#tgw22

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@tolkiengenweek day two | friendship ● animals | aiwendil and the kelvar

Radagast is, of course, a worthy wizard, a master of shapes and changes of hue; and he has much lore of herbs and beasts, and birds are especially his friends.

—The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, “The Council of Elrond”

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For @tolkiengenweek day one, family, mentorship, community

Here are just a few examples of headcanons about apprenticeship, mentorship and craft in Beleriand with as much world building as I can add in

I talk about Noldorin practices of apprenticeship in Valinor here!

Elven education

Three notes:

1. For this I did the Noldor of Beleriand, the Sindar of Doriath, the Halidan and the Bëorians. this does not comprise all the peoples of Middle Earth and Arda so please feel free to send me more groups for me to go over!

2. I also didn’t go into all or even most of the crafts and trades so also feel free to ask more about that or ask about a group I covered here so I can go more in detail

3. I mostly focused on practical crafts and trades and not ones usually undertaken as artistic pursuits but these absolutely existed too and as always feel free to ask about them!

Elves:

The Noldor had a complex system of apprenticeship in Valinor but this was largely abandoned in Beleriand. Most of the hosts of both Fëanor and Fingolfin had already gone through one and/or were skilled in at least one trade or craft.

During the Watchful Peace and other calmer periods, a less intensive system was used by some of the Noldorin establishments in Beleriand. Youth born in Beleriand were encouraged to take up at least one trade regardless of if they planned to later take part in the war.

Gondolin and Nargothrond both utilizes practices from their Noldorin and Sindarin founders and Nargothrond also had influence from two Telerin peoples; the Falmari under Olwë in Valinor and the Falathrim under Círdan in Beleriand.

Noldorin youth tend to undergo apprenticeships for what would be about three to six years for humans and often longer. Two to four years was average in Beleriand. They live in the home of their mentor and typically pay by taking part in caring for the house and land and by assisting in any trade for profit their teacher takes part in (for example delivering finished metal work for a blacksmith, etc)

Mentor relationships are highly valued among the Noldor who love the pursuit of knowledge and learning. In Valinor some period of teaching is expected for experts in their craft, trade or field. For those who do not wish to teach or who struggle with communicating directly, producing and writing manuals and books of instruction or history of a craft or area of study is considered nearly as valuable if not equally so to directly teaching.

Metalwork and smithing including weapon making, collecting, utilizing and crafting with minerals and ores, carpentry, building and architecture, hunting and rangership, and some forms of cultivation were among the more common trades.

Sindar of Doriath: Among the royal family and the collection of families that live in and around Menengroth, children are taught in small groups history, lore, language and runes, forestcraft,

Outside Menengroth these topics and others are usually taught within families or sometimes organized among collections of families.

Elves who have lived long in Doriath and are extremely knowledgeable about the world around them are an important part of learning especially for the elves who live outside Menengroth. Though there is not necessarily a formal system, most growing elflings find mentors in their smaller communities often choosing them based on what parts or aspects of Doriath they are partial to or their philosophy of the forests.

Formal apprenticeships are also not uncommon both in and out of Menengroth. Cultivation and use of silk and fibers, fiber crafts, herbalism and herb/plant lore, rangership and cultivation of plants and other things grown, collected or otherwise used for food, and record keeping are among the more common trades.

Edain:

Halidan

The Halidan do not have a formal apprenticeship system but rather decide and delegate within families and smaller community groups. It is not uncommon for children to shadow relatives or others close to the family to learn their craft or trade. We know from The Children of Húrin that the Edain in Beleriand frequently sent their children to stay with others to study or learn fighting.

Leather work, carpentry and woodwork, hunting and defense, and herb lore and medicine were among the common trades. Leather came from the pigs the Halidan kept and through trade with the Hadorians

Prior to Dagor Bragollach, the Bëorians had a custom of apprentice and mentorship similar to the Noldor (though not necessarily learned from them, these developed independently). Youth would leave their homes to stay with an expert in their trade to assist them and learn from them. Typically, crafters would announce when they had need of aid and the time to teach and youth would apply.

Records and history, carpentry, fiber crafts using sheep wool and goats fir as well as fibrous plants, cultivation and agriculture, and medicine and healing practices were among the common trades

Requests and asks are open and welcome!

[arofili]

@tolkiengenweek​ day four | solo ● work and craft ● language | daeron of doriath

In those days, it is said, Daeron the Minstrel, chief loremaster of the kingdom of Thingol, devised his Runes; and the Naugrim that came to Thingol learned them, and were well-pleased with the device, esteeming Daeron's skill higher than did the Sindar, his own people.

—The Silmarillion, “Of the Sindar”

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@tolkiengenweek day six | environment ● places | nan dungortheb

Between Mindeb and the upper waters of Esgalduin lay the no-land of Nan Dungortheb; and that region was filled with fear, for upon its one side the power of Melian fenced the north march of Doriath, but upon the other side the sheer precipices of Ered Gorgoroth, Mountains of Terror, fell down from high Dorthonion. Thither, as was earlier told, Ungoliant had fled from the whips of the Balrogs, and there she dwelt a while, filling the ravines with her deadly gloom, and there still, when she had passed away, her foul offspring lurked and wove their evil nets; and the thin waters that spilled from Ered Gorgoroth were defiled, and perilous to drink, for the hearts of those that tasted them were filled with shadows of madness and despair. All living things else shunned that land, and the Noldor would pass through Nan Dungortheb only at great need, by paths near to the borders of Doriath and furthest from the haunted hills. 

—The Silmarillion, “Of Beleriand and its Realms”

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@tolkiengenweek day five | culture ● diversity | khand and its people

Khand was an independent Kingdom of Men to the southeast of Mordor. Their people were ancestrally related to both the Easterlings and the Haradrim, but in the aftermath of Sauron’s defeat in the War of the Last Alliance, a group of dissatisfied warriors deserted their commanders and settled around Zakhrad, the Mountain of Light, upon which they built the capital city of their new nation.

With their neighbors to the east and south weakened by war, Khand rose to prosperity without much competition, trading occasionally with Gondor to the west and developing their own culture and customs. Their dialect of the eastern tongue became known as Veradja, and they called themselves the Veradi, the People of the Moon, for they venerated the Moon in their religion adapted from the Sun-worship of Rhûn.

—Peoples of Arda: Men of Middle-earth, “The Veradi of Khand”

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Unattainable

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

General post Angband warnings for trauma, aftermath of captivity and torture, effects of extended enforced immobility, nightmares, implied abuse, fear of someone taking or moving mobility aids without permission (it’s an unfounded fear but based in understandable reasons, see my many posts on Maedhros and autonomy, etc)

I try to avoid rambling or meta about post Angband Maedhros in the story notes here hence why I link the masterlist but I have SO many thoughts as is well, obvious And always feel free to ask more

@tolkiengenweek day four, solo 💙

I’m taking requests for all Tolkien gen week prompts and very much want them!

Himring era, around the time of this story

Maedhros scrambled backwards, throwing his covers off. Gripped by an otherworldly terror, he could not decide whether to resume a defensive or submissive posture. On more than one previous occasion he had battled with himself even as he knew he had only seconds until the monster in the doorway was near enough to touch him. 

There was no monster in the doorway. 

But there was little relief in his heart. He let his eyes adjust to what was not Angband, trying to breathe. Pain

The darkness he remembered swallowed and contorted what should have been the peaceful stillness of his room. Maedhros lay flat on his back, his covers sticky with sweat and blood from an old wound he had inadvertently dug into. The winter was raging beyond the too fragile glass on his windows but his body had been burning upon waking. 

The pain licked at his stiff limbs like a slow fire and indeed the body of Maitimo had been exposed to the agony of open flames twice or more. The strange, uneven marks upon his skin easy to lose sight of among the litany of other scars he bore. The crutches were by his bed of course as always they were.

A reoccurring fear had been plaguing him, a paranoia really; that in the night one could move or take the devices and leave him near helpless. There was no one in particular he thought might act in such a way and little reason to believe that any would at all. Nonetheless it was always with an unease that he propped them up beside his bedside table before commencing his nighttime routine

He had dreamed that night of the throne room, of his limbs spread at obscene angles with thin chains, suspended above the floor in such a way he could not stand to look down without a piercing whine of vertigo striking him. His hair matted with blood stuck against the ice cold stone behind him.

Eyes open, little kinslayer. Take thy punishment as thou knows is right. ( In the waking world a small sound rose in Maedhros’s throat)

A frigid lash of pain landed over his thighs and genitals as the horrid whip they had brought out today hit him again. Those fingers had run ever so casually along the most recent smearing the blood over his thighs, stomach and parts more intimate. Maitimo convulsed in the iron clad grip of the chains that prevented any cover, any hiding.

It was the feeling of His hand Maedhros dreamed most of, felt even when no visuals accompanied it, sensed even in what should have been the safety of daylight. The Silmarils burnt the hands of the Moringotto and those hands in turn marred him. Even as he had slowly regained strength, he would still more often find the muscles of his arms, torso, and legs plagued by the phantom touch he recognized perfectly.

Maedhros steadied himself sitting in bed with both legs swung over, left hand on one crutch. There was a crevice in the other where he could let his right arm rest until he could limp over to where his prosthetic was kept. The morning would be difficult to detect amid the swirling gray of winter at Himring. The snow brushed tops of pine trees were just visible from the window, clustered at the base of the hill.

Morning has arrived however and the longer he lingered here, the longer he would stew in his thoughts and the agony of his old chains. Maedhros slowly stood, the first few steps slightly painful as he regained his balance, the proper positioning for his arms not yet muscle memory. It would be, in time.

The sky was a pale gray blue and the winds of the night had scattered pine needles onto the windowsill alongside the customary brush of snow. Maedhros took a breath to allow the outside to coat his mouth, the cold aching in his throat an unbearable relief.

[arofili]

@tolkiengenweek day three | enemies and rivalries | ar-pharazôn v. tar-míriel

And it came to pass that Tar-Palantír grew weary of grief and died. He had no son, but a daughter only, whom he named Míriel in the Elven-tongue; and to her now by right and the laws of the Númenóreans came the sceptre. But Pharazôn took her to wife against her will, doing evil in this and evil also in that the laws of Númenor did not permit the marriage, even in the royal house, of those more nearly akin than cousins in the second degree. And when they were wedded, he seized the sceptre into his own hand, taking the title of Ar-Pharazôn (Tar-Calion in the Elven-tongue); and the name of his queen he changed to Ar-Zimraphêl.

—The Silmarillion, “Akallabêth: The Downfall of Númenor”

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For @tolkiengenweek day three

Prompt: mentorships with some fealty

Have a young, eighteen year old Húrin, only a few months after returning from Gondolin

Fealty is a theme I am…rather obsessed with as @mai-sau and @tol-himling among others will attest to so I will definitely be returning to this day’s prompts, I just wanted to have something out this week

Look this is from barely adult Húrin’s point of view and so is quite idealistic!!!  I think Húrin develops more nuanced views as he gets older, even just within the next few years And rest assured I have both more balanced and just darker takes on all this in abundance

on that note bonus points if I end up using this for That Fic TM about Fingon and Húrin

For Húrin was often long away from home with the host of Fingon that guarded Hithlum’s Eastern borders and when he returned his quick speech full of strange words and jests and half meanings bewildered Túrin and made him uneasy.” The Children of Húrin, Chapter One, “The Childhood of Túrin”

“I am Húrin Thalion, son of Galdor Orchal, Lord of Dor-lómin and once a high captain in the host of Fingon King of the Northern Realm. Let no man dare to deny it!” -”The Wanderings of Húrin” (in Volume 11 of HoME)

Húrin was the shortest in stature of the small group of men gathered in the great hall of the King but none reached the shoulder of any of the attending Noldor or their allies and the differences in height among his kin were inconsequential here. They all stood as equals before the throne flanked by several Noldor captains, some he recognized by name and deed though had never formally been introduced.

Even after the time he had spent with the elves, -nigh a year in a city of them!-they were still a wonder to Húrin. 

 He was dressed in light blue robes that were rather impractical should any fighting break out but he enjoyed them greatly nonetheless. King Fingon of the North who sat upon a simple but elegant wooden carved throne was in regal blue of a much darker, richer shade than him or his men. Húrin noted in awe the detail work along the cuffs and collars, his face coloring slightly when one of his kinsman smirked and kicked at his unprotected leg. He turned his attention back to the face of the king as he spoke, addressing first the elves beside him and then the small group of Hador’s people. 

The king was clearly the brother of Lord Turgon. There was no one he could speak this to but the thought was burned into him all the same. There were differences yes, stark ones at that. Lord Turgon had darker, more solemn eyes, the smiles that could alight his face were far more hidden than the king who was bright and cheerful how he had never known the lord of Gondolin to be. But their hair, the shape of their faces, the way their hands moved...it was uncanny. Húrin tried to bring his mind from these thoughts for of course the uncanniness was one he should never have known. 

Fortunately there was so much in the hall to occupy his attention, even from such large matters. His companions were finishing their vows and were looking at him expectantly.  The expression of the king was difficult to read but it was not intimidating and the man’s nerve eased slightly though his heart was fluttering, nearly dizzying as he took his steps to the foot of the throne and with all the grace he could muster, knelt. As was custom he knelt first upon one knee, eyes up at his king and then when King Fingon nodded, to the next stance, upon both knees, head bowed in reverence. 

He barely felt the floor beneath him as he knelt. The youth around him, ever jesting and raucous in the years he had known them were as silent, surely as awestruck as he was. There was an almost protective quality as they stood around their kneeling kinsman though Húrin felt nothing if not safe and secure. His legs trembled minutely as he stood 

“I welcome you to my service, Húrin of Dor-lómin.” The smile of the king was a warm one when Húrin looked up to meet it. “My father gladly and gratefully held both your father and his father before him in his own service and I have had the good fortune to meet these noble men.” When he himself contemplated the legacy of his father and grandfather Húrin felt overwhelmed. When King Fingon spoke of them he felt only pride, happiness at the opportunity to follow in their footsteps. 

The man stands at the king’s nod and walks in a dream to the table to join his kin, uncharacteristically quiet as one is quick to point out though his tone is light, jesting. A few minutes later the small group of Noldor lead by King Fingon join them. 

The conversation is shockingly casual, friendly! First among his own men, yes but the Noldor join in with ease, joking and teasing quickly and sharply. Most speak Sindarin but there are words too in Quenya, he knows their sound but not their meaning. It was said that they were forbidden to use this tongue but he is glad all the same to hear it. Húrin has always admired the ways of speaking among the elves. His brother teases him for how he has, intentionally and then often not, picked up on them, repeated them. He decided then he would need to learn more of the tongue of the high elves, even if he could not find formal instruction. In Gondolin there were phrases he had learned, greetings, jests, patterns. But they were hidden away as they must be and he dared not speak them aloud even in solitude. 

The wine he drinks is stronger than he was used to but in consequences alone; unlike the rich, oaken wine of his people this was light and summery, leaving him feeling rather giddy. He had to put in conscious effort to pace himself and sooner than he expected felt his head spinning. He would not ride back till the next morning of course but who could say how long this would affect him. The last thing Húrin wanted was to make a fool of himself, here and now. 

The food acts to ground him though it does not bring elegant words to his mouth to respond to the king’s occasional address and surely this is not merely the result of the wine. King Fingon smiles at him however and does not appear upset by his clumsy words. 

The dinner is ended with their orders for their first month in the service of the king but even this cannot dampen his mood. He is not naive, Húrin is well aware of why he has come to serve the king and that the occasion is not strictly a joyful one.  They will return after a brief respite at home to the Tower and the rushing river to receive further instruction from the king. Many will serve at the border of Dor-lómin and further East at the borders of Hithlum where the hosts and scouts of orcs dare ever closer. The memory of his father hangs heavily upon him at this and of the Battle of flame he did not himself witness but which has touched so closely those he loved. If another like this could be prevented, mitigated, surely any risk he took was worth it. 

Of the seven men he has come with, six will return home from their first mission, a bitter victory in every sense. 

(look it’s not my best work I wrote some of this while unmedicated and very sleepy but I hope it’s ok!)

two more author’s notes: 

1. Húrin is absolutely naive. 

2. Húrin is not yet engaged but will be soon and is aware that this is likely to happen. He has absolutely gotten caught by Morwen, Huor and Aerin on different occasions practicing his bowing and vows. Morwen is a little bemused and is just the slightest bit quietly judgmental, Aerin thinks it’s absolutely hilarious, Huor does too but he’s done the same so he can’t say much.