Character Design Of Maglor

Things that run in the House of Finwe:

Good hair

Being dramatic

Fits of craft-related madness

A love of jewelry

Choosing violence

Impressively good hair, even by elvish standards

The willingness to fight a Vala

Stubbornness

Heroic deaths

Being infuriatingly good at things

Hair that is suspiciously perfect even after crossing the Helcaraxe, hanging from Thangorodrim for thirty years, thousands of years of being a beach hermit, etc.

Unexplained, vaguely mystical powers

Autism

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Fingon, on his way to Angband:

Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers; his spirit burned as a flame ⁜

“If you have time to be on social media, you also have time for…” “If you have time to watch Netflix, you also have time for…” Yeah, but do I have the energy for it? Do I have the emotional and mental capacity for it? Am I pain-free enough for it? Can I focus on it? Can I do it without leaving my bed? Can I safely do it without risk of (physically or emotionally) injuring myself by pushing past my boundaries?

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Here is the artwork for @silmarillionepistolary day 6, Loss and Betrayal.

It is dark in Valinor.

Finwë, still remaining in self-imposed exile with his son and grandsons, fears for himself and the people he abandoned - never has the world been this dark, not even in the first days at Cuivienen. Melkor betrayed them all, and is nowhere to be found, but the Two Trees are dead, still bleeding black venom from the attack. Fëanáro is gone, he was summoned by the Valar, who seem to think he can help right the wrong that was done here only weeks ago. Finwë worries that his son will be too bitter and too proud to listen.

He misses his family, the ones he left behind when he chose Fëanáro’s side - he knows that Nolofinwë was deeply hurt by this, but he still thinks his eldest son needs him more - and he prays they are all right. Formenos is silent, but not dark … the Silmarils, set into the wall above his son’s throne, cast light into every corner.

I worry for him, Finwë writes. He needs me. It is dark, but those gems…

He pauses, looking up at them, before he takes a deep breath and goes on: Valar forgiv-

Finwë does not get to finish the sentence. He does not even have time to react as the heavy iron doors of Formenos are blown right off their hinges by a single strike of a massive iron hammer. A pitch-dark form rushes forward, and before Finwë can even cry out, Melkor’s hammer swings into him, and the force of the blow sends him flying backwards. His body collides with the wall far behind, and the last thing he sees is Melkor prying his son’s coveted jewels from the wall.