#finarfin is so done

[wanderer-clarisse]

... for the sorrow and the strife in the house of Finwë is graven in the memory of the Noldorin Elves. (The Silmarillion)

#took me a solid FOURTEEN HOURS to finish #and i am very glad it's done #based this entirely on the silmarillion #gil-galad is son of orodreth purely out of personal preference #but because everything else is based on the silm i felt guilty about it and added that footnote in the corner lol #but hoorey! it's done. it was fun character designing #up next: more ballet sketches #tolkien #the silmarillion #elves #so many elves #i'm not tagging all those characters individually #peredhil #house of finwe #feanorians #feanor #finarfin #fingolfin #the end.

[thesummerestsolstice]

My Headcanon Crafts for the House of Feanor:

Nerdanel: a sculptor; about the best in all of Valinor. Many of her early sculptures were praised, but also seen as a bit strange because they looked so real, but no one could identify any model they'd been based off of. Later, it would be recognized that she'd sculpted several of her own children, long before they were born.

Maedhros: an actor. Back in Valinor, he often played romantic leads in comedies and tragedies alike. He was very dramatic back in the years of trees, but got more subdued in Middle-Earth for... obvious reasons. A few of the posters for plays he was in made their way to Middle-Earth and got passed around Himring like contraband.

Maglor: a bard. While he often composed his own songs, he was also one of those charged with memorizing the old oral history of the Quendi– the elven equivalent of like, being able to memorize and recite the Iliad. Much of this early Elvish history was almost lost by the end of the First Age, and Maglor attempted to preserve it by writing it down. Eventually, those books ended up saved in Rivendell's library.

Celegorm: a hunter in Orome's train. Was famous for his ability to hit quickly moving targets through the thick forests of Valinor, even when mounted. He also enjoyed making various things out of the pelts, teeth, claws, and antlers of his kills. He's made very nice fur coats for several of his siblings and cousins.

Caranthir: a fiber artist; mostly focusing on weaving and embroidery. He's not sure whether to feel flattered or vaguely worried by all the Miriel comparisons. He insisted on making most of his family's formal clothing because all of Feanor's kids can get at least a little craft-related hubris. As a treat.

Curufin: a smith. His father was most famous for his jewelry, but Curufin would come to be known mostly for his weapons. They were so reliable that many of them lasted until the Third Age. There are rumors he poured some of his soul into the weapons he made for his brothers. But those are only rumors.

Amras & Amrod: painters. They specialized in incredibly detailed landscape paintings. I say "they" because all their works were done together; Amrod would make the sketch and darker linework and Amras would add the colors and shading. Their work was often very nostalgic and peaceful, with bright watercolors and gentle shadows.

Bonus! Feanor saved a lot of his kids' work from when they were really young and just starting their crafts. It's all what you'd expect from a small child's art, but Feanor still acts like they're masterpieces. His kids all think it's super embarrassing but he's really proud of them.

Headcanons for Finwe and his Children, the House of Fingolfin, the House of Finarfin, and the rest of the House of Finwe. Thanks for asking about Finwe's grandkids @hyperlexia-1 :)

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #house of finwe #house of feanor #noldor #noldor crafts #feanor #nerdanel #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #caranthir #curufin #ambarussa #good dad feanor

[thestaroffeanor]

Harbor boy Finarfin! Or the one that just wanted his brothers to get along and was so done with drama he moved to the sea :) And that concludes Finwe's boys, but perhaps I'll continue with their kids

#my art #finarfin #arafinwe #silmarillion #tolkien #sons of finwe

[echo-bleu]

Noldor Hair Headcanons (3/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Some lighter Kidnap Fam content, after the downhill freefall that was the last chapter. With a dash of Finrod in Valinor.

Elrond and Elros have never had their hair braided when they end up with Maedhros and Maglor.

They don’t realize what they’re asking when Elros grabs a hairbrush and puts it in Maglor’s hand.

Maglor understands that, but decides that the twins need parental care, even though he has no right. He brushes their hair and leaves it loose at first.

But the twins have watched Maglor braid Maedhros’s hair and they soon start asking for more interesting hairstyles.

Eventually Maglor explains to them that it can only be done by family.

The twins have a whole silent conversation.

“What does it take to be family?” Elros asks eventually.

Well, braiding an unrelated child’s hair is pretty close to informal adoption.

Elros forces the brush into Maglor’s hand again.

Maglor stares.

Elrond shakes his head and runs out.

Of course, Elrond must hate them. He has every right. Sure, Elros has started to warm up to them, but that’s just because he’s affection-starved, probably. They’re still kidnappers.

Maglor is about to put down the brush and try to refuse when Elrond comes back.

He’s holding a second hairbrush.

He hands it to Maedhros expectantly.

Maedhros cries.

Maglor cries.

The twins’ hair really doesn’t hold braids very well, and they’re still kids who run around and play, but damn them if Maglor and Maedhros aren’t going to do their best.

Now all of their people can see that the twins are well-loved.

Maedhros and Maglor also proudly sport a few clumsy, wonky braids each.

They’re less wonky with time, and eventually the twins are doing their fathers’ (kidnappers’) hair as often as not.

Finrod is reembodied shortly before Eärendil and Elwing gets to Valinor. It’s too early and he’s Not Doing Well. While in Middle Earth, he was the one who let basically every one of his friends braid his hair, now he can’t stand the thought of someone touching him that way.

But Beleriandic battle braids feel wrong in Tirion. And he’s desperately trying to reckon with his trauma, with Sauron defeating him by singing about the kinslaying, so he can’t leave his hair loose like the Teleri.

And he can’t quite get the sight of Edrahil’s bloody braids spat out by a werewolf out of his head.

He wears nothing but the very strange-looking (to Amanyar) Mourning Braids he designed after Dagor Bragollach for a couple of years.

Then after an episode of really bad depression and nearly fading, he cuts his hair short.

No-braiding-possible kind of short.

While not unheard of in Beleriand (sometimes former thralls keep their hair very short, like Rog), it’s unthinkable in Valinor, especially for the Crown Prince of the Noldor.

He is stared at a lot, his reputation goes down the drain, but to Finrod it’s liberating.

He does let his hair grow out again eventually, but only when other Exiles start coming back and choose to keep the Beleriandic braid styles, and it becomes a fashion statement rather than a mark of shame.

Finarfin is Very Shocked arriving in Beleriand when he finds his (single remaining) child with her hair loose and everyone else with weird self-braided battle hairstyles.

After a battle or three where he ends up with his hair matted with blood and mud, he caves and gets Galadriel to give him battle braids.

By the end of the war he’s even learned to do them himself! Let it not be said that King Arafinwë Ñoldóran didn’t rise to his calling.

The night before sending the Elrond and Elros to Gil-galad, Maedhros and Maglor undo all of their braids. Everyone cries.

Maedhros and Maglor meant this to minimize the ‘taint’ their names would put on the twins, by making it look like they were still hostages to the end, but the twins stop on the way to do each other’s hair because one does not meet a king with their hair loose, they have manners (which the Fëanorians taught them, so they’re Very Specific Manners), so the effect is lost. Gil-galad has Questions. The twins refuse to lie.

Then, before going to steal the Silmarils, Maedhros and Maglor do each other’s hair, in a style of their father’s that they haven’t worn since the Oath.

Maglor braids a single golden ribbon into Maedhros’s hair.

They have very few pieces of hair jewellery left of their brothers’, but they use all of them.

They both know it’s the last time.

To be continued

I did some sketches for visual reference of a few of the hairstyles mentioned here, if you want to see what I'm imagining!

#noldor hair headcanons #if i am to braid my mystic crown #noldor #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #finrod #kidnap fam #silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #echo's fanfiction

[feanors-silmarils]

"My muse. My light. My inspiration."

Commission of my Tolkien OC Melino (lost son of Finarfin and Uinen) and Maglor done for me by the absolutely wonderful @liusia-piu ! Thank you so. much for this beautiful art!

#tolkien #silmarillion #maglor #kanafinwe #makalaure #melino #arafinwe #finarfin #silm #the silm #the silmarillion #tolkien art #silm art #tolkien oc #silmarillion oc

[tanoraqui]

Lalwen caught everyone's attention by slamming a fresh wine bottle onto the center of the table.

"Alright, new game," she said. "'The Worst Thing I Ever Did To You Was...' It's like The Worst Thing I Ever Did, but it has to be specifically to someone else in this room, and you have to apologize for it. And you only get to drink if everyone else agrees that your apology was good enough."

Fingolfin raised one finger. "Point of order: what if you need to be drunker in order to apologize for something?" He didn't look at Fëanor, but his gaze was sliding around a bit, so in order to achieve this, he turned his entire head to the right.

"Tough luck," said Lalwen.

"Point of order," said Findis. "What if we don't want to play this one, either?"

"Then you have to sit here and endure it without getting to drink any more. Because - " Lalwen forestalled Fëanor's imminent query - "the door is still locked and no one is leaving until Family Game Night is over."

The boys all radiated rebellious pedantry, probably still not over how she'd lied to get them all here. But they didn't say anything, so Lalwen smiled brightly and said, "Great! I'll do an example to show you how it's done."

She retook her own chair, wobbling only a little as she moved from standing to sitting, leaned toward her youngest brother and said earnestly, "Ara, I'm sorry that I lied to you that Gil-galad was Fingon's son and your foster-great-grandson. It was politically expedient but essentially an orc move, and mostly I just did it because I was bitter at you for swanning in with all your golden armor and righteousness and optimism, when we had none of any of that. That was wrong of me. Also, obviously it fell apart as soon as he and his parents were all re-embodied."

Fëanor still had half a glass of wine from the now-lost bottle. He'd started slipping it slowly while glaring pointedly at Lalwen, to prove that he didn't need her stupid game.

He nearly spit it out.

"That's why a random half-blood became High King of the Noldor?" he demanded. "You just lied that he was part of the House of Finwë? And nobody challenged it?"

Lalwen was laughing too hard to answer. Findis was also laughing, more quietly.

"To be fair," Fingolfin offered, swallowing his own snicker in favor of loftiness, "from what the elf himself has told me, at the start of the Second Age, Galadriel, Elrond, and Celebrimbor between them could have crowned an unwoken tree High King if they'd all agreed on a candidate. Support from each of our lines, you know."

"Fëanor, how did you think Gil-galad became High King?" Finarfin asked curiously.

"I hadn't thought about it much - I've been busy, you know. I suppose I assumed he'd been elected, as we do now."

Fëanor tipped his head back to drain his glass, then rather slammed it down on the table. Yet again, the jewel-grade goblets proved themselves the right choice for the evening.

Lalwen could barely breathe for laughing. "No Noldor on either side of the Sea did that until nearly the end of the Second Age!"

Fëanor scowled.

Findis smiled serenely, and twisted the top off the new wine bottle. A melodious scent swelled forth of sweet grapes, bruised peaches, and warm summer sun.

"Well, that seems well-apologized to me." She refilled Lalwen's glass - though she paused before handing it back, and asked, "Ara?"

Finarfin nodded grandly, and for good measure took Lalwen's hand and kissed it. "We are well-reconciled, sister, and have been for many years."

"Good, good, gimme!" said Lalwen, grabbing at her well-deserved wine. "Ahh..." The Yavannandil wine was soft and soothing against her laughter-dried throat.

When she'd downed a good third of the glass, she gestured broadly and declared, "There! You see how it's done! Your turn!"

She pointed to Fëanor, then jabbed her finger at his chest. "And you're not allowed to say 'burning the ships', that's too easy."

#the silmarillion #ficlet #wanted to write something pleasant so i wrote this #lalwen #feanor #findis #fingolfin #finarfin #my fic #feanor and feanor's kin #aman ever after

[animatorweirdo]

Soundless

Your father discouraged you from seeking the elf, but since you were desperate to have your locket fixed -- you decided to let his words go soundless in your ears. Turns out, the ill-famed Feanor wasn't so bad after all.

[] = Sign language

Warnings: mentions of a dead mother, hearing loss, rumors, Feanor's reputation, softness, and Feanor not being bad after all.

(Note: I decided to take a softer turn for this guy,)

---------------------------------------------

Your life has not been an easy one. Despite being born into nobility as the child of a Telerin lord, you faced your share of hardships from a young age. Your mother passed away shortly after your birth, and then you lost your hearing to a strange illness.

Growing up without the ability to hear the sounds of nature or music was incredibly challenging. Many people looked at you with pity, and some even speculated that you were cursed, given the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both your mother's death and your hearing loss. This placed a heavy burden on your father, who was left to care for you alone.

You two shared a great bond, and he had been genuinely a good father to you, helping you adapt to your disability and trying to make sure you were happy. However, you knew how tired he was and how he held a look of longing in his eyes. He was most likely still waiting for your mother to return from the halls of Mandos. 

Your mother had been born with a weak body thus the childbirth took a severe toll on her and her spirit. The Valar and the Maiar assured that she would heal over time, but it would take a long time. There was a high chance she would return when you had already grown into your teens. 

Your father was deeply saddened by the news and carried a heavy burden of guilt, believing that he was responsible for your mother being stuck in a state of recovery. Despite any rumors or beliefs held by others, he never allowed you to bear the blame. Instead, he shielded you from such notions, ensuring that you understood it was not your fault and that you were not to blame for your mother's passing.

You didn't want your father to blame himself, so you always strived to be on your best behavior and do things that would make him happy. You also wanted to prove to him that he didn’t always need to worry about you and that you could handle yourself, even if you were deaf. That was one of the reasons why you were determined to learn how to read people’s lips and make communication easier for yourself.

One of the only things you had from your mother was a silver locket.

Your father allowed you to keep it, and you held on to it ever since. Unfortunately, the lock had gotten stuck, thus making you unable to open it. 

Your father didn’t know what the locket held inside, so you pleaded with him to have someone fix it. However, since the locket was an older design from the First Age, none of the craftsmen knew how to repair it. They all advised you to dismantle the locket and salvage whatever was inside, but you were unwilling to do so. You were fond of the locket itself and didn't want to risk damaging whatever precious contents it held.

You began to lose hope when there were no more craftsmen to turn to, and even your father seemed less eager to save the locket. He eventually told you to simply keep the locket as a memory, assuring you that knowing what was inside was not important.

You valued your father's advice, but you also couldn't shake the desire to know what was inside the locket. Perhaps it contained a picture of your mother, since you had so few of them in the house, or maybe it held a cherished item she kept as a memory.

You then heard about an elf who was rumored to be one of the best craftsmen known in history: Feanor, King Finarfin’s older brother and the eldest of Finwe’s children. You heard that he had done troubling things in the past and nowadays lived in seclusion with his sons, rarely attending social events. Despite his reclusive nature, his reputation as a skilled craftsman persisted.

You felt hope for your mother’s locket, but when you asked your father if you two could meet him, he suddenly became angry and refused. You were startled as you had never seen him so angry before. 

Your father apologized for snapping at you and then explained that Feanor was not someone who should even be spoken about. Despite the passing of many years, the wounds he had inflicted were still fresh in the hearts of many. He was not to be trusted, so it's only for the best that you forget the whole thing.

Normally, you would have listened to your father, but your stubbornness to have your locket fixed strived you forward. 

During a celebration event with most noble houses and the city attending, you sneaked away from your father’s side and made your way to the workshop where you heard Feanor usually occupied alone with his gadgets. 

You had visited many workshops while trying to get your locket fixed, so you had a good idea of what to look for. It didn’t take long for you to find the place and walk inside. The workshop was empty, as most of the people were attending the celebration. Although it was a bit eerie to be alone, you pressed on until you found a door with light emanating from the room beyond.

You quietly peered inside and observed a dark-haired elf seated beside a table, engrossed in some task beneath the flickering candlelight. For a moment, you were awestruck, realizing that this was the famed Feanor, the elf who had allegedly committed terrible deeds.

With cautious steps, you entered the room, mindful not to startle the elf, and pondered how to approach him without alarming him. Unbeknownst to you, the door behind you closed shut, causing the elf to startle and snap his head towards you.

You were frozen in your place when you locked your eyes with Feanor. His features were sharp and he frowned when he saw you. For a moment, he looked a bit terrifying. 

“Child? What are you doing here alone? Where are your parents?” Feanor questioned, but you awkwardly remained quiet as you only managed to catch ‘here’ and ‘parents’ from his lips. Your lip reading skills weren’t the sharpest despite you having been trying to improve them. 

You took a deep breath and then tried to explain in sign language why you were there and that you had hoped he could take a look at your locket and perhaps know how to fix it since no one else knew how to. 

Feanor gazed intently at you as you signed, and then there was an awkward pause. You weren't sure if he understood sign language, and you mildly regretted not bringing a piece of paper and a pencil, which would have made explaining much easier.

Feanor’s eyes then softened, and to your surprise, he motioned his hand in sign language. 

“[Come here…]” he said. 

You then walked up to him and handed him your locket. 

He inspected it carefully, taking in the design and the lock. After he tested it and tried to open it, he then laid it down on the table. He grabbed one of the vials and what seemed to be a small tool. You looked at him curiously as he started doing something. 

He then glanced at you. 

“[Take a seat. This might take a while…]” He signed. 

You nodded and quietly sat on the opposite side of the table, watching as he gently poured drops on the lock. 

“[What is that?] you curiously asked. 

“[A type of acid. It can remove the rust that had locked the locket from the inside,]” he explained. 

“[Wait! So you can really fix it without having to break it?!]” you asked excitedly.

“[Of course I can. I do need to take the lock apart to clean the excess rust from the inside,]” Feanor explained while dropping drops on the locket. 

“[How do you know sign language?]” you asked. 

“[I was the one who first developed it,]” he answered, making your eyes widen. 

“[Did you or anyone in your family have hearing problems too? ]” you asked. 

“[No. I just wanted a way to bad mouth my half-brother without him understanding anything. I was a bit of a drama seeker,]” he explained, making you giggle. 

“[Then it was adopted by those who were unable to speak or hear words,]” he added.

“[How long have you been unable to hear words or sounds?]” he asked while cleaning your locket’s lock. 

“[My whole life. I lost my hearing somewhere in my birth,]” you answered.

“[Do you want to talk about it?]” Feanor asked, and you became excited. No one else besides your father has spoken to you in sign language this long. 

You then talked about your life. How your mother died during your birth, and how your father had taken care of you your whole life. You also talked about how your father seems to be blaming himself for your mother’s death and how you hated when others would look at you with pity and think you had been cursed. 

Feanor listened attentively while fixing your locket. 

After half an hour of talking and watching him work, you took a break, but then you saw how the elf in front of you placed all the parts back in the locket and opened it. 

You looked at him eagerly as he closed it and then opened it, making sure the lock worked properly before handing the locket back to you.

You grabbed the locket and took a look at what was inside. It was a small picture of your mother and father. They looked happy together, and there was also a small gem inside. It was most likely the gem your father gave your mother as a gift, and she had kept it inside the locket for safekeeping and carried it with her. You felt immeasurable joy looking at the picture and holding the gem. 

Your father would be so happy when you showed these to him. 

Feanor then caught your attention by tapping the table in front of you. 

“[The locket should work fine for now, but make sure to take care of it and not leave it somewhere where it could rust again, ]” Feanor explained. 

“[I will. Thank you,]” you signed. 

“[Now come on. I take you back to the entrance. You shouldn’t be here,]” he said, then stood up. 

You followed the elf out of the workshop, and you two then stood on the empty street while the celebration was still going in the distance. 

“[Do you need me to escort you back there?]” Feanor asked. 

“[No. My father is pretty easy to find, and I don’t think he even noticed that I’m gone. I’m pretty quiet after all, ]” you answered. 

“[Very well, and by the way,]” he said, making you look at him curiously. 

“[Your mother’s passing was not your fault. No matter how tragic it was, you are not at fault,]” he explained. 

You looked down for a moment. 

“[But others think differently,]” you said. 

“[There will always be people who will judge you for what you don’t have. Don’t let their words get to you. Otherwise, your life will become difficult and harder to enjoy,]” he signed.

 “[And remember, hearless or not, your mother would have loved you]” he added. 

The thought made you smile. Your mother had a weak body, but it didn’t mean she did not want you. Your father and the rest of the relatives always explained how she was excited to have you. 

She might be in Mandos, but she was going to return one day. 

“[I won’t. Thank you, Mr. Feanor,]” you said, and he softly smiled. 

“[Now get along now. Your father will notice your disappearance soon enough,]” he said. 

You then suddenly hugged his legs, making him look at you surprised. He then patted your head as you freed him and began making your way back to the party. You waved at him, and he waved in return till he saw you disappear into the crowds. 

Feanor returned to his workshop, feeling pleasant over the encounter. 

#silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #silm fic #tolkien #silmarillion imagines #feanor #feanor x reader #feanor x child reader #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #middle earth #deaf reader

[actual-bill-potts]

"We are nearly there," said Finarfin. He pulled Findaráto - Finrod, he reminded himself, I must remember, Finrod - into a one-armed hug. He could not stop sneaking glances at his son. His son, his grown son! His returned son!

Finrod was quieter within himself than of old, and his smile was a little lopsided; but he was bright and tall, and gentle, and he raised one eyebrow whenever he had a question in the quizzical manner that was Eärwen’s, and sometimes as they walked he tapped one finger upon his cheekbone absent-mindedly in just the way he had done as a child, and Finarfin’s heart ached with loss and joy both.

He opened the little gate and led the way down the familiar winding path. He and Eärwen had decided, long ago, that it was necessary to have a little space from the palace on occasion - both palaces - and so they kept a small house a little outside Tirion. It was to the door of this house that he led Finrod. He and Eärwen had not wanted to have the duties of rule interfering with this first reunion with their son; nor had they thought that the bustle of palace life would be good for one so newly returned. So it was just them, and Hueleni, who were there awaiting Finrod.

They had found, for the Returned, that too many crowds too early could be painful, even alarming. Finarfin had thought with a pang of his gregarious, kind firstborn, and hoped he would not be lonely. Now, feeling his son lean on him, hesitating before the door, he was glad of the decision.

He fumbled for the keys. Behind the door, Hueleni barked.

"Ah!" Finarfin said, smiling. He remembered Finrod’s tiny sticky hands entangled in the ears of their little dog Aranel, an Age and a half past; then Findaráto, tall and princely, abandoning dignity to chase Aranel down the beach of Alqualondë. "Our new dog, Hueleni. You will like her, I am sure -"

He paused. The warm weight of Finrod upon his shoulder had frozen; and when he turned about his son’s face was bone-white.

"Are you alright?" asked Finarfin in alarm. "Is it too hot? We can go inside -"

"No," said Finrod breathlessly. He was backing away, shaking his head. "No, not - inside -"

"What is wrong -" Finarfin began to ask. Then he knew. He remembered the whispers that had spread throughout the refugee camps, the ragged recruits who had come to join the armies of the Valar: the Lord Felagund’s father; what kind of Elda must he be, to have raised such a king; and no wonder he has gone to war, for his son died so terribly - the wolves -

He had been so stupid. So terribly, irredeemably - foolish -

He reached out. Uselessly, stupidly; his son had not taken his hand on that terrible dark day so many years ago, and he would not take it now -

In the next breath his hand was left hanging uselessly; Finrod’s arms were flung about his neck, his son’s head buried in his shoulder, and Finarfin returned the embrace as fiercely as if by doing so he could tear Finrod from chains that had been broken long ago.

#silm fic #minific #finarfin #finrod #my writing #queuenta silmarillion

[imakemywings]

Analysis of Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth

The Athrabeth is one of those things which spawns endless fandom discussion, but a lot of it seems to misunderstand what's going on in Andreth and Finrod's discussion, which is understandable. There's a lot going on and the language can be difficult. Athrabeth serves two purposes: 1) on a meta level, it is Tolkien exploring the differing fates and beliefs of the peoples of Middle-earth; and 2) on a textual level, Finrod is both having a cultural exchange with and seeking to comfort Andreth about the loss of Aegnor, his brother whom she loved. The two discussions are necessarily tied together, because Andreth's bitterness and anger over the mortal fate of Men (which she believes to be unnatural, imposed on them by Melkor) is tied into her feelings about losing Aegnor.

I want to focus on the relationship we're shown between Andreth and Finrod.

The Cultural Exchange

Finrod first engages Andreth, a wise woman among her people, in a conversation about the beliefs and mythologies of the Beorians. I have often seen Finrod criticized for being condescending here, and while I suppose you could read that attitude into it, I don't. When Andreth accuses the Elves of condescension, of considering Men beneath them, Finrod agrees with her:

"Alas, you speak near the truth," said Finrod. "At least of many of my people; but not of all, and certainly not of me."

He freely admits many Elves wouldn't bother with Men because they do consider them "creatures of less worth." But Finrod is among Men, asking questions about their culture and their belief system, because it interests him. From the very beginning, the story tells us Finrod's interest in Men and their culture is genuine, whether or not Andreth believes that.

Finrod (son of Finarfin, son of Finwë) was the wisest of the exiled Noldor, being more concerned than all others with matters of thought...and he was eager moreover to discover all that he could concerning Mankind.

And he seems to respect Andreth as a keeper of her people's knowledge, even if he doesn't always agree with it. The story very much sets them up both as respected individuals among their peoples, with even the Elves acknowledging Andreth's intelligence and knowledge:

[Andreth] was wise in thought, and learned in the lore of Men and their histories; for which reason the Eldar called her Saelind, 'Wise-heart'.

This exchange between them has always come off as one of deep respect on both sides, to me. It is precipitated by Finrod's grief for the death of Boron, a lord of the Beorians, and his struggle with the seemingly short lives of Men. He and Andreth compare the views of the world of their respective species and share beliefs that each side has in the nature of the world.

A number of things Andreth says Finrod knows are false, because he grew up in Aman, he's met the Valar. But even where he challenges her assertions--such as her belief that Men were not always mortal, but were made so by Morgoth--it isn't done with some effort to triumphantly prove her wrong, but rather advising caution or offering a different perspective.

"Beware of the chaff with your corn, Andreth! For it may be deadly: lies of the Enemy that out of envy will breed hate. Not all the voices that come out of the darkness speak truth to those minds that listen for strange news."

And there is a deep bitterness and resentment that arises around the notion that Morgoth robbed Men of their rightful immortality. It absolutely comes through in Andreth's tone throughout Athrabeth. It must be very easy for mortals to perseverate on this rather than taking mortality as the natural state of being and processing it through that lens. Andreth resents that she is mortal, and she sees her mortality (imposed on her by Melkor) as the reason she could not have Aegnor.

Andreth and Finrod like and respect each other enough to have a discussion/debate like this and still consider each other a friend at the end. Further along, Finrod even suggests Andreth may not be entirely wrong, but is deeply troubled by the notion that Morgoth could be powerful enough to do such a thing. In short, he is listening to Andreth, and while her assertions may not immediately make sense to him, he considers them and how they might impact a person's view of the world.

Andreth too, allows for some flexibility in belief:

"You speak strange words, Finrod," said Andreth, "which I have not heard before. Yet my heart is stirred as if by some truth that it recognizes even if it does not understand it."

While each of them already has their own ideas about the world and their species' relationship with each other and with death and hope, they listen to one another. They aren't simply arguing to prove themselves right--they are having a genuine discussion (which necessitates being willing to oppose each other on some things). Amid the discussion on mortality and the nature of death for Elves and Men, she says this:

"Hope, that is another matter, of which even the Wise seldom speak." Then her voice grew more gentle. "Yet, Lord Finrod of the House of [Finarfin], of the high and puissant Elves, perhaps we may speak of it anon, you and I."

There is some culture clash between them, as some of their views and beliefs are mutually exclusive, but although their discussion gets emotional at some points, it never, to me, feels mean or disrespectful. Here was a clear spot for Andreth to cut off the conversation if she felt talked down to, or upset, but instead she encourages it to continue. They may occasionally get intense with their discussions (Andreth does shed tears at a few points)--and Athrabeth implies in my view that this is not the first of these cultural discussions they've had--but they still like each other.

And that is part of the key to the Athrabeth for me--they are friends.

In the days of the peace before Melkor broke the Siege of Angband, Finrod would often visit Andreth, whom he loved in great friendship...

He comes to her in friendship, and goes out of his way to speak with her about the end of her relationship (whatever it was--the text isn't clear on that) with Aegnor. He opens this talk by asking her about things Andreth is known to be knowledgeable about--paying respect to her wisdom, and regarding her intellect highly enough to even have such a debate. He wants to understand her perspective on the world, and it does shape her reaction to her relationship with Aegnor.

Finally, Andreth, for her part, seems like she would be more than willing to tell Finrod to fuck off if she didn't like him or didn't want to talk or felt like he was being an ass. This is not a soft-spoken person; she is very upfront with Finrod when she wants to be. The fact that she continues to engage him both in the discussion about Mannish beliefs and about Aegnor suggests to me that she also considers him a friend, or at least that she feels generally amiable towards him

Explaining Aegnor's Choice

The other big criticism of Finrod that seems to come out of Athrabeth stems from this effort, which often seems to be a misunderstanding that Finrod is making an argument that Aegnor made the right choice, which is not at all how I read this discussion.

However, before that, I do want to say: Aegnor was not wrong to leave Andreth. There is, to me, an uncomfortable fandom attitude that Aegnor was obliged to stay with Andreth because she loved him, or that he somehow wronged her by choosing not to be in a relationship with her. No one is obliged to be in a romantic relationship they don't want, no matter what the reasons are. That Aegnor loved Andreth does not mean he was forced to be with her. There were other considerations in his life and I don't think it was invalid of him to place those first. Neither is it invalid of Andreth to be bitter about it--especially considering where she starts this discussion.

Andreth, early on, still believes that the reason Aegnor left her is because she isn't an Elf--that she isn't immortal. She talks about how she wouldn't have made herself a burden to him in her old age, how she would have only given him her youth, etc. She is 48 at the time of Athrabeth.

"I was young and I looked on his flame, and now I am old and lost. He was young and his flame leaped towards me, but he turned away, and he is young still. Do candles pity moths?"

You can see here her anguish over her own mortality, which ties irrevocably into her anguish over losing the love of her life. What Finrod tries to tell her is that it was nothing about Andreth that ended it. Aegnor's decisions were not based on his feelings about Andreth or her mortality, but on various cultural factors among the Elves (such as their disinclination to marry during wartime) and his obligations, in his mind, towards the war against Morgoth. Finrod tells her that "if his heart ruled" Aegnor would have run off with Andreth, but that he chose to put his duty above his desire for her.

"Adaneth, I tell thee, Aikanar the Sharp-flame loved thee. For thy sake he will never take the hand of any bride of his own kindred, but will live alone to the end, remembering the morning in the hills of Dorthonion."

He isn't trying to say "Aegnor made the right choice" or "Elves shouldn't marry mortals" but he is trying to give her context for a decision that's already been made. Aegnor is already gone; Finrod is trying to relieve Andreth of feeling that it was somehow her fault, or that she didn't live up to Aegnor's expectations.

"Then why did he turn away? Why leave me while I had still a few good years to spend?"

"Alas!" said Finrod. "I fear the truth will not satisfy thee..."

Here, he gives the explanation about customs of the Eldar and marriage, and about Elves and memory (specifically about how Aegnor, as an Elf, may prefer to dwell in the happiness of their memories rather than proceed to a grim future). Andreth does not seem especially comforted by this. It's understandable. Andreth is very bitter, and not unfairly: She's bitter that her people are mortal while Finrod's are not; she's bitter that this mortality (in her mind) cost her the man she loved; she's bitter that Aegnor left her. Andreth's life has been hard: it's very understandable that she's angry about it. So it makes sense that Finrod's words don't really reach her where she is now. She isn't ready for that; she's still dealing with all of these other feelings. But I do believe that someday, this conversation will mean something to her. Someday, when Andreth is older and has more distance, I think it will mean something to her that Aegnor loved her, and that it was duty, not contempt, that kept him from her.

Finrod does express belief that marriage between Men and Elves is destined to be sorrowful, but this isn't an illogical position from the half of the equation doomed to live on without their partner, or from one of a species who may literally die from grief. Naturally Andreth thinks of how she could have spent her youth with him at least, while Finrod thinks of how much pain Aegnor would have been in as Andreth grew old and neared death.

"I would not have troubled him, when my short youth was spent. I would not have hobbled as a hag after his bright feet, when I could no longer run beside him!"

"Maybe not," said Finrod. "So you feel now. But do you think of him? He would not have run before thee. He would have stayed at thy side to uphold thee. Then pity thou wouldst have had in every hour, pity inescapable. He would not have had thee so shamed."

It is also relevant that they both speak, on this matter, in ignorance. Neither of them has experienced or even seen a marriage of mortals and Elves (none occurs before Finrod's death in Tol-in-Gaurhoth). They are both speaking only from the heart, from what they feel would be true about it. It's also relevant to remember the decision has been made. Finrod is perhaps trying to explain how hard the marriage would have been in part to make Andreth feel better about its nonexistence, because he knows Aegnor will not go back on his choice.

And on some level, Finrod sees that he isn't going to radically change her view on this one visit, and that's when he backs off.

"And what shall I remember?" said she. "And when I go to what halls shall I come? To a darkness in which even the memory of the sharp flame has been quenched? Even the memory of rejection. That at least."

Finrod sighed and stood up. "The Eldar have no healing words for such thoughts, adaneth," he said... He took her hand in the light of the fire. "Wither will you go?" she said.

Athrabeth ends on such a tender note, it has always in my mind contributed to seeing the conversation as an overall positive: that Finrod looks forward to seeing Andreth after death, that he places himself--almost tentatively (and what is the meaning of that em-dash, Tolkien?)!--alongside Aegnor in her future. He knows her time on Arda is short, compared to his own, but he doesn't want this to be the only time their souls have together. It ends with his holding her hand in her grief and giving her this blessing:

"Wither you go may you find light. Await us there: my brother--and me."

This is why I've always seen Athrabeth as such an intimate conversation which speaks to a deep level of friendship and respect between Andreth and Finrod. It deals with a lot of emotionally volatile things, which I think makes people inclined to see either of them (Andreth especially) as upset by the conversation, rather than the issues that they are discussing in it. But to me, again, that they were willing to have such a raw, open discussion with each other speaks volumes about how positively they see each other. They are so clearly trying to reach out to one another from two very different places in the world.

"Yes, Wise-woman, maybe it was ordained that we Quendi, and ye Atani, ere the world grows old, should meet and bring news to one another...indeed, that you and I, Andreth, should sit here and speak together, across the gulf that divides our kindreds..."

"Across the gulf that divides our kindreds!" said Andreth. "Is there no bridge but mere words?" And then again she wept.

They don't always make it, and sometimes they wound, but they are trying. And that counts for something.

#Finrod #Andreth #The Silmarillion #meta #mine #okay I did it #this is really only concerned with the relationship between Andreth and Finrod #not an analysis of their actual beliefs #tolkien tag

[doodle-pops]

Puppy Love

A/N: A little bit of fluff for the holidays :)

Words: 600

“Hey, where are you looking? Keep your eyes on me,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice commanding and gentle all at once.

You couldn’t deny that you had a tendency to avoid making eye contact with him. It was an intense experience that never failed to make you feel flustered. He had noticed this quirk of yours and took every opportunity to lock his gaze with yours, just to watch you stumble over your words and witness the bashful expression that would invariably spread across your cheeks. He found it endearing, and it became something of a playful game between you two.

His fingers reached out to pinch your cheeks between his larger hands, playfully squishing them together. He made it his mission to help you learn to maintain eye contact, but the task proved to be a challenge. So, he resorted to another tactic.

Peering at you from beneath his long lashes, his eyes took on a darker shade, focusing intensely on you. You felt the sensation of his gaze like a physical weight, and you bit your lip to resist the urge to look away. His hand on your chin held your head firmly in place, but despite his efforts, you blinked rapidly, trying to alleviate the intensity building inside you.

He couldn’t help but grin victoriously as he observed your struggle. “Eye on me, stars,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and mischief.

You gulped, aware that you were teetering on the edge of surrender. You longed to wipe that triumphant smirk off his face. For five more seconds, you held your gaze, determined not to give in. But eventually, you shifted your vision elsewhere, and he chuckled, releasing his hold on your chin.

Throwing his head back, he howled with laughter into the night sky, leaving you scowling in his direction, albeit under your breath. “I win. That last piece of cake is mine. I told you, you couldn’t beat me,” he declared, reaching for the final slice of marble cake and sliding the plate toward him.

“Whatever. It’s not my fault you have such beautiful eyes,” you grumbled, pausing midway through your disappointment to glance at him.

“Oh, come on. Didn’t you want to win the cake? I’m offering to share. Just one bite…” His smile widened as he enjoyed your sullen demeanour. He knew you wouldn’t stay like this for long; you just needed a little incentive.

His eyes flicked over to your sullen expression and pouting lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. Turning in his seat, he cut a small portion of his cake and wiggled the fork towards you. “Say ah…” He held a fork with a piece of cake poised before your lips.

Still sulking, you turned your head in the opposite direction, unwilling to share in his victory cake.

Setting the plate aside, he rested his hands on either side of your chair and leaned in to kiss your cheek. The moment his lips met your skin, you turned your head in disgust, prompting him to move to your lips. You squealed in protest, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. Your hands came up to cover your mouth, but he was undeterred. His hands moved to tickle your sides, causing your hands to drop and allowing his mouth to claim yours for a swift kiss.

“Are you done sulking, love, or are you going to pout some more because my eyes are beautiful?” he teased.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I have,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye, “but now I’m ready to beat you for good.” With that, you launched out of your seat, chasing him through the backyard of his parents’ house. The sound of your laughter filled the air, a joyful chorus that reached the ears of his parents, who sat nearby, smiling at the happiness their son had found.

Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Amras, Amrod, Fingon, Argon, Finarfin, Finrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Galdor, Egalmoth, Beleg, Elladan

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio

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#reactions #maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #celegorm x reader #amrod x reader #amras x reader #fingon x reader #argon x reader #finrod x reader #aegnor x reader #glorfindel x reader #galdor x reader #egalmoth x reader #beleg x reader #elladan x reader #finarfin x reader #silmarillion imagine #middle earth imagine #x reader insert #house of feanor #house of fingolfin #house of finarfin #house of elrond #lords of gondolin #doriath #silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #doodlepops writings ✨

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Elrond and Elros Series Ideas 2

For a framing devise, which maybe shouldn’t be revealed until maybe halfway through the first season, I think it’s probably Elrond explaining it to Bilbo as he tries to compile his songs and history extracts of the Old Tales and takes full advantage of any primary sources he can find. The story is interspersed with Elrond packing things away for his journey west, you see things like murials of ships coming to life at the start of an episode and rings being taken out of their boxes suddenly switching to a scene where you can see them on the hands of one of the characters of the show.

As a battle scene with Maedhros taking out an entire battalion of orcs single handedly (pun fully intended) fades out you can see the same sword carefully taken out of its intricate scabbard and despite the layer of dust it is sharp as ever as it is cradled in hands that clearly aren’t the scarred one’s from the scene. The finale absolutely has to end with Elrond balancing on the prow of the ship to Valinor with a soft smile on his face and one tear rolling down his cheek as he gazes at the horizon.

The framing will also serve to explain why most of the first half of the season or so, four or five episodes, are in a more broad strokes epic style with very few little details or casual dialogue, mostly it’s political and military discussions, it comes across as if it’s more a story that’s been passed down because it’s not from Elrond’s point of view. It’s mostly a large scale kind of story with big battle scenes and political drama.

This is juxtaposed with the clips of the twins and their relationship with the Feanorians in the camp and Maglor and Maedhros in which we see Elrond learning how to heal because he’s the only one there that can and there’s loads of really sweet emotional moments where it looks like Maedhros is finally starting to accept them and you get much more dialogue with little bits of humour as well because this is what Elrond remembers.

Basically it feels like an entirely different show about two feared war lords letting down their barriers in order to try and form a tentative bond with these scared children as they grow up and it’s a really moving subplot next to the main plot of armies fighting dragons and Balrogs and kings and lords trying to form stable alliances in the unnavigable situation that is elf politics (especially the Finarfin and Gil Galad High Kingship of The Noldor situation because there is a lot of mileage in that one.)

The first time we see the Third Kinslaying properly is a bit later in the season, there’s vague flashes that allude to it in the twin’s nightmares, is Oropher explaining to Thranduil that they mustn’t fully trust the Noldor which comes on the heels of intense political manoeuvring the entire episode between him and Gil Galad. He refers to how they destroyed two of their people’s cities and ended the line of their royal family in one brutal attack. The way this scene is done should definitely open up with warning bells ringing louder and louder as the camera cuts from Mirkwood to Sirion and the most menacing music possible plays over the Feanorians entering.

It absolutely has to be an intensely brutal scene, maybe not in the graphic violence sense but emotionally the destruction has to be devastating, buildings set on fire, maybe a toy in a child’s limp hand or something like that; it’s horrifying is the point. Elwing flings herself into the sea and it ends with Oropher looking over the burning wreckage from the distance, just a few hours too late, a thriving settlement reduced to nothingness in the space of a day.

The Sindar all believe the twins to be dead and no one ever speaks the name of Elwing’s child or children, it isn’t specified, because it’s such a dreadful tragedy; they don’t show Elrond and Elros as Elwing’s sons until the end of the first season when we see two six year olds hiding in a wardrobe in a burning building and suddenly there’s footsteps and the door is thrown open to reveal Maglor stained with blood.

It’s referenced previously that the twins guardians have a dark reputation and it may have already been said that they are the sons of Feanor who were responsible for the massacre so it’s not a leap for it to be confirmed that they found the twins through dubious means but this is the first time people who don’t have the background knowledge will see where the twins came from.

Elros might brandish a sword at him but Maglor slowly takes off his helmet off and tells him they won’t come to any harm. Eventually he manages to coax them out and takes them in his arms and just as the camera pans out over the wreckage of Sirion once more you can hear the hushed voices of a conversation something like this; Maedhros: Elwing’s sons? Truly Maglor? Maglor: Well who else will take them? We killed their mother after all.

#Silmarillion #tolkienfamilyweek #lotr #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #kidnap fam #maedhros #maglor #bilbo baggins #first age #war of wrath #ereinion gil galad #finarfin #Oropher #thranduil

[shrikeseams]

Post-canon reimbodiment is an endless font of potential social awkwardness, and tonight I am contemplating: a functional role swap between Finrod and Thingol.

Because you still have one extremely well-connected, socially and politically established leader, and the newcomer relative with a fragmented social/political group (you cannot convince me that the iathrim maintained much unity in thingol's absence) who has to ask for help establishing new territory for their group. And also the begging party had recently done the more powerful party some kind of injury, even if they can claim some degree of distance/plausible deniability.

Not that I think the Valar would deny the iathrim the right to some kind of territory of their own. But Thingol would have an uphill climb to re-establish himself, and I suspect would find himself much more estranged from Olwe (mutual abandonment) and Ingwe (passage of time and arguably demonstrated difference of values) than would be comfortable. He has more options in Aman than the Noldor did in Beleriand, but I cannot see him taking any loss of power/prestige with any degree of grace (since arguably that's also what happened at the start of the first age and he was pissy about it then, too).

Note: I realized partway through that Finarfin is much more solidly in Thingol's role (I doubt he'd be pleased with the guy whose damn fool quest got his son killed), but that doesn't have the social agony of Thingol finding himself needing the good will of someone who was once a supplicant to him. So. Less juicy.

#Tolkien #San shoots the breeze #I do think finarfin should get the chance to look thingol dead in the eye and speak only quenya to him #Let finarfin have his petty revenges. He's still a finwian! #Edited to correct typos

[the-elusive-soleil]

Some random headcanons I have for a Silm modern AU:

Feanor is the son of Finwe's ex-wife Miriel (they split more or less amicably due to the more kids/no more kids thing). There are more resources to help deal with this than in canon Valinor, so while Feanor isn't happy about the Indis and half-siblings situation, he's able to get to a place of mostly getting along with them.

Finwe made his money in investments--Aule Industries, Elentari Electric Co., Sulimo Aerospace...you get the picture.

Feanor could have gone to work for Aule Industries, but instead he struck out on his own as an inventor, and holds patents for several now-common items.

He's married to the famous sculptor Nerdanel. They've had their disagreements, but they're in couples therapy and working on sticking together.

Fingolfin is a state-level politician. He and Feanor mostly sort of get along provided everyone avoids certain topics.

Maedhros works for Fingolfin as a political fixer, which he is very very good at. Feanor has mostly made his peace with this.

Maglor went through a classical musical education, but eventually his hobby band Noldolante took off to the point that he went full-time with it. He's the lead vocalist and songwriter. Currently thinking their sound would be something like heavy metal but with the instruments and volume of acoustic folk.

Their musical rivals are the folk duo Nightingale Shadow, the brother-sister pair Daeron and Luthien Gray.

Celegorm got a job through his grandfather's friend Orome Aldaron at Aldaron LLC, an outdoor gear company resembling Cabela's, as a spokesperson/sponsored rep type of thing. He has a huge dog and tells a different story every time someone asks where he got him, and keeps trying to ask out Luthien from Nightingale Shadow (which drives Maglor nuts).

Caranthir is a stocks trader and financial advisor, which has made him wealthy enough on his own to rival Finwe. At some point, he announces his engagement (despite no one in the family knowing he was dating) to a small business owner named Haleth who takes none of his guff.

Curufin works with his father as a fellow inventor. He married an epidemiologist several years back, and they have a small son, Tyelpe, who is already being brought to an unbelievable number of "take your child to work" days. Everyone's bracing for the mad science to reach critical mass once Tyelpe's old enough to wield a screwdriver.

Amrod and Amras are still in high school and haven't confirmed a path in life yet, although they do quite a bit of Celegorm's social media stuff with him.

Fingon used to work with his father and Maedhros, but eventually decided that politics wasn't for him, and now runs a nonprofit to aid disaster victims. He and Maedhros frequently tease each other about how exhausted their respective careers are making them.

Turgon works in some capacity for the city government, which he claims is the level of politics where things actually get done.

Aredhel also works for Aldaron LLC as a spokesperson; sometimes she and Celegorm will collaborate on posts.

At some point, she starts a relationship with a guy named Eol, but leaves him when he turns out to be a controlling jerk. Post-breakup, she finds out she's pregnant, and ends up keeping the baby because Eol doesn't want her to do so and make him pay child support. She turns out a better mom than anyone expects.

Finarfin is some kind of lawyer working in conflict resolution and mediation. He is very good at it; he ought to be, given all the practice he's had.

Finrod owns an ethically sourced jewelry company. His brother Orodreth works for him.

Aegnor and Angrod are college students; Angrod is undeclared, but Aegnor is studying anthropology.

Artanis is in high school and the most politically minded teenager ever. She's in student government and on the debate team and Model UN, you name it. The family used to joke that someday she was going to rule a small country. They still say it, but it's become less and less of a joke over the years.

#silmarillion #modern au #headcanons #house of finwe #house of feanor #house of fingolfin #house of finarfin #not tagging all these characters #to maybe write someday?

[that-angry-noldo]

noldo!! if you're up to it, 'orodreth had done his best to avoid his father so far, with remarkable success,' for the 5 sentence ask?

Orodreth had done his best to avoid his father so far, with remarkable succes.

They saw each other, of course; it were Finarfin's eyes that looked at him when he stepped into his new home, it were Finarfin's hands that reached to him, unsure, and it was Finarfin who kissed his forehead and whispered yonya, yonya as if he forgot all the other words.

It was just that Finarfin's voice, once smooth and soothing like a river, was now like a coarse sand to Orodreth's ears; it was just that his words made Orodreth want to scream and to howl and to claw at his skin, it was just that his eyes were steady and soft, as if he was not changed, as if he did not care that Orodreth still saw the blue ice of Helcaraxë in his dreams, that all his sons died in torment, that Finduilas still has not left the Halls.

Orodreth avoided his touch like a burning brand and hid from his eyes like a mouse from a falcon. Eärwen's hands were still soft, and Finrod's embrace was as steady as ever; and it was enough.

He still called for his father in his sleep; but his chambers were empty, and he was no longer a child, and Finarfin did not hear him; Orodreth was alone, and it was dark, and there was no comfort in avoidance.

#thank you beloved! #orodreth #finarfin #silm fic #ask game #silmarillion

[echo-bleu]

Noldor hair headcanons (1/4)

With AO3 down, it seems like a good time for some good old tumblr bullet-point pseudo-fic (I'll post it on AO3 eventually).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Note: Inspiration for some parts of this came from @mynameisjessejk's wonderful Otter Mayhem series which you should go read when it's possible again.

The Noldor wear their hair in elaborate braids.

Hairstyle is a status thing, so noble Noldor have the most complex styles. They’re meant to show off craft, so there’s a lot of jewellery and gemstones involved, and the nobles’ hairstyles purposefully can’t be self-braided.

But touching hair is a very intimate thing and it’s never done by servants, always by family (spouse, siblings, parents or children). It’s a show of love and respect, if someone has a particularly complex hairstyle it’s supposed to mean that they’re well-loved.

Now Finwë as the king must have the most complex hairstyle of all. Míriel was of course very good at it, she’d weave and sew beads into his hair every morning, making each hairstyle a work of art.

When she fades, Fëanor is still really young, and he has to learn real quick to do his father’s hair, which he of course takes as a challenge. He starts making all of Finwë’s hair jewellery himself, he experiments with dozens of braiding styles. In the early months/years of their grief Finwë finds a lot of comfort in having his hair braided and they’ll both spend entire days beside Míriel’s body, with Fëanor braiding his father’s hair over and over.

Then Indis comes along, and hair braiding is traditionally the spouse’s work. It’s very hard for Fëanor not to feel like he’s been replaced (and not just his mother), especially since Indis has zero interest in it and Finwë’s hairstyles grow markedly simpler. Which is also not great for his reputation.

Nerdanel and Fëanor, once they marry, are extremely competitive and keep trying to outdo each other’s braids. It’s highly entertaining to outsiders, especially since it’s the only remnant of the Crown Prince’s more playful side. When little Maitimo comes out with red hair like Nerdanel’s, Fëanor bitches about having to make even more copper jewellery (he’s secretly overjoyed because he loves Nerdanel’s hair).

Fëanor is also careful to always have better braids than his half brothers, though Findis starts braiding Fingolfin and Finarfin’s hair as soon as she’s old enough, and she’s pretty good at it, unlike Indis.

Anairë’s hair texture is very different from anyone Fingolfin knows. He’s never been that into hair before, but he learns to do her braids with his tongue poking out. Once she figures out what to do with straight hair, she braids his into brand new styles that Fëanor is terribly jealous of.

Fingon has extremely thick kinky hair that takes a ridiculously long time to braid, and he’s very proud of it, thank you very much.

Thankfully for Fingolfin and Anairë, none of their other children have hair quite as thick.

Eärwen is Teleri and keeps her hair mostly loose. She wants none of that nonsense, especially not gems in her hair, come on. If she puts anything in her hair it’s gonna be pearls. She’ll do Finarfin’s hair if he really insists on it but if he wants the children to follow Noldor rites so much, he’ll have to take care of it himself. (He’s pretty good at it, actually.)

Maedhros and Fingon start doing each other’s hair in secret before Fëanor’s exile.

Celegorm switches from Noldor style to hunting braids when he joins Oromë’s hunt. They’re more practical and involve a lot less metal.

People have whole legends about how great it must be to braid Artanis’s hair, but it’s actually really fine and fragile and a nightmare. She insists that the only one who can do it right is Finrod. He tries to foist that chore on others a lot.

Aredhel and Curufin bond over hating to have their hair touched (sensory issues). Eventually they start doing each other’s hair because they know what to avoid.

Fëanor asking Galadriel for her hair is an Actual Taboo given that they’re not close (by the time Gimli asks, Galadriel has adopted Sindarin hair practices, but it’s also a fuck-you to Fëanor that she accepts).

At Losgar, (lightly-toasted) Amrod has part of his hair burned off. He is, after that, the very first elf to sport a side-cut, as hair won’t grow back over the scars. He never let anyone but his twin do his hair again.

Crossing the Helcaraxë, Fingolfin’s people try to keep up with tradition, but hair-braiding is hard when your fingers are constantly frozen stiff.

Still, Fingon insists on doing his father’s hair every day, even when he nearly loses fingers to frostbite.

He refuses to let anyone do the same for him, though, and he’s the first to start braiding his own hair. That’s when he starts braiding in golden ribbons, because they’re easier to do than beads, and frozen metal can burn skin.

Gradually they move away from long flowing braids and start making up crown-braid styles that protect their ears. As they progress, braiding becomes less and less about status and more and more practical.

Turgon and Elenwë (who adopted the Noldor style upon marrying) still keep to the tradition and braid each other’s hair and Idril’s right up until Elenwë dies. After that Turgon doesn’t let anyone touch his hair again until Gondolin (and then only Idril).

Finrod and Galadriel do each other’s hair. Galadriel’s fine, brittle hair suffers a lot in the cold, and for a long time she’s afraid that it will never go back to its former glory. It does eventually, but it takes decades.

In Beleriand, Maglor’s main contribution as King Regent is the invention of Mourning Braids (and also a slightly unhealthy number of laments).

Let’s be honest, he’s wearing them more for Maedhros than for Fëanor or Finwë, even though Maedhros is demonstrably still alive.

(No one thinks that will last.)

(Maglor can’t go save his brother and the guilt is staggering.)

(For some reason, Curufin is the one who does Maglor’s impossibly complex Kingly Mourning Braids.)

Then Helcaraxë Team arrives with their frozen fingers and their crown braids and It’s A Mess, Actually.

The Sun has just risen and Fingon’s golden ribbons are really blinding, no one can even look at him.

Listen, they haven’t had proper light in about forty years, they’re really light-sensitive now.

Everyone argues, Fingon makes at least two attempts to sneak out to Thangorodrim but he’s caught because he’s just way too shiny.

Third time’s the charm.

The only reason Maedhros doesn’t see him before he hears him is that he’s even more light-sensitive and just keeps his eyes closed. Also he’s tired. So very tired.

In Angband, Sauron took great pleasure in hacking Maedhros’s hair off and messing with it. When he’s rescued, what has regrown is a tangled, discoloured mess and they have to cut it all off.

Fingon stays with Maedhros a lot throughout his (physical) recovery, which in my mind takes at least the 55 years between his rescue and Dagor Aglareb, and he braids Maedhros’s hair every day, even at the start when it’s barely past his ear. Eventually Maedhros stops fighting and crying when someone touches his hair.

Mostly.

Fingon does tone down the golden ribbons eventually. Mostly because he runs out of Valinorian gold and has to do with Beleriand gold, which just isn’t the same.

To be continued.

#silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #the silmarillion #feanor #maedhros #maglor #fingon #turgon #idril #echo's fanfiction #noldor hair headcanons

[mortaltempless]

ours never knew peace, haladriel, soft-r

Artanis and Mairon meet in Valinor. Some things change, others...don't.

She was sat, a lock of her hair twirled around a pale finger, on a chair next to the fading embers of the fireplace. Her thin shift was translucent in the fading light, and her face was serious in a way that Mairon had become accustomed to of late. 

“You look like you’re deciding the fate of nations,” he prodded from the doorway. Artanis looked up at him and smiled weakly. 

“It has been a long day.”

He hummed in agreement as he came into her chamber and sat in the opposite chair. They had hardly seen each other for weeks, Artanis occupied with affairs far from Tirion. Even before that, his lover had been distant, less present than what he was used to. 

Mairon had spent her absence, not stewing, exactly, but rather contemplating. 

Artanis did not make a habit of involving him in her family affairs, so yes. 

It had taken him a while to understand.

“I saw your uncle today,” he told her, his voice filled with irony. Artanis played it off, offering a polite hum before turning her eyes rapidly to the fireplace. 

Mairon snorted.

“Did he look well?”

If he did not know his lover as well as he did, he would assume she was sincere in her question--a dutiful niece, asking after her brilliant uncle to the maia who perhaps saw him the most. 

Mairon raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“He was considerably more talkative than you,” he replied. Artanis looked away again, staring once more into the remnants of her fireplace.

He sighed. 

Of course he knew of Artanis’ enmity towards Feänor. Every soul in Valinor was aware of the dissent in the Noldorian ranks, and they had all long since made their decisions on who was the wronged party.

Few sided with the prideful princess.

“Aren’t you going to ask what he had to say?” he asked pleasantly. Finally, her eyes narrowed at him. Good, she was unwilling to be goaded. 

He had missed her suspicion of him. He might love her cries of pleasure, relish in her confidence in him, but part of Mairon missed the way she saw so little value in Aulë’s favourite servant. Getting under her skin was fun. 

He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. With a small flick of his wrist, the fire returned to life again. He grinned at her, but Artanis simply rolled her eyes at his theatricality. 

“Apparently he has renovation plans for your family’s beach palazzo,” he prodded. “New wing to the main building, perhaps a new lick of paint…”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“A new name on the deed,” he finished. Artanis stretched her legs before her in a feigned comfort. 

Yes, it had taken him a while to ascertain why, exactly, she had been so distracted lately. Why she insisted on being away so often, refusing to let him in to see her even in the dead of night when he knew no spying eyes were watching him enter her chamber. 

But he knew now.

Feänor cared little for leisure, but he loved reminding his brother who their family’s legacy belonged to. 

Mairon knew and cared little about how the elf-smith had teased the title for the palazzo from Finarfin’s grip, but he was aware the home held considerable value for Artanis.

Aegnor taught me to swim there. It holds good memories, and I want to go, she told him years ago on a night much like this one. Except, then she’d been naked and curled into his shoulder, her lips on his neck promising she’d return from the palazzo to him following her family’s absurd festival.

“You could have told me,” he said softly. Artanis sighed, standing and moving gracefully towards him. She draped herself in his lap, her legs softly bracketing his as his arms came around her. 

“It would have done little. My uncle is…a unique figure among our people,” she replied, a carefully hidden hurt creeping into her voice. Mairon’s hand smoothed down her back. He did not enjoy seeing her dejected.

Artanis was not meant to live in her uncle’s shadow. Not when her mind was as sharp, and her spirit so much lighter than the smith’s. 

But she was right, Feänor was untouchable.

“Perhaps,” the maia began, but then caught himself. Artanis was not the only one who kept secrets, and he knew her enough to understand why she would never consent to even listen to the one who called to him in the shadows.

Still, his lover prodded his shoulder. 

“What?” 

“Perhaps there are other ways to destroy an elf without a physical harm coming to him,” he finished. 

The words between them were barely spoken now, just filaments of language lying between their bodies like sticky spider webs.

Artanis considered.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, her lips careful on his ear and his thumbs rubbing circles into her thigh. 

“Well, what makes your uncle great?”

Artanis paused and thought, her brow furrowing. Mairon pressed a light kiss to her jaw before her blue eyes flicked to his.

“His influence with grandfather,” she began and wound her arms around his neck, adjusting their bodies so their hips were flushed together. “and his genius.”

Mairon nodded, moving his hand under her shift so he could feel the bare skin of her back. He kissed her, opening her lips softly with his tongue. 

“What else?” he whispered against her once they parted. Artanis’ nimble fingers untied his own breeches, her soft hand reaching for his hardness as a small smirk appeared on her face.

“His skill as a smith,” she said, giving his cock a gentle pump. Mairon squinted at her teasing. She let out a breathy chuckle, putting her open mouth to the pulse point on his neck. “Well, you asked.”

Mairon patted her thigh, encouraging her to lift herself onto his cock. She let out a soft sigh as he entered her. 

“You don’t need to kinslay to deprive him of that,” he told her as he rocked her forward, her nails entering his shoulder as she gripped him with a pleasurable hum. 

“And then?” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his as she canted her hips in just the way he liked. 

“He won’t have a thing left to his name,” Mairon promised. Artanis gasped in pleasure. “He will be no more than a man.”

She rode him more forcefully, her blindingly bright hair clasped between his fingers to steady her as she reached between her own legs. 

“We will do this together?” she asked, her eyes pleading. He nodded silently.

“I will make enquiries,” he stuttered out, bucking his hips harshly up, causing Artanis to lose her rhythm. Her hiss was pleased, and she kissed him roughly, her hand spanning the front of his throat. “You are not the only one who would see the end of Feänor.”

#trop fic #galadriel x sauron #haladriel #my fic #corrupted in valinor au #i posted this on ao3 and then almost immediately deleted it #this is an experiment to see if tumblr will be more preferrable for my mental health lol #otp: bind yourself to me