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.
The more he thought about it the more he realized he was not quite missing the Tirion of his childhood, but Nargothrond at its height. His own city, that he’d planned and helped to build with his own two hands, where his friends among the dwarves had visited so often, and where he had earned his favorite epessë. No one in Valinor called him Felagund.
“This is not the way of the Eldar.”
“It’s mine. Am I not one of the Eldar too?”
Finrod thinks about his and Amarië's relationship while they cuddle in a forest. She is a closeted trans woman.
Fëanáro era Rey. Nolofinwë lo había aceptado mucho antes del asesinato de su padre.
During a ball in Ingwion's manor, Turukáno meets the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
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.
Mairon is an enigma - but a beautiful one. Eönwë has never wanted anything so much in his life.
Lindon and Eregion clash over how to handle Númenórean deforestation. Ost-in-Edhil is buiding up to its own internal strife. But for Elrond and Celebrían, for this one moment in time, everything is perfect.
During the War of Wrath, Sauron encounters an Eönwë down on his luck and lends a helping hand. At the end of the war, their positions are reversed. Eönwë only wishes a helping hand would be enough for Sauron.
Eärendil returns to Sirion after his latest sea voyage, and Elwing's anxieties about her pregnancy are soothed in the loving arms of her husband.
Thuringwethil expected she had signed her doom when she let the princess of Doriath go free. But she may have saved herself in the process.
Amarie would appreciate Finrod being less of a distraction. At least he's willing to help fix the problem he caused.
Anaire forgives Fingolfin in pieces.
Maglor had not, in fact, lost the capacity to care for another.
Celegorm loves. Aredhel does, too - but not quite.
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.
Galadriel felt she had a well-matched friend in Princess Luthien, and she did not expect that ever to change.
Gil-galad confronts her growing feelings for Elrond. Part of my Woman King AU.
Setting aside her basket, Indis ran barefoot through the fields to greet him, and he swept her into his arms and spun her around. Her laughter fell upon the fields like rain, and Finwë felt it wash over his heart, welling up in the cracks that he had thought would ever remain after the loss of Míriel.
The song of their joy spills over the fields of the Valar.
Irissë crosses the ice, loses a sister and a brother, and battles her way towards a reunion with the cousin who deserted her.
A relationship in betweeness.
The tide played around the horizon, only beginning to consider its daily sweep up the beach to the toes of Alqualondë. Eärwen waved to the far-off breakers and slid down to the wet sand, then turned and lifted Anaïre down. Anaïre pecked her on the cheek in thanks, and they started up the beach to the strand and the woman lying there sobbing for breath.
She did look young, close-up. That is, she looked like an Elf who had just reached full maturity, except where she did not. Around the eyes she bore little crinkles like the seafarers did, on her heaving belly the lightning-marks of pregnancy, and two fascinating rivers of silver ran into the light-gulping blackness of her hair from the temples. And, of course, there were the feathers
If I sing now, will you answer me?
Once childhood friends, now king and captain, Finrod and Edrahil mourn for what they lost in each other on the Helcaraxë.