#gil-galad/gwindor

[searchingforserendipity25]

prompts to choose from!! gil-galad/anyone + pet names OR finrod/beor + chains OR eonwe/finarfin + fealty

this was so hard to choose (and i might come back with more stuff for the other options). here's some galad/gwindor. thank you so much for the ask @welcomingdisaster! you've opened my heart to deeper gil-galad appreciation <3 <3

@silmsmutweek. day three. prompt: liege/vassal, trans and nonbinary identities (and some supernatural elements):

acquaintances you greet in the street

It was not as strangers that they met, nor lovers reunited beyond death. It was all a thing anew - a new knowing, rich with recognition and marvel, an eager reacquaintance. Gwindor could not wait to escape his company. 

“I am afraid I have a commitment in the morrow,” Gwindor said firmly. 

Gil-Galad's braids shone with the cuffs and seashell beads of the Falathrim; the swift expanse of his movements, as he spoke and made his bracelets and rings catch the light was all Noldor; the eloquence of his tongue and manners were spoken in the way of the Sindarin spoken in the time of his reign, a dialect all its own. Gwindor would have known him anywhere, under any name. It was not as strangers that they met, nor lovers reunited beyond death. It was all a thing anew - a new knowing, rich with recognition and marvel, an eager reacquaintance. 

Gwindor could not wait to escape his company. 

“Surely not so soon,” Gil-Galad said, sounding genuinely disappointed, as if he truly did yearn for another long hour of trading island gossip and studiously not speaking of anything that had taken place before the Third Age with the living specter of his old betrothed.

Of his old life, older by far than his death, and finished not less violently or thoroughly. Gwindor had taken care not to cross paths with him, up and down the narrow sandstone alleys of Avallonë, for nearly a year now, and not merely to spare himself from grief and awkwardness.

"A very pressing engagement," Gwindor stressed. He would not rise from the blankets and the pillows, leave the plates with the last of the fruit to the flies and go without leave, would not be discourteous towards the king for anything - and therefore he had done his best to avoid him altogether.

Gwindor’s heart tripped on itself again. He did have a commitment - the goats would not milk themselves. Most importantly, Gelmir would tease him mercilessly until Túrin returned to destroy Morgoth if Gwindor arrived late and starry-eyed after being surprised in the streets by his old betrothed.

He had his house in the hillside to return to - the date trees with the sly cats sleeping in the hot adobe of the steps, the small, kindly bats that liked to skim the top of his head to steal fair strings of hair to play with. Always his house kept its doors opens, to welcome the breeze, and those that came, at times, to greet and speak with Gelmir and Gwindor.

Gwindor had been the first to return to life, of those that had been enthralled by Morgoth. He owed much to the guidance of those that had been freed with the fall of Angband, and had welcomed him through his slow and faltered Return. In his turn he welcomed the ones that wished for counsel. Most often all that was wanted was a quiet place, some tasks to do in his workshop, warm food and silent company.

He had wondered. When Gil-Galad came to the island - for it was known in all the songs that the last king of Beleriand and Eregion had been lost in spirit long Ages before coming back to life. But never did his shoulders stand against the threshold of the house in the hills; and Gwindor had told himself to be glad all the way through, for it meant the king was not so desperate as to seek even his company.

Gil-Galad did not press again outright; only smiled again, something sharper around the edges. "I understand perfectly. Will it be the crate of oysters this time, or do you mean to flee me in such fright as to jump into the sea?"

He was almost unbearably handsome to look upon when he was being prickly. It hurt Gwindor with a sweet and blooming ache, as much as it had when he had caught a glance of him coming down the quay, arriving to the island of his people - and immediately hidden behind a barrel of fresh mussels to avoid being seen.

"I," Gwindor said, very politely. "Am quite certain I know not of which you speak, lord; but I am certain there shall be plenty of mischances, if you wish for them to pass."

An accident, their meeting - A happy mischance, Gil-Galad had named it. Gwindor doubted it. Gil-Galad did not believe in accidents; they had courted each other with many an unlikely ambush by the shores of the river Sirion, once.

An invitation for a drink, in the stretch of pale sand in front of the king's sea-facing house - and another, and a platter of fish, fried fruit and honeycomb. All of Gwindor's old favourite indulgences, and other ones, too, in case his tastes had changed with death and new life. Gil-Galad had poured the wine, cooked the marvellous dinner, smiled his slow, dazzlingly rakish smile at Gwindor over the candles and the tablecloth spread on the sand no less than five times. 

This was quite enough for an evening out. The king was generous; Gwindor did not cheapen his kindness in the least, but neither did he suppose any greater intent to be behind it. 

The stars were high in the sky, their light glinting upon Gil-Galad’s long braids, his fair lashes; and Gwindor kept remembering himself sternly that fealty was well, infatuation was to be expected, but there was nothing else to make him linger.

 Gil-Galad met his eyes evenly, as if relenting. Gwindor did not believe that, either.

He offered a kind hand for Gwindor to hold. A friend might do such a thing in parting, and a lord to his vassal; Gwindor had no right to it as either, but he could not have shamed such generosity for anything.

"Farewell, then, dear friend," said Gil-Galad, a little pointed, holding out his hand for clasping. He tilted his chin, met his eyes charmingly. "May it not be the last I meet sweet Gwindor in this life; rare has there been so welcome a sight to my eyes since my return."

Gwindor ought to have done better and more courteously; but the familiarity unmade him a little. Perhaps Gelmir was right, and he did spend too much time with his woodwork, wandering the groves of olive trees, because despite himself a noise of disdain slipped his throat at the words.

Gil-Galad straightned, pale brows drawing together in a frown, and it was enough for Gwindor's heart to leap.

The king of the Noldor looked down at Gwindor, close enough to grasp and as distant and proud as a star, and said, "Do you doubt me?"

"Never," Gwindor said, appalled at the notion. "You need prove nothing to me, lord."

"O, I am certain I do! I hoped you knew it, though I would not wonder if you were uncertain!” Gil-Galad raised a hand to forestall any denials. “I do not apologize for the course of my heart - you never wished for such entreaties, and I would love you less if you had. How bitterly I know now the sting of that kindness! I live, and I look upon you, marveling at your strength; and I do find you most lovely to behold.”

This was a bit too plainly an offer to be quite convincing, Gwindor thought, though he could not what kind. He wondered whether it was the gifts and interest of a courtship - or something like it, an encounter between people that had cherished and pitied each other greatly.

If he were a greater fool he might suspect a lordly offer - meat and mead, a place to rest as the stars rose, an offer of protection and vassalage and shared devotion of the kind that had been usual in Nargothrond, made popular by Felegund after his meeting with the Edain, and his exchange of vows with Bëor.

He was not quite certain how tightly he had managed to hide away the thought; Gil-Galad's frown deepened.

Aloud, Gwindor insisted. "You have given me more of your time than ever I could think to claim." More quietly, he added, "Your kindness does me honour beyond expectation, king. I thank you truly for your time this evening."

He did not mean to sound bitter. He did not sound bitter, not even to his own ears; he was well past such things. But his voice was weary - he thought once more of his house with its pale curtains, his brother's limping steps on the porch, so like his own. He had grown - unused, to being looked at so intently.

“Honour! I should hope so," Gil-Galad said - and it was so like Gwindor's own tone in the worst days, dismayed and seeking to hide it, that he could not help how wanting to reach out. "It is my pleasure; and my obligation, if you would have me as liege. I see now that that was a presumptuous hope."

It was remarkable how mobile his face was - when last Gwindor had known him, there had been a terrible stillness over his expression. Nothing of his this verve - only a terrible passion, and the persistent foresight of its terrible end to come. Gwindor was sorry at once to watch the line of his back grow sterner, even as he could not help looking away from the slant of his mouth, movement of his bare arms, the chest hidden by his loose doublet.

Gwindor could not help himself - he stepped forward just before Gil-Galad's preferred hand could fall entirely to his side.

He could not bear to watch that shadow come again over this beloved face, and to know himself the cause. It had been hard enough to bear, the first time, when he could do nothing to ease it - and this time, Gil-Galad's doubt was almost as ridiculous as Gwindor's evasion tactics.

It was entirely unfair, Gwindor thought very faintly, how some people left the Halls of Mandos radiant with new life, brimming with great internal joy and offering it lightly, easily to all old friends that crossed their path - unfair to them, who felt the world with renewed sensitivity, and felt all losses keenly. Gil-Galad was one such, plainly.

Of course, Gwindor had returned at peace with himself and his deeds, his failures and defiance, bearing those scars he chose and no others. But like most of those that returned with the marks of thralldom visible upon their flesh, he had chosen to pilgrimage in the green wilds of Valinor before rejoining society, and struggled to gather the same ease in company that had once been his without a thought.

He spoke with his heart instead, and little grace, and hoped greatly that it was enough not to make Gil-Galad step even further away from the circle light of their resting place amidst the dark beach.

"You have ever have my fealty. Take you as my liege, in this time of peace!" Gwindor’s words trembled, almost laughing. It was absurd to say it - to speak of it aloud, to have cause to mention it. “My lord, I would choose you always, in war or peace, to Doom and beyond Doom. Surely you had always known this.” 

Gil-Galad did not seem better able to look away from him. He accounted it a marvel merely to feel those strong fingers slot between his own. To feel that heart’s steady beating once more, so dear a song. So, too, Gil-Galad looked at their pressed palms - with a glittering eye, a deep and well-pleased sigh.

His hold was so warm. Gwindor had not noted how cold the night had grown, and found a shudder sliding down his back now.

He grasped his palmed Gwindor’s arm, and smoothed his fingertips over the gentle skin of his wrist. Where once the thick scars of shackle burns had been, thin lines remained - soft, soft to the touch, where Gil-Galad kissed them. 

Gwindor’s eyes burned. He looked at the bent head of silvered hair blindly, the hands that did not flinch from him - something out of a fever dream, or a bitter wish swallowed down. Something he had died for, in another life. 

"Say that again," Gil-Galad said. Gwindor shivered to look at him, for his eyes were very bright, and all the power of his voice very even. "It pleases me so, to hear you say it! I like being your lord, Gwindor. Sweet Gwindor, faithful to the last! I missed you more than you think, more than you know. Say I may be your friend, your lover, he that has you faith - say you will honour me and do me honour, as ever you did."

Sweet Gwindor he had been, by the green shores of the Sirion, in the glittering caves and carved halls of Nargothrond. Sweet Gwindor clad in mail and iron armour, pressing his brow and his lips to his lady's hand before he went to war.   Sweet Gwindor, well after all the sweetness was tormented out of him, when her hand was cold as dead in his, that cold dawn when Orodreth's host followed Túrambar to ruin.

"Lord," Gwindor said helplessly. He was stricken through, catching fire. Gil-Galad's words were as a spark on dry kindling, the tender-talk on that deep voice that had stolen his heart and, it seemed, kept it still. Gwindor was altogether chagrined at himself - or he supposed he would be in the morning, if he could think sensibly by then. "My lord."

He could not keep himself from smiling. There had been a time when even to move his face and pretend at pleasure was an effort, and another when he did it rarely not to discompose those who saw him - but Gil-Galad pressed an inquiry, skimming it gently over his mind, and the touch of his mind was so much his own that Gwindor thought his face might never lose this foolish look of delight again. 

There was no need to pretend. He had conceded to going mad for the evening already. He gave his accent, and could not quite help the way his breathing went fast and uneven when Gil-Galad touched the edge of his scarred wrist reverently, kissed his chin and his cheeks, huffing his own smile against him.

“Finally I catch you,” he said, smiling, enthralling in his arrogance - Gwindor’s knees almost failed him for the rush of warmth that filled him. “My erstwhile warrior never to be found in the training houses, my wise counsellor that avoids every meeting I call and all the ones I might attend perhaps, how pretty you are.”

“My lord you may be, but a horrid one,” Gwindor accused. “Terrible, always. I have changed my mind; I think I shall go without mastery again, or find Lord Finrod -”

Gil-Galad's laughter was close enough to thrum in Gwindor's own chest. His dimple deepened sweetly, even as his eyes glittered with the power of his attention.

"Go, certainly, if you wish to! - the sea is right there waiting for swift escape, and I am certain boulder yonder by the dunes will hide you well. Finrod would seat you gladly at their table, and Orodreth as well. But valued as Gwindor of Avallonë is, and accounted most highly among Returned and Exiles, I think you may find they have not felt your lack as keenly as I."

It could not be denied that Gil-Galad had always been an excellent and eager host.

And an excellent and eager kisser, too. Gwindor had nearly taught himself to forget it. Gil-Galad's hand caught Gwindor’s hip, pulled him flush against his strong thighs; his mouth swallowed Gwindor’s gasp in a greedy, familiar embrace. 

His blood rose fast, as he had known it would if given the slightest incentive. It was not Gwindor’s first encounter since returning to life, but the first in a long time. And even if it had not been, he felt helpless and well-kept under Gil-Galad’s strong grip. 

He tried to restrain himself a little more in embarrassment, but Gil-Galad bit the tip of his ear, and chided him for it.

It was too much. To be alive - to be given food and shelter, and a promise freely given. Gwindor almost regretted not having fled the island entirely - his chest hurt with feeling, and as wholesome as all of Lorien's healers agreed that it was to feel it, he was not certain just then he could do justice to their teachings.

“My lord Ereinion,” Gwindor said. Tears sprung to his eyes; he dashed the first of them away, before Gil-Galad took that duty over for himself. He could not allow for there to be any doubt - not between them, not after so long! “You must know I regret nothing - only that I could not outlast my end, and live to serve you longer.”

The words leapt from him and left him aching, as heartful and fervent as ever he had whispered his devotion to the same mouth, in another continent and in another Age to someone bearing a different name.

Gil-Galad’s face shone, ferocious and fey in the candlelight. He was a stranger; but Gwindor adored him not the less for it.

“Then serve me in this life, that I might have your counsel always; and that we shall heed each other a little better,” he said warmly, and let his own eyes fill with saltwater without shame or embarrassment.

He draped his warm grasp on the small of Gwindor’s back, holding him steady - lightly enough that he could step back, if he wished, meaningfully enough that there was no question as to his offer.

Gwindor shivered again. Gil-Galad's fingers splayed wide and strong against his spine were enough to dry his throat, wake his body to his own desire.

“If you wish it,” said  Gil-Galad. He made no move to shrug away the hand Gwindor laid on his arm to steady himself, but neither, Gwindor understood, was he keen on baring his skin to touch. He pressed his nose to Gwindor's neck for a moment, nuzzled gently at the side of cheek. “I have no ring of lordship to offer you, nothing but myself - and myself you know better than none I shall not give lightly, nor offer any promise that I cannot keep. Yet I should like to give you a mark of my esteem, for the faith you have given me anew. Thy lord I would be, and thy king, and in the love of fealty I hold thee most dear. Gwindor, pray let me -"

Gwindor had been of a roving bent in his youth, a warrior in the service of king Finrod, and had loved the heir of the steward of Sirion for his open doors, his devoted care for the people that followed Orodreth. Gil-Galad had turned all of himself to upholding the governance of Nargothrond in Finrod’s absence, as much as had been allowed and possible to him. 

It was no wonder, then, that he had done the same to the crown of the Noldor, after all others that might claim it perished. No wonder that Gwindor’s wandering heart turned to him still so easily. Everything in him was warm and fulfilled, glad beyond words to see those eyes, that neck, to feel that mind rustle against his - bright as ever and brighter still, changed and altered to a fiercer gleam. 

And just as beloved. Turning down another alley and escaping to his quiet and well-beloved house would not have changed it - he was glad, after all, that Gil-Galad at least was brave enough to set an ambush, call his name, take his hand under the stars.

This, Gwindor despaired, was why the silly scurrying had seemed so necessary. He would permit Gil-Galad anything. He would give him whatever measure of him he wished to have, and resent not a morsel of it. To be known as he was and know again was the easiest thing. It had never been his pride or his trust that was wounded; only himself. And Gil-Galad, who made himself anew, and was doing it again, and had sought him out as a thing to be brought back and prized from the wreck of the long years.

He showed Gil-Galad what he had seen, when he had spied his coming to Tol Eressëa. The great stranger so familiar to his eyes, the king that embraced so many in greeting, whose eyes caught the sunlight with wisdom and might. Uncrowned and plainly-dressed, still he had been to the eyes of any who saw him a lord of power, venerable and good.

Gwindor had heard all the tales, all the lays and histories of his reign; he had loved him without knowing it, and known he loved at the sight of him. It had been him that Gwindor had longed and avoided in his longing, the one he had wished to follow and hoped while hoping to be sought by.

Anything, Gwindor thought, shedding the bindings that bound back his thought as if from a stranger. I am thine, from your hand I should take any gift as a pledge and a joy, and his king sighed happily.

Anything was a great deal. A careful hand held his hip; the other stroked over rib and hip, parting his way to the inside of his robes. Gil-Galad bent down from his great height, kissed him deeply and deeply, until Gwindor leaned on him entirely.

He moved against him, almost blindly; and stilled an instant later, uncertain, flush rising from his breast and filled his neck, stained his ears. But Gil-Galad only laughed, the bright sound of his voice turning the evening silver, calling down the starlight -  pulled him all the closer. He slotted their mouth and legs again easily, tilting down to kiss Gwindor’s collarbone.

Slowly, and then all at once, he released his mind and his spirit from himself, to be taken and held in the tender shackles of Gil-Galad's rule. He felt very clearly how the king's breath hitched; the molten satisfaction that seeped through Gil-Galad entirely.

Gil-Galad reached out to hold him with his mind, all gratitude entangled with vindication, a righteous and fierce joy strong enough to leave Gwindor panting, jerking against him, light-headed and lust-drunk.

“Dear one,” Gil-Galad sighed, stroking him with slow, indolent strokes Gil-Galad's hold tugged him smooth and unchanging, impossibly steady.  Gwindor cried out, obeyed him command, let him guide the rhythm of his hips and his pulse. “Truest, sweetest Gwindor, how great a joy it is to hold thee again,” and Gwindor shuddered, trembled, fell apart: grasping Gil-Galad’s broad shoulders, gasping against the golden-silver of Gil-Galad’s braid when Gil-Galad bit the soft underside of his neck.

Gwindor sighed. As far as plain marks of claiming went, he supposed it was traditional enough the lore-masters could not complain, and it would do until a ring could be found. But really -

"Stars above, my king, Gelmir is going to be insufferable," he sighed; and Gil-Galad's shoulders shook with laughter clear enough to make the very night shine with it.

[doodle-pops]

Hi Mina, not sure if you've answered this question before. If so, feel free to ignore.

Which of the elves have a high sex drive and who has a low one? Thank you and have a nice day!

A/N: I believe I attempted this question with the Lords of Gondolin for most to least, but never all the elves. So here’s my go at all. Have a great day as well!!

High sex drive…

— FEANOR, Maedhros (Pre Angband), CELEGORM, Caranthir, Curufin, TURGON, Argon, Angrod, Glorfindel, EGALMOTH, Ecthelion, Maeglin, Beleg, Elladan

Average sex drive…

— Maglor (Pre-Darkening), Amrod, Amras, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Finarfin, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol, Erestor, Elrohir, Gil Galad

Low sex drive…

— Maedhros (Post Angband), Maglor (Post Darkening), Finrod, Galdor, Elrond, Gwindor (esp after captivity)

[welcomingdisaster]

an illustration for acquaintances you greet in the street by @searchingforserendipity25 . which is one of my favorite fics in the world that absolutely everyone should read :)

[southfarthing]

hc that gildor inglorion is the son of gelmir?? we know he's of the house of finrod, and "gildor son of gwindor" sounds cooler, but poor gwindor never got that far fhdbfjf 😩

so gildor son of gelmir, who is imprisoned and then brutally killed at the start of the nirnaeth arnoediad, which spurs his brother gwindor into charging ahead of schedule. and then miserable gwindor making it back to nargothrond to find little gildor now fatherless and unable to recognise his uncle 😔

[feanoryen]

Finweans ranked by Aura

Feanor - So powerful he sucked the life force out of his mother, invented a ton of cool shit, had more children with his wife than any of the other Eldar, died in battle while his body combusted into flames because he was just that hot, & the King of the Valar who he hated cried over him.

Earendil - Cool as hell, has a wife who's cool as hell. Predestined to be a hero even though he comes from a basic vanilla bloodline (besides his great grandpa Fingolfin). Even though most of his ancestors were nobodies or flops, most of his descendants that came after him were cool as hell.

Maedhros - Might have been higher than his father & cousin if he didn't khs, Lowkey an Aura loss moment but he makes up for a lot with his gorgeous red hair, height, surviving Morgoth's torture, & sorta fulfilling his dad's dumb oath.

Fingolfin - The only good thing his bland vanilla mother did was give birth to him. He was a total badass I've got to admit even as a Feanorian stan. Him crossing the helcaraxë & his death were top Aura moments.

Elrond/Elros - They're twins so they can share a spot too. Both badass as hell.

Fingon - Called "the Valient", braids gold into his hair, saved his sexy redheaded cousin, & became King of the Noldor. Everything about him screams Aura.

Galadriel - Despite the fact she's a Feanor anti (Booooo!!!), she admittedly has a ton of Aura. She's smarter than possibly everyone else here given she survived when the rest of her generation either got themselves killed or spends all their time being a sad beach cryptid.

Gil-Galad - Cool as hell, managed to make an alliance Maedhros could only dream of.

Maglor - Has a couple Aura loss moments but in the end he LIVED which is an Aura gain. Also gets Aura points for having the best voice in Arda.

Celebrimbor - Pretty rad dude, love how he's more like Feanor than his father Curufinwe Jr is, unfortunately he died.

Finrod - His death is cool as fuck. Looses points for cockblocking his little brother & dying for that basic joe Beren though.

Caranthir - Goth Icon. Love how despite his raging anger issues he's also an awesome guy you'd want to be friends with.

Finwe - A massive flop in a ton of ways but definitely still has Aura. Looses Aura points for failing Feanor & choosing to marry an unsexy Vanya when he could've waited for his sexy talented silver haired Noldo wife to come back to life. Only good thing about him besides his awesome hair is that he's Feanor & Fingolfin's father.

Aredhel - Cool as hell but has terrible taste in men. Her whole white aesthetic & her wild personality gain her Aura points though.

Turgon - The only cool thing about him is that he built Gondolin which wins him some Aura points. Looses Aura points for getting played by his nephew & dying pathetically though.

Idril - She's cool I guess, the only thing of note that she did was give birth to the chad Earendil. Tuor is such a basic guy though, he's not the worst but she could do better.

Aegnor - Cool hair. Pulled a baddie. Fumbled the baddie.

Angrod - Not the most stand out Finwean but he seems to be a mama's boy & he didn't do anything wrong so I'll put him above the family flops.

Finduilas - She's a sweetie but she looses Aura points for falling out of love with a great guy like Gwindor & falling in love with Turin the walking L.

Celegorm - Stupid as hell for trying to use a powerful half-Angel as a political weapon against her father. Looses more Aura points for getting abandoned by his dog & dying at the hands of said half-Angel's 30 y/o mortal son while he's over 1000 y/o. Gains some Aura points for being able to talk to animals, his hair, & his hot bastard energy.

Curufin - Feanor with 99% less Aura. His only achievement is having Celebrimbor yet he still couldn't even succeed at being Feanor 2.0 and having 7 kids to continue the family line. Had the chance to kill Eol but didn't which led to his favorite cousin dying (that's a huge L).

Finarfin - Takes after his mother in the sense he's vanilla af. The tiny percent of Aura he has is from his Noldo side obviously and he used that to pull a baddie like Earwen. All his kids get their Aura from their mother's side.

Orodreth - I like the guy, but he's definitely a dumbass with no Aura. He inherited a kingdom but isn't particularly good at anything. His only accomplishment is possibly fathering Gil-Galad.

Maeglin - Orodreth might have no Aura but this guy has negative Aura. His childhood sucked but he's such a walking L that's he's somehow more of a loser than both Celegorm & Eol combined.

[middleearth-polls]

Disclaimer: Any missing options is due to the poll limitation. I tried to select a variety of people and relationships, because Finrod's and Túrin's relationships alone could fill the poll…

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 1

Finduilas Faelivrin vs Halbarad

Finduilas Faelivrin:

The daughter of Orodreth and princess of Nargothrond. She was betrothed to Gwindor, but fell in love with Túrin when he came to Nargothrond. She died after being captured by orcs in that kingdom’s fall.

princess of a hidden kingdom having to witness the general absurdity of first age beleriand and the specific absurdity that is beren & luthien's story, turin's story, and celegorm & curufin fucking with the local politics. has one of the more brutal & memorable deaths in the silm, which is kinda a high bar. sometimes she's also gil-galad, and everyone looks at fin-galad and goes 'that's free Gender', and that's neat :)

Halbarad:

Ranger of the north & commander of the Grey Company.

He's just a neat ranger.

og ranger blorbo!! he has like three lines and one of them is about how he's gonna die if he follows aragorn on the paths of the dead and then he does anyway

He is a ranger and I love him. Enough said. ok maybe I've said "enough", but I'll keep talking anyway! he's Aragorns' bestie and they have a big ol hug as soon as they meet up in the books bc they're just so happy to see each other!!! look, look, I'm just SUCH a big supporter of men being openly platonically affectionate with one another. let Aragorn hug his ranger friend. Aragorn needs a hug. he's also the only named member of the Grey Company in the books and he gives a much needed look into how the other rangers besides Aragorn act, how he doesn't begrudge his role as a thankless protector of the Shire ("A little people, but of great worth are the Shire-folk. Little do they know of our long labor for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not.") and how even though he's implied to have foresight and knows he's going to die on the Pelenor he still follows Aragorn. (at the Paths of the Dead: "This is an evil door, and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless...") he's just. so good. I love the rangers so much :') we see so little of him but he was So important

Round 1 masterpost

[gwaedhannen]

!!! celebrian in valinor fic!!! 👀👀👀

It probably won't be out for a while yet, since I still need to figure out what the heck I'm actually doing with it. Right now I just have pure angst. Which is fun! But I'd like to get to some healing eventually.

She cannot bear Gil-Galad, so altered by the release of his long burdens that she hardly recognizes his serenity. She cannot bear Celebrimbor, once her dearest friend, now forever overlaid by his dangling corpse and his accursed shackles binding her husband and her mother to his doom. She cannot bear noble grandmother Eärwen, who has never walked the far shore and known its inundating grief. She cannot bear kind grandfather Arafinwë, always with the correct words and actions to just for a moment, make her forget how marred she is. She cannot bear radiant uncle Finrod, for what are her scars against his? She cannot bear uncle Angaráto, nor aunt Eldalótë, nor cousin Orodreth, nor the absence where uncle Aegnor should be, for her story is of little note next to the tragedies and triumphs of their age. She cannot bear the dozens and hundreds of family, old friends, old acquaintances, well-wishers she has never known. “What a pity. What a pity. What a pity!” She doesn’t want to heal. She can’t heal. The scar tissue is all she is now, layer upon layer, down into the marrow. She should have stayed and persisted in that half-life among her true family. She should have faded into a memory of rain on silver glass. She should have laid herself down in Elladan’s gardens and let grief wash her to the Halls of Awaiting. She had to leave. She couldn’t let them bury her. Couldn’t let them see what she is. Queen of Ruination! Spoilt and turned, not even worth twisting into an orc. A footnote in a story nobody will ever read.

So it goes. Moping and wallowing in her deserved misery as the scars heal and start to fade. Until one day she looks up from the embroidery she is mangling and sees another footnote has seated herself across from her. “Hello, cousin,” says the once-Princess of Minas Tirith, of Nargothrond, of a sunken grave. “Gwindor and I have a third ticket to the Flinnrysc concert tonight. You’re coming along.”

Yes I know Celeborn has family too but shh, I'll think of how to integrate them later (and I'd need to come up with names for Galadhon and Galathil's wives).

[cycas]

My apologies for the random question, but I loved your in-depth analysis about Galadriel I just read. Blame it on how my brain works, but I was curious if you have any theory about Oropher's fatal military decision that sealed his fate? Tolkien's description paints him in an unfavourable light, leaving the impression he acted on some petty impulses rather than making a strategic decision that made sense to him.

"...Oropher had the wisdom to foresee that peace would not return unless Sauron was overcome. He therefore assembled a great army of his now numerous people, and joining with the lesser army of Malgalad of Lórien he led the host of the Silvan Elves to battle. The Silvan Elves were hardy and valiant, but ill-equipped with armour or weapons in comparison with the Eldar of the West; also they were independent, and not disposed to place themselves under the supreme command of Gil-galad. Their losses were thus more grievous than they need have been, even in that terrible war.

Malgalad and more than half his following perished in the great battle of the Dagorlad, being cut off from the main host and driven into the Dead Marshes. Oropher was slain in the first assault upon Mordor, rushing forward at the head of his most doughty warriors before Gil-galad had given the signal for the advance. Thranduil his son survived, but when the war ended and Sauron was slain (as it seemed) he led back home barely a third of the army that had marched to war. ... 1. Malgalad is another name for Amdír; this passage contains its only use." -- Unfinished Tales, The History of Galadriel and Celeborn: The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves

I think this is the bit anon means.

Oropher in this account mirrors Gwindor at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad; rushing forward before the command is given, but while Gwindor is deliberately driven to break the line by watching his captured brother tortured to death in front of him, there's no reason given for Oropher's early rush into battle.

I think it also mirrors at least one historical battle: the battle of Hastings in 1066. The historians are still arguing about exactly why Harold's men broke the line there, and what effect that had.

That might be a good place to start for sources justifying and explaining Oropher's decision to start the battle.

It could be that Oropher, like Gwindor, saw a beloved captive dismembered. It could be that Oropher was tricked, in the way that, possibly, Harold's army was, by a false retreat - or even saw a real opportunity that genuinely made a difference to the war, but paid a heavy penalty for it.

Wood-elves seem to use bows a lot: maybe they were firing on the army in front of them when it began to retreat, like the Norman cavalry at Hastings who retreated (maybe) from the arrows of the Saxon archers holding the high ground, and the Saxons followed them.

Maybe Oropher knew about Gwindor's great charge at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, how he made it all the way and beat upon the doors of Angband, but could not break in. Perhaps Oropher thought that if he was fast enough, he could follow Mordor's armies right into Mordor, and break the siege that way.

That might fit with a lightly-armoured, fast-moving way of operating, and you can also imagine that heavily-armoured Noldor and Numenoreans used to a different style of fighting did not understand what Oropher tried to do. Or maybe he genuinely didn't have much experience with pitched battle, and made a terrible mistake. Maybe he DID have lots of experience with pitched battles, and still made a mistake.

I might write about this one day, from Amdir Malgalad's point of view, since Amdir is one of my lesser known favorites.

Not sure if Anon will still spot this, but I only just got time to reply.

[mag-lore]

There are parallels between the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the War of the Last Alliance that I can’t stop thinking about.  

The Nirnaeth had The Union of Maedhros, an alliance of elves, men, and dwarves; the same races that were allied in the Last Alliance. Some of the men fighting during the Nirnaeth were the Unfaithful Easterlings, while the Faithful Númenóreans were present during the Last Alliance. Both had elves charging before they were given the command from the king (Gwindor and Oropher). Both battles were a last ditch effort to overthrow the Dark Lord, who had specific gripes with specific leaders on the other side (we don’t seem to talk about the price Morgoth put on Fingon’s head enough). Both had a massive loss of lives, resulting in permanent landforms because of all the bodies (Hill of Tears and the Dead Marshes). And both resulted in the fiery death of the High King of the Noldor, at the hand of the greatest foe on the battlefield (Fingon, bound and hewn by Gothmog, and Gil-galad burned by Sauron’s hand). 

But they won the War of the Last Alliance. They lost so so much, but they won. Yes, Sauron rises to power again, but they establish a peace that lasts a long while. Sauron’s influence and forces are driven from all lands, and it stays like that for a long time. Whereas the Nirnaeth Arnoediad was such a crushing defeat, obviously. So many people were lost, for nothing. Morgoth controlled almost all of Beleriand after the Nirnaeth. The remaining free people were scattered, broken and hopeless. 

I mean, just think, Fingon and Maedhros tried so desperately to create an alliance of all the free peoples in Beleriand to defeat the Dark Lord, and they failed miserably. But their sons/descendants (Gil-galad, Elrond, Elendil) tried to do the exact same thing and they were victorious. They won. They were able to do what their fathers were unable to do thousands of years later.  

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

This is the final day of @nolofinweanweek, so here are some AUs, Canon Divergences, and whatever else. Enjoy !

◄••◈••►

Day 7: AUs, Canon divergences, Freeform ● Nolofinwëan OCs ● Canon ghosts ● Earlier canonical characters

AU Where in Valinor; Fingon and Maedhros got platonically married for the sake of not wanting to marry anyone at all, but now it’s the fourth age, they’ve both been reembodied, Gil-Galad and Elrond exist. So, hey, why not live together and settle down anyway.

AU Where all the great-grandchildren of Finwë (and younger) decide to kidnap Maeglin from Mandos cuz everybody else is out already and he’ll probably heal better with his mom anyway (It’s a crackfic in the making, Elrond is singing dwarven bar songs to Námo, Celebrimbor made a fake silmaril, Finduillas is making a detour for Gwindor,)

Canon Divergence & AU; In a world where Finwë never remarried; Fëanáro somehow figures out how to look into other universes. When he finds out about the four (4) siblings he could’ve had, well, if his other selves don’t want them then he’ll gladly take the baby siblings he deserves.

AU Where; There is a unhoused fëa in Arda. Námo claims that they found no healing in his halls and so was released without a body. The Nolofinweans don’t know why this shy but friendly fëa ghost is looking out for them, but they’re determined to figure out who “Hísimë” is, and how to help them.

AU Where; “Hísimë” otherwise cursed as Maeglin Lomion, is a fëa ghost who’s been hanging around his family for a long time trying to keep them safe from harm, from middle-earth to Valinor. But now the Nolofinweans (+Gil-Galad and Tuor) want to return the favor and help him heal and reembody. The problem is that they don’t actually know who he is and Maeglin would rather die painfully again than tell them (they love him more now than they ever did in life. He doesn’t need to reembody).

[doodle-pops]

︶꒦꒷Underrated Character Event Masterlist꒷꒦︶

˚₊‧꒰ა︶꒦꒷Fics/Scenarios꒷꒦︶໒꒱ ‧₊˚

➳❥ Gentle Steps — Curufin x daughter!reader | 1.1k | fluff

➳❥ Happy Feet — Beleg x female!reader | 2k | fluff

➳❥ I’ll Wait For You — Amras x reader | 2.3k | comfort

➳❥ Foreign Hearts — Gil Galad x modern human!reader | 3.7k | fluff

➳❥ In All Shapes and Sizes — Beleg x shapeshifter!reader | 600 | fluff by @felagund-the-valiant

➳❥ Big Hands and Tiny Paws — Argon x reader | 600 | fluff by @felagund-the-valiant

➳❥ Your Father’s Son — Curufin x maia!reader | 1.3k | fluff & hurt/comfort by @felagund-the-valiant

˚₊‧꒰ა︶꒦꒷Headcanons꒷꒦︶໒꒱ ‧₊˚

➳❥ You Have Heterochromia Eyes — Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol, Beleg

➳❥ Little Things You Do That Make Them Smile — Turgon, Finarfin, Galdor, Rog, Gwindor

➳❥ Giving Them The Silent Treatment — Amrod, Argon, Angrod, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gil Galad

➳❥ Getting Caught Secretly Dating — Amras, Argon, Angrod, Galdor

➳❥ You Don’t Give Them Attention (They Get Jealous) — Curufin, Amrod, Galdor, Beleg, Gwindor

➳❥ When You Dodge Their Kisses — Amras, Argon, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol

➳❥ Princess Treatment pt2 — Curufin, Amras, Turgon, Finarfin, Aegnor, Galdor, Rog, Beleg

➳❥ Discovering You Writing Fanfiction About Them — Curufin, Turgon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gwindor

This content is the work of ©doodle-pops 2024. No permission to repost, upload, translate, or plagiarise on any platform. Reblogs are welcomed to show support to content creators. I do not own these characters. All rights to the original creators.

[theelvenhaven]

Headcanons

❧ Group | General ❀

Questions

❧ NSFW | General ❀

Blog Conversation Tags

Character List

✵Fëanor | ✵ Maedhros | ✵ Maglor

✵Celegorm | ✵ Caranthir | ✵ Curufin

✵Amrod | ✵ Amras | ✵ Celebrimbor

✵Fëanor's Daughter

✧Fingolfin | ✧Fingon | ✧Turgon

✧Aredhel | ✧Argon | ✧Maeglin

✩Finrod | ✩Angrod | ✩Aegnor

✩Gil-Galad

♕Glorfindel | ♕Ecthelion | ♕Rog

♕Galdor | ♕Penlod | ♕Egalmoth

♡Gwindor

❦Elrond | ❦Elladan | ❦Elrohir

❦Erestor | ❦Lindir

❧Haldir

❁Oropher | ❁Legolas | ❁Thranduil

⁂Mairon

♚Ingwion

✶Vanifinwë | ✶Mírë | ✶Lórewen

⫸2021 | ⫸2022 | ⫸2023

[art-of-firefly]

My chara-designs for Tolkien's characters

I'll update it regularly to add the links to the art posts and the new versions of the family trees, if a character doesn't have a link it's because i didn't draw/post them yet

House of Finwë

Finwë

Míriel

Indis

Findis

Lalwen

House of Fëanor

Fëanor, Nerdanel

Maedhros

Maglor

Celegorm (& Huan)

Caranthir

Curufin, Celebrimbor

Ambarussa

+ Mahtan

House of Fingolfin

Fingolfin, Anairë

Fingon

Turgon, Elenwe, Idril, Tuor,

Aredhel, Eöl, Maeglin

Argon

House of Finarfin

Finarfin, Eärwen

Finrod, Amarië

Angrod, Eldalótë,

Orodreth, Finduilas, Gwindor

Aegnor, Andreth

Galadriel, Celeborn, Celebrian

Half-Elven Family

Earendil, Elwing

Elrond & Elros (Kid versions),

Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, Estel

Elrond, Elros

Those who are somewhere on the tree (probably) but even Tolkien didn't seems to be sure where :

Glorfindel

Gil-Galad

[maglors-anion-gap]

WIP Poll Game

Tagged by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor! Thanks!

I've got some event commitments to finish first, but they should be done pretty soon. The options below are covered in dust, but I hold out hope I'll finish them eventually. Most popular gets priority.

I'm almost certain everyone I know has been tagged :( How about @amethysttribble, @jaz-the-bard, @outofangband? Sorry if y'all have been tagged already!

Dawning of a star: (E) Maedhros/Fingon during the long peace, ft. trans Fingon and the conception of Gil-Galad

Silvergifting: (E) ost-in-edhil, consensual but dubiously sane, ft. coming untouched, flaccid orgasm (can't explain this without ruining the surprise), the inherent eroticism of helplessness

Gwinduilas: (T but SAD) courtly romance, difficult readjustments, cupid/psyche style betrayal, ft. trans Gwindor and the specter of what I think happened in Angband. Sidequest: what happened in Angband, ft. orcish medicine

Húrin/Morwen/Aerin: pre-nirnaeth series of drabbles following their young lives and their relationship. Genderqueer, Autistic Morwen, genderfluid Húrin, Butch Aerin. Most likely installments: Wedding Night (T, sweet), or Smells Like Teen Spirit Gender Awakening/Falling in Love With Your Best Friend (T, comedy)