#who is high king back in valinor

[eglerieth]

Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:

• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind

• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF

• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger

• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves

• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite

• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET

• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”

• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION

• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom

• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating

• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators

• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.

• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels

• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon

• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king

• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing

• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung

• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics

• spent 60 years writing said autobiography

• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read

• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too

• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression

• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors

• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone

• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will

• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves

• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be

• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor

• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor

Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.

[anghraine]

I know this has been noticed before, but Glorfindel delivering a prophecy about the Witch-king's destruction does not mean that Glorfindel is laying down the law about the Witch-king's vulnerability. Glorfindel in no way has that ability. He's struck by foresight about how the Witch-king will eventually fall and knows it won't be by the hand of "man." This doesn't mean any non-man/Man on the battlefield could have done it, or that Merry or Éowyn have some special "not a man" powers or abilities vs the Witch-king, but that Glorfindel prophetically knows the person/people who are going to end up doing it will not be men in any sense.

The ambiguity of Glorfindel's use of "man" here works really well for the English text, I'd say. In Tolkien's usage especially, "man" can mean "the species of humanity" or "adult male person," allowing for Glorfindel's prophecy to refer to Merry or Éowyn or both, but definitely not to Eärnur (an adult male and a human, however special).

BUT ALSO to be a pedantic nerd (when am I not?):

In-story the direct context of Glorfindel's prophecy is Glorfindel trying to convince Eärnur of Gondor not to pursue the Witch-king in Gondor's campaign against Angmar after the destruction of Arthedain. Glorfindel held him back at the time by telling him that he wasn't destined to defeat the Witch-king. But Glorfindel is a High Elf out of Valinor and Eärnur is a Númenórean prince of Gondor. Even by the end of the age, it's still very likely that a conversation between two such people would be in Sindarin or Quenya, and this interaction happens long before then.

This matters because, while the man/Man ambiguity works really well on a literary/meta level in English with what ends up happening, in the world of the story it wouldn't have been delivered in a language that actually contains that ambiguity (even Common may not, for all we know, but is unlikely to have been used here anyway). So, for instance, if Glorfindel was speaking to Eärnur in Quenya, he would have likely used either nér (adult male) or atan (human being), depending on which he actually meant.

From everything I've read of Tolkien's thoughts on the defeat of the Witch-king, I personally think it's likely that the prophecy would have referred to Éowyn rather than Merry, instrumental as he was.

But weirdly, this actually makes a lot of sense for the characters as well, IMO. Given how extremely unusual it appears to be for women of any species to be in direct combat in the regions where the Nazgûl are mainly active in the Third Age, it fits the Witch-king's overconfidence if he understood it to refer to gender and regarded himself as no more likely to be slain by a male Elf or dwarf or wizard than by Eärnur. And that would also fit with the uncertainty that strikes him when Éowyn declares that she's a woman.

So, in-story, I think the prophecy actually is about her and, more broadly, about gender.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"The Last Temptation": One Megathread to Rule Them All - Clues and Speculation, PART 1

By now everyone in the “Rings of Power” fandom is aware of “The Last Temptation” - Galadriel and Sauron scene in the finale (2x08) - so I’ll save myself the trouble of further explaining it, because we have more interesting things to talk about.

What happens in this scene? What is the season building towards? And what are clues, foreshadowing or red herrings the episodes have given us so far?

It's pretty much confirmed that Sauron will pitch the “be my queen” question to Galadriel, again. I usually don’t pay much attention to the actors’ interviews because they’ll say anything to avoid spoiling the story and spill the beans, but sometimes it’s important for context.

From Episode 7 preview, we know that Galadriel will arrive at Eregion and share a heartfelt moment with Celebrimbor (I'll come back to this scene later on). However, the showrunners have teased that 2x07 is an Elrond-centered episode, and I don’t think Sauron and Galadriel will reunite before the finale (2x08) because that’s one of the climaxes of the season. Anyway, my guess is that Sauron has already left Eregion once Galadriel arrives.

1) Will Galadriel resist or succumb to Sauron’s temptation? 

You cannot face him alone.

To me, this scene with Gil-galad is the most important one, when foreshadowing is concerned. Mainly because our High King of the Noldor got it right last season, so we better pay attention to what he says.  

We foresaw that if Galadriel’s search should have continued, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.

Gil-galad tells Elrond the true reason why he sent Galadriel back to Valinor (1x01) 

Oh, boy, and how right he was! 

But Gil-galad isn’t the only character who warns Galadriel she can’t face Sauron alone because she might not be able to resist him: 

Similar to Gi-galad, Elrond shares the same concern.

And why would he think that?

In 2x06, it’s Adar who warns Galadriel she might succumb to Sauron as well, because she’s acting quite smug at being able to resist him once before (1x08). 

I resisted.

For a while, perhaps.

His eye bores a hole and the rest of him slithers in.

So far, this season, we have three different characters warning Galadriel that she might succumb to Sauron if she faces him alone at the finale. Unsure if Celebrimbor will tell her the same thing in 2x07, but three characters saying the same thing is far from a red herring, at this point.

2) And so, the main question now is: will Galadriel face Sauron alone, out of her own volition? Or does Sauron chase after her to isolate her from the rest?  

We already know that Galadriel is consumed by the idea of finding Sauron, and to destroy him; but now, she’s motivated not only by her brother’s death at the hands of his werewolves, but due to her belief that everything she experienced with Halbrand (and the connection they had: friendship, romantic, ambiguous) was a lie and part of Sauron’s schemes of deception. 

However, in this scene in particular (2x02), Galadriel is feeling especially vulnerable, and eventually agrees with both Elrond and Gil-Galad, that she can’t face Sauron alone because she’s unaware of what might happen if she lets him in, again (meaning, she might actually succumb to him). 

However, from 2x02 until 2x06, Galadriel grows bolder and more confident, mostly aided by Nenya and the visions and the guidance the ring of power provides her with. Although, I would argue it was never her intention to face Sauron alongside Elrond and the others, and this scene was a moment of weakness (or the red herring itself).

I swear to you, High King. I will not stop until he is destroyed and I have put this right.  

Morfydd Clark herself has said that Galadriel knows she messed up really bad, and is on a desperate mission for redemption. However, last season she was also desperate in finding Sauron and destroy him, and that worked wonders, didn’t it? 

Based on this, I would say Galadriel will seek out Sauron all by herself in the finale. We already saw Galadriel and Adar paralleling each other in their pursuit for Sauron, and how consumed and obsessed both of them are by it. While Adar is sacrificing his “children” to destroy Sauron, Galadriel thrown Elrond under the bus (by telling Adar he’s the one who carries Nenya) just to get a chance of finding Sauron and face him herself. 

Galadriel’s pride is her main flaw of character, and usually what gets her into trouble (in both RoP and the books, with her only letting go of her pride on the Third Age when Frodo offers her the One Ring and she declines). And in this case, her pride will be her downfall. She believes she'll always resist Sauron, because what he offered her last time (power) wasn’t enough to tempt her.   

My guess is that Galadriel will lure Sauron out either by using Morgoth’s iron crown or Nenya, but my money is on the first option (as we saw on the trailers).

3) Elrond’s Choice

Before we get into the rabbit hole that is Sauron’s plan concerning Galadriel, we have to talk about Elrond’s promise in 2x04:

This scene might be a red herring or foreshadowing, but I’m inclined to believe the later. And it can either happen in either 2x07 or in 2x08 (during the “Last Temptation” scene).  

Since 2x07 is an Elrond-centered episode I would argue it would make more sense for this choice to happen in this episode. In the preview, we saw Elrond and Adar having a conversation in the same tent he dined with Galadriel and proposed an alliance to her (that didn’t work out, did it?). Adar knows Elrond carries Nenya, but he has other interests in dealing with the Elves, too. 

He expressed to Galadriel his desire in knowing what comes after Sauron is defeated and the fate of the Orcs, seeking out a truce between Elves and Orcs, which would allow him and his “children” to live in peace in Mordor. I believe he will propose this to Elrond, too. In exchange, Adar might want to use Galadriel to lure Sauron out.

And so, in 2x07 Elrond might have to choose between saving Galadriel or stopping Sauron.

But now you are wondering: if Elrond allows Galadriel to remain Adar’s prisoner and she’s at Eregion in the same episode, this theory doesn’t make any sense? How did she escaped? Well, that’s a question for another time, but another character might set her free (one who would make the show more complex and give Galadriel some character’s growth and development).

4) Galadriel’s Sacrifice  

She sacrificed herself to save us all.

No, you are mistaken, Camnir. She did not do it to save us. She did it to save the ring.

These quotes are from 2x04, when Galadriel faces the Orcs by herself and eventually gets captured by Adar. However, it’s the second time in this episode there is a mention of Galadriel either sacrificing herself, or something.

This can be foreshadowing for several things: 

Celebrimbor’s death (since she says this after Elrond talks about how his father once prophesized Celebrimbor’s life would one day be on his hands); 

Galadriel goes to fight Sauron alone (it can be an extra layer of foreshadowing to this happening); 

Galadriel sacrificing herself to save Middle-earth (meaning she goes/joins Sauron at the end). 

5) Sauron’s plan concerning Galadriel 

Sauron is in Eregion in the middle of his “Rings of Power” masterplan. However, and through his interactions with Mirdania, Galadriel’s Doppelgänger, it’s clear she’s still very much on his mind, and is a part of his plans of domination.

The plan is simple: Sauron wants Galadriel as his queen, still. 

But why? Galadriel is not yet the powerful "elf-witch" she'll become in the future.He can see her potential, sure, but would that be enough to explain his obsession? There is a lot of meta already about the parallels between Morgoth/Silmarils and Sauron/Galadriel, so I won’t get into that here.

How strange. When the light... caught your hair... for amoment, you seemed her perfect likeness. 

Whose likeness? 

Why, Lady Galadriel, of course. 

There is a lot of discourse going on in the “Rings of Power” fandom concerning Sauron’s true feelings for Galadriel: obsession, love or something else because he, being an immortal spirit, is uncapable of “human-like” feelings.  

The answer is easy: both obsession and love are correct. The ones arguing Sauron is not capable of love are wrong. According to the lore, Maiar can fall in love, and one Maia did fall in love with an Elf (and these characters happen to be Elrond’s ancestors). Mairon is capable of love. But he’s a fallen Maia, corrupted by Morgoth, and, so, his love is also corrupted into possessiveness, obsession, jealousy, unsatisfiable lust, emotional turmoil, pain and suffering.  

I would even argue that Sauron fell in love with Galadriel while he was on his somewhat “repentant era”, and it started out as something purer, but it’s twisting into something darker as he goes deeper and deeper into evil, until it turns into hatred, later on.

In 2x06, and in order to manipulate Celebrimbor into finishing the Nine rings of power and prevent him from finding out Eregion is under attack, Sauron conjures a vision of “Everything is well on Eregion”. However, after Celebrimbor leaves, he’s left alone in his own vision (delusions) and his thoughts dwell on Galadriel.  

How do we know this? We have several characters randomly mentioning “it’s a horse! A horse! It’s a horse!”. When I first watch this scene I was a bit taken back. But nothing is random, folks:

And then we have Sauron the Poet:  

All of these clues are meant to show us, the audience, that Galadriel is still on Sauron’s mind. And that he harbors some quite strong feelings for her. And this will come into play in “The Last Temptation” scene, like the director of the finale, Charlotte Brändströmm teased on “X-Ray Vision” podcast: 

I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you see that at the very end. 

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Looking at the parts on Númenor in Unfinished Tales (and the LOTR appendix chronology) made me notice something Tolkien does with the history of Númenor that is very thoughtful, very important, and often neglected by other fantasy authors: he distinguishes between fighting on the right side and being the good guys, and he even delves into how those two things can work against each other.

Three times in particular, the Númenoreans help to defend Middle-Earth against Sauron. In Aldarion’s time, in the 800s, Aldarion spends much time establishing and rebuilding a port/haven on the coast of southern Eriador, to guard against invasion of the north through what will later be the Gap of Rohan. In 1700, Tar-Minastir sends a large force to drive back Sauron and rescue Gil-galad and Elrond and their people after the forging of the Rings and the destruction of Eregion. And, of course, near the end of the Second Age Ar-Pharazon sends the vast fleet and army that takes Sauron captive.

And each of these times are associated with successive stages in Númenor’s moral decline.

Aldarion is the first warning sign. His father, Tar-Meneldur, a wise man, discourages his voyaging, accurately fearing that it “sows the seeds of recklessness and the desire of other lands to hold”. Aldarion likewise marks the beginning of Númenoreans regarding nature as something to be valued for its use rather than for itself: trees as timber, not as forests. This is also when the Númenoreans begin to log Eriador - their logging will eventually be so extensive that, whereas virtually the whole area from the coast to the Misty Mountains to the Gap of Rohan was forested at the start of the Second Age, by the time of LOTR only the tiny fragment of the Old Forest remains. It’s not for nothing that the trees there are hostile to Men (and Hobbits). (This may not have been happening in the same way in Aldarion’s time - in Númenor he spends great efforts on replanting trees, nothwithstanding the ecological distinction between ‘tree plantations’ and ‘forests’, and he may have done the same in Middle-earth - but it’s still the starting point.)

And he does work extensively in Middle-earth to build defences against Sauron (or ‘the shadow in the east’; they don’t know it’s Sauron yet) and is described as “the friend and counsellor of Gil-Galad.” Yet the very growth in power, pragmatism, and expansionism that is involved in doing this is the start of Númenor’s downward path.

Next, we have Tar-Minastir, who drives back Sauron from Eregion during the War of the Elves and Sauron, following the forging of the Rings of Power, when Gil-galad, Elrond, and the Elves of Eregion are almost defeated. Unfinished Tales says “he loved the Eldar but envied them” and built a high tower to gaze westwards towards Valinor. And it is in the immediate aftermath of his rule that Númenor enters its phase of exploitative imperialism: his son Tar-Ciryatan is “a mighty king, but greedy of wealth; he built a great fleet of royal ships, amd his servants brought back great store of metal and gems, and oppressed the men of Middle-earth.” The next king, Tar-Atanamir, likewise “exacted heavy tribute from the men of the coasts of Middle-earth”, and was the first to be openly hostile to the Valar and the Eldar. The Silmarillion describes Ciryatan and Atanamir as “proud men, eager for wealth” who “laid the men of Middle-earth under tribute, taking now rather than giving”.

(As an aside: this is a period where I’m particularly curious about what Gil-galad and Elrond were thinking, and the decisions they had to make. The Númenoreans have just recently decisively rescued them, and it may not be going too far to say the Elves of Eregion and Lindon are military dependent on Númenor. And yet the Númenoreans are now mistreating and oppressing the men of Middle-earth. How to balance military/political pragmatism and ethics? Are the Númenoreans friends or not? Should they be trying to do anything to stop Númenorean empire? Can they do anything? Does benefitting from Númenorean military might while not doing anything make them complicit? Do they try to talk to the Númenoreans? And for Elrond in particular, on top of the moral vs pragmatic concerns, there’s the knowledge that it’s his brother’s descendents and successors who are doing this - in a sense, the only family he has left.)

And lastly, of course, we have Ar-Pharazon, who defeats Sauron but without being any better than Sauron, and who is corrupted by him, wreaks devastation on the men of Middle-earth and on his political opponents at home, and leads Númenor to its destruction.

It feels like this reinforces the themes of The Lord of the Rings, that victory over evil is not one by seeking to overpower it, but by renunciation of power. The downfall of Númenor highlights this by contrast by showing the corrupting force of accumulated imperial power, even when used against a foe that is genuinely evil.

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

Its a funny thought to wonder how a Finwion Custody Battle over Gil-Galad would go, but consider; everyday elves keep trying to make Gil-Galad king again.

Gil-Galad is dodging various crowns left and right. The die-hard feanorians see that the king who reluctantly took them in after mae&mags died is back and immediately try to swear allegiance anew while Feanor and his sons are on probation (to Elrond’s delight, the little shit). Gil-Galad makes an inspirational speech about the inherent danger of Oaths (think; TedTalk). Unfortunately, that only makes him look more kingly and they might as well have sweared anyway.

All the lords of Gondolin are either trying to remain in Retirement or don’t have enough reputation points. Turgon is distracted with his reembodied wife and rebuilding Gondolin anew. So the Gondolindrim elves keep trying to make Gil-Galad their representative in Finarfin’s high court since he’s obviously of Nolofinwion heritage. Gil-Galad dodges that Kingly Position only because he makes a petition for Egalmoth to become the new head advisor and official representative of Gondolin in Valinor in Turgon’s stead.

The Doriathrim have their own king back (all hail Thingol and his weird tree wife). But they still wanna give back to the king that took them in as refugees. So the Doriathrim try to elect and sell Gil-Galad’s reputation to Thingol. Gil-Galad almost becomes a part of Thingol’s court as a highly-respected advisor and steward. He doesn’t only becomes he throws Elrond to the wolves and books It before the Doriathrim aren’t distracted by their strange, distant prince suddenly appearing.

Even the Avari get in on it as some point. They try to elect Gil-Galad their Noldoran representative in Valinor for all the tribes because he always treated them fairly in Middle-Earth, he doesn’t treat them as second-class citizens, and he doesn’t treat them like savage idiots. Unfortunately, that’s basically being High King of The Avari. Gil-Galad escapes this crown by honorably (panickingly) saying that an elven race should have their own leader from their own people. He encourages the Avari to represent themselves and face discrimination with their heads held high. Gil-Galad doesn’t become king but the Avari see him as a king in his own right nonetheless (which he pretends to not notice).

Anyway, the entire premise is that the universe keeps trying to make Gil-Galad a king or king-adjustant. but Gil keeps dodging every crown and sleeping in Elrond's guestroom (or the couch, during the Doriath Incident)

The end result is that every elven race ends up seeing him as a king anyway, even without people actively, publicly following him.

(Of course, the Feanorians follow him discreetly, but Gil-Galad won’t make a fuss as long as they are quiet about it.)

He thinks the Feanorians will abandon him when Feanor & Co’s probation ends. He is wrong, and Gil-Galad becomes an ambassador for the Feanorian Faction, to Elrond’s delight (little shit).

[youareunbearable]

Thinking about the Nauglamir, as one does, and just, like I know I have a bias as an Indigenous woman who's historical artifacts are often stolen and who's peoples' treaties and promises are typically disregarded by other authority figures and whose ancestors were treated like animals and hunted for sport but God Thingol fucking sucks in that tale (and in general)

Like I've always kinda disliked Thingol, gives off major White Settler vibes but this whole tale is so tragic when you look at it through an Indigenous lens

We start off with a friendship. Good old Finrod Badger man himself, hears about his cousin Caranthir doing business with a new type of people that Love Gems just like the Noldor! Hes Thrilled!! He meets with the people, Dwarves, and while they are a lot shorter and got more hair than the Men he met, they become fast friends.

He talks about his travels and mentions that he fell in love with the art style of Thingol's domain. The Dwarves are uneasy, cause they have bad history with Thingol's people, but inform Finrod that Actually We Made That. Finrod is Over The Moon and commissions them to make one for him too. As a show of faith, they allow him to build it on a mountain that has history to them and Finrod, you know he would be, is respectful of this and pays them their due and more through Elf goods and more trade then they normally would have

Nargothrond is done and Finrod is super impressed with their skills and commissions them again. This time, to make a necklace of the gems he personally carried over from Valinor. The Dwarves would understand the importance of these gems, they're literally Family Jewels and one of the only things Finrod has left of his homeland

So the Nauglamir is made. From Noldor gems and Dwarvish skill and shared friendship and memories of both parties. Its an agreement, a contract, a visual showcase of the friendship and alliance between the Dwarves and the Noldor.

(My people did this to. We made visual agreements. Wampum belts. Each shell bead took 1 whole day of hard labour to make and these belts had hundreds of them. They're symbolic and important as well as a beautiful showcase of skill and craftsmanship. They are almost always made between friendly nations)

Then we have Azaghal. Who was saved by Maedhros and had a great friendship with him. They exchanged gifts, worked together on an alliance, and probably traded tales with each other. Azaghal and his people would have known why the Noldor are here in Beleriand. They would have known the importance of the Silmarils to the Noldor, to the Feanorians especially. They could avenge their fallen kings, stop the evil from spreading, complete their Oath, and go home. Azaghal was even willing to give up his life, and the lives of his men, to help Maedhros get a Silmarils back.

Finrod is dead. The Noldor are weak and scattered. Maedhros is displaced from his home in Himring, and all the gossip they hear about him is that he's a shell of the Elf he used to be before the Noldor High King died.

A group of Dwarves are ordered to come to Doriath on Thingol's behalf. "Add this gem to this necklace" theyre told. Its a beautiful necklace. Its a beautiful gem. They start to do as they are told but things aren't sitting right with the Dwarven smiths. An older one notices first.

On the necklace with the beautiful and feather light gems, they notice a little sigil on the clasp. Its a Dwarven Smith sigil. They know the only work that smith did with Elven gems was Finrod’s Nauglamir. The smiths whisper amongst themselves in a frantic hiss. Why would the king of the Sindar Elves, one who has vocally stated his dislike and distrust of the Noldor, have Finrod’s necklace that THEY made for him out of friendship?

They turn to the strange gem they've been told to set within the Nauglamir. Its brilliant, beautiful, and glows with an inner light that is so very Elvish. One smith mentions the tale of Finrod, how he died helping Beren and Luthien get a Silmaril. The same Silmaril that the Noldor, and the Feanorians, need. The one their kings died to help them get.

One of the Dwarves feels sick. These are stolen goods. Goods literally taken from a grave and from their allies enemy and given to another that literally wouldn't even spit on them when they burned. Thingol cannot have these goods, from the perspective of the Dwarves, they aren't his. The Silmaril, well, maybe you could make an argument, but the Nauglamir? No way, it was stolen from a literal graveyard of a Noldor city and the person who gave it to him had no right or claim to it ever.

So the Dwarves tell him this. And Thingol is furious. He says, and I quote: "How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by waters of Cuivienen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?" And goes nuts. He's throwing out slurs, he's trying to pull a Karen, definitely claiming Manifest Destiny which is so wild and kicks them out without even paying for their labour. For their craft, their skill, their time. He doesn't acknowledge the unwritten treaty of friendship by completing this craft of unimaginable skill.

So they take it back. Sure Thingol died, but he is a thrice over thief at this point and no friend of the Dwarves or their allies.

Then Mr vegan "ill never harm or eat a living being" murders all the Dwarves that are trying to go back home with their rightful due. But what would Beren know about that anyways, he clearly has no head or mind about whats right or wrong as he himself finds it easy to cash in a favour from a king not to help resettle his displaced people, but to ask this king to sacrifice his own men and life to help him get married.

When Doriath is sacked by the Feanorians, oh I bet the Dwarves were pleased. I bet some of them even joined, what with being allies of the Noldor and all. The Dwarves hate the Elves, but not the Noldor who were loyal and trustworthy friends. Who paid and honored their skills and craft, who were cheated by the Sindar just as much as they were. Who fought and bled and died fighting evil while the Sindar stayed behind in their girdle

It was Silverfist Celebrimbor himself, a Noldor and a Feanorian who continued with their relationship. Who gave them rings of power to solidify that relationship. Shame he was betrayed, be he didn't mean harm.

By the third age its a shame the Noldor are the smaller group of Elves in middle earth. They would have helped Durin’s Folk more. The Elves and Dwarves might of had a better relationship. I'm sure Elrond tried, and some Dwarves were warmer to him on account of being adopted sons of Maedhros and Maglor. Buts hes also Thingol's blood, and that is a blood memory type of mistrust.

[elladanns]

Willow: Prologue

The one where the Princess of the Noldor falls in love with the Herald of The High-King.

Elrond x Original Female Character

(With a few other Original Characters throughout)

Content Warning: Mature Themes (Violence, Potential Future Smut, Language, Sexual Themes)

“Elrond, this is my daughter Princess Elanor.” Gil-Galad gestured to the shorter woman, well at least shorter than him, that stood beside him.

Her dark hair was pinned back in a long braid that was tied off with a single ornate gold band just below her waist. The blue and gold gown that fit perfectly around her body shimmered in the little bits of sunlight that peaked through the trees. There was one thing, though, that stood out to him. Her circlet of gold and sapphires sat slightly crooked as if she had hastily shoved it on her head before this meeting.

“Elanor, this is Elrond. My new herald.”

She looked up timidly, before looking down at her hands once more.

Her eyes were the brightest shade of blue Elrond had ever seen. Almost uncannily bright, with an intense stare that stuck in his mind even though he had only met her gaze for a mere second.

Elanor’s cheeks flushed under the gaze of the young ellon who her father had just introduced her to.

“Father, may I take my leave now?” Her voice was soft as she looked up at the High-King, who’s demeanor changed from a King to simply a father in an instant when looking at his only daughter.

“Yes, Élaré.” Gil-Galad sighed, “You may go.”

“She did not seem to like me much.” Elrond noted to Galadriel, who had been sitting at the table in her study, looking over some books.

“Elanor keeps to herself, try not to be insulted.” She sighed, “She really only speaks to her father.”

Elrond was silent, a smile stretching across his face at the memory of the blue-eyed elleth and her intense piercing stare that lasted all but a moment.

“What is that look for?” Galadriel watched him curiously, a twinkle in her eye, before she bit back a laugh in realization, “You think she's beautiful, do you not?”

“It would be impossible not to.” The younger ellon replied with a shrug, “However, her father would likely not allow it.”

“You should be more concerned about whether or not Elanor will speak to you long enough to allow it.” The Commander smirked, “She is not very keen to speak to outsiders. Though, I did catch her entering the library after your meeting,” her smirk only widened, “and I will say this. I have never seen her blush to that degree before.”

“Princess, the High-King is outside your door wishing to speak with you.” Her handmaiden, Calenwen, spoke softly, holding the door open a mere crack, just enough for her to speak into the room, “May I send him in?”

“You may.” Her voice was even, not bothering to look up.

“Daughter.” Gil-Galad sighed as he entered her chambers, hands folded in front of him.

“Father.” She looked up from her hair, watching him in the mirror.

“How do you feel about my new herald?” Her father watched her undo the long braid that her hair was in, gently combing out the brown strands.

“That is quite the random question.” She looked down, continuing to unweave the braid.

“He seems quite taken with you,” The High-King shrugged, “that is why I ask.”

“He seems kind enough.” She began to brush out her hair, “I never saw him as taken with me.”

“Because you have never spoken to him. You have only been introduced to him once.” Her father shot her a look, to which she caught in the mirror, causing her to turn around a scowl on her face.

“Father, I am perfectly fine keeping to myself-”

“I cannot convince you to have a conversation with him, but would having a friend hurt?” He pressed, “Your mother would not want you to be alone in this world forever.”

Elanor’s brow furrowed as she sighed. Her father had not truly spoken of her mother since she had left to sail back to Valinor by the order of her own father. Nor had he ever explained why she had left, “You never speak of mother which is why I did not think of her wishes for me.”

Gil-Galad’s jaw clenched as he thought for a moment, “Your mother was… Your mother is…” He nodded, thinking for another moment, “an extraordinary being. Who, like many others,” The High-King’s voice was hesitant and even, “had to obey her father when he summoned her home.”

“Who was she?” Elanor’s lips were pursed, “Father, you cannot keep it from me any longer, I deserve to know.”

“You were given one of her names, a name the Ñoldor called her. Valaron. Of the Valar.” Their eyes met for a moment, “A Valar walking among the Eldar. That is who she was.”

“What am I?” Her voice was soft, “Ada, what am I?”

“I do not know, Elanor.”

The Princess’ face fell, “You do not know?”

He nodded, “I truly do not know.”

“What do you mean you do not know?” She stood quickly, face filled with confusion, “How do you, my father, not know?”

“I can only tell you my assumptions. Your mother… Elemmírë is of Valar blood. Your eyes are her’s. And sometimes, you almost… You remind me of the light that would pour from her. The very same light from Valinor is in both her blood and your own.” He took her hands, “It is not hard to assume what you are, but if you wish,” The High-King sighed, “I will try and find any answer you need me to find. But in the meantime, my point still stands. You do need a friend, Elanor.”

Little did Elanor know that this simple task would become quite the hassle. As Elrond, though well liked and well respected, was not the most tactful ellon. Or at least, not with her.

It was well known to Elanor’s servants and handmaidens that she was quite fond of late night swims. However, no one had cared to inform Elrond of that fact.

Which is what led to the very predicament that he, and the Princess, found themselves in.

“Princess Elanor-” Elrond's face was as red as it could possibly get as he covered his eyes.

“Turn around!” She hissed, quickly submerging herself in the water, “You should have made yourself known!”

“Princess, we are in the middle of the woods-”

“I am nearly naked, Elrond!”

Elrond froze, blinking a few times. That was the first time Elanor had ever said his name, “What happened to Herald?” He asked, deciding in that very moment to play her game.

“Would you prefer that to your name?” Elanor huffed, a frustrated look on her face that Elrond, thankfully, could not see.

The Herald heard the sloshing of water followed by the damp sounds of droplets falling from her dress and hair, “I would prefer Elrond.”

She rung out her hair, then her dress, cheeks red from embarrassment, “I would have preferred you not stumbling across this grove.” She muttered, wrapping the large towel around her body, before walking right past him, "Especially not at this very moment, of all times."

“Princess, wait-” Elrond moved to follow her, rushing after the sopping wet and still very disgruntled elleth.

“No, I am not dealing with this mess right now.” She continued walking, “And do not speak a word of this to anyone, Herald Elrond.”

Elrond stopped walking, a breathy laugh escaping him. He quite liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips.

“Now she won't look at me.” Elrond shook his head, rubbing his temples.

“This is quite funny, Elrond, you do have to admit,” Galadriel let out a laugh, leaning back in her chair, “as everyone here does know that the Princess takes almost nightly swims in the pond and even the Gulf of Lune.”

“And why was I not made aware?”

Galadriel shrugged, “I suppose no one found it to be of relevance. If this plagues you so, then perhaps I am not the right person to be asking these questions to.”

Elrond scoffed, “You cannot mean-”

Galadriel pursed her lips, “I mean that you should speak with her father.”

“And tell him what, Galadriel? That I, his Herald, saw his daughter, the Princess, swimming almost naked in the pond?”

“At least… it was almost naked.” Galadriel offered as a smile that verged on a grimace on her face.

Elrond paced in front of the large wooden door, exhaling slowly before knocking.

"Enter." The commanding, and quite frankly, intimidating voice of the High-King called from inside.

Elrond cautiously opened the door, quickly closing it behind him. He had to speak before his nerves managed to get the better of him. Before they could turn him into a floundering stuttering mess, “High King-”

“I presume you are here about Elanor.” Gil-Galad looked up from the scrolls on his desk, a bored yet expectant look in his eyes, “Sit.”

Elrond knew better than to refuse the offer, sitting in the wooden chair that clearly had only been placed there for Elanor.

“I encouraged my daughter to pursue a friendship with you, and I assume,” He placed his pen in its inkwell, leaning back in his chair, “something happened. Do tell.”

Elrond was silent.

"Go on." Gil-Galad's voice was more commanding this time, words spoken through gritted teeth, a hint of irritation in his tone.

“I… do not know how to approach her after-”

“You saw her in the pond.” He sighed, “Elanor is no different than her mother. Elemmírë was always more used to Arda than here… Her own private little world that existed with gardens she could do as she pleased in. And Elanor is no different. The warmth of the Valar and the light of Arda exist within her very bones.”

“High-King, might I ask… how does one… have a conversation with Elanor?”

“What do you mean?”

“She seldom holds a conversation.”

“My daughter is shy. Illusive. Wary of anyone she has not known most of her life. Rightfully so. Outsiders can be dangerous.” Gil-Galad sighed, “However, you are not dangerous. And you must prove that to her.”

“How?”

“Well, she loves poetry,” The High King thought for a moment, a faint smile, that anyone who did not know him well would have missed, appeared on his face, “books… You could even imply that you could defeat her in a spar… you will lose, but she will find it amusing. Excruciatingly long walks in the gardens, swimming in the pond or river, which you are quite familiar with…”

Elrond nodded, “Thank you.”

Elanor let out a groan as she tugged on the brush that was stuck in her hair, an un-ladylike curse leaving her lips.

To be completely honest, it was her fault that the large knot in her hair existed. And it was also her fault that her silver hairbrush was thoroughly stuck in her hair.

A knock at her door stopped the princess’ angry tugging and pulling, “At this hour?” She scoffed, storming to the door, flinging it open, “Who-”

Elanor blinked at the sight of Elrond, stood in her doorway, his brow furrowed as he took immediate notice of the hairbrush stuck in her hair.

An awkward silence fell between them as Elanor’s confused face took in his nervous one.

“I am sorry for intruding I just-”

“It's alright, I am just a bit,” She gestured to her hair, “stuck…”

“I could,” He cleared his throat nervously as he gestured to the stuck brush, “help… if that would… make you less… irritated.”

Elanor blinked a few times before nodding, stepping aside to allow the man into her chambers.

Elrond had never seen a room so… exquisite in his life. It was always clear that Gil-Galad’s priority- above all else- was his daughter. There were times where Elrond firmly believed that Elanor was the only other living being that the High King truly cared about.

Elanor closed the door behind them, “You can… place your books here.” She gestured to her small side table, “I am sorry I disrupted whatever you were sent here to tell me…”

“Actually,” He followed her to her vanity, where she sat with a huff, “I brought those for you.”

“Really?” She asked, looking at him from her vanity mirror.

Elrond nodded, gesturing to her hair, “May I?”

“Yes.” She replied, “Just… be gentle.”

“I wouldn't be anything else.” His smile was small as he touched her soft brown hair, “Do you have a comb?”

She nodded, handing him the delicate piece of wood.

His touch was gentle as he used the comb to pull strands of her hair loose from the brush, “How did you manage this, Princess?”

“I suppose keeping my hair out of its braid all day was not the smartest choice.” She mumbled, watching him closely in the mirror. His face was deep in concentration, brows furrowed so hard that small lines began to form between them, “Relax, Elrond, it is not that serious of a matter. You will surely give yourself a headache.”

“I do not wish to-”

“Relax.” She repeated, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Her gaze, while still piercing, was much kinder. Elrond did not know who to thank for her change in behavior.

Careful hands continued to work through the knots in her hair, his face telling her that he had calmed down significantly as he worked. And for a moment, Elanor could have sworn he looked handsome.

“I never expected you to be so… good with things like this.” She whispered as he handed her the brush that was stuck in her hair for hours, “I… often just tug.”

“Truth be told, I just wanted to… spend longer than a few moments with you.”

Elanor turned around, her brow furrowed as she looked up at him, “What do you mean?”

“That I wish to spend time with you, Princess.”

Elanor thought for a moment, “But… why?”

He knelt down, taking her soft hands in his own rougher ones, “Because I thought I might enjoy your company.”

“Did my father put you up to this?”

“What?” Elrond shook his head, “No, Elanor. I put myself up to this…. You… simply being you put me up to this.”

[winterpinetrees]

Okay yeah I’m still thinking about logistics. I am aware that lord of the rings is whimsical and I don’t care.

There must be so many people in Rivendell. It’s the Last Homely House, the last decent place before you go off into the deep wilderness. It’s at the bottom of a valley in the middle of nowhere. They aren’t getting everything imported. Elrond must have a full sized settlement there to produce most of the food, even if we are assuming that preserving magic makes it an easy place to live. Rivendell is a refuge too. It’s home to Elrond, his family, a significant number of Noldor like Glorfindel, and who knows how many wanderers. Elves don’t die of old age, and in the Third Age they don’t get murdered particularly often either, so I have to imagine that the population is large and just keeps growing. I don’t get the sense that many travel across the sea until after Sauron falls, and there really isn’t anywhere else for them to go. Lothlorien, maybe? There’s got to be thousands of people in that valley, supporting the Last Homely House and keeping the forces of darkness at bay.

More than that, it’s a huge place fit for the most powerful people in Middle Earth. Rivendell can easily accommodate Bilbo’s entire party in the hobbit and all of the visiting diplomats for the Council of Elrond. Do you have any idea how much manpower (elf power?) it takes to keep a place clean, well-lit, and functional without modern technology? It takes an absurd amount of work. There is nothing in the legendarium that I’m aware of to suggest that elves use magic as a labor saving tool. That means that people are doing all of that work by hand.

Are there elven servants in Rivendell? What about in Valinor? In the Silmarillion, we only ever really read about noble bloodlines, and in LoTR, elves are kept very mysterious. There’s craftsmen who make silmarils and magic rings, but who is forging gear for the average soldier? We know that there are a whole lot of average soldiers. Lord of the rings is a story of battles between armies. Is there upward mobility in an undying land? Whoever is cleaning clothes in Valinor, have they been doing that since the age of the two trees?

Maybe Valinor is more equal than that. Maybe in a place where everyone expects to live forever, they’ve found ways to share the load. But they did have a high king, long ago, and Feanor uses the argument that the elves should go to Beleriand to find freedom and treasure. He’s not a reliable narrator, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about.

What must it be like to be one of the other Noldor? To be a common elf and go east seeking freedom and adventure, only to find suffering like you cannot imagine? To watch that land sink beneath the ocean, to see Numenor be corrupted and fall, to fight Morgoth and Sauron and Sauron again? To finally leave it all behind as everything, even Rivendell and Lindon and Lothlorien, fades? Or maybe you die in combat and spend an eon in the halls of Mandos before reawakening in Valinor. Either way, you’re back!

And someone needs to do the laundry.

[sesamenom]

ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree

-

and we're back! Now that the gates of the Halls have been opened, a whole bunch of former high kings have shown up in finarfin's backyard...

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 17: more B&L

And more fourth wall, and therefore more Pengolodh.

TW: Some musings about what exactly Morgoth wanted to do with Luthien, but vague and rather silly.

Sauron, like everyone there knew Huan's "die on greatest wolf" prophecy. Where from???

Luthien faints! She's not that OP. Her cloak dazes Sauron and Huan saves the day. She takes the island, Sauron flees and doesn't notice Gondolin (I guess Ulmo did his mist thing).

Luthien says that she claims the island and the island replies! The magic goes away and it all crumbles (described in a very awesome way) and the ex-prisoners are in shock (who wouldn't?).

Luthien faints at the fainted Beren, because she thinks he's dead. Of all the books you had to reference Romeo and Juliet? Professor… It's a parody more than a serious thing. And it's so… But ok, maybe that's the point. Maybe the point is that of course B&L don't harm themselves because they have a functioning braincell. And estel. Not necessarily in this order.

Also, we get the note that Finrod is already with his father in Valinor. When? When is this written? I guess the only way to get this info back from Valinor to ME would be the War of Wrath, or maaaybe Gandalf told Elrond. But Gandalf barely remembered anything, so more like War of Wrath. Or Galadriel saw him in the mirror and she told Elrond who added this to the book. This would make sense.

Do we have any info on "Finrod got reembodied quickly" except this line above + fanon?

Nargothrond rebels against C&C and Orodreth becomes king. He doesn't kill them because he is afraid of getting more Doom of Mandos. This… isn't a very moral attitude. Well, at least he doesn't kill them.

Also, Celebrimbor disowns his dad. Or at least his dad's deeds.

Beren, against his better judgment, tries to leave Luthien in safety but she tells him it doesn't work this way.

They fight C&C. Luthien forbids Beren to kill Curufin. Which is great of her. (I wonder what she'd say about Celegorm, but probably the same.)

Curufin curses Beren. "Taking the sky and clouds as his witness" – I guess he is too afraid / too ashamed to mention the Valar. :þ He wishes Beren a painful death, soon. Which …kind of works?

Celegorm tbh doesn't do much in here. He does fight Beren, but Curufin seems to be the boss.

Beren is desperate, leaves alone, sings, Luthien (who was searching for him because no, she won't let him go on the quest alone) sings back. Again. It's not a full rescue, but still, it is the song thing again.

Description of Thuringwethil, who is just a large bat with iron (liteerally? metaphorically?) talons. And Sauron's mail-lady. Mail-monster? Sadly, we don't get an info on who killed her.

Beren curses his promise to Thingol, Huan lectures him, gives him a sort of prophecy and leaves. Why is everyone cursing things all the time?

Morgoth also knows what Huan's fate is (Everyone knows it. How? Did Celegorm gloat about it?), also, more info on how werewolves are made. So, Carcaroth.

Luthien gets a burst of Maiarin powers (because fate, plot and all. Yes. I know. But this is the genre.)

We got an absolute metal description of Morgoth's throne room: "his nethermost hall that was upheld by horror, lit by fire, and filled with weapons of death and torment". Upheld by horror. This is just peak description. (as long as it's sparse and the rest of description is actual description. Yes, HPL, I am looking at you) unspeakably

Morgoth, umm, reacts in a similar way as Celegorm, and we're told that it was the wickest idea he got since he escaped from Valinor. Which:

I respect Tolkien for putting it so high on the wickedness meter

Does the "since he escaped" addition mean that killing the Trees was more wicked??? Sorry, I'm not buying it. Depraving the Elves? Hmm. Making orcs was more wicked in my opinion (in the "from broken Elves" theory), and he indeed invented it before the whole imprisonment in Valinor, so I would like to assume this is what the narration means, but I somehow doubt it.

Please don't tell me that indirectly giving Feanor bad ideas was somehow more wicked than this. :|

Also, him and the Men… but that is vaguely canon and anyway Pengolodh said himself that he doesn't know what happenned, so this doesn't count. Because if it counted, this "most wicked" would be false.

And of course it turns against him. He gets blinded, everyone else falls asleep, the Silmarils glow brighter (reacting to Luthien?).

Out of the blue, we now get a quite sympathetic description of Morgoth being so tired and terrified and worried and …. see, Jirt, that's why. That's why I can't read him as you would like me to. Seriously. If you don't want me to have compassion for the guy, do not show him as emotionally vulnerable. Seriously. [Unless it is the translation again]

Yea, I could blame this on narrative frame (which goes on and off, in one paragraph he doesn't know things, and in the other he almost knows what Morgoth's inner emotional state is) and say that Pengolodh made it up… except it's very much a kind of thing he would not make up, rather cut out… I would have to assume some other author or editor added this for some reasons… If I were to guess, this very much sounds like something Luthien would say when telling this story. (Which tells us a lot about her)

Anyway: book, what are you doing?

And Luthien puts Morgoth to sleep (which is an achievement!!!), "as black as the Outer Void where he once wandered alone". Jirt. Seriously. Stop giving me ammunition to like him. I almost wish I had more normal reactions and, idk, assumed more details on what he planned about Luthien or anything that would allow me to read it closer to the authorial intent. (Because with how cautiously you worded it, it might have as well been planning to propose to her and make her a dark queen, Haladriel-style, but cooler. And from a book that says "corrupting Fefe was one of the worst" I could assume this would be still called "wickedest since fefe". I know that's not what you mean, but I wish I could internalize it more.)

My brain is not braining properly. (Also I can't learn to not mistake "wonder" and "wander" every once in a while. I blame it on that one song from RoP. Which is almost as uneven in quality in my eyes as this chapter.)

At least, we get a description of how the Silmarils were set in the crown. (Also, my drawing was wrong, because Morgoth falls face-down.)

Beren takes the Silmaril and it glows through his flesh like in a lantern (White or red? Seems more like white, but red often works better with fanart.)

Luthien is out of spell points tired, Beren tries to use the Silmaril on Carcaroth, saying "this is the fire that will destroy you and all the evil creatures" which I think is quite stupid, so Carcaroth promptly bites off his hand, chomps the Silmaril and runs away because he's in pain.

"Stupid but well-intentioned thing doesn't work but gets the result anyway" is a trope I like, but sadly in Legendarium it is terribly rare. Again, B&L have a different genre than the Feanorians. :(

Another "the most X to ever X": Carcaroth's rage is the most terrible thing to happen to Beleriand (before the War of Wrath). OK, I can believe this, I think.

Eagles! They should really have a tagline about providing eucatastrophes. It's their main job.

Morgoth is probably awake, because volcano and lightnings are striking from the gound (lightning seems to be his thing, and thunderstorms in general too).

Luthien (in contrast to Sauron) can see Gondolin down below and it gets a beautiful (but short) description. Also, she'd rather wander aimlessly with Beren because she is so happy, but he remembers that he gave his word, also Thingol deserves to see his daughter, despite all his problematic behavior. Beren is so kind.

We get a lot of information from Luthien's PoV in this story, more than Beren's, which confirms to me that in-world, this is derived from Thingol's retellings of their story, and Luthien told him more than Beren did. Also, he was unconcious in many important moments.

Also, we get a note that it's bad to ignore father's opinion, "unless in extreme situation" which sounds quite feminist to me, considering Tolkien's times and the genre.

Meanwhile in Doriath:

Daeron left Doriath to be sad for Luthien's disappearance (we aren't told if he even learned that she returned with Beren). Well, he did snitch on her twice. :þ Also, we are reminded that "he was considered better even than Maglor". :Þ

Thingol is mad at Celegorm (for the "let me marry Luthien pls" letter + probably for Finrod's death), he'd like to attack all Feanorians, but can't, so he writes to Maedhros demanding help in finding Luthien, but the letter gets eaten by Carcaroth (probably. Definitely doesn't reach its destination) so we don't know what Maedhros would do.

[I think: berate Celegorm, agree to help with Luthien and demand the Silmaril for it. Which… Thingol may have agreed to tbh. He cared for Luthien more. So, maybe if it wasn't for Carcaroth things would be better. Even for Celegorm. There's a fic potential in here.]

Oh, here is Mablung. He will be in CoH too, I think.

Thingol is still not a fan of Beren. Until the hand pun. Absolutely realistic father-in-law behavior. :D I love the genre whiplash.

And the narrative tells us that Luthien's love is a feeling unknown before and all the powers of Arda cannot stop B&L's fate. I'm not a fan of this sentence, it makes me cringe a bit. Did I mention that I dislike romance as a genre?

Anyway Thingol ok-s it and they get married.

Hunt for Carcaroth. The way in which Mablung takes the Silmaril gives me a vague Arthurian (Grail) vibe, but I'm not sure. It is weird and the disappearing hand seems the medieval sort of weird?

Beren dies, Luthien … It doesn't say explicitely that she died of grief. I would prefer to believe that it was more like her Maiarin instinct… she went to Mandos, because she had a business there.

Also. Men after their death sail from the dark shores of the Outer Sea — what? That is so cool. And who runs the port there, who has a house on the very edge? Nienna! This is just so fascinating. Early-Legendarium-like but in the best way.

Luthien sings the most beautiful song that has been made. OK, I can buy that. And, says Pengolodh, there wasn't, nor will ever be a saddest song. My guy, you would sound wiser if you stopped saying what will be and what will not be, you are not Namo. But anyway, her song is beautiful and very, very sad.

This song is so amazing that it's still sang in Valinor, without any change, and the Valar are sad. that is… interesting to explore. It is about Men and Elves and even Namo is sad… yes, I am definitely getting ideas. Which may be explored some day. Or not.

I wonder whether we get the words of it in the Lay... No, the Lay doesn't go this far. I therefore will assume that it starts with "the stars have faded" or something similar, like we have described Luthien's grief in the chapter: "the starlight was quenched and darkness had fallen even upon Lúthien Tinúviel"

B&L say their goodbyes, Namo is so moved that he goes to Manwe, Manwe goes to (metaphorically; mentally in his deepest mind) Iluvatar, Luthien gets a choice.

And the invitation to forget Beren and live among the Valar… I'm not sure what is the exact deal here? Is she offered just a normal Elven Valinorean deal or to make her a full-on Maia? Because it kind of sounds like this. And… why not? The word "impossible" got yeeted out the window anyway (I love such situations, of course I do, I love the insane out-of-the-box-ness as Mairon loved order and efficiency, but hopefully the other way around ie.: it is a problem first and not last).

Anyway we don't know what exactly was the first option, because she choses Beren (I really like to think it was less about "romance means so much to me, I am not complete without my man" and more about "it feels like a beautiful idea (and I do love him and forgetting it sounds cheap and too easy)" but … have I mentioned I don't like romance as a genre?)

Luthien was the only Elda to truely die… Yep. Hold our beers and behold our fics. (Or maybe it is just my optics that Elves going "because Luthien made a precedent" is a fic staple? Anyway this makes too much sense to not use it.)

Yes, she's the only one in the canon. She died and it's sad. But we got half-Elves which is cool. Also, and we got a teaser for Elrond and Arwen:

"Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, though all the world is changed, the likeness of Lúthien the beloved, whom they have lost."

Also, poor Elrond. This paragraph shows us how he is seen by other Eldar. First and foremost as a memory of a long-lost legend. :(

I feel like I missed some of the cool parts, but nevermind. TLDR: Luthien cool, narrative frame inconsistent.

[lady-raidia]

Hi my fellow german ♡

If you're up to, I'd love to request a Gil-Galad x reader writing (: I'm so sad that there is still not much out there. Something fluffy like love at first sight or first kiss (or both haha)

Thank you so much in advance!♡

Hey there! 💗 I am so sorry that you had to wait such a long time for me to respond! :( I was suffering from a writers block and I couldn't write anything for months :'( But I am back and I am trying to catch up! I hope that you enjoy this One-Shot (or maybe two shot hehe) even though it ended up a little bit shorter than I wanted to. But I will try to write a part 2 for this one, so we can have more Gil-Galad content hehe. Again, I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time! And I am sorry if my english sounds weird in the story :o But please enjoy! 💗💗

FOREST HEART - GIL-GALAD IMAGINE

Pairing: Gil-Galad x Reader

Summary: You are an old friend of Galadriel and visit her in Lindon, where you wander off into the forest. You just wanted to enjoy the nature but you found a hidden treasure that will change your life.

Warnings: None, just some Gil, snobby language and bad english.

Request Here / Masterlist

Nestled amidst ancient trees and shimmering waters, you have lived a life full of peace and harmony. You had chosen this life, far from Lindon, to escape the gossip and side-eyes you would get when passing by other elves who knew you were not like them. Your father was an elf, but your mother was of the race of men. She was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen but the fragility of a mortal life took her away from you. After her passing, your father followed her into death, since his heart couldn't bear the grief and loss it had suffered.

You grew up in a small cottage close to Lindon, the place your mother and her mother were born and raised. It was your sanctuary, your haven, and as a child, you thought Valinor must have looked exactly like your home. Even after your parents passed away you stayed at that small cottage to care for the garden your mother cherished so much.

Even though you lived your life far from others, you still had close friends you have known since childhood. One of them was Galadriel and you would refer to her as your best friend. You held her dear in your heart and even though you hadn't seen each other for centuries, you regularly wrote letters to each other. You would usually write about how your garden is growing and that the birds are nesting again, while Galadriel would entertain you with the adventures she had been on. (If you can call it an adventure. She is trying to hunt down orcs to find Sauron and with each letter you get from her it becomes apparent that she is slowly losing her mind. You are worried for your friend because she seems too fixated on Sauron being still alive.)

A couple of days ago you received an invitation to Lindon to celebrate Galadriel and her troop for „freeing the world of all evil“. You were happy to hear that her efforts to hunt down every orc are finally being acknowledged! And you wouldn’t be her friend if you wouldn’t tend that celebrations! So with a mix of excitement, worries and nostalgia you went on the journey towards Lindon.

When you arrived, Galadriel greeted you with open arms and a radiant smile on her face! It must have been decades the last time you have seen each other. But before you could talk about old memories and laugh about the shenanigans you did when you were children, she introduced you to Elrond, the herald of the High King. He offered to guide you around since Galadriel had business to do and while he was giving you a small history lesson that wasn’t really anticipating, he also warned you to not get too deep into the forest. For someone who doesn’t know the woods very well it is easy to get lost in them. And the last thing Elrond wants is to lose you and having Galadriel yelling at him for not paying attention. You had to promise to not go on your own and to always stay in the city. And you really wanted to keep that promise. You really did.

The days before the celebration you tried to spend as much time with Galadriel as possible. But she still had some duties she had to attend to, so she would usually leave you alone in the evening. It is your third evening here in Lindon and you already wish to be back at your small cottage. Elves aren’t a noisy folk but still it seemed like their voices were yelling at you. All the people, the talking, the faint music in the distance - you weren’t used to it, so for that moment it was just too much for you. You needed a moment of silence and since you arrived in Lindon it seemed like the trees were talking to you. You remembered the promise you’ve made and said to yourself that you would only walk for a bit - not too far off, so you can easily find a way back. Also, you have the senses of an elf, so nothing could go wrong.

With a sense of childlike wonder, you ventured off the path that was before you and headed straight into the woods. The forest with its towering trees, vibrant flowers and singing birds, mesmerized you and you have totally forgotten the words of Elrond. With each step you take, you get further away from the city but closer to the calmness of your soul.

Lost in the magic of the moment, you failed to notice the sun slowly going down and being replaced by a soft darkness.

„Beautiful isn’t it?“ Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence of the trees, dragging you back to reality. Startled, you turned to find a men standing in front of you with a gentle smile on his face. His presence was both mysterious and comforting. You have seen his face before, many years ago, but you can’t remember who he was. Maybe a friend of your father?

„Indeed. While the soil here might look like any other forest, it is made of hope and wishes from those who have walked here before us." You spoke softly while maintaining your gaze on the man in front of you.

He came a few steps closer to you with a light smile on his face. „It has been a long time since someone recognized Lindon's beauty. Too many became used to its sight and stopped wondering what miracles it might hold.“ You listened carefully to his words and nodded „But it seems you are not from Lindon. Lost, perhaps?“

„Galadriel is a friend of mine, and I am not lost. My feet tend to carry me places where my heart wants to go but my thoughts are too afraid of.“ The man before opened his mouth to share his thoughts with you but was interrupted by the voice of Galadriel who came running towards you.

„Y/N you shouldn’t be here!“ She looked at you and then made eye contact with the dark-haired elf in front of you. „I apologize! Y/N is a visitor and a friend of mine, my king.“ You nearly tripped over a root when you heard your friend address that man as „my king“. The reason his face was so familiar is because he is the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad.

Galadriel drags you away from him before you have a chance to speak, scolding you for being so careless. You apologized to her several times and felt that by not addressing him by his title, you had offended the king. In fact, he felt no offense at all. The thought of your conversation still lingered in his mind as he watched you and Galadriel walk away. Whenever his shoulders are unable to bear the weight of the crown, he retreats into the forest to enjoy the silence. Usually, the elves of Lindon don’t go that far into the woods so he can be on his own. But today, you were carried deeper into the woods by your own feet without a care in the world. For a while, Gil-Galad watched you admire the flowers and trees while the last light of the setting sun was reflected in your eyes. He was in awe and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t have the courage to speak. But when darkness slowly reached out, he talked to you and he was immediately enchanted by your voice and words. He always thought that he had lost his heart in the woods but it seemed that you found it. Now it is up to you if you want to claim it for yourself.

To be continued 💗

@fenharel-enaste @starlady66 (I am back, I hope it is okay I tagged you guys again! :) )

[symphonyofsilence]

It's so strange that Fëanor's suspicion of how Fingolfin is trying to usurp him is usually dismissed as his paranoia and Melkor's baseless brainwashing when literally the first thing that happens after Finwë's death is that most of the Noldor decide to follow Fingolfin & name him as king, & Finarfin becomes the king of the Noldor in Valinor, & Fëanor is left with the smallest host among the brothers, to the point that Fëanor & Maedhros will later get outnumbered by Melkor and suffer defeats and Maedhros will have to abdicate in favor of Fingolfin to keep the Noldor united. (And at that point a lot of Fingolfin's followers had died on the ice. But they're still more than the Fëanorians.)

and even before Finwë's death, Fingolfin was ruling in his place in Tirion while Finwë & Fëanor were in exile. You might say that it's because of Fëanor's own actions, and yes, it was. But even though Fëanor's response was extreme, Fingofin was indeed there before Fëanor, talking behind his back to Finwë, & specifically telling Finwë that 'If thou dost not now repent of it, two sons at least thou hast to honour thy words.'

So it doesn't really seem like Fingolfin was just sharing his concern with Finwë & what happened after Fëanor's exile to Formenos & Finwë's death was just a self-fulfilling prophecy that Fëanor caused by his own action while Fingolfin had no interest in usurping him. And I don't think Fingolfon added Finwe before his name in pursuance of his claim to be King of the Noldor after his father's death was just in response to being abandoned on the ice by Fëanor, though I think it did play a great part in his decision to so openly claim Fëanor's place.

I think making Fingolfin less ambitious & without any political game of his own is actually a disservice to his character. He's a more complex character than he's usually given credit for. As I explained here, I think becoming a king was his way of inwardly seeking validation and filling the void that was left in him since childhood.

And we know that at least Maedhros was politically smart & more of a peacemaker. So maybe all of Fëanor's sons weren't always just following him like ducklings everywhere, without thinking of their own, or being completely brainwashed. Maybe something was going on against their father that they noticed, too. We know that "Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros". So Maedhros & Fingon broke up of their own accord. And they were very close. How can someone lie to you about your best friend, who you spend a lot of time with & leave little thing unsaid to each other, without any basis, and you believe it and even break up with them if you hadn't seen anything that even slightly ruffled your feathers & gave validation to the rumors?

We know that Nerdanel restrained Fëanor "when the fire of his heart burned too hot" but maybe it was less "your brother is not plotting against you" and more "pointing a sword at him in front of everyone in the parliament is not the way to go about it. Start your own political campaign".

And Indis naming Finarfin "Ingoldo" which means "THE Noldo" might have been in response to most of the Noldor not liking that their queen was a Vanya, and the fact that Finarfin was born blond, a very Vanya look, and Indis choosing to pronounce "th" as "s" despite already pronouncing it as "th" as a Vanya, while Fëanor insists that that was the correct pronunciation because Míriel insisted it is, might have again been Indis just trying to fit in among the Noldor, but Indis named Fingolfin "Arakano" which means "High Chieftain". And that trying to blend in with the Noldor obviously had a political side to it.

Could it be that all of these were just Indis trying to innocently make herself at home? And was she really a perfect mom to Fëanor who kept rejecting her affection?

I mean I don't think that she was downright an evil stepmother. I think she was nice to Fëanor, she really pitied him for being the only motherless child ever, and at such a young age, & did always try to win his favor, but that didn't stop her from seeking her own agenda for her sons.

Maybe we tend to make Indis more passive than she canonically was. Fëanor did notice his father showing Vanyarin behavior the more she was with Indis. & While I believe Finwë was a codependent and impressionable person, Indis might have also been actively influencing him. Or at least welcomed the changes in Finwë's behavior.

It might all be indeed innocent, but seeking to marry someone else's husband for the first time in history- because death doesn't do elves apart and Finwë & Míriel were still married when Finwë & Indis decided to marry- & by that condemning Míriel to stay dead forever because Indis has taken her place in her marriage while getting reincarnated is every elf's right doesn't sound to me like someone who is not willing to make moral compromises.

And It's very likely that after Finwë took Fëanor's side & went to exile with him when Fëanor raised his sword to Indis' son & Indis chose to stay in Tirion, things were broken between Indis & Finwë beyond repair. So Finwë choosing to stay in Mandos in Míriel's place forever didn't really surprise Indis. And even though it hurt very much, it didn't hurt as it once might have. After being proven that she would always be second to Míriel again & again, and for good the last time, it was clear to her that it would be Finwë's choice.

& Deep inside she thought that maybe she deserved it. And so did Finwë.

It hurt to be replaced.

And likewise, Fëanor vs Fingolfin incident might have also been the point of no return for Indis & Fëanor.

I headcanon that at Manwë's party to reconcile Fingolfin & Fëanor, it was the first time that Indis didn't smile at Fëanor, but looked coldly at him.

Finarfin has always seemed to me like someone who generally disliked this whole drama, and was not interested in ruling or politics and anything & was just there for Fingolfin's spiritual support. He probably spent most of his time with the Teleri, and like his brothers, he married young (it's not just a headcanon. He did marry young, according to NoME. I'll explain it in another post.) And mostly lived away from the drama. (when there's drama at home, all you gotta do is walk away-ay-ay)

But Fingolfin definitely had his ambition, and Indis might have had, too.

Another thing that Fëanor gets accused of Paranoia for, is that the Valar want his Silmarils.

...afer the Valar explicitly ask him for his Silmarils. And Tulkas claims that Fëanor doesn't even own them, & they're Yavanna's.

And later when one Silmaril is freed from Melkor, the only sailor that they allow inside Aman is Earendil who has the Silmaril. And then it's given to him to be used as almost the same way they wanted to use it when they asked Fëanor for them. This happens while Nerdanel, who would be Fëanor's heir & thus the rightful owner of that Silmaril is currently in Aman. And even if she doesn't want it, Findis, Finarfin & Finrod are there, too. Just because the Valar want everyone to enjoy the Silmarils' lights doesn't mean that they can forcefully take them away from their owners.

And later, the sons of Fëanor are again denied of their birthrights. Even if they couldn't touch them-which wasn't Eonwe's problem- Celebrimbor was still there.

So yeah, the Valar did want the Silmarils.

[skyeventide]

so, Feanor's exile to Formenos. if we look at it through the lens of some forms of old germanic laws, we see some interesting things. the ban, the expulsion from community, was a last resort: first, there was weregild (whereby you'd pay a sum to the offended party, proportionate to the offense/crime). if the offending party refused to pay the weregild, then the tribunal might resort to the ban. at times, when the weregild was particularly high, someone could be exiled until they could pay back the sum in full.

there's no mention of weregild in the assembly situation where the Valar listen to the Noldor and Feanor and trace everything back to Melkor, possibly because tolkien doesn't at all introduce the concept of wealth, money, or other forms of payment among Amanyar elves until they reach Beleriand. the only rules Mandos sets down are that a) Feanor needs to reflect on himself and who and what he is (really interesting wording right there) and b) the offended party (others) will release him. Feanor says absolutely nothing to this.

I find it deeply funny however that Mandos jumps straight to a ban. we can probably assume (also in line with germanic laws) that elven kings in Valinor would have some kind of judiciary authority to resolve dumb disputes etc (much as in Beleriand, which we actually see happen on page with Thingol and Turin after Saeros' death), and we can therefore probably assume that some form of, if not weregild, at least compensation in spirit, aimed at maintaining peace, existed. a gift, a verbal apology. Finwe holding himself "unkinged" over Feanor's ban seems to imply some form of protest regarding a passing over of his authority, which in turn implies that deciding for a ban would have been of his competence (nvm whether it would have happened or not)(it wouldn't have).

anyway the reason why it's funny is that, from this pov, Mandos pretty much was like he's never gonna pay that shit, let's cut to the chase please

[doodle-pops]

Tales of the Heart

Finarfin x mortal!reader

Request: Boyah!!! ♥️♥️ So happy requests re open!! ♥️ Could I please request Finarfin x human!reader? Perhaps after the final battle, he decides to see ME with his own eyes :') but he is a bit lost, the change it too much ! So the reader finds him and helps him thru his stay :") and sun fluffy romance!! 🤲♥️ — @noldorinpainter

A/N: When I say that I enjoyed writing this, I most absolutely did! This was my first official Finarfin request and it was so fluffy and sweet! Thank you for the request. I got to write a soft and flirty Finarfin and I was squealing. Thank you for increasing Finarfin content.

Warnings: none, nothing but absolute fluff and a flirty Finarfin shooting his shot

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: As the War of Wrath came to an end, Finarfin decided to explore the beauty of Middle Earth. Instead, he discovered another form of beauty, becoming enthralled.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The sound of streams rushing vigorously echoed to his right as his foot crossed a maple vine. Animals were scurrying across the forest floor the further he wandered into the forest. Though it was creepier than what he remembered during his childhood days in Valinor, it appeared much livelier now that the war was over, and the majority of the evil had fled.

The squawking and singing of birds overhead and in the canopy and buzzing of insects filled his head with safe sounds compared to the reoccurring sound of metal clashing. The melody was sweeter than the memories of the horrors of the great war. His said reason for escaping the confinements of the camp during nightfall left him to wander until the sun raised on him.

Anor’s rays were caught in his mess of golden ringlets which was designed into a messy bun with tresses still falling out—something to keep the humidity under control. Worrying about his troupes and the others was the least of his concerns; he wanted to explore the lands his father originated. The stories of fighting wild beasts—well that part was already explored—and travelling the distant lands, over the mountain and yonder filled his heart with exhilaration.

Making turns at all different angles and parts, following blinding trails and the forest beasts to wherever they may lead him, having a guide in this new land simply slipped the High King’s mind. His heart contained too much anticipation to learn what was around the river bend or above the canopy of the tallest tree. For a moment, he felt like his little boy when he was in his youthful years. Dragging and tugging at his arms to show him a mud puddle or spider forming its webs. Now he understood who and where Finrod's the enthusiasm resonated from.

Wandering for over twenty minutes, pushing himself deeper into the woods, the idea of handing his hand on the hilt of his sword was faint. All the evil was pushed back to the outer skirts of the land, surely he couldn’t have covered grounds that rapidly. However, he found his left hand sliding up his thigh to comfortably settle on the hilt of his sword. His grip was loose, easy to tighten in a flash if required, positive that the looming eerie sensation was no danger, but rather…uncommon. A concoction of excitement and curiosity overtook his body and urged him to walk forward, overstepping the squirrels that scurried about his feet.

What lay before him was an image he believed to only exist in a land like Araman, nowhere else had the capacity to withhold a beautiful sight. The freshness and holiness of the atmosphere were light and enchanting as if it was untouched by the creatures of the land, save for the animals. It was there his eyes landed on the stream his ears had the fortunate pleasure of listening to. The bubbles of happiness the running water echoed flooded through the roots of a maple tree whose roots formed an archway over the stream. Its roots were planted deeply, and its foundation was firm for the smaller creatures to gather in unity and live. Currently, its leaves were still green, signalling that autumn was far away from stealing its youth.

The exhilarating sensation was still bubbling in his chest when his foot landed in the enclosure and touched the grass. He felt like it was a crime to enter the area clad in his boots. Toes melting into the grass, he sighed blissfully at the warmth the earth provided. Middle Earth isn’t as terrible as I believed it to be after all! At this point, the dangers that could present themselves during this moment were long forgotten as his eyes took in the serenity the land offered.

Laughter had bubbled up his throat and slipped past his lips when a pair of blue jay swooped down from their nest and fluttered around him, singing their morning song. Anor’s rays were still scattered throughout the trees, yet to peak the canopy. Lifting his hand for the birds to land as he assumed it was their intention, the sound of another bird breaks his concentration.

“They seem to like you, well, of course, they would. You’re an elf, all animals tend to flock to your kind with ease.” You were sitting on the opposite side of the maple tree, hidden from his eyes, but audible to his ears. They cocked in the direction your voice echoed and his head automatically craned to view the owner of the voice with curious eyes.

The birds perched on his arm were long forgotten. You had taken the stoplight and captured his attention. Were you a fellow elf or perhaps half-elven as he had come to learn existed. He had met the Edains…who were highly indifferent to his kind. Many qualities were noticeable to differentiate elves from men, so surely, you were on the elven side. But…of course, they would. You’re an elf, an elf wouldn’t make such a statement. You were mortal.

“…Would you be so kind as to reveal yourself, that way I can know who I am about to host a conversation with?” He attempted to hide his commanding nature and royal assertiveness, not wanting to scare you or propose the assumption that you were being forced. Though, he wanted to be a bit commanding, desperate to meet the face of this cheerful voice.

The sound of a book shutting, and clothes crumpling resonated behind the tree and prompted him to shuffle his bare feet across the grass the view you before you could present yourself. What, or as a matter of fact, who he saw, surprised him. Mortals weren’t known for their exquisite form of beauty, but for certain, you surely must have been. The way your hair moved with you as you arose, swishing and curling with your body and wind, was enthralling. Your much smaller figure still held grace and agility that was comparable to the elves. Even your voice reflected the beauty that the elves were known for displaying. Mortal or not, there had to be a trace of elven blood somewhere.

Finarfin gawked, unconsciously, while you ushered yourself off the ground and encircled the tree to prevent stepping over the larger and more complicated roots. More to avoid embarrassment before an otherworldly creature. The corners of his lips were upturned, and his eyes softened as you bounded over to his taller figure without an ounce of fear. That brought some sense of relief to his erratic heart.

“Greetings My Lord, may a star shine upon our meeting.” You greeted him formally with the extension of your hand from your heart to him. His eyes widened unexpectedly and his lips parted to inhale. While the High King received the greeting from the other Edains upon meeting them for their war meetings, there was something different about yours. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but it provided some volume of pleasure.

Being in a distant land for what was considered a few years, his interest in learning the mortal tongue fluctuated due to their ability to communicate in his. While he knew their tongue, the memories of the language were hidden away at the back of his mind. Finarfin’s turmoil began the longer he stood there gawking at you, blue jays already flown away and hand limp at his side, dying to respond. For a moment, he forgot all knowledge of the proper sequence of hosting a conversation, but that was not the reason for his hindrance.

His heart thumped like a hummingbird as warmth filled his skin. He knew it was not the sun, it was still at its 8 o’clock angle. The increase of air in his lungs, the rush of blood flowing under his skin, the lightness of his body, the chorus his fёa sang, Finarfin knew exactly what it meant. It was the last thing on his mind he would ever expect to re-experience again, let alone, here in a foreign land. Loneliness was forgotten and had never felt so foreign and unnerving now that he stood face-to-face in your presence.

What would the Valar say if he offered to return home with you? Did you even feel what he felt?

“Apologies for my…silence…uhh. Might I know your name?” He quickly asked to prevent you from being swayed by his lack of response. When was the last time I had ever attempted to swoon someone? Ah yes, since then…

The memory wasn’t merry to remember. It stung him twice.

“Y/N, My Lord! My name is Y/N,” you exclaimed. “Might I have to honour of knowing yours?”

A name so unusual and unheard off was the epitome of a rare jewel; his mind could never comprehend or imagine such a beauty. Though, he could see the way you peered up at his majestic figure, enthralled the moment you were caught by his welcoming smile and softened electric blue eyes. Knowing the effect of his beauty on others became normality, but when it was you who was affected, his composure was slowly chipping away behind the sole of his feet. Being bare feet on the grass was probably a terrible idea, any moment he could lose his barring and fall harder.

“Arafinwe, my dear,” he politely answered, struggling to keep his the frequency of his voice stable. The hand that once gripped the hilt of his sword reached out and lifted your dainty fingers, over your head, to meet his soft lips (he hoped they were soft enough) and enthral you more.

His ears picked up the faint gasp and his fingers detected the skip in your pulse at the contact. He still had it in him to place his effective charming spell over you.

“Y-Your name…it is unusual to my ears. Very different from the Sindar and the Noldor. Are you perhaps a Moriquendi?” Your question would have offended another whose natural instincts were to shun the rejected race and prideful boost of theirs, but Finarfin knew there were no negative intents behind your curiosity. Like any charmed person, he would enlighten you.

“No, my dear. Noldorin I am, and from across the sea, I came to like those you know. However, my name remains unchanged and dwells in the language of the High Elves, Quenya,” he spoke. A voice like honey, rich and heavy, luring you in with positive intentions to savour more. A taste unlike any other you had ever sampled. Your folks told tales of the Edain who fell for the elf-maiden, fairest of all them all in face and voice, and you wanted to protest against that saying. He was the fairest of them all. Never had a voice like his make butterflies erupt.

“Ah, well that would explain your…accent, it is different from those who speak my tongue,” you stated.

Humming in a sing-song manner, he beamed. “Indeed it is. I have not developed the proper speech technique? …no, forgive me, phonetics of your language. I recently arrived.” He was still holding your hand in his, knowing that he needed to return it, but refusing to part from your touch. Finarfin was like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Then that means you are the elves who came to assist us in battle?! It is you, along with the King, from across the sea who won us the war and brought peace to our land?!”

“The stories have already spread? It has only been a month since the war ended,” he laughed enthusiastically and was intrigued to learn what you might have heard about him. “What have they said about the King?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed at the sudden pique in his interest. “Well, they said that it was he who won the war and defeated the great Dark Lord, driving him and his foul creatures from the land. He fought valiantly and fiercely, with the heart and strength of a lion.”

His heart fluttered at the impression the folks had on him, yet, he wanted to know what you thought of him.

Dropping his hand while maintaining his grip around your fragile fingers as he had come to understand about the Edain. Such delicate creatures you were, much need of care and protection would be required.

“And…what do you think of the King?” he peered, desperate to flutter his heart at your opinion of him. A start to understanding how you saw him through your eyes. A start to rekindle the fire in his heart.

“Well, My Lord…” you pondered. “I cannot say what I think of him for I have never met nor seen him. But I can say that he must be kind, strong and fierce to have led his troupes into battle and win.”

The smile on his face grew from your modesty. You were remarkably wonderful in the short moment he grew to know you. His ego was flaring up at the praises you threw innocently at him. Anyone else who praised him, and it would have been common knowledge from then, but you made a repetitive compliment sound like a prize. What other words could he successfully pry from your honeyed lips?

Turning his head up to the sky, the sun had already peaked and cast its noonday shadows. When did time fly this quickly? Did you cast and enchanting spell upon me? I surely do not mind. His troupes would be out searching for him, an interruption he refused to accept. If he stayed here, they would find him in a matter of hours, but of course, there were ways to evade unwanted interruptions.

“And what if I revealed to you that I am the Noldóran, the King, you speak of, will you continue to keep me company?” he teased. It was long since he felt the need to tease anyone. Not even his nephews he reunited with and he used to playfully tease as children could he attempt to taunt.

His heart was yearning for company…companionship, and you were giving him a sense of hope. Yet to truly understand and grasp the untold truth of the Edains, or perhaps like every other elf before him who did, he ignored it to fill the empty gap in his heart. When the time was right, what pain and suffering he had to experience, he would deal with it as such.

Appalled by his boldness, you stuttered, stunned, “T-The King? You are the King, Arafinwe…your Majesty? Why would you be out here conversing with me and not in the safety of your people?”

Chuckling while lifting his other hand to encompass the one holding yours, he held it between you both. Despite the great height difference between you two, looking down lacked discomfort. There was more mirth and dynamism the longer he locked his gaze with yours. He could see the way your cheeks became swollen and lifted to present your bashfulness and enthrallment to him. It was endearing to learn that he still had the effects he once possessed.

“The beauty of the land was calling to me, and I could not resist. So I came looking, and I was entranced when I discovered that it was you, beckoning to me,” he whispered delicately as though he was citing a soliloquy. “I do not wish to part from you so soon, I still have much to learn, and your company would be splendid.”

Falling speechless at his poetry, none which you ever heard from the elves, dwarves and men have ever sounded as sophisticated and eloquent as his. He was purposefully melting your insides a caramel. Looking up at his marvellously heightened figure, he appeared taller than most of the elves you witnessed. His aura was radiant and compelling.

“My King…surely you do not mean that. I am mortal and you, an elf. It is unlikely between us.”

“If it is unlikely, then why is my heart racing this instant as we speak?” His heart sped up and then clenched at the partial rejection. Never before had Finarfin felt the dire urge to act so direct. Affairs of the heart were always a dangerous situation to be caught in, and this was different from any he had experienced. “But, if that is what you wish, then I would respectfully understand and part ways, but if not, I will pursue no matter what they say.” But my heart would ache and cry for you.

Even you felt a pang in your heart at his sullen state of dejection. “…It is not every day you meet an elf who wishes to fancy you. Mayhaps we become a successful story to the others before us?” you breathed. “So how might I, a mortal, keep His Majesty company if he wishes it?”

“Ay, we can indeed,” he replied with little to no knowledge of the tragedies that couples like him and you faced, but eager was his heart and fëa to love again. He would put his affections and courage to the test to love you. “Arafinwe, my dear. And a tour of the area would be pleasing; that way I can find you easily when I wish to reunite with you again,” he smirked.

Shyly nodding and biting your lip, you hid your growing flustered state and mumbled, “Then I would be honoured to give you a tour to meet again…soon, Arafinwe.”

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[pearlescentpearl]

Political Pawn AU 2

You can find Post 1 here.

Findekáno does not go to bed

Turukáno finds him brooding on the lake shore, stone eyed and tense

“You’re rethinking things you ought not rethink,” Turukáno says, though he knows it is in vain

“I am trying not to,” Findekáno tells him, folding his arms tighter against the wind. “Whatever he did, it doesn’t change the outcome. Those who suffered still suffered. Those who died still died. I can think better of him for trying to speak on our behalf before the betrayal became irreversible, but not for helping kick it off by taking the ships at Araman, nor his foolishness in thinking the situation would be otherwise.”

And he does think a great deal better of Russandol, for trying. Fëanáro’s wrath had proven no small thing to risk. He failed to stop what he himself abetted, and in his failure rested the horror of trekking the Helcaraxë

But still, knowing someone tried to protest, knowing someone didn’t forget them, that Russandol didn’t forget him...

It’s something

“Father and Aunt are already embroiled in plans for how to use this,” Turukáno says dully, settling next to him on the grassy bank. “I left because I couldn’t stand listening them anymore.”

“What are they thinking?” Findekáno asks, half-fearing the answer. Too many have waited too long for the slightest crack in Fëanáro’s defensive stubbornness, and the feud the eldest sons of Finwë wage has always driven them to unreasonable heights. He doesn’t delude himself into thinking the next move won’t be stunningly vicious

“Father’s hoping to foment Fëanáro’s own people against him by suggesting Nelyafinwë is the only of their House deserving of the crown, seeing as he doesn’t agree with abandoning his people,” Turukáno says bitterly. “He’s hoping it will galvanize those who didn’t agree with their traitor king’s actions into... I don’t know, forcing Fëanáro to do something about them.”

Findekáno huffs a disbelieving laugh, voice cracking. “The man is being tortured in Angamando, and Father would make him king? What is he thinking? This is going to rend the Noldor worse than we already are!”

It wouldn’t just be the Fëanárian Faction tearing into itself over this, it would be their own people too. What cohesiveness they’d held onto all this time would dissolve as the question of Russandol’s actions and what they were worth became a Kindred-wide debate

In Valinor they could get away with that. On Angamando’s doorstep?

Death would come for them in their distraction

“You know how Father gets when Fëanáro’s involved,” Turukáno says, and they share such a look of deep commiseration

“I also know how you get about Nelyafinwë,” Turukáno continues, and Findekáno hunches his shoulders. “You’re just like Father, you know. Not an ounce of objectivity in either of you.”

“I am trying to be better,” Findekáno protests defensively. “I know I... I ruined so much acting out of love instead of wisdom.”

“You are not the only,” Turukáno says heavily, “who has made ruinous choices out of love.”

“I think, at some point, we two, it stopped being about love and more about pride,” Findekáno whispers. “It was love when I raised a sword at Alqualondë. It was pride when I helped them steal the ships; too much pride to stop and repent when I learned the truth.”

“I should hit you for being right,” Turukáno sighs, leaning back on his hands. “I can not separate the love from the pride since the Darkening. I only know we, none of us, acted with wisdom when we had the chance. And now we must live with it, and hope to be wiser in the tribulations to come.”

“Like this harebrained plan of Father’s. He’s not going to get reparations if he’s just going back to undermining Fëanáro. I want to tear the man down from his high horse as much as anyone, but I’m so sick of the feud, Turvo. Hasn’t it taken enough from us?”

“It will only stop taking when we all stop feeding it.”

“Might as well ask the both of them to starve themselves.”

“Hah!” Turukáno laughs. “That will be the day!” A pause to let the mist billow by. “Brother. You’re thinking about doing something.”

Findekáno doesn’t deny it. “Someone has to check Father’s worst impulses.”

“Whatever you do,” Turukáno says, “I beg you. Act from love. Not pride. I can forgive you for love. I am not sure how much more I can for pride. For anyone.”

“Even yourself?”

“Perhaps especially myself.”

Findekáno leans over to bump his forehead to his brother’s. “For love,” he agrees. Leaning back, he admires the sight of the unvarnished stars, Rána in its dark phase. “If anyone should ask, tell them I left early on patrol.”

“And if I should ask?”

“I will say only that I promise to return.”

“Heartening.”

In the morning, Turukáno indeed tells any who ask that his brother is on patrol, though he is sure to put up his most dour of expressions to dissuade any who might try to ask him. Easy enough, with the speech his Father starts the morning with

Itarillë, nearly full grown now, finds him halfway through and threads her fingers in his

Glancing down, he finds her pensive, brow furrowed in a mirror of his own expression

She was born during Fëanáro’s exile. Half her life has been spent on the Helcaraxë. She only knows her half-relations through stories, and glimpses during the march to Araman. They are as strangers to her. He wonders what she makes of this speech upholding a man she would only ever have heard cursed

He feels her mind brush against his, a wisp of winter wind carrying the scent of evergreens

The townsfolk are listening, she tells him

And do they agree? He asks

Her head turns to regard the mingled Lestorodrim and Fëanárian Loyalists. Some of them, maybe. The Lestorodrim have minds as girdled as their homes, but ultimately Noldor matters are Noldor matters to them. The Fëanárians are... split. I see much shame and regret in them

Not so much they’ll act on it of their own volition, Turukáno retorts. He recognizes the pride that refuses to humble itself in the face of wrongdoing as easily as he sees it in his mirror

He’s not blind. He sees the shame in their faces too

If they want forgiveness they’ll have to humble themselves first

Itarillë elbows him

Following her intent gaze he sees one of the Ambarussa in the crowd, face going pale and intent

“Which one is that one?” She murmurs

It’s difficult to gauge at this distance, what with the mist making everything perpetually damp, but he thinks that dark shade of red denotes Pityafinwë, the elder twin

“Well,” Turukáno murmurs back. “Your grandfather has garnered the attention he wanted.”

“But is it the attention the rest of us need?”

“That remains to be seen.”

As Finwë-Ñolofinwë wraps up his speech on Fëanáro’s flaws as a leader so far (many), Nelyafinwë’s virtues in comparison (anyone would come out smelling like roses compared to Fëanáro), and the obvious disregard of the people’s will displayed in Fëanáro’s refusal to repent, Amabarussa takes off to Barad Eithel

They would have Fëanáro’s response soon

It will be ugly. Turukáno doesn’t need foresight to predict that

“What do you think of all this, Father?” Itarillë asks, jarring him out of his dire thoughts

“I spent far too many times telling you as a child that it’s important that you tried, even when you failed,” Turukáno says after a moment. “Sometimes, especially when you failed. I am loathe to make a mockery of yet more of the virtues I tried to raise you with. Yet my heart is broken. Whatever healing or amending I may find in the future, it cannot make that fact not be.”

“I do not think you make a mockery of anything,” Itarillë says. “You raised me to believe in the importance of trying, even in the face of failure. You also raised me to contend with the consequences of failure. I expect no less maturity from my elders.”

Overhead, the sky is clouded

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 3 @eonweweek

"Unprepared"

Prompt: War

Pairing: Eönwë & Angaquárë (OC)

Themes: NSFT | Angst-ish

Warnings: Very mild sensuality

Word count: 1.4k words

Summary: During the beginning of the War of Wrath, Eönwë calls on Angaquárë to speak to him on the manner in which he fights during battles.

A/n : Bio for Angaquárë, my OC, can be found here.

Minors DNI

“The Lord Commander is without, my lord,” an elven warrior said. He stood by the tent entrance, for etiquette decreed that he stay that way unless invited inside. “Shall I allow him entry?”

“A moment,” Angaquárë replied. He turned to face his companion, and said, “Tis best if you left, my lady. The Lord Commander may not take kindly to another listening to what he has to say.”

“Of course, my lord.” The Maia’s companion threw back their furs and got out of bed. She set herself to the task of getting dressed and trembled when he reached out and caressed the small of her back. “I trust you will want me to call on you later?”

“Indeed, my lady,” Angaquárë told her. “We still have much to discover about each other.”

The elleth flushed from cheek to chest, but she smiled and said, “As you will, my lord.”

Angaquárë watched her depart with a mournful look. The lady was almost as fair as those of his own kindred. Her thick sable hair smelled of lavender oil, and her lips tasted sweet. Then there was her skin—it was soft, like silk. She was eager also, willing to accommodate herself to his every whim and pleasure. It was an aspect Angaquárë intended to make the most of while she continued to agree to him bedding her.

“I will speak with the Lord Eönwë now,” Angaquárë called out, rising. He slipped into a robe he had laid out for himself at the foot of the bed and left his sleeping chamber. And this was how the Lord Commander found him when he entered the tent: garbed in a linen robe, standing by a little table, and pouring cups of fine wine for them both.

“Was your companion to your liking?” Eönwë asked with feigned indifference. In truth, he wanted to satisfy himself with the knowledge that no harm came to his general’s elven companion. Angaquárë was a Maia, after all, and he was known for his many appetites. He could have easily forgotten himself and gone too far.

“Very much so,” Angaquárë replied truthfully. He held out a cup of wine for the herald of the Elder King to take, and then he studied him keenly. “The lady was a most welcome companion, and we each found much pleasure in our coupling. But I suspect you did not come here to speak of the companions I take to my bed. Am I correct on this score?”

Eönwë nodded. The time had come to speak of the true cause of his calling on his fellow warrior.

“Yes," he said, having perceived the other Maia was indeed speaking the truth about his relations with the elf. He moved to sit on a high, lattice stool, and he gestured for Angaquárë to do the same. “I came to speak to you about the manner in which you conducted yourself during our first battle.”

“Ah,” Angaquarë said. He straddled his stool with long legs and sipped his wine. “You believe I go too far?”

“Oh, aye,” Eönwë returned. “You are too thirsty for the spilling of blood, as always. And I have come to ask you to restrain yourself, my lord. These fell servants of Morgoth may yet wish to turn away from the path they set themselves on. Others may wish to return to Valinor, and plead for pardon. We must allow them to do so.”

“These creatures will never turn away from the paths they have chosen for themselves. They will never plead for pardon,” Angaquárë said. He took another sip of wine and savored its taste. “Tis folly to even believe that they would do so.”

Eönwë sighed. The Úmanyar spoke the same during their many meetings with him, as did the emissaries of Men. The Edain who pledged themselves to Morgoth could not be saved, or the orcs and the lesser spirits, or the Maiar themselves. They were lost to all now, consumed by the darkness and malice fed to them by their lord. There would be no joyous return, no turning away from paths shrouded in shadows, and it grieved him immensely. Nevertheless, he held onto the hope that at least a few of them would return, and that his own lord would grant them pardon.

“Such may indeed be the case,” he allowed, albeit reluctantly, “for some of them. But for others, redemption may yet be possible. This is why I urge you to curb your hunger for violence the next time we go to battle. We must give quarter to those who yield.”

Angaquárë studied the Lord Commander again. “When you speak of these others, do you mean the great smith who even now serves his master as his most trusted servant and companion?”

A flash of heat rose up Eönwë’s throat. Angaquárë spoke of Mairon, the Maia who once lived beside him in the Timeless Halls, and who was once a beloved companion of his heart. Still, he composed himself. He would not give a servant of Makar the pleasure of seeing him startled, or distressed.

“I speak of many,” he began, and he drained his cup in one swallow. The wine was quite light and sweet and fragrant, more suited for a delicious meal shared with friends than a darkened tent used by a quarrelsome spirit. “And not just the one you spoke of. Restrain yourself from here on out, my lord. That is a command.”

“I hear your command,” Angaquárë said. He stood and set his cup down on the table. “And I say nay. How I deal with our enemies during battle is not your concern, my lord.”

“How you deal with our enemies is very much my concern, for your conduct reflects poorly on me, and it reflects poorly on the Host of the Valar.” Eönwë set down his cup and stood as well, his vivid cobalt eyes blazing. He seemed to grow tall and fierce and menacing, and the air within the tent crackled and sparked. He did not wish to do this, to remind another of their own place, but he felt like he must. Manwë gave to him his own sword and bid him to lead the Host of the Valar in his stead; he would not be seen as a leader if he bowed his head to one of inferior rank. “And you will heed me on this. Restrain yourself, my lord. Offer quarter to those who ask for it. Are we in agreement on this matter?”

Angaquárë was not afraid of him, having grown accustomed to his own master’s fiery temper. Nevertheless, he yielded. He was in too fine a mood after having spent a most glorious evening with a choice companion, and he desired the Lord Commander to leave. At length, he said, “Very well, my lord. I will do as you command.” He paused, hesitated. “But I, myself, believe no quarter will be asked. Who would ask for such a thing, while Morgoth still lives? If he achieves victory in this war and comes upon all those who gave themselves over to us, they would have to suffer his wrath.”

“You say they will not yield?”

“I say they will not. These fell servants will fight us to the very death if need be, for death would be preferable, no doubt, than having to contend with Morgoth's fury. This war will be a long and bloody one. You best be prepared for it.”

Eönwë shivered. “Let us hope that this bleak outcome you speak of does not come to fruition. My thanks, my lord, for the wine. I will leave you now to your duties and your amusements.”

The other Maia merely grunted and turned away. Eönwë turned sharply on his heel and departed. The night was quite cool, and the stars shone brightly in a blackened sky. And the Lord Commander did not see their beauty; his thoughts lingered on Angaquárë’s words instead.

The servants of Morgoth were numerous. They infested forests and caves, and they dwelled in ruined cities and great holdfasts. Some of them were loyal to their master’s cause, and many of them lived in fear of him. And they, as Angaquárë said, would fight the Host of the Valar to the death, for death would indeed be preferable to failing and suffering their master’s wrath. The battles to come would be violent and filled with much bloodshed and grief, and he, Eönwë, perceived in his heart that he was wholly unprepared for it.

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese