floustian

[floustian]

There's a new book of queer tolkien scholarship coming out and my partner wrote a chapter for it! It's called Queer Approaches to Tolkien and if anyone's interested it can be preordered here.

[floustian]

An attempt at a Númenorean tughra

Monogram of Elros Tar-Minyatur

An early monogram, displaying few of the features conventionally associated with later devices, or only in germ. The name of the king is in black (Tar-Minyatur) while 'Elenna' is written in red.

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Monogram of Tar Vardamir, named Nólimon

This is certainly an invention of a scribe working long after the death of Vardamir, as the presence of features adopted much later attest - doubtless because the nominal second ruler of Númenor never reigned.

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Monogram of Tar Amandil

In this monogram, the star shape is more pronounced; the tehta representing the 'a' of 'Elenna' has also been moved to the centre of the device - representing, naturally, the summit of Meneltarma.

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Monogram of Tar Elendil

The conventional features are now all present: the star shape is evident, and only the tehtar representing the 'a' in 'Tar' and 'Elenna' have been retained, in symbolic positions, one representing Meneltarma and the other the promontory of Forrostar or, in some interpretations, the stars (clearly the choice made by the scribe who invented the device of Vardamir, perhaps in reverence towards the Valië for whom the king was named).

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Monogram of Anardil, Tar Aldarion

In this monogram the tehtar are now circumflexes. The king's two names are present, one on land, the other at sea. A ship has been added.

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Monogram of Tar Ancalimë

The names of both of the Ruling Queen's parents have been included in this monogram, one that is particularly ornate for the period.

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explanation: ever since visiting Istanbul a year ago I've been interested in the tughra, a calligraphic monogram used by Ottoman sultans, much as seals were elsewhere (to authentify the sultan's correspondence or official documents), and also on a variety of objects, e.g. here on a wall at Topkapı palace or here on a coin). They started out fairly simple but some ended up being very ornate and gorgeous; and they typically contained the name of the sultan, that of his father, as well as things like epithets and prayers, and also had some conventional features which made them easy to recognise - the beyze (egg), i.e. the loops on the left hand side, and the three tuğ (flagstaff) at the top.

Anyway I've been trying to come up with a Númenorean version and ended up with this, combining some form of the prefix 'Tar' and the name 'Elenna'. As it happens the Ottoman tughra may have had a cartographic element as well - the loops on the left are said to possibly symbolise the two seas - Black Sea, Mediterranean - on whose shores they ruled. Hence the star shape (which I wanted from the start really) and Meneltarma.

I hope I haven't made too many mistakes with the tengwar. I used the classical mode which I've since gathered may not have been the one in use in Númenor or at least not late in Númenor's history... in any case I've taken some wild liberties with the layout anyway, sorry Jirt.

[floustian]

Thinking about drafts!Boromir who actually survived the breaking of the fellowship and who distrusted Aragorn so much he was willing to ally with Saruman in order to kick him off the throne... I know Tolkien did that to make you appear faithless and power hungry, long lost Boromir, but don't worry I get it, I support you, everyone loves to call themselves anti-monarchy until the monarch in question calls himself beautiful in the record of history HE editted, you SHOULD get Saruman to wizard him to death and Grima can eat his body afterwards 💖

[floustian]

Been suffering through my Prozac prescription, whole time I just needed to go on a quest.

[floustian]

Sights of Ambarûl

[floustian]

hey friends where is that picture of boromir with the gondor flag except its a pride flag?

[floustian]

🟪 minecraft-elvis follow

woah mama i tried to water bucket clutch in the nether

🟦 speedrunner-elvis follow

woah mama you suck

🟪 minecraft-elvis

bitch

🟦 speedrunner-elvis

wooaaahhh mama @/elvis-corrector he didn't say the line woah mama

🔫 elvis-corrector follow

say the fucking line or you go to the big toilet in the sky

🟪 minecraft-elvis

woah mama i'm being threatened *wiggles my legs in defence*

🔬elvis-scientist follow

this elvis is clearly in distress, they only wiggle their legs in such a funky way to ward off predators, the little guy thinks his life is in danger please be more responsible with your elvis husbandry

🔍 elvis-detector follow

BEEP

[floustian]

[floustian]

Faramir is literally like... a guy who still believes in Humorism in the year of our lord 2025. Like to put this in perspective, whilst everyone in LotR talks about and applies to the concept of 'lesser men', Faramir's the only one who uses language invented when Arda was still flat to define the precise particulars of how his race is superior to everyone elses. This is racial hegemony rhetoric from before Gondor even existed, we're talking over 3000 years ago. Like okay Faramir is apparently 'well read' but we never ask ourselves what this motherfucker is actually reading. The Bell Curve?? The Phrenological Journal and Magazine of Moral Science???

[floustian]

see here's the thing about Adar...

MY MAN JUST KEEPS WINNING!!

Sauron at the beginning of the Second Age? STABBED.

Orodruin? ERUPTED.

Eregion? SIEGED.

The Ring of Power? SECURED.

Like ffs, if the elves had just DONE WHAT HE ASKED, my man would have dealt with Ost-in-Edhil's Sauron infestation by LUNCHTIME.

JUST LET HIM COOK.

[floustian]

All of you are so utterly entrenched in the dogma of private property & individualism. Yes let's perpetuate the idea that art must only exist as a commodity forever & the sole property of whoever made it !! No free exchange of art or ideas- NOTHING !! WE MUST ALL BECOME FULLY ATOMIZED PETIT BOURGEOIS ARTISANS

This is the worst timeline. (x)

[floustian]

one elf cigarette, husbanded carefully, can burn for 3 or 4 human generations. my boy your great grandpappy bummed this ciggie from the leaf-crowned prince of the splendid dales and it has burned on the mantle of our house ever since. on your 14th nameday, my son, you will puff it at last, and become a man

[floustian]

I’m always amazed by YA fictions ability to evoke fascist imagery for their villains to signify they are the baddies while maintaining the most fascist eugenicist politics as the entire thesis of the plot the entire time

[floustian]

Gondorian fable to teach children not to kill small spiders, inspite of their shadowy, yonic, insatiable and giant brethren that may or may not be haunting a pass to Mordor nearby, if you even care 🕷️

Once upon a time there was a little brown spiderling. She was one of many spiderling-sisters, just as her mother had many more sisters still, but she was very special even so.

One day, when practicing her little webs in the woods (just as her mother had told her), she found some children playing in the river closeby.

They shouted and squealed in delight as the little spider watched, and eventually they fell into the grassy banks, drying under the warm sun.

The little spider was still watching when suddenly one child noticed her! And she was afraid... The children were giants to her, you see, and clumsy. 'They will break my web, and squish me flat!' she wailed.

But the children did not break the little spider's web. Instead, they sprinkled tiny drops of river water on it and remarked upon it's beauty so bejewelled.

She thanked them in her little spider's voice (so quiet that only children can hear) and they were delighted and asked her to play with them. After but a moment's thought, she agreed.

By the time the little brown spider crept home to the dark and shadowy spider-lair where her mother and sisters lived, she had so many happy memories to share.

But her mother crawled from her sticky webs, her giant legs creeking and her beak chittering, and she was stern. She told her spiderling she should not be playing with any but her spider-kin.

And when the little spiderling asked why, her mother replied; They are our prey, little daughter. You will wrap them in your pretty webs and eat them one day.

The spiderling was aghast and said she would never!

Mother-spider tried to comfort her daughter, saying; When you grow up, big and hungering, then you will understand.

But the little spiderling was determined, and declared; 'in that case, I will never grow up!'

She scuttled away as fast as she could, the stomps of her mother's eight clawed feet close behind her. But our brown little spiderling was clever, for it was up she sped until she finally reached the top of a tall tree.

There, she made a sail from her webs and leapt into the night, letting a fair wind carry her little body far far away into the world of men where her mother would not chase her. She was weeping and alone, but dauntless.

Fate alighted her upon a stoney windowsill where, peaking inside, she found the children. They slept peacefully within, unaware of her and the danger she had braved. Not wanting to be by herself, she made a web in the corner of their bedroom to watch over them always.

Morning broke and the children's mother came to wake them. But this morning their rousing was not gentle, for she screamed at the sight of the spider in the corner!

The children all jumped in terror, seeking for the source of danger. And the little spider cowered as their mother raised a broom to strike!

But one of the children, though spooked and sleepy, looked and saw the morning dew drops that glimmered on the little spider's web, and remembered their friend immediately!

So recalled, the children all grasped the broom handle and their mother was disarmed as they begged her to spare their playmate, 'She is a kindly spider!' they cried, 'you must let her be!'

Mother relented, even as the children gathered about the little spider and welcomed her, and she told them all of what had happened and they were heartily moved.

"You must stay here with us then!" Declared the eldest, and his siblings all agreed. Mother and Father were persuaded and so the little spider had a home again and all was well, for a time.

As the days went by she caught little buzzing flies and biting breekers and stinging gnats in her webs, for which the children thanked her graciously.

And every night she said to herself 'I will never grow up! Never!'

Yet grow she did... She grew bigger and bigger, and hungrier and hungrier, until she feared one day her hunger would be sated by flies and breekers and gnats no longer.

Eventually, the children found their friend cowering under their beds, and they asked her what was wrong.

"I am growing up!" she lamented.

"Well of course you are, so are we." They chorused, confused.

"But if I grow up, then we can no longer be friends, for I will wish to eat you!"

All agreed this to be bad, though the children were at a loss what to do. They could not ask their mother or father, for surely if they heard such a thing they would throw the little spider away on the spot! But something had to be done.

In the end the eldest once again drew on his extra year of wisdom.

"When we want for something, we hope that Fate will be kind enough to make it so."

"Fate?" Asked the spider.

"Yes. 'May it be that my brothers and sisters are well' we say."

"What if it is not so?"

The eldest thought again.

"Mother says that even sorrows can be blessings in disguise."

"That does not make sense." Whined the spider and began to weep once more.

"Come come," the children soothed, one offering their hand to hold her, which she sadly accepted. "Let us still try."

And so together the children and the spider did plead with the Powers of Fate; "May it be that the little spider never outgrows her friends, nor her corner web, nor her little flies and breekers and gnats."

The little spider said it most desperately of all, though she had no hope it would help her plight.

Yet such was the kindness of her heart and the earnestness of her pleading, that one night a western wind came breezing through the children's window.

It stirred the little spider until the breeze became a gust and she had to cling on to her strings with all her might! But on it's train their came the softest of whispers; 'thou desirest to remain as thou art, little spider? To renounce the darkness of thine mothers?'

The little spider, though buffeted by the wind, managed nonetheless to answer as loud as she could; 'Yes! I wish that most of all things!'

'So shall it be' the voice said, and in a moment the wind was gone and the world was forever changed.

And that is the tale of the Good Little Spider, mother to all little spiders thereafter.

[floustian]

excuse me I just need to set the record on Anarion straight before Amazon gets their hands on him EC HECH! HEM!! (tucks hair behind ear) wow you have a sun-name? And you embody those aspects of the feminine sun with your whole body and soul as set out in the realities of your world, being both a man for humanity and having it burned into your being to nurture? To tend and grow and allow your people to flourish in the light as you battle the darkness? To sit in place and protect the home you made, forgotten and sidelined by histories in favour of the brother and father who could not be more distant from the conflict you were left too? Are you being burned with the house? Did you clutch the anxious babe of a new country, born into the world in calamity, personally victimised by divine judgement and abandoned by god but not by you to your chest and comforted it’s fears and gently guided it out of the circle of your arms and into its own? Just like you did to your own born baby son on the cataclysmic squall of the high sea as God Himself broke and twisted and compressed the world into a new shape with his own hands? Wow… girlmode of you, the transgender is leaping out.

[floustian]

I have a question for a fanfic I am writing. What would be the native language of the Southlanders like Bronwyn and Theo? Would it be something related to a Southron language, or would it be a dialect of Adûnaic, or something else entirely?? I tried to do some research about it, but I could not find much. Thanks!!

OKAY SO well this is essentially your initial issue; Southlanders as the concept given in RoP do not have a particular basis in canon, in so far as there is no mention of elves taking the surviving servants of Morgoth and putting them all somewhere to live together under elven watch.

And it's a tricky thing to puzzle out, because the men who fell under Morgoth's control were all from different cultures themselves. And they came under his sway by different origins. Many were yoked by Morgoth even at the very earliest point of their awakening, the First Age was only about 700 years long and men awoke at the very beginning of it so they were incredibly new to the world and vulnerable, having cultures defined down borders of 'where they awoke' rather than a rich history.

But if you wanted to try and simplify it, you could say the men under Morgoth's control were in two camps; those that fell in 'Hildorien' (place to the far east and south where Men first awoke, not on any maps) and those that fell after journeying west to Beleriand in an attempt to escape Morgoth.

Those in Hildorien were probably from a vast number of different cultures, but they are all likely broadly lumped together under the title of 'Haradrim' or Southrons. Those in Beleriand were also probably individuals from many of the different Houses of men there, captured or afraid and accepting service in exchange for their lives. But the largest defined group to betray the elves and serve Morgoth were the House of Ulfang (not even actually his true name, rather a pejorative term given by Sindar elves, literally the names of him and all his sons just mean ugly something in Sindarin and we dont know their real names I hate elves) and they were essentially proto-easterlings.

Canonically speaking, the remnants of Ulfang's house fled into Eriador and beyond and eventually developed and merged into a variety of other people groups, but if we're going with show-canon where all these disparate peoples were gathered together and essentially forced to make a new community then the initial languages would be;

Whatever Ulfang's people spoke

However many languages the Haradrim brought with them

Just a lil smattering of Taliska

A flavour of the Haladin's language, MAYBE bringing with them some Drug (language of the druedain)

In short, it's a mess. To be honest, I suspect rather than let them sort it out themselves, the elves somewhat forcibly taught them Sindarin (this actually might also be the language many of the Beleriand-originating men had in common considering we know some of them learned it to converse with elves and the Edain). Especially since we see Arondir speaking the same 'English' language with the Southlanders as he does with his Captain and elven friends.

However, Bronwyn mentions interacting with Traders. But... fuckin... aaaa this relies so heavily on whether or not Pelargir is an abandoned ruin in show canon or if it's still populated by a Numenorean/Mountaineers mix but if they are trading with mannish settlements and Adunaic is a spoken current language in Pelargir, Umbar and other coastal numenorean holdouts, then Proto-Westron is already likely somewhat popular. Though that depends entirely upon which direction these Traders are coming from. It's likely that Bronwyn knows several languages in order to interact with different traders coming from all cardinal directions.

Essentially I suspect the southlanders are speaking a dialect of Sindarin, as expressed by them all having these thick british-northern accents but still being understood and understanding Arondir's more received pronunciation version. And then perhaps each settlement has preserved to varying degrees their own specific language of origin, depending on where they come from.

[floustian]

HISTORY UNPRAISED: FAITHFUL HARADRIM

«…evil labours with vast power and perpetual success – in vain: preparing always only the soil for unexpected good to sprout in…» - J.R.R. Tolkien.

@lotr20 LOTRWEEK: Day 1: memory | history | home

Although it can also be almost any day ❤ I'm constantly thinking about Faithful people of South and East: What did they have to face? How hard their inner struggles had been? What songs did they sing and who their heroes were? We can only guess but it’s important to remember this part of the story, I believe. I'm trying to speak to others through my art and humbly remind them that: ✔ There were Faithful among peoples of South and East. ✔ There were heroes fighting and dying for the sake of better future for their children. ✔ And their role shouldn’t be lessened. And finally, let me recall a famous Aragorn’s quote:

Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.

I painted this one thinking of all the things written above. And the image wouldn't leave my mind until I portrayed it. Thus couple of lines become a "living human being", with a gray-eyed gaze. Mixed marriage? Numenorian heritage? I'll leave to your liking. Ifocus on Near Harad for now but am going to gradually make more art about Far Harad, Rhun\Khand, Numenorian expansion and all the things related to the complicated history of Middle-Earth. PS I strongly believe that different tribes of men wore different colors – not sticking to red ’n’ black hues. PPS Pardon my English - I'm not a native speaker ❤