Cultus Dispatches: Six Demographic Takeaways from the 2025 Tolkien Fanfiction Survey
Ten years of demographic data from the Tolkien Fanfiction Survey show consistencies in who reads and writes fanfiction, as well as a few key demographic shifts.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if the characters in The Silmarillion were smoooooth like they were sippin' a Sex on the Beach on a party barge in the harbor at Alqualondë? The "Yacht Rock Silmarillion" retells The Silmarillion as though the characters all had perms and had one too many buttons open, revealing too much chest hair, but hey, no one is killing anyone! This playlist follows the events of The Silmarillion through yacht rock songs.

"Move farther north," Caranthir says to her a month after the attack, gaze steady on her even as his hands continue briskly gutting fish. "There is plenty of land closer to my fortress, and my people can help protect yours if there is another attack."
Haleth looks up from her own fish, frowning a bit at the sight he makes. Even after a month, she hasn't grown used to the sight of this elvish prince so casually working with the rest of them. She opens her mouth to refuse, proud of her people and their independence, having no desire to be indebted to anyone, but the words catch in her throat as she meets his eyes. She thinks treacherously of his mouth against the inside of her wrist, and what comes out instead is, "How close to your keep are you trying to drag us? And what is the cost?"
Or: Caranthir asks and Haleth agrees. This does not mean they were prepared for what follows.

But how could they ever think to sleep on a night such as this? Their hours together are already so short, and in these days of encroaching darkness they only grow shorter. Tonight Fingon’s bed is warm, and Fingon is also, and Maedhros is loath to close his eyes even long enough to blink.
***
Maedhros, Fingon, and their final night together before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

Eventually they arrived, and Echeleb and Dernodhos ushered Anniavas in. Dernodhos found an old thin pallet somewhere and unrolled it on the floor, made him lie down with Limral—who had immediately perked up and started sniffing the air—and went and found them a heavy piece of cloth to use as a blanket. The frayed and ragged edges and complex, cut-off pattern made it look as if it had once been part of a larger tapestry. It was beautifully woven, but singed dark in places, where fire must have touched it.
“What’s this?” Anniavas asked, sleepy and curious—at least it was something to focus on other than his current fears.
Dernodhos paused, running her fingers along it, with an expression on her face he hadn’t seen before. “A memory,” she said.“Of a story from long ago.” She ruffled his hair gently. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”
-- The Mirror Crack'd, Chapter Seven, Without the Hands of a Healer
A series of perfect drabbles about Dernodhos's blanket.

In the aftermath of the third kinslaying and the death of Amrod and Amras, Maglor needs to reassure himself that Maedhros is still there with him.

Celebrimbor tests a new idea, sets Narvi a challenge, and makes a confession.

In the darkness just before dawn, Haleth of the Haladin meets an Elf-lady with eyes as bright as a falcon's, and both their fates are changed.

Narvi adorns Celebrimbor with jewelry while telling him a story about the creation of mithril.

Feanor and Fingolfin, from their youth to their fall.
"I will do this gladly," Fingolfin said, whispering into Feanor's mouth, grasping for reasons and sense. "Gladly, if it will bring peace between us. If it will end the madness."
"The madness will not end," Feanor said. "There will never be peace."
Chapters 1-11 and 18 were originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2002 and slightly revised for this version. Chapters 12-17 were written in 2026.

These were simply flashes, a hint of a wider, greater world. A tantalizing glimpse of more, always at the edge of awareness, never within reach. Míriel would grasp it, if something as intangible as the concept of color could overflow in bounteous wonder over her hands.
But then fire was caught, tamed and kept and cherished, and their world was suddenly awash with light. The world expanded, a pageantry of blues and greens and browns. A cacophony of color, overwhelming in its saturation.
In which Míriel falls in love with the colors in the earliest days, and Indis too.

Finrod is called to Mandos to speak with the spirit of a kinsman who is pardoned, yet refuses to rejoin the living.

Celebrimbor and Narvi have a good day where only nice things happen! No plot, just an Elf and a Dwarf being happy and making shiny things. Written for the All The Nice Things flash exchange.

Níniel's hands remember, when her mind does not.

A woman of the Faithful is heartbroken to learn that her beloved Inzilbêth will be forced to marry the king Ar-Gimilzôr.

In the interludes between Eärendil's voyages, he is wholly Elwing's and she is wholly his. They share a languid afternoon together.
Written for the Famous Last Words Challenge Prompt: I'm gonna take it with me when I go - Take It With Me, Tom Waits

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.

Luthien helps unlock Galadriel's Sight

As a very young elfling, Mablung's heart chooses its companion, and Mablung stays true to this love until the end of his life in Middle-Earth.

With any luck, he will simply be able to keep Finrod alive until Beren gets himself killed as he is destined to do, and then he can drag Finrod back to Nargothrond alive and well. It will not be an end that leaves Finrod once more in Curufin’s bed, but it will be an end that he can live with. Curufin needs Finrod to live, every other ending leaving him with bile on his tongue and nausea haunting him. He knows this is foolish. He knows he is ruining the carefully crafted plans he’s been building for years, cutting all the strings he’d been ready to carefully pull, but when he closes his eyes—
When he closes his eyes, he sees blood caught in the dulled yellow of Finrod’s hair, blood on his mouth, his cheeks, blood weeping from his throat. Curufin closes his eyes and cannot bear to keep them closed.
“We are going with you,” he says simply, the words like ash in his mouth.

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.

Curufin has practiced the words in his head a thousand times, knows what needs to be said to begin to fix this. But what comes out of his mouth instead is, "I'm not sorry." Lie. "I'm not, and I'd do it all again the same way if necessary." Lie. "But I—" and he falters, still unable to push a single truth up his throat. In a way, Finrod is right, he hasn't changed at all.
Finrod is studying him with a resigned air draped about him like a cloak. "Oh, how I hate you," Finrod says softly, fingers loosely curled into fists, and this too sounds like a lie. Neither of them have ever been particularly truthful with each other.

Haleth is hungry

As beautiful as he is dangerous, Aegnor, an elven prince, stands against the looming shadows of Angband. Brother to Galadriel, he commands the siege with a fierce intensity, a duty that exacts a heavy toll on him. Beneath the iron walls he has built lies a broken soul, haunted by a devastating trauma and a well of deeply guarded secrets. His demons, kept at bay by his unyielding intensity that is both his greatest gift and his biggest curse.
Little does our Noldorin prince know that a chance encounter with a terrified young girl of men will set him on a collision course, igniting an extraordinary bond wrought with challenges, sacrifices, and intense love that threatens to unravel his guarded heart, and all he keeps within it.
Brace yourself for Part I of this captivating tale, where the primal power of love and devestating loss will tear lives apart forever.

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.

Maedhros has received an invitation to one of Elu Thingol's exclusive charity galas. She opts to take her sister as a plus-one. She'll probably regret that.