A locket, sable-stoned, for your heart’s desire. Take a lock of hair and a drop of blood from your lady love and place them within; she’ll think of no one else till her soul is dry and sick with longing that only you can ease. Moon-touched and mad your love will be, but yours.
Oh, it would be much the same as it is now, really…!
For starters I’d make some improvements to Aman; destroy the fence of mountains, burn the cities, topple my brother’s throne. That sort of thing.
There’d be fewer elves, of course. More volcanoes. Room for everyone to do as they please, with no more interference from my Valar siblings, and no more stink of bias for the Theme and all the favored creatures of my father’s design…
Most of all, Maeglin, most of all, there would be no one stopping me from rising as I once did, in flame and ice, towering above all, hindered by nothing…
I just want Arda to be fun again, don’t you??
It’s a shame I can only show it to you in a vision…
Duilin gently showing Maeglin how to hold a tiny hummingbird.
god no please stop
it’s too cute i’m going to get diabetes
i have actually held a tiny hummingbird (for banding purposes) and let me tell you, so you know: they don’t stand up. they just roll over in your hand like a little feathery jellybean and blink at you. you look back down at them, trembling, for anywhere from one to four minutes. then they take off past your ear like a vengeful sewing needle at mach 5 and god help you if you flinch.
That’s all. Carry on. I just wanted to add to your headcanon suffering.
Hope fluttered in his chest, and for a moment the intense desire to vomit all of the bile in his stomach lessened (it would be yellow; it wouldn’t be the first time emptying his belly on the ground in front of him, and thankfully it wasn’t in front of the Ainur).There was no time to congratulate himself internally for his cleverness. The threat that Morgoth made, hopefully made casually but he had no desire to find out, made his heart stop as his mind imagined rather gruesomely that claw puncturing fabric and skin and bone. The elf’s mouth gaped as he shuddered again at the thought – if he wasn’t careful, it may be a likely end.
He didn’t miss Morgoth’s observation – how could he know how young he was? Though I may be fully grown, how can he perceive that I am one of the youngest in Gondolin? Maeglin swallowed back the welling of fresh saliva in his mouth so that he could answer clearly. Feeling successful thus far, he knew he had to continue convincingly, and that Morgoth followed the intended line of questioning gave him enough hope to inject confidence into his voice.
“A moment ago, you gave it away. Do you take the defensive or the offensive? You have no plan. From what I have been told about you and how your forces operate – you act when you have a plan. But you have none, and I would not need to be a close councilor to Turgon in order to know what I know."
Do not divulge that! he chided himself. Blinking, he continued on. No need to keep Morgoth waiting… “And what I know is that the Crissaegrim offer no path or pass into the valley. You have no plan because there is no way in.”
"And yet, does my good eye deceive me?” Melkor leaned forward mockingly, scrutinizing the young elf in the beam of his stare. “It seems to me there is at least a way out of the valley… or else have the Eldar learned to fly?”
Behind Maeglin, the Dark Lord’s lieutenant stirred unbidden, placing a heavy hand full of mute warning on the elf’s neck.
"Make no mistake, little mole; you buy seconds of your life with this news. Tell me more. Tell me Turgon’s plan of attack, if indeed you are his close advisor.”
The hand on the boy’s neck moved to his hair, pulling it back taught with a snap.
"Tell me everything, and there may yet be some reward I could give you.”
The elf swallowed so thickly that he was certain Sauron behind him could feel it through his hand. A horrifying realization froze his body and though he was sweating, he suddenly felt as though he’d been doused into a river whose source was the snowmelt from the Eastern mountains. Maeglin shivered and clenched his teeth to prevent them from chattering.
A small sound leapt from his throat, which was now bared with his head pulled back. It was a whimper, an ugly, ungraceful sound that openly declared his fright and alarm. Maeglin felt shame tear down his fragile walls of bravado. Without that, he felt weak and powerless.
It was unwise to doubt the threat that came before whatever promise of reward, but to pass along this information would mean endangering his mother’s brother’s beloved valley… He hadn’t thought this entirely through, or considered everything…
“R-reward? B-but…” Mouth dry, Maeglin licked his lips before continuing. He needed time to think this over-!
“G-give me some time to consider, at least…”
Melkor made a blithe, untroubled gesture with one gauntleted hand, laughing sweetly.
“Of course, of course! Take all the time you need. Lieutenant–”
And the Umaia, whose hard fingers threatened to choke the boy whose throat had uttered such a tantalizing noise of distress, straightened in answer.
“–Please take our guest to the Realgar Hall, and bind him over a geyser vent. Let him consider his options while the flesh of his hands boils off the bone. And Beloved, make sure that he is comfortable! I don’t want to rush his decision."
When I heard of your death, I could not bring myself to search for your remains. The ruin of the land was too great, and my heart was broken. It is said the Eldar are reborn into new bodies after their time in Mandos, and I always hoped… Long into the Second Age I hoped I’d find you again, but you did not return. I should have looked for you harder, if only to bury you.
~S
He’d watched and listened and waited to be addressed next – there was little else to do except hope that he would not be thrown to some predatory creature or to the whims of another. The words he had told his captors that he had to speak to their Lord had been conveyed – but altered in a sudden grip of fear that threatened to toss his stomach.
Maeglin glanced up from where he’d been pushed down to his knees, and met Morgoth’s eyes. That, he learned, was a mistake. There was more to fear under his gaze than any other’s he had ever seen. There had been stories, but seeing was believing – and now, he believed. The voice in his mind screamed to abandon the lie, which he had told himself was a valorous and cunning move at preserving the secrecy of Turgon’s beloved haven. But now it seemed a pathetic and misplaced attempt, one not worthy of putting any more effort into preserving.
His eyes quickly lowered from Morgoth’s, darting to Sauron before looking down again to his bound wrists. If he didn’t say something, then it might be assumed that he was lying. That was likely to prove dangerous – just as dangerous as trying to continue a lie that already was being questioned. The elf drew in a long, shuddering breath and felt his quivering shake loose a bead of sweat to roll down his temple and cheek, to his neck.
Life seemed much better than death – and proving himself useless to those who now held his life in their hands would likely be the quick path to that end, or some other dismal misery that would eventually end the same way. In his mind, Maeglin yearned for the fields and open skies of Gondolin and the caverns and slopes of the mountains and mines, rather than this place. There was so much he had wanted to see and do… which meant he had to tread carefully, for the sake of keeping his life and something of a future. The wisest course of action, Maeglin decided, was to divert the attention on some subtly similar point.
“You can decide all the plans you want now,” he began uncertainly, and with a tremble to his voice – he was aware that how he spoke now meant that he risked much to himself and to those still in the valley, “but even I know that there is something that prevents you from having already done to secure the entire country in your grasp.”
Breathing in, he waited for that half-second of telling reaction. Would they take it, or would he need to ply with words a little more? Anything but to die now…!
Morgoth was silent for a long moment, regarding the boy with a sideways, membranous wink. He missed nothing of the trembling, the damp brow, the words unsaid. It was a clever move, redirecting the line of questioning while neither could see the other’s hand.
What a cunning little rodent, the Vala thought, with something like fondness, or at least recognition. Terrified, but canny enough to play this game, though his life and freedom are at stake.
“And what is it exactly, that even babes in Gondolin know, is preventing the Dark Lord from taking all Beleriand, hm? What delays his conquest? Tell me, clever mole,” He jabbed a talon at the sable crest of Maeglin’s tabard, “or I shall bury you up to the neck in ash and let you bake as black as your standard."
Hope fluttered in his chest, and for a moment the intense desire to vomit all of the bile in his stomach lessened (it would be yellow; it wouldn’t be the first time emptying his belly on the ground in front of him, and thankfully it wasn’t in front of the Ainur).
There was no time to congratulate himself internally for his cleverness. The threat that Morgoth made, hopefully made casually but he had no desire to find out, made his heart stop as his mind imagined rather gruesomely that claw puncturing fabric and skin and bone. The elf’s mouth gaped as he shuddered again at the thought – if he wasn’t careful, it may be a likely end.
He didn’t miss Morgoth’s observation – how could he know how young he was? Though I may be fully grown, how can he perceive that I am one of the youngest in Gondolin? Maeglin swallowed back the welling of fresh saliva in his mouth so that he could answer clearly. Feeling successful thus far, he knew he had to continue convincingly, and that Morgoth followed the intended line of questioning gave him enough hope to inject confidence into his voice.
"A moment ago, you gave it away. Do you take the defensive or the offensive? You have no plan. From what I have been told about you and how your forces operate – you act when you have a plan. But you have none, and I would not need to be a close councilor to Turgon in order to know what I know."
Do not divulge that! he chided himself. Blinking, he continued on. No need to keep Morgoth waiting… “And what I know is that the Crissaegrim offer no path or pass into the valley. You have no plan because there is no way in.”
"And yet, does my good eye deceive me?” Melkor leaned forward mockingly, scrutinizing the young elf in the beam of his stare. “It seems to me there is at least a way out of the valley… or else have the Eldar learned to fly?"
Behind Maeglin, the Dark Lord’s lieutenant stirred unbidden, placing a heavy hand full of mute warning on the elf’s neck.
"Make no mistake, little mole; you buy seconds of your life with this news. Tell me more. Tell me Turgon’s plan of attack, if indeed you are his close advisor.”
The hand on the boy’s neck moved to his hair, pulling it back taught with a snap.
“Tell me everything, and there may yet be some reward I could give you."
“Hah! Stale news will buy you nothing. I know already where the hidden city lies; deep in the Echoriath.” Melkor ventured.
His spies had told him as much— strange tidings of men and dark elves riding to the Encircling Mountains, and never returning. He could say as much with certainty, but no more. He did not wish the elf to know that this intelligence was beyond pricing.
“But these other tidings you bring me… That Turgon is prepared for war, that men I knew not of escaped over the mountains, that hidden hosts prepare to rally and march again on Angband! This thing I did not know.” The dark lord hunched, resting chin on claw in pensive thought.
Had the Noldor not glutted themselves on defeat? The Union of Maedhros had been crushed beyond recovery; yet Gondolin stood, and the Vala’s foresight had warned him that doom would come from behind Turgon’s secret walls. Perhaps he should not have presumed that ALL the Noldor would run, licking their wounds and scattering southward.
Melkor looked to his lieutenant in silence, searching the maia’s expression; finding there wariness, but not outright distrust.
“If what you say is true, then the city cannot be gained by force, and we must gird ourselves yet again for a defensive war… We may yet have the element of surprise if we move quickly, but a direct attack is out of the question. Could we starve them out, do you think? Surround the city at a distance, burn fields, dam rivers— let the Noldor waste in hunger amidst unused war machines?”
“My lord, do not be so hasty to leap to battle on the untested words of a traitor.” Sauron cautioned. “If the boy is lying, we give the city time to rally in defense, and we stay our hand needlessly against a sleeping foe.”
“IF the boy is lying, he will regret he was not drowned at birth, won’t he, beloved?” Melkor turned his eyes to the captive Maeglin, harsh spotlights under which each shiver, each bead of sweat was illuminated.He’d watched and listened and waited to be addressed next – there was little else to do except hope that he would not be thrown to some predatory creature or to the whims of another. The words he had told his captors that he had to speak to their Lord had been conveyed – but altered in a sudden grip of fear that threatened to toss his stomach.
Maeglin glanced up from where he’d been pushed down to his knees, and met Morgoth’s eyes. That, he learned, was a mistake. There was more to fear under his gaze than any other’s he had ever seen. There had been stories, but seeing was believing – and now, he believed. The voice in his mind screamed to abandon the lie, which he had told himself was a valorous and cunning move at preserving the secrecy of Turgon’s beloved haven. But now it seemed a pathetic and misplaced attempt, one not worthy of putting any more effort into preserving.
His eyes quickly lowered from Morgoth’s, darting to Sauron before looking down again to his bound wrists. If he didn’t say something, then it might be assumed that he was lying. That was likely to prove dangerous – just as dangerous as trying to continue a lie that already was being questioned. The elf drew in a long, shuddering breath and felt his quivering shake loose a bead of sweat to roll down his temple and cheek, to his neck.
Life seemed much better than death – and proving himself useless to those who now held his life in their hands would likely be the quick path to that end, or some other dismal misery that would eventually end the same way. In his mind, Maeglin yearned for the fields and open skies of Gondolin and the caverns and slopes of the mountains and mines, rather than this place. There was so much he had wanted to see and do… which meant he had to tread carefully, for the sake of keeping his life and something of a future. The wisest course of action, Maeglin decided, was to divert the attention on some subtly similar point.
“You can decide all the plans you want now,” he began uncertainly, and with a tremble to his voice – he was aware that how he spoke now meant that he risked much to himself and to those still in the valley, “but even I know that there is something that prevents you from having already done to secure the entire country in your grasp.”
Breathing in, he waited for that half-second of telling reaction. Would they take it, or would he need to ply with words a little more? Anything but to die now…!
Morgoth was silent for a long moment, regarding the boy with a sideways, membranous wink. He missed nothing of the trembling, the damp brow, the words unsaid. It was a clever move, redirecting the line of questioning while neither could see the other’s hand.
What a cunning little rodent, the Vala thought, with something like fondness, or at least recognition. Terrified, but canny enough to play this game, though his life and freedom are at stake.
“And what is it exactly, that even babes in Gondolin know, is preventing the Dark Lord from taking all Beleriand, hm? What delays his conquest? Tell me, clever mole,” He jabbed a talon at the sable crest of Maeglin’s tabard, “or I shall bury you up to the neck in ash and let you bake as black as your standard."
“Hah! Stale news will buy you nothing. I know already where the hidden city lies; deep in the Echoriath.” Melkor ventured.
His spies had told him as much— strange tidings of men and dark elves riding to the Encircling Mountains, and never returning. He could say as much with certainty, but no more. He did not wish the elf to know that this intelligence was beyond pricing.
“But these other tidings you bring me… That Turgon is prepared for war, that men I knew not of escaped over the mountains, that hidden hosts prepare to rally and march again on Angband! This thing I did not know.” The dark lord hunched, resting chin on claw in pensive thought.
Had the Noldor not glutted themselves on defeat? The Union of Maedhros had been crushed beyond recovery; yet Gondolin stood, and the Vala’s foresight had warned him that doom would come from behind Turgon’s secret walls. Perhaps he should not have presumed that ALL the Noldor would run, licking their wounds and scattering southward.
Melkor looked to his lieutenant in silence, searching the maia’s expression; finding there wariness, but not outright distrust.
“If what you say is true, then the city cannot be gained by force, and we must gird ourselves yet again for a defensive war… We may yet have the element of surprise if we move quickly, but a direct attack is out of the question. Could we starve them out, do you think? Surround the city at a distance, burn fields, dam rivers— let the Noldor waste in hunger amidst unused war machines?”
“My lord, do not be so hasty to leap to battle on the untested words of a traitor.” Sauron cautioned. “If the boy is lying, we give the city time to rally in defense, and we stay our hand needlessly against a sleeping foe.”
“IF the boy is lying, he will regret he was not drowned at birth, won’t he, beloved?” Melkor turned his eyes to the captive Maeglin, harsh spotlights under which each shiver, each bead of sweat was illuminated.
The road to victory is paved with riches that rolled off some careless idiot’s cart…
Glad am I that you were spared the rod! Now I am free to spoil you.
…Apprentice? This is… well, perhaps not sudden, but why now? Mm—!
sharpglance replied to your post: sharpglance replied to your post: So y…
[Mereth Aderthad is the birthplace of a lot of good bad ideas. I like to think it was where Turgon and Finrod decided to have a trip together, like a ‘hey dude we should get together sometime we haven’t hung out in a while’. That’s one headcanon hah]
“Ha ha! Yeah man, we could totally hang out and like…. talk about architecture and tell each other our dreams!”
“Why, are your dreams weird?”
“HUH? NO. Are yours? I mean, do you have weird dreams? About like… I dunno Ulmo, or…?”
“NO MAN THAT WOULD BE WEIRD HA HA unless you have dreams about Ulmo…?”
“NO HA HA HA
"HA HA HA”
“HAAA.”
*eats hummus in silence*
sharpglance replied to your post: So yesterday while listening to Vol. I…
[do you realize how excited I get when someone talks about Mereth aderthad? raddest party ever thrown /ever/ and Fingolfin was the best host.]
FRIEND IF YOU HAVE HEADCANONS YOU GOTTA TELL ME ABOUT THEM RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY *daunts you with eyes*
Send me a “✝” to read a wish from the book.
Do any of the Gondolindrim see the same sun that sets and rises that I do? Do they hasten their labors, and are they stretched thinner and feel more pressed after the Battle?
There are times when I sit idle with a sore body when I become acquainted with the feeling that there is a place that I justly ought to be. It is not quite so unfamiliar a sensation, but this time there is a rather wistful, tender feeling about it rather than a desire to be free from somewhere. Certainly, if I desired to, I could find something to fiercely blame for my being here or for why I have not yet tried to return: some personal failing or the fault of another, circumstances that I cannot change or bend to the favor of anyone.
To be powerless in a situation so beyond my control – I yearn for the kind of strength that my mother bore so proudly for years. I must find resolve, as she did.
sharpglance remembered my old Maeglin sketch from last year so I cleaned it up a bit
Have some Magelbagel for your dash~
★ During your time with your muse, what has been your favourite thread? Holy shit you went right for the balls
GOD I’VE HAD SOME GOOD THREADS UUNNNGHHHFHH
The bad apple verse between human!Melkor(razari) and Nerdanelistarnie got turned into its own archived post because I loved it so much, and in a similar vein I really, really enjoy the thread between Melkor and Miriel, which has been going since FOREVER.
…I’m still trying not to cry too much over A New Shadow ‘verse.
There have been a lot of classics that I’ve been inspired by and have recycled bits of into fics and comics. 🙂
Currently, I’m super stoked about doing horrible things to nolikereally ’s Thranduil, and I’m enjoying the few threads I’ve started for my other muses as well.
● Admit to three guilty pleasures and/or embarrassing facts about yourself
…Ah, so this is revenge.
Okay so I have really, really good teeth that I ABSOLUTELY don’t deserve because I have the worst dental hygiene of anyone in my family. I just.. I FORGET A LOT, OKAY? also flossing what is that
I steal snacks. I am a snack thief. An expert snack thief, to be precise. And if I’m taking a shower at someone else’s house, chances are, I have sampled whatever fancy bath products are in reach.
Naked blogging.
♥ Recommend one book, one movie and one song.
“The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories” by Angela Carter, the Gormenghast BBC mini series, and Corporate Cannibal by Grace Jones.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 