#moryo

[siryanissee]

a moryo drop

Playing with acrylic markers rn. Very in love with the mini moryo, more than the other drawing. 😭

The main one is in "seducing Haleth era" lol

+ náro loose sketch

[antlered-vixen]

Morifinwë Carnistir Fëanárion - Caranthir. And specifically, "goth" mathematician Moryo from Light.

[everlastingdarkness808]

Honestly it’s surprising how many people like to characterize Feanor as a bad father or outright abusive. Don’t get me wrong I do see the vision especially with his later actions towards Fingolfin. There are a lot of different dynamics between all seven sons and their father and they are pretty interesting to explore and build upon.

Bad father! Feanor who never accepts anything less than perfection from the very beginning.

Bad father! Feanor who’s children are breaking their backs trying to get their fathers attention and praise. Who try to appease him no matter what and deep down know that they might never live up to his standard or might.

Maitimo trying to live up to the picture of a perfect son, Macalaure who tries to show that his craft was useful, Tyelko rejecting to fit into a mold his father prepared for him and nonetheless breaking under the expectations, Moryo the least of all sons with no craft, Curvo breaking just and much as Nelyo living in the shadow of his father and Ambarussa the forgotten at the ruins of a marriage.

But what about good father Feanor? After all we don’t get much in the text and I don’t have the Silmarillion at hand to pick out quotes but from what we have there is no evidence that he was a bad father. So might I suggest these:

Good father! Feanor who sees the potential in Maitimo and encourages him to cultivate it. Feanor who despite pushing sometimes too hard never does it out of malicious intend. Maitimo is perfect not because of being his firstborn and heir but because he is his son above all else. Feanor who forged and made so many toys for his son and played with him on the rug when he was but a single child. Feanor who always told Maitimo how proud he was of him.

Good father! Feanor who makes Kano his first harp and gently pushes the shy child to sing in a choir at a festival. Feanor who is proud of his son finding comfort in music (after all the world was sang into being too). Feanor who lifts his son to pet a horse and carves him a toy out of wood. Feanor who visits all performances of Kano. Protective Feanor who glares a tad bit too hard at admirers who become too touchy with his second son as they congratulate him.

Good father! Feanor who lets Tyelko drag him out of bed by the rise of dawn to explore a meadow because he promised. Feanor who lets him ride on the big horse in front of him although he’s far too small. Feanor who catches him jumping from a tree and turns a blind eye when he smuggles in frogs, rabbits, chickens and stray animals into his room. Feanor who goes on hunts and great journeys with his third son and understands that his calling is beyond the walls of the court.

Good father! Feanor who doesn’t rush Moryo when he doesn’t find a craft right away. Feanor who sees the little one’s affinity for logic and numbers. Feanor who goes through several tomes of books about mathematics again just to answer Moryo’s questions. Feanor who tells him that his red face is the most beautiful just like his mother’s when he was being teased. Feanor who lets him temper with the household finances as practice and who nudges the boy out of his shell, inspiring confidence in his abilities.

Good father! Feanor who sees himself in Curvo the most. Feanor who takes the small one to the forge and gives him a sieve to play by the nearby stream. Feanor who indulges in Curvo’s rock collection and always makes sure to give him one he doesn’t have. Feanor who teaches him all the lore and craft but lets him go when he wants to follow Tyelko to a hunt. Feanor who lets Curvo shine in his own light despite having the same name as him.

Good father! Feanor who always kissed his twins goodnight even when he hadn’t time during the day. Feanor who introduced them to hunting just like he did with Tyelko. Feanor who gets Pityo books about plants and never forgets to bring Telvo a new set of arrows. Feanor who gets them their own horses much sooner than expected so they may too enjoy the land. Feanor who spend so much time carving a space for those two so they wouldn’t just get passed down things from their brothers. Feanor who let Pityo hold one hand and Telvo the other as they made their way through the streets and never tired of being pulled around.

Feanor who slowly changes as time progresses. No one knows when it began but certainly after the birth of Curvo. Feanor who starts to abandon all wise council of Nerdanel. Feanor who becomes an active volcano whose temper is slowly rising. Feanor who has no peace.

Feanor who slowly spirals. Unpleasant thoughts start to pollute his thoughts. He’s always thinking, always plotting, did those thoughts appear on their own or had someone put it there. He never had any kind thoughts towards his half siblings. But was there always such a visceral hate for them?

Feanor whose time becomes occupied by his new project that would be proven to be his greatest while Melkor causes strife and dissonance between the Noldor. Feanor who becomes consumed with paranoia of being replaced. Feanor whose mood worsens by the day. Feanor who forges weapons instead of harps and trinkets for his sons. Feanor who snaps in the end and causes devastation like a forest fire.

His sons seeing that something was wrong, that something was changing within their father but had no idea how to stop it or how to name it. His sons trying to stop their father from going down the destructive path but having no way of going against his authority. They love him but his smile is often then not too sharp, praise becomes just as rare as his presence at the family table. There is no one to reach out to, no way of explaining what metamorphosis was taking place in their own four walls. Their mother was just as helpless as them. (Was the smell of a decaying marriage always in the air?)

Arguments only cause rifts and rather than having their family torn apart completely, they rather stay silent. The treatment of his uncles and cousins might be unfair but by agreeing to their father they might keep the peace at home. Maybe they could still save something, maybe the eggshells would disappear.

His sons going with him to Formenos because their love for him overweighted the feeling of wrongness and perhaps there was just a small hope that things would get better after those twelve years. His sons following him into war because it seemed the right thing to avenge family. They couldn’t abandon their father in such a crucial moment like that even if he led them into danger. Maybe after they got their revenge it would finally get better. Swearing the oath they hadn’t realized that they set their feet upon the same spiral as their father.

Maedhros realized that indeed it would not get better when their father told them to burn the ships. No oath of brotherhood would prevent him from leaving Nolofinwe on the opposite shores. All he could do was to keep the ire of their sire away from his brothers and get through that nightmare. The twisted man that stood before him resembled his father only in body.

Only much later at the end of the first age Maedhros would realize that he too was trapped in the same spiral as his father was. There was no way out. No way to backtrack since all the people around him were dead. No way to change anything since all the important events had passed. He was beyond the point of no return and all there was left was the way forward to the bitter end. (Perhaps destroying the last things around him will finally free him.)

By the time they set out to retrieve the Silmarils from the host of the Valar Maglor knows deep down that his brother might be gone forever. He can’t abandon him just like he couldn’t abandon their father. The Silmarils might be their only hope of salvation, the only hope for freedom of the terrible oath. Maybe it would get better after all, maybe all his brother needs are those gems to get better, to become his beloved brother Nelyo again. (It doesn’t. The Silmarils just burn away whatever has remained of them)

[sunnieclipseart]

@feanorianweek Day 4 Caranthir - Free Space (I guess?)

Couldn’t think of anything for the prompts, but uh…Sleepy/tired Caranthir?

I was sick drawing this, so woe be upon him, too, I suppose 😅

[gracefallingart]

Caranthir and Haleth

I love these two, they are one of my favorite Silmarillion duos. This seems early on in the getting to know each other stage.

Enjoy, and give me any feedback you like as I am always working on improving.

[silmawensgarden]

Skittle-eyes & Rosy cheeks

Caranthir x fem reader

Prompt: Okay so, as a fan of you XIX The Sun, I was wondering if I could ask for a modern girl in middle earth, because I got elves in earth. So Id be content with a little switch. And, I would love the character to fall in love with Caranthir. It would be super funny for her to fall in love with the grumpy elf, and him to fall in love with an skincare obssesed girl that puts on overly dramatic eyeshadow. THANK YOU <333

Requested by: @burnetteofgold

A/n: Hi! Thank you for requesting. It was my first time writing for Caranthir so please excuse some of the characteristics. I hope you like it! ☺️

Warnings: (almost) drowning

It was a beautiful spring day, and you had set out to go on a picnic to a nearby meadow. The park was too busy these days with all the couples, parents and not to mention the little kids screeching at the top of their lungs. You wanted something quiet. Somewhere pretty, quiet and lovely for your picnic.

It didn't take you as long to prepare your basket as it had taken you to decide which eyeshadow look would be the best for the occasion. Green and pink? Yellow with sunflower theme? Baby blue? And the list went on as you sat at your vanity and stared at your reflection. Thinking long and hard about what would be the best combo for today. It was a well know fact to everyone who knew you that you loved colors and everything pretty. A magpie of sorts, attracted to shiny and beautiful things. And there was nothing wrong with that. Though perhaps your extensive collection of skincare would have liked to protest, if it had a voice to do so. Because skincare was another love in your life. Meticulous routines, extensive research on active ingredients and what was the best one for which skinconcern....you knew a lot. A walking skincare encyclopedia.

That same morning you had done everything as usual. Your morning skincare, haircare and all the little odds and ends you enjoyed before starting your day. Your day would however turn out very far from your comfortable routine. You were going to be in for a Rollercoaster and you weren't even remotely aware of it as you grabbed your bike keys and picnic basket. You didn't notice the slightly charged buzz in the atmosphere nor the way everything seemed to be so....on edge. Like something was about to burst, like a can of fruit preserves that's got too much pressure.

You took one last look in the hallway mirror, you had your comfy jeans on and a favorite t-shirt that gave you joy every time you looked at it. The makeup you wore was a pastel pink and green look inspired by the pretty tulips you had seen at the store yesterday. It brought out your eye color and gave you a boost of confidence to tackle the day.

You arrived at the meadow in no time. The sun was already high in the sky, making it pleasantly warm. The flowers of the field bloomed and lifted their fragrance in to the air, making it smell sweet. You had found your spot quickly and sat down. Enjoying your picnic for a long while.

The enjoyment of sitting down didn't last long however. Soon enough your mind began to itch for a little adventure. Getting up from your spot you ventured out further in to the meadow. On the hunt for pretty trinkets. You often found colorful rocks and small trinkets here. There was a river nearby as well. Since it was warm enough today, you decided to venture out to the river. Maybe read a little by the riverbank.

Standing by the riverbank you didn't get any time to recollect your bearings as in a split second the ground beneath you fell away in to the river. Throwing you in to the waters. You had no idea what was happening and panic started to set in. Flailing wildly against a current that you were certain was not so strong just a moment ago. You were dragged under the water roughly and struggled against the current. The temperature of the water suddenly became multiple degrees colder. As if you had jumped in to an icy lake instead of a warm spring stream.

You managed to come up for air and screamed as loud as you could for help. Through bleary eyes you could just about vaguely make out something or someone speeding towards you on what seemed to be a horse? You heard a deep masculine voice call out to you in a language you couldn't possibly understand even if you tried. But the urgency in his voice was universal. Withing moments your freezing, soaked body was hauled out of the waters on to dry land. You were shaking from both the cold and the adrenaline that was still coursing through you. When your eyes finally adjusted you saw to your great horror that you were not in the meadow anymore. But in some vast plains that resembled a winter landscape with an even larger river that was deep and dark. And you were sorely underdressed for the frigid temperatures.

You would later find out that you had nearly drowned in the river Gelion. Close to the border of Thargelion, kingdom of Caranthir the dark. You finally lifted your gaze and were met with a sight that made you freeze up. You were being held up by what looked to be a man who could put models to shame from back home. A long thick mane of unruly pitch black curls cascaded down his back and shoulders. His eyes reminded you of the blueish frost on the windows during a snowstorm. And his skin was soft and even. Aside from one large port wine stain birthmark, marring his beautiful features. But even that, to your half delirious state from nearly drowning, looked more like a peony than an ugly mark.

Caranthir spoke to you in a language you didn't understand. Which did not make any of this easier as he was after all the harshest of his brothers and the quickest to anger. And this man's patience....it grew thin. To Caranthir's great relief you could understand common. Which gave you some leeway in to calming him down. But he was not going to let you off easy. You had nearly drowned on his lands, were severely underdressed for the season and looked completely out of your mind. At least to him.

"Who are you and what ails you? Why were you in the river Gelion in this time of year?" Caranthir spoke through gritted teeth. He had to try his best not to kickstart his temper as it was already starting to smolder under the surface. Who in their right mind, dressed as such, would venture out in to an icy river? In the dead of winter! Caranthir was exasperated with you already, but he still had kindness in him. So after you spent 10 minutes explaining your situation he wordlessly hoisted you up and on to his horse. Wrapping his cloak around you to protect you from hypothermia.

The ride to Thargelion was not too long, but it was agonizing in more ways than one. First of all you were still soaked through and freezing. Secondly you were pressed up against what to you was possibly the most handsome man you could imagine. You were definitely not okay. It was unfortunate that this handsome man was also a cactus personified. The whole ride through he kept pestering you with questions and occasional barbs that made you think that perhaps he was entirely made out of poison. Caranthir wasn't too good at holding his tongue.

In the healing wing of Thargelion you were soon warmly accommodated and cared for. A healer was always close by to check on you and a maid kept you company for as long as her schedule allowed. Soon you had learned her name; Lanyarë, and became friends. Though for the most part of your friendship you'd end up calling her Lanya.

After your first encounter with Caranthir you had not expected him to be so generous. He had ordered a room to be prepared for you and for all your needs to be perfectly met. By nightfall you had cozied up in some pajamas after a warm bath and a filling meal. Any wounds you had gotten were treated and were healing quickly.

"What a day...I think I'm slowly going mad." You muttered under your breath. You by some sick twisted fate nearly drowned and ended up in Middle earth. "It might be best if I just go to sleep. Hopefully this is just one really realistic hallucination..." you mumbled before drifting off to sleep, surrounded by the many smells and sounds unfamiliar to you.

Come morning you awoke with the sorest limbs you'd ever had in your life. Not so unexpected after the events of the previous day. The day went by in an uneventful fashion; mostly staying in bed and being treated by healers. And the occasional interrogation from the elf you now knew was Caranthir. "He should have a plaque on his forehead; beware, barbed tongue & volatile." You'd grumble time and time again.

The next few weeks passed by speedily. Much to your surprise you'd come to like your grumpy host more than you'd dare to admit out loud. And after 2 months, it looked a lot like it was mutual. You'd find random flowers on your bedside table at ungodly hours of the morning. Which at first was admittedly creepy, but he was perhaps more emotionally constipated than you had thought. You frequently found yourself lavished with favors and privileges some other guest weren't getting. And the small embroidered squares of fabric here and there with sweets in them were puzzling. Until you one day had come to ask Caranthir for help, finding him in his office. Handling a needle and square of fabric with impressive precision. The silence in his office felt heavy, stifling, almost. He had all but sunk in to the floor. All it had to do was open up beneath him and Caranthir would've jumped straight in. This was by far the most red you'd ever seen the face of the lord of Thargelion. A cherry would be ashamed if it had to compete with him. The needle clattered on to the floor. A sound that was now much louder than it should've been. And a slight tremor could be seen in his hands as he rather abruptly stuffed the embroidered fabric into a pocket of his robes.

"What business do you have in my office at this time mortal? Have you no sense whatsoever?" He barked out. But it lacked conviction. He stubbornly held your gaze, unwilling to show weakness even in the face of being discovered.

"So...you are the one who's been sending me those pretty embroideries? Not Lanyarë?" You asked quietly. A little confused, you hadn't expected it to be him. Of all people.

"Yes. Yes it was me! What of it? Who did you think it was you obtuse creature-" His usual snide remarks started to resurface. It seems like he can't hold his tongue even with those he loves. Perhaps even more so with those he loves. He doesn't like deceit after all.

"I thought it was Lanyarë...you know, her name means weaver in your language, right? So I thought-" you were cut off soon after by an exasperated caranthir.

"No! By illuvatar you obtuse, dense, senseless mouse! It was not my maid. It was ME. How do you not recognize the handiwork of the lord of Thargelion? I sought counsel from my brothers, and asked countless elven ladies!-" Caranthir ranted for five minutes straight about you being denser than celegorm after too much elvish liquor. And you'd be tempted to believe him considering you had almost glossed over the fact that he had just confessed his feelings to you.

"Well at least it's mutual then." Was all you managed to mutter before slamming the office door behind you and walking back to your room with a heart beating faster than that of a mouse. He liked you too. That's all that mattered right now. The rest? You'd figure that out later. Your stay in Middle earth suddenly got a whole lot more fun.

[lost-hope-but-funny]

I do believe that little moryo was afraid of the thunderstorm back at home

and I do believe that he would knock on káno’s door because the latter would rarely be asleep in the night

or, even if he would be asleep, the door would still open to him, and a disheveled makalaüre would appear before his eyes, his face sleepy and confused

and makalaüre would look at his dear brother, at his thin lips pursed together, at his arms hugging his middle, and shoulders shaking with every thunder, and he would blink, and hold the door a bit more open

and moryo would run in and straight to the bed, under the duvet, to the wall

and maglor would smile and just wrap his brother up and make sure that the little one would sleep peacefully

— – — –

it rained in doriath the day that caranthir died

and the clouds were of dark-gray shade, growing more so with each hour

it did thunder the night that caranthir had died, had been put in the cold, yet dry, ground

maglor had only hoped that his little moryo was not scared in that dark soil, that he was not cold and trembling, like in the days before

he hoped

hope meant little in those times and lands

[wisesnail]

Baby isn't always angry! <3

(Will my gum pain stop before I finish sketching all the sons of Fëanor? I honestly don't know…)