#ninduilas

[who-needs-words]

Listen listen. You’ve probably heard of Finduilas/Nienor and maybe you’ve heard of Nellas/Nienor. I’m proud to introduce Finduilas/Nienor/Nellas.

Timelines don’t matter when you have two immortal elves. They [spins wheel] save Elurín and Eluréd and raise them before [spins wheel] Finduilas becomes Gil-galad.

This is coherent and definitely not me throwing darts at a board labeled ‘fun silm AUs’

[maironsbigboobs]

Could you do the “on each eyelid” kiss prompt with Nienor/Finduilas?

7. on each eyelid

“You’re tired.”

Niënor lay on their bed, propping herself up on one elbow to watch Finduilas, who remained bent over her task at the little collapsing table that served as her desk. When she heard her voice, she startled, and hurriedly hid her work in her lap.

“I thought you were asleep.” Finduilas avoided answering, but for Niënor that was answer enough. Climbing out of the bed, she crossed the tent and took Finduilas’ hand in her own. Finduilas bunched up her skirts to hide her project further. 

“I missed you. Come to bed.” She brushed her thumb over the back of Finduilas’ hand, so much smoother than her own.

“I need to finish your present. I should have started sooner.” Ah, so that was what it was. Niënor laughed. 

“It’s not funny.” Finduilas protested, but there was laughter in her voice too. “You deserve a nice surprise. I know you too well - if I go to sleep, you will not be able to resist having a peek.”

Niënor pressed a hand over her heart in mock affront. “Are you calling me nosy, princess?”

Finduilas smiled sweetly at her, eyes glinting; “Never, dearest.”

“Maybe if you come to bed with me, I will be too distracted to look, and you will get to sleep. A fair deal, no?”

“I swear, love, you would try and negotiate with the Valar themselves.” Finduilas tutted gently, as she stood, folding her project and quickly hiding it in her supply box. Then she turned back to Niënor and kissed her softly. “To bed.”

“To bed.”

It was quite a squeeze, the two of them in a tangle of limbs and blankets and golden hair. Finduilas settled against Niënor, her head against her breast, and it was not long before she was sleeping - eyes closed, a habit she had picked up for Niënor’s comfort.

Niënor held her, stroking her hair softly. It was her favourite moment of the day, seeing Finduilas sleep and watching the stress and grief fade from her face. This was how she imagined Finduilas had been when the world was young, before war and torment had touched her - as golden and unchanging as the Sun. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to each eyelid.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

As much as it tempted her, she did not go and look at her present. She had a better gift in her arms.

[imakemywings]

@lightqueer tagged me to show a WIP...I don't actually have an active WIP right now, but have some of Nienor talking to Finduilas about her mom that I never fit in anywhere?

***

“…you know, I don’t recall that Mother ever laughed. She must have. Sometimes she had a look on her face that I knew she was amused…but real, out-loud laughter? I can’t recall. Perhaps her laughter died with Urwen.

            “When I was in a mood, usually when Mother had reprimanded me, or deprived me of something for which I wished, I told myself it was Urwen’s fault Mother was displeased. A few times—when I was cruel in the way children can be—I told her she loved Urwen more than me. That she would have rather Urwen had lived than that I had been born.

            “I don’t know what I expected. Something. For her to shout at me, or strike me, or perhaps even to cry. She never did. She didn’t even respond. She just looked at me as if to say ‘What a child you are, to think your childish words could hurt me.’ And I went away, abashed, to whatever privacy we had at the time—the yard in our house in Brethil, or only the edge of camp when we were traveling, or to my room—my own room, entirely my own, and larger than any space I’d ever had!—in Doriath.

            “Mother seemed always unflappable. When I look back now, I realize the truth of it. I used to think Mother was a night owl. She spent so many nights up by firelight, weaving, embroidering, re-reading our handful of books. I think now she was keeping watch. She must have been terrified—she must have been! Alone in that house with a babe and the wolves prowling around outside! But she never showed it. Mother was so fearless she made me fearless—I thought nothing could touch me with Mother there. She never seemed fazed—not when we were accosted by Brodda’s men in the streets, or when they stole from us, or when we were confined to the house. Now though…we must have been in danger my whole childhood, until we passed behind the Girdle. On some level I knew danger existed—Mother told me how dangerous were Brodda and his men, servants of Morgoth, and I knew that Turin had been sent away for his safety, and that Father had died in the Nirnaeth Arneodiad…but I only remember being afraid a handful of times, and only when I was without Mother.

            “She was strong that way,” Nienor murmured. “That I am not. But perhaps this is for the best.”

            “How do you mean?” Finduilas asked. Nienor declined to speak. Already it felt she had said a great deal—more than she would have said to anyone else of her personal life—but this was Finduilas, and speaking to her made words flow like water, in a way they did with none other. Words had come easily enough with Turambar, once she had them, but they had been quiet between the two of them—they spoke never of the past, and not much in general. Their understand had seemed outside the realm of spoken word. Perhaps, Nienor had often thought with chagrin, it would have behooved them to be a bit chattier. Then she said:

            “Mother’s strength came at a price. Her walls kept out friends as well as foes. There was no place in her life for softness.” Nienor touched Finduilas’ cheek, rubbing her thumb against the tender flesh, something unguarded in her hazel eyes—an admission of sorts. “I know not that I could be that way. That I would be willing.”

            “Perhaps she did it that you need not,” Finduilas suggested, catching Nienor’s hand in her own. She didn’t move it away, only curled her long fingers around it, pressing the warmth of Nienor’s palm against her cheek.

            “Perhaps it was only necessity,” said Nienor.

            “If a life is preserved without tenderness, without whimsy…for what has it been preserved?” Finduilas asked quietly. She leaned in and pressed her mouth to Nienor’s, and Nienor relaxed into her kiss. “We live for our moments of joy, do we not?”

            “It is hard to say,” said Nienor, her grave tone giving way to a faint smile. “You give me such joy it casts a light on all else around it. I wonder there are parts of my life left without it.” Finduilas smiled a golden smile, radiant and gentle, and Nienor kissed her again. “If it were given that I could choose to live, but only in absence of your softness,” she murmured inches from Finduilas’ lips, “I would have one last kiss from you before death.”

            “Speak not to me of death,” Finduilas implored. It was a touchy subject among Elves at best, but worst of all among any with a mortal lover.

            “Prefer you to know that I would have my kiss off your breasts?” Nienor asked. Finduilas’ jaw dropped at this audacity, and then she laughed. Nienor grinned. “Or perhaps I shall have it off the softest place of all,” she teased.

            “Nienor!”

            “Yes? Shall you not take pity on your poor mortal love and give me one last kiss of your royal flower to see me off to the unknown?”

            “I shall not!” said Finduilas, torn between somewhat performative shock, and amusement. “I should sooner provide you a reason to return to the realms of Arda.” Nienor laughed again.

            “You think for your cunt I can break the rules of Eä?” she asked. “Well. I won’t deny it quite yet.”

[imakemywings]

I think it would be fun to play with a Ninduilas AU where Nienor’s curse is still active. I basically hand-waved it in WWGM on the theory that Nienor’s near-death experience had been near enough to terminate the curse because I didn’t want to deal with it, but she was cursed by Morgoth as much as Turin and it would be interesting to explore a relationship where Finduilas knows that and she chooses to be with Nienor anyway. It’s knowing their lives are going to be full of woe and misfortune but taking Nienor’s hands anyway because she’d rather have a cursed life with Nienor than a life without her

[imakemywings]

Ninduilas OTP chart \^o^/

When her hair is long, Nienor almost always wears it braided or in a bun to keep it out of her way. Long hair annoys her. She dresses pretty simply--she doesn't borrow any of Finduilas' stuff because she's not interested in it XD She thinks it's unfair that she's faulted for thinking a literal immortal Elf princess was out of her league. And she will stick with "princess" as a pet name no matter how many times Finduilas reminds her she isn't a princess anymore. She's had her ears pierced but she doesn't really like wearing jewelry.

I couldn't resist princess curls for Finduilas, although I don't think she has naturally curly hair (Nienor has a significant wave that she gets from Hurin). Gil-galad got mom's dark hair and eyes. She's pretty tall for a female Elf but she doesn't mind.

Nienor absolutely inherited Morwen's stubbornness and at some point she will be old enough and have few enough fucks left to give to make jokes that she got further with Turin than Finduilas did. That's a ways down the road though.

(Picrew here)

[imakemywings]

AU where Nienor goes to Nargothrond instead of/ahead of Turin and Finduilas falls for her instead