Tolkien Meta Week Starts December 8!
Join us December 8-14, here and on Tumblr, as we share our thoughts, musings, rants, and headcanons about all aspects of Tolkien's world.
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.
It is the night of Tirion's masked ball. Fëanáro is after Artanis' hair, Artanis is after a distraction, Macalaurë is deploying all his wiles, and Findaráto is just trying to have a nice time.
Maglor receives treatment for his shortcomings.
Maglor encounters Maedhros in an unexpected place. His explanations are not satisfactory.
Maglor had not, in fact, lost the capacity to care for another.
Breakfast with the Feanorians, late in the First Age featuring Himring's OC Narye, ex-housekeeper of Himring.
Maglor and Fingolfin meet for the first time since Losgar and the Ice.
My second moodboard for TRSB 2023: a rule 63 Maglor in space AU.
Moodboard for TRSB 2023, wherein I request Maglor to be tortured. The collage is not graphic, but does contain images of torture implements or things that can be used as such.
The Havens of Sirion burn, and it is not the Sons of Fëanor’s doing.
Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon, in the years between the fall of the Havens and the arrival of the Host of the Valar.
A drabble about the fate of Maglor.
They sat in silence for a little while, until Maglor finished his cup of water and sighed. “There is something on your mind,” he said. “Out with it.”
To his vague surprise, Elros did not look up. He carefully plucked another flower and added it to his growing chain. “Why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?”
“Not—just you. You and—everyone. Why did you come to Sirion?”
A short crime-story that is a direct continuation of a Drabble written for B2MEM (Match).
Detective Aredhel and her second-in-command Haleth find the burned corpse of a boy. They now have to investigate men they had thought firmly and safely relegated to the past.
Can they be guilty of a crime so heinous? Why won't anybody in that dark, foreboding house cooperate when the women clearly toil to save their reputations and lives?
Elrond stood in awe, transfixed by the beauty of the song and the lilt of the harp. He felt almost as if he could touch the music, if he bent his mind and will hard enough to the task. He felt Maglor’s voice in his chest, in his heart, in the pulse of the air around him. Everything listened, bending ear to the power of the song.
Together, Maglor and Elrond create visions with songs.
Maglor responds to the news of Maedhros' capture.
A wandering Elf comes to the Shire to see the Mallorn Tree, and is invited to dinner with the Gardner family.
A relationship in betweeness.
Shortly after the unexpected release of Fëanor, Daeron — now loremaster of Alqualondë and chief minstrel of the Eldar — finally reaches out to Maglor. Maglor is perplexed about his motives, but agrees to meet.
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.
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]
Two dwarves have a special catch in their nets. Old oaths and curses need a solution before the last witnesses of the First Age sail to the West.
The Silmarillion says : "And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves. For Maglor was mighty among the singers of old, named only after Daeron of Doriath; but he came never back among the people of the Elves."
So, what if Maglor had enough of the shores and just wandered the world?
Here is my take on Maglor living in France during the 1848 french revolution.