Tag: thingol

The Nauglamir

cycas:

I see a lot of reasonable speculation about what it is that drew people to desire the Silmarils, even when it might seem unwise.  

Now there are situations where people genuinely seem to want a Silmaril: mostly, Feanor, whose Oath is all about Silmarils of course (rather oddly, since we are told he valued his father more highly than them).   I don’t count Thingol: I don’t think Thingol wanted a Silmaril originally, I think he wanted Beren to disappear. 

But consider that the Silmaril of Doriath was set into the Nauglamir.   The Nauglamir, whose owner had been slain while Sauron’s prisoner.  Which was part of a dragon-hoard, owned by Glaurung.  The Nauglamir which was cursed with a dying curse by Mîm, and delivered to Doriath by Hurin, who had been personally cursed by Morgoth himself. 

It might not be the Silmaril alone that brought doom on Doriath and the Havens.

If the Nauglamir had never come to Doriath, Thingol probably would not have died: the dwarves of Nogrod might not have been there, and if they had, they would not have killed him.  The Girdle would not have fallen. The House of Feanor would not be able to attack Doriath (they were able to attack because the Girdle was gone), and so would never have attacked the Havens of Sirion.   

I think the Nauglamir is an important part of the ‘why not give the Silmaril to the Sons of Feanor’ discussion too: it’s not easy to give away gold under the dragon-spell… 

If the Nauglamir had never come to Doriath, then I think Doriath with its Silmaril and Maia queen would have been the last elf-kingdom standing: the Feanorian remnant would presumably have been wiped out, along eventually with the remains of the Edain, and Gondolin. 

I suppose the question then is whether the Valar would ever have come to the aid of Middle-earth.

rose-of-the-bright-sea:

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.