Fanworks Tagged with General

War is never quiet. Not like this. Tonight, there is a hush in which the grass whispers, birds sing undisturbed and brooks murmur gaily, wending their way between the trees, heeding no danger, anticipating no pain. This apparently, is peace. I find it unsettling.

Elrond has never known anything but conflict. As peace settles over the land he must reckon with the unknowns it brings and his place within the future, all while facing the biggest decision of his life.

Written for Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 Prompt #170: Small Birds, Dry Grass by Vinyatar. Their beautiful artwork can be found here.

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A death and a rebirth. Proud Nōwē sunk to the depths as the Shipwright rose, foresighted and wise beyond all else on these shores. And his name was refuge, steadfast friendship and succour in time of need. A cry died unvoiced in his throat, the death knell of the brave and daring young Nōwē. Círdan would have to be so much more.

Written for Scribbles & Drabbles 2025 Art Prompt #85: There is No Ship by Shadow, which can be found here.

The title is taken from lyrics of There Is No Ship by Rose Betts.

Listen to an audio recording of this work here.

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His life in Valinor.

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Idril was trying

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The twins were bored. That, in Tyelkormo's experience, was a very, very bad thing, more so when Maitimo wasn’t actually home to deal with the terror and he was himself supposed to be the Responsible Adult. 

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Galadriel is curious about one facet of Mithrandir's plan for dealing with the dragon.

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Bad dreams?” I ask, and Elrond nods. When I brush against his mind it laps like the tide against some desolate shore, and he stands alone in the washed out landscape. Young eyes rove over a heartless sea where the horizon is empty of all but tossing waves. White cliffs are at his back, reeds peek over sandy dunes southward along the shore, and Elrond’s heart fills with the hollow echo: no longer my home, no longer my home.

There is a new star in the sky and and old fears surface. Maedhros supports through Elrond and Elros through their ensuing emotional turmoil as he battles his own.

Written for the SWG October Challenge 2025: The Only Thing to Fear using the prompt: fear of being alone.

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The day Melkor was almost overcome by the only creature more vile than himself.

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Elwing flies across the ocean but she is tired and doesn't know how much farther she can go

For November 2025 instadrabbling

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Finarfin wishes for a simple end

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A stranger and a stranger stranger talk and dream about their fears.

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Robert Oppenheimer finds himself back in the Jornado del Muerto desert with Fionn and Saunders in this epilogue to Trinity, inspired by Anérea's illustration that accompanies Grundy's interview with me for Mereth Aderthad 2025.

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Vingilot was a magnet for bugs, and Eärendil feared coming back to land because of it. 

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Once, in gold-cast days of careless bliss, the three of you used to be—something. A triangular shape, always revolving around each other. Warm hands, late nights, a tangle of limbs in opulent beds. A reprieve, a stolen treasure, and you all thought, then, that it could always be like that; that one day, the world would bend to your folly, and all would be well.

What fools you had been.

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Fingon, Finrod, the Ice, and the gaping space between them.

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"I think something is going to happen soon.”
“Something good or something bad?” Maglor asked.
“Something important,” Elros said, looking suddenly very serious and far older than his years. He and Elrond both looked at Maglor with starlit eyes under shadowy hair, Melian’s children whom the birds and the stars would both love.

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Miriel returns quietly, without fanfare.

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On a sunny day in spring, Frodo got the urge to go north and west, up into Arnor, which was still quite wild and uninhabited outside of newly-built Annúminas, and the slow trickle of work happening around the ruins of Fornost, which even the Dúnedain were still sometimes reluctant to visit. When he spoke of his plan, his dad told him to remember to pack enough food and not to forget a bit of rope, and his mother said not to forget his cloak. Most of his siblings were too young yet to be permitted to go along, but Elanor immediately asked if he wanted company.

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An attempt at a hobbit-song, inspired by a musical instadrabbling prompt.

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Pallando the Blue Wizard arrives in Middle Earth in the Middle of the Second Age to aid the Elves of Lindon and Eregion in their war against Sauron. Almost at once, he abandons his post, leaving the war effort to Alatar his partner, and travels East. Some force compels him to go to the Red Mountains, his feet drawing him ever on towards the Gates of the Sun at Kalorme. Along the way he will go to the ruins of Belegost, encounter Daeron the Loremaster lingering on the shores of Lake Nenuial, and travel the Old Dwarf Road to Gundabad to council the Longbeards on the war in Eregion. But he is drawn thence to the Eastern shores of Rhun, where an ancient mystery from a lost realm of the Avari awaits him: the realm of Palisor. It is King Tu, last King of the Wild Elves, who from his seat in the underground lake on the Eastern Shores of Rhun, holds the key that will save the Men of the East — or put them under the Shadow forever. 

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painting of the Tower of Pearl in the Western Isles

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The land of Dor-Lómin welcomes a displaced Easterling woman after Nírnaeth Arnoediad. Theirs is a short-lived yet reverent kinship.

Written for the SWG Jumble Sale Challenge September 2025. Sold! One Headstrong rake!

The challenge was to have a character with an identity from Middle Earth is Multitudes interact with the setting-as-character as in Living Lands, in a way that explores nature vs civilization. 

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As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Galadriel looked up to find Celeborn following. “What is it you seek?” he asked as she filled the silver ewer from the clear and cold waters of the stream.
“My cousin,” she said as she turned to the silver basin. “It is a new Age; if he lives still, I would find him and bring an end to his long exile.”

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Three little unrelated stories from Eglador/Doriath

1) Ziriz, a young jewel-smith from Belegost, accompanies his lord to Eglador, to see the Elves for himself.

2) On the day Melian hallows Tarn Aeluin, she feels very lost, not sure who or what she is anymore. Elu comforts her.

3) Galadriel gets to know her great-aunt (and soon to be grandmother-in-law) Thônwen, Elmo’s wife, while simultaneously marvelling at cultural differences. 

(These short stories were written for Sindar Week on Tumblr)  

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A repository of little songs for elflings, as compiled by Maglor Fëanorion in the late first age.

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Fëanor did not know how to explain the ill-defined uneasiness and the almost instinctual dislike he felt, how impossible it was to reconcile the impression he had gotten from the tapestry in Mandos to the reality of Daeron in person, in life. “He seems careless,” he said, because he did not know how else to explain. 

“That is certainly not true,” said Nerdanel, “though I know well that I cannot expect you to take my word for it. It is long since you placed any trust in anyone’s judgment aside from your own, flawed though it is.”

Midwinter is meant to be a time of feasting and merriment, but Fëanor does not find it so, especially with Daeron of Doriath in attendance. 

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