Fanworks Tagged with Family

“There’s a goblin hiding in the taters, Dad!” Pippin hefted the pan, which was much too big for him to carry, let alone wield.

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On a cold winter day in the Havens of Sirion, Elwing meets two sparrows.

English translation of my fic "En mä ole, lapseni, lintu tästä maasta"

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Eräänä kylmänä talviaamuna Sirionin satamissa Elwing kohtaa kaksi varpusta

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The Great Journey viewed from Elwë’s eyes, from the morning of their leaving to the very last Finwë ever heard from him.
(And don’t come at me for the title, I can explain xD I’ve never watched RoP and never will, but I love that song, because to me, that’s totally Elmo’s song. Not guilty at all of fitting everything in my headcanons at all, nooooooo, never.)

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Oh it was so good. Just that perfect puffy pastry with crunchy almonds on top. Just enough sweetness to satisfy Tyelkormo’s sweet tooth, without being so overwhelming that it’d disgust him in two bites. No really, this croissant was just utter perfection!

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In a happier universe Aredhel slips away from Nan Elmoth earlier with her little twilight child in tow. Eöl never catches them. Safe in Himlad, surrounded by family and lavished with love, Maeglin cuddles up to Celegorm one moonlit night as he tells him the story of Tilion the Hunter.

Written for Scribbles & Drabbles 2025 Art Prompt #174: Cuddle Pile in a happier universe by Fiamma Galathon. You can find this absolutely gorgeous artwork here.

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In the wide, water-bound delta lands of the Sirion grow reeds taller than any man. Following the estuary to its end one finds the waterways open onto great white-sanded beaches, stretching as far South as half-elven eyes can behold. Elwing takes Elrond and Elros downriver to the beach for the day and together they discover small everyday wonders.

Written for Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 Prompt #115: A Beach Day by Myrtaceaae. Their sweet artwork can be found here. Seriously, go check it out, Myrtaceaae makes such gorgeous pieces.

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“What if,” said Manwë, regarding Maedhros with star-bright eyes, blue as sapphires and piercing as blades, “you were sent from these Halls for a purpose, son of Fëanáro?”
“I suppose, my lord,” Maedhros said slowly, “that would depend upon the purpose.”

Maedhros is sent back to Middle-earth, in the company of the Maia Olórin. 

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Two brief scenes featuring Galadriel, one in Valinor in the time of the Trees, one early in the Second Age.

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His life in Valinor.

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The twins were bored. That, in Tyelkormo's experience, was a very, very bad thing, more so when Maitimo wasn’t actually home to deal with the terror and he was himself supposed to be the Responsible Adult. 

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Bad dreams?” I ask, and Elrond nods. When I brush against his mind it laps like the tide against some desolate shore, and he stands alone in the washed out landscape. Young eyes rove over a heartless sea where the horizon is empty of all but tossing waves. White cliffs are at his back, reeds peek over sandy dunes southward along the shore, and Elrond’s heart fills with the hollow echo: no longer my home, no longer my home.

There is a new star in the sky and and old fears surface. Maedhros supports through Elrond and Elros through their ensuing emotional turmoil as he battles his own.

Written for the SWG October Challenge 2025: The Only Thing to Fear using the prompt: fear of being alone.

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Fëanor dreams of darkness, and there is only so much Finwë can do to help. Written for the 'The Only Thing to Fear' challenge.

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"I think something is going to happen soon.”
“Something good or something bad?” Maglor asked.
“Something important,” Elros said, looking suddenly very serious and far older than his years. He and Elrond both looked at Maglor with starlit eyes under shadowy hair, Melian’s children whom the birds and the stars would both love.

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"Dior shall he be called, and you shall be a comfort to each other: that though he be fatherless and motherless, and you childless, you shall not be bereft of kin."

On the lives and deaths of two kings of Doriath: Elwë of Cuiviénen, wisest and noblest of Elves, who ruled in peace ere ever the Sun rose; and Dior Eluchíl, at whose feet the realm crumbled.

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I made a project out of this year’s Silmsmutweek, to accompany the line of the Peredhel through the Ages.

1) Spring; prompts: ritual sex, bathing and washing. Melian and Elu beget their daughters.

2) Summer; prompts: sport and competition. Finally allowed to live their love makes Arwen and Aragorn light-headed with bliss. That, and a little too much wine for the newly crowned King of Gondor. (Not explicit)

3) Autumn; prompts: canon ships, blanket; my first drabble. On a chill afternoon in autumn, Celebrían finds her husband dozing, and finds that something has to be done about it (Not explicit)

4)Fading; prompts: water sports. Elwing can’t have what she wants, and Eärendil has to suffer for it. (He loves every moment of it, though)

5) Winter; prompts: throne sex. Dior has doubts whether he will ever see himself as the King of Doriath. Nimloth finds that it is time for him to truly claim the throne.

6) Stirring; prompts: erotic dance and acrobatics. Ficlet. Beren watches Lúthien dance, and feels life stir in him again. And other things.

7) Dark; prompts borrowed from another day: rare-pair. This one is weird. No more needs to be said

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As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Galadriel looked up to find Celeborn following. “What is it you seek?” he asked as she filled the silver ewer from the clear and cold waters of the stream.
“My cousin,” she said as she turned to the silver basin. “It is a new Age; if he lives still, I would find him and bring an end to his long exile.”

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Fëanor did not know how to explain the ill-defined uneasiness and the almost instinctual dislike he felt, how impossible it was to reconcile the impression he had gotten from the tapestry in Mandos to the reality of Daeron in person, in life. “He seems careless,” he said, because he did not know how else to explain. 

“That is certainly not true,” said Nerdanel, “though I know well that I cannot expect you to take my word for it. It is long since you placed any trust in anyone’s judgment aside from your own, flawed though it is.”

Midwinter is meant to be a time of feasting and merriment, but Fëanor does not find it so, especially with Daeron of Doriath in attendance. 

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"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.

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Hador has been granted the lordship of Dor-lomin. Persuading his father to relocate there from the southern slopes of Ered Wethrin will not be easy, though.

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In Dor-lómin, Tuor and Lady Aerin both dream of a golden-haired child. (Lalaith is doing her best, considering that she's a young child and also dead.)

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Aredhel runs from Nan Emloth just a few years earlier. This leads to a chain of events that might make the First Age just a bit lighter place.

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Fingolfin is confused by the rumors that spread through the elven settlements of Beleriand like a wildfire. So is his daughter found and alive, or not? And what is this utter poppycock about Celegorm getting pregnant?

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Then Dírhavel sung of Túrin’s flight north after the Fall of Nargothrond, past the defiled waters of Ivrin as he sought for the Princess Finduilas Faelivrin, and Tuor rose suddenly from his seat, passing out of the hall without a word. 

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Celegorm and Aredhel ride towards the Aglon Pass through the rain.

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