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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

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gurguliare · 7 years

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CONGRATS @vardasvapors YOU’VE UNLOCKED UNASKED-FOR FOURTH OPTION ‘liveblog the entire Wanderings of Húrin, because I haven’t read it in nearly two years’

Twenty-eight years Hurin was captive in Angband, and at his release was in his sixtieth year, but great strength was in him still, in spite of the weight of his grief, for it suited the purpose of Morgoth that this should be so. He was sent under guard as far as the east-marches of Hithlum, and there he was let go free.

None that had known him [in] youth could mistake him still, though he had grown grim to look on: his hair and beard were white and long, but there was a fell light in his eyes. He walked unbowed, and yet carried a great black staff; but he was girt with his sword. Great wonder and dread fell on the land when it was noised in Hithlum that the Lord Hurin had returned. The Easterlings were dismayed, fearing that their Master would prove faithless again and give back the land to the Westrons, and that they would be enslaved in their turn. For watchmen had reported that Hurin came out of Angband.

'There was a great riding,' they said, 'of the black soldiers of Thangorodrim over the Anfauglith, and with them came this man, as one that was held in honour.'

Hey do you think the flamelike spirit that burns in Maedhros and makes him heal rapidly is ALSO a Morgoth bequest. Like does he heal super fast because his strength was of the ancient world or because Morgoth just unlocked that key in his genome before hanging him up on the wall and never got a chance to turn it off

...anyway how great is hot indelibly recognizable 60yo Húrin, forever. He has exactly his dashing younger self’s button nose.

Also I can’t believe he left Angband with an escort of hundreds of orc riders. After going into Angband still plastered in the orc hands he lopped off. Hey? Remember that? What’s up, Húrin? Do you think when they left him outside Dor-lomin one turned around and waved

Thus freedom only increased the bitterness of Hurin's heart; for even had he so wished, he could not have roused any rebellion against the new lords of the land. All the following that he gathered was a small company of the homeless men and outlaws chat lurked in the hills; but they had done no great deed against the Incomers since the passing of Turin, some five years before.

Of Turin's deeds in Brodda's hall Hurin now learned from the outlaws the true tale, and he looked on Asgon {3} and his men, and he said: 'Men are changed here. In thraldom they have found thrall hearts.'

God I just. cannot. believe. Hurin picks up the refugees that Turin fucking ditched in the mountains, and that they’ve now been downgraded from the bravest survivors of the Dor-lomin occupation to, meh, outlaws. No great deeds since Turin went off. Gotta love that Hurin’s-eye-view: well, what use to me?

'Fear not!' he said. 'I should have needed no companions, if I had come to fight with you. I am come only to take leave of the lord of the land. I have no liking for it any more, since you have defiled it. Hold it while you may, until your Master recalls you to the slave-tasks that fit you better.'

Then Lorgan was not ill-pleased to think that he would so soon and easily be rid of the fear of Hurin, without crossing the will of Angband; and he came forward.

'As you will, friend,' he said. 'I have done you no ill, and have let you be, and of this I hope you will bring a true tale, if you come again to the Master.'

Hurin eyed him in wrath. 'Friend me not, thrall and churl!' he said.

FB FRIEND REQUEST DECLINED. Also I love Lorgan, um, instantly recognizing the cocktail of tsundere threats characteristic of normal Angband introductions. sigh.

‘Fare you ill!'

'Tol acharn!' said Hurin. 'Vengeance comes. I am not the last of the Edain, whether I fare ill or well.' And with that he departed, and left the land of Hithlum.

HAHAHAHA I LOVE HURIN GETTING IT RIGHT... KIND OF... but unfortunately “I am not the last of the Edain, whether I fare ill or well” goes both ways. vengeance will come whatever happens to him but. whatever happens to him will still be awful and unchanged regardless of the survival of his peopleeeeee

[Some have said that] maybe he knew not that Glaurung was dead, and hoped in his heart distraught to take vengeance on this evil thing - for Morgoth would conceal the death of Glaurung, if he could, both because the loss was a grief to him and a hurt to his pride, and because (from Hurin especially) he would conceal all that was most valiant or successful of Turin's deeds. Yet this can scarce be so, since the death of Glaurung was so bound up with the death of his children and revelation of their evil case; while the rumour of the assault of Glaurung upon Brethil went far and wide. Certainly Morgoth fenced men in Hithlum, as he was able, and little news came to them of events in other lands; but so soon as Hurin passed southward or met any wanderers in the wild he would hear tidings of the battle in the ravine of Taiglin.

ahahahahahaha of course part of Húrin hopes that Glaurung survives. I mean I agree it makes no sense but: Of Course He Does. He’s Húrin Thalion, greatest warrior of the Edain! Why else was he released?

His heart is hot against Thingol. He passes it [Doriath] by and goes on to Nargothrond. Why? To seek news, plunder, --- he had been an admirer of Felagund.

w h a t t h e f u c k

Sorry nothing to say here just. AN ADMIRER OF FELAGUND? EXCUSE ME? OH MY GOD... DO YOU THINK TURGON TOLD HIM (EXPURGATED) STORIES

When Hurin stood again in the high places he descried far away amid the clouds the peaks of the Crisaegrim, and he remembered Turgon; and his heart desired to come again to the Hidden Realm, if he could, for there at least he would be remembered with honour. He had heard naught of the things that had come to pass in Gondolin, and knew not that Turgon now hardened his heart against wisdom and pity, and allowed no one either to enter or to go forth for any cause whatsoever. Therefore, unaware that all ways were shut beyond hope, he resolved to turn his steps towards the Crisaegrim; but he said nothing of his purpose to his companions, for he was still bound by his oath to reveal to no one that he knew even in what region Turgon abode.

Nonetheless he had need of help; for he had never lived in the wild, whereas the outlaws were long inured to the hard life of hunters and gatherers, and they brought with them such food as they could, though the Fell Winter had much diminished their store. Therefore Hurin said to them: 'We must leave this land now; for Lorgan will leave me in peace no longer. Let us go down into the vales of Sirion, where Spring has come at last!'

I love: Húrin constantly half-consciously aping ‘human capable of hope’ speech patterns just so he can better lie to people. He’s good at lying now. He spent thirty years thinking Morgoth’s hand-me-downs, why wouldn’t he be. Also I love how explicitly negative earlier drafts are about Gondolin and “at least he would be remembered with honor,” another relatively normal human desire among the many parading ostentatiously in Húrin’s surface thoughts, and I love Húrin not able to cook OR farm. Amazing. Sucks to have social stratification, huh, honey.

Also the fact that he has this company of people following him and then he just ditches them to go find Gondolin adds SO MUCH RICHNESS to his plea outside Gondolin? Like whoa oh oh I’m so alone in the world all have spurned me and btw I basically catfished six guys until THEY would teach me how to fish

'The old man's wits are wild. He speaks with strange voices to shadows in his sleep.'

'Little wonder if it were so,' said Asgon. 'But who else could stand as straight as he, after such woe? Nay, he is our right lord, do as he may, and I have sworn to follow him.'

'Even east over the ford?' said the others.

'Nay, there is small hope in that way,' said Asgon, 'and I do not think that Hurin will go far upon it. All we know of his purpose was to go soon to Brethil, and that he has an errand there. We are on the very border. Let us seek him there.'

'By whose leave?' said Ragnir. 'Men there do not love strangers.'

'Good men dwell there,' said Asgon, 'and the [Master >] Lord of Brethil is kin to our old lords.' Nonetheless the others were doubtful, for no tidings had come out of Brethil for some years. 'It may be ruled by Orcs for all we know,' they said.

'We shall soon find what way things go,' said Asgon. 'Orcs are little worse than Eastrons, I guess. If outlaws we must remain, I would rather lurk in the fair woods than in the cold hills.'

The Rohan/Lothlorien/Fangorn mix with Brethil is real intense, though I mostly feel the Rohan parallels. But I also like the reminder that the Hadorians and the people in Dor-lomin really have the most human-centric existence of any society in Beleriand. The Haladin don’t necessary have close ties to particular elves but they’re tangled up in Orcs and a front line of defense against Orcs from the moment of their introduction, and they therefore feel more meshed into the fantastic wild of Beleriand as a whole, whereas the Hadorians really, almost, sorta had a self-contained fortified society from which to look out at the uncanny world, for a while there. Anyway, then with “Orcs are little worse than Eastrons” you got that simultaneous tasty racism and hard-to-resist humanization of Orcs from back at the beginning of time before Species Divisions were formalized beyond hope of unlearning, so, \o_o/ I guess

'To those of proved faith,' said Hardang. 'To be Edain is not enough alone.'

[...]

'This is my judgement. Here Turin son of Hurin dwelt for a time, and he delivered the land from the Serpent of Angband. For this I give you your lives. But he scorned Brandir, right Chieftain of Brethil, and he slew him without justice or pity. Therefore I will not harbour you here.'

LOL REVERSE OF Húrin’s propaganda machine “I am not the last of the Edain, whether I fare ill or well.” idk that I have much to say about the completely unstable shifting identities here but <3

Asgon, therefore, turned and went back towards Brethil; and the others followed him, for he had a stout heart and men said that he was born with good luck.

[...]

'Well, thy luck has held,' said Ragnir, 'for at least we are not slain, though we came nigh it. Now what shall we do?’

Rasgir/Asgon is a good ship I hope they had a nice time being lost in the woods forever

Thus Turin was the second cousin of Brandir on the 'Hadorian' side, and he was also his second cousin on the Haladin side; while in the 'Beorian' line he was Brandir's second cousin once removed - a genealogical situation to delight the heart of Hamfast Gamgee. Pointing out these relationships in an isolated note of this time, my father observed that 'Turin would be more readily accepted by the Haladin when his true name and lineage were known or guessed', since he was akin to their lords in these ways.

I’m very ... Emotion ... about Brandir being this barely-tolerated lord, son of a Beorian mother with a great big polarizing Hadorian strain as well, alternately prized by the other anxious part-Hadorians and viewed as an outsider by scared, bitter Haladin rival branches. Do I headcanon that Beldis put him on the Wise track at all?? I don’t know! I think I do! I don’t think she was a Wise-woman though she probably just gave him like, five poison berries once and a pat on the head

The only obscure point concerns the failure of Asgon's party to encounter Hurin on his return. My father was in two minds about this. The rejected fourth paragraph in C (p. 267) shows him (having decided that Asgorn and his men were not imprisoned) taking the view that they were ejected from Brethil near the Crossings: it is 'the captain of the Taiglin-guard' who restores their weapons; and they remain lurking in that neighbourhood. Thus they missed Hurin, 'who entered out of Dimbar' (i.e. came into Brethil from the north after crossing the Brithiach, as Asgorn had done). Hurin, he wrote, must not enter Brethil at the Crossings and be found lying beside the Haud-en-Elleth (as the story was already in the draft manuscript).

But he at once, and understandably, thought better of this, and (in the fifth paragraph) retained the existing story that Hurin was found by the guards near the Crossings; he said now that Asgorn and his men were put out of Brethil in the same region as they entered, and that they lurked 'near the eaves in that region' - hence their failure to meet with Hurin. But in the replacement passage B 2 (p. 265) he has them decide not to stay near the north eaves of the forest, and they go down towards the Crossings.

Tbh this. impossible continuity fuckup is my FAVORITE and instantly enshrined as Fairy-tale Meaningful in my mind, for no particular reason. Hurin went to the Crossings! Asgorn and his men headed down to the Crossings! HURIN IS TAKEN CAPTIVE AND THEY NEVER MEET AGAIN. Thanks, Connie Willis.

...he halted and looked about him in little hope. He stood now at the foot of a great fall of stones beneath a sheer rock-wall, and he did not know that this was all that was now left to see of the old Way of Escape: the Dry River was blocked and the arched gate was buried.(28)

Then Hurin looked up to the grey sky, thinking that by fortune he might once more descry the Eagles, as he had done long ago in his youth.(29) But he saw only the shadows blown from the East, and clouds swirling about the inaccessible peaks; and wind hissed over the stones. But the watch of the Great Eagles was now redoubled, and they marked Hurin well, far below, forlorn in the failing light. And straightaway Sorontar himself, since the tidings seemed great, brought word to Turgon.

But Turgon said: 'Nay! This is past belief! Unless Morgoth sleeps. Ye were mistaken.'

Obviously this is all in the Silm-silm but man the... stereoscopic movement from Húrin staring up at the mountains from way down below the cloud layer TO THE EAGLES, watching from ABOVE the clouds, seeing everything illuminated. What the fuck. Also I love the repeated “Unless Morgoth sleeps” phrase, ha ha ha ha, like Morgoth is a dragon and Húrin is his FAVORITE goblet (tru)

As darkness fell Hurin stumbled from the stone, and fell, as one aswoon, into a deep sleep of grief. But in his sleep he heard the voice of Morwen lamenting, and often she spoke his name; and it seemed to him that her voice came out of Brethil.

The waters of Cabed Naeramarth roared on, but he heard no sound and saw nothing, and he felt nothing, for his heart was stone within him, and he thought that he would sit there until he too died.

But there came a chill wind that drove sharp rain into his face; and he was roused, and anger rose in him like smoke, mastering reason, so that all his desire was to seek vengeance for his wrongs and for the wrongs of his kin, accusing in his anguish all those who ever had dealings with them.

He arose and lifted Morwen up; and suddenly he knew that it was beyond his strength to bear her. He was hungry and old, and weary as winter. Slowly he laid her down again beside the standing stone. 'Lie there a little longer, Edelwen,' he said, 'until I return. Not even a wolf would do you more hurt. But the folk of this hard land shall rue the day that you died here!'

So of course the “anger rose in him like smoke, mastering reason” passage is the only rival for Fingolfin’s last ride in my affections, I should have listed it as an alternative because they really are just, The Two Favs, but anyway: other things I’m into here include the... kind of... the relatively innocent-seeming childlike oblivion of grief, interrupted by a perhaps braver (?) and more adult/heroic (??) impulse to answer Morwen’s call---his love! that takes priority!---and then the same process happening again after she dies, except now all that’s summoning him is his grief, and it’s soured completely in his absence. But like, the repeated habit of ‘shaking himself awake,’ the shape is the same, the feelings that fill it are the reverse

Also I can’t. can’t. BELIEVE the ... seamless transition from the factual, wrenching, sweet gallows humor of “Not even a wolf would do you more hurt” --- he’s looking at her, he’s flirting a little, he sees her clearly, she’s a corpse! --- STRAIGHT into “But the folk of this hard land shall rue the day that you died here.” He was calm for as long as he’s talking directly to his dead wife, it occurs to him he can hurt someone, it’s time to hurt someone. No one can hurt her now. What does that have to do with it? He wants to hurt someone!

'Shame upon you!' cried Manthor the captain, who coming behind had heard what they said. 'And upon you most, Avranc, young though you are! At least you have heard of the deeds of Hurin of Hithlum, or did you hold them only fireside fables? What is to be done, indeed! So, slay him in his sleep is your counsel. Out of hell comes the thought! '

'And so does he,' answered Avranc. 'If indeed he is Hurin. Who knows? '

'It can soon be known,' said Manthor; and coming to Hurin as he lay he knelt and raised his hand and kissed it. 'Awake!' he cried. 'Help is near. And if you are Hurin, there is no help that I would think enough.'

'And no help that he will not repay with evil,' said Avranc. 'He comes from Angband, I say.'

'What he may do is unknown,' said Manthor. 'What he has done we know, and our debt is unpaid.'

God Manthor you male feminist. I mean, uh, I, ‘out of hell comes the thought’ / ‘ and so does he’ put this on my .... portfolio website, also... the hand kiss.... the unintentional brain-cleaving accuracy of ‘and if you are Hurin, there is no help that I would think enough’ ... I do legit love What he may do is unknown. What he has done we know, and our debt is unpaid. Manthor is a good, rationalizing, sleazy kid who has already had TWO prophetic dreams :(

Then Manthor gave him a little bread and meat and water; but they seemed to choke him, and he spat them forth. 'How far is it to the house of your lord?' he asked. 'Until I have seen him the food that you denied to my beloved will not go down my throat.'

[Húrin after having his mouth scalded by a bite of lembas] ‘Hmm, must be because THINGOL and MELIAN mistreated my WIFE’

the food that you denied to my beloved. holy shit. he’s an evil slam poet.

Then he turned towards Hurin, who sat meanwhile bent on the low stool; his eyes were closed, and he seemed to take no heed of what was said.

LOVE HÚRIN’S FUCKING... SHITTY-ASS COMBINATION THEODEN-DENETHOR-GANDALF VIBE... WHATS UP. IM A HARMLESS OLD MAN. BUT I HATE YOU. BUT IM CRAZY MAGIC SO

Then Hurin looked at him and the wrath left his eyes; and together they drank and ate in silence. And when all was finished, Hurin said: 'By your voice you have overcome me. Never since the Day of Dread have I heard any man's voice so fair. Alas! alas! it calls to my mind the voices in my father's house, long ago when the shadow seemed far away.'

'That may well be,' said Manthor. 'Hiril my foremother was sister of thy mother, Hareth.'

'Then thou art both kin and friend,' said Hurin.

'But not I alone,' said Manthor. 'We are few and have little wealth, but we too are Edain, and bound by many ties to your people. Your name has long been held in honour here; but no news of your deeds would have reached us, if Haldir and Hundar had not marched to the Nirnaeth. There they fell, but three of their company returned, for they were succoured by Mablung of Doriath and healed of their wounds.’

1) Seriously the amount of time Húrin spends on offhand, awful, overwhelming flattery 2) I REMEMBER BEING EXACTLY AS WOWED BY THE MABLUNG CAMEO LAST TIME. “Oh, shit, they got healed by Doctor Who!” Fuck I just realized Mablung visited again ~2 weeks ago and probably talked to none of those people. Amazing.

Soon all the Moot-ring was filled. This was shaped as a great crescent, with seven tiers of turf-banks rising up from a smooth floor delved back into the hillside. A high fence was set all about it, and the only entry was by a heavy gate in the stockade that closed the open end of the crescent. In the middle of the lowest tier of seats was set the Angbor or Doom-rock, a great flat stone upon which the Halad (40) would sit. Those who were brought to judgement stood before the stone and faced the assembly.

... Then he stood facing the assembly and hallowed the Moot according to custom. First he named Manwe and Mandos, after the manner which the Edain had learned from the Eldar, and then, speaking the old tongue of the Folk which was now out of daily use, he declared that the Moot was duly set, being the three hundred and first Moot of Brethil, called to give judgement in a grave matter.

I don’t have anything to say about this it’s just the best and I regret not including it in my Nienor fic. Take me to turf ampitheater. Btw Niniel definitely spoke on that doom-rock right, that’s where she convinced the folk of Brethil to go rubberneck with her, right

also NAMED MANWE AND MANDOS AFTER THE MANNER WHICH THE EDAIN LEARNED FROM THE ELDAR and then goes straight to the old largely-ceremonial human language I. just. I love it so much. I love Beleriand.

The horn sounded twice, but for some time no one entered, and the sound of angry voices could be heard outside the fence. At length the gate was thrust open, and six men came in bearing Hurin between them.

'I am brought by violence and misuse,' he cried. 'I will not walk slave-fettered to any Moot upon earth, not though Elven-kings should sit there. And while I am bound thus I deny all authority and justice to your dooms.' But the men set him on the ground before the Stone and held him there by force.

Sorry I included a lot of Húrin quotes that I don’t even have anything to say about I Just... the vision... Húrin’s slightly fake flailing and perfect enunciation/projection techniques....

But when Hardang stepped down and Avranc came to the Stone there was a loud murmuring like the rumour of a coming storm. Avranc was a young man, not long wedded, and his youth was taken ill by all the elder headmen that sat there. And he was not loved for himself; for though he was bold, he was scornful, as was Dorlas his father before him. And dark tales were whispered concerning Dorlas; for though naught was known for certain, he was found slain far from the battle with Glaurung, and the reddened sword that lay by him had been the sword of Brandir.

But Avranc took no heed of the murmur, and bore himself airily, as if it were a light matter soon to be dealt with.

My secret favorite WoH thing is not even the Hurin garbage, it’s just the indiscriminate revengelike murder mystery consequences of Brandir’s death on This Entire Small Community. Also, Avranc is cute. Cuter than Dorlas because I cannot imagine Dorlas behind the bench in an Ace Attorney game. Pats.

‘We gave him food and he spat on it. I have seen Orcs do so, if any were fools enough to show them mercy.’

[vs Manthor:] ‘Yet as for despising our food: he took it from my hands, and he did not spit upon it. He spat it forth, for it choked him. Have you never, my masters, seen a man half-starved who could not swallow food in haste though he needed it? And this man was in great grief also and full of anger.’

Anyway okay I joked earlier but obviously the moment with Húrin spitting out the food/these successive interpretive frames are just... so... again like, this is as close as we get to textual acknowledgment of like... the HORROR of those scenes where Gollum is burned by the elf-rope and the moon, the fact that what’s spoken of in the abstract as a sure sign of evil reads on the page as just this terrible, wasteful injustice, that no one’s actively inflicting but that people have some duty to correct. And like. come on. the only explanation for orcish allergies that makes sense is that they’ve been deprived for so long that they just can’t handle [radiance/nutrients/silky touches of elf-hair]. Avranc and Manthor, I have great news, you think you’re making different arguments and through my sciences I have discovered, it’s ONE argument

'Prisoner, will you not speak?' said Avranc, and still Hurin gave no answer. 'So be it,' said Avranc. 'If he will not speak, not even to deny the charge, then there is no more to do. The charge is made good, and the one that is appointed to the Stone must propound to the Moot a penalty that seems just.'

But now Manthor stood up and said: ‘First he should at least be asked why he will not speak. And to that question reply may be made by his friend.'

'The question is put,' said Avranc with a shrug. 'If you know the answer give it.'

'Because he is fettered hand and foot,' said Manthor. 'Never before have we dragged to the Moot in fetters a man yet uncondemned. Still less one of the Edain whose name deserves honour, whatsoever may have happened since. Yes, "uncondemned" I say; for the accuser has left much unsaid that this Moot must hear before judgement is given.'

'But this is foolishness,' said Avranc. 'Adan or no, and whatever his name, the prisoner is ungovernable and malicious. The bonds are a needed precaution. Those who come near him must be protected from his violence.'

Sorry I just... really like Avranc...

Hmm I was going to put this observation somewhere else but I don’t really feel like attaching a quote: it is always soothing to me when Tolkien doesn’t quite know how to translate his ideas into an archaic register either. Like with the whole subplot of Hurin’s food being drugged. “IDK, HIS FOOD WAS DRUGGED.” Or when he tries to backdate idioms? “Third time shall thrive best!” mmhmmm

But the gathering and counting would take much time, and meanwhile Manthor saw that with each moment the mood of Hurin grew worse.

'There is another way more simple,' he said. 'There is no danger here to justify the bonds, and so think all who have used their voice. The Halad is in the Moot-ring, and he can remit his own order, if he will.'

'He will,' said Hardang, for it seemed to him that the mood of the assembly was restive, and he hoped by this stroke to regain its favour. 'Let the prisoner be released, and stand up before you!'

Hardang also a pretty great prototype of other doomed Tolkien politicians :[ from chilling in his chair with a bleeding headwound to bursting out petulantly about REMEMBER MY HEADWOUND? DO YOU THINK THIS IS A FANCY HAT? in court. He’s just... “trying his best”... I, too, suck at catering to the crowd while wishing to do nothing except cater to the crowd, Hardang.

'Ashamed ye may be. But this is not my charge. I do not ask that any in this land should match the son of Hurin in valour. But if I forgive those griefs, shall I forgive this? Hear me, Men of Brethil! There lies by the Standing Stone that you raised an old beggar-woman. Long she sat in your land, without fire, without food, without pity. Now she is dead. Dead. She was Morwen my wife. Morwen Edelwen, the lady elven-fair who bore Turin the slayer of Glaurung. She is dead.

[...]

Now Hardang was aghast at this turn, and his face went white with fear and amazement. But before he could speak, Hurin pointed a long hand at him. 'See!' he cried. 'There he stands with a sneer on his mouth! Does he deem himself safe? For I am robbed of my sword; and I am old and weary, he thinks. Nay, too often has he called me a wild man. He shall see one! Only hands, hands, are needed to wring his throat full of lies.'

With that Hurin left the Stone and strode towards Hardang; but he gave back before him, calling his household-men about him; and they drew off towards the gate. Thus it appeared to many that Hardang admitted his guilt, and they drew their weapons, and came down from the banks, crying out upon him.

Now there was peril of battle within the hallowed Ring. For others joined themselves to Hardang, some without love for him or his deeds, who nonetheless held to their loyalty and would at least defend him from violence, until he could answer before the Moot.

L M A O I JUST FUCKIN. THE NEGGING. “Not that I expected you to be braver than my son!” The as if just-remembered other detail: you killed my wife, though. Remember when you totally killed my wife, as I decided when I realized I needed someone to have killed her, because I wanted a reason to live? Remember that? Oh, okay, I’m walking forward now. No rush. I’m just briskly walking forward to strangle your leader. Everybody with m---oh look, he’s running away. After him! On your own time.

Now she is dead. Dead. She was Morwen my wife.

'Out of the dark days of our past it comes,' he said, 'before we turned our faces west. A shadow is upon us.' And he felt one lay a hand on his shoulder, and he turned and saw Hurin who stood behind him, with a grim face watching the kindling of the fires; and Hurin laughed.

'A strange folk are ye,' he said. 'Now cold, now hot. First wrath, then ruth. Under your chieftain's feet or at his throat. Down with Hardang! Up with Manthor! Wilt thou go up?'

'The Folk must choose,' said Manthor. 'And Hardang still lives.'

'Not for long, I hope,' said Hurin.

a. strange. folk. are ye. now cold. now hot. down with hardang! up with manthor! wilt thou go up? Hurin, I know you can’t, but listen to me, I have to ask: can you control your jollies for even a second. Until the house is ashes? If you recall, your wife is dead and not here and can’t unsmilingly appreciate your shit

'You are a mightier man than I, Hurin of Hithlum,' he said. 'I had such fear of your shadow that all wisdom and largesse forsook me. But now I do not think that any wisdom or mercy would have saved me from you, for you have none. You came to destroy me, and you at least have not denied it. But your last lie against me I cast back upon you ere I die. Never' - but with that blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell back, and said no more.

I know you haven’t read ASOIAF and you are the only person who might conceivably have scrolled this far down, but, god when people claim GRRM is more grimdark in his interest in deflating backhanded anticlimax than Tolkien, I ... I just...

‘I must go to the Field of the Worm and the Stone of the Hapless, where Morwen their mother lies untended. Will any come with me?'

Then ruth smote the hearts of those that heard him; and though some drew back in fear, many were willing to go, but among these there were more women than men.

<33 <3 they loved Nienor

But Hurin said: 'Nay, Nienor is not here, but it is fitter that she should lie here near her son than with any strangers. So she would have chosen.'

[...] But it is said that after that day fear left that place, though sorrow remained, and it was ever leafless and bare. But until the end of Beleriand women of Brethil would come with flowers in spring and berries in autumn and sing there a while of the Grey Lady who sought in vain for her son.

I have to single out every time someone mentions “Nienor is not there,” also the implication that obviously Morwen would MOST want to be buried where Nienor is, um, soothing to me. Personally. Not because I don’t care a ton about Morwen and Turin, it’s just, the Morwen-Nienor relationship is like... you know. Anyway I can’t believe how lovely and unqualified this is even though Brethil is on fire in another tab.

Now Manthor sat gasping with his back to a tree. 'It is a poor archer that will miss his mark at the third aim,' he said.

Hurin leaned on his staff and looked down at Manthor. 'But thou hast missed thy mark, kinsman,' he said. 'Thou hast been a valiant friend, and yet I think thou wert so hot in the cause for thyself also. Manthor would have sat more worthily in the chair of the Chieftains.'

'Thou hast a hard eye, Hurin, to pierce all hearts but thine own,' said Manthor.

THANKS HURIN. THANKS FOR THE SOFTWARE UPDATE. THANKS FOR RUNNING A DIAGNOSTIC ON THIS DECEASED MAN. great job leaning on your staff for effect, you maniac

‘...I would weep for thee, Manthor; for thou hast saved me from dishonour, and thou hadst love for my son.'

'Then, lord, use in peace the little more life that I have won for thee,' said Manthor. 'Do not bring your shadow upon others!'

'Why, must I not still walk in the world?' said Hurin. 'I will go on till the shadow overtakes me. Farewell!'

Final thoughts on Wanderings of Húrin: it’s super weird how Homer wrote the softcore flanderizing fix-it AU of Morwen/Húrin thousands of years before Morwen/Húrin ok ok it doesn’t actually bear that much resemblance to the Odyssey/the slaying of the suitors, I just think I’m funny

#vardasvapors #tumblr as she is spoke #silmarillion #hurin #avranc #manthor #brethil #gondolin

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