#gwindor

by SunflowerSupreme (@sunflowersupremes)

Perhaps the strangest thing in his grandson’s war camp was Gwindor. The former thrall of Angband, missing both a pinky and an eye, was the first thing anyone noticed when they approached the young High King. He stood at Gil-Galad’s right hand, the head of the king’s personal guard, a presence as steady as the steel at his hip. There was nothing ceremonial in the way he carried himself, no courtly bow, no polished armor. He looked like a man who had walked through fire and come out the other side knowing exactly how much of him the flames had taken.

Teen, No Archive Warnings

The sobriquet that Gwindor gave to Finduilas, Faelivrin, meant the gleam of sun upon the waters of Ivrin. Ivrin was the spring from which the river Narog sprang, winding down south through the realm of Nargothrond until it met the River Sirion in the valley of willows.

Both these places, the springs of Ivrin and Nan Tathren, the willow vale, are places imbued with the power of Ulmo, at least until Glaurung defiled the springs of Ivrin, leaving the waters a frozen waste and ripping up the beech trees around them.

Tuor once traveled through the willow valley and delighted in the wildflowers and butterflies of the water meads around the river. Túrin found healing at the springs of Ivrin once. When he returned after his first encounter with Glaurung, there was no more healing to be found there.

The first part of Faelivrin has a fascinating etymology and one also related to water. Fael derives from phay meaning spirit and is further derived from pha meaning exhalations, as mists upon water or as steam.

by ravencollector (@ravencollector)

“When Gwindor could stand and walk for longer without much augmenting his pain, he began to move around his old home more freely. The familiarity was in one way a balm, after the dark and heat of Angband and the loneliness of open Beleriand; yet it was painful also, because it fit him ill now.” In the days and months after his return to Nargothrond, Gwindor rests, recovers, and learns that healing is not a unidirectional process.

Teen, No Archive Warnings

So much of Angband is underground, a twisting maze of passages, tunnels and small chambers, many of them built by the slaves themselves under the direction of the cruel overseers. Some there go centuries without ever seeing the sky. Some are born and die beneath the earth.

The duel claustrophobia of pressing walls and low ceilings and of every word, every movement forced or scrutinised. A monotony of stone and metal and flesh.

Most elves live in open spaces, preferring some kind of proximity to trees, flora, stone, and wind. I’ve mentioned before I think they can become disoriented in an environment like Angband, cut off from the things they use to orient themselves.