theexistentialmeow

[theexistentialmeow]

Maeglin didn't do good things, yes okay. But my heart still breaks because "Melko wove about him the spell of bottomless dread, and he had thereafter neither joy nor quiet in his heart."

like no one deserves that. no one. what does bottomless dread truly even mean? poor bby. melkor didn't need to corrupt him, maeglin was doing a good job of it himself, but he did anyway.

it's just so sad.

[theexistentialmeow]

once, before, Fëanor was truly adored

because there was a time, when the trees were shedding light and before the silmarils were made, when people dearly loved him. He was charismatic, generous with his time and compliments, intelligent, delightfully creative, stood behind lemonade stalls with his sons, and made people laugh so much that everyone wanted him giving speeches at their parties- which he did, with an open heart. (He hurt, too, because at those same parties would be Indis with his half-brothers and he yearned terribly for the adoration from a mother he never knew.)

Before the silmarils, he was the silmaril himself. Then they were created and began to outshine even his own person, and he was lost.

[theexistentialmeow]

it's interesting how in other fandoms we categorise fic by things like fluff, non-con, dub-con, pwp. But here in tolkien elf-land we use far more subtle categories like incest, incestuous, and threesome incest.

[theexistentialmeow]

If they were all a season, which would they be? Feanor (summer), Maedhros (autumn), Finrod (Winter), Fingon (Spring). Found here too.

Summer (Fëanaro)

Eyes shy beneath your radiance glaring still through our closed lids, closed too, to the possibility that coils readily in your palm.  You forge, steady-handed, our horizons, blind willingly to the destruction in your wake.

When we beg for mercy, you scorch the ground beneath us with your laughter. When we weep for your brilliance, you wrap around our desire, and stake us upon the flaming earth.

Fall (Maedhros)

White-grey ash thick upon our lashes, Arda’s veins long since dried, we retreat, blackened like the bark; withered; brittle. And it’s here you rise strong, burnt like the land from which you sprung, and speak to us of endurance. (—you, who stand between fire and the long night, knowing not your own proximity to your Fall.) But we, thirsting, turn our helpless eyes to where you blaze upon that final Edge, if not for our lack of will, but for the promise in your burnished figure: opening skies to spill your rain, directing us to your cooling lake, bidding us drink.

Winter (Finrod) Calm now, we settle. For you receive us indiscriminately, arms wide, folding us in. Undemanding, you provide warmth that turns our cheeks and colours them pink. Only then in this stillness we learn, —like the stars, the sweetness of your stability. Of your heroics we learn not. That the world from which you quietly shield us, —the world you love without condition in all its cruelty— is the one you allow to douse your final song. Allow: for with your passing you know, regretless, hope may be delivered yet.

Spring (Fingon) Spinning circles upon warming earth you burst forthwith, contagious in your abundance. As brambles grow without direction, not to spite the long night but by design: following no rule but your own nature. You seek no retinue, save only release for the seeds you sprinkle with each generous glance. For you understand that we— who delight in the fragile new leaves that unfurl in your passing— are ourselves the softness that grows, fragrant and wild, cushioning bare feet as you dance.

[theexistentialmeow]

And Finrod fell before the throne

this is the one line to rule them all that has been tattooed across my soul in rainbow glitter. there are so many others but this one,

this one,

ffff

if I had to explain why, I would say it is the combination between what is an incredibly heroic action taken by Findarato - a selfless verbal spell battle against a Maia and in such a hopeless situation - combined with the absolute insane opportunity to over-sexualise and insert 105 kinks into this exact moment.

it's this combination that, like.

i just, why?

[theexistentialmeow]

soooo. what coffee/tea are they all drinking?

Maedhros: Lavender tea. Doesn't actually like it but someone told him it’s good for insomnia. 

Maglor: Hot chocolate. Gives the marshmallows to Caranthir.

Celegorm: Does not need coffee. Everyone actively avoids giving him anything caffeinated for good reason.

Caranthir: Anything black. Not fussy.

Curufin: Espresso at 7am, 9:30, 11:15, and then 1:30pm. Trusts no one to make it other than himself. Coffee bought out is often returned and refunded in full. 

Amrod & Amras: Mocha. 

Finrod: Iced Caramel Soy Latte.

Fingon: Instant coffee. Whatever is cheapest. 

Turgon: Earl Grey Tea. Milk, no sugar. 

Maeglin: Boiled water with a dash of milk.

Feanor: Thinks all coffee is the same and orders “one coffee, thanks” at the counter. No one corrects him.

Fingolfin: English Breakfast. Almond milk because he’s lactose intolerant. 

Finarfin: Jasmine tea.

[theexistentialmeow]

i don't know who needs to hear this but there were only two days when Annatar and Celebrimbor were together that they actually didn't fuck. One was when Celebrimbor injured himself on the tools, and another when they were interrupted due to a literal attack on the city

please note this means that they were fucking on the day Celebrimbor was murdered, and each one leading up to that

[theexistentialmeow]

The battle of ink continues between Curufin & Caranthir in the final chapter.

But Curufin plays the long game and Caranthir doesn't see it coming.

(Maglor knows exactly what Curufin did, but loves his mini-Feanor so much that he says nothing. After all, he'll bring hot cocoa to Caranthir when he's in bed and sing to him.)

(Maedhros is oblivious but this has less to do with his insight and more to do with finding a remedy for the twins' hangover while trying to stop Celegorm from annoying Fingon.)

[theexistentialmeow]

Fëanor's 'graduating from Valinor' speech was not a joke.

all: "shall we mourn here deedless for ever, or shall we go home?" and "to flight, to freedom in far places...the woods of the world, whose wide mansions yet in darkness dream... the pathless plains no moon yet shines on..."

Like say no more, mate. I'm coming with you to those woods and plains. You've convinced me. You win. Shut up now.

[theexistentialmeow]

The painful thing is that even if Fëanor had given the Silmarils to the Valar to restoke the light of the trees - it would not have happened. For as they were speaking, Melkor had stolen them. They were already gone.

But importantly, Fëanor still chose not to share them. Even if he said yes, Valinor would have remained in the dark and the Noldor would have still marched West, and everything that came to pass in the first age probably would have been unchanged.

So this evil decision of Feanor technically had no immediate consequence, it was just another domino falling in the path of his own descent.

Another reminder to the Valar of what Fëanor might have been, and what he never was. The marring of Fëanor; Melkor's greatest work.

[theexistentialmeow]

While Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir use thumb smudged ink on their envelopes to mark them as private between them, Maedhros and Maglor spray theirs with rosewater perfume, so that they are always smelling the letters from each other before they open them, just in case. on ao3 here

[theexistentialmeow]

on the birth of Fëanor

I'm obsessed the idea that Tolkien was hinting at but that didn't quite make it into the published Silmarillion: that Fëanor was born during the crossing from Cuivienen to Aman, well before the Noldor were yeeted over the sea and settled under to the light of the trees, and not in Tirion upon Tuna. He would have been born Moriquendi, the little darling.

The most significant part is not that he wasn't born in Valinor, but that he was the first to be born, period. Of Ingwë, Finwë, Elwë and every other strictly heterosexual monogamous elven couple which was apparently all of them, Fëanor was the first to be born of any family.

Up until then, all elves had 'awoken' under the blanket of Varda's stars. None had been born as babes, swaddled and raised as curious kids. That he was the first to originate from flesh and blood and sex creates a kind of beautiful symmetry to the subsequent destructive and innovative force that was the greatness of Fëanor and his undiagnosed ADHD that was unfortunately never medicated (and to this day, I maintain he will only be allowed out of Mandos' halls when he's been stable on 70mg of Vyvanse, which is never because Melkor hoarded them all before the awakening of the Children as it was the only way to keep Mairon from bouncing off the walls and focussed on his projects).

Fëanor wasn't just an only child. He was the only child that existed. So take only-child syndrome and multiply it by a whole race. It's no wonder that the coming of Fingolfin and Finarfin was wildly unacceptable to him. He went from being the only child in Ea, to being one of three brothers, and motherless to boot.

With his birth he literally starts the second generation of elves (and ends a lot of them, too). It's a singular point of origin from which everything flows, and I love the idea that it was on the journey across. Feanor didn't wait for anything, even in his birth.

[theexistentialmeow]

Vanyar and Noldor

the saddest sundering, or perhaps the most silent-yet-insidious was the gradual separation of the Vanyar from the Noldor when they first came to Aman Year 1140: "And though others of the Vanyar dwelt still in Tirion in fellowship with the Noldor, the sundering of those kindreds and of their tongue was begun; for ever and anon yet more of the Vanyar would depart." AND Year 1165: "In this year the last of the Vanyar departed from Tirion and the Noldor dwelt there alone, and their converse and friendship thereafter was rather with the Teleri."

The only hc that makes this bearable is that the Noldor were literally the extraverted party elves and held so many loud events through the night, banging their hammers and clanging their jewels, that the Vanyar - introverts at heart - eventually just couldn't do it. I'm not saying the Noldor were the most unsufferable of the three kindreds by far but. No wait, yes I am saying that.

Because Curufin and Feanor used to hold month-long benders just to irk them and placed bets on how many Vanyar they could cause to permanently move out of Tirion over the following weeks. They etched the numbers into a stone in their workshop.

But like, the scary part is that this is literally what happens in all communities, everywhere, on multiple levels, for various reasons.

[theexistentialmeow]

Hc #2 for this fic is that when Orodreth points out (as curufin is fucking him), that it’s wrong and disgusting because they are cousins, Curufin agrees.

Not about the incest part. About the part where they are cousins. 

[theexistentialmeow]

the most satisfying thing about the Great Fëanorian Divide is that everyone else out there respectably reviewing their character in blogs and podcasts is bashing them/perpetually annoyed at them and want them to shut up, whereas the rest of the internet is all 'everyone wants to fuck their brains out and also they are fucking each other.'

and the meta thing about this is that the Fëanorians themselves quietly encourage this divide that keeps them in the centre of the everyone's orbit because all publicity is good publicity

[theexistentialmeow]

No one warned me about the Silmarillion

six weeks into this fandom, these elves, these pervasive creatures who are long dead or not born yet but live parties in my head and I can't help but ask

How long did it take for you, (with every cell in your body, every fibre of your being and spare moment of your consciousness) to stop, you know... loving them?