#fourth age

[mamwieleimion]

Tolkien writing idea:

Elrond, being male Luthien come again with all the beauty and grace and that Eldrich power, meeting Fëanorians.

Like it's Fourth Age, the Fëanorians have been released from Mandos and he just came from Middle Earth with Maglor. And Elrond in all his Male Luthien glory meets Fëanorians.

Maedhros would not notice, not having meet Luthien and having known Elrond as a little kid running under everyones feet. Maglor same, he maybe would be a little surprised at first after adoption (kidnapping) that both twins are strong in Song. But otherwise? Nothing spectacular.

Till in Fourth Age in Valinor Elrond meets Celegrom and Curufin, who both meet Luthien (and I firmly believe that Celebrimbor didn't say anything about the uncanny resemblance just to mess with people and not let Elrond know), and now see her male twin calling their two older brothers his fathers.

#maglor #tolkien #elrond peredhel #elrond #feanor #silmarillion #lotr #maedhros #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #Meeting Fëanorians #feanorians #Elrond is Male Luthien #luthien #come again as her great-grandson #fourth age #valinor

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Bilbo was taking surprisingly well to Valinor. Of course he’d been expecting it to be an adjustment, elves were very different creatures to hobbits after all, but he was certainly in fine comfort here. He’d always got the impression that elves had very- well for want of a better word elven ideas about what constituted a home, it was not his place to criticise but sleeping in trees seemed to lack a sense of cosiness to be perfectly honest, but Elrond seemed to have gone to a heartwarming effort to make his surroundings more familiar.

He and Frodo had been given spacious yet hobbit proportioned chambers in the building (practically a castle really) his wife had made for their household, a display of generosity that he should have come to expect yet still took him off guard. The rooms were filled with lush wall hangings, rugs and throw blankets, each pieces of art, and there were ever so many places one could sit and work away at whatever took their fancy or simply gaze out at the stars or waves crashing against the rocks.

Despite the seeming peace and tranquillity of his surroundings he was not oblivious to the fact that there was tension in the halls. He was proven right when Elrond came in one day after going down to the city, somewhere the hobbits had still not quite worked up the nerve to go themselves as they knew they would stick out like sore thumbs and were not fully prepared to be bombarded with questions and stares.

The Lady Galadriel’s brother Finrod had become familiar company however, when he was not too busy teasing his sister that is, and seemed genuinely eager and impressed with all they had to say. He even seemed enthusiastic about Bilbo’s attempts at poetry, though when he heard a reinterpretation of an ancient romance ballad about the flame haired princess being freed from her tower by a valiant elven prince he had to cover his mouth politely before bursting into a fit of laughter when he met Elrond’s eyes. He apologised profusely afterwards, though Bilbo was still trying to discover what had been so funny.

On this day however Finrod was not in attendance, it was just some of Elrond’s household, his wife and Bilbo in the corner writing a new poem about Beren and Luthien (a little overdone perhaps but still an incredible story). Elrond hung his cloak on the stand by the door and adjusted some invisible flaw in his braid work before picking up a book and silencing all the numerous proceedings in the bustling communal area with one casually uttered sentence from the window seat.

‘I decided to invite my parents over for dinner.’

Glorfindel dropped the plant pot he was holding with a crash, the only noise in the stifling silence. Everyone seemed to take that as their queue to leave whatever they were doing and walk calmly, run like their lives depended on it for the doors, some even for the windows. All except Bilbo that is, he wanted to hear what it was that made all these dignified and battle hardened immortal beings scatter like young hobbits pillaging Farmer Maggot’s grounds.

Glorfindel spoke and his voice was definitely trembling, goodness what could this be about? ‘Which- which parents would these be Lord Elrond?’

Elrond didn’t look up as if he hadn’t noticed the panic he’d unleashed and twirled his bookmark about his fingers while replying absentmindedly. ‘Hmmm? Oh, well I really didn’t want to start off on a note of picking some over the others after so many millennia apart so I thought it best to meet them together, clear the air and all that rather than leave things fester. I’m quite done with letting things go unspoken you know.’

‘You what.’ The Balrog Slayer trembled and shook, he who had laughed in the face of the Nazgûl.

‘What in all the lands of Arda could have possessed you to- Elrond! Are you trying to get us all killed?!’

‘Oh, peace Glorfindel, my family aren’t going to kill each other or you.’

‘Elrond your families killing each other is how you got one of them! Which is still severely fucked up by the way and so ridiculously unhealthy I don’t even know what to do with it.’

Elrond huffed at Glorfindel’s hysterics, ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’s just dinner. They’re hardly going to sour their first meeting with me since before the destruction of Beleriand just to be petty.’

Bilbo privately thought that there was very little certain family members wouldn’t do to be petty, especially where ill advised family dinners were concerned. Tonight should be entertaining at least. He wondered if the elves, with the wisdom of many ages would be able to restrain themselves.

Glorfindel sighed and leaned forward onto his hand muttering something that, despite Bilbo’s incomplete fluency in the language, sounded suspiciously like swearing. ‘Well I suppose there’s nothing we can do now except send as many to safety as we can spare and pray to every Valar we can think of.’

‘And hide the breakables,’ Elrond chimes in lightly seemingly unperturbed by the very dangerous individual who was looking gradually more and more murderous. ‘Naneth used to throw things at the wall after receiving letters from Atya. Best hide any weaponry as well. Maybe serve something that doesn’t require sharp cutlery?’

Glorfindel inhaled slowly several times while staring down his significantly younger lord. ‘I hope you know Elrond, that the only reason I am not throttling you right now is that I do not want to upset the Lady Idril by causing injury to her only grandchild. She terrifies me, perhaps more than you and your parents but it is a fine fucking line.’

As Glorfindel headed out to try and pull the house into some semblance of readiness for the seeming impending disaster Elrond lifted his gaze from his novel and stared out at the rolling ocean before him. While only moments ago he had seemed light and teasing, as if he were secretly aware of and enjoying the turmoil he’d caused, something Bilbo had become more and more accustomed to seeing from him since their arrival on these shores, now he appeared every inch of his years, an ages long loss lined in those bright eyes and a trace of hesitance that was even more alarming.

 ‘Are you quite alright lad?’ Elrond’s mouth moved into familiar expression of amusement at being referred to as such by one so many times his younger and that was something at least though his eyes didn’t change.

 ‘Everything’s alright, it’s only just- well it’s been so long Bilbo. I know coming from me that may sound unusual to you, but I’m talking about things that happened in the First Age of the world, in Beleriand for goodness sake, that entire continent hasn’t existed for over seven millennia. So it’s just hard- I’ve spent so long imagining this day and I truly have no idea how it will go. It’s been so long since I’ve had parents and now- I might finally get that connection again but what if it fails? They haven’t seen me since I was a child, some of them anyway, what if they don’t like the person I am now?’

 ‘Any parent would be proud of having someone like you for a child, Elrond. I’m sure it will go splendidly, why they must have missed you dreadfully, I can’t imagine being separate from Frodo for so long.’ He was touched deeply by this elven lord opening up to him about such worries and resolved to try his best to make tonight go without a hitch. Glorfindel must have surely be overreacting after all, it couldn’t be that hard, could it, to prevent a few people (he was admittedly still unclear on the circumstances that led to Elrond’s parents being referred to as seemingly distinct groups) coming to blows at a reunion with their son?

#silmarillion #tolkien #elrond peredhel #glorfindel #bilbo baggins #valinor #fourth age #kidnap fam #elwing #earendil

[velvet4510]

The thing about Éowyn giving up being a shieldmaiden is that those who complain about it are entirely missing the point.

What she truly wants is not to specifically fight and kill and kick ass in battle. All those things are representations of her actual desire: to be recognized.

She is constantly being cast aside and forced into the corner and left behind, and she wants to actually leave an impactful mark, a legacy, which the society of Rohan will not permit her to create. She directly tells Aragorn that she wants to do great deeds, and she is most afraid of losing her chance to do anything meaningful with massive ripple effects. She has the very human and very relatable need to be seen and noticed and remembered.

She sees all these warriors achieving glory and becoming the subjects of songs on the battlefield, so she thinks that’s her only way. And she fears that once the war is over, there will be no other way, that it will all go back to the way it was for her.

Then by the end, she learns that’s not true. She can do great deeds and achieve recognition post-war, and she does.

She becomes the Princess of Ithilien, a land decimated by war which means she and Faramir essentially get to start from scratch in rebuilding the land and the society. As Faramir’s equal partner, it is up to her, as much as it is up to him, to make the land beautiful again, to decide how it should be run, to mentor the younger generation to take proper care of it all. She can introduce horses to the land and teach people to ride. She can teach self-defense because everyone needs to know that kind of stuff. She can do so many things and make so many major decisions for the benefit of so many people who look up to her and need her.

And above all, Éowyn can shape Ithilien to be what Rohan never was to her: a place where all women are seen and heard and respected.

And the best part is, she gets all the freedom and makes all the impact that she has always dreamed of, and yet she doesn’t have to deal with any of her responsibilities alone. While before she had no support in being Théoden’s nurse, and dealt with it all by herself, now she is surrounded by love and encouragement. She’s got Faramir there to always hold her hand. She’s got supportive friends in Aragorn, Arwen, and Merry.

Éowyn giving up being a shieldmaiden and warrior is not the equivalent of abandoning her dream; it is the equivalent of achieving her dream.

#eowyn #eowyn of rohan #eowyn x faramir #lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #tolkien legendarium #third age #fourth age #ithilien #lotr eowyn #farawyn #rohan #faramir #theoden #aragorn #arwen #merry brandybuck

[istaricelebelasse]

Celegorm teaching Maeglin how to speak to moles

#celegorm #maeglin #silmarillion #fourth age

[camille-lachenille]

Ok, idk where I’m going with this but fourth age Valinor fic where everyone get released from Mandos.

Aredhel and Celegorm are besties again and Curufin basically adopted Maeglin the second he stumbled out of the Halls. Celebrimbor loves spending craft days in the forge with his new ‘baby brother’.

One day, Aredhel receive a note from one of Námo’s maiar that Eöl is soon to be reembodied soon and she is expected, as his wife, to wait for him out of the halls. She, understandably, has a huge meltdown, and her brothers are ready to march on Mandos and send Eöl right back into the halls the moment he’s out.

But Aredhel doesn’t want Turgon to be judged for kinslaying or something like that. So she decides to elope. The status of Míriel and Finwë is a very clear precedent that, if one remarried, the deceased spouse must remain in Mandos forever. So, she and Celegorm vanish for a few days for a ‘hunting trip’ and return married. The Valar are tearing their hair at this new situation, fearing Maeglin will turn into a Fëanor 2.0.

I don’t know how it would end but Eöl is stuck in the halls, Turgon’s very angry to learn Celegorm’s his new brother in law (he does concede he’s still better than Eöl) and Aredhel is very smug to have tricked the Valar the way she did, and she also gives a giant middle finger to Námo.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fourth age #aredhel #celegorm #maeglin #eöl #námo #headcanon #fic ideas #my headcanons

[annab99awritersdream]

The Herald of Manwë & the Lady of Ithilien

Art by @drawulan 💕

Please head over to AO3 and check out my LOTR/Silmarillion fic The Lady of Ithilien by @annab99awritersdream (me, myself & I). Feedback is much appreciated. Thank you! 😊

#my fic #the silmarillion #silmarillion fic #fic writing #ao3 fanfic #ao3feed #eonwe #my ocs #elenwe #original character #silmarillion #eagles #theladyofithilien #fourth age #middle earth #valinor #tolkien #tolkien fic #hope you like it #my oc art #tolkien art #thank you thank you thank you #it's so beautiful

[aragornsrockcollection]

So Luthien’s genes are STRONG right? Like basically everyone down to Arwen in her line is described as looking just like her.

When he arrives in Valinor I mostly see Elrond depicted as making the first move in reaching out to Elwing, which is smart because Elwing doesn’t know how she’ll be received after all those years, so giving him control of the situation is respectful.

But also she is a mother who hasn’t seen her child since he was six, (six thousand years ago), and she must be desperate to see him, the smartest approach might not be relevant to her emotional state.

So Elrond might be visited immediately upon arrival by a woman who looks quite a bit like Luthien.

And he’s never met Luthien. So really what he sees is someone who looks

JUST LIKE ARWEN.

Imagine the shock. The tears. Both of them crying for the children they lost to mortality. To the relationships they lost to war and terrible circumstances. The chaos, the drama. Bonding as grieving parents before bonding as mother and son.

I just think about this a lot.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #jirt #lotr #silmarillion #silm #jrr tolkien #elrond #Elwing #Arwen #Luthien #lord of the rings #fourth age #Ok I’m not sure what’s juicier the idea that Elwing could visit Numenor or the idea that she was forbidden #I do think Earendil is not free to move about Valinor #so he isn’t necessarily available the second Elrond arrives #shore leave is limited when you work as a star #which I also think is cruel but it’s the weird Jesus sacrificial nature of Earendil #his job isn’t awful but it is unrelenting #that’s why Elwing flies out to meet him it’s the most time they get together

[liminal-zone]

Lizzenfic: Beware how you give your heart | Galadriel/Sauron | a fourth age haunting | rated M | updated each day for Hellbrand & Ghouladriel 2023 @hellghoulweek

1. Leaves 🍁

#hellghoul week #Lizzen fic #haladriel #fourth age

[niamhcinnoir]

Chapter 3 of A Starling in Rohan is out!! Thanks for all the support so far <3 do ask if you want to be tagged in further chapter updates!

@konartiste hope you enjoy!

"I shall not be entirely happy today, brother, unless you are. I want everyone to feel as I do! Now come, share your worries."

She sank down into the deep velvet cushions in the window alcove, and patted the nearest chair.

Éomer sighed, and relented, knowing she would not give up until he told her what was on his mind. "A messenger arrived yesterday from one of the marshals. Farms across the Eastfold have reported a disease amongst the potato seedlings that renders them completely useless. Éowyn, unless I am provided with a miracle, Rohan will suffer heavier loss of life this coming winter than in the War of the Ring - I am certain of it."

Éowyn went to bite thoughtfully on her thumbnail, caught herself in time, and smoothed over the folds of her dress instead. "A solution will be found, Éomer. I am sure of it."

Éomer was less sure, but he didn't say this aloud. Already he had cast a shadow over the happiest day of his sister's life, and he didn't intend to add to it. "Perhaps, but not today. Today I don't mean to be King of Rohan - only your brother."

#jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #tolkien #arwen #fourth age #middle earth #aragorn #lotr #eowyn #faramir x eowyn #eomer x lothiriel #eomer #lothiriel

[kanafinwe-makalaure]

There is a soul stuck in Mandos, one who never talks to anyone, and is never approached. He sits in a corner with his back turned and his arms around his knees and his dark hair obscuring his face like seaweed heavy with water. He feels like a mistake, like someone who should not be, who was born from darkness into darkness, a corrupted soul ripped forcibly from the vacuum of non-existence. There was never love or belonging in his life no matter how far he went to try and make his claim. Nothing in the world has ever been for him, because things cannot belong to someone who is naught.

Celegorm has been deemed ready to be re-embodied, long, long after his youngest two brothers, but before he leaves Mandos, he goes up to that small, miserable creature in the corner and sits down next to him.

“Your mother must miss you terribly,” Celegorm says. “You’ve been here for so long.”

He receives no reply, and nudges the boy's shoulder. “Lómion,” he says gently. “Come with me.”

Maeglin turns his head, his dark eyes perpetually moist and red-rimmed as they are, and mumbles, “You saw the tapestries; you know what I have done. I will not claim a place out there and steal it from another.”

“You know what I have done,” Celegorm says with twinkling, smiling eyes. “Perhaps you need someone like me to lead you out of this place, no? And to accompany you home? For everything that you have done, I have done ten things that are worse.”

Maeglin buries his face in between his thin, bony knees. “Not everything. You have abandoned your mother and kept her waiting, but I, I have damned mine to her fate. Had it not been for me, she might have left my father, and had it not been for me - well. I stood where she was supposed to stand, and vice versa.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Celegorm firmly. “You are not to blame for the actions of your father, even if you are to blame for your own. What he did, none of it was your fault.”

Lómion sobs against the fabric of his trousers; Celegorm places a hand on his back, square, large and heavy. Its size makes the younger elf look like a child. He sits with him for a while, allows him to weep. Then, he squeezes gently.

“Come, boy,” he says, fatherly words, but his voice lacks all the cold authority of Ëol’s; it is warm and gentle like a campfire in a cold night, and it does not beat Lómion down, instead it picks him up and lifts him and makes him feel as though he could do anything. Celegorm’s grip is gentle enough not to hurt, but firm enough to assure Lómion he will not let him fall.

Lómion nods and wipes his tears with the back of his hand, and he allows Celegorm to help him to his feet.

Together, they step out of the Halls of Mandos and begin their way home, to meet Aredhel.

#silm #my writing #fourth age #reembodiment #celegorm #maeglin #lomion #tyelkormo #dad celegorm #maeglin acquires a father figure that is less bad than his actual father #halls of mandos #silm fic #the silmarillion

[jmoonjones]

Enjoying the sunset in Emyn Arnen ❤️

#farawyn #eowyn #faramir #eowyn and faramir #eowyn x faramir #faramir x eowyn #eowyn my beloved #eowyn of rohan #ithilien #emyn Arnen #LOTR #fourth age #lord of the rings #LOTR art #lotr fanart

[cilil]

⊱ Author's Note: To commemorate the destruction of the One Ring on March 25th TA 3019, I dug up and finished an old WIP from last year. Huge thanks to @sirsamuel for providing the idea that inspired me to write this.

... 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎

"I want you to return this ring to the one Melkor exchanged it with."  Olórin glanced at the ring, hesitant to take it.  "I will do my best. Though I will have to ask... who is it that I am looking for?" "Do you remember a Maia named Mairon?"

⊱ Pairing: Angbang | Melkor/Mairon (past)

⊱ Characters: Olórin | Gandalf, Irmo | Lórien, Nienna, Mairon | Sauron, Melkor | Morgoth (mentioned), Aulë (mentioned), Manwë (mentioned), Eönwë (mentioned)

⊱ Synopsis: After Melkor was banished from Eä, Nienna asked Olórin to return his ring to Mairon. Many years later, Olórin remembers how another ring became Mairon's undoing and ponders the meaning of it.

⊱ Featuring: Olórin's POV, memories, married Angbang, tragic romance, angst & feels, hurt & comfort, a bit of philosophy and flower symbolism

⊱ Warnings: Mentions of death, background character death, grief/mourning

⊱ Long oneshot (~4k)

Also available on AO3

The gardens were quiet save for the distant chirping of crickets and gentle tinkling of wind chimes. Moths and fireflies were fluttering and buzzing around Lórellin as if they were watching over the two Ainur who lingered by the lake in silence. 

Olórin was sitting at its edge, staring at the water in deep thought, and next to him was Irmo, his form slightly hunched over and his head lowered. He had fallen asleep a while ago, as he was prone to do when he stayed in one place for too long, and the Maia patiently waited for his lord to awaken again so they could continue their conversation. 

He hadn't seen the beauty of Lórien in almost an entire age, Olórin thought as he beheld his surroundings, nor had he gotten much rest during his mission in Middle-earth. Upon his return to Valinor, he had been welcomed with warmth, praise and admiration from his fellow Ainur and had done his best to care for his mortal friends in particular, making sure they were comfortable and received the healing they needed. It was only now that he finally found some peace and quiet in the gardens he had missed so dearly and reminisced about everything that had happened. 

A movement next to him caught his attention and he turned his head to see Irmo straightening his back with a big yawn, sleep clouding his purple eyes until they finally focused on the Maia facing him. 

"My apologies, Olórin, I didn't mean to fall asleep in the middle of our conversation. Did I miss something?" 

Olórin couldn't help smiling a little. He had missed Irmo's company during his stay in Middle-earth, though at least the Vala had occasionally sent his moths to check on him and assist him. 

"Don't worry, my lord. I haven't said anything in a while." 

Irmo seemed relieved and gracefully stretched his limbs, causing a bit of colourful, glittery dream dust to fall from his hair and robes. It twinkled on the ground like a galaxy of miniature stars before it vanished from existence as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Very well. Will you tell me now what is on your mind? Or would you prefer to sit here in silence?" he asked. 

Olórin was taken aback by the question. "I... I am not sure what you speak of." 

"It seems to me that some grief and uncertainty is lingering upon your fëa."

Irmo lifted his hand and reached between his locks, their colour currently a soft pale rose and cream. A couple of flowers were growing on his head, much to the delight of his little moth friends, and his fingers kept searching until he finally plucked a white chrysanthemum out of his hair and presented it to his Maiarin companion. 

Memories flashed in front of Olórin's inner eye as beheld its dainty petals, but it was one in particular that made its way to his consciousness, one that he had often pondered for the last few millennia. 

"There is something," he began, brows furrowing slightly as he focused on piecing the whole story back together in his mind; some of his memories as a Maia were still fuzzy after being hidden for so long. 

"I... I don't know how I should feel about it, my lord."

"Well," Irmo said, now fully awake and attentive, "you could tell me about it, if you like, and perhaps we may find an answer to that question together."

Olórin nodded and gingerly took the flower to hold in his hands. It was nice to have something to look at and ground him while memories of the past flitted through his restless fëa, something engulfed in the calm and soothing aura of the Vala whose domain was his home. And he knew Irmo would never judge him for his thoughts and feelings, he would listen and help him understand. 

Without further pretext, he began. 

"I suppose it began when Lady Nienna asked me for a favour many years ago..." 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Olórin found Nienna on the western shores of Aman, a few miles away from her Halls. Her fána stood completely still as she gazed at Ekkaia deep in thought, ignoring the cold waves lapping at her naked feet and the wind tugging at her veil. 

"My lady," Olórin greeted her in a quiet voice so he wouldn't disturb her musings and bowed his head. 

"You wished to speak with me?" 

Nienna turned her head to look at him, fresh tears glistening on her cheeks, and he could sense the Valië's grief weighing down on her fëa even more so than usual. He didn't need to ask why, he knew she was mourning Melkor's death and banishment from Eä. To her, he was a fallen brother, not an enemy to be destroyed, and no amount of rejoicing and reassurance from her fellow Valar would change her mind. 

"Yes," Nienna answered, her voice as gentle as ever and she motioned for him to come closer. 

"I have faith in you that you will be able to understand." 

Olórin didn't know what she was referring to, but he gladly accommodated her request and moved to stand with her, listening to the soothing sound of the sea and following her gaze to the Door of Night in the distance. 

"He is gone, isn't he?" he asked. While the entirety of Valinor was aware of what had happened, no one besides the Valar had been allowed to witness them carrying out their judgement. 

"He is," Nienna confirmed after a small pause. "Though I don't know how long he has been." 

Olórin gave her a puzzled glance. Without averting her eyes from the Door of Night, she explained, "Melkor hasn't been himself for quite a while. Perhaps you heard of his madness. However, I know he is still there, not only lost in the emptiness of the Void, but also the darkness of his own heart. I wish I could have given him peace, both for the sake of this world and his own, but..."

She shook her head, causing a few more tears to fall and flow down her cheeks like shimmering, liquid pearls. 

Olórin contemplated her words for a while until he noticed Nienna gracefully lifting her hand. Upon catching his attention, she held out her palm to show him what she had been carrying, a beautiful golden ring with an obsidian gem, held in place by finely crafted, intricate patterns depicting a dragon and a wolf. 

"This ring belonged to Melkor," she explained. "I felt like it was important to him, so I took it after his hröa was slain. I didn't want them to ask Aulë to destroy it."

"Does Lord Manwë not want it? He is his brother after all," Olórin asked shyly. He didn't want to sound like he was questioning the Valië's judgement, yet he couldn't help voicing his concern. 

"Perhaps," was Nienna's cryptic answer. Her eyes were now fixated on the ring and the weight of her gaze made him wonder what she knew about the significance of this trinket. "However, I feel like there is another Ainu this ring should be returned to instead."

"And who might that be, my lady?" 

Nienna smiled wistfully. "You see, my dear, Melkor was never one to reveal his secrets, not even to Manwë or me. He would never admit that there was someone who meant a lot to him. But there was... dreams and desires are Irmo's domain, and he discovered there was indeed someone very dear to Melkor." 

"You... you mean this ring is..." 

"His wedding ring, yes." 

Seeing Olórin's disbelief, she continued, "When Melkor was imprisoned in the Halls of Mandos for three ages, Irmo was tasked with watching over him alongside Námo. He later told me that a certain Ainu would show up in Melkor's dreams quite often, and he would often whisper his name. We agreed that we would keep his secret."

Olórin nodded pensively. 

"My lady, I am honoured that you trust me with this information, but I wonder–"

"Because I have a favour to ask of you." 

Nienna tore her gaze away from the ring in her palm to look at the Maia. 

"I want you to return this ring to the one Melkor exchanged it with." 

Olórin glanced at the ring, hesitant to take it. 

"I will do my best. Though I will have to ask... who is it that I am looking for?" 

"Do you remember a Maia named Mairon?" 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Olórin paused briefly to gather his thoughts. Even after so many years and everything that had happened since his fateful conversation with Nienna, the things she had revealed to him felt almost surreal. 

Irmo tilted his head to the side, appearing to see right through him. 

"Did my sister's words surprise you, Olórin? That these two, considered to be the greatest agents of evil upon Arda, could still love one another?" 

"Admittedly, yes. Though, of course I know none of us were born evil." 

"Indeed. Our Father gave us the ability to love, and without it, we might not have come here to shape and guard our beloved Arda. It drives most, if not all of us, but in different ways." 

Irmo was silent for a moment, allowing both Olórin and himself to contemplate his words, then spoke up again. 

"But no more of that for now. Please forgive my interruption and continue."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It had taken some time until Olórin was able to sense another Maia's presence in Middle-earth, and even longer to confirm it was indeed the one he was looking for. Unfortunately for him, he soon realised that Mairon was avoiding him, seemingly unwilling to be in the presence of one of his peers. 

He couldn't blame him. If Irmo and Nienna weren't mistaken–and he certainly had faith in their judgement–Mairon had become the second Ainu to lose their spouse, and Olórin remembered Melian's grief all too well. He felt a pang of guilt for chasing after him like this, but it couldn't be helped; and maybe the gesture of returning the ring to him could provide some closure at least. 

Nienna had warned him that Mairon would likely assume he was pursuing him after he had fled from Eönwë. Many were still clamouring for him to be captured and punished like his master–no, his husband, Olórin reminded himself–despite the herald firmly stating that he wouldn't hunt him down nor send someone else to do it, as he had no orders to do so. Such things were far from Olórin's mind as well; he was coming at Nienna's behest, wishing only to help and to heal, his fëa aching with pity for the fallen Maia. 

At last Mairon decided to face him in a secluded valley on the outskirts of what had once been Beleriand, now sunken below the ocean never to be seen again. His fána still bore the injuries of battle and his eyes shone fiercely as he was visibly angered by the arrival of another Maia. Unbridled rage and pain were bleeding from his fëa, nearly causing Olórin to recoil from his presence; he couldn't claim to have known Mairon well before his fall, but he had never seen him or any other Maia like this before. 

"To whom or what do I owe the pleasure of being chased by a lesser spirit such as yourself?" Mairon said in lieu of a greeting. His normally melodious voice sounded like the sharp hiss of a wounded animal. 

Olórin's fána shifted, now assuming an elvish appearance to replace the bird shape he had worn before. 

"Greetings, Mairon." 

It would be wise to ignore the insult, he decided, knowing full well why the other Maia was lashing out. He couldn't find it within himself to be angry with someone whose spirit was in such a pitiful state, plagued by hurt and confusion. 

"I am not here to attack or pursue you. I merely wish to give you something, then I will be on my way," Olórin said, raising his hands in what he hoped would be understood as a soothing gesture. 

Mairon's eyes were burning with hostility and distrust, but he stayed where he was, glaring at the other Maia. "And what would that be?"

"Something that belonged to Melkor." 

"You would dare touch something that was his?!" Mairon snapped, fiery sparks flying from his hair as his rage threatened to boil over. 

"Lady Nienna said you should have it," Olórin said as calmly as he could, though he felt his hand trembling as his fingers closed around the ring he had been carrying. He dreaded what would inevitably come next–not for his own sake, but for Mairon's.  

Taking a deep breath, he held out his hand and presented the ring to him. Mairon froze as soon as he saw it, unable to move for several seconds that felt like an eternity, then picked it up with surprising gentleness, reverently and lovingly. Olórin spotted an identical ring on his finger, confirming what Irmo had told Nienna. 

"No..."

Mairon's voice was now reduced to a broken whisper, and he stared at the ring in disbelief. To Olórin, it seemed as though could see his heart shattering into countless pieces, releasing waves upon waves of pure anguish that shook his fëa to the core. 

"I am so sorry," he said, though he knew the Maia wasn't listening to him. 

"I... I don't feel... him... anymore..."

Mairon fell to his knees, clutching the ring and holding it up to his chest, the weight of realisation too much to bear. His entire fána was trembling like a flame being suffocated, flickering weakly before its light was extinguished. 

"Melkor... no... no..." 

He hid his face in his hands and started shaking his head rapidly. 

"NO!" 

At this moment it seemed to Olórin that something inside him broke and he could only watch any tears the other Maia might have shed evaporating as rivers of fire started to spill from his eyes and mouth, engulfing his fána in flames. Mairon threw his head back and a piercing cry of anguish shook the entire valley, rocks falling from the hills as the very earth under their feet was shaken by his grief. Never before had Olórin heard such agony and despair in the voice of an Ainu, his own fëa quivering within his fána, and he prayed to Eru he would never have to hear such a cry again, begging for something or someone to soothe Mairon's pain. 

A tongue of flame flared up towards the heavens from where the fire spirit knelt, as if it was desperately calling out to his beloved, reaching for him even though he knew he wouldn't answer. All Olórin could do was hide behind a few nearby rocks and shield himself from the torrents of flame spilling from Mairon's wounded fëa as uncontrollable sobs caused his fána to shake and tremble like a leaf in the eye of a fiery storm. 

He didn't know how long it took until Mairon's voice gave out and he collapsed with a faint whimper, still holding on to Melkor's ring like his life depended on it. Cautious, Olórin emerged from his hiding place and approached the fallen Maia. His mission was complete, he could simply assume the shape of a bird and fly home to Valinor, yet he felt like he couldn't leave one of his kind behind like this. 

"Go away," Mairon hissed upon noticing him coming closer once again, his voice hoarse and cracking under the strain.  

"I have nothing to say to you." 

"You need help, Mairon. While Eönwë was right when he said that none of us Maiar have the power to forgive you, I promise that Lady Nienna will protect you if you come home with me. And Lord Aulë as well. He loved you, and he has never given up on you. There are people who wish to help you heal and redeem yourself." 

Olórin was certain he had seen Mairon hesitate for a moment, but then he let out a bitter laugh. 

"I would rather die than serve those who have taken my king and husband away from me and murdered him," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes alight with defiance as he looked up at the other Maia. 

"And the Valar don't love us, Olórin. You can choose not to believe me, but one day you will see."

Olórin regarded him quietly, contemplating his words. While he believed Mairon was wrong, he knew this was not the time to argue with him. 

"I take it you will not come with me," he said and bowed his head. "So be it then."

"I already told you to leave me alone."

"And I will. But never forget that you don't have to walk the same path as Melkor did."

With that, Olórin allowed his fána to shift back into an avian shape and spread his wings. 

"Farewell, Mairon."  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Perhaps it was foolish of me to even ask," Olórin mused, caressing the white chrysanthemum's petals. The memory of Mairon's grief shook him to the core, even after all this time. 

"How so?"

Another flower was slowly growing amidst Irmo's locks while he eyed the Maia with mild curiosity. 

"Well... he ran away from Eönwë and he lost his husband... to us." 

"Yet he did hesitate, even if it was just for a small moment." 

"Mayhaps." Olórin searched his memories one more time, wondering if there were any clues he had missed. "It seemed that way to me back then, though in retrospect I wonder if he merely deceived me, just like he did to Eönwë."

Irmo shook his head. "You are a student of my dearest sister, you know offering mercy and compassion is never foolish, even if the chances of success are low. Mairon may have been able to save himself if he had accepted your offer... but do not blame yourself, Olórin. You did everything you could and you were very kind to him and many others. I know your darling little friends learned a lot from you; they are quite lovely, are they not?" 

Olórin smiled. It hadn't escaped his notice that many among the Ainur were quite taken with his companions from Middle-earth, particularly the Hobbits–Irmo had been more than happy to share his best pipe weed with them. It was sad that their time together would be but a fleeting moment compared to the eternity of the Undying Lands. 

"But I believe this tale has not yet come to an end, has it?" Irmo gently interrupted his thoughts. 

"Indeed." Olórin's eyes focused on the flower in his hands again to collect his thoughts, then he continued. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The piercing scream that had torn through stone and metal, flesh and spirit alike echoed within Olórin's very being long after the dark tower fell and the remnant of Mairon's spirit rose one last time, only to be blown away by the wind. He had returned to Mordor to make sure nothing remained of the evil that had plagued Middle-earth for the last few ages and was standing on a jagged rock, leaning on his staff and beholding the ruins of the dark lord's domain, when he suddenly sensed another presence. 

It was brief, fleeting and nigh imperceptible with the dulled senses of his hröa, yet for a moment it seemed to him as though the mighty figure of Aulë was standing amidst the mountains and looking at the remnants of his lost Maia's kingdom before he vanished once more, and a deep, heavy sigh shook the ground underneath Olórin's feet. 

He was fairly certain that his senses hadn't deceived him, but he didn't call out to the Vala; had Aulë wished to speak with him, he would have done so and not concealed himself. 

It must be a strange feeling for him, being proud of his children but also saddened by his former student's demise, Olórin thought, then sat down to ponder the events that had transpired.

Losing one's spouse, losing part of one's fëa. These were things he couldn't even begin to imagine, and he had sensed the sheer agony tearing through Mairon both times. A cruel fate for a Maia, even for one who had committed so many crimes and terrible acts; yet it was Eru's will that this should be his ultimate fate, so the Children may be free of the great evil that had haunted them for ages, a shadow of his long lost master. 

Olórin wondered, as he had wondered many times before, if Mairon had done all of this out of love for Melkor. If he had tried to rebuild the kingdom they had lost in the War of Wrath and prepare for his return, knowing that the Dark Vala could never be fully destroyed as long as his power remained within Eä like blood flowing through its veins. 

Yet every time he contemplated these thoughts, he remembered the teachings of Manwë, that love was good and pure and paved the road to redemption for oneself as well as for others. Never before had Olórin doubted the words of the Elder King, wisest among the Ainur and closest to Ilúvatar, but now he couldn't help wondering–if it was as he said, how could love have driven Mairon to commit such atrocities and refuse mercy and compassion from his peers? How could love have caused such pain and destruction? 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"And now you would like to know if Manwë is wrong or not," Irmo gently finished the Maia's unspoken thought. 

Olórin's expression was slightly sheepish as he gazed up at him, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I wouldn't presume to question his judgement like that, but–"

Irmo shook his head, unperturbed by the Maia's doubtful mien. 

"Manwë may be wise, but he knows there are things he doesn't understand and that he may err in his judgement; nor would he blame you for asking questions."

"What is your answer then, Lord Irmo?" Olórin asked, turning to face the Vala so his undivided attention rested on him. 

"What Manwë says... it is certainly not wrong. For love is so powerful that it was the one thing that made Melkor snap out of his madness in the final moments of the war and save someone other than himself."

The new flower on Irmo's head had fully grown in the meantime, and he presented it to Olórin: A beautiful red rose, rich in colour and seemingly glowing from the inside. 

"Yet love is not exclusively a force of good and healing. It too may be twisted into something evil and destructive, as you have seen. There is... very little in this world that is as simple as being good or evil." 

He gingerly rearranged his locks and the other flowers so the rose rested in their midst. 

"Manwë, however, is free of evil. He doesn't understand Mairon's desire for revenge or his need to spread his pain to others."

A brief silence ensued, until Olórin nodded slowly. "I see." 

Irmo smiled and pulled him into a hug. "It is quite alright to be sad and grieve for a while if you feel the need to, but again, please don't blame yourself. Mairon's decisions were his own to make until the very end and neither you, nor Eönwë, nor Eru himself could take that away from him. You did what you could."

The white chrysanthemum on the Maia's lap suddenly dissolved into tiny white butterflies that flew around the two Ainur and Olórin felt as if a knot inside of him had been untangled, allowing his thoughts and emotions to flow freely again. 

"I think I understand now. Thank you, my lord."

A lingering sense of sadness remained, yet it was all clear now. It would take a while until he had made sense of everything he saw in Middle-earth, but he knew he was not alone and Irmo and Nienna were there to listen to him when he was ready to open up and heal. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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#gandalf #olorin #irmo #nienna #melkor #mairon #sauron #morgoth #angbang #ainur #the one ring #valinor #fourth age #oneshot #silmarillion fanfiction #my writing #cílil writes #silmarillion #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien fanworks

[velvet4510]

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[theriverwild]

That Which Lies Across The Sea

Chapter 36: Healing

Forge still courtesy of @helenvader

#haladriel #my fic #That Which Lies Across The Sea #TWLATS #saurondriel #Fourth Age

[camille-lachenille]

Fourth Age headcanons (part 1/?):

Aragorn and Arwen's children: Eldarion, Tindómiel and Tinwërínel, Eldalótë

About the picture: Eldarion is wearing the ring of Barahir as well as the Elessar. Tindómiel favours dark colours, especially the royal colours of Gondor, and a few pieces of jewellery. Tiwërínel prefers a lighter and brighter palette for her clothes, and most of her wardrobe is inspired by Elvish fashion. Eldalótë wears bright colours and Elvish cut gowns, and she prefers pearl jewelery.

Eldarion always looks grave and thoughtful (he’s got his dad’s resting bitch face) but is actually very kind and optimistic. He makes for a good king in times of peace, close to his people and always ready to improve their life conditions. One of his chief missions is to expand the school system his mother established even to the most remote parts of the kingdom and founding affordable universities, the most famed being led by his sister. He is very fond of the sea, and spends as much of his time as he can in the coastal regions of his kingdom. He meets his wife, Medliniel, in Dol-Amroth, and they have a daughter, Míriel, who succeeds him on the throne.

Tindómiel and Tinwërínel are twins, born four years after Eldarion.

Tindómiel is stern and studious, preferring the company of old books to people. She is fiercely protective of her family and, much to the amusement of her parents inherited many of Elrond's mannerisms, notably his Disappointed GlareTM. Famed lore mistress, Tindómiel is the Lady of Isengard and dedicates her life to cataloguing and archiving all the things Saruman and his predecessors left in the tower of Orthanc, turning it in a high place of knowledge and studies in the Reunited Kingdom. She remains unwed but considers all the women of Gondor, Arnor, Rohan and beyond she taught as her daughters. She names one of her great-nieces as her heiress, declaring that the fiefdom of Isengard should always be ruled by a woman since men brought only ruin there. The Ladies of Isengard become known across all of Middle-Earth for their wisdom and knowledge.

Tinwërínel is as extroverted as her twin is introverted and she thrives in the political landscape of the Reunited Kingdom. Clever politician and ruthless diplomat, or vice versa depending of the situation, she is one of her father's most trusted advisors and he names her Stewardess of Arnor. Tinwërínel has to abdicate the function when she marries Elboron and becomes Princess of Ithilien, but she remains an active politician even as she raises three sons, and is part of her brother's council. She remains widowed at the age of 110 and returns to Annúminas where she is Chief Advisor of the Steward of Arnor until her death, several decades later.

Eldalótë, born seven years after the twins, is the splitting image of her mother, with her father’s love for wild places and his gift for healing. She is more than happy to be the youngest of the family, as it allows her to travel and explore without any care for politics. When in Gondor, Eldalótë spends most of her time studying the arts of healing, be it in Minas Tirith or beside Éowyn. It is during one of her stays in Ithilien that she meets Elfwine of Rohan, and they quickly start a secret courtship. They wed the year after she comes of age, making her queen of Rohan much to her dismay and her family’s amusement. Despite her initial reluctance, Eldalótë settles well enough in her role and dedicates much of her rule to building Houses of Healing in Edoras. She outlives her husband and, once their son is secure in his rule, Eldalótë leaves Rohan and divides her time between Minas Tirith, Orthanc and Annúminas. She is remembered in Rohan for her great kindess and constant cheerfulness.

About Eldarion's daughter under the cut:

King Eldarion of the House Telcontar, second king of the Reunited Kingdom, his wife Medliniel and their only daughter Míriel

About the picture: Eldarion didn't change his style much as he appears here in his regalia. Míriel is wearing her formal court attire, icluding the ring of Barahir and the Elessar. The cut of her sleeves is a nod to her Elven ancestry while imitating a cape at the same time, which gives her more freedom of movement than wearing an actual cape. Medliniel comes from lesser nobility and she is more comfortable wearing simpler clothes (compared to her husband and daughter) and favours blue, the colour od Dol Amroth, over red and black.

CW mentions of miscarriage

Eldarion meets Medliniel in Dol-Amroth and it is love at first sight for the both of them. They wed after the shortest courtship and engagement possible without seeming entirely inappropriate and are expecting a child within the year. Unfortunately, Medliniel looses the baby and it takes them a long time before trying again. Medliniel miscarries twice more before finally giving birth to a healthy little girl they name Míriel. Eldarion and Medliniel commonly agree not to try for more children because another pregnancy could be fatal to her. They cherish their daughter and make sure she gets the best possible education as a future queen.

Míriel spends most of her childhood with her parents doting on her, but she also makes long stays by her various aunts and cousins to perfection her education. She studies history and ancient lore in Orthanc under the strict instruction of Tindómiel, rides wildly across Rohan with Eldalótë and learns the subtlety of both ruling and motherhood by her aunt Tinwërinel’s side. Strong minded and free hearted, Míriel has three children without ever marrying, though she openly lives with her lover and make no secret he is the father of her children.

When she becomes the first Ruling Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, Míriel continues many of the social refoms started by her father and grandfather. Her greatest accomplishent is to see Osgiliath fully restored to its former glory and, by the end of her reign, she even moves the capital from Minas Tirith back to Osgiliath. Her reign is highly controversed by the nobility but she is well loved by her people, especially the women. In fact, Míriel leads a great reform of the laws revolving around family, marriage and inheritance, and made sure women had equal rights over their children with their husband. She also funded a network of shelters for abused women and children.

And I'll stop here before turning this massive post into a fully fleshed fanfiction.

Next post of this series will be about Tinwërínel and Eldalótë's lives and their children.

#Tindomiel is ace and lesbian she and doesn't like men very much as a rule #she took a look at the mess left in Orthanc by Saruman and whoever lived there before him and went “nah thanks I'll take over from now on” #also the doll maker is back baby! i went crazy with it and i’m not done. #tolkien #the lord of the rings #fourth age #aragorn #arwen #eldarion #headcanons #original characters #fourth age headcanons series

[minubell]

Quick sketches for Rapunzel, Rapunzel so I can put down some ideas I have.

To the left we have Sauron's tower: It is VERY tall, the window is just huge. The rocks supporting the base continue down for some time themselves, making it pretty much only accessible via flight.

Top right is the floor plan for Sauron's tower. Yes, it literally just has the stool and the chair. This gives some sense of scale to how big the space is, and just how empty it is.

In the bottom right is Sauron and Manwe in his eagle form for scale. Personally, I see him as an all silvery-white harpy eagle. In this form, Manwe can just barely fit inside Sauron's tower, as his feathery crest touches the ceiling.

#Tides of war #TOW Lore #Fourth Age #Manwe #Sauron #Mairon