New and Updated Fiction

Ñolofinwë makes a pained noise and pulls back enough to look him in the face, before his eyes seem to get caught on Fëanáro’s collar, on his chest, his shoulders. “You are in my colors,” Ñolofinwë says softly, traces his finger along Fëanáro’s collarbone and down the front of his tunic. His eyes, when they meet Fëanáro’s once more, are blown out with a disgusting, greedy desire, and understanding strikes Fëanáro.

“Oh,” he breathes, thinking that he should likely have guessed at the reason on his own. He had anticipated that the outfit would garner a reaction from Ñolofinwë, this is true. He cannot say that this was ever one of the reactions he had anticipated. “How shameful of you,” he says quietly, watching the way Ñolofinwë’s eyes drop down to his mouth as he speaks. “Does it not shame you that you should want me in such a way?”

Celebrian has a few demands for her wedding

Beleg seeks, by all means that he might, to persuade Túrin to return to Doriath with him. But two can play at this game.

In Valinor, little Tyelpë wakes up from a scary dream and braves the shadows to find his Atto, who will keep him safe from any monsters lurking in the dark.

(Inspired by a cut snippet from chapter 3 of my fic "but for the look in his eyes". It's not necessary to read that before reading this, however.)

He knows that he’s supposed to say, if he’d known what would happen, he wouldn’t have done it. That he wouldn’t have paced through the halls, watching the tapestries appear, and seen his brother poised in front of Morgoth, preparing to fight, preparing to die, and gone a bit mad with grief.

He knows he should say he would not again go find a tapestry of where it all went irrevocably wrong and begin shredding it apart.

But he is suddenly standing in the middle of the library, treelight dancing through the windows, and staring at him with open mouthed shock is Ñolofinwë. So no, he finds he does not regret it at all.

Fëanáro thinks of many things during his exile for he has nothing but time and a chest full of fury.

He thinks of his hatred for Melkor. He thinks of his children and the toil the exile is taking on them even if they will not voice it. He thinks of his father and the disappointment he’d just barely been able to see hidden beneath the concern. He thinks of Nerdanel and cannot help but wonder if she saw this coming. More often than not though, he finds his thoughts dwelling on Ñolofinwë.

On how wide and endlessly blue his eyes had gone when Fëanáro had set the point of the sword to his throat.

One set of twins meets another. A tragic start to the kidnap family, from Amrod's point of view.

“I do love you, Russandol. You know I do, do you not?”

For a long, drawn-out moment, Maedhros only stares. Something is taking root in his chest, something he knows, then, he will not be able to extricate from himself again. “I know,” he says, voice rough. “I—“

But Fingon stops him, pressing a hand to Maedhros’ mouth. “Don’t, not yet; tell me when we see each other next.”

---

Five times they share their own small ritual upon separation and reunion, and one time it takes a little longer than either of them can endure to mark its completion.

Everyone, including the Valar, are convinced that Fingon and Maedhros are lovers no matter how many times they explain that they very much are not. When will they get it through their thick skulls that there are other ways to love and be committed to someone? Apparently not soon enough. When the Valar decide to involve Maedhros and Fingon in their meddling, it leads to some interesting circumstances.

A queerplatonic take on Maedhros and Fingon's relationship for Russingon Week, with some Gil-Galad parentage exploration for fun.

Klexos: Views of the Death of Míriel (3 Narvinyë - 30 Víressë, 8 Fourth Age) represents the first public exhibition collecting textile-based approaches to the death of Míriel Serindë, including Amanyar and Middle-earth works spanning four ages. The symposium is held in conjunction with this exhibit through the generous collaboration of the University of Valimar.

And of course, of course it is about the boats. Fingon wants—oh, Fingon wants to forgive Maedhros so badly, but he dreams of leaping flames, of the feeling in his chest like something is crushing his ribs, slowly, inevitably, to dust and grime.

“What do you want, Makalaurë?” he asks again, except that this time, it comes out angry. He has ever had an atrocious grip on his temper.

“You should ask him about it.”

---

Forgiveness takes time and honesty. Fingon has never been a patient person; Maedhros, in recent times, has not been an honest one.

Eventually, they work it out.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Findekáno stills, and finally looks at Maitimo. Finds him already staring back, unflinching and—hungry, almost, Findekáno would call it, if he did not know better.

“I have not,” he says, his heart hammering madly inside his rib cage. Still, he adds, all bravado, “Why? Have you?”

---

It starts reckless and stupid. Which is to say, it starts with them.

Now a great crowd of spirits, both Elves and lingering Men, were gathered before the newest tapestry as it fell open down the wall, luminous, gold and silver threads glittering in the pale light of Mandos.

What is it to be made for a kinder world?

An artisan can never forget what she has made, for a part of her soul goes into the making. (Nerdanel character study/ficlet in six parts.)

Fíriel spends one last night with her lady.

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

Eru Ilúvatar made them all.

For an Age of the world, Valinorean readers have devoured Doctor Heriel's bestselling tales of animal leeching in the beautiful environs of the Elf-city of Alqualondë. This new translation into Westron will introduce a generation of readers in the Eastern Lands to the gentleness of spirit, warm humor, and love for the animal world that have secured Doctor Heriel's literary reputation across the Sea.

Drabbles from the life of Emlinn, Maglor's Sindarin student from Brithombar, who is the narrator of my story "The West Wind Quartet".

Insta-drabbles written on the SWG Discord back in December 2020 (which apparently I did not cross-post here?), with another one written in June 2025. 

Warnings for some canon-typical violence and angst, and a bit of internalized body dysphoria and bias.

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. 

"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 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.