Well, you see your honour, Maeglin is my special little guy and I believe he has done nothing wrong ever.
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I love how Tolkien always punishes the men who mistreat women in Middle-earth. For all the evidence of sexism in his work, besides the amazing female characters he does include, fate in Arda always rewards chivalry and punishes sexual abuse.
One of many things that make Aragorn a hero is that he remains faithful to Arwen, even when being pursued by another woman.
One of many things that make Faramir a hero is that he treats Éowyn as an equal and showers her with the respect she deserves.
And both men live long, happy lives.
Whereas the chauvinists have…different outcomes.
Eöl is punished by death for being so awful a husband to Aredhel that she and their son had to flee from him.
Maeglin himself intentionally gets Gondolin destroyed just because he is lusting after Idril and trying to steal her when she is happily married to someone else, and his ultimate kidnapping attempt causes him to end up at the bottom of a cliff.
Ar-Pharazôn’s comeuppance for forcing Tar-Míriel into marriage and stealing her rightful crown is a total wipeout by Eru Ilúvatar himself.
Tolkien really said “Predators and abusive husbands shall never go unpunished.” 🎉👏🏻
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There is a horn. It is nothing special, made from the tusk of some beast that Aredhel barely even recalls felling.
There had been many such beasts on The Ice after all.
The horn had found its way into her luggage and over so many restless nights watching over little Idril she had made it.
It does not compare to those that The Hunt had used in Aman, bound as it is with scant strips of leather and metalwork repurposed from a necklace that she could not wear on The Ice.
But it is hers. And it is precious, in a strange way.
She does not take it when she leaves her brother’s city. It remains, untouched, in her rooms.
It watches as she slowly fades from a poison bestowed by her husband.
The horn is given to her son, yet he has no use for it. A love of hunting and the great outdoors was not anything she passed on to her only child.
It is gifted to another, to a child borne of his cousin, a more precious gift than perhaps his cousin realises.
(One of the few pieces he has of his mother. A wish and a warning and an apology all at once.)
Somehow it survives the Fall. Somehow it ends up in Sirion.
It does not burn in the destruction. Nor is it taken by the Sons of Feanor as they take their hostages.
It lies, abandoned on the floor, until the King comes (too late) to the aid of the city.
There are too few survivors, but they can ill afford to leave any supplies behind. And besides, Gil-Galad can recall his cousin placing a strange solemn honour upon the hunting horn.
It sits, unused, until the Sons of Earendil are returned to their king, whereupon it, aged and yet bearing a presence is returned to them.
There is little argument over which of them gets that piece of their father when it is time for them to separate. The elder twin takes it, as he took their foster father’s sword. The younger is content with a silver harp and the book of their mother’s herblore.
Elros takes it with him. A symbol of his House, and honour for his heir to bear.
Down it goes, down down down the generations until there is little but a drop of Numenorian blood left in its bearer.
It crosses oceans and continents and Ages of the World, survives battles and sieges and the falls of Great Cities and Great Kings until all that is left is a Steward upon his throne sending a son to find answers for a dream.
Finally, on the shores of a river, overlooked by statues of the Kings of Old, the horn is blown for the last time.
It is blown to summon aid, to draw attention, to allow those it’s bearer would protect the chance to escape.
It takes three arrows to take down the horn’s bearer, and the Falls of Rauros to finally grant the horn rest.
The Horn of Aredhel Maeglin Earendil Elros Numenor Gondor is no more.
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