New and Updated Fiction

Fëanor confesses the truth of his identity to a fellow apprentice in a moment of crisis. 

Theme from generator: my mom, my BFF (okay generator you are really asking me to turn the angst to the max)

Then, all of a sudden, it began to rain—a gentle but steady rain, cool but not cold, that washed away the mists and dripped like gentle tears down their faces. Another voice wound through the hills and barrows around them, wordless, but young and ancient as spring, and warm, and welcoming.

Part two of 'Children of Ilúvatar'. 

The expedition of Fingolfin crosses the plain to the Halls of Angrod. 

“Behave or the Easterlings will get you,” is a common enough saying in the west. No equivalent of this saying exists in the east, for the Easterlings have never found it necessary or kind to threaten their children with kidnaping and violence to get them to behave." An eastern woman's thoughts on Gondor. 

Fingolfin meets Hador Lórindol, and Gildis. 

Nimloth doesn't want her father or Lúthien's to know they're together. 

It's not because they would disapprove.

Deep under the earth, a balrog is sleeping. It doesn't take kindly to being wakened. Crack?

In which Tyelkormo has a hangover, Findaráto gets a black eye, and Turukáno has some big news.

A short glimpse into the life of Arwen Undomiel, Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, in the early Fourth Age. (Writter to a Tumblr prompt.)

Three moments between Narvi and Celebrimbor: first meeting, under the mountain, the Doors of Durin. (Drabble sequence.)

 Finrod takes a trip north to visit his cousins, taking a notable piece of jewelry with him and imparting some interesting revelations regarding the customs of the Dwarves.

This is a legend told regarding Marhwini, first Lord of the Eothéod, by the women of that people during Rohan's founding.

Forgiveness takes time. Healing takes longer.

“I am not going to… to use you,” he protested. “I could not!”
“Then tie me lovingly and command me gently, if that suits you better,” Fingon said. “But the crown I wear is heavy, and for once I want someone else,” he curled his fingers in Maedhros’ hair, “to decide where I will go and what I will do.”

"The dead call to Rían and she answers them, not wholly willingly, like a parent, roused in the night by the cries of her child, knowing that, should she ignore it, the consequences will be much worse." How she died. 

Their story might not be as great as the ones that make it into legends, but Glorfindel would still not have any other.

Caranthir is a socially awkward public servant and Amarië is a politically radical performance artist when a prestigious battle of the bards entices them to come together in an unexpected friendship that produces an even less-expected new musical genre. Part of the Republic of Tirion series but you don't have to be familiar with the other stories to understand this one. Also featuring the printing press, underground nightclubs, an electric guitar, and Caranthir's bitchy resting face.

Summary

That old villain Melkor, Ungoliant in tow, had plagued Valinor, vandalizing trees, swiping jewels—oh, yes, and killing poor Finwe—then done a bunk.

In this bit, we join them in Middle-earth to observe the end of a not-so-beautiful friendship…ah…partnership.

Thingol trusts his kin above all others. When he receives word from Finrod, it is his young kin he sends to meet the representatives of the Noldor. 

What if Fëanor's spirit never left the halls of Mandos because it never went there in the first place?

Fëanor, dead, watches the First Age unfold and from time to time, joins in. Canon-compliant character death and a detailed account of the Eastern Front of the War of Wrath. [Thanks to pp for beta reading] 

The road from Tirion is harsh and difficult but Nolofinwë finds his arrival in Beleriand far different than he expected.

Written for the Teitho contest prompt "Expectation."

Gwindor considers the best route home.

Gil-Galad reflects on his heritage and pens a letter to the man he thinks (hopes?) might be his father.

He thought it was over, the darkest days of grief had passed, giving way to slivers of sunlight and new hope growing.
For a while, he was right.

And then he wasn't, then he was sucked right back into those grim days, trying to keep his heart from breaking but knowing it would inevitably shatter in his breast.

There was only one choice left, and it was no choice at all; it was despair and a guilt he would carry until the end of days, guilt under which he would become a version of himself he hardly recognised...

Or, the story of the Queen of Greenwood and the King who banished her for love and a desperate hope... and the shattered family she left behind.

Sparring Finwean cousins.

May-June Challenge Entry - Competition/Prompt: Lucie Jones: Never Give Up On You lyrics – 2017 Eurovision Song Contest