Excerpt from "Letters in the Sand"

by Rhapsody the Bard

Torment/Nwalme
I remember her betrayal. I remember her anger and the burning of my skin, tendons and refined touch. I remember how her essence shortly mingled with my fëa, the force set upon me, filling my mind with one thing as punishment. The jewel’s spirit taunted me, ripped my already tenuous mind into pieces, while I only knew one way out, to throw her far away from me. When I sensed how the calm water enveloped me, cold stone collided with my knees and my burned hands clutched together while I tried to hold onto my mind, now filled with torture.

Hollow/Unque
Little I do remember of the years past. Little do I remember how I managed to escape the breaking of the lands we all defended for such a long time against him. The moment he was locked away between the Doors of the Night, my whole purpose to be was no longer there and I became this hollow shell. Yet, I am still alive, serving as a living memory of my kin.

Fate/Umbar
But what drives me on still? Why can I not head to the calls from home? What is my purpose still to walk upon these shores? My eyes search the unlimited expanse once more and I find the remaining jewel without any effort. Why am I not blind? What is my accordance in the music? Many questions haunt me still. But I do believe my answer lies on the yonder shore to which I am not allowed to go yet. I first need to understand these letters. Realisation is mine when I look down on the elegantly script drawn by my feet in the sand from the left to the right, exactly how my father taught me to during our days of bliss on Aman.

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Excerpt from "The Handmaiden's Rainbow"

by Isil Elensar

It was a pretty color, like ripe lemons. Calendiel eased in the long length of silk. She stirred carefully and let it stand for several minutes. Then, with her paddle, she lifted the fabric from the cauldron and admired the beautiful yellow color. After she hung it up to dry, she turned and found one of Galadriel’s handmaidens standing in the doorway.

“May I help you?” she politely inquired.

“Lady Galadriel requests that you attend her,” the handmaiden answered quietly. Surprised, Calendiel handed her paddle to her apprentice, nervously checked her appearance, and then followed the lady to Galadriel’s talan.

Galadriel sat in an ornately carved, wooden chair, awaiting the arrival of Calendiel, the lady who was responsible for the colors of her gowns. Even now, she was wearing her green gown, which perfectly matched the color of emeralds, or the color of summer leaves. Never before had she seen such mastery with colors. Not even in Aman could anyone match Calendiel’s talent.

From the far end of the room, Galadriel saw Calendiel enter and curtsy before her. A smile lifted her lips as she greeted the girl.

“You asked for me, my lady?”

“Yes, Calendiel. I must thank you for the beautiful gowns you sent me.”

“Oh, but my lady! I only dye the fabric. I am afraid I cannot sew as well as your seamstresses...”

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Excerpt from "Five Times That Nerdanel Said 'Yes' and One Time She Did Not"

by Oshun

The immensity of the ocean took Nerdanel's breath away. So far from the light of the trees the overcast sky had rendered the seascape in a palate of silvery slate, grey and white.

"Can you taste the salt in the air? Feel the wind? The freshness. There is something primal about all of it. Everyone should visit here. It’s magical." 

"Don't try to change the subject!" Fëanáro said. "I do completely understand why you might shy away from the idea, but I have thought about this a lot." He took her right hand and kissed the knuckles. A blush suffused his face, while he blinked at her with feigned modesty. She didn't buy his posture for a moment. This wasn't the first time they had discussed the question. It was the first time she had seen the sea. Instinctively tugging at her hand, she glanced away, but he only tightened his grip. 

"Look at me, Nerdanel!" 

She met his eyes unable to subdue her smirk. He was always so transparent. 

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Excerpt from "Five Bells"

by Dawn Felagund

The bell tolled, and for a moment, all of Tirion held its breath. Then life resumed.

The towerkeeper's son felt for the floor with his toes and eased down. He paused, as his father had instructed, and waited for the sound to subside before he would leap to let it toll again. It would happen that his father was away in Alqualondë, but the King's messenger wouldn't hear of waiting, so with a pounding heart, the boy had set to do the task himself.

Behind him, his little sister squatted upon a broad windowsill and ate bread with jam and watched the light from the Mindon scrape a thin silver crescent on the sideward bell before it swung downward again and resumed its normal coppery hue in the shadows of the tower. "What does it mean?" she asked.

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Excerpt from "'What is it?'"

by Eärillë

Glorfindel looked at the small, brightly-coloured package with both suspicion and interest. He could smell a sugary scent through the wrapping, but he had never seen any sweets wrapped by such kind of paper. 

In the end, though, his curiosity won and he carefully pealed off the wrappers. 

A small stack of soft, tiny strips of… something… now lay before him. Gingerly, he picked one up and sniffed it. The smell was almost cloying. Definitely not a sweet he knew. 

He pealed off the wrappers on the topmost strip, revealing its colour: pink. The smell was truly cloying now, but it made his mouth water, and – to Angband with caution – he wanted to try this strange sweet. 

He poked his tongue out and licked the edge of the strip, and gagged. It tasted like the parody of a sweet. But oh how it melted like snow on fire on his tongue! He wanted to try more, to have more… 

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Excerpt from "Five meetings between Indis and Míriel"

by clotho123

Their first meeting Indis was not yet as tall as her brother’s waist; not old enough to go out to gather, still less to hunt.  She had spent the day scattering seeds with other children, under watchful older eyes, knowing from her elders this was a new thing yet still too young to remember the days before the first tilling.  She was tired, as always at the end of the day, and her fair hair was slipping loose from its bindings so she had to keep pushing it away from her face, as she returned to the family cooking fire. 

The food was never shared out before all were there, but Ingwë had broken the rule.  He was kneeling beside a girl with a torn dress and dirty face, older than Indis but not fully grown.  She was swallowing the bread soaked in broth with her eyes fixed on the ground.  Indis sat down cross-legged, fighting the wish to just take a bowl and ladle out broth for herself, which she knew would get a rebuke.   

“This is Míriel,” Ingwë said, “We found her in a thicket, near where the larch encampment stood.”  Although he had chosen his words carefully Indis saw the strange girl flinch.  Ingwë and some others had left for the larch settlement the day before, wary of the thick smoke that was rising where it should stand.  Indis had been pushing fear from her mind since they had left, remembering a mother killed by wolves and a father who had wasted away from grief.  Her brother was the only close kin she had left, but she guessed now the strange girl might have no close kin at all 

“Míriel,” she said, “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

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