Stories of Arda

The world of J.R.R. Tolkien is owned by Tolkien Enterprises and/or New Line Cinema. No money is made from these stories. The stories are the intellectual property of the author(s) and should not be reproduced without their permission.

‘Master Meriadoc,’ said Aragorn, ‘if you think that I have passed through the mountains and the realm of Gondor with fire and sword to bring herbs to a careless soldier who throws away his gear, you are mistaken. If your pack has not been found, then you must send for the herb-master of this House. And he will tell you that he did not know that the herb you desire had any virtues, but that it is called westmansweed by the vulgar, and galenas by the noble, and other names in other tongues more learned, and after adding a few half-forgotten rhymes that he does not understand, he will regretfully inform you that there is none in the House, and he will leave you to reflect on the history of tongues. And so now must I. For I have not slept in such a bed as this, since I rode from Dunharrow, nor eaten since the dark before dawn.’

Welcome to the updated site!  Email notifications have been restored, and the security has been massively upgraded. You will need to update your passwords the first time you login.  If the email address attached to your account isn't accessible, please contact an admin.  Come on in and stay awhile.

Stories

5,375 stories in the archive