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A very brief encounter between Andreth and Aegnor after death.
Maybe Nienna had her hand in it, allowing Andreth to linger for a short while among dead Elves. Or maybe not?
“And yet is it not the greater folly to imagine that such love could never grow between our kinds? Was it not folly for us to be made thus and yet driven to dwell together and take up arms together?” She cupped his face in her hand, beseeching him. “Would not the One, who your people say commands the Music of the world—though my people hear it not—have surely foreseen such a grief? And if he did foresee such grief and did nothing, allowing it to pass, what difference is there between his allowance and his will? And if he did will such a grief, then how can your people say that he is good?”
Andreth shares with Aegnor what the Wise say of Men's original nature, and of the wound dealt to them by Morgoth.
Angrod's hopes for a new life in a strange new land with the object of the Noldor's wrath residing to the north, may not be as easy as he believes.
The Fëanorian and Arafinwëan middle-children go hunting in the sweltering, noisy jungles of southern Aman. Angrod and Caranthir find a way to take the edge off.
“Andreth fears for you,” Finrod says, barely louder than the popping of coals in the iron braziers that circle the tent’s interior. “She wishes for me to tell you not to be reckless, not to seek danger beyond need.”
Finrod watches his brother’s back as he stands silent. “Would you refuse her wish?”
Five times Finrod foresees Aegnor’s death, and one time he foresees his own.
“I would honor the customs of thy people, Andreth, and marry thee in the manner of thy people,” he said at last.
“And if I did not want to?” she asked, so soft she barely heard her own voice. “If I wished to marry thee in the manner of thy people?” Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze.
Aegnor drew in an uneven breath, swift and sharp. His gaze roved her face, tracing her features. When he spoke, his voice was rough but tender. “I would take thee away, to the south or east, and marry thee under the light of the stars. And there none would speak against our union. And I would be thine and thou would be mine in every way that there is.”
A summer evening spent in a glade near the shores of the Aeluin.
Four cousins have fun by the sea.
In Fifth Age Tirion, Caranthir has been reembodied into a changed world: his uncle has unkinged himself and turned Tirion into a republic, Elves live in suburbs and seek psychotherapy, and the Noldor born after his exile have invented all kinds of wondrous things. One day, Caranthir receives a letter that he is being entrusted to mentor his newly reembodied cousin Orodreth. They must not only resolve their old enmity but achieve a tenuous friendship--maybe even more?--as both seek the peace and acceptance they never found in their prior lives. Written for TRSB 2019, based on the artwork by NelyafinweFeanorion.
I would like to share my revelations of Tolkien's Universe in the form of narrative and emotional poems.
Finrod learns more.
"Words of wit and whimsy" all of line 3 (free spac: weald)
Hador and his relationships with Fingolfin, Gildis and others.
Not really what it says on the tin. It's just that Andreth never quite seems to agree with Finrod, much as I may like him, and I can't seem to let that go. Aegnor, of course, is never heard from at all. My athrabeth-based scribbles more or less belong to the same mood, though it has not been that consistent.
A series encompassing my attempt to bring Angrod and his family to life, from Valinor to the War of Wrath.
A series of stories exploring the exploits of the House of Fingolfin during the first years of the Years of the Sun.
Aegnor sings to Andreth of Valinor.
Every summer, Macalaurë’s entire family takes a trip to the woods and sets up camp for a few days, enjoying the nice weather and each other’s companies.
A scene before the start of Service to the Dead. Aegnor shares works with another ghost in Mandos.
A modern AU centering around the house of finwë: who they are how they grow, and in the end, how they love. Mostly Russingon centric, but definitely involving other characters pretty liberally, especially the other feanorians.
Eternity takes a long time.
('However long the History of the Elves might become before it ended, it would be an object of too limited range. To be perpetually 'imprisoned in a tale' (as they said), even if it was a very great tale ending triumphantly, would become a torment.')
Finarfin and his family make a garden for Galadriel's seventh begetting day present.
25: 'start' (photo prompt, sign painted on a gate by a child)
“But why are you here, M’lord? And not in thine Halls or reborn o’er the seas?” Gorlim asked.
“There is no peace for me there,” answered the armored phantom. “I vowed never to be reborn, and spoke this oath before the Doomsman. He accepted, loathe though he was at my resolve. I am not my cousins, to ever rest from this war against the Great Foe. So he sends me thither, to fight Morgoth once more, in the manner of the servants of Mandos.”
The Team-up Fic You Never Knew You Needed: the Ghosts of Gorlim and Aegnor Have Adventures (While Somebody Steals a Silmaril)
The march of Fingolfin from Lanthir Lammoth to Thangorodrim.
"It was night again."
A collection of drabbles written for the 2019 Solstice Instadrabbling on the SWG Discord. See the Table of Contents for summaries (and content warnings, if needed) for individual pieces.
On the Helcaraxë at the first moonrise, past memories and future hope
Many theories circulate around Middle-earth about the parentage of the High King, and Gil-galad has heard them all. As he senses the end of an era with his reign (and his life) coming to a close he ponders on where it all began. What is the truth? Only one man knows, and it isn't him.