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thelordofgifs · 11 months

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the fairest stars: post iv

Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils, more sons of Fëanor than anyone ever needed or wanted get involved, things go extremely sideways: you know the drill. You can find the first 18 parts of this bullet point fic on AO3 here, and parts 16-20 on tumblr here.

We're starting out part 21 with a timeskip!

One year after the fall of Himring, north Beleriand remains bitterly contested.

The East is overrun. In Barad Eithel's great war-room the map of Estolad is covered in black arrows stretching from Lothlann down to the Andram Wall.

Caranthir and Amras maintain a last stronghold on Amon Ereb, with the people of Himring who fled there after its fall; but Ossiriand, they fear, will only remain undefiled so long as Morgoth's attention does not turn towards it.

Their Eastern allies, too, are unimpressed. Bór and his young sons were all slain not long after Himring burned; the few of their people who escaped the orc-raids have joined themselves to Ulfang in Thargelion, but they are none too friendly to the Fëanorians these days.

"And Nelyo says I'm bad at making allies," Caranthir remarks.

[yeah he's in this now. damn it why will they not stay in their place.]

"I wouldn't say this is Nelyo's fault," Amras says quietly.

It is a debate held, in one form or the other, in every free kingdom in Beleriand.

But anyway, the East does not seem to be Morgoth's main concern for now.

It is Hithlum, Fingon is sure, where the next assault will come.

Hithlum, the realm of the High King of the Noldor; Hithlum, where he reigns who once humilated Morgoth so thoroughly; Hithlum, where Maedhros holds a Silmaril yet.

If the last true stronghold of the Noldor falls—

And he is facing plenty of internal pressure, too.

His lords – many of them survivors of the Grinding Ice, and arch-loyal followers of the House of Fingolfin – are less than impressed by the rumours that have reached them of the fall of Himring, and Maedhros' actions there.

Fingon has tried to quell the whispers as best as he can. But it is impossible to deny the fact that the attack took Himring by surprise because its patrols were cancelled on Maedhros' orders, or that Maedhros left the field as their position worsened.

The healers who treated Maglor's stab wound have not been quiet, either, about the fact that it was an elvish blade that caused the injury.

And some of those who were at Himring have heard that Maglor was found in a pool of his own blood with Maedhros, subdued too late, unconscious beside him—

If only they knew, Fingon thinks furiously, they would not cast sly aspersions on his judgement and his taste in friends. They would not stop talking of anything consequential when Maedhros drew near, as if he is not to be trusted with the secrets of the war.

Of course when he dares to suggest to Maedhros that this might bother him, Maedhros laughs and says, "Finno, do you think this the worst humiliation I have ever endured?"

So. There's not much Fingon can say to that.

His father was a diplomat, a politician, a builder of alliances. Fingon is not doing a very good job of living up to that legacy.

Thingol returned no response to the letter Fingon sent him, informing him of Curufin's disappearance.

In fact, Thingol is kind of just Done.

So the Noldor turned out to be faithless. What else is new?

Also he didn't really want Curufin's head anyway. Where would he even put it?

Fingon cannot give him what he truly wishes for: his daughter.

In Lúthien's absence old age has fallen upon him, who has lived unwithered for long Ages of the Stars since his birth at distant Cuiviénen.

Melian sings no longer. The people of Doriath, who have known little but peace and splendour since the Girdle was first raised, begin to wonder if their blessings have been withdrawn.

So it is a Menegroth much changed into which Beren and Lúthien walk, hand in hand, one afternoon.

Their return is met with both joy and some consternation. Youth comes back to Thingol at the touch of his daughter's hand; but Melian knows that she will never smile again.

Lúthien bears it all, the feasts of celebration at which none can look her in the eye, her father's overwhelming gladness and her mother's sorrow, the halls that ring yet with the memory of her grief, for exactly two weeks; then she announces that she and Beren are leaving.

"Daughter," Thingol protests, "you have only just returned to us – and soon—"

(Thingol does not know how he will ever handle the parting that is to come.)

"Will you not stay?" he asks. "This is your home."

Lúthien is not sure she knows what home means any more.

"I am sorry," she says, regretful but firm.

The next day finds her and Beren walking through Brethil, debating their next course of action – just as they did not so very long ago, when Celegorm and Curufin attacked them in the woods.

It is of that little skirmish that Beren is thinking now.

"They say Curufin is still out there somewhere," he argues. "It mightn't be safe—"

"I sang Morgoth himself to sleep," Lúthien cries, "and you think I can't take Curufin Fëanorion?"

"Tinúviel," Beren says, with a laugh, "I do not think there is anyone you can't take."

Lúthien allows herself to be placated.

"I am not suggesting we dwell alone in the wilderness," she says; "you made your earlier thoughts on that very clear. But I – I cannot go back to being Doriath's Princess, Beren, as if every part of me is not changed irretrievably since first you called my name, as if – as if you didn't die there, and—"

"Sweetheart," says Beren, kissing her forehead. "It wasn't permanent." And when she chokes out a little laugh through her tears, he goes on, "I know you do not wish to stay in Doriath. But we must choose somewhere – and somewhere safe. It seems as though the Enemy's reach has lengthened in the time we were, um, gone."

"I thought to go to Ossiriand," Lúthien says. "My kin the Green-elves still guard those lands."

"But only those lands," says Beren. "Estolad and Thargelion are overrun. The sons of Fëanor keep no watch upon the Eastmarch. If Morgoth were to learn that you dwelled there—"

"I'm not afraid," Lúthien says. "And even if I were – am I never to venture beyond the Girdle again, for fear of him? Is all my father's kingdom to be naught to me but a prison, as Hírilorn was? I cannot stand it – I will not."

Beren takes both her hands in his one and looks at her. "Tinúviel," he says, very seriously, "I will never cage you."

Oh, he knows her. What a wondrous, terrifying thing, to be understood so completely.

Perhaps Lúthien is still a little delirious with the rush of living once more, for she dips her head to capture Beren's mouth in a delighted kiss, and for a time they both forget all other matters.

Plucking strands of grass from her hair some time later, Beren says, "I have another idea."

"What! I thought I argued my case quite passionately," Lúthien teases.

"You said you thought of dwelling among your kin," says Beren. "What of going to mine, instead?" And, when Lúthien shoots him a puzzled look, "The House of Bëor is mostly ruined, but there are still remnants of my people who escaped Dorthonion ere its fall. Some of them dwell nearby, with the Haladin. And others went north to Dor-lómin – my little cousin Morwen is the lady of that land now."

"I do not wish to stay in Brethil," says Lúthien; "it is rather too close to Menegroth for my tastes. But the Land of Echoes, on the other hand..."

Her eyes are alight with that same fanciful gleam they used to get when Beren told her stories of the world outside the Girdle, of holy Tarn Aeluin and the dread Ered Gorgoroth alike.

You would think, Beren muses, that she would have had enough of adventure by now.

"I have," says Lúthien, catching his thought. "We are to live a very peaceful and retiring life. I insist on it! That is what I told Mandos we deserved. None shall dare assail us, in Dor-lómin." She rolls the name on her tongue as if trying to taste it.

"They call it so because of the terrible cry of Morgoth when Ungoliant assailed him," Beren tells her, "not for any sweeter music."

Lúthien laughs and flings her arms around him. Oh, his living body warm and solid against hers! It is a gift she does not intend to waste.

"Luckily," she says, "I am good at changing the melody."

Another conversation between lovers:

"Do you think it could be done?"

“I have already told you what I think.”

"But you haven't explained," Fingon persists, "you have only looked at me dolefully and proclaimed that it is not possible."

"Well, it is not," says Maedhros. He is lying curled in Fingon's arms, their ankles hooked together, and he is loath to disturb their contentment with arguing. Keeping his voice measured, he says, "If our strength were doubled I do not think it would be enough, Finno."

"The attack will come either way," Fingon says, also without much vigour. They have had this debate so many times now that it is become well-worn. "Why not meet it head on?"

"Because you have a defensible position here," Maedhros says patiently, "and a greater chance of holding than you do of storming the gates of Angband."

"My father did it," Fingon mutters.

"Your father died," Maedhros says, voice suddenly sharp.

Fingon looks at him. "Don't look so worried, beloved! I am quite turned off the idea of wasteful heroics these days."

"Then look to strengthening your defences," Maedhros says, "and drop this fool notion."

"But if we did try," says Fingon, "if we united all the Free Peoples under one banner, and marched on Angband together – think what we could achieve!"

His eyes are bright with hope. Maedhros hates to crush it, but crush it he must.

"Finno," he says, "the East is lost. My brothers do not have so strong a position in Amon Ereb that they can afford to march north to join in a war that could prove ruinous. Bór and his people are dead almost to a man. Belegost will no doubt have heard the rumours—"

Fingon glances at him sharply, but he speaks without bitterness. Which is concerning in itself, but Fingon decides to let it slide for now.

"—and there is little help to be expected from other corners," Maedhros continues. "Doriath has strength to spare, but Thingol hates you."

Fingon shifts uncomfortably. He never actually told Maedhros why Thingol hates him now.

"Nargothrond," he says, to change the subject. "Orodreth will answer to his High King."

"Orodreth!" says Maedhros, dismissively. “A king too ruled by the whims of his people. If he had any spine he would have turned my brothers out of Nargothrond immediately, and Finrod might have lived.”

If Fingon were crueller he might say, You didn't manage to control your brothers that well yourself. Instead he says, "But the people of Nargothrond are many and valiant. We should not discount them."

"If Nargothrond wishes to stay out of the wars of the north," says Maedhros, "I think it would be prudent to allow them to do so." There is a thoughtful, uneasy look in his grey eyes.

Fingon gauges it correctly and says, "Are you worried for your nephew?"

Maedhros looks at him unhappily. "Everyone in Beleriand knows what a mess – Curvo – made of – everything," he says.

(A year might have passed, but Maedhros still does not much like to speak of Curufin.)

"Tyelpë is safe in Nargothrond, where his father's deeds cannot taint him," Maedhros says. "I would keep him so." Then he shrugs. "But my opinion carries no weight now, beloved. Do as you will, and I will support you, for all that is worth."

"It carries weight with me," Fingon says fiercely. "And I am not ashamed to say so. But you have not yet heard the key element in my plan."

Maedhros smiles despite himself, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can keep his eyes focused on Fingon's face. The mass of his silken hair is pooled on Fingon's bare chest. "Go on, then," he says, indulgent.

"Gondolin," Fingon says triumphantly. "My brother took a third of our host with him when he disappeared, and yet more of the Sindar went with him. They have lived in peace for more than three hundred years; their numbers must be great."

Maedhros does not seem as delighted with this idea as Fingon is. "Finno, you don't know where Gondolin is."

"The Eagles bring them tidings, clearly," Fingon points out; "else they would have opened the leaguer and come to our aid when they saw the fires of the Dagor Bragollach on the horizon."

Maedhros frowns, attempting to parse this extremely backwards logic. Eventually, he says, "If Hithlum falls, Gondolin will be the last stronghold of the Noldor in the north. I do not know if its position should be risked."

"All war is risk, beloved," says Fingon, "and if I were to call upon my brother, Hithlum will not fall."

Maedhros says, as if he has been saving this blow for last, "Finno, if you call upon Turgon, will he even answer?"

It has been more than three hundred years, since Fingon last saw his brother.

“Do you think he won’t?” he asks, more sharply than he means to.

(Turgon didn’t tell him he was going. He didn’t tell anyone. He just – vanished.)

Sometimes Maedhros thinks things were easier during Maglor’s long convalescence, when his only concern was his brother, when every sleepless night was because Maglor needed someone to sit up with him and every meal was whatever invalid's food Maglor could be persuaded to choke down – when Fingon was his strength and steadiness, and Maedhros could yet wrap his blue cloak around him like armour.

Selfish – selfish. Maglor is better now, and Maedhros is so, so glad; and Fingon cannot always be his strength. Sometimes Maedhros must be his.

"I am sure he will," he says, contrite. He presses a kiss to Fingon's tense jawline. "I just don't think it wise to ask him."

Fingon sighs and puts his arms around Maedhros. "Fine," he concedes. "Perhaps you are right."

But later, when they have extricated themselves from their warm tangle of limbs and risen for the day, he sits down to write a letter.

A few days later the High King's messenger, having ridden swiftly along the Ered Wethrin and into Dor-lómin, nearly collides with a small child playing near the road.

"Be careful!" cries Lúthien, dropping Beren's hand and rushing forward to snatch the child up.

The messenger gapes at her, for it seems to him as though she has materialised out of the shadows themselves. Then, when he gets better look at her beauty, he gapes even more.

Lúthien is not paying attention. All her focus is on the little golden-haired creature in her arms. "That was nearly very dangerous for you, wasn't it, sweetheart?" she coos. "But you don't seem frightened at all. What's your name, dear one?"

The little girl giggles and hides her face in Lúthien's sleeve without answering.

Beren feels a little dizzy, looking at the picture that they make, and at the bright tender look on his wife's face. Someday, he tells himself, someday.

He looks around. The messenger has dismounted; it seems the great house up ahead is his destination. A house of lords, clearly, surrounded by gardens as lovely as any in the chilly northlands, and with a bubbling stream running just past its walls.

Well, here they are.

He is pondering what the etiquette is here – should they knock? wait here until someone spots them? – when he catches sight of a second child, a little older, dark-haired, watching them intently from around a tree-trunk.

"Good day, lad," Beren says gravely. "Might I ask your name, and those of your parents?"

The boy regards him with suspicion for a while, before he finally says, "I am Túrin son of Húrin, and that is my sister Lalaith."

(One little-appreciated consequence of the fall of Himring: for the last year, Morgoth's attention has been on the final desecration of the March of Maedhros. He did not have time to send the Evil Breath to Dor-lómin.)

"Lalaith!" Lúthien says, delighted. "What a fitting name."

"Then, son of Húrin," says Beren, "we have reached our destination indeed. Might you do me the honour of introducing us to your parents?"

Túrin looks unimpressed. "Who are you?" he asks.

"My name is Beren son of Barahir," says Beren, "and we are kinsmen, son of Morwen."

Túrin frowns even more. "How do you know my mother's name?" he demands. "And Beren is dead."

Kind of hard to argue with that.

Before Beren can come up with a suitable response there is a small noise from the direction of the house: the children's mother has come out to call them in for the evening meal. She stands so still she might be made of stone, were it not for the wind whipping up her dark hair behind her.

Beren finds his own mouth is very dry.

He buried Baragund his cousin, and avenged him; and he has not thought of his slaughtered companions for a long time.

(There's only so much survivor's guilt one person can have, and it is usually the screams of Finrod and his Ten that haunt Beren's nightmares.)

Morwen is not now the thirteen-year-old he remembers, her face sterner and more sorrowful, but somehow she is the image of her dead father.

"Hello, little cousin," he croaks out.

Morwen stares at him.

Lúthien comes to the rescue. "You must be the lady Morwen," she says warmly, setting Lalaith down so that she can drop into a graceful curtsey. Her Taliska is hesitant, but beautiful. (Everything about Lúthien is beautiful.) "Beren has told me so much of you. And your children are charming."

"Beren's dead," Morwen says at last, shakily. "And – you—"

"I was dead," says Beren, "but now I'm not. I don't know how to explain it, cousin, but—" He holds his hand out to her, letting the Ring of Barahir gleam green upon his finger in the setting sun. "It really is me."

Morwen makes another small sound, swaying where she stands. Her hand rests on her son's dark head as though he is the only thing keeping her upright.

"Mother?" Túrin says nervously.

Before things can get any more awkward the lord of the house comes out to seek his family, perhaps wondering what is taking them so long. "Morwen," he says quietly, seeing her stiff posture.

But Morwen takes a breath. "We have guests, Húrin," she says, composed again. "This is my kinsman Beren Erchamion, and his – and his wife, the Princess of Doriath."

Lúthien turns her dazzling smile on Húrin. "A pleasure to meet you," she says gaily. "But call me rather the Lady of Dorthonion."

(to be continued)

#silmarillion #my fic #bullet point fic #the fairest stars #beren #luthien #fingon #maedhros #russingon #here we gooo!!#very excited for where we're going with this arc #this thing definitely needs more editing but I lost patience so have it now #say hi to a bunch of new characters (more are coming later too)#and a new set of political problems #also guess who DOESN'T appear here for the first time in 21 parts I'm as shocked as you are #(he'll be back next time dw)#also nobody died or got stabbed or had a breakdown or got nearly executed or like. even stubbed their toe here so BE GRATEFUL

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annoyinglandmagazine · 18 days

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Elrond and Elros Series Ideas 2

For a framing devise, which maybe shouldn’t be revealed until maybe halfway through the first season, I think it’s probably Elrond explaining it to Bilbo as he tries to compile his songs and history extracts of the Old Tales and takes full advantage of any primary sources he can find. The story is interspersed with Elrond packing things away for his journey west, you see things like murials of ships coming to life at the start of an episode and rings being taken out of their boxes suddenly switching to a scene where you can see them on the hands of one of the characters of the show.

As a battle scene with Maedhros taking out an entire battalion of orcs single handedly (pun fully intended) fades out you can see the same sword carefully taken out of its intricate scabbard and despite the layer of dust it is sharp as ever as it is cradled in hands that clearly aren’t the scarred one’s from the scene. The finale absolutely has to end with Elrond balancing on the prow of the ship to Valinor with a soft smile on his face and one tear rolling down his cheek as he gazes at the horizon.

The framing will also serve to explain why most of the first half of the season or so, four or five episodes, are in a more broad strokes epic style with very few little details or casual dialogue, mostly it’s political and military discussions, it comes across as if it’s more a story that’s been passed down because it’s not from Elrond’s point of view. It’s mostly a large scale kind of story with big battle scenes and political drama.

This is juxtaposed with the clips of the twins and their relationship with the Feanorians in the camp and Maglor and Maedhros in which we see Elrond learning how to heal because he’s the only one there that can and there’s loads of really sweet emotional moments where it looks like Maedhros is finally starting to accept them and you get much more dialogue with little bits of humour as well because this is what Elrond remembers.

Basically it feels like an entirely different show about two feared war lords letting down their barriers in order to try and form a tentative bond with these scared children as they grow up and it’s a really moving subplot next to the main plot of armies fighting dragons and Balrogs and kings and lords trying to form stable alliances in the unnavigable situation that is elf politics (especially the Finarfin and Gil Galad High Kingship of The Noldor situation because there is a lot of mileage in that one.)

The first time we see the Third Kinslaying properly is a bit later in the season, there’s vague flashes that allude to it in the twin’s nightmares, is Oropher explaining to Thranduil that they mustn’t fully trust the Noldor which comes on the heels of intense political manoeuvring the entire episode between him and Gil Galad. He refers to how they destroyed two of their people’s cities and ended the line of their royal family in one brutal attack. The way this scene is done should definitely open up with warning bells ringing louder and louder as the camera cuts from Mirkwood to Sirion and the most menacing music possible plays over the Feanorians entering.

It absolutely has to be an intensely brutal scene, maybe not in the graphic violence sense but emotionally the destruction has to be devastating, buildings set on fire, maybe a toy in a child’s limp hand or something like that; it’s horrifying is the point. Elwing flings herself into the sea and it ends with Oropher looking over the burning wreckage from the distance, just a few hours too late, a thriving settlement reduced to nothingness in the space of a day.

The Sindar all believe the twins to be dead and no one ever speaks the name of Elwing’s child or children, it isn’t specified, because it’s such a dreadful tragedy; they don’t show Elrond and Elros as Elwing’s sons until the end of the first season when we see two six year olds hiding in a wardrobe in a burning building and suddenly there’s footsteps and the door is thrown open to reveal Maglor stained with blood.

It’s referenced previously that the twins guardians have a dark reputation and it may have already been said that they are the sons of Feanor who were responsible for the massacre so it’s not a leap for it to be confirmed that they found the twins through dubious means but this is the first time people who don’t have the background knowledge will see where the twins came from.

Elros might brandish a sword at him but Maglor slowly takes off his helmet off and tells him they won’t come to any harm. Eventually he manages to coax them out and takes them in his arms and just as the camera pans out over the wreckage of Sirion once more you can hear the hushed voices of a conversation something like this; Maedhros: Elwing’s sons? Truly Maglor? Maglor: Well who else will take them? We killed their mother after all.

#Silmarillion #tolkienfamilyweek #lotr #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #kidnap fam #maedhros #maglor #bilbo baggins #first age #war of wrath #ereinion gil galad #finarfin #Oropher #thranduil

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animatorweirdo · 1 month

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The White-Scaled Dragon Princess Part 2

Part 1

You have found yourself a home in the new land, far away from Westeros and those who would wish harm upon you and your dragon. But then you face new types of challenges when you befriend a Noldor prince. Can you trust him and find a long-lasting friend in him? Will you ever overcome your fear of the world around you? Will you ever share your painful past with him? And could you possibly even find yourself in love with the said prince?

Warnings: mentions of injuries, passing out, Meraxes frightening people, reader being socially awkward, fear of people, Fingon being a tease and charming, Meraxes trying to kill Fingon a couple of times, heavy angst, anxiety, self-hatred, self-harm, reader needs serious therapy, reader trying to overcome her fears, adventuring, comfort, Fingon being caring, mentions of depression, and a happy ending.

(Note: I tagged those, who wanted to be tagged in the previous part)

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- Three years had passed since you arrived in Middle Earth.

- You had found a new home with an elderly woman named Ioreth, who had saved your life when your injuries from your fall became too much for you, and you lost consciousness.

- Meraxes was the one to find her after you fell unconscious and possibly scared her into helping you. Luckily, Ioreth did not seem to mind treating you even though the dragon kept a careful guard and growled if she made sudden movements.

- You were first scared of her when you woke up, thinking she saw you as a monster and prepared to leave as soon as possible, but Ioreth then fed you and asked for your story, showing no sign of hatred or fear toward you.

- Feeling somewhat hopeful and trusting, you told her your story and how you got injured during a fall. To your surprise, she showed sympathy, and despite having been threatened to help you by your mountain-sized dragon, she offered a place in her home for you.

- She had seen stranger creatures, so she was not much phased by your scales. And you were nearly the same age as her granddaughter, so she would only feel awful if she sent you away.

- You nearly wanted to cry for her kindness. For your whole life, you believed no one would think twice before chasing you away and calling you a monster. And here was this elderly woman, who offered you a place in her home despite having been threatened by your dragon and knowing you only for a day.

- And thus, you began to help her with the everyday chores, wanting to make yourself use for her. You would help her with the cleaning and the gathering of herbs as she was an experienced healer.

- You might have shown over-eagerness to help her with everything as she snapped at you that she was not so old that she needed someone to gather her every need.

- You felt ashamed, thinking you had overstepped and annoyed her, but then she comforted you and calmly explained that you could leave the house chores to her while you could deal with things that needed walking and traveling. You agreed to the arrangement, and you began to get comfortable with your new life.

- You did find her home interesting since her house was built in the mountains, away from the nearby town. Ioreth explained she was not very fond of people and liked the peace of the mountains, which you partially understood, and it also worked for you since it meant you could stay near Meraxes.

- When you recovered and decided to live with Ioreth, Meraxes found herself a cave in another part of the mountains, away from the town, but not too far that you wouldn’t be able to come visit her.

- You incidentally made friends with Ioreth’s grandaughter, Freda, who was one of the only ones in their family eager to visit Ioreth whenever she liked.

- You first tried to avoid her when she came to visit Ioreth. You did not want to cause Ioreth trouble by frightening her grandaughter and making the townspeople think she lived with a monster. But then you accidentally dumped on Freda without your cloak, and her reaction was not what you expected.

- She reacted to you surprisingly well. She marveled the white scales that adorned your scales, touching them and tracing each line with her fingers. It was slightly overwhelming as you are not used to someone touching your scales like that. She stopped when Ioreth smacked her in the head and called her out for touching you without your permission.

- She apologized and then started asking questions. You couldn't quite keep up with her questions but tried your best to answer all of them.

- She then declared herself as your friend when you told her you did not have any friends in the mountain besides Ioreth. You were baffled by her because you had never met someone who just decided to be your friend after knowing you only for a day, but soon you became happy about it as she became one of your best friends.

- You adored her eccentrics and how many things she had to say. She was so full of life, and you do not think you ever had a friend that was someone of your age. Even the new maids you were given did not talk so much to you. On the contrary, they never spoke more than three words whenever you tried to converse with them.

- But despite your newfound friendship with Freda, you decided not to introduce her to Meraxes. She might have accepted you, but you did not want to risk her getting scared by your beloved dragon and have the whole town chase you away. Ioreth promised to keep it a secret, understanding your fear.

- But you did agree to visit the town with Freda’s encouragement.

- She wanted you to meet the rest of the family. You felt fearful of the idea of being seen by the townspeople, but you agreed as long as you got to keep your scales hidden by your cloak and the gloves she had gifted you.

- It was unnerving to have so many eyes on you when you walked through the town with Freda. You followed her like a lost child, but you tried to push yourself and see things you never allowed yourself to see outside the walls of your home.

- Freda’s family was kind to you and showed gratitude when they heard you decided to keep company to Ioreth, the stubborn woman refusing to live in the town with them after her husband's death.

- Their welcoming presence felt comforting, and to your surprise, they did not get upset or pressure you to uncover yourself when you told them you felt more comfortable being covered by your cloak. They were respectful and assured you they would patiently wait until you felt comfortable showing yourself to them.

- You honestly did not know what to make of it, but their assurance made you eager to visit them more often.

- After two years of getting to know Freda’s family, you decided to take the next step and show yourself to them. With your permission, Freda told them of your unique condition, and with enough prepping, you finally revealed your scales to them.

- They were surprised when you showed them your white scales, and for a moment, you prepared to face rejection and run out of the house, but then you were surprised by their acceptance. They welcomed you wholeheartedly and praised the beauty they did not expect you to have.

- Their constant praising left you flustered as you had never heard anyone call you beautiful— you were used to people staring at you and calling you unnatural. But, you rejoiced in their acceptance and now felt like you were part of the family.

- They even offered you to stay with them. You felt touched by the offer but expressed your desire to remain with Ioreth, and they respected your decision. But you became comfortable showing yourself inside their home.

- After three years had passed, you found yourself happy and having learned much about the world around you.

- It was shocking to realize that no one knew about Westeros and that creatures such as orcs and gods called the Valar existed. The three imposing mountains you saw in the distance were called Thangorodrim, and the graceful beings you encountered were called the Elves. It was a lot to take in, but the only reasonable explanation you could muster was that you had somehow traveled to another world.

- You would have deemed yourself mad if you hadn't experienced your new life. Feeling a kind of happiness knowing it meant safety from Jaeherys and those who sought your demise, yet also a tinge of sadness, realizing you would never know the fate of your father.

- You could only guess he had either been killed or executed.

- After three months into the new year, Meraxes suddenly fell ill. She exhibited reduced energy, ate less, and appeared noticeably grumpier than usual. Perplexed by the sudden change in behavior, you sought advice from Ioreth, who suggested that she might have ingested something that caused her illness, having seen similar symptoms in animals like pigs and cows.

- Ioreth had a medicine, but since Meraxes was bigger than any pig or cow, she would need to take a larger amount.

- You were worried for Meraxes, and around the corner was a celebration held by the town.

- Freda had urged you to join in. Despite your hesitation, you didn’t have the heart to deny her invitation, especially when Ioreth was joining the party too. It was somewhat exciting as you had never attended a party that wasn’t held in your home or by your father.

- It was a type of celebration where the people would dress up and put paint on their faces to pay tribute to the Valars, so Freda suggested you would come to the party with your scales and additional paint.

- You didn’t feel comfortable with the idea, but when her younger siblings asked if they could do your hair and put the pain on you, you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse them.

- Freda and her mother seized the opportunity to pick out a dress for you, leaving you with no room to refuse as they were eager to dress you up for the occasion. It was a lovely dress that complemented well with your red cloak, which Freda insisted you wear instead of your usual green one. The combination popped out your scales, and Freda’s siblings did a wonderful job on your hair.

- They had also painted your face with beautiful white lines and designs that perfectly complemented the scales on your skin.

- You nearly mistook yourself for a mystical being and even found yourself beautiful. Freda and her family did not waste the opportunity to dress you for the celebration.

- You were still nervous when the night of the party arrived, but as Freda said, most of the town people had dressed up and painted their faces with colors. No one seemed to have suspected a thing when you walked outside with Freda, your scales showing and everything. On the contrary, you received many compliments and admiring looks when people realized you were Freda’s strange hooded friend.

- For the time in your life, you had fun at a party, watching people dance, playing songs, and eating a large variety of foods.

- You mostly stuck with Freda or any of her family members during the celebration as you didn’t possess strong social skills to talk with people.

- You then noticed there were also elves in the party. It was a rare sight since elves did not often visit human towns.

- Freda explained they were part of the Noldor. The age of peace had flourished since Morgoth had hidden himself away in his northern fortress, so the elves would always join a party whenever a chance occurred.

- You curiously observed the partying elves. It was curious to see them, and for a moment, your attention was taken by an elf who had braids and what seemed to be golden ribbons in his hair. He was quite handsome. His raven locks were nearly as dark as the night sky above you, and it seemed he enjoyed the party the most out of his kin.

- When it was time for a dance, you stood on the sidelines and watched. You liked it that way since you had never been lucky to be asked to dance before, so you never truly learned how to dance. Unknowns to you, you had caught the attention of the elf with the golden ribbons.

- Fingon, the energetic Noldor prince, had joined the party upon change, wanting to escape the court and his duties for one night. He enjoyed parties, and the Edain always knew how to throw an interesting one. He felt pity he couldn’t celebrate it like he used to with his siblings and cousins, but as long as it took his mind away from the darker things of the world— it was enough.

- He was in the midst of conversation and drinks with some friends till his gaze landed upon you. He nearly didn't believe his eyes. To him, you were drop-dead gorgeous. The red cloak made you stand out, but the white paint and the scale resembling stones that adorned your skin sparkled like diamonds. It was like Aule himself had dressed you in the earth’s finest jewels, and if it weren't for your rounded ears and your somewhat ordinary demeanor, Fingon might have mistaken you for a beautiful princess or even a Maia.

- Fingon was teased when his friends caught him staring at you and told him to go talk to you since he was clearly captivated by you.

- He only laughed them off but decided to follow their advice and approach you.

- You were startled when he suddenly came to you, and with his gentle yet teasing voice, he started talking.

- “Now, what would a lovely maiden like yourself be doing here all alone while others have fun dancing? Is the party not to your liking?” Fingon questioned teasingly.

“No… it's just,” you hesitated to answer. Fingon was captivated by your quiet yet soft voice and even more when he saw your violet eyes.

“I’ve never been much of a dancer, and I enjoy watching others having fun,” you finally answered.

- Enamored, Fingon continued conversing with you, complimenting your appearance. While you were somewhat charmed by his praise, you couldn't help but tease him. He was one head shorter than you, something you didn't expect when he approached you. He seemed a lot taller in the distance.

- Fingon found your shyness and wit endearing, and he continued to keep you company. He introduced himself, mentioning that he was the first prince of the High King Fingolfin.

- “I’m (Name), the daughter of the ki—” you quickly stopped, realizing what you were about to say. Fingon introduced himself in a manner familiar to those in the court that the etiquette came back naturally to you.

Fingon looked at you curiously.

“Just (Name), daughter of a simple man,” you fixed yourself with a fake smile.

- Luckily, Fingon seemed to have bought it, and you two then spent a fun night together, talking and joining some games. It was perhaps one of the only times you did not wish for a party to end.

- When the night came to an end, you two bid farewell to each other. Fingon felt shame that he had to leave so soon after meeting you. He would have enjoyed getting to know you more and then placed a kiss on the back of your hand as a goodnight. Your poor heart nearly exploded out of your chest by the act. You had never received such courtesy before, and you felt slightly ashamed that he was not kissing mere decorations on your hand but your actual scales.

- Freda teased you endlessly when you told her what had happened and how much fun you had talking with Fingon. You tolerated her jests through the night until the morning arrived.

- You considered going to the place where you had heard the elves spend the night in hopes of seeing Fingon again but decided to go to the mountains when Ioreth told you that she had prepared the medicine for Meraxes.

- You took your red cloak as your green cloak was at Ioreth’s house, then made your way to the mountain with Meraxes’s medicine. You two decided you would try to give Meraxes her medicine through a piece of meat since food was one of the only ways to convince someone to take their medicine.

- When you reached Meraxes’s cave, she was already waiting for you there. You greeted her, then handed her the meat you carried in your basket, letting her eat it from your hand and watching as the medicine seemed to have taken effect. She looked more lively and even asked for more.

- Relief washed over you as you gave her pets, but unknown to you, someone had followed you to her den.

- Fingon, who was preparing to leave with his kin, wanted to try to see you one last time before he had to return home. However, when he saw you leave your friend's home and make your way toward the mountains, he became worried since orcs and other creatures alike could be found hiding there. So, he followed you, only to be startled when he found you standing in front of a giant silver-scaled dragon.

- It had been ages when he last saw the ferocious golden dragon, Glaurung, and the fact that this dragon was bigger and had wings was enough to make him call out to you and draw out his bow.

- Meraxes was quick to go defensive and roar at the intruder.

- You were momentarily stunned as you had no idea someone had followed you to the mountain.

- Meraxes lunged at Fingon with her jaws open, but Fingon was quick to roll to the side, narrowly avoiding being bitten whole. Recovering swiftly, he drew his bow again, ready to aim for her one remaining eye.

- “No!” You yelled, pushing his bow away so that his arrow only struck Meraxes in the snout, aggravating her even further.

- You then saw how Meraxes’s jaws began to glow with the familiar fiery glow. She was intending to burn Fingon alive.

- Meraxes was protective and stubborn enough to ignore your orders, so the only thing you could come up with to save the elf was to grab him and run to the edge of the cliff. Meraxes released her flames, but luckily, you were quick enough to jump over the edge and slide down the hill before her flames could touch you. However, now you were sliding hard against the cliff wall with a far drop beneath you.

- Your claws helped you keep a tight grip on Fingon and slow down your fall, but then you lost your hold, and you both rolled down the hill before you finally reached the bottom, surrounded by forest.

- You both groaned in pain as you both suffered some cuts and bruises, but then you recovered when Fingon picked himself up and urged you to come with him before your dragon could find you again.

- You were quick to explain that she was your friend and she only attacked because he was an intruder to her territory. Fingon was confused, and you had to go into details about how she was your steed and that you had her since childhood.

- He only seemed more confused, questioning why you would want to harbor a creature of Morgoth.

- You then explained that she was not one of Morgoth’s creatures and that you both were from somewhere where dragons were common and could be received as steeds. You then revealed that the scales on your skin were no decor but actual scales, things you had been born with.

- Fingon seemed to believe you since he did saw how you used your claws to slow down the fall.

- To your frustration, you found yourselves on the other side of the mountains, far from the town and other people. Fortunately, you were gifted with a keen sense of smell, so you began leading Fingon back to the other side by following the scent of people. Despite the long walk and climbing, you didn't deem it safe to summon Meraxes. She would most likely try to kill the elf again if you did.

- Fingon started questioning about your origins and everything related to Meraxes and your scales.

- You tried to answer all his questions and assure him that you were not in league with Morgoth and that you came from a different place, a place he would most likely not find on maps.

- It took you half a day to finally find your way back to the other side, but before Fingon could leave to join his kin, you stopped him and pleaded with him to remain quiet about you and Meraxes.

- Fingon felt conflicted as it was one of his duties to tell what was happening on his father’s lands, but then you told him how you and your dragon had already lived three years without an incident and that you had nowhere else to go if you and Meraxes got chased away.

- You begged and even told him you would do anything as long as you could stay in your new home.

- Fingon felt a tug in his heart as you were sincere and looked like you were on the brink of tears. You saved him from the dragon but also loved the said dragon enough that you would choose to leave with it rather than abandon it.

- It was a complicated situation, and all he could tell you was he would let you know what he would decide to do with the knowledge and then left.

- Anxiety and troubled thoughts had haunted you ever since that day.

- It had only been three days since the incident, and you were already considering packing your things and leaving with Meraxes while you still had the chance. Ioreth tried to comfort you after hearing about the incident, but nothing seemed to work to calm down the paranoia that cribbled you from within.

- The thoughts became more terrible, and you started beating yourself for allowing such a mistake to happen.

- It even got to the point where you ended up with a manic panic attack and started scratching the scales off your arm, trying to trim them away.

- The lingering hatred you felt towards the scales resurfaced, driving you to scratch at them until the ground was covered in white, bloodied scales, and your arms were left bleeding from the numerous cuts and spots where the scales had once been.

- You would then silently cry and then clean up the mess before Ioreth could notice and get worried for you.

- With Fingon, he struggled to decide what to do. On one hand, he knew he shouldn't keep something like this hidden from his father and people. However, upon further reflection, he realized he didn't want anything bad to happen to you. Dragons were primarily associated with Morgoth, and given your half-dragon nature, it was likely that you would be ostracized or even chased away if the people learned about you.

- Fingon could tell that you were not lying about the things you said, and he felt a little awful when he remembered the desperate look on your face. Would he only be damning your life if he told your secret? You had not done anything suspicious yet, so maybe…

- Shaking his head, he then came to a difficult decision.

- After the fourth day, as you were helping Ioreth do some stitching, Fingon came to visit you. You were surprised as he had come alone and not with a mob of people like you had first expected.

- Fingon suggested a deal since you did save him from your dragon’s flames and helped him return to his kin. He would keep silent about you and your dragon, but to ensure nothing unexpected would happen, he would come to visit and monitor you.

- You accepted the deal without a second thought. It felt reasonable to you and it meant you got to stay with Ioreth.

- Fingon then began asking questions. He inquired about your homeland, your parents, and the reason for your stay in Hithlum. You answered honestly, sharing details about your background but omitting the parts about Westeros being in another world, your royal status as a former princess, as well as the circumstances involving your cousin and your need to escape.

- He also had strange questions, like if you could breathe fire and fly. They were the only questions that baffled you, but since Freda had asked similar questions on your first meeting— you were not bothered by them.

- You could not breathe fire to your knowledge, neither were you born with wings. The only special features you had were that you could see very well in the dark, had a keen sense of smell, and were physically stronger than an average man.

- The day went by quickly, with you answering his questions about you and Meraxes until it was time for him to depart. You thanked him continuously, trying to show gratefulness for his decision to keep your secret.

- He seemed sincere and told you to expect him to come for another visit soon enough before sending him off.

- The heavyweight from your mind was momentarily lifted. You were good at telling when people were lying, and Fingon was sincere through and through, so you did not have to worry if you could trust him.

- He visited once a week. Fingon questioned a lot about Meraxes and then about you. It seemed like he was trying to monitor your every move, but he quickly softened up, and you two started talking about yourselves. Well, you mostly listened to him talk about his life and what his family was like. You had very few good things you wanted to share with him, and you did not want to ruin the good mood he often brought with your sad life.

- You did fill out his curiosity when he asked about Meraxes and why she was so protective of you, and he seemed to have possessed some pity for the dragon when you told him how her previous rider died on her back.

- However, you decided letting the two meet each other again wasn’t a good idea, especially after what happened last time. You did suggest that Fingon would leave you a glove or something with his scent on it so you could try to get Meraxes used to it and avoid further incidents. Reluctantly, he agreed to the plan for the greater good. Unfortunately, Meraxes proved to be difficult, only growling at the scent and huffing away when you tried to tell her not to harm the elf next time.

- An unusual friendship was born between you and Fingon. His warm and forward nature made you eager for his visits, and you started asking more about Middle Earth and news around the world.

- One day, you dared to ask him if he could bring books and teach you his language. You held love toward languages and thought his people’s language sounded beautiful.

- When he agreed, you were gleaming with joy. It was perhaps the first time Fingon saw you smile openly, and he thought your excitement was adorable.

- You immediately started reading and learning when he brought you the books and took it as a little personal challenge to surprise him with your linguistic skills. You have always been a quick learner when it came to languages.

- Then Freda suddenly came to visit when Fingon was there. She was quick to take a protective stance when she saw him and realized he knew about your scales and even threatened to beat him up if he dared to do anything foul to you.

- You had to calm her down, though you felt touched that she came to your defense. She then gushed and teased you about your new friendship with the elf. She even teased if you had a growing crush on the elf.

- You profoundly apologized to Fingon for the encounter, but he only smiled. He found it admirable and complimented you having a good friend. It made you somewhat happy because it proved Freda was one of the first true friends you ever had.

- When you told him you had never seen much of the world around you except on Meraxes’s back, he suggested you two would go on an adventure together.

- The idea made you fearful as you had never dared to venture the lands on foot. You also felt a bit embarrassed since you had flown for most of your life and didn't know how to ride a horse.

- Fingon did not tease you when you told him. He encouraged you and assured you that you would be fine with him around. No one will dare to harm you in his presence.

- The voices in your head said no to the offer, but wanting to see the world at least once, you agreed.

- Your body was shaking and nearly refusing to leave the house when the day arrived. Ioreth helped you pack necessities, but it was like your conscious and body wanted to stay in the safety zone, pushing all kinds of thoughts into your head. You nearly changed your mind until Fingon arrived on his horse, and you managed to compose yourself somehow.

- You felt excited when you climbed behind him on his horse, and he took you farther from the town. It became easy letting him ride you around, and you finally saw things beyond the borders of the town.

- Fingon showed you all the beautiful sights of Hithlum. The fear and the blood rush calmed down as you were awed by the sights and things you never saw in the sky.

- However, you would start shaking when Fingon would pass some other towns, and people would look at you. You were covered in your cloak, so they most likely looked at you because of the height difference between you and Fingon. You were one head taller than him. You might have also held a bit too hard on him during your shaking episode and felt embarrassed when he gently asked you to ease your grip around his waist.

- You two then arrived at a good picnic spot and challenged each other in fishing. Fingon dared if you could catch a fish with your bare hands, and you accepted since you did have a quick reaction and keen senses.

- However, when you pulled up your sleeve and focused on the small shadows in the water, Fingon noticed the state of your arm. He saw how it was covered in small cuts and appeared to have missing scales. The redness of your skin concerned him, as your arm looked like something had scratched it hatefully.

- You then tried to snatch the fish from the water. You got a hold of the fish and pulled it out, but it then slipped out of your hands and fell into the water.

- You two laughed about it, and then Fingon tried to inquire about your arm. Your behavior changed as you explained you had a little incident and covered your arm. Nothing he needed to worry about.

- Fingon felt suspicious of your words but pushed it back as you two then had a picnic and watched the stars when the night arrived, having planned to stay the night outside.

- Fingon introduced you to most of the constellations and explained how Varda was the goddess who created the stars. You listened attentively, enjoying the stories and the sound of his voice.

- When Fingon mentioned the life he still had with his family in Valinor, you felt a small rush of courage and decided to share more details about your past life.

- You shared what kind of person your father was and how you were abandoned at birth by both your father and birth mother, and the only person who took you in and raised you was your father’s first wife. How most people treated you and how you were always known as your father’s half-monster daughter and the only surviving child out of all his other dead half-monster children.

- Fingon was first surprised to learn you used to be a noble lady, but then he threw a few jokes and called you ‘my lady’

- You did not correct that you were actually a princess and found humor in his jokes.

- You then revealed the true reason why you left your home, and Fingon felt sympathy for you, sorrowed how much hardship you had faced even though you were one of the most gentle-hearted people in his eyes.

- He comforted you, and you found yourself surprisingly relieved for sharing. You two then spent the night sleeping against the tree till morning finally arrived. Unfortunately, trouble arrived right at the crack of dawn.

- Fingon was still soundly sleeping till his ears picked up growling above him. He opened his eyes and looked up, seeing Meraxes snarling and glaring down at him with fury in her golden eye.

- “Well, I hope you are here to apologize for the last time,” Fingon said before closing his eyes again.

- You woke up to Fingon’s screams as your dragon dragged him by his foot.

- You quickly acted, running up to him and grabbing his hands before Meraxes could pick him up and swallow him whole.

- “Meraxes! Let go!” You yelled as you ended up playing tug war with your dragon, your elf friend being the rope.

- Meraxes ignored your orders, even when you tried to yell in high valyrian, so you then took out your claws and smacked her hard enough in the snout that she finally let go of Fingon’s foot.

- You both fell to the ground, but you quickly stood protectively in front of Fingon when your dragon tried to attack him again. You prevented her from getting past you and tried to tell her off.

- She growled at you. You finally had enough and snarled back at her, revealing your teeth and warning her off. Meraxes finally took you seriously and backed away, releasing crumbles and glaring at Fingon.

- You sighed in relief and started apologizing to Fingon for the mess. You were so eager to go on a trip with him that you had completely forgotten to tell Meraxes. She most likely thought he was trying to kidnap you or something.

- Fingon tried to calm you down and assure you he was not angry, but you dismissed it, having been unable to keep Meraxes out of trouble and nearly getting him killed for the second time.

- You then decided it was for the best that you two went home and flew back on Meraxes, feeling upset about the whole ordeal.

- The next week felt excruciating, and you started dreading the next day when Fingon was supposed to visit. What if he hated you now? What if he deemed you were unsafe to keep around, and now he would bring people to chase you out? Why can’t you do anything right?

- Those questions kept haunting you and nearly drove you mad. You did not dare to face Fingon again, but you also wanted to have some kind of answer to what he thought of you now. You did not want to lose the friendship you had with him. You liked being with him, and the thought of him hating you made the feeling worse.

- You looked at your scales, and the looming sense of self-hatred returned. If only you had been born without them, perhaps you could have lived a normal life.

- Your heart began to pound painfully against your chest, and your breathing became frantic as you started scratching the scales again, desperate to remove them from your skin.

- The scales dropped to the ground, and your arm began to bleed from the cuts you gave yourself from your claws. Your arm was burning with pain, but you ignored it and even started scratching your other arm out of its scales. You were too deep in your panic to notice someone approaching you.

- Fingon tried to call out to you, but when you ignored him, he then grabbed both of your hands, forcing you to stop and look at him.

- He gently calmed you down from the panic attack, but you looked away, pleading him not to look at you.

- He comforted you and then begged you to tell him what drove you to hurt yourself. He continuously assured you he was there to help, but he wouldn’t be able to if you didn’t tell him. You couldn’t take it anymore and started sobbing, confessing to everything.

- You told him what kind of life you lived as the half-monster princess, how you lost your beloved mother when you were sixteen, how you killed the knight who killed her, how uncaring your father was of her, and how you were punished living in isolation, how your birth mother isolated you from your only friends, how your father committed more atrocities and how he was the reason you were born like this. And the last thing he did was to tell you to run away before your cousin could find you and kill you for being a monster.

- You had no one else to turn to, and your half-monster side still prevents you from finding happiness.

- Fingon listened to you while caring for your arms, cleaning them, and adding healing ointment given by Ioreth after telling her what had happened. He gently bandaged your arms.

- He was nearly driven into tears by your story and how you possessed such self-hatred that you would even harm yourself.

- He now understood why you were so scared of the world around you and why you always wanted to keep yourself hidden.

- You then asked him not to hate you, as you genuinely liked him and wanted to keep him as a friend. He was one of your only friends besides Freda.

- He comforted you that he never hated you in the first place and that what happened with Meraxes was an accident. Maybe the two were never fated to get along in the first place.

- He then did something surprising and embraced you. He comforted you and assured you that he would never hate you just because your dragon doesn’t like him. He then kept telling you that being born unique did not make you a monster and that you were deserving of love and friends.

- He also told you he knew people who looked normal yet were just as terrible as monsters. Compared to them, you were innocent as a dove.

- You nearly couldn't understand his words, but the feeling of comfort in his arms was enough to make you hold on to him and cry.

- Fingon then held you and did not allow you to leave till you had shed all the pain and tears you needed.

- Fingon shared what happened with Freda, and the latter then forced you to live in the town with her family for the time being. The two believed you needed company and care so that you would not try to hurt yourself again.

- It helped a little to improve your state of mind, and Freda’s family refused to let you go out, insisting you stayed inside until your arms were healed.

- Fingon started visiting you more often, bringing elven remedies and helping you care for your arms. Even though you had the qualities of a dragon, you were still very human and thus vulnerable to infections. Fingon wanted to make sure you recovered without falling sick.

- But since you opened up about your past and cried all the bottled emotions you had held back over the years, you became lethargic, thus making you smile became more challenging.

- Fingon asked Ioreth and other healers what he could do to help you recover in mind and spirit, and one thing he learned was that music was a good remedy to heal someone from a depressive state of mind, so he decided to sing to you.

- You became captivated by his singing voice and music, and it did help you become more lively.

- Under his care, you started to look after yourself more, and to ensure you would not scratch yourself again, you trimmed your nails and claws. They would grow back, and that way, you assured Fingon you would not try hurting yourself again.

- Although you still had the habit of picking scales off your skin, but not bad enough to cause injuries.

- You even started going out again, mostly to visit Ioreth and Meraxes, though you were still upset with her for the incident.

- You even started ignoring your beloved dragon, confusing her. She once came near the town to see you and was startled when you angrily told her to return to her cave. However, you soon felt awful for snapping at her and apologized to her.

- You felt a little ashamed from the constant care by Freda and Fingon. In your home, such attention might have labeled you as short-tempered and overly emotional. Those were the traits you did not like sharing with your father.

- But then you began to notice something within yourself when you continued listening to Fingon’s music or looked forward to his visits.

- Your arms had gotten better thanks to him. The cuts had healed, and by the next month, your arms began to grow new scales.

- Fingon was gentle with you and was always happy to play you a new song. His care and willingness to still come visit sparked something within your heart.

- You two even got more things to talk about when you had told him your past, and the elven prince seemed not to have changed much, even throwing jokes and treating you like royalty.

- It felt too weird to be regarded as a princess again, so you asked him to treat you normally, and he respected your wish. Although he did boast how he was right since you being a princess was his first impression of you.

- Fingon somehow managed to keep you flustered, and it soon became obvious enough that you were falling for him.

- You denied it at first. You did adore him as a friend, but falling in love with him was too far of a stretch. You were blessed enough not to have him hate you for his two near-death experiences, but having him fall for someone like you was simply an impossible fever dream.

- Freda became excited when you shared with her about your feelings for Fingon and regretted it because now she was pestering you to go forward with them.

- You refused, and she said you were taking things too pessimistically. You should at least try to see if he had an ounce of interest in you.

- Freda had a good way with words, so you became haunted by the thought and started observing Fingon when he visited you.

- He seemed like always, and when you started taking walks outside the town, he was gentle with you and tried to keep up a good mood. You always listened because you enjoyed hearing him talk about random and mundane things, and he also started saying positive things about you.

- He continued how you had many useful perks, such as a keen sense of smell, so you could always find misplaced things, could see in the dark so light was a never problem for you, and the scales being a natural armor for you, protecting you from small things like flies and mosquitoes who loved to bother everyone. That part made you laugh because you never really had a problem with mosquitoes.

- His positive talking helped you to see yourself in a better light, though not fully removing the years of hatred you accumulated.

- And to your startle, you noticed signs that he might be interested in you romantically.

- You didn’t know how to handle that information. In a small part of your mind, it made you feel happy, but in others, it gave you new fears.

- After being constantly pestered and advised by Ioreth that you should grasp happiness when it's offered to you, you decided to make a bold move and ask Fingon if he could take you on another adventure.

- You reasoned that revealing your past to him helped relieve the heavy weight from your chest, and you were also tired of living in fear all the time. You wanted to experience all that life had to offer before the end of your time.

- Fingon excitedly agreed, but he questioned if you were comfortable with the idea as he wanted to avoid pushing your limits.

- You assured him that you wanted it. You did not want to keep hiding all the time. You just needed to assure Meraxes this time and ensure she would not jump to conclusions.

- Fingon then insisted he would come with you to see her, to show her he was not a threat to you. You felt hesitant, but to your surprise, your dragon did not try to kill him in sight when you two came to visit her.

- She did glare at him and crumbled while you told her of your plans, but she didn’t try anything and allowed you to leave without an issue.

- It was a surprising change, but then you figured she must have changed her attitude so you wouldn’t get upset with her and ignore her like last time.

- She was a stubborn old lady, but she always cared deeply for you. She was perhaps that overprotective, stubborn mother figure in your life– wanting to keep you safe from everything and making it hard for you to try new things.

- You and Fingon then went on another adventure. You still became nervous at the sight of people, but now you felt less afraid at the thought of traveling.

- Fingon showed you new places and even took you to see his home, which you thought was beautiful.

- At the end of the day, when Fingon escorted you back home. You had contemplated about your feelings for him and finally decided to confess. You believed it was best to let him know than to hide them since you had done it for most of your life.

- You stopped Fingon beneath a tree and told him of your feelings. How you had grown to adore his free yet gentle nature, how he had helped you see good in yourself, and how you had become less afraid of the world thanks to him.

- You loved the sound of his voice, and his presence was like that of a warm sun. The world had become less dark to you when he arrived in your life.

- You understood if he only saw you as a friend and then prepared to face rejection.

- But instead of rejection, Fingon smiled and told you he accepted your feelings. He confessed that he had loved you since day one.

- He then went far as to kiss the back of your hand like he did when you first met, making your poor heart pound with fluster before telling you he would be honored to court someone like you, a maiden with diamonds embedded on her skin.

- You began crying, not out of sorrow or anger, but for the first time, in joy. You had found someone who loved you in return.

- That night went like a breeze, but it was one of the happiest nights of your life.

Taglist: @foggyturtleknightangel @carlgrimessimp

#silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #silm fic #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #maegor the cruel #targaryen reader #the white-scaled dragon princess #tolkien #fingon #fingon x reader #silmarillion x targaryen reader

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eccentricmya · 2 months

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It's interesting how, in the Maedhros poll, everybody believes he started out as a good person. Whether he later turns into a misguided soul, or an anti-hero, or an anti-villain, or straight up villain is up for debate. But the consensus on him being morally good at the beginning is unanimous (or that is how it seems to me, given how I favourably worded the poll).

I find this fascinating because I disagree. I don't think he was ever a good person; he wasn't evil but he wasn't good good.

He showed loyalty and care towards his loved ones, yet he never went out of his way to help others, nor was any particularly good deed attributed to him. Have we seen him interacting in good faith with people outside the Noldor? (But he looked for Dior's twins! Did he find them though? It's the thought that counts! Well, his thought might as well have been to capture them for ransom, who knows?)

Some examples of a character being good are Fingon, he gambled his own life to rescue Maedhros, swept in at Alqualonde thinking the Noldor were being unjustly attacked. Even Caranthir is shown to possess compassion when he rescued the Haladin. Maglor famously slew a traitor, fostered their enemy's twins, and argued to break the Oath. Finrod was often found mingling with Men and willingly walked into the enemy's lair and thus to his death, all to repay a life-saving grace.

Amidst all this, what has Maedhros done to be called 'good'? He stood aside at Losgar but did not take any action to stop it or remedy it. Indeed, he stood aside at all for Fingon, not for Idril, or Finduilas or any of the others. Then he 'begged forgiveness for the desertion in Aman' and gave up his crown to keep peace, but the question arises, why could he not ensure harmony between the factions if he was King and repenting? Was it fear of his faction's arrogance or the distrust of the other? But a king is he that can hold his own, and Maedhros knew he could not do that. I think this act was a play at leaving with his head held high than to have himself be dispossessed of it. He might not be power hungry but he was pride-driven.

Then came the Dagor Bragollach. Most of the Fëanorions are driven out of their strongholds. Where was Maedhros? We have Finrod trying to help his brothers, while he himself is saved by Beor in turn. And in the end, it is Fingolfin challenging Morgoth to get revenge, if not reprieve, for his people. Where was Maedhros? He did deeds of surpassing valour to defend his own fortress. The narrative never has him extending a helping hand to anyone.

Then comes the Union of Maedhros, the alleged helping hand. An attempt to gather Beleriand together to fight against Morgoth. But was it to defeat the Enemy once and for all, ridding the people of his tyranny? Or was it to retrieve the Silmarils? Here too, Maedhros was asking for help, not giving it. Maedhros and his brothers only ever stood against the Vala because of their Oath and personal vendetta. It was never about 'oh but Morgoth is the enemy of all free people'. Their reasons were not altruistic.

Maedhros was never portrayed as virtuous or kind or empathetic. His descriptions in canon (if we can rely on its consistency) all leaned towards how lethal he was. That is not the mark of a good person. It is easy to forget Alqualonde in light of Doriath and Sirion, but never was it said that Maedhros did not kill in the first kinslaying. If the text could note him standing aside at Losgar, if 'good person' Maedhros ever aimed to maim instead of kill at Alqualonde, we would've known. But it didn't happen. He willingly shed blood, made no attempts to diffuse the situation, and agreed with his father 'to seize all the ships and depart suddenly' while leaving the rest behind. All this before his capture and trauma induced personality changes.

He did repent some things: the desertion of Fingolfin, Doriath, Elured and Elurin (note the lack of Alqualonde and Sirion). His repeated offences though, minimise any redemptive value this could've held. Moreover, did he ever send aid to the refugees at Sirion? Did he ever compensate all those who lost their loved ones on the Ice? So did Maedhros truly repent or was it again the thought that counts?

Maedhros may not have started with sins staining his records, but he also did not start with virtues painting him golden. He was deemed a good guy, simply by virtue (one of very few) of not being a bad one.

#this is simply how I chose to read him. not an opinion on your opinion of him #or how he truly is in 'canon'#I greatly prefer to see him as someone masquerading as good or rather trying to be good when he's actually quite grey #maedhros #silmarillion #me back on my 'mae was always bad guy coded' agenda

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sotwk · 7 months

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I just read "A stab to the heart", and first of all, I loved it, just... perfect! The way the Thranduil is so worried for her and he can sense when she wakes up is just way too good for me!

Honestly, the last line of the fic: "We saw ada frightened" just hit me so deep that I had to come here. So, I didn't check to see if you have already written about this in the headcannons masterlist (and I'm sorry if you did and I haven't noticed!) but how do you think that Thranduil and their kids reacted when she died? Like, how their feelings and thoughts after this? I've always assumed Thranduil being an extremely good father, so I can't truly imagine him being mean to any of their kids, but how do you think that they (specially Thranduil) took the news that their queen had died?

Eeek! What lovely feedback and an even lovelier fic-related question! (I am so lucky and grateful to get such nice Anons in my inbox; I am spoiled.)

A Stab to the Heart (Fic Link)

Part 2 of this 2-part fic is over 50% written, but has been stalled in the basement of my brain for over six months now (yikes)! Hopefully I can shove it back into motion soon!

In regards to Thranduil being so in-tune with his wife that their minds are practically in a constant state of ósanwë (Elvish mind-link), I would like to point out a few key details about their relationship:

"A Stab to the Heart" takes place in Third Age 1012. By this time, Thranduil and Maereth have already been married for 1,188 years and have been mutually in love for an additional 1,700. And ever since they married, they were hardly ever parted for any significant amount of time (as opposed to most other Elven couples, like Celeborn and Galadriel, who would live apart for years). Needless to say, you would be hard-pressed to find a couple more tightly, lovingly bonded then the Elvenking and Elvenqueen were to each other.

THEIR ROMANTIC HISTORY: (Link to related HCs HERE) It took Thranduil about 50 years of sporadic meetings to realize he was falling in love with Maereth. However, he knew his father would loathe the idea of his son pairing off with a Noldor (much less one descended from Fëanor) and it would have great repercussions on their kingdom, so Thranduil tried to ignore his growing feelings and sought to maintain just a friendship with her.

Maereth nearly died in the Sacking of Eregion, and Thranduil had been there to witness it; he had held her while she was gravely injured and felt the terror of her slipping away from him. Ultimately, she was saved by the healing of Elrond, but this experience left a permanent mark on Thranduil. From that day on, he found the only thing that ever scared him in his life: losing Maereth to the Halls of Mandos.

What do you do when you realize you love someone so much you cannot live without them? You ask them to marry you, of course! And so Thranduil did, but it took another thousand years of determined courtship to get Maereth to say "yes".

The Aftermath of the Elvenqueen's Death

I have yet to fully write the story of this terrible tragedy (I'm intimidated by it, to be honest), but a version of it was written, including the immediate aftermath, in my Thorin-centric fic, "The Broken Shield", where Maereth died during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. I wrote out more details of her death in this headcanon post.

As for the reactions of the family (those who were left, anyway)?

OH BOY.

(SPOILERS to the SotWK AU, if anyone cares about that sort of thing, under the cut. Also, it gets pretty sad, so I apologize for the emotions this story may cause.)

Thranduil very nearly died from heartbreak. This was the darkest point in Mirkwood's history, the kingdom that had already been fighting off spiders, orcs, dark creatures, and poisons for centuries. All that was nothing compared to the realm's grief over their Elvenqueen's death, and fearing the likelihood their beloved Elvenking would either die from heartbreak, or finally leave them for the Undying Lands.

Note that by the time the Elvenqueen died, Thranduil had already lost three out of five of his sons. Only Gelir and Legolas remained, though he also had his daughter-in-law, Itarildë (Mirion's widow) and two grandchildren, Crown Prince Aranion (heir to the throne) and Princess Anariel.

Upon his return home to Mirkwood to bury the Elvenqueen's body, Thranduil was uncharacteristically cold and seemingly emotionless. He turned into stone (metaphorically) as a way of holding himself together, for the sake of the people who depended on him. He did not have strength left to properly comfort his family, and could only parrot the kingdom's motto, telling them they "will endure".

Gelir, the most impulsive of the Thranduilions (and second to Turhir as the most hot-tempered), lashed out in vengeful rage. Legolas just barely convinced him not to immediately ride out to seek revenge against the Orcs.

However, about three years after the Elvenqueen was laid to rest, Gelir once again tried to convince his father to allow him and Legolas to lead their armies to rejoin the Dwarves (Thrain's people) in their war against the orcs. Thranduil refused, and instead decreed that all travel to other realms was forbidden while the Dwarves fought their war.

Frustrated by this (and still grieving his mother), Gelir finally broke down and rebelled openly against the Elvenking. He attempted to leave Mirkwood on his own, only to be chased down by his father and dragged back to the Halls in chains, where he was thrown in prison.

Does this sound harsh? I take a pause in this dramatic tale to point out that Thranduil was a very, VERY good father to his sons all their lives. The Princes were over 2,000 years old by the time their mother died; not only were they adults, but they were wise enough to know that they were not exempt from their kingdom's laws, and should understand the grief their father carried from all these terrible losses. Not only did Thranduil need to demonstrate the strength of his authority, but he also refused to risk the death of another family member, even if it meant imprisoning his own child.

After the war ended in TA 2799, Gelir was finally released from prison, after being held there for 3 years. But instead of making peace with his father and submitting to the King's decrees, he openly criticized Mirkwood's isolationist policies, which had become even stricter after the Elvenqueen's death.

Legolas, caught between the two dearest people in the world to him, could not get them to reconcile their differences.

After another year of strife between father and son, Thranduil gave Gelir an ultimatum: reaffirm his fealty to the Elvenking and his laws, or be banished from the kingdom. Gelir, believing his home had become a "cage" that he refused to be locked in, chose banishment.

Gelir asked his brother to come with him, forcing Legolas to choose sides by staying with Thranduil. He remembered a prophetic plea his mother once made to him many years before her death: "above all, choose your father". His decision was also influenced by the special closeness he had with Thranduil.

Thus, Gelir left the kingdom in the winter of TA 2800, and cut off all contact with his family. Legolas was the only Thranduilion left.

For a century (TA 2800-2900), Thranduil struggled against his personal demons of anger and grief and longing to be with his beloved wife again. In spite of his depression however, he continued to govern his people effectively, but only with the help and loyalty of Legolas and his devoted daughter-in-law and grandchildren. (Note: SotWK AU does NOT accept the coldness and rift between Legolas and Thranduil as shown in the film adaptation. Legolas ultimately proves to be Thranduil's most steadfast son. The conflict between Tauriel and Thranduil, and her romance with Legolas, do not occur in SotWK either.)

In TA 2850, when Gandalf uncovered Sauron's identity as the Necromancer--something Thranduil had suspected for centuries, but his reports went unheeded--the Elvenking slowly began to return to himself, remembering the hard battle that still needed to be fought to protect his kingdom.

In TA 2911, Thranduil even began to loosen the restrictions against traveling outside of Mirkwood, when he allowed Itarildë and Anariel to join Gandalf in giving aid to the Hobbits of the Shire during the Fell Winter, just as their family had done previously during the Long Winter (TA 2758).

By the time Thorin and his Company arrived at Mirkwood in TA 2941, the remnants of the royal house of Thranduil were back in fighting form, although the Elvenking would always carry a longing for his wife that would not be healed until their reunion in Aman over a century into the Fourth Age.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

#sotwk answers #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #legolas headcanon #elvenqueen #sotwk oc #sotwk headcanon #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #greenwood the great #tolkien #the hobbit #lotr

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istaricelebelasse · 23 days

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Arwen is less sure of herself. Less sure of her place in the world, more willing to doubt.

She listens to her family; to her father and brothers, to the one she would marry. They tell her to sail, to leave the shores of the only home she has ever known, to return to the mother she has not seen in centuries.

(Her grandmother says nothing. Galadriel cannot see the path her only granddaughter will take, but she is selfish enough to hope that they will not be forever parted.)

And if everyone is saying one thing is it difficult not to listen.

Difficult not to agree.

She sets a single foot into the boat and something tears inside her. Something solidifies just as something breaks.

She freezes, doubt taking hold. For a moment she thinks about turning back, about returning to her home and waiting for news of her love.

But those who travel with her are prepared. They distract her, bring her into the ship, and do not let her doubt.

It is only when they pass the Isle of Himling, when the last of the shore fades and Arwen knows that she is sailing over the once realms of her kin that the doubt truly takes force. That she finally changes her mind.

It is too late.

Sand as smooth as pearl and scattered with jewels awaits her. As beautiful and as final as her grandmother’s songs said.

A crowd waits for her on the docks. Family she has never met, family who were only legends and bedtime tales to her and her brothers.

(How many times had they played at being Finrod and the wolf? How many times had they played War of Wrath and fought over the roles of their grandparents?)

She greets her mother first. She tries not to resent just how relieved her mother is to see her.

She knows that Celebrian had feared that Sailing would mean never seeing any of her children again.

More family gather around her and it takes every single one of her grandfather’s lessons not to spit and snarl when they try to say how glad they are to see the Choice she made.

(Galadriel never taught her how to hide. She showed her how to slip a blade between ribs with a smile, how to weave enchantment and horror and hold herself as a Queen.)

And then Arwen sees her great grandfather, a mortal in a land of immortals, and something that was broken inside her starts to heal.

Tuor was allowed to sail, for love of an elf-maid, for deeds of valour, as a favour to the Valar.

And if Tuor was allowed to sail, what is to keep her Aragorn from sailing?

Arwen takes her grandmother’s lessons and begins to plot.

(For it was not only the Noldor tales which she had played as a child.)

#arwen undomiel #lotr #silm #tolkien #galadriel

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searchingforserendipity25 · 7 months

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@finweanladiesweek. day 4. finduilas & idril

finduilas was never going to get out of this story alive.

it is a hard lesson for a young maiden to learn, but on the burning shores of the sirion she learned it all through the long retreat. the smoke moved like a living creature, and the fire was nothing so much as garthour's will extended. the air smoked of blood, bone-ash, dying grass, groaning stones.

orodreth held the tower as long as he could, but his daughter was sent away with the first refugees. because the way to nargothrond was long and winding, and the pursuit relentless, finduilas' guards took many days to find shelter.

she looked backwards many times, over hill and crag, riding through the aspen country, ever-fearful. it was because she looked back that she saw them. fair and golden, vaster than even the songs had told, the great eagles of manwë crossed the very edge of the horizon.

finduilas' heart leapt, for a moment, high enough that she could taste her own hope. had improbable rescue not come before already to the noldor, at the time of greatest despair? had not the princes of her people been brought to salvation unlooked for? orodreth might live; her people might leave, the tower might be retaken, the crops sown once again, the rot sang out of the land --

the eagles crossed the very edge of the horizon. they took the high roads of the sky, where the wind was fiercest. their great wings cut the sick yellow of the smoke clouds like knifes. they flew past it, and did not look back.

this, then, was the doom of the noldor, as much as the great battlefields, the poisoning cold, the impossibly crowded barracks of melkor's thralls.

this: the rider clad in grey linens and black soot, the lady all lonesome on the crest of the hill. finduilas was never going to get out of this story alive; maidens who look back never do.

they waited as long as they could. the tower faced the sea, was built to enlarge its echoes. tuor could not sleep, now, without that song to lull him, and even his dreams were dark, damp, blue-lit.

silver found its way to his beard, the fur of his chest, the back of his clever hands; then his temples. some days he woke coughing, spitting out mouthfuls of salt.

they waited as long as they could: until idril said, enough. said: we with our backs to the sea are as the hare against the fence. said: i will have you dead of ancient age or a bad plague or morgoth's spears, but not this.

'no hope have we here; westwards i shall go, and make the speeches my father lent his mariners,' idril said.

she stood in the fullness of her height, hair braided for ruling, her bare hands upon the maps laid out on her great table. all the rings she owned were the ones she had worn on the feast that became gondolin's wake; all of them she had passed, one after another, to her son and her son's wife; to her vassals.

they stood also, the last lords of the white city. legolas pressed his palms together in prayer, rog was very still, dangerous contention barely at bay.

her husband looked at her, and the relief in his eyes was dearer to her than all the feasting and treasures lost to the balrogs and the dragons.

her son alone of all the gathered wept. but her son always wept a great deal. at times ulmondil's son seemed to his mother made up of water as much as flesh. for him too idril built the ship, and for the sake of young elwing's fledgling queenship.

tuor embraced all his friends; idril blessed all her servants. their son sang over the tiller, and elwing raised high the farewell pennants.

they went west. the west would not have them.

adrift, their vessel wandered from strange island to strange island. foul fogs trapped them; ossë's whims overtook them, his queer jealousy of ulmo's friends won over only over many a swell and many a quest. becalming days kept them trapped for fortnights with no wind to stir the sails.

and none of it mattered, none of it - for tuor's voice sang salt out of the water, tuor's webs caught fish often, tuor slept well on the berth under the stars, tuor's cough grew even and faded.

tuor's silver hairs shone under the pitiless sun, marvelous to idril's eyes, wondrous under her hands; petulant ossë dragged their ship away from the doldrums whenever they started to enjoy each other's closeness too much, spraying them for their laughter.

longing wounded sharply, fear clogged the hours of uncertain charting. the sea was their friend; but the sea was not an easy friend to have, not constant in its mood or reliable in its boons.

they traded stories, sang together, crafted little things to gift each other, engraved the walls of their cabins and the pantry and the mast, too: chased each other like trapped cats, at times, imprisoned together without relief. old griefs rose; harsh words caught the edge of the wind and cut close to the skin.

it was never long, before they reconciled; but it was never simple to sit down, hold a hand, weep for the pain they shared and the children left behind, their maddening odyssey and its mad estel.

all the same. tuor grew old, not ill. away from shore, caught between worlds, idril did laugh: at night, when the rigging was set, and there were new sun-spots to count on tuor's cheeks, idril did not think of gondolin.

westwards, always. their course was set to hope most necessary, hope most dire, hope unanswered. in urgency they had sought to evade grief and disaster from their kin, and grief and disaster came, on swords raised by their own kin.

idril and tuor know this not. none can say where they sail still; but ëarendil in his far journeys to give guidance to lost sailors peers often downwards into the wide sea, seeking for a glimmer of fair braids, an old man's silver head.

#finweanladiesweek #finduilas #orodreth #idril #tuor #my fics #the silm #the house of finwe #earendil

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imakemywings · 1 month

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Pressing on to the Children of Hurin novel, and highlighting some more favorite quotes:

"Ever in the forefront of that battle went Gwindor and the folk of Nargothrond, and even now they could not be restrained; and they burst through the outer gates and slew the guards within the very courts of Angband; and Morgoth trembled upon his deep throne, hearing them beat upon his doors." (The Battle of Unnumbered Tears)

FUCK YES. Gwindor sure does suffer for his impulsivity but before that he made Melkor quake in his fucking boots hearing the troops of Nargothrond at his door. I think it's key to Melkor's characterization to remember that he is, at heart, a massive fucking coward. Any time the odds are not firmly in his favor he gets flighty, as when he wants to refuse Fingolfin's challenge, and here, and in how he refuses to come forth from Angband but sends his troops out instead and directs them from his fortress only.

"In the morning came hope, for the horns of Turgon were heard, as he marched up with the main host of Gondolin; for Turgon had been stationed southward guarding the passes of Sirion, and he had restrained most of his folk from the rash onslaught."

Just interesting that the Gondolindrim alone are singled out as having been held back from Gwindor's early charge.

"Now the phalanx of the guard of the King broke through the ranks of the Orcs, and Turgon hewed his way to the side of his brother. And it is said that the meeting of Turgon with Hurin who stood beside Fingon was glad in the midst of the battle."

Everything's about to go to shit but at least Turgon and Hurin get to have a little reunion + the last moments Turgon will ever speak with Fingon :')

"'Not long now can Gondolin remain hidden, and being discovered it must fall,' said Turgon. 'Yet if it stands only a little while,' said Huor, 'then out of your house shall come the hope of Elves and Men. This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death: though we part here for ever, and I shall not look on your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise. Farewell!' Maeglin, Turgon's sister-son, who stood by, heard these words and did not forget them.

This whole exchange is sooo interesting..foresight moment for Huor? Maeglin guessing Huor refers to Turgon's grandchild (with the implication they will be half-Man)?

"Great was the triumph of Morgoth, though all the purposes of his malice were not yet accomplished. One thought troubled him deeply and marred his victory with unquiet: Turgon had escaped his net, of all his foes the one whom he had most desired to take or destroy."

Melkor's obsession with Turgon is always interesting and must be related to some foresight or foreboding on Melkor's part about Earendil and the role he'll play in Melkor's overthrow. It would seem odd to everyone else, I think, for Melkor's fixation to be not on Fingon, who was the high king going into the battle, but on his younger brother who no one's seen in years.

"For Turgon of the great House of Fingolfin was now by right King of all the Noldor; and Melkor feared and hated the House of Fingolfin, because they had scorned him in Valinor and had the friendship of Ulmo his foe; and because of the wounds that Fingolfin gave him in battle. And most of all Morgoth feared Turgon, for of old in Valinor his eye had lighted on him, and whenver he drew near a dark shadow had fallen on his spirit, foreboding that in some time that yet lay hidden in doom, from Turgon ruin should come to him."

What do we think Elf-friends, is the house of Fingolfin rejecting Melkor even in Valinor meant to stand in opposition to perhaps the house of Feanor's take? I do think it's interesting that nowhere in the Nirnaeth does Melkor seem especially interested in the Feanorians, except in how he can use them to effect his victory in this one battle.

Also, cackling at the idea of Melkor not wanting to hang around Turgon because his vibes are just too bad. Melkor saying "that dude has rancid vibes" like agjkjkgb

Ruin is coming you big loser.

"But when they bade Turin turn and look back upon the house of his father, then the anguish of parting smote him like a sword, and he cried: 'Morwen, Morwen, when shall I see you again?' But Morwen standing on her threshold heard the echo of that cry in the wooded hills, and she clutched the post of the door so that her fingers were torn." (The Departure of Turin)

This is one of those Morwen quotes that just lives with me. She's often blunt and cold with her son Turin and does not seem possessed of much loving maternal energy, and she pretty abruptly sends him away once she decides it's the best thing to do, but watching Turin ride away she grips the door frame so hard she tears skin on her fingers. Clearly, this is not someone unaffected by having to say goodbye to her child, nor someone unafraid about what may be coming for them. It's such a subtle but deep indication of how much Morwen actually feels vs. how little she shows.

And of course everything about Thingol's fostering of Turin:

"...and Thingol received them kindly, and set Turin upon his knee in honour of Hurin, mightiest of Men, and of Beren his kinsman. And those that saw this marvelled, for it was a sign that Thingol took Turin as his foster-son; and that was not at that time done by kings, nor ever again by Elf-lord to a Man. Then Thingol said to him: 'Here, son of Hurin, shall your home be; and in all your life you shall be held as my son, Man though you be. Wisdom shall be given you beyond the measure of mortal Men, and the weapons of Elves shall be set in your hands. Perhaps the time may come when you shall regain the lands of your father in Hithlum; but dwell now here in love.'"

The only time a Man was ever fostered by a lord of the Elves! Dwell now hear in love! You shall be held as my son! I'm going insane.

"Now Thingol had in Menegroth deep armouries filled with great wealth of weapons...Yet Thingol handled the Helm of Hador as though his hoard were scanty, and he spoke courteous words, saying 'Proud were the head that bore this helm, which the sires of Hurin bore.'"

Morwen sends the Helm to Thingol in response to his lavish gifts to her and invitation to come and join Turin in Doriath, but Thingol turns it immediately over to Turin and tells him Morwen sent it to Turin as a gift of the family heirlooms.

Especially in comparison with Silm where characters often feel more like sketches than people, the characterizations in CoH are so rich and deep it feels so much like these are real people. It has been such an interesting read so far, eager to get to more.

#children of hurin #the silmarillion #morwen #turin #thingol #turgon #melkor #tolkien tag #gwindor #fingon #huor

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nyxshadowhawk · 8 months

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I Read The Silmarillion So You Don't Have To, Part Four

Here are the previous parts:

https://nyxshadowhawk.tumblr.com/post/726120109073104896/i-read-the-silmarillion-so-you-dont-have-to-part

https://nyxshadowhawk.tumblr.com/post/726261927846772736/i-read-the-silmarillion-so-you-dont-have-to-part

https://nyxshadowhawk.tumblr.com/post/726476229805473792/i-read-the-silmarillion-so-you-dont-have-to-part

Chapter 7: Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor In which the peace is disturbed by conspiracy theories and shiny objects.

Fëanor decides to preserve the light of the Two Trees of Valinor… you know, in case anything ever happens to them. Somehow, using all of his knowledge and power and craftsmanship, he captures their light and uses it to create THE SILMARILS! The Silmarils are the biggest, brightest, and most beautiful gemstones in the history of Elfkind. No one but Fëanor knows what they’re made of (and at this point in time, he isn’t exactly in a position to tell anyone), but they look like diamonds and are completely unbreakable. Just as the bodies of the Children of Ilúvatar are shells for the soul, the crystal that composes the Silmarils is a shell for the light of the Two Trees — literally, the stones are actually alive. They are like three stars.

Silmarils of Fëanor by Nikulina-Helena

Side note — this isn’t technically in the text of The Silmarillion, it’s from Unfinished Tales, but I have to mention it because it’s hilarious — Fëanor got the idea to preserve the light of the Trees because Galadriel wouldn’t give him her hair. Here’s the relevant part of Unfinished Tales:

Even among the Eldar she was accounted beautiful, and her hair was held a marvel unmatched. It was golden like the hair of her father and of her foremother Indis, but richer and more radiant, for its gold was touched by some memory of the starlike silver of her mother; and the Eldar said that the light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion, had been snared in her tresses. Many thought that this saying first gave to Fëanor the thought of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees that later took shape in his hands as the Silmarils. For Fëanor beheld the hair of Galadriel with wonder and delight. He begged three times for a tress, but Galadriel would not give him even one hair. These two kinsfolk, the greatest of the Eldar of Valinor, were unfriends for ever. […] there dwelt in her the noble and generous spirit of the Vanyar, and a reverence for the Valar that she could not forget. From her earliest years she had a marvellous gift of insight into the minds of others, but judged them with mercy and understanding, and she withheld her goodwill from none save only Fëanor. In him she perceived a darkness that she hated and feared, though she did not perceive that the shadow of the same evil had fallen upon the minds of all the Noldor, and upon her own.

So, just to reiterate: Galadriel is wise and benevolent and loves everyone except Fëanor, because Fëanor is just that much of an arrogant asshole. So when Fëanor asks her for her hair, she basically tells him where he can stick it, and he goes, “Well fine! I didn’t need your hair anyway! I’m going to make gems that are even prettier and shinier than your hair, and then everyone will be jealous!” And that is why it’s such a big deal that Galadriel grants Gimli’s much humbler request for her hair. Gimli may be a dwarf, but he’s actually a good person!

Anyway, everyone is impressed by the Silmarils, even the Valar themselves. Varda, the goddess of the stars, blessed them so that nothing evil could touch them.

Now, I already said that Melkor lusted for all the shiny things that the Noldor had dug up, so how do you think he reacted when he saw the Silmarils? Oh, you’d better believe he wanted those gems more than anything else in the world. He concocted an evil plan to sew as much discord between the Elves and the Valar as possible, and to destroy Fëanor in the process. Unfortunately, enough of the Elves start to listen to his rumors. They start to believe that the Valar brought them to Valinor to stop them from ruling kingdoms of their own. Melkor also told the Elves about the eventual coming of Men, which the Elves knew nothing about. Melkor didn’t know much about Men either, but it was enough to spread a conspiracy theory that Manwë was holding the Elves hostage in Valinor so that Men could take over the world, cheating the Elves out of their God-given inheritance. The Noldor start to want to go back East, to be free of the Valar’s influence so they can start building kingdoms of their own and establishing themselves before the Men come.

Fëanor especially is desperate to get out of Valinor, which is exactly what Melkor wanted, because this was all just a ploy to get the Silmarils. But Fëanor is just as obsessive about them, keeping them locked deep in his “horde” (as though he’s a dragon), except when he parades around wearing them during feasts. He doesn’t let anyone see them, except for his father and his sons. He’s already started to forget that the entire point of them was to preserve the light of the Trees of Valinor, and not just to glorify himself.

Fëanor by dakkun39

Melkor starts to zero in on his mark. He spreads a new lie that Fingolfin, Fëanor’s brother, was planning to supplant him as Finwë’s heir. And to Fingolfin, he says that Fëanor has always hated his half-brothers and plans to kick them out of the city of Tirion.

As the unrest brews, Melkor teaches the Noldor how to make weapons. Each family of Noldor believes that only they know about the weapons, and that none of the other families do. Meanwhile, Fëanor makes a secret forge to experiment with crafting weapons, so he and his family can have especially dangerous ones. Even Melkor didn’t know about that, that was all Fëanor. Mahtan, Fëanor’s father-in-law, bitterly regretted having taught him anything about metalwork.

Fëanor openly calls for revolution against the Valar, and escaping back East. That crosses a line. Finwë holds court and asks his lords what he should do. Fingolfin asks him, “Why are you letting Fëanor call all the shots? He’s not King. You’re the King. You tell him to stop!” Fëanor promptly bursts through the doors and struts up to the podium, armed to the teeth. He draws his sword on Fingolfin and tells him to fuck off. Fingolfin hastily bows to Finwë and gets the hell out of there before his own brother murders him on the house floor. Fëanor follows him and starts taunting him. Fingolfin has the good sense not to respond.

By Jenny Dolfen

Now the Valar get involved. They were sad about the Noldor wanting to leave, but whatever Melkor might say, the Valar weren’t about to keep them there against their will. This, though? This is a step too far. They summon Fëanor to stand trial before them. During the trial, it’s finally revealed that Melkor, not Fëanor, is ultimately to blame for all the unrest. Tulkas doesn’t even wait for the trial to be over to go and put Melkor’s lights out. Meanwhile Mandos (the god of death/purgatory) delivers his judgement on Fëanor: “If you’re our ‘thralls,’ then I hate to break this to you, but Manwë is the king of all of Arda, not just Valinor. So… going back East isn’t going to help you very much. Threatening to kill your brother is still a crime whether here or in Middle-earth, so I sentence you to exile from the city of Tirion for twelve years. Go and think about what you did! Then, after your time-out is over, if your family forgives you, we’ll let you back in.”

Fingolfin speaks up to say that he already forgives Fëanor, which is very charitable of him. But Fëanor just sulks and stalks off. Honestly, he’s had it easy — he hasn’t even been asked to leave Valinor, only to leave the city! He leaves with his seven sons and founds his own fortress, Formenos, some distance from Tirion, where he hoards all his gems and weapons and other sparkly things (including the Silmarils). Finwë loves Fëanor so much that he leaves his own city to be with Fëanor, and Fingolfin becomes king of Tirion in his place. So, in the end, Melkor’s lie became a self-fulfilling prophecy: Fingolfin did become King of the Noldor instead of Fëanor, not because of any treachery on his part, but because of Fëanor’s shitty behavior. Nice going, Fëanor.

Melkor lays low for a while, disguised as a cloud. No one hears anything of him for a bit, but the Trees look slightly darker and the shadows slightly more ominous. Suddenly, he turns up on Fëanor’s doorstep and pretends to be friends, using the self-fulfilling prophecy to his advantage to make it sound like everything he’s said so far is true. Melkor offers to help Fëanor leave Valinor. Fëanor still thinks that Melkor is kind of sus, but Melkor gets to him by mentioning the Silmarils, and how they won’t be safe as long as Fëanor stays in Valinor. Unfortunately for Melkor, he showed his hand too soon. Fëanor finally sees that the Silmarils are what Melkor’s really been after this whole time. He screams the equivalent of “Get the fuck out of my house!” and slams the door in the face of what is technically the most powerful being on Arda. Melkor runs off with his tail between his legs, but Finwë recognizes that this isn’t over, and calls for Manwë’s help. Manwë and the other Valar chase Melkor to the edge of Valinor, and everything is suddenly fine for a while… the Trees are bright again, and Melkor is nowhere to be seen, but not knowing where he is might actually be worse. The people of Valinor can feel him lurking on the edge of the horizon.

Fëanor and Silmarils by breath-art

Chapter 8: Of the Darkening of Valinor In which everything goes to hell.

The Valar assume that Melkor returned to his old fortress in the north, but they didn’t find him there. Instead, Melkor shapeshifted and slunk southwards, to a shadowy land called Avathar. He was going to visit… an old friend, shall we say.

If you think Shelob is bad, you haven’t met her mother.

By John Howe

Ungoliant isn’t just a spider, she’s an eldritch abomination that happens to take the form of a spider. Even the Valar don’t really know where she came from, and she managed to escape them by hiding in the south where they weren’t turning their attention. She weaves webs that suck in all the light around them. Melkor takes the form of a tall Dark Lord and tells Ungoliant that he will feed her whatever she wants in exchange for her help in conquering Valinor (although at this point, you should already know that when Melkor promises anything, it’s with his fingers crossed behind his back). Ungoliant agrees, and they decide to attack while the people of Valinor are celebrating a harvest festival. Because whenever anysort of disaster happens, it’s when everyone is unsuspectingly having a party.

Fëanor sulkily attends the festival, only because Manwë literally ordered him to be there, but the other elves of his household (including Finwë) don’t show up. Fëanor also deliberately underdresses for the party; instead of parading around with the Silmarils like he used to, he decided that the Valar didn’t deserve to see them, and kept them locked up in his castle. Fëanor reconciles with his half-brother Fingolfin right in front of Manwë’s throne, and may even have been sincere! The Trees shine with a perfect blend of silver and gold… for the last time.

The poor Elves and the Valar barely have time to react. Melkor leaps on top of the sacred mound and strikes each Tree through with his spear, and Ungoliant drinks up all the sap that gushes out of them like blood, and they quickly wither and die. Then Ungoliant drinks up all the well water, and she looks so huge and bloated that even Melkor is afraid of her.

And… that’s it. Just like that, it’s over. The Trees are dead. The resulting darkness is almost a palpable thing that can attack the body and soul. The Valar and all the Elves gathered in Manwë’s palace are thunderstruck as the lights suddenly go out, and then, they hear the screams of the Teleri, who have had nothing to do with this whole mess and had no idea that there was any unrest in Valinor to begin with. You know what I’m reminded of? That scene in The Prince of Egypt when God kills the firstborn of every Egyptian household, and there’s a shot of Orion, a beat of silence, and then a wail of grief and despair goes up.

Manwë sends the Valar to chase after Melkor, but they can’t penetrate Ungoliant’s cloud of darkness, and it’s too late. The damage was done.

By Titita

Chapter 9: Of the Flight of the Noldor In which the Valar have finally had enough of Fëanor’s bullshit.

Valinor is left in shock. Yavanna tries in vain to heal the Trees, but they are dead, and there’s nothing she can do… unless she had a little of the light of the Trees, which Fëanor fortunately preserved in the Silmarils. Manwë asks Fëanor if he will give Yavanna a Silmaril. Fëanor whines that just as the Trees were Yavanna’s masterpiece, the Silmarils are his masterpiece, and if he breaks any one of them, he’ll be the first of the Elves to die. Mandos mutters that he wouldn’t be the first, since his mother Míriel died, but no one takes his meaning.

Fëanor goes off to sulk, and remembers what Melkor said: that the Valar want the Silmarils, and will do anything to get them. Now they’re asking him to give them one. Fëanor concludes that because Melkor, a Vala, is such a shitty person, then all the other Valar must be the same. He tells the Valar that he will not give them a Silmaril, and that if they try to take one from him by force, then that will prove that they really are just as bad as Melkor.

That’s that, then. Because Fëanor is such a selfish asshole, the Trees are not healed, and there’s nothing left to do but to mourn. Nienna, the goddess of sorrow, stands on top of the mound where the Trees used to be and laments the scarring of Arda, letting her tears wash away the destruction caused by Ungoliant and Melkor.

Then Elves from Formenos, Fëanor’s fortress, arrive to tell the Valar about another of Melkor’s crimes: He broke into Formenos, murdered Finwë, and stole everything that was in Fëanor’s treasure horde. The Silmarils are gone. Fëanor is enraged, firstly because the Silmarils are gone, secondly because he was at Manwë’s stupid party instead of defending his castle, and thirdly because his beloved father is dead. This is when he first calls Melkor by the name Morgoth (which is what he’ll be called for the rest of the Silmarillion).

History might have been different if Fëanor had originally said yes to Yavanna’s request, before learning that Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils. We can’t know.

Meanwhile Morgoth and Ungoliant take the long way back to Middle-earth. Morgoth hopes to eventually escape from Ungoliant, because even he’s afraid of her, but she catches on. She tells Morgoth that she’s still hungry, and she wants to eat all the treasure he stole from Formenos. So Morgoth, begrudgingly, feeds her all of Fëanor’s beautiful gemstones. All but three, that is. The Silmarils literally burn Morgoth’s hand, because Varda made them evil-proof, but he grips them tightly and refuses to give them to her. He’s a lot weaker than he should be because he lent Ungoliant so much of his power, and she weaves a web of darkness to strangle him. Melkor screams so loud that his screaming can still be heard in that region to this day. Deep beneath the ruins of Angband, the Balrogs still lurked, and when they heard their Lord cry for help, they came to save him. Let’s just reiterate that: Ungoliant is so evil that Morgoth, who’s like Sauron but worse, needed Balrogs to save him from her.

By Sheppi-Arthouse

Ungoliant fled, and lurked for some time in a dark valley where she mated with other spider-creatures and ate their heads. No one knows what happened to her after that. She might still be out there, but one legend says that eventually, in her eternal hunger, she ate herself.

Morgoth rebuilds Angband, amasses his armies of Balrogs and Orcs, and gives himself the modest title of “King of the World.” He forges himself an iron crown and sets the three Silmarils in it. But his hands are permanently burned by having held them, and he can never take off the crown. He stews in his hatred, and vents his humiliation at the eight spidery legs of Ungoliant by abusing his minions. Despite how pathetic that near-defeat was, Melkor is still technically a Vala, and is so terrifying in his majesty that no one can even be near him without being consumed by fear.

By NeexSethe

Back in Valinor, everyone is depressed. Then Fëanor shows up and gives a rousing speech to the Noldor, mostly condemning Morgoth, but also repeating all of the lies that Morgoth had spread about the Valar. Fëanor declares himself King of the Noldor since his father is dead (which isn’t anything like what Morgoth just did), and persuades the Noldor that they shouldn’t live under the Valar’s rule anymore. After all, the Valar failed to keep out Morgoth, and they’re related to him so they must be partly to blame for his actions. Fëanor doesn’t want to be anywhere near the distant cousins of the guy who killed his father. Also, look at the greener grass back in Middle-earth where the Noldor can build an empire for themselves! They can become a warlike people, and conquer Middle-earth before the Men come! Fëanor throws some racial supremacy into the mix and says that once the Noldor have waged war on Morgoth and taken back the Silmarils, they alone will be the lords of the last remaining Light.

Then Fëanor and his sons draw their swords and swear an oath that they will hunt to the ends of the earth any creature — Vala, Demon, Elf, or Man — who possesses a Silmaril.

By Jenny Dolfen

Despite having just disavowed the Valar, this oath is still sworn with the gods and their sacred mountain as witnesses, so… old religious habits die hard.

Immediately, unrest erupts among the Noldor. Fingolfin and his son Turgon are horrified, Finarfin (Fëanor’s other brother) tries to calm everything down, and Galadriel (the only woman there) likes the idea of seeing Middle-earth and ruling a realm of her own. Fëanor’s side of the debate eventually wins, and the Noldor depart for Middle-earth. Fëanor hurries them out of there before they have the chance to change their minds.

Of course, the remaining problem is that Fëanor can’t simply declare himself king so easily. Fingolfin has been King of the Noldor ever since Fëanor was exiled from the city, and most of the Noldor are still loyal to him. He’s also level-headed and kind, whereas Fëanor is a hot mess. Fingolfin doesn’t want to leave Valinor, but accepts that he doesn’t have much of a choice, because he doesn’t want to abandon his people. Also, his son Fingon is urging him to go. Finarfin is even less willing to leave, but follows Fingolfin anyway for similar reasons.

By BellaBergolts

As the Noldor are leaving, a messenger arrives from Manwë. He says that the Valar won’t prevent the Noldor from leaving, since the Elves are free to do whatever they want, but that the Valar strongly advise against it. But Fëanor and his family are explicitly exiled from Valinor, on account of their oath. The messenger emphasizes that Fëanor is right — Melkor is a Vala —which is exactly why Fëanor and co. stand no chance against him or against any of the other Valar. So, the oath is impossible to fulfill. That sucks, because oaths are serious business, and once you’ve made an oath, you can’t simply disregard it. Fëanor has basically condemned himself and all of his sons to an impossible, borderline-blasphemous and utterly hubristic venture. Nice going, Fëanor.

Of course, Fëanor gives a typical arrogant response, urging the Noldor not to send their king into exile and “return to bondage.” He says to the messenger, “Go tell Manwë that even if I can’t beat Morgoth, at least I’m gonna try, instead of sitting on my sorry ass and grieving! My battle with Morgoth is gonna be so legendary that one day the Valar will realize I was right!” Fëanor is so intimidating that even the messenger of Manwë bows to him in response. And so, the Noldor leave into exile — some boldly and without looking back, some very reluctantly.

They quickly run into the first big problem: How do they get to Middle-earth? Fëanor first tries to follow Melkor and go north, to cross the narrow strip of land that connects the two continents. But realistically, there’s no way that an entire nation’s worth of people are going to cover that distance. The other option is to cross the sea itself, but the only way to do that is with ships, and the Noldor don’t know how to build them. Fëanor decides to persuade the Teleri to join his company, which would get them the ships they need — and spitefully, Fëanor hopes to further dismantle Valinor and gain himself more soldiers for his war against Morgoth.

The Teleri are sad that their friends are leaving, and completely unwilling to lend them any ships or go against the will of the Valar. Olwë, the King of the Teleri, never heard any of Morgoth’s conspiracy theories, so everything Fëanor says sounds completely insane. You can imagine how well that went over with Fëanor. He’s like, “You owe us because we helped you build your city! You stragglers would still be living in mud huts if it weren’t for us!” Olwë points out that friends don’t let friends make such stupid decisions, that the plan was to live together in Valinor forever, and that the Noldor didn’t teach the Teleri shipbuilding. They learned to build ships on their own, directly from the sea gods, and don’t owe the Noldor anything. The Teleri feel the same way about their ships as Fëanor does about his jewels — they’re unique masterpieces, and can never be replicated.

Fëanor doesn’t take no for an answer, and tries to take the ships by force. The Teleri fight back. What follows is the first large-scale battle between Elves. It’s brutal and sad — there’s deaths on both sides, but the Noldor win and steal the precious ships away. (Don’t ask me how the Noldor know how to sail the ships — sailing isn’t exactly a skill that one can just pick up.) Olwë calls upon Ossë, the Maia of the Waves, but he doesn’t come, because the Valar swore to neither help nor hinder the Noldor’s departure. But Uinen, the Maia of sea life, is so distraught over the cruel deaths of the Teleri mariners that she wrecks several of the ships.

By Ted Nasmith

When the Noldor reach the shore, a dark figure rises up from the cold mountains. Some say the figure was Mandos himself. He pronounces the “Prophecy of the North”: Anyone who’s studied pagan mythology knows that kinslaying is just about the worst thing you can do, so now all the Noldor are exiled, not just Fëanor and his sons. But Fëanor has well and truly brought down the wrath of the Valar upon his head. They’ve given him enough second chances. Now, his oath isn’t just useless — it’s actively a curse that will destroy his family, drive them to evil and treason, and keep the Silmarils forever just out of reach. After they die — and they will die, despite the immortality granted to them by Eru Ilúvatar — their souls will return to the Halls of Mandos as ghosts. The Noldor who don’t die will slowly diminish, and watch their own power fade as the other races gradually supplant them, leaving them with nothing but regret.

Mandos by marcelamedeiros_arts

Don’t let anyone tell you that Tolkien’s Elves are all perfect beings who are prettier, wiser, more magical, and otherwise superior to everyone else. The reason why all the Elves of the LotR fit that description is because only the wise Elves last that long. All the arrogant, hotheaded, and power-hungry Elves don’t make it to the Third Age because they’ve all killed each other by then.

Case in point, Fëanor responds to this imposing figure pronouncing the wrath of the gods with his typical arrogance, insisting that he and his family are not cowards and that treason is just another evil that they’ll have to deal with. And, as an extra “fuck you,” that everyone will sing of their deeds until the end of the world.

At that, Finarfin turns back. He never actually wanted to leave Valinor, he hates that the battle ruined his friendship with Olwë, and he’s deeply resentful towards the House of Fëanor for having caused this whole mess. He and his people receive the Valar’s forgiveness, and return to their beautiful city of Tirion. Finarfin rules over the Noldor that returned with him, but without his children, because they didn’t turn back. They wanted to stay with Fingolfin’s sons, Fingon and Turgon, and they aren’t the sort of people to abandon a task halfway, so they continue on.

Fëanor, Fingolfin, and the other Noldor reach the far north, where the continents of Aman and Middle-earth meet. They’re cold, hungry, and don’t know which way to go next. Some of the Elves are starting to catch on that Fëanor and his propaganda is the cause of all their trouble. Fëanor is already starting to fear treachery, so he takes his sons and all the ships, and straight-up abandons Fingolfin and his people to freeze to death. Fëanor becomes the first Noldor Elf to set foot on Middle-earth.

Maedhros, Fëanor’s eldest son, asks him if he’ll send any ships back for Fingolfin’s people (specifically Fingon). Fëanor laughs at his son, calls his brother and nephews and all their people “worthless baggage,” and then burns the ships. Maedhros just stands aside and lets him do it. (I’m guessing that the inability of Fëanor’s kids to stand up to their father is going to become a recurring source of conflict.) So, the curse has already come into effect.

The Burning of the Ships by Ted Nasmith

In spite of Fëanor, Fingolfin and his company pass through the icy wastes in the farthest north, and eventually reach Middle-earth, though they lost many along the way. The narrator tells us straight-up that few of the deeds of the Noldor will ever surpass that desperate crossing.

We're a quarter of the way through!

Next part: https://nyxshadowhawk.tumblr.com/post/738735962858897408/i-read-the-silmarillion-so-you-dont-have-to-part

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outofangband · 11 months

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I’m writing more of my series of healers notes of Maedhros post Angband but I wanted to share some thoughts first!

Elven and human healing practices and treatment of survivors post Angband are (as is probably obvious) some of my favorite topics to write about! As are medicinal plants but as always please feel free to ask more!

As this is for my post on Mithrim healers of the Noldor (with some Sindar allies, this focuses mainly on their practices but feel free to ask about any others for elves or other peoples!)

Healers from most cultures, elven, human and dwarven kept records of injuries and treatments. These were often written in an equivalent of shorthand in their languages and then later transcribed for preservation. Healers of nobility and in more prosperous communities might have their own scribes however

These records often include an extensive visual component. Among the Noldor, training in anatomical drawing and medical drawings is a highly revered skill. Some even travel, visiting healers throughout their regions to make illustrations for their records. Records among the Sindar also include visual elements, some of them are primarily visual especially in areas without a common language.

Pursuit and preservation of knowledge is especially valued by the Noldor though many elven cultures kept records of injuries and treatments for practical reasons; as a guide for future treatments

The Helcaraxë saw the first of their kind for many types of injuries among the returned Noldor and as soon as it was possible these were recorded. These and the injuries suffered in the first siege at Angband became the first tomes of Noldorin healers in Beleriand. My recent post on mobility aids goes into some early Noldor in Beleriand healing practices specifically with regard to limb damage and amputation!

Topics regarding Angband and former prisoners were certainly a sort of taboo throughout many cultures in Beleriand but records were still kept of the few survivors known to be treated by healers, this is partly why brands on Maedhros were recognized by some of the Northern Sindar who were in Mithrim.

Records of the treatment of Maedhros, of some treatment Gwindor received in Nargothrond for long term effects of starvation, exposure to noxious substances, and poorly healed breaks, as well as sparse other survivors who made it back to encampments and allowed treatment* become some important records regarding former prisoners in Angband. Though many are purely analytical and some contain obvious bias, some contain vital compassion and humanization of these

*many former prisoners never allowed themselves to be examined for a variety of reasons

#the silmarillion #maedhros #noldor #sindar #hithlum #mithrim #musing and meta #post Angband #beleriand #but ever the noldor feared

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dwarrowdelf · 2 months

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o my brother

Seven drabbles for @maedhrosmaglorweek which I’m definitely not two entire weeks late for 😅 You can also read them on AO3 with any relevant author’s notes, but I’m posting them there in batches.

one: childhood/growing up

Of the brothers, Maedhros and Maglor were closest in age. They spent nearly their entire childhoods as a family of four, roaming the cultivated wildlands of Aman. Tirion upheld them as darlings, once the crown prince returned to the city: bright-haired, quick-witted Maitimo and sweet-voiced, silver-tongued Macalaurë, ever together. Two shining jewels to adorn any debate parlor, concert hall, or royal party. There were the other brilliant princes, and of course the beloved princesses, but the eldest house was ever the most brilliant and most beloved by the Noldor, in the days before Morgoth spread his discord to peaceful Valinor.

two: the oath

Maglor had not, as many suspected in later years, helped to craft the oath. Fëanor was a great orator and wordsmith in his own right without his second son’s help.

Their father had stood in the square under the Mindon and spoken his oath fiercely and without forethought. And what a rousing oath it was! The younger sons had been quick to follow. Maglor had looked to Maedhros and found him already looking back. Neither of them had wanted to swear it, but they had agreed, with that look, not to abandon their little brothers.

Funny how that worked out.

three: the long peace

“I cannot believe the audacity of that boy!”

“‘That boy’ is the Lord of Nargothrond,” Maedhros says, amused.

Maglor whirls on him, finger pointed in a hilarious mirror of their mother at her most high tempered. “He’s our little shit of a cousin who abandoned us on a hunting trip that he planned and then found the Secondborn! Without us! No, don’t look at me in that tone of voice, I’m very cross!”

Maedhros’s tremulous hold on his expression cracks, and he breaks into laughter. Maglor smiles to himself, relieved to see the tension finally slipping from his brother’s shoulders.

four: nirnaeth arnoediad, reputation

Maedhros’s well-earned reputation precedes him. Orcs would sooner run than face him, fearsome as he is; even trolls and wargs are wary.

Maglor’s reputation precedes him too, carefully crafted. The kind brother, the soft brother, nevermind that softness alone could never hold the least defensible line of the leaguer. But it is good to be underestimated, good to let everyone forget that he was the one Maedhros trained against when relearning the sword.

That soft reputation is why Ulfang’s eyes are wide with shock in the head that Maglor cleaves from his body for the crime of betraying his brother.

five: change and loss of self

Being burnt by the Silmaril did not break Maglor as it broke his brother, though losing him nearly did. What broke Maglor, in the end, was realizing that the burn would never heal such that he could play any two-handed instrument again.

He contemplated, then, following in the footsteps of his brother or grandmother.

But many years ago, when Maedhros still could not leave his sickbed, they had picked apart the Oath. It seemed fit to kill them all, but they thought if just one of them lived, perhaps the rest might have a chance, however small.

So Maglor lives.

six: alienation and isolation, AUs and fix-its

Maglor dreams, sometimes: a voice telling him it is time to come home. His mother telling him not to stay out too late, his father calling that dinner is ready. Maedhros as he had been, slinging an arm around his shoulders and telling him he’s done enough and to stop hiding in his room before they all forget what he looks like.

Sometimes he wakes up after those dreams at dawn or dusk, and a red-orange sky tricks him a moment longer.

He confesses all of this to a stranger near Mithlond, and finds himself on a boat sailing West.

seven: fate

Maglor never came to the timeless halls, and Maedhros feared. The only tapestry he could find of his brother was a vast stretch of shore with one figure, alone, walking. Anyone who might have news, he asked.

Lost, faded, disappeared, they all said, some even with pity.

Maedhros reembodies last of his brothers, and there, there is Maglor. Maedhros folds himself without thought into supplication older than Valinor, begs forgiveness from the one he most wronged.

Two scarred hands deign to cradle his face. “There is no need. Only do not leave me again, I beg you.”

“Never,” Maedhros swears.

#maedhrosmaglorweek #mine #fic #silm #maedhros #maglor

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grey-gazania-fic · 4 months

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In the spirit of this joyous holiday season, may I present to you the stupidest thing I've ever written: Fingon the Grumpy Zombie

To the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer"

Fingon the grumpy zombie Had a very broken head And if you ever smelled him You’d know for sure that he’s undead.

All of the other Noldor Used to scream and run away Only his boyfriend Maedhros Ever was convinced to stay.

Then one sunny solstice day Gothmog came to say “Fingon with your skull so broke How is it you managed to uncroak?”

“Morgoth is very curious He has experiments he’d like to do But don’t worry, grumpy zombie Your boyfriend is invited too!”

But then our grumpy zombie Was filled with terrifying rage And fear that Morgoth once more Would stuff Maedhros into a cage.

“You wicked slave of darkness We will not fall prey to your schemes!” And then our zombie Fingon Pounded him to smithereens.

Then how the Noldor loved him Despite his really yucky smell “Fingon the grumpy zombie, Now we really think you’re swell!”

#the silmarillion #tolkien #silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #gothmog #russingon

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 months

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Silmarillion Daily - Of the Great Journey (Years of the Trees 1115)

The Great Journey of the Elves to Valinor begins in the year 1105 of the Ages of the Trees, 20 years after Oromë first meets the Elves and 5 years after the Valar defeat Melkor.

It is told that when the hosts of the Eldalië departed from Cuiviénen Oromë rode at their head upon Nahar, his white horse shod with gold; and passing northward about the Sea of Helcar they turned toward the west. Before them great clouds hung still black in the North above the ruins of war, and the stars in that region were hidden. Then not a few grew afraid and repented, and turned back, and are forgotten.

They’re not in a hurry, and are inclined to stop whenever Oromë isn’t there to chivvy them along; despite choosing the journey based on the advocacy of Ingwë, Finwë and Elwë, they’re still not sure about it, and are not enthusiastic about the idea of leaving Middle-earth. The world is still new to them, and they find the new places they stay beautuful, and prefer to stay there.

Long and slow was the march of the Eldar into the west, for the leagues of Middle-earth were uncounted, and weary and pathless. Nor did the Eldar desire to hasten, for they were filled with wonder at all that they saw, and by many lands and rivers they wished to abide; and though all were yet willing to wander, many feared rather their journey’s end than hoped for it. Therefore whenever Oromë departed, having at time other matters to heed, they halted and went forward no more, until he returned to guide them.

It takes the Elves 10 years to reach the lands that we’re familar with from The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings: Greenwood the Great, the River Anduin, and the Misty Mountains.

And it came to pass after many years of journeying in this manner that the Eldar took their course through a forest, and they came to a great river, wider than any they had yet seen; and beyond it were mountains whose sharp horns seemed to pierce the realm of the stars. This river, it is said, was even the river which was after called Anduin the Great, and was ever the frontier of the west-lands of Middle-earth. But the mountains were the Hithaeglir, the Towers of Mist upon the borders of Eriador; yet they were taller and more terrible in those days, and were reared by Melkor to hinder the riding of Oromë.

Some of the Teleri decide they like this area, and between that and being intimidated by the Misty Mountains, they decide they would prefer to live here than continue on to Valinor. These are presumably the ancestors of the Wood-elves of Greenwood (later Mirkwood) and of the original elves of Lothlórien, and are distant (or not-so-distant, given the long lives of Elves) relations of Thranduil, Celeborn, Galadriel, and the Sindar who later join them there.

Now the Teleri abode long on the east bank of the river and wished to remain there, but the Vanyar and the Noldor passed over it, and Oromë led them into the passes of the mountains. And when Oromë was gone forward the Teleri looked upon the shadowy heights and were afraid.

Then one arose in the host of Olwë, which was ever the hindmost on the road; Lenwë he was called. He forsook the westward march, and led away a numerous people, southwards down the great river, and they passed out of the knowledge of their kin until long years were past. Those were the Nandor; and they became a people apart, unlike their kin, save that they loved water, and dwelt most beside falls and running streams. Greater knowledge had they of living things, tree and herb, bird and beast, than all other Elves.

This reminds me of a lot of good stuff in The Nature of Middle-earth about the Great Journey, and the Teleri in particular. The Teleri have a less centralized ethos than the Vanyar or Noldor, and it’s Elwë (later Thingol) who stands up for the rights of all elves to choose what they prefer in terms of the journey, and not feel compelled to all act as a single unit. It’s also him who expresses the idea of the Great Journey as a way to see other parts of Middle-earth and decide where they want to live, not necessarily continuing on to Valinor. This lines up with the later patterns of different groups of Telerin elves (Nandor, Sindar, Falathrim, the Teleri who continue to Valinor, and later the Green-elves of Ossiriand) branching off in a variety of directions.

Elwë says, “I will go with my friend [Finwë], but I do not choose for anyone but myself. Let all my Folk do likewise. I do not see what harm dividing the Kindred will do - and it cannot be avoided, unless some are to be forced to do what they do not wish to do (to remain or to go). No doubt (indeed this is guaranteed) we, or any who wish, will be free to return to our homes when the War is over.” Also he says, “We are a great company - the most give n to wandering afar. Let many of us at least go with the safe conduct of the Lord Oromë and see what Endor is like, and the Sea! We need not pass the shores!”

One thing that strikes me from this is the surprising commonalities between Elwë and Fëanor. In the first place, in the attachment to Middle-earth and the desire to explore its ‘wide lands’ - Thingol in NoME, in contrast to the Silm, prefers the starlight of Middle-earth to the Trees of Valinor, and his choice of Valinor at this moment is based on his friendship with Finwë rather than on the appeal of Valinor itself. In the second place, in the emphasis that if the Elves do go to Valinor, they need to be able to return to their homes if they later choose that. The contrast, though, is that Elwë is all about everyone making a free choice of what they want to do, whereas Fëanor (at least by the time he’s wanting to return to Middle-earth) becomes hostile, angry, and insulting to anyone who does not adhere to all his ideas.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #silmarillion daily #elves #thingol #feanor #nandor #teleri

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lamemaster · 11 months

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Terms of Loving You

Pairing: Maedhros x Teleri Reader

Genre: angst

word count: 2.9k

Chapter 2

Summary: You lift your hands with great effort to tug at the slightly crooked ruby hairpin that sits heavily on your head, entangled by the silver locks surrounding it. It was a claim, to ward off others who seek you, to make you known as Nelyafinwe’s.

AN: I wrote this a long time ago so I tried my best to make it less cringe. I have a few headcannons about this fic so if you guys would like more lmk. (Dividers by @cafekitsune, they are amazing!)

You carefully put your spoon back on the table and stand up in a fluid motion. "High King, forgive me for the interruption, but letting go of my art for the sake of my affection for your grandson is not something I am willing to do," you say, addressing the whole table. The Noldor, known to be a prideful bunch, glare at you as if you've wandered into their territory. You turn to Maitimo, sitting next to you, avoiding eye contact.

"Then do you not value the love of my grandson? Does your love run so shallow as to be left for the pleasure of the mind?" Finwe's cold and loud voice rings in the room.

You stand still, discreetly stealing a look at your lover. There is a glimmer of hope in his gaze. "Is it not for my art that you fell in love with me, Nelyo? I hold it close to my heart, for it is the reason for our relationship, my love. It is a part of me, and dropping it to become the perfect wife for you would be a lie," you whisper softly, your voice trembling with fear of his answer. The conversation with the high king has transformed into one with Maitimo.

The grandest hall of Valinor feels like a prison cell at that moment. Suddenly, King Finwe's deep voice fills the room again, "Do answer me when I ask the question, princess! It is not becoming of royal women of the Noldor to dance or sing amongst the common folk of our subjects. Our norms are very different from the Telerin court. You must learn from your elder sister, Earwen, who now perfectly handles the role of a Noldor princess."

Your eyes wander from Maitimo to your sister sitting at the front of the table, next to her husband, Arafinwe, the third prince of the Noldor. Their eyes show panic, looking between you and the king. Arafinwe seems ready to stand up at any moment, whether to defend Earwen or to defend you is unknown to you.

Then you look at Feanor, Maitimo's father, and the ever-present light in his eyes shines brightly at that moment, as if challenging you to speak and make a mistake. You avert your gaze from Feanor to spare yourself from whatever he wants from you. The High King of the Noldor seems ignorant of all others in the room; his eyes pierce you as you stand there, flexing your hand. His face is red with rage, or perhaps the room has suddenly shrunk into darkness. In that room where people stare at you like a relic, Maitimo never looks at you. He never takes your hand to hold your trembling fingers.

"Maitimo, is the idea of a Telerin wife who does not sing or dance to any song agreeable to you? I respect the High King; however, no one in this room matters more than you, so please tell me," you say with a hint of desperation in your voice. A silent void engulfs your questions in the room. The irritation in your eyes suddenly feels like tears that you were previously unaware of. "Y/n… just sit down… don't," Maitimo's voice murmurs in the void.

"Alas, Princess, you know what my dearest grandson seeks from you. Now I hope we can continue this dinner, and soon I can share another celebratory drink with my dearest friend Olwe, your father," Finwe's words hold a certainty. His joy is ignorant of the inner turmoil of the people in question.

You suddenly feel trapped in a land so far away from your home by the sea. You miss your parents, siblings, and the simplicity of Teleri. At this moment, the Noldorian society seems to be a shattered mirror of all the grandiose they project.

You lift your hands with great effort to tug at the slightly crooked ruby hairpin that sits heavily on your head, entangled by the silver locks surrounding it. It was a claim, to ward off others who seek you, to make you known as Nelyafinwe’s. He had forged it. The first son of Feanor was not an excellent smith like his father.

The pin may not be fit for a princess, but it is precious to you, and you have worn it from the day it became yours. You harshly pluck the pin, ripping some strands of your hair. You don't know where the strength comes from, but you manage to take off the accursed brand that poses to take parts of you away. You clutch the pin so hard in your hands that it leaves indents on your hand. Even after all that, Nelyafinwe left his mark on you.

This commotion leads to noise at the table coming to a stop. Maitimo now looks at your hand that dangerously clutches the pin. He sits tense, ready to stop you from any harm that comes your way or the others. In his mind, he wonders if his lover will attack his grandfather with the hairpin.

"What is…" Finwe starts to speak, but you, in your surprisingly stable voice, overshadow his confusion. "If it is one between myself and my love for your grandson I must choose, then I choose myself. I cannot love someone who cannot love me to the core of who I am. I have given everything of myself in this relationship, and my art is not excluded from that." Maitimo jerks to finally look at you, who still holds the ruby hairpin. His eyes have a hysterical look just as he is about to speak when you take his hand and hand him his first courting gift.

The pin carries the warmth of your hand and the distant scent of the sea that you carry with you always. He sits there with the pin in his hand when you address him. "Prince Nelyafinwe, I return the gift that you gave me. Over the last twelve years, I have loved you with all my being. However… it seems you have not come to do the same. To save us both from the pain, I step back. Forgive me; I cannot give you what you yearn for, my prince." You straighten your back; Maitimo looks lost, unable to understand the words of his beloved.

Your eyes harden as you look at the room full of gasping Noldor, except for Feanor, who looks amused by the situation. Maitimo suspects that his father has something brewing in his cunning mind. "I, daughter of the high king of the Teleri, King Olwe, ask for you to leave, Your Majesty, the High King of the Noldor. Forgive me for my transgressions, for tonight has left me with a lot to think about." You bow and leave from the nearest door as if parched for fresh air after staying too long in the godforsaken hall.

"I'll escort the princess back to Alqualonde," Arafinwe jumps from his seat and rushes out with a blur of his blonde hair.

The shores of Alqualonde have never witnessed quiet with the prince and princesses lingering there, radiating the joy of youth. However, lately, it seems that the beaches have been cursed with a gloomy longing. The elves of old, who have traveled by sea to come to Valinor, feel a sudden longing for the shores of Cuvien, where they first woke up in Arda.

Olwe notices this change in his people and his household. Things have quieted down after Earwen's marriage, leaving a void in their hearts, but the rest of his children have kept the days merry with their presence. This is different from a sad farewell; this is a dismissal of lingering hope. In his mind, he suspects that this is you, his youngest. You are the one to frequent the shores most with your siblings or without them. The princess is nowhere in the palace, so her father decides to stroll to the shores to investigate this sudden sulking. Olwe chuckles, remembering the antics of his children in their childhood. His flowing white robes delicately draw behind him, untouched by the sand of the shore.

After wandering for some time, he finds you sitting on a jagged rock right by the sea. It is said that elven parents make children from a part of their fea, and they share a deep bond. This bond allows them to gauge their ward's emotions to some extent. At that time, Olwe feels such a strong sense of despair from his daughter that he sucks a sharp breath. In the deepest part of his mind, he has suspected that this has something to do with your visit to your sister in Tirion.

So, the High King of the Teleri slowly approaches his daughter, troubled by her troubles, as is the way of all parents. "Yonya, what atrocity has the sea whispered to you, for you to look so offended by it?" he carefully and as gracefully as he can with the long customary robes of the king, sits crossed-legged next to his daughter to settle on the jagged rock that is nowhere near comfortable.

"Attyo!! You scared me. I almost fell into the water, and that would really offend me," you turn to smile at your father. The High King of Teleri does not care for the pretentious display of grace and holier-than-thou art attitude. His people love him for that.

The High King smiles back at his ward. "Now tell me, yonya, what can this old elf do for you? Tell me your pains, and I shall make sure no one ever dares to offend the cherished Princess of Teleri." He hadn't meant to sound so carefree or jesting, but he is rarely sour of mood, and the High King of Teleri wants you to share anything with him on your own time, so he gives you a way out. His daughter wonders for a long time. A thoughtful silence is not what you are known for, and he grows slightly worried about the depth of the situation but maintains a peaceful smile.

"Atta, have you heard the new story that the bard recently told in one of the inns of our city?" Olwe shakes his head, he knows what route his daughter has chosen, and he is ready to give her what she wants. "Tell me about it, " You look at him and then continue looking towards the sea, as if afraid to give away more than you want. "The bard sang of a love story. Some unknown elleth fell in love with an ellon, who was in love with her too. They loved each other, but the elleth was denied her affections…" you pause, collecting your voice. Olwe contains himself from hugging you and easing the heartbreak you carry. Instead, he lets you continue.

"The ellon's family disapproved of their love, for the elleth was fond of writing stories and often poured her passion into the poems that the bards loved. The elleth considered her creations to be a part of her fea; they held immense value to her. The ellon did not stand up for his lover, and the elleth was too prideful to give up on her dream. Their courtship ended in a miserable fight, and they lived life longing for a love that could have been something amazing." You lean on your father's shoulder as if hiding away from the confrontation that you have laid bare in front of the ever-wise ocean.

Olwe holds his daughter tightly as he feels slight tremors in your shoulders accompanied by a wet patch on the shoulder of his robe. Still, he remains silent for you to finish speaking. "It is… is so tragic, atta, that it must end this way. So unfair… so… cruel of fate to the lovers."

The High King of Teleri knows his daughter has told him the truth about whatever is the cause of her sorrow. In the long years of raising his children, he has never hindered their interests. He has never let them be conformed to royal etiquette.

You love dancing, and it may seem obnoxious for a princess to dance, but the Teleri care not for such customs. The king is deeply wounded by the pain that his daughter suffers and will carry for the rest of her life. For the first time in a decade, the elf feels bone-chilling rage, for it is known that Eldar love only once in their lives, and someone has dared to curse his daughter for a lifetime of heartbreak.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #silmarillion #noldor elves #silmarillion x reader #angst #middle earth #romance #maedhros x reader #maedhros #teleri reader #forgive me I bashed Maedhros and the Noldor #did it for the drama

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