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Fast Falls the Eventide by Narya Teen
Passing through an English country village, Maglor encounters a grieving mother struggling to come to terms with a deep injustice.
~ The Last Fires of Autumn ~ by Spiced Wine Mature
An autumn night in Imladris. Elrohir and Tindómion speak. Mentions of slash, of violence, therefore rated mature.
Heralds of the Dawn by Encairion Mature
And death shall have no dominion. The final installment of The Price of Eternity series.  
Consign Me Not to Darkness by lotrfan General Audiences
Finrod accompanies Beren to retrieve a Silmaril and is captured, along with his companions. His encounter with Sauron in...
~ Magnificat of the Damned. Book IV: Anvil ~ by Spiced Wine Mature
From Angmar to the Dagor Dagorath. The final story in the Magnificat of the Damned series. The Doom and destiny of the...
Where the Shadows Lie by ziggy General Audiences
The One Ring has been destroyed and Sauron banished to the Dark with Morgoth. But not all the Rings were destroyed with the...
Let the Memories Be Good by lotrfan General Audiences
Legolas and Gimli must come to terms with Aragorn's aging, as well as Gimli's own. Set after events of LOTR. Written for...

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Spiced Wine
08/21/18 10:24 am
I am nit surprised, Narya, they were wonderful ideas
08/20/18 11:58 pm
It's literally just for the exchange, there's no expectation on anyone else to write anything for it :) I'll leave it up though. I gave myself some ideas when I was writing it, tbh...
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:49 pm
I don’t think yours are ‘out there’, just quite deep :)
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:49 pm
Or if I am over with her and the internet there is often spotty
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:47 pm
But at some point. Sometimes I write in the hospital if I am waiting for Mum, but often I can’t get internet so I just do some writing
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 10:47 pm
Well, if you keep your letter up, Narya, I can look at it, and see if I get any ideas, I don’t mean for this exchange
08/20/18 10:00 pm
And in all fairness, the only obligation on the writer/artist is to produce something with the characters matched on and avoid DNWs, not to follow the prompts and worldbuilding tags.
08/20/18 09:59 pm
Some of mine are a bit out there, I doubt I'll get matched on any of the obscure stuff.
08/20/18 09:56 pm
Oh gosh, Spiced, I wouldn't expect you to <3 you have so much going on! Although it was your wonderful Coldagnir who prompted me to ask for original Balrog characters ;)
Spiced Wine
08/20/18 09:30 pm
Your requests were interesting though, Narya, a bit beyond me, though!
Shout Archive

Those Without Swords by Narya

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Story notes:
Himring requested Írimë with the two daughters I gave her in my fic "Song for the Morning." This takes place much later in the timeline than that story, in the early First Age. I hope you enjoy.
The light was wrong for sketching, Olorissë thought – too weak, too pale, too tired. The crackle of the camp fires snapped over the cold ringing of metal as her mother and sister practised. Her pencil flew across the page, one deft stroke after another capturing the swing of their blades, the arc of their bodies, the sun in their braided hair.

A fluid feint-and-lunge from Ríniel, and suddenly Írimë was on her back in the dust, laughing.

“Well done!” Her blue eyes flashed with pride as Ríniel pulled her up. “Olorissë – you next.”

Olorissë's stomach knotted. “Here? In front of everyone?” Blood heated her cheeks. At the Lammoth she had hidden in the rearguard with the children and servants, knowing well that she had none of Ríniel's athletic grace, or her brothers' fierce courage.

Írimë raised an eyebrow. Suddenly she looked so like Grandmother Indis that Olorissë flinched. “Yes. Here.”


“Do not argue!” More softly, she added, “Do you imagine you are safe from danger because you do not wish to bear arms?" Defiance darkened her bright eyes. "I will not let this war have my daughters; it has taken too much from us already.”

Memories flickered in a cruel dance – Fëanáro's wild cries when he learned of Finwë's death; Elenwë, hauled stiff from the water; Turukáno and Itarildë's frozen grief; Arakáno's bloodied corpse; Nelyo, lying maimed in the Healers' tent. Olorissë swallowed and got to her feet.

“Good.” Írimë tossed over one of the practice swords, and smiled her approval as her daughter caught it. “Now – on your guard.”

Olorissë relaxed her frame and raised her blade in a soldier's salute.
Chapter end notes:
"Amya" - Quenya, "Mother." Informal. Source: Parf Edhellen.
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