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.

Two years after Eöl's death, Maeglin reflects, and Rog tries to be supportive.
For Scribbles and Drabbles Slide 25 Maeglin looks over Caragdûr by Myrtaceaae

It was Írissë who caught Elenwë’s final breath.
Aredhel tries to save Elenwë.

Idril begins her courtship of Tuor with food.

His brother has returned for the first time in four hundred years, and Fingon does not want to start a fight. He is glad; he is. It has been so long since there was anyone he called family to lean on. It has been so long since he heard Turgon’s booming laughter, his haughty commentary from beneath his breath that he would deny uttering to anyone but his siblings. Since Fingon thought of his younger brother and felt anything that was simple and fond, rather than complicated, threaded through with resentment, and guilt, and anger that tastes a little too much like regret.
“Findekáno,” Turgon says, and this is the lesson his father never finished teaching—how to swallow the words, and how to keep them off his face, too.
Fingon and Turgon, and their long-awaited reunion at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

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.

Those who survive do so by cutting parts of themselves off; their innocence, sacrificed to the altar of devouring hunger. Their faith, drowned alongside their children. Their fingers, toes, limbs, coin the Ice demands in exchange for passage.
Those who survive do so in despite; they do not know yet that this will be true for centuries to come.
The House of Nolofinwë, and their time on the Ice. A deed of great renown and endurance, told in an assortment of loosely connected drabbles.

“Are they fighting again?” Idril asks, wandering over to the fireplace the moment Fingolfin lets her down.
“It is what you do with siblings,” Fingolfin says, and succeeds at not laughing at the irony.
Oh, how much would be different if it were not so true. She treats him to a look full of sceptical disbelief and sets to restacking the fire.
An exploration of the Nolofinwëans in early Beleriand, and the effect that Maedhros' rescue and abdication would have had on the relationships between them, in the wake of the Ice and all its horrors.

On the day of Tuor and Idril's wedding, Maeglin and Voronwë find some common, unstable ground.

Before the destruction of Gondolin, Glorfindel was forced to keep many parts of his life a secret. Much of this changed after his second coming to Middle Earth.
Featuring: Glorthelion, intersex!Glorfindel, mpreg, and queerplatonic Glorestor.

"Whatever the songs say, I am still only myself, and I miss my grandfather.”
Five times Eärendil asks for news of Turgon, and one time he does not have to.

Hope is a weapon. Hope is a skill.
or, the art of not giving up in the face of the impossible, as seen through the eyes of fifteen people living in First Age Beleriand.
16 perfect 100 words drabbles, exploring this concept.

It happens - as always - with no semblance of warning. The ice groans, then shifts, and a channel of dark, swiftly-churning water cleaves open beneath their feet.

“He is my brother,” Ñolofinwë says once more, willing her to understand. “He is half of me. What is a fëa worth if half of itself is gone?”
Ñolofinwë is scared that if he takes all that his brother is, and unravels the braid, takes out all of the love, winds what’s left back together — he is so terribly afraid that it will turn into a bitter hatred so dark and violent it may finally rival his brother’s.
He cannot risk that. He cannot. Better to die with love in his heart than live and become an angry, bitter version of himself.
Or: Ñolofinwë begins coughing up flowers and Fëanáro learns that hatred does not erase the duties of a brother.

Finarfin makes it a rule for his life to stay as far from Tirion and the mess that is his brothers, but during an important festival the house of Finwë gathers to celebrate together. As he tries to cope with the resulting headache, he helps Finrod make a new friend.

On the night after the coronation, the wind was cold. Fires still burned in the north; their light could be seen, flickering on the far reaches of the horizon, but they provided no warmth. A figure stood on the ramparts of the keep at Hithlum, where the ceremony had been held, more solemn than joyous. The wisdom of having so many of the rulers so near the great darkness to the north, given what had happened– what was happening– was questionable, at best. But their luck held. For now.
A conversation between two kings of the Noldor.

Now a great crowd of spirits, both Elves and lingering Men, were gathered before the newest tapestry as it fell open down the wall, luminous, gold and silver threads glittering in the pale light of Mandos.

If Aredhel had to listen to one more person heap praise on her brother while she stood right beside him, completely disregarded, she might scream. The praises were well deserved, she must admit. But was it only Fingon who scouted ahead over the treacherous shifting ice of the Helcaraxë? Didn’t Aredhel also take her fair share of that hazardous duty?
In the early days at Lake Mithrim, Aredhel endures a restriction in her freedom after the comparative autonomy she had during the crossing of the Helcaraxë. Fingolfin seems set on weighing her down with safe and mundane duties. Aredhel is not enjoying this one bit. Her father may be able to keep her inside the encampment, but he cannot tame her. She longs to for greater freedom, but when it comes it is not be the victory she was hoping for.

Maedhros, eldest son of Feanor, is captured by Morgoth and chained to the cliffs of Thargorodrim by his order. There is no hope of rescue until his dearest friend appears. (one-shot)

Fingon leaves a note for his family before attempting to rescue Maedhros

Some drabbles from the 1/19/2025 instabrabbling event

After a few minutes, though, he heard an answering voice. He looked up, falling silent. That had sounded like—but no, it couldn’t be. Eärendil saw movement on the path again, just the top of someone’s dark head coming up the last slope toward the tower. As whoever it was drew farther up the hill, more became visible, and Eärendil abandoned his flower weaving and scrambled upright, bare feet slipping over the stones as the grass and daisies tumbled over the cliff side down into the water below.

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.
A short comic for the Sept-Oct 2024 Idiomatic challenge. The stifling environment of Eöl’s “dim halls, silent and secret” contrasts with young Maeglin’s idealized vision of Gondolin as a divine, sunlit paradise, home to the godlike Noldor.