Elven Fashion Week

Fact: Lúthien mostly uses her magic through music, as a possible nod to the Ainulindale; the power of this music was enough to move the heart of Mandos himself

Fact: Arwen is often compared to Lúthien in LOTR and the Professor, to the point where it's stated that "in her the likeness of Lúthien walked in Arda once more" or something, not an exact quote

Fact: The Silmarillion does not, as far as I can tell with my bad reading comp. skills, state directly that Elrond never saw Maglor again during the Second and Third ages

Fact: Maglor was also one of the best musicians in Middle-Earth and, given his epithet "the mighty singer" could very well have possessed similar song magic to Lúthien's

Perfectly reasonable conclusion: Maglor drops by Rivendell; finds Arwen, who inherited Lúthien's gift of music; proceeds to become some incomprehensible combination of music tutor, magical teacher and disaster weird uncle to her; and sticks around for her and Elrond. There are emotional father-son reunions. There are inside jokes like "don't let the TWINS near that WATERFALL!!". Neither Maglor nor Arwen ever has to be lonely again. I continue to procrastinate on the fic.

kidnap dads pillow/blanket forts !!! 🥺

48. Pillow/Blanket Forts

Maedhros halted abruptly as soon as he crossed the threshold of the boys’ room. “What are you doing?”

Elrond and Elros froze guiltily. Elrond looked down at the ground, while Elros scrunched up his nose.

“Building a blanket fort?” he said.

A blanket fort? Maedhros blinked, re-examining the mass of pillows shoved beneath chairs, blankets draped over them, the cozy little cavern the twins had created for themselves. He’d done similar things as a child, he recalled, though there had been no concept of “forts” in Aman. It stung his heart to think that they had never known peace, had been born and raised in a land where even forts did not stand for long...

But this would would, this blanket fort within a fortress. Maedhros would defend Amon Ereb, so the children could defend their quilted creation.

“A fort should have defenses,” Maedhros said, crouching down to inspect it. “It should be strong enough to withstand enemy attack. I would know—I held Himring for centuries, and hold Amon Ereb even now.”

Elrond looked up, eyes wide. “Will you help us, Atya?” he blurted out. “So if Atar comes we can—defend it from him?”

Maedhros laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. “Of course,” he said. “First—let’s spread these chairs out, and find some poles and books to build with, so we can expand our fort and I can fit inside...”

~

“What are you doing?” Maglor asked, baffled, as his brother and their sons marched past him with arms full of blankets, books, and...stilts?

The twins scampered on ahead, completely oblivious, but Maedhros paused, a cheery sparkle in his eyes that Maglor hadn’t seen there since...before Fingon died.

“I’m instructing them in siege warfare,” he pronounced. “Keep out of their room for an hour or two, alright? You’ll be playing the enemy, eventually. Just like our drills back in the day!”

“Atya!” Elros called. “C’mon!”

Maedhros grinned—grinned!—and all but pranced away, more excited than Maglor could remember him being in a very long time. A little morbid that it was battle tactics that put such a spring in his step, but, well, that was Maedhros...and Maglor saw the truth. His brother was happy to feel useful, instructing the twins on something important, something he knew well, and able to spend time with his sons as well.

He shook his head with a smile, already turning over ideas of how to play the game along with them. If Maedhros had a hand—hah—in the fort they were building, it would take a little more than knocking over a chair to take it down...not that he’d really do that. He’d let the boys take him hostage.

After all, of the four of them that comprised this strange little family, he was the only one who’d never been kidnapped before!

I don’t know what little cat needs to hear this but. it is Not Dinner Time. you are not going to starve and it will be okay.

I absolutely love that hobbits have such a low threshold for weirdness or "not like folks round here" that a Ringwraith doesn't register as more than just a rather odd customer. because everyone is a rather odd customer. you're already tall and dressed funny, sure, you may as well have no face and hiss at people

Damn I just realized that since the Rohirrim didn’t read or write (wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs) that means Eowyn couldn’t read or write and since she marries Nerdboy McGee who loves reading and writing more than anything you can your bottom dollar one of the first thing that happens in their courtship/marriage is Faramir and Eowyn wholesome tutoring sessions in the Minas Tirith library (!) 

It is told that Curufinwë son of Curufinwë crafted for his brother a magnificent limb of metal to replace that which Fingon their cousin had rent in order to save him. Yet no lesser was the second of his cunning prosthetics: a palantír, small enough to be held between two fingers, a Stone to See by which Maedhros took and used for his own. For while one of his once-sharp eyes, now filmed milky white, lay still whole in its socket, its match had been destroyed and its place was sunken and empty.

Thus so did Curufinwë build his lord anew.

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[I. D.: a tweet by KeithPille.bsky.social on July 16, 2024 reading, “Worth thinking about how long Tolkien goes on in Return of the King about despair being a weapon, and presenting defeat as a forgone conclusion being a deliberate and effective tactic”]

My autistic brain: I realize that toast with jam and cereal with yogurt are your go-to meals when you don't have the energy to cook, but have you considered that today is a low viscosity sugar day? Jam and yogurt are off the table

Me: okay, what about substituting honey for jam?

My brain: yeah, that works

[Frodo] appears at first to have had no sense of guilt (III 224-5) he was restored to sanity and peace. But then he thought that he had given his life in sacrifice: he expected to die very soon. But he did not, and one can observe the disquiet growing in him. Arwen was the first to observe the signs, and gave him her jewel for comfort, and thought of a way of healing him.

[It is not made explicit how she could arrange this. She could not of course just transfer her ticket on the boat like that! For any except those of Elvish race ‘sailing West’ was not permitted, and any exception required ‘authority’, and she was not in direct communication with the Valar, especially not since her choice to become ‘mortal’. What is meant is that it was Arwen who first thought of sending Frodo into the West, and put in a plea for him to Gandalf (direct or through Galadriel, or both), and she used her own renunciation of the right to go West as an argument. Her renunciation and suffering were related to and enmeshed with Frodo’s: both were parts of a plan for the regeneration of the state of Men. Her prayer might therefore be specially effective, and her plan have a certain equity of exchange. No doubt it was Gandalf who was the authority that accepted her plea.] -Letter #246

The entire letter is worth reading re:Frodo, but I love how it’s Arwen who noticed how Frodo was traumatized, Arwen who comes up with a plan to help him, and Arwen who initially argues his case, not Gandalf or Galadriel or Elrond. She was no doubt thinking of her mother, but I also wonder if her choosing to be mortal played into realizing how much the Ring had hurt Frodo, giving her a visceral understanding of how he didn’t have all the ages of Arda to recover but only a limited time. 

(Side note: it’s not explicit, but I firmly believe Arwen made the white jewel that she gives Frodo. Arwen as a weaver and jewelsmith both? Yesssss.)

so there’s that version in which Miriel leaves for Lorien and dies a bit later… consider; preteen Feanor inventing embroidery and weaving machines in an attempt to give his ailing mother the ability to create something back even if she no longer has the strength to.