#I hope he is not just the last king of Numenor to you… but a slimeball as well

[littlestpersimmon]

Ar-pharazôn, Tar-mairon

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

Ok, so I apparently internalized almost nothing when I read this book in high school. And although I have learned a lot about what you can and cannot get away with in both written and cinematic media in 11 years of higher education...SOMEHOW THIS MAN LITERALLY GOT AWAY WITH "And then the Mirkwood Elves walked Gollum on sunny days" AND NOBODY MENTIONS IT BECAUSE THAT IS TOO RIDICULOUS FOR WORDS!!! So I guess let's talk chapter 2, "The Council of Elrond," because otherwise I'm going to keep yelling about how we just casually skated over Legolas walking the Gollum.

Ok, so this is a long-ass chapter that is mostly everybody putting together narrative puzzle pieces in real time. It's practically a TTRPG. So we're just going to make this easy and chunk this reaction out by narrative, because after Gandalf puts the kibosh on Frodo going on a leisurely hike around Rivendell, we end up in this council for almost 50 pages. Although apparently even TOLKIEN knew that he had to keep this shit moving--such as it does, at a snail's pace--because he explicitly says right at the too of the chapter that "Not all that was spoken and debated in the Council need now be told." So basically, this is the Sparknotes version of the meeting, and it STILL feels long.

But I guess we're starting with Gloin, whose tale was apparently new to Frodo. I knew about the mission to Moria and how Balin, Ori, and Oin have been missing for THIRTY GODDAMN YEARS because we covered that at the party in the last chapter, or at least enough of it to get by. What was SUPER NEW was that apparently Sauron has weirdly good information about the dwarves and what Thorin and Co. were doing in The Hobbit, because a YEAR ago, a messenger from Mordor rocked up to Dain's mountain going, "Hey, Sauron wants to be BFFS, and also what do you know about these things called hobbits?" Why is Sauron asking the dwarves? Because, says the messenger, "Sauron knows [...] that one of these was known to you on a time."

First of all, I appreciate that we aren't going to get every single little piece of info here, but...HOW THE TITMONKEYS DID SAURON RANDOMNLY KNOW THAT DAIN KNEW A HOBBIT but absolutely nothing else about either Bilbo in particular or hobbits in general? This seems like a weirdly realistic information hole to have, but given the depth of the rest of the information we're about to get in this chapter, it feels a smidge hand-wavy. Anyway, the TLDR for Gloin is that they want to warn Bilbo, ask Elrond WTAF is this ring Sauron is being coy about, and get some help ASAP because King Brand is about to fold like a house of cards. Which honestly? I gotta give the dwarves props for understanding their own internal politics that clearly and being willing to cop to weak points. Although then Elrond throws one hell of a wet towel on things:

"You have done well to come," said Elrond. "You will hear today all that you need in order to understand the purposes of the Enemy. There is naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without it."

Cheery, Elrond, thanks for that. And even if he DOES follow it up with "But you do not stand alone," I'm not entirely sure that this is the moment to be brutally honest about there not being anything to do but hold the line.

This is followed up by a Middle Earth history lesson from Elrond that even TOLKIEN glosses over, since it spans the history of Sauron and the Rings of Power, Sauron's betrayal, the history of the One Ring, the entire history of Numenor, Elendil and his coming, the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and the prologue of the Fellowship film. We get a little more detail about Isildur taking up the ring--as a weregild, apparently--but otherwise the TLDR here is that the victory was...y'know, ok, but not permanent or all-encompassing.

And then Elrond KEEPS GOING to tell us about how Gondor endured, rose to something that echoed Numenor's greatness (the SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE of the word choice there is just savage though; like way to damn Gondor with faint praise), and then declined as Sauron re-powered; he also recounts the loss of Minas Ithil and the pseudo-loss of Osgiliath.

Which is about when Boromir pops up because Elrond insufficiently praised Gondor, and also he needs to impress on everyone how close Gondor is to ACTUALLY falling. We're going to yaddah yaddah over this first little bit, because the key piece that brought Boromir to the council was a dream that both he and Faramir had that encompassed the following wee bit of a poem:

Seek for the Sword that was broken; In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be show a token That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand.

I don't know who controls dream visions in Middle Earth, but thank you to whoever it is for being this blunt, because humans are kinda dumb sometimes, but even they should be able to do the basics of interpretation and interpolation required in the context of the Council to go "Oh cool, we gotta send a Hobbit."

Especially since the next words out of Elrond and Gandalf are "Show them the Ring, Frodo the halfling." Unfortunately for whoever is doing dream visions in Middle Earth, Boromir is both tense, stressed, and Gondor-centric AF, because his immediate reaction is "Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last?" Which...HONEY...

"The words were not the doom of Minas Tirith," said Aragorn.

Literally, someone needs to get a necromancer up in here because I want to know which students (or possibly fellow faculty members) Tolkien was channeling for this exchange. Literally anyone who has ever been in a university classroom has watched this exchange play out, and I'm now having Vietnam flashbacks to the time I asked a class of students how to identify German Expressionism in a film and one kid piped up, "The actor's names are German."

Reader, that is not the answer.

But back to Middle Earth, because Aragorn has just been a sassypants at Boromir, and Boromir returns the favor by questioning Aragorn's lineage, at which point BILBO pops up and I read the next poem in Arwen's voice because Peter Jackson gave it to her in the third movie:

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.

So we don't really need the most famous bit of verse from LOTR repeated here, except that I think it's pretty and also in context it's fucking HILARIOUS. Boromir was like, "Sure, we'd take help from the line of Elendil...IF WE HAD ONE" and Bilbo pops up with a SELF-WRITEN POEM and everyone--including Elrond--is just like, "Yeah, seems legit."

That is the equivalent of a lawyer showing up in court, reciting Rudyard Kipling, and everyone just...accepting that as a rational argument that supports the defendant's position. This is so absolutely ludicrous as to verge on farcical and I honestly kind of love it. BOROMIR doesn't even question it, we just kind of accept Aragorn's bona fides and move on...to Aragorn basically going "we Rangers do ten times the work that Gondor does for a tenth of the respect and recognition you get, and we wouldn't have it any other way, so SIT THE FUCK DOWN."

Boromir very reasonably drops his beef with Aragorn here and switches to "How the fuck do we know that this is the ring? Where are the receipts?" And the receipts are...basically Bilbo retelling the "Riddles in the Dark" chapter from The Hobbit and Frodo recounting his life with the Ring, which get glossed over because WE HAVE ALL BEEN READING THE BOOK UP TO THIS POINT.

This is where we get a new and quite interesting question though:

Galdor of the Havens, who sat nearby, overheard him. "You speak for me also," he cried, and turning to Elrond he said: "The Wise may have good reason to believe that the halfling's trove is indeed The Great Ring of long debate, unlikely though that may seem to those who know less. But may we not hear the proofs? And I would ask this also. What of Saruman? He is learned in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel - if he knows the things that we have heard?"

A damn reasonable couple of questions here. I'd also want more proof than two hobbits, and I'd also be SUPER wondering where the Ring expert was, since the Ring is the main subject of this whole meeting. So this is where we finally hear what Gandalf was up to for the majority of the first half of the book, while Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were hauling ass out of the Shire.

So, I am deeply used to and familiar with Christopher Lee's Saruman, but one of the few things I internalized from reading this book in high school was that Saruman was super not chill when Gandalf called him "the White" and was from this point on self-referentially called "of Many Colors." I also remember him being a freaking drama-llama. What I did NOT remember was that he confidently said, "Into Anduin the Great it fell; and long ago, while Sauron slept, it was rolled down the River to the Sea."

WHICH EXPLAINS WHY NOBODY THOUGHT THE ONE RING WAS IN PLAY FOR SO MANY YEARS!!! Because while everyone knew that the Ring betrayed Isildur and bailed in the river, only those of us who had read The Hobbit or the early chapters of this book knew that it hadn't actually made it to the fucking sea! There was a (sport metaphor of choice about interception or interference or whatever here) from Deagol and Smeagol! Which makes it kind of hilarious that the Ring has been in hobbity hands all this time, and Sauron just...didn't know hobbits even existed. Because life is often stranger than fiction.

Then we get a rehash of Gandalf's research trips and field work to try to track down information about the ring, and a lot of this we got in earlier chapters when Gandalf was giving Frodo the cliffnotes version in the Shire. Had I been the editor on this book, I would have strongly recommended we do a little less retreading of this ground, but apparently Tolkien was anti-editor, so I'm just going to skip to end when Gandalf and Aragorn are like, "So we handed Gollum over to the Mirkwood Elves, and he's still imprisoned there to this day."

At which point Legolas immediately pops up with "Um, so actually, we fucked up. We were walking the Gollum dog and he escaped. Our bad." Which all and Sundry generally agree is a bad thing, except for Gloin, who has a REALLY DAMN GOOD POINT when he says, "'You were less tender to me,' said Gloin, with a flash of his eyes, as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the Elven-king's halls." Thorin and Co. did not get their daily walkies, and that's a valid point. Gandalf full-on silences Gloin here, and that is wildly uncool of him, because again, Elf-Dwarf racism is real and he probably shouldn't invalidate Gloin's experience.

Reading this book again is REALLY damaging my love of Gandalf, I have got to say...

So skipping over the well-known attempted turning of Gandalf by Saruman and the eagles thing (I am not talking about the eagles. Find another corner of the internet to yell about that in), we get a first look at Rohan! Gandalf needed a horse to get back to Frodo, and Rohan is apparently Middle Earth's Horses R Us. Unfortunately, they're besieged by the forces of the enemy, they're paying tithes to Mordor in horses, and Theoden is probably starting to fall under the sway of Wormtongue at this point. So Gandalf gets the wonderful Shadowfax from Rohan, who is APPARENTLY A CAMOFLAUGE HORSE:

And there is one among them that might have been foaled in the morning of the world. The horses of the Nine cannot vie with him; tireless, swift as the flowing wind. Shadowfax they called him. By day his coat glistens like silver; and by night it is like a shade and he passes unseen.

I am not a horse girl (horse smell is gross), but even I can appreciate a color-changing horse that lets you haul ass across the world unseen at night. Good horse. *Pats him awkwardly on the head.*

And then we get MORE expansion of information we already largely know or could extrapolate from the available data--seriously, did NO ONE have the balls to tell Tolkien he could get repetitive?--before we come to the vital question: We have the Ring; what the hell do we do with it?

I will say that I appreciate that Gandalf knows Tom Bombadil well enough to know that he would be THE WORST possible guard for the Ring and shoots that idea down fast.

I also found it really interesting that Glorfindel was super ride-or-die for the idea of actually yeeting the Ring into the ocean, as if putting it back on the course it started when it betrayed Isildur would somehow put everything right. As if the intercept by hobbits was the problem, and not that the Ring itself is the receptacle of all evil in Middle Earth. Like, points for trying, my dude, but I'm pretty sure that magic trumps the crushing pressure of the depths of the sea floor and Sauron could summon that shit back if he really put his mind to it.

Elrond is correct that we have to yeet the Ring into the volcano, and he is equally correct that the task is appointed to Frodo. It just takes everyone a hot minute to get there because everyone keeps trying to avoid volunteering or handing the Ring off to someone who would be DANGEROUSLY powerful with it.

Bilbo's attempt to volunteer was super heartwarming and cute, but I'm with literally everyone else in the room that he's too old and the Ring wouldn't have it anyway. So Frodo volunteers, and Sam absolutely pops up, because he'll be DAMNED if he's leaving Master Frodo <3 <3 <3

HOO BOY, that was a long one, and there was a lot of graduate-level contextualizing, adding of detail, and citing of sources, because apparently Tolkien can't get away from his academic roots even when he's writing about nine dudes on a quest to melt down some jewelry. I don't mind thorough, but I'd be lying if I said that chunks of this didn't feel like unnecessary repetition. At the very least though, we have made it through this chapter, and that's about where I'm going to leave it this time. It looks like next time we'll be picking up to really get this quest moving though, and I'm looking forward to setting out with our fellowship!

[southfarthing]

I've been having thoughts on the similarities between Elrond and Faramir for a while, and I finally tried to write my thoughts in some very vaguely coherent manner!!! I wrote this for an instagram post with the prompt 'kings', so I touch on that too - didn't want to take it out. but yeah enjoy!

Elrond

Elrond and Elros are the last descendants of the Kings of the Noldor and the Sindar (two of the three groups of elves), as well as of several lords of men. But while Elros chooses to be a man and becomes the first King of Númenor, Elrond chooses to remain an elf, and does not claim kingship. 

It is said that ‘The hands of the king are the hands of a healer’: Aragorn, when he enters Minas Tirith to heal Faramir, Eowyn and Merry, says, ‘Would that Elrond were here, for he is the eldest of all our race, and has the greater power.’

While Turgon builds Gondolin as a hidden fortress that locks good in, Elrond builds the Last Homely House as a welcoming haven that keeps evil out. While Thingol’s kingdom falls apart because of his greed and his feud with dwarves, Elrond gladly lets them stay in Rivendell and does not lay claim on Glamdring, the sword that belonged to Turgon his ancestor.

Faramir

Faramir is the rightful Steward of Gondor after the deaths of his father and brother. At this point, the return of the King is a distant dream for the reality of most Gondorians: Faramir is the hope of Gondor.

Here was one with an air of high nobility such as Aragorn at times revealed, less high perhaps, yet also less incalculable and remote: one of the Kings of Men born into a later time, but touched with the wisdom and sadness of the Elder Race. He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings. - Pippin's first impression of Faramir when all of Minas Tirith is cheering as Faramir returns to the city <3

Faramir & Elrond

Both:

Have lost a brother who was more the tereotypical king/warrior-type, while they themselves are more the scholar-type. 

Are less eager yet longer serving and successful leaders of their people.

Fight and lead armies, but don’t thirst for battle.

Elrond has foresight; Faramir sees the prophetic dream that should have sent him to Rivendell instead of Boromir (and seems to be the higher powers’ first choice, as he sees it numerous times before Boromir does).

Elrond establishes Rivendell as a place of refuge and healing; Faramir hopes to have a garden in Ithilien after the war.

Elrond serves as Gil-galad's herald; Faramir serves as steward to Aragorn's kingdom.

Both have been said to have a wise, wizardly air:

He was as noble and as fair in face as an elf lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves and as kind as summer.

‘Ah well, sir,’ said Sam, ‘you said my master had an Elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of – well, Gandalf, of wizards.’

to conclude:

no brain but i just think elrond and faramir should be best friends. and gandalf can hang out with them too. they should sit in the minas tirith archives and elrond can tell stories of numenor and faramir can listen with tears in his eyes yeah you get it <3

also I drew elrond's colour-coded family tree FROM SCRATCH for literally no reason so adding it under the cut because damn that took a while

[afaramir]

elrond and elros and earendil [hamilton voice] and faramir! i must know about this!!!!!

oh man a concept that puts my brain cells in a claw machine… (@sweetshire asked about this one too so ria this is 4 u as well<3) i knew i was gonna be building to this scene the whole time from the moment faramir crossed the borders of rivendell and i hope i executed it well. i locked onto eldritch numenoreans as a concept so intensely and it’s just so important to me that not only are they obviously strange but they LOOK weird as fuck. like no that isn’t quite an elf but they’re DEFINITELY not some normal guy. so faramir sees elrond for the first time and he sees elros, preserved through time. and elrond sees faramir and he sees elros in his face and it breaks his fucking heart! :). and also faramir has dreamt of numenor all his life right. and elros was the first king of numenor...who followed the light of gil-estel the north star to find his promised land...and who carries that star...earendil his father.......YOU KNOW??? it makes me feel crazy. like that is a literal real connection that they all have.

the air seems to shimmer about him as he turns, the light radiating from his very skin, star-like even in the bright sunlight. faramir raises his head, prepares to meet the lord with all the reverence he knows. and then he sees his face, and all his breath leaves him in an instant. he knows this face. has known it all his life, as close to his as any kin. its carven gaze stares down from a hundred statues in minas tirith, and chief of them all the face of the steward, as it had been in faramir’s youth, now so distant of a memory. dark-haired, grey-eyed, noble and kind and true. the echo of a choice made thousands of years ago. elros tar-minyatur brought to life. “my lord elrond,” he says, through a mouth dry as the desert. drops to a knee, overcome. ever since he had stepped past the borders of this land he has walked through his most beloved legends, and yet his mind now cannot believe what he sees. here now is the scion of gil-estel, the one son of that star who will endure past the breaking of the world. and faramir is only the most distant of relations but in this moment he is as númenórean as he has ever been. time and space and the changing of the world separate him from the sons of eärendil, yet all this time he has followed in the footsteps of his greatest forebear, seeking starwards.

this is also very like…dont worry professor tolkien i saw that everyone you think is hot looks exactly like your wife. dont worry i ALSO think they’re hot. u can rest now.gif.

“we remember the first king of númenor, in gondor,” says faramir softly. “there are fewer, now, who know the old tales. but elros tar-minyatur will be last to be forgotten, ere the white city fall and the world end.” a gentle smile blooms across the lord elrond’s face. he does not weep, but in the lines of his face lies a sorrow so large and ancient that faramir can hardly conceive of it. “i do you no more honour than you deserve. i did not think to look to the stewards of gondor, to steward my brother’s memory. now i see that i have long been mistaken. the memory of númenor yet lives on in the men of the south.” “my lord,” is all faramir can think to say. he had not thought he would find so many reminders of home, so far from it, in this land where there truly are none like him. or so he had believed. he will never know tar-minyatur and yet something of that lord of legend lives on in him. when he looks far enough into the grey horizon, into times and futures that have not yet come to pass, there is a part of him that looks through those ancient eyes. the first king of númenor lives on in the streets of gondor, in the quiet of the standing silence, in the tales of the West passed first from his father to himself, and then from him to his men, weaving stories late into the night in the glow of the fire. yet of his brother he knows little, and he is nothing like he had imagined. he had expected distant, remote lordship, not untouchable like a statue but untouchable like a star. gil-estel, after all, shines cold and bright each night over ithilien. to be the immortal scion of the north star - it is a burden that could freeze any heart. yet in the scant time they have stood here, around the lord elrond’s feet, flowers have begun to grow.

its also like an Elrond Learning Moment. the blood of numenor is spent situation at the council in the book versus what i, PERSONALLY, know about the blood of numenor being alive and fucking well is always soooo....elrond i Love You but that was a pretty crazy thing to say. and now here he is realizing and acknowledging and reevaluating his biases. yeah this is my i am fixing something about canon moment. i just think elrond and faramir should Understand Each Other.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Discord Highlights: The Fellowship of the Dudes

[4/28/23]

InvisibleWashboard:

I have a head canon that one of Merry's sons in particular had to be taught to swim early because the kid was OBSESSED with any and all things to do with water. Estella was afraid to ever let him out of her sight for fear he would end up drowned before he could even walk.

meg is me:

Imagine merry desires his kids to be Equestrians and good old Stybba bears many a baby Brandybuck rider To Merry's dismay bby Eomer HATES ponies

InvisibleWashboard:

Eomer is the son that loves the water in my head.

[4/29/23]

Writing Valkyrie:

I was thinking last night, and I'd like to think that surfing was big in Numenor. Elros and his Queen made it a family tradition, and the whole populace really took to it. It died off a bit with the King's Men, deeming it not worth their time, something only the Faithful indulged in. Now adays, it only survives in Dol Amroth. And can be found in Alqualondë It took Thorongil some time to learn it, but once he did, Prince Imrahil never beat him again.

On the first diplomatic trip the High King makes to Dol Amroth, Imrahil demands a rematch. "Lets get barreled, dude!" -Imrahil (probably) "Yeah, dude, lets go shred some waves!" Aragorn (also probably) "Don't forget to reapply your sun balm." -Arwen (definitely)

Rumor has it, that the King is set to take the title of "Surf Champion" from the previous master, Thorongil.

InvisibleWashboard:

Someone who can draw please draw Aragorn as a surfer dude, I am begging.

Writing Valkyrie:

Shaka sign and everything.

InvisibleWashboard:

Does Arwen participate/get good at it? I feel like Legolas would be decent when he comes to visit.

Writing Valkyrie:

She'd be very graceful at it, and soon comes to surpass her husband.

InvisibleWashboard:

Mmmm. Yes. Very good.

Writing Valkyrie:

Legolas would just do handstands on the board. Or shoot targets while shredding the waves.

InvisibleWashboard:

I like the idea of him showing off with handstands. I know canonically he doesn’t have siblings but he has SUCH youngest sibling energy and handstands on the board is very much a youngest brother thing, I think.

Writing Valkyrie:

He can even do 'em one handed "Look ada!" The Good Surfer gene runs in the Olwë/Elwë bloodline.

Gimli would just like to enjoy the sunshine, thank you very much.

InvisibleWashboard:

Who else gives it a go? Faramir? Eowyn? Would Boromir from the Boromir Lives comic have tried?

I’m obsessed with this idea now.

Writing Valkyrie:

Boromir would give it a try, but he'd surf like the old timers that just kinda stand and just ride it out.

Eowyn and Faramir would boogey-board.

Lothiriel is a pro at surfing. Eomer would like nothing with that thank you very much, but he will just get in the water and float a bit.

Imrahil kinda hopes that [Lothiriel would] surpass Aragorn, but she just enjoys it for the fun of it and not competition. Though if she did compete, everyone better watch out.

Elrond and Celebrian get into it a bit after Elrond sails, due to 1) Elros did it, 2) Arwen and Aragorn did it, and 3) Elladan and Elrohir enjoy it.

Though they steer clear of Galadriel, 'cause she absolutely shreds them waves.

Celeborn just like his floaties, thanks.

InvisibleWashboard:

Celeborn is such a trophy husband. I love him.

Writing Valkyrie:

Finrod thinks it's neat, and is the best at getting barreled.

But yes, surfing picks up again in the fourth age, and becomes a tradition of the royal families, that unites them all.

Me:

I haven’t read the Silmarillion, but based on Tarva’s comics, Finrod gives me such strong surfer dude vibes.

Writing Valkyrie:

I haven't read it yet, either, but maybe we're onto something. 😂 I mean, they did grow up on the beach. You can't tell me Earwen and Grandpa Olwe didn't teach the kids about the beach and the ocean.

Gandalf would do it sometimes, but he'd just stand on the board as if on dry land, staff and everything, riding it like it was a segway.

InvisibleWashboard:

Not to bring up stuff from yesterday, but Merry brings his family to visit and water obsessed Éomer is losing his mind over the surfing and wants to figure out a way to do something similar back in the Shire.

meg is me:

pippin is canonically good at balancing just throwing that out there

Writing Valkyrie:

He'd be good at it, but he'd ride goofy-footed.

ladyofgifts:

what if he's better at it than Merry so whenever they visit, Eomer sticks to him for the whole time going this is my Favorite Uncle

InvisibleWashboard:

Yes. So much yes.

meg is me:

Merry: gasp how rude eomer: dad you aren't my uncle Merry: i know but still

Me: (re: surfing in the Shire)

Hmm…okay, no way they’re gonna have wind strong enough to make waves on the Brandywine, but if they can get a dinghy going fast enough on a brisk day, they might be able to water ski! X-D

InvisibleWashboard:

Estella would hate that. So much. Merry would think it's great though.

Me:

If you’re ever lacking wind, you can always compensate by tying the prow to two ponies, one on either bank, on a narrow stretch of the river 🤣🤣

InvisibleWashboard:

What I'm picturing now is a bit closer to what I grew up doing with my brothers... if it got really muddy, we would tie a skimboard to the back of a four wheeler and ride/pull each other around on that. I could see little hobbits trying something similar with their ponies.

Me:

Oh the mess it would make. But how fun!

InvisibleWashboard:

Oh yes, so much dirt in places dirt is not supposed to be!

Me:

All I’m hearing is that Eomer Brandybuck is the first hobbit to move to Dol Amroth. Ostensibly it’s to be an ambassador on behalf of the Shire, but in actuality, it’s for the waves, bro.

InvisibleWashboard:

I'M OBSESSED.

Me:

Tolkien: Hobbits, as a rule, hate the water. Us: So this is our OC Eomer Brandybuck, he’s a hobbit surfer bro

chaosandwhatnot:

"this sign can't stop me because i can't read"

InvisibleWashboard:

No, you don't understand... Eomer wasn't even one of Merry's OC kids I was that interested in, but NOW...

Wait does he move out there by himself or does he have a family he brings with him? Does he form a small hobbit community outside of the Shire by doing this or does he just stay single forever because his heart only belongs to the sea?

Me:

“His heart only belongs to the Sea” sounds so beautiful and poetic and Tolkien-esque until we add the clarification “by that we mean he just really, really loves to surf”

Writing Valkyrie:

I'd love to say that he has a small family when he moves down there, along with some other like-minded hobbits, but I'd think that he'd also teach others, hobbit and non-hobbit, to surf, regardless if he's alone or not.

Kasey Gondor:

forms a community of inter-racial surfing enthusiasts. after Legolas leaves Ithilien some of the elves that were there join up. we'll get some dwarves down there too. everyone just intermingles. here we are not hobbits or men or elves or dwarves. but dudes. surfing dudes.

meg is me:

The Fellowship of the Dudes The other fellowship was male of course but not all of them were Dudes

Writing Valkyrie:

Come to Gondor, we have surfing. 🤣 And thus, peace was established with Harad, Khand, and Rhun.

Morgoth cannot surf. Evil does not like water -> They will not come to the ocean -> Cannot surf.

meg is me:

Truer words have never been spoken

[4/30/23]

Me:

InvisibleWashboard I believe you requested this yesterday X-D

InvisibleWashboard:

This is perfection. Thank you.

Writing Valkyrie is @writingvalkyrie, InvisibleWashboard is @invisiblewashboard, chaosandwhatnot is @grondds-and-roses, Kasey Gondor is @captaingondor, ladyofgifts is our beloved Zara, and meg is me does not have tumblr :-3

[sweetteaanddragons]

Body-Swap AU

(This is a snippet from a potential AU where Scion of Somebody Probably!Gil-Galad wakes up in the body of Rings of Power!Gil-Galad. He has questions.)

His best guess for what had happened was some kind of head injury. A fall from his horse, maybe, that had knocked the past . . . who knew how many years . . . out of his head.

But if that was what had happened, he would have expected to have woken up surrounded by worried healers, Elrond almost certainly among them.

Instead, Gil-Galad had woken up alone in a room that was almost, but not quite, like his own.

For one thing, he had entirely different paperwork waiting for him than he had the day before. More of it, not less, more’s the pity.

His second guess was that he had unexpectedly developed foresight, and that Elrond had done an unexpectedly terrible job of describing the experience.

Also unlikely.

Which left the last and final guess, which was that Gil-Galad had been captured by some remnant of their Enemy, and this was all some kind of horrible trap.

If his first guess was correct, he really needed to tell someone what had happened.

If his third guess was correct, he needed to play along until he understood what was happening and how to stop it.

“My king?”

He looked up from examining the letters on his desk. He couldn’t find any from Numenor, which was concerning. “Yes?”

. . . He didn’t recognize the woman hesitating in the doorway in the slightest. Hopefully she was his assistant and not his wife. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t have a wife that would insist on reminding him he was the king at all times.

She was also veiled, which was fine, but very much not the fashion in his last trustworthy memory.

Just how much memory had he lost?

Assuming, of course, he’d lost any at all.

“Have you an answer to Elrond’s request?”

Elrond, not Lord Elrond, so the two must be close.

. . . and that was the only clue he had. He was either going to have to confess everything or make this decision blind.

He had never in his life decided to confess everything, and this was Elrond; acceding to his requests would rarely lead him too far astray. “I have decided to grant it.”

She appeared slightly startled.

He hoped rather desperately that he hadn’t just approved a three year mission to go hunting down Maglor. If he was going to manage this juggernaut, he’d really rather have Elrond beside him.

“I will tell him to prepare for the meeting, then, my lord,” she said and curtseyed before exiting.

A meeting. Good. There was certainly no harm in allowing Elrond to go to a meeting.

. . . why had Elrond felt the need to apply for special permission to attend a meeting?

Or, well, good manners, probably. Elrond was good about those.

But why on Arda would anyone be surprised that he had approved said request? Gil-Galad was of the firm opinion that most meetings were improved by Elrond’s presence, since it ensured there was at least one sensible person among the lot, and he conducted his invitations to meetings accordingly.

There were a few issues it might be awkward to have Elrond present for - if, for instance, they were declaring war on Numenor - but he couldn’t imagine justifying the decision to exclude Elrond to anyone. If they were going to war with Numenor, Elrond was certainly going to want to have his say, and there were at least three major factions among the elves that would aggressively back his right to have it, and they’d be right to; awkward or not, Elrond was their leading expert on all things Numenor, and Gil-Galad would be a fool to disregard his advice.

Also, under no circumstances was Gil-Galad declaring war on Numenor. If they wanted war, they could very well go and declare it themselves.

. . . for once, his paperwork was actually looking appealing, considering that it was his best potential source for answers that wouldn’t judge him.

A dedicated search revealed that he was apparently planning to withdraw forces from the south, to host a feast tonight, and, for some reason, to get personally involved in the welfare of a tree.

He could still find absolutely nothing about Numenor, which at least meant they probably weren’t about to go to war with them but did raise some other concerning questions.

At the very bottom of the stack, he found an outline for a speech that was apparently meant to be given before the feasting tonight. Small notes to himself were scribbled in the margins. Unfortunately, the full speech was nowhere to be found, but he had done more with less before. A quick skim would -

He stopped.

Reread.

Reread a third time because surely he was misreading this.

Apparently, he was sending Galadriel back to Aman.

Given the tone of his notes to himself, this was despite the fact that she was not at all inclined to go.

That the Valar could have retracted their ban in the untold amount of time he had forgotten, he could believe; but this -

It had never been policy to send elves west against their will. Even if it had been, he certainly wouldn’t have tried it on Galadriel; he was king, certainly, but there was no power so absolute that you could afford to be monumentally stupid about it.

New theory: his future self had gone crazy, and the Valar had sent him into the future to prevent another kinslaying among the Noldor. They certainly hadn’t gone to such trouble before, but it was a new age. Maybe they were trying new things.

Alternatively, he really had been captured by some remnant of Enemy, and said remnant had a truly warped view of how Noldorin politics worked.

Which was almost reassuring, except in how very horrifyingly plausible it was. Why would a former servant of Morgoth’s know what it was like to live under a king of the elves who had to balance the competing claims of a half dozen fractious factions? Why wouldn’t such a servant think that casting out a political player who had been causing waves would be a perfectly plausible thing to do?

Right. So.

He’d almost certainly been captured. His captor almost certainly had no idea he knew this. The goal of this little game was unclear; maybe his captor was hoping Gil-Galad would reveal information, maybe he was just hoping to keep Gil-Galad trapped in a dream while he was being transported so that he wouldn’t fight.

Regardless, Gil-Galad’s duty was clear: find a way out.

And, in the meantime, give the performance of a lifetime.

[shipcestuous]

Never really considered Elrond/Arwen as a ship, but that anon's message and your reply to it reminded that I HAD thought of them in hypothetical "this sounds like a love triangle" terms before.

So, here's a couple of details I hope you guys will appreciate!

In the movie, Elrond looks like a stern, mature, authoritative figure in contrast with Arwen's youthful beauty. In the book, however, they're both said to possess an ageless beauty, looking neither young nor old. Book!Elrond has the wise, venerable air of an old king but the vigor of a young hero, as well as a beautiful face and an appreciation for both merriment and pleasant things (good food, good music, comfortable rest, etc.) and quieter, more introspective moments. Book!Arwen, with her lustrous black hair, grey eyes glittering like stars, smooth and soft white skin, and stark resemblance to Luthien (Arwen's ancestor and possibly the fairest Elven maiden in Middle-earth's history, to whom Arwen is said to be so similar, she could pass for her reincarnation) actually looks so much like him that Frodo figures out they must be related in some way at first glance.

Elrond had a wife, Celebrian, who gave him three children: twins Elladan and Elohir, and then Arwen, the only daughter. Tragically, Celebrian was captured and tortured by orcs, and while her sons later rescued her and she recovered from the physical injuries, Elrond never managed to help her mind heal from the trauma. So, eventually, she sailed to the West, hoping to find peace in Valinor. I'm not sure how old Arwen would be by that point, but I could imagine her stepping in to take on her mother's duties as the lady of the house in some capacity, leading to potentially suggestive scenarios. I could also imagine her trying to console both her father and her brothers, telling them that what happened to Celebrian wasn't their fault and helping them face the sad truth that they simply couldn't have done more for her.

From The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen in LOTR's Appendices: "And [Arwen] stood then as still as a white tree, looking into the West, and at last she said: "I will cleave to you, [Aragorn], and turn from the Twilight. Yet there lies the land of my people and the long home of all my kin." She loved her father dearly." 'Nuff said. Beautiful juxtaposition whether you ship them or not.

Aragorn himself is both distantly related to them and was essentially raised (at least in part) by Elrond. For the former, as the last descendant of the kings of Numenor, his bloodline actually started with Elros, Elrond's twin brother who, when faced with the choice between Elves and Men due to his half-elven nature, chose mortality. For the latter, when Aragorn was only two years old, his father Arathorn was killed by orcs, so his mother Gilraen took him and went to Rivendell, where Elrond took care of Aragorn as if he were one of his sons and only revealed his true name and heritage to him when he was twenty. Unfortunately, what could have been a sweet foster/adoptive brosis romance was thwarted by... Arwen spending that whole time on a visit to her grandmother Galadriel (yup, she's Celebrian's mom!) and missing out on Aragorn growing up, only coming back when he was already a young adult. Still, Elrond is less opposed to Aragorn marrying Arwen in the book, worrying about her marrying a man of lower birth than her (Elrond's has a VERY illustrious family!) and a mortal at that but being more accepting of their love (after all, Luthien herself fell for the mortal Beren and never backed down on her decision in spite of a long strings of hardships, dangers, and deaths), so it couldn't be too far off to imagine him being at least somewhat moved by the idea of his "son" making his daughter happy.

So many great details, Anon. Thank you!

The love triangle vibes are so amusing. I love the idea of Arwen stepping in as a substitute mom. And yeah, the movie depicted Elrond in a certain way, but just because he's older than Arwen doesn't mean he's old. He's not even an especially old elf, compared to someone like Galadriel, right?

[amethysttribble]

Caught at Low Tide

Hey, @aeondelirium  (or rather, @aeondecember) I’m your Secret Santa! I hope enjoy this fic!!

Thank you to @officialtolkiensecretsanta for organizing this event!

Elrond mourns his brother, and so, naturally, he finds himself in the water and at the mercy of Ulmo, as his family always does in times of turmoil.

Today, the smells of muck and brine and smoke were thick in the sky. Everything felt heavy, weighed down by the oppressive moisture in the air that was trapped and pressed low by the dark gray clouds above. It wasn’t raining yet, though. No rain, but sharp wind, tumultuous wind.

“The king of Arda mourns,” Vardamir had said, eyes closed but lids fluttering, head tilted towards the stormy sky.

Elrond- and this was not his proudest moment- had snorted.

That certainly put a damper on the grim but glorious funeral proceedings of King Elros Tar-Minyatur. 

To think, the king’s Elven brother exhibiting obvious and loud disbelief at the idea of Manwe’s consideration. Disdain at the idea. 

And short-lived Men had so little personal experience with the Valar, they were so insecure and impressionable about if they were loved by Eru’s steward. Morgoth’s whispers still ran deep in their history and lore. Their fledgling faith lived on interpretable spectacle and small signs and little blessings. The weather probably was a sign from Manwe too! It was all just a harmless expression of grief and desire for comfort, and Elrond- 

Elros had always held so much respect and awe and love for the Valar after the War of the Wrath and Elrond successfully unwound a good bit of his work building trust for them in Numenor with one snort.

Stupid.

His nephew forgave him, though. How could he not? Vardamir was a father, a grandfather, and an eldest child. He was made of nothing but grace and patience for tempestuous youths.

Elrond did not feel like a youth. He wasn’t one, though the Elves eternally thought of him as Earendil and Elwing’s sad little boy, and the Men? His traitorous niece and nephews had aged to the point of graying and not respected him since. Even his little brother, in his last years, had treated him gently and sweetly, like he was a child.

It was humiliating, but what was more humiliating- Elrond felt as he sat in Elros’s chair in Elros’s study and felt small in the shadow of Elros’s death- was that he was validating them by acting like a child. 

Can’t I be forgiven today? he thought bitterly, twirling an eagle-feather quill that he gifted Elros in his hands. 

He already knew that he’d long since been forgiven for any indiscretion. He’d be forgiven anything this week. Fuck, but Elrond had been forgiven for everything his entire life, by everyone, with no hesitation, no quibbling, no reservations. Not even loving kinslayers or refusing the personal invitation of Manwe and Varda to join his parents in Valinor was beyond the good grace of Gil-galad and his court of the well-intentioned.

Ai, Elwing and Earendil’s little boy has suffered so much, give him time, we Elves have so much time.

Elros, though, noble Elros, Earendil and Elwing’s kingly son, he had not so much time and what wondrous things he did with it. He matured so quickly didn’t he?

But none of them- not the court of Lindon, not the children of Numenor whose predecessors had aged and turned over so many times the Elros was following in the wake of hundreds of his true friends, not even his nieces and nephews- knew Elros as Elrond had known him. They did not know him angry. They did not know him sad. They did not know him scared. They did not know him filled with regret and loss until his last, not nearly so unwavering as the many speeches given in his honor suggested.

My hands are shaking, Elros had said to him in their last private conversation together. I don’t know why. Fear? Excitement? Strain from hanging on? Or, perhaps it’s just death setting in.

He’d laughed.

All of that, maybe.

Elrond was taken with the urge to snap the quill in his hands in half. No one could get mad at him for that. He’d given this quill to Elros. No one could get mad at him for breaking it.

Slowly, Elrond set it back down.

He didn’t know why he was sitting here. Well, he did. He knew why. Vardamir wanted him to give a speech, and this was the only place where he might reasonably be left in peace to write one. The new king still balked at entering his father’s study. His siblings were not quite so deterred, but after Elrond glared Manwedil from the room, none had tried again to bring refreshments. 

Elrond didn’t want refreshments. He wanted to wail for his fucking brother, the version of him that only he knew. That was the only version of Tar-Minyatur he could think to write of, but no one wanted to hear of that boy.

An Elros who was not perfectly magnanimous, perfectly in control, perfectly at peace all the time? Perish the thought. No, really, perish it. The first King of Numenor could not be remembered as anything but perfect.

Whenever Elrond had complained about the spectacle he was currently living through to his brother in years leading up to his death- during the long planning of a funeral that wasn’t yet needed, something that still baffled Elrond- Elros had just smirked.

“Come now, I know you appreciate the importance of a good show. We were taught the same lessons after all.”

Yes, he had been, and Elrond was still sure that Maglor would find this week-long event just as macabre and odd as he did.

But Men were odd creatures. Well, at least as odd as Elves, but unlike the former, Elrond had never claimed to understand Men. He’d understood none but one, but through him- and Elros through Elrond- he’d felt like he’d understood the whole world. And now…

Now, Elrond pushed back from his brother’s chair to stand, and turned towards the large, open space at his back. Past two glass doors that were hardly ever closed was Elros’s ‘balcony’, though it was as large as a courtyard, strewn about with couches and chairs and braziers; cushions, tables, and children’s toys. There was a telescope mounted in one corner, a liquor cabinet in another. This is where Elros's family had practically lived. 

Deserted now, except for Elrond, at Elrond's own desire. He’d feel selfish for monopolizing this space in these days of mourning, which were different but no less hard for his nieces and nephews, but the weather was so bad. No one would want to sit out here anyway.

He meandered outside.

With the day so dark and gray and miserable, it was no wonder that it was starting to drizzle. Manwe must have had a hand in the weather, because this was truly how mournful days should look; all the poets and singers agreed. Strange then, how overcast always took Elrond back to days that made sense.

Back in the days where Morgoth’s smog clouded the sky so heavily and consistently, they hardly ever saw the sun and moon, and never the stars- except for one. Now knowing that the silmaril sailed the sky, even in those days, Elrond often mused that if he’d just put a little thought into it, he might have realized what that bright light up there was. Maedhros and Maglor certainly did. But they never told and Elrond and Elros never figured it out. They were far too busy.

Survival occupied their every day.

During their roaming march- never in one place for long for fear of assault; ostensibly from Morgoth’s forces, but assaults from other peoples was always an unspoken possibility- there was never any time for long bouts of contemplation. Everyone worked. Elrond and Elros gathered wood, set up tents, trapped animals, fished, cooked, cleaned, bore wine and water during war meetings between the Sons of Feanor and their commanders. 

And in between their chore, they learned, learned, learned.

“Are they not princes of the House of Finwe?” Maedhros had once growled at a former mathematician turned spearman who was foolish enough to question what the point of schooling in this day and age was. “They will learn how to compunct themselves as proper lords; polite, learned lords. Has Morgoth taken our pride, sir? Or just yours? No prince of the Noldor shall go uneducated.”

He’d spit that word like a curse, ‘uneducated’. That had always stuck with Elrond, it was so different to how their mother thought. Elwing had prioritized knowing the most beautiful songs- that sounded just a little prettier in her voice- and understanding the ebb and flow of nature. Maedhros wanted them to know grammar.

And Elros and Elrond hated it, they really did. The days went in and out like that, chores and lessons, lessons then chores, meals spattered in between, and it was exhausting. They slept hard at night. Things were simple, though. Those days were occupied with routine, with familiarity, with certainty. 

Routine, familiarity, and certainty can bring fondness to even the most gruesome of times, as long as they came with fairness. Or complete lack thereof. Nothing was fair in Morgoth’s Middle-earth, but that was its own kind of equality. It was the kind of cruel environment that brought clarity, like who you could afford to have as an enemy and who you couldn’t. 

Like grief is a feeling that is inevitable and should be dwelled on for as short a time as possible. Spending too long on grief just brought more of it.

Now, though, with Morgoth vanquished, they all just had too much time on their hands. At least, that's how Elrond felt about it. Too much time for funerals, too much time for kindness, too much time for thinking. 

“All I do these days,” Elrond muttered to himself, head tilted back towards the rain, “is think until I’m miserable.”

And now he did not even have Elros as a sounding board to tell him that he was being stupid.

A sob welled up again in Elrond's throat, and he swallowed it with a shout, stomping up and down. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he was tired of crying. He was tired of crowd-appropriate sorrow. He wanted to move, he wanted to-

 Elrond danced miserably- stamping his feet with great power every time he landed- around the patio where he and Elros had so many joyous moments, so much happiness and love that they couldn't even imagine as children, and he hated all of this.

Elros lived such a good life. He lived such a good life. A happy, full life, overflowing with legacy that was being celebrated and carried on, and he’d been content to die. Elrond had helped his brother make this choice, he thought he would be content to see Elros die when the day came. But he wasn’t.

He fucking wasn’t.

Taken by a manic fury, Elrond sprang across the balcony towards the telescope, climbing his way onto the balustrade it was perched on, and leaned. He latched one hand around the pole that held up the telescope, planted one foot on the slippery rock beneath him, and leaned over the edge, one leg in the air.

“Why does everyone leave me!” he screamed at the sea and the sky and the western horizon of Valinor.

Elrond received a mouthful of seawater for his efforts.

Hacking and coughing, he looked ruefully at the waters below. Elros’s study was a hundred feet above the shoreline and it was low tide. If water was reaching so high up just to make Elrond’s day that little bit worse, it must be…

Elrond started to climb down the cliffside.

Damn Ulmo, he thought as he started painstakingly maneuvering his way down the sheer, wet rocks of Numenor’s western edge. Damn his water and his oceans and his meddling rivers.

Oh, how annoying they had been when they were children, trying to sweep them down stream, away from the kinslayers. To where, Elrond had always wondered. Surely not all the way to Balar. The ainur efforts at liberating them never came to anything but inconvenience, they were always plucked out of the waters by worried guardians.

Maedhros always worried they would drown. It was Maglor who exhaustedly explained that, no, the grandsons of Tuor must be beloved by the waters. Ulmo was trying to send them home.

Elros and Elrond had no scope to appreciate either sentiment. They were just tired and wet and scared.

Elrond was tired and wet now. His hands cut open by cold rock, knees scraped, limbs straining, he was angry, he was also as angry at Ulmo as when the Lord of the Tides had stooped before him and his brother and told them of the boon he gave their mother. As his feet hit the mucky sand of low tide and he shoved his sopping hair out of his face, he had the same demand for him.

Could you think of nothing more helpful to do?

“Oi!” Elrond yelled as he strode forward into the sea, “Do you have something to say!”

The sea was massively loud, churning and twisting as it had been doing all morning, the wind whipping it up into a frenzy. Elrond had to fight every step, both against being pulled forward and by being pushed backwards by the tide. And down. The sand was soft and grasping. It seemed like Ulmo had quite a lot to say, and if Elrond was in a more philosophical mood, he’d unplug his ears and listen to what the Lord of Tides’ domain was trying to communicate.

But that was a habit that Elros always rolled his eyes at and called, “So Elvish,” with a stupid smirk and then Elrond would tackle him to the ground and they’d wrestle until one of them had mud forcibly rubbed behind his ears, and-

And those days were gone. Those days were gone without any possibility for recovery and Elrond scarcely comprehended how short they’d been. So long for Elros, so short for him. 

Battered and deafened by the sea, Elrond finally screamed at the top of his lungs.

He yelled until the breath ran short in his throat and then he drew in a large gulp of air, and cried out again, tilting his head back. This time, his throat burned when all the air was gone, but now that he’d started, Elrond wasn’t done. No one on Numenor could hear him here. No subjects to draw conclusions, no nieces and nephews to baby him, no Gil-galad so soon to arrive with his soft understanding that didn’t understand anything.

No Elf could understand this. No Man could understand this. 

To be separated in fate from the one person who had been consistent throughout your life? Even when you’d both made those choices with eyes wide open and sure, it was… The dissonance could scarcely be comprehended.

So Elrond screamed until his voice was raw.

He let his knees give out and collapsed into the surf. The sand was soft beneath him and ruining his black mourning clothes, but damn, it was the calmest he’d felt since…

When Elrond tilted his head back towards the misting rain, he closed his eyes and was lying in bed with Elros once more. His little brother was wheezing with each breath, so drained and weak he could hardly sit up, but it did not impair their conversation. They were talking about being younger, the wild years of Numenor’s construction, when Elrond would leave the equally unfinished Lindon and they’d roam, alone and together around the lands of Eriador. 

“It was Nîn-in-Eilph that I’ve missed in these infirm years. I loved it there. Every step was an adventure,” Elrod said in his creaky voice, and Elrond had smiled.

Lying on his side, face half covered by pillows, holding Elros’s hand, he said, “All of the Bruinen is beautiful. Do you remember that valley we found? I keep meaning to go back there, I keep thinking of it.”

Elros chuckled weakly.

“Only you would find yourself entranced with a patch of land so near troll dens. Oh, I worry about you, Elrond. What shall you do without me, hm? Without Numenor and the wisdom of Men to come running to when you are annoyed with your Elves?”

“And what about you?” Elrond replied softly. “What shall you do once you cross and you’re surrounded by only mortals? Where will Elrond be then and his Elvish wisdom to save you when you are annoyed by Men?”

Elros did not reply to that; Elrond supposed that they were too close to that eternal uncertainty for it to be funny.

He squeezed his brother’s hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” Elrond had whispered. “I’ll be fine. You know me. Comfortable everywhere.”

“And home nowhere,” Elros muttered in reply, squeezing back. He turned away with a slight smile, though, the knowing kind old Men and elder Elves got. “Too brave, too adventurous for your own good. But, no, no… You’ll be fine. I know it in my heart that you’ll find your home one day, Elrond. First, you just have to do everything and talk to everyone!”

“I will taste the world,” Elrond said, smirking. 

Elros had chuckled, and started to drift then. Elrond sang for him. His brother napped for the last time, because when he awoke in just two hours, he summoned everyone important to his side and said his final goodbyes. Elros was gone before sundown. 

Opening his mouth for the rain and the salty mist, Elrond thought they tasted very bitter. He did not want them, suddenly. He did not feel brave and adventurous; he did not feel like King Elros’s wild Elven brother with hands that could heal any ailment. Elrond felt very like everything he’d ever known was burning at his back and he didn’t want to run from the thing that caused that loss. After all, what did it hurt to embrace that which had destroyed you when there was nothing left behind you?

Not for the first time, Elrond wondered what it would be like to have made a different choice. Would he and Elros have died hand-in-hand as they’d been born hand-in-hand? 

But his heart tugged and pulled, and he found himself bitterly wondering instead what it would be like right not if Elros had chosen differently. He would have liked that better. It wasn’t how it was, though.

Nothing was ever how Elrond would have liked it. 

Which brought him right back around to the self-pity that had dragged him out to the sea which had stolen so much from him and still taunted. Mother, father, brother, Maglor, all of them stupidly entranced by the ocean water when Elrond thought he’d rather go rot in a river valley. Maybe he should just go lay down in the mud near that troll land and stay there for an age until he was subsumed and made part of the very earth, watching it all pass.

And when he awoke from that most natural slumber, perhaps the grief would be gone. Perhaps he would not mind being alone.

“Bah!” Elrond cried, letting out all his air with his exhalation. He threw himself back into the water, clueless as to what else to do with the storm in his chest. Under the water, Elrond drank and tried to say, Ulmo, if you’re to interfere, turn me into something else and let me fly away.

His lungs ached, his raw throat burned, and it felt good to focus on that pain. Everything was dark and white noise beneath the waves and he was free. 

Which was why he was so annoyed when a gentle hand cupped the back of his head and lifted him up. 

As he hacked and coughed and wiped at his salty face, Elrond glared miserably at the watery visage of Ulmo, Lord of the Tides. That transparent, saltwater form just raised a coy eyebrow at him, and Elrond spit some of the water from his mouth. It had been some time since he’d seen or spoken to this entity, but he felt no surprise; or awe.

“I knew you must be near,” Elrond muttered petulantly.

“I’m always near,” Ulmo intoned, voice bubbling like a creek, every word a song unto itself.

“Shall I find a desert, then, and see if you appear?”

“Cheeky.”

Elrond managed a strained quirk of his lips and not much else.

Ulmo blinked lazily at him, water flicking off his viscous eyelashes. Such a strange creature, even more timeless and unreadable than the most enlightened Elves. There was something alluring about such infinity to Elrond, but it did not come with reverence. Not for the first time, he was taken with the desire to stick his hands into an Ainur’s fea and dissect what he found there.

“Yet,” Ulmo burbled, “you were cheekier still in the days when we spoke often. Sweet child, sharp tongue. Wide eyes, stern stance. Gentle hands, long sword. You were scared, then. You are scared now.”

And Elrond sighed. 

“I suppose so, my lord,” he mumbled, holding onto his ankles and leaning back. He turned his gaze towards the setting sun and pretended to study the clouds.

“Fear is not something to be ashamed of.”

“I know, my lord.” “Especially when faced with situations we have never known before.”

Elronnd’s eye twitched, and for the fourth time today, his temper got the better of him. He splashed water at Lord Ulmo, dismissing him and his words, and glared. 

“Never known before and never again,” he snapped. “I only have one brother, one constant companion to lose. In fact, I am the only one who has ever known such a thing, and with a little luck, am likely to be the only one ever. So, yes, I am scared and cheeky in the face of such a thing. It is always I who is asked by Iluvatar to suffer strange and singular pains, so I hope you’ll forgive me for not acting with perfect grace.”

“The Valar have lost siblings to unknown and diverged fates,” Ulmo said and Elrond’s eyes went massive as shock and fury battled within him.

“Do not compare my brother to Morgoth,” he hissed quietly and the water around him grew unnaturally still, only the slightest ripple of tension emerging in a circle around him.

Ulmo did not look phased. 

He merely said, “I meant myself, truly.”

Elrond floundered. Anger and indignation had been building, and just as suddenly, they fled from him, the waves moving once more. Lukewarm sea water splashed up his back, and Ellrond merely stared, stunned and lost. Ulmo, thankfully, explained.

“Myself, and the others whom you know. Our Manwe, our Varda, our Yavanna, so on. And our Melkor. Those of us who came to shape Arda left kin behind and we knew when we did that we would never return. Tulkas feels this choice most keenly. We still miss those left behind as I’m sure they miss us, but it was a choice made with open eyes. To leave, to stay. It was what was desired, needed by each individual. Sometimes we must leave loved ones behind when our paths diverge too heavily, and that is as natural a thing as… Well, as my rivers diverging never to meet again! Some, most, rather, come back together in the ocean, but some lonely few do not. Only the breaking of the world will reunite us.”

Ulmo tilted his head, hair dipping and dripping back into the sea.

“Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Elrond whispered, looking away. He was suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, by his… lack of perspective. Yes, of course the Valar might be the only of Iluvatar’s children who understood him. How strange to not be alone in this pain. How… bitter. “Yes, I see now. I’m sorry.”

Slowly and gently, a water-light touch lifted his chin. Ulmo had no eyes, not in the traditional sense. In the liquid facsimile of a face, there were pockets of light where one's eyeballs typically were. They were infinitely deep and Elrond wished for such a perspective. He wished he could see instead of being bound by his hroa.

“Do not apologize, like a child caught with dirty hands. You do suffer uniquely. But even with Elros’s equally unique existence diverged beyond you, you are not alone.”

“I do know that,” Elrond said, sadness gripping him. He did, he did know he was not alone. 

For all he dreaded having to see and feel Gil-galad’s grief and sympathy, Elrond knew he would embrace his almost, nearly brother like the world was ending all over again as soon as he saw him. He knew that Galadriel would be just as annoyed with the spectacle of this funeral and let him curse the world without judgement and Celeborn would hold him up without any fuss or trouble, easy to let love him. Celebrimbor would never flinch when Elrond wanted to talk about the strange and politically-difficult childhood he shared with his brother, and would let him cry bitterly for who wasn’t here. There was Thranduil and the other children of the War of the Wrath who would pass him a bottle, no questions asked, and not treat him as fragile.

But being alone and being alone were two different things. Elrond and Elros, Elros and Elrond… Who was just ‘Elrond’? He didn’t know. He was scared to find out.

As soon as Elrond’s face crumbled, Ulmo’s giant, watery hand began to caress his head and for the twelve-billionth time, he cried.

“When will it end?” Elrond blubbered around his tears. “When will it stop feeling like the right choice was to stay together?”

“Oh, child, never. You need be more concerned with if you ever start to feel like the right choice was for you to have made for Men. I don’t think you feel that way. I think you wish you could have had it both ways. That you could have had your choice and your brother. But you would have never wished miserable immortality on him just as he would have never wished miserable mortality on you. It is a tragedy; there were no perfect ends.”

“It hurts so much,” he wailed. His eyes and the sky and Ulmo were all so wet and blurry that it was hard to distinguish. The only thing clear was the star of Earendil rising in the sky. “We all keep having to make these choices and it hurts so much!”

“I know, child. The waters never stop moving, and it is cruel and it is glorious. My heart is filled with sorrow for you, but also hope.”

Elrond was hiccuping around his tears, shaking his head. Hope, hope, hope, what was it Maedhros said about hope? That it was for lovers and martyrs. Elrond did not want to be a martyr, but he did know love. He just… was so tired of that love bringing him pain. Of those he loved all but fleeing from him.

His love for Elros had not gone with his brother’s soul to the place of the Men. It was still here and it was heavy. Right now, Elrond had little hope of that love not drowning him.

“I’m scared,” he rasped, wiping at his eyes. “I knew it was coming, but I don’t know how to live with this eternity I’ve chosen without him. I’ve never done… anything without him.”

Ulmo made a noise like a rumbling waterfall, that washed away his fears as easily as cleaning up silt.

“Nonsense,” he rumbled. “You have made a home of Lindon without him. You have forged friendships without him. Traveled west of the Misty Mountains without him. Written treatises on the nature of the world without him. What you have not done is lived your life without him in your heart. You never will; I still remember our kin beyond the edge of Arda and you will always remember your brother. But what you will find is that the place in your heart he is held in will grow fonder and gentler in time. Lighter. Every weight feels heavier at low-tide.”

“Low-tide?” Elrond snorted, wetly and then had to cough around his tight throat.

“Yes,” Ulmo said, patting his head with one hand that just further drenched his hair while the other gestured at the drawn out tide around them. “Low-tide. The currents of life and time wash us up and pull us out, leaving us stranded for a time. But as long as we choose to keep trudging forward, the waters always come back.”

Elrond briefly considered telling Ulmo that this metaphor felt a little stretched, but… no. Woe betide him to reject poetry in times of pain. It was Elros who had preferred prose. 

“But we still come back to the main issue,” Elrond said. “I don’t know how to swim alone.”

Ulmo shook his head at him, but did not scold. He merely said, “You don’t need to know how, you have done so all along. But if you are so frightened, think of it this way. Like a duckling, it will come naturally to you, after a time. You just need to let life carry you, follow the flows of water down the diverging paths according to what feels strongest, and you’ll get there. I know you, Elrond. The never-ending chase inspires you. You are scared now because you have found yourself in one of life’s many low-tides. You are stuck. But the waters will pick back up again, in time, and take you along. Be scared. But know that you will keep going.”

“I guess that’s what I signed up for,” Elrond laughed wryly, “to keep going and going and going. My Eru. I’m already tired.”

“You’ve hardly begun, child. There are many more tired days ahead of you.”

“So the Men keep telling me when they call me child,” Elrond said, glaring at Lord Ulmo once more, but this time it was with a slight smile on his lips.

“You are a child,” Ulmo sang, and he was already melting back into the waters. “Enjoy your wandering feet, Elrond. Let them take you where they need you to go. Search for all the answers your heart and mind taunt you to find, and then enjoy the days where you might call others ‘child’.”

Elrond, small and alone, didn’t think he’d ever know enough to call another ‘child’ so surely. But he… he… When he thought of following Elros beyond, he balked, because he wanted to learn. There was so much more to see and understand. 

He was still sad that he did not have Elros to share it with.

On leaden limbs, Elrond stood. He could not sit in the sand forever. He was sure that his absence had already been noticed and Vardamir had sent people looking for him. Numenor loomed so largely before him, though. Elrond didn’t want to climb up its vaulted walls.

As he was considering the value of calling for help, he felt the water start to rise and come back in; and, more importantly, he felt the waters start to tug his legs to the left. 

A boon, a melodic voice whispered in his ear, and Elrond decided that, well, he wasn’t a child anymore. He would follow the waters of Ulmo where they would take him today. He did not have anyone else to go running scared to, after all.

The tides carried him around the edge of Numenor’s slopping cliffs where the oldest parts of the grand city were built. They dipped lower as Elrond trudged forward until they gave way to grassy beach. Still, the waters guided him onward. As his legs started to ache and his feet grew sore, this strange path towards an unknown destination did not feel like a boon.

The night was growing closer, the star of Earendil bright but far away. Elrond walked, confused, in the dark until a familiar song greeted him from a distance. He moved faster, after he heard that, until a strange silhouette emerged before him, and Elros’s whispers about a shadow that visited him in the night made sense.

Yes, there was someone who knew and mounted Elros the peredhil and not Elros the king.

Out from Ulmo’s waters, Elrond ran for Maglor. When the music stopped, he was greeted with open arms. He breathed in harp polish, brine, and seared flesh, and felt at peace for the first time since Elros’s hand slipped from his. 

Someone had come back to Elrond.

[inquisitorhierarch]

so i think it’s been long enough since the post i’m going to vague about was last in circulation anywhere near me that i can finally talk about it without getting a flood of harassment in my inbox like i Always do every time i talk about people Lying on here about lotr. (a HUGE number of posts about lotr on here are either misleading or simply Made Up lmfao. it’s really infuriating)

anyway there’s a post going around about. the weakness of man and tolkien incorporating what he knew firsthand about the horrors of war into the story - and that part’s all totally fine. but Somebody chose to add on a widely-reblogged addition that stated something so incredibly and offensively wrong that i honestly think maybe i died at some point and read that awful reblog here in hell.

they talk at length about how the “moral” of humanity’s failing is somehow represented by. rohan “failing in its border obligations to gondor” and theoden having to die to redeem himself. and i just have one single thing to say about that

what in the good love of fuck fascist divine right of kings bullshit are you on mate

you couldn’t possibly be missing the point More you fucking weirdo

one criticism of lotr that i am very vocal about (which i for some weird reason Never see popular criticisms touch on) is that Of Course tolkien’s biases as a heavily christian british man gave him certain worldviews that obviously affected the worldbuilding of middle-earth, and he Loved him some divine right of kings rubbish. but even HE would NEVER have said or thought something so oppressively fascist about rohan’s response to gondor’s failure, because let’s be clear - the ONLY human kingdom that failed in the course of the war of the ring was fucking gondor. theoden had his problems, but the vast majority of the kingdom of rohan remained either uninterested in his descent into madness or tried to save him from it.

gondor had already been off the rails for ages at this point.

gondor, and its predecessor Numenor, represent the Higher Race of Man, God’s Chosen People (in a christian sense) - the Norman Kings who came from across the sea to civilise the British Isles and drive out the Wild Men and their offensive scottishness/welshness/cornishness/etc. the men of rohan, and other indigenous inhabitants of middle-earth ranging from dunlendings and the druedain (most likely pictish and cornish analogues) to the haradrim, easterlings and lossoth (spain/the moors, the ottoman empire, and vikings, respectively), are literally termed Lesser Men, because they’re not iluvatar’s chosen, and they are literally Expected to submit themselves to gondor’s rule, or become bad guys if they won’t. rohan literally came into being as a vassal-state of gondor, and their Happy Ending is eomer swearing himself back into that form of service and following aragorn on all his wars in the south.

now, because of tolkien’s biases, this turns out Well for them of course, but from the perspective of readers it’s easy to notice that this is actually fucking dystopian and horrific. in fact, the Most horrific example is the dead men of the Stone of Erech who fight for aragorn at Minas Tirith in order to be released from their oaths.

from their perspective, all those years ago, they were living their own lives on their own land in southern middle-earth doing their own thing, and then some tall dickheads pitched up on a boat after their island home sunk and just Declared that they were the chosen kings and all men have to submit to them. literally anyone in these circumstances would probably be justified in saying “yeah sure okay bro” and hoping the guys would go away - because they don’t have the omnipresence to know that tolkien’s version of christian god said elendil really WAS the true king and they’d be punished for not randomly right off the bat obeying some arrogant jackass walking onto Their land and insisting it all belonged to Him instead and also that their “sure thing buddy” was legally and magically binding. they literally suffered constantly for centuries because of a mistake literally anybody without magical fourth-wall-breaking genre knowledge would make.

sauron might be The bad guy of lotr, but anybody with a capability for analysis can look at the actual worldbuilding and see that gondor is also. Absolutely Horrific

and then we come to Denethor. motherfucking Denethor

DENETHOR is the one who failed in his “border obligations”. to rohan. the idea that rohan failed to guard its borders is fucking gibberish. because even if it HAD been their obligation (which it fucking WASN’T), the reason they failed was an overwhelming flood of orcs massacring their soldiers - you know. a thing that it’s pointless to blame someone for on account of all the Deaths being punishment enough you weird Freak. rohan was constantly begging gondor for help as they were being overrun... as the isen was taken and the first AND second marshals of the mark were killed. and denethor didn’t give a shit. he didn’t even want to light the beacons to call rohan for help - he was only angry that theoden supposedly didn’t answer in time because he was so twisted by the palantir that he saw defeat and betrayal in everything.

to claim that the failure in the disaster that befell the kingdoms of man in the war of the ring was rohan’s is to so totally misunderstand everything tolkien was trying to convey that i have to wonder if you even Read the fucking books or if you just Really like to wax lyrical about how great kings are. the point of theoden’s hesitation to go to gondor’s aid is that he has been through absolute hell and gondor sent NO AID WHATSOEVER so he intended to do the same thing back. and instead chooses to be the bigger man and give help even though gondor has no right to ask for it after offering nothing of its own. to do good for no reason other than it IS good. 

THAT is the motherfucking point of theoden’s change of heart - not some fucking bullshit about being a good little slave to gondor’s king and laws, but the idea that in his heart of hearts, theoden couldn’t even let the people who allowed his son to die due to their inaction to suffer if he could do something about it. rohan’s entrance to the battle of the fields of pelennor is literally about how showing up for no other reason than because it’s right will win the day, even if you’re “lesser” than the big hero guys.

“rohan failed to uphold their border obligations” literally go fuck yourself you fucking prick lmfao

[morgulscribe]

One Tale of Numenor

Angmar wrote this story in a roleplaying chatroom in 2004. It was a very spontaneous, spur of the moment sort of thing, and for this reason some of the details, such as the time period in which the Numenoreans first started colonizing Middle-earth, have discrepancies from the canon account.

Angmar frequently told stories such as these in the chatroom: accounts from the Mordorian perspective, which claimed to be the true history of Middle-earth, unlike the lying histories of the Elves and Gondorians.

I removed comments from other people in the chatroom, as well as converted the chat log format into a more traditional story format. But other than that, Angmar's writing remains unchanged.

One Tale of Numenor Written By Angmar

Once upon a time, Men and Elves helped the Valar with a silly trifling problem. For this the men were rewarded with a five sided island called Numenor. This was a long long time ago. These men of Numenor were always rebels, except for a few good men. They had many queens and kings and it wasn't until the last that some of the kings saw the light and became good.

They were a wicked, corrupt people, but there was some hope for them. As time grew on they saw the error of their ways and turned to the right path. They had long been blinded by the words of the elves and were being led into perdition. The only place they could learn the truth was back in Middle Earth. There was one there who could teach them the right way.

Thse poor men who had long been going down the wrong road. They sailed in their great ships back to Middle Earth in hopes of acquiring wisdom from this great god. After they had landed, they had a long way to go to reach this kind, understanding Maia. So the King set out with all his men and all his baggage wagons and great treasures to offer the Maia.

The King and all his counselors beseeched and begged this Kind Maia to teach them the ways of enlightenment and pled with him to go back to Numenor with him so he could teach on the holy mountain. The King threw himself at The Maia's feet and did obeisance, bowing repeatedly and singing great praises. He just wanted to kiss his great hand and he knew he could die right there and he would be happy and go to be with Eru or wherever mortals go, rejoicing and singing the praises of the Maia.

The Maia said, "Never fear, good king, you do not have to bow to me." And the mighty Maia picked the king up from the ground, kissed him on both cheeks and gave him his blessings.

The King said, "I humbly beg you, my lord… That you would come to our lowly island and instruct us in the paths of wisdom and righteousness. For many years the people have floundered in ignorance and corruption, and I beg you to bring a new reign of prosperity and enlightenment to the land. We have sought your guidance for a long while now, and traveled many, many miles."

And the Maia said, "Yes, I will help you to see the light and I will come with you to your lowly island. For I desire only to bring goodness, justice and mercy to your island, as I have brought it here."

So the King of Numenor said he would step down from his throne and give it to the Maia. The King said, "Who would lie idle while the rightful ruler of Numenor had returned?"

But the Maia, being a kind and good being, said, "Nay, Ar-Pharazon, King, you do not need to do that. I will come only as your advisor, for I desire to bring all to the light."

And when they landed on the docks of Numenor, people came out rejoicing and throwing flowers. Finally this great Maia would bring them out of the slime to a new age of enlightenment.

Through the good advice of this Maia, Numenor prospered and sent out colonies to Middle Earth, and the people became rich and then their fame spread far abroad, and they put up great buildings and towers and most importantly a Great Temple, five stories tall, with a dome of silver.

A temple to Melkor, Lord of All, Giver of Freedom.

And the Maia taught them all things they did not know, and how they could gain long life and learn many things. But becoming rich and renowned, the people of Numenor attracted the attention of evil beings who became jealous.

In vengeance, these evil beings plotted to destroy Numenor. The Kind Maia got wind of these plans and informed the King. He told the king that he should go to Valinor and ask for mercy and plead for the lives and safety of all the innocent women and children. For even though he was great and mighty, these evil beings were stronger than he. And the Maia told the King, "You should take great gifts to these evil beings to appease them or they will surely destroy you."

The Maia told everyone that any who could should try to escape. Unfortunately, the ones who did manage to escape were corrupt remnants of the earlier days. But the King gathered up a great fleet of ships, filled them with gifts and sailed west to Valinor. He had scarcely gotten out of the harbor when a great wind blew up. The king pled with the evil beings to spare them but the evil beings said…

"WE WILL NOT SPARE EVEN A BABY FROM OUR WRATH!"

The Maia cried in the temple, for this horror and lamented to the skies, but his pleas were in vain for the evil beings form the west sank Numenor and every living thing on it, imprisoning the poor king, who had came to beg for mercy, in the mountains, trapped for eternity under rock and stone. The injustice of it all!

As the island sank, the kind Maia fled to Middle Earth, crying for all those who had died. He could not save any of them, even though he tried.

The ironic twist of this story is that three of the most wicked, barbarous men escaped and went to Middle Earth, where they spread lies treason and injustice wherever they went.

But that is another story, for the future: The Crimes of Isildur, Anarion, and Elendil.

[spaceorphan18]

So beside being invested what did you think about Rings of Power? I really loved it and I can't wait for S2! :)

Oh, hi Nonny! I'm sorry I'm behind on answering asks. I hope you're still around - because I do love talking about Tolkien, and I don't get to do it a whole lot here!

So - yes, I'm interested, and I thought it was much better than I worried it would be. I still has some issues though that I hope they work on.

Okay, story stuff behind the cut in case people don't want to be spoiled. And because I'm wordy, as usual.

****

I'm mostly going to break this down by character/story arc

Galadriel - I liked her a lot more than general consensus, but I do understand the concerns. There's a lot of room in Tolkien's canon to let Galadriel be whatever the story needs her to be. What they made her be, however, is mostly an angry, aggressive, and static character. I don't blame the actress -- she's doing great with some questionable script writing. I'm fine with her wanting revenge, but they're swinging wildly on this one note, and really need to give her more depth and nuance moving forward.

(Also /what/ was that dark scene where she threatened Adar? I mean why go that far?)

Halbrand/Sauron - Okay, I love LOVE the idea of what they did here more than the actual execution. This is one of those times where the show was trying to have its cake and eat it too. They were trying to walk this line -- making him seem like he could be a real lost king, or someone who was going to be the Nazgul, and wanted to play up the mystery of who Sauron was but... they could have spent a lot more time letting us in on the secret, and letting him be way more manipulative than he actually was. I feel like it was /such/ a missed opportunity to not have him just be sinister, or at least unsettling, the whole way through.

I also think there was a missed opportunity not to have him spend more time with the Elves (as he does in canon) teaching them how to make their rings. It was weird to me that it was, like, a half episode.

Loved the actor (kudos to having him have the whole Aragorn feel to him). Loved the scene between he and Galadriel in the last episode -- so, so good. And I'm really glad they didn't try to force some weird kind of romance there, and instead were opting for two sides of a similar coin kind of thing.

Again - interested to see where they go with this -- will they stick to canon and have him involved in the fall of Numenor?

Elendil, Ilsildur, and Numenor - Look, we know how this ends - with Numenor sinking into the sea and Elendil and Ilsildur creating the last alliance (with the Elves) to defeat Sauron. I think there's a good start here -- both with Elendil and Ilsildur and with the beginnings of the fall of Numenor. I can't say this was the most interesting part of the show, but it does have potential for getting some really fascinating fantasy politics going.

Celebrimbor, Gil-Galad, and the Elves - Out of all the places we've been, the land of the Elves feels kind of limited, and I wish they'd expand the scope here a little. Celebrimbor isn't like I thought he'd be, but that's okay -- I do wish we had more of him though. Gil-Galad feels so stiff and undeveloped. Let him expand his role a bit.

Elrond - Yes, I love him and everything about him. No complaints. Let's give him more to do in upcoming seasons.

The Dwarves - This was pretty well done. Even if there were some huge departs to canon (There should only be one Durin at a time) I think this might be the strongest story line in the show. I loved Elrond and Durin's friendship. I also loved Dessa - and how she's somewhat a Lady MacBeth character. The characterization in these plot lines feels like it was handled the best.

The whole Mithril being the Elves' savior thing -- *sigh* Look, I know they're limited because they don't get the Silmarillion, and it's causing some strange things to happen. And I'm not a Tolkien purist - I'm fine with changes but... wtf?? Mithril was somehow created from the Silmarils and a balrog and... no. Stop. Stop explaining it.

The Southlands - I was a little worried at first, because all of the characters here were original ones. While I really did not care about the romance between the Elf dude and the Southlander woman, overall, I think what they did here was pretty good. The tension during this story line was pretty well done, and the characters weren't nearly as annoying as I feared they might be.

I still feel like the kid has some part to play -- will he become a great king of men and become one of the nazgul? That'd be a twist, huh?

I also kind of loved the eruption of Mt. Doom -- though another missed opportunity not having the Southlands change to Mordor on the map.

Adar - I actually loved this character -- because he struck on some of the lore actually from canon, and made him a sympathetic villain. Idk, I just thought it was cool what they did with him. The orcs, too, were rather well done -- and much more menacing than in the original trilogy, tbh.

The Stranger - I love Wizards, I really do. I think they spent too much time making us wonder if it was Sauron, though, when it clearly wasn't. All signs point to Gandalf, which would be.. I get it, even if Gandalf wasn't in the third age. They have room to tell the story of one of the blue wizards, which would at least be a neat twist. I also kind of wonder if he's Saruman - because that'd be even more unexpected. I suppose we'll see. I do hope, though, he has more interaction with the others, though, because this plot line was so disjointed that it kind of felt annoying to go back to it.

The Hobbits - *sigh* This is where I'm confused - in canon, there are three factions of Hobbits and the Fallohides are the ones that are wanderers, not the Harfoots. Nothing about these Harfoots resembled what we know about them in canon, so why not make them Fallohides? I don't get it.

Anyway... when I heard they were bringing Hobbits into the mix, I kind of groaned. It was better than I thought it'd be, but still not great. They were just kinda dumb -- and it was their own fault they kept getting killed by the stranger. Nori drove me crazy. Oops. (Also - holy Elijah Wood look alike with this actress.)

Some other things --

The LotR references - as someone who loves Easter Eggs and callbacks, even I was getting a little bit tired of them. They were going out of their way to pay so much homage to the original trilogy that I felt like it was trying too hard.

the cinematography is gorgeous. It is the most expensive TV show ever filmed, and it shows. I hope that push back about the show doesn't cause Amazon (or who ever is funding it) to cut the budget on this - because omg, is it beautiful.

The score was fantastic - yes, good, goes in with the wonderful cinematography

The show has some pacing issues. Some plot lines drag on too much. Others are rushed.

Also, as reviewers mentioned - some of the dialogue is really awkward and just plain weird.

So.... are they going to show the making of the other rings? Are they going to show the downfall of men into the Nazgul? How's the fall of Numenor going to go? Will they expand into the east and south? There's a lot of story to tell yet -- I'm hoping they listen to some feedback about this first season and try to improve upon it. There's a lot of potential here, and I want to see it grow into an even better show!

Those be my thoughts! Thanks for asking Nonny!

[wonderwafles]

Hello! I'm your gifter for the Gates of Summer exchange (Secret Lord of Gondolin?) and I was wondering if you had any specific headcanons on the Ainur? Especially re. characterizations and especially especially re. characterization/backstories of the named Maiar? I have some ideas already, but my headcanons are a little out there for some of them! Also, any other details you didn't put on the form but would really like/DNW?

Hello! Happy Gates of Summer! <3

I do have... a lot! I generally imagine the Ainur as being... somewhat human in thought and reasoning (if not in physical form!), but a little to the left. More utopian in their thinking, more divorced from the concerns of the body, closer to Eru, which is why I think their semi-feudal system of "vassalship" to the Valar tends to work as well as it does. Actually, there's this poem I read a long time ago about the feudal system written in around the tenth century or so (???) that sort of idealizes the feudal state, imagining the lord as a benevolent guide and teacher who maintains the land and the serfs as willing helpers who benefit from it. Now obviously that's bull, but I sometimes imagine the Ainur's system as being like... a version of that where all participants really *are* in it with good faith, where the Valar want to help and teach the Maiar rather than exploit their labor and the Maiar help the Valar in turn out of gratitude and free will, and all parties can withdraw freely from the relationship because they are largely independent of each other. Though in true Tolkien fashion, they are at their best when they work together. Like if you took the medieval feudal system of liege-lords and fealty (because Tolkien) and put some utopian communism on top of it.

Of course, the Ainur's work involves the proper functioning of dreams and the regulation of the wind and rain and things like that. I like the juxtaposition of the grand fantastical nature of the Ainur being on top of a relatively mundane social system. I headcanon that Elves and Men both learned about Kings for the first time from the Ainur... for better or worse. :P

I also like the "pagan gods" aspect of them, and I think they sometimes take a break from being angels to go have big rowdy feasts in Valmar and wander Middle-Earth (playfully, depending on if the Maia is Melkorish or not) tricking the inhabitants into becoming part of a fairy tale. :D

Now for character headcanons! I have a few; I think Ossë and Mairon are foils in the beginning, for one thing. I like to think of Mairon as refusing to join Melkor in the beginning because he is all about order and despised Melkor's chaos and disruption of the Music, while Ossë joined because he likes to have a good time and rebel. Then it turned out that Melkor didn't want chaos and freedom (which was already inherent in the Music), he wanted to dominate everything that wasn't his, which caused both Mairon and Ossë to reconsider their stances on serving him. (Another thing is that Ossë had Uinen, who didn't give up on him; Mairon had no one.)

Some others: Manwë is a hopeful universalist, and believes unto the last Ages that even the vile spirits of Melkor and Melkor himself will be healed and brought back into the Music. Upon Olorin's return after the War of the Ring he was celebrated wildly as a hero of the Maiar, which he bore politely even though it made him grumpy. Ulmo seems to like humans, which I like to think carries through to his Maiar, particularly during Numenor’s sea-faring height. I think there are more Maiar hanging out in Middle-Earth still than we might imagine, both those who loved it and wanted to stay and those who are just doing their day jobs.

Less of a heacanon per se, but to rec a fic instead: I love The Sky, the Sea, and the Birds Between, and its portrayal of Eönwë in particular is my favorite Eönwë ever. I don’t want to assign you reading if you don’t want to lol, so some highlights are Eönwë as a valiant himbo warrior who spent much of the First Age asking permission to go fight in Beleriand, makes up poetry for fun, and has no idea how to handle kissing people. He does sleep with Eärendil and Elwing both, but don’t worry, it’s all above-board. Plus, it’s one of my favorite Silmarillion fics.

Okay... I think that’s all I have for now! I don’t think I have any other DNW’s (I mentioned Valar-bashing, right?). Feel free to ask me anything else you’d like to know! Or just to talk about the Ainur, too :D

[starlightervarda]

Hi Lucie. Pretty new to your little blog here, but I just wanted to drop a line and say "hi". Do you have any tips to starting the LOTR book series? I'm really curious to see how the original books compare. I grew up with The Hobbit, and I've seen all the Peter Jackson movies, but with grad school, I don't have much time to read these days. Hope you're doing well. :)

Hi Emilee!

Thank you, I’m trying to get better health-wise these days! 💞

The Hobbit is usually the place to start as it sets up what happens in the Lord of the Rings and shows you how the Ring ended up with Frodo’s uncle Bilbo and explains a few things that the Fellowship encounter in their journey.

But if you want a more in-depth explanation into the history of Middle-Earth before you go into the narrative of the One Ring then there’s the Silmarillion and the Unfinished Tales.

The Silmarillion acts as an origin story to how Middle-Earth (and the universe it’s in) was formed, how its races and their cultures and histories and legends occurred. That and the Valar and Maiar (who are technically deities, but are more like angelic beings with specific areas they rule over such as my URL Varda, who is the Vala of the Stars). Gandalf the Grey is one of the Maiar, so he’s this ageless entity in an old-man suit.

After that it gets into what happened during the First Age and Second Age of Middle Earth (the timeline of the Hobbit and LOTR takes place during the Third Age) namely the wars over the book’s namesake, the Silmarils, and what happened to the Numenorians and basically how and why Sauron, the Big Bad of LOTR, ended up like that. Also you meet the previous Big Bad Morgoth, whose kinda Sauron’s boss.

Then we enter the Third Age with the backstory for the first battle of the One Ring and Sauron’s downfall.

The Unfinished Tales are some stories that did end up in the Silmarillion and some expanded backstories on the origins of the wizards, events surrounding the One Ring, the founding of Rohan, the kings of Numenor, etc. So, it’s optional reading.

Extras include The Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien and the Fall of Gondolin, set in the First Age of Middle-Earth. Again, optional reading, but if you want more of the legendarium, I recommend them, especially Beren and Luthien which is a romance for all ages that influenced Aragorn and Arwen (and are the names on the graves of Tolkien and his wife.)

But the last couple of stories probably won’t make much sense if you haven’t read the Silmarillion because it just explains a lot of the things, places and people involved.

So, if you want the story first, then to learn more about the past, you can go:

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

The Silmarillion

Unfinished Tales, Children of Hurin, etc., etc.

But if you want to start fully immersed in Middle-Earth lore you can go by timeline:

The Silmarillion

Unfinished Tales, Children of Hurin, Beren and Luthien, etc.

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

If that is too much to read with grad school, there are always the audiobooks!

Hope this helps you with your journey! 🌟

[lesbiansforboromir]

I woke up still static charged by a convo with Dess and so I regret to inform you all we’re back at it again with my miserable film negativity- the extended edition scene in Osgiliath could NOT have portrayed that last battle before Boromir left worse, nor given a less accurate impression of Minas Tirith’s position as a whole at the time. A rousing speech?? Drinking??? Celebrating????? What the FUCK was there to celebrate?? That hundreds if not thousands of men had just been killed? That the river was likely still clogged with their bodies? That they’d just had to destroy yet another of Numenor’s marvels of engineering? That, even as they spoke, Minas Tirith was being emptied, that refugees were fleeing the city using the borrowed time that such a gutting sacrifice had given them to escape Minas Tirith’s inevitable siege? The utter tone deafness of Boromir talking about reclaiming a city of music or whatever the fuck when a majority of Gondorians are just hoping to live another day- WHY was he on top of a tower!! The witch king is still RIGHT THERE!!!!!! wHAT the BLOODY HELL was Denethor doing just mEAndering about this WAR ZONE?? Boromir and Faramir just swam one of the widest and strongest rivers in all of bloody middle earth after defending a point non stop for literally hours- they aren’t even DAMP- NOT EVEN A FLECK OF MUD ON THEM- this conflict was the culmination of MONTHS of fighting a losing battle- they don’t even look tired!!! BOROMIR LEFT A HOPELESS COUNTRY ON THE BRINK OF DEFEAT, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO HIS MOTIVATiONS!!! PETER!!! WOULDN’T A CLOSE SHOT SCENE OF A FEW BATTERED EXTRAS AND THE BROTHERS LOOKING DEFEATED HAVE BEEN LESS EXPENSIVE?? TO SHOOT??? I’m incapable of letting this go. 

[sweetteaanddragons]

A Question of Loyalty

For @anduniela, who wanted Gil-Galad and Elrond, hurt/comfort, and “The first thing out of your mouth had better be an apology.”

. . .

Gil-Galad froze, and the rest of the small council he had gathered froze with him.

As king, he did his best not to get openly angry often. When he did, everyone seemed to generally consider it best to hold still and hope they weren’t the one his icy gaze was about to be pinned on.

“What did you just say?”

Laron, who had almost certainly counted on his comment passing unnoticed in the general noise and flurry of everyone rising to go, went uncomfortably pale. Gil-Galad could almost see his thoughts racing as he struggled for a way to backtrack. 

Elrond’s face had not quite managed to go politely blank in time to prevent a reaction from showing. Gil-Galad was not particularly interested in hearing Laron try to backtrack.

“Personally,” he said with as much mildness as he could muster, “I would recommend that the next words out of your mouth be an apology.”

Laron was at least not horrifically stupid. The next words out of his mouth were, “I am very sorry, my king. I spoke without thinking.”

Gil-Galad still had to pray for patience though, because - “Unless that was a much cleverer insult than I’d given it credit for, I’m not the one that apology should be directed towards.”

Laron’s face had gone entirely blank, but he turned to Elrond, bowed his head every so slightly and said, “My apologies, Lord Elrond. I spoke without thinking.”

“Of course,” Elrond said, and he said it so kindly it took Gil-Galad to notice the potential double meaning in the words.

Laron thankfully didn’t seem to notice at all, so Gil-Galad waved off him and the others with an irritated, “Dismissed.” His gaze flicked to his favorite cousin before he could follow the others out the door. “Elrond, you stay.”

When the door had fallen shut behind the last of them, Gil-Galad allowed most of the mask to fall and his bewilderment to show. “What was that all about?”

Elrond’s own mask slipped, and for a moment he looked very unhappy before his usual serenity returned with visible effort. “I suspect he was unhappy you opted to follow my advice on the Numenor question.”

“You’re our resident expert on the Numenor question,” Gil-Galad said with growing exasperation. “He, on the other hand, has yet to have a single conversation with a Man at court that I haven’t felt the need to either intervene in or apologize for. What did he expect?”

Elrond sighed wearily. “May I - ?” He asked, gesturing to one of the chairs.

“Of course you can, there’s hardly any need to stand on formality right now,” Gil-Galad said impatiently.

Elrond sank down gratefully. One of his hands reached up to trace the edge of an ear that was just slightly less pointed than most elves’ would be. “I think my being the expert on Numenor is rather the problem,” he admitted. “I’m too much a Man for the taste of Laron’s faction. These growing tensions with Numenor haven’t helped that any.”

“You chose the elves,” Gil-Galad said firmly. “You’re an elf.”

Elrond touched the slightly round tip of his ear again, and wryly said, “Mostly.”

“Definitely,” Gil-Galad said, leaving no room for argument.

“An elf then,” Elrond said, holding his hands up in surrender. “And if you can convince Laron of that, it will at least only leave me to face the question of what kind of elf.”

Gil-Galad blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I think Celeborn still hasn’t forgiven me for not pursuing my birthright among the Sindar, and while he is at least kind about it, he is . . . not the only one to have had the thought.” Elrond looked down at his hands. “Some see it as a kind of betrayal, I think. And some amongst the Noldor, of course, think I must be hiding some kind of secret loyalty to Oropher. And some of both think my upbringing means I was coerced into having Feanorian sympathies. And Celebrimbor, as the last official remnant of that house - “ He cut off with a grimace.

“I thought you got along with Celebrimbor,” Gil-Galad said, startled.

“I do! But at first . . . At first he was rather cautious. He was concerned that - Well, you can imagine.”

“Quite.”

“But we got past that fairly quickly, or so I had thought. Yet lately in his letters he’s been circumspect and careful again, and though I don’t know for certain why, I can only imagine someone’s convinced I must still quietly be holding a grudge.”

That was concerning. There had been quiet tension with Eregion for some time now, and Elrond was Gil-Galad’s best link to continued peace with Celebrimbor. If even that link was straining . . . 

Gil-Galad quietly cursed family, politics, and whoever had first considered combining the two.

Elrond forced a smile. “Just the same old problems, really,” he said. “Nothing worth worrying about.”

“Of course it’s worth worrying about,” Gil-Galad said instantly. “It hurts you, which is definitely worth worrying about, and all other concerns aside, they’re being idiots, and it makes me uncomfortable to find idiocy in people I’m counting on to help me run a country.”

“We’re all idiots sometimes,” Elrond said with more grace than Gil-Galad could have mustered.

“Nonsense. I’m the king, I’m never an idiot. Sometimes other people just fail to recognize my genius,” he said, mostly to get Elrond to smile.

He did smile which, since Gil-Galad couldn’t fix the rest of it, was going to have to be enough of a win for him to settle for right now.

Well, that and coming up with a way to stick Laron with enough paperwork to bury him for a solid month.

[techmomma]

I cannot describe how much I love Elrond the character.

And yes, for more reasons than because he’s a hot dad!

Elrond is a dude who, in the movies, takes a backseat to everyone, and in any other story would be front and center. If you know your Tolkien mythos, you know what I mean already. But if you don’t, here’s a primer on everything that happened with Elrond in the background.

Elrond’s daddo and mom were Earendil (whom you may recall from the phial Galadriel gives Frodo, “the light of Earendil, our most precious star”) and Elwing, granddaughter of the most famous couple in all of the LotR mythos (Beren and Luthien). Earendil was the superman of ancient history, saving middle-earth and slaying literally the biggest dragon of all time and managing to convince the gods to come to middle-earth’s aid against Sauron’s boss, Morgoth. 

Elrond and his brother Elros (his twin) didn’t get to be raised by these two though. Elrond and his bro were de facto orphaned when a warring tribe of elves attacked their home looking for one of three Very Important MacGuffin Jewels. Their mother did kind of a shitty thing and, rather than staying to protect her boys, chose instead to protect the silmaril (The Jewel) by casting herself into the sea in a suicide bid. Their father was away at sea. Eventually, the Sea God turned Elwing into a bird and she found her way to Earendil and long story short, she lives in the West now, and Earendil sails across the skies forever as a star. 

But what happened to Elrond and his bro? Their captors, seeing their mom fling herself into the sea and feeling guilt over what they’d done, took in Elrond and Elros and raised them as their own sons.

Well fine, okay, at least they weren’t raised cruelly, and their captors genuinely seemed to love them (especially Elrond, who gave their captors forgiveness despite what they’d done). Not so bad? Well. See Elrond and his bro are peredhil, because of their lineage. They can choose to be mortal. His bro did, while Elrond chose to be with the elves. His bro became the first king of middle-earth Atlantis. And then died, eventually. 

And the thing with middle-earth and Tolkien’s canon is elves and men have different Fates. Not just “elves are immortal and Men are not.” Elves and Man have completely separate afterlives. It’s why marriages between Elves and Men are looked down on. Once your human lover dies, you don’t get to be with them, ever again. Men go off to someplace even the gods don’t know about. 

So keep this in mind, it’ll come up later. 

Elros chose to be counted with Men, meaning that Elrond will never see him again once he dies. And he did.

So let’s recap so far: Elrond’s dad is guiding one of the Jewels across the sky forever, and will do so till the end of time. His mom is in the West, so he might see her again, but does that matter? He and his brother were raised by their captors after their home was ransacked. And then his brother died and they’ll be forever parted.

Now, his brother, Elros, as mentioned, was the first King of middle-earth atlantis, Numenor. There were many, many kings after that, all essentially Elrond’s nephews and grand-nephews and great-grandnephews. The entire line of Numenor are all distantly related to him. Their corruption and fall due to Sauron’s meddling was the corruption of a very long family line. And then they all pretty much died, when Numenor was sunk under the sea.

At some point, Elrond founds Rivendell. He becomes Lord of Rivendell, honoring his king, the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad. When you watch FotR and the initial battle, if you keep your eyes open and don’t blink, that’s this guy.

He and Elrond are very dear friends, so dear that at some point, Gil-galad gifts him one of the Three Rings For The Elven-kings Under The Sky: Vilya.

Besides the Very Important Jewels, this is possibly one of the most important artifacts to the elves. And the King Of the Noldor Tribe of Elves trusted Elrond so much that, rather than keep it for himself, gave the ring to him, a lowly lord. 

And then Gil-galad died. Horribly. He was burnt to death by Sauron. This scene was scripted for the LotR movies but was never filmed.

Gil-galad had zero heirs, so Elrond was actually the most likely person who could have made the claim to be king. But out of love for Gil-galad, he did not take the title. (You can make the argument that it wouldn’t have looked good to take the title after Gil-galad, but it’s been about three-thousand years by the time of FotR. He could have made a claim at any point.)

So they defeat Sauron in the Last Alliance. After this, Elrond gets married to Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel. Three kids! Twin boys, and his baby Arwen. Yay! Everything was great.

Except at some point, about five hundred years before FotR, Celebrian was travelling, was attacked by orcs, and tormented so badly that after she got home and Elrond healed her, she was so traumatized that she sailed West in hopes that this could heal her mental wounds. (This is why Frodo, Sam, and bilbo sail across the sea.)

So let’s recap after bro died: his family line was corrupted by Sauron and caused the downfall and sinking of Numenor, his beloved king died, his wife nearly died but might as well have died because she had to sail across the sea to heal the mental trauma.

So now we get closer to the modern age. We get all of the bullshit of the LotR. His daughter, also peredhil (every elf child of Elrond’s line is peredhil). She decides to be mortal to marry and be with Aragorn.

Remember Elrond’s bro-bro? That whole permanently forever separated once they’re dead because they chose to be mortal thing? Yeah. Now it’s Elrond’s daughter. There’s a reason he’s described as giving her away “in great sorrow.” And we don’t even know what his twin sons decided.

And throughout all of this? Elrond chooses to be kind. In the movie there’s that bullshit with hiding Arwen’s future from her but I can’t recall if that actually happens in the books. But throughout the hobbit and beyond, he chooses to be kind, harboring Aragorn after his father was killed and raising him like his own and harboring Aragorn’s mother, taking in dwarves and hobbits and wizards, almost declining pippin and merry for the Fellowship because they were kids by hobbit standards, letting Bilbo stay with them just because he liked it there in Rivendell, choosing to help middle-earth when it gave him so much sorrow. He could have sailed to the West at any time, to be with his mother, to be with his wife, to be with his king, just to leave middle-earth and find some respite after everything. But he chooses not to. 

I just. -clenches fist- Love him so much...