New Challenge: Epic 80s
This month's challenge features hundreds of fresh prompts from the bodacious decade of the 1980s.

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)

This, them, is a caricature as well. Fingon unleashes another row of blows upon Maedhros and does not think about the way it feels like penance and revenge both. Does not think about how this is the only way he still knows to touch Maedhros without fear.
After Thangorodrim, Maedhros needs to re-learn how to fight. It goes about as well as can be expected.

In that time before he had taken himself and his brothers East, taking Fingon back to his bed had been the last thing on his mind. After, in his cold fortress and alone with his thoughts, he had almost been grateful for it, for never having asked. As if this was something Fingon would still want—the ruined body, the betrayals like landmarks etched into it.
A sweltering summer day during the Long Peace, a cool lake, and a revelation; it is enough to bring back together what Maedhros thought lost.

“Show me your hand,” Maedhros says, once he seems satisfied. At Fingon’s frown, he rolls his eyes. “Your finger; you cut yourself before I got here.”
It hits Fingon like a punch. He had forgotten, the pain fading into the background, and now here Maedhros sits, alcohol and gauze in his naked lap because Fingon had cut himself on what was once, long ago, meant to be a betrothal gift.
He is sure that somewhere, some Vala is laughing at him.
In the wake of Fingolfin's death, Fingon's first instinct is to run East. It has been long years since Maedhros' arms meant comfort, and yet, at the end of it all, it may have been one of his better impulses.

Maitimo had allowed it, his eyes dark and knowing, even as it was a gamble. There is only one person who is known to wear gold in their hair like this; there is only one thing that wearing someone’s token means.
Much the same way that a crown signifies allegiance, Findekáno thinks, as Maitimo kneels in front of their grandfather’s throne.
The copper circlet Maitimo is crowned with is a work of art. He finds that he likes it much better on another's brow.

Fingon and Hurin: I. A Common Root

A series of acrostics based on the letters provided in the Tengwar challenge, telling the story of one enterprising Telerin merchant.

Hithlum reckons with the departure of the future Gondolindrim.

“You,” Fingon pronounced, “are drunk. I am not going to give you anyone’s name just so you can make up a silly drunken ballad."

Fingon attacks Himring; Maedhros defends. A calligraphy piece done for the Hungarian Tolkien Society's Mailing Competition.

In which Elfwine goes to sea to find himself, but finds Beleriand instead, and then finds himself.
Or
Ulmo sends another human in a swan crest to Gondolin, with expected results.

Someone is planting bombs in Minas Tirith.
Early in the Forth Age, when King Elessar's life is threatened, it is up to the young prince and an unlikely ally to bring down the threat to the realms of Men.
But in the chaos of a city rocked by violence, Prince Eldarion Telcontar will discover the true meaning of his inheritance.

Minyelmë comes to Tirion to see Lalwen, arriving just in time to see things come to a head.

Climbing partners get very accustomed to saving each other's lives. The habit can prove hard to break, as Findekáno and Maitimo discover.

A Dwarf, a Man, and an Elf race across a grassy plain... Except that these three are original characters of the First Age racing across the plain of Ard-galen and their plight is rather different.