#ambarussar

[cilil]

I like to hc that the Ambarussar were really into puzzles when they were young and would solve them all the time, working together as one with surprising speed and efficiency as if they shared a mind

[eilinelsghost]

(If you are one of the blessed few who does have this linguistics knowledge and knows with certainty, please do hop in the comments and let me know.)

[doodle-pops]

Hi Mina,

I've got a question - not sure if you've answered this before but what kind of flowers would you associate with the Feanorians?

Thank you :)

a/n: So, I'm no expert on the floral matter, thus this was a first-time crack at something challenging.

House of Feanor

Flowers They Are Associated With

Feanor

Amaryllis – they represent confidence and pride, a familiar trait the firstborn of Finwë remarkably wears on his shoulders.

Emilliia – for his creativity in life and his craft.

Camellia – for his symbolism of perfection in his craft and physical making.

Maedhros

Dhalia – for his beauty which he is renowned for

Gladiolus – for his strength to rise above his traumatic past.

Magnolia – for his perseverance in life during his years in Beleriand and being able to hold out for such a long time despite the oath.

Maglor

Black Rose – to represent his mysteriousness.

Hyacinth (purple) – to represent sorrow, regret, forgiveness and guilt when he took in the twins.

Chrysanthemum (white) – to represent grief and despair his life turned out the be in the end. It also represents death, in the sense of his character when he gave it all up.

Celegorm

Hydrangea – for vanity and pride in his abilities.

Petunia – for his hasty temperament and vivid emotional spectrum when anger becomes him.

Hyacinth (red) – for his playful approach to love interests and life

Caranthir

Geranium – to represent his open friendliness during his time as Lord of Thargelion with the Edain and dwarves.

Star of Bethlehem – you can always could on Moryo to give his genuine opinion even if some may come off a bit harshly.

Amaryllis – for his composed and peaceful rule during his time in Beleriand, Moryo should have pride in his abilities.

Curufin

Mandevilla – for his thoughtlessness after attempting to cease power from his cousin after his kindness.

Hydrangea – for his excess pride in his house.

Chrysanthemum (purple) – for his undying loyalty to his house and brothers.

Ambarussar

Red Spider Lily – to represent Amrod's unfortunate death

Fawn Lily – for the close friendship with each other, there was no other they loved more than the other twin.

Primrose – to represent the youth they were when all major life-changing events took place in their lives.

Protea – for the courage that it took for Amras to stand up to his father and still continue after the death of his brother.

Celebrimbor

Protea – the courage it took him to cut all ties with his father and family after Nargothrond.

Primrose – to represent his youth when his life spiralled downwards.

Baby's Breath – his innocence and trust towards Annatar during their friendship.

Geranium – for his open friendship with the dwarves and sharing his love and passion for crafting with them.

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Love notes to the Fëanorians

Author's note: Tried something new with this one. Imagine slipping a little note under your fav Fëanorian's door :)

-

Carnistir

A rose you are, dark and deep as the sunset’s crimson embrace. 

Your petals rain on me like prayers. 

My fingers, pierced by thorns as sharp as your tongue, 

long to be intertwined with thine on this day. 

Makalaurë

It dawned on me, 

like the fog loves the rain —

I love you.

Like the tides pledge themselves to the shore — 

bound to you, I am. 

Tyelkormo

When I think of you, I bloom.

In the most peculiar ways, I flourish. 

Maitimo

Only the whispering winds

could convey my sentiments to you.

With open hands

I dwell. 

Atarinkë

Your piercing eyes, 

have magic trapped inside.

How I linger in your gaze,

awaiting your touch.

See me, hear me, ruin me. 

Ambarussar

Do indulge

in these verses dedicated to you.

Conjured up from deep inside, 

to wherever you are. 

Heartfelt laughter is what you are, 

brighter than an innocent smile,

lighter than the air I breathe.

Love is never enough,

for my feelings run deep, 

deeper than one word could ever convey.

[kanafinwe-makalaure]

Why are you still looking in the flames? He's already right next to you.

[silmawensgarden]

XIX-THE SUN CH4

Word count: 1K (Shorter due to little writing time.)

-----------------------

To think that housing 7 Fëanorians is difficult is an understatement. Mostly financially…

-----------------------

I woke up with a jolt. Another morning, another heaping of noise. Are they always this loud..?  It comes as no surprise that this morning, same as the previous one, it was once again too early. “It’s 6:05….please don’t be doing cookery in the fireplace again.” I groaned out.

Sitting up I forced my tired body to function. It’s only been two days since their arrival. I haven’t gotten used to their antics yet. I’m hoping I will soon.

After getting dressed I walked out into the hallway and down the stairs. I then hesitantly walked in to the living room, fully expecting a grand mess. No mess. “Thank goodness, they spared me from that.” I mumble.

“Good morn y/n! Have you rested well?” Maedhros asked. “Yeah…sort of, though it was cut short.” I replied. A little bit of irritation evident in my voice. “I woke an hour ago, the sunrises here are amazing! Do you not like waking early?” Celegorm asked, far too chipper for the time of day.

Caranthir huffed; “Not everyone likes being dragged out of bed at ungodly hours of the day, dear brother. Y/n is correct, keep ME out of your morning rituals as well next time.“

Looks like someone shares my feelings. I thought. Smiling a little at the look on Caranthir’s face. The redness on his face only served to make him look cuter. He doesn’t look as bad as they described him in the book. He actually even has a few freckles.

Walking further into the room I asked them about breakfast. No one had eaten anything yet. Which prompted me to change my course towards the kitchen. I’m craving something savory for breakfast today. So a nice oven dish it will be.

After roughly 30 minutes food was ready and everyone sat down to enjoy breakfast in peace. ‘Peace’ being subjective here. I saw Ambarussa eyeing the microwave AGAIN. And Curufin has been stealing glances in the direction of my laptop earlier this morning. I’m getting a bad feeling about all this.

Perhaps introducing the function of these items would warrant a safer outcome than keeping those troublemakers ignorant.

Clearing my throat, I decided to get straight to today’s business; “Amrod told me he’d like some decorations for his room yesterday. I’m assuming the rest of you feel the same. Also, you need new clothes. All of you.” I said.

The group nodded at the decor statement. But the clothes one didn’t go down as smoothly. “Why do we need new clothing? I think our robes are perfectly fine as they are.” Curufin stated flatly.  Disdain evident on his face.

“Well, because you stand out like a sore thumb. People are staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. Not to mention that these robes are not useful to wear in this day and age.” I explained.

“It’s not difficult at all to find some new clothes for you, as well as the decorations. We can purchase it all online.” I said. “ I might have to get Maedhros to a tailor though, I’m not sure we have pants in regular stores that will fit you right. But we can still take a look in case they do. ” I added. Maedhros is taller than the average person, by far. So the tailor- idea really isn’t that bad.

They shared some looks among each other. “Okay, if you think this is a good idea. I did indeed notice a lot of people staring at the market yesterday.” Maglor said.

Glad that everyone seemed to agree to the idea I got up from my seat and went to the living room. Grabbing my laptop and getting comfy on the sofa, I called the group over to the sofa as well. I wonder if we have anything that they’ll like fashion wise.

Googling a few of my favorite stores , I waited for all of them to huddle closer around the laptop. Curufin was probably the most sparkly-eyed of the group. Which then resulted in me having to explain about the internet, my laptop and everything that came with it until my tongue hurt.

After that was done we decided to finally take a look at the items available.  3 hours later everyone had picked out enough things for both their rooms and their outfits.

Celegorm went ballistic on every website that sold plants and other nature related items. The Ambarussa also didn’t hold back on the nature theme. Which means that we’ll be getting roughly 14 plants delivered tomorrow, since I also wanted 2 extra plants in my room. 14 plants selected by 4 people.

Caranthir liked the gothic-collector themed stuff a lot. He didn’t shy from leather items either, though we settled on faux leather instead. As long as it’s of high quality of course. Curufin agreed to it as well. With more difficulty than Caranthir though. Both are very quality savvy so I wonder what they’ll think of the items. Curufin needs to go to a DIY-store sometime, he’ll like it there. I thought.

Curufin stayed most true to his royal clothing style, high quality things that deviated very little from what he already wore now. He did actually buy a denim jacket, I did not expect that in combination with his other purchases.  

Maglor went in the hippie-bard direction. Those balloon sleeves on every other shirt….sigh.. . I’m sure he’ll look great though. Maedhros went with slightly more casual items, though the colors were more vibrant. Most things he picked out would look amazing on him, especially the jewel tones in combination with his hair. We decided to buy a pair of pants for him in the longest sizing available, just to check.

The items all had different delivery dates. Though all would come withing 3 to 4 days. The plants tomorrow, and the clothes in two days. Some decor, such as the large antique globe that Caranthir and Curufin fawned over, would take 4 days to deliver.

So far everyone was content and happy banter erupted in the room soon after. Everything was just as it should be.

-----------------

[lordgrimwing]

How Elwing Lost A Silmaril

The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.

The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.

But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.

The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.

The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.

Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart. 

The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar. 

I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring. Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you. Let this not end with blood.

She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.

She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.

Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.

You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot. What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command.  You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me.  So, what would I have? I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire. 

She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did. 

Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…

And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.

The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.

“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.

She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.

The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”

Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face. 

[deadqueernoldor]

It is my firm belief that if Caranthir had survived the 1st age, he would have established a new realm either on the eastern side of Esgaroth or around the area where the Rivers Celduin and Carnen (from Iron Hills) meet.

My man nopes out of the active warzone until his brothers forced him into it again, he'd do it again but more firmly the second time around.

[nighttimepatrons]

going to take my weekly accounting quiz, wish me luck

[twofoursixohjuan]

Stefan: hey, Edvin

Stefan: can a person breathe inside the washing machine when it's on?

Edvin:

Edvin: ...where is Jesper?

[nelyos-right-hand]

I've been reading post-reembodiement fics lately, and Fëanor trying to fix his relationship with his sons/ making amends for his mistakes is a pretty common occurrence in them.

Whenever that happens Curufin is almost always the first to forgive his father, and if Fëanor starts to make stupid choices again, he is often the first to support him.

And I see why many people see it that way. In the Silm, Celegorm and Curufin are their father's strongest supporters and the most ruthless when it comes to following their oath. Curufin is also described to be Fëanor Junior and they probably had a very close relationship.

But what if that changes after the first age?

Through the entire first age, Curufin continued to believe in the oath and their father. Sure, the others followed the oath as well, but I don't think that any of them did it because they actually believed in it.

Maedhros did it because Fingon was dead and he had stopped caring. Maglor, Caranthir and the Ambarussar did it because the oath was driving them. Celegorm did it because he was no longer sane and wanted revenge and bloodshed. He did it because he was hurting and now it was time for others to hurt.

But Curufin still did it for Fëanor. Because yes, right now things were looking pretty bad, but in the end everything would turn out fine. They were going to get the Silmaril, and then they were going to defeat Morgoth, fulfill their oath and make their father proud. Things were still going according to plan. Curufin himself might be unable to see it right now, but that's just because Fëanor was a genius. He had planned for this because he wouldn't have made them swear the oath if he hadn't, right? Everything was gonna be fine, all he had to do was trust his father.

But then suddenly he turned around just in time to see Dior drive his sword through Celegorm's chest. And he didn't even have time to process that because in the next moment he was hit by an arrow, and another, and another, and another.

Curufin didn't live very long after that, maybe two or three seconds. But in that time he realized something.

Things were not going according to plan. They couldn't because there was no plan. Fëanor didn't have any idea what he was doing when he swore the oath. And he most certainly didn't have his sons' welfare in mind at that moment.

They wouldn't get the Silmarils, not even one of them. They wouldn't fulfill the oath and they wouldn't defeat Morgoth. They wouldn't even survive.

Celegorm was dead and Curufin was dying and their other brothers would die soon too, and it would all be for nothing. He had spend the last five-hundred years believing in and fighting for a purpose that wasn't even a real purpose but the fantasies of a dead madman.

He had been betrayed by the person he loved most and now he would die for him.

(Hint-Celebrimbor-hint)

(Alright, so Fëanor didn't actually betray Curufin because that would mean that he did it on purpose or that he had any ill intentions towards him. That, of course, wasn't the case because Fëanor did love his sons dearly, he just, you know, went absolutely mad after Finwë's death. Curufin just feels betrayed because he is dying and stuff.)

So back in Valinor Curufin has the most trouble forgiving his father. That surprises Fëanor as much as the rest of the family cause it kind of contradicts his actions in his previous life but maybe death does that to people.

In the end he does forgive him of course, but it takes some time to fix their relationship and it takes way longer for him to trust Fëanor again then it did for the rest of his sons.

These are just some loose thoughts cause it's the middle of the night and I'm bored but I think it's interesting because it's different from what we usually see of Curufin.

[eleneressea]

Fingon: I'm not sure whether or not I want kids

Maedhros, holding Ambarussar: hello!

Fingon: I want twenty kids—

[doodle-pops]

Hi Mina, sending you an ask :) I was wondering if you ever decided what Amrod and Amras’ crafts were?

Howdy 👋

I do enjoy the idea of the twins having crafts similar to Nerdanel. I have Amrod into woodcarving apart from a hunter, a little something he took after mummy Nerdanel with her sculpting. Just imagine him carving mini sculptures for his family or partner.

As for Amras, I'd throw him in with being a hunter like Tyelko. I once had the idea of him being a lover of cooking like Maedhros and into knitting/crocheting like Caranthir. He isn't the best at it, but he enjoys making little figures of his family. They like to compete between each other to see who can make the most accurate look-alike of their brothers.

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

The Sons of Fëanor behind closed doors

Author’s note: A collection of random intimate moments between you and your favorite Fëanorian. Part 1/? There will definitely be more parts to this!

-

Caranthir

Carnistir always runs warm

It doesn’t matter how cold it is outside, his temperature never seems to drop. Must be his blood cuz its boiling  

In the evening, you’ll find him looking through the bookshelves in your chambers, thinking about which one he’s going to read to you

This is a routine you have established quite early on, him being a bookworm and you loving the sound of his voice and storytelling abilities 

He always comes back to join you right when your feet start getting cold. The second he sits down beside you, you bury them underneath his legs, certified personal heater 

He shudders at the coldness and shoots you an annoyed look, scolding you about how you should put on socks. 

"You’re going to catch a cold." 

"Not when I have you right here!" You grin and are met with him rolling his eyes 

When he opens the book, you throw your arms around his neck and look over his shoulder, waiting for him to start reading, but he just seems to be flipping through the pages aimlessly, too distracted by your sudden proximity

His face grows redder with every second

You snuggle into his hot cheek, and he feels you smile against his skin.

How is he supposed to focus?? Manz is flustered

"You do remember where we left off, right?" You ask teasingly, he just clears his throat and mutters something about chapter three. When he finally finds the chapter he lets out a breath he seemed to be holding forever 

Is it hot in here? Nope, just Cara’s body temperature which is off the charts by now 

There’s something about his reading voice, the way it sounds soft like a velvet blanket, yet so sharp

And though you’d love to listen to the story, the exhaustion takes over you, leaving you half asleep on his shoulder near the chapter’s end

He puts down the book and rests his head against yours for a moment, secretly smiling to himself in pure bliss before gently picking you up and carrying you to bed

Eru, the things you do to him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way 

Maedhros

This gentle giant loves it when you play with his hands

He noticed a long time ago how fidgety you would get whenever something was making you nervous

Your anxiety shows itself in you cracking your knuckles, playing with the rings on your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your clothing 

Sometimes, however, you wouldn’t have anything to help reduce your anxiety 

He made it a habit to look for that twitch in your fingers, and whenever that happens, he just takes your hands into his

And since his hands are significantly larger than yours, it would only take one of them to encapsulate both of yours, and squeeze them reassuringly (we’re obviously talking pre-oath here oop) while the other tends to whatever it is he was doing before

Although open displays of affection are frowned upon, he considers your comfort more important than the judgement he would receive 

Let’s be real, nobody would dare to ever voice their disapproval. It’s Maedhros they’re talking to, zero fucks given here

This morning, you have been sitting next to Mai in a meeting for the longest time when one of the attendees decides to criticize some of the contributions you have made earlier. You freeze. Heart starts beating impossibly fast at the tone of his voice, pointed and condescending. Eru. Do you answer? Are you supposed to answer?! He’s looking right at you. Eruerueru-

The second Mai’s hand finds yours under the table, the tension leaves your body. 

You take it with an urgency he recognizes all too well. One of your hands holds on to his wrist while the fingers on your other one intertwine themselves with his, your thumb drawing hectic circles into his cool skin. Your grip on his wrist tightens at times and you take deep breaths, trying to remain in control 

You let go of his wrist and trace the veins on the back of his hand, trying to memorize the way his skin feels on yours, before you turn his hand around in your lap and do the same thing with the lines on his palm

His hand is relaxed in your grip, gradually transferring some of that energy to you

He’s just so tall and self assured — the complete opposite of your current state — you could find solace in his presence alone if it weren’t for your itching fingers 

Your movements become slower the longer you stay in contact with him

It’s like his fëa gathers in his hand, knowing you need it to touch you directly to come to your senses

And so the rush wears off, eventually the attendee stops talking and you are able to form a response that is just coherent enough to be said out loud in this setting

And as a result of your bond and the indemmar emerging from it, Maitimo proceeds to expand your argument in his own words, closing the case gracefully as ever without letting anything show 

You don’t know what you’d do without him, especially in situations like these 

Maglor

Contrary to popular belief, Makalaurë is a clumsy individual 

You have to give that to him, his mind seems to be running nonstop, I imagine him to always be on the edge of sensory overload — just look at the world around you, how could you not want to capture every single aspect of it in poetry and song? 

So, naturally, he’s not always fully present, at least not when he’s scribbling things on paper

You can tell whether to talk to him or leave him to his affairs by the way he’s sitting, the speed and loudness of the quill on his paper.

The more he hunches his back, the more he squints his eyes, chews on his lower lip, the messier his handwriting appears, the jerkier he moves the quill — that’s when you know not to disturb him

Although sometimes, you yourself are quite preoccupied and forget about it

"LAURË!" you call out as you burst into his room, feet stomping on the wooden planks so enthusiastically their creaking could be mistaken for a cat screaming after having been stepped on its tail 

Poor Laurë is so startled, he jumps out of his skin, dies and is reborn all at once

The quill in his hand slides across the paper with the sudden movement of his arm and, yikes, the ink pot is sent flying along with pieces of parchment

He yells, eyes wide, hands in the air, frozen in place, a literal deer in the headlights

You stop dead in your tracks and cover your mouth in shock, immediately regretting your loud entry

"ERU, Y/N, DON’T DO THIS TO ME" "I’M SO SORRY!!" "WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!" "I DON’T KNOW!!"

The last piece of paper lands on the ground, the air settles down and only then do you see the damage — splotches of ink are littered all over his desk and notes, his hands and sleeves. He sits there, with his upper body turned towards you, staring at his work on the floor, slowly breaking out of his state of shock and moving to pick it up with shaky hands

You hate to admit it to yourself, but he’s so unintentionally funny with his big eyes and startled movements. You can see how he’s trying to coordinate his thoughts again as his hands reach for each piece of paper below, sometimes grabbing the air instead of the actual object 

Somebody help this man

And Eru forbid, when he sees the spilled ink on his notes, he goes through all the stages of grief right in front of your eyes and you feel even worse for the laughter that’s bubbling up inside of you

He’s like a sloth, slowly collecting his belongings with calculating eyes

You hastily step to his side and help him arrange everything on the desk, then proceed to get a washcloth to wipe away the spilled ink

When you’re finished, you are met with judgemental eyes 

"I’m sorry, I’m really sorry," you manage to get out before the laughter bursts out of you. Laurë huffs and before you know it, his blue fingertips smear the leftover ink across your face

"Hey!" you yelp when he picks you up and carries you outside

If it weren’t for the loud breath he lets out through his nose, you would have thought he was really mad at you, but he just puts you back down, trying his hardest to hide his smile upon seeing the blue lines on your face 

"I’ll just come back later," you purse your lips and look up at him. He shakes his head at the mischievous twinkle in your eyes before leaning down to kiss the top of your head and then slamming the door in your face lol 

Celegorm

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that Tyelko loves nature

You, on the other hand, have certain things you’d prefer to stay away from, such as spiders 

And as much as you love him, his "conquer your fear" mindset is anything but dear to you. You’re a firm believer of respecting people’s fears and not forcing them to change that, whereas he thinks practically and doesn’t always consider your thoughts, such as right now

He came running into your room when he had heard you scream in fear, ready to attack whatever was threatening you, or so he thought 

So there you are, standing on a chair, pointing at the spider in his hand

"Tyelkormo, I swear on my life, if you come any closer-" 

"Y/N, you can’t be serious, it’s tiny." "I don’t care!" You yell, slowly stepping down from the chair and backing up

He smirks "You can’t be that scared, love" 

And all the alarms in your head go off when he steps closer to you, spider enclosed in his hand that is extended towards you

When your back hits the wall, you know you’re done for

"Tyelko-" "Just look at it!" He laughs at your reaction, knowing he won’t actually do anything. Deep down, you know it too, but he just loves to poke fun at you and you fall for it every single time

You think he'd leave it at that, but he actually dares to open his hand and of course, the spider jumps out in a frenzy, beginning to rope itself down from the palm of his hand

And you SCREAM, poor Tyelko actually has to cover his ears that's what he gets

The spider hurries away into some corner and you make a leap for the bed, grab a pillow and throw it at Tyelko, yelling at him to take it outside

When he finally does, your rage is still very much present and you take another pillow from behind you and hit him repeatedly

"Don't-" hit. "you-" hit. "ever-" hit. "do-" hit. "that-" hit. "again-" hit. "do-" hit. "you-" hit. "understand-" hit. "you're so annoying!!!"

He's obviously unfazed, if anything his smirk has grown even bigger

His arms snake around your waist and pull you close, cradling your head in his hand

"Did you seriously think I was going to let that spider harm you? You're so easy to tease, love"

Curufin

"Close your eyes," he instructs softly before carefully placing the item in your hands. He spent hours working on this, both scared and excited for your reaction

When he tells you to open your eyes again, they fall on a set of beautiful earrings. But that's not what makes you tear up!

Months ago, you had mentioned how much you missed the color of forget-me-nots in the winter time. It was a silly little thought you had voiced on a leisurely stroll with him on a rather cold morning, not expecting him to actually take it to heart like this

But here you are, in your hand these rose gold earrings, shaped like forget-me-nots, with little shimmering gems in the center — the same color as your favorite spring flower.

"Curufin!" you gasp, looking up at him

He just smiles and for the first time ever, he looks flustered, bashful, even

He's always so calm, stoic and levelheaded. To see him deliver a gesture like this is unusual to say the least

"Here, let me help you put them on," he gently takes the earrings out of your hands with his calloused fingers

You notice a band-aid on his left index finger, did he hurt himself when crafting these?

Once the earrings are on, you step in front of the mirror and Eru, the smile that blooms on your face almost makes his heart stop

Curvo was never one to display a lot of emotion, he just never deemed it necessary

But seeing you touched like this made him question what was so bad about letting his guard down sometimes

Especially when you would look at him, and his heart would erupt into a million tiny butterflies upon the effects of his gesture

Amrod

You're sat on the wooden fence framing the fields close to your estate, watching the cows

The sun is just about to set and you catch yourself staring at him

"Is there something on my face?" he suddenly asks and raises his eyebrows, you're caught in the act

Quick, think of something to save yourself from the embarrassment!!! Or else he'll never stop teasing you about this!!!

So you flick his forehead and watch him open his mouth in protest

"Hey!" "What are you gonna do, Pityo?"

You stick your tongue out and jump down into the high grass, watching him do the same, ready to follow you for some revenge

The air is quiet, and the first fireflies are already buzzing around the fields when he starts chasing you through the flowers

Your giggles and screams make the cows raise their heads one by one, disturbed by these two strange creatures running around them

Usually, Amrod knows not to run too close to the cows as it would agitate them, but he's just too caught up in the way your laughter tickles his pointed ears and the way your h/c hair flows in the wind — he doesn't notice one of them standing closer to him than he has anticipated

So yeah, poor unfortunate Pityo bumps into that cow. And he stumbles. And falls. And when he realizes what he's fallen into, he yells. And when you realize what he's fallen into, he's done for

"NO WAY!!!!" "STOP"

He gets up and looks down at his linen shirt which is now an earthy, lovely shade of brown

When you come closer, you see the blush on his cheeks, his ears growing redder and redder

"Not a word to my brothers!" he warns, pointing his finger at you

"What do I get in return?" you ask and clasp your hands in front of your body, a shit-eating grin on your face pun intended

He looks around helplessly, trying to come up with something to keep you from running off to tell everyone about this mishap

He just huffs in defeat, shoulders slacking "I'll do whatever you want, just don't tell them."

You don't know why, but seeing him at your mercy like this makes you feel bolder than usual

"Kiss me." It's a short and sweet proposal.

You can see in his face that he's expected anything but this, because manz GASPS and is frozen in place

He's been crushing on you for quite some time, and the two of you certainly shared a cheeky bond, constantly teasing each other in a loving way, but kissing you???

He's at a loss for words and just stares at you in disbelief, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to reply but failing miserably

You've never seen him so flustered when he usually has a snarky comeback for every situation. He's so cute.

You carefully take a few steps closer to him until you're a few centimetres apart and look up at him with a timid smile, waiting for his reaction. And he gazes into your eyes with a newfound vulnerability that makes your heart beat a lot faster than it already does

And when he finally makes up his mind and decides to go for it, the sun has set

His lips hover over yours before softly laying themselves upon yours like a secret in the dark, only to be whispered aloud in your presence

Amras

"Telvo, I'm really tired, how much longer do we have to walk?" you ask, the ache in your feet is almost unbearable at this point

He came into your room this morning, asking you to accompany him on his quest to find mushrooms to try an old recipe for a stew he had found in the library

You don't know how many times he's already come knocking at your door demanding your help for the most trivial things, but you comply every time, you just can't help it. Some of your best adventures are made with him

So there you are, wandering along the path leading back to your home, your apron full of mushrooms of all kind, Telvo walking in front of you with that bounce in his step indicating his good mood

"We're almost there, look!" He points towards the house on the edge of the valley you're passing through, although it's a bit too far for your liking

You groan, stumbling over a root sticking out from beneath you and having the mushrooms tumble all over the ground

"Oh no..." you sigh, looking up at your companion who's surprised at your exhaustion

"Are you alright? I'm sorry if I made you walk too much!" He stammers, crouching to pick up the mushrooms and put them back into your apron, which you had folded into a makeshift bag

Once they're all in there, he turns his back to you and gestures for you to hop on, which you do gladly

"Y/N, Y/N, you're spending too much time indoors. Look at how exhausted you are!" he snickers and resumes his trip towards your house. You just snuggle into his shoulder and blow into his ear

"Not everyone can run around in the forest all day, you know?" to which he just shakes his head and laughs

Once you're inside, you begin to prepare the stew, bickering and joking around all the while

"Eru, hopefully this will taste good. Where did you even find that recipe?"

He tells you about a collection of old, dusty books hidden away in his father's library. Some traveller had devised this recipe a long time ago. It's said to warm you from within with its unique taste. You could listen to his rambling for hours. He's always had a talent for discovering the most random things and taking them straight to you, his partner in crime and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Once the stew is done, you dig in, and who would have thought? A blissful warmth spreads throughout your bodies, caressing your bellies and putting satisfied smiles onto your faces

"Told you it was gonna taste good," he mumbles and winks, beckoning you to come and sit next to him so you could enjoy the incoming food coma together

He really is full of peculiar ideas, your beloved redhead

[polutrope]

WAIT Curufin/Melkor? Can we hear anything more about that or is it a surprise? 👀

(Also for @swanhild)

So Melkor is clearly obsessed with Feanor, right? But "none of the Eldalie ever hated Melkor more than Feanor son of Finwe, who first named him Morgoth; and snared though he was in the webs of Melkor’s malice against the Valar he held no converse with him and took no counsel from him," not to mention, "he shut the doors of his house in the face of the mightiest of all the dwellers in Ea."

Enter Curufinwe Atarinke. He looks like Feanor, he has Feanor's creative talents, and he's dearest to Feanor. Sure, he's no Feanor, he's never going be enough for Melkor, but he can pretend. And he can hurt Feanor in the process.

Now, Melkor doesn't have to do much sleuthing to discover that the youngest of five (no Ambarussar yet) is also ripe for exploitation in the guise of romance. Even if he just did marry Erdalos and even if their marriage looks very heteronormative and Fine from the outside, Curufin's never dealt with the internalised homophobia and emotional abuse he suffered in his first relationship with one of Maglor's "friends". Not that he's ever told anyone any of this. No, no. He must keep it to himself, he must not show any weakness, he's Father's Favourite, he will show everyone how perfect he is. He will.

And you can probably see how the stage is set for a dark, corrupting relationship between Curufin and He Who Arises in Might, greatest of the dwellers of Ea, who gets it, Curvo, really, he does. He gets what you're going through, because he's also The Father's favourite (or he should be) and he's been through it with his brethren, too, and he knows what it's like to be misunderstood, and no, of course there's no shame in desiring another male, in fact Melkor will show you... Oh! No. No, Curvo, dearest, that particular desire... no no, that one is shameful. But it's okay, it's okay dear, Melkor won't tell anyone if you don't tell them about us. But you know what you should tell your father? That his half-brother is plotting to usurp his place.

So uh, yeah. The main arc will probably end with the Darkening and the beginning of Curufin's villain arc.

Something to write in the depths of winter :)

[lamemaster]

Trade Worth an Afternoon

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Nolofinwean + Celegorm x Sister Reader

Summary: Ambarussar = 1 Y/n?

AN: My soul said, "WRITE THIS SHIT RN!!"

“Hmm why yes Celgorm, of course, we can come to an agreement,” Aredhel drawled carefully, her voice laced with amusement as she glanced away from where you and Argon sat, engrossed in your toys.  Her eyes twinkled with mischief, a stark contrast to the seriousness of the "trade negotiations" she was proposing.

Stifling a laugh that threatened to erupt, Celegorm replied, playing along.  “2 Ambrussa for 1 y/n.  That is fair trade, Aredhel.”  His voice held a hint of playful arrogance, knowing full well the absurdity of bartering with children.

The mention of your name pierced through your concentration, and you looked up from your game of blocks with wide, curious eyes.  Argon, ever the follower, followed suit, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are right, perhaps,” Aredhel conceded with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she turned her attention to you directly.  “What do you think, little y/n?  Do you want to become Celegorm’s sister?”

A small patter of feet echoed across the polished stone floor as both you and Argon scrambled towards your sister and cousin. “No. I am your sister,” you declared bluntly, your voice clear and unwavering.

“Yes, y/n is our sister,” Argon parroted, his voice echoing yours in a perfect unison.  The pair of you, oblivious to the undercurrent of amusement between your elders, stood side-by-side, a united front against this unexpected proposition.

Pulling Argon into a playful embrace, Aredhel feigned a dramatic sigh.  “But you have a sister, me.  Now Celegorm and his brothers don’t have one.  Why don’t we share, just like amil taught us?” 

Argon, ever his mother’s pet and easily swayed by her gentle words, was instantly caught in a moral dilemma.  His brow furrowed as he deliberated, torn between wanting to please both his mother and his best friend.  “No… but,” he stammered, his voice laden with worry as he looked back at you with a helpless expression.

You, however, were not so easily swayed.  You set your jaw with a determination that belied your age and glared at Celegorm, who was trying his best to stifle another laugh.  “I won’t go,” you declared fiercely. 

Celegorm, caught off guard by your outburst, hoisted you into his arms with a playful rumble.  "And why not, y/n?" he teased, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You flailed your limbs in protest, the urge to pull his hair warring with the ticklish sensation his leather cuffs sent against your skin.

"Finno and Turu won't allow this!" you sputtered, glaring back at him with narrowed eyes.  "And ata loves me more than Aredhel!"  This last declaration was more of a desperate hope than a statement of fact, but it served its purpose. Aredhel's smile faltered for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to annoyance crossing her features.

As for Argon, the very notion of being separated from you sent him into a silent panic.  He looked mortified at the idea of sharing his room with the rambunctious Fëanorian twins, even more mortified at the prospect of leaving his unfinished drawing and the half-built block castle behind.  With a whimper, he tugged on Aredhel's sleeve, his lower lip trembling.  "No, y/n is my sister," he echoed your words, shaking his head vehemently as if denying the very possibility of the trade.

"Uncle Nolofinwe and my father already agreed," Celegorm declared smugly, a broad grin splitting his face. "Unfortunately, y/n, you will be now our sister."

His words hit you like a thunderbolt. Your eyes widened in shock, threatening to spill tears at any moment. "No!" you cried, your voice trembling like a leaf in a winter wind. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "I'm Argon's sister! We promised Amil we'd finish building our castle together! And besides," you hiccuped, rubbing your eyes "Ambarussar are too big for my bed. They won't fit!"

Argon, mirroring your distress, began to wail. He clung to Aredhel, his tiny fists clutching at her tunic. "No! No y/n go!" he sobbed, his voice thick with tears.

"And when my brothers and I return from our next adventure," Celegorm continued adding fuel to the fire in his chaotic ways, "y/n will come with us.”

Argon, his lower lip trembling, clutched you desperately. His only playmate, his confidante. Galadriel was too smart to play with on normal days. 

The room erupted in chaos. You, fueled by a sudden surge of adrenaline, wriggled free from Celegorm's surprised grasp.  "Never!" you screamed, bolting towards the nearest exit. 

Argon, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, followed close behind, his small legs pumping furiously.

Fingolfin, his face a mask of thunder, stood before Aredhel and Celegorm, both of whom shuffled uncharacteristically on their feet. The usual twinkle in their eyes was replaced with a dull sheepishness.

"What did you do?"  Fingolfin's voice boomed.

"Well..." Aredhel began, her usual silver tongue failing her.  Celegorm, notorious for his smooth talk, coughed awkwardly, unable to meet Fingolfin's steely gaze.

And for once both Aeredhel and Celegorm were at a loss for their words. The prank…perhaps had been too harsh. The flushed faces of both Fingon and Turgon, who had spent the entire evening looking both you both were enough to answer that it indeed had been too much. 

And thus, the product of their prank lay in Fingolfin and Anaire's laps. Both you and Argon slept peacefully, your faces streaked with tears that had dried on your cheeks.

"Aredhel," Turgon's voice was a low rumble, devoid of its usual playful teasing. "We scoured the entire city for y/n and Argon. The entire afternoon."  His gaze, usually warm, was now icy with disapproval.

Fingon, his hand resting protectively on your head, patted Turgon's arm in a silent plea for calm.  "What did you even say for them to hide so fiercely?" he asked, his voice stern but tinged with relief.  "They ran away the moment they saw me and Turgon, then vanished for the entire day." Fingon usually retained the position of the most loved sibling for all Nolofinwean siblings.

"Y/n even hid all her belongings, and neither of them showed up for their evening snacks."

This last detail struck a deeper chord.  Evening snacks with Fingolfin were a cherished ritual for the younger members of the family, a time for stories and laughter.  That they would skip it willingly was a testament to the terror they must have felt.

“It was merely a jest,” Aredhel tries to weasel her way out of the situation. 

"A jest?" Turgon echoed, his voice tight with contained fury. "An entire afternoon of frantic searching constitutes a jest to you, Aredhel?"

Anaire, her face pale with worry, finally spoke. "They haven't said a word since we found them," she said, her voice trembling slightly.  "They were huddled together under their bed sobbing hysterically. What did you do to them?"

"We told them that we were going to trade y/n for the twins," Aredhel admitted, her voice barely a whisper. 

The room fell silent for a beat, thick with tension that quickly dissolved into an eruption of laughter. Fingon and Fingolfin, unable to contain themselves, doubled over, snorting with amusement. Even Anaire, despite her initial glare, found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Finwe's crooked humor, it seemed, wasn't lost on his bloodline.

"Oh, my poor darlings," Anaire cooed, leaning down to kiss your and Argon's foreheads, a soft smile gracing her features. "That must have been terrifying. But you two managed to hide quite well.” While both the said, elflings barely stirred in their sleep.

Aredhel, relieved by the shift in atmosphere, puffed out her chest with a hint of pride. "They were! We even had them convinced Uncle Curufinwe and Ata were in on it."

Before she could revel in her mischievousness any further, Turgon, ever the serious one, swatted her playfully on the back of the head.

And that is how the infamous story of trading siblings came to be in the Finwean clan. One that often left a sputtering mess of Celegorm and Aredhel. And a slightly offended Ambarussar.