#gwindor

[vinyatar]

been through angband and back

#gwindor #tolkien #the children of hurin #silmarillion

[elven-sisters]

'𝔖𝔲𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔩𝔶 ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔬 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔜𝔢𝔱, 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔶...' I hope they'll find their happy ending in Aman ✨😢

#finduilas #gwindor #elf #elves #the silmarillion #silmarillion #tolkien #jrr tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #hobbit #middle earth #mixed media #acrylics #acrylic art #medieval #medieval art #lotr art #elfcore #knightcore #elven princess #fairy princess #fairycore #couple art #tolkien fanart #fantasycore #lotr fanart #medieval core #illustration #tolkien legendarium

[polutrope]

Reminder that there are two tormented escaped Angband prisoners who lost a hand.

#gwindor

[omegas-reincarnation]

The reason I don't categorise the Silmarillion as grimdark - despite the relentless disintegration of both the characters and the world, the endless death and loss of self - is that it is a story about people trying.

Even in the middle of what, at the height of Morgoth's power, must have felt like the end of their world, the story is full of people who keep on trying to do something right. Fingon's forgiveness and rescue of Maedhros, Finrod's self-sacrificial friendship with Beren, Gwindor's determination to help Turin, a complete stranger that he literally met five minutes ago. Celebrimbor gifting the elfstone to Idril in the hope that it would bring her comfort, Maglor adopting Elros and Elrond.

Even the things that go really spectacularly badly, like the battle of unnumbered tears, are born out of a determination to keep trying, keep fighting, even in the face of impossible odds.

The final message of the Silmarillion, its literal epilogue, is that things fall apart, inevitably and irredeemably. And yet, in the middle of the falling apart there people fighting for love and forgiveness and brotherhood and every time one of them fails or dies or gives up, it hurts all over again, because they really wanted to keep going. Not even necessarily out of a hope that things would get better, but out of a belief that it was worth doing anyway.

Even if you lost.

#the silmarillion #tolkien #maglor #fingon #finrod #gwindor #celebrimbor

[koyunsoncizeri]

Gwindor is in Valinor. That is all folks.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #art #gwindor #the children of húrin

[melestasflight]

I was rereading the Nirnaeth chapter last night, and it struck me how many brotherly vibes are present throughout.

How Gwindor goes completely savage after Gelmir is massacred and pursues Morgoth’s heralds all the way to the very stairs of Angband, and even ‘Morgoth trembled upon his deep throne’ as he heard Gwindor’s people banging on his doors.

How Turgon opens the leaguer of Gondolin after 356 years and risks everything he has built to aid Fingon. How even on the last day of the battle, when he probably knows that everything is lost, he ‘hewed his way to the side of his brother.’

How Maglor, the mightiest singer of the Noldor, slays Uldor the Accursed when he draws near the standard of Maedhros.

How Húrin and Huor decide to stand together until the very end, and neither of them leaves, even when ‘all the hosts of Angband swarmed against them, and they bridged the stream with their dead.’ How Húrin screams ‘Aurë entuluva!’ seventy times as he takes down enemies only feet away from where Huor lies dead with all the people of their house.

The fact that every pair of brothers loses one, other than Maglor, and even he would not be certain all his brothers live in the midst of that chaos. And that does not stop them but propels them further until they have given it all.

The battle begins with Gwindor and ends with Húrin. Those who have lost a brother. Those who will now be thralls in Angband, and even that will not be their final end.

Goosebumps. Every. Damn. Time.

#I don’t really know what else to do with this information #I just had to release it into the Void before it eats me on the inside #nirnaeth arnoediad #brothers #gwindor #gelmir #turgon #fingon #maglor #maedhros #hurin #huor #feels #silmarillion #tolkien #cw: death #cw: violence

[camille-lachenille]

Was thinking about just how much characters in the Silm and LOTR deal with pain an injuries on a daily basis. It’s not always said plainly but they exist in the story, they live, they are important, and I wonder how much of them are inspired by Tolkien’s own experience of war injuries/illness. How many of his fellow soldiers came back home disfigured and disabled and were faced with disgust or contempt?

Sure, there’s the whole fairy-tale/mythic aspect of loosing a limb in your heroic quest to get the Magic Object, but what about Gwindor, who was captured by Morgoth and, when he finally managed to escape, was so changed by his sufferings that his beloved rejected him? Gwindor’s not a hero, he’s a simple soldier who suffered through war and captivity and became disabled because of that. How much pain did he live with daily even if it’s never said on the page?

And, still in the CoH, there’s Brandir the Lame. He was born disabled, couldn’t be a warrior, yet held a position of power until his people wanted action and scorned him. Brandir is a healer, a man of wisdom and lore; how much of it is because he tried to cure himself? To ease his pain but also try to "fix" himself in the eyes of his people and be the worthy leader he thought they wanted.

There is Sador ‘Labadal’ too, who chopped his foot off in an accident and is looked down for that by several character (not the least of them being Morwen).

These three characters are all disabled and looked upon with pity, contempt or outright disgust. They did not become disabled in the doing of great deeds, their stories aren’t heroic, and so their disability makes them worthless in the eyes of many.

If you take Maedhros, on the other hand (pun fully intended), he is seen as made greater by his disability. He suffered unthinkable torments and was freed at the price of his right hand, and did many great and terrible things after that. It is similar for Beren, who also lost his hand (arm chopping is not a love language!) but it always portrayed as a good and heroic character, because his disability is the direct result of him taking part in the great designs of the world rather than a banal accident.

And that’s only for the Silm characters, because we don’t want to forget about Frodo of the Nine Fingers, who bore the One Ring to the very fires of Mt Doom. Frodo who returned home sickly and traumatised, plagued with chronic pain, nightmares and a poor health and was only looked at down by the hobbits who did not take part in the quest if the ring. Frodo may be a hero for Men and Elves but he has little to no recognition in his homeland.

Another character I nearly forgot (shame on me!) is Celebrían, She was captured and tortured and despite her physical wounds healing she was never the same again, to the point she had to leave her family to seek healing elsewhere. I see this as a form of mental illness, probably depression and PTSD. And Celebrían is not thought as lesser because of her disability. She is seen as a tragic story, yes, but it’s better than most of the other disabled characters in the Silm.

Anyway, I don’t really know what my point is here, just that I noticed a pattern in the representation of disabled characters in Tolkien’s works, first of all that they exist at all, and second that how they are treated certainly reflects the views of society on disabled people during Tolkien’s lifetime. The way he writes disabled characters isn’t perfect, far from it, but they are here, and I, as a disabled reader, am immensely glad for their existence and I play in the gigantic sandbox of the Legendarium with these characters and others whom I imagine as disabled in any way.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #gwindor #brandir #sador #frodo baggins #celebrían #disabled characters #tolkien legendarium #half baked ramblings by a sleep deprived tolkien fan #tolkien meta

[lycheesodas]

the reason turin was speechless after beleg died is because he was shocked by how bad that joke was, trust me guys i was gwindor’s lamp

#tolkien #silmarillion #children of hurin #turin #beleg #gwindor #the file name for this was 'one last dad joke' #lycheedraws

[nelyos-right-hand]

#silm polls #turin turambar #turin #maedhros #maglor #nerdanel #maeglin #nienor #children of hurin #sons of feanor #feanorians #hurin thalion #hurin #elrond #galadriel #gwindor #morgoth #melkor #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #lotr #did i forget anyone? #whoever says Luthien owns me five dollars #my post

[cuthalions]

Now when Túrin learned from Finduilas of what had passed, he was wrathful, and he said to Gwindor: 'In love I hold you for rescue and safe-keeping. But now you have done ill to me, friend, to betray my right name, and call down my doom upon me, from which I would lie hid.' But Gwindor answered: 'The doom lies in yourself, not in your name.'

— THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN, CHAPTER X: TÚRIN IN NARGOTHROND

Then Gwindor said to Túrin: 'Let bearing pay for bearing! But ill-fated was mine, and vain is yours; for my body is marred beyond healing, and I must leave Middle-earth. And though I love you, son of Húrin, yet I rue the day that I took you from the Orcs. But for your prowess and your pride, still I should have love and life, and Nargothrond should yet stand a while.

— THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN, CHAPTER XI: THE FALL OF NARGOTHROND

#silmedit #tolkienedit #silmarillion #the children of húrin #túrin #turin turambar #gwindor #cohedit #mgifs* #tolkien

[art-of-firefly]

Gwindor - Prince of Nargothrond

With his post-angband appearance as a bonus, i know he shouldn't count among the House of Finwë but i already included Amarië and Andreth and i wanted to draw him too

#my art #silmarillion #house of finwe #silmarillion fanart #the silmarillion #gwindor #my chara-design #house of finarfin

[imakemywings]

When Gwindor and Turin reach the pools of Ivrin after Gwindor's escape from Angband in The Children of Hurin novel, Gwindor says:

"Awake, Turin son of Hurin! On Ivrin's lake is endless laughter. She is fed from crystal fountains unfailing, and guarded from defilement by Ulmo, Lord of Waters, who wrought her beauty from ancient days." (The Death of Beleg)

Finduilas' epithet was given to her by her then-fiance Gwindor:

"...so greatly did Gwindor love her beauty that he named her Faelivrin, which is the sheen of the sun upon the pools of Ivrin." (Turin in Nargothrond)

💔

#gwindor #finduilas #gwinduilas #the silmarillion #tolkien tag #the children of hurin

[elven-sisters]

Gwindor and Finduilas again ✨

#finduilas #gwindor #elf #elves #the silmarillion #silmarillion #tolkien #jrr tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #hobbit #middle earth #mixed media #acrylics #acrylic art #medieval #medieval art #lotr art #elfcore #knightcore #elven princess #fairy princess #fairycore #couple art #tolkien fanart #fantasycore #lotr fanart #medieval core #illustration #tolkien legendarium

[doodle-pops]

Hold Me Tight, I'm Fine

Gwindor x reader

A/N: My first Gwindor fic and it's angsty. I really am the worse. This is a fic which is based on these Gwindor headcanons I wrote a while ago.

Warnings: touch starved Gwindor, descriptions of his scars and brandings, hair cutting, mild angst/comfort

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: No longer able to bear the shame of the floating memories from his traumatic days, Gwindor makes one request that only you can do for him. An act that defines your bond.

You could feel the air shifting deliberately the faster your feet paced to approach his room. The air was foul and musky, thick and foggy. It was nearly impossible to cut through and weave your way to his chambers. What was habitual became a burden…to him. You understood that he wished for no assistance, however, when he chose to stay out of the moving world, time was of the essence.

A simple gesture that held no animosity but rather sympathy, to him, all he saw was pity and felt helplessness. Pushing everyone away was the best intention to avoid the sorrowful eyes of the court and everyone else singing their heart at him. It wasn’t difficult to see that he wished to be left alone and wallow in shame; there was nothing left for him to achieve.

The last person he chose to push away was always the first person he humbled himself to reach out to. His eyes never met yours, wanting nothing more than to hide the ugly scars he attained and his no-longer beautiful eyes you once adored, as he requested your help. You offered to be at his side, but his response was silence. Now, here you were chasing towards his chambers after he reluctantly summoned you.

After three raps to his door, you were greeted with the sight of Gwindor hunched before his vanity. His grey hair scattered around his body like a snowy waterfall of silvery ice, and all he wore was his trousers. To the left of him was a discarded cream shirt and his robes and tunic thrown haphazardly across his bed. As much as his hair covered his back, it did little to hide the disfigured scars and brandings on his skin. All the marks of the Iron Fortress were etched into his fair skin and left him unpleasant. No amount of elvish medicine was able to remove all his scars, leaving the brandings tattooed.

Facing the vanity with his face buried in his hands, he was heaving laboriously. You weren’t sure if he acknowledged your presence since his senses were fluctuating, one minute he was aware and the other, he was unconscious to be alerted of anything.

Sliding across the thick carpeted floor, you made quick observation of the fireplace being out and the curtains down, blocking out all ounces of Anor’s rays. Ever since he returned with the loss of his sight, the glare had always been an issue, but this idea of coping with the strain was only making matters worse. It didn’t matter how many times you broke it to him; he would ignore it and continue.

“Gwindor? I’m here,” you called softly, standing no more than a foot apart.

His body froze and his breathing ceased. Lifting his head out of his hands, you noticed in the faintness of what little light invaded the room, he gave you a side eye before turning afront to stare at the mirror. This was the first time you saw him lock eyes with his reflection for more than five seconds without flinching in sheer and utter abhorrence. His right hand reached out to knock about the vanity and cause a series of clatters with different objects knocking into each other until he found his item. The glint of silver along the blades showed the tiniest reflection of his silvery murky eye and the revulsion he was feeling. Holding the pair of metal blades above his head while it hung, his broken voice echoed louder in the shrouded darkness.

“Cut it…please. I can’t stand it anymore.”

Exhaling silently, your eyes became saucers at his unforeseen request. There were so many things you had prepared yourself to hear from him, but this was an icebreaker. You weren’t sure if he was silently asking you to talk him out of his suggestion or go through and commit to his demand. Nonetheless, you approached and inaudibly removed the scissors from his hands and held them to your chest. Standing behind him and staring at his silvery strands that appeared brittle, even in the faintest of the light, tears were eyes prickling the corners of your eyes the more you gaped.

“Gwindor, are you s—”

“Yes, I’m sure. Please, just cut,” he begged. His voice choked on the last syllable, fearful of the newfound change he was about the make. While everyone else who suffered like him came out of most of their traumatised state, he had no one. Doomed to be alone and his heart clenched.

Reassuring yourself that this wasn’t drastic or life-changing, with shaky hands you lifted the first portion beside his chin and brought the scissors down to clip away at the long strands. The dryness of his hair felt as though the scissors would have broken. All the life had been sucked out his fёa and it reflected with the physical. The buzz in the room grew substantially as you hovered like a bee to a flower. The loud snips of the pair of metal blades against his dull hair sounded like nails on a board. You assumed halfway through the process; he would shoot out of his seat and halt your actions. At least snatch the scissors out of your hand and awake from his maddened nightmare, but he sat like an obedient child sparing no glances at you in the mirror.

The more you cut, the more his skin revealed and the angry fading red zig-zag lines across his skin became pronounced. The brandings of Angband on his left shoulder and the centre of his back became visible. It glowed red with its black hue; one was grotesquely carved and the other was stamped. You still remembered the first time you saw them; you spent weeks crying over them whenever you needed to dress his wounds.

“Is this suitable for you?” you asked sorrowfully. It was impossible to hide the tears in your voice and he heard them.

Still standing behind him with the blades in hand, you noticed his eyes slithering like the curtains were being peeled off his eyes to reveal the task he assigned you. You saw the winces when his eyes fell on his reflection before they opened wider. His nerves riddled his entire body shaking like a leaf endlessly as he raised a hand to touch the shoulder-length hair. “…It…looks better,” he confirmed.

“Gwindor, why did you want me to cut your hair?” the question never left your tongue when the corners of his lips raised. Instead, you smiled with him in return and placed the delicate instrument down to brush his hair out of the way. The serenity he experienced at that moment as your fingers tenderly curled into his hair and massaged his scalp, he visibly sagged deeper into the seat. Lips parted and soft groans escaped.

“Do you want to skip the meeting today and stay indoors? I’ll keep you company,” you suggested with the slight hope that you weren’t overstepping your boundary. It was a hot and cold game with him where his mood was concerned.

For the entire week and more, Gwindor was slipping in and out of his tranquil display and you had reason to believe that it was due to the approaching anniversary of his captivity. Missing a few meetings this week was irrelevant when his health was on the line; you only hoped that he saw the situation the same way you did.

Turning his body away from the vanity and sitting perpendicularly to it, he stared at your longingly at your flowing robes; the small gold embellishments on the teal-coloured material. While his vision fell on the fabric, his line of focus shifted and his mind glided past space and time until he ended up in the void. He buffered before your eyes and it wasn’t the first time, you knew and understood that it was done with overwhelming volumes of emotions attempting to be displayed but was too much for him to handle. While they occurred frequently, they were short-lived.

“Gwindor,” you called and fumbled to place your hand upon his naked skin, knowing the ickiness he suffered.

Snapping his head upwards, his mismatching eyes fell on your concerned face. “You…You would neglect your duties to care for me?”

It did not matter how many times he repeatedly threw the question; you would answer it with the same vigour and genuine affection would always feel towards him. An unconditional love that journeyed beyond the heavens and the earth. Love that could fill the void and melt its coldness enriching it with life and warmth. Continuously providing eternal peace and being his serendipity; fulfilling the undying and unspoken promise of a lifetime. “I will do my very best to always care for you Gwindor…my love.”

You saw it. The world saw it. The heavens and all above and beyond saw it.

The shivers.

Forcing himself to stand from his seat, he easily stood at a height comfortable to prevent the craning of your vertebrate. Actions that were foreign upon his return and filled without warmth were reciprocated. Perhaps it was too forced and hurried, lacking care and gentleness but its symbolisation was the important factor. A squeeze that ignored his strength and your fragility but encompassed you with contentment and the unspoken ‘thank you’, prompted you to return the said action. Your hands fumbled, any touch could shock him out of his tranquil state and send him into trepidation. But you were reassured when he liquefied against your body. 

“My love…I haven’t heard you call me that in a long time. Felt nice.”

Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, you fragilely lifted your hands to stroke his hair and cooed into his ear, “I’ll always call you my love, my dear sweet Gwindor. I’ll always be here for you, please don’t push me away.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, but you don’t deserve me like…this,” he breathed, “you should love someone else.”

You felt anger and ache as he spilt his words. They were his contemplative thoughts, but it was agonising to hear them. “W-…Would you be happy if I loved another?”

There was a pending silence as he fought falsehood but caved into his honesty. “No. I’ll be heartbroken if you left me, but—”

“Then I’m not departing Gwindor. I’m here to stay at your side. Before, after and until the end.”

The buzzing increased once silence fell between you both. His breathing evened out so did his grip around your waist, yet his body did not disjoint from yours. This was the most physical contact aside from healers probing his body. This was the first time he experienced physical contact from the one who loved him the most since his return. He forgot what it felt like to be physically loved and cherished. The touch-starvation was clawing from within to never let you go, to bask and relish in the affection.

“…Yes, my love.”

Masterlist | Underrated Character Event Masterlist |

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @singleteapot @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @stormchaser819 @wisheduponastar @floragardeniahope @batsyforyou

#underratedcharacterevent #gwindor x reader #gwindor imagine #gwindor scenario #gwindor angst #gwindor #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion fic #silmarillion scenario #silmarillion angst #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth fic #nargothrond #x reader insert #slight angst #angst with comfort #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[eilinelsghost]

Song of Sirion

Fic by @welcomingdisaster; Art by @eilinelsghost For @tolkienrsb 2023

Fic Rating: T; Art Rating: G Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Finduilas & Edrahil, Finrod & Edrahil Characters: Edrahil, Finduilas, Finrod, Gwindor Word count: 15k

Minas Tirith burns. Finrod's company rides to the rescue. When an orc attack forces his servant Edrahil and his niece Finduilas to break away from the group, they learn much of each other, and of the land. But Edrahil can feel his doom approach, and Finduilas struggles with the loss of her city. Coming home will not be easy.

More sparrows landed on the rocks. Edrahil let them catch his gaze, and tried to remember the rhyme. “What is seven for?” he asked. Finduilas thought a moment. He could see her lips move as she recited it, the words coming to him in her half-whisper. Five birds for silver, six birds for gold, seven little birdies for— “Doom untold,” she said. Edrahil shut his eyes. “Lovely.”

At long last, it's the day! Go read this wonderful piece by @welcomingdisaster! I had pretty much zero vision for where a story could go with these two when I put this art together (I just really wanted to draw them?) and Lena has taken that and written such an amazing story. It was such a delight to see this come together and I'm so excited that you all get to read it now too!

#trsb23 #finduilas #edrahil #tol sirion #finrod #gwindor #fic rec #my art #silmarillion fanfic #silmarillion art #frankie draws

[koyunsoncizeri]

Gwindor for the Tolkien Reading Day with one of my fave passages from The Children of Hurin.

He has such a gentle soul, to love someone so much that you let them go where they think they would be most happy. And to die with no one to mourn you , nor remember your name.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #gwindor