New Challenge: Everyman
Create a fanwork about an ordinary character in the legendarium using a quote about an unnamed character as inspiration.

Maedhros dies and opens his eyes to Losgar, to ships unburnt, and a heart like a mad thing. It depends on who you ask if this is a good thing or not.

Maedhros closes the shutters, one by one. "You're late," he says, voice low but not unkind.

The Lord of the Eagles would not take them anywhere near where men lived. "They would shoot at us with their great bows of yew," he said, "for they would think we were after their sheep. And at other times they would be right..."
~ The Hobbit, Chapter VI
An Eagle of Manwë is stealing people's sheep. Fingon investigates.

There was, he thinks slowly, trudging through the grief mired thoughts, gold ribbons coated in blood, a cold bed, a gaping emptiness in his mind where a marriage bond used to hum. There were years and years with only his brothers and even those dwindled with time.
His ears catch on a voice raised high, panicked, and then with terrifying force, the marriage bond snaps back into place, filling an emptiness he’d only just begun to grasp the edges of, and everything goes very sharp and clear.
Fingon, he thinks, feels the answering burst of confusion, fear, hope. “Fingon.”

Maedhros comes to Barad Eithel after the Dagor Bragollach and the fall of Fingolfin.

Some drabbles from the 1/19/2025 instabrabbling event

The mountain has always been a place of growth and safety and memory. It will stand in the face of war and water, fated to last until the end of Arda. The spirit of Himring will watch, and remember.
Or - the history of Arda through the eyes of Himring personified.

After the attack on the Havens of Sirion, a figure from Maedhros' past comes face-to-face with him one last time.

Maedhros' rescue from Thangorodrim left him deeply scarred. But how did it impact Fingon as his rescuer? A drabble sequence from Thangorodrim to the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

In the First Age, Fingon traveled to Rerir after discovering Turgon's disappearance. In the Fourth Age, he travels to Rerir again in Beleriand Risen.
A tale told in drabbles.

These are the first fanfics I ever read, and they are all truly fabulous and absolutely timeless and 100% recommended!

After a drunken night at Minas Tirith, Fingon and Orodreth wake up married with a baby on the way.

It is not, Maedhros thinks, that Fingon is no longer angry. It is just that Fingon has never let anything as clean-cut as betrayal stop him from loving Maedhros in despite.
After everything, they are just a little insane about each other.

At Ivrin, during the aftermath of the Mereth Aderthad.
A brief vignette.

Two years before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Húrin and Huor journey from Dor-lómin to Eithel Sirion for a war council with their new allies from the East. A story about the stirring of hope and foreshadowing of woe. Well-peppered with humour.

Fingon returns to Barad Eithel after a late-autumn hunt, finding someone unexpected with his wife. The night takes an even more unexpected turn for all three of them.

Created for the 'Geography/Maps/Places' prompt on the "Tolkien meta" bingo board, this is a collection of maps marked with the various people groups showing how they arrived and moved about Beleriand. This collection focuses specifically on the time from the arrival of the Teleri, Vanyar, and Noldor before they went to Aman up to the distribution of the various kingdoms after the Flight of the Noldor, when they arrived in Middle-earth and settled there.

"Would it help,” Maedhros starts, his tone pensive and his fingers pressing more firmly against Maglor’s jaw. “Would it help if I did not forgive you as easily? If I punished you for what you did not, could not do?”
It takes a moment for Maglor to understand, Maedhros pushing images into his mind—of rope and chains and bruised skin, of pain and pleasure mingling without release.
It makes him shiver, the thrill quickly followed by shame hot enough that he wants to flinch from it.
Maglor is unable to let go of his guilt. Maedhros gets inventive about it.

“A pity,” Fingon says, and his grin looks only a little forced. “Will you dance with me regardless?”
Maedhros first instinct is to say no. Elbereth, he should say no. But he looks at Fingon with his flushed cheeks, the braids coming loose, the banked hope in his eyes. The way the slant of his mouth reveals that he expects a rejection, and how he asks regardless.
Maedhros has always been terrible at denying him anything. It is why he had put half a continent between them, why he knew that coming here was a mistake before he so much as left Himring’s walls.
Maedhros believes that Fingon deserves something better. Fingon disagrees.

It is too much to ask, Findekáno knows. If there is one thing he understands it is loyalty, the way it sits on your shoulders, the crushing weight and comforting form of it. Maitimo can no more turn his back on his family than Findekáno can, and that, more than anything, has always been their most wretched similarity.
One last meeting on the Eve of the Fëanorians' exile.

His gaze, inevitably, is drawn back to Finrod, the marred beauty of him. It has not been Curufin who ruined him so—had not been Curufin who had dragged him out of Nargothrond and into the wolf’s den, who had let Finrod protect him with his life. And yet.
And yet it feels oddly fitting, that such a ruined thing should be Curufin’s.
Through careful manoeuvring and a few lucky coincidences, Curufin saves Finrod's life without having to admit to anything so humiliating as having emotions. Contrary to what one would expect, this does not make things all that much easier.
Alternatively: Curufin lies, Finrod lives, and somehow they do still manage to figure it out, for better or for worse.

Berion, captain of Barad Eithel under King Fingon, laments Fingon's death and the loss of his home.

Makalaurë was sitting at the harp in his music room. He was holding a dark blindfold in his hands and was looking at it with much scepticism.

In which Legolas Greenleaf dreams he is in the First Age. Time is strangely haywire and there are a lot of Noldor royalty talking about ravens. More importantly nobody has offered him a drink.
Or: a medieval Welsh story adapted with Silmarillion characters (and Legolas)