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sesamenom · 19 days

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@general-illyrin @tar-thelien @who-needs-words I think you all mentioned being interested in the reverse gondolin au - is anyone interested in helping with wrangling the timelines, especially the second age stuff? Here's the current outline:

(Edit: anyone feel free to help out if you're interested!)

YT 14365 - Birth of Lomion

YT 14373/FA 1 - Death of Argon

2 - Aredhel adopts Lomion

300 - Birth of Idril

316 - Turgon & Idril kidnapped by Eol

400 - Turgon & Idril rescued. Death of Eol

465 - Finrod more-peacefully passes throne to orodreth while on Quest. Everyone except beren still dies

472 - Nirnaeth. Turgon named High King of the Noldor.

476 - Turgon abdicates official title. Aredhel named High King of the Noldor.

496 - Tuor comes to Gondolin

502 - Wedding of Idril and Tuor

503 - Births of Earendil and Elwing. Idril begins to have foresight dreams about the Fall.

506 - Second Kinslaying. C^3 dead, celebrimbor stays in gondolin. Aredhel denounces the oath/kinslaying and disowns C^3

Elwing survives & is found by Oropher & Thranduil // Galadriel & Celeborn. oropher, thranduil, oropher's wife, and thranduil's then-gf // galadriel & celeborn take Elwing to Gondolin as refugees. The Silmaril is left hidden in the woods of melian's domain.

507 - Elwing comes to Gondolin.

509 - Idril captured by Morgoth. Idril reveals the location of Gondolin in exchange for an Oath to not harm her family (Turgon, Tuor, and Earendil). Idril rescued.

510 - Gondolin prepares for war with Morgoth.

513-522 - Siege of Gondolin. Deaths of Duilin and Rog. Gothmog slain by Aredhel the Huntress. First use of the Three Rings by Lomion and Celebrimbor in defense of Gondolin. House of the Hammer of Wrath destroyed.

523 - Maedhros believes a Silmaril is with Elwing at Gondolin.

525 - Earendil weds Elwing. Lomion weds ???. Adoption of Gil-Galad

532 - Births of Elrond and Elros.

538 - Third Kinslaying at Gondolin. Death of Amras. Elrond and Elros kidnapped by Maglor. Deaths of Elwing and Turgon. Second use of the Three Rings by Lomion and Celebrimbor. Deaths of Maedhros and Aredhel. Lomion named King of Gondolin and High King of the Noldor. Deaths of Salgant, Penlod, and Tuor. Earendil named Lord of the House of the Wing.

540-549 - War declared between Gondolin and the Feanorians of Himring over the Third Kinslaying and kidnapping of Princes Elrond and Elros.

549 - Elrond and Elros recovered. Feanorians and Gondolin severely weakened. Celebrimbor // Gil-Galad declared heir to the High Kingship.

552-554 - Second Siege & Fall of Gondolin. Third use of the Three Rings by Lomion and Celebrimbor. Deaths of Ecthelion, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, and Turgon. Idril and Celebrimbor lead survivors through the Secret Way.

555 - Gondolithlim refugees arrive at Sirion.

556 - Idril departs for Valinor.

558 - Earendil searches for Valinor.

560 - Havens of Sirion destroyed by Morgoth. Gondolithlim/Doriathrim survivors scattered. Elrond and Elros rescued (as adults) by Maglor.

572 - Morgoth controls Beleriand. Earendil and reembodied Elwing come to Valinor and rally the Host.

575-617 - War of Wrath

618 - Maglor claims the Silmaril from Eonwe's camp and casts himself into the Sea. Death of Maglor.

620 - End of the First Age.

1 - Founding of the Grey Havens and Lindon under High King Lomion

2 - Elros becomes the first King of Numenor

c. 500 - Sauron returns to Middle-Earth in the East.

650 - Eregion is founded

1000 - Galadriel is given Vilya; Lomion wields Nenya

1170 - Annatar comes to Lindon and Lomion turns him away. Lomion warns Celebrimbor of Eregion of his suspicions.

1200 - Annatar comes to Eregion. Celebrimbor takes him in to monitor.

1250 - Celebrimbor creates the Seven; Lomion creates the Nine.

1410 - Annatar is kicked out of Eregion.

1600 - The One Ring is forged. Sauron remains in hiding.

1610 - Sauron begins to gather and prepare armies in the East.

1673 - War of the Elves and Sauron begins.

1675 - Sauron invades Eriador.

1677 - Fall of Ost-in-Edhil. Celebrimbor and Lomion remain at the House of the Mirdain. Death of Celebrimbor in battle // Fourth use of the Three in battle. Sauron does not learn of the Seven. Founding of Imladris.

1678 - Sauron defeated by the Numenoreans and the Elves of Lindon.

1679 - Sauron flees to Mordor. First White Council held.

3147 - Civil war in Numenor.

3225 - Ar-Pharazon seizes the Sceptre.

3228 - Elrond claims the Sceptre. Ar-Pharazon disowned. Tar-Miriel named Ruling Queen.

3232 - Sauron taken to Numenor as a prisoner.

3274 - Elrond kicks Sauron out of Numenor and outlaws the morgoth cult.

3310 - Morgoth cult publicly reappears.

3319 - Downfall of Numenor. Tar-Miriel leads a greater force of the Faithful away.

(green // blue means two main options, red means i need to think about it more)

The main details I'm figuring out right now are

does Celebrimbor still die at Eregion - I don't think he's getting captured/tortured, but he could still die in the battle. On the other hand, he could probably survive by using Narya & Lomion using Nenya, but that would definitely have repercussions further down the line

how does Idril's deal work - I'm currently thinking of Idril exchanging the location of Gondolin for her family's guaranteed safety, because it seems in character for Reverse Idril? But on the other hand, even if I limit it to immediate family at the time of the oath (tuor, turgon, earendil) then idk where turgon dies? Maybe Maglor can kill him but that seems kind of random

where and how does Turgon die

how does Prince Elrond's character even work

how does Numenor still fall when factoring in Prince Elrond - I'm thinking that the morgoth death cult gained enough traction during the time sauron was there that even after Elrond kicks him out, the cult still sticks around and reemerges later? The Fall still happens, but they never go to attack valinor and there's a good deal more Faithful (maybe 40-60%?)

#silm #silmarillion #not art #reverse gondolin au #basically elrond is giving me a Lot of trouble here #i tacked an extra 30 years onto the FA (so the SA dates are mostly shifted up by 30 years to balance it out; hence elros being king in SA 2 #this means e&e were adults during the Fall of Gondolin and the war of wrath and all #so instead of 'kind as summer' elrond of the last homely house in rivendell #we have gondolithrim veteran/dragonslayer Prince Elrond of Imladris Stronghold #and later the Bastion of the Faithful of Numenor #ironically enough he turned out way more feanorian when not raised by feanorians #instead of sirion e&e's defining Childhood Trauma was the gondolin kinslaying #in which mae and aredhel duel to the death while screaming at each other about fingon's fate and the Oath #and argon and elenwes deaths on the helcaraxe #also elwing fully died trying to protect them in this one #and then e&e were like 20something and sons/grandsons of two Lords durign the FoG so obviously they ended up fighting there too #and then again at the war of wrath #and by the mid SA elrond has already lived through so many wars he's running rather low on hope #so Prince Elrond still tries to be kind but is also substantially more willing to threaten people if need be #after eregion he founds imladris as a haven but also an impenetrable fortress #he saw the fall of gondolin and he knows that rivendell couldn't last forever #but he believes he can make it last long enough to defeat sauron first #or at least push him back so that the refugees of eregion can rebuild and survive #meanwhile celebrimbor takes up the last homely house role #but yeah Prince Elrond is pretty interesting #he intervenes more with numenor bc hes watching them self destruct and knows (bc foresight) exactly what would happen #so he tries (eventually in vain) to prevent it by disowning and exiling ar pharazon #and later exiling sauron around the time of the burning of nimloth #but it's too late and the morgoth cult already gained enough traction #on the other hand there's a lot more Faithful led by tar-miriel

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vorbarrsultana · 11 months

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i just love the third house of the noldor. i love wise finarfin, and delicate eärwen, and unbreakable finrod, and fierce angrod. i love fiery aegnor, and proud galadriel, and gentle orodreth. i love radiant finduilas, and brave gil-galad, and strong celebrían. the ultimate blorbo house

#tolkien #the silmarillion #finarfin #eärwen #finrod #angrod #aegnor #galadriel #orodreth #gil-galad #celebrian #finduilas #house of finarfin

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winterpinetrees · 3 months

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Okay yeah I’m still thinking about logistics. I am aware that lord of the rings is whimsical and I don’t care.

There must be so many people in Rivendell. It’s the Last Homely House, the last decent place before you go off into the deep wilderness. It’s at the bottom of a valley in the middle of nowhere. They aren’t getting everything imported. Elrond must have a full sized settlement there to produce most of the food, even if we are assuming that preserving magic makes it an easy place to live. Rivendell is a refuge too. It’s home to Elrond, his family, a significant number of Noldor like Glorfindel, and who knows how many wanderers. Elves don’t die of old age, and in the Third Age they don’t get murdered particularly often either, so I have to imagine that the population is large and just keeps growing. I don’t get the sense that many travel across the sea until after Sauron falls, and there really isn’t anywhere else for them to go. Lothlorien, maybe? There’s got to be thousands of people in that valley, supporting the Last Homely House and keeping the forces of darkness at bay.

More than that, it’s a huge place fit for the most powerful people in Middle Earth. Rivendell can easily accommodate Bilbo’s entire party in the hobbit and all of the visiting diplomats for the Council of Elrond. Do you have any idea how much manpower (elf power?) it takes to keep a place clean, well-lit, and functional without modern technology? It takes an absurd amount of work. There is nothing in the legendarium that I’m aware of to suggest that elves use magic as a labor saving tool. That means that people are doing all of that work by hand.

Are there elven servants in Rivendell? What about in Valinor? In the Silmarillion, we only ever really read about noble bloodlines, and in LoTR, elves are kept very mysterious. There’s craftsmen who make silmarils and magic rings, but who is forging gear for the average soldier? We know that there are a whole lot of average soldiers. Lord of the rings is a story of battles between armies. Is there upward mobility in an undying land? Whoever is cleaning clothes in Valinor, have they been doing that since the age of the two trees?

Maybe Valinor is more equal than that. Maybe in a place where everyone expects to live forever, they’ve found ways to share the load. But they did have a high king, long ago, and Feanor uses the argument that the elves should go to Beleriand to find freedom and treasure. He’s not a reliable narrator, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about.

What must it be like to be one of the other Noldor? To be a common elf and go east seeking freedom and adventure, only to find suffering like you cannot imagine? To watch that land sink beneath the ocean, to see Numenor be corrupted and fall, to fight Morgoth and Sauron and Sauron again? To finally leave it all behind as everything, even Rivendell and Lindon and Lothlorien, fades? Or maybe you die in combat and spend an eon in the halls of Mandos before reawakening in Valinor. Either way, you’re back!

And someone needs to do the laundry.

#by me #tolkien #the silmarillion #lord of the rings #this is a very rambling post but this is tumblr after all

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nolofinweanweek · 6 months

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Nolofinwëan week is starting in 2 weeks!

Below are some inspirational, nonmandatory prompts for your creations. These suggestions are formatted as questions because they are meant simply to inspire you. Featured timeframes and characters can be mixed and matched in whatever way or disrespected completely.

Day 1: Noontide of Valinor - Darkening | Fingolfin | Anairë

Canon offers only hints about the Noontide of Valinor, a pre-canonical era that established many relationships and events we see unfolding in the Silmarillion. How did Fingolfin and Anairë meet? What kind of childhood experiences did Fingon, Turgon, Aredhel and Argon have? What was their relationship with the families of Fëanor and Finarfin? Were Fingolfin and Fëanor always at odds? How did the interference of Melkor disrupt these relationships? What events developed after Fëanor's banishment to Formenos and Fingolfin's rule in Tirion? How do you envision the Darkening of Valinor?

Day 2: Exile - Arrival to Beleriand | Fingon | Argon | Elenwë

The Flight of the Noldor is a breaking moment, a crisis that brings about some of the most challenging moments for Fingolfin and his family. Can you illustrate the argument that brought about the decision to leave Valinor? What effect did Fingon's participation at Alqualondë have? What were the relationships between the hosts of Fingolfin and Finrod on the Helcaraxë? What was Argon's or Elenwë's story before their passing? How do you interpret the rising of the Moon and the Sun with the host's arrival to Middle-earth? What about that glorious moment when the host challenges Morgoth at his gates?

Day 3: Mithrim - The Long Peace | Turgon | Aredhel | Eöl

The early days of Mithrim solidified the House of Fingolfin as the next line of Noldorin Kings, followed by a 200-year-long siege of Angband. What were the early political relationships between the hosts of Fingolfin and the Fëanorian followers? What prompted Turgon to build Vinyamar and then Gondolin? What was Aredhel's life like in Gondolin before leaving? What kind of new friendships were developed during the Long Peace? Did any reconciliations take place? What were the Nolofinwëan fortresses like during peaceful times? What was the Nolofinwëan relationship like with the local Sindar Elves?

The Battle of Sudden Flame brings another turmoil with the death of Fingolfin and the rising of Fingon as the new High King. This is the beginning of a turbulent period that will culminate with the sinking of Beleriand. How do you imagine these battles? What is your reading of Fingon's Kingship? How do you envision the relationships between the House of Fingolfin and their mortal allies, the House of Hador? What kind of culture did Gondolin develop in its isolation? What brought about the strained relationship between Idril and Maeglin, and how did it affect loyalties in Gondolin? What happened to Gondolin's refugees? What was Idril and Tuor's final fate? How do you imagine Sirion and its multicultural population?

Day 5: Lindon - War of the Ring | Elrond | Elros | Gil-galad | Celebrían

The War of Wrath destroys Beleriand, but the line of Fingolfin goes on through his descendants. How do you imagine the begging of a new life in Lindon? What is your reading of the parentage of Gil-galad? What was his kingship like? What was the relationship between the Peredhil twins? What led to their decision to choose different fates? What kind of culture developed in Lindon, Númenór, Rivendell or other settlements ruled by Nolofinwëan descendants? How did the events from the first age affect relationships in the second and third?

Day 6: Fourth Age Middle-earth - Return to Valinor | Númenórean descendants | Peredhil descendants

The Fourth Age signified the end of the Elven era in Middle-earth and the end of Tolkien's canon. What about your own ideas for this time frame? How does Gondor change under Aragorn and Arwen's rule? Who are their children? What kind of culture develops as the Elves leave Middle-earth? What about the Elves who return or are reborn in Valinor? Can they integrate easily into the place they once called home? Is Valinor even a physical place?

Day 7: AUs, Canon divergences, Freeform | Nolofinwëan OCs | Canon ghosts | Earlier canonical characters

This is a day to let the muses run wild with canon. Do you want to go down deep rabbit holes on obscure canonical details discarded in the published Silmarillion? Have a Nolofinwëan original character that needs a space to shine? What if Fingolfin won the battle against Morgoth? Who was Erien, daughter of Fingon? What if Idril returned Maeglin's love? Who was Elros' wife? What if Elrond decided to choose a mortal fate? Who would the Nolofinwëans be in modern times?

The event directory is accessible here.

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 9 months

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“A Better Future” Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst. Read at your own discretion.

Warnings: Brief mentions of war and injuries | Hair loss as a form of punishment

Wordcount : 2.8k words

Summary: Thranduil brings y/n to Greenwood the Great and Amon Lanc. His father calls for an inquiry.

A/n: I thought of adding the hair loss event written in this post.

Y/n’s plea was partly inspired by Catherine of Aragorn’s speech at the Legatine Court of Blackfriars.

Thranduil’s POV

The days had been hot, the days had been windy, and the days finally grew cold even as they traveled. One season waned while the other waxed, brilliant and glorious as ever. The leaves of Greenwood the Great were turning vivid shades of orange and gold and crimson by the time Thranduil and his retinue rode down familiar paths to Amon Lanc. The crown prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath of sweet-smelling autumn air. The delicate scents of wild geraniums and asters mingled with the duskier scents of fallen leaves and wet bark and fresh moss. The birds sang softly. An owl hooted in the distance. A gentle gust of wind tossed his hair. He sighed in contentment. It was wonderful to be home again.

That sweet feeling slowly disappeared when he looked over his shoulder and his gaze rested on y/n. She kept to herself and rode a little away from the others. Thranduil’s mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. Y/n’s very presence in Amon Lanc would unleash a storm upon his head, and his lord father would be the one to do it.

My father is a forgiving man, Thranduil thought, but I cannot see him forgiving this.

Thranduil did not need to be told the reason. He was there during the second kinslaying. He bore arms and helped his father carve a way out for survivors. His scars lay hidden beneath his robes. The memories from that dark time still haunted his dreams.

And he did not understand why he put himself through such trouble. Oh, the gold itself was never an issue. The final sum was but a drop in the ocean that was now the royal treasury. Thranduil did not understand why he stopped when he heard the gossip and why he rode on to the auction house. He certainly did not understand what compelled him to save her. She was one of the exiles. Her father served under Celegorm. There were dark tales surrounding his deeds, including the part he supposedly played in the seizure of Dior’s children. Thranduil shivered.

Wolves, all of them. And now I bring one of their pups to my Lord Father’s doors.

He looked over his shoulder at y/n again. The masters of the auction house answered his questions as best they could. Y/n had played no part in the slaughter, so they said, and had been forced to wander the land for longer than she could remember. She had no armor and wielded no arms. What little coin she had went to keeping her clothed and fed. She placed herself at the mercy of a man who turned out to be a slaver in the end. Kept perfectly still while that wretched Lady Githa grabbed her and looked her over like she was nothing more than a horse for sale. After having been given food and drink and new garments, she stood to the side, silent and meek, while Thranduil spoke with the masters of the auction house and the final flourish was given to the matter of coin. During their journey, y/n did not speak to any of them the entire time. When they set up camp, she was quiet. When they broke bread, she was quiet. When they sang and laughed and exchanged stories, she was quiet. Oh, she helped, of course, always appearing by Thranduil’s shoulder before he even realized he needed some task carried out. Y/n was quick and did her duties well, but without uttering a sound. She did not even dare look any of them in the eye. If she was grateful to them for what they did, she did not show it.

Thranduil felt his hands turn to fists. Wretched thing, he thought bitterly. Unable to muster a single word of gratitude.

He could not linger on such misgivings. The gates to his father’s halls soon loomed ahead of them. The first autumn rain started to fall, drenching the dark earth and feeding the rivers and streams. The air grew crisp and cool. Thranduil reveled in this as well and threw off his hood so he could feel the fat drops of water plop over his skin. He heard a familiar bellow. His lord father had ridden out to greet them. Oropher sat atop his milky white courser, clad in velvet robes of gold and silver. Thranduil sighed. His father was in a high mood this day, and he was sure to dampen it with his news. He sat up straight and girded himself before racing ahead to meet his king and sire.

Oropher heard his son out on the ride back to his halls. And Oropher bit his tongue until he and his son were safely ensconced within the walls of his council room. And when the doors closed on them Oropher did not hold back, not by any measure. The king was exceedingly wroth, purpling and raging for hours on end. Thranduil acted without his father’s leave and freed the child of a kinslayer. He had promised gold from the royal coffers for this very purpose. Brought her with him to Greenwood, and possibly endangered them all.

"And now we may have to feed and house the lady," Oropher declared after having taken a while to finally compose himself. Attendants walked in carrying trays filled with refreshments. The king waited until they had taken their leave before speaking again. "Since you made yourself responsible for her and she truly has nowhere else to go," he turned to face his son. "Tell me, my son. What even compelled you to save her?"

What indeed. Throughout their journey, Thranduil had reflected on his actions and failed to devise an answer that could satisfy anyone, least of all himself. "I do not know, my lord," he confessed. "All I do know is that I could not simply ride away and abandon her to her fate. You know of Lady Githa, and what her pleasure house is like."

"To be sure," Oropher wrinkled his face in distaste. "That woman is one of the most evil creatures to have ever been birthed by one of the Edain."

He rejoined his son at the council table and took his customary place at the head of it. Oropher steepled his fingers beneath his chin and soon lost himself in deep thought. Thranduil did not utter a word while his father sat as if he had been hewed out of stone. Oropher was reflecting on the choices he had had to make; his son was certain of it.

"I may consider letting her stay," Oropher finally said, "but we need to learn how much she knew of her father’s actions. Send word to my courtiers and have them all meet me in the throne room. I believe an inquiry is in order."

An hour later, Thranduil took his place by his father’s right hand. He watched while members of the court and other elves poured into the cavernous throne room. Guards stood to attention, spears and shields in hand, and clad in gleaming armor chased in green and gold. The lamps burned as brightly as they always did. Y/n was escorted by a small complement of armed warriors. She was made to drop to her knees while the others watched. Y/n bowed her head, silent and respectful. Thranduil heard hushed, excited tones. There had never been an inquiry before. No one had done anything to even justify the need for one.

Many of the elves studied y/n with barely disguised curiosity. Save for the survivors of Doriath, very few had encountered the exiles. Now they were seeing one for the first time in the flesh. The court scribes took their appointed places, parchment and quills and new ink already placed upon their little tables. They would write down every word spoken at the inquiry and preserve the records for the use of others. Once Oropher had been satisfied with the number of witnesses, he called the inquiry to order.

The king leaned forward and began with the usual questions: questions about y/n’s life, her home, and her family. Y/n answered as best as she could. She spoke of their home, about her father, about her mother. Oropher questioned y/n about the sons of Fëanor, and if her father or mother had ever hosted them in their home. Y/n withered under the king’s sharp gaze, but there was nothing she could do but answer.

"Lord Celegorm would sometimes dine with father," y/n replied after a great deal of hesitancy. "Other times, Lord Curufin would join him."

"I see." Oropher frowned. "And were you a party to these gatherings?"

"No… your grace," y/n answered in fits and starts, as if her tongue had tied itself up in knots. "My father… he said he thought I was too young to be privy to such discussions."

"But did you meet either of these lords?"

"Yes. My father… he introduced me to them. And to others in their retinue."

Oropher was curious, as was Thranduil. "Pray tell me why?"

Y/n faltered. A guard thumped the butt of his spear into the ground, forcing her to answer. "My… my father had hopes of my marrying one of Lord Fëanor’s unwed sons… or… or the grandson."

"Your father entertained the notion of you marrying one of them?" Oropher shot back bluntly. "And you would have agreed had any of them asked for your hand?"

Y/n swallowed, and said, "Yes, your grace. Many an… unwed maiden in our clans would have… c-considered it an honor. They were of Lord Fëanor’s b-blood after all."

Thranduil sputtered and would have retorted had his father not given him a look of warning. He composed himself and heard the king say, "An honor? Were you ignorant of the things they did before the second kinslaying?"

"Everyone knew… your grace," y/n replied, her eyes wide with fear. "M-mothers would tell their children tales of Alqualondë and the great crossing. They… they all believed in Lord Fëanor’s cause."

"Do you believe in Lord Fëanor’s cause to retrieve the hallowed jewels no matter what the cost?" Oropher asked in harsh tones. "And do not lie to me. Life in Amon Lanc will go very badly for you if you do."

Y/n did not answer, not for a long while, not until Oropher harrumphed with impatience. "I… I did… at the beginning," she confessed. "The… the silmarils were Lord Fëanor’s by right… after all."

The uproar that followed from the survivors was deafening. Some demanded that y/n be sent away from Amon Lanc. Others demanded that she be thrown into a cell for the remainder of her days. More warriors thumped the butts of their spears against the polished stone floor to bring about some order to the proceedings. The sounds they made were drowned out by the cries of angry elves. Oropher’s face darkened even as he remained silent. Thranduil prickled with anger and decided to put an end to the clamor.

"Enough!" he bellowed. The others turned to face him and his father, having quietened themselves little by little. The scribes all turned as one to face the prince, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I was right," the prince went on. There were soft scratching noises from quills scrawling over thick parchment. "Your lot is nothing but a pack of wolves, forever on the prowl for your next prey. I would even go as far to wager you may be no better than your father and the masters he served."

Y/n flinched back as if she had been slapped. "But… but you saved me from her," she sniffed.

"Yes," Thranduil replied, unmoved by the sorrow in her eyes. Still, he felt strange when she spoke to him directly. It was the first time she had done so since he purchased her freedom. "I confess, however, that I do not know the reason why."

"Tis is a question for another time," Oropher interceded. "Let us carry on with the proceedings for now. Lady y/n, do you have anything to add? Anything you wish to say in your defense?"

Y/n looked around her and shivered. "I do not know… your grace." She wrung her hands and picked at the beds of her nails before turning her gaze to the floor. "I… I only knew what my father and mother told me. As for what… my father did in Doriath… I did not know what he was going to do until after the act. Mother and I only learned of it after he was slain. I… do not ask for much… save for some compassion… for I was born somewhere other than this kingdom, and have neither coin nor friend to my name. I... all I ask is for a safe place to stay… and I will be… well pleased and content with whatever kindness that…that is given to me. But if you do not wish for me to stay here you… you need only say the word, your grace. I will depart… and manage. Somehow."

Oropher sat there with his sharp gray eyes pining her to where she stood. He grew silent again, this time debating his verdict. Later, it was said that the silence that followed was so heavy that it weighed down on everyone present.

"Will you swear to never take up arms against us?" The king spoke slowly.

"Yes," she whispered.

Oropher nodded. "And will you be content with whatever task that is given to you while you remain with us?"

Y/n hesitated, but gave her answer to the king. "Yes. I… I will be content. And g-grateful."

"Grateful?" Thranduil snorted bitterly. "Like the gratitude you showed us after we saved you from that vile place?"

Y/n was startled. She opened her mouth to form a reply, and struggled to find the right words. Thranduil glanced at his father. The king had grown weary. It showed in the shadows beneath his eyes. Oropher sighed softly and signaled for the guards to help her to her feet.

"I have come to a decision, but it is not a decision I make lightly," the king began. "Y/n, you may stay here with us, and you will make yourself useful in the kitchens and serve us."

The relief on her face was palpable.

"But," Oropher raised a hand and continued, clearly not finished with his verdict. "I need to make an example of you, should other followers of the sons of Fëanor turn up at our door. They need to see that our mercy does not come freely. Therefore, I have decided your hair must be shorn. Just above the neck should do."

Y/n lowered her head and trembled. "I accept."

It did not take long to find two ellith willing to carry out the king’s verdict. All those who had gathered in the throne room looked in silence while they came forth, each holding a golden pair of scissors in their hands. One stood by y/n’s right, and the other stood to her left. They turned to face the king. When Oropher gestured, they went straight to work.

Pins were removed. Braids slowly loosened. All anyone heard after that was the crisp, snip snip snip of two pairs of scissors clicking. The elves watched, utterly enthralled by the scene unfolding before their eyes. Lustrous long hair was seen as the ideal when it came to elven beauty, and to have even a little cut as a form of punishment was both debasing and humiliating. And elven hair took so long to grow out. Y/n’s hair would take years to grow back to its former glory, and if it saddened her, she did not show it, not at that moment. Y/n simply stood like a stone statue while thick locks of her hair slowly drifted to the floor and gathered in small clumps.

Snip snip snip. More hair had to be cut. The ellith worked effortlessly until y/n’s hair was just beneath her chin and a small pile had formed around her feet. Y/n did not speak, and she did not raise her voice to curse them. She simply bowed her head and endured the entire time. When they were finally finished, when they put away their scissors and stepped away, she lifted her head. Her lips had been quivering, and her eyes had been filled with unshed tears. Thranduil shifted uncomfortably in his seat after having experienced a sudden pang of conscience. He had called her a wolf, but was she truly one? Or was she simply guilty of being born into the wrong family?

"Find yourself a room in the servants’ quarters," Oropher ordered. "Appropriate clothing will be provided to you, as well as food. You will start your duties on the morrow."

The guards took her to hand and escorted her through the crowd and down a narrow passageway leading to the kitchens and the servants’ rooms. A maid rushed into the hall and swept away the shorn locks of hair. The throne room was beginning to empty. The elves talked about the inquiry and what transpired before they departed for their dwellings. The scribes sanded their parchment before rolling each and every one of them carefully. Once the great hall had been cleared of all the other elves, Oropher leaned over to whisper in his son’s ear.

"Keep a close eye on her," he commanded. "We cannot take any chances."

Thranduil nodded in agreement.

If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting/reblogging it!

tags: @deadlymistletoe @lemonivall @coopsgirl @tigereyesf @thranduilseyebrows @cupids-got-me @jane0error @asianbutnotjapanese

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #x reader #reader insert #Oropher #Oropher imagine #Thranduil angst #reader angst #greenwood the great #Amon Lanc #The silm #the silm imagines #the silmarilion #writeblr #fanfiction #💫a world of whimsy writes

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shrikeseams · 10 months

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(you can't tell me the house of Feanor doesn't have gifted jewelsmiths among their followers who can put in a protective charm or a healing spell or something)

-@disorganisedautodidact

Excised from the reblog chain for length/off-topicness, but I'm now brooding over the variety of benign beneficial forms of magic jewelry the noldor could focus on in the second and third ages. Healing, yes, good, and also I suspect a degree of... luck? Safety? Little charms to turn a blade, or at least divert it from vulnerable bits like eyes and organs. (Actually, I bet those started out as workplace safety charms in Aman, and were turned to martial uses in the early first age. They make for popular trade goods with laiquendi hunters and the marchwardens of doriath.)

But also things like bonds-breaking! An entire department of the gwaith-i-mirdain focused on how to effectively embed something like Finrod's chain-breaking spell into something small and innocuous like a belt buckle or earring, or an embroidery design on one's undershirt. And it does take a whole department, because (as finrod's example suggests) it's a trick that requires wild amounts of power and finesse, but even more so if one wants to incorporate it into everyday wear items. The department is NOTORIOUS for wandering around with buttons and bootlaces and hair ties and brooches and necklace clasps all undone, or coming undone and being re-closed every 15 minutes or so. After a certain point the department head just takes to wearing a bedsheet most of the time because the latest experiments won't even leave a stitched seam in place. She trails loose threads behind her wherever she goes.

#Tolkien #Unfortunately for Celebrimbor & Co nobody gets it nailed down until post-reimbodiment #With consultation from finrod and aule and namo (an expert in binding)#But it's finished in time for celebrian to be given a very fine and very complete trousseau of unbinding jewelry upon landing in aman #That is one fear at least that can be held at bay for her #Nobody can even close a hand around her wrist without a sting like a nest of righteous hornets #San shoots the breeze

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animatorweirdo · 1 month

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When the dragons fly(book 2)

Three years have now passed. Your dear little brother had nearly learned everything, and you still wonder about your elven friend's true identity. But then, you see a troubling dream that reminds you of a certain fortune teller's prediction.

[] = High Valyrian

Chapter 13

Warnings: mentions of wars, coming battles, infections, injured throats, muteness, getting hit, Aelon getting struck hard, suspicions, nightmares, fire, burning, getting killed, and troubling predictions.

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

Three years have passed.

Galloping through the forest, Maedhros returned to the village with Aelon riding right behind him. The young teen rode upon a black and white horse borrowed from the village's stablemaster for his riding lessons, having grown tall enough to handle the reins and the stirrups on his own.

"That was good, but you still leave yourself behind," Maedhros said as they came to a trot.

"Learn to speed it up a bit. That way, you don't end up being left behind or get caught by your pursuers," he added.

Aelon shook his head. "Maybe you're just going too fast for me. How do you expect me to catch up with you when you ride faster than the wind?" he asked, making Maedhros chuckle.

"Well, you need to learn how to ride as fast as the wind. You won't get anywhere if I continue going easy on you," Maedhros replied as they arrived at your house.

In a small training field that you had set up for Eweniel and Ramuel, who also wanted to learn how to shoot with a bow, you stood behind them as they aimed at the targets.

"And shoot,"

The two released their arrows. Ramuel's arrow hit a few rings beneath the dot, but Eweniel struck bullseye with hers.

"Nice!" Eweniel grinned as it was her third time in a row hitting the center of the target. "Well done, Ewe. You're exceptionally talented at this," you praised, then glanced down at Ramuel. "Ramuel, aim a bit higher. The arrow will fly farther and won't fall to the ground at the last minute," you instructed.

"Okay..." Ramuel said quietly. "Don't overthink it. It's only been a week since you started learning. You have time to master this," you reassured him, then noticed Maedhros and Aelon returning from their ride.

"This will be all for today," you said.

"When will I get to learn how to wield a sword?" Eweniel asked as she and Ramuel went to pick up their arrows. "Once your parents get comfortable with the idea. Be happy that they allowed you to learn archery," you answered.

"But I'm already so good shooting with the bow. You said it yourself," Eweniel said. "I did, but I can't go against your parent's wishes," you replied, making her groan. "Be patient. I'm certain they will eventually let you train with the sword soon enough," you tried to assure her. "But even Aelon has a real sword now. It will take ages before my parents will finally let me hold a sword," Eweniel pointed at the sword attached to Aelon's hip, a gift from Maedhros after learning all he could from him.

"Oh, don't be like that. You still have time," Aelon said while petting his horse.

You chuckled as Maedhros walked up to you, and Aelon left to return his horse to the stablemaster. Eweniel and Ramuel also left after cleaning up.

"They have become more energetic. I wonder how long it will take before Eweniel decides to train herself to catch up with Aelon," you mused.

"Well, they can become more rebellious at this age, so it's not impossible," Maedhros remarked, then observed your village as people were busier than usual.

"There seems to be more unrest than usual," Maedhros stated.

"Yes... it's about an upcoming battle. Some houses from other villages and people have been called to join a cause to fight Morgoth, or so I heard," you explained. "It was apparently some elven lord from the Noldor who made such a call," you added.

"And what do you think about it?" Maedhros asked. "It's a bit sudden, to be honest," you answered. "Morgoth and the Noldor had been quiet since the war of the sudden flames. To suddenly call to arms to fight after hearing someone steal a silmaril from Morgoth is a bit unexpected," you explained.

"I certainly hope the lord behind this knows what he is doing and has enough knowledge to pull this off," you stated.

"You do not think he might not be able to pull this off?" Maedhros asked.

"If he manages to rally all the people of Beleriand to fight for his cause, then maybe he has a good chance. I don't know much about Morgoth and his stronghold in the north, but I do know that his power is great, and he might be hiding a few tricks up his sleeve," you said, looking at him. "Who knows what he has been doing inside his fortress for all these years," you added. "So rallying an attack like this, caution should be the best course of action."

"My father always told me that the worst enemy is the one you know less about," you stated.

"You're... not wrong, but I think Morgoth will fail this time," Maedhros said, quietly contemplating your words.

You observed him from the corner of your eye. He was quiet and seemingly lost in thought.

"Anyway... Nelyo," you said, gaining his attention. "There is going to be a celebration feast soon. We had a good harvest year, and because of the upcoming battle, we decided to hold it early. If you have time, would you be willing to join us?" you asked with a hopeful tone.

"I... I'll see what I can do," Maedhros answered. "Sorry, but I must get going now," he said, then left.

You watched as he climbed back on his horse and rode out of the village. Your mind was bothered by his strange behavior. He had started visiting less and seemed more restless than ever. You were also still wondering about his real identity. He has opened up a bit to you for the past years, but there was still so much mystery around him.

"Hey, is something wrong? Did Nelyo already leave?" Aelon asked after returning from his walk to the stablemaster.

"Nothing. Let's take a hike in the mountains. We need to check on the food storage and the younglings," you said and then walked into your house, trying to brush off the suspicions you had about your elven friend.

At the mountains, Baleria was outside, feasting upon a deer she had caught for herself. Aegar and Viserya were eyeing her prey, even daring to sneak closer to try to have a bite, but the older dragon growled them away, slightly annoyed by their presence and constant attempt to steal her prey.

You were standing in front of Smoke with Samuel, trying to teach the young dragon to breathe fire upon the dead rabbit on the ground.

"[Dracarys]," You said as Smoke only croaked at you, confused by the word and why you would not allow him to eat the rabbit.

"[Dracarys]," you said again.

Smoke only crouched down, attempting to lean his head forward enough to snatch the rabbit. "Smoke..." you looked at him with a warning tone. His ears flattened against his head, and he stared at you with pleading eyes. "Don't even try it," you said sternly, causing him to hiss and pull back.

"You get to eat the rabbit. If you do the thing," you gently explained.

"[Dracarys]," you said with a commanding tone.

Smoke stared intently at the rabbit. Black smoke started to billow out of his nostrils, and his chest began to steam as he took in deep breaths, preparing to release his breath.

You and Samuel watched as Smoke released a puff of smoke, then released a blast of scorching hot air onto the rabbit, burning off the fur and steaming the meat until it was piping hot.

Samuel clapped his hands with an excited smile as you finally allowed Smoke to eat the steaming rabbit.

"He will finally be able to feed for himself from now on," you stated as Smoke swallowed the rabbit in one bite.

“How long will it take for them to breathe real fire?” Samuel asked while petting Smoke.

“Dragons should be able to breathe fire when they’re three months old, but since it took this long for those three to even learn how to produce hot air. There is a possibility that it will take many more years for them to learn, or they may never learn at all. I wonder if this is why they were abandoned in that nest,” you said thoughtfully.

Smoke then tried to chirp, but it came out as a mix of groans and croaks, which was not a natural sound from a dragon.

“Oh, Smoke,” Samuel said as the dragon looked embarrassed by the sound he produced.

“(Name). Is there truly no medicine that could help Smoke to get his voice back?” Samuel questioned while comforting the dragon. “He sounds worse each day. At this rate, he is going to sound like a lizard toad,” he added.

“I’m afraid so. That infection Smoke suffered last year left a nasty injury to his vocal cords,” you replied with a pitying look since it meant the young dragon would be unable to vocalize for the rest of his life. “I don’t think he would even be able to find himself a mate with that voice,” you added.

“Well, he doesn’t have to worry about finding a mate. He could stay with me so he wouldn’t be lonely,” Samuel smiled. You smiled in return, touched by the idea.

The sounds of beating wings reached your ears, and then you saw Aelon flying with Falconer, riding upon the saddle you finished making last year. Falconer landed on the side of the cliff, roaring like a falcon as the metal straps on his chest jiggled. You carefully observed the straps of the saddle. Since Falconer had grown larger than a house over the years, there were some adjustments you needed to finish on the saddle, but so far, everything seemed to be working just fine.

"How is the saddle for you?" you called out to Aelon as he was still on Falconer's back. "It's great! It works pretty well! But some of the straps are making funny noises, and the saddle might be a bit loose," Aelon explained, moving around on his new saddle.

"You get used to it in time. Maybe we only need to tighten up the girth," you said. "Well, whatever it is. I think I'm gonna go on another fly around the mountains if that's okay with you?" Aelon asked.

"Go for it! Just stay out of sight!" you replied.

Aelon grinned. "I will... [Fly Falconer]!" Falconer pushed down his wings, shrieking as he flew into the sky, away from the cave.

You smiled briefly before your attention was drawn by distant thundering. Turning northward, you saw a black storm lingering above the Thangorodrim and the Iron Mountains. It was a concerning sight, accompanied by the distant sound of lightning. The increased wind only added to your unease, leaving you contemplating the implications of the upcoming battle.

A black storm was usually a bad omen. While a thunderstorm might have presented an opportunity for attack under normal circumstances, but there was something ominous about this storm. You do not know why, but it felt like this storm had a will of its own or was following the will of another.

Giggling then reached your ears, and you saw Samuel playing with Smoke. The sight warmed your heart as the two have bonded over the years. You had allowed Samuel to be a caretaker for the hatchlings, and the hatchlings had grown well under his care. They had grown larger than hunting dogs, which made it impossible to keep them in the house anymore, so they now lived in the mountains with Baleria and Falconer.

"Hey, (Name). Could Smoke grow big as Baleria one day?" Samuel asked as the young dragon basked in the attention he was receiving.

“Well, that one is possible,” you then grinned. “Why? Are you hoping you could ride Smoke one day?" you asked.

"Maybe..." Samuel looked away, embarrassed.

"Well, we just have to wait and see once Smoke has grown bigger," you smiled.

"Now, come on. We need to tidy things up. It looks like it might rain soon," you stated. Samuel picked himself up and assisted you in cleaning up the stable. Together, you waited for Aelon to return from his flight, and then all three of you returned to the village.

After returning to the village, you and Aelon decided to have a quick training session with long sticks as you had started teaching him handling spears and long point end weapons. He had long learned how to handle a sword and two blades, the latter having been more challenging for him to learn. However, handling a spear seemed to come naturally to him.

"Alright, let's recall what we learned from our previous session," you said as Aelon was spinning the stick in his hand.

"(Name), you seem a bit restless. Is everything alright?" Aelon questioned.

"Everything is fine. Let's just focus on the session," you replied.

"It just seems like you're forcing yourself to be busy and all," Aelon prepared himself, holding the stick in a defensive position.

"Just some minor things. Now focus, and show me what you have learned," you ordered, and then Aelon attacked, trying to poke you with the top of the stick. You stepped back, blocking his attempts. He then tried to strike you from the side and even went for your face. You quickly moved your head to the side, avoiding the stick and then grabbing it. With a swift motion, you struck your training sword against his stomach, causing him to groan and step back.

"That was good, but you need to be quicker than that," you stated as Aelon charged again.

As you blocked Aelon's attempts to hit you, your mind was troubled by the impending battle and Maedhros's peculiar behavior. He started acting oddly ever since the day when Helena shared the news about the elven princess and the stolen silmaril. And he even acted odd today when you two talked about the incoming battle and the possibilities of pulling it off. It's like he is somewhat involved with it.

Even though he had opened up to you more about himself, being the eldest of his brothers and doing important work for his people, which he did not really clarify, like what kind of work. You still knew very little. You knew he was part of the Noldor, but there were still some things he had not shared. You had tried not to inquire too much about his life out of respect, but now, you wanted answers to your nagging suspicions.

Deep in your thoughts, you failed to block one of Aelon's attacks.

Aelon managed to hit you hard on the rib, making you snap back to reality and strike back in a reflex.

You struck Aelon's weapon away before striking him in the legs, making him yelp and fall on his back with a harsh thud.

Your mind finally realized what you did when you heard Aelon groan and saw him lying on the ground.

"Ah... Aelon! I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?!" you dropped your training sword and crouched down to him in worry.

"Ow! I didn't know you could hit him that hard," Aelon sat up before looking at you. "You drifted off. I actually managed to hit you," he stated with a confused tone.

"Yes... I did. My mind was elsewhere," you looked away in embarrassment.

"Okay, (Name)! Sit down!" Aelon gently pulled you down, making you sit against the ground before looking at you deep in the eye.

"What is going on with you? You should always keep a sharp focus during a fight," he questioned, then waited for your answer.

You exhaled, relaxing your shoulders, deciding to tell what had been weighing on your mind.

"You're right..." You started. "It's about Nelyo. I... think he's not telling us everything," you added.

Aelon stared at you curiously. "What do you mean? He's been our friend for three years now?" he questioned.

"I know, I know, but— like he doesn't know about our dragons. We don't know much about him," you explained. "We know he lives among the Noldor, but we do not know exactly where. We know he has brothers, but we do not know their names or the names of his parents, and we know that he does important work, which makes him quite busy, but he hasn't told us what kind of work it is," you listed while Aelon listened, nodding his head as he began to think about it himself.

"Do you see where I'm going with this?" you asked.

"Yeah. Now that you told me," Aelon nodded with a questioning look, thinking the same as you.

"And upon our second meeting. I noticed how Nelyo seemed hesitant to tell us his name, so there might be a chance Nelyo might not be his real name," you stated. "Or it could be since the elves could have more than one name, but it's a name we wouldn't recognize him as," you quickly explained.

"Okay... but why would he hide things from us?" Aelon asked.

"Perhaps for the same reason as how we keep our dragons a secret," you answered thoughtfully.

"For all we know, he could be an elven lord or even a prince," you said.

"What makes you think he could be a prince?" Aelon asked.

"Quite a lot of things, actually. Usually, those from a noble ground go on hunts in a large hunting party. And the way he talks and holds himself, and let’s not forget that he also gave you a generous gift, which would have been expensive for us, which means he’s quite wealthy," you listened and mentioned Aelon's sword, which he had named Dragon Tooth.

"That makes sense..." Aelon nodded to himself before turning his gaze on you. "We need to ask Nelyo if he is a prince or something!" he stated.

"Well, we just have to wait for his next visit. Now, let's get back to the session. We're losing precious sunlight," you stood up. Aelon whined before standing up to continue the sparring lesson with you.

Smoke surrounded you, blurring your vision, and heavy coughs escaped as you unintentionally inhaled it. Quickly crouching down, you covered your face and mouth with your arm, trying to see through the haze.

Confusion overwhelmed you as you surveyed the smoke-filled house. Why was it smoking all of a sudden? Was there a fire?

Your ears then heard something heavy breaking above you. Looking up, you were startled to see a burning wooden beam falling toward you. Reacting quickly, you dropped back as the beam crashed before you, scattering embers everywhere. Instinctively, you covered yourself to avoid getting hit in the eyes, then realized with horror that it was your house that was burning around you.

"Aelon!" you called out but couldn't hear anything except the burning wood around you.

"Over here!" you heard Aelon call out from the outside.

Dashing quickly toward the doorway, you made it outside just in time before your house collapsed, burning in flames.

You coughed out the smoke from your lungs, then paled when you witnessed the chaos around you.

The whole village was on fire. All the people were screaming as they were getting chased and killed by the orcs.

"Mom! Dad!" you heard Eweniel cry out, and saw her house collapse in flames. The young girl stood outside, sobbing as she watched her home burn. Her parents were nowhere in sight, leading you to fear they were trapped inside the burning house.

You then heard a woman's scream and saw the twins' mother holding Samuel in her arms, crying as there was a black arrow sticking out of his chest. Her husband and Ramuel were tugging her to run away with them.

"(Name)! Don't just stand there! Run!" Helena yelled before she was then attacked and mauled by a warg.

You were horrified by the sight and found yourself unable to move.

A loud, ear-piercing roar ripped through the sky. You winced in pain before seeing the peaks of Thangorodrim and a large shadow standing over them.

It was massive, and when it spread its wings, you beheld an enormous black dragon towering over the mountains. Its eyes gleamed red as blood, and its chest glowed with the intensity that it looked like it was leaking lava.

The dragon laid its red eyes upon you, and before you even knew it, the beast unleashed a torrent of fire upon you and the world around you.

You yelled in fright as you woke up on your bed. You felt your heart pound against your chest, and you subconsciously started checking yourself for burns.

You then heard something running behind your walls before someone opened the door to your room.

"(Name)! I heard you scream. Is everything alright?" Aelon asked worriedly, standing at the door. You breathed in and calmed yourself. "I'm alright," you sighed, then looked at him with a questioning frown. "But why are you up so late?" you asked.

"I had a bad dream. I couldn't sleep after that, so I went to get some water," Aelon explained.

“It was awful. Everything was on fire," Aelon said.

You looked at him as he started describing his dream.

"Our house and the whole village were on fire. Eweniel was standing alone in front of her house as it burned down. Someone had shot Samuel, and then I saw the mountains," he described, making your eyes widen.

"The three big ones, the I saw an enormous.." Aelon continued.

"Dragon," you finished for him. Aelon looked at you as you rubbed your brows. "I saw it too..." you uttered.

"What could it possibly mean?" Aelon asked.

"Hopefully, nothing," you answered.

"But I've seen a prophetic dream before. The one before Amdirvelui kidnapped me, remember?" Aelon sat at the edge of your bed.

"What if this is a prophetic dream too since we both saw it?" he asked, making you think of the possibility.

"If it is, then we might face something terrible in the future," you said. "But let's not think about it. We can never be sure," you added with an apprehensive tone.

"I once saw Falconer appear in my dream, trying to rescue me. And he did come when I was being kidnapped," Aelon said. "This dream felt too real just to be a dream," he stated.

You remained quiet. The dream felt too real for you as well. Your mind was still bothered by the sight of the smoke, fire, and death. They reminded you too much of your time as a commander and the things you did.

You released a deep sigh.

"Try to go back to sleep. Let's think about it tomorrow," you laid back on your bed.

"Okay..." Aelon uttered, stepping away from your bed. "Goodnight," he said as he walked out of your room. "Goodnight," you mumbled as he closed the door, and you heard him return to his room.

Your mind returned to the dream, replaying the horrid scenario again and again.

You didn't want to think about it, but you had an awful feeling that the dream might be linked to the upcoming battle against Morgoth, especially if it was the aftermath and Morgoth freed his terror all over the world. The scenario would fit all too well.

Then, The woman's prediction came to mind—the one where all the birds flee forever south, and the blue banner of the king is set ablaze.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, pushing the troubling thoughts away and attempting to find sleep before sunrise.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #when the dragons fly #hotd x reader #hotd #middle earth #silmarillion imagines #various x reader #targaryen reader #silmarillion x targaryen reader #maedhros x reader

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zealouswerewolfcollector · 4 months

Text

End of Year Fic Recs

I was tagged by @swanmaids and @grey-gazania. Thank you both <3 The year hasn't ended yet, so I can post this.

Inviting all tagged authors to participate if you haven't already.

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Five Series/Multi-Chapter Fics

1. By Treason of Kin Unto Kin by @amethysttribble

This epic Silm/aSoIaF crossover is the third part of Tribble's Everlasting Song series. It's gripping, fantastically written and very carefully thought out. You won't regret checking out how the sons of Feanor, reborn in Westerosi noble families, navigate the aSoIaF world.

2. The Valiant by whyyesindeed

Reborn Fingon returns to Beleriand to find his husband just before the Third Kinslaying in this beautiful and touching fic. It has a sequel too, which I haven't read yet, but I'm sure it's just as well-written as the first part.

3. Celechwes Fixes the Noldor by @tanoraqui

To my shame, I haven't finished this fic yet, but I can't recommend it enough. Celechwes - who marries both Fingon and Maedhros - is a delightful protagonist, the story flows so smoothly and is so much fun to read, while also being very moving.

4. The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant by @melestasflight and @polutrope

All seven sons of Feanor court Fingon in this hilarious, brilliant and inspiring fic. I had so much fun reading it, and if you haven't yet, please do yourselves a favor.

5. For We Walk by Faith, Not by Sight by an_evasive_author

This fic began in 2019 and continues to this day, and I still love it like before. Post-Thangorodrim and beyond Russingon with canon divergence. It is exceptional but deals with a very heavy subject-matter, so make sure you read the tags.

Five Single Chapter Fics/One-Shots

1. Tender Morsels by @sallysavestheday

Everything Sally writes is brilliant, but this one did something to my brain. Dark romance (like cannibalism dark) and Russingon coupled with perfect prose. It makes me go insane.

2. Project Requirements by @searchingforserendipity25

This short supply list by Miriel will delight you and break your heart. The author is an expert in this.

3. The knife that shapes the knife by @quixoticanarchy

This OC-centric fic is a careful, heartbreaking study of observing without acting, going with the flow until you sink into evil when you were trying to do good. It stayed with me for a long time.

4. enemy of good by @welcomingdisaster

Every single fic by the author could be here, I chose this one because it was the first one of I read. Maedhros is going through some stuff and tries to resolve it through bondage and sex. Incredible characterization and writing. Russingon, E-rated.

5. post mortem by @swanmaids

Examination of four Feanorian bodies post-Second Kinslaying - a brilliant idea, executed perfectly. The clinical description doesn't take away from the horror, on the contrary, adds to it.

Five Oldies but Goodies

1. No Way You Can Fall by @hhimring

Himring's Maedhros is one of my absolute favorite Maedhroses ever. This fic takes place post-canon with Maedhros freshly out of the Halls meeting a suspicious Fingolfin at Fingon's house. It is written with so much care and gentleness. It warms my heart every time I read it.

2. Tributary by @oopsbirdficced

It's a Spirited Away/Silm fusion and it's Russingon! What's not to love? Adorable, beautiful and magical, I still remember this fic from time to time, even though I read it so long ago.

3. In From the Cold by @dorwinionwhining

Short but so sweet and so well-written Russingon ficlet. The tenderness and their easiness with each other kills me. So good!

4. fools enough to love each other more than we can bear by @potatoobsessed999

After the Nirnaeth, Maedhros receives braids with golden ribbons from Morgoth. Now he has to decide if he should go and save Fingon. Unbearably painful and so good. I can't bear to reread it because it hurts so much.

5. Testrun by goldtoashes and heirsofbrokenlegacies

This is just one part of the authors' series Grow as we go. It's a Modern AU that includes pairings Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros/Sauron, Sauron/Celebrimbor and even Maedhros/Sauron/Fingon. The whole series is amazing, but this part is my favorite because it's just Maedhros and Fingon in domestic bliss. The series is E-rated, this one part is M-rated.

Five Fics of My Own

1. Lady Makalaurë Fëanáriel Dying of Poison, Late Second Age, Artist Unknown

Post-canon Maglor wanders alone in her spaceship until she discovers something that Gil-galad has to know. This fic doesn't get much attention, which is understandable (it's an AU, a Space AU at that, genderbent and Maglor/Wife), but I loved writing it and I still like it. This was my second TRSB fic this year, and it's the first time I wrote two fics for this event, so I'm pretty proud of it.

2. My cannibalism ficlet and it's companion the other cannibalism ficlet

The first one is quite tragic because I like tormenting Fingon. The second one is lighter in mood, but it's still about cannibalism, so.

3. Alone in the Unknown

The angstiest thing I've ever written. It's the latest part of my Fingon Lives AU. This one focuses on Maglor and his futile attempts to bring Maedhros out of his near-catatonic state.

4. Fingolfin and Fingon and later Maedhros and Fingon discuss some heavy subjects

Not to be too modest, but I think I did some of my best writing here. Fingolfin has fears that Maedhros might be under Morgoth's influence and shares them with his son.

5. Now a Quill, Now a Sword

Maedhros and Fingon's relationship told mostly through letters. This fic deserves a click just for @melestasflight's absolutely stunning art embedded in there if not for anything else. It was a pleasure collaborating with them.

#silmarillion #silm fic #fic rec #zwc fic #a lot of these are russingon of course #but there are a few others

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searchingforserendipity25 · 6 months

Text

A Thing That Sustains | @nolofinweanweek

Idril learned to make bread from her grandmother. She was young and charmingly solemn, then: young and sweet enough that her interest in the craft was seen as a precocious interest in maidenly duties, childish and darling. She had no words, then, for the inchoate fear that turned her hands greedy and sparse with the flour.

Elenwë ate only fruits and vegetables, and took as doctrine, as some of the Vanyar did, not to use a pestle or iron pan except on ceremonial days.

Anairë it was that taught Itarillë to make bread in the Noldorin fashion.

Anairë it was that woke her in the mornings of her childhood, well before the Mingling, and joining her small, sleep-warm hand in hers carried her granddaughter and brought her to join the party of ladies that fed the household of Finwë and the princes of the Noldor.

Itarillë learned to make bread from her grandmother. She was young and charmingly solemn, then: young and sweet enough that her interest in the craft was seen as a precocious interest in maidenly duties, childish and darling.

She had no words, then, for the inchoate fear that turned her hands greedy and sparse with the flour.

In bright, blessed Valmar, they ground it from the plenty of the land: wild wheat and generous fields of oat, planted not but sowed by any idle scythe when there was a need. The Noldor, more in love with high mountains than holy plains, made sustenance from the castaway excess of the groves that grew plentiful on their land.

They dressed in thick mantles and went early to pick them up Túna's green slopes. Anairë and Indis and Lalwen, all the women of the king's house, the many noble maidens of Noldor half-dreamy still themselves, braiding their hair with ribbons as they went over grass and fern; and little Itarillë was swung between raised hands, and made to learn all the songs of their craft.

Chestnuts and almonds they picked, walnuts and hazelnuts - hazelnuts were her father's favourite, but Elenwë liked almonds best, and wore their blossoms often about her hair, when Itarillë returned from her gathering-walks with handfuls of half-crushed petals to offer her. And Irissë laughed and laughed at Turukáno's face, whenever Itarillë left more gifts of nuts in his pockets without his notice and caused him to accidentally bring them out of his courtly robes, instead of the expected quill, or a very official scroll. Little squirrel-child, she called her, and knelt down to help her count how many nuts she had found this time.

But it was Anairë who showed her how to ground them all, into meal and flour, and how to mix all parts to raise breads to be shared upon Queen Indis's table, given in friendship to the king's household and the king's people, to the princes of the Vanyar and the Teleri or any wanderer that came in for a meal.

Her hands were too small for Anairë's pestle; the hazel tree gave her some boughs, and from them Elenwë fashioned one small enough for her daughter's use. In those days, in that Blessed Land, the trees spoke slowly, with crackling leaves like fingers moving in the wind, and all of them bend their boughs whenever Itarillë found she had a whim for something to eat.

From Anairë she learned these things: for in those days the Noldor were known and praised for their generosity, and took as much pleasure as pride in it.

Elenwë died on the third year of their crossing. For the lack of her hand on the bow and on the pestle, four others died, that might have perhaps lived.

Then Itarillë was well enough to sit on a stool and make up for her absence, as long as the stumps of her legs were wrapped carefully, and she did not expend too much of herself on songs for the raising of bread.

Few maidens and ladies of the Noldor joined their hands and their skills to the choice of the Exiles. It fell to those that came to store and carry and count the barley, to renew the bread-songs from ancient times with mighty urgency. Need made them inventive; all the cleverness that had been used to create sweet confections and cunning layers of biscuits was turned into new efforts.

Itarillë would have been crammed in the warmest tents regardless, cossetted and beloved as she was near the covered ovens. But not even a princess could be left idle in the host of Nolofinwë, and there were never enough voices and hands raised up to work their rations into flat loaves.

The power of making bread was in the sharing of strength. They few who were skilled in it shared it; and when there was enough to share, they invented it, and took it out of themselves in intricate enchantments.

Itarillë set aside the last mittens her mother sewed for her, from the last creature kind-hearted, sharp-eyed Elenwë slew; she stretched her small fingers and set to work on making her mother's last meals.

From Lalwen Itarillë learned anew all the old gestures, pared down by great caution, and how to alter the rhyming of a spell to make the strength and endurance imbued in it last longer; but Lalwen learned more from her. Itarillë's paucity, which had been cheerfully teased in a king's grandchild, grew full of foresight and care.

Itarillë had an eye for future needs, and a talent for perfect measures. For all she wielded no knife or cleaver, she knew well what fed the shared fires her father's siblings tended, on those scant nights when they had meat to eat. Hers was the bread that was dipped on the stew, and eaten to the crumbs; even then, she knew what it was to be grateful to the dead for the right to walk another day through the plains of ice.

Nolofinwë, who did not eat well or much, moved by a fierce defiance that needed no coal to sustain it. Even in the dark terror of their days he praised her wisdom, and stroked with a rueful grief the neat edges of her loaves, learned at Anairë's side, as precise as hers had been.

Almonds and hazelnuts were rarer near this shore of the Great Sea, and the varieties of chestnuts varied in Beleriand, but Idril learned them all anew. In Beleriand, nothing was truly plentiful.

It was not easy, at first, to walk under fir and bush, and not cut herself scavenging.

In those days, she was chided for being greedy - it was not just or tolerable to pick too many nuts from the ground, lest the creatures of the forest suffer the lack, and grow scanter and crueller with it.

We are none of us the only creatures with hungry kin in this land, Celebrindal, said Meleth, who first greeted her people by the shores of Mithrim; and Idril, growing tall and taller under the light of the sun, too solemn and too thin, forced herself to let go of what was not her share to take from the forests. If she wept, then, none but her nurse and the forest saw it; and the trees of Beleriand did not speak as easily as those she had known in Amanyar, at least not any language she knew at the time.

They learned the language of the land well enough, and swiftly enough. Ulmo was not kind to their fishermen, but Círdan's people were generous in its stead. Turgon's followers were eager and quick as their lord was, and worked with a will to bring harvests to life.

They made their way to the sea again, there to make a new city of their own. The ovens and storing houses were raised first, on steady, defensible ground, and then everything else.

As a student to the Sindarin land-stewards that joined Turgon's people for love of the forests and secret places, Idril spent many days with her father on the pinewoods of Nevrast, walking deer tracks through mists that clung with a far more chilling damp than any that had risen over the lands bathed by Laurelin.

As their trade routes grew, so too the bones of her wrists ceased pressing so sharply against Idril's skin; even her father, who always went without if any of his people could use his share, grew strong around the shoulders again.

In Mithrim and Nevrast, the last maidens of the Noldor, scarred and frost-bitten, mingled with bakers of the Avari and the Sindar and Falathrim - learned many new recipes, made new songs as they learned new languages.

They did not let languish the habit of singing power to even the plainest flatbread. But some of them sang the old words, too, thanking Telperion and Laurelin, naming Vána and Yavanna and all the rivers that grew from Taniquentil's cold springs. Whenever she sang of Aman, Idril recalled Anairë's strong hands covered in brown flour when she repeated the same motions, turning dough and shaping it with perfect confidence, and deliberate skill.

There was time enough and plenty enough to try to replicate it. By her willingness to learn and her dedication to experiment, she added new ingredients to old recipes - pines from the great trees that grew over her new window, acorns from Ossiriand and Mithrim, pecan and pistachio from Himlad.

It was a bitter satisfaction, to be able to store up enough provisions for the journey to the place where their hidden city was to be raised; to be able to count and prepare and know for certain there would be enough coimas for all the efforts of moving and raising stone, if only barely.

Idril knew how to do this work. Meleth walked the woods with Turgon and Aredhel to say farewell and give thanks to the land; Idril stayed behind to fill the oven with new kindling, and made enough spare loaves to leave a good share of meals in Turgon's abandoned throne room. The scouts Nolofinwë sent to find them found only Nevrast abandoned, and enough to eat on their fruitless task.

Idril woke early, in Gondolin.

The sun met her many times with her shoulders taunt and her hands busy, singing over her work. It was an effort, at times, even through the Long Peace, not to let her voice and hands slip towards recipes perfected on the Ice, made to sustain strength beyond every privation more than please the mouth.

Turgon raised up a city where his wife might have been safe and joyful and free of want, with a dozen fruits to be gathered at every corner.

The people of Gondolin ate their bread dipped in honey and olives. All the Lords of the City kept their doors open, and baskets of bread under the threshold of their arched doorways, for those who passed by; and the smell of it filled the streets at dawn. When warm, it tasted of orange and apple, all the fruit grown amidst the green gloss of the leaves lining the avenues of the White City.

Anairë, Idril thought at times, would have enjoyed the sweet-bitter of it.

#idril #anaire #turgon #elenwe #silm fic #my fics #tolkien

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