New and Updated Fiction

Hurin at the shore of the Western Sea.

"Whatever the songs say, I am still only myself, and I miss my grandfather.”

Five times Eärendil asks for news of Turgon, and one time he does not have to.

Glorfindel seeks out Ecthelion on the beaches of Vinyamar. They talk of driftwood, the hidden city, and where they stand with each other.

She had learned the way Elves married, she did not wish to be tied to him, or him to her. She knew she was a fleeting thing in his long life, and she had her pride.

Haleth brings her son to Thargelion, seeking answers.

A long time later in Valinor, Maedhros is gathering confidence in his new life with Fingon. He remembers one particular morning during their past lives in Middle-earth.

Galadriel and Celeborn witness the end of the War of Wrath. 

Míriel invents pants.

After the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Glorfindel cares for a wounded Ecthelion and grapples with his fear.

Elladan and Elrohir demand the tale of how their favorite doll came to Imladris many centuries ago. Glorfindel the Doll obliges.

Fingolfin died. Or so he thought. Until he suddenly, disorientingly finds himself reliving one of the worst days of his life.

This time though, it goes differently.

Hador has been granted the lordship of Dor-lomin. Persuading his father to relocate there from the southern slopes of Ered Wethrin will not be easy, though.

Brandir of Brethil also loved Niënor, and his death stands among the tragedies of the Children of Húrin: an alliterative poem.

Celegorm and Aredhel ride towards the Aglon Pass through the rain.

Then Dírhavel sung of Túrin’s flight north after the Fall of Nargothrond, past the defiled waters of Ivrin as he sought for the Princess Finduilas Faelivrin, and Tuor rose suddenly from his seat, passing out of the hall without a word. 

The story of the first peredhel, fierce love, and how sometimes the laws of nature will let you think you defied them sucessfully before they catch up to you.

In Dor-lómin, Tuor and Lady Aerin both dream of a golden-haired child. (Lalaith is doing her best, considering that she's a young child and also dead.)

Hope is a weapon. Hope is a skill.

or, the art of not giving up in the face of the impossible, as seen through the eyes of fifteen people living in First Age Beleriand.

16 perfect 100 words drabbles, exploring this concept.

Fingolfin is confused by the rumors that spread through the elven settlements of Beleriand like a wildfire. So is his daughter found and alive, or not? And what is this utter poppycock about Celegorm getting pregnant?

The birth of Tylekormo Turkafinwë had been a joyous occasion.

But a memorable one.

A collection of flashfic, drabbles, and snippets.

A story about stew and how many people cook the same dish across the years. Spanning all the way from the Adanel and her family to the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen.
Across millennia, people come together to share food and good company.

The enchantments woven into the woods of Nan Emloth are nothing compared to maternal love.

And so, Aredhel grabs Lómion and runs.

The enchantments woven into the woods of Nan Emloth are nothing compared to the grief of knowing you could had saved your loved one.

And so, Celegorm waits.

Ecthelion had not shared Glorfindel's uncertainty, then—but it does not seem unreasonable now, nor so difficult to understand.

Ecthelion, Glorfindel, and post-Nirnaeth doubt.

If she's being honest, she's not yet quite sure why she's still a bit surprised that Caranthir has agreed to be here with her, just this once.

Caranthir, Haleth, and an early summer celebration.

It happens - as always - with no semblance of warning. The ice groans, then shifts, and a channel of dark, swiftly-churning water cleaves open beneath their feet.