Fire the headcanon – MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive

madtomedgar
replied to your post “admirable-mairon
replied to your post “Hello! If I remember…”

feel free to ignore but i always associated namo more with fungal aspects of decay as death is his wheelhouse and melkor being more about thermodynamics and changing of matter-states. but melkor being the genesis of fertilizer is delightfully ironic.

I quite like that too! I’d love me a mushroomy Námo *3* It’s definitely a property they might share too.

I have definitely written about Melkor teaching the Noldor about thermodynamics, and had Fëanor chip in like “cool story bro I figured out how to make diamonds myself like, last century” and Melkor was “>:U”

misbehavingmaiar:

admirable-mairon
replied to your post “Hello! If I remember correctly after Melkor was released from his…”

Maybe biology? As in how an elf works on the inside which you can’t know unless you’ve opened a couple of them up. I mean – That’s knowledge that should be technically terrifying but also sincerely useful

Holy shit you’re right X’D fuck me, that’s actually perfect. There’s no one to dissect in Aman so if they ever have to do surgery or set a bone or something their medical knowledge is WAY behind their knowledge of say, metallurgy. I mean, they’re immortals who don’t age or get sick except in ~spirit~, so it’d be of limited use in the first place, BUT, hey man, when you break your leg falling off a horse or have a little forge accident, knowing how blood and bones and organs work is probably pretty valuable! 😀 Just don’t ask him how he knows!

“…And this is the liver. It’s probably the tastiest of the organ meats”

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

For that matter, knowledge of decay and decomposition might be something Melkor has a unique handle on that wouldn’t be readily taught elsewhere in Valinor. This might lead to them finding out about, say, fermentation, or fertilizers– both good and useful things!

admirable-mairon
replied to your post “Hello! If I remember correctly after Melkor was released from his…”

Maybe biology? As in how an elf works on the inside which you can’t know unless you’ve opened a couple of them up. I mean – That’s knowledge that should be technically terrifying but also sincerely useful

Holy shit you’re right X’D fuck me, that’s actually perfect. There’s no one to dissect in Aman so if they ever have to do surgery or set a bone or something their medical knowledge is WAY behind their knowledge of say, metallurgy. I mean, they’re immortals who don’t age or get sick except in ~spirit~, so it’d be of limited use in the first place, BUT, hey man, when you break your leg falling off a horse or have a little forge accident, knowing how blood and bones and organs work is probably pretty valuable! 😀 Just don’t ask him how he knows!

“…And this is the liver. It’s probably the tastiest of the organ meats”

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Hello! If I remember correctly after Melkor was released from his imprisonment he was allowed to reside in Valinor under the ‘watchful’ eyes of the Valar. I think it was mentioned somewhere that he did actually impart some of his knowledge to the Elves besides the rumors/whispers he started to sow discontent. After killing the Trees do you think the knowledge Melkor shared was banned somehow?

Good question!

It’s hard to imagine the Valar expressly banning any knowledge, even dangerous knowledge like sword making, but maybe certain trades or lines of inquiry became taboo amongst the Elves, even unlawful. Certainly the Valar wouldn’t stop the Elves from deciding amongst themselves that Melkorish Activities were no longer acceptable.

I’d give my left leg to know what information Tolkien thought Melkor was giving the Elves during that time; my guess is something related to ~the tainted realm of Science oOooOoOooO~ but what variety, I don’t know. They already had Aulë teaching them metalworking and mining and smelting etc., and the rest of the Valar were there to teach their specialties. Melkor’s contribution might have been to explain things in more depth than the other Valar. I could also see him giving more information about the Spring of Arda than his brethren, and spreading a less accepted telling of the Ainulindalë from his perspective– definitely biased, but not without truth. He might just have been teaching them crazy sex positions, who knows. ~~And that is why double-reverse-upside-down-cowgirl is forbidden in Valinor to this day…~~

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS ALL OF THEM :U

Here’s all the Try Muse posts for those interested:

Try: Ungoliant or Orome

Oromë is another one I’m having to write for a project, so I’ll hit up that UUUUUNNNNNGLLLLEEEEESSSSSSS *bew bew bewwwww*

I fucking love Ungles and I’m happy to report that I have some Bonafide Eldritch Headcanons™ about her.

Canon wants us to believe that she’s a corrupted spirit from Ëa who joined Melkor but then fucked off because that’s how spiders do. I AM NOT CONVINCED. You can’t have your “Melkor is the mightiest of the Valar and Valar are exponentially greater in power than Maiar” cake and …. have….a spider eat that cake.

So, in so much as Ainur are beings derived from Eru’s thought, Ungoliant is not a Maia. She’s not a Vala. She’s not one of the Ainur at all. Ungoliant is something Melkor ran into when he was searching the outer darkness for the Secret Fire, which only Illuvatar has. The Void is at least as old as Eru, being timeless. It is vaster than He (if one can even use size as a metric for measuring infinite cosmic entities), though empty. It is the birthplace of all potential, the void that must be in order for things other than it to exist. It is ready to quicken around any particle of matter and form pearls of chaos that expand infinitely and succumb to entropy just as quickly as they form. It is a writhing, frothing, sightless, soundless, Nothing that devours itself in perpetuity.

Melkor was not made of matter when he ventured into the depths of the Void in the beginning, and did not stir the ancient darkness when he passed through it. But he did speak to it– told it about the world that was to be made, of his part in the making of it. And the Void listened in its own fashion, forming around the Idea that had been planted into it and growing. All the Nothing in the universe can fit into the back pocket of a quark, so the resulting consciousness was both very small and very big; just a grain of sand that could expand as much as anything that was put into it. And that Thing waited around in the deeps of the void until Melkor came into the outer darkness a second time–this time pissed off, and nursing a sore cheek from where Tulkas punched him, and he said “hey, want to come fuck things up?” And it said “ssssssss” and crawled up his sleeve.

Now, it may seem irresponsible to bring the sentient equivalent of a black hole into the realm of matter and just let it go hog wild, but Ungles is only as powerful as what you put in her. She devours light and matter and energy and creates darkness and sticky void-webs that eventually sort of clog up her ability to intake more of those things; this is why her dens are isolated wastelands of Scary Shit and darkness, because once she’s devoured everything in the area, nothing else can easily get in, and going OUT takes too much energy for her when she’s starving. So she’s not too much to handle if you’re the mightiest of the Valar, or even a sufficiently powerful Maia or Eruhini.

However, when you let her drink two full trees’ worth of Vala Juice, you’re in for a bad time.

–Just for kicks, here’s a crusty old unfinished story-board experiment of the Tree Incident–

In terms of personality, she’s pretty straightforward; she knows what she wants, she can never have ENOUGH of what she wants, and she doesn’t trust Melkor any more than Melkor trusts her. She’s not especially malicious (except when someone Wrongs Her and then gives her a chance to get even)– just predatory by nature and aware of her own otherness. She’s very intelligent; I imagine she picks things up from whatever she eats, and she’s been around a very long time and eaten a LOT of things. She can feel amusement, anger, anticipation, greed, hunger, interest, wariness, hatred, fear, and possibly even a distant affection for any of her daughters that are strong and clever enough to avoid being eaten by her long enough to grow up and spread to Middle Earth. She’d still eat them if given the chance, and they’d probably eat her if they could figure out how– but that’s just how the spider do.

She also diminishes with time; the more she eats, the more personality and self-awareness she has, and the longer she starves the more she reverts to being a mindless consuming force. She acknowledges a certain affiliation with Melkor– he was the one that facilitated her coming to earth where she could Eat Things in the first place, giving her awareness of the world. But spiders are fairly self sufficient from the get go; she doesn’t need anyone to nurture her or teach her anything, and she doesn’t feel obliged to show continued loyalty to someone just because they seeded her into the universe. Especially not Melkor, who would be the first to say they didn’t owe each other shit for just existing.

She views Melkor as the hand that feeds, and also the hand that forgets to feed her, and sometimes denies food to her even though it promised to feed her, and also the hand that would probably taste ssSSsssooo good if it ever got accidentally stuck in a web.

Try: Finrod or Ecthelion.

Since I’m still figuring out Finrod in a fic, I’ll go with Ecthelion. 🙂

Ecthelion I imagine is a fairly serious and campaign-hardened soldier with a very dedicated battalion serving under him. He is well-liked because he is straightforward, practical, and conscientious of the needs of both his people and their objectives. He has a reputation for bringing back everyone alive, and not elevating himself above the means of his soldiers even though he is a lord.

As warden of the gate he is in a unique position to deal with matters outside and inside of Gondolin, a position demanding discretion as well as unwavering loyalty to the laws of the city; his scouts report all who come near the gate whether they seem innocent or no. He has seen his fair share of spies with friendly faces, and he does not budge for whim or sympathy. He has earned the utmost confidence of king Turgon, and can be trusted with the well-being of Gondolin and its continued secrecy.

He has a somewhat stoic demeanor but he is not without good humor or levity; the reason his folk march to the music of flutes and pipes is because Ecthelion took up the instrument as a hobby (professing himself to be of modest talent even for a beginner) and when his friends and subordinates found this out, they decided to join him with woodwinds of their own as a show of support. Soon they had the equivalent of a marching band that met and practiced in their free time, becoming a beloved mascot for the House of the Fountain.

He is fond of indulging Eärendil, who likes his glittering armor and tasseled cape, but does not let him play with the sword even though Baby Ear promises to keep it in the sheath. He likewise has a warm disposition towards Tuor, who he remembers always as the earnest-faced youth with the touch of Ulmo upon him, standing proudly before him at the gate despite his shackles and road-worn cloak.

He takes a cold but professional stance with Maeglin, who he frequently encounters on the outskirts of the city and the exploring the mountains. The young elf’s propensity for straying dangerously into unprotected territory is a constant source of tension between them– the perimeter is under Ecthelion’s sole authority, but he cannot forbid another Lord to do anything without the approval of the king, and the king is often more lenient with his nephew than perhaps he deserves. He is sympathetic to Maeglin’s troubled circumstances, but is always swift to remind him of the law.

He has a gruff, soldierly friendship with Rog, who he feels a certain solidarity with as another “working” lord. They’ve both seen and experienced the worst of the enemy, and their politics are similar because of it.

And since guarding the retreat of Turgon from the Nirnaeth Arnoediad together, he has had a ~*close*~ friendship with Glorfindel– a captain with perhaps more academic knowledge and less field experience than he at the time of the battle, but no less valor. Glorfindel demonstrated impeccable form, steely discipline, and unexpected hardiness despite his youth that impressed and earned Ecthelion’s loyalty (they are both of balrog-slaying mettle, after all).

The Red Star, the Great Eye, and the Third-Age Astronomer: Theories and Headcanons

The world is bent, the morning star of Eärendil guards the Door of Night, and a red star on the southern horizon shines brighter as the October moon wanes… What happens to the stars of Varda’s heaven now that the earth is globed?

At the top of Barad-dûr, both in its original and reconstructed state, there is an astronomical observatory. The “Great Eye” of Sauron can be two things: it can refer to the power of Sauron’s intense concentration upon the lands of Mordor, sometimes merely the sensation of being watched, and other times manifesting as a physically oppressive or compelling force; and less frequently, when the the winds are right and the smog and volcanic ash clear to allow a rare view of very top of Barad-dûr above the clouds, it can refer to the glinting lens of an enormous telescope.

When his shade is not busy micromanaging the troops, or searching for the One Ring, or haunting the palantir, Sauron is charting stars. Specifically, he is interested in the one red star that is only visible when the light of the star of Eärendil is on the far horizon. The red star is much dimmer than Rothinzil, and when the two share the sky it is scarcely visible. It is considered a bad omen in the western lands, though only the Edain know why– the star of Eärendil and the red star became visible in the heavens at the same moment at the closing of the First Age, one set to guard the other in an asynchronous orbit. They do not call the red star by any other name, but it is written in the annals of old Numenor that this is the last ember of Morgoth, imprisoned in beyond the walls of the world in the timeless Void.

Sauron’s monitoring of the star began in the Second Age. During his reign as god-king of Mordor and Harad, the first citadel of Barad-dûr was not merely a fortress but a grand palace, the seat of power and a repository of wealth and knowledge. A great observatory was built upon its highest tower, accessible to the scholars and astronomers of Harad, whose knowledge of mathematics and astronomy was rivaled only by the star-charters of Numenor. During the Second Age, it seemed to Sauron that there might be a direct path from Numenor into the uttermost West, and beyond it the Door of Night through which his master was banished. Though impossible for one such as him to pass undisturbed into Aman, there might yet be a way to distract the powers that be long enough for a spirit to examine the portal…

But whatever his plans had been for the invasion, the outcome was inconclusive. Numenor and the direct route to the West was destroyed along with Sauron’s body, and shortly after, the observatory at Barad-dûr.

The Third Age progressed for many slow and frustrating centuries before Sauron was able to rebuild some semblance of what was lost to him. Lacking all but a shade of his physical body and much of his native power in his missing Ring, he sulks and plots a long campaign from his tower, alone.

It is during this isolated period of observation and tracking, that he determines there are actually two sets of stars: one set that represents physical suns and planets that appeared after the world was globed, and those of Varda’s heaven as it was in the beginning. These two spheres have a complex, subtle interaction that represents the alignment of the Old Arda and the New. The stars of Varda’s heaven drift and grow dimmer as the Third Age progresses, perhaps due to the waning of the elves.

When the last of the Elves sail into the West, and the Age of Men truly begins, the Straight Road will likely dwindle from existence entirely, untethering Middle Earth from Aman completely. As much as he looks forward to the departure of the Elves, Sauron fears this eventuality; the Elves are the sands in an hourglass that marks the end of his ability to send aid to his Master– if the Straight Road vanishes, so too does his access to the Door of Night.

The celestial spheres do not frequently intersect in his favor; the red star only rarely appears without its guarding satellite while positioned where the Straight Road points to it like the needle of a compass. He does not have his Ring, which he needs in order to have the strength to make a final assault on the West, and there are foes at his very doorstep causing an endless barrage of distractions. But if he could just find his Ring, there might still be a way forward. If he could just focus without interruption for a moment, he could finally thread the eye of the needle, before it shuts closed forever.

Are you still doing character headcanon asks? If so, I’d like to know about the Arien to your Tillybun!

DID SOMEBODY SAY SUNBUNNY?

llololololol I make Joke.

As much as I’d love to have a matching pair of celestial bunnies, I actually owe most of my Arien headcanons to @othombauko, who I don’t even know if they have a tumblr anymore? ;____; They put it into my head that Arien was actually once a legit Maia of Melkor, and in fact Gothmog’s sister, but defected AWAY from his service– because hey, that shit goes both ways. She’s sort of a purified balrog, hallowed by her new employers. I liked the idea so much back in the day that I haven’t quite solidified my own unique headcanons about Arien yet… I’m not sure that the ex-balrog concept would even work with the HCs I’ve got now, but it does fit with the premise I’m working with that Melkor’s original place in the pantheon was similar to the lightbringer, so having fire-related powers as his Maia would be a logical connection. (This is DEFINITELY not a Tolkien-approved headcanon, but hey I’ve got a lot of those, and who’s counting).

Anyway, whatever I decide on, she probably won’t be a bunny. Probably. Except in my heart :’) And Tillybun’s.

Nice blog ya got there! Do you envision Barad-dûr as vaguely ziggurat-like?

Why thank you kindly! ~~THERE IS STILL TIME TO CHANGE YOUR MIND~~

I actually don’t think of Barad-dûr so much as the various Temples of Freedom for ziggurat architecture?

Barad-dûr in its first incarnation I want to be an imposing, well-defended palace (later reconstructions becoming more and more fortress-like) where the god-king/Zîgur of the greater kingdom of Mordor and its satrapies might admit supplicants and hold court.

The Temples of Freedom would have the stair structures leading up to an altar room containing a gold idol of Melkor and a brazier for making burnt and blood offerings. There, a high-priestess would officiate and communicate whatever message was supposedly sent to her from the Giver of Freedom (who dwells in the Void but could be persuaded to inhabit his statues), predicting good or ill fortunes depending on whether the sacrifice was well received.

–In actuality, High-Priestesses in each major temple share a direct connection with the Zîgur (much like the ringwraiths), and report to him what sorts of offerings are made, what confessions are given, what prayers are made and what miracles people are in the market for; that sort of thing. In return they can tailor their “prophecies” and gifts of insight from “Melkor” to suit the daily political needs of the empire.

The lower floors would house other sects of priestesses, whose duties include both Cult of Melkor activities and the inherited functions absorbed from the resident religions of Harad, Khan, and Nurn; these might include planning the calendar year, astronomy, astrology, harvest and weather prediction, population management, marriages, funerals, birth ceremonies, communing with the dead, ghost and demon management, moderate-to-severe exorcisms, as well as organizing religious festivals and public sacrifices. Priestesses are powerful and respected officials who work in close accord with the Zîgur and are effectively a branch of government.

Typically in the regions of Mordor and Harad, the “blood sacrifice” is little more than a ritual prick of the finger for most things, or a slaughtered animal, or sometimes dedicating the execution of a criminal to the Temple if you’re REALLY trying to make a good impression– However, after Sauron’s removal to Numenor, the Temples of Freedom in Numenorian-held cities began to adopt the huge, excessive sanguinary displays of the capital (Sauron aggressively upped the blood-orgy game in Numenor with the intent to destabilize and terrify the populace in a way that he would never do on his home turf). This led to a schism between Numenorian Melkor-worship and Haradrim Melkor-worship, where Numenorian temples changed to accommodate mass public worship and ceremonies led by a high-priest rather than a priestess, who addressed a large congregation and led them in unified prayer and increasing numbers of ritual executions throughout the year. Numenorian style Temples of Freedom therefore abandoned the ziggurat format and adopted buildings closer in style to cathedrals or theaters, while traditional Haradrim Temples retained the step-structure and monastic orders of priestesses, even in the absence of the Zîgur in Mordor.

Thank you for coming to my presentation; if you have any que–OOH OOH WAIT I GOT ONE:

Okay so, a Numenorian supplicant walks into Mordor and he asks a priestess “Where’s the ziggurat?” and she says: “I dunno, I haven’t seen him since Year of the Sun 3261 S.A.!”

—-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Try Fëanor

–My caveat once again is that I owe a long-standing RP partner for permanently influencing my perception of this character and flavoring his personality in my mind.–

Fëanor is an absolutely fascinating character in his own right, but I confess my main concern with writing him lies in understanding the place he holds in the larger narrative. I love speculating interpersonal scenes with him because he influences so many other characters, and he has some of the most hair-raisingly epic dialogue in the whole legendarium– but to do that I feel like it’s important to map out his motivations and the place he holds in the philosophical landscape first.

( I know a lot of ink has been spilled arguing whether or not Fëanor is a Good™ or Bad™ character, and…. look. I stan dark lords. I don’t really have a horse in that race. I care about understanding the motives surrounding him, and what makes him an Interesting character. I just thought I’d put that forward in case anyone was planning on planting a flag in me as part of Team Fëanorian or Team Valar or Team Teleri…. Please don’t ;_; I am but a humble content creator living in the Rhine Valley of the Great Fandom War, I wish to farm my memes in peace.)

ANYWAY: Essay to follow.

Aside from Melkor, Fëanor is THE voice of individualism and exceptionalism in a world whose dominant philosophy is deontological ~~(am I using that right? It’s the Kant one~~). He’s the very definition of a Renaissance Man; a brilliant polymath and believer of the value and agency of individuals, living in a literal theocracy where the gods themselves are a present and real force in everyone’s lives.

The Valar do not acknowledge advancements made by an individual as being the sole property of the individual, because no advancement is made in a vacuum– everything is made possible because of collective effort, or greater harmony; everything finds its source in something higher, all the way up until you reach the Creator: “All things have their uttermost source in [Eru]” – therefore Eru’s will is the universal rule, the source of moral obligation. “Those who will defend authority against rebellion must not themselves rebel” –because defending the natural authority that stems from Eru is a moral imperative, that must be followed even the outcome is bad.

Melkor defies this rule and is punished for it again and again; Aulë defies this rule but repents and is forgiven (it is Aulë who defends Fëanor’s reluctance to hand over the Silmarils, because he is uniquely able to sympathize with the emotional weight of sacrificing one’s own work out of duty); and Fëanor challenges this rule at the feet of the same gods who enforce it.

The way the narrative frames the issue of ownership of the Silmarils is very telling: Fëanor is said to love the Silmarils with a “greedy” love, forgetting “the light within them was not his own”. The presupposition is that his love is greedy because everything, ultimately, belongs to Eru, and anything made with natural resources is held above individual ownership. It is expected that you should create not for one’s self but for the will of Eru– that is what separates Aulë from Melkor in the beginning. It is an unspoken assumption that it is Fëanor’s duty to share his gifts– but he is not forced to do so. His actions are merely frowned upon, up until the moment where he is asked to break the Silmarils for the sake of restoring the Two Trees. And of course he refuses.

Would the Valar have forced him to break the Silmarils then, if Melkor hadn’t stolen them? I don’t know. I think it would probably have gone to trial in the Mahanaxar, and whatever the outcome, it would probably have led to an ultimatum set in law thereafter.

I think Fëanor has a strong case for his refusal, which would likely find support from many elves and maybe some Ainur. He was not the only one in post-unchained-Melkor Aman to develop a sense of private property, but he was the only one to claim exclusive ownership of his craft. (The Teleri equate their Ships with the Silmarils as treasures that cannot be replaced or bought for any price, yet the Ships belong to their people collectively, and they freely attest learning their shipbuilding from the Oarni, Ulmo’s Maiar– this gives them the benefit of propriety. Because they acknowledge their debt to divine provenance, their refusal to give Fëanor use of the ships is not the same as Fëanor’s refusal to render the Silmarils to the Valar, in terms of the value system in-text.)

A case could certainly be made that the light of the Trees was given freely for the benefit of the Elves– there was no condition set upon its use or enjoyment. If that light was NOT given unconditionally, what then is the condition for the use of ALL things made by the Valar? If the condition is that no one may create for private use, why was this condition not made clear earlier, before the elves agreed to come to Aman? Are they or aren’t they free? Was Melkor lying, or stating a truth for his own benefit?

Regardless of good intentions, it WAS the Valar’s decision to bring Melkor to Aman and free him, and it was they who failed to protect the Elves and the Trees. If all duty and moral law come from the Valar, and the Valar are proved fallible, it is an act of SUPREME faith to continue to trust in their authority, and it’s hard to blame the Noldor having their faith shaken. The Valar failed to provide safety in their own home, had their exclusive source of light destroyed, and then they looked to Fëanor to provide the solution by breaking the thing he most treasured. To Fëanor, of course this looks like proof of his least charitable suspicions.

–And I do want to note: the Valar ending up looking so extremely culpable is part of why they hesitate to pursue the Noldor or take immediate action to stem the conflict; the Valar are ALSO shattered by what has happened, their faith shaken. Manwë can’t help but love the elves, and to love this incredible prodigy who burns so brightly; he’s devastated that there is no winning Fëanor back from his rage and guilt and pride. There is nothing Manwë can do that will not appear to confirm his brother’s lies and half-truths, so he holds back, and the tragedy keeps unfolding.

If Fëanor’s rebellion had not escalated after the Darkening, the Valar would probably have had a long and uncomfortable century of subpoenas ahead of them. And that would also have been interesting! But not nearly as interesting as the bloody clusterfuck that happens instead.

—

…But all of that is just floating around nebulously in Meta Space. That isn’t what motivates Fëanor’s character, it just clarifies the environment he’s in.

What motivates him is a delicious mixture of Pride, Conviction, Dedication, Stubbornness, Curiosity, Passion, Outrageously High Standards, A Reasonably Accurate Sense Of His Own Skill And Importance, Entitlement, and Paranoia.

The pride and sense of importance are genuinely well come by; there’s a tangible metric by which to measure Elven Greatness, because spirit is a real and tangible thing for Elves, and Fëanor has enough spirit in him for like ten whole Da Vincis.

His father is a great leader, but his mother was a woman who was as peerless in skill and dedication to her craft as he became. His mother likewise took a strange and tragic road of her own choosing. You cannot forget Miriel when putting together the pieces of Fëanor. She colors his entire world. She’s the first thing lost to him in a land purportedly free of sorrow and death, the first failure of Paradise. “Surely there is healing in Aman?” No. Not for her. She keeps her mysteries, partly because there is so little written about her, but to my imagination this is also because she does not owe us an explanation. You will hold her blameless in this. She will not force herself to feel what she does not feel. She will not stay for you, not for love nor duty. I feel there is more of Miriel in Fëanor than Finwë. I can’t prove it with citations, but it’s something I’ve always held to be true.

In this way, Fëanor comes by his Paranoia honestly as well. Paradise is full of broken promises; immortality is conditional, fealty can be broken, trust betrayed, love replaced. Comfort is fleeting. Safety is an illusion. Everything will be taken from him unless he nails it down himself. The only thing that matters is true loyalty; the loyalty of blood, of immediate kinship. He demands it of his following, and demands it of himself in return. His loyalty does NOT extend to those outside his inner circle, particularly not his half-brothers or their followers.

Curiosity, passion, dedication are the very blood in his veins. His enthusiasm is infectious, but there are few who are privileged enough to share a part of it. Only those closest to him have seen his warmest and most brilliant side, impossible to stand in the glow of and not feel it kindling your own excitement and love. Even outside the scope of his intimacy, it is impossible not to be affected by his charisma, his conviction, his eloquence. His praise is so sparing it is valued greater than diamonds, his professional regard worth spending a lifetime pursing. His scholarship is legendary, but he keeps his own council, and does not reveal his processes to anyone who has not earned his rare approval. He is the greatest mind in Arda. A crown prince, the heir to a divinely chosen king. A paragon, a wonder of the world. …So why shouldn’t value himself and his lineage above those of lesser princes and their followers? He has proven every day of his life that he is greater and more worthy than they. Even the gods covet what he has made– should he think less of his abilities than they? And what are his half-brothers but the product of his father’s compromise, Finwë’s one act of weakness in his grief, an insult to his mother’s memory? A dilution of the perfect union that created him. (Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, and batten on this moor?)

Fëanor does nothing by halves, he runs either hot or cold but never tepid. His intensity is enough to overwhelm all who cannot match it themselves– or those with enough self-assurance and good sense to weather it unfazed. Nerdanel has always seen past the glamor of Fëanor’s conviction to the flesh and blood beneath. She is not intimidated by his moods of roaring fire or crackling ice; she is not swayed passion over reason, not impressed by grandstanding. She respects dedication and skill, but does not put them on a pedestal– she knows that one turns into the other with time. She has her own metrics for measuring success, and her own goals to fulfill– she does not value his over her own. The years that Fëanor lived in harmony with Nerdanel were by far the happiest of his life, the source of much inspiration, and more love.

He loves her. He loves his sons. He loves his father. He loved his mother. He can, at times, bring himself to admit affection for his half-brothers, even respect. He demands much, but he is not by nature cruel. His intensity never gave way to violence before Melkor came to Aman. His pride never led to sedition and mistrust before Melkor came to Aman. God, how infatuated they are with each other. They represent what the other despises most, but the parallels between them are inescapable. Fëanor loathes every false, needy, fawning word that falls from Melkor’s mouth, but those same words echo again and again in his mind, so that in time he forgets their source, finds their message writ clear on the walls around him. Melkor will never forget that he was beaten and dragged from his fortress in chains and imprisoned for four Ages because of these pampered, petted, arrogant, entitled elves– the most arrogant and entitled of which has the GALL to look down on HIM, the Mighty Arising, while his glittering fire sits unassailable in the most beautiful vessels Melkor has ever seen… As soon as they met they were destined for a collision-course with one another, set on mutual destruction no matter what lay between them.

And it’s this stubbornness, the trait he passed down in equal measure to each of his sons, the absolute refusal to admit defeat or back down from impossible odds, the near inability to compromise or turn from a path once begun, that makes Fëanor and his kin impossible to ignore, deadly to underestimate. It is his stubbornness and pride and the very greatness of his conviction that fans his spirit to astonishing heights, burning hotter and brighter than any other flame in Arda, blinding those closest and burning all in its path, until like all flames it consumes its fuel to the last, and goes dark.

Try: Namo because I like your eldrich hcs.

Namo, like the other Fëanturi in my headcanons, has a less organic-looking shape than the Arratar. He and his siblings have very whimsical, almost allegorical forms. His face is mask-like, and he doesn’t have a body so much as robes that fall in the shape of a body. His expression can change but he doesn’t move his mouth when he speaks, and his voice has an echo as though he takes the acoustics of his halls with him wherever he goes.

There’s a common misconception that “Mandos” is both his name and the name of his hall– this is only half true. His name is Námo, and he IS is hall, which is called Mandos. He contains, and exists in, the realm he governs.

He’s really quite pleasant to talk to, if you don’t mind venturing deep into the uncanny valley. He has a strong and uncompromising sense of justice, has pity for those who have suffered but is unwilling to compromise on the laws of his land, unless a greater thread of fate intervenes. He likes formality and logic, and is fond of puzzles and long games of strategy.

His vision of the Theme gave him greater insight into the future of Arda than any of his brethren; but this is of limited use to those in the present. Like the Norse gods knowing the sequence of events of Ragnarök but being unable to avoid it by nature of being gods, the Valar know what will become of themselves and the world during the Dagor-Dagorath. Námo proclaims those Dooms that are necessary to be spoken according to his knowledge of what Must Be, what he saw occurring in the First Music. As with his realm, he exists simultaneously within, and as the embodiment, of Fate; both a participant and its mouthpiece. Yes, he knows it’s confusing. He’s sorry. Would you like a cup of tea? Vaire made it fresh.

Try Saruman the White

OH WE’RE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN TOGETHER CURUMO, YOU SCAMP.

I love Saruman dearly, because he is a Miscreant™.

My headcanons are as follows:

Curumo starts life as one of Aulë’s six highsmiths, who work in the Great Forge under Admirable-One, the forgemaster (aka Mairon). He’s never been totally comfortable with being Daddy’s Second-or-Third-or-Maybe-Fourth Favorite Maia, and when tension starts to break out between Mairon and Aulë, he sees this as an Opportunity to start sucking up to authority by being…. just…. SO obedient and dutiful; not like that bad, naughty, rebellious Mairon with his IDEAS and BAD COMPANY. By the time Mairon does finally leave Aulë, Curumo has positioned himself to take over his duties as Forgemaster. Except, the work on Arda is basically finished by then, and he doesn’t have any especially epic duties to perform, and it’s obvious to everyone that he’s just not the same caliber of Maia, or smith, that Mairon was.

He hates this. so. much. But it’s desperately important to him to seem completely at peace with being left in charge of more menial duties and unglamorous tasks while everyone waits for the Children to appear.

When the Valar move to Aman, they have to build a new Great Forge, and Curumo is ecstatic because finally now maybe he’ll get to oversee something Important. The new Great Forge is mostly an institute of teaching and creating things to aid the elves, so Curumo becomes a mentor of elven smiths rather than a foreman to his fellow Maiar. –This OF COURSE doesn’t annoy him EVEN A LITTLE BIT, that he’s been demoted to teaching Noldor carpenters how to make hinges that don’t squeak. Because he’s SO HAPPY TO HELP and OBEY and SERVE with NO THOUGHT to his own esteem or reputation as an Aulendur. …Also, is it just him, or are some of these Noldor smiths really, really good? like, better than him, maybe. Even though, how could they be HAHA! They’re just. Making new unthought of totally impossible things that even the Valar want. Huh.

But I’m being a little harsh. He does fine! Great, actually! He knows a lot about stuff, maybe not as MUCH as Mairon knew about smithing, but he’s a pretty good teacher! Maybe a little condescending, maybe a little impatient at times, but the elves do learn a lot from him!

It’s a shame that nothing he does really seems to be important or interesting enough for Aulë or the other Valar to notice. Which is weird, because as we’ve noted, he has been THE MOST OBEDIENT, LOYAL, DUTIFUL, HELPFUL, USEFUL, KNOWLEDGABLE MAIA EVER. And he’s VERY well dressed. And SO tidy. And he has THE MOST tools, in mint condition! And he absolutely hasn’t been hoarding everything of Mairon’s that he can get his hands on, or eavesdropping on anyone who mentions him, or constantly comparing himself to him.

After the Silmarils are stolen and the thing with Fëanor blows over, Curumo has whole AGES to be the best and most influential smith in Aman! Almost! Definitely in the top ten! Well, he’s definitely the most important smith, because he’s in charge of so many things. He runs a VERY prestigious Academy of Learned Maiar and elves, where they discuss Theory and Praxis and Engineering. Many of the devices they dream up stay on the drawing board because in Aman there’s not a great deal of need for technological advancement. It’s almost a shame there’s not more use for heavy construction equipment in paradise….

Eventually the Third Age rolls around and with it, the initiative to go into Middle Earth to deal with the problem of Sauron, and oh. my. god. Finally. Finally, they realize– it’s him. It’s always been him. Curumo– the Wise, the White, the Cunning, the MAGNIFICENT; obviously the most suited and well equipped for Leadership! Now he can turn his unparalleled knowledge of other people’s work into social currency!

Finally, it’s his opportunity to show everyone how much better he is than Mairon– who hasn’t been here for more than ten thousand years, but Aulë still sighs and cries about; who gave into Base Temptations and Moral Weakness and left his appointed duties before they’d even begun– Duties SOMEONE had to take over, Duties that SHOULD have brought fame and recognition to those who selflessly championed them, if only everyone wasn’t infatuated with the mere MEMORY of his potential… I’ll show you. I’ll show everyone how much more clever and learned and Admirable I am than you ever were. Then you’ll be so jealous. THEN you’ll have to notice me and tell me how important and smart I am. I’ll learn everything you ever knew and MORE and then you’ll be USELESS and outdated and everyone will thank me for defeating you and bringing about a new golden age of knowledge and industry. Yes… YES!

It’s the recognition he knows he’s always deserved, and he’s just so happy to help.

Try Manwë

This is terrifying because I do actually have to try and write/draw Manwë convincingly for my comic and he’s very intimidating to approach. >m> I’ve been lucky enough to be spoiled by a very good Manwë roleplayer whose interpretations will probably always color my own, so there’s a lot to live up to.

…BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, I will leak this super-secret found-footage blurry-cryptid photo of my Manwë design.

Now, is this just Tilda Swinton in a Bigbird costume? Who’s to say.

____

The thing about Manwë is, he’s doing his best. I really feel for the guy! He’s never been in charge of sentient life before! No one has! It’s hard and he does his best and when his best isn’t enough, things go terribly, terribly wrong and it’s his responsibility to sort it out. And he just wants everyone to be happy. He tries so hard. And people look to him for answers because he is the only one who still sometimes hears the voice of Eru, who is otherwise quiet– but they don’t understand the answers he brings back. “What do you mean, you asked God, and the answer is ‘it’s complicated’??” Yes, sorry. That’s just how it is.

But the other thing about Manwë is that it’s not difficult for him to understand the ineffable. He already grasps the simultaneity of free will and predestination, he has unshakable faith in the Theme because he saw it so much more clearly than anyone else, he trusts in the grace of the One, he loves the individual and the whole, and has no difficulty being in the world but not of it. What he has trouble with is explaining to others what is instinctual for him. If a child asks him “why is there sadness?” and he responds “because of a greater harmony that you will never witness”, it sounds patronizing, cold. But for Manwë it is a self evident truth, and knowing it does not make him less sympathetic to the plight of the living, but what else is there to say? He cannot lie. He doesn’t know how.

Manwë is not easy to relate to. He keeps himself above the world and does not partake of many earthly pleasures except the appreciation of music and natural beauty and the joy of flying. To observe the world is a great pleasure in itself; he watches and listens and loves and understands from this great distance, and he is not lonely, for Varda is as contemplative and far-seeing as he is, and they understand each other perfectly, rejoicing in each other and what they see; but he is often troubled. Manwë has faith in the design of the One, but perhaps less faith in his own completion of that design. So much goes wrong, so many suffer, as a direct result of him trying to do good. He knows he cannot see everything, that he is fallible. Every decision he makes has the potential to harm, including inaction– What can he do but try his best? and act according to what he understands of the Theme, the source of all order and life and love.

He loves his brother very much. They were born in the same thought, but they run parallel and opposite to one another; they will never meet again in understanding until one bends towards the other. Neither can bring themselves to compromise. They reach a stalemate every time they try. They come to define themselves by their opposition to the other’s temperament– but you can still see what makes them twins in the mind of Eru, if you know what to look for. They live in each other’s anger, their love, the scope of their comprehension, their deep contemplation.

Sometimes, if he does not catch himself, Manwë does question his maker, does doubt his understanding of the Theme. And sometimes, in a moment of quiet, Melkor forgets to argue with universe and finds peace in the design of things. The moments do not last, because doubt brings Manwë closer to Melkor and his rebellion, and Melkor cannot trust or forgive, because it would mean admitting to one of Manwë’s truths. They are each the missing piece to the other’s puzzle, and the picture on the box is the full scope of Eru’s design. If they could put it together, everything would make sense. But they can’t– and in a weird, ineffable way, that’s part of an even bigger puzzle that only makes sense in four dimensions.

Are elves and men of same species in your verse?

Not physically, no. I would argue that since they share the same divine primogenitor they’re distantly related in spirit, but I think it’s neat that they have a different purpose on Arda than humans do. The fact that humans and elves have completely different motivations and fears on both a physical and spiritual level, yet still manage to find common ground and mutual interest in each other is fascinating!

Though to be sure, I’ve also seen the opposite view (that humans and elves are the same/similar species) represented in fanworks and it can be equally compelling.

…I just like to think of it as Eru throwing a lot of spaghetti at the wall to see what would stick in terms of viable formats for sentient species.