#fight for Arda

[ylieke]

[ettelenethelien]

I really can't imagine how stupid the Avari must have thought the Noldor (and not without reason).

"So you leave Middle Earth right when it becomes safe(ish) and then you return at the exact moment morgoth sets up shop here again???"

[ellena-asg]

source: Reddit

That someone on there wasn't lying, Simon. We could have had it all.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

I’ve been thinking about Miriel and her impact on the House of Feanor on the whole, as you do, and I was thinking what if she haunted the narrative even more? I think it’s pretty well established that she was depressed in some shape or form, that there were mental health problems contributing heavily but there were definitely physical aspects as well, ‘But in the bearing of her son Miriel was consumed in spirit and body; and after his birth she yearned for release from the labour of living.’ And I know that Feanor being Feanor was ascribed as a huge cause of this, that he was just so much stronger than the average elf that his birth was particularly taxing but I’m going to go ahead and assume that even if Feanor had been a perfectly normal baby Miriel would have been impacted. It just feels almost like this infant is being blamed for his mother’s death which, while definitely plausible as something that happened in universe, doesn’t really feel fair to him.

I’m theorising Miriel had underlying conditions from long before she became pregnant that made her prone to things like fainting, exhaustion, chronic pain and that in all honesty her having a child was never going to be a good idea. But they wanted a family together and where could be a safer place to raise one? Everything was perfect and safe, why shouldn’t they be able to overcome this little obstacle to doing what everyone else seemed to be doing without issue? Towards the end she was entirely bedridden, not even strong enough to sit at her loom.

Finwë was relieved beyond measure when Feanor seemed to grow almost exceedingly strong and healthy, as if he’d gotten all the strength Miriel had been missing, and he thought that was the matter laid to rest, Feanor was fine and any children of his would be as well. Except they weren’t. Nerdanel’s pregnancies were always a time of great panic, not for her health really because it wasn’t Feanor’s genes they were worried about it was Miriel’s. And Nerdanel was nothing like Miriel but her children…..

Ñolofinwe watches Feanor pacing the palace in a frenzy while a crowd of healers stream in and out of a room down the hall, some five times the standard amount, and he wants to try and reassure him but knows he, with his perfectly healthy baby boy, delivered with no fuss by one midwife just like his two perfectly healthy sons beforehand, to go home to, is the last person in Arda his brother could stand to converse with right now.

The sons and daughters of Fingolfin and Finarfin grew swiftly, strong and athletic with hearty appetites and bright dispositions. Feanor could not bring himself to hate children so he settled for hating his brothers instead. He does not envy them their children, he loves his more than he could ever have loved anything and that’s the problem right there, he loves his sons and he’s absolutely terrified that he’s going to lose them if he lays them down too long. They’re so small and as soon as they leave his or Nerdanel’s arms they seem to tremble with cold so he sleeps with them against his chest for more of the first years of their lives than was usual. After those many sleepless nights he always finds it hard to sleep without being able to feel the rise and fall of their breathing.

Their cousins often do not understand what the difference between them and the Feanorians is, most of them have vague memories of getting scolded within an inch of their lives for fighting one back when they got into childish arguments. Mostly they just resented it or assumed it was favouritism if it were by Finwe or fear of Feanor’s wrath if by their own parents. Angrod did not think too long on how easily Caranthir crumpled to the ground at an unexpected shove, after all he was the older wasn’t he? Surely the rules about being gentle shouldn’t apply? He was equally puzzled when Fingolfin came running and scooped Caranthir into his arms, pale and panicked as Maedhros assured him he’d make certain Feanor wouldn’t hear about the matter if he was alright.

They train and become agile and skilled with blades and bows if not physically broad and strong in the way of their cousins but no matter how their health improves there are always concerns and during their approaching adulthood it becomes clear their worries are not only in body. There are migraines that leave them in dark rooms unable to bear even the sound of footsteps outside, days where Curufin and Maedhros struggle to allow any food past there lips, days where Caranthir sobs for hours with some inexplicable ache, weeks where Maglor cannot find rest no matter how much exhaustion he feels, little cuts and gashes on Celegorm’s arms that seem too frequent to be fully accidental.

If you were to look at this from a modern perspective it would probably be some genetic tendency to bipolar disorder and major depression but they wouldn’t have that kind of language because in my headcanons about Valinor they have very little experience with mental illness and no idea how to respond to it. I’m citing the whole Miriel incident to back me up there.

And just to make this even more angsty have a Tyelko quote from the fic of this I may or may not write ‘Amme always said we were her miracles, that our survival and strength was a blessing from the Valar. I was lucky to make it to my first winter. I wonder now if things wouldn’t have been better for everyone else if I hadn’t.’

[imakemywings]

Hey, are you still bitter about the treatment Thingol gets in the fandom? Because I am, even if it's 2023. The fact that people have such visceral reactions and threw a huge hissy fit in response to Thingol banning Quenya as if his banning is equivalent to a mass slaughter when said mass slaughterers are claiming lands in Beleriand and mocks Thingol's kingship is funny to me. And the fact that people mock and shit on Thingol for being pissed at the kinslaying at Aqualonde because he wasn't even there, like hello? That's his brother's people tf? Who wouldn't be pissed when you find out your brother's family legit got slaughtered? He has flaws but like so do many characters in silm, yet he gets so much hate and is never written with justice because he's against the noldor/feanorians.

Am I still bitter about [X]? yes. The answer is always yes.

People's attitudes towards Thingol in this fandom are a perfect illustration of character-centric morality: the things the Feanorians do are excusable because they're liked, and anything Thingol does is worthy of scorn because he is not liked. That's how you get people acting like the Quenya ban is on par with literal mass murder (and no, I don't think his asking for a massive number of foreign troops coming into the area to show him respect as the local ruler, as a display of good faith if nothing else, was unreasonable).

Look, I get why Thingol is not a big fan favorite. He suffers from "show not tell" where although Tolkien tells us he was a wise and beloved king, most of what we're shown in detail are things he fucked up. He also plays the King Triton role with Beren and Luthien, and no one likes a guy who stands in the way of ~true love~. Additionally, some of his most likeable moments come in Children of Hurin, which is, of course, not a part of the core Silmarillion. We get a lot less detail in Silm about Turin's time in Doriath, which is when we see a lot more of Thingol in CoH and where we see his attitude on mortals make a complete 180 (he is in fact the only Elf lord to ever foster a Man). But even within Silm, it's rarely acknowledged that in the end, he does support Beren and Luthien's marriage.

"And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Luthien a thing new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world. Therefore at last he yielded his will, and Beren took the hand of Luthien before the throne of her father."

He seats Beren at his left hand--it's hard to overstate the significance of that.

"Then Thingol's mood was softened; and Beren sat before his throne upon the left, and Luthien upon the right, and they told the tale of the Quest..."

I think it is relevant to remember that in accepting Luthien's marriage to Beren, Thingol is necessarily accepting her death--the death of his only child, whom he holds dearer than all the land and wealth of Doriath. That doesn't make his actions in B&L right, but I think it makes them understandable.

Later, when the forces of Doriath go to hunt Carcaroth, Beren and Thingol hunt together.

"...Huan leaped from the thicket upon the back of the Wolf, and they fell together fighting bitterly; and no battle of wolf and hound has been like to it, for in the baying of Huan was heard the voice of the horns of Orome and the wrath of the Valar, but in the howls of Carcaroth was the hate of Morgoth and malice crueller than teeth of steel...There they fought to the death; but Thingol gave no heed, for he knelt beside Beren, seeing that he was sorely hurt." (Emphasis added)

But also, simply because he repeatedly comes into conflict with the sons of Feanor, he was doomed to be recast as a villain by the fandom because the sons are so popular that anyone who dislikes them is going to get shafted by the fandom. Hating on Thingol is so accepted in this fandom people don't even seem to regard it as character bashing to come onto posts or fics about Thingol and share how much they don't like him/think he's an asshole/whatever.

I really don't think there is an overreaction to hearing about unprovoked mass murder. I really think most of us would react very badly to finding out that someone we'd had dealings with had slaughtered a bunch of people, whether or not we were related to the victims. It's been said before but I'll drag it out again: Thingol had to do something. As king, he did not have the option of not reacting to that--that it happened, or that the Noldor tried to conceal it. The Quenya ban was arguably a mid-level response (Furthermore, it was a pretty deft display of Thingol's soft power--Maedhros scoffs at his claim to be king of Beleriand, yet look how instantly and totally the Sindar adhere to this directive. With this one move, Thingol displays for the Noldor how far his power reaches. If they were thinking about armed conflict with Thingol and Doriath, they now know how many of the Elves of Beleriand they would have to deal with.) It's not like Fingolfin was going to turn his people over for a trial, and accept whatever punishment Doriath's court ruled on, not least because Fingon himself was a significant part of the Kinslaying at Alqualonde. The Noldor, hand their crown prince over to a foreign justice system? Not gonna happen.

I will link to my tag for Thingol metas, if you want to see more of what other people have stated more eloquently about his character and his actions!

Long story short: I like Thingol, flaws included, and it's kind of laughable that of all the characters in the book, THIS is the one people find irredeemable.

[digitaldiarystuff]

📍Masterlist

hi everyone, here’s my masterlist for all my stories make sure to check it out 💖

💔: angst

☁️: fluff

🔥: smut

————

Arda Guler

Jealous💔☁️

Declan Rice

Enemies (To Lovers?) 💔🔥

Fermin Lopez

Good Enough For You 💔☁️

Celebrity Crush💔☁️

Our Secret 💔

Our Secret pt.2💔

Joao Felix

The Interview ☁️

Latin Grammys 💔☁️

Jude Bellingham

Friends? 💔☁️

Misunderstood 💔☁️

Old Habits Die Hard 💔☁️

Worst Mistake 💔

Worst Mistake pt.2 💔

Worst Mistake pt.3 💔

Pablo Gavi

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) ☁️

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) pt.2 ☁️🔥

Insecure 💔☁️

For Better, For Worse 💔☁️

Christmas Miracle ☁️

Cut Out For It💔☁️

Pedri Gonzalez

Bad Liar 💔

Bad Liar pt.2 💔

Bad Liar pt.3 💔

Bad Liar pt.4 💔☁️

Good 4 U 💔

Good 4 U pt.2 ☁️🔥

Our Secret 💔

Our Secret pt.2💔

False Hope 💔🔥

False Hope pt.2 💔

False Hope pt.3 💔

Ruben Dias

Patient 💔☁️

I Hate You 💔☁️🔥

Disappointed 💔

Unexpected 💔

Unexpected pt.2 💔

Trent Alexander Arnold

I Can’t Let You Move On 💔

The Fight 💔☁️

————

If you have any requests about which players I should write for, feel free to reach out to me

[shrikeseams]

'So @corsairspade's post about Celegorm and Orome and luck sent me down a tangent, because--

Okay. Part of the silmarillion that rubs me wrong is that the Valar never seem to experience any actual consequences for their failures and missteps. Their choice to trust Morgoth has disastrous consequences--everywhere outside of Aman*. Their mismanagement of Noldorin politics leads to the kinslaying at Alqualonde and the Doom of the Noldor (and arguably the knock-on dooming of beleriand) while the valar sit tight at home. Sauron gets loose and spends millenia wrecking shit, but that shit is all conveniently far away from Aman. The only time he gets close to Aman, it ends in a genocide--of people that the Valar wouldn't let into Aman in the first place. They stay high and dry and unchanging through the literal re-shaping of Arda.

So. Consequences! I want them. So what if the apparent waning of the Valar's strength across the Ages is actually a direct consequence of their isolationism?

After all, why are the valar in arda? They're there to build it, and then maintain it. They're there to embody their domains. My conception of them (and I know this isn't universal but this is my personal working baseline) is that each ainu's domain of power is their calling. Their reason for existance. It's the lens they perceive the world through, and they derive their strength of existence in the world by perpetually embodying and enacting that calling. Ulmo is defined by the restless motion of the waves. Varda is defined by the light of the heavens and the shining of the stars. Orome is defined by the hunt.

But then they restrict themselves to Aman. They functionally took themselves out of Arda well before the third age. They made a deliberate and conscious choice to restrict the scope of their activity/influence. What if that choice also restricted the scope of their power?

I keep coming back to Orome because. Look. His case of obedience to authority vs obedience to one's own nature/calling feels so egregious. If any valar should have spent the first age in beleriand, it should have been Orome and Tulkas. Orome's calling is The Hunting of Evil. Tulkas only showed up in Arda to fight Melkor! The act of sitting out the fight reduces both of them from forces of active good to... what? Courtly vestigial remnants of their own true natures? You don't stay the best at what you do by avoiding doing it. Maybe the valar don't retain their primordial powers if they don't exercise them. Maybe limiting the scope of their direct influence (to the place it was arguably least needed ) likewise limited the scope of their strengths.

Which leads to a situation where the valar cannot, in fact, defend Aman against Numenor, because they thought that isolation was enough. So they sat out two ages of the world, and when the world came to find them at home they realized too late that their choices would have consequences for themselves, not just others.

*If you try to argue that the loss of the Trees is equivalent to the destruction of a fucking landmass and the actual enslavement of unspecified numbers of people, save your energy. Just take my disappointed look as a given and go find some other post to comment on.

[thesummerestsolstice]

I think one of my favorite Silmarillion fandom tropes is "Arda Remade is fucked up actually."

Because who gets to decide what a perfect world looks like? Is that even possible? Most of the work I've seen about Arda Remade explores what would happen if the Valar made those choices, and perhaps, chose wrong.

If Miriel never dies, Finwe never remarries, and his other children never exist. If the latter bond takes precedent, and Finwe marries Indis first, what about Feanor? After all, even if Miriel, Finwe, and Indis would be happy with some sort of poly situation (good for them), there's no guarantee that whoever remakes the world would see it that way.

If a perfect world means the elves never leave Valinor, what happens to elves born from unions between exiled Noldor and elves in Middle-Earth? What happens to the half-elves? Is there no need for Earendil, in a world with no Morgoth to fight against? No need for Elrond in a world that shouldn't need healing?

Does anyone even know what's missing? What choices have been made for them? There's just so much tragic potential there.

Anyway, you should go read We Dream of Truth by Drag0nst0rm because it's a beautiful story about the imperfections of Arda Remade.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Why do you think Aragorn as accepted as a King? They don't have blood tests to confirm his identity and he is not even from Gondor (was probally born here, but not raised)

Oh no Aragorn was not born in Gondor, canonically speaking he was born in the north amongst the northern dunadain and that is his cultural heritage. And not only that, Aragorn's claim to the throne is legally shakey at BEST. His only claim to the line of Meneldil (original King of Gondor after Anarion and Elendil's deaths) is through a female line, which used to be an accepted path to kingship in Numenor, but was since entirely discarded by both Gondor AND Arnor (so not even Aragorn's own direct ancestors agreed with letting women rule kingdoms) And a previous legal ruling on this PRECISE ISSUE decreed that Aragorn's ancestor DID NOT have a right to Gondor's throne. So yes it's a good question isn't it? There are two answers!

#1 Gondor is still a partial if not full theocracy. This is one of those aspects of the book that doesnt really make sense unless you understand all the character's actions through the lense of catholicism and religious faith in general. Aragorn is 'Estel' or 'hope', but when people say 'hope' in Middle-earth what they mean is faith etc.

In lotr meta-logic the divine right to rule is a real thing that actually exists, god (Eru) literally wants Aragorn to be king. The characters within the story are aware of this to varying degrees, Boromir being one of the few characters who properly disregards this and wishes to view Aragorn's claim on it's own merit. Even Denethor knows and understands that Aragorn is chosen by god, and he's very bitter and angry about it! (good for him). But in general, all other characters including all Gondorian lords are 'faithful' or 'elendili', and within this religion the only people who could be called 'priests', who can bridge the divide between man and god, are their Kings. So, religiously, if Aragorn IS sent by god to rule them, then they would be committing a kind of heresy to refuse him. And remember, god literally exists in Arda canonically and so therefore does sin and heresy, not just in a moral way but also in a literal like... fact of nature kind of way.

So when Aragorn arrives in Pelargir with an army of ghosts it gives Lord Angbor FAITH in him. When Gandalf, an angel literally doing god's will, is his friend and expressly supports his claim the other lords of Gondor also are inspired to have faith in him. Aragorn spends a good deal of time after the siege of minas tirith ticking divine checklists for 'guy who should be king', he is not making a legal argument for his right to the Gondorian throne, he is making a religious argument for his right to rule over the entire population of 'the faithful' which includes Gondor AND Arnor, destroyed or not.

There WOULD be discussion though! Not everyone in Gondor is dunadain and not everyone is faithful in the way that the dunadain are faithful. Culturally the northern and southern dunadain have been seperated for 3000 years and a lot of people would have issues with being ruled by someone so other to them, even if he had lived among them for 10 years (though that does help). But in the end the lords of gondor are almost all dunadain and they all have to abide by the tenets of their faith, or '''fall''' and become '''lesser men''' than even the rohirrim (terrible I know 🙄) so they really had no choice but to support Aragorn in the end.

However, reason #2

Minas Tirith's armies were absolutely decimated after a weeks long siege and war before that, and what few soldiers were left were exhausted and barely functioning. Aragorn arrived at their gates and broke the siege with a full army who'd only done ONE fight and told everyone he was king of Gondor. What was Imrahil gonna do, say no?

[eddiemadmunson]

Angel - part 2

Summary: You are Heleana’s best friend and one day you catch Aemond’s eye and everything in your life will change upside down.

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: dirty talk, suggestive themes

A/N: English is not my first language.

Aemond is 20, Helaena, Aegon and Y/N are 22, Jason Lannister is 25

Tag: @the-phantom-of-arda @hamatoanne  @aemondsdoll @schniiipsel  @okfashionista​ @zillahvathek​ @teranya​ @tempo-rary-fix​ @reneki​ 

Part 1

It took you some time to explain to Jason that nothing happened. Aemond was just kind enough to give you a ride here. Well it was an exaggeration but you really didn't want to tell your boyfriend about all the things Aemond told you. Jason hated all the Targaryen's with passion. Their families were rivals on the business field. They fathers always tried to steal the business deal from the other one. But Jason hated the Targaryen brothers for different reasons. Aemond kicked his younger brother out of the football team for being lazy and not good enough - his words. And Aegon seduced both of Jason's twin sisters and left them heartbroken and hating on each other. Aegon was the real heartbreaker. They both were. But Aemond was picky when it came to girls he wanted to fuck, Aegon didn't care that much. He was flirting with anyone who had vagina. You once saw him flirting with the old lady in the library, probably trying to get access to the restricted area. Helaena forbit him to ever try something on you. So he never flirted with you in front of her. But if he met you at school while his sister wasn't around he flirted shamelessly with you. But you usually ignored him, you were too smart to fall into his web.

When you walked through the school halls with Helaena the next day you asked her to never bother Aemond because of you ever again. "Come on Y/N, it was nothing," she waved her hand dismissively at you. "He was so upset when the girl ditched him. I ruined his plans," you explained and she shook her head. "Don't worry about my brother not getting laid, I am sure he called one of his other fan girls to suck his dick," she said as you reached the lockers. You stopped abruptly when you saw Aemond standing in front of your locker with Floris Baratheon glued to his side, kissing her like there is no tomorrow. "Ewww, see he is totally fine, no damage was done to his ego," she gagged as you two watched her brother devouring Floris in front of everyone. You felt your cheeks turning red, you hated public display of affection, but damn, he was kissing her with such passion. His big hand with long pale fingers covered her entire face and big portion of her neck. His other hand was wrapped around her waist, keeping her glued to him. He was kissing her possessively, his tongue deep in her mouth, she was emitting soft whimpers, holding onto him tightly. You licked you dry lips unconsciously. You tried to fight it but you really wished to be her at this moment. “This is disgusting,” Helaena sneared, gagging.  “Y/N, why are you looking at him like this. Please, don’t tell me that you fancy my baby brother,” Hel asked with scrunched nose when she noticed your intense staring. “What, no, of course not!” you lied through your teeth. “It’s just... I have never been kissed like this,” you said in awe. “What? Are you kidding me? Jason doesn’t kiss you?” she asked with raised eyebrow. “Of course he kisses me, but not like this. His kisses are not this passionate and never this long,” you admitted. You were fascinated, his mouth was glued to Floris’ for so long, it seemed like he doesn’t need to breath. “There is too much tongue for my liking,” Hel said. “Omg, what am I doing? Why am I commenting on his kissing technique, that’s so gross,” she said with disgusted frown. “Y/N, seriously, you need to dump that moron. He is so boring, you two live like an old married couple and not like an young couple in love,” Hel nudge you and you finally stopped staring at Aemond. “I am happy with him, he is nice, he is safe,” you said weakly. “Nice... sure... we need to plan a girls night and talk you out of this. I will call Rhaena and Baela and we will explain to you, how it should look like when you are head over heels for a guy,” she winked at you and you rolled your eyes, but arguing with Hel was pointless. She always got what she wanted. “We need to go,” she reminded you.  “I can’t, I need my history project and it’s locked inside my locker,” you sighed. “Do you want me to kick him out of there?” she asked you and you shook your head. “No, I can do it myself,” you assured her and she kissed your cheek and ran to the entomology class she had with Cregan. He hated insects but he loved Helaena so much that he wanted to spend more time with her. You sighed and slowly approached the couple. “Ehm, excuse me guys,” you tried, but they didn’t seem to notice you. “Excuse me, you are standing in front of my locker,” you tried again more loudly, but once again with no avail. You had no other chance than to tug at his sleeve. “Aemond, move, you are blocking my locker,” you groaned impatiently. They finally stopped kissing and Aemond looked at you with murderous look on his pretty face. “What? If you also want a kiss, wait in line,” he barked at you and Floris giggled stupidly. “I don’t want a kiss, you asshole, I want to get inside my locker before my class starts,” you snapped at him, finally having enough of his attitude.   “I need to go anyway, baby, my lesson starts in 5 minutes,” Floris smiled and pecked his lips once again before rushing away from him. He finally moved and you could grab your stuff. You took your project and closed your locker. You turned around with intention to go to your history class when you were pushed against the lockers. The hall was almost empty everyone was already in their classrooms. Aemond caged you between the lockers and his tall body. “What are you doing?” you asked, hating that your voice is trembling. “You seem to ruin my sex life lately, Y/N. Do you enjoy being a little cockblock for me?” he asked, dark smile played on his lips. “I don’t care about your sex life,” you protested and looked away from his intense gaze but gasped when he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him again. “It didn’t seem like it when you were staring at me kissing her for good five minutes,” he smirked when you blushed wildly. “I am surprised that you noticed anyone at that moment, you seemed to be pretty lost in the kiss,” you snapped at him and victorious smile spread on his face. “Are you jealous, angel? Did you imagine yourself in her place? Did you imagine me kissing you so hard that your lips will tingle?” his thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you shook your head no, not trusting your voice. “No? I think you are a liar, Y/N,” he teased you and leaned to your ear. “I think you wish to know how does it feel to be kissed like this, how does it feel to be devoured like this. You want to be kissed so good that you will get wet just from the simple act of kissing,” he chuckled darkly when you gasped at his crude words.  “Let me go!!” you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your hands easily and pushed them above your head, holding them there with one hand. “I can see right through you, angel. Little miss proper and decent, but deep down you want to be fucked hard and rough. You are saying no and let me go, but I can see it in your eyes, you want me,” he cooed, his voice smooth like a dark velvet. His long elegant fingers caressed your cheek and chin slowly, softly like a lover would do, distracting you for a second then he wrapped them around your neck. A shiver run through your body, you felt your hardened nipples brush against your bra and the wetness began pooling between your legs. “Let me go Aemond, please,” you tried again to get out of his grasp with different approach. “Look at you, Y/N. Already begging me,” he smirked. “Let me go, you asshole or I will start screaming,” you threatened him but his grip on your neck only tightened. “Oh, you will scream, angel. You will be screaming my name, begging me for more,” he said cockily, licking his lips slowly. “In your dreams, Aemond. Let me go!” you tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was pointless he was too strong and so much taller than you. “I am not like you, angel. I don’t need to dream about the person I want to fuck, I just go and fuck them,” his arrogance was truly endless, who the fuck does he think he is? “I don’t dream about fucking you, I don’t think about you like this, you are just my best friend’s younger brother,” you said stubbornly and he watched you with knowing smile. “So you want to tell me, that if I touch your pussy right now, you won’t be soaking wet for me?” he chuckled when he saw your scandalized face. “Don’t you dare to touch me,” you warned him. “Why, are you scared that I am right? Are you scared that you will like it, that you will let out that pretty little moan like you did when you sat on my bike?” he mocked you and you were mortified. “Yeah, angel, I heard you. I am wondering what other pretty noises I can get out of this mouth,” he leaned closer to you, his lips almost touching yours. Every single cell in your body was on high alert. “S-s-shut up,” you stuttered, fighting the urge to close the gap between you and taste his soft looking lips. “If you think that I will say make me and we will kiss, I think that you saw too many romantic movies, Y/N,” he provoked you and suddenly his grip on your body was gone. You almost fell on your ass, when he wasn’t holding you anymore. “See you later, angel. I have other stuff to do than making virgin’s wet dreams coming true,” and he left with dark chuckle, leaving you there absolutely humiliated. “I am not a virgin!” you shouted after him, but he ignored you as always.

When the day was finally over and you walked to the parking lot to wait for Jason to pick you up, you still felt the humiliation from this morning. The only reason, why you didn’t tell Helaena that her brother is being a major dick to you, was because you knew how much she loves him and you didn’t want to cause problems between the siblings. You can handle him on your own, you tried to convince yourself. You looked at your watch and sighed, Jason was late as always. He worked at his father’s company and he always got swamp up in paperwork. You looked around yourself and spotted Aegon’s yellow Ferrari right next to Aemond’s motorbike. They probably still have training. There will be a very important game coming next week so they trained extra hours. The curiosity got better of you and you walked closer to the car. It was beautiful, you always wanted to take a ride in it, but you would never ask Aegon for it. He would take it as an invitation to fuck you in it. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you heard familiar voice and you gulped and slowly turn around. Aegon was grinning at you while Aemond watched you with unreadable expression. “Hi Aegon, it’s gorgeous,” you admitted and smiled friendly at Aegon, completely ignoring Aemond next to him. “I can take you for a ride, if you want, beautiful,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “No, thank you, I am waiting for someone to give me a lift,” you stopped his shameless flirting. “So maybe next time, tomorrow, maybe?” he didn’t give up and Aemond scoffed. “Sure, I can tell Helaena. I am sure that she and Cregan would like to go to a little trip,” you chuckled when you saw his smirk dropping. “I was thinking about only me and you, Y/N,” he didn’t give up so easily. “Sunfyre purrs like a giant cat, I bet that you would like to feel the power of its engine under you,” he wrapped his hand around your shoulders and purred into your ear. “She prefers to have bike engine vibrating between her legs, brother. It makes her let out very interesting noises,” Aemond said and smirked when you looked at him with venom in your eyes. “No one asked about your opinion, asshole,” you barked at him, your cheeks getting red again. Aegon gently placed his finger on your chin, turning your head to look at him. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He is jealous that daddy didn’t buy him a car like this,” he smirked when he saw how frustrated you are.   Suddenly you heard a loud honk. You slowly turned around, knowing that you are screwed. “Oh fuck me,” you cursed when you saw very angry looking Jason staring at you from his black BMW. “No problem, just say when and where, beautiful,” Aegon grinned and Aemond rolled his eye. “What is this moron doing here?” Aemond scoffed and you realized in horror that Aegon’s hand is still wrapped around your shoulder. “That for me, I have to go, bye Aegon,” you quickly unwrapped yourself from his grip and ran to Jason’s car. “Why is she riding with him?” Aemond asked and Aegon looked at him in surprise. “They have been dating for almost a year,” Aegon looked at him in surprise. “That explains a lot,” Aemond smirked and put on his helmet. If this moron was really your boyfriend you had to be bored to death and dry as a bone. “What do you mean, brother?” Aegon asked, confused about Aemond’s sudden interest in you. You were not his type at all. “None of your business,” Aemond smirked and drove off the parking lot leaving confused Aegon behind. 

Part 3

[searchingforserendipity25]

'envy is unbecoming.'

'then you ought not to make bribes from the east so beautiful, or at least keep your brother's best steeds for yourself! you know not the treasure you have in maglor,' said fingon.

he ran his hands gently down the sides of the mare, to test her sleek muscles, see how her ears twitched fearlessly.

'maglor sent his excellent horseflesh from the gap into your stables - my stables and my kennels and all my halls are silent of brother and sister, and you sit in your great fortress gnawing at impatience because your brother wants more riders.'

'more riders, more supplies, and no armour at all -'

'you do not want to be covered in steel when against a dragon, be sensible -'

'orcs care not for these sensible precautions. and he is enjoying making battle on wyrms too dearly. he keeps challenging them to games of song and riddles - it's unbecoming.'

fingon laughed. not an excellent elder brother, fingon; fond in his great steadfast way, but it would not cross his mind to fret about the weapons and wear of his siblings - he was not enough their lord, and trusted them too well.

which was perhaps how he misplaced two of them in one mistake, and barely noticed before harvesting season.

maedhros would have gone quite mad in his position, but then he never would be in this position. he was wise enough to give his brothers realms of their own, right where he could see them.

'maglor would not bite the mastering hand and drift away into mist with an army.'

maedhros snorted. 'not for lack of wishing, i suspect. can i interest you in a binding oath sworn unto all the powers of arda? it tends to suit quite well as a bridle on wayward siblings.'

'they would not swear a thing i should believe,' fingon said.

his mouth was supple still, in the half-gloom of himring's great stables, but eyes were tight. slating amber light fell on him, gilded his ribbons and the paint on his lids, made him apiece with the dusty quiet, the straw-smells. 'not they that swore fealty to fingolfin, and broke it on a whim. perhaps i do envy you.'

maedhros had kept to fingon's back, a decorous half-step behind, making himself a warm barrier against the bitter draft. he laid a hand over his, where it was stroking the mare's mane.

in closeness, he could feel fingon's shifting thoughts, his spirits like a wind-rush, full of its own momentum always.

it had fascinated him, when he was younger - how forceful and shameless in thinking and speaking his half-cousin was, swift to laughter and tears and friendship.

it had seemed the greatest foolishness to him, to go shield-less and bold through life.

he showed it to fingon, the silver-lit memory of tirion's squares and tirion's gossip. 'then maglor would chide me,' maedhros said. 'and claim you had the greatest courage. still i think you are very foolish. you ought to stop playing favourites, o prince.'

fingon's cheek pressed against his chin, dimpling, and then growing damp. maedhros felt the sting of his grief as sharply as the cold wind seeping through his furs, for to fingon all grief as a desolation of the weather.

he came to himring only after returning to barad eithel empty handed. after scouring all the wild places he could find, singing to old oaks and firs with begging voice to betray the secrets of the lady aredhel, whom they loved - putting his ears to stone and dust, spying for his brother's tread.

he had not wept under his father's eye, kneeling in shame for his failure. harvest was finished, and vinyamar gathered sand-drifts on its high, spiraling flight of stairs, and stray lynxes came to mate and breed and fight in their rooms.

fingolfin did worry, and moreover fingolfin felt any touch of betrayal dreadfully.

fingon would not betray his father, not in anything. he did not need an oath to make it so. maedhros was not without some jealousy for his king, though not for crown and sceptre.

he could not be sorry, at least, to be himring the ever-cold, where fingon the valiant came when he was furious, wretched, and in need of some relief from the encompassing sense of cool mosaic under his knees and failure in his throat.

the mare wickered, nudging at fingon's hand. an intelligent, sensitive, as maglor's breeding tended to be - fingon smiled, and breathed deep before stepping away from him.

valiant, maglor had said, during those word-guessing games they played as youths, sharing insights on all they knew, preparing cunning songs and clever manoeuvres. do not discount him just yet! i have an ear for these things. see how he makes all the world fond of him, and gives generously, and lives as a prince ought; nolofinwë has made himself a champion. i daresay he is not apt to be anything else. i should think he must be very brave, not to flee for the wild, or go mad a little.

his eyes in the dark were all amber, glowing. maedhros could not imagine any walking away from him. were he mountain-stone and greening bush, he would have betrayed to him the secrets of any lost realm. he would have found it himself - if he were anything but himself.

'do not ask me to impartial,' fingon decreed. he touched the corner of maedhros's mouth to him, a brief warmth. he was moving already onwards, thinking new thoughts fresh and brimming over with the engine's work of his mind, making bright again the paltry sun of the stable's gloom. 'i am not king, merely the prince that remains! the lords of the east keeps paying the most outrageous weregild, and i need the horses. i am naming her for a spear or some such, i think - but my father the king will have the stallion.'

[symphonyofsilence]

At all times I'm thinking about the poetic grandiose, the wretched grace, the brutal beauty, the hard-won victory, and the sad magnificence with which Maedhros falls.

It's about the way Maedhros finally gives in and yields to what he's been fighting against since the first kinslaying, the way he still has his unyielding determination & great battle strategies but when once they were considered good qualities of him now they drive him and the Middle-earth he once fought so hard to protect to their demise, the way Celegorm was the driving force behind the second kinslaying but still as the overlord of the Fëanorians Maedhros was the one who had the final say and decided to go with it & the third kinslaying happened with the reluctant agreement of all of the four sons despite their best effort (and they who held the borders and protected the people of Middle-earth once now ravaged a refuge) but at the end, Maedhros-who once was a beacon of hope before Nirnaeth & would not slay his kin hoping that he would free the Simarils from Melkor's grasp- was the driving force behind the fourth Kinslaying out of desperation. It's about the way he who once led the free folk against Melkor wouldn't even fight in the War of Wrath anymore. It's about how he who once held the banner against Melkor and whom Melkor was weary of at the end helped Melkor in some ways. It's about how all throughout his spiral you can see his inner turmoil & noble nature still shining through as he searches for Elured & Elurin, tries to forswear the oath, tries to negotiate in peace, and at least agrees to take Elrond & Elros in and protect them, and eventually when the Silmarils burn his hands he can't live with himself anymore. The way he loses the one battle and war that he truly wanted to win and after that in a new war that he doesn't want, wins every battle that he doesn't want with every realm but cannot win the one thing he truly wants (and the thing he supposedly "wants" is the thing that ruined his family and his life. So the Sons of Feanor in the whole Arda must have been the only ones who truly didn't "want" the Silmarils) so he still loses the war. It's about the way Maedhros' final downfall comes with him "winning" his last fight. With him "winning" the thing he spent all of the story seeking and fighting for. It's about the way that thing truly wasn't a thing Maedhros himself ever sought or desired. It's about the way in which his story truly comes to an end. Just not the end anyone hoped for but the end that anyone could see coming. The way it was both preventable and inevitable. It's about the way in the end he essentially fills the role of Fëanor against whom he was a voice of reason (if still a loyal follower) at the beginning and despite how he tried to do things differently than his father, he eventually became Fëanor. He did, in the end, burn people's ships. He did burn his way back. He did ignore Eonwe and took up arms against the Valar and convinced Maglor to do so, too. The way Fëanor always haunts the narrative from the beginning but before Nirnaeth it's in a mute far away subtle way but after Nirnaeth it becomes completely obvious to the point that it's like Maedhros' story essentially ended with Nirnaeth & it's now Fëanor's story that continues through him. Maedhros after Nirnaeth is like a dead man haunting his own life trying to finish an unfinished business so he can finally die in peace. But at the same time, at that point, it all seems like a natural, fitting end to him. He was always meant to be a tragedy.

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

AU where Thingol, not Beren, dies fighting Carcharoth

The Hunting of the Wolf begins similar to canon. Carcharoth has eaten a Silmaril and is mad with pain, destroying the woods near Doriath.

As in canon, Carcharoth leaps from the bushes at Thingol.

Beren, fighting with his off hand, still bleeding from his right wrist, is just a moment too slow.

Beren swings his spear, and wounds Carcharoth, but not before the wolf has attacked the king.

There is a bite taken from Thingol's chest, and a savage scratch in his face. Even with the strength of an ancient elf, the light of Valinor, and the love of a Maia, it is too great a wound to survive.

Beren tries to staunch the blood, but it's too late.

Thingol says to Beren, "Love her, my son." The command is unnecessary, but Thingol dies thinking of his daughter and trusting her choices.

Melian screams, and every twig in Doriath shakes with her grief. She does not leave though, not while her daughter still lives and may need her.

Huan and Carcharoth fight, and die.

Mablung cuts open the wolf's belly and takes out the Silmaril. He places it on Thingol's breast.

No one in Doriath really wants to look at the Silmaril though. This is what tore apart the royal family, what their king died for, what brought the Wolf to ruin the forest.

There is talk of burying the Silmaril with Thingol's body, but Melian refuses to have it rest in her earth. The Silmaril is at once too cursed by Fate and too blessed by the Valar.

Melian can feel the Silmaril sing, and it would bring her in harmony with the first Music if she let it, until she was nothing but an instrument of Eru's first will. She would care only for the harmony of Arda and the good of all within it.

Melian is not willing to give up her passion and grief for her husband, or her love for her daughter, or her realm.

So the Silmaril is put to the side of the royal treasury for a few months, while a funeral and a wedding are planned.

Luthien is crowned Queen, with Beren king beside her. Melian is willing to stay and guard the realm as she has for centuries, but she is less able to hold her elven form without the one who inspired her to take it up, and in truth rarely cared for elven concerns.

Queen Luthien sends announcements of her coronation to the Falas and Nargothrond and Ethel Sirion.

(Maedhros begins recruiting for an attack on Angband. Murmurs in Doriath are that he is driven by shame, with the cowardice of his brothers compared to Luthien now known to all.)

Beren sends a letter to the people of Nargothrond, who have suffered as great a loss as the people of Doriath, with the loss of their king. He does not regret asking Finrod for help, but he grieves with them.

Privately, he tells Luthien that he wishes he had something of his own to offer, some token to remember Finrod, the bravest warrior in all elvendom.

Beren could give back the ring of Barahir, but he would just as soon keep it as his own memento, of promises kept and loyal friends.

Luthien has an idea.

It may be a terrible idea, but she is Queen, and all the treasures of Doriath are hers to with as she pleases. No one stops her.

In truth, no one argues that hard. Luthien and her husband are the ones who went on a dangerous quest, so the prize is theirs to do with as they will. Thingol might have standing to argue, but he's dead.

So Mablung, as the one who cut open the wolf's belly, is sent as emissary to King Orodreth, with a package he touches as little as possible.

Orodreth meets Mablung in a private room, after what a mess allowing an outsider to declare their business in the town square was last time.

(Not that Orodreth puts it that way, of course. But if Beren had mentioned the Ring and the Quest where none beside Finrod could hear, the Feanorians would not have learned until it was too late, and Finrod would have marched on Tol-in-Gaurhoth with a full army. He would have lived, Orodreth is sure of it.)

So there is none but Mablung to see how Orodreth's relaxes for a moment at the first moment of Treelight across his face, then nearly drops the Silmaril when he realizes what he is holding.

Orodreth cannot refuse the gift. It would be terribly insulting to Doriath, and all it would do would be move the looming bloodshed to his sister's home rather than his own.

Passing the Silmaril on would be an insult, even as tribute to King Fingon. And giving it to the sons of Feanor is as good as declaring himself open enemies with Doriath.

Orodreth asks Mablung to tell no one in the city what he has brought, to say only that Beren and Luthien grieve Finrod's death and sent a token. Mablung agrees easily enough, not being in the habit of gossip.

But much of Doriath knows, and though trade with the guarded realm is scarce, it is present. The secret may last for weeks or months, but in a year or two everyone will know that Nargothrond houses a Silmaril.

Including the sons of Feanor.

Orodreth locks the Silmaril in the most secure vault, to which only he has key, and thinks.

After a few days, he summons Celebrimbor before the court.

Orodreth declares Celebrimbor the Steward of the Vaults, responsible not for the daily spending of the kingdom, but for the safety and upkeep of the gems and elaborate ornaments that belong to the king.

Orodreth made the position up just now, but he gives it real responsibility. He doesn't wear the Nauglamir as his brother did, but neither does he want it stolen, and it needs the links oiled and the gems polished.

Celebrimbor is a jewelsmith, and a perfectly reasonable choice for the role.

And in the private audience afterwards, Orodreth emphasizes that Celebrimbor has authority over the vaults second only to his own. If Celebrimbor wishes a piece repaired, or a gem reset, he needs consult no other, even if it's a piece made by Feanor himself and brought from Valinor.

And speaking of things made by Feanor...

Celebrimbor is a bit insulted that he was given the role more due to the family he denounced than due to his skill. But he is not so insulted as to refuse the title, or the chance to closely examine so many masterpieces of jewelcraft.

Neither Celebrimbor or Orodreth are sure if this counts as hiding and hoarding a Silmaril, but it's now under the care of Feanor's kin so the Oath should be satisfied.

Right?

[hhimring]

Before the Last Battle

@feanorianweek, on Celegorm.

A tiny snippet from a timeline in which Celegorm forged a kind of friendship with Elwing, once he was released from Mandos. For an earlier Feanorian Week, I believe, I posted a snippet where that unlikely alliance begins when Celegorm tries to help a wounded gull, getting hacked for his pains, and Elwing sees this. This new snippet is set at the beginning of the Dagor Dagorath.

Celegorm looked up to where Elwing flew above him, a gleam of white in the fitful lighting of the lightning-rent sky, and spoke to her in gull speech.

‘Let us do battle together, Lady! We cannot go as high as your husband, into the cold reaches above Arda, but let us do what we can here below!’

Elwing let out a fierce, ear-splitting cry. Her seabirds flocked closer.

Celegorm raised his spear.

‘Behold, my friends! We fight together, at last, and, if it is the last battle, let it be a good one!’

[lilyofthelaiquendi]

Eonwe: The greatest of Arms in Arda

Pencil drawing on paper

"When Eärendil reached the shores of Aman to make his appeal, it was Eönwë who first greeted him outside of Tirion praising his arrival and accomplishments. When Manwë decided to heed the appeal, Eönwë was sent to Middle-earth to fight the War of Wrath, leading the Host of the Valar."

Reading this part in The Silmarillion a few years ago had me imagining like crazy and in the end was compelled to at least try to draw this Maia cuz I love him 😭💘

[annoyinglandmagazine]

The hall swelled with jesting, laughter, negotiation and clatter. At the centre of the long tables was the Sindar delegation, the Lord of Himring and two other sons of Feanor. And said lord was panicking. He looked side to side at everyone engaged in conversation while easily nibbling at the feast in between sentences. He knew that it would be seen as highly suspicious if he consumed no food himself and would possibly lead to a poisoning theory if such a thing was blown out of proportion.

How had he not thought of this? He’d trained himself to fight with his left hand alone but he should have realised that one hand would not suffice for all tasks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him while he was planning for the feast but only when he looked down at the knife and fork that had been set in front of him. It hadn’t occurred to anyone else and why should it? He was leading an army why should anyone have been thinking about whether he was competent enough to fulfil basic table manners?

Just then there was a commotion a few seats to his left and every eye on the room was on Maglor as he began to sing unprompted. It was a new composition about the making of Arda and instantly captivated everyone. Maedhros restrained an eye roll at his brother’s need to turn every event into an opportunity for an audience.

When it finished he resigned himself to look back at his plate and contemplate the most diplomatic course of action when he stopped short. This wasn’t his plate. Suddenly the idea of poisoning at the table didn’t seem so ridiculous. Just as he was about to discreetly get his guards attention he met Caranthir’s eyes from his place at his side. His younger brother subtly gave him the signal for crisis averted that they had used so many times in their childhood.

Then Moryo began to cut his meat which Maedhros could have sworn he’d seen him do painstakingly at the beginning of the feast as he always had. Moryo always needed everything to be precise. Maedhros suddenly realised what had happened when he looked down and realised that all the food on the plate was cut into precise squares that he wouldn’t have any difficulty eating with just the fork.

He felt his face heat at the idea that his younger brothers had noticed his predicament and felt the need to help him save face. That he had needed their help for something he should have been able to do with ease. Then Moryo turned to him to bring him into the debate over taxation he was having. He got into it and Moryo argued with and tore apart his very point just as he always did just as Maedhros did the same.

Maedhros felt himself relax as it went on. This came easily, he could do this and no one needed to give him any allowances. Moryo looked at him with the same look he always did, no pity visible. When the people on either side of them had looked away momentarily Caranthir reached out slowly and squeezed his shoulder with a little conspiratorial smile and a whisper in his ear ‘it’s us against them Nelyo. Anything you need we’re here. You’d do the same for any of us.’