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herenortherenearnorfar · 3 months

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!!! celebrian in valinor fic!!! 👀👀👀

It probably won't be out for a while yet, since I still need to figure out what the heck I'm actually doing with it. Right now I just have pure angst. Which is fun! But I'd like to get to some healing eventually.

She cannot bear Gil-Galad, so altered by the release of his long burdens that she hardly recognizes his serenity. She cannot bear Celebrimbor, once her dearest friend, now forever overlaid by his dangling corpse and his accursed shackles binding her husband and her mother to his doom. She cannot bear noble grandmother Eärwen, who has never walked the far shore and known its inundating grief. She cannot bear kind grandfather Arafinwë, always with the correct words and actions to just for a moment, make her forget how marred she is. She cannot bear radiant uncle Finrod, for what are her scars against his? She cannot bear uncle Angaráto, nor aunt Eldalótë, nor cousin Orodreth, nor the absence where uncle Aegnor should be, for her story is of little note next to the tragedies and triumphs of their age. She cannot bear the dozens and hundreds of family, old friends, old acquaintances, well-wishers she has never known. “What a pity. What a pity. What a pity!” She doesn’t want to heal. She can’t heal. The scar tissue is all she is now, layer upon layer, down into the marrow. She should have stayed and persisted in that half-life among her true family. She should have faded into a memory of rain on silver glass. She should have laid herself down in Elladan’s gardens and let grief wash her to the Halls of Awaiting. She had to leave. She couldn’t let them bury her. Couldn’t let them see what she is. Queen of Ruination! Spoilt and turned, not even worth twisting into an orc. A footnote in a story nobody will ever read.

So it goes. Moping and wallowing in her deserved misery as the scars heal and start to fade. Until one day she looks up from the embroidery she is mangling and sees another footnote has seated herself across from her. “Hello, cousin,” says the once-Princess of Minas Tirith, of Nargothrond, of a sunken grave. “Gwindor and I have a third ticket to the Flinnrysc concert tonight. You’re coming along.”

Yes I know Celeborn has family too but shh, I'll think of how to integrate them later (and I'd need to come up with names for Galadhon and Galathil's wives).

#celebrian should get into death metal #fic recs

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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she was a devout nun she fully believed that Some Guy™️ was god she killed herself to bolster someone else's power not once but twice we know like 5 things about her and all of them are fucked up insane she was a delight she was effervescent she was kind to animals and children she probably initiated a suicide pact which she then carried out she didn't mind being trepanned on the regular she was god's favorite sacraficial lamb she had strange and unnerving eyes and a strange and unnerving worldview she probably invented soul siphoning she was seemingly incapable of separating love from fanatical devotion she's haunting the narrative she was a zealot she was an idolator and a heretic she was the first one to figure out what needed to be done and the only one with the balls to do it and she didn't have the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange. i didn't say her name but she popped into your head didn't she.

#cristabel oct #keeping Christ in the post-apocalyptic necromancy cult #by uhhh sacrificing yourself #twice

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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Hi!! For the kiss meme, and if you're up to testing the multishipper mettle, Elros/Elros' Spouse or Gil-Galad/Celebrían/Elrond + out of necessity pls? <3

At dawn a procession mounts the heights of Meneltarma, Tar-Minyatur and all his court and household walking in the light of the Star of Morning. And when they come to the temple garden upon the summit, there kneels Tindómiel, star’s namesake, to entreat the queen upon her litter.

The princess takes up her mother’s hand.

“Ammë, we’re here.”

Tári-Tarendë is a daughter of the first shipbuilders, a child of the broken shore. She was born with another name, in another tongue; she has been a sailor, a scout of this land when it was a rock newly raised out of the sea. She planted this garden, that peach-tree, bore these four handsome children milling about the dais with their families—though you wouldn’t know it from their faces, her sons and daughter with those strong dark brows, those eyes of deep uncanny grey. Lúthien’s blood is lasting, lingers on all it touches like a lady’s perfume long after she’s passed through a hall.

So the queen would put it when she is feeling kindly.

Other times it feels a curse that this fairy prince had ever taken her to wife. Here he comes now, crowned with swan-wings, ever-young and ever-smiling, so ardently solicitous. Elros had supervised the placement of each pillow on her seat before they set out from the palace, and paused for readjustments many times. Earlier, when they’d awoken together at midnight, he’d rubbed her wrinkled hands and feet with oil, combed her hair and put it in a net. Dropped tincture in her tea, applied her poultices, seen to other matters far more ignominious before he’d stuffed her in this silken gown, tutting all the while like a nurse.

None other will attend to the queen, not so long as the king lives, and he will live a very long time.

Tindë rises to reprimand Aulendil and Nolondil, Nólimon’s raucous twins climbing on the rose-arbors, and Elros takes their daughter’s place, bending to his wife’s ear.

“Vanimelda.”

Once she would have shivered; now she swallows back a scoff. How his insistent passions embarrass her! If not for the crown he wears her husband might be taken for one of their sons, black-haired and scarcely bearded—the little brother too, slightest of the lot of them for all his forebears’ storied heights. Once—the morning they had stood here and made vows, a day they now embalm in ritual, reenact as if a farce—she’d towered two inches over Elros in her stocking-feet. For who wears shoes to an Elvish wedding?

What a fool she had been, thinking the years could not come between them. That she too would be ever-young, not stooped and withered, forever dancing in the risen sun and sailing by starlight, seeing her family through all their joys and trials and every humdrum moment in between, the rhythm of daily life that now comes to outpace her.

How many days remain, she wonders: to her a handful of pebbles, while Elros and the children will have mountains.

Yet their love was an experiment. They knew this, both of them, from the beginning.

Now her husband strokes the crepe of her cheek, the pearls he’d set this morning in her earlobes.

“Are you ready, my love?”

All the hour of their ascension, drawing slowly skyward upon the backs of oxen, the queen had rued the coming ceremony. For though she was wed at summer’s height, the day’s return each year has come to feel like a chill wind portending frost, and the kiss that marks its commencement a baleful obligation, a reminder to all that this may be the last.

And yet in Elros’ eyes she sees his need. For he must be a king, and she the queen beside him so long as she will live—but he is also a man who stood before her, by the sea and on the mountainside, in their bower and in the birthing-rooms of their children, and said he would love her and have no other in his lifetime, great fool that he is.

The queen accepts her husband’s hand. She returns his grin lopsidedly, and softly croaks:

“Well, then. Let’s get it over with.”

Elros lifts her to her feet. He lets her take his face into her trembling hands, as all the gathered crowd bursts into a song of summer’s fullness. And in witness to the kiss they sing of the gift of the land and the gifts that were brought here, the gifts the queen and king have given to each other that have borne fruit for so many years, and will for so many more to come.

#love this love this love this

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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how can u ship an abusive pairing like silvergifting?

You don't find vivisection hot, anon? I'm so sorry :(

#peel him like a grape etc

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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If you’re up to it, kiss #25 and Idril/Tuor/Voronwe?

Thank you for the prompt! 25 - for luck

~~~~~~~

Voronwë had reacquainted himself to the salt smell of the sea, the constant thrum of waves against the shore, even the rocking of the gangway, but there was still a knot of fear clogging the back of his throat. He knew the ship had been built by Círdan himself, but then again, so had his ill-fated vessel all those years ago.

The boards shuddered behind him as Tuor let the sacks of supplies he'd been holding fall heavily on the dock.

“Still nervous?” he rumbled.

“I’ve tried this before.”

“But now we’re both with you.” Idril came up on the other side of him, dressed in simple sailor’s garb, even her ever-present green jewel gone, now gifted to Eärendil. “And we’re quite lucky.”

“Is that what you’d call it?” Slavery, death, destruction, loss unimaginable — Voronwë would not call Idril and Tuor’s lot in life fortunate. But then again, they were together still, the three of them.

The prickle of bearded lips caressed one cheek, Idril’s silken mouth grazed the other.

“Let’s try again,” Voronwë said, and boarded the ship, Tuor and Idril following close behind.

#I love them!#voronwe the drowned and displaced getting back on the boat #least tragic tolkien threesome (the ocean eats them in a positive way this time)

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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HAPPY NEW YEAR! I’m so glad I discovered Tumblr, thank you dear friends for your support! this year is not the best of my life but I don’t give up and keep fighting!

this is Anaire and Galadriel

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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ELWING DEFENSE SQUAD 2024

Happy New Year fam! The annual tradition lives! And unless I've done my math wrong we're now on TEN YEARS of the Elwing Defense Squad!!

Art by @elwing from many moons ago <3 . 2k5ever!!!!

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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Finrod Felagund. "Philosophic discourse regarding the enmity of Orcs with Elves." The Philosophy of Finrod Felagund. 2nd ed., edited and translated by Vardamir Nólimon, Armenelos, S.A. 130.

[Ed. note: Private papers of Finrod Felagund. Written in his own hand. Dated to the season of Firith in the year 455, shortly before the Dagor Bragollach.]

Fact: According to the lore of our people from the days of Cuiviénen, the Enemy fashioned Orc-kind by his torture and slow corruption of Elven captives.

Question: How did our people learn this lore? Can it be that any ever escaped from the depths of Utumno to serve as witness?

Fact: In the lore we got of the Valar there is to my knowledge no teaching regarding the origins of Orc-kind.

Conjecture: It may be that our lore is not reliable on this point.

Fact: There are a few among us who dwelt at Cuiviénen, and others of their number abide yet in Aman; none of them have to my knowledge disputed the accuracy of our lore on this matter.

Fact: The fëar of Elves and Men have their differences from one another, but none so fundamental as the distinction between the fëar of the Eruhíni and the spirits of the non-speaking creatures. The spirits of non-speaking creatures cannot properly be called fëar, as the distinction in question is one of kind and not of degree. (Indeed fëar cannot be spoken of at all in terms of degree or size, as each fëa is itself indivisible.)

Fact: The lore we got of the Valar tells us that the fëa cannot be destroyed by any means.

Fact: Also of that lore, we know that the Enemy cannot truly create, only twist in mockery what has been created.

Fact: Also of that lore, we know that the Dwarves have their fëar of Ilúvatar alone, and not of Aulë. Before the granting of their fëar they could not speak, nor had they any will of their own, but could only obey the will of Aulë.

Fact: Orcs speak, and there is sense behind their words.

[continued on Ao3]

#Finrod Finrod!

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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Thinking of a wrap-up for 2023, and it is only right and proper to do a rec list! I've read very little this year, but I do have some fantastic fics to rec: the wonderful gifts that I've received! All by wonderful authors, with a blanket rec for their works, but my heart is of course especially given to these.

You should read them.

In reverse chronological order:

Untitled, by @aipilosse, a wonderful fill to a prompt ask: some Aredhel/Turgon forbidden love, and ah poor Aredhel! Delicious sibcest! [aredhel/turgon, not on ao3 but maybe teen and no archive warnings apply]

tree-tangled, by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor Tentacles! Entacles! Celebrimbor being boytoyed by an entwife! I never dreamed of this, but I should have because it's everything I ever wanted - trees deserve to get laid too! [celeborn/celebrimbor/entwife, explicit, no archive warnings apply, 2.2k]

In Forsaken Lands, by @jouissants Written for the Silmarillion Remix Exchange. Idril, her uncle, and partings, on the Helcaraxe and beyond, which such a lovely portrayal of all characters! [idril, turgon, finrod, general, no archive warnings apply, 1.8k]

mock your own grinning, by @jouissants Written for the Candy Hearts exchange, and it was exactly what I wanted! Sauron and his unique relationship with Celebrimbor's corpse and (very attractive) skull, with wonderful dark humor! [silvergifting, mature, major character death, 3.5k]

The Precious Baby Phenomenon Unpacked: A Treatise on Obstetric Care in The Returned by I.L. Finwiel and the Istar Institute, by @herenortherenearnorfar Specifically the third chapter (though I linked to the entire fic). Accidental baby-gollum acquisition: hilarious and amazing and touching! [silvergifting & gollum, general, no archive warnings apply, 6k]

The Gold Are Venomous' by @aipilosse. This is technically cheating since it was published on 12/29/2022, but that's less than a year ago and I can't not rec it! In which dreams of snekron and also fucking in a coat closet were achieved 🐍 [silvergifting, explicit, no archive warnings apply, 3.2k]

For one self-rec, I need to go with Shall These Bones Live, which remains my baby. Post-canon silvergifting, and I'm fairly certain it's the only one with Original Proto-Ent Character(s). Idk, I think it's good and worth a rec! (especially once you get past the first chapter). [silvergifting, mature, choose not to warn, 105k]

May everyone have a joyful 2024, with lots of good things to read 💙

#if i could i would swallow bones while like a snake eating an egg #it’s that good #fic recs #(thank you!)

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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gil-galad/elrond for 23 (as encouragement), OR celebrimbor/orodreth for 54 (out of envy or jealousy)?

Celebrimbor/Orodreth is a really big-brained ship. I was very won over by Visitor's version of it in the Mamma Mia AU (btw everyone should read the Mamma Mia AU: here we go again)

Unfortunately, this is not that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Túrin looked grave as he always did, a permanent line etched between dark brows, but his mouth softened when he saw Finduilas holding out the wreath of flowers.

Celebrimbor's stomach twisted, ugly thoughts rising to choke him. Just a few months ago he thought he could feel only happiness for Finduilas and would have rejoiced to see the soft smile she now turned towards Túrin as he accepted the wreath. But a few months ago he had not seen the bewitching beauty of Túrin: raven-haired, eyes of fascinating matte-grey, smooth pale skin that contrasted with rough black hair on his chin and chest, and shoulders that stunned whether draped in thin linen or chain-mail.

After an evening consuming copious amounts of apple brandy with Finduilas to soften what felt like a stiff parody of their old friendship, he had confessed his jealousy of her.

Her musical laugh had discordant notes. "Túrin son of Húrin loves me not; nor will," she had said before discarding her glass to drink straight from the bottle.

Those were her words, yet in a city full of adoration, only Finduilas seemed capable of eliciting any warmth from Túrin.

"Hmph."

Celebrimbor turned to see Orodreth standing next to him with a look of sour discontent that mirrored his own heart.

"You too?" Celebrimbor asked.

Orodreth startled; a guilty look flashed over his face before his scowl deepened. "Valar forgive a father for looking in sadness upon his daughter's entanglement with a mortal," he bit out. "You cannot understand the pain."

"Of course not, my liege." Celebrimbor echoed Orodreth's sarcasm. "Our positions are utterly dissimilar."

Túrin set the wreath upon his head after an elaborate bow to Finduilas. Finduilas laughed and straightened the flowers, standing on tip-toe to do so. The two turned towards the table where Celebrimbor and Orodreth stood.

Celebrimbor thought for a moment that he should try to smile, to at least pretend that envy did not eat at him, but before he could summon the strength, Orodreth grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close.

Their mouths met in a rather painful bump. Celebrimbor's mouth open in surprised while Orodreth's was still in a tight frown. Then Celebrimbor snapped his lips shut as Orodreth opened too wide. He jerked back.

"What!" Celebrimbor could not quite manage a question.

"They're watching!" Orodreth hissed.

Celebrimbor's eyes darted over to Túrin and Finduilas. Túrin's frown had turned adorably quizzical, but Finduilas was staring at them chalky with rage.

Orodreth had a wild look about him, but he was very pretty, and did have the fetching gold curls Celebrimbor had once thought his greatest weakness before being introduced to the concept of chest hair.

They met again in alignment, with sweetly parted lips and gently questing tongues.

There were worse ways to try and mend his broken heart, Celebrimbor thought. And maybe he could finally get Orodreth to let him remake his horribly boring crown.

#local elf magnet turin turambar

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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 months

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End of Year Fic Recs

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Open tag courtesy of @grey-gazania. No-pressure tagging everyone here and anyone else who wants to participate.

All Tolkien stuff. Mind the tags on AO3. Nothing Explicit but some Mature.

5 series/multichapter fics:

1. sir, take it easy by @exercise-of-trust (Maglor, Finrod, Celegorm, Maglor/Maglor's Wife)

“I thought you were adamant that no music was bad. And what would do you suggest, that we go back to Ráincë’s parallels in fifth, or Ambalincë’s discant exercises in fourth? Those were old before either of us were born, and you know it.” “I am not saying it is bad. I am saying that to me it sounds like all the fiends of Morgoth, but worse, because the fiends of Morgoth were not taking a clausula I wrote for my parents’ anniversary and mangling it. However, as its inclusion in this anthology shows, there are other people who like it, and while I do not understand it, I am not about to give up my Neldor or my Palecéva because the wind of scholarly opinion has blown against them from time to time.”

2. Spun by Grace by SpaceWall (Galadriel, Lúthien, Maeglin)

“Did you see them? The kinslayers who took your Nana? Who tried to take you?” “Ada says I did, but I don’t remember them. I don’t remember anything, except Nana screaming.” “Did your Ada say anything after? Aside from telling you to hide and stay safe.” The child nodded, bravely, and said in as clear a voice as he could manage. “He said they took Nana because she was bad. He said she was a kinslayer like them, and I had kinslayer blood in me, and they’d take me too if I wasn’t good.”

3. An Oral History of Dying in the Dagor Bragollach by Beleriand Death Trip (too many characters to list)

Please note that all participants were recently rehoused, but not extremely recently (this is regarded as unethical in our field). They have all had the opportunity to reflect on historical events after their death, both during their stay in the Halls and after being rehoused. We do not regard this as “contamination” of their recollection for our purposes, but rather as part of the normal process of narrative formation.

4. Foresight by @aotearoa20 (Fëanor and sons)

“He’s so small,” he said, not softly, “Such a beautiful baby.” “I know. He’s mine.” Fëanáro glared, he dared not do anything else. “You should appreciate it while it lasts,” when he smiled and the scar on his lip twisted strangely, “He’ll not be either for long.”

5. The Hazards of Love by @aipilosse (Finrod/Amarië, Anairë, Findis, Elwing)

Excerpt from The Empty House by Vatharwë Lelyindë held herself straight and tall, undaunted by Helluinon’s greater height. “You, my Lord, are free to live as you would, but others bear chains you cannot see. You speak of oaths and bonds, and yet you must see that when an oath comes in conflict, it is yours that is always the greater, and the other party must always acquiesce. So it is with me, so was it with your mother, your younger brother, and even your dearest friend!

5 single-chapter fics/one-shots:

Raised by Wolves by @warrioreowynofrohan (Elrond, Elros, Gil-Galad, Maglor, Maedhros)

“I hate him, and I do not hate him. Or, I do not hate him for cruelties. I hate him for kindnesses.”

2. The Hope of Love: Eärendil and Elwing as Symbols of Romance in Popular Culture by @imakemywings (Elwing/Eärendil)

Capping off these mesmerizing performances is Elwing’s final speech to the Teleri of Aman, a moment so fascinating that it has become the basis of many other dramatic confrontations throughout popular media. Almost anyone will recognize the line “I plead my hope,” or even its more extended version “Oh ye of foreign shores, I plead my hope. Let my home not be crushed ‘neath the boot of Bauglir,” even with no familiarity with the film. The passion of Torthoriel’s performance here has brought many a moviegoer to tears and captures a moment few had before bothered with—Elwing’s part in gaining the aid of Aman.

3. the bones of small contention by @quixoticanarchy (Celegorm, Oromë)

“You see, evil haunts a hungry man. If he eats his fill, he is called immoral; if he refuses, he will starve honorably. But free is the man who realizes that there is no satiety to be had, and equally there is no reward waiting in starvation. If my end shall be evil regardless, then my deeds matter not. I may eat as I please, and in that transgression, I find some shadow of liberation. A kind of laughter, almost - a light and wild feeling, like the moment after releasing an arrow, or the moment after the plunge off a cliff. You would not understand.”

4. all the daughters of my father's house (and all the brothers too) by Chestnut_pod (Fin-Galad)

These are the things ladies are, in the songs that are told of Finduilas and Niënor, her mirror: Love. Beauty. Laughter. Inconstance. Haunting. Sorrow. Screaming. Silence. In fact, the tales are not told of them. They are merely there. Many songs are written of Gil-Galad. Centuries after his death, Hobbit-children learn to sing of him.

5. Fire From The Ashes by @herenortherenearnorfar (Nienna, a Balrog)

“There is a terrible pain to conciousness,” Nienna acknowledges. She has not yet let go. “I just want to be an instrument.” Coals glow bright for a moment in the wind and then fade. “I was made to remake worlds, not feel this guilt.”

5 oldies but goodies (fair warning these are all liable to make you cry):

1. The legacy of a failure by from_the_wood (Frodo, Merry's Granddaughter, Merry, Pippin, Sam)

That's the thing with despair: it wants to erase everything, all of you, all that had been, or could have been - kind word, memory, hope for the future - but it cannot do so. It cannot. It should not.

2. An Oral History of the End of Innocence by @ceescedasticity (House of Olwë, Galadriel)

I think Hawser Road probably had the highest proportion of… Noldor swung their swords at a moving group and hit Noldor. Lindar shot arrows into crowds and hit Lindar. Noldor tried to ride down Lindar and also rode down Noldor. Lindar trying to get away trampled Lindar. Torches everywhere — I have never been so grateful the city is mostly stone, but wagons set on fire, sheds and stalls and barrels set on fire, there were some wooden additions… Panicked horses. Panicked cows, of all things, who brings cows when you're fleeing the gods to fight another god. There was so much screaming.

3. The One With All The Birds by @clothonono (Elwing/Eärendil, Elrond, Nerdanel, Sons of Fëanor)

What was her desire? "I desire my father, given back to me again," she said. "And my mother, and my brothers too. And my people, and my home, and all the years of my children's lives. Can the Lords of the West grant me this?" No one answered. Everyone knew the answer. "Equally I might desire that my enemy be punished. Let him go to the Halls of Mandos, whence none escape. Let me know that he is prisoned, so that I may gladly walk free." Is this your desire? "No," said Elwing. "I already told you my desire. Let justice be done. There is no vengeance that will satisfy me; there is no redress that can restore to me my father, my mother, my brothers, my home, and my children. There is nothing I want that he or you can give to me."

4. To Love What Is Mortal by @astridbecks (Lúthien/Thuringwethil)

Splintering pain as she was torn apart, yet as she parted beneath the hands of Lúthien there was a curious want mingled with the agony – strip me of this darkness, lay bare my soul, remake me – break me – and she had known pain before, had always known pain, but this was new and different and somehow right. (hurt me, because I deserve it. break me and make me as clean as you.)

5. woman into bird by @arrivisting (Elwing/Eärendil, Idril, Tuor, Elrond, Elros)

This is the best gift parents doomed to die can give their half-elven children, after all: to spare them the sight of their ends.

5 of mine from 2023:

1. Kill the Flame (Galadriel, the whole 3rd Finwean generation)

For Angrod, laughing at everything and everyone. You were an ass but you were our ass. You taught me patience, however little you meant to! For Aegnor, firebrand of our family. You saved me when the cold of the Ice tore into my heart. From you, I learned when to burn, and when to smoulder. For Finrod, dearest brother. What can I say? What words would suffice? Your ring’s bearer is worthy of his ancestors. I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you.

2. The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You (Elrond & Elwing)

He sends radiant wings, dark hair streaked with silver, a queen’s pride, laughter among the waves, lembas, handkerchiefs. He receives home, with such ardentness that he weeps for a week.

3. Sorrow Beyond Words, Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath (Finarfin, Lalwen)

The Valar said that he could no longer twist elves into orcs even by the time of his first imprisonment, but from the conditions there, from the bodies we pulled out…I don’t think he cared. Every torture, every debasement, every abomination against the Eruchîn that could be imagined. For each we thought might survive if we got them to the surface, there were five who wouldn’t, and ten corpses.

4. Shall we look at the moon, my little loon? (Aerin, Aerin's mother)

Aerin stands in her mother’s dress before the looking glass, eyes unseeing. Hitheth adorns her with the jewelry which will be her dowry, the only riches of her house, the last gift of the elves who vanished into the mists as if they never were.

5. Still-untitled "What if Fëanor took the Helcaraxë" AU (Círdan, Thingol (for now))

It's still Y.T. 1497. Morgoth hasn't had centuries to innovate his siege technology, but Círdan's cities also haven't been rebuilt with Noldor walls. The Grey Annals says Fëanáro's host arrives some seven solar years after Melian raises the Girdle. (Yes if we go by the usual "1 tree year = 9.582 solar years" then it could've been upwards of 25 solar years since the Darkening in 1495 before the landing at Losgar.) (I hate Tolkien's timelines sometimes.)

#ah!#second so many of these but especially the one with all the birds and raised by wolves

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