#i am a simple ( manwë ) girl

[edensrose]

Melkor's reasons to like eden:

She actively hates, insults and threatens to throw hands at Eru ✓

She threatens to pluck people's eyelashes out ✓

She has a black hair bias ✓

Melkor's reasons to not like eden:

She simps for the bird boy brother like a slut X X X

[cinnamon-roll-whump]

Previous

thanks again to @melkors-defense-attorney for the cane idea!

-

Tulkas stands by the door, impatient, arms folded over his chest. Melkor feels very small as he moves about the cottage, gathering his things. He can't help the last time thoughts running through his mind at everything. This is the last time he'll make his bed. The last time he'll see some of these clothes. The last time he'll walk through this doorway, clean these dishes in the sink, run his fingers over the back of this chair.

He finds a bag to put a few things in. A change of clothes, Anna's water and food bowls. He doesn't have much.

The absurdity of it strikes him, and he stifles a dry laugh. Here he is, preparing mundanely for a simple journey, as if he's a craftsman or trader preparing to go to market, when the reality is that he runs the risk of losing everything.

"Anna, sweetie!" He calls her softly, and she runs over from where she was investigating a few books. He ties a long strip of leather to her collar, the leash he spent so long crafting and making sure she was accustomed to. His hand rests for a moment on her head, and she pushes into the touch. "Good kitten."

"Enough delay," Tulkas snaps. "You have your things, let's go."

"Of course." Melkor frowns, standing. Anna follows him over to the door. Carefully, watching Tulkas's face, he reaches behind the other Vala. Tulkas glares daggers at him, but Melkor keeps his movements slow and pulls back holding a tall wooden staff. It's simple, but sturdy, and has served him well.

"What's that for?" Tulkas eyes it warily.

"Walking," Melkor replies. He kneels down to tie Anna's leash over a small ridge on the base that he'd left there for just this purpose. It'll give her a few feet more of length than if he held the leash in his hand.

"Walking?" Tulkas repeats in confusion.

Melkor keeps his tone even, detached. "I spent so long in the Void, my muscles began to atrophy. I had to relearn many things when I was released, and I am still unable to traverse significant distances unaffected. I do not need it in my house, but if I grow tired of being cooped up or I run out of food for Anna and must visit the village, I cannot manage that distance unassisted yet."

He sees Tulkas frown, then his eyes go wide as he realizes just how little the distance from Melkor's home to the village is. A mere mile or so that the once-great Vala cannot manage without support.

"So." Melkor forces a firmness he does not feel into his voice and grips his staff tighter. "Now you see one of the reasons I did not want to return to Valinor. I hope you'll forgive me that we’ll need to stop often, as the other option is you carrying me, and I think neither of us would enjoy that."

Tulkas grunts in reluctant acknowledgement and pushes the door open. Melkor walks through without a word, Anna scampering at his heels.

How was he so lucky as to find this little blessing? His sweet girl, so loyal, and almost as clever as his Mairon. If he were still lord of Angband, he can imagine watching Anna run circles around Mairon's favorite wolfhounds. He'd make sure they played gently with his little kitten, and in the evenings, when a hound slept on either side of their bed, Anna, so much smaller, could share their pillow or sleep cuddled up with a hound.

His chest aches with longing, deep desire for what can never be again, for the Maia he cannot touch or speak to without the risk of having his life ripped away again. It's too much.

"I need to stop." Melkor's voice grates against his own ears, and he's hardly conscious of anything but the hard wood of his staff sliding through his palms as he sinks to the ground.

Paws press against his thigh, and then with the soft pricking of claws, Anna climbs into his lap, purring for all she's worth. Still clutching his staff with one hand, he moves the other to her head, thumb brushing lightly over her ears. The tension in his chest begins to ease, the cold hand of dread loosening its grip. Manwë is a fair judge. He won't send Melkor to the Void again for something that wasn't his fault. And he won't punish Anna for Melkor's mistakes.

But what about my Mairon?

Melkor stands slowly, one arm holding Anna close to his chest, and looks towards Valinor. Come what may, this time he will save what matters.

[elder-king]

Finally. The news of the host coming back from the War of Wrath preceded the host itself. Eönwë knew that and was a bit restless. The victory was incomplete, with Sauron roaming and hiding in shadows only Eru knows where, two of three silmarils lost, Beleriand drowned in the sea, and many paying the highest price for it. He wasn't sure how would his report be recieved by his master, the Elder King Manwë. A tiny child's hand touched his, patting the back of his palm gently. When he turned to look at it's owner, he sighed.

"We can't sleep with HIM so close. Can..can we sleep here? With you?" little blonde girl begged him, her silver haired sister hiding behind her back, and the third sniffling and shivering. "Please," the third sniffled again, her silvery-blue eyes teary with fear.

He couldn't...no, he was physicaly unable to deny them.

So now, when he almost finished his report to his master, there was only one important thing, that remained.

"My lord, let me introduce you three extraordinary children I came across, when trying to track down and re-capture Sauron," he motioned the blonde girl to step forward. She even mimicked a bow she saw others making, before standing in front of Manwë. "This is Lauriel. Her shy sister," he gently patted the shoulder of the silver-haired one, "...is Tyelpelin. And finally...their sister Ellenís," he gestured towards the snowy haired child.

All were dressed in clean linen dress, mostly white, Lauriel's being adorned with simple flowery embriodery, in many shades of yellow. Tyelpelin's had dark-blue wide hems with silver lotus and moon embroidery. Ellenís' dress was too decorated with linear silver embroidery, mimicking clouds, with tiny golden stars.

There was a familiar radiance around them.

@living-gems-of-treelight

looking down upon the three sisters, manwë realises just how tall and intimidating he must have looked towards children. even if his countenance was rather friendly. with that in mind, the king lowers himself by crouching, hoping that by doing so he would not appear as too much of a threat.

“hello there, young ones,” he speaks softly, gazing upon each of them for a moment. his eyes mimicked that of the sky above, full of stars and a dark, shimmering purple. a smile graces the king's lips.

indeed, there was a familiar radiance about them. “I am manwë, I'm certain my herald has already told you a thing or two?” he questions, eyeing his maia.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ─── .°୭̥ ༊ ˎˊ˗ ( @living-gems-of-treelight )

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic for @finweanladiesweek​

Summary: Findis has a sister willing to go to great trouble including committing fashion crimes to ease her nervousness on her wedding day.

Wordcount: ~1,700 words; Rating: General audiences

Some keywords: family, humour, Years of the Trees

AO3 link

*

Lace of flowers and laughter of sisters

'Flowers for the sweet princess Findis on her happy day!' Írimë cries out as soon as Findis opens the door, shoving a huge bouquet into Findis' arms.

Findis cannot help but laugh and take the bouquet. The stems of the flowers scratch her bare arms. She is still in her nightdress. 'You are early', she says, letting Írimë in. 'Mother isn't even here yet.'

'She'll arrive when she does. I know that you'll be nervous so I've come to make you laugh', Írimë says, laying down her a bundle of clothing on a chair – her dress, no doubt. She is still in her dressing gown. 'In the meanwhile, we can have breakfast. I asked for some to be sent here. Enough for mother, too.'

'Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you. Alarca is not joining us, then?' Findis would happily welcome Írimë's wife to join in her wedding morning preparations. Alarca and Írimë married young while Findis herself is certainly not marrying young. She and Alarca have had years to become like sisters, too.

'No, she's helping Nolvo and Anairë with their young terrors, no doubt persuading Írissë into her dress while Nolvo and Anairë run circles after Arakáno. You know how much she likes them.'

'I do, and I see why. Írissë and Arakáno are adorable.' Findis sets the vase she found for the flowers on a table by the window and goes to look for her dressing gown, flung carelessly somewhere by Vórimo when he'd come to say her goodnight last night and one goodnight kiss had led to several, and a few wandering hands too.

Findis blushes as she picks the dressing gown from the floor by the door as discreetly as she can. It's a wonder Írimë hasn't noticed and made fun of her yet.

Írimë appears to be busy peering out the window, hands on her hips, her own bright purple dressing gown a lively shadow in the golden light pouring in. 'It looks like good weather', she announces. 'Barely any clouds. Even Manwë is glad that you're finally getting married.'

'Írimë!' Findis huffs, then laughs. 'You promised you wouldn't tease me about it any more. It is hardly my fault that I didn't happen to meet the one who is right for me before I was already past my youth.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Írimë spreads her arms. 'I did promise. And I am here to serve you, dear sister, on this most happy day.' She executes a perfect yet also, somehow, ridiculous bow. 'I do mean to put you in a better mood, not to add your nervousness.'

She comes over to fuss with the flowers, rearranging them in the vase. 'I still find it strange, by the way', she says to Findis over her shoulder, 'that you were so nervous at your engagement feast and now about saying your marriage vows even though you perform before audiences every week.'

'True, I am not nervous when I am performing. But today is not a performance of music.' Findis sits down on the long blue settee that is the most comfortable piece of furniture in her sitting room.

There are butterflies in her stomach, and they are much less lovely there than among flowers. She does not know whether she can eat the breakfast when it arrives.

'You could treat it as a performance of sorts', Írimë suggests, sitting down next to Findis.

'Wouldn't that cheapen it?'

'I don't think anything can cheapen what you and Vórimo have.' Írimë knocks her shoulder into Findis's. 'It will all be well. It is a happy occasion for you – to everyone else besides you two, even, since neither of you appear to have left behind any spurned would-be lovers – and the part that takes part before a crowd of people is only a formality, anyway.'

Findis leans on her sister a little. 'I only wish I'd been able to persuade father not to invite half of Tirion and half of Valmar, and a good number of people from Taniquetil too.'

'There are no words yet invented that could persuade him not to throw a grand party for every one of his children and grandchildren who gets married. He loves happy gatherings like this more than anything else in life, I think sometimes.'

Findis smiles. 'Indeed, and that says no bad thing about him.'

'Hmm. Quite.'

They sit in silence, waiting for breakfast to be brought.

When it is, they carry it to the table by the window and just as they sit down to eat, their mother slips in the door. 'Good morning, girls!'

Lalwen and Findis roll their eyes at each other. They have not been girls for a long time.

'Good morning, mother', says Findis and gets up to get a hug and kiss from her mother, an inescapable and rather dear ritual.

'Findis is nervous', Írimë says baldly as soon as they have all sat down again. 'So perhaps we should talk of other things than her getting married today.'

They do. About Írimë's new horse, about little Írissë's refusal to wear anything but white and the amount of laundry that that refusal results in, about the song Findis and her mother have been composing together but did not quite manage to finish before Findis' wedding and imminent departure for Valmar.

'We can continue our collaboration by letter', Indis suggests.

Findis laughs and protests. 'You know what happens every time that we try that. We end up with two versions of the same song because both of us are too impatient to wait for the other's contributions.'

'That is true', Indis admits. 'Well, the song will keep until you return here or we meet on Taniquetil for a festival.'

Time passes strangely during the breakfast as it tends to do when one both dreads and looks forward to something, and soon it is time to dress. Indis slips into her glorious yet stately dress quickly and comes to lace Findis into hers, a confection of golden satin and lace, a mix of Vanyarin and Noldorin styles.

Findis smooths down the skirt, a little self-conscious of the dress that is bigger and showier than she usually wears. She turns around to ask Írimë, who has not seen her wedding dress before, what she thinks.

'What are you wearing!' she finds herself gasping in horror instead. By her side, Indis wheezes in laughter, bent almost in two, tears in her eyes.

Írimë is dressed already, her dress apparently simple enough to get into that she managed it on her own. But that is the only simple thing about it – it is an assault on the eyes in every other way.

Írimë grins, hands on her hips, happy as a clam in the monstrosity of a dress that combines bright orange and mint green. Strangely, both are colours that on their own look lovely on Írimë. Not at all strangely, they look horrible worn together.

And there are ruffles, and frills, and ribbons, far too much of all of them, dozen-fold compared to what Írimë, usually an impeccable dresser, tends to wear.

'Who made that for you?' Findis asks when Írimë gives a little twirl, all the better to draw attention to the clashing, supernumerary details of her horrible garment. 'What seamstress deigned to sew that for you, and what madwoman designed it?'

She does not know whether to laugh or cry.

'Do you not like it, sister? It is very special.' Írimë preens even more.

'So special as to cause blindness', their mother wheezes out before collapsing in a chair in laughter.

Findis approaches Írimë. 'Do you – do you like it?' she asks hesitantly.

Írimë smiles. 'Only because it made you forget your nervousness for a while.' She begins undressing herself. Still confused, Findis helps.

Írimë pulls another dress out of the folds of the linen fabric she'd brought the horrible dress wrapped in. Findis helps with that, too, and soon Írimë is wearing a lovely dress that is mint green but, significantly, not orange, and has no ruffles or frills whatsoever.

'Very nice', complements their mother who has finally recovered from her fit of laughter.

'A great improvement', Findis agrees. She cannot help laughing. 'The way your mind works, Írimë, to come up with surprising me with such a horror of a dress! And it is rather a waste of fabric and work, too.'

'There! I told you, mother, I was going to make her laugh on her wedding day.' Írimë grins and adds, 'Do not worry, Findis, the fabric and the work of the seamstress are not wasted. I intend on wearing the dress to the next party honouring Fëanáro or one of his brood.'

'You wouldn't', Findis says with half reproach and half laughter on her tongue, but she isn't quite sure what her sister is capable of.

'Hmm', says Írimë. 'I just might. But now! Look at you, sister.' She circles around Findis, making approving noises while Indis smiles fondly, looking at the both of them.

'You are a lovely sight, Findis', she says.

Findis does like her wedding dress, even if it is ostentatious. Eärwen made the lace for it, lace of golden flowers overlaid on lighter golden satin of silk. It has a long train of lace, too, the work of many skilled hands.

'You glow', Írimë declares at the end of her perusal. 'All of you. The dress goes very well together with your skin and hair.'

'Your hair does shine too, darling', Indis agrees.

'Never as much as yours.' Findis touches her hair, a little self-conscious about it. It is neither golden like her mother, Írimë and Arafinwë's nor very dark like Fëanáro and Nolofinwë's, but brown, a mix of her parents like her name.

'I am certain that your radiance will blind Vórimo, or at the very least strike him dumb, and not in the way that my other dress would have struck Alarca.' Írimë takes Findis's hand, and Indis the other. 'Let us take you to your eagerly awaiting beloved so you two can get married at last.'

They do, and Findis' cheeks hurt from how much she smiles that day.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Daenerys Targaryen & Varda Elentári

This post is more for my own pleasure than anything, as someone who loves both Dany and Varda. It basically sums up the similarities and/or parallels that I see between the two characters. Anyone else who has anything to add is free to do so.

[Source]

[Source]

Known as the Queen of the Stars and the Star-Kindler, among other titles, Varda is the queen of all of Arda, a planet of the universe Eä created by Eru, the Creator and All-Father, which the Valar and many of the Ainur inhabit. She is the wife of Manwë and considered one of the most powerful beings in the entirety of the Tolkien universe. Varda is intensely beloved by the elves especially due to the fact that she created the stars. It’s said that she’s so beautiful that she can’t be described in words, and that the light of Eru shines from her face.

Not much is known about Varda personally, as the direct appearances that she makes in Tolkien’s works are few. Off the top of my head, I can only recall her being mentioned in person in The Unfinished Tales and The Silmarillion. In all other instances, she is only prayed to, but one can get a pretty good understanding of just how revered she is.

The following is a Sindarin poem directed to Varda, A Elbereth Gilthoniel, by the elves, which they were heard by Frodo saying as they departed to the Undying lands.

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! O Queen beyond the Western Seas!  O Light to us that wander here  Amid the world of woven trees! 

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee In a far land beyond the Sea. 

O stars that in the Sunless Year With shining hand by her were sawn, In windy fields now bright and clear We see your silver blossom blown! 

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

—The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring

With a basic idea of who Varda is, let’s get into the similarities between the two. Some of these are likely just a coincidence, but I find it fun to explore anyway. 

Beautiful

This one is the shallowest, and the easiest to draw comparisons when it comes to the two characters. Varda is said to be unbelievably beautiful:

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her face.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Dany, too, is extremely beautiful, described as some to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her silver shied as the merchant prince Xaro Xhoan Daxos rode up to her; the horses could not abide the close presence of camels, she had found. "If you see here anything that you would desire, O most beautiful of women, you have only to speak and it is yours," Xaro called down from his ornate horned saddle. 

—A Clash of Kings, Daenerys II

The most beautiful woman in the world, thought Quentyn. My bride-to-be, if the gods are good. Sometimes at night he lay awake imagining her face and form, and wondering why such a woman would ever want to marry him, of all the princes in the world. I am Dorne, he told himself. She will want Dorne.

—A Dance with Dragons, The Merchant’s Man

Granted, many times, people are trying to flatter Daenerys when calling her that. Nevertheless, Valyrians are known for their otherworldly beauty, and Dany is also undoubtedly beautiful. 

Good judges of character

I can confidently say that Varda is also probably quite a good judge of character. Before any of the other Ainur, she was able to see the darkness of Melkor, a Satan-like figure in the Tolkien mythos who was once the most powerful Vala but rebelled against Eru out of pride and became Morgoth. Thus, Varda distrusted Melkor, rejected an offer that he made to her, and Melkor was said to see her as his greatest rival. 

Out of the deeps of Eä she came to the aid of Manwë; for Melkor she knew from before the making of the Music and rejected him, and he hated her, and feared her more than all others whom Eru made.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

This is pretty impressive, considering that it’s possible that at the time referenced, when Varda “knew” Melkor, even Melkor didn’t know that he was heading down a path of evil. Yet Varda could see the darkness inside him. Besides, Melkor is said to be very good at deception, so the fact that Varda could see through this is a testament to her skill in gauging other people. 

Dany is also a good judge of character. At just thirteen, she’s able to see through much of Illyrio’s flattery and lies when her significantly older brother Viserys was unable to:

"They are your people, and they love you well," Magister Illyrio said amiably. "In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water." He gave a massive shrug. "Or so my agents tell me."

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio's sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. "I shall kill the Usurper myself," he promised, who had never killed anyone, "as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father."

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys I

She’s also aware that people are much more treacherous than depicted in the books she reads:

"I'm cold," Dany lied. "Bring me the book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

—A Storm of Swords, Daenerys VI

Opposition to evil

Significantly, Varda’s realm of power is the light:

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her face. In light is her power and her joy.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Other titles for Varda, besides Queen of the Stars, include Snow-White, Lady of the Stars, and Star-Kindler. There’s an obvious association with light here, especially because stars are the most beloved form of light by the elves, not to mention the earliest sources of light in Arda. 

Melkor, meanwhile, being the overarching villain of the entire Tolkien universe, is associated heavily with darkness. 

Last of all is set the name of Melkor, He who arises in Might. But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor, who among the Elves suffered most from his malice, will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Other titles for Melkor include The Black Foe, The Corrupter, The Marrer, The First Dark Lord, and Lord of the Dark. It’s pretty glaringly obvious how strongly Tolkien meant for us to picture him as being the embodiment of darkness. 

This places the quite literally brilliant Varda in direct opposition with him in terms of their elements. In other words, she is heavily associated with and symbolizes something that is the very antithesis of everything the main evil of Tolkien’s works is associated with. 

Just like Varda is heavily associated with light, Dany is heavily associated with fire. It is the element of her house, but beyond that, it’s a personal element for her.

They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany's head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. "Ours is the house of the dragon," he would say. "The fire is in our blood."

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys I

No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys X

Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. "Mother!" they cried. "Mother, mother!" They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them...

—A Clash of Kings, Daenerys IV

Especially in the above quote, Daenerys is the embodiment of the fire, as acknowledged when she gives “herself” to the slaves that need “the fire”. In addition, fire as life is an ongoing theme in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. It’s shown above in the quote by “the fire, the life”. And the force in direct opposition to the fire is the ice, the cold, the death, which also stands for the undead, who are the main antagonists of the series. 

The real enemy is the cold.

—A Game of Thrones, Prologue

Similarly to how Varda, light, symbolically stands in opposition to Melkor, darkness, Daenerys stands in opposition to the Others, death, thanks to her association with fire, life. Their positions as important, central figures of goodness and hope are expressed through their association to certain elements which contrasts them directly with the elements that the great evils of their respective series are associated with.