#tirion

To Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

"Song of Earendil"

“And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree….In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion."

But here he was, stood upon their ship with the undying lands finally in sight after months of sailing across the unending ocean. He might be a mariners son but he certainly had no great love for boats, he didn’t have a problem with them, but the knowledge of not having ground beneath his feet still made him uneasy.

At their arrival many awaited them, to welcome the newcomers into the blessed lands.

High King Arafinwë, in Middle Earth better known as Finarfin, and his other children had come to welcome Galadriel.

Gandalf reunited with some old Maia friends of his and then escorted the hobbits that had joined them to a nice little cottage for them to spend their days in.

He himself recognized many of the faces in the small crowd. First he spotted Gil-Galad, who welcomed him with open arms. Then his beloved Celebrian, who pulled him into a hug the moment he saw her, she was much better now.

A few soldiers of Rivendell were there as well, happy to see their Lord again.

Elrond ended up settling in Tirion with all the others and moved into Celebrian‘s home. It was a nice house with a good view and easy access to the market and other nearby shops and market places.

Tirion was flawless. The white towers with their pointy roofs, the elegant guards with their silver spears, the market place with its various stalls and merchants.

He met many of his ancestors, some he got along with and some he didn’t.

The first he met was Turgon, it took half an hour for them to end up in an argument about the moralities of handling delicate situations within one‘s own city and when to help those in need.

Luckily his second meeting went much better. His great grandfather, Fingolfin, was much more sensible and they got along quickly due to their shared knowledge on leadership and experience of hardships throughout their lives. Though the late High King did comment to his wife Anairë later about how he was sure he‘d bite his teeth out on Elrond eventually, comparing his stubbornness to someone else’s.

When he at last met Fingon it took the elf exactly five minutes to ask if he had been raised by Maedhros. To this day Elrond didn’t understand how he did it, for he himself wasn’t aware of the small details. Like how he did his hair exactly like the fëanorian had or that he held himself with something of Valinorian regalness he definitely didn’t pick up in Lindon.

But as time went on Elrond began to realize something.

Tirion was truly perfect.

Too perfect.

Everyone seemed to have collectively decided to ignore any pains and hardships experienced in Middle Earth or Beleriand and live their lives as if everything was perfectly fine.

When bringing this up to Gil-Galad he just said that they preferred it that way, even if it wasn’t perfect, not everyone had made the journey and seen war, and those who didn’t weren’t comfortable of discussing or displaying it.

The more time Elrond spend in the white city the lonelier he felt. It seemed as if he was the only one prepared to speak of or even mention anything of the things that happened to so many of them.

The more he realized that the more he felt out of place.

Because he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it actually.

He had gone through things most couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares and had seen horrors he wished he could forget.

He had seen his city attacked, had been kidnapped, even though that did turn out positively in the end. Had witnessed war and bloodshed from young on, had served as Herald and later taken on the mantel of Lord. He had seen so much that he just couldn’t ignore.

So one day he mounted his horse and rode out of Tirion. He didn’t have a destination or any idea where he was going but he just kept riding until he was exhausted.

When he looked up he saw a large city with high towers, but no pointy roofs were atop them, instead there stood guards. The walls weren’t made of white stone and marble but steadfast and resistant cobblestone and tall pillars.

The front guards let him in after he explained his situation, and the moment he stepped through those gates it was as if he had entered another world. No excessive jewelry was worn, but rather detailed braids and head dresses or simple circlets.

Scars of all types were openly portrayed instead of covered up and hidden as if they were sometimes to be ashamed of.

Elrond saw elves with walking sticks and missing limbs and crippled bodies. They were warriors, they were survivors, they were the ugly but real truth, and it felt so relieving too see them.

He had no idea where he had ended up in, but he already knew it was much better than Tirion.

No one was putting on a fake mask of perfection and instead just acted as they truly were.

Elrond walked through the streets, talked with some of the locals and listened to their stories.

He heard everything from ex soldiers to healers like him to guards and even some escaped thralls of Angband.

It was so much better than the flawlessly perfect white city. It wasn’t fake.

Elrond ended up in what seemed to be a throne room. At the end of it stood a elf, dressed in a long robe, his hair littered with many braids and a elegant silver hammer in hand.

His eyes were of piercing grey and his hair as black as the night, but his gaze familiarly gentle.

Elrond knew before he spoke.

Elrond knew before he looked up.

Elrond knew before he stepped closer.

Elrond knew before he even acknowledged him.

In smaller print: “The optional course has been canceled.”

The Academy of Fëanor: Structure, Rules, Traditions

Admissions Committee

Entrance Trial #1: bring something you made with your own hands.

Trial #2: defend it in front of Fëanor.

Trial #3: survive when he says:

“Not bad. For a beginning. For a very, very beginning.”

Passing score: 98/100, because “where the other two points went—figure it out.”

Dress Code

robe — optional

confidence — mandatory

ability to take a hit — essential

safety goggles — issued by the smithing faculty, but “mostly for the weak”

Rule #1

No ‘I can’t.’ Only: “I’m not finished yet.”

Rule #2

If you did well, you’ll hear: “Why not perfect?” If you did perfect, you’ll hear: “Why not better than possible?”

Class Schedule (Sample: Year 1, “Foundations of Flame”)

Monday

08:00–09:30 — Introduction to Superiority (lecture) Topic: “Why average is a crime against form.”

09:45–11:15 — Materials Science: From Dust to Diamond (lab) Homework: find a material that “doesn’t know what it wants to be” and make it decide.

11:30–13:00 — Rhetoric & Defeating Your Opponent (seminar) Quiz: win an argument even if you’re wrong. Eligibility requirement: you must feel at least a little ashamed afterward.

14:30–18:00 — Forge Practicum I: “Strike While It’s Hot” Fëanor walks between anvils and says: — “No, no, no… that one is almost not disgraceful.”

Tuesday

08:00–10:00 — The Geometry of Light (lecture+practice) Assignment: construct a figure that “looks like truth.”

10:15–12:00 — Ethics of Creation (short lecture) Lasts 7 minutes. Contents: “Don’t do anything stupid.” Questions are forbidden.

13:00–15:00 — The Psychology of Envy: How the Less-Gifted Cope (workshop) Lab: endure the stare of someone who says, “Well, you’re just lucky.”

15:15–17:00 — Physical Education: Fencing with Arguments Grading: speed, accuracy, elegance, and number of opponents who leave in silence.

Wednesday

08:00–09:00 — History: “Everyone Was Wrong Except Me” (lecture) On day one, students whisper: “Is this about…?” Instructor: “Yes.”

09:15–11:45 — Alchemy of Color and Radiance (lab) Safety note: “do not inhale inspiration too deeply.”

12:00–13:30 — Music of the Spheres: Theory & Domination (seminar) Pass requirement: compose a motif that sounds like the world should reorganize itself around it.

15:00–18:30 — Fëanor’s Workshop (restricted) Admitted only:

top students

prodigies

those he has “noticed”

and one unfortunate straight-A student assigned there “by distribution.”

Thursday

08:00–10:00 — Architecture of Fate (lecture) Topic: “How to make plans so reality politely asks to fit into your scheme.”

10:15–12:15 — Debates: The Art of Not Agreeing (practice) Final round: “Disagree with me.” Class lasts exactly until the first attempt.

13:30–17:00 — Forge Practicum II: “Make It Sing” Manual: “if it doesn’t sing—melt it down.”

Friday

08:00–09:30 — Mock Exam: “Creation Under Pressure” You’re given: a stone, some wire, a piece of wood, one minute of silence, and one look from Fëanor.

09:45–12:00 — Philosophy: The Meaning of Form (lecture) At the end he says: — “The meaning of form is to be the best form.” …and leaves, forcing the class to think… and breathe nervously.

13:00–16:00 — Colloquium of Mistakes Everyone brings a failure. Fëanor grades not the flop, but how usefully you wriggled out of it.

16:15–17:00 — General Assembly: “Who Was Mediocre Today?” Those who raise a hand get a chance to improve. Those who don’t get an oral exam on “humility.”

Faculties (You pick one… but Fëanor will pick you a second.)

Faculty of Light & Optics — crystals, reflections, “impossible” hues.

Faculty of Smithcraft — metal, fire, form, a song in steel, and sturdy nerves.

Faculty of Word & Will — rhetoric, negotiation, “how to speak so the world agrees.”

Faculty of Higher Making (elite) — you don’t enroll. You are invited. Usually with: — “Fine. Let’s see what you can do. Don’t disappoint me.”

Exams (The Best Part)

Exam 1: “The Ideal in One Night”

Task: create an object that is:

beautiful

useful

and “has the right to exist.”

Conditions: one night, one workshop, and a figure in the shadows who occasionally says: — “Are you really going to shame my name with that?”

Grading:

5 — if he nods in silence

4 — if he says “acceptable”

3 — if he says “well…”

2 — if he says “interesting” (dangerous)

1 — if he says “are you sure?”

0 — if he simply takes your work, melts it down, and tells you to watch how it’s done

Exam 2: “Project Defense Before Fëanor”

Format: 10-minute presentation + 50 minutes of questions that sound like an assault on your self-esteem, but are actually a stress test.

Classic question: — “Why did you choose this solution?” (translation: “Why didn’t you choose the better one?”)

Exam 3: “The Pride Colloquium”

You must explain what you did well… without sounding smug. Difficulty: Fëanor believes it’s theoretically possible, but suspects it isn’t.

Grading System

“Genius” — rare, legendary, almost mythical

“Worthy” — you live

“Acceptable” — you live, with prospects

“Improve” — you live, but you’re already thinking about a retake

“Don’t disgrace the craft” — you live, because he decided to give you a chance

“To the workshop. Now.” — not a grade, a sentence

Vacations

Vacations exist. Theoretically. In practice—“time for independent creation.”

Favorite summer assignment: “Make something I wouldn’t fix.” (Half the students then go into the woods and talk to trees—trees at least use a supportive tone.)

Special Academy Traditions

“The Hour of Silence”

Once a week, Fëanor walks through the halls and says nothing. This is considered the highest praise and, simultaneously, the cause of mass fainting.

“The Tournament of Ideas”

Students throw a concept onto the table. Fëanor throws reality back.

“The Fëanor Scholarship”

Awarded to those who:

do the impossible

work without sleep

and never say the word “enough.”

And Finally — Freshman Survival Memo

If you study under Fëanor, remember:

Don’t argue for sport. He does it better.

Don’t hide behind “taste.” He’ll ask whose it is.

Don’t boast loudly. He boasts quietly—yet everyone hears it.

If he says “interesting,” don’t celebrate. It means real work begins now.

Tirion upon Túna, the city of the Noldor in Valinor, and the surrounding countrysides

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