I just really love sauron ok

Okay, so maybe the film guide says he was born in TA 87, but looking at clues from HOME and the Silmariilion, he’s at the very most a bit over 2000 years old at time of The Fellowship of the Ring. He’s the youngest elf that we know about in that time period. ARWEN is older than him. He’s creeped out by Fangorn being so old but he calls all mortals children because he’s a little shit.

Tolkien would get super pissed off when Legolas was shown in illustrations as “pretty or lady-like” and insisted that he was the biggest, roughest, toughest of the elves and the most hardcore of the Fellowship. Legolas is like the freaking Schwarzenegger of the elves, nbd.

Best friend is a dwarf whose father was literally imprisoned by Legolas’ father and yet he still brought him to the Undying Lands for the most awkward family reunion because screw you Thranduil. And let me remind you that a) Gimli is the only, only dwarf who got to make the trip and Legolas invited him. Other people had to get permission from like the literal Valar and Legolas was like I want to bring my mortal bff yeah he wasn’t a ringbearer but whatevs. Also b) most of the people who left in TA 3201 went on like these fleets of beautiful vessels with a master shipbuilder but Legolas was like nope, going to build one myself, never built one before but it can’t be that hard, right?

While Sindarin is the most common Elvish language by the time Legolas is alive, it’s considered really ugly and and unrefined, but here Legolas is running around probably not even able to speak the language of his ancestors, and I imagine him super proud of what must sound like an awful accent to his people.

Also super explains how useless he was at Moira trying to decipher the door because he doesn’t have time to deal with those snobs.

They buried the child next to his parents, then Maedhros was left to ponder the still, crying creature he now had in his care. There were mental wounds too deep for their own healers to care for, and he doubted any child could survive the life that loomed before them both.

“We will send him to Balar,” he decided at last, the child on his hip since placing Elurín down usually resulted in screaming and crying fits, and sometimes actual convulsions from the terror that chased after the child so young he was practically a babe.

It felt like acid though, returning to the thindar one of the family that had stolen and continued to deny them their birthright.

Ah but…

It galled Cirdan to receive a messenger from the Noldor at such a time as this. But the child clinging to the messenger’s chest, in a deep, Power induced sleep stilled his tongue and made him curious for the babe was wrapped in clothing speaking of wealth, and had a regal cast to his or her young features already.

“I have been charged with delivering this child to you,” the messenger bowed deeply, “he is Gil-Galad, Scion of Kings. He is the only one left.”

“Technically we told him who the child was,” Maedhros said when the messenger returned successful.

“Save the name,” Maglor reminded him.

And after that there was the woods, and darkness, and cold. And his brother (his brother?) left him behind, told him to hide in a tree and he would be back. But his brother (his brother?) never came back.

Cirdan asked him, once or twice before giving up, because really Gil-Galad’s memories were too fragmented to be coherent, and what was left was so tinged with horror it could make him shudder and scream to try and remember what had happened after his father’s laughter for very long.

“Perhaps Orodreth,” Cirdan suggested. That made sense, Gil-Galad thought, touching his silver hair, for Orodreth’s grandmother had been Teleri hadn’t she? And Orodreth had a daughter, it was said. Gil-Galad remembered having a sister, but not what had happened to her. He wondered perhaps if he had mixed things up, in his fright, and it was not his brother (his brother?) that had left him behind in the tree but his sister (his sister?).

That might make more sense.

His tutor Erestor said he had something of his face that resembled King Fingon.

The timing was off though, he was far too young to be Fingon’s child, and anyway the Noldor King had never married, nor had any known bastards.

Orodreth seemed the most likely candidate, but no one could ask him now.

Gil-Galad had his own theory; or perhaps his own desperately held secret. Or perhaps it was merely a yearning wish.

He could remember a warm arm around him, and curling his hands into hair that was the colour of a cheerful copper pot. He could remember his relief when his surprise had faded away, and reaching eagerly for the tall shining warrior that had reached back for him, whispering it was alright and he would protect him, that there was nothing to fear. He thought of the way that warrior chased the terror away, and held him close though he must have been a burden and an inconvenience.

“Queen Míriel the Broideress was a Noldor of small stature, and unusually for her pedigree was of only Tatyarin descent, silver hair,” a creakily old history text that he read to please Erestor once said.

“Maedhros Fëanorion is my father,” Gil-Galad said to his mirror, still touching his silver hair.

To say it warmed him from the inside out, and a lingering memory of winter within a unending forest faded a little more to speak the words loud.

“I am Gil-Galad Maedhrosion,” he looked himself in the eye through the mirror, “I am the scion of Kings. I am the son of Maedhros once King of the Ňoldor, son of King Curufinwë Fëanor, son of King Finwë and Míriel the Broideress whose silver hair I bear.”

He tilted his chin at his reflection, then grinned at how haughty that had made him look.

He was still young yet, he had much more growing to do, that was what Cirdan said. Perhaps he might grow as tall as Maedhros was said to be.

“Maedhros Fëanorion is my father,” he said a final time.

It was more plausible than Fingon, and as plausible as Orodreth, or at least it was to him.

And it pleased him.

It Me :D I renamed myself! (and have not posted much fic of late I mean I’ve got unfinished unposted fic on my hardrive.)

Maedhros seems to be the only one who’s noticed so far….

More on reborn!Maedhros, Maglor has some breakdown episodes before getting used to the whole thing

‘But Dior returned no answer to the sons of Fëanor; and Celegorm stirred up his brothers to prepare an assault on Doriath. They came at unawares in the middle of winter, and fought with Dior in the Thousand Calves; and so befell the second slaying of Elf by Elf. There fell Celegorm by Dior’s hand…’ - Of the Ruin of Doriath, The Silmarillion.

“But Sauron in his tower was aware of them, and doubt took him; for they went in haste, and stayed not to report their deeds, as was commanded to all the servants of Morgoth that passed that way. Therefore he sent to waylay them, and bring them before him. “Thus befell the contest of Sauron and Felagund which is renowned. For Felagund strove with Sauron in songs of power, and the power of the King was very great; but Sauron had the mastery, as is told in the Lay of Leithian”

Celeborn in Doriath

dark enemy of the world- morgoth amiright