#Hithlum

[nevui-penim-miruvorrr]

Fingolfin /Arakano /Ñolofinwë

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[outofangband]

Thistles of Beleriand

Continuing my flower world building from last year where I do flower related world building! More in the spring flower game tag! This was a request from last year!

Thistles are a common name for several species with leaves that have sharp spikes on their edges. Most of them are in the Asteraceae family. They are ecologically significant with their seeds being eaten by many species of birds, playing part in the lifecycle of several butterfly species, and containing notably high amounts of nectar.

Dozens of species of thistle live in Beleriand. A high number of them are globe thistles, one of the largest genuses, but many others are represented as well. The area of highest diversity is in the south of Beleriand.

The feathery part of the thistle flower is called down and it is often collected by birds to line nests. The fibers can be spun into a yarn like material. In Mithrim and Nevrast, these plants are cultivated specifically for fiber, often dyed with other parts of the plant. These fibers are generally used in smaller amounts such as lining in blankets. Children's dolls are often made with thistle fiber, a time consuming and precise task.

Purple milk thistles and star thistles (a genus of about seventy species) are found in southern Beleriand around the Andram. They're eaten by Avarin elves and are a part of medicine, often through teas.

In Nevrast as well as in the gardens of Valinor, larger species of thistles such as the creeping thistle are beloved for their ability to attract hummingbirds and fritillary butterflies.

The leaves and roots of golden thistles are eaten in the Havens of the Falathrim, often with fish and eggs of chickens or quails. The flowers themselves appear in Falathrim art, often representing the sun, change and beginnings.

Like many native flowers, thistles in Hithlum often appear in Hadorian embroidery and architectural motifs. Cotton thistles, thorny burr, and milk thistle being the most common. Thorny burr is also cultivated for their edible roots.

Musk thistles are found in north eastern Beleriand, namely in Ard Galen and the moors of Dorthonion.

[the-spirit-of-yore]

Fingolfin's wrath par Ted Nasmith

[nolofinweo]

Fingolfin's preferences

There are many things in Arda that Fingolfin likes and enjoys doing. Here is a small list of what he likes:

♦ He liked to play the violin. His music is not bad, but often it has a slightly melancholic and sad sound. In Arda, this sad sound continued to grow. It reflected his true feelings in his heart. (If there were pianos, he would prefer this to the violin) ♦ He loves winter and is much more active outdoors during this time of year than in the other seasons. He often goes about his business in silence, simply enjoying the cold, the snow and the peace. Sometimes his horse Rochallor accompanies him. ♦ He liked to read books, especially about other countries, other peoples and cultures. Sometimes he also read books about plants, just to know what effects they could have on a body. ♦ He often retreated when the hustle and bustle of the castle was too much for him, then he went to his study and lay down on the chaise longue and simply drank Dorwinion while he remembered the happier days in Valinor. Sometimes he would light incense candles to give the room a smoky, pleasant scent. ♦ He liked to eat stews, especially in autumn and winter, as this often gave him a homely feeling.

[hhimring]

Berion's Song

@tolkienocweek A late post for Day 2 (OC and their relationship to a canon character) or an early post for Day 6 (background or minor OC)

Berion, captain of Barad Eithel under King Fingon, laments Fingon's death and the loss of his home.

My king dwelt in a northern land.

A tower among mountains green

was his, and on the eastern hand

long leagues of grassy plain were seen,

westwards a shore of silver sand,

the mist-wreathed forest-boughs between.

As through the northern summer night

the sunlight softly slipped away,

the orc and the uncanny wight

stole forth beneath the branches grey;

but when the king came and the light,

they fled away at break of day!

How oft I watched beneath the moon

my king gaze out over wood and lawn

or ride singing a merry tune,

until, his brand for battle drawn,

he fell, come a midsummer dawn. 

Who sees now if the mountains green

still cradle castle-ruins grey?

Who sees now if the boughs between

the lake-shore gleams each desolate day?

Above the slain, the grass is green.

They trod his banner in the clay!

This is an adaptation of the poem Romance by Andrew Lang, better known as the lyrics of Elgar's part song My love dwelt in a northern land.

More on my OC Berion:

Berion was born in Hithlum and first entered Fingon's service as a squire. He was devoted to Fingon and his father Fingolfin.

In my early stories, he features as a lovable but mildly comic background character, because he is well-meaning, enthusiastic and energetic, but doesn't always understand the complexities of the personal relationships between Fingon and his family very well.

As times darken in Beleriand, Berion becomes a tragic character. Although he does survive the Battle of Unnumbered Tears when Fingon and most of his army are killed in battle, he loses so many people and things he cares for! At this point, Berion also became the protagonist of one of my stories, set in Gondolin and surroundings: Above the Clouds

In Idril's service, Berion survives the Fall of Gondolin and eventually goes on to serve Gil-galad in Lindon.

[theworldsoftolkein]

Return to Hithlum by TheLongDefeat

Now Rochallor had stayed beside the king until the end, but the wolves of Angband assailed him, and he escaped from them because of his great swiftness, and ran at last to Hithlum, and broke his heart and died." -The War of the Jewels J. R. R. Tolkien

[west-beleriand]

sate my curiosity i need to see the state of things on tolkienblr

(doriath, personally)

[eilinelsghost]

Hi! I love your "Comparative Sizes of Beleriand and the Lands to the East post!" From your map and your calculations, would it also be possible to calculate the distance between certain places in Beleriand? Eg between Himring and Hithlum or Hithlum and Nargothrond or Angband and Himring and so on. When reading fic, I'm always wondering how far these places are actually apart and how long travel between these places would take on foot or on horse.

Thank you so much! I'm so glad other people have found it interesting too. It was such fun to work on!

So the short answer is yes. Now that I have the ratio between the two, I can just pull the same mileage legend over to Beleriand and use it to measure distances there.

The longer answer is that every single one of these comes with a massive caveat that they're are all very very very approximate. The distances we're given for places within Beleriand is, well, malleable at best 😂 and Tolkien never seemed to quite make up his mind on the exact details of this. So this map is taking just what is listed in the published Silmarillion as a baseline and going from there. And even within the published Silmarillion itself, the distances are not always consistent.

So I will put those distances below, but just know that these are extremely approximate and can always be fudged, smooshed, or extended as need requires.

Also please note that all of these are measured "as the crow flies" rather than the actual miles it would take for a rider or someone on foot to travel them. You'd need to look at the terrain and add time/distance based on how winding it is or whether it's including moving up and down altitude etc.

With all those caveats out of the way, here's the ones you listed!

Himring to Hithlum

Approximately 450 miles

Hithlum to Nargothrond

Approximately 300 miles

Angband to Himring

Well this one is a bit more difficult since Angband is not shown on the map we're given. But from Himring to the edge of what we can see of Anfauglith, it is approximately 160-170 miles. From there, just add however much further you think Angband would be from the cutoff of this map.

Again, these really are all guesses for fun, and both maps can be (and have been in canon) fairly malleable as needed. So definitely don't hold this as a hard and fast answer to what the exact distances are.

Thanks so much for the ask, this was fun to do!

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Hii, so for the ask game can I ask this two for Russingon?

Having their hair washed by the other

One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap.

it would be absolutly amazing!

Thanks for the ask! Hope you like it!

Fingon watched apprehensively as the gates were lifted and the clatter of hooves on cobbles filled the courtyard; banners of lush red warring for precedence over the blue lining the walls, none as deep or as indicative of the infamous flame as draped the shoulders of the nér at the helm of the escort. Fingolfin gestured for him to wait as he strode down the steps, every inch the king, to meet his nephew; his nephew who despite the shallow bow carried himself much the same way, radiating such authority that it was hard to tell who was greeting who. How much of this was intentional Fingon couldn’t say, Maedhros commanded deference in many a situation in which he was attempting to exhibit it towards another.

‘You must have had a hard journey, we were not expecting you for several days more after you expressed your intent to visit.’ Which Maedhros well knew of course, he had a deep hatred of being at all predictable in his movements.

‘You are welcome to our guest chambers, luckily we have no other important delegations passing through at present so we have space for you and your escort in the castle itself.’

‘You have my gratitude your majesty, we ran into some trouble near Doriath and many of my men are in dire need of respite.’

Fingolfin raised an eyebrow at the phrasing, ‘As you yourself are, no doubt. I would confer with you over dinner but for now, please, take a few hours. The healers are where they always are, they are at your disposal should you need anything tended to.’

Fingon waited until all the commotion had died down and Maedhros had finally satisfied himself that his men were well provided for and retired to his chambers to follow him there and softly close the door behind them. ‘I had him prepare these rooms for you as soon as we received your letter you know. It is well nigh impossible to get you to express any sort of personal preferences but I think over the past century I have managed to at least ascertain that your shoulder seems to ail you less on this bed than others. By the state of you you’ll need it.’

Maedhros sighed, sheer exhaustion melting through as he saw Fingon’s teasing, interpreting it not wholly incorrectly as a prelude to flirtation. ‘It’s been a hard month,�� he finally gave in and hung his cloak over the chair to drip the icy water unto the wooden panels rather than his slightly less soaked through clothing, ‘Not tonight, Finno.’

He looked so heart wrenchingly vulnerable as he whispered those last words that Fingon could have sobbed as he choked out, ‘Alright. That’s perfectly fine, you know that Nelyo don’t you?’ There was a long pause in which Fingon slowly moved towards him and laid a hand on the desk Maedhros had sunk down at and waited for the familiar rough squeeze of his cousin’s fingers before breathing again.

‘You grew your hair out again I noticed. Is that troubling you?’ He inquired gently as he observed that Maedhros seemed to wince every time the damp bloodstained strands dragged across his cheeks or his now thinly covered arms, ‘I can cut it if you want,’ not that he particularly wanted to but it wasn’t his decision was it?

Maedhros took a minute to reply, the only sound in the room the drips of the muddy water, echoing as loud as drums in the silent room, far from the hubbub in the lower floors of the castle another reason this room had been selected for his use. ‘I don’t wish to cut it. I want it long like it was before, not how it was afterwards, it’s just…… hard sometimes.’ He heard what Maedhros was not saying, he wanted to steal back this seemingly insignificant piece of the person he used to be that had been stripped from him, he could not claim his nights back from the horrors but he could once again ride to battle, the flame streaming behind him a reminder and warning that Prince Nelyafinwe Maitimo Russandol had not been crushed.

‘Would you allow me tend to it?’ It was a long shot he knew, unlikely to be accepted but maybe, just maybe, if Maedhros was a very certain combination of weary and longing for affection from a trusted and familiar place, he might find it soothing.

A few moments found him smoothing soap and warm water through the length of Maedhros hair and he hummed pleasantly to himself as he relished the way the other nér relaxed into the sensation of nails gently scrubbing the grime of the past few days from his scalp. ‘No wonder it’s been frustrating you, it’s just as thick now as it ever was and Eru knows you had more time to tame it then,’ he said with a little chuckle.

He used to take so much pride in it, perhaps quite a bit of vanity but at that point he hadn’t yet began to contemplate thinking critically of his older cousin, he’d braided it about his head and down his back with gems and circlets and had had what Fingon gathered was a rather time consuming regime involving various different ointments. Once the hair was clean he set to carefully teasing the knots out; by this point Maedhros hardly had the energy to protest at the amount of Fingon’s time being taken up by such seemingly menial tasks and simply sagged unto his lap with a scarcely concealed sigh of contentment.

Fingon smiled fondly down as he continued to run his fingers and the comb through the hair and speaking enthusiastically about various things until he felt the tension in Maedhros’ shoulders seep away in a little muffled yawn with only a brief flush of awkwardness for it.

He could see the locks had grown back almost exactly as they’d been before once oils had restored it from impacts of ice and wind, it curled thick and soft across his thighs and spilled onto the pillows in precisely that same shade that had always fascinated him since as long as he could remember, so unique to anything he’d ever seen elsewhere.

He wondered sometimes if the beauty that had remained or returned to its former glory might pain Maedhros more than any that he saw as lost, that the outside called to mind on occasion the golden child of Tirion’s nobility that had long been destroyed and reforged into something harsher, stronger and brimming with fury. That when he looked into mirror he could sometimes see in it the ghost of someone he now hardly knew at all.

He’d lost himself in the wonderfully familiar rhythm by the time he noticed that Maedhros’ breathing had evened out and his eyes had slipped shut. Elbereth, he must have been exhausted, Maedhros never just fell asleep like that, let alone in front of some or when he has a meeting in, the bell tower tolled for the evening meal, ten minutes. Well he’s not going and that’s that, he might pass out or something with how much he’s no doubt been running himself into the ground of late, most likely the nightmares have something to do with that though he didn’t mention them. Atar will just have to deal with it.

His lips split into a wide smile as he watched Maedhros slip into a rare peaceful rest and knew that there was nothing that could compare to this moment right here, nothing else that would fill his chest with such uncontainable joy as this. He’d take it as long as he was able to because such things were rare and unlikely to be this perfect again. The purpose of his visit could wait until tomorrow he thought as he relaxed against the headrest and pressed a kiss to the warm skin of Maedhros’ brow.

[fran-3]

[grey-gazania]

I would die for the Northern Sindar.

[outofangband]

“Hador Goldenhead was a lord of the Edain and well beloved by the Eldar; he dwelt while his days lasted under the lordship of king Fingolfin who gave to him wide lands in that region of Hithlum which was called Dor-lòmin”

x x x x x x x x x (It's been awhile since I've done a Hithlum board! This is Dor-lòmin under the House of Hador; photos largely from Ireland and Iran)

[thebitchkingofangmar]

mirwood but make it la selva valdiviana. hithlum but make it the andean altiplano

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

The refugees in Sirion hearing the grind of metal and angry shouts and thinking it’s happening again.