New and Updated Writing

Pengolodh and Erestor negotiate truth and a relationship after they both Sail to Valinor.

Newlywed Beleg contemplates the changes in his life.

Elves were not infrequent visitors; just a few weeks before Elanor had entertained Legolas and one of his sisters, and occasionally some of the Wandering Companies stopped for a chat on an evening. But usually they came around twilight, and almost never did one come that Elanor had never met before.

An evolving collection of little bits and drabbles, too short to publish on their own.

A wandering Elf comes to the Shire to see the Mallorn Tree, and is invited to dinner with the Gardner family.

Elrond loved most the scene painted behind their mother’s seat, a green forest glade decked with hemlock umbels and delicate niphredil, and Lúthien dancing in the center, her skirts blue as the morning sky and her hair like a dark shadow swirling around her as she spun, hands uplifted.

Gildor returns to Nargothrond for the last time.

Beleg teaches Daeron to make his own instrument. Later, Daeron makes is own improvements.

The weavers workshops in Tirion are merry places, filled with Treelight spilling through wide open windows, and with laughter drifting over the steady clack of the looms like a melody over a steady beat.

Maedhros is one of the last of his family to return to life, welcomed joyfully by his brothers.

Now that Fingolfin has his wife back, is he still going to welcome him in his bed -- and should Maedhros even ask?

A moment in the forges between Melian and Mablung, before he leaves to join the Union of Maedhros.

A relationship in betweeness.

Fingon y Fingolfin tienen una conversación a las vísperas de la Batalla de la Llama Súbita.

Ways of smiling at grief.

One hungry year after the first fleet of Edain landed on Númenor's shores, still wet with seawater, ships arrive in Rómenna from the west.

Once again, Fingon has leapt in to rescue somebody at personal cost.
Turgon retreats to the greater safety of the secret city of Gondolin, from which he re-emerges to try and save his brother—and fails.

On shores separated by more than mere distance, Maglor and Elwing do not encounter each other, but...

Third Age at the earliest, but probably later.

Playing in Gondolin on the feast of Tarnin Austa (no, not that last Tarnin Austa), Salgant remembers a long-ago music lesson in Valinor.

The Silmaril falls slowly, so slowly, as if taking its time to caress the weightlessness of Ulmo’s waters. Does it seek relief also, Maglor wonders, to be free at last of all the hands that lusted after its blessed shine?

Maglor casts his Silmaril into the Sea.
[Also available as a podfic, recorded by Anerea]

The arrow shoots straight, but in the brief arc of its flight, it flexes ever this way and that, undulating in the air as if straining against the bonds of its mark. And yet what mark it finds, it finds, and strays not from its fate, and so do you, Túrin, in all your struggles, bend ever toward your doom.

Thrice would Beleg find Túrin in the wild unbidden. Beleg/Túrin.

In the early hours the half-built towers of Barad Eithel looked more like ruins than like the start of something new, ghostly in the mists that clung to the mountains and hovered in the hollows and valleys of Hithlum even under the noonday sun

Two snapshots. Osse and Uinen under the sea.

One late summer day, a postcard comes for Elrond in the mailbox. Elros intercepts.

One of the crebain drops out of the hunt for the Fellowship over Hollin.

Creatures of the Silmarillion: 6 perfect drabbles.