Fanworks Tagged with Family

“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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On moonless nights when he could not sleep, Finrod wandered.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Written for art 154 Archery Practice by ethanray for Scribbles & Drabbles 2024.

Tyelkormo comes to Aredhel's house to teach her archery.

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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.

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Drawing my favorite Gil-galad origin headcanon, wherein Fingon stumbles across a stray war orphan in the battlefield.

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Ficlets written for Feanorian Week 2025

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The whispers that circulate through Tirion afterwards, throughout all of Aman, will be cruel. She had gotten overconfident, they say, she should have known that Finwë’s line was cursed. She should have been content with three children! The whispers never stop circulating but everyone learns very quickly that no matter how Prince Fëanáro had felt about Queen Indis to say such a thing within earshot of him was to earn his everlasting ire.

It goes like this —

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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. 

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Fingolfin feels like part of him is still stuck in Beleriand, blood on his teeth and an all-consuming anger splintering out of control. Like he'll blink and once again see Morgoth's foot coming down. He wants. What does he want? He does not wish to be dead. He is, he supposes, grateful for this chance to fix things as much as they can be fixed. But he wants.

He wants for Fëanor to know him. Wants to work through all the ugly words and acts of violence that had divided them and come out the other side better for it. He cannot throw all the scathing anger in his chest at a brother who does not understand. Cannot scream at this Fëanor for burning the boats, for leaving them to the ice, for Elenwë, for Arakáno, for the countless others who had followed him and paid for it. And so what is he meant to do with the anger? He cannot swallow it all down forever and also salvage his relationship with Fëanor in this new song.

He wants, he thinks, watching a potter unmake a bowl that was marred, to un-sing himself as well.

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Fingon leaves a note for his family before attempting to rescue Maedhros

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Dear Elrond, It feels a little silly to be writing this to you while you are sleeping right next to me, but I cannot sleep.

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A oneshot on the complex relationship of Maglor, Maedhros, and giving.

For Maedhros & Maglor Week 2025.

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