#feanors ghost is Proud

[sesamenom]

Various inhabitants of rivendell

(inspired by @thesummerestsolstice here and here)

#silm #silmarillion #lotr #rivendell #maglor #erestor #i hope you do not mind me borrowing garthaglir like a particularly cool rock on the playground #i imagine glorfindels arrival at rivendell like #he walks into the library and runs into garthaglir #both of them scream #but then later glorfindel sat him down and taught him to do fancy braids #now they are friends #later he was part of the redhorn pass search and rescue team out of loyalty to the people who took him in #(bonus points if he was originally a caradhras orc...) #he has joined glorfindel in Team Hair Down During Battle and elrond is so tired #although later he teaches elrond the local dialect of black speech #they spend weeks in the library transcribing texts and poring over the etymology of particularly quenya-derived words #orcs are kind of undead (see: aure entuluva battle) and elrond is weird and somewhat maiarin #somebody eventually forces them to go take a break after three weeks of nonstop linguistics-bonding #feanors ghost is Proud #(he also is glad that erestor eventually befriended lindir because hey! thats one grandkid who didnt disown everyone) #the one old feanorion and thingols guard both refuse to modernize their armor #elrohir is like 'you know mail is a thing now right?? leg armor has existed for two ages and youre still wearing your fancy battle robes' #to which both of them will yell something only vaguely understandable about modern armor being poorly made #and then proceed to fight about whose armor was actually more effective at the dagor nuin giliath #(theyre that old)

[yourlocalnetizen]

Amrod & Amras headcanons because they had so much potential.

They’re the youngest grandchildren of Finwe, so the king always had a soft spot for them, not that he wouldn’t have if they weren’t but them being the youngest made their bond with him extra special.

They were very playful back in the good old Valinor days and definitely tricked people tons about who was who.

Being hunters as well, they naturally looked up to Celegorm who they were the closest with out of their brothers apart from each other.

They are the second and third tallest of their brothers. They resemble Maedhros a lot but they’re much leaner.

Despite their status as princes, they were fairly humble since the were closer to Nerdanel growing up.

They were very close to their dad too given they swore an oath for him obviously but by elven standards, they were young when Melkor started getting into Feanor’s head and he began his downward spiral so more often than not Feanor was in a bad mood and the twins didn’t want to disturb him.

I prefer the version Amrod doesn’t die in the ships because the Silm is tragic enough as it is so I like to think Amrod gets burnt but doesn’t die.

I see Amrod’s personality changing a lot after this event. He once had a sunny personality but he becomes increasingly reclusive and flinches when touched, even by Amras.

This obviously affects his beloved twin as well who’s incredibly regretful over even coming to middle earth.

Neither exactly want the Silmarils, they swore an oath though and they’re too proud to break it. All they really want is to go home.

They would have loved Mirkwood if they ever saw the place though.

Neither are on good terms with their father when he dies. Amras was incredibly mournful and Amrod more apathetic, to him it seemed like his loving father was dead long before that point anyways.

Like all of Feanor’s sons though, they were haunted by his ghost for the rest of their lives.

They get reembodied together the first out of the Feanorians, if were only counting Feanor's sons of course because Celebrimbor would be reembodied far before them.

Before getting reembodied, they get closure with Feanor. They don’t exactly forgive him but he’s still their dad and they do love him.

#amrod #amras #feanor #feanorians #sons of feanor #the silmarillion #silm headcanons

[stormwarnings]

dior eluchil is born in a green and lovely land under a dark sky and a new moon. his father says wearily, a healthy boy. a legacy made. his mother says wearily, the first of his line. the last of his kind. 

dior grows fast. dior’s wide eyes, always watching, and the people of this green isle do love their little lord, but he is strange. dior does not cry, not ever. he watches the moon like a hungry mouth, and his eyes are gleaming and dark. his teeth grow in so quickly that even the nursemaid is shocked. beren shakes his head. a man, he says. we grow like weeds.

but he is not a man. this, it is true, is evident in everything he does. perhaps luthien has chosen the mortal path, perhaps beren was born a man, but to be born half-maia, to be returned from the halls of the dead like no man will ever again -

dior is not a man. dior is not an elf. nobody knows what dior is. nobody ever will, not in his time. he is the last of his kind, his mother says. he hears her say it.

his mother sings to him at night, as he teethes on bone and viscera, and grows taller and many-eyed. his mother sings to him in her now-mortal voice, and dior hears the stories where the past and future twine together like old friends. 

dior is alone. dior is not alone. dior will be alone. present, future, past. boys left in the wood, boys found in the wood, a mother lost, a mother rescued, silver-haired beauty and dark-haired beauty and stars burning, and dior is not so different from them, can’t he be like them -

nimloth’s lovely silver face is familiar. he has seen her face before - or maybe it is that he will see her face again, on twin sons, on dark-haired daughters. you are beautiful, she says. why do you mourn?

dior does not know who she speaks of. he cannot speak. he cannot find his way out of the song. he is alone. he is flying and falling, he is a wolf and he is a ghost, he never has a choice - 

you are not alone, nimloth whispers at night. she is not afraid. perhaps that is why he loves her. or perhaps he loves her for her hunger, for her urge to change things, for her love of the quick-burning candle and the quick-changing world, so unlike her elven kin. for her lack of terror no matter the blood that drips from his eyes and his mouth. he does not know why she cares. cannot love be enough? she asks.

it has never been before - no, that is not true. it will never be again.

elwing, eluréd, elurín. dior restores the realm of doriath, becomes king and nimloth his silver queen, but nothing will ever make him so proud as the three little ones that bear his eyes and nimloth’s nose. ghost and gull, he sings to them. you are stars burning, you are mouths hungering, you are beings that will never stop aching but alone you are not -

his mother and father die, and the heralds bring him the nauglamír. around his neck it adorns, and they who see cannot deny how it shines, cannot deny how bright he shines, they say fairest of all three races, of man and elf and maia. they say of all rather than of none. with the silmaril on his breast and blood in his mouth and eyes shining white like the two trees themselves in the days of his grandmother, he is again alone -

the kinslayers come. dior knows even before they will. dior knows his own death, though he is never given the choice of his descendants. but is there, really, a choice? it is not so simple - elf or man. dior is neither. all dior knows is this: his end.

this is our birthright, the sons of feanor tell dior. give it here, and there will be no bloodshed. 

and dior - dior laughs. he says, you cannot even begin to bear it. his blade dazzles in the light. 

dior is alone.

here is what the songs will say. here is what the historians will not.

nimloth died with an axe in her hand, unbecoming of an elven lady, her smile fierce and her dress bloody, succumbing to her injuries surrounded by a circle of cut-apart warriors who thought they were better than she. nimloth died thinking her sons were free, thinking oropher would spirit away her daughter with the silmaril on her head to a better life, to a happier world -

caranthir and curufin and celegorm lay atop a pile of bodies. they three had been brought down by dior alone. celegorm’s head cut off, curufin’s heart pierced through, caranthir’s throat torn out. dior had not used his sword for any of this. dior sang as he fought, a song that was not a song as the bards told but rather a song like the songs that made up the world before the sun and moon. 

and dior’s own folk locked the doors to this room, even as all were massacred and all was lost.

dior lay in the middle of the room. dior was a king with bloody hands and a bloody mouth, the first of his line, the last of his kind. dior lay in the middle of the room, eyes burned out of his skull, the ground around his corpse charred by many wings, many limbs, many eyes. dior lay in the middle of the room.

dior was alone. 

#tolkien #silmarillion #dior #my writing #eldritch peredhel #nimloth #elwing #elured #elurin #luthien #beren #hey look its another eldritch peredhil thin #idk if this is my best #i just needed to get it out #wip: whatever we call beautiful #mine

[tilions]

A life saved

A Feanor lives AU... more or less. No he's not a ghost in this one. English is not my first language and a large portion of this text was translated from my mother tongue German into English so if some things like metaphors seem weird to you that might be why. I also aplogise for any errors.

There was nobody welcoming them when Nolofinwe and his followers arrived on the northern side of Lake Mithrim. Not that they should have expected this much from Feanáro to begin with. Instead of wasting time waiting for those too proud to come they started setting up their camp and began restocking their food and water supplies as best as they could with their limited resources.

But when the third and fourth day had come to pass without a single word from the camp on the other side of the lake it was not only Nolofinwe who grew tense. When he made his rounds through the rows of tents to look after the injured or to speak with the few scouts they could spare he could hear the people mutter the same things that were going through his own head.

Shouldn’t the Feanorians have noticed them by now? Was it not enough that they had abandoned them in the first place? Left them to fend for themselves? To take on the risk of crossing the grinding ice? Did they have to ignore them even now? Or was the king perhaps absent, so that it was unclear whether they should be approached at all? But even then, Maitimo was not the sort of person who would act like this.

The fifth day had to begin before there was any change to their situation and it was Irisse who brought it upon them in her usual stubborn manner. Nolofinwe watched her drag Tyelkormo of all people from the west side of their camp all the way to where he was standing, watching Isil rise. Huan was trotting after them leisurely, a stark contrast to his master who was complaining loudly about the way he was being treated.

Irisse ignored him and only pulled harder in his arm, her face very much like her mothers when she was angry. For all the noise he was making Tyelkomro was surprisingly tame and went with his cousin rather willingly. He did not even try to bolt when they stopped in front of Nolofinwe and Irisse let go of his arm.

‘Now talk,’ she said and left them to their own devices. Both Tyelkomo and Nolofinwe watched her as she vanished between the tents, her white dress stained with grass and dirt. As Nolofinwe turned his head to look at Tyelkomo he noticed that his nephew's clothes were similarly looking. He did not even need to ask how Irisse had gotten him here.

When it became very clear that she would not return, Tyelkormo turned his head and looked up into his half uncle's face with a look of great discomfort.

‘And?’ he asked, less sharp than normal, ‘What is it that you want to know?’

'Answers for a start,' Nolofinwe found himself replying. Upon closer observation of his nephew’s face he noticed a faint scar above his left eye that had not been there when they had last seen each other.

‘Well they were too frail,’ was all that Tyelkormo said as if the answer was enough in his mind. It was not for Nolofinwe, a fact that the other one quickly realised. He seemed even more uncomfortable than before and only when Huan laid his head on Tyelkormo’s shoulder and nuzzled the right side of his face he replied reculantly: ‘The boats. They were too frail to cross the sea, technically. It’s a miracle we made it work but they wouldn’t have survived another journey. You don’t have to believe me but I can tell you from what I have seen that you would have been lucky to catch a glimpse of them on the far horizon before they would have fallen apart.’

‘The Teleri are… were very well known to keep their ships in good shape. why then should they let boats like this rest in their havens?’

He was aware that Tylekormo, who never had been overly fond of boating, was the last person who could know the answer to this question. Yet Nolofinwe felt the need to ask anyway. Arafinwe would have known surely but Arafinwe was not here with him but on the other side, in Tirion. Instead of an answer all Tylekormo was able to do was flinch when his uncle mentioned the Teleri and bite his lower lip.

Then after they had stood in silence for a while and that silence became uncomfortable he lifted his shoulders and with a defeated tone in his voice he said: ‘What do I know? All I can tell you is what I already have said. They were too frail. One of them nearly sank to the bottom of the ocean during the journey here because it started falling apart. If Aiwë.. Curvo's wife hadn't been there, we wouldn't have been able to fix it in time.'

Ñolofinwë refrained from asking why Curufinwës Telerin wife had decided to accompany her husband even though he had been part of the slaughtering of her kin. He could see that Tyelkormo's patience was running thin. A question like this could end their conversation in a very short amount of time.

'And how did your father expect us to follow him?' he asked instead.

'Not at all,’ Tyelkormo said. ‘Father mentioned something like this but I wasn’t really paying attention.’

It was very much like Tyelkormo to not pay attention and that was not what surprised Nolofinwe. It was the fact that Feanáro had expected him to turn back. Had he not told his brother that he would follow him?

"He wanted us to turn back?"

"Turn back, return home, well whatever. You hardly had any part in... what happened. They probably would have forgiven you."

We didn’t participate. They will forgive us, Nolo.

Arafinwe's voice rang clear in his head and Nolofinwe could barely hold back a flinch on his own. For once his brothers seemed to have thought alike and he could not disagree more with their notions. He was here for a reason and because of a promise he made. He could not just turn back.

It was then that Huan, who had been quiet the entire time and had been resting his chin on Tyelkormo’s shoulder, made a small noise, which Nolofinwe could not quite identify. Tyelkormo petted his head and nodded as if he had understood what his companion wanted to tell him. The uncomfortable look on his face vanished for a moment.

‘I know, Káno wanted us to be back yesterday…,’ he said, then he smiled a little. ‘You just want to see Tyelpe again, don’t you?’

Once again Huan made a noise and this time it sounded like agreement to Nolofinwe.

'You could come with me,' Tyelkormo then addressed Nolofinwe again and he looked like he thought this was a very good idea, 'if you want to talk to someone who is more informed than me.'

Preferably he would have liked the Feanorians to come, for then it would not have looked as if Nolofinwe would give in, but it seemed to him that this would take days perhaps even weeks and he simply did not have the time for this.

'I want to inform Findekáno before we leave.'

'Mhm,' was all his nephew replied and proceeded to scratch Huan behind the ear.

Soon enough they were on their way around the lake to the Feanorian camp. Neither Findekáno nor Turukáno had been particularly happy about Nolofinwe’s announcement but for different reasons as it seemed. Findekáno most certainly had hoped to accompany his father so that he could have a word with Maitimo but Nolofinwe had been clear that he needed his eldest son here to aid his aunt. Turukáno on the other hand had looked like somebody had served him a cup of sour milk as soon as the name Tyelkormo had left his fathers mouth. He was still grieving and full of hatred.

It was Findaráto who made them agree in the end as he promised to go along with Nolofinwe as a representative of the House Arafinwe. If he would have been able to have things his way Nolofinwe would have told this one of his nephews to remain behind but alas Findaráto could be just as stubborn as any of their family when he wanted to. Besides he also had inherited his mothers ability to become menacingly scary when he really wanted to bring a point across in an argument. Nolofinwe did not want this to happen.

‘I did know that grandfather was reluctant to use the ships,’ Findaráto remarked once Tyelkormo was done telling him what he had told Nolofinwe before. ‘They were treated like holy artifacts by many of the older generation, so it would make sense to have them on display and not use them. They fell apart, yes? I guess the wood here on these shores is not made to last forever like it did at home…’

Nolofinwe remained silent. He was vibrating with tension. The anger at his brother, though somewhat mitigated by Tyelkormo's words, was still boiling under his skin and he had to prepare himself not to explode the moment he saw him. He could just be as fiery as his brother if the occasion arose. Many would have doubted this because he put a lot of effort in his calm and put-together appearance. It was a trait both of them had inherited from their father although Finwe had been very good at turning his temperament into passion.

Nolofinwe bit his lower lip. No, it was still too early to think about father.

Carnistir was the one waiting for them once they reached the outskirts of the Feanorian camp. Nolofinwe noticed almost immediately that many of the buildings were in fact made from wood or stone. There were only a few tents left standing. The pathway they set foot onto was also made with stone. His brother’s people had not been idle in the last years.

‘You’re late,’ Carnistir greeted Tyelkomo unimpressed and with his arms folded in front of his chest.

His trademark frown was not missing either, yet there was something off about him but it took Nolofinwe a few seconds to realise that Carnistir had cut off a large chunk of his hair. Automatically he looked over to Tyelkormo and noticed the same thing. Both men's hair barely reached their shoulders now. He wondered what had caused this drastic decision, for it was very un-Noldorin to cut off one's own hair unless it got burned or otherwise stained in an accident. Neither Tyelkomo nor Carnistir looked like they had been in an accident recently but Nolofinwe did not know what had happened in the past years.

‘I would have been back earlier if Irisse hadn’t found me and decided to drag me all the way back to her father, so that I could have the conversation with him all of you are refusing to have,’ Tyelkomo replied.

Carnistir only sighed.

‘Discuss this with Káno if you wish to complain.’

This made Tyelkormo go silent within a split second. Findaráto and Nolofinwe exchanged confused glances. Neither of them could make anything of the conversation that was happening in front of them.

‘I see, well if you don’t have anything more to say,’ Carnistir turned to them and bowed formally. ‘Uncle, cousin, please follow me. He would like to speak with you in person.’

He started moving almost immediately and at a fast pace at that. They followed him as best as they could with Tyelkormo and Huan behind them. The way they were led through the settlement - because upon further inspection and observation Nolofinwe opted that it was in fact more a settlement than a camp - made them visible and unable to ignore for many eyes. Their presence was not met with hostility or any form of annoyance but rather with curiosity and calm acceptance. Nolofinwe did not know whether he prefered their rather passive behaviour.

‘Where are you bringing us?” Findaráto asked and caught up to Carnistir.

‘The community hall… well it is supposed to be the community hall but these days it serves as an infirmary.’

‘Neither of us is wounded…’ Findaráto said and Nolofinwe could hear the irritation in his voice.

‘Well that’s good for you,’ Carnistir acknowledged. ‘But this is also where he wants to meet you. His study is in one of the spare rooms.’

They were led through a side entrance of one of the larger buildings near the town centre. It was nowhere near as impressive as the buildings Nolofinwe had seen and grown up in all his life but it was rather admirable what had been accomplished with the recousers given to them. He should have expected nothing else from his brother. The room they entered was some sort of dining space with a large wooden table right in the middle surrounded by what looked like ten chairs. One for each member of the house Feanor, including Curufinwes wife and child.

‘Where is he?’, Carnister asked one of the guards hiding in the shadows next to the door. The man made a step forwards into the light and Nolofinwe recognised him as Makalaures confidant Erestor.

‘His study,’ the man replied in his usual stoic manner. ‘A report came in this morning regarding enemy movements in the north-west. He wanted to look into what he can do to keep the residents safe.’

The residents, Nolofinwe realised, were his people. They were the only ones living in the north-west - as far as he was aware. If there was enemy movement he should probably also keep his people prepared no matter what his brother planned to do to keep them safe. It seemed like a miracle to him that Feanáro was even considering this given that he had wanted Nolofinwe and his people to turn back and had ignored them for the better part of the past week.

Carbistir just nodded.

'I see,' he noted the news and turned to the others, 'Come. And Tyelko if you want to tag along, you'll have to leave the fleabag here.'

'You know Huan doesn't like it when you call him that, Moryo.'

'He's just a dog. He doesn't care about what I call him. He cares about what I feed him.'

'Say that when he starts chewing on your shoes again.'

Nonetheless he told Huan to go and lay down on a large rug on the north side of the hall where a small fire burned in a chimney, while Carnistir led them through a door on the opposite side of the hall.

The study they entered then was… a mess if Nolofinwe was completely honest. It was a battlefield of papers, documents, books and various other objects buried underneath them. There was not one empty chair, not one empty spot of floor aside from a small area by the door. The dark wooden desk in the centre of the room was no exception to this. Nolofinw had seen massive amounts of paperwork in his fathers study all the time but Finwe despite his faults had been a very tidy person and had kept them all neatly organised. Feanáro on the other hand had never seemed like someone who would keep things tidy - not the Nolofinwe would know this, he had not been allowed to set his foot into his older brother's study ever in his life.

But this was not Feanáro’s study. On the floor in front of them, bent over an especially important looking paper sat not Nolofinwe’s brother but his second eldest nephew instead. Makalure was dressed in heavy looking robes of red and gold but they fitted him ill for they seemed like they had originally belonged to his father and Feanáro was not only taller than Makalaure but also broader. Loosley they hang from his shoulders and Nolofinwe could not get out of his way to notice that his nephew was thin and boney underneath.

‘You own a table, Káno,’ Tyelkomo commented on his older brother’s app and waved his hand in the general direction of said object. Makalure looked up then with an unimpressed expression on his face.

‘Well in theory you are correct but as you may be able to see, it is not in a state where I could use it.’

‘You could if you would keep things tidy and organised,’ Carnistir then said and started picking up some of the papers close to them. ‘Didn’t the Ambarussar volunteer to craft you some shelves from the wood that was left from building the watchtower in the south?’

Makalaure nodded.

‘Yes they did such a splendid job that I thought it a shame to waste such craftsmanship on me. I ordered Narendil to make sure that they’re brought to the infirmary so that the healers would have a safe place to store their medicine. I think Curvo got one as well for his tools. You know that he leaves them lying around everywhere otherwise,’ Makalure said and then he turned towards Nolofinwe and Findaráto who had listened to their exchange in silence. ‘Uncle, Findaráto, if you’d like to sit down I can only offer you the chairs by the window. You might want to remove the papers from them though…’

They did no such thing.

Makalaure looked back and forth between them and his brothers for a moment. Carnistir had proceeded to pick up some more papers from the floor, quietly fussing over how such important documents were left to fly around. Tyelkormo had stepped up to one of the windows and pulled open the curtains, allowing natural light to reach the small room.

When they had all not spoken for a while and the silence was beginning to get a little uncomfortable, Findaráto spoke for the first time:

‘Káno... where is...?’

‘Father?’ Makalaure interrupted him instantly, ‘you were expecting him here, weren't you?’

‘To be honest, yes…’, Nolofinwe pressed out. Carnistir and Tyelkormo paused in their work, exchanging meaningful glances. Makalaure sighed.

‘Well..’ he said, looking him in the eye, ‘then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Father is not available at the moment.’

‘Is he absent?’ asked Nolofinwe with a little more emphasis. Didn't they say they were going to take them to the king? Was he being made a fool of?

‘You could say that, yes.’

‘And Maitimo?’

This time Makalure remained silent for a long while. He had closed his eyes and Nolofinwe could see how the hand holding onto the papers was slightly shaking. When Findaráto looked questioningly at Carnistir and Tyelkormo both of them avoided his gaze. In the end Makalure slowly came to his feet. He handed his papers to Carnistir and then proceeded to fix his clothing so that it looked less ill-fit but still a little big on him.

As he then stood face to face with his uncle Nolofinwe could not help but notice that Makalaure was not only thinner than before but he looked tired, too tired. Whatever had happened had drained Makalaure to a point where it seemed like a miracle that he was still able to stand upright.

'Maitimo is also not available at the moment…’

‘Is he dead?’ Nolofinwe came straight to the point.

Makalaure swallowed but then he shook his head avoiding his uncle's eyes.

‘We don’t know. It… it was shortly after our arrival that we received a message from the enemy which said that he would be open to negotiate. I do not know the details, Maitimo kept them for himself but he rode out to meet with an envoy… and did not return. It was many days later that a messenger came telling us that everyone is dead and he brought a bloodied strand of Maitomos hair as evidence. I would have gone after him but he made me swear to remain behind and take care of our people.’

‘So you do not believe him dead?’

‘I would have felt it, uncle,’ Makalure answered. ‘Just like with grandfather… I didn’t feel anything like this this time around. It must mean that he still lives.’

And I am unable to help him.

He did not say this out loud but Nolofinwe could see it in his eyes. The oath Makalaure had to swear seemed to only increase the guilt he must have been feeling.

‘Káno… perhaps you should,�� Carnistir said as he balanced another stack of papers on the desk.

‘No self-pity I know,’ Makalaure answered but it did not seem like this was what Carnistr had wanted to say. Yet he straightened his back and put on a brave face. He even smiled a bit at his uncle and Findaráto, ‘If there is anything you need please tell me, I will make sure that we will spare what we can and have it delivered to your side of the lake. In the same manner I wish to apologise for not reaching out earlier. The last few days were rather troublesome…’

‘I would have to look at Turukáno's lists of supplies…’ Findaráto said and looked past Tylekormo out of the window.

‘Medicines,’ Nolofinwe said, thinking of Lalwende, who desperately needed something for her leg if she didn't want to lose it, ‘and bandages.’

Makalaure looked at Carnistir.

‘Come, cousin,’ he said to Findaráto without being prompted any further, ‘I am in charge of our supplies. We will see how best to manage the matter. Tyelko can help too. He knows about the best hunting grounds in the area and will surely be able to give you some advice.’

Makalaure watched them silently as they departed from the room and when the door closed behind Tyelkormo he turned to Nolofinwe.

'Do not apologise for your father's deeds,' Nolofinwe said before his nephew even had the opportunity to open his mouth. 'I have heard why you didn't send back the ships. I wish to hear what your father has to say in his defense and whether he feels sorry for it or not.'

'Then you will probably never get an answer,' Makalaure said gravely. He pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to the second door in this room, left to where he was standing 'Come, uncle I will show you something. Maybe then you will hear my apology.'

Nolofinw was not sure what he should expect when he followed his nephew through the door and into a barely lit hallway. The voices of Carnisti, Tyelkormo and Findaráto could be heard from down the hall, where somebody had left a door slightly ajar. Makalaure did not lead him in that direction but the opposite one and up to the next floor. Like the one downstairs this one was only sparsely lit but at least there was a window on the far end of the hallway from where silver light shone onto dark wooden planks. They made creaking noises even under the light elven footsteps. Nolofinwe flinched the first time he heard that noise.

Makalaure walked down the corridor at a quick pace, unmoved by the creaking wooden floorboards. He seemed determined to waste no time to get to their destination. Nolofinwe followed him in a similar manner once he had gotten used to the unsettling noise from below his feet.

Once they reached the window Makalaure halted and looked outside. Nolofinwe glanced over his shoulder and saw Curufinwe training with his son in the courtyard. Tyelperinquar had grown quite a bit since Nolofinwe had last seen him but even though he and Itarille were around the same age the boy looked less mature than Nolofinwe’s granddaughter. It seemed as if his childhood innocence had somehow been preserved in these wild lands.

It made jealousy boil inside him but he was quick to suppress it. Tyelperinquar had no fault in what had happened. It was a good thing that at least one child of their family was still child enough to smile and fool around. Maybe one day Itarille would find the strength and happiness to smile once more.

‘You did not bring me here only to watch your nephew train,’ it was not a question or at least it did not sound like one as the words left Nolofinwe’s mouth. He was not quite sure himself whether he had wanted the words to sound as impatient and stern as they did but they seemed to bring Makalaure out of some kind of trance he had drifted into.

‘No… of course not, uncle,’ he answered and stepped past Nolofinwe in front of the last door in this hallway.

He turned the door knob around and pushed the door open. Nolofinwe followed him inside what seemed like a private sleeping chamber. It was better lit than any other room he had seen so far in this house including Makalaure’s study, which was mostly because the curtains had been drawn back and the windows opened to let fresh air inside. Aside from a wardrobe on the left side of the door the room contained a cupboard underneath the windows, an unused desk to Nolofinwe’s right and a bed, half hidden behind a set of curtains, which Makalaure was pulling back.

Nolofinwe did not need to ask why his nephew had brought him here. He could not make out the patients face but the way Makalure sat down on their bedside and took one of the heavily bandaged hands into his with utmost care and started to stroke it gently with index and middle finger was enough to tell Nolofinwe that this was not just somebody.

‘I’m here…’ Makalaure said quietly, almost in a whisper. ‘Please forgive that I could not make it this morning. I heard that Ambarussar came to spend time with you.’

Nolofinwe carefully stepped closer to the bed until he was half behind Makalaure and could look over his nephew’s shoulder at the patient. It took him longer than it should have to realise whom he was looking at. The man's entire body, save for a few bits here and there, seemed to be wrapped in bandages and what little skin was left visible was burned and bruised and scarred. Half his face was hidden underneath some kind of paste and his eyes closed.

‘Feanáro…’ Nolofinwe whispered in shock once his voice had returned to him. Makalaure turned his head with a sad smile.

‘Father is unavailable at the moment, uncle,’ his nephew told him quietly. ‘It’s not as bad as it was at the beginning and he is slowly, ever so slowly getting better but it will take some time until he will open his eyes again. But even if he does there is no guarantee he will ever fully recover.’

Feanáro’s hand twitched in Makalaure’s hold. Makalaure turned to his father again and lowered his head ever so slightly.

‘It was only a few days ago, when you and your people arrived that he moved… it was just a twitch of his fingers no stronger than now but he moved. There… There was finally some sign of progress.’

‘How? When? Did the enemy?’

Makalaure gave him no answer but continued to absently stroke Feanáro’s hand. Nolofinwe did not press him. It seemed like this was not an easy talk to have and given the circumstances Nolofinwe was willing to accept this.

‘It was the enemy…’ Makalaure said after a while, his voice void of any emotion. ‘They had planned an ambush and even though we were able to fight them back there were many losses and many more who were gravely injured. Father had been at the front fighting against so many of them at the same time. He slew a large number of the Valaraukar - as Maitimo called them - but their commander was too strong for him. He landed a fatal blow mere minutes before we chased them off for good. At first it seemed like that monster had killed father but he kept fighting and breathing long enough for us to bring him to safety. He has been in this state ever since.’

Nolofinwe had to look away at that. He had no words, he who always knew what to say, who was known for his way with words, had none. All the anger, all the hatred that had been driving him the entire time was gone. The words he had prepared years ago, that he had memorized like a mantra, felt hollow now that there was essentially no one to address them at. He could tell them Feanáro but what use would they have? His brother could not hear him. He could not answer him or give him one of the awfully arrogant smiles.

As a child Nolofinwe had done everything to earn one of these. As a young adult he had learned to despise them. But now? Now, he would be lucky to receive a slight twitch of Feanaŕos hand. That was much more cruel than anything his brother could have said to him. It didn't compare to what his brother had done, of course, but it was pretty close.

'Do… Do you want me to pity him?'

Makalaure shock his head

'Believe me uncle I do not. He wouldn't want your pity and you know that. I wanted you to understand that the only apology you will probably ever get is my own. Will you accept it?'

'Your father wouldn't have wanted you to apologise,' Nolofinwe replied. Makalure made a low chuckling noise.

'But I want to apologise. It will not bring back the dead, it will not heal the wounded, it will not rewind the years you and your people spend on the grinding ice and it will not undo what has been done but maybe an apology can help to bring our people back together ever so slightly. We're all strangers in a strange land and as such we have no choice but to stick together. You don't have to accept me as prince regent and I will not demand to lead your people, all I want is a basis on which we can work on the way forward.'

'Very well,' Nolofinwe replied. 'I shall accept your apology… for now.'

'This is more than I would have asked for, uncle.'

They both remained at Feanáro's bedside for a while longer in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Nolofinwe avoided looking at his brother or his nephew and held his gaze fixed on the window.

A basis to work on the way forward. Makalaure had not specified what this way would look like and Nolofinwe was not sure himself. His people were bitter. They felt betrayed and abandoned and he could not blame them. He felt very much the same even after learning this truth.

All he could hope for was that his nephew's words had not been all empty. Makalaure was an excellent talker and sometimes it was hard to differentiate between honest words and acting. He did not believe that his nephew had acted but he knew that he should remain observant.

'Don't tell anyone of what I have shown you today, uncle,' Makalure asked him when they finally left the room.

'For what reason?'

'Father is in a bad state and I feel it would only worsen if he was confronted with the anger of all your people. I will bear this burden until the day of his awakening. Besides… I have reason to believe that the enemy thinks him dead and I would like for it to remain that way for as long as possible.'

'I see," Nolofinwe remarked. 'I will do as you ask but only if you inform me immediately should he wake.'

Makalure nodded seriously.

When Nolofinwe returned to his camp late in the evening to eat and maybe get some rest, still very much thinking about his brother's fate and his nephew's wish for cooperation, he was greeted with even more unsettling news.

Apparently Findekáno had vanished without a trace and only his harp in tow after being told about Maitimo's fate from Finderáto. All he had left them was a note telling them not to worry and that he would be back soon.

Nolofinwe thought of what had happened to Arakáno and prayed that his eldest son would return safely to him.

#fingolfin #celegorm #caranthir #maglor #finrod #finrod felagund #aredhel #feanor #tolkien #silmarillion #feanorians #nolofinweans #first age #lake mithrim #feanor lives #my writing #silm fic #apparently I misspelled finrods quenya name the entire time #it's finarato not finderato #:/ #it's the matimo maitimo situation all over again

[amethysttribble]

Thank you so, so much @zealouswerewolfcollector for tagging me in this fic-writer game! This was really fun!

How many works do you have on AO3?

20! What a nice, round number.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

456,632

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Like published for or scratched out a few words and left the drafts to die or wrote for then never published when I was 12? Very different answers for all of those.

Anyway, for publication, its Tolkien & fe3h, and then technically asoiaf and HP by virtue of crossover.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) From North to Uttermost South

‘The sons of Feanor are reborn in Westeros, and thus far this has not made things noticeably better for anyone.’

Hey. Hey. Hey, look. It’s my magnum opus. Chapter 18 is up. I’m really pleased with it. If you want to go take a look, I’d be much obliged. *tips hat*

2) The Best Timeline

‘Edelgard, Claude, and Dimitri end up stuck in a timeline where their lives went well. Shenanigans and dealing with trauma ensues.’

I need to update this. I know I do. Thing is, its for a much bigger fandom and gets way more subscriptions and kudos and hits etc. than my Tolkien stuff, but like half the actual engagement, and as I’m not as involved in that community (god forbid) I just don’t have the motivation. Doesn’t feel like anyone cares, though I’m sure people do. Oh well, I’ll update eventually. 

3) Arwen Sees Ghosts

‘Arwen is haunted by Feanor and his sons over the course of her life. This goes better than anyone could have expected.’

People really liked this one, which is good, because I like it too! Could use some clean-up, I wrote it really frantically during Feanorian Week 2020.

(technically Everlasting Song and My Brother, My Son, My Friend, My Kinsman, but they’re part of North to South so I’m not counting them)

4) Snapshots from the Life of Hubert von Vestra Divided into Three Distinct Parts

‘Exactly what it says on the tin, a character study of Hubie, my beloved.’

This one is good! I like this one! I would change some things, but I’m still proud of it! 

5) Feanorian Week 2019 (really?)

Self explanatory, my entries for Feanorian Week 2019.

These were the fics, originally published on tumblr, that I feel truly integrated me into the Silm fandom, and for that I’m always grateful, though I have long since moved on. I have better stuff on Ao3 that I kinda wish had gotten this one’s attention.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I couldn’t /not/ respond to comments. I have things to say! I must thank them! Engage with them! When I got my first comment I just had to say something, and then on, and then on, and that need to respond has never really gone away.

And honestly, I think responding to comments really encourages reader’s to comment! So, I’d always advise responding.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Turkafinwë, but the tumblr version, not Ao3.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Do I write crossovers- YES. I love crossovers, they are literally my favorite facet of fanfic. I mean, North to South is the obvious answer for craziest here.

Real talk, the one thing I miss about ffn was the crossovers archive sections, where all the crossovers were neatly available and you could tell your AUs from your proper crossovers. I’d love it if Ao3 ever implemented something similar.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have received consternated befuddlement about a few of my premises that I didn’t appreciate, but nothing that would qualify as ‘hate’.

Edit: still not ‘hate’ but goodness, I don’t care for this one person’s recent comments, what timing

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not to my knowledge!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Not sure I have one? Only one ship that really makes my heart doki doki came to mind, and I think I like that ship the way most people feel about ships they just like a lot. Anyway, narumitsu (Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth from Ace Attorney) is the only ship I’ve gone looking for content for.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The entirety of Everlasting Song. I have six (6) books planned and it took me three years to write one. Holy shit, I am dumb. I’m going to try, though!

What are your writing strengths?

I do believe I’m good at dialogue, I think I’m decently funny,  and I think I get into characters heads well. I am better recently at not getting bogged down in details.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Scene transitions, covering large swathes of time, and anything involving sex. I’m always trying to learn tho!

A few months ago actions scenes would be on here, but I think I’ve gotten decent at those.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Like every writing tool, I think it can be used well and I think it can be used badly. I don’t think you should write dialogue in another language (when it is likely to rob the reader of understanding) unless you’re trying to /say/ something while doing it. It needs to serve a purpose.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Like... ever? I wrote Naruto fan fiction when I was like 6, that would have to be the first. Actually published? Silm, crazily enough.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Everlasting Song saga, easily. 

Tagging @feanorianethicsdepartment, @iminye, and @eccentricmya! Please feel free to respond or ignore at your leisure!

#fanfic #Tribble Post

[faustandfurious]

Feanor for the ask (sorry I only ever ask about him)

it’s ok, i only ever post about him

Due to popular demand:

Realistic: When they tell him that Amrod was on the ship, his world shatters once again but this time there is nobody else to blame. Perhaps it is why he throws himself so eagerly into battle - as if the blood of a hundred enemies can wash away the despair that has taken hold of his heart.

Unrealistic, but funny: Doesn’t go to Mandos when he combusts. Instead he hangs around Beleriand as a particularly annoying smoke-ghost, sideeying Fingolfin hard at every opportunity.

Modern AU: Heir to a large company where Finwë is CEO, but isn’t all that interested in taking over; only wants to because he thinks it will make his father proud. Prefers to dabble with programming and engineering, has made major developments in AI and machine learning.

#feanor #answered #addicted-to-12th-intro

[blankdblank]

My Pearl Pt 12

Tags –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars,  @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor, @thestorybookmistress, @abiwim, @here2have-fun, @onewithleaf

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - 

…

Your shift was over and back through the main house you were led by the hand straight to Thorin’s bedroom. His grin spread and straight through his closet doors you followed him to the wall of shoes in cubbies his hand landed on as you eyed the ten by ten room with suits and clothes organized by occasion and color with an island in the middle. With a firm nudge it eased back revealing the fifteen by ten bare portion of the massive closet. In a low purr his arms circled you, “See, plenty of room. We can set it all up,” a distant doorbell sounded and by the boot steps entering the front door you heard the boys entering to help with the move.

Easily they moved your clothes as Thorin handled the transfer of your lingerie and hamper as you moved your toiletries and the toys Thorin had stashed inside your nightstand while the boys were distracted handling your trunks and shoes. Lastly as Thorin ensured your closet was properly organized you transferred the food left in your fridge and pantry to his, soon joined by the others to finish the job before they hugged you both tightly and raced off home for their own late date nights.

Nipping at his lip Thorin showed you back to the closet beaming as he noted the setup was much more pleasing, while it mirrored his, with your fancy dresses for special occasions right up against his best suits. The sight only widening his smile even more, imagining readying for the awards show in four days right beside you, topped just slightly by your stop in the bathroom after.

Across the usually empty spare section of counter you had set up your things around the spare sink. A simple few items, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss and mouthwash with a box for your makeup all but made the giant of a man squeal with joy knowing you were settled fully into your home together.

Barely shy of married already in his mind and while you stripped into your pajamas he rushed off to prep a snack for you both he brought to the shared bed. Another romantic night in one another’s arms for a spur of the moment date idea leading into a morning trip off to Dis for your weekly womanly tea gathering while Thorin gathered with his male relatives for a brunch of their own. Another night was spent with you lovingly wrapped in Thorin’s arms and listened to his plans for the night after the awards show was over eventually falling asleep in his arms.

The waking up after came abruptly at the frantic continued ringing of your phones at the news of the early morning release of the Feanorean magazine’s release. Irritated beyond belief at being torn from sleep you squinted at the screen of your phone at the string of messages. Each text message were from your brothers sending you messages to check your email account. A couple taps of your fingers and you felt Thorin wrap around your back resting his chin on your shoulder eyeing the screen as you flipped through the copy of the magazine you were emailed.

The front of the magazine a picture of you taken from one of the days you spent together, just a simple picture with you in a sweater with curls pooling over your shoulders as you smiled softly.

The first page you translated for Thorin as it was written in Old Quenya, starting with your history and education next, not skimping on your ties to your Grandmother and the others in the Bakers Dozen.

The third to last working your accomplishments and your future, not so subtly hinting that those from Valinor displaced by the wars won’t be down for long. You would find your own places and rebuild your cultural mark in the culinary world again. All together a hopeful message only adding to your place as a symbol of a new future for yourself and your people.  

The final two pages delving into the meal you had served him complete with pictures and thorough descriptions. His final summary praising you on how you had improved your family recipes and a hope to see your own creations in the future ending with a bolded 3.5, a solid middle ground between what your brothers and the public wanted.

Setting the phone down you couldn’t help but let out a squeak and giggle at Thorin’s arms tugging you back to your former spot trailing his lips across your cheeks. “I am so proud of you.”

Giggling again you rolled onto your back easing your arms around his back at his lips finding yours. Easing back his forehead pressed to yours and you lowly replied, “Not that I don’t love celebrating with you, but we only have a couple hours until we have to get to your show.”

Chuckling lowly he eased onto his side wrapping you in his arms kissing the top of your head, “We can sleep, my Dearest. Though no doubt we most likely will be getting company for breakfast.”

Nestling closer to his chest you yawned back, “As long as there’s waffles and a hash scramble with a spicy omelet they can all show up.” Grinning widely he tucked his arms around you closer and he shut his eyes.

.

Breakfast was crowded and filled with excited chatter and as talk of what they could do to help out the other female chefs and bakers while you focused on your meal and Bombur’s little girl snuggling against the blanket draped over your shoulder to protect your blouse from her drooling while she slept. It didn’t take long for the house to clear as time neared for the show and carefully the infant in your arms was traded back to her father’s arms with a promise to bring her by later for the dinner they had planned.

.

The crowded studio was filling and as you climbed out of the car you eyed Feanor in the distance. A grin spread across your face and when you reached him you were folded tightly in his arms, at his side you remained under his arm on the walk inside. Through the main entrance you passed through then halted seeing the dark haired tanned and scarred Elf with a his son and a group of fellow scarred and serious Elves all clad in suits.

At your pause Thorin froze with Dwalin behind him watching as Feanor’s arm moved in front of your chest and he tried to guide you behind him back towards the doors silently urging you to run.

That action didn’t go unnoticed as the group and those behind you that you had missed all drew shining poison dart guns they aimed at all of you. Harshly Thorin and Dwalin were torn away from you while one of the men behind you split you and Feanor up and pushed you towards their leader.

Stoically he stood, straightening up with his gun aimed at Feanor’s head while five more circled him holding him back. In a low tone he plainly stated, “I am here to speak my piece and then I will leave. I have no intentions of harming your granddaughter any more than I already have.”

His eyes turned to you and to silence the Dwarves you named him to show them who was behind this, “Eol.”

His head nodded and he looked over your straight expressionless face that had haunted him for centuries while he holstered his gun in his jacket, “Miss Pear. I have committed great atrocities, killed Kings, Princes, brought about the fall of great nations, and yet you are the only one of my targets to survive my plans.”

Your lips parted slightly and your eyes narrowed for a moment as Feanor asked, “Why are you telling her this?”

Eol looked from him then back to you noting you were still holding your unfazed stance towards him then you said plainly, “Let me guess you’ve come to gloat on aiding Melkor and Sauron attack my family? If that’s the case your ego will gain nothing from sharing your past victories or plans with me.”

An impressed tick of his chin to the side stirred him to reply, “I want nothing from you past a few moments of your time. I am aware of what you must think of me. Though I must admit some, of my previous plots weigh heavier on me than others, yours above them all.”

“What plot of yours concerns me?”

His hand moved to his collar loosening his tie and the top button on his shirt revealing Namo’s mark stretched around his neck in his move to take off the chain holding a velvet pouch he removed and held out in his step closer to you. Far gentler than you would have imagined he folded his fingers around your wrist raising your hand to settle the pouch in your palm. “I murdered the Baker’s Dozen.” Before your eyes fell to the pouch he added, “Though I had planned for fourteen deaths. Yours included.”

At that your heart rate spiked and you watched his fingers untie the top of the pouch he reached inside with tears filling his eyes, “I have done terrible things, and yet attacking you was the worst thing I have ever done. I tracked you down to Orcarni and crossed your path, laced your morning tea.”

His fingers drew out a small ankle tag used by Dwarves on a chain with an Evanstar pendant on it that you had assumed had been lost in your time in the hospital, one that is traditionally given to Elleths at a certain age by their matriarch to welcome them into the female line fully. Lowering to his knees as he folded the tag and necklace in your fingers over the pouch he cupped your hand with his, “I had no idea you were with child.”

Breathing shakily you asked him, “You killed my baby?”

His eyes met yours, “I killed your baby. Somehow you survived the poison, a fact that does little to ease what I have done. And I do not expect your forgiveness, I know I will never be worthy of it. Even admitting that, through all I have done this act has rightfully haunted me each moment since committing it.” Outside sirens sounded and he held his gaze on you, “I am here to admit it to you first before I turn myself in. I have tried running from it, ignoring it. I cannot count how many times a blade was too dull, the nooses broke, the trigger jammed against my forehead. Even trying to leap off a cliff, I must face this. What I have done. My death will do little to ease your pain, but in the time I have left I wanted to, grant some closure possibly. Put a face to the crimes committed.”

Standing up he released your hand and his men lowered their guns and followed him out through the doors into the sea of officers. In a breath Feanor was at your side easing his arm across your back as his free hand cupped your cheek and he kissed your forehead as Dwalin and Thorin rushed to you asking, “What did he want?”

Your eyes met theirs while you struggled not to cry, “I didn’t just get sick, he poisoned me and killed Naule.” Their mouths fell open and they hugged you tightly each kissing you on the top of your head.

Feanor, “He came to admit it to her before he turned himself in. She was supposed to be the fourteenth female killed, but she survived somehow.” Sniffling softly you inhaled and exhaled shakily then lowered your eyes to the ankle tag you smoothed your fingers over before tracing your thumb against the Evanstar necklace that glowed double at its return to you. Opening the pouch you looked at the other Evanstar charms and found your Grandmother’s you held by yours then went to search again and brought out Miriel’s you passed to Feanor he held in his palm and stroked stirring a glow in it.

“We have to give them back.”

Feanor nodded sniffling as well, “I’ll make a few calls. Ask them how they want to claim their pendants.” You nodded passing him the pouch he slid in his pocket while Thorin eased his arms around your middle eyeing the pendants and tag between pecks on your forehead. Glancing up you spotted the Durins filing out after getting the all clear from security the Elves had been taken away bringing them all to you to hear what had happened before you convinced them you should keep the show up.

A nudge from your hand guided Thorin back towards the door, “Come on. I’m ok. Let’s do the show.” At his next growling exhale you cupped his cheek and kissed him sweetly, “Come on. He’s going to face up to what he did. We have to keep going.” His eyes tried to leave yours and you shifted to remain in his view, “Thorin, trust me, he will keep his word, just wanted to admit what he did. If he wanted to hurt us he wouldn’t have come here. Prefers stealth. Please, we have to keep going.”

Again he nodded finally feeling his heart calming seeing another act proving your strength of yours, to face such a corrupt man so steadily with guns drawn knowing exactly who he was and what he’s done first hand even more than the Durins ever could. Leaning in he stole another kiss understanding just like Feanor remaining still was the best they could have done to help you.

He turned easing his hand across your back guiding you into the filled stage where your calm demeanor easing the chains and your ring into your pocket calmed the other even more. A few words were traded for comfort to rally the mood back up for Dain to start the intro, making sure to comment on your new rank stirring cheers from the unknowing crowd in the stands above.

.

The show went smoothly and Feanor stood beaming from the sidelines the whole time seeing your jaw dropping dessert he got to steal a taste of after the judging was through widening his smile at you. Back at your house he joined you on the couch admiring the young children climbing onto your lap sensing you had a hard day and needed extra attention at how the adults were acting around you.

Under Feanor’s arm you snuggled as he shared what he had heard from all the relatives to meet up with them when he got back to Greenwood after the news had picked up the story about Eol’s confession with that of his son’s own confessions and those of his men. All choosing to face up to what they had done, though it mattered little to the Elves what time they would be convicted to when full view of the marks around their necks had been explained meaning they were facing something far more excruciating from the Valar witnessing their crimes.

Thankfully the press chose not to over publicize your son’s death sticking to the fact you had been poisoned and had managed to get help in time to save you. Shipped off to an Elven prison you could feel the shift in the air. Already the climate seemed to change as with a name to link the crimes to females in the culinary world pushed themselves out more, timidly of course but it only takes a tiny bit to start an avalanche. Sure enough more would join in stepping up again out of the shadows of these painful wars.

.

The next day Feanor had to head home again but after a tight hug and a promise to come back as soon as he could once the necklaces were returned back to the relatives they were stolen from. When he was gone Thorin and his family made sure to crowd around you for a family day leading up to your flight out to Rivendell that night.

Pt 13

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

[sorrowslament]

Okay I just cringe whenever I see Maglor portrayed as a much softer person than anyone else in his family. Like dude did you even read the same book? He was one of Feanor’s sons, and yeah he supposedly was most like Nerdanel do you really see her as a shrinking flower? Also him always being indoors, he was part of the family and they were always moving meaning he probably got very good at camping and carrying his harp everywhere.

Just so many common portrayals get to me because no that does not fit him. He was just as proud as his brothers, just as good a warrior if not better than the rest at tactical planning, and him wandering the shores in regret seems so far off for him because he did not survive a dragon, three kinslayings, and at least two wars just to become a ghost haunting the shore wailing laments. He is his father’s son as much as his brothers and honestly I feel that even if you take everything else away from him he would live out of spite because if the world wants to kill him it had better be ready to fight for it.

#out from the shadows || ooc

[garden-ghoul]

of amroth and nimrodel

“special thanks to douglas adams for coining the phrase ‘long dark teatime of the soul,’ aka what I am trying to stave off by writing this; fuck teatime”

We’re starting out right with the immediate assertion that Amroth is no longer a son of Galadriel. His father is someone unimportant called Amdir, anyway they were both kings of Lorien. Is Lorien different from Lorinand, or not? Because I’m pretty sure Galadriel was the only king Lorinand ever needed. And she did end up in Lorien... at least if it’s the same place as Loth Lorien. (shrugs angrily)

So Amroth likes an elf named Nimrodel. She actually likes him too but she hates the race of Sindar because ever since they came back east we’ve had nothing but wars. She refused to even learn Sindarin, and spoke only Silvan, even after literally everyone else stopped using it. I bet she and Therinde would be great friends. She’s such a cool guy that she even has a river named after her! She lives all alone, with her river, until Moria falls and everywhere is covered with orcs; at that point she flees to Fangorn Forest.

But she can’t go in. The trees don’t like her. This seems pretty unusual to me, given that she is a Silvan elf and also like, the number one most peace-loving Silvan elf. What is ur deal, Fangorn.

Amroth catches up to her at the edge of the forest and they “held a long debate; and at last they plighted their troth.” That is the kind of engagement I like to hear. One based on long debates. So they are engaged! But they will not be married until Amroth finds a land of peace to bring Nimrodel to. He also needs to find an acre of land between the saltwater and the sea strand, no doubt. Is she gonna like, do any of the work or...? No, no, what am I saying, she’ll be busy making cambric shirts without seam or needlework.

Amroth vowed that for her sake he would leave his people, even in their time of need, and with her seek for such a land. "But there is none now in Middle-earth," he said, "and will not be for the Elven-folk ever again. We must seek for a passage over the Great Sea to the ancient West."

It’s just like the Very Wise Frog said, man. Violence is inescapable. Also Amroth don’t be a dick to everyone who depends on you just so you can get some!! You’re a king, act like it! Anyway, Am and Nim travel to Gondor, which is close to some haven or other where people are departing for Aman. Somehow they get separated (Tolkien couldn’t come up with anything good so he just pretended the relevant texts were destroyed) and Amroth ends up waiting on the Last Ship Ever Probably, trying to convince everyone to wait for Nim, who is definitely, definitely coming. This kind of story hurts me. Nothing is worse than knowing the person isn’t going to show up and having to wait for them anyway.

Am and company live on the ship while they wait, because they already packed everything up and they could be leaving any day now, seriously, any second. Before Nim has a chance to show up, though, a huge storm blows them out to sea. Just as expected, Amroth flings himself overboard and tries to swim back to shore. We assume he drowns.

The foregoing narrative was actually composed as an offshoot from an etymological discussion of the names of certain rivers in Middle-earth,  

Oh, thank goodness, I was starting to wonder where the linguistics went. We’d been five entire paragraphs without any, I was getting anxious. One of the legends about Nimrodel is that she ended up in the White Mountains and passed out by a river that reminded her of home, and overslept her scheduled departure date by several months. It’s unclear whether this actually has anything to do with the fact that the river was named Gilrain.

Leaving that aside! (says Chris) why was Amdir king in Lorien? Well, Celeborn had fortified it so Sauron couldn’t get across the Anduin, but after Sauron left he and Galadriel went to Lindon. This is surprising to me, didn’t think I’d catch Galadriel in someone else’s capitol. In any case that left Lorien kind of a ghost town so Amdir picked it up until he and his pittance of a company were killed at the Battle of Dagorlad (I think that’s the one where they chopped Sauron’s finger off). Oh there’s also something interesting--we note that the people who live in Lorien are Silvan, but have long been ruled by Sindarin princes (see: Thranduil). Smacks of colonialism. It actually says later that

Galadriel saw that Lórien would be a stronghold and point of power to prevent the Shadow from crossing the Anduin; but that it needed a rule of greater strength and wisdom than the Silvan folk possessed.

Elves. Are so. fuckn racist.

After visiting Amroth for a little while to learn what the Sorceror was up to and what happenings were happening in Mirkwood, Galadriel and Celeborn went to stay with their son-in-law Elrond in Imladris for a really long time.

After the disaster in Moria and the sorrows of Lórien, which was now left without a ruler (for Amroth was drowned and left no heir), Celeborn and Galadriel returned to Lórien, and were welcomed by the people. There they dwelt while the Third Age lasted, but they took no title of King or Queen; for they said that they were only guardians of this small but fair realm, the last eastward outpost of the Elves.

Galadriel is all right. I kind of am starting to like her as a person, where before I liked her as a walking natural disaster. Like I know that she was never actually that disastrous, but I was attracted to her power-hungriness. So she was a little disastrous, but she couldn’t really hold a candle to Feanor.

We divert our path to learn about a stone called Elessar, which was made by a leaf-loving smith in Gondolin. I think it’s cute how smiths... make... stones? That is really not the point of smiths. Elf-smiths, I suppose, do different things. Anyway this stone was green and had healing powers and if you looked through it you would see through nostalgia goggles. It belonged to Idril and then Earendil, so it ended up in Valinor and everyone was sad... until Olorin brought it back to give to Galadriel, so she could make Lorien pretty again! He prophesies that she will one day meet a guy called Elessar who she should give the stone Elessar to.

The other story about Elessar’s origin is that Galadriel commissioned it of the smiths of Eregion because she was tired of “autumn” “existing” and “remembering that stuff dies” “including all her siblings” but she’s too proud to ask forgiveness of the Valar so she can go back to Valinor; so she wants to solve the problem by magic instead. So Celebrimbor made Elessar II, which was slightly less good than the original because of Sauron’s atmospheric pollution/messing up the ozone layer/what-have-you.

Eventually when she gets the ring of water she’s like “oh wow this is way better, it’s not like it was made by the same guy and also Elessar was specifically made for me to do a specific thing!” So she gives Elessar to her daughter, who gives it to her daughter (Arwen) who gives it to her boyfriend (known by many names, apparently one of which is Elessar). Doesn’t say what they did with it.

#AHA lorinand and lorien *are* the same place #silm #fucking long teatime. worst four hours of every single day.

[blankdblank]

My Pearl Pt 11

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 -

Use of Into the West song from LotR

Tags –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars,  @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor, @thestorybookmistress, @abiwim, @here2have-fun, @onewithleaf

…

Tying his hair back Feanor’s eyes drifted off from his reflection in the window of the train heading off towards Erebor surrounded by his sons, all of whom were nearing their tens of thousands of year old marks. And his grandson Celebrimbor nearing five thousand while you were just barely past halfway to a thousand being the baby of the bunch making your uncertain fate all the more terrifying. He had known your grandmother his entire life and had only made his true feelings known and been able to love her fully for such a short stretch of time. Since the day you were born he had clung to you instantly as his own as did all his sons who were all so eager for a baby sister after their mother had passed carrying theirs in a plane crash from visiting her family. Most of his half siblings and their children had fallen in the Wars of Wrath making him cling to the hope you had survived it all somehow out there on your own.

Centuries he had waited and carried the weight of the loss of his grandson, your twin, with his children as you most likely bore it alone, only having learned of it through Glorfindel in a passing meeting with Amrod and Amras in their tours of duty before retiring, centuries after it had occurred. Their only word was from the couple until you had lost contact in the battle Orcarni fell into with the Easterlings remaining from the attacks on the Beleriand survivors who had fled to their seaside borders. Another war had found you and it only worried your remaining family all the more as to what it meant for you.

He could remember it clearly, the phone call that changed everything. Three rings in a struggle to climb over his couch from a race out of the laundry room Feanor’s hand found the phone recognizing Ecthelion’s ringtone. “Echo.”

A weak chuckle came through the line followed by the long awaited words, “We found her.” With parted lips Feanor listened to all that had been witnessed in your brief pass across the screen on the Durin cooking show.

For Thorin’s day you had been seen aiding in passing out supplies and on a stop at Frerin’s show. Which was more about groups of chefs being instructed to complete recipes with random ingredients, missing tools or just a vague description of what the goal was, where you sat in once as a last minute host when Dain had been out for an appointment. Those between Diaa’s own show she shared with Bombur and Bell for baked goods you had yet to find a place on.

The appearances were taped and sent out to Feanor, who grinned at your near unstoppable giggles on Fenrir’s show when you assumed the camera was off you at the exasperated chefs while in Thorin’s from across the room your eye rolls at his recipes stirred laughs from your family in their huddle to catch flashes of you. It wasn’t long until another call came through at an actual meeting with you.

.

Echo, “Feanor, we managed to get into town and get a table. Right at the end of the shift.”

Anxiously he asked, “Did you see her?”

Cheerfully he replied, “Even better, we managed to linger around long enough to see her helping to clear up after her shift in the kitchen.”

“She’s cooking?”

“I’m not certain. The sauce was Gran’s recipe, but the chicken and veggies were off. She’s at least having some say back there. Maybe still at the dicing counter.”

“Is she looking well?”

“A bit tired. Though when she spotted us she came to sit with us.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He let out a weak chuckle, “We learned something. Dwarves have a sort of, protectorship relationship called Patron and Pearls. Thorin Durin has apparently gained her approval to be her Patron.”

“Patron?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to be a way to help those with great talent in need of a financial nudge or a set of connections the Patron can grant the Pearl.”

“She seems pleased with the, arrangement?”

Echo chuckled again, “I doubt it will remain a simple contractual relationship for long with the raised tone in her voice and the jealous glare from him when he saw us hugging her.”

“He makes her happy then?”

“Well, I can tell she’s a bit reluctant to relax fully into a relationship just yet, though she does seem to care for him. Plus, I think us being around again we can ease her into it. We got invited to her guest house on his property for dinner ‘anytime we wish’ her words exactly. She can’t wait to meet the girls.” He paused then added, “I’m not certain she remembers everything about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just a comment she made about Glori and I being the last of her relatives. She was just a little thing when you were together. We brought up her kidnapping you and Glori mentioned calling you out to test her and she seemed to not imagine she’d be a tempting enough reason to travel that far. She speaks of you fondly so there’s no anger there that we can tell.”

Feanor’s lips parted, “Perhaps if she’d known, she would have contacted me sooner.”

“Exactly. She would have clung to family.”

“Well, we will just have to make up for lost time. That house Glori mentioned on your block, send me the address. I’m not going to stay out here in Lindon when my Little Pirate is out living with the Dwarves in Erebor.”

When the call had ended another set of calls were made and all sons were packed along with him by the end of the week ready to move into the large plot of land with a main house and four guest houses on the land. Their magazine at least granted them a great deal of mobility and with most of their workers already having moved out to Greenwood they had set up a temporary hub there and could now settle there as well. All had been finalized and now it took nothing but to wait for the first chance to see you again.

.

Code word was given and at his table alone he sat consulting his notes on the meals your Gran had made him through the official and unofficial tests wondering just what you would put in front of him. Each one reforming in his mind and each delectable taste flooding back to him along with your attempts making his eagerness grow at what you could have learned and grown on since your childhood.

The first meal was set in front of him all but drawing him to tears, a struggle he withheld at the mirror image of the first dish on your Gran’s last test presented to him. Simple rice dish with veggies and squash with some bacon rolled up. Expecting an exact copy he filled his spoon only to pause at the nearly moan inducing meal. The explosions of flavor mixed with the warmth perfectly topped by the veggies and bacon slices. You had truly been practicing in you time apart he thought while jotting down his notes on it.

Secondly the same hideous dish was set before him and his face sank into a scowl once again. He knew this dish and even with its deceiving look he knew he would love it, because he knew you had learned it from her and improved upon it. Again you had surpassed her and in the wait for the third course his eyes welled up with tears and a single tear let loose when he set his eyes upon the dish.

This final cake, she had been so proud of it, because it was all yours. She knew you would surpass her and take what she had to a greater height and with the cake you had imagined a recipe up from scratch he had all but given you another two honorary Sils right there. “Am I going to have to tie you down to taste it?”

That single grin drew a long overdue chuckle only you could stir from him. His baby girl snacking on an identical cake to his. The hardest struggle of his life was to not throw the table aside and wrap you tightly in his arms. So he sat still remembering to complete his test, not letting his emotions or reactions show until his notes were written down.

You were on your feet and he couldn’t wait anymore. Tightly he held you in his arms ignoring the people peering on and the Dwarf pitifully trying to sneak behind you. An invitation was offered and he jumped on it treasuring his evening with you until he finally had to return, leaving you with a ring he had hoped to give to you since the moment of seeing just how you looked at Thorin in his sights. Terrified and in love he knew he had to help you ease into this next step, fully knowing just how terrified he was after losing his first wife to try again, even with his One.

…

Maehdros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthis, Curufin, Amrod, Amras, all of your Grandfather’s Sons had been named and in the sea of Durins they showed Callie, Curufin’s wife and their tall son who joined Echo and Glori’s girls in the spacious back yard at their tugs on his pant legs. A basic stew was set to boil on the outdoor stove while a pair of bags were set up on the table they had set up to hold everything needed. Each hand held a pack of beads with another filled with bells and bluebell strands for those you had lost. In a circle you all formed a line with leaf coated silver circlets on your heads.

Maehdros as the oldest was first, lowly the men began to hum an old tune as you all circled him taking a strand of hair you braided one of yours to. A nudge from Celegorm came as it began reminding you that as their step sister you were counted among their siblings and as the only female of their line you were tasked to sing.

Lay down

Your sweet and weary head

The night is falling

You have come to journey's end

Sleep now

And dream of the ones who came before

They are calling

From across the distant shore

When the braids were secured with a rune coated bead bearing their names above and below you would take your ceremonial pocket knives to cut your hair leaving the braid in the circled sibling’s hair before looping the cut strip up on top of your head inside the leaves forming your circlets. Maglor was next and on the benches the Durins watched your softly glowing family standing under the light of the setting sun pouring into the yard.

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You're only sleeping

Each sibling gave their cutting of hair until you were circled and they all smirked at your deepening grin as they added their braids to your hair as you wove a group of strips of your own. One for Naule and another for your grandmother with two for your parents and your paternal grandmother each bound by rune coated beads around a strand of bluebells ending with a bell.

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home

Feanor was circled next with the Parents turns. Another set of braids were traded between you, Echo and his girls before it was the turn for spouses. A not so subtle turn from Amrod and Amras brought Thorin over to your group finding his own rune coated beads for him to add his own braid to your hair he used your knife to slice free ready to proudly find that shorter strip in the future as a marker for his welcome into your clan.

Humming again you all, at the last light of day exited the home with silver Valinorian silken thread in hand while Feanor held the bluebells and final bells up as Glori held the lantern. Splitting in half your braids were gathered and stitched together then cut free, Echo removed yours and passed them to you, again as the female along with singing you were granted the right of forming the ship along with Feanor. Strip by multicolored woven strip you formed the silver boat along with the braided sections Feanor had formed while the rest of you finished your braids.

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

All Souls pass

More and more in your palms the boat came to being with bluebells and bells that filled it with a final set of securing strands attaching the lantern to the ship. Releasing the ship it dangled from the lantern that you and Echo circled and blew out matching breaths of flame lighting it and inflating the star shaped lantern suddenly wishing to be freed.

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

Grey ships pass

Into the West

At the final verses you released the lantern and watched it float up into the dark sky filled with bright stars. All eyes watched it soar up, joining dozens of others in the distance, and finally after all these years they found out what caused what came next. The stars over the lanterns grew brighter and the silver ships vanished while a bright star streaked across the sky. Every year unexplained shooting stars lit up the night sky in the moonless night. And as the Dwarves watched your tear filled eyes staring up at the stars the glowing specks coating your skin served as proof enough of your message of remembrance sent to those you had lost being received while the comforting light served as a reminder to keep going each day as you had since those devastating wars had ended.

.

Under the dancing and shimmering stars candles were lit for names and tales of your former homes to be shared with the Durins until midnight when they, all went to head into the guest rooms in Thorin’s home as midnight drew closer.

Changed into your shorts and a tank top you stood combing your hair with your fingers leaning against one of the poles around your bed stealing another glance out at the stars. In your doorway your eyes turned to Thorin in his approach, a soft grin easing onto his face as he lowly hummed out, “Hope you don’t mind, I turned around to brush my teeth and the girls are sprawled out across my bed.”

Weakly you chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for them to kick-,”

Nearing you his hand cupped your cheek warmly his lips met yours drawing your arms up around his neck in his move to lift you up with his other arm urging your legs around his bare sides above his sweats. Through a content hum from you he carried you onto your bed where he nestled you under him trailing his lips over your cheek to your neck purring, “Your family is welcome here any time, and seeing as it eases the chance for me to share a bed with you-.”

Weakly you giggled and eased your legs around his sides and legs some more, “It is a bit odd I suppose, not knowing whose bed we’re sleeping in.”

With a creeping grin he rumbled hopefully, “We could always simplify the problem and move your things into my room.”

Playfully you smirked back up at him, “Are you certain you could fit me in that closet of yours with all of those fine clothes of yours?”

With a deepening grin he rumbled back, “You haven’t seen my full closet.” You raised a brow, “That wall of shelves with my shoes actually slides back revealing the other half to my closet. I kept it closed so I wouldn’t have to see the empty half each day.”

“You really planned it all didn’t you?”

After a kiss on your cheek he nuzzled his head against the side of yours, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Giggling again you stated, “This house, setting it all up, the double sinks in your bath, large shower and tub, double master walk in closet.”

He chuckled, “Amad designed the home. She planed all our homes when we were old enough to live on our own. Wishful planning for our futures. Of course if you would prefer to remain here-,”

You turned your head to plant your lips on his stirring another pleased hum from him and when your lips parted you pressed your forehead to his, “I pretty much told your cousin we were on the way to being engaged,” tilting his head his lips met yours again for a quickly deepening kiss.

A steady palm slid along your hip guiding your shorts and panties down to be tossed aside at your hand dipping down under the waistband of his sweats that were easily added to the pile in his steady sink into you with a shared hum in the kiss you began. Wrapping around him his lips traveled over your neck and cheeks between low hummed Khuzdul sentiments from him.

“You do know I’m only getting half of all that, right?”

Chuckling again he purred between kisses across your cheeks as you calmed from your shared climax, “I assume you get the gist of it.” Making you giggle again, he kissed your lips again easing out of you to nuzzle against your chest holding you close to him, “What is the usual for breakfast after the celebration?”

“Omelets and pancakes usually.”

He nodded, “Then we will fix that, and when your family heads out again the boys will help us move your things into, our room.”

With another giggle you asked combing your fingers through his hair, “You are certain you don’t want to keep your own private space?”

“I don’t want private space. From my family perhaps from time to time, but not from you.”

Shaking your head you grinned at him after kissing the tip of his nose, “Who knew, under all those scowls was a giant softie.”

Chuckling deeply he rumbled back against your cheek after another kiss to it, “Each and every Dwarf alive. Our main element in fact. I am surprised you are just finding this out.”

His grin dropped as his lips parted at the tears looming in your eyes, “I know, I keep circling back to this. In Orcarni they were so helpful, with Naule, the ring, I always chalked it up to pity. Fleeing a war, alone, it never occurred to me after my ex and his family that anyone would actually be genuinely kind to me again.”

Warmly his hand cupped your cheek and he pressed his forehead to yours, “I understand. And now, we get to think of better things.”

“Auntie?” Softly the word carried through the guest home and Thorin hastily found your clothes you tugged back on and settled down beside each other as he found the remote for the tv in your nightstand he switched on finding a random film as the girls entered your bedroom.

“Can’t sleep?”

They shook their heads and hurried to your bed to snuggle with you both through the film after the youngest said, “We wanted to sleep with you and uncle Thorin.”

.

Around you the small bodies sprawled out over you as your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck in your huddled pile until an early morning picture was stolen of you and the trio was helped off of you to head to the breakfast.

A low chuckle came from Thorin in his gentle goading tugs into his arms to carry you to your closet to change. Through a smirk he watched you smooth the change of lingerie he chose around your hips soon covered by another pair of shorts and the same tank top before he followed you through your guest home to the kitchen in his.

Everyone had gathered up and you walked to Feanor’s side at his growing grin, beside him he drew back the empty stool you sat at as he tilted the notebook of yours he had found on his way to get the girls. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been stealing a peek at your cookbook.”

Weakly you giggled shaking your head, “I was meaning to ask you what you thought of the idea.”

He chuckled lowly, “All of these look absolutely atrocious.” Widening your grin, “I know this will be a hit. Quite a splash starting with an ugly cookbook. Anyone can put out flawless recipes, but to awe with an atrocious yet mind blowing recipe is truly a test of skills.” After a peck on your forehead he added, “When you get to a final draft print me a copy and I’ll send it to Irime.”

Weakly chuckling you tapped your finger on the open page, “Actually, this was the final draft. I’m not the best at the descriptions though, hoped you might help me with that part.”

He chuckled and nodded, “I will give them a read through. This first batch is actually quite good.” His eyes lowered and you glanced over to Thorin who was slicing some oranges for the girls climbing on Celebrimbor until you were called over to the oven.

Caranthis, “Sis, we need someone on pancakes, Curufin here likes his black.”

You giggled and twisted your hair back into a bun and you moved between the sea of brothers all grinning wider on the first family breakfast. Amrod handled the omelets and shared his own thoughts on your recipes he had seen while Feanor chuckled eyeing the Polaroid on the latest recipe and rubbed his face reading off what it was before showing it around, “I never thought she passed on this recipe.”

With a giggle you replied, “It was scribbled on a receipt in a Telerin cookbook she gave me.”

His brows rose, “You still have that?”

You nodded, “One Telerin, Doriathian, Gondolin and Beleriand, plus an odd little Noldor book on fifty obscure uses for arctic beets.”

Feanor chuckled, “No doubt all coded to add to each.” Making you giggle again and carry the full tray of pancakes to the table filling with Elves as you claimed the seat beside Thorin after he’d set it.

“I can show you sometime if you like.”

He shook his head, “I’ve seen them. I am glad they’ve been so helpful for your studies.”

After a sip on his drink he glanced at Thorin when he asked, “You were still coming to the Stone today?”

He nodded with a wide grin, “Yes. I am eager to see how Jaqi fits into the whole system.”

You covered your mouth saying, “I’m mainly on desserts now.”

Caranthas, “Yes, we heard about your weekly menu and what a buzz you stirred up.”

Curufin chuckled while Maglor added, “There’s quite a betting pool on what you’ll earn from Ada’s first test for you.”

Curufin, “Public polls in Greenwood are at a hopeful four.”

Maedhros, “We are all hoping for at least two.”

As you rolled your eyes and Thorin asked, “I do have to ask, how publicized was your marriage?”

Feanor grinned at him saying, “If you are inferring to implied nepotism, I assure you though our marriage was gossiped about, and even if confirmed hundreds of chefs and bakers,”

Amrod/Amras, “Including us,”

Feanor nodded, “Including my siblings and sons have been tested and can all answer to how strict it is. The only expectation is towards Jaqi living up to her Gran’s reputation. Already her skills are publicly ranked, that spot on your show, those three judges, Celeborn included can attest to her unrivaled skill so far.”

Maedhros, “Even he is hoping for a five personally.”

Thorin couldn’t help but grin, “He only has a Sil and a half, why would he want her to have five?”

Feanor, “Because she’s earned it. Trained hard for it. Even with family recipes she is the only keeper of them and has given them her own twist. Even with the hundreds I’ve tested only twenty have been females, since,”

At his pause you added, “Since Gran and the other Bakers Dozen died a lot of females are still timid on accepting being ranked. If I get ranked and score high they are hoping it will be a symbol to get them to stand up again proudly.”

Glori, “Videos already have doubled on female bakers trying to imitate her dessert menu. Mostly under fake names, but still, it’s a start.”

Thorin wet his lips, “If you could get a list of female cooks and chefs we could add them to our list of guests on our shows.”

Feanor smirked at him, “I’ll see what I can dredge up as far as a list. I know with Jaqi on it they would love to.”

The longer you talked the more he was starting to see how tilted the scales had been forced compared to Dwarf standards and the conversation carried on into the change to head to the Stone as all but Feanor headed home after a bout of tight hugs and promises to return again soon. Around you the Dwarves, Dis and Diaa especially listened to ideas on how to possibly help things beyond just using you as a figurehead to help goad others out into the public eye. By nightfall with an awed Feanor on your right you went back to Thorin’s car and he wrapped you in a tight hug before heading back for the trip back to his place murmuring proudly he would see you the next day.

Pt 12

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr