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morvith · 9 days

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I stumbled on this post by @velvet4510 : "If Míriel had lived, would Fëanor still have followed the same dark path?"

I voted "no" because so much of Fëanor was shaped by his abandonment issues.

...pause for a moment as I contemplate Fëanor growing up well-adjusted.

But, let us imagine for a moment a perfect word.

A world where Miriel doesn't die after giving birth to Fëanor and Finwë still gets his large family (The other children of Finwë will maintain their original name for clarity’s sake)

So Miriel does not die, but the birth still leaves her fragile. It takes her a long time to recover and decide that she wants to try again, so much that there is a big age difference between Fëanor and Fingolfin

Which, not that unusual among Elves, I bet it's not uncommon for siblings to have about a century between them.

However, when Fingolfin comes along, Fëanor isn't just of age, he is fully established: he has found his craft, maybe he is not a master yet but at the very least he is well on his way to it.

He definitely panics at the idea of his mother being pregnant again, since he remembers his early years when mother was recovering - how weak and wan she looked, how easily she tired. There are arguments about it, but eventually Miriel puts her foot down and points out that this is her decision, she wouldn’t do it if she did not want to or feel up to it, and that's final.

But, perfect word: Miriel's second pregnancy is much, much, much easier than her first one.

Same for the pregnancies that follow. Her difficult first pregnancy becomes something to tease Fëanor about - within the family only, of course, but still. Imagine that.

Fëanor does not go down the same dark path. That does not mean that there is no dark path, or that it's not somebody else who takes it.

Maybe in this universe Melkor can't get his claws into Fëanor because he simply feels zero resentment for his younger siblings. Why would he?

It's not like his parents do not give him attention and if one of them is busy, he can always count on the other.

Did he get some jealousy pangs? Yes, sure. He is not perfect. But he probably kept them to himself and thoroughly regretted them once he had his own children and got to see parenting from the other side.

But what about Fingolfin, the second son? The one who grows up in the shadow of his oldest brother?

The one who is still doing all the paperwork because Fëanor is off creating and can't be bothered. The one who is taken for granted, the one who will never be considered for Crown Prince because....well, why would he? He is the second born, after all.

And he is Not Fëanor.

But perhaps that doesn’t work, either.

Perhaps in this world, because Fëanor and Fingolfin are similar, they end up being close. Perhaps Fëanor here does appreciate all of Fingolfin's hard work, and since this is Fëanor we are talking about, you know he would not be quiet about it.

Imagine Fëanor taking Maitimo to meet Baby Makalaurë and whispering, "I hope you will grow up to be great friends, like me and your Uncle Nolofinwë."

So Fingolfin is out. What about Finarfin? The third son, the last child, the one overshadowed by both his older brothers?

What about Findis? Or Irimë?

Maybe it's Fëanor who dies trying to defend his masterpieces.

Maybe it's Finwë who, mad with grief, stands before the Valar and swears a terrible oath.

(with many thanks to @wings-of-indigo)

#the silmarillion #feanor #feanaro #miriel #finwe #fingolfin #finarfin #house of finwe #spinning a yarn #just to be clear: I am not writing this #for one my copy of The Silmarillion is currently missing #for two it's in Italian #The Silmarillion AU

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lorica-art · 2 years

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Can we get a Findis and Irimë artwork?

#findis #Írimë #irime #house of finwe #finweans #noldor elves #silmarillionfanart #silmarillion #это фантастика сынок #фанарт #sketch

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 14 days

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A new life

Day 2 prompts: Exploration

For: @silmarillionepistolary

Rating: General Audience

Character: Finarfin

Epistolary format: Journal entries and letter

Themes: Soft | Fluff | Exploration

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.1K words

Summary: Finarfin writes about his journey to Alqualondë, his first impressions of the city and the royal family.

A/n: OC name meanings

Lirulinwë, a Noldor Captain of Finwë's Household Guards - Lirulin: Lark | wë (suffix generally used for male names)

Eärerossë, wife of Olwë and Queen of Alqualondë - Eäre (a variation of Eär, Sea) | Rossë (foam)

This is also available on AO3

Ingoldo Arafinwë’s journal

51st day of Y.T. 1278— The journey to Alqualondë was not long, but others say that there were a great many things to see along the way. I have often traveled west with my father and mother and the others, to Ilmarin and Valimar and beyond, but never have I traveled east. My mother told me all that she knew of the city and the lords and ladies that dwelled within it. She assured me I would find no cause for disappointment, and I did not doubt her in this.

She came to Tirion’s square to bid me farewell, as did my father and sisters and full brother, and all the others. Of my half-brother Fëanáro, I saw little. He attended the feast my father held in honor of my new station as his ambassador in King Olwë’s court, albeit very briefly. He ate little, drank even less, and chiefly spoke with his own wife. Then he made his excuses and departed, but others from his family—my sister by marriage and my nephews, his sons—remained. I had held on to the hopes of some deeper understanding, of my half-brother and I meeting on middle ground, but as the years pass, that hope grows smaller and smaller, and I fear Fëanáro and I will only ever be brothers by blood, and not brothers by bond.

“Pray do not take Fëanáro’s indifference to heart,” my mother said in comfort. “He is an elf grown, and must choose his friends and acquaintances without interference from others. Set your eyes on your new task and your new life. Alqualondë will reward you in many ways; wait and see.”

“Write to us as often as you can, my son,” my father added, “and remember me to Olwë when you see him.”

“I will remember you to your dear friend,” I swore. “And I will write to you all, father. You have my word on this. Farewell!”

51st day of Y.T. 1278.— What a difference a day’s journey makes! Already, the great tower and white walls and sparkling sands of Tirion are behind us, and the Calacirya is on either side of us. A great river split the land between the mountain passes, and it flowed directly into the Bay of Eldamar. I will be remiss if I do not mention that the pass is more than what it appears to be. Jewels of all shapes and hues can be found jutting out of exposed rock, and they glitter like lamps of a thousand shades when light from the Trees falls upon them. We halted briefly to rest, and I took this opportunity to carve out as many slivers as I could find. I will send these to my mother and sisters. Irimë in particular loves such jewels, and they will, no doubt, adorn her chambers and her garments in one form or another.

Later, during the waning of Laurelin and the mingling of the lights—We rested briefly again on the edge of the shore, this time to have a meal, and with Tol Eressëa within our sight. Even from afar, the lamps of Avallónë, Tathrobel and Cortirion could be seen with our eyes. All gold and silver, they glittered like stars in the heavens.

“Do many people still live there?” I asked.

“Aye, my lord,” replied Lirulinwë, a captain of Father’s household guards. He knelt beside the fire and roasted the fish we caught from the river. Another warrior was passing around cups of mulled wine. “Mariners, mostly. And nobles hailing from the city, whenever they are in need of respite.”

The captain was chosen to lead the warriors escorting me and the gifts I was tasked to carry to Alqualondë. I saw no need for so many lavish gifts or such precautions; Lord Melkor has been safely confined to Lumbi, and Alqualondë is a prosperous city. Nevertheless, my father, bless him, still insisted on it. It would not do, he said, for his ambassador and a prince of the Noldor to arrive in another king’s fair city with empty hands and without a proper escort. Olwë might think poorly of us for it. And I am not ashamed to say that I yielded to his entreaty. Father is troubled enough as it is; I have no desire to add to the many cares weighing down on his shoulders.

“What if I wish to go there?” I inquired after accepting my wine.

The captain made himself comfortable on the sand after passing plates of the cooked fish. “Simply ask the king, my lord; I am certain he will agree to arrange a ship to take you.”

A ship. One of the fabled swan ships, no less, with their white sails and their beaks of gold and eyes of gold and jet. Many songs have been sung of them, and now I get to see them and even sail in one of them.

“Perhaps I shall,” I returned, and we turned our attention to our supper.

It was a pleasant thing to sit and talk and laugh and break bread with the others. We listened to tales of those old enough to remember the Great Crossing, the many perils they faced leaving Cuiviénen. They regaled us with songs from that time, and then we all stopped, astonished, when singing sweeter than anything we had ever heard carried over the waves.

These were the voices of the Oarni and the Falmaríni, sea spirits that served Ossë and Uinen. Lirulinwë said these spirits are rarely seen in Alqualondë. The city and harbour are too loud, more often than not. They preferred the tranquility of Tol Eressëa instead.

The singing stopped, and the air felt strangely empty for it. “They will start up again, my lord,” Lirulinwë assured me. “Perhaps we should sing again. That might encourage them.”

I decided against my yearning to hear more. We could not tarry for much longer. The king awaited us.

Letter from Ingoldo Arafinwë to Queen Indis

52nd day of Y.T. 1278.—

“Beloved mother,—

“You will rejoice to learn that all is well with us. Our journey was a peaceful one, and we arrived just as Laurelin reached her greatest bloom. Even from outside the gates, Alqualondë is a vision to behold, and I will write to you and father on all that I see and find after I have met with the king. Pray give my love to the others.”

“Your loving son,

“Ingoldo.”

Ingoldo Arafinwë’s journal

52nd day of Y.T. 1278, during the waning of Laurelin — King Olwë greeted me with a hearty bellow upon my arrival.

“Son of Finwë!” He cried and embraced me. The gifts I brought with me were to be given later, when I was alone with the family. “Be welcome in my home!”

His home was a graceful and enchanting palace made out of white marble. Of pearls and jewels, there were aplenty. They adorned doorways and windows, columns and vaulted halls, lamps, and candlesticks. I have come to a city of great wealth, and it showed in the rich splendor I found in the palace.

King Olwë smiled warmly when I pressed a letter from my father into his hand. “I will read this later,” he said, and he passed the letter onto his steward. “Now come and meet the rest of my family.”

The king graciously led me into a vast receiving hall where his family and members of the court had gathered. He presented me to his queen, the lady Eärerossë, first.

“Welcome to Alqualondë, Ingoldo Arafinwë, son of Finwë.” Her words were like warm honey. My mother once said the women of the Teleri could rival the spirits of the sea with the sweetness of their voice. She also warned me to take care where the queen was concerned. Eärerossë was unforgiving, she had said, to those who wounded her or the ones she loved. “We have all heard so much of you. If there is anything you need to increase your comfort, please do not hesitate to ask.”

I thanked her profusely, and the king motioned for the others to come forward. His sons were many, almost as many as the sons of Ingwë. Then came the lords and ladies of his court, and finally, after I was introduced to them, King Olwë raised a hand toward a lady hiding in the shadows, urging her to come forth.

“This, my lord and prince,” he said with pride, “is my only daughter, the princess Eärwen.”

“My lady.” I bowed as deeply and respectfully as I could.

“My lord,” she said, dipping in a curtsy in return. Her voice was unlike her mother’s; it reminded me of a clear stream. “My lord father has spoken to us a great deal about your sire and your kin. If you are not weary from your journey, I would like to show you something of our city.”

I lifted my gaze, and it was then that I truly saw her. Molten silver hair and eyes as blue as brilliant jewels greeted me first, followed by a smile that could have warmed even the coldest of hearts. For a single, breathtaking moment, I could not speak or even think. The gossips all said that the Swanmaiden of Alqualondë was a glorious vision made flesh, and for once, I was grateful that they were correct. Someone cleared their throat; it was the king, I think. Clarity came back to me in a rush, and then I recalled where I was, and who I was with. I remembered my courtesies and made haste to say, “My thanks, my lady.”

“Splendid, my lord. I will send word to the stables and ask them to ready our swiftest horses.”

Not long after, we rode out of the palace and into the city. Mountains lay to the north and west, and, much to my own surprise, there was more than one forest as well. Princess Eärwen told me they are all well stocked, and hunters never want for game. She invited me to join her and her brothers on their next hunt. I agreed, thinking it would be a most opportune time to learn of King Olwë’s children.

Another aspect of the city that caught my eye were the roofs and doors and shutters of all the manses. They were all deep blue. Even the many lamps of the city were inlaid with deep blue crystals. Pearls and jewels adorned the many walls and fountains and terraces we passed, and on closer inspection, I found that the path we were on comprised chiefly of blocks of white coral. Many of the city’s paths were made of white coral, as were parts of the walls that lined the canal that threaded its way through the city.

The princess was kind enough to lead me down to the Haven of Swans so I could take a closer look at their ships. There were the beaks of gold and the eyes of jet. There were the pristine white sails bearing the heraldry of the noble Houses of this city. King Olwë’s ship was kept apart from the others.

“That is the sigil of our House,” Princess Eärwen gestured to what was emblazoned on the main sail. “Waves with a crowned star high above them. Father thought it fitting, given the love the Teleri hold for the sea. There are many tales of the great ocean crossing. You will hear some of them later, at the feast.”

“I hear it is to be aboard your father’s ship?” The ship made especially for the king was larger than all of the others, but could it hold a great many people?

“Yes.” The princess dug her heels into her horse, urging it forward, and I did the same. We rode closer to the many piers that dotted the Haven, and I kept silent while she called out to the mariners she knew. “But only for our family and members of my father’s council. We will take the ship out into the water while we dine. There will be minstrels and mummers and even a fire dancer. If we are truly fortunate, the Oarni and Falmaríni might join us.”

“I hear you can speak their words, my lady.”

“I can, my lord. My brothers, too. My mother encouraged us to learn. Perhaps I could teach you, if you like. It is quite hard, almost as hard as Valarin, but the words are so beautiful to listen to.”

“I hope I will not disappoint you with my efforts, my lady.”

“I am certain you will not.”

We rode on, guiding our horses past the Haven and onto the beach. The sand was like gold. Even the palm trees were gilded. There were more jewels everywhere, even in the little rock pools elflings swam in. My heart felt lighter here and freer. Perhaps my mother was right. Alqualondë could indeed reward me in many ways, and I must be patient enough to see what they are.

#silmarillionepistolary #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction #epistolary #finarfin #Olwë #Eärwen #Indis #finwë #silmarillion oc

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the-doom-of-mandos · 10 months

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Findis: We vegetarians love the environment. Carnivores are sick freaks

Irimë: How can vegetarians possibly love the environment? You keep eating all the fucking plants

#findis #irimë #silmarillion #incorrect quotes #silm incorrect quotes #queue

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shierak-inavva · 8 months

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a quick doodle i wanted to get out--baby elowen with her mother, elariel, and her grandmother, lalwen/irimë 💛

#my ocs #elowen anairiel #elariel niswen #lalwen #irime #irime lalwen #probably not long before irime dies protecting them on their journey east during the war of wrath #elowen loved her very much ; ;#tolkien oc #silmarillion oc #lotr oc

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saturn-s-moon · 7 months

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Findis & Irimë for day 2 of @finweanladiesweek !

My personal hc is that Findis cut her hair as a sign of grief after the Noldor left Valinor and dressed mostly in Vanyar fashion (which I represent as Chinese during the Tang dynasty)

Meanwhile, Irimë, who went with Fingolfin, dressed mostly Noldor (which I interpret as Japanese)

#sorry for being late i got sick lol #tolkien tag #irime lalwen #findis #silmarillion #finweanladiesweek #☆ calli art

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averytinylizard · 9 months

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RATING THE NAMES OF FINWË, WIVES AND CHILDREN.

i will be rating them based on aesthetic and meaning separately. i will be using the names in the silmarillion plus all the names in the shibboleth of fëanor, using the latter as the source for the meanings or tolkien gateway in case none is given. i refuse to rate names like finweg (1/10 aesthetically), or maidros (meaning pale glitter) because i don't hate myself.

disclaimer: names beginning with fin will get an automatic 1 on the sound category.

finwë: aesthetically it's fine. just fine. nothing wrong with it. 6.5/10. it literally doesn't mean anything. technically it means something like hair person, but even the text calls finwë's connection with hair doubtful. 1/10

noldoran: meh. 5/10. it means king of the noldor. also meh. 5/10.

miriel: sounds like a name you give to a grandma unfortunately. 3/10. it means jewel-daughter. it is pretty generic. 4/10.

Þerind/serinde: i like Þerinde better, but both are very good. 9/10 and 8/10 respectively. meaning wise, this is the best one so far. like. the Broideress is very specific to her. 10/10

indis: i like it! it's fine. not much to write home about. 7/10. meaning wise it slaps. great or valiant woman. god that's cool. 9/10 for coolness, while unfortunately lacking in specificity.

finwë (what finwë called all his sons before they started showing distinguishing personality traits): soundwise same as dad. points docked for beginning with fin. 1/10. meaning wise it's just lazy on finwë's part. 2/10.

Kurufinwë: i don't like the way it sounds. it trips me up when i tray to find where the emphasis goes. 3/10. meaning wise it's fine. fëanor is pretty skilled. 6/10

fëanaro: i like the sindarin version better. still pretty good. 7/10. meaning wise it rocks. spirit of fire. 10/10

fëanor: very good! 8/10. technically the correct sindarin version would be faenor, so i have to dock some points in this category. 8/10.

findis: see the fin disclaimer. also it sounds like a worse version of her mom's name. 1/10. don't name your child a combination of your wife's name and yours. 1/10.

irimë: it's fine! 6.5/10. according to tolkien gateway, it probably comes from irima meaning desirable, lovely. there are good ways to name your kid pretty, calling them desirable is not one of them. 2/10.

irien: another father-name for her given in the very same paragraph. what the hell jirt. 1/10 in both categories for being unable to choose.

lalwende: sounds fine! 6.5/1. i like the meaning of it, laughing maiden. 9/10.

lalwen: sounds a little better than above. 7/10. means the same thing, same rating: 9/10.

nolofinwë: for some reason it doesn't trip me up the same way as kurufinwë. also, the n, l and w sound so soft in comparison to the f, it makes the name an interesting sound and rythm. 8/10. wise finwë. the meaning is fine, not sure how much it applie to a guy who got in a duel with morgoth. 5/10.

finwë nolofinwë: even ignoring the fact that it's a fin name, it sounds awful and way too long. way to ruin your own name dude. 1/10. on the meaning of the name, jirt has this to say: Fingolfin had prefixed the name Finwe to Nolofinwe before the Exiles reached Middle-earth. This was in pursuance of his claim to be the chieftain of all the Noldor after the death of Finwe, and so enraged Feanor that it was no doubt one of the reasons for his treachery in abandoning Fingolfin and stealing away with all the ships. a name so bad it caused your brother to betray you. 1/10.

fingolfin: fin name gets automatic 1/10. also it literally doesn't mean anything. 2/10 because it didn't cause a schism in the noldor.

arafinwë: back to tripping me up. 3/10. noble finwë. it's fine! 6/10.

Arfin: the name finarfin was referred by in middle-earth before finrod changed his name to finarfin. it sounds like garbage. 1/10. same meaning as above, same rating. 6/10.

finarfin: what finrod started calling his father after the death of fingolfin. fin name, automatic 1/10. it's either a symbolic power grab after the death of the king (in which case, what the hell finrod) or a way to honor him by giving a name almost as awful and politically messy as the one fingolfin gave himself. either way 2/10.

#tolkien #silmarillion #feanor #finwe #miriel #fingolfin #finarfin #indis #lalwen #findis #the silmarillion

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