#now i don’t even know what atars i want to do

[whichwitchwins]

how DARE the world be presented to me in these tiny little career boxes when art is science and science is art and all i want is to bask in the both of them

#somebody help me #she’s on the future deliberation again oh no #but actually OH NO! #i had always put myself as one of the certain ones who knew what they were going to do but man oh man was i wrong #philosophy and physics was the goal #now i don’t even know what atars i want to do #i know 4 #i think #but idk #everything is wrong

[tar-maitime]

roots of my tree

Rating: T Characters: Fingon | Findekano, Maedhros | Maitimo Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon, fem!Maedhros/Fingon Additional: Formenos era, Romance, Elopement WC: 3k

Maitimë ducks into the treeline, finally out of the sight of anyone at Formenos, and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Findekáno there waiting for her.

His face splits into a smile like sunshine when he sees her. “Russë, you made it! I was starting to worry.”

She darts forward to hug him tightly. “Of course I made it; it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you. I was starting to go made up here without you.”

He hugs her back, pressing his face into her shoulder, and then pulls back just enough to kiss her. She’s missed that, too.

“Tell me about Tirion,” she says eventually, when they’ve pulled away long enough to curl up together at the base of a tree. His head leans on her shoulder, and she rests her cheek on his hair. “What’s been going on, since the last you told me?”

“Not a lot, lately,” Findekáno admits. “Politically, things have mostly gone back to normal, now that it’s been a while since the...incident and everyone’s adjusted to having a new king. Everyone else, at least; I’m still not used to it.”

Maitimë hums in response. One heated argument in the immediate aftermath notwithstanding, she and Findekáno have made their peace on this front. It helps that, though she would never say so, she suspects that Nolofinwë might, just possibly, be the better king, and that her father wants the day-to-day governance duties of the crown less than he wants what it represents, not the least of which is his own father’s highest love that everyone else already knows he has.

“People are still worried about Melkor,” Findekáno continues, “but they’re trying to worry very quietly. Nobody wants to believe something could actually go truly wrong.”

Maitimë is silent for a moment, and then, “Atar has been talking more lately about leaving here and crossing back to Endórë.”

That gets Findekáno’s attention, making him sit up sharply. “He wouldn’t really, though,” he says, not with much conviction.

“I think he would,” Maitimë says, letting her unhappiness with this state of affairs show like she can’t in Formenos. 

“Now, though?” Findekáno presses. “When no one knows where Melkor is? It would be more dangerous than ever.”

Maitimë signs. “Atar...does not trust the Valar to keep us safe here,” she says quietly. Then, “I wouldn’t truly mind the danger, and I think the rest might even be an interesting challenge. But...”

“What?”

“If Atar takes us across the Sea, you and I could be separated, if you weren’t able to find a way to come along somehow,” Maitimë says, not looking at him. “If we left suddenly enough, there might not even be the chance to say goodbye.”

Findekáno sucks in a breath as he considers this. “But you’ve got some kind of plan for if that happens, right? Or you will soon?” he asks.

“I...not yet.” Maitimë grimaces. “I’ve been thinking about it, but everything I think of has too many things that could go wrong.”

Findekáno hesitates. “Russë...don’t take this the wrong way...but could you just not go with them if it came to it?”

Maitimë bites her lip hard. “Maybe. It would be possible. But then I would never see any of them again, Finno.” As much as she may have wished to have space from her brothers in the past, the thought of being sundered from them forever, especially Káno, cuts at her. She would do it if it were the only way to not lose Findekáno, but it would be hard and terrible.

Because he knows her, he knows this, and doesn’t press. They’ve already talked about the other side of the coin, him leaving his family. He maintains that his father would take the family across the Sea with the right motivation, such as the need to follow his eldest son. Maitimë, on the other hand, knows there is nothing at all that would keep her father in Aman if he were to decide to leave.

“There is one other thing we could do,” Findekáno says suddenly, with the tone and expression Maitimë recognizes to mean that he’s just had some mad and daring idea. “We could get married.”

Maitimë nearly chokes on air, even as a swell of deep wanting sweeps through her.She has dreamed of such a thing for years, and to hear it mentioned so casually and as such an immediate thing...! But she still feels compelled to point out, “We might not have time. With the betrothal and the rings and organizing everything - and that’s assuming they’d let us --”

“Russë,” Findekáno says, cutting her off gently with a hand cupping her jaw. “We don’t need any of that to get married. Under any other circumstances, I would love to, because you deserve it all, but like you said, we probably don’t have time. And if we elope...our fëar will be linked, Russë. You can let me know if you’re about to leave suddenly and I’ll come.”

That makes Maitimë pause. It’s a good point. Ordinary ósanwë only has so much range, even for the most powerful, and they already know it won’t stretch from Tirion to Formenos. But a marriage bond...that would do it. Even so, “I don’t want to marry you just for a practical reason,” she says slowly. “That’s not fair to either of us.”

“It’s not,” Findekáno agrees. “But neither is any of this. Believe me, Russë, I want to do every tradition, every ceremony, to show all of Eldalië what you mean to me. But more than that, I want ot not wake up one morning and find you’ve gone across the Sea without me.”

“I don’t want that either,” Maitimë assures. A moment later, “Would we keep it secret? Would we even be able to, with the bond showing in our eyes?” Even as she speaks, she realizes she’s talking as if they’ve settled on the actual idea of eloping, and now only need to work out the details.

This is exactly how she and Findekáno used to get into trouble as children in Tirion: he would have a mad idea, she would inevitably start planning out how they would actually do it, and they would take turns sweet-talking themselves out of the ire of the adults.

“I can get away with not making prolonged eye contact for a little while, at least, before anyone notices,” Findekáno says thoughtfully. “And I’ll try to make excuses to get out of the city altogether when I can - I already have been, to see you. It can’t be that long before your father makes his move, if he’s going to.”

Maitimë nods. “I think I can make it work. The ones most likely to find out are my brothers, and I can probably make them keep quiet if I have to.” Except for Curufinwë, but he doesn’t meet her eyes much anyway. “And if it does come out...”

“Then we can start making the case for you to bring me along to Endórë,” Findekáno finishes. “It works out either way.”

Maitimë takes a deep breath. “I suppose that just leaves where and when.”

Findekáno looks up thoughtfully. “How easy to you suppose it would be to sneak into your bedroom window between the Mingling and Telperion waxing?”

Maitimë considers the house, and considers the feats she’s seen Findekáno pull off. “It would be tricky,” she says eventually, “but I think you could do it. The stonework and vines on that part of the house are climbable enough. I got back in that way once, when I’d stayed away too late with you, and you’re a better climber than I am.”

Findekáno nods. “Then maybe tonight?” he says. “Before I have to go back to Tirion. I can sneak in and...”

“And,” Maitimë agrees. Her mind is already running through weddings she’s attended, sorting out which parts are necessary, which parts are extra but can be done in some fashion quietly in her room, just the two of them, and which parts they’ll have to dispense with. She shifts to kiss Findekáno lightly. “In that case, I’d better head back now. The less suspicion I draw now, the more we’ll be able to get away with later.”

Findekáno kisses her back and then lets her go, his smile blinding. “I’ll see you then, Russë,” he promises, and then she has to tear herself away and hurry back to Formenos.

She needs to get ready.

- - -

Findekáno hauls himself up the last few feet, grabs the windowsill, and scrambles up and into Russandol’s room. His breath catches.

The room itself isn’t that different from what he saw of Russandol’s room in Tirion: neat, organized, decorated with red and gold hangings and carefully drawn maps. But Russandol is standing in the middle of it, waiting for him in the glow of a few lightstones, her hair unbraided and falling to her waist, seeming to glow faintly herself in white robes. Findekáno, who has spent the day traveling and then lurking in the woods, feels rather underprepared by contrast, not to mention a mess.

“Russë,” he breathes. Then, brushing ineffectually at his clothes. “I’m not...can I...there’s probably no way for me to sneak around and bathe without getting caught--”

“I don’t mind,” she says, then at a look from him, “I can fetch a few things. If you want.”

Five minutes with a basin of water and some soap and a rag behind Russandol’s changing screen isn’t ideal and doesn’t feel like nearly enough, but it helps somewhat, and gives him a chance to collect himself. He’s going to marry Russandol. Tonight. Right now. It’s rushed and furtive and not what they ought to have, but maybe when things are calmer they can do a full ceremony for everyone else. For now, they’ll work with what they have.

He brushes off his robes one more time, runs a hand over his braids, and emerges from behind the screen. “So how are we doing this?” he asks. “I know you have a plan.”

Turukáno likes to tell him smugly sometimes that someday he’ll do something reckless and foolish and Russandol won’t be there with her strategies and plans to back him up. But that day isn’t today, from the way she squares her shoulders.

“The only things we need for an official marriage are for us to both make a vow in the name of the One, and...join our bodies.” She glances away from him at the last part, color rising along her cheekbones. “Obviously our parents aren’t involved, so we might want to do the invoking of Manwë and Varda ourselves, just in case. And about rings...”

“I’m going to give you a ring,” Findekáno declares. In between rounds of pacing in the woods, he’d worked out exactly which of the rings he was wearing would do, and blessed whoever had first made it fashionable among the Noldor to wear so very much jewelry at all times. He pulls at the gold ring engraved with a pattern of maple leaves on his little finger. “You don’t have to if you’d rather not...”

Russandol fumbles with something on her desk. “No, I mean, I picked one to give to you.” She holds out her hand, revealing a gold ring etched with stars - surprisingly, not all eight-pointed. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“How could I not,” Findekáno says fervently, and takes the ring from her so he can press his own into her palm. “I can get you a better one than that later if you want, one that’s made for you...”

“This is perfect,” Russandol insists. She slides the ring onto the fourth finger of her right hand, where it fits exactly. Findekáno hastens to do the same with his new one. Then he takes a deep breath and steps forward to take Russandol’s hands in his.

“You’d better start,” he says, his mouth dry. “You’re older; that’s how it works, right?”

Russandol nods and clears her throat. “I, Nelyafinwë Maitimë Fëanáriel, called Russandol,” she says quietly, “do hereby pledge myself body and soul to Findekáno Astaldo Nolofinwion. This swear I: love I will give him all our days, faith unto world’s end. My word hear thou, Eru Ilúvatar! On the holy mountain hear in witness and my vow remember, Manwë and Varda!”

Findekáno’s pulse is pounding in his ears. He takes a second to make sure he can breathe, and then begins. “I, Findekáno Astaldo Nolofinwion, do hereby pledge myself body and soul to Nelyafinwë Maitimë Fëanáriel, my Russandol. This swear I: love I will give her all our days, faith unto world’s end. My word hear thou, Eru Ilúvatar! On the holy mountain hear in witness and my vow remember, Manwë and Varda!”

He swears he can feel Russandol’s spirit blaze out from her, and she looks at him as though he’s shining like the Trees. 

She moves, or he does, and then they’re kissing, slowly at first and then with greater fervor and fierceness. He’s felt Russë’s spirit close to the surface before in moments like this, but now he swears he can feel her like a fire in the back of his mind, nearer than ever.

He wants more, wants to not know where either of them begins or ends. In the morning, he has to go back to Tirion, without her, and be separated for who knows how long. But it’s not morning yet, and they can make the most of the time they have now.

Maybe it’s a growing sense of Russandol’s thoughts, or maybe it’s just her hands starting to run up under his shirt, but he knows she is thinking the same way.

- - -

Maitimë wakes up warm, with the feeling of starlight in the back of her mind. 

She shifts, and discovers that the warmth is from a body curled against hers. Her eyes fly open, revealing Findekáno beside and partially under her - she’d ended up laying her head on his chest. His heartbeat thuds steadily in her ear, pulsing slowly in time with the starlight in her mind.

Memory comes flooding in, along with her body reminding her of some particular details. She comes awake more fully, wonder and joy expanding in her chest. Findekáno is married to her. They’re married. No one can ever take them away from each other now.

He shifts, and then blinks awake, and she can both see and feel the moment of confusion as to where he is before he remembers fully and the starlight in her mind flares jubilantly.

Russë my Russë my wife, she hears him think, and it’s too much; she has to kiss the smile off his lips.

He kisses back warmly, and when they break apart his fingers keep running through her hair.

“Good morning,” he says with a grin.

The best morning, Maitimë thinks, and knows when he’s picked up on the thought by the way he lights up.

Best of all mornings so far, he thinks back. Then, aloud, “How much time do we have? I want to braid your hair.”

Maitimë nestles against him, turning her head to give him slightly better, if crooked, access. “Mm. Braid away.”

“I want to braid it,” Findekáno continues, “and then make a mess of it, even more than last night, until it all comes loose again, until my braids start to come undone and you have to help me redo them, and then I’ll do your hair again, something beautiful, something you couldn’t have possibly done yourself, to make everyone wonder.”

Maitimë shifts to peer up at him. “That sounds like it could take all morning. Longer.”

“That was the idea--”

A rapid knocking at the door cuts him off. “Nelyë? Are you up?” Makalaurë calls out. “Breakfast is going to be soon. Is everything all right?”

Maitimë freezes, simultaneously startled and intensely grateful that at least Makalaurë has the decency to not just barge into her room. “I just overslept, Káno,” she calls back. “I’ll be down in a moment. No need to worry.”

She hears his footsteps retreat, and huffs out a sign, letting her head fall back against the pillow. “I suppose that means our time is up,” she mutters. 

Findekáno hums reluctant agreement. “I would hide up here to wait for you, but...”

“But you need to get back to Tirion,” Maitimë says. Beside her, Findekáno sits up, stroking a hand back and forth over her shoulder. She feels the metallic smoothness of the ring against her skin.

“I’ll sneak back as soon as I can,” he promises. “And we have the bond now; we can’t truly be separated. It’ll be all right, Russë.”

She nods glumly, and watches as he gets up and starts hunting for his clothes. A few moments later, she makes herself get up and start getting ready for the day as well.

Someday, she thinks, they’ll be able to do this at the beginning of a day they get to actually spend together, out in the open.

Findekáno’s braids are still intact, but once Maitimë has brushed out her hair he quickly plaits half of it into a crown. When it’s done, she turns into his arms and they hold each other silently for a moment. 

Then, reluctantly, they pull away, with one more quick kiss between them, and he backs towards the windowsill. It’s already a while past the Mingling; she only hopes he can make it out without being spotted.

“Goodbye, Finno,” she murmurs.

“Not goodbye really,” he counters, tapping his temple. “Just - I’ll see you before long, Russë.”

“See you,” Maitimë echoes, and then he’s over the edge of the windowsill and gone.

She waits for a moment or two, missing him already. Then she straightens her back and turns to head downstairs, starlight glowing comfortingly in the back of her mind.

#silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #female maedhros #russingon #roots of my tree #my stories #something soft this time

[elentarial]

Written for @whiteoliphaunt 2023.

Characters: Idril, Turgon, Glorfindel

Words: 1118

Warnings: None

Giftee: @sallysavestheday

Synopsis: Turgon plays a game with Idril to help her adjust to life in Beleriand, but Glorfindel is much better at it than he is.

“And I’ll be the princess, and you can be my knight. But you can’t have serve any  Ladies other than me because Ammë wouldn’t like that. But you can be my protector, you know, so nothing evil will get to me. But they’ll probably have to eventually so you can rescue me.” Idril nodded firmly, bouncing up and down on her toes.

Turgon gave his daughter a wry smile. Occasionally Idril seemed to understand the severity and weight of their flight across the Ice. But other times, such as now, his daughter acted as if her mother was simply visiting a relative for afternoon tea. She was just so young to have experienced everything she had. If playing this silly game gave Idril even a measure of normalcy, Turgon was more than willing.

“Why can’t I be the princess and you be the knight?”

Idril considered this. “Well, I suppose you could be, but I don’t want to be a warrior, and I don’t think you’d make a very good princess, anyway.” She paused and added, “Sorry, Atya.”

“Aww,” he said but grinned to ensure she knew he was jesting. “All right. What are you the princess of, then?”

Idril gave him a look that only a few small elflings could have managed, the one that eloquently expressed just how completely dense she thought grown-ups were. “Nevarast, of course. What a silly question.”

“Well, you could be the princess of all of Beleriand if you wanted, my dear. Like – whatever her name is. The maia’s daughter.”

“Luthien,” Idril supplied promptly. “I hope I get to meet her someday. A real princess. I think we could be very good friends.”

“Who said that you aren’t a real princess?”

“Of course, I’m not a real princess, silly. I’d have to marry a prince, or you would have to be a king.” Idril nearly rolled her eyes, a gesture that she had to have learned from Aredhel. “I just like to pretend to be a princess.”

“But you are a princess,” Turgon said almost enthusiastically. “Your great grandfather was High King of the Ñoldor in Aman.”

“Atar,” said Idril, surprisingly high-handed for her tender years, “This doesn’t have anything to do with our game.”

“I beg my lady’s pardon,” Turgon said and dropped his head in wounded supplication. 

“We’re starting,” Idril announced and struck a pose. “Lord-“ another pause. “Would I call you Lord Turukáno or Lord Atya?”

“Lord Turukáno is fine.”

“All right. Lord Turukáno, then, approach the throne? ---this is the throne,” she said, pointing at the chest she perched on top of. “So that you know.”

“Of course,” Turgon said and approached the throne and knelt – even if he was still several heads taller than his daughter this way. “My lady.” he adopted his most officious voice, something similar to his father’s or grandfather’s, and Idril giggled – “What is your pleasure this day?”

“Good,” she said, pleased, “You’re good at this – I mean. You are meant to report back on the success of your quest.”

“My quest? What was my quest?” Turgon looked up briefly with a perplexed smile. Idril frowned at him.

“I don’t know, you make it up! I shouldn’t have to do everything.”

“Oh,” he said. “I only thought you might have had something in mind-“

“You’re breaking up the story!”

“Sorry.” Turgon ducked his dark head down again. “My – quest, my lady. Of course. The quest – succeeded admirably, though our brave comrade Lord – Lord Laurefindil has-“

“What about me?”

Idril squeaked, then jumped, then beamed. “Glorfindel! I mean – Lord Laurefindil, you may approach the throne – I’m sitting on it. You can be a knight, too! I’ll knight you. Queens can do that, right?”

“I thought you were a princess,” Turgon murmured, offering Glorfindel a glance that said please play along. 

“Well, princesses probably can, too,” Glorfindel allowed. “And what happened to me? What’s this quest?”

“You were mortally wounded,” Turgon said humorlessly, “And I’m getting to the quest's purpose. Try to look a little more mortally wounded, Laure.” Glorfindel promptly flopped to the floor. Idril giggled again. “Now. Our brave comrade Lord Laurefindil has been gravely wounded, but we have brought back the – the rare wild kittens, even though the savage Laiquendi did their best to stop us. Their weapons were no match for our speed and skill.”

“And modesty, too,” Glorfindel murmured, Turgon scowled at him.

“A kitten?” Idril asked. “Why would I want a kitten?”

“Because you like them, Itarildë ” Turgon exclaimed sheepishly and more than a little exasperated. “It was the first thing I could think of. You still like kittens, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Idril said, “All right,” and promptly readjusted to her role. “Say not so, brave Lord Turukáno! Never should our knights have to pay for their bravery with their lives.” She snuck a look sideways. “But he’ll be okay, right?”

“My lady,” Glorfindel announced from his place on the floor- wiggling away from Turgon’s boot when he huffed at Glorfindel’s actions– “The balm of your tears would heal any wound.” Idril stared at him blankly for a few moments and then brightened.

“Oh – oh! Of course, Lord Turukáno-“

“Very formal,” Glorfindel offered, sounding amused.

“Be quiet. You’re supposed to be at death’s door.”

“Does death have a door?”

“Lord Turukáno, I thank you for the wisdom of your council. Now, if only the Valar will help me save this worthy knight!” Idril hopped off the chest and hurried over to Glorfindel, where she sat cross-legged and pretended to cry.

She stopped a few moments later and poked Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Fin? –I mean, Lord Laurefindil?”

Turgon didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out when one of Glorfindel’s blue eyes opened slowly, then the other, and then he was blinking and lifting one hand to his brow as though he were horribly faint. “—my lady,” he said in a voice that was nearly a perfect facsimile of their cousin Canafinwë. Idril jumped to her feet, clapping her hands.

“It worked! It worked!” She pranced over to where Turgon was still kneeling and kissed his cheek. “My brave, brave lords! You are the best knights ever, and if I do marry a prince, then you’ll be my guard all the time.”

“Of course, my love, Turgon said patiently. “That’s just how it’ll always go.”

“Did I walk into something I shouldn’t have?” Glorfindel murmured from the floor, and Turgon shot him a look while Idril scrambled back onto the cedar chest.

“Just go with it,” Turgon mouthed, and Idril knocked her knuckles on the chest.

“Are you listening, Atya- Lords Turukáno and Laurefindil?”

“Yes, milady,” they chimed dutifully and bowed their heads to receive their orders.

#silm fic #turgon #idril celebrindal #glorfindel #White oliphaunt 2023

[scatteredlight1]

Friends

March 17/18 - Childhood + Family & Friendship

Summary: Child Curufin and Celegorm on friends and family.

Curufinwe found himself frowning down at the book he had borrowed from Carnister. It was supposed to be easy maths from what his older brother had said, and Carnister had claimed he had completed the book when he was four years younger than Curufinwe was now.

The only problem was that Curufinwe didn’t understand a single bit of the problems that were in front of him. None of the equations made sense, nor did the explanations of the answers.

“Are you glaring at a book?” Tyelkormo asked, poking his head into the living room first before the rest of him followed. He looked like he was sneaking away from someone, and Curufinwe turned his narrowed eyes to Tyelkormo.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, closing the book and placing it to the side before he hopped off the chair. He was still too short to place his feet on the floor when he was seated, which he found extremely annoying. Even the twins were nearly as tall as him, and he was far older than them.

Tyelkormo shrugged, eyes darting this way and that, before he leaned closer to Curufin. “Would you like to come out with me?”

“Where are you going?”

Curufinwe couldn’t help the curiosity. Tyelkormo was known to have the best adventures in the whole of Tirion, and Curufinwe enjoyed his brother’s airheaded nature occasionally.

Tyelkormo shrugged. “Perhaps we may visit Irisse, or that shiny friend of yours.”

“Do you mean Findaráto?” Curufinwe asked, unimpressed by Tyelkormo’s lack of memory of their cousin. “He’s our cousin.”

Tyelkormo shot him a confused look.

“What difference does that make? He is your friend, is he not?” Then, Tyelkormo paused as a realization of some sort crossed his face. Curufinwe had the feeling that his brother hadn’t come to the right conclusion. “Wait. Are you better friends with Aikanaro? Or Arakano? Or one of those cousins of ours? Don’t worry we can go meet them if you want.”

He ended his little speech by patting Curufinwe on the head, which annoyed Curufinwe to no end. Didn’t his brother have any embarrassment? Any shame? Could he not restrain himself for one moment?

Besides, atar had said that Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë were only his half-siblings, and he didn’t like either of them. So, why should Curufinwe like any of his half-cousins?

“Atar said we shouldn’t spend time with them,” Curufinwe made up.

Tyelkormo shot him a wide-eyed look. “When was this? And why? Is it because they’re Ñolofinwe’s children?”

“Yes.”

Tyelkormo scowled. “Well, atar is wrong about whatever he told you. Irisse is my friend, and I’ll meet her if I want to. She certainly isn’t avoiding me because her father doesn’t like atar. So I can’t avoid her cause atar doesn’t like her father.”

Curufinwe didn’t understand how Tyelkormo could just say something like that, but his brother was determined and his jaw was set in a way that Curufinwe knew would end as an argument. Tyelkormo always refused to budge when he looked like that. Just… why would Celegorm not listen to atar over a friend?

“Whatever,” Tyelkormo muttered, sounding displeased. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask you. Just don’t tattle to atar until I’m back; I don’t want him spoiling my fun.”

And Tyelkormo whirled around, heading for the door. Huan was no doubt waiting for him outside. Curufinwe watched him go, glancing back at the maths book he had left on the chair. Quickly, he made his decision. For now, he would still consider Findarato his friend, as long as he didn’t do anything to Curufinwe or atar personally. What harm could it cause?

Maitimo had Findekano, Tyelkormo had Irisse and the Ambarussa played with little Artanis often. Surely, Curufinwe could spend some time with Findarato. Atar hadn’t yelled at any of them for spending time with their cousins, although he didn’t seem to like their cousins much.

“Wait, Tyelko,” he said loudly, and Tyelkormo stopped at the doorway expectantly. Curufinwe shot another look at the maths book lying on the chair, then he dashed across the room and joined Tyelkormo at the door. “I’ll come with you as long as we can meet Findarato.”

Tyelkormo beamed, clapping his hands together.

Grabbing Curufinwe’s hand carelessly, Tyelkormo dragged him out.

“We’ll have a lot of fun, Curvo,” he said, laughingly. “Trust me.”

And absurdly, Curufinwe did.

For that moment, all his apprehension and confusion was replaced by simple joy as he enjoyed an afternoon with his cousins.

#c+c week 2024 #silmarillion #fanfic #curufin #celegorm

[annoyinglandmagazine]

‘So. Kano. I noticed that your gaze happened to linger on certain nèr over the course of the evening.’ Maedhros said this casually as they walked back to the house. Maglor stopped in his steps staring at his brother in disbelief. ‘Is this payback for the Finno stuff? I’m the younger sibling I get away with it! You can’t just decide today that you’re going to be annoying too, that’s my job!’ Maedhros laughed holding his hands up ‘I’m not trying to torment you Kano. I just think this is something we should be able to talk about!’ ‘Well I don’t! Not even remotely! So just leave it, ok!’ Maglor was turning red and looking away. ‘I’m just saying that you’re growing up now Makalaure, and with that you may want to start experimenting with your sexuality and that’s absolutely fine you just need to remember-’ ‘Oh sweet Valar. Are you trying to give me the Talk?! I already had to deal with that from Amil and Atar I don’t need to sit through another one!’

‘Well,’ and Maedhros finally looked a bit uncomfortable, ‘I’m sure they did a perfectly …. comprehensive job,’ he grimaced clearly remembering his own ordeal so many years ago, as Kano began covering his ears and singing to himself ‘tra la la la I can not hear youuu.’ ‘but they have a uh….. limited pool of reference for certain areas.’ He visibly steeled himself for the next sentence, ‘I just thought that when it comes to situations involving two nèr I may be able to prepare you with a bit more information-’

‘Oh Eru no! I don’t want to hear your advice on gay sex Nelyo! Absolutely fucking not! I don’t know if I’m like you or not but I sure as Mandos know I don’t want to know any more about what exactly you and Finno were doing in that forest last month, so please just shut the fuck up!’

#Silmarillion #Tolkien #russingon #maedhros and maglor #maedhros #maglor #feanorians

[91vaults]

I’m wondering what are peoples experience with education? specifically in regards to streaming or segregation (especially if you went to school in Australia)

I think a lot about this topic. I’ve always think the problem is the thing that isn’t talked about is the dissonance between what something should do in theory and how it plays out in real life

in systems that stream kids early the idea is that they can learn at their own pace which is good, but is the reality that your basically stuck there for the rest of you’re schooling? and so your opportunitys later in life are affected at such an early age. And who does that affect most? disadvantaged kids

not to mention the feedback loop of self perception. If kids get the message they can’t do something then they are going to check out.

My own experience wasn’t that dramatic. We didn’t have streaming early on BUT it wasn’t until i went to a fancy private school for high school that things took a turn. (this is just gonna be self indulgent trauma dumping from this point lol)

it might be different now but at the time you had your first 3 years of highscool then your last two years were spent getting what they call an ATAR which is a score out of 100 that determines your university entrance

Now i would be curious if this is more common in private schools than public schools but ATAR results are public and often used as a measure of a schools “quality” not to mention a selling point of schools…especially private schools

So that leads us to this situation. My school did exams in year 10 and probably before that, these exams determined which subjects we were “recommended” i don’t know how this compares other schools

I did poorly in those exams for reason both my fault and out of my control. So I was “not recommend” to sit the exams for uni entrance. What devastated me so much was it was the exact kick up the ass i needed yet I would never have the chance to turn things around. It really was a gut punch

The same thing happened to the daughter of a lady from work shortly after i left school, so she pulled her out of the (fancy private) school and enrolled her in a public one.

I did their vocational track, I am very fuzzy on the details so if i had a plan in mind I might have gotten more out of it but i had no plan because my self perception was shattered and i didn’t know what i wanted to do. The track was just work experince, and work experince sucks, and it sucks for somone who has very bad anxiety and poor social skills. I longed to be back in the classroom.

I don’t want to trash vocational routes or vocational education/training. The best people at my work who can run circles around me do not have degrees. There are many great careers out there and university degrees are probably overrated

that said I don’t think the vocational track really worked for me. I left school depressed and with nothing to show for it. I was totally checked out for the last two years and didn’t care, and still feel bad about the money my parents wasted in school fees, i really wish i had just gotten the fuck out of there and done proper cert, it was even suggested to me but the prospect of not even finishing school was too much to bear.

I know it’s kind of a moot point cause in Aus we have a lot of alerterante pathways to university and i even took one out of school and failed out of a semester of uni (for personal reasons not related to acedemics) but on some level it really affected me, especially after dropping out

I now have a bachelors and work in a well respected feild. I work with people from all kinds of backgrounds so i think i’ve pretty much out all that insecurities to rest

I just think schools should listen to what the students goals are and not shove people aside in the name of test scores. It’s not that Vocational tracks are bad, i think they are good and have a lot of undeserved stigma. But I think people have choices and not have those choices yanked away so early in life.

#school #education #neurodivergent #neurodivergent education #higher education #university #college #high school #vocational #Australian education #australian education system #australia #private schools #public schools #private school #catholic school

[sweetteaanddragons]

Innocence

Nolofinwe’s first thought was that Feanaro had sired another son and neglected to mention it.

A second thought dismissed this as ridiculous, given a moment’s comparison between the age of the child (halfway to adolescence) and the length of time Feanaro had previously been able to resist announcing that he had another child (half a breath).

His second thought was that Curufinwe had sired a child, but given that then he would have had to miss both a birth and a marriage announcement, he was inclined to doubt it.

“I did say Atar was unavailable for a reason,” Pityo said helpfully from behind him.

“No,” Nolofinwe said after another moment of stunned silence spent exchanging stares with a bright eyed and half sized Feanaro, “you said, and I quote, “Atar is unavailable for - reasons.” Forgive me for assuming you were just trying to get rid of me.”

Feanaro had hopped up to perch on the scarred wood of his much abused workbench, presumably so he could continue the staring contest from a more equitable position. “Why do we want to get rid of you?” he asked. “Who are you, anyway?”

Nolofinwe blinked.

He wasn’t quite sure which sentence had hit him harder. It was probably better not to think about it.

“He doesn’t know who I am either,” Pityo in a voice that was clearly trying to substitute manic cheer for sanity. “I think an experiment went wrong.”

“How do you know it went wrong?” Feanaro demanded. “Maybe I was trying to do this.”

Well, at least some things hadn’t changed. “But we are accepting the premise that this was an experiment.”

Pityo looked helplessly around Feanaro’s workroom, with its profusion of strange tools, unidentifiable substances, and suspicious jewelry, as if to ask, What else could it be?

“That’s what the - my notes say,” Feanaro said, and the stumble revealed the first hint of uncertainty in this whole mess. “I think.”

Nolofinwe snatched up the closest sheaf of papers.

It immediately became apparent why Feanaro had not been able to make that statement with any more certainty.

“He’s developed another system of writing,” he said blankly. It was not quite a question. “Wasn’t coming up with one enough?”

Feanaro brightened. “I made a new system of writing? What’s it like? Will you show me?”

“It’s not a whole new system,” Pityo said at the same time. “It’s just his code. I suppose . . . “ And he gestured helplessly again, this time at his miniaturized father.

“I recognize some of it,” Feanaro said defensively. “And I figured out some of the rest. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.”

“He’s stuck like this until he can decode his own notes?”

Pityo shook his head. “Curufinwe should be able to decode it. Probably. He taught it to all of us, it’s just . . . been a while.”

“He said I have seven sons,” Feanaro said. He sounded enormously impressed by this information. “Are you one of them?”

It took a lifetime of controlling his expression in court not to choke.

“No,” Pityo said, sounding horrified.

Nolofinwe was not particularly eager to hear how one of Feanaro’s sons would explain him.

“I’m your brother,” he said. “Nolofinwe.”

He was not at all prepared for the way Feanaro glowed.

Or for the way Feanaro flung himself off the worktable and wrapped himself around Nolofinwe like the octopus Arafinwe had once shown him.

Before Nolofinwe could react, Feanaro had already clambered up, tiny limbs jabbing into Nolofinwe and awkwardly pulling at the jewels pinned to his court finery, until Feanaro had secured himself firmly on Nolofinwe’s back, pointy chin digging into his head.

“There,” Feanaro said triumphantly. “Now I’m taller than you again.”

“Again?” Nolofinwe asked, automatically adjusting his grip on Feanaro’s legs to keep him from falling. He was abruptly thankful that Pityo had managed to dig up some child sized clothes before he got here.

“You’re my little brother,” Feanaro said matter-of-factly. “I’m taller than you.”

Nolofinwe was, in fact, about a hands-width taller than Feanaro, a fact that he was privately and perhaps bit embarrassingly proud of.

He resisted the urge to share this fact with his currently younger half-brother.

This bit of maturity was helped by the fact that he was still processing the look on Feanaro’s face when he had found out who Nolofinwe was to him.

He took a deep breath. “Back to our most urgent concern,” he said. “If Curufinwe is the only one who can translate these notes, where is he?”

Pityo bit his lip. “Out with the others, probably. We were all helping Makalaure set up for his performance at the festival tonight. I just came back to grab something and found . . . “

“Me,” Feanaro said, small arms temporarily squeezing tighter in their grip.

“Right,” Nolofinwe said. He resisted the urge to rub between his eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any idea why you were trying to make yourself younger in the first place? I assume you intended to keep your memories while you did so, but that still doesn’t explain the rest of it.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” For once, Feanaro’s voice wasn’t smug, just matter of fact. “I was probably trying to figure out how to make other things younger and just tested it out on myself.”

“But why? We already have the means to preserve items - “

“But not animals,” Feanaro said, one arm releasing him so he could wave it excitedly. “Or we don’t, at least, and I bet you don’t either. If I could make this work, then people could have horses or cats that they’d never have to lose.” His voice was passionate with excitement for a project that wasn’t even really his, and for all the distance and anger between them, Nolofinwe didn’t have to wonder even for a moment why.

“But did you have to try it on yourself first?” he asked instead even though, rationally speaking, it was a waste of time to direct the question to Feanaro just now.

“I don’t think he did,” Pityo said. “There’s a loaf of bread on the table that I’m pretty sure was stale this morning, and when I opened the door to come in here, a kitten ran out. This was just . . . the next logical step.”

Nolofinwe gave him a flat look. Pityo jerked his chin up stubbornly.

Feanaro tugged on the collar of his robes to regain his attention. “Aren’t you even a little impressed, Nolo? I turned back time!”

“Of course it’s impressive,” he said, automatically reassuring. It had the benefit of also being true. “It’s just also insane.”

Feanaro was apparently not bothered by the second part of this because he settled back down almost immediately, pointy chin once again burrowing into Nolofinwe’s shoulder.

Pityo looked about to protest, but apparently he didn’t want Feanaro’s pointy chin any closer to his own shoulders because he kept his objections to himself. “Look,” he said instead. “I’ll go get Curufinwe and bring him back here to start working on things. I would have gone earlier, but I couldn’t leave him alone.”

And the last thing they needed was for word of this to spread around Tirion, which went unsaid.

Technically, of course, he was one of the people such word would have been kept from; there were a half dozen plans that could be pushed forward in the court with infinitely more ease with the knowledge that Feanaro would not be interfering for the foreseeable future, and Pityo knew it.

But it was hard to think of that while Feanaro was clinging to him like Nolofinwe’s own children had been too old to do for ages. And if Pityo hadn’t trusted him not to turn the situation to his own advantage, he at least trusted him enough to look after Feanaro now that he knew.

That was something.

So he just nodded, and Pityo took off like a deer with the whole hunt of Orome behind it.

When the door swung shut behind him, Nolofinwe turned his head so that he could better see Feanaro and said, “You’re taking this very well.”

He’d waited in case Feanaro took that as he cue to start not taking things well; he didn’t think the situation would be in any way improved by Feanaro bursting into tears in front of his son.

But Feanaro just shrugged. “It’s an adventure!” he said with a blinding grin that faded a bit into thoughtfulness. “And I’ve seen my notes in here and . . . and some of Amil’s tapestries upstairs. It looks like a house I’d have.”

And of course there was no reason to be concerned, Nolofinwe supposed; Feanaro was safe, there was no reason to suppose he’d ever be anything other than totally safe. This was Aman, not long ago Cuivenien, but still.

He supposed the world had changed since Feanaro was a child after all because he still couldn’t quite suppress a thrill of vicious vicarious unease. Feanaro in his right mind would not want to be this vulnerable, especially not in front of the half-brother that he now seemed for inexplicable reasons to adore.

But Feanaro was now squirming down from his place on Nolofinwe’s back. He let him down quickly, and Feanaro circled around and reclaimed his perch on the workbench, face suddenly very serious.

“Those weren’t the only things I saw upstairs,” he said. “I saw the bedrooms too.”

“Oh?” Nolofinwe said, at a loss as to why this, of all things, would upset a child-sized Feanaro.

Feanaro’s shoulders were tense. “I saw my bedroom,” he clarified, and when this still provoked no answer, his chin jutted out. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he insisted. “I saw. It was my bedroom, just mine. Something happened to their mother, didn’t it?”

His voice shook over the word “something.”

It probably said something too that he said "their mother" and not "my wife," but given his current age, mothers were probably an infinitely more comfortable topic, even considering the history of his own.

Nolofinwe sat down beside him. “Nothing happened to Nerdanel,” he said gently. Feanaro perked up just a little at the extra information he had just inadvertently provided, so Nolofinwe gave him some more. “That’s her name. She has hair just as red as Pityo’s, and she’s a sculptor. Her workshop should still be here. Have you seen it?”

Feanaro shook his head.

“She’s the best in Aman,” Nolofinwe said, and it was no empty flattery. “She’s gone to visit her family, that’s all. Nothing bad.”

“She went to visit her family, and she took everything with her?” Feanaro said skeptically.

Nolofinwe had come here hoping to discuss a few details of the festival with his brother before he went to push his case for the new university's funding in court. He had prepared for that. He had not prepared how to discuss the difficulties in his brother’s marriage with a child who wasn’t familiar with any possible difficulties in marriage beyond death.

“You had a fight,” he admitted.

Feanaro considered this. “Did I win?”

“That depends on how you define winning,” Nolofinwe said dryly. “But regardless, she is very much still alive.”

This seemed to satisfy Feanaro. At the very least, he moved on. “So how much older than you am I?” he asked, and there was a strange look on his face now.

Nolofinwe didn’t really see how the answer could do any harm, but something about the look on Feanaro’s face made him wary. “You had already started your apprenticeship when I was born,” he said, leaving at least a little ambivalence in case he needed it later.

Feanaro’s shoulders slumped a fraction, but he recovered quickly, leaning forward eagerly. “But I started that young, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he admitted. “You’d finished it before you were of age.”

Feanaro nodded, calculations running behind his eyes. “And I bet she didn’t have you right away,” he said, fingers tapping quickly, like a count. “They would have waited.”

“That’s . . . true,” he said warily.

“So it won’t be much longer then,” Feanaro said cheerfully. “From my perspective, I mean, I know it’s already handled here.”

Cheerfully?

Feanaro had apparently noticed his confusion because he rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot,” he said with a deep scorn that was far more familiar than any other expression he’d worn that day. “I know where babies come from. Atar couldn’t have given me a brother on his own.”

“Two brothers,” he said blankly. “Arafinwe - “

Feanaro grinned. “Even better.” But the grin faltered quickly. “Did she - blame me? When she came back, and you turned out alright, did she think it was my fault?”

When she came back.

He had wondered, earlier, just how old Feanaro was.

Too young, apparently, to know of his father’s decision to remarry.

That explained . . . a lot.

Feanaro’s face had crumpled in the face of his silence.

“Of course not,” he said. “Of course not, she would never blame you.” He wrapped an arm around Feanaro and pulled him closer.

Feanaro’s shoulders shook. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, stubbornly not crying. “I’m not a baby.”

“She didn’t blame you,” he invented wildly. “She blamed Atar. But she forgave him, as Arafinwe obviously proves.”

It came out almost naturally. It would have been entirely naturally if it hadn’t belatedly occurred to him just how much trouble he would be in if Feanaro asked the obvious follow-up question and demanded to see her.

Thankfully, at that moment, the muffled sound of the door to the house banging open rang out, followed quickly by the door to the workshop slamming open in its turn.

Curufinwe ran through first, and Fenaaro’s jaw dropped at the older reflection of himself.

For his part, Curufinwe’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tears still trembling in his father’s eyes. Thunder clouds immediately began to form on his face.

Maitimo was a slightly calmer presence behind him, but his face was still flushed from moving too fast in formal robes in the summer heat. “Uncle,” he said, inclining his head. “We appreciate your assistance.”

Curufinwe opened his mouth. Maitimo very firmly snatched the relevant papers from the workbench and steered him to the other end of the workroom. Curufinwe went, though he kept sending rather understandable glances back toward his Atar.

Maitimo was gentler when he approached Feanaro, kneeling so that they were at eye level. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Maitimo. Did Pityo tell you who I am?”

“You’re the one with all the letters in your room,” Feanaro said, a little warily.

Maitimo’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “That’s right.”

Curufinwe was in sweat stained work clothes, but Maitimo’s were finer; he must have visited court before going to help Makalaure. Regardless, there were jewels glinting around his neck, and Feanaro, perhaps inevitably, was drawn toward them.

“Did I make those?” he asked eagerly, successfully distracted from his earlier distress, eyes tracing the chain of gold framed rubies that looked like sparks from a fire that wrapped from Maitimo’s shoulder to his waist.

Maitimo’s smile widened. “You did,” he said. “They were a gift for my first appointment of any real substance at court.”

Feanaro’s attention turned to Nolofinwe’s own court finery and the sapphires twisted into the silver circlet in his hair. “Did I make that?” he demanded.

Nolofinwe resisted the urge to wince. “You did not.”

That was no crime, of course; it was just that this piece in particular was very pointedly not made by Feanaro. It had, in fact, been made by a Vanyarin smith who had been trumpeted as their very best, and while the Vanyar were not generally known for their smiths, some had boasted that he could challenge even Feanaro’s skill.

Commissioning the piece had been a statement, a declaration that he was not ashamed of his Vanyarin heritage, that Feanaro’s supremacy was not unchallenged, that -

Well. A lot of things. Wearing it was also always a very deliberate jab, and it was one he had been wholeheartedly in favor of this morning.

But he couldn’t tell that to the painfully earnest Feanaro of right now.

“You’ve made me others, though,” he said, which was actually true.

There was the delicate silver bracelet that had likely been a long forgotten statement of some kind that Feanaro had gifted him upon his birth. He still had it tucked into a corner of his jewel box despite the fact it was now far too small to be of any possible use. There was the necklace Feanaro had presented to him when he was still very small, and Nolofinwe had been dragged out to Tol Eressea for the first time. He had been terrified of the shadows there and of the sky so dark that stars could peek through, and Feanaro had presented him with a chain of jewels that glowed when his tiny hands squeezed them. There had been a more formal piece too, a diadem, when he reached adolescence and was formally presented to the court. Feanaro had given it to him shortly after he confessed in a tense whisper to his nerves.

There had been a handful of more minor trinkets too, but those had trailed off after that last diadem. Feanaro had been . . . distant, frequently, in his youth, but that had often been a matter of physical distance as much as anything else, and the vast gulf in their ages. When that distance had been crossed, he had been - kind, in that fierce way of his, especially when Nolofinwe had felt weak and most in need of him.

It was when Nolofinwe had proven himself strong that the tension between them had truly arisen as a force in its own right instead of merely an echo of their parents’ lives. Childish fears of the dark had melted, and a gift for persuasion and rhetoric had sent him on a meteoric rise in courtly influence in their place.

It had not meant the end of gifts, exactly; Feanaro had as much desire to appease their father as Nolofinwe did, and so the gifts had continued at all appropriate occasions. It was just that they were never from Feanaro’s own hand anymore, and with only a few small exceptions, he strongly suspected them to have been selections of first Nerdanel and then Maitimo.

But there had been one exception, even to that. It had, ironically enough, been presented to Nolofinwe shortly after he had first worn the set he was currently draped in.

Unlike every other piece Feanaro had ever given him, the chains had been gold. Most of the jewels had been blue, glowing with a faint light, like the light of the Mingling reflected on the ocean, but the centerpiece, the largest jewel, had been like blood spreading on the water.

A violent image, but still beautiful.

It had been a statement, just like Nolofinwe’s own commission, only he had never been entirely certain of the extent of the statement involved. That it had been a defense of Feanaro’s superior craftsmanship was certain, and also a point it was difficult not to concede. The piece looked like a song given form, and it was difficult to tear his eyes away from it when it was in sight.

The rest of it, though - and there surely must be a rest of it - was less certain, and so for the most part, Nolofinwe left it quietly in its box.

Just this once, though, it surely couldn’t do much harm.

“If you’re still like this tomorrow, I’ll wear it then,” he promised.

Feanaro’s dark mood vanished for a moment before being replaced by new urgency. “We can’t wait that long! I have to be older again by tonight.”

Tension immediately reentered the room.

“Oh?” Maitimo asked with forced calm. “Did you see something concerning in your notes?”

Feanaro shook hs head. “No, but Pityo said Makalaure’s concert was tonight, and he said I couldn’t leave the house until I was back to normal, so I have to be back to normal by tonight, I have to.”

Maitimo smiled as the tensions slowly drained out again. “I’m sure he’ll understand, just this once.”

But Feanaro shook his head fiercely. “Atar always comes when he says he will,” he said firmly. “I have to do the same thing.”

“You can help me decode these if you want,” Curufinwe offered. “It would go faster.”

Feanaro hesitated a moment, but an encouraging smile from Nolofinwe sent off him quickly.

Nolofinwe looked after him for a long moment before turning back to Maitimo. “I hate to do this to you,” he said in a low voice, “but I do have other matters to attend to before the festival begins. If there’s nothing else I can do . . . ?”

“Of course,” Maitimo said. “Let me show you out.”

“Good,” he said, rising. “There’s a few things you should probably know . . . “

He explained his lies with a hint of guilt as Maitimo showed him to the door, but if Feanaro's eldest resented them, he said nothing of it.

He should at least say goodbye. He knew he should. He would be late to see Atar if he did, but Atar would never hold it against him, especially if he explained the cause.

He just - couldn't.

. . .

He hadn’t wanted to leave, exactly, but with both Feanaro and his sons pouring over the notes, Nolofinwe had little doubt the issue would be resolved quickly.

He simply preferred not to be standing right there when it was.

He had no idea whether or not Feanaro would remember what had happened. He wasn’t sure which alternative would be worse.

Either way, he would return to find things largely unchanged by his absence. He had resisted the urge to tell the king what had happened. They would have to if things persisted, of course, but he truly did not think they would, and in the meantime - it felt like a betrayal, as absurd as that was, to reveal Feanaro's joy at what could have been to anyone else.

Perhaps that was why as he dressed for the concert, he couldn’t quite help his hand lingering over a certain box.

It wasn’t quite what he had promised, but it was probably the best he could do.

And it was, after all, almost certainly the finest he owned. It was a shame to let a few complications keep it hiding in the dark.

. . .

(The concert is out in the open, great flocks of elves streaming through the festival streets to gather around the stage. Nolofinwe walks with his wife on his arm, waiting for the first golden note.)

(It is struck just as the Mingling starts. The light shimmers as it dances off the jewels on Nolofinwe’s chest.)

(For just a moment, through the crowd, he spots Feanaro, once more only a hand’s width shorter than Nolofinwe’s own height.)

(Feanaro does not approach him.)

(But his gaze catches on the dazzling jewels, and just for a moment, his half-brother smiles.)

#feanor #fingolfin #fic #silmarillion #de-aged

[jaehyunsuh]

nct ot23 reaction to: having a lazy day with their s/o

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE: OPEN

feel free to come to my blog and express yourself about everything you want, i would love to interact ♡

taeil

taeil

lots of hugs and cuddles!!

he would like to wrap you in blankets so you can feel warm and look fluffy.

he would like to put some music on (like in his vlog) and he would dance for you and make you laugh :(

he would act cute for you just because he feels like it.

he would be like a little kid because he would feel so happy to have a day just with you.

johnny

he would just be flirting with you ALL DAY!! even tho you are his s/o because he would want to see you be blushed and flustered the whole day.

he won’t stop holding you, he would snuggle.

kisses all over your face.

romcom movies.

makeout sessions.

lots of laughing.

he would probably tickle you just to annoy you and make you mad, that would make him happy.

taeyong

he would like to stay in bed for the whole day because he deserves to rest and so do you.

he would try to be cute and make breakfast and bring it to bed.

for some reason I see him doing gardening that day, talking to you about his plants and how he takes care of them.

he would play some of the of the songs that he has been working on and ask you what you think because your opinion ia the most important.

he would lay beside you and hug you like there’s not tomorrow.

he would leave soft kisses on your nose.

yuta

he would make you watch his favorite anime shows and movies and would passionatly explain his favorite scenes and characters.

for some reason I feel like he would become really open and talk about is trainee days and his memories in Japan when he was young.

he would insist on teaching you how to play football (or soccer, whatever you call it).

even if you are bad he would just smie and tell you that you are doing well.

he would give some passionate kisses out of nowhere.

kun

it would be such a perfect day for him.

he would pamper you like there’s no tomorrow.

for sure he would cook every meal for you and he would do your favorite ones.

for fun, he would make you help him bake cupcakes and you both would make a mess but you had a lot of fun while doing it.

lots of kisses while he laughs amd shows his dimples!!!

I also see him taking out board games and play with you for the rest of the night.

doyoung

kisses all day long !!

he would always be attached to you like there’s no tomorrow.

he would sing the whole day just to impress you.

I seem him look for some diy stuff on the internet and asking you to do it together:

he would probably make a mess and get frustrated but he would look so adorable :(

he would ask you to watch as much kdramas as possible. He would comment about them and be really excited about specific scenes.

he would ask you to help him redecorate his room as well.

he would just keep hugging you and telling you how happy he is for that day, the whole day.

ten

he would want you to pamper him and give him lota or affection.

he would act cute just for you.

it would feel limw you are taking care of a little kid because he just wants you to take care or him.

he would show you some dances that he choreographed and would interpret the for you to see what you think.

he would make you listen to some nice music so you can help him choose a new song to dance to.

he would teach you how to draw on his tablet and you would have so much fun while doing it.

jaehyun

having some alone time with you like this would make him be really affective.

he would want to cuddle on bed all day.

he would make you watch the most romantic kdramas or romcom movies.

he would definitely cook something for you, whatever you want he would do it.

he would teach you some recipes and he would laugh whenever you start to feel stressed because of the cooking.

he would teach you some songs on the piano, oh my god i’m soft.

soft and sweet makeout sessions!!

he would ask you to help him organize his vinyls.

he would play some of those while he shows you his favorite songs and albums.

winwin

he would be really happy to spend the whole day with you.

he would want to watch some nice movies and cuddle.

smiles all day !!

he would ask you if he can bring louis or bella over to play.

he would love to spend time with you and his pets and y’all would play for the rest of the day.

he would show you some dances that he’s been working on.

he would teach you some wayv choreography just for fun.

jungwoo

he woud smile for the whole day !!

he would spend saying “I love you”, “You are the best”, “You are beautiful”. Basically all the cute things that you can imagine.

he would want to cuddle.

pouts all the time when wanting something!!

he would attack you with kisses.

he would tell you to play some football and he would teach you some tricks.

by mistake the ball would hit you and he would kiss where you got hurt.

lucas

he would just show up with bella.

he would show you all the toys that he bought for her.

he would also show all the tricks that she knows now.

y’all would lay in the couch together and play a nice movie.

you don’t notice but lucas would atare at you with heart eyes all the time.

he would hug you all the time.

he would grab your face in between his big hands hands and kiss you like there’s no tomorrow.

mark

he would smile all the time because he would be able to rest plus spend time with you.

I feel like he isn’t into skinship that much but whenever you hug him, kiss his cheek and snuggle he would blush, smile and be really excited because he likes it when you do it.

he would like to do something chill like watching a movie or playing some board game.

the board would become wild and you would be a laughing mess.

rap battle out of nowhere because he wants to make you laugh.

he would also show some songs that he’s been working on.

xiaojun

he would be the cutest ever.

he would ask you if you want him to do anything.

he would cook, clean, whatever you want him to.

he would like to cuddle 24/7 and never leave your side.

he would take out his guitar and simg for you.

he would show you some songs he is learning.

later he would be the sweetest ever and would give you a romantic guitar lesson.

he would encourage you when you start getting stressed and would say that you are the best.

hendery

he would be so insanely happy about it.

he is always smiling but you have never seen him smile like today.

I see him wanting to take naps, and you would do it together and it would be ao cute.

after the nap, some cuddles and watching together because resting is the best.

after you make a mess in the kitchen trying to make lunch.

after eating lunch he insists that you play some videogames with you.

he would teach you and later you would spend the rest of the night.

he would laugh really laugh whenever he wins because you would be pouty.

renjun

the sweetest boy ever.

he would be really happy to have some time alone with you.

I see him wanting to try something new and fun with you so he probably would look how to do donuts or smth like that.

it would become really really messy.

when decorating them he would try to impress you and would make the prettiest donuts you’ve seen.

he later would bring out his drawing tools and would make you draw something.

he would also show you the works he has done before.

jeno

i’m just telling you that he is bringing his 3 cats because he misses them a lot and he wants you to also be with them.

he would love to see you play and interact with the cats.

you would later lay on the couch with the cute cats while watching a movie.

he would look at you and admire you, thinking how important you are to him.

he would play with your hair softly and later would leave little soft kisses on your cheeks.

haechan

he would hugh you really really tight like there’s no tomorrow!!

he would kiss every parto of your body that’s possible.

he would tell you the corniest flirting jokes ever just to make you smile.

to make things more fun he would pretend that he is mad or jealous over something.

you would become a little upset and you would pout.

when you realize he it’s just joking you two would bicker a lot and he would be living for that!!

later at night he would want you to play some videogames together.

jaemin

he would be so freaking happy and just with the most beautiful smile for the whole day.

he would hug you and hold you in every way and position that’s possible.

he would pamper you for the whole day, you are his baby and he feels like you deserve it.

he would carry you all over the house he is being clingy and feels like it.

he would be around with his camera all the time!!

he would take the cutest pics of you while you are distracted.

later he would convince you to do a little photoshoot and you two would take the cutest and most romantic pictures.

yangyang

he would want to have fun with you on this day.

you would be there, chilling in bed and trying to watch a movie and 3 seconds later there’s yangyang jumping in bed.

he would beg you to play videogames with you.

he would become competitive and start moving you and taking the remote of your hand. You two would just be a laughing mess.

later he would ask you to some weird tiktok challenges that he found and you’ll spend the rest of the day laughing because of the mess you two are.

shotaro

he would be so excited to be with you !!

he would be the cutest ever and he would just spend the whole day telling you that you are the best s/o ever.

he would like to show you his gaming skills so he would make you play his favorite video game.

he would be nice and would lose on purpose just to see you smile.

he attempted to cook dinner but sadly it burned a little bit but you said it was okay and he felt happy :((

you would convince him of showing you some dance and some of the old tiktok dances he used to make........

sungchan

for some reason I see him wanting to do something different on that day with you.

maybe doing a puzzle??? or playing something like just dance.

while playing just dance your tummy’s would hurt of how much you are laughing.

he is kinda shy but on that day he would open up and talk about his feelings, his trainee days and your relationship.

he would feel so happy to have some free time with you.

chenle

he would want you to take care of him.

he wanta you to pamper him like there’s no tomorrow.

he would tell you that you need to do it because later he would have busy schedule and you will regret it.

he would be so cute and adorable all the time like he has never been before with anyone else.

he would even do some aegyo because he is happy that you are there.

he would 100% bring daegal around.

you two would spend hours playing with daegal🥺

jisung

he would be so insanely excited for this day, his cheeks are about to explote !!

he pretends like he doesn’t like skinship but as soon as you arrive he would instantly go to your lap you can play with his har and give him kisses.

he would feel like doing some diy too!!

he would like to do bracelets for each other because he liked doing it with chenle before.

you would compete on who does the cutest braceltes and dream members would be the judges through the group chat.

just to tease jisung they would choose you as the winner.

jisung would be a little grumpy but you kiss his cheek and everything goes back to normal lol.

he would show you some choreographies that he has done and wants to post in the future.

you would cheer for him really loud, making him blush but he is feeling happy.

#nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct 127 reactions #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fluff #wayv reactions #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #wayv fluff #boyfriend nct

[dialux]

bring on the fire, bring on the storm

Written for @aspecardaweek! I meant to put this up for either Day 1 or 2, but time flew past me. This fits into my Findis fic series, and is a very... roundabout exploration of how being aroace can affect your life if your dad’s the only person to have two marriages, I suppose?

...

“They are searching for you, little one.”

“Let them search,” says Findis coldly. 

For all that Findis is young, and that Tirion is at peace, she knows her politics well. Rumil had spoken strenuously against Finwe’s remarriage, and he remains one of Feanaro’s strongest allies. Findis- eldest daughter of Indis, first child to bring two divided people together- is not one of his charges, and never will be if Indis has her way. They both know this.

“Your father,” says Rumil slowly, before heaving a great sigh. “Your father is a great man, but he sees the world through his own eyes.”

“A king cannot choose to be half-blind.”

“And yet he is the king we chose. Envinyasse-” Findis does turn at that, levelling such a look at Rumil that he steps back, “-Findis, then. Findis: he is a good king, and a good father besides.”

“He does not understand me.”

“Have you allowed him to?” 

“I am not Feanaro.”

“Feanaro was very young when he met Nerdanel,” Rumil acknowledges. “But then, so was Finwe when he met Miriel. He only wishes for you to feel that joy as well.”

He sounds like he thinks she needs consolation. But Findis has not wept for her father in many, many centuries.

“My heart is my own,” says Findis. “Go to my father and tell him that I’ve given it to the sea, and shall not return until he learns that I’ve my own thoughts, my own loves, and my own mind.”

“You’re leaving?” asks Rumil, startled.

“I will not stay in a home where I am not heard,” replies Findis, and draws the hood of her cloak over her head, and starts walking.

...

Findis is the eldest child of Indis and Finwe. She is the eldest daughter, and she represents, more than any other, the whole of that truth: it’s an open secret through Tirion that she is meant to bind herself to another high lord of the Noldor, to fall in love with him, to bear him children with shining eyes and starful beauty. To heal the rift caused by Miriel’s death, in the only way that she can.

It’s the greater pity that Findis refuses.

...

How did you know? she asks, once, desperate for advice. 

Feanaro, hot in the throes of his love for Nerdanel, smiles at her. ‘Tis not some difficult tapestry to weave, Nesace. You will find one for yourself, sooner or later.

And if I do not, she thinks, but does not say. If I never find anyone- if I never wish to find anyone- what then?

But she is named Envinyasse for the healing she is meant to bring. She is named Envinyasse for the bridge her father wished her to become, and that bridge is made up of Findis finding someone to love, and she was never asked, not once, whether this is a task she wishes to complete. Whether this is a task she can complete.

...

The sea is cold and silver, and Findis lets her rage run out into its rippling waters. She spends many years there: composing songs, sharpening knives, studying her own fea. Though she is not hiding from her family, she also refuses all her parents’ summons back to Tirion: if she returns, Findis will have to explain why she left, and that will be impossible if she does not have the words for it. 

She explains as much to Lalwen when she comes to fetch her. 

“And so you’ve spent a decade trying to find those words?” asks Lalwen, spearing a mollusk on a knife. Sand wraps around her braids, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered. “That is... pedantic, even for you.”

“I also wanted to yell at Atar,” says Findis. “I didn’t think he’d appreciate that either.”

“Well. He was- beyond- his authority, last time.” Lalwen waggles her eyebrows. “Amme told him so, after Rumil came back and announced that you’d left to the sea.”

“Did she?” asks Findis, startled.

Indis prefers to let them fight their own battles. She always has. For her to rebuke Finwe- to publicly rebuke Finwe- 

“And then Aro and I spent years scouring the beaches for you. You couldn’t have chosen somewhere further south?”

“I was furious,” says Findis plainly. “Do you think I would have calmed in the warm waters of Alqualonde?”

“I don’t think you’re calm now.”

Findis checks herself, and then relaxes the painfully stiff arch of her spine. “I apologize for the trouble I gave you and Arafinwe.”

Lalwen waves it away. “It gave us an excuse to leave Tirion. Though last I heard, Feanaro’s back in the city, and Nolo never left, so...”

“Let’s hope Tirion remains standing, then.”

“Precisely.”

After a long moment, Lalwen casts the mollusk in the flames and turns back to Findis. “You must return,” she says. “Findis. You cannot while your time away here. We need you. Someone needs to talk sense into Feanaro, and keep all those children from burning the palace down, and stop Amme from fretting to death. I tried, you know, for a year? And then I decided I’d rather spend the rest of my life searching for you. They’re all insane, and exasperating, and- and- and Aro’s in love, did you know that? Aro’s in love, and my fourth betrothal fell through, and I cannot bear staying in Tirion without someone tempering them, I cannot!”

Findis stares at her, and then laughs. "It’s been a busy decade, then.”

“Findis-”

“Fine, yes, I’ll come back to our wretched family.” Findis reaches out a hand and tangles it in Lalwen’s own, ignoring the stickiness of the mollusk on Lalwen’s palm. “For you, darling. For you and no other.”

...

She returns, and she never speaks on it to her father again, but it is quite clear that he has been ordered by her mother not to discuss it. It’s a tenuous kind of peace, but Findis’ life has been built on such peaces all her life, and she’ll take what she can get.

...

This is the truth at the end of all things: Finwe does not understand her, and never will. Findis does not hold that wholly against him.

Not wholly.

...

Not until he chooses Feanaro over all of them. Not until he proves himself incapable of even the dregs of understanding that Findis had offered him.

...

Later, Findis does not remember all that she screams. Finwë shouts back to her, though, and they are matched in their fury; they are matched in their ugliness, and their cruelty, and their knowledge of the others’ intimate, tender spots. Findis does not remember all that she screams or all that is screamed at her. But she remembers, well, that Finwë still leaves.

...

The stairs up to Finwe’s study are long and steep. He’d once told Lalwen that he’d constructed it so to cool the tempers of any petitioners who wished to speak to him in haste- and, if nothing else, it would leave them breathless enough for Finwe to offer tea and a kind smile, bleeding off the worst of their rage. Findis remembers that now.

But no stairs shall serve to temper the worst of her fury. Not after all that has happened.

The door is closed. Findis opens it, steps inside.

“Atar,” she says.

Finwe, busy writing a letter- to Nolofinwe; that stamp atop the page is the blue of Nolofinwe’s house- looks up. “Findis,” he says. “Oh, good. I needed someone to send this letter to your brother.”

Findis clenches her jaw, and deliberately misunderstands. “I am not currently in contact with Feanaro.”

“It’s to Nolofinwe, not Feanaro.”

“Why would you need to send a letter to Nolofinwe?” asks Findis coolly. “You shall see him soon enough. It is Feanaro who is banished.”

“I shall be accompanying Feanaro,” says Finwe slowly.

Something cracks- the windows, giving way under the howling pressure of the wind outside. Findis does not snarl, but it is a close thing indeed. Finwe shifts uneasily, and Findis tosses her- loose- hair out of her face, baring her throat: the throat that Feanaro cut.

“To the edge of Tirion?”

“To Formenos,” says Finwe. “Where he shall live, with his sons and his-”

“-and no other,” says Findis harshly. “Because you shall not be going. Let his sons go with him- I will not stop them- but you will not be accompanying him, not when he held a sword to your son’s throat-” when he held a sword to my throat, she thinks furiously, “-and threatened to cut it!”

“He was angry.”

“And now I am angry.”

“Findis.”

“But my anger has ever been the dross to his gold, hasn’t it?” Findis smiles like a snake: toothless, venomful. “None of us shall accompany you. Do you understand that?”

“I understand your rage,” says Finwe calmly. “I shall not ask you to send your followers into banishment. Of course not.”

The smile widens. “My followers? I wasn’t speaking of them- of course I wouldn’t ask them to go. I was speaking of your family. Of Nolofinwe, yes, but also Lalwen, and Arafinwe. I was speaking of your wife.”

“My wife,” echoes Finwe, as if he doesn’t comprehend what she’s saying. Then he does, and his eyes go cold: the first time, in a long time, that he’s truly seen Findis. That he’s paid as much attention to her as he has to his fair, fair, fair eldest son. “Indis has said she will not accompany me?”

“Does it hurt?” asks Findis. “Does it hurt you, to be so misunderstood?”

“I will explain-”

“No. The time for explanations has passed.” Findis smiles, mirthless, at his open mouth. “Is that not what you said to me that day? That day that you told me that you’d rather I were chained to another elf than alone, that day that you told me that a spouseless life akin to another death-”

“-you cannot hold grudges from centuries past-”

“-I’ve never been enough for you,” she says, quietly, coldly, furiously. “But I thought Nolofinwe might have mattered more to you.”

Finwe rocks back, looking like she’s slapped him. “I did not mean- I do not mean-”

But Findis has no desire to hear his justifications. She narrows her eyes and speaks over him.

“You claim to be the beloved of the Valar,” says Findis harshly. “But it was they who mandated that our marriage bonds must remain exclusive. Tell me, Atar, shall you ask for a third wife now? Shall you go to the Valar and ask for an obedient one, who shall follow you into strife as quiet as a shadow, who shall love you as if the Mingling sets upon your shoulders and the stars wheel in their orbits as per your pleasure, who shall bear you more children, faithful children, quiet and dainty and unassuming and stupid as the ones you wish your living children to become!”

She is shouting by the end, unpleasantly loud. Her face is flushed and her hands are trembling. Her eyes are burning.

“I am your father,” says Finwe, but he is angry now: Findis has made him angry now. Feanaro holding a sword to Nolofinwe’s throat had not made him angry. All of Feanaro’s insults and slights to Finwe’s wife and queen had not made him angry. But this- this- has lit a flame in Finwe’s gaze. “You do not speak to me that way.”

The wind is howling outside. Findis reaches for it with her fea, hands whitening on each other until the bones creak.

“I have waited all my life for your love,” Findis forces out. “But all I have received is your disregard. Over, and over, and over again.”

“I have always lo-”

Findis’ hands clench into fists. The windows crack, glass shattering inwards, and the wind howls as it spills into the room. Finwe flinches. But his will is strong too; the wind ruffles through the papers of the room, but it does not throw him end over end.

“These answers cannot be sought by petitioning the Valar,” says Findis. “You cannot resolve this by asking them for aid. This is an elven problem and an elven decision. But then, when have you ever accepted your mistakes, Atar? When have you- ever- once- claimed- responsibility?”

And now the wind is a flood, snatching at Finwe’s clothes, tearing at his hair. 

He stumbles, once, and then he moves, too, a song of silence and stillness and calm from his throat, and Findis is so taken aback by the sheer power of it- she’d forgotten how powerful Finwe could be when he puts his mind to it- that she is thrown into the door from which she entered.

She lands on her knees.

The wind goes silent.

Finwe says, into the yawing silence, “I forgive you for your lapse in judgment. I understand- tempers are running high- but your brother needs me. Just because I go to Formenos does not mean that I do not love you, Findis. Understand that.”

Findis looks up at him, and Finwe pales at her expression.

“There can be no love without understanding,” she says. “There can be no love without effort. Understand that.”

She lifts her hands, rolls her wrists, and her song surges like a river swollen with snowmelt, like the sword had leapt to Feanaro’s hands in a silver blur as he cut her throat.

The shattered shards of window-glass fling themselves at Finwe. He shouts, once, and then strains his song against her own, as if puzzled as to why he cannot overpower her once more. But Findis is more powerful than him- she is trained in the art of using her voice. She is a Songstress, and she is his heir, and she is as full of rage now- full of a lifetime of rage- as ever Feanaro has been towards Nolofinwe, and she will not stop, because she is as the wind, and who has ever heard of stopping the wind?

But then Finwe turns, and they have exchanged places: he is at the door, and Findis is behind his table, and his eyes are large, and there is blood spotting his once-fine robes, and the glass caught in his hair shines like the crown that he has abandoned-

He yanks open the door and flees.

Findis screams. She screams, loud and louder, and anything capable of shattering within the study shatters at it: inkwells, pots of incense, glass cabinets, the last vestiges of the window panes. She slips to her knees.

Findis does not weep.

(Fifty years later, when the world goes dark, she still does not weep. For six thousand years, for six thousand bitter, bitter years, Findis does not weep.)

...

A lifetime later, Finwe comes to her in her forest dwelling. He sits at her feet, and does not speak, not until she has finished whittling a little star-crowned bird for Elwing’s newest child and set it aside.

Then he turns to her, and he touches her wrists, and Findis lets him, heart twisting in her chest.

“Envinyasse,” he says quietly.

“That is not my name.”

“I named you that,” says Finwe. “But I never dreamed you to do- to do this.”

“Atar-”

“There can be no love without effort,” he says, and Findis goes as still as a windless tree. “There can be no love without understanding. I spent too long not understanding you: seeing what I wanted, hearing what I wanted.” He swallows. “Doing what I wanted.”

“And you’re here to fix that?”

He breathes deep, and then releases her hands, and sits back: as a pupil would, before a master. Findis barely allows herself to breathe.

“I,” says Finwe, with the resolution that had led his people to safety once, eyes bright as the stars hanging around them, “am here to listen.”

#findis #finwe #lalwen #my writing #silmarillion #aspecardaweek #the actual fight in the beginning of this fic is actually written but i feel like it works better as a more abstract discussion #literally everything that findis flings at him in their tower battle is a direct line from that though lmao

[theelvenhaven]

Reunions in Arda

Part 1

Vanifinwë x Fëanorians

5.3k words

Warnings: 

Strong language, 

Implied nudity, 

A/N: I changed around in which the news was broken to her! But tada!

* * * 

Exhaustion filled her as she sat atop the mare the elves of her brothers provided her and Nolofinwë. Upon their arrival to Arda, her brothers Pages greeted them, telling them to come and meet with the Fëanorians. With hesitation, Nolofinwë agreed, and Vanifinwë jumped at the chance. She needed to hear the explanation from her brothers on why her brothers did what they did. 

Perhaps even part of her missed them as well. Yet that factor would be decided upon, which would depend on everything they had to say for themselves. What they’d done was completely unforgivable, but she needed to perceive if they held a shred of remorse for what they’d done. Vanifinwë needed to see if her brothers were as heartless as they led her to think they were.

They did the ride in silence and it appeared she was not the only one who was unsure of what to say. Even as their settlement came into view, it only left them somber and quiet. Vanifinwë couldn’t help but wonder how much time passed in their crossing that her brother’s already established houses. Actual houses...

Houses of stone erected in the elvish fashion, though the roads still dirt… A large building coming ever nearer. Grand and ornate as it could be, with few tents established for the artisans who were still there to complete other things. Eru... 

In reserve, she looked to Nolofinwë. The two exchanged a solemn glance. A glance they shared and were both determining they were thinking the same thing about the time passed.

Vanifinwë shuddered as another icy wind ripped through the air. It was nothing compared to the Helcaraxe. Her clothes were still too light even for this “warmer” temperature.

As they came upon the dirt and grass courtyard, and greeted by the sight of five of her brothers. A small fountain behind them, water trickled out, with shrubs around it… Workers bustled about outside working on Eru knew what. Quietly Vanifinwë let her eyes scan over them, Makalaurë stood in the center, clearly the one to greet and welcome them.

Tyelkormo and Curufinwë to her left of Makalaurë, and Minyarussa and Carnistir to her right… All dressed in thick tunics and heavy fur cloaks, each one looked positively warm and comfortable. She’d give anything for dry warm clothes, as it was cold enough her clothes never dried since their arrival from the Helcaraxe. Even though they’d ridden for some time now, the newly fashioned sun hidden behind clouds heavy and swelling with snow which threatened to fall upon them any moment now. 

“Uncle, truly it is good to see you.” Makalaurë began as they dismounted from their horses, turning her gaze to Nolofinwë who sighed, nodding at his nephew’s reception. The warmth in which he’d once have shown them he masked beneath a more stoic and hard exterior now, something they plainly expected. 

“I want to say the same, nephew. But I fear for the moment I do not share the sentiment. Not until I have further explanation as to what all has happened.” Nolofinwë spoke in an even tone, dampening his own anger that he felt swell over the gentleness in which Makalaurë spoke. Vanifinwë noted how none of her brothers seemed to have registered her presence yet, all too fixated in their nervousness upon their Uncle.

“I sure as the Void would love an explanation as well.” She spoke up with a fire in her voice. One that finally unleashed the heat of her hurt through her hroa and fea. She stepped up to be next to Nolofinwë, her head held high despite the shivers that had ripped through her. Surprise rippled through her brothers as their gazes fell upon her form. 

“Vanie! You came!” Makalaurë breathed out with surprise. He moved to step closer, in hopes to embrace her, yet he stopped short of getting any further as she sent a glare in his direction. One that made his blood run cold as their father’s fire blazed with contempt in her gaze, a look he had not seen since before their Atar succumbed to his injuries. 

“Don’t.” She fumed out, not up for any of his affections as she had for years to let the anger she felt over what they had done fester. Not just to her, but to the Teleri, to her Uncle and those who followed him. Makalaurë shouldn’t have been so surprised. Of course she’d be angry. It had been him and Maitimo who had given her the epesse Failendis, and it hadn’t been for nothing.

“Is that anyway to greet us, Vanie?” Tyelkormo scoffed as he tilted his head with a glare shot in her direction, silver hair spilling over his shoulder as he did so. Yet Vanifinwë was unmoved by his sarcastic reaction, only tensing her jaw at his words as if he had any right to complain about how she greeted them. 

“Forgive me if your betrayal hasn’t exactly left the warmest impressions upon me, brother. Where is Atar? And the rest of our brothers, Makalaurë?” Vanfinwe said. Her words dripped with venom as she referred to him as her brother. Nolofinwë’s hand came to her shoulder. He attempted to soothe and comfort her, not wanting for her to lash out any further and be thrown from the settlement. 

“Betrayal!? You are one to speak, dear sister.” Carnistir began out in a hiss as Curufinwë moved to approach. Were Vanifinwë not used to her own arguments with her Atar, she may have felt intimidated by her brothers. 

Yet she was unfazed. How many times had she and Fëanaro gotten into their arguments regarding politics and semantics? How many times had she argued with them or broken up their fights?

“You betrayed us! Refused to take up the oath! Yet you have the audacity to still follow and come here as if you have any right to be here!” Curufinwë seethed out in addition, stopping as Makalaurë held out his hand as he turned some to face his brother.

“Enough brothers...” Makalaure said in a breath, as Curufinwe seemed to relent at his brothers pressing. The tensions had risen at an insurmountable level already, and Vanifinwë had just arrived. Nolofinwë said not a word to address the fire that blazed between siblings. He turned his focus onto the questions Vanifinwë had asked them. Nolofinwe knew it was better to leave those issues between them, she without a doubt knew better than anyone on how to hold her own against them.

Though he confessed to himself, he feared just how far their madness ran. If harm would come to her should they all decide she was a traitor. Vanifinwë may have been their sister, but that didn’t change the fact times were undeniably different.

“Where is my brother? For I would like to speak to him.” Deciding that perhaps he had descended so far into deep madness that he wouldn’t greet him, and the other two Fëanorians were with him. Had Maitimo and Atyarussa bought into their father’s whims now as well? It unnerved him further to see the hesitation that seemed to fall upon the brothers. All five of them looked between each other and then to Makalaurë to answer for them.

“We shall discuss it, both on Atar, Maitimo and Atyarussa. First though, let us extend to you hospitality my Atar had lacked Uncle, sister.” Makalaurë stepped aside and motion for them to walk to enter the center building. Vanifinwë only budged when Nolofinwë did and followed alongside him and Makalaurë. 

“We can discuss it after you both have eaten and changed into something warmer.” Makalaurë insisted, yet Nolofinwë shook his head at his words as they paused in the grand foyer. Boots scuffed against the stone floor, and warmth that grew to be a luxury to them now filled the room. Vanifinwë shuddered with a sigh as she folded her arms over her chest.

“No, I will speak now on whatever it you have to share.” Nolofinwë began with a frown. Rather than argue, Makalaurë nodded at his uncle’s words.

“Very well, then come with me. Vanifinwë, Minyarussa will take you to where you can change and eat.” Yet she gave a severe frown, as she desperately wanted to go with him to know as soon as possible what was going on. Not ready to part from her uncle who she had spent the whole crossing with. For now, he was the only other family member she could confidently trust outside of her cousins. Nolofinwë sensed the obvious hesitance in Vanifinwe and with care placed his hand once more on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Go take the time to rest, I will deal with your father.” He said to her tenderly, yet there was firmness there to it. Vanifinwë knew better than to argue with him at this point. He had been the whole reason she had survived the crossing. As several times she had come far too close to losing her life, it was thanks to Nolo that she pushed so hard. At this, she nodded and allowed for her brother to lead her from the foyer.

Minyarussa led her up the staircase and down a hallway in unnatural silence. It felt strained and uncomfortable. It was something that was tense and morose, even in his gait and in his shoulders. Yet Vanifinwë decided against pressing and that the emotional distance she was sharing with her brothers was the best thing for her to do. 

The two came to a door down the long corridor, as Minyarussa motioned for her to open it. Still silent, and those pale blue eyes refused to meet with hers before he left her to enter and change. He didn’t even instruct on where to find, well… anything. 

Vanifinwë opened the door to find a well-furnished bedroom, and she shut the door behind her and locked it. A large double bed in the center of the room with heavy red duvets and soft looking pillows… Something that was so tempting for her to climb upon and just give into the exhaustion that filled her body. 

It had been so long since she had last been in a bed, yet she knew if she sat down now she’d never get out of it and would sleep for days… Maybe even weeks with as tired as she felt. Pressing on she moved to the dresser, one of a warm stained wood, opening it to find elleth’s clothing stuffed inside. Sifting through each drawer to find under garments, skirts, tunics and dresses of heavy material.

Wasting no time, Vanifinwë shed her cold and wet clothes. Letting them pool around her feet as she slipped her arms from the sleeves, before she kicked them off to the side. While so exposed without a fire in the hearth, gooseflesh riddled her skin as she shivered and shuddered. She hurried to slip into the warm fleece undergown, before putting on the gown that went over it. 

Finally, some warmth filled her as she had sufficient and dry clothing to trap her own body heat. Pulling her inky hair from beneath the confinement of her gown, letting it cascade down her back, breathing a sigh of relief, moving to look in the armoire closest to the bed to see if shoes were there.

Pulling it open, she found cloaks and silken gowns hung from hangers in a sea of red and black, with slippers arranged with precision at the bottom in varied sizes. For guests to pick the sizes that they needed. She chose a black pair that were about her size, before hurriedly closing the doors and moved to leave the room just as rushed. Fearful if she stayed any longer than she’d definitely go to sleep. 

But first, before she even considered it, Vanifinwe needed to know where her relatives were and to eat a meal. Vanifinwe hoped it was going to be something hearty and less like... bread. Her mouth watering at the very idea, though she turned her attention to find Minyarussa or the kitchen’s first… 

She walked back through the hall towards the way she entered. Vanifinwe paused as she looked over the tapestries that hung on the wall. With details of the House crest upon them, and details of the ships of the Teleri… Vanifinwe could not decide if they were there to glorify the theft or as a reminder of what they had wrought…

She hoped they were there as a solemn reminder and not for glorification, but for the lack of slaughtered elves and burning of their swan ships… Vanifinwë held her doubts. This did not help with the impression she was under about them for the time, though she wondered if that was perhaps what was so different about Minyarussa.

With a sigh, she moved to the stairs and away from the tapestries; she tried to put her focus elsewhere, wanting first to hear their side of things before she continued to assume. At the bottom she found Minyarussa. With patience he waited for her, standing stone still, and he glanced down at the floor.

Vanifinwë needn’t announce herself, as expectantly Minyarussa walked through the foyer once she descended. He led her into a small and private dining room, a word not spoken as he hurried from the room and through another door. A table standing in the center with just enough chairs for each of the Feanorians present, it was good to see that perhaps they all still did meals together…

Minyarussa had returned not even a few moments later without a sound, setting the bowl down carefully full of a warm stew before Vanifinwë took her place at it. She waited to see if Minyarussa would join her, but once more he left her alone to eat.

She wondered what indeed could’ve transpired to have traumatized him so deeply? Did the effects of the Kinslaying get to him, perhaps? Despite herself, she sympathized if he did, as the memories of what had transpired over the years plagued her every waking moment… Vanifinwë didn’t want to imagine what it would finally be like when she closed her eyes. 

Mindlessly she ate, not even savoring the way any of it tasted. All of her thoughts ran and spilled over themselves, full of questions in relation to her now estranged siblings. Struggling to ignore the slight dread that hung heavy in her stomach of the idea of being rejected further, even if she was furious with everything that they had done. 

Now that she had seen them again, she had the slightest sliver of hope that perhaps they were redeemable. Even if she knew her Atar were not, though, that would be the next hurdle. Dealing with her Atar, who seemed to have so blatantly disowned her before her brothers. She and Nolofinwë had yet to have been thrown from the dwelling, so perhaps this was a good sign. Or did he not mention her to him in fear of what would happen?

Vanifinwë didn’t even know what it was she would even say to him once she saw him… All she felt was just intense anger the more she thought about him and his treatment of other people.

It was as she was down to the last bites of the warm meal that Minyarussa seemed to reappear, waving for her to follow. In her rush did she almost throw her spoon down and feel her heart leap into her throat in anticipation of what was to come. Eagerly she followed right after Minyarussa, who rushed once more through the foyer and down another hall… This place was endless in the halls that it had already…

The two made several twists and turns until they came to another door, with Nolofinwë who stood just next to it in silence. A worried expression on his face. This did not settle the nerves that she felt. Nor did he turn to face and greet her as Minyarussa opened up the door, revealing all four of her brothers that sat in solemn silence. 

Without a word, Vanifinwë moved to take her place in the closest chair to the door. Her eyes ran over all of their figures. Makalaurë stood still and to the left of her, leaned against the wall, looking at the floor. His arms folded over his chest. Silken black hair shielding part of his face, so his expressions were unreadable. 

Carnistir, just across from her on a settee, leaned back with his brows furrowed deeper than usual, though she couldn’t tell if his face was any redder. With the orange glow of the hearth- to their right- exaggerated it, and Curufinwe was just next to him with a tall glass of wine in hand, as he stared Vanifinwe down intensely. With Tyelkormo, who paced behind them with Minyarussa just behind her… Though there was an addition to the room.

Tyelperinquar… A face she definitely hadn’t seen in ages, it felt like. One that she always surprised her. As Tyelperinquar chose not to follow Nolofinwë and herself, considering he took no part in the Kinslaying despite being present for it. 

“Where are Maitimo and Atya? And Atar?” Vanifinwë began, the first to break the silence, leaning back in her chair as she crossed one leg over the other. Watching as Makalaure moved from his place on the wall, 

“They are not here, Vanie.” He answered with simplicity, and with a heavy sigh which made her furrow her brows at his words. She watched them all with suspicion as tension filled the room. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as Vanifinwe thought.

“Well, where are they, Makalaurë?” She pressed her voice still even, despite the dread that filled her stomach, for whatever the answer may be. Makalaure ran a hand through his hair, deep blue eyes transfixed on the hearth before him, unable to face his sister.

“Morgoth captured Maitimo some time ago.” Makalaurë began and at this Vanifinwë felt the air leave her lungs as she sat up with abruptness. Her heart dropped into her stomach with a heavy thud. She stared up at him in utter disbelief, 

“How? Why!” She pressed harder, panic rose in her chest and made its way into her voice. Fear all but consumed her, for the words that may follow and say that he was dead… Her sapphire blue eyes raced to scan her brothers, who all looked away from her, including Curufinwe. 

“He had agreed to meet with Morgoth, after the Dark Vala claimed to surrender a Silmaril… Yet he was told to come alone. Maitimo brought a small embassy with him, despite the request. When he had not returned and we went and searched for him… We found the whole embassy slaughtered, but Maitimo was nowhere to be found.” Makalaure spoke in monotone, numb to the words he was speaking, chills running down Vanifinwë’s spine as she listened to his words in absolute disbelief. 

Tears welled at his words, in her desperation trying to swallow them back at the news he had given her. They spilled over despite herself, and she brought a hand to wipe them away as she no longer could look at her brothers. Devastated for her eldest brother… There was no telling what he was suffering with. If he was still alive. But Vanifinwë didn’t know if she was prepared to hear otherwise. Though that begged to question what happened to Atyarussa…

“And Atyarussa? What happened to him? He is not with Morgoth too, is he?” She asked as she sucked in a sharp breath, unable to help herself. Yet no one said a word just yet, allowing Vanifinwë a chance to express herself before they moved onto the next wave of bad news. Tentatively, Makalaure moved to place his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as she cried. 

This time Vanifinwë didn’t distance herself from her brother, taking it as the emotion swelled through her chest painfully. Vanifinwe sniffled and wiped her face over and over again, before Carnistir leaned over with a handkerchief for her to use. 

With care she took it from him and dabbed her face with a heavy deep breath. Nodding as they waited on a signal from her to continue. Though the rest left the sole job of breaking this horrid news to Makalaurë. To tell her what had become of Atyarussa, not that they were a great help in telling her about Maitimo. With a heavy sigh, Makalaurë moved to kneel next to his sister, hand reaching for her small one to hold.

To which she let him take, gripping him in return. There was a long pause, Makalaurë opened his mouth to start, but then second guessed it.

“Makalaurë… what happened to Atyarussa?” She pushed in a whisper as there was an audible gulp he made at her question. Before he spoke, sorrow visible in his eyes,

“Morgoth had not captured Atyarussa.” He began in a low and monotone voice. Makalaure kept it even and refused to meet her gaze as he looked at her hand. Not a soul moved or continued to clarify, leaving Vanifinwë to squirm some in her chair. Heart thudded hard in fear of the words he’d speak next.

“Vanie… Atyarussa was killed.” Vanifinwë inhaled a sharp breath as she brought her hand to her mouth. The sob that left her made them all wince at her response. 

A sharp pang of hurt seared through her, feeling into the very depths of her fëa that her brother had died. It was horrendous. If only she had convinced him and Minyarussa to have stayed with amillë… 

She felt Makalaurë move before he pulled her into him for an embrace. Her head resting against his shoulder while her body shook with heavy sobs. 

Time ticked by, with Vanifinwë clutched snugly to her second eldest brother as she cried. Mourning the losses of her brothers, though her senses and wits came back about her once more.

“How..?” She breathed out, needing to know how it was she lost her brother, as she pulled away from Makalaurë to look at him. Yet still his gaze would not meet hers, and he made no move to speak to her. At this with teary eyes she looked to her siblings, none of which would meet her gaze. Vanifinwë expected for Minyarussa to exhibit such behavior, it was his twin. 

“It is not something you need to know, sister.” Curufinwë spoke up, breaking his silence. His voice quiet as he moved from his place on the settee and to the decanter set just next to Tyelkormo- who had stopped pacing. Vanifinwë was just about to argue,

“Tell her Uncle.” Tyelperinquar spoke up with suddenness and pulled everyone’s attention to him. Bright blue eyes bored into Makalaurë with intensity. Though he was not looking at his nephew, he could feel the gaze on him. Still, he hesitated, and if it could, the anticipation alone would kill her.

“Did one of you do it?” Vanifinwë asked at their intense hesitation. It was the only thing that made sense. Everyone in the room seemed to tense up at her words. At this, she ripped her hand from Makalaurë’s. This prompted him to stand back up and move away from her, 

“I will not repeat myself. If you cannot give me an answer, I will ask Nolofinwë, as I’m sure you told him.” Vanifinwë was correct to have assumed that they had told him, yet it did nothing to ease the mounting tension. Nor bring her that much closer to an answer as the silence continued to blanket over the room for several minutes. Her patience wore thin.

“Atar did it.” Minyarussa answered her and ripped the entire world right out from under her. Vanifinwë looked to her brothers for confirmation, yet again their gazes transfixed elsewhere. Regret clearly plastered to their faces. 

“He did it!? How? Tell me now!” She asked as she stood from her seat with utter disbelief on her face, Vanifinwë’s voice growing louder and laced with fury with every word. 

“He set him on fire. It came during the burning of the ships at Losgar.” Minyarussa spoke up again with bitterness, and a bolt of anger shot through her at his words! All she could see was red,

“It was an accident.” Curufinwë corrected with quickness, yet Vanifinwë scoffed out with a sneer.

“Tell me, Curufinwë, how you accidentally set your own fucking child on fire!” She countered in fury. There was no excuse. The man she had once called her father, she could view him like that no more. He was simply her sire, and that was all he had been good for. Any memory that they shared, well it was in the past now. That Feanaro was a different ellon compared to the one who wrought chaos to almost all the Noldoli and family.

“He didn’t check the ships, Vani-“

“Do not call me by my Ataresse! I will not associate myself with someone so vile any longer!” She hissed out and interrupted Curufinwë, with her nose wrinkling as she sneered, making the freckles on her face wrinkle. 

“Vile!? You have some nerve to speak!” Curufinwë rebutted, slamming his glass onto the table with the decanter set. Making it rattle with delicate clanking, the glasses threatening to tip off the table and onto the hardwood floor.

“Atar!” Tyelperinquar added at Curufinwë, which warranted him being ignored.

“How do you not fucking make sure all of your sons are present!!!! How many years has he been a father of 8!? Yet you excuse it!?” Her voice grew louder in almost a holler, her hands moved with grandiose as if it would further get her point across. A fiery glare aimed at her brother, who had turned fully to face her, returning the nasty stare. 

“Perhaps you should’ve taken the oath and joined us since you could’ve done better sister. Yet you are a traitor to this family!” Curufinwë hissed back out in return. 

“A traitor!?” Failendis began, “I am a traitor?”

“Yes you are, you have no right to even be here. You are not family, not even Atar considered you to be so-“

“Enough Curufinwë!” Makalaurë piped up in swift defense of his sister, not about to tolerate his brother disowning her further just as Fëanaro had.

“You know who the fucking traitor is, Curufinwë? Fëanaro! Because of his oath, he slaughtered innocent elves! Killed our brother! The other captured and Eru knows what his fate is! He stranded his followers and left them to cross the Helcaraxë! Yet I am the epitome of betrayal!?” Failendis continued in a shrill voice at her brother. This prompted Tyelperinquar to move from his spot in the room to approach her. Highly aware that if he did nothing, it would only continue to escalate.

“Have you descended into madness as far down as he has!? Are you so much like him you too will do the same!?” She hollered out at him, Failendis’ voice had grown high in pitch and her throat feeling sore from how hard she was yelling. Conveying all of how she was feeling to him! 

“You glorify him! All of you! Even in the shit he’s done! I have seen your tapestries and have prayed to Eru to give you the benefit of the doubt! Yet you are just like him! In the worst way!” She yelled not just to Curufinwë but to rest of her brothers, 

“Learn to have some respect for the dead dear sister!” Curufinwë hissed out. A scoff of bitter amusement left her throat at his words!

“So he is dead? Oh, how fitting it is. Considering everything he’s done, may Mandos punish him harsh and justly for the ruin he’s brought!” 

“Watch your tongue!” Carnistir growled out and stood from his seat as well, Tyelperinquar placed his hands on her shoulders to soothe her. Failendis didn’t pull away from her nephew.

“I will not! I will speak my mind on this matter and you will say nothing! For you know nothing of betrayal or hardship if you think a simple no to an oath is traitorous!” She screeched out to him in response, 

“He didn’t even release you from your oath, did he? Even now you all are forever to do his bidding! While he avoids everything he has done!” Failendis continued in utter disbelief,

“It is the least we can do as his children! Unlike yourself!” Curufinwë continued with harshness, his voice sounded like their Atar’s. Leaving many in silence over the tone and pitch and sent chills down their spines as it sounded like they were listening to their father.

“At least I am not a selfish maniac who took everyone on a fruitless mission over some fucking rocks!” Failendis rebutted in haste to him. Truly, she had already loathed those gems when she lived in Valinor. She watched what it had done to him. Now she definitely despised them.

“It is not just for the Silmarils! It is to avenge our grandfather and now our father!” Carnistir added, as his face turned redder as he scowled severely. Going to his father’s rescue and Curufinwë’s aid in defending him, since Fëanaro was not there to defend himself.

“Do you really think I would’ve avoided the oath if that’s what it had been about? Fëanaro cared more about those stupid damn rocks than he did us! Look at the wreckage he has caused already! How many more will suffer because of his oath?” Failendis continued to press, while Makalaurë turned his attention to her this time. 

He knew the words she spoke of holding some weight, though it did nothing to soothe any of the anger in this room. It was only making things so much worse. 

“Va- Failendis… I know you are grievously upset. It is reasonable, you’ve been through much these last several years. For now… Let us separate and have time to let everything settle.” Makalaurë began, neither was going to budge on their views. That it would lead to more severe things being said, and that Curufinwë would certainly never forgive her if it kept up. 

When for now they should cherish not only their own relationships and having each other, but their sister as well. Failendis had survived the Helcaraxë, and she had come with Nolofinwë to see them. It was one fewer sibling to worry about being in harm’s way…

“That is an understatement Makalaurë, please do not undermine the struggles that Fëanaro forced upon us.” Curufinwë said nothing in rebuttal, he scoffed at her words.

“I am sure, and I apologize… For now, how about some rest? I’d imagine that was something that wasn’t afforded on the ice.” Failendis sighed at his words with a nod. After having sat down in such a soft chair, she couldn’t deny the exhaustion that now weighed heavily on her. Even if she now stood, sleep sounded good.

“Yes, some rest sounds ideal.” Failendis murmured, as she brought a hand to rub her forehead with another sigh, 

“Tyelperinquar take her back to the guest room-“

“You’re going to let her stay? Even after insulting Atar!?” Curufinwë pressed in disbelief! Makalaurë simply turned to give him a more severe look.

“We have lost enough as it is Curufinwë… Yes, I am going to let her stay. She is our sister regardless of what has transpired and what we have said here.” Makalaurë answered, before turning his attention back to Failendis giving her a faint smile. 

“We will speak later.” He said to Failendis with tenderness and a nod. Failendis took her leave with Tyelperinquar pulling her gently along. 

* * * 

tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @allinwonderlands​ @red-riding​ @eluriel-undomiel​

Quenyan names of the Finweans

Maitimo - Maedhros

Makalaure - Maglor

Tyelkormo - Celegorm

Carnistir - Caranthir 

Curufinwe - Curufin

Atyarussa - Amrod

Minyarussa - Amras

Vanifinwe, Failendis - Faeleth

Nolofinwe - Fingolfin

#Vanifinwë #Anamartindë #Failendis #Faeleth #Feanorian #Feanors Daughter #jrr tolkien #tolkien #the silm #the silmarillion #silm #silmarillion #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #one shot #one shots #headcanon #headcanons #original character #oc

[first-son-of-finwe]

Nerdanel & elfling!Finarfin

This is a little fic that I’ve had knocking about in my docs for a while but never published, but y’alls might like it so here it is :)

Mostly I just wanted some sister-in-law cuteness. Bride-to-be Nerdanel wanders the palace and finds little Finarfin all on his own, so of course it’s time for them to bond.

Featuring dickish Feanor, because of course it must.

Nerdanel wandered the rooms of the palace alone, carefully stowing each new room into her memory. It would be so easy to get lost in the seemingly endless labyrinth of ballrooms, libraries, dining rooms and hallways, and she often found herself wondering why the Noldorin royal family needed all of this space.

She oriented herself around the grand staircase, which served as the central point of the palace. So long as she knew where that was, she wouldn’t be lost.

Fëanáro had gone away with his father for the day. They so rarely got the chance to spend time together anymore, and so they had taken the opportunity to travel to the gardens where Queen Míriel’s tomb lay. Nerdanel had tentatively offered to join them, though Fëanáro hadn’t wanted to burden her with such a deeply emotional journey. He would take her separately, he said. Besides, it seemed to be almost something sacred between the father and son, a ritual that only they could fully understand.

The day was drawing to a close and Nerdanel found herself with little to do, so she decided to familiarise herself with the layout of the place which was now her home. Or at least, it would be for the next few weeks. Neither she nor Fëanáro intended to stay for long after their wedding, both preferring the quiet, remote settlement on the outskirts of the city to start their new family. It was two days’ ride from Tirion and not far from the home of Mahtan, and it was peaceful, spacious and tranquil, with a large forest on its border. Utterly perfect.

Nerdanel opened a new door and carefully peered into the room, and to her surprise, this one wasn’t empty. A small, fair-haired elfling sat on the floor surrounded by puzzle pieces, and a smattering of stuffed animals sat in a row, watching his progress. About half of the puzzle was done, and the elfling was holding a piece in his hand with his small brow furrowed, trying to figure out where it should go. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, blinking as he stared at the newcomer. Nerdanel smiled at him.

“Hello, little one. I haven’t disturbed you, have I?”

Arafinwë shook his head.

“May I come in?”

He nodded, sitting on his heels as he looked at her curiously. Nerdanel approached slowly, recognising the child as King Finwë’s youngest son.

“I’m Nerdanel, I’m…”

“You’re brother’s friend,” he said softly. “You’re getting married.”

Nerdanel smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I saw you when you arrived. You have pretty hair.”

Nerdanel laughed in pleasant surprise, taking a seat opposite the child.

“That’s very nice of you to say. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

Arafinwë shrugged.

“Everyone is busy. I wanted ammë to play with me, but she says she can’t because atar is gone and she has to do his duties. She gave me this…” he gestured at the half completed puzzle, before looking at her with a bit of hope.

“Will you help me with it?”

Nerdanel smiled, a little sad for the boy. A house full of family, yet no one seemed to be watching over him. 

“Of course I will,” she said enthusiastically, scooting closer to the puzzle and picking up a piece. In truth she was glad of the company, feeling a little alone herself in the endless halls. “You’ve done so much already...you must be very good at this.”

Arafinwë seemed a little more animated now, and he smiled brightly and pushed a small pile of pieces towards her.

“This is only my second one,” he told her. “I did another a week ago. There was a beach and a sunset and a big boat, I was doing it until Laurelin waned, ammë had to come and take me to bed.”

“Goodness,” Nerdanel chuckled, slotting one of her own pieces into the puzzle. “It sounds lovely. I like beaches too. They’re very beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Arafinwë nodded enthusiastically, then started describing one trip atar had taken the family on once, how he’d loved the waves and the smell of the ocean even though they were too strong, and Nolofinwë had had to come and rescue him from the tide. He talked about how Fëanáro hadn’t wanted to touch the water, despite Arvo’s attempts to try and involve his brother in the fun, so he brought him some water scooped into a shell instead.

The child continued to chatter, and despite his initial shyness, Nerdanel noticed that he was extremely talkative when listened to. Her heart warmed a little, and she found herself dreaming of the day when she could have one of her own. Even two perhaps, or three.

The two continued their work, chatting lightheartedly about this and that. Arvo wanted to know what Nerdanel’s favourite thing to do was, so she told him about her sculpting, promising to show him some of her pieces someday. Time passed, and they barely noticed the room slowly getting darker as the light of Laurelin faded and the faint, silvery glow of Telperion began to take its place.

Then the door suddenly burst open and Fëanáro walked in, still in his travelling cloak and clearly just returned. Nerdanel looked up, startled, before smiling widely.

“You’re back!”

“We just returned,” Fëanáro replied, sinking down beside her and kissing her forehead. “I went looking for you, but you were nowhere to be found. I must have done three laps of the palace!”

Nerdanel smiled brightly, smoothing his windswept hair. “I have been spending some time with your brother. We must have lost track of the time.”

Fëanáro then noticed Arvo for the first time, eyes narrowing a little as he took in the almost completed puzzle and array of stuffed toys.

“Oh good heavens,” he groaned. “He hasn’t roped you into this, has he? I’m so sorry. Aro, go away.”

Arafinwë’s face fell, and he murmured a soft “sorry, brother” and started to gather his puzzle pieces up. Nerdanel scooted over to Arvo and wrapped her arms around him, giving Fëanor a stern look.

“Oh no, don’t be mean! He hasn’t roped me into anything, I was very glad for his company. We had a lovely time, didn’t we?”

Arvo nodded, feeling a little pleased that Nerdanel had stood up to his brother. Few ever did. Fëanáro simply huffed.

“Well that’s charming, but I think it’s time for bed now, isn’t it? Go on, go find your mother.”

Arvo gathered his toys into his arms, murmured a goodnight to Nerdanel and shuffled out of the room. Nerdanel sighed.

“He is very sweet, you know. And he tries so hard to please everybody.”

“So he would have you believe,” Fëanor muttered.

Nerdanel grimaced, but decided not to pursue the matter right at this moment, sensing that there wasn’t much use. She knew Fëanáro’s family was complicated. She wasn’t going to dig into it in the days before their wedding. Instead, she changed the subject.

“How is the King? Did everything go as planned?”

Fëanáro’s face softened, and he sat down beside Nerdanel and took hold of her hands.

“It did. I am sorry that I didn’t take you...it is a long journey, and not a pleasant one. The gardens where she lies are not a joyful place. But I shall bring you someday, if you still wish it.”

“I do.” 

Nerdanel looked at her betrothed, pained to see the grief that he still carried. She wished she could make it all go away. And yet in the moments when they were together, laughing, exploring, learning, or simply watching the stars in silence...in those moments, nothing existed but the two of them. They were unburdened, simply two young Eldar marvelling at the beauty of the world.

Nerdanel leaned in and pressed her lips against Fëanáro’s, and she felt his hands in her hair, drawing her closer. In that moment she sent up a silent prayer to Varda, asking that they could remain in their little world, free of any burdens, for as long as possible.

#out of silmarils #nerdanel #finarfin #feanor #i don't love the ending but i never know how to properly end things lmaoo #ficlet

[elennalore]

Curufin’s Plan

Written for @feanorianweek Day 5: Curufin. I didn’t have any prompts in mind while writing this, but in retrospect, the prompt Manipulation suits rather well.

You can also read it on ao3

Curufin takes a slow, deep breath in and exhales. This is his new life. The air is filled with familiar scents and the weather is mild. Overall, it’s a pleasant awakening, like coming home. Well, it is a homecoming for him. He is almost ashamed to admit it, but Middle-earth never felt like home to him. It was a mission to accomplish. (He didn’t succeed.)

He is standing outside the gates of Mandos, and his memories of the gloomy place are already becoming hazy. He’s looking forward to the future, his mind is busy making plans. The past doesn’t interest him. Even in Mandos he was always planning what he would do when he finally was re-embodied. (He hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.) There were tapestries on the walls of his cell, showing him events of the world. He had studied them thoroughly. It was important to memorize everything that had happened. Only with that knowledge he could decide on the best action.

Nerdanel is waiting for him outside the gates, happy but also a bit wary. A pleasant surprise is that Celegorm stands beside her.

“You rascal, how are you released before me!” he exclaims, and then they hug, brothers and partners in crime.

Nerdanel takes him to her house; it’s a new one and does not bear any memories. She gives him a brief update on the situation, knowing what he wants to hear – she has given a similar briefing before, Curufin realizes. Caranthir has been the first of them to return; he lives a secluded life in the countryside. It sounds like he’s not changed. Celegorm came back next, and he has not settled down – he lives in the forests of Oromë like a wood elf, but comes every now and then to help Nerdanel. The twins are still in Mandos and so is Maedhros – and no one knows Maglor’s whereabouts.

“And my son?” he has to ask, although he already knows what the answer is. Celebrimbor’s fate has been the most horrible of them all – he is probably going to remain in Mandos for eternity. Nerdanel shakes her head, looking suddenly forlorn, and for a moment Curufin is overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. He should have never taken his son with him when he left Aman. But there’s no use dwelling in the past.

He needs a plan.

Before his mind has formed any real plan, though, people start to arrive at Nerdanel’s house. The word of his return has spread quickly. But these are not his enemies, as he had thought at first. They are elves who have sworn their loyalty to him, and they are coming back now.

And why wouldn’t they come? They have followed him to Middle-earth; they have fought alongside him. Some have died in the wars against Morgoth, some have died in Doriath, or even Alqualondë (not many because their power was superior). Like him, they have returned to a world that sees them as kinslayers rather than brave warriors they really are.

“Let it not be that way,” Curufin speaks. He’s not as masterful a speaker as atar was, but he has heard Fëanor speaking so often that he can try to imitate him at least. They have gathered around him in Nerdanel’s backyard, carrying his flags and pennants. Many of them see him as the heir of Fëanor, and he decides that they are not wrong. Caranthir or Celegorm are clearly not up to the task, anyway.

So his plan begins to take shape.

“We are those who defended Arda from the evil of Morgoth when the Valar did nothing. We endured harsh conditions and became more powerful because of that. We have been betrayed.” His words make the eyes of the elves shine like in the old times. They shout his name like a chant: Curufinwë, Curufinwë.

Oh, it’s just like in the good old days. The elves come to listen him again and again. The commotion makes the Valar of course nervous. One day, in the middle of their gathering, Námo appears.

I didn’t release you to start another civil war, Námo speaks inside his mind. There’s something in the presence of the Vala that causes pure terror in Curufin’s heart, the fear of annihilation, and he swallows a sharp comment he was about to say. But he manages to look calm, earning the respect of the elves around him. Námo’s appearance is nothing but beneficial to his cause. It’s a perfect time to reveal his plan.

“I’m going to rebuild Formenos.” His words are meant as much to Námo as to the crowd of elves. “Assuming the Valar allow me to rebuild what one of them has destroyed.” He turns to look at Námo’s menacing grey shape. “How is it, lord Mandos?”

Everyone is silent, waiting for Námo’s next words. Curufin already knows that he has won. The Valar claim to have no control over the life decisions of elves. Námo can’t withhold Formenos from him without appearing a hypocrite.

“Formenos is yours,” Námo agrees at last, and the elves surrounding Curufin break into tumultuous applause. They don’t hear Námo’s final words in his mind before the Vala vanishes without trace. I’m watching you.

Curufin doesn’t care, he’s already looking to the future. “You heard Mandos. Even the Valar can’t deny us what is rightfully ours! Every one of you is welcome to live in the stronghold of the Noldor. Together, we’ll start a new life there, with our own laws and rules.”

He pauses for a while. The place is haunted, Nerdanel has heard people say, but he’s not afraid of the ghosts of the past. Not when he can learn from them.

“The rule number one will be: No Ainu is allowed to step inside the gates of Formenos.”

#feanorianweek #curufin #my writing #feanorians #second chances #silm fic #silmarillion

[arofili]

If you are still doing the dialog prompts, I would like Elrond and Caranthir for 11.

(I tweaked the prompt a bit to fit the scene I had in mind!)

~

11. “We could get in big trouble for this,” Elrond whispered to his twin. 

“We’re always in big trouble,” Elros dismissed. “Don’t you want to figure out who this place used to belong to? Atar always gets so sad when we ask, and Atya...”

He trails off, but Elrond knows what he means. He wouldn’t know what else to call their Atar, but it still feels strange to name Maedhros Atya. He’s always been the more distant of their caretakers, only recently warming enough to show his softer side, and neither of them have the courage to ask him about the castle’s former owner for fear he’ll snap back to that cold, distant person he was before.

“Okay, fine,” Elrond relented, and crouched down to let Elros climb on top of his shoulders to reach the door handle.

He turned the key they’d stolen from the chamberlain in the lock, and Elrond held his breath as he heard it click open. Elros scrambled down and together they pushed open the door, at last entering the forbidden room.

A thin layer of dust coated every surface of the room, showing it had been undisturbed for years, and yet every item it contained was neatly tucked away in a bookshelf, on a desk, beneath the bed. It was sad, empty, lonely, but most of all it was orderly, in a way neither of their father figures ever were. The room was grand, bigger even than Maglor’s bedchamber, and blazed with Fëanorian stars on every inch of embroidery: curtains, bedsheets, tidily stacked robes. Elrond hadn’t known what to expect, but this was certainly not it.

He stared, taking it all in, as Elros prowled forward. He sneezed softly as dust tickled his nose, and for some reason it struck Elrond as wrong that the layers of years had suddenly been mucked up by his footsteps. And yet, he could not undo it, nor would Elrond dare hold back his gnawing curiosity any longer.

He stepped after his brother, peeking into drawers full of papers written in a neat script he could not read. The numerals he recognized, as well as the sign marking it as currency, and he squeaked as he realized just how much money whoever lived here had dealt with on the regular.

“Elrond,” Elros hissed, “look at this!”

Elrond turned to see Elros pointing at a strange device on a high shelf, a frame fit with several rods stacked with beads. He had never seen such a thing before, and had no idea what it was supposed to be.

“Who lived here?” Elros wondered. “They must have been the lord of this place, or—or something...”

“Could it be a guest room?” Elrond said uncertainly. “Look...that’s a dwarvish hat, on that stand. I’ve only ever seen Mae—Atya’s dwarf friends wear something like that...an elf wouldn’t have it.”

Elros gasped, pulling at the sleeve of one of the long robes. “That’s the Haladin symbol!” he exclaimed, only for Elrond to shush him. “But it is,” he insisted, quieter. “I remember, Ada, I mean our first Ada, he had a shield with that on it, from his ada... It’s a mortal thing.”

“Dwarves and mortals?” Elrond said, scratching his head. “And, I couldn’t read most of it, but there was a paper with some sort of treasury account, and it was so much money. We could’ve rebuilt Naneth’s tower with all that money...”

They didn’t often speak Ada and Naneth, especially not when their new fathers were around, but the reminder of them both, in this room, stirred something within him.

“Do...do you think...” Elrond began hesitantly. “Do you think...we know Atar and Atya, we know they stole us. And if they hadn’t burned it down they could’ve stole our old home. Do you think...they stole this place? Maybe from dwarves, or mortals. Maybe we’re not the first children they’ve...kidnapped.” Maglor and Maedhros were their fathers, they were, and they loved them, but—well, Elrond knew what else they were, too, even if he didn’t like to think about it.

There was a cough from the door. Elros yelped and hid behind Elrond, who stared guiltily up at...oh no. They were in big trouble, because the adult who had caught them wasn’t Atar...it was Maedhros.

“What are you doing here?” Maedhros rumbled. His voice was so, so very low, and always sounded rough and scary, like he had some mortal illness. But he was an elf, despite the mass of scars across his body, and elves didn’t get sick like that.

“We...we...” Elrond stammered, trembling.

Maedhros sighed, and Elrond realized...he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even that sad. He was...tired.

“You’re not in trouble,” Atya said, “though I think the chamberlain would appreciate it if you returned the key you stole.”

Meekly, Elros returned it to their father. Maedhros reached down to grasp his hand, hesitating before offering his cold golden prosthetic to Elrond. Not wanting to push their luck any more than they already had, Elrond grabbed onto it gingerly, still not all that fond of the inanimate touch.

Atya led them from the room, locking it behind him, and outside to a nearby balcony. It was a cloudy day, but a slight breeze blew from the north, running through Elrond’s hair and making him shiver. Elros clung to Atya’s hand, leaning into his warmth. Atya himself stood still, unaffected by the cold, and Elrond remembered Atar saying something about them having lived in a cold place before.

“Now,” Atya said, soft as his gravelly voice could manage, “would you like to tell me what you were doing in my brother’s room?”

Elrond exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his twin. “Your...brother?” he asked hesitantly. “That was Atar’s room? I thought...”

“No,” Atya said, looking out to the horizon, utterly still. “Not Maglor’s room.”

“You have another brother?” Elros guessed.

“No.” Atya looked down at them at last, and Elrond saw that his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I had...five others.”

“Five?” Elros gasped, as Elrond whispered, “Had?”

“You don’t know.” Atya smiled, the scar on his lip twisting his face into something that would’ve been frightening if Elrond didn’t know him well enough. “I suppose, before...they would have just called us ‘the Fëanorians.’ More than one, but not how many.”

“What were their names?” Elrond asked, before wincing as he remembered that Atar and Atya had so many names, and likely their brothers did too.

“There were seven of us.” Maedhros lifted up his hand, then sighed. “Right. I don’t have that many fingers anymore. Well, there were seven: myself, the oldest. Maglor. Celegorm. Caranthir. Curufin. Amrod. Amras.”

Something like dread made Elrond shiver. Those names...they were harsh, cruel. He thought he’d heard them before, not in the way Naneth and Ada had told him stories about their ancestors—the Haladin, Bëor’s folk, Hador’s line, Gondolin, Doriath, Lúthien—but in hushed tones, whispers of ancient evil. Like they’d spoken of the Enemy.

“Celegorm...?” Elros asked hesitantly. “Like...Celegorm who killed Naneth’s brothers?”

“He didn’t—” A shadow of pain flickered across Maedhros’ face, and Elros flinched back. But Atya did not fly into a rage, or even reprimand him. Instead he said quietly, “He did many things, but not that.”

“Will you tell us stories about them?” Elrond asked, wanting to know more about their uncles.

“Maglor is a better storyteller.”

“Atar won’t talk to us about the room,” Elros blurted out. “He gets sad.”

“The room...? Oh.” Atya grimaced. “Well. They are all dead, and he is sentimental. This castle, that room...they used to be Caranthir’s. The middlest of our brothers. He died in Doriath.”

Doriath. Dimly Elrond remembered his mother’s stories, though it was Oropher who told better tales, for he remembered those halls well. Doriath had fallen, assailed by enemies, and so Naneth had fled to the sea. He had always assumed those enemies to be orcs and other terrible things, but...Atar and Atya had burned down Sirion. Maybe they had burned down Doriath, too.

He didn’t want to dwell on that, not now. He needed to learn that other script, the other language that Atya and Atar spoke to one another, for he was sure Caranthir had been writing in it. If he could read those papers, those journals, the history of this place would unravel itself for him, he knew it.

“Did you love him?” he asked instead of some other, damning question. Because really, that was more important, if his atya had loved his brother Caranthir like he loved Atar.

“Yes,” Atya murmured. “I wish I had told him that, more, before the end.”

“I love you,” Elros offered, squeezing his thigh. “And Elrond does too.”

“Mhm,” Elrond agreed, clutching his other leg.

Atya smiled again, and this time he didn’t look nearly as scary. “I love you, too.”

#silmarillion #elrond #elros #maedhros #caranthir #feanorians #kidnap fam #silm #my writing #my fic #tefain nin #ask games #this...is probably not what you had in mind lol #i thought about a post-reembodiment fic but then this happened. oops #also this is long geez #ceridawn #answers #long post #love grew after between them

[lotr-fangirl]

Distracted (Curufin x Reader)

Pt. 1 (I guess??)

Summary:

Curufin has been distracted lately, and his brothers want to get to the bottom of it.

Pairing:

Curufin x Reader

Third Person P.O.V

There was a very important meeting in the House of Feanor. Every brother was there, except for one, Curvo. See, his brothers noticed he had been, well, rather distracted. He had been staring out of the window (which he has never done before in his entire life), daydreaming and making soft puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, now we all know why we have held this meeting in one of the least used rooms, and secluded corridors. Right?" asked Celegorm.

They all nodded their heads in agreement.

"Curvo has been distracted lately, even atar has noticed." said Maedhros agreeing with his little brother.

"So what exactly are we going to do about it?" asked Maglor

"The symptoms are daydreaming, staring out of a window, and looking like a love-sick puppy." Caranthir said.

"Curvo's in love?" asked the Ambarussa, with their faces already grinning like idiots.

"Yep." replied Celegorm.

"Who's the girl?" Maglor asked.

"We don't know for sure, but I suspect that it's y/n." said Maedhros.

"Y/n, as in our cousins Artanis and Aredhels best friend?" the Ambarussa asked.

Celegorm nodded.

"I mean, she's cool, popular, pretty and all, just how do we help Curvo approach her? I mean, the first time he saw her, he was already a nervous wreck and nearly got as red as our very own Carnistir." said Celegorm.

"Shut it." said Caranthir angrily, immediately turning red.

"Ok, back to the point." Maglor said exasperatedly.

"We need them to actually interact, not Curvo saying a two-letter word which is "hi" in case you didn't know." ranted Celegorm.

"We can put her in danger like pushing her off a cliff or something, and while in her crisis, Curvo will come in and save her, then blooms emotions between them, you know, typical fairytale love story, amil reads us to bed." Caranthir said smugly.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!!" Maedhros said, yelled.

"It might work, just not anything that life-threatening." Celegorm said agreeing with his brother as Maedhros looked at them in disbelief and that "you better not fucking to that" big bro look.

"We could just set them up or something, or we could ask Artanis and Aredhel for help." Maglor quipped in.

"You know what, let's just ask the girls the next time we visit them."

#silmarillion #lotr fandom #the silmarillion #curufin #curufin x reader #curvo #celegorm #maedhros #ambarussa #caranthir #maglor #jrr tolkien #tolkien #fandom #fanfic #silm fanfiction #silm fandom #silm fic

[onthesandsofdreams]

Loom & Thread

Fandom: The Silmarillion Characters: Caranthir & Maedhros Rating: G Summary: “Don’t listen to him. Do what you love Moryo, and I’m sure you’ll be the best at it.” He nods, grateful for Nelyo’s comforting words and his understanding; he’s always been the one that knew what to say, to make them feel better, no matter what. And for that he’s glad Nelyo’s the eldest, he is grateful for him, always will be. Two days later, Nelyo gifts him with cloth, thread, needles and other things he may need. A week later, Atar gives him a loom with a solemn look in his face, “It was my Amil’s,” his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “Nelyo spoke about your wants, so I figured you could use it. Treat the loom with care Moryo, and use it well.” Words: Notes: For Fictober-Event, prompt #3.- you did this? Warnings: None apply.

Read @ AO3

Carnistir prefers the loom and embroidery over the forge, over his mother’s sculpting too. It starts at a young age, at an age when most ellyn are running about and climbing trees, he doesn’t, instead, he grabs a shirt and needle and thread and makes a simple design.

It ends a little crooked, but he considers it a good first attempt. Being the son of his parents, he knows better than most that, innate talent can be nurtured and grow. So, that’s what he does. He practices on his things, little simple designs here and there.

When someone another boy asks about the embroidery in his tunic, he proudly declares they’re his. The other boy laughs, says it’s not something ellon do. His temper flares, pushes the boy into a mud puddle and stalks homes.

It’s Nelyo who asks – but then again, he always does – about it.

“I like it, I want to work on the loom and embroider.” He says, he does not pout. “A boy made fun of me.”

Nelyo, Varda bless him, simply puts his hand on his shoulder and smiles softly down at his brother. “Don’t listen to him. Do what you love Moryo, and I’m sure you’ll be the best at it.”

He nods, grateful for Nelyo’s comforting words and his understanding; he’s always been the one that knew what to say, to make them feel better, no matter what. And for that he’s glad Nelyo’s the eldest, he is grateful for him, always will be.

Two days later, Nelyo gifts him with cloth, thread, needles and other things he may need. A week later, Atar gives him a loom with a solemn look in his face, “It was my Amil’s,” his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “Nelyo spoke about your wants, so I figured you could use it. Treat the loom with care Moryo, and use it well.”

“Thank you, Atar, I will.” Solemn and serious he promises. He knows that his father treasures that loom. And another wave of gratefulness washes over him for Nelyo. Decides to make him something nice as thanks.

So, he throws himself at learning, discovers how fast hours pass him by with ease. He starts small, and as his skill grows, so do his works. Through it all, Nelyo keep bringing him things, his shirts that need mending (so he can practice), thread, beads and needles, lace, pen and ink for his designs and sketches and other things besides. He’s grateful for the confidence his brother has in him. Soon enough, he’s made a tapestry that atar hangs in the drawing room. A shawl for amil. But for Nelyo, he designs a shirt in deep blue with green, gold and silver designs that he’ll embroider on. A belt in the same design. And so, he starts and does so with care. Hides this particular work, doesn’t want anyone to see it until it’s ready, doesn’t want a word to reach Nelyo until he presents his gift. He’ll work on something for atar and amil, but that’ll come after.

He wonders through the market once Nelyo’s shirt and belt are ready to be embroidered. He seeks gold  and silver thread, beads in red, gold and black. Finds his treasures and hides them alongside Nelyo’s gift. And with care and a patience that – before he started working on the loom – he didn’t know he had, he works slowly. Every stitch is made with the utmost care, every bead placed in the right spot, one after the other. And his design comes to life in the blink of an eye.

Before he even declares his work ready, he inspects it three times. Runs his hands over the designs, makes sure the beads are placed correctly and in such a manner they shine in the light. Once he is completely happy, he wraps it in silk and adds a bow. He’ll give it to Nelyo in the morrow, it’s late, there’s no need to wake Nelyo over this.

The following morning, once everyone has left the table, he follows Nelyo to his work space. Nelyo prefers to work with clay, something that he never quite got, but then again, they all like different things. Creativity is something that runs strong in their family. And he speaks before his brother can dirty his hands.

“Nelyo,” He near bounces at the door of his brother’s work space. “Brother, I have something for you.”

Nelyo blinks, then his smiles. “Oh?”

He shifts, from one foot to the other. “Can you come into my room, I have a gift for you there.”

“Of course.”

He rushes to his room, pleased to see that Nelyo has followed, dives into his closet and retrieves the bundle he stashed there the previous evening. His brother sits on his bed, he offers the gift. “Here, for you.”

Nelyo smiles and opens carefully his gift. His brother’s eyebrows shoot upwards, he looks up and grins, “You did this?” He nods and Nelyo’s grin grows. He watches as his brother inspects first the belt, sees the careful way his fingers go over the embroidery and the gentle way they touch the beads, as if he were afraid of disturbing them. Nelyo lifts the shirt next and he watches as his brother repeats his actions with the belt. “You are gifted, little brother,” Nelyo finally says. “These are a fine pair of gifts that I will always treasure. The feather patterns are flawless, and the colors are well chosen. Thank you. I will wear them at the next formal dinner we attend.”

He grins at his brother, Nelyo never lies about these things, so he rests easy knowing that he has pleased his brother. Pride in his work grows. Now, all he has to do is design a shawl for ammë and something for atto. With that in mind, he starts making plans.

Nelyo, true to his word, wears his gifts on the next chance he gets. His brother looks great in them, with his pale skin and copper hair, the blues and greens he picked compliment him quite nicely and he resists the urge to bounce in excitement. It’s not princely to do so in public.

He’s thankful for his darker complexion when he overhears someone ask Nelyo about the shirt and belt, specially because the pride in his brother’s voice when he says, “Well, it was a gift. From Carnistir. Isn’t my brother quite talented?”

He stands taller than he’d ever done.

#fictober20 #maedhros & caranthir #caranthir #maedhros #feanor #the silmarillion fic #slice of life fic #pre canon fic #the silmarillion

[tieflingboi]

CR C2 Ep111 Spoilers

Big spoilers and I overshare some personal stuff ( mentions of abuse, queerphobia, the safe schools coalition and gay marriage debate in aus, discussions threats of bodily harm)  proceed with caution 

Okay so I have been trying to coherently understand my emotions and thoughts about Molly/Lucians return and I feel the need to dump my thoughts into the void so yeah 

Now I’m sure most of us are aware that its suuuuper unlikely that the person with Cree is going to be the Molly we knew, my personal bet is that its going to be a new person, not Lucian but a blank slate that from the momment they woke up Cree was there to be like “your Lucian and this is what you’re like” but who knows? Either way, i very much doubt Molly is in the driving seat. 

That terrifies me. I’m a sucker for angst, i eat that shit up but this is going to hurt me a lot. 

I’ve been joking for years that Taliesin made a character so hot it rewired my brain and now my body dysphoria tells me I need horns, tail and to be purple. But the thing is, I’ve spent the last few days thinking about how much Molly actually affected me and ooohh boy. 

So i started at Campaign 2, this was my first introduction into dnd. I was fresh out of high school and working in a sheet metal factory and fucking hating life. 

For the past 2-3 years I had been dealing with the onslaught and probably kinda traumatic shit that was the launch of the safe schools coalition as well as the same sex marriage referendum in Australia. I was this very queer kid who was struggling with abuse from home and then every time I turned on the news, or youtube, or social media I got adds about why trans kids were all abominations, or why gay couples were disgusting. I was an active member of my schools GSA ( i know we like to cringe at this stuff but it made us feel like we had some semblance of community so fight me all kids do cringy shit) and beacuse of this I had grown adults finding me on facebook and sending me threats, I lost count of the times I’ve had people say they’d R*pe the queer our of me or mutilate my body. 

All of year 12 english classes involved debates on whether or not I deserved rights. It's no wonder I stopped caring about school and got grades so low my ATAR wasn’t even a number. 

My family was unsupportive. And I had started working in a job that sucked everything fufilling out of my life. 

So I watch this show, and theres is bastard of a tiefling whos loud and colourful and so very very clearly queer and unapologetic. They go in adventures, they can fight for themselves and those they care about. They try to leave things better than they find it and they have the strength to meet the hate of others with a grin. Mollymauk fucking Tealeaf was everything i wanted to be, and still want to be. I’ve always used characters and escapism as a coping mechanism, and this was no different. I LATCHED onto this bastard. and when he died I mourned him life a best friend. I’ve still mourned him - fuck I waa crying about him like 2 weeks ago. But through fan culture and art he was able to live on which made easier. 

And now he’s back and I very doubt it will be him. As long as that body stands there will be hope we will get Mollymauk back but i doubt that that will happen simply from a narrative perspective. So that hope of getting him back will have to die. 

and I really, really don't want to have to mourn him again.  

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr ep 111 #mollymauk tealeaf