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thelordofgifs · 4 months

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Congrats on the milestone! How about Maglor or Maedhros and jewellery, from the worldbuilding prompt list?

Digging up this old prompt for @maedhrosmaglorweek day 3! Have both of them.

"You will jingle as you walk," says Maedhros, "they will hear you coming for miles."

Maglor laughs, and tosses his head so that the dangling silver earrings chime. "A poor minstrel I will make, if my jewellery plays more music than I! No, Nelyo, these will not do." He removes them carefully, and lays them aside in the growing pile of precious metal heaped upon the side-table.

Maedhros, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of his chambers in Himring, watches him with a faint little frown. "You must choose something," he says; "you cannot go to the feast dressed as plainly as a Vanya monk."

"My songbird's voice is adornment enough," Maglor says blithely, "and anyhow I did not come here to pick out my own gems. We must make some progress on deciding what to bring as gifts."

From the chest Maedhros draws out a long string of pearls, meant to be draped three times around the neck for the full effect. A souvenir from a summer Maglor spent in Alqualondë, long before the light of the Trees went out, or indeed before their father took it into his mind to preserve it. Maglor chose the pearls himself, going up and down a hundred beachside stalls to pick out those most perfectly round and white, and had Finrod his cousin teach him how to string them on a thread of silk before presenting them to Maedhros. How lovely they had looked set against his brother's fair skin; they had seemed almost to glow.

"These – these stones," Maedhros says, hesitant, "we could gift them to the envoys of the Sindar, perhaps."

Maglor swallows. "They are pearls, Nelyo," he says, keeping his voice light. Maedhros blinks at him, and he explains, "They come from the sea, from oysters. We used to get them from the Teleri." He pauses, and then, when Maedhros still looks bewildered, adds, "I do not think it good politics to gift them to the kin of those we slaughtered, whether or not they know of it."

Maedhros' face darkens. "You are right – Nolofinwë's host will murmur to see them, besides." He gives the pearls another troubled look and then sets them aside.

No use, Maglor has learned, in dwelling on these missing spaces in his brother's memory. They frustrate Maedhros enough as it is: and it is nothing personal, Maglor knows, that he has forgotten the pearls were a gift from Maglor. Their Enemy has taken from Maedhros things far more precious than the recollection of a trinket. It does not sting, that Maedhros does not remember.

Maedhros has turned his attention back to the chest before him. These are all his personal jewels, salvaged from their father's house in Tirion in the brief hours they had to pack before setting out on their ill-fated march. In the years of his captivity Maglor would indulge himself, sometimes, and open the chest, and admire the treasure within as though he were yet a fanciful child trying on his brother's baubles; and he would tell himself that he would hear Maedhros' laughing voice at the door any moment now, saying, Are you going through my things again, little magpie?

Maedhros does not much like to wear jewellery, these days. He says that it chafes against his skin, and on darker days that it puts him in mind of chains; occasionally he will consent to Maglor pinning back his hair with a bejewelled clip, or to an unobtrusive pair of earrings, but all his fine gold necklaces and ornate jewel-encrusted bracelets are useless now.

"Too few gemstones," he says now with a frown; "they were more marvellous than the metalwork, and would be better received."

Maglor thinks with some regret of a fine set of rubies his father had made him for his two hundredth begetting-day. Like all the house of Fëanor's best jewels, they were locked in the vault at Formenos, and stolen by Morgoth when he ransacked it.

"I know not how things are done in Doriath," he says, "but in any case the Mithrim Sindar are not over-fond of jewels, much like their Falmari kin. I do not think we need worry that our gifts will seem poor to them; in truth they will know not what to do with them. They wear flowers in their hair oftener than gems."

"It may be different in Doriath," Maedhros argues. "Findaráto says of Menegroth that the very walls are studded with jewels. Perhaps a gift of our own best would go some way towards earning Elwë's favour."

Maglor frowns. "Think you he will come himself, then?"

"Perhaps," says Maedhros, "but even if he does not we must not seem to be ungenerous. Many of those in Nolofinwë's host will be searching for any excuse to name us so." He passes his hand over his eyes, looking tired. Maglor only arrived yesterday, but he has his suspicions about how long his brother had gone without sleep before that. "We must choose presents for them too—"

"You gave Nolofinwë a crown," says Maglor; "surely he will be sated with that!"

The jest makes Maedhros laugh, as it would not coming from any of their other brothers, edged as it would be with resentment or mockery. Maglor is awfully, selfishly glad of that.

"Come here," says Maedhros, "you are distracting me. Help me choose what to give our own kin, at least."

Maglor settles on the floor beside him. "This for Findaráto," he says, picking out a necklace of sapphires that Maedhros never much liked in the first place, "it will go well with his eyes."

Maedhros favours him with a smile. "Well chosen," he says. Then he finds a very fine emerald, set into the front of a copper circlet but easily prised free, and examines it thoughtfully. This, Maglor remembers, is a relic of their father's first experiments with the art of capturing light; it does not shine with a light of its own as do the Silmarils, but catches and magnifies all the daylight coming through the window in a most pleasing manner, reflecting them back in every shade of green imaginable. Maedhros sets it aside, and when Maglor casts him a questioning look blushes and says only, "For Finno."

The next piece Maedhros draws out of the chest is a golden bangle, from Fëanor's filigree phase: the metal worked into the shapes of trees and flowers and leaping horses, studded all over with tiny gems in a multitude of colours. Their father was in a good mood, when he made this, Maglor recalls. The precision of the work appealed to him. Perhaps it was that more than the loveliness of the finished product that made Maedhros fond of it.

"You always liked this one," says Maedhros, his eyes warm now with recollection. "The number of times it turned up on your dressing-table, after I had spent hours searching for it! Here." And he slips the bangle onto Maglor's wrist.

Maglor tenses, forces himself to relax, and takes it off again. "I do not want it," he says, "thank you, Nelyo."

Maedhros blinks at him. "I cannot wear it," he says, "not a bangle, it will be – too tight." He shudders briefly and then masters himself. "You might as well take it, and then someone can have use of it."

You do not want him back, Celegorm spat once; all your mourning is performance only. You are quite content to sit here wearing his crown and playing dress-up with his jewels, in truth.

"I do not want it," Maglor says again.

"Káno," Maedhros says, very gently. He tilts Maglor's chin up to examine his face. "What troubles you?"

But how can Maglor tell him, I am not now the child you knew in Valinor, the little magpie who so loved to be adorned? How can he say, I too was sated with a crown? He cannot unburden himself to Maedhros, who so depends on him to be merry and bright and unruffled. He has lost the right to do so.

"It will get in the way," he says, "when I play my harp." Then he summons up a smile and says, cheerfully, "Five cousins yet to choose gifts for, and then you promised you would let me practice my new Sindarin songs after we dine! We had better hurry." And he turns back to the chest before Maedhros can object.

#asks #silmarillion #my fic #maedhros #maglor #echo-bleu #maedhrosmaglorweek #maglor is fine he's fine he's SO FINE ok

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annoyinglandmagazine · 11 months

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The Sons of Feanor aren’t monsters. That would imply that they’re somehow different, that they were either born a certain way or were transformed past the point where they could be recognised as people. That it wasn’t entirely their fault that they were incapable of making the right choices because they were fundamentally evil through no choice of their own.

And I don’t think that that’s true at any point for a single one of them. Because they’ve all seen each other drenched in blood that wasn’t their own, hacking their way through orcs and elves alike and maybe it would be easier even if they could say that they didn’t recognise their brothers, that they had changed and become mindless killing machines, slaves to The Oath. And it wouldn’t fully be a lie. But it wouldn’t be the truth either.

Because they’re still the same people. They talk the same way, they make the same facial expressions, they have the same (though sometimes darker) sense of humour, Celegorm still tackles everyone when he sees them, Maglor still hums under his breath constantly, Maedhros still worries about them, Curufin still fiddles with bits of metal during meetings, Caranthir still likes his hair to be stroked just so and Amrod and Amras still pull faces at each other during meetings to see who’ll crack first. And when they’re killing they’re not different people then either. Because they still mourn, they still weep, they wake up in the middle of the night screaming, they shake and tremble in each other’s arms, and they know they’re monsters but they’re still people.

Sometimes one of them will think back to their childhood. Maedhros always took control of a situation, any argument. The expression of grim determination the lord of Himring later wore was not new, he’d worn it all his life as Prince Nelyafinwe when he’d been keeping all his emotions under wraps to maintain appearances as he witnessed all the most vicious manoeuvrings in court with no qualms.

Maglor’s voice had always been powerful, sometimes it had made things break with the sheer strength of it. Curufin had always been good at getting himself out of trouble and others into it, annoying all his cousins and brothers thoroughly in their youth. When Celegorm hunted he never blanched at the bloody entrails of the creatures he killed. Caranthir had gone into moods where he could be angry enough to try and fight anyone who so much as looked at him. They’d always agreed with all their father said with no hesitation, adored him fully.

All of this comes to mind sometimes when they think of all they’ve done, the familiar expressions, the same techniques and skills used for evil but none of them had been red flags. A red flag would imply that how things had gone was somehow inevitable, that it should have been spotted and predicted. But the thing about that is that it couldn’t have been predicted that they’d do this because they might not have. They could have been good people. None of their attributes had made a single one of them predisposed for the path they’d later taken. They’d always been flawed but they hadn’t ever had any desire to hurt other people, they’d had the potential to be not perfect but still good.

And they don’t lose that potential altogether. Maglor and Maedhros still find traces of it even after everything, damaged from disuse though it may be. They don’t lose who they were entirely, they haven’t fully changed per say, the difference is that now they know what the are capable of doing. They know that they will kill if it is necessary, that they will do anything for their father, for their Oath and they know that they always would have. No matter what good they do they always were and always will be capable of this. But they might have never known that. And that’s the tragic thing about them, they had the potential to be the heroes but were born into precisely the circumstances that would turn them into villains.

#silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #caranthir #celegorm #curufin #maglor #sons of feanor #feanorians #meta #angst #Amrod #amras

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aipilosse · 7 months

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I’d like your opinion if not too much of a bother: Do you think that in actual canon Sauron was somewhat initially sincere in his offer to help the elves improve middle earth? It reads to me like he was only interested in lying to the elves of Eregion for his own personal use, but I can’t get past the idea that it seemed so easy for him to fool them. Fooling men is one thing, but the elves seem to take stock of others much more accurately. The easiest way to deceive is to have some truth mixed in with the lies. There is somewhere that says something to the effect of his repentance might have been sincere initially at one time (though I think it was more because he was scared for himself).

Questions about Sauron are never a bother!!!

Short answer: Yes, I think Sauron was somewhat sincere in his offer to help the elves improve Middle-earth.

Longer answer: Yes, I think Sauron was somewhat sincere in his offer to help the elves improve Middle-earth and I have textual support!

The well known line that you referred to is from Of The Rings of Power and the Third Age in the Silmarillion, and is regarding Sauron abjuring his past deeds to Eönwë:

And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West.

Now, you can (fairly) make the argument that this is no true repentance if he's just doing so because he's scared, and that by the time he approaches the elves circa S.A. 1000, he was back to being 100% bad vibes, evil all day e'er day, bad news bears, etc. but I think his desire to work with the elves to improve the world was genuine.

This is slightly undercut by what comes next:

Seeing the desolation of the world, Sauron said in his heart that the Valar, having overthrown Morgoth, had again forgotten Middle-earth; and his pride grew apace. He looked with hatred on the Eldar, and he feared the Men of Númenor who came back at whiles in their ships to the shores of Middle-earth; but for long he dissembled his mind and concealed the dark designs that he shaped in his heart.

You might say, well there you have it, he has dark designs and hates the elves, case closed pack it up, but WAIT. Now, if you know me, you know I don't hold much truck with most 'biased narrator' bs, but I do think it's worthwhile whenever we are being told about a character's thoughts to consider the framing of the story and how those thoughts could possibly have been known. I think in this case and in others (for instance, Maedhros' thoughts right before he dies) we can assume that whoever is recording the story, whatever their motives, did not actually know what characters like Sauron are thinking.

'But Aipi, you filthy hypocrite,' you say. 'You've argued yourself that the 'single narrator' lens of the Silm that many fans take misconstrues what's going on, since the sources it pulls from have multiple in-text historians and bards or sometimes none at all, and because of that, you can't just chuck out the lines you don't like with no evidence.'

Fair, totally fair, but I have evidence!

The reason I think the "dark designs" bit is color added by a historian who did not actually know Sauron's thoughts at the time he came to the elves is because of On Motives.

If you are a Sauron fan, I highly recommend tracking down a copy of Morgoth's Ring and reading the chapter 'Notes on Motives in the Silmarillion'. I am resisting quoting the whole thing, but importantly we are told:

[Sauron] did not object to the existence of the world, so long as he could do what he liked with it. He still had the relics of positive purposes, that descended from the good of the nature in which he began: it had been his virtue (and therefore also the cause of his fall, and of his relapse) that he loved order and co-ordination, and disliked all confusion and wasteful friction.

On Motives gives us several important facts: Sauron has the relics of positive purpose, he has the virtue of loving order and coordination, he fell and then again relapsed (which means he must have achieved some sort of not-evil state inbetween the fall and the relapse!).

We also get this wonderful line comparing Sauron and Saruman:

Sauron's love (originally) or (later) mere understanding of other individual intelligences was correspondingly weaker.

And there are other references to Sauron being capable of admiring minds outside of his own in On Motives. To me, all this points to Sauron not only coming to the elves with genuine aspirations to help, but also that at this point perhaps 'hatred of the Eldar' is a wee bit overblown.

The idea that Sauron falls, starts to walk a better path, and falls again is a key motif in the history of Middle-earth. It echoes Morgoth's arc, and then is replicated in miniature in a way in Gollum. He has some genuinely good intentions, but these are warped by his desire for control and the corrupting nature of power.

There's even more bits on Sauron and his fair motives in Tolkien's letters, but I think I'll wrap with this quote (another fave):

But at the beginning of the Second Age he was still beautiful to look at, or could still assume a beautiful visible shape – and was not indeed wholly evil, not unless all 'reformers' who want to hurry up with 'reconstruction' and 'reorganization' are wholly evil, even before pride and the lust to exert their will eat them up.

Perhaps Sauron was always doomed to fall again because of his need to control, but I think the elves of Eregion recognized a genuine kindred motive in him.

#Sauron #Mairon #meta #I could go on #but this is already too long!#all credit to Gaia for the thoughts on Maedhros

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zealouswerewolfcollector · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @welcomingdisaster, @polutrope, @cuarthol and @melestasflight. Thank you all so much <333

Sharing a very recently written passage from a kinkmeme fill I might never finish.

“What happened to your resolution to never marry?” Fingon asked in righteous, desperate anger. “When I opened my heart before you, you told me you your feelings were only of friendship and kinship. You said you were loath to touch another as a spouse and would never suffer someone’s touch.” That ship has sailed, Maedhros thought, but he couldn’t tell that to Fingon. Couldn’t give him an opening to find another argument to use against Maedhros’s decision, to give him a chance to claim that Maedhros wasn’t in his right mind after his ordeal in Angband. His brothers had done plenty of that. “Is that what made you so wroth?” he asked instead with a condescending smile he knew would infuriate Fingon. “Jealousy? Can you not bear the thought that I chose your father over you?” “You know well that is not what troubles me! My father is already married! He cannot take a second spouse. He cannot dishonor my mother so.” “If Grandfather agreed with that, neither you, nor your father would be here now.” “My mother is not dead!” “She might as well be.” Maedhros knew Fingon wouldn’t hit someone who could barely walk, but he came very close to it. Then he closed his eyes, took a few breaths, unclenched his fists and dropped down on his chair. Fingon had no choice. He had to accept it or leave the lands the Noldor had claimed. But he would never do it. He would never abandon his people, no matter how much he despised Maedhros or Fingolfin. Maedhros waited patiently for Fingon to come to that conclusion. Finally, Fingon opened his eyes, face hardened, decision made. For a moment, he looked so much like his father. “I will follow you and obey you as my kings,” he said. “But I will never forgive you.”

Tagging @amethysttribble, @grey-gazania, @thescrapwitch, @sallysavestheday, @ettelene

#silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #tag game #past abuse between the lines

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elficially-done-with-life · 8 months

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A Hug To Make You Whole Again

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Summary: Maedhros confesses his love to you but doesn't expect you to return the feeling.

Warnings: A bit of self doubt, but apart from that it's more on the fluffy side

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Maedhros was more than nervous when he found himself in front of your door, as he had planned to confess his feelings to you that day.

The weight of his emotions weighted heavily on his shoulders, and his heart pounded loudly in his chest. For a long time now, he had harbored this love for you, but insecurity had held him back from expressing it.

Maedhros knew he had done a lot of things wrong which was why he knew that he was unworthy of your affection.

And not only that. He wasn't the most beautiful elf either. Not with all his scars and his missing hand. He wasn't good enough for someone like you.

But over time he had realized that he couldn't deny his feelings any longer. He believed that you deserved to know the truth, to understand his emotions toward you. With a deep breath, he finally found the courage to knock softly on your door, his hand trembling slightly.

When you opened the door, Maedhros was struck once again by your undeniable beauty.

He couldn't really understand how you couldn't see you the way he did. You once told him that you thought of yourself as rather plain. But Maedhros thought of you as more than stunning. Your eyes, so kind and gentle, seemed to sparkle light. And when you smiled, it was as if the world around him faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

"I wanted to tell you something," Maedhros finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. He lowered his gaze a little. Being around you had always made him feel shy, but in a way that he secretly enjoyed. It reminded him of the simpler days, when everything felt easier. And only you could make him feel that way.

You smiled at him, as you often did. He was happy about that as every smile of you made his day a little brighter. It was a smile that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, making Maedhros feel special.

"You know you can tell me everything," you replied softly, your fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He had observed that you often did that when you where nervous of excited and found it endearing.

Taking a deep breath, Maedhros continued, wanting to express himself fully. "First of all, I want you to know that I'm telling you this without expecting anything in return. I don't want you to feel pressured or obligated to respond a certain way. If you do not want to talk about it afterwards or if you feel a differently way about this, than that is completely okay. All I want is for you to be happy," he explained, his voice sounding very serious.

Maedhros hesitated, his hand hovering in the air, wanting to reach out and touch yours. But he held himself back, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or make you uncomfortable.

To his surprise, you reached for his hand instead, as if you had felt that he wasn't so sure about himself at the moment. As if you could look right through him.

He looked up, because he wanted to look you in the eyes while saying it. "I love you." His voice was really soft while he said that, "I only wanted you to know that. I know you do not have the same feelings for me, but- "

"Who said I do not have the same feelings for you?" You interrupted him and then your cheeks got a little pink. Maedhros smiled a little at that. You were really cute.

It took a while until he had fully realized what you had just said. He knew that there had been a possibility for you to feel the same but he had been sure that that would most likely not happen.

He opened his mouth, without really being sure about what he wanted to say next, but luckily you were faster than him and said, really quietly, "Because I do feel the same."

Then it was quiet between the two of you for a short while. But you never let go of his hand.

"Can I hug you?" You asked softly into the silence and Maedhros felt his heart turn soft.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, as he welcomed your embrace.

As you gently wrapped your arms around his middle. He liked the feeling of warmth that your body brought as it pressed against his. He couldn't help but notice the stark contrast in size between the two of you. It was as if you were made to fit perfectly into his embrace, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Maedhros slowly returned the hug, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you closer. He was still mostly in shock that you would really return his feelings.

As he held you close, Maedhros closed his eyes, savoring the tranquility that enveloped him. It was a feeling he had long forgotten, lost amidst the chaos and turmoil of his past. But now, in your arms, he rediscovered a sense of peace and contentment that he had yearned for but thought that he had forever lost it.

#maedhros x reader #maedhros #maitimo #tolkien #tolkien x reader #x reader #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion

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animatorweirdo · 3 months

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When the dragons fly(book 2)

Three years have now passed. Your dear little brother had nearly learned everything, and you still wonder about your elven friend's true identity. But then, you see a troubling dream that reminds you of a certain fortune teller's prediction.

[] = High Valyrian

Chapter 13

Warnings: mentions of wars, coming battles, infections, injured throats, muteness, getting hit, Aelon getting struck hard, suspicions, nightmares, fire, burning, getting killed, and troubling predictions.

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

Three years have passed.

Galloping through the forest, Maedhros returned to the village with Aelon riding right behind him. The young teen rode upon a black and white horse borrowed from the village's stablemaster for his riding lessons, having grown tall enough to handle the reins and the stirrups on his own.

"That was good, but you still leave yourself behind," Maedhros said as they came to a trot.

"Learn to speed it up a bit. That way, you don't end up being left behind or get caught by your pursuers," he added.

Aelon shook his head. "Maybe you're just going too fast for me. How do you expect me to catch up with you when you ride faster than the wind?" he asked, making Maedhros chuckle.

"Well, you need to learn how to ride as fast as the wind. You won't get anywhere if I continue going easy on you," Maedhros replied as they arrived at your house.

In a small training field that you had set up for Eweniel and Ramuel, who also wanted to learn how to shoot with a bow, you stood behind them as they aimed at the targets.

"And shoot,"

The two released their arrows. Ramuel's arrow hit a few rings beneath the dot, but Eweniel struck bullseye with hers.

"Nice!" Eweniel grinned as it was her third time in a row hitting the center of the target. "Well done, Ewe. You're exceptionally talented at this," you praised, then glanced down at Ramuel. "Ramuel, aim a bit higher. The arrow will fly farther and won't fall to the ground at the last minute," you instructed.

"Okay..." Ramuel said quietly. "Don't overthink it. It's only been a week since you started learning. You have time to master this," you reassured him, then noticed Maedhros and Aelon returning from their ride.

"This will be all for today," you said.

"When will I get to learn how to wield a sword?" Eweniel asked as she and Ramuel went to pick up their arrows. "Once your parents get comfortable with the idea. Be happy that they allowed you to learn archery," you answered.

"But I'm already so good shooting with the bow. You said it yourself," Eweniel said. "I did, but I can't go against your parent's wishes," you replied, making her groan. "Be patient. I'm certain they will eventually let you train with the sword soon enough," you tried to assure her. "But even Aelon has a real sword now. It will take ages before my parents will finally let me hold a sword," Eweniel pointed at the sword attached to Aelon's hip, a gift from Maedhros after learning all he could from him.

"Oh, don't be like that. You still have time," Aelon said while petting his horse.

You chuckled as Maedhros walked up to you, and Aelon left to return his horse to the stablemaster. Eweniel and Ramuel also left after cleaning up.

"They have become more energetic. I wonder how long it will take before Eweniel decides to train herself to catch up with Aelon," you mused.

"Well, they can become more rebellious at this age, so it's not impossible," Maedhros remarked, then observed your village as people were busier than usual.

"There seems to be more unrest than usual," Maedhros stated.

"Yes... it's about an upcoming battle. Some houses from other villages and people have been called to join a cause to fight Morgoth, or so I heard," you explained. "It was apparently some elven lord from the Noldor who made such a call," you added.

"And what do you think about it?" Maedhros asked. "It's a bit sudden, to be honest," you answered. "Morgoth and the Noldor had been quiet since the war of the sudden flames. To suddenly call to arms to fight after hearing someone steal a silmaril from Morgoth is a bit unexpected," you explained.

"I certainly hope the lord behind this knows what he is doing and has enough knowledge to pull this off," you stated.

"You do not think he might not be able to pull this off?" Maedhros asked.

"If he manages to rally all the people of Beleriand to fight for his cause, then maybe he has a good chance. I don't know much about Morgoth and his stronghold in the north, but I do know that his power is great, and he might be hiding a few tricks up his sleeve," you said, looking at him. "Who knows what he has been doing inside his fortress for all these years," you added. "So rallying an attack like this, caution should be the best course of action."

"My father always told me that the worst enemy is the one you know less about," you stated.

"You're... not wrong, but I think Morgoth will fail this time," Maedhros said, quietly contemplating your words.

You observed him from the corner of your eye. He was quiet and seemingly lost in thought.

"Anyway... Nelyo," you said, gaining his attention. "There is going to be a celebration feast soon. We had a good harvest year, and because of the upcoming battle, we decided to hold it early. If you have time, would you be willing to join us?" you asked with a hopeful tone.

"I... I'll see what I can do," Maedhros answered. "Sorry, but I must get going now," he said, then left.

You watched as he climbed back on his horse and rode out of the village. Your mind was bothered by his strange behavior. He had started visiting less and seemed more restless than ever. You were also still wondering about his real identity. He has opened up a bit to you for the past years, but there was still so much mystery around him.

"Hey, is something wrong? Did Nelyo already leave?" Aelon asked after returning from his walk to the stablemaster.

"Nothing. Let's take a hike in the mountains. We need to check on the food storage and the younglings," you said and then walked into your house, trying to brush off the suspicions you had about your elven friend.

At the mountains, Baleria was outside, feasting upon a deer she had caught for herself. Aegar and Viserya were eyeing her prey, even daring to sneak closer to try to have a bite, but the older dragon growled them away, slightly annoyed by their presence and constant attempt to steal her prey.

You were standing in front of Smoke with Samuel, trying to teach the young dragon to breathe fire upon the dead rabbit on the ground.

"[Dracarys]," You said as Smoke only croaked at you, confused by the word and why you would not allow him to eat the rabbit.

"[Dracarys]," you said again.

Smoke only crouched down, attempting to lean his head forward enough to snatch the rabbit. "Smoke..." you looked at him with a warning tone. His ears flattened against his head, and he stared at you with pleading eyes. "Don't even try it," you said sternly, causing him to hiss and pull back.

"You get to eat the rabbit. If you do the thing," you gently explained.

"[Dracarys]," you said with a commanding tone.

Smoke stared intently at the rabbit. Black smoke started to billow out of his nostrils, and his chest began to steam as he took in deep breaths, preparing to release his breath.

You and Samuel watched as Smoke released a puff of smoke, then released a blast of scorching hot air onto the rabbit, burning off the fur and steaming the meat until it was piping hot.

Samuel clapped his hands with an excited smile as you finally allowed Smoke to eat the steaming rabbit.

"He will finally be able to feed for himself from now on," you stated as Smoke swallowed the rabbit in one bite.

“How long will it take for them to breathe real fire?” Samuel asked while petting Smoke.

“Dragons should be able to breathe fire when they’re three months old, but since it took this long for those three to even learn how to produce hot air. There is a possibility that it will take many more years for them to learn, or they may never learn at all. I wonder if this is why they were abandoned in that nest,” you said thoughtfully.

Smoke then tried to chirp, but it came out as a mix of groans and croaks, which was not a natural sound from a dragon.

“Oh, Smoke,” Samuel said as the dragon looked embarrassed by the sound he produced.

“(Name). Is there truly no medicine that could help Smoke to get his voice back?” Samuel questioned while comforting the dragon. “He sounds worse each day. At this rate, he is going to sound like a lizard toad,” he added.

“I’m afraid so. That infection Smoke suffered last year left a nasty injury to his vocal cords,” you replied with a pitying look since it meant the young dragon would be unable to vocalize for the rest of his life. “I don’t think he would even be able to find himself a mate with that voice,” you added.

“Well, he doesn’t have to worry about finding a mate. He could stay with me so he wouldn’t be lonely,” Samuel smiled. You smiled in return, touched by the idea.

The sounds of beating wings reached your ears, and then you saw Aelon flying with Falconer, riding upon the saddle you finished making last year. Falconer landed on the side of the cliff, roaring like a falcon as the metal straps on his chest jiggled. You carefully observed the straps of the saddle. Since Falconer had grown larger than a house over the years, there were some adjustments you needed to finish on the saddle, but so far, everything seemed to be working just fine.

"How is the saddle for you?" you called out to Aelon as he was still on Falconer's back. "It's great! It works pretty well! But some of the straps are making funny noises, and the saddle might be a bit loose," Aelon explained, moving around on his new saddle.

"You get used to it in time. Maybe we only need to tighten up the girth," you said. "Well, whatever it is. I think I'm gonna go on another fly around the mountains if that's okay with you?" Aelon asked.

"Go for it! Just stay out of sight!" you replied.

Aelon grinned. "I will... [Fly Falconer]!" Falconer pushed down his wings, shrieking as he flew into the sky, away from the cave.

You smiled briefly before your attention was drawn by distant thundering. Turning northward, you saw a black storm lingering above the Thangorodrim and the Iron Mountains. It was a concerning sight, accompanied by the distant sound of lightning. The increased wind only added to your unease, leaving you contemplating the implications of the upcoming battle.

A black storm was usually a bad omen. While a thunderstorm might have presented an opportunity for attack under normal circumstances, but there was something ominous about this storm. You do not know why, but it felt like this storm had a will of its own or was following the will of another.

Giggling then reached your ears, and you saw Samuel playing with Smoke. The sight warmed your heart as the two have bonded over the years. You had allowed Samuel to be a caretaker for the hatchlings, and the hatchlings had grown well under his care. They had grown larger than hunting dogs, which made it impossible to keep them in the house anymore, so they now lived in the mountains with Baleria and Falconer.

"Hey, (Name). Could Smoke grow big as Baleria one day?" Samuel asked as the young dragon basked in the attention he was receiving.

“Well, that one is possible,” you then grinned. “Why? Are you hoping you could ride Smoke one day?" you asked.

"Maybe..." Samuel looked away, embarrassed.

"Well, we just have to wait and see once Smoke has grown bigger," you smiled.

"Now, come on. We need to tidy things up. It looks like it might rain soon," you stated. Samuel picked himself up and assisted you in cleaning up the stable. Together, you waited for Aelon to return from his flight, and then all three of you returned to the village.

After returning to the village, you and Aelon decided to have a quick training session with long sticks as you had started teaching him handling spears and long point end weapons. He had long learned how to handle a sword and two blades, the latter having been more challenging for him to learn. However, handling a spear seemed to come naturally to him.

"Alright, let's recall what we learned from our previous session," you said as Aelon was spinning the stick in his hand.

"(Name), you seem a bit restless. Is everything alright?" Aelon questioned.

"Everything is fine. Let's just focus on the session," you replied.

"It just seems like you're forcing yourself to be busy and all," Aelon prepared himself, holding the stick in a defensive position.

"Just some minor things. Now focus, and show me what you have learned," you ordered, and then Aelon attacked, trying to poke you with the top of the stick. You stepped back, blocking his attempts. He then tried to strike you from the side and even went for your face. You quickly moved your head to the side, avoiding the stick and then grabbing it. With a swift motion, you struck your training sword against his stomach, causing him to groan and step back.

"That was good, but you need to be quicker than that," you stated as Aelon charged again.

As you blocked Aelon's attempts to hit you, your mind was troubled by the impending battle and Maedhros's peculiar behavior. He started acting oddly ever since the day when Helena shared the news about the elven princess and the stolen silmaril. And he even acted odd today when you two talked about the incoming battle and the possibilities of pulling it off. It's like he is somewhat involved with it.

Even though he had opened up to you more about himself, being the eldest of his brothers and doing important work for his people, which he did not really clarify, like what kind of work. You still knew very little. You knew he was part of the Noldor, but there were still some things he had not shared. You had tried not to inquire too much about his life out of respect, but now, you wanted answers to your nagging suspicions.

Deep in your thoughts, you failed to block one of Aelon's attacks.

Aelon managed to hit you hard on the rib, making you snap back to reality and strike back in a reflex.

You struck Aelon's weapon away before striking him in the legs, making him yelp and fall on his back with a harsh thud.

Your mind finally realized what you did when you heard Aelon groan and saw him lying on the ground.

"Ah... Aelon! I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?!" you dropped your training sword and crouched down to him in worry.

"Ow! I didn't know you could hit him that hard," Aelon sat up before looking at you. "You drifted off. I actually managed to hit you," he stated with a confused tone.

"Yes... I did. My mind was elsewhere," you looked away in embarrassment.

"Okay, (Name)! Sit down!" Aelon gently pulled you down, making you sit against the ground before looking at you deep in the eye.

"What is going on with you? You should always keep a sharp focus during a fight," he questioned, then waited for your answer.

You exhaled, relaxing your shoulders, deciding to tell what had been weighing on your mind.

"You're right..." You started. "It's about Nelyo. I... think he's not telling us everything," you added.

Aelon stared at you curiously. "What do you mean? He's been our friend for three years now?" he questioned.

"I know, I know, but— like he doesn't know about our dragons. We don't know much about him," you explained. "We know he lives among the Noldor, but we do not know exactly where. We know he has brothers, but we do not know their names or the names of his parents, and we know that he does important work, which makes him quite busy, but he hasn't told us what kind of work it is," you listed while Aelon listened, nodding his head as he began to think about it himself.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" you asked.

"Yeah. Now that you told me," Aelon nodded with a questioning look, thinking the same as you.

"And upon our second meeting. I noticed how Nelyo seemed hesitant to tell us his name, so there might be a chance Nelyo might not be his real name," you stated. "Or it could be since the elves could have more than one name, but it's a name we wouldn't recognize him as," you quickly explained.

"Okay... but why would he hide things from us?" Aelon asked.

"Perhaps for the same reason as how we keep our dragons a secret," you answered thoughtfully.

"For all we know, he could be an elven lord or even a prince," you said.

"What makes you think he could be a prince?" Aelon asked.

"Quite a lot of things, actually. Usually, those from a noble ground go on hunts in a large hunting party. And the way he talks and holds himself, and let’s not forget that he also gave you a generous gift, which would have been expensive for us, which means he’s quite wealthy," you listened and mentioned Aelon's sword, which he had named Dragon Tooth.

"That makes sense..." Aelon nodded to himself before turning his gaze on you. "We need to ask Nelyo if he is a prince or something!" he stated.

"Well, we just have to wait for his next visit. Now, let's get back to the session. We're losing precious sunlight," you stood up. Aelon whined before standing up to continue the sparring lesson with you.

Smoke surrounded you, blurring your vision, and heavy coughs escaped as you unintentionally inhaled it. Quickly crouching down, you covered your face and mouth with your arm, trying to see through the haze.

Confusion overwhelmed you as you surveyed the smoke-filled house. Why was it smoking all of a sudden? Was there a fire?

Your ears then heard something heavy breaking above you. Looking up, you were startled to see a burning wooden beam falling toward you. Reacting quickly, you dropped back as the beam crashed before you, scattering embers everywhere. Instinctively, you covered yourself to avoid getting hit in the eyes, then realized with horror that it was your house that was burning around you.

"Aelon!" you called out but couldn't hear anything except the burning wood around you.

"Over here!" you heard Aelon call out from the outside.

Dashing quickly toward the doorway, you made it outside just in time before your house collapsed, burning in flames.

You coughed out the smoke from your lungs, then paled when you witnessed the chaos around you.

The whole village was on fire. All the people were screaming as they were getting chased and killed by the orcs.

"Mom! Dad!" you heard Eweniel cry out, and saw her house collapse in flames. The young girl stood outside, sobbing as she watched her home burn. Her parents were nowhere in sight, leading you to fear they were trapped inside the burning house.

You then heard a woman's scream and saw the twins' mother holding Samuel in her arms, crying as there was a black arrow sticking out of his chest. Her husband and Ramuel were tugging her to run away with them.

"(Name)! Don't just stand there! Run!" Helena yelled before she was then attacked and mauled by a warg.

You were horrified by the sight and found yourself unable to move.

A loud, ear-piercing roar ripped through the sky. You winced in pain before seeing the peaks of Thangorodrim and a large shadow standing over them.

It was massive, and when it spread its wings, you beheld an enormous black dragon towering over the mountains. Its eyes gleamed red as blood, and its chest glowed with the intensity that it looked like it was leaking lava.

The dragon laid its red eyes upon you, and before you even knew it, the beast unleashed a torrent of fire upon you and the world around you.

You yelled in fright as you woke up on your bed. You felt your heart pound against your chest, and you subconsciously started checking yourself for burns.

You then heard something running behind your walls before someone opened the door to your room.

"(Name)! I heard you scream. Is everything alright?" Aelon asked worriedly, standing at the door. You breathed in and calmed yourself. "I'm alright," you sighed, then looked at him with a questioning frown. "But why are you up so late?" you asked.

"I had a bad dream. I couldn't sleep after that, so I went to get some water," Aelon explained.

“It was awful. Everything was on fire," Aelon said.

You looked at him as he started describing his dream.

"Our house and the whole village were on fire. Eweniel was standing alone in front of her house as it burned down. Someone had shot Samuel, and then I saw the mountains," he described, making your eyes widen.

"The three big ones, the I saw an enormous.." Aelon continued.

"Dragon," you finished for him. Aelon looked at you as you rubbed your brows. "I saw it too..." you uttered.

"What could it possibly mean?" Aelon asked.

"Hopefully, nothing," you answered.

"But I've seen a prophetic dream before. The one before Amdirvelui kidnapped me, remember?" Aelon sat at the edge of your bed.

"What if this is a prophetic dream too since we both saw it?" he asked, making you think of the possibility.

"If it is, then we might face something terrible in the future," you said. "But let's not think about it. We can never be sure," you added with an apprehensive tone.

"I once saw Falconer appear in my dream, trying to rescue me. And he did come when I was being kidnapped," Aelon said. "This dream felt too real just to be a dream," he stated.

You remained quiet. The dream felt too real for you as well. Your mind was still bothered by the sight of the smoke, fire, and death. They reminded you too much of your time as a commander and the things you did.

You released a deep sigh.

"Try to go back to sleep. Let's think about it tomorrow," you laid back on your bed.

"Okay..." Aelon uttered, stepping away from your bed. "Goodnight," he said as he walked out of your room. "Goodnight," you mumbled as he closed the door, and you heard him return to his room.

Your mind returned to the dream, replaying the horrid scenario again and again.

You didn't want to think about it, but you had an awful feeling that the dream might be linked to the upcoming battle against Morgoth, especially if it was the aftermath and Morgoth freed his terror all over the world. The scenario would fit all too well.

Then, The woman's prediction came to mind—the one where all the birds flee forever south, and the blue banner of the king is set ablaze.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, pushing the troubling thoughts away and attempting to find sleep before sunrise.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #when the dragons fly #hotd x reader #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #various x reader #targaryen reader #silmarillion x targaryen reader #maedhros x reader

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pearlescentpearl · 1 year

Text

Rebirthed!Maedhros AU

The previous post was getting long enough to be cumbersome, so we’re starting fresh.

Presenting; Part 8! Utúlië lómë

Findekáno’s funeral is a tense, shellshocked affair

Naturally, the entire family attends. Ruining all previous efforts to evacuate them

Maitimo cannot look his aunt and uncle in the eye; it was his idea to run back to Tirion

It’s alright if they blame him. He blames himself too

Fëanáro furiously checks and rechecks the stained glass windows, looking for proof they were tampered with

After the fifth time, Ñolofinwë takes a hammer to the broken window until not one shard of glass remains in it

Anairë takes a bigger hammer to each and every stone in the receiving hall touched by her son’s blood until only rubble remained, forcing Finwë to order new flooring

The sight of Findekáno bristling and bloody from glass shards is one that will haunt them all for a long, long time

Maitimo drifts about as one hollowed out, thoughts and emotions trickling out of him like sand through cracks. He, Angaráto, and Aikanáro attempt to find some solace in each other’s company, but in truth Findekáno was their strongest bridge, without whom a chasm seems to gape between them

He wanders Tirion instead, unable to bear company, not knowing what he’s looking for

(That is a lie, he knows exactly what he’s looking for)

He admits it’s a lie when he finds Melkor in the smithy district and the drought-stricken, hollow places in himself flood with rage. Such wrath as he has never known, he snatches up a finished knife from a smith’s stall and attempts to drive it through Melkor’s heart right then and there

The confrontation is unspeakably public

It takes three people to restrain him

News gets back to Manwë

A trial is called at Máhanaxar

It is every nightmare Maitimo knew it would be

He accuses Melkor of seven murders; he has no proof to back it up

Melkor speaks, and it is lies and ruin. He tells of how Maitimo is one of his former victims, freshly remembered, and confused by the horrors of the past.

“How ashamed I am for the pain I have caused him!” Melkor declares before all. “I’ve done what I could to help him reconcile the past with the present but-- oh, but pain is never reasonable. After several accidents befell his loved ones it must have touched too close to my shameful past actions; he blamed me to explain his pain.”

“Do not blame him, brother,” Melkor entreats. “He is hurting. He needs help, compassion, understanding.”

Nienna rises, moved by this plea, and joins her voice to his

It’s the final nail

Manwë rises and makes his judgement known; “To act from pain is understandable. But to deliberately cause more pain by your actions is not acceptable. If time and healing is what it will take to mend this; hereby do I declare Maitimo Nelyafinwë Fëanárion is exiled to Lórien, to abide under Estë and Irmo’s care, for the next ten years--”

The uproar in the House of Finwë is beyond outrage

“--may he find the peace of mind he requires to live joyfully once more,” Manwë finishes

The hollowing shock settles in again. It’s over. It’s really over. He’s ruined their chances of exposing Melkor. Whatever he says now, whatever his family says, it will always be tainted by this day. The uphill climb has become a mountain, an encircling Pelóri trapping them within

This is his fault

Again

“--fine then! Fine!” His father is shouting somewhere behind him. “If my son is to be exiled, then so shall I be as well!”

“Fëanáro!” Finwë exclaims. “Lower your voice!”

“I will not!”

No. No, no no no

Hasn’t his family suffered enough from his actions?

Maitimo turns and pushes his way out of the crowd surrounding the Ring of Doom; his family, many of his friends, a number of quietly observing Vanyar. Many familiar faces try to greet him, but he cannot bring himself to speak

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Give him some air, people!” Ñolofinwë shoos them away, firmly steering Maitimo out into the open field around the great thrones of the Aratar

Maitimo lets himself be led

He owes his uncle this

He got his son killed

“Well,” Ñolofinwë says. “Well--” he cuts himself off, face spasming

“I’m sorry,” Maitimo says, miserable

“For what?” Ñolofinwë asks, voice tight

“Everything,” Maitimo says. “Running headlong into a trap. Losing my temper in public. Discrediting our entire family in front of the absolute last person I should have. Take your pick, I have many things to be sorry for.”

“Nelyafinwë,” Ñolofinwë says, hand tightening on his shoulder, “the only reason you are on trial for attacking Melkor is because I failed to get to him first. The only reason.”

His head snaps up at that

“If I am mad at you,” Ñolofinwë continues, “it is mostly because I am jealous. I should not be. I wouldn’t have fared any better than you. But still--”

“Still.” Maitimo nods

Ñolofinwë claps him on the shoulder, mouth tight, gaze on the horizon, and. Maitimo supposes it’s forgiveness of a sort

It’s good enough

“There you are!” Nerdanel cries, crashing into his side, clinging to him in hard hug

Makalaurë hits his back with his own hug, only letting go to elbow Curufinwë in the gut so Ambarussa can get there first. It feels good to be surrounded by his family’s smothering affection, shores up some of his crumbling foundation

“Father’s not really exiling himself, is he?” Maitimo asks his mother, face buried in Tyelkormo’s shoulder

“We all are,” Nerdanel hisses furiously. “This is outrageous!”

“Not to Lórien though,” Carnistir says. “We need a place we can fortify.”

“We’ve got some ideas,” Tyelkormo adds. “Don’t worry about us. We can handle this.”

“Who all is going with?” Ñolofinwë asks wearily, looking awkward and alone outside their huddle

“Just our House,” Nerdanel says. “Fëanáro’s insistence. Too many other people need Finwë for him to leave, you and your family chief among them. Unless you want to come with?”

Ñolofinwë snaps around to look at her. “Fëanáro is letting me have father?”

“He’s not heartless, law-brother,” Nerdanel says, stepping away to hold out her hand. “He doesn’t hold you so far away he can’t be moved to pity by your grief.”

“I-- alright.” Ñolofinwë grabs her hand, squeezes briefly, lets go to bury his face in his hands, turning away, shoulders shaking. “I might... might join you later. Not now, but. Later. Later.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

The trip to Lórien is the quietest and unhappiest yet

But not the most hopeless

Not quite

#silmarillion #bulletpoint fic #maedhros #lots of characters #melkor being his lying gaslighting self :D

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lendmyboyfriendahand · 7 months

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My concept of Fingon is that he's very motivated by justice, specifically in a sense of making things fair and balanced after they have been unfair. Ideally with full restitution for the loss.

This is normally a good thing - Men who risk their lives in battle for his family are rewarded with titles and land and cool helmets; Morgoth should be killed for wrecking the peace of Valinor and killing Finwe; Maedhros should be allowed to recover in safety after Thangorodrim.

Sometimes it leads to him demanding recompense, like after crossing the Helcaraze when he asked what the host of Feanor would do to make up for their hardship. The Feanorians gave up the crown and a herd of horses and although it wasn't perfectly fair, it was a step towards fairness. Fingon doesn't like it, but with time he has learned to live with it. He's one of the victims in this case, so permitting injustice to be done to himself is actually easier in a sense; the wronged have the right to revenge and healing, but no one can force you to use your rights.

When it gets tricky though is when restitution is impossible, and even partial recompense in unlikely. Such as after Alqualonde, when the Teleri are now on the opposite side of the Sea. It itches at Fingon that he can't go and make it right; that even if he went and gave them all he had and worked for centuries he couldn't make up for it. It bothers Fingon even more that he's not even going to try, that he's just going to sit here and wait, focus on the issues in front of him and not to anything about the horrible wrong he's committed.

It would be so much easier to think of it as not wrong at all. Then he could rest easily. After all, Fingon owes Maedhros nothing for cutting off his hand, as it was necessary in order to save his life. If stealing the ships and killing elves was necessary to save Beleriand from Morgoth, might it be justified? And then Fingon would not have committed a crime that he is unable to fix, he would just have harmed people due to unavoidable circumstances. The war against Morgoth has given him a lot of practice at dealing with unavoidable circumstances where every path leads to harm, whether caused by himself or others, and he knows that it doesn't make him evil.

Fingon has to watch himself carefully not to grant forgiveness or permission for the First Kinslaying, either to himself or to his cousins. So every morning he recites a list of wrongs that he cannot make right, but that should not be accepted or forgotten.

#my writing #musings and headcanons with 0 citations #silm #fingon #my headcanons #Fingon can have an unhealthy coping mechanism. as a treat #it's better than just giving up entirely on the idea of ''justice'' or ''deserving'' because that's what he built all his ethics on

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lovefairymina · 5 months

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To say, Maedhros's family wasn't troubled would be a huge understatement. After he found you ambushed by the orcs and technically took you in after you healed from your injuries, you stuck around and observed how things fell down on him because of his oath.

Things were really not easy for him. He lost his brothers in the previous attempts to reclaim the silmarils and the oath only seemed to push him deeper and deeper into the darkness that was slowly corroding his mind.

He had less control over his temper, he was more rude and he even started fighting his surviving brother more. You sometimes thought maybe you should try to urge him to give up the oath, but after observing him for some time, you deemed it pointless. Not to mention you did not want to make him pissed at you.

But after witnessing one bad fight between him and his brother, you decided to confront him and do something about his gloomy situation.

You walked into his presence. He was drinking in silence, not acknowledging anything. You knew how to calm down his anger in a way that it subsided before you finally popped the question.

"Would reclaiming one of the silmarils ease your mind?" you asked.

"Hm?" Maedhros frowned at you.

"I'm asking would reclaiming one of the silmarils ease the heaviness of your oath. I know you all swore to reclaim them all, but taken the situation in the world. Would at least one silmaril ease your mind?" you explained.

Maedhros was silent for a moment. "...yes," he uttered silently and it was all you needed to hear.

"I'm gonna be back in two days. Don't do anything rash," you get up and leave the room. Maedhros looked after you with evident confusion before returning into the silence of his thoughts.

After the two days passed, you returned. You walked into the study where he was working and eating as he had made it into a habit to isolate himself. You set an object in front of him, wrapped in cloth. Confused, yet not questioning your antics, Maedhros unwrapped the object, only to meet with a silmaril and its familiar light.

He looked at you with shock. "I snuck into the camp of the host of the valar and stole it. I didn't deem it safe to take both since it could bring the whole host after me," you explained. "This might not seem a lot taken I'm just a human, but you have honestly treated me more decently than most people I have met. I've done some terrible things. I have killed people in the past just to survive, so I haven't done a lot of right things. If I could do one right thing and help you, then this is the least I could do for you." you pointed at the silmaril.

"At least for now, you do not have to fight your brother so much or worry about having a silmaril in your hands. Believe it or not, I've grown to care for you and it would kill me to see you suffer this much because of your oath, " you said as you waited for his reaction.

He stood before you in astonishment. His quill dropped against the desk and the metal rang in your ear. The study was silent, the air was tense and yet still, the weight on his had not been removed. “The oath is my responsibility, and yet, you risked your life for my family's prized possession. I am forever in your debt,” he choked, chest tight from the anticipation and eyes burning from the desire to pry his prize out your hand.

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {maedhros}#maedhros #maedhros imagine #maedhros x you #maedhros x y/n #house of feanor #nelyafinwë #maitimo #silm imagines #middle earth imagine

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echo-bleu · 6 months

Text

Noldor Hair Headcanons (3/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Some lighter Kidnap Fam content, after the downhill freefall that was the last chapter. With a dash of Finrod in Valinor.

Elrond and Elros have never had their hair braided when they end up with Maedhros and Maglor.

They don’t realize what they’re asking when Elros grabs a hairbrush and puts it in Maglor’s hand.

Maglor understands that, but decides that the twins need parental care, even though he has no right. He brushes their hair and leaves it loose at first.

But the twins have watched Maglor braid Maedhros’s hair and they soon start asking for more interesting hairstyles.

Eventually Maglor explains to them that it can only be done by family.

The twins have a whole silent conversation.

“What does it take to be family?” Elros asks eventually.

Well, braiding an unrelated child’s hair is pretty close to informal adoption.

Elros forces the brush into Maglor’s hand again.

Maglor stares.

Elrond shakes his head and runs out.

Of course, Elrond must hate them. He has every right. Sure, Elros has started to warm up to them, but that’s just because he’s affection-starved, probably. They’re still kidnappers.

Maglor is about to put down the brush and try to refuse when Elrond comes back.

He’s holding a second hairbrush.

He hands it to Maedhros expectantly.

Maedhros cries.

Maglor cries.

The twins’ hair really doesn’t hold braids very well, and they’re still kids who run around and play, but damn them if Maglor and Maedhros aren’t going to do their best.

Now all of their people can see that the twins are well-loved.

Maedhros and Maglor also proudly sport a few clumsy, wonky braids each.

They’re less wonky with time, and eventually the twins are doing their fathers’ (kidnappers’) hair as often as not.

Finrod is reembodied shortly before Eärendil and Elwing gets to Valinor. It’s too early and he’s Not Doing Well. While in Middle Earth, he was the one who let basically every one of his friends braid his hair, now he can’t stand the thought of someone touching him that way.

But Beleriandic battle braids feel wrong in Tirion. And he’s desperately trying to reckon with his trauma, with Sauron defeating him by singing about the kinslaying, so he can’t leave his hair loose like the Teleri.

And he can’t quite get the sight of Edrahil’s bloody braids spat out by a werewolf out of his head.

He wears nothing but the very strange-looking (to Amanyar) Mourning Braids he designed after Dagor Bragollach for a couple of years.

Then after an episode of really bad depression and nearly fading, he cuts his hair short.

No-braiding-possible kind of short.

While not unheard of in Beleriand (sometimes former thralls keep their hair very short, like Rog), it’s unthinkable in Valinor, especially for the Crown Prince of the Noldor.

He is stared at a lot, his reputation goes down the drain, but to Finrod it’s liberating.

He does let his hair grow out again eventually, but only when other Exiles start coming back and choose to keep the Beleriandic braid styles, and it becomes a fashion statement rather than a mark of shame.

Finarfin is Very Shocked arriving in Beleriand when he finds his (single remaining) child with her hair loose and everyone else with weird self-braided battle hairstyles.

After a battle or three where he ends up with his hair matted with blood and mud, he caves and gets Galadriel to give him battle braids.

By the end of the war he’s even learned to do them himself! Let it not be said that King Arafinwë Ñoldóran didn’t rise to his calling.

The night before sending the Elrond and Elros to Gil-galad, Maedhros and Maglor undo all of their braids. Everyone cries.

Maedhros and Maglor meant this to minimize the ‘taint’ their names would put on the twins, by making it look like they were still hostages to the end, but the twins stop on the way to do each other’s hair because one does not meet a king with their hair loose, they have manners (which the Fëanorians taught them, so they’re Very Specific Manners), so the effect is lost. Gil-galad has Questions. The twins refuse to lie.

Then, before going to steal the Silmarils, Maedhros and Maglor do each other’s hair, in a style of their father’s that they haven’t worn since the Oath.

Maglor braids a single golden ribbon into Maedhros’s hair.

They have very few pieces of hair jewellery left of their brothers’, but they use all of them.

They both know it’s the last time.

To be continued

I did some sketches for visual reference of a few of the hairstyles mentioned here, if you want to see what I'm imagining!

#noldor hair headcanons #if i am to braid my mystic crown #noldor #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #finrod #kidnap fam #silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #echo's fanfiction

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thelordofgifs · 2 months

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The Unburied for the wip ask game please!

(WIP titles ask game)

The Unburied is the longfic I am going to finish and start posting once tfs is done! At the moment it's on the backburner, but I'm still very committed to it. A canon-compliant fic spanning the years between the ship-burning at Losgar and the rise of the Sun, from the alternating POVS of Maglor in Mithrim and Fingon on the Helcaraxe.

Here's a snippet:

“You look better,” he said, to change the subject. While Curufin was still very pale, there was some animation now in his dark eyes, and he moved with an echo of his old confidence. “Not that — I mean—” He had never known himself to stumble over his words before, he who had wielded them as a weapon long before Morgoth put any thought of forging swords into the minds of the Noldor in Tirion. A frightening thing, to know yourself so little, to wake up with half your heart torn away and find yourself a stranger without it. “It helped, a little,” said Curufin. “Making this.” He managed a wry smile, and added, “I suppose Tyelko was right when he used to say that I could forget anything with the work. For a time, at least.” “I am glad,” said Maglor, and meant it. “You might try it too, Káno,” said Curufin. He could not grow used to this, the sight of his little brothers all looking at him with varying degrees of nervous concern, as though it was their responsibility to care for him and not the other way round — and why did they bother, anyway? Did they hope to make themselves replacements, as though any of them could say in that fond and laughing voice, Káno, you should not stay up this late, go to sleep, or Káno, you have forgotten to eat again, have you not? No matter, I brought you some fruit — no, I will not leave until you have eaten it all, or even Come for a walk with me, dearest, you have not been outside in days— He still could not weep. “Try what?” he asked, trying to sound interested in the answer. “I have not heard you sing,” said Curufin, “since Tyelko came back.” A pretty euphemism, that: as though it was Celegorm’s return that was the cause of their sorrows, and not the fact that Maedhros had not.

#asks #hobbitwrangler #ask game #unburied verse #oh this one is angsty. I forgot

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annoyinglandmagazine · 3 months

Text

Day 1: Maedhros

He looked at his brothers, ragged silver and black hair carelessly splayed over their muddied, torn cloaks and tunics, no retinue in sight and only one horse between them. Still they held their chins with a haughty tilt and glared disdainfully at him from the moment they were summoned to his study. Still they did not apologise nor express any regret whatsoever over Finrod’s death, over their scheming for the kingdom of the only one of their cousins who would have taken them in at their lowest -well perhaps no longer their lowest.

They had most likely shown Finrod just as little deference and gratitude as they were showing him right now, for they’d known Finrod would no more turn a faction including the not yet grown Celebrimbor away than Maedhros could find it within himself to reject his brothers once and for all. They knew that though the Lord of Himring was not known for empty threats or being more talk than action, in this case whatever he would say, however he may profess his disgust and fury, however much he may wish to never cast his eyes upon them again, it would all be bluster of no material consequence.

However their relationship fractured he would not turn them away, could not sever it entirely and discard it like it was nothing. They knew it from the way he had kept the same rooms free for them from their last visit half a century ago, from the hint of concern when he heard the strain on Curufin’s throat, the seemingly dismissive way he asked him to lower his collar so he could inspect it to verify their account of events. He heard them out, filling in the gaps where they glossed over facts from his knowledge of them and previous reports, and it was no less disastrous than he’d feared.

This was the kind of story that would spring to mind at the words Sons of Feanor, a trusting kingdom betrayed and overthrown, a heroic king dead to his own kin’s spite, lust for power and fruitless oath, a good Sindarin princess lusted after as a bride and held captive against her will. They would be the villains of every song and tale told to warn Sindarin children to behave, the bad example echoed through history of the horrific depths a soul can fall to when driven only by greed, pride and obsession.

Celegorm and Curufin were intelligent enough to know that, to know how this would destroy so much of what he had been working towards this whole age. Throughout it they glared right back at him unashamedly, ready to meet whatever raging he may give them head on, aware that it would be meaningless. There was a trace of something else in the set certainty of their faces though.

They knew the chaos they had just set in motion, they knew that the consequences would be dire for all of them as a whole; they had come here for another reason than to get his rebuke over and done with so they could progress with reorganisation. Somewhere buried deep inside the things they held as certainty, they’d always liked certainty, alongside that the oath must be fulfilled and their father could never have been wrong about a single thing in his life because if he was then maybe he had been wrong about this and their entire lives had been sacrificed for nothing- well they needed certainty may be a better way of putting it; they still believed that he could make it all go away.

They would never say it, never acknowledge it because when examined too closely it would shatter into a thousand pieces, refuted time and time again from the moment at the docks when their father had dismissed his attempt at avoiding further escalation offhand and he could only stand aside and watch; not fall into line and help, not rail against him and attempt to halt it, just watch from a few feet away. From the moment he had walked into a trap, the moment they had sat by the bedside of the wreck Thangoridrim had left him and seen with their own eyes that he had brought to utter helplessness, complete despair.

Yet still he could see somewhere in their faces beneath the proud defiance, a child bringing a broken toy to their parent saying with unconvincing sorrow, I’m sorry I broke it- it was an accident- please fix it now.

He was reminded of the first time he had realised he could not solve some things however much he tried. That some things were to broken to be mended. ‘I cannot do this with you anymore Feanaro, you self important, arrogant, spiteful excuse for a husband! I don’t know why you think I should stand for this any longer, I really don’t-’ Ammë’s yelling had carried up the staircases, vibrating off every surface, joined frequently by Atya’s furious offence.

He could practically see her hands up about her head, the glint in her eye, the way her frizzy red curls would frame her face; he’d seen them fight enough to picture it very well from where he lay in his bed several floors above them and resolved himself not to pull his pillow over his ears to drown them out as he had when they had begun to do so, it felt like centuries ago but must only have been a few years- they’d never argued like this when he’d been a child.

Then things had begun to shatter. He froze in shock, wondered for a moment if he should intervene in case something went completely, horribly wrong but he couldn’t move from where he was curled up tight underneath the blankets, slightly muffling the crashing but only slightly. It was so loud, like thunder, crashing relentlessly below. It shouldn’t have surprised him that despite his chambers being nearest to the staircase Curufin had heard it from down the hall; his door creaked open on its hinges and little feet thudded across the carpet until he felt the quilt being pulled back and a cold little body sliding in next to him.

He drew the child in to his chest and tried to steady his breathing so it was not obvious that he had begun to sob; if Curufin noticed he was much too busy sobbing himself to mention it. The front of his nightshirt was quickly soaked through by the child as he tried to soothe him to unusually little effect. When Curufin’s breath evened out as he fell asleep curled into him, both of them still hiding under the covers for the illusion of a barrier between them and the chaos still ongoing downstairs.

He’d just stroked his hair and held him, as he finally begun to let his body tremble with quiet tears. Ammë’s eyes had been stormy and bloodshot at breakfast the next morning, her hair still wild and unbraided. She had not quite managed to sweep up all the fragments of a statue he recognised as being of Atya, an eye still poked out from under the table. Its subject was not present at meals for the next week. This was the first time he had known that there was no point hoping that it would get better, that they would work things out.

There was no fixing this. Perhaps there was no fixing any of it and there never had been; it may have been futile from the beginning. Or maybe it hadn’t been and he had just failed and would keep failing. It was so very hard to hope that one day his efforts would be enough to come to good; he tried because there was nothing else but he wasn’t sure he quite found it in himself to hope anymore. He wondered if perhaps his brothers had only stopped pretending to be something they weren’t and that was the only difference between them.

#silmarillion #tolkien #Feanorianweek #maedhros #celegorm #curufin #sons of feanor #feanor x nerdanel #nerdanel #feanorians

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