#Noldor Elves

[g-m-kaye]

"Aredhel the White was younger in the years of the Eldar than her brothers; and when she was grown to full stature and beauty she was tall and strong, and loved to ride and hunt in the forests. There she was often in the company of the sons of Feanor, her kin; but to none was her heart's love given. Ar-Feiniel she was called, the White Lady of the Noldor, for she was pale, though her hair was dark, and she was never arrayed but in silver and white."

—The Silmarillion, Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalie

I actually made two palette versions and can’t decide which I like better: above is “sunset” (more dramatic), and below is “twilight” (softer).

After doing a few quite illustrative, stylised paintings recently I think I may move back towards doing some realism for a bit

I’ve never really enjoyed sticking with one style of painting for too long - it’s more fun to switch around between stylised, realism and painterly imho :)

[tolkieen]

Feanor did nothing wrong!

[redreyenotarget]

Argon, the youngest of Fingolfin’s children

[artanis-draws]

Soo here is some older piece I did with Photoshop and a Wacom Bamboo tablet! Feanor is one of my favourite characters from Tolkien-Universe. His name fits so well with his kinda fiery temper and I imagined him surrounded by -of course- fire. I think I am really into wild personalities. Thought of him fighting the second major battle of the War of the Jewels in Beleriand, the Dagor-nuin-Giliath (or the Battle Under the Stars).

->The pose was a reference from Pinterest! Thanks to the artist, but sadly he wasn't mentioned and I can't find the artwork anymore.

[ramoth13]

Interesting Trends and Voices in the Silmarillion Fandom

~

Although I have been a lover of Tolkien since the earliest days of my youth and have been a Tolkien Scholar for over a decade, I have not made too many forays into the Silm fandom other than when I was younger and more recently a few years ago. Thus, I was rather surprised by the trends that seem to be mainstays of the Fandom and which ones I've seen big shifts in. I'll mention them briefly, but please note, although I may share differences of opinion regarding these characters or themes, we all share a deep love of the source material and that makes us fellow Enthusiasts. Whatever our differences, we have more in common with what we love than that which we do not.

With that said,

A "newer" trend I've noticed is the number of Fëanorian apologists, which is rather surprising, especially given their vocality. Some of the more common trends in this vein:

~A general indifference towards Fingolfin apart from a "if he had been through what Fëanor had, he would have been that way too" kind of approach, etc.

~All of Fëanor's sons (but especially Maedhros) are often given the best possible excuse for every action and bad decision. Others like Thingol or Elwing, less so.

~Finarfin and his children are generally regarded as boring, except for Galadriel who is either, loved as being awesome, wild, and wise or slightly disliked for having ill-opinions of Fëanor or some combination of the two.

~Fingolfin's line is seen as either goody-two-shoes or full of themselves, with the exception of Fingon who is close friends with Maedhros.

~The Valar are often illustrated to be antagonists, especially when in opposition to the Fëanorians.

~In the same light, I've seen a few posts that portray Luthien as being somehow problematic, seemingly to balance out the negative Fëanorian interactions she endures.

~One of the more sad effects of this apologist line of thinking is the Denegration of Elrond and Elros' parents. In order for Maedhros and Maglor to be considered "good" their actual parents are seen as "bad" despite little evidence of that being the case.

~ It seems Fëanor and sons have become the golden child of the Silm fandom, a spot once reserved for Sauron and Morgoth, if memory serves.

NOTES:

These are all fairly intriguing lines of discourse and I understand that they are tied up in and often heavily influenced by the fan-fictions and fannons. Still, it does make me wonder, with how vocal the Fëanorians are (especially on tumblr), how many Nolofinweans are in the Fandom? How many fans of Finarfin's cohort (or as one Tumblr user once called them), the blondes?

Some older trends that continue:

~Thingol still sucks (at least by common thought). It is interesting that despite all of the love of the Noldorin lines given their proclivity towards violence and bad decisions, the fandom still has not been able to lend some compassion towards the reigning Sindarin Monarch.

~Celeborn somehow ending up with Galadriel is still a big mystery (I do love this one).

~Sauron is still seen as Morgoth's boyfriend/lover/etc.

~The Valar are antagonists (before this was due to the Sauron/Morgoth apologists, and now it seems to stem more from a Fëanorian view)

~Turin and Beleg are still a ship (I am pleased).

~Halls of Mandos Reunions (always a classic).

~Gimli/Legolas ship.

Some older trends I don't see as much:

~Fingolfin/Fëanor ship (I'm not upset that this one is scarce. Even in Fantasy, incest isn't my thing).

~Fingon/Maedhros ship (see above note)

~Celebrimbor is the greatest elf of all time.

~Melkor/Manwe/Varda and/or Sauron love triangles.

I'm curious to see what others think of these trends. I'll be the first to admit, I have always had a fondness for the Nolofinweans, but it is interesting to see the growth of the Fëanorian fans and how quickly their voice has grown into one of the primary topics of fandom discourse (which is good, I love the discussions!).

~ Ramoth13

[ofmiceandwomen]

The portrait of the prince, taken and edited by @thistlesandstories (as well as the other pictures of me)

I had a great time at the local convention. I’m happy to announce that me and @thistlesandstories won the cosplay contest as the absolute winner, we earned awesome rewards and most importantly we really had fun and I am very grateful to @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown for helping us coming up with the presentation ideas an turned it into an entertaining spectacle.

This is our team. We are proud of ourselves

Both of the costumes are original designs made by us. We used multiple artworks and historical clothing references. I wrote more on it here

Some more pictures:

Bonus: comparison to the portrait by spectacular artist @jennydolfen

[lamemaster]

Elves Reaction to a Mythical S/O

Request: I saw the “ Feel free to request “ in the bio and I wanted to ask if you could write something like a Mermaid!Reader Or Fairy!Reader headcanons with Maedhros Celegorm Caranthir Glorfindel and Ecthelion? I would appreciate it <3

Characters: Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir, Glorfindel, Ecthellion

AN: Took some creative liberty with some of these but I hope you still like them. Also, the way I got carried away with Celegorm is not real. I hope you like it and thanks for requesting this! (Divider by @cafekitsune)

Celegorm- Celegorm lay wounded, his lifeblood seeping into the quiet forests of Beleriand. Beside him, Dior's lifeless form grew cold, devoid of the light that once animated it. As he awaited his inevitable end, Celegorm allowed himself a moment to embrace the surroundings. The scent of damp earth, the gentle rustle of leaves in the air, and the murmurs of the horrified trees—all of it reached his senses, and even in his pain, he found solace in these simple pleasures. He dared not contemplate his fate, for whatever awaited him was yet unknown. Suddenly, a subtle thrum of activity surrounded him, a buzz that reverberated through the forest. Even the trees whispered a name he couldn't grasp. And then he smelled it—the sweet, cloying scent of decay. It was reminiscent of rotting grapes, withering to produce wine, or overripe fruits dissolving into the soil. "Oh, look what they left us this time—one still alive," your voice chimed like a symphony of bells in Celegorm's pain-addled mind. From his blurred vision, Celegorm observed as flowers bloomed beneath your every step. And then, you stopped right in front of him. "Help," he managed to croak, and you laughed. Mirroring your laughter, Celegorm felt a surge of mirth course through him, even as his blood continued to flow excessively. "Ah, my pet," you crouched down, and Celegorm instinctively leaned into your touch as your fingers grazed his cheek. "Should I truly save you?" You tilted your head innocently, your silver-hued skin shimmering in the dappled sunlight. A crown adorned with sapphires rested upon your head, complementing the brilliance of your sparkling eyes. "Think carefully," you whispered with a playful smile on your lips, and Celegorm became captivated by their allure. "A bargain with the fae is no trivial matter." As a sharp pain invaded his mind and body, Celegorm's gaze lost focus. Your talons, sharp and unyielding, grasped his wound, prying it open further. Despite the agony coursing through him, Celegorm found himself nodding, his voice barely a plea, "Please…". “Alright, then elf,” in seconds the wound that you had pried open closes and Celegorm stares in disbelief as his skin stitches itself back together under your touch. By the time you are done, there rests a brand where Dior’s sword had once impaled him. Your brand on him.

Ecthellion- Long ago, in the Ages of the Trees, Ecthelion had felt the weight of the ocean, a burden he carries with him even now. However, it is not the brine of the ocean that floods his lungs, but the water of his own fountain, leaving him gasping for breath. The misery he experiences now seems more profound than the incident of his childhood. Back then, he held onto hope that someone would come to his rescue, and indeed, you had come. Through the darkness, you swam with your shimmering green tail, and in your arms, you cradled a young Ecthelion. That single act had been enough to ignite his fascination with Alqualondë, drawing him to its shores in search of glimpses of you, the mermaid familiar with the Teleri's realm. Admiration had blossomed into love as Ecthelion fell for his savior. But now… hope has faded. Ecthelion finds it harder to believe in the possibility of a rescue as he drowns in the shallow waters, mere feet from the depths of the ocean. The day he departed the bloodied shores, he shattered any chance of your care. He knows you would not spare a thought for one who sided with the kinslayers. “I wish I had left you…I wish I hadn’t saved you,” the echoes of your final words haunt his ears, replaying over and over as he envisions your tear-stricken figure on the ravaged shores. Even as he draws in the water, he feels his own tears mingling with it, his heart heavy with regret.

Caranthir- Caranthir sighed in frustration as the thread snapped once again, the fifth time within the last two minutes. "Will you please stop already?" he exclaimed, giving up on the futile game of searching for the elusive cause of his thread's constant breaking. Finally, he looked up towards the branch where you sat, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. "Oh, me?" you replied, feigning an expression of shock, vigorously shaking your head. "How could I have possibly done anything from wayyyy up here?" Your playful act may have fooled others, but Caranthir, after years of knowing you, remained unconvinced. Caranthir's frustration simmered as he contemplated your mischievous presence on the branch above. His impulse to chuck a rock at you was quickly suppressed, knowing it wouldn't deter your playful nature. But you weren't oblivious to his internal struggle. With a dramatic flourish, you folded your wings, mocking innocence evident in your eyes. "Oh, look at you," you taunted, your voice carrying a blend of seriousness and amusement. "What did a poor, dainty little fairy do to you? I hope all your needles break and all your threads end up in a tangle." Despite the biting nature of your words, a glimmer of mirth danced in your gaze. Tired of your antics, Caranthir abandoned his position and began to make his way back. But before he could take more than a couple of steps, he felt a familiar weight land upon his back. Your arms encircled him, and your head rested gently on his shoulder. His hands instinctively moved to support your legs, preventing any chance of you slipping. "Forgive me," you whispered softly, your fingers idly playing with his braids. Caranthir didn't utter a single word in response, but the way he his hands securely supported your legs on each side spoke volumes.

Maedhros- Maedhros found himself engulfed in a sea of grief, his heart heavy as he watched his father burn the ships that were meant to aid their kin. The weight of witnessing his father's gradual descent into darkness, coupled with the burden of blood and oath, had taken its toll on Maedhros. The shores were ablaze with the burning remnants of the ships, and amidst the chaos, he discovered you. Your countenance was hidden beneath the veil of long, flowing hair, but one striking feature remained exposed—a majestic teal tail that identified you as a creature of the sea. Lying on the shore, your body bore the scars of burns, rendering you unconscious and vulnerable. Drawn by an invisible force, Maedhros knelt beside you, gently parting the strands of hair that obscured your face. In that moment, he couldn't discern whether it was love or lust that gripped his heart, but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from you. As he pulled you from the water, your tail transformed into naked legs, signifying a profound change and a bridge between worlds. Draping his cloak over your form, Maedhros carried you to the sanctuary of his tent. With tender and feather-soft touches, he applied a healing paste to your wounds, his eyes fixated on your closed eyes. In that intimate exchange, he felt an indescribable connection. You belonged to him, bound together in mind, heart, and soul, intertwining with his own unguarded being. When the following morning arrived, you awakened, your memories of the past washed away like wet ink fading on a page. A new dawn emerged, and the eldest Feanorian rejoiced. For in your rebirth, he saw an opportunity to offer himself to you completely. The sea had dared to separate him from his home, his mother, his people and so he took away something precious from it. Something he keeps a secret even as he hangs from the cliff of Thangodrim. You are to him as the Silmarils were to Feanor. Even in death, Maedhros' spirit would follow you as you traversed the world, your past forgotten in the depths of ages long gone. You were his eternal companion, a tether to a forgotten era, forever intertwined in the tapestry of destiny.

Glorfindel- "Do you truly think Asfaloth's bells are better than mine?" you ask, your figure delicately balanced on the balcony as you fix a piercing glare upon Glorfindel. He finds himself in a predicament he never anticipated, caught off guard by your sudden confrontation. "It's not a matter of comparison, really," the Balrog slayer tries to deflect, hoping to avoid further conflict. However, you refuse to let him off the hook so easily. "Oh, really? Because if I recall correctly, your past romantic odes were filled with praise for the sweet chimes of my own bells, not those on Asfaloth," you remark, plucking at the tinkling bells adorning your anklet to emphasize your point. "These bells carry the essence of my magic, and yet, you hesitated. You faltered at Elohir's foolish question." Glorfindel winces, inwardly cursing Elrond's son for inadvertently causing this current predicament. Stepping closer to you, he channels his sweetest voice, accompanied by a subtle loosening of the top buttons of his shirt. "Melda," Glorfindel begins, his voice tender and sincere, "there is truly no comparison. Even Asfaloth's bells were born out of the days when I pined for you." He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips, as you instinctively reach out and fiddle with the buttons of his shirt." Is that true?" you inquire, a hint of vulnerability lacing your voice. Glorfindel nods, relief washing over him. Crisis Averted for now. He would make sure to apologize to Asfaloth tomorrow.

[lorica-art]

Young Feanor

Old sketch, patreon

[solmarillion]

all of the noldor elves are my pathetic little meow meows now. they literally put -nya at the ends of words to make them possessive, of course they're meow meow material

[eerieechos]

“But Aredhel said: 'I am your sister and not your servant, and beyond your bounds I will go as seems good to me. And if you begrudge me an escort, then I will go alone.’”

[kaia-art]

Maglor and Curufin were trying to save Maglor's wife from being slaughtered in the the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. (According to my Client's headcanon)

🔥Commission work. Do not reuse or repost⛔️

[tolkieen]

*A determined Celegorm wooing his crush the Vala Oromë by holding a boom box up in front of his mighty Forest, playing with full blast “in the middle of the night” by Elley Duhé

In the background:

His brothers standing with him as “moral” support

Feanor massaging his temples: “Where did I ever go wrong raising this kid”

Nerdanel: “Don’t look at me, I’m not the one who told him about when you did the exact same thing in front my father’s house”

Fingolfin hiding behind a tree, laughing and eating popcorn

[redreyenotarget]

I bought some pencil and paper to exercise my pencil drawings😌

[and-the-stars-collided]

The First Elves as Aesthetics:

Finwë  —  grey skies, pine trees, stag's antlers, gritted teeth, piles of firewood, howling winds, lace table cloths, black ponds slick with ice, cautious, likes to plan, whispered confessions onto the autumn wind, the sharpness and cutting edge of a cold breeze, the glint of a metal blade, the bright teal of a midday ocean and the blackness of wild volcanic beaches, strong and independent, black hair, often staring into space, autumn mornings, braiding hair, love ballads, smiling fondly, lying by a small creek, falling in love when you shouldn't, starlit nights, regret, bittersweet kisses, being left wanting more.

Míriel  —  memories of past lovers, withering flowers, polished gravestones, being young and naive, gathering flowers and seeds, uncut gemstones, the gleam of a single tear falling, the silver reflection of the moon mirrored on the surface of a pond, an absence of sound, morning mist, hazy eyes, uncertain smiles, subtle exchanged glances, rich tapestries, tears streaming down their face, shattered promises, a not-quite persistent yearning, shaky breaths, moonlit rows, nimble hands, dancing to music playing softly in the distance, trusting the secrets of the night, waking up anew with determination.

Indis  —  warm tea, comfortable silence, soft eyes, messy hair, golden clouds, the sound of rain, a heart traced onto fogged up windows, yellow clothes on the days where the sun seems to have left forever, waking up to tear-stained sheets and feeling a little bit lighter, hopscotch in puddles, love at first sight, soft forehead kisses, secretly insecure, easily mistaken for the bad guy, wants the best for others, lost in thought, star gazing, always wearing some sort of shimmery nail polish, flowing dresses, wavy hair, the peace maker, the one to be called when something very specific is needed, butterflies, sparkling eyes, second chances.

Ingwë  —  bare feet on warm summer dirt, flower crowns slipping off heads after being flung back with laughter, mugs of too-sweet tea, sweet kisses, heart-wrenching poetry, pressed flowers, long hugs, warm and hazy afternoons, singing old songs, sunflowers, laughing till your chest hurts, bathing in sunlight, has the brightest smile ever seen, dried paint on their clothes, headbands and scrunches, fresh pancakes in the morning, stubborn but quick to learn, wanting to be on time and always a few minutes late, an artist's way of thinking, a journey of discovering one's passion.

Ilwen  —  the feeling of walking barefoot, inhaling the salty smell of the sea, forgetting about everything else but the fact that you are alive in that exact moment in the universe, grapes and oranges, the refreshing feeling of laying on the cold sand, complex architecture, busy markets filled with noises, the light swaying of a ship, sun-kissed skin, the smell of freshly baked bread at sunrise, drinking coffee under the warm morning sun, linen sheets, home-made jam, caring touches and warm smiles, looking for a shape in every cloud going by, simply enjoying the scenery, watches butterflies, drowsy days. 

Ingwion  —  dark brown eyes, apple cider, thunder, creaking doors, owning up to rare losses, not accepting the path already created, confidently moving, staying in the deep end of a pool, reserved laughter, reckless, somehow manages to stumble into opportunities whenever they need them, quite the expert at falling out of love, will not worry unnecessarily, not taking the word of strangers seriously, seems warm but surprisingly coldblooded, deadpan jokes, sees everything but speaks rarely, dark under-eyes, loves stormy nights, punches and bruised knuckles, surprises and laughter, long empty hallways, tight hugs.

Thingol  —  regal, attempting to remain calm while in pain, silver moonlight, a thin pane of glass between you and society, luminescence, corrupted kings, forced smiles, too much ambition, protective of their family, falling through the sky, sharp collar bones, lip biting, purposeful words spoken with a sharp tongue, black coffee, dangerously flashing eyes, dripping false smiles, talking to people they have never met before aggressively, not held back by wanting to be in control, hoping for your demise, viciously smiling at others innocence, craving to turn the knife in the wound, perfectionism.

Olwë  —  begging to fly, pebbles thrown into the sea, rain falling against your face, not knowing if you are alive or dead, fingers tracing the petals of a wilting flower, rejoicing in storms, losing reality, staring at the horizon, deep conversations, knowing looks, rather standing shoulder to shoulder with one of their own than with an outsider, living a solitary life, sleeping on the ground, carving their name into rocks, crashed and wrecked boats, smoke signals, a fear of confrontation, bruised knuckles, patiently waiting for their enemies unhappy ending, pretty smile concealing a savage nature, bad manners sometimes.

Elmo  —  faded sunsets, running wild in the mountains and plains, kissing their lover in uninterrupted nature, dim lights, diving deep into the ocean, heartbeat pounding against your chest, flowers blooming slowly, feeling like you were made for another world, flowers growing in your heart, the accidental brush of fingers with your lover, nervously running one hand through your hair, red cheeks, tenderness, falling in love with someone you don't even know yet, pink clouds, nervous fiddling, notebook pages full of rambling, moonlight, rainy days, dreamy eyes, healing people you love, curiosity, old folklore.

[gondolin-but-not-forgottenlin]

so to add an opinion to the who tf wants to be an elf make me a hobbit debate. um. its me. i want to be an elf. yes yes, cottegecore hobbits eat so many meals a day no worries farming blah blah blah BUT BUT BUT elves are immortal. do you know how much i COULD DO IF I WAS IMMORTAL? i could learn all the languages and all the history and i could do all of math and i could learn the names of all the stars and the constellations and i could learn how to make clothes and i could learn how to weave and i could learn glasswork and metalwork and i could learn jewelmaking and i could learn woodwork and i could read all the books and i could attend all the universities and i could grow a herb garden and learn all their uses and i could paint canvases bigger than me and i could learn medicine and i could learn alchemy and-

anyways back to hating my mortality

[ofmiceandwomen]

My almost finished Maedhros cosplay based on my very own design. Photo and edit by @thistlesandstories

The costume contains handsewn shirt (I used Lyocell instead of linen because it looks more elvish), cotton hand quilted vest with customised metal buckles, waist belt including the embossed Oath of Fëanor and wide belt adorned with Fëanorian stars made from polymer clay. The sword is a prototype made from EVA foam, but I want to make a less wrinkly one.

The bracers, the scabbard and the belt are all my own leatherwork. Details for nitpickers:

Makeup details: