It began in Almaren - when the world was new, and the gods were young, and the World seemed full of possibilities. It began beneath the earth, under great halls, inside a dark mirror.

Sauron makes the One Ring.

The year is 502 of the First Age. Doriath has already seen the Shadow seeping into its borders - and for Oropher, one of Thingol's chief counsels, it will not be long before it pierces into the vibrant heart of the realm.

The Silmaril is set in the Nauglamir, and nothing good comes of it on either side of the ensuing conflict.

The tenuous relationship between the King and the Elendili is coming to its breaking point. When Isildur steals the fruit of Nimloth, what follows brings the already-heavy boot of tyranny down harder upon the Faithful - especially the gifted healer, Nilûphel.

In the week after the beginning of Dagor Bragollach, an elfling and his mother flee their settlement near the Fens of Serech. With his father's fate unknown and his home destroyed, the elfling considers what is to come next.

A poem about Eluréd and Elurín's tragic fate.

Galadriel attends the wedding of Beren and Luthien, newly returned from their journey to Angband. There, a roast boar is cause for the resurgence of old, bad memories - and consideration of what truly makes one an outsider in Doriath.

Thranduil passes his 100th begetting day with some help from Galion, meets an elf-maid, and contemplates where he has come from, and where he will go from here, as he leaves his days of a Doriathrin childhood behind.

One day in the life of young Thranduil - from a quiet moment with his mother, to time spent with his friend Galion, to an uncomfortable talk with his father, and an eavesdropped conversation hinting at the resurgence of darker days.

Ages from now, Daeron remains in the East, and he remembers.

(Or, a poem of one that felt too much and made terrible decisions because of it)