#silm drabble

[naarisz]

I drew Turgon as my second piece for @fall-for-tolkien 's Scribbles and Drabbles 2024 event. :)

[leucisticpuffin]

It is not yet dawn when they break camp – so much as "dawn" means these days, when the northern skies are ever black with smoke and orcs roam freely in the wilds of broken Beleriand. There are few places left free of the Enemy's taint. Yet the smoke cannot cover all light; the rim of the sky is blushed pink, and the new star rises in the West.

Maglor looks to the light, as the children do: all three fall quiet. But Maedhros walks ahead, his hand on his sword-hilt, and sees nothing but the dark and treacherous path ahead.

For @maedhrosmaglorweek, Day 5: New Horizons

[cilil]

Eönwë Week - Day 1: Genesis

𓅛 Characters: Eönwë, Manwë & Eru 𓅛 Synopsis: The first of the Maiar awakens. 𓅛 Warnings: / 𓅛 Triple drabble

He comes into existence with one timid note of song, akin to a gasp of breath, and the first thing he senses is that he's held by a mighty presence and watched by others, like him but bigger. 

The young spirit curls in on himself, frightened.

"Behold the first of the Maiar." 

The others draw closer now, reaching out to make themselves known. He avoids them at first, until suddenly he senses one who feels familiar. 

They are... alike, this older spirit and he. 

"Father," a voice exclaims then, "Father, I sense that he shares my element. Will he be like me?"

"In a way, yes," the presence — Father — says. "The Maiar shall be the younger of the Ainur, smaller in stature and sharing the elements and domains of you, the Valar. Your task will be to teach and guide them, and their task will be to learn and serve."

Father brings him closer to the older spirit, and he finally uncurls just enough to see. Yes, that one is less frightening; his spirit feels warm, kind and gentle like a summer breeze, though the newborn Maia doesn't know yet what it means. 

He reaches out, just one tiny, trembling tendril of spirit, and is pulled closer. It's comfortable around this Vala, he thinks happily; in the future he will remember this moment being akin to a baby bird hiding in its parent's plumage. 

"What is his name, Father?" 

"He will be swift and he will be steadfast, strong like the mightiest of your creatures, yet gentle at heart, like you. He will dutifully carry your messages and fiercely defend those he holds dear." 

Father pauses. Then — 

"His name shall be Eönwë."

"Hello, little Eönwë," the Vala coos, delighted. "I am called Manwë."

And Eönwë has loved him ever since. 

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot

@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @eonweweek

[welcomingdisaster]

There is no record of all the company that had followed Maedhros the Tall to his meeting with the emissaries of Morgoth, though it is said they were sixty in number. Careful record-keeping had been abandoned then by the parties in Beleriand, and would not picked up again until Fingolfin’s reign. It is said, however, that the eldest among the party were Filitar and Etilo, twin craftsmen and friends of Finwë on his journey, and that the youngest was Isilpio, Maedhros’ cupbearer, who was at the time of his death only forty-three. The boy is well-remembered, as Maedhros wrote of him several times after freedom from captivity, and named in his honor a grove fruit trees near his holdings in Himring. 

 Only two women are traditionally counted among the party; Arehen, who had once been a healer under Estë, and Lísien, among the first of the shield-maidens of old. It came into fashion, in ages since, to paint the them together, at times embracing in the moment before death, or else as a study in contrasts. But in all likelihood they little knew each other, and would have been positioned at different points of the then common battle formation. 

[cclumsyart]

Finrod in Helcaraxë

For Scribbles & Drabbles 2023 - @fall-for-tolkien

[elennalore]

A meeting in moonlight. Celebrimbor/Annatar. Or Celebrimbor/Mairon if this scene happens post-canon (it could!)

My art for @fall-for-tolkien Scribbles & Drabbles 2024.

[nighttimepatrons]

my art for @fall-for-tolkien's scribbles & drabbles

Maglor walking down the coast. Graphite and digital. I had fun working on this piece and hopefully I can do this again next year :) and that it will be less anxiety inducing lol

[gardensofthemoon]

Epicedium

Only ashes know of how it is to burn like Fëanáro. Scorching heat that sears untamed through blood and flesh and bone alike. And mortal vessels can’t elude the siren-song, the deathly pull, the call of fire.

So bear down gently, smoke and ash, and kiss with ghostly lips the grieving faces of your sons. As gems and glory matter not when faced with pain and mad despair. Now see, now cry, now scream, now beg, now mourn the faith of those who followed. Your house of blood, your house of chains. Your oath in vain shall doom your name.

Fëanorian Week 2024 - Day 7: Fëanor @feanorianweek

[ela-draws]

Aredhel on the Road

Submitted for Scribbles & Drabbles 2023 @fall-for-tolkien

[halfelven]

Celebrían falls asleep in Elrond’s arms, and it is not a dream. It is just a field of heather, just purple flowers underneath a blue sky. There is a slight wind that carries the scent of birch trees, and the sun is high and white above them. It is not another lifetime; it is just a field and the wind and the sky. Everything real, everything here—her hair falling silver across her face, her hand resting on his knee. There is a rock sharp beneath his leg, and he is glad, for in a dream it would not hurt.

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

Writing Patterns: Final Lines

Thanks for tagging me in this @polutrope <3

Here are ten final lines from my latest ten fics.

None moves.

A Tale That Wasn't Right (2408 words, M, Finwe, Maedhros/Fingon)

2. But for now, he stays.

Purification (1160 words, E, Maedhros/Thingol)

3. Caranthir closed his eyes and took Finrod’s hand, and he did it gently.

White Daffodil (3993 words, T, Caranthir/Finrod)

4. “All is well,” he repeats.

To Evil End (2883 words, T, Maedhros/Fingon + other Feanorians)

5. Swaddled in the blaze of Maedhros's arms, buried under the firestorm of his body, encased in the molten metal of his fëa as Maedhros moves within him, Fingon is warm, Fingon is safe, Fingon is loved.

Kaleidoscope (1436 words, E, Fingon/Sons of Feanor)

6. Fingon sat by his side, his hand hovering over the dagger but never touching it.

Fingolfin and Maedhros speak to Fingon (1812 words, T, Fingolfin & Fingon, Maedhros & Fingon)

7. But if you wish to know me as I am now and for me to know you as you are, on the first day of each month, look for me at the grove at what was once the hour of Mingling.

Now a Quill, Now a Sword (11817 words, T, Maedhros/Fingon)

8. Maglor closed her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, decided against escaping.

Lady Makalaurë Fëanáriel Dying of Poison, Late Second Age, Artist Unknown (8671 words, T, fem!Maglor/Wife)

9. Maedhros snorted and tossed the last bit of the apple into his mouth.

Cheerful Cannibalism Ficlet (247 words, Maedhros & Fingon)

10. Maitimo smirked at him, closed his eyes and kissed Káno.

Proxy (5912 wrods, E, Maedhros/Fingon, Maedhros/Maglor)

What do we observe? Well, first of all, I'm incredibly slow because I wrote only ten fics in almost two years. As for endings, I do like to end the fic abruptly, leaving some things undecided or uncertain. Especially in shorter fics. I do try to wrap up longer fics in a more definite way.

Anyway, tagging @melestasflight, @thescrapwitch, @ermingarden, @welcomingdisaster, @that-angry-noldo

[naarisz]

A little drawing, I made of Thuringwethil and Sauron for @fall-for-tolkien 's Scribbles & Drabbles 2024 event! :)

[gwaedhannen]

Dispossessed

They don’t drift apart so much as never coagulate again.

Celegorm vanishes into the deep woods as hastily as he can manage, before the shock of his Return (“Him first? Of all of them!?”) fully ebbs; if the hounds of Oromë howl in strange voices, they have always been a little wild.

Caranthir builds a house on a quiet hillside, and counts naught but the stitches in his tapestries; he has not ceased to weave since with the first thread he closed his harsh mouth for ever.

Curufin lifts a hammer once—and sees only shattered fingers upon the anvil.

Maedhros lies at the feet of Mercy Undeserved until he remembers how to cry again, then dons a dark veil of his own, padding through the halls of Fui to lend what tears he may, unnumbered as they are.

Ambarussa are never seen again—not directly; a lick of flame, trembling leaves, a fox’s scream; at the edge of perception, copper entwines with fate, glimmering beyond reach.

Maglor returns with pride tempered but unquenched, with a tongue tired of laments, with many deeds of selfless kindness ready for praise, with expectations—and finds ashes, and a land long moved on.

Edit: now on AO3 with some slight changes: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53245837

[cilil]

Summer Stories

AN: Have one Angbang for the gang!

Prompt: Ice | Melkor x Mairon Synopsis: As the dark lords enjoy a relaxing summer day, Melkor shares a cold treat with Mairon. Warnings: /

"Not even a spoonful?" Melkor purrs. 

The Lord of Darkness is sitting on a lounger, watching the werewolf pups play in the grass. In one hand he holds a spoon of ice cream, scooped from the sundae he's been consuming, and his other arm is wrapped around his beloved who clings to him as if the summer sun isn't warm enough. 

Mairon purses his lips. 

"It's chocolate," Melkor tempts him. 

"It's cold."

"It will melt."

Graciously, Mairon accepts the treat at last, and it sizzles on his lips and tongue. 

Smiling, Melkor leans in and steals a kiss in turn. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose

@elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-big-tits

@melkors-defense-attorney @numenhore @sauron-kraut @stormchaser819

@urwendii @wandererindreams

[furious-haste-of-malice]

rare pair bingo

⸙ Prompt: Fuck or die | Fingolfin x Maglor ⸙ Synopsis: After Maglor's misadventure on the forbidden meadows of Vána leads to him inhaling too much spring pollen, he goes to Fingolfin for help. ⸙ Warnings: Smut, incest (uncle/nephew), strong sex pollen ⸙ Quintuple drabble | AO3

"Uncle..." 

The voice that calls out to him from the undergrowth is weak and trembling, but Nolofinwë recognises it almost immediately. 

"Makalaurë!" he exclaims and steps closer. His nephew has been missing for hours, and of course he didn't hesitate to join the search when he learned of his disappearance. 

"Uncle Nolo, please..." 

Nolofinwë finds Makalaurë curled up on the ground, half-hidden in a bush, and looking up at him with a dazed expression. Before he can ask what happened, he sees the redness of his cheeks, the sweat making his entire body shimmer, the faint traces of golden dust on his cheeks, neck and chest, and realisation strikes. 

"You didn't go to Lady Vána's forbidden meadows, did you?" Nolofinwë asks, alarmed, and kneels next to his nephew. 

"I-I..." 

His worst suspicions are confirmed when he hears Makalaurë's heavy breathing and watches his legs fall apart to reveal an incriminating bulge and growing wet spots between his legs. 

"Help me, please..." 

Nolofinwë closes his eyes for a brief moment. He knows what happened and he knows what it means. Makalaurë must have snuck in and come across Vána's famously dangerous spring pollen, an aphrodisiac powerful enough to incapacitate even the mighty lords of the Valar — too powerful for an Elf. 

His nephew needs help, and unfortunately a cup of tea and blanket won't do. No, this condition requires a more hands-on approach, for it won't release him from its clutches until its purpose has been fulfilled.

"I didn't know... where else to go..." Makalaurë confesses timidly and spreads his legs more. "Please..." 

"You want me to do it?" Nolofinwë asks and strokes his hair. Guilt has already taken hold of him, but he can't deny that the young prince is completely and utterly beautiful like this. 

Makalaurë nods. 

Nolofinwë sends a swift prayer to whichever higher power will hear him, begging to be forgiven for what he's about to do, and leans in to kiss his forehead. "Then I will." 

Gentle but determined, he unlaces Makalaurë's breeches and pulls them down all the way to his boots, then lifts his legs and pushes them back against his chest. He has to have inhaled a good amount of pollen, Nolofinwë thinks as he finds his entrance swollen, wet and dripping, desperately begging for his attention. 

"Relax. It will all be over soon," he promises while freeing his own cock. 

He, too, is already hard. It's wrong and embarrassing and Nolofinwë hates himself for it, but his body seems to have made its decision before his mind. 

Thankfully, Makalaurë doesn't seem to mind. He glances at his erection, visibly eager, and shifts his hips to entice him. "Please..." 

"Ssshhht..." 

Nolofinwë kisses him again, on the lips this time, then covers his mouth with one hand as he slowly pushes inside the prince. Nobody can witness this, nobody can ever know. 

Makalaurë moans into his hand, his tight flesh feels amazing around him, and Nolofinwë hates that it makes his cock twitch excitedly. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Scribbles and Drabbles Sign-up (Part 2)

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