If what swept you away in The Sword Of Welleran was its stately, jeweled language—the way the statues of Welleran and his companions seem to speak in dreams with the gravity of old legend—then Eddison’s The Worm Ouroboros will feel like coming home. Its sentences sing with the same antique music, and its battles and embassies unfurl with a ceremonious grandeur that recalls Merimna’s long memory and the young citizen who lifts Welleran’s sword to defend it.

You loved how the dead champions of Merimna—Welleran and his fellows—still shape the living through dream and memory. In The Silmarillion, heroism and fall echo through eras: the oath of Fëanor, Beren and Lúthien’s quest, and Túrin’s doom all feel like the kind of legendary bedrock that, as in Welleran, reaches forward to rouse ordinary folk when peril comes.

If Merimna’s drowsy prosperity—and its sudden stirring when the statues’ dreams call the city back to courage—stuck with you, Lud-in-the-Mist offers a kindred spell. The burgesses of Lud prefer comfort to courage until illicit fairy fruit and whispers from the unseen world force them, like the youths of Merimna, to face what their city has forgotten.

The hush of awe in Welleran—the moonlit statues, the dream-sendings, the moment a nameless youth becomes a defender—finds a tender echo in The Last Unicorn. Beagle’s tale glows with that same aching wonder as the unicorn, Schmendrick, and Molly Grue seek what’s vanished and reclaim a courage the world thought lost.

If the spectral guidance of Merimna’s heroes—speaking through dreams to stir a city—enchanted you, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath amplifies that oneiric pull. Randolph Carter wanders moonlit plateaus and opal cities, bargaining with gods much as Merimna’s youths heed voices from beyond, until vision and waking courage collide.