New and Updated Fiction

Tar-Miriel, last queen of Numenor, reigns in name only. Isolated and hopeless, she seeks little more than survival. As the doom of Numenor draws near, she finds herself facing unexpected temptations and strange alliances.

Written for TRSB summer 2023 for art by elvencloud_a_plotting

A Dwarf tries to come to terms with the cataclysm that was the end of the First Age. A four-drabble sequence.

“And yet is it not the greater folly to imagine that such love could never grow between our kinds? Was it not folly for us to be made thus and yet driven to dwell together and take up arms together?” She cupped his face in her hand, beseeching him. “Would not the One, who your people say commands the Music of the world—though my people hear it not—have surely foreseen such a grief? And if he did foresee such grief and did nothing, allowing it to pass, what difference is there between his allowance and his will? And if he did will such a grief, then how can your people say that he is good?”

Andreth shares with Aegnor what the Wise say of Men's original nature, and of the wound dealt to them by Morgoth.

“I would honor the customs of thy people, Andreth, and marry thee in the manner of thy people,” he said at last.

“And if I did not want to?” she asked, so soft she barely heard her own voice. “If I wished to marry thee in the manner of thy people?” Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze.

Aegnor drew in an uneven breath, swift and sharp. His gaze roved her face, tracing her features. When he spoke, his voice was rough but tender. “I would take thee away, to the south or east, and marry thee under the light of the stars. And there none would speak against our union. And I would be thine and thou would be mine in every way that there is.”

A summer evening spent in a glade near the shores of the Aeluin.

The rise and fall of the House of Fëanor, told in 17 kisses. Each is a perfect drabble.

Gil-galad is released from the Halls of Mandos in the Fourth Age, but settling into Tirion is not as easy as she would hope.

Written for Tolkien Gen Week on Tumblr.

Fëanor takes a momentary interest in a youthful Fingolfin.

After his death, Fingolfin does not go to the Halls of Mandos.

In Numenor, Mairon contemplates a sacrifice.

Fingon records a selection of details about his life from the Fourth Age onwards.

The Grinding Ice proves a deadly trap for Elenwë and her daughter. Turukáno is willing to give his own life to save that of his wife and child, and almost succeeds.

Erestor and Gil-galad are not friends, to say the least, barely tolerating each other for Elrond's sake.

Their comfortable enmity, however, is interrupted one night, when Erestor finds Gil-galad at his door, hurt and terrified.

Definition: An imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect.

‘And that is the device of the house of Bëor,’ Elwing adds. ‘My house.’

‘Mine too,’ Tuor says. ‘In part.’

-

Tuor, a young Elwing, and the remnants of the Edain in the havens of Sirion.

When Tuor can't find Eärendil, he sends for Maeglin to help.

They sat in silence for a little while, until Maglor finished his cup of water and sighed. “There is something on your mind,” he said. “Out with it.”

To his vague surprise, Elros did not look up. He carefully plucked another flower and added it to his growing chain. “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

“Not—just you. You and—everyone. Why did you come to Sirion?”

Who were Ulfang's people, and why did they betray the Elves? The truth as seen by Uldor, Caranthir, and Ulfang's granddaughter.

Quirky Tom is stumped in his investigation; his partner delivers the goods. (Deliberately misleading summary inspired by the challenge prompts! See Story Notes for more reliable information.)

In the aftermath of the Sack of the Falas, Fingon's daughter learns how to use the Elessar.

Written for Tolkien Gen Week on Tumblr (prompt: objects).

Celegorm took the javelin from the beast, examining it. He ran his finger over the blade, where the poison glistened in the sunlight, then sniffed his finger. His gaze flicked up to Eöl’s. Eöl thought to see anger or triumph flicker in the Elf-lord’s eyes, but they were cold and impassive, and when he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. “I wonder: Who was this meant for—your wife, or your son?”

Eöl felt the blood drain from his face, and he reached for the hilt of his sword.

Curufin is not the only son of Fëanor Eöl meets upon the plains of Himlad.

Or, Eöl meets Celegorm while pursuing Aredhel and Maeglin, and things go very badly for him.

In the aftermath of the Dagor Bragollach, a follower of Amras contemplates the future. Written for Tolkien Gen Week on Tumblr.

Gil-galad confronts her growing feelings for Elrond. Part of my Woman King AU.

The tide played around the horizon, only beginning to consider its daily sweep up the beach to the toes of Alqualondë. Eärwen waved to the far-off breakers and slid down to the wet sand, then turned and lifted Anaïre down. Anaïre pecked her on the cheek in thanks, and they started up the beach to the strand and the woman lying there sobbing for breath.

She did look young, close-up. That is, she looked like an Elf who had just reached full maturity, except where she did not. Around the eyes she bore little crinkles like the seafarers did, on her heaving belly the lightning-marks of pregnancy, and two fascinating rivers of silver ran into the light-gulping blackness of her hair from the temples. And, of course, there were the feathers

Conflicted, Aegnor seeks Angrod's counsel.

Indis tries to mend the rift within the House of Finwë. Fëanáro does not take kindly to it.