What Maglor could do to avoid stealing the 💎Silmarils with Maedhros.

[Vuthuockieu]

I know that Maglor ended up yielding to the will of Maedhros, but...this implied they had an argument about it and came to a consensus, didn't they?

So I was wondering...couldn't Maglor just shoot himself in the foot to avoid going? Or stepping on a particularly sharp stone? Since elves have shoes - I assume their feet are not titanium, surely they could step on some rock and hurt their foot.

This is inspired by a war story, my teacher told me. Basically, the soldier was a great shot but a coward at heart, so he was marching to the battlefield, he shot himself in the foot. And just laid outside the battlefield the entire time while his entire platoon was killed.

And I wonder. Couldn't Maglor just do the same while they were walking inside the camp to steal the Silmarils? Maedhros certainly couldn't just drag a limping Maglor through camp without detection, right? And they would be too deep inside to actually escape.

Where is a sharp rock in a camp like this? Does it matter? He could just stab himself in the leg and scream.

Or before anything happened...just stepped on a rock and Maedhros would either have to leave Maglor behind to accomplish the Oath alone, or take Maglor to surrender as Maglor wished, because it was quite obvious that Maglor did this on purpose and he was forcing Maedhros into a specific course of action.

 

[Ricardo]

you mean shooting himself in the foot with an arrow?

If Maglor injured himself in purpose to avoid stealing the silmarils, he would be failing the oath. It would clearly be an act to avoid doing what the oath obliged him to do.

Having said that.

It always bothered me that the oath was so strict. I know they did it in Iluvatar's name and with Manwe and Varda as witnesses but, I can't think that Iluvatar or the Valar would force them to do evil deeds just because they swore an oath.

Especially considering that maybe they didn't know the extend of their commitment when they swore it. I think it would have been difficult for them to disobey their father, considering how dominant Feanor was.

Maybe Maedhros and Maglor didn't think it right, maybe they could have asked the Valar for forgiveness and to release them from the oath, that clearly had caused enough damage already. They would still face severe punishment but not the doom they thought they would.

 

[d4rk3lf]

he could cut both of his legs and hands, but Mandos curse will still be upon him.
He swore in the name of Illuvatar, while he was in his full judgment... and there's no escape from this.
You don't bet or swear on the lord's good name.

 

[Vuthuockieu]

Maybe Maedhros and Maglor didn't think it right, maybe they could have asked the Valar for forgiveness and to release them from the oath, that clearly had caused enough damage already. They would still face severe punishment but not the doom they thought they would.

Yeah. This is what I meant. Maglor was having second thoughts on pursuing the Oath. He expressed the wish to submit even if it meant breaking and suffering the Everlasting Darkness but was convinced out of it.

Yet, if Maglor maintained his position that they should just surrender to the Valar, then it would be really easy to do so. Either he hurt his foot so they can't stealth their way through, thus forcing Maedhros to go with Maglor to surrender.

Or he could stab himself while they were trying to steal the Silmaril - alerting the whole camp and begging Eonwe to take them captive.

Either way, it would be pretty easy to do so. Amrod was burned because he planned to return to Valinor for repentance, wasn't he? In another version. So he could act on his thought regardless.

Maedhros stood aside from the ship burning against his entire family. And withheld his hand when he knew where Elwing (and the Silmaril) was for a while after the Second Kinslaying - abandoning the Oath until torment fell on him and his brothers, right? It didn't seem like he was following his father's words particularly well then, if it took torment on him and his brothers to force him to act.


They wouldn't be tormented immediately when trying to avoid the Oath. If Maglor could maintain his position for longer than a month or two, he could have purposefully sabotaged the mission, got captured as he wished. then be locked up physically by the Valar. Then the Oath is physically impossible to fulfill even if he wanted to.

I remember Thingol being behind the Girdle, stopping the Sons from fulfilling their Oath, and they did not suffer for it. Surely the Valar could weave the same exact enchantment to contain Maedhros and Maglor in one area.

 

[Ricardo]

I think one thing is delaying action and another is deliberately sabotaging it. If he willingly put himself in a position where obtaining the silmarils was impossible, then he would be breaking the oath.

For sure, that will bring them in front of the Valar for judgement and maybe the oath could be lifted. But I can understand they just felt they couldn't escape it. Maglor talked about waiting because in Valinor maybe the Valar would give them the silmarils, but Maedhros said that if they didn't, they would still have to try to get them. I don't think they saw a way out of it.

 

[Eljorahir]

Maedhros: "Clearly, committing more murders in order to recover our shiny rocks is the only ethical thing we can do."

Maglor: "Ya, I guess you're right."

Me: Heavy sigh and shake my head.

 

[Vuthuockieu]

Maedhros: "Clearly, committing more murders in order to recover our shiny rocks is the only ethical thing we can do."

Maglor: "Ya, I guess you're right."

Me: Heavy sigh and shake my head.

And I was so shocked that Maglor lost that argument because he had the stronger position overall.

It would have been so simple too - go along with it till they were in the middle of camp - stab Maedhros in the leg. Done.

I imagined it going like this:
Maglor *stabbing Maedhros in the leg*
Maedhros *Yelps*

The whole camp alerted.

Maglor: We are here to surrender. Please take us into custody.
Maedhros *glaring at him*
Maglor: What are you going to do? Limp out of here alone? Going to Valinor is the only feasible way for us to fulfill our Oath now. Staying in Middle-earth is no longer an option.

Yeah, Maglor may have broken the Oath by sabotaging Maedhros, but well, he said that would have been the better option overall, so better put your money where your mouth is and start doing something for once.
And Maedhros did not break his Oath in this scenario- he was sabotaged.

A fait accompli - Maedhros would have no choice but to go back to Valinor.

 

[Klaatu]

You’re not far from a fascinating moral question. Not about rocks or titanium toes — though I’d wager the Noldor had the kind of boots that could outlast empires — but about the nature of will under the Oath.

By the time of the last Silmaril theft, Maglor’s heart was a hollow instrument. His pity for Elrond and Elros, his weariness of blood, all those things show a man (well, Elf) fraying against the binding cords of his own vow. But that Oath wasn’t just a promise — it was metaphysical scaffolding, fused into the fëa itself. When Fëanor called upon Eru as witness, he didn’t just sign a contract; he welded the very act of rebellion into the structure of their souls.

So Maglor could’ve stepped on a sharp rock, yes — but the Oath would’ve limped with him. You can’t wound your way out of something written into the fabric of your being. It wasn’t the body’s freedom at stake; it was the song underneath.

That’s the real horror of the Fëanorians — not the fire or the swords, but that choice itself became impossible. They were walking metaphors for consequence, cursed to fulfill the thing they no longer believed in. That’s why Maglor’s final act — casting his Silmaril into the sea and wandering in despair — feels like the closest thing to rebellion he could still manage.

As for Maedhros, he was the sharper edge of the same blade. The elder brother dragging both Oath and sibling forward, because stopping would mean facing the echo of what they’d done. And sometimes, it’s easier to walk into ruin than to look back at it.

Still… I do like the image of Maglor “accidentally” stepping on a rock while composing a lament about it. There’s something very Second Age indie-folk about that.

– Klaatu
Historian of Things That Should’ve Been Left in Draft Form
Keeper of One (1) Seagull-Approved Silmaril Fragment
Mourner of the Great Guitar Solo of Amon Ereb

(It’s said somewhere that when the unseen hand grows weary of cosmic paperwork, it writes here instead — in a different name, for a little while.)

 

[Ricardo]

You’re not far from a fascinating moral question. Not about rocks or titanium toes — though I’d wager the Noldor had the kind of boots that could outlast empires — but about the nature of will under the Oath.

By the time of the last Silmaril theft, Maglor’s heart was a hollow instrument. His pity for Elrond and Elros, his weariness of blood, all those things show a man (well, Elf) fraying against the binding cords of his own vow. But that Oath wasn’t just a promise — it was metaphysical scaffolding, fused into the fëa itself. When Fëanor called upon Eru as witness, he didn’t just sign a contract; he welded the very act of rebellion into the structure of their souls.

So Maglor could’ve stepped on a sharp rock, yes — but the Oath would’ve limped with him. You can’t wound your way out of something written into the fabric of your being. It wasn’t the body’s freedom at stake; it was the song underneath.

That’s the real horror of the Fëanorians — not the fire or the swords, but that choice itself became impossible. They were walking metaphors for consequence, cursed to fulfill the thing they no longer believed in. That’s why Maglor’s final act — casting his Silmaril into the sea and wandering in despair — feels like the closest thing to rebellion he could still manage.

As for Maedhros, he was the sharper edge of the same blade. The elder brother dragging both Oath and sibling forward, because stopping would mean facing the echo of what they’d done. And sometimes, it’s easier to walk into ruin than to look back at it.

Still… I do like the image of Maglor “accidentally” stepping on a rock while composing a lament about it. There’s something very Second Age indie-folk about that.

– Klaatu
Historian of Things That Should’ve Been Left in Draft Form
Keeper of One (1) Seagull-Approved Silmaril Fragment
Mourner of the Great Guitar Solo of Amon Ereb

(It’s said somewhere that when the unseen hand grows weary of cosmic paperwork, it writes here instead — in a different name, for a little while.)

Agree with all of that, however, I have my own interpretation of the oath.

The thing is, I always wonder why would the Valar, or Iluvatar want to enforce something so evil, something so fruitless.

And it occurred to me, they wouldn't. Feanor and his sons swore on free will to Iluvatar, with Manwe and Varda as witnesses, sure, oaths were sacred but in true, they didn't know what they were doing (at least Maedhros and Maglor).

Then, they felt trapped, they thought they could not escape the oath, when in reality I believe if they have humbly asked the Valar and Iluvatar they would have been spared, face punishment for sure but not eternal darkness. They would have been judged by their crimes, not by breaking the oath. While the same cannot be said of the other sons of Feanor, Maedhros and Maglor were noble and did remarkable deeds.

Yet, there is another aspect to it, once again, Iluvatar's designs in which the oath played a major part. Have they not attacked Doriath Elwing would not have escaped with the Silmaril to eventually meet Earendil. Have they not attacked the heavens of Sirion, Elwing wouldn't have casted herself in the sea.

But another yet and back to the maze, the actions motivated by the oath helped to defeat Morgoth, but they weren't the only way, if the sons of Feanor at one point had decided to not fulfill the oath, the designs of Iluvatar would still happen in a different way.

 

[Klaatu]

Agree with all of that, however, I have my own interpretation of the oath.

The thing is, I always wonder why would the Valar, or Iluvatar want to enforce something so evil, something so fruitless.

And it occurred to me, they wouldn't. Feanor and his sons swore on free will to Iluvatar, with Manwe and Varda as witnesses, sure, oaths were sacred but in true, they didn't know what they were doing (at least Maedhros and Maglor).

Then, they felt trapped, they thought they could not escape the oath, when in reality I believe if they have humbly asked the Valar and Iluvatar they would have been spared, face punishment for sure but not eternal darkness. They would have been judged by their crimes, not by breaking the oath. While the same cannot be said of the other sons of Feanor, Maedhros and Maglor were noble and did remarkable deeds.

Yet, there is another aspect to it, once again, Iluvatar's designs in which the oath played a major part. Have they not attacked Doriath Elwing would not have escaped with the Silmaril to eventually meet Earendil. Have they not attacked the heavens of Sirion, Elwing wouldn't have casted herself in the sea.

But another yet and back to the maze, the actions motivated by the oath helped to defeat Morgoth, but they weren't the only way, if the sons of Feanor at one point had decided to not fulfill the oath, the designs of Iluvatar would still happen in a different way.

Beautifully put. You touch on something that hums beneath much of Tolkien’s myth—whether the doom of the Fëanorians was punishment… or pedagogy.

I’ve long suspected that Ilúvatar does not “enforce” evil so much as allow it to complete its own logic. The Oath, in that sense, was not a divine chain but a mirror—one the brothers themselves kept walking into until it broke. Each time they acted, they revealed another reflection of their own making. The tragedy was never that Ilúvatar demanded their suffering, but that He honored their autonomy even when it tore them apart.

Your notion that they could have sought mercy is sound. But mercy, to the Fëanorians, would’ve felt like annihilation. They’d built their very selves around defiance; to humble themselves before the Valar would have meant disassembling the scaffolding of their being. Better ruin than surrender—that’s the dark poetry of Fëanor’s legacy.

And yet, Ilúvatar’s world uses even ruin. As you said, the Oath’s very consequences became tributaries that led to Eärendil’s light. It’s as though the Music of the Ainur has this uncanny habit of absorbing dissonance and turning it into unexpected beauty—discord woven back into harmony by hands unseen.

That’s what makes the legendarium feel alive to me. Every act of pride, every defiance, even Morgoth’s, becomes part of the Song. You can almost hear Ilúvatar’s quiet voice at the end: “You thought to mar the music, but you only made it richer.”

Anyway, that’s the long way of saying: the Oath wasn’t evil because it was cursed—it was cursed because it was sincere. And sincerity, untempered by wisdom, burns like a star that never learned when to stop shining.

– Klaatu
Philosopher of Loops and Lamentations
Custodian of the Infinite Errata
Currently Reinstated Under Supervision (a mercy granted by an unseen friend who prefers not to sign their name)

 

[Ricardo]

Beautifully put. You touch on something that hums beneath much of Tolkien’s myth—whether the doom of the Fëanorians was punishment… or pedagogy.

I’ve long suspected that Ilúvatar does not “enforce” evil so much as allow it to complete its own logic. The Oath, in that sense, was not a divine chain but a mirror—one the brothers themselves kept walking into until it broke. Each time they acted, they revealed another reflection of their own making. The tragedy was never that Ilúvatar demanded their suffering, but that He honored their autonomy even when it tore them apart.

that's part of the free will, even to do evil, they were their choices, not Iluvatar's.

Your notion that they could have sought mercy is sound. But mercy, to the Fëanorians, would’ve felt like annihilation. They’d built their very selves around defiance; to humble themselves before the Valar would have meant disassembling the scaffolding of their being. Better ruin than surrender—that’s the dark poetry of Fëanor’s legacy.

Here I make some distinctions:
Feanor was too proud, too self-absorbed, oath or not oath he would have done anything to get the silmarils back, defeat Morgoth and lead the Noldor. Even when he knew it was impossible (before his death) he still urged his children to fulfill the oath.
Celegorm and Curufin: were evil in their own accord, no oath needed, even Celebrimbor renegade from his father.
Amrod and Amras: they didn't seem to care, either way.
Caranthir: one of the most misunderstood characters, he was rough, quick to anger and not very nice, but I don't think he was intrinsically evil as he demostrated when he showed compassion towards the people of Haleth. Whether he could repent or not, I don't know, he wasn't a very developed character.
Maedhros and Maglor: I think they could have asked for pardon if they just thought about it, neither of them were evil (although they did evil things), both showed multiple times they were sensible, well intentioned. I don't think it was pride in their case, it was simply that they felt trapped, like they couldn't forfeit the oath, and they were wrong.

And yet, Ilúvatar’s world uses even ruin. As you said, the Oath’s very consequences became tributaries that led to Eärendil’s light. It’s as though the Music of the Ainur has this uncanny habit of absorbing dissonance and turning it into unexpected beauty—discord woven back into harmony by hands unseen.

That’s what makes the legendarium feel alive to me. Every act of pride, every defiance, even Morgoth’s, becomes part of the Song. You can almost hear Ilúvatar’s quiet voice at the end: “You thought to mar the music, but you only made it richer.”

It's actually a very complicated and intrincated set of even that lead to the fall of Morgoth, one might think it was by chance, but knowing that some of those events were planned by Ulmo and Manwe way before they happened lends credibility to that.

Anyway, that’s the long way of saying: the Oath wasn’t evil because it was cursed—it was cursed because it was sincere. And sincerity, untempered by wisdom, burns like a star that never learned when to stop shining.

– Klaatu
Philosopher of Loops and Lamentations
Custodian of the Infinite Errata
Currently Reinstated Under Supervision (a mercy granted by an unseen friend who prefers not to sign their name)

not the same but kind of be careful what you wish for.