#maedhros and maglor

[raointean]

[maeofthenoldor]

Maedhros at Maglor funeral: I need a moment with him

Everyone: of course *leaves*

Maedhros, leaning over Maglor coffin: listen here you little shit. Why are you faking your death?

Maglor, opening his eyes: I just wanted to see how many people would come to my funeral

[gondolin-but-not-forgottenlin]

M & M....E& E.....A MEME...if you will.....

[soothingmoonlight]

"He was my brother"

This is probably my favourite part from "Antigone" by Jean Anouilh and it makes me think of Maglor and Maedhros. The familial love, the devotion, the loyalty....it makes me emotional.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Random Headcanon

So Elrond and Elros are probably pretty tall right? They’re descended from Thingol and Turgon so there’s a lot of potential there for being very tall even by elvish standards. They also probably hit puberty pretty early by elvish standards (late by mortal ones but they’re surrounded by elves). Obviously Maedhros is still taller, but it’s not so big of difference that he has to crane his head down to speak to them. Like just a couple of inches nothing that massive. Then there’s Maglor. He’s like up to Maedhros’ shoulder AT MOST. He’s the shortest of his siblings and the only one to not exceed their father in height (Curvo did by like a centimetre in the end). And then when he’s coming back after a week or so on a patrol, he finds himself having to look up at the literal children he adopted. Elros would be smug as hell about it and rub it in at every opportunity and Elrond would smile to himself and secretly finds the whole thing absolutely hilarious. Maglor would definitely freak out and Maehdros would laugh more than he has in years when he sees his face. It reminds him so much of life back in Valinor when he outgrew his father at the elvish equivalent of 12 and for once it’s just a happy memory with no regret attached to it.

[uncannily-handsome]

reading the Silmarillion has given me a whole new perspective on Elrond's character because in LOTR he's presented as this wise and respected elf who helps everyone who comes across his way

and don't get me wrong, he definitely is all of that, but he also was raised by two of the worst war criminals of the First Age and is literally an Eldritch being by Middle Earth standards. And that's DEFINITELY gotta reflect somewhere

the guy is a menace

[maedhrosdefender]

listen i’m not even a maglor girlie but do you ever think about how he would have wandered for centuries and centuries along the shores of middle-earth because the shore was the point where beleriand met middle-earth and was swallowed up by the waves?? do you ever think about how he would have contemplated jumping in not to kill himself or to forge some poetic ending for the saga of the silmarils (one in the water, one in the sky, one in the fiery earth, and each keeper having died with it in that very spot) but just to walk the lands of beleriand once more?? just to step into the water, to wade farther and farther in until it’s up to his knees his torso his shoulders his chin until the water swallows him?? do you ever think how he would have smiled as he went under, not even aware that he was drowning, just grateful to feel the earth of his homeland beneath his wanderer’s feet once more?? but of course he would only ever have contemplated it and never really have done it, and that’s why maglor is maglor, because he’s forever lost--in thought, in time, in darkness. his fate is always to never find even himself enough to make a concrete decision about his own fate, to choose death, only forever to wander contemplating the idea. do you ever think how he would’ve smiled bitterly when some fisherman along the coast muttered the phrase ‘not all who wander are lost’?? how he would’ve thought suddenly where maedhros was, whether he had made it to namo, whether he was wandering now too and more importantly--whether he was really lost?? whether he himself, maglor, was really lost--or just wandering?? at that point, to him, i think they would have seemed as one and the same.

oh you don’t think about that??? yeah no me neither of course not

[elentarial]

For the Director's Cut, can you say more about Maglor from I make this solemn promise to you?

Thanks for the ask @sallysavestheday

Maglor in this fic feels a tremendous amount of guilt over Maedhros’ capture. He’s ashamed he didn’t send anyone to look for his brother (Carnistir and Ambarussa kept trying), so when Maedhros does come back, Maglor feels indebted.

He takes on the role of primary caregiver to 1. assuage his guilt and 2. everybody else is too shaken up by just how bad Maedhros is. Maglor is the only one who can emotionally take the toll of being a caretaker to someone who is essentially an invalid and accept that their brother might never return to normal functioning.

Celegorm and Curufin are avoiding that possibility, and Caranthir is just despondent. Maglor keeps a poker face and Maedhros likes that because he can’t take anyone pitying him too much.

[stompandhollar]

The Past Comes Back With The Light In the Morning ✧ؘ༄ؘ ˑꔫ༻✧

A/N: Here’s a sample from a fic I’m working on, that explores the dynamic between Maedhros, Maglor, Elros, and Elrond. It will span multiple chapters, and cover the end of the first age into the second.

Pairings, Themes: Will include a little bit of past Russingon, obvi, and lots of queer interpretations of the text. Enjoy :) <3 ( TW- descriptions of the deaths of Eluréd and Elurín.)

Characters: Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond, Elros

Word Count: 1,000

CHAPTER ONE

Maedhros was a sight to behold. Towering in stature and red of hair, his form was worldly and beautiful. Called Maitimo for his broad build, he stood out among his six brothers. The eldest son of Fëanor’s deep copper hair swept to his ribs, and coupled with his narrow, straight nose and low brow, he did not fashion himself as approachable. Where his right hand had once been, there was a scarred and maimed limb.

He hadn’t wanted to storm the city. Or, perhaps he had. Either way, semantics aside he had certainly awoken that morning with no desire to cut through his own brethren by the tenfold. But bound to their oaths, he and his brothers swept the woods surrounding Sirion for their young cousins. Hounds tracked their sent, and horses galloped after them in pursuit of whatever trail they may have found. With a heaviness, they trampled the forest floor, the swords they carried already dirtied with fresh blood, brandished in wait for their next meal.

“Maitimo,” called Maglor, dismounting with a crunch of his boots against dry leaves. “They’d have gone home to their mother as soon as they heard the warning bells. If we return to the city–”

“Or to the shore. The sea guard may be carrying them to their father as we speak.”

Maglor nodded, raising a hand to their men. “Divide yourselves. Go to the sea, and go to the keep.” His raven hair hung loose, not braided back in intricate patterns like his brother’s. The horsemen followed his instructions as soon as the commands left his lips, and within a moment, the two were left alone under the trees. Quiet crept in slowly.

Maglor sheathed his blade. “Thank Eru. With all their clamour the twins would have heard us from ten miles away.”

“Five miles.” Maedhros trilled with a smirk. “They are only half-elven, onóro melda.”

Maglor crouched low to the ground, laying the back of his hand flush against the dirt. Memories plagued him, dancing through his amber eyes like shadows flickering through a fire. Years before, caked in muck and stinking of decay, two small bodies had lain limp beneath an oak tree. Their bloated faces etched themselves in Maglor’s mind; their own microbes having eaten through their intestines and worked their way to the surface.

“Funny.” Maglor mused.

“What’s funny?”

“I believe we’ve done this before.”

Maedhros bristled. “Eluréd and Elurín were long dead before we even started searching for them.”

“Two sets of dead twins in the woods,” Maglor hummed to himself, crafting a gruesome tune as he walked along. “Both never to reach adulthood—”

“And to think I believed leaving your gondolin at home would prevent your morbid little melodies.”

“How do you want to pass the time? The forest is deep and the day is almost over. We’ll be searching all night,” Maglor pushed a collection of leaves out of his way, impaling one with his sword. “Besides. You aren’t exactly entertaining company.”

A sound.

A crunch of leaves. Maedhros put up a hand, and Maglor fell instantly silent.

The brothers exchanged a look, and sheathed their weapons. Narrowing in on a corner tucked beneath the green, there was a hint of a tunic peaking out into view. Maedhros lowered his hand, and both elves crouched low.

✧༺ꔫˑ༄ؘ ✧ ༄ؘ ˑꔫ༻✧ ✧༺ꔫˑ༄ؘ ✧ ༄ؘ ˑꔫ༻✧

In the distance, in the brush, Elros gripped his twin brother’s hand tightly. He knew the armor of the elves who crouched in front of them, obscured partially by branches and leaves. The Fëanorian star was unmistakable– he had seen it all his life. Crossed out in history books, etched into old stonework, welded onto abandoned armor. It was an ever-present and abhored symbol in Sirion, and he had spent many an afternoon asking his septa questions about it’s origins. She was an elder woman with a fiery spirit, and in many un-lady-like words, she told him of the Oath of Feanor and of the brothers that took it up.

He knew that Maedhros was cruel, tempered, and unyielding. A kinslayer twice over, maimed from a punishment he should have never escaped. That the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, both melded together into a singular, undeterred obsession with recovering his father’s Silmarillian jewls. Maedhros was otherworldly– unlike even the great Elven Lords that Elros had grown up knowing. His septa had told him that the gods had marked him far apart from other elven kin. That he had escaped death too narrowly, too quietly, and was rebirthed as one who has passed through death into ecstasy. As one that returns different from realms of the dead. Of Maedhros, he knew only what she told him, and she had told him every gory detail.

By all accounts, the boy reasoned, this was the end.

“Have you killed our mother?” He spoke out plainly– boldly, for a boy only six years grown. The men crouching outside the bushes caught his eye through the shrubbery.

“She lept from her balcony. Drowned.” The shorter, darker haired one said. Elros felt Elrond’s grip tighten on his fingers.

“Ah. I see.” He answered, pushing his chin out, voice breaking only slightly at the news. “Then, I suppose you’ll want to kill us, too.”

“One would suppose that, wouldn’t they?”

Elros stepped from the brush, tugging his brother behind him. “Make it quick, then.” He shut his eyes, and puffed his chest, readying himself for the blow. Elrond, quieter than his counterpart, kept his eyes open.

The schuth! of metal easily sheathing itself into the soft earth cut the silence. The sound inclined Elros to open his eyes again; eyes that widened in shock to see the hilt of Maedehros’ sword an inch from his own nose, blade half submerged in the forest floor. Behind him, Maglor had done the same.

Elros knew only what his septa had told him, and she had not told him that “Fëanorian” had once been, in days of old, synonymous with “honor”.

Maglor’s hand was extended. “Come. I’ll help you onto the horse.”

[shipcestuous]

We're talking about Tolkien M/M incest, and no one mentioned Maedhros/Maglor? Maglor's refusal to claim the title of High King when Maedhros was captured and presumed dead could certainly be interpreted as mere politics, trying to avoid provoking the Fingolfineans, but the fact remains that he didn't abdicate the throne either, despite clearly being uncomfortable wielding authority on his brother's behalf, which indicates to me that he hoped—or wanted to hope—that Maedhros might still be alive. After Maedhros was rescued (by their cousin Fingon, which is part of the reason Maedhros/Fingon is a popular ship), Maglor was always his brother's staunchest ally. I think it is also cute and interesting that, when dividing the territory of eastern Beleriand between themselves and their younger brothers, they deliberately place their own realms between the Enemy and their brothers. Maglor is said to resemble their mother greatly in temperament/personality, while Maedhros is described similarly to their father (though, admittedly, this an argument that cuts both ways, given the way that their parents' relationship ended). They raise two kids together (the Peredhel twins, Elrond and Elros). And at the end, when they have lost everything and are debating which kind of eternal damnation to bring upon themselves, Maglor follows Maedhros' decision, even though he (Maglor) won the argument.

Wow, I love this. Raising kids together? And putting themselves in between their enemy and their younger brothers? I've seen these names before but not in detail. Lovely stuff.

[raointean]

Elrond’s family is leaving him almost as fast as his hairline.

-My sister while watching the Two Towers

[sa-d-b-eep]

[thesummerestsolstice]

I love it when Elrond is portrayed as someone who is a little bit incomprehensible to most of the elves at first. Not even just because he's a half-elf, but because he reminds them all of so many other people, and that layering can be kind of jarring.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

Elrond himself is coming to peace with this by the War of Wrath. There is love in carrying the parts of your ancestors with you, even when they aren't around any more. And he knows better than anyone that he is always himself, first and foremost. Still, it takes everyone else a while to stop seeing a ghost and start seeing Elrond.

[nailsinmywall]

Descendants of finwë (incl. kidnapped children): sons and daughters of fëanor, fingolfin and finarfin

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Gil Galad Son of Fingon and Trans Maedhros prt 3

Remember what I said about this not being chronological? Yeah. This is set after the first part but before the second.

‘How?’ Maglor said quietly once all the others had stormed off to process. ‘Unless father was much less thorough than I’ve known him to be I think you know the answer to that question,’ Maedhros muttered darkly refusing to meet Kano’s eyes. Kano grimaced ‘that’s not what I meant and you know it. How could you be so careless? I’ve never known you to be this reckless before at the expense of political relations.’ Maedhros raised his head and spoke more clearly this time ‘how much detail do you really want? I’d remind you, you can’t forget things once they’ve been said and this particular issue I feel may be better off left vague for your own sake.’ Kano looked away a slight blush growing on his cheeks.

Maedhros continued ‘I was stupid Kano. I did consider the possible repercussions and I took precautions but I should have been aware of the margin of error. I was a mess and in love and I was nowhere near as mindful of consequences as I should have been.’ He broke off looking entirely at a loss in a way Kano hadn’t seen for years. ‘In love?’ Kano enquired into the part of the speech that had shocked him the most. ‘You mean this wasn’t a one off? You love him?’ Maedhros nodded his head imperceptibly with a sad little smile. ‘Well alright then.’ Kano mumbled in surprise, more that Nelyo had admitted it than at the fact itself. His brother was not the kind of person that jeopardised things for something he did not consider of some importance. Certainly not just for sex.

‘Well we’ve got to figure out some sort of solution. You must withdraw from leading your army yourself, at least once you’re a few months along.’ Maedhros looked like he was about to protest but Kano cut him off. ‘No absolutely not. This is non negotiable. You are pregnant Nelyo. I’m not having you do something stupid like try to fight while in labour. And don’t try to deny it I know you’d try that.’

Maedhros sighed and nodded ‘ok no combat after the first trimester.’ And it looked like it physically pained him to concede even on this seemingly obvious point. Then Caranthir re entered the room closing the door quietly behind him. He seems to have calmed slightly though still seemed on edge. ‘Ok then. You’re going to start showing so you’ll have to appear in public less. I can create some tunics and robes for you that will conceal it for a while if I play with measurements a little but it won’t be enough once you’re a while along,’ Caranthir stated matter of factly immediately inserting himself into the problem solving.

‘You’re going to have tell some people. At least one healer and a few of your generals to coordinate with the armies when you get too far along to do it yourself and it will be apparent enough to any servants in your rooms. Do you have people you can trust with this?’ Maedhros paused for a minute, taken aback by Moryo’s willingness to help all of a sudden. ‘I suppose there are a few who wouldn’t go running their mouths. They’d be loyal enough. But-’ and he broke off here seeming genuinely distressed ‘I can’t imagine actually telling them. Having them know and continue working with me afterwards.’

This point seemed to really bother him. It was not just about the fact that he couldn’t imagine letting people know he was in a physically vulnerable situation, though the whole process of pregnancy, the lost control and capability was bound to be excruciating for him. There was also the fact that the thought would no doubt occur to them that certain processes needed to be underwent to get to such into such a compromising position. And he never wanted these people who admired him for his leadership to look at him in that sort of a light. Combined with the matter that he had been accepted as a lord for a very long time now, and disliked greatly the prospect of acknowledging that he was not exactly like many other lords in physical aspects to the people who were meant to be his vassals.

‘What if I were to help run things for a while?’ Caranthir suggested sensing the plight of his brother ‘I mean I assume Finno can’t be spared from Hithlum and since I already know and will hardly think less of you for it. You will still need to tell a healer though. I would not make a good midwife.’ ‘What changed your mind? You seemed fairly put out before now.’ ‘Tyelko and Curvo agreed with me. I usually take that as an indication that I’m doing something wrong.’

[anattmar]

[Welcome to the soldier side,

Where there's no one here but me]