earlier I think the Iathrim would probably have turned pretty universally to Lúthien, now she's abandoned them for her human husband—and while she's my favorite character in the entire legendarium hands-down and I don't blame her, I think that's another place there might have actually been some very mixed feelings among the Iathrim that nobody wanted to admit to later because how could anyone have been upset with Lúthien—and on top of her abandoning them for him, I think it's extremely probable most of Doriath did not actually get over their xenophobia about humans in general or Beren in specific when Thingol did (we know for sure at least some of Doriath didn't, cf. Saeros insulting Túrin's mother & sister to his face), but again, who's going to admit to having had a grudge against the holy couple of Middle-earth after the fact, you know?

Conversely, there could've been a sizeable faction of Sindar who had been totally loyal to Thingol until everything happened with Beren & Lúthien, but who found his actions towards them and/or Finrod to be where they drew the line, and while (unlike B&L themselves) that faction stayed in Doriath, there could've been a new, additional tension on that front.

Finally, for all we know there were multiple factions within the Laiquendi of Doriath, with political tensions stretching back to before their king died, rooted in who-even-knows!

2. Dior

All of that, of course, sets up a very, very messy political situation for Dior to walk into.

The Doriath stuff is arguably more speculation than actual headcanon, but here's where the unambiguous headcanons come in: I don't think "Dior Eluchil set himself to raise anew the glory of the kingdom of Doriath." Obviously that's how it got written down, but bluntly, I can't see Beren and Lúthien having a kid that stupid or, like, power-hungry and arrogant?

What I can see is a situation where the messenger that brought word of Thingol's death and Melian's departure asked Beren & Lúthien to come take over as the new king and queen, we promise we're not mad about you leaving and we won't be xenophobic to your husband anymore we swear it's fine now pretty please, Beren & Lúthien said no, and the messenger either asked Dior as a second choice, or said "okay fine none of that was actually true but Doriath is falling apart and we need a leader ASAP and there's about eight different contenders* (mostly kinsmen of Thingol or Laiquendi) being backed by various factions and it's going to devolve into civil war any minute so if you care at all—" and Dior said "would I do?"

(* Ask me about my Galadriel headcanon)

I don't think Dior necessarily wanted to be king of Doriath, and I don't think he saw the throne as his birthright or anything like that; I don't think anyone involved, from Thingol to Lúthien to Dior himself, ever considered the possibility of Thingol dying and needing an heir! I think it's possible he was asked, or at most that he offered, and either way, I think he saw becoming king as taking on a responsibility for the sake of others.

(Which, like, "well here's a potentially impossible task that I'm going to take up even though probably no one thinks I'm actually capable of it, but it's my duty to help others as best I can" sure does sound to me like an attitude one might develop when raised by Lúthien "I kicked Sauron's ass cast a sleep spell on Morgoth and persuaded the Valar to find a loophole in the fabric of reality" Tinuviel and Beren "I stayed by my father's side as an outlaw to give my mother time to lead the rest of our people away hopefully to safety knowing I would never see her or any of them again (and then spent several years being a giant thorn in Morgoth's side for good measure)" Barahirion, where "apparently my grandpa I may or may not have ever met died, guess that makes me the king of a place i may or may not have ever been" does... not.)

I also think he either took on the epithet Eluchil, or was given it by whichever factions of the Iathrim accepted him as king, when he actually became king. Obviously he's going to be referred to as Dior Eluchil even before that in retrospect because that's how he's thought of later, but that doesn't mean it was actually a name he always had, you know?

The final thing is, I think if Dior essentially walked into a political situation five seconds from devolving into civil war, it makes his inaction regarding the Silmaril prior to the Second Kinslaying make more sense: the Fëanorioni have been sitting around doing nothing about the Silmaril in Doriath / with Beren & Lúthien this whole time, the letter saying "hey that's our Silmaril give it back now" is probably just a formality, and Dior's only been ruling for a couple years, there's still plenty of people dubious about whether he should be king at all, he might well be subject to at least some of whatever xenophobia remains about humans in Doriath, and in general all the work he's done on stabilizing the kingdom will absolutely come undone again if he screws up; he's trying to keep a kingdom from falling apart, the Silmaril thing can wait.

Of course, it wasn't a formality, and it couldn't wait, but why would Dior have known that?

[symphonyofsilence]

The sons of Fëanor: Headcanons & hot takes (Part 1 : Maedhros)

So since this dude lives in my mind rent-free 24/7 this got so, so, very long. Like essay long. Like you won't even believe how long it's not even funny! I'm probably gonna post the rest of the brothers in one post but this one is 10 posts in itself. So without further ado, let's get this over with.

I think he was very close to his grandpa Mahtan. I've explained here why I think his copper circlet was a gift from him. But also notice how Mahtan also wears a copper circlet. & I couldn't find it in the 'Shibboleth of Fëanor' which was used as the reference, but it was said on his Wikipedia page that Maedhros resembled his grandfather in 'face and disposition'. A part of it was probably inheritance (I personally headcanon that Mahtan had an easy grace & natural nobility to him that had nothing to do with being royalty. Finwë didn't have it. But Mahtan did & Nerdanel & then, Maedhros & Maglor inherited it.) But I think Maedhros might have spent a lot of time with Mahtan & loved him a lot & was happy that he looked like him & looked up to him & actively wanted to act like him.

Whoever his face took after, I firmly headcanon that he had Fëanor's eyes.

Being literally named 'supermodel', praised for his special hair color, most likely being the King's first grandson, most likely he was doted on from the moment he was born & he was very confident in himself. But Nerdanel would make sure that it wouldn't get to his head. He was very well aware of what a catch he is. But he would act down-to-earth about it.

Personality-wise I think he is charming, polite, at least on a surface level chill, laid-back, cool (the coolest cousin in the eyes of most of his cousins), confident enough to be humble, friendly & family-loving. But charismatic & with a commanding aura, he draws eyes to him even when he's sitting silently & when he speaks, he will be heard. he could get very serious. but I think he had an excellent sense of humor & he would use that to handle difficult diplomatic situations & gracefully lessen the tension in arguments or retort offensive comments. Like how he laughed off Thingol's cold message. (Or "you should excuse my brother. He's in a really hard place." "Oh really?" "Yes. His own head.") That sense of humor got really dark after Angband. Only Fingon, Aredhel Caranthir, Celegorm, in the version when he's alive Amrod, & weirdly Fingolfin & Lalwen got it. So he'd tone it down in company of others & use lighter jokes. After Nirnaeth & especially after Doriath, all that sense of humor turned to sarcasm, and salt & there was no other sense of humor but the dark one. I said he looked chill on a surface level, cuz I think he was one of those persons that as a friend or colleague or someone that you spend certain hours a day with them, he was excellent & you would enjoy your time with them, but as a family member, someone you'd have to spend 24 hrs with, he would get really, really overbearing. (a trait he shared with Fëanor. Except that it took much less time for Fëanor to become overbearing & he was like that with his friends & colleagues too one didn't have to be family.) & Maedhros, the excellent diplomat that he was, could get manipulative.& not just with other lords & ladies but in his daily life with people close to him. & he had a temper that rarely showed itself but when it did, it was scary. He wouldn't yell like the rest of his brother but his voice would become really quiet, his tone cold, & his gaze would burn. Maedhros was probably very polite & respectful. It's the default of how people at court are expected to behave, but I can't imagine Fëanor & his 3 middle sons to be exactly polite & respectful. But Maedhros was. Otherwise, how could he keep the Noldor together even in the worst of times? Also one can surmise this from the line 'If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.' 'Cause if the law of succession is not Agnatic seniority then he's just saying this to say that he's not doing any favors to Fingolfin. Fingolfin is the rightful king. He's being humble & polite. Many could say many things about the first son of Fëanor (that however he acts he's eventually his father's son he's never done anything against Fëanor's wishes and such and such) but they can't deny he's ever been anything but nice & polite. I think there must have been something about the Fëanorians that all their relatives still wanted to spend time with them even after the ship burning. I think everywhere they went they were the life of the party. Even people who didn't like them couldn't deny that. And one of the things about Maedhros was that he was a very active listener. Whatever you were saying he would look at you like you were saying the most interesting thing. He showed the exact right reaction. Said the exact right things. Sometimes repeated your words or mirrored your expressions. Everyone loved talking to him. Though for a while after Angband he kept zoning out in the middle of conversations. His eyes looked empty & distant like he wasn't there at all. And he wouldn't react when they called him. Sometimes he wouldn't disassociate but his eyes had trouble focusing. He got better in time. He even went back to being an active listener. But after Nirnaeth & especially after Doriath, a lot of times he wouldn't even look at the person who was talking to him. He usually just had a frown & a stoic expression as he listened. His answers were short, sharp & to the point.

He was the perfect heir; Dutiful, obedient, loyal & loving to his family, diligent, determined, a skilled commander, graceful, proud, a charming & courteous company in court and councils. One would expect great things from him. (& dutiful, obedient, loyal & loving to his family, diligent & determined, he followed his father's path to the bitter end to his own demise.)

I headcanon that he learned writing from Fëanor, the inventor of Tengwar, himself. & As perfectionist as Maedhros was, he insisted to write just like Fëanor himself. So they had very similar handwriting & so Maedhros would write a lot of Fëanor's letters for him. Those who were close to them could still tell the handwritings apart & one should have very seldom met Fëanor to not be able to tell the writing apart. Fingolfin's children could always say when it was Maedhros who had written the letter & would laugh their asses off at the "dear brother" things & such kind words that they couldn't imagine with Fëanor's voice. He lost that handwriting with his right hand.

I headcanon that he kinda invented modeling & had a knack for being a fashion designer. Sure he would stand as a model for Nerdanel. But also he always had very specific designs in mind for his clothes & ordered new ones a lot. He would sketch them out & explain them in detail to the tailors. It never crossed his mind to design clothes as a job. But everyone would praise every new clothes he wore in every new public appearance & the business of his tailors bloomed. & he highly influenced the fashion of the youth of the Noldor.

Sure, genetics & height are important factors but you don't get to be named a supermodel without working your ass out. So I assume his hobby was all kinds of sports. Riding, archery, swimming, you name it. & since Fingon totally looks like a joke (& an adrenaline junky who walks into the depth of hell without even telling anyone & with absolutely no plan & starts singing) I think they were always together in their practicings. I headcanon that his & Fingon's big plan before all went downhill was establishing the very first sports club in Valinor. & they were starting to pursue their dreams but then all went downhill & they broke apart & neither of them dared to go on with that idea cuz the idea was both of theirs & the other could probably sue. (they both knew the other wouldn't tho. And even if they did-which they wouldn't- it would just be an uncomfortable talk with grandpa. Really it was just bc they both lost motivation. It was only fun if they were going to do it together). & Maedhros, due to being a son of Fëanor-his heir at that- & apparently very loyal to him, was too out of favor with every authority in Tirion to start such a thing.

It's canon that he was a great diplomat. So probably he knew so many things about every lord & lady & he would use them to win them over when the need arised. Was quite tactful & silver-tongued. He would do Finwë's & Fëanor's paperwork, boring works & Finwë's accountings for them. Fëanor more & more believed that sitting in councils with other lords & ladies was a waste of time on a bunch of pompous idiots. So Maedhros went to councils in his stead. (many would use "Fëanor would never send him in his stead if he didn't believe that he would get him what he wants. They're the same." ) he was also the one prince who people would go to when they had business in court and didn't want to go through the whole bureaucratic hell. He would make shortcuts for them. & thus he was one of the very popular princes.

I think it's obvious that his favorite brother is Maglor. I headcanon that he was okay with Maglor & enjoyed playing with his baby brother until Maglor reached the age that is the elven equivalent of 5 & then they were constantly at each other's throats mostly because they shared a room and Maglor was constantly playing something & singing (& for the first years of the 'civil war era' he was still learning so the quality was not as good as it would eventually come to be.) & there was no peace & quiet for Maedhros. Sometimes Maglor would 'get inspired' and start playing something at 3 A.M cuz he'd say he will forget it otherwise. and so Maedhros would wake up yelling that the next time Maglor gets inspired he might get some inspirations of his own too. & on the other hand, Maglor was an introvert who enjoyed his own solitude & would like to have the room for himself while Maedhros would bring Fingon & sometimes other guests. Nobody would back down the war was raging & they would get annoyed at each others' mere sight. But Nerdanel wouldn't give them separate rooms 'cause she insisted that they needed to learn to coexist in peace & compromising. (U know...their dad is Fëanor...& he's not exactly famous for being the best brother... so...they needed that.) And after a while when Maglor reached the elven equivalent of 13 suddenly they became the best of friends. It happened so swiftly they didn't even notice how & when it happened. But even before that, they've become more civil 'cause their troublesome little brothers were born & they were kinda bonding over being responsible older brothers of common 'disturbers of the peace'. They maintained the close relationship from then on. When Maglor married & left their common room & Maedhros had the room all to himself, at that point, he didn't want to. It felt too empty without the original disturber of the peace. After Angband, the shadow of how Maglor didn't go to Maedhros' rescue for 30-something years never quite left them. They'd reason that there was no way for Maglor to be able to save him. What could have he done?! But Fingon did. Didn't he? They'd forget it. Bury it deep in their mind. But deep in their mind, it was buried. They were very close. In Beleriand, more than ever. They were Each other's, constant companions. They went through everything together. They fought in battles. But there was a pang of underlying guilt in some moments of extreme loyalty or not leaving Maedhros' side in Maglor. & it didn't really show itself until after Sirion. When their relationship was outright toxic & harmful.

Maedhros had the most real heartfelt disagreements with Celegorm & Curufin was also kinda pitted against him from the get-go, & they clashed a lot. All the members of the family had strong personalities & would clash a lot but even if they fought among themselves, they would kill any outsider who would dare to fight their brother.

I think family was a very important concept for the Fëanorians. Since Fëanor didn't feel like a member of his primary family, he would try to make the most unbreakable family possible when he married & had kids & teach them to put family before everything. (& they didn't even notice when Fëanor himself forgot that. Not until later.)

Everything in his possession was considered public property by his brothers & they wouldn't even tell him when they "borrowed" his things which resulted in him constantly searching around the house for his things. His impressive height was a mercy from Eru so he would have clothes left in his wardrobes to wear. & his brothers would ruin the order of his room when they put his things back. He was especially orderly.

I don't think any of the Fëanorians are the cuddling type. They show their love in various other ways.

When Maedhros returned from Angband, Caranthir was the one who would bring him food & medicine (he once caught someone else taking an unchopped steak to Maedhros & he got angry saying did you expect him to chop it himself? Or were you going to chop his food for him in front of him & wound his pride like that? & he took the dish & chopped the steak himself & took the mission upon himself from then on), he would make Maedhros laugh with his sharp sarcasm & bitter humor, would chew out anyone who tried to help Maedhros without asking his permission when he was trying to do something, Celegorm would practice with Maedhros day & night tirelessly as long as Maedhros needed. Whether it was getting back on his feet again or sword fighting. He would also leave Huan with him in his room. Curufin made him a wheelchair, a walking stick, new swords & helm & armor & throwing knives & special shields & with the help of Celebrimbor(his first big project cuz he wanted to do something for his uncle) a mithril prosthetic hand, he & Ambarussar helped him to get back on horse's back, Maglor would help him catch up with everything that has gone with Noldor & help him organize the mess & do the majority of his work for him & keep the things between the 2 hosts civil, he would give him all the mental support he needed & he would play soothing songs for him. Ambarussar would take him out whenever he needed fresh air. Fingon would do all of these minus the smithy work whenever the brothers would let him. Or...u know....sometimes even if they didn't. (even though they were grateful to Fingon the guilt of not saving Maedhros themselves was ever-present in their hearts. So they'd always politely tell Fingon that "you've done so much already. we thank you. We can't bother you more. Leave the rest to us." To which Fingom would reply that it was no bother & he wanted to do these.)

He's always tried to be mama's & papa's perfect boy but after a while, these 2 were impossible to be simultaneously. As an oldest brother, I think of him as sth like Steve Crane in the Haunting of Hill House. He was always trying to be a good, responsible elder brother. & he was, for the most part. But after everything life has thrown at him, after Nirnaeth to be precise, he's too preoccupied with his own misery & conflicted emotions to properly function as a stable, comforting big brother. & even then he still tries to do his best towards his siblings. If he sometimes sounds harsh or bitter he almost immediately regrets it & tries to do better. But it's just that he has nothing left in him to give anymore.

He loved & respected & admired Fëanor a lot. I think they were very close. (they canonically traveled around Aman. The sons followed Fëanor everywhere. He's noted to seek their council during the flight of the Noldor. & maybe these 2 were closest cuz Fëanor married young & Maedhros was his firstborn so Fëanor was still very young when Maedhros was born.) His dad was the smartest person he knew & what he said was the truth. It wasn't that he did whatever Fëanor said it was just that what Fëanor said made sense. He was logical & persuasive. Even if Maedhros didn't always agree with his methods. It wasn't until after Losgar that Fëanor came to perspective for Maedhros. That ship burning was not only betrayal but madness. they needed numbers to defeat a god. & Fingolfin had the largest host. & Fëanor knew that too when he invoked them to rebel & when he made haste to get on the way before they change their mind. & after Fëanor died & left Maedhros alone in a wide, unfamiliar land to defeat a god with the little number they had, & after Maedhros' got outnumbered by Melkor & captured, & was eventually saved by Fingon, he couldn't help but go back to what Fëanor did, get angry, resent him, then remember that Fëanor was grieving & furious & paranoid & his judgment was clouded & he loved his sons with all his heart & he would never do anything that would hurt Maedhros. & the more the oath thing kept going, the more this cycle was repeated. He had to actively remind himself that he himself took the oath & followed Fëanor voluntarily, that Fëanor couldn't possibly know it would get to this, none of them did. remind himself of all the loving, caring, sweet, beautiful moments with his father, all the acts of love & care & affection & sacrifice his father had ever done for him & his brothers, remember that it was all Melkor's influence that drove him to his demise, it was all carefully planned & executed by Melkor, that Finwë meant the world to Fëanor & the thought of getting replaced by his little brothers in Finwë's eyes & then Finwë's death crushed his world, & then as he grew up & thought back on Fëanor, learn that in the end, he was a broken, lonely, scared man who was afraid of being replaced & forgotten. All this to subside his raging anger & hatred towards Fëanor. Whom against his own judgment subconsciously he blamed for everything. (though he told himself that it's all Morgoth's fault. & in reality, he blamed himself most of all) 'Cause, in the end, Maedhros loved his father. He loved him very much even when he hated him.& he would defend him against outsiders. Cuz family was family.

About his cousins, do I even need to say anything about Fingon & Maedhros? Turgon I think didn't like the sons of Fëanor at all. Turgon liked his peace & quiet & the sons of Fëanor when they stormed their house would ruin it. & he thought they were jerks & his brother & sister turned into jerks when they were with them. (they'd just lightly tease him. Nothing offensive.) & his reasons to dislike them grew more & more as time passed. He was a firm believer that Maedhros is no different than the rest of them despite appearance. Aredhel was clearly their friend. So I think was Argon. & Finrod too. (less than Aredhel & even Argon. He was mostly friends with Turgon.) Angrod & Aegnor at first didn't really like Maedhros 'cause they loved Fingon & wanted to be his friends & they thought that when Fingon was with Maedhros he wouldn't pay them enough attention. & they had "grown-up" inside jokes & "grown-up" subjects to talk about. Later when they grew up they all became friends. Galadriel canonically never liked the sons of Fëanor. But headcanon that even if she didn't generally like him, in a semi-banquet among the newly reunited Noldor, when the time for dancing came, & Maedhros who had not completely healed at that time & relied on a walking stick, stayed sitting & did not participate, it suddenly came to Galadriel's attention that during years of the trees, Maedhros was his favorite dance partner (After Finrod) during balls. cuz he was one of the few men taller than him so she could finally have the elegant effect she was looking for when she was dancing. & they talked about sports events & he was witty & funny & would make her laugh. & she didn't quite realize that until then.

For the life of me, I cannot imagine this elf in a romantic relationship with a lady. Like, I certainly can't imagine him as straight but I can't even imagine him as bi. he's either gay or aspec or somewhere in between.

When I read his dialouges I can clearly hear his voice in my mind & it's raspy. His cheekbones & jawline could cut diamonds & he kept his hair long & with braids that differed from era to era. After Sirion, subconsciously, his braids resembled Celegorm's, he wore eyeliners like Caranthir, there were elements of Ambarussar's clothings in the way he dressed & his armor & prosthetic hand & weapons were already Curufin's work. Both to show his loss of identity & more than that, loss of himself in family obligations, & to show that he's haunted by ghosts.

It was interesting to me that out of his 3 Quenya names, he combined two of them & left his father's name out. I think it confirms that Nelyafinwe was a jab at Fingolfin. (I think Fëanor intended to secure his line as the line of succession. Even if Finwë to their knowledge wasn't going to die, maybe he would someday want to retire.) & I think Maedhros knew that, & didn't like that. (I think Nerdanel & Finwë & others would bring all kinds of ridiculous alibies to say that no, it's not a jab at Fingolfin & they would all jump on his mother's name when Nerdanel gave it to him & until then just call him Nelyo or sweet baby or sth. But everyone knew the truth. & Fingolfin would always especially call him "Nelyafinwë" to show Fëanor how unphased he was by this petty move. He continued to call him that even after Fëanor's death. & Maedhros was less than impressed by being used as a political ploy like that.)

Probably elves that don't age & don't grow sick, take their looks for granted. When Maedhros came back from Angband, he looked like a skeleton, he was scarred & they had to shave his head to check for injuries (& also that very, very long tangled greasy mess could not be washed.). When he first looked at himself in the mirror, he who even among the fair folk has always been known for his good looks, & now was probably the most unpleasant-looking elf amongst such dashing people, had another breakdown. He was no Maitimo (well-formed) or Russandol(copper-head). For his Sindarin name, He combined the two names & named himself Maedhros. It was a reclaiming. It was a promise. The dead king was back.

He seems like a very inspirational leader. The very fact that he was alive was a miracle let alone getting back on his feet & defending the borders & healing rifts. & with his level of determination & charisma & strength & big plans, of course people would follow him to Himring even if he wasn't Fëanor's heir. Some would follow him to hell. (So it's all the more tragic when some of his followers turn against him in Sirion.)

I stand by what I said here.

From "the eldest, whose ardor burnt yet more eager than his father's flame. Than Fëanor's wrath." I surmise that he had many hopes & dreams.

He went to battles with a very small vial of poison hidden in his clothes after Angband.

I said a lot of what I had to say about his relationship with the Peredhel twins in this fanfic. I won't repeat them now cuz this post is already so long. (I've said before how much I love the grumpy murderous morally gray dad involuntarily adopting the traumatized gremlin trope & goes from "Nah thank u, no kids for me." To "I've had X for a day & a half & if anything happens to them I'll kill everyone in this room & then myself". (Like Joel/Ellie, Logan/Laura, Silco/Jinx and such...)& since Maglor seems like a mild-mannered person even & even at his worst he doesn't seem grumpy & he willingly adopted the kids, Maedhros if is then.) He comes to love those kids. He would kill & die for them. But because he fears that by considering them family, they'll come under "the house of Fëanor & those who follow them" & thus under the curse of Mandos & the trauma of "those who followed the house of Fëanor" in Nirnaeth never leaves him, he will not let them consider themselves family. He even orders to have shields with the star of Earendil made for them as soon as they learn to fight so they would not use Fëanorian bearing on their shield. Elrond & Elros at first feel upset that the lord of the house doesn't want them as family but they understand when Maglor explains the reason to them. When a subconscious part of Maedhros' mind keeps seeing Elrond & Elros as family his conscious mind insistently shuts it down. (They do feel like family in his heart though, against his will.) They're just his brother's wards, he keeps thinking, & his responsibility towards them is no more than an adult's towards kids. The lord of the house towards the wards. & someone responsible for them being orphans in the first place. As he keeps reminding himself. He feels very guilty towards them. He feels like keeping them is selfish & twisted & just to ease their own guilt. He feels like the association with them will ruin the twins' reputation & life. So he tries to keep his distance (an effort entirely ignored by the twins & especially Elros, As I said in the fic.) He will say he's sorry but he won't ask for their forgiveness 'cause he fears that they will grant it & that would be because they're children raised by them & don't know better & he'll be exploiting their innocence & naivety. But despite all his feelings, even if he doesn't ask, he's forgiven. & even if not in name, in their own strange way, they're family. & love grew between them.

I'm not really sure if Maedhros would accept Mandos' call. I will preface this by saying that I don't think any of them got cast into the void & thus "doomed to eternal darkness" bc Fëanor himself got to the halls of Mandos & I think it misses the point. The point was that there was no point. The oath was in vain. They wouldn't truly get condemned to eternal darkness if they forsook the oath to prevent kinslayings. The eternal darkness was eventually what they brought on themselves. It was a self-fulfilled prophecy. (& I think the oath was eventually fulfilled. One of the Silmarils was with Fëanor's great-nephew & thus, his kin. The 2 others also were eventually in the hands of Fëanor's kin. Maedhros died with Silmaril in hand. & it doesn't say that "Fëanor's kin" can't cast the Silmaril away.) IMO there are several ways that it could go after his death : (CW mention of suicide ahead.)

You see, one really beautiful & tragic thing is that, after Angband, yes "the shadow of his pain was at his heart" but also "the fire of life was hot within him" & considering everything, from what we know, he seems to be doing well. Shortly after his rescue, He functions better than most people do in all their lives. He reunites the Noldor, we see him laugh (how many characters do we see laugh in the Silmarillion if you don't count the "fay" & evil laughs?) arranges his brothers' lands in a way that they have the least interaction with their uncle & cousins. Chooses his own land right on the borders & makes a stronghold & keeps it for years, he attends feasts & goes hunting with his brother & cousin. (& these are why I don't believe grim & gloomy Maedhros quite emerged until after Nirnaeth. Sure he would get very serious & focused & determined & brooding & there was a shadow of pain and depression on him but the Valinor era Maedhros was still there. Until Nirnaeth.) He was still hopeful & fierce & fighting. After Dagor Dagorath, even though the Noldor seemed defeated & they had lost their king, Maedhros, who was the only one whose kingdom was not hidden but RIGHT ON THE BORDERS & managed to keep it, got inspired by Beren & Lúthien & formed the Union of Maehros & sought to destroy Melkor, & even after Nirnaeth, he is still persistent & unstoppable it's just that now his persistence has turned to a dark cause. & it keeps going on like that until the third kinslaying. Time & time again, he keeps falling down & then he keeps getting back to his feet (& this is one of the things really admire about him). So when in the end, he ends his own life, I think he was pushed to his limits & that was finally a fall that he couldn't get back up from. So he just made the final, ultimate fall. (& I don't think it was his first suicidal thought I think he had these thoughts for a long time. They came & went & he kept pushing them back but they were there.)

You see I think when he got rescued from Angband he made one promise to himself & that was to eventually see it burn. & when in the War of Wrath Angband was destroyed & Maedhros watched it fall, his story drew to an end. After that, it was Fëanor's story going on through his two eldest. So when that ONE thing that kept driving them, that ONE thing that made them do such terrible things burnt his hands & he figured that it was all in vain, it was the final straw. He wouldn't want to go to Mandos or anything. He just wanted not to be. To end it all. He didn't want to face Mandos or his family or the Teleri. Or someday get reimbodied. He wanted to fade. To get lost & forgotten. & he wouldn't think himself worthy of healing. & the Silmarils apparently agreed.

This is not a version I like though. Not at all. & it doesn't even have any bittersweet beauty to it it's just bitter.

But another possible reason for it is that we see how he doubts that the Valar would show them lenience & MAYBE he blamed Mandos for the curse & how he doomed them from the start & didn't give him any chance & left no room for improvement. So he didn't like him, didn't trust his judgment & didn't want to get judged by him.

Also, it seems like Maedhros' case was like the second one talked about in LaCe.

But let's get to why he might have answered Mandos' call :

As you see above, the way "not answering Mandos' call" is talked about in the LaCE makes it sound like in the eyes of the Valar & the Eldar, it's the ultimate wretched thing an elf can do. Like if somebody does that, there's no way back for them. They're lost. The lowest of lows. I doubt any of the Eldar would dare reject Mandos' call. Even Fëanor who so fiercely & famously disliked the Valar didn't do that. So I don't know if Maedhros would. Also by the way he & Maglor talked about the Valar & Illuvatar looks like they still hold them in reverence & fear them. Maglor even hopes that they would show them mercy. & Eonwe DID show them mercy. So-...

If he gets to Mandos' halls I think he will spend either a long, long while or forever just sitting somewhere & sulking. Nienna can't help him cuz he doesn't want to be helped. Fingon can't cuz Maedhros is ashamed of him & can't look him in the eyes. (though I think Fingon would persist & eventually win & get to help him. Not that he wasn't upset with him but he directed a lot of his rage & blame on Fëanor cuz it was easier. & also seeing how Maedhros suffered all those years & eventually killed himself he pitied him & knew he regretted everything & his heart was still in the right place. Also, what can he do, good or bad he loved him.), his brothers were in need of healing themselves so there was not much they could do for him. & his father, well he was in need of healing but his son was more important. I think Maedhros was numb from pain but still, if any feelings could be felt within him, he did feel hatred & anger towards Fëanor, but hatred & rage take so much energy so he couldn't hold on to them, he wanted to get rid of them, he couldn't even feel them fully. & he still loved & needed his dad. & Fëanor would give him distance if he needed it, give him hugs when he needed it, if he needed someone to yell at & blame, Fëanor would take the blame, if he needed someone to give him comfort, Fëanor would do that too. He would do anything to give Maedhros what he needed to heal. & show love & remorse in his deeds.

& one of my headcanons is that when Elros dies, he tells Mandos that there is someone who owes him a proper goodbye. & if he's stepping into the unknown, he wants him to accompany him. & since Mandos is apparently soft for this family he allows it. So Maedhros & Elros meet. & their words to each other shall remain private between them like how Arwen & Elrond's last meeting was. & Maedhros accompanies him until he can go no more & they say farewell. But that conversation with Elros changes everything. & he does mourn him even if Elros seemed happy & content & in peace. But after a while, after more than 4 centuries of sulking, he steps into the path of healing. & the path of healing is not known for its easiness. There are many fallbacks & stumblings but he let Nienna & Fëanor & Fingon help him & he will help his brothers too & they will help him in return & he tries hard & will eventually get there. Maybe he will never leave the halls, but he eventually heals. & helps others heal.

& this might seem far fetched & unlikely but even if he doesn't answer Mandos' call right away I like to headcanon that when Elros goes to the halls he still asks after Maedhros & when Mandos says that he's not here, he didn't answer my call, Elros will answer "but he will answer mine." & he does. & it goes just like what I said above after that. (There is poetry in that the last good thing he did in his life was helping raise the twins & eventually it pays off.)

I strongly associate him with the amazing devil's "farewell wanderlust" like "I'll promise you I'll be better I promise you I'll try but like robbing wine stains into rugs it's my curse to try & make it right but by trying make it worse"?! Come on that's him!

& finally

[foxleycrow]

Thranduil & Túrin playing together in Doriath, for @tolkiengenweek —when I realized they could have been kids in Doriath at the same time, I had to draw them together.

This one also comes with a short accompanying fic about their meeting:

To Wear an Elven Crown

Thranduil had longed to meet the Adan since he had heard the first tales of his arrival in Doriath. His wish had displaced most other longings in his heart. If he could speak to an Adan, he could practice his Mannish and ask him about so many things, like the life of his people and the world outside the Fence. Beleg Cúthalion had found the Adan lost in the woods, and then King Thingol had adopted him! Thranduil had never heard of anyone adopting an Adan, let alone the king himself. If he were now Thingol's son, did that mean he was an Elf, as well as a Man? 

Thranduil had asked his father several times whether he could visit the Adan, but each time he was told the newcomer was too unwell. He had been sick and weak when he was discovered, and he was not yet strong enough to entertain company. This news sank him into a deep state of worry. The Edain could contract illnesses, and were mortal. What if this one became very sick, or even died! Of course, the healers of Doriath were the greatest in Middle-earth, but the Adan had come from dangerous lands far from the protection of Doriath, where anything might have befallen him. Thranduil had heard stories of strange fevers and chills that Edain could suffer from; what if the Elven healers did not know how to treat them?

"If he were to speak with someone his own age, Ada, he might feel better." The Adan was young, like himself. Not precisely the same age, since Edain aged so differently, but near enough in essence. He wondered what kind of games the Edain played. Maybe they had invented some no Elves had dreamed of…

"Do you believe so?" asked Oropher, raising an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective. I did not know you had become such an expert on the matter."

"I would feel better, if it were me." In defiance of his father's eyebrow, he added, "I asked Beleg to tell me everything he knows about the Edain."

"Oh, so you are an expert. My mistake." Oropher's hand settled on his head. Thranduil felt the warmth of his father's skin on his brow and blinked. "He has been through much, little Tuil," said Oropher. "We will not tax him any more than we need to."

After offering a gentle pat, Oropher withdrew his hand. Thranduil lay back, resting his head among the grasses. Thranduil did not expect his father to understand, for Oropher was very old. There were no children in King Thingol's house, and if they would not allow Thranduil to visit and talk to the Adan, then they would not have let any other children in to speak to him; that was obvious.

"I am an expert," Thranduil murmured, closing his eyes. Beleg had told him that the Edain could grow lonely and sad, like Elves, and that they too loved to dance and sing and tell tales. The Adan was named Túrin, and his father had been an Elf-friend. That meant he was an Elf-friend, too. If he was a friend, then he should be treated as one and given a warm welcome by everyone in Menegroth. Surely that would make him feel better than being kept away from others.

"Are you falling asleep?" Oropher asked. "I'll take you back home."

He shook his head stubbornly, the blades of grass making themselves felt on his cheeks and chin. Narrow, but not quite sharp. They did not hurt, but he sensed each one keenly. "No, I want to nap out here in the sun." They were well behind the Fence and close to Menegroth, so these woods were safe and guarded. He could play or explore or rest among the trees whenever he liked, because Queen Melian kept them all from harm.

He heard Oropher's soft laughter and felt his father's hand settle on his head again briefly. Then he was only aware of the warm sun heating his skin and the faintly prickly touch of the grass carpeting the clearing. Soon, he was not aware of the clearing either, lost in a dream, wandering far from the waking world. He dreamed he was journeying through a dark, withered wood, bristling with dead branches. The sky was veiled with dense, gray clouds. There was an unnatural air to them, as if storm clouds had been thickened with smoke.

There was a cold wind at his back, and he was all alone. The dead trees were so tall, they made him feel smaller. He heard something moving behind him, breaking branches and rustling through shriveled leaves. An animal? Or something worse? He did not know, and he did not want to turn to look, so he ran. He ran until he felt he had been always running, yet no matter how quick his steps, the noises behind him persisted, never any closer, but never farther away.

Thranduil woke with a gasp. He sat up and scanned the clearing. It was as green and tranquil as it had been when he fell asleep. He heard the low buzz of insect song and the faint voices of the trees. Father was gone. He saw no sign of anyone nearby, although that was not unusual. The sun's light was starting to fade from the sky. It was that between-time when patches of sunlight were still scattered across the forest floor, while the first stars appeared in the purpling twilight above. Thranduil rose to his feet. He was a little hungry, but he was well-rested, and he wasn't ready to return home. He would rather play, until Father came to fetch him. He left the clearing, slipping into the undergrowth as soundlessly as possible.

One of his favorite games was Marchwarden. It was more fun to play with someone else, but it was a game he could also play alone, simply by moving as quickly and quietly as possible, so that no enemies could see or hear him—exactly like a Marchwarden. He was tracking. Not hunting, but searching for any sign of danger, to keep Doriath safe. He studied whatever tracks he came across, or other signs of passage, such as broken twigs or bent grasses, trying to judge who or what had come the same way, and how long ago. He could wander like this for hours, happily, alone.

He was not entirely happy. He was more uneasy as he searched for signs in the grass, because of his dream. Within the dead wood, he had felt like he would never be allowed to rest, racing with an enemy eternally at his back. Dreams always meant something, but not always what you thought they meant. It took a wise Elf to read dreams. He could have asked his father about it, and maybe he would later. Now, he stalked through the dense growth, crouching low so his pale hair couldn't be seen.

When he heard low and distant voices, Thranduil was still lost in his game, so he crouched lower, listening intently as he crept closer. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, hiding as he'd been taught.

"—where he could have gone—?"

"We will find him, and soon. There's only so far...."

"I hadn't thought he was strong enough. I would never have guessed he'd be so quick."

"You shouldn't underestimate—"

The speakers moved away, out of the range of his hearing. Those were two of Thingol's guards. Could they have been talking about the Adan? It was possible, and not only because Thranduil thought of the Adan so often. Who else would they have thought wasn't strong enough? If the Adan was lost, he might grow sicker. Imagine how upset King Thingol would be. If Thranduil was a Marchwarden, then he had a duty to do whatever he could to protect everyone in Doriath: including any Edain. He moved on again, more quickly and with greater purpose.

He studied the forest, down to the least leaf, and he listened to the birds singing, the faint breeze moving through the branches. He listened for telltale noises, or telltale silences. He wondered whether the Adan had had a nightmare, like he had. Maybe that was why he had run off. It must have been hard for him to leave his home behind, especially because of the war: that distant, dark shadow hanging over everything, even the forests of Doriath.

Where would an Adan go? Possibly into the undergrowth, where he was. A place where someone small would hide. Thranduil knew of many secret spaces ideal for concealing himself, but few of them were nearby, close to where the guards were hunting. A slight Adan would leave faint footprints. Like Thranduil, he would have been trained in how to hide, if he were in danger. Thranduil was sure that the great trackers of Doriath could find anyone, but maybe Túrin would be difficult to find, more difficult than they expected.

Thranduil headed toward the Dome—it was a vast, curving structure of twisted woody shrubs, crowned with flowering vines. It was bright enough to draw the eye of a stranger to these woods, and dense enough to provide ample cover and shelter. Thranduil often crawled in there to play, because it was like a fortress. He could pretend he ruled there, lord of the branches and leaves and blossoms.

Thranduil found a faint indentation that might have been left by someone running this way. Shortly after that, he spied a tiny tuft of thread, caught on a hooked thorn. It was bright blue in color, so it stood out more than it might have otherwise. Could he have been correct in thinking the Adan might have been come this way? He had been guessing, but maybe he really was a Marchwarden. He would have to tell Beleg, if he succeeded in his hunt.

Emboldened by the thought that he might be better at tracking than Thingol's own guard, Thranduil sank to his knees and crawled into one of the narrow passageways that led into the Dome. With twisting branches on either side of him, and a ceiling of ivy above, no one outside would be able to see him, once he had travelled the length of a few paces. There were no wider  ways in, the growth here was so dense. Anyone who was much larger than Thranduil would have had to cut their way through. Among the branches, Thranduil caught sight of another slight scrap of blue thread. The branches here loved to tug on clothing.

Encouraged, Thranduil moved faster, until he arrived at a fall of dense vines, pushed through them, and found himself confronted by a pair of dark, shining eyes, staring at him. The Adan gave a start, but did not run. It was hard to travel quickly within the Dome, especially if one didn't know it as well as Thranduil did. Thranduil had half-suspected he was imagining his grand success in tracking, so he sat, blinked and stared back at his quarry, startled and bewildered and pleased.

The Adan was seated with his knees drawn up toward his chest. He was very thin, the thinnest child Thranduil had ever seen. His narrow face made his eyes look bigger. Here, he was walled off from the world—or most of it. He looked a great deal like an Elf, although Thranduil could tell he was different as well. It was hard to say exactly why; he simply felt different, like the night air felt different from the air of day, or the atmosphere before a storm as opposed to in the dry season: different in so many various slight ways, some of which were easier to describe than others.

Although Thranduil had longed for their meeting with joy, he felt unexpectedly solemn, now that it was taking place. "Hello," he ventured, in Sindarin. "I'm Thranduil, Son of Oropher."

The Adan blinked, and for a moment, Thranduil wasn't sure if he would—or could—reply, but at last he answered softly, "I'm Túrin, Son of Húrin."

"Why are you out here?" Thranduil asked. He didn't wish to sound accusatory, so he added, "Did you want to play?"

Túrin looked away, into the shadows between the leaves. "I wanted to be by myself."

Thranduil nodded, as this was perfectly understandable. "I like to be by myself, too."

Túrin's gaze shifted back to Thranduil. He seemed relieved to hear this, exhaling.

"Can I stay, though?" Thranduil asked. "Now that I'm here."

"You can stay," Túrin said.

Thranduil knew that Thingol and all his guards and attendants and everyone must be nervous, but he didn't think a little while longer would do any harm, especially not when Túrin must have run here for a reason. Being surrounded by everyone at court could be overwhelming. Thranduil had never been far away from home and everyone he knew before, but it must be hard. It would be better not to rush him. He would let Túrin rest for a little while, and then he would take him to Thingol—just as Beleg had, before.

"I can show you something," he offered.

After another hesitation, Túrin nodded.

"Follow me," said Thranduil. He crawled ahead, between the branches, into the gloom. The last of the day's slight, slipping in through the leaves and vines above, made soft, pale shifting shapes on their hands and on the ground beneath. After a long way, the structure of the dome opened up onto a green glade, surrounded by dense undergrowth on all sides. No one would walk here casually, and if he and Túrin didn't stand up, no one would be able to see them from outside the enclosure. The glade was also hidden, but there was more room to stretch out, and even lie down. It was a fine place for a nap, with soft earth and open sky above. Clusters of flowers grew in profusion, along with tufts of dense grass. Thranduil and Túrin admired their new hiding place in silence, while birds sang in the trees overhead. It was not yet true night, only early twilight. The birds would keep singing a little longer.

"I come here sometimes when I want to be alone," Thranduil said. In the past days and weeks, he had formulated an ever-growing list of questions he would like to ask the Adan, but he did not ask a single one of them now.

Túrin nodded again, lowering his gaze. He reached down and ran his fingers through the grass. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Everyone's looking for you," said Thranduil. "They must be worried."

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry. They shouldn't worry. I don't know why I—" He broke off, closing his eyes.

"It's all right. No one will be angry with you," Thranduil reassured him quickly, moved by Túrin's pained expression. "I'm not angry. I've been waiting to meet you. I've never met an Adan before."

Túrin's eyes reopened, slowly. "Never?"

Thranduil inclined his head in confirmation. "Never."

"I hadn't really met Elves before," said Túrin.

"But now you have. You've met Beleg, and King Thingol, and me. Everyone's happy you're here, that's why they're worried. But we don't have to go back right away. We can wait until you feel better." He cast about the glade, looking for something else he could show the Adan, to cheer him. Along with the two of them, the glade was bursting with life, all the usual green and growing things, rising from the earth and insisting on themselves… "Here—I'll make you something."

"Make me what—?"

"Look." Thranduil's gaze went to a stand of nearby pale purple flowers. These particular blossoms were edible and often harvested. It would do no harm to take a few, especially at this time of year. Quickly, he plucked a few of them, leaving a length of green stem on each. Once he had gathered enough, he wove them together. Flowers and grasses were easy to weave, especially into a circle. When they were joined, he tapped them with his fingers. He could feel the energy moving through the blooms and stems. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on that living force, pressing the separate strands of it into one: forging it into a single, singing ring and willing the flowers—live, preserve. They were no longer separate blooms; they had become a single entity. Their petals, which had been in the first stage of wilting, straightened with pride, made fresh and new. It was such a simple thing to do, yet Túrin was wide-eyed and rapt, staring at his hands as if he had performed a wonder. "A crown for you, Prince Túrin." Thranduil reached out and settled the circlet of blooms on Túrin's head.

Finally, Túrin smiled at him. Thranduil smiled back.

They did not stay long, alone in that green glade together, hidden by a conspiracy of leaves and vines and branches. They were never meant to stay long. The world outside was waiting for them to emerge. While the sun receded and the stars began to show themselves—one by one at first, then all at once, like a rain of jewels scattering across the sky—they played and laughed for a few moments.

As Thranduil predicted, when they returned to Menegroth, Túrin did not receive a single scolding. Thingol wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Beleg was as impressed by Thranduil's skills as Thranduil had hoped. He praised Thranduil for his skill in tracking, and said he could visit Túrin whenever he wanted. Eventually, he was able to ask Túrin every question on his extensive list.

Many long years later, tragedy faded into myth for so many, but not for those who were there. Thranduil rarely listened to the sad songs that touched on the subject of Túrin Turambar, but when a certain mood was on him, he would ask the harpers to play one of the few he approved of. Thranduil had grown very old. Seated on his throne, wearing his own heavy crown, he would lean back and remember the smile of a young boy with his dark hair full of flowers.

[theoppositeofprofound]

Silmarillion Ask: 19!

You get to save one character from dying. What would they do instead?

This question is clearly meant to be read as “what if you could save one character from their Tolkien appointed doom to live out the rest of their life” but I’m choosing to interpret it as “what if you could stop one character from dying, period, they are immortal and unending now” in which case the answer is obviously one of the Men. Just one, to keep everyone guessing.

Bëor is at the top of the list, since he’d doubtless have good comments on everything, but I think it would get the elves hopes up a bit too much if one of the first humans they met didn’t die. They’d keep trying to figure out how to repeat it. And while this would lead to more elf-human cohabitation and kissing, it would also be very sad. Plus I think Bëor would eventually get depressed seeing all his descendants die. He’d definitely go on the Silmaril quest and watch Finrod get wolfed and it would be no fun for anyone.

I think Andreth would have a much better time as an immortal. Maybe you can justify it as Aegnor swapping fates with her after his death, out of love. She’d still be an old lady but she’d be an old lady with new vigor, with elven light in her eyes and a cane to whack people with. If she travels with Morwen after her marriage, I don’t think Morgoth’s forces actually hold Dor-lómin very well. If she stays in Estolad she argues the refugee Feanorians into leaving again after the Nirnaeth (she’d destroy Curufin over his treatment of Finrod, only she’s allowed to be difficult with him, he’s a gentle soul! a precious, wolf-slaying, innocent flower!) I won’t go so far as to say she could salvage the Túrin situation but she could certainly have some interesting conversations with him. She ends up as Elros’ best advisor, and then, after being exiled by the King’s Men, settles in Rivendell (Lothlorien was offered but the memories still hurt) and trounces Bilbo at checkers for a few decades.

Finally, the option that upends the plot the most, Beren. He doesn’t die the first time or the second time. Without her experience in Mandos Lúthien continues on as we see her for most of her story; off the chain and out for blood. There is no retiring to a nice little island, they don’t have any excuse for that now, so they stay political entities. Beren’s desire to be a house husband conflicts slightly with his desire to spite Morgoth when the Union of Maedhros rolls around, and, sensing weakness, Fingon and Maedhros make Celegorm+Curufin send coerced apologies. Beren and Lúthien agree that it would be very funny if they had to treat with them as allies so Beren accompanies the (still small) Doriath contingent to battle. The outcome of the battle doesn’t change but Lúthien’s fury when her husband comes home injured expands the Girdle by leagues. Because human-in-law is home Doriath takes in a lot more war refugees, still including Túrin (who gets raised next to Dior by an actual human) but others as well. The power of a less elvish, less intense upbringing with successfully empowers him to fight fate and ignore his curse. Nargothrond still inevitably falls but less messily. Thingol still dies but his successor is better supported. Doriath, I think, holds, even in the face of attempted violence from Morgoth and Maedhros’ factions. This might not be better in the long run because the Silmaril is stuck there, growing into Lúthien, an extension of her flesh and her husband’s. One protected, forest walled, city, even a more multicultural one amidst abject ruin is not a great And I think Beren and Lúthien deserve their death, their rest, their adventure. But it would change the story a lot.

My final vote is for Nienor. Not because it would be a good time for her but because she has big ‘ghostly woman by the river tells you that no matter how hard you seek out your fate, you cannot stop your fate from seeking you’ potential and I think not-dying would really allow her to capitalize on this. Eventually she’d stumble onto Goldberry and Tom Bombadil and they’d trade nonsense (jovial) and nonsense (foreboding) until they moved in together, an otherwise happy arrangement darkened by her lasting suspicion that one of them is related to her.

[jengajives]

Needed some emotionals so I rewrote Beleg’s death scene

A gathering thunderstorm was perfect weather for a rescue. Nice and dark, with the distant rumble in the sky drowning out any less-than-stealthy noises. Gwindor was very much less-than-stealthy, but Beleg couldn’t really blame him, and a well-trained elf’s poor stealth was still much quieter than anything a Man could manage- or, Valar forbid, a dwarf.

And it wasn’t Gwindor’s fault he walked with a very loud limp, and no one was near enough to hear them anyway.

The orc-camp was still, with the sentinels dead and all the soldiers passed out in varying states of inebriation.

The two elves crept to the far side of camp uninterrupted, and at last Beleg got to look on Túrin’s face again.

The Man’s face was stark and hollow, his skin clammy as he lay there limp against the withered tree trunk he’d been chained to with black iron. He still wore the simple clothing he’d had on that night so long ago on Amon Rûdh. It felt as though a lifetime had passed since then, all of searching, desperate and nearly hopeless, and yet here Beleg knelt, with Túrin alive and whole before him.

“Túrin,” he said softly, reaching up a hand to brush the tangles of dark hair from his motionless face. “Melethen. Can you hear me?”

He tried not to look at the blades stuck into the cracked wood around where Túrin slumped, or the bruises and blood smeared across the Man’s face, or the grey at the sides of his unkempt beard. He didn’t want to imagine how Túrin had suffered alone.

Beleg tried again. Túrin’s face was feverishly hot when he took it into his hands and raised it.

“Melethen, wake up.”

Just behind him, Gwindor cowered at a sudden crack of thunder. His dark eyes darted, terrified, back to the pile of snoozing orcs not too far away.

“Cúthalion,” he whimpered. “They won’t stay asleep forever...”

“He’s sick.” Beleg pressed a hand to Túrin’s forehead and muttered some simple mantra he’d heard Luthien using once. The only reaction was a slight stirring beneath the eyelids, but that was all. Túrin remained limp and unresponsive, and his breathing came slow but steady. Beleg turned his attention to the chains.

“You’ll have to help me carry him,” he said softly, drawing Anglachel from its sheath as quietly as he could. The black blade seemed to flash in the night darkness, stars wheeling upon its blade. No doubt it would be sharp enough to cut through.

The wind lifted, washing the scent of rain over the camp. As Beleg pried at the chain wrapped around the tree trunk, and slowly the metal began to bend.

Gwindor looked up again, panicked, when one of the guards snorted. His icy fingers gripped Beleg’s sleeve.

“We need to go now.”

“We aren’t leaving without him.”

Finally the first chain snapped and rattled lifelessly to the ground, but there was still the matter of the cords around Túrin’s wrists and ankles. Beleg was stooping to begin cutting these when at last, the long-threatened rain began to fall.

Gwindor let out a sound like a punctured bellows and gripped tighter.

“Cúthalion...”

Beleg didn’t provide a direct answer, because he was too busy getting his arms around Túrin’s torso to try and lift him.

“Get his legs.”

Despite the way he was trembling, Gwindor did so, and together the two of them hefted the unconscious man and started the short trek out of camp. The hills were not so steep here, but still it was difficult to get far in the slick of rain, carrying such a burden; despite his captivity thinning him considerably, Túrin was still quite dense and very heavy. They couldn’t have carried him long even in the best conditions.

Still, Gwindor gave a terrified hiss when Beleg stopped at the top of the nearest foothill and lowered Túrin gently to the ground.

“This isn’t far enough! They’ll find us, and they’ll take us back to Him-“

“Gwindor,” Beleg said in his warmest, calmest voice. He met Gwindor’s wavering brown eyes with a simple confidence. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

For a moment in the rain there was stillness, and Gwindor’s face slowly softened as the warmth of those eyes filled him.

Then, on the ground at their feet, Túrin made a sound like a light moan of agony, and Beleg’s calming gaze immediately snapped downward.

“We cannot bear him further,” he mumbled, distracted now, as, he dropped to his knees and, again, tried his hardest to rouse the Man. “If I can wake him, he might have the strength to follow us beyond the foothills. That’s our best hope.”

“Hurry,” Gwindor said, glancing over his shoulder again. Beleg didn’t respond. He pressed a hand to Túrin’s cheek, a horrible mix of relief and fear twisting gleefully in his stomach. Túrin was alive and safe, but if he didn’t wake up, Beleg might not be able to keep him that way, and the three of them could all very well be dragged to Angband and broken. What was Beleg supposed to do then? If he led these two poor souls back to torment, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

Again, Beleg reached up and grasped Anglachel’s hilt, drawing the sword carefully from his back. He lifted Túrin’s bound wrists and very cautiously began to slide the blade through the thick cords holding him, cursing himself now for want of a dagger.

As soon as his wrists were free, Beleg moved down and put a hand on his calf, holding it gently in place as he brought his sword around, a nervousness settling into his belly, because the idea that Túrin wouldn’t wake up at all had just crossed his mind.

He wiped the rainwater from his eyes and mumbled, more to reassure himself than Túrin.

“Don’t worry, melethen. I’ll take care of you... You’re going to be fine.”

Thunder rumbled across the sky like the toll of an awful bell. Gwindor covered his ears and threw himself to the ground as the deafening crackle broke over their heads.

Beleg’s hand slipped, just a bit, as Anglachel came through the cords, so it caught skin on the way out.

A little gash on Túrin’s ankle, already beginning to drip a watery pink.

The blade seemed to flash with some unseen light as Beleg cursed softly, pushing the cut bonds aside so he could get a better look at what he’d done, but before he got too far, he felt a distinctive shift beneath his hand.

Túrin was moving.

A delight flooded Beleg’s mind so quickly it made him dizzy.

The images of the two of them going south again, finding safe and familiar woods, played eagerly before his eyes. Beleg tending to his sweetheart until Túrin’s strength returned and his torment was forgotten. Returning to Menegroth together, and Túrin reclaiming what he’d abandoned, and becoming an honored and beloved prince again. Beleg properly asking Thingol for his foster son’s hand.

The two of them living the life they were meant to live, defying the shadow.

There was a giddy smile on his face when he turned towards Túrin. It was easy for him to see through the gloom, but his companion might not be able to, so Beleg reached down to touch Túrin’s face and reassure him with a familiar touch.

Only, the expression he saw through the darkness was a mask of terror and rage, and before his smile even had time to soften, Túrin had grabbed him, same remarkable strength in his hands even after all this time, and pushed him into the muddy ground, holding him there as fingers grasped madly for the sword in Beleg’s hand.

He could not recognize Túrin’s face.

The sword was wrenched from him, but he followed and caught wrist, and a weird sort of panic set in when he saw the mania in those black eyes. The rage of someone who thought he was defending his life against some awful foe.

The panic and the pity swirled around together in his head. Imagining the pain Túrin must have endured to look as feral as he did now, thoughtless to anything but his own defense. It was only surprise in his voice though, when he finally got a word from his faltering throat.

“Túri-“

Abruptly then, there was no more space for air in his lungs, and his brain alerted lazily to a pain in his chest that it didn’t seem too keen on processing.

The panicked, frenzied breathing overhead did not slow, but Beleg heard a rather strange gurgle from his own throat, and then the pain twisted inside him, and the ability to make any sound at all left him.

Túrin knelt over him, heaving with the effort of breath, clutching Anglachel’s hilt. The blade passed directly through Beleg’s heart, with the tip buried six inches into the mud beneath his back.

Such madness in those familiar eyes. A snarl where a loving smile ought to be.

Beleg’s chest made an odd crackling when he tried to breathe, and when he tried to raise a hand to Túrin’s face, it only made his fingers twitch weirdly.

He realized he was dying only when he found he could no longer close his eyes.

He could not recognize Túrin’s face.

But he saw the terror squirming in his eyes like rot, and he understood, before the end, and he forgave.

When the flash of lightning came at last, Gwindor already knew Beleg was dead, because he’d heard the last breath leave through mangled lungs, and nothing else return.

He didn’t want to see what the body actually looked like because he didn’t think he’d be able to look death in the eyes again, and he also did not want the Man to see and kill him too.

But when the white light came, Gwindor did carefully raise his head, though when he saw the expression on Túrin’s face, he wished he hadn’t.

Beleg had said quite a lot about Húrin’s son since he first found Gwindor and roused him from his despair. He’d heard of the courageous and hardy companion-in-arms, and the careful strategist, and the lover, kind and gentle as could be.

But in that moment Gwindor saw only an animal wounded and afraid, and a Man who had committed the unspeakable.

The gaunt, horrified look on his face was probably the most horrible thing Gwindor had ever seen outside of Angband. The slow dread of looking down at Beleg’s face and realizing he had done this and there was no going back, no changing it, and the horror of that realization would not leave his eyes, nor would the rage with himself, with his imagined foes, or the terror planted there in the root of him as the orcs howled far below, but no expression could make more headway than that of pure despair.

It was so awful than Gwindor lowered his head again and tucked his arms over it to try and block out whatever he could.

He didn’t know where to go without Beleg. What to do. There wasn’t a chance for them alone with all those orcs searching- soon enough they’d both end up dead, and all of Gwindor’s suffering would be for naught.

He waited until his heartbeat was somewhat steady, then he slowly lifted his head just enough to see if Túrin had run off in his madness yet.

He hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all. His face had barely shifted.

“Túrin,” Gwindor breathed, cautiously reaching out a trembling hand until a lightning strike made him hastily pull it back.

The hills lit up stark white. Far below, orcs were swarming about themselves like terrified insects. The sight made his stomach crawl.

“Túrin, we need to move,” he whimpered, and this time he did properly reach out and touch the Man’s shoulder as gently as he could manage. “They’ll find us here...”

There was no reaction. Túrin hadn’t turned from Beleg. When Gwindor chanced a glance down at the body, he saw a bloody hand resting against Beleg’s cheek, and the thumb slowly stroking back and forth, methodical. The soft green eyes were wide open and stared up at the thunderclouds darkening the sky.

When he looked very closely, Gwindor could see Túrin’s eyes darting to and from different parts of the dead elf’s face, searching desperately for something he wouldn’t find.

Gwindor tightened his grip and gave the shoulder a pull.

“We need to go!”

Still Túrin didn’t stir. He hadn’t even acknowledged yet that Gwindor was there.

For a brief moment, Gwindor considered fleeing up into the highlands alone, but the idea disintegrated when he looked down again at Beleg.

The first face to show him kindness in who-knew-how many years- kindness he didn’t even deserve. The hands that had carefully lifted the net of despair from his mind and returned him to hope- hope for this Man, who Cúthalion had treasured above all else.

Gwindor couldn’t leave him here like this. He couldn’t leave Beleg, nor could he leave Túrin, for Beleg’s sake.

The last thing Cúthalion wanted to do was keep Túrin safe, so Gwindor would be the one to do it.

If he could never really feel clean touching the hands that took Beleg Cúthalion from this world, then so be it.

Slowly he got to his feet and limped to the edge of the dell so he could keep a better eye on the orcs down below.

Behind him, Beleg and Túrin were still as two statues in the downpour.

[arofili]

#45, kidnap fam?

(Dear anon: I’m sorry.)

~

45. “How much of that did you hear?” Maglor asked quietly.

Elrond looked up at him, his eyes hard. “Enough.”

Maglor nodded, closing his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “We sent you away for a reason.”

“Well, I am here.” Elrond sighed. “Atar...you don’t have to do this.”

He laughed hollowly. “You heard me. I tried. But Maedhros...he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. You know our curse, yonya. If we don’t try we will be consumed, turned to worse things. Like we did to you.”

“You made up for it,” Elrond said fiercely. “You must know that.”

“I wish I did.” Maglor looked up into the sky, where Gil-Estel shone bright and damning. “Your father has one Silmaril. Your real father, I mean. Your other fathers...we must have the other two.”

“Atar,” Elrond blurted out, “I came to ask you to come to Valinor with me.”

Maglor stilled. “You’re going to Valinor?”

“If you will come with me, yes.”

“And Elros? What about him?” Maglor looked up at him again, something undefinable glittering in his eyes. “Where is he? He didn’t come with you.”

“Where’s Maedhros?” Elrond asked. He grimaced. “Elros is...busy. Like Atya.”

“Your atya is drowning his sorrows and preparing for a Fourth Kinslaying.” Maglor clenched his fist. “I certainly hope Elros is not.”

“We were offered a choice,” Elrond said, looking at his feet. “Of which kindred we shall be counted as. They said—the Valar said that if we chose mortality, they would give us a land, a blessed land, to the West. Not the Blessed Land,” he added hastily, “not Valinor. But we could take what remains of the Edain and find a new place to live.”

“Beleriand is certainly not habitable anymore.” Maglor nodded, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. “And if you chose Elvendom...?”

“We could go West, to the Uttermost West, and live in bliss in Aman.” Elrond’s voice was tinged with longing. “Like you, when you grew up.”

“There is a reason we are here now,” Maglor reminded him.

“And you want to stay?” Elrond demanded.

Maglor laughed bitterly. “I have no choice, unlike you.”

“If you forsake this madness, convince Atya—”

“Maedhros will not be convinced. You heard, Elrond. He has been a captive once; he would kill himself before he faces such a fate again.”

“The Valar are not like Morgoth!” Elrond protested. “They would not—”

“Let me remind you which of us was raised in the Blessed Realm,” Maglor said flatly. “This choice of yours, it was offered by Námo, was it not?”

“...Yes. And Manwë.”

“Námo the Doomsayer. Námo who cursed all Noldor who followed my father. Námo who holds my father, and all my brothers save Maedhros, in his keeping even now!” Maglor’s voice grew heated. “No, Elrond. This choice—it is not just. You are peredhil; why must you decide which kindred is better? You are both.”

“I chose Elvendom,” Elrond snapped.

Relief washed over Maglor, dispersing a fear he had not realized he held. Good. He may be damned, but at least his sons would be safe, and live eternal. Aman was not so bad a place, after all. He wanted to go back, wanted to join the peredhil and see his mother again, even at the cost of the Valar’s judgement—he was so tempted by Elrond’s offer.

But Maedhros would not go, not even if asked by Elrond, and Maglor would not abandon Maedhros. Not again.

“Then go,” Maglor rasped. “You and Elros—you have not wronged the Valar as we have. Go with them to Valinor, and live in peace. You will be happy there.”

“I can’t,” Elrond whispered, a single tear streaming down his face. “I can’t go alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Maglor said. “Even without us...your parents will be there, your real parents. And you will always have Elros.” As much as this conversation hurt, he longed to see Elros again, wished he had come with Elrond.

“I have already lost him!” Elrond wailed, falling into Maglor’s arms. “He—he chose mortality!”

Maglor held him tight, cradling his son like he had when he was a child, though he neared adulthood now. Numb shock overcame him: how could Elros do this? How could he abandon Elrond? Did he not know the pain his fathers had endured for their brothers’ sake, the soul-rending torment of Ambarussa sundered from one another this long age, how utterly this could destroy them both?

Mortality. He would take that kingdom offered by the Valar, lead the Edain, and for what? A life lived in the blink of an elvish eye? The promise of...something, beyond the boundaries of Arda? His grandmother Lúthien’s legacy, to doom his family like she doomed hers? Thingol had not outlived his daughter; would Maglor survive this loss? Daeron, her brother, Maglor’s onetime-lover, had lost himself in his grief; would Elrond be able to endure the long ages of Arda alone?

“It’s selfish,” Elrond wept, “he chose first! We’ve been living with the Edain, when Gil-galad is too busy to mind us, and they’re good folk, they love us, they love him, and he told me how much he wants to know what is beyond Arda. He says he feels his mortality in his blood, that no matter how we study, elves will never know! He was so studious, I was the wild one, you know this, and he’s—he’s pursuing knowledge, just like you taught us, knowledge over glory and eternity, and I told him it was a worthy choice, a good one, and then I chose Elvendom.”

Maglor had no words to comfort him, still reeling with shock and horror. “He...he will die?” he rasped. “And we will lose him forever?”

“I could have followed him, gone with him,” Elrond sobbed. “But I am a coward. I want peace and light and the easy way out. But now I will be alone, and Eärendil will sail the skies and Elwing sits in her white tower doing nothing but mourn and you and Atya are going to get yourselves killed or worse chasing the fucking Silmarils!”

Elrond tore himself away from Maglor, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice cracking. Maglor could scarcely stand to look at him: he was so young, and already faced with so much pain. Such were the children born in Beleriand. And so much of that pain was Maglor’s own fault.

“Please, Atar,” Elrond begged. “Please listen to Eonwë. Come to Valinor with me, I will plead for you, and you and Atya can be freed of your Oath and I can have a family there. Please.”

“We cannot,” rumbled a new voice, and Maglor jumped. Maedhros walked out of the shadows, his red hair, once so burning bright, dark and matted with sweat and blood.

“Atya, please—”

“You should not have come, Elrond.” Maedhros used to be so beautiful, once. It broke Maglor’s heart to see him like this. Even after Angband, he had been beautiful, for he shone with purpose and love. Now...even with Maglor here, even with Elrond here, that was all gone. Only the Oath kept him living, Maglor knew.

“Where will I go?” Elrond cried. “Without you, without Elros—what will I do?”

“Gil-galad will not give up his kingship for Valinor,” Maedhros intoned, his voice flat. “Go with him to the east. Celebrimbor is going with him; he wrote inviting us to join him, if we would but forsake the Oath.”

Maglor had not known that. He flashed a look to Maedhros, asking without words if he had been planning on sharing that information. But Maedhros didn’t blink, didn’t acknowledge him.

“Gil-galad... Gil is your brother,” Maglor said softly. “You know that, right?”

Elrond looked between them. “He is Fingon’s son, not yours.”

Maglor bit his lip until it bled. It was low, dirty of him to use Fingon against Maedhros at a time like this, but if it would convince him...

Maedhros blanched, turning pale white beneath the web of scars across his face. “This is cruel of you, Makalaurë,” he rasped, still not turning to look at him. “I thought better of you.”

“You—” Elrond broke off. Maglor saw him calculating in his mind; truly, it was not that difficult to figure out, though Fingon was never spoken of in Maedhros’ earshot, and thus he had been forced to learn of his deeds thirdhand. “You and him—and Gil-galad—oh.”

“He will want a herald. I heard his was slain in the last battle.” Maedhros was back to monotone. “Go east with him.” He shook his head. “Elrond, I...”

“Atya?”

Maedhros looked on the verge of saying something heartfelt. Maglor gripped Elrond’s wrist, hoping, yearning for some spark of the brother he loved to flicker back to life.

But Maedhros’ eyes only darkened. “I wish I could choose to unmake myself as Elros has,” he said. “It would be easier.” Without another word he retreated, leaving Elrond and Maglor staring dumbfounded after him.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Maglor said tiredly, but his words did not even fool himself.

“I understand now,” Elrond murmured. “I...you’re right, Atar, I should not have come.”

“Elrond...” Maglor wiped at his eyes. “I am sorry. Truly. For everything we have done to you. You—oh, child, you deserve better than the lot you have been dealt.”

“I have plenty of time left to make something better out of it.” His words were dull. “Gil-galad will take me, but...he cannot replace Elros. He doesn’t even know me as his brother.”

“He will. He will love you, Elrond. Who couldn’t?”

Elrond looked at him, the full force of his betrayal shining through his tears. “I can think of a few people,” he whispered.

If Maglor’s heart had not already been shattered into countless pieces, it would have broken then.

“Goodbye, yonya,” he mustered, and Elrond gave him one last embrace.

He could not bring himself to wish his son joy. It would only serve as a last reminder of all they both had lost.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Leithian Reread - Canto V (Lúthien in Doriath)

Disclaimer: A ton of this is inspired by Philosopher at Large’s notes on The Leithian Script.

What is Melian Thinking?

Melian’s role in this canto is particularly interesting. She tells Lúthien - but not until asked - that Beren has been captured by Sauron (called Thû in this early version). She offers nothing to either help or hinder Lúthien from acting; she doesn’t take a stand against Thingol imprisoning her in Hirílorn; but she also does nothing to impede Lúthien’s escape.

If she just wanted her daughter to stay home and be safe, she could have either lied to her about Beren or refused to say anything at all. She chose to tell Lúthien that he was in danger, and she said nothing about it when Lúthien voiced her intent to go rescue him. There are also signs from the previous canto that she’s on the couple’s side. It’s when Beren, overwhelmed and imtimidated by the beauty of Menegroth, looks into Melian’s eyes that he finds the words to answer Thingol. Melian also, from her warning to Thingol at the end of Canto III, has some foresight of where the Quest of the Silmaril will lead.

So I think there are several things going on in her mind at the moment. First, she knows, with the insight of the Ainur, that Lúthien’s and Beren’s choices and actions are integral in some way to the fate of the world. They will join the lineages of Elves and Men for the first time; they will lead to the War of Wrath and the defeat of Morgoth; and they will provide foreshadowing for far greater things to come. Second, she is a mother, and she knows that Lúthien will suffer from her choices, and that Melian may lose her. And thirdly, she knows that Lúthien’s choices and actions need to be Lúthien’s, and that Melian can’t helicopter-parent her way through this, in the same way that Gandalf can’t attempt to single-handedly win the War of the Ring (or that Melian can’t just outright stop Thingol from doing all the stupid thungs he does); she can only play a supporting role, because the free will and free action of the Eruhini, vis-a-vis the Ainur, is sacrosanct. And knowing all of this must be incredibly painful and difficult for her.

What is Thingol Thinking?

This canto and the previous one are easily Thingol’s worst moments. On the surface, his actions can almost look reasonable - if your kid came to you and said “Well, I’m off to North Korea to rescue my boyfriend from jail there!”, then “You’re grounded (because I don’t want you dead or imprisoned)” would be at least an understandable response. But that interpretation would have to disregard that 1) Thingol’s the one responsible for sending her boyfriend to Fantasy North Korea; 2) Lúthien is not a kid; she is many thousands of years old (Melkor was chained in the Halls of Mandos for three ages of the Trees; she was born at the end of the first of those ages. She may well be older than Fëanor, not that he was any exemplar of good decision-making); and 3) Thingol is the most powerful Elven-king in Beleriand at the moment, and if wanted to find a way to prevent Lúthien from endangering herself and leave her free, a Sindarin assault on Tol-in-Gaurhoth would arguably be feasible.

There’s a great marginal note (author unknown), in response to Thingol’s line to Lúthien (O maiden fair, what that thee led to ponder madness and despair, to wander to ruin and to fare from Doriath against my will, stealing like a wild thing men would kill into the emptiness outside?) where the critic writes, “Thingol is here being rather obtuse.” I love the critic’s sass! (Lúthien’s answer to saud question from Thingol - Thy wisdom, father - is equally wonderful in terms of sass.) Tolkien responds to the note, “But he could not believe she loved Beren - unless some evil spell had somehow been laid on her.” And that’s the root of it. Thingol, faced with a daughter who is millennia old, knowledgeable, thoughtful, and skilled (her healing abilities didn’t just spontaneously appear - battlefield medicine takes practice! - which means she’s seen serious injury and war-wounds before), decides that the only explanation for her choosing someone he opposes is that she must be mad, irrational, or enchanted. And he decides the best thing to do is lock her up and leave her boyfriend to die.

There’s also the question of whether Thingol knows, at this point, that Beren went to Nargothrond and that Finrod has also been captured. He’s got to have some sources of intel beyond Doriath’s borders, and I would think Melian would also be able to tell him. But we can’t know. So we don’t know if he’s deliberately deciding to let his nephew be collateral damage, or if that’s something he doesn’t learn about until he gets Celegorm’s letter.

What is Lúthien Thinking?

Lúthien’s thought processes here are fairly simple. She loves Beren; Beren is in danger; no one else cares or is willing to act; so she has to go. And I think this is key to why the Quest of the Silmaril succeeds. She’s not acting out of a desire for vengeance or renown or treasure, but out of love. And she’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s doing this because, like Frodo at the moment he accepts to take the Ring to Mordor, it needs to be done and there is no one else to do it, even though she regards herself as entirely unqualified. (It’s easy to dismiss Lúthien’s achievements during the Quest with oh, well, she’s a demigoddess, but at the time she walks up to Tol-in-Gaurhoth, or into Angband, she’s desperate, completely out of her league, and doesn’t know what she’s doing. Her actions are immensely brave, and she takes all of them with no reason to believe she has a chance of winning.)

She does, however, have very deep knowledge of magic. And the scene here is unlike almost any other depiction of magic in Tolkien’s works. For the most part, what mortals call ‘magic’ is just the much deeper connection with the world that Elves possess, or the powers that are part of the nature of the Ainur, plus a few brief worded spells (mostly fire-related) from Gandalf. Lúthien’s magic here includes both ritual (river water drawn at midnight in a silver bowl and brought silently; wine brought at noon in a golden jar with flower imagery, while singing merrily) and incantation. And this kind of magic is apparently common enough in Doriath, or from Lúthien, that it doesn’t set off alarm bells for anyone.

And the incantation itself is a thing of immense power. It is in the form of song, the source of all creation in Arda. It begins with reinforcing the symbolic references of the water and wine (water/silver/night/darkness/freedom; wine/gold/day/growth), continues on to invoke height/length to make her hair grow (including both references to the Ainur and their works, including Uinen and the chain Angainor, and to darker things like Draugliun and Glaurung), and concludes with a theme of sleep. The artifact she creates is a craft-work of great power and complexity and one that is, interestingly, made of herself. And it’s a lot of work! It isn’t made by magic alone; she still has to spin and weave it.

And this draws me to something I only just realized in thinking about this chapter. Lúthien’s magic and song and deeds, over the course of the Leithian, recall all of the Valië. Here, with the creation of thhe cloak, we have the themes of life/growth (Yavanna and Vana) and night (Varda); we also have weaving (Vairë). Lúthien’s song on the night she and Beren meet each other (her song unlocked the sudden spring, in Aragorn’s rendition of the Leithian) also recalls Vana. Her dance, which is an integral part of her magic both in Doriath and in the final confrontation in Angband, rerences Nessa. Her healing references Estë. And her final song before Namó, moving him to pity for the only time in history, recalls Nienna, lady of pity. In addition to being herself, she’s a summation, a drawing together, of female power in Arda.

I really love her. Her guts, her defiance, her intelligence, her determination, her bravery.

[kendrixtermina]

Assorted House of Feanor Thoughts

I wrote this as a reply to someone, but then realized that this should be a post of its own. 

Line between extrapolation, interpretation & headcanon is going to be fluid here

Long post under cut

The seven sons in general:

all moody, fierce, intense and brilliant, each in various different ways

none of them can really stand to be cooped up in one place for long

F R E C K L E S you will not convince me otherwise

Apart from the ones explicitly described as pretty (ie, Maedhros and Celegorm) they’re actually relatively plain by elf standards, or at least sort of rugged-looking, especially compared to their part-Vanyar cousins - I mean, figures that some would turn out more like Miriel or Nerdanel both of which were supposedly more average.

all are very resourceful having spent most of their lives helping out with their parent’s projects, exploring the wilderness, or (save for Celegorm) hanging out in Aule’s halls. Most can probably whip up a steampunk or magitech solution to basic war-related problems

Because of this they’re a very tight-knit group

growing up, they did not know many children their age; Ironically the most contact they had was with their cousins because Feanor paid semi-regular visits to Finwe. Apart from Turgon (and Orodreth if you place him in the second rather than the third post-journey generation) the cousins really dug the adventure stories. (Galadriel pretended not to be interested and offered plenty of critiques, but listened anyways)

more survival skills and just a lot more casual than your average princes

They’d all been adults for a good while by the time of the rebellion; the twins are a tad older than Aredhel, Galadriel and Argon; Caranthir and Angrod are about the same age. Curufin is younger than Aegnor.

They all look back at that trip to the lightless shore of the outer sea as a cherished family memory

Also I don’t think Feanor disciplined his sons very much after all his own father let him get away with everything. In his eyes the brats can do no wrong especially not Curufin and to a lesser extent Amrod Nerdanel tried her best to counterbalance this and it kind of worked on some of them, but the three middle ones were a lost cause

I think a lot of the weight behind the oath comes from how Feanor made them promise him to see it through on his deathbed. It was his literal last wish.

Maedhros:

The Leader™, the most strong-willed and the deadliest fighter by a huge margin. What the orc under your bed has nightmares about.

Obviously a very competent diplomat, strategist, and the sort to put constructive results over personal glory; resilient, formidable, unpretentious and tough as leather

but not at all overconfident, and the type who is not blind to the flaws of the people he loves. He knows very well that Feanor wasn’t perfect and does many things that his father would not have agreed with - at the same time he has a strong sense of obligation, honor and loyalty which turns out to be his fatal flaw in the end when being loyal and keeping his word  increasingly requires him to do dishonorable things

if there was a definite breaking point it was the fiasco with Dior’s sons

Stoic but courteous and eloquent; From Finwe’s death onwards increasingly grim, grizzled and not very hopeful, though he’s the sort to give his all and try to be noble even when there’s no reward or even thanks or respect.

Despite this, he has as a dry sense of humor and at times uses it to defuse tense situations or disarm people he’s negotiating with (see the scene with Thingol’s message) - does have a streak of gallows humor to him especially after the Thangorodrim incident

As the heir Feanor actually let him in on trade secrets and scientific speculation; Their relationship is probably the most equal; I do think Feanor was capable of actually appreciating that Maedhros got a mind of his own and isn’t afraid to stand up for himself. Feanor values independent thought, even if he’s not always good at really living that value with his tendency to take things personally and see others as taking sides for or against him.  

Can’t really craft stuff to the same degree without his right hand. He then focussed on more abstract/mental pursuits which were perhaps his forte, to begin with but it still bothers him more than he lets on, especially since he still retains, or swiftly regained, his skill at making things dead. 

He may or may not qualify as a cinnamon roll but he definitely looks like could kill you

Maglor:

Maedhros might have been the token responsible sibling, but Maglor was the understanding, comforting one and always had a nurturing streak - hence why he was the one to take in the kids.

Sensitive Artistic Type™ - goes from quirky and passionate back in Valinor to melancholy & tormented as the war drags on

one of those people who despair over & get self-critical over their work even when it’s regarded as masterpieces

Like Feanor and Miriel before him, he tends to get super absorbed in his work/art and just plain disappears for days

Now some ppl hold that he didn’t start having second thoughts until near the end, but judging from how he comes along to Fingolfin’s party or to hang out with Finrod, I’d hold that he was always ‘the nice/gentle one’, but not solely in a positive way; Unlike Maedhros he did not stand up to Feanor about the thing with the ships and indeed lets Maedhros talk him out of turning himself in at the very end, so he’s probably somewhat lacking in assertiveness

Even so, he’s probably one of the better fighters, given the difficult territory he gets, that he’s the one to kill Ulfang, and how long he survives. He probably feels ambivalent about this. 

I imagine him having an agility-based fighting style

Probably codified the heroic epos as a specifically Noldorin art form

Celegorm:

A lot of ppl focus on the barbarian aspect, but I’d say he actually has some degree of ‘subverted prince charming’ going on, with how he sweet-talks Luthien at first before throwing her in the dungeon, and how he seems to have been one of the more accomplished ones, joining a respected order and all

He’s actually pretty elegant and perhaps playfully gallant, but it’s a facade; He’s an animal underneath; though his instincts are probably somewhat nobler than what ends up happening when he gets roped into Curufin’s schemes

usually, the first to react and leap into action when something happens.

Herculean strength, daunting presence

also a fairly efficient general, if a bit of a glory hound and pretty fearless in the pursuit of victory

very much has an ego and doesn’t like being humbled at all

Strikes me as the sort of person who would take badly to the realization that they can no longer return to the glory of the past or being judged unworthy, not that he’d respond with anything but defiance

Wrestles giant monsters barehanded

Always low-key wished to fight creatures of darkness before the rebellion to test his might against them; Orome and the Maiar members of the hunt would have told stories of them

though he gets his pretty face from Daddy, his strong build comes from Nerdanel, possibly somewhat accentuated by his being a dude

Caranthir:

grumpy, moody, no filter, likes his alone time, shows his feelings mostly through actions, also somewhat pragmatic

the quartermaster; Actually one of the smarter ones, if not outright the second smartest after Curufin, though he has more a logistic/administrative sort of intelligence

generally one of the more prosaic, practical family members, or maybe he’s just more subtle about his dramatic side or has a harder time expressing it. Definitely has Hidden Dephts™

I mean, putting your hideout on the slope of a mountain near a deep, dark lake circled by mountains? Goth AF. A+ aesthetic there.

Hosts the family get-togethers at his fortress. Has most certainly shoved Celegorm and Curufin in the lake at some point

has a certain respect for strength, valor and skill even in ppl he doesn’t necessarily like; Not at all diplomatic or polite, but also not finicky or fastidious, so actually forged a whole lot of alliances on a “everyone’s money/swords are equally good and we don’t have to set conditions” basis and seems to have been pretty successful at this

started out haughty but definitely learned to be more open-minded/ broaden his horizon over his time in Beleriand - but as no good deed goes unpunished, Ulfang happens

Whereas Curufin and Celegorm can put up a noble veneer but will totally stab you in the back if provoked, Caranthir’s sort of the opposite, in that he’s rude and quarrelsome on first contact but has a good heart deep down (see the Haladin incident) and doesn’t keep grudges long term once he’s done grumbling where Celegorm is sore loser and Curufin a spiteful twerp.

though personally, I don’t see Caranthir as trying to reign himself in. He wouldn’t really be known as “the harshest” in that case. Who was gonna teach him to behave himself, Feanor maybe? kek. 

Curufin:

We have a lot of actual dialogue & description for him - he has this characteristic little defiant smile, is often coldly contemptuous in tone, some level of ruthless pragmatism

has mild/vague foresight - nothing as impressive as what Finrod and Galadriel have, but he has it more or less to the degree that Feanor did.

actually pretty insightful, thought-through and political-minded in some ways, too bad he shares Feanor’s tendency for unwarranted suspicion and factionalism, as well as a tendency to just act on his own without checking with anyone

always either filthy from work or fully blinged-out and impeccably groomed, no in-between

more calculated and subtle than Feanor - not that Feanor ever needed calculation or subtlety since he could get by on sheer awe or intimidation. Celegorm and Maedhros have that same quality in spades and Curufin’s a little bit jealous

Not actually that much older than the twins, but always acted older than his age, especially once he heard that Feanor was the same

collects weapons, loves fancy horses, the most traditionally aristocratic of the seven

Got married relatively young; saw it as a matter of honor to further his family’s line

continued his scholarly pursuits in Beleriand; this is part of why he elected to share a territory with Celegorm

The last Celebrimbor ever heard of him was a magically sealed box filled with research notes he sent out in case he didn’t make it out alive

Did not take his parents’ estrangement well and is stubbornly salty toward Nerdanel (though deep down he misses her as much as his brothers if not more)

Frequently the Bad Influence/ Shoulder Devil to his brothers.

But when he gets excited about his research/craft he’s got this “exited cocky little boy” side to him that’s surprisingly pure. 

Only Nerdanel and possibly Celebrimbor’s mom are allowed to call him ‘Atarinke.’ His brothers might still use it when they’re teasing or scolding him. 

The Twins:

Every time a fic does something else with them than “generic prankster redheads” I cry with joy

We don’t have that many data points on them, but most of them suggest they’re every bit as fierce as their brothers

they’re somewhat aloof & mostly do their own thing;

As kids they’d mostly sit in a corner and play with each other. Possibly deliberately played up their identicalness as a kind of emo fashion statement / to fuck with people (”Should we do this Ambarussa?” - ”I don’t know, what do you think, Ambarussa?”)

never really gave up their semi-nomadic ways

Compared to Celegorm they probably more on stealth and precision than strength and bravado. They suddenly appear in front of you, and bam! You’ve got an arrow poking out of your face. Probably the ones scouting the perimeter of the camp.

Amras is a bit sassier, but it’s actually Amrod who’s a little bit braver.

Hardly ever argued until their parents’ estrangement; That led to quite a few quarrels between them.

For all his faults, Feanor made a point of doing things with each of them individually.

quietly nursing some level of pent-up despair and frustration until they push for the assault on Sirion

In the version where one of them dies, and then no one ever talks about it, - I imagine that the remaining one ended up cynical in a “let’s just get it ever with we’re already doomed after all’ kind of way

Bonus:

Celebrimbor

“Curiosity killed the cat but the second mouse gets the cheese” incarnate. He’s a sweet, excitable,  deeply good guy, but Curiosity is the strongest force within him, besides maybe “think of the potential”

very bold in his thinking, not held back by any conventional boundaries. This is partially why he ended up more independent than his father and uncles but ironically that might in a sense make him more similar to grandpa than any of them

Really looks like Feanor. Like, Arwen and Luthien level of resemblance. It takes ppl a bit to notice because of how different his general demeanor and surface-level personality is. 

Very scattered and absent-minded, prone to sudden flashes of inspiration, often shows up in some form of disarray

spent his adolescence at Formenos. Retained a certain affinity for wintery places ever since

He sensed something fishy about Sauron before long, but between wanting to avoid the family propensity for unwarranted suspicion and being tempted by all the possibilities of what he could do with that power/knowledge even if it did come from a fishy source, he didn’t act before it was too late - he can't have been fully clueless since he hid the three; There was definitely just a bit of actual seduction/forbidden fruit appeal in place there, whether to use the word “hubris” probably depends on your philosophy. 

He drops the ‘th’ once he renounces Curufin, but slips right back into the old habit when excited or exasperating. At some point during his rule of Eregion, he stops bothering to hide it - A similar thing happens when he’s talking Sindarin with his northeast Beleriand accent. 

I know this is a very popular old hat headcanon, but... His other name is also “Curufinwe”. Everyone called him Telperinquar from the start, lest all three come running and grumble about being distracted from work, but after the Nargothrond debacle, he had other reasons for not using it. But really, Telperinquar/Celebrimbor is just another more metaphorical way to say “this baby shall be good at working with his hands” so yeah

My HC for where he was between the Finrod incident and the second age is as follows: He departed for war with Gwindor’s troupe (this is someone who tried to engineer a way around entropy - not a “do nothing” sort of guy) and fled the battlefield with Turgon. (hence some of the passages that place him in Gondolin can still be made to work. He totally made Earendil’s baby-sized mail coat) He fled with Idril’s party. Had she not tipped him off somehow he would probably have died with the rest of the smith’s guild. Or perhaps he grabbed all the valuable records he could find and ran for it because someone needed to preserve them. As living surrounded by the survivors of Doriath would have been awkward to say the least, he went to the isle of Balar to offer his skills and service to Gil-Galad. This is where he befriended/ reconnected with Galadriel and Celeborn. 

Finrod once told him the “faithful stone” legend from Brethil. It would be an inspiration to him much later. Generally credits Finrod with being a good influence on him. 

Judging by the stars on the doors of Durin his stance on his family probably softened over the years. He essentially attained their original new dream of exploring distant lands and building unparalleled new realms, at least for a while - also definitely has a similar “screw destiny!”/ “I defy you stars!” attitude. Perhaps he wanted to see their vision done right. 

But on some level, I think he also wanted to associate himself with their fame eventually especially once his own accomplishments grew. His feelings were probably always very ambiguous because he must have admired and envied their great works but also lived getting weird looks whenever he did what he’s best at and loves doing most in the world because it associates him with these very ambiguous people whom many hated... at one point in the past he must have really admired his father and grandfather, I mean, he came with them across the sea. 

Nerdanel

She got Feanor the apprenticeship / gave him the idea after they met on their travels. 

Were seen as something of an eccentric hippie/ hipster couple in the early days

She’s tough, confident and definitely quipped/ yelled back at times. Definitely described as ‘strong-willed’ and individual. Like this was a ‘kindred spirits’ thing before everything went to hell

it counts for something that even during the ugly bitter parting scene the worst Feanor could say was “someone must’ve turned you against me because you definitely cared once” rather than “you’re a traitor” for all that everything else in that scene made him very punchable

Their relationship dynamic, as I see it, is that she’s the one person who just sees and treats him like a normal dude. No apprehension, no fawning. He’s not “the greatest” or a tainted aberration to her, he’s simply a like-minded friend. So she’s pretty chill about his idiosyncrasies and doesn’t see them as a big deal, but on the other hand, she’s not overawed and will not take bullshit

Since she is good at understanding people she probably usually gets where he’s coming from even when he’s not being reasonable

possibly invented abstract art; was most certainly influential. 

the elves who serve Aule probably have their own little traditions. She might’ve imparted some of those on her descendants

Also ppl tend to forget that she also does metalwork. Again, it’s quite possible that she got him into it and that if they’d never met, he might have landed in a completely different discipline

I think it says a lot about Feanor that he chose her for being smart, creative and independent-minded. It shows that he actually values these things and that it’s not just a rhetorical device;  he’s not a hypocrite, he failed at what he was genuinely trying to aim for. 

She had Finwe won over the moment she mentioned that she likes children. To Feanor’s chagrin, she proclaimed that his then-tiny half-siblings were the cutest thing ever but since he was trying to impress Nerdanel, he actually kept his composure there. 

She was totally buds with Earwen and Anaire. 

I really like those fics where she played some part in the reconstruction efforts. She’s already renowned for her wisdom and has some familiarity with the court, so why wouldn’t Finarfin make her an advisor? 

Miriel

She was described as having “silver” hair like what the teleri sometimes have, but that was for lack of a better world. It’s actually pretty close to pure white. It was an unprecedented anomaly. Celegorm got it. Though overall Maglor might be the one who most looks like her. Or maybe Caranthir. 

Well, her tendency to refuse to eat her words no matter what has certainly proven highly heritable

Canonically one of those ppl who talks very fast 

Feanor doesn’t look very much like her at all, but he talks like her and is similar in his body language etc. The shape of her hands, however, has made it all the way to Celebrimbor in an unbroken line. Maglor’s got em too. 

She was the only one of her family to make the great journey. That’s why “the names of her kin are not recorded”. You see, they tried to convince her not to go, and that only made her more determined. 

Miriel and Indis used to have this thing where Miriel would sing while Indis plays the instrument. First time Indis caught Maedhros and Fingon doing something similar she got very emotional about it. She told them how she and Miriel also used to have a sort of odd friendship despite their opposite looks and personalities. Maedhros had at this point never even heard that they used to be friends. She proceeded to tell him some fun stories from Miriel’s youth and encouraged the two to spend time together. 

We’re told that Miriel and Finwe only got together in Valinor; Since Indis had a thing for him since before the Vanyar moved out of Tirion it’s fully possible that Indis actually liked him first. Maybe she actually introduced them to each other, like she wasn't confident enough to ask him on a date so she brought her friend, only for the two to be immediately smitten with each other. Poor Indis decided that she had no chance and moved out of town when Ingwe did. 

Miriel definitely expresses her love/admiration in the way of “You! You’re perf! I must make art of you!”

Since his arrival in the halls of Mandos, Feanor has made several of Vaire’s Maiar cry with his critique of their tapestries, but he holds that his mom’s are best. 

Feanor himself

In general, I hold that while he said many things that were not right, there’s a lot of what he prophecied that was not quite wrong and does come true in a kind of way, even if not necessarily for himself and his family. They sort of pave the way as Promethean figures. The second mouse gets the cheese (it’s usually some Nolofinwean)

Though he’s also the ultimate example of “you are not immune to propaganda”. Literally the smartest man in the world; Still touchy enough to be an easy mark for emotional manipulation. 

I think a lot of ff undersells what a polymath he must’ve been and that part where he worked on many different topics and was “the most learned”. 

You know the type of author who has a bazillion unfinished wips going and jumps wildly from topic to topic? Feanor’s research notes are exactly like that, especially the tendency to disintegrate into cryptic jottings and notes right before the most interesting part.  Just like the unfinished texts from HoMe Just like Gauss or Euler, having invented everything a hundred years ahead and 40% more discoveries buried that he never felt ready to publish. (I can also definitely see the sons – especially Maedhros and Curufin – spending the better part of the siege of Angband compiling some of it into a presentable format. Celebrimbor would then be the one to stumble upon implications /corollaries that had somehow been missed for thousands of years. 

For all that I enjoy fics where they’re all smoll and adorable as much as the next person, canonically we’re given every indication that he was an adolescent or young adult by the time the remarriage occurred. The published silm has him “well-nigh full-grown” by the time Indis started having kids; In the HoME passage detailing the romantic meeting on the mountain it’s said that he was “wandering in the mountains” (ie, old enough to do so on his own) at the time. He moved out as soon as he could, so he and his half-siblings never actually spent any significant time in the same household

I mean, he reacted like a teenager would, and IMHO neither his character nor Finwe’s make any sense if this wasn’t a single parent situation early on. 

Personally, I really don’t like that headcanon that he was nicer to the sisters for no reason. I don’t think his relationship with Fingolfin was ever much better than the sort of “awkwardly tolerating” we saw at the reconciliation scene; At the same time, I don’t think things would ever have escalated to that degree if Melkor hadn’t gone mucking things up. 

In the same vein, I don’t think he always had beef with the Valar. He used to hang out in Aule’s halls and let Celegorm study with Orome after all and studied their language. - he certainly seems to have had some romanticism for the Hither Lands evident in his speeches, he traveled far past the well-lit areas, made crystals that shine in starlight etc. so he was probably always somewhat independent-minded and he certainly knew, better than anyone, that the Valar are imperfect and can’t fix everything (they couldn’t heal Miriel after all) - but it’s a long way from healthy skepticism and understandable disappointment to asserting bad intentions where there are none. 

There’s a long way between not wanting a relationship with someone, and pointing stabby objects at them. Feanor was always difficult and never the type of person to be easily satisfied but at the same time, he clearly had his “delight” in his work and life as it was pre-Melkor. He could’ve gone on as an inventor and author of strongly worded opinion pieces; perhaps the elves were even “meant” to go back & come into contact with the Edain for a brief while, just without all the murder. 

The thing about Melkor’s lies is that they made a complicated situation conveniently easy in a way that he (and Fingolfin!) would want to believe. It’s not really either of their fault that they both exist, but if your rival is actually out to get you then suddenly all your negative feelings are justified 

Personally, I don’t think it the remarriage made that much of a difference - Miriel would still be dead. What Feanor’s really mad at is the inherent unfairness of the world. But he can’t fix or fight that, so in a misfire of his engineer’s mindset that thinks in terms of simple cause and effect and wants the world to be logical and controllable, he blamed something tangible (Indis.)

I think Melkor hates him so much because he’s kinda what Melkor wishes he was or likes to think he is. They’re both the mightiest of their respective kinds and don’t really fit in, but Feanor’s actually extremely creative. He goes and does his own thing, and maybe errs in overlooking that no man is an island and that all works are built on those of others, but, look at Melkor who wants all the scale of a group project but none of the “cooperation” part and basically can’t make anything of his own. “You’re like me, yet you’re successful? I cannot allow it!” 

In a sense you have classic Satan and Miltonian satan in the same setting, and they can’t stand each other

[saelwen]

Caranthir x Human!Reader

Caranthir x Human!Reader

Request by a lovely anon:

Greetings from an anon that loves your writings! Can I make a request with Caranthir where his badass human s/o doesn't like him keeping her out of the oath stuff and tells him that she chose him and that includes his oath too

Masterlist

Warning: ANGST!!! Death

Words: 1k

A/n: I didn’t know if you wanted angst or fluff but i made it angst. 😂 I hope you don’t mind!

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Caranthir’s voice came out in a small whisper, trying to contain his rage from your disobedience as he saw you lurking in the shadows of the forest.

“I’m coming with you! I will not stay at the Palace doing nothing a while you and your brothers go get the simaril, Caranthir!” you said while coming out of the shadows of the tall trees, wearing a full elvish armor that your beloved Caranthir had given you. “I can fight!... And I will do anything to help you, Melleth nin!” you whisper quietly the last part, walking slowly towards him.

Caranthir and his older brothers were preparing to attack Doriath since King Dior, Heir of King Thingol, refuses to give the silmaril to the Fëanor sons. Caranthir had told you to stay in his Palace in Thargelion but stubborn as you are, you had followed them quietly until now.

“I know... But I want you to stay safe and away from the problems of the oath of my family.” His voice was gentle and calm, his grey eyes had softened as he looks to you. ���I don’t want for you to live our misery.” he cups your soft cheek with his large hand, stroking gently his thumb on your skin.

“Since the day I said yes to court you, I knew what I was dealing with... The oath doesn’t scare me, Caranthir. What scares me is the thought of losing you!” you said firmly, your e/c eyes shining with courage and bravery. “Wherever you go, I go too!” he let out a chuckle and let out a deep sigh, looking down at you with a small smirk.

“You humans are such stubborn little things...Come! Let’s prepare for the attack!” he said while giving you a gentle kiss in the lips, making you grin brightly.

You hum in pleasure and pull him down for one more kiss which grew hungrier as you two begin roaming your hands down your bodies. A cough interrupted your heavy petting, making you pull quickly from each other. Your cheeks bright red and your rosy lips shining with saliva.

“I see you had followed us, Y/n,” Celegorm said with a huge smirk on his face, seeing his brother face burning bright red from your heavy make out. “I never thought that I would live to see Caranthir become so red from a small kiss,” he said while laughing, making Caranthir even redder.

“Shut up! C’mon, Y/n!” he grabs your small hand with his and lead to the large group of elves.

Your heart was beating like crazy which you thought was from your make-out session but something felt off. A big storm was coming, you knew it but you were prepared...and you will do anything in your power to see victory.

----

Screams... Painful screams sounded from everywhere. The smell of blood and smoke hovered in the air, making difficult for you to breathe. Your grip on the handler of your sword was strong as you look around you, seeing corpses everywhere. Your left hand was wrapped around your stomach, trying to put some pressure on your wound.  

A sindar elf comes running towards you, his sharp blade pointed at you. You bend your knees and spin quickly, putting all your strength in the sword, piercing your sword through the elf’s chest.  

“CARANTHIR!” you scream, trying to find me in the mountain of dead elves. In the corner of your eye, your breath was caught in your throat. Lying on the ground were Celegorm and Curufin corpses. You felt tears running down your bruised cheeks. You bend down and gave a kiss one each of their cheeks. “Rest well, Mellon nins...” you whisper.

You stood up slowly, hissing as you fell your wound stretch. You limp through the sea of corpses, trying to find your beloved Caranthir. In the distance, you saw Maedhros and Maglor still fighting which made you sigh in relief.  

Suddenly an arrow pierces through your shoulder, forcing a painful cry from your lips. You turn back and saw archer behind you, preparing to shoot another arrow but you were quicker and throw your sword at him. Stabbing in the middle of his chest.

“Fucker...” you grumble, breaking the arrow in your shoulder in two, leaving the point inside your body.

You continue your search, turning the hall and seeing more dead bodies but none was your love. Your body slowly becomes weaker, losing a lot of blood but you will not rest until you find Caranthir.

You limp down the large hallway, walking on the corpses. A wave of tears come running down from your eyes as you see Caranthir lying on the floor with his hands on his stomach. You limp towards him, whimpering his name over and over.

“No...Caranthir!” you whimper as you fall down beside him, putting his head on your lap. He opens very slowly his grey eyes, smiling softly as he sees.

“Melleth nin... Don’t cry...” he whispers weakly, lifting his bloody hand and cupping your soaked cheek. “Y..You know how I hate s..seeing you cry...” he coughs and blood running down his chin, forcing a loud sob from your lips.

You lean down and capture his lips, kissing with all your love. Your cold tears fell to his cheeks, running down on his pale skin. “Please.... don’t go...” you whisper, feeling his breath becoming weaker.  

Slowly, you lie down beside him, grabbing his hand with all your strength. He turns his head to the side, giving you a weak smile but disappears quickly when he sees your giant wound on your stomach and shoulder.

“...You are hurt...” he whispers, his voice full of rage for the person who hurt you.

You shook your head and rest your forehead on his. “It doesn’t matter,” you whisper. You begin feeling weaker and weaker, the loss of blood had become too much for you to handle. “I love you so much, melleth nin...” your voice was soft and full of love, making him smile a while tears fall down from his grey eyes.

“I love you too, Y/n...with all my heart.” he leans down and gave you a small kiss.

You two close your eyes and let the heavy sleep take over your weak bodies. You felt his breath stop and you whimper, cuddle into his cold neck.

“I will always follow you...even in death.” with that you let your soul leave your body and darkness surround you.

Hey Guys!! Here is a new one-shot with Caranthir!! I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!

XOXO

[gffa]

Name ten favourite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) then tag ten people

Tagged by @thewillowbends.  These lists are always hard, but that’s kind of the fun of them!  And that’s why we cheat and sometimes have lots of ties because no you can’t make me choose. 1.  Thor from Marvel’s Cinematic Universe - I am a sucker for a character who has their shit together but can still be human and face ridiculously traumatic experiences and come through them whole because they had a rock solid foundation to begin with.  From being thrown out of Asgard, made mortal, and taking that chance to suck it up and make himself better that he did that himself to the loss of pretty much his entire family and most of his people and his sense of purpose, the thing I love about Thor is that he keeps getting back up.  That kind of fortitude is even more appealing that the ridiculously hot lightning powers. 2.  Tsukino Usagi from Sailor Moon - I always loved her in the ‘90s anime, but reading the manga skyrocketted her into this special untouchable place in my heart.  The beginning of her journey is a girl who is so fragile that she would kill herself if she didn’t have the emotional support around her, who had to take step after step forward to find her inner strength, who wasn’t weak or terrible for her fragility, but instead her story was worth telling for it, that the point she started out as was just as valuable as the place she ended up, where she could be the one to stand up to save her friends and get them back herself, that journey was worth telling.  I LOVE HER TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH. 3.  Thranduil and Maedhros from Tolkien’s Legendarium - It was really hard to choose, because I love a lot of the characters (and I feel badly leaving Thingol and Maglor off the list and I will fight a bitch for Galadriel and Elrond and listen Glorfindel is pure joy and also the internet is too mean to Elwing and I kind of want alllll the Melkor and Manwe fic because sobs they’re brothers shut up you can’t make me not have feelings about that, but also trashbag Melkor/Sauron and--) but those are the two I usually wind up wanting to know their pov in a fic I’m reading or have them around when shit’s going down because I want to see what they’ll do or I just miss them the most when they’re not there. 4.  Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars - If you asked me to pick between them, I don’t know that I could.  Yeah, sure, I love Obi-Wan ridiculously, but if you give me five minutes, I’m pretty much always going to drift back to talking about Anakin and his issues instead.  I’m not sure I can even boil them down into a nutshell about why I like them so much, they’re the kind of characters that I love so intensely and with such big, sweeping thoughts, that I’d have to write a whole essay.  But my best attempt:  Anakin’s being both dumbass and genius at the same time, being charming and magnetic while also being a bag of garbage at the same time, who had such good in him but was also an absolute monster, who I desperately want to be happy, but I also struggle to forgive him sometimes and that’s saying a lot for a fictional character, he’s brilliant enough to truly carry an entire Saga about him.  And Obi-Wan is the bedrock of all goodness in that galaxy, he could be obnoxious at times and he didn’t always see Anakin clearly, but he always cared and he remained good and hopeful, he continued to serve the galaxy, no matter what it threw at him, and even forgave Anakin in the end, because he always rose above.  That’s it, that’s my shit right there. 5.  Inoue Orihime from Bleach - ORIHIME WAS MY GIRL FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, her unwavering kindness and care, her desire to be soft in a world (and, frankly, fandom) that wanted her to be hard and to fight everything, when she didn’t want to fight, she wanted to heal, she wanted to have fun and be weird, she wanted everyone to be happy, all of that made me love her.  Her loopiness is an absolute delight, but what I loved so much about her is that Orihime had the powers/abilities to be quite possibly the most OG of the entire cast, she could reject reality itself, and she never once wanted to use it to beat anyone up or to destroy anything, she wanted to make friends with her fairies and she wanted to help people.  That girl refused to let the world make her anything less than kind and caring and sweet.  She was THE BEST. 6.  Hara Akiha and Umeda Hokuto from Hanazakari no Kimitachi e/Hana-Kimi - Sometimes we all fall in love with those minor characters and they just fucking consume us.  A lot of it came from that they were both hot, they were both hilarious, and so they were just really fun, but what really got me was that I genuinely loved everything Nakajo did with Umeda’s character.  There weren’t a lot of gay characters in shoujo manga that weren’t complete comedic relief, where their sexuality was the joke.  Yes, Umeda was often a humorous character (all of the cast was) but he firmly was completely uninterested in high school kids, he liked adult men, and his advice to Mizuki may have been crabby as hell, but it was genuine and good.  His sexuality wasn’t the punchline of his character.  Then there was Akiha, who was also comedic, but his bisexuality (another rare thing to find in manga!) had nothing to do with the humor of his character, all of it was in the way he chased after Umeda.  He was a genuine suitor (and, reading the post-manga character interviews, apparently they got together, OMG MY HEART) and the kiss they shared was treated just as seriously as any straight kiss would have been.  That meant a lot to me, even though I’d have loved the characters just because they were so interesting and Umeda’s struggle to get over the guy who never cared for him and to let himself be vulnerable with someone that he could actually care about, was so great. 7.  Yuki Eiri from Gravitation - I can’t begrudge anyone for giving this show a lot of shit (and I definitely am going with anime!Yuki here, rather than manga!Yuki) or dismissing it as being god-awful, because it probably was pretty cringeworthy.  But Yuki got under my skin because he was one of the first characters I resonated with where his depression was real and it was ugly.  He could be cruel to people around him, he pushed them away, not just half-heartedly, but genuinely, and he couldn’t stand being vulnerable, because it touched on all the terrible places that had been damaged by what Kitazawa had done to him.  And he couldn’t just be magically fixed by Tohma’s devotion or Shuuichi’s unwavering amounts of love poured into him.  He couldn’t just be fixed with a hug or one good crying session.  He was damaged and it was going to be a hell of a long hike back up to anything even a little bit normal.  Especially back at that time, I felt like depression and trauma were never given any real weight, then along comes this ridiculous BL series that just refused to make Yuki anything less that genuinely damaged and it hit all these places in wee me that was struggling through my own depression that couldn’t just be cured with some hugs and people telling me they loved me.

8.  Hashiba Touma from Yoroiden Samurai Troopers - I’m not sure I could even say why this character got under my skin the way he did, other than that there was definitely a group of us who were SUPER into the show and it was fun to make a playground for ourselves, and Touma just really got to me.  The brilliant character who didn’t always know how to relate to others, but who cared very deeply about them, who gravitated to those who were better at social interaction than he was, who were better able to connect to people than he was, that he found this group where he really belonged, that just really touched wee me’s heart. 9.  Tendou Souji from Kamen Rider Kabuto - THIS OBNOXIOUS HOT MESS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.  It was hard not to put Kagami on the list as well, because so much of what I love about Tendou is illustrated through his relationship with Kagami (whom I also love on his own), but I think I keep coming back to that I love his issues the most.  He’s the best at everything and so it puts distance between him and everyone else, all the more so because he’s so obnoxious about it and doesn’t slow down for anyone else to catch up, but the thing is that there’s a very caring heart underneath all that.  He loves his sisters, he loves Kagami, he even kind of tolerates the rest of their weird gang, and trying to find that difficult line of his superiority over the others versus that he wants them to catch up to him in his own way, all while being the most condescending dick ever, is absolute joy. 10.  Relena Darlian from Gundam Wing - I had a difficult path to liking Relena, because so much of fandom boiled her down to either being a creepy stalker who got in the way of Heero/Duo or they only ever wrote her in romantic pairing stuff with Heero, neither of which really encouraged me to like her.  But, as time went on and I rewatched the series a couple of times, I realized there’s so much more to her.  She’s a character who has to walk an impossible line between both of the legacies that weigh on her, the birth family that she never knew but maybe she could help bring peace to the world by taking up that name, by trying to bring back the Sanq Kingdom that promoted absolute pacifism and peace.  Yet, ultimately, for all that her relationship with Zechs is really important and she was the heir to that kingdom, she chose to be Relena Darlian.  She choose to try to bring peace to the world by standing up on her own as a politician, not a figurehead queen of the world.  The struggle to figure that out, who she wants to be and how she wants to achieve it, to go from a sheltered young girl at the start of the series to someone who has seen how terrible war is, is far more interesting than either of those first options for me! And I’ll tag @forcearama (and if I couldn’t put Obi-Wan as all ten entries, neither can you!) @belldreams @subskywalker @cacchieressa @bpdanakins @glompcat @writegowrite @fireflyfish @evaceratops @amarielah and anyone else who wants to do it that I’m not sure I feel quite like I’m able to try peer pressuring you into it.  ♥  I love seeing these from anyone who wants to do them, I’m just never sure if I’m allowed to go HEY YOU DO THIS THING.  orz

[dawnfelagund]

Caranthir the Slandered: Narrative Bias, Cross-Cultural Alliances, and Fëanor’s Angriest Son

In recent weeks, Caranthir's characterization in The Silmarillion has come up a couple of times and led me to rant about how Caranthir's description in The Silmarillion is inconsistent with how we actually see his character behaving. This would indicate bias on the part of the narrator.

If you're not familiar with my theory on historical bias in The Silmarillion, here's a quick primer before I dive into how the narrator expresses bias against Caranthir and why. Tolkien always imagined his stories as being told or authored by an in-universe character. In the case of The Silmarillion,for decades he assigned the authorship of much of it--including the Beleriand chapters of the Quenta--to a loremaster of Gondolin named Pengolodh; references to Pengolodh were stricken from the published text by Christopher Tolkien. However, the evidence of that narrator remains in the form of bias: who is discussed in the text and the kind of treatment they receive. I've compiled and looked at data around mentions of characters, descriptions of realms, death scenes, and accounts of battles, and in each instance, the data shows a strong bias toward people and groups that would have been favored by someone from Gondolin. (Some of my data can be found in my article Attainable Vistas; I am working now on putting the rest together to hopefully have it published also at some point.)

Looking at individual characters and the disparity between how they are described and what they actually do in the story also reveals bias. This is particularly egregious in the case of Caranthir.

Caranthir the Dark

The Silmarillion says very little about Caranthir. He is mentioned only 24 times (not counting mentions in the "Index of Names"), the least of any of the sons of Fëanor except Amrod and Amras. Yet the first time we see him act independently of his brothers, Pengolodh immediately applies a damning label to him:

But Caranthir, who loved not the sons of Finarfin, and was the harshest of the brothers and the most quick to anger, cried aloud ... ("Of the Return of the Noldor," emphasis mine)

The Fëanorians are not exactly sweetness and gentleness in The Silmarillion. To be named the harshest of this particular brood is notable.

Additionally, Caranthir is given the epithet "the dark," a seeming corroboration of Pengolodh's observation of his temper. According to The Shibboleth of Fëanor, this epithet derives from his father-name Morifinwë (dark Finwë), and we know from Tolkien that the root mor- and being described as "dark" is not generally a compliment. In this case, though, the epithet is not a comment on his temperament; rather, according to Shibboleth, it is because "he was black-haired as his grandfather" (HoMe XII, p. 353). His mother-name Carnistir, meaning "red-face," also could be construed as a comment on his temper ... except that it also remarks on his resemblance to a relative, in this case "the ruddy complexion of his mother" (p. 353). But because none of the etymology of his name is explained in The Silmarillion and he's just stuck with the unqualified epithet "the dark," his epithet suggests that there is a consensus that he has a tempestuous, difficult personality.

What's interesting, though, is that even though we're told this about Caranthir, it never particularly bears out in the story. Yes, in this scene, we see him rashly rebuke Angrod for what he sees as an overreach. (Pengolodh dwells overlong on the reaction to Caranthir's outburst, just in case you missed the message that what he said was completely inappropriate and just plain wrong.) But this also seems to be a one-off instance. We don't see him behave this way again.

Caranthir the ... Cosmopolitan?

In fact, we see him behave in the opposite manner, over and over again, although Pengolodh's bias toward him sometimes twists those instances to deemphasize their positivity. Take his first encounter with the Dwarves:

And thus it was that Caranthir's people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand. But though either people loved skill and were eager to learn, no great love was there between them; for the Dwarves were secret and quick to resentment, and Caranthir was haughty and scarce concealed his scorn for the unloveliness of the Naugrim, and his people followed their lord. Nevertheless since both peoples feared and hated Morgoth they made alliance, and had of it great profit; for the Naugrim learned many secrets of craft in those days, so that the smiths and masons of Nogrod and Belegost became renowned among their kin, and when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand all the traffic of the dwarf-mines passed first through the hands of Caranthir, and thus great riches came to him. ("Of the Return of the Noldor," emphasis mine)

Here is what happens in this passage: The Dwarves have stopped trafficking into Beleriand and resume, presumably in part at least due to the defenses offered by Caranthir. They form a military allegiance in the interest of their mutual defense. They form an economic partnership that enriches both parties. Stepping back to consider the big picture, this is a remarkably good relationship between Elves and Dwarves, whose long enmity forms a plot arc that extends over the entirety of the legendarium. Of the Eldar in Beleriand, only Maeglin and Finrod Felagund have comparably good relationships with the Dwarves and some (lookin' at you, Elu Thingol) have disastrously bad.

But it's important to also notice how Pengolodh undermines that relationship. While acquiescing that, yeah, the Dwarves' difficult temperaments make allegiance difficult, he follows up with what amounts to, "But Caranthir called them ugly!" (The level of maturity in this accusation reminds me of how my middle-school students might handle such a situation.) Pengolodh is also quick to point out that "no great love was there between then," as though there are any examples, aside from Maeglin and Finrod Felagund, of Eldarin Elves who form a relationship with Dwarves that might be characterized with a word like love. There isn't, but that doesn't stop Pengolodh from holding Caranthir to a higher standard than he holds his own king--who holds no relationship, loving or otherwise, with the Dwarves--much less someone like Elu Thingol, who receives very little scrutiny for his role in sparking the ages-long, disastrous conflict between Elves and Dwarves.

The parting remark about how "all the traffic of the dwarf-mines passed first through the hands of Caranthir, and thus great riches came to him" always feels negative to me, but that is admittedly my own bias around the hoarding of wealth. From a loremaster of Gondolin--the most unapologetic example in Beleriand of the use of resources for pure opulence--the connotation of riches might well have been very different. Nonetheless, there is a sense in this sentence, in the rather passive-feeling phrase "passed through the hands," that Caranthir's riches weren't exactly earned so much as a matter of geographical convenience.

The next time we see Caranthir in action is again in relation to a group of non-Elves: the mortal Haladin:

First came the Haladin; but meeting the unfriendship of the Green-elves they turned north and dwelt in Thargelion, in the country of Caranthir son of Fëanor; there for a time they had peace, and the people of Caranthir paid little heed to them.

. . .

Therefore [Melkor] sent out an Orc-raid, and passing east it escaped the leaguer, and came in stealth back over Ered Lindon by the passes of the Dwarf-road, and fell upon the Haladin in the southern woods of the land of Caranthir.

. . .

But seven days later, as the Orcs made their last assault and had already broken through the stockade [of the Haladin], there came suddenly a music of trumpets, and Caranthir with his host came down from the north and drove the Orcs into the rivers.

Then Caranthir looked kindly upon Men and did Haleth great honour; and he offered her recompense for her father and brother. And seeing, over late, what valour there was in the Edain, he said to her: 'If you will remove and dwell further north, there you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar, and free lands of your own.' ("Of the Coming of Men into the West," emphasis mine)

It is hard even for Pengolodh to spin this one negatively. Caranthir acts with remarkable heroism and magnanimity in this scene, not only defending a beleaguered people against their shared enemy (although I can't resist pointing out that other rulers among the Eldar are not similarly generous with their aid) but offering lands, protection, and most remarkably to me, what amounts to weregild for her slain relatives.

Pengolodh does try to spin it, though. The fact that initially the "people of Caranthir paid little heed to them" sets up a scenario where Caranthir's offer can be read more as a shoring up of his defenses once he realizes his new neighbors are actually useful than a gesture of friendship and admiration. Of course, Pengolodh can't resist adding the dig that Caranthir sees the Haladin's valor "over late"; again, few of the Eldar--and Finrod Felagund is again the notable exception--are willing to enter into relationships with groups of Mortals without the potential for gain for themselves. We also don't know what it means that Caranthir "did Haleth great honour," although I suspect that if it had been Turgon or Thingol or Finrod standing in Caranthir's place, we would have received this information is lavish, congratulatory detail.

I also can't overlook the fact that Pengolodh's critique of Caranthir for not paying adequate attention to the Haladin before the Orc-raid comes immediately on the heels of admitting that another group of Elves, the Green-elves of Ossiriand, had unceremoniously driven these same Haladin from their lands. The Avari are also subjected to the bias of Tolkien's narrators; however, Pengolodh's word choice here turns Caranthir's decision to leave the Haladin alone into a negative when it's very possible that both parties felt this was the ideal course. Certainly Haleth's response to Caranthir's later offer doesn't suggest that she took umbrage. (Lake Helevorn where Caranthir lived and the southern extent of his realm where the Haladin settled were also about 150 miles/240 km apart, according to Fonstad's Atlas of Middle-earth, so he would have had to roll the welcome wagon pretty far.) In any case, Pengolodh's initial assessment of Caranthir as the "harshest of the brothers" is in no way reflected in how he treated the Haladin at any point during their occupancy of his land. A harsh character, most likely, would have driven them off that land or offered his aid only with significant strings attached.

(Interestingly, when Haleth moves her people west to Brethil, Thingol tries to do just that: first, drive them from the land and then only allowing them to stay with strings attached. This information, while reported, isn't subject to the same negativity as Caranthir's at-worst-benign actions were. Also important to note, the character who convinces Thingol to allow the Haladin to remain in Brethil is none other than Finrod Felagund.)

Since I've brought up that "harshest of the brothers" accusation again, it might be a good time to pause, in light of what we've seen of Caranthir so far, and consider him beside some of the brothers of whom he is reputed to be the harshest. Like Celegorm and Curufin, who send off their beloved cousin Finrod to die in Sauron's dungeons, plan the kidnapping and captivity of Lúthien, and generally stoke fear and bloodthirstiness in people. Curufin is repudiated by his son; Celegorm is repudiated by his dog, for goodness sake, and we're supposed to buy that Caranthir is harsher and quicker to anger than those two? (This is not to say that there isn't bias against Celegorm and Curufin in The Silmarillion as well, but their reputations are better justified by their deeds than in the case of Caranthir.)

Two more instances in the life of Caranthir deserve mention. After the Battle of Sudden Flame,

Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves ... ("Of the Ruin of Beleriand")

These are the same Green-elves who, a few chapters earlier, were unwilling to tolerate the homeless Haladin in their lands, who are described as wary and secretive ("Of the Sindar"), and who insist they "desire no strangers in this land to break the peace in which we live" ("Of the Coming of Men into the West" ... these are the Green-elves now lending aid to Caranthir. One has to wonder what in his harsh, angry personality convinced them to do that.

(By the way, who is the only other Noldo described as forging a successful friendship with the Green-elves before this point? Finrod Felagund ...)

Next, Caranthir forges another non-Eldarin alliance with Ulfang the Black and his sons. Unfortunately, this alliance does not turn out well, as he is betrayed by them. Nonetheless, stepping back again to consider the big picture reveals a character who forms a remarkably diverse array of alliances, most of them productive (and when they aren't, not through fault of his), with Dwarves, Mortals--both Edain and Easterling--and Avarin Elves. This is unusual. While the Eldar as a whole form allegiances with these various peoples, it is uncommon for one individual to do so.

The Finrod Connection

Uncommon but not unheard of. There is one character who does form friendships with all of these people: Finrod Felagund. Finrod is one of Pengolodh's favorite people. He is mentioned 96 times--exactly four times as often as Caranthir--and is the ninth most-mentioned character in The Silmarillion. Finrod seems to have earned this regard: In every sense of the word, he is an extraordinary person whose life is devoted to forging friendships and peace between disparate people and whose actions are guided by kindness and wisdom. He's the sort of person who can be Turgon's best friend and still hang out with Maedhros and Maglor and make that seem like it's not weird at all.

Pengolodh devotes a lot of energy toward depicting Finrod as the cosmopolitan of the House of Finwë. Caranthir, in many ways, is set up as a foil to Finrod. Where Finrod is golden, Caranthir is dark. Where Finrod is benevolent, Caranthir is described as harsh and haughty. Both have a love for treasure and beautiful things, but Finrod is a consummate craftsman whereas we know nothing of Caranthir's profession or talents. Their realms even face each other from opposite sides of Beleriand.

But both could rightfully be considered the most cosmopolitan of the Eldar in Beleriand, and comparing how Pengolodh treats the alliances and friendships they build is an interesting case study in how bias manifests in The Silmarillion. (A productive third angle could be taken in looking at Elu Thingol, who also forges a lot of relationships with different peoples but is spectacularly bad at it and yet receives almost no criticism from Pengolodh, i.e., his treatment of the Haladin discussed above.) It also suggests a motive for Pengolodh's depiction of Caranthir, which seems, ironically, rather harsh when one considers the attested details of Caranthir's life. Aside from yelling that one time at Angrod, Caranthir does pretty well at staying out of the way of his cousins. He's not a warmonger and doesn't betray anyone. He does participate in the kinslayings--but so do Maedhros and Maglor, and Pengolodh musters some sympathy for them. Furthermore, it would have been unlikely that Pengolodh even met him since he went to Gondolin so young and Turgon and the Fëanorians weren't on the best of terms at this time. (So it's not likely Caranthir offended him personally, like the time my sister bore a long grudge against Smokey the Bear because a person wearing that costume stuck out their tongue in my sister's general direction. She was also about three when this happened, for the record.) It's hard to imagine where his animosity towards Caranthir, of all people, comes from.

Pengolodh's treatment of Caranthir begins to make sense, though, when we remember that Finrod was Turgon's best friend, and Turgon is Pengolodh's king. There may have been a degree of protectiveness of Finrod's reputation as the cosmopolitan of the House of Finwë: the person who singlehandedly did The Most to unite the Free Peoples of Beleriand in the First Age. Pointing out that someone like Caranthir, when Caranthir is part of the problematic House of Fëanor, is also capable of forging diverse alliances and friendships diminishes Finrod's accomplishments in this area. Therefore, Pengolodh--while acknowledging the unavoidable historical facts--emphasizes the negative aspects of Caranthir's relationships with other groups.

Now the question will arise: Do I really think that Tolkien thought about all of this? This question is always in the back of my mind as I dive into my historical bias research, especially as a fanfiction writer as well as scholar, accustomed to diving into rabbit holes in my fic and seeing what lies at the bottom. I hesitate always to assign intent where it isn't abundantly clear, and this is no exception. However, my research has shown again and again that the biases one would expect of Pengolodh, the most enduring narrator of The Silmarillion, bear out in both the data and case studies of the text. I do think that this was broadly intended, as in I think that Tolkien deliberately wrote the majority of the Quenta Silmarillion in mind with Pengolodh as the narrator, shaping the story based on what Pengolodh would have known and, yes, his biases. So while I can't and won't state that Tolkien sat down to write one day with the thought in mind that Pengolodh was going to utterly slander the reputation of Caranthir because of his king's bromance with Finrod, I do think that being steeped in ancient and medieval historical writings as Tolkien was and seeking to write in that mode, he did intentionally bring along a pseudohistorical narrator, biases and all.

(Thanks @maedhrosrussandol for the discussion and @shineoftherainbow for the meta that inspired me to finally write down this essay. ^_^)

[pamphletstoinspire]

Tolkien Against Racism

Reading Tolkien’s stories, it is easy to pick up the fact that the various races of Middle Earth often stood in competition with each other, causing various forms of racial tension and notions of racial supremacy to emerge. Some readers, following this line of thought, try to use Tolkien as a prop for their own racism. They see that claims of superiority prove that there should be some races, some groups, which are seen as superior to others, who, then, are justified in keeping to themselves while they expect entitled treatment from others. However, this approach to his works would go against what Tolkien himself has said of his own beliefs elsewhere.

J.R.R. Tolkien, born in Bloemfontein, of the Orange Free State (now a part of South Africa), knew of the prejudices which were found in his birth place, prejudices which he firmly opposed. In his Valedictory Address to the University of Oxford (1959), he mentioned his firm detestation of all forms of apartheid:

If we consider what Merton College and what the Oxford School of English owes to the Antipodes, to the Southern Hemisphere, especially to scholars born in Australia and New Zealand, it may well be felt that it is only just that one of them should now ascend an Oxford chair of English. Indeed, it may be thought that justice has been delayed since 1925. There are of course other lands under the Southern Cross. I was born in one; though I do not claim to be the most learned of those who have come hither from the far end of the Dark Continent. But I have the hatred of apartheid in my bones; and most of all, I detest the segregation or separation of Language and Literature. I do not care which of them you think White.

As Tolkien was a philologist, it is understandable why he mentioned his utter detestation of the artificial separation and division between the fields of Language and the Literature; he understood the study of one needed the study of the other. Trying to divide them, creating disciplines which saw themselves as superior to the other, fell for a grave error which would end up harming both. What is important and fitting about his remarks is that he understood such distinctions often were based upon prejudices and biases, artificial classifications, similar to the kinds which are used by racists to justify their racism. This is what tied his comments together. He did not care for what people looked for as being superior to others, and using that to justify the unjustifiable, that is the creation of artificial division among peoples based upon whatever biases they use to create such divisions. “I do not care which of them you think White,” indeed!

Knowing his biographical history will give a glimpse as to how Tolkien grew to detest such ideologies. While he was born in South Africa, he did not live there long; when he was three, when Tolkien, his brother Hilary, and his mother were visiting England, his father died. While his family was initially taken care of by other family members, when his mother converted to Catholicism (and with her, Tolkien and his brother as well), most of his extended family cut off all aid, so that the Tolkiens had to live on their own, with his mother working hard to take care of her children, both physically and spiritual. With all the stress, and poor physical health due to diabetes, she died young, at the age of thirty-four; by the time of her death, she had chosen Fr. Francis Xavier Morgan, a priest in the Birmingham Oratory, to be the guardian of her children. The prejudice which most (but not all) of his extended family held against Catholicism, he felt, had pushed her to an early death, making him realize how dangerous bigotry was to a healthy society. He held high regard for Fr. Morgan, although, when he met Edith Bratt, Fr. Morgan put a stop to their relationship, demanding they stay apart until Tolkien was twenty-one years old.

The horror of his early life, the horror of feeling betrayed by his own family, is reflected in many of Tolkien’s own writings, including and especially in the story of Beren and Lúthien, characters which he saw connected to himself and the love of his life, Edith. Beren, a human, and Lúthien, the daughter of an Elvish king, fell in love, but Lúthien’s father, Thingol, opposed it as much as he could. While many note that the story reflects, in part, Tolkien’s experience of his own desire to marry Edith, and the challenges he faced with his guardian, Fr. Morgan, the racial prejudices which were manifest in Thingol’s rejection of Beren must not be ignored. Thingol’s objections to Beren marrying his daughter lay in part with Beren’s lowly status as a man, similar to the way many racists would be upset with their daughter dating and marrying a man who was of a race they denigrated:

But Thingol looked in silence upon Lúthien; and he thought in his heart: ‘Unhappy Men, children of little lords and brief kings, shall such as these lay hands on you, and yet live?’ Then breaking the silence he said: ‘I see the ring, son of Barahir, and I perceive that you are proud, and deem yourself mighty. But a father’s deeds, even had his service been rendered to me, avail not to win the daughter of Thingol and Melian. See now! I too desire a treasure that is withheld. For rock and steel and the fires of Morgoth keep the jewel that I would possess against all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms. Yet I hear you say that bonds such as these do not daunt you. Go your way therefore! Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown; and then, if she will, Lúthien may set her hand in yours. Then you shall have my jewel; and though the fate of Arda lie within the Silmarils, yet you shall hold me generous.’

Tolkien understood what it was to be looked down upon by others, to be thought lesser, and mistreated because others believed themselves to be superior and demanded obedience and respect because of it. Thingol, seeing Beren as an inferior unworthy of his daughter, put forward a challenge that he thought could not be met, for Beren to take the Silmaril from the crown of the Dark Lord, Morgoth, knowing that Morgoth never would have it out of his presence. Thingol demanded what he thought was impossible, and yet Beren took up the quest. Beren, despite being a human, despite being apparently inferior to the Elves, proved himself their superior by doing what they thought was impossible: he was able to get the Silmaril, though it cost him much in the process, and Lúthien herself aided him so that without her, he would have failed. But the point is that Thingol had misjudged Beren, the way supremacists misjudge others: his own thoughts of superiority made him ignore the greatness which was before him. Beren was a great hero, indeed one of the greatest, whose glory surpassed most of the Elves. When Beren completed the fool’s errand, Thingol finally understood what he had brought, all the harm which he caused to himself, to his kingdom, to his daughter, all because of his pride, and he actually had a change of heart:

Then Thingol’s mood was softened; and Beren sat before his throne upon the left, and Lúthien upon the right, and they told all the tale of the Quest, while all there listened and were filled with amazement. And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien a thing new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world. Therefore at the last he yielded his will, and Beren took the hand of Lúthien before the throne of her father.

The challenge, then, which came out of Thingol reflected Tolkien’s own challenges to get his own guardian to accept his relationship with Edith, but yet, connected to it, we sense a little of Tolkien’s other challenges in life, the challenges of prejudice which he felt led his mother to her doom. Likewise, though Thingol relented, his notion of supremacy not only proved false, but also fatal to his kingdom of Doriath, for once the Silmaril was brought into Doriath, it was only a matter of time before Doriath met its own end. In this manner, Tolkien understood not only the way supremacy harms others but also harms those who hold such an ideology because they, in trying to create an artificial distinction from others, only weaken themselves in the process.

Racism and religious bigotry share a common core. Both forms of bias found Tolkien’s strong objection. Yet, he also realized how difficult it is to overcome either. Indeed, he knew how such ideologies infected the minds of great peoples, which is why the manifestation of this problem often found itself in his works with peoples who had reasons to think themselves to be great (such as the Elves). The problem is not in the recognition of their own greatness, but in the way they thought it meant others, in their differences, were inferior; those who had some sort of racial pride often became negligent in that pride, causing their own destruction, while those of other races, those who were considered to be inferior, were often the very ones who achieved the greatest deeds of all, showing how far from reality such prejudices actually were. Perhaps the most important demonstration of this in The Lord of the Rings is found in what Tolkien recorded of the deeds of the Hobbits, the little folk who seemed to be insignificant and yet who, among all others, were the ones who were able to do what needed to be done to save Middle Earth. The Elves, despite their apparent greatness, just stood back and let things fall apart, and in doing so, felt the slow waning of their power and influence in Middle Earth.

Because of Tolkien’s hatred for apartheid, which he felt was so integral to his own being, it should not be surprising to see reflections within his works which demonstrate the failing of such a political ideology, and with it, all forms of racial discrimination. Nonetheless, for this to be found in his works, Tolkien needed to have various versions of racial supremacy in his tales. Those who read his stories thinking the existence of such biases prove Tolkien’s own support of them need only to read his utter detestation of the apartheid which existed in the land of his birth and see how mistaken they are.

BY HENRY KARLSON

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

[we-were-legends]

“Champion’s dawn”

Chapter 40 - “No second chances”

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Oropher left his room with a bit renewed hope. He was glad he managed to speak a bit with Amdir and a fact that they didn't argue a lot was addictional advantage. He even earned apology from his cousin - something he had not expected at all. But their way to somehow mend a broken relation has just begun.

When Oropher arrived to the fields he was ready to take up any duties with expectations to listen lot of news and requests from officers of his different regiments - with Alagos, Taranir, Saida and Faron not being present on the fields, Oropher will have his hands full. Fortunately, it wan't as bad a he expected and Orthon with Nelledir seemed to in control of their own soldiers as well as taking reports of the officers of other regiments. Though when Oropher crossed the fields towards the wooden building of commanders, he noticed a bit of surprise at the small courtyard in front of the stables.

A numerous division took the courtyard. They were a bit loaded and saddlebags were almost full - clearly they just came back from the travel and Oropher recognised them immediately - those elves were no one other but Mablung's own division. It was long since they showed themselves in Menegroth, though Oropher didn't know what their orders were. He only knew they very often traveled to Falas - to Nowe, now more known as Cirdan, Lord of Falas and brother of their King.

Truth be told, Mablung's division was a part of the army and it was not. Those soldiers didn't have any rank that would allow them to give or receive orders, yet they prestige as the soldiers of the Primus General, was high. They were considered more as a highly representative unit and they were the main liason between Doriath and Falas - Oropher could only imagine what messages Cirdan and Elu Thingol passed between each other.

Oropher glanced through Mablung's division briefly, with neutral glance. All of them came back, which was truly heartening. They were experienced and hardened warriors, but asthey said - everything is possible in the wilderness. Soldiers in Mablung's division were of different age - some even remember times of early March and since then they gathered own experience as warriors and as protectors of their families and kin. Some even started to show arrogance because of this.

His own division and Malung's one never liked each other. Some said they were too much alike, some even said that Oropher's division showed more skills and determination. For few Mablung's soldiers those thoughts were unacceptable - that their prestige as the best division in Doriath could be taken by some whelps and Oropher's soldiers were doing everything to prove they are better. Haerdin's division didn't have the best relations with them as well, while Egnaspen's soldiers mostly kept their neutrality, though they bit when it was needed.

Known elves were already waiting for him in the office and Oropher focused on them instead of Mablung's soldiers, though he didn't want to admit himself how difficult it came to him.

'Amrun, Tinnu and Halloth.' he said upon entering already going towards his desk and without waiting for his soldiers to say anything, he continued. 'As you probably know, or maybe not, we have many matters to take care of and we are short in time. Also, many of my officers are not on the fields at the time, so you will deputise for them.'

He got reports that piled up on his desk and he divided it into three smaller piles so each of his soldiers got one. They glanced from the papers in their hands to Oropher and then on each other, not really knowing what is expected of them.

'Read all the reports and orders and decide what you are able to do. Segregate it on your own accord.' Oropher said as he went behind his own desk and opened a drawer where he hoped to find a file of reckoning. 'Then do your own reports and attach it to the file. Do what you can and the rest bring back to me.'

'You can count on us!' Halloth said as first and after quick salutes he lead Amrun and Tinnu our of the office, probably to develop a plan of what they should do.

Oropher knew he was throwing them on the wild sea with so many duties, but he had little choice – lieutenants, captains and regiment officers expected smooth communications and quick solution to their requests and it was Oropher's job to make it remain that way. Besides, his young soldiers were trained and tought not once how to handle themselves and they had almost all the theory needed to lead a regiment. Oropher was almost sure they will do well, he only hoped that his soldiers won't get themselves into something that surpassed them, though it seemed that Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu were aware of the situation and they took their duties seriously. Taking care of it would make it even easier for them to come back to their routine after what happened to Faron. From what Oropher saw they already handled it quite wel, but still, he will probably have to talk with them about it.

Oropher sighted deeply. He couldn't find this file he was looking for. Maybe it was in another drawer, after all? And where was Bressil? She was supposed to be here and wait until he will be done with his young soldiers.

'It's wonderful to be finally home. Though I hoped for a different greeting than indifferent glance.'

Oropher turned sharply to the entrance knowing all too well who spoke those words. The elf's voice was too well known for him and all too vivid and the image of the elf already formed in Oropher's mind even before he saw him in front of himself. And as expected, Oropher immediately gazed into hazel eyes, as he used to so many times before. His light chestnut hair were gathered and binded loosely and Oropher briefly saw that elf's outfit was dirty and worn out here and there.

'Of course you did.' Oropher said as he opened another drawer to look for a file he needed to have. 'You were always a dreamer, Rivalt.'

'Would it be so bad to even come closer and speak to me?' Rivalt asked as he passed by the entrance and walked deeper into the office, but he minded to not get too close.

'Remind me, why should I even greet you?' Oropher said keeping his voice neutral. Conversation with Rivalt was the last thing he needed right now, while at the same time it was the thing he never wanted to happen ever again.

'For good old days?' Rivalt said as he smiled delicately, something that Oropher has not returned and he prevented a snort.

'You mean the past I want to forget?'

Rivalt sighted delicately and his smile disappeared while his arms collapsed with defeat and eyes clouded with a bit of sadness. Oropher didn't even know why Rivalt was here. They said to each other all they wanted long time ago, though it was mainly Oropher who spoke back then while Rivalt tried to explain himself - Oropher knew those explanations very well thus he didn't see a reason why Rivalt showed himself before his eyes. Nothing will make him forgive Rivalt for mistake he had done.

'You remember it so bad?' Rivalt asked with a bit of desperation. 'Us being together?'

'No, Rivalt. I still even think about it sometimes.' Oropher said and he finally looked at the elf before him. 'Back then I thought about us seriously and I treated you as my partner. I even imagined our future. And foolishly I believed that you do as well.'

He used to feel anger everytime when long buried memories came back to him, making him think if there was any possibility that he could have protected himself from what happened. He suspected nothing from Rivalt and he trusted himas lovers should. In turn he was fooled and lied to. With time painful ache and bitterness was replaced by indifference – time didn't fully heal his wounds, but helped him cope with it and now he could think clearly of what happened between him and Rivalt.

'Oropher, you know that-' Rivalt started, almost depite himself he tried to come closer, but Oropher interrupted him and crossed arms on his chest to show how closed he was on Rivalt and how unwelcome was his presence.

'I know your explanations and excuses very well, thank you.' Oropher said keeping his voice neutral. He didn't want to spite his anger on Rivalt anymore - he had no wish for that, also he had no time for that. He just wanted this elf to leave. Oropher ended things between them long ago and there was no need to dig it all over. 'But if you insist then tell me again. Even before we got together, you knew that Iestil was promised to you, didn't you? Your Houses were in agreement about it, you as well.'

Rivalt didn't answer, but his silence was enough for Oropher. Besides, he knew the truth and he didn't need to hear it again.

'You courted her for a looong time.' Oropher said. 'Was in fun to play on two fronts? Exciting? Clearly it was her you would marry, so I would have been a pleasant alternative? Most convenient. I can't get pregnant, so there would be no scandal for you and your House.' then his eyes darkened dangerously. 'But you forgot that I won't be a second choice for anyone.'

Rivalt shook his head as if to deny what Oropher was saying.

'Yes, we were promised to each other! But you can imagine how arranged marriages are. I didn't know if I wanted to be with her!' he said. 'I wanted-!'

'Yes, I know what you wanted.' Oropher interrupted him again. 'You surely promised Iestil faithfulness and great love. Have you even told her that you had me on side while you courted her? Does she know how worthy your promises are?'

Once more Rivalt's silence was meaningful and for Oropher it was enough of this conversation. Enough said was enough - Rivalt started this and he will finish it.

'So, you were lying to me and you are still hiding from her your lies and fake.' Oropher said. 'Nevertheless, I hope she is happy with you, she deserves it. I feel a bit sorry for her that she does not know, but on the second thought it may be better this way. Let your marriage be still joyful. Now excuse me, but I have duties to take care of.' he eyed Rivalt all over before he glanced back at the papers to look for the file he needed and at the end he added what needed to be said from his part. 'Don't ever show yourself before me again.'

'Oropher, please, I-, you don't understand.' Rivalt started almost desperately. 'It was always only you! For me it never ended between us! I still love you!'

'Don't you ever dare say those words to me again!' Oropher growled immediately, looking back at his once lover. He let go of this useless neutrality and turned back to his ways that would make Rivalt let go and chase him away somewhere far. 'Things between us ended long ago! You ended it with your lies, what I did was only formality! It's long over between us, walk your own way! Now leave!'

Rivalt stood for a moment in place like a statue and they stared at each other – Oropher with unhidden ire and Rivalt watched him with sorrow. Oropher was aware that Rivalt may feel sorry for what he did, but there was no excuse for this. And from Oropher's part there will be no forgiveness for his once lover. And Rivalt still stood there, watching him and when Oropher though he thought will have to repeat what he just said, Rivalt, with last look on him, turned and left his office. And something told Oropher that it was the last time he will see Rivalt.

It was immediately followed by hurt. It was even hard to describe as it was a mix of burning wrath, betrayal, wry biterness and undoubted sorrow that only deepened when Oropher realised that closeness he once had with Rivalt was over, once and for all.

Oropher turned his back at the door to forget about the image of Rivalt leaving his office. Once he left, it felt as if their whole relationship was gone with him. In reality things between them ended long time ago, but Oropher couldn't prevent himself from feeling that way.

He was affected by it more than he would ever imagine and more he would ever admit. He didn't want to mull over his memories again, yet he was doing it despite himself. What to say more, he loved Rivalt once - truly and in all honesty. But this feeling burned out on his part. Or rather is was dimmed down by a sudden storm that came down on him with painful realisation of a mockery.

Rivalt said he still loved him. Even if it was so, Oropher will never forgive him. Things between them were over for good and nothing will bring them together again.

Oropher focused up from his deep thoughts at the knock on the door. Just in time someone brought him back to reality, something he needed to not loose himself further. And after he composed himself a bit more he bid this someone to enter, turning back to the door.

To his surprise, it was no one other but Arvellon who entered his office and beyond all else, Oropher knew his cousin enough to see his not well hidden confusion on face. Oropher wondered at once how much of the conversation Arvellon heard.

'It was one of Mablung's soldiers?' Arvellon said poorly trying to easily start conversation. 'It's rare to see them on the fields or even in Menegroth.'

'Arvellon, don't play hide and seek.' Oropher said sitting behind his desk, all of sudden very tired and he couldn't decide if he felt more anger or sorrow. But undoubtedly, he was almost out of patience. 'I know you heard at least some of our conversation.'

'Right.' Arvellon muttered and Oropher sighted delicately before he looked up at his younger cousin.

'Why are you here?' he prompted getting a sizable pile of documents to get through them and hoping that a reckoning file will be somewhere there.

'Oh, I am here because of Bressil.' he said. 'One of her soldiers got injured during training and she is with him in the infirmary. She will come to you as soon as she can.'

'Fine, fine.' Oropher waved his hand and he sighted deeply. Very inconvenient that Bressil's soldier got injured considering that he wished them to leave to the settlements. 'Something serious?'

'Not really. I think he is just well bruised, like...everywhere.' Arvellon said and he shrugged his arms. 'He trained his new horse, you know. Kind of spooky creature and hot-headed. But he wanted the horse himself so now he has it.'

'Why you young soldiers are always onto things you are not ready for?' Oropher asked more himself than Arvellon and he expected no answer to that. Even he would have problems with such horse and he would train it long and hard to be able to trust it and take for active duty. And young soldier of a middle rank will have even more and more problems, which now only showed.

'Says who! You have Bargamo!'

'And have you ever seen me falling from Bargamo?' Oropher asked coming back to his papers and Arvellon sighted, sensing his lack of humor at the moment.

'I think you know well why we are like this.' he said quietly, but Oropher have not answered at this. Truth be told, the reasons could be different. Some believed are invincible, some wanted to prove how good they are to themselves. Most often those excesses ended lightly and young soldiers learned in the process of their mistakes, but with higher risk came greater danger. Not everyone wanted to acknowledge it.

Before he realized Arvellon brought him back from his musings just in time. He started to wander dangerously back to Rivalt, something Oropher wanted to avoid at all cost. And when he looked up again at Arvellon, his younger cousin pointed at his dual blades that rested in embellished stand.

'Are those the ones you thought with during the war?' Arvellon asked a bit tentatively as if he was not sure if he should bother Oropher. At the same time he felt need to do something for Oropher without mentioning the earlier argument or asking about it and Oropher appreciated that his cousin didn't pursue it.

'Yes, those are the ones.' Oropher said as he got up and approached a stand to get the weapons. 'But I fought with my single sword as well.'

He got the blades in hands and gave them to Arvellon who took them well in hand and stared at each of them, delicately touching sharp steel with his fingers.

'After the war, many warriors were known for great deeds and they had swords named after them.' Arvellon said quietly and Oropher nodded.

'Sword can be named upon forging or earn the name in battle.' he said. 'My blades were named after I proved myself in war. But Mountain Grass was named by it's forger. Which is also not so simple. Weaponsmith forging such pieces must be a master in his profession. Only they have skills to make unbreakable weapons with temper that would match the wielder and only those smiths have a right to grant their sword a name. This is the last thing they are doing before the sword is given to the warrior.'

'Lord Talagan forged Mountain Grass.' Arvellon said and Oropher nodded.

'Many things can be said about his House, but they are the greatest smiths on this side of the Sea, with Talagan on lead.' he said. 'He also made swords for Mablung, Haerdin and Egnaspen and each sword has it's own name.'

'Egnaspen's sword is quite remarkable, have you noticed?' Arvellon said as he smiled delicately. 'Steel glitters with saphires and the handle has melted rubies in it.'

'It's quite unique, true.' Oropher agreed and smiled. 'And Egnaspen likes his Kingfisher very much. But much of a wonder is one of his dual swords, Scar. It has a long crack on its steel. But to surprise of many, it didn't fractured sword's stability and constancy. Smiths said that the sword only gained character.' he continued. 'And since then its twin, Hunter, tracks the enemy who dared to wound its brother.'

'Yours are Spark and Whisper, is that right?' Arvellon asked as he looked up at Oropher with rising interest. 'Which one is which?'

'This one is Spark.' Oropher said pointing at the blade in Arvellon's left hand and then at the one in his right hand. 'And that one is Whisper. Spark is always eager to start as first and Whisper sometimes allows it and encourage it, but sometimes it doesn't. Many say that this is why it's so hard to predict how I will start my fight with those swords.'

Arvellon stared at the swords for a moment before he gave them back. Oropher wondered if his cousin trained a bit to master the art of wielding dual swords. Maybe abother time he will ask, maybe they will even find time to train together - Oropher would very much like to see Arvellon fighting with two swords.

'Not very combative names, any of those I heard so far.' Arvellon said while Oropher put Whisper and Spark back on the stand.

'It's quite rare to have a sword with such a name.' he said as he unsheeted sword he had at belt and held it in hands. 'But here you have one. It was named Warcaller.'

Arvellon stared at him for a moment and then at the weapon. A bit hesitantly he reached out and took the sword in hand, holding it up with tip to the roof to admire it.

'Whatever you have done to earn it?'

'I lead a charge during the war.' Oropher said though without a smile. 'Many things...fall apart during the battle and at one point our plan turned out useless. Our forces were divided by the enemy, also by fire and smoke. I gathered regiments around me and we moved against batalions that marched to the hills were our archers covered flanks of main forces.' he sighted quielty as snips of memories of those times came before his eyes. 'We defeated them, but not without losses on our own. At least we managed to eliminate one of the enemy's commanders, an old orc who was well known to us. This forejudged the end of the battle, but also the massacre of the Green Elves.' he sighted. 'But that's a story for another time.'

Arvellon nodded, weighting sword he had in hand. It was hard to not notice how familiar Arvellon became with handling any type of weapons and he was able to evaluate a value of it. His cousin grew up for a great soldier - Oropher had to tell it to himself one more time.

'How come only swords earned names? It's so rare for other weapons to be graced with one.'

'True, it's rare, but there are some. Those are mostly spears or bows' Oropher admitted. 'Faron has one. It is said that no one other can shoot from this bow as good as Faron. White Fang was gifted to him when he was born and it waited until he was old enough to wield it, but it earned its name after one of his glorious hunts.' Oropher said and he smiled. 'One time he tracked and shoot a white bear with it.'

'Now you're diddling!' Arvellon said and Oropher shook his head.

'I swear to you! I saw bear's fur on my own eyes.' he said. 'And Faron has a necklace with bear's teeth, a lot bigger than avarage bear has. I heard that Faron had to pile this beast with half the arrows he had in quiver before it was finally down.'

'Faron is truly an amazing archer, isn't he?' Arvellon said as he smiled delicately before he looked back at Oropher and gave him back the sword. 'How is he?'

Oropher sighted, but smiled encouragingly to his cousin. He took the blade and sheeted it back in its place.

'He will be alright. Elhador watches over him day and night. And Faron's family is around as well.' he said and got ahead of the question that will be asked. 'He didn't wake up yet, but he will. We should not worry.'

'It's hard not to. Each time I recall what happened I feel shivers down my spine.' Arvellon said. 'All of sudden there was great commotion around and we came closer to see what happened. When I saw Faron...his uniform was sticky with blood.' he shook his head to get the image away. 'And you were doing everything to help him. If I was in your place I would probably be paralysed.'

'You wouldn't have.' Oropher said a bit more softly. 'You already used to help your fellow soldiers few times when they got injured. It wasn't that different.'

'Except that Faron was dying.' Arvellon said and Oropher sighted. His cousin was right in some way. Fear can block thoughts and actions - it can paralyse to the bone. Seeing another elf so severly wounded can trigger such reaction.

'It's experience. You will get it in time as well. Many of us learned it during the war.' Oropher said and once more he came back to unpleasant memories. 'At those times, you had to help whoever you could, no matter what happened to them. Sometimes you even had to choose...who had a chance to survive.'

'I'm sorry, I wanted to distract you somehow, but I put you down even more.' Arvellon said immediately, but Oropher laughed a bit.

'It's alright. I still appreciate that you tried.' he waved hand to get all his thoughts away. 'But I can still tell you something about one other weapon that you may or may not have seen.' he said and Arvellon looked at him interested. 'Have you ever noticed a long spear in Egnaspen's office?'

'I have seen it few times, but it's not always there.' he said. 'It's remerkable. But I never took a good look at it.'

'I suspect that no one ever had. Except Egnaspen.' Oropher smiled. 'It's made of gold and the tip is strenghtened with diamond. I heard this spear won't ever loose its sharpness.'

'It has a gem on the second end.'

'Azure topaz. The largest I have ever seen.' Oropher said. 'As you probably noticed, Egnaspen keeps both his armor and weapons quite humble. So at first it surprised me that he has such a spear.' he continued. 'The catch is that no one admits the honour of forging such a weapon. Not even Lord Talagan. No one knows where Egnaspen got it from and he rarely shows up with it.'

'Maybe he made it himself?' Arvellon proposed, but Oropher shook his head.

'He is quite skilled with a forge, but not so much. This spear is a work of a visionary, few in this world would be able to create such a masterpiece.' he said remembering shape of a long spear and all the encrusted patterns in it. 'And it's not possible to make it with an average forge.'

'You got me curious now.'

'I assure you that not only you are curious about it.' Oropher said. 'The spear's name is Raumo, Champion of the Wind.' then he added. 'Raumo means Storm in Qeunya.'

'I neglected my lessons in Quenya lately.' Arvellon muttered more to himself and he crossed arms on his chest. 'Do you think that he-?'

Oropher thought for a moment about the question that remained untold. He got those thoughts himself and yet Amdir said it would be too simple.

'Nothing certain.' he said finally. 'But one thing is sure, he is not one of the Edhil.'

'But he is one of us.' Arvellon said. 'He is in Doriath since the beginning.'

'Since the beginning.' Oropher repeated in thought, seed of meaning behind those words slowly started to flourish. 'You are right.'

Then all of sudden and briefly knocking, Bressil barged into his office almost out of breath. It was clear she was in a hurry to get here as soon as she could.

'Forgive me the delay, General!' she said saluting before him, but Oropher waved it away.

'Arvellon told me everything.' he said and this time it was his younger cousin who saluted before him.

'I will come back to my duties, Sir.' he said and when Oropher relieved him, Arvellon walked away. After their pleasant talk it was high time for them to come back to work and Oropher turned to Bressil who awaited his words.

'Captain.' he started. 'At the first constellation of middle-spring you will leave Menegroth to the forest of Region where you will travel to the farest settlements in the area. With every meaning of the placement.' he precised. 'Do you accept this responsibility?'

'Yes, Sir!' Bressil saluted once more and Oropher saw very well known sparks in her eyes. It was a mix of excitement and hapiness with pride to be chosen for such duty.

'Your team will contain at least two more divisions, beside your own.' he continued. 'I give you a chance to choose divisions that may possibly accompany you.'

Bressil's surprise was quickly lost in analysis. She had many fellow captain to choose and yet she decided upon those which Oropher suspected the least.

'I would like to take captains Aglaron and Arvellon with me.'

When Bressil said it, Oropher was cought in a bit of surprise. Finally, Arvellon's dream will come to pass. True, he already left Doriath to go to Ossiriand, but he had Oropher and Celeborn as companions. If he will take up this duty, Arvellon will only have his own soldiers on side and other fellow captains. This will be entirely different experience and everything Arvellon wished for.

'They serve under the Banner of the Wolf.' Oropher said and Bressil nodded at those words. She no longer held such nervousness – she quickly adapted to situation and became familiar with presence of her direct commander. One day she will make a great one herself.

'I know, Sir, but our divisions often train together and we are very used to each other. It won't be hard for us to balance a team.'

'You are aware that Arvellon and Aglaron don't like each other.' Oropher said which was understatement, but Bressil cleared her throat.

'Since their memorable...duel, and duty at the Gate, their relation improved. As I said, we often train together.' she said. 'All of us.'

So, Arvellon managed to make a friend out of his rival. A wise kid, indeed. It would explain all the situations where he saw them together around the same space.

'They are good choices.' Oropher said not digging through the matter anymore. 'Go and talk about it with General Egnaspen, but I doubt he will decline. Keep me updated.'

'Yes, Sir!' Bressil saluted and with a bit of mix feeling she turned to left the office, but before she was gone Oropher stopped her.

'Captain.' he said a bit more sternly as he sat back behind his desk. 'The sooner the better.'

'Right away.' she said and changed her way going deeper into the building instead of out of it and in a moment Oropher heard few knocks on the door of Egnaspen's office.

Bressil wasa good choice for this duty - she had natural skills to become a high ranking officer. Leaving her as she was would be a loss of great potential. Though she surprised him when she said she would like to travel with Arvellon and Aglaron, he saw nothing against it. And if it was indeed truth that relation of those two improved, then it may end even for the better.

Oropher hoped to have a time to segragate his papers, but he was not alone for long. It was another elf who walked inside and it was once more an elf very well known to him.

'Sorry I had to leave all of sudden.' Alagos said immediately. 'My mother called for me and she seemed a bit panicked so I went to see what happened.'

'Is she alright?' Oropher asked remembering that Elweth was always overtaken by stressful situations. She was a bit chaotic and forgot about many things, but Oropher always thought about her warmly and in turn, Elweth treated him as if she was his aunt. In his time, he used to spend quite a lot of time of Alagos's home and he was always welcome there - she made sure to treat him more like a friend of Alagos than a Prince.

'Yes, everything is fine.' Alagos said. 'Her mare started to foal and she didn't really know what to do. It was not really of that importance to call for me, but since I was already there I helped out. And now my mother has a beautiful colt.' he looked at the desk where previously piled up a huge stack of reports. 'Where are the papers?'

'I gave them to Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu.'

'Oh.' Alagos just said. 'Then I will look for them and help out.'

'Check your own ranks first.' Oropher said still focused on flipping papers. 'Do you know where is the reckoning report?'

'Saida already gave it to Mablung.'

At those words Oropher immediately stopped with what he was doing and looked up at his friend.

'Why?' he asked, irritated that he lost so much time. 'Who allowed it?'

Alagos eyed him and came back inside the office as he was almost already out on the corridor.

'You did.' he said and Oropher sighted more to himself getting one pile of the papers on the floor. He didn't remember it happening, but he trusted it was a truth. He focused a bit more when Alagos started to talk to him again. 'You seem discracted. Is everything alright?'

Of course Alagos would notice, he knew Oropher well. Not counting few elves in his youth and beside Rivalt, Alagos was the elf with whom he had something similar to a relationship and he was always very close with Alagos. His specific romance with Alagos started even earlier than he got together with Rivalt - when that happened, Oropher treated this relationship seriously and he no longer met up with Alagos. Which Alagos understood, just as now Oropher acknowleged that he his friend was with Lalveth.

After Oropher ended things with Rivalt, he slowly came back to Alagos who embraced him once more though he never pushed Oropher to come back to their old ways. However, in time Oropher coped with what happened between him and Rivalt and he started to spend more time with Alagos. They lasted in their strange affair for long centuries - no wonder that they knew each other so well and that Alagos will notice that something gnawed him.

'I'm alright.' Oropher said, but then he added a short sentence that needed no more words. 'Rivalt came to visit me.'

Alagos sighted delicately and his eyes darkened. Oropher told his friend everything that concerned Rivalt and what really happened between them. No wonder that Alagos never felt all too warm feelings towards the elf, but from what Oropher knew, Rivalt didn't like Alagos as well. Oropher suspected that he used to be even jealous about Alagos.

'It's fine.' he said before Alagos pursued this matter. 'I made sure he won't come here again.'

He didn't want his friend to get at odds with Rivalt, it was better if those two would stay away from each other. Oropher knew that Alagos was capable of showing his contempt to Rivalt though Oropher told him not once to not get involved in this. And Alagos listened to his request by staying out of it. Oropher won't let it change now.

And before Alagos said something, Bressil was back.

'Sir, General Egnaspen agreed to my request. He will assign his captains under command of our Banner.' she said and then looked at Alagos who was her commanding officer and she saluted. 'Officer!'

'Well done.' Oropher said. 'Inform them at once and start getting prepared for your duties. Officer Alagos will watch over it.'

Bressil nodded and left her officers, immediately getting on to her assigned duty and without further ado Alagos took his leave as well.

'I will get to my own work.' he said and within a moment he was already gone leaving his commander in the office.

Oropher sighted, finally having necessary time to get his papers done. Probably, Saida will be back in a while and she will immediately take care of her regiment. After Alagos will check his own ranks, he will help Amrun, Tinnu and Halloth while Orthon and Nelledir had everything under control. He will have to assign Saida to lead Faron's regiments and he had to remember to ask about Orthon's report concerning the newly form cavalry division. Beside, he wondered how Rawoneth was doing. Maybe he should have asked Arvellon about this?

But for now, he just hoped to get done this pile of papers which will probably get him all night to do. At least it will be a calm and productive night, he thought getting an atrament closer.

[myrkvidrs]

I continue to read in Elf Problem fandom, just not terribly fast--which pretty much describes the pace of Tolkien fandom in general. (EXCEPT LATELY, HOLY CRAP, THE FALL OF GONDOLIN IS GETTING A BOOK, THAT WAS JUST ANNOUNCED TODAY!!) But I still have a lot of feelings and there's still some absolutely gorgeous, utterly rewarding fic being written, so here HAVE SOME ELF PROBLEM FEELINGS.

TOLKIEN FIC RECS: ✦ Bridges by Bodkin, thranduil & legolas & ocs, valinor, 27.7k       Legolas and his wife's father just cannot get on. But elven life is long - and understanding will grow in time. If only they can learn to listen to each other... ✦ Boromir's Return by Osheen Nevoy, boromir & entire lotr cast & some ocs, 522k       Boromir awakens from his death and finds himself in an unexpected situation. ✦ The Dragon of Rohan by French Pony, faramir/eowyn & appearances of aragorn & gimli, 11.2k       Following the first real fight of their marriage, Faramir learns a little bit about Éowyn's past, which prompts a change in their relationship. ✦ Quenta Narquelion by bunn, feanor & maedhros & maglor & elrond & elros & feanorians & cast, 119.5k       Fëanor, dead, watches the First Age unfold and from time to time, joins in. Canon-compliant character death and a detailed account of the Eastern Front of the War of Wrath. ✦ In Courts of Living Stone by ncfan, maeglin/finduilas & eol/aredhel & melian & cast, 31.2k       Maeglin and Aredhel never flee Nan Elmoth for Gondolin. Twenty years later, Maeglin finds himself in Menegroth on a mission for his mother, seeking another road to freedom. But he is unprepared for what awaits him there. AU. ✦ Three by Geale, aragorn/legolas/arwen, nsfw, 7.3k       One is unbearable, Two is desirable, Three is completion. Legolas left Minas Tirith soon after the War to spare himself the pain but when duty calls him back, everything has changed. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - Estel en-Aderiad by Fiondil, celeborn & galadriel & elrond & glorfindel & elladan & elrohir & legolas, 3.4k       A group of Elves journey to Mordor at the end of the Ring War to find closure and something else. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - The Blue Wizards’ Dilemma by Fiondil, the blue wizards & ocs, 3.7k       They were sent to bring help to the tribes of Men who had rebelled from Melkor-worship in Middle-earth. They were doing well in their mission until a fateful invasion put an end to their plans. Now they had to come up with a new one. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "in sickness, in health" by Mira_Jade, beren/luthien, 1.6k (for this chapter)       It came upon her slowly, like a whisper of the wind before the rains came. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "who touches the pupil of my eye" by Mira_Jade, aule/yavanna & saruman & namo/vaire & thingol/melian & luthien & nerdanel, 1.5k (for this chapter)       Prompts: See, Hear, Touch, Sense, Smell ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "so there will be no forgetting" by Mira_Jade, bilbo & glorfindel & thorin, 3.2k       Magic, Gandalf had said when they entered the valley, but Bilbo Baggins was quite certain that the Grey Wizard was mistaken. For this had to be more than even that. ✦ Return to Aman by bunn, elrond & maglor & cast, 151.6k       A loosely associated series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth. ✦ Oropher, Thranduil, Legolas by KayleeArafinwiel, thranduil & legolas & cast, 1.1k       Snippets and bits about the journey of three scions of the House of Elmo, the burdens of lordship and kingship, and the joys of fatherhood and childhood. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "made for whispers" by Mira_Jade, celeborn/galadriel, 4.6k       There were times when the knowledge of just how far away from home she was caught her by surprise. full details + recs under the cut!

✦

Bridges by Bodkin

, thranduil & legolas & ocs, valinor, 27.7k

     Legolas and his wife's father just cannot get on. But elven life is long - and understanding will grow in time. If only they can learn to listen to each other...

      I never used to think too much about reading fic with a lot of OCs, but Tolkien fandom (at least the Thranduil & Legolas parts of it) almost kind of demand it, if you want to build something for them, and I'm at the point where I hardly even notice it anymore and instead just jump right in with those authors who are really good at building up the world around them, while not losing sight of the characters that I'm really here for. So, Thranduil and Legolas and their family in the Fourth Age in Aman? Where Legolas is hurt and trapped in a cave-in with his father-in-law who doesn't really like him and they have to find common ground and a better understanding of each other, while the rest of their family searches for them? Sign me up for that! And it was like sinking into this nice, warm bath to read, it was so easy and comfortable and warm and spot on for what I wanted, that there was some satisfying Legolas whump, there was Elves being Elves, there was just really good, lovely writing and fantastic characterization (they all felt 

spot on 

to me!) and it was incredibly engaging. It was the right length for the story being told, it did a great job of balancing all that it was trying to put in there, and was just a really, really good read that got me back into wanting to read about these characters again! ✦ Boromir's Return by Osheen Nevoy, boromir & entire lotr cast & some ocs, 522k       Boromir awakens from his death and finds himself in an unexpected situation.       I do not know where to begin with this rec, because I'm not sure how to encompass everything that this fic is! When I first picked it up, it sounded like it could either be great or it could be terrible--such an unassuming title and summary, using a first person narrative, the importance of an OC in the beginning, a truly impressive length at well over 500k. All of these seem like red flags being thrown up, if you've read much fic over the years. But I thought, well, I can just read the beginning, see how it goes, it's long enough that I can read quickly and not have to worry about savoring it. So, I started to read and was nearly instantly sucked in--and maybe it wasn't until a chapter or two later that I realize it, but this fic is masterful. Every choice the author makes in this fic is one that I support--the OCs are absolutely necessary, but even more than that are wonderful, I came to care about Boromir's new friend just as much as any canon character, he was beautifully written and the friendship between them tugged at my heart something fierce. The first person narrative is actually a great choice because it allows for getting into Boromir's head in a way that a third person fic would not, it allows the fic to show so much more of his character than could have otherwise been achieved. And, holy shit, the length was pitch perfect. This fic never flagged, it never felt overly drawn out, every scene was a joy to read, everything contributed to the greater whole, the pacing was fantastic so that I kept wanting to read what was coming next, no climax felt like an ending or the aftermath a let-down. Instead, I can scarcely look back to the beginning and see how far these characters and this story came without it feeling like I started the fic another lifetime ago, in the absolute intended way that I should feel looking back on this fic.        It covers so much of the events of LOTR, but from the point of view of Boromir in Gondor, unable to return to help the rest of the Fellowship, to give new events that found the perfect balance of what happened in canon versus how things would change in this AU. The events themselves were true to the spirit of the story and the narrative, I 100% believed this fic every step of the way--and the author showed their work, making every step clear how things happened and unfolded and made it so interesting along the way. The blend of action versus the moments between the fighting, the rebuilding of Gondor and Boromir's life, all of it was incredible.        But, oh. The best thing about this fic. The characterization was magnificent, every single step was brilliant for every single character. Boromir himself is breathlessly perfect, but also the characters around him shine with such fascinating presence, from the Hobbits to the other Men to the rest of the Fellowship, everyone is seen through Boromir's eyes, how he feels about them, but also you understand that he comes with his own biases. It was incredible to read every single scene with Aragorn, how human he is in this story without making him anything less than the incredible figure of the books. It was fucking awe-inspiring how well Denethor was written, how complicated and difficult and charismatic he could be, how Boromir saw all his faults, how he was not an easy man to be around, but you also saw his strength and his motivations and what drew people to him. I never doubted why Boromir or Pippin or the rest of Gondor loved him so much.        I've been reading this fic over the past two months and it's been my comfort place, the fic I pick up when I just want to read something that totally engrosses me, the fic that just made me happy to read, even when things were difficult for the characters. I could have easily read another 500k or more of this fic, I feel a little bereft now that it's gone from my life, and it still stuns me how well used everything is, how everything is so incredibly true to the canon, and everyone is so layered and individual and fascinating. It might seem daunting or not that interesting, but it's truly one of the best fics I've read in any fandom, not just this one, and the length doesn't matter because time seemed to lose all meaning while I was reading, it just slipped by me as I was engrossed in the world this author created. Everything is done to perfection and I honestly am sad that I have no more of this author's work to read. ✦ The Dragon of Rohan by French Pony, faramir/eowyn & appearances of aragorn & gimli, 11.2k       Following the first real fight of their marriage, Faramir learns a little bit about Éowyn's past, which prompts a change in their relationship.       I enjoyed this story so very much, both for the building of Faramir and Eowyn's relationship as well as the glimpses into her past, why she feels so strongly about a certain element in her home. I love how their relationship is portrayed here, it's not perfect, but it's so good , they're still somewhat getting to know each other, but they manage to work things out and make everything even better between them, and I'm just delighted by the sense of a beginning here, how they're building their home and their marriage and their life together. The addition of Aragorn and Gimli in their respective scenes was further a delight and it made the whole thing just an absolute joy to read. ✦ Quenta Narquelion by bunn, feanor & maedhros & maglor & elrond & elros & feanorians & cast, 119.5k       Fëanor, dead, watches the First Age unfold and from time to time, joins in. Canon-compliant character death and a detailed account of the Eastern Front of the War of Wrath.       Rec #1: When I first picked up this fic, I wasn't really sure what I was going to get or where it would be going, with Feanor's spirit refusing the call to Mandos and how that would affect things and what it would all mean. What I got was a bit of an exploration of what it meant to be a bodiless spirit in Middle-Earth, but then more and more an exploration and expansion of the storyline of The Silmarillion from that point on. It's gorgeously written and pulled me in hard, it gives such detail and depth to the storyline and the events that happen, especially once the attack on the Havens happens. It's also an exploration of what the Oath does to the sons of Feanor, how they do/don't react to it, how it drives and directs them--in a way that's woven around all the other plot stuff that's happening. This is fascinating all the more because Feanor himself is watching as a spirit, one who cannot really speak with the living without danger (as the living and the dead should not speak to each other) and this gives him the breathing room to step back from his anger and really see how his actions have created this tidal wave of effects. It's beautifully done for how it doesn't excuse Feanor or his sons or their followers, it doesn't try to make villains out of the people they attacked, but still makes you understand why they do what they do and have such deep sympathy for them. You understand why Elrond and Elros love them so much. You understand why the Dwarves are such longtime friends of them. You understand why many Men are longtime friends of their as well.       This is also in a fic where there's such thought put into the magic and arts of the world, the music and spirits that linger and the words of power and how they're tied to the fate of the World and what it means to be Elves. It's a fic that has so many moments from The Silmarilion given life , like what it's like to be in that part of the world when the Valar themselves finally come to fight Morgoth and the devastation it leaves in their wake, what it's like to spend that many years fighting and fighting and constantly having to struggle to get up when you have no hope left, all of it wrapped up in really beautiful, thoughtful characterization. I wasn't sure I'd like another fic (at least not for a long while) after Return to Aman hit so many of the buttons I wanted, but this one just knocked me over and wouldn't let me get up until I'd read my way through all of what was available (and I'm recommending this now because it's regularly updated, so even as a wip, the rec will stand!) and it's one of those that makes this fandom satisfying to be in!       Rec #2: I wasn't sure what to expect when I first picked this fic up--Feanor as a spirit watching over the events to come? And what I got was one of the most satisfying pieces I've read in awhile, that it starts as a Feanor piece, but it's also just as much (and sometimes moreso) a story about giving detail and breathing life into the story of the First Age, the story of the Feanorians. It's got gorgeous worldbuilding (the use of songs and various abilities, the power in words and voice, the touching of minds, the ability to call on things, all of it is blended together with the story in a way that utterly made sense to me, it felt like Elves, especially ones from the First Age) and it's gorgeous characterization and it's gorgeous canon gap filler. It's a story that takes the frame of canon, then builds and builds on it, so that it's this really coherent narrative, both in terms of the worldbuilding and in the characters--you get why the Feanorians do what they do, your heart breaks for them as they slide more and more into evil, because they aren't evil, but they have done so many evil things that they are inseparable from it. It doesn't dismiss the terrible things they've done, it doesn't deny that they truly did evil, but also it shows why they're so beloved, why Elrond and Elros love them, why their story is worth telling. On a narrative level, it's kind to both sides and that gives the story such depth and brilliance that a flatter reading of it (one side or the other being entirely ~bad~) would never have reached.       I enjoyed the story for the structure of it, the building up of various abilities (the Elves' magical powers just fit so well into the world that I could easily take it all for canon) or the Dwarves or various other Elves (besides the Feanorians or the Peredhil), all of that is gorgeously done. But the moment I will always remember most came in the second to last or last chapter, with Feanor watching over Maedhros and Maglor at the end of all of this, that got me. It got me so hard that I sat there in public, with tears welling up in my eyes, because I was affected by these characters and their journey, the way they were written. It's a beautiful piece for the Feanorians, you can feel the affection for them as characters without losing what makes their story tragic, that they have become evil through the sheer scope of the things they've done, and yet I want so, so badly to save them, because I fell in love with them over the course of the story all over again. And it's not just me being a fan of the characters, it's truly that the writing is gorgeous, that everything the fic sets out to do, it achieves, and I wish I could articulate it better, how much I loved reading this, how good it was, how well it did everything, because it really helped me through some tough times when I needed it, just by being so good. ✦ In Courts of Living Stone by ncfan, maeglin/finduilas & eol/aredhel & melian & cast, 31.2k       Maeglin and Aredhel never flee Nan Elmoth for Gondolin. Twenty years later, Maeglin finds himself in Menegroth on a mission for his mother, seeking another road to freedom. But he is unprepared for what awaits him there. AU.       I did not know how much I needed this AU fic until I read it and had such trouble putting it down! Maeglin accompanies his father to Menegroth, a letter from his mother hidden on him to ask for help, and there he meets Finduilas and tries to find the best way to speak to Galadriel and pass her the letter without his father noticing. There's such thought and care given to the worldbuilding of Menegroth and the Elves here, what that place must have been like, what it's like for the Elves living there, what it was like for Maeglin and his limited experience. It's such a great piece for his character, it really does such a fantastic job with this poor kid who has been hidden away and is so inexperienced and so ground down, but still desperately wants to do something , even amongst his fear. It's a really lovely look at how things could have gone better for him if he'd met someone more suited to him, the dynamic with Finduilas just sparkles here, it was a relationship that I absolutely fell in love with and it had such a natural grace.       But also Menegroth as a whole! The little details of how it affected Maeglin, the stars on the ceiling, the pulsing feeling of everything, the way Melian was so otherworldly, like she was there and yet not, the way she felt alien and such a heavy pressure to her. She's like Menegroth here--there's something genuinely terrifying about her, yet also beautiful and wonderful. The way such life was breathed into Finduilas as a character, she had such a vibrancy about her that you could believe everything here was plucked straight out of canon! It's a fic that achieves everything it set out to do and, sure, I'd loved another 30k for a sequel fic, but also I was satisfied with what was here--it was fascinating and a beautiful piece to read. ✦ Three by Geale, aragorn/legolas/arwen, nsfw, 7.3k       One is unbearable, Two is desirable, Three is completion. Legolas left Minas Tirith soon after the War to spare himself the pain but when duty calls him back, everything has changed.       Every time I read Aragorn/Legolas/Arwen fic it just further cements that I really do love this trio more than any single pairing and this fic just fed further into that. It's wonderfully balanced, especially the way it starts as more Aragorn/Arwen + Aragorn/Legolas, but eventually does become a trio, because, you know, Elves. It's a blend of angst and happiness, it's aching to read at first, but such love comes through that I felt entirely warm after reading it. There's a brief bit of sex that's lovely and hot, too, but it's mostly that I believed this scenario for them that really got me. ♥ ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - Estel en-Aderiad by Fiondil, celeborn & galadriel & elrond & glorfindel & elladan & elrohir & legolas, 3.4k       A group of Elves journey to Mordor at the end of the Ring War to find closure and something else.       This wound up being one of my favorites in this fic collection, where a group of Elves journey to Mordor to see for themselves the land of their fallen foe. Once again, the balance between all that's been lost, the heart of things, and the hope found amongst the rocks and hard ground, is wonderfully done. The moments each character gets to think on what (and who) they've lost, the aches they still carry with them, but that eventually they pull through to a lightness of heart again, it's very Elven and had me eating this fic up like candy. It's nicely done as a group piece (which is not always easy!) and as an aftermath piece. ✦ Tales from Vairë's Loom - The Blue Wizards’ Dilemma by Fiondil, the blue wizards & ocs, 3.7k       They were sent to bring help to the tribes of Men who had rebelled from Melkor-worship in Middle-earth. They were doing well in their mission until a fateful invasion put an end to their plans. Now they had to come up with a new one.       Given how little we know of the Blue Wizards, it could be difficult to come up with an interesting story to tell about them, but given how much I've enjoyed the other fics in this collection, I was perfectly willing to give this one a shot as well. And it is interesting to see what the author did with the scraps of information we have, how much was built up in such a short time, how the focus on these singular moments in the middle of greater plot machinations tell so much and how humanized these characters (both the actual humans and the wizards both) were. Even going in knowing very little, I felt like all of this absolutely made sense to me and that's a great achievement. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "in sickness, in health" by Mira_Jade, beren/luthien, 1.6k (for this chapter)       It came upon her slowly, like a whisper of the wind before the rains came.       This was a really lovely and sweet moment with Beren and Luthien, how she gets sick for the first time after becoming mortal and how it's kind of quietly terrifying, but she embraces it in the way she always does, as well as Beren is just so kind and charming here, you can absolutely see why Luthien loves him so very much, why this life with him is so very worth living. It's a sparkling, warm-hearted piece that really captured one of those quiet moments that shows just how much deep and true love there is here. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "who touches the pupil of my eye" by Mira_Jade, aule/yavanna & saruman & namo/vaire & thingol/melian & luthien & nerdanel, 1.5k (for this chapter)       Prompts: See, Hear, Touch, Sense, Smell       This is a series of shorter ficlets connected through a themed prompt set as well as a sense of loss and difficulty, how each of these characters deal with such things. Aule's loss of Mairon, a favored pupil, Namo trying to understand the process of death in the early days, Nerdanel mourning her losses, and so on. It's a lovely set and adds these little touches of something you can really empathize with when it comes to all these characters. ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "so there will be no forgetting" by Mira_Jade, bilbo & glorfindel & thorin, 3.2k       Magic, Gandalf had said when they entered the valley, but Bilbo Baggins was quite certain that the Grey Wizard was mistaken. For this had to be more than even that.       One of the most frustrating parts of Peter Jackson's movies is what they've done to the Elves, especially the Hobbit movies, even having set them from the Dwarves' point of view. This is a lovely look at Bilbo learning a bit more about the swords they carry from one who is very familiar with them and then another lovely look at Bilbo telling Elven tales, showing the depth of them to some who would like to deny it. It was a nicely cathartic read for me, as a fan of these characters and this history, but it's also a really great look at giving depth to the time Thorin's company spent in Rivendell, fitting between the scenes of the movie very nicely! ✦ Return to Aman by bunn, elrond & maglor & cast, 151.6k       A loosely associated series of stories about Elrond's return to Aman at the end of the Third Age. All these assume that Maglor son of Fëanor was one of the other unnamed Elves who accompanied Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo on the ship when they left Middle-earth.       I don't even know where I'm going to begin with this! I read this entire series over the course of about a week, the only thing that kept me from devouring it all at once is that I didn't want to run out of it too quickly--and, yet, here I am all caught up and desperately wishing I had another 80k+ to read through right now. It's a collection of stories about Elrond and Maglor journeying to Aman in the Fourth Age, about healing and humor and what comes next for the Elves, now that their time in Middle-Earth has ended and they have to actually deal with seeing a son of Feanor again, that Maglor has to deal with the Oath and what he's done and his sorrow over it. I'm interested in these things just for themselves, of course, but this fic series has been absolutely incredible at giving such sharp personality to everyone, that Finrod has such an incredible sense of humor and rolls with a joke, that Nerdanel has such common sense, that Elrond may be younger than most of the Elves here but he's Seen Some Shit as well as he has an incredible way with building bridges between people, that Bilbo and Frodo are such Hobbits and genuinely feel different from the Elves, that Nimloth has to be experienced rather than described, that Celebrian seems so delicate and yet has such strength to her, all of it is incredibly sharp and brilliant. I came to this fic for the concept and the lore, but wound up staying even more for the sheer gorgeous characterization and deftness at which this really feels like these characters' thoughts, feelings, and actions.       Which isn't to say that the lore isn't incredibly well done, too! The story feels just a little bit formal in the way the Elves speak to each other, there's just a touch of poetry in their words and actions, but in a way that's incredibly smooth and engaging to read! And the bits of worldbuilding, the way they see into each others' minds or the way their power works, that Maglor knows he could use his harp and voice as a weapon possibly even more deadly than his sword, that the Oath is a burning thing in the minds of Feanor's sons, that the time in the Halls of Mandos is not so easily described. All of this add such richness to the story being told, all of this is why I'm fascinated by the Elves! And I wish I could write a better rec for this series, I wish I could write a rec for each of the (at current) eleven stories, because they deserve it, because they utterly enraptured me and satisfied me on an emotional level. It's a story about forgivenes and where that line is, that Maglor has regretted so many things, that they weren't just monsters, they were thinking and feeling creatures as well. That he has to live with the fury that's aflame around so many Elves that he hurt, but also that he struggles with pride and his own wounds, the loss of family.       It's a story that makes the Feanorians sympathetic again, that doesn't excuse what they've done, but that holding onto grudges never heals anything. I'm incredibly on the side of the people that they hurt, but this fic got me feeling things for the Feanorians all over again, especially because it's so very clear that Maglor loves dearly and hates what happened, that it destroyed him in a way he'll likely never recover from, especially not with the strength of Elven memory. But it's still a road worth walking, coming back to life and healing. And, oh, even the one conversation between Nerdanel and Feanor here had me practically rolling over in my bed to clutch my reader to my chest for the sheer amount of feeling it gave me. It's a fic that's so beautifully written all the way through, that has such care put into it and different perspectives considered and finely written dialogue that it really, really earns the slow burn redemption that it's going for. It's an incredible story that I'm so glad I'm getting to read. ✦ Oropher, Thranduil, Legolas by KayleeArafinwiel, thranduil & legolas & cast, 1.1k       Snippets and bits about the journey of three scions of the House of Elmo, the burdens of lordship and kingship, and the joys of fatherhood and childhood.             These were very short snippets of fic that were lovely to read and I picked them up because I, too, headcanon that Oropher was from Elmo's line, though, I don't think you really have to be that familiar with The Silmarillion to enjoy this! They're shorter fics and really cute scenes, very much about the care and feeling between the Elves, just little details to fill in the world and connections between them all. It was a lovely read today! ✦ This Taste of Shadow - "made for whispers" by Mira_Jade, celeborn/galadriel, 4.6k        There were times when the knowledge of just how far away from home she was caught her by surprise.        I have definitely been on a Celeborn/Galadriel kick lately, especially takes on their early courtship days and how the reveal of the Kin-Slaying events and the tension between the Noldor and the Sindar would have affected this relationship. It's a look at such a strong character like Galadriel, who has her pride and her sorrow both, that she feels stained and cursed, that in a way she truly is, and doesn't want to spread that to this Elf she is coming to love, but also will not settle for crumbling under the weight of what she bears. The way she moves from Artanis and Nerwen to Galadriel, the way she is proud and unbreakable, the way she grieves for what they've all been through, all of it is so Galadriel. And the way these two interact with each other, the sharp connection between them, the pull that neither of them could possibly deny, the strength and elegance and grace of both of them, the sheer might of both their presences in a room, all of it is very, very nicely done and suits them so well. I can easily see this as how things might have gone!