tolkienfamilyweek

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Chapters: 4/8 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Narvi, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Curufin | Curufinwë, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Sons of Fëanor, Curufin | Curufinwë/Curufin’s Wife, Caranthir | Morifinwë/Haleth of the Haladin Characters: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Narvi (Tolkien), Curufin | Curufinwë, Curufin’s Wife, Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Caranthir | Morifinwë, Amrod (Tolkien), Amras (Tolkien), Haleth of the Haladin, Fëanor | Curufinwë Additional Tags: Maedhros and Maglor aren’t in this one, they’re with their kids they’re fine, afterlife jailbreak, which escalated and will eventually also be, Road Trips, Family Angst, Angst in general, curufinwean family drama, eventual happy ending i swear, there’s just a lot of Stuff to work through first, and not everybody wants to do the working through it Summary:

Narvi died, and then Celebrimbor died. While this didn’t stop them from finding a way to keep in touch, the long-distance relationship is…starting to take its toll.

Curufin is desperate to rebuild his relationship with his son after everything, but Tyelpe isn’t giving him an opening. The solution? Engineer a father-son bonding opportunity in the form of breaking the whole House of Feanor out of Mandos.

Surely nothing can go wrong with this situation…

___

New chapter just in time for @tolkienfamilyweek Day 7! 

#day seven #silmarillion #feanorians

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Unfortunately I didn’t finish the fic I was working on for the last day of @tolkienfamilyweek (life got in the way, ugh) so here’s an old doodle of Maglor and his adopted sons, his reasons to sing again.

#day seven #maglor #elrond #elros #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Day 7 - Freeform of @tolkienfamilyweek

Arien and her baby daughter Amarëa (oc) -

matching prompt

#day seven #arien #oc #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

For day 7 of @tolkienfamilyweek freeform (in which I totally am not so late for what was supposed to be day 2.)

[ implied Arien x Mairon | Arien & Amarëa (oc daughter) ]

↠ companion artwork

➼ In the sun light, find my love always.

Amarëa was still so tiny, Arien thought when she cradled her against her chest, feeling as if she was about to burst from happiness and love at the sight of her baby daughter quietly sleeping. Laurelin was in full bloom, casting the lovely golden hue over the room Arien was now occupying at Yavanna's behest.

She could stare at her newly born tiny Maia for eternity and find as much joy in it as the first time she felt the echo of her eäla take shape. This was everything she had wished and hoped for, and Arien felt crystals of tears gather at the corner of her eyes.

There was a knock on the door — sharp and precise, revealing whom stood behind it and with a brush of Osanwë, she invited him inside.

Mairon must have been back from the Forges given his appearance, a simple burgundy tunic over brown trousers and his hair braided severely along his neck.

"You know she has a cradle to sleep in." He nodded to the sublime wooden furniture he had crafted, but Arien could not bring herself to let Amarëa go.

"She needs warmth." She replied instead. Not entirely untrue, as newborn Ainu, the small Maia was unable to fully master her control over her fana. Which more than not resulted in her reverting to her spirit form — a harmless endeavour for Arien and Mairon, both fire spirits but one they had to keep on the lookout. A certain incident involving Eönwë had been a source of amusement for Mairon for weeks.

"And you need to tend to your duties."

Mairon was right. Unfortunately.

"Fine." She sighed, not bothering to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "You better not drop her."

The look Mairon gave her was a mix of annoyance and outrage but Arien had long been immune to it and with great care, gently moved her little burden, making sure Amarëa was well covered and still asleep.

"I think I'll manage."

"You better. As much as it would amuse me to see how hot I have to burn to cause physical damage to you, ô Admirable, I'd rather not have Yavanna sue me for damaging her precious golden son." Arien quipped, smirking at him when he gave her an unimpressed look.

"Just go."

"Hush." She bent to drop a light kiss on Amarëa's forehead. "I'll see you soon yēl."

A kiss was given on Mairon's cheek and with another cheery threat to the safety of his existence if anything were to happen to Amarëa, she went off to tend to Tulukhedelgorûs*.

*Valarin for Laurelin

#day seven #sauron #arien #oc #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Tolkien Family Week, Day 7: Freeform (aka Háma struggles to parent during a time of war)

If you know anything about me, you know that I am unreasonably attached to the character of Háma, who only really appears in the books for one chapter before dying a brutal death. But what a chapter! In just a few pages, he proves himself to be loyal, wise, and forward-thinking…a real Middle Earth mensch. So I had to put Háma in my @tolkienfamilyweek somewhere! My day 7 story builds a little on something I’ve previously written about Háma and the struggles of being a parent in a time of war, but you don’t have to be familiar with that to understand this. Just know that he’s married to Bryttalif, the midwife in Edoras; they have a small daughter named Hálwinë; and he’s an amazing and wonderful person.

**********

Háma looked up from his pipe to see Hálwinë standing hesitantly in the doorway, wearing her nightdress and holding the little cotton-stuffed linen horse that Bryttalif had made for her as a recent birthday gift. Her large brown eyes were rimmed with red, which Háma guessed to mean that she had been crying alone in her bedroom before coming to seek him out.

“What’s the matter, little one? Do you need something?”

“I can’t sleep,” she sniffled. “Can I sit with you?”

“Of course you can. You can keep me company while I wait for Mama to get home.” He opened his arms so that she could clamber up onto his lap, and he took a wool blanket from the basket next to him and wrapped it tightly around them both to keep out the late winter chill that leaked into the house through the drafty windows and doors. She hugged herself to his chest, and he gave her a quick kiss on the top of the head before lightly resting his chin there. “I can’t help but notice that you look sad. Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

She burrowed a little deeper into his chest and spoke without looking up, muffling her already quiet voice. “I don’t want you to go away.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had been expecting to hear about a bad dream, or how she was frightened again by the branch of the rowan tree that sometimes tapped on the glass of her windowpane when it was windy. But this was something else entirely. He wondered if it was an idle fear or if she perhaps knew more than he realized about events unfolding in the city. 

He put a hand under her chin and tipped her face up so that he could look directly into it. “Why do you think I am going away?”

“Dernifel said today that there will be a war. He said bad people are coming, and all the guards and soldiers will have to go fight them.” Her eyes filled with tears and her lip began to tremble. “And you are captain of the guards, but I don’t want you to go.”

She began to cry, and he made soothing sounds and rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back. As he did so, he silently cursed Dernifel, a mischievous little boy who lived nearby and was the youngest of five brothers. Dernifel often heard things from his siblings that he then repeated to other children with little regard for the appropriateness or accuracy of what he said. It was thanks to him that Háma had already been forced to answer fraught questions from Hálwinë about everything from where horses go when they die to why parents sometimes lock their bedroom doors. But those conversations felt easy now in comparison to the idea of explaining the possibility of war and the looming threat from Isengard that was becoming more apparent in Edoras every passing day. 

“I don’t want you to listen to Dernifel about such things,” Háma said. “He’s a silly boy who doesn’t really understand everything he says.”

She looked up tearfully and wiped an arm across her eyes. “So he is wrong?”

Háma sighed. He made it a point never to lie to Hálwinë, but neither did he want to burden her with truths that she could not possibly process. “He isn’t wrong or right. He talks as though he knows what is going to happen, but he doesn’t. No one knows that yet. So you should not believe something just because he says that it is true. Do you understand?”

She nodded and was quiet for a moment, gazing at the cheerful fire that flickered in front of them and warmed the room. But when she looked back up at him, her brow was still furrowed with concern. “If no one knows yet, then maybe you will have to go?”

He ran a hand over her hair and pushed some loose strands away from her face. “The guards will go to help other Rohirrim if they are in danger, just as soldiers from other cities would come here to help us if we needed it. But we will only go if the king cannot first find another way to protect his people, and I promise you that he will try very hard to do that. Once we know for sure what is going to happen, Mama and I will talk to you about it and answer all of your questions much better than Dernifel ever could. But in the meantime, you need not worry about something that may not ever come to pass. Can you try to do that?”

She nodded again and snuggled her head back down against his shoulder. For a time, they sat in silence, and he rocked back and forth until her sniffles slowed and eventually stopped. In the warmth of their blanket, with faint pops and crackles from the fireplace and the dark, woody smell of his pipe tobacco, she finally drifted off to sleep, and he carried her back to her room, tucked her into bed, and kissed her forehead.

He went back to his chair and picked up his pipe again, puffing away absently as he imagined what it would be like to ride out with his men, leaving Hálwinë and Bryttalif behind. He had been away from them before, of course, but never for long stretches at a time and never for anything like the battles he was increasingly sure were coming. He was still contemplating these unhappy thoughts when a gust of frigid air swept through the room, and Bryttalif hustled inside, shaking a light dusting of snow from her cloak. She turned to shut the door against the wind and then leaned back against it, a tired smile on her face. 

“If spring does not arrive soon, I may never feel my toes again!”

His heart was immediately lifted. It wasn’t in his nature to brood, and the sight of her smiling face was all that he needed to regain his typical amiability. He patted the seat next to him and held up the wool blanket. “It is plenty warm over here if you’d like to join me.”

She dropped her cloak by the door and lightly kissed his cheek before arranging herself comfortably under the blanket at his side. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said. “You’ve been working too hard lately. Did everything go smoothly?”

She leaned back and stretched her frozen toes toward the fire. “It did. There is no greater gift for a midwife than a quick delivery, and this baby was in quite a hurry. And since he obligingly showed up so promptly and without incident, I can get a good night’s sleep and have breakfast with Hálwinë for the first time all week. How is she?”

He hummed an uncertain noise. “She’s alright now, but she has been hearing things from the other children. About Isengard and the likelihood of war. We’re going to need to talk to her more fully about it soon. It will not be long before we will have no choice in the matter.”

She sighed and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I hate this. How can I explain things to a child that I do not understand myself? Why should Saruman want to hurt us? What benefit does he get from threatening Rohan, his friend and neighbor for so many years? The world has become a frightening and confusing place, and I have no comforting words to make sense of any of it.”

“Some things will never make sense, but we just do the best we can to muddle through. And we take our happiness where we can find it.” He reached a hand out and rested it on her belly, which grew rounder each day. They had known she was expecting a baby for weeks, but it had only recently become visible to him and the sight never failed to stir his soul.

She covered his hand with her own and sat quietly for a moment before turning her face to him. “Háma, are we crazy for bringing another baby into the world just when everything is skewing off course? What kind of future will this child have when all around us things are falling to pieces?”

The look on her face broke his heart. But though he understood why she would ask such a question, there was no doubt in his mind about what they were doing. He kissed the tip of her nose. 

“We are not crazy. We are just people. What are we supposed to do, stop living? Because our way of life is under threat, we should voluntarily give up the very things that make that life worth protecting? I don’t believe that. No matter what else is happening in the world, this baby will have a loving family, and that is the start to a good future.”

She drew her feet up under the blanket and leaned more of her weight against him. “I admire your optimism,” she murmured. “And I certainly hope that you are proven right.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in to rest against his chest, and they sat together in silence, watching the fire crackle and glow. After a few minutes, he heard her breathing become slower and deeper, and when he looked down he saw that her eyes were closed, her long dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. He carefully extricated himself from underneath her, then gathered her up in his arms and carried her to their room. He lay her in their bed, put a quilt over top of her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. 

We’ll be alright,” he whispered. “You’ll see.”

#day seven #hama #lord of the rings

[tolkienfamilyweek]

our tracks untraceable

For @tolkienfamilyweek Day 6: Ancestors and their legacy

All quoted lyrics from "Sons and Daughters" by The Decemberists

---

"When we arrive, sons and daughters," Elros sings under his breath, "we'll make our homes on the water…"

He nearly bumps into Maedhros, who has halted in front of him as they and Elrond and Maglor make their way through the woods. It takes a moment for Maedhros to speak. "Where did you learn that song?" he asks, a little hoarsely.

Elros, confused, says, "Nana sang it to us sometimes…before."

"Ada sang it sometimes, too," Elrond adds. "But the version he knew was in Quenya."

"That makes sense," Maglor says, sounding puzzled. "If it had been passed down through Fingolfin and Turgon… But how would Elwing have known it?"

"She said it was an old family song," Elrond says, just as confused.

"We'll build our walls aluminum, we'll fill our mouths with cinnamon," Elwing sings. Music is supposed to be a gift of her family, but she can barely manage this song, words promising a safe and bountiful home, when what they have is this ramshackle haven at the edge of the world.

"These currents pull us 'cross the border," a deeper voice joins in from the doorway. "Steady your boats, arms to shoulder…"

Eärendil enters the twins' room, coming up behind her to slide an arm around her shoulders. "It's a good song," he says quietly, and looks at the babies sleeping in their clumsy bassinet. "Full of hope. They're going to need that."

Then, "I didn't know the Sindar knew that song, though. I thought it was only my family."

Elwing shakes her head. "No, I remember my father singing it…I think."

"Take up your arms, sons and daughter," Dior sings, "we will arise from the bunkers…"

He makes sure to sing quietly, not letting his clear tenor carry. These lands are no longer as safe as they were in his own childhood. But he wants to still make this trip as cheerful for his children as possible, under the circumstances.

The circumstances being his grandfather's violent death, and Dior's taking up the kingship.

"Is that one of your Nana's songs?" Elwing asks sleepily. He's carrying her, while the twins walk with Nimloth.

He holds her a little closer. "She did sing it to me, just like this," he says. "And someone else sang it to her before that. All the best songs are like that."

"By land, by sea, by dirigible, we'll leave our tracks untraceable now," Lúthien sings playfully, dancing her small son around to the tune and the silly words. It's a good day. Almost every day is a good day on Tol Galen. She has her husband and her son; what more could she want?

"Nana?" Dior interrupts, nose wrinkled, "what's a dirigible?"

Lúthien frowns. "You know, I don't actually know, ion-nin."

"But you know everything. Ada says so."

"Well, that's very sweet of him, but he's not quite right," Lúthien says, tapping his nose affectionately. "It's probably just a made up word. But why don't you ask your grandfather next time you see him? He's the one who taught me the song, so if anyone would know, he would."

"When we arrive, sons and daughters," Thingol sings under his breath, "we'll make our lives on the water…"

"What's that song about, Ada?" Lúthien pipes up from where she's skipping at his side. "It's silly. We don't live anywhere near the Sea."

Thingol pauses a moment. He hadn't meant to sing for her to listen to, exactly - it just tends to come out of him wherever he walks a noticeable distance, as they have been this afternoon. But there's no harm in telling her. He just hasn't talked about it much since meeting Melian.

"It's a song from the Journey," he says at length. "Before I met your mother, I and my brother and our people were traveling west to go over the Sea. We sang the song then about what we would find at the end."

"Your brother who went on without you?" Lúthien says inquisitively. She's been going through a phase of being curious about other people's siblings, since she has none of her own. At Thingol's nod of confirmation, she asks, "Do you still miss him?"

His throat suddenly feels thick. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Did he make up the song?"

"…No." Thingol shakes his head slowly. "It was a…a friend of mine."

"We'll build our walls aluminum, we'll fill our mouths with cinnamon…"

"Finwë, what in Arda is that song about?"

Finwë turns and spots his friend Elwë, and grins broadly. "It's to keep our people's spirits up as we travel," he explains. "To take their minds off the hardships of the journey and give them an idea of what awaits us."

Elwë appears to consider this for a moment. "That is all very well," he says, "but why would anyone want to fill their mouth with cinnamon? It is far too strong for such a thing, not to mention the waste."

"Of course it's ridiculous," Finwë agrees readily. "That's the point. There will be so much in Aman, and it will be so safe. It won't matter if we waste things every now and then, or use ridiculous building materials."

Elwë humphs. But he also, a few moments later, says, "Can you teach me the rest of it?"

Finwë can, and does, and soon enough the song rings through the wilderness as both Noldor and Teleri sing in chorus.

"When we arrive, sons and daughters…" Atya sings, and then trails off. Fëanáro frowns up at him, not understanding why his father has slowed and is no longer swinging their clasped hands to and fro, why he looks so troubled.

"Atya?" he asks. "What's the matter?"

For a long moment, Atya looks very far away. Then he shakes himself slightly, and looks down at Fëanáro with a smile.

"Nothing to worry about, yonya," he says. "I was just thinking that the song doesn't quite fit us, is all."

Well, of course it doesn't. Fëanáro doesn't have any brothers or sisters; he's Finwë's only son. But that's fine, and the song isn't supposed to be about them anyway - it's about the Great Journey.

"Does it need to?" he says. "We can make up a different one if we need one about us."

That makes Atya smile properly at last. "Maybe so, Náro. Maybe so. But we should find a spot for our picnic first."

"Till tides all pull our hull aground, making this cold harbor now home…"

Makalaurë frowns as his father sings under his breath. The song is familiar, but the tone doesn't seem to match it - it's meant to be a happy, excited song, but Atar's making it sound angry and vindictive.

That's pretty much been Atar's sole mood ever since the banishment was announced.

"There!" Atar calls out suddenly, breaking off the song and gesturing up ahead. "That is where we shall build our fortress, the envy of all in Tirion. Curufinwë, with me!"

He sounds more enthusiastic and less bitter than he has in weeks. Perhaps, Makalaurë dares to think as Atar and Curvo ride ahead, this can be a turning point for the better, for all of them.

"It's strange that your family would know the song, too," Elros ventures. Elrond knows what he means. They were told for the first six years of their lives that the Fëanorians were monsters, wholly other than them. This odd little point of commonality contrasts sharply with that.

He doesn't want to think too long on that right now, doesn't want to let it pull up all the complicated things between them.

Instead he says, "Perhaps since we do all know it, we can sing it together."

Maedhros looks hesitant. But Maglor, after a moment's hesitation, gives a small nod. "How does it go again? It has been years…we may not remember all of it."

"That's all right, it repeats a lot," Elros shrugs. "Here, I'll start--"

And they continue on through the woods, singing quietly so as not to attract unfriendly attention, but all in tune together.

"Hear all the bombs fade away, hear all the bombs fade away, hear all the bombs fade away…"

#day six #silmarillion #elros #elrond #maedhros #maglor #elwing #earendil #dior #luthien #thingol #finwe #feanor

[tolkienfamilyweek]

The Fading Light

Prompt: Parent-child relationship for @tolkienfamilyweek

Summary: It was the same longing that her father felt and that drew them closer together than any of her siblings. Only Sam could understood that strange, terrible yearning that burned in her heart each time he read from the Red Book to her and her siblings.

When she looked at her father again, she found that his gaze had turned distant, and he looked not unlike Arwen and her brothers, touched with some grief Elanor could not understand.

In which Elanor comes to understand grief and partings beyond the ends of the world.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: Elanor breathed deeply of the clear night air. It smelled of pine and wood smoke, for though it was spring, it was cooler here in the north than in the Shire, and in the evening fires still burned in the hearths. She sat with her father on the back porch of the guest house the king had prepared for their family. The porch overlooked the twilit waters of Lake Evendim, and a short path ran from the porch to the sandy shore, where the waters of the lake lapped softly. Her siblings had been sent to bed despite many protestations, but Elanor, as the eldest, had been permitted to stay up later than usual, for which she was grateful. Evenings after the younger ones went to bed were the only time she could spend alone with her father, without Frodo and Rose and all the others clamoring for his attention. “Well, Elanorellë, you have seen three Elves now,” her father said, breaking the silence. “What do you think of them?” He lit his pipe and sat back against the porch steps. Elanor thought for a moment, recalling the grace and beauty of the queen and the wisdom and nobility of her brothers, and how their gazes had held the knowledge of centuries and yet their laughter was as merry as children’s.

Read the rest on AO3.

#day one #samwise gamgee #elanor gardner #lotr

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Parting in the Dark (My fanfic)

@tolkienfamilyweek “Perhaps you’ll stay after all?” “My love, this question is useless. Forgive if you can.” They hugged in the darkness. They felt so strange without the light of the Trees. The stars looked at their farewell. Anaire felt that she lacked light, lacked strength. It seemed like there wasn't even enough air. And is it worth breathing?

How she hated her husband at that moment! His damned sense of duty, his willingness to go into the unknown, his determination to go to the end. And how she loved him! She loved, despite the fact that her life at those moments was flying somewhere under the feet of Morgoth, into the ominous darkness woven by Ungoliant… The city was bustling in preparations and was choking in women's tears. She tried her best not to cry.

“I’ll go with you.” “No, melda. From our first conversation, I felt: you are not ready. And I’ll feel best if you stay.” “Are we just going to break up like that?” “Understand, I’m not going for new lands. I'm going to war. I’m going at least so that the Enemy doesn’t come here. In the coming battles with Morgoth you are no warrior."

Well, it's her own fault. It was she who said at the first moment that she wanted to stay with her friend. She also said that the unknown scares her.

Anaire felt that Nolofinwe was right. When he trained with their children, she did not have the slightest interest in this activity. She understood that in war she would only be a burden.

She was upset that she could not persuade any of the children to stay. Most of all, of course, she begged Irisse to stay. But the daughter was even more determined than her brothers.

Thus hatred fought with love in Anaire’s heart. But she thought that it was impossible to send off her husband on a long journey with reproaches. Barely holding back a cry, she said: “Come back!”

She added in a half whisper:

“Come back alive. My candle will always burn for you."

“Keep hope alive. Even a single ray of light can destroy darkness,” Nolofinwe replied, breaking away from her embrace. Illuminated by the stars, he took his first steps into the surrounding darkness. And she was left in the darkness with a single ray of hope.

#fingolfin #anaire #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

(Fanfic) After the threat

@tolkienfamilyweek The news spread quickly throughout Tirion. Anaire already had a rough idea of what happened in the palace of King Finwe. She was working in the garden with her youngest son when Findekano and Turukano arrived. Findekano was having a difficult conversation with his older cousin. Turukano gave details of the aborted Council, adding that Nolofinwe went to his younger brother.

“Almost killed”… It sounded wild in peaceful Aman. It’s like something from the old days, when the Quendi lived in distant Endor. Anaire could not find a place for herself.

The hour of the Mixing of Light had passed when she finally heard the creak of the gate. Nolofinwe has arrived. He was calm, as if nothing had happened, and smiled…

- Darling! - she literally hung on him, not wanting to let go. It didn't escape her gaze that his tunic was slit in the heart area.

“It’s okay, melda, don’t worry,” he took his wife in his arms. So they stood, enveloped in the soft silver light of Telperion. Blue flowers looked at them with their kind eyes.

Anaire felt that someone’s overly fiery, unkind gaze was watching them from behind the fence. The glance flashed and disappeared. Did her imagine it or not? It doesn't matter now. The only important thing is that she and her husband are together; this state is akin to flying. All fears disappeared for a while. She always felt this, being in the power of the strong hands of her husband.

Then she excitedly kissed the cut on his chest. At his younger brother’s house they had already smeared him with some medicine. The elf felt bitterness on her lips, not yet knowing that this was the taste of future changes.

“It’s okay,” Nolofinwe said, “I will do everything I can to protect you, the children, our people.”

This is where he let it slip. “I’ll do my best,” it turns out, even he is not completely confident. Only from such small details, random slips, did she guess the feelings he was hiding.

“I am summoned to the court of the Valar,” Nolofinwe said a few days later. Anaire's heart sank: what will happen now? That’s how she felt: the story of the failed Council would not end just like that. Almost all of Tirion was ready to testify in favor of Nolofinwe. He, however, did not want to escalate the conflict. He said that only those ordered to appear. Anaire wished to go with her husband. Indis joined them: she said that she had not seen Ingwe for a long time. “My dear ones, we will travel together, but I ask you not to attend the trial,” he said. She nevertheless begged permission to be at the trial - she wanted to support him at least morally, with her presence alone.

- Don't worry. They won't imprison me in Mandos forever. Even Melkor came out and is sowing confusion,” Nolofinwe grinned. …They rode with him together on a white horse. At the trial, Nolofinwe behaved with dignity and did not testify against his brother. And when he declared his readiness to forgive Feanaro, Telperion and Laurelin flashed with an unusual, unprecedentedly soft pearl light. It was as if the Trees rejoiced at his words and illuminated his hair so beautifully.

…When they were driving back, Nolofinwe was saddened - he did not want his brother to be convicted. And soon Finwe also left for his eldest son. Nolofinwe bore the brunt of responsibility for the Noldor. He was constantly busy, and his wife almost stopped seeing him, as well as her sons who helped him. Irisse missed hunting with her cousins. Nolofinwe refused security. He asked Anaire not to go alone outside the city. And she loved to walk by the sea so much! He tried to find time and give her such walks. But his wife saw how tired he was and said that she did not want to go to the sea. He felt that this was not so, and asked Arafinwe and his wife, who often walked along the shore, to take her with them sometimes. During this period, Anaire became close friends with Earwen. Everything should have ended not even in twelve years, but earlier. Nolofinwe was again summoned to Manwe. Was hoped that the conflict would be forgotten. But instead of ending the troubles, that dark day brought a huge tragedy.

#fingolfin #anaire #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Day Seven: Freeform

Did we forget about something or is there a prompt you want to revisit? Feel free to use this day for any family related content!

Don't forget to tag us @tolkienfamilyweek and tag #tolkienfamilyweek so we can find your post! You can find the announcement post with all the necessary information and prompts here. We are looking forward to your creations!

#tolkienfamilyweek #tolkien #tfw2023 #day seven

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Tolkien Family Week, Day 6: Ancestors (aka Théoden’s father returns from exile)

Day 6 of @tolkienfamilyweek and we’re back to Rohan again! The inspiration for my ancestors post is from the Appendix A description of the kings of the Mark, where we get a few short sentences about how Fengel (Théoden’s grandfather) was a jerk who was always beefing with both his marshals and his own family, and Thengel (Théoden’s dad) moved to Gondor to serve their steward as soon as he became an adult. When Fengel died, Thengel returned to Rohan “unwillingly” but eventually became a good king. That’s basically all it says. So I spent a little time thinking about Thengel and how that might have all gone down.

**********

Thengel wasn’t sure exactly when he had stopped thinking of himself as a Rohirrim. He couldn’t trace it to a single, specific event. Not when he had fled from the rule of his feckless, greedy father. Not when he had caught his first awed glimpse of the majesty of Minas Tirith. Not when he established himself as a capable soldier, or when his years in Gondor had begun to outnumber those in Rohan. Instead, it happened gradually and almost beneath his notice. Somehow without realizing it, he simply became a Gondorian, speaking their language, married to one of their women, and in service to their steward.

In truth, he was happy to put Rohan behind him. With the distance of time, the land of his birth had faded in his mind to a bunch of bleak plains and harsh mountains populated by rustic herdsmen and farmers. There was nothing in Rohan that could compare to the marble and stone wonders of the White City, to Gondor’s vast libraries and lore halls, or to the sophisticated influence of the prosperous tradesmen, artisans and travelers who streamed in and out of Minas Tirith. And above all, Gondor was not tainted for Thengel by fear and painful memories. It offered him an opportunity to live freely, out from under Fengel’s pernicious thumb. 

But Thengel could never truly escape his father, and Fengel now once again threatened to upend his hard won happiness. Many years and many miles had insulated him from his father’s ridicule, his contempt, and his vicious temper, but they couldn’t insulate him from Fengel’s death. And so Thengel, heir in exile, found himself one day expected to give up his good life in Minas Tirith to return to Edoras and rule a land that no longer had any claim on his heart. 

He had already twice refused the summons, determined to stay in Minas Tirith and continue on the path he had laid for himself. But the third summons was delivered not to him, but to Turgon, steward of Gondor. His refusal was no longer a private matter, and Turgon promptly summoned Thengel to appear before him. 

They met in the great hall, with Turgon seated in the black stone chair of the stewards. Thengel had taken counsel with Turgon many times before, almost always in the comfort of a small office or at a table with food and drink. He did not doubt that this choice of location, with the empty throne of Gondor just over Turgon’s right shoulder, was meant to convey Turgon’s feelings just as clearly as his words. To break a line of kings was a matter of the utmost seriousness.

They debated for nearly an hour, but Thengel knew early that he had lost the argument. Duty, honor and self-sacrifice were sacred to Turgon, and he would never agree that those obligations should be yielded simply for personal contentment. He was firm, though not unkind, in his insistence that Thengel return to Rohan, however unwillingly, and fulfill his commitment to his people, who had already suffered so much at Fengel’s hands. 

When they parted at last, Thengel bowed deeply before the steward. “It will always be painful to me that I could not stay here to help you face the evil that has now declared itself openly in Mordor again. You are beset on all sides by dangers. Ithilien will soon be lost. To leave now feels like abandoning you at your time of greatest need.”

Turgon raised Thengel back up and put a strong hand on his shoulder. “If I am beset on all sides, then let there be at least one direction in which I can look and find a friend. If you cannot recover your love of Rohan, at least restore the dignity and pride of its people. It does not help Gondor for its closest ally to be weakened and diminished. Renew its strength, and teach Théoden how to maintain it so that your efforts will outlive you. The time will come when we will need each other again, and a Rohan that is alive in its glory will be to the benefit of all of Middle Earth.”

Thengel sent word of his acceptance to Edoras and began his preparations to leave Minas Tirith, perhaps never to return. He decided to ride out in a small company, leaving Morwen and the children to follow only after he could assess the conditions at Meduseld. The departure was bitter for him, and as he made his way along the Great West Road, with Minas Tirith growing ever smaller in the distance, he wept more than a few wretched tears.

The long road ran steadily through the open farmlands of Anórien and eventually led into the Firien Wood, where it narrowed as it snaked through ancient trees and thick undergrowth. The company spread out into single file, and Thengel rode at the front of the line, putting some distance between himself and the casual chatter of his companions so that he could be on his own with his dark thoughts.

At last, he crested the small rise by which the road crossed the Mering Stream, and he emerged alone from the wood into the Eastfold for the first time in many years.  Endless grasslands stretched out before him, shifting from green to gold and back again as the wind rippled through the fields. In the distance, the Entwash flowed on its way to meet the Anduin, glittering in the sun like a curving line of liquid flame. And above everything were boundless blue skies, wider and clearer than any he remembered. Something stirred in his blood, as undeniable as it was unexpected. A feeling long suppressed, gone dormant from disuse, but now awakened again by the mere sight of this land.

He leaned forward in the saddle, shortened his reins and nudged his heels into Lightfoot’s sides. Together they galloped out into the plains, the cold wind in their faces and the soft grass rolling by smoothly under their feet, and he felt a surprising calmness overtake him. Each stride brought him closer to Edoras and to Meduseld, to the destiny that he had long sought to avoid. But it also brought him a feeling of familiarity. Of comfort. Of understanding. For the first time since he heard of Fengel’s death, Thengel allowed himself now a small hope. Hope that he was doing the right thing, for himself and for his children. Hope that he could find contentment for himself again. Hope that he was home once more.

#day six #thengel #lord of the rings

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Tolkien Family Week #6

For the @tolkienfamilyweek prompt 6 (ancestors and legacy), have 100 words of Elladan still not happy being himself. For more of this sort of Elrondion angst, see my fics Transmutation and Until the World is Broken and Remade.

As Elros did, Elladan finds the feathers a nuisance. He sprouts bristles and down at moments of stress; folds a whole wing open when overwhelmed by the urge to escape the Valley (but never two, never quite enough to truly fly). Arwen soothes and plucks him when he gripes; Elrohir laughs and flaps and makes it worse. Elrond admits to envy, to his own fine pinfeathers, to a longing for the high air and the bright sky and the freedom of flight. But only Celebrían sees his pain’s true origin, and understands his secret wish to be a Man.

#day six #elladan #elrohir #arwen #celebrian #elrond #lord of the rings #silmarillion

[tolkienfamilyweek]

@tolkienfamilyweek Day 6: Ancestors and their Legacy

Valandil, third king of Arnor, and his mother hear the terrible news

Valandil was never supposed to be a king, but like his father and grandfather, is thrown into this new fate by tragedy. And as he grieves, he wonders: how he will carry forth the legacy of the great kings from across the sea? How can he honor his father? What does the future hold for his line?

#day six #valandil #unfinished tales

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Is this OC friendly?

Yes of course! OCs are just as welcome as canon characters!

#asks

[tolkienfamilyweek]

The First

Pairing = none (hints of Imin x Iminyë)

Genre = General audiences

General ratings = fluff & a twinge of angst

Content warnings = none

Word count = 832

Notes = amma means ‘mother’ in Primitive Elvish. Hope you enjoy! This is for day five of @tolkienfamilyweek, ‘found family’!

Nendarnē remembered.

She remembered waking up for the first time.

She was confused at first, of course. Before walking on two legs, she crawled on all fours. She looked at foxes, raccoons, rabbits and wolves to learn.

She remembered drinking and eating for the first time.

She remembered exploring, sleeping and running for the first time.

She remembered seeing her reflection for the first time and being fascinated by her features.

She remembered stumbling upon other elves and being terrified, as well as curious.

She remembered slowly starting to take care of them, taking them to safe places while they slept (they always slept. Nendarnē found it weird, because they weren’t gone like sometimes animals were. They’d fall asleep and never wake up again. But then again, their chest wouldn’t go up and down while they breathed. The Asleep Ones breathed. So Nendarnē found it weird.)

She remembered feeling cold for the first time and hating it.

She remembered hunting for the first time and eating the meat raw, much to her stomach’s displeasure and keeping the animal’s pelt because she felt guilty (surely her stomach making her suffer was proof that she should not have done that.)

She remembered going back to the lake she awoke next to, to stand in the water and look at the fishes and trees.

She remembered hunting again and always keeping the pelts of the animals out of guilt.

She remembered one day putting those pelts together rudimentarily with thick grass blades and other things, to create the first garment ever (she kept it even after it fell apart. She kept it for all of her life.)

She remembered putting animal pelts on The Asleep Ones so that they were not cold.

She remembered trying to communicate with animals by mimicking their noises.

She remembered crying for the first time when she injured her calf and being surprised that her eyes were producing water.

She remembered growing and developing, while The Asleep Ones stayed put, showing no sign of ever waking up.

She remembered yelping when some of The Asleep Ones woke up. She remembered them being confused and afraid, just like she had been.

She remembered calming them down and cooing at them, petting their hair and caressing their backs.

She remembered how she taught them everything she knew.

She remembered how they developed a language to understand each other better, thus creating Primitive Elvish.

She remembered naming them; Imin, Iminyë, Tata, Tatië, Enel and Elenyë.

She remembered treating them like her cubs.

She remembered being astonished that they were so.. small (at the time she didn’t know it was just her that was abnormally tall, but, well.)

She remembered how later on, they gave her a name, even though they referred to her as amma.

And so, Nendarnē Indarā was named. Her cubs- children, named her after the time she spent close to the tree by the water she awoke next to. Indarā, The Wise, they called her, even if she didn’t particularly think she deserved such a title. Sure, she had taught them how to survive and live, but she didn’t consider herself wise.

She remembered how more and more of The Asleep Ones woke up, until not one of them was sleeping anymore.

She remembered the first mating season, where couples formed and fëas entwined for the first time.

She remembered politely refusing every mating offer she received, for she had everything she needed : her children.

She remembered Iminyë’s stomach getting rounder.

She remembered Iminyë coming to her, tears in her eyes, asking her amma what was going on.

She remembered shushing her heart-daughter, telling her that she was with child, that that was what happened sometimes when a male and a female mated. That she would have her own cubs, her own children soon.

She remembered the gruesome birth of the first elven child, the pain Iminyë was in as everyone did everything they could to make her comfortable.

She remembered holding her grandson for the first time, Ilion, and crying from joy, pressing a kiss to Iminyë’s forehead.

She remembered meeting Míriel and Finwë and practically adopting them as her own, taking care of them.

She remembered more children coming; Elwë, Olwë and Elmo, principally.

She remembered the apparition of Oromë.

She remembered everything he taught.

She remembered the fear that struck her when some of her own began to disappear and never come back.

She remembered hugging her heart-children close when the Dark Rider came closer and closer to where they lived.

She remembered that she thought she was dying with how her heart ached when some of her children left.

She remembered kissing them goodbye as they followed Oromë.

She remembered the heartache that would not leave her alone as one by one, her children- her cubs, left her.

She remembered being obligated to leave her tree, the water she grew by, her home, because The All Father was angry.

Nendarnē remembered, for she was The First.

End notes : Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are as always really appreciated!

#day five #the silmarillion #tata #tatië #imin #iminyë #enel #elenyë #finwe #míriel #orome #oc

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Day Six: Ancestors and their Legacy

Every family has its roots somewhere. On this day we look back to where the great families in Tolkien's works came from and what those ancestors left behind for their descendants.

Don't forget to tag us @tolkienfamilyweek and tag #tolkienfamilyweek so we can find your post! You can find the announcement post with all the necessary information and prompts here. We are looking forward to your creations!

#tolkienfamilyweek #day six #tfw2023 #tolkien

[tolkienfamilyweek]

Family

Rating: G

Pairing: Gen, Erestor & Nimriel(OC)

In which Erestor realises he is loved, and also sort of acquires a family member.

A little double-drabble for @tolkienfamilyweek, this time even on theme (if only barely so), as this is found family.

#day five #erestor #oc #lord of the rings