#atar baby

[raekensluver]

GIRL BREAKFAST, LUNCH, SNACK, AND DINNER

#till the neighbors don't wanna be neighbors anymore. #gimme a chance #baby daddy #girl dinner #lorenzo zurzolo #niccolo rossi govender #theodore nott #atar chit chats *ੈ✩‧₊˚

[bangelism]

AHH MY 36 DAYS OF HELL AND NEVER ENDING STRESS AND SUFFERING HAVE BEGUN

#at the end of this i am going to be feral hell angel #someone’s gonna have to chain me up s #this is it baby the past 6 years of my life have been waiting for these 36 days #all or nothing #and if it doesn’t work out…if i mess this up NOW…that’s it i’m done #i don’t even know what i’m doing after this but if i don’t have an 85+ atar i’m not doing anything #cause i will have lost all sense of meaning and purpose #not to be dramatic #but i’m dead serious #i have given up EVERYTHING for this #help im scared

[yanderepuck]

@weird-profiterole : *uploads me a new drawing*

Me: I WANT TO SLAP IT ON MY WALL AND STARE AT IT FOREVER

#aometimes i be catching myself ataring at a chibi of Salaì she drew #🥺 #hes just so baby #i love him with my life

[annoyinglandmagazine]

One aspect of the House of Feanor I’d like to talk about is the idea that they all really love children. Like Feanor has seven sons more than any other elf we’ve ever heard mentioned. You’re telling me this guy doesn’t really love kids? So I like to believe that all the Feanorians are all inherently great with kids and just melt every time they see a child.

Feanor hates his half brothers for the whole Indis thing but he’s the only one who gets away with hating them. Anyone else tries it and they are hit with the full force of an angry Feanor. Yes he hates them but he will also be tutoring them because how else will he make sure it’s done right and they won’t disgrace Atar? And no he was not just bouncing Arafinwe on his lap what are you talking about?

Curufin is an excellent father which he inherited from his own father. Tyelpe also has six uncles who never tire of spending hours playing with him. They all fight for the title of best uncle and Tyelko very firmly believes it is him.

At family gatherings it is understood that no matter your reservations about Feanor’s side of the family if there is an upset child a Feanorian will know how to deal with it. Feanor himself will rarely object to being handed a crying baby regardless of it’s parentage. Maedhros has been the assigned babysitter for what feels like an eternity and his abilities are regarded as near magic.

This does not go away once they get to Middle Earth. The Feanorians all go to great lengths to provide adequate parental leave in their armies and frequently stop round to check in with any new parents to meet the child. They know all the names of most of their followers children and ask about them regularly.

One of the first things that endeared Caranthir to Haleth was how kind he was with some of her younger relatives. The children of the Haladin all love him because he plays with them sometimes and brings them little sweets. His good with children instincts are activated with any child regardless of race and it helps him build relations with other races more easily.

When Maglor brings Elrond and Elros back Maedhros is a lost cause within a month. He knows this s unhealthy on so many levels but children. They’re so innocent and tiny and he’s going to protect them. They are both referring to them as their children within a week.

Elrond inherits this. Erestor and Glorfindel see his adoption problem and immediately think oh shit our lord is definitely a Feanorian.

#silmarillion #tolkien #feanorians #Maglor #maedhros #Caranthir #Celebrimbor #curufin #celegorm #feanor #elrond #kidnap fam #glorfindel #erestor

[acommonanomaly]

Curufin for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo shook his head, smiling softly as he approached Tyelkormo’s room. He himself was dressed and ready to depart, though he knew it would be some time before his younger brothers were wrangled into their best robes and made presentable.

Maitimo paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing up briefly at the colorful spider hovering above him on the carefully wrought filaments of its web. He was not overly fond of spiders himself, so he understood Makalaurë’s aversion, though he had to admit that it was a magnificent specimen.

Atar had described to Tyelkormo all he knew of the species, remarking on the artistry with which it wove its web, his voice carrying some of the same admiration he expressed when describing the creations of some of the Noldor’s most renowned craftsmen. His appreciation had infected Tyelkormo, who had loudly let it be known that he would not have anyone disturb his guest.

Maitimo pushed the door open and entered the room, and he was immediately struck by the difference in the quality of the air here.

Tyelkormo’s windows were always open, and smells both earthy and airy drifted in along with the singing of birds and the trilling of the insects outside.

His room was what Amil affectionately called an ‘organized mess.’ Tyelkormo seemed determined to bring the outdoors in, having scattered about neatly presented collections of minerals, gemstones, and other natural things that caught his fancy. Charts of pressed flowers and leaves adorned the walls, and scattered around a plant that had long since began to overflow its pot were life-like marble sculptures of forest creatures that Amil had made for him.

Maitimo ducked beneath a wooden bird that hung from the ceiling, its wings slowly flapping so that it bobbed up and down, and he moved deeper into the room. He stopped when a live bird let out a shrill twitter from the window sill and flapped its glossy black wings.

“Good morning,” Maitimo said politely to the bird. Let his brother not accuse him of being rude to his guests.

The bird cocked its head to the side as it watched him, a beady pale yellow eye unblinking.

“Nelyo?” Tyelkormo called out.

Maitimo walked to the bed and pulled back the gauzy netting that surrounded it. The little bells sewn into fabric chimed delicately, and Curufinwë sat back on his heels, his grey eyes going wide as though he had been caught misbehaving. 

In each hand he clutched the carved wooden figure of an animal, and there were several more scattered around him on the bed. Though he had reached the age where he proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he was no longer a baby, he did not mind at all when Tyelkormo coddled him and made him toys. Tyelkormo sat cross-legged next to him, whittling away at a chunk of wood that was beginning to take on the likeness of a bear. Wood shavings littered his lap and the bed, and Maitimo shook his head before tying back the netting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Amil won’t like you doing that on the bed.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Tyelkormo said curtly, though his gaze darted to the open door.

“Amil wants Curvo to have a bath, and you should be getting ready, too.”

“Turko doesn’t want to go to the celebration. Why must he go?” Curufinwë asked, giving Maitimo a guileless look that might very well have worked on Amil, or even Atar.

Maitimo turned to Tyelkormo. “Tyelkormo, what have you been telling him?”

“I was just talking.” Tyelkormo kept his eyes lowered, continuing to whittle at the chunk of wood. “And anyway, I don’t see why I should have to go.”

“Because we’re all going.”

“It’s a minor celebration. No one will miss me.”

Maitimo sighed. Tyelkormo had been invited to the house of Oromë and was eager to join the Vala for a hunt. Though the invitation did not stipulate that he should arrive by any certain time, his excitement over the prospect of spending time with the great hunter made him impatient. The celebration they were to attend seemed to be even more of a chore to him than it normally would be.

When Tyelkormo had expressed his desire to be left behind, though, their father had said that if the rest of them had to suffer through such a tedious gathering then so would Tyelkormo.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #curufin #feanorians #feanorianweek #feanorianweek 2024 #my art #my fic #what fades away #i'm glad i managed to finish this today #i'm all tapped out but glad i was able to participate this year #thank you for continuing to run feanorianweek #it makes me happy #i love these elves #feanorian for life

[doodle-pops]

Caranthir with Pregnant Reader and as a Father

Request: May I request a headcanon about Caranthir expecting kids? How would Cara react to the news? And how would he behave with his wife (reader) and his kid? (I think Cara would be an amazing father ^_^ I love him so much) – anon

A/N: I know you suggested reader with multiple pregnancies like twins or triplets, however, I decided to settle on just one baby for a start. I’d be happy to write a headcanon with him expecting twins another time.

➽ The idea of you becoming pregnant is certainly a distant dream of his which recently came into reality. The words leaving your lips with a smile while cradling your non-existent bump leaves him speechless.

➽ Quickly Caranthir falls into silence which prompts humour in your mind at his facial expression. In his mind, he was attempting to figure out just how much luck he was capable of having—first courting and marrying you, now having a child.

➽ When he breaks out of this trance, he rushes forward to embrace you in a supportive hug and reaches his hands downwards to your non-existent bump while whispering praises and thanks for such a priceless gift.

➽ Through your pregnancy, Caranthir becomes more doting. He finds it difficult to deny you anything you request since he wants to ensure your comfort during the entire duration. The only things he denies you are your weird cravings ‘if’ you have any. You will not be spared a look of judgment as he watches you eat a banana in tomato sauce.

➽ Consult the healers to learn all about dealing with your pain and nausea, all the herbs that are safe to make tea with or rub on your skin as it stretches and if your cravings are…acceptable.

➽ All your clothes will be tailored to fit your body as your stomach enlarges, and he will also participate in frequently tailoring new dresses of the same high quality, so you don’t have to wear less than what you deserve. However, you prefer to wear lighter materials since your stomach weighs you down.

➽ His hand will be on your belly often as he speaks to your unborn child, speaking to them of what their parents are like, how much he adores them already, or how miserable their mummy can be at times. It brings him the utmost joy when he feels them wiggling around whenever he speaks or rubs your tummy.

➽ When the baby does arrive, let’s not pretend that he was impatient and angry during your labour because you were in pain and he couldn’t take it away, he waits until you have fallen asleep to steal the baby away. Cooing silently and playing with each finger and toes, he’ll introduce himself to his child in a soft voice.

➽ Speaking of Caranthir sewing, he’s going to be making clothes for the baby so you or he and your little one can match. Tiny robes adorned in exquisite embroidery or lavish beads would be placed on tiny mannequins. He comes in every other week to show off the new dress or tunics he made like the proud father he is.

➽ He’ll accompany you on walks when he can, and ask the guards or your handmaids to assist when he cannot. It’s worse when he’s in the middle of a meeting and one of your handmaidens walks in to inform him that you’ve disappeared to walk alone. He drops everything to go find you chilling in the garden at peace.

➽ Moryo cannot help himself from releasing a string of words that expresses his concerns before rushing over. “Weren’t you in a meeting with officials?” “Yes, but it doesn’t matter, I’m here now. Shall we continue the walk?”

➽ This occurs frequently which prompts his meetings to be rescheduled and you annoyed at his hovering. You have to remind him that you aren’t handicap and you’re capable of managing on your own perfectly.

➽ “Hello little one, I’m your atar.” In between, he pauses to check if anyone caught him being all soft with his little one.

➽ For the early months when it came to caring for them, he helped out after turning to the healers for guidance. If they woke up crying, he would sprint from the bed to comfort which led to exhaustion before the day was over after walking multiple times a night.

➽ He keeps the existence of your child a secret from his brothers, except Maedhros, Maglor and the twins who would send gifts for your little one in the form of jewellery (obviously) and clothes.

➽ Throughout their life, Caranthir does his best to keep the outside world away from them, solely due to the reputation his house has earned for themselves. When they’re older, he would speak with them should they ever confront him about rumours and whatnot.

➽ His little one is his second weakness who could do almost anything and he would simply smile at them affectionately. He hates to be the one to scold them since he doesn’t want his temper to light up or appear as the bad guy–you’ll have to be the one to do the scolding.

➽ Note that your child will be spoilt from birth, and you cannot tell Caranthir to ease up because he will give you the look. “How can you tell me not to spoil my own child? I mean look at them! They deserve to be given everything.” He says as he makes them wear a bracelet which gets slobbered in drool.

➽ Should they ever cry, the entire palace gets shut down to assess the situation. “Who made my little pumpkin cry?!” Your little one made themselves cry by performing their acrobatics believing they were invincible.

➽ Moryo adores hosting conversations with his little one even though all they do is babble gibberish. “Oh really?! Ammë didn’t give you a kiss this morning? I know right! Mommy’s horrible! You should bite her next time. Oh, you will? I support!”

➽ Sometimes when you’re searching for your little one, it’s because they’re curled up in Caranthir’s lap while he’s busy writing up tax reports or speaking to an official. He’s nonchalant when it comes to what they do; they could tug or chew his hair, yank his circlet off his head, tug on his necklace (says something about always ordering better ones) or dribble all over his clothes.

➽ Does not allow anyone else to hold his child except you or his two older brothers, and even then, he HOVERS. He gets teased for how soft he has become for his little one by his brothers. They’ll reminisce on Moryo when he was little and whether or not his baby shares similarities.

➽ As your child grows and learns of the world around them, Caranthir ensures they are blessed with the best scholars and their interests are respected. Whatever trade they wish to embark on, he supports and solidifies their foundations, so they can excel.

➽ He’s proud of their accomplishments and boasts about them, even hosting celebratory dinners in their honour.

➽ He fears as they grow older and learn of the outside world, their views of him will change, and he isn’t prepared to face them on that topic. For now, he does his best to maintain a healthy relationship with them.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

#caranthir #caranthir imagine #caranthir scenario #caranthir x reader #caranthir headcanon #morifinwe #morifinwë #house of feanor #feanorians #lord of thargelion #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanons #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth headcanon #x reader insert #x reader fluff #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

Ok but wouldn’t it be funny if Elros put out a decree or something that if Maglor Feanorian is found, he is to be brought relatively unharmed to the king?

And then his descendants keep up the tradition, at first cuz they’re like “that’s the elf that raised dad/granddad/great grandfather/our ancestor”

But then the decree gets increasingly more vague as time goes on until its just “if you see a dark-haired, depressed elf that sings really good bring them to the king’s family”

Then The Fall of Numenor happens and it becomes a Dúnedain tradition to keep an eye out for a bedraggled elf singer with the self-esteem of a smashed coconut

It’s even funnier if Elrond is fully aware of this decree-turned-tradition and is the one encouraging it and keeping it going throughout generations like

Baby Dúnedain, pointing at a painting of Maglor & Maedhros Feanorian: who’a they?

Elrond, fostering another of his brother’s descendants: how about i tell you story about the time my brother and i rode mattress down the stairs, crashing straight into our atar, and afterwards you can learn about our family’s very special tradition

#silmarillion #elros #elros tar minyatur #maglor #elrond #elrond peredhel #cutscene to Maglor running away from numenorians for thousands of years #and then the Dúnedain #they catch him eventually in a hilarious game of #How Many Nets Do We Have To Wrap Around This Elf Until He Cant Break Out Anymore #silm headcanons #elros headcanons #tag.words

[carmisse]

The heir of the Noldor ft Fëanor lives AU.

Fëanor : Hello my children!

Amras : Atya, it is so early.

Caranthir : Atar, you cannot summon us this way.

Celegorm : It's not fair. I will not stand for it.

Curufin : Really, we have lives. We have business to attend to.

Fëanor : By businnes do you mean provoking political discussions and getting into trouble that I should ignore?

Maedhros : My word, there are impressionable young gentlemen present.

Fëanor : Impressionable? Trust me, Maitamo, no sexual innuendo makes an impression upon you brothers. I wish it did, that they might get ideas to marry and start fornicating.

Amrod : Atar!

Fëanor : Perhaps, then, I might have grandbabies. Instead; virgins to the left of me, lustful to the right.

Maglor : I believe I am a married elf.

Fëanor : Yes, and where are you babies? You have made zero heirs to the Throne.

Maglor : I am trying!

Fëanor : Are you? Really? Dearest, I explained everything to you? I drew pictures? You are doing it correctly? Make sure you are putting it in the right place?

Maglor : Atar!

Fëanor : The only heir to the throne abdicated and abandoned us!

Curufin : — Sounds of crying —

Fëanor : …

Fëanor : Sorrows, Sorrows, Prayers. — gives him small blows on his back —

Fëanor : I'am stating facts! The princes have had no babies.

Fëanor : We had one heir, one royal and he is gone!

Curufin : — Sobbing —

Fëanor : Sorrows! Prayers!

Fëanor : Children, this is a crisis. I’ve heard from King Thingol on the topic. Worse, Ñolofinwë is talking about it, wich means everyone will be talking about it.

Celegorm : Atar, I think you are being a bit zealous.

Fëanor : No!

Fëanor : It's time to find for respectable husbands, it's time to find for admirable wives. Get started. One of you had better produce to next ruler of The Noldor or your grandfather’s line dies with him.

Fëanor : Make me a royal baby.

Maedhros : Atar, you can't really expects us t-

Amras : I'm still a babe Atya, you can't expect me to have one?!

Caranthir : This is utterly ridiculous. My husband has abandoned me. How will I produce an heir without him?

Amrod : He did not abandon you Moryo, he is dead.

Caranthir : It's the same.

Celegorm : We must get tyelpe back as soon as possible!

Curufin : You will not disturb my baby's peace! In addition, Findaráto won me custody in court.

Maglor : There's no need for that, Daeron and I will make it, eventually.

Fëanor : It is not a difficult task. Your Ammë and I made seven royal babies all by ourselves. I do not see why the would lot of you cannot make just one.

— The noise of arguments and disagreements can be heard in the background. —

#house of feanor #sons of feanor #feanorians #feanor #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #amrod #amras #incorrect silmarillion quotes #the silm fandom #the silmarillion #silm au #abo dynamics #? #Maybe if is so Fëanáro is an omega #Don't worry about Tyelpe he is safe with papa #finrod felagund #curufinrod #daemags #caranthir's dead husband #angrod? #Feanor live au

[actual-bill-potts]

PROMPT TIME can I have some m&m and “enduring grief and anger in silence” please!!

hehe yes beloved <3

TW for discussion of death and funeral practices

Nelyo had not cried once after Atar’s death.

He had wept, bitterly and without comfort, after Atyarussa had died. There had been a kind of grim satisfaction in Tyelko’s face; Curvo and Moryo had been silent, Curvo tall and straight at his father’s shoulder; Minyarussa had simply stood, swaying, eyes so bright he looked like a sick animal. Makalaurë’s own eyes had been dry; he had been full of fear so hot he felt as though he were burning along with his youngest brother, and in his mind only one thought had circled, round and round like the wheels of an organ-grinder: at least one of us is now safe.

But Nelyo had cried and cried, doubled over on the ground like he was playing again on Atyarussa’s little drum-set, and Minyarussa had stared at his shaking eldest brother with a dull sort of relief on his face. Atar had half-heartedly said, “Get up,” then shook his head and strode away as Nelyo behind him gasped, “the baby, our littlest one - the baby -”

He had raged at Makalaurë, after. “Why did you not weep? Little Atyarussa! My brother the musician, composer of dirges, can still weep for a pet rabbit lost these hundred years, but not his smallest brother, who we were as fathers to -”

“You were, perhaps,” said Makalaurë, not caring that he was being cruel, not wanting to think about it, “but I had other matters to attend to. In any case, brother, at least he is not here.”

Nelyo’s face had frozen in open shock; but all he had said was a quiet, “It should have been me.”

Only - only now Atar was gone, and it seemed to Makalaurë that some rotted abscess within him had torn open and was draining, for he could not stop crying. There was grief for the father who had lifted him upon his broad shoulders when he was tiny, and swallowed his dislike of the Vanyar long enough to send Makalaurë to Valimar for tutelage - for a little - and taught him his letters. And there was grief for the days of his youth, the bright happy house and his mother’s unshadowed eyes; and finally, finally - where had it been before? - there was grief for his littlest brother, for whom he had fashioned a little violincello and whose piping voice had lifted with him in duets.

It was his turn, now, to lift his voice in mourning; but Nelyo was silent, and refused to help spread what they could gather of Atar’s ashes in the fields that were taking shape by the lake, laying him to rest as close to Cuiviénen as they could manage. He and Minyarussa stood on and watched, twin shadows of Ammë.

Does she grieve for us, he wondered. Will she know he is dead, and did not know whether he meant Atyarussa, or Atar, or himself.

But after, Makalaurë could bear it no more. “Why will you not weep for him? Our father is dead!” he demanded in a whisper in their tent. And then, pouring out of him, “you wept more for Findekáno, who is alive! Atar will not see the hills of Tirion on Túna again, nor Finwe his father; he is Doomed, and all of us with him! Will you not weep! For us, if not for him!”

“He murdered my brother,” said Nelyo, quite casually, “why should I weep? As for the rest, we have been Doomed a long time since, and I shall not grieve twice what I was commanded not to grieve once. I will fulfill our Oath; is that not enough?”

Makalaurë blinked back tears, again, and said, “Not for me; where is my brother?”

“He died on the ships,” said Nelyo; and they did not speak again until the messenger from Moringotto came.

#maedhros #maglor #ambarussa #silm fic #my writing

[sweetteaanddragons]

Two and a Half Men: A Time Travel AU

“We could always try stabbing him,” Nolofinwe said.

“You would certainly have the advantage of surprise,” Feanaro said dryly. “Unfortunately, I think that’s the only advantage you’d have.”

He was accustomed to having a slight height advantage over his brother. 

It had been many long years since he’d been accustomed to Nolofinwe requiring two books in his chair to scrawl his latest idea on the parchment with which they’d all but blanketed the table.

Nolofinwe scowled at him.

His half-brother had once had an impressive scowl, as much as he hated to admit it. The effect was currently ruined by the chubbiness of his small cheeks. 

“You could help stab him,” Nolofinwe pointed out.

“True,” he agreed. “I could throw you at him. That would certainly take him by surprise.”

This was not, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, a particularly helpful remark. They needed to do something about Melkor, and if they were ever to move beyond scribbling ever more implausible plans in Sindarin, they needed to be proactive about it.

But they had been talking for hours, and he was quickly reaching his limit.

He pushed away from the table to check on the impromptu play area he’d constructed from every pillow in the library he could find.

Maitimo was still playing with his wooden letters. He had not yet spelled anything identifiable with them.

“I told you he didn’t come back with us,” Nolofinwe called from the table, having apparently decided not to navigate descending and reascending the chair. “Why would he have?”

“Why did we?” Feanaro shot back. “And I told you. He’s been crying more than usual lately.” He was not crying now, at least; there were no signs of distress at all on his solemn little face, except for the fact that it was solemn and had not once descended into giggles over the past few hours.

“You’re stressed. He’s probably just picking up on that.”

It was slightly odd to receive exasperated parenting advice from someone who was currently small enough to be literally - and easily - thrown at Morgoth.

(It was, he had to admit, a satisfying image. Give him a small sword, pick him up, and then step back to watch the chaos - )

(But Atar would have questions, so alas.)

He checked Maitimo’s letters for patterns one last time as he leaned down to pick up his son. If Maitimo had come back with them, he couldn’t imagine the stress of being trapped in such a small body, unable to communicate.

But so far as he could tell, the blocks were sorted purely by color.

“Very clever,” he praised the baby anyway, bouncing him in his arms. “You’ll be organizing supply chains in no time.”

A flicker of movement alerted him just in time to their approaching company.

His father emerged from the nearest labyrinth of bookshelves, smiling hopefully. 

Feanaro had to bury his face in giving Maitimo’s head kisses for a moment.

It was not the first time he had seen his father since his return. But it was still - he still had to -

By the time he lifted his face, he was almost certain it was normal again. In this one thing, he envied Nolofinwe’s younger form; no one thought too deeply about why a toddler’s face did anything. If Nolo appeared distressed, then a snack or a toy or a hug were quickly presented until it went away.

Feanaro, on the other hand, had been having a great many Significant Talks. Apparently it had been more concerning when he had frozen in the middle of the day and abruptly begun screaming than when Nolofinwe did it.

They were probably just lucky that no one had yet realized those two events had coincided perfectly.

“How did things go with your brother?” Atar asked, voice unbearably hopeful.

“We’re inventing a new language,” Feanaro said, to explain the notes. “Maitimo helped.”

Atar smiled indulgently at what was currently his only grandson. “Of course he did. Did you have fun, Nolo?”

Nolofinwe looked down at the so far dismal fruits of their labors and produced a world-weary sigh that almost made Feanaro snicker.

To his credit, though, he also produced the answer that would allow them to continue this collaboration:

“Oh, yes. Lots.”

#silmarillion #time travel #nolofinwe #Feanor #finwe #maitimo #i have done these two time travelling before #but i enjoyed putting this twisted on it

[raekensluver]

addicted to lorenzo zurzolo.

#lorenzo zurzolo #niccolo rossi govender #baby netflix #atar chit chats *ੈ✩‧₊˚

[dalliansss]

The child flinches at Finwë’s sudden, vehement tone and starts to cry. Finwë hastily backtracks, though his own infamous temper is beginning to build. “Wait, no… Findekáno, I am not angry at you. I promise. I’m not angry at you. Who did this to you?”

The child is crying ugly now, all tears and snot. “M-m-my t-tutor on—on— l-lo-re….!” He hiccups. Babbles about how so much reading gives him a hard time and the tutor gets annoyed because he can’t memorize things quickly enough, and he fidgets on his seat a lot and then he gets given a rap on both hands. 

Finwë is so, so furious that the king goes pale with it. He wipes Findekáno’s tears, kisses them away, and takes out a little vial of balm from his pocket. He asks Findekáno to show him his hands, and softly rubs it there. Both hands, on the knuckles, have two pink welts on them. “I will have a little talk with this tutor,” Finwë says. He tries for his tone to be gentle but he is in such a rage that his familiar smile is pinched. “I will have a little talk with your Atar. You won't see this tutor again, Findekáno.”

“Haru, haru– please no,” the child begs, still crying. “Atya and Ammë will get angry at me, they will not give me dinner—!”

“No, no, no,” Finwë says. He cups Finno’s cheeks and kisses his tears away. “They won’t be angry, I promise. I promise it to you. Findekáno, if something like this happens to you again you need to tell me or tell your Atar and Ammë, alright? They won’t be angry at you.”

“Atya angry if m slow,” Finno has reverted to slight baby talk as he is truly distressed. “Atta says—says I have to—learn lot— cousins—Maitimo—!

Finwë curses between his teeth. He will grab Nolofinwë by the ear, he swears. He hugs Finno, hoists him up. “You are learning a lot, Findekáno, and you are not your cousins. It is ridiculous. You are doing very well. I will talk to Atar, he won’t be angry.”

[a son's trust / AO3]

#silmarillion #silm #the silm #fingon #findekano #nolofinwe #fingolfin #nolofinweans #finwe #my drabs #my fanfiction #my fanfic #house of finwe #finweans #family pressure tw #lmao

[aotearoa20]

Foresight Strength.

//1//2//3//4//5//6//7//

He’s unsure exactly what woke him in the dark of night. He didn’t watch over Tyelkormo when he slept. The phantoms always come under the shimmering glow of Telerperion, when no one else is there to witness them. So he had left Nerdanel and some of her handmaidens to the few hours of the day where the boy actually rested.

But this time he woke with a prickling in his stomach and couldn’t even think to rouse Nerdanel as he slipped out of bed. He stalked down the corridor as quiet as he could manage until he reached the nursery door. It was just slightly ajar, a long beam fireligot peering through the crack.

Inside he could see the figure silhouetted against the warm light of the dying embers. His back was turned to him but he could see his hands running along the carvings of the mantle piece. Sharpened nails squealed as they dragged along the wood, the sound causing the baby to stir in his sleep. The visitor’s head tilted just slightly to the side as he turned to look.

Fëanáro knew he should go into the room but his limbs felt stiff and unwieldy. He breath came out in short bursts but he didn’t know why. The elf had done nothing after all.

He did stare at sleeping child strangely. He, who looked so much like his own mother and it seemed only grew into her likeness as he grew older. Perhaps, he hoped, this one was spared the same nameless fate of his brothers.

His hand reached down, running along the baby’s cheek, careful not to wake him. It left rusty brown smudge along his face and Fëanáro suddenly felt ill. The stranger’s eyes widen and he let out a thin, breathy laugh. There was something wrong with the his smile as his hand moved to his hip.

“What do you think you doing?” Fëanáro sprang forward. The vision looked up at him and bared it’s teeth. He saw the flash of a knife and with speed he hadn’t known he possessed flew across the room.

He barrelled into him, shoving him into the wall and pinning his arms against it. The knife was oddly long and cruelly barbed. But well crafted, his mind supplied unhelpful. He watched as the elf’s gaze flitted across the room before landing back on him. His scowl melted into another uncanny smile and he bowed his head.

“They shall say to you he will be great. They never said I’d be good.”

Fëanáro had expected him to growl as he spoke. Else that his words would be sharp as his nails or the teeth they whispered past. The visions speaks with a voice like honey. Softly like he knew he’d be listened to and saw no need to raise his voice. Feanaro could feel the power behind the words and ignored it.

“Stay away from my son.”

“Atar,” he said chiding, “Am I not your loyal son? Everything I have ever done, all of it, was for you.”

He twisted his wrist, gently trying to entangle himself from his father’s grip. He slammed his hand back with enough force to make the elf drop the blade, or so he thought. He now recognised the blood on his fingertips and dried in flecks across his face.

“You don’t understand!” he grunted, and for the barest moment he looked afraid, then his expression morphed into one of burning earnestness, “There is something wrong with him.”

Fëanáro searched his pale silver eyes for some reason buried there, some awareness of the madness he was suggesting.

“Trust me,” it whispered and for the most terrible second, Fëanáro couldn’t help but consider his words. , “It would be better if he never lived!”

“Hold your tongue if you have nothing but poison to speak!” Fëanáro spit some of his own power into his words and the boy’s mouth clamped shut. He could have sworn the creature rolled it’s eyes. With far greater strength than his lithe body betrayed he flung Fëanáro off him. The prince stumbled back to avoid the blade swings down by his face, and landed hard to the ground.

“He shall kill your sons!”

Fëanáro brought his hand up to the side of his face, his fingers coming back red and sticky.

“What- ”

It was barely a deep enough to be called an injury but Tyelkormo stared down at him in horror. The blade in his hand clattered to the ground and Fëanáro watched as he seemed to crumple in on himself.

“He… I. I didn’t mean to… I… I’m sorry - I don’t,” Celegorm slid slowly to the ground and murmuring apologies and names Fëanáro had never heard.

He hesitates a moment before shuffling over to him. Careful to block his view of his son, he put his arms around the boy. Tyelkormo is also crying in his crib but Fëanáro didn’t risk glancing at him. He won’t remind the weeping elf of his proximity to the child.

“Turkafinwë…” He said softly, running his hands through his hair as he sobbed against his shoulder. He is shivering and warm as ghosts should not be. The cut on his cheek stung a little but dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. These were more than just visions, they could touch this world - they could harm his children.

“I’m sorry,” His son said to him before turning to mist on his arms, “I… ruined everything.”

#foresight au #feanor #turkafinwe #tyelkormo #celegorm #silmarillion #tolkien #my writing #silm au

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The most vexing gift

Characters: Fëanor, Fingolfin, Maglor, Maedhros

Themes: Soft

Warnings: None

Word count: 500+ words

Summary: Fingolfin presents Maglor with a gift on his begetting day.

A/n: This was inspired by @batsyforyou baby Maglor post

Minors DNI

Fëanor studied the strange box in his half-brother's hands with apprehension. "Pray what have you there, brother mine?"

"Tis a gift for Káno, brother." Fingolfin was all innocence, but the light flashing in his eyes gave rise to further suspicions. Fëanor believed this gift—whatever it was—was more than just a mere gift. "It is his begetting day, after all."

"Very well," came the reply. Fëanor did not wish to argue during his second son's begetting day. He comported himself with as much dignity as he could muster, and he moved to the side to allow his half-brother to meet his young son. "Come here, little one. Your uncle has come calling."

Maglor babbled merrily and ran as fast as his little feet could carry him. His laughter rattled around the receiving room as soon as he set his eyes on his father.

"Atar!" He cried, and then he turned to face his uncle. Maglor watched with eager eyes while Fingolfin dipped to his haunches and held out the box for his nephew to take.

"For your begetting day," Fingolfin cooed and looked on with growing amusement while his nephew fussed with the ribbon. He reached out and loosened the strips of silk himself when Maglor gave up and huffed in frustration. "I hope you like it."

A whoop of delight followed. Maglor pulled out a shiny, beaten gold drum and held it in his hands. He rewarded his uncle with a lopsided grin and made himself comfortable on the cool marble floor. A loud, shrill womp sound followed when he banged his fist onto the drum skin. Maglor laughed like it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. He banged his fist on the drum skin again. A second womp followed, and another, and another. Maglor looked at his uncle and babbled incoherently. Then he clutched the little drum to his chest and rose to his feet. Fëanor observed this all unfold before him, and with growing alarm. His second son adored anything that made noise, and this drum made ample noise. Maglor would be relentless in playing with his new toy, and at all hours too. They would know neither silence nor peace until he tired of it. Fëanor turned to face his brother, his eyes narrowed to thin slats.

"Of all the gifts," he began in a hushed whisper, "why this?"

"Like I said," answered Fingolfin, "it is merely a gift. One I am certain Káno would love."

A round of loud womp-womp-womps and more laughter followed. This time it came from the library. Maedhros was then heard encouraging his little brother to play even more. Fëanor nearly howled.

Fingolfin must be vexed over what I said about him during the last feast, he thought to himself. Yes. That must be the cause of this gift.

More shrill sounds were heard. And then Maglor began to sing. It was high-pitched and garbled, and it was very much the singing of a small child. Maedhros' cheers encouraged him.

"Ah, the joys of childhood." His half-brother continued. The smile that followed was both triumphant and vicious. "I must leave. Farewell, brother mine."

#maglor #fëanor #fingolfin #maedhros #keeping up with the finwëans #the silm #the silmarillion

[doodle-pops]

Maedhros Having A Twin Sister

A/N: I remembered the anon who sent the request for Caranthir's twin sister had given me the option of him, Maedhros and Fingon, and I've been obsessed with the idea of Mae having a twin sister. I might follow up with Fingon soon.

𑁍 So let’s say that you were the older born 20 minutes before him, you and Maedhros are going to be considered the apple of everyone and the family’s eye. The first child, the first girl, the first of everything within the House of Feanor, you are going to be cherished.

𑁍 Both you and Maedhros would receive equal parts of love, affection and attention. There isn’t any need for either of you to fight over who gets to spend more time with amillё and atar. Both Nerdanel and Feanor would be over the moon that their first babies were twins and equally beautiful.

𑁍 As Maedhros twin, growing up as the first two of the third generation of the House of Finwe, you are both alone for the greater half of your childhood before the rest of your siblings and cousins arrive. This means that you and Mae have many years to bond wonderfully.

𑁍 From playmates as children, you two would grow into adolescence and then adulthood having taken care of each other and constantly hovering. His attachment to you was always ‘she’s my sister, we’re supposed to be together always.’

𑁍 Maedhros was always attached to you, following you around wherever you went. If you wanted to play dress-up and dollhouse, he was down for that. If you wanted to host a tea party, he was also down for that. It didn’t matter (since it was just you two) where he was, so long as you were there.

𑁍 It was quite some funny years after your younger brothers were born, they were always fighting for your attention and Maedhros hated it, especially when Maglor and Caranthir used to cry and beg for you. It caused him to act stingy and keep you to himself.

𑁍 He can always count on you to be honest, brutal as well, and truthful with him. The both of you would adapt the roles of acting as parents to the rest of your siblings and cousins. This was a great relief for him because he would joke about what if it was just him alone as the eldest.

𑁍 Despite you being the eldest, for him as the eldest brother, he took the role of being head. You witnessed this during his years in Beleriand, he refused to give you that position, not wanting to give that volume of stress to you.

𑁍 You are close with him, Maglor, Caranthir and Ambarussar since the quiet personalities you all share are compatible. He was attached to you from a young all the way into adulthood. It’s something he uncontrollably does—just whips his head around to search for you and then stands nearby.

𑁍 He isn’t one to hover, but as the years pass and he realised that you were the only other girl in the family, he becomes protective. Giving your suitors the fatherly glare from over your shoulder or talking behind your back, and then acting dumb as if he had nothing to do with your suitor never returning.

𑁍 Arguments between you both are…complex. You’re opposites in terms of personality, but share lots of similarities with Nerdanel and her temperament, so disputes are never long but grudges were. Partially reasoned and sorted out, this was during Valinor.

𑁍 For his years in Beleriand, he was grateful for your company during his lonely and emotionally detached days in Himring. When Fingon or Maglor wasn’t there to sing away his nightmares, you would swoop in the care of him.

𑁍 Tending to his injuries, dressing and feeding him on his bad days, going to his meetings and assisting him with his documents/reports. He was grateful but also ashamed for dragging you into this. Despite acting as the eldest over everyone, he would always feel like your baby brother before you.

𑁍 This is the time when he would lean into your embrace and allow you to brush his hair and sing or baby him. He hates it since he doesn’t like the incapacitated feeling, but it makes him remember his youthful days with you; carefree and running around chasing each other.

𑁍 In return, he would spoil you with the finest riches the land had to offer because he enjoys gift-giving. Maedhros would take up training you in self-defence while being protective and not fancying the idea of you roaming about Beleriand.

𑁍 As the big sister, you were responsible for helping him with suitors. Dressing him up and making him appear desirable to the public. You would give him lots of advice on how to charm people and you were the final say on if you approved of his choice.

𑁍 His favourite days are spent going on walks or rides through the forest and getting everything off his chest. Witnessing him cry and breaking down was a familiar sight that broke your heart. You felt horrible that you could save your twin.

𑁍 Furthermore, you used to feel his pain, when be was going through the rough, but never told him to avoid him wallowing in guilt and shame. You took your job of being his big sister seriously, always easing his stress load and watching over him.

𑁍 You are his confidant and best friend, and he trusts you just as much as he trusts Maglor. You know all his secrets and his bond with you is unlike any other.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @hoshinokurasa

#maedhros x reader #maedhros headcanon #maedhros imagine #maedhros fluff #maedhros scenario #maedhros #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanon #silmarillion fluff #silmarillion scenario #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth headcanons #middle earth fluff #nelyfinwe #maitimo #nelyafinwe maitimo #russandol #maedhros x sister!reader #house of feanor #feanorian #x reader fluff #x reader insert #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[curiouselleth]

Be He Foe or Friend

Decided to start posting this here as well! (ao3)

Be He Foe or Friend is a Silmarillion choose your own adventure fic I've been writing for a little while now, and right now I have 3 rounds of chapters out (including the first one.) At the end of each chapter there is a choice, and the one you choose corresponds with which chapter you read next! Right now I have the next chapters on ao3 linked in the options at the bottom, and I'll be reblogging this post with the next chapters!

This is written in second POV, as if you, the reader, are Lalwen.

Chapter 1: Introductions

“You are still young and this is a big step, my darling Lalwen, but as my daughter and princess of the Noldor, it is time you start attending court and finding your role as a princess of our people. I know you are unsure, but I have every confidence that the people will adore you.” your father said encouragingly.

“Are you sure, atar? I fear due to the controversy of your and amil’s marriage I may be ill received not just in the court, but by the people if I begin to take a greater role…”

Finwë tucks a braid behind your ear, “do not fear my darling, Fingolfin and I will be with you the entire time, even Fëanor will be there today.”

You smile, take a shaky breath, and nod, “I suppose we should stop stalling, then.”

“Lalwen, my daughter, my darling, my precious. You are the one stalling, not me!” we laughed.

---

The court hall had always been lavishly adorned. Precious metals were inlaid into the very stone of the walls and floor, running like rivers and vines. The floor is a beautiful mosaic depicting the path the Noldor traveled from the very waters of Cuiviénen in the far east to the border of the home of the Noldor in the west, the white city of Tirion. The thrones sat on a raised dais, and upon each step a level of the city is depicted, until the top step, which shows the gardens outside this very hall, with the thrones in the middle sitting where the Court Hall would be depicted on the mosaic. 

Windows of vibrantly colored glass depicting scenes of the Noldor’s travels and crafts starting nigh a step up from the floor stretch fathoms up, nearly to the ceiling where finely polished gemstones hanging in the eaves and vaults of the roof sparkle brilliantly in the light of the two trees. Between the windows hang intricately woven tapestries displaying the symbols of all the different Craft Guilds gently billowing as a breeze passes through the great doors of the hall.

Today the hall is filled with Noldor dressed in their finest clothes and jewels, and so many elves that they had to remove the benches that lined the halls to make more space. Garlands of flowers and vines stretch across the hall- no, not flowers! Finely crafted stones, ores and gems, shaped and arranged so realistically that one who was not accustomed to the Noldor would not even see the difference between these and the most beautiful of Yavanna’s blooms. If the light of the trees were any brighter the scene would be near blinding with the light reflecting off all the gems, metalwork, and polished stone. 

There were also minstrels scattered through the hall, playing soft, joyful melodies and harmonies, for today a new Princess of the Noldor was taking her place in the court.

As the Royal family enters, a hush falls over the hall, so that the very steps of even baby Finarfin, your young brother, can be heard by the elves' ears.

Finwë leads your family in with Indis and baby Finarfin between them, as they pass the people bow, then Fëanor, Nerdanel his wife, pregnant again already! You marvel for a brief moment, and their son Maedhros. Next Fingolfin, your brother, and his betrothed Anarie. 

Then it’s your turn. After you pass, the elves rise from their bow, and when you reach the dias and turn, about to take your seat, they erupt into thunderous applause and cheering.

It took several minutes for the crowd to quiet again so Finwë could properly introduce your joining the court. Such was their excitement to have a new Princess in court, as your sister Findis discovered that court was not for her and had begun contemplating becoming a devotee of Varda. The rest of the court session passed in a blur, so luckily there were not any matters that required your attention.

Unlike Findis, Fingolfin, your brother, had taken to court and politics like a… well like how only a prince of the Noldor could. 

Fëanor too had taken to courtly matters quickly as well, though his true passions were lore and smithing. Even though he was your half-brother, and your eldest sibling, you did not know much more about him then any other elf, as his disdain for Indis, your mother, and Fingolfin, your brother, usually resulted in him visiting seldom, and on the few occasions he did, he was rather haughty, although never to the point of being straight out rude. He seemed rather tolerable on easier topics though, the few times you had the chance to speak.

Perhaps it was seeing how confident Fëanor and Fingolfin were and how sure in themselves and their beliefs they were was what made you hold your head higher, and even began to allow a seed of courage to begin to take root. 

---

Perhaps you should’ve expected someone would ask you about it. It had been controversial from the start, and the memory of elves was long, so it may always be so. But when they asked you if you thought it was fair to Míriel, who was barred from ever being re-embodied when your parents married, it still shook you. For you to say it was unfair would be to say that you wish yourself, your sister, and brothers would never, should never have been born, and your parents never married. 

To say that it was not unfair to Míriel who was to be left dead permanently was to appear callus, saying that she made her choice and should never be returned to life.

Your half brother, Fëanor, the son of Míriel, would never miss the opportunity to argue for justice for his mother. But none could blame him, for he alone in all elves born in Valinor knew the pain of the death of a parent, in the undying lands. And furthermore the strange feeling of the loss of one who will never return. 

Your brother Fingolfin usually took a more delicate approach, recognizing that Míriel did make a choice for herself, so Finwë had the right to do the same for himself.

All this passed through your mind in a flash, and you voiced your support for:

Fëanor’s position that it was unjust to Míriel, and Fëanor himself for he lost his mother permanently. Go to Fëanor’s Position

Fingolfin’s position that Míriel made her choice, sad that it was, and Finwë had the right to seek happiness when Míriel chose to leave, as Manwe, King of All Arda, declared Finwë’s right to remarry. Go to Fingolfin’s Position.

Allowing everyone, including Finwë and Míriel, privacy in difficult decisions such as these and that the discussion of such personal matters should not be a matter of public debate, despite the fact that it was about their King. Go to Privacy for Eru’s Sake!

#be he foe or friend #bhff #my writing #writing #my fanfic #my fic #my fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #silm #silmarillion #the silm #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #silm fic #lalwen #finwe #feanor #fingolfin #finarfin #nerdanel #noldor #valinor #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction