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and-the-stars-collided · 1 year

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Ainur as Aesthetics:

Melkor — eye-rolls, either sleep for the week or sleep is for the weak, great music taste, extremely passionate, smarter than you'd think, abandoned cities, alcohol, doesn't care about opinions, midnight hours, black coffee, hates humanity, cold hands, barely-there eyeliner, sharp smiles, lace-up boots, doesn't like to be told what to do, anger so blinding that you forget where and who you are, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, bad decisions, their words can hit you like a gunshot, the chilling sensation of metal on your skin, sharp claws ready to slash anyone they encounter, shattered antique mirrors, long dark scarves, dark and tousled hair, swallowing hard, a little broken.

Manwë — pale white snow, red cheeks, dried flowers that used to be the colour of the sun, quiet half-smiles, sunlight coming through an open window in the morning, hair tucked behind ears, gives the most thoughtful gifts, always neat, sparkly jewellery, beautiful poetry, comforting hugs, light footsteps, kisses on cheeks, a laugh like wind chimes, thunderstorms that you feel in your chest, intelligent eyes, collector of small objects, windswept hair, loves their friends with almost an unhealthy amount of loyalty, the colour of the sky at dusk, a crisp autumn breeze, soft hair, gold-flecked souls, the one who is there for you even when you think you don't need them, singing under their breath, smiles as the rain falls down and laughs as their hair lifts in the breeze.

Varda — cracked spines of leather-bound classics, sharing pieces of your soul with the world, starting revolutions with simple words, rosewater, cherry blossom petals floating through the wind, making promises, midnight conversations, writing into abysmal nothingness, stargazing, knowing smiles, doesn't open up easily, soft skin, crystals, a night where the clouds hide the moon, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets, studying things that do not exist, bright flashes of light outside your window, silk bedsheets, mysterious, handwritten notes, stays up so late it's early, plays quiet music for ambiance, fingertips stained with ink.

Ulmo — bodies full of stories, a will that ebbs and flows, lazy smiles, no real devotion to anything but existence itself, wordless lullabies, glassy blue eyes, moves with grace and rhythm, late night swims, blue tie dyed sheets, flowing outfits, the rough ocean at night, tall waves and bitter winds, salty hair, long limbs, kind of sad and tired but you've never see them cry, goes with the flow, quiet voice but loud meaning, walks with purpose, always looks their best, very kind and giving, seashells, loud laughter, perfect posture, habit of overthinking, bare feet, ice-cold lemonade, laying on the ground to soak up the sun, sand in the air, intricate designs, high ceilings, dim lights, bitten nails.

Aule — confident, likes to perform, acts cool but is secretly emotional underneath, bold/dark colours, loves challenges, gets mad and forgives just as quickly, wouldn't change for anyone, laughing so loudly that strangers stare at you, running around like crazy person with your lover, compliments a stranger's crazy hair colour and feeling so good when they smile, unhealthy amounts of candy, fiery red sunsets, getting back up after being knocked down, they know that their friends are right behind them wherever they go, the burn in your lungs after chasing something you'll never be able to catch, always does their own thing.

Yavanna — warm days, soft smiles, making sure everyone is happy, walking barefoot, falling asleep in the sun, wishes everyone would be kinder, mugs of too-sweet tea, the person who screams don't kill the spider, adores animals, covered in freckles, one can never quite tell exactly what their eye colour is, pointing to the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds, large yawns early in the morning, a question left unanswered, honey, one hand catching another, tea that is swallowed for its warmth and not the taste, faded patterns on well-loved t-shirts, dew beading on flower petals, the imprints tight socks leave behind, wanderlust's yearning pull.

Orome — long hair, loves nature and animals, mist, sharp features, dirt under their fingernails, very down to earth, always willing to help, the strong friend, always has new, interesting facts to tell, tough as all hell, doesn't love easily but always loves deeply, walking barefoot everywhere, wildflowers threaded into messy braids, laying in the afternoon sun, big adventures, crisp air, deeply opinionated, climbing the tallest trees around, muddy feet, toothy smiles, accepting of everyone, follows their own path, stargazing off mountain cliffs, running through tall grass, folklore stories of fairies and dragons, a child at heart.

Nienna — honeyed and sulky dark summers, pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias, unkept promises, cinematic and shadowy, existing in a trance of melancholy, feels passionately though feigns detachment, slightly off-putting, their presence is announced but even if it wasn't you'd still know they were there, constantly underestimated, desperately afraid of silence, red-rimmed eyes, always appears serene, broken handwriting, short hair, foxes, dead leaves, large coats and scarves, numb fingers, old stone walls, steaming black tea, tears, gazing at a past lover down the hall, the smell before rain, old songs, nostalgia.

Námo — set features, eyes the color of dead souls, candles melting wax atop a piano, tragic smiles, an inexplicable sense of sharpness, hot tears, decaying cores, irreversible tornadoes, infectious whispers, heart is always pounding, doesn't like to be seen, nightmares, dark circles under their eyes that they can't hide, doesn't know their limits, slightly self-destructive, the silent one, bitter coffee, quiet observation, black eyeshadow, knows a bit of everything, no-nonsense, cold fingers and colder gazes, being misunderstood, sitting alone in a hard wood chair late at night, dead roses, losing a loved one too soon, moss covering broken gravestones, shattered glass, the taste of melancholy.

Irmo — glows when they talk, dewy eyes, radiates with a blessing from the sun, gentle hands, dandelions, white clouds, the shy warmth of the first days of spring, afternoon naps, soft pillows, carefree laughter, fields of reeds, basking in the moonlight, flower crowns, sunbathing in creeks, gloriously alive, hours among the leaves, kind soul, often lost in their own thoughts, nights spent watching the river, dancing in a circle, holding hands, soft clothes, sun kissed skin, always listening to music, either works too hard or not at all, warm smiles, dancing in the rain, catching fireflies, wanting to do everything and nothing all at once, innocent hope, paper stars in glass jars, bittersweet goodbyes, looking for beauty in everything, water-coloured skies.

Estë — dried orange garlands, snow on green tiled roofs, a bit in love, quills dipped in metallic ink, daydreaming, angelic singing, very fond of cuddling, homemade bread, constantly buying gifts for people, talkative, will hold your hand whenever and wherever, friends with almost everyone, convinced that sleeping at 10pm is late, strawberry ice cream, calming eyes, telling old stories, rosy cheeks, wanting the best for everyone, sunrises, loves nature, passionate about dreams, self-made flower crowns, will stay up late to comfort you, unexpected hugs from the back, not afraid to tell people they love them, humble.

Vairë — silver knitting needles, velvet skies filled with twinkling stars, red embroidery thread, hot black tea with spoonfuls of sugar, ballet shoes, hearts carved in birch bark, denim jackets, distant bells, foxgloves, rain moving over hills, cheek caresses, a bedroom left alone, walking in the mud and rain at dusk, resisting change, dead ends, unspoken feelings, finally coming home, looking up at the stars in hope of something more, simultaneously brimming with hope and lifeless, wiling the hours away, staring at the ceiling, wanting to write but not knowing the words, hiding from the world, afraid of the future, a sense of dread.

Vána — soft features, the smell of lavender, long walks in the sunshine, singing in a choir, sincere laughter, pastel colours, reading poetry aloud, baking cookies and sharing it with friends, kind gestures, painting on random objects, flower print clothes, lacy socks, handwritten love letters, forgiving people, graceful movements, writing poetry, roses, standing up for those who can't defend themselves, walks through nature, positivity, white lace, long hair, very graceful, always there for you, nostalgia of a time that you never knew, undeniably beautiful, the sweet breeze of a spring morning, slowing drifting off while laying on a green meadow, calm and collected, the best friend you could ask for.

Tulkas — loud laughter, hammocks, doesn't know when to stop, can't sleep, jacket with so many fixed holes it has been reduced to patchwork, flashing smiles, living on the edge, free spirit that will rip you to shreds if you dare to try and tame it, bloody knuckles, the moments of silence after a loud screaming match, riding into the sunset, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of fire on the air, running from person to person, unbridled chaos, aimless wandering, on the verge of greatness, call of the void, empty avenues, walking between worlds, wanting to hold the planets, melancholy nights, seeing things that aren't really there, wishing for more, overgrown unkempt gardens, bright colours against dark greens, tripping up on vines and logs, scraped knees.

Nessa — can go from laughing to serious fast if necessary, little bits of dark humour, staying up late, they do the little eyebrow thing when they get insulted, doodles, everybody else thinks they have friends but they don’t, red lipstick, lively, can be implosive, forgotten, mood swings like crazy, but very calm when they are happy, regrets decisions they made in the past, affectionately called a little brat, out until late in the afternoon of the next day, does not let anyone kill their vibe, seeing their escape in a person, the echo of your own steps on a tile floor, the sensation of being the only one left, a way that seems to have no end.

Eönwë — intimidating, has a soft side but only a few people see it, loves the forest, natural beauty, combat boots, deep thinker, false formality, a chord of music that breaks the silence, clouds rolling in, doesn't get angry but instead just fucking glares at you until you crumble, loves thunderstorms, mind like caverns, hands like stone, to hold or to hurt, heavy irises, earthquake tempers, unrequited love, soft voice, they know you whether you know them or not, lingering touches, people watching, the smell of old books and rain, faint music in the distance, won't let others break their friend's hearts, clearing their throat as a type of warning, moral righteousness, faith in humanity, towering buildings.

Mairon — sarcastic comments with a smile, glares that could kill, speaking in such a pretentious way that no one even understands you, obsession over studies, being a good person but getting corrupted, setting fire to the city, eyes like flames, heeled boots, soft aching hands buried in messy hair, ancient ruins, cups of tea gone cold, flawless eyeliner, impulsive decisions, false pretences, sickly sweet smiles, daunting realisations, masquerade masks, too stubborn to admit their regrets, waking up from a nightmare, hands cold to the bone, chest pains, the sharp cold of winter, rotting apples, dark circles under the eyes from not sleeping for days, hands stripped from over-washing.

So! Still trying to work out my masterlist and first few posts I have pre-written. In the meantime, please enjoy this messy aesthetic thingy.

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yandere-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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would you write a headcanon of how valar and maiar fall for darling and start to be obsessed with them? (did I do it right?? I'm so nervous lol)

❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰, 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 - 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 . . .

♡. 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

they remember it so vividly. the day that you walked into their life. passing by them in all your perfectness. your beauty, your demeanour, the small little smile that you gave them once you caught their unintentional stare. many would call it just a chance encounter. the gardens, a banquet, a mere passing interaction - but oh, you will scorn their mind for all eternity. did you feel it too? the connection that they felt? the song of your fëa, surely it was singing for them? it will drive them mad and they will be eager to meet you again. when you recognise them, their heart would sore. so you did feel the same? oh, if only you knew what you had gotten yourself into. they'll make it their life's mission to learn every little thing about you. stalking, you say? no, they're just lovingly learning more about their soulmate. now they are convinced that you are meant to be theirs. and it certainly would be unfortunate if you didn't think so too

𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆, 𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒌𝒂𝒔, ulmo, vana, 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂, yavanna, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏, aiwendil, 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆, luilire

♡. 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

you were most likely one of the few people outside of their family to show them true kindness. it felt like they were on air. that day that you aided them with something, or defended their name from others. they remember how fast their heart beat, how their song shifted to a thousand symphonies as they gazed at you with wonder. to think. . . that someone actually cared. from that day they grew hungry for your affection and favour. eager to seek you out and hope that you would continue to show them the kindness and attention that they were greedy for. you made them feel so. . . complete. they've never loved someone so wholeheartedly, so completely, until the day your touch grazed their hand and you smiled at them so warmly. they hope that you feel the same and will do just about anything to gain your attention, even if it's subtly. and should you place your attention elsewhere? you'll regret it.

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, aule, nessa, 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, curumo, gothmog, osse, 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏, almion, 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆

♡. 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

they have known you for the longest time. it feels like they've loved you for even longer. they are one of your closest companions, the person that you turn to when in need of aid. the one that you cry on when you're sad. the one that has been with you through every good and each bad. they boast in such a fact - that they know you so intimately and that they are the person that you rely on. . . but there is a deeper sense of longing within them, a yearning for something more. they feel possessive over you. after all, aren't they your everything like you are to them? why can't you see that the two of you are meant to be together? every time you bring up someone else they feel a bit of their sanity chipping away. they'll make you see how much you need them. how much they love you. after all, if you didn't feel the same, why did you lead them on? you have to take responsibility. they'll make sure of it, make sure that you know who you belong to.

𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐, orome, 𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒂, este, 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆, ilmare, arien, melian, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒆, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆, erulisse, 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒆

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 6 months

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Comfort: Yavanna x Varda x Manwë

For this artwork by @the-red-butterfly

For @fall-for-tolkien scribbles & drabbles 2023

Minors DNI | 🔞

#scribbles & drabbles 2023 #Varda #yavanna #Manwë #Varda x Yavanna x Manwë #Yavnna smut #Varda smut #Manwë smut #fanfiction

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lamemaster · 8 months

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Glimpse of You

Request: Can i request a Maedhros x female teleri reader fic? They were madly in love with each other but fate had other plans for them. They would have been married within a few years, but Maedhros took the oath, which lead him to be on the opposite side. The Noldor's left valinor. Thousands of years later, reader, has an fateful encounter with Maedhros, who had just returned from the Halls of Mandos. Will fate give them another chance? The ending is up to you. I love the way you describe things. 💕

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Maedhros x Vanya Reader

Summary :It is just an infatuation you tried to remind yourself of, but all those thoughts seem to fly away the second you tried to muster them. It was a mistake. Hope in such situations was a cruel fate.

AN: Thanks for requesting. Soooo I already have a Maedhros x Teleri reader fic. Which is why I went with a Vanya reader. Hopefully that works.

“Maitimo,” a frail figure shuffled through the woods. Deep dark woods where once Ungoliant hid from light. Woods that were forgotten by the people of Aman. No one wandered in the unhabitable cursed forest. Even the beasts of Yavanna and Oromë had abandoned them. Whatever was left behind was twisted by the corruption of some unknown force.

In those woods walked one elleth. Aimless, without another companion, she walked as if searching for something. Something obscured by the darkness. Her own light dimmed with the passing of time. Every day the dark of the forest clung closer to her. Yet, she continued her journey.

By now her eyes, which had once shined with the divine light of the two trees, dulled. They seemed to be glazed as if lost in a dream-like state. Long golden tresses that had once shined with the glow of Laurelin were now matted with dirt and debris.

Weeks of restless walking had worn her feet now bled with countless untreated wounds and blisters. Whatever shoes she had been wearing were lost long ago but nothing seemed to break the trance that lay upon the elleth.

In quiet whispers, tearful pleas, or panicked screams, she called for someone. One name came to her lips. She uttered it like an unanswered prayer. Tears had dried a while ago. Elleth who had once held the fire of Illuvatar in her now nothing more than a wraith.

Stumbling on the wayward roots, she fell multiple times but no matter how hard the fall, she stood back up. Even as her breath became too heavy for her body and the trees closed around her, she pulled herself up.

“Illuvatar! y/n, he is coming this way.” A group of Vanya elleth huddled together. Together they whispered excitedly. One of the elleth in the group, you tried to swat your friend as you tried to hide away from the unwanted attention that your friend had bestowed upon you.

There seemed to be a hum of excitement in the palace of King Ingwe. The reason for this upheaval was the Noldorian princes who now made their way toward the court to pay their respects to the King of Vanyar.

It was an astounding event because these two princes were not sons of Prince Nolofinwe or Prince Arafinwe. They were sons of Crown prince Feanor. Prince Nelyafinwe and Prince Makalaure.

Rumors around the city said that their reason for the sudden visit was related to the second youngest son of Crown Prince Feanor. It was not unknown that Prince Makalaure held a deep love for music and songs. His craft was famous all over Valinor. So, many had assumed that the reason for the princes’ visit must have something to do with music. After all, Vanyar were known for their songs and poetry.

"By Varda, he is indeed well-formed," your friend exclaimed as she gazed at the Noldorian prince. The palace of King Ingwe was abuzz with excitement as the Noldorian princes, Prince Nelyafinwe and Prince Makalaure, made their way toward the court to pay their respects to the King of Vanyar.

This was an exceptional event because these two princes were not sons of Prince Nolofinwe or Prince Arafinwe; they were the sons of Crown Prince Feanor. Rumors circulating in the city suggested that their sudden visit might be related to the second youngest son of Crown Prince Feanor. Prince Makalaure was renowned for his deep love for music and songs, which were famous all over Valinor. Many assumed that the reason for the princes' visit had something to do with music, considering the Vanyar's reputation for their songs and poetry.

Your friend, however, appeared to care little about the reason for the visit. She had come to the court that day with one purpose in mind—to catch a glimpse of the most handsome son of Feanor.

Prince Nelyafinwe was admired by many. His honey-sweet words and unparalleled looks left many elleth stuttering and blushing uncontrollably. In fact, your group of elleth friends had spent hours meticulously preparing for this day. They had braided their hair with great care, and some had even purchased new dresses specifically for the Noldorian prince's visit. Many among them dreamed of a forbidden romance that would set both the courts of Taniquetil and Tirion on fire.

Amidst the crowd that had gathered for the prince's arrival were you and your chatty friend, who seemed incapable of staying quiet. A part of your mind couldn't help but wonder if her incessant talking might indeed draw the prince's attention, though perhaps not for the right reasons.

While you had put in a considerable effort to look your best that day, you didn't harbor much faith in the romantic fantasies swirling around you. You had seen the prince before, and despite his tall stature, soft-spoken nature, and enchanting green eyes, you had kept your feelings hidden.

Your father was not a renowned craftsman like Mahtan, nor was he an influential courtier. He was a tutor, dedicated to teaching elflings to read and write. Your mother had been a librarian, spending her days among scrolls. Growing up as an only child, your life had been uneventful but peaceful.

As you tried to silence your friend's chatter with your hand, you noticed disapproving glances directed your way. You attempted to avoid awkward eye contact with the onlookers when you suddenly locked eyes with the Noldorian prince. Panic surged within you as you realized he was staring directly at you. Your friend had calmed down somewhat, but you were frozen in place, feeling as if your entire being had ignited.

You attempted to remind yourself that it was merely an infatuation, but all rational thoughts fled the moment you tried to grasp them. They vanished completely the instant the eldest Feanorian prince bestowed upon you the gentlest of smiles. He looked at you in a way that no one ever had before. With one smile, Prince Nelyafinwe shattered every last bit of your self-restraint.

"Y/n! He looked your way!" Your friend's excited voice pulled you out of your stupor, and you tore your gaze away from Prince Nelyafinwe. Without a second thought, you seized your protesting friend and hurriedly retreated from the bustling crowd. You blocked out whatever your friend was saying, realizing that hope in such situations could be a cruel fate.

Looking at your retreating back, Nelyafinwe felt weird. He had intended to spot the elleth who was so openly impressed by his well-formedness, but when his eyes found the loud elleth, he could not ignore you next to her. You, who were unsuccessfully trying to quiet down your friend. The endearing pink that dusted your cheeks made his heart skip a beat. A smile had made its way onto his face. He knew his smiles well and had mastered them as a politician, but this smile was unlike any other. Then, just as you made eye contact, his heart felt full.

In that quick second, he saw your eyes widen. The pink of your cheeks darkened as you both gazed at each other. Y/n, your name, he heard as her friend shook you with the force of Tulkas. Flinching, you rushed away without a look back, leaving Nelyafinwe a little disappointed.

His smile remained yet; the emotion that had lingered in his eyes moments ago was now gone. Just like you, the name he had heard.

Hidden in a tucked-away tree in the royal garden, a nightingale sang a song. A song that had started to weave itself with a momentary glance.

And so, it came to pass.

Love came to your doorstep and barged in without so much as a knock. Like an uninvited guest, it made itself comfortable. With every passing moment, it blended itself into you. Becoming a part of you. Taking over your life, your senses, and your entire being. It took everything until all that was left was a wandering wraith.

Ages had passed. Sins had been repaid. But one still burned in penance. One ellon who after eons repenting in the hall of Mandos, now knelt in front of the dark woods. With every rise of the Sun, he made his way to the same forest and waited. He waited yet; nothing came. None answered his calls. Engulfing darkness remained, unwashed by tears shed.

“Y/n,” he called out.

“Y/n…”

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #silmarillion x reader #noldor elves #maedhros x reader #vanya reader #maedhros #angsty #angst #there's nothing else here but angst

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nyarnamaitar · 2 months

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Ulmo Comforts His King

(AKA a small Ulmo x Manwë drabble I wrote in 5 minutes and decided to throw into the Void)

— — — — — —

He is still not looking at you. He raised his eyes briefly, yes, to meet yours, but he quickly lowered them again. His face is very pale and he seems smaller somehow, curled into himself. He has always been quiet by nature, contemplative, the trappings of his position forcing him to speak more and louder than he would do if he were not crowned king. But this is no comfortable quiet of his; his features too neutral, the curve of his spine too tense.

“Highest?” you ask, trying to get his full attention, trying to connect as you have always done whenever you are together. “Manwë?” you add, pushing, when he remains silent. You are growing desperate, you realise. It has been a while since you have last had a real, private moment with your dearest friend. You miss him. At first, when Melkor — Morgoth, the Eldar call your foe now, deservedly— betrayed you and yours, destroyed the Trees, and fled to his stronghold in the North, Silmarils in hand, you came speeding to your king, and during and in-between the long hours of council, you fought the urge to pull him to the side and let the words I told you so, did I not? He was never worthy of your mercy, let alone your love roll from your lips, but you fear that he heard them anyway. Ever you have failed to keep your heart hidden from him.

And now it has come to this: the radiance of your lord dimmed, his heart and soul surrounded by tall walls, his eyes averted from yours.

And though his demeanor does not come as a surprise — your kinsmen warned you — it still pains you to the very core of your being. He barely speaks to me, Námo said, and when he does, he only ever asks for advice of a political nature. He stares at Vairë’s tapestries in silence. He no longer visits Irmo’s gardens.

We used to enjoy sitting together, Yavanna and Vána told you, enjoying the sight of flowers in bloom and the touch of the wind in the meadow. Now he rarely strays from his mountain home. Even the birds feel his absence; their songs are muted.

My love is grieving, Varda confided, he needs time — or so he told me. But I know his heart and I worry. Sea King — Ulmo — friend — will you not talk to him?

So now you are here, in front of him, yet no words are sufficient to encompass the enormity of what you feel, what you wish to tell him. I know you are ashamed; do not be. I know you believe I judge you; I do not — I never did — I only ever sought to protect you. I know you find yourself unworthy of your station; do not condemn yourself so. You are by far the worthiest among us. Please believe me. Please allow me to stand by you, as I have always done. Do not push me away, where I cannot find you.

His soft-spoken words, almost whispers, take you out of your reverie. “Sea King — Ulmo — what brings you here?” he asks, as if he cannot quite grasp why anyone would willingly seek out his company. It is this uncertainty, this self-hatred you hear in his voice that makes something balk within you, scream in outrage. You have to make this right. Now. You go to him, almost running, and before he can flee into hiding, you take his hands and kiss his wrists — his pulse is like the thunder that precedes a storm —, his open palms. You pull him closer to you and you look up. The walls are down, finally leveled, and you see tears clouding his blue eyes. He bows his head in sorrow. You embrace him, and he goes willingly, curls himself against your chest. Something slumbering within you unwinds and comes to life. From this day forth, you swear to yourself, you will not waver from his side.

#manwë x ulmo #ulmo x manwë #ulmanwë #manwë #manwe #ulmo #tolkien #i’m in my feelings y’all

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unendingwanderlust · 4 months

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A cute, fluffy little something for OCKissWeek and Femslash February featuring two of my favorite old ladies (though in this story they're just babies). Enjoy!

TITLE: Sunrise RATING: G WARNINGS: None. RELATIONSHIPS: Eregil/Carlaerneth (OFC x OFC) WORD COUNT: 760 SERIES: A World Of Our Own

SUMMARY: Watching the sunrise in the woods outside of Menegroth should be pretty uneventful.

Unless one is in love with her childhood best friend, that is…

READ ON AO3 or below:

Although the two cousins snuck out of Menegroth together so as to watch the sunrise bathe the holly forest of Region gold, somewhere along the way Eregil lost Lúthien. If she had to guess, the princess was with Daeron in the woods, dancing to the melody of his flute.

Not that it mattered much, as Doriath was the safest realm on Middle Earth. No harm would come to either of them as long as they stayed within its borders, in the cozy protection of the queen’s girdle. Besides, Eregil had something else in mind; specifically, someone else.

Calaerneth waited at their usual rendezvous spot at the glade, brown hair braided with the wildflowers that blossomed in spring. A covered basket rested next to her, and the skirts of her light green dress pooled around her. “You made it.”

Eregil had worn navy blue so that no one would notice the grass stains and inquire. She joined Calaerneth on the ground. “Of course I would.”

Calaerneth raised the cloth that covered her basket. “I picked mushrooms. Perhaps I could make soup for you tonight, for dinner? I promise, these mushrooms will not give you strange visions. This time, I checked my book twice!”

Eregil chuckled. “Unfortunately, I cannot. Uncle Thingol finds it very important that the whole family dines together every night.”

Calaerneth tried to control her disappointment so that it would not show in her face- and failed.

“But he never said anything about lunch,” Eregil said. “Would that be acceptable instead?”

Calaerneth grinned and nodded. “Yes! That would be great!”

A deep blue overtook the sky just before the sun would appear. The forest around them was still and peaceful, its little critters slumbering inside tree trunks or among leaves.

Eregil yearned to hold Calaerneth’s hand, to lace their fingers together and never let go. They used to do that as elflings, but then adolescence had come, and it had added new meaning to each gesture that they dared not explore. How could they, when one was royalty and the other a lowborn? Even if Calaerneth’s status was ignored, the fact that their marriage would be a fruitless one would never be. It was Eregil’s duty to the Crown to continue the bloodline eventually.

The fierce glow of the sun rose between the trees as the clouds lazily rolled by in the spring breeze. The world transformed from cold and blue into golden and gentle.

Calaerneth fiddled with her dress, her hands, even the grass. She cleared her throat. “You know, according to the texts, the sun is a new invention. There was a time when there was no moon either. When Morgoth and Ungoliant destroyed the Two Trees, Telperion the Silver and Laurelin the Gold, Arda was plunged into complete darkness…”

The sunlight danced in Calaerneth’s eyes, one brown and one blue, and oh, Eregil was in so much trouble!

“…but through the combined power of Yavanna and Varda, Laurelin produced a single fiery fruit before it died, which the Great Smith Aulë-”

Eregil leaned forward and pressed their mouths together, silencing the rest of the speech-length sentence.

They had kissed before when they were elflings: innocent little pecks on the cheek, forehead, or mouth. It was a gesture of affection between two best friends who had grown up together and nothing more. However, something about their current kiss was far more serious, as if the brief contact of their lips had birthed a whole new universe within Eregil.

When Eregil pulled back, her heart pounded. “I am sorry, I interrup-”

A gentle hand grasped her jaw and then they were kissing again, slow and passionate in the golden sunlight.

They only paused for breath, but something caught Calaerneth’s attention. She was looking at a spot over Eregil’s shoulder, eyes wide as a doe’s.

“Let me guess,” Eregil sighed. “Lúthien is right behind me…”

“Yes.” Lúthien crossed her arms and tried to assume a stern look, but the mirth that danced in her eyes betrayed that she was seconds away from a giggling fit. “I apologize for ruining your attentive sunrise-watching, but we must head back before ada realizes that we are gone.”

With a grumble of words extremely unsuitable for royalty, Eregil rose to her feet. She helped Calaerneth up and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her pointed ear.

“I will see you at lunch?” Calaerneth asked.

“Of course.” Eregil pecked her lips, followed her cousin down the path that led to the city, and braced herself for the merciless teasing that would follow…

#ockiss24 #eden writes #eden's moodboards #oc: eregil #oc: calaerneth #series: a world of our own #femslash february

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urwendii · 1 month

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Late WIP Sunday.

We're heading into Lost Tales territory babes. Eönrien but make it Fionwë x Urwendi.

"It is a strange thought." Fionwë exclaimed, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Obviously, Urwendi would not be aware of the hidden humour in this, a little something Varda loved to tease his father with - an off comment from his part during an exchange with Yavanna.

"I suppose so?" The Maia answered, confusion plain on her face and he bowed his head down, briefly explaining how the Valarindi were not necessarily as different as the Maiar order.

#otp: he of the sun #beside writing Eönwë as Fionwë is just the best. hes even more babey but he is a nepo babey too with a crush for the older badass fire lady #also if you got the ref youre a good person 👏🏻

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eerieechos · 1 year

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Hi! Sorry if i disturb you. I really like your art style and i saw some of your silm ocs. Please, do tell tell more about them! I d love to hear x) If you are willing, ofc!

Thank you so much!!! You didn’t disturb me at all I love asks 🥰🥰 especially about my ocs!

I have 3 silm/lotr ocs (I’m sure I’ll make more at some point lol) but here are the girlies:

This is Morianar, I made her waaaaay back in middle school. She was one of my first ocs ever and when I made her she was Morianar Greenleaf, Legolas’ sister, but she’s grown a ton in the decade since. She’s so iconic that the url of my Tolkien blog is her name ( @morianar ). Morianar is a Moriquendi Avari, meaning she was one of the first elves to be awakened in Cuiviénen after Varda finished creating the final stars. She has forgotten her old name and instead ops to use the name given to her during the first age, Morianar, meaning Dark Sun. After wandering Arda until the final years of the Trees. She then settles in Greenwood with many other Silvan and establishes the kingdom of Greenwood. She is accepting of the Sindarian refugees from Doriath and Sirion in a very “this could be fun” kind of way. She is much more involved in the events of the 2nd age. She fights (unwillingly) alongside Oropher in the Dead Marshes and in the War of the Last Alliance and the The Battle of Dagorlad. She steps up to lead the armies of Greenwood in place of Thranduil when he is distraught with grief after the deaths of his wife, mother and father, speaking for him in war councils with the other Elven lords. During the 3rd age she is captain of the guard of Mirkwood and fights in the Battle of Five Armies. During the War of the Ring she fights for her home in Mirkwood and follows Legolas to Ithilien afterwards. She stays until every silvan elf has departed for Valinor. She then wanders Middle Earth until February 17 in the year 6592 of the 4th age, sailing to Valinor on the very final elven ship after running out of excuses to stay on Arda. Because of her age and status she usually ends up becoming the reluctant mom friend of any group she’s apart of, she’s extremely competent in all things weapons and survival and will always be down to get drunk and start a fight. She’s a very “do as I say not as a do” kind of person :)

This is Nallámoro Lothmeril, she is a Maia of Irmo and Yavanna who decided to stay on Arda after The War of Wrath. She lives in various forests and caves and becomes kind of a local cryptid in whatever town she’s closest to and if you come across her she’ll give you a weird vague riddle about your future. She’s well known among the Ents and the Dúnedain rangers. Sometimes a stray hobbit or elf will encounter her and get one helluva story out of it. She’s 10 feet tall and is just a big weirdo I ❤️ her so much

Quellë is my last lotr oc, unfortunately I don’t have any actual drawings of her yet and her personality is still kind of up in the air lol. All I know about her so far is that she’s a ñoldor elf who lives in Imladris and is an reserve guard and painter. Her parents were followers of one of Fëanor’s sons (probably Curufin cause he’s my fave <3) she’s a super young elf and was born sometime during the beginning of the 3rd age

Sorry this was long lol hope you enjoyed! I’m an artist not a writer so sorry if none of this is coherent 😌

#if you notice any historical inaccuracies no you don’t <3 #ask #my characters #Tolkien ocs #morianar #nallámoro lothmeril #quellë

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cilil · 2 years

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[Since the Valar relationship hcs were so much fun, here are my hcs about how everyone's wedding went - or how they would've gone if they had taken place in Arda. Most of them were already married when they descended, it seems]

Manwë & Varda

The classic, traditional, super expensive wedding, everything in gold, silver and white and everyone was invited -

Except Melkor. Manwë wanted him there, of course, but Varda secretly assembled a task force comprised of Ulmo, Tulkas, Oromë and Yavanna, telling them that Melkor was under no circumstances allowed anywhere near the wedding party

Ulmo was the best man, Eönwë, Ilmarë and a few more Maiar were selected to be groomsmen and bridesmaids and Námo officiated the ceremony

Everything went fairly well. Manwë was a little sad that Melkor "couldn't make it", Ulmo was a just a tiny bit jealous of Varda, Nienna cried and Irmo slept through the entire ceremony, but the rest was fairytale-perfect

Melkor was pissed that he didn't get to crash the wedding, but all he managed to do was sneak in after everyone had already left and steal the last piece of cake

Aulë & Yavanna

Yavanna took over most of the organization after Aulë got tired of attempting to have opinions on things

They had a beautiful fairy-themed forest wedding, though Aulë was a little late due to his tendency to forget about everything around him when he's in the forge. Also his outfit was slightly glittering because of some persistent metal dust he couldn't manage to get rid of

Nienna and Vána provided the happy crying for the ceremony while Irmo was, you guessed it, happily asleep in Estë's arms

When everyone got slowly drunk later Aulë quietly admitted to Manwë that he was sad about some of his Maiar missing, especially Mairon

Thankfully Yavanna didn't make him sleep on the couch that night, however she might've done so if he had managed to invite Mairon and his other fallen Maiar

Melkor was explicitly not invited

Oromë & Vána

Vána went all out and created the greatest bouquet Valinor has ever seen. she also conspired with Oromë to have Nessa catch it, resulting in poor Nessa getting nearly buried under a mountain of flowers when Vána threw it at her

Vána's dress was absolutely gorgeous. She'd spent weeks creating it together with Vairë

There was a small amount of controversy leading up to the wedding when Námo refused to let horses inside the cathedral. In the end Oromë begrudgingly organized a carriage for himself and Vána, choosing Nahar and a few other horses to pull it, and agreed to leave them outside

Nienna and Irmo remained consistent in their behavior during the ceremony. This time Yavanna joined the crying efforts as well, as did, to everyone's surprise, Tulkas

The food was great thanks Oromë's and Vána's Maiar going above and beyond

Melkor was explicitly not invited

Tulkas & Nessa

Things got a little hectic when Tulkas showed up in sweaty gym clothes and had to be sent back home to shower and change

Thankfully this incident remained without consequences since Nessa was also late due to last minute dancing practice. Everyone was relieved - except Námo who was slightly miffed about the whole situation, but had foreseen it and brought a book as well as a pillow for Irmo who was, you guessed it, fast asleep after 5 minutes

Nienna was slightly surprised to share her tissues with Oromë and Vána this time, but didn't ask any questions

The afterparty was basically Oktoberfest. Tulkas and Oromë got black-out drunk after ungodly amounts of beer and fell asleep

Nessa had no issue continuing the dancing alone. Vána joined her later and the two danced the entire night

Melkor had no plans to show up but wasn't invited either way

Námo & Vairë

Despite Manwë's vehement protests and several offers to help organize something else, Námo wanted a simple courthouse wedding and Vairë agreed since she isn't too fond of big events either. Only the Valar were invited to keep it small

Manwë - who had been tasked with officiating the ceremony this time - was determined to make it special anyway, whether the couple wanted to or not, and prepared a big speech about family and romance

While Námo glared at him the entire time for unnecessarily prolonging the ceremony, Vairë knitted a shawl around the two of them. Everyone thought it was super cute and Nienna and Irmo claim to this day that they saw Námo blushing and tease him about it

Irmo brought a slightly suspicious bouquet from his garden for the couple. No one knows exactly what kind of flowers were in it, but they emanated a very soothing smell which ensured that almost everyone fell asleep during Manwë's sermon. Ironically Irmo himself was awake for the entire ceremony since he was very excited about his brother's wedding

The afterparty ended abruptly when Námo kicked out Tulkas and Oromë for getting too drunk and scaring the fëar in his halls

Melkor was explicitly not invited

Irmo & Estë

Irmo and Estë chose a fairly casual and unorthodox ceremony, refusing to listen to any criticism from Manwë or Námo

Despite Irmo's protests, the suspicious flowers he had brought to Námo's wedding were removed from the location by Yavanna and Vána on Manwë's orders; however Irmo managed to sneak in a few of them anyway

Nienna cried a few tears of joy and couldn't stop smiling. Some say they saw even Námo smile just a little

Oromë and Tulkas made a betting pool on whether Irmo would manage to stay awake for the entire ceremony and afterparty. Nessa, Vána, Yavanna and Aulë joined in as well.

The afterparty went down in Valarin history as one of the craziest nights they ever had, ending in everyone passed out on the floor, Valar and Maiar alike. Some claimed later that they had seen purple petals around the infamous but incredibly delicious punch Irmo prepared

Estë was kind enough to help everyone through their hangover

Melkor was actually invited, but didn't deem the event important enough to crash it

Melkor & Mairon

Manwë was explicitly not invited and neither were the other Valar except Nienna. He attempted to get in anywayk but Melkor had been smart enough to give him the wrong date

Mairon went full bridezilla mode and several people were burned to a crisp before, during and after the wedding for major to minor mistakes

Melkor enabled this behavior in an attempt to fulfill his fiancé's every wish and showered him with gifts as well

Gothmog was supposed to officiate the ceremony, but accidentally burned the script. Thankfully Thuringwethil was able to step in and take over

Melkor wore black to no one's surprise. Mairon wore red and gold. Even the Orcs were gushing about how great his outfit was - yas king slay

There was also a lot of discussion about how cool their wedding rings looked

The afterparty basically turned into the greatest metal music festival Middle-earth has ever seen as Melkor took the opportunity to showcase his music to a large audience. The centerpiece was a full Ainulindalë remix

According to eye witnesses, he and Mairon were on the dancefloor for hours and their moves looked like life-threatening activity, both for themselves as well as the people around them. Collateral damage was reported

After the party the two dark lords retreated to their bedchambers and weren't seen for days. According to rumors, Mairon's first project after coming back to his forge was repairing the bed

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and-the-stars-collided · 1 year

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Feelings I associate with the Valar:

Melkor — the pleasant sinking feeling deep in your chest as you look down at the ground from something tall

Manwë — the "boom" in your heart when you hear a firework explode

Varda — the safeness you feel when you see the moon shining

Ulmo — the feeling when you finally adjust to the cold of the ocean

Aule — the pride of building furniture by yourself

Yavanna — the surge of need to protect a child you love

Orome — the horror-struck feeling when you are alone and everything is too quiet

Nienna — the absent feeling when you are doing something enjoyable and then suddenly feel like the world is falling down around you

Námo — the bolt of panic though your body when you hear a strange noise in the night

Irmo — the giggle in your chest when you were given a sip of wine as a child

Este — the calm of having someone brush your hair

Vaire — the buzz of your fingers opening a package you had been waiting for

Vana — the rush of euphoria when you open your window in the morning and everything smells green

Tulkas — the anticipation as you wait for someone to realise you pranked them

Nessa — the funny feeling in your stomach when you see the sun outside your window and realise you've stayed up all night

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chaos-of-the-abyss · 5 years

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Can you do Manwe for the character headcanons?

I most certainly can, anon. Manwë is my king and I’m forever open to doing anything about him.

1: sexuality headcanon

Bisexual and demisexual.

2: otp

Manwë x Varda is my OTP to end all OTPs. I will not budge on this; they are beautiful.

3: brotp

Manwë and Melkor. Like, their relationship makes me tear up. It’s so complicated and so heartbreaking.

I also love Manwë and Ulmo’s bromance. Ever since I read this quote I consider them to be best friends:

“And llúvatar spoke to Ulmo, and said: ‘Seest thou not how here in this little realm in the Deeps of Time Melkor hath made war upon thy province? He hath bethought him of bitter cold immoderate, and yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy fountains, nor of my clear pools. Behold the snow, and the cunning work of frost! Melkor hath devised heats and fire without restraint, and hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of the sea. Behold rather the height and glory of the clouds, and the everchanging mists; and listen to the fall of rain upon the Earth! And in these clouds thou art drawn nearer to Manwë, thy friend, whom thou lovest.’

Then Ulmo answered: ‘Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had my secret thought conceived the snowflake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of the rain. I will seek Manwë, that he and I may make melodies for ever to my delight!’ And Manwë and Ulmo have from the beginning been allied, and in all things have served most faithfully the purpose of llúvatar.”

Actual footage of me after reading this:

4: notp

I haven’t really seen any Manwë ships that I hate. There are some that I don’t ship, but they’re not NOTP material.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

I have too goddamn many headcanons of this beautiful specimen of a character; you can read them here. The first one that pops into my head is that Manwë is witty. Like, very much so. I mean:

‘If thou hadst thy will what wouldst thou reserve?’ said Manwë. 'Of all thy realm what dost thou hold dearest?’'All have their worth,’ said Yavanna, 'and each contributes to the worth of the others. But the kelvar can flee or defend themselves, whereas the olvar that grow cannot. And among these I hold trees dear. Long in the growing, swift shall they be in the felling, and unless they pay toll with fruit upon bough little mourned in their passing. … Would that the trees might speak on behalf of all things that have roots, and punish those that wrong them!’'This is a strange thought,’ said Manwë.

6: one way in which I relate to this character

Manwë has such good intentions, but I headcanon him as doubting himself a lot: “Am I doing what’s right? Were my actions fair? Did I do the best thing for Father’s theme?” Those kind of thoughts. And I think it’s beautiful that the Elder King of Arda, viceregent of Eru Iluvatar, is capable of such self-doubt. It’s so relatable to me.

7: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

Nothing at all. I love every bit of him.

There is one thing that annoys me, not about Manwë himself, but about the fandom’s general perception of him. There seems to be this notion that Manwë is submissive, weak, malleable, etc., and it frustrates the hell out of me.

In my opinion, it stems from the fact that his most obvious parallel is with Melkor, who the fandom likes to portray as the flirtatious, sexy, desirable, bad boy TM. Because Manwë’s the less, shall we say, rebellious one between the two, that appears to translate to him being some wimp in the eyes of much of the fandom. Whereas Melkor is depicted as independent and creative and unorthodox, Manwë is reduced to this puny, shy, naive mouse. And if he’s not a puny, shy, naive mouse, I’ve also noticed this fondness for making Manwë an abusive asshat. The idea that he’s abusive to Varda, especially, ticks me off. Come on, fandom.

Both of these deliberately negative portrayals of Manwë are, in my opinion, debunked with this quote:

‘He was appointed to be, in the fullness of time, the first of all Kings: lord of the realm of Arda and ruler of all that dwell therein. In Arda his delight is in the winds and the clouds, and in all the regions of the air, from the heights to the depths, from the utmost borders of the Veil of Arda to the breezes that blow in the grass. Súlimo he is surnamed, Lord of the Breath of Arda. All swift birds, strong of wing, he loves, and they come and go at his bidding…..Manwë has no thought for his own honour, and is not jealous of his power, but rules all to peace.’

‘His raiment is blue, and blue is the fire of his eyes…and he was appointed to be the vicegerent of Ilúvatar, King of the world of Valar and Elves and Men, and chief defence against the evil of Melkor.’

Tolkien gives Manwë such a badass description that it’s clear that he’s not meant to be seen as a naive, weak, and submissive puppet. But Tolkien also states that Manwë is a selfless, kind king. There is absolutely no canon basis for Manwë to be so commonly interpreted the way he is; in fact, there are actual contradictions. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why so much of the fandom wants to make him look so negative. Manwë isn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he’s a far cry from being a malleable, dithering weakling, or a controlling, abusive douchebag.

Sorry for the giant reply to that one, lol. I can get a bit overzealous when it comes to Manwë; I just love him so much. (In fact, I’m aggressively loving him more in response to the treatment he gets from certain parts of the fandom.)

8: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Cinnamon roll, of course. My boy is literally the purest, most well-intentioned character I know. I love him so much.

#manwë #manwë and melkor #manwe x varda #varda x manwë #ulmo #eru iluvatar #yavanna #tolkien #character headcanons #tolkien headcanon #meta #kind of #the silmarillion quotes #the silmarillion

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i-did-not-mean-to · 7 months

Text

NaNoWriMo 2023

Here are the prompts for this month!

🍂🍂November🍂🍂

𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓎 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - Ori x OC for husband

𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - Námo & Melkor & Fëanor (aka Moggy and Feener get a candle)

𝐵𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉 - Aulë x Yavanna (because of this art by @elanna-elrondiel)

𝒥𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁/𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Caranthir x Finrod for @dreamychaos

𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒟𝒶𝓎 - Ori (because @elanna-elrondiel did this to me)

𝒮𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 - Glorfindel x reader for @elanna-elrondiel

𝒯𝑒𝒶 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎 - Elrond & Galadriel (because I am terrible at gen!fic)

𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 - Russingon for @thatfeanorian

𝒲𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 & 𝒱𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈 - Fëanor x Fingolfin, Turgon x Finrod for MoonLord

𝐹𝓊𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁/𝒞𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓎 - Haleth (because she's queen)

𝒮𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒞𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈 - Glorfindel & Legolas x Gimli, Glorfindel & Elrond + kids, Glorfindel x Erestor for my various servers

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝑀𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Firebird for @cilil

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 & 𝑅𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓈 - Russingon with art by @the-red-butterfly

𝒲𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓅𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓈 - Nerdanel (to process stuff in my life)

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 - Varda x Manwë & Irmo

𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈/𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 - Vampire!Elrond for @maglor-my-beloved

𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓉 - Halenthir for @elentarial

𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝐿𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 - Kíli x F!reader for @fandomfaeryreads

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂𝓈 - Ulmanwë & Celegorm/Aredhel

𝐹𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃 - Amras x Finarfin x Argon

𝑀𝓎𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒫𝑜𝓃𝒹/𝑀𝒾𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓇 - DaeMags because of this art by @elanna-elrondiel)

𝒜𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓃 - Námo & Gorgumoth

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈𝑔𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 - Ñolofinwë & his descendants for anon

𝐹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 - Bagginshield for @lordoftherazzles

𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝓅𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 - Celegorm x Eöl for the server. (Dark!💀 mpreg)

𝐹𝑜𝑔𝑔𝓎 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 - Caranthir x reader (because of this art by @sortumavaara)

𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝐿𝒾𝑒𝓈 - Gondolin OT3 for @jaz-the-bard

𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 - Elenwë x Turgon x Finrod for @elentarial

𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒 - Fingon and the seven dwarves Fëanorians for MoonLord

𝒮𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇 - Varda x Nienna, Eärendil & Elrond & Maglor

As always, I'd be happy and honoured to get requests for pairings and ideas from you all!

Lots of love!

Explanation: in red the nsfw, in orange fluff, in green dark (and nsfw) fics, blue for sadness

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Masterlist #November #NaNoWriMO #nanowrimo

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 11 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing! Especially your Mairon. Can I request a Mairon x wife Reader (female Maia of Yavanna) where she insists that spending the day outside with her away from his forge will cure his burnout on his current project. He doesn’t like the idea at first, but is quickly impressed with the new skills she shows him. So impressed that it leads to smut in the garden. Thank you!

"The beauty in imperfections"

Pairing: Mairon x Fem. Reader (Maia | Established relationship | Second person POV | Location - Almaren)

Themes: Soft | Smut (Lemon-ish)

Word count: 1.7k words

Summary: Things heat up between you and Mairon while resting in a starlit meadow.

Rating:🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

For rules and tag form, read here.

"You toil too much, husband."

Mairon poured over many pieces of parchment, all of which were filled with drawings. He welled up with loathing whenever he glanced at them.

"Master Aulë tasked me with the creation of a diadem worthy of Varda herself," he replied, turning to face you, his voice and eyes dulled by exhaustion. "It must be perfect...none of these are perfect."

Ah, yes. Mairon and his quest for order and perfection. It was both a blessing and a curse, one that threatened to cripple him most of the time. You looked at him, your eyes filling with worry.

"You have confined yourself to the four walls of this forge for too long, husband," you said, taking his hand. "You need a diversion. A change of air will do you good, I think."

Mairon protested with, "But my task... Master Aulë..."

You were quick to cut him off. "Can wait. Come, husband. I am certain your vision can wait."

Mairon opened his mouth to refuse. You simply stood there, hands on your hips, bearing a look that would take no refusal. Mairon glared, the light slowly returning to his golden-orange eyes. You were unmoved. He crossed his arms over his chest. You were unmoved. You tapped the toe of your shoe against the floor. The forge soon filled with the unmistakable tap tap tap of hardened leather against stone. You arched a brow.

Mairon's lips curled at the corners. The tap tap tap grew insistent. Mairon's chest rumbled. You grinned while he struggled to hold back his amusement. Mairon finally laughed long and softly and shook his head.

"Determined little thing, yes?" He paused to walk around the forge. The flames in the furnace had been extinguished, and it was cool to the touch. Tools had been safely put away. All that remained was to shut the doors and windows, and he could leave. "Pray be patient a little longer, and we will leave, you and I."

It was not long before you were leading Mairon down a pebbled path that threaded around a beautiful meadow. The way ahead was lit with bright starlight. It turned the world a glorious silver. Mairon glanced at you, how your hair shone, how your eyes had gone soft and bright and dreamy. He found himself sighing softly.

"Here," you said, and led him under the gnarled branches of an oak tree that had withered with time. You spread your skirts over the soft grass and sat down with your back to the bark. "Come lay here and place your head on my lap."

Mairon made himself comfortable, sighing wistfully when cool air washed over him and you brushed your hand down his hair. He looked at you, wondering how much he would have missed and how long he would have been away from you, toiling on a vision that kept slipping through his fingers.

"Forgive me," he whispered, reaching up to curl his fingers around your hair. "For keeping myself from you for so long. Are you angry?"

"No," you replied truthfully. "For you have your duties just as much as I have mine. But I must confess," you sighed with worry, "watching your tasks consume you alarms me."

"I know," he agreed, "but I cannot help myself. It has to be perfection, nothing less. Is that wrong?"

"Perfection is an illusion, husband." You counseled, and reached to the side to pluck a dandelion in full bloom. "Nothing is truly perfect. Look at this flower. Yavannah created these with her own hands. See how uneven its petals and leaves are, how it is filled with little bumps and lines."

Mairon took the flower and looked over it critically. He found the little bumps and lines, the mismatched petals and leaves.

"And yet it is still beautiful," he admitted, albeit reluctantly. Mairon craved order and perfection; he could not help himself. Still, there was truth to what you said. Nothing was perfect, and even imperfections bring about beauty all of their own. "Perhaps you are right. I will stay away from the forge for a while, and go back to my task with rested eyes."

"Yes," you allowed, and looked around you. The meadow was a riot of blooms, and at that moment, the light from Telperion slowly spread out against the night sky in a brilliant display. The world was even more beautiful for it. Mairon saw it too. There was peace here, and magic. He slowly rose to his feet and dusted himself off, wanting to make the most of the time the two of you had together.

"Walk with me, wife," he implored, taking your hand into his. "Come walk with me."

Walk with him you did. You showed where the roses were, and where the wildflowers bloomed, even the lavender and sage and jasmines. Every flower and vine and tree imaginable was here. Mairon followed you, listening to you while you talked, his eyes on your lips the entire time. They were lips that were meant to be kissed. It had been long, too long in his mind, when the two of you kissed. And he thought he might not find himself in a more wonderous moment like this ever again. He stopped walking. You turned your attention to him, your gaze holding his even as he inched closer. His eyes burned into yours as the two of you stood close—so close that you felt the warmth wash off his fana and make your heart race a beat faster. Mairon wasted no time. He took you into his embrace and lowered his head, his lips barely brushing over yours.

His kiss shrouded your thoughts in a veil of bliss when it slowly deepened. Mairon growled, the sound low in his throat, when you responded passionately and returned his kiss eagerly. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin when his tongue slipped into the warmth of your mouth and the tips of his fingers dug into your dress.

"Husband," you breathed, and drew back. "Someone may find us."

"Eru take the others," he muttered thickly, and led you to a patch of meadow filled with glorious red blooms gilded in silver light. He lay down on soft grass and extended his arm. "Come here, wife. We may never get another moment like this again."

You licked your lips and considered his request. To engage in an act so private in a place where anyone could see... it was terrifying, and daring, and so very exciting at the same time. You looked over your shoulder, at the path you took. There was not a soul to be seen. And Mairon was right. The two of you might never come across an enchanting moment like this. You took his hand and lay beside him.

Mairon kissed you, now gently, his skilled hands undoing the lacing of your dress, loosening it, while you found the fastenings on his. He had you on your back before you could even think and he moved over you, caging you to the grass beneath you.

The air smelled so sweet. It was all roses and new leaves and him. You could smell him: all flames and leather and steel and the clean scent of him beneath it all. Your hands were curious in their exploration. You slipped them beneath his robes, running them all over his heated flesh. His breath hitched when you took him into your hands. Mairon trembled, really trembled, his eyes closing, his breathing reducing to ragged little gasps whenever you tightened and released, tightened and released. Just listening to him moan and whisper sweet endearments while hardening in your hands was enough to make you throb and dampen between your thighs.

His hand glided up your leg, going higher and higher before finding your small clothes. There was a sharp rip when he tore apart the wisps in his haste to reach the apex between your thighs. Your back bowed when skilled fingers touched you in a way that was familiar to you, fanning the flames already ablaze in your belly. His kisses muffled your moans. The delicious friction caused by his touch unraveled you.

It was not enough. He drew back and tugged his tunic over his head, his breeches even lower to free his cock. He helped you pull the top of your dress down, dipping his head to taste.

"You taste so sweet," he declared, his tongue leaving a damp trail over the soft expanse of your breasts. You had to bite your tongue. Mairon gripped your chin and tilted it up, compelling you to look at him. He did not want silence. He wanted to hear the sounds of your pleasure. He considered it to be the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "Moan for me, wife. You know how I enjoy it when you do."

He eagerly dipped his head again. This time his kisses were violent and bruising, turning your fana into a canvas all of its own. Your moans, now wanton and unrestrained, spilled free. Mairon grew drunk on the sounds and shook when your arms slipped around his shoulders and your nails dug in.

"Hurry," you urged. The need to have him inside you was growing stronger by the moment. "Hurry, husband. There. There. Right there."

Mairon slowly sank his cock into your heat and lost himself in your flesh. He felt like such a fool, putting his labors over time with you. Not even the finest of his creations could compare to the time spent with you. His thrusts went from slow to rhythmic to hard and deep and fast, his hips slapping against the insides of your thighs. He trembled when your hands devled into his hair and the tips of your fingers brushed over his scalp, sending wave after wave of unimaginable bliss washing over him. He crushed your mouth with his when your legs scrambled for purchase against his hips.

It was over so soon. When he shuddered and spilled his seed, whispering your name, your fana splintered as your orgasm ripped through you. Mairon moaned when your cunt tightened around his cock. He kept still, his hand over your belly.

"Keep me in," he urged softly. "Do not move."

You forced open your eyes and looked up at him. Jolts of pleasure still licked up your spine. Mairon himself was gilded in the silvery light of the stars. He never looked more beautiful than at that moment. "More," you plead, "Please."

Mairon chuckled. "Then let me take you home. I plan on ruining you, wife."

Tags: @cilil @wandererindreams @edensrose @asianbutnotjapanese

#Mairon #Mairon smut #mairon imagine #Mairon x reader #x reader #reader insert request #the silmarillion #the silm #the silm imagine #The silm smut #The valar #The ainur #The maiar #fanfiction #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

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lamemaster · 1 year

Text

Love That Writes My Doom

Wordcount: 6.3 k

Genre: tragic romance

Pairing: Eonwe x OC

Summary: While most Valar had tangible elements there were some who held abstract domains. Nienna shed her tears that carried sympathy for all, Nessa danced with youth, and Irmo provided healing, so it was not surprising but why would there be a Maia for lust?

Note: sorry this is kinda long but I did not want to split into chapters because this was word building practice for me.

It had been a long time since the trees of Telperion and Laurelin had been withered by the hands of Melkor. Since then, Anar and Ithil had emerged to grace the skies of Elbereth. Even though the passage of time had been a vague concept to the Ainur, it had not gone unnoticed. Months, years, decades, ages grated on their sense of restlessness.

Even the surreal gardens of Lórien did little to quench the yearning for the halls they had once been mere thoughts of Illuvatar. Nevertheless, silver lakes and trees that lulled everyone present into a peaceful mood were a source of healing to many.

Long ago these gardens had hosted the roots of Telperion. Dimly lit halls of Irmo were surrounded by trees that were nurtured by the dew of Telperion during its wake. Enchanted by gifts of Aule’s mist and Yavanna’s poppies, Lórien brought joy to aggrieved hearts.

Ulmo, who was seldom found outside of his seas and oceans, too cherished the gardens that were devoid of noise that lingered throughout Arda. The Vala of water visited Irmo to find solace when the burdens of Arda grew heavy on his shoulders.

Nightingales sang a mellow tune, in a tone that rang of acceptance of the past and hope for the future. Such songs were loved by Quendi who came here after the Halls of Mandos.

However, all the peace and quiet was lost to Eönwë. He wandered the gardens aimlessly. These songs were a reminder of the past that he had to forget and let go of.

The Valar had gathered for the festival of spring. Maiar from all over the Valinor had come over to witness Yavanna’s blessings. Some came in their chosen hroa whereas others drifted formlessly. The Valar rested by the shimmering fountains as they reminisced about their days of creation.

Eönwë had been dismissed by his Vala. He had been trailing after Manwe and Varda when his Vala had turned to face him and urged him to relax while enjoying the sights Lórien offered. He had bowed his head and accepted it. He had already made a choice and the choice had been his Vala. He would stand by it no matter what it cost him.

But now as he roamed alone, he could help but be mournful. His anticipation had worn off long ago. It was clear that she would not be coming. The gardens of Lórien were brimming were Ainur yet, the one he desired the most was nowhere to be found. He had never experienced such solitude before.

Coming to existence was a blur even to Eönwë. He had felt the warmth of Illuvatar’s conscience in the first few moments of his coming to life. Then in the next instant he had for the first time met Manwe. The purpose of his being came to him in those few minutes. He was the herald of the Valar and the Chief of the Maiar. Great deeds of valor were written in his song, and he had embraced it from the very beginning.

For ages, he served his Vala, Manwe. Next to his master, he had witnessed joy, peace, contentment, and sorrow. He experienced love, anger, care, and most of all the fulfillment of his purpose. Manwe and Elbereth had been kind to him. In Arda, where the music shaped everything, he had found solace in the rulers of the entire world. Estrangement from Illuvatar was made easier by all the affection the King and Queen of Arda had showered on him.

But as he walked Irmo’s halls he could help but ponder about the only one who had evaded the feast. Isolated and aggrieved, would her heart be swayed by the same dark that had clutched Melkor’s essence? She had every right to resent the Blessed Realm that was a solace to many. A resentment well earned by the entire kingdom.

An abrupt fear grappled Eönwë’s mind. Had not everyone in Valinor expected that of her already? It would prove everyone correct. Most of all his Vala. A cruel song that did not waver from its path. Was her fall part of the song etched into Arda’s fate in the first place? She had evaded it once but how long would she hold the weight of everyone’s scrutiny? If so, then that fall would drag him with her. End of him and her…it would be fitting.

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Years ago, they had met for the first time. It was miraculous that despite existing thoughts of the same being they had been ignorant of each other. At least he had been. He had not seen her before that day. In fact, he had assumed her to be one of the newer Ainur.

It had been a gathering in Vana’s fields. The quendi had all come for Oromë’s hunts whereas the Valar had met to witness the merriment of their subjects. He had accompanied Manwe, Varda, and Ilmarë. It was pleasant to forget the wounds left behind by the marring of Arda.

Unlike most feasts and banquets of Valinor, the gatherings hosted by Vana and Oromë were quite… tempestuous to say the least. Away from Aule’s creations and marbled halls of Taniquetil, Vana hosted a celebration in valleys of flowers that bloomed with Yavanna’s powers.

Luminescent moss covered the ground to form the softest carpet. Trees rejuvenated and huddled together to make a thick canopy that shielded from cold winds but left Varda’s sky viewable during the night. During such celebrations, even the Valar indulged in food and drinks well-loved the Quendi.

Oromë’s horn could be heard throughout the woods as the game of hunt was initiated. While quendi and some Maiar competed in the hunt, the rest stayed back in Vana’s company.

Music flowed freely and it would be a task of utmost depravity to look away from Nessa’s dance that blessed the land. The strain of ages vanished when Vana and Nessa danced. Nessa’s powers gave life and revitalized anyone who bore witness to her dance. The dance, which soon was joined by her Maia, then some quendi ventured in, and soon even ever mellow Nienna had a slight smile on her face. Maybe at that moment, her tears were of joy.

All this Eönwë watched from a distance. He had been accompanied by Ilmarë who had just been dragged into dancing by one of the Maia of Yavanna. He was watching them all dance and for a moment it was easy to imagine that they had all played their part in the song, Arda’s music had been finished and they were back in The Timeless Hall of their father.

His eyes had lost focus and somehow, he found himself plopped on the ground with his back resting by a tree. All the voices and sounds had dulled into nothingness and the dark sky was all he could see. Dancing Maiar were blobs of color his eyes refused to focus on. It was not fatigue but the nothingness of the moment that made him so calm. Everything dulled and he wondered if he could feel Illuvatar, the way Manwe did. Maybe if he tried harder, he could catch a glimpse of the music that made up the One.

His unfocused eyes were stilling when they landed on a figure. A Maia. The music…sudden jolt back into Arda pulled him from his daze. He had first seen her just when he thought he had felt a whisp of the One.

Cascading long black hair that blending into the dark sky. Glimmering silver eyes that were different from the gray stormy eyes of the Noldor. They were brighter, sharper, and ancient. If he had focused more at the moment, he would have noticed the way the crowd parted around her, singling her out as if something untouchable and despicable marred her being.

However, at that moment he did not care for anything else. His world had narrowed to her. She, who smiled despite the sly looks thrown her way. Swaying like tall blades of grass dancing to the song of the wind, she moved with an aura of carelessness and freedom. Her arms swung around idly, uncaring of all who cringed from coming in contact with her.

Surrounded by envious glares but undivided attention she twirled ignoring all who pierced her with hawk-like stares. One of those gazes was Eönwë’s. He could not help but stare. He had never seen her before. Dressed in black with a sea full of Ainur and Quendi dressed in pale blue and green robes, it was difficult not to notice.

The air surrounding them had shifted. If Eönwë had been more aware of his surroundings he would have noticed the sudden quiet of the Valar who had earlier been humming to Vana’s tune. Even the nightingales who followed Irmo had silenced their song.

This effect had not gone unnoticed by the source of it. She had known of it even before stepping into the celebration. Yet, she had dared. She had dared to come and test the residents of the blessed realm. She had scoffed at the obvious contempt and scorn thrown her way. It was all expected…

But then their eyes met. Eönwë, the herald of Maiar was staring at her. Unlike the rest, his gaze held none of the judgment that other’s eyes had carried. It was innocent and full of curiosity. His eyes were glazed with a dazed look and for a moment she wondered if he truly had been looking at her.

Mailë, she had whispered her name in his mind and that had broken Eönwë’s reverie. Then as if with a snap of fingers that music started again, and noise filled the quiet from minutes ago. Mailë…Eönwë said the name out loud in his mind and then as if hearing her name being said the Maia smiled towards his way.

Her smile was sharp just like her gaze. Everything revolving around seemed to carry biting edges. Some would call it cunning or scheming but it did not feel malicious. Eönwë had witnessed the viciousness of Morgoth and his spawns. They carried within them a sense of brutality that she did not have. There was no malintent there, he knew that.

He wanted to know…he wanted to find out more about her who seemed to live indifferent to the world around her. Despite the voice of caution, he wanted to dive right into the hidden fea behind eyes that mirrored Telperion.

“Don’t go near her,” his step flattered as he felt a tug on his arm. It was Andate, a Maia under his wing. Andate had been younger, it hadn’t been long since he had honed a hroa. Eönwë and Ilmarë had found themselves quite taken by the curiosity of the Maia who had once been a dove in the ponds of Taniquetil.

Before Eönwë could caution him to speak carefully. It was quite rude to speak- “she’s the Maia of lust,” Andate had whispered much quieter than his last words.

Lust… Eönwë had not known of it. He had heard of Melkor succumbing to it, Mairon falling for it, but he had not known of its existence.

While most Valar had tangible elements there were some who held abstract domains. Nienna shed her tears that carried sympathy for all, Nessa danced with youth, and Irmo provided healing, so it was not surprising but why would there be a Maia for lust?

Nothing good came out of it. Many had fallen blinded by it. So, what was the reason for its song’s existence?

“I’ve heard she serves no Valar,” Andate now communicated telepathically as they walked around the woods. Eönwë had lost sight of Mailë when he had been distracted by the fluttering dove by his side.

“Some say she served Melkor but even he failed to overpower her. Stay away from her Eönwë. It is said that she can influence anyone to fall under her spell,” it seemed unlikely that Mailë would care enough to lay spells on anyone, but Eönwë let Andate talk his mind.

He had nodded in assent and found a very pleased Andate. The prospect of saving his senior from the scheming Maia seemed to have puffed the dove’s feathers.

Eönwë had thought that to be the end of the topic yet, it had not been it. He had been caressing the tired nightingales and sparrows when he met her again. With one nightingale in his hands, one each on both his shoulders and one on his head he had stumbled upon Mailë who turned around just in time to witness the party of birds heading her way.

“Pfft-” she barely held in her laugh, “tucking in your dear fellows?” Some impression the herald of the Valar had made on her. Looking at the startled birds and Eönwë with equally wide-open eyes she struggled to maintain her suave smile. The sight in front of her eyes threatened to crack her unmoved façade.

From what she could see one of the birds on Eönwë’s head had tugged his hair quite painfully in its claw.

“Here…let me just,” she tried to pull away the still bird who held Eönwë’s hair without letting it go. All five of the birds, including Eönwë, stilled, unmoving as she extracted the one who ended to rip Eönwë’s scalp off. Ripping the stubborn bird off she had tried, to the best of her abilities, to fix Eönwë’s messed up braids.

Eönwë could not believe that he had walked in front of the Maia of lust in the silliest possible way. Now that he looked at Ólsónd, who now sat frozen in Mailë hands, he believed it served the bird right for trying to uproot all his hair and almost making him screech in front of another Ainur.

“Are you seeing them off to their nest?” Mailë asked again and Eönwë realized how awkwardly quiet he had been. Well for his part he was trying not to yank the stupid bird in her hands. For some weird reason, Ólsónd let out the shrillest chirps as the other Maia pet its feathers. He could feel the wandering eyes of the other birds who were very much staying on him.

“Ah! Yes,” seeing the approaching nests Eönwë rashly put the bird in his hands in its nest. “Here we are,” he turned to Ólsónd, “his nest is here.” He took a reluctant Ólsónd from Mailë and put him in his nest. One second more of him and Eönwë would have physically closed its beak.

“Rest well,” it was good that Mailë could not see Eönwë’s gleeful expression in return for Ólsónd’s offended squeak. Then with equal enthusiasm, he tucked the rest of his companions.

“What do you-”

“I’ll leave-”

Eönwë cut off his sentence as he saw Mailë do that as well. He did not want her to leave. Not yet. So, he tried again.

“You can-”

“Go ahead-”

They both paused. The quiet making things even more embarrassing between them. It was a scary possibility that they would end up speaking at the same time again. Before any one of them could take the step to speak up an indignant squeak from Ólsónd the sparrow interrupted them.

“Hah,” Mailë gently covered her mouth as her shoulders shook with slight tremors. Giving up on whatever semblance she held on to, she let go of her hand and felt waves of laughter rock her body. It had been long…so long since she had laughed.

The laugh he heard was different from the smug smile in the clearing. Her eyes no longer carried the challenging look that scared many. As if a veil had been lifted to reveal a totally different painting than what she had painted for others.

Eönwë was fascinated. Lust as it seemed was not all that unfeeling after all. Soon he found himself joining in with his own giggles growing wilder. And no later than 5 minutes he found himself laughing manically with a Maia he had never met before that night. Whenever one of them tried to reel in their laugh watching the other one sent them into another fit.

What was this gleeful sense of joy? Why did it feel so freeing to laugh with someone who had not existed in his world a few hours ago? He had always been a herald, a chief, reliable, dependable, clear-headed but never was he just Eönwë.

Being with Mailë, who was just Mailë and nothing less or nothing more, he felt he could be just Eönwë for those few moments. Weight of Arda, the loud of music around them, duties, and expectations dulled into background noise.

That night no one noticed Eönwë’s absence from the clearing. None would have cared for Mailë anyway. The world went on without them and for once they were grateful. It was liberating to not be a part of it for some stolen instances.

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“What is lust?” Eönwë tilted his head mirroring his interest. “Tell me what is it? Evil or good? Or a grey area in the middle of both?”

“Hmm,” no one had asked her that before. Holding a conversation with someone was new. Someone who did not aim to belittle her or use precious words to express their disgust. It should have scared her to talk to someone like the Maia next to her, but it didn’t. What scared her more was the impending silence that waited after he left.

“When I first gained conscience, I had felt others like me around. Maiar who had sung darker songs. Though they were all gone with Melkor. I have not heard of them since then.” Maybe she was resented by others because she resisted the fall she was supposed to experience. It made sense the blessed lands were not supposed to house the likes of her, she wondered. “As you know Arda in its primal form is destined to be marred. For its song to come to fruition the Children of Illuvatar must go through their trials. We formed those trials. Others who fell have come to play their part… and I too have done whatever fate had in store for me.”

“So, to answer your questions. I do not know if my song is good or evil. What I know is that it is needed for this world to function. Lust is not just sexual attraction between hroa. It is an all-consuming want that has often been the originator of most wild things. The Valar lusted for a world of their creation, and it was that lust that aided their efforts to make a world designed by Illuvatar, though Melkor failed to wield it and got devoured by its fervor.” A slight frown on Eönwë’s forehead made it clear that he had not found the talk of Valar pleasing in the conversation.

Uncaring Mailë continued, “Silmarils, the Lamps, the Trees, dwarves, even the languages spoken by us are the result of this unquenchable thirst that lives in our very fea. We were made to look for more, to desire, and to learn. But it is how we chose to get our wants, how we learn to not be slaves to our instincts and not succumb to the ease of this passion.”

A distant voice in her heart scoffed at her high and mighty words. ‘Trying to manipulate your morality to conquer him?’ It mocked her relentlessly. Had she truly made up all her feelings and words for the sake of Eönwë’s company or was this her truth?

She had been giddy. An unnatural feeling to her. The prospect of meeting Eönwë did that to her. A chance to sit and talk for hours. Those hours where silence was filled with joyful chatter. Was it friendship? Love? Or just the convenience of a void filled? She did not know. She had not received any of them prior to this.

Despair from all those years of resisting her fall had vanished when Eönwë walked in. It scared her how endearing he had become to her. So, she tried her best to make him stay. The idea of him leaving…she would lose herself. That would be her fall.

It was unfair to burden Eönwë with such things, but she would shield him from her darkness. Never…he would never be the one to pay the prince of their friendship. If her doom was by his hands, then so be it. It would be better than any of her long-lost kin.

One day when the songs and music would cease, that day she would be free of the labels the world had put on her. Maybe then she would be worthy of such company…

Until then she would bear this everything. She would put on an unabashed face of an abomination and attend every feast, festival, or celebration. She would end her exile for him for as long as he would allow her to come. Chat with him and treasure it. Until then she would let herself be fooled.

And when it becomes too much for him. That day she would return to her penance.

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He had waited for a week before sending the briefest note.

He wanted to show his disinterest. Make a point of his callousness. Not that he needed to. He had done enough to hurt her. Yet, he had waited to show how little it mattered to him. To disguise the note as an afterthought.

A single line written with haste. He had made sure to make it seem an effortless afterthought.

I don’t need you.

He didn’t write the paragraphs of hurtful things he had thought of throughout the week. He couldn’t bring himself to do that. What would hurt more than what he had done? He rolled the small parchment and attached it to Ólsónd’s leg. He found find her and then they would no longer be bound by anything.

He imagined how his message would find her. Her tucked away cottage or some lake deep in unvisited woods. Would she be eager for his word or had rage settled in her heart already? He had promised to meet her… by the gardens of Lórien.

He had left her waiting and then with a heart made of stone spent the rest of the week without doing anything else. She must have waited for him. Stood up by the one she had given her faith to.

Would she write him back an equally spiteful message? He hoped for her rage-filled words…those maybe could dull the pain that seared through him. He would summon Ólsónd for a last glimpse of her. If Illuvatar willed perhaps he would catch a fleeting glance of her. Something to remember the wrong he had committed against her. He would carry that as a brand for the rest of eternity that stretched beyond them.

It was only fair that he carried this burden when he had made the choice of his own convention. He had chosen his Vala and his purpose. Mailë did not matter. He tried to rationalize by repeating in his mind. He would never betray Manwe. Not after his lord had already suffered such fate at the hands of his brother.

He had found a home in Lord Manwe’s halls. He had found mercy, forgiveness, and acceptance. He and many others had found this for all, leave for one.

His Vala spared no love for the one he had loved. Lord Manwe resented lust; one thing that had doomed his brother, Melkor. It was the reason behind Arda’s marring. There were others before, but they had followed Melkor as their master. Greed, wrath, gluttony had fallen with the darkened Vala.

All leave for her. His Lord grappled with the unjust fate that dragged his brother to the pits of the void but spared the one who he thought to be the core of chaos.

So, he chose to stand by his Vala. He decided to resent her. He would force his fea, his hroa, and his heart to not crave for her. Erase her side of pleas that she had offered as an explanation, he too would despise her. He had to.

Maybe in the distant future, during the quiet hours of the night when the quendi would be busy admiring Varda’s skies and men asleep, in those hours when the world quieted down…then he might dare remember. Whisper her name to himself and reminisce the eyes with Telperion’s shine.

Until then, he would let himself burn. Let the guilt and regret hollow his heart so he would find some peace.

For weeks he tried to summon Ólsónd, the one he had sent as his messenger. He sought to contact the sparrow, but he failed every time. It was gone. It was fair… he did not deserve any mercy after what he had done. Why should he be given a last glance? He did not need it. He needed to stand true to his words. He repeated in his mind.

Then a month later he found the sparrow seated by his window. The message from its leg was gone. The finality of his actions settled in his mind like a heavy rock on the undisturbed seabed. Ripples of anxiety flooded him as he approached the silent bird.

“Show me…please…” he whispered. The sparrow stared back at him. An empty stare that held judgment. “Please,” he asked again.

Before he could beg the quiet bird, he was struck by a scene. Silver trees, gleaming lakes, and an army of red poppies that stood out from the dull and peaceful scenery. Not the isolated cottage or dense woods he had imagined to find her by. No…she had been there by the gardens. ‘Waiting for you,’ a voice whispered. A voice he tried to shun these days.

For the first time ever since his existence, he felt his legs stumble. He had never found his hroa to be this heavy before. Why had she not left? It must have been weeks when Ólsónd found her after looking for so long. What had she waited for…his words? Those words that offered no comfort for her patience.

He saw her crouched next to a tree. Her hair still dark, her robes deep violet. He saw her head snap towards the flutter of Ólsónd’s wings. The bird landed on her hand as it had when they had first met. A slight jitter of her hand betrayed the otherwise calm-faced Maia.

The twitch of her brown and almost unnoticeable tremble of her eyelash were the signs that most would not notice. But he did even as he looked through another being’s memory. He wanted to snatch away the piece of parchment from her. Take it away and never let those words go to her.

He wanted to stop. He did not want to see how he had broken the hope in her eyes. But he continued. This was small, so small compared to her pain. He deserved it.

Taking the letter Mailë, smiled. A vulnerable smile with the barest lift of her lips. Nothing like the liberal laugh he had come to love. She clutched the message in her palm and caressed the bird.

“Go,” was all he heard as his room at Taniquetil came back to view. Ólsónd’s memory ended.

Silver eyes, black hair, suave smile, warm hands, he tried to recall but all he could muster to remember was that faint smile. A knowing acceptance.

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I don’t need you

‘You should have seen it coming. It’s the truth after all. What could you offer? Nothing.’

It was the truth, but the honesty of his brief message did little to ease the pain. Some part of her tried to come up with ways, some way that she could prove her use. Her purpose…anything for him to keep her by his side. She wanted to acquire him or for him to possess her. It was her nature to want yet, she had nothing.

The silence that had been circling around her during the weeks at Lórien now gripped her mind. She had been walking for so long, but she couldn’t find him. 'Eönwë,' she wanted to call out but couldn't. He would hate her. Despise her weakness more than he already did. If she figured out any advantage, any use of having her maybe then he would come.

I don’t need you

She read it repeatedly. Stared at the words expecting them to change and say something else. An explanation for his delay or a promise of another meeting. Anything but this.

Was this what the One wanted all along? Were her sins too heavy for her to suffer? Was this the path to darkness the rest of her kin had faced? This immeasurable pain that dulled everything. Would her fall satisfy the cruel writer of the song? Did Illuvatar truly want this?

Why must she suffer scorn from others when none other had to? Even Melkor was given multiple chances. She…she wasn’t even considered.

‘Come to me.’ She felt a pull. A tug from her hroa.

‘I’ll take it away.’ The voice whispered in her mind. ‘Come.’ It said again.

Her eyes darkened. She could see her kin from the past. Greed, gluttony, and wrath before they had become Thuringwethil, Ungoliant, or Gothmog- the lord of Balrogs and many others. She had known them before the world had turned against them. Before they had trusted their father to love them as he had for the rest of his creations. It was a betrayal of their faith.

Were they all not sacred thoughts of Illuvatar? Then why did her kin have to bear the judgment of their own people?

‘Leave them,’ the insistent voice made its presence known again. ‘Join me and show them your true power. Let them see the might of the ones they have mocked.’

Yes, she could prove her worth. Then the entire world would know of her abilities and powers. Then…Eönwë would realize her merit. He would come back to her and if he didn’t then she would have him anyway. A snap of her finger would be enough to bend his will to her wish. For all the majesty of Valinor and its residents, they had yet to see her true form.

‘Yes. Show them who you are. Do it. Embrace your strength.’

Her thoughts spiraled as the voice cackled. She had heard this voice. Long ago before the fall of her kind she had heard it. The same mocking tone that had ensnared the rest of them. Promises and hateful words it was the same. She felt her steps speed up as the voice rang out in her mind.

She saw a grand hall. Dimly lit with floating shadows. She saw Maiar, Quendi, and Men all lost to her powers. Depraved and uncaring of modesty, clinging to each other. Pleasuring and being pleasured. Their eyes rolled back with ecstasy. Broken moans and whimpers rang out loud. She saw herself as well, untouched by the chaos around her and dressed immaculately in her black gown. A prideful smile on her face.

‘More! More! More!’ The screams filled the hall. She laughed. More they would get.

‘They would worship you like this,’ the voice now had a form, but she could not decipher it. It was as if the form was covered by mist. ‘How great would be a world where nothing existed leave for pleasure? Your pleasure.’ Yes, she agreed with the voice. She wanted to be worshipped and praised. Revered like the rest of her kin or perhaps even more than them.

She saw herself snap her fingers in the dream and the crowd grew louder. Many cried with completion while others grunted. A withering lady cried at her dream self’s feet. Just as she bent down to stroke her tear-stained face, she saw him.

His righteous shine unharmed from her powers. Eönwë, the herald of Valar stood unmoving and sane. Golden eyes, gleaming armor, hair that she remembered playing with. The voice shrieked in her ears, and she flinched, but it mattered little. He had come at last. Eönwë, she wanted to call out, but her words died in the loud hall.

‘Eönwë,’ she called again but he went away. The hall vanished into the darkness, and the voice left. She tried to look for the misty figure, but it was nowhere to be found. She felt wetness on her face and the awareness of her hroa came back to her.

“-dy…wa…p,” an unknown force shook her body. “Lady Mailë,” A childish voice echoed. So different from the one from her dream. She forced open her eyes and saw a shadow looming over her.

A child or more specifically a young Maia hugged her as he cried in a mournful tune. He was familiar with his golden eyes and clingy nature. Before she could ask him his name, someone spoke.

A much larger figure. She craned her neck to face them.

“I congratulate you on resisting your fall for a second time Maia Mailë,” a gentle yet quiet tone. Long silvery cloak and white hair that reached the speaker’s knees. A grieving face but not devoid of hope. It was the face she had seen in her dream. It was the one she had seen crying by her feet. Nienna, the name came to her.

Barren landscape with a gray sky. Next to her was the edge that held the void. One step away from her doom. The voice in her head had dragged her here. She had been close, so close to succumbing. It had been harder than the last time. Her will, non-existent. Still, she had made it.

Desolate Halls of Nienna stood next to her, the Valier, and the child who she had yet to remember. It was far from the grandiose of her dream, but it was better than any power. Eönwë, as it seemed, was her doom and redemption at the same time. His four words were potent enough to challenge her existence and his mere sight was greater than any illusion.

She would grieve the loss of her love but one thing that her near-fall had taught her was that whatever she felt was far greater than the entire world’s worth of pleasure or pain. She had made that choice on the edge of the world. She would choose him and pine for him over anything anyone could offer.

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In the gloomy, isolated Halls of Nienna lives a Maia. A Maia who serves no Vala not even Nienna, whose halls she resides in. It is said that the tearful Valier who takes no servants and lives alone is sometimes accompanied by a companion. One gazes into the void with sorrow and hope, and the other stares towards the looming peak of Taniquetils. Both yearning but not doomed.

It is also said that another lives in the Halls of Nienna. A Maia barely of age. They call him Ólsónd. He flutters around bringing life to the quiet. He flickers around, sings, and dances to his own songs. A close confidante of the mysterious Maia by Nienna’s side.

There also lives another Maia. A newer addition. They call him Olorin. He too does not serve Lady Nienna, instead, he learns from her the art of sympathy and empathy. With each passing day, he finds himself growing fonder of the mismatched company.

The halls of Nienna are no longer hauntingly solitary. Instead, they carry small proofs of a budding acceptance. On serene evenings, the company gathers and talks with a drum of wine snuck in from one of the cities.

Halls of Nienna where laws and etiquette of the world hold little weight.

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Eönwë waits. He obeys commands and fulfills his duties. In hope of one day meeting her again. One day when the One would unbind him from his purpose, and he would be free to love her. That day loving her would not come with the bargain of hurting Manwe,

He lives and awaits.

#the silmarillion #ainur #eonwe #Eonwe x OC #Maiar #Maia #Manwe #Varda #Nienna #OC Maia #Hurt #ansgt #sad ending #long fic #ao3fic

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