#hes also half sindarin (born on the end of the great journey)

[surpassingvalour]

grief, in isolation

for anon, who requested “angsty nolofinweans after fingolfins death”

~

Fingon didn’t get to say goodbye.

That was what kept coming back to him: again and again he lost those he loved, never getting the chance to give them a last farewell. His mother hadn’t been able to face him after the Kinslaying; he’d been in the middle of a pointless spat with Arakáno right before he was killed; Turukáno and Írissë and Itarillë had vanished without warning, the better for the secrecy and security of Turno’s kingdom, he said in the letter he left behind.

What a load of horse shit. Secrecy be damned, Fingon missed his family. He didn’t know if they’d made it safely to Ondolindë, what had befallen them there, if Itarillë had gotten up the courage to kiss that girl she’d been so enamoured with before she abandoned her, too—

And now he’d lost his father also. Fingolfin hadn’t even left a note like Turukáno. He’d just...left. Charged into battle with no care for anyone other than himself—no, not even for himself. An eagle had been spied carrying his body away, and if it truly was Thorondor as the rumors said, well. Fingon would have words with him about that. He didn’t even get a body to bury. Why would Thorondor return Fingolfin’s corpse to Hithlum when it would be safer in Ondolindë?

He had Maedhros, at least, to comfort him. Maedhros who had lost his own father centuries before, Maedhros who loved him more than he deserved, Maedhros who Fingon trusted would never, ever leave without a goodbye. Not after the last time.

But aside from Maedhros, Fingon was alone.

~

Turukáno knelt by the cairn he had built with his own hands. Sorontar had watched, solemn and silent, as he had dismissed the watchers and tended to the broken form of his father’s body with his own hands. It was not beneath the King of Ondolindë to honor his father like this, even if Ñolofinwë had not also been High King of the Ñoldor.

He even turned aside Itarillë, urging her to keep Maeglin away from the sight. It was not fair that the lad would never meet his grandfather, but Turukáno did not want Maeglin’s only memory of Ñolofinwë to be the bruised and battered thing he was in death.

Now the work was done, and his hands ached. His robes were stained with dirt, his cheeks with tears, his heart with yet another grief. It was too much, too much. And he was alone—by choice he was alone. He had banished his daughter and his nephew to spare them this misery, shunned his friends and lords when they offered to help. This was something he had to do by himself, no matter how it pained him.

He was so lonely in Ondolindë. This was his glorious kingdom, a living memory of Tirion upon Túna, and he was proud of it, proud of his people—and he was so alone. Elenwë was dead; Írissë was dead; Arakáno was dead; Ñolofinwë was dead. All that remained of his family were Itarillë, sweet Itarillë who he loved more than anything, and Maeglin, the ill-fated child he tried to love in his sister’s place.

And Findekáno, somewhere out there, rising to take the throne. Turukáno should be there, standing beside him, supporting him, and yet—

And yet he had risked everything to create this place of safety. He could not leave, not even for Findekáno’s sake. Not when letting Írissë roam free had led to her misery and death.

At least he had a grave to mourn by. Findekáno did not have even that.

~

Itarillë’s hands shook as she attempted to make her words as smooth and elegant upon the page as they once had been. She breathed deep, and still they trembled. But she pressed on regardless, because she needed to write this letter. She had to let her uncle Findekáno know that his father had been laid to rest.

Her father did not allow communications from the outside world. But Sorontar was here, and Grandfather Ñolofinwë was dead, so surely this would be an exception. Itarillë’s heart broke at the thought of Uncle Finno all alone without any family to comfort him—any family but Maitimo, that was. And though she was not as resentful of her Fëanárion cousins as her father, gone were the days where she smiled and sat on Uncle Maitimo’s lap and read him stories written by her mother. She could not muster hatred for him, but neither could she muster love.

Dearest Uncle Findekáno, she wrote, and then paused. Was it alright to write in Quenya? She knew her uncle went by Fingon now, that with Thingol’s ban upon their tongue everyone outside of Ondolindë had changed their names...but surely an Eagle-borne message would not be scrutinized by the King of the Sindar. Then again, if she ever hoped to leave these walls, she ought to practice her Sindarin.

Dearest Uncle Fingon, she tried again, this time in Sindarin. Yes, this was better; it took more effort to think in this second language, which meant she could not spend so much energy purely upon grief.

I write to you because my father will not. I am certain you know this already, but your father and my grandfather, High King Ñolofinwë Fingolfin, has perished...

Itarillë wrote until her hands cramped and her mind went blank—and then she threw the letter in the fire. How could she write to Uncle Finno now, about her grandfather, when he didn’t even know his sister, too, was dead?

~

Maeglin was used to the stares. He was different, an outsider, the only newcomer to Gondolin since its foundation. At least, the only newcomer who yet lived. Everyone seemed to discount Eöl.

So of course people stared at him. It wasn’t all bad; many of them were just curious. And they got used to him after a time, especially when he started to work in the forge and they came to appreciate him for his craft. And then the king his uncle had declared him a Lord of Gondolin, with all the pomp and circumstance that entailed, and people looked to him as some sort of leader instead of a stranger. He still wasn’t quite used to that.

But these stares—this time they unsettled him.

They weren’t looking at Maeglin, Eöl’s son, the stranger, the half-Avari changeling, the boy who flinched from loud noises and couldn’t stay long out in the sun. They weren’t looking at Lómion, Írissë’s boy, the poor royal orphan, the young man who stuttered through his Quenya and couldn’t make any friends. They weren’t looking at Maeglin the smith or even at Lord Maeglin of the House of the Mole.

No, for the first time, people stared at Prince Maeglin, grandson of Fingolfin, the castaway heir of a broken throne.

Maeglin had never met Fingolfin. Turgon hadn’t even let him see the body. He didn’t know if he resembled his grandfather, if Fingolfin would have loved him or hated him, if he would have been welcomed into the great Ñolofinwëan family as Aredhel’s son. And now even the unrealistic fantasy of meeting those relatives of his who still lived was being crushed.

He only had the one grandfather. Eöl had been one of the Unbegotten, fatherless, woken at Cuiviénen. That had seemed wondrous and exciting when Maeglin was a child, and Eöl had for once been happy to talk about the past, eager to remind his son that he, too, had woken alongside Finwë and made the journey west. Only he was braver and better than any Ñoldo, because he had done it alone.

But Maeglin had loved his mother’s stories more, when it came down to it, though the legends were not as grand when he saw them up close. He didn’t feel like Fingolfin’s grandson, not when he’d never met the ellon. And now he never would.

~

Anairë hadn’t known who to go to when she felt her marriage bond break. Eärwen still had her husband, the Valar had doomed Ñolofinwë to his fate, most of her old friends had left with her husband when he marched away from her. It had been centuries—she had tried to move on—she had closed their bond long ago. She didn’t expect it to hurt so much when he died. She didn’t even expect to know.

In the end there was only one person she could talk to. But drawing Nerdanel out of isolation was not an easy task.

The first years after the Flight of the Ñoldor were hectic and dreadful. Nerdanel, Anairë, and Eärwen had stuck close together for survival, but when things began to settle down... Well, Anairë and Eärwen had always been closer to each other than to Fëanáro’s wife. They loved Nerdanel, of course, but...well. She had distanced herself from the line of Finwë even before her husband’s rebellion. And her husband...

And so they drifted apart. Anairë never felt alone, not with Eärwen, and later, not with Arafinwë, too. How strange that her husband’s little brother would welcome her into his bed! Such a fate was not one she could have predicted when she married Ñolofinwë. She had believed then that they would never be parted, that strangeness of Míriel and Finwë and Indis was unique. She knew better now.

And yet: Eldarin marriage was forever. The bond had broken with Ñolofinwë’s death—she didn’t even know how he had died—but it was still there, just...in pieces. Anairë didn’t know how to start reassembling them, if she even could.

Nerdanel’s house was empty the first time she worked up the courage to visit. The second time, her once-sister turned her away. The third time, however, Nerdanel invited her inside.

It was awkward and painful and confusing. But Nerdanel confirmed what Anairë had guessed: yes, this meant Ñolofinwë was dead. No, it would not be possible to rebuild their bond, not with him still confined to Mandos’ Halls.

“But,” Nerdanel had said bitterly, “your husband was a valiant king. I have faith that he will be released someday.”

Anairë did not need to ask about her opinion on Fëanáro’s fate. She, too, had known the Spirit of Fire.

The visit was worth it, though it did not bring peace to her heart. At least now Anairë knew that she was not alone in her strange grief, supposed to be foreign to the Blessed Realm.

And Ñolofinwë would return to her, someday. She just didn’t know if she would return herself to him.

~

[also available on AO3]

#silmarillion #nolofinweans #fingolfin #fingon #turgon #idril #maeglin #anaire #finno #turno #nolo #fic #op #a king is he that can hold his own #the names and kinship of their princes

[absynthe--minded]

If Supernatural Can Get Fifteen Seasons, The Silmarillion Can Get Fifteen Seasons: An Overview

I’m going to be going into much more detail in individual season-specific posts, but for the moment, here is the extremely condensed look at what each of these seasons would entail plotwise. I’ve included a cut for length; I hope this translates to mobile well. I’ve followed chronology more or less as closely as I can, adding additional time in places where I thought it made sense or moving events closer together for thematic resonance, and I’ve included Russingon because I’m me and of course I did.

The idea is that this is a 2D animated series rated TV-MA (comparable to R for feature films in the US, or any of HBO’s shows) with fifteen seasons, 26 hourlong episodes each.

Season 1: Valinor, and the unrest between the houses of the Noldor, interwoven with stories about the beginning of the universe/the Great Journey from Cuiviénen/etc. Establishes our core Valinorean cast, and hints at Thingol being a presence later. Main storyline involves Finwëan Family Drama, with bonus Melkor Fucking Shit Up. We meet Maglor's secret wife Aeriel, Curufin's known wife Annamírë + his son Celebrimbor, and become aware of Fingon and Maedhros's love affair. The Sword Incident and Fëanor's banishment to Formenos are featured. The audience knows Melkor is plotting something but doesn't know what. Series finale is the Darkening of Valinor - like, the last thing the audience sees before the series ends is the elves' festival in Tirion and then everything goes dark. Roll credits.

Season 2: Cold open on Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm finding Finwë's body + realizing the Silmarils are gone. Flashback to Melkor's plans, and we see the Darkening from his perspective. He flees across the ocean and Ungoliant vanishes. Cover the drama between Fingolfin and Fëanor over the crown, Lalwen and Findis and Finarfin rallying around their brother, etc. Maedhros and Fingon marry. Fëanor convinces nearly all of of his loyalists to leave specifically to avenge his personal losses, Fingolfin has a larger amount of people who want to go East to fight Morgoth. Set up a conflict between Fingolfin and Fëanor here - Fingolfin does actually want to defend the elves still living in Arda proper and the soon-to-come Men from Morgoth's influence, while Fëanor is raving about how I Will Not Be Replaced. (This is not strictly canonical, but it is a good contrast of their leadership styles, and it widens the gap between them/adds another reason why Fëanor would perceive Fingolfin as a threat.) Kinslaying at Alqualondë, Finarfin and his people noping out, Fëanor seeming to forgive/make nice with Fingolfin after his people joined in the fight for the ships. He offers to sail East first, with the justification that if there is danger there he'll be the first to encounter it. Maedhros is reluctantly parted from Fingon. Maglor reveals to Amrod that he was married, and his wife died in the battle. They arrive at Losgar, empty out the boats, and make camp for the night. Amrod goes back onboard the ship to sleep. Maedhros wakes up early, finds his father awake, and asks if he can take the boats back West to pick up Fingon et al. Fëanor loses his shit and starts rousing everyone for the shipburning. Maedhros asks him not to, and reveals his marriage, and Fëanor's response is to throw the first torch. Amrod dies, and none of his brothers can get to him. Fingolfin's host sees the flames from across the ocean, and turn towards the north and the Ice. End season.

Season 3: The host moves inland to Mithrim and begins to set up camp. They've met some Sindar by now, and they carry word back to Doriath that Finwë's son and grandchildren have come back to Arda. Thingol tells Lúthien, who is just past her majority into adulthood, a part of his life story that she hasn't heard yet: that Finwë was his best friend, and that he'd been on his way to see Finwë when he was sidetracked by Melian. He decides to let Fëanor and his host stay in Mithrim in memory of that friendship. Dagor-nin-Giliath happens, Fëanor dies at the end of the second episode. Episode 3 deals with Maedhros being hastily crowned, and receiving word from Morgoth that he'll parlay for a Silmaril, and him riding out despite his brothers' suspicions. He's taken captive, end episode. Episode 4 is after a 58-solar-year timeskip, revealing the fate of Fingolfin's host on the Ice. We open on a dream of Elenwë drowning by Turgon; he wakes to reassure himself that Idril is all right and then everyone continues on. The whole episode is taken up by the Ice and the Battle of the Lammoth, ending with Argon's death and the rising of the Sun. Next episode starts with the elves but cuts over to humanity, newly awakened in Hildórien - this is a hint of what’s to come. Fingolfin's host challenges Morgoth and goes unanswered, and then return to Mithrim and settle on the opposite side of the lake from the Fëanorians, who are doing SUBSTANTIALLY better bc they stole a lot from their fellow Noldor and they also don't treat the land they're living on like Thingol's, vs Fingolfin who refuses to do anything except the bare minimum his people need to survive until they get Permission. Basically the rest of this season is some of the events of Blessed Hands, with Maedhros's rescue and recovery and ensuing family drama. Five solar years pass, and the season ends with him and Fingon riding up to the outskirts of the Fëanorian encampment.

Season 4: Season opens with Maedhros being reunited with his brothers and opening formal negotiations for an apology to Fingolfin. Thingol opens formal negotiations with Maedhros and Fingolfin, but neither one reveal to him why they've come to Beleriand/the circumstances surrounding their departure. Fingolfin wants to speak to Thingol personally, and Maedhros defers to him. Permission is granted for the Noldor to settle in the north of Beleriand. A council meeting is held to settle the matter of the High Kingship; Fingolfin is elected and Maedhros votes for him, angering his brothers. He offers to take up residence in the northeastern mountains near Angband, and Fingolfin grants him and his House lordship of that region. The Fëanorian host begins to depart, but postpones their journey for the Mereth Aderthad. Beleg, Daeron, Mablung, and a few other Sindarin elves attend the feast. Orodreth meets his future wife. Last half of the season covers 40 years - Turgon and Finrod have their visions, the Noldor begin to construct multiple settlements, and attack Morgoth with renewed strength. Season ends with the triumph of the Dagor Aglareb and the departure of Turgon from Nevrast with his host.

Season 5: Season opens in Doriath, with Galadriel having taken up residence there. Brief summation of the beginning of the Siege of Angband. Angrod pisses off Thingol and causes the Ban on Quenya, and news of this is carried to Himring, Nargothrond, and Gondolin, giving us a sense of their status/construction. Caranthir meets the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and strikes up a friendship/partnership with them. Fingon visits Himring once it's finished. Gondolin and Nargothrond are completed. Orcs attack Hithlum by coming up the Lammoth but are turned back. Maedhros, Caranthir, Maglor, and Celegorm go to Barad Eithel for the bicentennial of the Mereth Aderthad. Tension here is primarily political/slice-of-life - it's peaceful, even if it's a watchful peace, and it seems like Morgoth is pretty effectively held at bay. The only exception is Aredhel, who grows dissatisfied with Gondolin and finally leaves after a massive fight with Turgon about everything from his family loyalty to his politics to his taste in clothing. Young Glaurung is turned back easily by Fingon and a few other soldiers. Season ends with Finrod getting separated from the sons of Fëanor while on a hunt and encountering Men in the woods, changing everything.

Season 6: Speedrun Part Two! This is the Season of Men and Politics, covering 145 years. We see the Edain choose to integrate into Noldorin society, with all the lumps and bumps this causes, and how they respond to the elves around them. Bëor, Marach, Haldad, Haleth, Haldar, Malach, Zimrahin, Hador, Adanel, Bereg, Amlach, and Andreth all become important characters. The Green-elves can't stand Men bc they're insufferable vegans, the Sindar are isolationist and suspicious save for a few of their Marchwardens/soldiers, and the Noldor are eager to make new friends. Focus is given to the tensions between the different Edainic groups and philosophies, and how different Houses and clans interact with elves and dwarves. There's not a lot of certainty that the decision to stay was the right one, and different voices have different opinions. All this tension culminates in two things: the council meeting that ends with Bereg leaving Beleriand along with a thousand followers, and the Haladin being trapped behind the Gelion-Ascar Stockade and saved by Caranthir and his forces before going to Brethil. The resolution of this season-long arc is the Edain essentially deciding that if they're going to stay, they'll stay on their own terms, and each House decides what that means. Andreth and Aegnor meet and fall in love. The Athrabeth gets an entire episode. Elvish character drama that isn't about interacting with Men is kept to a minimum except for Aredhel's arc - this is the season where she loses her guards, gets stuck in Nan Elmoth, and encounters Eöl. He's dark and creepy and mysterious and she's at once afraid of him and kind of enamored by his difference from everything she's known, but he quickly turns awful. Huor, Morwen, Rían, Emeldir, Barahir, and Húrin are introduced. Maeglin is born, and grows up, and he and Aredhel escape Nan Elmoth and make a run for Gondolin with Eöl following. The Bragollach and Aredhel's death make up the season finale.

Season 7: Season opens with Fingon's coronation, Maedhros crashing said coronation, baby Gil-galad being sent to Fingon to be his ward and then sent away to Círdan on the coast, and the revelation that Sauron has taken Tol Sirion and Dorthonion has fallen. Flashbacks to various parts of the Bragollach: Celegorm, Curufin, and Celebrimbor saving Orodreth from Sauron's forces and fleeing to Nargothrond/Emeldir fleeing over the mountains to Brethil with the Bëorian civilians while Barahir and Beren and what's left of the fighters remain/Huor and Húrin being taken to Gondolin. Maedhros begins plans for Revenge, Fingon starts leveling austerity measures against the nobility to finance refugee relief, Gondolin mourns Aredhel and doesn't know what to do with Maeglin, and Nargothrond adjusts to having C&C around. Barahir tells Beren about Finrod's oath to always help their family. Sauron tricks Gorlim and slaughters everyone but Beren, who tries and fails to defend Dorthonion and finally flees south and gets lost in the woods of Neldoreth. He meets Lúthien, falls in love with her, and runs afoul of Thingol, who decides to use him to cause infighting in Finwë's descendants. Quest for the Silmaril, with all that entails, meanwhile Fingon struggles with High Kingship and Maedhros makes alliances with the Easterlings and the Dwarves of Belegost. Plenty of time is given to Beren and Lúthien and the Hunt for Carcharoth, with the season finale being their marriage after they return to life.

Season 8: Season opens with Huor and Húrin leaving Gondolin and returning home just in time for battle plans to really start ramping up. If everyone's attacking Angband, no one's attacking Doriath, and if Morgoth is defeated, maybe two Silmarils are really all we need, or so we hope. This is an entire season dedicated to loose ends - Thingol's refusal to join the Union, Orodreth assuming lordship of Nargothrond, Gondolin drama, etc. Morwen and Húrin marry and have Túrin and Urwen. Huor and Rían court and fall in love and marry, and Rían gets pregnant. Beren and Lúthien sneak away from Ossiriand with an infant Dior to visit Beren's family and are present for the wedding. There are little skirmishes, and some suspicions of treachery among the Easterlings that get shut down both by Bór's steadfastness and Fingon insisting that everyone's allied here and due complete respect. A plague hits Estolad, with Urwen dying, and Húrin trying to convince Morwen to send Túrin to Doriath since he's now blood kindred to the King. Morwen refuses, and discovers she's pregnant again as Húrin marches off to war. The Nirnaeth is a three-part season finale, with Tuor's birth juxtaposed against Huor's death.

Season 9: The Children of Húrin/Fall of Gondolin Extravaganza, Part One. Túrin is sent away to Doriath, grows up there, spends time on the marches, falls in love with Beleg and marries him in elvish fashion, and then finally snaps because he can't deal with Menegroth's racist bullshit anymore. Tuor, raised by elves, is finally captured and enslaved. Saeros dies. Túrin leaves Doriath to become an outlaw. Tuor survives as a thrall for years. Morwen and Nienor flee to Doriath, Gwindor escapes Angband and makes his way south towards Nargothrond, Beleg is killed by Túrin, and Tuor finally escapes thralldom. Tuor arrives at Nevrast and Túrin arrives at Nargothrond in the same episode. Ulmo appears to Tuor, and Túrin discovers from Gwindor that Húrin and his entire line have been cursed by Morgoth. Contrast Túrin's desire for action now with Tuor's somewhat careless wandering. Tuor meets Voronwë and they make for Gondolin. Glaurung attacks Nargothrond, and it falls. Túrin escapes into the wilderness and crosses paths with his cousin. Nienor loses her memory and is found by the men of Brethil in the same episode that Tuor comes to Gondolin. End season.

Season 10: CoH/TFOG, Part Two. Túrin goes home and finds his mother and sister gone and makes a mess of things but manages to escape. Tuor tries to tell Turgon to leave and can't convince him, and decides to remain in Gondolin. Tuor and Idril/Túrin and Nienor/Dior and Nimloth meet and fall in love, with this arc culminating in them all marrying in the same episode with the last scene cutting between the three ceremonies. Glaurung returns. Túrin kills him, Nienor gets her memory back, they die. Eluréd and Elurín born. Wanderings of Húrin, including the curse on Gondolin for not letting him in. The Nauglamir comes to Doriath, and with it the first echoes of doom. Season ends with Húrin and Morwen reuniting and their deaths.

Season 11: TFOG Part Three. Thingol gets nerfed by dwarves. Mablung dies. Battle of the Thousand Caves, Battle of Sarn Gebir, where Beren takes the Silmaril back from the dwarves and sends it to Doriath again. Melian departs for Valinor. Dior crowned King of Doriath. Elwing born. The Fëanorians attack Doriath in the Second Kinslaying but Elwing escapes with the Silmaril and makes it to the Havens of Sirion. Maeglin caught by Morgoth and tortured. Maedhros learns Elwing has the Silmaril but forswears the Oath. The actual Fall of Gondolin is a six-part season finale.

Season 12: Season opens with Maedhros futilely sending letters to Elwing pleading for her to relinquish the Silmaril. She refuses, being in her mid-teens now. Most of this season, the Fëanorians are a distant threat; the majority of the story is Eärendil and Elwing falling in love and assuming leadership of the Havens. Gil-galad becomes High King of the Noldor. Círdan starts advocating for asking for help from the West. Celebrimbor escaped Nargothrond's fall and is living as a civilian in Sirion. Idril and Tuor sail for Valinor, their fates unknown. Years pass. Eärendil and Elwing marry, and Eärendil resolves to try to go for help once more. An absolutely kickass ship gets built. Elrond and Elros are born. Eärendil sails West. The Fëanorians are unable to stave off the Oath any longer and attack the Havens, destroying everything. Elwing, convinced her sons are already murdered and having flashbacks to the disappearance of her brothers, jumps from the cliff with the Silmaril and flies for Eärendil's ship. Elrond and Elros are 'adopted' by Maedhros and Maglor. Season ends with a new star appearing in the sky, and Maedhros and Maglor recognizing it as a Silmaril and wondering what that means.

Season 13: Season opens with Gil-galad and Círdan and what Mannish and Dwarvish refugees they've encountered beginning to consider trying to fight back against Morgoth again, as he's been attacking their last remaining refuges. It's been seven years since Sirion was sacked, and no one's seen Elrond and Elros since their disappearance. A pair of twenty-year-old-by-human-standards twins who look neither elven nor human show up on Gil-galad's doorstep, and Círdan recognizes them as the missing boys. They won't talk about their childhood at all, but they say they're here to help in whatever way they can. Hostilities escalate quickly. Halfway through the season the Vanyar and several reembodied Noldor and Teleri arrive in Beleriand, led by Ingwion and Eönwë and Finarfin. The War of Wrath begins.

Season 14: Just. An entire season of the War of Wrath. It's decades of war there's a lot of shit to do here. The biggest thing is that Elros meets Men for the first time and feels like he's come home, starting at the bottom of their ranks and rising through them meritocracy-style. He meets a woman named Elwen who's essentially a pirate and falls in love with her.

Season 15: The first half of the season is the last bit of the WoW, ending with Eärendil killing Ancalagon and breaking open Thangorodrim. Sauron escapes, Morgoth is cast into the Void. Elrond and Elros make their Choice. Celebrían is born, with her naming witnessed by all the reembodied Arafinwëans. The elves who wish to return to Valinor do so, with some - Gil-galad and Galadriel and Celebrimbor, namely - electing to stay. The Valar reward the Men involved in the war with Númenor, though not all of them choose to go. Those that do elect Elros as their King after the Valar have departed. Loose ends are tied up, the beginnings of Middle-Earth are established, and the series ends on a shot of the setting sun from the point of view of Elros's palace.

More specific examinations of each season are coming. But this is a basic idea of what I’m looking for, this would be my Ultimate Dream Adaptation. I could probably cut it down to eight seasons? Probably. But then I’d lose that precious pacing.

#yes I'm well aware fifteen seasons is BONKERS #but if DBZ can run for always So Can We Damn It #the seriesmarillion

[skyeventide]

the Dagor Dagorath is near. we set the scene a few centuries before the final battle and follow the story of some elves you do not know... and some you very well might.

gon post this on AO3 when it’s finished but have the first part here in the meantime.

*note about “laiqendi”: I’m not missing a U, the word is in qenya

-------------- 1

Cemenien was daughter to parents who had worked the earth in a far hamlet of the south of Aman, dwelling in the plains of Yavanna, on the edge of the thick woods of the Lord of Forests and just west of the circling Pelóri.

She was born during the Noontide of Valinor, a time half mythical, half forgotten to those who had come after. She had been named daughter-of-the-earth by her mother, and Valinë by her father, who wished for her happiness. In later years, both names bore great irony to her, who had risen tall and proud to the chance of leaving for a new home.

Hilyatúrë Nildur was born in Tirion in the same age. His mother named him a loving servant and his father, for he had strong opinions about the Princes and their Houses, named him mighty-follower. Nildur followed indeed, and he wielded the sword with the same strength with which he used to wield the pen.

But why he should be a servant of the loving, he never quite understood.

Cemenien and Nildur never met during the wars of Beleriand; she died during the Dagor Bragollach and he during the Nírnaeth Arnoediad.

When Nildur at last returned to his likeness in Aman, he lay himself to his parents’ feet, on the steps of their house, and asked that he be freed of all his duties, of all the pain that it had brought him. Thus, he kissed them and his brother goodbye and left Tirion through the southern gate, setting forth towards the arduous task of forgetting.

Cemenien yearned for a body longer and more bitterly, and it was not until she had sweated and cried out that bitterness as mortals would a fever that she was allowed to return. She did not go to Tirion, she did not breathe the sea; instead, she headed home, for there were things that she regretted, and she had deliberated that the highest form of healing for herself and those she had most hurt was not expecting that they grant her forgiveness.

Both Cemenien and Nildur had loved, once, but had never married. Though some say that love is like the mountains, weathering storms and time unchanged, an immortal soul may find itself too altered by the passing of the eras. As they both had grown into another maturity, born of grief and betrayal, they found that seeking solace in each other was perhaps a deserved sort of peace.

When she birthed their firstborn son, as she lay exhausted by labour on their nuptial bed, Nildur wrapped the child in their richest piece of cloth, dyed with the crunched shells of the coasts and threaded in gold, and placed him in her arms.

Inspired as often are those that are come newly into motherhood, she named him Culdaner.

A name in Quenya was perhaps uncommon in the southern pastures, where elves who were not Eldar or had not crossed the mountains in nights long past were now in great numbers. They had come to Aman either through death or through the journey on the Straight Road, and had brought with them ancient dialects, mingling them with Sindarin; children of woods and moors and yet drier lands, they had picked the forests and the fields as their dwelling.

Indeed, it was in the north that Quenya was still spoken, that had never ceased being spoken, for the Vanyar still sat gladly at the feet of Taniquetil.

But Cemenien’s hamlet too had those who had never left and Quenya, in greetings and in names, was oft still in use.

Nildur and Cemenien’s neighbour had recently had her second child, a daughter much wanted. Lothril thus came to their house with a cordial of sweet mead and a knowing smile.

She said to Cemenien: « Drink it and recover from that pallor. »

With weary arms, Cemenien took the cordial and sipped miruvor, its new recipe brought back from Middle Earth, spreading vital strength in her tired limbs.

« I would happily tell you that the second time is easier », Lothril said also, « but I’d be lying. To me, it truly was not. »

Cemenien laughed. « There will not be a second time, believe you me. »

For she felt that she had given this one her everything.

As she nursed the new-born, Nildur worked their land and picked up the quill again, and during their nights he sat by the babe’s cradle, his attempts at bringing him sleep varying between caresses, songs, repeated pleas, and a curious form of market bartering.

He oft returned to his wife with a great sigh. « Blessed Irmo when he brings slumber. »

« You know what they say about sleep, that it is only for the weak and the reasonable. »

« …Who says that? »

« …Just me, dear. Just me. »

So they toiled, but joyfully, and they thought their new life satisfying and their serenity sufficient.

When Culdaner was but a child who could only walk by holding the hand of his mother, an elf came to the house approaching down the dusty path that twisted and turned between the crops gardens, and he had dark hair and blue eyes that shone of lost light, and a short beard grew on his face, for he was in the third age of his life.

« My name », he said, « is Ondomacil. I came to see Cemenien, as I understand she is returned and has a child now. »

Though Nildur did not call her, for he wondered at the stone-hard set of the stranger’s brows, she soon was on the threshold of her house, her hand against the door she had herself carved anew. Bare-footed, a shadow over her eyes, she descended to the gate.

« Nildur, this is my grandfather. » Thus Cemenien opened the gate and welcomed her kin with restrained gestures and slow steps. Long did they speak inside the house and long did Nildur wonder at what was said, as his hands parted the soil to plant seeds.

In the shadow of the kitchen, Ondomacil sat without drink or food, for his granddaughter had never been one who favoured politeness above all else, and the most delicious apple cider could not sweeten whatever words they had to share.

At length, he begun: « Has your mother, or your father, returned? »

« Neither has », Cemenien answered, « and if they did return, should they be permitted to and should they want to, I did not see them. »

« It has been many ages, many years. Enough that I no longer count them. »

In the darkness of Mandos, Cemenien had watched the tapestries of history unfurl; little else there was for her to look at but her own sorrows. « They died in Doriath », she said, and added nothing.

« Did you find what you sought across the sea? »

Cemenien could forgive the question but did not forgive that he was he who asked it. All words she may have spoken reached Ondomacil as bile rises to one’s stomach after an ill-considered feast, so he bowed his head, his movement stiff but his apology true.

« I did not come for your anger », he said.

« Then do not ask me of what we sought or what might have been. I sought everything and found nothing, and was left with the shell of me. But you spoke rightly, it has been many ages. »

Her grandfather lifted his head and gazed upon her, a softness now mellowing in his voice. « I do not know for how long you have been here. I left this place a long time ago and now dwell in the forest with the Laiqendi and some of the Ingwi. But words fly as the birds – I hear you have a son. »

« Yea, he is but a toddler still. »

Ondomacil smiled; Cemenien recalled how her grandfather’s smiles sat upon his face as something chiselled with great and gentle care from harsh rock: the years had not changed them.

« May I see him? », he asked.

Culdaner sat on the bedroom floor running his small hands on the crotchet of the sheets’ rim; she picked him up and brought him to see his great-grandfather, who held him on his knees like a precious gift.

Ondomacil only left when the Sun had begun descending with her chariot and the Star of Eärendil shone radiant in the red forge of the sky.

Nildur found his wife with Culdaner on her legs. They sat in front of one another as she relayed her conversation with Ondomacil.

« He was not in Beleriand, I take it », he said softly.

Cemenien shook her head. « Nay, but he has seen it. He has no father nor mother, for he was of the Tatyar, and once he had left Endor he chose not to return. »

« I did wonder at the scars on his arms. »

Ondomacil had taken his name as an epessë during the Great Journey, when the darkness encroached upon the host of the Eldar. Stone-sword, first after the weapons that the elves had devised out of sharpened rocks, and in later times after the blades that Oromë gifted them, so that they may protect themselves against the nameless dangers of the long unwinding road.

More at home among the Avari that had come to Aman, he invited the family that he had left among the woods upon his departure. Later, Nildur and Cemenien sat with their son in their garden, to gaze upon the bright stars.

It was in this age that Mandos came to Manwë atop Taniquetil and made it known that his Halls were at last emptied of all souls. Thus Manwë turned to Eru’s plan and saw that the time of Arda Marred was coming to a close and the cycles of the world were near their end.

#The Silmarillion #writing stuff #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfic