New and Updated Writing

Indis of the Vanyar, queen of the Noldor and a singer, discusses cultural differences with her step-grandson Maglor, the musician.

It was a custom done in scorn of death, Balan would tell Finrod later that night as they sat beside the fire in the hush of the midnight watch. He might come ever ravening among them, but they would scorn his maw. Even in their rotting they would lay claim to life.

Balan's people are on the road to Estolad. Finrod begins to suspect his own feelings, there is danger on the road, and we witness Atani burial rituals.

In that moment he envied for the first time the mortality of Men. He coveted a death that came upon you softly, death that whispered and held out a hand and let you slip into his arms in sleep. Death that passed his fingers over your eyes and left a visage in peace. Balan’s death.

It's the Fen of Serech, more or less. An oath for an oath, blood for blood.

Finrod felt the other’s panic strike his perception like a blow and was running even before Balan’s cry reached his ear. In a glance, his eyes took in the scene before him: the camp in sudden stillness, one of the Laiquendi staggering through the clearing, a limp body slung in his arms, Balan and Baran sprinting toward him.

It was Belen in his arms.

The Edain and the Laiquendi cross paths in the woods of Ossiriand and are faced with immediate conflict. Finrod and Estreth work to heal the damage, Balan (Bëor) tries to learn the communication of thought, and the Edain choose where their loyalty will abide.

It was danger only if the goal was avoidance, and Balan had no desire to escape. The urge to laugh returned and his heart dared Estreth’s cautions to be true so he might find himself ensnared forever, held motionless on this hilltop, a statue cradled within the other’s hands till the world’s ending. If his soul was consumed in the process, then let it be so. It was a fair price.

A few months after Finrod discovered the Edain near Thalos, he continues to dwell with them and form friendships. Balan (Bëor) attempts to learn multiple languages, some old folktales of the Edain come up in conversation, and Balan and Finrod discuss grief with a side of constellations. Balan has a crush.

“I convinced myself the situations were different. I built labyrinths within my reason to justify the pretense, and in their twisting ways I wandered blind till faced with her grief—the tribute paid in pain, as thou hast named it. Till then I could contend that I suffered so thou might be spared; I grieved so that thou might hold love in memory untarnished. That I learned at the feet of Doom to thus keep its step from thine own neck, and so should goodness come of it. Eru forgive me, I was wrong.”

After his conversation with Andreth forces him to face his own rationalizations and hypocrisies, Finrod realizes he needs to come clean to Aegnor and confesses to him both the consequences of his former advice, as well as his own secret grief that motivated it.

Sequel to 'Tinker, Tailer, Bromance, Spar' (itself sequel to 'Duty, Wine, Gossip, and Buoys') - so, I guess it's a 'verse now?

Two months, three weeks, and four days after returning home from an eventful/misfired/unrequited sojourn at the Guard Academy, Gil-galad and Elrond finally consummate their fast friendship turned mutual attraction.

Graphic, shameless, partially telepathic elf smut.

Combatants returning from the War of the Last Alliance to the coast of Gondor.

A vignette.

In the wake of Melkor’s latest swath of destruction, Aulë found Yavanna kneeling, disconsolate, on the barren ground.

Aegnor and Andreth and fires in the dark.

Arwen remembers a dream, Aragorn makes a prediction, and Minas Tirith flies.

Millenia later, Eärendil gets company on the Vingilot and remembers his childhood.

Oh, and there are hot air balloons.

Maedhros and Maglor disagree about the education of the Peredhil.

Fingon accidentally ends up taking Maedhros's hoodie home with him & finds his iPod Nano in his pocket. Modern AU

“We only have a few moments,” Arien whispers, her eyes sparkling like sunlight dancing upon water as she allows him to pull her closer.

“We need no more than that,” Tilion answers, dipping his head to meet hers and cradling her face in his hands, heedless of how the crackling heat of her scorches him.

They steal what moments they can.

Finrod watches his lover sleep and things about their coming deaths. Luckily, Balan wakes to comfort him.

Celebrimbor muses on the meeting that changed his life.

Sometimes it takes more than one night of passion to start a relationship on a sound footing. (Glorfindel/Erestor) Sequel to Osse's Gift.

Glorfindel knows that his clandestine affair with King Turgon will cause a scandal if discovered, especially since the King has outlawed all sexual relationships. But when Glorfindel seeks to understand his own heart, he discovers how impossible it is to keep secrets in Gondolin’s closed community.  Written for 2016 MSV.

Finwë and friends go West

“It is a high calling, then, to be counted among the Wise, Saelind,” Aegnor said, looking at her long with an expression that she could not read.

Andreth held his gaze, wordless, as some emotion that she could not name passed between them. Wise-heart, he had named her. Wise-heart, though she had lived but a moment compared to him and knew so little of what he knew of the world, born before the sun had ever risen.

They meet in springtime.

The long winter nights are not as cold when the lords of Dorthonion visit.

The twins have been difficult, and Celebrían desires a respite.

“Andreth fears for you,” Finrod says, barely louder than the popping of coals in the iron braziers that circle the tent’s interior. “She wishes for me to tell you not to be reckless, not to seek danger beyond need.”

Finrod watches his brother’s back as he stands silent. “Would you refuse her wish?”

Five times Finrod foresees Aegnor’s death, and one time he foresees his own.