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

Elros and Elrond enact their plan to escape from their kidnappers and find allies along the way. Reunions are made in the dense forest of southernmost Ossiriand, just not the ones that were expected.

The truth was, she should have been dead. The spear that was now leaning against the wall behind her should have killed her. The healers had told her that they had never seen someone survive such a wound, especially without the aid of elvish medicine, as she had been for the first days after the people of Brethil had found her.

Beleg seeks, by all means that he might, to persuade Túrin to return to Doriath with him. But two can play at this game.

Brandir of Brethil also loved Niënor, and his death stands among the tragedies of the Children of Húrin: an alliterative poem.

And of course, of course it is about the boats. Fingon wants—oh, Fingon wants to forgive Maedhros so badly, but he dreams of leaping flames, of the feeling in his chest like something is crushing his ribs, slowly, inevitably, to dust and grime.
“What do you want, Makalaurë?” he asks again, except that this time, it comes out angry. He has ever had an atrocious grip on his temper.
“You should ask him about it.”
Forgiveness takes time and honesty. Fingon has never been a patient person; Maedhros, in recent times, has not been an honest one.
Eventually, they work it out.

Guided by their tutor, Prince Eldarion and his friend learn that the choice to seize or reject the Ring's power is not an easy one.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the lantern light. He stared at Elrohir with a strange look—horror and helpless fear mixed with longing and perhaps…recognition? But Elrohir did not recognize him, he was sure. And there was something else in his eyes too—a Light that Elrohir had seen before only in a handful of people, dimmed by pain and fear, but not extinguished. “It’s all right,” Elrohir said. “We’re going to take you away from this place.”
The Necromancer is driven from Mirkwood, and Elladan and Elrohir find someone altogether unexpected in the pits of Dol Guldur.

A slightly different take on Maedhros' end in half a drabble.
Plus half a drabble of Maglor's.

Years of the Lamps. Mairon has come home early from the celebrations to some alone time, but Melkor’s visit destroys both his plans and the peace of his mind.

In the end, the master of lies made the mistake of underestimating him.
A story of Celebrimbor, the last of the House of Fëanor in Middle-erath.

The fall of Fingolfin from Fingon's perspective

Daeron is caught by orcs in the shadow of the Ephel Dúath, but is rescued by someone entirely unexpected.

“Dior, son of Luthien,” Námo intones, “you do not belong in these halls. I will show you the way to where your path is meant to lead.”
Celegorm looks to Dior and tilts his head in curiosity at the defiant look being directed at Námo. “No,” Dior says, voice hard. “I feel no call to follow the path of men. I will stay in the halls with my kin.”
“I was not presenting it as a choice,” Námo says severely and Celegorm frowns. Sees Curufin across the room shaking his head and gesturing for Celegorm to join him. He thinks to but then looks at Dior again and gets distracted by the look on his face.
An animal backed into a corner, his mind supplies, glancing down at the way Dior’s fingers are beginning to press into Celegorm’s fëa from how hard he is gripping Celegorm’s wrist.
Dior bares his teeth. “I was not either."

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)

They passed out of Lhûn and the wider coastline of Middle-earth opened up before his eyes. He had wandered those shores for centuries, and even now he felt the pull of that same wanderlust, and knew he would miss them for the rest of his life. Their wildness, the untamed waves, the rocky shores and the cliffs and the sandy beaches. The gulls, and the dunes, and the tide pools with their ever-changing denizens. Someone began to sing a song of farewell, and other voices took it up. He did not join them.
Maglor keeps a promise, and comes to Valinor, only to find the ghosts he thought he'd left behind are alive and waiting for him.

An Orc is writing to their loved one in the War of Wrath.

Five tents, he counts. Two dead guards. The fire within him burns so white, he wonders if it will leave anything of himself behind. Wonders if he can bring himself to care. Wonders, too, if this is what his father had felt like when he found the innards of their grandfather’s head spilt over his well-wrought front steps.
If so, perhaps Maedhros finally understands.
Maglor is taken. Maedhros handles it as well as can be expected, which is not at all.

They speak as if they have not been sending messengers to keep each other informed of what was necessary. As if this—war, strategy, cold facts—is not all they have exchanged ever since Maedhros had removed them East.
He wonders if Maglor has forgiven him yet—for giving away the crown, for not asking him first, for coming back someone other than himself. He wonders if he has forgiven Maglor yet—for leaving him to Morgoth, for looking at him returned only with horror and guilt. For not forgiving him yet.
They have not spoken in twenty years. Maedhros doubts that this is the kind of reuniting that their uncle had in mind.

He used to be able to read his brother better than his own mind. He used to think that he would do anything, would bear anything, to have him back.
Maglor’s worst crime to date, he thinks, is that in this, too, he has proven himself a liar.
Maedhros abdicates the throne. Maglor copes, more or less (it's definitely less).

Following Maglor as he suffers through captivity in Dol Guldur, and his journey to healing afterward.

The king's natural philosophers are an elite group of men of science in Armenelos. When one of them is discovered to be (apparently) a woman in disguise, he is expelled from their ranks. Unfortunately, his youth and beauty draw the interest of the king, and there is no one with the power to protect him, not even the High Priest himself, although to the philosopher's surprise, Tar-Mairon tries...
A possible origin story for the Mouth of Sauron.

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.

One wrong decision can make a world of difference. When one of the Fellowship makes the mistake, the consequences are so severe that only the Valar can repair it. But will they?
Glorfindel daughter's life is in Elrohir's hands and only she remembers th eir love for each other. The fate of Middle Earth depends on everyone walking their intended path.Torn between the past and the future, she is forbidden to warn them of any missteps.