#maedhros (somewhere) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

that-angry-noldo · 1 year

Text

Fingon arrives unannounced.

It's not that he's unexpected, not really - not when Maitimo ends his every letter with "I miss you" and when Maglor practically begs him to come because "if I have to hear another “Finno used to call me Maitimo” I'm going to snap and ride to Hithlum myself". So, no. Fingon is pretty sure his cousins expect him any time, it's just that he's unannounced, and the weather is dark and gloomy, and he remembers why he hates the harsh snows of Himring so much - even if they're inevitably warmed by his cousin's bright smile and brilliant green eyes.

Maedhros' stronghold greets him with grim walls towering above him, howling night, and very confused, very startled guards. They hurry to open the gates for him and his company; Fingon wastes no time riding straight to the castle, shivering under the cold rain and anticipating a warm welcome.

He's greeted by a startled Maglor - Valar's sake, Finno, you could have at least sent a message! - and can't help but laugh at his cousin's antics as they walk through the castle, Fingon's hands still cold and his cheek red.

"It's good to see you again, Kàno," he says, placing a hand at Maglor's shoulder and smiling. Maglor huffs and shrugs it off, and Fingon grins again. "I'm sorry for arriving unannounced. You know I have little care for such things."

"Whatever," Maglor waves his hand, leading him through the corridors Fingon knows all too well. "You're here, and that's what matters. We knew you will arrive, so your room is warm and clean."

"I would use some warmth now. The weather outside is insufferable, Makalaurë. Why do I always visit during the winter?"

"I'll get some tea going for you, then. Are you hungry?"

"Not much. I'll survive this night, I'm sure."

They enter the room, and Maglor leaves for a moment, reappearing again quickly. Fingon takes off his cape, kicks off his boots and plumps into a chair, melting into the surrounding warmth; he opens his eyes at the sound of Maglor huffing, and grins at him.

"What? If you're making fun of me, at least do it out loud, cousin."

"Ah, it's just a memory - of how skittish you were when you visited first. You were afraid to breathe the wrong direction."

Fingon throws his head back and laughs. "You were none the better, Makalaurë! Besides, this place was so new, any stain was a pain to behold. It's more lived in now."

"Sure. Was your journey safe?"

"As safe as it could be in such times," Fingon sighs, and a shadow flies past his face. "I am here in one piece, and that's what matters. Where is your brother?"

Maglor rises from his place, walks to the door and takes a plate with two mugs of steaming tea from the servant's hands. "You know, you could have at least pretended you were interested in my company, Finno."

"Maglor," Fingon glares, and his cousin flashes a grin.

"Careful, I am still holding your tea."

"Give me that," Fingon scoffs. The cup is warm in his hands, and he sighs contently. His face softens. "I am glad to see you, though. I came here as much for you as I did for Maedhros."

Maglor shakes his head. "I'll pretend I believed that. Maitimo should return soon; the scouts spotted a small orcish group on the outskirts, and he wanted to deal with that straight away."

They sit for a while, enjoying their tea in silence. Fingon looks around the room again; everything here is done in Maedhros' uncompromised style, from wooden beams to soft furs to woolen blankets. His heart warms up; he might dislike harsh nature of Himring, but there is nothing he wouldn't trade for its simple and welcoming domesticity. He relaxes into the chair. For a second he wants to stay there forever, far, far away from any responsibility, far from his court and endless plotting and far from Hithlum, where everything feels cold and lonely and empty.

He sighs. Makalaurë squints.

"What bothers you?"

"Nothing."

"Mhm."

"That's true! Nothing bothers me, it's just - I'm tired, after the long way. Sure you understand."

"Of course," Maglor shrugs. "I do. It is a late hour - do you wish to rest?"

"Mmm. I think- I think I'd rather wait for Maitimo."

"Of course you do," Maglor smirks, and Fingon glares. "He'd sit by your bedside waiting for you to wake up if you didn't. He just loves you like that."

"Oh yes, he does," Fingon grins back, and leans forward. "Jelaous he's not waiting by your bedside quite as often, aren't you?"

"As far as I'm aware, I'm the one who lives with him under the same roof, Finno."

"And I'm the one who he sends letters complaining about that, Kàno."

Maglor glares, then scoffs and rolls his eyes. Fingon shakes his head.

"Well, since that's settled - what about you? You seem very... distracted, ever since I'm here. Do you have a new ballad on your mind? Should I tell my court to ready their tissues?" he throws himself back, winking to his cousin and taking a sip of his tea. Maglor huffs a laugh, and shakes his head. Fingon's heart stings with anxiety when he hears a bitter note to that sound.

"No, I don't think so, cousin. I don't plan to make it public, so your court is safe for now."

"Oh?" Fingon raises his eyebrows. "So there is a masterpiece coming. And what is it?"

There's silence. Fingon feels the shadows shift in the corners; unease settles into his skin, and he searches his cousin's face. Maglor looks down, his lips pursed, eyes sharp.

"A lament," he says, quiet, and Fingon takes a breath. Findárato, his mind supplies usefully. Findaráto, Findaráto, Findaráto.

"Of course," he says softly. "I should have known myself. I'm sorry, Kàno."

"Don't be," Maglor laughs harshly, and the wind outside howls. "I am coping quite well, if you wish to know. Maedhros, too. It was hard the first week. I kept trying to reach to him and finding nothing. I thought it was because of the distance before I- before I've known," Maglor sucks in a breath, shakes his head. "It never occured to me that he's- no longer- no longer alive."

Fingon looks away. "I'm sorry I didn't deliver the news myself. It was- a mess, to be sure. One day life was normal, and the other... the other day I recieved a letter from Orodreth, and- so much changed in the blink of an eye. I barely got the time to manage a word to you and Maedhros."

Maglor purses his lips. "Well. Time flies, people die. That's how it is."

But that's not, Fingon wants to protest, because he, of them all, should know - that's not, because one day you're laughing together and the other she is but a lifeless vessel under the ice, one day you celebrate the Sun and the other he lies in your hands, his heart not beating - one day you sign papers together and the other he dies, dies, burns together with your closest friends, and-

"Kàno," Fingon says, soft, and Maglor looks at him. "I didn't lie when I said I came here for you as much as for Maedhros."

Maglor, despite himself, forces a smile. "Maybe a bit less for me than for him."

"Oh, come on, I'm- Kàno!" Fingon throws his hands up in mocked rage. "I'm trying to be supportive here, and you- whatever. I- I have something you." He reaches back to his braids, black and gold, and undoes them, letting them fall on his shoulders freely. In his hand is left a thin golden hairpin - an elegant thing in the shape of a snake; he looks at it for a moment, then hands it to Maglor.

Maglor takes it, and his breath hitches.

"He gave it to me on one of my begetting days," Fingon says, then smiles weakly. "I thought - I thought I ought to give it to you."

"Finno-"

"I know how it is to lose a friend. And Finrod - he wouldn't object. I know he wouldn't." He smiles softly at his cousin. "I hardly wore it anyway. And, I know I said this already, but- I'm sorry. I truly am. None of this should have happened. None of us should have died, and Finrod - I - I never thought he would be gone so soon."

Maglor doesn't answer, still staring at the hairpin in his hands. Fingon watches him trying to collect himself, to come up with the words suitable, and shakes his head. "Maybe you should show me your lament, one day. I... I mourn him too."

"I can't find the tune," Maglor says, sharply, and Fingon is taken aback by his tone and expression. His cousin looks past him. "I can't find the tune. I can't find the words. They're there, but they sound bland. Empty. It's like - like I try to mourn someone who's still alive, except he's dead, and-" he takes a sharp breath, and his face pales. "Except that he's dead and I don't seem to accept it. I'm sorry, cousin, I don't know why did I react like that. I- thank you. For your gift. And- for everything."

Suddenly, Maglor frowns, then rises from his place. "Maedhros is here," he informs. "I can stop bothering you with my bland company." He strides to the door and openes it.

Whatever Fingon was readying himself for, he was not ready for a string of very deliberate curses that fall from Maglor's lips as something big and grey and wet storms into the room. "You rabid dog! You filthy animal! You- GET OFF FROM MY RAG, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF-"

The- dog? wolf? animal? - looks at Maglor with big sorry eyes, then shakes its fur. Fingon watches, amused, as pools of water start forming under its form. "Is- is this the werewolf you've been whining about all the time in your letters?"

The wolf circles the room few times, avoiding Maglor's grabby hands, stops for a second before Fingon, then whines and disappears as suddenly as it appeared.

"YOU PROMISED TO LOCK HIM UP, MAEDHROS!" Maglor's voice booms and echoes from the stone walls, and Fingon snickers at the absurdity of situation.

"I said I'd lock him up if he doesn't get any better," Maedhros says, walking into the room, and Fingon snickers again from how similar he looks to said wolf - soaked and grim, strands of wet hair sticking to his face. His eyes immediately fall on Fingon, and his feautures light up. "Finno!"

"Oh no, you don't get to Finno yourself out of this one! You-"

"Later," Maedhros says tiredly, taking his cloak off. "I'll lock him later tonight, I promise. He headed to your room, by the way. I recommend you check on him unless you want to sleep with a scent of wet fur on your sheets."

"You-"

Maglor storms out of the room, and Maedhros sighs. He looks in his direction for a few seconds, then shakes his head. Finally, his eyes fall on Fingon again.

"Finno," he breathes, smiling, and Fingon laughs.

#PART TWO OF THE REVEAL IS HERE WOOHOO #fingon #maedhros #maglor #finrod #werewolf au #silm fic #the next part is fingon & maedhros and then we should be getting somewhere #this is more of. a dialogue. that could've happened in canon too #anyways tell me what you think <3

97 notes · View notes

pearlescentpearl · 1 year

Text

rotating Maedhros and Dior in my head as princes explicitly named the heirs of their grandfathers who never managed to live up to that promise

#silmarillion #maedhros #dior eluchil #there's some rich ground here for fun things #somewhere in my wip pile is a fic where Dior angry speeches at Maedhros post-Nirnaeth before his brothers do #and Maedhros goes alright my depressed ass has found yet another #proud regal king to center my entire sense of hope around #Dior is the opposite of pleased about this #except when it obviously bothers the rest of the Feanorians then he's smug as hell #Dior is equal parts beauty and spite

179 notes · View notes

vorbarrsultana · 10 months

Text

i rarely read post-canon maglor fics because i'm tired of them being about him moping by the seashore or slowly going insane. give me maglor taking part in haradic la résistance. give me maglor meeting alatar and pallando and helping them. or maglor fighting the avari who fell under sauron's dominion, or maglor orchestrating a coup against one of the nazgul in the second age. basically, give me maglor saving himself

#i think my headcanon maglor dies in ME but it happens somewhere around war of the ring time #and he dies fighting on the side of anti-sauron rebels shouting 'aiya feanaro!' one last time #(alatar is there too)#and since he doesn't need much healing NOW mandos says something like /please go to your mom your wife and maedhros they have been waiting/#and maglor gets reembodied very quickly #(elrond is appalled that maglor somehow reached valinor ahead of him)#tolkien #the silmarillion #maglor

36 notes · View notes

isilwhore · 10 months

Text

#I apologize for the visual ugliness of this #I was just trying new style and made a wrong turn somewhere #note to self: redo when you can draw better #maedhros #Elrond #elros #the silmarillion #kidnap fam #silm elves #tolkien #silmarillion art

27 notes · View notes

lowcountry-gothic · 2 years

Text

Just watched this week’s Rings of Power episode (spoilers to follow). This is the first one I’m not wholly excited and pleased by. The whole “fading of the elves” thing...I’m not sure what to think of it. I’m glad Elrond didn’t break his oath, but the whole mithril as the elves’ salvation thing, and the idea that it holds the light of the Silmarils, and the whole Silmaril in the tree legend, it just doesn’t feel very Tolkien at all to me. I’m gonna wait to see what Corey Olsen and Kat Sas have to say about it before coming to any judgment, though. I’m holding out hope they can salvage something from this, since the idea of the fading of the elves is at least somewhat based on the idea of elves aging from The Nature of Middle-earth. It seems like a misinterpretation of this idea (aging is not the same as perishing), but at least there is that root in Tolkien’s own writing. And the idea of elves becoming stronger from the light of the Valar is canonical. I just don’t know. What is this fear even based on? The rotting leaves? I wonder why Gil-galad has come to this conclusion, rather than that it’s a sign of Sauron’s return? I just don’t know.

#text #mine #tolkien #the rings of power #plus where would the silmaril have even come from?#maglor threw his into the sea #maedhros’ is lost in the bowels of the earth somewhere in sunken beleriand #and the final one is with eärendil in space

8 notes · View notes

faerymergoat · 1 year

Text

Ok, hear me out: elves as 60's and 70's rock stars

Ian Anderson as Finrod Mostly because of The Hair and the eccentricity. I mean look at this performance! my favorite song by Jethro Tull by the way

youtube

Robert Plant as Glorfinderl The ultimate Golden God! Almost Famous is the best movie ever created.

(and I made sure to only use pictures in color for this so you can see the power of The Hair)

Consequently, Jimmy Page as Ecthelion The other part of the duo. Quieter and musically talented, though we're switching flutes for guitars for the sake of this post.

Ozzy Osbourne as Maeglin Oh come on... the Prince of Darkness! And all the creepy vibes.

Freddie Mercury as Maglor Kept thinking about "Maglor was mighty among the singers of old" and well... the answer was obvious

youtube

Is this the modern equivalent of the Songs of Power?

I'll probably add more later, these are the ones I could think about on the spot. I actually have a lot to do today, shouldn't be wasting time here, but alas! I'm a Procrastinator 👋 🤷‍♀️

5 notes · View notes

sesamenom · 23 days

Text

trying to figure out Lomion's relationships for the reverse gondolin au - so far I have Rog as his mentor instead of Eol and Celegorm as his "uncle". he's not particularly close with Idril, but Turgon helps him with the politics/statecraft stuff. anyways I can't figure out a marriage candidate for him for heir-identification purposes so

#silm #silmarillion #reverse gondolin au #not art #lomion #i dont really have any ship/sexuality headcanons for lomion #so idk who to stick him with #but he is the high king after all and does need somewhere for the crown to go in the case of his likely demise #maedhros can get away with zero children because he has plenty of brothers & cousins #but sadly lomion is an only child (or at least the only surviving child...?)#and by his reign most of his family has been wiped out #idril still sails in the au so she cant inherit #i think celebrimbor is the only close friend/family he has living after the destruction of gondolin??#celebrimbor def would not *want* to be king but i could see him taking the crown in an emergency #so that sauron/morgoth/whoever would focus on him and give his family/people time to escape #the lomion/tyelpe idea actually happened bc i was thinking about if he should be obsessed with the opposite cousin the au #since idril is like 300some years younger than him and they didn't meet until much later #and anyways they're even more cousins-removed than russingon so it should be fine right? lol #the other main marriage option im considering is giving one of the other Lords a kid #maybe egalmoth can have a random daughter somewhere in there?#i don't want to make it too much of a 'random person + random heir kid' situation #so maybe he can just adopt a kid? but then if he dies early the kid is too young #(bc he doesnt have a kid when idril arrives)#also gil galad is younger here to make the timelines work #anyways and if he dies early and his kid is too young but he's also not married and has no siblings then idk who would be regent #bc by the end of the FA i'm aiming to have turgon & aredhel dead; elwing & earendil dead/departed; tuor dead; and idril sailed #and then that leaves like nobody alive family wise #aaagh help me i have no idea who inherits after him #like. does celebrimbor have to be king for a few hundred years? he probably would sooner dissolve the formal kingship than deal with that #or do i throw it back at gil galad? how does gil even get to gondolin?? where does he come from

4 notes · View notes

allbycharles · 22 days

Text

Maedhros was checking the bills his councilors brought in.

"This does not add up."

"No your highness, but it was sent from his highness lord Caranthir."

"Did he say how on arda we made so much money with the taxes from the king going up this year?"

"He did not my lord."

.....

- Few weeks later -

"Caranthir what were you doing?"

"With what Maitimo?"

"With the damn money Carnistir, where did such amount come from?"

Carnistir paused to look at the ceiling of Himrings council hall. He then calmly looked on his clearly frustrated oldest brother.

"Why do you worry Tall One? Money comes, money goes."

Maedhros eyebrows rose seriously high.

"You plan for it to go somewhere too?"

"Yes...mainly not to Fingolfin."

The smile Caranthir suddenly had on his face when uterring those words took Maedhros back because Caranthir NEVER smiled.

Clearly unless there was a tax fraud.

-----------

@nighttimepatrons here ya go mellon

#silmarillion #tolkien #elves #caranthirs tax fraud #noldor #caranthir #maedhros #carnistir #maitimo #feanorians

144 notes · View notes

annoyinglandmagazine · 6 months

Text

I love the idea of Finweans being transported into Years of the Trees Valinor as much as the next person but you know what I think could be just hilarious for a crack concept? A Sinda being transported into Years of The Trees Valinor. Think Beleg, Mablung, Daeron or maybe even Thingol himself (preferably with no one knowing who they are) getting out of Mandos and into Valinor but they don’t realise immediately that this isn’t current Valinor.

Thingol sees Maglor Feanorian in the marketplace which is a shock already because why would he get out before him but he doesn’t even have the decency to offer apologies when he sees them, how dare he in fact wait a minute he’s waving at him? What’s going on here why is he being friendly, he shouldn’t be able to be that friendly after killing so many people? Does he feel no guilt?

Mostly though for Thingol’s world to get absolutely shattered at meeting Maitimo Nelyafinwe, who yes technically is Maedhros Feanorian but how?! He doesn’t recognise Thingol of course so when he notices he seems a bit shaken by something he’s all polite and considerate and guides him to a bench before clapping him on the shoulder reassuringly and fetching him some tea. With the two hands he now has somehow.

And he sits with him and tries to find out if he’s alright but Thingol’s too confused to run like his life depends on it (and since this is the infamous Lord of Himring it might) because what is he even wearing? That’s practically a gown, not one he’d want to see Luthien in either, he’s not even wearing armour or carrying a blade? And he’s still smiling and it doesn’t look even slightly forced and his hair is actually long, not normal long either it’s down to his thighs for goodness sake.

All hope of sanity disappears when someone who looks no older than 20, comes up to them and starts tugging on Maedhros’ sleeve impatiently, ‘Nelyo, Nelyo, I can’t reach the tools I need for a project.’ Why in all of Arda would a child be approaching Maedhros Feanorian for anything? Why would they not be running in terror and avoiding him at all costs?

Maedhros shot him a conspiratorial glance as if he’d enjoy being in on some joke with a kinslayer ‘That’s most likely a sign you shouldn’t be using them Curufinwë,’ Curufinwë as in Curufin, possibly worse than even Maedhros himself. Of course it was.

‘But Nelyo.’

He smiled apologetically and asked him if he was feeling well enough now. He assured him he was mostly to get him out of his sight long enough to process the interaction and Maedhros Feanorian beamed at him, ‘Alright then, just feel free to come to me if you need anything, I’m always happy to help and Uncle Ara is very good at giving advice if something’s bothering you if you’d prefer.’

Then he stood, making Thingol concerned enough about the loose swathes of material to look away as a precautionary measure (was this a seduction attempt? He’d never heard of the Lord of Himring employing such dishonourable tactics but did he really know anything anymore?) and swept the child who could not be Curufin into his arms spinning him around above his head until he was in fits of giggles, ‘Now how about we ask Ammë about your project and if she says no I can take you somewhere instead? There’s an exhibition on in the city you might like? Sound good to you?’

The person who has to have just stolen the face of the eldest son of Feanor walked off with the elfling balanced easily against his hip and chatting away. This must be a weird fever dream.

#silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #thingol #valinor #time travel #curufin #maglor #mablung #beleg

285 notes · View notes

searchingforserendipity25 · 1 month

Text

An old draft resurrected for @feanorianweek! Inspired by last year's Back to Middle Earth bingo board option - gift giving. Some humor and some angst. In which Maedhros is a defiant prisoner, but not the most infuriating of his siblings.

Gift-Giving

In Valinor, there had been certain expectations from musicians - the minstrels, those few that devoted themselves fully to the Song.

Every noble house ought to have one among their members, and the noblest the best; Maglor had been very obliging in that regard. Maglor had been the example to follow, the prototype, the trend-setter.

Maglor, Maedhros had thought even then, had chosen the Song as much as it had chosen him. For its own sake; and also so that he did not have to choose anything else less great and mighty.

Minstrels were for rites, time-keeping, celebration and beauty. Minstrels were for the blessing of the fields. Minstrels were an honour to their kin, and an adornment.

Beleriand changed things. In Beleriand, Song was power, and Songs of Power needful weapons used beyond the value of their beauty alone.

Unfortunately, kingship was also power, and not one that could lightly be set aside. Fortunately, Macalaurë had always been very able at managing a number of tasks, as long as he could accomplish them in the most impressive and aggravating performance possible.

For thirty years he ruled singly, second-born of a great house in exile, making Siege against one of the Powers, he that first Sang discord into the very matter and memory and making of the world.

Morgoth was besieged. Maitimo might be prisoner, hostage, slave and victim, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the manner of his binding.

Treachery there had been, and foolish anguish - but he would not have chosen other. He could not have chosen otherwise; and at least this time, when he suffered the consequences of one of his brother’s irreverence, there was a bitter pleasure in the paying of it.

No gift could be sweeter to him than the memory of the song borne over the great dark stillness of Thangorodrim. The voice soaring to the heights, saying,

HAIL DECEIVER, SACKER AND THIEF, FROM ANOTHER MURDERER: HOW IS IT TO BE LOATHED AND REGRETTED BY ILÚVITAR, THY VERY OWN KING AND FATHER -

“Alas for what you have wrought, fell lord,” called Maitimo Nelyafinwë. The laughter wound the chains more treacherously still on themselves, but it was worth it, and frankly necessary to defiance to laugh sometimes. “Once he is started, the true challenge is to close his mouth.”

AND KNOW THOU HAST BEEN MADE TO FAIL AND FAIL AND FAIL EVER AND EVER UNTO THE VICTORY OF THE HEAVENS AND INDEED THE FORCE OF ELVES IN WRATH AGAINST THEE -

Morgoth roared, and shock the mountain, and thundered at the skies.

There was a pause. The echo rang, and then the silence; it set, and settled. Morgoth’s immensity blotted out the stars, and grew to match his complacency.

Maitimo waited. His brother held passionately to a theory, regarding the counting of time in silence as a mark authorship, from which every composed could be identified with enough familiarity, and his thesis presentation had gone something like this:

Somewhere in the far, far distance, there was the familiar sound of a harp being strummed in a uniquely obnoxious fashion.

GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER THOU AVARICIOUS CUR-FACED DULL-WITTED CRAVEN -

For a moment, a terrible abyss of an instant, the full force of Morgoth's loathing filled the air in a silence made of many dimensions and many strains of incredulous rage.

“You heard him,” Maitimo said into it. Teeth-bared, words round and smiling in his mouth. “Cur.”

The chains were really quite dreadful, where they bit into flesh to lash the bones; but he wouldn't have said they weren't worth it, for the look on Morgoth's face just then.

#maedhros #maglor #morgoth #feanorianweek #the silm #silm fic #silmarillion #my fics

88 notes · View notes

nighttimepatrons · 13 days

Text

Not Without Maedhros

Thinking about a Fingon fic set in Mandos where Fingon is ready for reembodiment but won't leave the halls without Maedhros. Never mind the fact that he hasn't actually seen Maedhros's spirit yet...

The only way he can tell the passage of time is the influx of spirits into the Halls, the halls get larger to accommodate them all. Surely Maedhros is around here somewhere.

It's about Fingon being asked if he's consider Life again and he says he has, but he'd like to wait for Maedhros first. He does not want to leave without Maedhros.

More spirits enter and he waits.

When asked again he is indeed ready for Life but it is disturbing to him that it as taken this long for Maedhros to find him. So he reaffirms that he is waiting, he will not leave without Maedhros.

Spirits come and some start to leave.

The asking stops, and in its place he is told: "it is to leave these halls", "you have lingered long enough", "you can feel the yearning for Life in you, go on, it's time to go". He always says the same: Not without Maedhros, not withouth Maedhros, not without Maedhros.

It seems impossible, but the population of the Halls actually seems to decrease.

And yet he waits. He waits until all of his family has walked out of those great, beckoning doors. He waits as his fellow spirits dwindle around him.

He waits, until he is alone in the vast, silent halls.

#in my heart of hearts it is second person pov #i don't know maybe Miriel can show up #Fingon #maedhros #russingon #<- but only in a sad way #middle earth #silmarillion #mandos #i hope it obvious but yes mae is in the void #my art #my words #<- wow can you belive that me writing something that is awfully close to fanfiction in the year of our 2024 #the silmarillion #fic idea #at risk of sounding arrogant if anyone does like this idea feel free to run with it #i would love to see anything you make (*/ω＼)

75 notes · View notes

polutrope · 8 months

Text

The Third Kinslaying

A Silmarillion question that never ceases to trouble me, and for which I am not sure I will ever come up with an answer that satisfies me: What were Maedhros and Maglor’s justifications for taking Elrond and Elros after the sack of Sirion?

I know many people are satisfied with emotion-based reasoning, but that alone just doesn’t work for me personally. I read Maedhros and Maglor at this point in the narrative as very tormented, yes, but still capable of weighing logic and emotion at the same time. I also don't think the tone of the text supports outright villainy and ruthlessness (though that's a valid hc, especially from a non-Feanorian pov).

I’m not going to dive into my interpretation (I’m writing a fic for that), but I wanted to share the evidence and highlight what I think is the (Doylist) explanation for why the question is such a tough one to crack: None of Tolkien’s drafts covering this event* took the character of Gil-galad (or Círdan, though he was a character and not ret con'd like G-g) into consideration. He was simply not a factor in any of the versions published in HoMe.

If you’re like me and love the ‘textual archaeology’ of figuring out how the published text was derived (and since I bothered to type them all up) here are all the drafts of the third kinslaying alongside the published Silm. (There's good stuff in here for enjoyers of Elwing, Maedhros, and Maglor, too -- and haters of Amrod and Amras lol.)

*unless there are unpublished notes or notes that have evaded me somewhere

Book of Lost Tales (late 1910s/early 1920s)

In BoLT, the Havens are sacked by Melko.

Sketch of the Mythology (1926-30)

The sons of Fëanor learning of the dwelling of Elwing and the Nauglafring [=Nauglamir] had come down on the people of Gondolin. In a battle all the sons of Fëanor save Maidros [footnote: > Maidros and Maglor] were slain, but the last folk of Gondolin destroyed or forced to go away and join the people of Maidros [footnote: Written in the margin: Maglor sat and sang by the sea in repentance]. Elwing cast the Nauglafring into the sea and leapt after it [footnote: My father first wrote Elwing cast herself into the sea with the Nauglafring, but changed it to Elwing cast the Nauglafring into the sea and leapt after it in the act of writing], but was changed into a white sea-bird by Ylmir [=Ulmo], and flew to seek Eärendel, seeking about the shores of the world. Their son (Elrond) who is half-mortal and half-elfin [footnote: This sentence was changed to read: Their son (Elrond) who is part mortal and part elfin and part of the race of the Valar], a child, was saved however by Maidros.”

The Quenta Noldorinwa (1930)

The dwelling of Elwing at Sirion’s mouth, where still she possessed the Nauglafring and the glorious SIlmaril, became known to the sons of Fëanor; and they gathered together from their wandering hunting-paths. But the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which fair Dior had been slain. And so befell the last and cruellest slaying of Elf by Elf, the third woe achieved by the accursed oath; for the sons of Fëanor came down upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath, and though some of their folk stood aside and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part aiding Elwing against their own lords, yet they won the day. Damrod [=Amrod] was slain and Díriel [=Amras], and Maidros and Maglor alone now remained of the Seven; but the last of the folk of Gondolin were destroyed or forced to depart and join them to the people of Maidros. And yet the sons of Fëanor gained not the Silmaril; for Elwing cast the Nauglafring into the sea, whence it shall not return until the End; and she leapt herself into the waves, and took the form of a white sea-bird, and flew away lamenting and seeking for Eärendel about all the shores of the world. But Maidros took pity upon her child Elrond, and took him with him, and harboured and nurtured him, for his heart was sick and weary with the burden of the dreadful oath.”

Upon the havens of Sirion new woe had fallen. The dwelling of Elwing there, where still she possessed the Nauglafring [footnote: > Nauglamir at both occurrences] and the glorious SIlmaril, became known to the remaining sons of Fëanor, Maidros and Maglor and Damrod and Díriel; and the gathered from their wandering hunting-paths, and messages of friendship and yet stern demand they sent unto Sirion. But Elwing and the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which Dior the Fair was slain; and least of all while Eärendel their lord was in the sea, for them seemed that in that jewel lay the gift of bliss and healing that had come upon their houses and their ships. And so came in the end to pass the last and cruellest of the slayings of Elf by Elf; and that was the third of the great wrongs achieved by the accursed oath. For the sons of Fëanor came down upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath and destroyed them. Though some of their folk stood aside, and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part aiding Elwing against their own lords (for such was the sorrow and confusion in the hearts of Elfinesse in those days), yet Maidros and Maglor won the day. Alone they now remained of the sons of Fëanor, for in that battle Damrod and Díriel were slain; but the folk of Sirion perished of fled away, or departed of need to join the people of Maidros, who claimed now the lordship of all the Elves of the Outer Lands. And yet Maidros gained not the Silmaril, for Elwing seeing that all was lost and her child Elrond [footnote: > her children Elros and Elrond] taken captive, eluded the host of Maidros, and with the Nauglafring upon her breast she cast herself into the sea, and perished as folk thought. [...] But great was the sorrow of Eärendel and Elwing for the ruin of the havens of Sirion, and the captivity of their sons, for whom they feared death, and yet it was not so. For Maidros took pity upon Elrond, and he cherished him, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought; but Maidros’ heart was sick and weary [footnote: This passage was rewritten thus: But great was the sorrow of Eärendel and Elwing for the ruin of the havens of Sirion, and the captivity of their sons; and they feared that they would be slain. But it was not so. For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought; but Maglor’s heart was sick and weary &c.] with the burden of the dreadful oath.

Earliest Annals of Beleriand (AB 1) (1930-37, prior to AB 2)

AB I

225 Torment of Maidros and his brothers because of their oath. Damrod and Díriel resolve to win the Silmaril if Eärendel will not yield it up. [...] The folk of Sirion refused to give up the Silmaril in Eärendel’s absence, and they thought their joy and prosperity came of it. 229 Here Damrod and Díriel ravaged Sirion, and were slain. Maidros and Maglor gave reluctant aid. Sirion’s folk were slain or taken into the company of Maidros. Elrond was taken to nurture by Maglor. Elwing cast herself into the sea, but by Ulmo’s aid in the shape of a bird flew to Eärendel and found him returning.

AB II does not go this far.

The Later Annals of Beleriand (AB 2) (1930-37, after AB 1)

325 [525] Torment fell upon Maidros and his brethren, because of their unfulfilled oath. Damrod and Díriel resolved to win the Silmaril, if Eärendel would not give it up willingly. [...] The folk of Sirion refused to surrender the Silmaril, both because Eärendel was not there, and because they thought their bliss and prosperity came from the possession of the gem. 329 [529] Here Damrod and Díriel ravaged Sirion, and were slain. Maidros and Maglor were there, but they were sick at heart. This was the third kinslaying. The folk of Sirion were taken into the people of Maidros, such as yet remained; and Elrond was taken to nurture by Maglor. But Elwing cast herself with the Silmaril into the sea, and Ulmo bore her up, and in the shape of a bird she flew seeking Eärendel, and found him returning.

Quenta Silmarillion (1937) and The Later Quenta Silmarillion (1950s). These drafts were left incomplete and do not cover the events of the third kinslaying.

The Tale of Years (1950s)

Texts A, B

529 Third and Last Kin-slaying

Text C

532 [> 534 > 538] The Third and Last Kinslaying. The Havens of Sirion destroyed and Elros and Elrond sons of Eärendel taken captive, but are fostered with care by Maidros.

Text D2 (ends at 527)

512 Sons of Fëanor learn of the uprising of the New Havens, and that the Silmaril is there, but Maidros forswears his oath. [...] 527 Torment fell upon Maidros and his brethren (Maglor, Damrod and Díriel) because of their unfulfilled oath.

Letter 211 (1958)

Elrond, Elros. *rondō was a prim[itive] Elvish word for 'cavern'. Cf. Nargothrond (fortified cavern by the R. Narog), Aglarond, etc. *rossē meant 'dew, spray (of fall or fountain)'. Elrond and Elros, children of Eärendil (sea-lover) and Elwing (Elf-foam), were so called, because they were carried off by the sons of Fëanor, in the last act of the feud between the high-elven houses of the Noldorin princes concerning the Silmarils; the Silmaril rescued from Morgoth by Beren and Lúthien, and given to King Thingol Lúthien's father, had descended to Elwing dtr. of Dior, son of Lúthien. The infants were not slain, but left like 'babes in the wood', in a cave with a fall of water over the entrance. There they were found: Elrond within the cave, and Elros dabbling in the water.

The Silmarillion

Now when first the tidings came to Maedhros that Elwing yet lived, and dwelt in possession of the Silmaril by the mouths of Sirion, he repenting of the deeds in Doriath withheld his hand. But in time the knowledge of their oath unfulfilled returned to torment him and his brothers, and gathering from their wandering hunting-paths they sent messages to the Havens of friendship and yet of stern demand. Then Elwing and the people of Sirion would not yield the jewel which Beren had won and Luthien had worn, and for which Dior the fair was slain; and least of all while Earendil their lord was on the sea, for it seemed to them that in the Silmaril lay the healing and the blessing that had come upon their houses and their ships. And so there came to pass the last and cruellest of the slayings of Elf by Elf; and that was the third of the great wrongs achieved by the accursed oath. For the sons of Feanor that yet lived came down suddenly upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath, and destroyed them. In that battle some of their people stood aside, and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part aiding Elwing against their own lords (for such was the sorrow and confusion in the hearts of the Eldar in those days); but Maedhros and Maglor won the day, though they alone remained thereafter of the sons of Feanor, for both Amrod and Amras were slain. Too late the ships of Cirdan and Gil-galad the High King came hasting to the aid of the Elves of Sirion; and Elwing was gone, and her sons. Then such few of that people as did not perish in the assault joined themselves to Gil-galad, and went with him to Balar; and they told that Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but Elwing with the Silmaril upon her breast had cast herself into the sea. Thus Maedhros and Maglor gained not the jewel; but it was not lost. For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Earendil her beloved. [...] Great was the sorrow of Earendil and Elwing for the ruin of the havens of Sirion, and the captivity of their sons, and they feared that they would be slain; but it was not so. For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought; but Maglor’s heart was sick and weary with the burden of the dreadful oath.

#meta #third kinslaying #maedhros #maglor #elwing #amrod #amras #elrond #elros #gil galad

186 notes · View notes