#finrod x maglor

[polutrope]

Snakes and Ladders

for @silmsmutweek Day 1, Prompts: Solo, Rarepairs, Voyeurism.

It is the night of Tirion's masked ball. Fëanáro is after Artanis' hair, Artanis is after a distraction, Macalaurë is deploying all his wiles, and Findaráto is just trying to have a nice time.

Rating: E | No warnings Words: 4.6k Relationships: Galadriel/Maglor, Finrod/Maglor, Undisclosed Characters: Galadriel, Maglor, Finrod, Feanor, Aredhel, Aegnor, Angrod, Caranthir Genre: Humour and Smut.

On AO3

“No, Írissë, it isn’t about the hair,” Artanis said, her voice strained with frustration. “Not entirely, anyway. It is the principle of his request.”

“What do you mean?” asked Írissë.

Artanis sighed. Her cousin was terribly dense sometimes. “Has he asked my father? No, of course not! My brothers? No. He only asks me because I am a woman, and because I am young and insignificant to him.”

“Hm.” Írisse puckered her lips and shifted her mouth to one side. “But none of them has hair as beautiful as yours.”

Artanis fixed her mouth into a frown, resisting the urge to preen. Írissë noticed, though, and giggled into her cup of wine.

“I am sorry, cousin,” she said, “but I fear this is not the last you will hear from our dear half-uncle. Fëanáro is quite obsessive. You will either have to steel yourself against him or relent. But come!” Írissë set her cup down and leapt up, offering Artanis a hand. “We will not be drawn into the fixations and feuds of all these foolish men. A dance, sweet Nerwendë?”

“Very well,” Artanis accepted her hand and stood, “but I’m not returning to that hall without first replacing my mask.”

The disguise that Artanis had chosen for this year’s appearance at Tirion’s masked ball included a tall and unwieldy headdress, its menacing face with beady eyes and forked tongue sitting heavily on her brow. The wide scaly hood, however, had the benefit of concealing her hair.

In the time Írissë and Artanis had been gone, the number of bodies in the hall had doubled. The musicians were whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Artanis scanned the room. Good: Nerdanel had arrived. That should keep Fëanáro in check. She tucked the hem of her skirt into her belt and joined Írissë in the whirling circle. Artanis gave herself over to the dance. She was swept into the swirl of bodies, her heart pounding and her blood coursing hotly. This was when she was most alive, her spirit ignited by the exertion of her body.

The first chords of the next song signalled a partners dance. Artanis spun, grasping for Írissë — but her cousin had already darted off and slipped into the arms of an elf wearing the face and comically large antlers of a great stag, loose silver hair tumbling over his broad shoulders. How obvious. Typical Fëanárion.

Artanis scoffed and jerked her chin away from her only female cousin. A traitor not only to the line of Indis but to women everywhere!

Then a hand brushed her forearm. She tore herself from its groping fingers, prepared to confront the impertinent, presumptuous—

“Seahorse?” Artanis blurted. Now that was original, at least.

The elf laughed, and the lilting sound slithered straight down Artanis’ spine, a pleasant frisson. The slice of skin exposed by the plunging neckline of his robe intensified the sensation.

A smile broadening beneath the long elegant snout of his mask drew her eyes back up. “Cobra?” he said.

“Mm,” Artanis hummed in agreement.

“Excellent. I have somewhat of a natural ability as a snake charmer.”

Ridiculous, Artanis thought, but deepened her voice seductively and said, “We shall see about that,” and found herself in the arms of the handsome — albeit rather short — seahorse, his frilly orange train sweeping behind as he led her to an empty space on the dance floor.

Looking back on the events of that night, Artanis felt that she would have been able to resist the allure of both his voice and attire, but the beguiling smell of him had robbed her of her wits. The longer they danced, the more it filled the air around them: bright but heady, like honeysuckle and cinnamon. No doubt, she later realised, he had perfumed himself thus with the precise aim of seduction but, by the dew of Laurelin, it worked. Artanis was intoxicated.

So it was that when he abruptly flitted off, pressing his lips to her knuckles and murmuring an excuse about a promised rendezvous (“But I will return, my lissome snake!”), she discreetly followed after him.

Despite his vibrant orange costume and her longer stride, this was surprisingly difficult to do. Whatever rendezvous he had planned, it was taking place in some far recess of the Palace. That ought to have put Artanis off her pursuit. But with her heart aflutter and her flesh alight (for the brush of his lips against her hand had spread like wildfire over her skin), the possibility of observing a secret tryst only hardened her resolve.

She followed him through narrow corridors and up winding staircases she did not even know existed in the Palace — indeed, why did they exist? Last, she clambered up a ladder through a hatch in the ceiling. It opened onto a small round balcony set atop a turret.

She peered over the lip of the opening, took note of the two sets of feet facing each other near the railing, and quickly ducked out of sight. She perched near the top of the ladder.

“Where have you been?” someone whispered shortly. (Artanis would surely have recognised the voice, she assured herself later, had her normally keen perception not been blunted by wine and lust.)

“Never mind,” replied the deeper voice of her dance partner. “I am here now, am I not? Come here: I have something I think you will find hard to resist.”

A whine of protest turned to a groan of pleasure. “Mmm,” said the first voice. “So you have made up for lost time. I am afraid I will need some assistance rising to the occasion.”

Artanis’ chest heaved along to the smack of lips joining, a low moan. Jealousy had no place in her thoughts, which were filled with vivid imagery of what might be happening just out of sight.

“Worry not, my golden flower bud. You know I will tend you as diligently as I must, until your petals are all unfurled and glistening with dew.” These words were punctuated by more wet sounds and rustling silk.

Artanis’ hand slid down the neckline of her gown, fingertip teasing at her hardened nipple. Though the gown draped loosely over her chest, her swollen breasts now felt constrained; she hurriedly unclasped the gown down to her sternum, sinking her fingers into her firm but forgiving flesh.

A groan, both irritation and pleasure. “Longer, no doubt,” said the mysterious lover. “You will wait until I am a fruit nearly rotting on the vine.”

The flick of a fingertip over her nipple caused Artanis to gasp audibly. She pinched her lips shut and froze in alarm, but a timely clatter of metal on the tiles saved her from being discovered. Artanis peeked: a belt of linked gold discs set with emeralds had fallen to the ground.

“Not rotting, no. Only until you are swollen with nectar, so that I might lave sweet juices from you with the barest stroke of my tongue.”

This was followed by the unmistakable exhale of one who had just found relief for some pent up ache.

Artanis hooked her feet around the ladder to steady herself. With one hand she resumed kneading her breasts, and the other she placed over the throbbing mound between her thighs.

The hitched breathing of the elf above took on greater urgency and volume, until he was keening with pleasure. Artanis’ fingers pulsed in time with his cries.

“Oh, oh yes, please, like that,” he babbled.

Artanis inhaled the scent of her own desire, her tongue thickened, and her mouth fell open. Her head lolled back against the top rung of the ladder, her hips lifted and she rutted against her palm. A thin wail escaped her throat, and then another, and she could not keep herself from whimpering as the hardness and heat of her arousal uncoiled deep inside her. The ladder dug into the tops of her feet, her toes curled tight. She squeezed her trembling thighs together, crushing her fingers between them.

“Oh, oh. Oh, fuck,” cried the elf above, “I’m going to spill. Oh stars, take your mouth off or I’ll fill your throat. Oooh, eergghhh!”

With the slightest pulsing of her fingers and the lightest circling of her nipple Artanis too was coming, heart thundering, holding her breath to keep from crying out. As she shuddered through the aftershocks of her climax, Artanis heard laboured breathing, a wet pop, and soft laughter.

Then she fell.

~

Despite the loud thud of her body hitting the floor, and, in the next second, the clattering of the ladder coming down on top of her, Artanis managed to scramble out of sight before the two lovers saw her. Holding her headdress up with one hand and her gown closed with another, she hurried back down the way she came — but took a sharp turn before coming too near the hall, eyes seeking some room or nook where she could put herself in order.

A voice from behind halted her.

“Nerwen! There you are!”

Artanis turned to face the tall, lean figure of an elf wearing a mask with a black beak and golden hawk’s eyes. Long, mottled plumes fanned out to either side of his face.

“Aikanáro!” she greeted her brother. “When did you arrive?”

“Not long ago. Have you seen Ingo? Grandmother is looking for him. Apparently he promised to perform some poetry with her.”

“Oh,” said Artanis. She could not recall seeing Findaráto at all that evening. “Are you sure he’s come already?”

Aikanáro snickered.

Artanis narrowed her eyes. “Do grow up. No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Fine. Well, I’m going back to the party. He can make his own apologies to Indis. Why are you here, by the way?” He strode closer to her and reached for the top of her headdress. “And what happened to your hat? Oh — oops. One of your eyeballs fell out.” He held the large black bead out for her to see.

“I tripped,” Artanis said in a hurry, and grabbed the eyeball from her brother. “On my gown. Too much of it.”

Aikanáro laughed. “Ah little Nerwen, you never could manage in a dress. You ought to have worn trousers. Come on, let’s get you straightened out.”

~

Findaráto still had not appeared when Artanis returned to the dance hall, and Indis had started the performance without him. But at the climactic moment of the first canto, describing the raising of the Lamps Illuin and Ormal, suddenly he stood in one of the high arched openings behind the stage. His golden raiment shimmered in the light of Telperion.

The crowd roared their approval of these theatrics, but Artanis caught the look of surprise on Indis’ face. This entrance had not been by design. Artanis tutted and turned to the spread behind her: her brother would get no approval of his antics from her. She plucked a few plump grapes and stuffed olives from the table and added them to her plate.

Then she caught a heady whiff of that cinnamon-honeysuckle scent. Like a spiced wine it sank straight down into her belly and pooled there, pleasantly warm.

“Psst.”

Artanis looked up. With fluid grace, the seahorse-costumed elf slunk over the sill of an open window.

“Don’t tell me you are part of this ridiculous act,” said Artanis.

“What?” He glanced at the stage where Findaráto had begun to dance in time with his recitation. “Oh, no. No, I just got a little lost on my way back and came round the outside. Easier to get my bearings. I hope you will forgive the delay.”

Artanis cleared her throat and tilted her chin towards the ceiling. If only he were taller, she thought, and in her thought she heard the voice of Írissë rejoinder, “Why? You know it makes no difference lying down.”

“Forgive you?” said Artanis. “That will depend on how you intend to make up for it.” Artanis sliced her front teeth through a fat grape and licked a circle around the rim of her parted lips to gather its juices.

Through the openings in the other elf’s mask, she could see his eyes darken.

“Well,” he said, his red lips dancing around the syllable, “the dew is gathering on the primroses about this hour and they are most fragrant—”

“Yes,” said Artanis, who was going to go mad (from both lust and vexation) if she heard one more word about flowers spoken in that dulcet tone. “Let’s go.”

~

It was not well known among Tirion’s elite that the staid and formidable Nerwen Artanis Arafinwiel was as ambitious about the acquisition of lovers as she was about the acquisition of athletic and intellectual accolades. Because Artanis was decisive and efficient, eschewing the coquetry that normally preceded an act of pleasure, it was believed, by those she did not bed, that she was uninterested in such matters. As for those she did bed, the reverence and fear she inspired kept them from making any boasts about having breached the steely exterior of Arafinwë’s daughter — at which each believed him or herself to have been uniquely successful.

This included Canafinwë Macalaurë Fëanorion, who, when he had looked about the dance floor and spotted, on her own, an unusually tall woman with spools of silver-gold hair escaping her headdress, had rearranged the evening’s agenda to include concourse with not one but two children of the House of Arafinwë.

“Won’t you take off that ridiculous mask?” Artanis protested, as the tip of Macalaurë’s seahorse snout brushed the space between her bared breasts.

“Ah, but that would spoil the fun, now, wouldn’t it?” Macalaurë took one swollen breast in each hand, shaping her chocolate-brown nipples into hard peaks with his thumbs. He looked up at her. “I tell you what. I will remove my snout if you will remove but the hood of your headdress. I long to run my fingers through the beautiful hair you are hiding beneath there.”

Artanis shoved him off, hard enough that Macalaurë stumbled backwards over the wet grass. “No. We shall have to make do.” Then she tugged him back, navigating her way around the awkward protuberance of his mask to stick her tongue down his throat.

They were both gasping when she pulled back. “There is one way this could be made significantly easier,” she said. “And fortunately for you, I am in the mood to be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

Then she threw off the rest of her gown, spun around, and bent down nearly in half. She planted her hands on the low garden wall.

Face appearing upside-down between her calves, she commanded: “Come now, get on with it. I have little patience for a drooping stem.”

Macalaurë, all the blood in his brain currently allocated to maintaining the rigidity of said stem, failed to note the reference to his earlier florid blandishments. With all the enthusiasm and cocksure confidence he brought to celebrating victory in the theatrical arena, he thrust into the glistening blossom of Arafinwë’s daughter.

~

What a splendid evening! Findaráto leapt off the stage, landing with another sweeping bow. The applause vibrated in his bones. The success of the recitation (and extempore dance) with Grandmother Indis had been a triumph, and all the more so for how perilously close it had come to disaster. Findaráto should have known better than to trust Macalaurë to be punctual for a warm-up on such an important occasion, but truly there were no other lips or fingers so skilled in all of Eldamar. And then the ladder toppling over! Scaling down the palace walls!

Findaráto laughed and threw his head back. He let it rest there, inhaling deeply. The chandeliers cast a myriad of colours over the domed and tiled ceiling. Marvellous!

A resonant, vaguely threatening voice drew his chin abruptly down.

“Have you seen your sister?”

Findaráto worked to keep the smile plastered across his face. No ‘Well done, nephew!’ Not even a ‘Good evening, Findaráto, how are you?’ Just ‘Where is your sister?’ Fëanáro’s interest in Artanis’ hair, amusing at first, was becoming a worrying fixation.

“Uncle,” Findaráto replied to the elegantly but plainly attired Fëanáro. He wore no costume or mask save a tall plumed headpiece — likely at his wife’s insistence. Fëanáro was vocal in his disdain for wearing disguises, even in fun (and yet his hand in crafting the bedazzled costumes of his sons was unmistakable). “Good evening. No, I have not seen Artanis.”

Fëanáro frowned. “Hm.” He threw back the last of his drink and shoved the glass into Findaráto’s hand. “Would you tell my wife I’ve gone for a walk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Fëanáro spun, heels clicking on the stone floor as he marched towards the hall’s exit.

Findaráto stared at his retreating figure. His mouth flapped uselessly. 'Leave my sister alone!' he wanted to cry. Especially now. Artanis’ proclivities were no secret to her eldest brother and primary confidant (or so Findaráto flattered himself into believing). If Artanis was nowhere to be found at this hour there was almost certainly a salacious reason for it. So far the evening had gone so well! Not even a word of aggression exchanged between the bifurcated lines of Finwë. But if Fëanáro were to catch Artanis in an act of passion—! Findaráto rather doubted the proud son of Míriel would come away unscathed.

By now, Fëanáro was nothing but a black plume rising above the crowd. Findaráto trotted after him.

~

Fëanáro stalked through the garden paths silent and perilous as a panther. Findaráto tracked him. It was due only to his greater familiarity with these gardens, which his uncle shunned whenever possible, that he managed to escape notice.

While keeping an eye on Fëanáro, Findaráto quirked his ears in the direction of various locations he knew from personal experience to be ideal for holding tryst.

His left ear caught on a staccato series of sharp cries. They were coming from the primrose garden. A low moan and murmur soothed the cries into silence. Momentarily — for they started up again almost at once, louder than before, and then broke into speech.

“Aahh, yes, yes! Fuck me, you wanton rogue!”

A knowing grimace tugged Findaráto's mouth down. He was by now mostly inured to the shock of hearing such cries from Artanis' mouth, but no big brother would ever wholly be free of the impulse to drag his little sister away from her ravisher, no matter how willing she might be.

Then he panicked: the path Fëanáro followed was leading him directly to her location. Findaráto broke into a run, thoughts grasping for a clever distraction while his feet raced to stop his uncle.

When he came to a breathless halt and Fëanáro spun on him, he still had no plan.

~

“Then I just blurted: ‘Uncle!’ — he grimaced at that — ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about a point in your recent lecture on the tehtar.’ ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘Er yes,’ I said, frantically trying to remember something from the talk. ‘Ah! Yes, well, as you know, I am fluent in Telerin,’ — he huffed and rolled his eyes at that — ‘and I was interested in your point about the roots of Quenya méla as it relates to Telerin māla.’ He raised his brows impatiently, but his eyes lit up. I think my youthful enthusiasm must have saved me from humiliation. ‘Well, my Telerin prince,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t,’ then he took me by the arm and indulged me with an hour lecture on the coalescing of vowels, which might have gone on until Laurelin’s flowering had not your mother tracked us down and dragged him away. But it was a small price to pay to keep him from coming upon my sister and her lover. Can you imagine!”

Findaráto burst into a fit of laughter.

“Mm, clever Ingo.” Macalaurë nipped Findaráto’s collarbone. His hands tightened around his ribs.

“Ah, that tickles!” Findaráto shrieked.

Macalaurë settled himself on top. Findaráto was still chuckling as he stooped to kiss him. When he pulled away, his lips curled in that way that meant he was about to say something he thought witty: “Lucky you didn’t walk yourself into a bed of thorns.”

“Oh, please.” Findaráto smacked his shoulder.

Macalaurë’s smirk split into a grin. His thumbs followed the curve of Findaráto’s pectorals and toyed with the pearl rings piercing his nipples. When Findaráto responded with a shiver, he slipped his tongue through one of the rings.

Findaráto’s sigh of pleasure ended in another fit of giggles. He could not keep his thoughts from straying to the narrowly-avoided crisis in the gardens.

“Who do you think she was with?” he mused.

Macalaurë groaned and thumped his forehead against Findaráto’s breastbone. “I do not care!” he grumbled, then bracing himself on his elbows and adjusting his hips so that the hard length of his arousal met Findaráto’s abdomen, he said more seductively: “You are with me now, and there is something we need to finish.”

Findaráto’s own arousal jumped in answer, and he allowed himself to be rolled over and hoisted on top of Macalaurë, where their mouths joined hungrily.

It was not long before Findaráto’s neck was thrown back, breath coming in short gasps and hands clenching and unclenching around the sheets, while two slick fingers worked to ease him open. A tongue swirled around the head of his shaft. A shock of pleasure rushed from each point of contact and Findaráto cried out when they met mingled inside him.

Then suddenly he was bereft of both tongue and fingers. “Wha— What, no! Please, don’t stop, I’m— wha—”

A hand clamped over his mouth. “Did you hear that?”

“Herwut?” Findaráto mumbled against Macalaurë’s palm.

A shout and the patter of feet on the stairs answered for him.

“Ingo!” the woman’s voice called.

Ai! Findaráto cursed himself for not speaking to Artanis after the last incident with the wax ‘body painting’. “You have to draw a boundary, Ingo,” echoed Turukáno’s wisdom from the recesses of his memory. Too late now.

“Quick!” he squirmed out from under Macalaurë’s embrace. “It’s Artanis! Under the cover!”

Findaráto sprung up to tug at the blanket bunched at the foot of the bed, but with a flash of skin Macalaurë was out of the bed and—

“NO!” cried Findaráto.

—out the window.

In the same moment he disappeared from sight, the door swung open. “Ingo! You will not believe the evening I have had!” Artanis swept into the room, and her oblivious enthusiasm granted Findaráto precious seconds with which to cover himself.

She perched on the edge of the bed, flinging her cobra headdress onto the mattress beside her.

“Hello sister,” said Findaráto, and smiled.

Artanis laughed. “Ingo, did you know there are hatches in the ceiling of the Palace that lead to little balconies atop the turrets?”

“Mmhmm.” Under the cover, Findaráto’s fingers gripped his knees. His teeth clenched behind his smile.

“Well, there was this elf behaving very oddly — the one dressed as a seahorse, did you see him? — and he slipped off for a ‘rendezvous’, so I followed him.” A pained squeak rose in Findaráto’s throat. “Oh, don’t be a prude, I know you would have done the same. In any case—”

Abruptly, she stopped, her darting eyes landing on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. On top of it lay Macalaurë’s forgotten, and rather mussed-up, seahorse mask.

Her face fell. “Why do you have that,” she said darkly, a pallor of revulsion bleaching the rosy tint from her cheeks.

~

Angaráto was seated on the low portico wall when the nude elf landed in the flowerbed directly in front of him, arms extended like wings and mouth agape, as if shocked he’d stuck the landing.

Grinning smoothly, Angaráto shoved the dark head between his thighs down and draped his other hand casually across his hips.

“Hello Macalaurë,” he said. The body lying prostrate against the wall at his feet grunted. Angaráto kicked it.

Macalaurë blinked, mouth still hanging open.

“Are you lost?” Angaráto asked.

“I…” Macalaurë stammered. While he waited for his cousin to verbalise his thoughts, Angaráto’s eyes darted down the exposed plane of his chest to find him — as expected of one who had fallen naked from his older brother’s window — still half-hard. Macalaurë evidently took this as a sign of interest (which it was, on some level): when Angaráto’s gaze again found his, he was smiling smugly.

Macalaurë dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Lost? Not at all! I was just going for a swim — would you like to come?” His brows waggled suggestively.

This could be fun, Angaráto thought, stamping down on the body beneath him and leaning forward to come closer to Macalaurë. “A swim, eh?” he said.

Then several things happened at once:

The body on the ground sprung up between them, knocking Angaráto’s chin with one shoulder as he swung to shove Macalaurë into the greenery.

“Can you not leave anyone for the rest of us?” growled Macalaurë’s assailant.

“Carnistir?!” Macalaurë cried. “But I thought you hated—”

From upstairs, a shriek louder than both Macalaurë’s disbelieving protests and Angaráto’s roll of laughter: “I cannot believe you let a Fëanárion put his teeth near your—! Ugh!”

“I can’t believe you were listening! How could you not have known it was me?”

This was followed by a cry of dismay and several incomprehensible noises of disgust. “I don’t know! He was very— oh Varda save me! I can’t believe I let a Fëanárion fuck me!”

“You WHAT!?”

“I let him fuck me! After I heard him with you, I went to the gardens and he fucked me. And then he came back here, to you, the insatiable boar!”

But when Artanis and Findaráto appeared side-by-side, torsos thrust out of the upstairs window, shouting “Cáno!” and “You Fëanárian philanderer!”, it was only Angaráto they saw grinning up at them.

Concealed by a high retaining wall, Carnistir and Macalaurë made a slow retreat, mouthing curses, flicking, shoving, and tugging at the other’s hair.

~

The dining room in the seldom-occupied quarters set aside for Fëanáro and his household slowly filled with bodies. Fëanáro beamed as brightly as the rays of Laurelin streaming through the windows as each of his sons took their seats around the table.

When at last they were all assembled, Fëanáro addressed them. “My sons, I am most proud of your appearances last night. Seeing each of you like a jewel amid the crowd—” he ignored several groans “—swells my heart with—” a glimmer stopped him short. Laurelin’s light had caught on a long thread of gold on the tablecloth between Macalaurë and Carnistir.

“What is that?” Fëanáro asked.

His sons mistook the intensity of his tone for displeasure. “Oh, sorry,” they both said at once, reaching for the glorious strand of hair.

“No, let me see that,” said Fëanáro, extending his hand greedily. Macalaurë scowled (poor child, thought Fëanáro, he had clearly had too much drink), then plucked the hair from the table and held it out for his father.

Fëanáro snatched it from him and twisted it around one finger reverentially. He slipped it into a pocket. He looked from Macalaurë to Carnistir, briefly considering which of them— no matter. He had it now, that precious filament of mingled light he had so long sought.

“You did well,” he said to them both.

Sticking his fork into his eggs with satisfaction, he missed Macalaurë whispering to his brother: “Should we tell him?”

“No,” Carnistir replied, and shrugged. “Anyway, who's to say it isn’t hers?

#silmsmutweek #galadriel #maglor #finrod #galadriel x maglor #finrod x maglor #makarato #my fic

[tengwar]

Melancholic emo with his deranged golden retriever bf

#.art #the silmarillion #silmarillion #silm art #maglor #finrod #maglor x finrod #finrod x maglor #makarato #finrod felagund #tolkien #✨

[maglorslostsilmaril]

5 Times the House of Finwe Fought + 1 Time They Didn’t (pt2)

The rest of the Ñoldor arrive in Beleriand expecting to find Fëanáro on the throne. Findekáno is not prepared to find Makalaurë instead.

read in on ao3 here!

Of course it was Findekáno’s least favorite Fëanorians who stood guarding the entrance to their main encampment. Guarding, though, was a loose term. Tyelkormo and Atarinkë stood virtually unarmed before them; likely they were more so awaiting the arrival of Nolofinwë and his party than doing any true guarding of anything.

“Aiya, Nolofinwë!” Atarinkë greeted, stepping forward to meet Findekáno’s father. He led their small campaign of himself, Findekáno, Findaráto and Laurefindil, the eldest (or second eldest, in Findekáno’s case) of their houses. “The actions of my father were meant to dissuade you from crossing the sea, but I see they have been in vain. What would you have with the House of Fëanáro?”

Laurefindil was nearly trembling with rage between Findaráto and Findekáno, for his other mother, wife of Findis, was Telerin and Vanya, but Nolofinwë remained calm. “I seek the counsel of my half-brother, High King Fëanáro.” He said. “For though there has been great grief between us in the past, have I not still crossed the ice to aid him in his battle against Morgoth?”

For a moment, a strange look somewhere between anger and sadness passed over the faces of both Fëanorians, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and Atarinkë sniffed haughtily. “I will bring you to the high king,” he told them, “but it is not your decision whether or not he will see you, and I’ll have you know that I would prefer he didn’t . Findekáno rolled his eyes and a wave of annoyance surged through him.

I know it’s all bluster, Findaráto whispered in his mind, but that doesn’t make me want to punch him any less. Findekáno silently agreed as they followed the brothers through the large barriers and into the camp. It was truly desolate compared to the splendor of Tirion; the buildings were small and unassuming, and the fellow ellons they saw as they wound through the camp looked rather tired and sad, so much unlike the eager crowds Fëanáro had roused in the Darkening. Eventually, they reached the largest building of the camp, three stories tall and the only building remotely the size of the ones Findekáno used to see in Tirion.

“This is the residence of the sons of Fëanáro,” Tyelkormo announced, swinging open one of the large oaken doors. “Morifinwë, fourth eldest, will take you to the High King.” Carnistir appeared from the shadows of the building and silently beckoned them inside, face stony. He said nothing as he led them through the dark halls of the makeshift fortress until they reached another pair of doors. Carnistir shot them another glare and then slipped inside. Findekáno could hear muffled speaking from inside, and then Carnistir reappeared and beckoned them into what Findekáno assumed to be the throne room.

It was a room maybe the size of Findekáno’s old bedroom, and around ten times less interesting. There was nothing in it except for a small dias at the far end of the room with a wooden throne atop it and a Fëanorian star carved into the wall above it. On the throne sat Makalaurë, with Ambarto and Ambarussa flanking either side of it. Ambarto was covered in what appeared to be burn scars, and Makalaurë looked deeply exhausted. Nolofinwë blinked, and Findekáno could feel the confusion radiating off of his father and cousins as well as himself. Beside him, Findekáno saw Laurefindil nearly hold Findaráto back as the other blonde fought not to rush up to Makalaurë’s side. Findekáno didn’t blame him; Laurefindil would have had to hold him back too, should Russandol be sitting there in front of him. Speaking of Maitimo…

“Where is Fëanáro?” His father asked. “Or Nelyafinwë? Even if the King is unavailable, I should like to at least speak with the Crown Prince.”

“The high king has been gracious enough to receive you,” Carnistir said blankly. “Whether or not you wish to see him is your choice.” Findekáno shared a look with his cousins, dread slowly replacing confusion as he looked back up at Makalaurë’s tired, grief-stricken face. Even if something happened to his uncle, Maitimo should have been on that throne.

“What do you mean?” Nolofinwë frowned. “Are both Fëanáro and-”

“ Fëanáro is dead. ” Makalaurë whispered, standing shakily from the throne. “My father was killed by valaraukar upon our arrival in Valariandë .” Every member of Nolofinwë’s campaign audibly gasped, sans Laurefindil who stared impassively up at Makalaurë. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut; everything he’d done was fueled by anger at his uncle and his love for Nelyafiwe and his friends in Valariandë , and now…Fëanáro, the everlasting figure who’d shaped his life with his actions for centuries was just…gone. Just like that. Findekáno didn’t even know if he felt sad or not. Fëanáro had been kind to him once, but Morgoth had twisted him, and taken all of the good aspects of him away.

“And…Nelyafinwë?” His father questioned, voice choked. Makalaurë looked away and the twins winced. Findekáno couldn’t tell if Carnistir had flinched or not. The dread was growing, along with preemptive fear for the fate of Nelyo, his Nelyo-

“Crown Prince Nelyafinwë was captured in a parley with Morgoth.” Makalaurë said tightly. “Though his true livelihood is unknown, it is…kinder to assume that he had been killed and resides with our father in the halls. As of right now, I am the high king of the Ñoldor.” Findekáno felt like he had the time Irisse had pulled a rug from underneath his feet; surprised and scared of the impact to come. That and sudden, all-consuming grief mixed with a healthy dose of anger. Anger at Morgoth for taking him, at Nelyafinwë for parley-ing with Morgoth, and at Makalaurë for leaving his brother in the hands of Morgoth!

“ Iluvatar,” Nolofinwë ran a shaking hand down the back of his head and Makalaurë stepped down from the dias to meet them, the twins just behind. “No attempt has been made to return the Crown Prince.” His jaw dropped. They just left him there! Just like that!

Makalaurë shook his head, an unidentifiable emotion on his face. “Not one member of Nelyafinwë’s party returned from Angband. It is too dangerous to go after him, and yet we are powerless to meet his demands for Nelyafinwë’s release. The way across the sea is closed to us. Our hands are tied; we can do nothing but hope Iluvatar will take pity on his fëa.” At Makalaurë’s words, Findekáno’s anger surged forward, overtaking even his overwhelming grief.

“What do you mean you haven’t gone after him!? ” He cried, pushing past his father to face Makalaurë head on. His cousin blanched, and Findekáno vaguely registered his father’s apologies over the roaring in his ears and the stinging tears in his eyes.

“You don’t understand, Findekáno, we don’t have the forces-”

“So Nelyo is only worth the forces it would take to save him?” he protested, jabbing Makalaurë in the chest. His cousins flinched. “He’s the crown prince of the Ñoldor, he’s your brother, he’s my-”

“It’s too dangerous, ” Makalaurë spat, turning back up the dias. “And Nelyo- and Nelyafinwë would agree with me, were he here.” In the corner of Findekáno’s eye his father nodded, and Findaráto stepped up to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Kanafinwë is right,” his father said, stepping past Findekáno once more after Findaráto gently tugged his eldest back. “Forgive me, Kanafinwë , but this camp is clearly not in a position to withstand another loss, not one that could be prevented. You know that Nelyafinwë would agree, Findekáno; he would want us to grow stronger in the wake of his loss, not lose everything trying to make up for one ellon, no…no matter how much it hurts to leave him.”

“ No! ” he yelled, wrenching himself out of his cousin’s grasp. How could his father say such a thing? He had no doubts the lengths his father would go to had it been Anaire or himself or his siblings in the same situations. “No, you can’t pretend that this is over just like that! What is wrong with you, his family? How could you leave him behind like this?”

“I told you!” Makalaurë hissed, whirling around to face them once more. His brothers shifted uncomfortably, and Findekáno could feel Carnistir’s glare on his back as he trembled with anger. It was running through him like fire no matter what his father and cousin tried to smother it. “Nelyafinwë’s loss is a tragedy, but it is not one we can afford to dwell on, no matter-”

“ Can’t afford to dwell on? ” Findaráto asked. He laid another placating hand on Findekáno’s shoulder, dutifully ignoring how his seething cousin shrugged it off and placing it right back on his shoulder. “Laurë, please, he’s just grieving , and I know you are too. You don’t have to pretend it’s all in the past. Please, Laurë this isn’t a performance, you don’t have to act like you’ve moved on. ” Makalaurë looked pained as he gazed down at his (former?) lover.

“Please, let us focus on the matter at hand, Ingo. Nolofinwë, I assume you had concerns and queries before you knew of our, ah, losses, so maybe we can move on to that?” he deflected. “I assure you, this is for the good of our people-”

“Will you stop talking about moving on? ” Findekáno cried, smacking Findaráto’s hand away again. Anger was roaring through him, hot and burning; he couldn’t extinguish it if he tried. His lover, his Russ, in Angband, and no one was doing anything.

“Findekáno, please.” Nolofinwë warned. “I promise no one has forgotten about Nelyafinwë, but I think Kanafinwë is right, we have thousands of our scared, hungry and confused people a day's ride away and right here in this settlement. Don’t you think Nelyafinwë would want us to put their needs above the needs of one person?”

“Maitimo would help that one person and everyone else! My Russ would never leave anyone behind, he wouldn’t leave any of you behind!” Findekáno exclaimed, stalking up to where Makalaurë stood on the dias. The twins and Carnistir scooted closer as if to protect their older brother, but Makalaurë’s face hardened. “You’re all cowards, all of you, for leaving him behind! Cowards! What makes you think-”

“ Will you shut up!?” Makalaurë shouted, Song ringing through his cry. Findekáno toppled off the dias onto the floor at his father’s feet. He opened and closed his mouth, but not a sound would come out. “Findekáno, he told us not to come for him! He knew Morgoth might kill them, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he might not come back, and he knew that we’d lose even more trying, and so he told us to leave him behind should anything happen. He also told us to keep it a secret so that hate for Morgoth would only grow rather than make people think he led people into a parley for the silmarils knowing they could very well all die.”

“ No ,” Findekáno breathed. His voice was slowly returning as he scrambled up from the floor.

“ Yes!” his cousin exclaimed. “Do you think that I don’t miss my brother? That I don’t feel guilt over leaving him every second of every day, despite doing so on his direct orders, that I don’t care about everyone in this encampment saying the exact same things as you? I miss him every day, Finno, just as much as you! I know, you think it should be me instead, but you can’t change the fact that he’s gone, and I will not disregard the last orders of my brother just because you don’t think I care he’s gone!”

Makalaurë stood on the dias, chest heaving. Nobody spoke as the High King sank to his knees and dissolved into loud, wailing sobs. Findekáno didn’t know what he would say. It was so easy to be angry at Makalaurë, because at least his words would have some sort of effect; he could do nothing against the one who truly took his love, but now he found he couldn’t be angry at his cousin either. The twins rushed over and gently sat their brother back on the throne. Carnistir coughed from the side of the room, shooting Findekáno’s father a glance.

“I…ah…believe that this meeting is over.” Nolofinwë grimaced, pulling him away from the dias. “We can reconvene tomorrow if you please, my king.” Makalaurë sniffed and waved them away, and Findekáno despondently followed his father and cousin from the throne room. His voice had returned from Makalaurë’s command, but now that his anger had gone his grief was so heavy that it took his words from him all over again.

The only reason he’d come to Valariandë was to stay with Nelyafinwë. Thirty years across the ice full of pain, grief and despair later, he’d arrived in Valariandë only to find yet another loved one dead, and this time it was the one Findekáno cared about more than anything.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #5 times they fought and 1 time they didn’t #fingolfin #fingon #finrod #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #Amrod #amras #glorfindel #finweans #the sons of feanor #russingon #maglor x finrod #finrod x maglor #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic #my writing

[doodle-pops]

Think You Can Warm Me Up

[Elves and Cockwarming x reader]

Request: What elves do you think would like cock-warming? - anon

A/N: This was a lot of elves to think for since I've added more over the months gone by. Enjoy!!!

Warning: smut, cockwarming

More: Brat Taming

Loves it – sometimes when they’re too busy to have sex with you but you want to feel them, they’ll suggest you sit on their lap, only to feel them raising your body slightly to slide themselves into you. When you lift your hips to move, their hands will be planted firmly on your waist with a stern look on their faces warning you to stay still. They’ll keep their hands on your waist, using it to pull you closer to rest against their chest and hold you down. Some use it for punishment when your bratty side comes out. They’ll rile you up by making out with you, having you grind on them feeling as though you two are about to have sex, but then when you’re about to ride them, they’ll lean in to whisper, “Not so fast love, no moving, sit right there and stay still or I’ll leave you empty. You thought I’d just give in and give you what you wanted, my poor confused little one” Other times, they’d use it to literally warm themselves up. When you two are relaxing as such, they’d throw the suggestion out to you and once you agree, the two of you will just be lounging about with their cock buried in you, staying warm. There are times you’ve fallen asleep with them buried in you. “You feel so warm and tight love, stop shifting so much, just stay still. This feels good, now we can cuddle.”

MAEDHROS, Maglor, CELEBRIMBOR, FINGOLFIN, FINGON, Finarfin, FINROD, AEGNOR, GLORFINDEL, GALDOR, BELEG, Rog, Elrond

Hates it – the first time you suggest the act, they were down to try it, but once you sank your warm hole onto their cock, it was over for them. Their hands would immediately shoot out to grab your waist, urging you to move but you’ll simply push it away and lean into their chest informing them that you’re not supposed to move. “It’s called cockwarming for a reason. Now stay still. Don’t get mad, remember you agreed to this, so sit and enjoy it.” This was absolute torture for them, they couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing that if they moved their hips right then, you’d probably hop off and that wasn’t part of their plan. Waiting till you were settled in and comfortable, with ease, their hands would sneak around your waist holding you firmly to their chest and without any warning, begin thrusting into you. You’d admit that this was not how you planned the session to go but with the way the tip of their cock was brushing against your soft spot, your moans gave it away. Now whenever you suggest it to them, they’d smile at you saying that they’ll behave, only to abuse your heat as soon as you sink down on their cock. The longest they’ve ever lasted was five seconds. “If you really thought I’d sit through all that torture, you’re absolutely wrong. Now be a good girl/boy and enjoy my cock.”

FEANOR, CELEGORM, Curufin, Turgon, ARGON, ANGROD, EGALMOTH, ECTHELION, MAEGLIN, ELLADAN

Mixed feelings – one minute it’s torture for them the other it’s blissful. It just all depends on their mood not so much yours. If they’re tired and just want to be warmed or you want to feel them, they’d let you go ahead without interrupting you. They’d simply wrap their arms around you and pull you in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead and drifting off to sleep. Other times it’s when they’re busy doing paperwork and could do with a little relief. Letting you sit on their lap with the table hiding their cock buried deep in your heat, they’d let you lean into them so they could continue their work. “This feels good, didn’t think I’d be needing this, but after I’m finished here, I’d bend you over this table for a good fuck, hmm.” When you’re teasing them all day and acting up and then decide it’s time to kick it up a notch by making them feel you were about to ride them after your tedious torture only to sit still on their cock, now you’re just asking for it. They’d be grinding their teeth the entire time when you tell them not to move while pretending to do something important, informing them that when you’re finished then you two can go at it, they’re not going to listen, not when you were suffocating their cock. They wouldn’t care at that point, so say goodbye to whatever it was that you were doing. “Don’t you think this is a little too much love, don’t you think this has gone on for too long because I think so as well. How about we change that by having me fuck you, now.”

Maedhros, MAGLOR, CARANTHIR, Amrod, Fingolfin, FINGON, TURGON, FINARFIN, Finrod, AEGNOR, Glorfindel, GALDOR, Egalmoth, ROG, ERESTOR

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @lilmelily

#reactions #silm smut #maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #celebrimbor x reader #fingolfin x reader #silmarillion x reader #fingon x reader #finarfin x reader #finrod x reader #aegnor x reader #glorfindel x reader #galdor x reader #rog x reader #elrond x reader #feanor x reader #celegorm x reader #caranthir x reader #curufin x reader #amras x reader #amrod x reader #turgon x reader #argon x reader #angrod x reader #ecthelion x reader #egalmoth x reader #erestor x reader #elladan x reader #maeglin x reader #doodlepops writings ✨

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Finrod: I used to make out with Maglor after concerts, I can’t court my ex’s brother, that’s practically incest, it would feel wrong!

Celegorm *watching with popcorn because he and Curufin are codependent as fuck*: It’s literal incest! You two are first cousins! We are already way past the threshold of worrying about that!

#silmarillion #tolkien #incorrect quotes #Shitpost #curufinrod #celegorm #curufin #finrod #maglor #maglor x Finrod

[witchofhimring]

To you who is lost

Chapter 1: Duty is the death of love

Chapter synopsis: Your husband leaves for despair and death. Left behinde, you are left at the mercy of others.

Warnings: Angst, abandonment, crying, pregnancy

Note: Usually I save notes for the end but this time I will also put some at the beginning. I am using their Quenya names (ex. Maedhros is called Maitimo).

Emmeril, Airin and llë are my OC's

You would lament thereafter for the lack of foresight. The wise in Arda would mourn their kindred, who had stepped out of bliss and into woe. Nerdanel, Amarië, Anairë, these great women of the Blessed Realm were linked in sorrow to those left behind. You joined this tragic assembly, united in regret. Days would waste away as you asked " What was there to be done?". Anguishing over every time you could have forestalled these harrowing events.

It had been a storm, slowly strengthening until its power was too great to prevail. Deceived, one and all had been taken in. Melkor's repentance had seemed so genuine. Save Tulkas and Curufinwe none had heeded any notion of trickery. Now the dark Vala's laughter rang in Angamando, echoing off the stone walls. In your own halls, you sighed. Brought so low you were a specter of the beautiful young elf maiden whose laughter had lit up Tirion. These days were dark with the Alduya felled.

"Will you come to bed?" Amarië, whose suffering was as great as yours, came forward. Together they cast their gazes to the darkness beyond. All of Arda had been plunged into an impenetrable shadow. Amarië's light was much dimmed, her golden hair hanging forlornly. She had always been pale and thin but her boundless joy had given her strength which many envied. They need envy no longer. Findaráto had sworn to return and Amarië held him to it. She was bound to him, although not formally, and believed he would return. For a time Amarië would remain before departing. She would dwell in her home and wait for Findaráto.

You had been gifted no such reassurance. Cast off, Maitimo had spurned every vow he made. Bitter words were exchanged, things that could not be unsaid. Unlike Amarië's stalwart serenity, you had wept. Your marriage had been waning for some time now. When Curufinwe stormed into exile you followed to Formenos. In Formenos you would lose your husband.

The laws of the Eldar commanded that husband and wife be one in all things. Never had you any cause to doubt these customs. Naturally, a husband and wife must cleave together. Growing up in a big, tightly-knit family, a certain worldview had been formed. There was never any doubt that if you married your husband would always protect you. And how could you not? Your father had always been so devoted to your mother, his desire to make her happy endless.

Your worldview had been, to a degree, changed when you married Maitimo. The house of Finwe had been in turmoil for quite some time. Since Finwe cemented his union Indis despite the protests of his son Feanaro, his progeny had torn at one another. Though to Nolofinwe's credit, the war was pitifully one-sided. Even those who had never encountered either prince heard of the brotherly animosity. A pungent cloud of this great house, many feared for the day a storm would break. Coming from a close family this was something of an anomaly. Your father had quarreled with his brothers, but nothing could sunder their bond. Your mother had her gripes with her sisters, but their love always brought them together again. Being the eldest of your family you had the unenviable job of keeping rambunctious youngers siblings in line. However no matter what troubles came your, love and affection remained. Perhaps this made the end inevitable.

You begged him not to leave that day. The death of High King Finwë plunged all of Arda into grief. Sickening amounts of blood were saturated into the ground. From there after that very spot was stained by Melkor's vile deed. The smell sent your head reeling and burning bile to bubble. You had never seen a dead body before and abhorred the slaughter of animals. They might think you weak for it, but you knew this sight would curdle the blood of even the most austere of elves. Wails of despair took the place of joy. The light had faded and everything became dark. If only it had stopped there, oh by Eru how you wished this was the worst.

It all started on a day filled with joy. Manwë had summoned the Houses Fingolfin and Curufinwë, ordering peace between the two families. Brother took brother in hand and promised peace and friendship. Though how sincere Curufinwë was remained unknown. Many times you had witnessed Curufinwë rage over his younger brother. He howled over the "spawn of Indis" and cursed him. Such festering resentment could not be swept aside by simple sweet words. "I know we should be glad. But I can not help feeling dread." Maitimo simply took your hand in his. "I assure you that nothing bad will happen." His smile reassured you. Oh how wrong he was. When the darkness fell confusion and fear reigned. Finwë was dead, the Silmarills stolen and half of the Edain of Valinor gone. The only respite was Arafinwë returning to take leadership.

All the lights went out. Melkor had drained the trees of all their light, and from there he fled. But there was no running from the darkness. Warmth and light were replaced by darkness and dread. Wails of the bereft took the place of laughter. You who had once been so full of joy had only despair for company. Things had been far from perfect even before the oath. When Curufinwë had been exiled your husband went with him. Of course, you understood his duty as the eldest son. But it didn't make the move from Tirion to Formenos. That day you had to leave behind all those you loved. Try as you might to sway Maitimo to stay, it worked to no avail. In those days you would have done anything for him, and so where he went you followed. You tried not to complain. Even when Curufinwë's temper became unbearable, or your friends stopped sending letters. You could not blame them, living in the court of temporary King Nolofinwë and keeping in touch with you was risky. At least your family was supportive. Your younger sisters and brothers But even in those cold days you still would never have thought Maitimo would leave you. The years had been trying, but he still cared for you in those days. Years later in the dead of night, as you lay awake, you wondered if every "I love you" had been a lie.

"Please, if you have ever loved me you would stay." He did not meet your eyes. He just looked back to the army assembling in the courtyard below. "Have I not followed you all these years? What could I have done for you to cast me aside!" You seized his arm. Gently he pried you off him. "Y/n, you must understand that I have to go. Of course you may follow me-" "I have done nothing but follow you! Maitimo this is suicide!" It was at this point your father in law chose to appear, ascending the steps in a storm of fury. "If you do not choose to follow your husband, as you are sworn to do, then you are no wife!" Temperamental, yes, but now there was the flame of madness dancing in his eyes. Curufinwë had taken leave of his senses. "My vows said that I would follow him as my conscious dictates! As your wife has stayed in Valinor so shall I." The comment was poorly timed. Anger beat so furiously in your chest that you thought not of the consequences. With a roar of unbridled fury, Curufinwë drew his sword. Horrified, both you and Maitimo stepped back. The tip was right at your neck, an inch further would slice the flesh. "Depart, faithless wretch! And do not let me find you lurking in these hall again lest I strike you dead!" Maitimo drew you away and behind him. "You will cease your insults of my wife." You stared up at him in awe. Here he was standing up to his father, possibly the greatest of the Noldor. You had thought at that moment Maitimo had seen sense. He led you off to a room, away from his father and the chaos below.

"Maitimo!" You flung your arms around his shoulders. An elated kiss was placed on his forehead. But his eyes were sad with what you later realized was guilt. Gently he pried you off of him. He was gentle but his actions indicated he wanted to put distance between you and himself. "Do-?" You were unable to finish. Maitimo closed his eyes and whispered something so quietly under his breath you almost missed it. Almost. "Please." "Maitimo?" Your temporary relief was dashed as quickly as it came. "Y/n, I must follow my father." One could hear a pin drop. Your world had been torn apart, fractured almost beyond repair. "My Lord-Maitimo! You must not!" Your body was shaking, horror gripping you like a vice. Your legs seemed unable to hold themselves, such was the agony you felt at that moment. Falling to your knees, you started to beg.

"Husband, if you have any love for me then-" Suddenly Maitimo's could not even meet your eye. "You will not sway me Y/n." His voice was hard, cold, a tone he had recently adopted and that reared its head more and more frequently. You could not believe what you were hearing. Your husband seemed to disregard the bond between man and wife, that they must always stay side by side. And here he was abandoning you at your hour of need. You were scared. Finwë was dead and the rest were in self imposed-exile. The journey ahead scared you. To leave the safe haven of Valinor was suicide. You could understand avenging the King, you had great love and respect for him. And as King he must be avenged. But this was beyond simple revenge. This very act would tear apart the house of Finwë, and all of Valinor. Your family. Curufinwë's heart had turned dark and following him to this end. And there was another, more overriding reason. A shaking hand went to your stomach.

It could be a lie to say that everything had been perfect before the darkening. Hard to admit, but your presence in the family was not welcomed by everyone. Curufinwë and his son who shared the same name looked upon you with disdain. You were to head-in-the-clouds for them to ever like. You tried, only to end in ridicule and failure. The escalation was partly your fault, afraid of causing trouble Maitimo was never told. Looking back, telling Maitimo might have been wiser. Alas, you did not. This was not to say the rest were unkind. Never had there been a great closeness between Tyelkormo, Carinstir and yourself, there was also never ill blood either. Though you were better acquainted with the latter's wife, Ilë. Macalaurë had always been kind but rather unapproachable, him being so proud. You supposed that was what Emmeril liked about him. The twins you were the closest to, out of the lot, Telvo and Pityo. His cousins hailing from the house of Nolofinwë you held a greater preference for. Save Turokáno who thought you rather silly.

There lay a great enmity between the houses Curufinwë and Nolofinwë. Or rather, Curufinwë held a deep mistrust and dislike of his younger brother. The ill sentiment had spread like a poison to all his kin, even the children. During the exile in Formenos you were forced to meet Findecáno and his younger sister, at times with Arakáno. Those years had been hard, especially for those such as Turkafinwë and Maitimo who forged deep bonds with their kin. Curufinwë the younger missed Írissë, despite his attempts to hide it. Those years in Formenos had been horribly lonely, bereft of company. With a family far away and friends forced to stay in Tirion company was limited. Only two friends had accompanied you. But denied company they soon started to despair. Despite what it cost you have them leave. Many tears had been shed that day. The resentment between the various members of Curufinwë started to devour the residents. Anger brewed, bitterness ensued.

"And Indis's brood wander those halls, our halls! What right... what claim does the House of Indis have to my father's throne! The throne of my forefathers!" Around Curufinwë's table everyone sat, save Ilë who pleaded exhaustion. The rest of you were not spared Curufinwë's rage. Sitting next to Maitimo your hands shook, his hand on your knee. The twins sat closest to their father, though Telufinwë not leaning in as close. Turkafinwë's seemed unusually thoughtful, for such a brash elf. Curufinwë the younger's face was obscured from shadow, his silent wife beside him. Morifinwë was leaning in towards Curufinwë with a red flush crawling up his face. Kanafinwë and Emmeril sat on the sidelines, observers of Curufinwë's rant. You would give anything to leave this table.

"What of our Uncle Arafinwë?" Maitimo was far too fond of his half-uncles for Curufinwë's liking. You could see his thin pale lips tighten. His dark blue eyes, bloodshot, narrowed in on Maitimo. "He is his mother's son." Curufinwë's stance was clear. Your thoughts went to Amarië who you had not seen in years. Last you heard Findaráto had pledged to marry her. Wondering if Curufinwë would allow you to attend their wedding, you looked outside. Formenos was cut off from the rest of Valinor. Held up in these mountains it was hard to see anything else. It only served to make you feel more nervous.

"Though, I do wonder if not everyone is paying attention." Curufinwë's tone made it seem he was scolding a child. Except it was you. "My apologies." Quickly covering your mistake, you sat there rigidly. "My wife meant no offense." Maitimo was swift to defend. Curufinwë looked ready to say more but chose to abstain. All you could do was stare at your lap, numb with anxiety.

Maitimo had changed. The bleakness and chill of Formenos had worn on everyone. Exhaustion had settled over the residents like a heavyweight. Loneliness became a constant companion, stalking you like a specter. In the beginning, it was not so bad. You spent time making this place a home. A small garden was built in the courtyard with help from Maitimo. Carefully you tended to the delicate petals, their white petals reflecting light. He would wind them in your hair, cascading down in a waterfall of flowers. They spent much of their time holed up inside their room. It became a safe haven, a world that separated themselves from all the torments outside. Light blue curtains adorned the windows, you had elected for a more simple style. Windows were left open a crack letting fresh air in. At times like these you could forget about everything.

The years passed and the bond between husband and wife started to crumble. A great toll was upheaving this family. Twelve years was but the link of an eyes to elves. For this family however, it dragged on. Every moment served to increase Curufinwë's rage and desire to avenge himself burned within. Like a disease it spread, its symptoms laying low the spirits of his heirs. Maitimo became sullen and the fire within seemed to flicker. The letters hailing from Tirion, where his beloved cousin Findecáno resided, remained unopened for days. When Maitimo finally did dare to gaze upon the contents they were for him only. Afterwards Maitimo would grow sullen once more and would disappear. Behind his back, although it brought guilt, you read its contents. It was the words of a cousin who missed his friend. He talked of times past and expressed joy in those to come. "I hope for further joy, so that all ill will become forgotten." He had written. Letters arrived from your sister as well. Airin was the closest in age to you, being only a few years your junior. Residing in the court of Anairë, Airin would provide information. King Nolofinwë ruled wisely and was much loved. Such tidings brought you no joy. Eru knew what Curufinwë might say. She was not the only one to bring information, Findecáno wrote to you as well, with affection that did little to curb a growing fear. He wished you well, that the days bring peace, but those words soothed not. There lingered an underlying anxiety to his words. Try as he might to cover it up.

"My dear daughter, we are well. But it would truly warm our hearts to know you too are well. Do not forget that all of us (yes, all of us) miss you dreadfully" Those letters remained in a safe wooden box. Sometimes you would read them when lonely. Even your brothers, who were a great many years younger, had written. Sadly, letters were no substitute for true company. Ilë, wife of Carnistir, was a good friend. But as time dragged on Ilë retreated and clung to her husband. Less and less she patrolled the halls, staying with her husband in solitude. Making friends with the other elf maidens, there was still a poignant loneliness. All they did was remind you of those left behind.

"It is merely your father's words, my love. Your uncle would never harm any of us." Your husband's anguish hurt you in turn. As a wife it was agonizing to know his pain and yet have no balm to heal the wound. Another one of Findecáno's letters lay forlornly on the bedside. Instead of bringing joy they served to torment. Maitimo was slumped against his chair by the windows. His bright blue eyes were focused on the mountains beyond. You stood beside him, fingers running through his red hair. For a while you said nothing. Gently you stroked his cheek which was unusually sallow. Leaning forward you kissed the cheek. Slightly, he leaned into your affection. "I know you will do what is right." Had those words strengthened him, or heaped on yet greater pressure onto Maitimo.

Everything changed when that great host left Valinor. You were left alone and exposed with no one to protect you. Everyone was either gone or wanted nothing to do with you. Maitimo had ordered those of his followers who stayed behind to protect you. But would they be able to? And could you, in good conscience, place those who were under your care into great danger? Thank Eru Arafinwë took pity on your condition. You had been barricaded in Formenos for fear when the youngest son of Finwë and his host came upon the fortress. To your surprise, he brought along Indis and Nerdanel. Despite your disgrace, they brought you with them to Tirion.

You sat on a bench with an outlook to the garden below. Despite its glamorous beauty, it brought you no joy. There was no light for the Two Trees had been utterly drained. It felt like divine providence, the trees set and your love as gone. Now it was dark as the hole in your heart. "Y/n, dear, you should no linger in the cold for so long. "Nerdanel stepped out onto the outlook. " Is it dinner already?" You drew your cloak tighter around yourself. Instinctively your hands cradled your ever expanding belly. "Yes. And Indis has prepared your favourite." At one times these temptations would have been rather tempting. But no food could fill you. Not now. "If not yourself then at least for him." "You are so certain?" Coming from Nerdanel the Wise the idea she might already know was not preposterous. Relenting, you got up. The baby was all you had left.

"And are we to forget that this woman chose to go into exile, against all common sense and decency." It was as you expected. Even with the new Lord of the Noldor beside you. It was Arafinwë's first council as leader (would that make him King now?) in the great halls. You remembered that last time you had been here. How Curufinwë unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his own brother. You recalled the horror and revulsion on the audience's face, and now all their eyes were on you. Every important lord and lady of Valinor were judging you. It hurt to know that some of them had once been your friends. Perhaps everything had been a lie. Your husband despised you and the rest of Valinor bore mistrusted.

"You forget, My Lord, that as a Princess and member of her lord husband's household, she was bound to follow him to whatever ends. It was only when it all became too much did Y/n depart from her husband. Her moral convictions won out, and despite their fëas being one she forsook him." Arafinwe's voice held a steely edge you had not yet heard before. The youngest son of Finwë was often misconceived as being shy, timid even. This was a misconception, he was simply quiet. Never should one misconstrue kindness for complacency. But one should never be complacent with the belief that silence means stupidity. Arafinwë stood up, white robes billowing behind him. You felt Nerdanel place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Have we fallen so far that we would attack a lonely woman? If we are to proceed with revenge in this matter, are we truly worthy to live amongst the Vala and Maia?' Some had the grace to look ashamed. Despite this, there were still some who had misgivings.

"My Lord, if I may speak." Lady Nimlothel served the house of Nolofinwë, more specifically it was his Lady wife she owed her allegiance to. With an elegant stride, she took the floor. "You may." Arafinwë answered, although his eyes looked wary. "The Lady Y/n is not responsible for her husband's ill deeds. Although I would like to add that Lady Nerdanel never fled into exile, a most wise decision. I suggest that the Lady Y/n retire, at least for a time. It would be unwise to allow such a remnant of Curufinwë's treachery to remain here." You felt so cold, so alone. They might not lock you up, but exile was little better. You would hide away, a forgotten remnant in a far off castle. An embarrassing chapter of Arda's history. Arafinwë sat down, troubled. "This council is dismissed. We shall convey at morning tomorrow."

"We may reside by my parent's hearth. They extend this offer to you too." Emmeril had bolted the chest shut. Sitting on a bed you watched Makalaurë's wife hastening departure. She along with Airin, wife of Curufinwë the Younger (your husband's brother) remained in Valinor. Ilë alone had departed, swearing to follow her husband Morifinwë, to whatever end. You prayed to Eru she would be well. Airin had long since departed. Saddened over the loss of husband and son she departed, destination unknown.

"My Lady, is that all?" One of Emmeril's handmaidens entered. "Take these out to the yard, then we depart." Once the handmaiden departed Emmeril turned to you. "What do you hope to accomplish by staying?" The bond between Emmeril and yourself had never been great. It was not personal dislike so much as never truly understanding one another. Emmeril was stern and hard, chafing against your soft and easy nature. But she had never been cruel or given you reason for mistrust. Emmeril's reasoning was wise in this matter. Leaving Tirion could allow you to start anew. You might have done so if it were not for the babe that dwelt within you. What sort of life would your child have? A permanent exile for the rest of their days? Could you even call yourself a mother while condemning a child to such a fate? Emmeril may think you a fool, and perhaps she was right to think so. But you would not reveal this secret to her. Now was not the time and frankly you were not ready.

Emmeril did not stay long, but departed for her family's home. You watched her go until the last of her horses were over the hill. The room suddenly felt colder, more forlorn. A choked sigh bordering on sobs left your mouth. At times like these you would have walked in the garden with Ilë. Only it was pitch black out and Ilë was gone. A soft knock at your door alerted you. Amarië swept in, pink silk trailing behind. "Y/n, Nerdanel wishes to give council." Rising up you followed Amarië. The hallway was obscured with shadows, torches providing ailing light. Even with windows barred shut you could still feel a draft. Even Amarië seemed to feel it, drawing her robe tighter. Every step echoed in these silent halls. Most had either fled Tirion or barricaded themselves in their rooms. Only guards remained patrolling the halls.

Nerdanel had taken quarters next to Queen Indis. Was Indis even still queen? Suspiciously guards regarded your presence. "Lady Nerdanel had sent for Lady Y/n. Queen Indis is aware." They let you in with a look of reluctance on their faces. The swords on their sides glimmered in the torchlight. Only a short time ago none dared to disregard the Valar's ordinance. Now none dared leave their rooms without protection. Such were these sad times. Nerdanel bore her usual attire, baggy brown pants and a white shirt. Her hair, Nerdanel had her back turn to you, was tied in a loose braid. Rubble and tools lay scattered. When Amarië cleared her throat Nerdanel seemed to finally take notice. "Lady Amarië, thank you." Amarië curtsied and made to leave. "Hold-" "I must depart. Lady Nerdanel wishes to speak to you in private." Now it was just Nerdanel and you. Nerdanel lightly kicked a hammer out of the way and picked up a tray. You smelt citrus and a hint of cinnamon. Sitting down you watched Nerdanel pour a cup of tea. "Care for some?" You nodded. You had the feeling this conversation was not simple idle chat.

Nerdanel did not beat around the bush. After a sip, her grey eyes focused on you. The look was not critical, but the one she adopted when an important topic was at hand. "I heard Emmeril offered you a place at her family home. Why did you not go?" She was not being critical, just inquiring. "I have never been close to Emmeril. It would be an intrusion on my part." Nerdanel poured another cup. "Will you remain here indefinitely?" "Nerdanel I do not know what to do. I am lost. In leaving I condemn myself and the baby to exile. In staying ill may come too, for those that support the Houses of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë have no love of Curufinwë's kin." Nerdanel reached out calloused hands, worn by years of her craft. Your own was not so smooth, for years of gardening had hardened the skin. "Fate may be kinder to you. Our king wishes to provide what help he can." The attempt was well made, yet still you remained unsettled. "My fate is solely in the hands of others. If I stay then it is another exile. I banish my freedom. Perhaps I should leave and lessen others' hold on me." Nerdanel's gaze went to your belly. If one was unaware they would not know. But soon it would swell and then what would happen then? Your family would be harboring a potential heir. Arafinwë was good and wise, but the actions others you must look to. Would they see the baby as a contender? If you stayed at court then an alliance could be built and no one could accuse you of hiding.

"Do what you think is best for yourself and the baby Y/n. But do not forget, make sure you stand on your own feet."

Note: This story has been in my drafts since September and was originally meant to be a one shot. A story surrounding the lives of those who stayed in Valinor is something I have been interested in for a while now. I am unsure how long this story will be. I will also be using the Quenya pronunciation for everyone's names unless canonically one is not provided. All the sons of Feanor use their mother-name except for Curufin.

While I use Jodie Comers face in the gifs and aesthetics for this story it is not meant to be a face claim. I simply like to use a certain character/acter's face in each series.

My OC's (the unnamed wives of the sons of Feanor) are my stand ins for the wives in every fanfic going forward. This is unless I write an x-reader involving one of the three married sons. In that case I will simply write them out. But going forward in this story and others they will exist. I intend to make character profiles for them at some point.

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!

#the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion x reader #the silm #the silmarillion #silmarillion #to you who is lost #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #celegorm x aredhel #feanor x nerdanel #fingolfin x anaire #finrod x amarie #finarfin x earwen #finarfin #nerdanel #maitimo x reader #maedhros x reader

[carmisse]

Elves (and Mairon) in their less random moments

#The silmarillion #Fëanorians #house of feanor #fëanor #finarfin #fingolfin #fëanor/fingolfin #russingon #galadriel #celeborn #celeborn x galadriel #maglor #finrod felagund #maedhros #fingon #caranthir #curufin #celegorm #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #glorfinduil #legolas greenleaf #thranduil oropherion #Oropher #erenion gil galad #Gil galad x Oropher #Tuor/Maeglin

[fistfuloflightning]

So. Someone a bit ago commented on one of my fics (or here, not sure) about my penchant for odd Tolkien rarepairs. I myself forget just how many I have, so here’s the rundown and why I like them:

Maedhros/Maeglin (just. the angst. of being buried under your mistakes and finding a kindred soul to share that same burden and heal together. soulmates. who might’ve even met during the nirnaeth. and they’re definitely switches your honor)

Celegorm/Aredhel or Celegorm/Dior (or Dior’s reckless/headstrong stubbornness reminds him of Aredhel and there’s a lot of angry/bittersweet proxyfucking and guilt and ‘I don’t know who I truly love anymore’)

Maglor/Luthien (beauty for beauty’s sake. and honestly anyone but beren. luthien getting involved with the war to protect her murderbard boyfriend and actually putting a dent in morgoth’s forces. mags trying his hardest to protect her as much as the silmaril she won back for him)

Curufin/Finrod (sending your husband to his death (that he knew abt but didn’t tell you) and screwing up your sons and living the rest of your shortened life regretting soooo. many. things. and then having to deal with them after mandos. a bitter beautiful chaotic mess that can only end in tears)

Fingon/Varda (don’t ask: even I’m not sure—something something gil galad’s associated w/ stars and no one knows who his mom is and I like me some valar with greek god leanings)

Aegnor/Haleth (battle bros to lovers, bc haleth won’t take no for an answer like andreth did 😒)

Argon/Amarie (falling in love with your cousin’s ex was not the intention after being the first one killed/sent back. but she’s finally moving on from finrod and you’ve grown to care for her company more than you thought…)

Daeron/Beren (beren didn’t deserve luthien—this started as a joke but these two seriously deserve each other in all their squabbling glory)

Mablung/Nienor (they just. deserve happiness and peace. and lots of adorable peredhel kids. please)

Eowyn/Merry (same as above, but they have the benefit of having an entire shire to rebuild and different cultures to find wonder in and grow to love as much as their own)

idk I might be missing some but these are my thoughts on my main Tolkien rarepairs

#lotr #the silmarillion #maedhros #maeglin #aredhel #maglor #luthien #curufin #finrod felagund #aegnor #haleth #argon #amarie #daeron #beren #mablung #nienor #eowyn #merry brandybuck #celdior #celedhel #idk what their ship name is #maemae #maedhros x maeglin #mablung/nienor #curufinrod #maglor/luthien #magluth #aegnor x haleth

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being like Newt Scamander and showing your creatures to the elves.

(I had to do some research to get the names right, and I only managed to come with this three so no fourth one unfortunately, I hope you like it)

Requested by @a-contemplation-upon-flowers​

Warnings: None really, some wizardry and elven stuff and mystical creatures. 

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

Maglor

-He thought you were odd upon your first meeting. The bag you carried was oddly shaped, and he wasn’t sure what you would carry in there. 

-You called it a briefcase and a special kind too. Maglor was curious, but you did not elaborate further on what was inside – saying it’s a secret. 

-You were strange, the way you spoke and dressed was nothing he had ever seen, and he was curious about what was inside your briefcase, so he decided to befriend you. 

-You turned out to be a kind-hearted person despite your odd habits. He felt ashamed for thinking lowly of you. 

-You told him you had a task and wrote a book on how to live beside mysterious creatures and even care for them. 

-And that you were a sorcerer of a kind. 

-Maglor found the subject of your book peculiar, and he had seen you do magic with your wand, so he believed the latter even though it was unbelievable a human was capable of magic. 

-However, he was not ready to witness what was inside the mysterious briefcase when you finally said you trusted him enough to show him. 

-He was expecting you to show him an item of some sort, not you suddenly walking in and disappearing into the briefcase. When he hesitated, you showed your arm through and gestured for him to follow you. 

-Maglor looked in and saw stairs leading down, which was unbelievable, but when you called out to him. He cautiously went in and walked down the stairs.

-He found his way into your hut, where you prepared food of some kind and even scared him with a flying creature for shit and giggles. But when he stepped outside the next door – the shock arrived like a slap in the face when he saw the vast world of your briefcase. 

-He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around, looking at the several mysterious creatures, small and big, mysterious and beautiful. He roamed into every habitat to take a look, and you even allowed him to pet most of them. 

-It was like everything a little kid would dream of in one place. It was beautiful, and he finally understood the meaning of your book. 

-He could not help but smile and laugh when you allowed him to feed the Mooncalves, hold an Occamy, and even pet the strange Graphorns.  

-He even enjoyed watching the little Bowtruckles play around the tree. 

-It almost felt forbidden for him to be there. 

-He came up with several new songs when he was there — among your creatures. 

-He promised to help you find the creatures you lost in an accident and never said a word to anyone so your animals could be safe, and you were forever grateful for that. 

-He found your little performance odd and funny when you two were trying to capture the giant Erumpet, but — he did not like when he accidentally spilled the concoction upon himself and got the giant’s romantic attention. You had to save him on that part. 

-He will never get involved with Erumpets ever again. 

Fingon 

-He most likely met you after encountering one of your creatures. He had an unpleasant encounter and saw you chasing it with your briefcase. 

-Miraculously, you captured the beast and used magic which he thought was impossible for humans unless you were a sorcerer of a kind. 

-None of less, your meeting was accidental, and it was hard to brush him off when he became fascinated with you and wanted to know what you were hiding in your briefcase. 

-He also had some unfinished business with your Niffler as the creature had stolen something important from him, his father’s ring. 

-You agreed to help retrieve his ring if he helped you find the Niffler so you could return his father’s ring. 

-When you showed the inside of your briefcase, his reaction was like Maglor’s, full of wonder and amazement. 

-He would try to befriend most of your creatures, even the dangerous ones, so you had to watch him so he wouldn't accidentally get killed. Some of the creatures you saved were still aggressive from the hardship of the outside world. 

-He would be an eager listener when you tell all the stories about your creatures and how you rescue them. 

-He admired your resolve trying to save and find a way to teach people to live beside these creatures, so they wouldn't have to kill, and the latter wouldn't have to go to extinction. 

-You had even tamed a couple of creatures of Morgoth. Dragons and other creatures he thought were nothing but mindless beasts. 

-He adored the Bowtruckles and even allowed them to climb and play around his body. 

-When you went to look for your creatures that escaped, he was determined to help you and followed all the instructions to raise the success of each capture. 

-When you two finally found the Niffler, the capture turned out tricky as even you had some problems catching it.

-The little bugger even managed to steal one of his golden ribbons. 

-So, Fingon ends up using a little force out of frustration. He would never harm your creatures to upset you, but with your Niffler, his tolerance dropped low. You honestly didn’t blame him. 

-It was thanks to Fingon that the little troublemaker got finally caught.

-He was surprised how the little thief could fit so many valuables in its stomach when you grabbed its leg and forced the thing to empty itself. Your creature dropped enough pieces of jewelry and gold to fill out a treasure chest.

-He got his ring back, so it was all good in the end. 

Finrod 

-Human visitors were ordinary in Nargothrond. Finrod did not want anyone to feel ridiculed or alone, so he tried to make his kingdom for all types of people. 

-He thought you were just one of the commoners with a very peculiar bag. 

-He was curious, so he welcomed you and asked about it, and from that, he learned it was a briefcase. 

-He thought it was an ordinary encounter, but then he began to notice your odd absence. 

-Although he knew you had a room, you were nowhere to be found, neither among your people nor anywhere else.

-Some say you rarely came out of your room, and when you did – you would run away somewhere only Eru would know. 

-He became curious. But when some began to report you for suspicious activity. He took it upon himself to investigate because he believed there was a reasonable explanation for your behavior. 

-He did not expect to find your briefcase wide open and see stairs leading down, which should be impossible because there were no stairs under your floors. 

-He began to get suspicious, so he took a step to investigate where the stairs would lead him. 

-Finrod found his way to a hut filled with herbs and food that would not suit the mouths of ordinary people. It was strange. 

-He then found a door. He wasn’t sure what else he would find, but he decided to go for it and see what was behind it. 

-The world behind the door made his eyes widen with wonder and amazement. He found several strange yet beautiful creatures in habitats, and the noises made by the creatures sounded like songs to his ears. 

-He found you standing in rain, holding a wand that allowed you to create a parasol made out of magic, and above you flew a glorious golden bird with six wings. 

-The mighty bird let out beautiful sounds before it landed on the rocks upon your calls, allowing the rain to disappear and fill with sunlight. 

-He watched as you talked to the beast, letting it eat from your hand and affectionately petting its head. 

-It was beautiful until the bird saw him and screeched, alerting you of his presence. 

-You panicked when you saw the king of Nargothrond and tried to come up with an explanation. 

-Finrod calmed you down and assured you he was not a threat to you or your creatures, but he did demand an explanation of your visit and the meaning of your briefcase. 

-You told him everything. He listened and didn’t mind helping you feed some of the creatures while you told him why you came to Nargothrond. 

-He found joy wandering your mystical world. He was frightened by the giant two-headed snake, and he wasn’t much fond of the Niffler, who tried to steal the jewelry on him, even mistaking his hair for gold.

- He was awed by the giant two-winged horses, the Abraxans. They were simply humongous, and he did not know flying horses were possible. You were surprised when they allowed him to pet them because they were usually very proud creatures. 

-You were trying to find a couple of creatures that wandered into his kingdom. They were harmless, but people were not so much if they found them. Most people do not see your creatures in the brightest light. 

-Finrod offered to help since there had been strange happenings lately and thought maybe they were connected with your lost creatures. 

-The first thing you found was the demiguise.  

-It was surprisingly an easy capture because Finrod decided to befriend it, and it worked. He strolled back to you with the white-haired creature in his arms and asked what was next on the list. 

-The next thing was one of the occamy that inhabited one of the abandoned rooms. 

-Finrod was startled when he learned the beautiful blue-winged serpents could grow their size to fit the space of the current room because the occamy was massive. 

-The capture was tricky because of the occamy’s size and defensive nature. Finrod then concluded a plan when you told him occamies fall effortlessly asleep with songs. 

-So – he sang with his beautiful voice, and the occamy fell asleep, shrinking into the size of his hands. 

-It was a strange capture, but it worked, so you didn’t complain – but it was hard to convince Finrod to let you take the occamy because he didn’t want to disturb its sleep. 

-You were grateful for his help and thanked him for keeping the creatures safe from people. 

-Finrod was happy, but he wanted to try and befriend the rest of your creatures and pet them – so you had to stay in Nargothrond for a little longer.

#maglor x reader #fingon x reader #finrod #finrod x reader #silmarillion x reader #tolkien #silm fic #maglor headcanon #fingon headcanon #finrod headcanon #wizard/witch reader #middle earth x reader #middle earth #middle earth headcanons #silmarillion #maglor #fingon

[glorf1ndel]

The case for each ship:

Finarfin/ Eönwë: My GUYS. They make a great team during the War of Wrath. They're both incredible at staying away from drama, but when the fate of the world is at stake? Finarfin and Eönwë both show up, like superheroes – and they grow to rely on each other.

Turgon/ Finrod: Do you like the opposites attract trope? How about grumpy/ sunshine? What about "I've loved you all along, since before the darkening of the Two Trees, and now the light in my eyes shines only for you?" Do I have a ship for you.

Lúthien/ Thuringwethil: Listen. They're both slightly eldritch and not afraid to throw down. A match made in Valinor? Why NOT. Plus, Lúthien canonically uses Thuringwethil's cloak to sneak into Angband. What's that cloak made of? Girlfriend material.

Maglor/ Elemmírë: We don't know much about Maglor's spouse; why not assume they also shared a love for the arts? Elemmírë composed the poem lamenting the death of the Two Trees. Together, they could make beautiful music. *cue Careless Whisper*

Nienna/ Nerdanel: They are two women intimately acquainted with grief, but also with the beauty of life. In particular, Nienna knows that there is a fine line between sadness and joy. Perhaps she could help Nerdanel embrace both.

#silm #silmarillion #tolkien #Finarfin #Eonwe #Finarfin x Eonwe #Turgon #Finrod #Turgon x Finrod #Luthien #Thuringwethil #Luthien x Thuringwethil #Maglor #Elemmire #Maglor x Elemmire #Nienna #Nerdanel #Nienna x Nerdanel

[last-capy-hupping]

So, this is my first year participating in TRSB, and it’s been an amazing experience working with my artist Torpi, who inspired me to go outside of my comfort zones and explore some rare pairings, including a main pair so rare that I had to make a new tag for them.

Her lovely art is featured in the first chapter of this fic:

You’ll be able to read the accompanying fic (all 22k+) in under twelve hours following the link below.

Summary to tempt you all:

During the Year of the Trees 1359, Aikanáro, third son of Arafinwë, third son of Finwë, High King of the Ñoldor, and Ëarwen, daughter of Olwë, High King of the Teleri in Aman, prepares to welcome his father’s half brother, Fëanáro, his pregnant wife who is craving sea air and seafood, and their four sons. His only goal is to prevent his eldest brother Ingoldo from embarrassing himself trying to impress their eldest Fëanárion cousin. He soon find that Nelyafinwë is not the Fëanárion about whom he should worry most.

Meanwhile, Tyelkormo is simply excited to explore new territory, learn about new wildlife, and find fresh ways to hunt. Alas for him, he almost immediately starts a minor family feud on his first night in Alqualondë. And that’s just the start of his problems.

For TRSB Slide #5.

#silmarillion #trsb2023 #trsb23 #celegorm #aegnor #tyelkormo #Aikanáro #finrod #maedhros #angrod #fingon #turgon #maglor #caranthir #alqualondë #wave dancers #pearl divers #hunters #oh my! #celegorm x aegnor #maedhros x finrod #with a side of queerplatonic Russingon

[polutrope]

12, 13, 17 please!

Thanks for the ask @swanmaids!

Who are your favorite characters/pairings to write smut for?

You probably think I'm gonna say Daeron/Maglor but here's the honest truth: Finrod/Maglor and Daeron/Luthien as friends with benefits are actually hotter to me. I already wrote almost 7k of Daeron/Luthien/Maglor, I suppose I'll have to write the foursome one of these days... if I can handle the heat.

What’s the most surprising smut pairing you’ve written?

Becoming possessed by a silmkinkmeme prompt and writing (light, uncomplicated, Years of the Trees) Russingon/Maglor was a big surprise.

Who are your favorite canon couples to write smut for?

Only written each of them once, but Feanor/Nerdanel and Earendil/Elwing. I'm a big fan of canon relationships smut though. Shout out to you and @imakemywings and @i-am-a-lonely-visitor for writing some smoking hot stuff for those married elves!

#asks #smut asks #finrod x maglor #daeron x luthien #fingon x maedhros x maglor #swanmaids

[tengwar]

Finrod being Finrod + Maglor

#.art #the silmarillion #silmarillion #silm art #finrod #finrod felagund #maglor #finrod x maglor #maglor x finrod #makarato #i think thays the name

[maglorslostsilmaril]

wohoooo

#tolkien #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #fingolfin #finrod #glorfindel #fingon #maglor #celegorm #curufin #amrod #amras #russingon #finrod x maglor #maglor x finrod #5 times they fought and 1 time they didn’t #5 + 1 things #5 + 1 fic #my writing #fanfiction

[doodle-pops]

Modern AU: Sugar Daddy | My Sugar Daddy Loves Me

Headcanon: Maglor, Finrod, Ecthelion, Thingol, Elrond

Request: Hi Mina I hope you doing well could you please write a part 2 of your sugar daddy au? With Ecthelion, Maglor, Finrod, Elrond and Maeglin - Anon

A/N: Not gonna lie, I had a hard time envisioning Finrod as a sugar daddy since I link those who are Daddy/DILF material as a sugar daddy. He seemed so aloof as a sugar daddy and more like Friends with Benefits lol.

Warnings: a female-focused reader, smut, breeding/creampies

➽ Part 1 | Part 2

➽ Modern AU Series

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Maglor

➽ He’s a world-renowned pop star who is beloved by everyone, and you are his lovely darling he met during a backstage meet and greet when he slipped his number into your back pocket and whispered, ‘Call me.’

➽ Of course you called him because that’s how you receive gifts on your doorstep after every performance he has, world tours, or when his albums go platinum. You are the mysterious lover that his fans talk about because of paparazzi.

➽ For the most of your dynamic shared with him, you are kept a secret because, to him, it makes everything more thrilling. All those posts of him on vacation or tours with snips of your hands, legs or back, or the albums being written about you, make everything invigorating.

➽ On the days when he does return from touring, you are showered in affection abundantly. Necklaces and anklets with your name or his name, dozens of roses, lingerie, the latest fashion wear, a lump sum of money floating into your account and some days between the sheets.

➽ Plus, that pretty black credit card in your back pocket feels incredibly heavy with all the financial opportunities it’s allowing you to make. It doesn’t bother him with you swipe his card to make your purchases because he has lots of trust in you (please don’t rob him).

➽ The dynamic between you both differs from the others who would reward you for excelling at your job or studies. With Maglor, he’ll reward you for being silent as he takes you in the recording booth during breaks, support him during his concerts, and when he wins awards.

➽ Apart from dropping all the materialistic gifts on you, Maglor takes him time to worship you from head to toe. You are, after all, the inspiration behind his best-selling albums, and he has inserted your moans as background vocals on some of his songs.

➽ A passion lover you got as a sugar daddy with an oral fixation (best his mouth). He has to show you how talented those lips are; singing isn’t all that he can do with his tongue. Plus, he’s also a guitarist, so let the realisation sink in with those fingers.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Finrod

➽ Right off the bat, his type of sugar daddy isn’t for pleasure purposes and it’s the last reason why he was willing to care for you. He just wants someone to spoil and spend lots of time with because he’s rich and lonely in his mansion.

➽ Being spoilt is something you never have to question because he’s eager to be your sugar daddy even though he doesn’t consider himself as one. He’ll just tell you that he’s a good friend helping another friend out while handing you his unlimited credit card and a bunch of gifts.

➽ The adventurous type to call you up in the middle of the night and TELL you that he already booked you all a flight a trip to a tropical island for two weeks filled with various fun activities. The idea that you have classes or work tomorrow doesn’t sink in until you’re reminding him.

➽ It’s a frequent occurrence with him visiting/calling at early hours to check out new places in the city or for you to come over because his giant house is lonely. At some point, you are living in with him and all the maids have become familiar with you.

➽ If you’re a college student, you are funded, and yes, he does have an interest in your academics. However, he’s a lot more understanding if you fail a course because he’s the reason (making you miss classes with those trips); he might suggest dropping out and letting him permanently care for you because he can also get you a decent job without a degree.

➽ As I mentioned, pleasure isn’t something Finrod is interested in during the agreement. That’s something you would have to initiate one night as you’re relaxing in bed or returning from dinner. Take the lead and make him rethink his agreement to incorporate it often and scrap the ‘friends’ talk.

➽ He isn’t someone who becomes stressed, so if anything, you’re the one who’s getting the rough sex when you’re stressed. He is happy to help because if you’re keeping him company, he has to return the favour with an open mind. And trust me when I say, he’s good at what he does but acts casual as if he didn’t strip away your ability to walk.

➽ At least your time being his sugar baby will be fun and filled with excitement, something that outshines the finances and pleasure he blesses you with. His desire for companionship helps to make the dynamic between you two worthwhile.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Ecthelion

➽ Responsible for marketing some of the most valuable gemstones around the world; mostly invested in the diamond stock market. The first time you met him and stepped into his house, you noticed how much he was obsessed with the gemstone. You don’t complain because it’s what he gifts you whenever you perform well for him.

➽ He covers all your tuition expenses and living commodities and gives you one of his unlimited credit cards to shop for your heart's desires. In return, you must bring home good grades (he’ll tell you what’s good) and keep up your good reputation. He doesn’t want you to ever tarnish your reputation.

➽ Ecthelion is wealthy and educated, so he doesn’t mind getting involved and invested in your field of work or degree program. Depending on what it is, he’ll extend his knowledge, but if he doesn’t know, he’ll make attempts to get you good connections to boost your career.

➽ So long as you maintain your good grades and reputation, you’re in it for life. He’s taking you vacations to tropical islands, opera shows, shopping sprees, buying you the most expensive jewellery sets and clothes. You will be rocking the best designer clothes, Ecthelion isn’t standing for you wearing simple clothes.

➽ Of course, when you perform excellently for him, he will return the favour with more than just trips and money. He established in the beginning that he was seeking companionship during your deal, and as much as he wanted to keep things professional, something about the red lipstick you adore wearing sucked him in.

➽ Perhaps allowing you to give him a blowjob under the table in his office during a quick visit and leaving lipstick smeared all over his cock made him change his mind about keeping things professional. He was pleased when you agreed to make the relationship more intimate than hugs and kisses.

➽ He wastes no time whenever he’s stressed to relieve himself through you (with your consent). You’re his little stress reliever, and in return, Ecthelion doesn’t mind letting you use him to beat your stress. Sex is rough and steamy between you both. You are getting bent over countertops, work desk, pressed against the wall, he’s hungry beneath his professional demeanour.

➽ While he is a formal and sophisticated gentleman, and he would not touch you inappropriately in public, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t purchase you vibrator panties and plugs. You’re sitting beside him during a conference meeting and he’s causally playing with the speed on his phone, making you cum.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Thingol

➽ This sugar daddy is drifting over to the DILF side of things and do not be fooled by his silver hair, he isn’t old, he’s simply trendy and into the latest fashion styles. Giovani, Armani, Dior, Marco Polo, Ralph Lauren and the list goes on. Thingol is an old-money type of sugar daddy, and he adores showing off his wealth to you.

➽ To be honest, Thingol really want to be your sugar daddy because he saw you and liked you. At the time, you were a broke college student or young worker struggling in the business world who used the opportunity he was providing to build your career and status.

➽ Thingol doesn’t care about all that (at first), but he does ensure all your needs and desires are met. Tuitions paid, loans cleared, no negative credit score or empty bank account. You’re the rich student on campus or your job that everyone is jealous of because he makes sure the world knows you’re spoilt by rolling up in some custom Rolls Royce or Bently.

➽ Your unlimited credit cards weigh a ton in your pocket, but who cares because you’re rich and being pampered as you deserve? Of course, nothing in life comes for free and without payment. Thingol might carry some age because he has a fully grown child, but he isn’t old.

➽ He makes it clear that he would enjoy being intimate and seeking companionship in return for the wealth spent on you. Do you decline, of course not (you can’t, or you’ll end up poor again).

➽ Thingol is the definition of old is the new young. This man has the stamina to last for a lifetime and makes sure you’re always satisfied. He can be stingy and demand that you give him more attention (he’s a receiver more than a giver). You’ll have to catch him in the right mood for him to be on the giving end.

➽ But still, you can’t complain because you’re getting good dic—. Anyway speaking of spoiling you, he adores whenever you’re completely decked out in lingerie for him, i.e. just all the jewellery he bought for you and nothing else.

➽ He does have a slight breeding kink, but it isn’t intending to want children, so you have nothing to worry about. Thingol just enjoys the sight of prettying his sugar baby.

➽ Know that he’ll gift you some necklace or ring that informs everyone that you’re his and no one else’s. If you ask him if it means he’s proposing, he’ll reply with something along the lines of, “You’re already mine princess, wedding ring or not.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ. Elrond

➽ DILF number three and it makes perfect sense since he’s a descendant of many DILFs (Fingolfin, Turgon, Thingol). But Elrond doesn’t mind being someone’s sugar daddy, though his intentions are more for genuine purposes. If you want more, you’re gonna have to do all the work to show him that it’s more than paying your tuition and giving you money.

➽ Nevertheless, he covers all your expenses and demands that you perform excellently in your field of study or job. Elrond would even go out of his way to personally teach you (and no, I don’t mean bending you over the desk type of teaching) to ensure success is at your fingertips.

➽ This man is the most passionate and dedicated sugar daddy who cares about your well-being to a great extent. He’s well-rounded, so he’s fulfilling all your needs and wants, health, education, finances, basic commodities and living expenses. Please don’t disappoint him by failing your classes, he’s pulling all his money into the best tutors.

➽ In return for your devotion and passion for excellence, you are getting spoiled but not like the others. Elrond doesn’t mind giving you money or taking you on shopping sprees or trips around the world, he simply doesn’t want you dependent dependent on him to always provide since he’s building you up to become your own boss and financially secure.

➽ He’ll spoil, but not to that extent. Such a philosophical man, teaching all about life and how to be independent and headstrong.

➽ Now, as I’ve previously mentioned, if you want him to take you to bed, impressions are everything. Elrond’s the type to get impressed by your sense of elegance, sophistication and linguistics. Show him how skilled your tongue is, and he’ll be wanting more. No doubt he’s rewriting the contract in his mind.

➽ He has kids and knows how to ramp in between the sheets. In his state, he probably isn’t interested in more given his desire for companionship, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be giving out creampies. The sight of it is his catalyst for wanting to give you more and keep you up all night.

➽ He’s a gentleman in the streets and will incapacitate you in the sheets. Tricks up his sleeves despite having an old fashion appeal about him. Give him a dance dressed in some pretty lingerie—nothing overly fancy, he likes elegance and simplicity—while he sips on whisky or brandy in a button-down shirt and his tie lazily discarded around his neck.

➽ Treat him well because running multiple companies is tiring, so relieve his stress while he relieves yours and you’ll be the happiest sugar baby ever.

Masterlist

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#silm smut #sugar daddy!au #maglor x reader #finrod x reader #ecthelion x reader #thingol x reader #elrond x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion headcanons #silmarillion smut #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth headcanons #middle earth smut #lord of the rings headcanons #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings smut #lotr smut #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #maglor smut #finrod smut #ecthelion smut #thingol smut #elrond smut #x reader insert #x reader smut #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Maedhros (whispering): Fingon,please. We have to be discreet, no one knows we're courting

Caranthir (walking by): Yes we do

#Literally everyone knows #They are not at all discreet #Maglor and Finrod have both written numerous songs about them #Feanor and Fingolfin are the only ones who don’t know #There’s a betting pool for when they’ll figure out everyone knows #Aredhel runs it #silmarillion #incorrect quotes #russingon #maedhros x fingon #maedhros #fingon #caranthir