#emyn-arnens

[lady-of-ithilien]

For the sensory headcanons, 3, 8, and 13 for Éowyn!

Thank you so much for these lovely prompts— I always appreciate the asks you send for these games and enjoy answering them so much!

3. Their favourite kind of view:

I think Éowyn delights in many landscapes and would probably have trouble picking just one sort of view that she loves; I imagine that her upbringing in the Riddermark makes her partial to those grasslands that unfold beneath wide open sky, and as I explored in my most recent WIP chapter, I think she also found great comfort and beauty in looking up at the high peaks of the White Mountains when she was living in Meduseld. That said, I think as she moves into her new life in the fourth age, Éowyn finds joy in all manner of new landscapes too: the light-filled woodlands and cool glens of Ithilien; her gardens at Emyn Arnen in the height of summer, overflowing with colorful flowers and textured greenery; the sight of the Anduin gleaming like copper in the sunset as it flows to the sea. I also imagine that Éowyn seizes opportunities to travel and fill her life with new places and experiences, after spending so many years yearning to escape from the confines of her role in the Golden Hall. She probably travels with Faramir to Dol Amroth and is astounded by the sight of the endless blue sea, and maybe also at some point she goes to the Shire, and after spending most of her life in the drier more rain-shadowed east, she is surprised by how the northwest of Middle Earth can contain so much green. So, that is quite a long answer, but I think the distillation of that is that Éowyn loves quite a number of different views, so long as they are wild and open, and filled with life (all things that grow and are not barren).

8. Their favourite scents:

The smell of damp earth after a sudden rain, the scent of dewy leaves on a summer morning in her garden, the smell of leather in the tack room, and the lingering scent of fire smoke that remains on her clothes and hair after a night spent around a fire under the stars

13. Their ideal climate and weather:

I strongly headcanon Éowyn as woman of sunlight and summer; I have a whole forthcoming essay on seasonal imagery that Tolkien uses in her character arc, but the Tl;dr is that I think Éowyn’s “winter” was always destined to melt into spring and then blossom into summer as she recovers from her trauma and finds new life and hope after the war of the ring. Thus, I imagine that she is someone who delights in sunlight and warmth. Given where she grew up, I envision her loving a warm, dry afternoon wind that blows down the mountains and over the plains. As I’ve also mentioned in my little ficlet a few weeks back, I think that Éowyn loves thunderstorms (she is “a fool for thunder” as @torchwood-99 so aptly put in their prompt to me!); she loves to dance in the rain and feel the raw energy and emotion that comes with the wildness of a thunderstorm; she sees aspects of her own self and emotional experience reflected in that and it gives her an opportunity to really let go and enjoy something with abandon (an experience that was not often afforded to her). Thus, I think she thrives in the warm climate of Ithilien, so long as she occasionally gets to dance in a storm.

Alright, that got a bit long, but thank you SO much for this lovely, lovely set of asks!! These were truly a treat to reflect on and answer. <3

[searchingforserendipity25]

Hi! For the ask game, Maedhros and aftermath? — @emyn-arnens

Thank you @emyn-arnens! Tw: character death, mentions of torture, chronic pain.

-

"Explain yourself again," Maedhros suggested, eyes on the far wall. "But do so without saying Finrod be dead."

Curufin could not manage it. Nor Celegorm, great orator though he was. A rare silence, and for once unwanted. 

Maedhrosstruggled to look at them, and their very faces were an unwanted silence, closed around their own guilt, barely wise enough to know not to speak, when Maedhros had such an ache in his pain that he needed to keep his eyes on anything close at hand. 

 The worst of it was how easily Maedhros could credit it. And what a selfishness it was, to account that as the worst thing! Felagund the beloved deserved much better. From all of them, from the very world; but the sons of Fëanor most of all. 

Maedhros considered the walls of his solar. Sometimes he thought familiarity brought an excess of contempt - on decent spells, when he did not loathe the slate and the granite for having witnessed the worse times.

 He would look at the carvings and not hate them; hold his brushes and grind the ink, and not resent the effort of the motion, the maddening repetition. 

There were times when he remembered the stagnant glory of Valinor, and thought familiarity was a poison that sank over even the loveliest of apartments. 

Himring the Bitter was not that. 

All the same: he was wretchedly tempted to throw his brothers out to the mires where the bison made their business and leave him alone in his solar.

His head had not been paining him, for once, nor the strain of eyes or the ache of his shoulder and back, It had not been a bad spell, before his brothers came from Nargothrod; Maedhros had almost enjoyed it, stood by the narrow windows and felt the inkling of being in the aftermath of the Sudden Flame and his own body's demands, had almost loved his own rooms in his own quiet. 

Felagund had been kind about it. Kinder than his brothers often were; careful with his voice, when it trebled too high, kept to Maglor’s signing, made no mention of Maedhros’ glasses, the times when he washed his face to try to cool the pressure around his face. 

He had been kind, when they went hunting together, and in his letters as well, never pressing for a swift reply as Caranthir did, patient and mindful that some days the dizziness of Thangorodrim left him disoriented, dazed. Had been kind, about Maedhros’  betrayal, and the long aftermath that was his survival. 

No survival from Gorthaur’s hounds would be had. Maedhros knew this well. The best that could be done for Felagund was to rouse some sense from the silence, and suffer the grim work of surviving him.

 "I," Maedhros said. "Am going to need details. And then I am going to need you to leave, and punish yourselves in what manner you deem fit to our customs, and leave me to pick up my thrice-cursed brush to send many grievous letters to every king I can think of, and weep a little. But firstly sit down, and say your piece."

[thelordofgifs]

1, 12, and 21 for the ask game! — @emyn-arnens

(choose violence ask game)

1. the character everyone gets wrong

you know… I don’t think there is one? I’m not violent enough for this ask game clearly. There are certainly bad interpretations I’ve seen of many popular characters (Maedhros, Maglor, Fingon, Fëanor spring to mind in particular) but they aren’t universal. Let’s go with Fingon though – I HAVE seen him written well by a lot of people, but the trick with him is that he is complicated and multifaceted and if you don’t acknowledge that and write him as just “Maedhros’ boyfriend” you are not going to have a very compelling portrayal of him. He’s a murderer he’s a hero he’s god-blessed he’s abandoned by almost everyone he loves and he still has so much desperate hope LET FINGON BE FUCKED UP PLEASE.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

oh no I’m too hive-minded for this one, I dislike most of the unpopular characters :( is Curufin unpopular? Can I say Curufin? Because I do actually like him a lot these days! He’s awful but his awfulness is SO understandable – that name! Canonically being Fëanor’s favourite son! How he’s the only Fëanorian to have a child of his own! How incredibly ride-or-die he is for Celegorm!! SO much to chew on aaahh. I didn’t care about him much before I started writing the fairest stars and now I love him actually so… shameless self-plug go and read my fic and then you’ll like him too :)

[southfarthing]

🌸 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog. 🌸 — @emyn-arnens

thank you lovely!!!!! 💛

i can wiggle my eyebrows

idk if you can tell but I'm fully in my hunger games era again 😭 cannot stop thinking about tbosas

I started a new job two weeks ago and it's going well!!! and in a couple of weeks they're giving me a laptop so i can start working one day a week from home because I learned it fast ✌️😌 good grade in training 💅

[grey-gazania-fic]

Trick or treat! 🎃 — @emyn-arnens

@emyn-arnens || ask box trick or treat

Here's a snippet from that kidnap fam outsider POV ficlet that I'm still chipping away at:

As Ada had said, I met the boys the next morning. As was usual, I was watching over Nelmir and Arthoron, who up until now had been the only other child at Amon Ereb besides my brother and me. Lord Maglor brought Elwing’s sons to me, telling me to keep an eye on them, and I introduced my brother and his friend to the newcomers.

“Nelmir,” I said, once Lord Maglor had left the room. “Arthoron. Lord Maglor has brought you two new friends. This is Elrond and his brother Elros. They’ll be living here at Amon Ereb with us now.” I was, of course, careful not to bring up any of the details my father had confided in me. Elwing’s sons surely needed no explanation of their current situation, and it was the sort of thing Nelmir and Arthoron didn’t need to know.

I had to confess, if only to myself, that I was only able to tell Elrond from Elros due to the differing color of their tunics. They were uncannily alike in face, even more so than Lords Amrod and Amras had been. They seemed to be alike in voice, too, though that was harder to say for certain, as neither of them talked all that much; at first they did little but frown, one expression spread across two identical faces. My brother didn’t seem to mind; he filled the silence with his usual nonstop chatter, something Arthoron at least was used to. Little finch, Nana often called Nelmir, for he was forever chirping away like an excited bird.

[murphfight]

I just realized I completely forgot to send you an ask for the WIP title game! Please, please tell me about "how to say farewell to the only family you have left but three times over for each of them" 👀 — @emyn-arnens

hehe YES i LOVE this one and i feel like you will too lol. essentially its a very extended set of scenes (think rotk six ending scenes energy) over which faramir comes to terms with leaving minas tirith behind for…not really for GOOD but for the longest time he ever has and undertaking the longest hardest journey he’s ever been on. well i called it that because i write basically solely character dynamics and so each one is centred around saying his goodbyes to his father and his brother in each of the different roles that they play in his life. ive always loved playing with names and titles and levels of formality in interactions between the same people in the different things they mean to one another and it was VERY fun to be like. well boromir and faramir saying their last goodbye immediately followed by the captain-general farewelling his second. the things they can't say and the things they know they're saying. and contrasting that with denethor and faramir where the line btwn father-and-son and steward-and-captain is WAY more blurry and they DONT really know how to talk to each other without some of that duty and a lot of their personal issues creeping into it.

it starts with in the middle of the night denethor and faramir have a civil conversation as father and son for probably the first time in ten years it's a lot of faramir's complicated feelings about his father. like a LOT of them. resolving into. well no matter what has passed between us i am glad we have this one conversation where we can part kindly. here is this part of those complicated feelings. god when they understand exactly what the other is saying and CHOOSE to misinterpret them.

Faramir knows he does not say this to doubt the strength of his company, only to state a truth. Ithilien has ever been a tenuous position, and to hold it in recent months has taken all the shrewdness of Faramir’s tactical mind. There are few he himself would appoint to bear that strain. Yet it is still doubt, and he cannot help but bristle. “There is strength in Ithilien that is not yet spent,” he says pointedly, a cold note to his voice. “I do not doubt it,” returns his father, equally frigid. He looks Faramir in the eye, grey to grey, and his gaze turns merely cool. “Yet to be the forlorn hope is thankless. I would accede the company all that I can spare, if it will prolong the defense.” “And they will thank you for it,” says Faramir, mollified, and angry about that, too. He has forgotten that they are not at council. He does not need to couch his position in shrewd word and inassailable will, striving endlessly against the forward advance of his lord’s judgment. His father would not send his Captain-General if he did not see it necessary, and in truth Faramir would not have made a different decision.

this is followed by boromir, as his brother, helping him dress in the morning. its fun because he spends the entire time being very stoic and squire-ish and pinning and straightening faramir's clothes like a captain who's conducted a million inspections and Not Crying and then like two seconds before the official summons sounds the floodgates open. very...you're never Ready to say the goodbye no matter how much you pretend you are. (i selected this excerpt specifically to contrast with the previous one lol)

“Do not change.” The words burst from Boromir’s mouth in an imploring rush, his hands tightening on Faramir’s shoulders. “No matter what happens out there. I expect you to return with tales I do not understand, with-” he breaks off, sniffs- “with an adoring train of admirers, with some precious book you have carried over hundreds of leagues. Something no sane man would bring upon a journey such as this.” “That, I can promise,” Faramir laughs, even as tears blur his vision. “You may regret making me swear so, when you tire of my incessant chatter.” “I am sure,” says Boromir. “Remind me of it, when that time comes.”

and then. well. he has said farewell to his father and brother. but he now faces the steward and the captain-general before the great gates. and yet they still ARE his father and brother and none of them can forget it!!! god i love messed up family dynamics with my whole whole little heart. yes denethor's line is written to be an explicit parallel to "i sent my son unthanked unblessed onto the field of battle" because i am NEVER not thinking about it.

Denethor steps forward then, until they are separated by but a pace. Lifts his hand, brings it to his heart and then leans down to press his lips to his son’s brow. “Go now, Steward’s son. Go with the blessings of your lord and city, and may your burdens be few and your road run true.” Faramir bows his head, kisses his lord’s hand. When he rises, he meets his father’s eyes. A glance passes between them, a wordless communion. He turns to the Captain-General, then, and they end the farewell in the warrior’s manner, a clasp of the forearm in place of the kiss of fealty.

anyway. yeah. it was so fun to write and ALSO so difficult and wildly heartwrenching. but i miss it. i miss them. when will they (fucked up house of the stewards dynamics) return from the war (theyre always there because faramir carries them in his mind. but you know what i mean). thank u for asking for this one<333

[grey-gazania]

Last for the writing meme? — @emyn-arnens

no excuses writing meme || @emyn-arnens

More from that bby!Ereiniel-with-a-side-of-Russingon-angst plot bunny.

“It terrifies me, how much I love Ereiniel,” Fingon said, looking down at his daughter curled asleep in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. “I never imagined I could love like this. And then she was born, and suddenly I knew.”

[thelordofgifs]

Hi! For the spread love asks, 4, 10, and 18! — @emyn-arnens

(spread love asks)

did 18 here!

4. Link to a great meta you’ve read

Here's some incredible meta on the textual evolution of Fingon's character by @clothonono - absolutely fascinating side-by-side comparisons of drafts and some really great thoughts on how Fingon grows less unambiguously heroic between drafts! The recontextualisation of Fingon's famed elegy as a legacy of an earlier draft when he was rather less morally grey is both very interesting and also has been very reassuring to me when I worry about how I characterise Fingon myself.

10. A popular character you actually really like and why

My favourite character in the legendarium is Maglor, who is very popular and for very good reasons! He's so defined by regret - writing the Noldolante, lamenting forever by the seashore - and yet he still does every single terrible thing he does. I love his complex codependent loving relationship with Maedhros. I love that he kidnaps Elrond and Elros and yet "love grew after between them". I love the missing space that is his time as Maedhros' regent. I love that he's so obviously right in his final debate with Maedhros, and yet he still goes after the Silmarils - the way all his loyalty is twisted and perverted into his fatal flaw. I love that after it all, he doesn't die; he lives and he regrets and he remembers. He's all grey spaces and complexity and he is so so so fascinating and I adore him.