Of artistry, women's bodies, and loss. 

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Week after week, she worked at it, chisel in hand. Her hands were worn and bruised, the skin dry and cracked with stone dust, her nails broken. Her boots and leggings were covered in a thick paste of slurry, and even her tunic and other clothes were frankly unclean. Her hair was stuffed carelessly into a rough cap, from which it escaped in ragged ends. 

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Da Capo - musical term: an instruction to play over from the beginning.

"There must have been another way to solve the equation, a different path to other results," he thought.

It was never the right moment to leave Doriath.

One of the first big leaks happened in the Hall of Ages, once used for the spectacular Autumn Moon dances. Formerly a favorite room of the Queen. A section of gilded woodwork, encrusted with carven grapes and flowers, gave way and fell to the floor. Water streamed in, ruining a delicate mural of the Great Journey. The polished parquet floor swelled and warped beyond repair.

No one was thinking about dancing, so soon after the King’s death and the Sack. They shut up the room and left it be.

The Noldor never left Aman.

Sail, sail, sail, to the West,

Sail to the one that you love best!

Aragorn reads to his children about the creation of Arda. His daughter has a lot of questions. (One-shot)

Caranthir the Dark does business with an Edain, and unwittingly gives rise to the hope of Middle-earth. Maedhros forms a plan.

Of the Petty-Dwarves, the Elves, and first encounters. What they told themselves, and others.

About the Nauglamír and the other side of the story. Of culture clash, betrayal, and lost art.

We have our teaching, and the Elves have theirs. Through countless years, they have continued to tell their own version of events about the Nauglamír. Ever they turn the story against us, saying it reveals the greed of the Dwarves, and our treachery.

They say that Elven memory is perfect. And yet it seems not so.