Again, About How The Legendarium Begins And Ends In Fire...

At some point in the third age

Galadriel: I am the last member of the house of finwë on these shores. My brothers, my cousins, my uncles; everyone who came here with me is long gone. I am my family's last survivor.

Meanwhile Maglor on the shore:

Galadriel: Sometimes I can still here their voices

Family Happiness

Evening had fallen upon Tyrion, but Finwë's chambers were alive with light. The king listened with delight to young Macalaurë's new work, a quiet but surprisingly profound motif that spoke of longing for distant lands and the majesty of Aman. Finwë, now free to consider himself a musical expert, was immensely proud that his grandson could express his feelings so skilfully through melody.

Next to him sat Maitimo, the eldest of the grandchildren. He studied the map intently, tracing the winding lines of the roads with his finger. Plans and dreams of wanderlust stirred his thoughts, and Finwë smiled warmly at the eagerness in the eyes of a grandson who knew the world only through stories.

Finwë felt at the pinnacle of happiness. His son, Feanaro, had found someone who shared his passion and thoughts, and now, sitting on the terrace with Nerdanel, they quietly discussed plans for a new journey through Aman, where every corner held ancient wisdom and every stone held its secrets. They planned to visit places hidden even from prying eyes, ancient rock formations to which they were both drawn as craftsmen and creators.

But the king suspected there was more to these plans. Feanaro's eyes shone with the same brilliance as they had years ago when he first met Nerdanel. Though they discussed routes, Finwë noticed how their voices sometimes fell silent, and the same spark that ignited when someone dear to him was near.

As if chuckling to himself, Finwë wondered if he might soon have a new grandson.

(insp)

Thingol hating on Maedhros is so crazy hilarious to me because imagine beefing with your bestfriend's grandson

Anyone else: the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood.

Elros and Elrond: But they cradled me, yes?

(Credits to @queen-of-hobgobblers )

Tolkien writing kingdoms' moral decay and eventual decline: they exploited nature, destroyed forests and cut down trees

Tolkien writing male characters' moral decay and eventual decline: he stopped listening to his wife

Of the stayed and the departed.

Finrod's dagger was canonically forged by Fëanor which means that on top of Celebrimbor using Fëanor's hammer to forge the Three Elven Rings, Fëanor's work is contained within the Three Elven Rings- and the dagger itself tells the story of Fëanor's greatest work and some of Valinor's history...

AND The Three Elven Rings represent the three Silmarils and their final resting places: Nenya representing Maglor's Silmaril resting in the ocean, Narya representing Maedhros' Silmaril resting in a fiery chasm, and Vilya representing Eärendil's Silmaril, resting in the sky.

Fëanor is quite literally weaving everyone together... like his mother Miriel.

What has become of you ...?