New Challenge: Everyman
Create a fanwork about an ordinary character in the legendarium using a quote about an unnamed character as inspiration.

Ossë raged.

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

The second time Haleth found her way to the glade full of white and yellow flowers, she wasn’t hunting game. She was, however, looking for the stranger.
Haleth meets a stranger in the woods who changes her life forever.

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

Vána greets the coming spring.

A Petrarchan sonnet on the ruins of Ost-in-Edhil.

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.

After the Fall of Numenor, the Elves of Lindon try to find out what happened to the ships of Isildur and Anarion. A pair of drabbles featuring Galdor and Anarion's wife.

Mairon hates all endings.

A rather emotional Beleg-comes-back-to-Túrin acrostic.

Ungoliant's brood cause her annoyance as they grow up and turn into normies.

Two Numenoreans talking about bread. That's all it is.

In which Celebrían encounters a satsuma plum, the piercing insight of Finrod Felagund, and the two decide to paint each other’s skin. Or, Celebrían and Finrod do trauma recovery in their own unique way.

She had considered, for a brief while, volunteering to take her mother’s place. To run and hide the two of them away on the coast, well away from the dangers of the north. But her brother deserved better than that. If he could not have both parents, then he should at least have one, and not just an older sister who knew nothing of raising children. And besides, her father needed her here. She was still his heir apparent. The first resort and line of defense. It was her who had the training and the knowledge to lead their people if anything should happen to their lord, and the lineage to reinforce her claim. But something deep in her chest, sitting somewhere behind her still-beating heart, went sharp at the thought. If she did take her father’s place, she feared it would not be for long.
Sighing, she lifted her baby brother up and kissed his forehead. His skin was still soft, the way that infants’ was. This might be the last time she would ever see him.
What a burden to place on the shoulders of a child who was only just seeing his first winter

Curufin lets Finrod say goodbye.

How high a price, not only for words but for blood on holy shores? For smoke on the horizon? For trust and love unyielding, tossed aside in the hours of one dark night? And what, then, the price for unearned forgiveness? For offering the other cheek, for offering to slay kin all over, again, again, again in his name?
“Would you have come with me, if I had asked?” The truth is, Fingon is not sure of the answer. The truth is, he had asked himself, nights on end, what the answer to that question would be. Had asked himself where they had gone so wrong, that he no longer knew.
“Would you have asked, if you were sure of the answer?”
Fingon rescues Maedhros. He and Finrod grapple with the aftermath.

Maedhros watches him for long moments, his eyes cold in the dim light of morning. “If I wanted to talk to you, I would ask, not use my brother to trick you.”
The implication lands like a blow, precise and devastating. Finrod takes another step closer, then stops himself, fists clenching at his sides. Maedhros has ever been like this, to him—every single word eliciting a reaction; making him fly, bringing him low, tearing him open. What a terrible thing to still find it true, so many years and betrayals later.
Once, Fingon and Maedhros had been Finrod's lovers, the past participle of it carrying the sentence. As it turns out, not everything agrees to be relegated so neatly.

Aegnor cut him off, eyes blazing in self-defense as he slipped into the half-forbidden tongue of their mother’s people. “I did not know that you knew each other when—”
“That does not matter!” Finrod said, also dropping Sindarin in favor of Telerin. It was easier to argue in the language of their childhood rather than diplomacy. Besides, it afforded them some privacy. “It shouldn’t matter whether she knew me or not! You should not have done this!”
or: Aegnor panics, makes a decision, and goes to his oldest brother for validation. It does not end well.

A sound came, then, that was not sleet or wind or the heavy breathing of one who slept. It was footsteps, crunching in the ice outside. They stopped for a moment, and the tent flap opened, granting entrance to both Ingoldo and a cold gust of air. His face was red with cold.
“How did it go?” he asked in a low voice as Ingoldo turned to secure the flap once more.
“As well as can be expected.”

Maedhros stands at the battlements of Himring and faces Thangorodrim.

Fëanor watches from the Halls.

Pengolodh interviews a kinslayer.

Drabbles written for the Great Beleriand Bake-Off Plus! Instadrabbling.

Drabbles written at the Insta-drabbling session at the SWG Discord on 21 December (Winter Solstice in the northern nemisphere), for expanded prompt sets based on the Bake-off Challenge.