#Turgon x Finrod | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 month

Text

Abominations of the flesh

Day 5 Prompt: New companions

For: @feast-of-horns | Requested by MoonLord

Rating: E

Pairing: Celegorm/Curufin/Turgon/Finrod

Themes: NSFW | NSFT

Warnings: Kissing | Incest | Celegorm and Curufin are up to no good

Wordcount: 3.2k words

Summary: Celegorm and Curufin are convinced there is something more than friendship between Turgon and Finrod. Turgon and Finrod think otherwise. Their cousins are determined to show them there is more to their bond than they think.

Minors DNI | 18+

A/n: A big thank you to @cilil and @urwendii for their help with Turgon's pre-Alqualondë personality and the idea that inspired this fic.

This is also available on AO3

The feast was a riotous affair. Many ate and drank their fill. A few ate and drank more than they ought to. Some sang bawdy airs. Others laughed. Many and more prepared themselves for the chase that was to follow. Turukáno was scandalized as he observed everything taking place around him.

“Do all of the Valar conduct themselves in such a debauched manner during these feasts?” He whispered to his cousin in disbelief.

“Not just the Valar, cousin.” Findaráto was as taken aback as he was, but his curiosity remained undiminished. “The Maiar and their attendants, and even our fellow elves.”

Turukáno, his cheeks aflame, touched the crown sitting amidst his hair. Gold horns inlaid with brilliant white enamel gleamed as they rose from a thin gold band full of diamonds. A hunter’s crown, it was, and it was only proper, the others had said, for a high prince of the Noldor to take on the role of a hunter.

I should not have agreed to this, he thought when he found himself yearning for the comfort of Tirion’s great library and the fragrance from its many tomes and stone tablets. I do not belong here. I should have remained in Tirion.

He glanced at the others. His sister, Írissë, stayed close to the Great Huntsman and his lady, whispering. Oromë was in a high mood, as was Lady Vána. The Ever-Young was particularly taken with his sister, and on more than one occasion, she uttered something that made Írissë laugh.

“My sister is by herself,” he said, and he drained the last of his wine. “I must see to her.”

When he tried to rise, Findaráto grabbed his arm by the wrist. “Leave your sister be.”

“I must tend to her.”

“Chicks and elflings need tending, cousin. Your sister, on the other hand, does not. Leave Írri be. You will only draw unwelcome attention to yourself and to me if you do not.”

Turukáno scoffed softly, but he heeded his cousin all the same. He made himself comfortable in his seat and called for more wine. Someone laughed. It was thunderous and carefree at the same time. That laugh came from none other than Tyelkormo. Turukáno dared to look his way. His uncle Fëanáro’s sons were seated at the same table, though not all of them lingered after their plates and goblets were taken away. Nelyafinwë rose to speak with Findekáno, and Makalaurë took his leave of his brothers when Laurefindelë invited him to join him and his companions. Morifinwë kept to himself, brooding as always, and the twins teased each other over their choice of adornments. Then his gaze cut back to Tyelkormo. His cousin had been studying him with a shrewd leer while his brother, Curufinwë, whispered something in his ear.

“Pray what happens now?” Turukáno—flustered—asked when Tyelkormo winked at him and looked away.

“Now we must make our way to the gathering field,” Findaráto replied, rising with the others. Lady Vána arose from her place on the dais, to fetch the Valaróma for her lord husband. “It is time for the chase.”

The chase was as rowdy as the feast, if not more so. Turukáno and Findaráto were hunters; the latter’s circlet of silver horns glinted amidst his golden hair. Findaráto took part because his curiosity would not let him be at peace. Turukáno took part because his kinsman and dear friend convinced him to, and he was not one to go back on his word after he had given it to someone he treasured. Oromë sounded the Valaróma once, and hunters silently chose their prey even as they raced into the forest. Moments passed, and the air around them thickened, feeding the anticipation that had been building since the feast began.

“Hunters!” Oromë's cry boomed across the field, startling the nearby horses and compelling the great hounds he bred to stand to attention. “Are you ready?

The roar that followed echoed through the gathering field. Then the Valaróma sounded a second time, and the hunters gave chase. Turukáno caught brief glimpses of many of those who ran alongside him. A few others he saw quite clearly. Varda’s handmaiden ran down a twisting path away from them, her robes a swirl of indigo wisps, her starlit skin and pink and molten silver hair shimmering in the starlight. He heard a sharp gasp, then a lusty laugh. He stopped for a moment to look. Ilmarë was ensnared by none other than the Elder King himself. She squirmed and giggled in his arms while he cooed barely heard words of endearment to her. His queen emerged from a thicket of trees, her dark hair falling around her like a waterfall full of little stars. They embraced each other. Turukáno turned to his cousin, dumbfounded.

“As long as there is no cleaving of the spirit, no ill-will ensues.” Findaráto grasped his hand and led him away. “Come. There is a clearing not far ahead.”

The clearing was full of flowers and new grass and large rocks thick with moss, and little else. No one could be seen. The others preferred the trees and forest floors covered with soft leaves over the open field. Turukáno made himself comfortable on a moss-covered stone and looked at the stars. His cousin sat by his side on the grass.

Turukáno said, “Do you remember the times we made our way to the highest balcony in grandfather’s palace?”

Findaráto looked at him, smiling. “We would sneak into the kitchens first and fill a basket with little cakes and sweets. Then we made our way to that balcony and tried to name all the stars. The one who could name the most stars won the right to eat most of the cakes.”

His cousin’s reply was interrupted by another who found them. “Well, well. What do I see before me?”

The voice that called to them was thunderous and carefree at the same time. They rose to face their intruder, an elf that was well known to them. Tyelkormo stood by the edge of the clearing, garbed only in hunting leathers, with horns of bone and ivory adorning his silver-gold hair and ears and waist and wrists. He held a length of silvery rope weighed down at both ends with smooth, stone balls in his hand. He had another length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. Findaráto swore his cousin looked very much like one of the Valar on the hunt—glorious, savage, and otherworldly at the same time. Then he chided himself for even thinking such a blasphemous thought. His cousin was but an elf, and nothing more than that.

“So this is where the two of you fled to.” The third son of Fëanáro regarded them with a sly smile spreading its way across his countenance. “And to talk of stars on a festival day such as this, when so many delights await you beyond these trees! I confess, dear cousins, that I am quite disappointed.”

“Tis not only you who is disappointed, brother mine.” Curufinwë emerged next, dragging a delicate silver net in his right hand. He too had a length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. “We are here at a festival that frees us to be with whomever we desire, and these two prefer to gaze at the sky.”

“Or perhaps, stargazing is not the reason why they are truly here.” Tyelkormo’s smile was a vicious thing. His shrewd, hunter’s gaze pinned his kinsmen to where they stood like they were nothing more than moths pinned to a board. “Perhaps they came to this place because they wished to do more than just admire the heavens.”

Findaráto understood his cousin’s insinuation well enough. “You assume incorrectly, Tyelko,” he sputtered, mortified. “There is nothing untoward between Turco and myself. We are friends and kinsmen, no more, no less.”

“Nothing untoward, you say.” Curufinwë’s smile was as calculating and vicious as his brother’s, perhaps even more so. And yet, it did little to mar the finely-formed beauty he inherited from his father. “But, my dear Ingoldo, what else are we supposed to think when the two of you seek only each other for company and when one of you is always coming to the aid of the other, even when there are others more skilled at the task at hand?”

Turukáno finally understood what his cousins were implying. “Ingoldo and I have never committed abominations of the flesh!”

Tyelkormo turned to face him. “Truly?” He said. “Why do I struggle to believe it?”

“Peace, brother. Perhaps they speak the truth. Perhaps they have not violated taboos between kinsmen, and what we have observed thus far is wrong,” Curufinwë told him, his crafty eyes shining wickedly in the starlight. “Or perhaps, they do not see what we see.”

“Perhaps we should help remove the scales from their eyes.”

“Indeed, brother. Indeed.”

Their cousins each took a step back, startled. “We have taken on the roles of hunters!” Findaráto cried protest.

“There is no prohibition against a hunter chasing after another hunter,” Tyelkormo remarked with a casual air.

“And we are bound by blood!” Cried Turukáno as he prepared himself to flee. His cousin could be as determined as a wolf chasing a hare when the urge to hunt was upon him. He had to be ready to turn on his heels and run as soon as Tyelkormo made a move to come near him.

“That is of little consequence,” said Curufinwë, his knuckles white against his net. “And no one will ever know, so long as we do not talk to the others. Come, now, Turco. There is no need to be frightened. We merely wish to help; that is all.”

“We will not consent!” Turukáno snapped at him.

“Ah!” Cunning gray eyes shone again. “That is where you are mistaken, cousin,” he countered serenely. “You will consent.”

Tyelkormo loosened his hold on the rope, preparing to throw it as soon as the opportunity to do so presented itself. “Remember what I taught you, brother.”

“I will, brother.” Curufinwë had eagerly listened to all that his brother had to say, for the chase was a first for him, as was the feast. “I will remember all that you told me.”

“Good.” His brother’s voice was as stern and commanding as the Vala he served when he said, “Run.”

Turukáno took hold of Findaráto’s hand and pulled him along as they ran around the thick trunks of trees that crowded too close together, barely evading twisting, low-hanging branches and gnarled roots that protruded out of the earth. He dared to stop for a moment to look over his shoulder. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë had melted into the surrounding darkness, and nothing but darkened trees and a thin, swirling mist remained in their wake.

“We must not tarry.” Findaráto tugged gently on his cousin’s arm, urging him forward. “We cannot linger here for too long. They will find us!”

They ran again, and for how long, neither could say. They ran, and they ran, and they did not halt until they reached another clearing. There was no being to be seen. There was no being to be heard. They had gone further than they had ever gone in the forests of Oromë, and they had to stop. To keep running meant to lose their way, and that was something they could not do, not while rumors of a dark creature dwelling beyond the southern borders of the forests flourished.

“Have we lost them?” Findaráto asked and stopped near the periphery of the clearing with his back to the trees. All around them stood graceful pines, mighty oaks, and giant sentinels, their leaves and branches rustling in the wind.

“I do not know,” Turukáno said. He turned and studied the trees behind his cousin, and he saw nothing but dappled starlight flowing through the thick canopy. “There is no sight of them, at least. No sound. Perhaps we did lose—”

He was interrupted when a whirl of silver flew toward him with such force that it knocked him to the ground. Turukáno could not move his arms. The rope had entangled itself around his torso He turned to his cousin for aid, but his cousin was also writhing against the forest floor in a vain attempt to free himself from the strange silver net that had enveloped him.

“Tyelko!” He called out in anger. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tyelkormo was the first to step out from among the trees; his brother followed him. Their boots fell against the forest floor with barely a sound made.

“What do you think, cousin?” He helped Turukáno up to a seated position before going down to his haunches to bind his cousin’s legs at the ankles with the other length of rope that he had. “We are going to remove the scales from your eyes.”

Turukáno did not even deign to reply. He knew he could not fight his cousin and win. Tyelkormo may not have had his great stature, but he was as strong as him, and he was the better hunter by many a league. He stole a glimpse of his other cousin. Curufinwë bound Findaráto's hands and legs, and he brought him to where Turukáno sat, his back to an old pine tree. Turukáno could only watch while Tyelkormo rose, satisfied that they could not free themselves. His cousin moved to sit apart after that, regarding them the way he would a fine meal that was ready to be devoured.

“They make such a pretty picture together.” Curufinwë dusted his hands and moved to sit cross-legged next to his brother, to better admire the sight of their captive kinsmen.

“They do.” Tyelkormo rested his hand on the small of his brother’s back. Findaráto believed it was merely a protective gesture, and nothing more. “And they believe that there is nothing besides friendship between them. How shall we help them see, brother mine?”

“With this,” said Curufinwë, before framing his brother’s face firmly in his hands, and pulling him in for a kiss.

This is not the first time they have indulged in such acts. Turukáno watched, horrified, while Curufinwë and Tyelkormo embraced each other like experienced lovers, when Curufinwë allowed his brother to take liberties with him, when one let the other tangle his hands in his hair, and when one let the other move their hands to the clasp of a belt. He looked away—ashamed at not being able to dampen the arousal he felt growing between his thighs—then turned his attention to them once again when he heard a low moan.

They look so beautiful together. Findaráto was as stunned as Turukáno by the deviancy of their cousins. Much like Turukáno, he could not look away for long. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë painted a striking image together, all silver and jet and slender, tapered hands moving in perfect rhythm with large, sculpted ones. Tyelkormo was all heat and wildness. Curufinwë was all cool restraint. He closed his eyes and tucked his head against Tyelkormo’s shoulder when he loosened the lacings of his breeches and took his erection to hand.

“Yes. Like that,” he whispered, his hands clutching desperately at his brother’s broad back. “Ah, brother.”

They kissed each other savagely, and then Curufinwë opened his eyes. They were dark and wanton, and they settled on his cousins. Turukáno had shame and lust warring with each other in his gaze. As for Findaráto, he had something akin to thirst in his. The firstborn son of Arafinwë turned to look at his cousin, his heart fluttering at the sight of his wide, beautiful eyes, his thick, dark hair, and his fine lips.

Are Tyelko and Curvo correct? Findaráto pondered to himself. Is there something more than friendship between Turco and myself? Something neither of us has seen before?

At that moment, Turukáno turned to face him. Findaráto smiled bashfully. It made him look achingly beautiful. Turukáno flushed and looked away.

No. He told himself. It cannot be true. They are wrong. There is nothing beyond friendship between us.

He regarded his cousin again. Yearning stirred in his belly when he drank in the blue of Findaráto's eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. His head spun. Thoughts of rich, fair hair caught in a spill of bright starlight and a golden voice ringing out while caught in the throes of rapture took the place of all else. Turukáno was amazed; it was as if he was seeing his cousin in another light for the first time.

Curufinwë smiled. We were right all along, he thought triumphantly. These two truly do share a bond that goes deeper than the bond shared by friends and kinsmen.

They suspected it for many days now. Findaráto would always seek the opinion of his cousin, Turukáno. Turukáno would do the same in return. If one needed aid, the other would come to them. Hours would be lost when they wove their worlds of dreams together. Lovers in all but name and deed, Tyelkormo had once said, and Curufinwë remarked that perhaps such may indeed be the case. Their plan to expose their cousins' true feelings for each other was born after this, just in time for the Feast.

“Brother,”Curufinwë groaned. Tyelkormo did something wicked to the tip of his shaft with his thumb. “Brother, I believe our kinsmen can be freed now.”

Tyelkormo turned to look, albeit reluctantly. His treelit eyes lit up when his brother said something just loud enough for him to hear.

“I believe you are right, brother,” he said, rising. His cousins braced themselves when he came to them, not knowing what he planned to do with them. Their fears were put to rest when he unsheathed his blade and cut the rope around Findaráto's wrists and ankles. Turukáno was next. Then he sat astride his lap and kissed him.

Turukáno longed for nothing more than to resist him, to bite back and bloody Tyelkormo’s lips. It was no less than what he deserved, he thought. Then Tyelkormo sighed and kissed him harder. It threw the floodgates wide open, and drowned what little resistance Turukáno had. He yielded to the wild and insistent demands of his body and returned his cousin’s kiss with equal fire, hoisting himself to his knees and taking his cousin into his arms when the warmth of his mouth continued to flow into his own.

“Perfect,” Tyelkormo all but purred when he pulled away. He still kept himself firmly seated on his cousin’s lap, his arms draped around his shoulders. Then, he turned to Findaráto. “Join us, Ingoldo,” he said, and he gestured for his brother to join them. Curufinwë took the place he always did: by his brother’s side. “No one besides the four of us needs to know what took place this hour.”

“Do I have your word on this?” Findaráto was tempted to say yes, but he had to consider the risk of discovery. If the others found out, the shame and disgrace that would surely follow should word of his sharing pleasures with his cousin spread—he and Turukáno would never be able to show their faces in Tirion again.

“You have my word as a son of Fëanáro, and a grandson of our king, Finwë.” Tyelkormo shuddered when his brother’s lips pressed against his shoulder and when his cousin tightened his hold around his waist. “Pray what is your answer?”

Findaráto took a deep, steadying breath and gripped Turukáno’s chin, tilting it to the side so their lips could meet.

#feastofhorns #feastofhorns2024 #celegorm #curufin #finrod #turgon #celegorm x curufin #turgon x finrod #celegorm x curugin x turgon x finrod #the silm #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

glorf1ndel · 11 months

Text

The case for each ship:

Finarfin/ Eönwë: My GUYS. They make a great team during the War of Wrath. They're both incredible at staying away from drama, but when the fate of the world is at stake? Finarfin and Eönwë both show up, like superheroes – and they grow to rely on each other.

Turgon/ Finrod: Do you like the opposites attract trope? How about grumpy/ sunshine? What about "I've loved you all along, since before the darkening of the Two Trees, and now the light in my eyes shines only for you?" Do I have a ship for you.

Lúthien/ Thuringwethil: Listen. They're both slightly eldritch and not afraid to throw down. A match made in Valinor? Why NOT. Plus, Lúthien canonically uses Thuringwethil's cloak to sneak into Angband. What's that cloak made of? Girlfriend material.

Maglor/ Elemmírë: We don't know much about Maglor's spouse; why not assume they also shared a love for the arts? Elemmírë composed the poem lamenting the death of the Two Trees. Together, they could make beautiful music. *cue Careless Whisper*

Nienna/ Nerdanel: They are two women intimately acquainted with grief, but also with the beauty of life. In particular, Nienna knows that there is a fine line between sadness and joy. Perhaps she could help Nerdanel embrace both.

#silm #silmarillion #tolkien #Finarfin #Eonwe #Finarfin x Eonwe #Turgon #Finrod #Turgon x Finrod #Luthien #Thuringwethil #Luthien x Thuringwethil #Maglor #Elemmire #Maglor x Elemmire #Nienna #Nerdanel #Nienna x Nerdanel

35 notes · View notes

arofili · 11 months

Photo

thank you to the amazing @drxconicsart for this stunning commission of Turgon/Finrod during their ~night at the river~ !!! It’s just beautiful, I love their passion and the background is simply breathtaking 😍😍😍

To see the full (NSFW!!) image, check it out on ao3 here! It’s attached as chapter 3 of an old fic of mine about these two :)

Full Image (explicit!)

#turgon #finrod #turgoldo #finrod felagund #finrod x turgon #turgon x finrod #commission #for me #nsft #the night at the river #drxconicsart #drxconics

30 notes · View notes

carmisse · 2 months

Text

Fëanáro and his sons-(and daughter) in-law.

X : Rank your children's spouses or partners from one to ten.

Fëanor : ...

Fëanor : I've been waiting for this moment since Maitamo was in diapers!

Fëanor : Findekáno is an eight. He was the first one and I really came to see the fact that he and Maitamo would get married when they had the chance. He is quite nice though because of him I have to see Ñolofinwë's face on weekends at the family dinner. Other than that, it's stranger not to see him at home, I got used to having him there, he's good company.

Fëanor : the first time I met Makalaurë's wife she punched me in the jaw. She is sassy and not afraid to express her displeasure with anyone plus Dae is really very talented, she is also the only person who can manage to shut Káno up, she sings too well, a ten, she is my favorite.

Fëanor : Tyelko was always a free fëa, that's why I didn't expect him to settle down, not even with Irissë and even less with Oromë. That's why Dior was a strange surprise, I don't really know the history of those two and I haven't dealt much with him, he's usually serious, and I don't blame him for that. A seven.

Fëanor : Turukáno reminds me too much of Ñolofinwë; he openly hates me and I respect him for that; but he also makes Moryo smile more often than usual, his mood changes when he's around his husband. Besides they have been together for too long, they never told anyone but Aracáno and I suspected it. He is an eight.

Fëanor : I'm not sure if Findaráto counts, he and Curufinwë have been divorced for a long time, however they also kiss a closet when they think no one sees them. He and Curufin made me grandfather, although at the time there was yelling and a couple of broken things, he took responsibility, and like Findekáno his company is pleasant. He's a solid nine, plus Arafinwë is easier to stand than Ñolo.

Fëanor : Pityo has no husband, wife or partner; unless it's secret, I can't score this time.

Fëanor : Telvo on the other hand, well. He leaves Arakáno, the son, I mean. I must say that the two of them are really adorable, if somewhat disastrous, you don't want to know what an argument between them is. Frankly they are the healthiest relationship I've seen in a long time. Arakáno are a nine.

Plus : Telperinquar's husband.

Fëanor : Annatar is an annoying little shit, I am offended that you think I accept him, if it were not for Tyelpe I would throw him into the void with his ex-husband.

Notes :

Daeron is trans, she is an elleth. When he and Maglor met, the son of Fëanor fell in love with her, he proposed to her a few days after they met for the first time. A hundred years pass before she accepts him, they marry with only trees as a witness, they drifted apart after Doriath.

She was upset for a long time, with her husband and her brothers-in-law.

They meet in Imladris, Elrond is the one who brings them together (he locks them in a room until they talk) Maglor apologizes and she accepts them even though she knows it will take time to heal. Finally, they sail to Valinor accompanying Elladan and Elrohir. Regarding her name, he doesn't really mind Daeron. But her family in-laws call her Dae, Maglor nicknamed her that when he met her, this with her permission.

Amrod has no interest in anyone, he is very tired of everyone.

23 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 1 year

Note

This might sound similar to a headcanon of mine. How would the elves react to a former ranger reader who Sauron ensnared into his service? Reader is a talented swordsman and a fierce opponent, but despite being in Sauron’s control, they still hold on to honor and never fight unfairly. They kick the weapon back to their opponent and never harm defenseless people. They wander in the shadows but sometimes help missing children back to their homes when Sauron does not call upon them. They even still hold some love for animals and could be found humming songs and comforting wounded animals. How would the elves feel and who would most likely try to save reader from Sauron's control?

a/n: This is extremely similar to one of the OCs I have in making, but the honourable part of them comes after they were released and they're an assassin. Are you stalking me 👀? This should be easy for me to answer

When they learn about your background and the world of horror that became most of your life, they would be quick to offer you comfort. Knowing the pain and suffering you still experienced since you were under the call of Sauron would make them compassionate but cautious, not knowing when you can strike under his command. They would want to show you the beauty of the world and the comforts of having friends to ease your loneliness. Long hours till the break of dawn conversing about the world and building a great friendship. They are a great hope in their heart for you to break free and would even go as far as to aid you with your freedom. "You don't deserve this life and I want to help you break free from those chains. You're a good person deep down."

MAEDHROS, Maglor, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, FINGON, Finarfin, FINROD, GLORFINDEL, Galdor, ROG, ELROND, Elrohir, Elladan, BELEG

They also sympathise with you but find it harder to make friends with you given your subservient behaviour to Sauron even though you can't control it. Keeping their distance but still making small talk with you, there are times they would attempt to fish for information about Sauron. It would take a great deal of trust before they ever decide you and them can be friends or just close. Though, there is a small part of them that's impressed by your kind nature despite your actions when under Sauron. "I know what you do isn't by your will, but outside of that, you're a decent person."

CARANTHIR, TURGON, Gil Galad

#reactions #maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #celebrimbor x reader #fingolfin x reader #finrod x reader #glorfindel x reader #ecthelion x reader #galdor x reader #rog x reader #elrond x reader #elrohir x reader #elladan x reader #beleg x reader #finarfin x reader #turgon x reader #caranthir x reader #gil galad x reader #doodlepops responds

106 notes · View notes

annoyinglandmagazine · 1 year

Text

The Great Finwean House party

‘Nolofinwe’s on the way home!!! The dinner at grandads just finished the lights are off at the banquet hall!’ Aegnor’s yell over the noise in the house made Turgon freeze from where he was fetching another bottle of wine. ‘Oh fuck,’ and they set into motion trying to sort out this situation before they all got disowned. The first thing to catch his attention was the presence of several wild animals including a fucking stag so Turgon went looking for Tyelko and his darling little sister. They were trying to wrestle a moose, because of course they were and Tyelko was wearing disturbingly little clothing, though that may be down to the game of strip poker he recalls Glorfindel initiating earlier. It could also be down to the fact that Tyelko is always naked by the end of these things whether there’s an explanation or not. This may take a while. Aegnor also decided to go looking for his sister first, he had been thinking about getting Finrod, but decided he’d prefer not to be scarred for life. Artanis seemed to be in the process of fighting Argon and Curufin at once, seemingly over a game of cards. She was winning. He tried to pull her back but was met with a knee in certain reproductive organs. It was kind of on him, Artanis was always an aggressive drunk and he was fairly certain everyone had had a minimum of three bottles by now.

He decided to take a tactical retreat, and went to find Nelyo instead. He was the responsible one, he’d be able to take charge. Anyway he was the only one with any sort of success record in dealing with the rest of the Feanorians. He should have been expecting it. Rule number 1 of Finwean house parties (aside from the obvious don’t tell anyones parents rules) was that you should leave Maedhros alone during the course of the event. And preferably until the next morning just in case. This was the only rule the Feanorians all followed at all times and for good reason. He walked into the room he’d seen Nelyo disappear into just after ‘knife throwing for heavy drinkers’ and immediately wanted to bleach his eyes out. Findekano and Maedhros both seemed pretty preoccupied and didn’t even seem to see him come him. He decided to just yell ‘Nolofinwe’s coming’ from the hallway. It had the desired effect and they came scrambling out moments later trying to drunkenly find all the clasps on their clothing. Maedhros went bright red when he saw Aegnor in the doorway and opened his mouth to explain but Aegnor cut him off, simply saying ‘just lock the damn door next time.’ The venture turned out not to have been a complete disaster because Maedhros did end up taking charge. He seemed to flip a switch and when he raised his voice the entire house stopped what they were doing. ‘Ok everyone you know the drill! Nolofinwe’s getting back here soon and if any of our parents find out even a fraction of what we were doing tonight they will never trust any of us alone again!’ he was impressively authoritative for someone who had very obviously just been getting a blowjob less than five minutes ago.‘Tyelko, Irisse, I swear to the Valar if you haven’t got all the animals out of the house in ten minutes….,’ Tyelko groaned ‘on it, on it.’ ‘Good, Artanis, let go of Curvo and help him wipe the blood off the table,’ Artanis gave him a glare and for a second Aegnor thought she might refuse, she was the only one that would ever dream of disobeying the eldest, but eventually she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth her while. ‘Moryo, put down the knife, I know Angrod’s a brat but there’s enough blood from the drinking games already, help me out here,’ Caranthir relented with one last threat to his cousin before moving to help clean up.

‘Maglor, please stop singing, they’ll be able to tell you’re here from a mile away, and Finrod!’ he yelled up the stairs now, ‘put your clothes back on!’ ‘How do you know what I’m doing?’ was the reply. ‘Well are you or the approximately two people in the room with you wearing clothes? No? Thought not. Get sorted the fuck out. Same goes for you Glorfindel! And Ecthelion I guess.’ and then with a look of horror Maedhros looked around frantically ‘No one invited the Ambarussa right?’ ‘No, of course not, we must preserve the innocents, what you think we’re fucking mental,’ was the general consensus. Maedhros breathed a sigh of relief ‘Alright everyone let’s get to work!’

With that they all scampered about, defying all logic and cleaning faster than they would have were they even remotely sober. These things were a base instinct at this point though, and there was no trace of any of it in half an hour. ‘Scatter!’ was the final yell from Tyelko, and they seemed to melt into the walls slipping out windows and back doors with one final word of ‘same time next month?’

83 notes · View notes

swanhild · 8 months

Text

Laurëndil

Last minute entry for @silmsmutweek To go with the prompts threesomes and moresomes, humor/crack, rare pairs, canon ships, established relationships, voyeurism and tender sex. (Also an early entry for @nolofinweanweek because this one is all about Turgon, really. And I might be stranded without access to the Internet for a for a couple of days in November, so.)

Summary: Turgon spends a bit of quality time with two of his favourite people and tries something new. (A story about Turgon's life in Valinor post-reembodiment. That ends in a threesome.)

Characters: Turgon, Finrod, Elenwë Relationships: Finrod/Turgon, Turgon/Elenwë, Finrod/Turgon/Elenwë Words: 7k Rating: Explicit Genre: Smut, Humor, Angst (only at the beginning)

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

Turgon groaned in embarrassment and covered his face with one arm. “Having both of you involved in this was a mistake,” he grumbled and Finrod could see that the was blushing even harder than before. Finrod patted his hip. “Don't lie, Turno. You love having both of us in your bed at the same time.” "It's your bed, not mine," Turgon muttered, but didn't argue the point otherwise.

#silmsmutweek #silmarillion fic #turgon #finrod #turgoldo #finrod x turgon #elenwe #turgon x elenwe #finrod x turgon x elenwe #fotfics #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien fic #finrod/turgon #turgon/finrod #my writing

25 notes · View notes

last-capy-hupping · 9 months

Text

So, this is my first year participating in TRSB, and it’s been an amazing experience working with my artist Torpi, who inspired me to go outside of my comfort zones and explore some rare pairings, including a main pair so rare that I had to make a new tag for them.

Her lovely art is featured in the first chapter of this fic:

You’ll be able to read the accompanying fic (all 22k+) in under twelve hours following the link below.

Summary to tempt you all:

During the Year of the Trees 1359, Aikanáro, third son of Arafinwë, third son of Finwë, High King of the Ñoldor, and Ëarwen, daughter of Olwë, High King of the Teleri in Aman, prepares to welcome his father’s half brother, Fëanáro, his pregnant wife who is craving sea air and seafood, and their four sons. His only goal is to prevent his eldest brother Ingoldo from embarrassing himself trying to impress their eldest Fëanárion cousin. He soon find that Nelyafinwë is not the Fëanárion about whom he should worry most.

Meanwhile, Tyelkormo is simply excited to explore new territory, learn about new wildlife, and find fresh ways to hunt. Alas for him, he almost immediately starts a minor family feud on his first night in Alqualondë. And that’s just the start of his problems.

For TRSB Slide #5.

21 notes · View notes

aeonianarchives · 1 year

Note

The reader was singing for the humans, at night, alone. Then finrod wakes up from his sleep because he hears a beautiful singing voice, he follows the voice and sees a beautiful elven woman singing to the round-eared people, and falls in love with her! What a surprise lol- He cannot help himself and goes to near her and sings the song with her.

For more details if you want: she is glorfindel's daughter and she already know him since their days in valinor, because cmon he was the prince of House Finarfin. But finrod doesn't know her. Anyway this is an extra detail and you don't have to use it

Mockingbird

Summery: Request

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

A/n: I am sorry I took so long, and that i lost it the first time you requested luckly you weren't an anon so i could ask for it again

A mystical voice floated through the woods around them, finrod sturs to the voice and sits up, his guard still awake on look out didn't notice him, Finrod stood, taking his cloak which hung on his sword, he wrapped it around himself and followed the voice through the trees his head was still groggy from sleep.

he pushed open the tent door he stayed silent as he was not noticed, the sword still strapped to your back reminded him of a Lord back in Gondolin which served his brother so did everything about you, it was as if you were the female version of glorfindel, in short you basically were you were his daughter after all.

Finrod was aware of the song you sung his cousin had made it and sung it back in Valinor, he did not know were you had learnt it however, you had learnt it from your previous king, who also happened to be Finrod's cousin Turgon.

Finrod watched you for a while before deciding to join you, he harmonized with you easily his voice complemented yours perfectly as a bass line to yours, the golden haired king came and knelled next to you, he took one of the small round eared children into his lap the others were sat about both of you, the two had soon put the children traveling in their company to sleep.

"Thank you King Finrod, and My lady" The man said as you both left.

"I do not believe we have met before lady" Finrod paused so you could finish his sentance

"Y/n of the house of the golden flower Aran-nin" You returned Finrod's brow raised

"Glorfindel's Sister?" Finrod questioned

"Daughter actually" you returned to him as you followed him on his walk around the forest

"You come with Nargothrond's party and yet you are from Gondolin" Finrod said

"I am Aran Turgon's Advisor to his trade with your Kingdom, it is quite odd we have not run into each other before" You said Finrod nodded, you have to admit the king with attractive in person, his hair felt like it was plucked from golden strands of fire, and his eyes a wild and untamed ocean

"I have people who do their jobs well so their is no need for you to come to me with anything" Finrod said 'although it is a shame you don't come to me i wish i had known you sooner'

"It seems so" You responded you paused in your tracks and turned to the king

"I know you have only just met me formally, but i have seen you around, forgive me" you said stepping towards him and moving a lose strand of hair out of his face Finrod stood there is slight shock a light blush covered his cheeks he truly had fallen hard.

Elvish Translations:

Aran - king

42 notes · View notes

polutrope · 1 year

Note

Have you done Turgon/Elenwe/Finrod and or Idril/Tuor/Voronwe yet? My favourite polyships 🥺

I have not done ANY polyships, let's goooo!

Turgon/Elenwe/Finrod

Amazing. I think the dynamics for this would be especially interesting. I can't not imagine Amarië as part of it in Aman, so with the OT3 it's angsty comfort times on the Helcaraxë. Turgon and Finrod more QPR, but occasionally they will bang just the two of them (and continue to after Elenwë dies 😢). Elenwë and Turgon very much in love, soulmates, but the sex is elevated by the presence of Finrod (obviously). Elenwë and Finrod have gone at it just the two of them a few times, but even with their undeniable sex appeal there's a je-ne-sais-quoi that Turgon brings that they just can't find without him. They are both more magnetically attracted to him than to each other, so that's part of it. Turgon doesn't know how sexy he is and that gets them going.

All three of them have some excellent, intellectually stimulating conversation, as well. All very emotionally open and supportive.

Idril/Tuor/Voronwe

THIS is the Gondolin OT3 that I will sail into the sunset. Which literally happens (in that one note in HoMe but that's good enough for me). Even the least tinted shipping goggles will reveal the Tuor/Voronwe vibes in Of Tuor. "And there was only one cloak." They definitely developed a thing on the route to Gondolin, to the surprise and delight and comfort of them both. Idril and Voronwe were friends before, and when he comes back there's a mutual shift in their feelings towards each other, and Idril is also like, "wow, hot guy you brought back." So hey presto, no brainer. Then she falls in love with him, hard and fast and facilitated by Fate. Voronwë was definitely an amazing bonus dad to Earendil.

#asks #elenwe x finrod x turgon #idril x tuor x voronwe

7 notes · View notes

silmsmutweek · 8 months

Note

For Day 5, I updated my badwrong non-con fic.

Summary: Maedhros is corrupted in Angband. As a consequence, Fingon and by extension his siblings and Arafinwion cousins are having the worst time of their lives.

Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Morgoth, Turgon, Finrod, Aegnor, Angrod, Aredhel.

Pairings: Fingon/Maedhros (main), Fingon/Turgon, Morgoth/Turgon, Fingon/Finrod, Aegnor/Angrod/Finrod (secondary)

Warnings: Non-con, forced incest, humiliation, abuse (more in the tags)

Word count: 10674

Link to the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/silmkinkmeme/works/45986536

Thanks, Anon!

#fic #day 5: unlight #fingon x maedhros #fingon x turgon #morgoth x turgon #fingon x finrod #aegnor x angrod x fingon #maedhros #fingon #morgoth #turgon #finrod #aegnor #angrod #aredhel #cw noncon #cw sibling incest #anonymous

2 notes · View notes

arofili · 2 years

Note

turgon/finrod + 34! :)

“It’ll never be enough,” Findaráto said quietly.

Turukáno flinched, but did not try to deny it. “I wish…” But there was no end to that sentence, no resolution to the ache in both their souls.

“I’m not—her.” Findaráto didn’t dare speak Elenwë’s name. “I can’t be. And—and even if you want me, you’ll always need her.”

“Is it not better to have something than to have nothing at all?” Turukáno lamented. “Surely—surely we could try.”

“What is this, if not trying?” Findaráto gestured helplessly to the twisted, dirty sheets around them. “But you couldn’t—I know you miss her, Turno. And I can’t lie with you and pretend to be her. I can’t—I won’t do that to myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Turukáno whispered. “I wish—I wish…”

I wish she were here, he did not say. I wish she could tell me it was all right to love you, too. I wish I could have you both.

But she was gone. And with her gone, he saw her everywhere.

It would never be enough.

#silm #silmarillion #silm fic #turgon #finrod #finrod x turgon #turgon x finrod #turgoldo #my writing #my fic #tefain nin #prompts #himrings #love and politics

42 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 16 days

Text

MAY-U - Turgon x Finrod

This is one for MoonLord. And I've been asked to write children...let's see how that goes LOL

Turgon seems to be the winner of May as he got 2 stories! LOL

Characters: Turgon x Finrod

Prompts: Raising a child - Doctor/Nurse - I miss moments like this

Words: 2 100

Warnings: Child crying, sickness, injury, poisoning, hospital setting, disappointed love, pining

As soon as Finrod got the page, his blood ran cold as if a devastating premonition had come over him.

Hastening from the breakroom to the treatment area, he tried to control his breathing—it would not do to add to the stress of already panicked parents by being anything other than perfectly composed.

“What do we have?” he asked immediately upon crossing the threshold of the painfully bare hospital room, his hand outstretched to retrieve a tablet containing the intake summary.

“Finrod?”

His head snapped up—he’d not heard that voice in years, and yet he recognised the full, warm baritone, tense with fear, at once.

“Turno? What happened?”

“It’s my nephew; ‘Rissë’s kid. He snuck out, and we suspect that some evil creature must have given him something…I don’t know…”

Finrod’s head was spinning; the last news he’d gotten about his old friend had been that his wife had died in an unfortunate skiing accident. He’d waited for Turgon to call, and—when his phone never rang—he’d switched from general surgery to paediatrics on a whim.

A part of him had been painfully, jealously aware of the deplorable fact that Turgon would be a single parent, and he secretly yearned to be useful at the very least if he couldn’t be wanted by the one he’d adored since his early adolescence.

If one discounted that one sloppy kiss after too much stolen brandy, nothing had ever happened between them, and Finrod had never doubted that Turgon—dutiful and traditional to a fault—would end up marrying a girl his parents welcomed and cherished. He’d always been a stickler for the rules like that!

In a haze of agonising memories and embarrassing tenderness, Finrod ordered a bleary-eyed intern to run a whole battery of tests on the pale boy who lay, motionless and frail, on the bright blue covers of the hospital bed.

“I didn’t know…How is your sister?”

“Dead,” Turgon replied in a hollow voice. “That scumbag who impregnated her—it doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.”

“Please,” a tiny voice interrupted. “He’s so very sick. Can you make him all better?”

A girl, barely older than the patient, tugged on Finrod’s lab coat in her desperate bid to be heard.

“Is she…” Finrod asked, suppressing a shiver as he surveyed the intern sticking tubes and needles into the spindly arm of the stricken boy.

“She’s mine. Ours. Mine now. They’re both mine!” Turgon stammered in a choked voice. “I’m all they have left. They’re all I have left…and I don’t know how to help them!”

There it was, Finrod thought selfishly, the moment he’d been awaiting for so many countless years. At last, he could prove that Turgon had been wrong in shutting him out—no matter his own misgivings and gnawing disappointment, he could and would be an invaluable friend in times of need.

“Leave it to me,” he whispered before squatting down to be at eye level with the golden-haired girlchild who was still staring at him with that profound, uncanny wisdom only given to young children. “Do you maybe want to go play or…an ice cream? The cafeteria has quite an impressive assortment.”

Frowning at him as if he was daft, she shook her pretty head. “It’s late, and I’ve already had my dinner. My tummy would get upset, and…I can’t be sick now. He is sick!”

Her tiny, pudgy finger pointed at the boy with the unwavering determination of fate itself.

“Help him!”

Tears of all-consuming fear, fatigue, and frustration glistened in her ocean-blue eyes.

“In a moment, princess,” he murmured reassuringly. “We’ll have to find out what’s wrong first.”

At that moment, his fellow physician stepped into the room noiselessly, motioning to Finrod behind Turgon’s back to meet him outside.

“I’ll be right back, darling,” the paediatrician promised the little one, and—with a meaningful glance at his former friend—he left the room.

“Do you know this man? Are you too close to this? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

He wanted to deny that accusation, but the very words of overcompensating fury died on his tongue in the face of the gentle understanding and sympathy of his favourite colleague.

“We were friends a long time ago,” he confessed instead, averting his gaze.

“Just friends?”

“The man came in with not one, but two children,” Finrod sputtered, throwing his hands in the air helplessly. “Of course, we were just friends.”

“That means nothing,” his colleague quipped, laying a comforting hand on his tense arm. “He came in alone with two kids. I’ve yet to see a woman, or a man for that matter.”

“His wife died,” Finrod informed his co-worker dryly. “His sister died. And his nephew’s initial exams are not encouraging.”

“Take them down to the cafeteria. I’ll page you as soon as the analyses are in! Go!”

Nodding tersely, Finrod returned to the room—he’d imagined seeing Turgon again a million times, his fantasies ranging from passionate fights to deep-felt confessions of affection, but he’d never expected their reunion to feel this terrifying.

In his capacity, he saw too many gruesome fates to sleep easily, but the sight of the dark-haired, pallid boy broke his heart in a myriad of ways he’d never known before.

He remembered Turgon’s indomitably vivacious sister fondly, and he couldn’t quite comprehend yet that he’d indeed never meet her again to lovingly mock the overly stern beauty, who was now wringing his hands in unspeakable despair, with that easy complicity she’d always inspired in people.

“Let’s clear the room,” Finrod said softly. “I’ll keep tabs on the results, but you should get a coffee or something.”

“I can’t leave him—he…”

“He’s fast asleep,” Finrod interrupted, nodding ever so lightly at the curled-up form of Turgon’s daughter in a corner. “She doesn’t have to see this,” he mouthed.

The consideration Finrod showed the girl seemed to sway Turgon at last, who went over to scoop her into his strong arms. She blinked rapidly, willing herself back into the present in an act of self-control that left Finrod baffled and deeply impressed. “Let’s see if they have a hot chocolate downstairs.”

“Will the doctor also come?” she asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“This is my friend Finrod,” Turgon introduced in a soothing voice. “He can, of course, come with us if he wants to. Are you free?”

“My shift ended half an hour ago,” Finrod smiled. “I’m off-duty, theoretically. Don’t worry, I won’t desert you!”

He couldn’t help his voice’s sharp undertone; despite the dire circumstances, his sore heart would not be dissuaded from making itself heard.

“Thank you,” Turgon replied with humble simplicity.

“I’m Idril,” the girl piped up, holding out a tiny hand for Finrod to shake solemnly. “Very nice to meet you, Mister Finrod.”

Clenching his jaw, Finrod thought that many another person might have found her adorable, but he couldn’t oversee the deep trauma and depthless sadness that had turned this little girl into a tiny adult—polite, charming, and caring—beyond what her age promised.

She was supposed to gobble up ice cream and demand to be heeded by her father, not hold back her tears and suppress her weariness.

“Hello Idril,” he replied, leaning closer to the child’s golden head. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

“Are you a good doctor? Do you have kids?” she asked, seemingly emboldened by her father’s admission of familiarity and trust.

“I’m excellent,” Finrod answered truthfully with a wink. “And no, unfortunately, I don’t. Maybe, that’s why I take care of other people’s children.”

“It’s hard work,” she scoffed and patted her father’s shoulder in a gesture reminiscent of a mother’s indulgent empathy and pride rather than the puerile affection that Finrod had come to expect from girls her age. “Daddy is doing his best, but my cousin keeps running away.”

There was scorn in her voice now—she’d also lost her mother, but unlike her unruly relative, she’d turned her fear and pain inward rather than unleashing it onto the world in acts of impuissant rebelliousness.

“Can you help my father too? You like children, right?”

Taken aback, Finrod almost missed a step and had to grip the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs.

If only Turgon had made the same offer, Finrod would have agreed at once, casting aside both pride and residual resentment to finally get a taste of the bliss he knew they could share.

Unfortunately, Turgon, true to himself, did no such thing. Instead, he gave his daughter a stern glance and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

He furthermore refused to eat anything, only accepting a cup of coffee after much coaxing, and buried his head in his long-fingered hands in silent despair as soon as they’d sat down by the scratched table, reeking of disinfectant.

“We’re doing our best,” Finrod promised. “He’s in good hands!”

To his surprise, Turgon pried one hand off his weary, pale face and extended it to him in a wordless plea for more substantial reassurance.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he whispered after having ascertained that Idril was sufficiently distracted by her frozen treat. “I must have dialled your number a thousand times, but what was I to say? I…I didn’t want to force you into accepting the burdens of my life—grief, loss, despair, and two young children—just because we were childhood friends.”

Scoffing, Finrod leaned back without letting go of Turgon’s hand, effectively pulling the other back into an upright sitting position.

“You’ve always been such a stuffy fool,” he grunted. “I would have been honoured and delighted to share the load.”

“I’ve married someone else,” Turgon hissed accusingly.

Finrod was not sure whether he was struggling with his own suppressed, misplaced sense of guilt or if he wanted to get a rise out of him, but he was too tired and heartsick by far to be goaded into a senseless fight.

“And I don’t hold that against you. You had plans and dreams, and I’ve never wanted anything other for you than to achieve them.”

At that, Turgon’s head snapped up, his eyes feverish and his mouth agape. “Really?”

“Of course! I won’t deny that I might have eaten half a tub of ice cream and watched a few soppy movies, but…” He nodded at Idril who was valiantly but vainly battling the instinct to crawl onto her father’s lap and close her eyes. “She’s perfect.”

“She is,” Turgon agreed. “She’s suffered so much. I…I hate that I can’t keep them safe—what good am I if I can’t even do that?”

“She is safe,” Finrod murmured soothingly, tightening his hold on Turgon’s cold, clammy fingers. “And we’ll do whatever we can for your nephew. Trust me as you once did!”

He looked over at Idril again before checking his phone.

“My colleague has started a treatment,” he informed his friend in the carefully detached voice of a professional. “I live just down the street. Why don’t you take the girl over, put her to bed, and I’ll be with you in a moment? I’ll go check on him now, but until the morning, none of us will be any the wiser. You must sleep! He’ll need you when he wakes up.”

Finrod could see that Turgon wanted to protest by the way his dull gaze flared into life, but then, he settled down almost instantly.

He stood and lifted his sleeping daughter into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I do trust you.” He gave a bone-weary sigh. “I miss moments like this,” he admitted shamefacedly. “It feels so good not to be alone with an earth-shattering catastrophe for once.”

Pushing himself up on his tiptoes, Finrod pressed a tender kiss onto the waxy cheek of the one he’d always loved a little more than he should have. “Leave it to me—I’ll be home shortly!”

They walked towards the exit side-by-side, revelling in the echoes of a friendship they’d erroneously believed to be dead and buried.

“Hey,” Turgon called softly, shifting Idril to his other hip. “How come you’ve gone into peds?”

“You know me,” Finrod replied with a shrug. “You had a kid, and I wanted to be ready, just in case you’d ever waltz back into my life.”

His face fell. “Now, I wish I’d never even thought of so cruel a scenario. I…am sorry. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Me neither,” Turgon sighed. “But I’m glad you’re here. See you soon?”

“Very soon,” Finrod promised. “With good news, I hope.”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last (?) one for May!

Lots of love from me!

2 notes · View notes