Laurelindorenan

There are lots of exciting Tolkien fandom weeks/events coming up this year, so just like last year, I decided to create a masterpost to keep track of everything. Other excellent sources are @curiouselleth's Tolkien Fandom Events community as well as @tolkienfandomevents!

This list is not exhaustive, and dates are subject to change by the organisers of these events! Please check the original post for the most up-to-date version.

If you know of any events not included here, please don't hesitate to send me a message or an ask. Please note that I am not running any of these events myself and that I am not responsible for any prompts/submissions part of these events.

JANUARY

3: Tolkien Birthday Toast

4-10: Arafinwëan Week @arafinwean-week

8-14: Tolkien Women's Week @tolkienwomensweek

9: Tolkien Photoshoot at MagFest, hosted by @solmarillion

FEBRUARY

1-28: FiliOri Fest @filiorifest

1-28: Tolkien Femslash February @tolkienfemfeb

2-9: Tolkien Time Warp @tolkientimewarp

10-14: Valentine Event, hosted by @thelien-art

14-20: A Very Angbang Valentine's @very-angbang-valentines

22-28: Tolkien Sea Week @tolkienseaweek

MARCH

1-31: Back to Middle-earth Month @spring-into-arda

1-31: Thrór March @obscuredurins

15: Adar Ides of March, hosted by @eowyn7023

16-23: Celegorm and Curufin Week @cnc-week

16-29: Tolkien Fashion Week @tolkienfashionweek

23-29: Fëanorian Week @feanorianweek

25: Tolkien Reading Day

27-29: Fellowship Fest @spring-into-arda

APRIL

1-30: Barduil Month @bi-widower-dads

12: Daemags Day @daemags

26: Crablor Day @crablorday

27-3 May: Gondor Week @gondorweek

MAY

27 Apr-3: Gondor Week @gondorweek

3-9: LOTRO Week @lotro-week

4-10: Angbang Week @angbangweek

10-16: Aspec Arda Week @aspecardaweek

17-23: Week of Kiliel @weekofkiliel

JUNE

1-7: Silmarillion Epistolary Week @silmarillionepistolary

14-20: Boromir Week @boromir-week

15-21: Russingon Week @russingon-week

16-22: Tolkien Native Languages Appreciation Fest @jrrt-native-languages-fest

JULY

1-31: Tolkien Disability Pride @obscuredurins

6-12: Tolkien Gen Week @tolkiengenweek

13-19: Esoteric Tolkien Week @esotolkienweek

14-20: Celedriel Week @celedrielweek

25: LotR Musical Ephemera Extravaganza, hosted by @lotrmusical

31: Tolkien Meetup at Otakon, hosted by @solmarillion

AUGUST

2-16: Falešné společenstvo 25th Anniversary Celebration, hosted by @a-mountain-hobbit

10-16: Silvergifting Week @silvergiftingweek

10-16: Tolkien Duck Week, hosted by @baby-dragons-art

10-16: Míriel Week

23-29: Gigolas Week @gigolas-week

24-30: Tolkien OC Week @tolkienocweek

SEPTEMBER

1-30: Tolkien Sapphic September @tolkiensapphics

7-14: Sindar Week @sindarweek

20: Fingon x Finrod x Maedhros Day @fingon-finrod-maedhros

21-27: Finwëan Ladies Week @finweanladiesweek

28-4 Oct: Silm Smut Week @silmsmutweek

OCTOBER

28 Sep-4 Silm Smut Week @silmsmutweek

1-31: Erestober @erestober

1-31: Oritober @tolkien-oritober-event

18: Curufinrod Day @curufinrodweek

25-31: Tolkien Horror Week @tolkienhorrorweek

NOVEMBER

1-30: Nwalin November @nwalin-november

2-8: Tolkien Food Week @tolkien-food-week

9-16: Nolofinwëan Week @nolofinweanweek

16-22: Glorthelion Week @glorthelionweek

23-29: Tolkien Siblings Week @tolkiensiblingsweek

DECEMBER

1-31: Díscember @obscuredurins

13: Anairë and Fingolfin Day @ananolvo-day

Longer events:

Hobbit WIP Round-Up @acorn-and-oakleaves, October 2025-January 2026

My Slashy Valentine @myslashyvalentine, January-April

Leaf & Lore: A Tolkien Writing Month @leaf-and-lore, March-May

Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang @tolkienrsb, March-October

Scribbles & Drabbles @fall-for-tolkien, June-November

TROP Rewatch @troprewatch, January-February; July-November

Innumerable Stars @innumerable-stars, August-October

Finwëan Sibling Prompt Fest @finweansiblingfest, September-November

Silmarillion Secret Stockings @silmarillionstockings, November 2025-January 2026; October 2026-January 2027

SWG challenges @silmarillionwritersguild throughout the year

Teitho Contest @teitho, challenges throughout the year

Year of Bagginshield @acorn-and-oakleaves, prompts throughout the year

Honourable mentions:

Stage Adaptations Performance Calendar by @emeraldskulblaka

Like when Gandalf spent literal PAGES trying to figure out why the vibes were off in Moria and Legolas chimes in with just "it's a balrog :) that shit's evil :) we're so fucked :)" like what do you MEAN you knew already and just didn't tell him??

Or at the beginning of Two Towers when Aragorn thinks there's something nearby so he puts his ear to the ground to listen, and then like 10 minutes later is like "hmmm i hear horses" and Legolas is just like "mm yep. there are 105 blond bitches with spears" like you just let your friend put his face in the dirt and you can SEE them??

YOU 🫵 ARE CREATING A FANDOM SPACE BY EXISTING AROUND AND ENCOURAGING CONTENT CREATION

And I must confess: yes.

More than that, I tried to do it willingly.

And that, as it now seems to me, was the first mistake.

It all began quite innocently. They told me, “Finrod, it will be beautiful. You love memory, songs, ancient stories, elegant things, manuscripts, golden patterns, leaves, stars, melancholy, and everything that can be preserved for ages. Scrapbooking is perfect for you.”

You must admit, it sounded convincing.

I do love memory. I love carefully preserving what might otherwise dissolve into time: letters, fragments of songs, pressed leaves, small signs of great days, traces of journeys that look like trifles from the outside but contain entire ages within.

So when they laid out paper, ribbons, stickers, lace, stamps, ink, scissors, tiny wooden shapes, dried flowers, gold foil, and a jar of glitter before me, I thought:

“Yes. This is mine. Now I shall create something worthy of the halls of Nargothrond.”

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at the table covered in glue, with glitter on my face, a piece of decorative tape in my hair, and the expression of an Elf who had survived more than one war but had met a true enemy for the first time.

Its name was: double-sided tape.

I do not know who invented that thing, but I suspect he served the darkness.

At first glance, double-sided tape seems useful. Modest. Almost noble. It does not draw attention to itself, does not shine suspiciously, does not announce itself like a ring of power. It simply lies on the table and seems to say, “I shall help you attach this little frame neatly.”

Do not believe it.

First you try to peel off the protective layer. Then the protective layer refuses to come off. Then it comes off, but sticks to your finger. Then the tape itself sticks to another finger. Then you try to free the first finger with the second, and now both fingers have formed an alliance with the tape against you.

After a while, you are no longer the King of Nargothrond, nor the son of Finarfin, nor the friend of Men, nor a singer capable of contending in songs of power.

You are simply a creature whispering, “Release me.”

And the tape does not release you.

The next mistake was glitter.

They told me, “Finrod, add a little sparkle. It will suit you.”

First of all, I have quite enough radiance as it is.

Second of all, “a little glitter” is a lie the world tells itself.

There is no such thing as “a little glitter.” There is only the moment when you open the jar, and the next moment when the glitter has already seized power over the entire room.

It was on the paper. On the table. On my sleeves. On my cloak. On my eyebrows. On the cup. On someone else’s conscience. On the memories of the First Age. I suspect several specks of glitter found their way into songs that have not even been written yet.

I tried to shake them off.

They only shone more brightly.

I tried to blow them away.

They scattered with the triumph of conquerors.

I tried to preserve my dignity.

That proved hardest of all.

Then they gave me decorative scissors.

“These can make a beautiful wavy edge,” they said.

I looked at the scissors. The scissors looked at me.

I thought, “I have seen blades forged by great masters. I have held weapons whose song was clearer than the morning star. Surely I can handle scissors?”

Oh, how pride can speak with the voice of confidence.

The first edge did not turn out wavy, but tragic.

The second was philosophical.

The third resembled a map of lands where no one should ever settle.

I tried to straighten it. Then I tried to straighten what I had straightened. Then I tried to save the page with decorative tape. Then the decorative tape stuck crookedly. Then I decided that perhaps crookedness was an artistic choice.

That, I believe, is how many civilizations begin to fall: with the phrase, “It was meant to look like that.”

Composition deserves a separate mention.

I thought it would be simple. After all, I know how to perceive harmony. I know how balance sounds in a song, how light falls upon stone, how the lines of arches guide the eye toward the center of a hall. I built cities, after all.

But scrapbooking does not obey the laws of architecture.

You place a photograph on the page. Beside it, a leaf. Above it, a frame. On the side, a small inscription. It seems good. Then you add a piece of lace. Now it is strange. You add a golden twig. Now everything looks solemn, but troubling. You add a star sticker. Now the page seems about to proclaim a prophecy.

You remove the star.

Empty.

You return the star.

Too much.

You move it three millimeters.

Suddenly better.

And there you sit over a sheet of paper and realize that the fate of an entire composition depends on three millimeters.

I have seen battles with less tension.

Glue deserves special mention as well.

Glue is a substance in which a particular form of chaos is imprisoned.

At first there is too little of it, and nothing holds. Then you add a little more, and the page begins to look as though it has been wept over. Then you try to remove the excess, and the glue smears. Then dust sticks to it. Then your finger sticks to it. Then a little golden leaf sticks to your finger.

And so you sit there, raising your hand with a decorative element solemnly attached to it, and think:

“Perhaps this is a sign.”

The problem is that in scrapbooking, anything can be a sign. A pressed leaf is a sign of memory. A scrap of fabric is a sign of the road. A glue stain is a sign that you are tired. A crooked inscription is a sign of humility. A photograph accidentally glued upside down is a sign that you need rest.

But I did not rest.

Because, like any Elf with a rich history and an insufficiently developed instinct for self-preservation, I decided: if I have begun, I must bring it to beauty.

I chose the theme: “The Light We Preserve.”

It sounds worthy, does it not?

I wanted to make a page about friendship, loyalty, memory, and those small moments for which it is worth passing through darkness. The page was meant to have soft golden tones, green leaves, delicate lines, a little silver, a few handwritten words, and the feeling of quiet hope.

After an hour, the page looked as though quiet hope had collided with an artisan’s shop during an earthquake.

But I continued.

I cut. I glued. I peeled things off. I glued them again. I looked from a distance. I looked up close. I turned the page. I doubted. I added a small detail. I regretted it. I hid it under another detail. I pretended that this made it deeper.

At one point I said the words:

“I need more texture.”

After that, I should have been stopped.

But no one stopped me.

Additional layers of paper appeared. Ribbon appeared. Some miniature flowers appeared. A frame appeared that I had not planned. An inscription appeared that I rewrote seven times because my handwriting suddenly decided to become dramatic.

And, of course, the glitter returned.

It always returns.

By the end of the evening, I was covered in the marks of battle. Paper scraps lay upon the table like fallen warriors. The glue stood there looking victorious. The scissors were silent, but I could feel their judgment. Glitter shone everywhere like stars over the site of a catastrophe.

And before me lay the page.

Imperfect.

Too layered.

Clearly overloaded in one corner.

With one frame that I had not glued entirely straight, but had already decided to love as it was.

And do you know what?

It was beautiful.

Not because it was flawless. No. It was farther from flawlessness than certain oath-bound relatives are from common sense.

It was beautiful because everything remained within it: my intention, my struggle, my exhaustion, my stubbornness, my laughter, my failure, my attempt to make memory visible.

And perhaps that was when I finally understood scrapbooking.

It is not about the perfect page.

It is about taking the chaos of memories and trying to give it form.

You take a day that might have vanished and say to it: “No. You shall remain.”

You take a little ticket, a pressed flower, a letter, a photograph, a scrap of ribbon, a stray phrase — and turn them into proof that life was not only a sequence of great events, battles, decisions, and losses.

It was also a cup of tea on the table.

Laughter at the wrong moment.

A leaf picked up from the road.

A crooked signature.

A speck of glitter that you find on yourself three weeks later and, for some reason, smile.

So yes, I tried scrapbooking.

I argued with tape.

I was defeated by glue.

I lost part of my dignity to glitter.

I realized that decorative scissors require more wisdom than some royal councils.

But in the end, I made a page of memory.

And if you look at it in soft evening light, squint a little, and do not examine the lower left corner too closely, it truly does resemble a small song.

Perhaps I will try again.

But first I need to wash my hands.

And my cloak.

And the table.

And, I think, one of my councillors, who merely happened to pass by but now sparkles too.

Scrapbooking is a dangerous art.

the “draw your favorite character with your problems” trend