New and Updated Writing

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.

Egalmoth has his fears, when Earendil sets sail, but also pins his hope on him.

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.

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.

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.

Compared to Salgant and Bombur, and even compared to Fredegar Bolger, Forlong seems to have the least problems in the Legendarium with being duly respected despite his girth.

But maybe even he had a less good time of it when he was younger.

Set during Aragorn's time in Gondor as Thorongil.

A slightly different take on Maedhros' end in half a drabble. 
Plus half a drabble of Maglor's.

Maglor's inevitably sad thoughts, with a very young Elrond asleep on his lap after a nightmare. Maedhros and young Elros are nearby.

(Updated a year and more later, with a link to a painting, and a new 'chapter' with the thoughts of Maedhros in the painting scene).

Years of the Lamps. Mairon has come home early from the celebrations to some alone time, but Melkor’s visit destroys both his plans and the peace of his mind.

Valandil, Isildur's fourth son and successor, re-enters Annuminas, some years after the victory of the Last Alliance.

Finarfin comes to Nargothrond during the War of Wrath

Yavanna renews the land with the rising of the Sun and Moon

On moonless nights when he could not sleep, Finrod wandered.

Grief awaits you outside these halls, Fëanáro, Nienna told him, her voice like the gentlest fall of rain upon spring leaves. 

Grief haunts me inside them, Fëanor replied.

Fingolfin does not look up from his book when he hears footsteps approaching and pays no attention to Fëanor walking into the room. What he emphatically does pay attention to is Fëanor going to his knees in front of the chair he is sprawled sideways across and burying his face against Fingolfin’s stomach, both of his hands clenching tight around Fingolfin’s shirt. He blinks down at Fëanor’s head in confusion and runs a hand over his head, dragging his fingers through Fëanor’s hair. “Náro?” he asks quietly. “Has something happened?”

Uinen and Ossë have lost track of the Noldor's Songbird, his laments gone silent. When they do, Uinen nurses him back to health, and then some.

A poem for the first born sons in the House of Finwe, each one attributed a season - Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring.