#feanorianweek2024
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@feanorianweek 2024
Day 4 - Caranthir and Ambarussa - "Fireflies"
It's based on an old fanfic of mine. But in it, Caranthir went to the forest with little Curufin instead of the twins.
#tolkien#silmarillion#feanorianweek#caranthir#amrod#amras#ambarussa#elves#my art#middle earth#fanart#silm art#feanorianweek2024#the silmarilion
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@feanorianweek Day 5: Curufin
Curufin with his little baby, that’s all.
#tolkien#silmarillion#feanorian#the silmarillion#feanorians#feanorianweek#feanorianweek2024#elves#silm#silm art#curufinwe#curvo#curufin#celebrimbor#tyelpe
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Feanor and Nerdanel for Day 7 of @feanorianweek
Nerdanel likes to tease Feanor. This time, however, Feanor isn't amused as he usually is (your choice if it's because of his brothers)
NB : Feanor and Nerdanel look a little different from my previous art of them because they both are younger here. I like to think that even if elves doesn't age, they show some change in passing from youth to mature age.
#silmarillion#tolkien#feanorianweek#feanorianweek2024#feanorian week#tolkien elves#tolkienart#silmart#jrr tolkien#feanor and nerdanel#feanor#nerdanel#feanel#feanaro curufinwe#nerdanel istarnie#feanorians#*mine: art#watercolor
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Fëanorian Week Day 1-Ash
It isn’t until the moment he realizes he cannot tell Ambarto’s bones from the rest of their dead that he knows the meaning of loss. The concept is still foreign, despite Alqualondë, despite finding Grandfather Finwë on the steps of Formenos.
Even as he stares at the charred, soaked remains, it all feels like some cruel nightmare. It is said that the Fëanturi possess a terrible sense of humor.
The body only looks like Telufinwë in the same sense that a half-finished painting looks like its subject. His freckles stand out against the bloodless pallor of his cheeks in a way that isn’t right- where the flush of adolescence has always lent his skin a certain rosy sheen. It looks nothing like the waxy wanness of death.
Now, his body is lost in the flecks of ash that float up from the burning ships, and all they have left of him is drowned in frigid seawater and an angry, disillusioned mirror image who calls themselves their brother. Nelyo breathes ash and a sense of dissatisfaction.
There is a part of him that can not accept his youngest brother’s death.
He finds himself expecting Telufinwë to come bounding up the shore at any moment, bow in hand, wild-eyed like he’s never been gone at all. He can envision him apologizing to their father, wincing with the same sheepish embarrassment any of them can muster whenever they disappoint Atar.
He finds himself frustrated, seeking out Telvo’s face among the crowd of their followers.
He finds himself wanting to comfort the twins when difficult questions arise, but there is no longer a set of twins, only a singleton.
He notices his absence more than he ever realized he would, and with every passing day that the loss doesn’t grow more real, his gut begins to creep lower and lower with the realization of how deep his affections run for his younger brothers.
Sometimes, he lays awake, composing conversations, even entire scenes in his mind.
He envisions Telufinwë responding to Atar’s death- the shock way his mouth would slip open, the fall of his eyebrows, the sorrow in his tree-bright eyes. He sees his lips turning up hesitantly, fearful but also hopeful.
“What now?” he’d ask, face full of uncertainty, “You are Noldoran. What do we do now?”
He tells Telufinwë about how they should try and deceive Morginotto and hears all too clearly his skepticism.
Telufinwë would question Atar’s word as well. He’d be nervous, yes, but never afraid, bold in a way only the very young can be.
He knows Telufinwë would stare over Curvo’s head with his eyebrows pinched together because it is strange to have to look down to meet the eyes of his superior, even if Curufin is only one step closer to the throne.
In his mind, he watches Telufinwë imitate Tyelko’s crude language and even cruder behavior, although he looks over his shoulder still as if their mother might be watching. He laughs aloud at the thought of it, startling awake Kano.
He pictures Telvo smiling at him when he finally loses his temper with Curvo’s scheming, sees him turn to his twin with a giddy smile and whisper,
“That took long enough, didn’t it?”
and then laughs softly when Pityo’s sharp smile matches his own.
He sees and hears and feels his youngest brother respond to so many new things in Beleriand.
There is so much left to say, but ashes are all that remain of all of them.
@feanorianweek
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Maglor | Makalaurë & Sons of Fëanor, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor, Fingon | Findekáno & Maglor | Makalaurë, Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien)
Characters: Maglor (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Fingon (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Reunions, Fourth Age of Arda (Tolkien), Hurt/Comfort
Series: Part 2 of Fëanorian Week 2024
Summary:
Maglor sneaks back into Valinor. Too guilt ridden to approach those he loves, he chooses instead to watch them from the shadows, and so his family must devise a plan to catch him.
@feanorianweek
#feanorianweek#feanorianweek2024#maglor#prompt music#a much happier fic this time!#my writing#silmarillion
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Feanorian Week Day Three: Turcafinwe
1290 YT
Bark bark bark bark
What on Yavanna's green earth is that noise? Why does it sound like a dog? And why does it sound like it's coming from down the hall? Oh, dear valar. What did Turca bring home?
I get up from my desk and bolt it out of my study. In the hall, Mother is also sticking her head out of her studio. She had the same idea as me.
"I'll see what he's got up to,"
"Are you sure?" Mother asks, glancing me up and down. She know's I was with Grandfather until late last night. I'd come home just before the mingling began.
"Positive,"
Mother nods and tucks her head back into her studio. Her project has been causing her some ire. It's for Grandfather's garden, and she wants it to be perfect. My napping at my desk can wait.
"Huan! Come back!" Turca's small voice yells, the sound coming toward me.
Soft pads of feet come rushing closer. I’m almost convinced Turca found a new friend when a fluffy dog comes bounding around the corner.
Spotting me the dog bolts. Its large paws pound the wooden flooring. As it gets closer I realize it’s not going to stop. It’s going to plow right into me.
“HEEL!” I shout.
The dog immediately listens, sliding to a stop three feet from me and its tail wagging. Turca on the other hand sprints over to the dog and throws his arms around its neck. He looks up at me and grins.
“This is Huan,” Turca gestures to the dog who I can only assume is a puppy. “He’s my dog,”
“Did you ask Mother or Father?”
“No,” He says as if it wasn’t even a question that he needed to ask.
“How did you get him?”
“Orome gave him to me!”
“Orome?”
“Yep!”
“Oh sweet merciful Eru,” If Orome gave Turca Huan then there is little Mother and Father can do.
“Dana did you find the barking?” Mother calls out.
“You may want to meet him yourself,”
“Meet him? What has your brother gotten himself into?” Mother asks as she makes her way to her door.
Opening the door she gapes at the puppy sitting just outside her door.
“Your Father needs to see this,” Mother utters.
Half an hour later Father, Mother, Turca, Huan and I are sitting on couches in the drawing room. Myself as a spectator and an added voice of reason if it comes to that.
"Orome gave you a dog?" Father asks, gesturing to Huan sitting beside Turca on the couch.
"Yes,"
"To keep?" Father asks.
"Yes,"
"Why?"
"Because he likes me,"
"Because he--Tyelkormo. You cannot keep this puppy. We have enough mouth to feed as is," Mother begins
It's not like we don't have enough money to feed everyone. We are royalty, and most of us have jobs. It's not like we're starving.
"Nerdanel, its a gift from Orome. It would be folly to refuse the dog," Father pulls mother into his arms.
"Why must you be right?"
"Because your right about everything else, let me have this,"
"Fine," Mother quickly tells Turca Huan will be his responsibility. He will feed, clean and look after Huan. No one else in the family help.
"Yes!" Turca exclaims, leaning over to Huan and huging the puppy. Huan, on the other hand, wags his tail excitedly. He then barks loudly. So loud that Nelyo and Kana come running.
They burst into the drawing room. They search the room before locking their eyes on Huan sitting with Turca. Kana stays in the doorway while Nelyo runs for the puppy asking if we get to keep it.
Mother sighs and explains Turca recieved him from Orome.
#danafinwe feaelenion feanorian#nerdanel#turcafinwe#tyelkormo#celegorm#feanorianweek2024#feanaro#feanor#kanafinwe#makalaure#maedhros#maglor#maitimo#nelyafinwe#feanorianweek
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what's left of the world
Rating: G | No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Amras & Amrod
Word count: 688
Amras, and Amrod, and anger. For day six: Ambarussa of @feanorianweek 2024
Read here on AO3
They had talked, on the rough trip over, and agreed: it was unfair for their mother to be left with none of them. They had planned, in the bunk of a sailor who might now be dead, for one of them to sneak back on the ship and to sneak home when it landed again. Their father would never approve, and they could not guess if any of their brothers would help them, so they didn’t tell anyone.
They were lucky, then, to have lived so long in each other’s pockets. The younger woke at the elder’s alarm, and dove into the water on the far side unseen before the flames grew too strong. Fëanáro never even noticed that his youngest son was missing. Only Carnistir asked why his youngest brother was soaked. Maitimo was too busy staring at Fëanáro. Tyelkormo was too busy staring into the flames, or more accurately through them to the shore beyond. Macalaurë and Curufinwë were too busy speaking to each other in hushed tones.
Maedhros sends them away to the southernmost parts of their claimed territory. As a fallback, he claims. Reserve forces, he assures them, despite them knowing he wants them as far from the front lines as possible. It suits them well enough; they build a scattered few little forts to satisfy Maedhros, and disappear into the wilds rather than live in them. The overseer of those forts sends Maedhros letters regularly, responds to them as well. Incidentally, she happens to be quite skilled at mimicking the handwriting of others. It takes some years – rather too many, in the twins’ opinion – for anyone to notice anything amiss, and the one who notices is Celegorm, though only because he elected to track them down when informed that the lords were not currently in residence. Apparently, more than one other brother had been given that excuse and gone on their merry way.
“Care to tell me why you and Telvo’s rooms in all of your forts are entirely unlived in?” Celegorm asks. He asks it cheerfully and without judgment, as he flings himself down beside the campfire Amras is starting. Amrod is at the river a quarter mile away, getting fish for dinner. Once, Celegorm’s easy way of coaxing without prodding, of guiding without forcing, had been one of the many things that made him Amras’s favorite brother after his twin.
Amras looks at him now, expressionless, and tells him, “Amrod was sleeping in the ships the night we burned them.”
(Amras had thrown a torch of his own, that endless night, onto a ship he had earlier helped to unload. He had wanted, quite desperately, to throw it at Fëanor’s head instead. He should have suspected something sooner. Even the hammocks had been taken off that ship.)
(Once, they had left Formenos for nearly two weeks. Slipped out the window of their shared room under Telperion’s light, and hadn’t even brought their bows with them. No one had given any indication that their disappearance had been noted, and upon their return the only comment they’d gotten was their grandfather telling them to wash up for supper.)
Celegorm’s own expression slowly morphs into one of horror. Amras builds the fire.
“Pityo—”
“Amras.”
Celegorm closes his mouth at the sharp tone. It’s a new tone to hear from either of the twins, festered and fostered as the world as they knew it ended over and over again, bitter hemlock leaves spilling out of his mouth at last.
Amrod returns. He doesn’t react to Celegorm, because Amras already warned him. There are only two trout in the net slung over his shoulder. “What’re you two talking about?” he asks, setting the fish down.
“Nothing important,” Amras tells him.
They have lived this way for years, and rarely need to speak these days, with mouths or with minds. Amras sets to preparing and cooking the fish while Amrod pulls out his latest whittling project, both of them silent. Celegorm doesn’t seem to know what to do with the way they shut him out so easily.
They’re long gone when he wakes up the next morning.
#mine#fic#silm#amras#amrod#feanorianweek2024#feanorianweek#ambarussa#silmarillion#the silmarillion#tolkien
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@feanorianweek Day 4: Caranthir
here’s moryo doing his embroidery. he’s slightly embarrassed but nothing can stop him from doing his hobby. my poor misunderstood boi
#tolkien#silmarillion#feanorian#feanorianweek#feanorianweek2024#the silmarillion#feanorians#elves#caranthir#morifinwe#moryo#middle earth#silm
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@feanorianweek Day 6: Ambarussa
“ hunting”: cheeky little twins hunting for cake. yep.
#feanorianweek#feanorianweek2024#feanorian#feanorians#tolkien#silmarillion#the silmarillion#elves#silm#middle earth#ambarussa#amrod#amras#amrod and amras#baby#elfling
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Amras & Amrod & Caranthir & Celegorm & Curufin & Fëanor & Maedhros & Maglor (Tolkien), Celebrimbor & Celegorm (Tolkien), Celegorm & Huan (Tolkien)
Characters: Celegorm (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Huan (Tolkien), Celebrimbor (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Series: Part 3 of Fëanorian Week 2024
Summary:
Maedhros and Maglor have been lost in the disastrous parlay with Morgoth, and the crown now falls to Celegorm. He is greedy and selfish and brash, everything that a Noldor king should not be. Many expect that he will not be up to the task.
They are wrong.
@feanorianweek
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fëanor/Nerdanel (Tolkien), Fëanor & Mahtan Aulendur
Characters: Fëanor (Tolkien), Mahtan Aulendur
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hopeful Ending
Series: Part 6 of Fëanorian Week 2024
Summary:
When Fëanor left the Halls of the Dead, he did not expect Mahtan to be the one waiting for him.
@feanorianweek
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Caranthir | Morifinwë/Haleth of the Haladin, Amras & Amrod & Caranthir & Celegorm & Curufin & Fëanor & Maedhros & Maglor (Tolkien), Caranthir & Fëanor (Tolkien)
Characters: Caranthir (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Fëanor (Tolkien), Haleth of the Haladin
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Bittersweet Ending, author has a fiber arts obsession and is about to make this everyone’s problem
Series: Part 4 of Fëanorian Week 2024
Summary:
Caranthir sits by Haleth’s side as she dies and thinks of his family, his life, and his craft.
@feanorianweek
#feanorianweek2024#feanorianweek#caranthir#i hope you're all ready for lots of embroidery and emotions#haleth#my writing#silmarillion
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Celebrimbor & Curufin (Tolkien)
Characters: Celebrimbor (Tolkien), Curufin (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Reunions
Series: Part 5 of Fëanorian Week 2024
Summary:
Curufin lingers alone in the Unseen Realm, watching and waiting for a chance to take Celebrimbor away from Sauron.
@feanorianweek
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo & Sons of Fëanor, Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien)
Characters: Maedhros (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Fingon (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Summary:
Maedhros and death, from birth until the end of the First Age.
@feanorianweek
#feanorianweek2024#day one: coping#not that he does it very well#but dude's got a lot of trauma okay?#maedhros#my writing#silmarillion#feanorianweek
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Feanorian Week Day Seven: Feanaro and Nerdanel
140 FO
"They're supposed to arrive today," I tell Mother over my tea cup.
She decided to drag me from my desk in the castle to enjoy a small break with her. At the manor, no less. We could have gone anywhere in Tirion, but we had to go home.
I'm not mad about it, but this means I could be here when they arrive. I wasn’t expecting to see them until dinner. I had time to rein in my emotions but now I may not.
I'm supposed to be Arafinwe's chief advisor and head of state. I take care of nearly everything for him like I did for Oropher and Thranduil in their respective ruling of the Eryn Lasgalen.
Father, Grandfather and Grandmother are set to arrive in Tirion today. They should go to the castle to see Arafinwe first, but I have a sneaking suspicion they are coming here first. I’d have been fine greeting them there but again I think they’ll come here.
Mother hasn't seen Father since we left in 1495. I haven't seen Grandfather since he was murdered twelve feet from me. As for Grandmother, neither Mother nor I have met her. She's been in Mandos since before either of us was born.
"That's what has you fired up?" She asks, raising her eyebrow.
"Yes," I gulp some tea down to avoid a longer answer.
"Dana, darling, you're getting married next week, and your Father, Grandfather and Grandmother arriving is what has you more fired up than a smithy." Mother snorts in an attempt to hold back her nervous laughter.
An understatement. I feel like I'm holding back a torrent of flames and heat, and holding it back is so strenuous that I've begun to shake.
"Yes,"
"You'd think I'd be more...more..."
"More fired up than me?" I offer loosely drawing on my skills as a wordsmith.
"Yes,"
"Dana, there are three people coming up the drive. One has silver hair like Turca," Tauriel's voice filters into the sunroom. I'd ask what could have possibly torn her away from her drawing with Nelyo, but when someone has hair like Turca, there can only be one person it belongs to.
The art room and the sunroom overlook the drive. I could see if it’s them. I twist in the arm chair and try to catch a glimpse of the three people. Sure enough there are three people walking up the drive. One has silver hair and the other two have dark brown hair.
Oh, sweet Varda, they're here.
I plop my tea cup onto the side table and stare at Mother. She looks as nervous as I feel. Oh valar.
I slide my legs off the arm of the armchair and stand. Together, Mother and I exit the sunroom. Nelyo meets us in the hall and walks with us to the front entry.
Tauriel silently walks behind us, muttering about our or rather my relatives, trying to figure out who they are. She then comes upon the answer and gasps.
At the front entry we don’t have to wait long for the doors to open. In fact it’s as we’re arriving that they open.
Standing on the other side of the doors are the very people I expected. Grandfather, Grandmother and Father. The original royal family. Finally, complete after all this time.
“Feaelenion,” Grandfather smiles.
“Grandfather,” I whisper.
Then, in an instant, he opens his arms for a hug like he did all those years ago. I surge forward, tears streaming down my face and fold myself into the hug. It's everything I've been wanting all these years.
I feel Grandfather lift his arms from my back and beckon Nelyo over. My brother instantly envelopes me and Grandfather in his arms. And suddenly, I'm fifty again.
“Forgive me, my dearest,” Father weeps between gasps. “forgive me,”
“I have. You are forgiven,” Mother murmurs. "You have been for some time,"
I detach myself from Grandfather and Nelyo to watch my parents. Father is kneeling and hugging Mother's waist as tightly as he can, from what I can tell. Mother is leaning down and murmuring into the top of his head.
Both have tears streaming down their cheeks.
I wipe my own tears from my face and beckon Tauriel over. She wonders closer in a daze as if realizing I wasn't exaggerating when I said I look identical to my Grandfather.
"Grandfather, this is Tauriel my oldest,"
"Your oldest," A feminine voice, not belonging to Mother, says. "How many do you have?"
"Two," I smile, glancing at the small female with silver hair. A clear relation to Father and the hair Turca inherited. "My youngest is Aravel. He's currently out with Nanwe,"
"As in the lord, Finwe mentioned you were courting?" Grandmother asks.
"I still am,"
"Dana, you're getting married to him in a week," Tauriel states as if it were plainer than my nose.
"Are we not allowed to court up until then?"
Tauriel sputters, then blows a raspberry at me. Delightful use of words, darling. Delightful.
"They are...your own?" Grandmother tentatively asks. She eyes me and my daughter.
It's quite clear that Tauriel and I do not resemble one another. Her red hair could have been inherited from Mother if she was my child, but he skin colour? That is far too dark to be mine or Nanwe's.
I'd have her no other way. She is beautiful as is. A perfect addition to my family.
"No, they're adopted. If I were to have a child of my own body, I'd turn out like you, Grandmother," I tell her as I pull Tauriel into my side for a hug.
"Oh,"
"How do you know?" Grandfather asks.
Oh, dear valar. So many questions, and it's not even over dinner. I sigh and tell them I was told by Iluvatar. Which is true. It just wasn't in person.
"YOU WHERE WHAT?" Father asks, tearing his and Mother's attention from each other.
"It was the night I'd accepted Nanwe as my intended," I sigh, remembering the night clearly as if it were yesterday. "He slipped into my dreams that night and said if I were to bear a child I would end up like my Grandmother,"
"Why did you not say something?" Nelyo asks. He saw me that morning after. I was shaken, and he knew me well enough then to know something happened.
He was so sure it was Nanwe that he nearly broke exile to tear Nanwe's head off. It took me sitting on his chest to get him to stop. I had to tell him I had a nightmare to get him to back off.
"It wasn't a big deal. Nanwe and I had just accepted one another, and children were so far off. It wasn't a pressing issue,"
Tauriel pulls on my sleeve. She's looking directly at Father. "Uncle Curvo wasn't lying when he said he looked exactly like Grandfather,"
"No he wasn't,"
"Did you say, Grandfather?" Father asks Tauriel. Father's head snaps to Tauriel standing by me.
Tauriel nods.
Father swears and gingerly picks her up in a hug and twirls her around while murmuring, "A grandchild. A grandchild. A grandchild,"
Mother and I share a smile. We had many conversations over the past month depicting what his reaction will be to Tauriel and Aravel. What his reaction to Mother will be. How she will react and how my siblings will react.
"She's also a smith," Nelyo mentions.
Father places Tauriel down and asks her if this is true. At her nod Father pulls her into a tight hug. Mother chuckles and attaches herself to her husband and grandchild.
#danafinwe feaelenion feanorian#feanaro#nerdanel#feanorianweek#feanor#nelyafinwe#kanafinwe#turcafinwe#morifinwe#feanorianweek2024#ambarussa#amras#amrod#celegorm#caranthir#curufin#makalaure#maedhros#maglor#maitimo#finwe#mirel#arafinwe#nolofinwe#tauriel feanorian#aravel feanorian
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Feanorian Week Day Four: Morifinwe
1401 YT
"Again, how did you end up with such a female?" Turca asks Mori as he slouches into a chair pushed into the corner of Mori's room.
"She found me," Mori reiterates for the fifth time today.
"I don't think that's what Itisse says," Turca muses, picking at the frayed edge of the chair's arm.
Mori whirls around, leaving one arm inside his robes and the other half in his sleeve. "YOu don't know that,"
"I'm fairly certain I do,"
"Turca, don't antagonize Mori before his wedding," I holler as I look at the jewellery Mori chose last night. I'd applaud Mori for his choices, but he's preoccupied.
Among his chosen pieces is Mori's family ring. The ring father made him. I wonder if Mori will demand father to make Itisse a ring. I know he made her engagement and wedding rings.
"I am not," Turca fires back.
"Yes you are,"
"I am not,"
"You're now rialing me up, and I wouldn't do that if I were you,"
"Why not?"
"I wonder?" I smile while lighting a solitary finger on fire. I wave it as I turn to watch my brother's expression change.
Turca puckers his lips. He sinks further into the chair, nodding as he goes. So he does remember my power over fire. It's funny how little one can remember when trying to antagonize one another.
As Mori finishes getting ready, I usher Turca and Kana out. Nelyo and I stay as Mori puts on his rings. Once our brother is ready, we escort him out of the manor and to the backyard.
He and Itisse wanted a small wedding. Small but extravagant at the same time. It was not only confusing to organize but hard.
Hours later, Mori and Itisse have said their vows and promises. Then it's time for the celebration: dancing, food, music, and wine.
The happy couple takes to the dance floor with grace and ease, as if they have danced together before. It's beautiful. They are beautiful and well-matched.
After their first dance, Father bows and asks Itisse for a dance. Mori reluctantly hands over his bride. Mori watches with delight oozing off him. His bride and father danced to a song Kana sang over and over in my room one day. This song was not the one he went over one riff for hours on but another one—this one he wrote for Mori's wedding.
It's special.
Halfway through Father and Itisses dance, I wander over to my brother and ask for a dance. Mori smiles and accepts. As Mori and I make our way onto the dancefloor, I spy Mother giving Ambarussa a tongue lashing in the corner. I can only assume they got caught pouring wine into the punch.
I later learned they'd tried to leave to watch the mingling instead of dancing with young ladies.
My and Mori's dance went perfectly. My favourite brother, whom I will never admit to having favourites, was extremely pleased. He promptly asked if I wanted to dance again before he went to his wife. I declined and told him to get a move on.
Mori nods and swiftly kisses me on the cheek. I watch him glide over to Itisse and scoop her into his arms. They spin before kissing tenderly. I don't think I've ever seen Mori this happy or excitable.
Marriage is a good look on Morifinwe.
#danafinwe feaelenion feanorian#morifinwe#caranthir#carinstar#turcafinwe#tyelkormo#celegorm#kanafinwe#makalaure#maglor#feanorianweek2024#maedhros#maitimo#nelyafinwe#curufinwe#curufin#atarinke#pityafinwe and telufinwe#ambarussa#amrod and amras#feanaro#nerdanel#feanorianweek
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noname-40
To Be Desired
luxm0nst3r
SEX IS ACCIDENT
levidu99
Fiti Vidal