Laughs because that was maybe my first or second Silm post, along with a defense of Indis and ‘so y’all wondered what happened to these precious Easterlings too, am I right?’
Like give me my monogrammed Mama Seagull jacket
Laughs because that was maybe my first or second Silm post, along with a defense of Indis and ‘so y’all wondered what happened to these precious Easterlings too, am I right?’
Like give me my monogrammed Mama Seagull jacket
strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree
Largest population in Númenor are the Hadorin descendants (or as I strongly believe, the larger population is actually at least one-quarter to three-quarters Easterling w/ a Hadorin mother or grandmother). Then Haladin, then Bëor. Even with all those Hador blondes, brown and black are dominant traits – there are far more tribal cousins to the Hador with light hair in Middle-earth. Now that Bëorian dark black hair is brought (back) in with Erendis, and with the Dunedain look by the late Second Age and into the Third Age so firmly black hair and grey eyes, so it’s very hard for me to remember that blonde hair is a possible, let alone common, look for the Númenóreans. (And to be honest, yes yes Mediterranean/Egyptian for Númenor prob most accurate, but I am going to think Mexico too). But as I don’t have a firm image for Tar-Míriel -except please no silver hair-, I am fine with either blonde or black.
strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree
Cue Marge Simpson gif
Ooooh, good question.
Okay, so The Brides of Death/Gift of Men is no longer even my second most popular via hits- if still by kudos, but I am proud of how it is -I think- my first breakout fic, got fanart and recs, for a single sitting the writing is still one of my best- plotting structure and otherwise. Howl, its quasi-sequel, is a weaker fic but it has zero elves, of which I am proud. Of the Beren’s Band of the Red Hand, I’m proud of fleshing out these near textual ghosts and really highlighting underutilized areas, but Release from Bondage is I think the strongest. It really goes for tying together the Silm from a pov angle that is both unique and yet natural, that I could really get the fusion up to using several lines and yet have those ASoIaF seamlessly integrated. And it’s a multi-chaptered long fic and a slow-burn romance. The proper Tol-in-Gaurhoth fics I’m most proud of are Arodreth, Heledir, and Consael’s, and maybe Ethir. Bân I think the writing is weaker, maybe just because I struggled for so long on that one and it is so long, too long, for readers, but as a fusion complete with recontextualizing the original FFVII:CC plot and lines to fit the Silm and for just how much world-building I could do and canon tidbits to use, I am most proud.
Of Ingwë Ingweron just for manhandling readers into going “Vanyar! Fancinating! Ingwë is a dimensional character! Prehistoric elves! Valar as otherworldly but not creepy! Vanyar!”
As a kid I would bite my straws in the process and get really annoyed (too thick milkshakes a terrible offender), so I try to never do so, as it disrupts the texture of the straw and that’s irritating.
Aie- what humor is always consistent for me? Some dry and black humor, some slapstick- I can’t do cringe humor. I’m trying to think of what movies or books always make me laugh- I don’t actually like straight comedy flicks (I loathed Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, but I will coerce middle schoolers into appreciating the cult classic that is The Princess Bride. And I love the running gags in the Belisarius series, hence why I re-read it so often, but the Empire of Man/Prince Roger series is the one that will always make me laugh)
If I’m still on “Of Ingwë”, a confession then – I don’t know where I should end it. But if I do go all the way to the founding of Valmar instead of splitting it into sequels, there is this line from close to that ending:
Mahtamë came out onto the field, her arms uncovered. The silvery lacework of scars still webbed across them, fainter perhaps, and matched the dress she wore, which was gifted from the Valie Estë, a garment soft and grey, floating like mist and trimmed in lace.
I’m at a stalled period on my projects- have more than one in a holding pattern- but let’s go with Of Ingwë :
The intentions of the unfathomable Eru Ilúvatar are inscrutable even to the godly powers that served His purpose in forming this world, giving shape and substance to this planet upon which Eru now focuses, His omnipotent attention concentrating on a finite point, a seemingly inconsequential location. It is the shoreline of a vast saline lake, one whose dimensions and water volume would qualify it for the moniker of inland sea. Eru Ilúvatar sings music into the repetitive sounds of the lapping waves against that muddy shoreline. In that gentle wash, silt is eroded away, and the lake water begins to pull away – as tides will eventually do, when the moon is created.
Slowly, the new creations are revealed.
Six long inert shapes lie in the mud. There is no moon to illuminate their features, only dim starlight. Bodies they are, the First Children of Eru Ilúvatar, and the Creator of Everything breathes out, and the sound of this exhale awakens the elves.
Barahir falls in love with her when they are both ten, and she shows up for beginning lessons on how to hold a shield in a tunic that is too small over a pair of too-big trousers stuffed into the tops of her boots and rolled thrice at the waist as to not fall off her skinny hips. She brings her own shield, painted bright green. Lessons on holding sticks are saved until next month’s instruction, and they must train for at least one full planting season before sticks are exchanged for dull pieces of metal. Barahir doesn’t realize what he feels for Emeldir is love until years later as she holds a green shield above his body to protect him from arrows, his own shield shattered at their feet. “We were taught to use our shield to protect our heart,” she tells him later. “That is exactly what I was doing.”
Barahir sulks off into the woods to find a moss-covered stone to sit on and attempt to compose heartfelt love songs to match the suave poetry of how Emeldir declared her feelings. Eventually he gives up and trudges back to her house, feeling as if he had returned to the awkward days when his beard first grew in. She meets his eyes with the same cool aplomb he envies and admires, and for a second Barahir worries he misunderstood her declaration. “Dagnir is leading a party down into the plains to hunt for enemy spies. You are the first warrior I want by my side,” he tells her. Emeldir nods. Then, before his courage deserts him, Barahir blurts out. “I want to fight by your side.”
Emeldir blinks slowly. “You said that.”
“I mean it! I mean, what I also meant was I want to be by your side. Always. I love you. I think I always have.”
Emeldir thinks he is ridiculous, and stubborn, and oblivious, and beloved.
Haleth is Haldad’s daughter, and though circumstances force her to fulfill the role of chieftain that her brother was expected to fill, she does so as herself and not as her brother. Her people are not averse to the idea of a woman leading them in all things, even in battle – the daughters that guard their chieftain with their great axes and thick boar-skin armor are proof of that. But Haleth dresses as a woman of her people, needs not wear a man’s grab to be taken seriously, and enjoys fine jewelry and clothes. Not too fine- her people are woodsmen and practical. But they are not poor cousins- Haleth with her force of will, she will ensure that they are never destitute and not seen as such on the political stage of Beleriand. Gold twists around her neck, and electrum, and far more precious and prestigious beads of coral traded from the Grey Elves. She has a fine gown made of fabric gifted to her from the hands of Queen Melian herself, a hounds-tooth silk weave of black and white. Many of Haleth’s gowns and cloaks are simple checkered patterns, the trademark of her people. She knows thus this fabric was crafted especially to please their new allies in Brethil- and also to suit the Haladrim tastes, the Elven Queen sent fabric and not a full gown. Haleth, busy with the duties of leading her people, did not sew the gown. Other articles of clothing she did, and the task of re-hemming her nephew’s clothing as the teenage boy grew she allotted to herself as the proper duty of an aunt, but those were garments for work and winter when the snow fell and only family. Queenly fabric needed the most skilled needles.
The cut of Haleth’s tunics and gowns are not like those of the other tribes. For example, sleeves are very wide at the armholes and taper tight to the wrist. Over-gowns, if worn, are left open at the sides and only pinned at the shoulders. Such pairs of shoulder broaches Haleth has a’plenty, and she will be buried in the Lady-barrow with her best set, which look like a cluster of acorns and oak leaves. She cinches the gown with a wide belt embroidered in bright colors and patterns. Their embroidery is another element that sets them apart from their cousins. The simple two-tone or black-work patterns of the Bëorians look juvenile next to those of the Haladim, though it is far more common to find bands of embroidery on Bëorian and Haradim blouses, vests, and aprons. Traders travel to the forest of Brethil to buy the masterworks to sell back to other Edain. Fabric sits in gentle folds high on her chest, nearly hiding the strings of amber beads. More amber twists in the cords that hold the simple diadem of her formal chieftain’s grab. She only bothers to wear it when facing guests, perched on a tree stump outside her house, her plain and thick leather shoes not hidden by the hem of her bold patterned gown, a rustic counterpoint to the finery around her weather-worn face. It is not a beautiful face, but with strong features and an even stronger intelligence and will that animate that face, no one who meets Haleth comes away with the impression of coarseness or ugliness. With a huff, Chief Haleth extends a hand in greeting, and around her wrist a bracelet of amateurishly carved boar-teeth beads rattles. Haldar made them for her, decades ago. She will trade no finery for them- not even a Silmaril.
rencat replied to your post “Send me any number 1-50 and I’ll answer with a factoid or expanded…”
42
This is a short one, and when I am forced to pick my absolute favorite Silm Fan Fic that I’ve written, this is the one that I usually want to answer – or at least place it in the top five. Partially it is because it is short but does not need to be any longer or any accompanying story. And for all that it half-hinges on personal head-canons and interest in a character that is solely a name in a footnote of a supplementary text (Elmo), the meat of it is canon and the relationship between two characters that are of central importance to The Silmarilion and even during a key moment in the text. This isn’t me playing around in the margins, but having the confidence to write under the spotlight of center stage.
…I will have to check, but this might count as the first fic I wrote with Beren.
Change-of-heart where the in-law goes from hostile to begrudging to this moment where it is full acceptance – that is a story that we as humans deeply approve of, so no wonder I love it and want to celebrate it.
Commentary notes:
Behind them are the howls of the Great Wolf and Hound, trumpeting the echo of the wars of the Valar, the titanic struggle from before the mighty spirits’ entry into Arda, and it is nothing but noise.
I was tempted to add a hyphen or italicize or something to hammer the clean break of the shift in tone and focus, this grand mythic practically cosmic epic fight in the background- and that it is dismissed to the background because that’s not the focus. The focus is this quiet gesture and a man’s emotions.
The last line I switched from Elu to Elwë (and was very tempted to make it Elwê), because it’s a neon flashing sign that in that moment, he wasn’t reacting as King Elu Thingol with a few millennia of experience, but as the young man barely reaching adulthood scolding his family.
…I can write Elu the oldest sibling of three easier than Elu the King.