#Quenya ban

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 12: Geography :(

Aaaand now it's the time for a geography lesson, says the narrative.

Nevrast (Turgon's pre-Gondolin kingdom) is a Noldorin-Sindarin mixed culture. Nice. I assume Gondolin will be like this, too? And still, Eol took an issue with it being too Noldorin.

Finrod is above his brothers, and has the most land and is allied with Cirdan. He deserves it all, he is awesome. <3 Except the part where he doesn't tell Thingol about the shady stuff.

Morgoth's servants all hate water and do not go near the sea unless they really need to. I wasn't sure that was canon.

Ungoliant is mentioned again. She poisons water and it makes people insane. Wait, is this the place where Nienor will later get lost?

Nargothrond's location and surroundings described in detail.

Maglor's gap has horses, oh, so that is why "Maglor the horse girl" is a thing?

Finrod travels a lot, visits Ambarussar and Green elves and what not. Who rules Nargothrond when he's away?

No Noldor go through Ered Lindon in the First Age. I'm not sure if I need this information for something, but maybe.

Chapter XV: more Noldorin drama

Tumladen the Hidden Valley. Mhm. I feel like I've seen this morpheme somewhere more popular. :)

Turgon's Ulmo-induced anxiety is also a thing that sleeps and wakes, because Tolkien's poetic language. (I like Eldritch Oath, but it is a hc with no stronger textual support than the alternative, I think)

Turgon works in secret. And it is not very bad. (He still ends up loving it too much and dies, but he's a very mild case of this problem anyway). also, it takes 52 years (4*13, like deck of cards; or 2*26 and 26 is on of the numbers of perfection in the Bible, iirc. Maybe it's just random logistics.)

Ulmo appears to Turgon (in physical form not in a dream, as he later "returned to the sea") and infodumps him. Gives him a manual on what to do + a prophecy + you will mess up anyway + but it's ok I will send you a reminder + so leave here an armor in this exact size and style. (Really, Ulmo does give Turgon the exact size for the armor, helmet and sword.)

I have a feeling that (at least in Ulmo's opinion) Turgon isn't the brightest fish in the sea.

Meanwhile, Melian asks Galadriel what the problem is and Galadriel doesn't want to speak about it. Also, if seems like the Hiding of Valinor hid it also from Melian's mental information-gathering abilities? She sounds like normally she should be able to see what happenned but now she's not. Huh.

Important points Melian says:

the Noldorin princes never mention the Valar

the sons of Feanor are arrogant and cruel (this is pre-Kinslaying!)

[later] fate of Arda is bound to the Silmarils

[later] the Eldar cannot recover them on their own

Galadriel tells her about the unrest and what Morgoth did, but not the murders, oath or ship-burning. And refuses to say more.

Melian goes to thingol, Thingol also knew something was off and had been thinking about it. Melian warns him against the sons of Feanor, Thingol says that Feanor was a great Elf (according to what he heard) and his sons are sus, but useful as allies.

So, we have a (sort of) answer why Thingol didn't want to talk with the sons of Feanor: they were behaving so badly that (based on gossip, but it migcht have been well-founded gossip) he did not want to deal with them. Huh. for 400-ish years? Not even talk to them to see on his own? Weird but ok.

Now Morgoth starts spreading gossip among the Sindar. how? I would assume Sauron and thralls. I wonder why didn't he earlier tell the Sindar about Alqualonde. Did he not know? So how does he know now? I can't figure out his strategy here.

So Thingol accuses Finrod of being a kinslayer. Finrod is very nice to his cousins and diplomatic. He prefers to be blamed for something he didn't do than to tell on his cousins. But Angrod is still angry at Caranthir (after a couple hundered years, I think. huh.) and tells on them.

Is this why his name is Angrod? Because he gets angry so easily? (+after-the-fact Elvish etymology)

Anyway, Angrod explains he before didn't mention it because of loyalty. Huh. the earlier chapter said something slightly different, but ok. And he talls on them… except the Oath? Kinslaying and ship-burning is mentioned, but no clear indication that anyone told Thingol about the Oath. Which is interesting. Gives a lot of space to my favorite type of conflict (where each side has some good points, but they do not fully know other side's situation).

Thingol kicks them out for a time, and does the Quenya ban, which is directed at the Sindar only. Nothing in the book suggests that Thingol tried to ban the Noldor from speaking their language. Just the Sindar. And they listened. And avoided those who spoke it (which confirms that the Noldor did speak it with no ill consewuences greater than social ostracism). Everyone started speaking Sindarin, only the Noldorin princes spoke to each other in Quenya and the loremasters used it.

And we end on Finrod's sad foresight.

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Real odd that Thingol banned noldoran quenya but not noldoran heraldry. Consider: he did ban their heraldry, but Fingon couldn’t give two hollow flicks about the man who refused aid in their battle, and brought the banners anyway.

[edennill]

I kinda get why people in the fandom tend to have strong negative feelings about the Quenya ban because forbidding languages is not typically a good look, but for what it's worth, as a member of a nation that has had to deal with cultural genocide time and time again, I don't think it's really the same thing as the typical language policies of colonial empires.

I don't know how to explain this exactly, but... there is no other attempt at suppressing culture, the Noldor did do them wrong and Thingol is within his rights to feel betrayed... Yes, it was a badly thought out act of wrath, but it's not really comparable to the actions of real-life governments, and as someone whose nationality by necessity makes one conscious of the existence of such, it kind of puts me off when that is invoked. And I'm not saying that you cannot feel otherwise about it, because it is a thorny subject. But it's just not how I understand it.

[dalliansss]

Eöl came to a full court session. So many Sindar aristocrats, from great and small houses, seemed to have poured into Menegroth bearing many petitions and complaints. Every single one of them have one complaint: the trade restrictions now imposed upon them by the Noldor – not just from the East, but also from the West. Apparently, the children of Finarfin who were kin to the King, especially the eldest of them, a certain blond Elf who was known as Finrod – started restricting maritime trade from Círdan’s lands. 

To restrict Círdan at all! Just how powerful did these Noldor become in such a short span of time?!

King Thingol sat upon his throne and Eöl would swear he has never seen his uncle so angry. But what is a king’s anger and pride against the clamor of his entire court, against the common Sindar elves whom the majesty of Menegroth relied on? The aristocrats and commoners wanted the repeal of the Quenya Ban, or a substantial easing of it, because they cannot trade with the Noldor, and with the Noldor surrounding Doriath from all sides, the Sindar cannot now reach their other trading areas! They were hemmed in! Hemmed in, and were in very real danger of starving!

Even Elmo, Eöl and Galadhon’s father, began speaking against Thingol, urging him to reconsider the very rigid terms of the Quenya Ban. The nobles moved for Doriath to re-open negotiations with Hithlum. 

Finally, even Queen Melian was forced to listen and advised Thingol so.

And Eöl watched, fascinated, as Thingol struggled and swallowed his pride, and agreed.

The missive asking for negotiations was dispatched through Commander Mablung, on his fastest horse.

[lesser evils / AO3]

[annoyinglandmagazine]

I’ve got to say I think I’ve cracked why something about Thingol’s Quenya ban just gives me a major ick, and it’s not just my blatant Feanorian apologist tendencies because it’s literally just him and Eol that I get like this about. I’m not irrationally angry at Dior or Fingolfin and definitely not at the Teleri. It’s just him and creepy misogyny personified.

Because you see the history books I grew up with all talked at length about the circumstances that led to the virtual eradication of the Irish language (Gaeilge) and they are very Not Good. Languages don’t disappear for no reason, an entire people don’t just give up on the culture they were raised into and love if there isn’t some kind of outside pressure.

And the thing that bothers me about the Quenya Ban in particular is that so many colonisers did that sort of thing, villainised a language and through it a culture and people, and in all those cases it had a very negative effect in the people in question, forcing them to give up their heritage. It’s just racist there’s no way around it, he’s angry it the actions of the Feanorians mainly and so develops this deep hatred for everything associated with the race and culture they belong to, automatically labelling it with their crimes even though many who identify with it did nothing wrong.

And then enforcing it as law that people have to essentially assimilate to Sindarin and give up their identity, he makes them fucking change their names (that bit in particular is one of the things that makes me draw connections to Irish history to be honest, though I know it definitely applied elsewhere as well). I don’t know I’m getting extreme coloniser vibes off this guy and I don’t like it.

[fandomsandfairytales]

*currently mildly screaming because the timing of the Quenya ban in Beleriand is impacting what character names I'm using in my fic*

[novemberthecatadmirer]

Your family have something precious.

Someone comes and kills your family and steals your family’s precious thing.

You try to get it back but you can’t they are too powerful

Then someone else comes and beats the bad guy and takes the precious thing.

But they will not give it back to you.

Their argument is they did all the hard work. They risked their lives. They lost their friends and family to fight Evil while you tried but failed.

Surely they deserve a little piece of rewards?

Also, they said you do not own that precious thing to begin with. That thing is too good and must be shared with everyone for maximum benefit.

But you grew up with that precious thing in your home and lost your family over that thing and you want to keep it. You dead family will want to have it back.

Of course your family did not make that thing out of air. But your family were the ones to reshape it on so something fascinating, something precious.

You want your family’s precious thing back, and those heroes of the stories ignore your pleads.

Your probably think this is about Silmarils.

But this is also how a lot of Sindar elves think about their lost lands.

—————

Imagine you are a Sindar elf that goes back to where your hometown was after the Long Piece started.

Noldor has built a new city in their own style over the ruin of your home

And they welcome you to stay offering citizenship like they are the owner of the land

They imposed new laws, that are different with laws of you people, and they called their laws advanced and right

If you don’t like the laws, you have the “freedom” to leave. They built this place, after all.

You look at that hill over there. You know the name of that hill. Your father brought you there on your begetting days and planted trees.

Your father was abducted by orcs when the Constrainer came from the west. You don’t know if he is alive or not and you don’t know which is the kinder fate.

Now the trees are gone and there are Noldor houses over the hill, and they gave the hill a new name you do not like.

You want to ask if the trees were burnt in the war, or cut down to make places for the house. You kept your questions to yourself.

They came to fight the dark enemy and they brought back your lost homeland. They do not deserve that hostility.

So you live at their city, learn their language, follow their laws, and in your head you call that hill by its old name.

Then one day the words reached you, and you lost it, you went to your Noldor neighbors to ask is that true is that true you came on ships stained by blood of my own people across the sea

They did not look at your eyes, and you know the rumor is true.

But they had no problem looking at your eyes before. They only show guilt after you find out their crimes

You followed their laws.

But what laws did they follow killing your family to steal their ships?

Had circumstances been difficult, would they kill you to steal your land?

But you will not know. You will not afford to find out.

[child-of-hurin]

Gonna propose an angle here:

Nothing unites two people like a secret. The Noldorin excuse for the Mereth Aderthad is the Fingolfinians forviging the Feanorians and letting bygones be bygones -- but the cement is the Fingolfinians becoming the Feanorian's secret keeper, them meeting the Lindar as a united front.

Like, afaict this fandom doesn't much consider the possibility that Fingolfin and his people might have sought revenge, or at least washed their hands off the Feanorians. They might have sought an alliance with the Lindar and offered the Feanorians' crime as a proof of frienship, a sacrifice to justice. Nobody needed declare war on the Kinslayers: if the Lindar and the Fingolfinians (and whoever else) were hostile to them instead of welcoming, how would they have fared in complete isolation from their kin?

But Fingolfin doesn't do that, of course. He arranges a big party and sends for ambassadors of all people. Fingolfin is a highly competent leader and his reasons are practical, but of course feelings weighs in too. His son is a Kinslayer. So the Noldor host a feast and invite the Lindar. My brother killed your brother, my kin killed your kin, but I'm going to embrace you and smile and make vows of friendship and none shall be the wiser.

[urwendii]

I will never agree with the opinion that Sauron was the direct trigger of the fall of Númenor. They had started fucking up looooooong before Sauron re-emerged. I will however always laugh at the Valar sending eagles shaped clouds to tell them to stop being Mean(tm)

[caenith]

The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F:

The Exiles, dwelling among the more numerous Grey-elves, had adopted the Sindarin for daily use;

The Silmarillion, Chapter 15: Of the Noldor in Beleriand:

But Thingol was long silent ere he spoke. (...) 'But hear my words! Never again in my ears shall be heard the tongue of those who slew my kin in Alqualondë! Nor in all my realm shall it be openly spoken, while my power endures. All the Sindar shall hear my command that they shall neither speak with the tongue of the Noldor nor answer to it. And all such as use it shall be held slayers of kin and betrayers of kin unrepentant.’

Yeaaaaah... The Noldor adopted Sindarin. Sure.

[feanoryen]

Maglor was so iconic for raising Elros to be a Quenya fan, I just know Elwe "Quenya is banned" Thingollo was fuming in the halls of Mandos while Feanor had a smirk on his face.

[pearlescentpearl]

today I am amused by the fact all the On Page violations of the Quenya Ban I can remember are coming from the children of Fingolfin

Turgon: the entirety of Gondolin. 'nuff said.

Aredhel: teaches Maeglin under the roof of one of Elu Thingol's own kinsmen, the sheer fucking brass ones

Fingon: making announcements at the Nirn in Quenya with the full expectation all the elves and men there will understand him, implying that the bad bitches of Hithlum have been flouting the Ban thoroughly enough the Hadorians know Quenya as a second or third language

(this implicates Fingolfin too)

I dunno if the Quenya Ban was being upheld anymore in the Havens of Sirion so Eärendil is up in the air, as usual for him

if the Fëanorians were flouting the Ban they were apparently keeping that shit under a tight lid xD

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

[edennill]

See, I cannot understand why the Noldor didn't just switch to Vanyarin Quenya after Thingol banned their language which leads me to the only possible conclusion that it was because it preserves the "th" and they found their inter-clan squabbles more important.

[tolkienreader1996]

A list of games the Noldor invented (or made popular)

Quenya scrabble (the sindarin version was brought out when the language ban started but most families still used the quenya version)

At least seven strategy games including: Campaign for Beleriand, chess, and Risk

Monopoly, invented by Caranthir (who is reigning champion)

Jenga, invented by Turgon (who somehow keeps losing)

One horribly cursed board game whose name was erased from record but it was rumored to have been thrown into the ocean.

Hnefatafl (king’s board) invented by the Edain and brought over and popularized by Finrod

Charades was invented by finarfin and is a palette cleanser in between the more vicious fights

Uno (this has caused more fights then scrabble and we’ll tell you who won after Elrond finishes dressing the bite wounds) *edited thank you @elswing for the Uno suggestion, I knew I forgot something.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

All is Fair in Love and War

Summary: Beren could not have come to Nargothrond at a worse time. For while Beren and Luthien are absorbed in their legendary romance they are about to inadvertently cause the resolution of a much more precarious one. Alternatively: Finrod makes bad choices and Curufin will most definitely be holding a grudge

The moment he’d seen that ring once again Finrod had been overjoyed at the unexpected reunion with the people of his Barahir, publicly embracing him and welcoming him to Nargothrond unequivocally and pointedly ignoring the sense of foreboding in his mind and the daggers his cousins were glaring at his back. Well one cousin in particular, but he could allow Curufin his petty jealousy, a degree of possessiveness was to be expected with a partner as flirtatious as himself. There was nothing too out of the ordinary there.

However when he spoke to Beren his mood changed swiftly and any pretence of joy was stripped from him at the word ‘silmaril’. He looked deep into his eyes, so alike Barahir’s it made him want to weep, and knew that there would be no persuading him to reconsider, to find another love. No, the way he spoke of the princess of Doriath with his voice never once failing to seep with adoration at every word, the way he presented their marriage as the only possible course of action, he knew that this was a kind of all consuming love that he wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed before.

This was a love that they might burn all of Beleriand to the ground for, though he was more familiar with that kind, and also that they would put naught before, not their people and responsibilities nor any others they held dear in their hearts. There was nothing in all of Arda that they would not do or give up for each other. And for all talk of elves having but one love he’d never seen anything like it, not even between his cousins who would most likely massacre cities for each other but could only love through covert letters and the rare co ordinated visit out of a sense of duty. Certainly not between himself and- well.

He looked at the ring Beren held in his palm and knew that it bound him and yet felt the clutches of another ring just as fiercely as he reached into the folds of his robes to discreetly hold it, as he had so many times in this past week but never with so much dread. Nervousness yes, but never dread.

When he slipped into his chambers he was exhausted and weighed down by the knowledge that there would be no easy course of action for him to choose and certainly not one that would please all, gesturing for all his attendants to retire for the evening with a false weary smile. He was already shrugging off his court robes and ready to collapse onto the bed when he noticed he was not alone. Leaning against his intricately carved headrest sat the fourth son of Feanor, sharpening the blade of that dwarven dagger he held in such high esteem until it was as sharp and shining as possible by any crafts known to the peoples of Arda.

He continued to twirl it about his fingers as he lifted his eyes momentarily to send a suspicious glance towards the elf entering the room.

‘Is there something wrong?’ This was his opportunity to explain the situation, to try to convince Curufin of the course of action he should and was obliged to take, how they could turn it to their advantage and perhaps make this a great triumph for all their people. That would go down well.

‘All is well, no need to let your reservations towards our guest get ahead of you cousin,’ he said casually as he moved across his room to lay aside piece after piece of jewellery in their separate boxes with great care to give himself time to find out what tack he should take.

After deliberation he decided on changing the topic to one that would no doubt prove a good distraction and convince even skeptical Curufin that his demeanour was little changed. He changed his tone to a familiar teasing one as he began to unlace his tunic, ‘Why if I didn’t know better I’d say you were still harbouring some jealousy towards Beor. But surely the great Curufinwë could never be so petty, I must be imagining things as us flighty Teleri are so prone to do,’ he turned to shoot a playful grin towards the now glaring Curufin.

The breach of the Quenya ban here and only here was one concession he admitted he felt little regret over, after all was it so dreadfully unreasonable for Curufin to not want the sweet nothings whispered in his ear tainted by an unfamiliar name, by a reminder of the loss and theft of his heritage. Was it so unreasonable for him to want the same?

Curufin laid the dagger on the nightstand with a little clink and began to unwind his braids for the night as an alternate way to keep his fingers moving, ‘I am not, nor have I ever been, jealous of that pathetic mortal. You had an insignificantly brief dalliance with him for some perplexing reason, most likely pity, and such matters do not bother me in the slightest. Don’t be absurd,’ he refused to look up at Finrod in petulance as he had finished undressing down to his small clothes and sat facing him on the bedspread.

‘Curufinwë,’ he murmured gently, hovering nearer his ear so he could feel the shivers it illicited, and he twined his hand with paler narrow fingers as he ever so slowly pulled them out of the mass of half unwinded black silk and onto his lap, making a point out of dragging his own through it as he did so. Curufin finally raised his head to meet his eyes, looking deep into Finrod and seeing none of his misgivings, only deep affection.

This was not a wise course of action, to cling to something he wouldn’t be permitted if the nér before him knew all the facts, it was taking advantage of him in truth to withhold such vital information and still get an unasked for joy out of this stolen moment. Playing with a Feanorian’s emotions and trust in such a manner was possibly the most dangerous thing he could do, but then inviting one into your bed was already incomprehensibly reckless, the several daggers no doubt on Curufin’s person right now could attest to that, but allowing the heart to get involved was something entirely other.

On a tremendously ill advised impulse Finrod pulled away to a beautiful exhalation of laughter from Curufin at the perceived teasing which only solidified his resolve as he strode over to his jewellery cabinet to find it, as he’d planned to for many months in many ways, in many settings but never in circumstances such as these. He’d had months to do it but he knew he wouldn’t have months more, he knew if he didn’t do it now he never would, that this door would be permanently shut. Out of the many ways he had planned to do it this had been one, in his chambers with Curufin sitting on the bed with a knee drawn up to his chest and the candlelight burning low and lighting his face softly until the harsh features became something fond and gentle, he knew that he would most likely never have a night such as this again.

He walked back towards Curufin and dropped to his knees at his side, taking a pale hand in his and bringing it to his lips, receiving a smile of mild curiosity from the other nér ‘Findarato are you quite alright, darling? If you wish to be on your knees before me I shan’t object but perhaps you may find a more suitable part of me to kiss in such a position?’

The suggestive commentary was issued without anymore bite than subtlety, Curufin was still rather new to it after all, if he were in the mood to make love tonight Finrod would get round to it relatively soon, he was never one to be patient once they were alone and Curufin had smiled at him like that. That was not his goal here though certainly would not be unwelcome later.

He took several deep breaths and only the clumsy flirtation made up his mind for him as he slid the ring out of his pocket and held it out. It was a simple thing but of exceptional quality, mithril with a precious ruby setting, if he were to try and get elaborate about it there would no doubt be mistakes, invisible to most of course but not Feanor’s shadow, the one who had grown up in the forge of the greatest smith in history. Proposing to him with a flawed ring would not be a pleasant experience.

Curufin’s lips parted in shock when he saw it and it took a few moments for Finrod to speak and take the final plunge ‘Curufinwë Atarinkë Feanorion will you-’

‘Is this a fucking joke?! Because if it is Findarató, I swear to the Valar they will never find the fucking body-’

He cupped his chin and Curufin closed his eyes briefly and breathed slowly at the touch. ‘I mean it, truly. We most likely won’t be able to tell people but we could find somewhere, a field for all I care, and bind our souls to each other for all eternity. To make you mine and I yours, that is what I wish. Will you marry me?’

It was delusion. Even if by some miracle he said yes tonight he would be cursing Finrod’s existence tomorrow. That night would never come, they would never have that, if it hadn’t been this it would have been something else some other conflict of interest or betrayal. They were not meant to love each other and in every eventuality they ended their stories the same way they started them, hating all that the other stood for and chose to do with their life. They were not Beren and Luthien.

But just tonight, with the way Curufin leaned in to kiss him soundly in answer and slide down off the bed into his lap, winding his arms about his neck to deepen the embrace as Finrod held his waist and lost himself in the softness of his lips and press of his narrow frame, he slid the ring onto his lover’s finger and allowed himself to pretend.

However many hours later he was lying in the disheveled silken sheets with an even more disheveled Curufin sleeping on his chest, hair now fully undone and lying across all the pillows and sheets in a striking contrast of black strands against bare pale and golden skin, golden hair and white sheets. He looked so happy and at peace in his sleep, none of the nightmares that often haunted him anywhere in sight, and Finrod felt a tear slip down his cheek as he knew he would be sleeping alone after tomorrow. He brought his lips down and kissed a pale, smooth shoulder before attempting to find some rest himself.

When he found the rumours of a coup brewing they did not surprise him and nor did finding his chambers empty that night and somehow colder. Well almost empty. On the nightstand rested a single ring and a crudely made dagger, clearly made in a moment of anger so unparalleled that craftsmanship was temporarily cast aside in favour of sending a message (if it had been Feanor the hatred in his veins would only have amplified his skills but this was not Feanor). No, they were not Beren and Luthien. But as he cast his mind to the glowing light of lamps and candles casting the shadows of two hands intertwining in the night on the walls he knew that it had been as close to love as he would ever find.