This is so long and incoherent I apologise in advance fucking hell
— the way this fic penetrated me in every hole, including the hole in my head, just cannot be understated. I am so glad I read this in chunks as you wrote it because having just re-read it in one sitting I know full well I would just be a hole with legs if I read it for the first time in one sitting.
— the structural brilliance here is just fucking insane. The chorus, the fragments, the rocking-back-and-forth effect in the middle, memory, hallucination, political calculation and the most surprising moments of total cogency is just. whew. “Time had ended and the world would very soon’ — the expectation that temporal perception itself has become unreliable and WHEW do you DELIVER
— the chorus itself is just so. fantastic. fully masterclass sophistication levels, I can still hear it when i’m walking around in Tesco. “Faceless ranks, unadorned” whewwwwwwwwww. “In the land of the dead, the living cannot be suffered to live” why don’t you just come to my house and beat me to death :D also the bit where the women go “tell us what we must sing, son of Feanaro”, the role of his own mind in the continuation of the torment, ow, wow, ow.
— Fingolfin is phenomenal here, the kind of principled ruthlessness that I’m chomping at the bit over. Political necessity as both weapon and shield, oh boy oh boy oh boy.
— I’ve said this to you before but I love the list making, and just how fucking sardonic my guy is even when talking to himself in his own head. Chasing his tail in a way. And just his internal conversations re: political liability = personal identity, very much struck home in a ton of ways.
— names as a recurring motif, obsessed, especially with Fingolfin and Maitimo. I always love to read Maedhros (especially post Thangodorim) as having a complex relationship with the name and I’m sooo delighted you picked at this thread as well
— you KNOW what I think of the club bit. You know it. I think everyone should send Maedhros to the club. Also the guy’s tongue “plundering” Maedhros’ mouth, your descriptions are fantastic at any point but the club scene was particularly fucking amazing whew. I was there. I WAS THERE I TELL YOU.
— the crown itself as psychological anchor but also a kind of torment in the corner of his eye, both illumination and distortion, and that was EXACTLY what I was hoping for when doing the crown for the art as a sort of ‘broken but way too fucking shiny’ thing ygm
— I love the budgie. The budgie could shit in my mental cage any day.
— I obviously wax poetic about your prose on a normal Sunday let alone this one but let me once again say how fucking much I am obsessed with just. The remarkable range here. Shifting across here and there from elevated, liturgical language to raw physicality to clipped, analytic political calculation. The linguistic complexity all over is just something that puts me in a whole ass blender, and I’m just so in love with how you do it. I also really adore how you move between intimate psychological observation + grand political theatre, the tonal control is chef’s fucking kiss. Shifting seamlessly (except where the seams are very intended and ripping apart) between private anguish to public speeches laden with said private anguish. The lines blurred so so so interestingly.
— "Generosity would reap dividends, or so the theory went. It had not borne out in practice so far." SKSKSKSKSKKS truly I enjoy the side hopping between theory and reality in the political aspects of this fiction… the idea of being trapped in a performance of recovery and competence with every gesture = political weight. “All in the name, dear boy” — MAITIMO AGAINNNNN I fucking loved this. Maedhros’ appearance being a battlefield of both interpretation and manipulation. Twiddles all my nipples thank you this was perfect.
— crown as a vessel for hereditary violence <—— I wrote this in my notes just. Literally in pink highlighter with stars. I didn’t write why I loved it so much but the little stars and flowers make the point I think.
— one of my absolute favourite aspects of this piece is just how wonderfully you demonstrate the way in which Maedhros’ experience in Angband disrupts linear experience… the council scene especially, the flashback. Fucking hell, I felt trapped in his dissociative experience myself… also HELP THE ORC DIALOGUE CRYING ‘how the fuck do we get him up there’ is something that always is in the back of my mind when it comes to bro and Thangodorim
— we’ve spoken about this already but your portrayal of Morgoth’s specific brand of psychological warfare is just. Fucking phenomenal man. “Maybe just maybe it wasn’t Morgoth who whispered it to him but Maedhros whispering it to the night”, that confusion, the ambiguity between external and internal voice, the role of the chorus but also the ‘warped’ voices of others, the internalisation of the tormentor’s perspective until the self itself is ragged. Fucking helllllll this just. This alone makes me want to reread this fic another ten times (with breaks in between….)
— the broader context of masculinity, also turning the general idea of ‘sexual healing’ into a fraught negotiation where pleasure+trauma are inextricably linked, the way you write it, the way Maedhros’ experience of sexuality post Thangodorim offering something touched by Morgoth yet remaining beyond his comprehension…. And a child of Morgoth as a sexual insult, fucking hellllllllllll Mike. Wonderful shit. Perfect, painful as hell.
— I said before how the other man inside me thing has just sat in me in. Whew. Just in so many ways. The wrong turn on the stair, looking in the corner quick enough. I repeat, this version of Maedhros is frankly the most psychologically sophisticated treatment of trauma in Tolkien I’ve ever come crossed. The final chapter just… really drives this home, the systematic destructions of relationships coming to their culmination, the unconscious orchestration of their own abandonment. The last few years of his life, an extended suicide note essentially. Fucking hellllllllllll sorry I keep typing that but believe me when I say that’s 99% of my thoughts rn
— I am really especially keen you had that bit at the final chapter nudging at the relationship between religious authority and political power, re: venerating the Valar vs rejecting them as Feanor did… and made me think a lot about political movements manipulating the idea of both sacred and ‘unholy’ to justify what are ostensibly, er, secular ambitions… the king’s spiritual master as Manwe etc etc, and Ingwe and matters unspiritual etc etc, again, fantastic capturing of the convenient compartmentalisation therein…..
— just a fucking hands throwing up emoji moment for Z Balls at that final speech… demagogic rhetoric at its best, I could fucking see the guy doing it right there. Saving the soul of Endor…. The offering something for everyone whilst committing to nothing specific. ‘Vast and intangible ideas that are prettier through flame and gold in the dark than they are under aliens cold and impartial light’…. devastating (looking at world rn…) in ways I can’t really put words to rn
—- The Russingon bit was SO interesting to me as well… I was specially struck by the way Maedhros was simultaneously genuine in his attraction *and* calculating in his deployment of said attraction… my favourite Russingon vibe I swear. Also Maedhros treating Fingon’s attraction to him as natural, the emotional numbness towards the desire he inspires, the viewing of it as tribute instead of true intimacy…. Really bit a hole in me again, right where it hurts whewwww. Also loved the insights re: Fingon’s spoiled youth, such a complicated Russingon (my fave sksksk) where it’s neither all out exploitation OR genuine adoration. Wonderful stuff!!!!
— and that final section on suicide. Fucking hell, yes. The absolute top tier element of this story (which is saying something!). Where self-destruction isn’t an inevitable result of despair but the very complex phenomena you’ve unravelled across the story, the social conditions *and* the individual torment.
— What society makes Maedhros Feanorian possible? A sick one. SCREAMING SOBBING. Precious jewels, again that return to masculinity/femininity, where Maedhros as a queer man functions as an ornamental possession whose value depends on their inaccessibility. The influence of classical tragedy throughout this, its culmination here. The final image of him, the odd little man and the chorus of ghosts. Never am I going to forget that image!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS MAEDHROS. Dickhead prince, psychological reality of trauma, mythically resonant figure embodying the contradictions of his society. ITS HIM. ITS SO FUCKING HIM :D
Okay this is it from me for now but believe me when I say I will probably going to be coming back to this at random points across my life and spotting something or the other that has me rolling over. Just astounded overall, honestly the best Silm fic I’ve read. Thank you ever so much for writing this, really both skewered me and made my mind just. Fizzle. Everything I dreamed of and more when drawing the sulky fucker in a brocade dressing gown glaring at the crown. Amazing amazing amazing stuff.
(Also fucking hell I loved how you wrote Curufin and Celebrimbor in this. Weird children and their freak ass dads are my softest spots)
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timelessutterances on Chapter 5 Sun 07 Sep 2025 04:57PM UTC
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