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annoyinglandmagazine · 7 months

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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

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thelien-art · 10 months

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Finrod in his newly acquired glass fiber cloak - the newest and finest fashion trend from the Vanya

This is based on a conversation with @that-angry-noldo discussing Finrod´s need to ✨shine✨ and the Eldar´s fabric choices when wanting to ✨shine✨ - reflect their inner light as well as the trees when they still were there.

The idea of using glass fiber for clothes to make them reflect light was played with throughout the 1890-1950 but where only made into reality a few times - natural the results were frail and everyday use wasn´t optimal, but I´m taking the liberty to make it so as it is the Elvers we are talking about, and maybe a Maia or two joined the project.

Although you can find glass fibered cloth nowadays it is nowhere near the shimmering, delicate garment that where desired, and more of a coarse spun material even though you can still come very close to the desired. Also fun fact, now it´s usually used to fire production clothes.

A reminder that the Eldar are the elvers who went to Valinor and Avari those who stayed (I'm saying this because I forget it a lot of times myself)

#this is in the third of fourth age valinor as i hc him as getting his septum and labaret from the dwarfs #and he has his sigil which i think he first claimed in beleriand #tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #finrod #finrod felagund #findarato #silm art #tolkien art #digital art #my art

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velvet4510 · 22 days

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#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #the silmarillion #fourth age #lotr theories #tolkien elves #noldor #maglor #sons of feanor #lotr poll #valinor #the valar

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annab99awritersdream · 3 months

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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! 😊

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aragornsrockcollection · 2 years

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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.

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cilil · 1 year

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⊱ 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!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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tar-thelien · 6 months

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Patha; Nyarstel

Summary:

Elrond wants to talk with his grandmother about both of his two adoptive fathers, if he even thinks of them as that, and Arafinwe doesn't mind being the message, especially when he´s told of a joyful secret Elrond is preparing to share with Heri Nerdanel.

Patha = Talk/Speech: Quenya; Pakat would be the way to use it when saying talk Nyar- = To relate, recite/tell, talk: Quenya; sat before/at the front of a word Semla = Fixed idea/Will: Quenya; Stel would mean firm, so as to have a firm will - Sel is to intend or mean

word: 1144

Standing outside the art study, Elrond looked nervously around the garden it was in. Lifelike statues were standing around, hidden in bushes and behind trees, as well as below bridges, looking as if they had been placed randomly, yet that only made them look more like moving people. When caught only in a glimpse of the eye Elrond could have sworn he had seen two of them move. Their painted red hair of stone moving around the tree they were hidden behind.

When having interred the big garden of the manor Elrond had almost walked into one of the statues and yelped out loud as he came face to face with Makalaure, only his black shinning hair had faded as had the color of his skin and clothes, making way for the marmor beneath, and small cracks could be found in him.

“Are you sure you want to talk to her?” Arafinwe asked, noticing his hesitation.

Looking up at the older elf quickly Elrond nodded harshly.

“Yes! Of course. It´s what I wanted,” he murmured, “it´s what she owes me. As well as what I owe her,” he added as an after thought.

“What she owes you?” Arafinwe answered with a lifted eyebrow as he quietly chuckled at the Peredhel´s glare shot at him, “what she owes you.”

Nodding one finally nod, Elrond takes a step towards the door and slowly pushes it open at Arafinwe´s instructions before being met with a wall of heavy dark red fabricks in his face, of which has been pushed at him by the wind.

“I did forget to tell you, she tends to have curtains covering both her windows and doors when having a certain visitor.”

“Sounds like she is planning a murder,” Elrond murmured as he pushed his way through the fabric and the dust particles coming out into the open while facing the high king of Valinor.

Open having escaped the heavy curtains he turned around and was hit with even more dust particles, as well as the sound of clinging, like a hammer hitting rock, but a surprising amount of light too, coming from a ceiling window as well as some of the big windows on one of the walls being left wide open.

All over where there standing status. Some of them illustrateing objects, some people, other animals, all in various states. Some already looked done, although they didn´t have the same glint of light in the eye he had seen of some of the status in the manor, or garden, others still just a block of cold stone.

More curtains were heading down from the painted ceiling working as fine walls.

“This way,” Arafinwe said as he showed Elrond through the maze of sculptures and rocks, as well as carelessly placed tools and even some books.

Behind one of the curtain walls, where the sound was louder, a woman could be seen carving into a piece of stone standing on a wooding table, small pieces of stones and dust falling from it. Her long red curly hair had been pulled up in a bun at the back of her hear slowly falling from itself, letting smaller strands of the hair wind around her white loose lased tunic and dark brown loose pants.

In the closest corner, another elf could be seen, with shiny dark straight hair hiding most of the person's face. Some heavy fabrics and wine purple and black occipied the form leaving Elrond to wonder how much the elf was overheating. A pair of hands, now still standing at their presence, had been busy embroidering a red undershirt, where the only thing that could be seen of the person´s skin.

“Heri Nerdanel,” Arafinwe said cheerfully, opening his arm up but now walking close to the green eyed glowing woman who had turned to look at them with surprise.

“I thought you were the servants bringing the tea.” she answered with a lifted eyebrow, clearly not happy about being interrupted in her work.

“I would like you to meet my friend,” Arafinwe continued, unbothered by the cold look he received, “Elrond. He knew your oldest as you might know.”

Frowning the woman shot a quick glance to the other elf who had now returned to embroidering, although stiffly as if listening intensely, “yes. I have been told,” with that she turned back to them, lifting her hammer over her head, “and if you raise one word against any of my sen´s I shall throw stones at thy heads!”

“Herinya-” Elrond began, with surprise straining his otherwise smooth voice with a crack, but was interrupted by the sound of another door than the one they had entered, opening, and a moment later one of the servants of the place stood before them bowing quickly before speaking: “Herinya, it is ready, and standing in the pavilion.”

“That! Would be our tea.” she said with a cold glare, “Onya, do you still want tea, and would it bother you if… our guests… joined us? To talk about whatever they deem so important I guess, I can tell them to come back later and talk with me alone if this is too much at the moment.”

Both Arafinwe and Elrond turned their heads towards the elf in the corner, Elrond with surprise, Arafinwe with a small smile as the figure nodded, making the vail of hair rustle and showing a half bun at the back of the neck which was keeping a surprising amount of hair actively away from the already covered face.

“Thank you Moryo, we won't be long. We came with happy news but wanted to deliver them ourselves so as not to obtain a lot of unnecessary attention.”

Huffing the elf stood up quickly and went to his mother's side taking her outstretched hand and his as he pressed himself up to her glowering at them with cold mithril eyes. So much as Maedhros that Elrond shuddered.

´Moryo´ Elrond thought, ´that must be short for Morifinwe, which would mean he had now seen the fourth son of Feanor and was on the way to meet him. Caranthir the dark.´

Studying the scowling face Elrond thought it was a more fitting name than he had ever thought. The stern brows and drown back mouth, made him look as if he was snarling, mashed with the sharp hooded upturned eyes and red birthmark spreading across the left side of his face as well as his left ear that looked as if it was dipped in heavy big golden earrings a copy of the right, except from the mark.

Both seemed to have shunned the noldorin braids for some reason, although Nerdanel made sense for what she had been doing, it was hard to find out why Caranthir didn´t wear them as Maglor and Erestor had always spoken of him as an elf of traditions.

---

Chapter two will be THE talk - and I don´t plan on writing a chapter three which is why I sat it at 2 Heri = Lady: Quenya; not a daughter of a ruler just a nobble woman -nya = My: Quenya; sat after/at the back of a word Sen = Children: Quenya Onya = My child: Quenya

Caranthir and Elrond, the autistic gang - also I like to think of Arafinwe and Caranthir as old friends, but in the way, Arafinwe didn´t mind babysitting and Moryo was the autistic kid that wanted somewhere quiet and calm to be, but still familiar, and then they just kept on talking even when Feanor got more beef than already bc of Melkor - if anyone are wondering why I mentioned Erestor it´s because I think of him as Caranthirs son, but don´t think Elrond ever got told that, although Erestor probably thinks he knows it.

#tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #elrond #elrond peredhel #nerdanel #finarfin #arafinwe #caranthir #carnistir #morifinwe #valinor #fourth age #my fic

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allbycharles · 11 months

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I love to imagine after several ages even Feanaro gets reborned.

He is seriously chilled down after years of therapy with Nienna. Very nice to everyone and his brothers.

And the only thing he sometimes does to remind them he is still the good old Feanaro is he calls Fingolfin:

FinweFinweFinweFinweNoloFinweFinweFinwe!!!

Which makes Arafinwe laugh his ass off.

And Nolofinwe just facepalms.

#nolo seriously wishes he did not go with that idea years ago #arafinwe is glad to have them both back but still stays the highking just to make sure nothing goes south #feanaro is having great time making new inventions and getting payed for it very well #he uses the money for more inventions and lavish dresses for Nerdanel #Nerdanel is not sure where to put all the dresses and jewellery hut is very happy Fea is back #feanor #nolofinwe #feanaro #arafinwe #finarfin #fingolfin #valinor #tirion #silmarillion #fourth age and beyond mussings

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elennalore · 2 years

Photo

Mairon goes to Taniquetil. A scene from my fic Lightbearer, chapter 18.

The design of Taniquetil inspired by JRR Tolkien’s art.

#mairon #taniquetil #post-canon #fourth age #valinor #art for fanfiction #my art #silm art #silmarillion fanart #lightbearer #tolkien fanart #there's a new chapter and i have made art for it!!

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sarahfarren · 2 years

Text

A call from the undying lands

The western hymn calls with glee,

inviting him to sail the sea.

He knew he must leave,

his realm full of leaves.

Dwelling in middle Earth ends,

as the age of men mends.

Beautiful trees shall bloom,

to save men from doom.

In a long time the sun shined,

and shall set when he gets unbind.

#jrr tolkien #tolkien elves #tolkien #poem #poetry #middle earth #valinor #varda #fourth age

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light-of-the-two-trees · 20 days

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It is possible according to canon that Elrond and Elros were names given by Maedhros and Maglor based on where they found the twins; the names they were given by Elwing and Earendil are probably lost and forgotten. So consider:

Elrond meets Elwing in post-Fourth-Age Valinor. She calls him by the name she gave him, and he does not respond to it, for he has forgotten that name.

#guys much as I love kidnap fam I do hate that what the feanorians did TO elrond and elros is erased sometimes #elrond was basically a father to all of middle earth. he has room to love as many parents and relatives as you can imagine okay #and the same way his relationship with earendil and elwing can be read as complex his relationship with m+m can be read so too imo #and a name lost due to maedhros and maglor can definitely play into that. they kept their lives but lost their names. is this anything #anyway #elrond #elros #elwing #meta #the silmarillion #silm #legendarium tag #and it was not void #no discourse please let there be no discourse here hoping praying

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echo-bleu · 6 months

Note

Disability pride request? Two characters of your choice hanging out, maybe one using two forearm crutches and one using two canes. They can be friends or partners - I just generally love seeing disabled characters interactng with one another!

How about three disabled characters?

Once upon a time @camille-lachenille sent me a prompt about Míriel having Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. I had already sketched a disabled Celegorm with EDS in mind and, thinking about how it's genetic, had an epiphany about Celebrimbor (and the meaning of his name) and I drew him as well. So I wrote a fic about all three of them dealing with chronic pain, but I still hadn't drawn Míriel. That oversight is now fixed!

They have more in common than just chronic illness xD.

This is still titled "The EDS gang" in my files, I'm going to stick to it. Set sometime in Fourth Age Valinor, when most things are good again...

Disabled Tolkien characters series

(Feel free to send me more disability prompts! I love drawing them.)

More ramblings about disability aids that devolved into bullet-point headcanons under the cut. ID and transcription at the end, but they're also in alt text.

[CW: this is all fairly light but discussion of death and trauma and you know, everything that comes with these three.]

I do not know how to make comics. I'm sure that's very obvious but, you know, learning new things and all that. One thing I learned was that my usual style of rendering does not work with it as well so I rendered them entirely twice.

It was meant to be day 21 and 22 of my October challenge, because surely I can draw and colour a full page in a day (spoilers: no). In the end it was a combined 15 hours of work over 3 and a half days because I made it as complicated as I possibly could 😭 Still, I had fun and learned a lot.

Note: Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is a connective tissue disorder, affecting basically how your cells are glued together. There are a lot of different symptoms (and different types of EDS) but a frequent one is joint pain and hypermobility, and it's at least partly inherited.

Míriel:

Red was Míriel's colour first. She's not into gaudy things and rarely wears vivid colours, but almost always something red. She barely wears any jewellery since reembodiment, mostly for sensory reason (She is very autistic. That's something she gave Fëanor, Curufin, Caranthir, Ambarussa and Celebrimbor, at least.)

She died of post-partum (and general) depression and energy depletion from childbirth or something, but the chronic illness that was taking all of her energy and keeping her from her craft certainly didn't help.

Also pregnancy was horribly rough on her, partly because EDS can be affected by hormonal changes.

She's actually been better since reembodiment, because she has better accommodations (Finwë did his best but he was very lost) and also a Vala on hand who makes her very good painkilling tea.

She wears knitted compression gloves that she designed to help with hand pains.

Her wheelchair is of Noldor make, but I'm sure Celebrimbor will have suggestions for improving it.

The tapestry that she is weaving is actually this painting of Finrod that I did a while ago. I figure that she's representing calmer, nicer things now that she doesn't have to weave her grandchildren's downfall and deaths.

Celegorm:

He was in a relationship with Oromë before the Exile. After his reembodiment, it took them a while by they talked it out and forgave each other. Oromë doesn't quite get elves, but he's really supportive.

He has a pair of wolf-head canes carved by Nerdanel. He alternatively uses both, just one and sometimes none depending on activity/pain level.

He wears bandages as compression garments because this is a world without elastane. His leggings have reinforced knees for support.

He's always heard about Míriel having the same thing as he does from Finwë, and he knew that when he started showing symptoms, Fëanor was terrified that he'd fade too. So for a long time, Míriel's story was kind of hanging above his head.

That's why it takes him a while to go seek her out after he's reembodied. Celebrimbor understands why it's important to him and he pushed him to it a little bit, so Celegorm dragged him along.

They're going to get along great. Míriel is both the quintessential grandmother and also she has a twisted sense of humour that Celegorm will just love.

Celebrimbor:

Celegorm was always his favourite uncle, and they became very close when Celebrimbor started having symptoms in the early years in Exile, and Celegorm stayed with Curufin in Himlad for him.

It took Celebrimbor a while to forgive him after Returning (not as long as Curufin but still) but they've gone back to being really close.

He was really unlucky with reembodiment: while he wasn't reborn with the physical aspect of his torture, the memory of pain and the trauma made his chronic pain a lot worse than it was before, and he can no longer walk unaided.

He designed the silver ring and wrist splints back in Eregion with Narvi's help, and ended up literally living up to his name (which means "silver fist/grasping hand").

Paradoxically these were a great motivation for him to work through his trauma and go back to the forge, because he couldn't find a silversmith in Valinor who could make good enough ones for him, even with all of his sketches and specifications.

A lot of his work since reembodiment has been designing and making disability aids for people.

He uses platform crutches to spare his hands as much as possible. He invented and designed them, of course, as well as the KAFO brace that he wears here. He's also a part-time wheelchair user.

He is still wearing dwarven beads in his hair. He obviously didn't bring anything back from Middle-Earth but he asked Gimli to make them for him in remembrance of Narvi. His tunic is also dwarven-inspired.

He is pretty chill about Sauron here. I don't know if there was a redemption (I have feelings about @chthonion's The Harrowing and @mynameisjessejk's Otter Mayhem) or if he's just been through enough elf-therapy to be able to joke about it. Celegorm's sense of humour is just Like That.

Celegorm and Celebrimbor are about to try Vairë's special painkilling tea for the first time 👀

Between all of them they should really open a disability aids shop or something. They just might! Míriel doesn't really ever leave Vairë's house but I think Celegorm and Celebrimbor will keep visiting her a lot, and eventually all of the grandkids will as well.

Image description and transcriptions:

Two digital comic book pages.

Image 1: The first case takes the whole width, showing two pairs of feet with each two canes/crutches on a tiled floor, with a speech bubble saying "Do you think she'll want to see us?"

The second line has two cases in 2/3 and 1/3 format. The first shows two hands in red fingerless gloves working on a tapestry on a loom. The second shows part of a light-skinned face in profile, with curly white hair. Three speech bubbles say "My love?" "Um?" "There are people here asking for you."

The bottom part has one case off-center showing the same hand undoing the brake of a wheelchair, with a speech bubble saying "Your grandson and your great-grandson." above and one saying "I'll be right here." below. Then a full-length off-case portrait of Miríel, a light-skinned elf with shoulder-length curly white sitting in a wheelchair and pushing herself. She's wearing a pale pink embroidered dress with red accents, red fingerless gloves and elbow pad and brown boots and smiling.

Image 2: A single large case shows two elves standing in a room with a tiled floor, with a large door and two tables behind them. There are thread spools on one table and a tea set on the other. One elf, Celebrimbor, is brown-skinned and slightly chubby, with long black hair in a braided bun, wearing a red tunic and dark green pants. He is leaning on two decorated platform combo crutches made of wood and metal, with a KAFO brace on his leg. He wears finger and hand silver splints. The other elf, Celegorm, is pale and has long white hair in a high ponytail with small braids, he has tattoos on his neck and arms and he wears bandages on his shoulders, elbows and wrist. He wears a green tunic, leggings and wrap-around gaiters. He is leaning on a cane and holding up another cane, pointing at the first elf. Both canes have handles carved in the shape of wolf heads.

The speech bubbles are arranged around and below them, giving this dialogue, with the speakers distinguished by the shape of the bubble (the parts in parentheses are smaller text in the bubbles):

Celegorm: "My lady, my name is Tyelkormo, and this is my nephew Tyelpë." Miríel: "I know who you are, my wonderful children. Come sit." Celebrimbor: "That would be nice, thank you." Miríel: "Vairë, my love, would you make us some tea?" Celebrimbor: "My lady!" Celegorm: "A Vala who can make tea! (I could never get Oromë to do it.)" Miríel: "It was a long domestication process." Vairë (off screen): "Hey!" Celebrimbor: "Instant hot water! That’s nice. (I wonder if I could replicate that.)" Miríel: "She makes wonderful hot water bottles." Celegorm: "Oromë just uses his hands as hot pads." Celebrimbor: "Ew, I didn’t need to know that." Celegorm: "What? Just because your Maia burns everything he touches–" Celebrimbor: "Shut up." Miríel: "You must both tell me everything about yourself. And your partners!"

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