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meluiloth · 4 hours

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The Trial of the Golden Flower: Chapter One

The Golden Flower sleeps in the Halls of Mandos, unaware that he is dead.

It is a quiet place, and dark too, so that the dead may rest quietly without disturbance. It will be many, many years before they are woken.

"He must not be woken, Manwë," Námo says sternly, fixing him with a warning look. The two Valar linger just outside of the sleeper's chamber, Námo barring the Elder King from passing.

Manwë can only catch a glimpse of the Elf's golden curls around the corner, as still and bright as the metal it brings to mind. He is not breathing; his body perfectly still, now only a vessel for a dormant spirit that, if Námo has his way, will not stir until Arda is healed. Manwë pulls his gaze back to Námo, his brow furrowing. "So he is to be left like this - a corpse in a hall! He deserves more than this, for his valiant deeds. He deserves to be revived."

"It is against the laws of Life and Death to bring a dead soul back to life," Námo insists. "What you are suggesting is a cruelty, not a kindness. Please, leave him - he may wake if our disturbance is too great."

"What do you imagine he would say if he knew his life hung in the balance?" Manwë retorts.

"It is not his life that hangs in the balance, but his death," Námo reminds him. "Would you rob him of his rest, of the peace that he has earned, and thrust him back into that painful existence?"

Manwë's wings flutter agitatedly, and he glares at Námo - but the Lord of Death's pure white eyes stare back without a hint of relenting. "Why do you think he ought to be sent back, among all other heroes? His friend Ecthelion has recently found his own place here, yet I do not see you argue for his life."

Ecthelion drowned in a fountain, Manwë thinks sullenly, but of course he would never say this. "...Never before has a Balrog been slain by an Elf," he says. "Not even Fëanor could manage it. The Elves have suffered long at Melkor's hands, and perhaps we ought to send them a warrior who can protect them, one who is not so limited in the ways he is permitted to interfere."

"So to send them that warrior, you would break your own limitations to interfere."

Manwë hesitates. "Yes."

Námo looks long and hard at him, weighing his words carefully; Manwë has always been the heart of the Valar, but Námo is its mind. Though Manwë may rule them, he has always listened well to Námo's counsel, for he too saw the value in logic.

But sometimes, thinks a small part of him, the head must bow down to the heart.

He sighs. "Manwë, what you are suggesting has never before been done, or even considered - but since you are both my friend and my King, I will do as you ask and reembody this Elf before the Great Healing."

He lets his sentence drop like a gavel in the air, and Manwë smiles brilliantly - but his exultation quickly fades into confusion when Námo does not step away from the door.

"Well?" Manwë asks, gesturing his taloned hand toward the sleeping Elf behind them. Here Námo smiles, though his skin is so transparent that Manwë can hardly see it.

"On one condition," the Lord of Death says, raising a glassy finger. "You must convince me that this Elf is worthy of a second walk upon Arda."

Manwë's face twists. "Haven't I already?"

"You have persuaded me to consider your proposition, but now the battle moves from my heart to his." He turned to the still Elf in the chamber. "Make me want to revive him."

For a moment, both Valar glare at each other, light and dark, neither willing to give in.

"I accept your challenge," Manwë finally says. "Now ... Where to begin?"

Here is my first piece for @glorfindelweek! I know it's late, I was really pressed for time, and also had to think of something quick. Think of this as a prologue to the rest of my works, which will be about Manwë and Námo deciding whether or not Glorfindel should be revived - as the only Elf this has ever happened to (I believe) it is a very big decision!

If you'd like to be part of a taglist, let me know! I hope you enjoy!

#the silmarillion #fanfic #my writing #glorfindel #Glorfindelweek #Fandom event #namo mandos #manwe

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meluiloth · 8 hours

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Organised some of the crafts/art of the recent local tolkien meetup & my group's activity was to design Middle-earth sigils for characters & groups that didnt yet have any

Here's my Elves of Mirkwood banner ^^ (specifically for the mirkwood, not greenwood time i guess)

#tolkien heraldry #mirkwood #thranduil #tolkien art #not my art!!#mirkwood elves #silvan elves #tolkien sigil #lord of the rings #the hobbit

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meluiloth · 2 days

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Legolas (1978) Art Dump

The Ralph Bakshi animated Lord of the Rings movie is weird, but Legolas’s design is peak. He’s just a funny little guy! I had a lot of fun messing around with these drawings.

I’ve also noticed that I draw Legolas a lot, but I have absolutely no consistency. I really need to settle on a design for him 😅

#lord of the rings #art #my art #lotr #legolas greenleaf #legolas #Lotr 1978 #sketches #Art dump

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meluiloth · 2 days

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I actually headcanon that it was Arwen who translated and wrote the original, completed Silmarillion for humans! In my headcanon, Gondor has the biggest library in the world, which was much expanded after the War of the Ring and after Elrond left Rivendell and left his library to his daughter. After Aragorn's death, Arwen spent her last years translating all the histories from Elvish to Westron (possibly even exchanging letters with the original scribe/scholar, Pengolodh, since no one ever knew what happened to him?) and compiling it all into The Silmarillion. She has ties to a lot of the original First Age Elves and Men, and her father Elrond had a personal relationship with both the Feanorians and the Numenoreans, and that combined with Arwen being one of the last Elves left in Middle-Earth would make her feel it was very important that the history of the Elves continue on in the world.

#lotr #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #tolkien elves #lotr theories #tolkien legendarium #arwen undomiel #arwen #elrond #pengolodh

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meluiloth · 3 days

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Unwritten Fic Ideas Game

I was tagged by @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras to participate in this game (thanks a lot!!) and I had to sort through my work-in-progress ideas (which I listed in this post) and my unwritten ideas, a few of which are included in the aforementioned post. Fortunately, I do have a few others that I haven't even started writing. I will say that these ideas are very rough, don't seem to go anywhere so far, and probably will never be completed!

Basically, my ideas come first from characters that I dream up, and as I develop their backstories and personalities, I think of compelling plots for them! Unfortunately, it takes a very special combination of elements to result in a well-formed, plausible story for these characters, and a lot of them just end as concepts, which is what you'll mostly see here. I also feel like because a lot of my fics center around original characters, I have to work a little harder to earn people's interest in my stories (especially since the characters in question aren't the traditionally moral, attractive, and skilled characters that a lot of the readers on my preferred platform naturally gravitate to, Esandryya especially).

Another reason these stories haven't really taken off the ground is because I always write from my heart, and if I'm going to write a story, it has to have a deep and real meaning that compels me (like Healing Hands, Traitor, and Misfit). If a story idea doesn't have that, I probably won't end up writing it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways, enough about me, here are the ideas!

Tooth and Claw - Basically a comprehensive research novel written by Sauron about his development of the werewolves, which will then follow the story of a young, later-generation werewolf who escapes from him and does her own thing in Harad (likely to join a band of Haradrim renegades seeking to overthrow Sauron). I do actually have a bit of lore for this story, particularly about the main character, her friends/family, and Sauron's development of the werewolves.

Finglain - Finglain is just a character floating around in my head who I really love (I actually created him during an rp!). He is a prince of Sirion, albino and deaf (but he's incredibly good at Osanwe to make up for his lack of hearing). His father is an exiled Noldo Lord and whose mother is a Sinda Lady. Basically, his family's goal is to find a way back to Valinor (because both of his parents deeply yearn to go to Valinor, his father because he regrets leaving and his mother because she regrets not following Orome in the first place), and because Finglain doesn't technically have the Curse on him, a lot of hope rides on him to find a way, and his story would be about his search for Valinor. He befriends Osse and Uinen and gets captured by Sauron at some point. Because I feel like he doesn't have a substantial story, I haven't really given much thought to writing one about him, but maybe someday...

Cuithil - I feel like this guy has a lot of potential, I just don't really know a story for him. Cúroen is a Maia of Irmo and Vaire, whose powers are of dreams, illusions, and prophecies. His purpose was to deliver Irmo's dreams and Vaire's visions to the peoples of Middle-Earth, but he desired to make his own dreams, rather than just delivering ones created by Irmo and Vaire - but Irmo said it was not his station to create. Infuriated and resentful, Cúroen fled their service and lived in Helcaraxe for many years, trying and failing to perfect the art of dream-weaving. Melkor learned of his existence while he was in Valinor and saw an opportunity to corrupt Cúroen, so he sent Mairon to try and persuade him to join them. Cúroen listened to his words and decided to join them, becoming Fuithil, Master of Nightmares. He dwelt in Angband mainly for the purpose of honing his experiments (always wanting to find the secret to making dreams), and was perfectly content to follow Melkor's orders of using his nightmares on captives to interrogate or torture them, usually driving them to insanity. In the Second Age, he and Mairon worked together to try and overcome Numenor; Fuithil fabricated a 'prophecy' for Ar-Pharazon, in which he conquered the world with the help of Annatar. However, when Numenor fell, he was overcome with grief, shame, and terror, and he realized how terrible all he had done was; he returned to Valinor in shame, begging forgiveness from the Valar, and was sentenced to prison in Mandos for an Age. In the Third Age, he was released - but too ashamed to return to the service of Irmo, he pledged himself to Nienna.

Anyways that was super long, but I like to overexplain and I love talking about my characters, so if any of you are interested to know more, send asks!

Tagging @frodothefair, @dreambigdreamz, @sotwk, and anyone else who wants to participate!!

#lord of the rings #the silmarillion #my writing #fanfic #meluiloth speaks #tag game

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meluiloth · 4 days

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Thoughts on Elrond Week - coming in with best intentions, I'd suggest checking in with the folks running Half Elven Week which gets a lot of Elrond already. The event is very well balanced from what I've seen.

Single-character events are getting a bit saturating honestly and it makes it hard to participate if you're not into that one super big character. Maybe turn it into Rivendell Week or some such.

Just a thought, cheers!

Thanks for reaching out! I'll definitely ask @halfelvenweek about what they think (just to make sure the events wouldn't be too similar).

About single-character events, I do think that Elrond himself has an expansive enough lifespan (and is well-known enough) that an event surrounding him would have a lot of depth, especially since he touches a lot of other characters and historical events - I'd end up including other characters in his prompt list. (I do understand what you mean, so I'll keep your suggestions in mind to make sure the event isn't narrow or limited!)

#lord of the rings #Asks #meluiloth speaks #Elrond #Elrondweek

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meluiloth · 4 days

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The Hobbit Aesthetic: The Woodland Realm

#the hobbit #hobbit aesthetic #thranduil #woodland realm #mirkwood #Mirkwood Elves #Silvan elves #Lord of the rings

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meluiloth · 4 days

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AAAAA MY SISTER IS STRIKING AGAIN!!

This 13 year old girl just crocheted herself an outfit to (and i quote here) ‘look and feel like a Mirkwood elf’ and she looks so freakin cool, this little nerd 😭🧡

So yeah, i am kind of showing off that i have a cool sister but also she has no social media to post on, and I wholeheartedly think her work deserves to be seen. I am so proud of her fr 😭

#lotr #lord of the rings #Mirkwood #Mirkwood Elves #Silvan elves #WHAT #THIS IS SO AMAZING #I crochet but am NOT this good #Tolkien

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meluiloth · 4 days

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Elrond Week

Hello all Middle-Earth fans! I've been thinking about an idea for a while now, and I've just decided to throw it out there and see if it sticks:

Would anyone be interested in a week-long fandom event centered around Elrond Peredhel? His life is so long, and so rich, that I think there is a well of potential there worth exploring and celebrating!

I don't really know how to organize an event, so it might take me some time to figure out how it works (any help and advice would be much appreciated)! I do really like this idea and I hope that I can make it a reality in the future if any of you would want to participate and support it!

@elrondweek

#lord of the rings #lotr #the silmarillion #the hobbit #fanfic #fanart #fandom event #elrond #elrond peredhel #elrondweek

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meluiloth · 5 days

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I love Okra

#art #my art #rain world #rain world lizard #rain world green lizard #okra #not Tolkien

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meluiloth · 5 days

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We did it, Folks! Okra and I are best buds.

(I didn't end up having to feed him anything, because two Vultures attacked us and I worked my butt off to save him from getting eaten, which gave me MAJOR brownie points. I got a cool mask too, but a scav stole it >:( )

Thank you for your help, @slugfishh, @randomgods, @kociamieta, @the-summy-sum, @phishtoast

Bonus: Okra's wiggle dance

Rain world players, I have a bit of a dilemma. This lizard crawled into my shelter (industrial complex) and stayed the night with me, but he is definitely not tame. In fact, if I'm not careful, he will eat me before I can even crawl out of the shelter. However, I am now determined to tame him, but I really don't know how. I have died so many times (mostly to him) and I am slowly losing my sanity. Any help would be appreciated!

(tagging @kociamieta, @randomgods, @slugfishh

#rain world #rain world survivor #rain world lizard #gameplay #rw #okra #not tolkien

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meluiloth · 5 days

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Legolas would be goblincore.

#reblog if you agree #he's just a funny little guy!#he would love cosmo sheldrake #and I already headcanon that he collects cool bugs and things in the woods #also I would kill to see Legolas wearing goblincore outfits #mirkwood elves #legolas #goblincore #tolkien elves #headcanons #lord of the rings #mirkwood

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meluiloth · 6 days

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I just got my gallery in a box from @loish, and it's so beautiful!! The cards are thick and matte, and the colors are so vibrant. All of the artwork is gorgeous and I can't wait to display them (shown are a few of my favorites)! I'm so lucky to have gotten these - thank you for making them, Loish!

#art #Loish #Artists on tumblr #Not Tolkien

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meluiloth · 6 days

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(tagging @kociamieta, @randomgods, @slugfishh

#rain world #not tolkien #rain world survivor #rain world lizard #help #gameplay #rw #I'm naming him okra #It was between that and 'stupid loser'#But that's too much of a mouthful #okra

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meluiloth · 7 days

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The continuation of 'How Elwing Lost A Silmaril' is wonderful! You absolutely nailed the first scene where she does the trade. I was so baffled on how to actually make her give up the silmaril when the time came but the way you wrote it felt so natural and perfect!

And the fact that Maedhros didn't approve of this and wants his bothers back! Definitely got me thinking about how the third kinslaying could still happen even if Elwing hands over the Ambarussar when the Feanorian army shows up (though of course it could be the case that since the Ambarussar did this trade for the silmaril, the Oath might compel them to stay loyal to Elwing, which opens up some painful possibilities of them fighting against Maedhros).

So many lovely ideas! Which wanted to stop over and tell you how lovely your story is!

Thank you so much, both for your kind comments and for letting me make this addition in the first place! I'm really glad I could do this story justice - and all those ideas of yours are awesome (I hadn't even thought about them before, but now I can totally see how Amrod and Amras's decision can make everything that much more complicated :0)! I love how a story can spark so many different ideas and possibilities.

#the silmarillion #fanfic #how Elwing lost a silmaril #collaboration #asks #meluiloth speaks

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meluiloth · 7 days

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Moments passed like hours as she stared at the two Elves kneeling before her. A storming sea of emotions crashed in her mind: bewilderment, fear, a fair amount of relief that the dreaded attack had not come, but most of all, a well of anger was growing. Rage and bitterness churned at the sight of these two Fëanorians, these two monsters who were responsible for taking everything she had ever loved and then some. Her childhood had been devoured by the war they had started, her current life rotting away beneath the crown that had been forced upon her because of them.

"Lady Elwing," said the dark-haired Elf behind the twins, breaking her from her thoughts. "Do you accept this offering?"

She looked up at him with sharp eyes. She realized she hated him, and the one who sent him, perhaps more than she hated the two 'offerings' kneeling before her; what kind of a depraved wretch would willingly give up his family for the sake of an heirloom of a dead Kinslayer? The thought of the Silmaril in his hand was more disgusting now than it was before.

Still, she knew that she had to make the trade - she either kept the accursed gem, or her life. She took a deep breath and reached into her bag, pulling out the Silmaril and holding it up; though the morning was yet to grace the sky, the gem glowed so brilliantly that it looked like a miniature Sun in her palm.

The Fëanorians' eyes widened with hunger at the sight of it, and Elwing waited for a long moment - savoring the desperation in their faces - before she held it out to the messenger, who took it gingerly, with a golden cloth so that it would not touch his hand, and quickly placed it into his satchel.

"We thank you for your grace on behalf of my family, and my father," said one of the Ambarussa, taking a moment to look longingly at the gem.

"And we thank you for accepting our trade," said the other.

Not another word was spoken as the messenger turned and rode away into the darkness, the sound of his steed's hooves fading to leave the three remaining Elves on the beach.

After another long moment of silence, Elwing looked down at the Ambarussas, who were still kneeling. "Rise."

They obeyed her, their movements identical as they stood to face her directly. They were only a little taller than she was, still far smaller than the rest of their brothers, and thinner too. The ends of their red hair were dyed; one purple, the other indigo. Had she not known what they were and what they had done, she would have thought their faces pleasant.

But she did know who they were. Her anger returned in full force as she wondered, is this what my brothers might have looked like had they been alive? Would they too color their silver hair playfully, and walk along the beach with her?

Her sword had left its sheath before she knew what she was doing, pressed against both of the Elves' necks so quickly and so forcefully that thin trickles of blood slipped from beneath the gleaming blade.

Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

That was the price of her contract with the Fëanorians, and they had agreed to it - their lives were forfeit. She was judge and jury, and their lawful executioner.

The two condemned Elves knew this; they did not even flinch, remaining still and submissive as dogs with their master.

"You deserve to die," Elwing hissed, her voice low enough to conceal the tremble in it.

The look on their faces was not one of hatred, or indignance, or even fear - it was acceptance that bordered on agreement. They must know they were monsters as well as she did.

Still no one moved a muscle; they remained as still as statues, Elwing bracing herself to finish the two Elves patiently awaiting their death ... but heartbeats passed and her body and mind were in disagreement. Her grief and hatred cried for their blood to be spilled on the white sand, but the barest whisper of compassion stayed her hand.

Was this judgement or vengeance?

Elwing grit her teeth and shut her eyes - and thrust her blade back into its sheath. When she opened her eyes, the Fëanorians were still standing stock-still, not even wiping away the blood trickling into their gold-and-scarlet armor, but in their eyes was a mixture if confusion, relief, and something akin to reverence.

"Come," Elwing said stiffly. "Rain is on the horizon and I have better things to do than waste my time here." She waited for them to start towards the castle before she walked after them.

Elwing had the twins placed in the castle's prison under heavy guard, ignoring her councilors' protests, questions, and advice; the dominant suggestion was that she have them executed to eliminate any possibility of danger - the Fëanorians were masters of violence and deception, and just because they had gotten what they came for did not mean that Sirion was safe. "Far from it," they said. "Now that two of their own have successfully made it into our city, they have the chance to destroy us from the inside out!"

"While they are disarmed, in chains, and watched by twenty guards?" Elwing retorted. "I think not - while I am not against the idea of having them executed, I will not do it on a whim, and become as cruel as they are." She did not tell them of her earlier attempt to do this very thing, and how she had been too cowardly to finish it.

"At least send out scouts, to make sure the rest of their kin will uphold their end of the bargain," suggested one of her advisors. "We will be far more secure without a Noldorin army at our doorstep."

Elwing thought this sound advice, and she nodded. "Very well. As for now, nothing is to be done to the Ambarussa until I say. I must think very carefully about this."

This said, she retreated to her chambers - but rather than ponder the issue, she seized the opportunity to crawl into her sheets and rest for the first time in weeks. The bed felt empty without her husband beside her, but at least now she might rest assured that he would not return to a city in ruins and his people slaughtered. Tomorrow she would spend the whole day with her young sons, who would not understand how close they had come to losing everything, just as she had.

She dreamed of her brothers, and her father, and her mother. Their faces looked brighter without the Silmaril there to drown them in its own burning light.

The next day, when Elwing emerged from her chambers, she found her entire council outside her door. Their faces were pale and agitated, and one of them looked about to knock on her door.

"What is the meaning of this?" she exclaimed.

The officiaries exchanged nervous glances before one of them said, "Forgive me, your Majesty, but the scouts have returned and they bear news we think cannot wait."

Elwing's brow furrowed, and she looked at the three scouts in their midst. Worry overcame her indignation, and she folded her arms and nodded for them to speak.

"We spent all day and all night watching the Fëanorians' camp, waiting for them to leave; they received their gem, but this did not seem to placate them," one of them said.

"On the contrary," added the second, "the leader grew only more agitated - he refused to touch the Silmaril and ... and he slew the messenger who brought it."

Elwing's heart dropped. "That cannot be true. Why would they do that?"

"I know not, but they are not leaving and the leader stayed in his tent with his generals the rest of the time," the third replied.

Elwing pressed a hand to her temple, willing herself to stay calm. She must not become needlessly agitated, or risk frightening her people.

One of her officiaries stepped forward. "What shall we do, My Lady?"

Elwing thought for a long moment before a solution struck her. "We will speak to the Fëanorians we have in custody. If this is a plot of their making, we will wring it from them."

She strode past them and down the long flights of stairs, deeper and deeper into the heart of the Kingdom, until at last she reached the prison cells. Only torches lit this place, and the air was heavy with moss. It was not a large prison - there were few crimes committed in Sirion - so the sight of the twenty armed guards crowding the hall was almost ridiculous.

Almost.

Their charges had been placed in the farthest cells, but their gleaming gold-and-scarlet armor caught the torchlight magnificently. Identical pairs of eyes followed Elwing as she marched up to the bars, glaring back at them. They bowed respectfully, but she snapped: "Do not feign reverence, Fëanorians. I have some questions for you, and you will regret it if you lie."

"Forgive us, My Lady," said the one with the burned face, a flicker of confusion passing through his eyes.

"What do you need from us?" asked the other.

Elwing took a breath. "Tell me why your comrades have not yet left Sirion, and why your leader killed his messenger upon his return. We gave him what he wanted, so he should have no reason to linger - is that not so?"

The twins' brows furrowed, and Elwing could see by their faces that they were as bewildered as she - or that they were skilled at lying. Then their eyes widened with shock, and they looked back at Elwing with expressions that were a mixture between horror and guilt.

"My Lady ... I must confess that we have not been entirely honest about how we came here," said the first.

Elwing's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Though the stipulation you made in your last letter seemed to many among us a fair, if not difficult trade, Nelyo-"

"Our brother became enraged by them," the other interrupted. "He rejected the terms and forbade any of us to act without his express approval. He was unwilling to part with us, even for the Silmaril."

As he spoke, a sense of dread began to grow in her. She felt like she knew where this was going, but if her suspicions were correct, it would mean she and her people would be in even more danger than before. "Go on," she breathed.

"He went into his tent to reply to your letter, but we ... we decided that since we were the ones you wanted, the choice was ours."

"And we swore to do whatever it took to get our father's Silmaril back."

"So, we convinced Panyaro to help us, and ... we left before anyone else could discover our plan. You know the rest."

Elwing swallowed hard, feeling the blood drain from her face. She nodded slowly. "Maedhros does not know you are here, and ... he wants you back."

The twins nodded.

I came across this amazing story by @lordgrimwing and this scene came to my mind! It took me a while to write but I'm happy with how it turned out! (This au has ne gnawing carboard!! Great job @lordgrimwing)

How Elwing Lost A Silmaril

The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.

The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.

But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.

The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.

The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.

Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart.

The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar.

I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring. Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you. Let this not end with blood.

She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.

She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.

Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.

You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot. What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command. You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me. So, what would I have? I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire.

She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did.

Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…

And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.

The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.

“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.

She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.

The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”

Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face.

#fanfic #the silmarillion #my writing #Elwing #Amrod #ambarussa #amras #Elwing gives up the silmaril au #Au #collaboration #how Elwing lost a silmaril

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