Nerdanel

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.

Story Summary: Written in honor of Halloween/ Day of the Dead/ Samhain and other such practices that grew out of the Harvest feasts, and/or marked the beginning of winter, the earth’s slumber. Some say it is a time when the veil between worlds is thinned, and so it is in Aman. But our favorite elf finds himself put out by his growing responsibilities as a Noldorin Prince, so much so he wishes himself a lady. Ask and ye shall receive it is said, but be wary for wishes that come to pass may not be all that is desired. The origins of this story was from a blog that requested rule 63 for Maedhros or Fingon. This is my attempt. I hope it is entertaining. *Chapter 7 fixed*

Fëanor runs into someone on a solitary journey and finds that he doesn't mind the company.

Fëanor gets lost. Nerdanel bails him out, after a manner of speaking.