#forgive me I bashed Maedhros and the Noldor
Text
Terms of Loving You
Pairing: Maedhros x Teleri Reader
Genre: angst
word count: 2.9k
Chapter 2
Summary: You lift your hands with great effort to tug at the slightly crooked ruby hairpin that sits heavily on your head, entangled by the silver locks surrounding it. It was a claim, to ward off others who seek you, to make you known as Nelyafinwe’s.
AN: I wrote this a long time ago so I tried my best to make it less cringe. I have a few headcannons about this fic so if you guys would like more lmk. (Dividers by @cafekitsune, they are amazing!)
You carefully put your spoon back on the table and stand up in a fluid motion. "High King, forgive me for the interruption, but letting go of my art for the sake of my affection for your grandson is not something I am willing to do," you say, addressing the whole table. The Noldor, known to be a prideful bunch, glare at you as if you've wandered into their territory. You turn to Maitimo, sitting next to you, avoiding eye contact.
"Then do you not value the love of my grandson? Does your love run so shallow as to be left for the pleasure of the mind?" Finwe's cold and loud voice rings in the room.
You stand still, discreetly stealing a look at your lover. There is a glimmer of hope in his gaze. "Is it not for my art that you fell in love with me, Nelyo? I hold it close to my heart, for it is the reason for our relationship, my love. It is a part of me, and dropping it to become the perfect wife for you would be a lie," you whisper softly, your voice trembling with fear of his answer. The conversation with the high king has transformed into one with Maitimo.
The grandest hall of Valinor feels like a prison cell at that moment. Suddenly, King Finwe's deep voice fills the room again, "Do answer me when I ask the question, princess! It is not becoming of royal women of the Noldor to dance or sing amongst the common folk of our subjects. Our norms are very different from the Telerin court. You must learn from your elder sister, Earwen, who now perfectly handles the role of a Noldor princess."
Your eyes wander from Maitimo to your sister sitting at the front of the table, next to her husband, Arafinwe, the third prince of the Noldor. Their eyes show panic, looking between you and the king. Arafinwe seems ready to stand up at any moment, whether to defend Earwen or to defend you is unknown to you.
Then you look at Feanor, Maitimo's father, and the ever-present light in his eyes shines brightly at that moment, as if challenging you to speak and make a mistake. You avert your gaze from Feanor to spare yourself from whatever he wants from you. The High King of the Noldor seems ignorant of all others in the room; his eyes pierce you as you stand there, flexing your hand. His face is red with rage, or perhaps the room has suddenly shrunk into darkness. In that room where people stare at you like a relic, Maitimo never looks at you. He never takes your hand to hold your trembling fingers.
"Maitimo, is the idea of a Telerin wife who does not sing or dance to any song agreeable to you? I respect the High King; however, no one in this room matters more than you, so please tell me," you say with a hint of desperation in your voice. A silent void engulfs your questions in the room. The irritation in your eyes suddenly feels like tears that you were previously unaware of. "Y/n… just sit down… don't," Maitimo's voice murmurs in the void.
"Alas, Princess, you know what my dearest grandson seeks from you. Now I hope we can continue this dinner, and soon I can share another celebratory drink with my dearest friend Olwe, your father," Finwe's words hold a certainty. His joy is ignorant of the inner turmoil of the people in question.
You suddenly feel trapped in a land so far away from your home by the sea. You miss your parents, siblings, and the simplicity of Teleri. At this moment, the Noldorian society seems to be a shattered mirror of all the grandiose they project.
You lift your hands with great effort to tug at the slightly crooked ruby hairpin that sits heavily on your head, entangled by the silver locks surrounding it. It was a claim, to ward off others who seek you, to make you known as Nelyafinwe’s. He had forged it. The first son of Feanor was not an excellent smith like his father.
The pin may not be fit for a princess, but it is precious to you, and you have worn it from the day it became yours. You harshly pluck the pin, ripping some strands of your hair. You don't know where the strength comes from, but you manage to take off the accursed brand that poses to take parts of you away. You clutch the pin so hard in your hands that it leaves indents on your hand. Even after all that, Nelyafinwe left his mark on you.
This commotion leads to noise at the table coming to a stop. Maitimo now looks at your hand that dangerously clutches the pin. He sits tense, ready to stop you from any harm that comes your way or the others. In his mind, he wonders if his lover will attack his grandfather with the hairpin.
"What is…" Finwe starts to speak, but you, in your surprisingly stable voice, overshadow his confusion. "If it is one between myself and my love for your grandson I must choose, then I choose myself. I cannot love someone who cannot love me to the core of who I am. I have given everything of myself in this relationship, and my art is not excluded from that." Maitimo jerks to finally look at you, who still holds the ruby hairpin. His eyes have a hysterical look just as he is about to speak when you take his hand and hand him his first courting gift.
The pin carries the warmth of your hand and the distant scent of the sea that you carry with you always. He sits there with the pin in his hand when you address him. "Prince Nelyafinwe, I return the gift that you gave me. Over the last twelve years, I have loved you with all my being. However… it seems you have not come to do the same. To save us both from the pain, I step back. Forgive me; I cannot give you what you yearn for, my prince." You straighten your back; Maitimo looks lost, unable to understand the words of his beloved.
Your eyes harden as you look at the room full of gasping Noldor, except for Feanor, who looks amused by the situation. Maitimo suspects that his father has something brewing in his cunning mind. "I, daughter of the high king of the Teleri, King Olwe, ask for you to leave, Your Majesty, the High King of the Noldor. Forgive me for my transgressions, for tonight has left me with a lot to think about." You bow and leave from the nearest door as if parched for fresh air after staying too long in the godforsaken hall.
"I'll escort the princess back to Alqualonde," Arafinwe jumps from his seat and rushes out with a blur of his blonde hair.
The shores of Alqualonde have never witnessed quiet with the prince and princesses lingering there, radiating the joy of youth. However, lately, it seems that the beaches have been cursed with a gloomy longing. The elves of old, who have traveled by sea to come to Valinor, feel a sudden longing for the shores of Cuvien, where they first woke up in Arda.
Olwe notices this change in his people and his household. Things have quieted down after Earwen's marriage, leaving a void in their hearts, but the rest of his children have kept the days merry with their presence. This is different from a sad farewell; this is a dismissal of lingering hope. In his mind, he suspects that this is you, his youngest. You are the one to frequent the shores most with your siblings or without them. The princess is nowhere in the palace, so her father decides to stroll to the shores to investigate this sudden sulking. Olwe chuckles, remembering the antics of his children in their childhood. His flowing white robes delicately draw behind him, untouched by the sand of the shore.
After wandering for some time, he finds you sitting on a jagged rock right by the sea. It is said that elven parents make children from a part of their fea, and they share a deep bond. This bond allows them to gauge their ward's emotions to some extent. At that time, Olwe feels such a strong sense of despair from his daughter that he sucks a sharp breath. In the deepest part of his mind, he has suspected that this has something to do with your visit to your sister in Tirion.
So, the High King of the Teleri slowly approaches his daughter, troubled by her troubles, as is the way of all parents. "Yonya, what atrocity has the sea whispered to you, for you to look so offended by it?" he carefully and as gracefully as he can with the long customary robes of the king, sits crossed-legged next to his daughter to settle on the jagged rock that is nowhere near comfortable.
"Attyo!! You scared me. I almost fell into the water, and that would really offend me," you turn to smile at your father. The High King of Teleri does not care for the pretentious display of grace and holier-than-thou art attitude. His people love him for that.
The High King smiles back at his ward. "Now tell me, yonya, what can this old elf do for you? Tell me your pains, and I shall make sure no one ever dares to offend the cherished Princess of Teleri." He hadn't meant to sound so carefree or jesting, but he is rarely sour of mood, and the High King of Teleri wants you to share anything with him on your own time, so he gives you a way out. His daughter wonders for a long time. A thoughtful silence is not what you are known for, and he grows slightly worried about the depth of the situation but maintains a peaceful smile.
"Atta, have you heard the new story that the bard recently told in one of the inns of our city?" Olwe shakes his head, he knows what route his daughter has chosen, and he is ready to give her what she wants. "Tell me about it, " You look at him and then continue looking towards the sea, as if afraid to give away more than you want. "The bard sang of a love story. Some unknown elleth fell in love with an ellon, who was in love with her too. They loved each other, but the elleth was denied her affections…" you pause, collecting your voice. Olwe contains himself from hugging you and easing the heartbreak you carry. Instead, he lets you continue.
"The ellon's family disapproved of their love, for the elleth was fond of writing stories and often poured her passion into the poems that the bards loved. The elleth considered her creations to be a part of her fea; they held immense value to her. The ellon did not stand up for his lover, and the elleth was too prideful to give up on her dream. Their courtship ended in a miserable fight, and they lived life longing for a love that could have been something amazing." You lean on your father's shoulder as if hiding away from the confrontation that you have laid bare in front of the ever-wise ocean.
Olwe holds his daughter tightly as he feels slight tremors in your shoulders accompanied by a wet patch on the shoulder of his robe. Still, he remains silent for you to finish speaking. "It is… is so tragic, atta, that it must end this way. So unfair… so… cruel of fate to the lovers."
The High King of Teleri knows his daughter has told him the truth about whatever is the cause of her sorrow. In the long years of raising his children, he has never hindered their interests. He has never let them be conformed to royal etiquette.
You love dancing, and it may seem obnoxious for a princess to dance, but the Teleri care not for such customs. The king is deeply wounded by the pain that his daughter suffers and will carry for the rest of her life. For the first time in a decade, the elf feels bone-chilling rage, for it is known that Eldar love only once in their lives, and someone has dared to curse his daughter for a lifetime of heartbreak.
#the silmarillion#tolkien elves#silmarillion#noldor elves#silmarillion x reader#angst#middle earth#romance#maedhros x reader#maedhros#teleri reader#forgive me I bashed Maedhros and the Noldor#did it for the drama
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SO SO SORRY BEING NEGATIVE IN YOUR ASKbox but
It's the fact that Elrond continued the tradition of honoring Thingol by naming his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir, as well as the canonical references of ways Elrond and Elros honored their parents (by wearing their colors, the symbols, and the names!), that makes me so so so salty about the way people never write Elrond being proud of his sindar lineage. It's always noldor this, feanorian star that, that has me reeling so much, its so popular that has me rolling my eyes and thats coming from a die-hard feanorian fan, like it gets exhausting when it keeps getting pushed that Elrond bashes his mom and dad and wears the symbol of his peoples murderers, as well as hate his moms lineage, like the book says he dont, what the hell?
gjkndsgkbjnb Anon you can only imagine the amount of salt I keep off this blog by being privately salty in DMs XD
But yeah I agree...at this point I'm veeeery hesitant to read any Elrond fic by Silm fans that hasn't been vetted and approved by someone I know because I'm so weary of coming across Feanorian Elrond and Elrond-who-literally-calls-Elwing-a-bitch and Elrond who gets angry with people who justifiably do not love the Feanorians, etc.
At the very least, these sorts of takes never seem to address the devastating cultural loss that Elrond and Elros experience. Even if we want to assume the best about Maglor's ability to raise them, he simply lacks the knowledge to make up for that. What does he know of Iathrim traditions? He never even saw Doriath, except when he showed up to kill everyone. What does he know of Edanic customs, or anything of mortal life? What does he know of Gondolin, where the distinction between Sindar and Noldor all but disappeared? Elrond and Elros are isolated from anyone who might be able to help them understand their parents' cultures and their own heritage (Gil-galad, Oropher, Cirdan, etc.) and so they grow up without that knowledge, and that's just always so sad to me. I'm sure it has an impact on Elrond's later interest in collecting knowledge.
All of this is compounded, of course, by the fact that Maglor and Maedhros are quite literally responsible for the virtual extinction of the Iathrim and the total destruction of the unique culture at the Havens of Sirion.
yadda yadda opinions under the cut
These takes also rarely reckon with how disturbing Feanorian Elrond is from an assimilation perspective. Here we have a couple of young children, from a culture whose people have already been attacked, slaughtered, and driven from their homelands by the Feanorians, who experience a second such attack from those same people, who lose their parents, who are taken from any other adult in their lives who might have nurtured them, by two people who know nothing about their culture(s)...and it's supposed to be cute, the idea that Elrond prefers to speak Quenya? It's supposed to show how he ~loved~ Maglor, that he was raised so alienated from his own cultures that he prefers that of his kidnappers, of his family and people's murderers (the very people who so alienated him)? It's actually really, really sad.
And obviously these takes rarely genuinely address the trauma that Maedhros and Maglor caused Elrond and Elros, or the ongoing trauma of being raised by the people with the blood of your mother and your neighbors and your friends all over their hands. Sure, I can buy Elrond pitying them and even forgiving them eventually--but Feanorian Elrond who thinks they did nothing wrong feels like a joke.
I think of course that a large part of this is just because fans love the Feanorians and the Noldor and many of them are not interested in the Sindar (and Thingol is deeply unpopular, primarily for not getting along with the Feanorians), so they are not interested in exploring Elrond's canonical attachment to his Sindar heritage and the line of Thingol. Which is too bad! I love the Sindar and I think it's great that Elrond's biggest attachment to his heritage is to the Umanyar part, not the Amanyar part, and Elros' to the mortal part, not the immortal part. They both chose what some might (wrongly) call the "lesser" part of their heritage, and I love them for that.
In many cases I think Elrond is used as a morality pet for Maedhros and Maglor, in that if Elrond, beloved the world around, adores and champions and defends the Feanorians, then no one can defensibly dislike them. Which circles back into something about discourse surrounding liking ~problematic~ characters...you CAN actually admit the Feanorians committed multiple mass slaughters and stole two children (and killed a minimum of two others) and still like them. I do.
But also, as someone else on tumblr more eloquently pointed out, even if Elrond did feel something like this...he's tactful enough to be aware how much pain and suffering the Feanorians caused the Elves of Middle-earth, and he would never shove the Feanorians in their faces or think it was funny to watch them flinch hearing a Feanorian accent (a h/c I've actually seen) (apart from the fact that I really doubt the Feanorians continued using the thorn past the first few decades in Middle-earth).
To me, Feanorian Elrond just comes across as a clumsy attempt to redeem Maglor and Maedhros and I'm not interested in that, at the end of the day. I'm far more interested in Elrond's complicated relationship with them and his willingness or desire to hold them to account for the reality of what they did to him and his family, while also reckoning with his childhood attachment to the only adults he was permitted to grow attached to.
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