#feanorianweek2024

[threeunwisehunters]

@feanorianweek Day 5: Curufin

Curufin with his little baby, that’s all.

[windrelyn]

@feanorianweek 2024

Day 4 - Caranthir and Ambarussa - "Fireflies"

It's based on an old fanfic of mine. But in it, Caranthir went to the forest with little Curufin instead of the twins.

[elentarial]

Fëanorian Week Day 1-Ash

It isn’t until the moment he realizes he cannot tell Ambarto’s bones from the rest of their dead that he knows the meaning of loss. The concept is still foreign, despite Alqualondë, despite finding Grandfather Finwë on the steps of Formenos. 

Even as he stares at the charred, soaked remains, it all feels like some cruel nightmare. It is said that the Fëanturi possess a terrible sense of humor.

The body only looks like Telufinwë in the same sense that a half-finished painting looks like its subject. His freckles stand out against the bloodless pallor of his cheeks in a way that isn’t right- where the flush of adolescence has always lent his skin a certain rosy sheen. It looks nothing like the waxy wanness of death.

Now, his body is lost in the flecks of ash that float up from the burning ships, and all they have left of him is drowned in frigid seawater and an angry, disillusioned mirror image who calls themselves their brother. Nelyo breathes ash and a sense of dissatisfaction.

There is a part of him that can not accept his youngest brother’s death.

He finds himself expecting Telufinwë to come bounding up the shore at any moment, bow in hand, wild-eyed like he’s never been gone at all. He can envision him apologizing to their father, wincing with the same sheepish embarrassment any of them can muster whenever they disappoint Atar.

He finds himself frustrated, seeking out Telvo’s face among the crowd of their followers.

He finds himself wanting to comfort the twins when difficult questions arise, but there is no longer a set of twins, only a singleton.

He notices his absence more than he ever realized he would, and with every passing day that the loss doesn’t grow more real, his gut begins to creep lower and lower with the realization of how deep his affections run for his younger brothers.

Sometimes, he lays awake, composing conversations, even entire scenes in his mind.

He envisions Telufinwë responding to Atar’s death- the shock way his mouth would slip open, the fall of his eyebrows, the sorrow in his tree-bright eyes. He sees his lips turning up hesitantly, fearful but also hopeful.

“What now?” he’d ask, face full of uncertainty, “You are Noldoran. What do we do now?” 

He tells Telufinwë about how they should try and deceive Morginotto and hears all too clearly his skepticism.

Telufinwë would question Atar’s word as well. He’d be nervous, yes, but never afraid, bold in a way only the very young can be.

He knows Telufinwë would stare over Curvo’s head with his eyebrows pinched together because it is strange to have to look down to meet the eyes of his superior, even if Curufin is only one step closer to the throne.

In his mind, he watches Telufinwë imitate Tyelko’s crude language and even cruder behavior, although he looks over his shoulder still as if their mother might be watching. He laughs aloud at the thought of it, startling awake Kano.

He pictures Telvo smiling at him when he finally loses his temper with Curvo’s scheming, sees him turn to his twin with a giddy smile and whisper,

“That took long enough, didn’t it?” 

and then laughs softly when Pityo’s sharp smile matches his own.

He sees and hears and feels his youngest brother respond to so many new things in Beleriand.

There is so much left to say, but ashes are all that remain of all of them.

@feanorianweek

[thescrapwitch]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fëanor/Nerdanel (Tolkien), Fëanor & Mahtan Aulendur Characters: Fëanor (Tolkien), Mahtan Aulendur Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hopeful Ending Series: Part 6 of Fëanorian Week 2024 Summary:

When Fëanor left the Halls of the Dead, he did not expect Mahtan to be the one waiting for him.

@feanorianweek

[dwarrowdelf]

what's left of the world

Rating: G | No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Amras & Amrod Word count: 688

Amras, and Amrod, and anger. For day six: Ambarussa of @feanorianweek 2024

Read here on AO3

They had talked, on the rough trip over, and agreed: it was unfair for their mother to be left with none of them. They had planned, in the bunk of a sailor who might now be dead, for one of them to sneak back on the ship and to sneak home when it landed again. Their father would never approve, and they could not guess if any of their brothers would help them, so they didn’t tell anyone.

They were lucky, then, to have lived so long in each other’s pockets. The younger woke at the elder’s alarm, and dove into the water on the far side unseen before the flames grew too strong. Fëanáro never even noticed that his youngest son was missing. Only Carnistir asked why his youngest brother was soaked. Maitimo was too busy staring at Fëanáro. Tyelkormo was too busy staring into the flames, or more accurately through them to the shore beyond. Macalaurë and Curufinwë were too busy speaking to each other in hushed tones.

Maedhros sends them away to the southernmost parts of their claimed territory. As a fallback, he claims. Reserve forces, he assures them, despite them knowing he wants them as far from the front lines as possible. It suits them well enough; they build a scattered few little forts to satisfy Maedhros, and disappear into the wilds rather than live in them. The overseer of those forts sends Maedhros letters regularly, responds to them as well. Incidentally, she happens to be quite skilled at mimicking the handwriting of others. It takes some years – rather too many, in the twins’ opinion – for anyone to notice anything amiss, and the one who notices is Celegorm, though only because he elected to track them down when informed that the lords were not currently in residence. Apparently, more than one other brother had been given that excuse and gone on their merry way.

“Care to tell me why you and Telvo’s rooms in all of your forts are entirely unlived in?” Celegorm asks. He asks it cheerfully and without judgment, as he flings himself down beside the campfire Amras is starting. Amrod is at the river a quarter mile away, getting fish for dinner. Once, Celegorm’s easy way of coaxing without prodding, of guiding without forcing, had been one of the many things that made him Amras’s favorite brother after his twin.

Amras looks at him now, expressionless, and tells him, “Amrod was sleeping in the ships the night we burned them.”

(Amras had thrown a torch of his own, that endless night, onto a ship he had earlier helped to unload. He had wanted, quite desperately, to throw it at Fëanor’s head instead. He should have suspected something sooner. Even the hammocks had been taken off that ship.)

(Once, they had left Formenos for nearly two weeks. Slipped out the window of their shared room under Telperion’s light, and hadn’t even brought their bows with them. No one had given any indication that their disappearance had been noted, and upon their return the only comment they’d gotten was their grandfather telling them to wash up for supper.)

Celegorm’s own expression slowly morphs into one of horror. Amras builds the fire.

“Pityo—”

“Amras.”

Celegorm closes his mouth at the sharp tone. It’s a new tone to hear from either of the twins, festered and fostered as the world as they knew it ended over and over again, bitter hemlock leaves spilling out of his mouth at last.

Amrod returns. He doesn’t react to Celegorm, because Amras already warned him. There are only two trout in the net slung over his shoulder. “What’re you two talking about?” he asks, setting the fish down.

“Nothing important,” Amras tells him.

They have lived this way for years, and rarely need to speak these days, with mouths or with minds. Amras sets to preparing and cooking the fish while Amrod pulls out his latest whittling project, both of them silent. Celegorm doesn’t seem to know what to do with the way they shut him out so easily.

They’re long gone when he wakes up the next morning.

[threeunwisehunters]

@feanorianweek Day 4: Caranthir

here’s moryo doing his embroidery. he’s slightly embarrassed but nothing can stop him from doing his hobby. my poor misunderstood boi

[threeunwisehunters]

@feanorianweek Day 6: Ambarussa

“ hunting”: cheeky little twins hunting for cake. yep.

[thescrapwitch]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maglor | Makalaurë & Sons of Fëanor, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor, Fingon | Findekáno & Maglor | Makalaurë, Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien) Characters: Maglor (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Fingon (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Reunions, Fourth Age of Arda (Tolkien), Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 2 of Fëanorian Week 2024 Summary:

Maglor sneaks back into Valinor. Too guilt ridden to approach those he loves, he chooses instead to watch them from the shadows, and so his family must devise a plan to catch him.

@feanorianweek