#Silmarillion fanfiction

[cilil]

It comes in Threes

✍ Prompt: Ages of captivity + the Fëanturi | Melkor, Námo, Irmo & Nienna ✍ Synopsis: During three ages of captivity, Melkor is visited by all three Fëanturi siblings. ✍ Warnings: / ✍ Triple drabble ✍ SWG archive

Námo is the first to visit him, unsurprisingly — it's his halls Melkor is trapped in, after all. 

He expects him to relay his brother's flimsy excuses or lecture him on laws and morals, but the Judge is silent. All he does is check on him and linger, as if he's quietly offering his companionship and wisdom. 

Melkor meets his silence with his own, proud and stubborn. He cares little about whatever Námo has to offer, feeling cheated and betrayed by his own kin.

The law is meaningless to him, and fate can be changed. 

He greets Námo with mocking smiles. 

Irmo appears even before his sorrowful sister does, and Melkor envies him for how easily he enters and exits his brother's halls, as if Námo's spells bend to his every will and whim. 

And perhaps they do — Irmo has always been his one weakness. 

To Melkor's surprise, he doesn't attempt to scold or preach; rather he seems curious and asks him questions. 

The fallen Vala lies and evades some, of course, but he deigns to engage Irmo in conversation.

"Why do you ask?" he inquires nevertheless, and the Fëantur smiles mildly. 

"I want to understand, and I know I can."

Nienna visits him last, and as predictable and inevitable as it seems to him, Melkor finds that he harbours no ill will towards her. 

She is perhaps the only one he cares to see, and this time he is the one to speak first. 

"How is it that you still defend me," he wonders, "even though everyone is of the opinion that I am the cause of every single tear you shed?" 

"Because you too deserve compassion, and I was never angry with you," Nienna answers.  "For I know well that, to cause such hurt, you yourself must be hurting.”

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams

#catching up on the backlog x) #swg meet and greet #swg challenge #melkor #morgoth #nienna #namo #mandos #irmo #lorien #feanturi #valar #ainur #silmarillion #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #cílil writes #my writing

[ylieke]

"And Melkor entered his realm. And the Dark bowed before its Lord, and came apart in the light of Silmarilli. The creatures of the night prostrated themselves on the ground in hopes that they would be spared and his heavy gaze wouldn’t fall on them. Sauron bowed low, pinned down by the terror that like a cape was draped over the Fallen Vala. He relinquished all the power he held in his absence and laid it for him, as a servant must." An illistraion for the "Play with fire" fanfic by @eternal-fear

#my art #silm art #silmarillion #the silm fandom #the silmarillion #melkor #sauron #play with fire #fireplay #the silm #silmarils #silm fic #silmart #fantasy art #fantasy character #silmarillion fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[leucisticpuffin]

breakdown/mending

“I cannot do this,” says Makalaurë, breaking his own stilted attempt at a formal greeting, and crumples like a cloth doll at my bedside. 

It is the first time he has come alone. He slipped into the tent early this morning, hollow-eyed in the grey light; now he screams into my blankets, and the medicine-bottles tremble upon the low table. 

(Of all my brothers, Makalaurë was ever the quickest to tears. He wept for lost toys and stories, for quarrels between brothers and grievances not his own, for beautiful songs and unexpected gifts – but not like this. Not over me.)

“Káno, Káno,” I say, the nickname strange and rough in my mouth. “Why come here, if the sight of me upsets thee so?” 

It is meant as a joke, but I know at once it is wrong: it is too near the truth. Angamando, I am told, has warped my sense of humour.

 “I am sorry,” Makalaurë sobs, straining for control of his voice. “This is not – I did not come to thee for this–”

His hands twist in the tangle of his hair, pulling at his scalp as he used to when he was very small and upset. “Stop, Káno, you will hurt yourself,” I tell him – but I am too harsh, and he flinches.

I knew how to calm him, once. Remembering is like looking through poorly-made glass, smoke-tainted and full of imperfections; but I know there was once a bright-haired, handsome child who held his little brother tight and stroked his hair while he cried. 

That child, I think, would know what to do. 

Even slow and halting movement jars my shoulder painfully. Still I reach for Makalaurë, thinking to take his hand – but I cannot do it. Touch is hateful to me now, the healers’ ministrations all my fragile skin can bear. A glancing touch, and against my will my hand draws back – my fingers shake, bone-white and too thin – I dare not try again. 

It would not do any good. My scars are the cause of my brother’s distress: he looks at me as if he had cut every mark himself. How, then, could I be a comfort to him?

This is how I know myself changed: Makalaurë weeps before me, and I cannot console him. 

@maedhrosmaglorweek, Day Two: Trust/Distrust

#this one got away from me a bit #maedhrosmaglorweek #maedhros #maglor #post-thangorodrim #silm art #silm fic #silmarillion art #tolkien art #silmarillion fanfiction

[solmarillion]

so i found out that ao3 is changing the tag names for silm characters and. they got rid of the quenya names even though people USE THEM. i am heartbroken

oh well at least celebrimbor is safe

NOOOOOOO THEY GOT RID OF MAIRON?!?!?!? WHYYYYYYYY 😭

#ao3 tags #silmarillion #silmarillion fandom #silm fandom #silmarillion fanfiction #fingon #maglor #celebrimbor #sauron #mairon #soleil.txt

[potatoobsessed999]

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 felagund #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silm #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #tolkien fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #my writing #my fic #in which finrod is a NERD and also a very good heart #in-universe philosophy as angst is after all his Thing (as well as andreth’s) #finrod is my son and i give him my orc emotions. i do this because i love him

[dalliansss]

“We need to dispose of this creature,” Curufin says, mirroring Celegorm’s sentiment.

“Do you think we can eat it?” Finrod wonders out-loud. “Steaks.”

Curufin rolls his silver eyes so hard, Turko briefly worried they might pop out of his head. “Ingoldo, do you remember when you first encountered potatoes? Yes? You ate them raw and food poisoned yourself. We are not eating anything wrought by Morgoth’s foul sorcery. Away with the idea!”

Finrod pouts mightily and harrumphs. Then Edrahil calls the King for an urgent matter, and the golden one flounces away to follow his captain. Turko shakes his head.

“Only one elf mad enough to suggest to try eating a godsdamn dragon,” Turko says, bemusement in his tone.

Curufin crosses his arms. “I’m dumbfounded you hadn’t suggested it first, hanno.”

“Are you shitting me? With the stink this creature has? Not even my most rabid dogs will want a piece of it.”

[Dragonsmoke / AO3]

#silmarillion #silm #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #finrod #curufin #celegorm #celebrimbor #finrod felagund #tolkien #my drabs #frogpiss and ugly

[animatorweirdo]

Soundless

Your father discouraged you from seeking the elf, but since you were desperate to have your locket fixed -- you decided to let his words go soundless in your ears. Turns out, the ill-famed Feanor wasn't so bad after all.

[] = Sign language

Warnings: mentions of a dead mother, hearing loss, rumors, Feanor's reputation, softness, and Feanor not being bad after all.

(Note: I decided to take a softer turn for this guy,)

---------------------------------------------

Your life has not been an easy one. Despite being born into nobility as the child of a Telerin lord, you faced your share of hardships from a young age. Your mother passed away shortly after your birth, and then you lost your hearing to a strange illness.

Growing up without the ability to hear the sounds of nature or music was incredibly challenging. Many people looked at you with pity, and some even speculated that you were cursed, given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both your mother's death and your hearing loss. This placed a heavy burden on your father, who was left to care for you alone.

You two shared a great bond, and he had been genuinely a good father to you, helping you adapt to your disability and trying to make sure you were happy. However, you knew how tired he was and how he held a look of longing in his eyes. He was most likely still waiting for your mother to return from the halls of Mandos. 

Your mother had been born with a weak body thus the childbirth took a severe toll on her and her spirit. The Valar and the Maiar assured that she would heal over time, but it would take a long time. There was a high chance she would return when you had already grown into your teens. 

Your father was deeply saddened by the news and carried a heavy burden of guilt, believing that he was responsible for your mother being stuck in a state of recovery. Despite any rumors or beliefs held by others, he never allowed you to bear the blame. Instead, he shielded you from such notions, ensuring that you understood it was not your fault and that you were not to blame for your mother's passing.

You didn't want your father to blame himself, so you always strived to be on your best behavior and do things that would make him happy. You also wanted to prove to him that he didn’t always need to worry about you and that you could handle yourself, even if you were deaf. That was one of the reasons why you were determined to learn how to read people’s lips and make communication easier for yourself.

One of the only things you had from your mother was a silver locket.

Your father allowed you to keep it, and you held on to it ever since. Unfortunately, the lock had gotten stuck, thus making you unable to open it. 

Your father didn’t know what the locket held inside, so you pleaded with him to have someone fix it. However, since the locket was an older design from the First Age, none of the craftsmen knew how to repair it. They all advised you to dismantle the locket and salvage whatever was inside, but you were unwilling to do so. You were fond of the locket itself and didn't want to risk damaging whatever precious contents it held.

You began to lose hope when there were no more craftsmen to turn to, and even your father seemed less eager to save the locket. He eventually told you to simply keep the locket as a memory, assuring you that knowing what was inside was not important.

You valued your father's advice, but you also couldn't shake the desire to know what was inside the locket. Perhaps it contained a picture of your mother, since you had so few of them in the house, or maybe it held a cherished item she kept as a memory.

You then heard about an elf who was rumored to be one of the best craftsmen known in history: Feanor, King Finarfin’s older brother and the eldest of Finwe’s children. You heard that he had done troubling things in the past and nowadays lived in seclusion with his sons, rarely attending social events. Despite his reclusive nature, his reputation as a skilled craftsman persisted.

You felt hope for your mother’s locket, but when you asked your father if you two could meet him, he suddenly became angry and refused. You were startled as you had never seen him so angry before. 

Your father apologized for snapping at you and then explained that Feanor was not someone who should even be spoken about. Despite the passing of many years, the wounds he had inflicted were still fresh in the hearts of many. He was not to be trusted, so it's only for the best that you forget the whole thing.

Normally, you would have listened to your father, but your stubbornness to have your locket fixed strived you forward. 

During a celebration event with most noble houses and the city attending, you sneaked away from your father’s side and made your way to the workshop where you heard Feanor usually occupied alone with his gadgets. 

You had visited many workshops while trying to get your locket fixed, so you had a good idea of what to look for. It didn’t take long for you to find the place and walk inside. The workshop was empty, as most of the people were attending the celebration. Although it was a bit eerie to be alone, you pressed on until you found a door with light emanating from the room beyond.

You quietly peered inside and observed a dark-haired elf seated beside a table, engrossed in some task beneath the flickering candlelight. For a moment, you were awestruck, realizing that this was the famed Feanor, the elf who had allegedly committed terrible deeds.

With cautious steps, you entered the room, mindful not to startle the elf, and pondered how to approach him without alarming him. Unbeknownst to you, the door behind you closed shut, causing the elf to startle and snap his head towards you.

You were frozen in your place when you locked your eyes with Feanor. His features were sharp and he frowned when he saw you. For a moment, he looked a bit terrifying. 

“Child? What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?” Feanor questioned, but you awkwardly remained quiet as you only managed to catch ‘here’ and ‘parents’ from his lips. Your lip reading skills weren’t the sharpest despite you having been trying to improve them. 

You took a deep breath and then tried to explain in sign language why you were there and that you had hoped he could take a look at your locket and perhaps know how to fix it since no one else knew how to. 

Feanor gazed intently at you as you signed, and then there was an awkward pause. You weren't sure if he understood sign language, and you mildly regretted not bringing a piece of paper and a pencil, which would have made explaining much easier.

Feanor’s eyes then softened, and to your surprise, he motioned his hand in sign language. 

“[Come here…]” he said. 

You then walked up to him and handed him your locket. 

He inspected it carefully, taking in the design and the lock. After he tested it and tried to open it, he then laid it down on the table. He grabbed one of the vials and what seemed to be a small tool. You looked at him curiously as he started doing something. 

He then glanced at you. 

“[Take a seat. This might take a while…]” He signed. 

You nodded and quietly sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as he gently poured drops on the lock. 

“[What is that?] you curiously asked. 

“[A type of acid. It can remove the rust that had locked the locket from the inside,]” he explained. 

“[Wait! So you can really fix it without having to break it?!]” you asked excitedly.

“[Of course I can. I do need to take the lock apart to clean the excess rust from the inside,]” Feanor explained while dropping drops on the locket. 

“[How do you know sign language?]” you asked. 

“[I was the one who first developed it,]” he answered, making your eyes widen. 

“[Did you or anyone in your family have hearing problems too? ]” you asked. 

“[No. I just wanted a way to bad mouth my half-brother without him understanding anything. I was a bit of a drama seeker,]” he explained, making you giggle. 

“[Then it was adopted by those who were unable to speak or hear words,]” he added.

“[How long have you been unable to hear words or sounds?]” he asked while cleaning your locket’s lock. 

“[My whole life. I lost my hearing somewhere in my birth,]” you answered.

“[Do you want to talk about it?]” Feanor asked, and you became excited. No one else besides your father has spoken to you in sign language this long. 

You then talked about your life. How your mother died during your birth, and how your father had taken care of you your whole life. You also talked about how your father seems to be blaming himself for your mother’s death and how you hated when others would look at you with pity and think you had been cursed. 

Feanor listened attentively while fixing your locket. 

After half an hour of talking and watching him work, you took a break, but then you saw how the elf in front of you placed all the parts back in the locket and opened it. 

You looked at him eagerly as he closed it and then opened it, making sure the lock worked properly before handing the locket back to you.

You grabbed the locket and took a look at what was inside. It was a small picture of your mother and father. They looked happy together, and there was also a small gem inside. It was most likely the gem your father gave your mother as a gift, and she had kept it inside the locket for safekeeping and carried it with her. You felt immeasurable joy looking at the picture and holding the gem. 

Your father would be so happy when you showed these to him. 

Feanor then caught your attention by tapping the table in front of you. 

“[The locket should work fine for now, but make sure to take care of it and not leave it somewhere where it could rust again, ]” Feanor explained. 

“[I will. Thank you,]” you signed. 

“[Now come on. I take you back to the entrance. You shouldn’t be here,]” he said, then stood up. 

You followed the elf out of the workshop, and you two then stood on the empty street while the celebration was still going in the distance. 

“[Do you need me to escort you back there?]” Feanor asked. 

“[No. My father is pretty easy to find, and I don’t think he even noticed that I’m gone. I’m pretty quiet after all, ]” you answered. 

“[Very well, and by the way,]” he said, making you look at him curiously. 

“[Your mother’s passing was not your fault. No matter how tragic it was, you are not at fault,]” he explained. 

You looked down for a moment. 

“[But others think differently,]” you said. 

“[There will always be people who will judge you for what you don’t have. Don’t let their words get to you. Otherwise, your life will become difficult and harder to enjoy,]” he signed.

 “[And remember, hearless or not, your mother would have loved you]” he added. 

The thought made you smile. Your mother had a weak body, but it didn’t mean she did not want you. Your father and the rest of the relatives always explained how she was excited to have you. 

She might be in Mandos, but she was going to return one day. 

“[I won’t. Thank you, Mr. Feanor,]” you said, and he softly smiled. 

“[Now get along now. Your father will notice your disappearance soon enough,]” he said. 

You then suddenly hugged his legs, making him look at you surprised. He then patted your head as you freed him and began making your way back to the party. You waved at him, and he waved in return till he saw you disappear into the crowds. 

Feanor returned to his workshop, feeling pleasant over the encounter. 

#silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #silm fic #tolkien #silmarillion imagines #feanor #feanor x reader #feanor x child reader #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #middle earth #deaf reader

[grey-gazania-fic]

Fouled Water

(Caranthir, rated G)

The moment Caranthir had seen Maedhros’ map of East Beleriand, he had known why his eldest brother was sending him to Thargelion. It was a banishment of sorts; save for Ossiriand to the south, where their youngest brothers would be safer and of better use, Thargelion was the furthest from Dorthonion, and thus the furthest from Angrod and Aegnor.

Caranthir knew it was his own fault for lashing out at Angrod during that ill-fated council meeting, though he was too proud to ever admit it aloud. He’d made a mess of things, and Maedhros’ rebuke, though firm, hadn’t been enough to salvage the situation. But it was just so difficult to stay calm around Finarfin’s children -- all of them, really, but Angrod in particular. Being in a room with him was like being pummeled by something sharp and hard, like the hailstones that sometimes fell in Mithrim’s chill northern winters, and Caranthir could stand it for only so long.

You don’t understand, he wanted to say to Maedhros. I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to feel what everyone around me feels. If I could change it, don’t you think I would? But he held his tongue. His brother had enough things to worry about, and Caranthir couldn’t help feeling guilty that he had added yet more weight to Maedhros’ burdens. So he accepted Thargelion without complaint. At least the place had a lake, which was more than could be said for any of his brothers’ lands.

Though Caranthir loved to swim, he’d never cared for the ocean. It was too salty, too gritty, too abrasive, and the violence of the sea during their voyage in the stolen swanships still haunted him. He’d been certain that he would be shipwrecked and drowned in the briny depths, as had happened to so many of his father’s followers. Even now, he half wondered if Uinen might rise against Fëanor’s sons in wrath once more if they ventured to the coast.

But Helevorn was utterly unlike the ocean. Though strong winds could raise swells on its surface, when the air was calm, the lake was as smooth and still as the glass for which it was named. And though it was dark and deep -- so deep that he’d run out of rope on his first attempt to measure it -- the water was pleasingly cool and clear. Floating on his back, hearing nothing but the peeping of the sandpipers and the plaintive call of the nearby loons, he finally felt at peace.

Now his lake is dead. Some foul concoction of Morgoth’s has turned the water murky and acidic. The weeds have withered, and putrid fish and the feathered carcasses of birds bob on the surface, floating between patches of burning oil. His fortress on Mount Rerir, too, is in flames, but his eyes sting more for the loss of Helevorn.

It’s the smoke, he tells himself, though he knows it’s a lie. It’s just the smoke irritating your eyes.

Blinking away the tears, he turns his horse to the south. There is no one left to wait for. Everyone who could escape Morgoth’s deadly host has already fled, making their way to Ossiriand with all haste. Only Caranthir and his rear guard remain.

“Move out,” he orders, his voice rough from the smoke. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

He leads his soldiers in their retreat, and he doesn’t look back.

#caranthir #dagor bragollach #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion writers' guild #silm fic #silmfic #tolkien fanfic #tolkien #silmarillion

[sillysistersusi]

Because they loved us so

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Celebrimbor & Elrond

Summary: Elrond and Celebrimbor braid each others hair and talk about the family they have lost.

Celebrimbor laughed as he continued to braid Elrond's hair. "Uncle Maglor did what?"

Elrond wiped a tear away from under his eye, for he had laughed so hard that his eyes had begun to water. "Yes, Maedhros was anything but enthusiastic about it, but in the end even he could not help but grin."

"I really did not think Maglor would be so bad at baking, because he is not bad at cooking at all," Celebrimbor said gently. "Atya was actually marvellous at baking, even if he did not do it often." He fell silent.

Celebrimbor hadn't wanted to talk about Curufin at all. It was the one subject that was taboo in his mind. He almost never spoke of his father anymore, as much as he felt the need to. Not after everything that had happened.

His hands became still in Elrond's hair.

Like every time he thought of his father, Celebrimbor was overcome by this incredible surge of emotion.

His mind always thought briefly of the beautiful moments. How Curufin had taught him how to forge, how he had cuddled him in the evening until he fell asleep or how he had put a protective arm around his shoulders.

But then his thoughts always drifted to another time. A time when his father was under so much pressure to please Fëanor that he only worked and hardly had any time left for his family. Then came the memories of the battles and how his father had sometimes returned covered in blood and just sat there staring at the ground for a while. Once Celebrimbor had gone to Curufin at such a moment, hoping to help him, and Curufin had pressed his face into the side of Celebrimbor's hair and cried. Celebrimbor had never seen his father cry before.

After that came the memories where Curufin was... was different. Meaner. Celebrimbor had decided then to stop blindly trusting and following him.

But to this day, he wondered if that had been the right decision.

"It is all right." said Elrond, who was still sitting with his back to him, obviously to give him some privacy, something Celebrimbor was very grateful for, because as always when he only thought about Curufin, he had started to cry.

Carefully, he leaned against Elrond's shoulder from behind and buried his face in his neck. "Sorry. I- I should have known not to mention him, and now I have ruined everything."

"No, my friend. It is all good. "Elrond gently placed a hand on Celebrimbor's knee. "If you want to talk about it, that is fine. He was your father and you loved him incredibly. And I am sure he loved you too, always."

"I just miss him so much, you know?" Celebrimbor stammered softly and Elrond nodded. He understood all too well. He also missed Maglor and Maedhros. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night and couldn't sleep, he thought he could hear Maedhros' rough voice saying goodnight and Maglor singing a lullaby. He always fell asleep immediately afterwards, with a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes.

But he also missed Elwing and Eärendil, even if his memories of them were few and hazy, he felt a longing in his chest for them.

"Sometimes I think about whether I could have saved him if I had gone with him," Celebrimbor whispered softly and sniffled. "Maybe it would have been all right then."

But Elrond knew that probably wouldn't have happened. "I have seen the effects of the oath on Maedhros and Maglor. No matter how much Curufin loved you, the pressure of the oath would have destroyed him sooner or later. And I am sure he would have pushed you away before that happened, precisely because he loved you so much."

"But if it is so clearly the truth, why does it hurt so much?" Celebrimbor pressed himself tighter against Elrond, because whenever he felt so helpless, all he wanted was to be surrounded by the warmth of someone he cared about.

"I guess it hurts because you loved him as much as he loved you," Elrond replied softly. He wished he could do more to help his friend.

"I am really sorry for crying all over you." Celebrimbor said quietly and full of shame. He lifted his head slightly.

"As long as you need me, I will be here to catch you, just like you do for me and all our other friends. You cannot always be strong, Tyelpë," Elrond whispered. "I am the last person who would tell you not to cry."

So Celebrimbor pressed his face back into Elrond's neck and wrapped his arms around his waist to press himself even closer to him.

#silm fanfic #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #elrond #Celebrimbor #tyelpe #tyelpë #telperinquar #fanfic

[silmsmutweek]

A fandom event celebrating sexually explicit fanworks based on the The Silmarillion.

October 1 to 7, 2023 (Sunday to Saturday)

The aim of Silm Smut Week is to foster a positive, inclusive, and fun culture around the creation and enjoyment of smut, porn, and erotica. 

Entirely optional daily themes and prompts coming soon!

How to Participate

Create something that narrates, depicts, or considers sexual activity involving the characters of the Silmarillion.

Post it on Tumblr and/or add it to the AO3 Collection and mention this blog (@silmsmutweek) and tag #silmsmutweek. 

We will reblog posts daily. 

If you do not see your post reblogged after 24 hours, please send us an ask or DM mods @polutrope or @ettelene. Please! You are not annoying us. 

The themes and prompts for each day are just suggestions. You can post anything any day of the week and we will reblog it.

Late submissions for the event are welcome and we will try to reblog those as well but cannot guarantee that we will. 

Engage with other creators! Enjoy their works!

All genres, tropes, and kinks are welcome: porn without plot, porn with plot; fluff, humour, angst, dark; slash, het, femslash, poly, solo; canon-compliant, alternate universe; reader insert, incest, etc. And, of course, every imaginable kink. 

All forms of creative engagement with the Silmarillion and the Silmarillion fandom are welcome: writing, visual art, meta/analysis, headcanons, playlists, music, video, podfics, cosplay, etc.

#silm smut #silmarillion smut #silmarillion #silm fic #silmarillion fanfiction #mod post #about #directory

[that-angry-noldo]

hm. just in case you wanted to read some "finarfin gets taken hostage by Maedhros and Maglor for exchange of the Silmarils" fic lately but could not find something that would cater to your interest. might i humbly offer you the first chapter of my creation

Eönwë has the Silmarils. Maedhros is not happy about it.

Maedhros has Finarfin. He is not happy about that either.

#maedhros #maglor #finarfin #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fic #:3

[cilil]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Caranthir & Fëanor, hints at potential Caranthir x Turgon 𓄌 Synopsis: Fëanor offers to craft accessories for his sons to wear at the next Feast of Horns. Caranthir has what he believes to be an unusual request. 𓄌 Warnings: / 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.2k words)

Carnistir had both dreaded and looked forward to this moment, though the former outweighed the latter. 

His father had announced that he would be crafting accessories for all of his sons for the next Feast of Horns, celebrating that the entire family would be in attendance for the first time, and promised that each of them could pick whatever they wanted and he would make it. 

For most, if not all of his brothers, it was an easy choice and they knew exactly what they wanted, or so Carnistir believed at least, but for him, it was more difficult. Not the choice itself, if he was honest with himself — he had an idea what he wanted — but he grappled with it regardless and disliked the idea of having to explain himself to his father. 

It wasn't Carnistir's first time participating in the Hunt. His brothers had dragged him along once before, with Tyelkormo in particular claiming that he couldn't miss it, and as was tradition for debutants, he had been among the Hunted. The greater battle had been with himself rather than the Hunters, finding himself strangely enchanted by the idea of being desired and pursued, while unable to admit it to anyone else and acting aloof to hide his inner turmoil. 

In the end Carnistir had successfully hidden in the woods of Oromë — no small feat as he liked to think, especially with Ainur participating in the Hunt as well — and rejoined his brothers at the end of the night. Nobody had bothered to inquire about his whereabouts after his declaration that everything had gone well, and he preferred it that way. Even so, the aftermath had left him with a sour taste in his mouth, his mind ever wandering to all the possibilities he had denied himself out of pride, shame and, as much as he hated to admit it, cowardice. 

But this Feast of Horns would be different. Carnistir had promised himself that it would. 

And then he had also learned that Turukáno would be a Hunter. 

I could hunt as well. Maybe alongside him, if he agrees to it.

Though perhaps I should be hunted instead to rectify my mistake. Any other choice would only be further cowardice.

Turukáno could hunt me. I think I would like it if he did. 

But why would he? Especially if Findaráto joins in as well. And he most likely will.

Such was the back and forth between the two warring forces in Carnistir's mind, unfulfilled desire raging against what he believed was his better judgement, yet his perceived lack of courage and bravery was what eventually tipped the scales in favour of the former. He was a son of Fëanáro after all, he couldn't hide in a corner while his brothers participated in the Hunt. 

Even so, choosing the Hunted meant that he would have to ask his father for a necklace or even a collar instead of horns or antlers, and Carnistir dreaded having such a conversation. 

Thus he made his way to Fëanáro's forge reluctantly when Nerdanel told him that it was his turn. He announced himself with a short, sharp knock and entered in tandem with his father's invitation to come in. 

Fëanáro was sitting at his workbench and bent over an elaborate sketch he was working on. A quick look confirmed that it was most likely Tyelkormo's gift, and Carnistir tried not to let his mien sour too much. Of course he's still busy with someone else. 

"Ah, Moryo," his father greeted him and looked up with a smile. "Do you already know what you would like or do you want to take a few more minutes to think?"

"I am ready," Carnistir replied curtly. It hadn't escaped his notice that Fëanáro appeared to be in good spirits, and he was about to ruin it all; but it was too late for second guessing himself. A plan of action had been made, and he would stick to it, come what may. 

"Very well. What are your ideas?" Fëanáro asked and finally reached for an empty sheet of paper to place on top of the sketch, ready to take notes. 

"I want a collar and I don't want gold."

Silence fell between them for a brief moment. 

"So you wish to join the Hunted?" 

"Yes." Carnistir pressed his lips together, ready to defend his choice, but his father took notes without further inquiry.

"Do you know which materials you want instead if gold is not to your liking?" he then asked conversationally. 

Carnistir gave a light shrug. He had thought of everything, every complaint or counterargument that might be brought against him for making what could be considered a strange choice for a Noldorin prince, but not the gift itself. 

"Something practical," he said eventually. 

Fëanáro smiled. "I hope you will allow me to craft a silver one then. I think it would look lovely on you." 

"Fine by me." 

More notes were added. 

"And what kind of details and ornaments do you want? Maybe some jewels or gemstones?"

Another shrug. "Plain." 

"You know you can choose freely, Moryo?" 

"Yes." Picking up on the hint, Carnistir thought about it again. "Lots of people have little charms attached to their collars, like antlers or spear-tips or arrowheads. I think I would like that too."

"Anything in particular?"

"A dagger." Inspiration came spontaneously, but for once Carnistir allowed himself not to overthink it. 

"And what about the gems?" 

"No gems. They sparkle too much." 

Fëanáro grinned at him. "Ah, I see. You don't want to make it too easy for the Hunters to spot you."

"Of course not."

"And you are right. A favour from one of the princes of the Noldor should not be won too easily after all." He wrote down more notes. "Anything else?" 

"No." Carnistir paused for a moment, then added, "I leave the rest to you, Father." 

"I shan't disappoint. If you like, you can have a look at my sketch in a few days — I will take some time to think about it." 

He nodded. "Thank you." 

They fell silent again, but no further words were needed. An unspoken understanding that the conversation had concluded hung between them, and Carnistir turned to leave. 

On his way out, he spotted another sketch at the very edge of the workbench, slightly crumpled as if it had been hastily swept aside in favour of Fëanáro's tools and the other notes and sketches he had made. To his surprise, this one depicted a collar as well, not too dissimilar from what he had asked for and imagined for himself. 

Unable to resist, he stopped and pointed at the sketch. "Someone else is joining the Hunted as well?" 

Fëanáro looked up to meet his inquisitive gaze, and his eyes sparkled with the same sort of mischief Carnistir would normally see in Tyelkormo and the Ambarussar. 

"That one is for me," he said, lips twitching as if he had to suppress a bout of laughter when he saw his son's shocked expression. 

Carnistir left the forge without another word, his cheeks flushing bright red. He needed a moment to process what he had just learned, only to decide that he neither needed nor wanted to know the implications of Fëanáro's words regarding his parents' relationship.

Well, he thought to himself, if I was wrong about Father, maybe I was wrong about Turukáno as well and he may hunt me after all. 

taglist: @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @saintstars @urwendii

#feastofhorns #caranthir #carnistir #feanor #fëanor #silmarillion #oneshot #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #cílil writes #my writing #again sorry i'm late

[ylieke]

Melkor and Yavanna. Fic by @eternal-fear

#my art #fireplay #silmarillion #fanfic #silmarillion fanart #silmarillion fanfiction #melkor #morgoth #yavanna #the valar #silm art #the silm fandom #the silmarillion #tolkein

[leucisticpuffin]

coirë | a stirring

“Thou callest this season beautiful,” he said one morning, watching shadows shift through the canvas as an attendant cleared the doorway of snow. “Forgive me, but I cannot see it.” “But thou hast seen it not,” protested Findekáno, setting aside his mortar and pestle. (The skill of preparing medicines he had picked up in the fearful days of the last winter, needing desperately to be useful, and yet unable to look at the wound wrought by his own hand.) “Not everywhere is so grey! Come, Russandol; I shall show thee why we name it so.”

Read the whole story on AO3

#i finished it!! #really hope i used the archaic language correctly i've never done that before #coirë #maedhros #fingon #silmarillion fanfiction #silmfic #silmarillion fic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fic #tolkien fanart #silm art #silmarillion fanart #oneshot #fanfiction illustration

[searchingforserendipity25]

silm smut fic rec

@silmsmutweek is winding down, and in the spirit of challenge participation and appreciation of the many great smut fics in this fandom, i've jotted down a list of some non-event related smut fics that absolutely shaped the way i read and write smut.

these are just a few - the true list of favourite smut fic is enormous, and growing every day, in good part due to the mods and everyone who also participated in this event!

Flying Like A Bird To You Now by Harp_of_Gold. @foxindarkness

"He’d betrayed his lover in more ways than he could count; no joyful reunion with the Lord of Trees could be expected. He owed apologies and more to an awful lot of people, but first and foremost to Oromë. That’s where he’d start, and when his beloved had crushed those futile hopes, perhaps he’d be able to move on." Celegorm is re-embodied in Valinor.

A welcome distraction, by firstamazon. @ettelene

Nerdanel is trying to work, but Fëanor has other ideas.

in the afterglow by lonelyvisitor for starlightwalking @i-am-a-lonely-visitor

For how long it’s been, darling, since we had one of our long talks, you must see this novelty of Curvo’s, but really any excuse for your company, come at once, or anyway as soon as I’ve finished with the chorus practice, it will be about the sixth hour. And informal attire, Turno, I must beg, you know I get itchy even looking at you sometimes…

prick a finger, cut your hand by welcoming_disaster. @welcomingdisaster

Míriel finds her rooms just as the sun sets over the horizon. She comes, as ever, with her hood drawn up over her face, wearing the simple white-and-silver robes of the unwed maidens that come and study poetry under Indis. The white symbolizes purity, the silver steadfastness. Sacrilege, Indis thinks, watching Míriel slip off her cloak and hang it delicately on the back of a dining chair, it is sacrilege.

Bow and Helm and Hand by jouissants. @jouissants

“It’s been far too long since you’ve journeyed with us, Mablung,” Túrin says. Mablung gives a rueful smile. “I go where I am ordered, and King Thingol orders me elsewhere. You have made yourselves too great a name together to be parted, and in that you are fortunate."

a most faithful vassal by starlightwalking. @arofili

Lord Fingon summons his favorite servant to keep him company on a lonely night.

Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside by BloodwingBlackbird. @bloodwingblackbird

For the prompt Maglor/Halbarad, public sex.

Of Changing and Shifing Shape, by polutropos. @polutrope

Daeron is the beneficiary of Lúthien's Maia shapeshifting prowess. They have a nice time in a treehouse that isn't a prison.

pulls you back, by orphaned account.

Maglor wanders the shore.

#silmsmutweek #fic rec #fic rec list #silmarillion fanfiction

[sauron-kraut]

Summary:

He remembers the labour and pain of creating a body. Of giving birth to himself when the world was new.

Mairon and Thuringwethil visit Melkor in Angband, a good time ensues. Mairon thinks back on his creation.

Yes, I went there and let them have a threesome.

Hey, for once (almost) everyone is having a great time, which nearly never happens in my fics.

How did they end up like that, you ask? I have no idea. I'm taking suggestions.

Not beta'd!

Warnings: explicit, child death, mild gore, they're their own warning

#mairon #sauron #melkor #thuringwethil #angbang #mairon x thuringwethil #my writing #m writes #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #ficlet #not beta'd