tolkienmatters

[tolkienmatters]

‘Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? Or shall we return to our home? In Cuivienen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!’

Of the Flight of the Noldor

And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves. For Maglor was mighty among the singers of old, named only after Daeron of Doriath; but he came never back among the people of the Elves. And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters.

Of the Voyage of Earendil and the War of Wrath

Maglor

Friendly reminder that Fëanor spurred the Noldor to leave Valinor by telling them if they stayed they would become “a shadow-folk, mist-haunting” who would “mourn deedless forever, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea.” This is the ultimate fate of Fëanor’s only surviving son Maglor, who cast a Silmaril into the sea and spent the rest of his life “[wandering] ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves.” (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

[tolkienmatters]

There was a long silence. At last Frodo spoke with hesitation. ‘I believed that you were a friend before the letter came,’ he said, ‘or at least I wished to. You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would – well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand.’

‘I see,’ laughed Strider. ‘I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.’

Aragorn being the guy of all time. Fellowship of the Ring, Strider.

after a lifetime of hearing about aragorn but not reading the books or watching the movies, genuinely nothing could have prepared me for his actual introduction. the hobbits picked this man out of a dumpster. he is a textbook softspoken angst prince and he is covered in dirt and he probably smells so bad. he’s the coolest man alive and is so casual about it. his number one skill is Knowing Where They Are and his number two skill is Having A Horrible Destiny That Torments Him. tolkien got it in one i’m afraid aragorn son of arathorn you are the guy of all time

[tolkienmatters]

Suddenly, and to his own surprise, Frodo felt a hot wrath blaze up in his heart. ‘The Shire!’ he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped, and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo’s arm. Black drops dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the door and slammed it again.

‘One for the Shire!’ cried Aragorn. ‘The hobbit’s bite is deep! You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo!’

Frodo's courage during the battle in Balin's Tomb. Fellowship of the Ring, The Bridge of Khazad-dûm.

[tolkienmatters]

[tolkienmatters]

“Now the tale turns to Mîm the Petty-dwarf. The Petty-dwarves are long out of mind, for Mîm was the last. Little was known of them even in days of old. The Nibin-nogrim the Elves of Beleriand called them long ago, but they did not love them; and the Petty- dwarves loved none but themselves. If they hated and feared the Orcs, they hated also the Eldar, and the Exiles most of all; for the Noldor, they said, had stolen their lands and their homes. Nargothrond was first found and its delving begun by the Petty-dwarves, long before Finrod Felagund came over the Sea. They came, some said, of Dwarves that had been banished from the Dwarf-cities of the east in ancient days. Long before the return of Morgoth they had wandered westward. Being masterless and few in number, they found it hard to come by the ore of metals, and their smith-craft and store of weapons dwindled; and they took to lives of stealth, and became somewhat smaller in stature than their eastern kin, walking with bent shoulders and quick, furtive steps. Nonetheless, as all the Dwarf-kind, they were far stronger than their stature promised, and they could cling to life in great hardship. But now at last they had dwindled and died out of Middle-earth, all save Mîm and his two sons; and Mîm was old even in the reckoning of Dwarves, old and forgotten.”

— The introduction of Mîm and a brief description of the Petty-dwarves. Chapter VII, Of Mîm The Dwarf, The Children of Húrin.

[tolkienmatters]

I often feel echoes

In this empty head,

As if pieces of me were dropped

Along the path I had tread.

I wondered what was in there

Before I sought a cure,

Before I settled on the solution,

And wanted nothing more.

Here I am talking about myself,

Words reverberating against my bones.

My hollow frame never feeling filled,

As if I am travelling between homes.

What would I give to feel whole again?

A selfish question at its core.

What would I give to stop these shaking bones?

Everything, and more.

Hollow by C. D. Valera

[tolkienmatters]

VAIRË PROPAGANDA (art by Alice Falto):

Valar are hot right

“weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs, and the halls of Mandos that ever widen as the ages pass are clothed with them”

I have 🥩 with her.

“Her Noldorin name is said to be Gwîr ("Weaver")”

Did you know Gwib means “Penis” in Early Noldorin.

THURINGWETHIL PROPAGANDA (art by Tolrone):

Goth! Vampire! Goth vampire!

Sauron’s messenger :)

Alas she fucking died.

Her cloak got stolen by Lúthien :’( #Justice4Thuri

Did you know her name means woman of secret shadow

Did you know that’s basically all we know about her

[tolkienmatters]

"S-s-s-s-s," said Gollum more upset than ever. He thought of all the things he kept in his own pockets: fishbones, goblins' teeth, wet shells, a bit of bat-wing, a sharp stone to sharpen his fangs on, and other nasty things. He tried to think what other people kept in their pockets. "Knife!" he said at last.

"Wrong!" said Bilbo, who had lost his some time ago.

Gollum's pockets, The Hobbit, Riddles in the Dark.

Yep!

But also, it had become pretty nearly universal to depict him loinclothed (or entirely nude) in illustrations before the movies were made, which is probably why they went that route.

We only know Gollum has clothes in part because he was being drawn that way when jirt was still alive to say 'Hey, why is Gollum naked? I never said he was naked?'

There's another weird evolution of visual design here... Gollum was stealing his clothes from orcs. Well, orcs are usually depicted naked now too, for some reason, so there's nothing for him to steal but a loincloth. Sméagol can't get a break.

[tolkienmatters]

Heart by the door,

Lungs on the floor,

I left my kidneys downstairs.

For anyone who cares.

I don’t know where my spleen is,

It’s almost out anyway.

My brain I think I remember,

At least in its original form.

Perhaps all this blood isn’t from me,

Perhaps it came from the crowd.

But I forgot that nobody’s around me,

And that it was just a shroud,

I still have one thing I can cling to,

Or well, it clings onto me.

And that is the guilt I suffer,

And sometimes it makes poetry.

Heart by the Door by C. D. Valera.

[tolkienmatters]

Reading this in Lord of the Rings and knowing how silmarillion got to be printed is an experience.

[tolkienmatters]

“The West Door of Moria” by Darrel K. Sweet (1981)

[tolkienmatters]

Bilbo being a rabbit in The Hobbit

“He wouldn’t make above a mouthful,” said William, who had already had a fine supper, “not when he was skinned and boned”.

“P’raps there are more like him round about, and we might make a pie,” said Bert. “Here you, are there any more of your sort a-sneakin’ in these here woods, yer nassty little rabbit,” said he looking at the hobbit’s furry feet; and he picked him up by the toes and shook him.

“Yes, lots,” said Bilbo, before he remembered not to give his friends away. “No, none at all, not one,” he said immediately afterwards.

William, Tom, & Bert plotting to eat Bilbo, The Hobbit, Roast Mutton.

Gandalf, who was a good deal taller than the others, had found a tree into which they could not climb, a large pine standing at the very edge of the glade. He was quite hidden in its boughs, but you could see his eyes gleaming in the moon as he peeped out.

And Bilbo? He could not get into any tree, and was scuttling about from trunk to trunk, like a rabbit that has lost its hole and has a dog after it. “You’ve left the burglar behind again}” said Nori to Dori looking down.

“I can’t be always carrying burglars on my back,” said Dori, “down tunnels and up trees! What do you think I am? A porter?”

“He’ll be eaten if we don’t ‘do something,” said Thorin

Thorin’s Company hiding in a tree from wolves, The Hobbit, Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire.

Soon another eagle flew up. “The Lord of the Eagles bids you to bring your prisoners to the Great Shelf,” he cried and was off again. The other seized Dori in his claws and flew away with him into the night leaving Bilbo all alone. He had just strength to wonder what the messenger had meant by ‘prisoners,’ and to begin to think of being torn up for supper like a rabbit, when his own turn came. The eagle came back, seized him in his talons by the back of his coat, and swooped off.

Bilbo being picked up by an Eagle, The Hobbit, Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire.

“Don’t pinch!” said his eagle. “You need not be frightened like a rabbit, even if you look rather like one. It is a fair morning with little wind. What is finer than flying?”

Bilbo would have liked to say: “A warm bath and late breakfast on the lawn afterwards;” but he thought it better to say nothing at all, and to let go his clutch just a tiny bit.

Bilbo riding on an Eagle. The Hobbit, Queer Lodgings.

“You! You!” cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. “You miserable hobbit! You undersized-burglar!” he shouted at a loss for words, and he shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit.

“By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!” he cried and lifted Bilbo in his arms.

Thorin angered by Bilbo’s surrender of the Arkenstone, The Hobbit, The Clouds Burst.

[tolkienmatters]

In the 1050 of the Third Age Gondor was at the height of its power and "defeated the Men of the Harad, and their kings were compelled to acknowledge the overlordship of Gondor…the kings of the Harad did homage to Gondor, and their sons lived as hostages in the court of its King."

RotK, Appendix A, I, iv, Gondor and the Heirs of Anarion

✔ Close-up of Haradrim Prince -> click here

[tolkienmatters]

Elvis was a hero in motion 🕺

[tolkienmatters]

There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat that plays a five-stringed fiddle; And up and down he runs his bow, Now squeaking high, now purring low, now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog that is mighty fond of jokes; When there’s good cheer among the guests, He cocks an ear at all the jests and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow as proud as any queen; But music turns her head like ale, And makes her wave her tufted tail and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes and the store of silver spoons! For Sunday there’s a special pair, And these they polish up with care on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep, and the cat began to wail; A dish and a spoon on the table danced, The cow in the garden madly pranced, and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug and then rolled beneath his chair; And there he dozed and dreamed of ale, Till in the sky the stars were pale, and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat: ‘The white horses of the Moon, They neigh and champ their silver bits; But their master’s been and drowned his wits, and the Sun’ll be rising soon!’

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a jig that would wake the dead: He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: ‘It’s after three!’ he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill and bundled him into the Moon, While his horses galloped up in rear, And the cow came capering like a deer, and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle; the dog began to roar, The cow and the horses stood on their heads; The guests all bounded from their beds and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke! the cow jumped over the Moon, And the little dog laughed to see such fun, And the Saturday dish went off at a run with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill as the Sun raised up her head. She hardly believed her fiery eyes; For though it was day, to her surprise they all went back to bed

"a ridiculous song invented by Bilbo" as sung by Frodo Baggins in the Prancing Pony. This song was likely a precursor to our modern song "The Cat and the Fiddle", Tom Shippey asserts "If one assumes a long tradition of 'idle children' repeating 'thoughtless tales' in increasing confusion, one might think that poems like Tolkien's were the remote ancestors of the modern rhymes." & "This interest in the descent of fables probably explains why Tolkien did try his hand at two 'Man in the Moon' poems, 'The Man in the Moon came down too soon'" in relation to this (Shippey, The Road to Middle-Earth, Philological Inquiries). Fellowship of the Ring, At the Sign of the Prancing Pony.