The library of a bird

Welcome to my blog. I write for Tolkien and try to share love for other wonderful blogs. The requests are currently closed.

[animatorweirdo]

Master list

(Here’s a masterlist for you to have better access. Sorry if it’s not the most pleasing to the eye, but at least you don’t have to scroll anymore)

Requests closed / questions allowed

Oneshots and series

Headcanons and shorts 

Headcanon stories

General headcanons

Crack fics

My Oc’s

[lamemaster]

Elves as Host Club Members

AN: Do not ask why. Should I do a Maiar or Valar version? (not a russingon shipper but this was funny)

Context: While reading ancient scrolls about Finrod's time among the Secondborn, he discovered an interesting tale: a host club. Fired by this new knowledge, he set out to create Valinor's version of it.

Maedhros and Fingon: The Taboo Incestuous CouSINS

How Finrod convinced them remains a mystery. While elves marrying distant family is not unheard of, it is, ahem, not brought up much. *cough*cough* Maeglin*cough*

Maedhros did not truly see the charm. And Fingon could not hold his laughter in, but loved the drama of it.

"Oh Russo, do not leave me alone," Fingon swooned, as their first guest sat drinking their tea.

Maedhros, perfectly in custody of his silver tongue, cupped his cousin's cheek, leaning in with passion that was entirely uncalled for. "I would never. You are my king, Finno."

Finrod didn't even need a script for them.

Turgon: The Vice President/Mommy

As a former king of Gondolin, Turgon naturally assumed the role of main governing body. Be it planning special events, reigning in Finrod's extravagant plans, or contracting Caranthir for merchandise plushies, Turgon has it all handled.

Especially since he cannot and will not tolerate a flop ball or feast in Tirion.

It also helps that he has the most sworn lords and unimaginable amounts of blueprints from his time in Middle Earth. What did not happen ages ago can be enacted now.

Glorfindel: The Main Character/ Daddy

He says yes even before he learns the role. Valinor is boring, and Glorfindel knows better than to voice that complaint without inviting kinslayer allegations.

So he prances into the first host club rehearsal, his glorious hair unbraided and voluminous, everyone's problem.

As the local asexual elf, he relishes unlimited flirting without any implications of binding or betrothals. He is here for a good time, and making one for others.

Finwe: The Lolita

As the oldest and most immature youthful of the Noldor, Finwe provides the innocent charm of the host club.

How the Valar let him out to be there is beyond anyone. But Finrod was more than happy to let his grandfather grab a nepotism spot.

Not that anyone could have denied Finwe with a permission slip from Manwe.

Finwe's charm is that of the oblivious grandfather who laughs at everything. But be not fooled.

The gramps can charm anyone and everyone. He is, after all, the only elf who married twice.

Fingolfin: The Mysterious Hunk

As soon as Finwe joins the club, Fingolfin simply materializes.

He is the shadow to the most ancient member of the club, following after his father because he cannot fathom walking in on whatever Maedhros and Fingon are up to. And they do tend to behave around Finwe.

Fingolfin's got his huge fanclub. Most of them are elves coming to see the hero who fought Melkor and injured the most powerful Vala.

His table is always brimming with tributes and tokens of appreciation.

Elrond: The Normal One

They just sort of drag him in. As the rare Peredhel in Valinor, Elrond is the most unique of the host club members.

He can be found most days hovering by Turgon, planning events, or talking to elflings who want to know about the Secondborn, or about his father, Earendil, who is the brightest star in their skies.

He comes to enjoy the club more than he wanted to admit. Days spent there help him not miss Arwen so much.

And so Finrod's latest venture in Valinor came be another gleaming success.

[animatorweirdo]

Hey, any idea how Mina’s been?"

Still no. Sorry.

[animatorweirdo]

Item: An Old Key Rarity: ⏶ Common

What games have opened doors for you in real life?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

Well, playing games helped me learn English. And I played a lot of different games in English.

[animatorweirdo]

Hiii I just wanna say that my friend and I love your works a lot!!! 💗 I think that they're super well written as well as creative and the fact that we're able to read it for free is amazing 💖💗 I also wanna remind you to please take care of yourself (especially during these trying times)

Aww, thank you 😊❤ That makes me so happy to hear. Make sure you and your friend take care of yourselves, too💕

[animatorweirdo]

Hola, sé que no vas a responder a esta pregunta, pero solo quiero saber si Mina está bien. Es que no ha dicho nada desde entonces y me está empezando a preocupar. También dijo que tuvo algunos problemas y que una publicación que mencionó antes se corrompió. Espero que esté bien. Me siento muy mal cada vez que un escritor no anuncia su ausencia o se va sin avisar, y últimamente me tiene muy preocupada. Es una de las mejores escritoras de fanfiction que he visto en este fandom. Espero que vuelva pronto mina ❤️‼️.

(Perdón si te molesté, pero estoy muy preocupada por ella. Disculpa mi mal inglés).

Not sure if this was intentional, but your message appeared in Spanish to me, which I unfortunately don't speak 😓 I used Google Translate to understand that you were asking about Mina or @doodle-pops, as her blog name is. (Do correct me if I'm wrong. )

Unfortunately, I still have no idea how she's doing. She has been MIA for a while. I tried messaging her, but no answer. I am worried about her, too, and hope it's just life that's keeping her busy.

[animatorweirdo]

Five More Minutes

It was a sunny morning. Your lover has duties to do, but you feel like cuddling a bit longer.

Warnings: fluff, lover referred to as they/them, and reader showing cat behaviour.

-------------------------------------------------------

Rays of sunlight beam from the balcony. The songs of morning birds slowly wake you up from your slumber. You lie on top of your lover's chest in your ocelot form. The sound of your lover's beating heart and their distinct scent fills your mind with a sense of calm and relaxation. It was enough to make you start purring subconsciously.

Though it might look strange, it was easier to move around unnoticed in your feline form. You and your lover are private about your relationship. And in your world, spending time with your lover in your animal form was considered one of the highest forms of trust and affection.

And, honestly, the cuddles with your lover in your animal form felt incredibly nice and addictive. You finally understood why the mortals in your world gushed so much about being held by their larger partners.

Your lover had also let you know that stroking their hand across your spotted fur and ears felt relaxing. They always found your ocelot form fascinating, as it was a type of feline they had never seen before. Thus, another reason why you liked staying in that form around your lover.

A yawn left your lover as their eyes opened.

Your lover looked at you and smiled. "Good morning, (Name)," they said, stroking your ears.

You purred in response, nearly melting under their touch.

"It looks like a sunny day. A good time to get up early," your lover stated.

You stopped purring and locked your eyes with them. They have learned to read your animal form's body language long enough, so you had no doubts they understood what you wanted. Just five more minutes.

Your lover looked at you softly. "I would like to stay and cuddle a bit more. But you know I like to get up early. So, please can you get off?" they asked.

You pleaded with your eyes more and made no intentions to move from your spot.

"Don't make me pick you off myself," your lover warned.

Knowing their work wasn't that urgent, an idea popped into your mind. The corners of your lips twitched into a small grin, which your lover noticed immediately.

"I know that grin. What's on your mind?" your lover asked.

Slowly, you grew your feline body in size.

"(Name). No. Get off!" your lover said as they tried to pick you up, but as your size grew, so did your weight. They managed to push you up a little before you became the size of a jaguar, making your lover plop down against the mattress with you on top of them. You were careful to shift your weight around to avoid crushing them.

"(Name)! You're too heavy!" your lover yelped beneath you.

Your lover struggled beneath you for a moment before giving up and lying beneath you.

Your lover stared back at you while you still held the cheesy grin on your face.

"You're lucky you're cute," they stroked behind your ears, making you purr.

"Okay. Five more minutes," they said, and you flicked your tail in happiness.

"Sometimes I wonder if you are actually a god or simply a cat with godly powers," your lover remarked.

"But then you get off. I don't want to explain why I have a giant cat on my bed!"

[animatorweirdo]

The Vala of The Underworld

Summary: This is the tale of a Vala, who was the quietest of the Ainur, yet given the most important task.

Warnings: reader and the demons having a bad rep, Melkor, mentions of corruptions, infections, some inaccuracies, passing judgment on sinners, and a disappearance.

--------------------------------------------------------

There are many stories about the Ainur.

Angelic beings born from the thoughts of Ilúvatar, who in the shaping of the world became known as the Valar and the Maiar. Their deeds are remembered in countless songs and tales, and their names are spoken wherever the lore of Arda is preserved.

The stories tell of Manwë, dearest to Ilúvatar, the lord of the winds and the airs above the world. The chosen High King of the Valar.

They tell of Varda, Manwë's spouse, the Star-Kindler, who set the lights of heaven in their courses and whose name is beloved among Elves and Men. 

They tell of Aulë the Smith, master of crafts and stones of the earth, and of Yavanna Kementári, giver of fruits and maker of all things that grow and root in the soil of Arda. 

They tell of the Fëanturi, Námo, Irmo, and their sister Nienna, masters of spirits and dreams, whose halls lie in the far West. 

They tell of Ulmo, lord of the seas, whose voice is in all waters that move through the world. 

They tell of Oromë the Hunter and Tulkas the Champion, whose strength and laughter once drove the darkness from the young earth.

And the stories tell of Melkor— the mightiest of the Ainur—whose pride grew beyond the music of Ilúvatar, and who sought dominion over all Arda, desiring to make himself its sole ruler.

These are the tales most often remembered.

Yet among the Ainur, there was one of whom little is told about… 

There was a vala, who ruled over a world beneath Arda’s crust, appointed as an overseer of a task given by Ilúvatar himself. 

This vala is known as the Vala of the Underworld.

The Underworld was a realm where the souls of sinners were taken to face judgment and be purified in its flames. Its denizens were called demons, creatures that were not born from Ilúvatar’s thoughts, but from his sibling, the void. They, along with the fire that also acted as the heart of the realm, swore their allegiance to the realm's ruler. 

Little is known about the Vala of the Underworld. The rumors say that they were an Ainu, chosen by the children of the void, and acted as the head judge of the trials that took place in the realm’s court. 

There is no clear description of their appearance as they do not reside on Arda's earth, allowing them to be depicted in many terrifying forms. Even the Valar themselves have claimed the Underworld's ruler does not reside in a singular form, most likely having adopted the shapeless way of life of their subjects. And does not often appear in the Valar's halls despite the invitations.

Though the ruler of the underworld has done no evil to the world or the children of Ilúvatar, their existence sparked fear and the birth of many rumors. The rumors even depict the Vala of the Underworld possessing a nature of cruelty. That their heart was dark and cold like the dark lord's. And the tales of the demons have given fear to those who wander alone in the night. 

However, those stories are far from the actual tale. To truly understand the Vala of the Underworld is to go back to the very beginning, back to the timeless halls and way before the song that brought Arda into existence. 

The story begins with you. 

You are an Ainu like the rest of your kind, quiet in nature and satisfied with existing in the background. You sang with the others whenever your father asked, your voice harmonious but not too loud to overpower the others. You are younger than those who came before you, but older than those who came after. 

You got along fine with your kin but often had difficulty connecting with them, finding more delight in your own thoughts and wandering. You were, what mortals would have called, a ‘Wallflower’ among your kin. 

This didn’t bother you. You felt satisfied with what you already had, though curiosity often left you wandering to places you shouldn’t venture to. 

You loved your father as the rest of the Ainur did. You often wandered to his side whenever his thoughts brought forth something new, curiously watching and asking about creation. Your father never minded your curious nature, letting you observe and learn.

The rebellious nature of Melkor was not unknown to you. You were there to witness his many rebellious acts, even though his reasons for them eluded you. 

From what you have seen, Melkor used to get along wonderfully with your father and Manwë, but then his nature suddenly changed, gaining an odd desire to become the loudest voice in your choir. His voice was filled with strength that dominated all the other voices and silenced many, leaving you feeling unpleasant emotions.

You did not understand those emotions back then. All you knew was that Melkor was the cause and that you didn’t like them. 

You were also aware that Melkor often wandered to a place called the void, somewhere your father had forbade you from going without permission.

Despite your willingness to follow rules. The void piqued your curiosity, which then eventually got the best of you, taking you there. Though you made sure to only go when Melkor himself had returned, wanting to avoid his presence. 

The void was dark and absent of any light. But then, you found creatures without shape or soul. Bearing light only in their eyes through the lightless darkness. Their forms should have terrified you, but oddly enough, you didn’t find yourself scared. On the contrary, you found them fascinating. 

They introduced themselves as the children of the void, your father’s sibling, and welcomed you to their realm. You even had the chance to meet the void itself. They caused you no fear, as you had learned from your father that everything had an opposite. Even though their domain was in the absence of light, your father’s sibling bore no ill will to him or you, his creations. From them, you heard many intriguing stories and learned to understand the negative emotions Melkor's discord sometimes caused you.

There, you also learned more about Melkor’s visit and how he had unintentionally infected some of the children of the void. Apparently, he was looking for the flame imperishable, the same power that allowed your father to bring forth creation. The eldest of your kin felt great anger, greed, envy, and things that were the opposite of good emotions. 

The children of the voids felt emotions differently and had a nature to adopt things they came across. Melkor's darker emotions blinded them with hatred toward the light and hunger that caused them a great deal of pain. This had forced the embodiment of the void to contain them so they would not try to enter your father’s realm and possibly hurt you. 

You felt great pity for them. Though you did not possess the power to cure them, you comforted them with your singing. It was something you did on your own for the first time. 

Your singing seemed to ease their ailment, so you began visiting them in secret, as your father and kin would likely prevent you if they knew. In the void, you sang to them and listened to their stories. Your father’s sibling approved your visits because your gentle nature allowed the children to adopt more positive emotions and resist Melkor’s infection. Some of the children of the void even began waiting for you at the border of the void, waiting patiently.

Perhaps for the first time, you found it easy to connect with someone, and even began to prefer their company over your own kind. 

However, as time passed, your kin suddenly became divided. Some have decided to take Melkor’s side, while most have decided to keep their loyalty to your father. Watching from the sidelines and listening to the rumors that passed through among your kin, you knew that Melkor was responsible and was inciting unnecessary discord. 

But it seems he had also become aware of your wanderings into the void. Because on one of your visits to see your friends, Melkor made himself known and began talking to you, something you preferred not to do. 

You answered his questions about your friendship with the children of the void, though telling him little, as you did not intend to tell him everything.

You then decided to ask why he was so keen to acquire the same power to create like your father. What is it he desires so much to create?

His answer to your question left you baffled. He said strange words and claimed your father was purposely keeping the Flame imperishable to himself, restricting you all from making things of your own. But his answer on what he wanted to create was nothing compared to the creations your father taught you about.  

The creations Melkor spoke about did not sound like creations at all, but puppets that extended his will and mind. 

He then said how you and the children of the void could join his side. He spoke about how they trusted you and how you would no longer be overlooked or be the quiet one.

You countered this by telling him that you felt no negative emotions about being the quiet one, as it was your nature. And if he wanted the children of the void to stand by his side, then he should ask them himself instead of assuming you had some strange control over them.

But then Melkor told you about gaining control over beings and said how some beings should be tied to a will. You are not sure how, but this caused you to feel angry for the first time in your life. 

Though you preferred to keep your distance and avoid confrontations, you decided to speak up to him. You told him how his intended creations were not true beings as they lacked free will, a fundamental part of being alive. And how he has pushed everyone aside for his own pursuit, even infecting the children of the void, who had nothing to do with his goals.

You pointed out how he desires to create something where no one else's ideas are allowed to flourish, and that he feels threatened by anyone else having their own free will. 

Perhaps the only reason he wanted the Flame Imperisable was that he was afraid of what your father could do. Your father could easily reshape him to be something else, but has not, despite his many rebellious acts. That this should be proof enough of your father's love for you all.

Melkor seemed angered by your response. 

The darkness around him grew great, and for a moment, you felt afraid that you would face his famous wrath. But then you decided not to fear and stand your ground, even if you were no match for his power. 

This seemed to surprise him. The others of your kind were accustomed to turning away from what they did not understand, letting his discord pass rather than confronting it. You had done it too. But this time, you chose not to do such a thing and look him in the eyes despite what he could do to you.

And you were not alone.

One of your friends watched intensely from the other side of the border, waiting. 

Melkor backed away, though with a sneer. Before leaving, he stated how all things will bend in the end. Even you.

You felt relieved after he left. Relieved that nothing happened, and a little proud of yourself for standing up to him. 

Your friend spoke to you proudly and appreciated you for defending their honor. You appreciated the gesture, though it left you worried about what Melkor might try next. 

Time passed. 

Then your father called you all forth, showing the vision of Arda, a realm created by your unified song. He told you about the children who will inhabit it and the songs that will be sung. You all will act as its caretakers. Your brethren were eager to go, and once it was brought to existence, they all departed the timeless halls, even Melkor, though you suspect his intentions for Arda were less than good. 

However, you decided to stay. You had no desire to create, and you did not wish to leave your friends in the void. 

Your father then called you forth. 

“My quiet one. Though you often stay behind among your kin, never ask for much, and wander on your own. I have seen you accept those who are not like you and defend them without asking anything in return,” he spoke, letting you know he had been aware of your wanderings to the void. 

You apologized for breaking the rules and explained that the children of the void were not evil at heart. You couldn’t look away from their pain, and it was not in your nature to reject those different from you. 

Your father only looked at you softly, seemingly happy with your answer. “For that, I wish to give you an important task,” he then said. 

You listened as he spoke. 

“You know Melkor’s nature… He desires to make things in his own designs. He believes he’s going against my visions and thoughts, even though the truth is far from it. He will cause great harm and turn things to be the opposite of what they are. This will result in something he does not understand the full consequence off,” your father explained. 

Your father then told you of the evil Melkor will bring to Arda. How the eldest of your kin will waste his powers and soul in domination, and how it will become a type of taint. A taint of power that will materialize and become an uncontrollable force of its own, devouring and corrupting everything on its path. How it will devour Arda before it could sing its last song.

Your father then looked at you. 

“There is a way to contain this taint. I wish you to become a ruler of a realm. This realm will be known as the Underworld. It will be a place where this taint can be leashed and burned, along with souls who carry it and follow Melkor’s doing,” he revealed. 

“I have spoken to my opposite. The Void has agreed to let their children become your followers. They will take forms and become known as Demons, who will follow you and help you maintain this realm. This also prevents the rest of the children from being corrupted with hate and hunger due to Melkor's nature,” he continued.

“This will be a difficult task, my child. You will see evil unlike any other, and your will will be tested,” he said, looking at you softly. “But by doing so, you will prevent Arda from being consumed by Melkor’s pride. Will you accept this task?”

Understanding the vision, you gave your answer. 

“I accept this task. But how will I contain this taint? I am not as powerful as Melkor and the rest of my kin,” you asked.  

“To fight and contain this taint, I will give you something akin to my flame.” Your father spoke and brought forth a flame.  

You watched the flame in wonder after your father placed it into your hands. It's light, bright, and warm against your palms.

“With this flame, you will be able to purify the taint and all the souls that carry it. I will appoint you as its ruler,” your father spoke. 

“I have faith that you will do your task faithfully, my child, but never speak of this flame's origin to anyone. Should Melkor mistake it as a fragment of the Flame Imperisable and attempt to use it for his own designs," he warned.

Curious, you asked what might happen if that came to pass.

"Should anything happen, it will unleash a catastrophe that could bring an end to Arda," your father answered.

You swore your word. 

Accepting the task, many of your friends from the void entered through the boundary between the timeless hall and the void. A legion of them. As they had heard of your confrontation with Melkor and how you had defended their honor, they swore themselves to you. Together, you entered Arda and began creating the realm of the Underworld. 

You shaped your form similar to the taken forms of your kin, but shared features among your demonic followers. Together, you shaped the Underworld to suit the needs of your given task. And the flame you placed in its heart, serving to purify and warm the earth of Arda above. You defined the rules of the realm, and your demons were set in a hierarchy.

Like you swore, you never spoke about the flame's origin to your kin or to your followers, knowing it might spread to Melkor’s ears and attract his attention to you. 

Soon, the sinful souls your father told you about arrived, and you passed judgments, letting them serve their punishment. Your demons were allowed to enter Arda to collect souls who refused to come when summoned. As Namo ruled souls of those of the slain and those who did not commit grave sins, you ruled over the sinners and those corrupted by the taint. Namo's call was optional, while yours was not. 

Some ages later, the first elven sinners came, though considered most beloved. Their sentence was no lighter to the humans or dwarves who followed. Even souls of orcs and tainted creatures that fell came to you.

For years, you did your duty. But then came a day when everything changed and all fell into silent chaos.

Upon the soils of Valinor, the blessed realm of the Valar. A feast was held in honor of a season. The elves sang and celebrated, unaware of what was to come. Then, there was a change in the air, and the lights flickered. A rip was opened between realities, frightening the elves and making the Valar cautious. Through the rip, fell a figure, one of your demons. The creature’s appearance frightened the elves, but then the demon shared something that shared more dread than ever. 

“Our sovereign… the ruler of the underworld… has gone missing.” 

[animatorweirdo]

The God In The Shadows

Summary: Your lover has been taken and imprisoned in Angband, the Dark Lord’s domain. Instead of doing nothing, you choose to act and venture into the heart of darkness to rescue them. Will you succeed? And most importantly, will your lover accept you once they know who you truly are?

(Author's note: Could be considered a continuation of the Imagine Being A Foreign God in Arda. The lover is referred to as they/them, so you can imagine them as anyone you like. Do let me know if you can tell who's reader's godly father🙂)

Warnings: descriptions of Angband, mentions of reader's past, reader's lover having wounds, angst, violence, reader's lover getting injured, horror(tried to go with cosmic horror vibes. Let me know how I did☺ ), hurt to comfort, and a good ending.

-------------------------------------------------------

In the desolate land of Angband, a small shadow leaped over hills. A small feline moved between rocks and crevices. It passed bones and skulls of creatures and those who had long fallen to the land’s poisons or fallen prey to its creatures. The smell of ash and decay lingered in the air. The sky was dark, covered by ash-colored clouds that rose from the peaks of three giant volcanoes that loomed over Angband. The shadows echoed with whispers, either from the departed souls who had not been able to pass peacefully or those who waited for their next prey. 

Such things would have scared any mortal, but — of course— you were no mortal. 

Arriving at your destination, you jumped upon a boulder and gazed at the large fortress before you. Its walls were black as obsidian. Orcs and other dark creatures walked along its walls, grounds, and towers— guarding them. Shrieks, stomping of feet, and yelling of dark speech echo through the air. The smell of death was even more potent, nearly suffocating all the other smells around you.

You observed every corner of the structure. It was exactly what everyone had said, an unbreachable fortress. No one would be able to enter the kingdom beneath through the gate without being seen by the guards. 

However, you were going to enter through a different doorway. 

Setting your gaze upon a shadowy corner of the gate wall, you heard the shadows whisper in return as you made a connection. Heeding your command, the shadows opened a portal before you. With the guards’ attention elsewhere, you pounced from your hiding place and then leaped into the portal, entering the realm of shadows and reflections. 

Moving through the realm of shadows and reflections, you observed through the cracks and openings to the different parts of Angband. Despite its vast size, its shadow realm wasn’t entirely connected, forcing you to step out and enter through another opening to reach the other parts of Angband. It allowed you to move silently and unnoticed. Keeping your space, you looked for the dungeons where they kept their thralls and… your lover.

Why were you doing this? 

The question echoed in your mind. A question your father would have asked if he were to see you now. 

Why risk your life for a mortal?

Even though your lover wasn’t exactly a mortal, as they were one of the Eldar, they weren’t a god either. Though love was often seen as something that made the heart soft, it was not forbidden between gods, which would have made your affection for your lover look even more odd to your father and the other gods of your world. 

Stepping through the shadows, you moved quietly through the corridor. The light from the torches reflected through you, allowing you to become invisible to the naked eye.

You had pondered how you would answer that question. The only answer you could come up with is that you loved your lover, even though love was a feeling that was still new to you. If you had not felt such a thing for your beloved, you would have likely never come to the place where you were now, looking for them.

You have heard many times how love made someone soft, but you have also heard how it made someone do unexplainable things. Perhaps you had fallen to its whims, or perhaps it was due to the possessive nature you had inherited from your father, and thus were not fully willing to give it up. 

Because giving it up would also mean giving up your lover to a fate possibly worse than death, letting you live a lifetime of sorrow. Something that scared you more than death. 

You could imagine the black jaguar of your father looking at you with mild amusement. His next question echoed in your mind. 

You had not told your lover of your true identity. Would they accept you after learning that you were no mortal, but a god from a foreign world? 

You had thought about that, too. Though the idea of your lover rejecting you and falling out of love with you terrified you. Making sure they would live and be free from the dark lord’s control was better than doing nothing and letting them meet a terrible end. If losing their love for you for rescuing them from the dark lord was the cost, then that was the cost you were fully willing to pay. 

You would prefer living a life of sorrow while knowing they’re safe and alive, than live a life of sorrow knowing you did nothing to save them. 

Soft. Vulnerable. Acting on your emotions. Things your father would have called you. Your domain was in his darkness and night. Though you were not as malevolent as he, you had been a horror story to those who dared to break or disregard the rules of your domain. You had often remained impartial in the affairs of the mortals and never allowed yourself to fall victim to something as emotions. And now, you were risking your life for a mortal because of love.

You would have disregarded his remarks. Though it felt like a paradox of its own, you wanted to keep what you loved.

Your father would have then likely chuckled. He would then take this as a test — to see whether your resolve was as strong as your affection. 

Maybe this was a test. 

Moving swiftly between shadows, you approached the lower parts of the realm, the dungeons where they kept the thralls and other slaves, having gained this knowledge from the orcs and servants outside Angband’s lands. 

The memory lingered fresh in your mind. The memory of you ambushing their camps in the dark of the night, slaughtering all of them, except one.

“Please! I tell you everything!” the orc begged, its voice and eyes filled with terror as your dark, clawed hands gripped its throat.

“Tell me where you keep the thralls within your lord’s realm, and I may spare your miserable life,” you spoke in your true form. 

You had done it many times to ensure the information you collected was accurate. Perhaps not gently. It was something you learned from your father, and it was perhaps a fundamental part of you. It would be something your lover would find terrifying. After all, your father is one of the most feared gods in your world. 

When you reached the part of the dungeons, the first things you smelled were the smell of decay, rotten blood, and rusted metal. But despite the strong stench, one familiar scent managed to reach your nose, making you stop in your tracks. 

You nearly lost your composure when you recognized the smell. Your lover. They were still alive. 

Carefully moving between the shadows and following your lover’s scent, you arrived before a cell. 

There, through the dark of the cell, was your lover. Their clothes had been torn and stained with dirt. Their hair was unkept, and their braids ruined. Scratches and bruises dressed their skin, no doubt from the orcs' foul treatment. The paleness on their face nearly glowed through the dark, reminding you of the dead. But seeing their chest move with each breath assured you that they were still alive. 

You wanted to reveal yourself. You wanted to rip the cell door open and take your lover back into your arms – to feel them again. But you restrained yourself. Though you could easily use the shadows to enter and take your lover out of the cell, you did not want to risk frightening them. You can only imagine what they have gone through and how fragile their current mental state was. Revealing your powers early could make it worse, so you have to tread carefully.

Turning around, you looked for the keymaster. Thankfully, you did not have to look far as you followed your target’s scent. Appearing above boulders, you observed the orc keymaster below you as the creature was sorting the keys in boredom. 

Keeping your eyes locked on the orc, you used your voice to whisper in its ears. The orc looked behind it in confusion when it heard a distant whisper. With focused eyes, you commanded the shadows to create a silhouette and move into the dungeon, gaining the orcs' attention. The orc grabbed its weapon and marched out to follow the shadow, leaving the keys on the table. 

You quietly landed on the table, grabbed the keys between your teeth, and disappeared back into the shadows.  

You returned to your lover's cell. Stepping out of the shadows, you transformed from your feline form back into your mortal form. Finding the right key, you unlocked your lover’s cell. 

Your lover weakly moved and groaned, hearing the cell door open. They jolted when you crouched down to them and gently held their face. 

“My love. It’s me,” you said gently.

“(Name)...?” They muttered, confusion in their eyes. Your lover then shook their head. “No. You can’t be here. You are an illusion,” they said. 

You took their hand and placed it over your heart. “It’s me, my love. Illusions do not have a heartbeat,” you spoke assuringly. 

Their eyes slowly regained their light and realization when they felt your heartbeat. “(Name)... You really are here?” 

You smiled softly. “Yes. It is really me,” 

Their eyes filled with terror. “No! What are you doing here? You need to leave. They’ll punish you!” 

You helped them up. “I’m rescuing you, and I’m not leaving without you,” you said as you helped them step out of their cell, the orc’s treatment having left them weak. 

“How did you even get here? Do they even know you are here?” your lover questioned. 

“No. I managed to sneak in without notice,” you replied, and thought about telling them the truth. 

“Listen. For us to leave this place, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your heart beginning to beat anxiously. “I had kept a secret from you,” you revealed. 

Your lover looked at you, confused. 

“Hey!” 

You two looked over to see the orc keymaster pointing at you. “Send the alarm! There is an intruder and an escaping thrall!” the creature yelled, running toward you. 

You turned back to your lover. 

“There’s no time. I’ll explain everything once we’re out of here. Do not let go of my hand,” you stated as you held their hand. 

“What–?!” your lover didn’t have a chance to question when you pulled them into the shadow realm with you. 

As you ran and pulled them through the realm, your lover looked around the shadows and cracks in stunned disbelief. You then entered through another crack back into the real world. Alarms were set, and orcs were running toward the dungeons. 

“Come on,” you said as you led your lover the way you came. 

You two managed to reach a chamber and another entrance to the shadow realm until your lover pulled their hand away from you. 

“Stop!” they said. 

“We don’t have time,” you said, but stopped when you saw fear in their eyes. Fear that was directed at you. 

“What? Are you…?” they uttered. 

You took a calming breath. “I understand that you are frightened, and I promise you that I will tell you everything. But right now we must—” you were cut off when you two heard a roar and unbearable heat on your faces.

You pulled your lover behind you as a balrog stood before you.

“So, two little rats running freely in my lord's halls,” the fiery demon spoke. “I shall have fun with you two,” 

Your eyes darkened. 

“You will not touch them!” you yelled. 

Your defiance only seemed to amuse the flaming creature. It’s laugh, like splitting stone and a roaring furnace. Orcs then flooded into the chamber, surrounding you and your lover. You looked around carefully, but could not find an opening or a shadow to escape through. You were trapped.

Your eyes sharpened. Looks like fighting was your only option now. 

But when you were ready to shed your mortal form, your lover saw an orc aiming at you with a bow. The creature released the arrow. 

“No!” your lover stepped between, taking the arrow for you. 

Your lover released a choked sound. The blood in your veins became ice cold as they fell in your arms, their blood staining your hands. 

“No! No! No!” you said as you held your lover.  

“(Name)... flee this place,” your lover uttered weakly. 

The balrog laughed in a mocking tone. “Dying so soon? What a feeble attempt at rescue. No matter. I’m sure you will provide enough entertainment, mortal,” the demon spoke. 

You stared at your lover’s blood in your trembling hands. You had seen blood before and never recoiled from it. But this time — seeing your lover’s blood — it felt wrong. So very wrong. 

And hearing the balrog’s mocking laugh, you felt the last of the restraints within you snap. 

The chamber started to become dimmer. The balrog and the orcs looked around in confusion, then at you as darkness began to emanate from your body. Your eyes turned slit and the color of obsidian. Dark spots similar to your feline form appeared on your skin like openings to a void. You raised your hand as your other hand held your lover, who felt your presence change before falling into blackness. The balrog and the orcs watched you as you flicked your fingers, and all the torches went out, plunging the chamber into pitch black darkness. 

The balrog looked around. The darkness was so thick that the light from its flames couldn’t penetrate through. The sounds of the confused and panicked orcs echoed for a moment before they fell into unnerving silence. The great servant roared and tried to burn brighter, but its sounds were devoured as there was no echo, and the light of the flames brought no more light in the dark. For the first time in its life, the balrog felt hesitation. 

A quiet growl echoed from the darkness. 

The balrog spun around, looking for the source of the sound. Its eyes then spotted something in the lightless darkness. It looked like a pair of eyes, but they held no glow, except the light reflected from the balrog’s flames. Then, looking into the eyes, the balrog suddenly saw visions of their formerself, their existence before the corruption. And then, they saw visions of ash and what seemed to be their dead corpse.

An unfamiliar feeling recoiled within the balrog the more it saw. 

Suddenly, a clawed hand appeared from the darkness, grabbing the balrog by its neck. The balrog’s flames snuffed out from the being’s cold touch, and then, razor-sharp teeth plunged into its neck. The balrog screamed in pain and terror as the being ripped its neck open.  

“What is the meaning of this noise?!” 

Demanded another balrog as it entered the chamber with more orcs. The balrog commanded the torches to light themselves after seeing them out. But when the lights returned, the scene that revealed itself left the balrog and the orcs speechless. 

Orcs were screaming in terror, attacking and killing each other in madness. In their eyes, they saw a dark figure, prompting them to attack their kin and anything with a reflection. 

“By the will of…” the balrog uttered quietly when it saw the state of its kin within the chamber. 

The balrog was frozen on its knees. Its neck was mawed open, but instead of blood, shards of obsidian bloomed forward like a flower of glass. Black blood oozed from its root, and the balrog flames were snuffed out, either because it refused to ignite or because it fed the black glass flower like a curse.

Despite the wound, the balrog still lived. It breathed weakly, its face locked in an expression of pure terror. Its gaze stared into nothingness, its eyes still trapped in darkness, reliving the vision of its fate again and again.

“What… “ one of the orcs uttered. “... happened here?”

The second balrog could not answer. It had never seen anything like this before, and the sight of its kin in such a state stirred a feeling the great servant had never known.

It was clear that some attack had taken place.

But… by what?

Or…

By whom?

Fire flickered in the hearth, illuminating the room of the cabin with soft golden light. 

A soft groan escaped your lover as they began to wake up. The first thing they noticed was the warmth of the room and the softness of the furs covering them. It nearly felt strange as they remembered the coldness and the hard surface of the stones in their cell. The smell of herbs, wood, and clean clothes reached their nose. For a moment, they relaxed as it reminded them of your house, which they have visited many times. The sense of home and safety.

Wait.

Wasn't your house destroyed by the orcs?

The memories finally returned.

Your lover gasped and sat up on the bed. They looked around the room in confusion before feeling the spot where they had been struck by the arrow. There was no wound. There wasn't even unbroken skin. It was like they were never struck in the first place. 

Now that they closely looked. All their other wounds have disappeared as well.

“(Name)!” your lover called out. 

“I’m here…” you appeared, bringing over a bowl of broth you had made to help with their strength. 

“Where are we?” your lover asked, unfamiliar with the cabin as it wasn’t your house.

You sat down on the edge of the bed. “Safe. Far away from Angband and Morgoth’s servants,” you said, setting down the bowl on the bedsite table. 

“How?” your lover questioned. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You turned toward them and then pulled them into an embrace. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters,” you muttered softly. 

Your lover was about to ask more. “I nearly lost you. So, please… “You said, nearly pleading. 

Your lover felt the trembling of your hands as you held them. Your embrace was gentle yet tight, as if they might disappear the moment you let go. They noticed the dark color of your eyes, slit like a cat’s, yet filled with vulnerability.

They also noticed how the shadows seemed to respond to your presence—dimming the light and waiting, as if the darkness itself were holding its breath.

Despite the strangeness and realization from earlier that you were something other than a mortal human, your lover did not find themselves afraid.

They leaned into your touch and returned your embrace.

Your eyes widened, but then softened, nearly shedding tears from the relief and happiness. Your eyes returned to their previous shade as you held your lover tightly. The shadows pulled back into their corners, allowing the light of the hearth become brighter.

Your lover held you. Even though what you were or how you had managed to escape Morgoth's servants eluded them. Seeing your eyes and shaking hands left them no doubt about whether you truly loved them.

They can wait for answers later. 

Now, they just wanted to feel you. 

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine Being a Foreign God In Arda

Summary: Imagine being an ancient god from the modern world and trying to live a peaceful life in Arda.

(Author's note: Using they/them for the elven lover as they are not specified.)

Warnings: complicated family relationships, pantheon drama, possible deaths and rebirths, traveling between worlds, keeping secrets and identities, war (this takes place in the First Age), Melkor, battles, your lover getting kidnapped, and you using your powers.

------------------------------------------------------------

-Imagine belonging to one of our world's pantheons. You are a minor god, or maybe a child of two gods, and you ruled over something mundane compared to your parents and the other gods.

-Despite not being equally famous, you were worshipped, and you lent your aid to the mortals from time to time.

-Maybe your relationship with your godly parents was complicated, or maybe there was a lot of fighting among the gods (all the pantheons were pretty messy).

-Maybe you found a way to travel between worlds, or someone helped you escape the drama, or maybe, during the destruction and fall of your pantheon, you died, and some outer worldly presence felt pity for you, saving your soul and allowing you to be reborn in a new world.

-But by one of those reasons, you found your way to the world of Arda.

-It was a peculiar but beautiful world. You learned that it had its own pantheon called the Valar, and that their maker was called Eru Illuvatar.

-However, you decided not to involve yourself with them. You decided to take a mortal form and live among Arda's people, trying to create a humble life for yourself. You pretty much had enough of the godly life you lived in your previous world.

-While living among Arda's people, the children of Illuvatar, you learned to create a humble way of living while keeping your powers and godly nature as a secret.

-The elves were the first you learned to live with. Though they often kept to themselves, they were polite and taught you many things that helped you live in their world. The dwarves you found fascinating and admired their skills in smith work, often commissioning them for tools and other items. The humans, you were already familiar with. Though they were different compared to the humans of your world, they bore the same keenness to be swayed by the differences of evil and good. But, despite that, they had their own positive sides.

-Despite all the different sides of this world's people, you grew to enjoy living among them.

-However, even though you lived among them in a mortal form, you often had to change shape and identity due to your immortality and other circumstances. It was to avoid suspicions. It was not always easy, especially when you meet those who knew you in a different name. But you did not want to live among them as a god since they already had gods of their own.

-Thought this world was much more peaceful than your own, it had its own dark forces.

-Though you didn't involve yourself with the Valar, who apparently preferred to keep their distance and remain impartial. One of them, who was named Morgoth, was an active force in the lands you lived in, seemingly seeking to dominate Arda to his will.

-You had many encounters with creatures called the orcs, goblins, trolls, and other kinds of beings that served the dark lord or were made by him.

-It was during those times that you were forced to use your godly powers and step up to defend the people around you.

-You tried to do them discreetly and in another form to avoid anyone recognizing you. Some stories were born from your actions, but thankfully, they were vague enough that they couldn't be traced back to you.

-Though you respected the Valar's choices, the dealings with the dark lord's servants often made you wish they would be more involved or at least aid the children they were meant to look out for. Even if they had rules against meddling in the children's affairs, there are many subtle ways a god could aid them. You had done it several times yourself.

-Through the years of living in this world, you made many friends and witnessed many things. You even witnessed Morgoth's return and the many sorrows that followed.

-You even participated in some of the battles that took place, though you kept your contribution minimal.

-After the birth of the sun and moon, the return of the dark lord, and the arrival of the elven clan called the Noldor. Despite many wars and tragedies, you lived your life as normally as you could.

-Then one day, you met someone who changed your life in a way you didn't expect. This person was an elf. As you were already familiar with the Eldar, you had an easy time conversing with them. You didn't even notice it at first, but after many interactions, they became part of your daily life, and then you found yourself falling in love.

-It was a new but wonderful feeling. Your parents and the other gods of your pantheon would have likely scolded you for gaining feelings for someone who wasn't another god. Gods falling with mortals was not an unknown story to you. However, you found yourself embracing the feeling.

-And after observing your elven friend to see if they felt the same, which, to your joy, they did, you tried to reciprocate your feelings to them. It might have been awkward at first as you had never courted someone before, but after getting through the phase, your courtship became official.

-Despite the time you were living, you two found yourselves happy and making your courtship work.

-However, since you had taken a form of a mortal human, your elven lover often felt sad and afraid of the time when you two would separate due to your supposed old age.

-It made you think about telling them the truth about yourself and that you have been immortal this entire time --- that you two could be together without fear.

-However, before you could find the chance to tell your elven lover about your true identity, your home was attacked. Morgoth's creatures came and ransacked your home. Though you managed to survive, Morgoth's servants kidnapped your lover and took them to Angband, the dark lord's domain.

-It left you devastated and unsure what to do. Your friends and neighbours shared their condolences and then told you that you should move on from your lover, as they were likely already dead.

-No one returned from Angband. Even if some did, they would never be the same. And no one in their right mind would go there to save one life.

-Angband was a fortified fortress, surrounded by giant volcanoes and legions of Morgoth's servants. It was simply impossible to rescue someone from there.

-Despite the sense of reason telling you to follow those voices, the idea of abandoning your first true love in a place that was akin to hell did not sit right with you.

-For the first time in years, you decided to abandon the rules you set for yourself and rescue your elven lover.

-Though you weren't as powerful as the dark lord, you were certainly more powerful than his servants.

-You ambushed orcs and other dark lord's servants, using your powers to gain information from them.

-You prepared carefully, collecting information, and once you had all you needed. You shed your mortal form and made your way to Angband. Your only hope is that your lover will stay strong long enough for you to reach them, and hopefully, accept you once they witness your true self.

[lamemaster]

Homecoming (Part 2)

AN: This idea came to me on a walk and I have never been better.

Genre: Comfort

Platonic piece no pairings. GN reader

Summary: This is no grand tale of adventure, nor of wars and victories. It is not even quite a love story. It is simply the epilogue to a tragedy. A small comfort offered to those who have turned too many pages of grief.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

They arrive together.

Prince Findekano and your prince Nelyafinwe step through the doors mid-argument, voices layered, animated, familiar as spring after a long winter.

You are seated by the hearth, mending a collar worn thin with age. The needle stills between your fingers.

You know those voices. You would know them in any age of the world.

They look as they once did. Tall and unbroken, cheeks still bearing the careless glow of youth. Prince Findekano’s eyes flash as he goads your prince with deliberate delight.

Prince Nelyafinwe answers him with a roll of his eyes, the corner of his mouth threatening a smile he pretends not to allow.

The Ambarussar streak between them, laughing, tangling in cloaks and nearly sending both elder princes stumbling.

You are on your feet before you remember standing.

“My lords,” you say softly. But it comes out the way one might greet boys returning from a hunt too long in the woods.

Your heart swells painfully in your chest. For a breath, the house feels full again.

Then you see it. No shadows trail at their heels. Their outlines tremble faintly, as though the air has not decided whether to keep them.

Your throat tightens, but you do not let your face change.

Instead, you move. You brush imaginary dust from Findekano’s sleeve as he passes, a reflex born of years. Your hand lingers only a fraction longer than necessary.

“You have grown thin,” you murmur, though he looks as he always did.

You fetch tea without asking. Of course you do. You remember how they took it. Less honey for Nelyo, more for Findekano, though he always denied the preference.

You set the cups before them, adjusting them precisely where their hands would fall. They do not reach. You pretend not to notice.

Maitimo looks up at you then.

And you see it. The burn that mars one side of his face. Worse than rumor ever told. His right hand, ruined and darkened, rests upon the arm of the chair, fragile as smoke.

You have seen him scraped from trees, mud-splattered from riding, flushed with boyish fury.

You have never seen this.

Your fingers twitch with the old instinct to fetch salve.

The twins dart past and you reach automatically, catching one by the collar though your hand closes on nothing.

Still, you scold gently. “No running in the halls.” Your voice trembles.

You smooth Nelyos’ cloak where it bunches at his shoulder. Adjust it. Straighten it.

An old habit.

They may be warriors. They may be kings. They may be ghosts.

But they are still your princes. The elflings you raised as you would have your daughters.

The tea cools untouched. You leave it there anyway.

Ages have left you bent and thinned, bones aching in the cold, hands not as steady as they once were. Time has weathered you. But it has never broken you.

Not through exile. Not through whispers in the market. Not through empty halls and unkempt hearths.

You endured. Until you see him.

You know him at once, and the knowing is absurd.

He had been no more than an infant when your lords departed. A bundle of quilts and restless limbs, fussy in the cradle set too close to the forge. You remember pacing the corridor with him when his cries would not quiet. Remember the stubborn set of his tiny brow.

That was the last you saw of Prince Tyelpe. Or Celebrimbor as the Middle Earth knew him.

And now, he stands in the doorway. Tall and broad-shouldered. His bearing unmistakably of his line. There are scars upon him, not the fading marks of childhood mischief, but the cruel etchings of a world that did not treat him gently.

And yet, He is whole. Not shimmering. Not fragile. Not flickering like stars in a pond.

Warm color in his cheeks. Breath stirring the air. Weight in the floorboards beneath his boots. As though he has stepped straight from the halls of healing and chosen this place first.

The sight of him nearly undoes you. Your knees weaken. For the first time in long years, you forget yourself.

You forget decorum. Forget distance. Forget that you are but a servant. You cross the space between you before you are aware of moving.

He looks startled, only briefly, before you reach him. You cup his face in your hands. Your thumbs brush over the sharp line of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows that reminds you so painfully of his father. You raised that father.

You watched his grandfather pace with brilliance and fury. You scolded his uncles for muddy boots and torn cloaks.

And now here stands the child who never knew this house. Home without knowing it.

Your voice trembles despite yourself. “Welcome home.” The words break on your breath. “Come in, my prince.” You say it softly.

You sleep little these days.

The cold of the house seeps into your bones. The kitchens stand empty; shelves once heavy with bread and fruit now gather dust. Most of the staff are long gone.

They left with your lords. The rest found service among the remaining royalty of Tirion. You remained. Alone in the house.

There is always something to do. Halls to scrub, silver to polish, curtains to mend. Yet no matter how fiercely you work, the corridors do not shine as they once did.

It is not grime that dims them. It is absence. So much of what made the house alive has gone. And you linger within it like a stubborn spirit, unwilling to fade.

There has been no sign of Lady Nerdanel. You know you should seek her. Ask after her among the sculptors. But you cannot.

You cannot leave. Not when they might return.

It is on one such day that you doze upon your narrow cot.

The room warms. Your eyes pry open. Heat gathers beside you, bright and blistering, and there stands your prince.

Prince Curufinwe.

He is as you remember him in those early days. Radiant, terrible in beauty, a form unbound by flesh. His presence fills the small chamber.

“My prince,” you say at once, rising without hesitation.

Back then, time had not yet touched you as it would in ages to come. Your eyes were clearer. Your hands steadier. You could still see, if you looked closely, the elfling you once carried through dim corridors when King Finwe grieved the loss of his queen.

You see that child now, beneath the blaze. He looks at you as he once looked at his father. Proud, wounded, certain the world has wronged him. Like the elfling who lost his mother in the Blessed Realm and never understood why.

“I…” His voice falters. The great silvertongue of Tirion falters. “I have ruined my sons.” The words fall heavy. “They will suffer. The world will despise them.”

“Nelyo… he—”

“If I had not spoken that Oath… they might have grieved and endured. They might have rebuilt. They might have wed, fathered children, grown old in wisdom.”

Even in unbound spirit, he sinks to his knees before you. The fire does not diminish, but it bows.

“I shall never see them again. I have forfeited that right.” His hands seize yours. They burn. Not in anger but in anguish.

“But they… my sons… they will need a home.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I beg of you. Be to them what you were to me. Let them have a home. I beg of—”

You do not let him finish. You step forward and pull the burning pillar into your arms. The flames lick at your sleeves. The heat sears your skin. You do not recoil.

Once, you carried him when nightmares woke him. Once, you steadied his small hands when grief made them shake. This is no different.

You hold him. “Be at peace,” you whisper, your voice soft against the blaze. “They will have a home.”

When the heat fades and the room grows cold once more, your hands are blistered.

You do not regret it.

Downstairs, the halls wait.

And you rise to tend them.

[animatorweirdo]

OMG. This nearly brought me to tears. 😭

[lamemaster]

Homecoming

AN: This idea came to me on a walk and I have never been better

Genre: Comfort

Platonic piece no pairings. GN reader

Summary: This is no grand tale of adventure, nor of wars and victories. It is not even quite a love story. It is simply the epilogue to a tragedy. A small comfort offered to those who have turned too many pages of grief.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

You walk through the quiet halls, dusting the windows as pale rays of sunlight stream through. So paltry, compared to the glow of Laurelin.

Your hair, once vibrant, is now streaked with silver. You are a rare sight in Valinor. Rare, to see someone so aged. An elf older than the very monarchs who first made the journey to the Blessed Lands.

You had arrived trembling, numb to the world, unwilling to look away from the shore that claimed your family. Your daughters taken by spawn of evil. Your beloved following soon after.

But Valinor settled into your bones. Shortly after those tumultuous years, you began working for the Finwean household, looking after the young crown prince.

Your daughters had been older. Nearly of age. But you remember them as they were.

That is how you came to be the butler of the House of Feanor.

Eons have passed. Valar and Maiar have fallen and risen, yet you continue to serve the house.

You have never met a Man, but many reborn have told you of them, and how your silvered hair resembles that of their elderly.

It is just another day of tending to the house. You wipe the doorway that was once so often filthy with the muddy prints of young princes. Now, it barely gathers dust.

A sharp giggle rings to your left. A flurry of red flashes past.

You drop the mop and chase after the little phantom.

Prince Ambarato, who refuses the Halls of Mandos, came here not long after the March of the Noldor. Not as the grown Elda he had been when he departed, but as the elfling you once chased through feast-laden corridors.

He flits through rooms, plays with the fish in the pods, wanders the orchards, and sits with you at dinner. He waits for his twin.

Even in death, he brings life to the silent house.

You do not ask him to seek rest, nor do you summon a Maia of Námo. No...your prince has returned home, and you have no intention of stealing that comfort from him.

After his arrival, you spent days cleaning and washing old toys. Soft dolls long forgotten. You made the chamber as it had been in Prince Amrod’s childhood.

You sent a single note to Lady Nerdanel.

She came barging through the doors, her hair still aflame, and took the elfling into her arms before her luggage had even struck the floor.

Without delay, you cleaned her workshop. Sent word for fresh clay. Visited the smiths for sharper carving tools.

It is no great surprise when you walk in on a fading image of Prince Moryo, tugging absently at the loose strings of a tapestry. The sons of Feanor return of their own will. First Prince Ambarato. Then others.

You bow at once. “Forgive the neglect, my prince. I shall have it mended immediately.”

Prince Morifinwe, or as the Sindar call him, Caranthir looks at you.

Unlike his brother, who returned as an elfling, Moryo appears clad in armor, his wraith softly flickering.

He nods solemnly, as is the way of the fourth son of Fëanor.

He does not stay long. Only a few hours. You see him linger in the halls, stand by the windows, watching as Prince Amrod dances with the wind. His hands trace the soft wool of blankets you changed in his room the day before.

His fingers close weakly around the brittle leaves Prince Tyelkormo and Huan once sent flying through the corridors months ago.

Where he has wandered for so long, you do not know. And you do not ask. You serve him luncheon as he once favored: fruit and cheese, honey, soft bread.

But Prince Moryo does not touch it. He cannot.

He stands frozen, staring at his mother.

One glance at Lady Nerdanel, and he fades. In fear. In shame. Or perhaps in guilt.

Why does the house call to such damned souls? Why does it reach for the doomed sons of Feanor with such fervor?

You do not know.

Perhaps it is the polished windows, the warm hearth, the textbooks of their childhood tucked carefully into every corner. Perhaps it is the lullaby Lady Nerdanel sings to young Ambarato, whose form is little more than air.

Or perhaps it is the old butler who leaves small trinkets by the mantel, as though offering tribute to some silent god for an impossible return.

This is no grand tale of adventure, nor of wars and victories. It is not even quite a love story.

It is simply the epilogue to a tragedy.

A small comfort offered to those who have turned too many pages of grief.

At nightfall, you light every lamp in the main hall.

You light them so that if, should...no, when any of them walk the long road home.

If some shattered, weary remnant of a son of Feanor stands at the crest of the hill and looks toward Tirion in shame.

He will see light in the windows.

He will know the house was not abandoned.

[animatorweirdo]

Bruh, this is so good. And there's gonna be part 2?!

[animatorweirdo]

anon who asked about mina just before… i just scrolled down (no idea why i didn’t before sending the ask 😭) and saw that you haven’t hear from her— ignore the last message! sorry for disturbing your peace lol

Just saw these both. No worries. Unfortunately, I have no other means of contacting her than through Tumblr, where she has been unusually inactive. I'm pretty worried about her. Even though it might be nothing, and she's just busy with her life. So, let's hope it's just that.

[animatorweirdo]

I’m asking for a dark scenario. If possible, please write a story about Melkor (Morgoth) x Fëanor’s twin sister.

Sorry, but I'm not taking any requests at the moment, but this did give me an idea as I was going through some mythological stories. So, here's a dark scenario for you:

You are the twin sister of Fëanor and considered the most beautiful elleth in Noldor. Though you shared your brother's pride, you were humble and loved by people. Melkor, during his freedom in Aman, starts desiring you, especially since you were unmarried. However, you reject all his advances, and because you only saw lust in his eyes. But then, Melkor kidnaps you during the darkening and takes you to Angband. You reject him once more, and, in his rage, Melkor places a curse on you. Turning you from beautiful elleth, into the ugliest creature alive. He sets you free into the wilds of Beleriand. You remain hidden for a while, but when Fëanor arrived with his sons and people, you tried to tell him it was you. However, Fëanor, blinded by his grief and rage, wouldn't hear you out and struck you down. He then moved on with his quest to take revenge on Melkor without knowing he had slain his own sister.

I hope that was dark enough for you. If any of you feel inspired by this, you are free to write it.

[animatorweirdo]

Hey hun, how are you?

Sorry if this is a weird ask, but is there any news or word of doodlepops/mina? She's been MIA And im worried if she's alright.

Hey. I'm doing okay. Thank you for asking.

Unfortunately, I have no idea how doodlepops is doing. I tried messaging her once, but no reply. I'm pretty worried about her too, and my overthinking brain makes up scenarios that do not help reduce that worry. She's probably okay and just busy with real life, so let's hope it's just that.

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Fanfic writers are like crows. If you give them treats (comments) they will bring you shiny things (fanfic)

[fortheloveofdeaddove]

I thought this said cows and thought, "Okay, tell me more..."

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Fanfic creators are like cows, some people think you can just milk them for content, but actually they need enrichment (comments) and a nice pasture to graze on (kudos/likes) and they secretly also like cuddles (asks about their fic/art)

[animatorweirdo]

A Stranger In The Snow

Summary: Nerdanel shares about a vision of a stranger who changed one of her sons' fates.

(Author's note: This idea came while writing The Heart of Autumn, so this is technically related to my Maglor x reader series.)

Warnings: angst, Nerdanel being a mourning mother, description of certain characters' deaths, visions, hurt to comfort (in a way), and mention of Maglor still never returning to Valinor, but Nerdanel being okay with it this time.

----------------------------------------------------

The garden was filled with sounds today. Birds were on their daily activities, perching in the trees, pecking seeds on the ground, and bathing in the nearby fountain, all while singing their songs. Bees, butterflies, and other kinds of insects flew among the flower beds, filling the air with the buzzing of their wings and releasing pollen wherever they went. Wind chimes echoed from a corner of the roof, adding melody to the atmosphere. 

Seated on a garden stool, Nerdanel watched the birds and insects as they went about their day, her mind deep in thought. Though the garden was far from silent, it was missing certain sounds—the bickering of her sons, the distant hammering from her husband’s forge, and the melody of a harp drifting from Makalaurë’s window whenever he worked on a new song.

Oh, the things she would do to hear her gentle Makalaurë's songs again. 

The absence of those sounds grieved her deeply, along with the memories of the darkening and the events that followed, leading to that absence. 

“You seem different today,” a voice snapped out of her thoughts. 

“Hm?” Nerdanel turned toward Anairë, her husband’s half-brother’s spouse, who also visited her from time to time. Today, they decided to have some tea in the garden. 

“The sadness that usually follows you does not seem to be present today. Has something changed?” Anairë asked. 

“No,” Nerdanel replied with a shake of her head. “I still do feel the sadness. It is not something I can let go of easily.”

“Every day, I still mourn my sons. I mourn the sons they used to be and how they were led to a path they could never return from,” she spoke, her gaze falling distant. “And I mourn that they might never return to the Blessed Realm — to forever stay where their father’s quest had led them.” 

“Still… something has changed. Something that has lifted little of the sadness in your heart.” Anairë stated. 

Nerdanel thought about it. “You’re right. Something has changed,” she murmured. 

Anairë’s eyes glimmered with curiosity. “What is it? If I may ask.” 

Nerdanel looked at her. “Are you aware that mothers sometimes can gain foresight on their children’s fate?” she asked. 

“I am, “Anairë nodded, then looked mournful. “I’ve seen how each of my children will meet their end.”

“I saw my youngest shredded to pieces in a battle upon the ice. I saw my daughter’s heart pierced by a poisoned javelin. Findekáno I saw crushed beneath axes of fire and shadow,” Anairë revealed.

“And my Turukáno…” She paused. “…him I saw falling within a tower in a city of flames.”

“Terrible ends,” Nerdanel said sympathetically. 

Anairë sighed. “Three of them have already come true. I dread the day I hear Turukáno had arrived in the Halls of Mandos,” she said. 

Nerdanel took a sip from her tea, remembering the darkening and what followed.

“One of my twin sons’ fates came true the moment Fëanaro took the boats and all our sons to the other side of the sea,” she began. “It was upon their birth I saw how one of them would meet an end in fire.”

She released a sigh.

“Even today, I wish I begged Fëanaro harder to leave one of my twins behind, or perhaps go against my nature and take one of them in secret, “ she continued.

“I barely held myself together when I heard my poor young son had burned alive under his own father’s orders,” she uttered, recalling that moment of grief when the maia shared the news. 

Anairë hummed sympethically before meeting her gaze. “Did you receive any visions of how the rest of your sons would meet their end?” she asked.

Nerdanel slowly nodded. “Yes.” 

“I saw Carnistir, Tyelkormo, and my Atarinkë die under the caves beneath the great green woods,” she shared. “The last of my twins fell upon the shores of a haven.”  

“Maitimo, I saw end his life within the flames of the earth, and my Makalaurë… “ she nearly hesitated to continue. “He… became lost to the endless fogs of the sea.”

“Oh, how terrible…” Anairë said with sympathy in her eyes. 

“But what is it that had changed?” she asked.  

Nerdanel met Anairë’s gaze. “Today. When I was gazing at the statues I had made of them, I touched Makalaurë’s statue, and gained a new vision of his fate,” she revealed. 

Anairë’s eyes widened. “What did you see?” 

Nerdanel recalled the moment. “I saw… snow.” 

Within the darkened halls of her home, Nerdanel stood among the statues she had created of her sons. Stone fragments and rubble lay scattered beneath her feet, renmants of statues she had struck down in anger long ago. Most of them had been statues of her husband, as she couldn't control the anger she felt after learning what he had done. The hammer she had used still lay where it had fallen that day, untouched.

Lines of dried tears dressed her face as she had wept once more, the yearning for her sons' presence and a husband she once loved having overwhelmed her again. 

The statues stood like ghosts. Their lifelike resemblance felt almost mocking, a constant reminder of what she had lost. She had long since stopped counting how many times she had mistaken them for the living. At times, it made her wish she were not such an excellent sculptor.

Nerdanel turned her gaze toward her eldest son’s statue and placed her palm over his stone-cold cheek. Visions of fire entered her mind, causing her to pull back and inhale as tears threatened to fall again. Despite her attempts, her heart was stricken with further grief. 

Maitimo’s fate hadn’t changed. None of their fates had changed. 

Years have already passed, yet the visions remained the same, and every day she dreaded the moment they would come true. She did not even know why she still tried to look and see if something had changed. Perhaps it was out of a small hope that Illuvatar might grant her mercy and change one of her sons’ fates. 

But no. All their fates have remained the same. 

Nerdanel turned toward Makalaurë’s statue, the stone face looking back at her with an unchanging expression. Despite already knowing what she might see, she placed her palm on the statue's cheek.

A familiar vision of the sea and fog entered her mind. She silently released more tears as the familiar sounds of the waves and the regretful song of her son reached her ears. 

 Something then caught her eye. 

She looked up when she saw something glimmering fall slowly from the sky. A single white snowflake appeared before her, landing on her hand. Confusion replaced her grief as she stared at the snowflake. This wasn’t in her vision before. 

Then, suddenly, she heard a distant cry of what she could only describe as an elk echoing through the fog. 

A strong wind suddenly brushed against her, making her raise her hands in cover as snow pelted against her. When the wind died down, she looked up in shock as the landscape around her had changed from the foggy seashore to a forest in wintertime.

When music reached her ears, she turned around and held her breath when she saw Makalaurë beneath a tree. Despite the years, he hadn't changed much in appearance.

Nerdanel looked at him with a soft expression as he played his harp, then she noticed a figure beside him. Her heart began to pound in alarm when she saw the figure's appearance.

Sitting beside her son was a stranger, dressed in shadow-like cloak and upon their head rested a mask that resembled a skull of an animal. 

Nerdanel felt unnerved by the sight, but when she looked at her son, she saw no fright on his face. He was softly looking at the skull-masked stranger as they listened to him play. 

The world shifted around her again. 

Now she stood within the garden of an unfamiliar fortress, its walls pale beneath a clear sky. There, she watched Makalaurë walk beside the masked figure, who held fast to his forearm. Affection shone plainly in her son’s eyes, and something in Nerdanel’s chest tightened as she understood.

The vision changed once more.

Nerdanel stood within an autumn forest. Children’s laughter filled the air as two identical boys ran past her, their joy bright and unburdened. Makalaurë followed soon after, accompanied by the masked stranger. Nerdanel stood frozen, her thoughts racing as she watched them regard the children with shared tenderness.

Seasons blurred and shifted.

Winter gave way to spring, spring to summer, and through it all she saw her son and the masked stranger stay together. At last, it was summer. The twin boys were grown, and the land that was once ruled by Morgoth lay drowned beneath the sea. Standing on the shore, Nerdanel watched Makalaurë and his skull-masked companion walking eastward, headed toward the lands in the east.

The fear she had once felt toward the masked stranger slowly ebbed away. In every moment she had witnessed, her son had been happy. That truth warmed her heart, easing an ache she had carried for ages. She knew that whoever lay beneath the mask was dear to him. And that through them, his fate had changed.

The vision ended, leaving Nerdanel gasping. Tears streamed down her eyes but not out of grief, but relief and joy. Her son. Her Makalaurë. He was no longer bound to wander the endless shores beneath unbroken fog.

“And then… I saw him depart the lands to the east, accompanied by the skull-masked stranger. ” Nerdanel finished. 

Anairë looked in awe. “Who could this skull-masked companion be?” 

“I do not know.” Nernadel shook her head. “Its presence was cold yet warm. Dangerous yet safe. Like two beings in one.” 

Nerdanel released a sigh. “I might never know. But they have saved Makalaurë from his determined fate,” she smiled softly, then looked toward the ocean. 

“Even if he might not return to Valinor. I will be at peace knowing that he’s not alone, or lost to the world. ”