#sons of feanor and water series

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #3 Celegorm - waves

Having Aredhel was like having a sister throughout their childhood.

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@feanorianweek #3 Celegorm - olas

Tener a Aredhel era como tener una hermana durante toda su infancia.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

oh my god, thank you for that wonderful response. i have been reblogging some of your posts because i agree with it. when i started reading lotr fics, i stumbled upon so many older fics about the supposedly called "kidnap fam" and the more i understand about elros and elronds situation, the more i go from "wait what" to "what the fuck" and go back to the canon material because youre telling me they villainize elwing and earindil but not the ones who caused the second kinslaying because apparently its such a good material for idk to make the feanorians nice? ive read enough fics that are long af which explains the complexity or whatever of why the second kinslaying happened but when it comes to elwing and earindil, its like fuck it they suck af. im not kidding when i said the more i read about feanor and the sons of feanor (book, fics and posts), the more i get exhausted because some of them have such a dickish personalities like they're awful af but apparently they have talents or something to compensate for that. im really sorry for this rant. im probably dipping into waters with sharks in it.

Yeah, 'kidnap fam' is hugely popular - and wow, it must have been wild to come to it straight from LOTR and then later discover Elrond's backstory! Because yeah, the way the Third Kinslaying is presented in fics can be very different from the way it is in the books.

I think, maybe, Elwing and Eärendil are vilified by some Fëanorean fans precisely because the Third Kinslaying is so horrific. That's not to say that the Second Kinslaying is not - we really get more details of specific atrocities committed in the Second Kinslaying (abandoning small children to die of exposure) - but the Second Kinslaying is at least a fight between two groups who both have armies. The Third Kinslaying is a massacre of the remnants of the civilian populations of two previously-destroyed kingdoms. And I think that very horror makes people want someone else to blame for it at least partially - someone else to blame for some element of it - even though the sole cause of it is, truly, the decision of the remaining Fëanoreans to massacre people. (My thoughts on this are partly because I've seen almost this identical thing in another fandom that I'm part of, where we find out midway through the series that one of the main protagonists, earlier in his life when he was a much worse person, massacred an entire village. Parts of the fandom gravitated to casting blame on the leader of the village he massacred for being 'unreasonable', or to claiming the main character wasn't in control of his mind [the same way that people say the Fëanoreans had no choice because of the Oath], because understanding a character you like as being to blame for something so horrible is very raw.)

But back on the topic of 'kidnap fam' - I think it's the contrast that draws people to it, the idea of people who have done terrible things and feel terrible about them being suddenly confronted by innocent and helpless children whom they need to care for. (I say 'they' because 'kidnap fam' is usually written as both Maglor and Maedhros 'parenting'; my own mental image of it is that Maedhros had very little to do with the twins' upbringing.) But I'm feeling rather overexposed to 'cute' takes on it. It's not cute; I'm somewhat in the middle of a fanfic where I try to dig in a little to what Elrond's upbringing must have been like, the scars and complicated trauma that it must have left. And it's strange, because, if people want to write about a cute adoptive/found family, there are other options out there! There's Annael and the other grey-elves who raise Tuor, for example. But again, I think it's the combination of the popularity of the Fëanoreans and the contrasts inherent in the situation. I loathe when people try to cast blame on Elwing for, uh, being driven to suicidal despair by everyone she knows being massacred and her kids being captured by the same people who murdered her brothers. And I've gotten really tired of people trying to give Maglor credit for the good person who Elrond became; in my opinion, Elrond's character may be in part a reaction to his upbringing, but his goodness is more despite Maglor than because of him.

It's fine if you're feeling overexposed to the Fëanoreans - they can be pervasive in the tumblr Silm fandom, but there are still people here who like/focus on other characters!

And if anyone tries to get on your case for feeling tired of the Fëanoreans, block 'em. Life's too short for putting up with it.

[kameliabronx]

a little about Nerdanel

Nerdanel is a woman but at the same time one of the best in her field, a craftswoman in stone and metal processing, this is probably what interested Feanor in her, after all, the first impression plays an important role. It all started simply: with conversations about various types of metal and stones, with the exchange of experience in stone processing, in the end, with joint trips for materials.

Nerdanel has a sharp mind and a big heart, she won't go into her pocket for a word, and this is strangely attractive. She has an indomitable will and a stubborn character, it is more expensive to argue with her, even for someone like Feanor, then their uncompromising sideways but so far it only spurs. Especially when during a conversation she often crosses her arms over her chest or rests on her sides, sticking out her hip and looking straight into her eyes, fearlessly and absolutely confidently. It is even difficult to say whose look was passed on to the sons: Feanor or Nerdanel. Nerdanel has strong arms, shoulders and back: after all, she works with heavy tools for many hours. This view is fascinating, Feanor likes to watch her from the side while she works. The sparks from the fire are so beautifully reflected in her gray-green eyes and red hair. Nerdanel has little dark skin like her father and freckles and moles all over her body. Everyone sincerely thinks they are very cute, and Nerdanel is shy of them for a very long time, even trying to cover up like young ladies from the more noble families. But then Feanor happens. They generally both make each other better. Everyone notices that Feanor became calmer and more reasonable after the wedding, and if he spoke in a hurry, then the next day he behaves more deliberately. The whole family is very grateful to Nerdanel. It's bad to choose favorites, but Nerdanel loved Karantir most of all, he was similar to her in skin color and freckles. And she also loved the calm like lake water Maglor. But all her children pleased her heart. But it was broken during the Exile of the Noldor. She asked and demanded that Feanor come to his senses, to leave at least one son, because they would die! But who would listen to her at this moment when emotions are blurring eyes. Nerdanel often wondered what she could have done at that moment. After the Exile of the Noldor she often went to visit Anaire - her husband and children also left, albeit peacefully. I went to the ill-fated Alqualonde to Earwen, visited Indis. Nerdanel is so used to the noise and din of the house that she can no longer be alone. She drowns herself in work, creating work after work. When news of her husband's death and the death of her children reaches her, it's as if something is gradually dying in her, but she keeps herself in hand: nothing, eternity is nothing for an elf, she will wait. Most of all, Nerdanel loves to create sculptures: to watch how something almost alive turns out from a piece of stone, as if it is about to come off the pedestal. She also creates a lot of jewelry - most of them are in the Arafinwe collection, they are good friends. Nerdanel used to forge weapons, very good ones, one of Feanor's swords is her work. But after the Exile of the Noldor , it disgusts her, brings back bad memories, from which she wants to go drown herself. After the death of her family, she creates a series of works: sculptures of her children and her husband. She thinks it's the best thing she's ever done in her life. Nerdanel herself is quite good with a sword, shoots a little with an arrow. Not a warrior, of course, but she can protect herself. And for some reason her style is not similar to the style of noble warriors, more like a wild style of battle far from Valinor Avari.  She fights more instinctively. This is what Mahtan taught her who went through the Great March.

[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

Maglor/Spouse headcanons

(featuring my OC for his hubby, Ringwë “Ringo”Ilyannon)

Despite being the shorter of the two, Mags is the big spoon (he also tops most of the time)

Ringo is a NEAT FREAK and his eye twitches when one thing is out of place while Mags is literally a hot mess “it’s organized chaos, Ringo!”

Ringo followed his husband to ME, not because he was swayed by Fëanor’s words but for two other reasons, first was loyalty to Mags and the second was because he was just getting mad bored in Valinor (where nothing ever happens unless Morgoth is around to stir shit up) and he needed material to write a play about that wasn’t The Merry Misadventures of Gods Part II (his very popular comedy series about the Valar). He wanted to be around when history was being made.

He and Maglor fought side by side on several occasions even though Maglor was a spell-singer and Ringo had to learn fighting skills on the go (“I never fought but I’ve air-fenced for roles before”)

Ringo was Mags’ biggest support when Mae was captured and he got into fights with his brothers about his “failure” to rescue him (“I’m writing a new play. It’s called ‘if you don’t leave my husband alone I’ll kick your fucking teeth in”)

Ringo is a total blanket hog which Mags doesn’t mind because it gives him excuses for cuddles “you’re gonna share this warmth one way or another”

When the Gap fell, Mags ordered Ringo to go with the retreating survivors and this stubborn bitch said “if we’re dying, we’re dying together whether you like it or not.”

Whenever they get bored of their wandering, they stay in Amon Ereb (which is a perfectly serviceable keep that Mags sings an enchantment around to make it look like ruins)

Mags calls Ringo “coivenya” (my life)

They argue in the dumbest ways, Mags will sing obnoxiously to annoy Ringo while Ringo recites increasingly insulting poetry.

They’ve definitely sucked each other off under the table when meetings got boring

Ringo was away when Maedhros killed himself so he came back to find his husband and law-brother gone and the fortress a mess, he at first thought that they’d been assailed by orcs. But then he heard Maglor’s singing and found him at the edge of the water.

Weirdest place they had sex? On Himring’s roof. Maedhros had them up there patrolling for orcs and whatnot but when a couple hours passed and all they saw was snow, they were like “Welp, bored now” and banged on one of the turrets (facing forward so they could still scout for enemies). When Mae heard about this, he tried to be the intimidating older brother but ended up laughing his ass off because him and Fingon did that same thing one time.

Whenever Ringo’s having a bad day, Mags would pick him up some of his favorite fruit (strawberries, but when they were Exiled and on the road it was hard to get them. He learned to freeze-dry them from Celegorm so they’d have a supply when they were on the go). When Mags is having a bad day, Ringo does hilariously bad but surprisingly accurate impressions of people Maglor dislikes and it has him cackling every single time.

Ringo may be a neat freak but that doesn’t extend to his hair. His hair is curly as fuck and most of the time it’s thrown up in a braid because he can’t be assed with it, so Mags usually takes care of it.

Feanor didn’t like Ringo at first because his family were Fingolfin’s supporters and said that no son of his would marry a potential “plant.” Ringo’s parents didn’t like Maglor cuz of his dramatic and admittedly arrogant musician personality, fearing he would be as flighty as his stage persona. So the two of them did what any reasonable elves would do, eloped. They did the equivalent of a drive-thru Vegas wedding with like three of Mags’ brothers there.

When he got back home, Mags didn’t even bother hiding it from Feanor. “Where did you get to, son?”

“Oh, I went out and got married” cuz at that point the marriage was already performed and Feanor couldn’t do shit about it. He eventually warmed up a tad when he saw how happy Maglor was (and how Ringo made the twins laugh)

Ringo was happy that Mags had such a large family since he was an only child himself and always wanted siblings.

Maglor just saying “fuck u dad, I’m getting married” inspired Mae to be public about his own relationship with Fingon.

[sunflowersupremes]

Makalaurë

Feanaro was seldom wrong about things (and he admitted to being wrong even less) but even he would confess that had had made a mistake in declaring that his second born child was a daughter.

Characters: Maglor, Fëanor, Maedhros, Finrod, 

Tags: Trans Male Charactertrans Maglor, Stream of Consciousness, LACE non compliant

Series: The Elves Are All Queer Because I Said So

Read on AO3

Feanaro was seldom wrong about things (and he admitted to being wrong even less) but even he would confess that had had made a mistake in declaring that his second born child was a daughter.

Makalaure had seemed to be a woman, until he’d stolen his older brother’s clothes (hilarious, because Maitimo was still nearly a full head taller than his sibling, and quite a bit more broad in the shoulder) and declared himself to be a man.

And that was fine, because Feanor didn’t care, as long as his child was happy. And just because no one had heard of a woman-who-was-actually-a-man before didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. The line of Finwe always did have to be first in trying new things, after all.

And Finwe loved hosting parties, so a second gender reveal for his now grandson was simply another excuse to have his family together (and for Makalaure’s sake, because everyone liked him, they had all pretended to get along).

Only one person - a low ranking member of the court - had expressed any questions at all, which was fine, because Maitimo had broken his nose and he’d never said another word against the Finweans ever again.

He did as he liked, called himself what he liked, and wore what he liked, still wearing the same glittering jewels and soft silks. But he hated dresses, because he couldn’t climb trees in them (“and what’s the point of a tree if you don’t climb in it to sing, Timo?”) so he was given his own wardrobe of clothes that matched his brothers’ in style and cut.

And he had been happy, for a very long time, and he was called odd and peculiar not for his body, but because he poked at people’s emotions and unwound them as easily as if they were thread.

He had followed his family to Arda and sworn the same Oath as his brothers, because that was who he was, a proud son of Feanor, and he would stand (and fall) beside them.

There were Sinda in Arda, who like him had souls that did not match their body - he was delighted to find, and it was lovely and perhaps Arda wasn’t so bad after all…

Except it was, truly awful, because Maitimo was gone and he’d heard one of his followers call him the ‘first high queen of the Noldor.’ (Grumpy Carinistir had also heard that, and Maglor never saw the speaker again).

And his cycles - the week or so once every other year where he bled - grew worse, nearly debilitating, and he could not get out of bed without a warm water bottle or a dose of poppy’s milk.

Makalaure hated Arda, he hated being King, and he particularly hated that he’d had to leave Maitimo to his fate. (“Kana, imagine what they’d do if they got you?” Maedhros had said, stroking his cheek as he prepared to depart. “They wouldn’t care that you’re a warrior, Kana, they’d just….”)

And then Fingon had rescued Maitimo, cutting off one hand, and his brother had smiled at him from his sick bed and said, “Now both our bodies are all wrong Kana” and he rolled his eyes and refused to think that was funny (even if it was, maybe a little).

Because Maitimo didn’t understand there was not a thing wrong with his body. He liked it. It was pretty, and he wasn’t unaware of that.

He was just a man who lacked a cock, and why should anyone care about that?

Except it turned out that some people did care about that.

Makalaure found that he liked his cousin’s mortal friends, who were staying in Nargothrond - because Findarato seemed to collect Mortals - when he stopped by to visit. There was one in particular that he found that he really liked, who was unusually pretty for a Mortal (and even had some measure of hygiene), and he didn’t think twice about falling in with.

The mortal had been happy to bed an elf until he’d realized that Makalaure did not have the body he had expected.

Instead of respectfully declining, he’d nearly killed Makalaure, leaving him in the woods with a knife in his side.

It had been Beor, the mortal friend of Findarato, who had found him, sniffling and wrapped in the remnants of his cloak.

At first he’d pulled away, thinking that Beor would have the same reaction as the other Mortal who had attacked him, but his cousin’s friend was a true friend. “Come on,” murmured Beor, “I will handle that man, but first, let us get you to your cousin.”

Makalaure was too weak to protest, and Beor had gathered him up, wrapping him in the mortal’s own cloak, and hurried him back into the city.

Finrod had very nearly cried when Beor had carried Makalaure into his office, because Finrod was soft and gentle, and could not fathom why anyone would hurt someone just for being different.

Finrod had taken him at that point, cradling his cousin and murmuring quietly to him, Singing his wounds back together, and promising that he would always be safe.

Except Finrod had died shortly after that, and Maglor had been left to carry on in the cold, cruel world.

But he found a bit of brightness, in the most unlikely place, because in Sirion he had found something he had never imagined he would have: sons.

They were always hungry, when his sons were young, and he ate even less, to ensure they did not go without.

When his cycle - the bi-annual bleeding that had always been a sign that maybe he wasn’t exactly like his brothers - stopped from malnutrition, Maglor had joked that it was the best gift he’d ever been given.

Maedhros had brought him extra food that night and begged him to eat it, even though it made no difference in the long run.

Maglor sometimes forgot that his body was different from others, at least until Elrond asked what exactly did he mean by “most men do not have vaginas.”

He had sighed, and Maedhros - who had been pretending not to listen to their conversation - looked up, and frowned.

“Some people,” Maglor had said, “get a bit shuffled around, and sometimes, their body may not match their soul.”

“Oh.” Elrond had tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully. “Like mortal women who dye their hair?”

“Yes,” he said cheerfully as Maedhros shook his head and snorted. “Just like that.”

‘Your son is a fool,’ his brother had murmured in the back of his head.

‘My son is a genius, it is everyone else who misunderstands.’

Maedhros had snorted and shook his head.

Notes: Maglor’s attack wasn’t meant to be read as sexual assault, just a stabbing/beating, but I trigger tagged it anyway.

[galadhremmin]

silm asks - 1, 9, 13, 22

1. Favorite Section (Ainulindalë, etc.)? The end, because it breaks my heart! The sense of loss is so palpable. You really experience a feeling of mourning for the destruction of a world that never existed in a way I have never experienced with other fantasy. I do love the Ainulindale because the idea of a world made of music and responsive to it is incredible appealing to me. ‘Is that not a silmaril,’ or! that sentence about the death of Miriel...  ‘ and the sky reeled, and the hills slid, and Númenor went down into the sea, with all its children and its wives and its maidens and its ladies proud; and all its gardens and its halls and its towers, its tombs and its riches, and its jewels and its webs and its things painted and carven, and its lore: they vanished for ever. And last of all the mounting wave, green and cold and plumed with foam, climbing over the land, took to its bosom Tar-Míriel the Queen, fairer than silver or ivory or pearls. Too late she strove to ascend the steep ways of the Meneltarma to the holy place; for the waters overtook her, and her cry was lost in the roaring of the wind.’ Painful; beautiful. But yeah, I can’t really choose. Though I’d still say the end.   9. What Age of Arda would you like to live in? I love reading about heroic and tragic events and enjoy dramatic irony, but I want none of those things in my own life! Years of the Trees in Valinor. Every time I try to think about what Valinor would be like in a slightly more concrete way it grows stranger and more intense in my imagination. Even if it would speed up my death-- fine. See Valinor And Die. ‘ And tales and rumours arose along the shores of the sea concerning mariners and men forlorn upon the water who, by some fate or grace or favour of the Valar, had entered in upon the Straight Way and seen the face of the world sink below them, and so had come to the lamplit quays of Avallónë, or verily to the last beaches on the margin of Aman, and there had looked upon the White Mountain, dreadful and beautiful, before they died.” -- That’s the spirit. If it actually existed I’d swim upstream towards the blessed realm like a salmon in season, right here right now.   13. Would you want The Silmarillion to be made into a film or tv series? Only if it was animated, and only if it was done by people like the ones who made Song of the Sea, The Red Turtle or similar. I don’t think the entire thing would really work in the same style; an anthology of separate stories by different creators might work best. The only live action version of a Silm story I’d like to see would be Del Torro in the spirit of Pan’s Labyrinth. But overall I think the Silm material and the way people interact with it would suffer from a big studio laying claim over it. Copyright and capitalism don’t go well with this sort of story.  22. What is your opinion of Fëanor? He’s interesting. This is getting a bit long, so cut.

I think it doesn’t do the character or the story justice to make his conflict with Fingolfin entirely about his father’s affection; there’s a interesting sentence in one of the versions of the stories that indicates Fingolfin was at least perceived as threatening not just Feanor’s but also Finwe’s authority, in favour of the Valar;  Whispers came to Feanor that Fingolfin and his sons Turgon and Fingon were plotting to usurp the leadership of Finwe and of the eldest house of Feanor, and to supplant them by the leave of the Valar-- for the Valar were ill-pleased that the Silmarils lay in Tuna, and were not given in their keeping. [..] on the high day of the Valar Feanor spake words of rebellion against the Valar, crying aloud that he would depart back to the world without, and deliver, as he said, the Gnomes from thraldom, if they would follow him. And when Fingolfin sought to restrain him Feanor drew his sword. ' Combined with from yet another version; 'said Finwë: ‘While the ban lasts upon Fëanor my son, that he may not go to Tirion, I hold myself unkinged, and I will not meet my people.’ ... I think there’s room for more than just a narrative about a child insecure about his father’s love. That is also there; and it is fascinating all on its own, because he is the first person in Valinor to lose a parent, the first for so many things. But this is there, too; a potential politico-religious conflict about authority supported by Noldorin tradition vs. the Valar. Given that Ulmo called Feanor’s birth a result of Marring and Indis line the good to come of it I think this makes sense on both levels.  Anyway, aside from that I think his devolving into a state of horrible, selfish paranoia and grief leads him to do entirely awful things in an interesting way. I don’t read the character as a parallel for real world fascists/nationalists because that just doesn’t make sense in context of, well everything. Being a King in a feudal society is only the start of it... But given Tolkien’s life experiences I’d say when he uses a sentence like ‘no other race shall oust us’ the wording is deliberate, and you’re supposed to feel those associations; the way his spirit starts to twist, the wrongness of the words he uses to motivate those not convinced by the need for vengeance etc. Feanor is a character who often plays the oracle without knowing it. He predicts his own son’s final fate (Maglor) without realising it. When he sees the future he doesn’t know it, and when he is justified in his emotions or even opinions he reacts in the worst possible way. It makes him fascinating. He is too much of everything, and you get the distinct sense that he doesn’t truly understand himself.  Aside from that; well, the slender dexterity of Feanor’s fingers... haha. He was Tolkien’s favourite, clearly, and it shows. I really love what seems like his intense curiosity and need to engage with the world he lives in. I love that his heraldry seems related to the spectrum of visible light, when so much about him is about light. I think Nerdanel might be the only woman in Tolkien’s work who is not loved for her beauty but her spirit, and that in turn tells me something about Feanor’s spirit. I could go on, probably verging into headcanons. I enjoy the character; I think of his actions and eventual implied ideology are indefensible. I also think that the circumstances being what they were (no one born in the blessed realm truly understood loss, or having to let go of a possession, for one) and with the qualities ascribed to him his choices make sense. 

[alectology-archive]

SJ/M’s plagiarism from fiction/media

I’m hoping to make a comprehensive list of all the sources SJ/M has outright ripped off from in the past. Feel free to comment down below or send an ask if you can think of anything.

SJ/M has very clearly ripped off of GRRM and JRR Tolkien’s works. Same goes for a lot of Anne Bishop’s works, too, and a lot of her favourite authors - so if anyone’s read books SJ/M has stated that she likes please let me know.

Note that this post will keep getting updated as I discover more evidences of plagiarism. Also note that there is every possibility that some resemblances are purely accidental and/or unintentional. So take it with a grain of salt.

(?) indicates a questionable addition to the post.

T/HRONE OF GLASS

- “The Queen Who Was Promised” comes from GRRM’s “The Prince who was Promised” prophecy in ASOIAF, who also goes by Azor Ahai, who wields Lightbringer, and is also known as the Son of Fire. 

- “Aelin” is probably derived from “Aelin-uial” in the Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien. Additionally, it may have been derived from Aerin Dragon-Killer/Aerin Firehair from Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown, as SJ/M stated it was one of her favourite novels.

- “Fireheart” is the name of Corlath’s horse in The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, an author SJ/M admires.

- Empire of Storms, 2016, contains the infamous line ‘velvet-wrapped steel.’ And… so does Fifty Shades of Grey, in 2011: ‘Steel encased in velvet.’ 

- “Valg” comes from Terry Brooke’s The Sword of Shannara, another author SJ/M admires.

- “Hope. You cannot steal it, and you cannot break it." is awfully similar to the line from The Princess Bride about love "you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords". SJ/M has said that she loved the movie.

- The infamous “You could rattle the stars” is a ripoff of Treasure Planet’s “You’re gonna rattle the stars.”

- “To Whatever End” comes from The Two Towers where King Theoden says it just before the battle of Helm’s deep begins.

- “You bow to no one” is said by Aragorn at the end of the Return of the King after his coronation.

- Orynth has white walls and is surrounded by snow capped peaks. It has large white walls and bears an unusually striking resemblance to Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings.

- Aelin’s journey mirrors that of Aragorn. The lost heir to a powerful throne, spends years in the wilderness denying their claim, joins forces with the elf/faes to reclaim it and has an immortal elf/fae as consort.

- Nehemia names Aelin ‘Elentiya’, saying, “I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken’.” It sounds similar in tone and cadence to the way Galadriel describes the light of Earendil to Frodo. The name Elentiya even sounds Elvish, and sits discordant with the other naming conventions in Eyllwe.

- Manon gathers the witches to go to war by starting a series of beacons, lit all across Erilea, from snow-capped mountains to the woodlands - directly from the Return of the King when Pippin helps Gondor call for aid. 

- The wall defences of Orynth are completely sound, except there’s one more way in, through a grate in the water canal - another striking resemblance to a place in Lord of the Rings known as Helm’s Deep. There is even a scene where someone asks if there’s a secret passage the women and children can escape through.

- In EoS and ToD, Chaol is referred to as “Hand of the King”. In GoT the “Hand of the King” is a title given to the King’s advisor.

- The speech that Haldir gave when he arrived in Helm’s Deep, uniting the elven and human forces, is paraphrased at least three times in this book. Most notably when Manon brings the Crochan witches to fight alongside the humans. She actually says “Long ago, Crochans and humans fought side by side…”

- Kingsflame blossoms bloom only when a kingdom is at peace and the rightful monarch is on the throne. Also a very similar plot point to the White Tree of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings.

- The dam breaking in Anielle and flooding is based on the Isengard dam breaking in The Two Towers. 

- Chaol crosses the Narrow Sea to get to the southern continent. In GoT the Narrow Sea is the body of water between Westeros and Essos.

- The “Wyrdkeys” are the Silmarils. There are 3 Wyrdkeys and 3 Silmarils. They’re ancient and powerful stones forged by a being of great power (Feanor, who made the Silmarils, was the most powerful elf of all time). Everyone is fighting over them. And just like one Wyrdkey eventually ends up in the Terrasen Amulet, one of the Silmarils ends up in a necklace called the Nauglamir. They’re also all destroyed/lost at the end.

- Kingdom of Ash, page 543: “It was not arrows alone that had been fired, and now peppered the snow.But heads. Human heads, many still in their helmets.” In Return of the King, the orcs catapult severed heads (still in their helmets) over the walls of Minas Tirith.

- “What say you, Queen of Witches?”…….“I shall answer Terrasen’s call.” is a blatant rip-off of the scene where Aragorn approaches Theoden after the beacons are lit in the Return of the King.

- Rowan is referred to as, “My friend through many dangers.” which is exactly what Gandalf says about Shadowfax, his horse, in Lord of the Rings.

- The Land before Time, 1988: ‘Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart.’

Crown of Midnight, SJM, 2011: ‘Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart.’

- ‘Spirit that could not be broken’ is seen in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) and Throne of Glass (2011).

- It’s possible that SJ/M may have plagiarised Maria V Snyder’s Poison Study(?) (published 2005). Both books begin with the heroine being released from prison and being offered the choice to be freed by working for the very rulers who’d imprisoned them. Also, Valek - Yelena’s love interest - is the greatest and most feared assassin in the country and also acts as a mentor to Yelena much like Rowan does in Heir of Fire. However, I think this is a questionable addition despite similarities because SJ/M began writing Queen of Glass in 2003 and all the aforementioned aspects that are similar were already present in the version she published online.

- S/JM has saved a pin of Connor Kenway from the Assassin's Creed series (AC3) as Rowan and Lorcan on Pinterest. Towards the end of the series they started using hatchets as weapons, which is Connor's choice of weapon, outside of swords, and is used heavily in art which features him. Aelin's assassin suit from the earlier books also had a blade built into it, which was very similar to the hidden blade the assassins in Assassin's Creed use.

Further reading: Why not everyone liked Connor’s characteristic traits being ripped off: https://dragonidk.tumblr.com/post/614614548495859712/i-went-through-sjms-tog-pinterest-board-the-other

Further reading: An article comparing EoS’s ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: https://thebookfinch.wordpress.com/2016/09/08/review-empire-of-storms-by-sarah-j-maas-in-which-we-discuss-plagiarism/

A/COTAR

- “Prythian”, the A/COTAR world, is taken directly from Anne Bishop’s Daughter of the Blood.

- The Archeron sisters could be based off the painting “The Acheson Sisters” by John Singer Sargent which features three women.

- The Illyrians could have been based off of the Eyriens from Anne’s Bishop’s Black Jewels series. Both are warrior races with bat wings that use a war blade to fight with. They also both completely refuse their women any right to fight and consider losing their wings to be the absolute worst thing that could happen to them. 

- Feyre tells Tamlin, “The sun was shining when I left you.” which is basically Paris saying, “The sun was shining when your wife left you.” in the movie Troy (2004)

- Rhys proclaims, “Light can be found even in the darkest of hells,” Which is really close to Dumbledore saying (in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

- Daenerys: “We’re going to leave the world better than we found it.” 

ACOWAR: “Leave this world… a better place than how you found it.”

- “Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” is a variation of “Pity the living and above all, those who live without love,” said by Dumbledore in the Deathly Hallows.

- A Dance of Dragons, George R.R. Martin, 2011: ‘He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I.’

ACOMAF, 2016: ‘Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh.’

- SJ/M may have also plagiarised The Chronicles of Prydain for ACOTAR wherein Prythian is altered to Prydain and The Cauldron is derived from The Black Cauldron. This may be especially true considering the fact that SJ/M has expressed her love for the books and stated it on Twitter. She also went on to mention that she got the name for Prythian from those books. Similarities to the cauldron can also be seen in the fact that SJ/M’s Cauldron can transform humans into fae while Alexander's Black Cauldron is able to resurrect the dead.

!!!! Further Reading: Noticeable similarities between ACOTAR and The Chronicles of Prydain series: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chronicles_of_Prydain

- Possible plagiarism(?) of Titanic: Rose is Feyre, Cal is Tamlin, Jack is Rhys. The story is similar - the girl is involved with a guy who seems nice enough, but turns out to be abusive etc. There are similar incidents of the table being chucked across the room/and the study being destroyed. Then you also have the girl being told the other guy isn't nice and she should stay away from him, but then it ends up being the other way round. The guy bosses her about, making her decisions for her and ends up dying for her later on.

- Rhapsody by Laura Thalassa and A/COTAR have awfully similar tropes. Both involve faeries, in both the main female lead leaves her barbaric boyfriend to go with the dark, elegant Fae boyfriend who came to collect a debt.

Further reading: A conversation in comparing The Vampire Diaries(?) to ACOTAR:  https://crescentcitysux.tumblr.com/post/618622356795064320/iolanthepeverells-pokeyfaes

Further reading: Similarities between Shatter Me and the ACOTAR trilogy: https://discountalien-pancake.tumblr.com/post/174823303683/dont-take-this-as-an-attack-im-just

C/RESCENT CITY

- Similarities between the plot of Darkfever by Karen Marie Morning (an author S/JM likes) and Crescent City’s plot: https://polysorscha.tumblr.com/post/183661492639/funny-thing-i-came-across-the-crescent-city

- The Princes of Hel might be from the Seven Princes of Hell demonology (some ancient writings trying to classify demons in christianity). [MINOR INFRACTION]

Sources:

- @sjm-exposed 

- @soartfullydone 

- @falstaffing for “My friend through many dangers.”

- https://readatmidnight.com/2018/10/27/book-rant-kingdom-of-ash/

- strangestoryteller.com

- https://camryndaytona.com/2019/08/sarah-j-maas-and-jrr-tolkien

- @rougeam for “fire made flesh”

- @sylphene for Aerin firehair 

- @sylphene and @paperbacktrash  for The Chronicles of Prydain.

- An anon for the Laura Thalassa comparison

- @hireath24 for the Crown of Midnight quote and “spirit that could not be broken.”

- @pokeyfaes and @iolanthepeverells for The Vampire Diaries comparison

- A reddit thread for the Titanic comparison 

- An anon for the Eyrians

- An anon and @dragonidk for the Assassin’s Creed addition

- @longsightmyth for Fireheart

[arrivisting]

Can I request the part that starts with "Thats a fine ring you wear, my friend" from A wandering fire for the author commentary?

Let's do this! Sorry it's so belated - I wrote half an answer on my laptop but I don't have it with me today, so I'm starting afresh. I apologise for my natural tendency to talktalktalk! You can see why I had to write this on a computer, not my phone.

Anyway, I thought it was very interesting you picked that bit! That's the bit I had in mind most strongly in the first flash of inspiration. I will show you my first notes (which were mixed up with those for the dawn from on high, since they began as the same idea):

I just had this strong, clear idea of Cirdan watching the first people come from the West, and then watching the ship leave at the end of the Third Age (which I wanted to have Maglor on - the idea that Cirdan had seen him come and finally go, and everything in-between).

I didn't keep to the notes - I forgot that I meant them to talk about beards ("Gandalf taken a note from Mahtan"), and for Cirdan to look at his humble guise and think that the Eldar would never again trust a stranger arrayed in silks and jewels, never again after Sauron as beautiful as the morning at the gates of Ost-in-Edhil.

Anyway! Obviously the Maglor and Gandalf stuff split off into the dawn from on high, and what was left of the bookend-idea - the ships arriving - went into a file I didn't touch again for over a year. All there was of what became a wandering fire (which was the original title of the dawn from on high) was the beginning - from 'Fëanor and his seven sons and their followers had arrived in their stolen white ships at what had seemed Beleriand’s darkest hour, and their arrival had come as a great balefire' to 'Help had come from the West at last: but not in time for Beleriand'; and then part of the conversation you asked for commentary on.

The joy of scribbling on my phone and across various computers and Gdocs is that I can pull up the original version (and oh, right, I've just reminded myself that this story was originally to be called a fire in the heart):

“It was never made for my hand,” Cirdan said. “I have been holding it in trust and in safety. Celebrimbor meant to wear it himself. If it was in Feanor that the spirit of fire burned most fiercely, and in Feanor’s voice that the power to move others to action was strongest, it lingered to the end in his line; although fire had ceased to be a friend to them long before.”

Olorin looked at him under his white brows. “The power of Feanor is no gift to wield lightly.”

“Celebrimbor was many things, and not all of them were wisely chosen, but he meant the Ring to be something far subtler than Curufinwe Feanaro ever was. The Ring of Fire will not kindle a sudden flame in men quickly, and burn as quickly to ashes; it is a coal, burning not brightly but long, to warm hearts and not to scald them.”

“I regret that I am come too late to know him,” Olorin said. “Too late for Celebrimbor of Eregion, and too late for Ereinion Gil-gilad; but in good time, I fear, to face again the shadow that was their doom when it gathers itself in might once more.

This is the oldest bit of the whole two-fics mess, back to 2019. It needed a little refitting to go into the dawn from on high, not least that I took away Gandalf's name. Let's (finally!) look at the published version (everything not quoted above being new, only written this April):

“That is a fine ring you wear, my friend.”

It had taken the stranger many weeks to speak of it. Círdan turned his hand over to regard Narya as though for the first time. Such gem-work did not kindle his blood. He bore it only for Gil-galad, who he had loved as his own son, though he had known better than to give his heart to any of that line. He had seen them all come from the West, and he had seen them all die. All but Eärendil, who had been translated beyond the world, and who had deserved a warmer honour.

Because this was always meant to be about beginnings/endings, arrivals/departures, I didn't go a lot into the meat of Cirdan's life, although a proper Cirdan-story, in the way I wrote an Elwing-story and a Finduilas-story, would do that; I would have written much more about his time in Beleriand-under-stars, and building the Falas with Finrod, and his feelings about Thingol, and much much much more about Gil-galad and Earendil, and the kind of life they managed on Balar and at the mouth of the Sirion! It really had to be compressed into a few lines here, though a lot of the material about fallen Lindon and Cirdan's watch there is really about his sublimated feelings for Gil-galad, and I got in a bit in other paragraphs:

Eärendil, who Círdan had loved, and taught, had sailed away in the ship they had built together, a desperate hope hurled into that same impossibility.

and

As though the great ships from Númenor might arrive again on the horizon with their holds full of strange things and strange stories! As though Aldarion might once more swing down from the deck of one, laughing, the image of Eärendil with his tousled blond head and his bright blue eyes, bellowing already for Gil-galad. As though Gil-galad himself still held court in Lindon’s empty halls, filled again with life and music; as though he would ever again put aside his work for this newest and youngest of cousins, and come sweeping down the halls in his robes of state to greet him, his eyes shining and his dark hair a floating banner under his silver crown and Elrond on his heels…

Oh, my Second Age feelings, and my curiosity about that world caught between apocalypses, and my wondering about what the fall of Numenor meant to that world, and to those who had known Elros, and many of his line.

We know Cirdan taught Earendil to build Vingilot, that Earendil was part of some of his swift ship attacks up and down the coast towards the end of the First Age: I wonder what it means to him to know that Earendil sacrificed everything for them, to watch him sail the heavens every night? I've said here he was translated beyond the world, 'and deserved a warmer honour', and my reading of canon is that Earendil is indeed beyond the world; that Elwing may fly to him, night after night, but that he himself never sets foot on land again. I hate that reading, though. I think it's in the text(s), but in my personal accounting Earendil is living his best life - sailing the skies, exploring the world from afar, and at times fighting bristling things in the Void - and still able to spend a day shift with his wife, in her Tower, and to see his family, to have a few snatched mortal joys. But I don't think that's what Tolkien meant for him.

Narya was always warm. It glowered in its golden setting, a clot of blood in a slice of sunlight.

What's funny is that this is a story about the Ring of Fire, but I got a lot of my Ring-feelings out after this idea, but before I posted this fic, in last love song for now. My stories are never in the same continuity unless I explicitly say so, put them into a series - I don't have the temperament for committing to a single reading of a scene or a character etc, not when there's so much room for play - but my Ring-feelings are pretty continuous. I think of Narya as Celebrimbor's ring, linked with fire-Feanor-heat, and I always have; though Tolkien never tells us it was meant by him for his own.

“It was never meant for my hand,” he said. “I believe Celebrimbor meant to wear it himself. It may have been in Fëanor that fire burned most fiercely, and in Fëanor’s voice that the power to move others to action was strongest, but those gifts lingered to the end in his line; although fire ceased to be a friend to them long before.”

You know, I think I like the original version better! Not all rewriting is good.

The Messenger’s brows rose in respect, and there was none of the usual flinching at the name. “The power of Fëanor is no gift to wield lightly.”

I wanted Gandalf to respond to this: I think this is a constellation of facts I'm pulling together here. Gandalf inherited the Ring of Fire, and wielded it; Gandalf spoke of Feanor's skill with real regret and wonder, with that catch-in-the-heart Tolkien quality that refuses black|white lines and sees the glory of the morning even after night has fallen; that remembers who Feanor was and who he could have been, and grieves for it:

‘No,’ said Gandalf. ‘Nor by Saruman. It is beyond his art, and beyond Sauron’s too. The palantíri came from beyond Westernesse, from Eldamar. The Noldor made them. Fëanor himself, maybe, wrought them, in days so long ago that the time cannot be measured in years.

and

"Have I not felt it? Even now my heart desires to test my will upon it, to see if I could not wrench it from him and turn it where I would—to look across the wide seas of water and of time to Tirion the Fair, and perceive the unimaginable hand and mind of Fëanor at their work, while both the White Tree and the Golden were in flower!’

You give Gandalf the power to look back in time, and he would want to see Feanor at work! That's the most wonderful thing out of his grasp that he could imagine! That is I think part of the bond between Gandalf and Galadriel; who is in some ways what Feanor could have, should have, could never have been. I would have loved for Gandalf to meet Celebrimbor - not as much as he would have, though - and I think that is a huge motivation behind this scene.

“Celebrimbor was many things,” said Círdan, “and not all of them were wisely chosen. Yet he meant the Ring of Fire to be something far subtler than Fëanor Finwë’s son ever was. Narya will not kindle a sudden flame in others too swiftly, nor burn them as quickly to ashes; it is a coal, burning not brightly but long, made to warm hearts and not to scald them.”

Me, beating my drum: justice for Celebrimbor!!!!

I do think of Celebrimbor's life, up until the moment of his death, as such a willed decision to not be Feanor. To turn against his father and uncles; to open the doors of Ost-in-Edhil and to share skill with those who came; to share artistic credit: to refuse kingship, to share lordship. To be trusting rather than suspicious, open-handed rather than jealous. It is such a tragedy that living his life in that way - unpicking all the old patterns and turning them inside out - didn't help him; only brought him to his hideous death, only gave him fatal vulnerabilities through which darkness could enter. But I think that choice to open doors and hands and heart, to be vulnerable, was nevertheless an important one. Wise? Perhaps not. But sometimes there are more important things than wisdom. (Another reason I would have liked Gandalf and Celebrimbor to meet).

Is this story really an elegy for everything and everyone lost in the First and Second Ages? Yes; and Celebrimbor not least. Anyway, I think of the Ring here as a desire to perfect Feanor's skills; to crystallise that ability to rouse hearts and minds as he did in the Great Square after the death of Finwe, and to use it for good. To warm rather than burn. In the Appendices, indeed, that seems to be its function:

Take this ring, master, [...] for your labours will be heavy; but it will support you in the weariness that you have taken upon yourself. For this is the Ring of Fire, and with it you may rekindle hearts in a world that grows chill.

That's what makes Narya such a good match for Gandalf, for me: that link to what the Feanorians could have been, that refining of what was worthy in them that Celebrimbor strained from the ashes, kept in trust until it could be given to someone who understood that too.

The Grey One bend (that should be BENT, I must go edit) his head. “I regret I am too late to know its maker,” he said. “To know those already lost. Still I come in good time, I fear, to face again the shadow that was his doom as it gathers itself in might once more.”

I regret it too!!! Always too late, the Shining Ones; at least in my reading.

Círdan had known it when the ships from the West began to arrive, though they came so quietly, with none of Eonwë’s trumpets. He had known even as he had seen Isildur turn over the ring of Sauron in his bloody fingers.

Oh, Thingol; dear his lord, whose silver blood from before the coming of the sun still ran in the mortal veins of fallen Númenor’s children. Who had died for peerless and perilous Noldor gem-work, when he might have instead lived all the Ages of the World with Melian beside him. That Doom, it seemed, was not yet done.

I really like the idea of that dilute Maia blood spreading out through all of Elros's line, filtering in lesser and greater degrees through innumerable daughters and second and third sons of that house; otherwise how else do you get the tall, beautiful, dark-haired and grey-eyed Numenoreans? The Hadorians were blond; the Haladin a middling brown; the Beorians were dark, but the Beorians were almost wiped out. There were few of that House left when Elros founded Numenor with the Three Houses of the Edain. I like the idea of seeing Numenor as a personal, familial loss: I know part of the oddness of its fall, in a Doylist sense, is Tolkien working backwards to insert it into Middle-earth when it was separately conceived, but for me: how do the Eldar live with it? These are the great-great-great(-greats) grandchildren of Elros himself: these are the descendants of Earendil and Elwing, of Turgon and Fingolfin, of Beren and Luthien, of Thingol and Melian, Finwe and Indis.

Okay, yes, some of them have joined a goth death-cult and they're getting into human sacrifice and are all ungrateful and slamming their doors and saying they don't love you anymore (adolescence is rough), but how do you watch a continent get fed to the sea and live with that? When you're Cirdan, and these are all still Thingol's children from afar, when you've watched the generations turn and loved some of them (Elros, Aldarion) dearly?

I also like the idea of dying for sparkly jewellery being an inherited doom, from Thingol's side as well as Earendil's, not to be worked out of the line until Aragorn refuses the Ring.

Three times he had seen an Age die, and yet his own work was not ended, and neither was the loss.

“How long do we have?”

The Grey Messenger spread his hands. “I cannot say. It is only a shadow and a whisper even yet, even in the sight and mind of those whose power and wisdom far exceeds my own. But shadows grow, and whispers swell. As you know, my friend.”

why do I like Gandalf calling people my friend so much? anyway, even the Valar are fallible. That's why they're bearable. If they could see all of Eru's design, if they were all-powerful and all-knowing, I would have to hate them for what they do and fail to do; but because they are not, I can see them as very alien but well-intentioned powers, doing their best, and sometimes doing ill. Intention means a lot; and I do think there's a lot about the Children they do not and cannot grasp, which is why you get things that are clearly going to lead to great disaster or pain, like Finwe's remarriage, or Ulmo telling Feanor he is part of the dissonance in the Song, or Feanor getting exiled, or the Doom; or Earendil, fixed in the heavens, or the cruel choice of the Peredhel -

He had known in his heart when he had set eyes on the Grey Stranger and seen that strange knotting of mortal and immortal in him. He had seen Nienna’s servant, come in humbleness rather than glory, to help and to weep together. He had watched him delight in his first biscuit, and he had known what to do when the shadow came again.

It is important to me that Gandalf learned much from Nienna. I do think it's why he wears grey. I like to think of him as her avatar, walking where she cannot, offering grace and mercy where she/he may. That is what makes Gandalf so successful an Istar; when so many other Maiar we see go wrong. Not that Melian herself is wrong, but she is almost too close to the Children (especially since Eru tells the Ainu that they are not to consider themselves the Children's parents; Melian literally becomes such), so much so that she is damaged terribly by the loss of Thingol, and her flight wounds Doriath. What happens to the Blue Wizards? We don't know; but not what should. The Brown Wizard hews too closely to Yavanna's creatures. The White goes too far in the other direction, in the path already beaten by Sauron and his Ainu kin before him: to power, and to might, and to ignoring Eru's will for their relation to his Children. I see Eonwe as too glorious and too distant for real connection. But Gandalf is neither too close nor too far: he is kind, and he can be powerful; he has humour, and a delight in small things. Age and experience have drawn him close. It hurts a little that his rebirth as the White takes a little of that humanity from him and replaces it with majesty, but the essentials are still there.

Anyway, that's why I wanted him already to be quite proud of his beard, and trying biscuits, and being delighted by them.

He slid Narya from his finger and watched surprise wash like morning light over the Messenger’s face.

This is a call back to the line "Too late, when great white Swan-ships arrived at last with the Valar’s blessings from the West, their white sails washed yellow-gold with the dawn." That was at the end of the First Age; now, at the beginning of the Third, we have another morning, and another start, and the Valar have refined their touch upon the world; it is much more careful, and their proxies (or at least Gandalf) better fitted to help Middle-earth save itself than Eonwe and his host of Vanyar were.

“It was made to be wielded by a counsellor,” Círdan warned. “Not a king. Never a king! Celebrimbor knew better than that. It was intended for guidance and for wisdom - in war, and in dark times.”

This is part of my thinking from last love song for now: that the most powerful ring was meant to be Vilya, and that the choice to associate fire (/Feanor) with a lesser ring was meaningful, and part of Celebrimbor's overall purpose. And again working with what little we know of Narya from canon: For this is the Ring of Fire, and with it you may rekindle hearts in a world that grows chill.

The Grey One did not reach for it, though one hand had risen from his lap, age-spotted and painfully Mannish, and hovered in the air. “I am not of the Eldar,” he said. “It was not meant for me.”

“I have seen kings and lords enough rise and fall to know that the right to an inherited Doom is no recommendation. I have seen every arrival from the West since Fëanor, who came blazing and ended in darkness; and in Narya, you see certain of his gifts as they might have been. It belongs, I think, to the hope from the West that he should have been; to one who might use it to bring light to the darkness of this land where the Valar themselves will not come.”

Oh, so this is all newer stuff - and the right to refuse an inherited doom is meant to call to another new bit (Elrond refusing to be Gil-galad's heir in the mold of the High Kings). And you see again me beating the Feanor as he might have been; Feanor's skill at kindling hearts used wisely, sparingly drum. Oh, I'm subtle!*

*I am not

This is also a little bitterness that I don't know I necessarily think Cirdan feels - what patience there is in his long service! - but I have built in this a case for a little bitterness, at this moment, at the end of the Second Age. (To lose everything in one Age is accident; in two, incompetence!!). When the loss of Gil-galad et al is so recent, and so too is the loss of Numenor. If one is ever to feel anger at the Valar for their oscillating pattern of non-interference/over-interference, it is now.

“Cannot come,” said Nienna’s servant, and took the flower of so much Noldor genius and pain from Círdan, who had never wanted it. “They do what they can, Lord of the Havens. As do we all.”

But Gandalf is here! They've got the balance right, in him! He is going to warm the chill in your heart, Cirdan, and give you the strength to face yet one more long Age of slow bleeding-out and loss; and you will see an end to it. And again you see me beating my 'the Valar have good intentions, but imperfect knowledge and understanding, but they're trying' drum.

Sorry again this was so late!

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

This is so random ahaha but do you have any songs or albums (any genre) that fit the individual characters? Love the series!

We have several very long playlists! Here’s a sampling, interpret as you wish, but a few are annotated:

Glitter and Gold -  Barns Courtney

Land of the Living - Roo Panes (*current healing timeline*)

Where Do We Draw the Line - Poets of the Fall

Anchor - Bastille (Fingon & Maedhros) 

Poison and Wine - The Civil Wars (Feanor/Nerdanel)

Ghosts that We Knew - Mumford and Sons

Wicked Man's Rest - Passenger (Maedhros)

The Parting Glass - The High Kings

Seven Devils - Florence and the Machine (Sons of Feanor)

Revolver - Vian Izak (Gwindor & Maedhros) 

In terms of albums, I know I (TolkienGirl) often use “Atlas I” by Sleeping All Right, a lot of Mumford & Sons, a lot of Florence + the Machine, and various somber instrumentals. We will try to share more soon!

Updated to add: Hell or High Water - The Rescues (a very important AU song)

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Glorfindel

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter17

Masterlist

Summary: After Daenery's death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost without her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnings: None, i think 😁😁

Words: 2k

Posing my sword beside my travel bag, I look through the window from my chambers, seeing my children flying around in the blue sky. Today was the day that I leave for the blessed lands, Valinor, with a small army. I hope this works...  

A strong arm wraps around my small waist, pulling into a hard chest. A smile broke in my lips as I smell my husband flowery scent “Melleth nin...” I whisper, feeling his warm lips on my neck. He lets out a Hmm, kissing along my shoulder “Are you ready?” I ask, turning around to look to his beautiful eyes, seeing them full of life and love.    

Glorfindel gives me one last kiss on my shoulder “Yes, my love. Everything is ready for us to leave.” he says a while putting a piece of my silver hair behind my ear. I rest my forehead on his and close my eyes, “I hope my plan works, Glorfindel...Middle-Earth can’t be lost...” my voice came out weak and frail, he put his long fingers under my chin and lifted, making me look to him “Daenys, don’t worry...The Valar will see the truth in your words and they will help us with everything their have!” he says with a cheerful voice.    

A small smile appears on my face “What I would do without you, Melleth nin.” he let out a chuckle “Burning a Kingdom of a certain Elven King.” a huge smirk form on his lips. I roll my eyes and punch him on the shoulder playfully “Shut up...” I say, trying to hide my smile.  

He picks my bag a while I took one last time look to myself in the mirror, seeing my travel clothes were exactly like of my mother’s.    

I was wearing a black leather dress, that stopped on my shins, with black legging underneath. A silver chain ran from my right shoulder to my left side of my waist, holding a red cape that had a scaly pattern.  

My silver hair was made in Dothraki style, full of braids. And last, on top of my head was a silver crown, with three dragons' heads and a small golden flower in the middle, representing the house of Glorfindel.  

Happy with my look, I turn back and grab my sword, putting on my waist “Let’s go!” I say a while picking Glorfindel's large hand.  

                                                     ~~~~~~  

It has passed two days since we left Rivendell and we have one more day of traveling to the Grey Havens, to the port that will take us to Valinor.  

Glorfindel stops his horse “We will camp here tonight! Start building the camp!” he yells to the army of elves.  

Giving a pet on my horse neck, I dismount from his back, letting the guard take him to his stall. I lift my arms in the air, stretching my sore body. A small smile forms on my lips as I heard the roars of my dragons, I turn my head to the side and saw them landing on the vast clearing beside the camp “You have beautiful children.” I close my eyes as Tyrion voice sounded behind me.  

I looked him over the shoulder “Yes...yes I do.” I say, turning my gaze back to my dragons, who were now resting on the tall grass. He took some more steps so he was beside me, looking to my children “Do you think this plan is going to work?” he asks me, taking out of his pocket a small bottle of wine, taking large gulp “The army of dead are larger than before, we have to fight almost every person in Westeros!... I will do anything on my power to get the Valar to help us.” he only nods, scratching his beard.  

We stay in silence for a moment, watching the stars shining beside the large moon in the dark sky. After a while, Tyrion let out a sigh “It’s a strange world in here....elves, orcs, hobbits, blessed lands where Gods walk among us, it's all so surreal.” I look down to him, seeing his eyes in awe and fear “Yes...it’s a strange place but it’s full of amazing creatures and people.” my voice was soft, remembering the good memories that I have here, the amazing moments that I had with my husband and my friends. It’s a strange world but it’s a world that has accepted for who I am.  

(Glorfindel P.O.V)  

“Here! Let me help you.” I say a while picking up a heavy chest, lending a hand to the elves that were carting boxes, the elf bows his head “Thank you, My Lord!” he says with a large smile, his eyes full of relief that he hasn’t carried all those heavy chests and boxes alone.  

I help to build some tents and water the horses, let them run free for a bit. I sat down by a tree, watching the horses run on the small pasture, I grab my sword and start to polish it. I can’t believe that I'm returning to Valinor. How people will react when they saw me arriving with a small army of elves and two humans and four dragons that were from another world? A small smile appears on my face. Ohh... I almost could see the shocked face of the Valar.  

Suddenly a noise of a bush shaking interrupted my thoughts, I shot up from my seat “Who’s there?!” I say firmly, grabbing tightly the handle of my sword.  

A large cloak figure appears from the middle of the bushes “Who are you?” I ask again, getting in combat position. The figure took a step forward, pushing the cloak behind “It’s been a while, old friend!” a gasp escape from me as I saw his face. No...  

Standing there in front of me was Maglor, the second son of Feanor, the last of the Feanorians. His facial expression was tired and his skin was pale like the moon, contrasting with his black hair “Maglor...Why are you here?” I whisper, shocked to see him here “I’ve heard from the Edain that you and your wife were going to sail to Valinor... to ask the Valar help to defeat the ice demons.” he says with melancholic voice.  

I nod, softening the grip from the sword handle “Yes...but why are you here?” I ask firmly “I want to join you two!....i want to help you defeat those monsters...so I could clean the horrors that I and my brothers caused on middle-earth.” I notice a tear falling down his cheek, his eyes full of sorrow.  

A sigh escapes from me as I scratch the back of my neck “I can’t decide that, only my wife could let you join us on this quest...Come! I will take you to her.” I say a while turning back to the camp, walking in the direction of where Daenys were.  

                                                 ~~~~~~~  

We arrived at the vast clearing, as the guards informed me where she would be. A gasp escapes from Maglor as he saw the four large dragons lying on the ground, besides their mother, who was sitting on the grass rubbing their warm scales.  

I led him to them, grabbing the attention of Viseral. He moves his large head and pushes his warm snout into my side, purring softly “Hello, Viseral!” I say softly. Daenys lifts her head and gave me one of her beautiful smiles “Melleth nin! Where were you?” her voice was like a morning bird, making my body relax just from hearing her speak “I’m sorry, my love. I was helping the servants with the camp... I brought you, someone, to meet.” as I say the last words, she moves her to the side, peeking through me, noticed Maglor standing there, looking to her in awe.  

She grabs my hand and I help her standing up “This is Maglor, son of Feanor...he wishes to join us on this quest.” I say calmly. Maglor bent down on one knee “Lady Daenys! Please, let me join you on this quest! Helping you to defeat those ice demons!” she looks down to him, eyeing him carefully, knowing about his past “I know what it feels to live the mistakes that a father or grandfather have done...to suffer the consequences of their mistakes.” she says softly a while petting Daenerion snout “I will give you a change, Feanorian! I hope you don’t waste it.” her voice was firm but at the same time calm.  

Maglor stood up, looking to her with a small smile and his eyes full of hope “Thank you, My Lady! I will honor your word.” I walk to Daenys and wrap my hand around hers, giving a soft squeeze.  

(Daenys P.O.V)  

Finally, we have arrived at Grey Havens, the port was beautiful. The tall building came out from the calm water, with columns to support them. Elves were walking around, doing their duties and organizing our arrival.  

“Lord Glorfindel!” all a sudden a voice boomed beside us, I turn my head and saw a tall elf with silver hair walking towards us with a big smile but something grabbed my attention, this elf had a long silver beard! “Cirdan! It’s good to see you.” he and Glorfindel hugged each other, laughing like a pair of elflings.  

Cirdan looks over Glorfindel's shoulder and smiles at me “So this is the brave woman! I must ask you, how in the world did you end up with Golden head over here? You are too much for him—Ouch!” Glorfindel cut him off with a punch on his shoulder, making Cirdan laugh.  

A giggle fell from my lips “That’s a question that I make every day!” with this Cirdan let out a loud laugh, cleaning his tears “Well, My Lady! Your ships are ready.” I thank him and Glorfindel orders his army to board.  

As I was entering the ship, with the help of Maglor, I heard Cirdan whispering to Glorfindel “You are a lucky elf!” “That I am!” Glorfindel said with a proud smile.  

I shake my head and walk to the front of the ship, watching the calm waves hitting the boat.  

After a while of boarding everything on the ships, the captain yells to start sailing, making our ship to move first.  

Glorfindel grab my hand and kiss it softly “Ready?” I nod and smile “Ready!” my voice came out firmly. I look forward confidently, seeing the vast ocean around us. Drogon and the young dragons flew by us, always staying near the ships to protecting me.  

I took a deep breath, Glorfindel, Tyrion and Maglor beside me. Here we go!...

Hey Guys!!! The new chapter is here. The big journey has begun, Daenys is sailing to Valinor with her Dragons!!! Who is excited to see how the Valar would react?? And the other elves?? I hope you are enjoying this series, feel free to comment and tell me what you think!

XOXO

Taglist: @gwendelerynan​ @yes-captainstark​ @crazyonesarethebest​ @foggyturtleknightangel​ @damniitjim​ @moonchild-stuff​ @shanty-lol​ @lasswarrior​ @llama2264​ @demonquartz​ @dipsylou​ @jazz-playing-queer​ @nikipuppeteer​ @kxnngsshirecoffee​ @anoirevictoria​ @sulfur-and-the-sea​

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #4 Caranthir - dyeing

With cooperation come new handcrafting tecniques, and Caranthir doesn't know which one is his favourite: learning or teaching.

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@feanorianweek #4 Caranthir - tinturas

Junto con la cooperación vienen nuevas técnicas manuales, y Caranthir no sabe cual de las dos pociones aprecia mas: si aprender o enseñar.

[arianaofimladris]

Mistakes

Chapter 1 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177132346092/mistakes

Chapter 2 http://arianaofimladris.tumblr.com/post/177159697417/mistakes

Chapter 3

They rode without a moment of break. Vorindon did not leave his commander even for a moment, passing his orders to the others. He watched Maedhros discreetly, anxious and uncertain what to expect. It was the first time Maedhros was leading a scouting party with one goal only – to kill. Vorindon saw that in his flaming eyes, in his tensed shoulders and fingers clenching on the sword. The Enemy had struck where it hurt most. He got his brother, let alone the youngest one. For Amras Maedhros was even ready to open to osanwe. Vorindon had seen him freezing in his saddle with his eyes closed, while his horse kept the pace of the others. At first Maedhros would share what he had learned, but when he lost contact with his brother, he gave them only one command.

Go on.

They rode into the orcs’ camp with in last moments of the grim day. Vorindon had promised himself not to leave his commander’s side, unsure if he would be able to manage the fight, but he just wasn’t able to keep up.

Maedhros used the first impact to trample the nearest orcs, but then he jumped off his saddle and charged forward. The steel in his hand flashed as he moved and the orcs scattered around, but to no avail. Maedhros’s sword reached them one by one and those who managed to flee were slain by the other Noldor.

Vorindon spotted the elf thrown between the stones and made his way towards him. He beheaded the orc that was leaning over Amras with a knife in his hand while the Noldo covering him slain the other. Vorindon looked at Maedhros, but he seemed to be occupied with fighting, if one could call so the slaughter he made. And, unlike his brother, he certainly did not need any help.

Amras was alive, this much Vorindon noticed as soon as he made sure someone was covering his back and he could take care of the prisoner. The young lord looked awful with his bloodied face hidden between his arms, stretched above his head and tied. He was unconscious and did not react to untying him nor to lowering his arms. Vorindon made sure he would not choke on his own blood and moved him carefully to his side, then glanced back at Maedhros.

“Nelyafinwe, here!” he called as he saw his commander looking vigilantly around, even as he was standing among the corpses of the orcs and his Noldor were slaying the last of the escaping enemies.

There was something in Maedhros’s eyes as he looked at him that Vorindon regretted calling his old childhood friend by his name. Maedhros approached them quickly. His movements were fluent and he was still searching for danger. If he seemed imposing to the elves, he must have been a terrifying sight for the orcs.

“Is he alive?” he asked shortly, casting an examining look on his brother; unlike the others, he did not lower his sword.

“He is,” nodded Vorindon, tracing his fingers on Amras’s forehead up to the still bleeding cut on his temple. “My lord,” he added hesitantly; Maedhros was a puzzle to him right now. “I am going to need some help to tend to him,” he suggested uncertainly. He needed to examine Amras closer to assess all the damage, but he could easily see the bloody lashes on his back and his swollen arms.

“Then find yourself someone who has two hands,” ordered Maedhros. He knelt for a moment and brushed his fingers against his brother’s cheek, then jumped back on his feet and looked around his elves. “Gather all the belongings of our elves, leave the rest. Vorindon, tend only what needs to be tended now. We’re leaving. The sooner we’re back, the better.”

For the first time since their meeting after Maedhros’s rescue Vorindon felt so intimidated that he did not dare to ask if he was going to stay by his brother’s side. Amras looked pitiful and he would surely appreciate that, provided that they managed to wake him at all.

His shirt was just a bloodied rag, but the youngest son of Feanor didn’t even stir as Vorindon touched his arms and torso. He examined all the cuts and bruises, but decided they were not life-threatening and could wait. Amras’s swollen shoulders caught his attention.

“If you hold him still, I will set his arms while he’s still unconscious,” said Aphedir above him. He crouched next to Vorindon and hissed angrily. “It will get worse later.”

“Lord Nelyafinwe wished us to hurry,” muttered Vorindon quietly, but he elevated the unconscious elf and immobilised him. Aphedir was right, it was best to deal with the dislocated shoulders right now; Maedhros would have to wait a moment longer.

Many of the elves looked with sympathy as Amras screamed, but Vorindon focused on keeping the wounded in place. He had not found any deep wound that could make him bleed to death, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have overlooked something.

“No, no, n-no....” moaned Amras hoarsely and his breath quickened as he shivered.

“The other one,” ordered Aphedir. “Let’s be done with it.”

Amas tried weakly to break free, moaning and breathing spasmodically when Vorindon shifted under him to make Aphedir some space. The wounded was shaking more and more violently and he tried to grasp something with the fingers of his already fixed arm, even if he could not lift it .Vorindon tried to hush him, but with no success.

“He won’t calm down unless he can see you,” spoke Maedhros suddenly over them. “Wash his eyes and ready him for travelling. And hurry up!” he rushed them impatiently and left before Vorindon had a chance to reply.

Just like he was told, he damped a piece of dressings and pressed it to the cut on Amras’s temple, then wiped his eyes until he softened the dried blood. The youngest son of Feanor froze motionless, and when he finally was able, he opened his eyes and blinked.

“It’s us, Pityafinwe,” spoke Vorindon calmly, but as he saw the unfocused gaze, he stopped hoping he would be understood. “You are safe,” he promised and pressed his waterskin to the wounded elf’s lips.

Amras drank greedily as soon as he felt water in his mouth, as if afraid it would be taken away. Vorindon didn’t have the heart to stop him, so he just made sure he would not choke.

“Let’s fix the other,” said Aphedir as Vorindon put the empty skin away. “There’s no point in waiting.”

‘And it is unwise to test the lord’s patience,’ added Vorindon silently and nodded. There was no point in telling Amras what they were about to do, so he just grabbed him firmly.

Amras cried shortly before he bit back his lip in a desperate attempt to compose himself. The next thing he did was to throw up all the water he had just drunk. He tried to curl on his side, but when Aphedir grabbed his legs, he choked and went limp.

“Leave the leg.” Maedhros stopped them before they checked what caused such a violent reaction. “It’s not bleeding. Just cover him and put him on a horse.”

  And there is more about the sons of Feanor in here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1101852

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #7 Feanaro - light

Feanaro has always been fascinated with the ceremonail basin, pretending he's catching the light in his hands

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@feanorianweek #7 - Feanaro - luz

Feanaro siempre ha estado fascinado con la pila ceremonial, jugando a que atrapa la luz en sus manos.

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #1 Maedhros - Diving

Diving lessons with dad,

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@feanorianweek #1 Maedhros - Buceo

Lecciones de buceo con papá

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #2 Maglor - a place to jam

They had a secret place where they could experiment, either with their music or with each other.

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@feanorianweek #2 Maglor - un lugar para improvisar

Tenían un lugar secreto donde podían experimentar, ya fuera con su música o con ellos mismos.

[lidoshka]

@feanorianweek #4: Curufin (and wife) - lovers

Their days were now filled with laughter and joy

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@feanorianweek #4: Curufin (y esposa) - amantes

Sus días ahora estaban llenos de risas y alegría