Fanworks Tagged with Finarfin

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you're in the wind, i'm in the water by atlantablack

Fingolfin feels like part of him is still stuck in Beleriand, blood on his teeth and an all-consuming anger splintering out of control. Like he'll blink and once again see Morgoth's foot coming down. He wants. What does he want? He does not wish to be dead. He is, he supposes, grateful for this chance to fix things as much as they can be fixed. But he wants.

He wants for Fëanor to know him. Wants to work through all the ugly words and acts of violence that had divided them and come out the other side better for it. He cannot throw all the scathing anger in his chest at a brother who does not understand. Cannot scream at this Fëanor for burning the boats, for leaving them to the ice, for Elenwë, for Arakáno, for the countless others who had followed him and paid for it. And so what is he meant to do with the anger? He cannot swallow it all down forever and also salvage his relationship with Fëanor in this new song.

He wants, he thinks, watching a potter unmake a bowl that was marred, to un-sing himself as well.

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it is not a sacrifice if you lose nothing in the giving by atlantablack

In which Fingolfin is tired and everyone else is just along for the ride, even if they would really rather not be.

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Competition by Artano

Finrod answers a tutor's question before Caranthir can

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Happy Begetting Day by Ecthelion

The tale of how the sons of Fëanor were conceived and named, and how the daughters came into being in the other two houses.

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Finding Peace by StarSpray

“You seemed so unhappy when you arrived yesterday, but today you are so much more relaxed. Did you quarrel with Nolofinwë? Or with Fëanáro?”

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empty spaces by queerofthedagger

Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; Finarfin needs no doom, no treasonous brothers, no Middle-earth to believe it true.


The House of Arafinwë before, during, and after its Exile. A history told in an assortment of loosely connected drabbles.

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Collection of Potluck Drabbles by Artano

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

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like thread through needle by queerofthedagger

What is left of it, you wonder?


Finrod, on the eve of the War of Wrath.

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Close As Brothers by cuarthol

Ñolofin offers some brotherly advice as Arafin awaits the birth of his firstborn, and Arafin hopes the soon-to-be cousins will share a bond as well.

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Crossroads by Gwanath Dagnir

Of Elros and Elrond growing up in the First Age during the War of Wrath.

Chapter 1: circa 562 F.A. - the long winning streak of Finarfin's renowned Liberators comes to an end when an orc raid does not go according to plan, and the twins must accept a new path

Chapter 2: circa 546 F.A. - winds of change reach the Feanorians' remote encampment in Ossiriand, and an unexpected messenger brings news from Valinor

Chapter 3: circa 567 F.A. - years have passed since the Peredhil assumed their new role, when an unexpected detour brings them closer to familiar territory

Chapter 4: circa 547, F.A. - Finarfin has an ultimatum if the Feanorians wish to retain a place in his host during the Great War to come

 

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the raging storm of a foreign war, and a face i'd seen before by arafinweanappreciation

“Tell me…” the exhausted king said, looking directly into the commander’s eyes. He was covered in grime, soot and dirt, ash and blood, mud and sweat. His eyes were haunted. The War took its toll, after all, the very ground itself turning against them. The ruby light of the flames only served to reveal their hollowness. “The forces here. The orcs. Never before have I ridden against a host who parts and flees at the very sight of me. Why do they do so now?”

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Queen's Gambit by Grundy

A chance find while tidying up Indis' rooms leads to revelations no one was expecting.

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The Son Still Shines by cuarthol

The War brings Finarfin close to the ruins of Nargothrond where Finrod once ruled.

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The Question of Succession by elennalore

After hearing the Doom of Mandos, Arafinwë returns to Valinor where the remaining Noldor need a new ruler. It appears that the Valar have already made their choice.

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A Tree Named Celeborn by Himring

After the War of Wrath, what was originally planned as a temporary stay (a kind of moral quarantine) on Tol Eressea turns into a permanent settlement. And so we also get another chapter in the history of the White Tree(s).

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Rebuilding by clotho123

Early in the Second Age Finarfin is visited by someone he barely knows.  It's awkward that she is his sister Findis.

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Finarfin and Eärwen on the Beach by UnicornsInSpace

A poem Finarfin writes about Eärwen after a walk on the beach together.

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Tengwar Drabbles by cílil

A collection of Silmarillion-centric drabbles written for the Tengwar Challenge. Short and sweet!

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Doubts by ohboromir

Reborn in Valinor, Glorfindel prepares for a momentous decision with the support of an old friend.

 

(For hennethgalad.)

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The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You by stormfallen

Elrond asks about his mother, in 100-word drabbles.

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The Light is Still There by Aldwen

Do wars start with the first fired arrow and end with the last? Or maybe they start already with the realization that they need to be fought? And never truly end, as long as the memory of them haunts those who took part? Arafinwë’s story of the War of Wrath. Previously posted on other sites.

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a blissful state by Noldotári

Upon his return from Númenor, Eönwë has memories to face, conversations to have, and old companions to meet.

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Along Came an Elf by dalliansss

After Oromë sends a Hunting Party to investigate the reports of proliferation of fell beasts far in South Aman, the entire errand goes horrifically wrong. Celegorm was prepared to die a grisly death, yet he dares to beg the Great Void Spider to spare his life, which to his surprise, the request is heeded. Then comes the most unlikely partnership and friendship in all of Arda, and its unexpected consequences.

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rulers make bad lovers by Chestnut_pod

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

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To Hold the Future in My Hand by cuarthol

Arafin seeks Elulindo's aid for a quest which will take them far to the south to waters filled with wonders he has never before seen.

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