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doodle-pops · 10 months

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Tales of the Heart

Finarfin x mortal!reader

Request: Boyah!!! ♥️♥️ So happy requests re open!! ♥️ Could I please request Finarfin x human!reader? Perhaps after the final battle, he decides to see ME with his own eyes :') but he is a bit lost, the change it too much ! So the reader finds him and helps him thru his stay :") and sun fluffy romance!! 🤲♥️ — @noldorinpainter

A/N: When I say that I enjoyed writing this, I most absolutely did! This was my first official Finarfin request and it was so fluffy and sweet! Thank you for the request. I got to write a soft and flirty Finarfin and I was squealing. Thank you for increasing Finarfin content.

Warnings: none, nothing but absolute fluff and a flirty Finarfin shooting his shot

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: As the War of Wrath came to an end, Finarfin decided to explore the beauty of Middle Earth. Instead, he discovered another form of beauty, becoming enthralled.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The sound of streams rushing vigorously echoed to his right as his foot crossed a maple vine. Animals were scurrying across the forest floor the further he wandered into the forest. Though it was creepier than what he remembered during his childhood days in Valinor, it appeared much livelier now that the war was over, and the majority of the evil had fled.

The squawking and singing of birds overhead and in the canopy and buzzing of insects filled his head with safe sounds compared to the reoccurring sound of metal clashing. The melody was sweeter than the memories of the horrors of the great war. His said reason for escaping the confinements of the camp during nightfall left him to wander until the sun raised on him.

Anor’s rays were caught in his mess of golden ringlets which was designed into a messy bun with tresses still falling out—something to keep the humidity under control. Worrying about his troupes and the others was the least of his concerns; he wanted to explore the lands his father originated. The stories of fighting wild beasts—well that part was already explored—and travelling the distant lands, over the mountain and yonder filled his heart with exhilaration.

Making turns at all different angles and parts, following blinding trails and the forest beasts to wherever they may lead him, having a guide in this new land simply slipped the High King’s mind. His heart contained too much anticipation to learn what was around the river bend or above the canopy of the tallest tree. For a moment, he felt like his little boy when he was in his youthful years. Dragging and tugging at his arms to show him a mud puddle or spider forming its webs. Now he understood who and where Finrod's the enthusiasm resonated from.

Wandering for over twenty minutes, pushing himself deeper into the woods, the idea of handing his hand on the hilt of his sword was faint. All the evil was pushed back to the outer skirts of the land, surely he couldn’t have covered grounds that rapidly. However, he found his left hand sliding up his thigh to comfortably settle on the hilt of his sword. His grip was loose, easy to tighten in a flash if required, positive that the looming eerie sensation was no danger, but rather…uncommon. A concoction of excitement and curiosity overtook his body and urged him to walk forward, overstepping the squirrels that scurried about his feet.

What lay before him was an image he believed to only exist in a land like Araman, nowhere else had the capacity to withhold a beautiful sight. The freshness and holiness of the atmosphere were light and enchanting as if it was untouched by the creatures of the land, save for the animals. It was there his eyes landed on the stream his ears had the fortunate pleasure of listening to. The bubbles of happiness the running water echoed flooded through the roots of a maple tree whose roots formed an archway over the stream. Its roots were planted deeply, and its foundation was firm for the smaller creatures to gather in unity and live. Currently, its leaves were still green, signalling that autumn was far away from stealing its youth.

The exhilarating sensation was still bubbling in his chest when his foot landed in the enclosure and touched the grass. He felt like it was a crime to enter the area clad in his boots. Toes melting into the grass, he sighed blissfully at the warmth the earth provided. Middle Earth isn’t as terrible as I believed it to be after all! At this point, the dangers that could present themselves during this moment were long forgotten as his eyes took in the serenity the land offered.

Laughter had bubbled up his throat and slipped past his lips when a pair of blue jay swooped down from their nest and fluttered around him, singing their morning song. Anor’s rays were still scattered throughout the trees, yet to peak the canopy. Lifting his hand for the birds to land as he assumed it was their intention, the sound of another bird breaks his concentration.

“They seem to like you, well, of course, they would. You’re an elf, all animals tend to flock to your kind with ease.” You were sitting on the opposite side of the maple tree, hidden from his eyes, but audible to his ears. They cocked in the direction your voice echoed and his head automatically craned to view the owner of the voice with curious eyes.

The birds perched on his arm were long forgotten. You had taken the stoplight and captured his attention. Were you a fellow elf or perhaps half-elven as he had come to learn existed. He had met the Edains…who were highly indifferent to his kind. Many qualities were noticeable to differentiate elves from men, so surely, you were on the elven side. But…of course, they would. You’re an elf, an elf wouldn’t make such a statement. You were mortal.

“…Would you be so kind as to reveal yourself, that way I can know who I am about to host a conversation with?” He attempted to hide his commanding nature and royal assertiveness, not wanting to scare you or propose the assumption that you were being forced. Though, he wanted to be a bit commanding, desperate to meet the face of this cheerful voice.

The sound of a book shutting, and clothes crumpling resonated behind the tree and prompted him to shuffle his bare feet across the grass the view you before you could present yourself. What, or as a matter of fact, who he saw, surprised him. Mortals weren’t known for their exquisite form of beauty, but for certain, you surely must have been. The way your hair moved with you as you arose, swishing and curling with your body and wind, was enthralling. Your much smaller figure still held grace and agility that was comparable to the elves. Even your voice reflected the beauty that the elves were known for displaying. Mortal or not, there had to be a trace of elven blood somewhere.

Finarfin gawked, unconsciously, while you ushered yourself off the ground and encircled the tree to prevent stepping over the larger and more complicated roots. More to avoid embarrassment before an otherworldly creature. The corners of his lips were upturned, and his eyes softened as you bounded over to his taller figure without an ounce of fear. That brought some sense of relief to his erratic heart.

“Greetings My Lord, may a star shine upon our meeting.” You greeted him formally with the extension of your hand from your heart to him. His eyes widened unexpectedly and his lips parted to inhale. While the High King received the greeting from the other Edains upon meeting them for their war meetings, there was something different about yours. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but it provided some volume of pleasure.

Being in a distant land for what was considered a few years, his interest in learning the mortal tongue fluctuated due to their ability to communicate in his. While he knew their tongue, the memories of the language were hidden away at the back of his mind. Finarfin’s turmoil began the longer he stood there gawking at you, blue jays already flown away and hand limp at his side, dying to respond. For a moment, he forgot all knowledge of the proper sequence of hosting a conversation, but that was not the reason for his hindrance.

His heart thumped like a hummingbird as warmth filled his skin. He knew it was not the sun, it was still at its 8 o’clock angle. The increase of air in his lungs, the rush of blood flowing under his skin, the lightness of his body, the chorus his fёa sang, Finarfin knew exactly what it meant. It was the last thing on his mind he would ever expect to re-experience again, let alone, here in a foreign land. Loneliness was forgotten and had never felt so foreign and unnerving now that he stood face-to-face in your presence.

What would the Valar say if he offered to return home with you? Did you even feel what he felt?

“Apologies for my…silence…uhh. Might I know your name?” He quickly asked to prevent you from being swayed by his lack of response. When was the last time I had ever attempted to swoon someone? Ah yes, since then…

The memory wasn’t merry to remember. It stung him twice.

“Y/N, My Lord! My name is Y/N,” you exclaimed. “Might I have to honour of knowing yours?”

A name so unusual and unheard off was the epitome of a rare jewel; his mind could never comprehend or imagine such a beauty. Though, he could see the way you peered up at his majestic figure, enthralled the moment you were caught by his welcoming smile and softened electric blue eyes. Knowing the effect of his beauty on others became normality, but when it was you who was affected, his composure was slowly chipping away behind the sole of his feet. Being bare feet on the grass was probably a terrible idea, any moment he could lose his barring and fall harder.

“Arafinwe, my dear,” he politely answered, struggling to keep his the frequency of his voice stable. The hand that once gripped the hilt of his sword reached out and lifted your dainty fingers, over your head, to meet his soft lips (he hoped they were soft enough) and enthral you more.

His ears picked up the faint gasp and his fingers detected the skip in your pulse at the contact. He still had it in him to place his effective charming spell over you.

“Y-Your name…it is unusual to my ears. Very different from the Sindar and the Noldor. Are you perhaps a Moriquendi?” Your question would have offended another whose natural instincts were to shun the rejected race and prideful boost of theirs, but Finarfin knew there were no negative intents behind your curiosity. Like any charmed person, he would enlighten you.

“No, my dear. Noldorin I am, and from across the sea, I came to like those you know. However, my name remains unchanged and dwells in the language of the High Elves, Quenya,” he spoke. A voice like honey, rich and heavy, luring you in with positive intentions to savour more. A taste unlike any other you had ever sampled. Your folks told tales of the Edain who fell for the elf-maiden, fairest of all them all in face and voice, and you wanted to protest against that saying. He was the fairest of them all. Never had a voice like his make butterflies erupt.

“Ah, well that would explain your…accent, it is different from those who speak my tongue,” you stated.

Humming in a sing-song manner, he beamed. “Indeed it is. I have not developed the proper speech technique? …no, forgive me, phonetics of your language. I recently arrived.” He was still holding your hand in his, knowing that he needed to return it, but refusing to part from your touch. Finarfin was like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Then that means you are the elves who came to assist us in battle?! It is you, along with the King, from across the sea who won us the war and brought peace to our land?!”

“The stories have already spread? It has only been a month since the war ended,” he laughed enthusiastically and was intrigued to learn what you might have heard about him. “What have they said about the King?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed at the sudden pique in his interest. “Well, they said that it was he who won the war and defeated the great Dark Lord, driving him and his foul creatures from the land. He fought valiantly and fiercely, with the heart and strength of a lion.”

His heart fluttered at the impression the folks had on him, yet, he wanted to know what you thought of him.

Dropping his hand while maintaining his grip around your fragile fingers as he had come to understand about the Edain. Such delicate creatures you were, much need of care and protection would be required.

“And…what do you think of the King?” he peered, desperate to flutter his heart at your opinion of him. A start to understanding how you saw him through your eyes. A start to rekindle the fire in his heart.

“Well, My Lord…” you pondered. “I cannot say what I think of him for I have never met nor seen him. But I can say that he must be kind, strong and fierce to have led his troupes into battle and win.”

The smile on his face grew from your modesty. You were remarkably wonderful in the short moment he grew to know you. His ego was flaring up at the praises you threw innocently at him. Anyone else who praised him, and it would have been common knowledge from then, but you made a repetitive compliment sound like a prize. What other words could he successfully pry from your honeyed lips?

Turning his head up to the sky, the sun had already peaked and cast its noonday shadows. When did time fly this quickly? Did you cast and enchanting spell upon me? I surely do not mind. His troupes would be out searching for him, an interruption he refused to accept. If he stayed here, they would find him in a matter of hours, but of course, there were ways to evade unwanted interruptions.

“And what if I revealed to you that I am the Noldóran, the King, you speak of, will you continue to keep me company?” he teased. It was long since he felt the need to tease anyone. Not even his nephews he reunited with and he used to playfully tease as children could he attempt to taunt.

His heart was yearning for company…companionship, and you were giving him a sense of hope. Yet to truly understand and grasp the untold truth of the Edains, or perhaps like every other elf before him who did, he ignored it to fill the empty gap in his heart. When the time was right, what pain and suffering he had to experience, he would deal with it as such.

Appalled by his boldness, you stuttered, stunned, “T-The King? You are the King, Arafinwe…your Majesty? Why would you be out here conversing with me and not in the safety of your people?”

Chuckling while lifting his other hand to encompass the one holding yours, he held it between you both. Despite the great height difference between you two, looking down lacked discomfort. There was more mirth and dynamism the longer he locked his gaze with yours. He could see the way your cheeks became swollen and lifted to present your bashfulness and enthrallment to him. It was endearing to learn that he still had the effects he once possessed.

“The beauty of the land was calling to me, and I could not resist. So I came looking, and I was entranced when I discovered that it was you, beckoning to me,” he whispered delicately as though he was citing a soliloquy. “I do not wish to part from you so soon, I still have much to learn, and your company would be splendid.”

Falling speechless at his poetry, none which you ever heard from the elves, dwarves and men have ever sounded as sophisticated and eloquent as his. He was purposefully melting your insides a caramel. Looking up at his marvellously heightened figure, he appeared taller than most of the elves you witnessed. His aura was radiant and compelling.

“My King…surely you do not mean that. I am mortal and you, an elf. It is unlikely between us.”

“If it is unlikely, then why is my heart racing this instant as we speak?” His heart sped up and then clenched at the partial rejection. Never before had Finarfin felt the dire urge to act so direct. Affairs of the heart were always a dangerous situation to be caught in, and this was different from any he had experienced. “But, if that is what you wish, then I would respectfully understand and part ways, but if not, I will pursue no matter what they say.” But my heart would ache and cry for you.

Even you felt a pang in your heart at his sullen state of dejection. “…It is not every day you meet an elf who wishes to fancy you. Mayhaps we become a successful story to the others before us?” you breathed. “So how might I, a mortal, keep His Majesty company if he wishes it?”

“Ay, we can indeed,” he replied with little to no knowledge of the tragedies that couples like him and you faced, but eager was his heart and fëa to love again. He would put his affections and courage to the test to love you. “Arafinwe, my dear. And a tour of the area would be pleasing; that way I can find you easily when I wish to reunite with you again,” he smirked.

Shyly nodding and biting your lip, you hid your growing flustered state and mumbled, “Then I would be honoured to give you a tour to meet again…soon, Arafinwe.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

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koyunsoncizeri · 1 year

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Today a lil different post ! I will soon be uploading these patterns to Patreon (tier1) as PNG files, so they can be used in drawings easily !

Examples above ! With 2 Fingolfins and 1 Finarfin as a trial and they indeed work :')

If there is enough interest, I will create/upload patterns to Patreon 4-5 pieces montly :') <3

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #finarfin #fingolfin #nolofinwe #arafinwë

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tuilere · 8 months

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Sticky note Finarfin

#these r fun im gonna keep making them #finarfin #arafinwë #silmarillion #tolkien #traditional art

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camille-lachenille · 5 months

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Indis and Nerdanel being pregnant at the same time and Indis giving Nerdanel pregnancy and parenting tips. Fëanor being unbearably smug Maitimo was born three days before Arafinwë and Finwë organising playdates between his youngest son and first grandson and spoiling them so much.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #nerdanel #indis #fëanor #maedhros #maitimo #arafinwë #finarfin #finwë #headcanon

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lovefairymina · 1 month

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*wraps arms around Finarfin*

"Arafinwe, do you think I'm pretty enough to marry someone like you?"

Smirking as a playful idea came across his mind, he dramatically sighed, “I don’t know... The idea of someone fairer than I wanting to marry me is quite threatening. That means there’ll be two pretty people in this relationship or I’ll have to give up my pretty title to you so we can get married...”

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {finarfin}#finarfin x you #finarfin x y/n #finarfin imagine #finarfin #arafinwe #arafinwë #ingoldo #arafinweans #house of finarfin #silm imagines #middle earth imagine

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a-happy-artist · 3 months

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Finarfin & little Finrod

#finarfin #finrod #finrod felagund #finarfin fanart #finrod fanart #arafinwe #arafinwë #arafinweans #arafinwe fanart #tolkien fanart #fanart #silmarillion fanart #silmarillion #silm art #finarfin and finrod #findaráto

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sillysistersusi · 2 months

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Understanding

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Summary: In his wildest dreams, Fëanáro would never have thought that he would end up asking Arafinwë for help with his children, but apparently it had come to this.

Or: Fëanor knows that Caranthir thinks he is the untalented one of all his brother and he also knows Finarfin feels a similar way. So he asks his brother to talk to his son. (Featuring little Celegorm at the end)

Warnings: self doubts, a little angst

In his wildest dreams, Fëanáro would never have thought that he would end up asking Arafinwë for help with his children, but apparently it had come to this.

Arafinwë had not looked mildly surprised when Fëanáro had come to him one afternoon and said, "I need your help."

Arafinwë had stood there perplexed, staring at him for a while, and it had caused a pain in Fëanáro that he had never known before. His thoughts had wandered to his sons and how lovingly Maitimo, the eldest, cared for the others. He had thought of Maglor singing to the little twins every night or how protective Tyelkormo had been of Curufinwë before he had been able to defend himself.

He could have been just that to Arafinwë. Fëanáro could have been a big brother.

Instead, his little brother stared at him as if he had never in his life expected Fëanáro to even think about visiting him and for a brief moment Fëanáro felt the need to hug Arafinwë, but then he caught himself. He wasn't here to make up for past mistakes, he was here to help his wonderful Carnistir, and he couldn't do that if he was wallowing in dreams of what might have been.

It took a while, but eventually Arafinwë caught himself and stepped aside. "Why do you not come in first, Náro?" he asked, stepping aside.

The nickname Arafinwë used for him when he spoke lacked any gentleness in tone that it had when he said 'Ñolo', but Fëanáro knew that he could not blame him. Arafinwë was still young himself, not even as old as his Maitimo, and so far Fëanáro had always sought distance.

And so it came that they sat opposite each other in awkward silence, drinking tea.

At some point, Arafinwë cleared his throat as he could no longer bear the silence. "What is it that you are asking me to do, Náro?"

"Why do you think I came here to ask for a favor?" Fëanáro asked before he could stop himself. Because it hurt that his little brother thought he would only visit him when he wanted something from him.

'But he is right,' said a quiet voice in the back of his head.

Arafinwë shrugged slightly before saying, "You said you needed my help."

"Oh." Fëanáro said involuntarily and felt uncomfortable. Had it been this warm the whole time?

"So?" Arafinwë asked and raised his eyebrows, looking so much like Ñolofinwë that Fëanáro would have liked to laugh. But he didn't.

Arafinwë's raised eyebrows, however, looked less superior and carried with them a certain insecurity that Fëanáro would probably have missed if he would not sometimes see a similar insecurity in Carnistir. He did however not try to cover it up with feigned superiority, which he had learnt from his big brother, like Arafinwë, but hid it with anger and silence. But Fëanáro recognised the insecurity that lay beneath the red cheeks of his still so young son. He knew this insecurity himself, but his own had stemmed from the death of his Ammē, while Carnistir's had a different source. Fëanáro could not understand the pain of his Morifinwë, but he could try to help in other ways which was why he had come to Arafinwë.

But Arafinwë's raised eyebrows actually looked less and less like Ñolofinwë's the longer Fëanáro looked at them. Ñolofinwë's always looked icy, sometimes even amused. Arafinwës looked, and Fëanáro couldn't think of a better description, like a light spring breeze. So gentle and vulnerable. Fëanáro would have liked to shake him, to tell him not to show himself so vulnerable or someone would use his tenderness against him, but he did not.

Fëanáro sighed, "You are the untalented and unloved Finwë."

As soon as he had spoken these words, any gentle expression on Arafinwë's face disappeared and Fëanáro saw tears welling up in his little brother's eyes.

Carefully, Fëanáro bent down and took the small teacup from Arafinwë's trembling fingers before he could drop it.

"I do not mean that maliciously or insultingly, because in my eyes you are not... Ara." he added, trying to use the voice he always spoke to Tyelkormo with when he asked him not to take any wild animals from the forest home as 'pets' again. "But I know you think that of yourself."

Arafinwë lowered his eyes, but immediately Fëanáro reached out his hand again, placing two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at him again. "And my Carnistir thinks he is the untalented and ugly Fëanorian. I can reassure him all I want, but I do not understand his feelings, so I wanted to ask you to maybe talk to him about it."

"Did you mean what you just said?" Arafinwë asked quietly. "That I am not... "

He pressed his lips together into a thin line.

Fëanáro nodded. "You are not untalented, just differently talented. You are gentle in a way none of us are. And you smile at everyone, no matter how little they deserve it. And being kind and friendly in that way is a talent that few possess." He took his fingers from Arafinwë's chin, only to brush one of his golden curls behind his pointed ear. "You- you are better than I could ever be."

It took him a great deal of effort to utter these words. He had known for a long time that this was the truth, but he had never thought he would admit it. But this was about Morifinwë and Fëanáro had also known for a long time that he was prepared to swallow his own pride for his children. Why else would he be so nice to Ñolofinwë whenever he and his children visited them? Maitimo and Findékano had been practically inseparable since the first time they had met, and Írissë' was more or less glued to Tyelkormo and Curufinwë.

"And neither is Carnistir untalented or ugly, but I have trouble making him understand that, so I have come to ask for your help. "Fëanáro sighed again, but this time because he felt strangely lighter.

Arafinwë smiled gently. "I will try, but I can make no promises. For as we are similar in our destinies to be the outsiders, so we are different in spirit. Carnistir is short tempered and one might almost say shy, I am not, or at least that is what I would say of myself. But I can try to talk to him."

"That is all I could ask of you," Fëanáro said, a note of gratitude in his voice that caught Arafinwë's attention, as he had never heard it before. "Indeed, I ask you for too much already, Ara. I was never- I was never the brother I should have been and that thought alone is a deep wound in my heart to this day. I hope we can overcome this hurdle one day."

Arafinwë nodded. "That would be nice Náro." Then he smiled a little mischievously. "Will you also apologise to Ñolo for always being so cold towards him?"

Fëanáro grimaced and mumbled through clenched teeth. "I guess I have to."

Arafinwë laughed softly.

~•~

Carnistir had not expected visitors, but he had certainly not expected his uncle Arafinwë. His Atar was not as close to his brothers as he and his brothers were, so they rarely came to visit them.

And when they did, Carnistir was rarely if ever the person they came for. He always told himself that he didn't mind. That he had got used to being the unwanted one, but that wasn't true. Deep inside him an emptiness had spread when he had realised that even little Curufinwë was more talented than he was.

So he had withdrawn from his brothers, as they would leave him behind one day anyway. They would always shine in the bright light while he would stay behind in the shadow.

Carnistir couldn't remember the last time he had hugged one of them, but he didn't think they noticed. They were far too busy with their tasks and themselves to notice that Carnistir was drowning in the burden of his own existence.

No, when Ñolofinwë came by, it was because Findékano or Írissë wanted to play with Maitimo, Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, or because he was making another attempt to convince his Atar that they were a family.

Arafinwë came even less often, Carnistir thought he was a little afraid of his atar, even if he didn't understand why, because his atar was nice, and when he came he usually only spoke to Maitimo, Makalaurë or Carnistir's Ammë.

But that afternoon, after Carnistir had retreated to the library because Tyelkormo had been too loud for him, Arafinwë simply sat down next to him with a book, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

This already made Carnistir mad, although he was unsure why exactly it made him so angry.

However, when Arafinwë cleared his throat and asked how he was doing, Carnistir exploded.

He slammed the book shut he had only half-heartedly read anyway and snapped, "What are you doing here!"

Arafinwë remained calm, so unlike other people when he shouted at them, and slowly closed his own book.

"I know how you feel," he said, but he did not look at Carnistir. The words seemed to flow easily from his lips, but somehow Carnistir was sure they were difficult for him.

"You do not know anything," he hissed, although in the depths of his heart he really wanted to say something to reassure Arafinwë. But it was easier to push people away than to let them see your ugly inner self. Than to let them see who you really were.

Arafinwë smiled slightly in response. "How I wish that were true." He paused for a moment. "But you will realise that I know very well how you feel. You think you are not worthy of belonging to this family."

Carnistir swallowed. He didn't like the direction in which this concersation was heading.

Arafinwë was not fazed by this and continued. "You feel out of place because it seems to you that your brothers can do everything and you can do nothing."

Carnistir's hands began to tremble slightly and his heart started to beat faster.

"You are afraid people will forget you exist because you think so little of yourself. You think your family would not even notice if you disappeared from one day to the next because you are so unimportant." Arafinwë smiled sadly. "Yes Carnistir, I think I understand you very well."

"Why?" Carnistir asked cautiously and plucked nervously at the hem of his trousers, his eyes fixed on his feet. "Why do you understand me so well?"

"Because I am like you. At least in a way." Arafinwë admitted. "I had no 'talent' in that sense. My greatest joy was and sometimes still is to make other people happy, and yet I was never able to please my father. Sure, he loved me anyway, but he always preferred Náro and Ñolo. Lalwen and Findis did great things too, but they always had a stronger connection to Ammë than to Atar anyway. I always felt like I was sitting in the middle, unsure of where I belonged. With the fear that I did not belong anywhere."

Carnistir swallowed. "So you do not think I- " he swallowed again, for the words frightened him. What if Arafinwë laughed and said that he was worth nothing? "So you do not think I am worthless?"

"No."

That made Carnistir look up.

"Neither you nor I are worthless just because we are different. I think that is what makes us special. My dear Carnistir, do not make your worth dependent on what others expect of you. You do not have to be anyone other than yourself, because that is how you are at your best." Arafinwë smiled so gently that Carnistir could only smile back.

Arafinwë looked surprised.

"What?" Carnistir asked and felt himself turning bright red.

"Nothing," Arafinwë grinned, "except that I have never seen you smile before. You should really do that more often, it is really adorable."

Carnistir didn't know what to say to that. Most people just teased him about his red cheeks, but no one had ever told him his smile was 'adorable'.

"But my brothers do not think like that. Especially Tyelkormo!" Carnistir grumbled and his smile disappeared.

Arafinwë looked a little disappointed, but then said, "I thought Náro did not care about me until a few days ago. I had always hoped I was wrong, but I did not really believe it. But he does care about me, and from what I have seen, your brothers have a much better relationship than me and my brothers have. Why do you not have a word with Tyelkormo about everything we discussed right now?"

He certainly wouldn't do that. Tyelkormo teased him about his cheeks, made him angry to make them redder and sometimes hid to then jump on him to scare him.

He shook his head.

"What is he doing?" Arafinwë asked. "Lalwen used to play tricks on me all the time when I was younger, but I still love my sister and she loves me."

"He teases me and makes fun about my looks all the time!" Carnistir yelles and turned even redder.

"Please do not shout," Arafinwë said calmly, "For I am not your enemy and I do not believe Tyelkormo is your enemy either."

Carnistir ignored him and snorted softly.

"Have you ever told Tyelkormo that you do not- "

Carnistir jumped to his feet. "Of course I did!"

"Did you tell him angrily after he teased you? "Arafinwë asked calmly.

"Well, yes." Carnistir was confused. What did that have to do with anything?

"Why do you not try telling him calmly? It is possible that he does not realise how much he is hurting you." Arafinwë asked carefully and motioned Carnistir to sit down again. But he did not. He stopped and glared at Arafinwë with dark eyes.

"I am sure he is doing it on purpose," Carnistir snorted sourly. Because if he didn't do it on purpose, Carnistir would have pushed him away for no reason. Tyelkormo was by far the most affectionate of his brothers, but since Carnistir expected only bad things from him, he had never given him the chance to be close to him. It hurt so much to see how well he got along with Curufinwë, who never seemed to be irritated by anything. Because he wasn't as full of faults as Carnistir was.

Arafinwë reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "Why would he do that? He is your older brother, is he not?"

Carnistir shrugged his shoulders. "Because I am different from the others- "

"What you are is not bad." Arafinwë interrupted him in a loud yet calm voice.

"And if I am never enough?" Carnistir asked quietly. He wasn't quite sure where those words had come from, for he hadn't thought about saying them at all. They seem so out of place and were way too private.

A squeeze behind his eyes made him realise that he was on the verge of tears. He bit his lip to hold them back, but Arafinwë had noticed them, for he sat up. Carefully, he crouched down to Carnistir's level and cuddled him in his warm arms. Carnistir had been pushing everyone away for so long that he couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged.

Though he did not hug Arafinwë back, he let himself fall against him and sink into his warmth. Then he heard his soft voice say, "For your Atar, and I am sure for your Ammë too, you are enough, and you have always been enough, for they love their son whether he invents a new alphabet, is the best singer in all the land or becomes just an ordinary elf. Because parents, especially yours, who love you in a way that is rarely seen, will always be proud of what you achieve. Because what seems small and insignificant to you is a great achievement to them."

Carnistir buried his face in Arafinwë's shoulder and wept. Why did he seem to know so well what he was thinking and feeling? Why did it feel good to know that he did not have to carry this burden alone? To know that there was someone who understood him and told him it was all right and that he was enough?

Why did it hurt less when Arafinwë told him he was not alone in this?

~•~

Arafinwë had promised to come back and had left in the early evening.

But Carnistir still had something to do before he would went to bed.

As expected, he found Tyelkormo in the bushes at the edge of the forest. His Ammë had forbidden him to go into the forest since he had lost his way there as a younger elfling and they had searched for him for two days. Oromë had finally discovered him by chance while hunting and had brought him back. And he had told his parents that he could well imagine Tyelkormo as a hunter. Since then, Tyelkormo had been obsessed with the forest.

Carnistir knew that despite the ban, he sometimes went into the forest in secret.

Tyelkormo was just about to take a closer look at a giant worm when he noticed Carnistir's presence.

"Moryo?" he asked in surprise and Carnistir realised that he had never visited Tyelkormo on his own before.

It had left him speechless. On the way here, he had gone over what he would say to Tyelkormo thousands of times in his head, but now he simply couldn't find the words.

"Is everything all right, Moryo?" he asked, his voice sounding worried rather than mocking. How unusual for him. "Are you lost? Was someone mean- "

But his voice broke off abruptly as Carnistir stumbled forwards and wrapped his arms around him.

"M- Moryo? "Tyelkormo seemed confused. "Are you hurt? Has something happened?"

But Carnistir shook his head. He still couldn't get a word past his lips, but he hoped his actions would be as loud as his words, maybe even louder.

And Tyelkormo seemed to understand, because he wrapped his arms around his brother and whispered: "It is all right now, I love you."

And even though Carnistir was unable to say it back, he hugged Tyelkormo tighter and in that moment he knew his brother understood.

#cross posted on ao3 #caranthir #finarfin #celegorm #feanor #fëanor #fanfic #fanfiction #arafinwë #carnistir #fëanáro #sons of feanor #tyelkormo #the silm fandom #the silmarillion #tolkien #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic

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i-did-not-mean-to · 14 days

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April - Eönwë x Arafinwë

Here's the last one I got sent in, for the moment, and it's another one my darling reader MoonLord has sent in :D

This turned a little darker and sadder than I wanted, so please heed the tags!

Lots of love!

Pairing: Eönwë x Arafinwë (Russingon, Fëanor & Fingolfin & Finarfin)

Prompts: Friendship, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Shapeshifting

Words: 2050

Warnings: sadness, self-mutilation, canonical death, despair, loss, bad news

“You came,” Arafinwë sobbed, his whole body slumping forward as if he was tempted to throw himself against the broad chest of his mighty friend. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Eönwë steeled himself to keep from flinching back from the bleak despair radiating in violent waves from the frail frame of the esteemed Elven king; he never knew how to deal with the unbridled, often outright shamelessly emotional outbursts of the Children, and he was afraid of distressing his friend even further by reacting inappropriately.

“How can I be of service?” the herald thus asked cautiously, extending a gentling hand which Arafinwë instantly clutched like a lifeline.

“My brothers,” he whispered, tears staining his fair face. “My heart aches fiercely, and I’m filled with dread that some dark fate has befallen them.”

This time, Eönwë did take a step back—it was forbidden to quest in thought or feeling for those who’d callously deserted the Blessed Realm, and he felt the stern gaze of his Master on the back of his neck even now.

All the non-committal words of illusionary comfort he was expected to dispense, though, died on his tongue in the face of the unembellished misery contorting his friend’s handsome face.

“I know not,” Eönwë finally said. “They’ve chosen their own destiny by removing themselves from the goodwill and protection of the Valar.”

“But you could find out,” Arafinwë wailed and surged forward to dig his fingers into Eönwë’s tunic in a gesture so shockingly disrespectful and undeniably desperate that the benevolent Maia didn’t even have the heart to chide him for his presumptuous trespass. “You are not a prisoner of these lands.”

“Neither are you,” Eönwë reminded him kindly. “Neither were they.”

At that gentle remonstrance, Arafinwë’s face fell like a heap of ashes blown astray by Manwë’s mighty winds.

“I’ve tried to leave once before,” the King of what remained of the Ñoldor breathed mournfully. “I couldn’t do it—and I dare not provoke the wrath of those who’ve welcomed me back so graciously now. I ask this as a friend—could you not travel hither and assuage the fear devouring my very soul?”

It was a terrible idea, Eönwë knew, and he should have declined. By rights and custom, he should have relegated this matter to Nienna or Estë for they would have found the right words to pacify Arafinwë.

Instead, he felt his head dip in a silent, grave nod.

Arafinwë reminded him of a failing fledgling, left behind in a deserted nest by his foolhardier siblings, and Eönwë’s heart bled for the stark loneliness that enveloped the pitiful wretch like an acrid stench; the herald, after all, was a being made to follow and obey, and—in this—his heart commanded him to break the rules to bring peace to one who’d so bravely contained all notions of strife and war within his brittle soul to spare those around him.

Surely, those who lived in and on faith all their life deserved to be granted knowledge from time to time as a reward for their blind, unwavering, oft perilous belief.

“I cannot, I shall not intervene,” Eönwë reminded the sorrowful supplicant. “As a reward for your enduring love and diligence, I will grant you this boon, though—I’ll find out what happened to your brothers and tell you posthaste.”

He did not share the price and suffering he’d take upon himself to do so—these were no concerns for a mere incarnate, and his desire was not to place the burden of guilt onto Arafinwë’s frail shoulders.

“Thank you,” the Elf cried, sinking to his knees and making to kiss the hem of Eönwë’s garment.

“Desist,” Eönwë expostulated and joined the other on the cool, damp ground, cupping his pale cheek tenderly and brushing a rough thumb across the wet skin. “You have been a good, loyal friend to me, and I love you well, son of Finwë. I shall accept your amicable gratitude, but you shan’t abase yourself before me.”

Watery eyes were slowly lifted pleadingly, and Eönwë at once bent forward to press his lips soothingly to that pallid, sorrowful brow.

“Be careful,” Arafinwë said with such genuine fervour that the other couldn’t help but yearn to subdue the tremor in those full lips by moving his own down a shapely cheek to the source of so innocent and foolish an exclamation.

“Worry not about me, dear,” Eönwë cooed. “Go home and make peace with your wife. I shall seek you out as soon as I’m back!”

“Milord!” Arafinwë mumbled into that sweet, comforting kiss before bowing sharply. “I shall await you impatiently!”

As he watched his heartened friend slowly walk back to his splendid abode, Eönwë turned his radiant face to the dark ocean and took a shivering breath—he was undaunted by the cruel steps he’d have to undertake to fulfil his promise, yet he dreaded his master’s just wrath if his base betrayal would come to light.

There was no hiding the truth from Manwë’s far-seeing eyes, so his diligent, hopelessly optimistic herald had to make haste before the mighty Vala could intervene to prevent him from leaving.

Drawing his sword—glistening like the embodiment of solace and vengeance alike—he did what had to be done unflinchingly.

Upon setting foot on the defiled soil, churning with frantic anger and hurt, Eönwë froze.

He’d known Fëanáro’s essence since the time it had slowly poisoned and snuffed out his mother’s soul, and he was reeling with fatigue and shock as he realised that he could not sense it anywhere.

“No,” he whispered. “No, he should be here.”

Slowly and cautiously, he lifted his face into the fetid breeze.

He could sense Fëanáro’s sons, sullen, agonising, diminished, but the one he’d come for was not among them.

Shrugging uncomfortably, he set out in search of Nelyafinwë who, he hoped, would be able to tell him of the fate about which he sought knowledge and reassurance.

After a long, wearying walk, Eönwë finally reached the stark, grey walls surrounding that dour fortress over which ruled the firstborn son of the famed Spirit of Fire—conjuring up dignified equanimity from the depths of his nascent despair, he did neither flinch nor protest when he heard a soldier announce that there was a beggar at the door.

Instead, he schooled his face into a pleasant smile in joyous expectation of having gotten closer to his goal.

He was left waiting in cold, draughty rooms for a shocking amount of time before a shadow so dark it made his very soul shiver fell upon him.

“Herald,” Nelyafinwë rasped in surprise. “You’re bleeding.”

“How did you recognise me?” Eönwë gasped, his mind awhirl with thoughts and observations that made his stomach drop.

The once gloriously beautiful Elven prince had grown gaunt and hollow-eyed, and his snarl was more reminiscent of a bleeding wound than of the radiant smile Eönwë remembered so well.

“I’ve lived through too many unspeakable horrors to be deceived by so weak a glamour,” the Lord of the stronghold chuckled mirthlessly. “You did not have to mutilate yourself—your light gives you away.”

Eönwë flinched—if he’d still had his wings, they would have quivered in alarm, but, in his present form, he merely winced violently.

“Your uncle sends me,” he then explained. “I’ve come from the Blessed Realm, risking much as you can imagine, to supply news about Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë to my dear friend. What can you tell me?”

Shaking his head regretfully, Nelyafinwë gave a crooked shrug that revealed the heavily bandaged stump of his hand which gave Eönwë another painful jolt—Thorondor had declined to speak about what he’d seen on his daring, sanctioned rescue mission, and it was his tight-lipped refusal to impart any wisdom pertaining to the state of things that had eventually pushed poor Arafinwë into making such foolhardy demands and heart-wrenching pleas.

“You can tell Arafinwë that he shan’t worry about my father ever again; Fëanáro won’t come to wrench his precious crown off his golden head. He’s dead and, as per Námo’s dark declaration, will never be seen again.”

“Why, that cannot be true!” Eönwë exclaimed, feeling oddly betrayed by the cold words that buffetted him like a volley of sharp blades, inexorably piercing him to the core of his being.

Surely, if that was so, Manwë would have known and so would Vairë and Námo—undoubtedly, they would not have withheld so grievous a fact from Arafinwë.

“There’s nought here to learn, herald,” Nelyafinwë muttered. “We’re dispersed like bad seeds, unable to take root, doomed to never thrive. I suppose you’ll see High King Ñolofinwë next—extend my greetings to His Highness.”

He hesitated for a near-imperceptible moment before adding, “And express my warmest regards to Prince Findekáno. Tell him that I’m still devoted to my labour of mending the rift between us.”

An incongruous, frightening sense of urgency had slipped into his hoarse, monotone voice now.

“May you find better tidings at their camp,” Nelyafinwë said, not unkindly, and swept out of the room without turning back.

Eönwë cursed himself for having discarded his wings in an act of agonising folly for his progress through the war-torn lands was slow and arduous.

When he finally reached his destination, his heart was heavy and his soul so tense that he feared that it might break under the slightest additional strain or blow.

“Hail…” he exclaimed when he saw Prince Findekáno walk towards him, but the courteous words of greeting died on his tongue as he registered the tears running down those shockingly concave cheeks he’d remembered as round and perpetually set in motion by quick smiles and witty remarks.

“Eönwë,” Findekáno sighed, visibly trying to pull himself together. “Have you come to intercede in my father’s favour?”

Remembering his vow, Eönwë shook his head slowly. “Where is Ñolofinwë? His brother much desires to have news from him, and I’ve taken it upon me to procure them.”

“Ah, the losses, the madness,” the prince sighed in profound hopelessness. “My father, the High King, has ridden out on his own to challenge Morgoth to a fight.”

At that, Eönwë frowned. Level-headed and wise, the Ñolofinwë he’d watched grow from a steadfast, jolly elfling toddling behind his unbearably haughty half-brother would never have undertaken so stupidly temerarious and futile an enterprise as to goad a Vala into single combat.

He could not have imagined hearing anything more absurd and unlikely than Fëanáro bursting into flame and abandoning his sons to carry out his otiose plans—nevertheless, now he learned that Indis’s firstborn was moribund as well.

“Maybe we can stop him,” Eönwë cried, his voice echoing through the deserted courtyard like the screeching of a huge bird of prey caught in a vicious trap. “We must prevent such a senseless sacrifice!”

“It’s too late,” Findekáno declared in the shivering voice of one trying to contain more anguish and pain than his mind could even comprehend. “I’m sorry that you shan’t convey better news to my uncle. Have you heard about Fëanáro?”

All Eönwë could do was to nod. For some reason, which was absolutely mystifying to him, he couldn’t stop moving his head to and fro as if the rhythmical motion could dislodge the cutting splinters of terrible knowledge burrowing into his mind mercilessly.

“It’s not safe here,” Findekáno whispered urgently. “You must away before anyone can see you and get the wrong idea. There shall be enough disappointment and mourning without having a spy instead of a warrior in our midst. Go back and send my loving greetings to Arafinwë.”

Sputtering, Eönwë relayed Nelyafinwë’s message—prompting the first genuine reaction of joy in the soon-to-be High King of the Ñoldor—and went on his way once more.

As he threw himself into Ulmo’s arms, ready to accept whatever punishment the Valar saw fit for his devastating excursion, Eönwë couldn’t help thinking that he’d not only have to tell his dear friend that his brothers were dead, but that he’d also be the bearer of widowhood and maternal loss, quailing before the immense grief of excellent women he’d hitherto respected and liked.

He had left a hero, a bringer of hope, and he’d return as a dull, throbbing beacon of endless mourning.

-> Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one!

Thank you so much for being on this ride with me!

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xiphoid-processing · 1 year

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cmon their fathers were both kings they had to have met in their early years at least once

#im a little in love with earwen despite the fact that they say almost nothing about her in silm #and finarfins my special little guy. i am squeezing him like a stress ball #anyways i will die on the hill that they knew eachother for a very long time before the idea of courting eachother even came to mind #also i need to get more comfortable with drawing bigger bc aras crown thing was a pain in the ass #anyways #tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarillion #earwen #eärwen #finarfin #arafinwe #arafinwë #i love them a normal amount #also realizing that during the two month period when i got depressed and didnt draw that i lost a ton of skill #so im trying to get back into art again #xiphoids art

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elficially-done-with-life · 2 months

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I've put Gil-Galad here because from my understanding it was Tolkien's final decision that he was Orodreth's son (although I'm not sure he wouldn't have changed that again😅). Anyone can interpret it however they want of course, that's just how I interpret it.

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doodle-pops · 1 year

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Modern AU: CEO! Finarfin

SFW and NSFW Headcanons

A/N: Back again with another Modern AU headcanon (you probably thought I gave it up). The last one I did was for the Sugar Daddies, I had a hard time deciding if I should have done one for Finarfin (maybe a next time)...here's CEO! Finarfin to continue this Modern AU.

Modern AU Masterlist

SFW

CEO! Finarfin who…inherited the smallest share of his father’s company after the will was read and turned out to have the most successful business ever. More successful than Feanor and easily surpassed him in the markets with a grand welcome of deals and shares. His company ran the most prolonged, longer than his father's rule.

CEO! Finarfin who…was pleased to hire you as his forensic accountant and was blown away by your credentials. There wasn’t an area on your resume that showed you being incapable of anything. This pushed him to have you as his certified forensic accountant, not wanting to have anyone else sort out all his financial reports. He needed someone with vast skills who could keep up with his business work etiquette, and you had them all.

CEO! Finarfin who…asks for you to do background research on all of the companies before he makes a deal or co-signs with them. He respects your words and looks forward to your guidance, believing in your final say about companies, their work ethics and financial history. He doesn’t have the need to consult another accountant to clarify if the data acquired is true or false.

CEO! Finarfin who…not only loves your advice in business but also in life. He looks forward to the motivational words you give him whenever he’s stressed out by his eldest brother or family problems. There are moments during meetings you would notice the stress and make a few comments here and there to relieve himself and have a break. Other times, when the meeting is over or midway, the conversation changes outside of work matters.

CEO! Finarfin who…also insists that you tag along to lunch because you do so much for him, way out of your job description, thus you deserve some time off to take away his stress (that is if you are living nearby and not overseas).

CEO! Finarfin who…can’t help but feel touched by the extra distance you’re willing to go and can’t help but wonder what your motives were. Were you trying to get closer to him because it wasn’t the first time someone attempted, plus, he was a single desirable bachelor? Many were lining up for his hand in marriage. Or were you genuinely sincere towards him? He hoped the latter, he did fancy you.

CEO! Finarfin who…takes the chance to ask you out for dinner one day out of the blue and almost walked into his office door after you told him yes. You saw the natural radiant beam of light shine out from him when realised he still had his game and charm.

NSFW

CEO! Finarfin who…takes the opportunity to bring you to his company whenever face-to-face meetings are being held. Sometimes, the chauffeur will retrieve you before him at Finarfin’s request just to have you sit and wait for his return after a morning jog. When he comes in, he’s wearing a simple thin tee and sweatpants that do not hide his physique. Thus, you are caught drooling at his body and he takes notice.

CEO! Finarfin who…loves to hold you close when kissing you so you could feel the outline of his physique through his shirt and shiver at the close contact. He runs his own hands up and down your body as the kiss escalates and lifts you onto his table to press his bulge into your core. The little gasp you would make just turns him into a little demon who walks you over to his sofa and allow you to grind over his crotch.

CEO! Finarfin who…would unbutton your shirt as you’re making out in his office and leave a litter of hickeys around your chest and neck and send you back to the accountant firm, with at least the top two buttons undone, hot and bothered. He knows that your underwear was soaked and was itching to have it off, but he’s a patient person.

CEO! Finarfin who…waits until you’ve both returned to his home, where he presses you against the walls to have his way. A passionate lover who has you speaking in tongues — he’s that good. King of aftercare and indulges in shower sex and morning sex. He tends to have more energy in the morning, so his pace is faster.

CEO! Finarfin who…doesn’t take the chance of fucking you in his office when you visit because he’s always busy and anyone could walk in, so he prefers his house. He does take back his word when he’s stressed out by his elder brother’s competitive behaviour, and you’re around to save the day with a blowjob under his desk and then riding him like no tomorrow. He lost his mind at your actions and didn’t hesitate to bend you over his desk, whispering in your ear about how good you were always for him.

CEO! Finarfin who…hates to use you as a stress reliever but loves how you feel around him when he’s stressed. His senses are heightened so he seeks you to dispel his tiredness with a nice rough fuck. Prefers when you call him affectionate names with the exception of ‘Sir’, it gets you bent over any surface. Hates and loves when you run your hand through his hair or tug him by his collar and call him Sir.

CEO! Finarfin who…invests in buying you pretty lingerie because he’s a sucker for them and loves the way you look. He’s torn between taking you in them and ripping them off your body, either way, you’re always getting a new stock. He acts like your sugar daddy even though you can more than afford the same things he purchases for you (he just wants to spoil you). Once you dropped the comment and he just raised a brow and smirked because he knew how true it was.

CEO! Finarfin who…fucks you a little rougher than usual whenever he meets with his family and complains the entire night about them as he’s fucking you — it’s the one time he’s very rough and doesn’t let you have any control. You’re literally his personal stress reliever.

CEO! Finarfin who…calls you ‘his baby’ and enjoys taking you to events, loving to see you decked out in the finest jewellery and clothes. His heart swells even more with the realisation that he’s more than just spoiling you and treating you like his sugar baby, he fancies you. Later on, asks for you to officially move in with him and make things official between you two.

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

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