The blossoms have appeared in the land / The time of pruning has come / The song of the turtledove / Is heard in our land

The green figs form on the fig tree / The vines in blossom give off fragrance / Arise, my darling / My fair one, come away!

- Song of Songs 2:12-3

Haleth and Caranthir attempt to make love and discover they don't know much about making babies.

My attempt at subverting the bodice-ripper; a triple drabble.

This, too, will soon slip out of reach / This, too, will soon come to an end

Caranthir and Haleth, falling in love, despite it all.

The ordinary deeds of everyday life in Lindon and Tirion, through letters. A followup to Scion of Kings.

A Fëanorian Hanukkah,

Or,

Fëanor and his seven sons: eight drabbles for eight nights.

Spending the holidays with your family is always difficult. Especially if you've disowned them.
Or, Celebrimbor discovers you can choose your own family (sometimes, it's even the people you're related to).

"It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen."

Finrod writes of love and nightingales (until all he can hear is the sound of water flowing).

Gil-Galad reflects on his heritage and pens a letter to the man he thinks (hopes?) might be his father.