Summary: A look into the House of Finwë, from Maitimo’s point of view. What might their lives have been like before the Darkening, and how did it affect everything that came after?
Maitimo meandered through the palace gardens, stopping only to examine a statue of the Vala Nienna that his mother had carved.
Here there were many statues dedicated to the Ainur, but this one was Maitimo’s favorite, despite not being as intricate in design or as majestic as some of the others. His eyes were always drawn to the tears on the Vala’s downturned face, each encrusted with tiny jewels. The sight comforted him, though he could not have said why.
Tears most often fell in response to pain and sadness, and those things were rare in the Blessed Realm.
“Melkor has retreated to the depths of his fortress,” said Eonwë. “We must force him out.”
“I will lead the attack,” said Finarfin. “Give me an hour to gather my forces.”
For a moment, he thought he’d miscalculated his tone - the confidence of a king and war leader, the deference due to Manwë’s own Herald and the commander of all the Valarin host. He’d gotten so good at it in the last six hundred years since leaving most of his family behind on the edge of the ice, since returning to the Land of Bliss where there were Valar to plead forgiveness of and Teleri to appease with even less hope of success, Vanyar to politely treat with and a shaken, regret-laced, still fire-fueled people to lead with a third of their number gone and Doomed… Eonwë looked at him a moment too long with a gaze like the highest heights of the sky and Finarfin thought he’d finally slipped up.
Then Eonwë nodded and said, “I will bear the Chain. We will meet at the inner gate in one hour.”
the reason the Union of Maedhros almost worked is that every grandchild of Finwë acknowledges on some deep, babysitting-while-our-parents-squabble level that Maedhros is in charge if no adultier adults are present
The tags on this are great. Here are some of them:
There Maedhros in time was healed; for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield his sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been.
[image description: a 3x3 moodboard. 1: a golden sword laid atop a golden shield. 2: black text on a yellow background reading “when you left, i felt like dying.” 3: a white castle surrounded in snow. 4: a purple starscape. 5: Maedhros from the Silmarillion on the background of the nonbinary flag; they are depicted in a picrew as an elf with pale skin, wild red-orange hair, silver eyes, a gnarly scar branching out from one eye, and a grim expression; they are wearing gold hoops in one ear, small red stud earrings, a black choker necklace, and a red cloak with gold ties over bloody bandages concealing more scars on their torso; they are holding a sword in their left hand. 6: black text on a white background reading “Slay” 7: white text on a purple background reading “you don’t have to be who they want you to be” 8: a black crown broken in half. 9: white fire on a black background. end image description.]
Also as long as we’re talking Maedhros and Curufin, you know what fascinates me? Not because it’s objectively a neat parallel (they’re extremely different circumstances and I’m aware of that) but because I think it exemplifies the ways in which they’re different?
When Luthien saves Curufin’s life and he loses only his gear, Curufin is “filled with shame and malice” and tries to kill her.
When Fingon saves Maedhros’s life though he loses his hand, Maedhros responds by begging forgiveness for mistakes which were not even his.
What’s even more interesting, I think, is that Curufin responds to unearned mercy through the lens of wounded pride, while Maedhros responds to unearned mercy through the lens of lowering his pride. Curufin curses Beren, Maedhros brings the curse of Dispossession on himself.
Like I said, these are not really comparable situations, but given how Curufin routinely chooses resentment while Maedhros chooses union, I can’t help but seeing this as part of a much larger pattern that continues to put them at odds
I’ve always believed that the Maedhros’s act of surrendering the kingship must have been choreographed to death. It’s a PR move as much as anything - there are no canonical instances of Maedhros (or any Fëanorian) taking orders from a Ñolofinwean high king, and his primary incentive at the time is almost certainly to avert a civil war. Which makes his choice of language especially interesting:
By this deed Fingon won great renown, and all the Noldor praised him; and the hatred between the houses of Fingolfin and Fëanor was assuaged. For Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion in Araman; and he waived his claim to kingship over all the Noldor, saying to Fingolfin: ‘If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.’ But to this his brothers did not all in their hearts agree.
Significantly, he doesn’t imply that the high kingship was his to being with, and that he’s now givingit to Fingolfin. That’s a political choice. The Ñolofinwean and Arafinwëan hosts are understandably furious with the Fëanorians, but any more conflict between the two groups would be unsustainable. Maedhros is humbling himself, deliberately. He wants to come across as the wise, reasonable eldest brother, smoothing over the conflict and tension of the past few decades.
He also establishes a procedure for the succession. Fingolfin has the right to rule as “the eldest here of the house of Finwë”. And it is presented as a right, not a gift. The eldest of the house of Finwë in Beleriand has a legal claim to the high kingship.
Thesecondeldest of the house of Finwë in Beleriand is, of course, Maedhros.
The procedure for the succession suggested here ultimately isn’t adopted:
Therefore even as Mandos foretold the House of Fëanor were called the Dispossessed, because the over-lordship passed from it, the elder, to the house of Fingolfin, both in Elendë and in Beleriand, and because also of the loss of the Silmarils.
This analysis was written by Pengolodh, at Sirion, centuries after the fact. And, critically, after Fingolfin was succeeded by his son, Fingon. There’s nothing in Maedhros’s dialogue that suggests he intended to transfer the high kingship away from the house of Fëanor. In fact, it would revert to them.
I don’t think Maedhros himself ever wanted to be high king. It wouldn’t have been politically advantageous. He’s relatively autonomous in the north, and getting the rest of the Ñoldor to follow him personally would have wasted valuable fighting-Morgoth time. He doesn’t challenge Fingon’s claim. So why leave the loophole?
I think it’s a point of family pride. If the high king is by default the eldest member of the house of Finwë, it’s indisputable that Fëanor was the high king before his death. Maedhros isn’t particularly interested in the title, but Fëanor was. And Fëanor’s reasons were intensely personal, to an extent that doesn’t apply to any of his sons except possibly Curufin. They’re willing to give up the high kingship temporarily, for the greater good, but they’re not going to admit that their family is out of the succession.
so I was thinking yesterday about Maedhros and Maglor’s final recorded conversation, in which they debate whether to make a suicidal attack for the Silmarils or turn themselves in.
the striking thing about that conversation is that Maglor has the much stronger argument. “‘If none can release us,then indeed the Everlasting Darkness shall be our lot, whether we keep our oath or break it; but less evil shall we do in the breaking.’ Yet he yielded at last to the will of Maedhros,..”
and it’s like: why?if the Everlasting Darkness didn’t move him, if he was resigned to eternal damnation already, if Maedhros’s plan was rather obviously death-by-host-of-Valinor and Maedhros doesn’t even seem to have said anything to justify it, what persuaded Maglor?
but now I think there’s an obvious answer: Maedhros didn’t say this - probably wouldn’t ever have said this - but he was unwilling to be taken prisoner. By anyone, under any circumstances. He’d much rather die than be chained up again, for any reason, and so turning himself in was never ever an option, and as soon as Maglor realized that of course he stopped asking.
Well guys! I was dreaming about such a commission for a long time! Because my small-big dream is to create the portrait gallery of feanorians but as usually - I have no time And… it has happened! Thank you, Molly, for such a wonderful possibility
Contemplating Maedhros trying to pitch to Maglor the idea that baby Turgon should be to him what Fingon is to Maedhros
Maglor, who still can’t believe his place as Maedhros’s Best Friend has been usurped by Literal Infant Fingon, is like “Absolutely not. I will Not babysit for free.”
Tl;dr: This is the story of how Maedhros has Fingon, and Celegorm has Aredhel, and Maglor. is not adopting any of Fingolfin’s kids, thank you very much.
It’s Elros and Elrond’s birthday! Maedhros and Maglor take the birthday boys on a picnic, and are interrupted by the arrival of the Host of Aman. They choose to ignore Finarfin’s existence in favor of spoiling their sons.
I present to you another oneshot AU, this time featuring the Kidnap Owls! Here we have:
Elrond and Elros (aka Plomplets)
Maedros and Maglor
Maglor brooding the plomplets
Maedros preening Elrond
Maedros protecting the plomplets from a crow-spy
I was especially inspired after watching a video about tawny owl mum Luna and her foster chicks (aptly named Dawn and Dusk)! You can watch the first part of their story here if you feel like seeing some cute balls of floof XDDD
