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middle-earth-mythopoeia · 2 years

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Tolkien and long hair: what do the books say?

Any time Tolkien describes the length of Elves’ hair, it’s always said to be long:

- Glorfindel: ‘His golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed’ (FOTR - Amroth: ‘The wind was in his flowing hair’ (FOTR) - Celeborn: ‘The hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright’ (FOTR) - Elves even made bowstrings from their hair: ‘A bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair’ (FOTR) - Celegorm: ‘Golden was his long hair’ (The Lays of Beleriand) - The Elves of Valinor: ‘With their gleaming hair in the wind flying’ (The Lays of Beleriand); ‘There blowing free unbraided hair is meshed with beams of Moon and Sun’ (The Lost Road) - The Teleri: ‘With their long hair gleaming like foam’ (Morgoth’s Ring) - Olwë: ‘The hair of Olwë was long and white’ (Morgoth’s Ring) - Thingol: ‘Elwë himself had long and beautiful hair of silver hue’ (The War of the Jewels) - Fingon: ‘He wore his long dark hair in great plaits braided with gold’ (The Shibboleth of Fëanor) - And then there’s this quote which implies that long hair was seen as desirable among the Elves: ‘All the Eldar had beautiful hair (and were especially attracted by hair of exceptional loveliness), but the Noldor were not specially remarkable in this respect, and there is no reference to Finwë as having had hair of exceptional length, abundance, or beauty beyond the measure of his people’ (The Shibboleth of Fëanor)

But it’s not just Elves—Men are also described as having long hair:

- Aragorn: ‘He threw back his hood, showing a shaggy head of dark hair flecked with grey’; ‘His hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing in the wind’ (FOTR) - The Witch-king of Angmar: ‘His hair was long and gleaming’ (FOTR); in an earlier draft of the scene, Tolkien wrote that all the Ringwraiths had long hair: ‘Upon their long grey hair were crowns and helms of pale gold’ - Boromir: ‘They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders’ (TTT) - The Rohirrim: ‘Their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them’; ‘Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?’; ‘Their golden hair was braided on their shoulders’ (TTT) - Eorl the Young: ‘His yellow hair was flying in the wind’ (TTT) - Théoden: ‘His white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids’ (TTT); ‘The hair that flowed beneath his high helm was like snow’ (ROTK) - Men from the South: ‘They have black eyes, and long black hair’; ‘His black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood’ (TTT) - Faramir and Éowyn: ‘And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air’ (ROTK); this would only be possible if Faramir also had long hair - Túrin: ‘For his garb was of the wild woods and his hair was long’ (The Book of Lost Tales)

What about Maiar?

- Gandalf is described as follows: ‘His long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient legend’ (FOTR); ‘His snowy hair flew free in the wind’ (TTT) - Even the Balrog is described as having long hair: ‘Its streaming hair seemed to catch fire, and the sword that it held turned to flame’ (The Return of the Shadow)

Interestingly, I only found a few instances of characters cutting their hair short, and all of them are women:

- Lúthien cuts her hair in The Silmarillion, although it does not say how short, but in The Lays of Beleriand, it says she ‘cut the hair about her ears, and close she cropped it to her head’ - Vána cuts her hair too in The Book of Lost Tales: ‘There follows an account of how Vána...cut short her golden hair and gave it to the Gods, and from her hair they wove sails and ropes’ - In The War of the Ring, Éowyn is described with shorn hair when she goes to war, although this was changed in the final version of ROTK: ‘In the passage that follows, Éowyn’s hair is described as shorn upon her neck’

In conclusion, long hair is clearly the norm in Tolkien’s books. No Elf is ever described as having short hair apart from Lúthien, and no mortal is ever described as having short hair except for Éowyn in the rejected draft. If anyone should have short hair, it’s certain female characters, not male Elves. Fight me!

#tolkien #silmarillion #lotr #my writing #long hair #yes I did in fact do a word search for ''hair'' in a digital copy of LOTR #and looked at all the iterations of it #and then I did a word seach for ''hair'' in a digital copy of all the volumes of HoMe... and there were over 400 mentions #and I looked at all of them #fuck Amazon #and their stupid modern gender-normative aesthetics

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cilil · 3 months

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Headcanons: The Day of Love

I felt spontaneously inspired to write down my headcanons (yes, I've thought of this before a few times) for Valentine's Day in Valinor, or, as it's known there, the Day of Love, featuring both Ainur and Elves. Enjoy!

♡ The establishment of a dedicated holiday to celebrate couples and other forms of love and companionship was, as certain people (*cough* Melkor) would snidely remark in later ages, most likely inevitable due to Manwë being a hopeless romantic and Irmo's penchant for playing matchmaker (and subsequently winning bets he made with his wife and siblings).

♡ After Tulkas and Nessa were wed - within the circles of Arda, unlike the other Valar who espoused their partners earlier - Manwë was inspired to take action and create this holiday, as everyone had greatly enjoyed the festivities and many wished to have the opportunity to express their affection for their loved ones in a similar manner, without the pomp of a wedding.

♡ It was decided that the Day of Love would be in spring, as per Vána's suggestion. To this day, there's still some debate among the inhabitants of Valinor whether she simply thought the season was appropriate or whether she was making a thinly veiled mating season joke; the Ever-young, however, has declined to comment on this. It takes place in the month of Súlimë (March), much to the delight of Manwë, usually within the third week since this is (roughly) the beginning of the season, as determined by Yavanna and Vána.

♡ Over the ages, various traditions evolved. Among the first and most notable to this day is Manwë's poetry soirée, where everyone is invited to share their romantic poems and other writings - a special iteration of his regular writing group get-togethers that strives to be as inclusive and affirming as possible. Ever since the first Day of Love was celebrated, Manwë has written a new poem for his beloved queen every single year, and Varda shows her appreciation with breath-taking meteor showers. The event has naturally become important to the Vanyar in particular, especially those who are regulars among Manwë's fellow poetry enjoyers.

♡ Irmo and Estë take great pleasure in hosting a "casual tea time feast" (as described by the Lord of Lórien himself) that welcomes not only couples or friend groups, but also explicitly those who feel lonely on such a day and would like some easy company. While Estë and her Maiar serve herbal teas for health and good spirits and bake lots of delicious cakes and other treats, Irmo prepares his (in)famous punch which so far has never failed to get a party going and distributes special "love candy" that has also come under scrutiny a few times, but is still consumed with great delight by those who dare.

♡ Aside from (more or less) innocent tea party shenanigans, Irmo is wide awake on the Day of Love for different reasons as well, mutating into the kind of entity we know as Cupid. The use of arrows has been forbidden, but that does little to stop the Lord of Dreams and Desire from making his OTPs come true by providing a little bit of "assistance". He gleefully plants courage and inspiration into the hearts and minds of Ainur and Elves alike, so that they may finally confess those feelings they have been carrying around for too long. It has been alleged that he has attempted to play bingo with his brother in regards to these things coming to pass, yet nothing could be proven and Námo, as usual, was silent.

♡ Oromë, being in good spirits as hunting season is drawing near, likes to host a special hunting events where couples (and throuples and so on, naturally) can either compete against each other or team up to hunt and see if their love is strong enough to catch even the greatest prey. While it's all in good fun and the competitive side isn't taken seriously, Oromë and his people do hold the belief that the ability to work together and cooperate, as well as engaging in friendly, playful competitions without hostility or ill will, are important parts of a relationship of any kind and thus can be a good test for couples looking to get married in particular. It is also worth noting that the hunting duels of Aredhel and Celegorm have become particularly infamous and are to this day lauded as a great example.

♡ Tulkas, as always, is looking for a fun little fight and a good laugh, and those sharing his passion are welcome in his mansion for a special kind of celebration. Many Elves and Ainur alike seek to prove themselves in battle against their peers to win the affection and admiration of whoever they wish to court, as well as engage in friendly duels with their friends and loved ones. Making sure that everything is as fair as it can be, Tulkas presides over these fights with glowing pride and invites all participants to attend a great feast after.

♡ Said feast is usually coupled with a special performance by Nessa and her Maiar, as well as others who wish to join them, and afterwards everyone is invited to dance with their partners. It is not unusual for non-martially-inclined couples to spend their day elsewhere but attend Nessa's dance party in the evening, and oftentimes the lord and lady can also be seen on the dance floor together.

♡ For Yavanna and Vána, the Day of Love is yet another instance of their boundless generosity. The two Valier share their gifts and boons freely, providing flowers, fruits and materials for the crafting of presents; sometimes even advice to those who seek it. Year after year, their husbands show their gratitude - as well as vicariously for the rest of Valinor - by crafting and hunting special gifts for them, and it is said that the trees and flowers bloom even more beautifully on that day to celebrate their ladies' joy.

♡ Among the Elves, traditions are varied as well. Particularly famous is the pearl-diving of the Teleri, a test of both courage and skill where young and old lovers alike venture out into the sea and seek to find the most beautiful pearls to bring home to their partners. Ulmo gives his blessings freely to all who attempt such a feat and, together with his Maiar, makes sure that everyone returns home safely; over the years, many a daring Elf had to be fished out of more perilous waters. These pearls - and other treasures that were found - are particularly precious to the Teleri and objects crafted from or with them may even become family heirlooms.

♡ The Noldor, together with Aulë, Vairë and their Maiar, spend a lot of time before the Day of Love crafting wonderful gifts for their loved ones. These creations are a matter of great pride and may hold a lot of different, intricate meanings, often being a key component in courtship. Aside from all sorts of trinkets, couples are often seen exchanging promise jewelry. A particularly noteworthy occurrence over the years was the unveiling of a great Fëanor statue, made by none other than Nerdanel during their courtship, and to this day spectators claim that they have never seen Fëanor this speechless before or after.

♡ The Vanyar, aside from attending the festivities in Ilmarin, are also fond of music and love to sing or otherwise perform for their loved ones. Such performances are often done with special costumes and instruments, and the gifting of instruments is regarded as something especially intimate and meaningful. Those among the Maiar of Manwë and Varda who are not too fond of poetry like to join the Vanyar instead, offering their own songs and arts as entertainment. Eönwë and other avian Ainur are regularly asked for their feathers and even grow special plumage to accommodate these requests.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to take inspiration from these (though as always a little shout-out is appreciated if you create your own stuff based on this post ♡).

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annab99awritersdream · 2 months

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Maiar in 'The Lady of Ithilien'

(to be updated with new information as the story progresses. As such, things may change)

Eönwë

Herald and banner-bearer of Manwë, the High King of Arda. He's among the most powerful Maiar in Valinor and the mightiest in arms. Military leader and High Commander of the Host of the Valar, he was one of the key fighters during the War of Wrath, which marked the end of the First Age of the Sun.

Birth: he entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Married to Elenna of the House of Húrin.

Fancast: Daniel Sharman

Ilmarë

Eönwë's younger sister and handmaiden of Varda, Queen of the Valar and Manwë's wife. Along with her brother, she's one of the chiefs of the Maiar.

Birth: she entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Eventually married to Eldarion, Crown Prince of Gondor and Arnor.

Fancast: Matilda Lutz

Olórin

Also known as Gandalf (one of his many aliases), he has served several Valar throughout the various ages of Arda. He's mainly associated with Manwë and Varda, but he also served Nienna, Valië of sorrow and compassion and Irmo, Vala of dreams and visions. (Olórin is a Quenya name and its meaning is something along the lines of "dream of mind")

Birth: he entered Arda shortly after it was created.

Fancast: Sir Ian McKellen (as Gandalf during the War of the Ring. He sticks to this form for a little while longer before switching back to his usual one); Bradley James (as Olórin)

(they give the same vibe tbh)

Wilwarin

Maia serving Irmo and occasionally Nienna. She's had a major crush on Olórin ever since she met him. She's not the sharpest tool in the box (sorry girl, I still love you), but she's kind-hearted and keeps to herself because no one wants to befriend her due to her perceived stupidity. SHE NEEDS LOVE AND AFFECTION, which no one has ever given her because most Maiar are stuck up and arrogant. Extremely naïve and completely clueless at times, she's been nicknamed "Wilya" (meaning airhead) by her fellow Maiar. She's obsessed with Olórin because he's the only one who's ever actually interacted with her.

Birth: She entered Arda at the beginning of the Second Age of the Sun, following the War of Wrath.

Fancast: Tuğba Melis Türk

Isilmë

Maia of Vayanna. Considered among the most beautiful Maiarin women to ever enter Arda, she has been obsessed with Eönwë ever since she first saw him. They had a brief fling following the War of Wrath, which, needless to say, ended very quickly (and badly). She's firmly convinced he's still in love with her and will do anything to get him back. Her name is Quenya for "moonlight".

Birth: she entered Arda following the War of Wrath (around the same time as Wilwarin)

Fancast: Beste Kökdemir

Isilya

Maia of Yavanna. She's Isilmë's close friend (or so she believes). She fails to realize Isilmë doesn't really love her or value their friendship, but simply uses her for her own purposes. She blindly follows her "friend" and indistinctly agrees with everything the latter says or does, as she's been brainwashed into thinking she's perfect. She doesn't seem to have a mind of her own, modeling her own behavior after Isilmë, as she's afraid to lose the connection they share. She's petty and very annoying, but not inherently evil and might even redeem herself eventually. Who knows. Her name is Quenya for "the third day of the week" according to the Númenórean calendar.

(It might sound odd, but I picked the name purely because it sounds similar to Isilmë and because I like the sound of it, not necessarily because I had a specific idea. I'm terrible at naming characters, I know. Please don't be mean)

Birth: she entered Arda following the War of Wrath.

Fancast: Dilara Aksüyek

Elenna's household

Four Maiarin ladies enter her service after her marriage to the Herald.

Handalimë

Originally a Maia of Vána, she is thoughtful, level-headed, smart and highly practical. Elenna is entrusted to her and she quickly grows fond of her new lady, becoming one of her most trusted servants and her main confidante. She's usually calm and collected and makes it her mission to protect her lady from anyone who might wish her harm—namely her sister Isilmë and a few of the Noldorin elves— and constantly worries about her. Her lady's well-being is her utmost priority.

Birth: she entered Arda sometime before the end of the First Age.

Fancast: Gülcan Arslan

Narael

A Maia of Aulë, she's spunky and crafty but also naive and shy. She loves making rings and necklaces and will be gifting many jewels to her new lady. She can often be found chatting with Gimli, as she's never seen a dwarf before and wants to know all about dwarf customs and traditions (for fairly obvious reasons, I'd say). Kind-hearted and wiser than she lets on, she loves sitting by fireplaces (and lighting them).

Birth: she entered Arda at the beginning of the Third Age.

Fancast: Sophie Turner

Aranwen

A Maia of Nessa, she loves dancing, nature and poetry. She's not a great conversationalist, but when she does speak, one had better stop and listen. She loves reading and will spend many hours discussing books and history with her lady. She enjoys needlework and she's quite a good painter as well. She respects Elena greatly and often reassures her. Even though they get on each other's nerves quite often, she's great friends with Naráel. She too will spend a bit of time with Gimli, but only to try and convince him that ripping down trees is inherently bad. Nevertheless, she grows fond of the lord of the Glittering Caves- she and Legolas will try and teach him how to dance. Whether they will succeed is still unknown.

Birth: she entered Arda at the beginning of the Third Age.

Fancast: Rose Williams

Elenya

Maia of Varda (the name is kind of a giveaway).

She's sweet, kind and very protective of Elenna. She often likes to remark how similar their names are and loves to recount stories that most have forgotten (star-related, of course). She was lady-in-waiting to Ilmarë before she volunteered to join Elenna's household.

Birth: she entered Arda during the Years of the Trees.

Fancast: Yasemin Allen

#maiarofmiddleearth #theladyofithilien #ao3 writer #ainur #maiar #valar

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 11 days

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Abominations of the flesh

Day 5 Prompt: New companions

For: @feast-of-horns | Requested by MoonLord

Rating: E

Pairing: Celegorm/Curufin/Turgon/Finrod

Themes: NSFW | NSFT

Warnings: Kissing | Incest | Celegorm and Curufin are up to no good

Wordcount: 3.2k words

Summary: Celegorm and Curufin are convinced there is something more than friendship between Turgon and Finrod. Turgon and Finrod think otherwise. Their cousins are determined to show them there is more to their bond than they think.

Minors DNI | 18+

A/n: A big thank you to @cilil and @urwendii for their help with Turgon's pre-Alqualondë personality and the idea that inspired this fic.

This is also available on AO3

The feast was a riotous affair. Many ate and drank their fill. A few ate and drank more than they ought to. Some sang bawdy airs. Others laughed. Many and more prepared themselves for the chase that was to follow. Turukáno was scandalized as he observed everything taking place around him.

“Do all of the Valar conduct themselves in such a debauched manner during these feasts?” He whispered to his cousin in disbelief.

“Not just the Valar, cousin.” Findaráto was as taken aback as he was, but his curiosity remained undiminished. “The Maiar and their attendants, and even our fellow elves.”

Turukáno, his cheeks aflame, touched the crown sitting amidst his hair. Gold horns inlaid with brilliant white enamel gleamed as they rose from a thin gold band full of diamonds. A hunter’s crown, it was, and it was only proper, the others had said, for a high prince of the Noldor to take on the role of a hunter.

I should not have agreed to this, he thought when he found himself yearning for the comfort of Tirion’s great library and the fragrance from its many tomes and stone tablets. I do not belong here. I should have remained in Tirion.

He glanced at the others. His sister, Írissë, stayed close to the Great Huntsman and his lady, whispering. Oromë was in a high mood, as was Lady Vána. The Ever-Young was particularly taken with his sister, and on more than one occasion, she uttered something that made Írissë laugh.

“My sister is by herself,” he said, and he drained the last of his wine. “I must see to her.”

When he tried to rise, Findaráto grabbed his arm by the wrist. “Leave your sister be.”

“I must tend to her.”

“Chicks and elflings need tending, cousin. Your sister, on the other hand, does not. Leave Írri be. You will only draw unwelcome attention to yourself and to me if you do not.”

Turukáno scoffed softly, but he heeded his cousin all the same. He made himself comfortable in his seat and called for more wine. Someone laughed. It was thunderous and carefree at the same time. That laugh came from none other than Tyelkormo. Turukáno dared to look his way. His uncle Fëanáro’s sons were seated at the same table, though not all of them lingered after their plates and goblets were taken away. Nelyafinwë rose to speak with Findekáno, and Makalaurë took his leave of his brothers when Laurefindelë invited him to join him and his companions. Morifinwë kept to himself, brooding as always, and the twins teased each other over their choice of adornments. Then his gaze cut back to Tyelkormo. His cousin had been studying him with a shrewd leer while his brother, Curufinwë, whispered something in his ear.

“Pray what happens now?” Turukáno—flustered—asked when Tyelkormo winked at him and looked away.

“Now we must make our way to the gathering field,” Findaráto replied, rising with the others. Lady Vána arose from her place on the dais, to fetch the Valaróma for her lord husband. “It is time for the chase.”

The chase was as rowdy as the feast, if not more so. Turukáno and Findaráto were hunters; the latter’s circlet of silver horns glinted amidst his golden hair. Findaráto took part because his curiosity would not let him be at peace. Turukáno took part because his kinsman and dear friend convinced him to, and he was not one to go back on his word after he had given it to someone he treasured. Oromë sounded the Valaróma once, and hunters silently chose their prey even as they raced into the forest. Moments passed, and the air around them thickened, feeding the anticipation that had been building since the feast began.

“Hunters!” Oromë's cry boomed across the field, startling the nearby horses and compelling the great hounds he bred to stand to attention. “Are you ready?

The roar that followed echoed through the gathering field. Then the Valaróma sounded a second time, and the hunters gave chase. Turukáno caught brief glimpses of many of those who ran alongside him. A few others he saw quite clearly. Varda’s handmaiden ran down a twisting path away from them, her robes a swirl of indigo wisps, her starlit skin and pink and molten silver hair shimmering in the starlight. He heard a sharp gasp, then a lusty laugh. He stopped for a moment to look. Ilmarë was ensnared by none other than the Elder King himself. She squirmed and giggled in his arms while he cooed barely heard words of endearment to her. His queen emerged from a thicket of trees, her dark hair falling around her like a waterfall full of little stars. They embraced each other. Turukáno turned to his cousin, dumbfounded.

“As long as there is no cleaving of the spirit, no ill-will ensues.” Findaráto grasped his hand and led him away. “Come. There is a clearing not far ahead.”

The clearing was full of flowers and new grass and large rocks thick with moss, and little else. No one could be seen. The others preferred the trees and forest floors covered with soft leaves over the open field. Turukáno made himself comfortable on a moss-covered stone and looked at the stars. His cousin sat by his side on the grass.

Turukáno said, “Do you remember the times we made our way to the highest balcony in grandfather’s palace?”

Findaráto looked at him, smiling. “We would sneak into the kitchens first and fill a basket with little cakes and sweets. Then we made our way to that balcony and tried to name all the stars. The one who could name the most stars won the right to eat most of the cakes.”

His cousin’s reply was interrupted by another who found them. “Well, well. What do I see before me?”

The voice that called to them was thunderous and carefree at the same time. They rose to face their intruder, an elf that was well known to them. Tyelkormo stood by the edge of the clearing, garbed only in hunting leathers, with horns of bone and ivory adorning his silver-gold hair and ears and waist and wrists. He held a length of silvery rope weighed down at both ends with smooth, stone balls in his hand. He had another length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. Findaráto swore his cousin looked very much like one of the Valar on the hunt—glorious, savage, and otherworldly at the same time. Then he chided himself for even thinking such a blasphemous thought. His cousin was but an elf, and nothing more than that.

“So this is where the two of you fled to.” The third son of Fëanáro regarded them with a sly smile spreading its way across his countenance. “And to talk of stars on a festival day such as this, when so many delights await you beyond these trees! I confess, dear cousins, that I am quite disappointed.”

“Tis not only you who is disappointed, brother mine.” Curufinwë emerged next, dragging a delicate silver net in his right hand. He too had a length of rope and a sheathed dagger at his belt. “We are here at a festival that frees us to be with whomever we desire, and these two prefer to gaze at the sky.”

“Or perhaps, stargazing is not the reason why they are truly here.” Tyelkormo’s smile was a vicious thing. His shrewd, hunter’s gaze pinned his kinsmen to where they stood like they were nothing more than moths pinned to a board. “Perhaps they came to this place because they wished to do more than just admire the heavens.”

Findaráto understood his cousin’s insinuation well enough. “You assume incorrectly, Tyelko,” he sputtered, mortified. “There is nothing untoward between Turco and myself. We are friends and kinsmen, no more, no less.”

“Nothing untoward, you say.” Curufinwë’s smile was as calculating and vicious as his brother’s, perhaps even more so. And yet, it did little to mar the finely-formed beauty he inherited from his father. “But, my dear Ingoldo, what else are we supposed to think when the two of you seek only each other for company and when one of you is always coming to the aid of the other, even when there are others more skilled at the task at hand?”

Turukáno finally understood what his cousins were implying. “Ingoldo and I have never committed abominations of the flesh!”

Tyelkormo turned to face him. “Truly?” He said. “Why do I struggle to believe it?”

“Peace, brother. Perhaps they speak the truth. Perhaps they have not violated taboos between kinsmen, and what we have observed thus far is wrong,” Curufinwë told him, his crafty eyes shining wickedly in the starlight. “Or perhaps, they do not see what we see.”

“Perhaps we should help remove the scales from their eyes.”

“Indeed, brother. Indeed.”

Their cousins each took a step back, startled. “We have taken on the roles of hunters!” Findaráto cried protest.

“There is no prohibition against a hunter chasing after another hunter,” Tyelkormo remarked with a casual air.

“And we are bound by blood!” Cried Turukáno as he prepared himself to flee. His cousin could be as determined as a wolf chasing a hare when the urge to hunt was upon him. He had to be ready to turn on his heels and run as soon as Tyelkormo made a move to come near him.

“That is of little consequence,” said Curufinwë, his knuckles white against his net. “And no one will ever know, so long as we do not talk to the others. Come, now, Turco. There is no need to be frightened. We merely wish to help; that is all.”

“We will not consent!” Turukáno snapped at him.

“Ah!” Cunning gray eyes shone again. “That is where you are mistaken, cousin,” he countered serenely. “You will consent.”

Tyelkormo loosened his hold on the rope, preparing to throw it as soon as the opportunity to do so presented itself. “Remember what I taught you, brother.”

“I will, brother.” Curufinwë had eagerly listened to all that his brother had to say, for the chase was a first for him, as was the feast. “I will remember all that you told me.”

“Good.” His brother’s voice was as stern and commanding as the Vala he served when he said, “Run.”

Turukáno took hold of Findaráto’s hand and pulled him along as they ran around the thick trunks of trees that crowded too close together, barely evading twisting, low-hanging branches and gnarled roots that protruded out of the earth. He dared to stop for a moment to look over his shoulder. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë had melted into the surrounding darkness, and nothing but darkened trees and a thin, swirling mist remained in their wake.

“We must not tarry.” Findaráto tugged gently on his cousin’s arm, urging him forward. “We cannot linger here for too long. They will find us!”

They ran again, and for how long, neither could say. They ran, and they ran, and they did not halt until they reached another clearing. There was no being to be seen. There was no being to be heard. They had gone further than they had ever gone in the forests of Oromë, and they had to stop. To keep running meant to lose their way, and that was something they could not do, not while rumors of a dark creature dwelling beyond the southern borders of the forests flourished.

“Have we lost them?” Findaráto asked and stopped near the periphery of the clearing with his back to the trees. All around them stood graceful pines, mighty oaks, and giant sentinels, their leaves and branches rustling in the wind.

“I do not know,” Turukáno said. He turned and studied the trees behind his cousin, and he saw nothing but dappled starlight flowing through the thick canopy. “There is no sight of them, at least. No sound. Perhaps we did lose—”

He was interrupted when a whirl of silver flew toward him with such force that it knocked him to the ground. Turukáno could not move his arms. The rope had entangled itself around his torso He turned to his cousin for aid, but his cousin was also writhing against the forest floor in a vain attempt to free himself from the strange silver net that had enveloped him.

“Tyelko!” He called out in anger. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tyelkormo was the first to step out from among the trees; his brother followed him. Their boots fell against the forest floor with barely a sound made.

“What do you think, cousin?” He helped Turukáno up to a seated position before going down to his haunches to bind his cousin’s legs at the ankles with the other length of rope that he had. “We are going to remove the scales from your eyes.”

Turukáno did not even deign to reply. He knew he could not fight his cousin and win. Tyelkormo may not have had his great stature, but he was as strong as him, and he was the better hunter by many a league. He stole a glimpse of his other cousin. Curufinwë bound Findaráto's hands and legs, and he brought him to where Turukáno sat, his back to an old pine tree. Turukáno could only watch while Tyelkormo rose, satisfied that they could not free themselves. His cousin moved to sit apart after that, regarding them the way he would a fine meal that was ready to be devoured.

“They make such a pretty picture together.” Curufinwë dusted his hands and moved to sit cross-legged next to his brother, to better admire the sight of their captive kinsmen.

“They do.” Tyelkormo rested his hand on the small of his brother’s back. Findaráto believed it was merely a protective gesture, and nothing more. “And they believe that there is nothing besides friendship between them. How shall we help them see, brother mine?”

“With this,” said Curufinwë, before framing his brother’s face firmly in his hands, and pulling him in for a kiss.

This is not the first time they have indulged in such acts. Turukáno watched, horrified, while Curufinwë and Tyelkormo embraced each other like experienced lovers, when Curufinwë allowed his brother to take liberties with him, when one let the other tangle his hands in his hair, and when one let the other move their hands to the clasp of a belt. He looked away—ashamed at not being able to dampen the arousal he felt growing between his thighs—then turned his attention to them once again when he heard a low moan.

They look so beautiful together. Findaráto was as stunned as Turukáno by the deviancy of their cousins. Much like Turukáno, he could not look away for long. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë painted a striking image together, all silver and jet and slender, tapered hands moving in perfect rhythm with large, sculpted ones. Tyelkormo was all heat and wildness. Curufinwë was all cool restraint. He closed his eyes and tucked his head against Tyelkormo’s shoulder when he loosened the lacings of his breeches and took his erection to hand.

“Yes. Like that,” he whispered, his hands clutching desperately at his brother’s broad back. “Ah, brother.”

They kissed each other savagely, and then Curufinwë opened his eyes. They were dark and wanton, and they settled on his cousins. Turukáno had shame and lust warring with each other in his gaze. As for Findaráto, he had something akin to thirst in his. The firstborn son of Arafinwë turned to look at his cousin, his heart fluttering at the sight of his wide, beautiful eyes, his thick, dark hair, and his fine lips.

Are Tyelko and Curvo correct? Findaráto pondered to himself. Is there something more than friendship between Turco and myself? Something neither of us has seen before?

At that moment, Turukáno turned to face him. Findaráto smiled bashfully. It made him look achingly beautiful. Turukáno flushed and looked away.

No. He told himself. It cannot be true. They are wrong. There is nothing beyond friendship between us.

He regarded his cousin again. Yearning stirred in his belly when he drank in the blue of Findaráto's eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. His head spun. Thoughts of rich, fair hair caught in a spill of bright starlight and a golden voice ringing out while caught in the throes of rapture took the place of all else. Turukáno was amazed; it was as if he was seeing his cousin in another light for the first time.

Curufinwë smiled. We were right all along, he thought triumphantly. These two truly do share a bond that goes deeper than the bond shared by friends and kinsmen.

They suspected it for many days now. Findaráto would always seek the opinion of his cousin, Turukáno. Turukáno would do the same in return. If one needed aid, the other would come to them. Hours would be lost when they wove their worlds of dreams together. Lovers in all but name and deed, Tyelkormo had once said, and Curufinwë remarked that perhaps such may indeed be the case. Their plan to expose their cousins' true feelings for each other was born after this, just in time for the Feast.

“Brother,”Curufinwë groaned. Tyelkormo did something wicked to the tip of his shaft with his thumb. “Brother, I believe our kinsmen can be freed now.”

Tyelkormo turned to look, albeit reluctantly. His treelit eyes lit up when his brother said something just loud enough for him to hear.

“I believe you are right, brother,” he said, rising. His cousins braced themselves when he came to them, not knowing what he planned to do with them. Their fears were put to rest when he unsheathed his blade and cut the rope around Findaráto's wrists and ankles. Turukáno was next. Then he sat astride his lap and kissed him.

Turukáno longed for nothing more than to resist him, to bite back and bloody Tyelkormo’s lips. It was no less than what he deserved, he thought. Then Tyelkormo sighed and kissed him harder. It threw the floodgates wide open, and drowned what little resistance Turukáno had. He yielded to the wild and insistent demands of his body and returned his cousin’s kiss with equal fire, hoisting himself to his knees and taking his cousin into his arms when the warmth of his mouth continued to flow into his own.

“Perfect,” Tyelkormo all but purred when he pulled away. He still kept himself firmly seated on his cousin’s lap, his arms draped around his shoulders. Then, he turned to Findaráto. “Join us, Ingoldo,” he said, and he gestured for his brother to join them. Curufinwë took the place he always did: by his brother’s side. “No one besides the four of us needs to know what took place this hour.”

“Do I have your word on this?” Findaráto was tempted to say yes, but he had to consider the risk of discovery. If the others found out, the shame and disgrace that would surely follow should word of his sharing pleasures with his cousin spread—he and Turukáno would never be able to show their faces in Tirion again.

“You have my word as a son of Fëanáro, and a grandson of our king, Finwë.” Tyelkormo shuddered when his brother’s lips pressed against his shoulder and when his cousin tightened his hold around his waist. “Pray what is your answer?”

Findaráto took a deep, steadying breath and gripped Turukáno’s chin, tilting it to the side so their lips could meet.

#feastofhorns #feastofhorns2024 #celegorm #curufin #finrod #turgon #celegorm x curufin #turgon x finrod #celegorm x curugin x turgon x finrod #the silm #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

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anerea-lantiria · 7 months

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Five Wizards :|: Istarlindalë

My second art for @tolkienrsb was claimed by the lyrical @lferion, who's created a poetic exploration of the five Maiar who became the Istari, covering everything from their origins in the Great Music to their involvement in all the major events from the First Age to the end of the Third Age and beyond!

Istari is Quenya meaning "those who know" and lindalë means "music", thus Istarlindalë is the "Song of the Wise", their story:

"... A quintet they were now, five Thoughts become (and becoming, growing, changing, living) individuals, single selves, though they clung still each to the others.

"It was then that individuals began to realize their names, while also feeling drawn to one or the other of the Valar. Maiar were not then meant to be wholly separate; distinct, yes, discrete, not as such. Neither separated from the Valar nor from their harmonic fellows. And thus it was that the quintet became five separate selves, no longer intermingled, though still in harmony, in friendship and alliance and hope with each other. "Fiery-red Curumo was Aulë's by choice and affinity; brown Aiwendil naturally went with Yavanna, though Vána and Estë loved him as well; Alatar and Pallando blue-green, blue-violet, sea-blue and lake-blue and the white-blue of rushing water were drawn to Ulmo, to Varda, to Oromë, returning always to Ulmo after each venture, and mist-grey, silver-granite-cloud-grey Olórin served and learned and grew with Manwë and Lorien and Nienna in turn. "And due to their inquiring spirits and breadth of knowledge, their willingness to both question and learn (sometimes to the exasperation of those they would learn from, for they were to a one persistent and filled with curiosity), to listen more than they spoke, they came to be known as The Knowledgeable Ones, the Istari as the Elves would later have it."

From Istarlindalë by Lferion, coming soon.

#gandalf #saruman #radagast #blue wizards #silm art #silm fic #trsb23 #trsb2023 #lferion #anerea

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 year

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Terrible Fic Ideas #24: LotR, but make it half-Maia!Legolas

I honestly thought I was done with Legolas headcanons, but then this one hit me over the head: what if Legolas’ mother was a Maia?

Bear with me:

We are given little-to-no information about Legolas’ background in canon. The only thing we know for sure is that his father, Thranduil, was originally from Doriath and has been ruling Mirkwood since his own father, Oropher, died of his own poor tactical thinking in the War of the Last Alliance.

But what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because no one in Middle Earth has any idea either?

Just imagine it:

After the War of Wrath, Oropher led his people into the Greenwood and established himself as king over the local population. However this came about, "The few Sindar who had come with him were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their customs and language and taking names of Silvan form and style. Oropher and his household wished to return to a simple existence natural to the Elves before they had been disturbed by the Valar" [x].

I'm not quite sure what Silvan elves got up to before Greenwood became Mirkwood, but I imagine it involved a lot of frolicking and hunting in the woods, and generally living up to the stereotype forest-dwelling immortal spirits at one with nature. And Thranduil, being the prince of this realm, would be naturally be the best of them all.

I imagine this catches the eye of one of the more minor Maiar sometime in the Second Age - a hunter in Oromë's retinue, most likely, but someone in Vána's retinue could possibly work too.

Thranduil strikes up a relationship with this Maia whenever she passes through, because unlike Melian a hunter of Oromë wouldn't be content to stay in one bounded woods when there are things to hunt across Arda and Aman. It is the epitome of a long-distance relationship.

Key to all of this is that Thranduil never tells anyone her identity. Oh, he very obviously is in a relationship and will disappear for weeks at a time throughout the Second Age to be with his wife, but no one ever meets her - or, as they assume she's just some Silvan elf with no interest in being princess or queen, admits to being her.

Thranduil goes off with his father to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. Unlike his father, he lives and returns to the Greenwood as king of his people.

Shortly after he returns, his Maiar wife presents him with baby!Legolas to raise and rejoins Oromë's hunt. Depending on his actual age when given to Thranduil, Legolas may even have some youthful memories of hunts he spent on the back of his mother's horse and/or of hunts in Aman.

Their relationship continues much as before, and though she makes the effort to be more present for Legolas' benefit it's dealer's choice whether she's successful at it. Maybe as a Maia of the hunt she's not good with children and is able to salvage her relationship with her son when he gets old enough to spend all his days hunting too; maybe she's a really good mother despite her frequent absences and the family dynamics just work for everyone. Who knows?

Legolas' mother is only a minor Maia, and so he's not quite as extra as Lúthien. He's noted for being the best hunter of his age - but most assume that's down to genetics, because of his father's legendary skill, and because of a lifetime of practice, because Mirkwood is Mirkwood.

And, honestly, a Mirkwood filled with spiders to hunt is probably all a half-Maia elf could ever want, particularly when their Maia parent is a huntress of Oromë.

The events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings go as in canon, with the exception of Galadriel saying that she cannot give Legolas a better bow than his mother made for him, and so granting him a different gift. This prompts several questions about Legolas' mother, particularly when Aragorn admits that not even Elrond knows her identity.

The hobbits responsible for The Red Book of Westmarch never learn the truth.

But, as I'm an inveterate Legolas/Gimli stan, Legolas admits the truth to Gimli sometime after that relationship forms - maybe Legolas' mother shows up at some point while they're in Ithilien to check up on her son after the war ends and the truth comes out; maybe it comes out when Legolas is trying to reassure Gimli theirs wouldn't be the most unusual marriage in the family - but no one else ever learns the truth.

It's Legolas' Maia heritage that allows Gimli to sail with him to Aman - either his mother requests it as a boon from the Valar for her son, or something about his ancestry allows him to grant others access.

Bonuses include: 1) Everything that might point to Legolas' Maia heritage is written off as elfish weirdness by non-elves, Silvan weirdness by non-Silvan elves, and Sinda weirdness by Silvan elves; 2) Despite all this, Legolas talks about his mother a lot and so by the breaking of the Fellowship everyone has this idea that his mother is the Greatest Hunter Ever To Live; and 3) the question of just who Thranduil is married to being a big source of betting and speculation for elves, and all the elves the Fellowship encounters try to use them to get the inside track.

And that's it. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #tolkien #legolas x gimli #legolas #thranduil #legolas headcanon #lotr headcanons #tolkien headcanons

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eggxeggxegg · 2 years

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What Frodo learned was from disjointed fragments of overheard whispers. Sauron had once been someone greatly admired before Morgoth captured and forcefully twisted him to the dark. Those who once knew him well viewed him as a tragic victim bound to the source of his corruption, not unlike Gollum Frodo supposed. They pleaded to the King of the Valar for his chance for atonement, for with the ring destroyed so must Morgoth’s hold on him. And so the King brought him back to reside in Valinor, where he now tended the gardens of Vána.

I wonder if this is him? Frodo wondered, looking upon the fiery maia who worked so diligently among the golden flowers. Frodo could not tell if the form was masculine or feminine. They were still exquisite, even with sorrow dulling what should be a fierce brilliance, defeat wilting their once mighty stature.

Frodo thought how horrible it was to see something so precious be so broken. “I’m sorry,” he felt compelled to say, for he knew he was part to blame.

“Don’t be,” the one who once was Sauron replied. “It was my choices that I made. I don’t want your pity.” And with a flicker of immense guilt he said, “nor do I deserve it.”

“But isn’t your remorse proof in itself that you do indeed deserve forgiveness?”

The maiar stared at Frodo with an inscrutable gaze. “My remorse is for not what I’ve done but for being the wrong person to be pardoned. I was in charge of Angband, not Melkor. He never captured me, I left on my own accord. I’m the one who should be in the void and he here in the sunlight.”

#angbang prose #wholesome angbang: the story’s all off #angbang #Melkor #morgoth #Mairon #Sauron

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urwendii · 6 months

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Arien Headcanons

you know what i rave about her all the time here or over discord but ive never done this and it must be fixed.

- Arien was the 2nd fire spirit of the Maiar to be made.

- She is one of the Higher Maiar - one of the 6 most powerful of the Maiar order ( Mairon, Eönwë, Ossë, Arien, Ilmarë, Melian)

- During the Discord while Melkor was rallying fire spirits to his cause (after taking note on how powerful they were) he noticed Arien but she turned him off. (vibe check came back wrong).

- Despite popular belief she is a Celestial Maia, initially a Maia of Varda but was loaned to the service of Vána due to her affinity with nurturing the golden flowers of the Valië. Later in Valinor she officially entered her service when she was the only Maia with a close affinity with Laurelin whose blazing light did not bother her.

- She was one of the most enthusiast Ainu to bring the Quendi to Valinor. Something that later tasted like cruel irony when she realised her own light was too much for them to be in her company for too long (+ the accidental retinal damages). Due to this she felt isolated and tried to dim herself, to no avail.

- Before her departure to Endórë, Melian and her were great friends. Arien slightly resented her for staying in Middle-Earth, not understanding Melian's choice.

- Despite being kind and cheerful, Arien - as any fire spirits - has a temper you should not try to ignite (rip Melkor's epidermal<- he deserves it). She is also quite stubborn and independent.

- She had a close friendship with Mairon as one of the only fire spirits that understand her, and was heartbroken when his allegiances changed.

- She is the one who nurtured and grew the last fruit of Laurelin after its discovery.

- From her solar position she actually can look into the Void. Both her and Eärendil will be the first aware when Melkor will finally break the Doors of the Night.

- She is well aware of Tilion's feelings for her but does not reciprocate outside of friendship.

- no she doesn't have the same red hair as Mairon, actually hers is strawberry blonde thank you very much.

- in a polyamorous relationship with Mairon & Eönwë.

#arien #my girl #btw if you dont agree with any of this you are wrong and ten thousands retinal damage to you actually

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eunoiaastralwings · 1 year

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Can I get a platonic Eonwe x adopted girl child apprentice reader, where the child asks him a complicated question like " why can't elves men and dwarves all get along and be friends instead of living separately" being a Maiar, he is supposed to be wiser than most elves and others, but even then, there are some questions that are too complicated, and he has to explain how things aren't that simple.

EÖNWË WITH AN ADOPTED CHILD:

featuring eöwnë and adopted female child

fandom tolkien — the silmarillion

Eönwë had known the hardship of taking care of children - he had watched many children bearing and struggling with them. Manwë had even warned him.

But when he met you - the little girl mesmerized by his wings and pulling at it - he felt a sudden urge to protect you and keep you away from all harm, to wrap his wings around you and carry you away from the place that gave you no home.

He took care of you and loved you as his own - knowing very well this is what he wanted.

Eönwë didn’t care for you bundles of energy - or excitement to learn anything and everything. In fact, he encouraged it.

Eönwë knew children weren’t an easy job - to be honest he would definitely say being the herald was much easier than being a father to a child.

Eönwë prepared himself for everything - the laughs, the crying, the screaming and the whining - but the end of the day when he returns to see your wide sparkling eyes and smile with small arms that wrap tightly with all your might around his neck calling him ‘atya’ is when he knows he always did the right thing.

The herald loved being home to his little chick that was determined to get his attention on every little thing they found interesting - he loves when you come climb onto his lap and talk animatedly about your day.

But what he didn’t prepare himself for were the boundless questions of why. . .

“Why can't elves, men and dwarves all get along and be friends instead of living separately?”

You suddenly asked one day as he explained to you about Middle Earth.

Eönwë looked at you shocked - then blinked, stammering for answer.

He scratched the back of his neck - his eyes moving around the room trying to think of something to explain to you as you waited extra patiently for an answer.

The as if Manwë somehow had his back - or perhaps it was Queen Yavanna or her sister Queen Vána - but anyways his eyes landed on the slowly blooming flower nearby the windows

Eönwë softly hummed - then stood from his sitting position on the ground and sat on the chair.

He gently scooped you into his arms and placed you on his lap.

“You see that pretty flower?”

He asked - pointing to it after you settled on his lap.

Eönwë smiled as you nodded your head enthusiastically.

“Well we know flowers like spring, don’t we?”

Again you nodded your head.

“But did you know some flowers like winter too?”

You frowned.

“But won’t they die?

You asked - rather sad.

Eönwë quickly shook his head.

“No, some flowers like snowdrops love the cold. . .while some do not and love to grow in spring or summer.”

He explained carefully.

“Like flowers - we are all different, little one. We do not tend to like the same things - and sometimes there is nothing wrong with that. If we all liked the same things the world would be too boring.”

He tickled you - making you erupt into giggles.

“But even though we are different - in some way we get along. Like seasons give space to one another, comes and goes - the men, elves and dwarves tend to do the same. There are some harsh winters, but still they help to make sure the flower blooming spring can break through the icy winters and live. . .”

Eönwë sighed for a second.

“While it would be better for all of us to get alone, little one - it does take time, like the seasons take time. . .we must wait, especially when they are all so stubborn!”

He rolled his eyes, making you laugh again.

“One day, little one. . . One day all will be well.”

He said – stroking your hair.

Eönwë prayed it will be because he wanted a better world for you. . .

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

Ainur taglist: @cilil

#Eöwnë #the silmarillion #eunoiawrites #the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion headcanon #eöwnë #eonwe #maiar #ainur #eonwë

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outofangband · 1 year

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I headcanon that there is variation in the natures of Maiar regarding their devotion, free will, purpose and expression, and intentions. Though almost all serve one of the Valar (some more closely than others), they vary in form and roles with some functionally autonomous beings with preferences and opinions and others closer to concepts or vessels.

To rank them into a neat scale would be near impossible (especially considering the number of factors) but for some examples

Eönwë is an example of a more autonomous being. He is fiercely loyal to Manwë and cannot conceive of being otherwise but he is nonetheless capable of his own opinions including those that might include a note of uncertainty or disagreement towards the will of Manwë. Eönwë is capable too of taking on different forms and has preferences regarding his appearance and control over how he changes it. Despite having a high level of autonomy for the Maiar, he will not, or cannot, veer from his path. He will serve the will of Manwë (though he might challenge it on occasion) until the end

Some Maiar are clearly capable of changing allegiances like Ossë and Sauron and Langon, perhaps feeling a devotion more to a concept than a Vala

Melian is a Maia of Vána who does not appear to serve her directly. She is capable of decisions for her own sake and the sake of others around her -and can apparently exert her will onto others and possibly control them- (CoH, Silm).

Arien and Tilion, Maiar of Vána and Oromë: they seem bound to specific tasks they do not veer from however still seem to have some autonomy, as in some versions Arien chooses different forms to appear in, Tilion makes conscious choices regarding his path, and both seem to have had some say in the ultimate decision to bear the sun and moon. They are both very powerful and in control of that power and thus I think they are more similar to Eönwë in terms of autonomy however their binding to eternal tasks still marks them as more distinctly non human and non elven

Each Vala has a different level and type of influence over their Maiar too with some forms of influence or contact that is normal for one considered taboo to another

We get into more speculation and headcanon here with other forms of Maiar

In canon there are creatures that seem to be Maia or Maia adjacent (the Eagles which do not or cannot change form and have greater power but narrower paths than ordinary eagles, dragons with their complicated autonomy and sentience, Huan and Nahar, etc)

I headcanon there are innumerable more examples of these types of beings. (I talked a bit here about the extent of Maiar)

There are Maiar who take on the forms of specific phenomena and might remain dormant or incorporeal when not appearing thus. Maiar might appear as colors, smells, wisps, emotional or psychological or even physical phenomena, flora and fauna, and even geography or dimensional spaces one can enter (I’m somewhat inspired by Mushishi too as well as the spaces in Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Remnants or residue of the Ainur appearing this way can further confuse things.

They have vastly varying degrees of sentience and awareness and communication. Less complex forms can often mean less complex existences, at least in the minds of elves and humans, but there is not a direct correlation. Some Maia appear to present only aspects of a full emotional and autonomous existence, for example appearing fully capable of humor through timing, context, etc but not otherwise able or willing to communicate with elves or replicate their experiences and expression. Some might be capable of profound empathy but unable to communicate through any spoken language, or able to mimic the body language and appearances of elves but not their tongue. Some communicate solely through music, through color, or imparting emotions.

On that note, it is not uncommon for pronoun conventions to differ among the Maiar with pronouns specific to objects, animals or abstract concepts being not uncommon

To be continued (I love world building and speculative subjects like this so please feel free to ask more! Or share thoughts!)

Follow up

#the silmarillion #Eönwë #Ainur #musing and meta #melian

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cilil · 8 days

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It comes in Threes

✍ Prompt: Throuple + veni vidi vici | Arien/Eönwë/Melkor x Mairon ✍ Synopsis: On Almaren, Mairon finds various lovers; in his hubris, he wants them all. ✍ Warnings: Mairon is a little shit ✍ Triple drabble ✍ SWG archive

The first time Mairon acquires a lover, it is purely by happenstance.

It is Arien who seeks him out, who comes to him when he is by himself and makes the effort to get to know him.

He is the only fire spirit left beside her, and she desperately craves a companion who understands her, Mairon knows. But he too grows fond of her — her grace, her pride, her temper, her nature that is so similar to his own.

And it's a comfortable position to be in, to be sought after by one of Almaren's most admired and desirable Maiar.

Eönwë has been watching them, both him and Arien. Mairon has long since seen his longing glances and observed his attempts to be near either of them, visiting Vána's meadows and Aulë's forges to talk to them under some pretence.

His attention, too, is flattering, much like Arien's, as he's the chief of the Maiar and renowned for his strength in battle.

Arien thinks of him as a cute little toy. Mairon agrees. They decide together that they want him.

Eönwë is overjoyed when they embrace him, having expected rejection; yet now he's a part of the love he desired.

Melkor has little consideration for Mairon's Maiarin lovers and thinks himself the victor of any competition before it has even begun.

At first Mairon is irate and rejects him, but later he begrudgingly sees a strange wisdom in his stance. For would he not be a fool to trade a Vala for a few Maiar, lovers he so easily acquired no less?

To become Melkor's would be effortless, Mairon thinks, but to claim him on his own terms would be a challenge.

The willful Vala has his own plans, but in his hubris, he wants him for his collection still.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @destinyeternity1 @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams

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swanmaids · 1 year

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for @imakemywings . huge congratulations on finishing your school exams!! have some pain.

Tirion

Gently, Turukáno lifted his little sister out of her tow- cart, and set her onto the path. Tirion’s walled gardens were beautiful, blossoming with unnumbered types of flowers, dotted throughout with marble statues and tended by maiar of Vána herself. He was about to tell Irissë of some of the rare plants that could be found along the path, but before he could open his mouth to do so, the little girl was racing ahead of him. Turukáno smiled to himself as he followed her, long legs easily keeping pace.

Keeping his little sister out from under his parent’s feet while they took lunch with his aunt and uncle hadn’t been Turukáno’s plan for the day, but Findekáno was nowhere to be found, and besides, spending time with Irissë was never a chore.

“Look!” she cried, an enormous leaf clasped in a chubby fist, “I’ve found the biggest leaf ever!”

“Let me see, dear heart” he smiled, encouraging her to open her hand. “My goodness!” he mock-gasped. “That certainly looks like a big leaf to me. But for the biggest ever - well, we might need to make for Laurelin for that. What do you say we go there tomorrow, hmm?”

“Laurelin!” Irissë cheered.

That was settled, then. “But now we’re here, I’d like to get some sketches of the statues...”

“Turukáno? We didn’t expect to see you here!” a voice behind them called. He turned, to see Findaráto’s sweetheart Amarië , arm in arm with -

“Elenwë ?”

“It was actually me who called out to you, but yes, I am here with my lovely friend”, Amarië rebuked lightly, “We came to see the rose garden. But what about you? I’ve not seen you around here before.”

Turukáno felt his face heat. Surely his feelings about Elenwë could be seen from space at this point, no matter how he tried to conceal them. He chanced a look at her - her face was red and she was staring at the ground. Oh no, had he embarrassed her too?

Salvation came in the form of Irissë barelling into his legs.

“What’re you talking about?” she called. Turukáno would never cease his fascination with how such a small child could be so very loud. He lifted her onto his hip and let her play with one of his stray braids.

“I’m just saying hello to my friends, sweetling. Amarië, Elenwë , this is my sister Irissë . I’ve just brought her here to play, she likes the leaves...” he paused, noticing that his sister had begun to chew on his hair. “Actually, it’s about time for her snack, excuse me a moment -” he fumbled with the pockets of his robes, to produce a small pouch of dried fruits - “here, sweetling.”

Elenwë smiled, Laurelin’s light illuminating her face and hair. “You’re, um. You’re good with her”, she said quietly.

He shifted Irissë ’s warm, solid weight in his arms. “I love her”, he said, and meant it.

Gondolin

Turgon had not thought he was capable of crying any more tears, not since his wife’s hand had slipped from his grip and she had fallen below the icy waters, but it seemed life was determined once again to prove him wrong.

“Turukáno”, his sister rasped, and a bloody froth bubbled from her mouth as she did so. Her shoulder where the javelin had smote her was staining the bandages around it a foul green colour, and the air in the room was thick with the strange sweet scent of rot.

“Don’t try to talk if it hurts you”, he implored her, “I understand. It’s alright.” It was difficult to get the words out, around the ache in his throat. He knelt by the side of her bed and took her hand, damp with sweat.

She gave a small smile. “Turukáno. I’m glad that I could see you again..”

“Me too”, he said, and scrubbed his face with the back of his free hand. “Me too.” But not like this, anything but this...

Aredhel had not wanted her son to see her this way. The siblings were alone together, the world condensed to the bedchamber of the dying woman.

“Do you remember how you used to take me to the gardens in Tirion?” she asked. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without weeping.

“I always loved those trips. Perhaps we’ll see each other there again... I’d like that...”

Her hand slipped from his grasp. Turgon buried his face in the blankets and howled.

***

He told his daughter and his vassals to leave him as he walked the city walls alone. There was much to do. He had ordered all the tapestries taken down and the statues covered, so that the very walls themselves would mourn for Aredhel. Then there was a funeral and a burial to ready the city for, and a grieving nephew to shelter.

His stomach swooped as he reached Caragdûr and looked down over the edge. It would be quick, whispered the traitor voice inside his head, the one that had dogged his heels ever since that awful day on the Ice. A few more steps and put an end to all this. A few more steps and you’ll be back with Aredhel, and Argon, and Elenwë.

But he could not do it. There was his daughter to think of, and the boy...

Alone on the ledge, he let out a scream, and stood to listen as it rang around the mountains.

#my post #my fic #turgon #aredhel

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silmforrookies · 1 year

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Chapter II. Valaquenta, or Wow, That's a Lot of Names

Alright, so where were we - ah yes, Eru showed the Ainur the vision of the World (Arda), and a lot of them decided Arda is cool so they came down and started shaping the world. Sounds about right.

Now, what exactly is Valaquenta? Basically, it's a chapter where Tolkien introduces us to the divine beings, not in "general", like in the last chapter, but more personally - we learn their names, what they are like, what are their domains, and that Melkor is a b-(CENSORED). Though we already knew that last bit.

Valaquenta can be divided into three sections:

Fanboying Over Valar

Fanboying Over Maiar

Melkor Is A Bastard And We Should Not Forget That

"Noldo", you might ask, "with all my due respect, who the hell are Valar and Maiar?"

Valar and Maiar are two kinds of Ainur - an Ainu is a Vala or a Maia depending on their power; Valar are the rulers, and Maiar are the servants. There are seven Vala-Lords and seven Valië-Queens; so fourteen if put them together and fifteen if you add Melkor - but Melkor is an idiot so he doesn't count. Their names are: Manwë, Ulmo, Aulë, Oromë, Namo (Mandos), Irmo (Lórien), and Tulkas; and Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Estë, Vairë, Vána, and Nessa.

Well. Onto the main course! (if you've just heard someone sobbing in despair, yeah, that was me, sorry.) LETS LEARN ABOUT THE VALAR, KIDS! LETS RAISE OUR PRAYERS TO OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR MANWË SÚLIMO-

Manwë, also known as Manwë Súlimo, is the creator of skies and air and all that inhabits it. He's Eru's favourite. Eru's perfect son. Eru's golden child. He understands Eru like no one else does and often has private chats with him. When they only descended into Arda, he was second in might to Melkor, but, since Melkor is an idiot, he's deemed the strongest of the Valar. Manwë is married, and his wife's name is Varda.

Varda is elven favourite. Her surname is Elbereth, or Elentári, depending on which political party you will choose later in the years. She is Lady of Stars, and her domain is light. She and Manwë dwell together on the highest peak of Taniquetil (local holy mountain), and when they sit beside each other on their thrones, Varda hears all what's happening in Arda, and Manwë sees further than anyone else.

Oh, by the way! Melkor wanted to date Varda but she rejected him, because - you guessed it! - he is an idiot. So Melkor is scared shitless of her, as he should be.

Ulmo is the Vala of water, and he is positively Done. Manwë? Done. Melkor? Done. Eruhini? Do- oh wait, he loves those, actually.

Ulmo doesn't give a shit unless the world is literally falling apart. He doesn't wear "normal" bodies like the other Valar and appears in a form of giant warrior (borderline giant wave) which scares the Children of Ilùvatar which, in turn, makes Ulmo sad - because he loves them.

Ulmo reigns over all waters and often travels to Middle-Earth. Elves believe his voice and words can be heard in rivers and streams. He was best friends with Manwë, but we don't know much about the current state of affairs - only that Ulmo rarely visits land or other Valar.

Aulë is a craftsman. He is second in might to Ulmo, and created a lot in tandem with him and Manwë. He made metals and minerals, and he delights in all handiworks - from little trinkets to majestic buildings. He and Melkor are ✨narrative parralels✨. Both of them are driven by the will to create something new and original - but, while Melkor wastes his power on envy and hatred, Aulë doesn't think himself greater than the others, is quick to help and to be helped. Melkor absolutely hates his guts. He's been destroying Aulë's creations since the dawn of time. Aulë first have been repairing them, but then grew weary, tired of Melkor's temper tantrums.

Aulë is married to Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits, also called Kementári, Queen of Earth. She claims author rights to the animals and plants and is as powerful as Varda.

Next up are Feantúri-brothers, Námo Mandos and Irmo Lórien, named so for the places of their dwellings - and then, their respective spouses.

Námo, the Lord of Doom, knows time, or, as Galadriel said, "things that were, things that are, and things that yet may be". He suffers from a disease known as "I TOLD YOU SO! I TOLD YOU SO, BUT NOOOO, WHY WOULD WE LISTEN TO NÁMO, AKA THE DOOMSMAN, AKA THE ONE WHO KNOWS LITERALLY ALL THE SPOILERS?!" His name is Námo, but he is often called Mandos because his home is called Mandos, House of the Dead. He summons all the dead souls and makes sure they heal accordingly. He's married to Vairë the Weaver, who weaves the history of Arda into her tapestries.

Irmo Lórien is a Vala of dreams and rest. His respectable place of dwelling is Lórien - the fairest of places in Arda. He lives with his wife Estë, Valie of healing, who sleeps by day and walks by night. Lórien is a place where many find peace and refreshment - not just Elves, but Ainur too.

Similar to Estë, but more powerful than her, is Nienna. To shorten the story:

Nienna is Sadness and Grief, and she mourns every wound Melkor does to Arda. In fact, she started mourning long before the Arda even existed, in her Song. She spends a lot of time in Halls of Mandos, helping dead souls and mourning with them.

Then comes Tulkas the Valiant. Tulkas is. Well.

(live footage of tulkas viping the floor with melkor, years of the lamps, silmarillion)

He's super strong and is absolutely unhinged. Dude knows no fear. He has only one mission: to beat up Melkor. Yes, you guessed it, Melkor absolutely hates his guts. He is married to Nessa, Valie of... dancing? beauty? Nessa is a sister of Oromë - Vala of Hunting. Oromë loves forests and loves Middle-Earth; he would often visit it, and he would often beat Melkor's ass, too. Orome has a sister, Vaná, Valië of Youth.

So, there are fourteen Valar - but if you thought we're done, ohoho! you're in for a wild ride, my friend, for the Valar are divided into Aratar (kings and queens) and non-Aratar (everybody else). There are eight Aratar: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Aulë, Yavanna, Aulë, Nàmo, Nienna and Oromë. Melkor could've been up there, but he's an idiot, so. Yeah.

Yeah.

(cries in dozen more of the Maiar)

Alright, kids. Buckle up, since the Maiar are beating up my ass and I have no patience left!

Ilmarë and Eönwë - chiefs of the Maiar in Valinor. Ilmarë is a handmaid of Varda and Eönwë is a Herald of Manwë.

Uinen and Ossë - Maiar of Ulmo. Ossë loves coasts and islands and delights in storms. Uinen is his wife, and she loves the deep waters. Ossë, chaotic bastard as he was, once almost joined Melkor and went unhinged, but, fortunately, Uinen brought him back to the light side with the ✨power of love✨. Ossë is still a tiny little bit unhinged and sometimes loves drowning ships for funsies, that's why sailors pray to Uinen to calm him down. Relationship goals, amirite.

Melian was a Maia who spent most of her life in Middle-Earth, married a major elven hottie, borned a daughter who was even a bigger hottie, and suffered from a disease known as "for god's sake please someone listen to a literal angel advising you", but we know nothing about that yet.

Ólorin, aka Gandalf, aka Mithrandir, aka The Guy You Definitely Know About!

AND NOW, FINALLY, LETS TALK ABOUT OUR LOCAL DEMONS! I'VE GOT FITEEN MINUTES UNTIL 15 H, CAN YOU TELL I'M SANE

Alright - so, of course, we've got our local Satan, Melkor, aka Morgoth, aka Bauglir, aka The Guy Who is Still A Bastard. He didn't have a particular domain - but he had part in powers of all the Ainur, and it was intended for him to help other Ainur excell even more at their crafts. Unfortunately, he spent all of his might to hate and envy, until he could do nothing else but imitate the creations of other Ainur. Still, there were many who followed him; most terrifying of them were Valaraukar, aka Balrogs - spirits of fire, demons of terror.

And of course, Sauron. What to say about Sauron?... Well, he's a bastard who looks up to Melkor. Mini-Boss. Mini-Morgoth. He does have cool fire-cat-werewolf aesthetic, though. If Melkor is chaos, Sauron is Order. If Melkor is brute force, Sauron is swift strategy. Sauron, though he's a Maia, is as terrifying as his Master, and it's better not to cross him.

Well, that was it! I've got two more minutes left until 15h - you'll get me next time, procrastination >:)

taglist: @none-ofthisnonsense (ask to be added!)

#silmarillion #tolkien #melkor #valar #silmforrookies #silm fic #14:59 FOLKS #valaquenta

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