#starspray

[mdaaaang]

This morning I was listening to the song "Free" from Kpop Demon Hunters and I started thinking about Maglor from @starspray's Most Excellent fic series "meanwhile the world goes on" (tormented bard!! whether fate can damn you or choices can redeem you!!). This song is simultaneously Maglor and Daeron, Maedhros & Maglor, and Maglor and Elrond to me, and it's so good and sweet and I love it and wanted to share it with you plural.

[vefanyar]

🌹🌹

The Balrog's whip-mark across Fingon's face begins to scar in an angry red, and the strained tissue pulls the corner of his mouth up into a perpetual lopsided grin that is odd and out of place on his mutilated, sleeping face.

Maedhros remembers that expression on Fingon's face, the corner of his lip twitching upward - it had been the one he had worn when they had first kissed one silver-treelit evening under the leaves of his grandfather Mahtan's orchard, outside the kitchen windows.

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

1. a novel that stabbed you in the heart recently

a novel that stabbed you in the heart recently

Already answered, but the My Brilliant Friend series earlier this year is another example.

Random Ask game

[jaz-the-bard]

Tuor + because he is the son of his father

"You look familiar," says Voronwë when they first meet.

"Why, you're the very image of your father! How could we doubt your identity?" says Idril when he asks why he's been so easily trusted.

"Oh, lovely, another one," mutters Maeglin.

Turgon never says anything, only looks at him like he's seen a ghost.

Tuor wants to shake someone by the shoulders and ask, Who is it you see in me? Who is the father I never met? Why do you know him and I do not?

[gwaedhannen]

🐧 a funny quote (silly! laughs! jokes! puns!)

From Dear Shadow Alive and Well, in which Camlost is a little shit:

“The songs say you will never again eat flesh.” “That is true.” “They also say you will slay none save the servants of—Him.” “That is also true.” “And yet you assisted my hunt. Willingly. Without being asked.” “And I have slain no living thing.” “But—You!” She hisses in frustration. “The traps were your design! The bow crafted with your advice! The spear—well, that was a wolf; it gets a pass—still!”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Daemags +11?

DaeMags - in joy.

Daeron dropped the goblet—a masterpiece such as it would never be crafted again—without waiting for the melodious tinkle of bursting crystal. After an eternity of miserable silence and a period of violent self-flagellation, Maglor had agreed to let his voice heal along with his soul. Daeron had never admitted how much he was hoping to, one day, wake up to the insidious, corrupting, and utterly bewitching sound of a voice deemed lost forevermore. Striding into the bare, desolate room, he plunged his hands into Maglor's dark, silken hair and greedily plucked those first shivering notes from trembling lips.

Ah! Daemags...a timeless classic haha...

Thank you so much for this prompt! I am always so delighted to get prompts <3

[independence1776]

🪐 🎨

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I got tickets to see the 25th anniversary re-release of The Phantom Menace in theaters.

I found exactly the type of book I wanted to read when I went to the library after supper this evening.

My new work shoes came in the mail.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Ooh, this is a tough one and I took a day to think about it. In Tolkien fandom, my favorite fanart is one of Jenny Dolfen's, though I can't find it online anymore to link to. It's has a pregnant Nerdanel, an angry Fëanor coming into the room, two of the Cs fighting over a stuffed dog, Maglor on the floor playing a harp, and a long-suffering Maedhros in the middle of it all.

I love the energy and dynamics of it. I've loved it since I first saw it and sometimes put it up as my desktop background.

[glorf1ndel]

Ecthelion + sunlight?

Thank you for the prompt! I listened to Hozier's "Sunlight" while writing this fic. Hope you enjoy. <3

Sunlight (~800 words, Glorthelion)

How Ecthelion became fond of sunlight. Or, a love story.

On Ao3 and below!

Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, cannot say he has ever been fond of sunlight. As a child, he loved the rain, for it was an excuse to stay inside and read his favorite books. He also has sensitive eyes, so whenever the sun’s rays hit the white marble of Gondolin, he recoils at the harsh glare and wishes this city had been constructed out of darker stone. What is more, sunlight lays everything bare: the beauty of Gondolin, surely, but also its ugliness. Its poverty and power discrepancies. The fear in King Turgon’s eyes at the smallest mention of Morgoth. And the uncertain look on Ecthelion’s face every time he sees Glorfindel.

Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, was made for sunlight. He is a tall, chiseled elf with a cascade of sunflower-yellow hair and a cheerful smile. Glorfindel and Ecthelion are both soldiers, but therein lies the extent of their similarities. Ecthelion has straight, black hair to Glorfindel’s curly blond. While Ecthelion is known for having a beautiful voice, Glorfindel cannot carry a tune. Where Ecthelion is taciturn, Glorfindel could talk a person’s ear off. Yet not with nonsense – no, Glorfindel is well-spoken, and intelligent, and enthusiastic about everything from swordsmanship to Gondolin’s architecture. Ecthelion is, lamentably, in love with him.

Why “lamentably?” Because there is no chance that Glorfindel feels the same way. They are friendly, but not friends. Besides, Glorfindel has more than a reasonable number of impressive suitors, so even if Ecthelion were among them, there is no reason why the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower should pick him.

Which is why Ecthelion can’t believe it when one day, Glorfindel comes up to him as he stands watch at the Gate of Steel, offers him a bouquet of roses, and asks,

“May I court you?”

Ecthelion’s mind is racing. Yes, of course, Valar, yes, he wants to say, but instead, the first word that comes out of his mouth is,

“Why?”

Glorfindel’s eyes widen, and he bursts out laughing.

“Why? Because I find you kind, and intelligent, and unbearably fair.”

“No, that’s you,” Ecthelion says, like an idiot.

Glorfindel beams at this. Carefully, he holds out the flowers again.

“What do you think?”

There is a hopeful, almost tender look in his eyes; Ecthelion cannot help but smile.

“I think… Yes, you may court me,” he agrees, and the expression on Glorfindel’s face is blinding.

Sunlight, Ecthelion thinks.

****

As it turns out, their courtship is short. Not because anyone is rushing them, but because they fall so deeply in love that they do not see the point in waiting. At first, the other Lords laugh to see Ecthelion and Glorfindel infatuated with each other, but soon enough, they view the couple with fondness, for they can see the affection between them, and it is true. As tradition goes in Gondolin, the courted party asks the courter to marry them, and so it falls to Ecthelion to pose the question.

In a familiar gesture, he offers Glorfindel a bouquet of roses one day. They are in their chambers, after work, for it is raining outside. Besides, Ecthelion wants this moment to be just between the two of them.

“Thank you, my love.” Glorfindel buries his face in the flowers for a moment, looking content. “They’re beautiful. What’s the occasion?”

Ecthelion can feel his heart climb into his chest as he drops to one knee and takes a ring out of his pocket.

“Oh,” Glorfindel breathes. “Is it time?”

“If we wish it. I would say that we have all the time in the world, but I find I cannot bear to spend another moment without being wed to you. Glorfindel, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” he gasps, and sweeps Ecthelion into his arms. His embrace is warm, as always, but this is the first time Ecthelion has thought of it: like sunlight.

They marry a year before Gondolin falls.

****

When the end comes, Ecthelion is one of the first to witness it. He climbs up to the ramparts of Gondolin to see Morgoth’s army approach. It is, without a doubt, monstrous. The screeches of dragons, the roars of balrogs, and the heavy footsteps of orcs resound in Ecthelion’s ears, even though they are miles away. Yet that is not all. Trailing after this army of dread is a dense thundercloud, and the last thing Ecthelion wishes is for this battle to happen in the pouring rain.

Suddenly, below him, the gates of Gondolin open, if only for a moment. He gazes down, and whom does he see in the crowd of soldiers but his husband? Glorfindel is dressed for war, in his full battle armor and with his hair neatly braided. He surveys the landscape before him, including the advancing army, and begins to shout orders to a nearby captain. Ecthelion’s heart swells at the sight of him; at the same time, he shivers in fear. How will this war end for Gondolin? For Glorfindel? For him?

At that moment, Glorfindel looks up and catches sight of Ecthelion on the ramparts. Ecthelion waves, for what can he do? He sees the answering smile on Glorfindel’s face, brighter than anything he’s ever known, and he chants it like a prayer:

Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.

----

Thank you for reading. <3 If you'd like, leave a comment and kudos on Ao3, or like and reblog this post!