#the third kinslaying

[thekingofwinterblog]

So one detail that is really, really sad about both the Hobbit and Lord of the rings, that is there from day one always hoovering over the narrative, but is never really explained, is the sad story of Sting, Glamdring and to a lesser extent Orcrist.

These weapons glow blue in the pressence of Orcs.

Its a detail that's never explained beyond the fact that it's because it's Elven weaponry from fallen Gondolin.

But we're never explained why only these out of all the elven made equipment in the franchise glows like this.

Clearly it was something unique to the Gondolinian smiths, and so you'd be forgiven for thinking on a first delving into the deeper legendarium, that it was snuffed out with the city itself, when Morgoth's forcea sacked it with Orcs, balrogs, dragons and early mechanical troop carriers.

A wonderous and in it's own way beautiful little bit of magic, lost to the world forever.

But no, that's not quite it.

While it was the sack of Gondolin that killed most of it's people, there was still hope for some sort of recovery for it's people, the true treasure of fair Gondolin that truly mattered...

But that hope was snuffed out by the sons of Feanor, when they assaulted the havens where the survivors of this genocide and many others had gathered and wiped almost all of them out.

In thw end, if there was any amongst them that knew the secret for how to make the blue glowing steel, it died here, where this attrocity took place and Elf killed elf on large scale for the third time, for the pettiest and most selfish of reasons.

Leaving Sting, Glamdring and Orcrist and those few other weapons from the city to survive as the last memorials to a dead and gone culture, the last children of a culture that Feanor's brood snuffed out in a slaughter.

#tolkien's legendarium #sting #glamdring #orcrist #the hobbit #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #swords #gondolin #the sack of gondolin #the third kinslaying #sons of feanor

[light-of-the-two-trees]

Weird AU I thought of in the shower

What if Namo refused Luthien's request? What if he never let Beren live again? What if he told her that she and Beren were sundered until the breaking of the world?

She wanted to die when she found out, but she refused to. It wouldn't make a difference anyway. So she returned, and came to Doriath no more. She was dead, but she lived again. Much went the same way as it did in canon, despite Beren's absence (although I haven't thought much about it because silly au).

Dior Eluchil was not Luthien's son. He was the son of Timpinen (Tinfang Warble, who was in BoLT, I think, the brother of Tinuviel) and much older than one might have thought (which explains how he had children seemingly at the age of 20 or 30? Despite being an elf?!). He had two children only — Elured and Elurin, but they were peredhil, for Dior's mother was of mortal kindred. They were young, when they were taken by the servants of Celegorm into the woods.

There Luthien found them. There she began to raise them. They were but infants.

She met the mariner in Sirion, when Gondolin fell. The grief of Beren's loss was still in her heart, but his hope, his youth, his desire to sail to the Valar and call them to aid Beleriand, it all called to her.

Luthien raised the twins with him, under changed names that have now been forgotten. They raised them, and the Princess of Doriath and the Prince of Gondolin fell in love. Then the Third Kinslaying happened.

She knew she could have made a stand. But Luthien knew it would be best to surrender now, then bring victory later. So she leapt from the tower under Elwing's name and fled to Earendil, to help him plead the Valar to intercede, to help. Her children were taken by her killers, and she knew with utmost certainty that they would survive. Elrond and Elros they were then named.

The plan succeeded. Luthien and Earendil reached Valinor. The Valar had denied one request of hers. They could not deny another (especially not when the request was what it was).

Her deeds, greater ones than the theft of a silmaril, than her love for Beren (the later parts of which were naught but a wishful fabrication, for he never returned), were never remembered under her name, nor truly under Elwing's. But the war ended. She met with Melian once more. She set protections around Earendil and made his ship take flight (an idea from The Shaping of Middle Earth was that Elwing somehow made Earendil's ship fly and I thought that was quite cool).

She let him sail, and stood once again at a tower, remembering her lost loves that she would see seldom until the breaking.

She wept a little. But in time, she began to sing again.

I'm honestly kinda liking this...? It probably breaks a fair bit of canon but eh

#luthien tinuviel #beren erchamion #earendil #elwing #elrond #elros #dior #elured #elurin #the third kinslaying #luthien is elwing au #the silmarillion #silm #legendarium tag #and it was not void

[aradian-nights]

i wrote a fic chronicling elrond and elros’s life from the moment they were kidnapped to the end of beleriand, with the added twist that for most of their childhood they have no idea that maglor and maedhros kidnapped them

#elrond #elros #maglor #maedhros #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #the silmarillion #the third kinslaying

[that-angry-noldo]

As four pairs of indefferent, gray eyes pierce through her, Elwing wonders if this is what Grandmother felt like.

Young, small and inexperienced, facing something big, dark and dangerous. Like a songbird facing an eagle. Like an Angel facing the Devil himself.

Fear knots in her stomach, but she pushes it away. Not now. Not when her people's fate depends on her, on her words, on her actions. Not when her kids - her Elrond and Elros - wait for her, scared and afraid of the new tense atmosphere in the air.

"I hope our letter found you well, Lady."

Maedhros is speaking and oh, gods, screw that, screw everything. She's a bird trashing in eagle's talons. She's an Angel trembling in front of Devil. There's no escape, no -

Stop. Breathe. Focus. You got it, Elwie. You got it.

They talk. Maedhros first. Then Maglor. The two princes are silent. They talk, and Elwing feels sick, because she knows what they want. She knows their story, having memorized it by word in her youth, trying to learn, trying to understand what had led these men down the path they took, trying to push down bitter memories of Doriath, of blood and of screams.

They know she knows. They know she remembers.

And there's a threat vowen in their words - hell, they aren't even trying to make it subtle. There's a threat vowen in their words: if you don't surrender, we'll make you relive your memories, relive your pain, relive your biggest fear and your worst nightmare.

While her Granmother was scared, she was also smart. She was also gifted. She was brave and determined.

There's silence sitting in the room, four lords eyeing her expectingly.

She has to speak.

She has to dance.

And so she does. She tells them of Eärendil. She tells them of their traditions; she tells she cannot make the decision by herself; she asks them to wait. She asks them for time. He will be back in few month. Surely we can hold our winds by then. Surely we can compromise; you can camp in our city, you can be our guests, we can -

"No."

That was the feeling of doom sealed, and Elwing wants to cry.

Is this what Grandfather felt?

Is this what Finrod felt, predicting his fate?

The fate is sealed, and Elwing pales, because for a moment - for a single moment - twin princes are dead, one shot through chest, second stabbed in the guts, and they are dead, and they are lying together near the city fountain, and there is blood - so much blood, so much death, so much fire, and Elwing wants to fall, to weep, to scream, because she failed, she failed, and the Devil is smiling, and the Eagle tears her apart -

- and she stands still, lips pressed together, and she knows that they know.

She asks them for another round of negotiations, and Maedhros nods.

They all know there won't be a second round.

The Havens of Sirion fall by the next evening.

#elwing #maedhros #maglor #ambarussa #the third kinslaying #eärendil #elrond #elros #tolkien #tolkien fic #silmarillion #lotr #woops. i made spontanous angst again. sorry didn't mean to. #anyway i realised i need more luthien & elwing content

[who-needs-words]

So there seems to be this assumption in the Silmarillion fandom that Elwing chose the Silmaril over her sons.

I wanted to see if that was fandom or if I was misremembering Chapter 24. The following is the only description of Elwing casting herself into the sea and the twins being taken hostage;

“…and they [survivors] told that Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but Elwing with the Silmaril upon her breast had cast herself into the sea.”

That’s IT. We know what happens after but none of the details. We have a few details about the attack itself including;

“For the sons of Fëanor that yet lived came down suddenly upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath, and destroyed them.”

And

“In that battle some of their [Feanorians] people stood aside, and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part aiding Elwing against their own lords…”

But NOTHING ELSE about the events surrounding Elwing’s fall.

People going on about her abandoning her children, or picking the Silmaril have no basis in canon. It’s all fanon. 

#the silmarillion #silm #Elwing #elrond #Elros #the third kinslaying #silm meta #Tolkien #silmarillion #havens of Sirion #i have my own HC about how events unfold #but in fandom it’s important to keep text-based assumptions separate from HCs #if anyone has any more details pls share them

[myceliumelium]

I shudder to imagine what was going through Maedhros's head in the aftermath of Sirion. Nothing good, that's for sure. Anyway, a note on character design, (It's his hair, of course it's his hair, I have no self control) when i draw him, his hair is a strong indicator of his mental state. At this point, he's so far gone that he doesn't even give enough of a shit to cut it short any more (which I hc as an act of reclaiming in the wake of angband, controlling one of the very few things he still can about his appearance.) P.S. I spent way too long on this to tolerate tumblr quality, so please click on it and take a closer look!

#maedhros #silmarillion #third kinslaying #Sack of sirion #Elwing is the gull in the distance #art #tolkein #feanorians

[softlysilverfountainsfall]

Anyway, I think Elrond had a breakdown on Elladan and Elrohir's sixth birthday because they're so young, which means that he and Elros were that young when—

#because when you're a kid your living your full lived experience #so you don't know how young you are #but oh boy do I think it hit home for Elrond on his sons' birthday #imagining what he went through at that age on /them/ #...angst hours over here #elrond #elros #elrond and elros #elladan #elrohir #the silmarillion #lotr #lotr appendices #third kinslaying #softlysilver

[helio-phobe]

Kinslayer.

+detail

#maedhros #my stuff #the silmarillion #tolkien #first age #third kinslaying #tolkien elves

[solmarillion]

everyone's talking about whether elwing or the fëanorians have a greater moral claim to the silmaril but no one ever asked the silmaril how it feels

it literally has its own internal morality system and can decide for itself who can hold it. maybe we should consider that for a moment

#i would tag this as silm shitpost but no i'm actually dead fucking serious #elwing #feanorians #third kinslaying #doriath #silmarillion #silmarillion fandom

[nelyos-right-hand]

One thing I often hear when talked about kidnap fam is that while the "and love grew between them"-thing is obviously canon, that people don't think it is as happy and harmonic as often portrayed, or even that they actually like the fluffy version more, but logically have to admit that it isn't very realistic.

But I think that's exactly the point. No, the likelihood of E&E having a healthy relationship with Mae&Mags after, well, everything is pretty low, but how likely was Beren and Luthien actually getting that Silmaril?

Tolkien loved Beren and Luthien, and not just because it was kind of the only story in the Silm with a happy ending, but also because of the odds of that happy ending. If I didn't know better, a couple infiltrating the enemy's fortress, beating him, getting away and doing all of that with nothing but the "power of love" or whatever would sound like a fanfiction to me. Maybe a good written one, but definitely a fanfiction.

But Tolkien loved this story because somehow it all worked out and that makes it incredibly beautiful.

And wouldn't it be maybe unrealistic but beautiful, if after E&E lost everything and then got KIDNAPPED, they somehow ended up having a happy childhood anyway? If they found love and happiness, by the people who did this to them no less?

Or if those bitter, broken kinslayers, after everything they've done, found some kind of happiness again, however temporary, and, for a short period of time, had the chance to relearn the meaning of mercy, innocence and forgiveness? They certainly didn't deserve it, but didn't E&E deserve a happy childhood?

I think that it makes kidnap fam even better if you think that there's just no way that ten year old children would be able to heal from that trauma and come to love those battle hardened warriors, and it almost makes me cry to think about how little Elrond and Elros didn't forget what happened, but chose to forgive it, even though kids this age shouldn't have nearly the wisdom necessary to do that.

And it becomes even more tragic if you think about how it all falls apart in the end, about how they all knew from the very beginning that this little family of theirs could never last.

So, I think that this version sounds a lot more like Tolkien then an unstable, disfunctional family with 50% love, 25% hate and 25% toxic behavior. I'm not saying that E&E didn't sometimes have conflicted feelings towards Mae&Mags or that the brothers weren't struggling with their sanity, but give this people some happiness guys.

#maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #the silmarillion #feanorians #sons of feanor #silmarillion #the silm fandom #kidnap fam #tolkien #first age #third kinslaying #elwing #earendil #my post

[lordgrimwing]

How Elwing Lost A Silmaril

The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.

The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.

But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.

The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.

The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.

Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart. 

The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar. 

I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring. Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you. Let this not end with blood.

She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.

She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.

Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.

You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot. What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command.  You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me.  So, what would I have? I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire. 

She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did. 

Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…

And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.

The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.

“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.

She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.

The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”

Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face. 

#the ambarussar are hers now i guess #will this change everything or nothing? #i have my ideas #maedhros is the worst of the sons of feanor actually because he will justify doing anything for a silmaril #crack fic #but i'm treating this crack seriously #elwing #amrod #amras #maedhros #ambarussa #elwing's ambarussa au #grimwing writes #the silmarillion #the silmarils #sirion #third kinslaying #(except it doesn't end up happening now)

[eleneressea]

I just want to see Fingon being the worst version of himself :)

#figuring out how to justify fingon participating in the second and third kinslayings… #i want fingon to do everything maedhros does & to do it in his name #ideally with maedhros dead and unable to protest

[mothdalf]

Tolkientober day 28: Elwing and the Silmaril

#my art #tolkientober #first age antics #inktober #silmarillion #elwing #third kinslaying #inktober day 28 #inktober sparkle #sparkle #day 28 sparkle

[polutrope]

Amrod threatens Elrond and Elros by @runawaymun

Illustration for my fic And Love Grew commissioned by my dear friend @melestasflight. I am so grateful to them both for this chillingly beautiful, emotional piece that truly captures the horror of the scene.

Snippet below the cut.

A former follower of Amrod speaks to Maedhros and Maglor of what he witnessed on the cliffs near Sirion:

“My lord, he flung his sword about with such abandon, such hate, that I thought he might slay one of us, or himself. But it was thus stumbling into the night outside the city that he caught sight of a small group mounting the hills in the distance. Suddenly returned to himself, Lord Amrod commanded, ‘After them!’ We gave chase, but Lord Amrod ran so swiftly, as if driven by a fire within, and the men with us were weary and injured, so that all but myself fell behind. I was with him when he caught up to those we pursued, where the hills begin to rise and drop steeply into the sea, where you saw...”

Orfion paused, working his jaw around his next words.

“It was the Lady Elwing with her children and a woman-servant and their guard. I knew him for a warrior of Gondolin by his livery. He turned to engage us, but Lord Amrod paid him no mind. Swift as a hawk, he had snatched the children before the Lady or her servant were aware of him. And dropping to his knees and holding both terrified boys to his chest he held his sword to their throats.

“‘Hand over the Silmaril and they will live,’ he said. One of the children squirmed and a line of blood bloomed wet on his throat. There was no feint in Amrod’s voice. None dared to move or speak for a long moment. Then the servant spoke first, denying that her lady had the jewel with her. Lord Amrod laughed. ‘Of course you have it,’ he replied. ‘In that box you are clutching. Was it that very same in which you smuggled our birthright out of Doriath, where my brothers died in vain? Hand it over or I will slit your children’s throats.’ But Elwing had already silenced the other woman, and she drew the necklace out of the box. I thought she might hand it over, but she clasped it about her neck.

“Its light, my lord — I could scarcely breathe for the beauty of it, and the terror of the Lady wearing it. There were tears on her face that had been hidden by the darkness, and they now shone like little streams in the moonlight. I have never feared darkness before, my lord, but I did then. I fear I will evermore shun the night, having seen that light.”

Tears had gathered in Orfion’s eyes, and he sputtered to a halt. “Please forgive me, lords, I am not one prone to weeping, but the memory— it is impossible not to weep. I do not know why.”

“I do,” said Maglor. Compassion for the simple soldier who had become entangled in their doom warred with envy: it ought to have been him there, and Maedhros, looking upon the Silmaril’s light. Maglor would not have let it slip through his hands.

Orfion collected himself. “Even Lord Amrod was struck dumb,” he said, as if in answer to Maglor’s guilty thought, “and in his moment of faltering the children nearly escaped his grasp. Elwing lurched forward then, but he clutched them closer. He bared his teeth. ‘Hand it over!’ he commanded. She did not speak. She gazed long at her children, as if speaking to them mind-to-mind. She touched the Silmaril on her breast, and for a moment I thought she would remove it. Then a fell cold light washed over the Lady’s face, and she spoke, quiet but hard, in the tongue of Men.

“And then she turned and raced to the cliff’s edge. She leapt, and as she fell she loosed a horrible cry. The light of the jewel glowed along the precipice — and then it was gone.

“All was a confusion of shouts and fighting. The woman-servant screamed her Lady’s name and ran to the cliff’s edge. The guard commanded her to stop, and there was a struggle between them — I saw little of it, for Lord Amrod had risen to his feet and held again the edge of his sword to the throat of one of the children, who stood altogether still. The other wailed, and Lord Amrod drew his dagger and swung it at him. Rising and holding both blades aloft, he cursed them, saying that he would take them both with him. And then suddenly he dropped his weapons and crouched down before them and embraced them, and he murmured that he would save them, that he would spare them the burden— the burden of living.”

Orfion choked back the last words. “Then the guard leapt at Amrod, and dragged him to his feet — but as he did, Amrod drove his dagger deep into his thigh, and the man stumbled, and Amrod dropped the dagger and seized him by the neck. ‘I do not want to kill you, old friend,’ he spat. ‘Stand down, Galdor. This is not your fight.’ Then he threw the man to the ground. Amrod turned on the children again and then — my lord, I was certain he would slay them, and I could not bear it.

Read the fic on AO3

#amrod #elrond #elros #third kinslaying #*and love grew

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

AU where the Third Kinslaying takes place a decade later

It doesn't truly change anything, not as far as the history books record things. Some of the Feanorian soldiers turncoat and defend the city, but not enough to save Sirion. The youngest sons of Feanor die in battle. Elwing is cornered in her tower, and jumps with a Silmaril. The remaining sons of Feanor take custody of her sons. Ulmo rescues Elwing and guides her bird-self to Earendil; Earendil and Elwing got to Valinor; Earendil pleads with the Valar. The arc of Fate continues unabated.

In other ways, it changes everything. Elrond and Elros are not children when the attack comes, to hide in a closet or cave in hopes their mother will return. Instead they are youths, not yet as wise or strong as some but nearly grown.

The princes take part in the battle to defend their city.

It's both of their first fight outside the practice yards. Elrond has gone hunting before and shot a deer, but Elros has never spilled the blood of another living being, not orc or elf or man.

He does so today, his sword travelling smoothly in the motion he's drilled a hundred times.

Elrond fights on horseback at first, riding down the street and firing arrows at anyone wearing Feanor's star, trampling down the invaders and moving on before he can see what's left behind and vomit in horror. But when the battle progresses into the palace he abandons his stallion at the gates, rushing to try and save his family.

Elros watches his mother jump from across a room crowded with combatants. Elrond is still four floors down, but he sees the gull emerge from the spray with a loud cry, far larger and brighter than any natural bird.

They do find each other in the battle, and fight side by side. But slowly the twins are driven back, before an army both more experienced and more numerous.

Elrond and Elros manage to retreat to the buttery and block the door, the thick stone walls that keep the beer cool also preventing anyone from reaching them. It's a very defensible room, with only one entrance to guard.

They are trapped. They know it.

Neither says it aloud.

They simply sit and wait, and hope the invaders will leave once they realize the prize they came to the city for is no longer achievable.

(Maedhros is not about to leave two young princes behind whose city was destroyed, will want revenge, would be a wonderful rallying point for the people of Sirion, and are two young to know the wisdom of not starting fights without a tactical benefit. Better to deal with it now, while the city is in chaos, than to wait and have an army come after the Feanorians in a year or a decade.)

(The only question is if the door can be breached, or if the Feanorians will need to starve the twins out. By which time reinforcements will likely have arrived to Sirion, so it becomes a matter of either defending the ransacked city or burning the palace with the boys inside it.)

After an hour or two, someone does think of negotiating, offering to spare the princes lives and leave the city not any further destroyed, and taking the boys captive.

(Tell me, what prince of the Noldor is infamous for going to a parlay under false pretenses? How much history and diplomacy do you think twins raised to rule a kingdom know?)

#my fic #my writing #silmarillion #silm #kidnap dads #elrond #elros #third kinslaying

[sauronnaise]

Slay

#tolkien #shitpost #silmarillion #tolkien memes #slay #first kinslaying #second kinslaying #third kinslaying #fëanorians #noldor #teleri #sindar #incorrect silmarillion #incorrect tolkien #using incorrect for tags when its in fact very correct #crack