They Think They Had A Good Childhood

They think they had a good childhood

They think they had a good childhood. They don’t remember much of the Before; Elrond thinks he can remember their mother’s smile, Elros thinks she never smiled at them at all.

Maglor smiled at them. Elrond remembers him having a smile as bright as a forge-light, no matter how much his arms shook or his skin seemed to pull. He was the one who gave them lessons in arithmetic, made sure they knew all their letters.

He was always very strict on pronunciation. They never did understand why.

The weaving room was nice. It was quiet and the elves who lived there were kind, if slightly obsessed with their work. Maglor would play for them on the harp, fingers bleeding as he went though the history of his people over and over again.

Maglor would be Gone sometimes. The one time Elros asked him why, he smiled at him, ruffled his hair, and told him not to worry. 

“Do you remember the bad things I did? Well, His Highness and the Lieutenant are punishing me for it. That’s what happens to bad people, you see.” 

In hindsight he probably shouldn't have said that to children.

The Lieutenant visited them often. Sometimes he would just watch as Maglor played for them, eyes gleaming with a fey light. Other times he would bring them small gifts- sweets and shiny things and soft stuffed animals. Or he would teach them himself, voice rising in Song with Maglor’s accompaniment while they tried to copy him with shaking notes. They liked that the best because he would laugh and hug them and throw them into the air as they shrieked in delight whenever they were successful.

They saw His Highness once a month- the same time they saw Maedhros. They all had dinner on a monthly basis. Elrond and Elros made a game of trying to steal the meat off each other’s plates, the Lieutenant chuckling and occasionally surrendering his own if he was in a good mood.

They didn’t steal off Maglor’s plate. The one time Elrond had he almost vomited it was so over-salted. Maedhros never had nearly enough food to steal in the first place, and the very idea of trying to steal from His Highness made them feel sick.

His Highness was always nice to them, always interested in what they wanted to say. Better than Maedhros, who would always try and stop them eating, who would scream at Maglor and the Lieutenant and even His Highness. But Maedhros would also tell the best stories about his brothers, so he was alright.

They think they had a good childhood.

Agriculture in Angband

Elves are good with plants. They always have been- one of the first things they learnt at Cuivienen was how to sing to plants to yield their fruits. Ever have they been in tune with nature and the world around them.

And this is so useful for Angband,

Elves adore nature; everything from the smallest fungi to the largest tree. They cannot help but want to live among it. And Angband needs food for its army.

Being transferred to Agriculture is the ultimate goal for the elves of Angband. If they could just be better, more obedient, more productive, more loyal, then they have a slim chance of being able to be among nature again. Oh, they know it wouldn't really change anything about their situation, but it would make everything so much more bearable. They could live with it. They would put up with anything to be among nature again. They would do anything. And they do.

Angband has a remarkably docile agricultural sector. 

They might have been lesser, once.

They might have been lesser, once. In a time filled with blurry memories and bright sunshine. In a land adjacent, where they were never beset by orcs, never dragged into the deep and the dark, never forgot the sight of light and stars.

But that was nothing more than a dream to be clutched at in their darkest, most shameful moments.

They learn Song at the knees of the greatest elven minstrel, a forge-maia that could rival Eonwe in might, and the Dread-power Mighty Arising. They learn to Sing with the voices of the long-dead and not-yet-born, too many voices and not enough throats. Their skin cracks like a feathery mantle and their eyes flash with the predatory instincts of one who knows they are untouchable.

They eat better than most. Their teeth have sharpened in Angband and they have learnt how to use them. They sing their nails sharper and harder until they can claw and rip and tear. Their fingers pop and twist and bend as they stalk the labyrinthine hallways. 

Angband’s uncanny architecture has no effect on them. They grow up running around the halls; guided by a scratching in the base of their skull that blurs and warps their vision until the corridors re-align and set themselves in front of them in a neat ordered fashion. They learn to hide in the shadows while they do this; other elves dislike the many eyes they have to open, and orcs are not like the Lieutenant and His Highness and treat them like all the others.

They try not to get angry anymore. The last time they did, Elrond was angry at an obstinate patient and in his rage he sang their joints out as their bones cracked to the marrow and blood flowed like an oil spill. Something inside him sang with the thrill of the kill, prey crushed in the maw of a predator.

The Lieutenant had clutched him close and stroked his hair as Elrond sobbed into his chest.

It wouldn't have happened in another life. In another life his first kill would have been a rabbit that he and his brother had hunted. Maedhros would have congratulated them and Maglor would have skinned and cooked it for them all. In another life they didn’t know they could be anything other than elves, didn't know how to properly sing.

In another world they didn’t know what the Lieutenant’s voice sounded like as he sang to them, didn’t know how to creep along the edges of the shadows, didn’t know the sound of their fingers and neck cracking as they shifted their bone structure.

They might have been lesser, once.

Have you designed Fingolfin? Just curious!

I have!

Current WIP- angband au portrait. I feel like I've sold my soul for next day and a bit to work on this

A diagram of the some of the more common injuries among the elves of Angband. Longer explanation under the cut.

Elves working under Sauron directly often work either as healers or lab assistants or both, and that means they have to wash their hands a lot. This is done with soap with large amounts of caustic soda (lye) because Sauron 1. enjoys cleanliness 2. enjoys watching them wince as they do it.

Weavers/textile workers only develop calluses because they need to be kept happy so they can breed to supply more elves.

Agricultural workers get larger rations because agricultural work is not only physically demanding, its a reward for especially loyal elves, so extra rations are part of their ‘reward’ (they still aren't enough though). Because of the higher risk of infection, overseers are only allowed to use blunt force trauma as a punishment so there isn't a high turn-over rate.

Mining is the lowest position an elf can hold, and so comes with a variety of health problems. Overseers are authorised to whip/beat them, or break bones if they want to. Elves often develop severe lung conditions from toxic fumes or inhaling dust, and its very common to die that way. Miners are also intentionally denied water and food, so dying of dehydration or starvation is also common. It’s also the norm for miners to develop muscular/skeletal issues,

most overseers do not target the legs- an elf can work more with a bad arm than a bad leg.

None of this applies to elves in the throne room. They exist purely at Morgoth’s whim.