#manwe is the golden child

[wonderingboat]

After four years of voyage, Vingilote arrived at Eldama.

How long did Earendil walk alone then, with bare feet, to cross the Chasm of Calacirya, and arrive at the white city Tirion upon Túna？

Half a day? One day? Three days? ... Ten days?

What was he thinking then? What did he look like as he walked on this beautiful land, the land where his grandfather, his mother had been born, grew up, and then left? He was walking toward the city that they had once loved so much…… but he refused to be followed by his wife or sailors, for he was sure in the heart that he was heading towards certain death and a judgment under the wrath of gods.

And still, he kept walking, all by himself, what was he thinking, during this lonely march?

What was he thinking, when he stepped into the White City, the city he had never seen before, but weirdly, it felt like home? Would he think, for a second, he had stumbled into another dream concocted by the Enchanted Isles?

The street looked so familiar, as if for the next moment, a blond Lord with gold flowers would appear around the corner, grinning. The fountains seemed to come from his dreams, as if he could hear some music playing in them. The tree, looked just like the one he had touched when he was a little boy, only taller and brighter -- just as he remembered Gondolin in a dream.

So he called out, in his native tongue... call out for whose name? He was no longer six years old, and he had crossed the whole wide sea to this land, he was ready for his destiny...

But it was so like breaking into a dream, an illusory, that he had dared not mention a bit ever since that day, the day that Gondolin fall.

He hurried through every street, tower, square, junction, as if a golden-haired child was running before him to lead the way, and was calling every name that he has remembered.

Through the crevice of the mountain, there was a green hill, on the green hill, there was a white city.

These names that had existed once in this white city and that white city, so with every language he had learned, in the empty, homelike city, he called them, over and over again. For a moment, he thought that someone would appear with a smile to welcome him home, there will be light footsteps in the glittering streets, just like before.

Empty, empty, the city is empty.

He could not cry anymore, his throat was hoarse, his tears were dry.

What was he thinking when he finally decided to turn around and quit?

... And then he heard, far away, from the empty city, the voice of the Manwe's messenger.

"Hail Earendil! "

He was in the blessed land, the Undying Lands, he was standing on the land that he had only learned from legend.

He was a messenger, just like his father.

It was an unfamiliar city he had stepped into.

It was not home.

#earendil #silmarillion #the silmarillion #gondolin

[saelwen]

Manwë x Reader

Manwë x Reader

Request by a lovely anon:

Just an idea. How about Manwe and reader who is Melkor's child. Manwe decided to take care of reader and raise them after finding them alone. Reader grows to be good person and a bit of a troublemaker but never means bad. Wich Manwe is proud of them and supports them whenever they need his help. What do you think about this idea?

Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, super protective Manwë

Words:1,700

A small whimper grabbed the attention of the Valar’s King while he was walking peacefully in the massive gardens of Lórien. A deep frown on his soft features, Manwë follow the quiet sobs which led him to a giant tree. He looks behind it and saw a small child curled into a ball, crying quietly.

“Hello, child,” he said with a gentle voice.

You jump in surprise, looking up to him with big e/c eyes that were shining with tears. Your h/c hair tangled in a messy knot, with sticks stuck on it. Your black dress was all dirty and ripped, only covering the essential. You curled further and try to crawl away from him.

“P..Please...Don’t hurt me!” you whimper, lifting your hand to cover your face which Manwë notice that was broken.

He walks slowly closer to you, sitting down in one knee. “It’s alright, child...I'm not going to hurt you.” he grabs your hand gently, stroking his thumb softly against your bruised skin. “Where are your parents, child?” he said while looking around, confused by not seeing anyone around.

You let out a sob and shook your head, fat tears running down your cheeks. “I don’t know who is my nana but...but I know my ada...” you took a deep breath and look to your broken hand. “He’s really a bad person...” you whisper.

Manwë puts his other hand over your broken hand and closes his grey eyes. A bright light appears in his hand, it was warm against your skin. And like that, your hand was good as new. Your eyes widen when he took his hand off, seeing your s/c skin free of bruises. He smiles gently down to you and pushes a piece of hair out of your face, putting behind your pointy ear.

“There! All fixed up!” he stood up and extended his hand to you which you grabbed quickly since he was the first person who was kind to you and you felt safe in his presence. “What’s the name of your father?” he asked while leading you out of the garden.

You look around, watching in awe the beautiful butterflies flying around. “Melkor!” you said innocently.

As Manwë heard your words, stops walking and look down at you with a frown on his face. His ice-blue eyes studying you closely. “...Melkor?...” he whispers.

You nod and let out a small whimper, cleaning new tears from your eyes. “Y..Yes...Do you know him?” you asked.

He sighs and picks you up gently, walking towards a big mountain. “Yeah... I know him,” he whispers, almost to himself.

You cuddle your face into his neck, sighing happily as you let sleep take over you.

---

Years have passed and Manwë, along with his Queen, Varda, watches you grow into a beautiful and strong elleth.

He took you under his wing when he saw that there wasn’t any darkness in you. You didn’t inherit Melkor’s evil nature, you were only one of his poor victims. Abused during your first years of life, your life on his wicked hands for him to play.

The first time Varda saw you, you quickly had her wrapped around your little finger. You two passed the days walking in the gardens or watching the stars at night, Varda explaining to you every single star. She spoiled you with all she got, saying that she has to make you happy the rest of your immortal life since you had such terrible childhood in the hands of that psychopath.

The other Valar were a little suspicious of you, especially Aulë. It some time for them to warm up to you, to see that you didn’t possess darkness in you. But it only took a smile and giggle from you to melt those Gods’ hearts.

As you grew up, Manwë found out that you were a little troublemaker. Always pulling pranks on every Valar. It was chaos at first, Manwë had to spend one entire day listening to them complaining about your pranks.

Your pranks were soft but a little annoying and Manwë saw any malicious on them and try very hard to not laugh when Ulmo walk in covered in bubbles, saying that you put liters of liquid soup on the ocean, making an explosion of bubbles. But that quickly got under the control when you become a young adult yet you still are mischief and brave little thing in every Valar eyes.

---

“Ada!” your voice echoed through the throne room. You have been trying to find him all day, wanting to share the wonderful news with him. “Ada! Where are you?!” you shouted in annoyance, noticing the poor nervous ellon behind you looking around with wide eyes.

“My sweet child...Why all the shouting?” Manwë said calmly as he and Varda walked into the throne room. A huge smile spreads through your face as you saw them, running into his soft embrace. He kisses your forehead and let you embrace your mother, Varda.

“Ada! Nana! I want you to meet Lord Maedor!” you said, pointing to the shaking ellon in the middle of the room as he looks to the two powerful Valar. “He and I are courting! He asked me today!” you said with a cheerful voice, a massive smile on your lips.

Manwë looked to the golden-haired ellon with a silver eyebrow lifted, looking up and down to him. “Oh really?” he asked, his voice almost come out like a growl which made Varda put her delicate hand on her husband’s shoulder and taking a step forward, putting herself between Manwë and the poor ellon.

“That’s wonderful news, my daughter!” she said with a sweet smile. “Come! Let’s heard your story while we drink some tea!” Varda took her husband’s hand and led him to the large balcony, there were a table and comfortable chairs waiting for you four. She asked the servant to preparer some tea and sat down, pulling Manwë to his seat beside her.

You and Maedor took your seat and smile at each other, his eyes shining with passion. Manwë let out a cough, grabbing the attention of the two of you. “When you two met?” he asked firmly while looking to Maedor.

The poor ellon look to you and smile softly. “I met your lovely daughter during a trip to Valmar market,” he said gently, grabbing your hand and stroking your skin with his thumb. “We bumped into each other and at that moment, Y/n stole my heart.” you two giggle at the memory which made Manwë almost break the armchair under his firm grip.

“That’s very cute!” Varda squeals, clapping her hands together. “You two make a lovely couple!” at those words, a hard gush of wind run through you four, making you and Varda look to Manwë in confusion.

The four of you pass the rest of the day together, sharing stories and drinking tea. During the day, Manwë all ever wanted was to kick the ellon out of his palace. Telling him that his sweet child is off-limits. His daughter can’t be courting! She’s his little girl!

When the day came to an end, you along with Manwë and Varda, took Maedor to the massive doors of the Palace. “It was good to meet you, Lord Maedor! I hope to see you again soon.” Varda said with a soft smile.

“It was an honor to meet you two, Yours Graces!” Maedor said while bowing to Manwë and Varda.

The King of the Valar only nods, not saying anything which made Maedor shake in his boots. When Eonwë led Maedor out of the Palace, you turn to your mother and smile.

“Nana, could you please let me have a word with ada alone?” you asked while eyeing your father, who was now with a massive smile on his lips.

“Of course, sweetheart!” with that, Varda returns to her chambers, leaving you alone with your father.

There was a long silence in the room, the silver light of the moon bathing you two. You took a deep breath and look to Manwë, putting your hands on your waist.

“Can you please tell me why did you do that?!” you asked, your voice firm.

Manwë looks to you with innocent eyes, trying to look like he didn’t do anything wrong. “Did what?” he asked.

That made your head fume. “Did what?! You almost beheaded Maedor with your glares!” you snarl while walking back and forth. “You should be glad since I've fallen in love with a beautiful, good ellon! And on top of that, he’s a Vanyar! Aren’t they your favorites?!”

Manwë let out a sigh and look down, a silver curtain covers his face. “You’re right... I behaved like an orc.” his voice was full of shame which made your face soften. “I know you are a strong adult elleth but in my eyes...you are still my little girl... and I'm afraid that someone takes you from me.”

His gentle words made tears sting your eyes, trying to escape. “Oh, ada... No one will take me from you and even if they try, they would feel your wrath.” you giggle, cleaning a tear from your eye. “Maedor is a good ellon and he would never do anything to hurt me.” you walk to him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to a bear hug. “Will you promise me that you will give a chance to Maedor?” you whisper.

Manwë sighs and nods, resting his chin on your head. “I promise...but if he hurt you, me and your uncles Tulkas and Aulë will have a word with that punk.” you giggle and roll your eyes.

“I love you, Ada.”

“And I love you, my sweet little daughter.”

Hey Guys!! Here’s a new one shot with Manwë! I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!

XOXO

#manwë x reader #manwe fanfiction #manwe fanfic #manwe imagine #Manwë Súlimo #daughter!reader #melkor fanfic #one-shot #The Silmarillion #Silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion fanfic #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion one shot #silmarillion imagine #fantasy #fanfic #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings #the hobbit #Valinor #middle earth #middle earth imagine #middle earth x reader #fluff #Fanfic Request #request anon #tolkien #JRR Tolkien #My writing

[lushthemagicdragon]

I don’t often write fluff but when I do, it’s extreme sap. Behold, a handfasting ceremony. 

Swear Me No Oaths But One Maedhros/Fingon The Silmarillion Rated PG

Here @ AO3 

They took to their horses on the eve of their leaving for the shore. They bridled the pair themselves, leaving the stable boys to rest before the long ride ahead. No one need know of their passing, across the fields with packs full of candles and cloth. Findekano took the lead with great intent, directing the horses while Maitimo kept eyes around to see if they had been spotted or followed; The last ride of Findekano and Maitimo through the lands of Aman.

The whole thing had been Findekano’s idea to begin with, ever one to take wild notions and bring them into fruitful reality by the sheer power of his will alone. Laying together in their distant privacy, still within earshot of Macalaure’s singing, they stared up at the sky above and mulled over the bitter agreement between their fathers. Maitimo spoke with calm confidence, the tongue of a son raised for diplomacy, a boy who weathered a father’s temper alongside the rambunctious behavior of six brothers and more cousins alike. He spoke of the journey across the sea, of the provisions they would need and the hardships they would face. He spoke of soft beds they would sacrifice for their freedom, and Findekano watched him parse Feanor’s words with his own brand of rational thinking. Findekano watched, he listened, he turned onto his side to face his cousin when he had heard enough dancing around the issue that concerned him most.

“But you don’t want me to come with you.”

Maitimo hesitated, his lips tightening in the way they always did when he struggled to find just the right words for how he felt about a matter of great importance.

“I never said that. I would never say that.”

“You didn’t need to. I think I know by now when you’re trying to be self-sacrificing for what you believe is best.”

Again Maitimo was quiet, his eyes fixed on the sky above, the clouds that passed with gentle ease.

“Neither of us know what waits for us across the sea. None of us know beyond Grandfather’s stories, and with him gone, we have only the idea of wilderness and our own power of will to guide is.”

“If you’re going to imply that I’m weak willed Maitimo--”

“I think you are so strong willed that you will go head-first into any danger that approaches, believing wholly that doing what is right will keep you safe from harm.”

“And am I not allowed a choice in this?”

“Fino…”

“Look at me, Maitimo.”

Maitimo did as he was told, and Findekano met that stubborn concern in his lover’s eyes and the tension in his jaw with a stubbornness of his own; an assured security in his convictions. Findekano smiled, and he brushed a strand of hair back behind Maitimo’s ear.

“I will not tell you that I will be anything but myself. I will not tread carefully and linger behind while others fight my battles for me. I’m reasonably sure that you love me for who I am, not for some far off idea that I could be anyone else. Am I wrong?”

Maitimo chuckled with a gentle shake of his head. “I love you for everything that you are.”

“Then how could you possibly believe that I would stay behind? I would fade if I were to remain. I would become a shadow of myself without our family, without purpose, without you. I would follow you to the ends of the world.” Findekano reached out to hold Maitimo’s cheek in his hand, and his thumb stroked the gently freckled cheek beneath it. “You are a part of me as if I were your husband or your wife. I would marry you if that would convince you to dismiss the idea that I would be anywhere but by your side and in your confidence.”

Maitimo’s hand joined Findekano’s upon his cheek, his jaw relaxing under affection.

“You know as well as I do that our fathers would never allow it.”

“They wouldn’t need to know.”

“You’re not serious.”

The trees in the Garden of Lorien twinkled brighter with fireflies, made visible by the shadow of the wood. The choice of location had been hard thought and discussed. They could not do this by traditional means and still remain secret. No, not under the eyes of Varda and Manwe, nor in the halls of Tulkas and Nessa. To do this in the home of Irmo and Este, though, was a promise of something quieter and deeper than some raucous ceremony. They tied their horses to a tree and made their way, hand in hand and off the path towards the house of healing. Around they went to the other side of the lake, hidden from the view of any healers that might be awake by the island itself.

What would Feanor say if word of their actions were to get back to him from the woods where Miriel lay to rest? What would Fingolfin say of his son’s boldness, on the eve of fragile truce? Findekano found a spot for them upon the shore of the lake where only the eyes of the Valar themselves could see and witness. Stones laid in a circle, packs of candles empties and lit between stone and pebble. Findekano plucked flowers gently from the trees to place between each candle, each stone, and in his focus he missed Maitimo doing the same. Maitimo caught him off guard at his work, sliding a single blossom behind one ear, and another into a braid.

“If we’re going to disturb Irmo’s rest with our secrecy then you may as well look the part of a bridegroom.”

Findekano laughed, and flowers found their way wound into Maitimo’s hair as well, and in between Findekano’s golden ribbon and dark locks. Within a button-hole, hooked playfully in a belt buckle. It was perhaps too many flowers taken in the night, but the lovers laughed quickly between kisses, and Findekano lead Maitimo by the hands into the circle they had made.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Hands squeezed together before Findekano brought forth a sash from his pack. There had been no time to have one made for the occasion. There would be no elaborate embroidery befitting the House of Finwe, no ceremony beyond their circle of light and stone and earth. Only a sash plucked from Aredhel’s wardrobe, in the colours of both families. Findekano began to sing as he wrapped their left hands together. That soft wedding melody often carried by more voices than one. With no chorus to sing for their vows, harmony came only when Maitimo joined in. Findekano’s tenor and Maitimo’s baritone rang together as only music could, with spirit and soul in every word and note that passed from lovers lips. With left hands tied Findekano took up the edge again and.

Stopped.

“Fino.”

“Don’t say it.”

“How are you going to finish this exactly with one hand?”

Maitimo did his very best not to chuckle at the glare he received, and at the dedication with which Findekano approached this problem. Findekano tied the sash around both of their hands loosely, tucking the edge and, with the bite of his teeth, pulled the edge tight.

“That should do.” Findekano remarked proudly, testing the strength with a gentle tug of his right hand. Not too much tugging and the thing would stay for the time being. “It seems that I have a gift for working one-handed. Should anything happen to my left I think I would do just fine.”

“You would be wasted without both of your hands, Fino.”

“You never know, I could learn to nock an arrow with my teeth.”

“I would rather you never had to.”

The trees smelled so richly of their flowers. The ones still attached to their trees and those entwined in their hair, surrounding the lovers as they smiled. They had not learned yet in their youthful innocence of Thingol and Melian across the sea, and yet the trees seemed to speak to them like visions. The forest home of Irmo spoke words of devotion across the sea that they could not yet comprehend, of trials weathered and burdens carried in the bonds of love. So heavy the heart would seem to Irmo without Este to bring the ever present calm of trust.

“I feel as if I could sleep, rest here for eternity with you, just as we are in this moment.” Fidekano’s hands squeezed Maitimo’s under the fabric bonds of matrimony. Maitimo leaned in to press a gentle kiss upon his lover’s cheek, lingering for a moment in their closeness.

“Best that we not let Irmo lure us from our duties then, for I would have you for every day to come and not only for a moment in the woods.”

Crickets chirped their melodies and fireflies lit their circle. The witnesses had come. Onto them Este smiled. Maitimo continued.

“I have always known that I would need to marry. It is my responsibility, as it is yours, to father sons and daughters in the lines of our fathers and our mothers. I have known this my whole life, but no wife or mother of children has ever driven my passions. None, when there was you. You who grew from presumptuous child to presumptuous adult before my eyes and insisted on being known. You who have known my mind and my heart above all, who has put words to the most difficult of thoughts and action to the most difficult of struggle. You who has supported me and and whom I would keep by my side through all trials that await us across the sea. The responsibilities will come. I will need wife and child, and in the eyes of our people I will need marry as responsibility sees fit, but you will always be first. If this must be our secret then our secret it will remain into the end of all things. I worry on what is to come, and in true form you have taken my worry and turned it into hope. Findekano I will love you through any and all things, of this you have my solemn oath. Without you I am nothing.”

The trees rustle and in the calm of Este’s smile the oath worries none but the trees themselves.

“Do not swear such an oath to me Maitimo, without me you are as vibrant as you are now. You are the star in my sky and light of my life, and in your eyes I see the very best of us. You who have carried the weight of the family upon your shoulders and who would cross the seas to carry the weight of our people in their entirety without hesitation. You are good, my love, and I will see you through to your very best by your side. What responsibility could possibly tear me from you? None. We shall go across the sea together and we shall do our very best, together. Never go far from me and you shall never come to harm. I will love you with my everything and no great sea, no great unknown could keep me from you.”

“You speak in definites as if you know what is to come.”

“I need not know what is to come to know you, and to know myself.”

Findekano raised onto his toes to snatch Maitimo’s lips with his own, without the assist of his hands. His kiss spoke its own oath, of love and devotion. With foreheads pressed together they sang in gentle breathes the marriage vows, in the presence of the trees. They laughed as they untangled themselves from their handfast and retangled themselves with one another for a short while. There would be no worry here, hidden away from the oncoming storm, in the eye of the calm.

Their burdens could wait a few short hours, for what was the point of worrying when one was loved?

#mystuff #my stuff #miri writes #the silmarillion #russingon #maedhros #fingon #god this is so sappy #also not my best work but hey it's alright #tolkien #\

[swilmarillion]

I really enjoyed reading the post you wrote about Melkor's life after he left home yesterday! I had a question(s) if you don't mind? How did Manwe take everything that happened? Did he/does he ever talk to his brother (were they at Valinor U at the same time?) other than when they're forced together like at Melkor's trial and probation?

Ahh dude, of course I don’t mind!  Ask away :)

So, on the surface, Melkor and Manwë have never had a great relationship.  They’re close in age (Melkor is about 18 months younger) and they fought pretty much constantly as kids.  Melkor was a very headstrong kid (shocking, I know); he always had his own way of doing things that got on his dad’s nerves (and his nanny’s) and got him in trouble. Manwë always felt protective of Melkor and would try to defend him, especially when Eru criticized Melkor, which Melkor didn’t appreciate at all.  He could never see that Manwë was trying to help him, or thatManwë wanted to be on Melkor’s side.  All he saw was thatManwë seemed to be incapable of doing wrong, that he always got the best of Eru’s time and attention, that he was always used as the gold standard to which Melkor should be held.

Needless to say, Melkor harbored a lot of resentment about that.  He’s a contrarian by nature, but part of why he really strove to be so vehemently different from his family is that he didn’t want to be compared toManwë.  He didn’t want comparison to even be an option.  He always felt overshadowed byManwë, and he desperately wanted to get away from that pressure and have the chance to just be himself.

He was pretty hostile toManwë, especially as they got older.  They went to the same boarding school for middle/high school, but Melkor avoidedManwë as much as possible.  They talked sporadically in school and after Melkor dropped out, mostly becauseManwë worried about him and wanted to try to help him, if he could.  Melkor resented it and tried to avoid any and all contact withManwë, who he felt was patronizing him.  

The trend continued throughout their time at Valarin because yes, they were there at the same time.  The college campus was bigger, which made it much easier for Melkor to avoid running intoManwë.  Unfortunately for Melkor, it’s hard to avoid your brother when he’s deliberately trying to see you.  See,Manwë really tried to reforge a relationship with Melkor when they were in college.  He thought that maybe, if they were away from home and from their dad, that there could be a little less hostility and a little more understanding between them.  He really tried to understand Melkor’s life and his motivations and to engage with Melkor about them. Manwë isn’t a bad guy, and honestly, he really does care about Melkor.  Even if he doesn’t understand the things that Melkor does,Manwë honestly wants the best for him and tries to help Melkor if and when he can.

Melkor has never been able to see that.  I think I’ve talked a little elsewhere about how Melkor harbors a lot of resentment towardManwë.  Growing up, it seemed likeManwë was the golden child.  Everything he did was right.  Everything he did was good.  He was everything Melkor was supposed to be, and everything Melkor wasn’t.  Melkor hated him for it, whether or not that was fair.

They don’t talk often.  There are no family holidays, no Christmas cards, no once-a-year phone calls to check in and see that your brother is doing okay.  Manwë has tried in the past to engage him, but Melkor just isn’t interested in being friends.  Occasionally they’ll happen to run into each other somewhere, and Melkor will usually endure two minutes of small talk before noping out of those awkward encounters.  There have been only one or two occasions when Melkor has voluntarily sought outManwë, each time because he neededManwë to do something for him.  Luckily for Melkor,Manwë has always been willing to help.

#swil answers #fyd asks #seriously I'm always happy to answer questions like this! #ask away :) #man i have some Feelings about their relationship let me tell you #bluestaratsunrise

[blankdblank]

That's my Throne!!

Fluff, Nervous Thranduil, Mild Smut

...

Mairon the Admirable. Since the beginning of things he was focused on order and perfection, though as always in the end for love he gained far from it. Bluebell, the Hobbit Mother, a creation of Yavanna’s granted the strength of a Maiar in Eru’s affection for the pure being set to bring to life a race of creatures focused solely on defending all good, green and homely. For all her traits and carefree motions through Yavanna’s gardens she easily spotted the one she believed to be her One in Aule’s workshop already sending her an adoring glance hoping she would finally look up.

In Vanlinor time mattered little but far sooner than anticipated a Daughter was born. Mirroring her mother in all but the pitch black hair bearing her mother’s unrelenting curls. But as everyone knows Mairon soon met Melkor and darkness and mischief began at what could be achieved and ruled in the world outside Valinor. Seemingly ageless the innocent toddler was granted reprieve in the eyes of Manwe. Ties with Bluebell and their child were severed when confronted with a choice, should he continue his path to spare his child he would agree never to see or claim her again leaving her as child to Mairon the Admirable, a title he was no longer allowed to claim. Soon he left those heavenly shores forcing himself to never look back as Bluebell’s love for her first child brought about more in her absence. See, there was another catch, neither parent could raise her.

From the Elves in Valinor Yavanna herself carried the child to her new Father. Out of the many possible she chose young Celeborn with another daughter of his own nearly fully grown. Time rolled on and yet you never aged, at least not until Celeborn had settled from Lindon into Lothlorien. All eyes turned to the brightly growing child in their midst at the first sign of growth. Through to the end of the first age you lived there, uncertain of where you fit in exactly sending you to the Hobbiton nearby their borders. You had learned all you could about Elven culture and hoped to learn more about your assumed Hobbit side.

Sure you had small feet and were just barely over five feet tall but still in appetite and stubbornness alone you clearly fit the description while your love for crafting seemingly from nowhere and ability to greatly control all plant life around you added to your Elven appeal drawing a great number of requested visits for you to from your Smial Celeborn frequently visited even with the struggle of his tall stature.

.

From the minute you entered BagEnd there was something about you that drew Thorin to you right away as a kindred soul. And the nearer you drew to Rivendell he saw his suspicion about who you were was true. Camp was set and a hiss was heard in your move through the trees around you making your head turn as you palmed a golden ring you found filling the canteens at Gloin’s side. In your turn back to the camp you were tackled by a nearly naked screeching shriveled creature. Over your body a wash of blood passed through the water from the now dead body Gloin kicked onto the shore after scooping you up out of the water. Coughing up water you were circled by the Dwarves all checking on you before assigning a search group to scout the area. Leading to the discovery of a trio of trolls that were easily ambushed with their hoard tucked away in a Hobbit formed trunk able to carry twenty times normal capacity of a trunk its size easily holding it all.

Curiously you eyed the ring in your palm and eased it on your finger only to watch it vanish from sight as Dwalin met your side. Still it sat unseen but was felt pulsing lightly as your mind snapped out of your reoccurring dream of a man you knew as your father wreathed in light with a mother far smaller and far brighter in a world long since visited by you. With a grin you joined the men on returning to camp to rest for the night before heading to Rivendell in the morning.

…

Slipping out of the Elven kingdom at the first sight of the woman refusing to claim you as her child since first laying eyes on you now darkening as her eyes turned to you. A ring was torn from her finger by its own will after her darkening gaze deepened in her approach to you at her arrival. Without a word however you muttered a single word in ancient Valinorian, “Diminish,” and her eyes snapped open shifting to a lifeless gaze on her body’s walk to the gates of Rivendell on her path to the Grey Havens. Before any Elf Lord could find and console you the Company had followed your lead packing and hurrying out of their borders leaving only word of a dispute of some sort between you sending the White Lady to sail as you all but vanished into the wilds again.

South along the Misty Mountains you traveled to the pass of Khazhad Dum. The clear path you had hoped to find was filled with orcs and goblins battling the beast in the lake they had stirred. A single utterance from you as the Balrog came to face it sent out a pulse from you cascading off the angled doors left open to sweep through the massive keep fading all the dark creatures as nothing but piles of armor and weapons left behind when their bodies were destroyed. Disbelieving chuckles came from the company as they scurried inside collecting all keys along the way, the doors along the way were sealed with not just the traditional locks but with Elvish runes you marked around the edges keeping all dark creatures from reentering again.

That pulse had done more than you could see, around you dust fell and as ancient runes lit up awakening the mountain keep to seal and light itself again. Places to rest were secured along the way until you reached the edges of Lothlorien. Still unable to sleep for lack of exertion you sat awake peering out over an overlook at the vast hall of pillars lost in thought until Thorin settled heavily at your side. An easy smile formed on his lips as he asked, “Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head, “No. I keep having this dream.”

Gently his hand folded around yours making your eyes drop to your lap seeking the source of warmth now coating them. In a turn of your head you locked your eyes with his seeing his deepening smile in his shifting a bit closer to your side. Lowly he spoke before you could say anything. “I wished to share something with you.” You nodded, “My people, we have a tale of our Father Mahal. In the beginning before the world began to darken one of his pupils among the Maiar fell in love with the Mother of Hobbits. They had a child, however as Mairon-,”

“You know this tale?”

He nodded seeing the tears and doubts filling your eyes, in a comforting rumble he continued, “We have guessed you are this child. And should it be true you are not your father just as I am not my grandfather. You have earned your place among us and no doubt you have earned our respect and trust. There has been no sign of any dark corners in your being, after all our Father ensured your protection by severing your ties with Mairon before you could be corrupted as well.” His hand rose to wipe your cheek, “We have all agreed to keep this fact between us, you will be marked as Maiar and treated as an adopted daughter of Lord Celeborn among my people. You have my word.”

With a hint of a smile you leaned over resting your head on his shoulder earning a chuckle from him, softly as you looked over the great hall again, “I get flashes of him, your Mahal,” his head turned to peer at you in shock, “I remember his hopes he had for your people and what you would achieve.” He wet his lips anxiously uncertain of what you were trying to say, “I used to wonder what you could do and now that I see it I don’t think he would be disappointed. Such a grand place, even in the dark.”

A grin grew on his face at your compliment for his kin, “Just wait until we scrub it up.”

.

Around the borders of those lands you led the men catching sight of a few passing guards in crossing the river towards Northern Greenwood. On your path the guards raced off to alert Lord Celeborn of your passing and path ahead. All as your eyes lingered on the Southern kingdom and the shadow rising there shooting off into the distance at your arrival sending deathly cries of the dark creatures dwelling there in their final moments of life as the source of their power and protection fled sending off a powerful pulse to destroy all left behind.

Pt 2 on ao3

#Thranduil #Fluff #Nervous #Mirkwood #Thranduil x Reader #lotr #hobbit #Thranduil x Reader OC

[readbookywooks]

At first his own people did not know Gwindor, who went out young and strong, and returned now seeming as one of the aged among mortal Men, because of his torments and his labours; and now also he was maimed. But Finduilas daughter of Orodreth the King knew him and welcomed him, for she had loved him, and indeed they were betrothed, before the Nirnaeth, and so greatly did Gwindor love her beauty that he named her Faelivrin, which is the sheen of the sun upon the pools of Ivrin. Thus Gwindor came home, and for his sake Turin was admitted with him; for Gwindor said that he was a valiant man, dear friend of Beleg Cuthalion of Doriath. But when Gwindor would tell his name Turin checked him, saying: 'I am Agarwaen, the son of umarth (which is the Bloodstained, son of Ill-fate), a hunter in the woods.' But though the Elves guessed that he took these names because of the slaying of his friend (not knowing other reasons), they questioned him no more. The sword Anglachel was forged anew for him by the cunning smiths of Nargothrond, and though ever black its edges shone with pale fire. Then Turin himself became known in Nargothrond as Mormegil, the Black Sword, for the rumour of his deeds with that weapon; but he named the sword Gurthang, Iron of Death. Because of his prowess and his skill in warfare with Orcs Turin found favour with Orodreth, and was admitted to his council. Now Turin had no liking for the manner of fighting of the Elves of Nargothrond, of ambush and stealth and secret arrow, and he urged that it be abandoned, and that they should use their strength to attack the servants of the Enemy, to open battle and pursuit. But Gwindor spoke ever against Turin in this matter in the council of the King, saying that he had been in Angband and had had a glimpse of the power of Morgoth, and had some inkling of his designs. 'Petty victories will prove profitless at the last,' he said; 'for thus Morgoth learns where the boldest of his enemies are to be found, and gathers strength great enough to destroy them. All the might of the Elves and Edain united sufficed only to contain him, and to gain the peace of a siege; long indeed, but only so long as Morgoth bided his time before he broke the leaguer; and never again can such a union be made. Only in secrecy lies hope of survival. Until the Valar come.' 'The Valar!' said Turin. 'They have forsaken you, and they hold Men in scorn. What use to look westward across the endless Sea to a dying sunset in the West? There is but one Vala with whom we have to do, and that is Morgoth; and if in the end we cannot overcome him, at least we can hurt him and hinder him. For victory is victory, however small, nor is its worth only from what follows from it. But it is expedient also. Secrecy is not finally possible: arms are the only wall against Morgoth. If you do nothing to halt him, all Beleriand will fall under his shadow before many years are passed, and then one by one he will smoke you out of your earths. And what then? A pitiable remnant will fly south and west, to cower on the shores of the Sea, caught between Morgoth and Osse. Better then to win a time of glory, though it be shortlived; for the end will be no worse. You speak of secrecy, and say that therein lies the only hope; but could you ambush and waylay every scout and spy of Morgoth to the last and least, so that none came ever back with tidings to Angband, yet from that he would learn that you lived and guess where. And this also I say: though mortal Men have little life beside the span of the Elves, they would rather spend it in battle than fly or submit. The defiance of Hurin Thalion is a great deed; and though Morgoth slay the doer he cannot make the deed not to have been. Even the Lords of the West will honour it; and is it not written into the history of Arda, which neither Morgoth nor Manwe can unwrite?' 'You speak of high things,' Gwindor answered, 'and plain it is that you have lived among the Eldar. But a darkness is on you if you set Morgoth and Manwe together, or speak of the Valar as the foes of Elves and Men; for the Valar scorn nothing, and least of all the Children of Iluvatar. Nor do you know all the hopes of the Eldar. It is a prophecy among us that one day a messenger from Middle-earth will come through the shadows to Valinor, and Manwe will hear, and Mandos relent. For that time shall we not attempt to preserve the seed of the Noldor, and of the Edain also? And Cirdan dwells now in the South, and there is building of ships; but what know you of ships, or of the Sea? You think of yourself and of your own glory, and bid us each do likewise; but we must think of others beside ourselves, for not all can fight and fall, and those we must keep from war and ruin, while we can.' 'Then send them to your ships, while there is yet time,' said Turin. 'They will not be parted from us,' said Gwindor, 'even could Cirdan sustain them. We must abide together as long as we may, and not court death.' 'All this I have answered,' said Turin. 'Valiant defence of the borders and hard blows ere the enemy gathers; in that course lies the best hope of your long abiding together. And do those that you speak of love such skulkers in the woods, hunting strays like a wolf, better than one who puts on his helm and figured shield, and drives away the foe, be they far greater than all his host? At least the women of the Edain do not. They did not hold back the men from the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.' 'But they suffered greater woe than if that field had not been fought,' said Gwindor. But Turin advanced greatly in the favour of Orodreth, and he became the chief counsellor of the King, who submitted all things to his advice. In that time the Elves of Nargothrond forsook their secrecy, and great store of weapons were made; and by the counsel of Turin the Noldor built a mighty bridge over the Narog from the Doors of Felagund for the swifter passage of their arms, since war was now chiefly east of Narog in the Guarded Plain. As its north-march Nargothrond now held the 'Debatable Land' about the sources of Ginglith, Narog, and the fringes of the Woods of Nuath. Between Nenning and Narog no Orc came; and east of Narog their realm went to the Teiglin and the borders of the Moors of the Nibin-noeg. Gwindor fell into dishonour, for he was no longer forward in arms, and his strength was small; and the pain of his maimed left arm was often upon him. But Turin was young, and only now reached his full manhood; and he was in truth the son of Morwen Eledhwen to look upon: tall, dark-haired and pale-skinned, with grey eyes, and his face more beautiful than any other among mortal men, in the Elder Days. His speech and bearing were those of the ancient kingdom of Doriath, and even among the Elves he might be taken at first meeting for one from the great houses of the Noldor. So valiant was Turin, and so exceedingly skilled in arms, especially with sword and shield, that the Elves said that he could not be slain, save by mischance, or an evil arrow from afar. Therefore they gave him dwarf-mail, to guard him; and in a grim mood he found in the armouries a dwarf-mask all gilded, and he put it on before battle, and his enemies fled before his face. Now that he had his way, and all went well, and he had work to do after his heart, and had honour in it, he was courteous to all, and less grim than of old, so that well nigh all hearts were turned to him; and many called him Adanedhel, the Elf-man. But most of all Finduilas the daughter of Orodreth found her heart moved whenever he came near, or was in hall. She was golden-haired after the manner of the house of Finarfin, and Turin began to take pleasure in the sight of her and in her company; for she reminded him of his kindred and the women of Dor-lomin in his father's house. At first he met her only when Gwindor was by; but after a while she sought him out, so that they met at times alone, though it seemed to be by chance. Then she would question him about the Edain, of whom she had seen few and seldom, and about his country and his kin. Then Turin spoke freely to her concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.' 'But you are kingly,' said she, 'even as the lords of the people of Fingolfin; I would I had a brother so valiant. And I do not think that Agarwaen is your name, nor is it fit for you, Adanedhel. I call you Thurin, the Secret.' At this Turin started, but he said: 'That is not my name; and I am not a king, for our kings are of the Eldar, as I am not.' Now Turin marked that Gwindor's friendship grew cooler towards him; and he wondered also that whereas at first the woe and horror of Angband had begun to be lifted from him, now he seemed to slip back into care and sorrow. And he thought, it may be that he is grieved that I oppose his counsels, and have overcome him; I would it were not so. For he loved Gwindor as his guide and healer, and was filled with pity for him. But in those days the radiance of Finduilas also became dimmed, her footsteps slow and her face grave, and she grew wan and thin; and Turin perceiving this surmised that the words of Gwindor had set fear in her heart of what might come to pass. In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past. Then Turin spoke to Finduilas, and said: 'Do not let the words of Gwindor affright you. He has suffered in the darkness of Angband; and it is hard for one so valiant to be thus crippled and backward perforce. He needs all solace, and a longer time for healing.' 'I know it well,' she said. 'But we will win that time for him!' said Turin. 'Nargothrond shall stand! Never again will Morgoth the Craven come forth from Angband, and all his reliance must be on his servants; thus says Melian of Doriath. They are the fingers of his hands; and we will smite them, and cut them off, till he draws back his claws. Nargothrond shall stand!' 'Perhaps,' said she. 'It shall stand, if you can achieve it. But have a care, Thurin; my heart is heavy when you go out to battle, lest Nargothrond be bereaved.' Afterwards Turin sought out Gwindor, and said to him: 'Gwindor, dear friend, you are falling back into sadness; do not so! For your healing will come in the houses of your kin, and in the light of Finduilas.' Then Gwindor stared at Turin, but he said nothing, and his face was clouded. 'Why do you look upon me so?' said Turin. 'Often your eyes have gazed at me strangely of late. How have I grieved you? I have opposed your counsels; but a man must speak as he sees, nor hide the truth that he believes, for any private cause. I would that we were one in mind; for to you I owe a great debt, and I shall not forget it.' 'Will you not?' said Gwindor. 'Nonetheless your deeds and your counsels have changed my home and my kin. Your shadow lies upon them. Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?' Turin did not understand these words, and did but guess that Gwindor begrudged him his place in the heart and counsels of the King. But Gwindor, when Turin had gone, sat alone in dark thought, and he cursed Morgoth who could thus pursue his enemies with woe, whithersoever they might run. 'And now at last,' he said, 'I believe the rumour of Angband that Morgoth has cursed Hurin and all his kin.' And going to find Finduilas he said to her: 'A sadness and doubt is upon you; and too often now I miss you, and begin to guess that you are avoiding me. Since you tell me not the cause, I must guess. Daughter of the house of Finarfin, let no grief lie between us; for though Morgoth has laid my life in ruin, you still I love. But go whither love leads you; for I am become unfit to wed you; and neither my prowess nor my counsel have any honour more.' Then Finduilas wept. 'Weep not yet!' said Gwindor. 'But beware lest you have cause. Not fitting is it that the Elder Children of Iluvatar should wed the Younger; nor is it wise, for they are brief, and soon pass, to leave us in widowhood while the world lasts. Neither will fate suffer it, unless it be once or twice only, for some high cause of doom that we do not perceive. 'But this man is not Beren, even if he be both as fair and as brave. A doom lies on him; a dark doom. Enter not into it! And if you will, your love shall betray you to bitterness and death. For hearken to me! Though he be indeed agarwaen son of umarth, his right name is Turin son of Hurin, whom Morgoth holds in Angband, and has cursed all his kin. Doubt not the power of Morgoth Bauglir! Is it not written in me?' Then Finduilas rose, and queenly indeed she looked. 'Your eyes are dimmed, Gwindor,' she said. 'You do not see or understand what has here come to pass. Must I now be put to double shame to reveal the truth to you? For I love you, Gwindor, and I am ashamed that I love you not more, but have taken a love even greater, from which I cannot escape. I did not seek it, and long I put it aside. But if I have pity for your hurts, have pity on mine. Turin loves me not, nor will.' 'You say this,' said Gwindor, 'to take the blame from him whom you love. Why does he seek you out, and sit long with you, and come ever more glad away?' 'Because he also needs solace,' said Finduilas, 'and is bereaved of his kin. You both have your needs. But what of Finduilas? Now is it not enough that I must confess myself to you unloved, but that you should say that I speak so to deceive?' 'Nay, a woman is not easily deceived in such a case,' said Gwindor. 'Nor will you find many who will deny that they are loved, if that is true.' 'If any of us three be faithless, it is I: but not in will. But what of your doom and rumours of Angband? What of death and destruction? The Adanedhel is mighty in the tale of the World, and his stature shall reach yet to Morgoth in some far day to come.' 'He is proud,' said Gwindor. 'But also he is merciful,' said Finduilas. 'He is not yet awake, but still pity can ever pierce his heart, and he will never deny it. Pity maybe shall be ever the only entry. But he does not pity me. He holds me in awe, as were I both his mother and a queen.' Maybe Finduilas spoke truly, seeing with the keen eyes of the Eldar. And now Turin, not knowing what had passed between Gwindor and Finduilas, was ever gentler towards her as she seemed more sad. But on a time Finduilas said to him: 'Thurin Adanedhel, why did you hide your name from me? Had I known who you were I should not have honoured you less, but I should better have understood your grief.' 'What do you mean?' he said. 'Whom do you make me?' 'Turin son of Hurin Thalion, captain of the North.' Now when Turin learned from Finduilas of what had passed, he was wrathful, and he said to Gwindor: 'In love I hold you for rescue and safe-keeping. But now you have done ill to me, friend, to betray my right name, and call down my doom upon me, from which I would lie hid.' But Gwindor answered: 'The doom lies in yourself, not in your name.' In that time of respite and hope, when because of the deeds of the Mormegil the power of Morgoth was stemmed west of Sirion, and all the woods had peace, Morwen fled at last from Dor-lomin with Nienor her daughter, and adventured the long journey to Thingol's halls. There new grief awaited her, for she found Turin gone, and to Doriath there had come no tidings since the Dragon-helm had vanished from the lands west of Sirion; but Morwen remained in Doriath with Nienor as guests of Thingol and Melian, and were treated with honour. CHAPTER XI THE FALL OF NARGOTHROND When five years had passed since Turin came to Nargothrond, in the spring of the year, there came two Elves, and they named themselves Gelmir and Arminas, of the people of Finarfin; and they said that they had an errand to the Lord of Nargothrond. Turin now commanded all the forces of Nargothrond, and ruled all matters of war; indeed he was become stern and proud, and would order all things as he wished or thought good. They were brought therefore before Turin; but Gelmir said: 'It is to Orodreth, Finarfin's son, that we would speak.' And when Orodreth came, Gelmir said to him: 'Lord, we were of Angrod's people, and we have wandered far since the Nirnaeth; but of late we have dwelt among Cirdan's following by the Mouths of Sirion. And on a day he called us, and bade us go to you; for Ulmo himself, the Lord of Waters, had appeared to him and warned him of great peril that draws near to Nargothrond.' But Orodreth was wary, and he answered: 'Why then do you come hither out of the North? Or perhaps you had other errands also?' Then Arminas said: 'Yes, lord. Ever since the Nirnaeth I have sought for the hidden kingdom of Turgon, and I have found it not; and in this search I fear now that I have delayed our errand hither over long. For Cirdan sent us along the coast by ship, for secrecy and speed, and we were put ashore in Drengist. But among the sea-folk were some that came south in past years as messengers from Turgon, and it seemed to me from their guarded speech that maybe Turgon dwells still in the North, and not in the South as most believe. But we have found neither sign nor rumour of what we sought.' 'Why do you seek Turgon?' said Orodreth. 'Because it is said that his kingdom shall stand longest against Morgoth,' answered Arminas. And these words seemed to Orodreth ill-omened, and he was displeased. 'Then tarry not in Nargothrond,' said he; 'for here you will hear no news of Turgon. And I need none to teach me that Nargothrond stands in peril.' 'Be not angered, lord,' said Gelmir, 'if we answer your questions with truth. And our wandering from the straight path hither has not been fruitless, for we have passed beyond the reach of your furthest scouts; we have traversed Dor-lomin and all the lands under the eaves of Ered Wethrin, and we have explored the Pass of Sirion spying out the ways of the Enemy. There is a great gathering of Orcs and evil creatures in those regions, and a host is mustering about Sauron's Isle.' 'I know it,' said Turin. 'Your news is stale. If the message of Cirdan was to any purpose, it should have come sooner.' 'At least, lord, you shall hear the message now,' said Gelmir to Orodreth. 'Hear then the words of the Lord of Waters! Thus he spoke to Cirdan: "The Evil of the North has defiled the springs of Sirion, and my power withdraws from the fingers of the flowing waters. But a worse thing is yet to come forth. Say therefore to the Lord of Nargothrond: Shut the doors of the fortress, and go not abroad. Cast the stones of your pride into the loud river, that the creeping evil may not find the gate."' These words seemed dark to Orodreth, and he turned as ever to Turin for counsel. But Turin mistrusted the messengers, and he said in scorn: 'What does Cirdan know of our wars, who dwell nigh to the Enemy? Let the mariner look to his ships! But if in truth the Lord of Waters would send us counsel, let him speak more plainly. Otherwise to one trained in war it will still seem better in our case to muster our strength, and go boldly to meet our foes, ere they come too nigh.' Then Gelmir bowed before Orodreth, and said: 'I have spoken as I was bidden, lord'; and he turned away. But Arminas said to Turin: 'Are you indeed of the House of Hador, as I have heard said?' 'Here I am named Agarwaen, the Black Sword of Nargothrond,' answered Turin. 'You deal much, it seems, in guarded speech, friend Arminas. It is well that Turgon's secret is hid from you, or soon it would be heard in Angband. A man's name is his own, and should the son of Hurin learn that you have betrayed him when he would be hid, then may Morgoth take you and burn out your tongue!' Arminas was dismayed by the black wrath of Turin; but Gelmir said: 'He shall not be betrayed by us, Agarwaen. Are we not in council behind closed doors, where speech may be plainer? And Arminas, I deem, questioned you, since it is known to all that dwell by the Sea that Ulmo has great love for the House of Hador, and some say that Hurin and Huor his brother came once into the Hidden Realm.' 'If that were so, then he would speak of it to none, neither the great nor the less, and least of all to his son in childhood,' answered Turin. 'Therefore I do not believe that Arminas asked this of me in order to learn aught of Turgon. I mistrust such messengers of mischief.' 'Save your mistrust!' said Arminas in anger. 'Gelmir mistakes me. I asked because I doubted what here seems believed; for little indeed do you resemble the kin of Hador, whatever your name.' 'And what do you know of them?' said Turin. 'Hurin I have seen,' answered Arminas, 'and his fathers before him. And in the wastes of Dor-lomin I met with Tuor, son of Huor, Hurin's brother; and he is like his fathers, as you are not.' 'That may be,' said Turin, 'though of Tuor I have heard no word ere now. But if my head be dark and not golden, of that I am not ashamed. For I am not the first of sons in the likeness of his mother; and I come through Morwen Eledhwen of the House of Beor and the kindred of Beren Camlost.' 'I spoke not of the difference between the black and the gold,' said Arminas. 'But others of the House of Hador bear themselves otherwise, and Tuor among them. For they use courtesy, and they listen to good counsel, holding the Lords of the West in awe. But you, it seems, will take counsel with your own wisdom, or with your sword only; and you speak haughtily. And I say to you, Agarwaen Mormegil, that if you do so, other shall be your doom than one of the Houses of Hador and Beor might look for.' 'Other it has ever been,' answered Turin. 'And if, as it seems, I must bear the hate of Morgoth because of the valour of my father, shall I also endure the taunts and ill-boding of a runagate from war, though he claim the kinship of kings? Get you back to the safe shores of the Sea!' Then Gelmir and Arminas departed, and went back to the South; but despite Turin's taunts they would gladly have awaited battle beside their kin, and they went only because Cirdan had bidden them under the command of Ulmo to bring back word to him of Nargothrond and of the speeding of their errand there. And Orodreth was much troubled by the words of the messengers; but all the more fell became the mood of Turin, and he would by no means listen to their counsels, and least of all would he suffer the great bridge to be cast down. For so much at least of the words of Ulmo were read aright. Soon after the departure of the messengers Handir Lord of Brethil was slain; for the Orcs invaded his land, seeking to secure the Crossings of Teiglin for their further advance. Handir gave them battle, but the Men of Brethil were worsted and driven back into their woods. The Orcs did not pursue them, for they had achieved their purpose for that time; and they continued to muster their strength in the Pass of Sirion. In the autumn of the year, biding his hour, Morgoth loosed upon the people of Narog the great host that he had long prepared; and Glaurung the Father of Dragons passed over Anfauglith, and came thence into the north vales of Sirion and there did great evil. Under the shadows of Ered Wethrin, leading a great army of Orcs in his train, he defiled the Eithel Ivrin, and thence he passed into the realm of Nargothrond, burning the Talath Dirnen, the Guarded Plain, between Narog and Teiglin. Then the warriors of Nargothrond went forth, and tall and terrible on that day looked Turin, and the heart of the host was uplifted as he rode on the right hand of Orodreth. But greater far was the host of Morgoth than any scouts had told, and none but Turin defended by his dwarf-mask could withstand the approach of Glaurung. The Elves were driven back and defeated on the field of Tumhalad; and there all the pride and host of Nargothrond withered away. Orodreth the King was slain in the forefront of the battle, and Gwindor son of Guilin was wounded to the death. But Turin came to his aid, and all fled before him; and he bore Gwindor out of the rout, and escaping to a wood there laid him on the grass. Then Gwindor said to Turin: 'Let bearing pay for bearing! But ill-fated was mine, and vain is yours; for my body is marred beyond healing, and I must leave Middle-earth. And though I love you, son of Hurin, yet I rue the day that I took you from the Orcs. But for your prowess and your pride, still I should have love and life, and Nargothrond should yet stand a while. Now if you love me, leave me! Haste you to Nargothrond, and save Finduilas. And this last I say to you: she alone stands between you and your doom. If you fail her, it shall not fail to find you. Farewell!' Then Turin sped back to Nargothrond, mustering such of the rout as he met with on the way; and the leaves fell from the trees in a great wind as they went, for the autumn was passing to a dire winter. But Glaurung and his host of Orcs were there before him, because of his rescue of Gwindor, and they came suddenly, ere those that were left on guard were aware of what had befallen on the field of Tumhalad. In that day the bridge that Turin had caused to be built over Narog proved an evil; for it was great and mightily made and could not swiftly be destroyed, and thus the enemy came readily over the deep river, and Glaurung came in full fire against the Doors of Felagund, and overthrew them, and passed within. And even as Turin came up the ghastly sack of Nargothrond was well-nigh achieved. The Orcs had slain or driven off all that remained in arms, and they were even then ransacking the great halls and chambers, plundering and destroying; but those of the women and maidens that were not burned or slain they had herded on the terrace before the doors, as slaves to be taken to Angband. Upon this ruin and woe Turin came, and none could withstand him; or would not, though he struck down all before him, and passed over the bridge, and hewed his way towards the captives. And now he stood alone, for the few that had followed him had fled into hiding. But in that moment Glaurung the fell issued from the gaping Doors of Felagund, and lay behind, between Turin and the bridge. Then suddenly he spoke by the evil spirit that was in him, saying: 'Hail, son of Hurin. Well met!' Then Turin sprang about, and strode against him, and fire was in his eyes, and the edges of Gurthang shone as with flame. But Glaurung withheld his blast, and opened wide his serpent-eyes and gazed upon Turin. Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone. Thus long they stood unmoving, silent before the great Doors of Felagund. Then Glaurung spoke again, taunting Turin. 'Evil have been all your ways, son of Hurin,' said he. 'Thankless fosterling, outlaw, slayer of your friend, thief of love, usurper of Nargothrond, captain foolhardy, and deserter of your kin. As thralls your mother and your sister live in Dor-lomin, in misery and want. You are arrayed as a prince, but they go in rags. For you they yearn, but you care not for that. Glad may your father be to learn that he has such a son: as learn he shall.' And Turin being under the spell of Glaurung hearkened to his words, and he saw himself as in a mirror misshapen by malice, and he loathed what he saw. And while he was yet held by the eyes of Glaurung in torment of mind, and could not stir, at a sign from the Dragon the Orcs drove away the herded captives, and they passed nigh to Turin and went over the bridge. And among them was Finduilas, and she held out her arms to Turin, and called him by name. But not until her cries and the wailing of the captives was lost upon the northward road did Glaurung release Turin, and he might not stop his ears against that voice that haunted him after. Then suddenly Glaurung withdrew his glance, and waited; and Turin stirred slowly as one waking from a hideous dream. Then coming to himself with a loud cry he sprang upon the Dragon. But Glaurung laughed, saying: 'If you wish to be slain, I will slay you gladly. But small help will that be to Morwen and Nienor. No heed did you give to the cries of the Elf-woman. Will you deny also the bond of your blood?' But Turin drawing back his sword stabbed at his eyes; and Glaurung coiling back swiftly towered above him, and said: 'Nay! At least you are valiant. Beyond all whom I have met. And they lie who say that we of our part do not honour the valour of foes. See now! I offer you freedom. Go to your kin, if you can. Get you gone! And if Elf or Man be left to make tale of these days, then surely in scorn they will name you, if you spurn this gift.' Then Turin, being yet bemused by the eyes of the dragon, as if he were treating with a foe that could know pity, believed the words of Glaurung, and turning away he sped over the bridge. But as he went, Glaurung spoke behind him, saying in a fell voice: 'Haste you now, son of Hurin, to Dor-lomin! Or perhaps the Orcs shall come before you, once again. And if you tarry for Finduilas, then never shall you see Morwen or Nienor again; and they will curse you.' But Turin passed away on the northward road, and Glaurung laughed once more, for he had accomplished the errand of his Master. Then he turned to his own pleasure, and sent forth his blast, and burned all about him. But all the Orcs that were busy in the sack he routed forth, and drove them away, and denied them their plunder even to the last thing of worth. The bridge then he broke down and cast into the foam of Narog; and being thus secure he gathered all the hoard and riches of Felagund and heaped them, and lay upon them in the innermost hall, and rested a while. And Turin hastened along the ways to the North, through the lands now desolate between Narog and Teiglin, and the Fell Winter came down to meet him; for that year snow fell ere autumn was passed, and spring came late and cold. Ever it seemed to him as he went that he heard the cries of Finduilas, calling his name by wood and hill, and great was his anguish; but his heart being hot with the lies of Glaurung, and seeing ever in his mind the Orcs burning the house of Hurin or putting Morwen and Nienor to torment, he held on his way, turning never aside. CHAPTER XII THE RETURN OF TuRIN TO DOR-LoMIN At last worn by haste and the long road (for forty leagues and more had he journeyed without rest) he came with the first ice of winter to the pools of Ivrin, where before he had been healed. But they were now only a frozen mire, and he could drink there no more. Thence he came to the passes into Dor-lomin, and snow came bitterly from the North, and the ways were perilous and cold. Though three and twenty years were gone since he had trodden that path, it was graven in his heart, so great was the sorrow of each step at the parting from Morwen. Thus at last he came back to the land of his childhood. It was bleak and bare; and the people there were few and churlish, and they spoke the harsh tongue of the Easterlings, and the old tongue was become the language of serfs, or of foes. Therefore Turin walked warily, hooded and silent, and he came at last to the house that he sought. It stood empty and dark, and no living thing dwelt near it; for Morwen was gone, and Brodda the Incomer (he that took by force Aerin, Hurin's kinswoman, to wife) had plundered her house, and taken all that was left to her of goods or of servants. Brodda's house stood nearest to the old house of Hurin, and thither Turin came, spent with wandering and grief, begging for shelter; and it was granted to him, for some of the kindlier manners of old were still kept there by Aerin. He was given a seat by the fire by the servants, and a few vagabonds as grim and wayworn as he; and he asked news of the land. At that the company fell silent, and some drew away, looking askance at the stranger. But one old vagabond man, with a crutch, said: 'If you must speak the old tongue, master, speak it softer, and ask for no tidings. Would you be beaten for a rogue, or hung for a spy? For both you may well be by the looks of you. Which is but to say,' he said, coming near and speaking low in Turin's ear, 'one of the kindly folk of old that came with Hador in the days of gold, before heads wore wolf-hair. Some here are of like sort, though now made beggars and slaves, and but for the Lady Aerin would get neither this fire nor this broth. Whence are you, and what news would you have?' 'There was a lady called Morwen,' answered Turin, 'and long ago I lived in her house. Thither after far wandering I came to seek welcome, but neither fire nor folk are there now.' 'Nor have been this long year and more,' answered the old man. 'But scant were both fire and folk in that house since the deadly war; for she was of the old people  -  as doubtless you know, the widow of our lord, Hurin Galdor's son. They dared not touch her, though, for they feared her; proud and fair as a queen, before sorrow marred her. Witchwife they called her, and shunned her. Witchwife: it is but "elf-friend" in the new language. Yet they robbed her. Often would she and her daughter have gone hungry, but for the Lady Aerin. She aided them in secret, it is said, and was often beaten for it by the churl Brodda, her husband by need.' 'And this long year and more?' said Turin. 'Are they dead, or made thralls? Or have the Orcs assailed her?' 'It is not known for sure,' said the old man. 'But she is gone with her daughter; and this Brodda has plundered her and stripped what remained. Not a dog is left, and her few folk made his slaves; save some that have gone begging, as have I. I served her many a year, and the great master before, Sador Onefoot: a cursed axe in the woods long ago, or I would be lying in the Great Mound now. Well I remember the day when Hurin's boy was sent away, and how he wept; and she, when he was gone. To the Hidden Kingdom he went, it was said.' With that the old man stayed his tongue, and eyed Turin doubtfully. 'I am old and I babble, master,' he said. 'Mind me not! But though it be pleasant to speak the old tongue with one that speaks it fair as in time past, the days are ill, and one must be wary. Not all that speak the fair tongue are fair at heart.' 'Truly,' said Turin. 'My heart is grim. But if you fear that I am a spy of the North or the East, then you have learned little more wisdom than you had long ago, Sador Labadal.' The old man eyed him agape; then trembling he spoke. 'Come outside! It is colder, but safer. You speak too loud, and I too much, for an Easterling's hall.' When they were come into the court he clutched at Turin's cloak. 'Long ago you dwelt in that house, you say. Lord Turin, why have you come back? My eyes are opened, and my ears at last: you have the voice of your father. But young Turin alone ever gave me that name, Labadal. He meant no ill: we were merry friends in those days. What does he seek here now? Few are we left; and we are old and weaponless. Happier are those in the Great Mound.' 'I did not come with thought of battle,' said Turin, 'though your words have waked the thought in me now, Labadal. But it must wait. I came seeking the Lady Morwen and Nienor. What can you tell me, and swiftly?' 'Little, lord,' said Sador. 'They went away secretly. It was whispered among us that they were summoned by the Lord Turin; for we did not doubt that he had grown great in the years, a king or a lord in some south country. But it seems this is not so.' 'It is not,' answered Turin. 'A lord I was in a south country, though now I am a vagabond. But I did not summon them.' 'Then I know not what to tell you,' said Sador. 'But the Lady Aerin will know, I doubt not. She knew all the counsel of your mother.' 'How can I come to her?' 'That I know not. It would cost her much pain were she caught whispering at a door with a wandering wretch of the downtrod people, even could any message call her forth. And such a beggarman as you are will not walk far up the hall towards the high board before the Easterlings seize him and beat him, or worse.' Then in anger Turin cried: 'May I not walk up Brodda's hall, and will they beat me? Come, and see!'

#ChildrenofHurin

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Of Feanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

Now the Three Kindreds of the Eldar were gathered at last in Valinor, and Melkor was chained. This was the Noontide of the Blessed Realm, the fullness of its glory and its bliss, long in tale of years, but in memory too brief. In those days the Eldar became full-grown in stature of body and of mind, and the Noldor advanced ever in skill and knowledge; and the long years were filled with their joyful labours, in which many new things fair and wonderful were devised. Then it was that the Noldor first bethought them of letters, and Rumil of Tirion was the name of the loremaster who first achieved fitting signs for the recording of speech and song, some for graving upon metal or in stone, others for drawing with brush or with pen. In that time was born in Eldamar, in the house of the King in Tirion upon the crown of Tuna, the eldest of the sons of Finwe, and the most beloved. Curufinwe was his name, but by his mother he was called Feanor, Spirit of Fire; and thus he is remembered in all the tales of the Noldor. Miriel was the name of his mother, who was called Serinde, because of her surpassing skill in weaving and needlework; for her hands were more skilled to fineness than any hands even among the Noldor. The love of Finwe and Miriel was great and glad, for it began in the Blessed Realm in the Days of Bliss. But in the bearing of her son Miriel was consumed in spirit and body; and after his birth she yearned for release from the labours of living. Ana when she had named mm, she said to Finwe: 'Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Feanor.' Then Finwe was grieved, for the Noldor were in me youth of their days, and he desired to bring forth many children into the Miss of Aman; and he said: 'Surely there is healing in Aman? Here all weariness can find rest.' But when Miriel languished still, Finwe sought the counsel of Manwe, and Manwe delivered her to the care of Irmo in Lorien. At their parting (for a little while as he thought) Finwe was sad, for it seemed an unhappy chance that the mother should depart and miss the beginning at least of the childhood days of her son. 'It is indeed unhappy,' said Miriel, 'and I would weep, if I were not so weary. But hold me blameless in this, and in all that may come after.' She went then to the gardens of Lorien and lay down to sleep; but though she seemed to sleep, her spirit indeed departed from her body, and passed in silence to the halls of Mandos. The maidens of Este tended the body of Miriel, and it remained unwithered; but she did not return. Then Finwe lived in sorrow; and he went often to the gardens of Lorien, and sitting beneath the silver willows beside the body of his wife he called her by her names. But it was unavailing; and alone in all the Blessed Realm he was deprived of joy. After a while he went to Lorien no more. An his love he gave thereafter to his son; and Feanor grew swiftly, as if a secret fire were kindled within him. He was tall, and fair of face, and masterful, his eyes piercingly bright and his hair raven-dark; in the pursuit of all his purposes eager and steadfast. Few ever changed his courses by counsel, none by force. He became of all the Noldor, then or after, the most subtle in mind and the most skilled in hand. In his youth, bettering the work of Rumil, he devised those letters which bear his name, and which the Eldar used ever after; and he it was who, first of the Noldor, discovered how gems greater and brighter than those of the earth might be made with skill. The first gems that Feanor made were white and colourless, but being set under starlight they would blaze with blue and silver fires brighter than Helluin; and other crystals he made also, wherein things far away could be seen small but clear, as with the eyes of the eagles of Manwe. Seldom were the hands and mind of Feanor at rest. While still in his early youth he wedded Nerdanel, the daughter of a great smith named Mahtan, among those of the Noldor most dear to Aule; and of Mahtan he learned much of the making of things in metal and in stone. Nerdanel also was firm of will, but more patient than Feanor, desiring to understand minds rather than to master them, and at first she restrained him when the fire of his heart grew too hot; but his later deeds grieved her, and they became estranged. Seven sons she bore to Feanor; her mood she bequeathed in part to some of them, but not to all. Now it came to pass that Finwe took as his second wife Indis the Fair. She was a Vanya, close kin of Ingwe the High King, golden-haired and tall, and in all ways unlike Miriel. Finwe loved her greatly, and was glad again. But the shadow of Miriel did not depart from the house of Finwe, nor from his heart; and of all whom he loved Feanor had ever the chief share of his thought. The wedding of his father was not pleasing to Feanor; and he had no great love for Indis, nor for Fingolfin and Finarfin, her sons. He lived apart from them, exploring the land of Aman, or busying himself with the knowledge and the crafts in which he delighted. In those unhappy things which later came to pass, and in which Feanor was the leader, many saw the effect of this breach within the house of Finwe, judging that if Finwe had endured his loss and been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Feanor would have been otherwise, and great evil might have been prevented; for the sorrow and the strife in the house of Finwe is graven in the memory of the Noldorin Elves. But the children of Indis were great and glorious, and their children also; and if they had not lived the history of the Eldar would have been diminished. Now even while Feanor and the craftsmen of the Noldor worked with delight, foreseeing no end to their labours, and while the sons of Indis grew to their full stature, the Noontide of Valinor was drawing to its close. For it came to pass that Melkor, as the Valar had decreed, completed the term of his bondage, dwelling for three ages in the duress of Mandos, alone. At length, as Manwe had promised, he was brought again before the thrones of the Valar. Then he looked upon their glory and their bliss, and envy was in his heart; he looked upon the Children of Iluvatar that sat at the feet of the Mighty, and hatred filled him; he looked upon the wealth of bright gems, and he lusted for them; but he hid his thoughts, and postponed his vengeance. Before the gates of Valmar Melkor abased himself at the feet of Manwe and sued for pardon, vowing that if he might be made only the least of the free people of Valinor he would aid the Valar in all their works, and most of all in the healing of the many hurts that he had done to the world. And Nienna aided his prayer; but Mandos was silent Then Manwe granted him pardon; but the Valar would not yet suffer him to depart beyond their sight and vigilance, and he was constrained to dwell within the gates of Valmar. But fair-seeming were all the words and deeds of Melkor in that time, and both the Valar and the Eldar had profit from his aid and counsel, if they sought it; and therefore in a while he was given leave to go freely about the land, and it seemed to Manwe that the evil of Melkor was cured. For Manwe was free from evil and could not comprehend it, and he knew that in the beginning, in the thought of Iluvatar, Melkor had been even as he; and he saw not to the depths of Melkor's heart, and did not perceive that all love had departed from him for ever. But Ulmo was not deceived, and Tulkas clenched his hands whenever he saw Melkor his foe go by; for if Tulkas is slow to wrath he is slow also to forget. But they obeyed the judgement of Manwe; for those who will defend authority against rebellion must not themselves rebel. Now in his heart Melkor most hated the Eldar, both because they were fair and joyful and because in them he saw the reason for the arising of the Valar, and his own downfall. Therefore all the more did he feign love for them and seek their friendship, and he offered them the service of his lore and labour in any great deed that they would do. The Vanyar indeed held him in suspicion, for they dwelt in the light of the Trees and were content; and to the Teleri he gave small heed, thinking them of little worth, tools too weak for his designs. But the Noldor took delight in the hidden knowledge that he could reveal to them; and some hearkened to words that it would have been better for them never to have heard. Melkor indeed declared afterwards that Feanor had learned much art from him in secret, and had been instructed by him in the greatest of all his works; but he lied in his lust and his envy, for none of the Eldalie ever hated Melkor more than Feanor son of Finwe, who first named him Morgoth; and snared though he was in the webs of Melkor's malice against the Valar he held no converse with him and took no counsel from him. For Feanor was driven by the fire of his own heart only, working ever swiftly and alone; and he asked the aid and sought the counsel of none that dwelt in Aman, great or small, save only and for a little while of Nerdanel the wise, his wife.

#Silmarillon