So, nobodies probably interested in me going on about how, in many ways, Fingon and Maedhros’ and Keith and Shiro’s relationship has parallels to each other?
(in other words, I rant about two if my favorite pairings, sheith and russingon)
“His valour was as a fire yet steadfast as the hills of stone; wise he was and skilled in voice and hand; troth and justice he loved and bore goodwill to all, both Elves and Men, hating Morgoth only; he sought not his own, neither power nor glory, and death was his reward.”
A final sketch of Fingon. Dear Followers, It looks like this is my final post here! It’s time to finally say goodbye to this blog but…I was hoping I’d be able to leave with more control. Though being more active on twitter is part of why I haven’t been updating this blog the other main reason is I’ve lost access to it on the computer. The only reason I’m able to make this post is because I’ve thankfully been logged in on the Tumblr app on my phone. Since late last year I haven’t been able to log in on the computer because it keeps telling me there’s no account under the email I use (even though it’s the correct email I’m using). Tumblr has been super unhelpful by never answering any of the help requests I’ve sent them. Honestly, I don’t understand why they don’t have the option of changing your account’s email on the mobile app. I wish I could at least give control of this account to my other account. I’ve given up hope regaining access. I thought about deleting this blog since I’ll no longer have access to it once I log off on my phone but I guess I should keep up for the sake of archiving and also for those who still want to look at my old art. I really don’t know. If this does stay open please continue to respect my wishes to not repost/use my art without permission. Before I go I’d like to thank you all for supporting my art these past few years. It’s hard to believe I started this when I was graduating high school and now I’m 24. It was a lot of fun making friends here and I’m really grateful for the silmarillion/tolkien fandom especially. If you guys would still like to follow me/my art there are several places you can go: Twitter: - @ motherofbees: this is my most active account out of all. It’s my main twitter and it’s mostly me re/tweeting stuff related to fandoms I’m in/animals/whatever I find interesting or important. I also post art on here but it’s all fanart. If you want to know whenever I re-open my shop this is the account to follow. - stephescamora: this is my art twitter mostly for original art or finished fanart I really like. It’s also a sort of journal for my life. Any future Tolkien art will be found here. Tumblr: - same username as the art twitter one though twitter is updated more often. I’m probably gonna make a new IG with that username and I’ll announce it on twitter/blog. Well, that’s it I think! Sorry in advance if this post uploads as one giant paragraph. I can’t really tell how this will look since mobile is so unreliable. Again, thank you everyone for your kindness and for following my art. See you later
*gets hands on CSP, first art is russingon* partially inspired by this scene:
So Maeglin pushes back his chair with his heart in his throat and joins the others at the gate, not knowing what he expects to see.
Prince Fingon hasn’t even dismounted yet. He rode alone into the courtyard, a single elf upon a single horse, and he has no eyes for all those who have come to greet him save only one person.
Maedhros is holding his horse by the bridle while Fingon leans down, cups Maedhros’ scarred face, and beams with the brightness of rare winter sun against snow.
Oh , thinks Maeglin, struck dumb, and drops his eyes in embarassment. Suddenly a great deal of comments, and jokes, and long, fond ramblings from his lord fall into place.
(partially because I drew most of it before double checking the details, and thus things do not quite match)(but as always pls check it out I love this fic)
Hi@arlenianchronicles, I hope you don’t mind me joining in on your dtiys challenge! I’ve been wanting to do it since you posted it, so today I just finally did it ^-^
Set immediately after Maedhros surrenders the crown of the Noldor to Fingolfin.
900 words, can be read as gen or slash. PG.
———–
“Kneel,” Fingolfin says, voice gentle and implacable, and Maedhros falls to his knees at once.
Fingon has seen his father like this before, with others of their household, and never thought much about it. His father is kind and patient with those who are loyal to him, it is only right they should freely come to him for comfort at need. It is nothing like the way his father was with his mother, no hint of the desires of spouses coloring it. But seeing Maedhros on his knees like this, obedient, trusting, he feels the sharp clench of desire deep in his belly and wonders if he should not.
His father’s hand strokes over Maedhros’s tight braids, copper head unburdened by the crown Fingolfin now wears, and Maedhros leans into the touch like a loyal hound. Something passes between the two of them, a private exchange of thoughts that Fingon knows only from the way Maedhros’s shoulders unknot.
Fingolfin turns away from Maedhros and walks to his armchair, settling down in it beside the crackling warmth of the fire and drawing a blanket across his lap. Maedhros waits unmoving on his knees in the center of the room, barefoot and wearing only his shirtsleeves and hose. Fingon knows he must be cold on the stone floor, his right knee and left hip aching as they so often do, but he remains perfectly motionless, eyes cast down beneath coppery lashes and hand clasping his wrist behind him.
Fingon had never had the patience for these kinds of quiet intimacies, too restless to either give or receive, always shooed off even when merely present for being too noisy or distracting. Now, when it was Maedhros at his father’s feet, he was transfixed. He did not think he could move or speak if he wanted to.
Long moments pass while Fingolfin stares into the leaping flames, seeming to wait for something. The itch to speak, to act, begins to grow in Fingon, but Maedhros’s stillness yet holds him captive. “Come here, Maedhros,” his father bids at last, and to his shock proud Maitimo shivers and crawls across the floor on hands and knees. He finds himself bracing for one of the sudden dark turns that too often afflict Maedhros since his rescue, the act awakening some memory of unbearable cruelty.
The whites of his eyes are showing, the faintest keen rising in his throat, but still Maedhros settles on the thick rug at Fingolfin’s feet. The king gathers up the now warm blanket on his lap and wraps it around tense shoulders, drawing the copper head down to rest in his lap. He murmurs something to Maedhros that seems to sooth him, and looks up to catch Fingon with his gaze.
“Fingon, come here. Unbraid his hair.”
The knot of desire that had loosened within Fingon at once drew tight. His steps were ungraceful as he drew close to Maedhros and began to kneel down.
“No, don’t kneel. Draw up the footstool there and sit on it as you work,” his king directed.
He did as he was bid. Like this his knees were level with Maedhros’s shoulders, just right to unpin copper braids and drape them across his lap. They are bound and beaded with green-gold, pinned up by long forks set with garnet. Unraveling them is a lengthy task, but one Fingon has always loved. It keeps the knot of desire within him drawn taut, but Maedhros seems at ease and that is too rare a gift to disturb.
When every pin and bead and clasp has been set aside safely and copper waves fall in a halo around Maedhros’s shoulders, Fingolfin speaks again. He cups Maedhros’s chin and tips it up to catch hazy grey eyes. “My brush is on the table there across the room. Go fetch if for me, dear one, and the crystal flask beside it.”
Maedhros makes a quiet noise of assent and rises, unsteady on his feet in a way that Fingon has seldom seen before and only after the application of several bottles of wine. There was a single cup of wine shared between Maedhros and his father at the ceremony, but no more; hardly enough to cause his cousin’s loose-limbed relaxation.
The brush is retrieved, and Maedhros returns to settle on his knees again before them.
“Well done, thank you,” the king praises him, and a smile of simple happiness glows on Maedhros’s face as he hands over brush and flask. Fingolfin passes the brush to Fingon, and spreads the sweet oil in the flask on his own hands, then presses his fingers to Maedhros’s temples. He rubs small, tight circles there, then slowly moving along Maedhros’s hairline, down to his brow and back out to the temples. Fingon runs the brush gently through copper strands and watches the way tension melts from uneven shoulders and knotted arms, caught up himself in whatever magic his king is working. Soon Maedhros is nearly asleep, and Fingolfin stays Fingon’s hand, trading soothing touches for a quiet song.
It is hours later when Fingolfin rises and guides Maedhros into Fingon’s arms. “Put him to bed, with hot stones to warm him, and see that he has a warm drink before he sleeps and a pitcher of water for when he wakes. He should not have nightmares tonight, but he would be glad of your presence nonetheless, if you would stay beside him.”
Following the success of Fëanorian Week and Gondolin Week with so many support and love from you guys, and for tons of messages we ( @windrelyn ) have received since yesterday asking if we are going to celebrate Nolofinwëan Week, we decided that…YES! We’re in!
Nolofinwëan Week 2019 will happen from August 4th to August 10th, 2019* for full seven days! Details for each day is as follow.
Day 1 – August 4th: Fingolfin & Anairë
Day 2 – August 5th: Fingon
Day 3 – August 6th: Turgon & Elenwë
Day 4 – August 7th: Aredhel
Day 5 – August 8th: Argon
Day 6 – August 9th: Idril
Day 7 – August 10th: Maeglin
*We choose this particular period because it includes number “456”, which was the year our High King Fingolfin challenged the Dark Lord Morgoth.
ANY forms of fan works: edits, fanfics, meta, fan art, video, etc. is accepted and appreciated.
To participate, please add #nolofinweanweek to your posts.
As always, our box is open for any questions and suggestions!
So there are ginger baby seals and that fact led to the mental image of Fingon, on the Helcaraxe, adopting all the baby seals whose mothers had been hunted and eaten by his people, because they were ginger and nobody dared hurt a ginger thing in front of him.
Therefore here you have Fingon, taking his herd of baby seals for a walk.
