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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

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Of the Wrath (and the Candies)

[in which Finrod joins the War of Wrath, but with a plot twist. The plot twist being, Finrod is smol.]

Look. Finarfin is not mad.

Finarfin isn't even disappointed.

Finarfin is just too tired for all of this.

Therefore, when on the fifth day of the sail from Valinor to Beleriand he entered the cabin and met his son's eyes, he only sighed and said, "Your mother will kill me, Findarato."

Finrod just frowned and dug his teeth into the cookie.

That evening two portions of dinner were ordered to be prepared for the king's cabin, and the news spread very quickly that Prince Findarato Ingoldo Artafinde was going with them to war. Which was logical, because the prince was one of the few who saw the war with his own eyes and commanded the soldiers. It was also illogical, because the prince was literally twenty-five years old. He looked twenty-five years old. That is, he didn't even reach the king's chest, had soft childish golden hair and generally looked like a kid.

Believe me, Finrod was annoyed by this the most.

Because he is not Findarato Ingoldo Artafinde Arafinwion. He is Findarato Ingoldo Artafinde Finrod Felagund Arafinwion, Prince of the Noldor, Head of the Third House in Beleriand, King of Nargothrond, for Morgoth's sake! He is a king, but this cursed body, this little childish body, makes everyone think that he is that little prince from the Tree Years, carefree and pure -

That's why he was now glaring at Finarfin, stubbornly crunching a cookie. Finarfin had already placed the bowl of sweets high on the dresser and was sitting in a chair, looking wearily at the spiteful little gremlin sitting across from him.

The hardest thing about this... situation was combining the fact that Finrod had already lived and died, and that Finrod was technically still a child. He did not get along well with his emotions. He could not explain his own motives.

Finrod - the old Finrod - was now confined in a body that could not contain his spirit.

So Finarfin just sighed, put a plate of dinner in front of his son and hoped that the cookies his son had been eating these five days had not killed his appetite.

The enthusiasm with which the prince took to eating made Finarfin heave a sigh of relief.

The host of Valinor had to get used to the child at the meetings very quickly. Well, not a child. Finrod.

(Elwing agreed to send a word to Eärwen just as she was preparing to say goodbye to Eärendil. Something made Finarfin feel that neither Eärwen nor Amarie would be happy about the news.)

Be that as it may, Finrod became a regular member of the meetings. However, several encyclopedias had to be placed on his chair so that the prince would feel comfortable. Finrod ignored it. Finarfin thought it was sweet, but remained silent.

And Finrod reminded them again and again that he was not a child. He spoke clearly, expressively, calmly; talked about the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy, about the various... creatures he uses, about tactics and strategy, about geography, features of the landscape, about potential allies.

Finrod was a war veteran.

Soon we all will be, Finarfin thought, gritting his teeth.

So, let's go through the points.

For the last few hundred years his nephews were succesfully doing Morgoth's job with their own hands.

The condition was so bad that the orcs began using poison on their blades and no one had the time or resources to find an antidote.

Beside elves, humans and dwarves quickly flocked under the banners of Valinor. And not just soldiers. Refugees. People fleeing from under the heel of Morgoth to the front line. Old people and children who fell out of the frying pan into the fire.

Tulkas was unaware of the limits of the Children of Ilúvatar's bodies, and would push them until they collapsed from exhaustion. (Tulkas also didn't know that Finarfin was angry and stubborn, no better than his famous brothers. After some very calm conversations with Finarfin and Eonwe, he eased up a bit).

And he also had a grandson, whose name was Gil-Galad, about whom Finrod forgot to tell.

(In Finrod's defense, he took a long time to apologize, because when you're locked in a child's body, the last thing you think about are grandchildren).

Under Gil-Galad's care were his... twice removed great-great-grandsons, twins, who were hiding behind his grandson's back.

Above his tent, in the heavens, shone a star, which was Eärendil, who was his great-grandson twice removed and the father of the boys.

And the boys considered themselves orphans, because his nephews destroyed their town and their mother threw herself into the sea.

Ah, yes, forgot to add. After that, they took the twins under their care.

And now they sent them to him.

Finarfin wished very much that his eye would stop twitching.

It was... a very strange family reunion.

Elrond felt himself... out of his plate. Yeah.

Elros was always by his side, but it didn't help much. BUT! His father was next to him! Well, not like next-next to him, more like "high in the sky" to him, but hey. "High in the sky" counts, because all the past years his father was across the ocean. Now they could even communicate! With torches! Yay!

And there was godsdamned Finarfin! And Gil-Galad, Finarfin's grandson! Oh, even better, here was a whole, Morgoth take him, Finrod!!!

The one who's also a child!!!

The same one standing right across from him looking at Elros who has the cursed ring of Barahir on his finger!!!

Elrond! Wanted! To run! To Cirdan!!!

"So is it true?" suddenly asked Elros, and his eyes shone with ill interest.

"Every word of it," Finrod nodded.

"Did you really slay a werewolf unarmed??"

Finrod nodded silently, and Elros exhaled, taking Elrond's hand. A dangerous, maniacal desire to know more burned in his eyes.

"Elrond. Elrond, Maedhros must hear this. Elrond, I knew it all my life. I knew-"

"What, Maedros didn't believe I did?" asked the prince - the boy - Finrod - and a childish resentment could be heard in his voice.

"No!"

"Why??"

"Sindar propaganda!" Elros chirped cheerfully and grabbed Finrod by the hand, pulling him to the tent with food. "I want to know everything from beginning to end!"

By the end of the evening, Finrod decided that Elrond and Elros were worth dying for. He also added a few points to his very long monologue with which he was going to greet Maglor and Maedros. Something about kinslayings being bad and replacing dead brothers with twin orphans, yada yada, nothing to see here.

He also decided that Gil-Galad was boring. The mature part of him knew that the boy was on the verge of a breakdown, but the child in him declared that Gil-Galad was grown-up and boring, and Finrod decided to agree.

He also prepared plan number 51 to steal weapons from his father's tent. Look, he fought. He is a warrior. He slayed the werewolf with his own teeth. He should be on the battlefield, not in a tent processing intelligence.

He planned to draw Elros into the plan, for he resembled Turgon and Beren at the same time, and neither Turgon nor Beren would ever refuse to do something that foolish.

Galadriel appeared after ten goddamn years.

Which was good and bad at the same time. Bad, because the lands of Galadriel were one of the few safe places where the refugees could hide, but Celeborn stayed there, so the problem was solved. Good, because Galadriel brought weapons, supplies, and information. And, well, because she was family.

It was because she was family that Finrod hid in the armory.

He did not even want to imagine the moment of their meeting. Gil-Galad told him that, honestly, he thinks Artanis will kill him, resurrect him, and kill him again.

Thank you very much, Finrod did not sign up for this. He had barely grown to the point where his body began to take on the form of an adult, which meant that Finarfin couldn't stop him from participating in battles now. He celebrated the moment with the twins with a pint of ale for three. Finarfin still didn't think he could drink.

So, Finrod didn't want to meet Galadriel, because it would end in bloodshed.

And hiding in the armory seemed like a good idea. The twins brought him food and water. He could easily sit out his sister's visit here and show up in... ten years, when he finally grew up.

The evening and night went well. He suspected that his father was to busy catching up (read: comforting her while she sobbed) with Artanis now, but still let him know that everything was fine.

The next day he woke up and met his sister's face.

Galadriel blinked, her blue eyes studying him.

"Um."

Finrod sat down. Fake it 'till you make it?

"Have we met?" he asked innocently, and Galadriel exhaled sharply.

"You are a nasty little-"

"Rude."

"I swear to MORGOTH-"

"HEY! IS THAT MY DAGGER??!"

"Father," breathed Galadriel, holding her brother by the collar of his shirt.

Finrod broke free.

"She robbed my grave, dad!"

"Father-"

"SHE TOOK MY DAGGER!!"

"FATHER, HOW IN THE WORLD-"

Finarfin sighed.

He had a long day ahead of him.

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strelkovski · 7 months

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Green boy here again

#art #artists on tumblr #fanart #digital art #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #elves #noldor #vanyar #teleri #finrod #finrod felagund #artafinde #ingoldo #findarato #arafinweans

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swuqrts · 3 years

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Fingon: Help! Does anyone know where my boyfriend is?

Finrod: How does he look like?

Fingon: I don't know... handsome * cries *

#findarato #artafinde #ingoldo #finrod #finrod felagund #fingon #findekano #silmarillion incorrect quotes #the silmarillion #silmarillion

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cosmicgong · 4 years

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Hello! Finrod/ celebrimbor in 18. Thanks!!!

Thank you for your request! Palette credit Ko-fi Instagram Twitter

#finrod felagund #Celebrimbor #Findarato Artafinde Ingoldo #arafinweans #tyelperinquar #Feanorians #Elves #Tolkien #Palette MEme #Sketch #Study #tfw your uncle turns out to be a twink next to you #CosmicArt #The Silmarillion

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piyo13sdoodles · 5 years

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findaráto ingoldo the wise, felakundu to the dwarves, king of nargothrond

#finrod #finrod felagund #felagund #silmart #silmarillion #lotr #the silmarillion #findarato #ingoldo #i found out while trying to create a caption that this bastard has many more names than i believed #findarato artafinde ingoldo nom felagund felakundu edennil #and atandil i forgot that one my bad #anyways i just wanted to draw him in armor cause guess what!!!!!#i love finrod

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kanafnwe · 5 years

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oh no finrod

modern!au

#finrod #fingon #maedhros #modern!au #maitimo #findekano #nelyafinwe #russandol #finrod felagund #findarato #silmarillion #the silmarillion #artafinde #ingoldo #tolkien #lotr #my art

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legolasgoldy · 4 years

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

repost, don’t reblog

BASICS.

full name. Finrod Ingoldo Felagund ( Findaráto Artafinde Ingoldo Arafinwean; Finrod is the Sindarin translation of Findarato that he uses instead once in middle earth)

pronunciation. Fin-rod In-gol-doe Fell-ah-gund

nickname(s). Findo, his Favorite being ‘ Fin ‘ spoken by few very close friends and lovers. other nicknames being things like ‘ wolfy’ said by friends or lovers. Highly depends on person. ( Finda, Findo, Ingo ( which he doesnt really like), Nóm, Nómin, Felagund, Edennil, Atandil )

gender. Cisgendered Male

height. 6′1, also depends on age

age. Verse dependent, teens to 20s sometimes 30s

zodiac. Taurus, April 23rd

spoken languages. English, decently fluent in french and spanish. A little Gaelic when dating his boyfriend Rhys Brennan. ( Obviously in Tolkien aus he speaks Elvish which includes Telerin, Noldorin, Sindarin, etc, Early dwarven tongues like Khuzdul, common/westron, pretty much anything he can learn even the language of the enemy. He however does not know the change in certain languages or new languages that occurs over the ages hes dead. Not until Galadriel, Gimli, and/or one of the hobbits tell him.)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color. Golden blonde

eye color. Emerald green

skin tone. Not pale but fair with a semi neutral and slightly peachy undertone.

body type. Tall and toned. He is muscular but not super buff depending on what you consider to be buff. Body claim pics are in his pages. Hes very soft yet firm, strong, and warm for cuddling.

accent. A mix between american and european english. He was born and raised in Maine until 7 years old then they moved to lower states. His parents have heavy english accents, which he acquired as a small child, and as he grew older it developed into a soft neutral-ish american accent with english attributes. For example, he will say eye-ther instead of ee-ther for Either. Sometimes he’ll also catch himself saying Tom-AH-toes instead of Tom-Aye-toes.

voice. Very kind, gentle, medium deepness of a tone. He doesnt sound excessively deep but not high pitched either, its a very cozy warm mid-way deepness that’ll make you feel safe and soothed. However, it can get a deeper when angry or..during intimate activities.

dominant hand. He is Ambidextrous

posture. somewhere between casual and proper

scars: A few random small scars from childhood, after his mutation kicked in he can no longer get scarring which is fortunate considering the amount of times hes bitten completely through his tongue or lips with his fangs when he first got his mutation. Not to mention times hes been hurt in the future. ( depends on time period, sometimes none at all but others he can have scarring from fighting, any type of misc scar, but not an over abundance of them where you can see.)

tattoos. None, his skin wont hold tattoos after his mutation.

birthmarks. None

most noticeable feature(s). hair, eyes, and fangs. ( Hair, eyes, jewelry.)

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. Maine, US. ( Tirion in Valinor )

hometown. On the coast of Maine; i havent decided a city/town.

birth weight. 6.9lbs (3.1kg)

birth height. 18.6 lbs (47.2cm)

first words. Mommy or Daddy. ( Amme or Atya)

siblings. Twin brothers Aegnor and Angrod, and little sister Galadriel. ( Twin brothers Ambaráto Aikanáro Arafinwean, Angaráto Arafinwean, and little sister Artanis Nerwen Arafinwean; translated into Sindarin their names are Aegnor and Angrod. Artanis chooses the name Galadriel for herself and does not use her birth names)

parents. Finarfin and Earwen Felagund. ( Arafinwë Ingoldo Finwean and Eärwen Olwean)

parental involvement. Finrod’s parents are both Aquatic Biologists, so he often spent time with them at work as a child. Whether that was near fresh water or salt water, if it was safe for him to go he went. They have always been very close and supportive to each other. ( His parents have always been supportive of him and they have always been very close. They would live in either Tirion or Alqualondë during different seasons so Finrod and his siblings could grow to be apart of both cultures.)

ADULT LIFE.

occupation. Verse and timeline dependent. Generally, Finrod works in a greenhouse & landscaping company. Later on he’ll may get a job as a music teacher. In the rockstar branch of the x-men au he is just that, a Rockstar. ( He is a prince of the Noldor and Teleri. Later he is the King of Nargothrond.)

close friends / family. Yes. Who that is, is very much Thread and verse dependent.

relationship status. In a long term relationship with his boyfriend Rhys Brennan. ( Unofficially married to Makalaurë Kanafinwë Feanorian. Can be verse dependent.)

financial status. His parents had to make a lot of money to support four kids, so it was comfortable enough. However when he moves out he begins making his own money, and he isnt rich by any means but happy with where hes at. ( Timeline dependent, but usually very wealthy.)

driver’s license. Yes, hes a very good driver.

criminal record. None.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. Not really sure, but most likely something along the lines of ‘ I want to know what love is’ by Foreigner ( The song he sang to Sauron)

hobbies to pass time. Singing, playing instruments, Reading, Spending time with his family and friends.

mental illnesses. Not that he knows of ( PTSD, depression.)

physical illnesses. None, as a healing mutant he is unable to get illnesses. ( No illnesses but he does have pain caused by PTSD ranging from light to severe. The pain mostly occurs in his hands and feet, but radiates throughout depending how strong the attack lasts. At times it may only be a very mild ache, and others debilitating paired with mental state. The last being less common and can be accompanied by sleep paralysis and/or night terrors)

left or right-brained. Right-brained

self-confidence level. Depends on time period but normally pretty high? Hes very confident in himself aside from when he started mutating and ran away from home, his confidence was pretty low then. Its usually when hes under personal distress due to someone he cares about being hurt in some way that his confidence dips down. Highly depends on scenario though. ( Pretty high aside from times of extreme distress and depression. e.i. 1. After the first Kin Slaying. 2.Traveling through the helcaraxë he had to force it high because he couldnt lose confidence in a time like that, so it was simultaneously low and high at the same time. 3. After he lost his brothers and many of his family.)

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Demisexual + Bisexual

romantic orientation. Biromantic

preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch

preferred sexual role. submissive | dominant | switch which ever he and his partner prefer hes more than happy with

libido. When single and has no one hes attracted to, virtually non existent. Sure, the need arises every now and then, but the want not so much. When in love its endless if his partner wants it too.

turn on’s. Seeing his partner smile. Especially if its a very wide unadulterated happy smile, even more so if the smile is towards him. Watching his partner walk and/or bend over. He loves being teased, whether its a sultry look, pose, touch, kiss, or words. His partner sitting in his lap. Watching his partner just be beautiful, which can be as simple as them sitting in the sun content or just quietly enjoying themselves in some way. Anything sensual. Getting lost in a happy moment together.

turn off’s. His partner not being in the mood bc he doesnt want to if his partner doesnt, excessively disgusting dirty talk, his partner being upset or hurt, purposeful pain.

love language. Sensuality. Frequent touches, quality time together and doing special things that they consider ‘ their thing’, talking and listening, supporting each others hobbies and dreams, and helping each other with every day domestic activities.

relationship tendencies. Finrod is drawn to unique people even though he doesnt necessarily realize he is at the time. Something will grab his interest and he’ll try to get to know them, it all goes from there. Since he is a creative individual hes just naturally drawn to other creative people whether they use their creativity in the same way or not. The people he has fallen for have all been unique, talented, and inspiring even if they dont know it or downright deny it. They all have a depth to them and they may have a darkness inside them but he loves them, and who they are, darkness and all. He sees so much light and love in his partners. As far as physical type, it doesnt really matter much but hes very taken by pretty hair, eyes, and smiles.

Tagged By: @blind-mutant ty! <3 @

Tagging: @mikhailvalhidris, @driftinglightofthewoods, @truesanguinesoul, @admirable-mairon, @bouncingbeleg, @first-son-of-finwe And anyone i missed or who wants too!! :D

#his x-men au is in basic text and Tolkien in italics #My Finrod Headcanons #Thank you so much for tagging this was really fun!!#Some of these memes get really repetitive but this one is so good!!#I was Tagged.#rp related

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enanoakd · 7 years

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House of Finarfin

Note: This is not my edit. I only contributed with some stuff, so I’ll not tag it as mine. This was made by a good friend of mine and asked me to upload it here. If you like the edition, at least, give a like to her facebook page.

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

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We've Chosen Ourselves

[Finrod and Amarie after Finrod's reembodiement in Valinor.]

The hardest thing one needed to adapt to in Valinor was ethernal, surreal peace.

There was no threat.

No threat, Finrod reminded himself as the bird he didn't notice flapped its wings and took off for the sky. No threat. No enemy. No need to run, to make sure everybody's safe, to accept refugees and put on enchanted armor.

It was making him sick, and Finrod wished - in a twisted, desperate way - he stayed dead.

Valinor didn't need him.

It didn't need his knowledge or wisdom or memories. It didn't need his help. It didn't...

It continued spinning even though the world around it was burning to ashes. It didn't care.

And Finrod wanted to scream and to cry and to rip it apart, to show them blood, and flames, and death; but he only gritted his teeth and pursed his lips.

Valinor wasn't Beleriand.

There was no Enemy.

There was no threat, he reminded himself, hearing Amarie's footsteps, crunching leaves and startled birds announcing her presence.

He tried not to look at her, not to look at her golden braid and calm blue eyes and gentle hands; he could not look at her. Not without being reminded of how far he'd fallen. How his hands were elbows deep in blood, his skin was reminiscent of smokes and how his own hair was cut short - how every time looking in mirror he saw not himself, but wolves and bats and chains and fires.

"Why did you came?" he breathed, and he didn't care that his words sound harsh and bitter.

Maybe, if he tries, he can push her away just enough for her to see what... creature she cares for.

Amarie didn't stop. She went behing him, settling the basket with food on the outdoor table.

"I came to visit," she finally shrugged, looking straight at him. "Someone has to make sure you don't starve yourself to second death."

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much," he grunted and rested his cheen on his knees, tracing the forest with indifferent eyes.

"You haven't moved since yesterday, Finde."

That's true, Finrod admitted, even though Amarie's voice was far too soft for his likening. He settled on silence, hoping it's enough to keep her away. She just sighed.

Sometimes, Finrod wonders why was he so reluctant to let her near. Sometimes, he remembers all to well the days they spent together, the jokes they shared, the way he held her hand. Sometimes, all he knows is cold face of her brother, sharply informing that she won't be joining him.

Maybe it's for better, Finrod thought. Maybe it's good she didn't have to experience the cold of Helcaraxe and the heat of Bragollach.

"... you weren't listening, were you."

Sorry, the old Finrod wants to say. I didn't mean to. Go again?

The current Finrod can't bring himself to care.

Still, he tilted his head a bit, just enough for Amarie to sigh and drop the subject.

"Whatever. You can see what I brought later."

It's probably the usual, Finrod thought, and guilt tangled in his stomach. She always put berries in for him; berries which she picked herself and which Finrod didn't dare to touch.

"You- you really don't have to do it," he blurted. "It's- not worth it. Not worth the trouble."

"Getting you food isn't trouble."

"Not- not the food. The berries."

The berries, she frowned. Then, she sighed. Again.

It's funny. He could probably make a game out of it. How many times can he make Amarie sigh during a conversation? Gods, she was probably tired.

"You loved them, when we were younger."

"Ah," he frowned, trying to remember. "I- I guess I still do."

"Then I don't see a problem."

"It's- unnecessary."

Amarie sighed again. It wasn't a tired sigh, it was an "Eru give me strenght or I'm punching the idiot in the face" sigh.

"Findarato Ingoldo," her voice was - finally - cold. "You better think ten times before speaking or I swear to God."

"Don't swear. Nothing good comes from swearing."

"I absolutely hate you, Finde. Actually, I despise you."

And oh, it was supposed to be a joke, but her tone held another layer - a layer Amarie herself didn't want to recognize. Sorrow. Hurt.

Resignation.

"I'm sorry," Finrod whispered.

Amarie inhaled, clerly wanting to protest, but then pursed her lips.

"Me too."

She sat next to Finrod, and for a moment it was only him, her and autumn forest. For a moment, he could pretend they were far away, far ago, and they joked and held hands and her eyes were the most beautiful things he could imagine.

But pretending wasn't going to lead him anywhere. And so he was back in the present, and the wind was cold and his chest ached with phantom pain where the werewolf's claws left their marks.

"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly. "I'm not the Finrod I was anymore."

"And I stopped being the Amarie you knew long ago," she shrugged. "And your father isn't the same Arafinwe he was before the Darkening. We all changed."

And somehow, it made it worse, and he didn't know why. Maybe because in Beleriand he convinced himself that those who stayed in Aman chose better fate. Fate without pain and fear. He convinced himself that Amarie still laughed and Father was still smiling broadly, holding Mother close.

"Change," he choked. "In Beleriand - the first thing you get used to is how fast it all changes. How it takes less time for leaves to go yellow. How the clouds seem to always hurry. How..." - how fast the faces of the most loved ones fade and how they hold your hand on their deathbed, their hair gray and their eyes weary - "How stability is but an illusion," - how little it takes to set the world aflame. "I... I guess I didn't think about change here."

"Noone did," she said, and her eyes are looking past the trees, past the skies, peeking in the time that was but a memory. "We didn't need to."

"I'm sorry," he repeated stubbornly.

"For what?"

For clinging to you, he thought. For remembering you in dreams. For looking Artanis in the eyes and feeling that cursed longing, the one I should've abandoned all those years ago.

For dooming you and me.

But he just inhaled and said, "I missed you."

Amarie went still. Her lips were pused in the tin line. Finrod was sure he didn't look better himself.

"I-"

She stopped, inhaled, closed her eyes.

"I. I missed you too. I missed you so goddamn much," she finaly hissed, trying to hold back tears. "Knowing that- you won't come back. And I stayed behind."

"You- you didn't."

"I did."

"I left you."

"... you did," she whispered and turned away. "I stayed behing and you left without me. It would be natural if we just forgot about eachother, wouldn't it? It would hurt, of course, but we've chosen our fates. But I-"

"-couldn't," Finrod whispered instead of her.

"... couldn't."

"Do you think we can now?"

Amarie laughed, but it was hurt and tired.

"We're both broken," she choked. "We both were clay pots, but now we're nothing but scattered shards."

Finrod turned to her, meeting her eyes.

She was crying. He felt tears streaming down his face.

"Do you think we're beyond repairing?"

She shook her head, and it almost made her cry more.

"Then we'll pick up the shards and try to glue them together," he said.

And it will be hard, and there will be times when they would sit like that again, wondering if they're really beyond repair; but then he will hold his hand out, and she will take it,

and the sun will set off for it's journey once again, just barely touching them with its rays.

#lads i feel like this is the longest fic i posted on this hell of a site #silmarillion #tolkien #finrod #finrod felagund #findarato ingoldo artafinde finrod felagund #amarie #finrod×amarie #lay of leithian #Valinor #they are ✨communicating✨#no beta i die like i've met turin turambar #like. I love their relationship so much #also it's like 3am. There's probably ton of typos and english isn't my first language. You've been warned

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

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He Who Sings Against Gods - Part Five

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

Chapter Five

The Talks

Time stopped.

Finrod was lost again, squeezing his father in a desperate hug.

You're here. You're here.

I'm here. I'm here.

He had no control over his thoughts, emotions, or Osanwe. His father's strength enveloped his mind, his hands firmly on his shoulders.

Loneliness. Pain. Shame.

It's alright. It's alright.

Anger. Fear. Where are you?

I'm sorry. I'm here. I'm here.

Smoke, fire, screams-

I'm here. I'm with you. I'm holding you.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

I'm here.

He felt weak.

I'm holding you.

His heart cried with pain, reminding him of a long healed scar.

"I'm here," Finarfin whispers. "It's alright. I got you."

Finrod gives up - in fact, he didn't even fight - and closes his eyes.

He's here. He got him.

The silence is broken only by the quiet whisper of the king, who hugs his long-lost son.

Lahto was worried.

The king disappeared. Not completely - Lahto felt his presence, bright and strong as always. However, he disappeared.

More precisely, Lahto knew where the king was, but he could not physically get there, because at the door to the prince's room, calm and unruffled, throwing control glances at the corridor from time to time, stood Thamion.

Lahto did not like Thamion. Thamion was- Thamion constantly steered the king in the wrong direction, constantly stood in his shadow, smiling defiantly, laughing with him behind closed doors. Thamion was as dangerous as a wild cat.

Thamion led the king away from Valar. The pain echoed in Lahto's chest.

He can't get his king back without losing Thamion.

This made him desperate, because it was impossible to get rid of Thamion. He'd repeat that to Irmo over and over again.

Irmo, unlike others, listened intently. He supported him, he comforted him.

You're doing everything right.

The king needs your help. He just doesn't understand it.

He's still a child, isn't he? You remember how he ran around your king's palace and laughed.

Lahto wants the king to laugh again. He wants him to finally listen to him and get some rest in Irmo's garden.

And he wants Thamion to go there too. He is wrong, but he is not guilty. Melkor's lies are too deep in his head.

Irmo calms him down by hugging him close to his chest.

Lahto is crying.

Lahto just wants his king to laugh again.

"-mion."

It was quiet.

"I'll bring you dinner."

The hand stroking his hair stopped uncertainly. Finrod groaned in protest.

The hand returned.

"Are you sure?"

Sigh.

"He didn't eat for - three days? four days? And even don't get me started on you. You hadn't eaten today, had you?"

Finrod was a bit annoyed. He's resting. He wants silence. Is it so hard to organize?

He opened his eyes and looked at Thamion with the most annoyed look he could muster.

Silence. He wants silence. Get out of here, Thamion.

"Thamion, you are asked to get out."

The figure in the doorway gasped.

"The child has spoken?"

Hm, maybe it's time to introduce the death penalty. Finrod closed his eyes.

He stopped at the ants. Yes. Tamion should be drenched in honey and thrown into the anthill. Hmm.

Thamion snorted but went out and closed the door. There was a pleasant gloom and silence in the room.

Anthill? something in his head asked quietly. Finrod moved unhappily, shifting to a more comfortable position. Yes, an anthill. Beor once told him how Edain extracted information from orcs. What's strange here?

The voice fell silent and disappeared, leaving behind something that could be interpreted as "we'll talk about it later." Finrod nodded. Yeah. Later.

Or he will switch to the wet sheepskins and how they, while drying, slowly break the bones of those who continue to bother him with unnecessary questions. Now, please stroke my hair.

Finarfin chuckled softly, and Finrod almost imagined his surprised smile. Hmm. It was good. Tamion will bring the food. And you're not going anywhere from here. You will stay with me all night. If i can't know how the hell I appeared here, then I'm going to get everything out of this situation. Artanis will be jealous.

The memory of Artanis echoed in unexpected pain. Oh. Exactly. Has Finarfin not seen her for at least half a millennium? So what. She' s still a pain. Why do you need Artanis, when I'm right here, Finarfin?

He blinked contentedly as his father's mind responded with a vibrating warmth. Of course you're right here. My little golden prince. Does your heightness want something?

Finrod closed his eyes completely, relaxing. He won't think yet. He has a father. He has a bed. Thamion will bring food. He will think tomorrow. Think, think and think.

We have a lot to talk about.

Yes, Finrod agreed, but before that you'll say that you love me more than Artanis.

Thamion balanced two plates on his hands and a third on his head. No, he couldn't ask for help from the servants. Yes, that was his mission. Yes, most likely it will turn into a catastrophe, and he will end up with three plates of food on the floor, but hey. It'll be fun.

He just can't tell Arafinwe or that little pain of his that somehow came back from the dead. Thamion had a reputation to maintain.

The same reputation he thoughtlessly spoiled before the servants. Well. Now he will have the reputation of a clown balancing a bowl of soup on his head.

He just couldn't let Arnie know about it, because there is nothing worse than when your wife finds out about your noble proffesion of a clown.

The wife in question mercilessly broke into his mind, said that today she expected him to come home, and went out, doing the osanwe-equivalent of slamming the door shut. Out of the blue, Tamion almost tossed the plates over, sighed, called the servant (who found the scene very funny), and tasked him with delivering dinner to the prince's room. After thinking for a while, he moved his plate from his head to the windowsill.

Lahto's black robe flickered in the yard, and Thamion winced. The headache returned from the psychotherapy session.

One can only hope that this idiot will not go straight to the prince's room. But hey, they're elves. Hope is their second nature.

The soup was a good dinner.

First, because it could be drunk.

Second, because it was warm.

Third, the last time Finrod ate soup was in Nargothrond. In general, the last time he ate normal food was in Nargothrond. In Sauron's cellars, he was stuffed with dirty water and something Finrod's mind refused to remember. It was probably a stew of rotten potatoes.

In fact, it didn't matter then, because when your friends are eaten by a werewolf, the form in which you are given calories does not matter at all.

Finarfin, who was sitting on the floor by the bed, froze, and Finrod belatedly remembered that they were still bound by Osanwe.

Ahem. Well. This was not his problem.

A werewolf?

Ahem. Finrod set the plate aside. Uhm. I want to sleep.

What the hell, Arato.

Good night, Dad :D

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

Text

He Who Sings Against Gods - Part Four

[part one] [part two] [part three]

Chapter Four

Acceptance

The sun was shining brightly. The fountain quietly rang with water. Arafinwe sighed as he approached the stables.

Thamion was already waiting for him, smiling softly and keeping his horse ready.

"Did everything go well?"

The king was silent, watching the advisor giving orders with a sideways glance. Thamion followed his gaze, nodded silently, handed him the reins, and jumped on his horse. Under Lahto, it was better not to let go of one's tongue - he had a stupid habit of being where he was not expected and hearing what was not said to him; and all that Lahto heard, he laid out directly on the table of the Valar.

Arafinwe jumped into the saddle, spurred the animal - Ruive, he will call it Ruive - and left the gates of the palace.

Tirion was noisy and sunny. Arafinwe used to be happy about that (Eru, he used to worry so much that Noldor would never be able to recover from the riot), but now he felt nothing but fatigue.

The palace (not ceremonial, but the one in which Arafinve lived) was a quarter of an hour's drive from Tyrion, in the suburbs. He belatedly thought that it would be worth visiting his mother - they had not seen each other for a long time - but he was too far to return. Moreover, she could visit him while he was in town.

Maybe it's for the best. Lately, every conversation with the mother has turned into a quarrel.

He could already imagine her shouting at him again. He did not tell her about Arato. He didn't even write her a letter. It will make her angry.

"... Ingo? Ingo, were you even listening? "

Arafinwe shuddered as he returned to reality. They have already left the city. They will be home in less than eight minutes. The sun was scorching, drying the moisture from the storm.

Thamion looked at him anxiously. Arafinwe lowered his eyes. He wasn't listening.

"I'm sorry. Did you ask something?"

"How was it?"

Ah. Yes. He didn't answer the question.

"I was there for absolutely nothing. Stood there like a beautiful scenery. All I had to do was nod my head in agreement," he exhaled through his teeth. "And to practice self-control, because some of our aristocrats decided to push my nervous system to suicide. How is he? "

Thamion chuckled, but decided not to push further. A shadow flashed across his face as he saw a wave of concern on the king's face at the last question.

"He regained consciousness," he hurried to assure him. "And I'm sure he's still within it. Ara, I have to tell you something."

"Hm?"

"The Judge's servants came. Two of them."

"Did you send them away?"

"I... threw them out of your son's bedroom window."

"Out of WHERE?"

Thamion hurried to hold his horse as Ruive growled in fright and Arafinwe stared at him in horror. Horror was replaced by fear, fear by anxiety, anxiety by determination.

"Thamion."

The elf sighed, letting the horse walk slowly, allowing Arafinwe to ride aside and pretending not to notice his piercing gaze.

"Thamion," the king repeated, and the elf sighed.

"I made it at time. A minute later, and they would overcome him."

Arafinwe fell silent. Thamion too.

Somewhere in his head, he thought he should've been there. He should've been careful that this did not happen to Findarato.

Arafinwe looked away from him and spurred his horse. Thamion touched the king with Osanwe and sighed with relief when his consciousness did not respond with icy cold.

'Ara?... He's fine. I left a healer with him. You can visit him anytime.'

Arafinwe looked down at him and nodded slowly. Then he lowered his mind's wall, gently pushing Thamion out of his consciousness.

Thamion smiled slightly. Then they rode in silence.

***

"Findarato- Findarato, I don't know how to tell you, but you died."

By the Void, it was logical. IT WAS LOGICAL. That was what Finrod should've known. The elves are resurrected. Elves are bound to Arda by fate. Wounds heal, body heals, the spirit strengthens. He knew it all.

But while knowing is one thing, experiencing it on your own skin is something completely different.

When Thamion - Thamion, a meter away from him, Thamion at hand's reach told him this, everything fell into place. Everything became clear.

The crunch of bones on the teeth of a werewolf. The taste of blood in his throat, darkness in his eyes.

Everything was so simple! So clear! He died! He died and rose again! It was the most natural thing in all of Arda!

Finrod didn't understand when he burst into hysterical laughter, when his eyes filled with tears, when there was no air in his lungs.

The room was cloudy. Thamion's face was blurred. The floor and ceiling changed, swirled, darkened, and he dug his hands harder into the chair, and-

He felt Thamion's fingers on his temples, and something clicked, and...

It was dark. Not like then, in the basement. It was... good darkness, and it wasn't even that dark, and it was slowly dissipating, and... thoughts were no longer swirling in an uncontrollable vortex.

He could hear himself breathing.

He was still crying - he could feel the tears on his cheeks. He knew what Thamion did - after Bragollach, Edrahil often did the same. Manipulating consciousness, separating the soul from the outside world for a second, giving him time to recover without breaking into an uncontrolled Song.

Usually Finrod could control his panic attacks, but sometimes fear and panic were so strong, and he himself was so unprepared, that locking him in his own body for a few seconds was the safest solution. Was it humane? Hardly. Did he and Edrahil have time to come up with something better? No.

If Finrod had more strength, he would ask himself why Thamion knew this trick, and if he allowed himself to think about it a bit longer, he might've become worried about his father. But Finrod was too tired for that.

All Finrod could do was lie down, look at the bed, and hope it was all a dream, and he would wake up in a dark basement, because then he would have hope.

There was no hope in this place.

***

Deep down, Arafinwe was grateful to Thamion. For watching over Arato and protecting him. For coming to meet him in the city, for being all these years by his side.

However, on the surface, Arafinwe was tired. He was afraid. He feared for his people, constantly covering them from Valar. He was worried for everyone who was once dear to him. For Eärwen, for his mother. Worried about Findis and Nerdanel. Worried about Irimë. About Findarato. Findarato, Findarato, what did they do to him?..

Sometimes it seemed that Arafinwe built himself around anxiety for others. His task from childhood was to protect, heal, reconcile, and anticipate. Why was he so bad at it?

He handed Ruive over to the groom, lost in his thoughts again. He kept reaching for Findarato, trying to imagine the moment of the meeting.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

Thamion inadvertently touched his hand as they walked down the hall; Arafinwe shuddered, returning to reality, reacting to the touch. I'm with you. I'm here. We will go through this together.

He wanted to grab his hand, hold him close and not move until the fear passed - but the king just gritted his teeth instead.

The door to the room opened, releasing the healer, who bowed in confusion and hurried away. Arafinwe inhaled and walked quietly into the room.

Finrod shuddered as he felt someone enter the room and stand by his bed. If he had gathered his strength, he could have turned to take a look at the guest.

But why? What would be the point?

It was probably Thamion. Perhaps he brought a potion, food, or water.

He lowered all the walls and all the shields. He didn't want to fight. He was too weak to fight.

Arafinve looked at his son, who didn't even looked at him when he entered. He sat down by the bed, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Then he softly hummed the lullaby.

Finrod's eyes widened. He squeezed the sheet tightly.

It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream.

It was a simple lullaby, quiet and uncomplicated-

It was a lullaby that-

He shivered as he tried to turn on the other side. Someone's hands immediately fell on him, helping, supporting- strong, careful hands-

He met the gaze of the elf, saw his anxious gray eyes, golden hair-

An unsolicited sob escaped his throat.

"Dad?"

#father son reunion lets go #finarfin #arafinwe #finrod #findarato ingoldo artafinde finrod felagund #finarfin is mother hen and i do not take criticism #someone get this elf a therapist #i may or may not write a drabble about finarfin because man i love him #silmarillion #tolkien #tolkien fic #he who sings against gods

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

Text

He Who Sings Against Gods - Part Three

[part one] [part two]

Chapter Three

The Memories

When he wakes up, his thoughts still don't want to stick together, anxiety appearing and disappearing in the corners of his mind every now and then.

He was tired. All he wanted was to close his eyes and fall asleep again.

He stared at the ceiling, and a quiet suspicion scratched his head. This is not Nargothrond.

Nargothrond's ceilings are high and domed, carved with masterful ornaments, decorated with gold and silver. They are not carved out of white stone, they are not painted with frescoes, they are not so - not so flat...

And this is not Tol-Sirion; Sauron wouldn't give him such honors; even if he did, Minas Tirith was built as a fortress, and there was no such... luxury.

The memory of Minas Tirith woke him up and filled him with pain.

Edrahil died. Edrahil is dead, and he didn't protect him. He doesn't even have a body - Edrahil...

And Beren? What about Beren?

What happened?

Why is he alive?

He remembers the pain. Remembers stinking teeth digging into flesh. He remembers the taste of blood - the blood of a werewolf running down his throat; he remembers his eyes clouded by darkness; he remembers Beren's cry, full of anger, fear, despair... Eru, let him be alive. Let him be alive.

Finrod inhaled, closed his eyes, and sat down carefully. His eyes darkened, trying to adjust to the upright position.

He was thirsty.

Finrod slowly stood up. He staggered, but stayed on his feet. Elf looked around carefully, studying the interior.

The room was done in pastel blue tones, and it was luxurious. He stared at the ceiling. The frescoes depicted the heavens; Finrod noted the naturalness with which the painter depicted the depth of light clouds, the play of sunlight, and the sky's colors. He allowed himself to become immersed in fantasy, deciding which hall in Nargotrond he would decorate similarly; he would undoubtedly need to find a master, offer him a job...

He shuddered, noticing a movement in his side view.

Mirror. It was just a mirror.

Finrod stared at his reflection.

That was his reflection, wasn't it?

That was his face, his eyes, his hair - but that's not him, that's not - he... Maybe it's the expression of the eyes, maybe the posture, maybe-

Scars. He reached for the shirt collar.

Torn, nasty scar - on the neck and chest - as if...

It was as if he had been torn to pieces and sewn back together.

Finrod had scars. One after Helcraxe, when he failed to step on the right spot and cut his leg. One - after a failed sparring match with Beor, when the man inaccurately calculated the blow (Finrod appreciated this scar, thin, pale, and almost invisible - he unconsciously reached for his shoulder to see if it was still there). Several others - after skirmishes with orcs.

He always considered his scars a reason to joke. Something you don't need to pay attention to, but this - he couldn't survive this.

Why is he still alive???

***

The wind rustled softly in the leaves of the trees. Mithon froze warily as the sounds of distant conversation touched his ears.

Astoner sighed.

"I still don't understand why the Lord can't just order him to obey," the Maya hissed. "After all, he's just an elf."

Mithon growled, sliding his eyes to the window.

"Did you forget how crazy Arafinwe acted?" Maya snorted, rising at the crown of the tree and climbing to the window. "Trying to take Artafinde from him - by the Void, sorry for the blasphemy, but I would rather try to demand Silmarills from Feanaro."

Astoner laughed. Mithon smiled as he opened the window.

He told himself it should be much easier than taking Arafinwe's precious stone from an enraged king. They'll just come in, take Findarato and-

At first glance, it was clear that everything would not work out just as planned. At least because Findarato was conscious.

Finrod shuddered, feeling the breath of the wind. He turned to the window -

Mayar. They were Mayar. What in the Void. What in the Void were Mayar doing in Beleriand???

They moved like two cats, their eyes fixed on him warily; the elf stepped back hesitantly, instinctively reaching for his sword, and gritted his teeth, realizing that he had no weapon.

It should have been easy. It was not difficult for Mithon to envelop the elf's mind with spells like with a cobweb; all he needed was to pull the strings, and the elf would squint, fall into his arms like a lifeless doll...

Finrod staggered, but did not fall. Instead, his eyes flashed with rage. He ran his mind through the spell, found the attacker—and hit him.

Like a minstrel his harp. Like lightning in a storm. Like the sword hitting an armor, hammer hitting iron - Mithon swayed, not having time to shut his mind closed, immersed in a whirlwind of images, emotions, and visions that fiercely swirled around him, knocked the spirit out of him, formed a ringing melody -

Astoner shouted, rushed to the elf, grabbed him, closing his mouth. Finrod squeaked, trying to break free from his tenacious cold hands, but his body was weak and his eyes darkened with fatigue and his ears were ringing -

He put too much effort into the Song. Too much...

"By the Void!.."

Astoner had no time to respond. Someone flew into the room, tore him away from the prince, and threw him aside.

Finrod sank to the ground helplessly. His body trembled with tension.

"Uh-oh," someone said softly as they approached the Mayar, grabbed them by the collar, and lifted them off the ground. "What is it? Attacking the sick? "

The spirits, surprisingly, did not resist - one was stunned by the blow of a stranger, and the ears of the other were still ringing with a fierce song. The elf strode to the window."

Do you have any brain left in your excuse for a head? Eru, this is a political scandal! You want a political scandal, you bastards? " He threw them out the window, first Mithon and then Astoner. Mayar screeched in horror, shuddered, turning into crows, and flew into the sky. "You idiots! Say hello to Namo! "

He closed the window, carefully inspecting each lock, sighed, and drew the curtains.

It was close, too close to be ignored.

Finrod leaned against the locker and got up. Well, he did not faint. That was good.

The stranger turned to him - for a second, his face seemed painfully familiar, as if... as if...

The elf had brown hair and soft gray eyes. He approached Finrod, supporting him as he swayed again.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, and oh, Void, the memories pierced his mind again, too fast to hold on to. Finrod took a sharp breath.

"What happened?" His voice sounded quieter, quieter than he would've liked it to be.

The elf helped him into a chair, walked away, and returned with a glass of water. His face grew serious.

"It's not Nargothrond," Finrod said, taking the glass from his hands. "And I'm pretty sure it's not Hithlum."

"It's not Nargothrond or Hithlum," the elf agreed, looking intently at Finrod. "Findarato, do you remember me at all?"

Finrod froze, staring into the stranger's face, and suddenly his eyes widened.

"Thamion," he exhaled, squeezing into his chair. "T- Thamion..."

You stayed in Valinor, he wanted to say, you stayed with my father, what in the Utumno did you forget in Beleriand ---

"You look like you saw a ghost," Thamion commented. "Findarato - Findarato, I don't know how to tell you, but you died."

#silmarillion #tolkien #fic #tolkien fic #fanfiction #valinor #finrod #findarato ingoldo artafinde felagund #finrod to andreth: yeah elves kinda ressurect #finrod the second he is ressurected: what the hell what the hell what the hell what the hell - - -#also Valinor is baroque and Beleriand is gothic change my mind #no protective dad finarfin for today sorry #maiar #they got yeeted lol #he who sings against gods

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

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Finrod: "An oath I too shall swear, and must be free to fulfill it, and go into darkness. Nor shall anything of my realm endure that a son should inherit."

Arafinweans:

Galadriel: wow, that was depressing. But, like, for real, you can't possibly not have someone who's head over the heels for you! I mean, you're probably the most wanted party in Beleriand!

Finrod:

Finrod: Artanis, I'm engaged.

Arafinweans:

Galadriel: YOU'RE WHAT

Finrod: i mean- yeah? amarie?? rings any bells??

Galadriel: AMARIE. YOU MEAN YOUR BEST FRIEND AMARIE. AMARIE OF THE VANYAR.

Aegnor: wait. so you're saying you and amarie were engaged the whole time????

Galadriel: FINDARATO INGOLDO ARTAFINDE FINROD FELAGUND ARE YOU SAYING YOU WERE ENGAGED WITH AMARIE OF THE VANYAR. THE WOMAN WHO BABYSAT ME FROM MY CRADLE. THE WOMAN WHO YOU ALWAYS INTRODUCED AS YOUR FRIEND

Finrod: we've been literally planning to get married?

Angrod: YOU WERE??!??!?????!

Finrod: OF COURSE WE WERE?? WHAT DO YOU THINK WE'VE BEEN DOING?!

Galadriel:

Galadriel: Finrod. My beloved, my dearest Finrod. for how many centuries have you been planning to get married exactly?

Angrod: DUDE WHAT THE HELL WE THOUGHT THAT WAS A RUNNING JOKE?? WITH YOU CALLING HER "MY BELOVED" AND ALL THAT????

Finrod: what do you MEAN you thought that was a running joke WE'VE BEEN LITERALLY KISSING HOLDING HANDS AND ALL THAT

Angrod: WHAT

Angrod: for fiVE CENTURIES----

Galadriel: YOU HAVE BEEN K I S S I N G ????????

Finrod: YES ARTANIS WE HAVE BEEN KISSING WHY DOES THIS SHOCK YOU SO MUCH

Angrod: FINROD YOU DO REALISE YOU'VE JUST RUINED MY CHILDHOOD RIGHT

Aegnor: i have so many questions and all of them start with why and how

Finrod: I SWEAR I HATE ALL OF YOU. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE I DON'T WANT TO KNOW Y'ALL

#tolkien #silmarillion #finrod #galadriel #amarie #angrod #aegnor #this is my cracky take on why no one knew finrod and amarie were dating #i mean edrahil knew but at that point he just wished they'd get a room

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

Text

two interactions in werewolf au that are totally different but have the same vibes

Maedhros: aren't you supposed to be like. dead

Luthien: duh? things change. keep up 💅

and

Turgon, during the Nirnaeth: FINDARATO INGOLDO ARTAFINDE FELAGUND YOU'VE GOT SOME MAJOR EXPLAINING TO DO YOU ACTUAL BAFOON

Finrod:

Finrod, sweating: look it's complicated

#werewolf au

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

Text

When Stars are Close (The Home is Far Away)

[my take on a StarWars!Finrod, inspired by @arafinweanappreciation post]

The Holocron activates with a single touch. It's Force signature is hesistant, but it's longing and curious. A person appears; their gender is hard to tell, but under further inspection it's possible to conclude that he's a male from unknown species, similar to humans. He has pointy ears, his expression is frowning.

So... I just. Start talking. Right. That's it?

He exhales.

It's weird. Guys, I could have simply wrote a book. Instead I'm staring at my own self. But blue. Like - like a mirror.

So- um. The council told me to just start talking. It's... supposed to help me? Help them. Understand me.

So, uh. Name's Finrod. Or Nom. Finrod Findarato Artafinde Ingoldo Nom Felagund, from the Third House of Noldor. Uh- king of Nargothrond, if we're going with titles. Or- wait, am I king if I kind of un-kinged myself? That's- that's a story for another day, I suppose.

Uh, oh, right, that doesn't really matter because it's not like there's another Nargothrond or something. Sorry for, um, wasting your time on that nonsense. Right, so I'm an Elda. Or Elf. As long as I know, this galaxy doesn't... have... any? Oh Eru, it's really weird, saying "this galaxy", isn't it. Yeah, right, to the point.

I'm... kind of... not from here.

The place i'm from is... wait, how you'd call it? Underdeveloped? Man, that's rude. We're pretty developed. The only reason we're not building skie- skyscrapers or space... ships is because we mind our business inside of Arda. So yeah, we don't have tech... nology... man, Feanor would have so much fun with this words... But like, we're good. Uh, and I'm pretty sure our Arda is flat. Shut. It is. I literally had no idea what horizon means until I came here. Man, round planets are so weird?

Anyways, to how I came here.

I, um... died.

There's a pause.

So... yeah, sorry, it's not the prettiest memory I have. But, like, it's fine. Dying. In Arda. If you're an elf. We, just kind of, ressurect. I had a friend who fell of the horse and broke his neck and died. Came back in like, ten days. I'm- I'm pretty sure he had a good time? Namo gave him cookies. My theory is that since he was a child, he didn't have a sorrow to heal from. Just general confusion.

Finrod frowns.

Don't... don't think he had the same luck the second time, though. Since... kinslaying and doom and all that... stuff.

So- yeah, technically speaking. I should be dead. Even though my elven nature allows me to ressurect. I- my kin- Noldor- we- uh- oh Eru-

Man, it's complicated. To simplify, the Big Bad in my world stole three gems my uncle was really... obsessed with, killed the source of light in the world, killed my grandpa and. Ran. Then my uncle - half-uncle - kind of went mad and... um... stole ships. Killing their owners first. Which was... a big deal since we didn't have wars back then. Plus, the owners were my relatives. So, uh, yes, he was preparing to sail in them but then the god of doom appeared and said that we're doomed, pun intended. Basically, anyone who goes with him will experience sorrow and pain and death. And won't ressurect. He sailed either way, but there wasn't enough ships so we were waiting on the shore but then boom. He burned them. Oh man, you don't really need such details, do you?

Anyways, onto the next point? The Jedi say I'm open to Force. Force being magic. Oh come on, Mace, it flows in everything that's alive. That's basically our Great Song. Back in Arda you can master it, if you happen to be an Elf or a Dwarf. It... we use it when forging or smithing or singing or speaking. We have... spells? I guess? It takes time to master, but it's not like elves suffer from the lack of it, really. (Chuckles.) Um... we don't divide it into dark or light side, though.

You see, using the Dark side... uh. Our analogy is the Dissonance. It's a part of the Great Song, though; when creating the World - Arda - Ea - the Big Bad - oh my, I'm calling Moringotto "the Big Bad" next time I see him - the Big Bad decided to create its own Song, so that's where all the evil stuff originates from.

Yeah, we don't divide magic into "Light" and "Dark" because we don't use Dissonance. But, like... if we're going with Jedi teachings, there's a Dark inside our Light.

Yep. (Smiles. The smile is nothing but friendly.) Uh, for example, the Songs of Power. It's... it's heavily based on emotions and manipulating. Of course, there's more to it, don't worry! But-

When I was singing-

Man, I- I really had to go into that, didn't I.

Anyways, the Song is more to that: you can make people warm with it; you can heal; you can charm people; but... when it comes to the Battle of Wills- the Battle of the Songs-

There's very little holding you. Every emotion is a spare bit of Power. Every memory is a source of the Song. It's... You have to weave your Song carefully, though.

I... I didn't.

Cost me greatly, didn't it. (Shrugs.) I... built it on the wrong thing.

But, like... I'm pretty sure I culd've been considered a Dark user in that moment. Or no! (Laughs.) If somebody saw me, I'd be appearing as a beacon of light compared to the thing- power- person I was fighting.

Sauron's kind of a stinky guy. (Laughs louder.) He would probably be considered a Sith. A Dark Lord, even.

Um- is a person still considered Jedi or Sith if they were basically the Power of the World? Oh, you don't have those? Um. Pretty sure he's a Dark Lord, then.

Pause. Then, under his breath:

The Dark Lord sounds cool, though. I wanna be a Dark Lord.

Oh my- I was joking. I was literally killed by the man, I want nothing but to kill him in return.

Oh- that's a bad thing? Op, yep, revenge, sorry, just slipped. Still wanna kill him, but whatever. A bunch of dudes in the robes who are also two millenias yonger then me won't let me. Sure, sure, let the kids play adults.

Oh my God, Mace, I am joking. But you know what, let me get a Dark Lord to kill you so I can talk to you in the afterlife.

Brothers and sisters in Song, don't speak to me of revenge if you didn't get yourself killed. I'm proclaiming it a touchy subject. I'll get all sad and upset if you try to talk me out of it.

Oh, yeah! Forgot to mention, I'm immortal, if another Dark Lord doesn't decide that I'm a delicious breakfast for his werewolves.

Um- guys. It's alright. Traumatic experience, but I'm alive, am I not? Yoda, you tell them.

Oh- Yoda, for Morgoth's sake. It's fine. I killed that werewolf, too. It's not like it's eaten me whole, I was exaggerating. That was a pretty badass moment, actually! I kind of broke my chains and saved my friend and-

... oh. Now I'm sad and stuff. I have no idea if I saved him or if I just gave him a few hours of spare time.

Another reason to figure out how to get me back faster, right?..

The next recording starts with Finrod being silent for a minute. Then, he takes a sharp breath. He was crying.

I- I miss them.

There's... Council isn't listening on this one, but they said I can use it, so-

I miss them so much it hurts.

I- I miss Father. Atya. He... he was smart. Wise. I- I miss him, gods, why do I miss him so damn much- and... mother, my dear mother, oh-

He stops. A silenced cries can be heard.

I- I had two brothers. They... they died, they... burned to crisps- I- I identified Aegnor's body because Andreth was layng beside him, she... didn't... didn't burn all the way- and Angrod- he- he had a sword in his chest and- his hair- there was only face left- oh- I- I wasn't in time- I-

A pause.

I... still have Artanis and Orodreth- or- had. Oh, I miss them. I want. I want to see them. I want to say Orodreth that he'll manage. Want to bicker with Artanis one more time. Oh, Eru- gods- Force- am I asking for too much?!

I... I wonder. I wonder if he's alive. If Beren's alive. If my death didn't go in vain. It-

Edrahil. Gods, I miss you, Edrahil, please- Force, if you want to syphon someone else- let it be him, please, I need- he always-

And Amarie, my Amarie, my gold, my lady, my-

Why are attachments considered bad?

Does attachment equal love?

I- I love them. I love them.

I love them, I love them, I love them-

Same words continue in broken whispers. Eventually, the recording dies out.

I love them.

I don't know why, but it matters.

They call me, Yoda.

Finrod's face looks as if it's carved from stone.

Every day.

It starts with Father. He calls me. He wants me back.

Then there's Artanis.

And Turgon.

They all call me.

Yoda, If I can hear them, it means there's a way out.

The new recording starts. Finrod is looking past the frame.

They are magnificent. Gods - Varda, they are magnificent.

I have never seen stars this close.

Oh... It's like- they're liquid. Oh, I should've guessed. Liquid! Oh, they're wonderful. Oh my-

Hah, right, Qui, we elves are obsessed with stars, it's just-

Have I ever told you of the Awakening?

It's a beautiful story. I heard it from Grandfather. He was one of the Awaken.

When we first opened our eyes, Qui, the first thing we've seen were stars.

I hear them.

They are close.

In every star. In every string of the Melody.

They call me, and their calls are like a song.

Yes, Qui, I am sentimental. I would like to see you in my shoes.

I am going home.

I swore I'll be back, Qui.

And when I swear, I don't do it lightly.

Thank you.

For stars.

For Force.

I am going home, Qui.

I am going home.

Holocron holds no more recordings.

As long as Qui-Gon knows, Finrod found those who were calling for him.

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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

Text

He Who Sings Against Gods - part two

[part one]

Chapter Two

The Visions

Finrod spent the next few days on the verge of reality and dreams.

He'd wake up but pass out again. Sometimes he'd shout. Sometimes he'd cry.

At times, he had the sensation that someone was standing next to him, and he could hear fragments of conversation.

'... too weak...'

'... him alone!'

The voice seemed familiar to him, painfully familiar - it contained the anger of Angarato, the heat of Aikanaro, the steel of Artanis, kidness of Artaresto - all melted into a golden alloy, and he remembered, remembered, remembered, but then he was falling again...

'... he is my SON!'

Son, son, son, his thoughts picked up, twisting him in a whirlwind of images. Findarato dug his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold on, and inhaled hoarsely.

"You-"

There was silence - now Finrod was sure it was silence. For a second, he heard only his own breath. Then, quick steps, the rustle of clothes.

"Get out."

The sound of closed doors. Silence.

Someone sat down next to him.

"Arato," the voice was soft, almost whispered. "Arato, can you hear me?"

His thoughts were repeated like parrots. Arato, Arato, Arato.

"O...rodret..."

It had to be Orodret... he found him... escorted him out... Orodret... 'You shouldn't have risked yourself this much', he needs to tell this to him later - later... later...

A cool hand falls on his face, and Findarato inhales hoarsely.

He doesn't remember the wolf, he doesn't remember the crunch of bones, he doesn't remember the blood on his teeth, he doesn't remember Beren. All there is is a quiet room and Orodret's soft, gentle hands.

It was madness. Arafinve didn't explain it otherwise. Madness.

He thought he was crazy when he saw the body on the edge of a sunflower field.

His son's body.

His dead son's body.

Arafinve remembered exactly when Findarato - when his Ingoldo, his little Arato died. He remembered how his ears filled with rumble, how tears welled up in his eyes, how instead of breathing, only deaf sobs were heard, how visions seized him, showing a dark, stinking basement, and fur in his mouth, and lungs that tried to breathe in with a rattle, and the smell of blood, and screams, screams, screams.

That's why Arafinve decided he was crazy. That grief eventually took over his mind. That he lost.

However, Findarato was here, painfully alive, and his crying was horribly real, and his screams -

He didn't remember how he flew up to his son, how he touched his face with trembling hands. He tore off his cloak, wrapped Arato in it, and pressed him to his chest, still not believing, still not...

Findarato had a fever. He raved, often screaming; he trembled, crying.

Arafinve shouted as soon as he run into the castle, calling for the best healer - who appeared, dissatisfied with the late rise, but became serious when he saw the king, noticed tears and despair in his eyes - when he saw whom his king pressed to his chest, too frightened to let go of them.

And oh, Eru, at this point, the last thing he needed was sleep.

He works side by side with his king, and they curse together, weave spells together, tremble together every time thunder cracks outside the window and Findarato - and the prince - screams, plunging again into the swamp of fever.

On his body, from his neck, on his stomach, to his legs, stretches a terrible torn scar, and his back is covered with bumps of - Eru. What could it possibly be???

They do not notice how the morning is approaching. The rain does not stop. They are grateful to Ulmo for this, although they know that it will not last long. The news of the resurrection - the first since Feanor's mother's time - will reach Valar faster than Tilion will ascend to heaven. And then the visits will begin.

The "guests" indeed arrive very soon. The first Mayar come with a desire to help. They look sincere. Arafinve pauses for a second before shaking his head. They come again and again until Arafinwe throws leaky buckets in their hands and sends them to get some water. They understand the hint.

Then, the next day, others come. Mayar of Feanturi. There are two of them, and they say calmly that the prince has not been completely healed, that he needs Lorien's gardens, but Arafinve would rather die than allow his son to be taken away. They come the next day, but this time they are talking about the punishment that will await Findarato in the event of Arafinwe's disobedience; they play on his fears, on his weaknesses. The king says... no, orders them to wait until Artafinde recovers.

They agree.

However, they do not stop pushing him, and when Arafinve approaches his son's room, a whisper is heard above his ear... a whisper of an adviser, no, of a spy; he begs him not to anger Valar, begs him not to be stubborn, begs...

But then Findarato wakes up.

Arafinve sits down at his son's bed, calls him - quietly, gently... who would have thought that a moment ago he was ready to remind Valar that he is still the brother of Feanaro, and tell them Mayar to go f... mind their own business?

"O... rodret," Findarato whispers, squeezing his hand. Arafinwe does not recognize the name.

But how can he recognize the name of his youngest son if he has never heard Sindarin in his life?

#silmarillion #fanfiction #tolkien #fic #angst #finrod #findarato ingoldo artafinde felagund #finarfin #protective dad finarfin #would he challenge those mayar to a rap battle if they tried to lay a finger on finrod? oh absolutely #Valinor #he who sings against gods #english isn't my first language #i used online tool trying to improve grammar and wording #but i suppose it's still far from good

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