Fanworks Tagged with Family

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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The birth of Tylekormo Turkafinwë had been a joyous occasion.

But a memorable one.

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The enchantments woven into the woods of Nan Emloth are nothing compared to maternal love.

And so, Aredhel grabs Lómion and runs.

The enchantments woven into the woods of Nan Emloth are nothing compared to the grief of knowing you could had saved your loved one.

And so, Celegorm waits.

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“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.

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I had this cosplay photo taken of my Maglor and my friend moodrose's Galadriel at Katsucon 2025, and we managed to get set up just in time for the sunset! The rocky shore outside the convention center was absolutely gorgeous and perfect for this shot. This was a last-minute idea I had, but it really paid off, because we knew this photo would be perfect for TRSB, leaving plenty of room for the author to develop Maglor and Galadriel's relationship. Look forward to reading starspray's amazing fic when the collection goes live on Sept. 6!

Maglor: skywardstruck
Galadriel: moodrose
Photo: aerlinn.cos
Maglor cosplay made by knights-of-beleriand, designed by me

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A story about stew and how many people cook the same dish across the years. Spanning all the way from the Adanel and her family to the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen.
Across millennia, people come together to share food and good company.

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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.

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“Come on.” Maedhros grabbed his hand and pulled him along down the path, both of them quickening their pace now, until the trees opened up into a wide meadow filled with flowers, bright yellow celandine and dandelions and sweet-scented pale chamomile mingling with cornflowers and irises. On the other side of it was a larger party than Maglor had ever seen in Lórien—five figures sitting in the grass. Huan barked again, and they all looked up. “It seems everyone has come to fetch us home,” Maedhros said, laughing, as all their brothers scrambled to their feet.

After years in Lórien, Maglor and Maedhros are ready to return to their family and to make something new with their lives--but to move forward, all of Fëanor's sons must decide how, or if, they can ever reconcile with their father.

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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.

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Well, Fëanor frightened him. Fëanor frightened them all, still, in one way or another. 

Fëanor's sons receive letters from him, and try to decide what to do.

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In Valinor, little Tyelpë wakes up from a scary dream and braves the shadows to find his Atto, who will keep him safe from any monsters lurking in the dark.

(Inspired by a cut snippet from chapter 3 of my fic "but for the look in his eyes". It's not necessary to read that before reading this, however.)

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He knows that he’s supposed to say, if he’d known what would happen, he wouldn’t have done it. That he wouldn’t have paced through the halls, watching the tapestries appear, and seen his brother poised in front of Morgoth, preparing to fight, preparing to die, and gone a bit mad with grief.

He knows he should say he would not again go find a tapestry of where it all went irrevocably wrong and begin shredding it apart.

But he is suddenly standing in the middle of the library, treelight dancing through the windows, and staring at him with open mouthed shock is Ñolofinwë. So no, he finds he does not regret it at all.

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One set of twins meets another. A tragic start to the kidnap family, from Amrod's point of view.

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As a very young child, Gil-galad arrived on Círdan's doorstep with no memories and nothing but a brief letter containing two things: a request to foster him, and a name, Ereinion. Silver-haired scion of kings, he always suspected his lineage was more vexed than anyone, Noldor or Sindar alike, was comfortable admitting, especially in those fragile last days before the War of Wrath.

Parents as well as kings must make difficult decisions. After the Third Kinslaying, Gil-galad learns this the hard way.

Title is a reference to Elizabeth I's Speech to the Troops at Tilbury.

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Maglor, Elrond, and families.

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An artisan can never forget what she has made, for a part of her soul goes into the making. (Nerdanel character study/ficlet in six parts.)

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Finarfin comes to Nargothrond during the War of Wrath

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