Summary of fic: "Maedhros wakes up again, on the first morning of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Of course, nobody calls it that. For them, it hasn't happened yet."

The paylist follows the general vibe of the narrative: Maedhros' realization of the cycles, his struggles, his saving grace, and his determination to succeed in battle with his loved ones alive no matter how many times he has to get back up and try again. The songs genre is mostly: indie, folk, with some musical numbers thrown in because honestly, its not one of my playlists without a musical song or two

Contrary to popular belief, the passage itself is not very spacious, and most of my days I take my walks in the town right outside of our domain. But ever since my best friend returned I haven’t been able to find the peace of mind I so desperately crave.

I hold my breath as I turn every corner. I scan the face of every stranger. I flinch at the slightest sound. And I know that he is not one to wander, that was always my thing. I used to pass by his window so often that at a certain point he started referring to me as ‘she who wanders’ after an ancient legend we heard of as children. I loved that title. Took pride in it even. To be likened to the stories of old, of course I would revel in it.

Now it’s mocking me.

Because I still wander and I fear the sight of him. I haven’t seen him since he returned, but the very knowledge that he’s here again is enough to unsettle me. I miss him, but I’m scared. I’m angry with him, but I still pass by his window hoping to see him. I don’t want our friendship to change, yet I know it has.

- This is part of Threadverse. Read more about it here! -

CWs/TWs : talk of death and "terminal illness", PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

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"so, how's the harvest?"

"..."

Everyone stop! threadverse has a new fic following Maeglin and it has my whole heart 😢

Here is King Beside the High King, Maedhros

and soon to b begrudging besties Maeglin and Celebrimbor

PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

- This is part of Threadverse, read more about it here! -

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"Killer."

"yeah boss?"

"Why did you kill."

It was built by people from another thread, great architects, sorcerers and philosophers. And it’s impressive, how they traveled over multiple threads (approximately five, though the threads have since shifted slightly) to get here. It was so long ago - during a time of instability for the closest threads too us - and yet they found their way.

The most notable part of this city they built was a circle of eight towers. The city has an inner and an outer ring, and in the outer one the eight towers stand guard. You can only ever see at most three at the same time, but everyone knows they form a circle.

The octagon, it is called.

Today most of the towers are overshadowed by newer buildings, however they still retain their significance. They house the main branches of the advanced academies, one of which, I go to.

It’s a beautiful place, our corner of the octagon.

It’s in the middle of a park called the Water Lily pond. Very self explanatory, indeed there is a pond and it is entirely full of water lilies that bloom in the spring.

The academy is right next to it, the newer buildings surrounding the tower like a skeleton around a heart. And the tower itself, it’s enchantments wearing off ages ago, is drooping, but still standing. It’s a part of the academy’s library now, and I find a very special sort of beauty in that. Stories in a place of history.

This weekend the elders, my parents, hosted their annual feast to celebrate the coming of winter. I have at last reached an age where I can attend. It was a lovely evening and I was drunk, not on spirits or seelie’s tears, but on pride and belief.

Belief that maybe I was worthy of more respect than I’ve received.

So I did what I’d been avoiding. I sent a letter to my closest friend, the one who’s been drifting. The one I’ve loved and feared and everything in between. I said my piece, simple and concise. This conflict between us is but a root in an entire system, but it was the only way I knew to voice my sadness.

And I’ve heard nothing.

I wanted to try to fix this, but it seems I was the only one left in the room. I have been pleading to ghosts and dust.

I love him still, I don’t know how not to, even after all this. I don’t know how to express the anger I carry within, I never do. So I suppress it, as I always do.

Naturally, this was not actually the first one I visited, it is prudent to start with threads close to one’s own, since they often share similar traits and… well, dangers.

This thread was nothing like mine, perhaps that is why I remember it so clearly despite being so very young. Before we headed off, we received multiple wards - ones I’d never heard of before and never seen used since. Even the Elders couldn’t cast them, we had to apply to the central branch of protective enchantments and get a specialized sorcerer to do it. I cried the entire time.

But I digress. The thread was peculiar in many ways, but the most remarkable - and terrifying - thing about it was the ground. The entire surface of the ground was covered in a thin but extremely potent kind of toxin. It was natural to the thread, but corrosive in nature to organic life forms, hence the many wards.

Now, one might ask, why did we visit this thread then? If it is just a place of death and decay? And well that’s easy: it isn’t. People lived there, common people, just like in my thread. And they had lived there for so long that they were accustomed to the toxin, they almost required it to live. They walked barefoot on the ground that would have slowly eaten away at my skin. It flowed through their thread, their waters, their very blood. And to me it was poison.

The thread in and of itself was pleasant, at least the parts we visited. I even befriended an older girl, despite not speaking the same language as her. At one point, I got hit by a blue curse. It was foolish on my part, and even more foolish when I realized that despite my highly advanced wards, they did not keep something so simple as a blue curse out. The girl was with me at the time and she panicked. And it hit me, these people could get used to the poison that permeated the fabric of their lands, but some hurts were still shared, despite the differences of our threads.