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Oh, this is so good. First of all, I love the idea of Argon as a painter -- I feel like it's an art which, strangely, doesn't get much said about it compared to carving, architecture, jewelcraft, weaving, etc. In a way, it feels appropriate, like how we know the Romans loved their paintings, but vanishingly few survive. 

And, of course, it's crushingly sad! Wonderful stuff. 

Thanks very much! I fell in love with Argon as a painter last summer, when writing The Music of Sight for Scribbles and Drabbles. Now he just won't leave me alone. He's so ephemeral, in canon, it felt right to give him a more ephemeral craft. Very glad to hear that it worked for you, too. And mwahaha yes, I'm crushing you, I'm crushing you...oh, Arko :(

Ooh, I loved this fic! Argon as a daydreamer and an artist is a lovely portrayal. My favourite part was probably when Fingon sees his face reflected in moonlight- a powerful scene that has a lot of emotion and pictures the arrival of the moon and the new era so cleverly. There is something special in the atmosphere of this fic, well done.

What a loss!

You convey all that painterly wonder and also the grief and horror of it.

And it adds a specially painful twist that Argon was the one to help Fingon after Alqualonde, but Fingon cannot help him now.

Alas for Fingon indeed, yet I think maybe not so much for the sensitive soul that is his brother — he experiences the world so much more intensely, in such fine detail, I think life in Beleriand would have crunched him up and spat him out bitter, or mad, or both. But then again, there are all those years of the watchful peace which is but a few lines in the book, so maybe alas for dear Argon to miss out on the magic that was Beleriand. Either way, your Argon is now cemented firmly in my head canon and I love him fiercely and want to get to know him more.