New and Updated Fiction

“Can you wait that long?” Findekáno asks.

“Yes,” snaps Maitimo , though in truth he is not so sure. His bladder is ridiculously full, swollen and aching, jostling around uncomfortably with every step he takes. It takes a concerted effort of will not to squirm around awkwardly or grab himself between the legs each time the urgency spikes. He glances at Findekáno. “Stop enjoying this so much.”

***

The Gardens of Lórien are one place in Aman Maitimo absolutely, unequivocally, cannot piss. He will have to find a creative solution to this predicament.

But Aredhel knew better than her mother; she was stronger, she was more willful, she was enlightened. She would not make the same mistakes Anairë had made. She would find a way to do it all differently.

***

Re-embodied in Aman, Aredhel struggles to come to terms with all that has changed, and all that has not.

The Rings have been forged. The armies of Mordor are marching into Eriador. Eregion burns. 

Far away from it all, by the shores of the Sea, Celegorm remembers his name.

Celebrimbor reflects on his life and his childhood in Tirion. 

A young Celegorm and Curufin befriend an old Spruce tree. 

“Do you know what grows on the shores of the southern isles? A trading-merchant might bring many strange specimens to our lands, like nothing I have ever seen. In recent days, I have tasted a ripe fruit with firm flesh that parted beneath my tongue in a burst of liquid sweetness. So moist, so yielding, its juices dripped down my chin like fragrant honey. Have you ever known such succulence?”

Fingon’s wife has arranged a special surprise for the Lord of Himring.

Or: everyone’s cool with a little ethical nonmonogamy until someone throws a temporary sex change into the arrangement. Lord Maedhros loves Fingon with all his heart, that is known. But how will he react to Fingwen?

The first time Curufin kisses Finrod, it is to provoke.

There is no deeper meaning to it. Only a cousin with a pleasant smile and mild words; only Curufin's unending need to break things and a violence that has been hanging from his fists since they stepped into these caves.

He expects Finrod to reel back with disgust, expects him to be scandalized, to be offended, to narrow his eyes, maybe even to threaten. He does not expect for Finrod's mouth to open beneath his, Finrod's hands coming up to fist in his robes and pull him close. He bites at Finrod's lip savagely, and Finrod bites harder, smiling into the kiss when copper bursts bright between them.

It really only continues escalating from there.

The Valar tell them that they cannot return to Beleriand and Elwing accepts this easily, for she has no reason to return. Sirion is destroyed, naught but ash and rubble and dried blood. The Fëanorians had kidnapped her sons and, she is sure, slain them before she and Eärendil even reached Valinor. There is nothing left for her there.

It takes four years for rumors to reach her ears that her sons likely still live.

Fingon understood that hope was a choice. It was careful and deliberate, and it was hard, and the times when having hope seemed the most impossible were the times one had to choose it over and over again, every second of every day. This was the fundamental truth at the core of Fingon’s beliefs, the centre around which he understood the world and his place in it.

Very seldom did he waver in this conviction more than he did in the months following the Dagor Bragollach.

***

Fingon inherits the crown. Maedhros comes to Barad Eithel in the hour of his grief. Together, they figure out a way to move forward.

When uneasy dreams bring him back into Beleriand, Daeron finds a pair of twins who have lost their home, and an enemy who has lost himself. The Shadow's reach is growing ever longer, and if they are to survive, they must do it together.

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?

The impossible happened: a Silmaril has been stolen from Morgoth’s crown. Maedhros decides to reunite the People of Beleriand against the Enemy and attack him while he is still unprepared, which is by no means less impossible. Meanwhile, in the hidden city of Gondolin, Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower pursues the meaning of his recurring dreams – only to realize that he is not the only one to see them...

|| A novel-length canon gapfiller on the Union of Maedhros, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the downfall of the Sons of Feanor; plus my take on what could have been going on in Gondolin between the Bragollach and the Nirnaeth. ||

Eärendil and Elwing reflect upon their personal and political future during a very long and intimate night

Fëanor shrugged, studying the contents of his wine glass. “Something must be done about that house. It will fall down eventually.”
“It does not follow that it must be you that tears it down single-handedly. Are you sure you do not want help?”
“It’s not as though I have much else to do. I need to build something new there,” he said after a few moments. “To do that, I must first clear away the old and broken things.”

Decades out of Mandos, too many things in Fëanor's life remain broken. He can't do anything except wait for his sons to come to him, but he can do something about the old and crumbling house where they once lived. 

Lalwen after the Dagor Bragollach.

This is a draft of one of nine short stories set within the Tolkien Legendarium, each recounting a possible origin for one of the Nine Mortal Men corrupted by the rings of Sauron.

Indis visits Formenos in the aftermath of the Darkening

On Tides of Light, Antariëarcalindalë, begins with Elwing's arrival upon the shores of Eldamar after her flight from the ruins of Sirion. After Eärendil goes alone into Valinor, Elwing is brought to Alqualondë. Rather than hurrying toward the celestial ascent of Vingilot, the core of the narrative is the salt-crusted halls of Alqualondë, where the Falmari must finally confront the devastating history of Beleriand's three kinslayings. 

Elwing must plead the Teleri to bear the Host of the West across the Sea. Despite a mother, survivor and also bearer of a Silmaril - the First Age converged on her: the weight of its sins, its accumulated grief, and the grace through which salvation may yet enter history.

Finarfin was always tired, but suddenly he was exhausted, just by this conversation. It would just go in circles if they let it, neither of them willing to concede to the other. He didn’t have the words for what he really wanted to say—and even if he did he wouldn’t say them. They would be a child’s words, just hurt that he had been left alone while his older brothers and sisters had gone off without him, taking everything with them that he had ever held dear. 

Family is complicated, and Finarfin is tired.

On an evening of late summer, in the shining hour of the mingling, Prince Curufinwë Fëanáro strides into Taniquetil’s teeming festival halls with the new-wrought Silmarils blazing upon his brow. That night, fire consumes Findaráto’s dreams.

***

Finrod struggles under the weight of foresight.

Gwindor and Celebrimbor share their fears, after a council meeting in which Túrin got his way.

Tata is offered a solution to a grave problem, at a very low price...

Of course, she knew that in the Blessed Land, true harm was unlikely to come to him. The Valar watched over them all, and the lesser spirits were everywhere. It was a great hound of Oromë who had found him happily splashing in the creek, in fact. But anyone could drown in mere moments, even in Valinor. Her heart needed a break.

A story about Nerdanel, the total self-obliteration of motherhood, and what comes after.

In the wake of Sauron's death, his Mouth remembers Númenor.

He has perhaps made a great mistake, but it's too late now.