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.

Cirdan has never felt so old.

A glimpse of Luthien and Beren in Tol Galen. (Luthien's POV)

Pengolodh tries to write about the kinslaying at Sirion. He fails.

Terentaulë, the wife of Curufin, follows her husband and his family into banishment to Formenos. She leaves everything she loves behind to endure a cold and ever-maddening life making a political point she isn't sure she fully believes in. A Gothic story for Samhain, told in four triple drabbles.

Arwen's stomach hurts and she ponders mortality; Éowyn provides medicine and a sympathetic ear.

Fëanor dreams of darkness, and there is only so much Finwë can do to help. Written for the 'The Only Thing to Fear' challenge.

After a breakup, Maglor pays a visit to Himring. It would be more relaxing if his brother's boyfriend wasn't visiting too.
A Fingon/Maglor romcom.

Finrod is not fool enough to have missed the way Curufin, too, at times looks at him. Is not fool enough to make himself believe that his own attraction is some new thing, something only pushing to the surface now that they are trapped together like this, the undeniable way Curufin had saved Finrod from a worse fate, tonight.
Not that Finrod will ever thank him for it; he cannot. But he knows Curufin’s sharp-tongued, bristling demeanour for what it is, and it does not change that the two of them, whatever lies between them, are a cataclysm waiting to happen. Does not change that, in truth, Finrod should be careful to turn his back, lest he find a knife in it.
And yet.
Curufin and Finrod get snowed in. It goes about as well as can be expected.

In the corner of his eye, Finrod’s form morphs and twists, dark spots against the flickering light like gore and blood on sun-kissed skin.
Is this what he did to you? Curufin had asked once, one of the first times—drunk, not-grieving, his mind a war zone. Finrod had smiled at him then, almost tenderly. It revealed the gorge within his well-loved cheek, and Curufin would have flinched if not for the memory of pressing his fingers there, a coward’s imitation of intimacy.
“Worse,” Finrod’s ghost had said, and then had vanished, leaving Curufin to the rolling nausea of sour wine on an empty stomach.
On the eve of the battle for Doriath, Finrod pays a visit—or rather, whatever is left of him does.

Once, on one of Findekáno’s visits to Nargothrond during which Celebrimbor had had more wine than advisable, he had leaned into Findekáno’s side. Had ignored his father’s sharp eyes, and asked if he believed that there was yet any hope left for them.

“Are they fighting again?” Idril asks, wandering over to the fireplace the moment Fingolfin lets her down.
“It is what you do with siblings,” Fingolfin says, and succeeds at not laughing at the irony.
Oh, how much would be different if it were not so true. She treats him to a look full of sceptical disbelief and sets to restacking the fire.
An exploration of the Nolofinwëans in early Beleriand, and the effect that Maedhros' rescue and abdication would have had on the relationships between them, in the wake of the Ice and all its horrors.

It is nice, the sunlight and the warmth of a solid body against his. It is nice to be able to think, at least for a little while, that perhaps Curufin had been speaking true when he said he was trying. Nice in a way that means Finrod will miss it terribly when it is gone again.
“You are thinking too loudly,” Curufin mumbles against his shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Ingo.”

The furs slip to Itarillë’s hips as she sits up. Laurefindil cannot help but admire the fall of her pale golden hair, the curve of her spine, how the oil lamp lights her skin as if from within. Underneath it all, there is a heart Laurefindil will do anything to protect.
After the pronouncement of the Doom of the Noldor, Idril has a question for Glorfindel.

On the day of Tuor and Idril's wedding, Maeglin and Voronwë find some common, unstable ground.

“You cannot mean to go after him!” Celegorm exclaims, laughing wildly. “After what we did? You cannot truly mean to go after him.”
"If you would move, then I suppose we would find out."
“What is wrong with you? What about the oath, Curvo?" Celegorm asks, voice low and furious, eyes blazing so much like their father's. "You cannot go after him."
And Curufin — who has seen the endpoint of what that oath cost them, who has reunited with their father, who has listened to their father curse himself for what the oath brought upon them all — finds it the easiest thing in the world to bare his teeth and snarl, "Fuck that god forsaken oath.”

Argon falls.

"Dior shall he be called, and you shall be a comfort to each other: that though he be fatherless and motherless, and you childless, you shall not be bereft of kin."
On the lives and deaths of two kings of Doriath: Elwë of Cuiviénen, wisest and noblest of Elves, who ruled in peace ere ever the Sun rose; and Dior Eluchíl, at whose feet the realm crumbled.

"But you will not persuade me to love the Elves, Felakgundu; not though you had all the years of the world to try."
"If you will let me try a little longer," answers Finrod, "that is all I ask.”
On the deeply unlikely friendship of Mîm, Petty-dwarf of Nulukkhizdîn, and the wandering Elf-king who set up camp on his doorstep.
For TRSB Slide #21 by Huorinde.

In the Third Age, a stranger arrives in the area between the Long Lake and the Lonely Mountain. He is not quite what he seems...

Voronwe haunted by the Sea after meeting Tuor in Nevrast: two drabbles.

Hurin at the shore of the Western Sea.

She had learned the way Elves married, she did not wish to be tied to him, or him to her. She knew she was a fleeting thing in his long life, and she had her pride.
Haleth brings her son to Thargelion, seeking answers.

A long time later in Valinor, Maedhros is gathering confidence in his new life with Fingon. He remembers one particular morning during their past lives in Middle-earth.

After his release from the Halls of Mandos, Melkor seduces many of the Noldor with honeyed words and accusations against the Valar. The Two Trees are ruined and the Sun and Moon arise. One of these elves, Ardana the Astrologer, leads her people to return the skies to their original form, nothing but stars. But she must destroy the Sun and Moon to accomplish that from her holds in the south of Middle Earth.
This is a non-canon story that is inspired by an MERP RPG series that was a gift from my aunt. Most of the characters and settings were from the series and some quotes and songs are taken from Tolkien's writing. It also ties in with the Wars in Beleriand and two my other two stories, The Dark Mage of Rhudaur and The Thieves of Tharbad. The story is designed to span three ages.


War is upon the northern kingdoms as the Witch-King of Angmar unleashes his fury against Arthedain and Cardolan in the year 1409 of the Third Age. Annuminas, Amon Sul and the Barrow Downs are destroyed by the armies of Angmar and the Royal Family of Cardolan is slain, except for one young lady. A group of adventurers attempts so survive and to help rebuild the kingdom with a spoiled princess as refugees and hostile agents stream into the capitol of Tharbad.
This is a non-canon story, inspired by an MERP RPG series. Arthedain and Cardolan stand against Angmar and the puppet kingdom of Rhudaur. This is a sequel to The Dark Mage of Rhudaur and contains a number of the same characters. It will also tie into The Court of Ardor. There will be occasional quotes from Tolkien's writing to flesh out the story.