A novella of the House of Finwë from the Darkening of Valinor to the fall of the Last Alliance upon the slopes of Mount Doom. Told by the long silenced voices of: Irimë Finwëion the Mistress, Glorfindel Fëanorion the Savior, Maeglin the Traitor, Gildor the Bastard, Celebrimbor the Martyr, and Celebrían the Victim.

“Vengeance calls me hence…Yet I am not the only valiant in the valiant people. And have ye not all lost your King? And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea? ...Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road! Say Farwell to bondage! But say farewell also to ease! Say Farwell to the weak! ... Journey light: but bring with you your swords! For we will go further then Oromë, endure longer then Tulkas: we will never turn back from pursuit. After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying!” –Fëanor

Artist: Gold-Seven

An utterly unredeemable PWP. Celegorm discovers one of the many uses of the reading nooks in the gardens of Nargothrond.

Finrod knew his cousin’s tastes were… unusual to some and deviant to others, but he also knew his cousin was discrete about such things. He did not expect to make walking in on Celegorm flagrante delicto an annual occurrence.

Celegorm was his favourite uncle for a reason. That was why it hurt the most.

Curufinwe is in love. Tyelkormo observes. A snap shot from a not unusual but certaintly important day in Tirion.

They were all children once, and played as children do. Cousins played games with cousins without the undercurrents of discontent between their fathers ruining the golden days spent in their grandfather's garden. There were secrets, though, even then but they did not care about them.

Of course those days are as dead as that much beloved grandfather and Finrod barely thinks of the time he was little Finda in a child's frock, clinging to Tyelkormo's skirt with Carnistir's hand stuck to his, as they braved the "wilderness" of Míriel's garden.

It seems though that there are some final lessons to be learnt, some final games to be played and a secret or two to discover that should have been left alone. 

In Nargothrond Finrod Felagund is both the unwitting architect and witness to the final, dying gasp of Fëanorian innocence.