#silm fanfiction

[leucisticpuffin]

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

[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.

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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 f��na 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.

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

[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.

[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)

[leucisticpuffin]

In which Elrond and Elros have some visitors.

[saurongorthaur9]

I'm working away at Chapter 29 of "Gorthauro Estel". Here's a little preview for those who might be interested.

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After a few minutes, he heard Aulë’s raised voice suddenly from the far side of the platform. He lifted his head just enough to surreptitiously observe what was happening.

Aulë stood in front of Yavanna, the two Valar almost nose-to-nose. Anger and hostility crackled in the air around them, and both of them were drawn up and tense. It was very clear that some type of fierce argument was raging between them, though Sauron could not catch the words.

Yavanna made some sharp retort, her skin flushing brown with rough bark, but whatever it was that she said, it was apparently the breaking point for Aulë. His voice rose again, this time loud enough that Sauron and probably half of the occupants of the town plaza could hear.

“The other Valar may choose to turn a blind eye to what you’ve become, but I know! I know what you did, Yavanna. And if you think I’m going to leave you here with him for one second, then you are very mistaken!”

Yavanna hissed something at him to which he responded even louder. “It’s your choice, Yavanna. You can come back with me now, or you can come back later to find every door in my Halls locked against you!” With that, he turned and stormed out of the plaza, and a tremor shot through the ground, causing the buildings surrounding the square to rattle.

For a second, Yavanna seemed frozen in pure shock. Then angry bark flared across every inch of exposed skin and dark fury settled on her face. She shot Sauron one glance of pure venom, then followed after Aulë. A stunned silence fell over the plaza.

[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."

[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]

The third round of chapters is posted!!! 5 chapters altogether!

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Choose Your Own Adventure, Darkening of Valinor, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), POV Second Person, Valinor, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Series: Part 1 of Be He Foe or Friend Summary:

In this fanfic you read the about the events of the Silmarillion as if you are witnessing them as Lalwen, daughter of Finwe. You get to make choices that influence the story at key points, starting in Valinor before the darkening. This is my first fic I've ever posted so I'm trying to stay on the safe side with tagging, I'll try to put warnings on more intense chapters.

[bralesscommie]

I did a thing

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