melestasflight

[melestasflight]

For the kiss prompt, if the fancy strikes.

Fingon/Maglor... on a scar. The scar is Fingon's

hi hi melesta!! have this quick little thing! <3

“I am writing a ballad,” Maglor says, tracing Fingon’s palm with his index finger, “since I have found no such works, or at least none particularly inspired. Of things left behind, I should say, in the ice and fire.” 

“I would not imagine five fingerbreadths of skin to have much of a poetic ring,” Fingon says, “as a phrase.” 

They sit together on the hastily-built pier, watching the huge dark catfish of Lake Mithrim pass beneath them. The lake is cold, far too cold to swim in, but Fingon has kicked off his boots, and dangles his feet into the water. Maglor shivers looking at it for too long. But the sun is warm, overhead, and he lets his mink cloak drop down to the wood below him, pooling by their hips. 

“Ah, but it may be that sort of ballad, bloody, visceral,” Maglor says, “a bear, you say?” 

“Ice-bear,” Fingon says, “as a regular bear, but worse. It caught a flap of my skin under its claw, yanked down, and tore. It hung off for some time and I think we tried to put it back on, but my whole hand swelled twice its size, and the skin turned black and smelled of rot. How is that, for poetry?” 

“It is pretty now,” Maglor says, tracing the shape of the scar, raised and pale against Fingon’s dark skin, “quite as a flower-petal, or a dew-drop. Certainly there is poetry in that.” 

Before he can think better of it he takes up Fingon’s hand, and brings it to his mouth, pressing his lips against the edges of the scar. Breathes in deeply the scent of magnolia flowers, dabbed onto Fingon’s wrists. 

Fingon’s hand jerks, ticklish. There is laughter in his voice. “What now?” 

“I study my subject, as any scholar ought,” Maglor says, “I see here your skin tastes no different, healed over.” 

“Shameless,” Fingon says, “bold as fire, cousin.” But he does not draw away, not as Maglor closes his lips around his fingers and sucks. Not even after that. 

#fingon #maglor #finglor #Helcaraxë #scars #mithrim #yes yes yes #more intimacy between these two

[melestasflight]

Asphodel

On AO3

The field upon which their last great blow against Morgoth had been turned aside was a barren expanse of sunbaked mud. Dust blew up from the cracks in the earth and whipped through the air in a thousand tiny storms; heaps of remains, of armor, of weapons, dotted the landscape, and reigning over all, the putrid Haudh-en-Nirnaeth.

Daeron had heard already of the fate of the high king of the Noldor, and he knew this wasteland had nothing for him, yet he came, unable to sever the cord of destiny around his throat. He trudged across the desolate land and each rusting trinket he passed stabbed at his heart, for it seemed to him that the fate of Middle-earth was now written, and no hope remained to them.

Because there was nothing to find, there was nowhere to stop; he only came as close as he dared to the Hill and sank down onto his knees, the gritty breeze stinging his dark cheeks. Had it been here, he wondered? Was this his resting place? It might as well have been.

Daeron had never seen a skull split with a single blow, but his imagination worked wonders in this regard: of splintered bones and rent muscles and ruptured organs, of blood pouring forth onto thirsty soil, of the obliteration of a person.

Daeron bent forward until his forehead touched the desecrated ground and a low moan trailed from his throat; he tried to subordinate these thoughts to the memory of Fingon as he had been at the Mereth Aderthad, how he had allowed Daeron to coax smiles and laughter from a heart wearied of tragedy, but he could not do it. The only other thing on which his mind would focus was his own desperate pleading just before battle: at the edge of the woods he had relinquished any remaining shreds of dignity to grasp at Fingon’s doublet, begging him to forget it, to forget his kingship and his kin and Morgoth most of all, and come into the wood with Daeron, and leave the rest behind.

In a tiny pocket Daeron had sewn inside his tunic, over the left side of his breast, was a loop of wavy black hair which Fingon had given him when he said goodbye in favor of his duty. This Daeron could still remember: How Fingon had smiled when he pressed it into Daeron’s hand, assuring him that all would be well, and when they met again, it would be under a sun which shone not upon the Enemy, and then Fingon would take Daeron to Hithlum that he might partake in the grand celebrations of the Noldor.

Seeing that Fingon could not be turned from his course, Daeron had said no more of it, and allowed Fingon to make his promises and embrace him that he might go to his end at least assured of Daeron’s affections. Now was come the shadow Daeron had foreseen, and there was nothing left over which he might mourn; there was not even a suggestion of the final resting place of Fingon Fingolfinion, prince from across the great wide sea. Once again, Daeron found himself merely tangential to another’s tale, sitting in the ruins of all that had been at the start of the tale and now was no more.

Sitting back on his heels, Daeron turned his face up to the sky, and his tears ran back into his braids.

“What I have done to make you so despise me, I repent of it,” he said to the merciless sky. “I would that you might tell me my proper penance, for I cannot bear this endless sorrow. You made me not with such strength to endure.”

The battlefield was silent; not even the buzzards lingered there.

There was nothing for Daeron in the Anfauglith, it was true: but it was the last place he had hoped to find something. In absence of meaning, of purpose, of comfort, he tore a strip of one of the banners of the Noldor, and told himself it had been the one Fingon had carried, and tucked the scrap into his pocket with the hair.

Where Daeron went when he drifted from Anfauglith none could say, for he vanished then into complete obscurity and the tales tell no more of the loremaster of Doriath and his silent flute, nor does his name cross the memorials of Fingon son of Fingolfin, the shortest-reigning of the high kings of the Noldor.

#fingon #daeron #WHAT IS THIS!!!!!! #ahhhhhhh #screaming #fingon x daeron #this is incredible #feeding me my own angst medicine #yes thank you very much #major fic rec #bookmark the hell out of this

[melestasflight]

originally this was pretty nice,but for some reason the app deleted like four capes of the drawing😩... So,this is what remains,and I doesnt have any intention of finished it😔👋.

Anyways here's Mae and Finno after a party in Tirion,in the good times.

Bonos mini comic

#I love this chest reveal #seriously so accurate for them #silmarillion #tolkien art #maedhros #fingon #russingon #feanor

[melestasflight]

@thelegolashairappreciationclub you're so correct on all accounts!

#show him cool bugs #bring him Orc heads #he'll love you for it all #this checks out so hard #fingon

[melestasflight]

NEW DRAWING! but this time is High King of the Noldor Fingon.🦅🏹

#love him to death #fingon #tolkien #silmarillion

[melestasflight]

Prompt: In a spring mood!! Put a flower in the comments or ask box and I’ll write about where it grows in Beleriand, and its symbology and usage!

First set of flowers!! I’ll get to the others as soon as I can over the next few days and weeks!

Daisies requested by @senalishia, clover requested by @carinatae! I put these two together because they’re widespread flowers growing in open spaces

Daisies grow throughout Beleriand in open spaces including Estolad, Himlad, Ard Galen, the Talath Dirnen, the open spaces of Dor-lómin, and the open places south of Gondolin.

Though they are not the primary element on heraldic devices, they often appear in borders and as smaller elements including in some Noldorin families in Estolad.

Daisies are used as garnishes by the people of Marach. Hadorian children are often given crowns of daisies during the summer festivals and daisies appear on blankets, aprons and dresses. Dyers woad is used for the yellow parts.

Daisies have astringent properties and have been used by both elven and human cultures in Hithlum for minor cuts and insect bites.

(I thought a lot about Aerin while writing this post but I’ll spare you that ramble)

Clover

Many species of clover grow throughout Beleriand including white clover in most open areas except Dorthonion, the Gap and other northern regions. Red and meadow clover grows in northern Beleriand including parts of Dorthonion, the March of Maedhros, the Gap and Ard Galen.

It is used as a fodder crop by many cultures who raise horses or cows including the cavalry.

Clover is often depicted with bees of various species and elven writings on pollination have been based on observations of clover ☘️.

Clover is used to make honey by the green elves of Ossiriand and this process was later taught to various human groups.

#the silmarillion #the children of húrin #Hithlum #beleriand #dor lómin #Estolad #musing and meta

[melestasflight]

Tolkien started rewriting the Hobbit in the style of LotR, but what I really want is the Silmarillion in the style of the Hobbit. 

#silmarillion #the hobbit #this is incredible #tolkien

[melestasflight]

Actually the root of Finrod and Turgon’s friendship is their shared love for botany.

#i will get behind this #they learned from grandma indis #Turgon #Finrod #silmarillion

[melestasflight]

Throwback Thursday

summoned by the lovely @sallysavestheday. Here's a throwback to Elrond the poet, Elrond the besotted, Elrond who comes home, at last.

On this day, a day he had not dared dream in his long winter, Elrond finds himself in Celebrían’s home. She had not waited for him upon the docks of Tol Eressëa with Elwing, nor welcomed him with fresh bread and sweet water beside Idril. He stands now in Celebrían’s small house, a green-roofed cabin between the trunks of ancient trees. All windows and doors are open wide as if inviting any beast of the wood to dwell as a guest here. There are few things but the house does not feel empty. A neatly folded piece of paper sits on the small table in the only room. It is for him, Elrond knows. Winters and summers Will come and go but      You will come to me. The world shall change And the roads curve but      You will come to me. None shall remember The people we were but      You will come to me. Tho Tilion descends With Arien from the skies      You will come to me. His hands shake by the time he reads the last verse. And when he looks up from the paper, she stands there watching him, renewed and more beautiful than in any of Elrond’s memories. I have no poem for you, he wants to say but does not dare speak, afraid that he shall shatter this moment and never regain it again. ‘I knew you would come to me,’ his beloved says and spreads her arms wide. Elrond lets his heart open and be slowly filled with wonder and delight as he steps forward to fall into Celebrían’s embrace. They do not need words for this.

For more Celrond poetry: filled with wonder and delight

@polutrope @elentarial @eilinelsghost if you'd like, give a snippet of something that's been standing on the shelves

#throwback thursday #elrond #celebrian #celrond #lord of the rings #poetry #tag game

[melestasflight]

Throwback Thursday!

I've been in a Maglor mood this week, so here's a little one-two tragedy-comedy punch of him from September 2022.

From 4'33":

His great works are lost to him, after the fall, after his long, dreamlike submersion. For what felt an endless time, he floated like waterweed at Ossë’s whim, his body just one more strange calcified structure in Uinen’s halls. But the sea spat him out, eventually, the cool depths fundamentally unwelcoming to one who has touched fire.

And the B side (Avant Garde):

“I’m here, if here is anywhere, really.” Makalaurë is puddled on the floor in a shadowy alcove off the main walkway, blinking miserably up at Findaráto from within a welter of scarlet robes. His jeweled circlet is askew, and his braids have begun to unravel. The smoky eyes he affects for triumphant premieres have made their way damply down to his chin, and he reeks of 100-proof despair.

Something for everyone! Enjoy :)

@a-tehta @thescrapwitch @starspray @melestasflight @tilion-writes feel like sharing something from your dustier old parchment piles? Show a little love for those fics that are old.

#throwback thursday #maglor #fic recs

[melestasflight]

WIP Whatever Day

thanks for the tag @thelordofgifs we're clawing our way back through the ongoing Thing

When the heavy doors finally close behind them, there are no words. They do not speak, they do not move, eyes only fixed at each other. The music from the reception hall can still be heard distantly, its merry notes finding their way between the stone hallways of Barad Eithel and bouncing from wall to wall all the way to the king’s chambers. The king has no thought for the music, no mind for anything at all other than the elf who now stands before him. It is somewhat bizarre to see Maedhros like this, here. The years are not so long since they last saw one another, yet so much has changed, things that they held true for centuries are now uprooted from the depths of the earth, never to be the same again no matter how great the labor in replanting them and growing them anew.

@sallysavestheday @queerofthedagger @dalliansss care to share what you're up to?

#fingon #maedhros #wips #we're invested in this one #it's eating our soul precious #in every way

[melestasflight]

Please read Kaleidoscope it is very, very good

Vote for Fingon/Celegorm

This is propaganda for Fingon/Celegorm in @melestasflight's Best Fingon Ship (No Russingon) poll.

Why you should vote for this ship? It can offer so much! They are similar, yet different. They can be Rivals to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Cousins with Benefits. They can have Hate Sex.

If you need a more convincing argument, here is the Celegorm/Fingon part from my Fingon/Sons of Fëanor fic (M-rated) under the cut. We can have more if the ship wins the poll ;)

Since childhood, Celegorm has been at odds with Fingon. Every little disagreement was a reason for a squabble. Every squabble a reason for a shouting match. Every shouting match a reason for a fistfight. No one else has given Fingon as many bruised eyes, cut lips and head bumps as his fair cousin. Celegorm won't admit it, but the same is true for him.

Not much has changed since then. Only the fight is in the bedroom now.

Sometimes it's playful - grappling, nibbling, tickling, Celegorm - beautiful, striking Celegorm - laughing loudly and freely. 

Sometimes their competitive spirit rears its head, and they wrestle, stubborn hands pushing, sweat-soaked bodies sliding against each other, Celegorm's smile like the Moon's silver crescent as he pins Fingon under the weight of his body, Celegorm's smile like the poisoned knife strapped to his thigh as Fingon tackles him and grasps his wrists. 

Sometimes, especially when Fingon comes to Celegorm after fucking Curufin, their fight turns nasty - grabbing, biting, slapping, scratching, driving into barely prepared bodies, Celegorm - Fingon's oldest rival, Fingon's first kiss - spitting the most hateful words to Fingon's face and laughing - bitter, poisonous - as Fingon replies in kind. 

The last time Fingon sees Celegorm, he smiles his mocking, challenging, you-are-not-better-than-me smile. Fingon punches him and receives no answer.

#silmarillion #fingon #celegorm #celegorm/fingon #fic recs

[melestasflight]

I may write the winning ship, let's see how this goes

#fingon #fingon ships #if I include Maedhros y'all will be extremely boring #let's make this hard #most of these are very gay #I'm sorry my brain is just like that #I may write the winning ship #polls #silmarillion

[melestasflight]

Fingon does not play often anymore. Rarely does the mood strike him, and mostly when he is alone, his heart is sorrowful. But at the Mereth Aderthad some merriness of the crowd strikes him, some warmth of the liquor, and he picks up the harp and plays, unthinking, a drinking-song from bygone days. Around him elves laugh and dance, an ocean of swirling silk, and he hears little his own music. 

“You have lost the touch,” Maglor says, “you were better.” 

Fingon looks down at the joints of his fingers, where feeling has not returned since the ice, and says naught. 

#aaaaaaa what is this??? 😭😭😭 #im slain #fingon #maglor #shut your mouth maglor! #Helcaraxë

[melestasflight]

And to be clear, in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a feanorian fan, specifically a Maedhros fan, but it’s startling to me how quick a lot of his fans are to excuse his actions. They aren’t excusable. MAYBE Alqualonde can be attributed to to naïveté, but he knew what he was doing in doriath and in the sirions, “he was in despair” no shit! That’s the point! He lost hope and began directing his oath toward his kin instead of Morgoth, it’s tragic and awful. He does deeds of surpassing valor and downward spirals into deeds of horrific evil. I’ve said this before with almost every male character I’ve ever liked: if you’re going to like a character, LIKE THE CHARACTWR! Don’t change the character around to become a more acceptable or palatable character that bares no resemblance to the ACTUAL character. By the end of the silm, Maedhros is a monster. A tragic one? Yes. A sympathetic one? I think so. But he’s a monster, and he tormented Elwing and he is responsible for her brothers deaths and her fathers death and the deaths of those at Alqualonde, I don’t think you have to ignore that in order to like this character

#silmarillion #maedhros #important! #regaining hope in this fandom as of late

[melestasflight]

Indis appreciation post!

Disclaimer: All the canon info is taken from Morgoth's Ring and Peoples of Middle Earth. Also, this isn't a character analysis/meta. It's just a list of stuff I love (plus some headcanons) about one of my favorite characters in the legendarium.

1. She's athletic and outdoorsy. We're told that Indis is "exceedingly swift of foot" and that "she walked often alone in the fields and friths of the Valar, turning her thought to things that grow untended." When Finwe sees her, she's chilling on a mountainside. I love that she's associated with nature, specifically the wilderness. She parallels Feanor in her exploration of Aman and interest in the imperfect. Also, this is purely self-indulgent but ever since reading HoME for the first time, I've pictured Indis as tall and broad, and muscular beneath a layer of fat.

2. She doesn't let her unrequited love affect her life. "There was ever light and mirth about her." She's not the pining, languishing princess stereotype. She goes on. She doesn't let it make her bitter or depressed, and she is so restrained that only Mandos and possibly Ingwe are aware of her feelings.

3. Part of her attraction to Finwe is intellectual. In HoME we're told that his "mastery of words delighted her." Considering that Indis is also a poet/composer ("wove words into song") and that the Vanyar enjoy linguistics, it makes sense. It's also just really cute.

4. She's politically minded. Her reasoning for pronouncing 's' instead of 'th' is: "I have joined the Noldor, and I will speak as they do." This is the right thing to do to gain the respect of the Noldor and their acceptance of her authority. I also think she makes a statement with Fingolfin and Finarfin's mother-names. Arakano ("high chieftain") and Ingoldo ("the Noldo, eminent among the kindred") are not only powerful, prophetic names, they're also strikingly similar to Ingwe ("chief of chieftains") who is the High King not just of the Vanyar, but all Eldar. What a power move.

5. She's able to balance her own culture with the culture she marries into. Indis integrates into Noldorin society easily while remaining Vanyarin at her core, as is evidenced by Finwe saying that "above all her heart now yearns for the halls of Ingwe and the peace of the Vanyar." Her sons also respect and are proud of their mixed heritage; Finarfin "loved the Vanyar, his mother's people" and is said to be like them (as are Finrod and Galadriel), and Fingolfin's daughter-in-law is Vanyarin (plus the Nolofinweans have a special connection to Manwe).

6. She gets an awesome prophecy about her line. "But I say unto you that the children of Indis shall also be great, and the Tale of Arda more glorious because of their coming. And from them shall spring things so fair that no tears shall dim their beauty; in whose being the Valar, and the Kindreds both of Elves and of Men that are to come shall all have part, and in whose deeds they shall rejoice. So that, long hence when all that here is, and seemeth yet fair and impregnable, shall nonetheless have faded and passed away, the Light of Aman shall not wholly cease among the free peoples of Arda until the end." Fuck yeah.

7. Her name means "valiant woman." This is the only definition given in Morgoth's Ring, I believe. I highly prefer it over the "bride" meaning because it's a badass name and is similar to Artanis ("noble woman") and Astaldo ("the valiant"). A headcanon that I'm particularly attached to is that Indis's mother-name is Indome, meaning "will of Eru."

8. She's popular with most of the Noldor. We're told that "Finwe, King of the Noldor, wedded Indis, sister of Ingwe; and the Vanyar and Noldor for the most part rejoiced." The majority of the Noldor also follow Fingolfin and Finarfin instead of Feanor.

9. She's friends with Nerdanel. HoME states that Nerdanel went to "abide with Indis, whom she had ever esteemed."

10. She gets pissed off at Finwe when he sides with Feanor. So much so that he thinks she won't want to see him if he's re-embodied. I know this is from his perspective but I'm inclined to agree. [However, this is still very presumptive of him, and his comment that "Indis parted from me without death" is super shitty. Eugh.]

11. She's close to her kids. Finarfin takes after her, Fingolfin passes on the name she gave him, Findis lives with her, Lalwen goes by the name she gave her. Finwe also says that "she hath dear children to comfort her."

So there we have it! What little info we get about Indis is pretty awesome. And this is just a list; I could write a whole essay on her fortitude and unconventionality and my numerous headcanons about her.

#extremely important #indis #indis of the vanyar #silmarillion #Tolkien

[melestasflight]

Dweller of Nan Elmoth

Eöl

#eol #fantastic character design #sindar with tattoos yes!!! #nan elmoth