Princess Findis was resplendent, luminous in a silver gown shimmering with diamonds and pearls, and with diamonds in her long golden hair, so that she seemed to be a living embodiment of the Mingling Trees—an effect only made stronger by the bright emerald of her eyes. No matter where Elemmírë looked over the course of the night she saw the princess, and more than once she found the princess looking back. 

“There’s a goblin hiding in the taters, Dad!” Pippin hefted the pan, which was much too big for him to carry, let alone wield.

Finrod visits the hobbits for a snack. 

"Gather your strength, Daeron. I will get you to the Ford of Bruinen.”
“Will you swear it, kinslayer?” Daeron asked, voice heavy with irony and with something else Maglor couldn’t quite identify. 
He paused for a moment. Then he said, “Yes.” 

"I think something is going to happen soon.”
“Something good or something bad?” Maglor asked.
“Something important,” Elros said, looking suddenly very serious and far older than his years. He and Elrond both looked at Maglor with starlit eyes under shadowy hair, Melian’s children whom the birds and the stars would both love.

On a sunny day in spring, Frodo got the urge to go north and west, up into Arnor, which was still quite wild and uninhabited outside of newly-built Annúminas, and the slow trickle of work happening around the ruins of Fornost, which even the Dúnedain were still sometimes reluctant to visit. When he spoke of his plan, his dad told him to remember to pack enough food and not to forget a bit of rope, and his mother said not to forget his cloak. Most of his siblings were too young yet to be permitted to go along, but Elanor immediately asked if he wanted company.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Galadriel looked up to find Celeborn following. “What is it you seek?” he asked as she filled the silver ewer from the clear and cold waters of the stream.
“My cousin,” she said as she turned to the silver basin. “It is a new Age; if he lives still, I would find him and bring an end to his long exile.”

Fëanor did not know how to explain the ill-defined uneasiness and the almost instinctual dislike he felt, how impossible it was to reconcile the impression he had gotten from the tapestry in Mandos to the reality of Daeron in person, in life. “He seems careless,” he said, because he did not know how else to explain. 

“That is certainly not true,” said Nerdanel, “though I know well that I cannot expect you to take my word for it. It is long since you placed any trust in anyone’s judgment aside from your own, flawed though it is.”

Midwinter is meant to be a time of feasting and merriment, but Fëanor does not find it so, especially with Daeron of Doriath in attendance. 

"Whatever the songs say, I am still only myself, and I miss my grandfather.”

Five times Eärendil asks for news of Turgon, and one time he does not have to.

Then Dírhavel sung of Túrin’s flight north after the Fall of Nargothrond, past the defiled waters of Ivrin as he sought for the Princess Finduilas Faelivrin, and Tuor rose suddenly from his seat, passing out of the hall without a word. 

Well, Fëanor frightened him. Fëanor frightened them all, still, in one way or another. 

Fëanor's sons receive letters from him, and try to decide what to do.

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. 

Now a great crowd of spirits, both Elves and lingering Men, were gathered before the newest tapestry as it fell open down the wall, luminous, gold and silver threads glittering in the pale light of Mandos.

They found Elrond’s sons with Legolas and Gimli, and with Éomer King and Lady Éowyn, standing before an enormous fresco of a charging army of horsemen. “Why, isn’t that what just happened, the way it was told to us?” Sam exclaimed, looking up at it.

“No! This is a painting of the Battle of the Fields of Celebrant, long ago,” said Lady Éowyn, smiling at them

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.

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.

Finarfin comes to Nargothrond during the War of Wrath

Frodo spent his last summer in the Shire much as he had the one before he’d gone on his journey.

The night was warm and the breeze balmy; night-blooming flowers covered the hillside, glowing in the light of hundreds, thousands of fireflies that flitted about and winked in mesmerizing patterns as Smith climbed to the top

On moonless nights when he could not sleep, Finrod wandered.