New and Updated Fiction

Deep in a Dol Guldur dungeon, Celebrimbor must hold his silence to ensure his greatest work stays free.  1st Place Teitho Challenge: Honour

A collection of drabbles written for instadrabbling sessions on the SWG Discord.

A collection of drabbles from the instadrabbling sessions on Discord. 

Narvi is intrigued and a little unnerved by Celebrimbor's companion.  Celebrimbor is soppy about his scaly, fire-breathing friend.  Fluffy short one-shot.  Slightly AU.

Tuor sets out with the Gray Elves, but becomes a slave of Lorgan the Easterling.

Itarillë has something serious on her mind and needs someone to talk it over with. Lomion isn't entirely sure why she's asking for advice.

Celebrimbor has a realization about his partner, Annatar. Written for the Matryoshka Challenge 2018. 

Celegorm decides to take a break from the Siege of Angband to spend time with his youngest brothers in the one hobby they all enjoy.  Things go awry, and that's the fun part.

Maedhros defied his father only once. AU.

Even the most twisted tree was once an innocent sapling. Written as a treat for Amyfortuna, Trick or Treat 2018.

He thinks that he's going insane, that only his now ruined music stays. His memories are fleeing, abandoning him. But some remain.

Death cannot take Lalaith from the river.

It came in fragments, glimpses, shades of grey. There was a wide land under a growing shadow as darkness rose like a wave—like the wave that had crushed Númenor, that she dreamed of so often—like great dark wings of some fell creature, like the darkness was a thing in itself and not merely the absence of light.

Elladan really wasn't planning to get thrown back in time to Beleriand, but the world didn't bother asking his opinion. Now, he struggles to find a way back home as the First Age unfolds around him. The host of newly acquired relatives, including a great-uncle with a flair for dramatics, sons of Fëanor who insist on being people rather than historical villains, and a several-times great-grandmother with some unexpected skills, just make it more overwhelming.

And where is Gil-galad, anyway? Shouldn't he be around here somewhere?

The story of the eighth companion of Finrod and Beren to die in the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

Nerdanel finds Maglor on a Florida beach.

Celebrimbor was first imagined as the descendant of Daeron. I decided to run with it.

Celebrimbor was the heir to the kingdom of Doriath before his father decided to vanish into thin air, leaving naught but a hastily scribbled note for a messenger to hand to him. In a difficult position as the black sheep of the royal family, Celebrimbor decides to leave for Nargothrond hoping not only to find a place where he fits in, but perhaps even word on the mysterious figure that was his mother.

Thangorodrim is broken, and the Elves believe that Evil has ended forever. There's a certain amount of tidying-up to be done.

HoME canon in which Maglor is among the Elves in the early second age and Elrond is with him rather than published Silmarillion canon.  

"It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen."

Finrod writes of love and nightingales (until all he can hear is the sound of water flowing).

The door out of which Elves stepped into new life was a small one. It opened into a glade of grass and ferns and fragrant flowers. It swung open on silent hinges one quiet evening, when the sky in the west was purple and the sky in the east night-dark, and the stars burned bright overhead. A cricket hid in the grass and chirped. An owl swooped overhead on silent wings.

Celebrían has not been idle while waiting for Elrond to come west.

Maedhros and Maglor realise the price they have paid for the Silmarils.

"Ah!" The strange man peered more closely at them. "Elves coming east!" He seemed to find the idea funny, and sat down with them on the grass to laugh. "And what are your names, little elf children?"

Maglor has always talked in his sleep.

Young Artanis, Irissë, and Ambarussa were left to amuse themselves while their fathers were in a meeting at the palace. What could possibly go wrong?