#aracano

Fingolfin: Fingolfin did look up to Feanor a lot when he was younger and would try to act like him, wearing white, red, and gold, as well as trying to become a smith one time, but later when it became clear for him Feanor had no real interest he began doing a mix of being the opposite of Feanor as well as just trying things he thought he would like before wondering if either Feanor or Finwe would approve. While I think his relationship with Finwe was great I still think it had its flaws, especially when Finwe decided to go with Feanor to exile after Fingolfin had been threatened BY Feanor, neither do I think he ever felt that close to the Vanya, as after all he was a Noldor prince, and while not the first in line, he wasn´t the last either. Of his siblings, he was closest to Lalwen and would take her counsel highest. I do think that upon his death he thought he did what was best, after all, all was hopeless, but maybe he could sacrifice himself for more peace for his people, and while doing that, maybe he could see Anairë again? I also think he took much pride in his grandchildren, although only being aware of one, and made a big deal out of being there for all his children, supporting them in whatever they wanted and helping them try different things, as long as they would never fight among themself.

Anairë: Anairë came from a noble family and knew Fingolfin in his youth before they decided to marry. After Finarfin married Eärwen, who Anairë became close friends with, she would happily take her children to visit their uncle and aunt, building expressly upon Turgon and Finrod´s friendship. While I think she took pride in being fully Noldo she did not support Feanor, thinking him rash in his speeches, and neither could she follow her people after the first kinslaying both because of the humiliation she felt upon seeing it as well as the grief, and later would move in with Finarfin and Eärwen, grieving for her lost children and husband.

Idril: As a half Vanya (5/8 Vanya??) she leans a lot into her mother´s traditions, both by covering up her hair as well as not braiding it, and while the Vanya doesn´t wear as much jewelry as the Noldor they do wear big pieces when they do, and Idril finds some kind of middle ground. I think she used to wear some gold, like her mother, before the crossing of the ice where she lost both her mother and legs (last part is a HC). While before she chose to only wear silver it was because she idolized Anairë and wanted to be like her, while after it was some kind of denial later becoming a fashion choice (?). - I do HC that the first year after Elenwë´s death Idril only wore her mother's jewelry to feel close to her, but after having to accept her mother was gone she would try to avoid anything that would remind her too much of her.

Maeglin: I know I talk about it at every chance, but I HC ËOL AS A MAIA AND I WILL NOT BE TOLD OTHERWISE, so I give Maeglin glowing eyes too for that reason. Turgon, when it gets pointed out to him, because his whole family and most of his Lords have glowing eyes, just shrugs it off and blames Melian for it. I like to think that while there wasn´t a lot of galvorn Maeglin still learned how to forge with it, he and Aredhel have jewelry made with it. He dyes his hair tips light purple as is costume to some of the Avari, to color it, as that he thinks Ëol is a Avari and he therefore is part. Yes, he has dark purple hair after Ëol but thinks that´s just something some people do have, after all some of the Sinda (Luthien&Daeron) have blue hair and Ëol purple, why can´t he have it too?? Nobody really notices as he dyes it anyway, and Aredhel is 99% sure Ëol is a Maia which is why Maeglin too has purple hair, but why would that matter, he is mama´s boy after all.

But Aracano was like his father, like him in face and in speech, like him in his virtues and in his vices. He was more impulsive than his father, prone to acting out of passion more than discernment, but he deferred to Nolofinwë’s judgement more often than not—and how often was he not to be found at his father’s side? Her mind was closed forever to the elder Aracano, but she knew that whatever she told her son would go to his father. She could not forget him. If only she could forget him, for it was well that he was gone. But she could not, not when the son called to her in his thought.

Aracano wished for her to know that he was alive, that they were all alive. He would spare her from details of the evils of their passage, the torments of cold and hunger and pain, but now and then his control over his mind slipped as he bethought the suffering which he endured, and his weary mind opened to reveal those things, and she saw frightful images of what he had seen: her granddaughter’s feet blackened by the frost, Irissë and Findecano eating raw flesh that she knew came from no beast of the earth, Nolofinwë, his mouth firm in a stone scowl of anger and defiance, Lalwendë at his side, both of them wearing an expression of such fell animal wildness as she had only seen once and that in the eyes of Fëanaro. She had shuddered and tried to cast it all from her mind, but those fragments of memory haunted her into her dreams, and she would wake beside Eärwen in a cold sweat.

Aracano rejoiced when he saw the Moon, bright and silver in the West, and she rejoiced with him, for it spelled an end to the long darkness, a new symbol of hope for the Eldar, a sign that mayhap the Valar would in truth not abandon the dear ones who had abandoned her.

But next she heard from Aracano he was in pain. His mind was red with fear and anguish and he reached for her, for Mama. She knew his father held him too, she knew his siblings were there, but she could not hold him in her arms, she could not hold her baby as he lay dying. She cradled the part of his mind that touched hers, she cradled it and she wept.

“Mandos calleth to me, Ammë, and I must go. Come to me Ammë, take me home if the Doomsman ever seeth fit to release me. I love thee, Ammë.”

A slipping, a fading, a satin ribbon falling limp through her fingers, and Aracano faded like smoke. The wind bore away the filiform strand of his thought, and Anairë heard from him no more.