#silm fanfiction

[saurongorthaur9]

Tell us more about For All His Cunning. :-)

"For All His Cunning" is a very old WIP that is very near and dear to my heart. Thanks for inquiring about it :D

It has probably be in my drafts for a over decade, and I pull it up and work on it for a little bit every once in a while when I'm struck with inspiration.

It's a 100 Theme Challenge, which don't seem to be as popular nowadays as they used to be, but I always wanted to see if I could do one. Ages ago, I ran across a 100 Theme Challenge prompt list that piqued my interest so I saved it and it became the base of this story, which is 100 moments in Sauron's life.

I've got about 18 of them fully written, and I've actually been considering beginning to post them. (Let me know if this is something people would be interested in seeing from me!)

They are all fairly short and are a little experimentory/poetic. Here's an example of one of them:

_______________________________________________________

Prompt: No Time

“What you suggest is madness!”

“You asked my advice. I have merely given you what you requested.”

“I requested results. Not this…this lunacy. An invasion? Bah, my councilors were right when they told me you were insane. I should have listened to them.”

“There is nothing keeping you from throwing me back in your dungeons.”

“I think I just might.”

“Of course, in that case it would then fall upon your councilors to provide a solution to your problem…”

“…”

“I’m trying to help you, my king.”

“Ha, no you’re not. Don’t think I’m ignorant of your ways, Deceiver. Just because I’ve taken your advice so far doesn’t mean I’m unaware that you’re using this situation to your benefit. You started out my prisoner; now you’re a high priest, a god even if you listen to the people. I’m not such a fool as to think you truly care whether I live or die.”

“I make no pretense of love and never have. Of course I’m making sure I benefit. But that does not mean we cannot mutually benefit.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure Númenór would benefit greatly from arousing the wrath of the Valar.”

“You do not give Númenór enough credit.”

“This is the Valar we’re talking about.”

“You defeated me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“My king, I was considered the greatest ruler in Middle-earth for many hundreds of years. You’ve heard the stories of how the Valar came across the sea to defeat Morgoth and overthrew him and his army. Don’t you think the Valar would have stopped me too, if they could? And your army proved greater than mine…”

“You truly think we could do it? Play me for a fool, Sauron, and I will personally see to it that you spend the next hundred years in agony.”

“The Valar want peace. They rely on their rumored authority, the fear that strikes those who hear their names, to maintain that peace. Take away the fear and you take away their power. As long as you live in fear of them, they have complete power over you.”

“Who says I’m afraid, Maia?”

“I’m not here to make subjective judgments. I only wish to provide you with a clear view of your options as I see them.”

“If I was to invade Valinor – if – and if I were to win, what would you be getting out of it?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. I dislike you very much, but I dislike the Valar far more. The army of Númenór is the first that has ever become great enough to challenge the Valar. Not even I considered it, not even Morgoth. It would give me great pleasure to see the Valar overthrown. I would rather serve you as King than Manwë.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

“I can live with your distrust. But, I wonder, how long can you live without my help.”

“…All right. You’ve made your point.”

“My mind. Your power. There has never been a combination like us, Ar-Pharazôn. The Valar will be helpless before us. Strike now and the immortality of the Blessed Realm will be yours for the taking. The Valar have made no move against you because they have no move to make. It’s all bluster, my king. Shatter their illusion of authority and there is absolutely nothing holding the race of Men back. Why do you think they made the Ban? Why do they want to keep you mortal? Because they know that unstrained, you would be a threat to them. So far their bluster has been successful, but only because no king before you has dared to press their imposed limits.”

“And you promise me that to set foot on Valinor is to gain immortality?”

“If not in the land itself, then in the power of those who keep the land. Either way, it will be yours for the taking.”

“You silver-tongued monster. You nearly have me convinced.”

“But not wholly so?”

“An invasion… And so soon… I am not convinced Númenór is yet ready. One day perhaps… Such things need time.”

“My king, what time do you think you have?”

“You dare remind me?”

“Does not each passing day remind you?”

“You know it does.”

“My king, I merely give you the facts. And the fact is that you have no time. If you do not crush the Valar now, then Time – and then Death – will crush you. The Valar can wait forever. I can wait forever. You cannot.”

“Curse you, Sauron.”

“What is your answer to my proposal?”

“We’ll do it.”

-------------------------------------------

Thanks so much for the ask!

WIP Ask Game

[leucisticpuffin]

In which Maglor cannot be trusted with money (or mechanics).

[perlen-gold]

A sillmarillion/angbang story

I knew all of this because Mairon had told me, complained to me of these things more often than I wished and, what was worse by far, even made me listen till I was fed up and bored beyond even my unyielding power. Oh, there was relentlessness in him that heeded neither my ostentatious disregard nor my sour mood whenever he pestered me with these trifles. I might have escaped, oh yes, but he would serve me thrice the tales of battlements in need of improvement, insufficient food resources and incompetent Orc armorers designing poorer battering rams when I hungered for the naked sheen of his skin.

I have always thought Mairon mercilessly vindictive beyond even my desire for revenge.

“Your army, my lord, needs attention”, he would say lilting as skittering pearls and with a tone so quizzacious I might seize his throat eventually which would make him laugh and brush the sweetest gasp against my ear.

Read from the beginning

[sillysistersusi]

Her Own Choice

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Summary: When Elrond sails to Valinor, he isn't sure how to tell Celebrían that Arwen isn't with him. So he avoids her. Luckily, Maglor is there to talk some sense into him.

"You should talk to her." Maglor said and even though Elrond was startled, he did not flinch. He had got used to having Maglor back by now. He had searched for him for years and had at last found him a week before he left for Valinor.

It hadn't taken long to persuade him to come along, but that was largely due to the fact that Elrond had left him no choice at all. Not after he had searched for his Atya for so long.

Elrond stared at the ceiling of his room, feeling incredibly young again.

They had only arrived in Valinor a few days ago, but instead of visiting relatives and friends like everyone else, Elrond had hidden himself away and hadn't seen the light for two days.

Because he was afraid. What should he tell Celebrían? After everything that had happened, she had certainly not expected Elrond to be incapable enough to not persuade Arwen to come to Valinor. He simply did not know how to make his wonderful wife, who had already been through so much, realise that she would never see her only daughter again.

But instead of giving a voice to all these feelings and explaining them to Maglor, he simply turned on his side, away from his father. For Elrond was sure that Maglor knew what he was feeling anyway. He was Maglor and he knew Elrond better than most.

He heard his Atya sigh. "Look, I know you blame yourself, but you did not do anything wrong." Maglor sat down beside him and began stroking his hair. "Arwen is happy and that is what really counts. Just like Estel being happy. If they need each other for their happiness and want to be mortal, then you cannot blame Arwen."

"I don't at all, Atya." Elrond said quietly. "Arwen has chosen mortality for more than just love. I have spoken to her at length and her reasons have made me very- " He swallowed hard and Maglor sucked in his breath sharply, for he knew what was to come. "Her reasons reminded me a lot of Elros."

"Finding out that one of my beautiful children is mortal was hard," Maglor admitted quietly, "but it was his choice, and my feelings would never stand in the way of his happiness. And from what you've told me about Celebrían, I do not think she feels any differently."

"Galadriel has probably already told her," Elrond said, rubbing his eyes. "But what- "

The problem was that Elrond did not know 'what'. He was afraid, yes, but especially-

Maglor realised it at the same moment, for he whispered, "You have not forgiven yourself."

Elrond pressed his lips together to stifle a sob but even then, no tears came. "If she is angry or disappointed- I - I do not know what I would do then, Atya."

Maglor's hand stopped briefly in his hair. "Yonya, if what you told me about her is true, then she won't blame you. Especially since it is not your fault."

Elrond turned slightly towards him and just looked at Maglor for a while, unable to believe that he was really there.

His thoughts briefly wandered to everything Celebrían and he had been through. Together.

"Maybe you're right. I - I go, in a few days - "

But Maglor shook his head. "I know you, Elrond. Do not put this off, or it will only make you more upset."

He wrapped an arm around Elrond and gently pulled him into a sitting position. "You can do this, Yonya. I know you can." Then he placed a hand on Elrond's chest, just above his heart. "And I'm sure deep inside you, you know you can, too."

~•~

Celebrían was even prettier than he remembered her. A memory was only ever half as good.

Her hair glittered in the sunlight as if it was made of precious jewels and her eyes were so full of love that Elrond wasn't sure if he hadn't just fallen in love with her all over again.

"Dearest Elrond," she said joyfully when she saw him, tears of joy welling up in her beautiful eyes.

He wanted to answer, so much, but a lump had formed in his throat. She would lose her joy if he told her that he hadn't managed to bring Arwen with him.

Or perhaps she already knew, and her joy at seeing him would be short-lived and would soon turn to disappointment.

Elrond felt his knees trembling and he looked around desperately for something to hold on to. But it was in vain, for they were in a meadow, far away from buildings or trees that could have served as support.

The last time he had felt so helpless was when Maglor and Maedhros had sent Elros and him away.

Without being able to prevent it, he sank to his knees before Celebrían had reached him. She stopped just right before him, arms outstretched, and it apparently took her a few seconds to realise what had happened.

She blurred before his eyes as he whispered softly, "I am so sorry." And finally all the tears that he had been holding back since he left Minas Tirith ran down his cheeks. His chest had always felt so tight, as if something had been trying to escape from it. He had lain awake at night because every fibre of his body seemed to worry.

He felt a hand under his chin, trying to get him to look up. He followed the movement and blinked away his tears as best he could.

Celebrían looked sad, but not in the way he had expected. "What are you apologising for?"

"Arwen." he said quietly, barely managing to hold her gaze as he said it.

Celebrían also sank to the ground and took his face in her hands. "It is not your fault. It is no one's fault that she made her own decision."

"But- " He sniffled and involuntarily pressed his face harder against her palms. "But I promised you I'd look after our children."

"But you did," she said softly, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. "Arwen chose her own happiness. You would only have hurt her if you had forced her to come with you. And I think you know that."

Yes, he knew it. He had always known it. From the moment the fellowship had set out from Rivendell, he had known it. Deep down, he had probably always known, but it still made him so sad. Of course he was happy that his daughter was happy. But being happy for her and actually feeling happy were just such different things. Being happy for her and knowing that he would never be happy with her again was so hard for him to understand at times that he preferred to bury himself in self-pity.

"I miss her, Elrond," Celebrían whispered. "But I am happy that she has found and chosen her own path."

Elrond nodded, unable to say anything because he was sure that if he opened his mouth, all that would come out would be a sob.

Celebrían leant forward a little so that Elrond's head was soon resting on her shoulder and she could wrap her arms tightly around him. "I do not blame you, because it is not your fault. You acted in Arwen's best interests and I do not see how that could be a mistake."

Elrond sobbed quietly and clung to Celebrían. "I love you so much," he whispered softly.

"Oh, I love you too, dearest." She kissed his hair. "I love you too."

[dalliansss]

“How is my agenda for the next two weeks?” Fingon asks.

“Urgent, Your Majesty. I am afraid I cannot have enough flexibility on the schedules.”

A sigh from the High King’s lips. He picks up the parchment again and hands it to his chamberlain, who takes it and scans the contents of the Lord Maedhros’s letter. 

“This is dangerous,” Vorosanya says after returning the document. “If only King Felagund will be going east to represent the western realms. You must send a representative, Your Majesty. Else Hithlum might again be left behind.”

There is a soft, amused chuckle from Fingon. “In times like these it strikes me how clever Maedhros was,” he tells Vorosanya. “He gave up the High Kingship, but look at this, Voro… he took his brothers east, put Caranthir in charge of Thargelion which controls all the dwarven roads into Beleriand.” A thoughtful silence. “And then, of course, through his brothers Curufin and Celegorm, who are currently in Nargothrond, he has a foothold in that kingdom too, wherever it is. Can you see the simplicity of it, Voro? Can you see why Maedhros tolerates Curufin and Finrod?”

“He might not have the crown anymore, but he has the purses of the Noldor,” says Vorosanya, and Fingon thinks it cannot be put any more succinctly than that.

Fingon tsks. “If only my Atar–.” But it is useless, isn’t it, to linger on the dead, and on their what-ifs. Another sigh escapes Fingon, and this sounds more frustrated than the last. “And here I am, incapacitated in Hithlum, while Caranthir, Finrod and Maedhros are free to shape the fortunes of the Noldor, so to speak. High Kingship is an empty title, most of the time.” A pause. “Voro, see to it that you move my agenda to accommodate a trip. Even if I have to take the court with me.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

[a hollow crown / AO3]

[curiouselleth]

Hi! From the prompt list you reblogged... could I convince you to write me a lil thing of “Sometimes I feel like there is a weight on my chest that takes away all my breath.” with Finrod, perhaps? (maybe re-embodied Finrod in Valinor, if you feel like indulging me on a more specific request?)

Hello!! I wish I could of told you before, I did not forget and I did write something, it just took a while.

Here it is, I hope you enjoy it!! I am quite proud of it.

[myfavouritelunatic]

WIP Ping-Pong!

Finally getting around to continuing this game! Thank you so much for the tags @cliffdivingsblog @pursuitseternal @90shaladriel and @somebirdortheother ❤️❤️❤️

Here's a little something from my Halloween Haladriel story, titled 'And Horror and Madness Walked':

Once surrounded by the vibrant green beech trees, Melian began to question the troubled elf. “I fear for you, Galadriel. I wish you would tell me that which plagues you so. What is at work?” “I do not know. I’m starting to feel like I exist only in the shade. That even as the sunlight tickles my skin now, it cannot penetrate the great shadow that has been cast upon me.” “It is your dreams, is it not? That is the catalyst for your unending sorrow?” “They are nightmares of the like I have never seen. And they are so real.” “Real? Do you mean to speak of foresight?” “I pray it is not that. But there must be a reason I keep seeing the same things, feeling the same sense of dread.” “Perhaps. I would ask that you remain awake, if you can. For as long as you can.” “Melian, I have tried! Of course I have tried! No matter any effort on my part… slumber covers me like the shadow does now… it brings me down into it. I have no choice but to succumb. It is why I come to Neldoreth, to Region. To tether myself back to the light. It is the only thing that offers me any solace.” “And you did not seek to find solace in me. That, my friend, is the scariest notion of all.”

Tagging, no pressure: @cliffdivingsblog @pursuitseternal @90shaladriel @somebirdortheother (getting y'all back :P) @scriberated @youwearfinethingswellwriter @coraleethroughthelookingglass @ichabodjane @heronamedhawks @gil-galadhwen @theriverwild @thrillofhope @klynnvakarian @demonscantgothere @marimosalad ❤️

[potatoobsessed999]

Three years ago, Cousin Maedhros was swallowed by a maw-mouth during graduation. And of course that was that. Nothing to do but mourn.

-

Here, have a Silmarillion-Scholomance crossover drabble! In which Maedhros has a bad time, Galadriel very sensibly accepts reality, and Fingon Rushes In.

[saurongorthaur9]

Well, I just finished the rough draft of Chapter 28 of "Gorthauro Estel" which came out to 16,300 words, officially making it the longest chapter of GE that I've written so far. I'm going to work on the editing next week and am currently shooting at getting it out by the end of next week. In the meantime, here's another brief snippet.

--------------------------------------------

Estë spoke up in her gentle voice. “I know it may seem that punishment is the most obvious choice to curtail Sauron’s behavior,” she said, “but it is not necessarily the case in the long run. Punishment may only embitter Sauron, bringing with it no true healing, while genuine healing will bring with it true peace.”

 “That is true, Estë,” Tulkas said, “but is it not also true that sometimes a wound must be cauterized before it can be cleansed and healed? The right punishment may be the jolt he needs before any healing can take place.”

“Or a punishment may be as the souring of a wound, which left to fester will cause only harm and will cause his spirit to sicken,” Estë responded firmly, not allowing Tulkas to intimidate her.

Námo let his gaze sweep the Ring. “Does anyone have anything more to add, either for or against a punishment?” he asked.

“If we punish him, I fear he will never trust us again,” Aulë said, his voice taking on almost a pleading tone. “We have granted him mercy once already, and though it costs us little to grant him mercy once again, for him it may be the tipping point between hope and despair.”

“We granted him mercy which he has already betrayed,” Yavanna responded in a low voice. “Our mercy to Morgoth gave way to all the sorrows of the First Age. Will our mercy to Sauron be the birth of sorrows untold for this Second Age?”

Námo closed his eyes. “The arguments have been made. Now, I will hold council with myself and come to the final decision of this council.”

This time, he shed his fána entirely, and his unclothed spirit rose from the Ring and turned west, facing towards his own Halls and the edge of the World. It was easier to think without the needs and sensations of a body pulling at him, and here he could sink entirely into himself without being disturbed.

There, he pondered all that he had heard in the Ring and all that his own spirit whispered quietly to himself, his mind in a turmoil that he had only rarely felt until now.

-------------------------------------------------

Can't wait to share the whole thing with you all!

[leucisticpuffin]

In which Elrond and Elros have some visitors.

[perlen-gold]

Come

It's my first time participating in @fall-for-tolkien's Scribbles & Drabbles I'm very happy (though slightly embarrassed on behalf of the word count) to have finished this for angbaddies lovely piece of art! Thank you very much for committing it @saintstars I was ever so happy to find a still unclaimed angbang piece!

Please, guys, check it out!!!

Am I utterly unfit to participate in anything with a deadline or word count restriction? Absolutely. Will I get better at this? Absolutely no. I'm afraid I'm too old for a fundamental change in my personality now.

Please, if you're not into angbang or reading my long stuff, consider checking out the other artist's and writer's lovely works related to this great event, I swear most of them are much shorter and less inordinate than this (I think).

Enough talk, if you're still here you had better run now!

“Come.”

They call me Great Death, the Constrainer. Black Foe of the World, Master of Lies. They say I am merciless and proud, atrocious, barbarous, brutal and ruthless, abominable and terrible to behold, wicked and vicious.

They are not wrong.

 “Come,” I whisper, my voice a phantom of its earth-cracking thunder tracing across his heated stone-skin.

I imagine him adorned lightly. Onyx-black, ink-soft lace balming his skin. A hue of jewelry, the rings he so likes, fragrant with flawless gold.

Undone, the scarlet-crimsoned whisper of his hair, embellishing the tickling bed sheets about him, breathing with a faint warm glow, loose, unbound, free.

Instead, iron and steel.

Rather, all I feel it is the blunt taste of metal humming beneath my fingertips. Winter-gray and silver-cool.

Never have I hissed at the melody of cutting cold as he, freezing snow and whirling ice. Now, as I envision him in soft-light fiber and warmth-glowing fabric, I nearly do.

Instead, I touch upon the spiral shell of Mairon’s armor, inch by inch.

Enough work.

I almost say it.

I feel Mairon tense the moment the words soar upon my tongue. I think his bruises, sprains and scars, so carefully withheld beneath his armor, coil.

My own injuries are throbbing as the mountain’s heart pulsates.

On the tip of my tongue I finger two different syllables, then. I taste them, long and probing. They are not familiar between my lips.

Instead, I murmur, “Come.”

Then try, taste, whisper.

“Please.”

Keep Reading on AO3

[sillysistersusi]

And even though you're scared, You're stronger than you know

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Maeglin & Turgon

Summary: After drinking to much at a party, Maeglin tells Turgon that he feels like no one loves him.

Warnings: alcohol, vomiting, crying

This is Part 1 of 2, no idea when Part 2 is going to be out.

A/N: Title is from "Something Wild" by Lindsey Stirling.

Turgon already regretted persuading Maeglin to come along to one of the parties organised by the other Lords of Gondolin. But what else could he do? His nephew was causing him serious concern. He was completely isolated from the others and had difficulty making friends.

But he wasn't surprised, after all Maeglin was a stranger in a city where everyone seemed to know everyone else, and after what had happened to Aredhel and what Eöl had said before Turgon threw him into the depths, Maeglin naturally found it even harder to make friends.

And that was why Turgon had persuaded him to go.

That the evening would end with Glorfindel telling a funny story in which Aredhel was mentioned in passing, whereupon Maeglin began to cry, for he was very VERY drunk, and threw up all over himself, wasn't something Turgon could have predicted.

Glorfindel had tried to calm him down, but in the end Turgon had decided to take Maeglin, who could barely walk straight anymore, to his room before he attracted the attention of the others and they had one more reason to find him strange. Turgon was just glad that it had been Glorfindel with whom it had happened, because he knew that Glorfindel would only tell others as soon as he knew whether it was really okay for Maeglin. For as much as Turgon appreciated some of the other lords, he knew they probably wouldn't keep their mouths shut.

One of Maeglin's arms hung over Turgon's shoulder, the other just hung there at his side. Maeglin was still crying and his face was an absolute mess of tears, snot and vomit. Turgon knew this was his fault. He should have paid more attention to what Glorfindel, who had immediately started a conversation with Maeglin, was giving him to drink in the first place. He knew, of course, that Glorfindel had only meant well, but that didn't change the fact that Maeglin would certainly be feeling really bad the next day.

"It is all right," Turgons whispered gently, who had never seen his nephew so upset. Maeglin usually hid his feelings very well. The only time he had ever seen him cry was at Aredhel's funeral.

"I miss Nana." Maeglin whispered and sniffled, sounding like a much younger child and not like an elf who was almost grown up.

Turgon sighed heavily. "Me too, my boy, me too."

They had finally arrived at Maeglin's room and Turgon somehow managed to hold Maeglin, push the door handle down with his foot and push the door open. Too bad Idril hadn't seen that, she would have found it amusing.

Turgon helped Maeglin over to his bed and carefully sat him down on the edge. And even though Maeglin should probably take a bath, Turgon was slightly afraid that he might accidentally drown himself in this state if Turgon wasn't looking closely, so he decided not to risk it.

So he took a wet cloth and gently wiped Maeglin's face with it.

"I- I miss- " Maeglin sniffled, and Turgon was actually impressed by how clear his words still sounded, even though he had drunk so much. "I miss Ada too," Maeglin sobbed, and Turgon's hand stopped in mid-motion. "I know I shouldn't miss him, but- " Maeglin's voice died.

Turgon took a deep breath, which he immediately regretted as the acrid smell of vomit rose to his nose, then he continued to clean Maeglin's face.

It reminded him of how young he still was. Turgon had already seen how much it had affected Idril to grow up almost completely without Elenwë, but he didn't want to imagine how bad it was to be in a strange place without any parents at all.

He had never realised that Maeglin missed Eöl too, otherwise he would surely have tried to talk to him about it somehow. To show Maeglin that he was safe with him and could tell him anything.

"He was your father," Turgon said, hoping that Maeglin could understand him. "Of course you miss him, that is quite normal."

Apparently he could still understand him, because he said, "But he was evil."

Turgon's blood froze a little at these words. For sure, Eöl had killed Aredhel and that had indeed been 'evil', but he couldn't shake the feeling that Maeglin wasn't referring to his mother's death.

"I think I just miss having someone." Maeglin continued to murmur, his eyes now half closed. "I miss- miss the idea- " he hiccupped. "The idea of what I- what I wish my father could have been."

Turgon put the now dirty cloth aside and briefly stroked Maeglin's hair gently. That had always helped whenever Elenwë and Idril were sad.

He stood up and walked over to the wardrobe and took out some of Maeglin's sleeping clothes.

"Itarillë is really lucky that you are her father," he whispered weakly.

Turgon came back to him, put the sleeping clothes on the bed next to Maeglin and started to carefully help him out of his top, which was still full of vomit. "Why? Because that makes her the direct princess of Gondolin?"

Maeglin shook his head, but apparently a little too vigorously than he should have, because he squinted his eyes briefly in pain before saying, "She is lucky because you love her. Nana was the only one who loved me." Tears welled up in his eyes again. "And I- I- it is my fault that she- that she is no longer here!"

Turgon hung the dirty top over a chair in the corner and set about dressing Maeglin in his sleeping top. When he had finished, he pulled him to his feet and changed his trousers. Then he carefully pulled his shoes off his feet.

It had been important for him to make sure Maeglin was comfortable before he took any further steps.

He carefully put an arm around Maeglin and pulled him slightly towards him. "It is not your fault. Her love protected you, she did it willingly."

Maeglin let his head fall weakly against Turgon's shoulder.

"And I love you too, Lómion." Turgon whispered softly and began stroking his back in a circular motion.

The next time he looked at Maeglin, his eyes were closed. Turgon smiled gently. This evening had clearly been too much for his young nephew.

He carefully laid Maeglin down and placed the heavy duvet over him. He pulled it in tight all over so that Maeglin wouldn't kick it off in his sleep and get cold.

Just as Turgon was about to leave, immediately after giving the top full of vomit to a servant to get it cleaned, Maeglin groaned and whispered barely audibly: "I wish you could love me as if you really were my father."

Turgon's hand remained on the door handle for a few moments as he watched Maeglin weep softly and toss and turn in discomfort. Then he sighed, took the chair and pulled it towards Maeglin's bed.

Maeglin's eyes were tightly closed and a few tears were running down his cheeks. Carefully, Turgon reached out and began stroking Maeglin's hair again. He didn't really expect a reaction, so he was surprised when Maeglin relaxed almost immediately and leaned into Turgon's hand.

Turgon leant forward and kissed him gently on the temple. "Do not worry, I will stay here and watch over you, just like your mother cannot anymore and your father never did."

[oakenting]

Last Line Game

Rules: in a new post, show the last line(s) you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Tagged by: @tathrin (Thanks, and I'm guessing Frodo)

Maeglin's head was full of ideas. And for the first time since he came to Gondolin he started to make plans for his life which were more substantial than marry the princess.

It's from the only WIP I have at the moment and I haven't touched it since December. The structure stands but I think I need more scenes than I originally had planned to make it cohesive. Maybe it's been cooking in the back of my mind long enough to get to writing again.

Tagging (if you feel like doing it): @thatonetimetraveller, @niennawept, @cilil (and I don't think I know anymore writers that I have interacted with enough to feel comfortable tagging)

[dalliansss]

“Look.”

A gesture from the úmaia. Just inside, easily seen near some bellows, is a mannequin clad in black armor complete with a deep scarlet cape.

Unknown dark metal and mithril melded into a yet unnamed alloy, detailed with motifs of snakes and eyes. The helm covers the face entirely except for the eyes, and it even has deadly spikes of black specifically arranged into a crown. On a table nearby are two sheathed swords in the Eldarin shape and design.

“I told you you need armor, Finrod,” says Mairon. “I have not forged armor in literal Ages. Yet for you I have. This is a gift. The culmination of mine…armor craft. While you wear it, nothing can possibly harm you, save other Ainur. Or a very dextrous stroke, with an equally very thin ax blade.”

“A deceit as well,” Finrod murmurs. “It is akin to your own armor, save for the cape and the details of the helm and chest plate, I think. When I am in battle I will be thought of as you. Unless my opponents have time to take a closer look.”

Mairon smiles, a smile that is all teeth, the mouth too wide.

“ Precisely .”

[and treachery takes root — Chapter 2 on ao3]

@skaelds

[curiouselleth]

🍃✨📘Fanfiction Directory📘✨🍃

General Silmarillion fanfics, oldest to newest

Be He Foe or Friend (ao3),

A Silmarillion choose your own adventure book!!! Post about it. This is my biggest project (semi) in progress, though it's been a while since I've worked on it.

Unable to See the Starlight (ao3) (tumblr)

A short memoir of a elf who lived through the darkening of Valinor. Completed.

Veil of Starlight (ao3) (tumblr)

Elured is Gil-galad AU. 3 random snippets: [1] [2] [3]* In progress. *Snippets listed in order posted, not order they happen in the story, which is 3, 2, 1.

How Can We Heal? (ao3) (tumblr)

A different take on the Halls of Mandos, and Finrod's experiences there. In progress.

What We Became (ao3) (tumblr)

The blood of Sauron's wolves unravels minds. Sauron decides to experiment with the little king who dared to challenge him. In progress.

The Taming and Domestication of Crablor (ao3)

Four short, silly scenes primarily featuring Elladan, Elrohir, and Crablor. The capture, then a few scenes of the twins, Celeborn, Legolas, Gimli, and Crablor sailing to Valinor. Completed.

Roots and Berries (ao3)

Finrod struggles to adjust to re embodiment in the gardens. Completed.

Feanor Fades (ao3)

Feanor has finished the last Silmaril. But he put too much of himself into them. Far too much. Tentatively still in progress. Can stand as one chapter, but I've played with continuing it.

Sons of Nerdanel (ao3) (tumblr)

Nerdanel’s first project after each of her sons were born was a statue of them. As her sons changed and grew, so did the statues. Even as they left her and ventured across the sea. Even as they do deeds which shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda. Completed.

Bedlam in Beleriand D&D campaign fanfics

These fics are based off a D&D campaign I run. Some are "canon" to the campaign, and some are speculative or a way for me to play with ideas. (Speculative ones will be listed as such.)

Campaign premise: Gandalf gathered a group of 15 adventurers in the 3rd age, and sent them back to the 1st age to try to save lives and generally help. The party arrives a year after the Bragollach. @bedlam-in-beleriand is my sideblog for the campaign, and will hopefully have session summaries someday! In the meantime there is art, some memes, and the pinned post has a list of PCs!

These are roughly in campaign chronological order.

True This Time (ao3) Co-authored by @anna-dreamer

Trevadriel speaks to Maedhros the morning after reuniting with Finrod, then speaks to Finrod and they work to mend things. Takes place immediately after session 9. Chapter 1 is Trevadriel and Maedhros, then chapter 2 is the same with ooc commentary, then chapter 3 and 4 is Trevadriel and Finrod, and chapters 5 and 6 are the same with ooc commentary. Complete.

A Prayer and Possible Panic (ao3)

Orome just received a prayer from a Noldo. In Beleriand. In the first age. When the ban is very active. So he's gone to the know-it-all Vala for help. This is a response of sorts to Commune by @anna-dreamer Complete.

The Changes of Tyelko and Little Finno (ao3)

Celegorm decides to focus on Finrod's wine instead of some unpleasant memories of what once had come to pass. Finrod joins him, bothers him, and generally interferes. Complete.

Letter of Love and Longing (ao3) Co-authored by @anna-dreamer

Trevadriel reaches out to the West for aid. And most of all, for one she loves. In progress.

Her voice such love and longing filled (ao3) Co-authored by @anna-dreamer

Trevadriel feels Finrod's nightmare through their bond, and finds she can enter it. In progress.

Can't Change the Steps (ao3) (Speculative, not campaign canon!)

In a dance with death, you can't change the steps. But others can join the dance. The time travelers have saved Finrod Felagund from his fated death. Now they have sought to change the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and to save Fingon. But things do not go as planned, and he finds himself alone on the battlefield, engaging in a desperate dance, and trying to use what they have told him to survive. Complete.

[cuntypurpledragon]

I did a thing

wattpad fics from teen girls in pre-darkening Valinor entitled "my mother has sold me to Prince Makalaure Feanorion"