New Challenge: Epic 80s
This month's challenge features hundreds of fresh prompts from the bodacious decade of the 1980s.

The birth of Tylekormo Turkafinwë had been a joyous occasion.
But a memorable one.

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.

“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.

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. starspray wrote a beautiful fanfic for this work which can be found here.
Maglor: skywardstruck
Galadriel: moodrose
Photo: aerlinn.cos
Maglor cosplay made by lady-creations-and-co, designed by me

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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

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.

Maglor, Elrond, and families.

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.)

Grief awaits you outside these halls, Fëanáro, Nienna told him, her voice like the gentlest fall of rain upon spring leaves.
Grief haunts me inside them, Fëanor replied.

story for art 68 TRSB 2024 - In every wood in every spring there's a different green by FakeCirilla9
The 'wilds' of Valinor seen through the eyes of Tyelkormo and his family: from Tyelkormo's birth during a long journey, to the introduction of little Telperinquar to the natural wildlife of Valinor.

Written for art 147 - Blorbo’s first lemon by octopus_fool for Scribbles & Drabbles 2024.
Tyelkormo was at home when his brother came to ask him to pick up lemons for their mother, and to babysit his son.

This is a story for art 87 - Aromantic and asexual pride by daughterofshadows for Scribbles and Drabbles 2024
Upon his return from his most recent hunt with Oromë’s people, Tyelkormo saw a servant of the house come to him in a hurry.
“Prince Tyelkormo, your father wishes to speak to you at the earliest possibility.”
Tyelkormo snorted at that, faintly amused. His father certainly didn’t word it this way.

Written for art 154 Archery Practice by ethanray for Scribbles & Drabbles 2024.
Tyelkormo comes to Aredhel's house to teach her archery.

Gloredhel writes to her brother, after his sons have gone missing.
We know that Hurin and Huor were rescued by Eagles and carried to Gondolin, but their relatives, at this point, don't.
Drawing my favorite Gil-galad origin headcanon, wherein Fingon stumbles across a stray war orphan in the battlefield.