An annual in-world holiday (not canon) and week-long fandom event that takes place on October's new moon and celebrates the anniversary of Morgoth being thrown out of Arda at the end of the War of Wrath. 2024: 2nd to 8th of October.
This is an event sideblog. The event will take place 2nd to 8th of October 2024
The theme of the event is Morgoth Into the Void Day, a yearly holiday in Middle Earth, invented by Eowyn7023 on Ao3, which celebrates the day when Morgoth was cast out into the Void.
Rules [link]
(tldr: gen, sfw, not much AI, no Feanorian-focus on other days)
If any of my prompts inspire you to create something that doesn't fit within those rules, you are welcome to post it to another event where it will fit better! Those prompts are free to use (I'm sorry if I'm stating the obvious). The rules are simply for what I will repost on this blog.
Prompts
Themes are wide and interpretable. The text in each day is meant as inspiration, not as a closed list of questions. I try to give inspirations for writing, images and music for each day + some more unusual media.
Oct 2nd – the War of Wrath
Oct 3rd – the Void
Oct 4th – the Everlasting Darkness
Oct 5th – the celebrations
Oct 6th – Morgoth in the Void
Oct 7th – legacy & irony (two sets of prompts)
Oct 8th – the end?
As I live in a different timezone than many of you (currently GMT+2 to be precise), I will announce the days at strange hour (at midnight in my timezone).
I will reblog works regardless of whether they are posted on the correct day (works posted too early will be reblogged on the relevant day, works posted at a later day of the event will simply be reblogged).
Ao3 collection [link]
I haven't yet decided how much will I moderate the collection, if at all.
Hey, so I wrote some smut with a passing mention of how Uruks celebrate Morgoth In The Void Day (Uruk dance party). I know it's late, and it's rated E. But I thought you might want to see it anyway. If you are allergic to smut, you can safely read until they kiss, and then stop.
Thank you! Yes, I am often squicked easily. And ... I'm not sure how to explain it well, but yes, I am allergic to it, this is a good way to phrase this.
Anyway it's very kind of you to tell me about it, especially after the event flopped (I will probably leave the blog existing, and one day when I'm in the mood I'll switch it into a non-timed collection of prompts and leave it be.
Also thank you for not including the link (I assume it was intentional), because in really not in the mood for "deciding what exactly I want to post, what to pay as links and what not at all". (Not sad, just tried because I'm having a lot of interesting, cool but mentally tiring irl stuff)
Also, I just spent a long while on AO3 trying to remember who you are, only to find you are the original creator of the holiday. I'm sorry. Yes, in definitely not at my peak mental capacity today 🤣
You are very kind and I wish I could reply to it with better social skills than a carrot.
Morgoth Back From the Void Day. Dagor Dagorah or whatever alternative you subscribe to.
Does he come back? How does he come back? In flames and terrible glory? Falling on his face like an idiot in front of someone who definitely was not expecting that? Sneakily creeping back, as before? Released by a too curious human scientist exploring something weird on Pluto?
What happens? Is there a battle? A war? Who is fighting it? Is it classic Turin-with-Anglachel, or tanks and vans and mecha and whatnot? Medieval weaponry or lasers? Possible crossovers: more or less anything with mecha; Mutant Chronicles;...
Or is there no fight at all, just... what?
How do you resolve discordant tones without throwing the whole piece into the thrash?
Also, as they don't get much focus, this is the day for anything related to Turin, Anglachel (Gurthang), and, by extension, Anguirel too.
(I will probably not learn to think in USA timezones before the world breaks, so the posts are posted according to my clock... You know the drill. ;) Post your things any time you want, may be much later too. Better late than never.)
Morgoth is gone but the seeds of evil are still there. Dark cults. Late Numenor. People who believe they have won, they are powerful, they defeated evil for good... Dramatic irony.
Again, celebrations of the holiday through the ages, but now it's dark: happy on the surface but full of jealousy, deceit, and violence. We celebrate Morgoth being gone, but we do as he did anyway. The meaning is forgotten, only the trappings of a holiday remain.
Also, much earlier, how do the ex-thralls celebrate the end of the War? How do they celebrate the next year and the next...? do they heal? Do they learn to be happy, to feel truly free again? Do they have their own, separate celebrations, more quiet and solemn?
Or if you prefer more optimistic content:
Day 6 - 7.10.2024 - not only
No matter how he tried, in the end good came of his evil. It took a lot sometimes, but anyway.
Jazz. Or blues, if you prefer. Any kind of music that is built on harmonies and tools that classicists would hate, but still is beautiful.
Fire and ice in all their splendor. Flames. Snowflakes.
Gold. The beauty of the Sun rising and all those things we wouldn't have without Melkor messing things up. Technically, this includes Men and Elves. But I suggest we focus on the asymmetric landmasses, volcanoes, weather and so on.
Men being imperfect. Elros (and sometimes Elrond, but less) being weird in the eyes of Elves. Beauty in imperfection.
Does he even exist anymore? If yes, what does he think? He's got a lot of time there to think. Is he alone? Are there nameless horrors? Does he go "I messed up" at any point? Does he dream? If so, what does he dream about?
Is he furious? sad? Delusional and lost in dreams of his victory? Empty? Is he anything at all?
Also, this is the day for character studies of the Dark Lord and exploring of how he got to this point. Was it avoidable? When was his point of no return? Was there one at all?
How do you harmonize discordant tones?
Morgoth broken, fragmented, dissolving into darkness. Is that even Melkor anymore, is it something else altogether? His power is poured into Arda, but canon suggests it slowly seeps back to where it belongs. How does it look like?
Are there stars in the Void? How does he feel about them or lack of them?
Is Morgoth sometimes visible as a dark shape, blocking the stars, a reminder of what's to come? Who watches the sky and sees him?
What are the Door of Night and how does Earendil feel about them?
"Nothing is evil in the beginning" (but it needs a better title, this line is too overused) (for @morgoth-into-the-void-week day 4)
Melkor character study. Surprisingly no TWs, despite sticking close to canon. If I even get this far in the timeline, there won't be drastic descriptions.
But we're in his head (3rd person) and watch him spiral downwards. I guess this may be unsettling. As for now I got through Ainulindale and it's pretty benign in my opinion. A lot of unheatlthy emotions though.
Why do I love writing characters who are wrong? For the irony? Maybe.
No "thee" this time, because the format is weird already. I hope it's readable enough. It is a bit experimental in form. I also hope to some day finish it all the way back to the Void.
Fic below cut.
"I can handle this."
"You can't. You would unmake yourself in an instant. You need to learn. I love you."
"I could. I know I could." He lunges into the void, seeking, yearning, burning to create. It's empty. It shouldn't be empty. He will make it full. "I can handle this."
"Come, meet your kin. Learn them, learn with them. I love you."
"I will. Later. I need to see what's there, I need to find It, I know You will let me one day, I need to. I will learn them later."
"You have to choose. I love you."
"I can do both. I can handle this."
A melody comes, and it's stranger than the Void.
He makes it even stranger, stretches it into far reaches of his thought, far into the Void, where he can make it into something that never have been. And singing it, changing it, making it kindles a light in his heart. It's almost what he had longed for. It is something where there was nothing. But then he stops singing and it fades, and what was it's not no more.
"Almost" is not enough.
He sings again, there is something in the motive, something yearning for an answer, if he could only find it.
"Come, sing with your brother, learn to harmonize with him. I love you."
"I need to understand first! I can't let anyone muddle the question before I find the answer! I can handle this, I can find it, I will not fail You."
"You will. But I love you, Melkor."
He sings louder, desperate to hear it, to grasp it. It's still not loud enough. He needs to grow. So Melkor stretches into the Void, trying to be more than he is. Melkor. That his name. It fits.
Everyone gathers and Melkor meets many of his kin for the first time. Still, his thoughts are wandering through the Void, seeking the answer. When he manages to become fully present and feels the others, the Music has already begun.
It had begun and continued, changing. Not like one motive, explored back and forth in his mind, in his singing, but... Like a line. It had more of this strange quality of passing and then being no more. It was beautiful, but boring, slow. When will we get to filling the Void?
The others sang wrong. It wasn't the song Melkor had been given, it was simpler. Less important. Melkor sang louder to lead them into a more worthy music.
They didn't want to be led and started quarreling. He added more ideas, showing them what could be, what he could make if they stopped slowing him down. If they let his questions bloom to their full glory, if they let him seek the answers undisturbed. Yes, they were trying to help, he was aware of this. But they only slowed him down. He could handle it by himself.
Some managed to help a little, though, adding to his song, and it grew even mightier. But still not mighty enough.
A new theme appeared, but it didn't help, as most of his "kin" still didn't understand anything. A few went quiet, a few more joined him, but this still wasn't enough. Why? Why would they not understand?
Melkor sang as loud as he could, turning his voice into a defeaning roar, yet still, they opposed him. Even his so-called brother. Mostly him.
How could they all be so stupid, so— there was no concept for this. How they sang was— it was like imagining a wrong solution to a problem, but without the "imagining" part. It made Melkor feel things he'd never known before, and they were not entirely unpleasant.
There was strength in this feeling. He channeled this new sensation into his song and many of the others finally shut up.
Then, before Melkor could develop his theme, another break.
He resumed his song, accompanied by some others, seeking... What was he seeking? The quiet countermelody, too slow, too chromatic and yet not tense enough, distracted him.
…He had been asking a question. It had been important. And his foolish "kin" made him lose it.
He would find it again. He was the mightiest, if he wouldn't find it, than no one would. And it was too beautiful to be lost forever. So, he had to.
But first he needed to convince the others, to make them understand that they were singing wrong. They kept stealing his chords, harmonizing them into something unbearable, something... painful. The pain was another new thing.
Another sudden break, halfway as something was beginning, something—
"Melkor, my beloved child. There cannot be a wrong music, none of you can change it against Me even if you try. And if anyone dares, they will prove a part of my plan still, and they will witness beauty beyond their furthest imagining. I love all of you."
All of them. But when it came to a reprimand, Melkor is mentioned specifically. Even thought they were the ones singing wrong.
That hurts.
A Vision appeared before them, solidifying again the order of Time, but Melkor didn't pay much attention to it. And hearing that he was but a part, but an insignificant embellishment—
Something changed.
New beings appeared, like the Ainur but yet unlike. How? How was that not impossible? So fragile, and yet they had a depth to them, and a blinding newness. Something inside them called to Melkor: an answer and a question. He needed to understand. And those creatures, those silver and gold juxtapositions, moved erratically and yet too slowly, not letting him see clearly, not letting him—
What? He started in amazement at how much those Children (was he not enough?) were given, waiting. But no gifts were offered to him, or any of the Ainur; not even to his boring, obedient brother.
Why? A tempest swirled in him, those feelings he'd put before into Music, and a piercing longing. It was as if the whole last part of the Song sounded in his heart.
Melkor pushed it back.
He could handle those feelings, nobody needed to know how lost he was. He would find himself quickly. He'd got enough reprimands already, he didn't need to make it worse by asking stupid questions. Apparently he wasn't good enough. Well, he would prove himself. He could handle this.
First, he had to make this messy place worthy of those tiny, absurd creatures endowned with such gifts. Which, of course, meant that he had to work against most of his so-called "kin", who understood nothing of it.
Why did he always have to do the hardest work?
But he was the mightiest. He could handle this.
the Vision is gone, interrupted earlier even than the Music, and there is Darkness. How can it be gone, after Melkor has put so much effort into it? It hurts, but he can't show that. He has to be mighty. To prove himself.
The Darkness seems to look at him with too many eyes, and he needs to hide his pain his secrets from it, so that it doesn't interfere with his plans. Most of the Ainur look at him with anger, and even the few who joined him shy back in fear. But Melkor needs every tool he can have, so he decides that being feared is a good thing.
"I know that you long for the world to be, that you yearn to meet and know something unlike you, and yet akin, separate and yet real. I love you all, and so—
How did it feel when the war ended? When the ships of Valinor sailed back? The Men were given a new land and they were full of hopes.
Happy people, finally able to relax and really live. New beginnings. There is peace, there is food, all is right. For now. But it is.
When the Host of Valinor returns, do they celebrate too? Or do they mourn their lost ones? Both? Does Manwë celebrate?
How is the Morgoth Into the Void Day celebrated through the later ages? (This whole thing was inspired by a happy feast in Rivendell.) Was it still celebrated at all after Numenor fell, when it seemed that all the victories were empty and just replacing one Dark Lord with another?
Is it celebrated in Hobbiton? Are they fireworks? Does Gandalf explain the origin of the day to young hobbits? what about Rohan? Gondor? Whatever your favorite location is?
Happy songs about the end of an age, their meaning slowly lost in time, turned to children's rhymes repeated without much thought.
Also, as it is the day of celebrations, food! Bake something to celebrate! Cook something! Also, greeting cards!
How many things I like or liked can I reference in one picture? Many. 🙂 (except the obvious, there is one reference to art, serious art, the kind that is in a museum. I wonder if anyone finds it, it's quite hidden. I loved this artist when I was 12 or so.)
@morgoth-into-the-void-week day 3: Everlasting Darkness
The Feanorians steal the show (as they always do). This is the day to indulge in your impulse (if you have it) to include them. This is their day.
Are they in the Void? Why are they in the Void? why are they not in the Void? Or is Everlasting Darkness something else than the Void to which Morgoth was thrown?
Do they meet Morgoth there? Do they meet something weird and dark and unspeakable? Do they met themselves and each other and that is worse than any Voidish horrors?
Do they stay there? If not, how do they escape? Or does someone help?
Does Maglor sing into the silence? Does he sing Noldolante? Does the silence care?
Also: Feanorians not in the Void, but reacting to Morgoth being thrown away and/or celebrating. This includes the ones in the Halls of Mandos, and Miriel (who is not a Feanorian, but anyway).
For @morgoth-into-the-void-week day 2: the Void. Again, not much Morgoth in this, mostly talking about… well, about today's topic. Science/philosophy without plot. I think I like those.
Athrabeth Finrod an Ilmare
AKA too much astronomy
"I don't know," said Ilmare with a smile, just as Finrod approached her and bowed. She sat on the grass, among bloming white crocuses, contrasting against her dark blue robe. A wide view of Aman stretched in front of them, perfectly clear despite the height.
Finrod smiled too, partially to chase away his irritation. "I haven't even said anything."
"Everyone knows your kind of questions. The fate of Men. And Elves. And the end of Arda. Why else would you climb up here?"
"I was visiting my grandmother, it's not far to climb here from her house. Yes, I decided to use this opportunity to ask you a question, my lady. But it has less to do with death or time, and more with the far reaches of the sky."
"Sit down then, as this may be a long discussion. Time and the far reaches… they are not as different as you may think. But ask, then, so that I will not keep answering the wrong questions."
Finrod sat somewhat below her, as respect for a Maia dictated, but still close enough to make the conversation feel more friendly than formal. "What is the Door of Night? What lies beyond it?"
Ilmare blinked. "Is this about your cousins?"
"No, not really. I know— I met them." Finrod shook his head, focusing on happier thoughts. "It's about many things. About the limits of Ea. Earendil goes through the Door, and yet he does not leave it. But when Morgoth was thrown… The way Lord Manwë spoke about it, everybody spoke about it was as if he ceased to exist, or at least, if that's even possible, somewhat ceased. Yet, it is said that he will one day return and Earendil—" He stopped, seeing Ilmare's displeased expression.
"Said by whom?"
Finrod moved away, even moreso with his mind than his body. "The wise."
"If so, then they aren't as wise as you deem them. Who would say such things? Rúmil? It does sound like Rúmil. I am not demanding an answer. I do respect your willingness to protect the reputation of others. Even if they are not wise." She shook her head, silver hair sparkling in the sun. "Whoever said this, do not take your lore from them. I can show you the limits of Ea."
For a while he did not know what to say.
"Not the limits you seem more interested in," added Ilmare, "but one that shall answer this question."
An invitation hung in the air, an unseen plea, and Finrod yielded to it. Darkness seemed to surround him, filled with countless stars, and in the middle of the darkness there was something like a ring, or a star that was empty inside, a crown of fire surrounding a deep darkness not unlike the one that came when the Trees had died. The starlit void twisted around it.
"The Door of Night lead to Ilmen, through which Earendil sails." Those words seemed to echo in the emptiness around, spoken in Ilmare's clear, melodic voice. "And nothing can leave Ea within Time, or enter it, except spirits of the Children. And prayers, messages, yes, this too. But as for beings, only the spirits of the both kindreds may come, and the spirits of Men may leave. And yet—"
The empty star seemed to move closer, but its shape twisted and trembled, like a miswrought glamour.
"Unfortunately, I do not know how do they look when seen with bodily eyes, and I can imagine only this much. Those things do not have a name, but I think of them as Doors of Nothing, or Doors of Forever. Nothing living can stand their closeness. Nothing that is of the matter of Ea. I tried to look at them embodied, but couldn't— they unravel everything that is not spirit. They unravel the Time itself."
Ice crept up Finrod's spine and he was suddenly back on the sunny meadow, trembling, his heart racing.
Ilmare stared at him.
"So—" he managed to say "—so it is, indeed, terrible? but no, it can't— It can't be."
She smiled gently, and slowly reached towards his head, and when he leaned in, started stroking his hair, as if Finrod was but a child. And like a child he did feel now.
"No, it is not terrible. It is strange, and not meant to be touched. But those are part of Ea, and, as each part, necessary. They proved necessary. For you see, Morgoth was bound to his body, by his own choices, but nonethless strongly."
Her hand at his head was warm and calming, and Finrod closed his eyes, letting the sun color his vision red.
Ilmare continued. "And those Doors… if we looked at Morgoth, if I showed you the one he was thrown into, when he reaches it —which I will not show you, as you are already scared enough— you would see him forever falling, stoped in place, unable to reach the center. But for him, from what my lady told me, for him it is a mere moment, and then he falls. And then nobody knows, but I think this means that we shall meet him when Time itself ends, because only then those two stories can meet."
For him? For us? This was not how time was supposed to work. And yet, if Lady Varda herself had said that… "I think I need some time to think about what you told me. Thank you, my lady, and I apologize for rejecting your vision."
Ilmare looked at him with a warm smile. "You do not need to apologize. I know that the Children are scared by things we cannot predict, and amazed by surprising things, and enraged… After all those years, you are still a riddle to us. Please, visit me if you will have more questions, I did enjoy this conversation. I will try to be less terryfying the next time."
As the Maia went away, and the last glimmer of silver embroidery of her cloak dissapeared behind the turn of a mountain path, Finrod lay on the meadow. Something she had said echoed in his head, but he couldn't say what. It still felt like a riddle than like an answer, but neverthless it pulled at his heart softly but deeply, with the feeling he hadn't felt since he died. What had she said? What about the empty star was so important?
No matter how terryfying the vision had been, this was just the beginning of his research.
What even is it? Is it non-existence? Outer space? Something evil? What (lives?) dwells there? Can nothingness be evil? On the other hand, can evil exist as something more than lack of goodness?
Images on dark background, defined by negative space.
What was Ungolianth and where did she come from? What about the Nameless Horrors?
What is the role of silence in music?
And even further than that - there's the Beyond where Men go when they die. Morgoth claimed (to Hurin and to the ancestors of Men) that he's the master of the Void and there's nothing more. Discussions between Morgoth and Hurin (I bet they talked more about that, they had a lot of time), between Men, between Sauron and Ar-Pharazon...
Why are most people afraid of the darkness between the stars?
Also, there's a strange connection between darkness and textile arts. Ungolianth weaves darkness. Luthien is weird and weaves a shadow to hide. Vaire the weaver is the wife of Namo, doomsman and keeper of the dead. And Miriel died. In a place where nobody was supposed to die, even more than anywhere else. So this is the day for textile arts, even very loosely related. As long as it's dark and a little eldritch, and made of strings, fabrics and threads, it's fine.
Crossover potential: Nobilis, Chuubo's any setting that has the concept of Void-between-worlds (Exalted, even). Neverending story? Cthulhu mythos. Potentially WFRP40k, Skyward and anything that has creepy-philosophical-warp-space.
(again: timezones are a mess, the hour doesn't matter this much, you can post your things early or late, or even very late, the Void does not care about timezones)
For @morgoth-into-the-void-week A fic-thing. Surprisingly non-Morgoth-centric and very normal. Character study without plot. (The character in question is Manwë.)
"War of Wrath, they shall name it," said Námo, when the trumpets finished their fanfare.
Manwë closed his eyes — a Children's way to express emotion. He enjoyed those. It might have been due to the amount of conversations he'd had with Ingwë.
Now his Vanya friend sat silent while most of his people marched onto the ships in the Swan Haven. As Manwë's heart and hope told him, this would go better than the other journey that had started there. But still, many would die. This didn't need much foresight to tell.
But what else could they do?
When the ship came, with the shining, scared, somewhat lost half-elf and one of the three hallowed jewels of holy light, there was no other answer. Manwë had tried explaining it to Ingwë, but the Elda asked questions. Why? Why solve the problems of the Noldor, after all they had done? And if so, why only now?
Explaining the first proved near impossible, because Manwë could not understand Ingwë's question well enough.
The Noldor did ask for help. At least Earendil had been one of them, partially, and heir of a king. So this meant the Valar were allowed to intervene, without disrespecting the freedom of the Elves. The Sindar too, as Elwing was a Sinda. The Noldor did ask for help, despite it not being possible after all they had done.
But this apparently wasn't the question Ingwë was asking. What was it then?
"Why now?" was easier to answer. It felt right. Like the right note in melody. Something about how Earendil came fit into… into the Music. And now the sailor's parents, having been long lost in the Shadowy Seas, landed not long after him, confused, but happy. Ingwë asked many questions about them too, especially about Tuor. The questions were polite of course, and pleasant to hear. The king of the Vanyar was inquisitive like a child. It was sweet, even when Manwë did not know how to answer him.
And now the Vanyar, the lovely, curious Vanyar, sailed to a war with Morgoth.
"His wrath shall be terrible, but what else could we do?" asked Manwë.
Námo did not move, and spoke dispassionately as usual. "They shall say that it was our wrath."
Varda, as often, said nothing, but her pain tugged at the edge of Manwë's spirit, adding to his own.
Our? They had for long thought how to stop Morgoth with as little damage to everyone else as possible. Manwë had counseled with Eonwë about how much Maiar were needed in the army, with Yavanna and Aulë about how not to break the entire land and all that lived there. And yet, there was no way to win without grave consequences.
Did he feel wrath? Was this feeling of inevitability it? Or this decisive pain of something ending? This moment when he looked upon Morgoth's empire, and knew that so much evil had been done that something broke, something new needed to be done? Was this wrath?
Manwë did not know. His herald maybe would, but the poor boy had enough hardships awaiting him already, and never liked such discussions anyway.
"I hope they will forgive us, then," he replied to Námo, and Ingwë narrowed his lips, but said nothing.
The war went on, in blood and burning flames, year after year. The army reached Angband, and Eonwë had to watch, had to witness all of it, especially in those days when Manwë channeled his power through his poor, somehow still too young for this war, herald, and as it cleaned the earth, they both felt the anguish of countless prisoners and slaves, the pain that had seeped deep into the stone for centuries. He didn't do as much as the others, and yet, what Eonwë had to stand was too much. Still, it was better this way than if Manwë himself went there. It did less damage than his mere presence would.
And then, sfter Angband had been torn apart, the thing that had been his brother was dragged out, crying and pleadings and screaming, and Manwë couldn't say anything. What was there to say? What was there that hadn't been said already?
He felt a gentle and sorrowful question tugging at his spirit, and as he replied with an invitation, Nienna came into his throne room, and without saying a word stood in front of him, crying, understanding even those feelings he could not explain to his own wife (and she deserved better than having them explained to her). Shock and disbelief, even after millennia. Relief that it's finally over. Pain. How was this even possible, to lose someone so entirely? And yet it was.
He sat in silence, then turned to Ingwë. "You braid your hair for mourning, don't you?"
"We do, my lord." The king's own hair was braided, which made this question moot, but even so, Manwë would rather seem as slow as some Noldor called him in their whispers, than skip the politeness of starting a conversation gently, especially with a Vanya, who valued politeness and kindness so high.
"thou art free to refuse me if so thou willst, or if it is not proper for someone other than the Eldar to use your custom, but canst thou teach me that braiding?"
Ingwë blinked. He had learned to somewhat accept the concept of the Valar needing to learn things, especially about the Children, but it was still a difficult concept for him. "If you wish so, my lord... There are different braiding for different occasions. I suppose you want one for the loss of your subjects, as I am currently wearing?"
Manwë took a deep breath — another expression he'd learned from his Vanya friend — and the room filled with gusts of wind. "Yes, but also, forgive me that I don't know how to say it more gently, for my brother. He was my brother. And that I cannot change, even if I wanted to."
He cut those braids off later, looking at the closing rectangular darkness in the sky, now heavily guarded.
He didn't feel anything.
Maybe it was because this body wasn't really him, not in a way like— like the Children. Maybe it wasn't at all supposed to make the feelings pass. One way or another, the pain was still there, accompanied by the relief and disbelief.
He turned to Varda and saw her smile, and felt her smile deeply, for the first time since Ages.
Manwë smiled too and finally felt that something new has truly begun.
The destruction. The survivors. The warriors. Weapons, armors and coats of arms. Battles. Battle horns and marching songs.
We know Eonwe was there, but was he the only Maia? Was our favorite Olorin there? How did he experience it? (Ot any other Maia you want to write about or to draw or whatever media.)
How did it feel for Elves, and, especially, Men, to fight alongside Ainur?
It lasted 30 years, a whole generation grew among the chaos and braking of land. Elrond and Elros, but also countless unnamed others.
Why is it called the War of Wrath? Whose wrath is it? The Valar? they didn't intervene before Earendil begged them. Morgoth's? The people of Beleriand, tornmented for so long?
How did it feel for people to see the host of Valinor arriving? How did it feel when the war ended?
Feanorians are not in the Darkness Everlasting: 41 votes. over 1/3 of all votes.
Void is not the same as Darkness Everlasting: 30 votes.
Together the majority opinion is that they aren't in the same place/state/whatever. Good for the Feanorians.
From the 29 votes on various options where they are in the same Void:
6 on them not interacting:
Because it's too vast: 3 votes.
Because they don't exist anymore: 2 votes.
For other reason: 1 vote.
6 votes on the interaction question being invalid, because indyvidual identity in the Void gets fuzzy. I wonder how many of you played Nobilis.
14 votes on them interacting:
6: they fight each other
6: they fight spiders and Nameless Things (together) (I want this fic, I should probably go write it).
1 on they can't interact anyway (just get scared by wach other I guess)
Capturing and killing / transforming the elves (first violence on Incarnates)
Fake remorse before and/or after his imprisonment
Killing the Trees with Ungolianth
Arien
Corrupting Men
The Silmarils (stealing, wearing, generally their influence on him...)
Something else (in comments).
There wasn't an absolute point of no return.
Voting ended onSep 9, 2024
I had an option for "Killing Finwë: first violence on a named character ;) " but I think Arien is more important (a whole new kind of evil) than having a cool joke option.
I suppose many people would instinctively say "Finwë" because he is the most memorable one, but it wasn't Melkor's first murder. Far from it.
Well, ok, maybe the fact that Feanor cursed him makes the Finwe situation special… but I already have full 12 options so this isn't going to be an option. Another character calling you names isn't a point of no return in Tolkien, even if that character is Feanor.
First evils, seeking the Flame Inperisheable etc: 4 votes. With some reblogs suggesting that he was evil from the start (but I did not include this option very much on purpose).
Ainulindale: the discord and all: 6 votes.
Entering Arda with evil intent: 14 votes. Yes, I am not surprised this one in high.
Initial havoc (lanterns etc): no votes. Nobody cares for the lanterns, except Aulë. ;)
Capturing and killing / transforming the elves (first violence on Incarnates): 47 votes. Oh. I am abslutely not surprised. This was terrible. :( This option won the poll by far. Almost half of all votes.
Fake remorse before and/or after his imprisonment: 10 votes.
Killing the Trees with Ungolianth: 13 votes.
Arien: 1 vote.
Corrupting Men: 2 votes. Huh? OK, I know this is a one I have more issues with than most fandom, it's not even really fully canon (at least the narrow canon of "in the Silm").
The Silmarils (stealing, wearing, generally their influence on him...): 3 votes.
Something else: 1 vote: Not learning despite being in Mandos for the equivalent of 3000-ish normal years. Yea, that is a thing. I imagine he was very focused on counting time till he can try to what do you call it... parole?
There wasn't an absolute point of no return.: 12 votes. I am surprised 11 people agree with me on that, but it is technically also sort of most canon answer, I think.
