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The case against Finrod revisionism 

I’ve always been frustrated by what I see as bad-faith interpretations of Finrod’s character. You don’t have to like him or find him interesting, but it bothers me when people make claims about him that don’t make sense. When it comes to Finrod, they usually follow a similar pattern, something like: ‘I thought Finrod was good the first time I read the Silmarillion, but now I think he’s bad.’ ‘I thought Finrod was a friend of Men at first, but now I think he actually looked down on the Edain and treated them poorly.’ ‘Finrod comes across as a perfect good guy in the Silmarillion, but what if he’s secretly manipulative and evil?’ That’s what I’m calling Finrod revisionism. This is not a callout post; I’m just giving my reasons why ‘Finrod is actually evil and the Silmarillion is lying to you’ is not a take that does it for me. I think it’s entirely fair to criticize Finrod. He’s not perfect and if he were I think he would be less interesting (more on that later). I just do not vibe with interpretations of his character that paint him as someone who intentionally sacrificed the Edain in battle, someone who committed genocide against the Petty-dwarves, or someone who held prejudiced views, and I think those interpretations are unsupported by canon. This is a long post, so I’ll put it under the cut.

Continua a leggere

the mortal LaCE loophole

Anyway fun little factoids for fanfiction writers who want to be maliciously canon compliant with LaCE are that: 1. an elf without descent from Earendil and Elwing does not have the Choice, and does not necessarily die when their mortal partner does out of grief; case to point; Mithrellas, who just left one day 2. the rule post-statute is that no elf may have more than one spouse in this world at the same time 3. even if you go by the very strictest of LaCE interpretations (it’s not a cultural document but literally biologically true, sex = marriage even if no vows to Eru/Valar are made) … this still allows for what I refer to as the Mortal Loophole 4. because mortals do not stay within the circles of the world after death 5. congratulations! your elves can practice serial monogamy with mortals and be entirely canon compliant 6. literally, this is not against any of the laws. infinite mortal spouses. 7. this can either be a horror scenario (pre-existing inequalities in the first age between elves and humans + disposable spouses? hm…) OR just an excuse for 100% canon compliant slutty elves I guess. Just with mortals. 8. No, elves don’t only marry for true love guaranteed to kill them in the event of death – as noted, again, both by LaCE and demonstrated by Mithrellas’ actual behaviour. Luthien was an exception adn should not have been counted. 9. Then why did Aegnor leave? As stated in Athrabeth; he’s Noldorin royalty and has some wacky idea about No Romance During War* (*in part because to Tolkien as a Catholic marriage = children, and children during war = big no no to Noldor for reasons that do make sense) and also he was afraid of seeing Andreth age, elves are capable of living more in memory etc. 10. Anyway not every elf is highly principled Noldorin royalty. 11. Unfortunately the outcome of elf/mortal pairings = default mortal child unless you’re a descendant of Earendil. Somewhat traumatic for an elvish parent 12. But as Eol demonstrates shitty elvish parents exist, and also having a child is a conscious act for them anyway. So they could just. Not.

I was thinking about how one of the defining features of both Fëanor and Fingolfin is anger. It’s more obvious with Fëanor (drawing a sword on his brother, swearing a very threateningly worded oath), but it’s also true for Fingolfin. Tolkien says Fingolfin was of a different temperament and yeah, maybe he was more restrained and less reckless, but still it was partially anger at Fëanor that pushed him to cross the Helcaraxë, and it was anger that made him go and confront Satan.

In contrast, their firstborn sons rarely do anything out of anger. Fingon’s driven by loyalty, friendship and compassion, even when he has every right to feel betrayed and angry. It is said he hated Morgoth only, but even that hatred isn’t shown on page through anger (defiance maybe but not anger). His last charge against Morgoth’s forces was born from hope unlike his father’s.

As for Maedhros, he laughs when he receives Thingol’s condescending answer, while his brothers are mad. I don’t think he felt angry even before/during the kinslayings but rather frustrated and desperate. While his deeds of surpassing valor during the Bragollach faintly resemble Fingolfin’s furious charge (his spirit burned like a white fire within / his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar), the wording here sooner reminds me of the fire of life was hot within him (and whose ardour yet more eager burnt) used to describe Maedhros before. It’s fire of life / white fire for Maedhros and filled with wrath and despair and great madness of rage for Fingolfin.

Finarfin, though, is not angry like his brothers, he’s soft-spoken and peaceful, and nopes out of their mess pretty fast. At first glance, his firstborn son is like him. He’s friends with everyone, beloved by everyone, but I can’t forget the moment Finrod threw away his crown (such a great scene, it’s been living in my head since the moment I read it, probably because it was unexpected to see such a furious gesture from Finrod). It makes me think that he was more similar to his uncles that he’d like to believe, but he was slightly better at controlling his rage.

Whenever I read LotR and reach the battle between Eowyn and the Witch-king, I get the impression that the reason why the prophecy loophole works isn’t that the Witch-king is unkillable except for some illogical weakness nobody had thought about yet for misogynistic reasons, but that the Witch-king himself derives so much of his power from the fear he instills in others and from his own belief that he is unkillable. Eowyn doesn’t fear him, because she doesn’t fear death. When she twists his words right back at him, she’s not trying to exploit a prophecy loophole, she’s just making a play on the double meaning of the word «man» with fairly standard battlefield bravado.

But, crucially, it gets the Witch-king wondering if there might be an actual loophole in the prophecy. He starts doubting his own invincibility. There’s no logical reason why a woman might be able to kill him if a man cannot, but prophecies are tricky things. What if …

And this is what undoes him, in the end. This last minute doubt. The Witch-king, deep down, believes that Eowyn can kill him, thus making it possible for her to do so.

Whenever I read LotR and reach the battle between Eowyn and the Witch-king, I get the impression that the reason why the prophecy loophole works isn’t that the Witch-king is unkillable except for some illogical weakness nobody had thought about yet for misogynistic reasons, but that the Witch-king himself derives so much of his power from the fear he instills in others and from his own belief that he is unkillable. Eowyn doesn’t fear him, because she doesn’t fear death. When she twists his words right back at him, she’s not trying to exploit a prophecy loophole, she’s just making a play on the double meaning of the word «man» with fairly standard battlefield bravado.

But, crucially, it gets the Witch-king wondering if there might be an actual loophole in the prophecy. He starts doubting his own invincibility. There’s no logical reason why a woman might be able to kill him if a man cannot, but prophecies are tricky things. What if …

And this is what undoes him, in the end. This last minute doubt. The Witch-king, deep down, believes that Eowyn can kill him, thus making it possible for her to do so.

The hilarious thing about Sauron is that according to most versions of the legendarium, he was originally, like, a god of planning and logistics, and he initially supported Melkor’s plans for world domination because he regarded the world’s present state of affairs as inefficient and poorly organised. He’s literally what happens when you take the kid who’s fed up at everybody else fucking up their part of the group project and give him phenomenal cosmic power.

elves of arda ✹ gondolindrim ✹ headcanon disclaimer ✹ @gondolinweek

          Itarillë Vanisailë was the daughter of Turukáno Ñolofinwion and Elenwë Calimiel. She was only a child when the Ñoldor marched across the Helcaraxë, a treacherous journey where she lost her mother. Her father, always a serious nér, grew even grimmer after this tragedy and kept Itarillë close to his side.           The arrival of the Noldor in Beleriand allowed for Itarillë to exercise slightly more freedom than she had been allowed on the Ice, though Turukáno still would not allow her to wander far. As she grew into adulthood, Itarillë loved and resented her father in equal measure, for he was the only parent she retained and yet denied her the agency she craved.           Itarillë went with Turukáno to Nevrast, and while she loved the sea she missed the company of those few friends who had not quailed from her father’s intimidating presence, including the young healer Meleth who charmed her to distraction. She missed also her uncle Findekáno, a gay and jovial prince who indulged her more rebellious tendencies and shielded her from Turukáno’s anxiety. Itarillë grew restless in Vinyamar, chafing against her father’s stern watch, and eventually fled secretly to visit her uncle in Dor-lómin (and Meleth, who served in his house) without Turukáno’s leave. Turukáno lost his temper dramatically when he discovered her flight, an incident that resulted in his close friend and cousin Finrod taking him away on a journey to come to terms with his fears and losses.           Turukáno was gone for a year, during which time Itarillë finally felt she could breathe and discover what kind of nís she wanted to be. Finrod arranged for her cousins Orodreth and Tyelperinquar to keep her company while Fingon, Galadriel, and Aredhel kept watch over the band of youths; the cousins engaged in many lighthearted adventures and dramatics, including teasing Orodreth over his infatuation with the Sindarin princess Amathluin, daughter of the rulers of the Mithrim Sindar. Itarillë and Meleth flirted for several months, exchanging a few kisses and love letters before they decided that they were not fated to bond, settling instead into a deep and abiding friendship that would stand the test of time.           When Finrod and Turukáno returned, the distance between father and daughter had mellowed their tempers, and they were reunited with gladness. As Itarillë, or Idril as she became known in Sindarin, came of age, Turukáno gradually relaxed his vigilance over her safety and grew to confide in her of his plans to build a city safe from the dangers of Beleriand. Idril proved an invaluable counselor as he began work on Ondolindë’s construction, and Turukáno proved his trust in her by granting her a noble House of her own once they retreated into the city’s walls.           In the safety of Tumladen, Idril reassumed her Quenya name, and was known both as the Princess of Ondolindë and the Lady of the House of the Wing. She took this symbol from the swans she had loved in Vinyamar, having learned their language from her kinswoman Galadriel, originally of the Teleri of Alqualondë. Among the folk of the Wing were Itarillë’s friend Meleth and her house-carl Hendor, a footman she had befriended during her year in Fingon’s court.           Itarillë was a skilled dancer, both as a solo performer and with her friend Meleth as a partner, and for this and her habit of walking about the streets of Ondolindë unshod, she earned the epessë Telpevontál, or Celebrindal. She was for the most part removed from the politics of her father’s court, for she held more interest in dancing and tending to the palace gardens than quarrelling with her fellow lords. Nonetheless, when she held an opinion on King Turukáno’s policies, she was certain to make her voice known, and all respected her input.           Though Itarillë was not herself a hunter, she would sometimes accompany her aunt Aredhel, Lady of the Tower of Snow, on expeditions outside the city limits. She still yearned for freedom, and though the confinement within the white stone walls of Ondolindë was less stifling for her than it was for her aunt she wished to breathe the open air and have space to herself from time to time. When Aredhel left Gondolin to visit Fingon in Dor-lómin, Itarillë half-wished to accompany her, but she knew her place was at her father’s side. Upon Aredhel’s disappearance and her later death, Itarillë was deeply grieved, for she had loved her aunt dearly.           Though Aredhel perished, her son lived, though Itarillë knew not what to make of Maeglin Lómion, the cousin she never expected to have. His apparent apathy upon the execution of his father unsettled her, and though she was naturally sympathetic to a young ellon so cruelly orphaned his oddness made her hesitate to befriend him. It helped not at all that he seemed to shy away from her, even as he grew more confident in his position as the King’s nephew and revealed a more charming and charismatic side to the people of Gondolin.           Penlod, the Lairde of both the Pillar and the Tower of Snow after Aredhel’s demise, would still at times invite Itarillë to accompany them on hunts outside of Ondolindë. On one such occasion, Penlod also extended the invitation to Maeglin, and he eagerly accepted the chance to see some of the outside world. While on this ill-fated expedition, the hunters were attacked by white wolves from the mountains, and Itarillë and Lómion were separated from the rest of the group.           Lómion suffered a great injury in defending Itarillë from the wolves, and Itarillë, who had learned some healing from Meleth, insisted on treating his wounds. When conventional methods did little to staunch the bleeding, she insisted on Singing the wound closed despite Lómion’s great reluctance. Itarillë and Lómion both were strong in ósanwë, though Itarillë’s talent lay in perceiving the minds of others and Lómion’s in shielding his mind from any who wished to peer into his thoughts; Itarillë had long been curious—and, admittedly, a little suspicious—as to what lay hidden in her cousin’s heart.           As she Sang healing into Lómion’s hröa, their fëar mingled and Itarillë was shocked to discover that Lómion’s secret was his infatuation with her despite their close kinship, now rising to the surface of his thoughts. Astonished and not a little bit horrified, Itarillë faltered, retreating from his mind and succeeding only in making his injury worse. Luckily, they were recovered by Penlod soon after, and Maeglin was tended to by more experienced healers, but the incident deeply affected both cousins. They never spoke of it again, and Itarillë distanced herself from Maeglin more than she had already, engendering further bitterness between them.           When Turukáno marched with ten thousand soldiers to fight in the Fifth Battle, he first asked Maeglin to act as regent in absence, but he insisted on accompanying the King to war. Privately, Itarillë was glad to see him gone, for she trusted her cousin less with every passing year and did not wish to leave Ondolindë in his hands. Indeed, she was offended that her father had gone to him first with this request, and offered the regency to her only after Maeglin had refused. Nevertheless, when the warriors departed, it was Itarillë who ruled the city until the King’s return.           Not long after the disaster of the Nírnaeth Arnœdiad and her father’s ascension to High King of the Noldor, a Man arrived in Gondolin with a message from Ulmo. This was Tuor, son of Huor who had dwelt a year in Ondolindë as a child, and Itarillë was fascinated by the noble bearing and easy charm about him almost as much as she was troubled by Turukáno’s refusal to heed Ulmo’s ominous warning.           Itarillë befriended Tuor, and when Turukáno—encouraged by Maeglin—dismissed her counsel again and again, she and her new companion began to work together on a secret tunnel out of the city and into the mountains. As their collaboration progressed, Itarillë found herself growing deeply fond of Tuor, and gladly accepted his advances when he requested to court her.           At first Turukáno hesitated to see their love developing, but he recalled the last words of Huor his friend: “From you and from me a new star shall arise.” Meditating on this prophecy, he at last agreed to Tuor’s proposal of marriage, giving him the green stone known as the Elessar, once a symbol of his brother’s marriage, to his future law-son as a token of approval. Tuor took the stone and commissioned the smith Enerdhil of the Hammer of Wrath to restore it to its former glory and set it into a necklace he gave as a wedding gift to Itarillë. Tuor joined his wife as the leader of her House of the Wing; in only a year’s time, their son Eärendil Ardamírë was born.           Itarillë’s suspicion of Maeglin only grew in these years, for her cousin made no secret of his distrust and jealousy of Tuor. He gifted little Eärendil a small coat made of mithril, and while she was not so foolish as to deny such a precious gift, she resolved to watch him ever more closely. In Eärendil’s sixth year, Maeglin delved deep into the mines of Anghabar for longer than he ever had before, and Itarillë guessed he was preparing for some twisted scheme.           When at last Maeglin returned to Ondolindë, he was even grimmer and harried than usual; he would often approach Itarillë in private and attempt to speak to her, but his words would die in his throat and he would flee into the darkness. Itarillë confided her worries to Tuor, and her husband thereafter made an effort to remain by her side as often as he could. Shortly before the celebration of Tarnin Austa, Maeglin for the last time caught Itarillë on her own, insisting she take as a gift a curious dagger that would glow should the Enemy come near. Deeply troubled by this veiled threat, Itarillë set aside the blade and never used it, fearing it was somehow cursed.           At last the dreadful doom for which Tuor and Itarillë had long been preparing came to pass, for on the morn of Tarnin Austa the armies of Morgoth attacked Gondolin and its great Fall began. Once more Tuor and Itarillë begged Turukáno to flee the city, but at Maeglin’s urging he instead chose to fight and attempt to hold the city. Itarillë left at once to prepare her secret way, knowing that the hidden kingdom would fall and she would need to lead its survivors to safety, while Tuor reluctantly rallied the House of the Wing to arms.           As Itarillë made her way to her tunnel with Eärendil, she was accosted by Maeglin, whose mental defenses were now tattered and torn. Seeing clearly now that he had betrayed them, Itarillë attempted to fight him off, but with a few of his folk to aid him he captured her and dragged her to the cliffside. Raving and mad, Maeglin ranted that Morgoth’s victory was inevitable and it would be a kinder fate for them all to die at his hands than be tortured by the Enemy’s servants; he seized Eärendil and would have thrown him off the walls of the city had Itarillë not resisted him. He sneered at her for forgetting the blade he gave her, and in a moment of desperation their minds touched briefly one last time.           In that moment Tuor arrived, rushing to the defense of his wife and child. Maeglin swung his blade wildly, striking little Eärendil, but his blow was in vain for the child wore the mithril coat he himself had crafted. Swiftly, Tuor broke Maeglin’s arm, recovered Eärendil, and as soon as Itarillë had the boy safely in her arms he pressed Maeglin to the edge of Caragdûr and shoved him off the edge. Thus fell Maeglin, dying the same death as his father—but Itarillë was reeling, for in their very last moment of contact Maeglin had bared his soul to her entirely, revealing that his treachery had been coerced and that he was under a spell of Morgoth, and that he had been attempting to warn her of the attack for months. It was not enough to make up for the death and destruction and doom, but Itarillë could not find it in her heart to be glad that he was dead.           Yet there was no time to process her roiling emotions, for the battle raged on. Itarillë resumed her efforts to usher the commonfolk of Ondolindë into her tunnel, and Tuor led his warriors back into the fray, leaving his friend Voronwë to guard his family. Tuor forced his way to the battle at the gate, fighting alongside Ecthelion of the Fountain, where he slew three orc-lords and five Balrogs. He was forced to retreat when the walls fell and Ecthelion was injured, and the Fountain and the Wing fell back to the Square of the King, joined by the Tree on their journey. There a bitter last stand was made, in which Ecthelion perished killing Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, and at last Turukáno saw that Gondolin was indeed fallen. He ordered Tuor to lead the retreat of those who yet lived, though despite Tuor’s pleading he refused to flee himself.           Tuor and Itarillë led the surviving exiles through their secret way, giving charge of little Eärendil to Hendor, Meleth, and Voronwë while they ensured the safety of their people. As they fled into the mountains and the city crumbled behind them, the refugees were attacked once more by a Balrog, and were saved only by the intervention of the Eagles and by the valiance of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, who was dragged to his death by the demon he slew.           Idril and Tuor led the Gondolindrim on a long and winding journey to the Havens of Sirion, and after seeing their son married, departed out to Sea in search of Valinor where Idril had been born. There is more to their tale, and though it is filled with great sorrow it concludes in joy and family reunited against all odds, for though Arda was Marred it shall not be so forever.

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 (!) 

So I was doing some thinking on the Huge Spiders that haunt Greenwood and I had some THOUGHTS about how it might affect the ecosystem of the forest. Now, these thoughts are sort of based on two main assumptions. 

One - That the spiders either grew larger and larger over a steady period of time OR 

Two - They didn’t wipe out the original habitat and ecosystems to the point of all other animals dying or being driven out / eaten and allowed time for change and adaptation. 

There are several animals that regularly eat spiders in normal settings and ecosystems including but not limited to: Other Spiders, Wasps, Reptiles, Amphibians, Praying Mantis’, Scorpions, and Birds. 

When a certain part of an ecosystem begins to change dramatically the rest of it is sort of forced to change along with it, or die out. And I think that Greenwood chose to change along with the Spiders. That as the Spiders grew, so did the creatures that hunted them. 

So not only does Greenwood have unnaturally large Spiders, they have huge Wasps flying around through their tree’s. Each wing is nearly the length of a fully grown Silvan, and their stingers the size of a leg. You can hear them buzzing from miles away but they’re almost impossible to see until they're right upon you. Their nests no longer hang from the trees as they are too heavy, but fill entire meadows bigger than a human's house. 

Lizards and other reptiles skitter along the ground or across thick branches. As silent as ever but each one capable of killing or at the very least putting up a damn good fight against a spider. They grow more teeth, or become venoms as a self defense. Snapping turtles lurk in the riverbeds, large enough to snap several elves in half if it so wished. Waiting, lurking, always ready to snap at the next thing to wander by. 

Cunning birds grew in size to accommodate the extra muscle needed to power they're powerful thick beaks, able to peck through a spider's shell with one go. Or snap a leg off with ease. Smaller birds linger around these larger one’s, each one being elected the ‘ruler’ of part of the forest. Gone are the days where songbirds ruled the canopies, and here are the days ruled by lightning fast hunters, each beak thicker than the bark on the three’s or the weight of a door. 

Beetles large enough to ride and pull carts scuttle around too. Their exoskeleton is almost more sturdy than metal and their blood contains anti-venom components that keep them moving even after they’ve been stung or bitten by other animals. Their heads seem to have helmets now, and their tunnels underneath the forest rumble with their movements. 

Other creatures have to get bigger too, or become meaner. Harder to kill. Fish grow in size to become more difficult for birds to find, growing teeth of their own and a taste of any flesh that comes too close to their waters edge or passes too slowly over their waters. 

The wolves get taller, become faster runners with wide jaws and better muscled to clamp them down. Deer horns begin to stay year round, more pointed than seen anywhere else so serve as self defense. 

Greenwood is not a place of huge spiders. Greenwood is a place of huge, terrifying, and weird creatures.  The kind that should only find existence in nightmares, the kind that should never exist. The kind that even Eru would cringe when gazing upon them. 

What I find interesting about Boromir being the first of the fellowship to succumb to the ring is that it wasn't because he was evil or less pure of heart than the others, but because he didn't truly believe the ring was evil or that it answered only to Sauron, he thought he could use it make it answer to him. It was only after he tried to take it from Frodo that he realized he was wrong.

I think one of Turgon's weakness and greatness is that he loves too deeply. He doesn't have many who he deems "close," but once he accepts someone inside his boundaries, they become "his people," someone who he carves a part of his mind for. And when he loses them, his grief is too great; so much that sometimes it will clouds his reasons. (This also applies for inanimate objects)

When Elenwe dies, Turgon forms a great hate towards the Feanorians (totally understandable) - his love for her hurts so much that he has to channel it into another emotion; and I think his hate was the answer. Likewise, when Aredhel was killed by Eol, Turgon executes Eol, ignoring Aredhel's last plea to show him mercy. Losing a loved one to Turgon leaves him... more violent, I should say.

And I think that Turgon's love and guilt towards Aredhel was passed on to her son Maeglin; it was the partial reason as to why in the later years Turgon came to favor his nephew's council more so than his daughter's. This needless to say did not work so well for Gondolin. (you should always listen to Idril) As for Gondolin, he loved it too greatly. He did not heed Ulmo's counsel till late. Thus his love for it drove its destruction.

Of course this is not 100% negative; if you love someone/something like that, they tend to be loyal back to you - so maybe that's why so many followed him to Gondolin; him, a secondborn son under an already existing great king. Think of Glorfindel and Ecthelion, all the mighty names and remember that they followed him into unknown lands for a secret city. And he was not High King then.

If you allow me to add to your Celebrimbor post... I think something that gets underestimate in just how effective Annatar was as a disguise is the fact that in any other occasion in which we see Sauron being his manipulative lying bastard self, he is up against people who EXPECT him to be just that. Clear example is in Numenor, where he has to start from the position of "dangerous captive enemy". But as Annatar, he starts as a blank slate, only thing going against him is a general mistrust in Demigods Walking Out Of The Woods. So I imagine him just starting by being nice, and observing, and then morphing his all mask in the perfect tool to manipulate Celebrimbor. This isn't a question of being stupid, it's a very experienced manipulator making himself into the perfect disguise (probably even including enough defects not to be TOO perfect). Incidentally, i also headcanon this as the reason why everybody else (Gil-Galad, galadriel...) mistrust him immediately: the disguise is tailor made to bypass all the defences of one specific person, cannot be one size fits all. So, yeah, our Feanorian boy is everything but stupid for not managing to see what is going on, and it's actually impressive he eventually manages to catch up with enough to decide to make the three in secret...

You are totally welcome to add anon!! 

ajfsjfd anon I just love this SO much, I don’t know where to start. Especially the part about Galadriel and Gil-Galad because I think you are so right. Annatar doesn’t need to fool them in the way he has to fool Celebrimbor. They can be suspicious, it won’t ruin his plan. 

And I completely agree. I love that you bring up Númenor because it is an excellent example of Mairon being Mairon since that is who he is supposed to be as you said. 

Anon everything you said here, I agree with so much. Especially the part about Annatar’s beginnings. He has to gain Celebrimbor’s trust so of course he’s going to be tailor-made to be someone who can be friends with Celebrimbor. I also don’t believe there is an exact date for this (please correct me if there is) but I can’t help but wonder if Celebrimbor had recently (recently for an elf) lost Narvi. I see them as being incredibly good friends and I think it would seriously hurt him, leaving him in a state of vulnerability. Annatar fills that void. Not completely, he’s not Narvi, but it’s something that soothes the rough edges and makes him feel less empty inside. 

But yes, Annatar is honestly a tribute to Mairon’s genius. It’s his greatest scheme. However, Celebrimbor, like you said, was still too smart for him in the end. Or smart enough. Either way, Annatar isn’t able to get what he wants and Celebrimbor has one small victory in the end. 

I just love the way you summarize all of this since I think it hits the nail on the head for all of this. Thank you so much for sharing!

Please consider: If Tolkien wasn't a coward Feanor would have been female and it would have been way cooler. a) Gives some real weight to the idea that Feanor was worried the crown would go to one of Finwe's other kids. b) More ladies in Tolkien, always a plus. c) You'd better believe Feanor's the greatest craftsperson of the Noldor- she made 7 of them! (Also the sheer drama of newly single mum Feanor and her 7 boys in Middle Earth) d) Silmarils as kids2.0 e) Blacksmith lady hot

Lady Feanor would indeed be awesome. The historical part of my brain can't help but think that critics of the time would have unfortunately interpreted ambitious kick butt single mom Feanor as a prime example of the "monstrous woman" type, ala Medea or something, who "got what was coming to her" in the end, so in a way I'm glad that the Prof. decided to write Feanor as a man so that we didn't have to deal with that nonsense.

I can't help but wonder if he'd lived at a later date if he might have considered female Feanor, I mean, this is a man who took one look at one is Shakespeare's most famous plays and said, "the answer to the prophesy is a C-section?? Booooo! Macbeth should have been killed by a woman! (And also the trees should have actually come alive)" and "its bogus that Orpheus turned around after all that and Eurydice had to die! Rip to them but if i were trapped in the underworld my wife would be different!"

And then proceeded to write his own genderbent fix it fic of both of those perennial works x)

So yeah, I think if the character had come into his head as female then Tolkien would have 100% been down with it