There Dairon grieving often stood in sorrow for the captive of the wood, and melodies made upon his flute leaning against a grey tree-root. Lúthien would from her windows stare and see him far under piping there, and she forgave his betraying word for the music and the grief she heard, and only Dairon would she let across her threshold foot to set.
Lay of Leithian, lines 1398-1407
As Lúthien prepares to make her escape from Hírilorn, Daeron visits her for the last time.
In the meantime, I have a collection of the greatest singers of Arda:) Finrod isn’t really about music himself, but I can’t leave him out of it. People like to compareDaeron and Maglor, but I think it’s an absolutely pointless exercise, they’re all about completely different things, and each of them is the greatest, in their own musical theme. Daeron is about the Hidden Realm, not touched by the darkness and distortion, about that magical world where the nightingale trills, the redolent fragrance of night herbs, and the ancient tribe life in harmony with the Forest. Maglor is about greatness and drama of Valinorian Noldor. And Finrod is about creating bridges across the gulfs that divide people, not without some help of his songs)… It’s my opinion, I see it this way!
I took my place beside Mîrwen—I marveled at how she radiated when she smiled at me. We stood with Elmo and Orowen, Galadhon and Celebriel, Galathil and Nárwen on either side of King Thingol and Queen Melian. Oropher, Amdir, Galathil, and Eäros stood with their wives beside Celeborn and Galadriel as they stood before the court to take their vows.
“Celeborn, son of Galadhon,” Daeron began. “You have chosen Galadriel?” “I have,” Celeborn said proudly.
“And you, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin,” another elf said to her. “You have chosen Celeborn?”
“I have,” Galadriel said gazing into Celeborn’s eyes.
Daeron and the elf bowed to Things as he stood to address the couple.
“I say to you both, you have my blessing.”
They shared a kiss and the Great Hall erupted with cheers. Servants cleared the hall to prepare for evening celebrations as we left with the family into an adjacent room beyond the thrones. Once there, I noticed King Thingol speaking to his queen quietly across from us. The door opened.
“Saeros,” Thingol said to the elf that entered. “Come.”
I recognized him as the other officiant. Unlike most elves in the service of the king, he was a Nandor. Today was his first official duty as a member of the council. Graceful and fair, his demeanor reminded me of Denethor.
“That was a beautiful ceremony,” Orowen began. “It was indeed the respite from the goings-on beyond these walls we needed.”
“If you are referring to the sundering of the lands around Beleriand by the sons of Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin, then yes, it was,” Galadhon said quietly.
“It is your son’s wedding day,” Elmo began sternly. “There will be none of that.” “Where has Celeborn gone to,” Mîrwen asked, looking around.
“He is probably with his brother and his cousins,” I said. “His bride was last seen with Lúthien and her ladies.”
“I am rather looking forward to this evening,” Galathil said. “How long has it been since we have found cause to celebrate?”
“Too long,” I said.
Shortly, we found ourselves summoned to the Great Hall again for feast and merriment into the night. When I was not dancing with Mîrwen, I spent my time observing my kin enjoying themselves. Even Súlwë found a measure of happiness as he danced with Galadriel. For a moment, it seemed the past was forgiven.
**** **** **** ****
One morning not long after, I lay in bed—my eyes shut with my mind drifting peacefully in tranquil darkness. I felt Mîrwen move closer to me, her lips touching mine. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. We kissed again and soon we were lost in each other’s arms.
“How is my wife this morning,” I asked.
“She is very happy,” she said.
She kissed me again, but I did not respond.
“What is the matter?”
“It is too quiet,” I answered. “Something is about to happen.”
“Do not be silly,” Mîrwen said, kissing me again.
There was a knock at the door. Mîrwen frowned at me as I smiled at her.
“I told you so,” I whispered. “One moment, if you will,” I said to the door.
Mîrwen rose from our bed and covered herself with her robe.
“Enter,” she said.
When the door opened, several ladies entered. I recognized two of them.
“Good morning, Nimeithel; Valdúril.”
“Orothôn,” Nimeithel said as she turned to Mîrwen. “Wonderful news! Níndi is with child and Galathil has asked Meriel for her hand.”
“That is wonderful news,” Mîrwen cried gleefully.
“Yes,” I began. “Wonderful.”
They all turned and looked at me for what seemed a lifetime.
“Apologies, my love,” Mîrwen finally said.
She motioned for the ladies to follow her to her dressing corner so I could properly cover myself in my robe. It was then another knock came. I sighed deeply.
“Enter,” I said as I sat down on the bed. It was Êlengolas and Finëar.
“You are not in bed,” Finëar said.
I pointed behind me.
“Oh,” he said again.
More dressers entered as Mîrwen emerged dressed for the day. She came to me and whispered into my ear.
“Until later,” she said as she kissed my cheek.
I nodded and she disappeared into the hall with the ladies.
“I do not wish to know,” Êlengolas began. “Please keep that to yourself.”
I let out a weak laugh as the dressers got to work.
“Any word from court other than Galathil’s engagement?”
“Lady Galadriel has left Beleriand,” Finëar said.
“Why,” I asked.
“It is nothing,” Êlengolas added. “She went to see her brother.”
“The king allowed this,” I asked.
“He cannot deny her such a request even as he and his brothers are exiled.”
“Did Celeborn leave with her?”
“No, he remains,” Finëar answered. “He has duties to attend to here.”
“He is the grandson of the king’s brother. Let no grudge go unheld,” Êlengolas said as the dressers finished and left.
The three of us made our way toward the Great Hall.
“Where does Finrod make his home,” I asked.
“Not far from our southwest borders,” Finëar said. “The sons of Fëanor are our north and east.”
“Do not forget Fingolfin and his sons,” Êlengolas said. “They occupy territory in the Northwest regions. All is right with the world.”
“For now,” I said to myself as we continued on our way.
**** **** **** ****
As the years went on, our world began to grow. There were noticeably more elves and naugrim walking the hills and valleys of Arda. After the birth of Eäros and Níndi’s son Ëarmîr, Galathil wed Meriel. Not long thereafter, their daughter Nimloth was born.
In the days following, my visions became more frequent and vivid. I told no one of the darkness and the despair I saw but Oropher seemed to understand whenever I became distant from friends and family.
There were rumors out of Ossiriand from the remnants of the Laiquendi still residing there. A new creature had appeared. Unlike the naugrim, it was said to be far more pleasant to look upon, yet their presence was unwelcome. Saeros would scoff at the stories of his lost people as fantasy as their plight of living under the eyes of two sons of Fëanor was less than ideal.
Queen Melian, however, took these rumors to heart. She said very little on the matter except to tell us not to dismiss these tales out of hand for creation continues under the Heavens. After a while, the rumors would be put aside and we went on with our lives—until the night when the rumors came within the borders of Doriath.
For elves, the night brought us comfort. We awoke beneath the stars so it was not uncommon for any of us to find ourselves outside on cloudless nights lost in thought. On nights such as this, Lúthien would wander out of the palace. It was unclear why—for it had started to become routine. Upon her return each time, her behavior seemed changed. Her cousin Galathil fell suspicious first—telling Oropher she was almost tolerable. Still, no one said a word. It was in her nature, we told ourselves.
One moonlit night, I went to find my son. He was on watch in the keep. When I arrived, he was lost in thought, gazing into the sky.
“What is on your mind, son,” I asked.
“Not a thing,” he said, turning his gaze toward me. “I was enjoying the view.”
I went to join him at the window. It was one of the most beautiful nights I had seen.
“What a view it is,” I said. “It is breathtaking.”
“Perhaps if we were outside,” he began. “I would love to take Nimeithel for a walk.”
“There will be other nights,” I said. “How is Nimeithel?”
“She has been tasked to look after Lúthien,” he answered. “To see where she wanders on the orders of grandmother. She thinks Lúthien has found a new place to wander but she wants to make sure it is not too far from Menegroth.”
“Has she returned,” I asked.
“She never left,” Oropher laughed. “Lúthien escaped before she could follow.”
We look out the window and saw Daeron leaving—crossing the bridge swiftly.
“Where is Daeron going,” I asked.
Oropher looked for himself.
“I do not know, but he has been often wandering out of Menegroth as of late searching for Lúthien.”
“Perhaps he goes for the king,” I said.
“The king does not know,” he answered.
“How is that possible?”
“I cannot say,” Oropher began. “But he does not know Daeron is in love with his daughter.”
“I beg your pardon,” I cried.
“It is true, Ada,” he said. “I do not know how no one has noticed how he looks upon her.”
“Everyone looks upon Lúthien with high regard,” I said.
Oropher laughed.
“He looks upon her as I look upon Nimeithel or Eldôr looks upon Valdúril. He is in love but it is unrequited.”
I looked out again to see Daeron returning from his outing. Even at a distance, I could see he was infuriated.
“He is not happy,” I said.
“How can you tell,” Oropher asked. “He always looks that way.”
“Something has him overwrought,” I said. “Perhaps I should go after him.”
“There is no need to,” Oropher said pointing into the night.
I saw Lúthien coming across the bridge and into the gates. We looked at each other perplexed. I would not be long before the answer to our questions would come walking into the court of King Thingol.––TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 8-03-2019
-Daeron (transmasc) for @polutrope -Andreth for cuarthol -Dior (nonbinary) for @admirablemonster -Lalwen (Irimë) for @melestasflight -Idril the silver-foot, also for melesta :) -Huan (and Celegorm) for @gryphon982
In the meantime, I have a collection of the greatest singers of Arda:) Finrod isn’t really about music himself, but I can’t leave him out of it. People like to compareDaeron and Maglor, but I think it’s an absolutely pointless exercise, they’re all about completely different things, and each of them is the greatest, in their own musical theme. Daeron is about the Hidden Realm, not touched by the darkness and distortion, about that magical world where the nightingale trills, the redolent fragrance of night herbs, and the ancient tribe life in harmony with the Forest. Maglor is about greatness and drama of Valinorian Noldor. And Finrod is about creating bridges across the gulfs that divide people, not without some help of his songs)… It’s my opinion, I see it this way!
Sindarin Portraits pt1: Thingol, Melian, Lúthien, and Daeron.
I thought I’d try revamping my old character design portraits for the Silmarillion! And also practice some anatomy XDDD You can find some of the original portraits here. I don’t know how many other Elves I’ll get to (like the Noldor, Vanyar, etc); for now I’m just focusing on the Sindar, so we’ll see!
Some notes: my design headcanon is that Melian started the tradition of having flower crowns for Sindarin royalty. The important/prominent figures of Doriath’s court wear leaf crowns and such.
Sindarin jewellery is generally made up of clay beads and carved wood. Lúthien’s necklace is the Ring of Barahir, which I headcanon Beren gives to her as her betrothal ring!
Since I feel kinda bad about covering up my anatomy practice with clothes, I’ve decided to include some of the uncoloured sketches in case y’all are interested XDDD For this batch, y’all get Thingol!
