Welcome to the House of Finwë!

Just cause I think this would be cute for the Finwëans (because large extended family yanno.) Bear with me, this needs a little context.

In my culture we don’t call older siblings by their names. More than respect, we do it as a form of endearment. For example, the oldest sister is ‘Apama’

Apa - Sister (affectionate)

Ma - short form of mother (also affectionate)

Another example is ‘Apajaan’, jaan as a generic term of endearment. Usually used for people you’re close to. This also applies to older cousins, especially first cousins who get the next closest endearments. Or if you only have brothers or only have sisters, they’d take the ones available.

Eg. I don’t have any sisters but I have an older female first cousin. I’d call her Apama.

Or maybe I don’t have any older brothers, so I call my male first cousin ‘Bhaijaan’ (Bhai = brother)

SO I think it would be super cute if our resident Aman born elves with their hundred names, also had these terms for their older siblings. It would probably only be used if there’s a significant age gap, so Mae and Mags would call each other by their names, Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin all use each other’s names.

All of Fingon’s younger siblings call him by an endearment. Argon also uses one for Turgon and Aredhel.

All of Finrod’s siblings call him by an endearment. Aegnor and Angrod call each other by names. Galadriel doesn’t because she wants to be Different TM but it comes out in moments of high emotion. Orodreth (because I like adding him even if it was one mistake in the official stuff) calls everyone but Galadriel by one.

Ambarussa use a big sister endearment for Aredhel, since she’s so often hanging Celegorm and they see her the most. And an older cousin term for Galadriel.

The Nolofinwëans and Arafinwëans use endearments for their respective older cousins, and those of similar ages, but only those still somewhat close to the Fëanorions use any for them once they leave for Formenos.

The exception is Maedhros and potentially Maglor (depending when he was born) as the first grandchildren with a larger age gap to the rest of the family. Everyone has to call them by some term, even if it’s just out of respect. Fingolfin and Finarfin ensured this out of love for the eldest kids.

Onto Finwë’s kids.

Fëanor is oldest so it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t particularly care if the others call him by his name or anything else.

All of Findis’ younger siblings call her by an endearment.

Fingolfin and Lalwen are pretty close in age so they call each other by names mostly (we have some more generic equal terms too.) Fingolfin probably used something for Fëanor until pride took over both brothers.

Finarfin is the baby of the family and generally a ball of sunshine until they throw the crown at him. He calls everyone by something, including Fëanor because let’s face it. He’s probably old enough to be Finarfin’s dad by the time he’s born 😂

Now the interesting thing would be seeing how these relationships dissolve over time, and when they lose these terms of respect or endearment. When the younger members start calling their siblings or cousins by their names instead. Because I don’t think it would change just because of a new language.

Most of them start calling Maedhros by his name only after the first kinslaying and Helcaraxë. Some of them return to calling him by an honorific when they see what Morgoth did to him and he gives up the crown to keep peace.

They all stop calling the rest of the Fëanorions anything but their names though. The exceptions are Fingon (who only used one for Maglor other than Mae, and that was more out of general affection than because he was older) and Finrod.

Finrod has one for Celegorm as well (he is in fact a bit younger) which he uses until the Nargothrond situation because listen. I sincerely doubt Finrod would’ve just let Celegorm and Curufin in freely if he didn’t have a good relationship with them.

Turgon starts calling Fingon by name sometimes after losing Elenwë. He doesn’t know why, he shouldn’t be angry at his brother… but he doesn’t have anywhere else to take out his fury. Fingon’s heartbroken, but he understands.

No one calls Turgon anything but his name after his disappears. Ironically enough Turgon starts calling Maedhros and Fingon by theirs again once he moves away.

Depending on their mood, the twins do or don’t call Aredhel by hers. They don’t blame her exactly, but it hurts that she’s gone. Then again, it’s not like they don’t deserve it after the boats. The younger Arafinwëans are a little less forgiving.

All the younger Fëanorions and Nolofinwëans call Angrod by name after the ban on Quenya. Some of them do the same to Finrod.

Galadriel completely stops using any and all terms after deciding to stay in Doriath. Catching herself even in those high emotion situations where it would sometimes come out. No one’s really surprised but it does hurt her brothers and Nolofinwëan cousins. She regrets this in the Second and especially Third Ages, and exclusively uses endearments when talking about them to keep some connection to her lost family.

Meanwhile on a faraway shore, Finarfin alternates between cursing his brothers and sisters’ names, and crying alone under still unfamiliar moonlight, calling for them in every term of endearment he can think of. They never answer.

…I’m sorry, this got kinda angsty towards the end 😂

Feel free to ask if you have any questions!

A Meeting in Valinor

Elrond comes back from his first real meeting with Eärendil tired and unsure what to do. He gets some help from an unexpected source.

Dw this isn’t hating on any of Elrond’s parents. Pure fluff :)

Elrond had returned to his house and was lying with his head in Celebrian’s lap. He’d told her how the meeting had gone and flopped on the sofa, drained, before she’d soothed away some of his oncoming headache as she’d done many years before. Now he lay with his eyes closed, soaking in the summer rays as she read.

Celebrian jerked suddenly, and Elrond shot up, hand going to the knife in his boot. Some habits wouldn’t change.

“Ai! relax! It’s just me!”

Elrond’s face slackened.

“It cannot be...”

Celebrian looked between the two, eyes lingering on the semi-familiar features before her. Round ears. Beard. Warm grey eyes, wise yet playful. Elven cut, navy tunic with silver embroidery, and brown hair brushing his shoulders. She tensed at the closed expression on Elrond’s face, reaching for her own dagger as the figure shuffled nervously.

“Hello, Ada.”

Elrond released a strangled sound and the man ran to his open arms, desperately clutching the elf. Elrond pulled back, hand smoothing down unruly hair as if he’d done so many times before.

“Estel, how- You’re *dead.*”

Celebrian relaxed at the name, a gentle smile lighting her face as the human spluttered between tears. So this was her lost son.

Aragorn smiled tremulously as he replied.

“Exactly as you used to say Ada, Illuvatar’s mind is unknown in regards to the fate of men, and I guess I was allowed to come here.”

Elrond hugged him again.

“How’s Arwen?”

“She’s doing well, recently became good friends with Andreth.” A strange look came over Aragorn’s face and his foster father laughed, kissing his forehead. He turned to his wife, and it was then that Aragorn froze, seeing the elleth before him. He shot to his feet, bowing low before her.

“Milady, I-“

Celebrian shot the half-elf an exasperated look and grabbed one of the man’s hands, pulling him up. Aragorn looked at her, confused.

“Mil-“

“Call me ‘Milady’ again and I’ll toss you out the front door. Elrond said you used to call me Naneth.” Aragorn flushed, eyes on his boots and Celebrian laughed. “I take no insult, son of Elrond! It is only right considering you were not only adopted into the family, but also married my daughter.”

The Dunedan gaped, and she pulled him onto the sofa between herself and her husband, voice softening at the sorrow in Aragorn’s eyes.

“There is no need to feel guilty Estel, I long foresaw Arwen’s choice and understand she was loved and taken care of by the best of men.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for giving her happiness. She was so sad after the orcs, I feared she’d never smile again.”

Aragorn froze for a moment, then buried his head into her shoulder, apologies spilling out his mouth. Celebrian rested a hand on his head.

“None of that now, I’m glad Arwen was able to find her strength again, even if it led her down a different path.” She pulled back and squeezed his shoulders. “And I’m glad to meet *you.*”

Aragorn bowed his head then settled back against the sofa. A comfortable silence filled the space until Elrond spoke.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, ion-nin, but why are you here?”

Aragorn turned to face the half elf, a mischievous glint in his eyes as Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Well this should be interesting.”

“I had some... unfinished business to attend to.”

“Is that so?”

Aragorn sat on a chair in front of the elves, and both of them straightened. He winced at the expectant look on his foster father’s face, reminded of every scrap he’d been pulled out of in Rivendell, then later as a ranger.

“It may have had something to do with your earlier conversation.” The look didn’t change and he sighed in defeat. “Ok fine. It had everything to do with it. I had a conversation with Earendil. Interesting man. Surprisingly relaxed.”

Elrond smiled tiredly and Celebrian took his hand.

“Interesting indeed. He… wasn’t what I expected.”

Aragorn’s laugh echoed, loud and warm and *human* in a way Celebrian knew her husband missed dearly. So many of Elrond’s friends had been mortal, so much of his family.

“Now that’s an understatement!” The man smiled wide. “In any case, I had a quick conversation with him after you left. He says he’d love to take you sailing and have a proper heart to heart.” The smile dropped to something more somber, more gentle. “He also says he understands if you need more time, and will wait as long as he needs.”

Elrond seemed to simultaneously age and relax.

“If you’d take my advice…” Aragorn began hesitantly, waiting for Elrond’s warm nod before continuing, “I think you should take him up on the offer.“

Elrond gave real thought to the words and Celebrian wondered just how well this man judged characters that Elrond was willing to take another chance. Any elf would have been shut down by now. Had been in the past.

“I do not know if I can.”

A familiar stubborn glint entered Aragorn’s eye. A fearlessness Celebrian was delighted to see.

“I say this with respect Adar, but you have to stop running away from this.”

The half-elf startled at the sharp words, but Aragorn continued before he could fully recover. Smart kid.

“For your own sake, you must face him. Just as you must one day face Elwing, Maedhros and Maglor… but this is a good place to start.” He leaned forward to take his father’s tightly clenched hands. “What did you tell me when my heritage was revealed? When I was terrified the weight of my past might drown away my present?”

A suspicion began to form in Celebrian’s mind, threatening to break out in a bright laugh and smothering hug for the son she’d never met. Of course. Of course.

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wryness and pride in his eyes when he looked up at Aragorn.

“The past is but a small part of you. You are so much more your history, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Wise advice, no?”

“Seems a little narcissistic to agree, but I suppose it is.”

Squeezing Aragorn’s hands back, Elrond sighed and slumped back, eyes closing for a long moment. Aragorn glanced at Celebrian, who returned a small, reassuring smile. It was about time someone smacked some sense into her husband’s head, and this one knew how to push all the right buttons.

“I am afraid, little one.” Elrond finally whispered.

Aragorn grinned boyishly, and Celebrian’s suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Y’know when you’re tired and come across the wrong post at the wrong time and just. Pure rage. For no reason whatsoever.

I’m feeling rather bitter at Elwing rn (it was a very well written ficlet and I admire the writer, I’m just tired and unwell 😂) so you get a little fic of me getting that out. Content warning done.

Here we go!

Elrond and Elros can’t stand most depictions of their mother.

White feathered wings, plain white gown billowing in the sea breeze around her slight figure, two dark shapes reaching taloned hands for the brilliant gem around her neck. Desperate expression on a too round face with wide eyes looking towards her sons. It makes them sick.

Because Elwing wasn’t soft and innocent. Elwing wasn’t like that at all.

Sharp, angular features. Grey slivers for eyes more often clouded than not. White? Yes she wore white. But it was the white of a desert sun, the white of cold starlight, merciless and unfeeling as elves were dragged to the darkness.

And she’d loved her sons, yes, but it was the love of an ideal. Elwing was young and far from ready for the burdens of motherhood alongside ruling a city in her husband’s ever growing absences. And the gem-

Well. The less said about the silmaril, the better.

The Sindar more than others remain desperate for a symbol of innocence, a sign of their claim to the stolen jewel over the sons of it’s creator. So they present their winged princess bathed in holy light whilst the sons of Fëanor cower from it’s brilliant glow.

But Elrond and Elros remember how the stone sang when Maedhros and Maglor arrived, just as they remember their mother’s fury at its song.

You see, Elwing loved her sons. But she didn’t jump to save them.

Elrond and Elros saw the beginnings of regret, but they also remember her steadfast determination to keep what was never hers, cold starlight and unyielding sun meshing to cruel pride as she fell. It wasn’t holy light but white hot fire that clashed with the silmaril to send her screaming as the stone rejected her grasp, burning brighter than ever as she flew to her husband.

Elrond’s arrival to Valinor and the white scars radiating from Elwing’s hand to her chest confirm what he knew all along.

It wasn’t innocence that crowned her the day Sirion fell.

Because years before Maedhros and Maglor had fallen victim to the Silmaril’s hallowing, Elwing the White had paid the price for her false claim. And no matter how they tried to hide it, the consequences of that pride marked her to this day.

Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin loved all their nephews and nieces I take no argument. They showed it in different ways, but there were never any malicious thoughts towards them.

Any competition they had was between each other (though Finarfin was very much youngest sibling literally cba to deal with his older brothers.)

Fëanor: Always has too much food, used to his kids bringing over their respective favourite cousin for a meal because they were out playing too late and he’s not exactly going to send a child home hungry. As they got older it was because they’d been out and this was the closest place to disappear away to and crash. He’s used to seeing various kids sprawled across the carpet in the living room, waking up with headaches and groans. He’ll never admit it, but he finds it hilarious and enjoys seeing the children happy. If his brothers ask? ‘What do you mean they were out, I’ve had your children here with me all night.’

Fingolfin: One day I’ll stop linking this post but I really like how it turned out so you get to see it again! Fingolfin happily lets them traverse his house, go through his belongings. He’s very much a partner in crime, helping them sneak around, acting as lookout. Pretending not to see a majority of sweet pasties disappear overnight. He lives closest to the busy parts of the city, so it’s not unusual for the kids to get ready at his house if they’re going out anywhere or even preparing for Court. Most of the kids have their own shared room, and they’re full to the brim of everyone’s clothes, jewellery, shoes. Essentially a whole wardrobe. It gets messy, but he loves seeing his house full of life. Even if he could do without the mess Tyeko and Iressë bring in… and the various musicals at 3am. ‘You know we never tire of having you here… but perhaps you could tone down the partying? Just a little?’ He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finarfin: My guy ofc has his house by the sea which like Fingolfin’s, has many many rooms full to the brim with clothes and jewellery. It’s essentially a home away from home for his niece and nephews, they don’t have to pack because everything’s already there. As youngest uncle and closest in age, he’ll just so happen to tell the kids where to have fun. He had the least pressure on him growing up and knows the best places in Tirion and Alqualondë. Going to Finarfin’s is like going on holiday, he’ll back them up and make sure they can do what they want without worrying about their reputations as princes and princesses. ‘The kids are far too stressed and don’t get to come here often, brothers. Let them have their fun. I’ll take care of them.’

Bonus!

Finwë: The mastermind. The accomplice. The alibi. He has a wild side to him born in Cuivienen and honed over the Great Journey. Court life is too stuffy even for him sometimes, let alone his grandchildren. He’s the one telling them all the wild things he got up to in his youth with a wink at the end subtly telling them how to do things their parents definitely would not approve of. High King Finwë would never! High King Finwë definitely would, and he’s making sure his grandkids get the experience too. He’s the one who gets the parents to leave for weeks at a time and his grandchildren have the time of their lives. ‘My sons, you worry too much! Don’t you trust your father?’

So there’s a note in the Silm saying the Noldolantë was made ‘ere Maglor was lost’ which is why they know about it. So I think it’s safe to say he wrote and finished it before that final silmaril run.

I’m thinking he wrote it and before Elrond and Elros went to Gil Galad, they took a copy each. Maybe Maglor wrote it at their request. Maybe he sent it with them to make sure history wasn’t forgotten. Maybe they wrote it down as he sang in the empty rooms his little brothers once slept.

I think Elrond kept his copy close to his heart, hidden away for a time it would be safe to reveal. I think he would insert verses here and there in his own songs, until the entire thing was split over a hundred different pieces. I think he didn’t reveal it until he got to Rivendell, where he had several copies made.

I think Elros made his copy public, and it was well known across Numenor for many a year, until like many other things, it was lost in the Drowning. Possibly a little before when they wanted to distance themselves from the elves. I think it didn’t come back to Gondor and Arnor until Aragorn became king, a song he’d heard since childhood carefully transcribed in Elrond’s own hand.

With three verses added at the end.

One for Maedhros, lost to the fire.

One for Maglor, lost at sea.

And a final verse for Celebrimbor, caught in the Doom despite his kindness.

No wonder the Noldolantë didn’t make it into Pengolodh’s writings.

“Foolish child. Foolish, foolish child. What hubris of youth constrained you to swear as you did.” Maglor’s mutter turned to a harsh, echoing laugh, as his voice rose with the force of an ocean storm. With the fury of black waves. “Learn from our mistakes!” He cried. “Recall and learn! Let not arrogance and pride take you as it took us so long ago!”

Feel free to take this as a prompt! Please credit if you do :)

I think this will legitimately drive me insane if I spend any longer on it

Have a Mags cause it’s been too long since I drew my fav ^^

“Kanafinwë Makalaurë Maglor Fëanorion.”

Despite the dangerous tone that had once sent Morgoth’s armies fleeing, Maglor smiled innocently.

“Mhmm?”

Maedhros turned fully towards the younger, a thunderous look darkening the fair face. He held the phone to Maglor’s face.

“What. In Eru’s name. Is this.” He ground out.

“Fanfiction, brother dear. The name gives it away.” Maglor said with an offhanded wave, laughter threatening to break out despite the elder’s ever increasing rage.

Maedhros snapped.

“It’s MORGOTH’S WORK, THAT’S WHAT” He jumped up from the sofa, pacing back and forth, and Maglor was suddenly thankful that the walls were... somewhat soundproofed. “WHAT DEVILRY IS THIS THAT PORTRAYS THE EVENTS OF THE FIRST AGE IN SUCH A- A FRIVOLOUS MANNER-”

A string of curses followed as Maedhros ranted on and on about the inaccuracies, and Maglor fell off the sofa, clutching his stomach laughing. Maedhros glared daggers at him.

“You truly are the spawn of Morgoth, you know that?”

“Now now Maitimo, better not let Ammë hear you talk like that,” he replied, still laughing.

“I hate you.”

“You love me really.”

“I’m going to leave you here.”

“No you won’t.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.”

Maedhros frowned, crossing his arms as he stared at his younger brother lying on the floor, one leg on the sofa and his hair splayed wildly across the carpet. Maglor gave another innocent grin. Maedhros sighed.

“I will.”

Maglor’s grinned triumphantly, the spark in his eyes, so dull when Maedhros had arrived, finally growing brighter. Despite the reservations of his brother’s sanity, Maedhros gave a small smile back and dropped on the floor, leaning against the sofa

“But I’m warning you now. Anymore of that... whatever you want to call it, and I’ll toss you into the ocean myself. See how Ulmo treats you.”

“You’re the one who said he was first to appeal on my behalf,” Maglor retorted, “but fine. I suppose the last thing I need is to be done for another kinslaying.“

Maglor laughed again at his brother’s long suffering groan then sat up, a gentle smile taking the place of his grin.

“I’ve missed you Russandol.”

AKA: After several Ages, Maedhros is healed enough to be reembodied and given permission to hunt down his stubborn brother. Maglor isn’t quite ready to leave… but that’s ok. Maedhros can wait.

He could do without the horrors of modern day technology though.

It always gets me that literally *everything* hinged on the Fellowship getting this *right.* All the battles with Morgoth, Sauron, the events of the last Three Ages and beyond.

This was the final chance.

Either they succeed. Or all those battles and all that pain was for nothing, and Middle Earth falls to darkness.

And if ME does. It’s not far fetched to assume Valinor would be next.

-

But like it was always about the value of the little people. A value which historically, most people, the Princes of the First Age most of all, didn’t really… realise.

They dragged everyone into their wars and feuds and at the end of everything, everyone suffered for it.

They were out for themselves, because *they* wanted to be kings and queens, *they* wanted revenge, *they* wanted to go back to the wilds of Endorë and doomed everyone alongside them, cajoling and convincing them until they were riled up and probably not thinking straight.

They had to be right. If the rest of their people suffered for their bad decisions… too bad. There was so much pride and arrogance across the Sindar and Noldor both that their power, the thing that made them so great became their downfall.

The people of the Third Age, men and elves and dwarves, might have been ‘diminished’ but that meant they took time to appreciate their people. It means Aragorn at the Black gate sees there are young men from Rohan who are *terrified*, and entirely genuinely without judgement, allows them to leave. It means he goes around place to place, city to city, getting to know everyone as people. Seeing their value, seeing their worth as equal to his own. And he treats them accordingly as just as important rather than making everything about him.

It’s what allows him to deceive Sauron into thinking he’s acting as his ancestors did, proud and self assured whilst the whole quest and everything he does is about helping Frodo. About making sure he succeeds.

As he tells Frodo. “Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.” And that’s where these great heroes of the past fell short. For them, especially the elves of the First Age, everything was about valour and glory and victory. Literally Fëanor: ‘our deeds will be a matter of song until the last days of Arda.’

We needed the king who knew what it was to be a ranger, scorned despite being the only thing keeping them alive. The king who was a healer rather than a warlord. The man who only wanted his people safe, would pass all great deeds and live hated and homeless if only they could live without darkness.

The hobbits who were so pure of heart, who found joy in the little things. Even Legolas who would’ve grown up seeing Mirkwood steadily fall further and further into darkness, Spiders and orcs steadily encroaching, forcing the elves further into their last stronghold. The Dwarves who’d lost homes and knew their fortresses could only hold so long if Sauron enslaved everyone else.

All of these guys who held family and love for their people above all else. Who wanted a world free of war, who didn’t care for great deeds or ballads speaking of them. Who respected those of lesser official standing and saw them as people with opinions as valid as their own.

They just wanted their homes. They wanted their family and friends alive.

They longed for peace. Not glory or land.

And that’s where those of the First and Second Age failed.

Thingol, Luthien, and Dior’s claim to the silmaril bugs the living daylights outta me and I’m gonna break down why. This goes a bit beyond ownership laws.

Starting with basics. What are the silmarils? Gems created by Fëanor that hold the light of the Two Trees. Who in Beleriand saw the light of the trees and no doubt misses it like a limb? Are here in part to avenge their destruction? The Noldor.

The Sindar never went to Valinor. They might find the gems beautiful but that’s it. There’s no cultural or emotional connection to them beyond ‘pretty stone, look how awesome our princess was.’ There’s no appreciation for what they hold. No understanding that this stone is one of the *last* things that holds the ancient light of the Trees.

The Noldor meanwhile not only saw the Light, they had entire festivals surrounding it. Grew their entire culture, their lives, under and around it. Now the trees are destroyed, their king killed defending these jewels. And this last beacon of hope, a piece of the home they can never return to, a piece of light that will never come back, is being kept by people who can’t even begin to understand the significance of what they keep.

Now imagine being the sons of the one who made this jewel from a culture of people who value craft above all else.

Not only is it light, it’s the result of years of toil and experimentation of your father, the one who managed to do what no one had ever even thought of. Fëanor’s sons would have been the first to see these jewels, probably saw him make prototypes, work equations whilst they worked on their own crafts. Provided what relief they could to his ever working mind and inadvertently gave him ideas that helped solve problems he encountered along the way. Suddenly it’s not only a key part of their culture, it’s something core to their family.

Then Fëanor is killed and in many ways it’s the most important thing they have left of their father. Now it’s a source of memory too, for someone doomed to the Halls for eternity. Who they’ll likely never see again unless they’re killed.

Now from what I’ve heard, Tolkien says the Fëanorions lost their right to the Silmarils when they killed for them. Which makes no sense considering the Silmarils were *created* by Fëanor. Yes the light was created by the Valar, but what, you’re gonna say ‘I created electricity so that lightbulb you made is actually mine.’ That’s not how it works. Fëanor made the casing for the stones and figured out how to hold the light, without aid from the Valar. It doesn’t matter what actions they take, the right to the Silmarils remain theirs and theirs alone. The jewels hold no power of their own, they’re literally objects. Healing objects at most. Morals do not dictate their ownership, hallowed or not.

Tolkien going on to say the right of Doriath’s Silmaril actually goes to Beren and Luthien for taking it from Morgoth gives me frankly coloniser vibes.

‘Oh this thing I stole was originally stolen from you? Too bad. I took it so it’s mine now. Don’t care how important it is to you, your entire culture, and your people.’

Get where I’m coming from?

All in all the whole situation gives me Bad Vibes and I really don’t like the attitude the Sindar have to the Silmaril. In terms of Elwing, I can partly forgive her purely based on trauma response. Fine. Doesn’t make it right, but I understand. But that never would’ve been a problem if her father, grandmother, or great grandfather had the sense to acknowledge the silmaril was never theirs to keep. Don’t like the Fëanorions, (too bad) at least give it back to the Noldor.

What do you think would’ve happened if instead of the three Cs, Maedhros and Maglor had been the ones to fight Dior?

I mean we know they’re much more skilled and less bloodthirsty and rash than the rest of their brothers. So here’s an AU:

I think we’d see Mae and Mags come out on top, and assuming they’re out of the main hall, the rest of their brothers would probably make it out of Doriath alive. Elured and Elurin make it out with Elwing.

With all seven still around and watching each other’s backs, I imagine Sirion would be much the same, all all them surviving. The addition of Elwing’s brothers and their soldiers turning on them, *might* turn the tables just enough to kill a couple of Fëanorions, probably Celegorm and Curufin who are still bitter about Luthien and Dior. But I feel it’s more likely due to inexperience, Elured and Elurin are killed, not necessarily by the Fëanorions themselves.

The silmaril ends up with Elwing and we get the same situation of Maedhros and Maglor asking for it back and Elwing throwing herself off the cliff. Mae and Mags genuinely do not want to be here but the letters were refused and the Oath calls. Elwing probably knows her brothers were killed by word of mouth or seeing it herself and legged it.

Enter Elrond and Elros who’d have a more interesting (and fun) time of things with 5-7 sons of Fëanor around. Maedhros would back Maglor on caring for the twins though, less consumed by the oath with all his little brothers alive and kicking. And in canon he did go searching for Dior’s sons. Caranthir probably doesn’t really have an opinion on them, Amrod and Amras are willing to follow their brothers’ lead on things (also when are they ever gonna have a chance to see identical twins again. I think they’d get along pretty well.) I don’t see any of them being particularly hateful towards the kids. Celegorm and Curufin seem to be most susceptible to the Oath and giving in to their nastier sides might be a bit more of a problem, but there’s enough brothers to keep an eye on them. And I think they’d warm up eventually, reluctantly though it may be. Curufin was a father first, remember, it’s more natural for him to care than not.

Safe to say by the time Elrond and Elros go to Gil Galad, they’re very well trained in all manner of things 😂

As for the fate of the Fëanorions, they wouldn’t go for the last ditch attempt Mae and Mags did. From the eldest’s perspective, there’s too much to lose. I want to say the stones might be passed off to them, if only to prove a point, and whoever picks them up would no doubt be burned, but there’s no suicides. There’s no endless lamentation.

In reality though there’s probably still a battle by the chest, the oath awakened and clawing with the stones so close. There might be more of a push to bring them back to Valinor to stand trial, but they’re a force to be reckoned with and Eönwë knows they’d rather die than be dragged back. The Fëanorions are let go with the stones, but instead of being tossed away as the Valar expect, the chest is kept and they go on.

With the oath mostly fulfilled much of the weight across their fëa is gone, and Curufin and Celegorm head out to keep an eye on Celebrimbor. Elros might have a temporary tagalong in Maedhros and Caranthir (new kingdom needs someone with experience to get the economy up and running.) Maglor and both Ambarussa keep their distant eye on Elrond.

(Annatar didn’t expect the seven biggest pains in his Master’s back to greet him at Eregion’s gate, two Silmarils in tow, burning him to the core. Celebrimbor doesn’t know whether to be horrified or thankful. Back in Lindon, Elrond - the one who tipped them off - is cackling and Gil Galad is Concerned TM but decides he’s better off not knowing. His cousins are insane on the best of days.)

Alternatively, Elured and Elurin perhaps remembering how reluctant Maedhros and Maglor were, how Maedhros pleaded with their father to just return the stone so this could all *end*, immediately send the silmaril back when the letter comes. Or maybe they’re just cooler headed and see the logic of returning the stone. Things settle. The Valar do eventually get involved. Silmaril two and three are regained then reclaimed by the brothers as mentioned above. They might burn. They might reject the holders. But the oath is fulfilled and that’s all that matters in the end.

Ok a lil hc for why Curufin is so close to Fëanor and why the twins went to Beleriand.

So idk how many of you have seen twin pregnancies, and no doubt many of you will know more than me. But the ones I have seen were *exhausting* for the mother. Constantly tired, unable to do a whole lot, usually in some kind of pain be it back, ribs from the kicking babies, legs, hips, you name it. Not to mention the nausea. Nerdanel would have been absolutely shattered for most of her pregnancy, but by this point Fëanor is confident enough (has been reassured by Nerdanel over the last five pregnancies) that he’s ok leaving her to her own devices.

What this means though is Nerdanel doesn’t have a lot of energy to spare looking after her other children. Caranthir is old enough to happily stick with his brothers or sit with his embroidery, but little Curvo is around 5/6 equivalent and is very attached to his parents. Nerdanel suddenly not being able to do much creates a distance, neither of their faults, in which Fëanor steps in. This time spent with his father shapes Curufin’s interests and personality to make him embody his mother name. Atarinkë indeed, in more than just looks.

Now this temporary distance that should’ve started to close by the time Ambarussa were two or three is furthered because now is when Fëanor and Nerdanel start getting into arguments. At this point they’re small spats at most, nothing too serious, but Curufin who’s very attached to his now primary caregiver and distanced from the other, immediately takes Fëanor’s side. Again at this point both parents are still trying to get him close to his mother again, but it’s not going well and with how heated both parents get, it’s difficult to keep disagreements behind closed doors.

Then Curvo becomes a teen and it’s his father above all else. The time for change is passing, Fëanor and Nerdanel have started to spend days apart, days in which Maedhros and Maglor often take care of the twins so their mother can have a break, and Curufin sees this as another sign his mother isn’t worthy of their family. By the time we get to the banishment to Formenos, Curvo refuses to speak to Nerdanel, and whilst his brothers still send letters and occasionally go out to meet her, he burns the letters as soon as they come.

On a side note, the twins end up very very close to their oldest brothers because of this. It’s why they decide to go to Beleriand: their brothers, their primary caregivers, are all going. So they are too. They don’t know their mother well enough to stay.

Disclaimer: I adore Nerdanel and think she’s absolutely brilliant. You have to have some guts to not only marry Fëanaro Curufinwë, but then stick to your guns and refuse to follow him. And successfully wrangle seven very skilled, very opinionated sons. She’s the best and was no doubt an amazing mother, but the way things turned out just didn’t work in anyone’s favour.

Also to still be known as ‘the wise’ after marrying Fëanor and everything he did? Insane.

Fëanor was also a great father ok. At least until Morgoth really got in his head towards the end of their time in Aman. There’s a reason all his kids followed him to Beleriand.

Someone was like Maedhros has Eldest Daughter Syndrome and honestly? He totally does. Like I’m thinking specifically the kind you get as the eldest daughter in a brown family. I say this as a younger sister of That Eldest Daughter TM from an Indian family

Like tell me Finwëan drama isn’t prime Indian Family Drama TM down to the brothers fighting over their father’s inheritance. Just what goes down in Aman woudk make the plot for one of those 1000+ episode series’ with all the dramatic camera flashes 💀

Anyway, Mae sits very well in the eldest granddaughter role.

Eldest son/nephew/grandson who balances all the complicated politics and low-key raises his siblings and cousins. Admired and held as a role model for them. But also overworked and too tired for all this. Probably the one who stands up to the fathers/uncles/grandparents on behalf of everyone but himself.

(That’s what Maglor, Fingon, and Finrod do as the collective Second Oldest.)

Also this whole situation with the crown and competition being because of the Dad’s Side is also a very Indian, and from what I hear an Asian/Arab, thing 😂

Few things hit me deeper than how *tired* Mae and Mags are by the end.

Recently found out the Palantíri were gifted to the Numenorians by the Eldar and it’s given me *ideas.* So the Palantir were made by Fëanor right. And it’s safe to assume they were kept by the Fëanorians, unless Maedhros decided to gift one to Fingoflin for communication, but I don’t think that would’ve gone over well for anyone.

So here’s my two theories:

1. Each son of Fëanor has a set of Palantír. I think it’s safe to assume there were more than seven made? I think it’s written that Elendil managed to ‘save’ seven of them, but don’t quote me on that. (It doesn’t really matter, this works either way. Also imagine little Tyelpë on his tip toes facetiming his uncles 🥲)

When their various fortresses fall, most of the Fëanorions manage to save at least one of their seeing stones. When Maedhros and Maglor end up in Amon Ereb alone, they have all their brothers’ Palantir but no use for them.

Enter Elrond and Elros. They come to love them, care for them. And vice versa. When they’re sent to Gil Galad, Mae and Mags send these pieces of their family with them. Maybe they can find some good use for them, a final legacy for Fëanor that doesn’t end in blood. Maybe it’ll keep them safe.

(I’ll go into detail of how they end up in Numenor below)

2. Celebrimbor ended up with Curufin’s Palantir in Nargothrond, and Mae and Mags sent the rest his way at some point before their final Silmaril run. They don’t have anything else, and their nephew deserves something made before madness consumed their family. Something made out of pure curiosity rather than pride that doesn’t have too many bad memories attached.

Celebrimbor appreciates the gesture but has no real use for them. He’s not particularly ambitious as a lord. Doesn’t have any need for immediate long distance communication, and in all honesty would likely be accused of spying if he did start using them (no matter if that isn’t how they work.)

Then he hears that Elros, who he’s gotten to know fairly well alongside Elrond over the years of the War of Wrath, is heading off to Numenor. He decides to give the new King something as a token of their friendship, and to keep in touch with his twin from a distance, the way the sons of Fëanor once did. And unlike many others, they won’t scorn his grandfather’s work.

Elros is managing a pretty large kingdom, so he takes the bulk of them. Elrond keeps one.

Later on, Elrond’s (not used since the death of Elros’ children) is lost in the fall of Eregion when he desperately tried to use it to find Celebrimbor. And of course Elendil manages to bring seven Palantir to Middle Earth when Numenor falls.

In the end, Maglor spends more time asleep than awake.

He finishes the final note of the Noldolantë, recited as many times as it has verses, and collapses at last.

But Elven bodies are slow to fade, the High Elven Sons of Fëanaro slowest of all, and it takes thousands of years to so much as weaken. Ulmo takes pity on the Singer who’s haunted his shores longer than he’s had a home, and covers him in a sandy shelter until his fëa finally departs, yearning for the family lost long ago.

The Vala makes Kanafinwë’s tomb at the base of what was once Himring. He doesn’t know where the elf will go, but perhaps his empty hröa might find peace under the shade of his older brother’s fortress as it had so long ago. And perhaps his fëa, wherever it is, will get a measure of that peace too.

-

Fiery red hair and a laugh he thought he’d never hear again. Warm arms wrapping tightly around him.

“Outlived us all, huh little brother?”

Sometimes I think of Maglor going from being a prince of the Noldor with a large, comfortable house full of family, then ending up alone on a beach, no roof over his head, nothing to keep his safe and warm. The only comfort his memories when he sleeps.