#i was struck by sudden fingolfin feels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

actual-bill-potts · 1 year

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tell me about trans fingolfin 👀

ok so!!!!!

- finwë and indis have 3 children. their first child they name findis: a living symbol of their love. findis is followed closely by irimë, their laughing middle child, and finally their little arafinwë.

- (fëanáro does not care for his younger siblings. but—the eldest of them follows him with adoring eyes. they none of them look much like finwë, findis and irimë small and willowy in the way of the vanyar and arafinwë with his golden hair. he, fëanáro, is finwë’s eldest and most beloved son. they are no threat. slowly he warms to his new playmates, and soon they all four are rampaging through tirion and beyond, fighting dark shadows on a Great Journey of their own—always led by fëanáro, of course.)

- meanwhile, findis has never felt quite comfortable, always feeling as though something is missing. but it’s a trip to valmar and meeting a little Maia who looks first like a ner, then a nís that changes everything.

- (the maia says, "your name is not findis, i think," and findis realizes with a lurch that—no, not findis.)

- (then who?)

- upon returning, findis goes to indis and says, "i need a new name."

- and indis looks deep into the eyes of her eldest child and says, "you have come early to knowledge of the self." and with the touch of foresight all those of her line possess, she looks beyond and says, "this knowledge is but the beginning of your wisdom." and so she named her son nolofinwë, for she saw that in wisdom he would surpass his father.

- upon learning of this, finwë insists on throwing a party to celebrate his second son and unveil the name his wife had given him.

- fëanáro has long departed tirion, cleaving to nerdanel and leaving behind the crowds who saw in him only his mother long gone. leaving behind the siblings who should not have been. but he doesn’t leave them in anger; the memory of being their leader in play, their beloved older brother, still pierces his heart.

- when he comes back, he sees nolofinwë in richly arrayed robes similar to those fëanáro wore when he was presented at court. he sees his brother named wise finwë, when he himself is only skillful; is his father prouder of nolofinwë than of his eldest? and worse, the worst blow of all: nolofinwë looks like his father. if not for his small stature, nolofinwë could have been a mirror of fëanáro. and this fëanáro cannot bear.

- he storms up to his father, heedless of his audience. "i see that a skillful son was not enough for you; wise your second son may be, but the works of his hands will never surpass mine. why then do you seek to replace me? have you fully forsaken therindë’s memory at last?"

- finwë is struck dumb, bewildered by his eldest’s sudden rage. behind, nolofinwë speaks up: "fëanáro, i love thee and would never seek to replace thee. why do you speak thus, when i have ever loved and followed you?" but he was hurt, to see a much longed-for change greeted by such anger.

- fëanáro is past reaching. he snarls at his brother, "son of finwë you may be, but brother of mine you are not. a half-brother only, and if my father seeks to replace me with a pale imitation then he is welcome to take nolofinwë to make up for his folly."

- from then on, things are tense in tirion.

- and when nolofinwë says, that fateful day, "two sons at least thou hast to honor thy words," fëanáro can barely restrain himself from running his (half)-brother through.

- nevertheless in his grief, the wisest of the children of finwë remembers the young, hurt playmate he had as a child, and swears that he will be a full brother to fëanáro, willing or unwilling.

- in endórë, much goes wrong.

- nolofinwë, thinking bitterly of two sons at least thou hast to honor thy words, names himself for the first time: finwënolofinwë.

- but grief-stricken, he thinks of full brother in heart i will be when he is staring down at the ruined form of maitimo.

- and when maitimo barely recognizes his own form and wants to rip his own skin from his bones—nolofinwë can speak from experience.

- when finwënolofinwë is about to be crushed beneath the heel of morgoth, his last thought is of his mother. ammë, he thinks wryly, am i wise still? what would you say, what would you name me now?

- (but indis was right, and when she someday sees her lovely wise son again, she will tell him so.)

#nolofinwe #fingolfin #bullet point fic #feanor #Silmarillion #my scribblings

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outofangband · 5 years

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(For an anon who requested a short piece about Maedhros and Fingolfin after Maedhros’s rescue. Warning: this deals with post traumatic stress disorder, implied and referenced torture, and panic attacks. I focused mainly on Fingolfin’s interpretation of Maedhros’s behavior as it’s from his point of view but if anyone has questions about why Maedhros acted in a certain way or about anything else, please feel free to ask!) (also anon, I hope this fits your prompt well enough, please let me know if you want something different!)

I am writing into the night for I do not believe I will be able to find sleep. I went to speak with Nelya today after he was convinced by me to take a tonic to help with some of the pain he was still experiencing in his arms and legs. I had hoped that he might be able to find some peace which clearly the pain and agitation he was suffering prevented. I was wrong. Although he did not seem quite as restless as he had been over the past fortnight, Nelya retained the slightly glazed and disoriented look in his eyes that had so troubled many of the healers. I know that if they too discovered the events of this evening I would be unable to quell the rumors that had been threatening to burst from within our ranks for months. But I fear that if I do not record this, at the very least in the privacy of my own journals, I will simply lie in my own bed and mull over it there. As I stated, Nelya seemed more...still, but there was nothing relaxed or peaceful about his expression when I entered his small room in the healing hall to bring him water. Nelya sat up in bed, his eyes unfocused when I opened the door but as I stepped in his posture became sharper, alert, and definitely frightened. His eyes followed me intently as I brought up a chair and sat at his bedside. Despite the numerous times we had repeated this ritual, my nephew’s fear never lessened. He would not tear his eyes away from me, as though afraid I would make a sudden movement or attempt to harm him. Not that this was particularly surprising given what he had endured but I was hoping the tonic might alleviate this slightly. His voice was small and trembling when he answered my questions. Was he well? Yes, uncle. Was he still in pain? I do not know, Uncle. Throughout this exchange, he kept his head bowed in an obviously submissive manner though his eyes darted up to me every few seconds. It saddened me greatly to see him so afraid, and more so, afraid of me. I wanted to reassure him that of course I would not harm him, that he was safe here but I felt somehow that this sudden declaration would worry him more. So I helped him hold the cup to drink, smiling gently when he continued to look towards me every few moments. His hands trembled. His entire being seemed to tremble. I kept one hand on his back in a gesture of what I hoped was comfort but now, after having observed Nelya’s reactions, I am no longer sure. Once he had finished, his eyes rested on me, widened like those of a deer. I wondered if this was an effect of the tonic or merely another result of the state of half delirium he had been in for so long. Perhaps the tonic had even exacerbated some elements of it. “Nelya,” I remember saying, my hand still on his back, “If there is anything that I can do, to make you feel safer, or at least less frightened, I would like to.” I had hoped that I would see some flicker of recognition if not relief at this but if anything, Nelya appeared more frightened. His brow was furrowed in confusion as though he truly could not gauge my intent. This was something I had observed in him before, he never seemed sure of whether or not he could trust me. Once again, I was not offended by this, it was only to be expected but it did sadden me. With a small sigh, I took my hand off his back. That was when a change came over him. Though I did not observe that my hand there had been comforting to Nelya, his eyes lit up with what I can only call distress when I moved it. Or perhaps he took my sigh of acceptance for the situation as it was now for an expression of disappointment or even exasperation with him. Indeed, Nelya had seemed hyper aware of even the slightest changes around him and I can only assume that he somehow misconstrued this small signal as a warning sign of some sort. “I am sorry!” he suddenly exclaimed in a louder voice than I had heard from him in weeks. It took me a moment to try and figure what he might have been trying to apologize for. Perhaps I looked as startled as I felt for Nelya’s own fear grew. His eyes closed in a wince as though expecting me to rebuke him, or even to strike him. I felt helpless, for my part. I had no idea what to say next that would not somehow cause the situation to escalate. His shoulders were hunched, he seemed to be trying to curl up around himself. I had a sudden vivid image of Nelya in that same position but with someone else standing over him, someone with a much different intent, horror and despair thick as fog in the air. “I...I will do what you like, Uncle,” Nelya spoke suddenly, as though trying to force himself to get out the words. His voice was desperate, his fingers twitched as though part of him wanted to grab me, I was his last salvation. I could do nothing but stare for another few moments which I am sure did not help at all for Nelya’s words became more scrambled and frantic. “You can do what you like, I...” he winced again, “J-just tell me, I will do what you like.” Though he did not speak it, I could not help but think there was something else underneath his pleas, something more bleak. You do what you like, I deserve it. I shook my head and leaned forward slightly. “Nelya,” I spoke as softly as I dared, “You do not have to do anything now. Please, nephew, just rest. You are weary and in pain. I do not require anything of you now.” I knew there was far more that I needed to reassure him of but somehow I felt that I would cause more distress if I attempted this at the moment. I waited until Nelya’s eyes became glazed again and he leaned back, still watching me warily. He swallowed nervously as I stood, still trying for a gentle smile though I admit I felt not a little frazzled by the time I closed the door. Time and again I tried to tell myself that what Nelya had said to me was merely the result of the tonic which of course I would not have him take again. It made him more nervous, paranoid even. Yet there was something in his words that struck me deeply and had me feeling cold and unsettled. The tonic did not make him think he had needed to say that and yet I did not quite see what he had endured in the past many years would cause him to act in such a way, unless...I knew there was somewhere that thought wanted to go and yet I would not allow it. Not even hear where I know there was no fear of discovery. Unfinished I can simply allow myself to wait and hope I am wrong.

#fingolfin #maedhros #The Silmarillion #short writings #Post Angband

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