#but Nienor was able to get to Doriath anyway

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Brushstrokes

AO3

2118 words

“Ugh!” Nienor drops her brush, and it hits the table with a clatter, rolling off and under the desk.

She stares at the easel, her brows drawn together tightly in frustration. She cannot get the princess’s portrait right. This time she swears the eyes are too far apart, and no matter how hard she tries the gold of her hair is never vivid enough.

As she walks over and bends down, trying to reach her runaway brush, the door opens. Nienor hurriedly clambers to her feet and comes face to face with the subject of her painting.

“Princess Finduilas!” Nienor quickly brushes the dust and dirt off the front of her dress and attempts to wipe away the worst of the paint smudges on her face. “Good day to you.”

Finduilas smiles widely at her. “Good day, Lady Nienor. I am glad to find you here! I had hoped to come and ask you something. Is now a good time?”

Nienor walks back over to her stool and stares at the ground. “Is it about your portrait?” She says quietly. “I am trying to get it finished as swiftly as possible, my lady.”

Finduilas sounds surprised. “Oh, no, it isn’t about that at all. Although you have reminded me how excited I am for it! I saw the one you did for Lady Egleriadis, and I am sure it will be just as beautiful.”

Nienor feels herself becoming angry, but she isn’t sure at what. “Well, I am sorry, but it likely won’t be.”

There is a pause. “Should I be insulted?” Finduilas laughs. “Is my face difficult to render pleasantly?”

Nienor does not return her good humour. “You are too lovely, Princess.” She exclaims in annoyance. “Even the paints of the Noldor cannot sufficiently capture the radiance of your hair or the brightness of your eyes. Every time I try, the imitation seems insulting!”

There is a long silence, and the air seems hotter. Nienor feels embarrassed and stifled, and looks determinedly at anything but Finduilas. She should not have said that.

“I beg your pardon, my lady. I am not sure what came over me. Do not worry, your portrait will be completed promptly.” She leaves the room and half runs down the stairs, without giving Finduilas a chance to reply.

Nienor stares out at the plains around Nargothrond and lets the rush of the river fill her ears. The weather is fair today and a fresh breeze is coming from the west. But the season will change soon and before that she must return to Doriath. She sighs heavily and rubs at her eyes. She does not know why she dislikes the idea so, after all she does very much want to see her mother.

Well, that is not quite true. If she is honest with herself, she can make a good guess at why she longs to stay in Nargothrond.

“Hello, Nienor. Do you mind if I intrude on your peace?”

She turns, surprised, and there is Finduilas, smiling at her hesitantly, the sun picking out the whitest strands of her hair.

“No, I do not mind at all. And I think I owe you an apology.”

Finduilas draws up next to her and shakes her head. “I cannot imagine what for, my lady. All I heard was the true compliment of one who has an eye for beauty.”

Nienor glances at her sideways and smiles. “Thank you. Like all craftspeople, when I cannot replicate the image I see in my mind’s eye, I become a little frustrated.”

The princess nods. “That is fair, and a trait not uncommon among my people.” She turns to face Nienor. “When you are stressed, do you often seek the open air? I had assumed as one who resided mostly in Menegroth, you would have little trouble with the caverns of Nargothrond.”

Nienor sighs and looks away from her, towards the horizon in the north. They are not entirely alone; the guards who accompanied her out the Gate stand a little way away, joined by Finduilas’. But she feels secure in the safety of the princess’s confidence, and she wants to tell her.

“I am thankful for the beauty and protection of both kingdoms. But where I grew up, our freedom was heavily restricted. I could not go outside when I wished, and even crying too loudly was dangerous.” She smiles bitterly. “I learnt early on the benefit of screaming into a pillow.”

Finduilas is quiet. Nienor digs the heel of her shoe into the soft, mossy earth.

“So yes, when I feel my temper rising, open skies often do calm me, and I take joy in my easy access to them.”

“I am sorry you had to suffer such confinement. One so fair being cruelly contained is a great wrong.”

The princess’s words are kind and understanding, and Nienor feels warmer for them. But she detects an undercurrent in them as well, and when she turns to Finduilas, she is staring unseeing, ahead.

Nienor moves slightly closer to her, so their shoulders are brushing. “I believe you had something you desired to ask me?”

“Oh, yes!” Finduilas bestows her golden smile on her. “I am aware the time of your departure is no longer far off and that the plan had been you return to Doriath before the end of autumn.”

Nienor nods.

“Well, I wanted to ask that you do not leave until spring instead. I know your mother and friends must miss you dearly, but I thought to selfishly have you here over winter.” Nienor notices the princess’s cheeks have gone slightly pink.

“I have so enjoyed your company these months and conversing with you on many matters. Oh, and we have such a lovely celebration for Yestarë! I had planned to teach you some Noldorin dances.”

Finduilas falls quiet and smiles hopefully at her. Nienor thinks she is probably grinning back, but she can’t be sure as she feels rather lightheaded and distracted by joy.

“That would be… that would –” She shakes her head, laughs, then tries again. “I am so happy you ask this of me, which I will fulfil with delight. Yes, my lady, I will stay here for as long as the maiden of Nargothrond will have me.”

The princess reaches out and entwines their fingers. “That brings me great happiness, Nienor, thank you.”

Nienor smiles and squeezes her hand in answer.

“Of course,” says Finduilas after a moment. “It is only so you can finish my portrait.”

The princess’s eyes are bright with mirth, and Nienor wishes she had her paint and easel, so she could capture that face, as it is right now, forever.

She laughs. “Yes, of course. I can think of no other reason.”

The hour is late and Nienor knows the dinner bell will be ringing soon but she must finish this section. She had been so sure that once she blended the shadows on Finduilas’ neck, it would fix its length, but she is beginning to have serious doubts.

“I can hear you getting frustrated from all the way over here.”

Nienor glances across the room to where Finduilas sits, working on some embroidery. Without looking up the princess continues, “I thought it was going better?”

Nienor sighs and then looks at the half-finished painting. This time around it had seemed so promising but now… She lets out a string of Taliska curses.

“Bëor only said those when he dropped something heavy on his foot.”

Finduilas’ expression is amused, but when she is met with brooding silence, she sighs and says, “You must be aware it isn’t as bad as you think it is. The artist is their own worst critic.”

Nienor scowls. She knows she is being contrary, but she can’t help it. It feels as if she has been working on this portrait for an eternity. Last time she went outside the leaves had turned to deep reds and ambers.

“I think Morgoth has cursed it.”

“That is not funny.” Finduilas replies seriously, but Nienor sees her lips are twitching.

“Come here,” the princess says, and Nienor walks over and slides in next to her on the divan. She curls up close, leans her head on Finduilas’ shoulder and sighs.

After a few moments of quiet and Finduilas gently massaging her tired hands, she says, “I do not even know why Elves have portraits. You will always look the same.”

Finduilas laughs and pokes her shoulder. “Well, I am not sure why Men do! You will look different in a year anyhow. I am surprised your people don’t spend their days painting.”

“I would have said we might be happier if we did, but now I’m not so sure.”

She can feel Finduilas’ soft chuckle where their bodies touch and the tight knot of annoyance in her chest loosens a little. Nienor watches the fire. The change of the seasons is not felt in some ways, in the deep of Nargothrond. But it is colder now than when she arrived.

After a while, just as Nienor feels herself becoming drowsy, Finduilas speaks. “Perhaps I am glad you are struggling with my picture so. What would you think if I told you that?”

She twists so she can see the princess’s face and raises her brows. “I would wonder if I had done something to upset you.”

“You have not.” Finduilas frowns and she automatically reaches out to smooth the lines away, but the princess catches her hand and holds it tightly. “You were right when you said the Eldar stay like our portraits forever. Yet I am thankful, for it means you have forever to keep trying. Then if you keep failing, Nienor dearest, it makes me dream that perhaps you will stay here, forever with the subject.”

Nienor does not know how to respond and there is a lump in her throat.

After a few silent seconds she says, rather helplessly, “You believe it will take me until the breaking of the world to complete one picture?”

That had been an attempt at humour, Nienor thinks. But as she speaks the words and sees the flicker of grief in Finduilas’ eyes, the effect is lost even on her. She exhales and tries to work out how best to communicate what she wishes to say.

“Because I do not have the same forever as you, beloved. If it takes me until the end of my time in Arda to finish your portrait, it matters not. For there will come a day when you and it remain exactly the same, and even my bones are dust.”

Finduilas’ eyes are shining, and she attempts to pull her hand away. But Nienor holds on and presses it to her lips.

“And that image feels me with bittersweet joy! It makes my heart ache, but it is joy, nonetheless. The idea of my love for you lingering on, here and beyond the edges of the world, where I will take it. That is forever, enough, for me.”

Finduilas’ voice comes out a little choked as she says, “I would not need a portrait to remember the artist. There are not ages of this world long enough for me to forget her.”

Nienor smiles. “Good. And it means a great deal to me that you wish me to stay. I am happy beyond words about it, beloved, please do not let my morbidity confuse you!”

The princess chuckles wetly and Nienor pulls her into an embrace.

After a few moments of playing absentmindedly with Finduilas’ escaped hair, Nienor starts to grin.

“Darling! Perhaps you gave me luck with all your talk of taking forever. For I have thought of an excellent way for me to work towards improving my painting.”

“Oh?” Finduilas pulls back and looks at her shrewdly, eyes narrowed.

Nienor bites her lip hard to keep from laughing and nods seriously. “You see, although you have been generously modelling for me, even skilled artists like myself, often feel unfulfilled by a still, fixed subject.”

“Do they?” Finduilas raises an eyebrow.

“Yes! For it does not tell us so much of what is important. The feel of features, textures, how they look in certain positions, and it is very hard to get close enough…”

The princess laughs. “Oh my, Nienor! You are awful.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she protests. “Perhaps it is all this time spent with the Noldor. I will do anything to elevate my craft.”

“And pray tell, what sacrifice did you have in mind in this case?”

“Well…” Nienor leans in and presses her lips to Finduilas’. She feels the princess smile and deepens the kiss, pressing her into the cushions.

[fandomblr]

Ableism in The Children of Húrin

I just recently talked about racism in Tolkien’s legendarium, and now I want to talk about ableism. Most of Tolkien’s characters are (presumably) able-bodied with the exception of Beren and Maedhros (who are both hand amputees), but another disabled character that I don’t think gets talked about enough is Brandir from the tale of The Children of Húrin. Here’s my textual evidence from HoME—The Shaping of Middle-Earth:

Brandir is clearly described as “lame of foot” since he was wounded by an orc as a child, which leads me to assume that he had some sort of mobility impairment in his feet like I do (I wear a foot orthotic). Clearly Brandir isn’t able-bodied in the sense that Túrin and other men are, since he yielded the rule of the woodfolk to him precisely to his disability. This all contributes to the idea that disabled people are incapable of becoming leaders, that we can’t hold positions of power, etc. But probably the most ableist part of this is when Tolkien says that he was “of less might than many.” Since Tolkien doesn’t list any other reasons for Brandir being of less might other than him being disabled this leaves me with the impression that he was “less of might” precisely because of his foot impairment, which is clearly ableist.

Now, like I said, Tolkien has had other characters that can be interpreted as disabled (Maedhros and Beren) and while they can be seen as positive representation, this still doesn’t really erase the fact that Brandir was portrayed ultimately as weak, as incapable of leading, and as unworthy of a woman’s (Nienor’s) love, plus he ends up dead which is rarely a good ending to have for a disabled character anyways. These are all harmful stereotypes that lots of people believe about disabled people, and these still clearly impact us today as disabled people.

And yes, Tolkien lived in a different time in which disability was viewed differently (he lived through World War II in which Nazis were literally trying to sterilize us because we were seen as ‘not contributing to society’) but at the end of the day Brandir’s story is pretty ableist. However, what’s interesting is that if Nienor had fallen in love with Brandir instead of Túrin, then neither she nor Túrin would have committed suicide, and it’s plausible that then Húrin may not have given Thingol the cursed gold and nauglamir out of spite, which contributed to the ruin of Doriath and ultimately in the second and third kinslayings involving the nauglamir with the silmaril. So even though this story is ableist, maybe Tolkien here was trying to convey a hidden meaning against this ableism, that there’s more to appearances and that if Nienor had chosen Brandir, an uncursed man (unlike Túrin who is arguably the most cursed character in Tolkien’s legendarium) that simply happens to be disabled, then the history of middle earth may have been just a little less bloody. Just some food for thought.

Again, I highly encourage other disabled folks to speak on this and see what their interpretations are! I’m always down to discuss social justice topics and how they relate to Tolkien’s work.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

On Forgiveness and Redemption

This is a pretty fundamental theme in a lot of Silmarillion fanfic and in the fandom generally, and one of major interest to me, so I wanted to try to pull together some of my thoughts on it. This is specifically in relation to Tolkien’s works - in the real world there can be all kinds of addititional sociopolitical dimensions that are too much to get into here.

In my view, there are two main elements around asking for forgiveness.

Yes, it is an apology; a statement of I recognize that I hurt you; I was wrong and I am sorry; I will change. This in itself can be beneficial and healing to the person who has been harmed, both in acknowledging that they did not deserve what was done to them, and in the implication of I repudiate my deeds; you do not need to fear me. (This is particularly important in a context like The Silmarillion, where you can end up with people living in the same land as the people who murdered them.)

But it is also more than that. It is a reversal of the power relationship that existed when the wrong was done, by the offender placing themself in the power of their victim. It’s an admission that they want forgiveness, and the right and the power to grant or to withhold it rests with person who has been wronged. This is why, for a request for forgiveness to mean anything, the person asking it can’t regard themself as entitled to recieve it; if someone responds to a refusal of forgiveness or a rejected apology by being angry or affronted, that’s an immediate sign that they were never sincerely repentant in the first place. To ask for forgiveness is to say I submit to your judgement, and I beg for your mercy. (This also reinforces the message of I am not a threat mentioned above: I am in your power.) The request for forgiveness acknowledges that forgiveness is not deserved, and that hatred/judgement/condemnation is. It’s an act of unconditional surrender.[1] The granting of forgiveness can’t be treated as something normal or pro forma; it’s an act of unmerited grace.

This is why I regard forgiveness as something that’s beneficial to both offender and victim, rather than as beneficial to the victim without reference to the offender (I forgive you because hatred makes me into someone I don’t like - though as Tolkien observes in his letters, this is in itself a valid reason for forgiveness/mercy) or as something the offender is selfishly seeking without regard for the victim.

Even if forgiveness is not granted, seeking it is beneficial to the offender in having taken responsibility and accepted judgement for their actions, and to the victim in being able to call the person that hurt them to account. If it is granted, it’s transformative and healing to both, changing guilt into gratitude and victim into benefactor.

I’ve also seen a fair amount of writing on the merits of redemption arcs (seeking forgiveness) relative to rehabilitation arcs (becoming a better person), and I think the emphases are going to vary from character to character.

To give examples: For Maedhros and Maglor (who are, unsurprisingly, the main inspirations for this essay), the main theme is going to redemption and seeking forgiveness because - despite their numerous crimes - by the time they’re willing/able to return to Aman (which would involve the renunciation of both Oath and Silmarils), the risk of reoffense is basically nil. There’s no desire to return to their previous behaviour; for goodness’ sakes, they didn’t even want to be doing those horrible things while they were doing them, and the impetus for their actions has now been removed. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’ve hurt a great many people, many of whom are going to find their presence in Valinor painful or frightening or both, and who have no reason to trust them. So their journey is going to be less about changing who they are, and more about how to address what they’ve already done.

An example on the flip side would be Saeros. His actual wrongdoing was comparatively minor in comparison to all the things that sprang from it; no reasonable person could hold him solely responsible for all the events of the Narn i Hîn Húrin, when so many other people’s bad decisions also played a role in it. He’s in the position of the one small stone that sets off an avalanche. But he still is the one who set it off. Mablung outright told him that he was doing Morgoth’s work (as was undoubtedly true; Morgoth needed Túrin out of Doriath, and had only the most indirect ways of achieving that; and what Glaurung does to Nienor is quite deliberately a takeoff on Saeros’ words, with her later death in a chasm also mirroring Saeros’) and Saeros ignored him, and Túrin and his mother and sister might all have lived long, peaceful and happy lives in Doriath, and Nargothrond might still have stood, if Saeros had, at one pivotal moment, just refrained from being a dick.

It’s not something that it would even make sense for him to go around apologizing to people for, when his own part in the events leading to the fall of Nagothrond and Doriath was so small. And the risk of any kind of reoccurrence of similar events is, again, basically nil. But the risk of Saeros continuing to be a prideful, bigoted asshole is pretty high - he’s had a lifetime’s experience at it! So his journey is going to be about recognizing the character and personality flaws that led to him being a tool of Morgoth[2] and endeavouring to correct them and become a different kind of person. And that’s something he could do without even needing to have any contact with the people he knew in his former life (and I think he’d be reluctant to seek them out anyway, out of embarrassment over his death as much as anything else).

[1] This is, I think, one of the reasons why the concept of forgiveness in political contexts (Canada and First Nations; the US and African-Americans; post-apartheid South Africa) has become so fraught in a lot of political discussion. In contexts where one group has been oppressed by another, and the group responsible for the oppression apologizes but continues to hold power over the oppressed, forgiveness can’t have this meaning. The offender retains power over the victim; all they’re really saying is we were wrong, but let’s put this behind us and move on, and the ‘moving on’ rarely involves any meaningful redress of the ongoing oppression. So the backlash against the idea of forgiveness in these contexts is understandable.

That’s in addition to the idea of forgiveness being something highly interpersonal, so that the concept of forgiving a government or institution is a bit fuzzy at the best of times.

On a completely separate note, I think this idea of forgiveness as involving an inversion of power relationships is why Saruman reacted so spitefully to being offered mercy. Judgement and vengeance are things that can be resisted, and that are at least an acknowledgement that you have successfully done spiritual damage to another person. But being granted mercy is the acceptance of a surrender that he never offered; he is now in Frodo’s power whether he wants to be or not.

[2] As well as just a tool, generally.

[arofili]

all of the silm asks.

river we can’t keep doing this,

1. Have you ever called out a friend or a relative in front of a bunch of people? What happened?lmao no??? what kind of question is this??

2. What are your three most valued possessions?uhh idk, ever since i got robbed last year i feel like i realized that the things i valued most aren’t...tangible? like everything is replaceable, basically. i mean i like having stuff, dont get me wrong, and getting robbed sucked, but. i guess my phone and my laptop and my notebook? i use those things to connect with people and my notebook is full of stuff i haven’t backed up anywhere else yet. but once i get it in The Cloud, all i really need is my google account tbh

3. Do you have any enemies?uhhh not to my knowledge hjhfjhfd

4. Fëanor, Fingolfin or Finarfin - who are you most like in real life?lmao finarfin probably. i try not to be a Big Idiot and i follow rules and i’m not the most adventurous. tho i probably have some nolofinwean traits too, if i say i’m gonna do something i will stick to my word

5. Best canon ship in the Silm?do turin and beleg count? no? okay, in that case probably aegnor and andreth. (i’m a slut for doomed interspecies relationships, dont judge)

6. Best m/f ship?uhh, this one was harder than i thought it would be! since i already said aegnor/andreth... i know i really like the canon peredhel ships so elwing/earendil and elrond/celebrian are very good! and i think caranthir/haleth is really interesting too, but i don’t see them as romantic

7. Best f/f ship?hmnnn... i mean ALL the f/f ships are so good! i guess- nienor/finduilas is some Good Shit right there, and i’ve always liked anaire/earwen!

8. Best m/m ship?answered here!

9. Best canon friendship?uhh, all of them?? ok but: luthien and huan,, my HEART! (also aredhel and celegorm and curufin!!)

10. What made you read the Silmarillion in the first place?the fandom, tbh! when i got into the tolkien fandom thru the hobbit movies i devoured all the content i could but i never thought i would be a silm person, but then all the posts seemed so interesting and i was starting to enjoy the silm by proxy and fanon so i decided to read the silm and never looked back :’)

11. Ainulindalë and Valaquenta - yay or nay?i mean they are definitely the least interesting parts of the silm, so nay? i’m not really sure what this is asking? i don’t think they’re pointless or anything, but i cam here for the ELVES

12. If you had to describe yourself with a character from Tolkien’s works, who would it be?answered here!

13. Where in Middle-Earth would you most like to live?answered here!

14. Who is your dream partner from Tolkien’s works?they are all such DISASTERS...i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t gimli and/or fili though, lol (in an aro way, ofc)

15. Which two characters would you want as friends to defeat Voldemort with?luthien and ... finrod! both very powerful and good people!

16. Your opinion of Eru Ilúvatar?i don’t think he can be judged by human standards, because he’s so inhuman. like, elves are kind of Super Special Magic Humans but Eru and the Valar are so far removed from that... I don’t think Eru is evil or anything like that. i think the valar can’t really understand the Children and their conflicts come from that - idk about Eru, though, we don’t see a lot of him. he seems very powerful and absent, i guess? he only really intervenes when the situation is Truly Dire and then he shows more of a force of unimaginable power than like, divine mercy or anything

17. Favourite AU setting?i really like the two-steps-to-the-left-of-canon AU settings where everything is juuuusst slightly more magical than it is in canon and things like wraiths and revivification are more commonplace. that may be cheating though so i got to say that i’m always here for scifi/space AUs! (normally i’d go right to modern AU but i feel like because of lifespans, modern AUs fall apart with the silm unless you’re going very small-scale with them)

18. Favourite crack pairing/concept/headcanon?“crack” is weird in the silm because of the dubious canonosity of Literally Everything... my fav ~crack~ pairing is probably turgon/finrod but that has evolved from “crack” to “rarepair hell” for me lmao. i also really love @princess-faelivrin‘s fin-galad headcanon! and i am currently daydreaming about some way that nienor is connected to goldberry - oh and tar-miriel as the witch-king is always a good one. really, anything that keeps the ladies alive for longer!

19. First, Second or Third Age?i mean they all have their good parts, but like... first age, probably. third age has gigolas and all the characters from the hobbit, which is tempting, but there’s just so MUCH to work with in the first age! second age is neat too but i’m not really a numenor person so...

20. Funniest moment in the Silm?tie between turin throwing the cup at saeros and “GET THEE GONE FROM MY GATE, THOU JAIL-CROW OF MANDOS”

(if turin and feanor ever met, arda would collapse)

21. Saddest moment?i mean, turin killing beleg always fucking gets me, but also maedhros’s suicide and also the nirnaeth arnoediad and also just the whole fucking book!!!

22. Do you read/understand/speak any of the languages or alphabets?lmao no!! with resources i can put together names for folks and i can recognize certain elements of words, but that’s about it.

23. Who is Gil-galad’s father?i’m throwing my hat in the ring for Orodreth, but that’s only when i don’t want to make it like, a Thing. i really love explorations of this uncertainty (@elvntari‘s gil-galad fic springs to mind, as does @thishazeleyeddemon‘s lalwen theory, maybe with cirdan as the dad, and fin-galad is again a blessed concept) and i’m also very fond of the idea that his parentage is “no one in particular” and that he just stepped forward to claim the throne when no one else wanted it. really i’m open to every interpretation! except fingon. i don’t think it’s fingon. i mean, it could very well be that fingon is his dad as in he’s the one who raised him and claimed him, but if we’re going biologically i don’t think fingon contributed any genetic material to gil-galad

24. Angbang, Russingon or Silvergifting?i mean this is a no-brainer. of course it’s russingon! i do enjoy angbang and silvergifting, but like cmon.one of these days i’d love to write a really long angbang fic detailing everything btwn them, probably mostly from mairon’s pov, from ainulindale to the fourth age but that would be an undertaking. i do have a lot of tiny ideas for them that would be fun to weave together. as for silvergifting, just...poor tyelpe. poor dude. but i am suuuuch a slut for russingon lmao.

25. What would you most like to see in a tv series or film based on the Silmarillion?i would LOVE to see a book-accurate version but like. that’s VERY unlikely. a COH adaptation would be neat but probably too dark to make it to audiences without being seriously watered down. Beren and Luthien might be able to do it, if they could condense the supporting lore around the story. that’s really the problem with the silm - it’s like a greek myth in it’s epic sprawl. there’s so much story that you can’t really take just one aspect of it to the screen without taking all of it. if you don’t know about the silmarils you can’t do B&L, if you don’t know about the nirnaeth and the histories of nargothrond and doriath you can’t do COH, if you don’t know about the sundering and the exiles you can’t do literally anything tbh.BUT i would love a COH adaptation, if it’s done right. or a very ~experimental~ take on B&L. i have a lot of ideas of how to incorporate all the different versions of that story into one cohesive canon... ok i admit it i just want to see telvido on screen!!! and also werewolves are neat!!

also i’ve said it before but a 3-act play set in numenor....HMM that would be some good hsit. really, i think the mariner’s wife would make an excellent drama, but again there’s so much CONTEXT around numenor!the 3 acts would be 1. elros’s transformation into tar-minyatur (there’s so many possibilities to explore! it’s basically uncharted waters once you get to the details!) 2. the mariner’s wife (a pretty faithful adaptation, also tar-meneldur’s monologue when he passes the scepter on to aldarion is just. WRITTEN to be performed on stage imo) and 3. akallabeth (again, lots of ways this could go. i also think it would be really neat to double cast elros and pharazon. and sauron should be double cast too, though idk who as.)

anyway, wow this got long, oops. i have a LOT of silm opinions!!

[garden-ghoul]

children of hurin live blog part 4ish

“[snake voice] whatssssss up everyone I’m ssssick and itss affecting my ssschoolwork”

CHAPTER 10: TURIN IN NARGOTHROND

At the end of last chapter Turin and Gwindor were taken prisoner by guards from Nargothrond, where Gwindor is from. They didn’t recognize him because he’s seen so much shit. Ohhh and we finally meet Finduilas! She is affianced to Gwindor and she’s very happy to see her again. For some reason I have a really strong conviction that her name means “strawberry.” Like I just really really associate strawberries with her as a motif? And I think she has orange hair.

So Gwindor is about to introduce Turin as uhhh I don’t even know what he told Gwindor his name is. Whatever. Turin elbows him and goes “ACTUALLY I’m Agarwaen, son of Umarth” (Bloodstained, son of Ill Fate). That brings our name total up to “Turin ‘Neithan’ ‘Gorthol’ ‘Agarwaen ben Umarth’ ben Hurin.” I think. I’m doing this by memory because it’s funnier. Anyway the Nargothronders all immediately intuit that this means he’s sad because he killed his best friend, and awkwardly shuffle around before changing the subject. Oh shit and then he almost immediately gets ANOTHER name after the Nargothrond smiths reforge his evil sword Anglachel into a... exactly the same evil sword, I guess, named Gurthang (Iron of Death). Turin is now “Turin ‘Neithan’ ‘Gorthol’ ‘Agarwaen ‘Mormegil’ ben Umarth’ ben Hurin.” Mormegil is a sick-ass name and I hope he keeps it. Means ‘black sword.’ ugh why am I so painstakingly documenting Turin’s shitty name series. no painstakebacksies.

Anyway Turin is now on Orodreth’s council, because Orodreth seems to be under the impression that he did all that useful organizing completely on purpose and used strategy. ALSO it turns out that I was completely wrong last time when I said that Nargothrond isn’t into guerilla warfare like Turin. I don’t really see how Turin could possibly make honorable warfare in “open battle and pursuit” while he was at amon rudh, given that he really really needed to stay secret... but it says here he’s mad that Orodreth favors ambush tactics. Orodreth is my new favorite king in the Silm because I think he might be the ONLY one who has thought of this. Fucking elfs. He makes a great speech though:

Petty victories will prove profitless at the last, for thus Morgoth learns where the boldest of his enemies are to be found, and gathers strength great enough to destroy them. All the might of the Elves and Edain united sufficed only to contain him, and to gain the peace of a siege; long indeed, but only so long as Morgoth bided his time before he broke the leaguer; and never again can such a union be made. Only in secrecy lies hope of survival. Until the Valar come.

Turin says that “victory is victory, however small” (dude. please think long-term, ever. I know you are halfway convinced you are going to be dead by next year, I get that, but, dude.) and makes some pretty good points about evil scouts, but Orodreth doesn’t really want to listen because he also badmouths Manwe by comparing him to Morgoth. All this is just making me SO weary about the concept of war. Where does Morgoth even get all those orcs. Is he going to run out of evil magic to imbue them with any time soon. And does he even know why he is trying to kill the eldar??

Tolkien goes on to remind us that everyone hates disabled veterans (Gwindor ::( ) and notes that because Turin is so gung-ho about battle everyone loves him. “His speech and bearing were those of the ancient kingdom of Doriath, and even among the Elves he might be taken at first meeting for one from the great houses of the Noldor.” This is a HUGE disappointment to me, because I will forever cherish elves that look weird and inhuman. What’s the POINT otherwise? Oh fuck he has ANOTHER nickname, Adanedhel (elf-man). But I’m not putting down his full dumb ass name because I’ve already done that twice in this liveblog. And then he makes friends with Finduilas, who gives him YET ANOTHER nickname: Thurin (secret) because he won’t tell her about his family. I like how in teasing him about how secretive she is she ALMOST guessed his true name. They’re really cute, though, they both say they wish they were siblings because they like each other so much.

Meanwhile Gwindor is mad because Finduilas has a really obvious crush on Turin; Turin is oblivious and just wants her to help him take care of Gwindor, whom he loves; Finduilas doesn’t like to hang out with Gwindor any more because his trauma makes him really fatalistic. It’s very soap opera. I’m really charmed by Turin’s inability to read people/guess their motivations. He’s just a real nice boy? Now that he lives at court he is a real nice boy; when he led a band of outlaw refugees he was decidedly NOT a nice boy. I think an integral part of his character is that he molds himself to fit in perfectly with whatever place he is in. The only endearing thing about him.

CHAPTER 11: THE FALL OF NARGOTHROND

Five years later, some messengers from Ulmo and/or Cirdan come to Nargothrond to tell Orodreth to destroy his handsome hubris bridge so orcs won’t be able to get into the city. They accidentally antagonize Turin by deadnaming him. So he screams and them and they run back to whereve Cirdan lives with their tails on fire.

A few months later Morgoth sends an army (led by Glaurung! It’s so neat that dragons can lead armies) and within one sentence Orodreth and almost all the other Nargothronders who fight have died. Gwindor is mortally wounded and tells Turin two things: “If you love me, let me go.” and, “Go save Finduilas, or I’ll curse you!” Because he wants her to be safe. Unfortunately, Turin wasted so much of his time tenderly holding dying Gwindor in his arms that by the time he gets back to the city it is already mostly destroyed. He tries to fight Glaurung and is immediately bewitched; Glaurung fills him with self-loathing and convinces him to... go look for Morwen and Nienor instead of rescuing Finduilas, I guess? “And Glaurung laughed once more, for he had accomplished the errand of his master.” Why does Morgoth care about Finduilas? Not sure if it’s supposed to be clear what this was...

Anyway, that’s the end of this chapter. One more name update before we go: the hero of our tale, Turin ‘Neithan’ ‘Gorthol’ ‘Agarwaen ‘Mormegil’ ‘Adanadhel’ ‘Thurin’ ben Umarth’ ben Hurin.

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

A Lesson in Doors, Dresses, and Daggers

A mostly sweet meet-cute since I’ve been writing a lot of angst lately! Inspired by @fellowshipofthefics' great AU-gust mashup prompts :)

17. Locked in a room & S. ‘I’m sorry I took so long.’

AO3 2401 words

Nienor and Finduilas meet for the first time, get locked in a room together, and flirt through fashion advice.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

Nienor slips in the room and stops short.

“This is not the king’s office.”

The Elf who stands with her back to her, bent over a table cluttered with broken weapons turns around.

“And you aren’t Orodreth.”

The stranger laughs and flips her blonde braid over her shoulder. “His hair is longer than mine.”

Nienor reddens and starts forward to offer an apology and an introduction, pushing the door open wider. Why must Nargothrond have so many blasted rooms?

Before she can take more than a step though, the Elf cries out and gestures for her to stop.

She freezes in confusion and the heavy wooden door swings shut behind her.

“Oh no, you shouldn’t have let it close! The lock is broken, it won’t open from the inside now.” The elleth places down the rusted dagger in her hands and goes over to the door. She brushes past Nienor as she does so, smelling of polishing oil and flowers.

She pulls on the handle a few times to demonstrate the situation and sighs, frustration lining her face.

Nienor bites her lip and tries to think of what to say. There is still too much blood in her cheeks, but it is not all there because of embarrassment anymore. This Elf-maiden has no right to be angry at her; how was she meant to know?

But the elleth’s annoyance seems to be passing, she sighs again then offers Nienor a rueful smile and comes to stand before her.

“Well, no matter, someone will find us soon enough, I am sure.” She peers down at Nienor’s face, and her eyes brighten.

“And perhaps this is good fortune disguised as bad! I have wanted to make your acquaintance for days now. Lady Nienor, it is lovely to meet you.”

Nienor finds herself returning her smile and she takes a few deep breaths. Her heart had not yet slowed down since she had run all the way from her chambers, after realising she was late.

The Elf wanders back over to the pile of weapons. There are many more on shelves around the room, rusted and tarnished. This is probably some old storage closet; it is very small. Nienor wonders what this elleth is doing here.

“You were meeting with the king?”

Nienor awkwardly leans against the door and nods, before realising the maiden is back focused on her task, turned away from her.

“Yes, we had an appointment at six bells. However, I got terribly distracted writing a letter to my mother, and in my rush, I must have lost my way. It is taking me a little while to gain familiarity with all these stairs and levels and corridors.”

The Elf’s voice sounds amused as she answers. “Then you are forgiven for your interruption and its consequences. And do not worry –” She turns briefly and gives Nienor a quick grin.

“The king is famously late himself, so I’m sure you have caused him no trouble.”

Nienor is startled by the words. That had been her major concern and she is relieved to hear so, but this must be a high lady of the court to speak so familiarly of Orodreth. What bad luck to blunder on her first meeting with someone clearly important.

“I – I hope I have not, my lady. It was not a matter of great importance, which I wished to ask him about.”

“Oh?” The elleth drops a broadsword with a broken blade on the pile and the metal clang rings in Nienor’s ears.

“Perhaps I could offer to assist you with it? It seems wise to fully draw on the hours we’re stuck here so they’re not wasted.” She smiles at Nienor as she leans back against the table.

Nienor’s fingers twist in her skirt and she glances at the firmly shut door. But she nods and gives a strained smile. “Thank you, my lady, that is kind of you.”

The Elf waves her hand dismissively. Nienor sees two fine rings on her fingers, one she thinks might have a crest on it, and another set with a blue jewel, on her fourth finger. Is she betrothed?

“It is my pleasure! So, what is it you wished to ask the king about?”

“Well – it is the Midsummer feast in a half months’ time, and I am not sure what to wear. King Thingol’s court had certain traditions, but so far clothes seem to be different here, so…”

The Elf-maiden opens her mouth to speak but Nienor quickly continues. “I know it is hardly a matter for a king. But I had quite an enjoyable discussion with him about Iathrim fashion at my welcome banquet, and he said to always come to him with queries.” Her voice trails off.

“No, you are right, it is just the sort of thing he would take joy in dealing with. But he is always exceptionally busy these days.” The elleth clears her throat. “Anyhow I would love to help you with it.”

Nienor looks at her and sees her grinning, easy and happy, and her stomach twists.

“So, the simplest element to remember is the colours.” The Elf gestures to her own gown. “All shades of blue, especially when adorned with silver are favoured, throughout the season somewhat but especially at the feast.”

“Ah yes, that is similar in Doriath.” Nienor smiles, more than a little relieved that some customs are the same.

Her companion inclines her head. “Yes, it is one of the oldest traditions, from the days before this kingdom, and before my father’s people ever returned to these shores. Blue and silver catch starlight the best, you see.”

Ah, so she is half Noldorin at least, Nienor thinks, as she nods to indicate she understands.

“For the celebration itself it is popular to have small bells sewn into the edges of sleeves and hems.”

She frowns, wondering what the story behind that is. And what her mother would think if she returned in a dress that jangled every time she moved.

The Elf must see her curiosity because she laughs lightly and says, “For many in Nargothrond, summer returns their minds to The Dancer of the West. She who is called Nessa in the old tongue and who, they tell us, danced on the ever-green lawns of that land.”

The forbidden language makes Nienor’s face twitch, her years in Doriath pulling taut inside her, but she does her best to hide it. “Ah, so the bells are to pay homage to her and her skill?”

Shrugging, the Elf says, “I believe that is how the idea of the thing started. But mostly we keep doing it as it is a festival for dancing, and it’s a glorious thing when all our feet sing together.”

Then she winks. “It also makes it most fun when couples attempt to sneak away and, ah, do things best suited for the shadows.”

Nienor feels her whole face go crimson and hot. She does not know where to look.

The elleth laughs, but it is empty of mockery, and thankfully continues speaking.

“The key elements to remember for the garment itself is that your overdress should have a lower and sharper neckline, to better display your underlayer. And at the wrist your sleeve should fall and become wider.” She indicates her own flared sleeves, the cuffs embroidered with small white birds.

“Oh, and,” she smoothly closes the distance between them in two steps. “Dresses and tunics in Nargothrond have been fitting tighter than this since Fingolfin was king. May I?”

Nienor realises the Elf’s hand is hovering over her body. Swallowing, she nods her permission and cannot help tensing as the elleth reaches out and runs her fingers over the material at Nienor’s ribs and waist.

“Yes, it will need to be much tighter than this. A closer fit will suit you better too, Lady Nienor.”

She feels as if the walls have marched in two feet in the last few seconds. Her face is on fire and still the Elf-maiden’s hand lingers.

Breathing quickly, Nienor darts her eyes up to the elleth’s face. For once the bright smile is absent and it is a mask, her eyes calm but intense as they focus on Nienor.

Her heartbeat is even quicker than before, pounding in her chest.

But just as she can’t bear it any longer, she will have to say or do something, the Elf abruptly steps back, dropping her hand.

Nienor exhales, long and low. She watches in disbelief as the elleth returns to sorting through the mound of weapons, humming quietly to herself.

She can still feel the ghost of fingers on her ribs and allows herself one fast glance down to check they are truly gone.

The close space and lack of an escape settle heavier in Nienor’s mind, and she clenches her teeth. Inhale. Deep breath out. She presses her hands hard against her legs.

Nienor leans against the solid door again, letting it take her weight.

She will show this bold Elf-maiden that not all of the Edain fall at Elvish feet with the slightest pressure.

“Thank you for the advice, my lady, I will keep it in mind.” The elleth does not turn around and simply inclines her head. Nienor frowns and watches as she examines a dagger with rubies set in the handle and – are those teeth marks on the blade? The Elf places it in the larger pile on her right.

“You have not yet said why you are in here. I presume you knew this wasn’t the king’s office.”

Nienor winces at her own joke and is not surprised when the answering laugh rings a little hollow.

“Ah no. I am, um –” She turns and studies Nienor’s face for a long moment in silence, then says “I am looking for a weapon, a dagger, that belonged to my – to someone important. A truly foolish servant assumed it was to be gotten rid of.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Apparently it is common to keep unwanted items at the back of your wardrobe, in old, locked chests.”

Nienor bites her cheek, unsure how to respond. It was a far more personal answer than she’d been expecting, and she is aware of the colour that has risen in the elleth’s cheeks and the way her hands have curled into fists.

But despite this, she steps closer and meets her eyes, pushing down any hesitancy. Their colour brings to mind the way the sunlight hit the floor of her bedroom in Dor-lómin.

“I am sorry you have lost something of value to you. I do not mean to say I know how you feel, but I have felt further away from my lost loved ones since leaving my home in Hithlum. It is irrational, they are no closer than they have ever been. But the comfort of simply being near something they touched is never to be understated.”

“Yes,” the Elf-maiden murmurs, her eyes intense on Nienor’s but her posture relaxed and calmer now. “That is exactly it. I have more things of hers but the possibility of being deprived of even one is… very hard.”

Nienor thinks of Morwen, the look on her face when they arrived in Menegroth and were told Túrin was gone. “You cannot bear to lose them in any more ways.”

The elleth nods wordlessly and something passes between the two of them, a sharp second of understanding that reverberates in Nienor’s chest and lodges in her heart.

The following quiet is not uncomfortable but after it has drawn on a while, Nienor breaks it, saying softly, “Would you like me to help you look?”

“Oh, thank you,” the Elf smiles at her, smaller and sadder than before. “But I think I ought to give it up. I had searched most of the room before you arrived and this was one of the final places in the city for it to be, anyway.”

“Well, I am sorry.” Nienor returns her smile. “I will help you hunt down the servant if you like. Make them go and test every dagger in Nargothrond on themselves, just to make sure.”

A short, surprised laugh pushes past the elleth’s lips. “Who knew Men were so bloodthirsty? Again, I thank you Nienor, but no, it was not really his fault. It was a mistake without malice.”

You are kinder than I am, Nienor thinks and does not say.

The Elf-maiden walks over to her. “And, about before, I –”

The door swings open with a bang and they both jump.

An Elf with long dark braids stands on the threshold.

“Finduilas, there you are! I was wondering –” The elleth stops, seeing Nienor, eyes going round with surprise.

“Lady Nienor! I did not expect you to be – here. Princess, I apologise for interrupting. I thought you were alone.”

Nienor steps away from the Elf – from Princess Finduilas. Her mind moves sluggishly, refusing to adjust to this new information.

The princess glances at her quickly and then smiles brightly at her friend. “Egleriadis, you are our valiant rescuer, thank you! Lady Nienor lost her way, and I failed to tell her in time that this door is broken, and will not open from the inside if closed, so we became trapped.”

Egleriadis’ wide brown eyes go to the door, then to Nienor, then back to Finduilas.

“What a piece of bad luck, Princess! I hope you weren’t stuck for too long?”

“No, no, not at all, and it was very pleasant finally getting to know our new guest.” She smiles at Nienor, who cannot quite feel her face it has gone so red.

Egleriadis opens her mouth to say something more, but Finduilas grabs her arm, props the door open with an old shield, and manoeuvres her out the room in one fluid motion.

“Come along El, let us leave Lady Nienor to make her appointment with my father, as was her original intention.”

As the two Elves turn away, Finduilas looks back a final time.

“It really was a joy meeting you, even in this way, Nienor.” And then, so quickly that if Nienor was not staring, eyes still wide and stunned she might have missed it, the princess mouths I’m sorry, flashes an apologetic smile – and winks.

She stays standing there, open-mouthed and processing for a long time.