governor of Rarepair Island&trade;&#65039;

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The next Fëanorian to be stunned to find out Finrod had arrived during the night in Amon Ereb was Amras. Amras had come from inspecting the vicinity of their lands with some of the patrols, checking to see if the ground had not softened too much and where, and see if any families both of Eldar and Edain needed aid with any possible damages wrought onto their properties and homesteads because of the downpour. Some families needed aid with new roofing materials, but so far the tallies were doing good – they suffered no casualties and the floods ebbed rather quickly.

Breakfast was already underway when Amras returned – and there in the kitchen, his elder brothers were seated, Finrod among them, helping himself to his second big bowl of Turko’s chicken porridge.

“Ingoldo?” Amras blurted out, just to be sure his eyes didn’t deceive him. “Amras, good morning. I’m camping out here for some days, worry not, just enough to….stabilize myself,” Finrod says, looking up from his porridge and looking mournful.

Which was terribly disconcerting. For as long as Amras and Amrod could remember, their older cousin Findaráto Ingoldo had been the epitome of bright cheer and joyous laughter. Maglor – well, Maglor was the melancholic one, Fingon the straight-laced one – but Finrod – Finrod was the one who broke into song whatever task he might do, and then danced besides, and the entire room would be partying with him even before they knew what exactly hit them. The Finrod sitting in his and Amrod’s kitchen looked terribly sad, and upset, and even his blond curls were looking rather limp and unkempt. Even his radiance dimmed a little – right now, he was the pale sunlight after a terrible storm, or a blizzard.

“Of…of course, Ingoldo,” said Amras. “Has anyone sent a letter to Nelyo already?” He looked around at his brothers as he sat in his customary place across from his twin brother.

“I have written to Himring,” said Curufin brusquely. “On the fastest messenger hawk we can spare. Before the week’s end Nelyo should be here.”

“So,” said Celegorm as he filled Finrod’s bowl for the third time. “Are you going to tell us what happened and who is involved? I can ready my bow and arrow and spears. My hounds haven’t run down screaming, intelligent prey in a while.”

“I can sharpen my knives,” Curufin added.

“I say bonfire,” said Amrod. “Massive bonfire, throw whoever it is in the flames.”

Their words at least managed to accomplish their common goal: coax a laugh from Finrod. The golden Elda looked at all his cousins, smiling gratefully. “There’s no need to murder for me. I just want to have Nelyo to talk to, and he’ll make me see sense as always, and then I’ll be alright. Thank you – for…for letting me stay.”

“Nonsense!” said Turko. “Of course you can go here anytime!” “Are you sure about that refusal of murder?” Curufin narrowed his eyes dubiously. “I’ll make kindling for the bonfire ready, we might need it,” said Amrod. “Of course you’re always welcome in Amon Ereb,” said Amras.

Huan padded over, and with a soft whine, rested his massive head on Finrod’s lap. The golden elf’s smile grew, and he gave Huan an appreciative pet and kissed the hound’s wet, twitching nose.

[Doom Gloom and Maeglin / AO3]

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Doom, Gloom and Maeglin Chapter 15

“I know,” said Finrod, waving it away with a beringed hand. “It is an excuse, I know, but Ilúvatar take me if it isn’t the dumbest excuse I have ever heard. Anyway – yes, when I first came to the shores of the Narog, I found Mîm and his kin, and despite their mistrust and fear of me, I convinced them to collaborate with me, and we began to delve and improve Nulukkizdîn together. The foundations of what you saw – our roads, our bridges – were the work of the Nibin-nogrim and my engineers, architects and craftsmen. The labor was difficult, of course, and part of the agreement was that the Nibin-nogrim would be compensated with part of the treasure I brought from Valinor, and a right to remain at the oldest tunnels – as our neighbors, you understand?” Now, Finrod shook his head. “But they decided – Mîm decided I was not trustworthy, and tried to slit my throat one evening. I had to expel them for such treachery, though these caves have once been theirs. A tragedy, that. I then sought the aid of the dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost after that, and it was with their work that Nargothrond was finally completed.” And that is where Azaghâl first beheld your beauty, and he decided to make for you the Nauglamír, and… Maeglin’s thoughts took a dark turn, and jealousy roared up as a fire inside him then, but he bit the inside of his cheek and said nothing. He let the silence stretch between them.

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when the waves crash and recede || @skaelds chapter 2

Finrod walks, heralded by that tinkling sound that spelled terror and death to the thralls and prisoners and orcs from where he sourced his meals if Mairon is not sharing blood. It is the same dreaded sound Mairon makes when he approaches the dungeons or torture chambers: that deceptively gentle tink tink tink of jewelry. Where Mairon is heralded by this sound and the unbearable increase in temperature and humidity, Finrod is heralded by the same sound alone. The whiff of blood from him is not sensed until it is too late.

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The Shadows Stretch and Sigh || @skaelds Chapter 1

He keeps his hair unbound and goes to his jewelry boxes, picking out many oxidized gold necklaces, arm bands, and a pair of onyx crystal earrings. Now these oxidized gold jewelry were clearly crafted by Gorthaur; no orc nor thrall would be capable of the inhumanly delicate and minute detailing that adorned all the pieces, and also nobody else in Angband was authorized to use the Eye as a motif. Not even Melkor used it. A few times Gorthaur bites the air, to signify to Finrod that his picks are ill made. But ultimately he is content, and floods their bond with an onslaught of sudden pleasure. It makes Finrod’s knees wobble. He collapses onto the floor, trembling at the onslaught of the sensation.

Part 6 of Blood in The Mouth

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Doom, Gloom and Maeglin Chapter 12

@skaelds He would remember Caranthir making a dash for the daggers, saying that he would cut his hair off, all off, and himself applauding- Finrod sprinting to tackle the Noldo to refrain him from acting, tossing the dagger to Maeglin, who in a state of panic, opened the window and hurled it as far away as he could. He would remember how they had wrestled for the last bottle of wine then, how he had managed to elbow Finrod deep enough in the stomach that Finrod had blanched, turned green, and vomited in the flowers’ pots Finduilas had offered him. He would remember how he had exclaimed high enough that Caranthir had fallen upon him to steal his trophy, crying and raging about oaths and stolen properties, and how they had fallen to the ground, Maeglin’s head hitting the ground hard enough that he had seen stars. Perhaps it was the cry that had alerted Orodreth and Edrahil, perhaps it was how Caranthir and Maeglin were howling with laughter, describing in length all the colors that Finrod’s face went through. In any case, it caused Orodreth and the captain of the guards to barge into the rooms, take one look at the scene and sigh , successfully stealing the last bottle from their hands. It did not please them. It did not please them at all; and before Orodreth could protect himself, he found himself tackled to the ground by Caranthir- while Finrod and Maeglin sprinted after Edrahil to get their due back. Finrod ran into a wall. He had only the time to hear Maeglin’s dismay, a great cry about comrades fallen in battles, before he toppled to the ground, and properly passed out.

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where the wind whispers foe || Chapter 2

#silmarillion #silm #blood in the mouth #collab writing #collab fic #my writing #my fanfic #finrod #sauron #finrod felagund #gorthaur

Gorthaur, his eyes alight with perverse satisfaction, observes Finrod with a delight so palpable that it almost drips from his features. At this moment, he realizes he had made a miscalculation. Regarding Finrod. It was his anger towards the Valar, the unfairness of the weight of the sacrifice demanded from him, that would sway Finrod to his side. Not any kind of fear or love.

But revenge .

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Doom, Gloom and Maeglin || @skaelds Chapter 11

...Maeglin was not certain that his dislike for Caranthir had roots in such a jealousy. No, what he envied so deeply was not the carnal implication, but the familial affection. It was harsh a realization, and bitter a pill to swallow. But it was the truth.

Seeing Finrod with Caranthir, as if brothers sharing tales of their past, had made him painfully realize how lonely his childhood had ever been. And Maeglin longed, so deeply he feared to go mad with it, to have one to share such stories with. To have one understand what he referenced without words, one to know of Nan Elmoth and Adar and Emel, one to know of the Dwarves and the blue mountains, one to know of how Maeglin both loathed and loved the forest, to know what it felt like to have his eyes burn and water at the sight of sunlight and hear the whispers say him half-orc, to have felt the same loneliness he had felt in Gondolin, to speak to him the language of his youth.

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Blood In The Mouth - Dalliansss, Skaelds - The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms [Archive of Our Own]

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Collaborative work with @skaelds

Series Begun: 2023-03-19 Series Updated: 2023-03-19 Brief Description:

A multi-part series showcasing the long and slow corruption of Finrod Felagund, and the relationship between him and Sauron. Spans multiple Ages.

Synopsis: “Beware the favor of the Ainur; for after the sweet and admiring gaze, lies a trap.” -- Mairon, to Finrod

There have not been any Eldar to challenge Gorthaur the Cruel in Song; and the deed itself is worthy of recognition, even a begrudging one. Yet in Tol-in-Gaurhoth the famed Contest of Music transpired, and instead of letting Finrod Felagund die in the pits, Gorthaur instead chooses to turn him, first, into a werewolf -- but again, Finrod proves himself even greater when he kills the werewolf bare-handed.

So a vampire it would have to be.

Or, where Gorthaur the Cruel appreciates beauty, courage, and willpower -- enough to try keep a brilliant one like Finrod for himself. For everyone can fall into Shadow, and willingly stay there, if one knows which buttons to push.

#silmarillion #silm #my writing #my fanfic #collab fanfic #collab writing #lay of leithian #quest for the silmaril #vampire au #a long and slow corruption arc #blood in the mouth #finrod #felagund #finrod felagund #sauron #mairon #gorthaur

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skaelds

GIF by

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When Turgon commands Maeglin to go to Nargothrond for peace and a Lady Wife, he does not expect to fall head over heels for Finrod Felagund. Nor for said King to offer a most unconventional proposal: for them to exchange places for a time, Maeglin claiming the position of power he seeks, and Finrod absconding to the adventure his fëa longs for. To the surprise of no one, it does not go quite as planned.

(In which Finrod swears he will not marry and fate laughs at him)

collab with @dalliansss 🤣 (we're productive recently)

dalliansss reblogged

skaelds

On the Origin of Poodle Moths in Aman - Skaelds - The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien [Archive

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