New Challenge: Bollywood
This month's challenge offers songs, films, and tropes from Bollywood, the world's largest film industry based out of India, as prompts for fanworks.
The competition cocktail party was a regular event, and Fingon gradually learned to appreciate, if not always enjoy it.
A triple drabble, with images and recipes for 9 cocktails.
All is not as it seems when Thranduil enters the ancestral Feanorian estate, but he fails to fully comprehend the scale and nature of the risk. If he's very lucky, one day he might even get to leave.
Curufin visits his wife in the forge with another creation in mind.
Fingon and Maedhros shape new lives after Mandos. One chapter from Fingon's point of view and one from Maedhros'.
Middle Earth, as a new land was no safer than the old Beleriand. There were people he shouldn't meet on his way of exploration, but Elrond catched the chance.
After the War of Wrath they were taken again.
One winter night, Maedhros has his work interrupted by an uninvited visitor and an unwelcome guessing game.
At the Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reunion, plenty is always going on: so many people, so many encounters and interactions, tensions and forging of friendships .
That night, in this moment, in this little corner of Mereth Aderthad, nothing happens. Almost nothing. But it fails to happen with some intensity.
There had been war-camps in Beleriand, purposeful and deadly serious, as well as full of song and camaraderie. There had been the Mereth Aderthad.
This tournament camp was, oddly — or perhaps not — most like that.
Elrond asks about his mother, in 100-word drabbles.
Once per year, on the night of a holiday only she still celebrates, Galadriel lights fourteen candles.
To the eldest son of the crown prince, the heir to the throne of the Noldor, Nelyafinwë Maitimo.
Elwing is dead, but she will not let Maglor alone, no matter how he pleads.
11 Drabbles for the Experimental Challenge.
Elrond and Elros are kidnapped, again. But this time, the only people who are around to rescue them are their other kidnappers.
Elrond and Elros are afraid of the Feanorions, until they aren't.
Findekáno’s coronation should have been a grand affair. Moringotto was dead, and the Ñoldor could begin to rebuild and slowly retake the lands the Enemy had destroyed in the battle that they had all thought was the beginning of the end.
But Findekáno’s father had fallen even as he slew the Black Foe. Over four hundred years he had ruled, and Findekáno knew this was quite possibly the worst time for a change in leadership.
He still didn’t know where Turukáno and Írissem were.
He still had not heard from Russandol.
"They do not touch anymore, not even in violence. Maglor has no need of him. It is his foals, grazing upon his barren spirit, who have brought him back to life."
A messy entanglement, from four perspectives.
A moodboard retelling the major events in Maedhros' life from Valinor to his death in Beleriand
Maedhros gets a reward for a job well done.
Maglor encounters Maedhros in an unexpected place. His explanations are not satisfactory.
Modern AU with Russingon QPR.
I have a full background for everyone and everything, though I envision this as a series of one-shots, rather than a linear story. Russingon QPR will be the main focus, but other characters will make appearances and maybe steal the light. It's a bit lighter on the trauma in the sense that everyone (beside Finwë and Míriel) is alive, but they each have their own issues.
For practical reasons (aka I didn't want to have to deal with it in-universe), Fëanor is only Míriel's son and was adopted by Finwë at a young age, so Maedhros and Fingon are not biologically cousins, and don't really consider themselves as such, though they have known each other since they were kids.
“I’m in love with you,” Fingon says one morning in September.
Maedhros is perched on the couch’s armrest, bent down, struggling to tie his laces. He looks up at Fingon as the words sink in. His unbound hair makes a curtain in front of his eyes, and he can only see parts of him, the hand on his shoulder bag, the golden beads in his perfectly braided hair, his hesitant, expectant smile.
His face falls the longer Maedhros takes to answer. They’re running late for the meeting, and there’s a lead weight in Maedhros’s gut that pulls painfully as words fail to form on his lips. I’m in love with you too, the words are right there, but it’s like someone has sucked all the sound out of him.