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.

A collection of drabbles primarily featuring male characters from the Legendarium

“I do love you, Russandol. You know I do, do you not?”
For a long, drawn-out moment, Maedhros only stares. Something is taking root in his chest, something he knows, then, he will not be able to extricate from himself again. “I know,” he says, voice rough. “I—“
But Fingon stops him, pressing a hand to Maedhros’ mouth. “Don’t, not yet; tell me when we see each other next.”
Five times they share their own small ritual upon separation and reunion, and one time it takes a little longer than either of them can endure to mark its completion.

And of course, of course it is about the boats. Fingon wants—oh, Fingon wants to forgive Maedhros so badly, but he dreams of leaping flames, of the feeling in his chest like something is crushing his ribs, slowly, inevitably, to dust and grime.
“What do you want, Makalaurë?” he asks again, except that this time, it comes out angry. He has ever had an atrocious grip on his temper.
“You should ask him about it.”
Forgiveness takes time and honesty. Fingon has never been a patient person; Maedhros, in recent times, has not been an honest one.
Eventually, they work it out.

A dream that Elrond never mentioned to Maglor son of Fëanor.

Happened to come across this record while helping Círdan clear out his basement. Yes, I know I’m supposed to be taking a break. I find organization relaxing. Anyway, I’m sending it your way because I know what you’re like about any kind of Númenorean historical records, and this is an interesting one. Seems to be a first-person testimony, originally in Adunaic and translated into Westron, then later transcribed, with some notes from a Mannish historian post-Fall. Be warned: it isn’t light reading.
I’ll be returning in a week or two. Try not to let the library become impossibly disorganized in my absence.
—Erestor

A slightly different take on Maedhros' end in half a drabble.
Plus half a drabble of Maglor's.

A series of short responses to instadrabbling prompts on Sat, Apr 5, 2025.

Fingolfin feels like part of him is still stuck in Beleriand, blood on his teeth and an all-consuming anger splintering out of control. Like he'll blink and once again see Morgoth's foot coming down. He wants. What does he want? He does not wish to be dead. He is, he supposes, grateful for this chance to fix things as much as they can be fixed. But he wants.
He wants for Fëanor to know him. Wants to work through all the ugly words and acts of violence that had divided them and come out the other side better for it. He cannot throw all the scathing anger in his chest at a brother who does not understand. Cannot scream at this Fëanor for burning the boats, for leaving them to the ice, for Elenwë, for Arakáno, for the countless others who had followed him and paid for it. And so what is he meant to do with the anger? He cannot swallow it all down forever and also salvage his relationship with Fëanor in this new song.
He wants, he thinks, watching a potter unmake a bowl that was marred, to un-sing himself as well.

Maeglin writes to Idril.
Sketches inspired by the 2025 Birthday Bash challenge prompts!

In the wake of his ravishing by Morgoth, Mairon, who was Arien, falls.

Five tents, he counts. Two dead guards. The fire within him burns so white, he wonders if it will leave anything of himself behind. Wonders if he can bring himself to care. Wonders, too, if this is what his father had felt like when he found the innards of their grandfather’s head spilt over his well-wrought front steps.
If so, perhaps Maedhros finally understands.
Maglor is taken. Maedhros handles it as well as can be expected, which is not at all.

They speak as if they have not been sending messengers to keep each other informed of what was necessary. As if this—war, strategy, cold facts—is not all they have exchanged ever since Maedhros had removed them East.
He wonders if Maglor has forgiven him yet—for giving away the crown, for not asking him first, for coming back someone other than himself. He wonders if he has forgiven Maglor yet—for leaving him to Morgoth, for looking at him returned only with horror and guilt. For not forgiving him yet.
They have not spoken in twenty years. Maedhros doubts that this is the kind of reuniting that their uncle had in mind.

He used to be able to read his brother better than his own mind. He used to think that he would do anything, would bear anything, to have him back.
Maglor’s worst crime to date, he thinks, is that in this, too, he has proven himself a liar.
Maedhros abdicates the throne. Maglor copes, more or less (it's definitely less).

Celebrimbor smiles into the dark, and wonders if this is what Nelyafinwë meant when he spoke of the satisfaction of resistance, no matter its price.
Sauron does not kill him in Eregion. This is his first mistake.

The Lord of the Eagles would not take them anywhere near where men lived. "They would shoot at us with their great bows of yew," he said, "for they would think we were after their sheep. And at other times they would be right..."
~ The Hobbit, Chapter VI
An Eagle of Manwë is stealing people's sheep. Fingon investigates.

After an attempt on the High King's life, Celebrimbor realizes his priorities.

Netyalindë was walking home slowly, after the Valar announced the horror that had taken place in Alqualondë, promising it would be the last time such a deed is seen in their lands.
Her eyes had gotten used to the darkness around her she thought. Or perhaps it was that she knew those streets like the back of her hand-stitched pocket that currently held in secret the brooch that Fëanáro had made for her for her wedding to his second-born son.

In the wake of the fall of Eregion in the Second Age, the loremaster Pengolodh comes to the newly-founded refuge of Rivendell. Although Elrond has never seen eye to eye with the reserved loremaster, can they work through the pain of their pasts and come to a common understanding?

Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; Finarfin needs no doom, no treasonous brothers, no Middle-earth to believe it true.
The House of Arafinwë before, during, and after its Exile. A history told in an assortment of loosely connected drabbles.

After the attack on the Havens of Sirion, a figure from Maedhros' past comes face-to-face with him one last time.

These are the first fanfics I ever read, and they are all truly fabulous and absolutely timeless and 100% recommended!

After a drunken night at Minas Tirith, Fingon and Orodreth wake up married with a baby on the way.