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.
Follow the blue roads of Arda.
Embittered by Aldarion's departure on a long overseas journey against her will, Erendis dismisses the pair of wonderful Elven-birds that were given to her by visitors from Tol Eressea during her honeymoon. The birds briefly visit Erendis's parents on their flight back to Tol Eressea, but will not let themselves be touched and afterwards, it seems, they are not seen or heard again in Numenor.
"Sweet fools, fly away!" Erendis said. "This is no place for such joy as yours."
I have written a fix-it for the loss of the Elven-birds, sort of.
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.
"It was often said (among other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but..."
Faramund Took goes wandering through the South Downs, and comes back home with a rather unexpected bride.
That it was returned, he did not question. He could look back now and see everything arranged in its full image, he could trace the careful dance they both wound through this past year; every word, every silence, every touch ringing through with that steady truth. How had he been so blind?
Springtime has come to Estolad. Finrod is struck with a realization he has been avoiding and faces the decisions that lie in its wake.
As Elwing navigates uncertainties about identity, rulership, and her impending motherhood, a chance meeting with a reclusive woman of the Haladin leads to a relationship that will give her strength facing the challenges to come. [WiP. Rating based on chapter 1 but will change to Adult.]
Glingaereth meets the crown prince of the Noldor by chance, if chance you call it.
“All the same, sister, be careful.”
“Me?” Glingaereth said. “Careful of what?”
“Of that prince.”
“What, Fingon? If you are worried about the Noldor’s feuds, he is the one who brought them to an end.”
Limbeleth shook her head. “I can’t explain it. It isn’t that you need worry about him, but—I have an uneasy feeling about them all, and I feel also that you will be bound up in their fate somehow.”
“Let us not perish here in the long darkness,” Balan said softly, crossing back to take one of the waiting wreaths and set it upon his own brow, “these creatures you chose to form. Remember us, here in our frailty.”
It is Yuletide. The Atani and Finrod celebrate throughout the night as they stay awake to greet the dawn after the Longest Night. Balan's people settle into Estolad, Atani traditions abound, and Finrod faces some memories.
A triple drabble - and a brief history - of an old orc.
It was a custom done in scorn of death, Balan would tell Finrod later that night as they sat beside the fire in the hush of the midnight watch. He might come ever ravening among them, but they would scorn his maw. Even in their rotting they would lay claim to life.
Balan's people are on the road to Estolad. Finrod begins to suspect his own feelings, there is danger on the road, and we witness Atani burial rituals.
Arwen remembers a dream, Aragorn makes a prediction, and Minas Tirith flies.
Millenia later, Eärendil gets company on the Vingilot and remembers his childhood.
Oh, and there are hot air balloons.
Finrod felt the other’s panic strike his perception like a blow and was running even before Balan’s cry reached his ear. In a glance, his eyes took in the scene before him: the camp in sudden stillness, one of the Laiquendi staggering through the clearing, a limp body slung in his arms, Balan and Baran sprinting toward him.
It was Belen in his arms.
The Edain and the Laiquendi cross paths in the woods of Ossiriand and are faced with immediate conflict. Finrod and Estreth work to heal the damage, Balan (Bëor) tries to learn the communication of thought, and the Edain choose where their loyalty will abide.
It was danger only if the goal was avoidance, and Balan had no desire to escape. The urge to laugh returned and his heart dared Estreth’s cautions to be true so he might find himself ensnared forever, held motionless on this hilltop, a statue cradled within the other’s hands till the world’s ending. If his soul was consumed in the process, then let it be so. It was a fair price.
A few months after Finrod discovered the Edain near Thalos, he continues to dwell with them and form friendships. Balan (Bëor) attempts to learn multiple languages, some old folktales of the Edain come up in conversation, and Balan and Finrod discuss grief with a side of constellations. Balan has a crush.
An ongoing series (estimated to ultimately include around 20-25 works) about Finrod & Bëor, their relationship, and how Finrod copes in the face of that loss. Basically, if you ever wanted a longer than necessary slow burn of these two trailblazing the elf-mortal love tragedy, I've got you covered.
I’m sorry for not having a more consistent schedule on getting these finished, edited, and posted. I’m juggling full-time work and in a busy season there, so I’ve been slipping this in wherever I can, but that does mean I’m a bit unpredictable when it comes to a posting schedule. Currently I'm managing approximately 1 piece every 2 weeks or thereabouts. Thanks for bearing with the slow burn!
The unexpected and mysterious return of Glorfindel, hero of Gondolin, to Middle-earth opens old wounds for Erestor. Can he overcome guilt and forge a new relationship with his old friend?
Written for 2023 My Slashy Valentine fic swap
And when the tidings came to Balar of the fall of Gondolin and the death of Turgon, Ereinion Gil-galad son of Fingon was named High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth.
~Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin
When the War of Wrath breaks, Gil-galad must deal with a heavy contingent of refugees from all the fallen realms of Beleriand.
Then he heard movement in the bushes. He tensed, hand going to the hilt of his knife, but the next sound to emerge was a small whimper. “Eluréd?” called Elurín from across the camp.
“One moment,” said Eluréd. He crept closer to the sound, and parted a few branches to find a bundle of blankets, tightly wrapped, and something squirming and crying inside them.
“What is it?” Elurín asked from behind him.
“A child.”
Saeros' daughter reflects on the life and actions of her father.
An Orc of Morgoth - just one of the many masses that were bred for war and slaughter. But what happens when an idea of self beyond that of slave begins to form?
7-prompt path for the Matryoshka challenge.
Halwen the Spearwoman was a Avarin elf who joined the service of Maedhros Fëanorion shortly before the Dagor Aglareb and died fighting against her lord at Sirion. The untitled Sindarin text commemorating her, known today as the "Lament for Halwen," survives in a single manuscript now preserved at the Library of Rivendell.
Translated from Sindarin into English by Ermingarden and illustrated by Fiona15351.
In the ancient time before the Children of Iluvatar and all other beings of Arda woke up, Yavanna thinks about men and their vulnerability, and uses her power to help them – even if only in an indirect way.
"Surely not." At the sound of his voice the great shaggy shape stirred, and turned its head. Behind him Asar called out, asking a question, but Maglor barely heard him. He fell to his knees in the wet sand, staring into eyes that gleamed with ancient Treelight and even older starlight. Then his face was being licked clean of tears by a giant tongue, and he was both laughing and crying as he flung his arms around the dog's shoulders, burying his face in wet fur, hardly caring that it was still crusted with sand that scraped against his cheeks. "Huan, what are you doing here?"
The Entwives are forced to flee when Sauron wipes out their homes but at the end of a long journey, they find a place that suits them very well.
Tarilanya, freed from Angband and back home in Valinor, enjoys her life.