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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

Galadriel could never have been expected to take the news of Finrod's death well.

The halls were not so unlike his own

A little fluffy snowy ficlet.

Ingwë, Finwë, Elwë and Olwë each make decisions that change their lives -and Elvish history- forever.
(Written for the Teitho-challenge ‘crossroads’ an eternity ago)

It is a night of joy and anticipation for the royal family of Eglador, for Galadhon and his wife are about to welcome their second child. So while all the family is busy preparing for the new baby's arrival, it falls upon the king himself to put his daughter to bed- his daughter who is adamant that she is not tired at all.
(A friendly nod here to all my German-speaking readers: this story was heavily inspired by one of my favourite children's books "Valerie und die Gute-Nacht-Schaukel" by Mira Lobe. If you know, you know. If not, it is really worth checking out)

Fingon dances in the new year. Maedhros watches, and yearns.

Drawing of Finrod discovering a new friend while exploring Beleriand.

He burnt himself to ashes, Makalaurë had told them, voice remarkably steady for one who clearly did not want to speak of it. It had taken several back-and-forths of clarification for Ñolofinwë to realize this was meant in the most literal manner possible. His brother had managed to outshine everyone else even on the matter of death itself, and he had been forced to close his eyes for a long minute for fear that he would start crying or laughing, or worse, both.

Emeldir bakes. A podfic of "Proving" by sallysavestheday. Length - 06:49 minutes.

Promo posts for smaller fandoms, written by me for Innumerable Stars, originally for posting on Dreamwidth and Tumblr.

“There’s a goblin hiding in the taters, Dad!” Pippin hefted the pan, which was much too big for him to carry, let alone wield.

Mairon is anxiously waiting for Eönwë to come to visit him, and to pass the time, he goes baking in Yavanna's kitchen.

Finrod visits the hobbits for a snack.

On a cold winter day in the Havens of Sirion, Elwing meets two sparrows.
English translation of my fic "En mä ole, lapseni, lintu tästä maasta"

Eräänä kylmänä talviaamuna Sirionin satamissa Elwing kohtaa kaksi varpusta

Before Círdan can sail West he has one last task to complete: find Maglor Fëanorion and bring him home. Aided by the capricious maia of the sea, Ossë, it does not prove difficult to find him. The trouble is, Maglor does not want to come.
Written for Scribbles and Drabbles 2025 Prompt #89: Guided by the Lonely Star by Maglor My Beloved, whose artwork can be found here.

The Great Journey viewed from Elwë’s eyes, from the morning of their leaving to the very last Finwë ever heard from him.
(And don’t come at me for the title, I can explain xD I’ve never watched RoP and never will, but I love that song, because to me, that’s totally Elmo’s song. Not guilty at all of fitting everything in my headcanons at all, nooooooo, never.)

Oh it was so good. Just that perfect puffy pastry with crunchy almonds on top. Just enough sweetness to satisfy Tyelkormo’s sweet tooth, without being so overwhelming that it’d disgust him in two bites. No really, this croissant was just utter perfection!

Two bird-related drabbles featuring Elwing and Eärendil for December 2025 Instadrabbling