New and Updated Writing

On the night after the coronation, the wind was cold. Fires still burned in the north; their light could be seen, flickering on the far reaches of the horizon, but they provided no warmth. A figure stood on the ramparts of the keep at Hithlum, where the ceremony had been held, more solemn than joyous. The wisdom of having so many of the rulers so near the great darkness to the north, given what had happened– what was happening– was questionable, at best. But their luck held. For now.

A conversation between two kings of the Noldor.

The truth was, she should have been dead. The spear that was now leaning against the wall behind her should have killed her. The healers had told her that they had never seen someone survive such a wound, especially without the aid of elvish medicine, as she had been for the first days after the people of Brethil had found her. 

Story by pandemonium_213: The grisly banner having served its purpose, Sauron enlists the assistance of his soldiers and bodyguard to bear Celebrimbor's corpse to its final resting place in the foothills of the Misty Mountains while a snowstorm approaches from the southwest.  

Note:  Descriptions of torture and a deteriorating corpse may be too intense for some readers (roughly equivalent to MPAA R-rating or TV Ratings Mature Audience); some expletive language.  Pandë!versecentric.

Illustrations by Huinárë: Title: 1. "Examining His Work" / 2. "Thundersnow" Pencil illustration / Construction paper collage.  Rating: G

“Tell me…” the exhausted king said, looking directly into the commander’s eyes. He was covered in grime, soot and dirt, ash and blood, mud and sweat. His eyes were haunted. The War took its toll, after all, the very ground itself turning against them. The ruby light of the flames only served to reveal their hollowness. “The forces here. The orcs. Never before have I ridden against a host who parts and flees at the very sight of me. Why do they do so now?”

A lonely elf finds a flute half buried beneath the sand and wonders if its owner will hear him when he calls.

Late in the Second Age, one of the Faithful reflects critically on past developments. (Free verse.)

“Come on.” Maedhros grabbed his hand and pulled him along down the path, both of them quickening their pace now, until the trees opened up into a wide meadow filled with flowers, bright yellow celandine and dandelions and sweet-scented pale chamomile mingling with cornflowers and irises. On the other side of it was a larger party than Maglor had ever seen in Lórien—five figures sitting in the grass. Huan barked again, and they all looked up. “It seems everyone has come to fetch us home,” Maedhros said, laughing, as all their brothers scrambled to their feet.

After years in Lórien, Maglor and Maedhros are ready to return to their family and to make something new with their lives--but to move forward, all of Fëanor's sons must decide how, or if, they can ever reconcile with their father.

Aldarion storms off towards Middle-earth. For the Title Track challenge.

“Marry me.” Caranthir says, more of a demand than a question.

Haleth takes a sip of her wine.They haven’t even been served yet.

“Is this about the will revisions?”

or, A Modern Marriage of Convenience AU 

Makalaurë keeps Eönwë waiting

For S&D 2025 Slide 142 by Nightmares

I could get drunk off of her alone, nevermind the wine.

Amárië catches the attention of the Princess of the Noldor during an annual ball.

For Scribbles and Drabbles 2025, NSFW Slide 25 by Zhie

Andvir later supplies information about Turin to the poet who wrote a poem about him, but what does it mean for him, personally, to be the son of one of the most agressive of Turin's outlaws and nevertheless end up at the Havens?

Now added: Blood on Stone (a drabble set earlier in Andvir's life).

“They can’t just assume we’ll let them leave us behind.”
“But they are, and they will. Our fathers are the Heads of their Houses. Fëanáro is king. Defiance would be treason, beloved.”
“I am his firstborn.”
“You are his only daughter.”
“I have done everything to be the son he wished me to be.”
“And yet, you are not.”

Findekánë and Maitindë do not go to Beleriand with their fathers. This changes very little, and yet so much.
For Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 SFW Slide 213 Two Queens

Aredhel enjoys watching her Feanorians play.

For S&D 2025, NSFW Slide 24 - Finding Relaxation by Fiamma Galathon

With a quiet kind of love, Maeglin makes his lover earrings.

For S&D 2025 Slide 206

Erestor just wants some peace and quiet. It never lasts.

For S&D 2025 Slide 156 by maglor-my-beloved

Caranthir lay on the cold ground of Menegroth, gasping, when he heard it. Her.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered, calm, soothing.
He sobbed.

Caranthir is dying. Haleth is there to take him home.
for S&D 2025 Slide 102

“You’re not going to break me,” Russo huffed, finally cracking open his eyes, which were bright with amusement. “They could not, what makes you think you could?”

For Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 SFW Slide 33
 

Two years after Eöl's death, Maeglin reflects, and Rog tries to be supportive.

For Scribbles and Drabbles Slide 25 Maeglin looks over Caragdûr by Myrtaceaae

Dye Days are uncomfortable. The newly arrived party from Imladris makes it even more uncomfortable.

Written for S&D 2025, Slide 18 Blood On Their Hands by Zhie

There hadn’t been much left of Gil-galad to pick up when Elrond had found the place he had fallen.

Celebrían and Elrond construct a memorial to Gil-galad.
For S&D 2025 Slide 8

Dior prepares for his final standoff with the Sons of Fëanor.

Scribbles and Drabbles SFW Art 54 - Last Stand by PeasantPlayer

When Celebrimbor's attempts at forging the Rings of Power fail yet again, Annatar knows where to find the missing know-how.
For all the wrong reasons, Celebrimbor agrees to an expedition to the ruins of Angband to search Morgoth's own laboratory, deep in the icy Northern Wastes.
What awaits those two in the Hells of Iron?
A spooky season special, inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's 'At the Mountains of Madness'.

Ossë raged.

Rescued from a brutal Angband hunt, an ex-thrall with a strange and powerful artifact embedded in his spine is brought to Himring, for it is one of the only places in Beleriand which welcomes such folk. Though he has no memories of his life before, Anniavas slowly becomes accustomed to his new life and finds he has a queer connection with Maedhros, Himring's lord. As their intimacy grows, however, so do the dangers surrounding them, both without and within. What secrets are hidden inside the depths of Anniavas's lost memories--and how will those with whom he is forging and deepening bonds react, when those secrets are at last revealed?