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imfromthemiddlekingdom · 6 months

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There’s been a persistent headcanon I cannot get rid of in my head. There’s been many contradictory statements on when Finwë and Indis got married and how old Feanor was when they did. We know Feanor married young and I don’t imagine Nerdanel and him wasted anytime to get going making babies unless Feanors fear of childbirth got to him due to his mothers death. But if we consider that elf’s are said to have other kids when the first child is grown or as close to it as possible and Nolofinwë was the second child of Finwë and Indis, there’s a chance that Maedhros is older or at least the same age as Nolofinwë. This means that at least four of Feanors kids are older than their aunt and uncles and the rest may be older than all their cousins added together. I’m just thinking of the dynamics between cousins if the Feanorians are that much older than them. We know Maedhros was close to Fingon in Valinor, Curufin and Celegorm was said to be close to both Aredhel and their Arafinwean cousins, it makes for an interesting dynamic if all of them were older than them.

If Maedhros was born around the same time as Fingons father their dynamic is all the more interesting. And since Celegorm is the third eldest he might be around Arafinwes age if this headcanon holds true, and that makes his friendship with both Nolofinwes daughter and the sons of Arafinwe all the more interesting. Although the most interesting may just be Caranthirs beef with elves younger than his younger brothers. Imagine a grown Caranthir glowering at 50 year old Aegnor or Angrod.

If Meadhros was born before Nolofinwë then his father name Nelyafinwë would be less of a pointed jab towards his uncle and more of Feanor reaffirming his own line of succession, but that could mean that Indis named Nolofinwë “high chieftain” in retaliation but I don’t want to think of her as that much of a petty person no matter how interesting that line of character development may be. Or if Nōlo was a bit older than Maedhros I can definitely see Feanor being that stupendously petty and aiming to hurt his new born infant brother who’s the same size as his son.

I think an AU where all seven of Feanors sons are closer in age to their aunts and uncles than their cousins would be really interesting, especially since we know how much each sons friendship with their cousins meant to them and vice versa inspite of the betrayal as Losgar and the First kinslaying. Even after the first kinslaying Celegorm and Curufin fled to Finrod and was welcomed and was the vanguard needed for Orodreth to escape, we know that even after the sons of Feanor condemned the entire host of Nolofinwë to cross the grinding ice Aredhel still went to visit them first after escaping her guards when she fled gondolin. I think it would be much more interesting if they instead were their fathers age then there’s cuz it really does show how fucked elven aging is compared to our understanding of how we age and age differences.

Also I think it would be hilarious for caranthir to have beef with babies ngl. I think it’s hilarious he’d want to throw hands with golden haired toddlers when he’s the same age as their dad.

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doodle-pops · 9 months

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Tales of the Heart | Part 2

Finarfin x mortal!reader

A/N: I couldn't help but continue this request as a self-written piece. Since we know he's already in ME and fell in love, why not place him in a dilemma.

Warnings: mortality contemplation, flashback

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: Finarfin finds himself contemplating his future now that his love and duties were entangled.

Part 1 | Part 2

Knock, knock, knock. Three taps to your wooden door and the call of your name made your heart leap. He returned to you as promised.

Wasting no time, you dropped your dough half-heartedly into the pan and rushed to the front, tripping over the rug and steps on the way. Halting just a few footsteps away, you tied your hair and swiped the beads of perspiration down your face. Giving a few fans of cool air to your skin, you cleared your throat and ripped the door off its hinges to again greet his charming and fair face. This was the fifth time you were both seeing each other since your first meeting and Finarfin made it his business to ignore some of his unimportant duties that could cry a few days without him to attend to you.

“Hello.” Your greeting was always short and curt whenever you were meeting him; never able to get more than two words out. It was that silly elven effect you heard from many that they possessed. Lucky to know that you were experiencing it the same way for love.

“Greetings my love.” His voice was never above the howling of the wind, but as sweet as the merry tune of a nightingale. Eyes that held yours made you believe you were swimming in an ocean of blue. Lips that stretched into a grin made you stand on your tippy toes to crane your neck for sweet nectar. And a smile so heavenly that washed away all your worries and doubts.

The whispers of being a mortal and loving an elf had already spread throughout the town. Most villagers were eager to place fear and reminder that you would grow old and wrinkled, and he would no longer find beauty in you. How vacillating was mortal life compared to an elf? Your thoughts were plagued many nights with wondering if his love for you was true and he saw beauty, or if he was lying. But that kiss and smile…it melted your fears and filled you with positivity.

“I come baring gifts for you little bird,” he cheered, though his hands were empty, and nothing was present behind his larger figure.

Your eyes peered around him as best as you could glance for any noticeable trace of an object, but none came into sight. The action urged you to frown and pout, leaving the King chuckling at his lover’s sulky expression. It wasn’t every day Finarfin got to experience the array of emotions that mortals, even you, displayed. All he was familiar with were rage, fear, guilt, happiness and despair. The others expressed entirely differently from elves was an eye-opener for him. More the merrier as he would claim it to be.

Stepping backwards and ushering him into your house, you still marvelled today at the difference between him and your doorframe. Bending his poor back to enter a confined spacing, he had never made it his business to complain. You gathered that he understood the differences in living between elves and men.

“What gifts have you come bearing my love? I see no cloth or item in your hand,” you deliberated, roaming your eyes over his figure in case you missed something sticking out. To your disappointment, there was none.

“I believe you would be surprised to learn that your gift…is me!” he exclaimed with a cheeky wink. It felt unnatural for him to display himself so flirtatious when he was reserved and poised in swooning someone. He was never one for the youthful take on courting and showing affection since he was raised to act properly and above what was considered acceptable. All these rule-breaking would make his father and mother cast an eye at him while shouting his name.

You were turning him into a young ellon all over again. That he understood and accepted wholeheartedly.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you smiled and walked over to him, allowing your smaller figure to become engulfed completely by the cluster of his robes, cloak and body. “You are so very childish at times Arafinwe…I love that about you,” you praised. “Most people spoke about the elves being stern and serious, only a few were described as light and cheerful.”

“Ah, perhaps the latter was my eldest and a few of his closer cousins,” he replied sorrowfully. He still was not over hearing how his family lost their lives all the way down to the last battle. At the same time, he was hesitant to reveal he was married and bore children; not many were willing to accept being with someone who was engaged before. It wasn’t familiar in elven society but heard of among the men.

Pulling away from him, you looked up and gently smiled, noticing the shift in his mood. “Well, your eldest had to get it from someone…like his handsome and cheerful father!”

Walking away and over to the kitchen to refocus on your unattended dough, he followed closely behind, stewing over words to return. A silence had fallen between you both and he used it to bubble over his next words. Glancing at you kneading the dough to the empty fireplace to the troughs that held your kitchen garden, he chewed his bottom lip. Your home was cosy as you fought to make it comfortable. Even though it was sufficient for one bedroom, kitchen, living and dining room and a porch, it was your patch of paradise. He knew that, but would you be willing to leave it behind.

“I am returning home.”

It was over a month since he broke your heart with those words, heartstrings tugging and begging to snap with every reminiscence of the scene. You hadn’t seen him since that day he came to your door and broke the sorrowful news. He stuck around to ensure you were well informed, but even the great King knew how grave his words were and how deep they had cut. You were left with invisible wounds to the human eyes, but open to the one who loved and sang his soul to you the most every night. The joyous look in his eyes, when those words left his lips, was replaced immediately with regret when he witnessed your status figure halting by the counter.

You weren’t pleased.

Finarfin didn’t truly know how to feel after that incident; even his mind haunted him day and night with memories of your teary eyes. Tossing left and right each night in his room he was kindly gifted by the Gil Galad; he would hold his head and wonder if falling in love with you, a mortal, was his mistake for the agony he was causing. The last time he ever loved, his heart was shattered by the actions of family and the crown, and now the crown was repeating the same heartache. The chance to love again beckoned to him like the earth held the moon; he hadn’t the strength to let go of the opportunity the Valar presented to him. A way of them making up for the problem they and his family caused. But it was still an issue and not a simple blessing; how half-hearted of them to cast a blank canvas and have him figure it all out.

He wanted to paint a picture of his future and yet they gave him no paint.

Sitting on the edge of your bed like a silent whisper of night, Finarfin's hands were curled into his lap like a child the longer he observed your peaceful state. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the twitching of your lips and eyes and the flutter of your lashes, how odd were you as a race of beings weaker than his but more fascinating than anything. He loved to observe you in your slumbering state; too many times he had often wondered where you went when you closed your eyes, wanting to follow you into the astral realm. His brows would frown whenever he attempted to evade your mind the moment you shut your eyes and slipped into your sleep.

Now, it was the most beautiful state of peace he has ever witnessed.

Roaming his eyes over your figure once more, he reached out to ghost his fingers over your cheeks and brush your hair out of your eye. The windows were opened to allow small gusts of wind to breathe the midnight ambience into your chambers. It helped his mind to wander the more he gazed at you, contemplating his future. You were a breath of fresh air after years of loneliness, too angelic to slip through his fingers without a fight. The idea of leaving you behind while he returned to Araman while you remained here, alone and with a broken heart, to wither and die without him at your side, made him choke on a sob.

Was he the moth that was drawn to the flame or were it you? He couldn’t live without you any longer.

Faith and destiny were two of the cruellest entities he had ever discovered and had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. They thrust unwanted burdens into his heart and left him to suffer, a crown for emptiness. Now that the void could be refilled, it was at a time when the crown mattered. But I could do it. Give up the Crown and have the Valar choose Ingwё to govern; he would obey Lord Manwё’s decree without opposition. I could stay here, even if it was fifty years, I could stay. Would they let me return or deem my act as defiance, rebellion even? If it didn’t meet their wishes, everything was a crime in their eyes, but I could also…

His thoughts were abruptly cut at the suddenness of your body rolling to face him. The air in his lungs halted at the sight of the moonlight slipping through the thin sheer curtains and shining on your ethereal form. Finarfin's hands couldn’t help but brush your cheeks while his face grew warmer as you shuffled close to his touch. Your body was familiar with his scent and presence, you were craving him…missing him. The consciousness made his fёa tremble.

The things he’d do for love. They say love is dangerous, love is powerful, love drives the sanest person crazy, love makes you touch the sky and soar the heavens, love makes you do the impossible. Love was making him rethink all his purpose and duties.

The fire you rekindled within him was an imperishable flame now that the beacon was relit. He dared not allow himself to be parted from your side no matter the consequences he could face. Should his flame be doused, his world would crumble, slipping under his feet and plummeting into the abyss. Second chances didn’t come around often, especially when elves loved once, this was a miracle and a sick twisted gameplay he couldn’t afford to lose. What were the chances of snatching you into his arms and boarding his ship to depart to Valinor this instant? You would hate him for taking you away from his family.

“Would you hate me if I begged you to come with me? I am a lonely elf living in a palace like a masquerade,” he breathed wearily. His soul was growing tired from all the constant back-and-forth run-around. “I can do with someone to keep me grounded…you’d be perfect.”

Running the back of his knuckles along your cheeks, he softly smiled when you sighed and nuzzled subconsciously into his warmth. He had been here for years, slowly fading into the regular routine of his fellow elves who adapted to the changes of Middle Earth, no longer under the watchful gazes of the Valar to scold. It felt refreshing to be diverse, with no one to bark at him for any unethical and unprofessional demeanours. He knew if he took you overseas, you would face the harsh end of the stick for poor etiquette, setting you up for discrimination.

You are the High King Arafinwё, you could arrive at a peaceful conclusion.

“But what if I stayed with you…forever. What if I followed like her, the elven maiden who gave her life for her mortal lover, would you still accept me as I am? Mortality,” he brokenly whispered and clutched his chest, “it sounds painful, but I’d get to be with you forever. You’ll never slip through my fingers.” Dragging his eyes away from your face and roaming them around the room, they focused on nothing as they circumnavigated the tight enclosure.

How capricious was mortality? Today you existed, tomorrow you perished and vanished into the world beyond the outer doors. He didn’t want to suffer like his son did or undoubtedly was, but his opportunity was laid before him like a golden road with hundreds of signs. The only obstruction was his path to walk with you. He snickered. It was always he who walked the mystifying paths in life and suffering was all that he was guaranteed to know.

“Would the Valar grant you immortality likewise the opposite for me? They say I am important, but I’ve never felt so until I met you. I’ve only been at their convenience…at everyone’s convenience actually.” Shuffling his position to gracefully lie on his side and face you, he paused to marvel at the love he found. His right hand reached out once more to cup your face and rub his thumb against the softness. As a mortal, you had such remarkable and unfathomable beauty. “I’m sure they can forgive me for the decision I will make, they always do.”

When the sun rose and the ship sailed, his decision would be made.

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