#there's no arguing with Ulmo
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I sincerely love how sea-longing in Tolkien is presented as a legitimate and sufficient motive for sailing away and never coming back.
#sea longing#tuor#earendil#legolas#and others#not that I sail#but proximity to the sea is non-optional#to prevent spiritual withering#there's no arguing with Ulmo
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'So @corsairspade's post about Celegorm and Orome and luck sent me down a tangent, because--
Okay. Part of the silmarillion that rubs me wrong is that the Valar never seem to experience any actual consequences for their failures and missteps. Their choice to trust Morgoth has disastrous consequences--everywhere outside of Aman*. Their mismanagement of Noldorin politics leads to the kinslaying at Alqualonde and the Doom of the Noldor (and arguably the knock-on dooming of beleriand) while the valar sit tight at home. Sauron gets loose and spends millenia wrecking shit, but that shit is all conveniently far away from Aman. The only time he gets close to Aman, it ends in a genocide--of people that the Valar wouldn't let into Aman in the first place. They stay high and dry and unchanging through the literal re-shaping of Arda.
So. Consequences! I want them. So what if the apparent waning of the Valar's strength across the Ages is actually a direct consequence of their isolationism?
After all, why are the valar in arda? They're there to build it, and then maintain it. They're there to embody their domains. My conception of them (and I know this isn't universal but this is my personal working baseline) is that each ainu's domain of power is their calling. Their reason for existance. It's the lens they perceive the world through, and they derive their strength of existence in the world by perpetually embodying and enacting that calling. Ulmo is defined by the restless motion of the waves. Varda is defined by the light of the heavens and the shining of the stars. Orome is defined by the hunt.
But then they restrict themselves to Aman. They functionally took themselves out of Arda well before the third age. They made a deliberate and conscious choice to restrict the scope of their activity/influence. What if that choice also restricted the scope of their power?
I keep coming back to Orome because. Look. His case of obedience to authority vs obedience to one's own nature/calling feels so egregious. If any valar should have spent the first age in beleriand, it should have been Orome and Tulkas. Orome's calling is The Hunting of Evil. Tulkas only showed up in Arda to fight Melkor! The act of sitting out the fight reduces both of them from forces of active good to... what? Courtly vestigial remnants of their own true natures? You don't stay the best at what you do by avoiding doing it. Maybe the valar don't retain their primordial powers if they don't exercise them. Maybe limiting the scope of their direct influence (to the place it was arguably least needed ) likewise limited the scope of their strengths.
Which leads to a situation where the valar cannot, in fact, defend Aman against Numenor, because they thought that isolation was enough. So they sat out two ages of the world, and when the world came to find them at home they realized too late that their choices would have consequences for themselves, not just others.
*If you try to argue that the loss of the Trees is equivalent to the destruction of a fucking landmass and the actual enslavement of unspecified numbers of people, save your energy. Just take my disappointed look as a given and go find some other post to comment on.
#Tolkien#Can't stop chewing at the betrayal of orome#And the idea of celegorm being reimbodied only to find that while he himself has lost/betrayed his Calling#Orome has likewise dwindled down to nothing but an ainu of hawks and hounds and courtly hunts#Like they split the True Calling between them. Orome got the goodness (but no practicality) and celegorm got the violence (void of morality#...does this make the istari a last-ditch bid to reclaim their own strength? Hm.#San shoots the breeze
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I don’t understand why the most common interpretation of the battle of Finrod and Sauron I see is that Finrod lost because Sauron had the moral high ground, or even because Finrod felt particularly guilty about Alqualondë.
It's certainly possible that Finrod felt some measure of guilt over the First Kinslaying, whether that be for not stopping it, for not turning back with his father, or for being willing to take the ships of his mother's people. You can certainly argue that he had some sort of moral culpability for not taking a stand with Arafinwë, though I personally think that's taking personal responsibility to a rather absurd length given that Finrod neither killed anybody nor actually ever set foot in a stolen ship.
Rather, I think what defeated Finrod was the invocation of despair. Looking at the relevant passage from the Lay of Leithian:
He chanted a song of wizardry,
Of piercing, opening, of treachery,
Revealing, uncovering, betraying.
Sauron is trying to figure out who they are.
Then sudden Felagund there swaying
Sang in answer a song of staying,
Resisting, battling against power,
Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,
And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;
Of changing and of shifting shape,
Of snares eluded, broken traps,
The prison opening, the chain that snaps.
Finrod is saying, "No, I will not tell you who we are," but look at specifically how he does it. He's saying, "everyone with me trusts me, and I trust them. You can't overcome that."
Backwards and forwards swayed their song.
Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong
The chanting swelled, Felagund fought,
And all the magic and might he brought
Of Elvenesse into his words.
Softly in the gloom they heard the birds
Singing afar in Nargothrond,
The sighing of the Sea beyond,
Beyond the western world, on sand,
On sand of pearls in Elvenland.
ok this part always makes me cry cuz it's so beautiful, but more to the point: Finrod is backing up his statement that Sauron cannot recognize them with power. What power? The power of Elvenesse, of Elvenhome: of Elven strongholds. He specifically invokes Nargothrond - a beautiful kingdom, the symbol of friendship between Elves and Dwarves, and more to the point a place of safety for Elves, whose location Morgoth does not know. And then he invokes Alqualondë. Unwise, perhaps; but he is right that Alqualonde was never touched by Morgoth. It was under the protection of Ulmo and also too far for the light of the Trees to be reached, so Morgoth didn't directly harm the Teleri on the day of the Darkening. Finrod is saying, here: even in the hour of his greatest triumph, Morgoth couldn't harm all Elves. Ulmo is on our side. We will always be able to escape.
Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing
In Valinor, the red blood flowing
Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew
The Foamriders, and stealing drew
Their white ships with their white sails
From lamplit havens. The wind wails,
The wolf howls. The ravens flee.
The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea.
The captives sad in Angband mourn.
Thunder rumbles, the fires burn—
And Finrod fell before the throne.
To Finrod's argument, Sauron responds: guess what? Morgoth didn't even have to attack the Teleri. The Noldor did that for him. There are no safe places, because the Noldor have set themselves against gods: even if you escape Morgoth, you will fall under the Doom of Mandos. The battle is hopeless, and always will be hopeless. The Noldor are doomed.
Interestingly, he does address Finrod's two points directly. He first points out that even if the Teleri escaped Morgoth, they couldn't escape the malice he had sown among the Noldor. But then he invokes "captives sad in Angband" and "the fires burn," which seems to be a pretty clear reference to the curse laid upon Húrin and the eventual fall of Nargothrond to Glaurung. Sauron is saying: Nargothrond will fall too.
The thing is: he is right. The Teleri were slaughtered. Nargothrond fell. Gondolin fell. Doriath fell. Sirion fell. The Noldor are in a tragedy, and they know it. Finrod knows it, and he cannot argue back.
Of course, the thing that makes The Silmarillion so powerful is that even in Finrod's hour of darkest despair, neither he nor Beren nor his Ten give up their names and their errand. Finrod gives up his life to buy Beren a few more hours; and by his valour the line of Beren and Lúthien was saved, and the Doom of the Noldor lifted.
Endurance beyond hope is a central theme of Tolkien's work, no matter the Age: in Frodo's desperate errand, in Celebrimbor's refusal to give up the Three, and in Finrod's refusal to accept Beren's death no matter the cost. Finrod lost; how could he do otherwise? But even without hope, he kept going. And in the end, he was returned beyond hope to joy: "...Felagund laughs beneath the trees / in Valinor, and comes no more / to this grey world of tears and war."
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Hold His Own | on ao3.
Elros and his family, for @nolofinweanweek.
Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest.
(All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).
In his old age, Tar-Minyatur looked little older than his grandson's children. Silver was in his hair, and the silver of his eyes a little dulled; but his mind was sharp still, and eager. He walked the quays every day, and bent his back on harvesting seasons.
Only his son's growing weakness kept him from venturing out on the fishing vessels that scoured Ulmo's realm for fat tunas and rich whales - and all his children and their children were raised more on tales of the first eventful seal-hunting expeditions up and down the shores of Númenor than on tales of Beleriand.
Sirion, Doriath, Gondolin and Hithlum - those came later, when they learned their letters and their histories. His brother, in love with lore and the keeping of lore, would argue against it, and no doubt rear his children in the wisdom of Melian's line and the solemnity of eternal memory.
Elros was mortal. He raised his people to love themselves first of all, their cities and language and ways. They sang new songs every season, composed new and useless rhythms with dizzying speed - and the king of Elenna, who had grown among enemies, and made war on Melkor, delighted above all things in this speedy work, the restless pettiness of every day's effort.
The work of one's hands was rarely more beautiful than when it was raised up to protect against wind, hail and spray - than when towers were raised on strong foundations, and around them cities raised on beautiful lines.
He wrote his deeds and thoughts in treatises and decrees, the lore made to be read by lore masters in centuries to come. It was important to keep the past alive, and prepare for the future, study portents and ignore not foresight - Yet not, Elros wrote in the letters he tossed at the waves, Mithlond-bound, at the expense of this year's seaweed nurseries.
Vardamir was hungry enough to learn, and Tindómiel cared mostly for the business of the ships and the studies of the stars - Atanalcar went pearl-diving most of the summer, every summer of his life, and Manwendil liked riding best of all, and was a friend to the sea-birds that brought him small tokens of sea-glass and feathers.
Elros left his children the tools and the means to commit all the mistakes of his forefathers, and new ones besides; and he was not sorry for it in the slightest.
(All of them come to him in the dark once at least, crying and seasick, wanting to be held and sang to quietness. There was a wave, little Vardamir said it first; and his children after him, too, weeping and afraid as he had vowed they never would be. A wave, and it was angry, and it came for everything).
He soothes them all. Lullabies, half-forgotten and half-improvised, sweet with Menegroth's lilting rhymes; a few tries at the harp, and their little heads rested trustingly on his shoulder, asleep without fear again.
Dreams were only dreams, in the morning. None of them saw bloodshed before their coming of age; none of them would shed blood unjustly, for greed.
Tar-Minyatur knew this, because they were his children. He knew also that their children were like to have children themselves, and for all the friendship of the sea, an island was only so large and plentiful as the number of its people allowed them to be.
The gulls brought gifts to him, too. Perhaps they would do so to his descendants, too, five or ten births down the line, if not twenty. Did birds lose the keenness of their memory, as old men did?
The king's windows were always open, to the fresh star-lit light of the evening, when the weather allowed. In his last years, his bones turned into tyrants even on warm nights, but Tar-Minyatur found time to evade his minders, to bring out his bowl of seaweed and dumplings to the parapets of his towers and speak to Gil-Estel all the same.
All the old people of the island did, when they were soon to die. That last bearing of witness, some of the Edain held, was what stars were for, and this one most of all.
They may choose to tear them down in time, and build them anew, wrote Tar-Minyatur, silver-haired and trembling with the cold of an open window, young still in a way his brother would never be again.
He had taken to reading old philosophical texts with his son's grandchildren, now that they were old enough to be interested in these things, to know death and be a little angry at it, and petulant about the old king's way of teasing them. They went off to complain to Vardamir, who explained everything a little better, a little more sensibly.
No one had called him Elros in many years. All the same, the king wrote: Let them be as they would! That will be their choice! But they shall choose, and choose to look onwards, not back into the unalterable past. The best gift I can give them is to give them some stone and soil to stand upon, and the will to go onwards as they would, with the years they have to live.
Tar-Minyatur raised his children to know this. Great and terrible things came of that, and he foresaw many, if not most; but then, one must think of this day's effort most of all. The future would come, as certain as the tides and the summer storms. It was enough to leave behind strong foundations, and something of estel to pass onwards. All wise old men in Elenna knew this, and held it to be true.
#elros#elrond#vardamir#tindomiel#silm fic#nolofinweanweek#nolofinwëans#the fall of numenor#my fics#tolkien fanfiction
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After Ossë returned to Ulmo's service, Mairon, the Balrogs and every other fire spirit in Melkor's service unionized to campaign against the hiring of another water spirit. Melkor attempted to argue, but was soon swayed by the threat of having to sleep on the couch
#crack#silm crack#shitpost#silm shitpost#melkor#morgoth#sauron#mairon#angbang#balrogs#osse#ossë#maiar#ainur
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The Silmarillion Elves Finding My Mutual's Blog
AN: why am I doing this? Lack of brain cells, I tell you. But here we go (lmk if you would like to be removed...I don't intend to offend anyone). A small gift for mutuals and feel free to add more blogs if needed.
Summary: How would characters from the Silmarillion react to finding my mutual's blogs. Purely based on my interpretation which may or may not be messed up.
@asianbutnotjapanese: the loremaster with all the records. Elrond and Finrod. Do I need to say more? This trio would sit together to appreciate all the writings together. A group that thrives together as they compare their findings.
Finrod's appreciation might originate in the form of odes complimented by the notes of his harp.
Kings and queens of reblogging stuff for easier access.
@doodle-pops: There's going to be a crowd here. But the chief guest of this gathering can be none other than Fingon. Accompanied by Glorfindel and Fingolfin (because I see you with that sugar daddy fic Mina).
I completely expect Fingon to encounter the blog, binge-read everything and then create his own the very next day (and yes, he will write the most cursed ships). This elf will create multiple other accounts to comment on the Fingon fics...Will jokingly compare the note count of his fic with that of Maedhros'.
Glorfindel is just another golden retriever. He will meticulously thank you and the rebloggers (celebrates humbly at his popularity). And he will be the one to send super sweet 'you're amazing' kind of asks to the writer.
Fingofin will become an established annon on the blog. No one knows it's him. His online personality is 180 from his real life. (He's got some ships and opinions and mans won't stop from stating them *aggressively*.
@a-world-of-whimsy-5: The Ainur. Sauron, Namo, and Irmo (Manwe and Eonwe are lurking) are here and they will read everything. Don't be surprised if you get a bunch of passionate Sauron requests by an 'annon' the next day. Very specific requests.
Irmo on the other hand reads even the spiciest fics with a poker face late at night. I can just imagine him laying with his phone in his hand as he scrolls through the blog. A quiet existence but don't be surprised when you wake up with 50 notes and a new followers.
Namo will start by restraining himself to the sfw fics but somehow ends up reading nsfw and goes down the rabbit hole. Next day the he can't look anyone in the eye (especially Manwe). Decides never to do that again only to come back for more (don't even bring him close to hurt no comfort, this Ainur cried for Luthien. He can't handle angst).
@wandererindreams: Ulmo, Manwe, Eru, and The Void. Just a merry group having existential conversations. You all would be sitting there with your copy of texts and believe me Eru will pull out receipts to prove shit.
The sight of the Void being hyped by all the extensive headcanons...chef's kiss. Literal black hole feels included in the fandom for the first time.
Manwe and Ulmo would be there with wisdom and appreciation for your deep contemplation. Both commenting their piece and views about the subject in lengthy comments.
Eru will be taking notes. I can envision Iluvatar, playing devil's advocate (ironic) and arguing against anything and everything. Eru likes hooman who challenge him (ask Numenorians).
@animatorweirdo: Maglor and Sauron. The second eldest Feanorian will be found blushing as he reads your works and he will revisit the blog in bouts of day-dreaming of his true love. Leaves adorable emojis in the comments.
Believe me, Sauron would get some pretty interesting ideas from all your sci-fi fics. Now he really really really needs a vampire plus werewolf SO so bad. This maia will flourish under all the attention given to him. Follows fervently but will like sparingly (he's got an image to maintain).
I would also spy a lingering Maedhros but he's got the tired mom energy so he'll be a flickering presence who remembers Tumblr once every 3 months.
Lamemaster: dead. Feanor or Finwe will smite me the second they see my blog.
#the silmarillion#writers and their muses#tolkien elves#we're fucked if this happens#Feanor will smite me#treat for mutuals
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Can I ask for mini headcanon for the Ainur reuniting with their s/o who was exiled (went with the Noldor) during the War of Wrath? Sorry if this is too specific :(
A/N: No Melkor and Mairon because it's the War of Wrath, they got wrecked during that war, no reunion with them. I tried to keep these short and failed 🥹
The Ainur — Reuniting With Their Exiled S/O
Manwë
When he watched from Ilmarin as you followed the rebellion of the Valar out of Valinor and into the doom, his heart clenched when you became part of the host fated to the prophecies. Every day he would send his eagles to watch over you until the return of some of the Noldor at the end of the 1st Age.
But his heart swells when he sees your return to the shores of Valinor after centuries of loneliness, it was his Herald who brought you to meet with the Elder King. Long tears of how he missed you and prayed for your safe return will lead to endless days of him never leaving your side.
Irmo
He will constantly brace his brother and Manwë for updates on the Noldor's activities and yours. At first, he kept his distance from Námo after the doom was made, not wanting to believe that his own brother would subject his lover to the same fate as the Noldor when you were innocent. But even Irmo knew it was never his brother's personal intention.
During your time in Middle Earth, he does contact you through dreams, but it's short since the ban was still blocking him from reaching out the way he wanted. When you step off the boat at the end of the 1st Age with Finarfin's host, Irmo broke all forms of composure to rush to your side and embraces you in a bone-crushing hug. Lots of kisses and whispers for you to never leave him again.
Námo
If you thought the others were crushed, Námo died on the inside when his voice rang out to reveal the doom of the Noldor, knowing that there was a possibility of you being subjected to the same fate as the rest. He blames so many people, even himself at one point for willingly announcing the doom. He becomes cold and even more distant from everyone and the world and fearful of finding your fëa in his Halls one day.
The day he receives news of your return from his brother because of your visit to Lorien for healing, Námo on the outside appears normal, but Irmo can see his cold exterior cracking as he glides past him to reunite with you. He wants to be stern about your decision because of the pain it caused him, but he's more relieved to have you back in his arms.
Ulmo
He's been watching you since you left Middle Earth without the order of the Valar. He didn't even wait for them to bark the order for him to secretly watch over them. You were there and he wasn't going to sit around like the rest and do nothing.
Despite him keeping you safe in his own little way, he wasn't able to outrightly communicate with you in the manner he would have liked to. Comes the day the ban is lifted, Ulmo would reveal himself to you, quick to inform you that he's always been keeping you safe. His shattered heart is healed once you made your way into his embrace, crying about how you were sorry and missed him.
Tulkas
Another person who understands that the doom wasn't Námo's personal doing but hated when it was announced and covered all the departing elves, including you. This meant, in his heart, there was the possibility of you never returning whether you lived or died.
The day he learns that the ban was lifted and the elves could return, he awaited your return but was stressed. Perhaps when you settled in your old house, he would make his appearance with hurt and relief on his face seeing you unscattered. For a moment, he forgets his strength and pulls you into the tightest embrace ever, begging you to never leave him like that.
Oromë
He's pissed and desperately wants to leave Valinor to track you down in Middle Earth but argues with the other Valar when they refuse him because they "can't intervene". For once, Oromë wanted to refuse the orders of the other Valar and dance to his own tune but he still waited things out in hopes.
The minute you touch down on Valinor's soil, the bird and beast have alerted him and he's there waiting for you at your home. He appears angered because you followed the crowd, turning away from the Valar, but he's touched that you still used to pray to him and came home safe.
Eönwë
Tearful the entire time you departed and buried himself in strenuous training to mask his hurt. He becomes distant and always asking Thorondor if he has seen anything pertaining to you during your time in Middle Earth.
When he gets the chance to journey to Middle for the war, he doesn't waste a minute of the fighting to seek you out. He's asking around for you and when he does discover your whereabouts, you can bet that he's begging you to return once the ban is lifted. Eönwë refuses to part with you another time, and he's tearful about it too.
Tilion
Before he ended up guiding Isil across the sky, he was heartbroken that he couldn't get you to stay and you chose to follow those who rebelled against him and his people. At one point, he thought you felt the same towards him as everyone else, until he got placed in the sky to guide Isil and he saw you. Tilion watched over you and his heart was filled with glee once he noticed you looking at the moon.
Upon your return, Tilion cannot wait till day has broken for him to walk Valinor again and embrace you in a tearful reunion. He spends most of the day crying in your arms and explaining how much he feared and missed you. His biggest request like everyone else is to never abandon him like that.
Ossë
He is furious and it showed in his actions as he drowned the boats that departed Alqualonde. He knew that you weren't on any, but it was for the actions of Fëanor persuading your innocent heart and taking you away from him, condemning you to a horrid fate.
Your return would be, for the first time, the reason why no ships in years (besides Ëarendil) sunk. He sensed you on the ships and safely guided you back to the shores, waiting with arms open. He would be displeased when you chose to leave with the crowd, so a little scolding is given, but he just wants you close with him from then.
#mini headcanons#ainur#maiar#osse x reader#tilion x reader#eonwe x reader#orome x reader#tulkas x reader#ulmo x reader#namo x reader#irmo x reader#manwe x reader#silmarillion imagine#silmarillion x reader#angst#doodlepops responds
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i just started reading the Fall of Gondolin by JRR Tolkien. So far Christopher Tolkien has given us three drafts, separated by years. The first draft is by far the best. It read like an action thriller, with the different political factions arguing over how to respond to the warning Ulmo sent with Tuor that disaster was coming and they should evacuate. Of course "evacuate" was voted down, at Maeglin's urging, and also because there was nowhere safe left in Beleriand to escape to. When it gets to the actual battle, we get a vivid street-by-street description of how the defense was overwhelmed. Most people who evacuated once the city was lost took the Way of Escape, which Maeglin had told Morgoth about, so they all died. Only those who listened to Tuor took the secret escape route that Idril had built, and so less than a thousand people survived Gondolin. Among them: Tuor and Idril's young son Eärendil. The Gondolin survivors went to the harbor at the Mouths of the Sirion, where they joined the survivors of Doriath. Then Fëanor's sons showed up, and killed most everyone trying to get the Silmaril held by Lúthien's granddaughter. When the Valar finally show up to defeat Morgoth, everyone — the Noldor and the Sindar, and any other Elves, plus the Humans allied with them — is mostly dead. Too little, too late.
Art copyright by Ted Naismith.
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I headcanon the Teleri have a yearly festival dedicated to the hatching of sea turtles. I have my introduction to Teleri world building here that briefly mentions it and I want to make a longer post about it but in the meantime here are some headcanons:
-sea turtles are a common motif in Telerin art and lore and are beloved by them. it is considered deeply taboo to hurt one (not that the Noldor and Vanyar are out here trying to hurt sea turtles of course)
-there’s no special dress for the ceremony but nearly everyone is barefoot.
-it predates the rising of the sun and moon. the turtles would typically hatch when the light of Telperion was waning just as they would later learn to follow the moon towards the ocean
-nests are carefully guarded before the festival, marked by rocks with turtles painted upon them
-Maiar of Ulmo occasionally attend, sometimes among the Teleri sometimes from the ocean, taking the form of a sea turtle, manta ray or other creature and acting as a guide to the hatchlings and a calming force to the ocean itself to protect the turtles
-the glowing substance on the hands and in the sand and waves in the photographs are bioluminescent algae! it’s not strictly related to the Telerin festival and I actually have more headcanons about bioluminescence as it relates to the Falathrim but I also have thoughts about bioluminescence in Valinor
-Telerin children like to try and name as many of the hatchlings as they can before they disappear into the waves. it’s an extremely exciting event for them!
-no one swims for about a day after the festival. siblings argue about whether “their” named turtles are further than others
(thank you so much for the interest people showed in this when I first mentioned I was doing this! it made me so so so happy!!!)
note: I made another post about this, there’s more in the Teleri tag!
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i know ive probably mentioned this in some posts before, but i will literally never get over faramir and frodo’s discussion of boromir’s funeral boat, especially as it interacts with the theme of faith
so to recap a little, faramir recounts the story of finding boromir’s body. frodo suggests it might be either a dream or a work of sauron because the boat couldnt have made it down the waterfalls in one piece, but faramir argues that a work of sauron wouldn’t have filled him with grief and pity, and that dreams don’t leave your boots wet
i always assumed this was one of those parts of the story put in to suggest the presence of fate or some distant, greater powers and that was that. however, upon cracking open the silmarillion, i actually discovered that there’s a decently likely theological reason for all this
so even though the Valar kind of keep Men at arm’s length bc Men tend to be afraid of them, Ulmo (Vala of the ocean, kinda water in general) has a particular fondness for humans and vice versa, even if they don’t exactly know what they’re dealing with. as such, a lot of the more obvious miracles for humans happen via water, and Sauron’s forces (or anything Morgoth-adjacent) won’t go near it
so putting that together, this is probably an example of Ulmo pulling out a small miracle for someone who died heroically for a good cause, just to make sure he not only got to rest in peace, but got to (in a way) say his last goodbyes to his family and his homeland on the way
so to tie things into faith, it’s always been beautiful to me that even though humans seem to have a particular distance from faith, what appears as the hand of fate in Lord of the Rings (and is clarified as the will of the gods in the Silmarillion) is explicitly kind and caring towards individuals. it’s a very comforting look at divinity, and i’ve always found it very sweet that even though they’re far away and have never been as close with these particular children, the Valar still explicitly and actively love them all the same
#ive had this banging around my brain for a while#lotr meta#lotr#lord of the rings#boromir#the silmarillion#faramir
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Doriath
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During the rebuild on the Southern stretch of the Greater Greenwood that has been reclaimed and cleared of its Necromancer the three Elf Lords come to see oc who is being helped by a team of workers to fill a series of connected fountains by supported lines of tubes from a nearby river. All with floating walkways across their surface to allow movement both across and around them.
“What is this structure inside the fountain? You built a kingdom for the fish?” Elrond asked in amusement.
“It’s Doriath.” Oc replied, “Each fountain has a different kingdom that has been sunk people from the Northern half used to live in.”
“That is not Doriath.” Elrond tried to reply without hurting oc’s feelings. “My parents ruled Doriath. That is not how I recall it.”
“Well for one you weren’t towering over it, some thousands of years ago. And two, these are built off of sketches King Thranduil has drawn over the past few thousands of years. He was considerably older than you when the city fell. I spent three months on the models others have made of the other kingdoms. Including ones from Lord Celeborn.”
“Not considerably, merely an age.” Thranduil spoke and oc raised a brow at him.
“That is precisely how it looked,” Maglor, who had been creeping closer spoke up in his peer over Elrond’s shoulder to not be taken as any threat to this model as he had been to the initial city.
“I would know the city where I was born and raised!” The Elf Lord tried to argue only to delve into a hushed discussion with Maglor on what he did recall to counter small details on the stained glass and tile built kingdom.
“Why are did you build the cities to be flooded inside the fountains?” Celeborn asked in a curious but amused tone.
Oc answered plainly, “Just in case the Valar wanted to try and sink the models just as they did the originals.” Grins cracked across Thranduil and Celeborn’s faces to the sound of a throaty water bubble laced deep chuckle that came from the river nearby where Ulmo’s watery figure was seen helping the water along into the tunnels to fill the fountains alongside the workers. “Ulmo gets it.”
Thranduil at sight of his son fresh off his round of patrols calls him over, “Little Leaf, come see Doriath.” Widening a grin across the Prince’s face to get a mini tour of the city from above and where the shop was his parents used to run within the marketplace.
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Headcanons of Valar and Maiar hierarchy in Imbë verse.
The Aratar or Māchanumāz:
We know them, the Eight (+ Melkor).
Manwë
Ulmo
Aulë
Námo
Oromë
Varda
Yavanna
Nienna
Higher Maiar:
Maiar who are exceptionally powerful and can almost be considered rivalling with the Valar. Unsurprisingly they are associated with Aratar*
Mairon
Eönwë
Ossë
Arien
Ilmarë
Melian
*Melian while being formerly affiliated with Vána, is also said to have been kin to Yavanna.
Arien’s affiliation can either be Vána, Estë or Varda depending on tolkien’s lore version. In my verse she is officially affiliated with Varda but also works for Vána.
Olórin is not in this category as his strength lies with his empathy and compassion but he is nonetheless unofficially considered as part of it by many.
Regular Valar:
The rest of them we know by names:
Tulkas
Irmo
Estë
Nessa
Vairë
Vána
OC:
Enkí (Vala of Time)
Regular Maiar:
Tillion: Maia of Oromë
Uinen: Maia of Ulmo
Curumo: Maia of Aulë
Aiwendil: Maia of Yavanna
Salmar: Maia of Ulmo
Ómar: Maia of Ulmo
Pallando: Maia of Oromë
Alatar: Maia of Oromë
OCs:
Aramírë: Maia of Aulë
Oryalda: Maia of Yavanna
Catalma: Maia of Vána
Calaimë: Maia of Oromë
Hatalim: Maia of Tulkas
Nilmírëa: Maia of Varda
Lesser Maiar:
The Maiar that are part or Arda's natural world. Made of those who wear Kelvar or Olvar raiment and those who are employed for the more regular and daily tasks in Aman.
The most famous Maiar wearing animals skins are:
Huan
The Eagles of Manwë
A note on Úmaiar:
As for the corrupted beings that Melkor brought from beyond the confines of Arda, little is known.
Valaraukar (Balrogs) were once great spirits of fire, possibly on par with Arien's might.
Many corrupted beings might initially have been lesser Maiar corrupted early on (whether willingly or not is up to debate.)
The case of Ungoliant:
Not much is known of the being clothing herself as a great spider. Her primaeval relation with Unlight tends to indicate she was not from Arda nor Eä but might have come from the endless Void. Loremasters have long speculated if she was indeed a by-product of the Discord during the Music, or if other beings inhabited the Void That Is Without - but without being able to offer evidence against such speculations, none have dared to formulate a concrete hypothesis as of yet.
All it is known is that Ungoliant possesses some inate power that allowed herself to remain cloaked to Manwë's surveillance and was able to pose a serious threat to Melkor himself. Recently, a small group of scientists came forward with the theory that the Great Spider might be the counterbalance of Light itself - as embodied by Eru Ilúvatar Himself, a theory of Matter and Antimatter had followed the paper but had so far only resulted in various escalating arguments amongst academics with some arguing against the Presumption of assuming the existence of another Being equal to Ilúvatar. [Extract of Tirion's Sc. Newsletter, Fifth Age - Sept.09]
#cassy.tolkien#the maiar club#serie: I Falmalinnar imbë met#imbë verse#dropping worldbuilding on your lap instead of a new chapter but it is ainurweek so therefore i am in Themed#if i made Arien into a higher maia its because shes Everything and deserves it 😌 💯#i think using the maiar club + imbë verse tag is something i will continue instead of the serie one#since i might change atfb#oh well
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tiny little fluff ficlet because some people informed me i was making finrod suffer too much
credit to @eilinelsghost for Gildor's Telerin name Elenaráto!
When Findaráto arrived back to Alqualonde and home at last, he was exhausted: he had been in Tirion far longer than expected. He had intended the visit as a short one, visiting at Turukáno’s request, for his cousin was having trouble in love and wanted a sympathetic ear. Then Finwë, dropping in unexpectedly one evening, had asked him to stay a few more six-days in the palace, for Maitimo had managed to wrench himself free of his considerable responsibilities at Formenos to visit the city.
So Findaráto had stayed, and when Maitimo had arrived he and Findekáno, Turukáno and Findaráto, had made a merry foursome, and then a very tired one. Findekáno was full of boundless energy, and Turukáno and Maitimo both would follow him anywhere, so Findaráto had been dragged on hike upon hike, to party after party, hunting trip upon hunting trip. Really, he had thought gloomily, Artaresto would have been a much better choice if Turukáno was going to drag him up so many mountains - but Artaresto was inseparable from Elenaráto, and anyway he and Turukáno did not get along very well. They were both, Findaráto thought, too serious.
The visit had nevertheless been delightful, and the parting hard, so that Findaráto arrived home quite late and fell asleep almost immediately. He was tired, and felt he had more than earned his rest. I wonder how my family has done without me, he thought hazily as he fell asleep. I hope they are all well.
His dreams were soft, silver-lit things. He was sitting on a hill, basking in the light of Telperion. Turukáno was flopped beside him. He was arguing passionately that ducks should be outlawed from Valinor.
“I don’t see why they should be cast out from the bliss of Aman,” Findaráto said in the dream. “What have they done?”
“They are very angry,” Turukáno explained earnestly, “and they disrespect Ulmo and Manwë.”
Suddenly a large duck waddled up to stand next to them. “Findaráto,” it croaked. “Well met.”
“Well met!” returned Findaráto, pleased to have made a friend.
The duck opened its beak to reveal sharp teeth. “Findaráto,” it said again. “Findaráto!” It snapped at him, digging into his shoulder.
“Turukáno!” Findaráto said desperately. “Help!”
Turukáno did not react; he smiled, and said, “You see?”
Findaráto flailed uselessly at the duck. It screamed his name again and tugged sharply on his braid -
His braid was being tugged. Findaráto’s eyes flew open to see an extraordinarily sticky face less than a handspan from his own, and extraordinarily sticky fingers wound in his hair.
Artanis beamed. “Findaráto!” she said. “You’re awake!”
“What?” said Findaráto. Then he said it again. “What?” He was just lucid enough to realize that he sounded idiotic. But, he thought with a groan, if Artanis was going to enter his bedroom just past the first Mingling, perhaps she did not deserve intelligent conversation.
Artanis giggled. She tugged on his braid again, and Findaráto winced. “Your hair is messy!” she said.
“It would not be messy if you hadn’t put your fingers in it,” Findaráto said, privately thinking that Artanis had no right to criticize. He blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to focus, and gently began to disentangle her little hands. They were very sticky.
“Artanis,” he began, hoping he was wrong, “is there jam on your hands?”
“No!” she said. “My hands are clean!”
“But there are purple stains on them - and on my blankets,” Findaráto observed. He finally loosed Artanis’ fingers from his braid, and inspected it. He groaned. “And in my hair! Artanis!”
Undaunted, his little sister squirmed downwards, kneeing him in the stomach as she threw her arms around his neck. “Then you will have to get up and wash!” she said cheerfully. “And then you can come play with me!”
Findaráto gasped for breath - how could someone so small have so many sharp corners? - and tried to drag his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. “Artanis,” he began, reasonably. “It is lovely to see you -”
“I am happy to see you too!” Artanis squealed, burrowing closer. She was dangerously close to kicking Findaráto’s mound of blankets entirely to the floor, and he grimly hung on. “Missed you!”
“I missed you too,” said Findaráto - for he had - “but I am very tired. Would you perhaps let me sleep at least until the Mingling is over?”
Artanis pouted. “But that’s boring.”
“Can Atar not play with you?” Findaráto suggested. He briefly struggled with himself, then decided an additional span of sleep was worth tossing away his loyalty to his brothers. “Or perhaps Artaresto?”
“Atya is still asleep,” said Artanis, “and Artaresto never wants to play with me. He always says he is too tired.”
“Why do you listen to him when he says he is too tired, and not me?” Findaráto demanded.
“Because he often is too tired,” said Artanis with one of her startling flashes of insight, “and you just want to sleep. I am much more fun than sleep!”
Findaráto scrubbed at his eyes again. He could not really argue, and he had missed Artanis. It was nice to be loved so uncomplicatedly.
“Besides,” Artanis added cheerfully, “I made you yullas!”
Findaráto was suddenly wide awake. “You what! Alone?”
“I am old enough!” Artanis insisted. “I made it just the way you like it!”
Findaráto tried to scramble out of bed, forgot about the snarl of blankets Artanis had wrapped about herself, and tumbled straight onto the floor.
“Why did I come home from Tirion?” he enquired of the ceiling, resignedly.
“Because you love us!” shouted Artanis. She clambered down from his bed and tugged at his hand.
“All right. All right!” said Findaráto. He clambered to his feet and followed her downstairs, hoping against hope that she had not destroyed anything important in the kitchen.
The room was surprisingly clean, lit by the cozy shell-lamps that Findaráto always missed when he was away. For a moment he simply stood, drawing in a deep breath. It was nice to wander into the twilit kitchen, smelling of salt rather than stone. The light of the Trees, so close to Tirion, could be overwhelming. And it made him break out into freckles everywhere! He did not know how Turukáno stood it.
Artanis darted in behind him and picked up a mug from the counter. “For you!” she said proudly.
There was a scattering of dried leaves upon the counter, and a bit of water, but Findaráto was deeply relieved to see that nothing had been broken. “Thank you, Artanis,” he said, taking the cup. “But please do not make yullas without someone who is grown! You could have burned yourself.”
“I could not!” Artanis returned. “I was very careful.”
“Yes, but your hands are very small and I do not want you to get hurt. It was kind of you to make it, though, winicë.” Findaráto took a sip, then froze and tried to keep his expression neutral. The drink was so sweet his tongue felt like it might shrivel. “Ah - what did you add to this, Artanis?”
“Honey!” said Artanis. “And sugar! I know you like your yullas to be sweet.”
“I - yes,” said Findaráto. “That was quite - er - thoughtful.”
“Do you like it?” said Artanis.
“I like it very much indeed,” lied Findaráto. He took a very small sip and set the mug carefully down. “Let me drink some water, and wash my hair, and then we can see what there is to do.”
Artanis’ face lit up. “May I comb your hair?” she asked. “And braid it after? I have learned a new braid from Ammë.”
Findaráto sighed; then smiled. “You may,” he said. “Only you must give me enough time to wash and dress.”
“I will!” Artanis said. She leaped forward and caught him around the waist, small head pressed into his side. “I missed you, Ingo.”
“And I you, winicë,” returned Findaráto.
It was nice, after all, to be home.
#finrod#galadriel#silm fic#my writing#lsdkjflkds more fluff i even gave finrod blankets by popular demand
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Any headcanons about Fingon & Anaire's relationship?
(sorry for taking approximately 400 years to answer this, oops)
Oh boy do I!
I headcanon that Anairë is a very devout, Vala-honoring woman, and she very much tried to pass that onto her children. (It only really took with Turgon, rip.) She gave her children mother-names corresponding to various Valar: Astaldo (Tulkas) for Fingon, Núrondil (Ulmo) for Turgon, Aldarindë (Oromë) for Aredhel*, and Sintamo (Aulë) for Argon.
*Someone else pointed out to me once that Írissë could actually be a reference to Irmo, which is a possibility I hadn’t considered! But personally I think it’s more likely that Írissë is her father-name, a reference to Fingolfin’s sister Írimë.
These mother-names were semi-prophetic, and also influenced her children to seek out a connection with their namesake Valar. Fingon is certainly very valiant, and I think that with encouragement from Anairë he trained under Tulkas for a time...but also, he probably ends up having a stronger connection with Manwë. Turgon was more inclined to spend time by the sea with his Arafinwëan cousins because of his mother-name, but no one could have guessed how important Ulmo would be to him in Beleriand. Aredhel was always a wild, free spirit, and likely would have traveled with Oromë’s Hunt regardless of her mother-name, but it was certainly something she used when arguing with her mother about whether it was proper for a lady to go hunting, and all in white at that! As for Argon, I think Anairë waited an unusually long time to name him, because she didn’t have foresight around him; only when he showed interest in smithing (which, while a very Noldorin trait, was unique to him among his immediate family) did she give him a name of her own.
...But as for Fingon and Anairë specifically, I think they frequently clashed on topics of religion, especially as Fingon grew up and started forming his own opinions. Of course, to Anairë, it looked an awful lot like his Fëanorian friends were “corrupting” him with their blasphemous ideas, but to Fingon it was an awakening to concepts his mother had sheltered him from. Fingon never quite shakes the foundation of his belief in the Valar, or specifically his fondness for Manwë and Tulkas, but his feelings toward them are much less reverential than Anairë’s. And when Fëanor and Maedhros start talking about how the Valar had betrayed them, were caging them, Fingon was inclined to agree, because he too was curious about Endórë, and he was very sympathetic to the Fëanorians’ grief over Míriel’s unjust death (if not their disdain/hatred for Indis and her line).
When I operate in a ’verse that includes Valarin homophobia, Anairë very much buys into that. Her latent feelings for Eärwen are suppressed, and she is openly disapproving of queerness, meaning that Fingon has even more reason to hide his relationship with Maedhros from his parents. Eventually she will experience a shaking of that faith, leading to her hooking up with Eärwen after the Darkening, but it will take a lot for her to get to a point where she doesn’t feel guilty about her own bisexuality...at which point she’ll be feeling guilty about how she treated her own kids about their queerness. (Because they are all queer—Fingon is gay, Turgon is a horrifically repressed bisexual, Aredhel is aro and bi, and Argon is aroace. And Fingolfin is also a repressed bisexual!)
When the Darkening comes, Anairë stands by her faith. She chooses her religion over her family, over her marriage and her children. It leaves her utterly alone. (She also chooses Eärwen, but she doesn’t want to admit why, at first.) She doesn’t regret her choice, not really, because Beleriand was horrible and killed her whole family (save Idril), but she also feels a lot of grief and guilt over not being there for them when they needed her.
Fingon takes very much after his mother in appearance, but not in most other ways. It takes a long time for them to fully reconcile after his re-embodiment, but when they do, they find that they have a lot more in common than they realized. They both love music (which they knew, but had forgotten), they both separately picked up knitting after the Darkening, they both express themselves best through actions rather than words. Eventually they manage to piece themselves back together, and engage as adults and equals rather than a mother trying to shape her eldest son, her heir, into the person she wanted him to be, rather than the person he was.
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I believe both Melkor and Ulmo eventually accept each other’s presence, begrudgingly so, for the sake of Manwë, even if in the end the one who’s really winning is, of course, Melkor. Like even canonically you can argue that Melkor dominates Manwë’s thoughts if not in body.
Mmm, yes, Manwë has multiple partners (he has a lot of love to give), who all have to find ways of dealing with each other, lmfao. In my head, Varda has always been largely accepting of it. I don't see her as very romantically inclined anyway; she loves Manwë fiercely, but she's not possessive, nor jealous. As long as his lovers don't hurt him (looking at you, Melkor), she's fine with them. Also, I wanna note that Varda is Manwë's main spouse -- and she will continue to be so, even in a redeemed Melkor in Arda Unmarred type of scenario.
Ulmo's acceptance of the situation hinges on the partners in question. He greatly respects Varda, sees how much she loves her husband and vice versa, so he has never resented her place in Manwë's heart. Is it possible that Ulmo is sometimes a tiny bit jealous of Varda? Sure. But it's a harmless sort of jealousy, one that he doesn't care to linger on. Melkor, however, is... a different story, lol. Ulmo rationally knows that Melkor is half of Manwë's soul, but it still destroys him to see the one he loves the most be betrayed over and over again. Ulmo wants to rip Melkor apart for hurting Manwë so deeply. So it would probably take a lot of time for Ulmo to fully accept Melkor as a part of Manwë's life. (He only ever gets around to it in Arda Unmarred, I think, though he'll never fully trust Melkor.)
Melkor is, simply put, an insanely possessive wildcat that wants to eviscerate everyone whom Manwë loves romantically. He -- begrudgingly, half-heartedly -- managed to somewhat deal with Varda being Manwë's spouse (he still sulks about it, though, like a toddler), but whenever Ulmo's around Manwë, he's like
Safe to say Manwë is Not Impressed. Nor is Ulmo. (Varda's sniggering from the other side of the room.)
Sorry, Anon, I went off on a tangent. :") But yeah, I agree with you. Varda is Manwë's wife, Ulmo is his BFF & lover, but Melkor is Manwë's soulmate. I don't know whether that means Melkor necessarily "wins", but it's an enviable position to be in, for sure.
#manwë#melkor#ulmo#varda#manwë x melkor#manwë x ulmo#manwë x varda#tolkien#i love thinking about Them (manwë and his three big loves)#i've also thought /at length/ about adding manwë x fëanor to the mix but that's for another post
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Kinslayings and stuff
I’ve seen a few posts now arguing that Dior should have been able to anticipate that the Fëanorians would attack Doriath after he rebuffed their demand for the Silmaril. Other people have argued against the this idea on practical grounds elsewhere, and more cogently than I could, so I’m not going to get into that. But one thing I've not seen talked about so far is what an aberration the First Kinslaying was, and how no one could reasonably have expected the Fëanorians to go on to commit a second (let alone a third!).
It’s one of those things that harks back to the mythological traditions that Tolkien drew on, where kinslaying is one of the great transgressions. It turns up in Scandinavian mythology, Celtic mythology, pretty much any mythological tradition, as well as Christianity, as a particularly abhorrent act. And that carries over into the Silmarillion. The Valar don’t seem to bother with Fëanor’s seditious talk, but his threat to kill his brother earns him a banishment. And the Doom of Mandos is a response to the slaughter at Alqualondë specifically. Where the Valar bring no judgement against the Noldor for their rebellion, it’s the slaying of their own kin that earns them divine retribution, and lasting banishment from the Blessed Realm.
Working within that framework, then, the First Kinslaying is something way, way beyond an “ordinary” war crime. (An unfortunate way of putting it, I agree, but you know what I’m getting at.) It’s an affront against the natural order. It’s an atrocity and then some. So, apart from anything else, I don’t think Dior could really have expected the Fëanorians to go all-out and attack Doriath. One kinslaying was enough to bring the direst and most unforgiving level of divine punishment down on their heads - who could really have expected them to go and do it all over again?
(Tangential, but possibly interesting: according to the old Irish Brehon Laws, someone guilty of kinslaying was to be banished by setting them adrift in a boat with no oars and leaving them to the mercy of the sea. I’d say there was a definite echo of that in the Silmarillion, especially considering how unmerciful Ulmo and Uinen are to the Noldor as they sail north.)
#The Silmarillion#half-baked meta#tbqh most of what I know about kinslaying is from Irish sources#I don't know very much about the Scandinavian sources on it#but it'd be very interesting to know more and see how they might've influenced Tolkien's story
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