Story notes:

Elwing during the days she’s with her Falmari relatives while Earendil is campaigning for the War of Wrath to start hears that Eluenyanië/Eluearyon (fix name) has recently be released from Mandos and how happy Olwë’s family is to have all this family returning. Elwing does the quick mental translation to “Elu’s Remembrance” – one of my brother’s has been reborn and is now an adult? living here? getting very nervous but ecstatic to reunite with one of her big brothers she lost as a toddler. But when she finds him, looks at him, there’s no recognition on either end. She knows on her part it’s the unfortunate fact of being parted so young. Eventually he recognizes what the mistake is and clears it up- he is Olwë’s son, Eárwen’s older brother. When his parents arrived in Aman, they thought Uncle Elwë, Olwë’s older brother and senior king and the prophet who had led them (but not the final steps to see it) to the Promised Land, was lost to them forever. So Olwë named his elder son in memory and honor of their lost leader, and because Eluenyalië reminded them of Elwë in looks. Eluenyalië isn’t so sure if he looks so much like this person he never saw but who was constantly compared to and held up as this distantly recalled shining figure (and what to know who most idealized this perfect tragically-lost Elwë? Finwë, duh.) Asks Elwing. She admits she only met her grandfather a few times as an infant; she can’t say what features are a match. Elenyalië remarks that Elwing doesn’t look at all like he thought she might- he assumed and hoped she looked like Elwë. No, she answers, in looks with her dark hair and more Bëorian features, she looks like her grandparents Beren and a little bit Lúthien and therefore Melian. Eluenyalië asks about the brothers Elwing had hoped he had been. “Elurin, Remembrance of Elu. And Elured…Heir of Elu.” Cue then Elwing having to explain that one was given the name in a mix of Sindarin and Taliska, go into the Problem of Ros for the mix of Sindarin and Taliska for Elwing, Elros and Elrond’s names.Finish up the linguistic tangent, Elwing asking about why Eluentalië returned from Mandos. As she guessed, he died during the Kinslaying and Theft of the Swanships. As his father’s heir he had been among their people at the ships trying to calm nerves and reassure people after the Darkening and Fëanor’s attempts at inciting revolt. Trying to convince families it’s safe to be on the mainland, in the city, free to leave the ships, when Fëanor attacks. He leads the waves of defense- brings up that there hadn’t been any violence or fighting in Aman, such a thing was utterly anathema, that they did have small hunting bows for shooting birds that they could use. Another tangent on hunting in Aman- few actually dangerous beasts, need just some meat for the dinner table. That the Noldor hunted birds with falconry as well as bow, which they had learned from the Vanyar. That the Vanyar had mind-speech with their hawks and falcons. Call-forwards are my jam. That Eluenyalië and at least one of his younger brothers died.

You can’t tell me it isn’t canon that Olwë would not have named one of his sons something-something-Elwë and at least one of those sons died at Alqualondë and Olwë was denied his vengeance for his dead family.

Also Finarfin/Earwen because there’s never enough of it

“How is it an insult when your brother calls me your pearl?”

Eärwen pauses her fingers in Finarfin’s hair, the discarded silver comb at her feet and her lover’s head in her lap. “Because pearls start off as irritants inside the shells, and they must be coated smooth. Eventually the oyster turns the evasive grain of sand into a beautiful part of itself.”

“So I am the annoying Noldo grain of sand who you have softened with prettier words and manners until I fit in Alqualondë?”

Eärwen giggles. “And you might dissolve if dunked in vinegar.”

Finarfin twists his neck so he can look up her. “Where would I be immersed in vinegar?”

She runs a hand over his brow, pushing aside the almost iridescent golden hair. “Tirion is full of sour, quarrelsome people who make you unhappy to be around. It is better for you in Alqualondë. You should stay here. You are beautiful here.”

“Because I am with you, and you are more beautiful than any pearl.”

“You coat me with flattery, marilla.”

squirrelwrangler:

heget’s Silmarillion Sigil Set

your daily dose, (12/?)

Disclaimer: Here is a blend of Original Tolkien creations (aka my best efforts at recreating the author’s drawing), modifications on the original, and designs completely from cloth.

Please credit if use.

In order:

Olwë, Eärwen

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  • HERE is the master-list.

Notes:

For the king of the Falmari, the Teleri of Aman, I limited my colors to a sub-palette from this set, which provides most of the trims and building details of my Valinorean houses. Thus the sandy neutrals and watery blues. Olwë has 16 points touching the edges, equal to Finwë. Though early attempts were more wave-like, the design I settled on evokes the compass rose and sand dollar. Eärwen uses the same color scheme, with eight rays reminiscent of Finarfin. The border along the circumference of her circle are a pattern of stylized water lotus and buds.

**Non-Canon Designs, obviously**

laurelsblue:

laurelsblue:

The logistics of the War of Wrath are pretty interesting if you think about them. I was wondering about what exactly the Teleri were doing for those fifty years besides being very bored when I remembered all those refugees on Balar. I’m not sure if Tolkien states exactly how fast Beleriand sunk but I think it was a gradual process throughout the war rather than all at once at the end. So you’ve got a slowly disappearing island and a lot of people who need somewhere to go but the mainland isn’t a safe place and the Teleri have a lot of room on their ships…

Basically, imagine the Teleri and Edain refugees. Generations of them, living and dying on their ships. Water burial becoming a custom because what else can you do. Tiny grubby kids who love the elves and are loved by them despite both thinking they look kind of strange. Elves visiting Numenor and finding descendants of that kid who wouldn’t get out of the crow’s nest (it was one time, please stop telling that story, Lady Earwen).

Followup thought: if the people on Balar moved onto the Teleri’s ships, that means Earwen probably would have met Elrond and Elros.

Imagine her telling them about Elwing and giving them the letter she wrote after the Valar’s wording of the choice gave her hope of their survival. Getting back to Valinor and showing Elwing portraits of them as adults and their reply.

the fic with Earwen and the Telerin women singing :DD

le fic

Eärwen’s head overflows with song, the tunes sloshing around like water in an overfilled bucket, spilling over the sides as droplets of

dripping notes and stray lyrics to soak her thoughts. She carries the songs from the sewing room as she leaves to her next lesson, skipping through hallways of pearl inlays and tiles brightened by red coral while humming and whistling these smattering of melodies. She sings fragments,

unable to hold them all, as she turns each corner, needing to set them free. They snarl and slip through her mind, hopelessly tangled, overlapping like the wake of ships against incoming waves. Half-finished lyrics float into the pale vaulting of Alqualondë’s palace and echo down the passages that glimmer like mother-of-pearl. Faintly the parts blend together, a mermaid’s sweet sorrow intertwined with the call to trim the sails, the chorus to the crab dance against bright rising notes that mimic splashing water, even a short rhyme about ducklings waddling to the shore. Eärwen slips out of the palace and runs down the private pathway to the royal docks still singing, challenging the raucous seagulls to a musical duel as she struggles to remember the last line of her aunt’s shanty. “Up aloft from down below!” she hollers as she hops onto the dock, swinging her arms to mimic the heaving of halyards.