The last three I only found out about a few days ago sooooo...

Reblogs would be greatly appreciated!!

Ok so, follow up poll from this one (since I'm curious):

(please add any extra info on why/headcanons in the tags, I really wanna know since more people than I expected counted them among the best)

I've seen people mostly only complain about finding it hard to remember 'those Fin- names' in the Silmarillion (not so much in LOTR because they're all dead). But what about the El-names?

Look—

Fin- names:

Finwë

Fingolfin

Finarfin

Fingon

Finrod

Finduilas

Somewhat obscure Fin- names:

Findis

Finellach (possibly one of Gil-galad's names)

Finrun

Finvain

Finweg (one of Fingon's discarded names)

And then Finduilas in LOTR so twelve total Fin- names, and six in the Silmarillion proper.

El- names:

Elwë (Elu Thingol)

Eluchil (Dior)

Elurin

Elured

Elwing

Elrond

Elros

Elendil

Elentari (Varda)

Somewhat obscure El- names:

Elemmire

Elenwe

Eldacar (but he's in the LOTR appendices so)

In LOTR:

Elladan

Elrohir

Elanor (Gamgee)

Elbereth (also Varda)

That makes SIXTEEN El- names, five of them in LOTR itself, NINE in the Silmarillion, and three obscure names that you might not come across or remember.

So anyone who has read the Silmarillion and LOTR (with appendices) is expected to remember (or at least know) only six (6) Fin-names (but 7 people), and THIRTEEN (13) El- names — 9 in the Silmarillion and 4 in LOTR.

I've probably missed some but you see my point.

DAY FOUR: Later Generations There are many more women in the House of Finwë, from Idril to Finduilas and beyond. Did these ladies ever get to meet each other, in Middle-earth or in Valinor? How did Idril feel setting out for Aman with a mortal husband in defiance of the Ban of the Valar? Why did Finduilas fall in love with Gwindor, and later Túrin? Did Celebrían feel lonely growing up alone, with only stories about her fallen cousins to keep her company? Was Arwen’s choice truly that of Lúthien, or of Elros, and what did her daughters think of her decision to become mortal? Did Tindómiel ever meet her elvish grandparents? Do you have a theory about how some other canonical character is actually Finwëan somehow? And what about Faniel and Finvain, the dubiously canonical, discarded daughters of Finwë—can you reincorporate them into the family tree? This day is for exploring the lives of Finwë’s female descendants beyond the third generation, canonical or not.

These prompts are optional, and we are open to any content about the Finwëan Ladies whether or not you stick to our suggestions! Please tag your posts with #finweanladiesweek AND @ mention this blog @finweanladiesweek​​ so they can be easily found.  If your submission turns into a long post, please put what you can beneath a “Keep reading” divider. If you are posting your submission to AO3, you can add it to the event collection here.

@finweanladiesweek day six | original characters | isfin and finvain, daughters of idril

          For many years, Idril and Tuor were lost amid the storms of Ossë and despaired of ever finding the shores of Aman, until Gil-Estel rose into the sky and they knew hope, rejoicing in the victory of their son Eärendil. Amid their joy another child was conceived, and within sight of Tol Eressëa Idril bore a daughter, Isfin. For Isfin’s sake the Valar listened to Tuor’s plea to remain with his wife and child even though the law declared that no mortal Man may dwell in Valinor, and in the wake of the foundation of Númenor upon Elenna, Manwë passed judgement that he might live as long as his grandson Elros. As Isfin approached adulthood, Idril bore her husband another daughter, Finvain, in the presence of her mother Elenwë and her foremothers Anairë and Indis, and much rejoicing was sung in the streets of Tirion. 

          Idril, Tuor, and their children visited Númenor often, embracing Elrond and Elros their once-forsaken kin, and Eärendil shone down upon them in blessing. In time Elros passed on to receive the Gift of Men, and having prepared his soul for its next adventure, Tuor gave up the ghost the following year, leaving his wife and daughters with a fond farewell and a promise to sing with them again in the Second Music. Both Isfin and Finvain chose the fate of the Elves as had their brother Eärendil, and remained with their mother in the peace of Valinor.

The Fandoms of Princess Findis (1)

Part One

The monster of a fic started back in 2017, celebrating my self-indulgent love of creating crossover fusions, in-jokes, and worldbuilding. Princess Findis is an author, and her latest creation is Voltron. 

...

Heledir stretched out on the plush carpet of the bookroom, shifting so that the fabric of his linen undershirt rode up and he could feel the thick carpet beneath the muscles of his stomach. Head nestled in the crook of his arm, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of leather, fine-pulp paper, and ink. Also discernible if he concentrated was a faint perfume worn by the other occupant of the room, the eldest Noldor princess. Findis, firstborn daughter of High King Finwë and Queen Indis, reclined in a padded chair near the window, watching as Heledir lay prone before her. If he opened his eyes and tilted her head up, he could see her shoes and the hem of her gown. It was one of those new style gowns of pale cotton belted high just below the bust-line with narrow sleeves and a low neckline, mimicking the styles of lost Beleriand. Findis’s gown had a decorative trim along the hem, and Heledir amused himself by trying to decode which pattern had been reproduced. Imitation Haladim, he decided, with the stylized acorns and oak leaves and the diagonal motifs. Heledir wondered what the odds were on if Findis herself had embroidered the hem. Fashion in Valmar was keen to mimic the mortal Edain these days, and some of the trends baffled Heledir. Powdering gray and white streaks into one’s hair was just as obnoxious and pretentious as the former fad in Tirion of bleaching hair blonde. He had yet to see anyone wearing false beards, though he and Edrahil had a good laugh over reports of such. Findis’s slipper-clad foot shifted forward, and Heledir chuckled and rolled over. “Apologies, Princess. It is so quiet here. This peacefulness is a delight after the press of the city.” “That is why this sanctuary was built,” Findis replied, her voice husky and deep for a woman. Heledir found it pleasing. “Now do you wish to assist me today, or lounge around like an oversized cat? If I wanted their companionship, I would go to the library of Vairë across the street.” Bands of colored light from the stained glass window played across Heledir’s face as he grinned. “I am awake, Princess. I was awake for hours last night. Still pouring through the backlist of your publications since we last visited; I think I have solved which one of the plays was based on your work, though I wish it was not such a hassle to find transcriptions of the performances. It has been too long since I have attended a play. And it has been a delight to read new words from you. I have missed them.” “Yes, there would have been much for you to read. Since you left for Beleriand with my brothers, sister, and nephews and then got all of yourselves killed.” Findis sighed. “I was not as productive during that period as I could have been, especially during the deployment buildup, but during the fifty years of the War of Wrath I admit that I needed something to distract me.” “Those romances were well-written,” Heledir said. “The rich matchmaker, and the one about the couple reuniting years after being persuaded by family to call off the betrothal.” The identity of the anonymous lady who authored many popular romantic novels had been a great mystery to delight Tirion during Heledir’s childhood, and the reveal of a name, Finvain, for the second print circulation of the most popular romance -and that said name was a kilmessë to hide the authoress from public acclaim- inflamed her eager and expanding audience. Before the Darkening, few knew that Finvain was Princess Findis or that she had several other pen names to hide just how prolific and varied her story-telling output was. Had Heledir not been privy to the royal household through his friendship with Prince Arafinwë’s eldest, he might have never learned of Findis’s double life. Finvain was an open secret under the light of the Sun, yet even in the fourth or fifth reprints of her prose epics and light-hearted comedies Findis did not sign her father-name to them, preferring to attribute the novels to Finvain. It was a name that she allowed no one to address her aloud. A strange mask, Heledir found it, that Findis would not allow this distance to be bridged even now, nor did she reveal to any but family and a few confidants that there were other hidden names. Or how fond she was of collaboration on tales. “I think your writing has improved, but I understand why neither are as popular as the one you wrote when I was a boy, the couple who misunderstood each other and that disastrous first proposal.” Findis arched an eyebrow at him. “I find it peculiar how you enjoy the love stories best of all.” “Naturally,” Heledir said, waving his other hand up in the air where the colored light transformed his hand into a solid red, including the thin ring he wore on his first finger. “I am a champion for lovers.”

Princess Findis laughed at this, shaking the small writing desk beside her chair and knocking a blank sheet of paper to float across the room and land on the carpet. Heledir smiled and lowered his hand, waiting for Findis to lean back into her chair. The single blue gem of the thin golden tiara in her black hair glinted like a star in the night sky. Princess Findis was a comely woman instead of a great beauty, but her wit and strength made her Heledir’s favorite of the older generation of Finwions.

The favoritism was mutual, for Heledir was one of the trusted few to know all of Princess Findis’s anonymous works and pen names, to know that her hand and clever mind created more than just the romances and societal comedies to which she (as Finvain) was praised. At least three libertos for popular ballets and more than a dozen plays had her words or at least outlines of character and plot provided by Findis, though her talent as a lyricist remained mediocre. “Your next series is to be illustrated for children?” “Yes, a commission from my good-sister’s family. Another imaginary adventure tale, plenty of fights and memorable characters. I am playing Pitya-Eru again,” Findis explained, using her sacrilegious self-made term for when she provided the rough outline of a plot and descriptions of characters and premise parameters for other artists to fill in the details, as Ilúvatar set forth the Songs for the Ainur to sing but whose vision was not fully realized until the Ainur entered the confines of Arda. “With full cartoon drawings, hence my request for your deft hand at designing characters as well as your advice for the story. Something colorful to take advantage of their dyes. The Handions take pride in those.” Anairë’s family employed a veritable army of scribes in Tirion, their workshops the most established, respected, and busiest. The main business partner of Anairë’s family was Handë, who used his extensive connections among his fellow Vanyar to provide talented artists and calligraphers. His daughter marrying Fingolfin’s second son had only strengthened the family alliance. Their monopoly on government-related publications continued unchallenged from when Finwë was alive, but their shops also specialized in musical notations and fictional works. “They’re Vanyar; they love brightly colored illustrations. Couldn’t care less about the synthetic jewels, but when Aulë’s students created bright dyes to paint their houses...” “Homesick for Tirion’s plain white buildings already, Halatir?” Findis teased. Heledir sighed. “When people describe Valmar, they draw attention to the hundreds of bells. They speak as if that is the city’s most prominent feature. They speak not of the colors. Colors that do not belong together on the exterior of one house, next to other colors that clash both individually and in the collective whole. Street after street of monstrous color.” “Is not one of your companions a painter of rooms and houses, when he is not riding across all of Valinor delivering packages and messages? I have seen the inn that he lives in.” “Fân?” “Yes, Fánawë. Fân. It is still strange to remember to call you by your Sindarin names. Forgive my lapses.” Heledir smiled fondly. “It is impossible to resent you, Princess.” “Many did,” Findis said, “and deeply so. And must I remind you that I gave you permission long ago to address me as Findis and not my title? You were not so formal as a child, Heledir, when you and Finrod fetched books and gossip for me back in Tirion.” She stressed their Sindarin names as she spoke, and her foot tapped against the floor in an unconscious gesture that spoke of her agitation. “Fân has a Vanyar mother, and thus he plasters colors on his lodgings instead of what he wears. Still, he could not rival Egalmoth’s ostentation if he tried. Or the eyesores of Valmar.” Princess Findis, Daughter of Finwë and Indis, gave her companion a look with an eyebrow arched stronger than before. “Get off the floor, Heledir, or at least sit up while I speak with you. And where is your doublet?” Lagourishly the elf stretched and rolled into a sitting position, then reached for the errant piece of paper. “I draped it over the back of the bench by the other window with my cloak and boots. Over a year and I still have not readjusted to the heat. Beleriand was a colder clime.” Findis huffed and slid off her chair, tucking the skirt of her thin cotton gown demurely around her feet. “I shall not loom over you as we talk, Heledir. If you are to be my assistant, I desire a collaborator and not a sycophant. Now help me with the new series.”

Deerskin (aka Donkey Skin) fairy tale au Finwe/ Feanor

Wikipedia: “One day his wife died, after making him promise not to marry except to a woman whose beauty and attributes equaled hers.  The king grieved, but was, in time, persuaded to seek another wife.  It became clear that the only woman who would fit the promise was his daughter."

_-_-_

Miriel died, and Finwe grieved. He knew that never again would he find anyone with such beauty and such passion as hers. Their only son, Feanor, was the one bright spot in Finwe’s days, even as he mourned that Feanor was alone. He had always dreamed of a large family, with all his children playing together. Instead Feanor was serious and solitary, isolated by genius and royalty and his mother’s death.

The years passed, Feanor grew, and Finwe tried to move past his wife’s death. None could match her of course, but perhaps he could find someone to be content with. He began spending time with Indis of Valmar, who was pretty and smart and would make a perfectly fine mother.

Feanor was enraged at the attempt to make a new family - one that he saw no place for himself in. Oh, Finwe claimed that they would all get along, but that was an obvious lie. There would be a succession of little children who would all play joyful games Feanor, already old enough to be apprenticed, was too old to be entertained by. So he would be off to the side, not hated but simply not considered, and the pattern would not break when the children did grow old enough to be interesting. They would have their jokes and memories that Feanor had no part in, just as every other group Feanor had tried and failed to join, and those would be what they built their relationships as adults on. And Finwe would see the chance of pleasing Feanor alone or all the others, and as the just and wise king would do what worked for the majority rather than privileging one.

Feanor would not stand for that to happen. He yelled and screamed as he had not before. He made eloquent speeches on the dignity of marriage, and biting insults to Indis and the Vanyar in general.

Finwe was entranced. He had never seen this side of Feanor before. He did not back away from his pursuit of Indis, watching every time as Feanor became more wild in his fury. Finwe even went so far as to petition the Valar for allowance, though he knew by now that he could never be content with Indis.

In time the Valar agreed that remarraige could be permitted in this case, and all of Tirion was awaiting an announcement of the wedding day.

Then Finwe broke off his engagement.

Indis was confused, but Finwe spared her little attention as she returned to Valmar. His thoughts were on Feanor, and how to spark that passion and creativity.

Feanor was off balance, as if a boulder he'd been pushing with all his weight was suddenly removed. He wanted to feel happy, but instead was nervous that his loss of Finwe had only been delayed, not prevented. He snapped at his father and argued, trying to see why Finwe would go to all this trouble to be permitted to start a new family, and then back down at the last minute. Finwe would engage and argue, but only ever to a limit. Then he would go silent, and Feanor could tell there was a tremendous secret his father was hiding.

Was Feanor himself so inadequate, that Finwe could not bear knowing that Finwe would never get another try at a child? A remarraige to anyone, to get any child at all, would be sufficient to surpass him? Feanor didn't like the idea, but it fit.

Feanor refused to accept that. He would become the greatest of all, so Finwe would have no choice but to respect and treasure him, even if the love went away. He left Tirion and apprenticed himself to a blacksmith.

The royal guard brought him back less than a week later. The master blacksmith was asked to move into the palace though, and agreed, so Feanor studied under him. Feanor didn’t understand why Finwe cared so much to keep him close, but he was glad of it.

Finwe watched Feanor learn about smithwork and grow in his skill. Feanor needed little provocation to speak at length about the latest technique he had mastered or a difficult piece he was working on.

The passion in Feanor’s voice and the spark in his eye at such discussion was just as enthralling as Miriel expounding on her weaving.

Years passed. Feanor became friends with the master blacksmith, and friendly with the smith’s children, but always Finwe was first in his heart. 

Feanor was a wunderkind of a smith, mastering the basics in a few years and inventing his own improved techniques before he had studied for a decade. Though typically an elf was not declared a master of their craft until after they had reached their majority, it was obvious that there was no reason to hold Feanor back so. The ceremony was planned for nearly two years before Feanor came of age, on the first day of spring.

Feanor worried greatly in the weeks leading up to the ceremony. Finwe had not spoken at all of marriage since Indis, and Feanor had no idea why. Finwe obviously wished for love and companionship beyond that of a son, as well as for more children to raise and take pride in. The silence was hiding something, some reason Finwe didn’t want Feanor to know. And the silence would be broken someday, as Finwe would not be content to be single indefinitely.

There was one obvious reason that fit. It was cause enough for Finwe to not share his plan with Feanor, and had a deadline after which Finwe would remarry without guilt: Elves view their offspring’s childhood as a time of greatest importance. A new romance would draw Finwe’s attention away from his eldest son as Feanor grew to maturity. So Finwe was playing out the clock, focusing on Feanor now so he would not miss anything irreplaceable if he ignored Feanor later.

And Feanor was nearly an adult.

The day of Feanor’s graduation same, bright and clear with the first flowers blooming. Feanor managed to look solemn and awed rather than on the verge of tears. The festivities lasted all day, but at last Feanor was able to retreat to the solitude of his chambers.

When Finwe entered the room, Feanor’s heart started to pound. When he said he had a serious matter to discuss, that he had waited until Feanor was old enough to fully understand, Feanor clenched his fist to keep from shaking with terror at the obviously imminent breaking of their relationship.

Feanor nearly wept in relief when Finwe revealed his true intentions. Finwe did not wish to be parted from Feanor at all! Instead he loved Feanor far more deeply than Feanor had ever suspected.

Finwe asked Feanor to consider marrying him, and think on it for however long it took to be certain of the answer.

Feanor responded by kissing his father on the lips. If the way to keep Finwe close was simply to love him, and let him love Feanor, that was a price Feanor had no questions about paying.

Their wedding ceremony was combined with the celebration of Feanor coming of age, the single day being the largest celebration Tirion had ever seen.

írissë arafániel < írimë lalwen < írien ?

It puzzles me where the íri in Lalwen’s father-name came from, especially since her elder sister Findis is so very clearly named after their parents Indis and Finwë. I had discontentedly assumed that she must be named after one of her grandmothers but now I wonder if she, like her namesake Írissë, was named after a paternal aunt. Perhaps that is who Írien is, rather than one of Lalwen’s daughters?

The lack of a discernible pattern in the daughters’ father-names in the family when basically every son gets a patronymic irritates me. Aredhel named after an aunt, Galadriel after her father, Arwen after her maternal grandmother, Findis after both parents. With only half a Noldorin princess named after her mother, Írien the Aunt seems a better bet than Írien the Daughter.

Does it follow that Indis and Írien were close? Or did Írien remain unsure about her brother’s remarriage and honouring her in Írimë’s name was meant as a placating gesture?

(Now I finally have a suspect I am happy to accuse of being Glorfindel and Aranwë’s royal forebearer.)

All the inconsistencies around the names and number of Indis and Finwë’s daughters makes me think there is in-universe text called ‘Daughters of the House of Finwë’ about the Finwean women – Írien, Findis, Lalwen, Finvain, Aredhel, Galadriel, Idril, etc – with details about their looks and interests but little about their relationships. One surviving into the Third Age in fragments with the sole intact section being the table of contents. One based off a collection of songs from Tirion rather than a genealogy. Fun to think about Galadriel hunting down the minstrel because the initial version of her ode is basically just a hundred lines comparing her hair and the light of her eyes to Telperion and Laurelin with nothing about her athletics or debating victories, and intimidating him into composing a new song about every single time she told Fëanor ‘no’ instead of just the ‘three strands of hair’ incident.

In some drafts of the genealogy, Finwë had three daughters by Indis: Findis (as their first child), Faniel (as their third), and Finvain (as their youngest).

Faniel moodboard

Legendarium Ladies April: (12/30)

The Silmarillion characters: (75/?)

Characters’ moodboards: (327/?)

//So Lalwen Irime was originally named Finvain but it later got changed... what if Finvain was the name of a different member of the House of Finwe? I mean we don't know much about his daughters (including the original third daughter Faniel) so Finvain could be the daughter of one of them.

You know. I’ve got several WIPs in varying levels of completion. It’s been a while since I finished one of them or shared pieces of ‘em. Here are some snippets from a few of the ones that I’m particularly fond of right now.

The snippets will be below the cut since it’ll make the post a little long.

-*-*-*-

From WIP doc currently titled The Unknown is Nearby. The fic is set during the Flight of the Ñoldor and about Findis and Lalwen.

Írimë would return and Findis would kiss her cheek and greet her son with great cheer. That was the vision that she would cling to during the dark days ahead. She would sing of Fëanáro's beautiful smiles and Ñolofinwë's brilliant grins and Arafinwë's laughing eyes.

How could she imagine aught else but that?

Findis's heart could bear the wait. She would bear it.

Findis's smile brightened. She cupped her sister's face and hummed a sweet gentle note.

"Come back to me soon, dear heart. Ammë and I will wait for you. And bring our brothers with you. For we will wait as long as we need."

She would carry the memory of this moment with her for as long as she needed to. Until her sister's return.

The darkness would not linger. Nor would it drown them.

-*-*-*-

Untitled WIP starring Finduilas and Andreth. Simply because I can.

"You remind me of him."

"Who, my lady?"

"Why, your uncle. My Aegnor."

The Lady Andreth was no great beauty. Not by the reckoning of the Eldar

But...there was a quality about her.

Her eyes, the deep soulful brown of the does and stags of the woods that surrounded fair Nargothrond, were lovely and filled with a bittersweet sorrow. Her face was round. Her mouth small and well-formed. Age had created furrows in flesh that had once been taut and smooth with youth.

There was a kindness there in the curl of her lip and the crow's feet that clung to the corners of her eyes. Gentleness lingered on the woman's weathered brow. She had hands that had become gnarled with age. Callouses could still be found among the soft skin from years of holding quills and pens and putting thought and argument to crisp paper and fine vellum.

But Finduilas could see hints of wrought-steel in the adaneth's bowed shoulders. A fire as hot as her cousin's forges burned steadily behind that understanding gaze.

-*-*-*-

Another Untitled WIP. This one about Faniel and Finvain.

Faniel shifted, eyes narrowing as she peered into the dark room.

The forge was still and silent.

There should have been dust caked into every single space, uncovered and not. But there was none.

The room was spotless. The window far to her left was shuttered closed but there was no sign of wear on the dully gleaming wood and metal frame. Tools should have been scattered across surfaces. And yet, they were hung in neat little rows across the walls and left in their places on the worktables.

It looked as though its master had simply left it hours ago.

Not decades before.

There was a sense of expectation in the still air. Not melancholy.

The room awaited its master's return.

"Faniel." A small voice hissed sharply at her from the corridor. "What are you doing, sister?"

from "Asteraceae" [2019] j8k.space/asteraceae 

"Strain" Christ-as-Beggar beckons Yamaceratops to snatch barberries Both strain out a tangy moan, as if to say 

“Will we ever be at home here?” 

[borrows from Mad P0et (@v0lt8ir), “Finvain beckons”; Joni Mitchell, “The Boho Dance”]

Ok so I did the Fëanorians - now for something more divisive:

DAY FOUR: Later Generations There are many more women in the House of Finwë, from Idril to Finduilas and beyond. Did these ladies ever get to meet each other, in Middle-earth or in Valinor? How did Idril feel setting out for Aman with a mortal husband in defiance of the Ban of the Valar? Why did Finduilas fall in love with Gwindor, and later Túrin? Did Celebrían feel lonely growing up alone, with only stories about her fallen cousins to keep her company? Was Arwen’s choice truly that of Lúthien, or of Elros, and what did her daughters think of her decision to become mortal? Did Tindómiel ever meet her elvish grandparents? Do you have a theory about how some other canonical character is actually Finwëan somehow? And what about Faniel and Finvain, the dubiously canonical, discarded daughters of Finwë—can you reincorporate them into the family tree? This day is for exploring the lives of Finwë’s female descendants beyond the third generation, canonical or not.

These prompts are optional, and we are open to any content about the Finwëan Ladies whether or not you stick to our suggestions! Please tag your posts with #finweanladiesweek AND @ mention this blog @finweanladiesweek​​ so they can be easily found.  If your submission turns into a long post, please put what you can beneath a “Keep reading” divider. If you are posting your submission to AO3, you can add it to the event collection here.

@finweanladiesweek day seven | freeform | finvain and faniel

In all these tables there are still three daughters of Finwë and Indis: Findis, Faniel, and Írimë (see X. 207, 238, and also X. 262, where Finvain appears for Írimë), and no correction was made. In the excursus Faniel has disappeared, and the younger daughter appears both as Írimë and Írien...

—History of Middle-earth: Volume XII: The Peoples of Middle-earth, “The Shibboleth of Fëanor”

Breadroll (aka heget is too meta for her own good)

OF the elves leaving the Halls of Awaiting to walk once more among the living with a new body -a not uncommon occurrence in this New Age- rarer still but not unknown to us were those that chose to be reborn as infants with all memories of their life before that unfortunate death locked away until proper healing could address those traumas, if indeed any memories were returned. A certain grief, irrevocable separation, or quirk of history could make this choice the preferable option as opposed to the normal process of rebirth to which we are so accustomed. 

Such rebirth was common, if one dared use that adjective, during the Time of the Trees when those spirits that found themselves in the Halls of Awaiting were few. Of those afforded this second childhood with a clean slate of memory were the dead from Cuiviènen and the Great Journey that heeded the call of Mandos, or those that had died in the Moonless dark of Middle-earth and braved the journey to Valinor. For those souls, the memories of the abandoned Far Shore (this being the time before the Exile and the coming of Eärendil) were too painful or brief to hold, and happiness was to be found in relinquishing those memories. Otherwise the memory of whom were lost and the sorrow on their behalf poisoned the joy and healing of Aman. Often enough, these souls did not have family in Valinor to take them in, or separation had occurred in those earliest of times when Imin still ruled, or as in one particular case in which this author is intimately familiar with, the elf died while still in his infancy before the Arrival of Oromë and thus had no memories of to whom could rightfully claim him as their lost child. As in the case of that particular infant, these newborns from the Hall of Awaiting found new and eager parents in Valinor, joyously adopted by those couples that could not or chose not to conceive. The lord of Sornion, this author can attest, is the son of two great-hearted women. Rarer still, but not unheard of, was the case of an unmarried couple or single parent to adopt a child. The Twice-born Children were not left in wont of warm homes in our fair cities of Valmar, Tirion, and Alqualondë, nor was there a stigma to be found against these adopted children, quite the opposite, for they often had a cleverness and speed to re-learn skills that set them above their peers. As the number of dead returning to us from the care of Mandos grew, also too grew the inhabitants of Tol Eressëa and Valinor itself who could recall the wilds of Beleriand and the struggles of life beyond our idyllic shore. Thus fewer infants with bleached memories exited the Gates of Mandos in the arms of Maiar eager to present the child to an awaiting parent to raise.

But during the month of Narquelië, the Sun-fading, a newborn infant wailed for the first time in the night sky of Valinor on the doorstep of the Halls of Awaiting, and no one was coming to claim the infant boy. The Maia informed those that asked about the red-faced infant that his name was Tolumasso, named for how the thick bright yellow hair whorled atop the crown of the baby’s head just like the spiral of that innocuous bread-roll. An amusing name for a child, one most ill-befitting the hostile stares given to the screaming, lonely infant. One would be forgiven for doubting that an elf not even an hour old could be the object of revulsion and dismay, but by unhappy Doom had rumor been unleashed and the origins of this sun-haired infant known. No family would rush to take in this Tolumasso.

Who would wish to raise an orc?

- So begins the opening paragraph of the best-selling romance series in Valinor, by the prolific Finvain, with copies distributed by enthusiastic mariners throughout Númenor and subsequent retellings and re-imaginings making it one of the most popular purely fictional epic adventures found throughout the island, especially among young people, until the cultural backlash against the elves via the King’s Men meant that all versions of the tale were burned and the only surviving copy of The Gallant Tale of Tolumasso that one could read east of the Straight Road was a dog-eared book, signed by the author, in Master Elrond’s personal library.