New and Updated Fiction

Maedhros finds that regret and pain do not end with death. But it does at last bring release from the oath and he can at last embark upon the long, hard road toward redemption. 

They passed out of Lhûn and the wider coastline of Middle-earth opened up before his eyes. He had wandered those shores for centuries, and even now he felt the pull of that same wanderlust, and knew he would miss them for the rest of his life. Their wildness, the untamed waves, the rocky shores and the cliffs and the sandy beaches. The gulls, and the dunes, and the tide pools with their ever-changing denizens. Someone began to sing a song of farewell, and other voices took it up. He did not join them. 

Maglor keeps a promise, and comes to Valinor, only to find the ghosts he thought he'd left behind are alive and waiting for him. 

Melkor was once the mightiest of the Ainur. Why then was he unable to mar the stars of Varda, whom he hated most? Eönwë explains. 

Little moments of connection that Maedhros finds with his family. A collection of drabbles and other short writings to accompany One in the Fires of the Heart of the World.

"You should tell me to stop," Fëanáro says softly, taking the last step and pressing himself flush against Ñolofinwë.

Ñolofinwë swallows with some difficulty, tilts his head back against the door to meet Fëanáro's eyes. "You are my brother," he says, voice wavering. "We should not."

Fëanáro smiles wryly. "That is not telling me to stop."

If Aredhel had to listen to one more person heap praise on her brother while she stood right beside him, completely disregarded, she might scream. The praises were well deserved, she must admit. But was it only Fingon who scouted ahead over the treacherous shifting ice of the Helcaraxë? Didn’t Aredhel also take her fair share of that hazardous duty?

In the early days at Lake Mithrim, Aredhel endures a restriction in her freedom after the comparative autonomy she had during the crossing of the Helcaraxë. Fingolfin seems set on weighing her down with safe and mundane duties. Aredhel is not enjoying this one bit. Her father may be able to keep her inside the encampment, but he cannot tame her. She longs to for greater freedom, but when it comes it is not be the victory she was hoping for. 

As the Sons of Fëanor set their feet on the path to the sack of Doriath, Caranthir reflects on the characters of himself and his brothers and contemplates where the responsibility lies for their predicament.

A collection of drabbles about women in Tolkien's Legendarium. 

A series of contributions for Akallabêth in August 2009 in response to the following prompts: 1) Sauron fortifies Mordor; 2) Sauron begins to afflict Númenórean settlements to the south; 3) Sauron convinces Ar-Pharazôn to break the Ban of the Valar; 4) storms from the West strike Númenor; and 5) Sauron returns to Middle-earth.

MEFA 2010. Winner, First Place; Genres: Character Study: The Silmarillion.

“You said,” Fëanáro says quietly, taking a step forward, “that I shall lead, and you shall follow.”

Ñolofinwë bites down the urge to take a step back as Fëanáro takes another step forward. “I said those words and I meant them. You are my brother and now my king, why should I not follow where you go?”

Fëanáro is regarding him far more seriously than he had that night as they stood in front of Manwë and Ñolofinwë wishes to know what brought this on. “And if I were not your king?” Fëanáro asks. “If I were your half-brother only?”

Or: Fëanáro does not steal away with the ships in the middle of the night, leaving Fingolfin to brave the bitter cold. Whether what he does instead is any better depends on who you ask.

When the Istyari of Second Age Ost-in-Edhil deny her a place in an important new initiative to be taken up by the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, a young master smith struggles to make her mark in the man's realm of the forges.   An opportunity arrives when the smith is offered a commission that will present challenges of both mind and heart.

Pandë!verse-centric.

Rated Adult.  Specific advisories will be posted per chapter as needed.

Two — count 'em, two — new chapters posted!

Chapter 10, In the Bright Light of Morning

Summary:  The morning after arriving in Ost-in-Edhil, Elrond and Erestor each suffer from the aches and pains of the long road from Mithlond as well as from other sources.

Chapter 11, The Path's Heart

Summary: Elrond finds a nearly comatose Mélamírë in dire straits.  She resists his attempts to reach her through sanwe-latya, until, with her permission, he gives her a bitter medicine that allows them to share a dream, called the lugnolossê by an ancient shaman of the Unbegotten.

Fëanor spends more nights than he cares to admit to at Fingolfin’s these days. More time than he cares to admit to thinking about Fingolfin these days. Feels some days though as if Fingolfin is the only bit of this new age that is easy at this point.

Maeglin tries his hand at the Beginners' prompts of the Matryoshka Challenge (Total crack)

Nogrod vs Doriath, in the first match of the F. A. 503 finals season. Will Doriath at the top of the ladder beat Nogrod, currently at third on the ladder, or will Nogrod's strong side be victorious?

A dream that Elrond never mentioned to Maglor son of Fëanor.

Maglor finds himself alone with only sorrow and song for companions. But lamentation can neither undo the sorrows of which it tells, nor turn new hardships aside.

The footsteps come to a stop in front of him and he does not have a moment to wonder at his brother’s intentions before fingers are sliding into his hair and tugging his head back. He glares up at Fëanáro, tears on his cheeks, heart racing like a plea. Fëanáro stares back, expression strangely blank as he studies Ñolofinwë’s face. And despite his thoughts, despite his belief, he still finds himself smiling mirthlessly and asking, “Well, have you come to kill me in truth? Make your exile worth it?”

Something flickers through Fëanáro’s eyes too fast for him to catch and the fingers in his hair tighten painfully. “I would have thought that upon successfully usurping the crown you would be far more pleased,” Fëanáro says darkly, lip curling in disgust.

Gil-galad, Hamilton lyrics and three poignant events in his life.

This is a history that has never been told. Those whom it concerns most deeply are dead now, even those who chose or otherwise received the lifespans of Elves. It is a story that has been kept hidden for more than six thousand years. Now, I believe it is past time it should be revealed.

Fëanáro was sitting on the floor, his back against the grave marker his father had had made for his mother when her spirit fully settled into Mandos’ Halls.

He was alone on Estë’s island, deep within Lórien’s gardens. Of course he was. When was he not?

Even his father didn’t bother coming anymore.

Fingolfin feels like part of him is still stuck in Beleriand, blood on his teeth and an all-consuming anger splintering out of control. Like he'll blink and once again see Morgoth's foot coming down. He wants. What does he want? He does not wish to be dead. He is, he supposes, grateful for this chance to fix things as much as they can be fixed. But he wants.

He wants for Fëanor to know him. Wants to work through all the ugly words and acts of violence that had divided them and come out the other side better for it. He cannot throw all the scathing anger in his chest at a brother who does not understand. Cannot scream at this Fëanor for burning the boats, for leaving them to the ice, for Elenwë, for Arakáno, for the countless others who had followed him and paid for it. And so what is he meant to do with the anger? He cannot swallow it all down forever and also salvage his relationship with Fëanor in this new song.

He wants, he thinks, watching a potter unmake a bowl that was marred, to un-sing himself as well.

Nerdanel ran her fingers along one, and turned her thoughts to her son, hoping for a glimpse of more than a misty shore, or of the ragged hem of his cloak. She wished to see his face, wished to see that he was somewhere safe and warm and perhaps not still alone after so long. But even a glimpse of him lonely but whole upon the shore would be a relief, and enough to banish the dreams that had troubled her, knowing them for just dreams and nothing more.

Troubled by dark dreams, Nerdanel picks up a palantír to seek for Maglor. She finds him. 

After, Maedhros has returned to life and also seeks for his brother--and also finds him.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the lantern light. He stared at Elrohir with a strange look—horror and helpless fear mixed with longing and perhaps…recognition? But Elrohir did not recognize him, he was sure. And there was something else in his eyes too—a Light that Elrohir had seen before only in a handful of people, dimmed by pain and fear, but not extinguished. “It’s all right,” Elrohir said. “We’re going to take you away from this place.” 

The Necromancer is driven from Mirkwood, and Elladan and Elrohir find someone altogether unexpected in the pits of Dol Guldur.

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”

-The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 6 "Lothlórien"

A collection of drabbles exploring the beauty of mingled joy, hope and sorrow in Tolkien's world. 

Embittered by Aldarion's departure on a long overseas journey against her will, Erendis dismisses the pair of wonderful Elven-birds that were given to her by visitors from Tol Eressea during her honeymoon. The birds briefly visit Erendis's parents on their flight back to Tol Eressea, but will not let themselves be touched and afterwards, it seems, they are not seen or heard again in Numenor.

 "Sweet fools, fly away!" Erendis said. "This is no place for such joy as yours."

I have written a fix-it for the loss of the Elven-birds, sort of.