hunters

So I have a prompt list. Several actually. And every day I write a short story based off my prompt word/phrase of the day. All of them are Silmarillion-related (dips into The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings here and there). Expect everything ranging from utterly cliche romance to mildly explicit gore and horror. No one ever said Arda was a nice place. But do note that I won't be posting any smut here. Prompts are meaningful snapshots, and unless the sex is really important, I'll be skipping it to get to the point.

In which the sons of Fëanor throw house parties, the beer is terrible, 20-something hipster elves act like their drama is as bad as it is in canon, and macking on cousins is fair game. 75% banter, 20% soap opera, 5% fratty humor; 100% dramamonsters. I regret nothing.

When Shadow returned to Arda marred, it fell upon a land long accustomed to living beneath a veil of darkness. The light of its people was never one so easily dimmed, you see . . . A collection of ficlets and drabbles. Next up: The survivors of Doriath, and the spring.

The sky was lightening. It took Irissë a while to notice.

Even if Fingon brings him back, it won't be the end of it.

Elenwë sat in the cold, trying to warm her hands by a meager fire.