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The thing about forgiveness, he thought, was that it was so much easier when the object of it was far away—or dead. It was so much easier to let it all go when those responsible were far away and unable to do any more harm.

These were simply flashes, a hint of a wider, greater world. A tantalizing glimpse of more, always at the edge of awareness, never within reach. Míriel would grasp it, if something as intangible as the concept of color could overflow in bounteous wonder over her hands.
But then fire was caught, tamed and kept and cherished, and their world was suddenly awash with light. The world expanded, a pageantry of blues and greens and browns. A cacophony of color, overwhelming in its saturation.
In which Míriel falls in love with the colors in the earliest days, and Indis too.

A thrall lately escaped from Angband is turned away from Ladros and finds an unexpected welcome elsewhere.

Trapped upon the bitter cliff, Maedhros dreams. Or hallucinates. Or endures the mental torments of the Dark Vala, Morgoth. Surely, one of those must be the case; for he cannot have been rescued from Thangorodrim's torturous peak. He cannot.
But then, why is Findekáno here?
Maedhros finds in many ways that those visions which do not end with his own blood and breaking are the worst of all: because they end instead in waking, and the inescapable knowledge that such things will never again be aught but dreams to him. That knowledge is a tighter shackle than the one that holds him to the cliff-face, and the pain of it around his heart is much sharper than that which throbs through his arm. An arm goes numb much faster than a heart, and there is a limit to how much pain a body can bear before the sensation of agony starts to crumble beneath the onslaught.
If there is a limit to how much pain a heart can hold, Maedhros has not yet found it.

Finrod is called to Mandos to speak with the spirit of a kinsman who is pardoned, yet refuses to rejoin the living.

Fëanor shrugged, studying the contents of his wine glass. “Something must be done about that house. It will fall down eventually.”
“It does not follow that it must be you that tears it down single-handedly. Are you sure you do not want help?”
“It’s not as though I have much else to do. I need to build something new there,” he said after a few moments. “To do that, I must first clear away the old and broken things.”
Decades out of Mandos, too many things in Fëanor's life remain broken. He can't do anything except wait for his sons to come to him, but he can do something about the old and crumbling house where they once lived.

Fëanáro dies, and the rest live, coated in his ashes.

Elwing reckons with the passage of time.

It was only the second time Finwë had come out foraging with them, and of course this would happen—of course the Hunter would come, the Dark Rider on his steed with its terrible, heavy footfalls, and the deep-throated laughter that held no mirth, only malice.
In the dark woods near the Waters of Awakening, Finwë's brothers are taken.
In Valinor, when the Trees wither, Finwë is slain.
In the Fourth Age, things take place long thought impossible.

Dopo la Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Maedhros rimane solo a Himring, circondato dal silenzio e dai ricordi.<br />
Tra presente e passato, ripercorre ciò che Fingon è stato per lui — e ciò che non potrà più essere.
Ha partecipato all'EAC nel gruppo Hurt/Comfort Italia

He was going to die. The molten rocks would burn him just like the cursed gem in his palm did. Maybe less painfully but still being burnt hurt and Maedhros knew it. He intimately knew it from his time in Angband where Þauron burnt him often in frustration and to toy with him and his master burnt his skin even more often just to mock his ancestry. At least here he would pass on to Mandos and not linger in pain only to be sewed back together to be tortured again and again.
But it wasn't true for his next clear memory was of the same pain from which he escaped soon and half-mad entered the Girdle to never never leave till now.

In what Maedhros was re-embodied early and was sent back to Middle Earth on his volition with Glorfindel.
This isn't about what happened right then but years after Fall of Sauron when he still refused to return to Valinor.
He found a strange sapling at the shore of what remains of Cuiviénen.

Caranthir lay on the cold ground of Menegroth, gasping, when he heard it. Her.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered, calm, soothing.
He sobbed.
Caranthir is dying. Haleth is there to take him home.
for S&D 2025 Slide 102

“You’re not going to break me,” Russo huffed, finally cracking open his eyes, which were bright with amusement. “They could not, what makes you think you could?”
For Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 SFW Slide 33

Two years after Eöl's death, Maeglin reflects, and Rog tries to be supportive.
For Scribbles and Drabbles Slide 25 Maeglin looks over Caragdûr by Myrtaceaae

Arwen grieves, and loves.

Dye Days are uncomfortable. The newly arrived party from Imladris makes it even more uncomfortable.
Written for S&D 2025, Slide 18 Blood On Their Hands by Zhie

There hadn’t been much left of Gil-galad to pick up when Elrond had found the place he had fallen.
Celebrían and Elrond construct a memorial to Gil-galad.
For S&D 2025 Slide 8

Rescued from a brutal Angband hunt, an ex-thrall with a strange and powerful artifact embedded in his spine is brought to Himring, for it is one of the only places in Beleriand which welcomes such folk. Though he has no memories of his life before, Anniavas slowly becomes accustomed to his new life and finds he has a queer connection with Maedhros, Himring's lord. As their intimacy grows, however, so do the dangers surrounding them, both without and within. What secrets are hidden inside the depths of Anniavas's lost memories--and how will those with whom he is forging and deepening bonds react, when those secrets are at last revealed?

Tar-Míriel dreams of the sea, and finds no comfort.

It was Írissë who caught Elenwë’s final breath.
Aredhel tries to save Elenwë.

The falcon joined her on the second day of watching. And stayed with her, watching her … Galadriel would say surreptitiously, if birds could do more than blankly stare. It was unnerving. The falcon preened its dark feathers occasionally, but otherwise watched the disembarking Elves with the same keen gaze as Galadriel.
Under the moonlight of the third night the falcon shivered, stretched, and shifted to become one who had been thought lost.
Elwing reunites with Galadriel before the War of Wrath.

Anairë and Nerdanel have their own thoughts about going to Beleriand.

Gelmir (the brother of Gwindor) arrives in Mandos, hurting and bewildered and still blind. But there is help and comfort to be found - and to give.

A Dwarf on vacation with their lover must contend with an unusual encounter in the middle of the night.