#snow white and the seven sons of feanor

[thatswhatiamtolkienabout]

Aredhel as Snow White, Feanors sons as seven dwarves and instead an evil step mom we have Eol...

[sunflowersupremes]

Unwanted: Chapter 2

Reembodied in Valinor against his will, Maeglin seeks solstice with relatives he's never met.

Characters: Maeglin, Maglor, Nerdanel, Turgon, Elrond, Celebrian

Read on AO3

Maeglin hid in the woods that night, after returning to his bridge long enough to change. Someone had left him a bag with food, and although he hated accepting charity from his uncle, he ate it greedily.

But he didn’t feel safe staying in the woods, not with the fact that his relatives were looking for him. He pulled out his map, running his finger along it, trying to decide where to go.

Maeglin stubbornly told himself that he wasn’t going to take Maglor up on his offer, but perhaps he should stop by Tirion anyway. Just to see what the fabled city looked like.

He packed his few belongings into the bag they’d left for him, and hurried out. He kept to the woods near the roads so that he didn’t have to speak to any of the other travelers, but it didn’t matter since he hardly saw anyone. The weather must have kept them at home.

He hadn’t been in Tirion since his release, and when he entered the city he wasn’t sure what to expect. He had pictured a city like Gondolin, made of white stone and lined with flowers, and while Tirion did have those things, it was so much more.

Maeglin stood in the center of the road, gaping at the city that stretched before him. Who would ever leave this?

Finally, he realized what a sight he must be, standing in the center of the road and gaping, so he hurried off the path, standing just beside the gate to stare around him. Long cobbled streets stretched in front of him, and all the houses were carved elegantly of marble.

Even in the middle of winter, with snow carpeting everything, flowers bloomed by the houses.

He found himself wandering in, following the winding streets toward the center of the city where the royal palace loomed, more grand than anything else in the city. It was a complete accident that he found Maglor’s home, but he stopped at the sight of the seven-pointed star on the gate, his first thought being: who in their right mind would advertise allegiance to Feanor?

His family would.

Maeglin swallowed and stepped closer, wandering past the gates, past the statues that Maglor had told him about, and straight up to the door. He’d knocked before he was fully aware of what he was doing.

A red-haired woman answered the door. She took one look at Maeglin, then turned and shouted, “Your latest pet is here, Kanafinwe!” He wanted to be offended, but something in the way she’d said it made him wonder if it was actually intended as an insult or a sign of affection. “At least now I know how my full-grown son managed to lose his cloak,” she grumbled, pulling Maeglin into the house and divesting him of the borrowed clothing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Maglor hurried into sight, a smile on his face, “Lomion!”

He pushed past his mother to sweep Maeglin into a hug. “Come in, come,” he said, keeping one arm firmly around Maeglin as he led him inside. “You’re awfully cold.”

“And skinny,” said Nerdanel. “And just in time for supper.”

They didn’t say anything about his silence as they led him into the house, taking him to the dining room as talking as though they had known one another for years.

The dining room table was large - more than large enough for seven sons, their parents, and guests - but they only used one end of it, with Nerdanel sitting at the head with Maeglin and Maglor on either side of her. Supper was a rich and warming soup, and Nerdanel was more than happy to give him seconds and thirds.

“I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation,” Maglor said, eating his own food much more neatly, albeit with only one hand.

“What happened to your hand?” Maeglin asked. He hadn’t failed to notice that Maglor favored one hand, and that the other was covered by a glove.

But at his question, Maglor readily removed the glove, showing Maeglin the injury on his palm. “The scabs are finally beginning to peel,” Maglor said as his cousin leaned forward. “Until I came here it was an open wound, but it finally started to scab over a few months after my arrival.”

“I still say you should have gone to Lorien.”

“Elrond says the same thing, and yet here I am.”

Maeglin raised his head. “Who’s Elrond?”

Maglor and his mother exchanged glances. “He was with me yesterday,” Maglor said. “He and his wife Celebrian.”

“He looks familiar,” Maeglin said, biting his lip. Clearly his questions had made them uneasy. “But I’ve never met him.”

“You’ve met his father, unfortunately,” Nerdanel said.

“Mother-“

“Earendil, the world’s biggest pushover.” Maeglin’s stomach clenched and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick.

“He’s not a pushover!” Maglor hissed.

“No, he just lets his wife act like a-”

“They apologized,” Maglor said through clenched teeth.

“Not to me,” the redhead snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m not even going to explain why not,” Maglor mumbled.

“Good. Because I’m your mother and I wouldn’t listen.” She smirked, then turned back to Maeglin. “Why are we talking about Starbrain again? Oh, his son.” She sipped from her wine, then said, “After Earendil and his wife left him and his brother, my sons took them in.”

“I kidnapped them! And their parents only left him because of me!” Maglor corrected, looking aghast. “Mother, how many times-”

“He loves you well enough either way, so what does it matter?” Nerdanel asked, shrugging. Maglor just shook his head.

Maeglin couldn’t help but grin, but he did his best to hide it by taking a sip from his glass.

“Do you like the sun in your room in the morning or the evening?” Nerdanel asked suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Which side of the house do you want a room on?”

“I-” he couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked him something like that. He’d designed The House of the Mole himself, so he’d put his room at the center, but it had always been dark there, so the sun hadn’t been anything he’d considered. There hadn’t been sun to worry about in Nan Elmoth, and for the brief time he’d lived in the Palace in Gondolin, he’d just been put into whatever room happened to be empty when he’d arrived. “I don’t mind.”

“I have plenty of rooms, obviously,” she said, motioning around them, “so if you hate your room you’re always welcome to move.”

“I know what you’ll like,” Maglor said softly, giving him a smile.

“Then off with you,” his mother said, shooing them away. “And take a bath!” she shouted to Maeglin. “I don’t need you stinking up my house.”

Once they were out of her earshot, Maglor offered him an apologetic smile. “I would have warned you about her,” he said, “but then I feared you wouldn’t have come.”

“I don’t mind.”

Maglor seemed to know the halls like the back of his hand, and he barely looked at where he was going as he led Maeglin. “Do you prefer Lomion or Maeglin?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t.”

“You don’t have a preference or you prefer neither?”

“Uh-”

“I can make up another name for you if you wish. We can tell everyone you’re a nobody I met in my travels.”

“People know me. I would be recognized.”

“I will convince them otherwise,” the minstrel said firmly.

“You're magic?”

“It’s not magic.” Maglor shook his head. “It’s just my voice.”

“I don’t care what you call me, as long as it’s not traitor.”

“Well then,” Maglor said with a smile. “You may call me what you please - Kanafinwe, Makalaure, or Maglor - so long as you don’t call me Kinslayer.”

“What about Feanorian?”

“How about I call you Eolion?”

Maeglin shut his mouth.

The room Maglor had chosen for him was at the end of a hall, and while it had several windows, they were all covered by thick bushes. But Maeglin’s favorite part was the ceiling. Without saying anything to Maglor, he laid on his back and stared up at the constellations that had been created from gemstones, shining above him.

“Was I correct in assuming you'd like it?” Maglor asked smugly.

“Thank you,” Maeglin whispered.

[stormyblue90]

Patches the Calico Plush

So in response to lovely feedback of my headcanon involving Celebrimbor and a patchwork plush cat. Found here. I decided to write a little ficlet of the scenes mentioned. Enjoy the cuteness!

After what felt like an age, he'd done it. Feanor had finally crafted a suitable gift for his grandson Tyelperinquar. It was but a simple, snow white cat plush he spent weeks researching and learning how to make. Finally it was complete and to his satisfaction. The toy had to be perfect, like all his other creations, but able to withstand all that a toddler could throw at it.

He modeled it after the family cat he had as a child, one he named after his mother due to its silvery white fur. He'd let little Tyelpe decide on this ones name later.

Curufin held his tiny newborn son in his arms, sitting by the window. Tyelpe's soft black curls on his head shining in the warm sunlight. It was clear he'd take after his father and grandfather with raven black hair. He snuggled closer to his father's chest as Curufin gently stroked his hair, already fairly thick for a newborn.

A knock at the door captured his attention, his wife answering and letting their guest in. Curufin smiled as his father made his way over to him, hiding something behind his back.

"What brings you to visit us Atar?" Curufin asked.

"I have a present for little Tyelpe. I would have presented it on the day of his birth, but it took longer than expected to make. It was not something I was accustomed to."

"Is that so? Branching out to new creations are we?"

"Just for this little one. Nerdanel and few others helped."

Before Curufin could ask was he needed his mother's help with, Feanor presented the gift. The plush cat was soft, well stitched, and as big as the newborn himself.

"May I?" Feanor asked, gesturing to hold his grandson.

"Of course." Curufin delicately placed his son in his father's arms who brought the toy close to Tyelpe.

The newborn instinctively grabbed at what was placed near his tiny hands. Feeling that it was soft and smelled of grandfather, Tyelpe snuggled into the soft, plush fabric.

Curufin smiled, "I believe he likes it."

Feanor returned the smile, "Good, I made it just for him." Gently his kissed his grandson's head as he yawned, clearly ready for a nap.

                       *                                    *                                          *

"ATAR!" screamed a distressed toddler. Tyelpe ran down the hall looking for his father. Finally he found him with his mother, about to prepare dinner.

Curufin hearing his son's distress turned, expecting to see him hurt with another scrapped knee or elbow. Instead he saw Tyelpe, eyes full of tears, sniffling and holding up his plush cat. 

"M-m-my cat got hurt!" he whimpered, "REALLY BAD this time!"

Curufin looked as he saw on the plush cat's head a big opening, cotton leaking out of it. It was bigger than the usual tears that were a simple fix. This time it looked as if it needed a patch.

Curufin bent down, comforting his distraught son.

"Shhh shhh, it's ok my son. We'll make sure they're all better."

Tyelpe sniffed and whimpered, hoping his favorite toy would be ok.

"Uncle Moryo can fix that up right away." He turned to his wife. "I'll be back shortly, I'm gonna take our son's cat to my br-er, the healer's to get patched up." Afterwards he left for his brother Caranthir's house.

That night Curufin came back and entered his son's bedroom, his mother trying to tuck him in for bed. Tyelpe however refused to go to bed, not until he had his cat.

"Tyelpe," Curufin called. "I have someone for you."

Tyelpe looked up, eyes hopeful.

Curufin then presented his plush cat, now mended and with a little blue silk bow around the neck as a collar.

His son gasped and reached out for his toy, happy the cat was ok. Curufin handed it to him, but something was different about it besides the bow.

Tyelpe looked quizzically at the black patch where the tear had been, then back to his father.

"Moryo said he didn't have any more of the white fabric that was used, but we agreed he could use a different color to make it more special." he told Tyelpe.

Tyelpe looked back down to his cat, then hugged it tightly to his little chest.

"It's ok!" He said, "I'll call her....Patches now!"

Both his parents smiled and lightly chuckled.

"Alright little one," his mother said, "you and Patches better get some sleep."

"Ok!" he replied as he nestled into his warm bed, cuddling Patches. "I love you! Good night!"

"We love you too. Goodnight Tyelpe." His father replied, both parents giving their son a goodnight kiss on the head before leaving.

                            *                            *                               *

Several decades had passed, young Celebrimbor's childhood was ending. It seemed innocence had been lost after all the death and destruction of recent events. The Kinslaying, leaving his home for a foreign land, the death of his grandfather, and now seeing his uncle bedridden and bandaged. 

It pained him to see Maedhros in such a state. He always knew his uncle to be strong, fierce, and protective. Now he saw a weakened, scarred, and nearly crippled elf before him. Celebrimbor hated seeing him that way. It was wrong. He hated how distant his uncle felt, how he struggled to move when he needed to get out of bed, how he often screamed himself awake at night, or how he glared at the stump where his right hand had been. This was not the uncle he knew and loved, and it broke his heart. They had already lost his grandfather and great grandfather, he didn't want to lose his uncle too.

Celebrimbor sat in his room, even though he was old enough to attend any meetings his father and uncles held, he never cared much for them. Not now. Not when they were all the same topic. How to retrieve the Silmarils, to defeat Morgoth, where they should go. He didn't want to think of any more hardships and destruction. So he sat alone in his room, holding Patches. 

Despite long since outgrowing the need for such toys, the cat always brought him a sense of comfort and relief. Now, he seemed to need such comfort more than ever. Over the course his childhood, Patches naturally attained more wear and tear, more patches. What was once a pristine, snow white cat, now became a calico. Celebrimbor liked it even better that way. Despite the damage it went though, it was still well loved.

It was then an idea struck him. A childish, maybe foolish idea, but he didn't care. He wanted to do something for his recovering uncle, but didn't know what he could do, until now. Celebrimbor set out to search for some scissors, thread, and a needle so he could go forth with his task.

Maedhros stood in front of the window to his room, tired of laying in bed. He hadn't bothered to eat the food left for him, he had no appetite and had gotten so used to feeling of hunger whilst in captivity, he payed little attention to it. A soft knock caught his attention, he sighed and turned, expecting one of his brothers or Fingon to be at the door, acting like a mother hen to him.

"Come in." He said. However when he saw who walked in the door, he was a bit surprised. "Tyelpe?"

"Hi Uncle. Uhm, I wanted to give you something." Celebrimbor replied, a bit sheepish.

"What is it?" Maedhros asked, gesturing to bed as he sat down.

Celebrimbor walked over and sat next to his uncle. He then held out Patches, now with a missing right paw.

Maedhros looked at the plush, confused.

"I don't understand."

"I want you...to have Patches." Celebrimbor answered. "I know you get nightmares at night. I can hear your screams."

Maedhros looked away, guilt in his eyes at the thought he was disturbing his young nephew.

"I don't know if it might help, probably not. But when I was little and had bad dreams, I always hugged Patches close, and I felt better. I didn't have nightmares after that." Celebrimbor continued. "I also see how you glare at yourself in the mirror, how you hate that you lost your hand, your dominant hand too. But that doesn't mean you're broken!" Celebrimbor held up the cat for emphasis.

"Patches went through a lot of stuff too, a lot of tears. But she was never broken, and I loved her just the same. Now, she's missing a paw, just like you're missing a hand. But it doesn't mean she's broken. Also...this is all we have left of Grandfather. He made it. I think you should have something he made since we don't have anything else."

Maedhros gave a soft smile, the first in weeks, to his nephew before taking the plush cat. His nephew was still young, still had some childish innocence left in him, even that simple wisdom children could sometimes have. He saw Celebrimbor was only trying to help

"You're right." he replied. "It's also a little bit of home. Thank you Tyelpe."

Celebrimbor smiled, happy this small, seemingly insignificant gesture gave some joy to his Uncle.

                             *                            *                            *

It was nearing the end of the First Age, two more Kinslayings had occurred, this time leaving only two of the original seven sons of Feanor alive. Maedhros and Maglor now trying to move on in their lives, attempted to forsake the Oath, even if only for a short time.

With them, a pair of twins, victims of the last Kinslaying were with them. Elrond and Elros they were named. At first they had it in their minds to use them as ransom to retrieve the Silmarils, but this thought quickly vanished from their minds. In an attempt to find some hope of redemption, or even try to take responsibility for their actions, Maglor suggested they raise the twins.

Maedhros remembered the Second Kinslaying, how followers of his brother Celegorm cruelly left a pair of twins, the uncles of the two currently in their care, to die. He did not want to repeat his failure at trying to save them. He agreed with Maglor to raise them, if only to help ease some guilt and give a small amount of light in the darkness that had become their lives.

A storm had awoken the twins one night, and they cried out in fear. Maedhros and Maglor immediately ran for their room, the former grabbing a dagger, prepared for a fight.

When they found the twins were safe in bed, merely frightened by the violent storm, they relaxed. Maedhros sheathing the dagger at his belt while Maglor sat next to the pair, humming soft soothing melodies, and assuring them they were alright. Maedhros sat on the other side, going through the motions of comforting children. He was used to this as he came from a very large family, was the oldest of seven, and even helped raise Celebrimbor. At the thought of his nephew, an idea struck him

"Wait here little ones, I have something that may help you sleep tonight. She always helped me when I was too scared to sleep." he assured them.

Maedhros walked out of the room, towards his own. Maglor smiled, knowing what his brother was going to bring them.

Moments later Maedhros returned, carrying something in his arm. Elrond and Elros looked up, the latter clutching his blanket to his chin.

"I want you to meet Patches." Maedhros said, offering the old patchwork calico plush Celebrimbor had given him so long ago.

Elros lowered his blanket, and with his brother reached out for the cat. "Patches?" they repeated.

"Yes," replied Maedhros. "She's a very special friend and member of our family. She likes to help young elflings go to sleep when they're scared."

Little Elrond held up the cat, marveling at the colorful patches. "She's missing a paw! Just like you." he exclaimed. 

Maedhros nodded, "That's right, and just like me, she'll help keep you little ones safe."

The twins smiled and hugged the plush in between themselves and snuggling under the blankets. Maglor began to softly hum a gentle lullaby, one he sang often for his brothers and cousins growing up. Moments later the twins drifted off the sleep. Once again, the patchwork calico had been passed down to those who needed it.

                              *                             *                              *

A new age had dawned, the Fourth Age, the Age of Men, and the elves of Middle Earth made the great voyage to the Undying Lands. Many were eager to reunite with lost loved ones from ancient battles passed. By now many slain elves of the First, Second, and early Third ages had been re-embodied, leaving the Halls of Mandos to find their friends and family.

Elrond had been joyful to see his beloved wife again. She still bared the scars of her attack by orcs, both in body and heart, but Elrond no longer feared for her life. Celebrian too was joyful to see her husband again, although she felt bittersweet at the fact her only daughter chose to stay and live a mortal life. Nonetheless the two were happy to find each other.

After a few weeks of getting used to land of Valinor, a realm Elrond had only read stories and history about, he set out to find a specific elf, one he'd hoped had been reborn.

He made his way to a large forge, near the home of Nerdanel. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the elf working there. Celebrimbor had been released from the Halls.

"It is wonderful to see you again Cousin." Elrond spoke, gaining the other's attention.

Celebrimbor looked up. "Elrond? I can't believe it! The last I saw of you you were helping build an elven city."

"Imladris, yes. It served its purpose well throughout the Third Age. I only wish you could have seen it. However I do have something for you."

"Oh? What would that be?" Celebrimbor asked.

"An ancient family heirloom of sorts. It is only fitting it be returned."

Celebrimbor's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The only family heirloom he could think of were the Silmarils, but that was impossible. His confusion faded when he saw Elrond bring out an old, but very familiar plush cat. Patches.

"I-is that?"

"Patches?" Elrond answered. "Yes, yes it is. This little cat was given to me by your Uncle Maedhros. In turn I passed it down to all three of my children. It has soothed many a restless night for my family. As I have no grandchildren that I will be able to visit, I see it only fitting to return this to the original owner."

Elrond handed the plush to Celebrimbor, who gingerly took it in his hands. He was amazed to see it had survived all these ages. It was very well loved, even sporting a few new patches as well. 

A tear came to his eye. "Thank you." he said. "This means a lot to me."

A small piece of Celebrimbor's childhood and innocence survived. Something crafted by his grandfather out of pure love and devotion survived, untainted. A piece of his family was returned to him. Perhaps if he had children himself he'd pass it on to them. Truly Patches had become a family heirloom. The one that truly mattered, for it was full of love and beautiful, even sad, memories of days gone by. The journey of Patches the calico plush, had come full circle at last.