New Challenge: Title Track
Tolkien's titles range from epic to lyrical to metaphorical. This month's challenge selected 125 of them as prompts for fanworks.

He was going to die. The molten rocks would burn him just like the cursed gem in his palm did. Maybe less painfully but still being burnt hurt and Maedhros knew it. He intimately knew it from his time in Angband where Þauron burnt him often in frustration and to toy with him and his master burnt his skin even more often just to mock his ancestry. At least here he would pass on to Mandos and not linger in pain only to be sewed back together to be tortured again and again.
But it wasn't true for his next clear memory was of the same pain from which he escaped soon and half-mad entered the Girdle to never never leave till now.

The second time Haleth found her way to the glade full of white and yellow flowers, she wasn’t hunting game. She was, however, looking for the stranger.
Haleth meets a stranger in the woods who changes her life forever.

The elves of Beleriand lose the first battle against Morgoth. The Noldor find the free lands they'd been looking for. Lúthien is on the warpath.
And the First Age still is as bloody as it is in canon.
(Please read the author's notes, there will reading-instructions, as this is my first attempt at a deconstructed fic)

For this month’s ‘The Only Thing To Fear’-challenge, I tried something a little different- which was to write short ficlets for as many prompts as possible. (Admittedly, I wanted them to be drabbles at first, but I just couldn’t manage).
Some of these turned more into PTSD-stories than phobias, but I think it still fits the challenge.

"Gather your strength, Daeron. I will get you to the Ford of Bruinen.”
“Will you swear it, kinslayer?” Daeron asked, voice heavy with irony and with something else Maglor couldn’t quite identify.
He paused for a moment. Then he said, “Yes.”

Fëanor did not know how to explain the ill-defined uneasiness and the almost instinctual dislike he felt, how impossible it was to reconcile the impression he had gotten from the tapestry in Mandos to the reality of Daeron in person, in life. “He seems careless,” he said, because he did not know how else to explain.
“That is certainly not true,” said Nerdanel, “though I know well that I cannot expect you to take my word for it. It is long since you placed any trust in anyone’s judgment aside from your own, flawed though it is.”
Midwinter is meant to be a time of feasting and merriment, but Fëanor does not find it so, especially with Daeron of Doriath in attendance.

Maedhros has received an invitation to one of Elu Thingol's exclusive charity galas. She opts to take her sister as a plus-one. She'll probably regret that.

“Come on.” Maedhros grabbed his hand and pulled him along down the path, both of them quickening their pace now, until the trees opened up into a wide meadow filled with flowers, bright yellow celandine and dandelions and sweet-scented pale chamomile mingling with cornflowers and irises. On the other side of it was a larger party than Maglor had ever seen in Lórien—five figures sitting in the grass. Huan barked again, and they all looked up. “It seems everyone has come to fetch us home,” Maedhros said, laughing, as all their brothers scrambled to their feet.
After years in Lórien, Maglor and Maedhros are ready to return to their family and to make something new with their lives--but to move forward, all of Fëanor's sons must decide how, or if, they can ever reconcile with their father.

Daeron misses Maglor, in StarSpray's wonderful Mezza Voce.

...everyone here seemed to think Daeron should return to them equally unchanged, the same merry minstrel he had been long ago before the Girdle had been breached. He was yet a minstrel, and he was often merry, but he had seen and done so much that so many here could never even imagine. He had come very close to death more than once, and yet survived. He did not care what others might think of him, really—except for a select few—but it would be tiresome to be always catching them off guard, and his love for one of the sons of Fëanor would catch many very much off guard, he knew.
Daeron settles back in among his own people, travels to Tirion--and meets Fëanor.

Maglor falls in love. Maedhros lets him.

Nine theses on Fate, divinity and Elvish theology, told through the philosophy and study of music.

Daeron is caught by orcs in the shadow of the Ephel Dúath, but is rescued by someone entirely unexpected.

They passed out of Lhûn and the wider coastline of Middle-earth opened up before his eyes. He had wandered those shores for centuries, and even now he felt the pull of that same wanderlust, and knew he would miss them for the rest of his life. Their wildness, the untamed waves, the rocky shores and the cliffs and the sandy beaches. The gulls, and the dunes, and the tide pools with their ever-changing denizens. Someone began to sing a song of farewell, and other voices took it up. He did not join them.
Maglor keeps a promise, and comes to Valinor, only to find the ghosts he thought he'd left behind are alive and waiting for him.

Maglor, Fingon and Finrod go for a picnic, and Maglor is in a bad mood. Written for the Dark Matter challenge prompt: 'the letter E'.

Maglor, a Jedi, gets roped into investigating the theft of the Silmarilli and some Sindarin treasures. His partner? The Singer Daeron.

The adventure(s) of Jedi Maglor and Singer Daeron.

In his own wanderings, Daeron comes to the shore--and finds Maglor.

This is a collection of true drabbles completed for the 'Four Words' drabble bingo card.

Lúthien escapes Menegroth for a clandestine meeting in the woods.

For the Tengwar prompt challenge.
All 36 prompts plus bonus chapter

Maglor prepares some Instructional Art for the Sindar to learn from at the Mereth Aderthad.

A love letter between Daeron and Maglor in the form of musical notation.
(Asemic music notation and song lyrics)