New Challenge: Allusive
Literature and art constantly refer back to each other using allusions, and this month's prompts are inspired by allusions to literature, myth, art, and history.

Celegorm took the javelin from the beast, examining it. He ran his finger over the blade, where the poison glistened in the sunlight, then sniffed his finger. His gaze flicked up to Eöl’s. Eöl thought to see anger or triumph flicker in the Elf-lord’s eyes, but they were cold and impassive, and when he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet. “I wonder: Who was this meant for—your wife, or your son?”
Eöl felt the blood drain from his face, and he reached for the hilt of his sword.
Curufin is not the only son of Fëanor Eöl meets upon the plains of Himlad.
Or, Eöl meets Celegorm while pursuing Aredhel and Maeglin, and things go very badly for him.

In the aftermath of the Dagor Bragollach, a follower of Amras contemplates the future. Written for Tolkien Gen Week on Tumblr.

Eönwë, Maia and herald of Manwë, after the War of Wrath and after seeing Angband. He has long silver-grey wings, and his appearance is tattered and bloodied, he's exhausted after the long war and what he's seen. His hair is silver-white and long. He wears a knee-length surcoat over his armor. He wields a polearm.

Three characters, three moments. Three stages of the same journey. The road of self-acceptance is never smooth.

But now, sailing into the Uttermost West, Frodo wondered again about Gandalf’s nature and origin. The wizard seemed both familiar and remote now, somehow. His eyes were as bright and shrewd as ever, and at turns Frodo glimpsed in them the kindly light that he had seen at times when Gandalf was still Gandalf the Grey. And at other times, Gandalf seemed to have become more of Gandalf the White than he ever had in Middle-earth, a very great lord even among the lords and Lady that sailed with them.
On the journey West, Frodo discovers Gandalf's true nature and learns of the country that will soon be his home.

A sonnet addressing some of the challenges the Noldor faced as Exiles.

Stone could tell stories, her father had said, balancing her upon his knee, and stories she spun at his side in his workshop—stories strange and marvelous and beautiful.
Or, Nerdanel and Mahtan through the years.

Young Daeron has many questions. This time, they lead Beleg to a vision of a dark future for the elves on the westward journey.

Indis tries to mend the rift within the House of Finwë. Fëanáro does not take kindly to it.

"And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise." - The Return of the King

“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice was jarringly loud.
“Of course,” Nóm replied. He didn’t look worried. He thought this was one of her philosophical quandaries. Well, it was one in a roundabout kind of– never mind that, she was probably about to ruin his morning. Both of their mornings.

The lands of the north and the south are coming together again in friendship and alliance, and a celebration is planned, to take place on the lawn of Parth Galen. Gimli makes something particularly special for the occasion.

The usurper Tar-Anducal has closed the theatre in Armenelos that his deceased wife, Tar-Vanimelde, so loved.
The group of dancers that conspired with her against his usurpation have been touring everywhere except in the capital, hoping not to draw his notice.
Are their fortunes about to change?

As the bells began to ring alarms at another five black-sailed Corsair ships hoving into view, Ulloth’s mind and pen alighted upon the pelargoloth, her namesake, the common and beloved flower of the city’s balconies and courtyards, just opening its scarlet petals with the dawn of the the Second Siege of Pelargir.

Elrond stood in awe, transfixed by the beauty of the song and the lilt of the harp. He felt almost as if he could touch the music, if he bent his mind and will hard enough to the task. He felt Maglor’s voice in his chest, in his heart, in the pulse of the air around him. Everything listened, bending ear to the power of the song.
Together, Maglor and Elrond create visions with songs.

Elves were not infrequent visitors; just a few weeks before Elanor had entertained Legolas and one of his sisters, and occasionally some of the Wandering Companies stopped for a chat on an evening. But usually they came around twilight, and almost never did one come that Elanor had never met before.

A wandering Elf comes to the Shire to see the Mallorn Tree, and is invited to dinner with the Gardner family.

Elrond loved most the scene painted behind their mother’s seat, a green forest glade decked with hemlock umbels and delicate niphredil, and Lúthien dancing in the center, her skirts blue as the morning sky and her hair like a dark shadow swirling around her as she spun, hands uplifted.

Gildor returns to Nargothrond for the last time.

Beleg teaches Daeron to make his own instrument. Later, Daeron makes is own improvements.

The weavers workshops in Tirion are merry places, filled with Treelight spilling through wide open windows, and with laughter drifting over the steady clack of the looms like a melody over a steady beat.

A moment in the forges between Melian and Mablung, before he leaves to join the Union of Maedhros.

Ficlets exploring the brotherly bond and dynamics of Finrod and Aegnor, and the beginnings of the lifelong friendship of Aegnor and Fingon.

Fingon y Fingolfin tienen una conversación a las vísperas de la Batalla de la Llama Súbita.