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.

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.

In Dor-lómin, Tuor and Lady Aerin both dream of a golden-haired child. (Lalaith is doing her best, considering that she's a young child and also dead.)

Three intrepid stellar explorers witness a crack in the edge of the universe and are guided by an ancient spirit animating an automaton to a strange and unexpected place where they hope to rescue their kidnapped cat. A cat who may hold the future--or its inevitable end--in his far-too-ancient paws.

Order is his goal, something Morgoth only uses to create chaos later, but there is a sliver in Morgoth only Mairon sees.

Argon, my sweet, foolish, impetuous youngest brother, ran ahead. I found him, you know, before he died.
Fingon remembers the first rising of the Moon and Sun, mourns his youngest brother and resolves that his cousin will not share Argon's fate.

The fall of the Witch-king of Angmar, as told in the meter of Hiawatha.

The Gap falls. Hemmoril and Maglor try to cope, with varying success.

Brandir of Brethil also loved Niënor, and his death stands among the tragedies of the Children of Húrin: an alliterative poem.

If Aredhel had to listen to one more person heap praise on her brother while she stood right beside him, completely disregarded, she might scream. The praises were well deserved, she must admit. But was it only Fingon who scouted ahead over the treacherous shifting ice of the Helcaraxë? Didn’t Aredhel also take her fair share of that hazardous duty?
In the early days at Lake Mithrim, Aredhel endures a restriction in her freedom after the comparative autonomy she had during the crossing of the Helcaraxë. Fingolfin seems set on weighing her down with safe and mundane duties. Aredhel is not enjoying this one bit. Her father may be able to keep her inside the encampment, but he cannot tame her. She longs to for greater freedom, but when it comes it is not be the victory she was hoping for.

Maedhros finds that regret and pain do not end with death. But it does at last bring release from the oath and he can at last embark upon the long, hard road toward redemption.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the lantern light. He stared at Elrohir with a strange look—horror and helpless fear mixed with longing and perhaps…recognition? But Elrohir did not recognize him, he was sure. And there was something else in his eyes too—a Light that Elrohir had seen before only in a handful of people, dimmed by pain and fear, but not extinguished. “It’s all right,” Elrohir said. “We’re going to take you away from this place.”
The Necromancer is driven from Mirkwood, and Elladan and Elrohir find someone altogether unexpected in the pits of Dol Guldur.

As the Sons of Fëanor set their feet on the path to the sack of Doriath, Caranthir reflects on the characters of himself and his brothers and contemplates where the responsibility lies for their predicament.

Daeron is caught by orcs in the shadow of the Ephel Dúath, but is rescued by someone entirely unexpected.

They passed out of Lhûn and the wider coastline of Middle-earth opened up before his eyes. He had wandered those shores for centuries, and even now he felt the pull of that same wanderlust, and knew he would miss them for the rest of his life. Their wildness, the untamed waves, the rocky shores and the cliffs and the sandy beaches. The gulls, and the dunes, and the tide pools with their ever-changing denizens. Someone began to sing a song of farewell, and other voices took it up. He did not join them.
Maglor keeps a promise, and comes to Valinor, only to find the ghosts he thought he'd left behind are alive and waiting for him.

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?

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

But at the very end of the letter she spoke of one more prisoner that Elladan and Elrohir had discovered in one of the deepest dungeons of Dol Guldur, locked away behind a door unopened in so long that the hinges had rusted.
Maglor has been rescued from Dol Guldur, and now faces a long road of healing.

Nellas, long after the fall of Doriath, is again a witness to tragedy
This is a very geeky crossover between The Silmarillion and Njal’s Saga, the longest and arguably best of the early medieval Icelandic Sagas which Tolkien knew very well.

Completed.
"At least we have learned that the sons of Fëanor can die too." Nine POVs, one matter - a story about the kinslaying in Doriath.

Two Orcs discuss the increased price on Beren's head.

Blood wells to the surface, hot and sticky. It runs over Curufin’s hand and down Finrod’s neck, the smell almost overwhelming. Finrod thrashes when Curufin presses fabric against the wound with enough force that darkness dances along the edges of Finrod’s vision.
He is breathing harshly, and it sends pain lacing through him with every inhale, every exhale. His hands have found Curufin’s legs, his wrist, nails digging into fabric and soft skin.
Finrod would apologise, but he does not think that he has anything but curses and confessions within him.
Finrod gets hurt. Curufin does what he must.

The third kinslaying, as a musical.
Please do not take this too seriously. The writer certainly doesn't.