Fëanárë Curufinwë Finwiel

One and Only Heir of High King Finwë, First Born Child to High King Finwë and High Queen Míriel. Independent RP Tolkien Blog for genderswapped Fëanor based upon the fic verse by Syrisa and Napoldeinlove Icon by Elenyanar Sidebar by Valleyhu

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Fuck. Two years. Fucking hell.

everytime I think I can get back into rp, life kicks me sideways. Shit I had not thought it was this long.

[nerdxnel-blog]

highqueenofthenoldor liked x

         Nerdanel did not need to look up to know who had just slipped into her workshop. Few came in with such surety - most lingered in the doorway seemingly half afraid she might scold them for disturbing her, or something equally ridiculous. Picking up a long scalpel, she traced the line of the eyelid on the likeness she was working in clay. It cut smoothly, satisfyingly, and she tilted her head to the side. Cutting wet clay was so soothing.

"Where have you been hiding today?" was her only murmur of greeting. Not even giving the other a third of her attention, a smile still crept along her lips.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"... with my father," Fëanárë just watched, letting her day escape her as best it could though even in this workshop where usually her mind quieted and her blood didn't buzz but flowed with sluggish normalicy through her veins, she still felt the adrenaline of finally making her demands.

Her impossible demands.

She licked her lips, caught herself halfway through the action when the taste of carefully and rarely applied rouge reached her, and retracted her tongue, still watching Nerdanel.

She should... memorise this, Fëanárë felt her palms itch and her nails ache, ready to grab paper and begin planning. She should draw this scene before her, or write down a description of Nerdanel as she was now. Maybe try her own hand at sculpting... or perhaps she could create a mould and grow crystals of various colours into it.

For the first time the fact that copper crystals were green annoyed her. Maybe topaz? Carnelian was too bright.

"We have had a issue arising that we have needed to sit down and spend more than a passing evening talking about," she inspected her hands which shook still, and twisted the unfamiliar rings on them.

Her father and she had been talking about (discussing, arguing, demanding), as usual lately, what had become an obsession of her father's. And in realising it was an obsession she had realised the power it gave her and for a moment the curtain had been drawn back and she could understand politicians. If at least in a rudimentary way.

And coming away from that with politics sticking to her like a strange unpleasant residue she felt, for the first time in her life, out of place in this area of creation, and tucked her still trembling hands behind her back. She moved around Nerdanel, looking for somewhere to sit with no care for the grey-brown dust accumulating quickly on her hem which would take someone a small age to wash out.

Her skirts swirled around her as she at last found herself a perch, an uncommonly generous amount of material unsuited for here; pitch-black yet strangely lustrous silk she had commissioned when at last the explanations by twittering court ladies and her own observations had revealed to her the science of dressing to influence another.

Around her hips in a low girdle designed to create the most aesthetically pleasing curves large white gems were sitting, fiery in any light for she had cut them with precision so that they cut the light and made it sharp.

Then there was nothing more but that lustrous black till her chest was reached and pavé white stones made elegant if minimalistic arcs back and forth, crisscrossing one another with bold strokes where they hung from a tight necklace that was simple two rings of yet more white gems separated by frighteningly dark ruby drops.

Her hair was up, and twisted and pinned and braided till it felt like she was wearing her own anvil on her head.

It wasn't anything she ever wore. Never intended to wear again hopefully. She didn't know what she'd do with it whether her day spent with her father was success or a failure, if that was the right definition for either his agreement or rejection. Dismantle the jewellery, there were better things she could do with the jewels.

Maybe use the dress for jewel polishing rags

"Was your day productive?" she watched Nerdanel's hands move, then followed the minute flexing of muscles up to her wrists and then her arms.

She needed to memorise that especially, the way those hands moved.

If Father agreed to her then she would have to agree and then she would no longer see Nerdanel with any frequency.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

♝ //yolo:D

♗:Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

Live fast die young Nolo, like a true Noldor. 

It was getting harder to keep herself awake, the urging of her body for rest stronger than her will to keep going but Fëanárë, not one to be controlled by biological impulses, kept herself ramrod straight up against the back of the chase she was sitting on.

This lead to the somewhat comical affect of, when rest finally won out, her body simply swinging down to one side, like an axe falling on a log, with her head thankfully making contact with something firm but soft enough that she did not concuss herself. That it was Nolofinwë's thigh would later bring her a great deal of self disgust but for the moment, it was as good a pillow as any.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

ｓｌｅｅｐｉｎｇ ａｔ ｌａｓｔ | ｓｔａｒｔｅｒｓ

"I've waited a hundred years, but I'd wait a million more for you."

"Nothing prepared me for the privilege of becoming yours."

"How did we get so good at dismantling hearts?"

"Just try to live what little life your mended heart can."

"When you're gone, I'm gonna dream about the time I had with you."

"I'm a writer at a loss for words."

"You're an artist, and your heart is your greatest masterpiece."

"Hold out your hand. Don't be afraid."

"I surrender who I've been for who you are."

"Nobody expects you to understand."

"I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more for you."

"I once knew your father. He fought tears as he spoke of your mother's health."

"Life is a gorgeous, broken gift."

"I'm the story that nobody has heard."

"Don't be afraid of what they think."

"I'll keep you safe."

"You're loved. So loved."

"Nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart."

"We'll closer to heaven than we'll ever know."

"I can't decide if I'm living or dying."

"Nothing's ever felt so sure until you stood next to me."

"You'll always remember the day God took her/him away."

"We are made of love. And when love breaks, we break."

"Cry yourself to sleep if you must."

"If time is money, then I'll spend all my money on you."

"They say that time heals all. I wish time could just reset."

"Darkness will be rewritten."

"I feel like we're just taking turns at falling apart."

"Fear is an illogical math -- an impractical skill to have."

"I'll be brave when you're frightened."

"Wrists get tired, rewriting futures."

"If I had only known how it feels to be yours, I would have known what I was living for."

"We're conditioned to mourn our empty glass long before it pours our past."

"The heart keeps widening for change."

"So with this wrong, may you always know one thing: What little I have to give, I will give it all to you."

"I wanna be the man that wakes up to you."

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to...

♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes

♕: Holding hands

♖: Having their hair washed by your muse

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort

♙: Sharing a bed

♚: Head scratches

♛: Sharing a dessert

♜: Shoulder rubs

♝: Reading a book together

♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

♟: Patching up a wound

♤: Taking a bath together

♧: Your muse playing with their hair

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

♣: Back scratches

♥: Your muse crying about something

♦: Slow dancing

[highqueenofthenoldor]

“Curufinwë was her name, but by her mother she was called Fëanor, Spirit of Fire”

“Fëanor grew swiftly, as if a secret fire were kindled within her. She was tall, and fair of face, and masterful, her eye piercingly bright and her hair raven-dark; in the pursuit of all her purposes eager and steadfast. Few changed her courses by counsel, none by force. She became of all the Noldor, then or after, the most subtle in mind and the most skilled in hand.”

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Credit moving from left hand corner and going clockwise

1, 2 - Ted Nesbit, 3 - can no longer find source, 4, 5 - Noldorin Shields | House of Finwë by ~Luis Bejarano 6, 7, 8, 9 - can no longer find source, 10 - can no longer find source

If you see your image here and would like it removed please tell me. (It might take me a while as I’m in course at the moment)

Please do not remove this text if you reblog.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

((totheseareturning - Kano - "I've let you down again."

"No," she disagreed, placing her hand on a slumped shoulder and squeezing, "never that. There will be other opportunities and you will shine then."

[totheseareturning]

  "Some of the other youths, though I think mostly they’re parroting their parents, who are jealous indeed, although," he glanced up at her with a little proud longing smile, "as much of you and Atya as of me…my music is good, and creative, and I do work hard, but I’m odd, and my parents are brilliant and, unlike Nelyo, I don’t fight, no matter how hard they push me.”  He gave a little self-deprecating shrug, blushing furiously under the intoxicating passion of her defence, her praise, her love.

It gave him the courage to lean his head briefly on her shoulder as they walked.  ”Thank you, Amme, for the freedom of your library, and for speaking up for me - it is one thing to know they’re wrong, and another to hear it, especially from you.”  

Anticipation leapt in him, half eager and half queasy, like a stomach full of frogs.  She wanted to see - ! When he was ready.  Oh, Eru, with that to look forward to, would he ever be? It would have to be perfect…but then, she could help him improve it, too. 

"It…it is a language of music," he ventured, after a moment, darting a glance up at her face, "because there is no unified script, and so the student of one master must learn not only the canon but the writing of another and, to make it worse, often they are just similar enough to make the differences all the more confusing."

There he reined himself in.  He’d been babbling; Feanare, he knew, knew all that, and he did not want to seem a know-it-all, or an over-eager child, at least any more so than he already had!

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"A language of music," Fëanárë mused, intrigued by the idea. She did not know enough about music to be able to envision it but she could understand.

"That is something I have never heard of. You will face some troubles introducing a unified version of music writing, those who write their own styles will wish to hold onto them. Still, that is part of the challenge is it not," her eyes gleamed, "people can be bent and convinced. This language will need to be created first."

A language of music.

Her heart swelled with pride as she glanced to her son again. To envision such a thing. To want to create such a thing.

A language of music.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Fëanárë’s lips curled, just faintly, just for a moment, then finally that smile trying to get out won against her hard nature and it spread up her lips a little more, sympathetic and understanding.

"I wished the same thing," she said, "when this happened to me. I was but a babe, even younger than you. Thankfully we must only endure this the one year. Afterwards it ceases, and does just as you propose, the body goes back to sleep but thereafter it is ready to have a child.”

She eyed her daughter, “I do not need to tell you why having a child in the near future is inadvisable Makalaurë, you are a very smart child.”

She filled one of the soaking buckets with cold water, and put the smock and her child’s breech cloth into the water.

This was the laundry, and there was clean clothing on the table that the maid had been working at. She got her daughter a new breech cloth, and showed her the square basket with the rags.

"You fold them like such," she folded the carefully cut material up, "it should last you about two hours or so. Then you place the rag in a bucket to soak, and use a new one. I will place this basket in the downstairs privy just down from the laundry room so it is easier."

[goldenvoiced]

She did not speak immediately, instead listening to her mother’s words and trying to dole each bitter piece of information into swallowable bites. Only one year—well, now, that was a rather long time.

But it was the last part of the information that concerned her. “Two hours?” Her brows knotted up together. “Two hours—how long is the bleeding supposed to last? Is it regularly two hours throughout the bleeding?”

Makalaurë grabbed one of the rags out of the bin and considered it with great seriousness. It was solid enough, but she wondered if she could tolerate something thicker than this.

Just a year.

"Shouldn’t we get something that lasts longer? I would think going four hours much better." And after a moment, she added, "How am I going to survive so much lost blood?"

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"It might change," Fëanárë watched her daughter struggling with this new information, "you might bleed heavier than usual or you might bleed lightly. In the end you will learn to be able to tell when you need to change the cloth. And the bleeding... the bleeding lasts somewhere between three to five days. It will all depend upon what your body has decided is possible."

She put breech cloth and cloth wad together and handed it to her daughter, "now go put those on, it might feel a tad uncomfortable or unwieldy to have the cloth positioned so but you will adjust."

It took a moment of hunting to find Makalaurë a new smock which was a testament to how well behaved and neat she was.

She handed them to her second born and gently nudged her away. When her daughter was gone she picked up the basket of rags and moved it to the downstairs privy, waiting outside the door for her daughter to be done.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

It's been nearly a year. Pardon everyone. Life punched me in the face hard enough that I forgot I had this account.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

((totheseareturning - Kano - "I've let you down again."

"No," she disagreed, placing her hand on a slumped shoulder and squeezing, "never that. There will be other opportunities and you will shine then."

[highqueenofthenoldor]

  "Who said those things?" Fëanárë immediately asked him, prickling all over, "and how dare they, there is no one in Ea that can deny who you are, my son, and any who say other wise place irrelevant value on skills that do not define our people, or who are jealous and seek to hurt you. Ignore them! Ignore all of them. In your music I see a wealth of creation that is far beyond the works that come from the hands of many of the craftsmen amongst the Ñoldor.

She calmed herself, visible straightening her body out to release the sudden rush of rage, “I would very much like to see it,” She kept him close to her, “when you are ready of course. You have all of my library at your disposal should you need it.”

[totheseareturning]

"Some of the other youths, though I think mostly they’re parroting their parents, who are jealous indeed, although," he glanced up at her with a little proud longing smile, "as much of you and Atya as of me…my music is good, and creative, and I do work hard, but I’m odd, and my parents are brilliant and, unlike Nelyo, I don’t fight, no matter how hard they push me.”  He gave a little self-deprecating shrug, blushing furiously under the intoxicating passion of her defence, her praise, her love.

It gave him the courage to lean his head briefly on her shoulder as they walked.  ”Thank you, Amme, for the freedom of your library, and for speaking up for me - it is one thing to know they’re wrong, and another to hear it, especially from you.”  

Anticipation leapt in him, half eager and half queasy, like a stomach full of frogs.  She wanted to see - ! When he was ready.  Oh, Eru, with that to look forward to, would he ever be? It would have to be perfect…but then, she could help him improve it, too. 

"It…it is a language of music," he ventured, after a moment, darting a glance up at her face, "because there is no unified script, and so the student of one master must learn not only the canon but the writing of another and, to make it worse, often they are just similar enough to make the differences all the more confusing."

There he reined himself in.  He’d been babbling; Feanare, he knew, knew all that, and he did not want to seem a know-it-all, or an over-eager child, at least any more so than he already had!

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"Yes I believe they must be jealous also," Fëanárë sniffed and dismissed those that had said those words immediately from her consideration though she thought of the words some more. She hoped they had not sunk too deep a wound into her son. She knew the power of words. 

"I find it amusing that many seem to think that Nelyo is the pacifist in our family," they were beginning to make their way through the streets. Fëanárë could smell the fires within the houses where food was being turned out for the Lords and Ladies within. It put to mind that she had not thought to prepare anything for the evening meal. She altered their course, heading toward a bakery she knew would likely not yet be closed. 

Hopefully they might have something she could serve. Bread even. They had enough cold pickles and jams. They could eat plainly for a night. It wouldn't hurt them.

"A language of music," she considered. She knew the technicalities of music but her own grasp of it was slim. She had been taught to sing as a child by her mother. but her mother had not sung with words, or followed any known music. Whatever music her mother had taught her, the origins of it had gone with Therinde into Mandos. Fëanárë sighed outwards, realising she would likely be of no use to her son.

"Tell me more. What gave you the inspiration for this?" she encouraged, noticing her second-born had gone silent.

[spiritflux]

3-sentence drabble prompts (quote edition)

Send me one of the below prompts for a three-sentence drabble!

night of the unknown one foot in the grave the rain knocks only once foggy beginnings in the wake of destruction cat and mouse swallow the sun did you tell them the part where we die bad habit the lost boys the son of paradise raise your glass in an act of defiance scream until you’re humble the emptiness of nothingness the witch hunt goodbye sky I have loved you into oblivion nowhere at the edge of somewhere the vagabond luck of the draw endless summer like the ocean and the sky (we are connected somehow) the quiet hour nothing left to lose roads left in both of our shoes set my mind for open sky rain of stars

[highqueenofthenoldor]

curufinwefeanaro replied to your post:A Summary of Feanare's week

|| Oh my god who’s the other husband

Male version of Nerdanel XD 

[highqueenofthenoldor]

A Summary of Feanare's week

petitioned for her father to fuck Ingwe instead

pushed Indis off a cliff at Anaire's advice

now has two husbands but is better at multiple spouses than her father since she keeps them in separate universes.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

andsheremained replied to your post:andsheremained replied to your post:andsheremained...

Fëanárë, I will fill the soap with such ghastly things that you find only too late if you dare.

too late means too late >:U I can't unpush her.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

cabalisticdissonance replied to your post:// but what if…. matriarchy au….

And, what, we cut up lady instead? /duck

I am confused.

[cabalisticdissonance]

…No one will see it coming.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Excellent...

[highqueenofthenoldor]

andsheremained replied to your post:andsheremained replied to your post:andsheremained...

No cliffs.

Too late.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

andsheremained replied to your post:andsheremained replied to your post:No Feanare...

Don’t get mad, just turn them in the right direction~ …One that doesn’t involve the nearest cliff, either, dear.

So you're saying push Indis off a cliff?