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.

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.

With Nargothrond’s might diminishing and the Elves’ borders hard-pressed, Finrod welcomes the first Men into his ranks, but when their chieftain, Bëor, becomes dearer to him than mere vassal, Finrod faces sending his lover or himself into deadly peril as the Enemy breaches the Elves’ leaguer.

In his own wanderings, Daeron comes to the shore--and finds Maglor.

Every morning, I leave you; every evening, you bring me back. An endless game—until the day it is not.

“Do you think,” Aredhel starts, her tone idle as she wraps the last strip of fabric around his shoulder and ties it tight, “that killing your husband weighs lighter or heavier than slaying your kin?”
Celegorm freezes, his throat going dry. She does not move away, her dark eyes unforgiving upon him.
“That depends,” he finally says, catching her wrist before she can snatch her hand away. “Did you love him?”
Aredhel had visited Himlad. Celegorm decides to find out why.

There is shame in it, scathing-hot and heavy. If Makalaurë is honest, that only makes it more of a delight.
Everything in Tirion is holy perfection, white-pure and immaculate. This is just the latest desire of breaking something open, of getting to watch how it bleeds over untainted marble.
Maitimo has been avoiding him. Makalaurë deduces why.

A young Orc on a spirit quest walks through the memories of her people.

Dior did not see the arrow until it pierced his own flesh, a hard thrust of a point entering his back and blossoming out of his heart. The pain of the wound, and the feeling of his body in uncertain panic around it, was almost secondary to his curiosity.
Now what?
Dior felt strangely detached, as if he had stepped out of his body. He watched himself fall over the body of the Golodh he’d slain. Dior had worn no helm nor armor that day – and he saw his hair fan out to cover them both. They died together in the dark cloak of it.
Dior’s eyes closed, and all was dark.
~
And then Dior opened his eyes.

“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.

Of Elros and Elrond growing up in the First Age during the War of Wrath.
Chapter 1: circa 562 F.A. - the long winning streak of Finarfin's renowned Liberators comes to an end when an orc raid does not go according to plan, and the twins must accept a new path
Chapter 2: circa 546 F.A. - winds of change reach the Feanorians' remote encampment in Ossiriand, and an unexpected messenger brings news from Valinor
Chapter 3: circa 567 F.A. - years have passed since the Peredhil assumed their new role, when an unexpected detour brings them closer to familiar territory
Chapter 4: circa 547, F.A. - Finarfin has an ultimatum if the Feanorians wish to retain a place in his host during the Great War to come

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.

“Tell me…” the exhausted king said, looking directly into the commander’s eyes. He was covered in grime, soot and dirt, ash and blood, mud and sweat. His eyes were haunted. The War took its toll, after all, the very ground itself turning against them. The ruby light of the flames only served to reveal their hollowness. “The forces here. The orcs. Never before have I ridden against a host who parts and flees at the very sight of me. Why do they do so now?”

After hearing the Doom of Mandos, Arafinwë returns to Valinor where the remaining Noldor need a new ruler. It appears that the Valar have already made their choice.

Eönwë in Almaren after Mairon went missing.

Idril disagrees with the king’s decision to execute Eol. Written for the SWG challenge Kings & Queens.

Beleg comforts Gwindor in Taur-nu-Fuin, and is rewarded.

Sometimes Eönwë wonders if his life is just like Manwë's romance novels. Sometimes he even thinks the One may be laughing at him from above.
A story told in exactly 4 1/3 drabbles.

Orcs: a treatise on dissection.

Galadriel is determined to show Melian she is capable of more than Melian believes. Melian wonders if her pupil grasps her lessons.

As the refugees regroup in the first aftermath of the Fall of Gondolin, one loremaster survives and tries to understand.

Gil-galad and Círdan arrive at the Mouth of Sirion, too late.

The majority of the Silmarillion was penned by a single Elf--an Elf who was so thoroughly written out as to appear only through the ways in which their perspective shaped the stories we see. This is their story, the historian's history, the Pennas Pengolodh.

Maglor assists Maedhros with pain therapy, but his bedside manner is lacking.

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.