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

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Everyone has to start somewhere - though not all children realize it. Drabble written for the Opposites Attract challenge.

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Rog tells Celebrilmal how he first met her mother when Celebrilmal is in need of some patching up

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Maitimo helps Fëanáro, and Fëanáro decides something important.

Written for the Monthly Challenge Opposites Attract with the prompt "organized-chaotic" 

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Celebrían sees Elrond off when he departs for Mordor, and she is there to greet him when he returns.

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In Ossiriand after Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Celegorm meets the Green-elf he deserves.

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The Third Kinslaying: the calm before the storm and the aftereffects.

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After his first encounter with Glaurung, Fingon reflects on what it means to be brave.

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In Mithrim: Maedhros and his healer.

A bit of backstory for the later master healer of Himring.

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Turgon watches Gondolin burn. Someone watches Turgon.

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After the destruction of the Ring, Eonwe searches for Sauron and takes him home.

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“Congratulations, my love, you have made a plank. Yet again.”  Dry tones teased his ears softly, the silent footsteps of his beloved Ngilith giving him no warning of her approach.

Círdan smiled, running the pad of his thumb over the smooth surface of the wide board. “Not a plank, this, dearest,” he mused, leaning back against her chest for a moment when she drew near. Lifting the waiting pot, he watched a thin stream of oil catch the light of the torches someone had lit while he was busy smoothing the wood. “A board.” He spread the pool of oil with his fingers, feeling the smooth glide of skin against wood with a joyful satisfaction. “I wish to travel as the waves do, bare and unfettered as we rush towards shore.” He could see it so clearly, feel the rush and song of waves racing with him, Ossë’s laughter bright as noonlight on water.

She laughed, a sound he had missed more than he knew in her absence, pressing herself against his back, her chin resting lightly against his shoulder.

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After living for hundreds, never mind thousands, of years by the sea there's no way that Círdan wasn't a) as brown as a berry, and b) didn't invent surfing.

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