#Gardens of Tulkas

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being in love with Aegnor but him being in love with someone else

You would do anything to ensure his happiness, including watching him love someone else.

Requested by Anon

Hello. Can you please write something about Aegnor x female Elf Reader with an angsty start and a happy ending? Please 🛐💕💕💕💕

Warnings: pining, social awkwardness, mentions of the kin slaying, crossing of Helcaraxe, death, angst, war, unrequited love, the Sudden Flames, death of characters, wandering alone, eventual return to the undying lands, reunion, and a half-happy ending?

(I'm sorry if this is not the one you had in mind, but this is all my mind would come up with. Also, this might have been done a bit messily. I had more trouble with the inspiration than I thought. )

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- You had known Aegnor for most of your life. Part of you almost wished you had never met him that day, as it might have spared you a lot of pain. However, the other part wouldn't have changed it for the world.

- You first met him when you were children. 

- You were an awkward quiet kid. You did not know how to make many friends and you kinda hated that about yourself. You were the total opposite of what a proud Noldor should be. 

- Then you met Aegnor at a social gathering. 

- It was an accidental meeting. Your parents had forced you to accompany them to a social gathering held outdoors in a garden. You brought a book with you, intending to avoid socializing, and found a quiet place to read, away from the others.

- You were engrossed with your book, but then you heard sounds coming from the bush beside you, then another elfling jumped through, dumping into you. 

- It was awkward as you both stared at each other in shock. You became more embarrassed when you recognized him as Aegnor, one of Prince Finarfin’s sons. 

- He quickly apologized and giggled, asking you to be quiet because he was playing hide and seek with his siblings and cousins.

- You kept quiet, but you two were quickly found by one of his cousins, Fingon. 

- They asked you why you were there alone, and you were too embarrassed to tell them. They then asked if you wanted to join them in their game. 

- You asked if it would be weird for you to join, but Aegnor did not care and pulled you along. 

- Perhaps that was the moment you fell in love with him. 

- You had fun with them while you played, even proved yourself good at hiding. 

- When it was time for you to leave, you almost didn’t want to go. Your parents looked surprised when you returned to them with Aegnor and bid him farewell. They teased you for it and were delighted that you were actually playing with someone. 

- You did not like their teasing and refused to tell them about it.  

- You kinda regretted not asking if you could see him again when the years passed, but accepted it was just a one-time thing and tried to forget it. 

- Until the day arrived when you would become one of lord Tulkas’s students and start your warrior training. You met Aegnor again with his brother. 

- He had grown taller and his hair shone gold like the leaves of Laurelin. When he saw you, he recognized you immediately. He did not hesitate to come and greet you like you two were old friends. 

- You became shy around him again but did not try to run away and catch up to him. 

- The training day went quickly with him around. And when you had trouble finding a sparring partner, he agreed to be your partner. 

- You spent a lot of time together sparring. You eventually confessed to him that you didn’t have a lot of friends because you were shy. 

- He then said he was more than willing to become your friend and that's how you then became friends. 

- You became eager to see him during training, getting to know each other and even befriending his brother Angrod. 

- You even started seeing him outside the training as he brought you along and wanted to help you open up and get friends for yourself. You followed him around like a duck, as it felt easy for him to lead and you to follow. 

- You got along with his cousins and even became odd friends with his sister, Galadriel. You were both the quiet type, but you got along well and understood each other without saying much. That baffled her brothers and they thought you two became good friends enough to use Osawne, which was not the case. 

- You grew together with them, and perhaps that’s how your crush on him only grew. 

- You both became great fighters under lord Tulkas’ teachings. You two were perhaps his best students. However, Aegnor was slightly better than you. He grew taller and physically stronger, beating you in each sparring match. 

- You sometimes managed to beat him as you were swifter in feet. 

- He grew up to be a passionate elf, even though he sometimes got into trouble with his cousins from Prince Feanor’s house. 

- Thanks to him, you managed to become more social and make more friends than try to hide away from everything. You still disliked social gatherings but managed to become more tolerant toward them. 

- You and Aegnor were slight opposites as he was passionate and wild, while you were calm and cool. 

- When you both grew up, you began to take notice of your crush on him but held them back since he most likely only saw you as a friend. 

- It was not hard to hide them from him since he was pretty oblivious, but his sister was the only one you couldn’t hide your feelings from. 

- You told her about your feelings for her brother, and she was supportive and even tried to encourage you to go with them. However, you did not want to risk your friendship with Aegnor, so you never did. 

- You were also only from a lower noble class while he was a prince, so to you, he was beyond your league. 

- You had become close friends with Fingon and Aegnor’s older brother Finrod as you had gotten pulled into their shenanigans. You cared for them and often sought advice from Finrod. He had unintentionally become an older brother figure to you. 

- However, after such a long peaceful life in Aman. Things began to go wrong when the Valars released Melkor from his captivity. 

- The fallen Vala managed to reap chaos and mistrust as Feanor had become more hostile toward his half-brothers and even pulled a sword on Fingolfin’s neck. 

- The Valars punished Prince Feanor and banished him temporarily from Tirion. 

- It managed to calm things down for some time, but it did not end the unrest as Melkor was still allowed to walk free. 

- Then worst happened when Feanor was summoned back, and Melkor destroyed the two trees, sending Aman into darkness. 

- Feanor went mad and attacked the Teleri in Alqualonde to steal their ships. You were there to defend the Teleri with Aegnor and his siblings as they tried to protect the Teleri, but the battle had come to a devastating end and the port was filled with death. 

- What was even worse, even you, and those who tried to defend the Teleri were doomed and banished from Aman. 

- Feanor had then sailed to Middle Earth with his sons and host and burned the boats, forcing Fingolfin and the rest of you to cross Helcaraxe. 

- You and your family were loyal to Fingolfin, and for your friendship with Aegnor, you left with them too. 

- The journey was cruel as many lost their lives to the cold and the ice, including some people from your family. 

- Aegnor helped you to get through and comfort you through the loss. You were grateful for it and through many grueling days, you all managed to reach Middle Earth. 

- Things in Beleriand were no better. 

- Feanor had lost his life at the hands of Balrogs, his eldest son was captured by the enemy, and the Noldor were divided by those led by Fingolgin and those who followed the sons of Feanor. 

- You stayed by Aegnor’s side and eventually, things calmed down when Fingon went to rescue Maedhros from the enemy, and the latter relinquished the title of high king to Fingolfin. You did not support the sons of Feanor for their actions, but you felt respect for the eldest son for his decision since it allowed the unrest to die down. 

- Aegnor grew to despise them for their actions and felt slightly betrayed that Fingon would decide to save one of the kin slayers. Luckily, you managed to talk to him and the two retained their friendship over the years. 

- You stayed close to Aegnor so you could offer him your blade when needed, and then you watched how he fell in love with a human woman named Andreth. 

- Your heart broke at the sight, but when he looked happy with her, you felt happy for him too. You could not even blame him. You met Andreth, and she was a kind and wise woman from her people. You could even say that you loved her dearly too. You could not be mad at her for having Aegnor’s heart and it made you sad that the two couldn’t be together due to the rule of not marrying during war. 

- To avoid putting yourself in their way, you try to focus on other things and distance yourself from the pair’s happiness. 

- You were then approached by Finrod, who was against the relationship. He was a fond friend to the race of men, but in his mind, an elf and a human couldn't be together due to the mortality of humans.

- You actually defended Aegnor’s and Andreth’s relationship. He was not wrong that their fates would be different and that war did not allow marriages, but you believed they should be allowed to be happy while they still had time together. 

- Finrod was surprised by your reasoning and then asked about your feelings for Aegnor. He had been aware of them the whole time. He also asked what you would do since Aegnor will most likely never know love again after Andreth is gone or leave the halls of Mandos if he dies so he could wait for her return. 

- You answered even though you loved him, you cared about his happiness more than your own. If that is what Aegnor wished then you will not oppose it. 

- Finrod felt saddened for you but respected your decision. 

- Then the horrible tragedy struct when Morgoth released the flames from Thangorodrim and orcs flooded Dorthonion. You fought all you could, but you then had to witness Aegnor’s and his brother’s death. Unable to do anything. 

- You were filled with rage and started killing all the orcs you could. Unfortunately, there were too many of them, and you passed out from exhaustion. 

- However, instead of dying or finding yourself captured. You woke up beneath some hubris and dug your way out. 

- You witnessed the devastation left by the orcs and then you were found by Andreth, who was glad to see you alive. 

- You both mourned Aegnor’s death and tried to bury him and his brother as best as you two could since the orcs did not spare mangling their bodies beyond recognition. 

- You then stayed with Andreth in her home, mourning and contemplating everything that had happened. Andreth had been aware of your love toward Aegnor, and then you two comforted each other. 

- You stayed with her until the end of her days, as Aegnor was not able to do so, and you felt your heart break for her too. You did not know what else to do now that they both were gone, but you then decided to return to those who were still alive. 

- You were welcomed by Finrod, who was surprised yet glad to find you alive since the destruction of Dorthonion. He allowed you to stay in Nargothrond until many years later, when it was destroyed by Glaurung, forcing you to go on the run.

- You lost many things over the years. By luck, you managed to reunite with your friend Galadriel and stay with her till the war of wrath. 

- Since some of you were granted a pardon to return to Aman, you decided to sail and be reunited with your family. 

- Many years later, you were reunited with Finrod, then surprisingly with Aegnor, who you believed would never return after Andreth’s death. 

- You both spoke about the things that had happened and your feelings. 

- You both together mourned Andreth and perhaps in hopes you both would be waiting for her. You found peace and happiness with each other again despite the odds.

[outofangband]

The rest of the Valar offer their advice to Melkor (BoLT verse) during his imprisonment in Mandos!

Like my Angband paperwork, the handwriting choices were vital :)

@tolkien-feels this is in part for you 

Image description/transcript:

Dear Melko, I hope this aids in thy self reflection. Please consider too the advice our brethren have so kindly left for thee! Best wishes, your brother :)

Remain in the outskirts of Arda. Stay away from the Children. Bask under the light of the stars. Love, Varda 

 meditate, take walks, I don’t know what’s in fashion to relax these days but please try. I can’t keep getting called to council meetings about you. Kills my loner aesthetic-Ulmo

Learn woodworking, knitting, or another productive craft. Ideally one that doesn’t involve mutilation or imprisonment of living creatures. Improve your skills and enjoy your (safe, harmless) accomplishments.-Aulë

Quarantine your mutants and stay away from my creations. I helped Tulkas with his garden. That’s just a fun life update. Not in any way a threat. Obviously. Enjoy Mandos. Sincerely, Yavanna 

Contemplative strolls, swims, letting yourself become lost in your thoughts. Keep a dream diary. Visit my gardens. We get bored, you know.-Irmo 

Oh, do visit. There is healing to be found here for all. But be warned, it is so easy to become lost in my husband’s mazes…-Estë

Stop and smell the flowers. Literally. Enjoy little moments of joy and peace. There is beauty in so much. Peace, Vána

Come monster hunting with me! I won’t let Tulkas Punch you more than once!! Promise! -Oromë

Run. Run hard and fast until your breath is gone and you can no longer distinguish between hot and cold upon your face.-Nessa 

No one ever taught me to lie convincingly, sorry no advice for you. But not actually sorry. Written by: tulkas 

(Vairë does not communicate verbally) 

As I currently am overseeing your stay in Mandos, it would be a breach of ethics to offer advice of this nature. But I do hope you receive advice on how to remain out of my halls. From, Námo 

[cilil]

Author's Note: My contribution for @myslashyvalentine 2023 - Angbang for @verecunda. Hope you enjoy!

Huge thanks to @edensrose and @tragedybunny for helping me edit♡

5 Times They Gave Gifts & 1 Time They Gave Themselves

His entire fána tingled when he heard Melkor chuckling softly; he was close, so close.

Pairing: Melkor/Mairon | Angbang

Characters: Melkor | Morgoth, Mairon | Sauron, mentions of Aulë, Yavanna, Manwë, Varda, Oromë, Tulkas and the Fëanturi

Synopsis: How an unlikely bond between a Vala and a Maia grew and blossomed into something beautiful.

Featuring: 5+1, episodic, romance, falling in love, secret relationship, Ainur doing Ainur things, a bit of poetry, mythology references & symbolism

Long oneshot (~7.3k words)

Also available on AO3

The white willow's branches swayed in a gentle breeze, leaves rustling as if thousands of little voices were whispering in the wind, and Mairon looked up from the sketchbook on his lap with mild irritation when a stray leaf landed between the pages. Its song would never compare to the soft crackling of fire, he thought, removing it with a flick of his wrist–a blasphemous thought to have, here in the middle of Lady Yavanna's pastures, yet none of his fellow Ainur were nearby, nor would he let them perceive his mind so easily. 

Venturing out into the gardens was something Mairon did only rarely–and this particular willow he was sitting under reminded him why–but he had determined it was the best course of action. Lord Aulë had revealed to his most trusted Maiar that his wife was planning to organise a spring celebration and asked them to create jewellery and decorations for it, so Mairon had decided to gather some inspiration from Lady Yavanna's creations, thinking flower-shaped trinkets and floral patterns would surely please his peers. 

Setting his pen aside after finishing another sketch, he flicked through the pages of his book to see if he had collected a sufficient amount. He had spent hours exploring the luscious greenery before finding the secluded spot under the willow and sitting down to refine his rough sketches; he had studied all sorts of flowers, the daisies on the meadow around him, the roses winding around graceful arches, the azalea shrubs growing alongside meandering pathways through the gardens, violets, poppies, chrysanthemums, sunflowers, tulips, snowdrops, forget-me-nots, lilies, crocuses... he had even fished a lotus flower out of a small pond to get a better look at its petal structure. 

His sketches would certainly yield acceptable results, Mairon mused, at least no one could claim a lack of dedication. None of Yavanna's designs were of particular interest to him personally, but nevertheless he aimed to please. Perhaps he should craft a couple of necklaces, bracelets and anklets as well for those who enjoyed dancing, gifts for his lord and his lady respectively, maybe even a lovely ring for his own collection– 

Mairon froze when he suddenly sensed another Ainu in his proximity. It took a moment until he realised who was approaching him, the sensation of his presence growing in magnitude and splendour as he drew near. 

Melkor? Here and now? 

He looked over his shoulder to see the tall figure of the Dark Vala emerging from the willow's shadow, eyeing him with unabashed curiosity and mirth. 

"My lord," Mairon greeted hastily and gave a respectful nod. It wasn't the first time he had come across He who arises in Might, and he had–admittedly–grown fond of receiving his attention, yet to say he was at ease during such encounters wouldn't be true. His fána always prickled with a mixture of excitement and fear that they would be discovered at any moment. 

"Mairon."

Melkor stepped away from the willow and walked through Yavanna's domain with utmost confidence and a certain carelessness, stepping on a couple of flowers as he went; her creations appeared to be beneath his concern, and deep down Mairon admired these subtle displays of power. The Vala was wearing long, flowing black robes, plain yet elegant, and a couple of colourful gems in his hair. It appeared as though he had attempted to brush it, only for his unruly strands to sway, shift and coil as they pleased, making the Maia wonder if it had a will of its own. 

For a moment Melkor stood next to him in silence, looking at him with a hint of uncertainty, then asked, "May I?" 

"Of course." 

Mairon smiled when he sat down next to him and immediately glanced at his sketchbook with barely concealed curiosity. Never before had a Vala behaved like this in front of him; it was refreshing, in a strange way. 

"I was not aware you enjoy drawing flowers," Melkor said, pointing at his sketches. 

"I don't." 

It felt good to speak freely, Mairon noticed. In front of Lord Aulë or his fellow Maiar he always had to pretend he loved whatever Lady Yavanna made, like everyone else did. Melkor, as he had quickly learned, was the only one who cared to hear his honest opinions and wouldn't scold him for voicing them. 

"Another commission then?"

"Indeed. Lady Yavanna is planning a spring celebration." 

It was only after he had already said these words that Mairon realised he had revealed something that he should probably have kept to himself. Had he just betrayed Aulë's trust? Or had he perhaps done so already when he had spoken to Melkor for the first time, on that fateful, lonely evening some time ago? 

"You don't want to make any of these trinkets you sketched, do you?" The Vala's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Mairon nodded wordlessly. 

"Understandably so. It is truly a crime that your lord would have you craft meaningless little things for his wife and her servants when you could achieve so much more with your potential..." 

"Ah."

A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips as Mairon closed his sketchbook and set it aside, then turned towards Melkor and crossed his arms. 

"Of course. Another ploy to win me over, is it not? Yet it is so painfully obvious. You will have to try harder than that, my lord." 

Melkor chuckled in response, a twinkle of amusement lighting up his eyes. 

"Truly, you cannot be deceived as easily as others of our kin," he mused. "Though..." 

His expression became a little sheepish, and he averted his gaze in an attempt to conceal his sudden shift in demeanour. 

"I will have you know, there is another reason why I continue to seek you out."

"Another?" Mairon asked, raising an eyebrow. He had no intention of being satisfied with such a vague statement. "Tell me then." 

"Demanding, are you not?" 

Melkor had resorted to fidgeting with a gem he had plucked out of his hair, watching intently as if he was fascinated by his own movements. It appeared as though he was fighting with himself. 

"I wanted to see you again," he finally admitted. 

Mairon was taken aback by such a candid answer from the Vala many had called a liar, and was silent for a moment, causing Melkor to glance up at him through the dark strands of his hair, falling in front of his face like a curtain of night. 

"Does that bother you?" 

"No, my lord. It is just... I would have never assumed... why would you feel inclined to..." 

Melkor sat up straight and shook his hair out of his face, nearly sending a few diamonds flying. 

"Because I want to," he said. Noticing Mairon's confusion, he added, "And no, I am not... particularly interested in what others think I should and should not do. As a Vala or otherwise." 

Mairon remained quiet, thoughts racing as he tried to decipher the exact implications of such a statement. He who arises in Might wanted to see him. It felt almost blasphemous that the mightiest of the Valar and brother of the Elder King himself would think so highly of a humble forge Maia. Was it inappropriate of him to stay and listen to such flattery? Should he be worried? Should he leave? Perhaps he should, Aulë would certainly want him to, yet there was something in the eyes of the Vala in front of him that bade him stay and listen. 

Sensing his uncertainty, Melkor produced something from the depths of his robe and presented it to Mairon. It was a red apple, like the ones growing on Yavanna's beloved trees, though more vibrant in colour. 

"Here. For you, little flame." 

The endearment and the gift caused the Maia to blush and he hurried to accept the apple. Melkor's fingers brushed against his as he took it from his hands, and he sensed it wasn't by accident. 

"I–thank you, my lord," he said, chastising himself for forgetting his manners for a moment. 

"I hope it will be to your liking." 

Melkor's smile broadened and his eyes gleamed, a mesmerising display of pride and joy. 

"For you see, I made this one myself." 

"I wasn't aware you grow trees. They say you hate the kelvar and olvar," Mairon said, eyeing the apple and weighing it in his hands. 

"I hate what Yavanna makes of them," Melkor corrected him. "Yet fortunately it is well within my power to make of their creations what I will." 

The power to shape, to design, to improve... Mairon thought, excitement rising within him. Truly, it was a wonderful gift; not merely the apple itself, but also the things it represented. 

"Will you not have a bite?" Melkor asked. "These apples taste sweet–though if you prefer the sour ones, I can bring you another next time we meet." 

Mairon looked up from the apple he had been studying, eyes shining with admiration. 

"I know not whether to eat it or encase it in gold so I may keep it forever."

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The Valar have grown vigilant. 

Low rumbles echoed through the mountainous caverns and labyrinthine hallways of Utumno in a steady rhythm, as if the heart of Arda itself was beating right underneath it. Flames crackled and coiled inside fireplaces, braziers and forging furnaces, and lava flowed within small rivers and basins with a sluggish bubbling sound. At times a stray gust of wind could be heard from the upper levels of the fortress, reminding its residents of the icy storm raging on the surface outside.  

Claw-like nails tapped on an obsidian tabletop inside the dark lord's study as Melkor sat in silence, looking down at his hands with a scowl on his face, deep in thought. To his chagrin, he hadn't seen Mairon in a while, all thanks to his Valarin brethren's efforts. Manwë kept his watchful gaze upon his fellow Ainur after a couple of Maiar had vanished without a trace, Varda was probably aiding him with her hearing, Oromë and Tulkas were frequently seen prowling the lands around Almaren and the Fëanturi–well, Melkor couldn't tell if they had been tasked with watching over the realm as well, but he knew their spiritual senses were sharp and neither of them would be easily fooled, not even by the most elaborate of illusion spells. 

Curse them, all of them.

His nails dug into the table he was sitting at, leaving thin furrows on its surface as not even the stone could quite withstand the fury of a Vala. 

How dare they keep my little flame away from me? Surely Aulë must know this one is not truly his. Those of fiery nature are mine by right, they feel drawn to me... and does not Yavanna herself agree with that?

If Melkor's sources were correct, she did indeed. He had been told by spies within the couple's household that the Queen of the Earth mistrusted fire spirits after most of them had been revealed as servants of the Dark Vala and had little love for Mairon, her husband's brightest and most talented pupil. Another thing that made Melkor's blood boil. 

How is it that she and her spineless husband were gifted with one of Eru's most beautiful creations, only to disregard and shun such an admirable spirit? Such talent, such potential... it cannot be contained by their petty rules and customs.

He had an inkling that his brethren's watchfulness would decrease eventually, yet for now there was nothing that could be done. Naturally he could always attempt to sneak into Almaren, but as soon as he was discovered Tulkas would be after him again. And Mairon would be in danger as well if they were seen together. No, he couldn't risk it, not right now at least.

And still, his need to see and speak to him again grew with every passing day. 

The tapping stopped and Melkor's brow furrowed as an idea came to mind. There was a way to contact him without having to be present in either fána or fëa. Had his obnoxious brother not attempted such a thing himself, using a thin–and very flammable, as he had quickly discovered–material called parchment to write down his poetry for the coming of the Children? Melkor had found a couple of scrolls before and burned them after reading, simply out of spite; even though he knew Manwë would surely remember what was written there and could replace it. As asinine as such a work had seemed to him back then, it could now prove to be useful after all. 

Reaching out with his fëa, Melkor ordered one of his servants to bring him some parchment, ink and a quill; how and where these tools were acquired was none of his concern. He continued brooding in silence while he waited, drawing random patterns on the table with his index finger. As the mightiest of the Valar he knew many things and little in this world was beyond his power, yet it now occurred to him that he had no idea how to compose such a piece of writing. A letter. A love letter, as Manwë and Irmo would call it. 

Melkor was fairly certain he could imitate the small symbols his brother had used to write down his poetry, but he didn't know if those were used among Aulë's folk; and if they were, others might catch a glimpse of what was meant for the eyes of Mairon only. Nor could he think of any way to voice what he felt about his little flame, at least not in a coherent or poetic manner as would be expected of him. After all, he was an Ainu, not one of Manwë's petty servants– 

Icy blue eyes lit up in the darkness, an idea forming in his mind. Yes, he was an Ainu indeed, and this was how he would express his adoration to the Admirable One. 

By the time his servant returned to hastily deliver the desired items to the Dark Vala, Melkor was humming to himself, a melody beginning to form in his heart, ready to flow from his fingertips and onto the parchment in rivers of pitch-black ink. 

And he wove a song of fire, 

Of heat and flame and raw desire, 

Of beauty, light and unbound passion, 

Creation, destruction and refashion. 

A song of golden eyes and fiery hair,

Of an alluring voice and features fair, 

Of a mind and hands meant to create,

Of admiring a spirit made to be great.

At first it was difficult for Melkor to write down the music he heard in his mind, drawing every line and every note with careful consideration, yet after a while he became used to it and the melodies slowly but steadily took shape in front of him. Once the entirety of the parchment was filled, he leaned back and beheld his work, and he was content with what he had achieved. Hopefully Mairon would understand the meaning of such a gift, though he had faith that the Maia would. 

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Bubbling, gurgling streams of lava wound their way across the plain of jagged obsidian and down the steep cliffs, meeting the icy waters of the ocean below with a sharp hiss. Clouds of steam wafted through the area like ghostly, ethereal fog, alight with the sunset's fiery glow. Charred remnants of dead trees endured between rivers of flame, holding on to the rock they stood on like phantoms of what had once been, a reminder of a past that would soon be forgotten. 

Mairon was wandering alongside the edge of the plain, beholding its ruin. Yet he wasn't afraid as he perhaps should be; he was watching the scenery with fascination and awe. It was the first time he had seen the pure, unrestrained might of his element, the destruction it could bring, and it was as if something inside him had been freed, a part of himself that he had been forced to hide and lock away until now. 

It was only a dream, he knew; if any of it was real, he wouldn't be allowed to walk here in peace as he did now. He would be told to go back to his forge and remain there like a good little Maia while his lord and lady fixed everything. And still, it felt so incredibly real, like he was awake and present to enjoy all of these new, strange, wonderful sensations. 

Mairon stopped walking when he came upon a tall rock and raised his eyes to see a lonely tree on top of it. Yet unlike its unfortunate brethren, this tree seemed strangely intact–its trunk and branches were black, making it seem as though it too had been burned, but it was covered in white and pink blossoms, reminiscent of a cherry tree in spring. The wind carried its petals towards him as if something was beckoning him closer, and Mairon followed the silent call. 

Sitting under the tree was Melkor, his back resting against its trunk like he meant to take a nap. He was wearing a short dressing gown made out of black silk, his bare legs and feet outstretched in a display of calm nonchalance, unharmed by heat and sharp rocks. His hair was adorned with the tree's petals and blossoms instead of gems, though Mairon couldn't tell if it was on purpose or if they had simply fallen on top of him. 

Melkor raised his head upon sensing his presence, his gaze alight with withering heat and piercing cold at the same time, a paradox woven into a strange kind of harmony within his being. 

"There you are, my beautiful," he said, and a content smile warmed his mien. "I was hoping you would find your way here." 

"You came into my dream," Mairon blurted out before he could stop himself, then thought about it for another moment. "Or am I in yours?" 

"Perhaps. One, the other, or a bit of both." 

The matter didn't seem to concern the Vala, he noticed. 

Melkor patted the rocky ground next to him. "Will you not sit with me?" 

"Gladly, my lord." 

The two Ainur were silent for a while, observing the leisurely flow of lava and rising clouds of steam, until Mairon couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. 

"Is this one of your works?" he asked, curious to learn more about this place–even if it was nothing more than a dream. 

"You could say that, yes." 

Melkor turned his head to look at him. 

"Do you like it?" When it took the Maia a moment to answer, he added, "You know you can be honest with me." 

"I love it," Mairon said, a simple, candid statement. It was relieving to voice what he felt, even though he didn't quite understand why. 

"You do? Interesting. I thought you would not exactly appreciate the mess I made," Melkor chuckled, plucking a stray petal out of the air to play with it. 

Mairon contemplated his words before he answered. It was true that he was a being of order, and yet there was a beauty contained within the Dark Vala's work that spoke to him. Awoke something within him. Beckoned him. 

"You know, I was always told that my element could bring nothing but destruction and ruin. Yavanna will not permit me to clothe myself in shapes of flame or let me practise how to make use of all my gifts. I am only allowed to care for the fires in my lord's forge. Yet now, you showed me what they never wanted me to see."

He motioned towards the dead trees. 

"She was right and wrong at the same time. Indeed, her fragile creations cannot withstand the true power of fire, and what has once been here is no more; but it may be made anew. For that is the reason why you burned down this plain, is it not? If death and ruin was all you wanted, you would have destroyed this tree as well."

To emphasise his point, he tapped on one of the blossoming tree's unearthed roots. 

There was a surge of warmth emitting from the Vala's fána and his expression was softer than Mairon had ever seen it before, glowing with pride, appreciation and–perhaps love, if he dared to hope that he could evoke such a reaction within the mightiest dweller of Arda. Melkor reached out to catch another blossom in his hand and leaned closer to Mairon, gently caressing his hair before placing it between his locks. 

"I cannot recall ever meeting another Ainu who understands me so well," he said, and for once his mighty voice sounded quiet and vulnerable. "Many times have I asked myself if I was alone, yet now I was finally able to share something of mine with a kindred spirit who does not tell me that all of my works are abhorrent. I thank you, my precious... my love." 

"Your–your love?" Mairon echoed, eyelids fluttering as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing and expected to wake up at any moment.

Melkor leaned closer to him, their faces mere inches apart, and Mairon felt his cool breath ghost over his skin like a gentle breeze on a starry night. 

"If you wish it as well, then yes." 

He didn't need to think before he answered. 

"Yes, I want it. All of it." 

Guided by instinct, he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and closed his eyes when Melkor raised his hand to cup his cheek. 

"All of it?" he asked, his thumb caressing the Maia's skin. 

"I want to see what else you have created, I want to hear you sing the song you made for me... and I want to be your love if you will have me," Mairon whispered. 

His entire fána tingled when he heard Melkor chuckling softly; he was close, so close.

"I do." 

And he kissed him underneath the burning sky, petals falling upon them both. 

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Valar or not, they shall not keep me away from him.

Melkor was walking the vast meadows around Almaren without taking shape, keeping his ëala hidden from prying eyes as best as he could. The lake around the island was glittering in the light of Illuin and Ormal, its surface still and smooth like silk, and the scent of flowers was everywhere, no matter where he went to escape it. There was faint singing in the distance, probably Maiar of Yavanna, Vána or Nessa who were practising for the spring celebration Mairon had told him about. 

Manwë's perfect little world. If Melkor had been wearing a fána, he would have turned up his nose and scowled. Pretty, symmetrical, uninspired, boring. And this was what they all wanted when there was so much more potential in the world? He shook his head and tried not to dwell on these thoughts for now, lest they ruined his mood or tempt him to find another mountain, valley, forest, lake or river to destroy. 

No, he was here to catch a glimpse of his little flame, hoping that Yavanna had sufficiently distracted their fellow Ainur with her vapid plans; though if he was honest with himself, a mere glimpse wouldn't suffice. Ever since Melkor had successfully managed to make his way into Mairon's dream and shape the scenery they had enjoyed together, he was restless, feeling an increasing need to be close to him. 

Knowing that he had not only caught the Maia's attention, but also found a kindred spirit in him made his desire burn hotter than it ever had before. No longer was it about acquiring a servant; it hadn't been for a while now, if he was honest with himself. Instead he was pursuing something he had once thought could only ever be a dream, something he had assumed Eru would forever deny him. A strange feeling he had never quite understood, though he knew it had always been slumbering within his fëa like embers in a fireplace, flaring up whenever something–or someone–ignited his passion. Melkor wished he could be around Mairon whenever he wanted, in the shadows of his forge, the fires in the oven, the metal in his hands. 

Yet for now he hid himself, hoping that his little flame might venture outside of Almaren so he could find him. He rested in the crowns of Yavanna's trees where leaves and branches would obscure whatever shadows his presence cast and surveyed the island and its surroundings with his sharp gaze. Maiar in various shapes were wandering around, tending to whatever tasks they were assigned, singing their songs and conversing with each other, birds and insects were fluttering around and other kelvar flitting through the thicket. 

Melkor waited until the light of the Lamps grew dim, his patience quickly wearing thin. He hadn't caught a glimpse of Mairon so far, not even a lock of fiery hair, and he began to sense that his precious wouldn't appear any time soon; in all likelihood, he was toiling away in Aulë's forge all day long. Perhaps it was prudent to return to Utumno and try again another day, yet the Dark Vala was loath to accept such an outcome. If he wished to see the one he held dear he would, and none of his brethren had any right to keep them apart. 

And so Melkor snuck inside Almaren as a formless shade, staying in the shadows to conceal the presence of his ëala. Most of the Ainur had returned to their dwelling places to rest for the night, and he reached Aulë's halls without anyone noticing that the Dark Vala was walking among them in secret. On his way to the entrance, however, he passed a cherry tree in full bloom, similar to the one he had imagined in his dream, and it came into his heart to bring another gift for his beloved to prove that their shared moment had indeed been real. Swiftly, Melkor broke off a couple of twigs that he deemed worthy and wove one around the others to fashion a bouquet of flowers, carrying it with him into Aulë's forges. 

The fires were dim, most of them reduced to smouldering embers after the Maiar tending them had returned to their chambers. Yet the rhythmic clanging of metal revealed that one of them remained, still immersed in his work, and Melkor felt his spirit lighting up as he sensed the presence of the one he was looking for. He found Mairon in his usual corner, hammering something in shape on his anvil. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration, a few stray curls that had escaped his braid danced around his face as he moved and his fána shimmered like molten gold in the firelight, sweat glistening on his skin. 

"There you are, my precious," Melkor called out to him before taking shape, hiding his gift behind his back to avoid spoiling the surprise. 

Mairon nearly dropped his hammer in surprise, then abandoned his work and approached the Vala with hesitant steps. 

"I... did not expect to see you today, my lord," he said, and it was obvious that he wasn't sure how to act or what to say, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks. 

Melkor smiled. It appeared as though Mairon remembered their shared dream just as well as he did. 

"I have a gift for you," he said, his voice resembling the low purr of a large, feline creature, and presented the cherry blossoms to his beloved. 

Mairon's eyes widened, and he knew he understood. 

"So it was..."

"It was indeed." 

Melkor watched as Mairon gingerly took the bouquet from his hand and held it close to his chest, a tiny, shy smile lighting up his features. 

"Thank you, my lord." 

He is beautiful like this. I wish to see him smile more often.

The Dark Vala regarded him for a moment. 

"You may use my name if you wish. I will not ask you to use such titles when I would rather have your love than your servitude." 

Mairon contemplated his words before nodding slowly. 

"In that case... thank you, Melkor. And–" 

His ears twitched suddenly as if he had heard something far off and his fána tensed. 

"Aulë calls for me," he whispered, and Melkor was pleased to notice that he hadn't referred to the other Vala as his lord.  

"I must..." 

His entire demeanour expressed reluctance, betraying his wish to stay with the Mighty One for a while longer. Melkor couldn't deny that the feeling was very much mutual, though he concealed any signs of displeasure, not wanting to upset the Maia any further. This part he would gladly leave to Aulë. 

"I know," he said simply and reached out to let his fingertips brush over the back of his hand and his forearm. "But worry not. I shall keep coming back to see you." 

Mairon's expression briefly softened with relief. He held the blossoms with both hands, nimble fingers clutching them protectively as if they were a promise he would hold on to during Melkor's absence. Yet suddenly something appeared to make him nervous again, muscles twitching and knuckles white, and he froze in the middle of turning around to look at the Vala. 

"Melkor, I..." 

Words appeared to elude him and he bit his bottom lip, cheeks flushing bright red like the embers in the fireplace behind him. 

"Yes, little flame?" 

A brief moment of silence ensued, molten gold eyes meeting frosty blue. 

"I... never mind, I will tell you another time," Mairon said and turned on his heels with one final glance over his shoulder, leaving his secret lover alone in the slowly darkening forge. 

Melkor shook his head in amusement. Adorable.

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Laughter and song filled the air as the Maiar of Almaren danced underneath Yavanna's trees, celebrating the bloom of her creations. They were eating, drinking and merrily braiding flowers in each other's hair, excited to explore the delights of their own fánar and the substances of Arda. Many exchanged gifts, flowers, fruits, jewellery and other trinkets, while some were spending time together in pairs to nurture bonds of love and friendship. 

The light of the Two Lamps filtered through the leaves, rays of gold and silver bathing the gardens in an almost ethereal glow, and petals were floating in the air, a gift from Vána to her sister. Birds of all shapes and sizes were chirping in the crowns of trees, happily joining the Maiar's songs. 

After delivering all the gifts he had made, Mairon had been keeping to himself and was currently bathing in the warm light of the Lamps. Long, flowing crimson robes covered his fána, decorated with golden embroidery and tiny jewels he had cut, polished and sewn onto it himself, daisies, red and white roses and daffodils were braided into his hair, as jewellery adorned his limbs, a golden shimmer surrounding him as if he himself was a work of art. 

A tiny smile graced Mairon's lips when he watched how the jewels sparkled in Illuin and Ormal's light. Many of them had been gifts from Melkor, and he had used them for his works in secret, afraid of being scolded by Aulë if their origins were ever discovered, yet refusing to hide them; it would be an insult to their beauty as well as the Dark Vala's efforts to acquire them for him. And no one had noticed so far, never asking where he found the jewels he so diligently sewed on his clothes and set in his jewellery, never questioning the cherry blossoms he had preserved in his room. 

There was one final gift left in his pocket, one Mairon had kept hidden from his lord and his peers. It was a golden bracelet in the shape of a snake, designed to look like it was twining around the wearer's arm, and he intended to give it to Melkor so he could finally return the favour and show his affection in kind. 

A bird flew over his head and Mairon's thoughts were interrupted when a soft, round object landed in his lap. Confused, he picked it up and quickly determined that it was an apple, though this one was neither red, nor green, but golden like the rings on his fingers. 

He knew instantly what it meant, and his heart skipped a beat. 

It took all of his self-control not to jump to his feet and hurry into the woods to seek out his beloved immediately. Mairon rose as calmly and with as much dignity as he could and headed towards the nearby forest as if he was merely taking a stroll, yet once his form disappeared from view, he picked up the skirt of his robe and hurried deeper into the shadows. 

It didn't take long until he sensed Melkor's presence, the Vala's fëa suddenly reaching for his as if he had appeared out of nowhere, and he saw him stepping out from behind a willow's long branches, reminiscent of their encounter in Yavanna’s garden. 

"There you are, my beautiful little flame," Melkor greeted him. There it was again, the unusually warm and soft tone of voice, the one Mairon had only heard him use when they were alone together. 

"Melkor," he whispered, his joy of seeing him and fear of being discovered fighting within him once again. "You came." 

"I thought this celebration of theirs should keep Aulë and Yavanna occupied for a while." 

Melkor closed the distance between them. 

"And I would like to ask the fairest and most admirable of the Maiar for a dance, if I may."

Mairon averted his gaze and shifted on his feet, a nervous blush appearing on his cheek. He still wasn't quite used to being courted so openly. 

"You may, and I would... very much like to dance with you." 

His fingers intertwined nervously as he folded his hands in front of himself before adding, "In fact, I had no intentions of entertaining any other partners today. I was waiting for you."

The smile on Melkor's face brightened, and it seemed as though the fire of his eyes alone  could outshine the inky darkness of his long black hair at this moment. 

"This pleases me greatly, I will admit. I would prefer to have you all to myself while I hold you in my arms and adore you as you deserve to be adored, my precious." 

Melkor was voicing his wants and desires so directly, so passionately, so shamelessly. It was sending waves of heat through Mairon's fána, and he expected to feel strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him close at any moment–yet the Vala remained still, looking at him as if he was waiting for permission to act on his words. 

And it was in this moment that any remaining fear and suspicion forever departed from the Maia's heart, for he knew Melkor had surely seen the same desires mirrored within his fëa, yet he held back to let him choose freely, like he had promised he would. He wouldn't ask of him what he wasn't ready or willing to give, and Mairon felt his love for him grow and blossom like a flower made of fire, kindled by the raw sincerity of Melkor's passion. 

"I am all yours," he whispered breathlessly, and he meant more than just their dance. 

Melkor reached out to place one hand on his hip, the other wandering up to cup his cheek.

"Shall we then?" 

"Wait." 

Mairon reached into his pocket. 

"I have a gift for you. To thank you for all you have given me." 

"Little things really, though I am glad to see they pleased you." 

Melkor's gaze wandered over his robes and jewellery, recognition flashing in his eyes as he spotted the gems he had given him, then rested on the bracelet presented to him. 

"You... you made something for me?"

The genuine surprise and awe in his expression made Mairon giggle. 

"Of course I did. Would you like to wear it?" 

Melkor held out his hand in response, gleefully watching as the golden snake slipped over his wrist and wrapped around his forearm like a lover holding on to him.  

"I have never received a gift before," he admitted after a moment of silence. "At least none I liked so much. Thank you, little flame." 

He moved his arm around to admire it from all angles. A perfect fit. 

"One day I shall give you greater things, everything your heart desires. Your own forge, your own dwelling, even your own kingdom if you wish." 

Mairon smiled, delighted by the Vala's reaction and the promises he made. Something told him that, despite the excessive grandeur of such claims, he would indeed receive these boons, and the thought pleased him. 

"Shall we dance then, beloved?" he asked, feeling emboldened by his successful gift, and offered his hand. 

"Of course." 

And the two Ainur spent hours dancing in the shadows of the trees, rays of light illuminating their fánar every once in a while. The singing of their peers was a mere whisper in the distance, and they moved to the rhythm of their own music, a nigh silent melody created by their fëar reaching out and brushing against each other in search of unity, causing the air around them to thrum with their shared song. To Mairon, it seemed as though the Ainulindalë paled in comparison, as it had never achieved such harmony like they did in this moment, and he felt like the potential contained within their minds and imagination was limitless, a sensation that sent waves of euphoria through his entire being. 

"I may not think too highly of flowers, but I must admit you look lovely like this," Melkor whispered in his ear, twirling the Maia around. 

In lieu of an answer, Mairon swiftly plucked a red rose from his braid and put it in the Vala's hair with a small laugh. 

"There. Now I can return the favour and tell you how pretty you are as well." 

Yet before he could, Melkor wrapped both arms around him, and their music reached a magnificent crescendo when their lips met in a tender embrace of ice and fire, searching, exploring, caressing until the world around them blurred and it felt as if they became one for a few blissful moments. 

"And while you are at it–why not tell me what you wanted to say last time we met?" Melkor teased once they parted. 

"The way you ask for it reveals that you already know... my love," Mairon replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he was pulled into another breathless kiss. 

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Pale blue eyes shone in the darkness, like flames captured within shards of ice, searching, roaming, admiring the sight in front of him. 

A soft golden glow emanated from the Maia as the shadows of his new master's bedchamber appeared to draw him into a loving embrace. He was resting on the huge, luxurious bed like a gem placed on top of a silk pillow for display, and his robes were pooling around him, undone by his own hands, revealing his bare fána underneath. His toes curled, and he trembled with excitement and anticipation as he felt the Vala's gaze upon him, felt the intensity of his desire heating up the air around them and weaving itself into the song of their fëar. 

"You are beautiful, my love," Melkor purred and moved closer until he knelt by his feet, reaching out to caress his naked leg with the tips of his fingers. 

"Perfect as if you were made for me..." 

"Yours," Mairon whispered, letting his legs fall apart to enjoy the Vala's touch. "All yours... Melkor, please..." 

Words eluded him in his state of blissful exhilaration, but he trusted his beloved to take care of him and guide him, to show him all the sweet and sinful pleasures he had promised him with heated kisses and whispered words during their secret meetings on Almaren.   

"Come here, little flame. Let me feel you." 

Melkor's black robes fell from his shoulders like wispy shadows, shamelessly revealing the beautiful, alluring shape it had previously concealed. His hair fell down his back and shoulders like a waterfall of night, his skin was pale like frost with a slight tint of grey, and it seemed as though his fána barely managed to contain the powerful fëa inside, Valarin power thrumming within his veins. Mairon was drawn to him as if by some kind of spell, and he eagerly closed the distance between them to be taken into his lover's waiting arms. 

It felt like being pulled into the heart of a storm, like sparks of lightning dancing on his skin as euphoria filled his entire being. The world around them was drowned out by Melkor's mighty presence, and strong hands traced every curve of the Maia's fána, exploring him to his heart's content. As if he was a piece of art, a precious gem. 

"I love you," Mairon whispered. 

The smile on Melkor's lips and the light in his eyes was so bright and brilliant, it seemed to him as though he was glimpsing the Imperishable Flame itself within his beloved. 

"And I love you as well, my precious."

Mairon wrapped his arms around the Vala's neck when Melkor kissed him, claiming his lips with feverish passion. Their fánar moved in unison and with ever increasing urgency, hands roaming, exploring, holding on to one another. It didn't take long until Mairon sank back onto the bed and pulled Melkor with him, a soft, indulgent sigh falling from his lips. 

He was a picture of sin, eyes half-lidded, messy locks spread out on black satin sheets, lips glistening wet in the dim light, legs spread for his lover; and to Melkor there was no greater treasure, nothing more beautiful in this world than his beloved Maia. 

"My little flame..." he whispered, completely and utterly enraptured. 

Mairon arched his back when the Vala's cool lips planted small kisses on his neck, and his breathless moans were music to his lover's ears. 

"My love..."

Melkor slowly moved lower and lower, covering the Maia's fána with countless kisses until he reached the inside of his thighs, legs parting for him willingly. 

"Mine."

"Yours," Mairon whispered, heat pooling in his core as he gazed upon Melkor's arousal, mirroring his own. 

It felt as though everything around them ceased to exist at that moment. There was nothing left except for them, two Ainur lost in a rush of pure bliss and passion, becoming one as their fánar intertwined. Moans and gasps of delight and satisfaction filled the bedchamber, creating an ever-changing melody. Their fëar reached for each other in kind, tendrils of radiant light, searing flame, starless night and glittering ice weaving together in glorious harmony. 

Mairon didn't know whether merely a few hours or an entire century passed while Melkor showed him the ways of pleasure. Head thrown back, eyes closed, his mouth fell open to release a blissful cry when his beloved moved inside him, making him feel all those wonderful, divine sensations he had never experienced before. Melkor's hand found his and they held onto each other as they reached their peak together, tumbling down from their high locked in each other's embrace, the first of many before they finally collapsed onto the bed, exhausted and content. 

Melkor lay down on his side, bringing their fánar together once more before pulling a blanket over the two of them to keep the fire spirit warm. 

"Would you like to rest now?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet, and nuzzled up against his beloved. 

"I can carry you back to your own room or you can sleep here, if you wish." 

"I want to stay with you," Mairon said, closing his eyes as he melted into Melkor's embrace. "And I want to wake up next to you, whenever that may be. I have been away from you for so long, I will not suffer another lonely night." 

"Tonight and for as long as Arda endures, little flame. I will always be with you." 

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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[amethysttribble]

And Our Sun’s Just Rising

@feanorianweek Entry 1: Maedhros (+ Celegorm) -  Adjusting/Coping

The House of Feanor is summering in Formenos. Two brothers are more upset about this than the others.

I’m doing ANOTHER theme, this year’s being ‘That Summer in Formenos That They Never Forgot’, but does that mean I have any idea where this is going? No! Did I know where this was going when I wrote this entry? No! Do I know if it’s coherent? No!

But you know what it is? Choke full of headcanons. Maedhros and Celegorm bond over having lives beyond their family and having to leave their lives behind for family.

Maitimo was whistling as he exited out of the servant’s door from the kitchen to the gardens, because he was an adult and he wasn’t sneaking out. He wasn’t, and he didn’t need to be quiet. Anyone could hear him!

These reassurances didn’t make him feel any less awkward as he closed the creaking door to his father’s palace in Formenos behind him.

Oh, Sweet Vana, he felt like he was only sixty years old, an age that was thankfully long, long past him. But being here in the far north with his family took Maitimo back to a time when only his grandfather called him Russandol. To the time when Mother and Father would take them all to Formenos and settle for a couple years, teaching students and rearing children and pretending they didn’t notice their two oldest sneaking out.

As Maitimo meandered through the rows of the estate’s vegetable garden- entirely separate from the fruit grove and the flower pasture, by Yavanna, he always forgot how sprawling nature was out here- he wondered if maybe he should have dragged Macalaure from his chamber to reminisce. But no. His brother had been taken by ‘inspiration’ on the journey north, the ‘stark beauty striking him like lightning’, and he’d been holed up and snappish at interruption since.

Most of Maitimo’s family was settling into Formenos happily for the summer. Little Curufinwe and the Ambarussa were in bed, as befitted still growing elflings, but Mother and Father were up. They were drinking wine in the courtyard garden, and he knew he was welcome to join them. Carnistir, as well, was up and busy, whiling away the darkest hours in the library. He was glad for the solitude, he said.

Like Macalaure, the sparse beauty of Formenos allowed him time and space to work.

But Maitimo was not working. Maitimo was wandering, and the good kind of wandering that widened and deepened the soul. No, rather since arriving in Formenos, he had found himself unable to sleep, or revel, or work, or do any of things that one might occupy the night or even the day with. 

He was bored.

Bored, bored, so terribly bored, and letters from his friends in Tirion- the first batch to arrive- and carefully penning his replies had not relieved him for long. Instead, hearing about what was happening in the city had made him more melancholy. Lord Aicanga had taken a new proposition to the council chamber apparently and Maitimo wanted to sink his teeth into it. Ontame said that the Ivory Hill Literary Society was reading one of Elemmire’s classics- The Boy Who Crossed Cuivienen- and she knew he had thoughts, she was sorry he was missing it, they missed him dearly already. Worst of all, Findekano had just returned to Tirion after a long stay in Tulkas’s abode, and they’d barely been able to spend a month in each other’s company when-

Think of your family, Maitimo tried to scold himself, but that did nothing to chase off the melancholy. He loved him family, and the littlest ones were getting bigger, faster- he’d missed almost all of Carnistir’s youth while setting himself up at court already- but he just… 

Maitimo’s wandering feet drew to a stop and he let out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. He’d made all the way across the field of tall grass to stand at the base of the ancient oak tree that their mother had built a swing on for them. Lonely and idle and restless, he took a seat on that swing, which was built for children and low to the ground, and it made his press comically high up towards his chest.

“This is stupid,” Maitimo muttered to himself. “I’m stupid.”

“You said it, not me.”

Maitimo shrieked as a head swung down from the leaves above to rest almost nose to nose with him. He flailed backwards out of the swing, and Tyelkormo’s raucous laughed hit the gentle night’s air. His long, silver tresses spilled almost to the ground.

“Turko!” Maitimo snapped from the ground, ass smarting. “What are you doing?”

“Same thing as you, I guess,” Tyelkormo said, torso swaying in the air, hands playing with the swing’s rope, as his knees held him securely to the branch above. “Feeling sorry for myself, making that the tree’s problem.”

Maitimo drew in a deep breath, let his aggravation out on a sigh, and stood up.

“I thought you were setting rabbit traps,” he said, brushing himself off with as much dignity as he could muster.

“I was,” Tyelkormo said, upside down and crossing his arms. “I felt like shit while doing it, so I stopped. Climbed up this tree and still felt like shit, but it seemed a better place to be miserable.”

“Are you miserable?” Maitimo asked, knee-jerk concern welling in his chest.

Tyelkormo very obviously rolled his eyes at him and then swung himself back into the tree, upright. “Just a bit of the nighttime sorries,” he said, and Maitimo could no longer see him, but he could hear the rustling of leaves and wood as Tyelkormo climbed higher. “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things on your mind.”

Maitimo really, really didn’t, so he reached up and pulled himself into the oak tree, as well.

Far more carefully than his strong, agile brother, he followed into the bowels of the tree, taking time as he went to run his hands over the bark and thank it. To say sorry for indelicate feet. To ask if there was anything this tree needed? A little bit of pruning, apparently, would be appreciated, and also for the elfings to come play tomorrow. That, Maitimo could arrange.

Whatever was vexing Tyelkormo would be harder to fix, but it was the most interesting problem presented to Maitimo in weeks, and so he was resolved. Unfortunately, whatever this issue was apparently wasn’t too bad, because Tyelkormo did not throw a knife at his head when he reached the highest branch and sat next to him. Instead, it was peaceful as their heads poked out through the leaves to observe the mountains and the valleys, the stars and the river, the distant city and the smattering of houses. 

“Beautiful,” Maitimo breathed out.

Tyelkormo hummed in agreement, drawing one of his knees up to his chest in a move that would make Maitimo very nervous to see, say, Carnistir or Curufinwe do. But this was Tyelkormo. This was his domain.

“I thought you would be nothing but pleased while here,” he said, smiling gently at his little brother. “Why, I remember the last time we summered here, you had some very choice words about me and Macalaure not having as much fun as you deemed we should be. Among other complaints.”

Tyelkormo snorted and said, “I was a brat. I’m surprised you didn’t abandon me in the woods.”

“I thought about it, but you would have been home in a matter of hours and I would have paid for it.”

Tyelkormo didn’t laugh as much as expected. Maitimo frowned, and considered him. He almost seemed to blend together in the light of Telperion, hair and skin and eyes a wash of silver. And yet, despite looking like a beacon in the night, Tyelkormo had snuck out more successfully than any of them. Rarely to drunken parties, though, unlike his brothers. Tyelkormo just wanted to sing with the night animals.

That, unlike the parties, used to drive their parents insane. They all remembered the tales of how little Ezellar Namindion- son of a local Formenos lord- had an accident and had been healing in the Halls of Mandos since. And Tyelkormo bore more than a passing resemblance to Miriel Therinde; Father worried about him a lot.

Which was part of why Tyelkormo had always loved desolate Formenos the most- with its lack of prying eyes- and had been fighting and straining for any slack on the parental leash for years. After he dropped out of the college of biology in Tirion… Maitimo had scarcely seen him at family functions in the decade since. 

Honestly, he’d suspected that this sudden trip to Tyelkormo’s favorite place on Arda had been an attempt to draw him back into the family fold, and he’d thought it had been working- Tyelkormo had been all smiles and laughters and newly acquired tricks of the hunt and the beasts- but perhaps…

“What’s wrong?” Maitimo asked seriously. 

Tyelkormo gave him a sideways look, gnawing on his lip. Then he pointed east.

“The Hunt of Orome is two-hundred and twenty seven miles that way,” he said. “If I took my gear, hopped on a horse, and left right now, I could be there in two, three weeks? Depends on how much I want my ass to hurt and how much I want the horse to hate me. But I could do it. I could go.”

Ah, Maitimo thought, feeling almost embarrassed. 

For a while, he picked at the leaves around him, smoothing his fingers over them. He considered his words. Maitimo’s first instinct was to soothe. To promise Tyelkormo that he would be back Orome and his hunt soon enough, that it was alright to miss them, but they would have fun as a family. But Tyelkormo was a grown and it felt silly and condescending to treat him as a child.

Treating him as an adult, his second instinct was to tell him to just get over it. The Hunt? He was growing melancholy over not being in the wilderness with Orome as opposed to being in the wilderness with his family? It was basically the same thing. Try being cut off from an ever changing court-life to wile away a few years in the sticks. The seasons changed, and animals repopulated the same way every year; buck up.

But that was cruel, and while Tyelkormo was the brother who could draw annoyance and cruelty out to Maitimo like no over- they were just so, so very different, and unlike Macalaure and Carnistir, Turko never backed down from a fight- this wasn’t the time or place. Maitimo had more control over his own emotions than to let how miserable he was influence how he treated his brother. 

His third instinct was to go, “It’s Findekano’s begetting day party tonight.”

He felt silly for saying such a thing as soon as it was out of his mouth, the plaintive whine obvious and obnoxious in his voice. Maitimo felt like he was sneaking out in some way, in his heart, because he was just so angry at being denied something he wanted by his parents, even though he’d agreed to this summer. But he wanted his life back suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” Tyelkormo said eventually, and it was obvious from his voice that he was as naturally unsympathetic to Maitimo’s plight as he was to his. But he was trying. 

“I helped plan it, and I’m not even there,” Maitimo complained. “All my friends are. Talking about what they’re going to be doing this week, this month, this year, and I’m here. And I like it here, I love our family, I just-”

He broke off with a ragged sigh, leaning his head back to look at the belt of stars above. They weren’t even the same stars that Tirion was seeing.

“I’m sorry,” Tyelkormo said again, this time his words sounded more real. “I- I just don’t want to be here, right now. It’s boar season, and I’m best with a spear so Lord Orome promised that I could lead the juniors. Not only that, I can’t even go through my prayers and rituals here without feeling Father’s eyes on me, even when Mother and I do them together. And I could feel, right before I left, how close I was to a breakthrough in reaching the divine Song. I’m going to lose months of progress being here and unable to meditate.”

“I’m sorry,” Maitimo said, and he meant it, even if he didn’t understand most of what Tyelkormo was saying about prayers and the song. He’d never understood the divine types, especially not his willful little brother, but-

Tyelkormo groaned and smashed his head against Maitimo’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to be here!” he cried.

“Neither do I,” Maitimo said. Then, louder, “Neither do I! We’re adults! I don’t want to be here so that we can pretend to be a happy little family.”

“We’re going to be at each other’s throats in two days!” Tyelkormo howled, throwing his head back.

“Father will be bored of us in one!”

“Curvo doesn’t even want to hang out with anyone but Father!”

“The Ambarussa are barely old enough to walk, they’ll be fine!”

“Everyone our age has either left Formenos or gotten married, it’s boring!” “The local council is always in agreement on everything, it’s mind-numbing!”

“I don’t want to be here!”

“Neither do I! A sharp wolf-whistled pierced the air. 

Maitimo and Tyelkormo were distracted from their complaining long enough to look down and see there Mother standing in the grass, a bottle in one hand, two empty glasses in the other.

“Are you two done?” she asked, and not even her scolding tone could disguise the laughter in her voice. “Do you want to keep whining and wake up the children or come drink wine with your father and I?”

Maitimo and Tyelkormo traded a look, and then started to scramble down the tree.

“Mama, I don’t want to be here, I was so close to advancing,” Tyelkormo whined as his feet hit the ground long before Maitimo’s.

He was still climbing down the tree as Mother handed him a glass of wine and said, “I know, baby, but these times together are important. I know this summer is an interruption. I know things will be missed. But your life will be there when you get back, and you’re going to remember these days fondly.”

“Promise?” Maitimo asked with a slight smile as he accepted an already filled glass form his mother.

She gave him a bright smile back.

“I promise, baby.”

Maitimo drank, then threw his arm around her shoulders. She still always looked so big from afar. 

“Very well,” he said. “But am I allowed to complain?”

“I don’t know,” Mother said cheekily, hooking her arm through Tyelkormo’s- who had left the other glass to Mother and was drinking from the bottle- “Am I allowed to complain about letting the series of sea Maia I was working on last summer gather dust until now? Can I complain about Ambarussa going so stir crazy in the city they broke into Arafinwe’s house? Can I complain about how your father has talked about his latest pet project at court so much my ears are about to fall off?”

“You’ve made your point,” Maitmo chuckled, but Tyelkormo said- far more loudly- “You’re allowed to complain, but Dad isn’t. I can’t take it, Mama, I can’t if he says one more word about Lord Orome, Valinor, and the intent of Eru-”

“Father’s two bottles of white in,” Mother said, “he’s as jolly as he’s been in months and liable to only be pleasant. He’s already cried once about how clever you’ve become and how much he’s missed seeing you grow.”

“Really?” Tyelkormo whispered, eyes massive.

Mother pointed towards the courtyard where their father lounged in the distance. Tyelkormo took his cue and bounded forward.

Maitimo laughed and took another sip of his wine. If Father was that drunk, he really would have to catch up.

Mother poked him in the side.

“You could have told us,” she said, reaching up to pluck a leaf from his hair, “if there was something important going on in Tirion. We would have understood if you came later.”

“It’s not that,” he told her softly. After all, if he played that game, he would have never come to Formenos. “It’s that… It’s strange, when family is politics and politics is family to come here and have us act completely divested from it. Our position is unique and important, and it feels like we just… ignore that, when we’re in Formenos. It’s disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting, or a gift?” Mother muttered, but she shook her head. “But I suppose you love both too much. I meant what I said. I know adjusting is hard after being knee deep in that bog that is Tirion, but give it some time. Family in and of itself is important, too. Breathing is important. Remembering why we don’t let the politics divide us.” Maitimo hummed in consideration and looked up at his brother and father. Tyelkormo was practically on top of him, as desperate for approval as ever.

“This is about them, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mother laughed, and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Oh Maitimo, my sweet Maitimo. Always seeing everyone clearly but yourself. Think about it. And drink more. There are some benefits to vacationing with your parents as adults.”

Maitimo drank deeply of his parent’s prized wine and he had to agree with that.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

I’ve been working on a series of short ficlets/drabbles for @tolkiengenweek on characters’ Returns from the Halls of Mandos; some silly, some serious. Most of them I haven’t finished yet, but here’s the first of them.

Fingolfin (Wonder)

“Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it…” ~ Fëanor

Fingolfin did not have a tranquil return to life.

He had only just opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet, blinking against the unaccustomed light - has just begun to register the sensation of air on his skin and the scents of the garden around him - when he was bowled off his feet by a sudden, vast blow.

“DUDE,” said a loud, boisterous voice far above him. “DUDE. That was AWESOME!”

Tulkas picked him up bodily and placed him on his feet again as Fingolfin struggled to catch his breath.

“That was AWESOME!” he repeated. “You kicked his ASS!”

“I did lose,” Fingolfin observed, a broad smile breaking across his face in spite of it. He’d recognized that his return to life meant the Valar had pardoned him, but he hadn’t expected them to be this…enthusiastic.

(Though to be fair, he’d only had a few Vala to draw conclusions from, and Námo had never been enthusiastic about anything in his life.)

And he had never regarded his death in exactly this light before, rather than as rash despair that had left the Noldor unmoored.

“You’re an elf! You should never have been able to scratch him! You wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t fucked himself up so badly, that’s why we thought you were all mad when you went away. But you hurt him! Badly! You scared him, the damn coward! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

That was an extremely enjoyable thought. A lifetime’s experience of attempting to avoid at least outward displays of ego, however strong inner pride grew, made him make one more attempt. “Lúthien won.”

“Lúthien! That was stupendous! Nessa adores her, she was crowing about it for weeks! ‘She beat him with dance, dance, dance!’ We’ve spent many years since bickering about which of you was more impressive. But Lúthien was nice about it. She didn’t stab him. I still like you best!”

Fingolfin could not stop himself from laughing, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t even want to.

“You beat him,” he said, “and I am very grateful for it! You clearly followed my fight closely enough! - would you care to give me a play-by-play of yours?”

“Oh, that,” said Tulkas. “He was terribly boring by the end. Very little to tell. Now, the rest of the war” - brightening again - “that was marvellous! I wish you’d been there! Your little brother, he’s a surprisingly talented commander, but he doesn’t know how to enjoy these things properly!”

He regaled Fingolfin with tales of the War of Wrath all the way back to Tirion.

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

'blinding dreams' for the made-up fic title game perhaps?

Ask game

Completely out of my wheelhouse and possibly not the best option but DARK FEANTURI AU.

Melkor still Sings discord into the song- it is impossible to conceive of an Arda never marred. But perhaps he listened and understood his creator just a bit more, perhaps Manwë got through to his brother, and this time Almaren is reshaped out of need for change- change Melkor is present to advocate for and embody, forgiven for his sincere remorse.

But Nienna has been mourning for the world since Melkor's song began. She is forgiveness and mercy and wishes none to suffer as she does at the long-repentant voice of Arda's Marrer. Irmo and Námo do not share her domain. Námo is the Judge, and there has been no sentence or reparation made by the one who Marred his sister and the world. Irmo sees no reason that he cannot help both prevail- mercy and justice for every victim, and nothing but judgement and sorrow for the source. They are wise, these siblings, cunning masters of spirits that they are, and with a prophet among them it is easy to plan.

(Vairë sees the Doom-maker, not Doom-sayer, and keeps her tapestries to her own halls. The past and the future will never be fully untangled, but history exists regardless if it is judged by those who come after. Estë sees no healing in Irmo's dreams, and while rest and wellbeing must still be connected, to be healthy is to be alive and aware, free in body and mind and soul. She finds a place with Nessa instead, with Tulkas never needing to fight their co-king.)

They hold, cold and steady. The Song is discordant, growing by the day. Perhaps Melkor works even now, a snake in the grass. Perhaps their kin are aiding, abetting him. They hold. They plan. They make their moves carefully.

When Míriel Therindë dies of something like despair within Lorien's sheltering arms, the time is come. It is only right- only merciful- only just- that no innocent should suffer again as she did. It is child's play for Irmo to slowly, slowly coax the weary, weak, and waning into his garden and into a perfect dream. Child's play for Nienna to slowly dull those who are too bright and sharp and hurting to be lured- if taking their joy is the cost of taking their pain, well, it is only a matter of time before they reach her brother and that cost is refunded in perfect excess. Child's play for Námo to determine the course they must take for justice, and to determine that the ends justify the means. He is Judge, Jury, and Executioner, and the world has escaped its sentence.

No innocents will die. Perhaps his siblings cannot take fëar as he can, but they can ease the mind enough to ignore the body, and if he calls to no spirits than any damage is trivial. His siblings will insure them paradise free of pain, free from the marring of incarnation. He will insure that everyone else gets their due.

(and then I don't know what happens except I think that teenage Fëanor and Nerdanel, tween Findis, and young Fingolfin are the ones to try to do something about it once Finwë and Indis are also caught in dreams as "victims of the marring")

[melkors-big-tits]

Another discord chat, this time about ABO (ask @cilil for the details, she started this) Valar and me being the Bottom Melkor enthusiast that I am I gave my two cents to the discussion:

Melkor trynna troll all the Ainur with his discord but gets hit Hard with the Omega stick XD

So hard in fact that he cannot even be near the other Ainur or he'll go into heat and after having few embarrassing close calls (like the fight with Tulkas that he had to flee from cuz that needy moan rudely escaped his lips) he's forced to lurk about without his Fana, cuz he's 100% more affected then.

But Melkor is still as curious as ever and to interact with things he has to use his Fana so he sneaks in when the other Ainur are gone then clads himself in Fana to snoop around or to create mischief.

Then one day when he's very engrossed with XXX he doesn't notice when a certain Maia comes back early from the party and after a millennia of not being close to another Ainur his heat hits HARD.

Mairon puts two and two together pretty fast and carries/flies Melkor off to his own secluded and secret little haven in Almaren (Mairon needs alone time from the idiots and all the smells) and in there he tries to leave Melkor so the Vala can recover until he's well enough to get home on his own, but when Melkor Presents himself to Mairon and he catches a whiff of the Valas scent (subtle, like fresh snow, no pungent and overtly sweet or flowery smell like the other omegas) Mairons Alpha nature tries to take hold of him (which has never happened before, all the other times he could brush it off with ease, but not now) but Mairon won't just let himself be turned into a mindless rutting beast so he fights it but it’s useless so in the end he summarizes that since Melkor is the Catalyst of the “dilemma" he’s found himself in then the best plan would be to get the Vala to calm down.

So Mairon ends up finger fucking a very sweetly moaning Melkor and in this pocket of heady eternity they let their songs play free and surprise surprise, it turns out that their songs are in perfect harmony with each other, so much so in fact that they start to fuse together, entwining and climbing ever higher like their desire which is close to peaking-- until Melkor suddenly (and to Mairons utter chagrin) rips himself off in a panic and flees to Utumno.

And after that the two can't stop thinking about each other, their songs always seeking their other half out, until Mairon decides to do the honorable thing and begins to seriously Court Melkor to the shock of everybody (they still don’t know that the omega in question is Melkor, just the thought of the rather stoic forge Maiar finding a mate and courting them is something nobody thought that they would ever witness)

Melkor isn't an easy partner to court (Mairon gets unwanted help from the other Maiar as well as from Valar), he accepts the gifts that get delivered to him by some disgustingly cute woodland critters (Mairon followed their song to the gates of Utumno but the doors stayed locked for him, nobody else knows these its the fortress of the dark Vala) but won't give Mairon anything in return, any heartfelt plea of seeing the Vala again is gruffly denied, the Valas heart isn't swayed by poetry dripping with treacle nor with songs comparing his beauty to that of Yavannas gardens in full bloom. Even the suggestive dreams that Irmo guaranteed would win Mairons sweet Omegas heart don't work. On the contrary Mairon puts a stop to that plan pretty quick when a violent ice storm threatens to engulf all of Arda.

Mairon stops taking everyone advice, he has a feeling that the Vala would actually like Knowing the person courting him more than receiving elaborate gifts from a stranger, so Mairon write Melkor a letter where he tells things about himself that even his fellow forge Maiar don't know and sends it via the small mechanical dragon that he build in secret.

This goes on for a while, Mairon sending letters where he lays himself bare to the Vala, not expecting for an answer.

Until one day when the dragon returns he gets a response, a drawing of Curumo exploding from jealousy (Mairon had mentioned that in his previous letter) and after that Melkor starts to send more responses, most often they are drawings, sometimes they're little things that he's found and wanted to share with Mairon and very rarely he sends letters, these Mairon cherishes the most.

At the end what wins Melkors heart is Mairon marching to the gates of Utumno, declaring his undying love to Melkor and revealing when the Valar are away from the cursed lamps and where their weakest spots are >:3 If anyone wants to write this (go on, I dare you) be my guest, just tag me when it's done so I can gush and cry happy tears cuz my fave murder husbands get the love that they DESERVE <3

[middleearthtolkienfantasyart]

"

"All flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming."

― The Silmarillion, "Valaquenta: Of the Valar"

Vána, one of the Valier, was the younger sister of Yavanna and the spouse of Oromë. Among the seven Valier, Vána was the sixth named

🌸🌸🌸🍃🍃🍃🌸🌸🌸🍃🍃🍃🌸🌸🌸

Like her sister, Vána had influence with the flora and fauna of Middle-earth, "all flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming."She had "the beauty of both heaven and earth upon her face and in all her works."

🌸🌸🌸🍃🍃🍃🌸🌸🌸🍃🍃🍃🌸🌸🌸

Nessa, the sister of Vána's spouse Oromë, wedded Tulkas on the Isle of Almaren, the Valar's first dwelling. Vána robed Nessa with her flowers for the wedding.

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Vána dwelt in gardens filled with golden flowers and often came to the forests of Oromë. In the days of the Two Trees of Valinor, the Maia maiden, Arien, "tended to the golden flowers of the gardens of Vána by watering them with the bright dews from Laurelin".Melian was another Maia who initially served Vána and Estë before she departed to Middle-earth

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Narsilion- the "Song of the Sun and Moon”

This poem was inspired by something I came across while reading up on the constellations for Arda. These verses describes the creation of the two trees, their destruction, the flower of Telperion and the fruit of Laurelin, their hallowing, the vessels that were created to house them, and goes up to their placement in the lower regions of Ilmen. 

This is based from the version in The Silmarillion, not the version in the Book of Lost Tales. 

Link: https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Narsilion

The poem is a bit long, but I hope you all enjoy it. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

First part: The creation of the trees, and their destruction 

Deep within the blessed realm High on the hill of Ezellohar The queen of the earth began to sing Clear and silver-sweet was her voice Sweeter still was what rose from the soil A sapling of silver and a sapling of gold Telperion and Laurelin are their names Silver and gold are their light

Their light scattered the darkness. Harkened all that was good and dear Many rejoiced in their glory But others saw no cause for cheer Melkor he was, and Ungoliant his aid He sought her help in the dead of night They hated and envied, plotted and planned And stole into the scared garden, cloaked in unlight

Spears of darkness felled the great trees Their light consumed by Ungoliant's greed

Second part: After the destrucion. Melkor and Ungoliant manage to escape

Great was that darkness That covered the blessed lands Great was the grief and terror That swept through the lands The light of Oiolossë stood alone Of that, lady Varda could see And lord Manwë perceived Their foes fleeing in a great deal of speed

The pursuit began, and Oromë saddled his great horse Riders went forth with him into the gathering dark Blinded, they were, scattered and dismayed Caught in the thick net of darkness They faltered and failed Tulkas beat the air, in anger and in vain For when the darkness finally lifted They saw it was already too late

Melkor was gone, and Ungoliant disappeared The darkness they had wrought was greatly feared

Third part: Nienna and Yavanna are set to the task to try and save the trees

The Valar set to the task of making things right Then Manwë counseled Yavanna and Nienna To put forth their powers and bring back the light They moved to the garden, to the felled trees Nienna watered the roots with her tears Yavanna sang songs that were sweet They toiled, and they toiled, and the trees would not heal For the darkness of their foes refused to yield

Hope was almost gone, and they almost gave up But the magic in their song and tears did not let up The trees began to glow, faintly at first Until new life began to burst forth A great blossom of silver, that was from Telperion A single fruit of gold, that was from Laurelin Yavana took them both, and the trees finally died Their lifeless stems a reminder of stolen joy

The trees were no more, but a remnant remained The gift of light once again reclaimed

Fourth part: The hallowing of the silver blossom and the golden fruit. Aulë creates vessels for them and Varda sets them in the heavens

Yavanna gathered herself and went forth to Manwë. He looked over the silver flower, inspected the golden fruit Pleased with this success, he invoked Eru The great creator sent forth his blessings Hallowing each object, for hope was renewed Light burst forth, radiant and bright And Aule was tasked to create vessels So that they could be set in the vast sky

Great was their labours, for the smith and his kin But in the end, the great vessels were completed Manwë invoked Eru and hallowed them again He gave them to his queen, for light was her domain Ithil, she claimed, would be the name of the flower To be guided by Tilion, an attendant of the Great Rider The fruit, she claimed, would be named Anar To be guided by Arien, an attendant of Vána

The sun and moon came to be, their courses were set And those who saw the new lights found hope existed yet

[dialux]

Ingalissë - Exalted, beloved daughter

5/6 Vanyar Queens, 10/? Women of the Elves

...

Ingwë and Ilwen’s only daughter, Ingalissë was the High Princess of the Elves and the Chief Priestess of Vána. She wedded Ráva, a hunter pledged to Tulkas, and bore three daughters, the second of whom, Elenwë, would wed the Noldor Prince and future Gondolin King Turgon.

Ingalissë was born in Cuiviénen, amid peace and joy. She was not yet a full adult when her father decided to leave for Aman, and she joined her parents on the Great Journey. On the path, she apprenticed to her aunt Intyalë in spear-dancing and her aunt Indis in gardening; she gained many admirers among the Valar for her grace, deft footwork, and skillful tending of the most delicate blossoms. But Ingalissë’s true passion was not in either dance or gardening; she preferred instead to dwell amid beauteous things, whether that was dance, music, or shining flowers. Such was her passion for them that she pledged her life to Vana, who Ingalissë believed to be the manifestation of all beauty with form in Arda.

Ingalissë met Ráva, a prodigious hunter who had been captured by Morgoth and rescued from Utumno by Intyalë, when he stood before the Valar and recounted the tortures and cruelties innumerable elves had suffered under Morgoth. Ráva’s passion and unflinching determination to see justice done precipitated the Valar’s War of the Powers against Morgoth, and promised an end to the dark days that many of Ingalissë’s kin, including her aunt Indis and her grandmother Taqualmë, had suffered. Intrigued, Ingalissë spoke to Ráva, and very quickly grew close to him; it was not uncommon to find Ráva and Ingalissë walking together every dawn until well past noon, speaking of anything that caught their attention.

When questioned about her intentions, Ingalissë defended her admiration of Ráva sharply, proclaiming her “long understanding that beauty is not always that which can be captured by the bare eye, but found in the deep thrummings of one’s heart.” So vociferous was Ingalissë’s defense that she wedded Ráva that very night, and bore him a daughter they named Alalmë for the elm trees she had been conceived beneath.

After arriving in Valinor, Ingalissë disliked settling in Tirion for its distance from Taniquetil and the Valar. She was among the first elves to settle in what would eventually become Valmar, and there she had two more daughters with Ráva they named Elenwë and Sánë respectively. Of their three children, Alalmë wedded a Telerin shipmaster named Nówë (later Círdan) and was thus sundered from her parents until the Fourth Age, when she and her husband would finally sail across the Belegaer; Elenwë was a renowned dancer and wedded a Noldor prince named Turgon, perishing in an untimely death upon the Helcaraxë during the Flight of the Noldor; and Sánë was a prodigious general during the War of Wrath, following which she immediately wedded a human woman and settled in Lindon until her wife’s passing.

Ingalissë herself was known for her modernization of worshipping practices among the elves after her appointment as Chief Priestess of Vána. Her dances and gardening were among the most valued and most common methods used to worship the Valar. She also took her duty as High Princess very seriously, and worked to reconcile the Noldor and Valar following the First Kinslaying alongside many of her daughter Elenwë’s family.

[apihtawtoussaint]

The History of Arda (Very serious)

Part 2 (nisô)

So, where we left off, a bunch of the Ainur went off with their sheet music and blueprints to create Arda.

Being whispy divine things, they didn't inherently have physical forms. But they'd make some for the looks, for the drama. They would also vibe out a gender, and I've decided to interpret that far more progressively than I imagine Tolkien meant it.

Now we have to take a second to do the Deuteronomy thing and list everyone.

Of the Ainur, the big guys were called the Valar and the teeny ones were the Maiar. The 8 government workers of the Valar were called the Aratar. They were the Named Characters. Also, angels, spirits, Abrahamic theology, whatever. If it looks like a pantheon and sounds like a pantheon, it might just be a pantheon.

The Aratar were: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna, Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë. But there were a few others that were also important enough for names.

Manwë Sulimo was the Zeus guy, sky god. The Eagles were his servants; they may or may not have been Maiar depending on when you asked Tolkien. Eru Ilùvatar just gave him the job of main bitch. Melkor was his brother, but they weren't close. He was married to Varda. Because sky. That'll make sense soon.

Aulë, man, he was the best of them, he had a hand in the worst of them.

Pros: created the Dwarves!!

God of earth and smithing and such.

Has an odd amount of influence over beards.

Cons: Both Sauron and Saruman started as his Maiar.

He was the patron of the Noldor Elves. Which sort of led to Feänor creating the silmarils.

He married Yavanna, because dirt.

Ulmo was unbothered by the nonsense the others had going on. In his lane, moisturized. He was god of water, oceans, rains, puddles, etc. He likes to just chill in the ocean, mostly. He doesn't even put on a physical form mostly. Comfy guy.

Elven sea longing does come from the sound of his horn, though. So just, like, let him be.

Oromë was the Athena coded one. Big hunter man, super into horses. He had this sick ass horse called Nahar, who was Shadowfax's grandpapa.

Nessa was his sister, and Vána his wife. I don't have a good quip about that; it's just true.

Mandos, which is actually his nickname his government name is Námo, was god of the dead and the doomsman. Not so much in that he doomed men, but he just had prophecies (fate=doom) and was ride or die for his aesthetic.

Technically, Mandos is the name of his halls, where the dead people live.

He is in a fun little goth sibling trifecta with Lórien and Nienna, and married to Vairë. Because fiber arts.

Lórien, similar to his brother was name of his lands but people called him that. But his legal name was Irmo, so I understand not going with that. Dream! He's the dream guy. His gardens double as a wellness retreat and longterm care center that he runs with his wife, Estë.

Tulkas, late to the party, was not among the OGs. He didn't show up until 1,500 Valian years (~14,373 solar years) after the creation of Arda. He heard that there was some fighting going down and he just had to get in on that shit. And then he married Nessa.

Varda Elentári, the most revered by the Elves. She's into stars, and more broadly light and light sources. She would have made an excellent lighting designer for theatre.

What's she done? Well, only all the stars, the Lamps, and the Sun and Moon! (Not in that order) She was super hot and had mad beef with Melkor even before they started the whole universe creation project.

Yavanna Kementári, the queen of the earth! Gardener, botanist, plants rights activist. She also led to the creation of the Ents when she complained to Eru Ilùvatar that all the other sentient things liked to chop down trees. And if Aulë gets his fucking Dwarves, she should get at least something.

She also did the Two Trees, of course.

Nienna, grief, despair, crying all the time. She also does therapy work at her brother's halls for the dead elves waiting to get reimbodied. Very important work, a lot of them were killed in not fun ways. Or too fun ways.

Estë, the lady of rest, potentially nocturnal as she apparently spent most days napping in her husband's gardens. But when she's up, she's a doctor, she's a psychiatrist, she was really the main source of healthcare in Aman.

Vairë, the weaver, fiber artist extraordinaire. She liked to make these cool tapestries of pretty much everything that ever had happened. Which is a lot of things. She would decorate the Halls of Mandos with them, so I imagine they were very cozy.

Vána! Vána was sure there... look, in earlier drafts she was way more important but that didn't survive until publishing. So, she liked flowers and was youthful. That's Vána.

Nessa, damn, it's even worse that Vána. What do we know about Nessa? She could run fast and was a good dancer. I like to imagine that she and Vána had lots of intense adventures we just don't know about.

Of course, Melkor also travelled with the squad to Arda but he was very unhelpful. In the early days be would be like a big volcano mountain guy and destroy everything the others tried to build. And he'd seduce their Maiar away and make them into Balrogs!

Early Arda was a series of wars between him and the other Valar until Tulkas came down to throw hands, to make some shapes.

Here's a summary:

And those are the Valar! Yay!

Next, we go into a few Maiar, and getting into the Spring of Arda. Get ready for some big ass lamps!!

Part 1

[blankdblank]

It’s a Mother Flocking Puffin Pt 21

Barefoot in a heavily embellished fluffy layer crazy skirted gown, with a lace full length sleeved top, sheer save for the corseted bodice layered with embroidered flowers and vines all across it you stood in the center of what could only be a lake. Deeply you sighed lifting a surprisingly injury free hand to brush back the bangs blowing into your face on the breeze to the shift of toes on the lone rock you had landed on. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, as if your life couldn’t get more awkward in this tropical sort of paradise you kept zapping yourself off to when times got tough quite randomly somewhere you would find a new friend. Usually absurdly tall Elves or other massive animals who guided you on small adventures or train you to whatever craft they were practicing that you had stumbled across.

But the lake was new. The ocean you had dropped into but not this lake, in fact narrowing your eyes in another scan of the land around you those geode formed trees weren’t familiar either. Even the ground seemed to give off a golden sort of glimmering dust blowing around the shoreline looking far too course to be taken as sand. “Hmm,” the scent of mead and a feast was what forced you to turn fully around on that little island finding a cliff wall just covered in stone statues and runes you couldn’t place alongside weapons and the faces of beasts from one end to the other as best you could manage against its curve and break behind more of those geode formed trees.

Sharply you inhaled and said, “Fingers crossed there’s no pelicans this time.” Foot extending for ice to gather underneath for the start of the stepping stone bridge to the cliff wall.

Half a mile to shore the shadow of the wall fell over you for a stunning chill free path in this pleasantly warm mystery island you found. Even in the shadow the way ahead was clear thanks to the glimmering trails cast by fireflies floating off the tall grass your feet brushed through with flight paths in spirals around your gently glowing self. The heads of the figures carved into the cliffs grew white fluffy brows in the drop of the nearest clouds thanks to the growing breeze shifting directions that wanted away to where Manwe deemed them destined. The drift of musical notes lured your eyes downwards in a wonder to where it was coming from.

Off to your right however the sudden plop of a boulder into the lake had you lifting your skirts allowing the lick of water to spill over your bare feet then recede again to the roll of the new addition towards the shore. Hunched and dull in its split apart an elderly Dwarf began to straighten up on its feet again. The more it did backwards the clock turned with youth seeped into each crack and crevice until alive again the limber younger form of the Dwarf smiled to itself on its eager steps ahead following the same sent their bulbous curled mustache framed nose had caught a whiff of.

Three more stones fell under and rose up to the surface of the same mirror like lake while you hurried a couple steps around a waking badger in its den you were passing hoping not to scare it. Curiously at the sight of you it began to follow along right with the clicking Ravens and Crows above on tiny ledges in the wall hopping forward as you did to keep you in view. Between the legs of one of the figures what appeared to be a wall wasn’t and timidly you walked onward still following the Dwarf now smiling at discovering the hidden doorway that with a hand out you noticed was an illusion hidden archway using the wall behind a narrow entrance hall to complete said disguise. To the right it branches and wound a half turn back jaggedly to open into an endless mountain city. Layers upon layers of floors with fires and joyous Dwarves were to be seen.

“Ahem,” behind your back a burly Dwarf look you over at your prompt glance back.

“Sorry,” you replied with a quick step aside into the hall along the wall. The Khuzdul you spoke however had his eyes fixed on you through your quick flash of a grin. “Taking it all in.”

Stepping inwards he kept his eyes on you allowing the two behind him through to trot ahead in search of someone of something they clearly were expecting. “Hmm, could have sworn I knew you.” His head bowed and curtly he turned and strode past you with grin returning headed to who knows where.

Head tilted slightly again your eyes rose and fell admiring each carved pillar and statue coating the sections of floors with colored glass shifting shades in each of the brave steps you took forward. Once past the first landing down three broad steps you almost had to hop to reach the next in a somewhat graceful way without hiking your skirts all the way up thanks to your little legs the Dwarves behind you took with some irritating sense of ease even in their own heavily layered skirts. A soft breath left your lungs on the edge of a grand ballroom packed with those dancing, feasting and drinking encircled by those sharing grand tales and raucous jokes.

Didn’t take long however for eyes to shift your way in return and off in a distant corner a shoulder was tapped to nod one of the burliest to come and inspect the newcomer. One low hanging decoration turned you around to the wall to get a better look on its gradual spin around the tile you had stepped onto. With a gasp however when you turned back a familiar pair of blue eyes had fallen upon you.

“Durin, you’re, I know you’re him.”

Gruffly he replied in Khuzdul also stunned at you’re knowing his mother tongue. “You seem awfully certain of that.”

That had you giggle and step off of the tile to avoid the decoration passing between you smiling up at him, “No I know you I’ve seen your face on portraits and statues all through the Palace in Erebor and even one in the Iron Hills.”

Ever so slightly his eyes narrowed causing his dark brow to furrow in the process, “I do not know of this Erebor you speak, and these Hills,”

“Well, I’m not fairly certain the exact dates, but your clan moved from the Grey Mountains to a new Kingdom named Erebor, it’s near the Greater Greenwood.” He shook his head, “It’s just past the Misty Mountains kind of North to Rohan and Gondor, if you sort of curve,” you said with a curve of your hand after points on some imaginary map between you involuntarily making the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “Look, I’m not an expert on schematics of where you have dwelled, but your family rule over Erebor, Dale, a sub city of Erebor, and Moria as well as the Blue Mountains, and King Nain rules over the Iron Hills so I think that means he’s either one of your relatives or married into your clan. So I think that counts too.”

“You said Nain?” You nodded and he turned, “Gorpumbden!” (‘Gather my whiskers!’) “Fetch Rtain! The little Lass knows his grandson!”

Outwardly he was smiling now and asked in the rush of one group of Dwarves rushing off to fetch the Dwarf while his hand motioned to guide you onwards back to his own private table with his wives from his lifetimes and their children and all the generations of grandchildren milking about nearby with their own broods. “Tell me, who else do you know from my line, Little Lass?”

“Oh, well, I’ve met nearly everyone in Erebor, well you see, it’s sort of,” you sighed and he glanced over your confused pouting moment luring grins on the faces of others you passed through across the dance floor matching his timed steps to do so with ease between bounding couples. “Ok, I’ll start here, I met my One, Thorin II, son of Thrain and grandson to King Thror. I’m not certain how far down your line they are, and well we weren’t married at first. But then we met and I sort of bumped into him and I thought I’d have a heart song but I never heard one but it turned out these freckles on my back were a Mate Mark,” you said lifting your wrist to show off the bracelet spreading his smile admiring the craftsmanship. “And he’s been so kind to me, whole clan has really, I had some trouble with my adopted clan but then he helped with that too.”

You had reached the table and he faced you asking, “And just how far has young Thorin II reached in his courting of you, Little Miss?”

“Oh we had to elope, so technically we’re married but we’ve picked a cottage and are designing rings and I made him some love spoons.”

Adoringly his hand reached out to cradle your lifted hand inspecting your wedding band, “How precious. I do not know the pain he must suffer at your place here. Though as part of my clan you are amply welcome to wait for him amongst us.”

Rtain arrived beaming and eager to hear more about his son and grandson that you had met through the service only stirring up more confusion for how a clearly non-Dwarf had made it to the Halls of Mahal. A familiar passing Dam had your mouth drop and you said, “Celeste!” Draped in yards of velvet in fuchsia over her pastel pink gown she had been painted in, her hazel eyes scanned over your waving and smiling self, “Oh don’t you look lovely. That is a fitting color on you. Really compliments your mustache.”

Three confused steps later and she reached your table while the males behind you grinned at your bubbly self just blooming in this social circle of their clan and others you had known from portraits in passing. “Forgive me, but I do not seem to be able to place your name.”

“Oh, you don’t know me, Jaqiearae Pear,” you said extending your hand with the name making a Dam dancing stumble and straighten to look you over having recognized the name. She accepted the handshake and you added, “I married into your clan, I’m designing my ring after yours. Hope you don’t mind it is stunning.”

Widely she smiled and accepted a spot beside you to talk about the ring now a ghostly glimmering copy on her finger of the one back in the vault back at the Palace. After the discussion of band changes and her blessing was given she asked in an almost pained tone, “How did you find yourself here?”

“Well, that’s a bit of a winded answer, but, Melkor hated my clans and sent others by some oath after he was killed to attack them. My parents went into hiding but they found them anyways and killed them.” Beards bristled and fists clenched the more you shared, “And I was adopted by a Noldo in Numenor. Then I got accepted to University in Dale where I met Thorin’s nephews Fili and Kili my roommates. They took me along for a break to the Palace where I met the rest of your clan there and bonded with Thorin. Since then they’d helped me to find my birth family. Then this morning the followers of Melkor remaining brought a Fire Drake to the school. And last I remember Thorin just got back to the Palace and was eating while I spoke to Fili and Kili through tea, then I was in the lake. And I heard all of you.”

After a solemn moment from them you asked, “Your clan has faced coups for centuries, a lot of people got hurt and could have died when they were after me, how am I supposed to live with that weight?”

Hands were laid on you and several shared words of wisdom on their own experiences with acceptance of that same weight until Durin asked, “The Beast was brought down?”

You nodded, “I shot him with a wind lance,” rippling proud smiles your way.

“Mahal’s Beard! Very good!” More than one of the clan exclaimed.

“Didn’t take very long, though everyone was scared and Bagheera especially was upset.”

That had his beard puffing up and him smiling widely, “You saw my Bagheera?”

“Yes, he’s back at the Palace. Probably won’t be glad for me to miss a meal. Sometimes it takes days for me to get back from these islands.” Lips parted in confusion for what you meant, “Though this is a first time here and I wasn’t expecting all of you. Not that I don’t-,”

“There you are Little One,” beaming through the crowd that barely reached his hip Tulkas strolled through the dancers with hand outstretched for yours, “I presumed you would meet me by the wading pools, but Manwe’s companions took notice of your waking here.”

“Oh, I have to go,” you said laying your hand on the outstretched one from Tulkas and said to Durin and the others, “It was so amazing meeting you. Perhaps I can wander back here again sometime.” To Durin especially you said, “I’ll give Bagheera some fruit for you. I know he misses you terribly.”

Speechless they watched while Tulkas faded to mist and in a small snow flurry you were gone leaving the Dwarves more confused than ever. A state that had the First Born on his feet in a curious search for Mahal in his wife’s gardens to ask about the curious visitor.

.

*

Hand over his mouth Fili woke to Kili’s tug on his mustache and in a turn of his head he knew why he was woken. Across your skin faintly glimmering clan lines mapped out the stretch of your bloodline to the Eldar on your already glowing skin. And sweet and low Khuzdul eased from your lips in half hearted sighs echoing of your deep deep wandering dream none but you could shake yourself from. Taps on Thorin’s nose had his soft snores halting and eyes patting in time to hear your next murmur of, “Durin.” Wide eyed he sat up joining the boys, the younger of whom was already recording your side of the conversation that ebbed in and out only giving part of your side of it confusing them all the more why you were dreaming of talking to their clan father.

Through the door the Emperor peered having heard your voice and from there in his step into view he said, “I see My Yuula is speaking with her friend Meldamalta again.”

Thorin asked, “This is common? For her to speak in her sleep?”

At that the Emperor grinned to himself replying, “That is no ordinary sleep. My Yuula has taken Olórë Mallë, and her fea is within Valinor.”

Fili’s mouth dropped open, “Her soul-!!”

Kili clasped his hands over his brother’s mouth looking to you undisturbed still deep in sleep and the Emperor stated in his move closer, “She cannot hear you, when she was a child I realized as a Vanyar her path to Valinor is much easier than other Elven races might find it. The pathway is a mental one that through the link in her mind her fea may travel there at its whims. When she was younger she was often gone for days at a time, and always after times of troubling circumstances. The Valar will not allow harm to find her there it is quite safe.”

Thorin wet his lips and asked, “She is speaking to Durin though. Not any Meldamalta.”

The Emperor’s lips pursed, “Hmm, perhaps due to your marriage she is allowed there. Often she finds herself in different areas of the Valar’s control, Meldamalta will find her.”

Kili, “Who is Meldamalta?”

The Emperor answered quite matter of factly, “Tulkas.” Dropping their jaws, “Upon her first visit there My Yuula informed me she met a kind giant being with golden hair she couldn’t understand who allowed her to braid a crown of Marigolds into his hair and call him Meldamalta. He is quite fond of her, and his son enjoys their times in Nessa’s gardens.”

Fili, “You’re telling me Jaqi is friends with the Valar Tulkas?”

The Emperor answered, “He loves children and has watched her grow. They all have.”

Kili, “She would have told us! I would have told her if I knew Mahal!”

Thorin asked, “She only knows him by Meldamalta?”

“Correct,” was his answer.

Fili chortled, “You have to be joking! How could she not know! You know!”

The Emperor simply pointed and on the headboard where they hadn’t noticed Bagheera was seated puffed up with golden eyes glowing. “Each trip once she had woken once I had recognized the gardens and lands she had explored and faces of those guiding her and teaching her skills in each try to share where she had been he would stop me. She is not ready to know yet it would seem. Though in my teaching her Valinorian he has calmed to my learning of her travels at least and the times have lessened in her being able to converse with them. They grant her council where my expertise is limited.”

Kili, “Why don’t you go with her?”

“Noldo are forbidden re-entrance to Valinor since the departure from those shores without Valar permission. I grew up in those lands and as a child my parents brought me here. Though I have never witnessed the Halls of Mahal myself, in fact I cannot name an Elf ever noted to have traveled there. It must be due to your union.”

“Celeste,” the name turned their heads and Thorin smiled guessing as the others had why you would speak to her, namely the ring you would share stirring up questions if you would mention them as well to their ancestors.

Fili mused, “Great Gran will be so pleased she went to the Halls of Mahal to wedding plan.”

The Emperor said, “You can rest she will share her adventures upon her return.”

Kili, “So she just knows she has long dreams?”

“No, it is very much a physical journey for her. Several times she has stated she simply wakes up in odd locations in beautiful gowns.”

“Meldamalta,” you sighed out and they blinked curious to know should they arrive in those hallowed halls which Valar they might come to know themselves.

The Emperor chuckled and stated, “You should get some more rest been a long day and she won’t be screaming.” He said to the steady sighed Valinorean wafting out of you like a sweet hummed lullaby that took the trouble out of their drift back to sleep, right away they felt the physical urge to lay back down cuddled around you eased off to their own dreams again. Leaving just the Emperor eyeing Bagheera who he asked softly, “She is growing stronger?”

The owl fluffed up and let out a low chirp in an affirmative response as he usually did for the adoptive father’s question he had repeated through the years in wait while the Valar bolstered your hope and strength. And while he was mostly correct in his assumptions the owl was not keeping him from telling you the name of the beings you had been conversing with but trying to tell him that you already knew deep down just not believing it to be really true. Fear was what he was protecting you from, any fear or possible shame taken in any slight imagined and that path could be lost to you forever without the knowledge of how you were actually sending yourself there.

Though an adult on technicality you were very much a child and far from knowledgeable on deeper things you had not been taught by the elders of your clans as you should have had Melkor not struck his deadly blow. A child with strength you didn’t understand to master without their help all these years with just among the remaining lessons to share how you were waking in those sacred lands. They did miss you when you were away, but the time in between showed such heart warming strength brewing inside you, this time all the more in having arrived in, for all your other kin, an impossible place. But Tulkas had you now and he was assured the master dueler of the Valar would enjoy the story and send you on your way home back to him again. Hoping to himself that even in his exile they might not think too harshly of him now that he’d grown from the boy they once knew.

 *

Smiling widely in the gardens with your friends you sat talking while seated on a blanket for the picnic readied for you while the smiling Valar listened to the whole detailed story on the Drake luring the Elves serving under the cuddling couple across from you to come and listen. Loudly Tulkas laughed with pride for his youngest pupil while Nessa beamed at the clear passing of her swiftness lessons beyond just words that you had picked up in training on your own. His bravery and feats of strength and her agility and speed having aided in your success amongst lessons with Ulmo for the obvious control of water. The others far less obvious in their lessons, granting aid more in tasks and mini adventures during your stays in Valinor, rather hoped to present a chance to find those traits within yourself.

Although a few of their pupils, including one from Aule had aided greatly in the growth of your wood working craftiness, Celebrimbor in a new form had found himself in your path and in those bright eyes of yours found a kindred soul he wished to help and took to teaching you the basics. Among those pupils was Ecthelion of the Fountains, here again relaxed listening to your tale smiling with the others flute beside him in its carrying pouch that he had used to help teach you on the instrument between two more of your music instructors self assigned to ensure some time with spectacular you. No shortage of pupils had prided themselves on passing on what they had learned and a bit more on discoveries of their own to maybe aid you one day.

Off beyond a row of hedges through a disguising stream of water off a fountain a couple stood staring longingly at their child back here again, Jewels cuddled against her husband Lindo’s chest, both smiling faintly that their baby girl was growing so much stronger by the day. Even more so having brought them justice by searching out their attackers, whom Mandos was now taking personal attention to doling out Manwe’s orders for their atonement.

Both parents formerly in their unrest unable to travel here themselves since the date Mahal aided in their resting memorial in Erebor, now had a sort of physical form here in these lands to aid in their coming to terms with their own grief for all they, their clans and you had lost. They adored being close to you for so long however without a proper resting memorial from you they could not have visited you here until now, and even still they were fearful of approaching not to keep their precious girl from returning to her new life, the one you had fought so hard to build and defend.

Behind them however Este crept closer and hushedly began to speak with the pair sharing what they had missed through your trips here. “You will be strong enough to meet again one day, the three of you, you will,” she spoke softly warming their hearts as they nestled closer watching a bright smile split across your face laughing along with Tulkas and Nessa to a joke from their son.

.

Hours you had lingered and the same telling creep of bluebell vines towards your hand set aside gave you the same gut clench feeling that it was time to go. The look always was evident on your face and smiling still the crowd bid you safe travels. Up you stood with another ring of marigolds in hand you eased onto the glowing golden ringlets Tulkas had tied back from his face with ribbons from his beloved wife. In releasing the crown your fingers curled back in a slow recoil of your hovering hands recalling the first crown you had given him and the meeting of all the larger beings here you had once been unable to understand at all. His eyes lingered on your face with smile still in place through his thanks knowing things were clicking into place on who he was.

And softly you asked, “Are you really Tulkas?” Deeper his smile set in sinking more into his eyes at the bubbling courage in your gaze in asking, “Can I still call you Meldamalta?”

Tenderly his hands rose to cradle yours, “I have been and always will cherish being your Meldamalta.”

On his side Nessa eyed the still creeping bluebells reaching for your legs in your spring forward to loop your arms around his neck, eyes clenched in a tight embrace stirring a deep chuckle to his arms laying across your back, “Thank you for finding me.”

“Ooh now, Little One, you were the one to find me.” His words accented with a brush of fingers against your cheek in your step back brushing away the invisible trail of the tear threatening to fall from the corner of your eye holding it in place somehow.

Nessa smiled adding in her own taking of your hand, “The most welcome snow flurry in our lands, most precious Little One. Your bluebells are calling you to wake.”

Looking down you asked, “How do I keep arriving here?”

She smiled saying, “We have yet to travel that road, only Irmo would know.”

And up you looked finding Manwe approaching to the winding of a vine of bluebells around the layers of skirts folding in around your legs the more they climbed, “Fly safe, brave little Nique-Puifíní. And pray do inform Winge we have greatly missed his company here, his parents might have chosen to sail from these shores, an innocent to their oath, and welcome to return upon finding that doorway of dreams.” Like sinking into a well his voice began to muffle and echo in your ears to the clench of your eyes while from the feet up back into your flurry you shifted. Vana smiled in her stroll through the garden again in another try to find how you were entering these lands exactly to solve the sort of game Irmo had made in keeping the secret of how you arrived here each time.

.

To the opening of the door by a Butler entering to feed your fire at your side against Thorin’s side from your straight upwards position into him you leaned resting your head against his forehead. The sharp pain in your ribs stopped your wiggle into his side and when your ribs throbbed again a crack of your eyelid not being touched by a strip of his brushed up hair and softly you grumbled which drew a stirring breath from Thorin releasing his own grumble. Off behind his back however the Emperor whispered in a reach over him with dropper in hand containing medicine to help with the pain you were facing, “To ease your pain.” Groggily you parted your lips and with three drops on your tongue he drew back the dropper to add back to its bottle with a kind grin.

After wetting your lips you said, “I know Meldamalta’s real name now, remembered it.” Easing out his smile, “I was asked, Manwe says they miss you,” parting his lips, “Said you are always welcome back when you find the doorway, your parents swore the oath not you.”

Tearily he smiled again, “Thank you for telling me that. How are you feeling?”

“My head itches,”

“Bunnanunê,” Thorin rumbled through a deep inhale beginning to shift to prop himself up pressing a gentle kiss to your mildly bruised cheek between the scrapes there. “You are awake.”

“Just the one night?” You asked and he smiled.

“Just the one, are you in pain?”

“Not so much pain that I have to wash my hair.” Thorin nodded and with the stirring of the boys the bench brought earlier was moved to the side of the tub in a painful shrug he removed the sling hindering his ability to tend to you fully and scooped you up gingerly carrying you to the bath to lay you down on the bench. With care Fili held your neck while Kili turned on the water as Thorin undid your braid to the Emperor easing the bowl of healing oils and creams over with sleeves rolled up and comb in hand to begin recoating those cuts and scrapes aiding in some of the discomfort right away.

From the bottom to top the water was run stopping two inches from your scalp with Thorin tenderly lathering your shampoo lovingly into each curl watching the bloody grimy suds flowing down soon washed away revealing those awe striking curls. Without so much as a tug he wrung out the water he could and with Fili holding the blow dryer, certain to keep aimed away from your scalp that Kili held a hand towel against to act as buffer for the spare heat while the Emperor held you upright. Once dry your courting braid was added again with ribbon and bell intact to match the gentle tug free braid Thorin settled into your hair to keep it in place.

“Thank you,” you whispered in Thorin’s move to settle into your view again smiling at your relieved grin.

Kili however blurted out, “Weird dreams? You talk in your sleep.”

Fili smiled bursting with questions of his own to your weak chuckle, Thorin however scooped you in his arms again saying, “Back to bed, you can share there cozy in bed.”

Around you the group nestled you back in your former place with towel removed from over your pillow stained by your hair added to your empty hamper while covers settled around your waist and Sir Akdâmuthrab clambered over post stretch to plop down on your lap to sleep there instead of far below your feet. By now Dis, Vili, Dwalin and Balin had come to check on you and settled onto the end of your bed having come to check on you to send for your first meal of the day before the Doctors would arrive.

“So, I met Durin,” you started and in the growing group of their kin while the triplets continued to nap against your legs having been set down by their parents having scooted closer to grant more room for others to hear everything.

Kili, “How’d you get there?”

“I, don’t know. I never land in the same place when I go there, but this was the first time I woke up there. I think they thought I was dead. Must have,”

Vili asked, “Have you met Mahal?”

“I don’t know, I know Meldamalta is Tulkas, Manwe is obvious shroud in feathers, the others I am not certain. I might have, there are a few who look similar to etchings I’ve seen on display here, then there are others who are more, not feelings, that’s not the word…”

Dis said, “Un-bodied ones?”

That you nodded to, “Even Meldamalta’s son at times chooses to present out of his body. Mahal’s Halls none of your kin were like that, I think it was just the Elven lands. Even Celebrimbor held our lessons out of himself before as well. He might have been there, sorry to disappoint.”

Thorin’s hand laid on yours, “Oh no, no disappointment at all. Only few of our kin have returned from those halls, each tale is treasured.”

Gloin asked, “Would you mind us calling uncle Nain? Letting him know about his grandfather meeting you?”

“No, is he in the clan by blood or marriage, I didn’t know.”

Thorin smiled again as Frerin answered, “His Amad is of our line, but Firebeards and Longbeards have always been close.”

Your eyes drifted to Dis, “Celeste seemed happy hearing I chose her ring. And the keeper of yours told me to tell you,” for a moment your brows furrowed in repeating the mouthful of words slowly, “Mire the Spring?”

Dis smiled to Vili who explained, “A joke on how my Spring proposal was as troubled as hers had been.”

She patted her hand on your legs, “A good sign, thank you for the message.”

Through them a tray was brought in to rest on top of your lap for the meal the rest of the clan shared their plans for the day to help settle things of their own charge throughout the kingdom to aid in the recovery of the populace from this stunning attack while those in other kingdoms were doing the same. Doctors did follow after and with a sigh you settled into bed as Thorin was off to his own rooms for a private second inspection of his own wounds and warm bath to freshen up before his few tasks of the morning between him and his evening in with you.

Pt 22

All –

@himoverflowers​​​, @theincaprincess​​​, @aspiringtranslator​​​, @thegreyberet​​​, @patanghill17​​​, @jesgisborne​​​, @curvestrology​​​, @alishlieb​​​, @jogregor​​​, @armitageadoration​​​, @fizzyxcustard​​​, @lilith15000​​​, @marvels-ghost​​​, @catthefearless​​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​​, @c-s-stars​​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​​, @mariannetora​​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​​, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm​​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​​, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione​​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​​

X all Rich. A - @abiwim​​, @deepestfirefun​, @thestorybookmistress

[moonwalker750]

Headcanon: Elu Thingol

Melian kept Elwe in Nan Emloth for decades or a few centuries. Here's my take on what happened in the forest. No Hate!

First of all, Elu Thingol, after meeting Melian, had never been the same. Fey, one could say, a polite way to say he went mad. Standing under the boughs of tree in Nan Elmoth, gazing in Melian's eye for centuries, Elwë saw things that no elf should have seen. Nay, not only shown. She pulled his Fëa beside her in those memories, as if he was there himself, not seeing a memory, and Elwë felt. He felt Melian's making, saw Eru Iluvatar. Listened to the Music of The Beginning, so transcendent and unspeakable, his heart caving and his spirit trembling at the majesty of it.

He traveled past the halls of The One, through the vast galaxies, Melian urging him forward. He saw the Arda, from the heights unimaginable, its barrenness and saw it flourishing, one by one, things came to existence. Melian took his hand and they danced across the world in her memories, over the lakes, and among the clouds. He sat by her side, as Melian sang songbirds- nightingales, cuckoo, warblers, wrens- and trees with emerald leaves and silver veins into existence. Felt her love for these creations and, helpless, he loved them too. 

He saw the making of the two trees and their first light that brightened this world, his heart tremble at the sight of Melkor, his soul shuddering at the first marring of their world. The elation and awe as the Valars warred Melkor, He trembled with Arda at the arrival of Tulkas. He accompanied Melian in the peace that followed afterward, nourishing the world for The One's children.

And Melian. Euphoric. She did not stop there. She showed him more. Showed him the fabric of The Music draped over the world, the whirlwind of the future, and more. (He could not take it. His mind tearing at the edges. His sanity was tattered. Melian- distraught, confused, scared- would try to mend it and succeed for the most part. It wasn't your fault. You did not know, he would console her later. But Melian would remember it and would not make this mistake again. Not with their daughter. Not with Galadriel. There is no Elf, besides Elwe, to see the snippets of the world before their awakening.)

For the rest of his lives, he would see the vast stretch of galaxies behind his eyes, the fabric of music surrounding them, the future- a mess of images, barely coherent- and more. Just at the edge of his mind. Madness lurking behind a thin curtain, creeping softly.

The songbirds love him. Loved him as much as they revered Melian. Whenever he went into gardens, those little birds would surround him, seeking his attention and talking to him about everything. The reason why Elwë seems to know everything that went in Doriath.

The trees had always been more of a friend with these Dark Elves than their brethren in Undying Lands. It wasn't noticeable at first, but the branches of trees and plants would curve toward Elu whenever he stood near them. The flowers would bloom in his presence. Seeds erupting and flowere unfurling at the touch of his fingertips. (Once, Elwë slept upon a tree, and its limbs snaked around him. embracing him. Branches entwined with his braids, and flowers made a garland across his neck and hands. Mablung was the one to find him. Awed and chilled at the sight of Elwé wrapped among branches and vines, embraced as lover .)

The elves of undying lands carried the light of trees in their eyes. Bright and starlit. But the light poured out of Elwe's skin. His hair glimmerd and his skin shined with silver. When Elwe felt heightened emotions, his voice condensed, smoke like, past his lips. Vanishing after a moment.

Few are there who could boast to be Ainu-touched. For their touch leaves everlasting marks. Strands of Ingwe's hair had split into hundred short threads, like a feather. Fire leapt in Mahtan's eyes, Arafinwe with crystals dotting his face, Celegorm's fingers tapered into pointed claws. Ever-present glittering dust on Elwe's hand and lips.

That's it for part 1. Enjoy!

[arofili]

@tolkiengenweek day six || environment || mansions of the valar

TANIQUETIL :: “high white mountain”; the highest peak in Arda and seat of Manwë’s rule ELENARDA :: “stellar kingdom”; the atmosphere where Varda hung the stars AULËTAMIN :: “forges of Aulë”; the halls of Aulë and his smiths YAVANNESSELË :: “pastures of Yavanna”; golden fields tended by Yavanna MANDOS :: “castle of custody”; the domain of Námo and the resting-place of disembodied fëar VANWEMMAR :: “images of the past”; the halls of Vairë where her tapestries hang LÓRIEN :: “land of dreams”; the gardens of healing tended by Irmo LÓRELLIN :: “pool of dreams”; the lake of slumber where Estë rests FUIMAR :: “home of night”; the halls of Nienna that look outward from the walls of the world ULMONAN :: “vale of Ulmo”; the chasms of the sea where Ulmo dwells TAUREMAR :: “house of forests”; the woods of Oromë where his hunters roam TARWALAURËA :: “gardens of gold”; the gardens of Vána where spring is born TARMATAMBË :: “pillars of bronze”; the halls of Tulkas surrounded by green fields CÉVAPALIS :: “glades of renewal”; the green swards of Nessa where her maidens dance UTUMNO :: “deep-hidden hells”; the dark caverns of ice where Melkor schemes

[weezlbot]

Tag yourself: Valar

Might do one on the Maiar at some point. love those guys

tulkas. bench pressing your wife. the smell of leather. competitive sports. you haven’t skipped leg day, ever, and you look down on those who do. helping strangers at the gym. calling others “king.” kissing the homies goodnight. eating lots of meat, lean and fat alike. embracing the chad stereotype. energy drinks.

nessa. exercising with your partner. flexibility. music. dance of all kinds. gymnastics. muscular bodies, masculine and feminine. deer. horses. dogs. hooved mammals. energy drinks. loud laughter. earth tones. strong and effeminate. braids. you can’t eat anything with hooves--no beef, no venison, no mutton. lean meats and nuts for protein. 

orome. glowing green eyes. french horns. trumpets. desiring virgins. big dogs. long walks. keen sense of smell. horses. quiet footsteps. attraction to smaller, softer bodies. coffee. strong, yet tempered emotions. being the wiser member of your romantic partnership. you’re good with ranged weapons--archery or guns. advocacy for weapons safety. you’re simultaneously very good with animals and absolutely willing to hunt your own food if need be.

vana. violets. roses. bees. honey. amber. gardening. big dogs. long walks. loving stronger people. loving older people. pastries. chocolate milk. no caffeine for you--you keep good sleep hygiene. bright colors. pastels. light colors. sunshine. flowery dresses. stuffed animals. youthful energy. innocence. naivety, but not in a bad way--you’ve got a lot to learn and you can’t wait to learn it. balancing your work and your play.  

nienna. shades of gray. the way voices sound underwater. flowy clothing. hiding your face. studying psychology. studying grief counseling. being a crybaby, and being able to accept that. drinking tea for energy. mist and fog. shade. shadows. nighttime thunderstorms. monochrome. crying as a cope. sleeping as a cope. having a few very good friends.

manwe. birdwatching. bird feeders. cool winds. dried berries. charcuterie boards. compassion and sympathy, but not as much empathy. minimalist architecture. mountain peaks. windswept cliffs. being willing to drive for days and hike for hours for the sake of a good view. homes with visible rafters. thunderstorms. drinking tea for energy.

varda. glitter. sequins. white gems. stargazing. mountains. open plains. wearing mostly black and dark, cool colors. moonlight. starlight. cool white light. travelling with your partner. being willing to drive for days and hike for hours for the sake of a good view. drinking tea for energy. 

aule. gold. brass. bronze. steel. iron. wire. upper body strength. muscle like bands of iron. well kept hair--head, facial and body alike. muscular bodies, but only masculine. liking body hair. respect for craftsmanship. being good with your hands. poor taste in friends. good taste in lovers. coffee. liking the heat. fireplaces. you like to make stuff, and you’re good at it.

yavanna. shopping at Whole Foods. keeping a home garden, or at bare minimum, a few potted plants. growing your own food. raspberries. strawberries. mulberries. pies and tarts and other fruity pastries. woods and trees. grass and fruit. it doesn’t matter if it’s manicured lawn or wild field or forest, if it’s growing, you like it. being very good at cooking. coca-cola or Pepsi or other soda as a wake-up method. you and your partner have ideological differences but the love’s still there. 

lorien. sunflowers. buttercups. roses. fine china. porcelain. smooth glass. gardening. open fields. wildflowers. benches. lawn furniture. not liking caffeine, as you keep a good sleep schedule and don’t need it. studying psychology. counseling. you have a steady head.

este. sleeping as a cope. soft blankets. sleeping pills. smooth glass. smooth stone. shades of gray. warm fireplaces. quartz. sleepy tea. not liking caffeine--it makes you jittery. studying sleep medicine. yoga. meditation. mindfulness. swearing by the above three for nearly every problem you have. 

mandos. wearing dark clothes. dark coffee. goths, emos, and other depressed, black-wearing subgroups. shade. cool air. basements. dark stone. ornate fences. shiny gray glass that holds no light. smell of dust and stone. old books. not liking the sun--it hurts your eyes and is too hot for you. ouija boards. 

vaire. needlework. knitting. sewing. gray gems. goths, emos, and other depressed, black-wearing subgroups. coffee. shiny gray lightless glass. monochrome. colorless. smell of stone. cool air. shade. delicate white silk. studying history. the smell of old books. tapestries. being a little asocial, but you’ve got a few good friends, so does it really matter? 

ulmo. shells. tubas. foghorns. deep azures. navy blues. glints of pale light. coconuts. cold showers as a wake-up method. thunderstorms. not minding the cold or the heat. doing volunteer work. giving good advice. being very good at swimming. travelling the coasts. collecting interesting shells.

melkor. iron that never rusts. burning hot sun. frigid cold. living at extremes. icicles. hot desert sand. harsh light. inky dark. sharp teeth. loving shiny things. mushrooms. the scent of copper. sharp teeth. broken mirrors. powerful stimulants as a wake-up method--caffeine pills, Bang, cocaine, amphetamines. you’ve made some mistakes. half the world wants to fight you in person, the other half would rather not think about you. bodymodding. 

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

I would love to hear some nessa/vana/tulkas/orome thoughts if you wanted to share?

Ohhhh yes I have so many thoughts. Firstly for the vibes I have one ultimate Brainrot Song For They which is The Cult of Dionysus by the Orion Experience.

Before I was actually shipping them they already all occupied the same place in my brain because they make a neat little box of relationships- Nessa and Orome are siblings, Tulkas and Vana are their spouses along with functionally being the "youngest" of the Valar (Vana the ever young, Tulkas the last to come to Arda), Orome and Tulkas have overlapping Domains of hunting and fighting and chase after Morgoth's beasties, Nessa and Vana are considered the weakest Valar and are associated with flowers and general disney princess vibes. That's the basis I was working on.

So it started with... probably Tulkas/Orome but Nessa/Vana wasn't far behind. Tulkas/Orome is peak "construct intricate rituals to touch other men by 'wrestling' in the forest" and also I thought their character vibes suited shipping very well (Tulkas "canonically laughs in battle" Astaldo and Orome "canonically constantly pissed off" Aldaron). Even the Tolkien Gateway article directly contrasts the two. I'm working with what I've got.

Nessa/Vana have textbook fairycore forest lesbian vibes. Making each other flower crowns and braiding each other's hair and dancing in a lush clearing with birds and butterflies and bees and delightful woodland creatures (not to mention Vana's plausible association with fertility ;) Quoth Tolkien Gateway: "Vána robed Nessa with her flowers for [Nessa's] wedding." Could this be gal pals? Sure! But where's the fun in that when it's super gay! This is the least feral pairing simply because of how they relate to each other, but they're also the most shameless.

Of course the problem is that I'm a chronic canon-shipper unless I Physically Cannot Stand it, and I do very much like Orome/Vana and Nessa/Tulkas because you get fun hunter/gardener and dance/dojo vibes respectively, so I fix this the same way that I fix every problem: polyamory!

Orome/Vana has definite Hades/Persephone vibes to me, but wilder and without the whole. Kidnaping thing. Yavanna even slots nicely into Demeter's role but again, no kidnapping. She's much more chill with her brother-in-law. I have many inarticulate vibes about Orome's Domain of the hunt and dying opposing and complimenting Vana's Domain of new life and fresh growth, and how hunters weren't supposed to kill deer in the spring. Because of this, I think Vana is one of the few Valar who has no subjugation(?) at all to Orome's Domain despite the clear nature overlap (others who wouldn't are Varda, Namo, Vaire, Nienna, and Aule, but that's because their Domains don't really overlap with his at all, except for Namo who as Death would overpower Dying.) They are, functionally, each other's force-pairs in Newton's third law- the equal and opposite reactions.

My love for Nessa/Tulkas is more characterization related: to me, they are the epitome of those 20-something Fitness Couples who keep those super detailed daily planners with spots to fill in how much water you drank, who make really healthy delicious looking meals with seemingly no effort and constantly drink various smoothies but like. Fantasy Flavor. Their idea of a hot date is to spot each other at the gym, and martial arts sparring. They would go feral for Capoeira. Crucially, they thrive off of this. Their relationship is astonishingly healthy and peppy and they serve as each other's hype-man. My vibes-only Valar-in-modern-society AU has them opening a strip mall dance class/dojo place.

So we have the siblings, and the spouses, and the spouse swap (which has some very funny crack potential, I specifically find it amusing to imagine Nessa calling dibs on Vana and tossing Tulkas to Orome before stealing her away (they are both very amused, Orome is vaguely aggravated because she could just ask for time with their wife)

Tulkas/Vana starts as something like a relationship of convenience, along the lines of "Hey, our spouses are busy chasing each other around like idiots for Sibling Shenanigans, want to make out?" but ends up as something not quite romantic but past... FWBs I guess lol. A foundation of their relationship is committing to the bit- If Nessa and Orome are arguing it's even odds as to who will side with who, but if either of them has an argument with Tulkas or Vana it is the other's sworn duty to side with their bestie, no matter how utterly stupid. They will "Yes-And" each other's stories into eternity, even if it's a blatantly untrue excuse. This drives their spouses absolutely insane because "I know you're lying, and I know you know I know you're lying, and I know for a fact that you weren't doing something as dumb as convincing Aule to put smiley face shapes in rocks" but they will double down. (The one time they did this to Yavanna while on a warpath was unintentional and terrifying once they realized, but they committed and got her so frustrated and confused that she bluescreened and stormed off, forgetting why she had been interrogating Vana in the first place). Basically, they bring out the idiot in each other, and despite having very little in common they get along very well. It is also important to me that I see their typical physical forms as being a massive, firey, golden-veined stone giant (Tulkas), and a young, uncanny, bug-eyed and golden-haired hobbit lass (Vana). To the Valar this doesn't really register as strange beyond vague inconvenience for interacting, but to any elves who see them hanging out together it Very Much Is.

To use the terms I used in Appointed, Orome and Vana are Counterpoints, Nessa and Tulkas, Nessa and Vana, and Orome and Tulkas are Harmonies, and Nessa and Orome are Tone-mates and Harmonies. Tulkas and Vana are not quite Harmonies but they harmonize regardless. Don't mind if this makes no sense lol.