#feanorianweek2020

[foxleycrow]

Maglor (& his harp) in happier times; watercolor painting for @feanorianweek.

[feanope]

Fëanorian Week 2020 - Day 7

"Let the ships burn!" Then Maedhros alone stood aside, but Fëanor caused fire to be set to the white ships of the Teleri. @feanorianweek

[windrelyn]

@feanorianweek 2020 - Day 2 - Maglor: “Maglor’s Gap”

[katarrinskey-archive]

 Day 1 of  @feanorianweek. Maedhros > Elder brother, kingship

So, the funny thing is, i spent the whole month getting ready for this event and i still only have wips because i’m terribly slow. Oh well, i’ll just have to finish them all later, i suppose

Camp on the lake Mithrim, Nelyo is tired, Turco is sad and Huan, is conserned for them both, cause he is a good boy

Also, Huan is a Mexican hairless dog cause they r big and smart and kind and warm and i love them

Finished version

[maironsmaid]

Soooooo day 3 of @feanorianweek is actually one of my fave pictures I've ever done and I am so happy how everything turned out.

Also I showed this my sister and she was like oh shit whose that guy with the horns? Can you draw him again because I think I have a crush now.

Lolololol

So yeah have tiny Celegorm with Oromë and tiny Huan

Oh and click for better quality cause this is tumblr what do you expect-_-

[nerislair]

@feanorianweek day 4 - Caranthir

In my mind Caranthir is this grumpy man buried in papers always working, so I thought giving him change of scenery would be nice. Also I never expected to enjoy drawing armor as much as I did here.

[velouriah]

Maglor's regrets - for Feanorianweek 2020! by Velouriah

[arofili]

the king is dead; long live the king

a late entry for @feanorianweek day 2: maglor, using the prompt “kingship”

inspired by @isilloth’s fic “The Dispossessed”

[notes available on AO3]

~

“He’s not dead yet.”

Carnistir looked at him. “We don’t know that, Kano.”

“We need a king,” Curufinwë pressed.

“We have a king,” Makalaurë repeated. “Nelyo.”

“Nelyo’s dead.” Tyelkormo said it flat. “Dead as Telvo. Dead as Alatya. Dead as Atar.”

“We don’t know that.” Makalaurë clenched his fist, trying not to shake in front of his brothers. “Telvo burned. Atar turned to ash. We saw Alatya’s broken body. But we haven’t seen Nelyo’s. I will not take the crown until we know he is dead.”

“This is foolishness,” Curufinwë snapped. “We need your guidance. You are the eldest—”

“Nelyo is the eldest.”

Curufinwë bit his tongue, but didn’t press the point. “You are our leader,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “With Nolofinwë’s people on the other side of the lake, we need a leader. We need you.”

Makalaurë trembled as he paced back and forth across the dirt floor of their makeshift headquarters. “I know as much about leading as the rest of you,” he muttered. “I never expected to be in this position—”

“None of us did,” Carnistir growled. “None of us thought Atar would die, when we set out with him. And yet—”

“Kano, you’re the smartest of us,” Tyelko interrupted, stamping his foot. Makalaurë jumped at the sudden sound. “Curvo would say otherwise—”

“I would not, actually.” Curufinwë’s lip curled in a thin smile. “I may be the skilled Finwë, but I am not the Finwë with the strongest voice, and not only in song. That is our eldest brother.”

“I am not…” Makalaurë trailed off, staring at Curufinwë like he had grown a second head. “Are you feeling alright, Curvo? That is the first time I have ever heard you express you were not the greatest in something.”

“He knows there’s no point in pretending anymore,” Carnistir interjected. “You don’t seem to have realized that yet.”

Makalaurë could hold himself back no longer: he wept, turning away from his brothers. “How can you have such faith in me?” he sobbed. “When I said nothing when we burned the ships— When I failed to rescue Nelyo— When—”

“We all burned the ships,” said a quiet voice. Makalaurë looked up: he had almost forgotten Ambarussa was in the room. He was quiet, these days, without Ambarto to balance him. “Even I, before I realized…”

“Nelyo was the best of us,” Tyelko said quietly. “But he is gone. And you are here.”

Gone, yes—gone was the truth, and Makalaurë knew it. He refused to believe that Maitimo was dead, not when they had no proof, not when Moringotto would taunt them with his corpse. But he was gone, whether lost in the wild or captive in the very hells of Angamando, and Makalaurë was left to lead.

“Please,” Curufinwë begged, and to hear him so afraid, so needy, was so unlike him that Makalaurë knew he had no choice. He could not let his little brothers down.

“Please, Kano,” Carnistir echoed him, and Ambarussa nodded as Tyelko comforted him with a tight embrace.

Makalaurë hung his head. “Very well,” he assented. “But I will not be your king, only a regent. I will lead only until Nelyo returns.”

Carnistir and Curufinwë exchanged a look, but did not argue; he knew they were thinking that was a battle for another day.

“I’ll get the horses ready for you to treat with Nolofinwë,” Tyelko said.

“I’ll tell our people,” Curufinwë volunteered.

“I’ll start working on altering Nelyo’s robes for you,” Carnistir said.

They all left, one by one, for their self-appointed tasks in burying Maitimo’s memory, until only Makalaurë and Ambarussa remained.

“Thank you,” Ambarussa murmured.

Makalaurë wiped his eyes. “Did it hurt like this? When you lost him? Like half your fëa was torn away?”

“It still does,” Ambarussa whispered, not meeting his eyes. “I think it always will.”

~

[if you liked this fic, please reblog & leave me a comment on AO3!! thank you!!]