andie, she/her, 26, united states. this blog is full of Tolkien. also other art, photos, fandoms, and big-eyes-emoji stuff, but mostly Tolkien. i tag! my girlfriend is bright ivanaskye, who is a lot, but not too much
Should I write Thingol sitting on the floor next to Huan after Beren and Lúthien’s wedding, half-drunk and trying not to be to emotional, and talking to the Maiarin hound about how he remembers the suspiciously large and intelligent canines that appeared in Cuiviénen after Oromë came and who guarded the elven villages while the Valar were capturing Melkor? Sad reminiscing about their families back in Valinor. One of the hounds who liked to play in the water of the lake and who then hung out in Alqualondë later. (Huan awkwardly and shamefully covering a bite mark that only looks like it comes from a wolf). More awkward ‘thanks for looking after my daughter and keeping her safe, being a better friend’ remorse. Begrudging acceptance of new son-in-law gets ecstatically overpowering tail wagging and slobber kisses. Melain finds the pair of them sleeping in the corner, does best to preserve the shreds of their dignity as she sighed. Mablung helps.
Luckily grey dog hair doesn’t show up on gray cloaks.
Came back to this in an upcoming Of Ingwë Ingweron chapter. Still keeping this full idea around for a possible short fic, but here’s the relevant passage:
Millennia would pass before Elwë, now Eu Thingol King of Beleriand, would slouch on the floor of his palace in Menegroth and reach a hand to pet the ears of the Hound of Oromë, valiant Huan. Quiet and subdued, Elu would murmur words of thanks to Huan’s kin.
“Where you there, loyal friend of my daughter and her love?” he would ask in a wine-slurred voice. “What did you and your people think of us and our simple villages?”
There is a sexual aspect to her relationships with those she chooses to instruct in the art of enchantment—Melian gladly shares her secret knowledge, but rarely, and only with women. Sex with Melian goes much further than physical pleasure, expanding her partners’ minds to rhythms and powers beyond the physical sphere, which are necessary to understand Melian’s secret arts.
Also, it’s fun for everyone involved. Melian is the toppiest top who ever topped, and she would be the absolute most annoying kind of philosophical bondage enthusiast if she didn’t have eternal, supernatural experience and perspective. She is always loving and attentive and eager to share what knowledge she can with her partners, who, while immortal, are not eternally tied to the music of the universe in the same way that she is. Everything she does reflects her love for the children of Ilúvatar and her eagerness to show them a fraction of what she sees.
Thingol, on the other hand, is special. Melian’s relationship with her protégés is about opening a window for them into her perception as a Maia, but with Thingol, she learns about inhabiting a body, being a partner and a mother, and experiencing flesh like one of the elves.
There was a little scrap of paper that Elu Thingol kept in his pocket at all times. If asked, the king would not have been able to explain why. Most days, he forgot that it was there. On occasion, Elu would forget the paper in his sleeping chambers, and he would spend the day twisting on his throne in discomfort. The paper was a welcome weight, different than the sort that came with the crown.
The ink was mostly faded, but Elu could still make out the old drawing. The spiraling star was poorly drawn, like all things drawn by Finwë’s hand, and it made Elu smile to look upon. A simple gift from a cherished friend was nothing to look down upon.
Melian once offered to restore the drawing to its original state, but Elu declined. Even should the ink fade beyond recognition, Elu would have it fade as Finwë’s creation and Finwë’s creation alone.
“A star for a star!” Finwë grinned, even as Elwë doubled over. “Stop laughing! I tried!”
“I could not tell,” Elwë managed.
Elu ran his thumb over the paper and looked up at his banners with a distant smile. They were beautifully crafted, fit for a king, but they still paled in comparison to Finwë’s gift.
Melian sat long in silence beside Thingol the King, and her thought passed back into the starlit years and to their first meeting among the nightingales of Nan Elmoth in ages past; and she knew that her parting from Thingol was the forerunner of a greater parting, and that the doom of Doriath was drawing nigh.
ephal ephalak idon hi-akallabeth 