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Currently living for the smol AU @skaelds and I are writing on Discord.

Maeglin re-embodies and finds his way to the Uncle whom he should’ve met the first time around: Fingon.

#nolpa #finno for the winno #fingon #maeglin #silm

Then he called him Maeglin, which is Sharp Glance, for he perceived that the eyes of his son were more piercing than his own, and his thought could read the secrets of hearts beyond the mist of words.

#Maeglin #lomion #sharp glance #fallen banners #silm elves #silmedit #dark elf #Nolpa

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Doom, Gloom and Maeglin Chapter 12

@skaelds He would remember Caranthir making a dash for the daggers, saying that he would cut his hair off, all off, and himself applauding- Finrod sprinting to tackle the Noldo to refrain him from acting, tossing the dagger to Maeglin, who in a state of panic, opened the window and hurled it as far away as he could. He would remember how they had wrestled for the last bottle of wine then, how he had managed to elbow Finrod deep enough in the stomach that Finrod had blanched, turned green, and vomited in the flowers’ pots Finduilas had offered him. He would remember how he had exclaimed high enough that Caranthir had fallen upon him to steal his trophy, crying and raging about oaths and stolen properties, and how they had fallen to the ground, Maeglin’s head hitting the ground hard enough that he had seen stars. Perhaps it was the cry that had alerted Orodreth and Edrahil, perhaps it was how Caranthir and Maeglin were howling with laughter, describing in length all the colors that Finrod’s face went through. In any case, it caused Orodreth and the captain of the guards to barge into the rooms, take one look at the scene and sigh , successfully stealing the last bottle from their hands. It did not please them. It did not please them at all; and before Orodreth could protect himself, he found himself tackled to the ground by Caranthir- while Finrod and Maeglin sprinted after Edrahil to get their due back. Finrod ran into a wall. He had only the time to hear Maeglin’s dismay, a great cry about comrades fallen in battles, before he toppled to the ground, and properly passed out.