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feanor also has the brown dad trait of would rather let himself get turned to fucking ash than admit hes wrong and also will assume the rest of his children would go along with he says and be forced to fight for his will for literal years- im just saying the scene after feanor accidentally burns amrod alive and no one says anything or WANTED TO say anything is a canon experience
When I say I cackled-
Actual truth right here. All of it.
Then there’s also split in the kids of those who take things super seriously and the ones who just want to get this stupid thing over with as soon as. Usually with the eldest son going overboard 💀
I love seeing Silmarillian discourse. None of this means anything to me. What do you mean people are trying to justify/soften an act referred to as a KINSLAYING. what do you mean THE FIRST TWO.
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when you’re rúmil of tirion and the tiny prince of the noldor keeps barging into your house to Yell About Orthography so finally you give up and make him some tea
". . .Lúthien was the most beautiful of all the Children of Ilúvatar. Blue was her raiment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sewn with golden flowers, but her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight."
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Of Beren and Lúthien"
"Then Dior arose, and about his neck he clasped the Nauglamir, and now he appeared as the fairest of all the children of the world, of threefold race: of the Edain, and of the Eldar, and of the Maiar of the Blessed Realm."
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Of the Ruin of Doriath"
"For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved."
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath"
@halfelvenweek day 1 ⇢ doriathrim || THE LINE OF LÚTHIEN
[ID: a picspam comprised of 18 images, separated into three sets. The first set is purple, the second is green, and the third is brown. All have black accenting.
1: A branch of white and purple blossoms / 2: Valentine Alvarez, an indigenous mexican model with brown skin and long black hair. They are looking at the viewer with a serious expression, wearing dangling earrings that reach their shoulders and a purple shirt / 3: Purple crystals / 4: Tall dark and light purple text reads "lúthien" in all caps on a black background / 5: A small bird perched on a rock. It is silhouetted against the dark sky and its head is framed by a circle of purple light / 6: A night sky filled with stars and glowing dust, framed by tree branches / 7: Philip Bread, a kiowa/comanche/blackfoot model with brown skin and long black hair. He is shown slightly from below against a green background, looking at the viewer with a serious expression / 8: Green light filtering into a cave / 9: Same format as Image 4, but the text is green and reads "dior" / 10: A spiderweb among mossy rocks, glistening with dew / 11: A painting of a person dressed in elaborate green robes / 12: The figure of a person silhouetted beneath a spotlight / 13: The mist of a waterfall falling among brown rocks / 14: Zentyatze Echeverria, a oaxacan model with brown skin and dark hair. She is a white dress and a large wreath of corn husks, and looking down / 15: Two brown pelicans on water / 16: Same format as Images 4 and 9, but the text is brown and reads "elwing" / 17: A black and white image of a person underwater / 18: An ornate room with columns and wall tiling //End ID]
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Re-reading the Silmarillion and I don't know how I missed the bit about the light of the two trees mingling during Fëanor and Fingolfin's reconciliation. Had to rough this up to get it out of my head
#BASHING MY HEAD AGAINDT THR SCREEN UHHGFDFFFFFFFFFFF#AND JUST THE WAY FEANOR IS UNDER LAURELIN AND FINGOLFIN UNDER TELPERION. THE COLOURS THE SYMBOLISM#THE WAY TILION FOLLOWS ARIEN ACROSS THE SKY BUT GETS SCORCHED IF HE GETS TOO CLOSE
i saw your edrahil art (gorgeous!) and that youre taking suggestions for silm art. soooo on the subject of finrod sidekicks, i wondered if youd ever draw beor? i think about beor x finrod constantly after reading the atandil series and love seeing all the different ways hes depicted in fandom. no worries if hes not in your interest! thanks for sharing all your silm art its so beautifu!
Ahh! thank you, thank you for such a nice compliment, yes! from time to time I think about Finrod and Beor, you know Finrod is so easy to love :,) and even more so if it's an elf/human tragedy, I just think about Finrod seeing how all his human friends leave so quickly and it never stops hurting (sorry, I'm going to cry a bit here)…
yes I also thought about Beorn that is not the same as Beor ha-ha
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I wish you would write more celegorm/curufin. A Salve was sooo good. Thank you for sharing it. You're a great writer!!
Aw thanks Anon! That's very flattering. I wish I would write more C/C also.
But! Your ask reminded me that I did start something about them at Mithrim (my favourite setting for inadvisable incest), for SilmSmutWeek and upon looking it up I don't dislike it as much as I thought I did. So have a little pre-slash Tyelcurvo being their treacherous selves.
~ ~ ~
Once inspected, Curufin sheathes each blade as though its point could silence the chorus of his brother’s cruelty.
Father is dead, Curvo. Scrape. His boldness was rewarded with death. Clunk. So tell me not what our father would have done. Scrape. He is not here. And I am your King. Clunk.
It was not always so between them. Once, Curufin believed Maglor a worthy ruler, and not merely out of respect for the line of succession. Curufin knew how his brother could enthrall an audience; how his voice could soften hearts as readily as it could stir them to violence. Once, Curufin even assessed Maglor more fit to rule than their dissident eldest brother. An observation, only: it was not for Curufin to deal out judgement, especially of one who now suffered death or torment (which, they did not know) for his choices.
Curufin beat that particular thought down into forgetfulness. He is not so cold as that.
Cold and ambitious: these are two of Maglor’s preferred words with which to spear him. Not across the council table, no—there Maglor is all poise, all accord, professing that he would have all of Fëanor's sons rule in concert. Cold and ambitious are words breathed in the shadowed bends of winding stairwells.
And I am your King.
Very well: then act as one.
Curufin hisses, flinches. He has gripped the sheath in his left hand too tightly, thrust its blade off-course. His blood blooms a straight red line across his palm. Like an animal he slaps it against his mouth to suck at the wound.
“Careful. Those are sharp.”
Sardonic, laughter teasing along its rough edges. Curufin need not look to know the voice.
“Fuck you, Turco,” he says, turning despite himself because such is the power that Celegorm has over him. Curufin hates it.
The laughter trickles out from between smirking lips. Celegorm unfolds the knot of his arms across his chest and springs from the door frame on which he leans. Curufin’s gut twists with the knowledge of having been watched. Too late, he throws up shields against his brother’s intrusion and stiffens as Celegorm approaches.
Blood seeps from his neglected wound, curling a path between his fingers.
With a glance down, Celegorm asks, “Are you going to tend to that?” He is already pulling a length of cloth from the satchel at his waist. He spits on it.
On impulse, Curufin whips his hand out of his brother’s reach and back to his mouth. “Out with it,” he sneers around his bleeding palm. “What do you want?” Thinned and quickened by defensive anger, Curufin’s blood keeps flowing. He curses between clenched teeth.
“At least sit down,” Celegorm says.
Eyes burning, Curufin snatches the cloth from his brother’s hand and takes it to a chair in the corner of the armoury.
“You do not deserve his scorn,” Celegorm says, when Curufin has finished wrapping his wound.
“But he does rule us. And undermining his rightful authority only sinks us deeper into inaction.” Curufin squares his shoulders and sets his hands on his knees. “Why were you not at the council?”
Celegorm shrugs. “I judged there were better uses of my time. Was I wrong?”
... and that's where it abruptly ends. Perhaps to be revived, one day!
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