New Challenge: Title Track
Tolkien's titles range from epic to lyrical to metaphorical. This month's challenge selected 125 of them as prompts for fanworks.

Finrod is truamatized from the sudden responsibility thrust upon him and from crossing the Helcaraxë. When he receives a message stating the Petty-dwarves of Nargothrond plan to murder his people, he exiles them. Mîm decides to assassinate Finrod to stop him. What could go wrong?

Following Maedhros averting the burning of the ships, Fingon worries, Maedhros finds a new reason to live, and Fëanor begins to wonder if he has made some mistakes. And underneath it all is enough love that they're all hoping, maybe just this once, it won't end in tragedy.

Nerdanel ran her fingers along one, and turned her thoughts to her son, hoping for a glimpse of more than a misty shore, or of the ragged hem of his cloak. She wished to see his face, wished to see that he was somewhere safe and warm and perhaps not still alone after so long. But even a glimpse of him lonely but whole upon the shore would be a relief, and enough to banish the dreams that had troubled her, knowing them for just dreams and nothing more.
Troubled by dark dreams, Nerdanel picks up a palantír to seek for Maglor. She finds him.
After, Maedhros has returned to life and also seeks for his brother--and also finds him.

Series of snippets focusing on Finrod and written for the Restoration & Rebuilding and Jubilee challenges

A collection of drabbles about women in Tolkien's Legendarium.

“No,” he says once more, cutting his father off. The pressure in his chest hurts. He wanted to rest but instead there’s a great, spiked ball of fury dragging itself up his throat. “If you burn those boats I will walk out there and burn with them. I’ll swear it to Eru if you don’t believe me. Damn myself to the darkness twice.” He had intended to burn anyways, may as well go out the way he’d meant to, let his death mean something this time. Let it be for something that matters.
There must be something truly terrible on his face because his father visibly falters.
“You would not,” his father says but his voice wavers slightly.

Two survivors finally get together, with a bit of help from Elrond.

He doesn’t need to stay but he knows, that buried in his heart is that same little desire that had sometimes had him looking over his shoulder after he’d left Nargothrond. That little thought that he’d turn to look and find Curufin and Celegorm riding up behind them because they’d realized they didn’t want him to go into danger alone. He just wants his friend back really. Doesn’t know if that’s possible. Especially if Celegorm isn’t willing to even try to apologize. He’s just hurt. He’s never handled that as gracefully as he should.
Or: Finrod just wanted to retrieve his niece and return to Tirion so he didn’t have to explain to his sister why he let her daughter come to even more harm. He absolutely did not want to deal with all the old hurts that seeing Celegorm brought back up. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like he's going to get much of a choice in the matter. Everything is going totally fine.

In the end, what stops him are Tyelpe’s hands.

There was, he thinks slowly, trudging through the grief mired thoughts, gold ribbons coated in blood, a cold bed, a gaping emptiness in his mind where a marriage bond used to hum. There were years and years with only his brothers and even those dwindled with time.
His ears catch on a voice raised high, panicked, and then with terrifying force, the marriage bond snaps back into place, filling an emptiness he’d only just begun to grasp the edges of, and everything goes very sharp and clear.
Fingon, he thinks, feels the answering burst of confusion, fear, hope. “Fingon.”

Celebrían sails.
The send her to Lórien first and she flees. She stays with her grandfather and Finarfin does not understand. Finrod tries to help and she doesn’t know how to let him. She smiles a lot. Nods. Grits her teeth and tries to find anything, anything, to spark a desire to live in her chest again.
And then three years later, wandering the streets of Tirion, she hears the whispers - the Fëanorians have begun returning - and for the first time since she arrived, a small spark of interest takes root in her chest.
Or: Celebrían makes some choices many would find questionable, Celegorm grapples with the difficulty of having genuine interactions with anyone, and Finrod was completely prepared to rip Celegorm's throat out too if he'd harmed Celebrían. Everything is going totally fine.

Celebrimbor comes to Galadriel with word of Annatar’s betrayal, and offers her a gift.

A victim of one of Saruman's attempts to interbreed orcs and humans becomes fully aware of the reality of her situation and manages to escape into the borders of Fangorn.
The pursuit is close behind and she is panicking.

Like Smaug, Scatha, a great cold-drake of the North, keeps track of his hoard.

She sits alone in her room and pulls the silmaril out. Stares at it in the dark until the light makes her cry. Weighs the blood of her kin staining the Fëanorians hands against the yet unspilled blood of the people she’s been told are her responsibility. Holds the question she’s never been able to answer in her hands and makes herself think — what makes a monster? She knows what her advisors say. She knows what her people whisper. She knows their blood will run red regardless of which set of monsters end up finally coming for them.
or: Elwing is sixteen when she finally comprehends the brutality of the war ravaging Beleriand, when she realizes what it means to be told the people of Sirion are hers to protect. She is sixteen and helplessly in love and her advisor tells her that she is safe in Sirion and she cannot believe him. She comes up with a plan to fix it.

Shortly after Thingol emerged from Nan Elmoth with Melian to rejoin the Sindar: Celeborn would very much prefer not to be asked some questions by Melian.

Eight perfect drabbles (and one bonus accidentally AU one) from the SWG Discord instadrabbling session in January 2025.

Three 100 words drabbles I wrote during the Jubilee 2025 live instadrabbling event on the SWG discord server.

A selection of brief writings (mostly conforming to drabbles but some veer into dribble territory) from the SWG events on January 18-19, 2025.

Maglor, a Jedi, gets roped into investigating the theft of the Silmarilli and some Sindarin treasures. His partner? The Singer Daeron.

The tale of how the sons of Fëanor were conceived and named, and how the daughters came into being in the other two houses.

Celebrimbor fainted. Narvi worries about her friend.

Finduilas of Dol Amroth is not like Finduilas of Nargothrond at all, is she?
Or so she used to think.

There is no escaping guilt.
Or,
Maedhros finds another orphan in the woods.

“Elrond!” Elros screamed, and Elrond had time to see him being held back by Bregolon before everything went topsy-turvy, and the underbrush closed around him, branches and leaves slapping at his face. His head bounced against hard metal, and through the confusion he realized—too slowly—that it had not been one of their party who had grabbed him, but one of the orcs.