heget: custom sigil for Andreth, wisteria (andreth)
Finrod frets while helping the people of Bëor settle Estolad. He desires a safe home for his new friends (and some elves are safer neighbors than others).


Finrod tells Balan it is not wise, is not entirely safe, to stay in Ossiriand. He cites the complaints of the Green Elves, their worries and unhappiness. Better to move to an uninhabited area, one with room for crops and houses, he advises Balan. On the other side of the River Gelion the cleared plains next to the Forest of Region south of Nan Elmoth are well-suited for farmland. The lands are claimed by Amras and Amrod, but the two are rarely present, preferring to hunt to the south on the opposite side of the river, away from the trees patrolled by Doriath’s March-wardens. Everything but the pleasures of the hunt are beneath their notice, and Balan’s people have nothing the two sons of Fëanor would value.

The March-wardens and the Girdle figure heavily in Finrod’s calculations, for he has conversed long with Beleg and Mablung, who think highly of him, and with his sister’s beloved, Celeborn, and his brother. As long as Finrod vouches for these new arrivals, keeps peace with the Laegrim and King Thingol, and the newcomers do not try to trespass into the Girdle itself with their axes and ignorance (the rangers trust the power of Melian to stop any intruder, but in truth they tell Finrod that they fear more a misunderstanding between a human and one of the Ents that travel through these woods. The Ents are very touchy on the subject of axes), then the Marchwardens of Doriath with offer their own silent protection to this encampment of men. Their flanks will be guarded by the silent shadows in the trees, but left alone.

Mablung takes one look at the collection of tents and campfires, grunts, and asks if the humans need better spears and axes, for the armories of Menegroth are full with old dwarf-work. The warriors that once wielded the weapons died south of here, near a lonely hill. Mablung won’t even charge a price; better to let the humans clean the rust from the blades. Less chance of King Thingol hearing about the trade, and it is all in the name of safer borders anyway. Beleg thinks the humans are cute, far cuter than the dwarves that Prince Eöl found (“Haven’t heard from him in a century or two. Might send a messenger up to his place since we’re in the area. Not that we care to talk with him, or him to us. Maybe I’ll choose a messenger by drawing straws, or pick the greenest recruit. You wouldn’t want to go talk to him, Prince Finrod? You’re very good at talking with people, and you have a friendship with the dwarves in common. Wait, you are technically Noldor; I forget that. I'm so used to thinking of you as the King’s nephew. Never mind.”). Celeborn offers a few horses, and seed for crops that will grow in the soil of Estolad, which Finrod and Balan’s family thank him profusely. Balan and his sons tell the silver-haired elf that the boats lent to help with crossing of the River Gelion were more than enough assistance, but Celeborn waves off their gratitude with stuttered repetitions of how he was glad to help them as he may and please stop thanking him before he blushes red with embarrassment. If he glows any brighter, Galadriel will never let him live this down. Cryptically she tells her fiancee to become accustomed to this, eyes distant with foresight. Celeborn's brother, Galathil, repeats the grievances of the Green Elves and takes no interest more.

Most of all Finrod does not say the words he heard Fëanor spew and his sons repeat, of how the Aftercomers would defraud them of their rightful kingdoms of Middle-earth, none would oust them, that they would refuse to share power, lordship, bliss, beauty, and light with anyone outside themselves, least of all the mortals unknown. Finrod knows these mortals, and he wishes to share everything with them. He regrets that he cannot give all beauty and bliss to Balan and his people. He told Balan he was not Oromë, insisted to the mortals that he was but another elf, though dressed unlike the ones the human knew from the other side of the mountains, and not a Power. Never more clearly does Finrod understand the Valar, though, in this fierce and protective need to provide the people he loves with the same privileges his people were afforded. He tells the foreboding in his heart that his fears are unfounded. His cousins will never attack another settlement. Finrod clings to the condolences of Mereth Aderthad and the vows of forgiveness. Balan’s people need good neighbors, safe neighbors - ‘better neighbors than Alqualondë had’, he thinks and flinches and vows not to be Angrod. It is not his fault that the mortals have arrived to an unsafe land, that he had to break their hopes of a home free from Morgoth. But Finrod plans walls and palisades to encircle the houses constructed in Estolad, speaks of the benefits of alliances to his brothers and the kings Thingol and Fingolfin, questions Balan on how he kept his people safe during his journey and what more can be done. Most of all Finrod remembers the unspeakable hardship of Helcaraxë, too great for even elven bodies to endure, impossible for weak mortals to cross. If only... Only a few months he has known Balan and his people, and Finrod wishes he was strong enough to endure the loss of their friendship, the uncertainty of knowing their fate. Balan eyes him with a wisdom Finrod has seen only in Círdan and Ingwë and tells the elf lord that Finrod’s task is not to protect the humans from all ills and dangers. Not even the Powers, of which Finrod has shared with Balan their true names, could accomplish that. His friendship is gift enough.The opportunity that Estolad offers his people is hope and gift enough.



The House of Bëor and their Nóm are one of the best and inspiring multi-generational friendships. This is inspired by Ch. 17 "Of the Coming of Men into the West".

I am directly paraphrasing from the other passage that inspired this quote: "for [Fëanor] echoed the lies of Melkor, that the Valar had cozened them and would hold them captive so that Men might rule in Middle-earth. ... "We and we alone shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda! No other race shall oust us!" " (Silmarillion 89-90)

I firmly believe one of the reasons the Third Kin-slaying is accounted the cruelest is because half if not a majority of those slain would have been mortals, so aside from how heinous the attack was and how few survivors were left, that is one of the only confirmed times when elves are killing Edain - or indeed any humans not directly allied and fighting on the side of Morgoth and Sauron.

Celeborn’s part is a direct allusion to ‘Farewell to Lórien’ in FotR.
heget: Tolkien's sigil for Lúthien (luthien)
“We need horses,” Prince Fingolfin said, and to which the gathered princes of his host agreed. Some heads nodded more vigorously than others, but no one present at his council refuted his statement. The boost to mobility and size against the orcish army had been well-proved by the cavalry victory of the sons of Fëanor before the moon arose. Novices the Noldor still were to warfare, yet the example of Lord Oromë and Nahar had affixed the righteousness of facing Morgoth's pawns from horseback in their minds even before the return to Beleriand's shores and recent history had die-cast it in lead. Aranwë as acting secretary for the council meeting recorded the lack of horses at the top of a priority list, above the need to locate good iron ore and stone to build strong fortifications. Plans to rectify their need remained unwritten.

Only the sons of Fëanor and their followers possessed any horses, for they had transported the animals aboard the stolen Swan-ships. It had proven impossible to herd any creature across the frozen darkness of the ice desert, and the followers of Fingolfin and Finrod had not attempted to do so. Nor had they any horses or other beasts of burden remaining in their possession to attempt to take with them across the Helcaraxë after Fëanor had betrayed the host by taking the fleet and then abandoning them. Fëanor and his followers had loaded all the animals that the Noldor had the foresight to bring in that hurried flight onto the largest of the Swan-ships before he disembarked in secret. "They would have stolen the chickens, had we brought them," Egalmoth said, a joke that Aranwë and Ecthelion often repeated.

To his best friend, Turgon privately confided that his brother Fingon was as wroth at the theft of his beloved steed as to the general betrayal at Losgar. Finrod believed it, for he had taken part in drafting and revising the proposals for possible reconciliation that Fingolfin sent to Maglor after learning of what had transpired before their arrival. At the top of the list of demands was the return of Fingolfin and Fingon’s horses. Finrod's personal missives to his cousins across the lake were short, sympathetic notes that strongly urged Maglor to submit to their uncle and accept these peace terms. Words of disgust and disappointment had been restricted to unsent first drafts. Quick warnings and reminders to ensure nothing unfortunate happened to Fingolfin and Fingon's horses -and relief that they had not been among those lost to Ossë and Uinen's wrathful retaliation- went above the signature.

Turgon’s personal opinion was that food was a more pressing demand, though he conceded to Finrod that plough animals would greatly increase the production of arable land, and thus horses would be a boon.

The Sindar elves of this new mist-laden land did possess horses, though the animals were few and far between because of the onslaught of the army of Morgoth. Herds of thousands had been slaughtered by the orcs, and most of the surviving animals had been rescued by taking them south into the protection of the Girdle or by fleeing east and then south. The horses and other livestock that the Sindar herdsmen had been able to protect and hide from the orcs were therefore all the more precious and guarded.

In any case, the native horses of Beleriand were smaller creatures than the Noldor were accustomed to, almost uniformly of a black or bay coloration, though some had a lighter dun coat, with sporadic stripes and spots, and universally with a long black stripe down the back. Their heads were large and ungraceful, eyes small and dark, and the manes and tails thick and coarse. Prince Fingon disparagingly likened them to donkeys and asses, yet he was first to entreat the Sindar who still owned horses to allow him to examine the surviving animals and worked tirelessly to assist in their care and tend to lingering wounds. Suspicion of the Noldor prince swiftly faded the longer he spent rubbing salves into festering cuts and asking earnest questions about each animal's temperament and history. Fingon would return to camp late for council meetings with mud caked to his knees and hands smelling of unfamiliar stringent healing herbs. His father did not bring attention to his eldest son's absence from the meetings, and Aranwë only bothered to send copies of the council discussions and recordings to Turgon. No one protested Fingon's lack of involvement, because no one truly desired Fingon's political input or logistical insight. Fingon’s interest back in Valinor had heavily skewed towards all forms of equestrian competition, a passion he had shared with Aunt Lalwen, and no one was better at creating an instant rapport with the animals. Unlike gregarious and charismatic Turgon, his older brother Fingon had always very few friends, and those few but close bonds of friendship had mostly been forged in the paddock fields or as friendly rivalries in the equestrian sports.

Angrod’s wife, Edhellos, had bred and raised horses, selling the finest to the various princes, and the renown of her animals and the smoothness of their specialized gaits had been second only to a rival family that pledged loyalty to the eldest of Finwë's sons back when the political split in Tirion began to widen. Of the horses paddocked in the Fëanorian camp, she had personally bred or trained the majority and could detail the names and pedigrees of the remainder. Edhellos would glared across the lake in the direction of those stolen horses, murmuring dark and vicious words too low for any to hear. Then to quell her hate temporarily she would visit the Sindarin herds, though that had the opposite effect of only inflaming her jealousy. “We need horses,” Angrod said to his older brother, “for my marriage depends on it.”

Finrod enlisted Turgon’s help in conferring with the leaders of the Sindar elves in Nevrast about possible purchases of some of the remaining horses. Sheltered in the marshland around the lake in eastern Nevrast, multiple herds of these smaller gray and white horses -ponies, truly- had survived. The horses of Nevrast were too short to be comfortably ridden by the taller Noldor; Turgon in particular looked comical standing next to one- but for pack animals and pulling farming equipment they would more than suffice. And they were more aesthetically pleasing than the other breeds native to Northern Beleriand, if the princes were honest. Edhellos praised their even temperaments, muttering about the princes' obsession with flashy animals. "A high trot and shiny coat will not do us any good, but trying to fight afoot or furrow a field by hand would be worse. And our options are limited." Finrod began to divvy some of the jewelry he had carried across the Helcaraxë to people he trusted, sister-in-law Edhellos and his childhood friends Edrahil and Heledir chief among them, to bargain for horses under the name of King Fingolfin. Turgon had a strong reputation with the leaders in Nevrast, bolstered by Fingon's rapport with the herdsmen, yet the price per head was steep, and only a few of the horses were willing to be parted with.

"And you thought I was foolish for carting those jewels across the ice," Finrod teased as Heledir trotted a string of mares and yearlings through the Cirith Ninniach from Nevrast into Hithlum, the hoof-beats echoing strangely through the narrow passage above the fast-moving stream.

According to a helpful Sindar herdsman named Annael, yes, the natives of Beleriand did have ‘tall horses’. The King of Beleriand, Elu Thingol, was taller than even Prince Turgon, and needed a refined and spirited mount equal to his stature. There was a royal herd of leopard-spotted destriers, horses as strong and swift as any son of Nahar, but they could not be found north of the Ered Wethrin.

Still the existence across Lake Mithrim of the Valinorean horses, tall and strong and more than a few stolen, tormented those that brooded over them and the necessity of horses in the war effort against Morgoth.

This goaded Heledir to make the suggestion one night to Angell and a few other warriors of his acquaintance that they should cross the lake in secret and rustle horses. The idea was eagerly embraced. Secret plans were made, getaway routes carefully examined, Edhellos consulted and inducted into the conspiracy along with her husband, and rope stockpiled. Her desire was more revenge-motivated than the others, but as Heledir teased, it was better to have her with them than attempt without, and this kept Edhellos from just marching across the lake to scream into Caranthir's face. They debated if more than one raid would be necessary, and how many additional riders to guide the herd along the route. Angell began to evaluate the recruits he was training for willingness to engage in subterfuge and ability to ride the purchased Nevrast ponies. Also firmly debated was the merits of stealing the personal mounts of the sons of Fëanor. Edrahil procured more terrain maps and dissuaded Aranwë from scrutinizing the supply requests. Food for the extra horses was set aside. Angrod promised to cover the conspirators in any political fallout with his elder brother or Prince Fingolfin. The return of prizes like Fingon's Arocco would grant them clemency, they decided. To safeguard the reclaimed horses, the plotters considered the necessity of driving the herd across Hithlum deep into the protected territory of Nevrast. The rustled horses could be easily hidden there, yet such a course of action would necessitate Turgon's involvement. As a compromise, Lady Aredhel was inducted into the conspiracy. Of the other would-be thieves, she was the most enthusiastic and ambitious by far.

Thankfully Fingon returned from his daring rescue of Maedhros, facilitating a more genuine probability of reconciliation between the two Noldor camps and the eventual goodwill gesture of the return of several horses and additional livestock. Thus the raid was unnecessary (and plans detailing its existence denied).





"...for from few their horses had increased swiftly, and the grass of Ard-galen was rich and green. Of those horses many of the sires came from Valinor, and they were given to Fingolfin by Maedhros in atonement of his losses, for they had been carried by ship to Losgar." (Chapter 14, The Silmarillion)

Pondering the differences between the native horses of Beleriand and Valinor, I looked to what were the possible original native horses of Europe, giving particular attention to the Tarpan, images of horses found in European cave paintings, and general characteristics of surviving 'primitive' breeds. Most wild horses and those of a recognized 'primitive' type are a dun or mousy gray with a black dorsal stripe and zebra-like leg markings. Ancient European wild horses, being forest dwellers, would have more commonly had coat colors of black or bay to blend in with shadows- something even more necessary for star-dark Beleriand. However, Dalmatian-like leopard spotting was also very common, and this spotted coat, now usually mostly seen in American Appaloosas and Knabstruppers, was more common and prized in the medieval and Baroque periods. And the necessity of a leader on a white horse for visibility would have been even more required in a land with only stars for illumination. Thus Thingol's spotted destriers. Valinorean horses, in contrast, are hot-blooded and high-strung gainted breeds.
Nevrast's ponies around the Lake Linaewen are Camargue horses with the names filled off.
Edhellos, going back to my first Silm fic, has always been a horse breeder and trainer.

Going back to some of the earliest laws recorded among Iron Age Germanic tribes, horse theft was punishable by death and accounted a more serious crime than murder. As per the quote in Chapter 14, the only way to account for the Valinorean horses brought over by the Noldor is via ship. And Fëanor stole the horses for the same reason he embarked on the stolen Swan-ships with only the core of his followers and then torched the ships at Losgar- to deny mobility to others.
heget: custom sigil for Andreth, wisteria (andreth)
“Do you think we have not courage?” Boron asks Lord Finrod, when the elven king warns of the dangers of Dorthonion, of its proximity to Thangorodium. “Do you think we chose not to fight against Morgoth, that he is not the avowed enemy of our race? That the harms he has done to us and our families is somehow less than those he did to the Noldor, and we have less cause or motivation to bring war to him, to stand against him?”

“Well, you certainly have more conviction than many of my cousins,” interjects Lord Finrod’s brother with a sardonic smile. “If Lord Boron and any of his people that wish to join him want to move up to our lands, Dorthonion has land for their choosing. It is not as if we have many men or homes on the land as it is, or warriors to patrol it. I will not gainsay anyone willing to fight, not when our efforts to encourage anyone beside Uncle Fingolfin have fallen on defective ears.”

King Finrod makes a strange little expression that starts as a glare but transforms into a huff, as if he cannot decide which part of his brother’s statement to rebut first and if any are worth the effort to deign a response.

Boromir has a odd moment of empathy, seeing the elven lords not as mighty figures but as a pair of bickering brothers, and wonders if his father was ever embarrassed by Belegor and him sniping to each other over family. Then again, his arguments with Bereg have shamed the family enough. He glances to his father, who is nodding vigorously at Lord Angrod with a particularly stubborn set to his jaws and remembers that this is how the situation started, that Boromir’s cousin was foolish enough to play into the enemy’s hands. The Dark Lord up in Thangorodrim did not desire Bëor’s people allied with the elves or anywhere in this new land, and Boromir cannot think of a better reason to do anything than defying the Master of Lies. And, staring at his father, Boromir knows the surest way to prod anyone in his family to avow a task is to impinge upon their courage or imply they are forbidden.

“The Master of Lies will hunt us anywhere we live, and his emissaries in disguise have already tried to come among us in Estolad. This is an old trick of which my father and the Wisewomen of our tribe long recognize. But the servants of the Dark Lord fear the power of you elven lords and your ability to perceive their seemings of deceit.”

“Imperfectly,” interrupts the Lord Finrod.

“Yet you have the power of the mind we do not,” counters Boromir’s father.

“And it would be harder for a disguised sorcerer of the enemy to sneak into Dorthonion, if there are so few people that live there to begin with, and few visitors,” Boromir adds, hoping he sounds intelligent and adds value to this weighty conversation. Often he feels as if he is but a callous seventeen instead of twenty seven, but he knows he has a point, so crowded has Estolad become with new arrivals from the East trickling in each month. Amlach’s doppelganger could pretend to be him because no one knew that Imlach’s son had not joined the pressing crowd. Few there knew Amlach intimately to know if his words were those of his mind or true manner. Bereg had derided Boromir for being too trusting of the elves, but Boromir holds that it is his younger cousin that was naive. The elves can do what the People of Bëor cannot and are willing to give what they need. Land, as much and more than can be had in the overrun settlement of Estolad, and the chance to fight against the true enemy of his people are not gifts to be tossed aside. Boromir can not fathom what Bereg hopes to find by returning to where Grandfather Baran fled from, but he knows Bereg will not find it. There are three tribes of men, whom the elves are now calling Edain, who have entered Beleriand because the unknown on the western side of the Blue Mountains was a better prospect than what they had.

Boromir thinks he has much in common with the spirit of his forefather Bëor, for the appeal of a new land to explore and the hope it offers fills him with a desire to sing. Boromir desires a life of greatness, in the manner that truly matters, of leaving the world better than he found it, and standing firm against the Master of Lies is the greatest calling he sees.

The elven king clears his throat in the manner of over-corrective older brothers everywhere -which makes Boromir feel even more strangely elative to know he shares a trait with Nóm himself - and smirks as only an older brother to an younger sibling facing their comeuppance can. “What about the swamp?”

Lord Angrod grimaces, and Boromir’s father shifts his eyes between the faces of the two elven lords.

“Are those the fens I’ve heard of?”

“And the only way to enter Dorthonion from Tol Sirion, unless you take the long way around from the Pass of Aglon,” states Lord Finrod. “I’m sure you remember Lady Haleth’s stories of leading large groups of Edain through unwelcoming terrain, and you are very familiar with those fens, aren’t you, Brother?”

Angrod scowls and folds his hands in front of him, but before he can retort, Boron laughs.

“I fear no swamp. We shall take that route, for I wish to see your city of Nargothrond again and the white tower you have built on the river.”

All the elves gathered around observing this conversation make appalled faces, and Boromir blushes, praying his father has not made an over-bold and foolish promise. This conversation was to prove they had more sense than Bereg.

“We’ll go through the swamp,” Boron states firmly, the declaration tied to the decision to move to Dorthonion itself, and he will budge on neither. Finrod and Angrod look as if they wish to argue, and both pairs of bright eyes land on Boromir.

The young man swallows and rubs at his beard under their scrutiny. “As my father says,” he says and prays he does not sound foolish.

King Finrod mutters something under his breath that sounds like ice, but Lord Angrod smiles brightly. Perhaps too brightly, for his cheer seems false, but he clasps Boromir’s arm with a warm hand. “Do not fret; my brother and I will help your people through the Fen of Serech, carry you all if we must.”

Boromir has a bad feeling about this. 
heget: custom sigil in blue and gold (Default)

 

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. Previous Entries can be found under the sigil tag. Please credit if use.

In order:

Finrod-Nóm, Finrod, Orodreth, Angrod 01, Angrod 02, Aegnor, Galadriel

Notes:

Yes, I'm reposting these once more. Because if people in the Silmarillion/Tolkien fandom continue to use them, I want nice official links to them. And so another crosspost from tumblr project is born.

For my favorite set of Finwions, making sigils for them was a royal pain. Suffice to say, my difficulties with designing and crafting these sigils mean I’m not as happy with the end result as some of the other endeavors. Still, they work well for my purposes.

The color scheme for the offspring of Finarfin take their cues from the only Tolkien Originalfor any of them that I have to work with: Finrod Felagund’s sigil, made after he discovered the Edain, and obviously something constructed by humans instead of elves.

  • I differentiate between Finrod’s human-derived sigil and the one he must have had before his little discovery by calling that one Finrod-Nóm, after the Bëorings’ name for him. It was a sigil I put off making for a long time because it isn’t made of symmetrical geometric shapes. And after a few years of doing these, breaking away from the pattern was intimidating.
  • For Finrod pre-Edain, I tried to make something floral, or to hearken back to the ring of his father (the one with two golden snakes with emerald eyes, one wearing a floral wreath, the other eating it). I struggled, and failed, and in the end just did that very curving Art Nouveau mess. But the underlining structure is from Finarfin’s, and I think perhaps you can make a character extrapolation. As a young man Finrod is interested in everything and everyone, and he doesn’t have a rigidly defined passion. Anyways, his Nargothrond banners will switch to Nóm early on.
  • Orodreth I tend to imagine as the second brother, just because he gets hit with the middle-child, second-born always in the shadow of his siblings and wants to keep the peace syndrome- which does feel like him. The sigil is heavier on the white (fittingly) and the flower comes from Eärwen. Was another one of those “eh, not so terrible I won’t mind it in my game.”
  • Angrod has two variations not for any story-based reason but because I can’t decide which I like better. I’m very pleased with the clean geometry of his, and the black circle of Angrod 02 is a reference to his name “Iron-grip”.
  • Aegnor was from playing around with what I’d done for Orodreth. The small golden xat the end of each arm make me think of crossed blades, which fits my image of him as a rash warrior.
  • Galadriel was one I had made a sigil for but was unhappy with. Then I took inspiration from what I liked about Angrod and did a strongly geometric design in the same colors as her brothers. When she comes to Beleriand, she comes as their equal as a prince, so she needs to be able to use the same banners. The center has design elements from her Grandfather Olwë and is also an oblique ‘braided gold wreath’ reference. Rings, as well.

heget: My Little Quendi - Nightingale and Bold (MLQ)


My Little Quendi has returned for a new season, taking advantage of the show-runner’s side project involving sigils for some improved cutie marks. By popular demand, the bonus feature on one of the DVDs includes the short animated segment of the Philosophical Discussion of Friendly Goldenwise and Patience Wisdom. This is a kid’s show (supposedly), so of course good will defeat evil. And the subtitle of this show is ‘Friendship is Magic’, so yes, we will remain friends even unto the end of the universe. Wait for us.

...I think this was a gift/request for [personal profile] anghraine 
heget: My Little Quendi - Nightingale and Bold (MLQ)





There’s always at least one song per episode on My Little Quendi: Friendship is Magic.

Today’s episode was a magic song duel.

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heget: custom sigil in blue and gold (Default)
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