theheirofashandfire

[theheirofashandfire]

I’m absolutely fucking CRYING at your newest chapter in Aurë Entuluva because the first bit is literally just Maedhros and Fingon arguing about how to deal with Thingol with the fewest casualties possible while Gwedhron is firmly in favor of all the casualties. Maedhros is pretty sure they’re going to have to fight even though he doesn’t really want to, and Fingon is like “We are not invading Doriath, are you stupid?” All very reasonable stuff, two people who are trying very hard to keep things as death-free as possible.

But then there’s Gwedhron. Gwedhron who has created a lengthy catalogue of suitable soldiers. Gwedhron who has written his own notes about useful traits for the ones he likes best. Gwedhron who all but begs Maedhros to give him a battalion and let him beat Thingol’s ass. Maedhros and Fingon are trying their best to find a way to keep the peace, meanwhile Gwedhron’s in the background just RADIATING murder and I am DECEASED. It may be time for Maedhros to break out the toddler leashes again lmao.

I would die for Gwedhron ngl, I’m really looking forward to seeing more of him as this story goes on.

Gwedhron is the person in the back of every single meeting just radiating murder if anyone tries to fuck up anything that matters to Maedhros. He's so fucking loyal that he will do anything that Maedhros requires of him, literally anything.

To be fair to him and Maedhros, Doriath has been a not-really-ally-sort-of-threat for a while now, and this is probably not the first time that Gwedhron or even Maedhros has brainstormed ideas about how you might get into Doriath or what would happen if Noldorin forces went up against Doriathrim. It's a very good mental exercise to carry out to keep skills sharp, etc. Even before the Galad Lain, which I guess is like the ultimate wargame you could possibly have, Maedhros has always been a big proponent of gaming through possible scenarios, and Gwedhron has definitely been in on those plenty of times. He's not as good as Saelwen at planning (she's also always in on these wargames), but he's decent enough for Maedhros' standards to help out. They so easily just fall into a pattern when starting to game out Doriath and possible scenarios and do not realise that Fingon is at the door- Fingon who hasn't seen Maedhros' endless wargames in Himring, not really, who knows this part of his husband and loves it as well but is angry that Maedhros doesn't think he can trust him.

Gwedhron is too loyal to Maedhros to go on a one-man assassination attempt on Thingol, and would fail miserably, but it would be very funny.

#ask #littleflowerfaerie #my fic #silm fic #thread #thread verse #maedhros #gwedhron

[theheirofashandfire]

Hi! I love your Aurë entuluva series. I'm not so good in English so, I don't leave a review often. However, I always try to do my best to read every chapter as it is updated because I really love how you portrait every character and their complexity.

About the game of birds, can I choose two? 🙈

🐧or maybe 🕊️ for kidnap fam 🥺👉👈 please

Ooh yes absolutely you may have both! I don't have that much on the kidnap fam yet, because it mostly hasn't been written yet, but these are some snippets that have been floating around in my head. I'm going to do them both in the same scene, as that's just how this has turned out.

🐧 a funny quote (silly! laughs! jokes! puns!)

🕊️ a sweet quote (something sweet, fluffy! maybe it's cute or funny banter! or sappy wedding vows!)

"Shh," Maglor says as he eases the door open. "Let's be quiet now, shall we?"

The boys, their tiny hands in both of his, follow him with wide and solem gazes as they slip through the back door. Maglor lets it close quietly behind him.

He's not an idiot. He knows he has to tell Maedhros about this, about everything that has happened in that small village down the coast from Vinyamar, about the lighthouse and the fire and Elwing- the avalanche has started, and Maedhros and Fingon need to start writing to Dior to explain why his daughter jumped from a lighthouse into the crashing sea. He has to explain why the necklace around his neck is missing a familiar warm weight.

But first, the boys need sleep, and food, and somewhere safe to catch their breath and realise that they are safe. Maglor squeezes both of the tiny hands in his. "You're safe here," he says again. "I promise."

They make it another corridor before there's a tug on his hand. When he looks down, Elrond- he thinks it is Elrond, but they are hard to tell apart- is looking up at him with wide eyes. "My feet hurt," he whispers. "Is it much further?"

Maglor's heart promptly breaks in half. "Oh, sweetheart," he says, crouching down and pulling both of the twins to stand in front of him. "Are you both tired?"

Elrond nods, chewing on his lip. "Is it much further?" he asks again.

Maglor maps out Barad Eithel in his head. They have to go up at least three more flights of stairs before making it to his chambers. "I tell you what," he says, looking between the both of them, "it's been a very long few days, hasn't it? And you've both been so brave. How about I carry you the rest of the way?"

"But there's two of us," Elros mutters. "Nana says she can't carry both of us at once. We're too big."

Maglor tries not to see Elwing's shocked expression as she stumbles and falls, the sea rushing up to meet her. "I think we can manage," he says. "Elros, why don't you climb onto my back, and then Elrond I can pick you up with my other arm."

It takes a couple minutes, but soon both the twins are secure in his arms, and Maglor is back on his feet. "Let's go, then," he says. "Nearly there."

They don't quite make it. Maglor is trying to navigate through a door without the use of either of his arms when it abruptly opens from the other side. Both of the twins jump, Elrond squeaking in fright and burying his head into Maglor's neck, and Maglor stares straight into the eyes of Maedhros' captain.

Saelwen stares back. "Really."

Maglor grimaces. "It's not what it looks like?"

At that, Saelwen arches a brow. "You do know that I know most of your guard?" she asks. "And that they had some interesting stories the minute they came back to Barad Eithel?"

Maglor breathes out. Elrond's face is still pressed tight into his neck, and he thinks that he can feel Elros trembling. "Saelwen," he says quietly. "I- I'll tell Maedhros everything, I'll tell Fingon, but first I- they need somewhere safe, and they need to sleep and eat and have a moment to just breathe, and I'm not going to parade them in front of the High King of the Noldor when they've just lost-"

He cuts himself off before he can upset either of them. "Please, Saelwen, just- let me keep this quiet for a little while."

Saelwen smirks. "I wasn't going to say anything. I have a bet going about how long it's going to take for Maedhros to find out about them, and I need you to keep it quiet for precisely another twelve hours, if you don't mind." Her grin widens. "I'll split the profits with you."

#ask #anon #ask game #I haven't yet written the kidnap fam but I will be getting there!

[theheirofashandfire]

they mean the world to me

[theheirofashandfire]

Hope Dangles on a String: Chapter Four

Maedhros resists the urge to pull out of his grasp. “You don’t understand.” “So explain it to me!” Fingon urges, shaking him a little. “I can’t!” Maedhros spits. “I can’t put words to it, I can’t explain it, because you never swore the Oath. And I thank anything I can name that you didn’t, that it didn’t damn you too, but I cannot explain it. Sometimes it feels like every single thing I do is leading me down a road that the Oath put into place the moment I spoke it, whether or not I’m trying to actually fulfil it.”

#my fic #silm fic #thread #thread verse #maedhros #fingon #domestic troubles! #this was actually hard to write because they're such an old married couple #and I don't like them arguing #but it was necessary for the plot

[theheirofashandfire]

silm pacific rim AU???? Oh that sounds FASCINATING. Also angsty af if you're starting with Maedhros and Fingon!

Ooooh, you had to think up Jaeger names!!! Bet that was fun! Willing to share any or would that be spoilers?

Ohh boy this is actually the problem! I can't come up with names!

This is also a problem I can crowdsource, however, so I'm opening it up to the floor, and will welcome any and all name suggestions. I need names for at least three jaeger:

Maedhros and Sauron's jaeger is already named, that's called the Silmarilli. Sorry not sorry. In this verse, Fëanor is the inventor of the neural handshake and the jaeger program writ large, and the tech is his life's work. It's veeeeery interesting how Sauron potentially corrupts that.

Fingon and Argon's jaeger: I know, you might be thinking it's a bit of a rogue pairing, but a) it's only for the very beginning of the story, I needed Fingon to be a jaeger pilot but crucially not drifting with Maedhros, and Argon fitted the best out of the immediate people that would be around him in this AU. Also works nicely with the fact that Argon dies early on in the silm... Anyway, this one needs a name!

Finrod and Bëor's jaeger: not a clue what the name of their jaeger could be- the obvious is the Edain, but it seems too obvious.

Beleg and Túrin's jaeger: I haven't decided if they're going to be in this story yet or not, but if there was another jaeger pair I needed to introduce for the plot it would be them. Again, no clue on a name.

Also, have another snippet as well because this story is so angsty and I love it.

Maglor sighs as it descends into bickering. It’s been like this for days as he’s schlepped back and forth across the country, picking up his brothers from wherever they were stationed or from various airports and trying to swallow down the fear as the hours stretch on and the sporadic texts from Fëanor remained just versions of situation no change. Everyone’s nerves are stretched thin and shredding to pieces, and in this family, that only tends to end in one way.

“Enough!” Maglor snaps at the first sound of fist against flesh. “Will you all just fucking quit it for one goddamn second?”

There’s a stunned silence from the back. “Sorry,” one of the twins says, his voice muted.

“Yeah, sorry Káno,” the other says. “We didn’t mean to start anything.”

Maglor pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine,” he makes himself say. “I know it’s hard right now. But please, please, can you all just behave for once in your goddamn lives. Nelyo is- everything is fucked, I know everything is fucked and we’re all scared and angry, but all of you fucking around is not going to make anything better.”

“Yeah, fucking can it,” Celegorm says, twisting around in the front seat. “Amrod, Amras, I swear to god I can and will send you back home if you get underfoot. I don’t care if all the flights are fucked, I will find a way.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Amrod replies. “Not with Nelyo…”

He trails off. The mood in the car immediately drops, the pelting of rain on the car the only sound. Maglor’s knuckles are white where he’s clutching the steering wheel.

He’d been half-watching the news when it happened, the tv on mute in one corner of the room as he worked. After so many missions he’s seen his brother on, they’ve somewhat lost their shine.

He hadn’t even noticed the Silmarilli had been hit until someone else in the room had gasped and pointed at the screen. Even then, Maglor had been inclined to shrug it off. The jaegers are near-indestructible. They take hits all the time.

He had looked up just in time to see the Silmarilli get nearly torn in half by a single swipe of the kaiju’s claws.

By the time the fight was over and the kaiju was dead, Fingon’s jaeger limping and the Silmarilli spitting sparks and slowly keeling over in the water, Maglor thought he was going to be sick. When he saw Sauron’s escape pod jettison and not Maedhros’, when Fingon dragged his broken jaeger over and reached inside, and his hand emerged with a glimpse of a limp body held so carefully within the jaeger’s huge grip, he had thrown up.

For the first few hours, he’d thought that maybe it would all be okay. That the escape pod had malfunctioned but it wasn’t much worse than that, that he was hurt but would get better quickly enough. A couple of broken bones, maybe a concussion. Nothing Maedhros hadn’t had before.

It had taken six hours for his phone to ring. Maglor had answered it, expecting his father to have an update, to tell him it was all going to be okay.

“Káno? It’s Tyelko. I- fuck, Ireth just called me. It’s- it’s bad, Káno. It’s real fucking bad.”

At that point, things had started falling apart pretty fast.

#ooooof #seriously though I need jaeger names #I am blanking hard on them #other than the Silmarilli bc that one's obvious #and shhhhh I know Silmarilli is the plural #but it sounds better #ask

[theheirofashandfire]

2, 7, & 18 for the fic writer asks?

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

Ooh, so I know I should be working on the thread verse stories (and I will, I promise) but at the moment I've been uhhhhhhhh distracted by a Silm Pacific Rim AU, which is hella fucking angsty and has a lot of Fingon crying whilst curled up next to Maedhros in his hospital bed whilst blaming himself for everything that's gone wrong. But I'm really enjoying writing Fingolfin in this! I haven't ever written his pov before, and he's a bit like that metaphor of the swan- all calm on the surface, paddling furiously beneath, if that paddling is a carefully restrained fury and ruthlessness that he knows would burn a lot of things down around him if he let it go. But he also loves his kids so damn much and Fingon is currently going through absolute hell, and Fëanor is also suffering- he's alive in this one, and Fingolfin does love his brother and cannot stand seeing Fëanor so broken and devestated about Maedhros being so badly hurt. It's a really interesting and fine balance to try and walk with him, because it's easy to forget that he is a Finwion, and Fëanor's temper isn't an isolated thing.

7. Already answered!

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

So I don't really tend to keep deleted scenes or paragraphs- if I'm in the middle of a story and I don't think a scene fits then I'll chuck it at the end of the story in my notes, in case it'll be useful later, but once I get to the end and finishing writing the story I will delete them! If by that point they're not needed, then they're gone.

That said, I don't really end up with a lot of deleted scenes like that? I tend to edit a lot as a write, and also spend so much time planning these stories that often I know what I'm going to be writing before I get there, so it's rare that I delete chunks of text from a story.

So instead, here's a snippet of dialogue that I wrote ages ago, that's sitting at the bottom of a document entitled War of Wrath: Part One.

Maglor and Maedhros argue: Maedhros: you can’t keep looking back, Kano. Valinor is out of our reach. We left, and whether or not you think we did the right thing back then, in grief and anger and following our father, we did it. We can’t turn back and change it. We don’t get second chances. Maglor: you did. Why should you get to try it again and again until you get it right, and the rest of us just suffer?

Ouch.

#ask #ask game

[theheirofashandfire]

24 & 25 for the fic writer asks? :3

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

Ooh, that's an interesting question. I do go through bouts of not feeling creative or having slumps- the start of this year I didn't write anything for a good couple of months because I'd started a new job and my brain was just being completely consumed by that with little space for anything else.

The main thing I try and do is try to not be mean to myself about it. Like, I can't help it if my creativity has waned, and trying to force it or feel bad about it won't actually help bring it back up. I will lean into my other hobbies- reading, watching semi-good British crime dramas, dnd and the like. Often I find that prolonged periods of manual labour/exercise will help get the creativity flowing- when I was working with horses and doing the morning yard every day, I would often spend that time planning fic and writing it in my head, so sometimes I'll try and replicate that by going for a run, etc, without my usual music or podcasts.

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I'm a massive dnd fan- I haven't been able to play recently but I avidly follow critical role and dimension20, and own way too many sets of dice. I love most genres of fantasy- I've recently been reading books by Guy Gavriel Kay, who helped Christopher Tolkien put together the Silmarillion and so understands how fantasy worldbuilding works, and he writes the most beautiful books. I'd recommend starting with A Song for Arbonne or The Lions of Al-Rassan, those are my favourites. I also recently bought myself a nintendo switch and Tears of the Kingom, which I love! It's the first video game I've ever owned (they were banned in my house when I was a kid) and ugh it's just so good.

I'm also fairly sporty, I used to ride horses competitively and will someday make my way back to it! Genuinely, one of my ten year goals (not that I really hold much stock in those sort of things) is to have a dog and a horse. I'm trying to get into rock climbing more as well, as every time I've done it I really enjoy it, it's just finding the time and the climbing centres.

#ask #ask game

[theheirofashandfire]

4, 7, 19 ✨️✍️

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Ooh there are a couple! The one that immediately springs to mind is the Chiller Fëanor AU- the AU where when the Trees are destroyed and the Valar ask Fëanor for the Silmaril, and when Fëanor pauses, one tiny thing is different, and that is Fingolfin speaking out for him. Stopping the Valar (is it Tulkas? I don't have my silm copy in front of me) from accusing Fëanor of being prideful, and making everyone pause for a second, which is just enough time for Maedhros and the rest of his brothers to turn up covered in Finwë's blood, and to explain that the Silmarils have been taken.

This of course kickstarts a whole chain of events that (as is the usual with me) mirror and parallel canon but don't quite follow it, but I don't have the exact sequence planned out yet. What I do know is that Maedhros does still get captured by Morgoth, and Fingon does once again go after him, but this time he has company.

7. your preferred writing fonts

Oh I'm so basic, I write everything in a google docs and just use the standard font that the doc starts with, so it's Arial size 11, which is very boring! I used to turn the page of my doc pale green, back when I was writing on word, to make the contrast a little less, but for some reason I've stopped doing that in the past few years- maybe my laptop screen is better or something.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

I think the most interesting thing I've researched is probably the Tour de France for the TMFU fic that I wrote aaages ago. There's a surprising amount of strategy that goes into the race, it's not just about who can cycle the fastest, and some of it is absolutely fascinating. Each team has a lead rider, who they want to win the yellow jersey, and then pretty much the entirety of the rest of the 7-8 man team (bar a sprinter, though they're not on all teams) is a domestique, which literally translates to servant. They exist to get the leader to the line as quickly as possible. There's a lot of strategy about when to make a break for it or how to control the front of the pack (called the peleton) or whether to do something like send one or two riders up the road to then be there ready for the lead rider to catch up to them later. If you want to see an absolute masterclass in strategy, watch this clip of the Tour in 2022, where the favourite Pogacar was basically broken by his main rival Vingegaard and his teammate- Vingegaard went on to win the Tour that year, and the year after.

#ask #ask game

[theheirofashandfire]

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

#go ahead!!

[theheirofashandfire]

New chapter for Hope Dangles on a String will have to go up tomorrow instead of tonight, I am unexpectedly busy until late tonight! Sorry!

To make up for this, have a snippet of the thing I am working on. This is uhhhhhh not what I am meant to be working on. It's not even the thing I've been working on when I'm not working on the thing I should be working on, if that makes any sense.

Yes, I have started yet another wip. Should I have done this? No. Is it too late? Yes. I'm too far down the rabbit hole now. And that was a very purposeful metaphor there.

This isn't a thread verse snippet, and it's not even an F1 AU snippet. Instead...

I'm working on a Pacific Rim Silm AU, god help me. It's already 18k.

Help.

After the endless bright screens of the control room, the dim lights of the hospital room take Fingolfin a few moments to get used to. He slips in through the door, closing it as quietly as possible behind him. Not that it matters. Fingon is awake, as Fingolfin already knew from checking the security cameras before coming down here, and Maedhros-

Well, a door shutting too loudly isn’t going to do anything to disturb Maedhros right now.

Fingon stirs from the curled up ball he’s scrunched himself into at Maedhros’ bedside as Fingolfin comes in. “Dad?” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “What time is it?”

“Nearly three in the morning,” Fingolfin murmurs. Someone, probably Aredhel, has stolen one of the break room armchairs for the room. There are scratches on the worn lino floor from where it was dragged in. Fingon has all but lived in it since it turned up, curled up in the old, lumpy cushions and staunchly refusing to leave Maedhros’ bedside.

The mechanical whoosh and click of air barely breaks through the quiet of the room as Fingolfin pulls over one of the hard hospital chairs and takes a seat next to the bed. Fingon, having uncurled slightly at his father’s appearance, curls back in on himself. He tucks his knees up to his chest, one arm wrapped around them, fingers snared in the faded red fabric of sweatpants that are far too long in the leg for him. The other arm is outstretched, clutching onto Maedhros’ limp hand like a lifeline.

Fingolfin knows what he has to say, but he can’t bring himself to break the quiet of the room, the rhythm of the heart monitor, the drip of the IV and the steady whoosh of air being pushed down into lungs that still won’t work on their own. Instead, he just gently squeezes Fingon’s shoulder and settles back into his own uncomfortable plastic chair to keep watch.

Maedhros is so still. He has been ever since Fingolfin first saw him being rushed in on a stretcher through the bay doors, since the first low-resolution feed from the support helicopter hovering overhead cleared up and he saw the images of Fingon’s jaeger, the bright royal blue nearly black in the dark of the storm, sparks still falling from the jagged slashes across one side of the body and one giant hand carefully cradling the limp body that he’d pulled from the wreckage of what used to be their best jaeger.

Sauron had already been in the air by that point, pulled out of the crashing sea by the support helicopter. Knowing what he knows now, his last few words over the comms that Fingolfin remembers Sauron saying make him feel sick.

“I- fuck, I just lost him. I’ve lost him. He’s- fuck, he’s gone.”

Maedhros’ chest rises and falls steadily beneath the blankets, but there’s no comfort in it when each movement is accompanied by the mechanical click and whoosh of air through the tube disappearing past his lips. Fingolfin has read the medical reports, has read every report that the doctors have written as they’ve become more and more concerned as to why he’s not waking up.

He’s already told Elenwë everything he just found out. There must be an entire cabal of doctors in one of the other rooms here, heads tucked together as they try to work out what the hell this means medically. Fëanor is furiously parsing through the rest of the software rescued from the jaeger, someone else in the room at all times to make sure he doesn’t disappear on a revenge mission, and there’s a notice for arrest out for Sauron.

There are a thousand other things he has to do, but none of them can happen until he finds a way to tell Fingon something he knows will shatter him.

Fingolfin hasn’t drifted with someone for a long time, but he remembers what it is like. He knows how the pilots think of it, the trust that is the foundation of the entire thing. He knows how Fingon’s face lit up the first time he drifted with Argon.

He’s seen how every time Fingon stepped out of the jaeger after a drift, his eyes went to Maedhros.

He should have seen how Maedhros never looked back, how he stuck like a dog to Sauron’s heels. He should have fucking seen it all.

Fingon shifts next to him, his thumb rubbing circles onto the back of Maedhros’ hand. “I always thought I would drift with him,” he says.

Fingolfin stays silent, and he waits. Fingon grimaces, resting his chin on his knees where they’re tucked up to his chest. “We promised each other,” he murmurs, the words nearly lost beneath the beeping of the heart monitor and the mechanical woosh of air. “Back when we were in Tirion, when the concept itself was a pipe dream. Russo came over one night and told me what his father was inventing, and he told me that when it was ready, we’d do it together. That we’d be the first, that we’d be the best. Blow everyone else out of the water, he said.”

“Son,” Fingolfin says softly.

Fingon sniffs. “I really thought we would,” he murmurs. “Even after you and Fëanor fought, and- and Russo going away and then turning back up partnered with Sauron, even after I started drifting with Argon and it all just seemed set, I still thought-” He breaks off, his eyes wet. “I kept thinking to myself, eventually. One day. We had time. I thought we had time.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Fingolfin murmurs. He gets up from his uncomfortable plastic chair and perches on the edge of the armchair so he can wrap his arms around Fingon as best as he can. “I’m sorry.”

Fingon sniffs, leaning into Fingolfin’s side. “What is it you needed, anyway?” he asks after a long moment. “Did Fëanor finally find what went wrong with his jaeger?”

Fingolfin’s heart sinks down to curl up at his feet. He takes a moment, one hand rubbing up and down Fingon’s arm, over and over. “You know how the neurological tests have been…less promising than what would be expected from what happened?” he makes himself say. “That there have been a few things the doctors haven’t been able to yet explain? That we couldn’t work out why the jaeger got knocked out like it did in the middle of the fight?”

Fingon flinches under his arm. He turns to look up at Fingolfin, his eyes still wet, and Fingolfin feels his heart breaking all over again. He has to reach out and rest a hand over Maedhros’ limp one, feeling the warmth from where Fingon has been holding onto him all this time.

“Dad?” Fingon asks.

Fingolfin watches the rise and fall of Maedhros’ chest. “I- there’s something I have to tell you about what happened."

#i'm so mean #I've shown this to someone and they have yelled repeatedly at me #here there be angst #such juicy juicy angst #silm fic #my fic #pacific rim au #I should not have started this but now I have and it's too late

[theheirofashandfire]

Ugh, was having a great time mocking my recently imprisoned rival when I noticed the camera positioning makes it so that I appear behind the bars, thus framing me as trapped in a metaphorical prison of the narrative, now my whole day is ruined. Fuck.

[theheirofashandfire]

What will happen to Mablung and Beleg (ESPECIALLY Beleg) once inevitably Túrin dies?

I also wondered, how long do you think the thread verse will be? (Please, be forever🥺) And when you were writing it, did you plan it to be a standalone and then it somehow twisted and turned and voilà, a 500k masterpiece?

Okay okay SO first off- as to how long the thread verse will be, I don't know! I have Plans up to the end of the First Age, and then I might keep going after that point, but I can't make any solid predictions! At the moment I'm going wildly off piste and working on a Pacific Rim silm au because the idea would not leave me alone, but I have more thread stories on the backburner that I will come back to. We're definitely going to get to the thread verse's version of the War of Wrath, because I've already started that story- it begins with the Celegorm/Oromë showdown and will seque into the thread verse's version of the kidnap fam, before finishing with the War of Wrath and Fingon getting to yell at the Valar.

Did I plan this?

Fuck no.

Not at first, definitely. I started writing A Thread Unraveled during lockdown and thought it would just be a standalone story, and then about two-thirds of the way through I realised that it was uhhhhhh not going to be that. And once I realised that, I spent five minutes lamenting my inability to not turn everything I write into a series, and then started planning. By the time I had finished Thread, I knew the rough outline of the series up to the end of the First Age- there's been changes that I've made along the way, especially with this Doriath story, but I had a very rough sketch already by that point.

Now, to answer your question about Beleg and Turin: it's not gonna be easy for Beleg when Túrin dies, but it is something they both knew would be a thing when they went into their relationship, and they prepare for it. Beleg is grieving, but he also knows he had so much of a better time with Túrin in his life than if they had just remained passing friends in a mishmash of alliances, and he's grateful for it. Both he and Mablung end up watching over the House of Hador- Nienor's children and their children and so on- because it helps them remain close to him, and Beleg sees Túrin in generation after generation of stubborn kids with good hearts.

That said, fuck the whole thing of the Men going off somewhere else in the Halls, this is my canon and I make the rules.

Beleg stands on the brow of the hill and stares out across the harbour.

He has never seen so many ships in one place. Fingon had said that there were more to come, that this was the first wave of several, but Beleg can't see how there could possibly be more. Already the harbour is heaving with the vessels, elegantly moving into place alongside the long extending arms of the docks that Caranthir's people are building as fast as they can. The entire harbour is a hive of activity as supplies and people come ashore, and the encampment is now a sprawling mass of tents that gleam in the sunlight and seems to grow by the minute.

For a moment, Beleg wishes that Túrin could see this, and a familiar ache gently crests once again in his chest. His hand comes up and touches the cord around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of the ring warm against his chest, and then he starts walking down the hill towards the camp.

Amongst the gleaming, unsullied armour and golden hair, Beleg knows he stands out. It's not a surprise when after only a few minutes of wandering, he's approached.

"Beleg Cúthalion?" someone asks, bowing their head to him as he heads towards what he assumes is the centre of the encampment. "My name is Edrahil. My Lord Finrod would like to see you, if you have the time."

Beleg bows his head back. "I received word that my presence was required," he replies. "I don't know what for..."

Edrahil smiles. "It shouldn't take more than a moment. If you'll follow me."

He leads him not into the centre of the encampment, but to the harbour itself. The air is thick with the smell of brine and the creak of wood on the waves that lap at the makeshift docks. All around him people are moving, unloading ships and moving supplies onto the land, but they part around him and Edrahil easily, most bowing their heads or nodding as they pass.

Finrod Felagund is stood at the end of one of the docks, watching as several ships manoeuvre out in the bay. "Ah, Edrahil," he says with a smile as they approach. "And Beleg. It is a pleasure to see you again."

Beleg clasps his outstretched hand. "It has been a very long time indeed," he replies. "In all honesty, it is not a time I thought I would see."

Finrod smiles widely. "Well, when needs must," he says. "Thank you, Edrahil. Can you check in with Finduilas for me? I would, but- well, you know."

Beleg hadn't been there when Finduilas had seen Finrod step off a ship and promptly launched herself at him, but the bruise from her punch is still green and yellow on Finrod's chin. Edrahil smirks. "I'll do my best," he says.

"What is it I'm needed for?" Beleg asks as Edrahil leaves and they are alone at the end of the docks once again. "If you want advice on the movement of troops or supplies, I am not the person you should be asking for."

"No, no, Maeglin has it all well in hand from what I understand," Finrod replies. "I'm somewhat superfluous, now that I have brought my host to these shores." He turns to Beleg, and his smile softens and becomes something else. "I don't need anything from you, Beleg Cúthalion," he says. "Instead, I come bearing a message."

Beleg frowns. "A message? From whom?"

"From a very stubborn Edain that refuses to walk through the door meant for him," Finrod says with a smile. "One of Namo's messengers came and found me. They were very irate about the whole thing, but apparently he simply refuses to move."

Beleg's heart feels like it is trying to burst out of his chest. "I don't-"

"Apparently he came to the Halls a number of decades ago, by Beleriand reckoning," Finrod continues. "And he was told of the path that all Men must take, through the Halls to outside of this world, and on." He laughs. "And he said thank you, but no thank you, and sat down on the floor."

"I- what?"

"He was asked what he was doing, why he would not go through where all else of his kind have trod before," Finrod says, "and he merely said that he was waiting for someone to make their way across the Seas and come and find him."

Beleg can feel his knees about to go from beneath him. "Please," he hears himself say. "Can you- I can't-"

Finrod's smile is so wide, even as there are tears in his eyes. "He said his name was Túrin. Beleg's Túrin, and that if everyone could kindly leave him alone, he was happy to pass the time waiting until his dear one came and collected him."

Beleg's legs go from beneath him. He sags down to the rough wood of the docks, collapsing onto his knees. "Are you- are you sure?" he gets out, his chest heaving with sobs he dare not allow to leave his lips. "Are you sure?"

Finrod crouches down in front of him. "I am sure," he says softly. "I saw him waiting there myself, in my own time in those Halls. He told me to tell you love, and not wisdom. He said that would mean something to you."

At this, Beleg does sob. "It's him," he gets out, burying his face in his hands as his entire body heaves with sobs. "It's really him. I- I can't..."

"We have a war to win here, first," Finrod says softly, gently clutching Beleg's shoulders. "But once we have won, I promise you, the first seat on the first ship heading West is yours."

The Halls loom above him, grand and cold and terrifying. Beleg swallows, and walks up the long marble steps to the doors.

The echo of him knocking seems to reverberate through his bones. It fades out slowly, swallowed up by the very air around him. For a moment, there is silence, and then the great doors in front of him creaks open.

Beleg pokes his head inside. "Hello?" he calls out into the grey nothingness, the floor and walls and ceiling disappearing into grey fog only a few feet away from him. "Is anyone there?"

Do not step in any further, unless you wish to remain in these Halls.

Beleg gulps, and glances down to make sure his feet are definitely outside the threshold. "I thank you for your caution," he calls out into the grey. "I am Beleg Cúthalion. I received a message from Finrod Felagund on the shores of Beleriand, one that he brought me from these Halls."

Beleg Cúthalion. Yes. We know who you are. We know exactly who you are.

The echoing voice sounds...exasperated?

Beleg takes a steadying breath. "I was told that there was someone here waiting for me. If I may just see them, if I might begrudge your time for just a moment, I would- please." His voice wobbles. "I would very much like to see him again, even if just for a moment."

You may have him.

Beleg blinks. "I- what?"

Take him. Please. He is your charge now.

Beleg blinks again. He was not expecting this. "I- just like that?"

Here. We do not want to see him again. He is yours.

A shape begins to emerge out of the grey. It's one that Beleg would recognise anywhere, would know with his eyes closed and all his senses dumb, after millenia apart on the threshold of the end of the world entire.

Keeping his feet outside of the threshold is the hardest thing he has ever had to do.

Túrin's smile is blinding as he steps out of the doors. "I told you," he says, young and hearty and whole, just as Beleg remembers from the best years of his life. "I told you I would wait for you."

"I-" Beleg reaches out for him.

His hand touches Túrin's cheek, feels the beginnings of stubble beneath his fingertips. Túrin's breath ghosts across his palm as he huffs a laugh.

Túrin catches him as his legs give out, and bundles him up in his arms. "I told you," he says as Beleg collapses into him, wrapping his arms around him just like he remembers. "Love, and not wisdom. I told you!"

Beleg doesn't know if he's laughing or crying. All he knows is that Túrin is here, and so is he, and the world is the brightest it could ever be.

#look they deserve to be together and happy forever #this is my canon I make the rules now #my fic #silm fic #thread #thread verse #beleg #turin

[theheirofashandfire]

It surprised me quite a bit when I published Hollow Valleys and people were mad at Beren and Luthien in the comments! Like I got it, because the thread verse is overwhelmingly Noldorin in its pov, and because Maedhros is all about Duty and Responsibility which is very much counter to Beren and Luthien's selfish happy ending, but I've also always felt some sympathy for them! The above is so right, they must have been so lonely and both been so isolated, and to get the chance to just be happy together and be selfish after so much pain- that does seem like a reasonable offer to take.

Oh. OH. A Realisation about Beren, Luthien (and Probably Finrod, Too)

so I've been reading the Thread'verse by @theheirofashandfire, and the antagonism a lot of people feel towards Beren and Luthien startles me a bit, because I've always liked them as people. But I get it too, because it is true what a lot of critics say about them. Their quest isn't exactly selfless. They're fighting for their happiness, their life together, and once they've obtained it, the Happily Ever After of Tol Galen is really a Choice for someone who is the princess of one of the most peaceful (and therefore, most prosperous and strong) realms in Beleriand, and the lord of one of the three Houses of the Edain.

Except, and I keep thinking about it – it has always made perfect sense to me why they'd make those choices, because think about it. Really think about it.

Beren and Luthien are so, so freaking lonely.

Imagine being Luthien. You are the princess. That's weight enough, and isolating enough, and a position that makes making friends hard enough. But also, flowers bloom under your feet. You are Very Unlike everyone else, and there is no getting around this fact, there is no escaping or ignoring it, and even if you want to ignore it, a lot of people around you don't. Because they praise you, they write songs about your beauty, they call you their kingdom's nightingale and beauty and the fairest of them all.

They revere you. And that can be so, so profoundly lonely.

And Beren – Beren. Last survivor, as far as he knows, last survivor of his band of outlaws, the last, the last, the last. Surviving, and he doesn't even know why anymore, he just is, because he doesn't know how to do anything else, other than fight and survive. Beren, so, so profoundly alone and grieving.

And these two lonely people meet, and fall in love, and–

And. Instead of support or welcome, Thingol loses his shit and tries to imprison Beren. Sets him off on an impossible quest. And Beren says, "You know what? I'll do it." Because it's also impossible that he's survived this long when no-one else did and for the first time in forever, he's seeing something that's actually worth fighting for. So off he goes. He's getting there, one way or another.

And Luthien, whose father has just betrayed her trust, who has just put her love on a suicide quest, who has been outed by Daeron, who was her one-maybe friend...is then imprisoned. Locked away. For her own good, of course. It's for the best, of course.

...Look at how the world has treated them. Really, really look at it. And I honestly can't blame them for not accounting for how their actions affect other people. Because they can be read as being so, so damn lonely, and the thing about loneliness is, you have, by definition, felt that you and your actions have stopped mattering and being connected to others.

...Finrod is less explicable but I'll think about it.

...And there's a lot that could be said about Melian in this too, but that's another meta for another day.

[theheirofashandfire]

okay so: I am HOOKED on your series, and I just want to ask: thoughts about Thingol??? both in canon and in threads? because like, the (canon) narrative is relatively kind to him, even when his actions are. uh. "dick" is...not strong enough, in my opinion. But it's just so fascinating when you think about his alliance with Denethor and the fact that Thingol isn't ignorant, he remembers Cuivienen, for goodness' sake-- anyway, just, yeah. Thoughts on him? :D

Ooh okay! So! I do have Thoughts about Thingol but he's probably one of the characters from the silm that I've thought the least about? Because up until now he hasn't been a massive presence in the thread verse, so I haven't had to do a deep dive into him like I have done with many, many other characters.

That said! Being the character I've thought the least about does not mean much with how much I think about this series and the silm in general.

Thingol isn't an idiot. In general (in life) I think that very few people actually are. People are better at certain things than others, some people are smarter or work harder or their brains are wired that allows them to understand things easier or differently, but in general I think very few people are just dumb. And Thingol is definitely not an idiot- he's a King, his realm has been stable and thriving for a long time, and whilst yes a lot of that is down to Melian and her Girdle, he must have still had a part in that.

Thingol's problem, in both canon and the thread verse, is that he looks inwards too quickly. His first concern is he and his- what can he do to protect himself and the people around him? This very well could be a holdover from being one of the first elves to wake in Middle Earth and experiencing the darkness of Morgoth before Oromë arrived, where he and probably many others learned that you can't save everyone. That's a difficult lesson to learn, but one I think Thingol took and turned to mean 'look after you and yours, everything else is beyond your reach'. And then the Girdle gives him the absolute perfect excuse to reinforce this belief- he literally can't help anyone outside of it, because to do so would endanger the people he's saved So Well! They're so safe and protected! Look what a good job he's done! Also fuck these new people who are saying he's not a good King- he's doing much better than they are, their King is dead and their new King is also dead (oh whoops he's not, doesn't matter much). Doriath is Stable and Secure, and that's what matters, and he does not need these kinslayers coming in to fuck everything up.

He does also have legitimate reasons to be mad about the kinslaying, remember, and to be very wary of Noldorin influence given the fucking chaos they all are and the spectre of Alqualondë hovering over them.

The years of peace that follow don't do much to change this narrative for Thingol- Doriath is doing just fine, all good, just keep moving, stay away from the carnage that is Noldorin politics and family all in one. And then the Dagor Bragollach happens and once again, Doriath comes out pretty good compared to everyone else! Look what a good job he's doing! All of this just serves to reinforce his isolationist policies and reafirm the idea that he's doing the right thing here.

And then in canon, the Nirnaeth happens and it reinforces literally everything above. The Noldor are no longer a threat, and Thingol didn't lose anyone at all to that massacre. Pat on the back, job well done.

In the thread verse, the Galad Lain happens instead, and Thingol finds himself in the very uncomfortable position of being wrong about the outcome, and now very much not being involved in some very important alliances with some very important people. But he's spent so long with his isolationism and his unconscious biases being reinforced that he can't back out and he can't back down- he has to be right.

Admitting you're wrong is such a hard thing to do, and Thingol has not had any practice at it at all, and so he doubles down. He has no other option. And to do that, to make the isolation of Doriath matter, he has to convince himself and his people that it is still needed- and to do that, he has to believe that the Noldor are still a threat to him and his.

This is where the paranoia starts creeping in. This where things really start going wrong. Because remember, Thingol isn't an idiot. He's smart enough and capable enough to be able to take this unconscious need that he has- the Noldor have to still be a threat- and turn it into actions. And from there, everything just spirals. He doesn't even realise it's out of control- to him, this all makes sense. It all makes perfect sense. It has to.

#ask #quillingmesoftly #silm fic #my fic #thread #thread verse #this was a really interesting one to think about! #a lot of stuff I had vaguely floating in my head about thingol that i didn't realise until i put it onto paper

[theheirofashandfire]

Hey, I’m in your inbox asking about background lore again lol.

Do you mind if I ask you about the ages of your various OCs? Obviously the canon characters are their canon ages but the OCs are a wild card and I’m very curious.

Ooh yes okay so in general I am Bad with ages for characters! I tend to put them into generational brackets and then leave it there- I could not give you an exact age for any of the humans, for example, only rough brackets of 2-3 years.

That said! I can definitely give you rough age brackets and comparisons to the main characters.

Saelwen: she was a young adult when Fëanor and co came to Beleriand- old enough to fight and to have a voice in her band of Northern Sindarin people who sought shelter with the Fëanorians, but young enough to not have any responsibilities that would stop her from swearing allegiance to Maedhros, and also young enough that she didn't have that sort of gap in her life already filled. If she'd been any older, she might have already found that stability and loyalty somewhere else, but as a young Elda she was still looking for someone to follow. By the time she was Maedhros' captain she was old enough, and most importantly experienced enough, that her being a fair bit younger than Maedhros didn't matter.

Gwedhron: he's Valinorean, and about the same age as Caranthir, so younger than Maedhros but not massively in the grand scheme of things. He didn't become Fëanorian properly until Fëanor's exile, at which point he followed him to Formenos for reasons that we'll get to in a future story. He is older than Saelwen, which he initially did try to use as leverage against her, but she told him to fuck off pretty sharpish with that one.

Idhron: he's the oldest out of all of them, he's roughly Fingolfin's age and in that generational bracket rather than Fingon and Maedhros'. He grew up in Tirion, slowly orbiting closer to the royal family and then Fingolfin's family in particular- initially a scribe, Fingolfin hired him on early on in the building of Barad Eithel and then his job just organically grew from there.

Haerel: at first meetings you might think that Haerel has been around literally forever, but actually they're quite young. They were of age when crossing the Helcaraxë, but only just- they swiftly moved up the ranks of the healers both because a number of them died on the ice but also because they are smart and learn quickly. They got a lot of askance looks when on the shores of Mithrim for being so senior a healer when they were still quite young, but their competence put that to bed very quickly. And then once Maedhros backed them nobody was going to say anything.

#ask #littleflowerfaerie #my fic #silm fic #thread #thread verse #I love gwedhron but he did make saelwen's life difficult for a while

[theheirofashandfire]

I would also like to add a proposal that 'WTF THINGOL' in block lettering should be an official Thread verse fan t shirt

Hahahaha yesssss absolutely! WTF Thingol was one of the main driving forces of this story in some places, because seriously dude. Come on.

He was actually quite hard to write in places, because I'm often quite a logical person and he is.....not, in this series. I've also not spent much time at all in his head yet, even when we've dug more into Doriath and Menegroth's politics. But as with everything in the thread verse, what I love is doing is digging down deep into the very human reasons for why people do what they do, and for Thingol, that is the effect that isolation has on someone. I'll save the rambles because there's another ask where I'll dig into him a lot more, but yes indeed, wtf Thingol.

#ask #wingsofindigo #silm fic #my fic #thread #thread verse #thingol

[theheirofashandfire]

Okay like

While i am beyond overjoyed that we're BACK BABY i would also like to say that this latest installment is responsible for my weekly 15 minute ohSHIT OH shit oh sHiT sessions lol

Its so gooooooood sm TENSION asdfhjkss

That being said, i am absolutely thinking of this as the Natural Disaster story bc like, how events are moving esp in this last chapter is remining me irrepresibly of an avalanche or a landslide. Like, it starts slow. A few pebbles, a loud noise, a shift. And then it rumbles quietly, maybe a slight noise- you can hear the start of the slide but you can't see it. And then you see it and it's so far off you can't imagine it will reach you.

This chapter though, for me a reader at least, is literally just seeing the avalanche on the horizon and knowing that however fast you run it's going to engulf you anyway and it's up to luck and fate what and who will survive.

(Yes im dying thanks for asking😅😅😅)

(Also how dare they kill the bird! 😭 I do sincerely hope whomever was responsible for this crime in story shall be justly rewarded for their henious crime!😠)

It's been three chapters of what is going to be a 90k fic and the tension is already ratcheting up to the point people are yelling at me in the comments and my inbox, I am so here for this.

In all seriousness, this was a really good story for me in terms of expanding my craft, because the rise and fall of tension took a lot of fine tuning! There were points in this story where I got to a massive decision point, a no-turning-back plot point, and I genuinely didn't know which way it would fall until I got there, looked back at the story I'd already written, and went 'ah, I've been building it to make this decision'. There's a couple of these points coming later- one about halfway through the story, at which point things are going to very much switch tracks in terms of who the narrative is focusing on and who is shouldering the weight of the story, and then there's a second one much further towards the end.

The description of this story as a natural disaster is sooooo good, because in the very initial thoughts I had about this story (or at least this part of the series, I didn't know then whether it would be one story or multiple), the line running in my head was 'some things are set in stone'. Something something a tragedy is a tragedy because there are so many ways it could have been averted, a tragedy is a tragedy because it was also going to always end this way. We are obviously paralleling and mirroring canon in this story a lot, and this is probably the closest we're ever going to get to the narrative threads of canon and those of this verse coinciding, and that has been a lot of work but also a lot of fun to play with. A lot of what happens in this story might have always been inevitable- the third Silmaril was always going to cause something if not in the right hands. A lot of this might have been avoided if even the smallest of things had been different. A lot of it, you just can't end.

A lot of what happens in this story was set in motion a number of stories ago- that's literally why one of the earlier thread stories, the first one that focuses on Doriath, is called Set in Motion. I've been playing a very long game with this, with Melian and Thingol and Maedhros, and so many more characters who might have a small part in this story, but like those small stones, help shove everything along until the momentum is too far gone to ever be able to stop.

As for the bird! I did feel bad for like a split second when I decided to kill off the bird, but the point of that is to drive home the message that things are getting fucking serious. Menegroth is descending into factions, and people are making ill-timed or rash or stupid decisions, or even just decisions they think are right because they're scared or angry or tired, or don't have the right information or won't listen to the right people. And it's the little things that get hurt first

#ask #anon #thread #thread verse #my fic #silm fic #sorry the bird did have to die