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aylen-san · 1 year ago

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The Last Battle Under the Stars

It began so suddenly that it seemed the forest itself had risen up against its inhabitants. The silence that had enveloped the area only moments before was suddenly shattered by terrible sounds - hoarse screams, fierce growls, and the sound of breaking branches. The air was filled with the pungent stench of rotting leaves. Alarmed, Maglor rushed in the direction of the noise. His heart pounded with adrenaline and his mind raced, trying to tell him what might have happened. He picked his way through the dense foliage, clinging to branches and roots that seemed to hold him back, preventing him from reaching the scene of the tragedy. Every step was difficult, the ground beneath his feet slippery from the rain, and the fog thickening, hiding even the nearest trees from his view. In the distance, through the thick gray veil, bright flames began to appear. The horrible sounds continued, growing louder and louder, as if the forest itself was screaming in pain.

When he finally jumped out into the clearing, a terrifying sight appeared before his eyes. It was as if the forest itself trembled with the presence of evil, the shadows growing thicker around the unfolding battle. Finwë, young and determined, stood in the center of the clearing. Around him, like wolves circling prey, a ring of fierce creatures closed in. Their bloodshot eyes blazed with malice and hatred, and their bodies, distorted by dark magic, resembled something between monstrous beasts and nightmarish creatures of the dark. Their hideous forms writhing, their ravenous claws scraping the ground, their jaws open in anticipation of blood.

Finwë fought bravely as the future true leader of his people. The Maglor, however, froze for a moment, realizing at once that the odds were not in their favor. These creatures were no ordinary foes - they moved with diabolical agility, their skin seemingly invulnerable. Each swing of Finwë's arm was full of fury and power, but the enemies did not retreat, only intensified their attack, their fury growing like an unstoppable storm. The smell of blood and iron filled the air, and Maglor's lips were frozen with the words of a chant he had not had time to utter as he watched the unequal battle unfold before his eyes.

After a moment, Maglor came to his senses and rushed to his aid in anger and despair, his cry, full of the excitement of battle and ancient strength, echoing through the forest and mingling with the cries of Finwë, who continued to fight despite his fear and terror, his face a mixture of determination and rage. The forest seemed to respond to the call - the trees swayed, the wind picked up, as if nature itself were answering the call of the elven warrior. They stood side by side, like great warriors on a battlefield, their swords glittering in the flickering light of moon and flame, each blow imbued with strength and desperation.

But the reality was different. Young Finwë, though he stood firm and his blows were swift and honed, could not match the experience and skill of his grandson. Maglor, who had been through centuries of pain and battle, knew his enemies' every weakness, anticipated their every move, his blows were deadly and precise; while Finwë fought with all his courage, he was only a young elf, not yet acquiring the wisdom and determination that would make him a great king. Maglor realized that this grandfather was not yet the majestic leader who would one day challenge Melkor himself and lead his people through darkness and pain.

Before him stood a young elf, full of ambition but unprepared for such horrors. Finwë's eyes reflected confusion despite his courage, he fought with all his might, but his movements were a little stiff, every blow seemed to lack confidence. Maglor felt his heart clench with pain as he saw himself in Finwë's eyes, the man he had once been, before all the pain and loss. He knew he had to protect him at all costs, to keep this light creature from perishing in the clutches of the vile monsters whose malice and hatred of elves knew no bounds.

The sounds of steel, screams of pain and rage mingled in a deafening hum, the melody of a mad dance of death. Each stroke of Maglor's sword was accompanied by a flash of light that seemed to lift the darkness itself for a moment. His blade sliced through the air with terrifying force, spilling dark blood onto the drenched ground. He fought with a desperate fury, as if fire itself burned in his veins, not letting him stop for a second.

But suddenly, as he fought off another enemy, Maglor felt an icy terror seize his heart. His attention, absorbed in the battle, was momentarily diverted from Finwë, who was fighting the creatures a little farther away. At that moment, one of the dark creatures, huge and shabby, remotely resembling a withered wolf, but with monstrous fangs and fury in its eyes, lunged at the young elf. Maglor barely had time to register the movement before the creature struck with inhuman strength and speed.

In an instant, the wolf lunged forward, its mouth open to reveal fearsome fangs. Time seemed to slow, and Maglor, realizing with horror that he could not prevent the attack, saw the beast's fangs sink into Finwë's body, tearing at the flesh. A scream of pain ripped from his throat, echoing in the heart of Maglor, who, forgetting everything else, rushed to his grandfather. But it was too late: Finwë's body lay crumpled on the ground, blood staining the ground, soaking into the moss and leaves. The dark wolf growled with hate, ready to sink his fangs in once more, but now Maglor, wracked with pain and despair, was about to retaliate.

With a roar that shook the forest, Maglor lunged at the monster and slashed at it with lightning speed. His blade, stained with the blood of his enemies, pierced the monster's chest with such force that a terrible crunching of bones could be heard. The beast roared, shuddered, and collapsed to the ground in agony, writhing in its final convulsions, but it made no difference. The terrible victory brought no relief. Maglor could barely taste the blood on his lips, the blood of his enemy now mingling with the tears streaming down his face.

Turning, his heart sank. Finwë lay on the ground, his face, once full of life and courage, now pale, as if stripped of all color. His eyes were half-closed, and his breathing grew fainter with each breath until it was barely audible. Maglor, unable to believe his eyes, knelt beside his grandfather, his hands trembling as he carefully lifted Finwë's head, trying to peer into his clouded gaze.

Blood, dark and thick, flowed mercilessly from the deep wound in Finwë's side, flooding the grass and earth around him, mixing with the dirt and dust. Maglor felt his heart being torn apart, each drop of blood like a hammer blow to his senses. He tried to stop the bleeding by pressing his hands against the wound, but the blood continued to seep through his fingers, hot and sticky, burning his skin and tearing him from the inside out.

There was a dead silence all around, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, watching this tragic moment. The ominous shadows that had just seethed with the fury of battle now trembled, fading into the dim light of the distant stars. Maglor whispered words of comfort, his voice trembling, but there was no hope or salvation in them. He watched the light in Finwë's eyes slowly fade, like a candle flame in the wind, and nothing could bring him back.

Maglor knelt before his dying grandfather, shivering desperately as if he himself were at the end of his strength. The cold, bone-chilling wind seemed like an ominous whisper, repeating the inescapable truth that the end was near. His hands, usually so sure and strong, trembled now as he tried to hold onto Finwë, as if clutching at the last vestiges of life that were slipping through his fingers like sand in a clock.

Kanafinwe leaned closer, almost touching his lips to his grandfather's forehead in a last attempt to transfer his strength and warmth. But Maglor's heart clenched in pain as he realized that life was already slipping away, going where there was no return. His whispers were soft and desperate, words of prayer or farewell mixed with sobs as he tried, by some miracle, to hold his breath in Finwë's chest, to do the impossible.

Maglor's thoughts raced as he imagined what his adopted son Elrond, a master healer, might have been able to do. Elrond, with his deep knowledge and wisdom accumulated over the centuries, always found a way when there seemed to be no hope. His skilled hands and keen mind might have offered at least a fleeting chance of salvation. But now, in this field of death and darkness, drenched in blood and shrouded in ominous shadows, nothing could bring life back.

The surrounding world shrank, as if the universe had shrunk to this tragic moment. The screams and sounds of battle now seemed like a distant echo, irrelevant. All that remained was the thin thread of life, slowly fading in Maglor's hands. He knew that nothing could prevent the inevitable, and this knowledge made his heart break even more.

Kanafinwe leaned over his dying grandfather in despair, feeling his heart clench with unbearable pain. He had never possessed any special healing skills, and now his soul was torn by the helplessness he felt with his entire being. But even his humble knowledge was enough to know that the wound was fatal. Maglor knew that no power could stop this slow loss of life. Maglor felt his own heart being torn. The realization that he was losing another loved one, another link to a past already filled with pain and loss, was unbearable. He realized there was nothing he could do to help, and that was agonizing.

All he could do was to be there in his last moments, to be a support for Finwë, to give him at least a little warmth and encouragement as the life drained from his body. Maglor held his hand tightly, feeling the bond weaken as despair mixed with rage flared in his soul. He could only whisper words of comfort and farewell, knowing it was not enough, knowing that another tragedy, another loss would be added to his already heavy burden.

That moment was a brand on his heart, another scar on a soul already scarred by centuries of pain and suffering. Maglor felt his inner world crumble like a sandcastle under the pressure of a tidal wave, and nothing could stop this catastrophic process. He felt infinitely lonely at that moment, even though the elf who had once been the embodiment of all that was good and bright was beside him.

- No, Finwë, don't go, please, - Maglor whispered, feeling his heart break with grief, the tears stinging his eyes like fire. His voice trembled, and the words sounded like a plea, not only to Finwë, but to the whole world, to the powers that seemed to have abandoned them at that moment. He repeated the words over and over, trying to keep his grandfather on the edge of life, if only for a moment longer. - I'm sorry. I didn't have time... couldn't save you.

The wind rustled across the clearing, its cold breath making the leaves of the trees whisper soft words of farewell. The whole forest must have fallen into mourning, responding to Maglor's grief, and even the sky above them darkened, reflecting the shadow of this loss.

Finwë, breathing heavily, tried to smile, but his face reflected all the pain he felt. His eyes, full of suffering, looked at Maglor, but there was no reproach in them. Forgiveness glowed in those eyes, like a quiet flame that warms the soul, and Maglor knew that his grandfather had already forgiven him, despite all the unspoken words and missed opportunities.

Finwë struggled to raise her hand, a gesture that seemed simple, but was given to him with the greatest of effort. His fingers, trembling with weakness, touched Maglor's cheek, and the touch was as gentle as it had been when he was a child and Finwë had told him stories of the old days. Maglor closed his eyes, absorbing this last expression of love and understanding that he would never feel again.

- It will be all right, - Finwë whispered, his voice barely audible, but the words contained all his remaining strength. He tried to put everything he had into them, to comfort his grandson, to give him one last push forward despite the grief and the weight of loss. - You must go on. For all of us. It's not your fault... I'm proud of you, my grandson. Be strong....

Finwë's eyes closed and his arm fell lifelessly to the ground like a broken branch. Wracked with pain, the Maglor felt his heart ripped from his chest. That moment, that instant, seemed to last forever. The silence that came after the terrible battle deafened him with its coldness and emptiness. He realized that he had lost not only his grandfather, but also a symbol of hope, support, and strength for all the Noldor. Finwë was the one who had always led them forward, who had been willing to defy fate itself. And now he was gone.

Maglor was left alone, surrounded by the darkness and silence of the forest, which he now saw as hostile and strange. He knew that this day would forever be etched in his memory, a wound that would never heal. A wave of pain and sorrow rose within him that would never end. He would never forget that day, that moment when his world had finally crumbled.

Tears continued to flow down Maglor's face, dripping to the ground like raindrops, soaking into the earth soaked with his grandfather's blood. He clasped Finwë's hand, which had already begun to cool, and felt the world around him crumble as everything he had ever known and loved faded into nothingness. His chest tightened with a pain that had no outlet, like a black stone on his soul, stealing his breath and his strength.

Left with nothing but misery and desolation, Maglor looked around him absentmindedly, as if trying to find something to give him a sense of reality. But the sight before his eyes only added to his misery. The tortured bodies of the dark creatures he had killed in a blind rage lay on the ground in unnatural poses. Their vicious, twisted faces, frozen in agony, gazed into the void, a reminder that even the most hideous creatures feel pain before they die.

Blood, dark and thick, covered the ground, mixing with dirt and torn leaves to create an eerie image of destruction. From this mixture rose a heavy stench, a coppery tang that tickled his nostrils unpleasantly and added to the sense of hopelessness. The smoke from the torches that had flared up in the battle was still in the air, adding an acrid, bitter taste to the general atmosphere of horror.

Every branch, every root, everything around him breathed this new, strange, and cruel world in which Maglor was alone. This forest no longer seemed like a refuge to him. It was now the place where his new loneliness was born, the place where the darkness he had always tried to drive away had taken over.

What now? The thought echoed in Maglor's mind like a curse from which there was no escape. For the first time in centuries, he felt utterly lost, unable to see a way forward. Had his actions changed the course of Arda's history forever? This terrible thought penetrated him like a cold blade, leaving only pain and fear of the unknown. He wondered what the world would be like without Finwë, without his wise guidance and the hope he had instilled in the hearts of the Noldor. What would it be like without his sons and grandsons?

Maglor felt the unbearable weight of this responsibility resting on him like a mountain, ready to crumble at any moment. Why was he, Maglor, still here, in this monstrous place, when the likes of Finwë had left this world? He could find no answer to this question, and it made him feel a sense of injustice and despair.

Thoughts swirled in his head like wild birds in a confined space, unable to find a way out. They tangled and collided, forming a painful knot in his heart. No matter how hard he tried, Maglor could not cope with this whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. His mind, riddled with grief and guilt, kept coming back to the same thing: Why did he stay? Why was he still alive after all that had happened?

He tried to find meaning in his existence, in his survival, but instead of answers, he found only emptiness. Everything that had once seemed important and meaningful was now a ghost of the past, and he didn't know how to live with this burden on his soul.

The shore of the ancient lake, once full of life and tranquility, now lost its charm and became another dark corner of Middle-earth where one could not let one's guard down for a moment. The water that had once glistened in the sun, reflecting the blue sky and the green of the surrounding forests, now seemed dark and menacing, as if it had absorbed the darkness and despair of the place. Its surface was no longer smooth and calm; the occasional ripples and waves that broke the silence gave the illusion that something unknown was stirring in the depths, ready to break free.

The branches of the trees that had once reached for the sky, as if celebrating their connection to the earth and water, were now bowed to the ground under the weight of grief, as if the trees themselves were mourning their lost lives. Their leaves were dull, stripped of their former luster, and fell to the ground like tears, showering the shore in silent mourning. The rustling of the leaves was like soft sobs, and the wind that blew between the branches brought echoes of days gone by, when this shore had been a place of rest and joy.

Maglor stood, his legs trembling as if they would not obey his will, but he forced himself to move. He knew he could not stay here, lost in his grief, for new challenges lay ahead. The world would not stop and he had to move on despite the weight of his loss. He had to find a new place where his soul could find some peace, but first he had to fulfill his last duty to his grandfather, to the one who had been not only a leader, but a symbol of faith to many.

- Finwë, - he said quietly, looking into his grandfather's calm face, a last smile of forgiveness and love frozen on it. - I will not fail you. I will fight as long as I have the strength.

Maglor took a deep breath, gathering what was left of his will. With great difficulty, but with a feeling of deep respect and awe, he lifted Finwë's body. It was heavier than he had expected, as if not only physical but also mental weight had pressed it to the ground. But Maglor knew he had to do this - to give his grandfather a proper sendoff.

He began gathering branches and kindling, using whatever he could find in the area. The trees, as if understanding his intentions, did not resist and gave up their dry branches and leaves. Soon a funeral pyre appeared before him, simple but filled with meaning and reverence. Maglor carefully laid Finwë's body on the branches, trying to be as gentle as possible, as if he were afraid of waking his grandfather.

When everything was ready, he lit the fire. The flames took hold of the outermost branches first, then spread confidently over the whole fire. It burned slowly, illuminating Maglor's face, which reflected all his pain and determination. The tongues of fire danced in the wind, as if bidding farewell to someone who had been great and powerful in Maglor's past, who had been the strength and will of the Noldor people.

The fire grew brighter, and Maglor, feeling the heat of the fire burning his face, hummed softly an old song he had heard long ago from Finwë herself. The song was full of sadness, but also of hope, of memories of times past and promises for the future. His voice, trembling but still strong, pierced the dark night, cutting through the silence like the last cry of a soul.

The fire lit up the dark night, and it seemed as if the stars themselves leaned closer to the earth to pay their last respects to the departed. Maglor continued to sing, each note seeming to drain what strength he had left, but he knew he had to end this song as his grandfather had ended his life. The wind whispered softly, taking the ashes and embers with it, and as the flames began to die down, Maglor felt his soul fill with renewed determination. He could not leave this place until his song was finished, until the fire had taken all that was left of Finwë.

When the flames finally died down, Maglor knelt before the still-warm embers and felt himself saying goodbye to the past with every breath. Now that his grandfather was gone, he was the only one who could carry on the memory of him and those who had fought and died for the future. Maglor knew that this journey would not be easy, but he promised himself and Finwë that he would fight as long as he had the strength to keep their legacy alive.

Much later, when the fire of the pyre had long since died down and the wind had scattered the ashes, Kanafinwe again pondered the question of why he himself had not disappeared when Finwë's life had faded away. It seemed that with the death of the last member of the house he held so dear, Maglor should have dissolved, become a mere shadow of the past. But he was still here, in this cruel world where every moment reminded him of loss and bitterness.

He was no expert in the theory of time, but he had understood something of Feanor's reasoning when he had been fascinated by it in his youth. His father had said that time was not just a series of moments, but something more complex and layered. Pheanor had argued that death did not mean total disappearance, that there were ties that could not be broken even when one left this world. These words had seemed abstract to Maglor at the time, but now, alone on the shores of the dark lake, they took on new meaning.

Maglor remembered Feanor speaking of the deep connection between members of their kind, of the threads of fate so intertwined that one could not exist without the other. Perhaps his own connection to the world was so deep that he could not simply dissolve into eternity after his grandfather's death. It was as if something was holding him back, not letting him go, forcing him to stay and carry the memory of everyone he cared about.

He felt that Arda needed him despite all the loss, or maybe it was he himself who couldn't accept such an end for his kind. Maglor could not find the exact answer, but something inside him told him that his time had not yet come, that there was something important ahead of him that he had to fulfill. These thoughts kept Kanafinwe awake, as if they were pulling him back into the past, making him think over every event, every decision, every step.

What was keeping him in this world? Why was he still here when everyone he loved was gone? The answer was elusive, beyond his understanding of the nature of time and fate, but Maglor felt he must find it before he could finally find peace. Maybe this was the last riddle he had to solve.

Kanafinwe stared up at the dark sky of Beleriand, where rare stars twinkled as if to remind him of times long past. Memories of his early years in these harsh lands surfaced in his mind, bringing with them the image of the young but determined elf who had once looked upon this desolate land with hope. Darkness had enveloped the world then, too, but it had been different - dense and ominous, poisoned by the presence of a Dark Lord whose influence extended far beyond Angband. Now, despite the loss and pain, the air was clear, free of that ancient filth. He knew that the road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges, but he also knew that he had no right to give up. An inner voice told him that his role in the destiny of Arda was not over.

With a last gust of wind that lifted sparks into the night sky, Maglor looked away from the dying fire and took a last farewell look at the place where his grandfather now rested. He could not afford to linger here a moment longer. These lands held too much pain, too much loss, and despite his exhaustion and inner turmoil, Maglor forced himself to move on.

He left the shore where the pyre had burned for some time without looking back. Every step was difficult, but he walked, feeling with each step that he was moving away from the past and closer to his unknown future. Maglor did not know where this path would lead him, but one thing was certain: he would not give up, he would fight as long as the blood flowed in his veins, until the light of his soul was finally extinguished.

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barelyanartblog · 11 months ago

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Op you dare to hide this gem in the tags? Well too bad cause I'm making a comic about it >:D

Silm time travel fixit fic where Curufin is spat out into his younger self fairly early in YoT, and when his efforts to solve the Noldor's political/ Melkor problems bear no fruit... he just fucks off to Alqualonde to apprentice as a ship-builder, because it's a concrete and fixable future problem.

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happy-pearlae · 3 months ago

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Obssessed with elrond (adult , post war of the ring ) somehow meeting valinor era maglor , and just getting a sort of wiplash about everyone he meet , like dramatic arrogant unserious people , they were noldor of course he expected these charachteristics , but THIS MUCH

also maglor being an a****hole to him because he ended up with the reputation of the better singer , accidentally , he was just sad and stressed and sanf to himself a song MAGLOR HIMSELF composed to make himself feel better and someone overheard him

they ask him to sing and to undo the damage with makalaure he sing a silly song the tralalaly song

groundbreaking he is hailed as a code breaking genius

maglor is tearing his hair

#silmarillion #maglor #fanfic #elrond is so done #silm time travel #Elrond #elrond peredhel

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kitcat22 · 2 years ago

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Another Au thats been rattling around my head is a time travel Au where Turgon and the Lords of Gondolin wake up in the years of the trees

Turgon wakes up in his parents house in Tirion to the sound of birds tweeting outside his window.

Like most of his mornings his first moments of waking are blissfully pleasant … until reality comes crashing down on him. This time around the reality of his existence is even worse than before

He remembers watching as morgoths armies marched towards his city. He remembers the battles on the walls and in the streets and before his own tower. He remembers the death of his lords, his friends, and he remembers his own death too. He remembers of every piece of advice he ignored and every quiet warning from his daughter and the sounds of his people screaming, men,women and children all

And Turgon weeps

It takes a little while of crying his eyes out before it occurs to him that the halls of Mandos look an awful lot like his room at his parents house in tirion.

Confused, he wonders down the stairs through the familiar hallways and into the dining room where his father sits eating breakfast

Cue more confused crying

Nolofinwe is equally bewildered and very worried why Turukano is uncontrollably sobbing into his arms. He calls Anaire into the room but she is just as helpless as him

During this breakdown Turgon has his realisation that he’s in pre darking valinor comes to understand that either he’s been sent back in time ore the last few hundred years for him have been some strange dream. It occurs to him that if his parents are whole and well in front of him Elenwe must be alive too

Hearing his son mumble Elenwe’s name causes Nolofinwe to write a letter to Elenwe asking if everythings all right and if she could please return to tirion as something is very wrong with her husband.

Anaire tucks Turgon back into bed and sits beside him keeping watch.

Elenwe who is at an academic conference in Taniquetil while also visiting family, wakes up with memories up until falling through the ice.

She never reads her father in laws letter as she’s already madly dashing towards tirion.

When she arrives she and Turgon spend a long time cuddling and crying

Nolofinwe and Anaire, and by this point Findekano and Irrise, still have no clue whats going on

Elenwe and Turgon in the privacy of Turgons room tell each other what they remember

Elenwe is horrified and grieved to hear of all that happened after her death.

She longs for her brave,sensible daughter who grew up without her. Her daughter who has not even been conceived yet . She wishes she could have met her son in law who her husband speaks of with trust fondness, admiration and regret. She wonders about her apparently half elven grandson who Turgon speaks of as a sweet energetic child who loved sweets and games and staying up past his bedtime. She listens in horror at the tale of what fate befell the noldor upon reahcing beleriand.

Turgon realises with a panic that he doesnt know what happened to Maeglin. He desperately hopes he managed to escape. His nephew is to young to die , too young and full of promise. If Maeglin is dead then Turgon is responsible for the death of Aredhels son and that is not something that he can live with.

Neither of them can allow this dark future to become reality again

They realise that this is too difficult and unbelievable to explain to Turgons family so they promise them that they’ll explain everything eventually

No matter what it takes they will end the doom of the Noldor before it even begins

To be continued…

#silmarillion #the silm #the silmarillion #turgon #elenwe #fingolfin #anaire #time travel au #fall of gondolin #lords of gondolin #Lords of Gondolin time travel au

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beatles4ever65 · 9 months ago

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Manwë’s herald stands before them, all silver armor and white light as he carries a banner with the sky blue and white standard of the Vala. The brown feathers of a golden eagle peek out from under his pauldrons. “High King Elrondo Perelda Eärendilion, Lord of Imbeláris, High King of the Noldorin Exiles, you have been summoned to the Ring of Doom.” Elrond blinks. “What?” Maedhros gets more than he bargained for when he attempts a daring rescue. Meanwhile, Elrond must face the Valar when he is summoned to Máhanaxar.

Part of a time travel eldritch alternate universe about family, hope, grief, healing, and redemption.

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sesamenom · 10 months ago

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Tolkien only mentions people's absent mothers or wives if they're dead

...so about that:

dead, named

miriel

elenwe

luthien

nimloth (of doriath)

morwen

rian

nienor

aerin

finduilas [girlfriend]

eilinel [girlfriend]

arwen

theodwyn

tar-miriel

beruthiel

finduilas (of gondor)

primula

gilraen

elfhild

assumed eventually dead (mortal), named

adanel

andreth [girlfriend]

arachon

beldis

emeldir

zimrahin

gildis

gloredhel

hareth

hiril

meleth

elros' wife

tar-vanimelde

tar-ancalime

silmarien

almarian

erendis

ailinel

lindorie

inzilbeth

firiel

rian (of gondor)

morwen (of gondor)

morwen (of the dunedain)

ivorwen

not dead (as of last mention), named

tatie

nerdanel

indis

anaire

earwen

aredhel

idril

iminye

ilwen

meril [existence uncertain]

amarie [fiancee]

eldalote

enelye

galadriel

ungoliant

fluithin [existence uncertain]

varda

yavanna

vana

nessa

vaire

este

uinen

goldberry

melian

celebrian

elwing

lothiriel

eowyn

nimrodel (of lorien) [fiancee]

adamanta

lalia

eglantine

esmeralda

rosamunda

diamond

belladonna

donnamira

mirabella

belba

camellia

laura

pansy

linda

lobelia

chica

rosa

gilly

mimosa

prisca

dora

peony

tanta

lily

estella

alfrida

dina

cora

adaldrida

lavender

amethyst

ruby

sapphire

jessamine

gerda

druda

primrose

hilda

ivy

berylla

malva

hanna

salvia

menelgida

asphodel

nina

bell

marigold

rose (other one)

rose

lily (other one)

elanor

cwen

naimi

vaire (of tol eressea)

unnamed

nerdanel's mom

maglor's spouse [gender uncertain]

caranthir's spouse [gender uncertain]

celebrimbor's mom

ilion's wife

indis' mom

fingon's possible wife [existence disputed]

finduilas' mom

earwen's mom

denethor (of the laiquendi)'s mom

celeborn's first wife/amroth's mom [existence uncertain]

saeros' mom

cirdan's mom [existence disputed]

celeborn's mom

galadhon's mom

thranduil's mom

legolas' mom

nimloth (of doriath)'s mom

wives of beor, baran, belen, boron, baranor, beldir, boromir (of the beorians), bregor, beren (other one), bregolas, baragund, belegund

anduir's mom

amdir's wife/amroth's mom [existence uncertain]

wives of marach, imlach, magor, hathol, haldan, halmir, hundar, hunthor, haldad, haldar

bor's wife

ulfang's wife

gorlim's mom

dorlas' wife

aerin's mom

wives of vardamir, tar-amandil, nolondil, veantur, tar-elendil, earendur, axantur, hatholdir, caliondo, cemendur, hallatan, tar-anarion, tar-surion, isilmo, tar-minastir, tar-ciryatan, tar-atanamir, tar-ancalimon, tar-telemmaite, tar-alcarin, tar-calmacil, tar-ardamin, ar-adunakhor, ar-zimrathon, ar-sakalthor, tar-palantir, tar-gimilkhad

wives of valandil, earendur (second one), numendil, amandil, elendil, isildur, anarion, valandil, meneldil, eldacar, arantar, tarcil, tarondor, valandur, elendur, earendur (third one), amlaith, beleg, mallor, celepharn, celebrindor, malvegil, argeleb I, arveleg I, araphor, argeleb II, araval, araphant, aranarth, arahel, aranuir, aravir, aragorn I, araglas, arahad I, aragost, aravorn, arahad II, arassuil, arathorn I, argonui, arador,

wives of cemendur, earendil (of gondor), anardil, ostoher, tarostar, turambar (of gondor), atanatar I, siriondil, tarciryan, earnil I, ciryandil, ciryaher, calmacil, romendacil II, calimehtar, vidugavia, castamir, aldamir, hyarmendacil II, telemnar, minastan, tarondor, telumehtar, narmacil II, arciryas, calimehtar (other one), calimmacil, ondoher, siriondil (other one), earnil II

wives of marhari, marhwini, forthwini, frumgar, fram, leod, eorl, brego (of rohan), aldor, frea, freawine, freca, goldwine, deor, helm, hild, frealaf, brytta, walda, folcwine, fengel

wives of pelendur, vorondil, mardil, eradan, herion, belegorn, hurin I (of gondor), turin I (of gondor), hador (of gondor), barahir (of gondor), boromir (other one of gondor), cirion, hallas, hurin II, belecthor I, orodreth (of gondor), egalmoth (of gondor), beren (of gondor), beregond (other one), belecthor II, thorondir, turin II, turgon (of gondor), ecthelion II (of gondor)

wives of adrahil I, galador, agalahad, angelimir, adrahil II, elphir, imrahil

smeagol's grandmother

ibal's mom

beorn's wife [mortality uncertain]

ghan's wife

wives of girion, bard, bain, brand, bard II

wives of baranor (of gondor), beregond, borlas, berelach II

grima's mother

dunhere's mother

aghan's mother

mim's wife

wives of durin I, durin II, durin III, durin IV, durin V, durin VI, nain I, thrain I, thorin I, gloin (other one), oin (other one), nain II, dain I, borin, thror, thrain, gror, nain, farin, fundin, groin, dain II, gloin, thorin III

isengrim II's wife [mortality uncertain]

wives of isumbras III, ferumbras II, fortinbras I, isumbras IV, isumbold, isembard, adalgrim, flambard, sisigmond, adelard, ferdinand

wives of odo, olo, polo, ponto, dudo, adalgar, jago, gundahad, vigo, bosco

wives of gorhendad, sadoc, saradas, orgulas, marmadas, hamfast, wiseman, holman, cottar, hobson, holman, andwise, halfred, frodo (gardner), holfast

wives of woden, heden, eoh, tulkastor

if we include implied mortality (orange), we have our totals of:

total named: 129

dead, named: 43 not dead, named: 86

total unnamed: 273

probably dead, unnamed: 230 not dead, unnamed: 43

obviously the eventual mortality of the gazillion numenoreans does impact these numbers quite a bit, but it still does stand that more of the unnamed mothers/wives are dead than the named ones (84% vs 33%)

---

other notes:

orange = implied eventual death due to mortality at some point up to the end of the TA

[gender uncertain], [girlfriend], and [fiancee] characters were counted as wives

[existence uncertain] and [existence disputed] characters were included

[mortality uncertain] characters were counted as not dead

actually not only is Legolas’s mother still alive, post-quest she was like ‘Aragorn I’m your mum now’ and Aragorn was like ‘that’s kind of you but no need’ and she was like ‘NO. I AM YOUR MUM NOW.’

& Legolas was solemnly like ‘this means we are brothers now. I take my brotherly responsibilities very seriously. Family game night is on Tuesdays.’

that’s what happened.

#silm adjacent #not art #geneaology #names #please appreciate this it took me three hours ;-;#hobbits and numenoreans took two hours to untangle #side note why are there so many berens.#anyways headcanon that legolas' mom died sometime in the angmar war era #please let me know if i misplaced or forgot anybody #except the time travel isekai people from lost road. i have no clue whether their families count as dead so they don't get to be on here lo

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aylen-san · 1 year ago

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Meeting with Finwe

Maglor was so overjoyed when he saw his grandfather Finwë here, in the past, on the shores of the lake where all Elves had awakened, that he forgot where he was. Finwë had always been an unwavering figure for him, capable of solving any problem. When he saw his silhouette in the distance, Maglor's heart skipped a beat with unexpected happiness. The Elf was just as he remembered him: tall, with noble features and kind eyes full of wisdom and care.

Finwë stood on the shore of Lake Cuiviénen, bathed in the soft light of the stars, as if immersed in a fairy tale world where time had frozen. The wind gently played with his dark hair, and a barely noticeable mysterious smile lingered on his lips. His clothing was simple, but to Canafinwë, its modesty held a special elegance and grandeur. Overwhelmed by this vision, Maglor felt tears welling up in his eyes—tears of nostalgia and relief.

He stepped closer, feeling how each of his movements was filled with memories of the serene days of his childhood spent in Tirion. His grandfather turned, hearing his footsteps. Canafinwë hadn't realized how much he had missed him, and, blinded by emotion, rushed to embrace the stunned Elf. Finwë, surprised, accepted the embrace, not knowing that before him stood his grandson from a distant future. This moment, filled with warmth and tenderness, became for Maglor the embodiment of new hope and a fresh beginning.

However, it did not last long. Soon, the young Finwë broke free from his embrace and stared at him, puzzled. Only then did Maglor see how young he was—his features were still soft, and his eyes full of genuine surprise and wary curiosity. His hair was thicker and shinier, cascading over his shoulders in gleaming waves. Maglor involuntarily stepped back, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He realized that standing before him was not the wise and experienced Finwë he knew, but a young Elf just beginning his journey.

Finwë watched him closely, as if trying to understand who this strange stranger was who had suddenly embraced him. His eyes were filled with many questions, but none of them were spoken aloud. He tried to recall this unfamiliar face but to no avail. Slightly furrowing his brows, he examined the stranger’s features, striving to catch any familiar detail.

Maglor stood, hesitating to take another step, sensing the tension between them growing. In the silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the lapping of the waves against the shore, it seemed as if time had stopped. Finwë, still wary, slowly examined the stranger. His eyes, full of deep blue light, sparkled with inquisitive curiosity, but there was also a hint of distrust in them.

"Who are you?" Finwë finally asked cautiously, as if afraid to shatter this strange moment.

Maglor tried to smile, but his emotions overwhelmed him. He knew he couldn’t reveal the truth yet, or he risked altering the future in unpredictable ways. Although he wanted to share everything that burned in his heart.

"I…" he began but fell silent, not knowing what to say. "I am just a wanderer, searching for my place under the stars."

Finwë frowned, but a shadow of sympathy flickered in his eyes. It seemed he sensed that before him stood someone whom fate had cruelly tested. Though he didn’t understand this feeling, something about this Elf reminded him of himself. Perhaps it was something elusive in his gaze or the weight that seemed to rest on his shoulders.

"Then stay with us, wanderer," Finwë said gently, placing a hand on Maglor's shoulder. "Here, on the shores of Cuiviénen, all will find refuge and peace."

Maglor nodded, grateful for the offer to stay. The feeling of youth, freshness, and freedom overwhelmed him, giving him the strength to continue. He smelled the fresh grass and heard the birds singing, which seemed so distant and foreign in his past. For the first time since Maglor had found himself in the past, he allowed himself to slow down. Wandering alone through the primeval forest without any purpose was not something he enjoyed. Perhaps here, next to his grandfather, he would understand why he had ended up in the past.

#art #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien #fanfic #maglor #kanafinwe #makalaure #finwe #meeting #beleriand #time travel #secret identity #silmarillion #silm fic #lort #lort of the rings

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ibrithir-was-here · 6 months ago

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Did another redraw of an old Silm piece of the Silm Triplets, added in the Ring Babies as well. Thought I’d give a little overview of both sibling sets in this AU for those just finding it through the redraws

So when I first made these AUs they were pretty wobbly but its firmed up since, so here's the layout of the 'canon' of the AUs xD

Big Credit to @yellow-faerie for helping set some of these points in their fic "All Good Things Come in Threes"

Everything is the same, except that Feanor not only creates the Silmarils but gives them life as well, to his delight and the deep concern of everyone else (though Nerdanel and the boys do love their new additions). Due to their

The girls revert to silmaril form when they feel threatened/sense evil, so when they're stolen as children by Morgoth, they're basically trapped in stone form for years in his crown, and don't age until they're freed.

The fate of the girls is as follows :

Altafinwende/Narewen--Radience of Finwe/Woman of Flame: The silmaril that Maedhros eventually jumps into the fiery chasm with, when he realizes that his own little sister (still in stone form) senses the evil he's done and rejects his touch. In despair, he decides to release them both from their misery and jumps--but she survives to eventually be awakened by the dwarves of Erebor (cuz yeah we're gonna make the Arkenstone into a Silmaril cuz it just works. She lives with them for a time, treasured as a blessing from Mahal, until Smaug comes. She next awakens again when Bilbo takes her out to bargain with Thranduil and ends up staying with around Lake Town/The Lonely Mountain, helping them both rebuild, and she stays until the end of the Third Age

Mirefinwende/Eabariel-- Jewel of Finwe/Sea Traveling Daughter - the silmaril that Maglor throws into the sea, too wrapped in pain and guilt to realize he's just thrown away his baby sister. In this AU though, for fun and angst, and because she's sentient, the Sea returns her to the shore, and Maglor finds her--but is still unable to bear her touch. But he raises her as best he can, traveling the shores together, teaching her song craft. And they stay together until the end of the Third Age

Harmafinwende/Tellumaien-- Treasure of Finwe/Sky Friend-- the silmaril that is rescued by Beren and Luthien. She eventually reveals her elf form to them, and they raise her as their daughter alongside Dior. She rejects returning with her Feanorian brothers when they try to take her back by force, and escapes with her niece Elwing. She is in and out of stone form due to her trauma, taking it again when the Havens fall, and does not awaken again until Earendil takes her onto Valinor. She ends up sailing the sky with Earendil as his companion.

The three are reunited at last at the end of the Third Age, when the other two sail back to Valinor. Since basically all their families are in the Halls of Mandos, they stay with Elrond's household.

Now to the Ring Babies!

Celebrimbor, in his wonderful creativity, manages to accidentally figure out how to reacreate whatever Feanor did to awaken the Silmarils when making the rings, and they too manifest as children. Each one, along with the elemental they're meant to conrrol, has also something of the essence of their intended bearer

Vilya, the youngest and most carefree, has the courage of King Gil-Galad

Nenya, the thoughtful and quite middle child, the cunning of the Lady Galadriel

And to Narya, the eldest, the charm and cleverness of his original intended bearer--Annatar, before he was revealed to be Sauron the Deceiver

Celebrimbor has a few happy years with them, waiting for Annatar to return from his travels--and then several heartbroken, very tense years trying to plan how to protect his children, his city, and ultimately the world when Sauron is revealed to him.

As in canon Celebrimbor is able to send the rings off to safety, in this timeline forced to separate them in the necessity of better insuring Sauron not being able to track them all down and unmake their physical forms to gain their power.

The three Ring Children grow up under the watch of their caretakers/bearers, reuniting with their siblings whenever they're able/it is deemed safe by their gaurdians.

Vilya becomes a member of Gil-Galad's court, and afterwards follows Elrond to Imladris, becoming a captain of his guard.

Nenya is an attendant of Lady Galadriel and serves her faithfully in Lothlorian, being a younger foster sister of sorts to Celebrian while she remains in Middle Earth

Narya helps Ciraden with his ship building as best he can, but doesn't truly feel a deep bond with him. Of all his siblings, he feels the most conflicted with himself and his place in the world, knowing that part of his essence was based on a falsehood perpetrated by the Enemy. Eventually, though, he finds a mentor in Gandalf, becoming a his companion and apprentice. Gandalf helps him feel he can truly help others and trust himself. (He'd be the biggest canon divergance in this AU by dint of being around the Fellowship, though its possible he stays in ring form for a good while when The One is around, so as not to attract undo attention. Only taking physical form in the Two Towers when Gandalf comes back)

The Ring Babies can also take their original ring forms at will, and will resort to them if their physical forms are badly injured enough.

They of course also sail at the end of the Third Age, and are reunited with Celebrimbor in Aman at last.

_____

Couple of extras here as well

(There's also a couple of AUs of these AUs 😅

The Happy Silvergifting Ending timeline with the Ring Babies where Sauron decides to just stay with Tyelpe and not take over Middle Earth and they raise the babies together--but still have to deal with Ar-Pharazon and Numenor later. With Pharazon capturing Annatar and Narya and Tyelpe and co trying to rescue them.

One where Sauron still decides to be Sauron, but also wants his cake so he takes Tyelpe and the babies back to Mordor with him, which was wonderfully written in "All's Well that Ends Better" by @trashipsinc

With the Silmarils there's an AU where instead of Tellumaien being raised as a sister to Dior its just Dior straight up who was the Silmaril, which makes the attack on Doriath waaay more complicated, as does the whole situation with Elrond and Elros being part Silmaril

And then there's the vauge AU concept of "What if the One Ring gets turned into a Ring Baby" with Malya

So yeah, that's the overview of all these 😅 Feel free to ask any questions you like about them!

#my art #Silm triplets AU #ring babies AU #tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarils #the rings of power #narya #Nenya #Narewen #eabarieal #tellumaien #vilya #jrr tolkien #Silm art

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