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#and then going off about the Silmarillion
rotationalsymmetry · 24 days
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"Tolkien does not write conventional heroes and the Lord of the Rings is a powerful statement about how all power corrupts" is a decent first order approximation, and it's certainly closer to that than a generic power fantasy action movie.
It's not fully accurate though. The Ring does not represent all power -- powerful items in the wider Legendarium are generally dangerous, but not necessarily uncomplicatedly bad things, and some powerful things like the two trees are uncomplicatedly good things. The Ring is a specific powerful item made by a vicious Maia that causes harm because that Maia crafted it with his ill intent and will to dominate. It doesn't represent power in general.
But there is a very strong general theme of wanting power over others -- mastery -- being a bad thing. While acting out of pity, in the sense of being moved to act towards the common good, is elevated as a good and important thing. Basically, "I don't know how to explain to you that you should care about other people", except on the form of several books trying to explain just that. (And I'll count the hobbit in that -- it's a simpler adventure story, but not without a great big "hey maybe you can put aside your greed-based petty squabbles with basically good people in order to deal with the real enemy for a minute?" at the end.)
But there's also just a whole lot of people being messy. Feanor sucked and his oath was a terrible idea, and obviously the downstream effects of the oath were morally heinous and pragmatically disasterous -- except that the oath and Feanor wanting his special gems back is the only reason the Noldor were in Belariad in the first place, and the Noldor were the only ones mounting an effective resistance against Morgoth that wasn't just holing up in a walled kingdom and everyone outside your borders (including all the humans) fends for themselves. If they weren't there, presumably Morgoth would have ended up dominating the continent much sooner and enslaving and torturing more people. Whereas the sensible elves that stayed behind got to enjoy, effectively, their gated community while the world outside burned. So. It's complicated.
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sesamenom · 7 months
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Manwe & Melkor reverse au
Thoughts & alternate versions under the cut!
so i was thinking abt what if manwe was the evil brother and anyways this happened. he doesnt seem like he would go for the black and grey iron theme so the evil colors in this universe are probably more along the lines of pale desaturated blues and greys. the helcaraxe would be full of lightning instead of ice (like the thunder battles in the hobbit) manwe!utumno/angband would be really tall towers/fortresses surrounded by storm clouds and he would definitely have his lightning sword from the earlier texts.
i couldnt decide between osse or eonwe being the Dark (or Pale Grey i guess) Lieutenant so I did a few diff versions. also i did arien as lord of arda!melkors herald bc of the whole fire theme.
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fancier crowns no vala markings
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osse & arien
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kanalaure · 1 year
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had a thought when i was in the shower, and the thought was 'maglor dual-wields bc he and maedhros learned to use a sword left-handed at the same time' and it started turning the wheels in my head
the thing is. it was, as his brother's regent and someone who lost three family members (three kings) to morgoth in quick succession (the last time bc morgoth is a sore winner and couldnt resist sending an army to a meet up), the best choice to make with the resources and information they had. leaving him, i mean. they didnt even know for sure he was alive until he was hung from the mountain, and the noldor literally could not have survived losing a fourth leader that soon (not to mention this would have put celegorm in charge, and..... well. well.................)
but
you cant tell me he didnt want to. you cant tell me that didnt eat at him to leave his only older brother, his king, hanging there while he lead their followers as best he could. but after everything............ really, how do you apologize to someone for failing to save them while proof it could have been done was dangling in front of your face?
and when i was thinking about all that i got this image. that when maedhros limps his way to the practice grounds for the first time, maglor is there. he stares at him across the field, and draws his sword with his off-hand.
"it's fair," he says, and nothing else
it's the only apology he knows how to make
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fistfuloflightning · 11 months
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“What is this?” Finrod examined the ring his wife had just slid onto his finger. His brows rose at the design. “…Snakes and flowers?” he asked. “Is this us?”
“What do you think? I’m not one for sentimentality. It’s just the symbol of your House.” Curufin’s flat voice was reassuring. She bent her head over his hand, fingers pointing out details as she explained. “—the eyes are those jewels Father gave you as a wedding gift you never knew what to do with, and the silver-mithril alloy for the base was—”
He watched her face as she spoke, more talkative than her wont, a rather delicate flush to her cheeks that most wouldn’t even notice. But he noticed. He always noticed.
Curufin stuttered to a halt when the ringed hand rose to cup her cheek. “Was this what you were working on for so long?” Finrod asked softly. “What you were acting so secretive about?”
Her lips pressed tight but her intense eyes belied the affection she had poured into this work of love.
“I will cherish it.” Finrod caught her chin and kissed her soundly. “It was a gift from you. Therefore, I will keep it with me always.”
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7th Age Valinor Concept: devaluation of the Silmaril. Some brilliant baby or simply the combined effort of years of knowledge cracks the code on Silmaril technology and suddenly they can be made en masse. Because the Two Trees are dead and Varda isn’t handing out blessings anymore, the new Silmarils aren’t quite as stunning as the ogs, the same way mass produced tech is never as fancy as the prototypes. Less psychically devastating hope beam and more sexy SAD lamp. Those bright white beams they put on new cars. Every elf under 3000 has a hi wattage ultra diamond or three on them and their elders can’t decide if it’s horrifically disrespectful or so voiddamned funny.
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just finished rereading the silmarillion. out of spite.
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physalian · 3 months
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What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!
I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!
Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:
1. No modern means of communication
Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.
With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.
2. The Monster Allegory
Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.
Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.
What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.
3. Magic Systems!
Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?
Then Fantasy is for you!
There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.
4. Real-World Politics, who?
Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.
Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”
Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.
5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”
Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?
This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.
6. You are in complete control
But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.
It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.
It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.
7. Even if it has been done before, do it again
You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).
But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.
So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.
And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.
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mirkwoodest · 5 months
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After interpreting the signs and omens I have decided to finally, after 14 years of failed attempts and procrastination, read the Silmarillion this February. Because I thrive off of peer pressure and making stupid jokes, I'm also going to make a discord server for anyone who would like to join me. It's open to both first-time readers as well as powerful beings who have read and reread the silm more than once. Let me know if you're interested! If you're nervous about your ability to keep up or haven't used discord before, please don't let that stop you, this is going to be a chill as hell. Maybe there will be 3 of us and maybe there will be 30, but either way we are sure to yell about some elves together.
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alwaysonthemend · 7 months
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Author's Note: Hello my loves! This is my most favorite thing that I've ever written so I really hope you all enjoy. Please ignore any typos lol 💞
Content Warnings: Cussing, arguing, mentions of unrequited love, heartbreak, mentions of drinking, frat parties, angry sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, choking, praise kink, squirting, oral (m and f receiving) bruises from sex. I think that's all but please let me know if I missed anything! 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI
Word Count: 7946 (oops)
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Frat parties can be hit or miss you’ve come to discover. The music tends to be just okay (though they often play the better music towards the end) and they’re always hot and cramped and leave you feeling completely wiped out and gross by the end. For a long time, you avoided them all together – choosing instead to spend your Friday nights indoors reading or listening to music. But then you’d met Josh (and by extension the rest of the Kiszka-Wagner friend group) and they’d shown you that with the right people, parties could be a hell of a good time. Having a group to go with – ones who’ll dance with you and laugh and have fun with you, makes parties a nice break to the monotony every now and again.  
This one will no doubt be like all the others – packed and hot and the music blaring so loudly that you can feel it reverberate through your chest. The lights will be flashing between blues, greens, and reds and the room will smell strongly of alcohol. But you'll be surrounded by your little group of friends who will be laughing and dancing with you, distracting you from anything other than having fun. 
You’d met Josh during your first semester at University of Michigan and the two of you had quickly become good friends. You’d been partnered up in your film class and the rest, as they say, was history. He’d been the one to drag you out tonight – despite your protests of being tired. 
“Please?” He’d asked, giving you his very best puppy dog eyes. “It’s not fun if I have to go by myself.” 
“Josh,” You’d sighed, tucking your book into your backpack as you spoke, “I’m tired. Get Jake to go with you or something.” 
“He is going with me! But he hates frats and all he does is stand there and sulk the whole time.” 
You’d halted for a brief moment, your brain conjuring up images of Jake at a frat party that had butterflies erupting in your tummy before you’d quickly shaken your head, but Josh had caught you anyway. 
A smug smile had spread across his face, making him look like the damn Cheshire Cat. 
“Is seeing Jake not reason enough to show up? You know you wanna see him…” 
You rolled your eyes, huffing a breath and trying to ignore the heat spreading across your cheeks. Evidently, he’d yet to catch on to the tension that had taken up residence between you and his twin in the last few months – a far cry from what you two used to be. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joshua Michael. No idea at all.” 
“Sure you don’t, babe.” He’d said with a grin, knowing that he’d successfully convinced you. 
Your relationship with Jake is odd to say the least. You’d met him pretty quickly after meeting Josh – given the fact that they’re practically attached at the hip, and you’d hit it off with him just as you had with his twin. In fact, there was a time when you’d thought that maybe there was something more there with him… subtle glances and private smiles that took place between the two of you had sure made you think so. 
Though you and Jake had never hung out one on one (Josh was always there with you), the two of you would usually manage to find an excuse to sneak off together and you’d quickly found that the two of you have a lot in common – a love for music and Tolkein most notably. You and him could spend hours talking about the nuances of the Silmarillion and about whether or not Hozier should be considered a pop artist. 
Your favorite times though were when you all would be hanging out at Josh’s house for movie nights – you, Jake, Sam, Danny, and Josh, and you and Jake would sneak off alone to do whatever you pleased. Most of the time, you and him would end up on the roof to stargaze. Sometimes you talked – you’d talk for so long that both of your voices would grow hoarse from use. Other times, the two of you would just sit in silence, enjoying the other’s company. In those moments, it was like you and Jake were the only two people in the universe, completely content to let everything and everyone else melt away. 
Your friendship with Josh had been easy but the one you had with Jake had been effortless. Jake made you feel seen – like you could truly be yourself without him judging you for it. Though he could come across as broody and sullen at times, there’s a light inside Jake that only few people are lucky enough to see… and he had trusted you enough to be one of those people. At least, until about four weeks ago when suddenly it seemed like he didn’t want to even be near you anymore. 
Where used to the two of you would hang off to the sides at parties and gatherings (often standing a lot closer than you needed to be), now it was like he made sure to be wherever you weren’t. And God, did it hurt your feelings. You’d allowed yourself to become vulnerable with him – let him see parts of yourself that you’d hardly shared with anyone, not even Josh. And he’d tossed you to the side seemingly overnight… like all those deep conversations you’d had with him meant nothing at all. You desperately wanted to understand what had changed but refused to be the person to reach out. He was the one that stopped texting back. He was the one that started acting like you were merely acquaintances. He was the one who made you think that you were both in love one minute only to completely ignore you the next. He owed it to you to be the one to talk first. 
So silence had fallen completely between the two of you and  evidently, Josh wasn’t aware of it yet. But still, you were determined to not let Jake ruin a good time for you. You hadn’t been out with Josh in ages and you were confident that it would be easy enough to ignore Jake’s existence, especially given that he seemed intent to ignore yours too. 
– 
As expected, you're  immediately assaulted with humidity and the smell of alcohol as you step through the doors. Josh stands at your side as you both scan the crowd for familiar faces. Sure enough, tucked into a far corner is Sam and Danny – both of them already seeming to be a little tipsy. Josh grips your hand and the two of you wade through the sea of bodies, doing your best to avoid stray elbows and drunken party-goers. 
“You actually came!” Danny shouts at you over the din, a rosy hue on his cheeks from the alcohol he’s no doubt already indulged in. He and Sam called it “pre-gaming.” 
“Josh convinced me!” You shout back, nudging his shoulder playfully. 
“It’s my irresistible charm!” Josh answers, grabbing your hands in his and playfully beginning to sway you both back and forth. 
“Charm my ass.” Sam mutters, just barely audible over the music. Josh just shoots him a glare before returning his attention back to you. 
“Where’s Jake?” You ask, allowing Josh to lead you both a little bit more towards the center of the packed room. It's slow going – everyone else is hardly paying attention to anyone trying to get through, but you manage to get halfway there before you both become trapped from moving any further. 
“Sulking over there. Just like I said he would be.” Josh jerka his head in the direction to his left and you follow the movement, finding Jake leaning up against a wall with a red solo cup in his hand. 
Your eyes meet his and he immediately drops your gaze, the corners of his mouth dropping into a frown. You want desperately to march over there and demand he tell you what had changed but you refuse to back down first. This wasn’t the place for that anyway.
“Aren’t you gonna go sulk with him?” Josh asks, smiling down at you. The blue strobe lights make his teeth almost glow and it reflects off his sharp cheekbones. 
You shake your head. 
“I feel like dancing tonight.” 
He only grins before pulling you in closer to him, letting go of your hands to place his palms on your hips. You bring your own hands up and lace your fingers together behind his neck and allow him to guide your hips to the beat of the music. You close your eyes and lean into him, allowing the music to drown out everything else. If you keep your eyes closed, you can almost imagine that it's his twin out here dancing with you instead. 
Josh is attractive – that had been obvious from the moment that you first saw him. And maybe in another lifetime you and him might have been more than friends. But you and Josh both knew that in this one, best friends were all you would ever be. You’d kissed once at a party… You’d both been drunk and high off your asses and afterwards you had both agreed that there wasn’t anything there. But in this moment, you almost wish that you’d fallen for him instead of Jake. Falling for Jake had clearly been foolish given how he dropped you so quickly. Making you feel like he wanted you one moment only to then act like he hated you the next. You know Jake was angry though – especially if the glare that he's giving you and Josh from his place against the wall is anything to go by. 
As you and Josh sway and rock to the pounding music, Jake’s dark gaze stays locked on yours. There's anger in his eyes that makes you want to pull away from Josh but you refuse. Instead, you only pin him with one challenging glare of your own before turning your attention back to Josh. 
“What’s got him so pissy?” Josh asks you, leaning his head down to press his lips against your ear so that you can actually hear him. 
“Hell if I know.” 
Josh hums and you can feel the sound reverberate through his chest thanks to the close proximity. 
“If I didn’t know any better…” he starts with a sly look on his face, “I’d say he looked jealous.” 
“He’s just a dick.” You say, venom lacing your words – the hurt that you’d been keeping to yourself these past few weeks finally beginning to spill over. Josh looks taken aback for a moment before smoothing over his expression. 
“Sorry.” he says, though you can tell that he doesn't really know what he was saying sorry for. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He knows that your relationship with Jake is… different. And it pains him to see you both angry at each other but he has no idea how to fix it. Instead, he seems intent on making it worse. 
“Wanna give him a show then? Show him what he could have had?” Josh whispers, a wicked smile on his face. 
You smile back at him and nod. He uses his grip on your waist to pull you into him even more so that your hips are flush against each other. The lights have morphed from greens and blues to a deep red and the base is pounding in your chest. You move your hips from side to side, pressing your face into Josh’s neck as he moves with you to the beat. It isn't even dancing anymore – just mindless grinding against each other. You deliberately keep your gaze pointed away from Jake but you know he's still watching. You can feel his piercing gaze even from across the room. 
Just as you begin to lose yourself fully to the moment, a strong hand wraps around your bicep and yanks you harshly from Josh’s grip. 
“The fuck?” You spit, spinning around to be met with none other than Jake, his chest heaving and his brows pinched together in anger. 
“Jake, what the fuck is your problem?” Josh yells, regarding his twin with a frown. 
The two seemed to be sizing each other up, though you knew that Josh is just enjoying getting a rise out of his brother and feeling protective over you. But Jake… you can practically see the rage oozing from him. The red lighting makes his smooth skin almost glow and his dark hair falls on either side of his face, framing his sharp features. If you weren’t so pissed at him you might be tempted to kiss him. 
“This doesn’t involve you.” Jake finally says, a dangerous edge to his voice. 
“The hell it doesn’t!” Josh snaps back, eyes blazing in defiance. 
“Josh…” you hedge, placing a calming hand on his forearm. His eyes sweep to yours, immediately softening. “I’ve got it. Thank you.” 
Josh stares at you for a moment, debating whether to step away or not. You hold his gaze, silently trying to let him know that you could handle this on your own. Finally, he dips his head and steps back. 
“I’ll be with Sam and Danny if you need me.” He tells you, before retreating back to the corner. 
You watch him go before spinning on your heel to glare back at Jake. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You rip your arm from Jake’s grip as you speak. 
“What’s wrong with you?” He shouts back angrily. “Grinding on my twin brother like that!”
This time, you're the one to reach out and harshly grip his arm. You tug him backwards, leading him towards a side door that you know leads to a bathroom downstairs. You don’t turn back to look at him as you lead the two of you down, instead focusing on trying to steady your breathing and bring down your blood pressure. You're so angry you could scream. 
As soon as the bathroom door is shut and locked behind the two of you, Jake has you pressed back against the wall, nostrils flared and eyes blown wide as he regards you. 
“What in the world is wrong with you, Jake? You’re acting like an asshole.” You seeth, hating the tremble in your voice. Despite your anger, his closeness is still affecting you.
Jake doesn’t answer. He just stares down at you, chewing on his plump bottom lip. 
“No. I’m not doing this with you.” You shove him away from you, the sudden movement causing him to stumble back slightly. “You don’t get to ignore my existence and then get pissed just because I danced with Josh.” 
“If you wanted to fuck him so badly you could at least have the decency to do it in private. Instead of throwing yourself at him like a whore in the middle of a dance floor.” 
You balk, taken aback by his harshness. Never in all the time you’d known him has he ever spoken to you like that – to anyone for that matter. 
“Fuck you.” You spit, clenching your fists at your sides to stop yourself from punching his stupid, perfect face. “You have no fucking right to be pissed at me, dickhead. I’m the one who should be pissed at you!”
“The fuck did I do?” 
You roll your eyes. 
“If you don’t know what you did then I’m not going to tell you.” You turn your back to him, intent on going back upstairs. “Figure it out yourself.”
“Go right ahead, then. Go fuck my twin like I know you want to!” He snaps and the sheer aggression in his tone makes your whole body freeze. Icy hot anger washes over you and you feel like you could explode from anger. 
“What” You seeth, turning back around to face him, “did you just say to me?”
He meets your gaze, defiance coating his expression. 
“You heard me.” 
“Is that what you want me to do? You want me to fuck Josh?” 
“I don’t care what you do. Just don’t do it where I have to fucking watch.”
His eye twitches, betraying him. You take a step closer and he steps back away from you, caging himself in against the wall. Acting on sheer impulse, you press in close to him – so close that your lips are almost touching. His chest heaves with each breath he takes and a sheen of sweat makes his skin glisten in the low light of the bathroom. 
“I think you care.” You say, voice so low it's almost a whisper. 
“I don’t.” He growls, eyes narrowing dangerously. 
“I call bullshit.” This time, you let your lips just barely ghost over his as you speak. “You’re just pissed that he’s not too much of a pussy to make a move like you are.”
In a flash your back is slammed against the bathroom wall, knocking the air from your lungs. You gasp but the sound is swallowed by Jake crashing his lips into yours. You can’t help but to kiss back and he groans into your mouth. You hook your fingers into the belt loops of his black jeans, pulling him in closer to you. The kiss is rough – teeth clacking together as you practically devour each other. 
Your chest begins to burn and finally you pull back for air. Jake looks completely ravished, cheeks flushed and lips slick with spit. 
“Fuck me.” You demand into the silence, your voice coming out embarrassingly high pitched. 
“Sure you don’t want Josh to do it instead?” His voice cracks on the last word, ruining his facade but you aren’t ready to give up the fight yet. 
“Okay.” You tell him, shrugging your shoulders as you make to step away from him. 
Before you can even begin to detangle yourself from him, he’s spun you around and slammed your face into the cold tile wall. 
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He mutters, smothering your body with his own. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your ass and you can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispers, a tad softer than before. 
You open your mouth to snark back, to tell him that he’s an asshole or a dick or something, but all that comes out is a breathless, needy moan. 
“Words, Y/n.” He insists, digging his fingers into the meat of your hips. 
“Do it, Jake. Fuck me.” You demand, pressing your ass back into his hard length and drawing a breathy little groan from him. “Please.”
The “please” is all it takes. Jake hooks his fingers into your waistband and roughly yanks your jeans and panties down. You hear him unzip his pants and the clink of his belt buckle as he pulls his own jeans down just enough for his length to spring free. He swipes a calloused fingertip through your folds, brushing against your swollen clit and causing you to gasp. 
“Fuck.” The word falls from your lips like a prayer, though to whom you have no idea. God surely wants no part in what Jake is about to do to you. 
“You’re dripping, angel.” Jake murmurs, swiping through your pussy lips again to gather as much of your wetness as he can. You can’t see him but you can hear the wet sounds of his hand pumping his cock, your slick making it easy. “Fuck, you look incredible like this.” 
You whine, shoving your hips backward to let him know that you’re more than ready for him. Jake takes the hint, spearing you with his cock and burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt. The stretch is painful and wonderful all at the same time and you both cry out at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. You want desperately to hear that noise from him again so you bear down on him as much as you can, contracting your muscles to squeeze him. 
“Shit.” He grits out through clenched teeth, wrapping one arm around your lower belly to keep you in place. “You keep doing that and this isn’t gonna last very long.”
“Move, Jakey.” The nickname escapes you unbidden but he doesn’t seem to mind, instead finally starting to rut his hips against you, his cock dragging along your walls deliciously.
You bring both hands up to brace your palms against the wall and let your head fall back onto Jake’s shoulder. Immediately, his lips attach to the sensitive skin as his thrusts pick up in speed. It’s brutal – no finesse as he pounds into you so hard that you see stars. You know that you’re being too loud but you can’t seem to stop yourself. Curses and please and his name spew from your lips with reckless abandon but he’s too far gone himself to silence you. He detaches his lips from your throat and tosses his own head back, little grunts and moans escaping him with each thrust of his hips into yours. He draws you in closer to him with his forearm and his free hand reaches up to wrap around your throat. He squeezes just enough to restrict a little bit of the blood flow, causing your head to swim with pleasure. 
“Who gets to see you like this?” He demands as he drops his forehead to rest against your shoulder, his thrusts somehow picking up even more speed. Your knees slam into the wall each time he pistons in and out of you and you know that you’ll have bruises there tomorrow – battle scars to remind you of this glorious moment. 
“You, Jake. Only you.” You manage to say through a wheeze, his fingers still wrapped around your throat. 
“That’s fucking right.” He confirms, pace beginning to falter. “Touch your clit, angel. Touch her for me.” 
You comply, sliding one hand down to circle feverishly against your swollen bundle of nerves. Your body is trembling, Jake’s grip on you the only reason that you’re still upright. The coil in your belly tightens dangerously, a feeling like none other beginning to claw its way up your body – completely engulfing you in the feeling of Jake, Jake, Jake. 
“M’ gonna cum.” You warn him, speech coming out slurred and barely comprehensible. 
“Fuck, me too. Give it to me. Now!” He demands and the band inside you snaps. 
You cry out loudly, your whole body trembling as the pleasure inside you hits its peak. Jake lets go of your throat and the rush of blood to your head coupled with the way he keeps pounding into you sends you tailspinning into another orgasm. Your pussy feels like it's on fire –  the pleasure and overstimulation of two orgasms so close together sending you into a state of fucked out bliss. It seems to go on forever, your whole body going slack against him. 
Finally, Jake pulls from you and immediately ropes of his own release paint your ass and lower back. The moan that escapes him sounds angelic and you wish that you could have recorded it somehow. 
You both just stand there for a long moment, the silence only broken by yours and his panting as you both recover from the mind-blowing orgasms that you just experienced. 
“Y/n.” His voice cuts through to you, sounding breathy and tired but so much softer than it had before. 
Just as you open your mouth to reply, a frenzied rattle of the door handle causes you both to jump. 
“Open the fucking door!” A drunken voice that you don’t recognize calls out. “I’ve gotta take a piss!” 
Jake lets go of you and you both quickly yank your jeans back up, doing your best to straighten your clothes and hair. Without saying a word, Jake strides over to the door and unlocks it, pushing a frazzled and drunk looking young guy out of the way and exiting the bathroom. 
“Watch it, buddy.” The guy pouts, rubbing his shoulder where Jake had run into him. 
“Move.” You demand, pushing him out of the way again to catch up to Jake as he angrily stomps up the stairs. “Jake!” You call, leaving the poor guy to stare after the two of you confusedly. 
“Jake, wait!’ You yell, ascending the stairs and stepping back out into the cramped dance floor. You’re disoriented, the loud music and flashing lights suddenly causing you to feel dizzy. You just barely see Jake disappear out the front door before you push and shove your way through the throng of people to follow him. 
Stepping out into the cool night air, you see Jake fumbling in his pocket for his car keys. 
“You can’t just leave, Jake!” You call, tears beginning to brim in your eyes. 
He must hear the tremble in your voice because he finally stops, turning back to look at you. He looks distraught. 
“We shouldn’t have done that.” He tells you, eyes dropping to stare at your shoes. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake.” 
“W-what?” It feels like you’re spinning – like someone put your brain in the dryer. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “Why would you-” You stop yourself, unsure of how to even continue. 
“I’m sorry.” He says again, before rounding the corner out of sight, leaving you to stand there alone on the sidewalk. 
Two weeks pass. You and him don’t speak. Hell, you barely even speak to Josh – his presence serving as too much of a reminder of what had happened. It felt like a fever dream… almost like it wasn’t even real. It’s like your own worst nightmare has come true. And not only that, you’re being forced to deal with it completely alone. 
You’d let passion and desperation dictate you towards the decisions that you’d made that night. Had you wanted it in the moment? Yes, you had. But now that it was all over and Jake clearly regretted it, you’re sure that the friendship you’d had with him is shattered beyond repair. Before, there’d been hope of fixing things – of talking things out and going back to how you once were. But now… There’s no reason to hope. You fucked the guy who used to be your closest friend in a frat house bathroom and there’s just no going back from that. 
Josh has been calling and texting you incessantly, begging you to tell him what happened that night. But you refuse. And after he wouldn’t give up asking after the second day, you’d resorted to just ignoring him completely. The fact that Jake hadn’t told him anything – despite having always told him everything, speaks a thousand words about how Jake feels about it. 
A knock echoes through your apartment, just barely audible over the Hozier album you have playing in the background. Thunder rumbles softly in the distance and sheets of rain pelt your windows. It’s a perfect night for a book and some wine – a way to detach yourself from the drama of the past few weeks. 
You sigh audibly, closing your book and placing it on the coffee table next to your wine glass. You figured it wouldn’t take long of ignoring Josh’s messages for him to come and find you. You rise from your seat and make your way to the front door, shoulders taut with the anxiety of having to tell Josh what happened. There’s no way he’s leaving you alone without the full story. 
You open the door, expecting to see a mop of curly hair waiting for you but instead you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of his twin. 
“Jake?” You ask incredulously, instinctively taking a step back from him. “You look…” You trail off. He looks awful. Dark bruises mar the smooth skin beneath his eyes and his long hair lies limp across his shoulders. He’s soaking wet from the rain. 
“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod at him, stepping aside from the doorway to make space for him to step inside. 
He stands completely still after closing the door behind him – awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. 
“Let me get you a towel.” 
You don’t give him time to reply, instead hastily retreating to your bathroom to grab him a clean towel to dry off. Perhaps it’s cowardly to run but you truly hadn’t been expecting to ever see him at your door again. 
When you return he’s still in the same place, dark eyes watching you warily as you hand the towel to him. 
“Thank you.” He says quietly, drying himself off the best he can. 
You just incline your head at him before retreating back to your living room, jerking your head in the direction letting him know that you want him to follow you. 
Your record had gone silent so you go over to your record player and flip it over before pressing play again. 
“Why are you here, Jake?” You ask him, turning back to face him with your arms crossed tightly across your chest. 
“To say that I’m sorry.”  He gingerly places the towel down on the coffee table, his whole body looking tense and uncomfortable. You’ve only ever seen him look like that around strangers. Somehow, you suppose that that’s what the two of you have become to one another. 
“Sorry for what?” You bite out, your hurt spilling over into your words like poison. “For leading me on for months on end or for fucking me in a bathroom and then calling it a mistake?” You don’t want to fight with him. Not anymore. But you can’t seem to stop the harsh words as they spew from your mouth – lashing out like an injured animal that’s been shoved into a corner. You suppose he has done that in a way, showing up at your own home unannounced in the middle of the night like this. 
Jake flinches back slightly at your words, shrinking in on himself like he’s been struck. 
“For… all of it, I guess.”  He shrugs, eyes staying locked onto the floor at your feet. “I don’t know.” 
“You don’t know?” That makes you angry. So angry you could cry. He came all this way – did all those things to you… and yet he doesn’t know. “I think you and I both know that you owe me more than that.” 
He nods once, eyes finally sweeping to meet yours. His gaze almost makes you soften. Almost.
“I assumed a lot of things, Y/n. And made an ass of myself because of it. But I don’t know how to fix it.” 
You collapse onto your sofa, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon. Jake eyes the spot next to you but makes no move to join you. 
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.” You tell him honestly. 
“I- I thought you and Josh were together.” He admits quietly, shoulders sinking in defeat. 
Somehow, you don’t doubt his words – nor do they shock you. You’ve known the twins long enough to see little hints here and there of the insecurity that lies buried within Jake. The way he’s quieter in large groups, like he feels like his words aren’t welcome. The way he shrinks back sometimes, afraid to voice his thoughts for fear of being judged or mocked. You've seen the way that he always looks to Josh in moments of doubt, like he can’t fathom ever going against what his twin might want of him. 
Josh had even hinted about it once, a long long time ago. He’d told you that he worries about Jake sometimes when he thinks about when they’re older and he won’t be around to look after him. You hadn’t quite understood the meaning behind his words or the depth of their bond back then. But now you do. They’re connected in a way that you can never understand. Their very souls are intertwined – wrapped around each other lovingly just as they had been since the womb. It’s a beautiful thing that you even find yourself envious of from time to time. Bonds like theirs… It's something that doesn’t happen often. 
But that bond seems to come with a caveat for Jake – burdened with thinking of himself as the lesser twin. He’d always been the quiet one, happy to let Josh be in the spotlight and content to bask in the residual warmness of him. You doubt either of them are really even aware of the way Josh always seems to be the leader. It’s natural to them – something that Jake has never seemed to have a problem with before. Until you came along. 
“We aren’t. Nor do we plan on it. He’s my best friend, that’s all.” You tell him honestly.
“I know that now. Josh told me I was an idiot.”
You huff softly. He smiles tentatively in return. 
“He also told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and to listen to what you’ve been telling me this whole time.” 
You cock your head to the side, imagining the way Josh probably said the words. You can picture it – the little glimmer that undoubtedly took up residence in his eyes. He loves to play the wise sage. 
“And did you?” 
He nods his head. 
“I think so. That’s why I came tonight. To apologize. And to beg you to let me try again.”  
You sigh heavily, closing your eyes for a moment to listen to the rain tap against the glass. 
“Please.” 
You open your eyes to see that he’s come closer, those brown eyes of his boring into yours in a way that makes your knees weak. You’re fairly certain that those eyes will be the death of you some day. 
“You really hurt me, Jake. All those times that we spent time together… the things that I told you – things I’ve never told anyone before. And then you just-” You throw your hands up in defeat, words failing you. 
“I know what I did. And I am so so sorry, angel. I’m sorry for making you think that I could ever not want everything with you.” He sinks to his knees on the floor in front of the sofa, pleading eyes turned up to you.  
“Then tell me.” You demand. 
“I can’t.” 
“Jake…” You sigh, feeling your walls beginning to stand themselves up again. You’re so tired of waiting on him. 
“Wait!” He calls out sharply, the loudness of the word shocking the both of you. “Just…” He starts again, voice quiet again. “I need you to ask me first.” 
You want to deny him. To tell him to man up and just say it. But the way he’s looking at you, the way his shoulders have drooped in utter defeat… You can’t find it within your heart to deny him. 
“Are you in love with me?” The question escapes your lips soft and quiet – like a secret passed between friends. 
“Yes.” His answer is a prayer and you his savior – this room his confessional and you his altar. 
The air punches its way out of your lungs as his words register in your brain. Those words that you’d so desperately been wanting to hear. 
“I love you too.” The way your own confession slips past your lips without any thought makes his eyes light up – as if he couldn’t believe it until he heard the words from your own mouth. 
“Let me love you right.” He pleads, bringing his palms up to slide over your cloth-covered thighs. “Let me do this the way I should have the first time.” 
“Okay.” You whisper, reaching out for him like a small child. You want to feel him – all of him, for the first time. 
“Not here.” He says, rising from his knees and lacing his fingers with yours. “Your bedroom. Let me do it right, angel. Please.” 
Once again, you’re powerless to deny him so you rise to your feet and lead him into your bedroom. He presses your shoulders lightly, signaling for you to lay down. You relent, falling softly into the mattress. He climbs in after you, eyes glowing in the dim lamplight. The light spills from over the lampshade in the corner, bathing you both in warmth. It makes his hair reflect almost auburn as he hovers above you. The room is silent save for the distant rumble of thunder and the soft sound of your record player wafting in from the other room. Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. 
Keeping his eyes trained on yours, Jake hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, pausing momentarily as he waits for you to give him permission. You nod and he slides the fabric down your legs so that you can kick them off. His eyes sweep down your bare legs, lingering on your cotton panties and the ever-growing dark spot over your clothed pussy. His eyes stop at your knees, eyeing the bruises there. 
“Did I do this?” He asks forlornly, delicately tracing his thumb over the marks. 
You nod. 
“I wanted it, though. It’s okay.” 
He just shakes his head, pressing a featherlight kiss to each knee before sweeping his chocolate eyes back to yours. 
“It’s not.” 
There’s finality in his words. You don’t argue. Instead, you reach out for him, pulling him up towards you so that his weight settles on top of you, his knees pressed into the mattress between your legs. You unbutton his shirt slowly, reveling in each bit of tan skin it reveals. His necklace sways as he reaches back to toss his shirt to the floor. Your own shirt is next, leaving you in nothing but your panties and revealing your breasts to him and the cold air of the room. You’d opted to go braless since you got home and Jake seems more than appreciative. He stares at the hardened buds, licking his lips.  
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, palming your left breast in his calloused hand. It feels so good to have his touch on you and a whine spills out of you at the simple action. 
“So are you.” You tell him, reaching out once more to unbutton his pants. He slides the denim off himself, revealing his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers. You extend your hand to palm him through the material but he stops you. You flick your eyes up to him in question. 
“Not yet. I want to worship you first. The way you deserve.” 
He pulls your panties down your legs and a groan slips out of him at the sight of your glistening center. He’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You guess you are. 
Without warning, he dips his tongue through your folds, drawing a whiny cry from you. He dives into your aching pussy with what you can only describe as reverence, alternating between dipping the tip of his tongue into your slit and circling your swollen clit. The pace is maddening as he goes from fast to soft again, making you writhe on the bed with each pass of his talented tongue. 
“Oh, Jake.” You whine, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging. “That feels so good.” 
He moans at your praise and the vibration makes your legs quake and your thighs to clamp down around his head. 
“Please, Jake. More.” He answers your wanton cries immediately, pulling his face away from your dripping cunt and pressing a long, talented finger into you. He curls it upwards, brushing against that special spot inside of you. 
You arch your back, mouth dropping open in pleasure as he keeps his finger pumping in and out of you as he descends back down onto your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling. 
“Please. Oh fuck!” You cry, thrashing your head from side to side as the pleasure inside you begins to build. “Please!” 
“Shhh.” He shushes, rising from your heat momentarily. “You don’t have to beg, angel. I’ll get you there.” 
He dives back in and the sound that comes out of you barely sounds human. The band in your belly tightens and tightens as your orgasm draws nearer and nearer. You’re chanting his name between each moan and your whole body begins to quiver. 
“You’re so good, Jake. So good. Oh fuck!” 
At your words, Jake moans loudly into your pussy and curls his finger just right – sending you crashing into your orgasm. You writhe and pant, eyes screwing shut in pleasured agony. 
As your mind comes back to the present, you open your eyes to see Jake breathing heavily with a flush overtaking his bare chest. 
“Can I taste you?” You beg, pressing your thighs together to try and relieve the ache that has already returned despite your climax just moments before. 
“You don’t have to, baby.” He says with a lopsided smile, tracing delicate circles against the inside of your calf. 
“I want to. I want to make you feel good.” 
“You already did.” He says with a bashful smile and you notice now the wet patch darkening his boxers. 
“Oh.” You breathe out, another wave of wetness escaping you and making your thighs slick. 
“Couldn’t help it. You look so pretty like that, moaning my name and telling me how good you feel. You don’t- I wasn’t even expecting to cum tonight. I want this to be about you.” There’s only truth in his eyes. 
“Come here.” You tell him. 
He crawls up towards the head of the bed, settling in next to you as you toss one leg over his thighs to straddle him. 
“Do you trust me?” You whisper, leaning in close to him. 
“Of course.” He ghosts his lips over yours, drawing you downwards to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared before, desperate and anger-fueled. This one is soft – almost innocent if it weren’t for the lust coursing through the two of you. 
Once you pull away, licking your lips at the taste of him, you slide your body downwards and settle yourself between his legs. You mouth over his cock through the fabric of his boxers, his length already beginning to harden again. He whines softly, hands clenching in the sheets at his sides. 
You use your teeth to pull his boxers down, eyes not leaving his own until his cock reveals itself to you. Everything about Jake is pretty and his cock is no exception. It’s perfect. His head is flushed red and weeping where it rests against his naval and you can’t help but to reach out and wrap your fingers around him. He hisses at the feeling. You stroke him, smearing his precum around to slick the way as you begin to pump him slowly. 
Jake tosses his head back, plush lips falling open and melodic moans spilling from between them. His chest is flushed and sweat beads at his hairline, making his beautiful skin glow in the lamplight. You can’t help but to lean down and press a sweet kiss to his tip, then another down the side of him. Jake huffs a laugh. 
“What?” You ask him with a smile, continuing to stroke him lazily. 
“N-nothing.” He manages to get out, eyes fluttering almost shut. “You’re sweet.” 
“So are you.” You tell him before sinking your mouth down around him. 
He lets out a choked groan as his tip hits the back of your throat and his hips buck up off the bed. 
“Oh fuck!” He cries out as you hollow your cheeks and slide your mouth up his shaft, pressing your tongue into the spot just below the head. 
You bob up and down for a moment before he’s pulling himself from you and grabbing you to pull you up towards him. He crashes his lips against yours again, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You moan but he swallows the sound, delicately bringing his hands up to cup your face as he kisses you. 
“I need you inside me. Like, yesterday.” You tell him, earning yourself a sweet laugh. 
“Whatever you want, baby.”
He flips you over so that your back is pressed back into the mattress and you watch in rapt attention as he grips his hard cock, sliding his tip through your folds to gather your wetness. Finally, he sinks into you slowly, savoring every inch as he goes. 
You moan loudly as he finally bottoms out, halting his movements as you both revel in the feeling of being close again. 
“You feel so good, Y/n. I should have told you the first time how wonderful you are… how beautiful.” 
You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in closer to you and you both moan as his cock slips deeper into you. 
“It’s okay.” You tell him as he begins to rock into you – long, deliberate strokes that set your whole body aflame. “Fuck Jake, you feel so fucking good.” 
His hair tickles your face as he fucks into you but you can’t be bothered to move it. You’re consumed by the feeling of him – of his cock hitting you so perfectly, by the noises that fall out of him after each thrust, by the way his face twists in pleasure as your walls clench around him. It’s all too much and not enough and you reach out blindly to grip his shoulders, pulling his torso down so that you can capture his lips again. 
His lips are so soft as they move against yours and you can tell that he’s close already by the way his thrusts are growing sloppy and by the tremble of his shoulders. He’s holding back – waiting for your pleasure before he allows himself his. 
“You feel so good, Jake. So, so good.” 
“Yeah.” He whispers, bringing his hand up to swirl his tongue around the pad of his thumb before pressing it into your clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. “Tell me you’re mine, angel. Please.” 
Your back arches against your will as white hot bliss spreads through you, overtaking your body from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your mouth drops open and a loud whine escapes you as you try to form the words. 
“All yours, Jake. All yours.” You chant, digging your fingers into his biceps as your orgasm builds yet again. “Yours, baby.” 
He lets out a sound that almost sounds pained and his eyebrows pinch together as his thrusts grow faster and faster – the sound of his skin hitting yours and the slick squelch from between your legs filling the small bedroom. 
“W- fuck! Where?” He begs you, his whole body trembling.
“Inside! Fuck, Jake. Inside. Wanna feel it. Oh fuck!” 
He moans loudly as he finishes, painting your walls with his release and the sound of him is what drives you over the edge. Your release gushes out of you, drenching him in your pleasure as you both ride out your orgasms together. The world around you melts away to just you and him, blanketed in your pleasure and safe from everything else that threatens to come between you. It’s everything. 
When you both finally come back to yourselves, Jake slowly pulls himself from you before allowing his weight to settle on top of you completely. It’s silent. The rain outside has finally stopped. 
“I love you.” He murmurs into your sweaty skin, lips tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.
“I love you too.” 
-----
If you're reading this, I love you! 💗
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hubristicassholefight · 2 months
Text
Hubristic Asshole Fight: Round 1 Part 1b
Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) vs Feanor (The Silmarillion)
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Propaganda below cut
Anakin
Decided that he would become stronger than death to stop those he cares about from dying after failing to accept his mother's death. When he begins getting visions/nightmares like he had before losing his mother of his wife dying in childbirth, he decides to team up with an evil sorcerer and mastermind to learn the secret to stopping death. The price he willingly paid was leading the slaughter of the community of peacekeeping monks who had raised him from nine years old, feeling guilt about his heinous betrayal even as he unflichingly continued the massacre (sunk cost fallacy to a very extreme degree). The unintended price he paid was the loss of his limbs and independence after his injuries during a fight with his mentor and brother figure, his wife dying on childbirth due to the great stress of his heinous actions, and being separated from his children until they were adults firmly opposed to the imperial regime he became the attack dog for (only knowing of their survival until after he had personally attacked them both); He literally did not have to do any of that. his wife Padmè very very very very much did not want him to do any of that. He was completely absorbed in his own inability to deal with loss that he deadlock refused to consider losing family again and then he went and killed what amounted to his extended family, his wife and the man who raised and guided him from age 9. And his own kids unknowingly. In terms of accomplishing your goals there really really wasn't much more he could have fucked up. And when it comes down to key moments, all he had to do was not cut off mentor and co-worker Mace Windu's hand with a laser sword and everything would have been fine. He's a nominee for Fail King of All Time to me
He thinks he's hot shit which, he is, but like cool it dude you don't have to mass murder maim mutilate your way through life to prove you're the extra most specialest bestest psychic space wizard;
Hubrised so hard he 1) lost his limbs and his skin 2) became what he hated 3) caused the very death he sought to prevent, betraying and destroying himself for nothing; So soaking wet and self aware that he cried committing atrocities. If he knew what hubris was, he'd agree he has a lot of it
Feanor
The definition of hubris. Created the silmarils who were so perfect even the gods praised them. Got them stolen by the gods evil brother (so essentially fantasy satan). Then decided to go fight the evil god to get the silmarils back and swore an oath binding him and his sons to get them back no matter who would stand in their way. This drastically backfired when some other elves stood in his way so he murdered them. Got cursed by the gods for this (together with his entire family and everyone who followed them). Told the gods that they were of the same kind as fantasy satan and that they would end up following him
Morgoth (a god) shows up at his house and Feanor (professional hater of gods) tells him to get fucked* and slams the door in his face. *”Get thee gone from my gate thou jail-crow of Mandos!”; He has never spent anything wrong ever aside from all the war crimes.
The Valar (gods) asked Feanor for help in saving the world from being in total darkness and he said “no, figure it out yourselves”. Repeatedly and intentionally goes against their orders leading to war and chaos; I know it’s left open ended to what really happened to him after he died, but I hope he never repents. I hope he stays an antagonistic and egotistical bastard after being reimbodied (brought back to life) and continues to make it everyone else’s problem. I love him.
I’m gonna have to try to do this without a sing Tolkien scholarship words so bear with me. Basically my dude is one of the smartest and most talented elves in the world. Unfortunately he has a lot of daddy issues AND mommy issues largely due to the fact that his mom died when he was a kid and decided not to come back (as elves can do). No one else has this problem. He invented a ton of important stuff and had seven sons. His most prized creation was three gems called the Silmarils, which contained the light of the Two Trees, which gave light to the world before they were destroyed. When the Valar (the gods of Tolkien’s world) asked if they could use the Silmarils to potentially create another light source, he emphatically refused and in fact became so jealous of them that he and his sons swore an oath that anyone who so much as touched them would die by their swords. Sauron’s boss steals the gems and Feanor decides that he will lead his people on a crusade to retrieve and avenge them. This results in the death of him, most of his people, and almost his entire family minus one of his sons, Galadriel, and Elrond; He once yelled at the devil to get off his lawn
went to war with morgoth (satan basically) against the will of the gods and made a whole speech to said gods about how they were gonna feel really silly when he killed morgoth and saved the whole world. he never actually did battle with morgoth because he died on like day 1 of getting to middle earth (he left like 2/3 of his forces behind because he didn’t trust them) and spontaneously combusted upon his death; he’s a huge asshole and a mad scientist and linguist and prince with daddy issues and also mommy issues
Dude thought he could win a fight with the devil, tried to just walk into Angband (Mordor before Mordor actually existed), made an oath to kill everyone that tries to take his creations even the Valar (angelic like beings) and ends up causing his death, his sons deaths and a bunch of other deaths; His name is quite literally spirit of fire Is basically regarded as THE greastest elf Is in fact THE best smith of the elves and crafts their most precious jewels (that end up causing so much death) Is THE linguist to the point of creating the alfabet every one uses even after The Crimes, creates a bunch of things that are used even after The Crimes actually Loves his dad more than the things he made Is the only recorded elf with seven kids Is married to a sculpter that is so good that people confuse her statues as actual people (a propaganda because he had to be good to actually bag her you know) Manages to create jewelry so good even the the angelics beings sent by god are surprised he managed to do it So good at making speeches that it leads to a rebellion against said angelic beings and a lot of people to leave paradise with him His mother died because his spirit was too powerful Invented kinslaying after trying to steal some boats for said rebellion Swears an oath that destroys his whole family (but adds a great flavour to the rest of the story) Tells the devil to fuck off and slams his house door on said devils face Dies via auto combustion because his spirit was just too powerful for a normal death Gets stuck in the afterlife (that elves can usually just return from) for spiting the Valar Is said he will have an important role in Tolkien’s version of Ragnarok by letting the jewels he previously promised to kill for be destroyed to defeat the devil
Because of his pride, he went against the gods because the evil god Morgoth stole his life's work (the Silmarils, 3 shiny gems that radiated the light of the two trees that a huge evil spider had sapped dry). Swore (with his 7 sons) an oath to hunt Morgoth and retrieve his shiny gems. Commited kinslaying, burned some boats, combusted to ashes after suffering mortal wounds at the hands of corrupted demi-gods. Consequences of his actions could be seen long long after his death: the oath was passed on to his sons to hopelessly fulfill (failure after failure, including two more kinslayings, one of them casting himself into a fiery volcano, another wandering the shores for eternity);
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valacirya · 6 months
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Decided to make a post about how most (not all) of Thingol's actions that fans criticize were justified (or at least understandable) and in the interest of his people. I'd recommend checking out warrioreowynofrohan and imakemywings for far more comprehensive meta about the tall boi. Also, no quotes because I'm lazy, but all the canon I mention is from the published Silmarillion.
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1. Quenya ban
I've seen the Quenya ban be described as cultural genocide which icks me out. First of all, maybe don't use genocide to describe fictional characters in a fictional universe, especially when it's happening to real people and cultures. Second of all, that term is still inaccurate. Quenya was spoken in Gondolin, probably in Hithlum and Nargothrond too, and no one was punished for it. Earendil could speak Quenya. The Numenoreans could speak Quenya. Bilbo fucking Baggins could speak Quenya.
The ban was a nonviolent way for Thingol to enact some sort of consequence for the people who murdered his brother's people, stole their ships, and then took advantage of his hospitality while keeping this heinous secret. And it was a way to make sure that Sindarin remained the lingua franca of Beleriand, because the Noldor had already proven their disdain towards the Sindar and their intent to establish their own kingdoms. I think it was imakemywings who said that the ban was also a soft power move to show how all the Sindar who worked with/under the Noldor were still ultimately loyal to Thingol and would obey his decree.
So no, the Quenya ban was not racist or xenophobic or cultural genocide. Again, don't use those terms to describe fiction, and if you insist on doing so, at least look them up in the dictionary first.
2. Isolationism
No he wasn't. He was friends with the dwarves, the Laiquendi, and the Falathrim. He made a mutually beneficial alliance with the Haladin. He was rightfully wary of the (armed-to-the-teeth and hiding something) Noldor but even after he learns about the kinslaying he says he won't cut off relations with the Nolofinweans indefinitely because he recognizes that they're in the fight against Morgoth together.
The Girdle of Melian was only put in place after the first battle when Denethor was killed and it was absolutely the right decision strategically. Thingol knew immediately what it took the Noldor 400 years and countless deaths to understand: there was no defeating Morgoth without the Valar. So he took his people and anyone else who was willing, and he created a kingdom with a semblance of peace where they could thrive. Doriath was a fortress and a symbol of hope for Beleriand. As long as Doriath stood, Morgoth hadn't won completely. No one who cared about Beleriand would have sacrificed that hope for some fanciful ideals of vengeance and glory. And don't forget, he let Beleg and Mablung participate in the Nirnaeth. The fact that only those two went means that no one else in Doriath was willing to fight.
3. Maedhros's comment about a king is he who can hold his own
The arrogance. I'm sorry, Mr. I Got Fooled By Morgoth, were you able to hold your own? You'd be a skeleton hanging from a cliff if Fingon hadn't rescued you. Thingol was filling his armories while the Noldor were still chilling in Valinor. Thingol was battling Morgoth while the Noldor were betraying each other and abandoning their home. He literally said: "...elsewhere there are many of my people, and I would not have them restrained of their freedom, still less ousted from their homes." Those are the words of a king who feels responsible for the people outside of Doriath too. Also, check out the difference between Maedhros's "we'll go wherever we want" comment and Thingol's "I don't like them but they'll be the deadliest foes of Morgoth".
His decision to retreat and put up the Girdle was strategically sound. Many Laiquendi joined him after Denethor's death and the Falathrim came and went freely. He had a choice between spreading out his already depleted forces to help the northern Sindar/Falathrim (and likely get annihilated) or retreat, recover, and wait for a better opportunity (the arrival of the Noldor was not a better opportunity; like I said, he knew only the Valar could defeat Morgoth, and Melian also sensed the Doom). Again, Doriath was a symbol of hope. "Gondor wanes, you say. But Gondor stands." Its survival was essential.
4. Attitude towards Men
Look I'm not going to defend his less-than-stellar attitude, but I do think it's exaggerated by the fandom. Before Beren came, Thingol still agreed to let the Haladin dwell in his territory. He even sent the marchwardens to aid them against orcs. And the minute he realizes Beren's loyalty, bravery, and true love for Luthien, he changes and welcomes him (and also appreciates his humor). He treats Turin like a son, and honors and pities Hurin even when Hurin disrespects him. Turgon otoh refuses to let Hurin into Gondolin even though they were actually friends.
5. Didn't join the Union of Maedhros
See: reasons above. Doriath had to survive. Elves could not defeat Morgoth without the Valar. Also, afaik he didn't actually have an army, just the marchwardens and his guard. Also also, Maedhros had subtly threatened him, Celegorm and Curufin had openly threatened him, and this was after they kidnapped and tried to forcibly marry Luthien. Also also also, he "went not to war, nor any out of Doriath save Mablung and Beleg" meaning the general populace didn't want to fight either.
6. Didn't accept refugees
As far as I'm aware, this is completely fanon. The (Noldorin, just fyi) refugees of Nargothrond are accepted into Doriath, as are the Sindar after Bragollach. Curufin and Celegorm's people join Amrod in Ossiriand I believe after the Nirnaeth. There's no canonical basis for this claim.
7. Responsible for Finrod's death
Nah dude. I'm not saying he was right in setting the quest, it was absolutely a horrible quest. But Finrod decided of his own free will to help Beren. You can say that he wouldn't have died if Thingol hadn't set the quest, but that's like saying if Morgoth hadn't stolen the Silmarils, the kinslayings wouldn't have happened. Objectively true, but missing a whole lotta nuance and absolving the Feanorians of their culpability. And I'm not comparing Thingol with Morgoth so don't start.
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The criticisms I don't mention are the ones I agree with. He should have listened to Melian. He should have reasoned with the dwarves instead of insulting them; honestly, his death was pretty stupid. He probably should have been a little more willing to establish relations with the Nolofinweans, but I understand completely why he didn't. He definitely shouldn't have fucked with the Silmaril but tbh, that seemed like one of the parts where a bigger force was determining things, like it was written in the Music already, because that Silmaril did play a key role in Morgoth's defeat.
In conclusion: Thingol rocked, fandom shocked.
Obligatory disclaimer: I meant no offense to anybody, and everyone is entitled to hold their own opinion on the Silm and its characters.
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thelordofgifs · 13 days
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Friday Fic Recs: Long WIP edition
I’ve been thinking a little bit about the (very arduous) process of writing longfic, and how much of a difference support and cheerleading can make on that particular journey; so, although it’s been a while since I’ve made a Friday rec list, I thought I’d put one together celebrating all the incredible in-progress longfics in the Tolkien fandom I’m keeping up with at the moment!
Atandil series by @eilinelsghost. Such a gorgeous graceful moving exploration of Finrod and his relationship with Men, and the slowest and most sensual of slow burns in his romance with Bëor. The amount this series has made me THINK – about love, and hope, and memory, and Taliska grammar – is off the charts, and to top it off it’s written in the loveliest most Tolkienesque prose.
we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Ohh this AU is just like a warm gentle hug after a long day. The “kidnap fam but make it a classic children’s novel” concept is so so inspired, all the characterisations are so nuanced and moving (Maglor my beloved!!) and the OCs will steal your heart.
And Love Grew by @polutrope. On the other end of the kidnap fam spectrum, this complex and careful examination of the time after the Third Kinslaying is SO brilliant. Incredible characterisations of all the key players, some truly fascinating OCs (Dornil!!) and of course beautiful graceful prose.
tongues of the sky series by @welcomingdisaster. The first fic in this series, seabird, was written for me and I can be SO obnoxious about this :) but also it’s a wonderful moving ultimately hopeful fix-it AU with note-perfect russingon and m&m dynamics. The sequel, sparrowhawk, is currently in progress and soooo good.
ashes, ashes, dust to dust — the devil’s after both of us by @that-angry-noldo. This is SUCH an original and fascinating take on an AU where Maedhros and Maglor take Finarfin captive to bargain for the Silmarils, featuring incredible character dynamics and a terrifyingly eldritch Eönwë.
and all his towers cast down by @actual-bill-potts. What if Finrod survived the events of the Leithian? Well, angst and trauma, to start off with. And also beautiful beautiful writing, impeccable characterisation and a Maglor-Lúthien teamup!! I adore this AU.
All That Glitters Gold Rush AU series by @allthatglittersisnotgoldrush. This one is LONG LONG LONG, but also SO worth it. Ever wanted to see the entire Silmarillion retold as a western, complete with a terribly tragic and complicated Maedhros, Morgoth the terrifying slave-owner, and a beautifully multicultural Doriath? The authors have you covered.
And the Stars Shine the Same series by @runawaymun. OC-centric fic is such a rare delight and this series set in early Third Age Rivendell is just wonderful, tender and complicated and with a truly incredible Elrond.
Retelling the Hobbit comic by @retellingthehobbit. Something a little different, but I binged all of this comic retelling of The Hobbit on a plane recently and GOD it’s so so beautiful. A truly gorgeous art style, and slowly converting me from a Bilbo/Thorin sceptic into an enjoyer!
In Heart by @tanoraqui. An AU where Fëanor takes the Doom of the Noldor as a what-not-to-do manual and ends up making better choices! Featuring incredible worldbuilding and fantastic characterisation.
Please add on the longfics you love in the reblogs! Let’s get some love going for these difficult beasts!
(Couple of incest recs under the cut.)
naught green upon the oak series by @welcomingdisaster. A CoH-inspired Maedhros/Maglor AU in which Maglor winds up with amnesia after his encounter with Glaurung. I’m SO insane about this series that I can’t be coherent but it is fantastic and chilling and devastating with the most beautiful prose aahhh.
Strange Currencies by @jouissants. Maedhros is re-embodied at last only to learn that he is married to Maglor: a touching and painful post-canon fic interleaved with incredible flashbacks to the First Age.
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The latest bad take on Amazon’s Rings of Power is, “Rings of Power doesn’t contradict Tolkien’s canon, because there is no such thing as canon.”
I’ve seen more and more Rings of Power fans claiming that the show doesn’t go against canon because there are different versions of canon anyway, between The Silmarillion and the History of Middle-earth, and The Silmarillion wasn’t published by Tolkien, but by his son. They’re basically saying, “Canon? What canon?” And I just... No. The idea that “the show doesn’t go against canon because canon is so wishy-washy anyway” is SUCH a false argument to make.
Yes, Christopher Tolkien edited and published The Silmarillion after his father’s death. And yes, there are multiple conflicting versions of stories in The Silmarillion and HoMe. But that doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as being faithful to Tolkien’s stories. A lot of the choices Amazon has made in the show are completely wrong and would be wrong in any Tolkien adaptation.
The characterizations are totally off base. For heaven’s sake, hobbits wouldn’t abandon their own people on a journey. Elrond wouldn’t swear an oath like that. And the Númenoreans don’t hate Elves because Elves are stealing their jobs, they envy them for their immortality—it’s kind of the main theme of the Akallabêth. And, in the show, Galadriel—whose people were literally victims of the First Kinslaying—tries to steal a boat??? I mean, hello??????? Amazon hasn’t even tried to stay faithful Tolkien’s characterizations. Yes, adaptations usually take liberties with the source material, but holy shit.
And the very framing of fundamental issues is completely wrong. In the show, going to Valinor is portrayed as some sort of reward for valor in battle, which is not how it works in Tolkien’s books. The show also compressed the entire Second Age into a much shorter span of time, which is absurd and completely goes against what Tolkien wrote. The show glosses over the First Kinslaying, of course (I know it’s because they don’t have the rights, but it’s still their fault for mangling the story and themes), which makes it seem like the return of the Noldor to Middle-earth was some sort of righteous war, and it wasn’t. The list goes on and on.
And they can’t get basic details right, either. Obviously, the short-haired Elves are one example of this; so is the emblem that resembles a Fëanorian star on Galadriel’s armor. And it’s astounding how poorly the showrunners seem to understand the nuances of Tolkien’s names and constructed languages.
Tolkien was a linguist, and the languages he invented were extremely important to him and to his stories. So what did Amazon do? They completely ignored the internal logic of Tolkien’s secondary world. In The Silmarillion, Ar-Pharazôn banned Quenya in Númenor—but Amazon’s version of the character names his son a Quenya name. In the show, characters call Galadriel “Galadriel” even in Valinor, despite it being a Sindarin name given to her by her husband, Celeborn. It is anachronistic and inaccurate to refer to her by that name before Celeborn gives it to her, especially during the Years of the Trees when she didn’t even speak Sindarin. The show also gave one of the hobbits a Dwarven name, Nori, for no apparent reason. There are many more examples like this.
Amazon has also invented some things out of thin air that have no basis in Tolkien’s works at all. I understand that they had to invent original characters and storylines for this show. Inventing original characters could, in theory, work alongside canon instead of contradicting it, even though those characters aren’t found in Tolkien’s books. But mithril containing the light of a silmaril? What? And what’s with that weird bit where Amazon Elrond and Amazon Celebrimbor are talking about the silmarils and they say Morgoth cried when he looked at them and almost repented??? What the hell??? It makes no sense.
This is by no means an exhaustive list. The people who created this show have many many, many choices that completely fly in the face of Tolkien’s characterizations, worldbuilding, languages, and themes. (I haven’t watched Rings of Power and I don’t intend to, but this information is widely available if you read reviews and episode synopses.)
The show is also poorly written and ugly to look at, but that’s beside the point. The point of this post is just to say that no, just because there are multiple, conflicting versions of canon in The Silmarillion and HoMe doesn’t mean Amazon gets free reign to trample all over Tolkien’s stories. There is such a thing as making a faithful Tolkien adaptation, and this isn’t it.
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imakemywings · 7 months
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So Maeglin apparently was handsome af, popular, charismatic, and a close confidant of Turgon during his time in Gondolin. In fact, he was a lord and was close to Turgon's ear so he was heard more than Idril. I just wanna know why the fandom loves to portray him as this kid who was hated by everyone (he was not), whom Turgon hated (didn't Turgon love that kid so much?), and whose love for Idril was seen in a good light (when in fact, he was willing to kill earendil just to get Idril). I was honestly shocked when it was such a popular narrative that he was being abused and hated pretty much by everyone in Gondolin and he didn't mean to cause the fall of Gondolin because he was a poor mew mew when the real poor mew mew was Turgon for listening to him in the first place. Lmao I was just genuinely shocked when it was the other way around. I like his character, he's interesting and complex but it kinda takes away the complexity of his character when he is being woobify but that's just me. What do you think?
Anon, idk if you looked at my blog and could tell I would be receptive to these takes, or if you just happen to keep landing on things I agree with XD
But yeah, I have thoughts on Maeglin's reception by the fandom and it's mostly in agreement with what you said.
With Maeglin, he is sympathetic in a lot of ways, which makes you want to root for him. He did have a difficult childhood--Eol was a shithead spouse so it's not hard to imagine he was not a great father either. Maeglin grew up almost totally isolated from anyone but his mom and dad, who did not have a good relationship, thanks to his dad's abuse. When he and Aredhel make a run for it, we want them to succeed! We want good things for them (we've been rooting for Aredhel since the beginning of the chapter)! When Maeglin witnesses his father kill his mother in an effort to kill him, we want him to find peace and security in Gondolin.
The thing is--Maeglin grows well past his difficult childhood. As you noted, Maeglin does very well for himself in Gondolin. At the end of the chapter Of Maeglin, it is described how he "grew great among the Gondolindrim" and there are various indications he was generally trusted and well-liked.
"Thus all seemed well with the fortunes of Maeglin, who had risen to be mighty among the princes of the Noldor..." ("Of Maeglin," The Silmarillion)
At this point, this is we want for him! We like the idea that he's shrugged off his past, that he's doing well, and that he's not like his creepy bride-abducting father.
We don't get much in Silm about what Maeglin's relationship with Turgon is like, but I talked here about why I can't buy that Turgon neglected or abused Maeglin.
"Then the King listened with wonder to all that Aredhel had to tell; and he looked with liking upon Maeglin his sister-son, seeing in him one worthy to be accounted among the princes of the Noldor. 'I rejoice indeed that Ar-Feiniel has returned to Gondolin,' he said, 'and now more fair again shall my city seem than in the days when I deemed her lost. And Maeglin shall have the highest honor in my realm.'" ("Of Maeglin," The Silmarillion)
The only fly in that pudding is that he and Idril get off to a bad start which never improves. He's into her, she's not into him, but he can't let it go. He lets it fester and generate anger, jealousy, and hatred, and in this way, he's like so many creepy guys who can't take rejection.
"But as the years passed, still Maeglin watched Idril, and waited, and his love turned to darkness in his heart. And he sought the more to have his will in other matters, shirking no toil or burden, if he might thereby have power." ("Of Maeglin," The Silmarillion)
But even so, Maeglin is trusted by Turgon! He's popular! He has his own craft and people who admire and follow his ideas! In almost every way, Maeglin should be happy. But he cannot stop obsessing over Idril, and he lets that spoil everything else that he's achieved, to the point where he's wiling to betray the entire city to possess her.
I think there's also a disconnect between those who've read The Fall of Gondolin and those who haven't, because TFOG expands on a lot of things only really hinted at in Silm proper. For instance, the attempted murder of Earendil (who, it should be noted, is seven years old during the sack of Gondolin). In Silm, we get this:
"Tuor sought to rescue Idril from the sack of the city, but Maeglin had laid hands on her, and on Earendil; and Tuor fought with Maeglin on the walls, and cast him far out..." ("Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin," The Silmarillion)
In The Fall of Gondolin, we get a much more detailed account:
"Messengers by great stealth he had dispatched to Melko[r] to set a guard about the outer issue of that Way when the assault was made; but he himself thought now to take Earendil and cast him into the fire beneath the walls, and seizing Idril he would constrain her to guide him to the secrets of the passage, that he might win out of this terror of fire and slaughter and drag her withal along with him to the lands of Melko[r]... Now then M[a]eglin had Idril by the hair and sought to drag her to the battlements out of cruelty of heart, that she might see the fall of Earendil to the flames...When M[a]eglin saw [Tuor] he would stab Earendil with a short knife he had...the mail of the small coat turned the blade aside; and thereupon Tuor was upon him and his wrath was terrible to see." ("The Original Tale," The Fall of Gondolin)
In TFOG, Maeglin's malice is even more apparent as we get a blow-by-blow account of his effort to force Idril to watch him kill her child and then drag her to Angband, but even looking exclusively at canon Silm, Maeglin clearly swings into the villain path. I don't like to criticize him too much for caving under Melkor's threats, because being threatened with torture by Melkor would be fucking terrifying and I don't think any of us can say for certain how we would respond in that kind of situation. Tolkien even tells us Maeglin wasn't a coward, but Melkor is Melkor. Not everyone can be Hurin "Noted Badass and Snarkmaster" Thalion. What I am happy to criticize him relentlessly on is that he allows Melkor's plan to move forward.
"But Morgoth sent him [Maeglin] back to Gondolin, lest any should suspect the betrayal, and so that Maeglin should aid the assault from within, when the hour came; and he abode in the halls of the King with smiling face and evil heart..." ("Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin," The Silmarillion)
He never warns the Gondolindrim of what's coming, and in fact he encourages Turgon to refuse Ulmo's advice and stay in the city (where Melkor expects them to be). In TFOG, when Melkor does invade, Maeglin and his house fight on Melkor's side.
Maeglin fucked up by selling the city out, no argument. But it's more than that--he could have tried to fix it. But he doesn't. Because? Because he doesn't want his treachery revealed, and because Melkor promised him possession of Idril if he helped.
"Great indeed was the joy of Morgoth, and to Maeglin he promised the lordship of Gondolin as his vassal, and the possession of Idril Celebrindal, when the city should be taken; and indeed desire for Idril and hatred for Tuor led Maeglin the easier to his treachery, most infamous in all the histories of the Elder Days." ( "Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin," The Silmarillion)
People resist the narrative of Maeglin the villain I think because they are still in phase 1 where we want good things for Maeglin and for him to overcome his past. And he does...but then he chooses his own shitty path and throws away all the things he gained because he can't be content without everything that he wants, which includes Idril. Making all Maeglin's bad choices someone else's fault--Idril's for rejecting his advances, Aredhel or Eol for parenting him wrong, Turgon for not understanding him, Tuor for who knows--means not having to acknowledge Maeglin chose to become the person who betrayed Gondolin and tried to murder his family.
"Then the heart of Idril was turned towards [Tuor], and his to hear; and Maeglin's secret hatred grew ever greater, for he desired above all things to possess her, the only heir to the King of Gondolin." ("Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin," The Silmarillion)
Maeglin's story is a tragedy of someone consumed with their own malcontent, someone who had so much opportunity to be happy but chose to perserverate on the things he couldn't have, who became so obsessed with his own desires that he was willing to hurt everyone around him to get what he wanted. Maeglin's story is of a man who could not handle rejection by a woman he wanted, so he decided to ruin her life and kill her family. Maeglin begins the story as someone we are meant to sympathize with--but he doesn't end it that way.
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spiritofwhitefire · 2 months
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Has anything ever gone harder than “him fate awaited with fell purpose”? I don’t think so. Because right off the bat before you even know anything about the story or where it’s going or who this character is you are basically told that he has a bad ending. That bad things are going to happen to this character. So as a reader every time something good happens on the page to this character or he has a triumphant moment you will be reminded of that quote at the BEGINNING: fate awaits him with fell purpose. There is something bad coming.
Which is also kind of tricky because the big thing that happens to this character early on is that he gets tortured for 30 years. Could that be the bad thing that’s going to happen to him? But he’s rescued! He recovers! So something else must be coming.
And another hint we get is that he “burns more brightly than his father’s flame”. He’s powerful, not a passive character. He had it in him to surpass his father whose decisions ended up cursing his people. So this bad thing that is going to happen to this character… it might be something bad that he HIMSELF does (obviously I’m going about this as if I know nothing about the silmarillion).
But we don’t know, we just have that like haunting the narrative for the entire book, throughout all of maedhros’ “deeds of surpassing valour”, throughout all his triumph and healing…. Something bad is coming.
So that by the time that maedhros assaults doriath and Sirion and becomes a secondary villain, we know we were warned, we knew this was coming. And I feel like that makes it even more tragic
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aldarquen · 9 months
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Silmarillion Characters as things my friends have said on Camp Staff (Part 6!)
(tag yourself, I’m Maglor)
Celegorm: “I bring a sort of opening the van doors vibe the other passengers don’t appreciate.” Annatar: “Did you guys have any spiders in your shower?” Celebrimbor: “Not a spider, but a  c r e a t u r e.” Annatar: “Calling me a creature is hurtful.” Beren (scared shitless): “OMG! Why the fuck are you up there?” Luthien: *in rafters* “I just like climbing things.” Amras: “Anyone wanna sacrifice their technology so we can pirate The Lorax?” Haleth: “I know the best place for cider doughnuts. Wanna come?” Caranthir: “Ya know what? Sure. Fuck this place.” Radagast: “What did you get kicked out of Arby’s for man?” Saruman: “Too much wizardry!” Radagast: “What does that mean?” Saruman: “Magical spells, sorcery, the conjuring of others’ wallets!”
Old Hurin: “My bones and joints are making the Lego brick breaking noise…”
Curufin: “Look at him: passed tf out.” Maedhros: *deeply asleep*
Celegorm: “I’m gonna touch his Adam’s Apple!” Maglor (talking about Maedhros): “He’s going to fuck you up!” Fingon: *whispers to Maglor, giggles* Maglor: “That’s a tad bit too horny!" Maedhros: “He has as much depth as a saltine cracker ” Maedhros: “If he was a spice he’d be flour” Annatar: “I’m off to steal things” Celebrimbor: “Can you steal my heart?”
Maglor: “Ya talk mad shit for a bitch in kazooing distance.”
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