#lindir is daeron

[curiouselleth]

What if Lindir is Daeron?

Great minstrel? Check! He pasted over the blue mountains and his fate is unknown? Double check! We know that his love of Luthien was great, he repented his deeds and left Doriath in search of her after they heard that Beren might be dead, although he never found her. So eventually he got lost and pasted over the blue mountains.

Perhaps he wandered for some time, or settled in a little bit of forest east of the blue mountains, until one day in the second age, maybe he hears singing, or elves nearby, laughing and talking, and wanders towards the source. A party of elves passing through, Elrond leading them. So Elrond talks to him, privately, he’s curious, about this strange elf, and maybe has a strange feeling of familiarity. Daeron tells a bit of his story, though not his identity, only telling him that much, only staying, because Elrond subconsciously reminds him of Luthien. A love he lost. He expresses his sorrow for Luthien, perhaps believing she died. Then Elrond says no, comforts him, and tells him the story of the lay of Leithian. And that she was his great grandmother.

At this Daeron breaks down. Shocked. And so, so saddened that he couldn’t find her himself. To apologize. But most of all to see her one last time, understanding that her love of him is that of a dear friend, and that’s okay. He’s okay with that.

Elrond of course doesn’t understand why this strange elf just started sobbing out of no where, but tried to comfort him. Until, between sobs, Daeron manages to say, with such grief in his voice, “I looked for her for so long. But I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t find her. She never knew, she never knew that I only wanted her happiness and I came to accept her choice. That I wanted to apologize for everything. I never got to say goodbye”

At this, he breaks down again. And Elrond, understands. Who he is, all of it.

Daeron stays with him, perhaps feeling that, if he couldn’t help Luthien, maybe he can help her family, help Elrond. And maybe one day, he sings again. He had sung an only a little bit, snatches here and there, over the years, but mainly just played instruments, usually in the privacy of the gardens. But he sings. Not a layment, perhaps just a simple song, about the coming of the songbirds, maybe even nightingales, in the spring. And Elrond, glad to see that he is truly starting to heal, smiles, so bright, exactly like Luthien did, and calls him Lindir. And Daeron, now Lindir, uses that name for the rest of his life.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Fic Concept: Erestor is Maglor, Lindir is Daeron, and Gildor is Finrod. They all live in Rivendell in the Third Age. They're all using elf magic to try and hide their identities, so they don't recognize each other.

Lindir has heard Galadriel call Gildor kin but assumes that Gildor is like, Finrod's son or something because Finrod would absolutely name a child "Gildor Inglorion."

Erestor has heard Lindir sing some very familiar old Sindarin lays but assumes that he must just know them because of how popuar Daeron's compositions were. Nevermind that many of them are lost to history by the Third Age.

Gildor knows Erestor is Feanorian because he's not as subtle as he thinks but he doesn't really sing around people anymore– because singing the Noldolante for thousands of years straight has made his voice extremely dangerous– so Gildor assumes he's just another old Feanorian follower.

Elrond and Gandalf are making bets about when they'll realize. Elrond bet it would happen before the Fourth Age. It's not looking good for them.

[aotearoa20]

somewhere in Rivendell in the third age

Daeron: Hang on, We were both minstrels in first age Beleriand, how come I've never heard of you?

Lindir: You were probably performing in Doriath, I was out on the Eastern Marches

Daeron: fucking Fëanorians! We hated you guys

Lindir: We hated ourselves

[thescrapwitch]

Many Lines Monday

Thank you @eilinelsghost for tagging me to share a snippet of a WIP. My brain has been very sluggish these past few days, but here's a bit for the next chapter in Those That Remain:

“Excuse me?”

Daeron looked up, startled. He couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had been able to approach him so quietly. Maglor seemed just as surprised. “Can we help you?” asked Daeron. 

“I hope so,” said the man. Dark haired and gray eyed, with a thin face and glasses. An American - New England? - accent decorated his words. Daeron leaned back in his chair, ready to tell the man to leave them alone and then - 

And then his thoughts blurred together. Became muddled. Disorganized. What had he been about to say? 

Something had been wrong, hadn’t it? He couldn't remember what. Daeron stared at the man, his eyes drawn to a strange piece of jewelry he wore around his neck. A pendant made of black iron, an abstract shape of circles and curls. Almost like three eyes, staring back at Daeron. Watching him. 

“It's wonderful to meet you both,” said the man. “I’ve read so much about you. May I sit here?”

“Of course,” said Maglor. He sounded as dazed as Daeron felt. A problem. That was a problem, wasn’t it? 

We should be telling him to go away, thought Daeron. But he looked so friendly. So easygoing. So harmless. The pendant on the man’s neck continued to hold Daeron’s attention. No, let him sit. We should let him sit, because…because… His brain struggled to think of an answer. His brain struggled to think anything at all, only that the man was nice and shouldn’t be scared away.

“Thank you.” The man sat between them, taking Lindir’s chair. “Maglor and Daeron, correct?”

“Yes,” said Maglor. “You…know our names?”

“Of course I do,” said the man, smiling.

“Of course you do,” said Daeron. His eldritch eye had gone numb, the vision in it becoming so cloudy he could barely see. Shouldn’t I be worried about that? No, worried about what? I’m not…this is…everything is fine. Of course my eye doesn’t work. Of course he knows our names. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. 

“You took me longer than I thought to track down,” continued the man. “But I am so glad I was successful. So glad! I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for years, you know. Both of you have been very inspirational to my work. It's an honor to meet you in person, and I look forward to using - ”  

“Excuse me.” Lindir, three drinks precariously balanced in his hands, chose that moment to join them. He glared down at the man. “You’re not bothering my friends, are you?”

“Not at all,” said the man. He gave Lindir the same warm, harmless smile he’d given Daeron and Maglor. “You are…?”

“Lindir.” The smile and soft words did not work. Lindir’s suspicion remained strong. He didn’t even glance at the strange pendant. “I’m Lindir and they’re my friends and you’re sitting in my chair, so if you could please move that would be greatly appreciated. Who are you, anyway?” 

“My apologies,” said the man. He stood up, letting Lindir reclaim the chair. “How stupid of me to forget something so vital. My name is Robert Harrison Blake.” He waited a moment, sighed when none of them showed any signs of recognition. “You all must not do much reading. I am an author of speculative science. A very well-known author, and a pioneer in my field. The Hunter of the Dark, The Stars Beneath the Crypt, The Devouring Fear; all of them are my work.”

“Never heard of them before,” said Lindir. “Did you come here to sell us books? Because this village already has a bookstore, and unless you’ve written something about music we’re not interested.” 

“No, no. Not that. My true intentions are far more noble.” Robert smiled, turning his attention back to Maglor and Daeron. “I have a business proposition for the two of you.”

Tagging: @chthonion @dreamingthroughthenoise @lordgrimwing @arofili @aroace-moron @tilion-writes and @awwyeah107 and anyone else who wants to join in. No pressure, of course!

[braxix]

[the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur]

Eldritch Maglor and Daeron, and Modern Lindir

This amazing AU from @thescrapwitch has been stuck in my head for a while, and the last one Modern AU is just woaw!

And of course, go read it it's incredible!

[doodle-pops]

Hi, I just remembered a scene from series called Heroes - there was this woman, who was deaf and still could percieve music as colorful lights (check this video: https://youtu.be/UgnjitfOW5E ). How would our dear minstrels of Arda react if their s/o was just like that?

I like to think that elves music tells stories in a visual aspect. Like the chords they play would create scenes, thus, their s/o not only sees the harmonious colours but images. They're able to show their s/o all the wonder aspects of life through their songs. This makes playing for their s/o a more touching and private moment.

- Maglor, Fingon, Finrod, Ecthelion, Daeron, Lindir

.

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

Back at it again with an Elrond headcanon

Elrond saying Everyone is welcome in Imladris is such a vibe tho because he is inviting Everyone so the people that aren’t chill with Everyone including some war criminals? they have to capitol-L Leave

It’s just a funny thought that Elrond is legally collecting scattered feanorians throughout the ages like pokemon, along with some chill people

Like at some point he finds Maedhros’ old captain living in a cave somewhere in a little feanorian colony and just, diplomatically convinces the little colony of feanorians to live in Imladris.

I can imagine him using everything from food offerings to his upbringing in convincing them to come with him l’mao

at the end of the 3rd age the Imladris population is just 2/3% feanorian and the last 1% is Lindir, Glorfindel and a single doriathrim gardener that looks suspiciously like Daeron.

[tar-thelien]

What if Lindir was the child of Maglor and Daeron

Just saying

[carmisse]

Of firstborns and births.

Fëanor : How did you feel when your first child came into the world?

Maedhros : There were many feelings at the same time. Joy, fear, panic, gratitude, it was too much to process, Artanáro left me speechless since I saw him for the first time, he was too small, more than we expected, however, he was the most beautiful jewel I have ever seen, under Findekáno's words, the baby seemed to be a star itself; and I couldn't agree more with that. While I had seen many babies born up to that point, Ereinion was the most perfect of them all. I felt I could duel Morgoth for him alone, he was the piece I needed to feel alive again.

Maglor : I wanted to cry, correction, I cried too much when I saw it; I was really scared about it. Daeron had not had a really nice pregnancy, and we were afraid that the delivery would be similar. However, thanks to Queen Melian, everything went well. When I finally carried him in my arms, my heart seemed to burst, I am not able to explain how I felt, only that my Lindir was more harmonious than any melody ever played, much more beautiful than Ainulindalë itself. He is magnificence itself, so majestic that many would be humbled to stand in his presence.

Celegorm : Eluréd and Elurín were a blessing from Oromë and Vána, a very unexpected one. I'm not going to lie, when I saw Eluréd it really bothered me not to think that he was the most beautiful baby in middle earth, you know those parents who say their babies were pure beauty, well, I was not one of those, Eluréd and Elurín were not exactly graceful when they were born, they were covered with blood and amniotic fluid, but they were very healthy, that was the important thing, although I can't say I didn't feel joy, they gave me back a part of me that I considered lost.

Caranthir : I must confess that after holding Artaresto already cleaned up, I couldn't help but curse Angaráto's genes. However, I can't deny that the little blonde hair on his little head was lovely. It was really unexpected to see that his cheeks had a tone similar to sweet apples, that made me fall in love with him, I longed too much to put my fingers on his face, I couldn't believe that he was really mine, he was too ethereal, although he was also a fussy baby, a true prince of the Noldor, if you ask me; it was inevitable not to feel proud of him, his mere existence did that.

Curufin : The phrase "You never love anything in the world as much as you love your first child" made sense when Telperinquar was in my arms; although in my heart I vowed to protect him from the moment I began to nourish his Fëa with my own. I know what I felt, a deep love for him, as well as a need for devotion. He was my greatest creation, nothing else I did in the forge compares to him, and even the Silmarils are nothing compared to my son, as I held him, I was aware that I would do the impossible to preserve his innocence, I was sure that he would bring out the best and the worst in me.

°•°

Headcanon's extra :

Daeron is an offspring of Thingol and Melian. Consequently, she has Maia ancestry and thanks to this she was able to father a child with Maglor. (In my AU she is a trans elleth.)

Vána and Oromë blessed Celegorm so that he could have the twins; Dior was puzzled.

Caranthir is trans and Curufin is trans non-binary.

Fëanorian Orodreth!

The other parents of the children :

– Findekáno.

– Daeron.

– Dior.

– Angaráto.

– Findaráto (¿?)

[searchingforserendipity25]

Brainstorming on the Maglor = Lindir concept for @funwithfanon and here’s a list of different takes, in no particular order:

Lindir does not exist. It’s more of a temporary, honorary rank, a job description - anyone can be the Lindir of Rivendell if their application is accepted. Duties include diplomacy, welcoming guests, playing the harp, singing beautifully, babysitting and being able to remember all the Dúnedain’s names. The usual contract goes for fifteen summers, which is much less than the regular yéni. Whatever you do, do not ask why Lord Elrond is very particular about having an open call for minstrels going on regularly. The Lindor of the book events is just some guy who is here for the steady pay to save up for a fancy dowry to take on his Ship to Valinor. It’s not that he has a sweetheart or anything, but he fully intends to nab himself a hot, rich, and influential Calaquendi once he gets to the West, and Elrond’s court is a good place to practice. I, for one, respect Lindir’s hustle. 

The same, but the current Lindir is Maglor. This is never discussed. If you recognize him, no you don’t. He shows up for the fifteen years, and then goes away, and then comes back. It’s fine. They don’t talk about it. It’s definitely fine! The job interviews have gone from dramatic to downright farcical. Neither of them is willing to be the first one to crack. The first time, Elrond gets to ask for a portfolio and watch Maglor draw a blank on anything that isn't a lament. By the fourth time, he has a long repertoire of new works inspired by Imladris ready, all dedicated to its gracious and most generous lord. They come up with ridiculously complicated linguistic crossword games and then swap them to play over morning tea. Again, I cannot overstate how much they do not Talk About It. 

Lindir is of the Falathrim of Sirion and he will fight you if you ask whether he’s secretly Maglor Fëanorian. He will hit you with his gigantic gold-and-ivory harp and you will deserve it.

Lindir is Maglor. Ish. Maglor-ghost. Maglor's remaint. If you look at him too hard the edges of him start to blur, like an old crosshatching drawing left to blur in the sun for too long. The shadow he casts upon the wall rests over his shoulders like a cloak. He is also rather misty. Somewhere by the sea, a body has been eaten by the fish, but the fëa wandered far inland and found refuge in the valley where all those in pain are made welcome. One day Elrond woke to a faint song. He followed it through the stairs of his house until he found - the smouldering embers in Hall of Fire stirring, and a darker darkness singing. Lindir has been part of the household ever since.

Lindir is Daeron. He loves the line of Lúthien more than all things, except for the Lady Celebrían, who was the one who found him, once, by the still dark waters of the North, and brought him home to the valley where the guards sing nonsense and the air in the twilit starlight smells nothing at all and very much like Melian’s kingdom in the days before the Sun and the Moon.

Maglor did not defend himself, whenever anyone found him wandering by the sea Maglor never defended himself, with words or Song, steel or harp. Not from wolves, or orcs, brigands or avengers, from the wrathful sea or the elements. Varda's Hallowing had scorched him through, a maddening and encompassing pain, the sort of continuous justice that left very little space for anything that was not regret. He could not defend himself from it, or the absolute, star-bright knowledge that its horror and ugliness should not and could not be denied. By the time he came again among the elves, there was very little left to recognize him by. He was so plainly beyond the ability to do harm - getting him in custody was less a matter of containing him than making certain no one went and killed him. It is imprisonment, in the sense that he’s in custody. There will be no Kinslayings or executions in Imladris (Glorfindel's passionate defence of Turgon's precedent aside), and even if it were allowed - no one could put him on trial presently. Elf parole gets invented eventually, after he is in the healing halls for half an Age, and slowly readjusts to society again. Much has his countenance changed, in grief and pain, and from wounds besides; few people recognize him outright. It takes him a long, long time before he touches a harp again, and longer still before he can be certain enough of himself to sing before an audience. 

You would not have caught Maglor Fëanorian admitting he could not identify a poem’s authorial contributions, be he dead or damned or deranged. Luckily, local musical prodigy Lindir, born and bred in Imladris, does not have weird First Age perfectionist hang-ups. Elrond’s students all have a perfectly non-traumatic apprenticeship and are very well-adjusted, thank you very much.

Lindir is a nightingale Arwen accidentally turned into an elf. Listen, it's a thing, it happens with Peredhel sometimes. He’s - adjusting. Focused on playing the harp to develop finger coordination and ended up enjoying it a great deal, after the first challenging yéni (Fingers! Tiny bony bits! What a notion. Lindir misses his beak sometimes). He does still trill sometimes; his old friends answer him during their afternoon songs, it is quite a sight. Mortals are very strange and they have the bad habit of dying fairly often just when he’s started to recognize them, but he likes the way the scruffy one makes his lady smile so he does not chirp in with comments on his poetry. Not many comments, anyway. 

They take his harp away, at first. Glorfindel, who had seen him in battle, wanted anted a geas of silence. But that would be a waste, in its way. His voice is bound to the valley instead, to the protection of it, and the working of its purpose as a place of safety and succour. Eternal servitude to the line of Earendil is not, objectively, the worst punishment that could befall the last Kinslayer. If Elrond is not entirely easy with having him in Imladris, neither is he able to countenance the idea that he might go free, and unaccounted for. The might in him goes away from his mouth, and beyond his mastery. He sings, sometimes, when it is for the benefit of the valley.  That he must be of use is a just demand, and a kinder end than exile. A grace, in its way - and it is not as if he has any reason or right to have any wish in his heart that is not to serve the line of Elwing. It is not, Maglor knows well, the cruellest captivity a soul has ever suffered. He can even speak, if he wishes; and in time, among the long Ages, he does gather enough nerve to ask leave to sing in the Hall of Fire in company, on those moonless nights when he is not needed to sing enchantments of protection. A minstrel can have many duties, after all. There are many ways to serve, in small and deedless fashion, without doing any harm. Pity is not torment, for all it is difficult to withstand, and difficult the making of a gift rich enough to answer it. Well, and he is an excellent minstrel; that much he can offer still, and he does it willingly. They call him Lindir, and that is fair, as well - it is only that Lindir does not and must not and cannot sing laments.

Maglor the Kinslayer is the minstrel Lindir. Everyone knows this. It's not clear whether Lindir, who cries when the cooks behead the hen and hums to the horses and loathes the silver sound of a drawn sword, does know this. 

[polutrope]

Throwback Thursday

Tagged by @sallysavestheday @searchingforserendipity25 @welcomingdisaster for another feature of something from the back catalogue! Seems people are doing a year from today this time, but let's throw back even further to March 2022.

From Not the Choice of Lúthien, unrequited Arwen/Daeron crack-treated-seriously.

Arwen was still a child when the stranger arrived in Imladris, seeking the grace of her father after long journeying, bearing little besides a silver flute. He called himself Lindir and her father welcomed him as an honoured guest. But he would often go away for years at a time, saying there were still many places he had not seen, and others he wished to visit again, and he could never leave behind a life of wandering altogether.  She was a woman now, and this time when he returned he stirred something in her she had not known before and she could not put thoughts of him from her mind–his glissando of laughter, the way his long and nimble fingers moved through space, the dark shine of silver hair laced with black.

Read the rest on AO3.

Thursday is already over in much of the world, but calling @ettelene @cuarthol @elfscribe to share an oldie, any day, if you like.

[thesummerestsolstice]

A very important update to my Maglor = Erestor, Finrod = Gildor, and Daeron = Lindir post.

They all take shifts as the Tra-la-la-lally elf.

Gildor thinks it's delightful and uses it as a chance to talk to all the valley's visitors. He actually uses some of his free time to teach Glorfindel some basic bard skills. Glorfindel is surprisingly into it.

Lindir refused to at first because he's composed full symphonies before, why should he spend his time on that, but then Gandalf accused him of being too afraid to improvise rhyming lyrics and the challenge was on.

Erestor just desperately needs some Tra-la-la-lally in his life. He's also re-learning to sing without making everyone around him experience the horrors. It's good practice.

Elrond, who arranged this, thought it was a master stroke because surely, if they have to talk to each other about Tra-la-la-lally duty, they'll realize, right?

They've all become pretty good friends over the years, and spend plenty of time together! They still have no idea.

Thranduil's gotten in on the betting pool. He's betting on it taking divine intervention.

[camille-lachenille]

Writing patterns

Tagged by @thescrapwitch to share the opening lines of the last 10 fics I published and see if there is some kind of pattern going on.

I put my oldest fic first and the most recent last, to have a chronological view of the evolution of my writing.

Elladan was dozing off in the stifling summer heat, trapped under Celebnínim who was finally, finally, asleep. Family tradiseaon (rated G, Elladan, Elrohir, Lindir 2 children OCs)

There was a rustling sound following Faramir in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. the stuff of great stories, (rated G, Faramir/Éowyn, child OC)

The White City of Gondolin was well named as she glittered under the snow. Ice Age(s) (rated G, lots of people but notably Idril and Elrond)

Daeron scribbled a few notes on the wax tablet and plucked at the strings of his lyre to tests the sound. To find a family (rated G, Daeron, Thingol, Lúthien)

She runs in the dark, alone. Dreams of Doom (rated M, Niënor/Túrin, Brandir, Beldis)

Idril looked at Gondolin, slowly waking in the golden light of sunrise, and the Echoriad behind, tall and white with fresh snow. Quiet morning in Gondolin (rated G, Idril and Eärendil)

They found Bilbo Baggins sitting on the bench in the garden of the newly rebuild Bag End, contently blowing smoke rings. An ancient heirloom (rated G, Finrod, Amarië, Barahir, Beren, Lúthien, Aragorn, Arwen, Bilbo Baggins)

Elrond was ashamed to admit so, but he had forgotten just how much children could be, and he may have overestimated his ability in minding all four of his grandchildren at the same time. Elrond's adventures in babysitting (rated G, Elrond, 4 children OCs)

Finrod woke up with a scream and the feeling of a warm liquid trickling on his skin. Safe in my arms, you're only dreaming (rated G, Finrod, Eärwen, Finarfin)

She looks at the babe in her arms, blissfully asleep and unaware of the world he just entered. A flickering flame (rated G, Andreth, Finrod, Gil-Galad)

I write mainly OS and, from what I see here, I tend to go straight to the point of the story with the first sentence, often introducing dirrectly the main pov of the story. The two notable exceptions would be Dreams of Doom, where the first sentence is very short and more mysterious (it sets the tone of the story rather well, I think), and Ice Age(s), where I went for a description.

And I tag whoever wants to take part

[thescrapwitch]

Chapters: 3/4 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maglor | Makalaurë & Lindir, Daeron & Maglor | Makalaurë, Daeron & Lindir Characters: Maglor (Tolkien), Daeron (Tolkien), Lindir (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Era, AU of an AU, Maglor Is A Cryptid, Daeron is also a Cryptid, eldritch horror Series: Part 13 of Maglor is an Eldritch Horror Summary:

Something haunts the ruins of Imladris, and Daeron’s fairly certain he knows exactly who. It ends up becoming much more than he ever could have expected.

[curiouselleth]

10, 17, and 18 for the Silmarillion ask game?

Hello @dreamingthroughthenoise!

10. What made you read the Silmarillion in the first chapter place? I saw the lotr movies at the beginning of the first covid lockdown, and was instantly obsessed. I watched the hobbit, then read lotr and the hobbit. Then I started seeing posts about the silm and I wanted to read more in middle earth

17. Favorite AU setting? I don’t read a lot of AU’s or anything, but I like seeing modern AU headcanons, like what different characters would get at Starbucks or their caffeine habits and such.

18. Favorite crack pairing/concept/headcanon? Oooh it’s so hard to choose. I came up with Gandalf was Gil-galad the other day, that was fun. I love all the who was Gil-galad theories, really! Hmmm or Lindir is Daeron, I really like that one too.

Thanks for the ask, these were fun!