Notes on Keeping the Children Alive, by Maedhros Feanorian

Notes on the Care and Keeping of the Peredhel, by Maglor Feanorian:

The story of Gil-Galad being invited to Elrond and Elros's adoption ceremony, and the story of how such an adoption ceremony came to be in the first place. Featuring eldritch Peredhel, M&M's questionable decisions, and Feanorian followers doing their best.

[Written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2024 for the wonderful art #101 by @jaz-the-bard]

This is one my my three pieces for this year’s Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang! I had a great time working on the collaboration, and I hope you’ll enjoy this Kidnap Fam longfic, with angst, fluff, and everything in-between.

Another note on the Silm-as-hobbits AU:

Instead of half-elves, Elrond and co. are Dwobbits, so instead of making the choice to be mortal or immortal, they have to make the Dwobbit choice.™️

The Dwobbit choice is whether or not they grow a beard. They can always cut it or grow one later, so it isn't permanent. It also has very little bearing on their day-to-day lives.

It is treated exactly as seriously as the Peredhel choice is in canon by everyone except for the actual Dwobbits, who think everyone else is being insane.

Maglor, tearful: Ai, Elros, my child, I do not understand why you've made this choice, and I grieve for it, though I respect it.

Elros: Dad. I grew facial hair. Calm down.

Glorfindel: Elrond, does it ever sadden you to be sundered from your dear twin? Do you ever miss him??

Elrond: ...

Elrond: Glorfindel, you know Elros lives down the street, right?? He was at tea with us yesterday.

When people say that Melian looks like an elf, they're mostly just being charitable. It's clear, of course, that she tried very hard to make herself a proper elvish form– pointed ears, long, graceful limbs, flowing hair. But it's just... a little off. Like an artist's stylization of an elf, rather than the actual thing. Her ears are too long, set at the wrong angle, and they often move as though they have a mind of their own. The way she moves is graceful, certainly, but it is the grace of the wind or the waves, not of an elf. And no one can ever render her hair right in pictures– it has a volume and shine to it that it really shouldn't.

It is these features which Melian passes, with very little contribution from Thingol, on to her daughter. Luthien is beautiful, yes, but no less strange than her mother. And so it goes with Dior, with Elwing, with Elros and Elrond– Melian's own attempts to feign at elvishness mark them all with eeriely similar faces and forms. It takes a couple dozen generation of Numenorian kings before her features really disappear from the line.

Elrond, in particular, is not sure how to feel about this. Particularly on the days he looks in the mirror and sees his mother, but can't see himself.

So Elrond and Elros are six when the Third Kinslaying happens, right? Given that they're half-elves, they might be "younger" than a human six-year-old, more in-line with elven development. For children that young, memories are often patchy and foggy. I certainly don't remember much from the first six years of my life. Add childhood trauma, which can distort or suppress memories, and there's a pretty good argument that Elrond and Elros might not really remember Sirion, or their parents.

And that idea... really gets to me. There's so much to explore there in terms of grief, and guilt, and the desire to live up to the legacy of someone you never even knew. There's also an asymmetry there– E&E's parents remember them. Hell, Earendil might be able to look down on them in Middle-Earth while Vingilot is in the heavens. But Elrond can never look back.

Maedhros, teaching Elrond and Elros about the history of the Noldor: years ago, at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, I lost my cousin and best friend, Fingon, the High-King of the Noldor. 😔

Fingon, watching from Mandos: Russandol what the FUCK were you thinking with Doriath and Sirion?! And with kidnapping my brother's great-grandkids?!!

Maedhros: sometimes I can still hear his voice... 😔😔😔

Maitimo has visions, up on the mountainside. (At least, he'd like to think they're visions, and not hallucinations or figments of his scattered mind). He sees wide open plains, covered with spring flowers. Green forests full of birdsong, clear mountain rivers. Two children– who can only be his– with his gray eyes and proud, Finwean features, who follow him around like little ducklings.

Those visions are what keep him from succumbing to despair, during the long, cold nights on the cliffs. The idea that one day, he will be free again, that he'll roam Middle-Earth, that he'll have a family and children like he's always wanted to. That's enough for him.

He holds onto that hope, over the long years of his recovery, and the as the Long Peace grinds on, he really believes that things will get better. That he'll be able to fulfill the Oath, cast off the Doom of the Noldor, and live happily in the free lands of Middle-Earth.

And then the Bragollach happens, and the Nirnaeth, and the Second Kinslaying. And it dawns on Maedhros, slowly, and then all at once, that there is no way out for him. That there was never a way out for him. That the visions on the cliffside were never real and neither was his hope. After that, the only thing still dragging Maedhros on is the relentless pull of the Oath.

And then, after Sirion, Maedhros looks through Elwing's tower, searching vainly for the Silmaril. He doesn't find it. He does find two small children with dark hair, gray eyes, and their father's Finwean features. He recognizes them. He's not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Unwritten Fics game

I was tagged by @runawaymun to talk about all my as-of-yet unwritten fic ideas! I have many, many of them. Here are a few. Feel free to send me asks about any of them, or to tell me which ones you'd most like to read in the tags!

No pressure, but I'm going to second Runawaymun's tagging of @jaz-the-bard (I don't think they've done the game yet but I might've missed it on their blog)

Part Three of "Earendil Drank the Silmaril" AU- Kidnap Fam edition

M&M do not know that the light of the Silmaril is now part of Earendil, or that his children inherited some of it. Not consciously, anyway. But there is something oddly familiar about the children, when Maglor finds them, alone in the woods.

(The escort Elwing sent them away with hadn't been the most trustworthy, and unfortunately, two frightened children had slowed their progress towards Gil-Galad's camp too much.)

Maglor sees the shining eyes and the light that springs to their fingertips, and assumes that part-Maia children are just like that– he's certainly heard far stranger about Luthien. Maglor was always going to take them in– he'd at least like to think that leaving two defenseless children to die is still beyond him– but there's also something odd. Before he can really think about whether it would be possible to send them to Gil-Galad, he's already dismissed the idea. It slips from his mind like water. He doesn't connect that to the Oath– normally, it's compulsions are violent and impossible to ignore.

(But of course, the Oath knows the truth about Elrond and Elros. M&M always say that it would be impossible to return them to Gil-Galad's camp. They're only right most of the time.)

Still, the story goes on, as it must, and love does grow between Elrond, Elros, and the monsters who care for them. Actually, things do look up for the Feanorians after E&E come to Amon Ereb. The plants grow much more easily, even in the tainted soil. They run into orc patrols less and less. Injuries heal, even when they really shouldn't. Some of the Feanorians speak of divine intervention on behalf of the children, others think that it's the twins' Mairin magic at work. Even the Oath seems to fall silent. M&M put it down to parental love.

(Elrond and Elros are, if not exactly required for the Oath to be fulfilled, then at least close enough to a Silmaril to quiet it for a time.)

None of them ever figure it out. Eventually, Maedhros and Maglor do send their children away, when it's become clear that all that's left for the Feanorians is death and grief.

Maglor watches as they leave, tears in his eyes, and thinks he finally understands what it means to be condemned to eternal darkness, now that his precious little stars are gone.

Continuation of the "Earendil drank the Silmaril AU"–

TW for the Sirion kinslaying and Elwing's attemped suicide

Elwing's advisors encourage her to be strong, not to give the Silmaril to the Feanorian murderers. Of course, none of them know that she couldn't hand it over, even if she wanted to. She tries not to think about what would happen if the Feanorians saw the empty shell of the Silmaril, drained of light. She tries not to think about what they might do to Earendil, if they found out the light lives within him now.

She doesn't really have any options. She cannot give them the Silmaril; she will not yield her husband to the monsters who killed her parents. She encourages Earendil to go on another of his voyages. She tells him that she's confident the Feanorians won't have the guts to actually attack them. She's lying. The day after he leaves, she makes plans to evacuate all those in Sirion who aren't ready and willing to die there.

Not long after, she receives another letter, one that practically radiates anger. That night, she holds her children– her wonderful, sweet children who have feathers behind their ears and starlight at their fingertips. The next day, she plans to have them sent away from Sirion. She knows it won't be long now.

She's still not ready, when the Feanorians come. There aren't many people left in Sirion. There aren't many Feanorians left either. But the fighting is fierce, all old hatred and festering pain. She'd hoped to have another day– just one more, to hide the remnants of the Silmaril. When Maedhros sees her carrying the cracked orb, wrapped in fabric, she knows it's over.

Maybe he can tell, even through the fabric, that something is wrong with the Silmaril, maybe he can't. Either way, he runs after her with burning eyes and a his oath on his lips. She's not quite sure where her feet are taking her until she finds herself at the cliff's edge. She turns, stares out at the stormy sea. When she looks back, there is something almost like horror on Maedhros's face, but all she feels in an eerie calm.

She thinks about her children. She hopes they made it out alright. She hopes they'll find someone else to look after them, when she's gone.

Silm AU Concept that Won't Leave me Alone:

Earendil falls ill, not long after his marriage. None of the healers in Sirion– human or elven– can explain why. Maybe it's because Idril and Tuor left for Valinor recently, and no one really thinks they'll make it there alive. Maybe it's the plague that's been sweeping through war-torn Beleriand. Maybe his body is just giving up on him– it's not unheard of for half-elves to die that way.

And it's becoming clear that Earendil is dying. Nothing they do helps. Some of Elwing's advisors try to keep her away from his bedside– half out of fear his illness is contagious and half because she spends all her time there, refusing to eat or rest. They're trying to protect her from the horrible truth. It isn't working.

Elwing knows of two great sources of magic. One is her own– inherited from Melian, running far stronger in her blood than any had expected, far stronger than it had in her father. Strong enough that she's spent most of her life learning to hide it. Flowers bloom under her feet, birds flock to her side. Elwing is powerful, but she's young; untrained. She tries to help Earendil. She fails.

And then there is the Silmaril. The Silmaril's power is not like hers. It does not make things grow, or bring the birds and gentle beasts of the world to their doorstep. But it drives away the orcs, keeps the wolves at bay, cuts through the darkness, burns away evil. It is a much more violent kind of purification.

And Elwing thinks, is it not evil coursing through my husband's veins, choking his lungs, threatening to tear him away from me?

She takes the Silmaril and pries it open with a dagger, pouring it's divine light into the abalone-shell cup that Idril had given her before she sailed away. She gives it to Earendil, comforts him, climbs into bed beside him. They hold each other, whisper their marriage vows again in the darkness. When Elwing drifts into sleep, she doesn't know if he'll still be there when she wakes up.

And then Earendil wakes up with clear, bright eyes. It works. It works very well. It works so well that Elwing has to teach Earendil how to hide the new light in his eyes and the shimmer under his skin.

Elwing keeps the Silmaril hidden away after that. Some whisper that she's become obsessed with it, just as her father had. In truth, she's just trying to hide the fact that the gem has no light left. Somehow, she doubts her advisors would approve of her decision.

But she doesn't care, and neither does Earendil. They are happy, and in love. Not long after Earendil's recovery– a recovery most think was a miracle sent by the Valar– they have children. Two very strange children with sharp teeth and bright eyes who they love very much.

It looks like everything will work out for Elwing's little family, right until the day the first letter from Maedhros Feanorian arrives.

There were quite a few people who absolutely refused to believe Elrond and Elros were who they claimed to be when they first came to Gil-Galad's camp. This led to the rise of several extremely questionable theories on who they really were, from the more mundane– they're just two half-elves the Feanorians found somewhere– to the more... esoteric, like that Maglor had "sung them into existence" to fool the armies of Valinor into letting them steal the Silmarils.

The most popular theory was that Elrond and Elros were actually the children of Maglor and Daeron of Doriath, and that they'd been kept secret for... some reason– look I never said the conspiracy theories made sense. E&E look a lot like Luthien (Luthien and Daeron are siblings with pretty similar features) and a bit like Fingolfin (who looks like Feanor who looks like Maglor), so it's not totally implausible. It would also explain how E&E had Maia powers without being Elwing's kids. And that was just enough information for it to become a completely unkillable rumor. Most of it dies down after E&E show some clearly human traits, like getting sick, but there are still die-hard believers out there. Some genealogies from the early Third Age list Elrond as Daeron and Maglor's child.

Elrond, who's been confronted about his "real parents" several times, is very over it. Gil-Galad thinks it's extremely funny.

For Day Two of Feanorian Week: Maglor -> Elrond & Elros, Maglor's Gap

Maglor swept through the halls of Amon Ereb, trying not to worry. He’d told himself, over and over, that Elrond and Elros were fine. Sure, they hadn’t been in their rooms this morning, but that was alright. They were allowed to explore the fortress, and they knew that it wasn’t safe to try and leave, and nothing dangerous could’ve gotten in and hurt them, and they were fine. Still, no matter what he tried, he couldn’t quite stop the vaguely ill feeling rising in the back of his mind. His ability to remain calm had been shot since his father’s death. And while he wouldn’t trade Elrond and Elros for anything, parenthood had only made the problem worse...

Read the rest here on a03!

I don't know if this is what Tolkien intended, but whenever I picture Maglor's Gap I picture it in the spring; a meadow in full bloom, with colorful flowers and gentle bumblebees. While Himring is icy for much of the year, the lower plains around it are warm and welcoming for a good few months in the spring and summer, and have much milder falls and winters.

I feel like it's important for Maglor's Gap to be not just a strategic choke point, but a genuinely beautiful piece of Beleriand that Maglor and his followers loved dearly. Somewhere they thought of as a home. Somewhere they eulogized in songs long after it was destroyed.

Maglor sings of the Gap, in the Noldolante, but the only part of it remembered there is the part where it was scorched into nothingness.

But he also told Elrond and Elros about his old home; keeping its better memories alive. Elrond, as Gil-Galad's minstrel in the Second Age, often sings songs about the wildflowers and songbirds of the Gap in Spring. Not many know that's what he's singing about, but he does, and that's enough.

Elrond hides from the stars, at first. Morgoth's hazy corruption hid the sky, at Amon Ereb, and the Feanorians didn't spend much time outside at night anyway– it was dangerous, even for hardened warriors.

Maedhros and Maglor taught them about the stars of course, they were determined to give E&E education befitting of elvish princes, and no such education could be complete without thorough studies of both astronomy and the elvish star lore from the days of Cuivienen. Still, while they could chart the course of any star across the sky, and tell the tale of any constellation, E&E rarely actually got to see the stars.

They could, on rare nights when the smog wasn't so bad, see Gil-Estel, brightest of them all, faintly shining through the haze. They knew what it was. They didn't know what to think about it. The Feanorians didn't like discussing it, so E&E didn't either.

But then, Elrond and Elros left the Feanorians. Maedhros and Maglor sent them away from just about everyone and everything they'd ever known. They came to Gil-Galad's camp as traumatized children who were treated as objects of curiosity, veneration, even suspicion. Eyes follow them everywhere, and their gaze is never neutral– always approving or disapproving, angry or joyful, awed or fearful.

Gil-Galad's camp, guarded by Maiarin soldiers, is nearly free of Morgoth's corruption. For the first time, E&E see the light of the sun and moon in their full glory. They also see Gil-Estel, burning brightly against the dark sky; no faint light.

Elrond doesn't like it. He feels like Gil-Estel is watching him. When he tries to explain this to Gil-Galad, he's met with sympathy– of course Earendil is watching over him. But Gil-Galad doesn't understand.

Elrond hasn't gotten used to being watched, being evaluated, at Gil-Galad's camp. He'd never felt that way at Amon Ereb– where there had been far fewer elves and his presence had quickly become normal. All those elves watching him now? Viscerally uncomfortable. And the thought of the father he barely remembers being another set of eyes judging him is unbearable. After all, what if Earendil doesn't like what he sees?