Fanworks Tagged with General

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Shadows of Long-Forgotten Summers by octopus_fool

Faramir makes his way through the Dead Marshes to find the Éothéod and is reminded of past summers with their leader, Marhgals.

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Beclouded by Anérea

Lake Mithrim from North Sinda's pov on a calm misty overcast day

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Fading by Anérea

Sad fading Maglor on a stormy beach ...

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A Glimpse of Túrin by Anérea

Abstract sketch from Tuor's pov of Túrin running through the dead trees at Eithel Ivrin after it was despoiled by Glaurung.

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Nor Bid the Stars Farewell by StarSpray

He turned to find a pair of kittens, one white with black socks and the other black with white-tipped ears, chasing a piece of string around as an elf dragged it across the flagstones. He sat cross-legged on the ground, rather than on the bench beside him; when he looked up his eyes were bright, and his smile was easy. “Good afternoon!” he said. “You must be Master Samwise. Are you lost?”

“I beg your pardon!” Sam said, hurriedly bowing. “I seem to have gotten turned around somewhere.”

Sam meets Maglor, first in Rivendell and again in Minas Tirith.

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As Easy as Baking Bread by octopus_fool

Hunleth returns to her people after receiving an education (and getting into a bit of trouble) in Nargothrond, only to realize that she doesn't even know the easiest practical skills, like baking bread.

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His Honor by Grundy

Drabble for the beginner prompts of Period Drama.

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Diamonds & Silver by StarSpray

Princess Findis was resplendent, luminous in a silver gown shimmering with diamonds and pearls, and with diamonds in her long golden hair, so that she seemed to be a living embodiment of the Mingling Trees—an effect only made stronger by the bright emerald of her eyes. No matter where Elemmírë looked over the course of the night she saw the princess, and more than once she found the princess looking back. 

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Of Daub and Displacement by Isilme_among_the_stars

Spurred on by the tribulations of endless rain and a leaky tent, Maglor and Maedhros find a house for Elrond, Elros and themselves to live in. However, moving is complicated by the emergence of memories of home, and a scare from Elros.

Written for the SWG's New Year's Resolution Amnesty and March Challenge: Birthday Bash for the prompt word 'displaced' and the poem:

Yesterday I lost a country.
I was in a hurry,
and didn't notice when it fell from me
like a broken branch from a forgetful tree.
I Was in a Hurry by Dunya Mikhail, translated by Elizabeth Winslow

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The One With All The Birds by alabasterapricot

Would it never end? Would there always be one more mother standing on the shore, looking out to sea, full of a grief made more terrible by hope?
Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.

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Spider Type by Babblecat

Eru banishes Melkor outside the world...very far outside the world.

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Animal Farm by Babblecat

Like Germany at one point or another, Melkor turns over a new leaf (for real, no jokes) and gets himself a tradwife. 

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Bloom by Elrond's Library

Idril begins her courtship of Tuor with food.

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Of Ships and Sealing Wax by Grundy

Finarfin in a thoughtful moment on the way to the War of Wrath.

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Wake, Butterfly by Babblecat

Melkor turns over a new leaf, and finds a spider.

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The Numenorean Frying Pan by Babblecat

Elros is famous for one thing above all.

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to grow out of ashy soil by softmoonlightmelody

Indis, removing herself to a smaller household and resolving to raise her daughter Faniel alone, is suddenly besieged by someone she never expected: Míriel Þerindë, her husband's wife.

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Under Granite Skies by AdmirableMonster

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

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Fare alone as she would by Anérea

Aredhel wanders through Nan Elmoth

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Berry Romance by Elrond's Library

In which Salgant expresses his love with food.

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The Shape of Water by Isilme_among_the_stars

Celebrían will not stand among the crowd when Elrond arrives in Valinor, for their private griefs are theirs alone to share.

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Twilight, Insistent it Creeps by Isilme_among_the_stars

Old age creeps upon Tuor, insistent and unsettling, and as sea-longing grows in his heart, Annael guides him on his way.

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On Olives and Acceptance by Isilme_among_the_stars

Elros recalls the journey from Sirion to Ossiriand and the early days with Maedhros and Maglor. He and Elrond struggle to cope, yet there are new discoveries and small joys still to be found.

Written for the SWG's Great Beleriand Bakeoff Challenge: Olive Bread (19th Dec) Prompt.

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but the dawn is brief by queerofthedagger

His brother has returned for the first time in four hundred years, and Fingon does not want to start a fight. He is glad; he is. It has been so long since there was anyone he called family to lean on. It has been so long since he heard Turgon’s booming laughter, his haughty commentary from beneath his breath that he would deny uttering to anyone but his siblings. Since Fingon thought of his younger brother and felt anything that was simple and fond, rather than complicated, threaded through with resentment, and guilt, and anger that tastes a little too much like regret.

“Findekáno,” Turgon says, and this is the lesson his father never finished teaching—how to swallow the words, and how to keep them off his face, too.

Fingon and Turgon, and their long-awaited reunion at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

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all the songs and kings of old by queerofthedagger

In the war camps of Beleriand, Finarfin assembles the missing pieces of his family’s history; assembles the bits and pieces that make not-regret calcify into something jagged and uncomfortable, where it makes a home beneath his breastbone.

He meets men whose ancestors used to march beneath his son’s banner. Most of their house, too, is decimated now, a strange, hollow kinship that Finarfin wants to flinch from, and that they weather as they bend their knees to him, seeing someone other than Finarfin. He meets victims of his nephews’ terror; meets those who are left of Fingolfin’s people, of Fingon’s, of Turgon’s. Learns how they passed, each of them falling to blazing heroics and bristling despair, and wonders how any of them are ever meant to return from this. How these serrated, brittle remains of a devastated land are meant to be spit out into Aman’s idle serenity, and not break the world all over.

Finarfin, the War of Wrath, and the price it demands.

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