works of feanor

Fëanorian Week - Curufin (Father's Favorite)

Summary: Forging was always a time for thought, and speculation.
Length: 799 words (I kid you not)
Characters: Fëanor, Curufin
Tags: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Forge Work, Childhood, Fëanor,
Fëanorian Week Prompts: Forge Work, Childhood, Fëanor

The hammer was raised once more and the iron glinted dully in the forge-light before it dropped with a resonating ‘CLANG!’ The loud noise did nothing to jar Curufin, who had long since adjusted to the sounds of a busy forge. He wiped his nose with the back of a gloved hand and attempted to rub a smudge of what he knew to be soot off of his pale cheek. After a good couple moments of rubbing his jaw red, he decided that his face would probably never truly be clean of soot anyways and stopped, before raising the hammer again. It hit the glowing sword on the anvil with another ‘CLANG!’ and several white sparks shot away from the brown-haired elf’s metalwork, a couple landing on his leather apron and dimming.

Curufin paused in his work, setting the hammer aside and dunking the slowly-forming sword in a bucket of cold water. Steam hissed before the glowing sword adopted a less luminescent gray, and Curufin tucked the wisps of hair he hadn’t managed to capture in his ponytail behind his ear. When at last he deemed the sword to be cooled sufficiently, the tall elf lifted the sword from the now warm water to glance over the edges. Lost in thought though he may have been, the strokes of the hammer had been evenly distributed, and so the sword’s edge was even. 

Someone hummed approvingly from behind him and Curufin whirled around, automatically swinging the half-formed weapon. The still-hot metal collided with his father’s blade and Curufin’s blade was knocked out of his hand and across the floor. They stood in silence for a few moments before Fëanor motioned towards the blunted blade with a small frown and Curufin bowed his head, retrieving it. Without a word, he handed it to his father.

Keep reading

I really, reaaaally wanted to have my fic in printed version and so I tried to make a book of it. I’m very content with what I got as a result. The story inside is my Maedhros-recovery fic, thus the pattern on the cover.

I printed parts of the story in 2xA5 format, so I that I could do it on my home printer. I sewed the pages

and then the parts together

then went green pages at the back and front

My first attempt to make a cover with fabric glued to thick paper failed, so I decided to stick to paper. The cover image (Feanorean star mixed with Fingolfin’s emblem) was printed and then covered with silver and gold paint.

I’ve been unable to draw for a few days now, being very busy with freelance work and personal stuff, so I felt like showing off this yet unpublished wip of my Maedhros. I am terrified at how much I love him and my color pencils…

What would you have me draw next in this style, and what color paper?🙃


Sometimes I think we underestimate how important Miriel is. We attribute a lot of Feanor’s characterization to Finwe. We say he has “daddy issues”. We tend to portray a lot of his personality as something inherited from his father in one way or another. His mother isn’t brought up as often, it occasionally seems.

Miriel makes up so much of Feanor’s identity. Her name is his name. He’s even used as an example in the part of LaCE where the Noldorin concept of linguistic and personal identity is discussed:

“But every child among the Noldor (in which point, maybe, they differed from the other Eldar) had also the right to name himself or herself. Now the first ceremony, the announcement of the father-name, was called the Essecarme or ‘Name-making’. Later there was another ceremony called the Essecilme or ’Name-choosing’. This took place at no fixed date after the Essecarme, but could not take place before the child was deemed ready and capable of lamatyave, as the Noldor called it: that is, of individual pleasure in the sounds and forms of words. The Noldor were of all the Eldar the swiftest in acquiring word-mastery; but even among them few before at least the seventh year had become fully aware of their own individual lamatyave, or had gained a complete mastery of the inherited language and its structure, so as to express this tyave skilfully within its limits. The Essecilme, therefore, the object of which was the expression of this personal characteristic,’ usually took place at or about the end of the tenth year. (…)

* This lamatyave was held a mark of individuality, and more important indeed than others, such as stature, colour, and features of face. (…)

Renowned examples of these things are found in the early histories. Thus Finwe, first lord of the Noldor, first named his eldest son Finwion; but later when his talent was revealed this was modified to Curufinwe. But the name of insight which his mother Miriel gave to him in the hour of birth was Feanaro 'Spirit  of  Fire’; and by this name he became known to all, and he is so called in all the histories. (It is said that he also took this name as his chosen name, in honour of his mother, whom he never saw.)”

To the Noldor, language is identity. It’s more important than any other facet of identity. Feanor identifies himself with Miriel so much that his chosen name, which represents his understanding of himself, is the one Miriel gave him.
He identifies with her so much that he calls himself “son of Miriel”. Consider how unusual it is for someone to name themself their mother’s child, specifically. How many other elves can you think of who identify themselves that way? As the heir of their mother rather than just as the heir of their father?

He identifies with her so much that his very speech patterns revolve around her. I’ve seen some people characterize him as resistant to linguistic change in general, but his resistance is to one change in particular, and that resistance is a “shibboleth”. It’s a social and personal identifier. It shows everyone who he is, and that is his mother’s heir.

And Feanor was most like his mother as a child, in appearance and personality, but even as he grew and became more like Finwe his personality remained most like hers. Miriel is described as incredibly strong-willed more than once, and is said to be the type of person who makes their words a law unto themselves. Feanor gets his incredible will from her; he’s her “Spirit of Fire”. Finwe may be fiery - he is a Noldo - but it’s never made sense to me to attribute this quality of Feanor’s to him alone. It feels almost like discrediting Miriel.

Likewise it seems usual to assume that Feanor’s issues with the Valar are entirely his own, but I don’t think that’s the case. After Miriel’s death, the Valar debate who is more at fault: Miriel for leaving her family, or Finwe for not waiting for her forever. Feanor doesn’t seem inclined to blame either of his parents. Nor does he seem to entirely blame Indis, though he obviously doesn’t like her or her children. No, he blames the Valar. The Valar who decided that no elf may have more than one spouse living and thereby doomed Miriel to eternal death. The Valar who would prevent her from returning to life with her family, who will always prevent her from being with Finwe again no matter what. The Valar who sentenced someone to imprisonment unending for being tired, and another to the same for being lonely, both of them separated against their will until the end of the world.

So often we only see Feanor as fighting for his own personal freedom, but that’s not all of it. He’s fighting for Miriel’s freedom; For her rights, for her choices. It was her choice to be called “Therinde” rather than “Serinde”, and Feanor would see that choice respected. He would tear himself apart, he would die, before he allowed anyone to violate her rights.

I just have a lot of feelings about this, okay?

Sketching again because my mind is exploding with drawings of Fëanor and I can’t get over it before I get it all out! 😁 This is him as a young elf and his future wife Nerdanel playing around in the fountain, so I hope it’ll work out somehow! 😊

After a ridiculous number of failed attempts, I have finally managed to get the colors working on Feanor. I suppose it’s entirely in character for him to be the most difficult to draw ever, having successfully displaced the previous title holder (Sauron).

That said, I am ridiculously pleased with how this came out. Tried several new things in this one, and they basically all worked, which was nice. Shown here with gloriosa lillies, because of all the flowers I looked through when planning Project: Draw ALL The Elves, they were the ones that looked most like fire. And. Well.


‘The Grief of Maglor’

Finally got around to finishing this…hopefully the print and the rest of my work will be displayed tomorrow night at my Senior Thesis Show T^T)/


I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this painting. It has been a while since I’ve felt this utter and complete happiness while working in a piece. Even with the anatomical flaws, I can’t but love it with my entire heart! It’s so beautiful, and somehow I manage the painting with a surprising control I’ve never had before, so this is all very overwhelming!

I hope you like it as much as me, and I’m pretty sure I’ll continue to post updates as I go along! 🤓

Today I suddenly decided that the Sons of Fëanor really need to have mobster names

  • Nelyafinwë “Lefty” Maitimo
  • Kanafinwë “Mags” Makalaurë 
  • Turcafinwë “Mad Dog” Tyelcormo 
  • Morifinwë “Bruno” Carnistir 
  • Curufinwë “Junior” Atarinkë 
  • Pityafinwë “Lucky” Ambarussa
  • Telufinwë “Baby Face” Ambarussa


In the space of 5 days I’ve painted so much, which before would take several weeks and hours of frustration, this process has been nothing but fun and experimental!

I’ve learned a lot and I can’t wait to finish my dear Maedhros, and start my next son-painting!

Pre-Flight of the Noldor

Melkor: psssst. fëanor.
Fëanor: …. what.
Melkor: The Valar are crap amirite.
Fëanor: You are a Vala.
Melkor: Right? And I’m a huge dickhead.
Fëanor: What is your point?
Melkor: Just sayin’.
Fëanor: Go away.
Melkor: Whatever, dork.


When you see this, share 3 lines from a WIP

Nerdanel snuggled closer to Fëanáro, tucking her head under his chin, her ear against his chest, enjoying the rumble of his voice and the beat of his heart. He smelled of the sea warmed by body heat, making her feel pleasantly drowsy and safe. It would not take much to push her contentment onto a more urgently physical plane, but she was in no hurry.  


One hour left in 2014!

Figured I should post the last thing I worked on this year.

I drew Feanor again today for the family tree portrait n just practice.

Idk if I’ll ever stop drawing this loser

Also more progress on feanorians pic, particularly on maglor and caranthir.

I’ll see u guys in 2015! *w*)/