#nelyo originals
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everything is about the silmarillion. except for the silmarillion, which is about making family dinners as awkward as possible.
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Make You Pretty
Maedhros x Little!Vanifinwe
ft. Cousins
A/N: Inspired heavily by the RP I did with @nelyoalwayscame to write this last night. SO just a little something fun for you all to read.
3.2k words
Make You Pretty | Enhanced Beauty | Breakfast Reveals
Unexpected Farewell | Unexpected Gift | Pretty Negotiators
Finally Ensnared | Overreactions
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Vanifinwë marched through the gilded halls of one of the few places that their Atya and Ammë stopped to stay in during their travels around Valinor. She was in search of her eldest brother, Nelyafinwë seeing as she knew he’d be the only brother who would come to play with her. The rest had all turned her down, while it had all been gently, it nonetheless had hurt her feelings that they wouldn’t play with her. Though to Vanifinwë, Carnistir in particular had been rude when he grew flustered and turned her down. So she was hopeful that Nelyafinwë would come and play with her.
Walking through these grand big halls she was so unfamiliar with, Vanifinwë was afraid that she had gotten lost in them somehow. On the verge of tears as they began to well in her big blue eyes, looking around at the many corridors and doorways that led into rooms that Vanifinwë didn’t know. It all was starting to look the same in her eyes- all the same gold crown molding and tapestries on the walls.
But the deep smooth voice that spoke with such familiarity filled her with relief. Vanifinwë wiped the tears from her eyes immediately, not wanting to worry her Nelyo. So with excitement she ran towards the sound of Nelyafinwë’s voice, a big smile coming to her little cherub like face as her eyes landed on his imposingly tall figure. Though she found comfort in seeing her massively tall big hanyo.
With him though was cousin Findekano and cousin Findarato, it didn’t seem important with how casual it was they were speaking with one another. Nothing like when Atya spoke to their Uncle and displomatticks… Or whatever they were called.
“Hanyo!” She squealed out gleefully, pulling the three ner from their talks and all smiled as they saw the frilly dressed little nis running right towards them. Her burgundy ruffled gown flouncing with every step, black curls bouncing and big blue eyes honed right in on Maitimo. Her bare little feet slapping against the marble floor as she ran right for him.
“Lady Vanifinwë it is good to see you.” Findekano said in a playful tone, knowing his little cousin liked having the title of Lady before her name. But he watched as the usually confident little nis moved to hide behind Nelyafinwë’s calves, looking up at him with big blue eyes that sparkled with wonder at the sight of him… Even more so when they landed on Findarato in all his sparkling gems and jewelry.
“My have you grown since I last saw you.” Findarato reminisced in a soft voice, with a warm smile, kneeling down to be level with little Vanifinwë who only grinned bashfully. Pressing her face into Nelyafinwë’s calf giggling softly,
“Mm she certainly has, I think she’s a full five inches taller than when you saw her last.” Nelyafinwë mused softly, looking at Findarato for a moment, before turning his head down to look at his littlest sibling and sister.
“What is it you need onorë?” Nelyafinwë asks in a gentle voice, though from her tone and glee to see him.. He suspected that she had been turned down one too many times by their brothers. That wasn’t an unusual issue that she constantly faced. None wishing to entertain her in the ways she wished to be, all wanting her to partake in their loves and desires. Unless it was simple games like Hide and Seek and Tag, but Vanifinwë was a frilly little girl and her elder brothers certainly weren’t interested in makeup and jewelry and having their hair done.
But Nelyafinwë always indulged Vanifinwë in what she wished to play, and despite the importance of this budget meeting with their cousins, he found himself unable to deny her already. The words hadn’t even left her lips yet for her request.
“Hanyo will you let me make you pretty? Makalaurë said no… Carnistir was rude when I asked him and Curvo told me to ask you.” Vanifinwë asked, explaining her situation as she wrinkled her nose. Making all the freckles wrinkle and furrow as she did so, scrunching her face up into displeasure before folding her arms over her chest. Findarato and Findekano looked over at Nelyafinwë, expectantly. Waiting for him to deny her request gently, with promises of fulfilling this at a later date or hour.
They had important things to discuss, and it was urgent so their grandfather Finwë had said. Not to mention it was a good exercise of Nelyafinwë’s ever budding career in politics and as Prince. As well as one for his cousins, it was their first meager steps into the world of Politics, so it was imperative that Nelyafinwë was focused on the matter.
“Of course I will, onorë.” Nelyafinwë says much to their cousins shock,
“Cousin… We have business still to discuss, Findarato says with a healthy dose of skepticism in his tone. Findekano only furrowing his brows trying to decipher how exactly this was going to work, except overpowering the whole situation was the gleeful excitement of Vanifnwë’s shrill voice.
“YAY! Come on Hanyo! Let’s go!” Vanifinwë said, reaching for his hand, gripping his fingers to his large hand before tugging on his hand to follow as hard as she could.
“We can still discuss things despite the play.” Nelyafinwë assured them both, but the pair looked between one another with uncertainty at his words. How could they possibly continue the discussion if Nelyafinwë was embroiled in the game of whatever… make you pretty was? Nelyafinwë waved for the cousins to follow, and with their own curiosity they certainly did.
Nelyafinwë having to lead Vanifinwë the many winding corridors as he sensed her being disoriented by all the closed doors in the winding halls. The chatter is mostly Vanifinwë telling him what she is going to do to him. Put him in make up, fix his hair, add pretty fabrics to his clothes and jewelry- failed creations from their Atya- to him and make him look very pretty.
Her eldest hanyo only muses along to her words, with their cousins the silent sentinels listening to their talking before they came to her room. With a small table in the center and little chairs that were certainly fit for the little nis who was leading Nelyafinwë to one of the chairs. He sat down immediately in the chair, expectantly before Vanifinwë turned to the others.
“Finda and Fino you come sit too.” Vanifinwë says pointing to the other chairs at the table that are empty, they’re both snorting as they look at eight foot tall Nelyafinwë comically sitting in these tiny chairs. Though they admire his duty to her as her brother to do as she pleased.
“Thank you Lady, but I am afraid I will stand.” Findarato said bowing politely to the little elfling, only watching as Vanifinwë scrunched her nose up at his refusal. Bringing the blond to raise his brows at her reaction, never having been on the receiving end of one of her adorable scowls.
“Ammë says it’s rude for a guest to not sit at someone else’s table.” Vanifinwë retorts out immediately, bringing Findarato to fluster some at her words. Damn whomever had taught her etiquette this young… Then again he supposed he could thank his Uncle Fëanaro and Aunt Nerdanel for such a thing as they truly only wanted the best for their children. Findarato only gave Nelyafinwë a pleading look for help, yet the elder Fëanorian only motioned for him to take his seat.
“You’ve heard the Lady, it would be rude not to.” Nelyafinwë says, still holding his hand out towards one of the small chairs, like the ones that he sat in. With his knees practically pressed to his chest as Vanifinwë was adamant he sat as close to the table as possible- that was the polite thing to do. Findarato hesitated that was until Vanifinwë grabbed his hand,
“Finda… Come on. Come sit while I make Nelyo pretty.” She said to him pleadingly and he can hardly resist as those big blue eyes are like doe eyes in their pleadingly. He melts at the sight and tone of her voice,
“Alright Lady, I shall sit.” Watching as at his words, a big grin spreads across those soft little lips and happily does she pull him to the table where she pulls out his chair. Findarato thanks her as he awkwardly sits in the chair, his knees practically in his chest as he blankly stares at his eldest cousin, trying to discern how he had been roped into this situation. Yet in comparison, Findekano seemed all too eager to let their tiniest cousin lead him to the chair.
“My what a good host you are, Vani. Thank you so much.” Findekano says gently, taking his seat without batting an eyelash even if it was uncomfortable to sit in the seat all squished up. Yet Vanifinwë doesn’t say a word, only going to her dresser and digging through her drawers, while the trio turn their attention to one another.
“Now that we are all here and together, did you have time to go over those documents I had sent over?” Nelyafinwë asks, as Vanifinwë comes marching over with several brushes, elastics, and bows setting them on the table. Seeing that Nelyafinwë wasn’t reacting to what she was doing, Findarato simply took it in stride, opening the pockets of his robes to pull out thick documents.
“Only part of them, though there were parts I didn’t understand regarding certain budgets.” Findarato answered as smoothly as he could, watching the way Vanifinwë smacked the brush into Nelyafinwë’s hair, thudding off his head, making even Findekano flinch at her lack of gentleness. Before they all heard the unmistakable sound of the brush ripping through his hair. But Nelyafinwë didn’t bat an eyelash despite the clear pain he surely must have been in at this!
“Which parts were difficult to understand?” Nelyafinwë asked, holding out his hand to take the documents from his cousins, who watched as Vanifinwë released the brush that dangled in his hair, turning her attention to the elastics on the table. Grabbing one before ripping the brush out of his hair,
“Uh- This part… Concerning the budget for the statue replacements for the large plaza in the markets.” Findarato said, wincing as he watched as Vanifinwë began to wrap a strand of his hair chaotically in the elastic. Looping it far too tight that they could see his scalp redden, yet Nelyafinwë took the documents from his hands to read them over as Vanifinwë grabbed another little elastic to loop in another part of his hair.
“I’m afraid even I had difficulty understanding the jargon that was used in it. Still struggling to understand, cousin.” Findekano adds as Nelyafinwë looks over the paperwork, reading it carefully even as Vanifinwë makes his head pull in certain directions with her brushing and elastic tying. Which she was utterly quick at as there were already four or five little pigtails sticking straight off the top of his head that were growing tangled.
“It is just a fancy way of saying how much we are going to pay the artisans and the nerri and nissi to remove the dwindling and eroded statues.” Nelyafinwë began to explain, as Vanifinwë left her place by his side to hurry to her dresser digging around in another drawer for stars knew what. Findekano began to try and bite back the smile forming on his lips seeing how utterly serious Nelyafinwë was with five little russet pigtails and loops in his air. All done at the scalp and fly aways cluing them in to just how tangled they were.
“Then why say them in such a manner? Would it not be simpler to state it out right than say it in this word play?” Findarato asked his cousin, watching as Vanifinwë came over with several cosmetic items. Opening one up to reveal a bright rouge for the cheeks and holding a big fluffy brush that she vigorously dipped into the crème make up. Expectantly she held out the brush and Nelyafinwë leaned down enough for her to apply it to his cheeks, only making their cousins begin to chuckle.
“I asked grandfather the same question, he answered back that was simply how things were done. It looks more professional that way.” Nelyafinwë answered who was looking far from professional with heavily red and rosy cheeks as Vanifinwë slathered on the rouge. It made even Carnistir’s rubicund face look pale in comparison, she even managed to cover the freckles on his face and nose.
“You look sooooooooo pretty Nelyo!” Vanifinwë beamed out to him, and now the nature of the game was making sense. She simply just wanted someone she could dress up, and put makeup on. Someone to spend time with, because being the littlest female elfling in a house full of nerri and one nissi got to be lonely. Especially when none of your older brothers wanted to play with you, and how you wanted to play.
“Thank you Vani, you are a wonderful stylist.” Nelyafinwë simply encouraged, despite how ridiculous he looked to his cousins, but to his sister he truly did look beautiful. The little elfling grinned widely at his words, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Hanyo you’re so sweet.” She said with excitement before she rushed away from the table again and back to her dresser.
“It… seems hardly professional if you can’t understand it.” Findekano said, wearing a big grin on his face watching how once more Vanifinwë came back this time with a tube of dark purple lipstick. Surely Nelyafinwë was going to stop her now in this game, seeing as he had put on makeup and had his hair practically matted by little fingers. But even as she climbed upon the table, Nelyafinwë didn’t stop her. Leaving Findarato and Findekano to begin laughing softly at the ridiculousness of this game.
“Unfortunately grandfather seems unwilling to change in his-“
“Stop Hanyo! I can’t put on your lickstip if you’re talking!” Vanifinwë protested suddenly interrupting him in his speech. So he sat quietly for a moment, letting her apply her “lickstip” even if it was smearing dark purple streaks all over his lips, chin and just under his nose. Nelyafinwë just still continued to sit patiently, not correcting her, just letting her indulge in her moment of creativity.
“Vani, perhaps an eyeshadow would look lovely on your hanyo, yes?” Findekano teased, watching the little elflings look over her shoulder at his words in thought. Pursing her little lips for a moment as it was clear she was thinking while holding Nelyo’s face, who only sighed out through his nose at Findekano’s suggestion.
“No! He looks beautiful like this!” She said stubbornly, having the original intent to add eyeshadow, one that was a deep green one that sparkled because it made his eyes look pretty. But now that it had been suggested and no longer her idea… Well that simply wouldn’t do. Vanifinwë clambered off the table, satisfied by her lickstip look on his face.
“You can talk now hanyo I’m done with the lickstip.” She assured him with her back to him looking over all the dazzling little hair clips. Patiently Nelyafinwë turned his attention back to his cousins, who were wearing amused grins on their faces, as the more Vanifinwë did… Well the more silly their elder cousin looked.
“As I was saying, unfortunately grandfather seems unwilling to change in his ways. Preferring more jargon and antiquated terms than shortening them into easy to understand. Though I must ask, did you understand what the allotment was for the artisans payment?” Nelyafinwë asked, only leaning his head down as Vanifinwë approached with flowery clips and bows in hand. Clasping them to the longer strands of his hair in clear focus, while Nelyafinwë held statue still so she didn’t mess up.
“Mhmm I see.” Findarato says in an amused tone, and by it Nelyafinwë knows Vanifinwë has certainly gone overboard. As embarrassed as he wanted to be by it, he could see that his darling little sister is pleased and happy and mostly not disruptive to him working. Just by the grace of Eru he prayed to never let his Ammë ask him to bring her to work. For his Atya and the other Politicians might not be so forgiving like their cousins were about her doing this to him.
“That is certainly quite the shame.” Findekano says, exchanging a glance with Findarato before he watched her finish pinning her hair clips in his hair. Moving again to the dresser, curious to know what it was she’d bring out of it this time to decorate her eldest brother in. They could hear her digging around in it madly and Nelyafinwë could see that neither were focused on the task at hand.
“Findekano, Findarato? The question, please answer it.” He stated firmly, only making Findekano begin to laugh at how serious his face was despite its… adornment. Yet here came Vanifinwë with jewelry in her hand this time, lots of little earrings- surely clip ons- in her hands before sprawling them out on the table. Vanifinwë moved to open the big ones before going for Nelyafinwë’s ears.
“Oh right, forgive us… You are… distracting.” Findarato laughed, and he watched as Nelyafinwë raised an eyebrow at his words. Vanifinwë was clipping lots of big sparkling gemstone earrings all up his long ears. Trying to be gentle despite how truly rough she was being, Nelyafinwë only winced some as the earrings pinched his ears.
When she was finished, Vanifinwë stood back to look at her handiwork. Smiling widely as she thought he was certainly the prettiest ner in all of Valinor, courtesy of her hard work. With Vanifinwë finally moving to reach for something from the table,
“Look hanyo! Aren’t you so pretty?” Vanifinwë asks with a big toothy grin holding out the mirror for Nelyafinwë to take. He takes a steady breath before taking the mirror and holding it up to look at himself, and by Eru he could certainly tell Vanifinwë was bored and busy. He could see why now his cousins were so distracted, and why they had been laughing and amused in retort.
He was so used to it, but for a moment he wanted to be embarrassed by what she had done in front of their cousins. Nelyafinwë wanted to be upset; she had made him look so ridiculous, until he looked down at those excited blue eyes waiting for an important answer from her hanyo.
Nelyafinwë gently reminded himself that Vanifinwë hadn’t done this to be malicious. She simply wanted her eldest hanyo’s attention and time to spend with him. Even if it meant sharing him with Findarato and Findekano. He simply to a soft and steady breath before he smiled gently at the elfling,
“You’ve done a lovely job Vani, thank you.” And with that she squealed out happily moving to hug him quickly, so happy that he was pleased with his appearance. Only bringing him to wrap his arms around her tenderly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“You know Vani, you’ve done such a good job, I think you should make Findarato and Findekano pretty too.” Nelyafinwë said giving the two of them a smirk, watching them clam up as the little elfling began to excitedly clamber away. Reaching immediately for the elastics,
“Nelyo- Wait- But-” But it was too late little Vanifinwë had descended upon Findarato, with her brush and elastics in hand. Ready to make him and Findekano pretty too.
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Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @anunexpectedsideblog @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @pretty-shiny-silmarils
#Maedhros#Nelyafinwe#Nelyo#Russandol#Maitimo#Vanifinwe#Anamartinde#Faelendis#Faeleth#sons of feanor#oc#tolkien oc#original character#tolkien original character#jrr tolkien#tolkien#the silm#the silmarillion#silm#silmarillion#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#imagine#imagines#one shot#one shots#headcanon#headcanons#theelvenhaven
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do you have any good female fics to rec?
DO I. LOL. Putting this immediately under a cut because there are a lot! There are so many talented writers in this fandom who do ENORMOUS justice to female characters, both original and book-based. Couple of blog recs at the bottom too!
(I'm assuming this is asking for Tolkien fanfic since that's mostly what I'm on about these days, but if you'd rather see Mass Effect or Dragon Age I can do that too.)
I'm glad you asked! φ(*￣0￣)
I'm going to keep all of these to 1 rec per author just so we don't get totally out of control here.
Forging Gold by @swanmaids ft. Curufin's wife, Dwarf OCs. Heather is an amazing source of female character fic in this fandom; she has well-developed OCs for all of Feanor's daughters-in-law and treats canon female characters with such care and love. Absolutely recommend checking out the rest of her stuff!
Prick a Finger, Cut Your Hand by @welcomingdisaster ft. Indis, Miriel. A really great look at the dynamic between these two. Lena has lots of other good takes on female Tolkien characters too!
Friendship and Stern Demand by @polutrope ft. Elwing. Fantastic exploration of what the communications between Elwing and Maedhros might have looked like!
Untitled by @outofangband ft. Aerin, Morwen. Nelyo focuses a lot on the human characters so if you want to read more about what the mortal women went through in the First Age, definitely browse through their blog!
Abide, Abound by Elleth ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Elleth also has lots of works centering on female Tolkien characters.
And by their blazing signify that a great princess falls, but doth not die by TheLionInMyBed ft. Elwing. One of my favorite takes on Elwing's suicide.
Keeper of Kings by batshape ft. Lalwen. What did Lalwen get up to in Middle-earth? Seeing a lot of people die, for one thing.
Into the Heart of a Fey Thing by @amethysttribble ft. Aredhel, Galadriel, Luthien. Fun "behind-the-scenes" look at some adventures with these three!
A Fish Hook, an Open Eye by simaetha ft. Elwing, f!Maglor. Fascinating AU take on a meeting between Elwing and Maglor prior to the Third Kinslaying.
The Sleep of Flowers by Innin ft. Galadriel, Melian. Very beautiful scene, and plenty of other female-centric works by Innin!
Light Words About Nothing by Margo_Kim ft. Dis, Belladonna. I ship it.
Elwing's Strategy by lifeisyetfair ft. Elwing. Another great take on Elwing at the Third Kinslaying.
Out of Dreams, Into the Sun by solanaceae ft. Miriel, Indis.
Games and Fantasy by Genesis_Grey ft. Arwen, Eowyn. Ohh it captures that chivalric WLW so well.
Over the Unclear Eyes of Memory by Loriand_Lost ft. Anaire, Aredhel. Addresses Anaire's complicated feelings about Fingolfin's return to Valinor. This author also has a number of other great female-centric fics, highly recommend!
The Carriage Held but Just Ourselves by @starspray ft. Luthien, Elwing, Arwen. Amazing look at the line of Thingol's relationship with death. This author also has a whole series on Lalwen and an OFC!
Before the Breath of Storm by tinnurin ft. Dis, Dwarf OC. "Behind-the-scenes" look at the Dwarves before the battle of Azanulbizar.
This Now, This Us by crownlessliestheking ft. Indis, Miriel. Indis and Miriel talk after Miriel's return to Valinor.
The Tapestry by Zdenka ft. Thedowyn, Miriel. The ghost of Miriel Serinde offers some aid. This author also has a lot of female-centric works!
Not Undevoted by SatiricalDraperies ft. Galadriel, Melian.
Winter Sea by Tallulah ft. Finduilas, OFC. Finduilas had a girlfriend in the Falas. Another author with a great selection of female-centric works.
The Hunt by @cuarthol ft. Amarie. Amarie is trans and closeted in Valinor, but Finrod understands.
Come Home to Chaos (Get a Crush on a Queen) by ncfan ft. Arwen, Firiel. When Firiel of Gondor takes refuge in Rivendell, Arwen takes an interest.
Do I Hurt to Hold? by Anonymous ft. Galadriel, Melian. A darker look at their relationship.
That Time Elanor Gardner Had A Crush On Her Employer by Anonymous ft. Arwen, Elanor.
All My Shadows Fade by amyfortuna ft. Arwen, OFC. Unsent letter from a female friend of Arwen's as her wedding to Aragorn approaches. This author is also a good one to look at for more female-centric fic!
Orlaya by yeaka ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Cute!
Of All the Stars, the Fairest by whatiwouldnotgive ft. Arwen, Eowyn.
Or They Would Go On Aching Still by Farasha ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Oh, the grief!
Berrypicking Time by swamp_diamonds ft. Finduilas, Nienor.
Things They Don't Talk About by eris_of_imladris ft. Findis. Findis and Feanor have a complicated relationship.
Easily Sever What Never was One by vauquelin ft. Haleth. If you like Halenthir at all as a ship, you'll like this.
The One With All The Birds by clothono ft. Elwing, Nerdanel. I've said it before I'll say it again--my favorite Elwing fic.
Greensleeves by bravelittlscrib ft. Nerdanel. Little scenes of Nerdanel's life and her relationships.
Emerie by the_artifice_of_eternity ft. Erendis, Ancalime. Ancalime's last visit with her mother before taking the throne.
In the Family by arriviste ft. Celebrian, Galadriel.
At the Water's Edge by crackinthecup ft. Elwing, Idril.
And that's what I've got for you right now, I hope that helps! I would also advise checking out the blogs @tolkien-heroines and @sapphictolkien both of which focus on female characters in Tolkien's work. Happy reading, anon! ♪(^∇^*)
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your tolkien edits are always so lovely, do you have graphics editors that inspire you?
hey anon.. would you perhaps want to join me in a small and tumbledown cliff-side castle by the shining sea within whose shelter we can spend the rest of our days. circle yes or no
anyways!! tumblr is the school of athens and i am but a humble student sitting at the feet of greater talents, so here are a few of my biggest editing inspirations for your happy perusal:
@himemiyaaah / @tarninausta - probably my original editing inspiration back when i took my first waddling steps into making graphics myself! rosie just has such an amazing command of color, style, balance, etc.. her edits are so beautiful and harmonious, and i love her expressive use of text.
@miriel-therindes - also someone i discovered early on! i swear there isn't a form lyndeth hasn't tried her hand at and succeeded with in high style. her incredible sense and editing of colors and creative typography are just !!!
@arwenindomiel /@edwinas - the enormously talented mastermind behind tolkien south asian week! her edits are striking and have a real cinematic feel with bold, gorgeously cohesive color palettes (her dramatic shadows are spectacular) as well as innovative use of text and other graphic elements that just tie it all together each time.
@emyn-arnens - save me atlas of arda series atlas of arda series save me !! whenever i need inspiration on how to make dynamic edits that don't include people, i go to this master of her craft. her colors mesh so well together, her formatting is creative and refreshing, and her photo choices are on point. whence does her power flow.
@aredhels - so elegant and sleek! sari is so good at using all the parts of her edits to evoke the desired mood--for lack of a better word, everything she makes is just so aesthetic. i love her understated, low-text style and how she can make incredibly compelling edits just with her impeccable image choices and color editing. and besides all that she singlehandedly gave me the confidence to experiment with the eight-image picspam format yayay
@tilions - legendary user of non-text elements! i honestly have no idea how emily comes out with some of the image layering that they do. her edits feel professional-grade (hoping tentatively that this is a comparison that makes sense but who knows). she makes such bold color choices! it's easy to be scared off by bright palettes but apparently emily is immune to aesthetic fear. she also concocts these amazing silhouette edits that are like those 70s nasa posters and it's. so cool.
@russingon - i want to imbibe mayim's delicious color palettes into myself for real. something about them is so distinctive and pleasing! how much punch he can pack into a two-image edit never ceases to astound. i'm especially fond of their family/house edits (i love seeing their great faceclaim choices all together)!
@brighter-arda - toi is so endlessly committed to making the tolkien fandom a more diverse, inclusive, and accepting space, and i really admire all the work she puts in to uplift other creators. her own edits have really interesting and creative themes and formatting, and it's wonderful how she always incorporates meaningful elements of the character's culture.
@someoneinthestars - their use of darker colors is so evocative, and i love their latine tolkien series! they often align text to elements within the image, which takes such precision (i've only done it once, i think!), but when they do it it always comes out gorgeously.. awuagh.
@outofangband - the attention and research nelyo puts into their environmental edits could power three mid-size cities and i have nothing but respect for them and their dedication. honestly i think they know more about the ecology of middle earth than tolkien himself did when he made it (and he also never made edits about it, so another point to nelyo)!
anyways, this is only a cross-section of the plethora of amazing and talented people i get to share this community with, but i hope it was what you were looking for anon! many many thanks for giving me the ever-welcomed opportunity to kvell a little over some of my favorite creators, and as always, many many thanks to those creators themselves for sharing their spectacular works ♡♡♡
#i hope you have a safe + happy day anon :]#call and response#the professor's world#btw if any of you would like to not be tagged here just let me know and it shall be banished#edits with the wild hunt#brought to you by me
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I've just watched the lion king 2 and all I can think about rn is
Brave, but it's Fëanorians
Like Merida gets angry at her mother goes to the witch , gets a weird cookie that changes her mother into a bear....
Now let's imagine that with the Fëanorians
like back in Valinor, when they're still children (Mae & Mags being adults/ Mags being almost an adult)
imagine that they would get angry at Mae , for whatever reason, he told them to clean their rooms or idk whatever
so there we have Celery , Curufin & Ambarussa going to some weird-ass Maia , who gives them some weird-ass , let's maybe stick with the original concept of cookie
they come back home and give it to Maedhros....
..... and he changes into a lion (definitely not an aftermath of me thinking about how Simba looks sm like lion version of Mae while I was watching the King Lion)
they all go ,,oh shit , what now?????"
they drag Caranthir into that like ,,bro, we have quite a trouble here" ; plz I have this need for young Moryo just wanting to mind his own business, but NOOOOO 'cause he happens to have chaotic brothers (again definitely not me headcanoning that Moryo was Nelyo's #1 fav brother after Magsie)
And as for Magsie , let's have him old enough to have his own life, so he comes back home from some concert or a date ,just to idk grab something, anyway, he comes home and wants to go straight to Mae because Nelyo is The Eldest Daughter TM and Fëanorian household hardly survives a day and definitely wouldn't survive a week without him ~ he's the fastest way to get anything dealt with in that fuckin' house
And he knows something's off when he can't find him anywhere, so he looks at his other siblings, and they also seem quite off to him , so he goes ,,what did you do?????" *someone probably starts crying at this point and also then there's Lion!Nelyafinwë (uploads an image of Simba here) in the background (playing with Finno or something)
and from this point they have to change their big bro back asap, preferably before Nerdanel & Fëanor notice anything
#silmarillion#the silmarillion#the feanorians#feanorians#lion!maedhros#maedhros#maglor#celegorm#caranthir#curufin#amrod#amras#ambarussa#silmarillion au#valinor#years of the trees#i would be honored if someone liked that idea and wrote a fic#I enjoy concept of lion!maedhros looking like simba waaaaay too much
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Hi Echo! Tell us about Those Towers We Built? Love your art too, by the way! :D
Thank you so much! 💙
Oh my, those towers we built is a fave but I feel like I've talked about it on here more than I've written it xD
The original post that kicked it off is here. It's a canon divergence from the end of the First Age where the Valar decided to wipe the memories of everyone in Aman of the entire First Age, thinking they could erase the trauma and its causes. But the bulk of the story takes place in the late Third Age, both in Aman and Middle-Earth.
With Celebrían on the verge of fading, Elrond prays for a way West for her—not to the Valar, but to his father, Eärendil, whose star disappeared from the sky two ages ago. Eärendil, one of the only people in Aman to remember everything, takes Celebrían to Tirion, kicking off great and unforeseen changes for everyone.
Here's a snippet:
“I wish to swear fealty to the King of the Noldor in Aman,” Celebrían offers.
Her words flow freely and smoothly, quite unlike when she had first come, and Nelyo almost doesn’t catch the odd phrasing. There aren’t Noldor anywhere but in Aman – why the addition? But he nods and she launches into her oath, with a wording, despite her slight accent, that would have belonged to the court of his grandfather.
Nelyo replies in kind, the words flowing gracefully out of his mouth. He is reminded, unbidden, of his first stumbling steps in court on his own, his own oath to Finwë upon his coming of age – the first of the grandchildren, the heir of Fëanor himself, it had been a city-wide event.
There are few people in the throne room now, thankfully. Celebrían chose her time well. She looks better than she did when he saw her first. She’s filled out, her skin regaining a healthy shine, and there is a timid but real smile on her face.
“Gladly do I welcome you to Tirion, Celebrían Celeborniel,” Nelyo finishes, carefully enunciating the foreign names. “I am happy to see you well enough to come back.”
Ask me about my WIPs
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Feanorian Week Day Seven: Feanaro and Nerdanel
140 FO
"They're supposed to arrive today," I tell Mother over my tea cup.
She decided to drag me from my desk in the castle to enjoy a small break with her. At the manor, no less. We could have gone anywhere in Tirion, but we had to go home.
I'm not mad about it, but this means I could be here when they arrive. I wasn’t expecting to see them until dinner. I had time to rein in my emotions but now I may not.
I'm supposed to be Arafinwe's chief advisor and head of state. I take care of nearly everything for him like I did for Oropher and Thranduil in their respective ruling of the Eryn Lasgalen.
Father, Grandfather and Grandmother are set to arrive in Tirion today. They should go to the castle to see Arafinwe first, but I have a sneaking suspicion they are coming here first. I’d have been fine greeting them there but again I think they’ll come here.
Mother hasn't seen Father since we left in 1495. I haven't seen Grandfather since he was murdered twelve feet from me. As for Grandmother, neither Mother nor I have met her. She's been in Mandos since before either of us was born.
"That's what has you fired up?" She asks, raising her eyebrow.
"Yes," I gulp some tea down to avoid a longer answer.
"Dana, darling, you're getting married next week, and your Father, Grandfather and Grandmother arriving is what has you more fired up than a smithy." Mother snorts in an attempt to hold back her nervous laughter.
An understatement. I feel like I'm holding back a torrent of flames and heat, and holding it back is so strenuous that I've begun to shake.
"Yes,"
"You'd think I'd be more...more..."
"More fired up than me?" I offer loosely drawing on my skills as a wordsmith.
"Yes,"
"Dana, there are three people coming up the drive. One has silver hair like Turca," Tauriel's voice filters into the sunroom. I'd ask what could have possibly torn her away from her drawing with Nelyo, but when someone has hair like Turca, there can only be one person it belongs to.
The art room and the sunroom overlook the drive. I could see if it’s them. I twist in the arm chair and try to catch a glimpse of the three people. Sure enough there are three people walking up the drive. One has silver hair and the other two have dark brown hair.
Oh, sweet Varda, they're here.
I plop my tea cup onto the side table and stare at Mother. She looks as nervous as I feel. Oh valar.
I slide my legs off the arm of the armchair and stand. Together, Mother and I exit the sunroom. Nelyo meets us in the hall and walks with us to the front entry.
Tauriel silently walks behind us, muttering about our or rather my relatives, trying to figure out who they are. She then comes upon the answer and gasps.
At the front entry we don’t have to wait long for the doors to open. In fact it’s as we’re arriving that they open.
Standing on the other side of the doors are the very people I expected. Grandfather, Grandmother and Father. The original royal family. Finally, complete after all this time.
“Feaelenion,” Grandfather smiles.
“Grandfather,” I whisper.
Then, in an instant, he opens his arms for a hug like he did all those years ago. I surge forward, tears streaming down my face and fold myself into the hug. It's everything I've been wanting all these years.
I feel Grandfather lift his arms from my back and beckon Nelyo over. My brother instantly envelopes me and Grandfather in his arms. And suddenly, I'm fifty again.
“Forgive me, my dearest,” Father weeps between gasps. “forgive me,”
“I have. You are forgiven,” Mother murmurs. "You have been for some time,"
I detach myself from Grandfather and Nelyo to watch my parents. Father is kneeling and hugging Mother's waist as tightly as he can, from what I can tell. Mother is leaning down and murmuring into the top of his head.
Both have tears streaming down their cheeks.
I wipe my own tears from my face and beckon Tauriel over. She wonders closer in a daze as if realizing I wasn't exaggerating when I said I look identical to my Grandfather.
"Grandfather, this is Tauriel my oldest,"
"Your oldest," A feminine voice, not belonging to Mother, says. "How many do you have?"
"Two," I smile, glancing at the small female with silver hair. A clear relation to Father and the hair Turca inherited. "My youngest is Aravel. He's currently out with Nanwe,"
"As in the lord, Finwe mentioned you were courting?" Grandmother asks.
"I still am,"
"Dana, you're getting married to him in a week," Tauriel states as if it were plainer than my nose.
"Are we not allowed to court up until then?"
Tauriel sputters, then blows a raspberry at me. Delightful use of words, darling. Delightful.
"They are...your own?" Grandmother tentatively asks. She eyes me and my daughter.
It's quite clear that Tauriel and I do not resemble one another. Her red hair could have been inherited from Mother if she was my child, but he skin colour? That is far too dark to be mine or Nanwe's.
I'd have her no other way. She is beautiful as is. A perfect addition to my family.
"No, they're adopted. If I were to have a child of my own body, I'd turn out like you, Grandmother," I tell her as I pull Tauriel into my side for a hug.
"Oh,"
"How do you know?" Grandfather asks.
Oh, dear valar. So many questions, and it's not even over dinner. I sigh and tell them I was told by Iluvatar. Which is true. It just wasn't in person.
"YOU WHERE WHAT?" Father asks, tearing his and Mother's attention from each other.
"It was the night I'd accepted Nanwe as my intended," I sigh, remembering the night clearly as if it were yesterday. "He slipped into my dreams that night and said if I were to bear a child I would end up like my Grandmother,"
"Why did you not say something?" Nelyo asks. He saw me that morning after. I was shaken, and he knew me well enough then to know something happened.
He was so sure it was Nanwe that he nearly broke exile to tear Nanwe's head off. It took me sitting on his chest to get him to stop. I had to tell him I had a nightmare to get him to back off.
"It wasn't a big deal. Nanwe and I had just accepted one another, and children were so far off. It wasn't a pressing issue,"
Tauriel pulls on my sleeve. She's looking directly at Father. "Uncle Curvo wasn't lying when he said he looked exactly like Grandfather,"
"No he wasn't,"
"Did you say, Grandfather?" Father asks Tauriel. Father's head snaps to Tauriel standing by me.
Tauriel nods.
Father swears and gingerly picks her up in a hug and twirls her around while murmuring, "A grandchild. A grandchild. A grandchild,"
Mother and I share a smile. We had many conversations over the past month depicting what his reaction will be to Tauriel and Aravel. What his reaction to Mother will be. How she will react and how my siblings will react.
"She's also a smith," Nelyo mentions.
Father places Tauriel down and asks her if this is true. At her nod Father pulls her into a tight hug. Mother chuckles and attaches herself to her husband and grandchild.
#danafinwe feaelenion feanorian#feanaro#nerdanel#feanorianweek#feanor#nelyafinwe#kanafinwe#turcafinwe#morifinwe#feanorianweek2024#ambarussa#amras#amrod#celegorm#caranthir#curufin#makalaure#maedhros#maglor#maitimo#finwe#mirel#arafinwe#nolofinwe#tauriel feanorian#aravel feanorian
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Welcome to my blog
Before you enter I feel the need to warn you; you are entering a world of chaos and hyperfixation over things that are sometimes very normal and sometimes very niche.
My friends call me Nelyo (because I’m just not very original with nicknames). I’m a grumpy nonbinary ginger in their late twenties who still hasn’t quite figured out how to human.
I am a neuroscience major but in fact you will hardly ever find any science related content here. What you are likely about to find is the following:
⚔️The Silmarillion
📼The Magnus Archives and not exactly well contained excitement about the Magnus Protocol.
🎭My RP endeavours connected to the previous two.
📚 Other fandom stuff
🪡Book cosplay, costume design, sewing, historical sewing
Art relating to all of these.
My secondary account focused on history: @neylo
If you want to join my Silmarillion server, feel free to DM me. ♥️
In case you are curious about anything, or just want a chat, just drop me a DM. If you are a bot and want to send me a porn link, please don’t.
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For Secret Dating Things:
Accidental clothing share ~ Finrod/Maedhros
Secret Dating Things
Findaráto normally did not think much whenever he would dress for council. He would open that part of his closet which housed his Noldorin clothing, and he would pull out of it the first tunic he would lay his hands on, and from there build the rest of the look for the day. He does the same thing that morning -- open the closet, snatch something (something of chocolate brown hue), survey it, and then accessorize to match.
His golden hair he styles with two braids streaming up from the side of his face, then he pulls his locks into a ponytail. Accessories as follows: silver and garnets, with matching drop earrings to match -- three on each earlobe. Rings, two on each alternating finger.
Perfect.
He walks to the palace; loathe to bring horse or carriage -- and anyway walks are fun, and lets him greet many people and run into his friends, which he absolutely delights in. What is originally a ten-minute walk from his house to his grandfather's palace turns into an hour-long affair. Oops.
Findaráto picked up a basket of fruits to share with those present in the council. He likes to nibble now and then, and he finds himself easily hungry especially if they're looking at an intense day. His Atar used to forbid him to eat, nagging at him that it looks bad, as if he was not being fed at home. But Finwë never minded, and so Findaráto stopped paying heed to Arafinwë's protests.
Finno is already there, seated and sorting papers. They exchange greetings just as Findaráto puts his basket of fruits at the middle of the long table. He picks out a perfectly ripened dragon fruit and sets it on the empty plate by their grandfather's place at the head of the table.
"You two are early," comes a familiar voice.
He turns around only slowly. Surprise on his lovely features -- he and Nelyo are wearing the exact same tunic: same cloth, same cut, same pattern -- only different accessories. They look startled. Finno's eyes dart from one to another, before he bursts out laughing. Nelyo laughs as well, and Findaráto laughs too.
"Did you two plan this via ósanwe?" Finno snickers as he helps himself to a pear from Findaráto's basket.
"Ah, no, no," Nelyo continues sniggering. "I should change, I should--." He gestures vaguely toward the door.
Findaráto shakes his head. "Oh no. No, no. Let's make grandfather laugh today, shall we?"
But between their minds, another conversation takes place.
Mmmm, you look beautiful, Nelyo croons at him.
You too. I'd delight peeling off that tunic from you later, Findaráto purrs back.
Finno, ever perceptive, darts a glance between the two of them again, but says nothing. Oh he knows, though. He knows.
@antares0606
#my drabs#silmarillion#maedhros#finrod#maitimo#nelyafinwe#findarato#ingoldo#maedhros/finrod#murder elf#golden poster boy#murder elf and golden poster boy#glissando
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Endless
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Rating: M
Relationships: Maedhros/fem!OC
Characters: Maedhros, Celegorm, Curufin, Maglor, Caranthir, Fingon, Fingolfin, Amrod, Amras, Original Elf Character(s), Sauron, more to be added
Tags and warnings: alternating POV, Recovery, Trauma, Beleriand, The Sindar, The Noldor, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dehumanization, Flashbacks, Past Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Mental Anguish, Survivor Guilt, Past Abuse, Alternate Universe, Psychosis, Internalized ableism, POV Original Character, Maedhros POV, more tags coming
Also on AO3
Summary:
I decided to post this ongoing fanfiction story here as well. Very AU. I took many liberties.
"There Maedhros in time was healed; for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart;"
The Silmarillion, Of the Return of the Noldor
Maedhros is assigned help to aid in his recovery. Post-Thangorodrim. Follows canon timeline, weaved with alternate universe elements.
Chapter warning: depictions of past abuse
I. What makes a king
“I need no attendant.”
His words were a low mutter as Maedhros stared down at the bony knuckles of his scarred hand splayed upon the wooden desk. He raised his gaze to his brother with a grimace, the emaciated dips in his features all the deeper in the flickering candlelight of the wide royal tent.
Maglor ran a hand through his dark hair, looking briefly at Curufin standing by his side with an unreadable expression on his sharp face. He sighed, his gaze alighting on the grey-blue eyes of his eldest brother.
“Nelyo,” Maglor began kindly, “I understand your misgivings, I do. You know we are here, we are always here to aid you in everything you need, to the best of our abilities. But think of this as an added measure of support. Think of this person as your aide. You’ve come so far, but we must continue therapy regularly to rebuild your muscles and regain more of your strength. Tyelko also tells me you expressed an interest in learning to write with your left hand, yes?”
A line twitched in Maedhros’ jaw, his eyes still on his healthy hand, his knotted fingers. His stump ached still, the pressure in the air enhancing the strain to his joints and raising the lingering aches in his ligaments to a flare. He frowned, stifling a groan.
“What is it?” Maglor asked with sudden urgency even as Curufin also took a step forward.
Maedhros curbed their concern with a vague wave of his hand, before pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled a tired huff of air. “And this you tell me now, where before you did not for a second think to consult with me, the one most affected by this decision.” Despite his words, he had to curb this selfishness, as he was loath to ask more of them than they had already given. His brothers were there, guiding his every step through the murk of the last gruelling months, patiently, beseechingly hedging him from the abyss and back to a semblance of his former self. But for all his efforts, still at times he felt the rot of dungeons in his nostrils, still reality warped and toppled, and tents became dark cavernous underbellies, and the memory of poisonous airs melting blistering skin made him ill.
“Because only last night did I remember the Grey-elves who had at one time helped me study their language throughout our dealings,” said Curufin. “Further, their healers have extensive knowledge of herbs and healing drawn from the resources of these lands, which they had shared with us along the years; ones that, coupled with what written knowledge we had brought from Tirion, enabled us to help you thus far. I’ve spoken to their chieftain, and they’ve agreed, in sign of good faith, for one skilled of their own to assist you in your daily recuperatory needs, and teach you their language far better than any of us could.”
All sensible arguments. Maedhros sighed, and guilt gnawed at him. He was useless, still useless like this, the king returned but incapable of leading their scattered people. Maglor and his brothers shared responsibilities during his absence, though Maglor had worn the crown of leadership, and desperately Maedhros wished to relieve them of the added burdens they shouldered since his return. He lifted his gaze to the tired faces of his kin. “Very well,” he said finally, wearied and slumping back into his chair. “Your judgment I have trusted before, and here I stand. I suppose there is no harm in doing so again.”
His brothers nodded, the drain of strain visible on their faces. “We will relay your decision accordingly.”
“And when will I meet them?” Maedhros asked, though his question lacked genuine interest, appearing thoughtful as he rose. The stumble in his step when he walked away from his desk drew a swift reaction from Maglor, who barely kept himself from lunging forward. Maedhros pretended not to see — indeed, he felt enough remorse as it was, for what he’d put them through — and continued his path to reach the bed. He sat down with difficulty, mustering all the strength of his yet weakened limbs. He bit down on his lip, staring at his right hand still held in a sling, then at his boots. His auburn brows furrowed and with determination Maedhros bent down and extended his left hand to undo the lacings; a stab of pain changed his face, and no sooner did he blink than Curufin was there, kneeling and completing the task for him.
“On the morrow,” Curufin said. “On the morrow, brother. We will send word tonight.”
Maedhros watched his younger brother’s skilled fingers at work, movements hasty and sure, and dread took him again at the futility of his efforts thus far. He could walk unattended, he had regained his memories with his brothers’ aid. He no longer balked or started at the barest hint of closeness or a raised arm above his head. But he could also barely cross farther than the stretch of a few tents, he could not sleep for fear of what lurked in his own mind, and though he tried filling his days with learnings and readjusting himself to life in these foreign lands, he knew little of them and their peoples; even less he knew of their Grey-elven kindred or their tongue. Much he had missed indeed of the world, swathed in Angband’s iron curtains.
Whatever words were exchanged passed quickly from his consciousness, and his brothers retired, but not before asking whether one of them should stay with him for the night. Maedhros shook his head as he often did lately, and though hesitant, they left him.
Breathing in relief, as he lay alone in bed with the itch of the sling upon his skin and the odd, phantom feeling of his severed hand, he tried not to let darkness encroach. His cantankerous thoughts ebbed with the flickering candles, swaying and turning into repulsive, dripping maws, and hardly did he fight against them. Gripping the sheets with the stain of tears upon his drawn face, the eldest son of Fëanor resigned himself to another sleepless night.
Mithiel sighed, watching her father as he filled her medicinal satchel with the needed supplies.
“I confess, this does not seem as wise a decision now that its outcome is upon me,” she murmured, fastening a dark blue fur-lined cloak around her shoulders.
Mithes nodded, stuffing the bag with carefully wrapped packages. A fragrant, heady scent of dried plant matter filled the air. “I understand. But remember, it is only temporary.” He neared, and placed his hands on Mithiel’s sagging shoulders. “In truth, I was not wholly selfless when offering our aid to the foreign host. After all, there are many of them.”
Mithiel crossed her arms. “And much better armed, and their skills surpass our own in many things. It would do well for us to befriend them, is what you mean.”
Her father smiled. “I think you would do well among them. While our kindreds were sundered long ago, I believe an alliance with our brethren hailing from the West will bear ripe fruit.” He strung the ties of her bag together, appearing satisfied, then looked upon his daughter with kindness in his eyes. “But if any manner of foresight tells you it is unwise to venture among them, even for such a feat as we have agreed to perform, you have but to say it; and I will tell them we have reconsidered.”
Tempting as it was, Mithiel shook her head. She trusted her abilities; she had taught and aided many with her skill, not few of which had escaped the clutches of the night hordes. “I could not bring dishonor upon you or our tribe in such a manner. If they asked it of us, they with all their might and wisdom, then the need must be truly dire, though I know not the measure of success my efforts will bring, if any at all.”
Mithes weighed her words, reaching for a few bottles set atop a tall shelf. “This I have told them as well. Still, they are eager to try, if you would be willing.” Her father placed the bottles and flasks in another bag, then neared and reached for his daughter. He cupped her cheek; his fingers smelled of dried alfirin and Mithiel inhaled deeply, for their memory would assuage her fears in the coming trials.
“I only hope, their king is not prone to kingly airs, of the kind we have seen all too often in far Doriath,” she smirked, and a manner of mischief stole in her grey eyes. She had little time and patience to spare for the gloating of High Elves, no matter their prowess or the richness of their craft.
Her father laughed, the sounds rising to a trill in the peaceful silence of their abode. But just as swiftly his mirth died, and he glanced sadly at his daughter. “This, I know not. But they say the injuries that befell him are no mere trifles, and they are wise enough to see the road to betterment will be long and difficult. This you know, you have seen it before.”
Mithiel looked outside the window of their home, her eyes lost in memory. “Yes, I have.”
“Send messengers often,” Mithes urged. “I want to know how you are faring. They agreed to provide for all your needs while you dwell among them, and while I trust their honor, it is you that matters to me the most.”
Mithiel fell into her father’s embrace, nodding against his neck. “I will not disappoint you.”
Mithes rested his chin atop her head, swaying with her gently in his arms. “Cross such thoughts from your mind. They should be grateful to have one of your skill aiding them.” He paused in thought before saying, “The twin lords, the king’s brothers, will arrive shortly to escort you to their encampment. I’ve prepared your horse.”
Mithiel’s eyes went wide. “Goodness me, how many of them are there?”
“Seven brothers, I am told,” her father grinned, releasing her from his arms.
Mithiel said nothing, wondering how she would fare; both father and daughter stilled as the clopping of hooves echoed from afar.
Mithes placed his hands firmly on his daughter’s straight shoulders, smiling at the flash of resolve in her eyes. “Remember our teachings, but also to learn from them as much as you can. Remember your patience, and—”
“...do not stray far from the path,” Mithiel finished for him. “I know.”
Her father’s gaze softened, and he brought his forehead to hers. “Until we meet again.”
They heard riders dismounting outside and the cold rustle of chainmaille. Mithiel swallowed the thickness clogging her throat, her gaze set on the door. “I am ready.”
“Steady now,” Celegorm said, in a tone both soft and hedging, an unusual change from his snappy demeanor. Gently he lifted Maedhros’ right arm, now temporarily free of its sling.
“Can you hold like this, while I slide the sleeve on?”
“Yes,” Maedhros sighed in answer, though his face scrunched in silent agony as with careful movements his brother dressed him in a thin undershirt, then helped him into a thicker, crimson over-tunic.
After buttoning his garment up to the stiff silver-embroidered collar, Celegorm moved to a slender table and took a comb in hand, set upon conquering the messy auburn tangle of his brother’s hair. The once rich, shining mane reminiscent of their grandfather Mahtan was now a matted, limp mass, barely reaching his shoulders.
“I bet you are unduly eager for these tedious duties to pass from you,” Maedhros murmured, his lips curving upward in something that might have been a smile once. He often mused on the irony of it; as children, he was the one appointed to ready his younger siblings in this fashion, that is, if he could fish the eager troublemakers from the various ponds or glades dispersed around their home.
Somewhere in another corner of the tent, Curufin snapped his book shut. Huan, who was lying by his feet, sleepily raised his head at the noise, before yawning so wide the floors rumbled. “Not true, brother,” he said, running a soft, bootless foot over the hound’s warm hide. “We are positively ecstatic for it to be so.”
He kept a straight face, but Maedhros huffed and Celegorm rolled his eyes. It was Curufin who'd devised many if not most contraptions meant to ease Maedhros’ discomfort as best they could in the immediate aftermath of his return. He was the only one who never despaired, the one who always kept his wits about him, before the others, at least. It was once, only once, that Maedhros had felt his brother, seated at his bedside during the early days of his convalescence; drowning in a shade of despair so deep it reached even Maedhros in his delirium and though they never spoke of it, the soft inflections of his brother’s weeping stayed with him ever after.
He rebounded to reality when an object gleamed before his eyes as Celegorm reached to place his circlet upon his brow. Instinctually he jerked away, and for a moment terror seized him, and he stared at the copper sheen with something akin to dismay.
Celegorm paused in his movement, as though faced with a frightened creature of the forest. “It… it is yours,” he said, mild bemusement on his face.
“Of… of course,” Maedhros licked his lips, steadying the drum of his heart and the rise in his breathing. “I only…”
From the corner of the enclosure, he could feel Curufin’s eyes burning into him. “I have not seen it… have not worn it, in so long… so long a time...”
His voice gained that faraway note he could never seem to control, always setting everyone on edge. He loathed it.
“By right, it is yours,” Curufin stated, the calm veneer a shield about him as he rose and strode to his brother. “And your people are here for you. With time, and patience, we will rebuild all that was lost. From the Foe’s very ashes. He lost you, Nelyo.”
Under his brothers’ watchful eyes he reached for the circlet, and stared at Curufin, at the conviction in his smoldering gaze, the cold features imbued with a steady albeit prideful fire. He could only marvel time and again at how alike their father Curufin could be when the foundations of his belief were put to the test, whether by himself or others.
Huan had padded slowly over to him, wet nose seeking, and with a tight smile and a shaking hand Maedhros ran his fingers through the smoothness of his coat. “When will they arrive? Ambarussa and the Grey-elf.”
Celegorm reached for his cloak set upon the bed, fastening it around his shoulders. “By estimation, they ought to be here at sundown.”
Taken by a strange fit of curiosity, Maedhros asked, “What are they like?”
Celegorm clicked his tongue and scrunched his straight nose. He shrugged. “Like us.”
“Brother, your perceptiveness never ceases to astound me,” Curufin muttered, then himself turned to Maedhros. “They have a healthy sense of honor, and that will always prove an advantage. They possess a wealth of knowledge, and even Tyelko here fell short before their herb lore, didn’t you, Tyelko?”
Celegorm waved a hand, appearing facetiously affronted. “Once or twice.”
It seemed his brothers knew precious little else, and so Maedhros decided to relieve them; after all, it was his decision whether he found this intervention useful, and he would soon see for himself.
“We will come for you,” Curufin cut into his thought, turning away. “I almost forgot. I left you quill, ink and parchment as requested.” He pointed to the dark desk lined with said utensils.
“Is there anything else you need?” asked Celegorm, bidding Huan over to him.
“Peace,” Maedhros offered with the wry mockery of a smile, though it was easily the lightest answer he could give; the shadow of a jest.
“So dismissive are the princes of the Ñoldor in their whims!” Celegorm grinned at Curufin, arranging the sheet of his silver hair so it draped over his heavy cloak.
A cheeky smile brimmed on Curufin’s face as he beheld Maedhros. “Káno and Moryo are not yet back from their trip to the lake’s northern shores, but we will not be far.”
With that, Celegorm left the tent, and Curufin made to follow.
“Thank you, Curvo.”
Curufin stopped at the words, his hand pausing mid air before parting the thick tent flap. Maedhros waited, wondering, but his brother resumed his stride in silence, engulfed by the mists that hovered over the encampment like pale shrouds.
Having little else to do and having sifted through enough reports for the day already, Maedhros gained his feet and neared his desk. If nothing else, distractions would keep his mind occupied. His brothers were gone to the North side, meeting with Fingon and negotiating their renewed and all too frail collaboration with the people of Fingolfin. A stab of tenderness and regret clove through him at the thought of his cousin, and the wrath he surely had wrought upon his head for his deed. But in retrospect, Maedhros was certain even Fingolfin saw the outcome of his rescue as beneficial to them all. Maedhros loved his father, and the sight of him lashed and broken by the whips of the Valaraukar he would never forget, and he missed his parents all the more and had cried for them like a child in his torment. But the truth remained, stripped bare like the bones of carrion left to rot in the sun; their exile had pitted kin against kin, left them bloodstained, chained to an oath they could never break, and close, so very close to utter ruin.
The chair creaked mournfully as Maedhros sat down, and with a gesture both careless and disgusted, removed the circlet from his head. Curufin’s words rang in his ears.
“By right, it is yours.”
“No, brother,” Maedhros stared emptily ahead, listening to the rain that began in a drizzle and pattered against the canvas of the tent. “It is not.”
Righteous fury gilded in regret and guilt blazed red hot within him, and determined, the Elf raised his good hand upon the desk. He glanced at the shimmer of the circlet, reddish gold in the candlelight. In his heart, he knew what had to be done.
He looked at the empty piece of parchment set before him. He placed the bandaged stump of his wrist carefully upon it, grasped the quill in the clumsy grip of his left hand and dipped it in the small bottle of ink. Pressing the tip upon the rough surface, he wrote.
Esteemed uncle,
For long our hosts have dwelt divided yet close upon these shores that have become our new home. We cannot undo the past however much I wish it but were you willing, I would take steps to mend the distance yawning between us. I remember you saying once, before we had set out of Tirion to meet our fates, that strength lies in unity. Your words stayed with me then, and I still find truth in them.
If you would consider it, I wish to invite…
His tengwar ran in strange, engorged swirls upon the surface with the scratch of the quill, skidding haplessly towards the right. He could do it. He was doing it. And if he failed, he would try again. His brow furrowed in concentration and his fingers cramped, but he continued with the same relentless obstinacy that had served him both well and ill throughout his life. Finally, the first draft was written, and ruefully Maedhros thought it would need redoing, possibly by fingers more skilled than his at the moment. He dipped the quill in ink and pressed upon the paper.
Sincerely,
Your kin, Nelyafinwë Fëanárion, High King of the Ñold
His shivering hand paused on the stem of the letter, and the quill bled like a wound onto the paper; the tip broke with a crisp sound that morphed into the clink of chains as hoarse sniggering rose in vile uproar.
… the High King of the Ñoldor…
The script blackened before his eyes and sank into a widening pool of ink that reminded of smooth obsidian tiles. Crooked pillars loomed above his head and shadows leered from putrid corners. Words muddled and churned, and his throat bobbed as the ground beneath him turned to unforgiving adamant, and the wailing of iron rang as it was cast about his feet.
The baleful scrape of a metallic voice scoured like barbed wiring through his mind, worming its way into his sickened heart. He shuddered in the long robes of ragged scarlet that adorned his shoulders, shivering naked underneath as long, sinuous fingers grasped his shorn hair and forced his gaze downward.
A ghastly purr sounded from behind him, laced with scorn and cutting, acidic hatred. “It is my honor to present to you, the son of the renowned — and happily dead, as most of you know — artisan Fëanáro, possibly the most prideful smear of dirt that graced the soles of our boots to date.”
A kick to the back of his knees tore a gasp from his lips as he fell, brittle bones crunching under his weight on the hard floors. The abhorrent, vicious touch dug into his shoulder as he beheld the gathering of slithering tongues and slack-jawed maws; fell eyes of various shapes and sizes watched him with a foul and all too hungry interest.
“Our guest of the evening is Nelyafinwë, Finwë the Third. The well-shaped one, as it were, who once upon a time, before our timely interference, was on his way to becoming the High King of the Ñoldor over our own Middle-earth...”
The voice poured like honey over mandrake, and the smile upon Morgoth’s chief servant was all fangs and malice as beasts jeered and howled, and so loathsome were their stares upon his bent form, so humiliating the reeking robes wrapped around his filthy, broken skin; fright unending fluttered in his innards as he knelt before the eldritch expanse of Angband’s vast halls, paraded like some perverse curiosity, to be gawked and trampled upon by its abominations.
Maedhros choked on an angry, wretched sob, and his knuckles whitened, his hand fisting around the quill, crushing the frail feathering and shaft. The shadows grew and roiled around him, constricting in their rising power; he drowned in them.
“Smile, princeling, tonight is a time of merriment, and great honors to bestow.”
His locks had grown long again and clustered about his mangled jaw like base reminders, and with an eye-watering wrench Morgoth’s dread captain yanked his head up, leaning too close, always too close, whispering honey-coated terror in his ear, and all he could do was whimper in abject misery as a forked tongue ran its viscous trail along his pointed helix.
“Do it.”
The order was curt and clipped, laced with a methodical cruelty he knew all too well, and he had to obey, lest the truth unfolded behind the threat like so many times before, knowing what they had done, what they could do again...
His lower lip quivered.
“... there we are. Good little elfling,” Sauron crooned, clawed hand threading through his hair in slow, demeaning motions. “Good boy, Maitimo…”
“Nelyo?”
Maedhros jolted at the voice, and as he blinked down, reality swerved back into place with the oily spill of black ink pooling across his scribbled letter. He must have tipped the bottle over. Nausea groaned in his gut. He was going to be sick. His panting breaths came shallow, and sweat beaded his forehead as he struggled to steady himself, swallowing the horror that iced his heart.
Barely did he lift his gaze, meeting the worried eyes of Celegorm. His brother’s sharp glance fell on the ruined writing supplies.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes... yes.” Maedhros looked away, dragging his hand over his face. “A minor setback, as you can see. What is it?”
Celegorm raised an eyebrow, but to his relief, prodded no further. “Come,” he said. “They are here.”
Part II
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like obviously “x did nothing wrong” is a satirical phrase but have u considered. your honor that is my emotional support war criminal please adn thankyou. no charges on account of i love him.
#i like to think i am his rich aunt from new jersey come to get him out of trouble at school#this post is about maedhros feanorion#nelyo originals
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Nelyo
my favourite boi, love of my life, my little baby—
buckle up bc this is quite the ride
pretend i can draw scars
✨first age, post-imprisonment:✨
Either extremely short or shaved hair.
Nearly blind in left eye.
Missing both tips of his ears.
Favours left side when standing for his chronic pains.
Closeted and deep into denial, goes by she/her till the day he dies.
Originally named Russariel/Narwafinda.
if you guessed he’s gil-galad’s parent—
you’re right
long story aside
extremely traumatic ordeal, he and Finno still don’t end up together, Ereinion despises him
Two full heads taller than the average man and sinda, one head taller than the average noldo. no i don’t wanna do the work of putting an actual number to it.
Self harm scars on his fingers. (When he thinks he’s having delusions, he uses the pain to ground himself. As a consequence, doesn’t have much feeling in them.)
Freckles that I couldn’t draw bc the brush was being a bitch.
Sickly white skin.
Patches when hair don’t grow in his scalp.
Very raspy and hoarse voice.
✨first age, Elrond & Elros:✨
Is the only one who knows how to do braids, the twins’ hair never looks decent bc of this (try to do it with a single mangled hand). Káno often just puts their hair in ponytails that never really look good, but the twins refuse to do their hair themselves.
To his death, Elros wore his hair gathered in a ponytail.
All grown up, Elrond wore his braided like Nelyo did it.
Whenever he slept totally still and nearly not breathing, the boys knew he was having nightmares and snuck into his bed.
The twins actually became really loud when in their care, because they noticed Káno and Nelyo becoming anxious in absolute silence.
there were no more little brothers causing mayhem. silence became painful.
Elrond and Elros come out of their care speaking only quenya, with a marked Fëanorian accent, and refuse to speak anything else for years.
the day they left the boys waited deep into the night by the entrance to their refuge.
even after months of hunting food by their own they refused to give up.
eventually Elrond obeyed Nelyo’s orders to go to Gil-Galad.
they were gone.
forever.
Ereinion Gil-Galad still hated Nelyo, he always would. He only took them in because they came from his father’s side of the family, because he thought they were more victims to the House of Fëanor.
Maybe they were, but they still loved their fathers.
Elros Tar-Minyatur never once spoke a single word to him.
Elrond Peredhel only ever did it out of necessity and required politeness towards the king.
✨third age, newly reembodied:✨
Second time’s the charm; right hröa!
Exact same height as before, just a little bulkier.
Fixed relationship with his parents.
Fëanor and Nerdanel were ecstatic to name their firstborn son.
Essentially bullied into accepting that Finno loves him and that he deserves that love.
THEY. FINALLY. MARRY.
bc seriously guys wtf why did it take you three fucking eras
Decent relationship with the extended family.
i mean everyone sort of avoids them so they gotta support each other
ofc this is Nerdanel and her sisters in law’s doing
Became closer with Findo because they have common ground in worrying for Káno.
might or might have not been kicked in the balls beforehand tho
“Shut up Finno, your husband will be fine! I waited millennia for that and it was amazing!”
A few years are spent home, but there’s things to fix and a little brother to find.
There’s already a boat awaiting to sail for Middle Earth one last time.
#silmarillion#silmarillion fanart#feanorians#house of finwe#house of feanor#nelyo#nelyafinwe#maitimo#maedhros#russingon#elrond & elros#angst#this isn’t well seasoned without angst
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Secret
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KBu5EXv
by That_ffb7c5_person
"So, Káno, I was thinking we could…" Cough.
"Nelyo, did you just cough?" Maglor asks.
"I just swallowed wrong, um, anyway," Maglor just shoots him a disapproving look and carries on with the conversation.
Words: 1820, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Amlach (Tolkien), Maglor | Makalaurë, Original Elf Character(s)
Relationships: Amlach/Maedhros | Maitimo
Additional Tags: Hanahaki Disease, Love Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, The Author Regrets Nothing
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KBu5EXv
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Maedhros at the Palace at Alqualondë, Part Two
Previous Part
Next
AU masterlist + explanation
Other masterlists
CW: abuse of power, gaslighting
Fun fact! This AU was originally going to be about Thingol! It’s different enough that I might still write it actually, I’ll make a longer post about it soon
I used formal but modern grammar here for the most part (exceptions are intentional) to indicate the difference between elven and Valarin dialects when translated into English. I’ll go into more about this later, it’s kind of hard to explain but I hope this is ok and that the language is in character enough.
Random clarification: The exact age difference between different members of the house of Finwë actually differs throughout Tolkien’s notes and there aren’t really a lot of clear answers. I do personally headcanon that Maedhros is younger than all of Finwë’s children although he is not much younger than Írimë and Arafinwë who were still children when he was born.
I’m slowly writing something in chronological order but I’m taking requests for short pieces from anywhere in the timeline
One night’s lost sleep should not cause noticeable distress among the highborn elves but Nelyafinwë (the name still brought a twinge of distaste to his lips, even now) looked to be in poor condition at the early hour Arafinwë entered the room he had left him in. Eyes were widened, hair askew as he twisted around to look at his visitor.
“I hope you did not spent the night struggling against these, Russandol,” Arafinwë says calmly, moving forward to examine the restraints, debating whether or not to remove the leather from his nephew’s mouth. The younger elf tensed visibly as his fingers moved towards the straps on his face.
“I mean this for your own sake, of course. No harm will come to you here. There was no need to remain in such a state of agitation.” Despite his calm and even tone there is no denying that his words are almost mockingly empty; Nelyafinwë is naked, strapped down, completely vulnerable and Arafinwë knows perfectly well how much the younger elf detests this so vividly and why.
“I will remove these now, provided you remain calm.” Nelyafinwë doesn’t look anything resembling calm but Arafinwë moves to undo the straps around his head, carefully pulling the leather piece from his mouth.
He pants softly for several minutes as the other straps were removed. When his limbs were freed, he sat up, knees pulled to his chest in an attempt to cover himself. The look he gave Arafinwë was a deeply uncertain one. There was no avert animosity to it but the elf king was nevertheless cautious as he moved around the bed as though he might be sprang upon at any moment. Nelyafinwë’s eyes did not leave him as he walked to the cabinets and removed a sheet. His pace was slow, deliberate as he stepped back into plain view and offered it out to his guest.
“I will retrieve your clothes from the guards later today, Russandol. In the meantime you may use this.”
A small gesture of acknowledgment as he pulled the sheet around himself. Arafinwë wondered if Nelyafinwë was aware of how poorly he hid his apprehension. He wondered too if his half nephew would trust in it or simply dismiss it as paranoia caused by the traumas of the past.
“Thank you, Lord Arafinwë,” Nelyo says curtly once he has settled his arms in front of him again.
The king nods in response before walking over to the small table by the door and returning with a glass of a breakfast juice, something like a thin smile playing on his lips as Russandol eyes it.
…
It should have taken a bit longer for the effects to take hold, perhaps he had been too heavy handed with the mixture.
Arafinwë takes the glass before the younger elf’s grip becomes too unsteady. Nelyafinwë’s eyes appear rather blurry and unfocused but he’s still lucid enough to be angry.
“You had no right to..” he stumbles on a word and Arafinwë coolly cuts him off.
“No right to ensure the safety of my subjects when I am housing a kinslayer, however temporarily?” The look Nelyafinwë gives him might be described as dour but he does not, or perhaps cannot retort.
“Besides,” Arafinwë continues smoothly, “I was under the impression that being held in restraints brought back unpleasant memories. Is this not a reasonable alternative?” He searches his half nephew’s face; a blink that might have been a prelude to an argument had he been more able to articulate,
“I have read the reports of the healers who initially treated thee following thy rescue from the Iron Prisons. I know of thy tendency to lash out should you receive enough provocation.” He was given another blink, the expression clearly impudent but there was nothing Nelyafinwë could do to argue so Arafinwë went on, his face closer to the other’s now, his voice softer, “You are not the only one to return from the clutches of the Dark Foe with the disposition of a wounded animal but I would not be remiss in saying that you are one of the most dangerous cases. Both because of thy previous actions and because of the rather…unique connection that you shared with Him.”
This brought a reaction. Nelyafinwë actually made an almost convulsive gesture with both arms as though attempting to throw himself up and off the bed.
“None of that, now,” Arafinwë chides softly, pushing him back with minimal force, “But really, Russandol. This was precisely what I spoke of.” Arafinwë eases him down again on the bed, allowing him to keep his sheet to cover himself. Nudity was not typically a source of shame among the Eldar but the Fëanorian became so agitated with his clothes taken. And he could not afford for Nelyafinwë to become so agitated. Yet.
Nelyafinwë can’t see it, he can barely keep his eyes open but there is the slightest hint of satisfaction on the king’s face as he stood and turned to leave.
Author’s note: I should add here that Arafinwë actually knows a decent amount about Maedhros’s trauma in Angband. He’s seen the healer’s reports including Nolofinwë’s wife’s private journals. I headcanon that Anairë is a healer and after the events of Silm she becomes very good at treating survivors of torture and long term injuries from their experiences on Arda. Arafinwë asks her to borrow her notes on a different case and she agrees, trusting him to not look through the private parts of her journal. But he does read them. They contain not only her own observations but very personal details of Maedhros’s torture that he had confided in Nolofinwë. Ara also has information from what his own son has confided in him.
Tag list: @elarinya-nailo @iwenttomordor @mozart-the-meerkitten @tears-and-lilies @oswaldinator3000 @much-ado-about-whumping
#the silmarillion#maedhros#Finarfin#Arafinwë#splinters like jewel shards#short writings#I’m going to be in the car for awhile for travel which is really stressful
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i read the latest 'towers we built' snippet and i am losing my mind about the perspectives of the people in Amen! I was enchanted by it before but I was thinking of Eärendil and Celebrian's viewpoints - now I'm imagining the Amenyar elves and it is Expanding my brain!
Aaaah thank you so much!!
Most of the fic will actually be from the Amanyar's POV! For now everything I've written of the actual fic is from Maedhros's POV, and there will be a bunch of prequel ficlets catching up with various elves (I've written Idril, Celegorm and Thingol so far).
They will have a lot to puzzle about! Celebrían's arrival really triggers cascade reactions. She has some memory issues both due to her trauma and to Irmo's work trying to make sure that she won't "disturb the peace" with the wrong information, but he couldn't erase everything the way he did with the others.
Such as, for example, the fact that there's a statue of her mother in the memorial for the Noldor who died in the Darkening...
Maedhros, Fingon and Finrod are the main characters of the main fic. Once they get an inkling that there's something wrong, they won't let it go, and it will take them all the way to Middle-Earth and back. With some unpleasant realizations along the way.
Here's another snippet of Nelyo's POV from chapter 1 for you:
“If it was you, I would move all of Arda and beyond to find you,” Finno says quietly, proving that their thoughts are along the same morbid line. “And I’d never let you go again.”
“Even if it was for my own good?”
“I would have sailed with you. I would have gone with you anywhere.”
Celebrían’s husband didn’t come with her. He has unfinished business, Eärendil said. What is keeping him there, in a land strife with war, that prevents him from following his wife to safety? What is worth taking the risk that she’ll fade, alone, far away from him?
“Maybe they have children,” Nelyo says. “How terrible it must be, to be thus sundered.”
snippet 1, 2, 3 from yesterday | original post
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a guide to fëanorian names
it can be really hard to navigate the silm fandom and read certain fanfics when u don’t know who’s who (i know, i’ve been there. and probably some of those fanfics are ones i’ve written). so without further ado:
1. fëanor
names he has: fëanor, fëanáro, curufinwë
what do they mean?
fëanor: fëanáro but make it sindarin
fëanáro: spirit of fire!
curufinwë: skilled finwë
notes: fëanáro is his mother name, so given by míriel therindë. curufinwë is his father name, so given by finwë. less commonly in some fics, he might be nicknamed náro.
2. nerdanel
names she has: nerdanel, istarnië
what do they mean?
nerdanel: idk jirt never said
istarnië: the wise
notes: technically istarnië is the rejected original version of her name, although i’ve seen some refer to her by it. nerdanel is definitely recognisable name. also: nerdanel if ur out there marry me please
3. maedhros
names he has: maedhros, maitimo, nelyafinwë, nelyo, russandol
what do they mean?
maedhros: sindarised mix of maitimo and russandol
maitimo: well-formed (read: hot)
nelyafinwë: third finwë (read: fuck you fingolfin)
nelyo: shortened version of nelyafinwë
russandol: russet-top, redhead
notes: maitimo is his mother name and nelyafinwë his father name. you’ll often find nelyo in fics where the sons of fëanor are casually conversing with each other or in valinor-set fics. russandol is usually used in fic by fingon and that name makes up half the term russingon, if you were wondering where the hell the silm fandom got that particular ship name. maedhros also has the most names among the songs of fëanor. or anyone tbh.
4. maglor
names he has: maglor, makalaurë, kanafinwë, káno
what do they mean?
maglor: name interpreted as a sindar version of makalaurë
makalaurë: gold-cleaver
kanafinwë: strong-voiced finwë
káno: shortened version of kanafinwë, but also means commander!
notes: makalaurë is his mother name, kanafinwë his father name. like nelyo, you’ll often find káno where the sons of fëanor are speaking casually or in valinor-set fics. the sons of fingolfin also have ‘káno’ as parts of their quenya names, though, so watch out for that! (its not very common to see anyone call all of them by the same name tho)
5. celegorm
names he has: celegorm, tyelkormo, turkafinwë, tyelko/turko
what do they mean?
celegorm: sindar variant of tyelkormo
tyelkormo: hasty-riser
turkafinwë: strong finwë
tyelko/turko: shortened versions of tyelkormo and turkafinwë
notes: tyelkormo is the mother name and turkafinwë the father name. tyelko and turko are in the same boat as nelyo and kano. technically turko is the proper nickname but a lot of people prefer tyelko (myself included) because it sounds less like ‘turkey’ or otherwise.
6. caranthir
names he has: caranthir, carnistir, morifinwë, moryo
what do they mean?
caranthir: sindarised version of carnistir
carnistir: red-faced
morifinwë: dark finwë
moryo: shortened version of morifinwë
notes: carnistir is the mother name, morifinwë the father name. moryo is the nickname (see: nelyo)
7. curufin
names he has: curufin, atarinkë, curufinwë, curvo
what do they mean?
curufin: curufinwë but make it short & sindarised
atarinkë: little father
curufinwë: skilled finwë
curvo: short form of curufinwë
notes: in short? dad junior. i’m sure at this point you can tell which parent gave him which name. for inquiries about curvo, see moryo.
8. celebrimbor
names he has: celebrimbor, tyelperinquar
what do they mean?
celebrimbor: sindarised version of tyelperinquar
tyelperinquar: silverfist
tyelpë: shortened version of tyelperinquar
notes: we’re not actually sure if tyelperinquar is his mother name or his father name. i like to think that it’s his mother name and that his father name is curufinwë, just to keep the name in the family u know? but to each their own. tolkien gateway says it’s his father-name but i don’t buy it. (and if someone wants to tell me it’s true, well, i don’t care.)
9. amrod
names he has: amrod, ambarussa, umbarto, ambarto, pityafinwë, pityo
what do they mean?
amrod: sindarisation of ambarto
ambarussa: top-russet (because he has red hair)
umbarto: the fated
ambarto: upwards-exalted
pityafinwë: small finwë
pityo: shortened version if pityafinwë
notes: in the legendarium, nerdanel gives both twins the name ambarussa. fëanor is like ‘babe they should have different names’ so she names amrod umbarto. fëanor is Freaked Out by the meaning of umbarto and changes it to ambarto. i dont believe in this part of the silm and therefore these names because this is the version where amrod dies at losgar, but some people use it. for pityo, see: curvo. ambarussa and pityafinwë are, you guessed it, mother and father names.
10. amras
names he has: amras, ambarussa, telufinwë, telvo
what do they mean?
amras: sindarin version of ambarussa
ambarussa: russet-top
telufinwë: last finwë
telvo: shortened form of telufinwë
notes: for telvo, see pityo. ambarussa and telufinwë are mother names and father names, respectively.
thank you for coming to my tedtalk. i hope this was useful!
#maedhros#maglor#celegorm#caranthir#curufin#amrod#amras#celebrimbor#fëanor#feanor#nerdanel#ambarussa#sons of fëanor#house of fëanor#sons of feanor#house of feanor#silmarillion#silm#tolkien
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