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.
Patrols upon the Ard-Galen are rarely events of great fanfare during times of peace.
The sons of Fëanor find their places. Or lose them.
And even after he and Lúthien settled in Tol Galen, where the air smelled of roses and pine and the nightingales sang merrily through the summertime, word of the outside word came in bits and pieces, often many years late.
Rather than killing him, Dior curses Celegorm with his dying breath. Someone that Celegorm once helped helps him a little in turn.
The first and last time Turgon sees Aredhel
Do wars start with the first fired arrow and end with the last? Or maybe they start already with the realization that they need to be fought? And never truly end, as long as the memory of them haunts those who took part? Arafinwë’s story of the War of Wrath. Previously posted on other sites.
‘None of the Valar, but the King rides upon Rochallor, his great steed. Yea, and wrathful he is, flying ahead as an arrow.’
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Ard-galen witnesses Fingolfin's final stand.
“Nana,” Legolas asks one day through a mouthful of stewed berries, “How come your eyes are so shiny?”
It’s an innocent question, and predictable in hindsight — neither of which help his parents in knowing how to answer it.
[Written for TRSB 2023, Art #77 - Exploring the Past. Posted for SWG Roaring Twenties Challenge - N1, Bright Young Things.]
Love. He must love enough, and Maedhros will be granted to him. Fingon can do that easily enough, he thinks to himself. He had returned Maedhros from the dead before, had he not?
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The world is aging, and Fingon entreats for Maedhros in the Halls of Mandos. It is simpler than he believed, but somehow it makes nothing easier.
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.
In Numenor, Mairon contemplates a sacrifice.
Fingon records a selection of details about his life from the Fourth Age onwards.
The Grinding Ice proves a deadly trap for Elenwë and her daughter. Turukáno is willing to give his own life to save that of his wife and child, and almost succeeds.
‘And that is the device of the house of Bëor,’ Elwing adds. ‘My house.’
‘Mine too,’ Tuor says. ‘In part.’
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Tuor, a young Elwing, and the remnants of the Edain in the havens of Sirion.
Tolkien's werewolves are not the lycanthropes of popular myth. What happens when they die?
A drabble.
After Oromë sends a Hunting Party to investigate the reports of proliferation of fell beasts far in South Aman, the entire errand goes horrifically wrong. Celegorm was prepared to die a grisly death, yet he dares to beg the Great Void Spider to spare his life, which to his surprise, the request is heeded. Then comes the most unlikely partnership and friendship in all of Arda, and its unexpected consequences.
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?
Turin, just after killing Beleg, sinks into despair.
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]
The arrow shoots straight, but in the brief arc of its flight, it flexes ever this way and that, undulating in the air as if straining against the bonds of its mark. And yet what mark it finds, it finds, and strays not from its fate, and so do you, Túrin, in all your struggles, bend ever toward your doom.
Thrice would Beleg find Túrin in the wild unbidden. Beleg/Túrin.
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.
As Luthien prepares to surrender to old age, she is visited by a long-lost friend.
Nerdanel had hoped to beat Feanor to Formenos, but she came too late.