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.

Alphangil lives in Eglarest following the Dagor Bragollach, while Fingon remains in Hithlum. During a visit by Maedhros they find a way to bridge the distance.

Alphangil surprises her wife Fingwen and their lover Maedhris in the gardens of Barad Eithel. Fluff and smut ensue.

Following Maedhros averting the burning of the ships, Fingon worries, Maedhros finds a new reason to live, and Fëanor begins to wonder if he has made some mistakes. And underneath it all is enough love that they're all hoping, maybe just this once, it won't end in tragedy.

Nerdanel ran her fingers along one, and turned her thoughts to her son, hoping for a glimpse of more than a misty shore, or of the ragged hem of his cloak. She wished to see his face, wished to see that he was somewhere safe and warm and perhaps not still alone after so long. But even a glimpse of him lonely but whole upon the shore would be a relief, and enough to banish the dreams that had troubled her, knowing them for just dreams and nothing more.
Troubled by dark dreams, Nerdanel picks up a palantír to seek for Maglor. She finds him.
After, Maedhros has returned to life and also seeks for his brother--and also finds him.

“No,” he says once more, cutting his father off. The pressure in his chest hurts. He wanted to rest but instead there’s a great, spiked ball of fury dragging itself up his throat. “If you burn those boats I will walk out there and burn with them. I’ll swear it to Eru if you don’t believe me. Damn myself to the darkness twice.” He had intended to burn anyways, may as well go out the way he’d meant to, let his death mean something this time. Let it be for something that matters.
There must be something truly terrible on his face because his father visibly falters.
“You would not,” his father says but his voice wavers slightly.

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.

Maglor prepares for the Winter Solstice celebration, but Elrond and Elros disagree with his choice of clothing.
Or: in which the Noldor invented waistcoats

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.

She sits alone in her room and pulls the silmaril out. Stares at it in the dark until the light makes her cry. Weighs the blood of her kin staining the Fëanorians hands against the yet unspilled blood of the people she’s been told are her responsibility. Holds the question she’s never been able to answer in her hands and makes herself think — what makes a monster? She knows what her advisors say. She knows what her people whisper. She knows their blood will run red regardless of which set of monsters end up finally coming for them.
or: Elwing is sixteen when she finally comprehends the brutality of the war ravaging Beleriand, when she realizes what it means to be told the people of Sirion are hers to protect. She is sixteen and helplessly in love and her advisor tells her that she is safe in Sirion and she cannot believe him. She comes up with a plan to fix it.

Tyelkormo was currently outside the house, hiding from his mother.
It was nearly winter and every winter was peak matchmaking activity time in Tirion’s palace. So Nerdanel focused more on her sons at this period since she wanted them to make a good impression so they could find a good wife as was proper for young adult elves.
Alas, Tyelkormo didn’t want that.
Works for the Sitcom Bingo : We need a distraction, Failure is the Only Option, and getting volunteered (poor Makalaurë's dramatic so he enjoys being volunteered, worry not, no minstrel was harmed in the writing of this fic).

A selection of brief writings (mostly conforming to drabbles but some veer into dribble territory) from the SWG events on January 18-19, 2025.

Short interaction between Maedhros and Caranthir, written during an instadrabbling session.

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

Some drabbles from the 1/19/2025 instabrabbling event

Maitimo held his baby brother in his arms, and was surprised when the baby started to emit a melodious sound.

Ficlets for the Jubilee Challenge instadrabbling.

There is no escaping guilt.
Or,
Maedhros finds another orphan in the woods.

“Elrond!” Elros screamed, and Elrond had time to see him being held back by Bregolon before everything went topsy-turvy, and the underbrush closed around him, branches and leaves slapping at his face. His head bounced against hard metal, and through the confusion he realized—too slowly—that it had not been one of their party who had grabbed him, but one of the orcs.

Just a few of my favourite podfics that I've found soothing for bedtime (or middle of the night, or any time really) listening.

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.

Completed.
"At least we have learned that the sons of Fëanor can die too." Nine POVs, one matter - a story about the kinslaying in Doriath.