So This Is Your Friendly Reminder That A Certain Heroic Part Of Sam’s And Fingon’s Narratives Are

Caranthir

for @feanorianweek day 4: Caranthir

“Gil Galad is Fingon’s son” “Gil Galad is Angrod’s son” WRONG

Gil Galad is a random orphan Fingon saw one day and went, that looks vaguely son shaped, so he just started raising him as his heir, while refusing to answer any questions about where he came from which led to multiple interactions that went as followed

Courtier: “But high king who’s son is that”

Fingon: “What a silly question he’s mine clearly I gave birth to him”

The same poor fool. “Forgive me high king who’s his… ummmm… father?”

The literal high king of the Noldor: *Scandalized gasp* “how DARE you ask me that”

Crablor giving autographs for @thescrapwitch, inspired by the concluding scene of her amazing fic Little Crab on the Big Stage. If you haven't already, go read it, it's one of my favourites!

this is a small comic idea i had about maedhros and fingon as kids and i rly wanted to draw it out! i think that is fingon the oldest of fingolfin/finarfin’s kids and thus the only one of the bunch for a while, so it was interesting to think that fingolfin would initially tell him to stay away from uncle feanor’s boys before loosening up in later years

but srsly tho i love the relationships that finwe’s grandkids have with each other so i wanna do more exploring of that! i didnt know if i should post the comic one panel at a time and decided to do it all at once, so i hope it doesn’t look too convoluted now that it’s posted 😬 

BONUS: returning to fingolfin + a pretty chill anaire

i’ve started planning some similar comics about maglor and elrond, or maedhros in thangorodrim, so if there’s any you think i should do first feel free to suggest! 

Oh. OH.

“It's not a code,” said Lindir. He clutched the stones tight in his hands. “They’re mine, not the orcs. I hid them inside my robes so that no one would take them away. They’re my - my family.”

“Family?” repeated Lord Maedhros.

Lindir laid the stones out, taking comfort in the pattern. “Like this,” he said. “It always has to be like this. No - no you’re not looking at it the right way.” He tugged at Lord Maedhros’ metal hand so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. “See? Now they’re in the right order.”

“What does it mean?”

Could he explain? It became so muddled in his head that putting it to words felt impossible. Lindir would try. Maybe, if he did a good enough job, they would let him keep his stones and not hurt him. He was so tired of being hurt.

“This one goes first,” he said, pointing to the red pebble, “because it's the biggest. The oldest. Then - ” he moved past the gap to point at the next one “ - this one, which is white like the - like the moon. Then this one with its dark spot in the centre and then this one with the little iron flakes that make it shine and these two, which are stuck together. The littlest that are two-in-one must always go last. That’s important. They can’t be put in any other order.”

“And here?” There was an odd note in Lord Maedhros’ voice. A slight waver of pain beneath the gentle calm. “You’ve left a space between the first two stones. What goes between them?”

“There has to be a space.” Lindir twisted his hands. The light inside his head hurt, something crooked pressing down down down against it, threatening to break him all over again. “There has to be. Always. I - I don’t know - I lost - something else goes there. I lost it. It flew away. But I have to leave a space.” He started to shake. “Please don’t take them. They’re my family. I have to protect them. Please, please, don’t take them away.”

“I won’t,” said Lord Maedhros. The odd note had grown stronger. Lindir glanced up to see that the towering Fëanorian leader had turned his face away, the bright light making it look like something wet glittered on his face. “I promise you, Laurë. No one will ever separate you from your family again.”

Nobody: *nothing*

Túrin Woodwose Neithan Gorthol Agarwaen son of Úmarth Adanedhel Mormegil Turambar Dagnir Glaurunga Naeramarth: "New name, new me!"

Fingon.

Thinking about Fingon all day long because he sang in defiance, your honor, and resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, and he won great praise and then in sorrow took the lordship of the house of Fingolfin. A shadow of doubt fell upon his heart, and even still, his heart was uplifted, and he shouted aloud: ‘Utúlie’n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie’n aurë! He sought not his own, neither power nor glory, and death was his reward.

What am I to do with this guy.

Well hello, Mr hair commander 😌

The Silmarillion according to someone who has never read it but only picked up bits and pieces from the tumblr fandom. For shits and giggles! 

Bonus:

OG Art by choistar