Never Thought
Steve definitely does not shriek like a girl.
Oh, who’s he kidding? He does. But he thinks it’s justified considering his past and the fact that a bat fell practically in his lap.
He jumps up and stares at the bat on the ground, blinking when it squeaks. “Hi,” he says, then immediately feels stupid. But it’s not like the bat is going to judge him, so he keeps going. “Christ, you scared the hell outta me.” He peers closer, notices it’s struggling, and crouches to look even closer. “Aw, buddy, did you hurt your wing?” He thinks for a few seconds, then runs inside and grabs a large Tupperware container and a dishcloth. “Don’t bite me, please,” he warns it. “I’ve been bit by enough bats in this lifetime. I’m just trying to help you.” He places the Tupperware down and carefully drapes the towel over the bat, scooping it up and gently placing it in the Tupperware, which he carries inside.
He sets it down on the counter and scratches his head. “Okay,” he says, “now what?”
The bat surfaces from the towel and squeaks at him. “I don’t even know what you eat,” Steve continues. “Or what kind of bat you are. I think the only bats I know are fruit bats and vampire bats. And demobats, I guess, but you’re clearly not that.” He thinks for a second, then grabs an apple and cuts a cube out, dropping it into the Tupperware.
The bat shrinks back into the towel, then steps back out when the apple clearly isn’t meant to hurt it. It sniffs it carefully, then squeaks again—this time with happiness, Steve thinks—and nibbles at it.
“Okay, you’re kinda cute,” Steve admits. “And you’re probably not some kind of hybrid fruit-vampire bat.” He takes a breath. “Dustin’s never gonna forgive me, but I trust you, okay?” He sticks his finger into the Tupperware. The bat sniffs it, licks the tip, and climbs on.
Steve’s heart melts. He helps the bat sit on his palm, then grabs the apple cube and sets it on his palm with the bat. “What the fuck do I do with you,” he mutters.
The bat sneezes. Steve sighs. “I guess I’ll figure it out. At least I know you like apples.” He gently scratches the top of the bat’s head. The bat makes a sound like purring, then does its best to scramble up Steve’s arm until it can get to his shoulder. It perches there and noses at his hair, like it’s trying to pet him back.
Steve sighs. “I’m gonna have to get a lot of library books.” He checks the time. “For now, though, it’s back in the bowl for you. I’ve got to go to work.” He carefully reaches a hand up. The bat chitters and latches on, which makes Steve’s job easier. He pets the top of its head once more before gently placing it back in the Tupperware. He looks for a moment, then smacks his forehead. “Water. You need that to survive.” He finds a medicine cup and fills it with tap water, putting it in one corner of the Tupperware. “Okay. Anything else?”
The bat chitters up at him. “Yeah, I think that’s it, too.” He sighs. He feels like he’s been doing that a lot lately. “I guess I’m going to the library after work?”
The bat purrs again, then dives back into its towel cave. Steve stands there for a minute, then nods to himself, grabs his keys, and walks out the door.
He walks into Family Video, sees there’s only Robin, behind the counter with her vest on, and announces, “I think I just adopted a bat?”
Keep reading
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Hey, so I think I might have figured this code out in the newest Smg4 video, maybe?
Okay, so, this is the original code.
11-12-1-19 2-1-11: 2
First, I changed the numbers into letters by using the alphabet. 1 being A, 2 being B, 3 being C, and so on. Which gave me this:
K L A S B A K B
Which confused me until I changed two letters around. Making this.
K L B S B A K A
Swapped 2 & 1
11-12-2-19 2-1-11: 1
I immediately tied this to Smg3 as he says "Baka," a fair bit in Smg4. But I wasn't convinced it meant anything until I figured out that almost all of the numbers were doubled except for 12 & 19.
I figured 12 out pretty fast. But 19 took me a while to figure out. With 12, I remembered something about the number being in the 3 timetables, and that it was the 4th number.
3 × 4 = 12
34..
When I figured this out, I was still doubtful. Since I knew the creatives on the show sometimes fuel the ship, why is it being hidden like as though it's important? On a classified document, and with Mr. Puzzles?
So I just thought it was some kind of coincidence and that it was something deeper or that the code ultimately meant nothing and that I was just wasting my time on it. Besides, 19 didn't mean anything, right?
Yes and no.
I was right about the number itself, not meaning anything until I used additions.
What two numbers made up 19?
9 + 10..
After seeing those two numbers, I instantly thought of a certain meme.
Now it was 21.. I searched up what time tables could go into 21, the two numbers being 3 and 7.
3 × 7 = 21
I first thought about the number 3, which I realised was kinda stupid of me once I remembered the numbers that made up 7 were 3 and 4.
3 + 4 = 7
Either these somehow are 3 coincidences, or really is about Smg34.
Now, unless there is more that I'm missing in this code. I have a few guesses. (If anyone can think of anything else, I'd love to know.)
The classified document is most likely an image or YouTube thumbnail.
If it's a thumbnail, I believe it could be either:
A. Wotfi 2023
This one is because Mr. Puzzles had a YouTube thumbnail of the Puzzlevision movie, and I was thinking about how wotfi 2023 was the last big event before Puzzlevision. As well as Smg3 and Smg4 being the highlighted characters in it.
B. Snowtrapped..
Okay.. I know it has been milked to death by people submitting it for the Wotfi 2024 challenges. But, I feel like it could explain why it's in the document and considered classified. I'm not a fan of this one.
C. A thumbnail for a future episode.
Idk if it would make sense, but eh.. it could be cool.
Now, just some or one of the images that could be in the document.
A. Smg3's notebook.
An image of it or the physical book itself.
B. The drawing at the end of Smg3's notebook
Because it's still a secret to everyone that Smg3 drew a picture of him and Smg4 hanging out together.
C. An image of Smg3 and 4 hanging out or doing something that would be considered gay. Something that would embarrass Smg3 and/ or 4 probably.
Either way, if none of these options are right, I'm hoping we actually get to see what's in the document or that the code is foreshadowing something.
I also used pager codes mixed with the baka I found before. I found these sentences, but I don't know if the creatives behind Smg4 meant for someone to use pager codes.
Swapped 2 & 1
(11)-(12-2)-(21) 2-1-11:1
K L B U B A K A
You. I want you. Home. Baka.
Swapped 2 & 1
(11)-(12-2)-(19) 2-1-11:1
K L B U B A K A
You. I want you. Yes. Baka.
Or
You. I want you. Hug. Baka.
As I said, I have no idea if the pager codes were planned or coincidental.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyway, I'd like to hear what other people think about my findings. And if others have found anything of their own.
This took me a while. If I find out this was a waste of time, I'm going to be so upset. /hj
Have a good one, guys.
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Ridoc Gamlyn x reader (sweetheart!)
Part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart's story
words: 2.9k
🏷: no real book spoilers, this will make more sense if you've read Resson (Garrick's version) but it's not required, set a week or two into Iron Flame, this is a sweetheart chapter so warning for intrusive / self-deprecating thoughts and anxiety spirals, I made a bunch of stuff up about Ridoc's life because RY never told us anything, Rhith being a cool mom, this hasn't been proofread, oops. gonna go have a bagel now byeeee
Rhith had told you that Ridoc would meet you at the gates at eleven — so naturally you’ve been standing there since 10:45, rocking back and forth on your heels and peeling your cuticles.
Why did you agree to do this? Actually, this was your idea — why did you bring it up? What if he’s not going to show up, and you’re just going to stand here for an hour like an idiot?
“Hey! Am I late?” he asks, startling you out of your thoughts. He’s a little out of breath, like he’d ran here, but he offers you a wide smile nonetheless.
You open your mouth to speak just as the bells chime.
“Guess not,” he laughs when they’re done. “You ready to go?”
You nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets so he can’t see the state of your fingers. Thankfully it’s not too hot to wear your flight jacket. This is your first venture into town, and you don’t want to have your relic on display when you’re in a new place — just going is scary enough.
He leads the way — of course he knows where you’re going. He probably goes out every weekend with his friends; another way you’re completely different.
“I figured we could play twenty questions,” he offers. “Get to know each other a little more. You can go first, if you want.”
You take a second to remember how to speak again. “Alright, um… do you have any hobbies?”
“Coming up with jokes is pretty time consuming.”
“And here I thought they were all completely spontaneous,” you say, shaking your head. “Do you write them all down in that fabled diary of yours?”
He laughs. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t actually have one?”
You tilt your head to the side, considering it. “Only because I don’t see you spending your free time sitting down, writing.”
“You wound me, sweetheart. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of writing complete sentences.”
“I never said you weren’t. I just said that I didn’t see you doing it.”
“Fair. Tell me about your book,” he prompts. “The one you’re always carrying around.”
“That’s not a question.”
He gives you a sly smile. “Well played. I’ll rephrase, then. What’s the book about? Do you like it?”
“That’s two questions.”
He laughs, warm and full. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Three.”
“Okay, okay. The first one, then — what's it about?”
“The main character is a trained assassin who is called before the king to join a contest to become his hitman, basically. But the contestants keep getting murdered in the night by some creature that they can’t track down. It’s part of a series, but I’ve never seen the other volumes anywhere. I like to imagine a different ending every time I read it.”
“You’ve read it more than once?”
You ignore the fact that that’s yet another question, answering it without protest. “Yeah. I know that’s dumb, but it was the book I was in the middle of when my life went to shit. It’s technically property of the library in Aretia, but it was burnt to the ground, so I never gave it back.”
Your heart beats a little faster at the mention of your hometown, and you immediately regret bringing it up, but thankfully Ridoc seems none the wiser.
“There’s nothing dumb about it if it makes you happy.”
You’ve just stepped into the tiny restaurant when a man that you guess is the owner sees Ridoc and pulls him into a tight hug. “I was wondering when you’d bring your girlfriend!”
Your cheeks warm, but you don’t correct him — that would be too awkward.
Ridoc doesn’t correct him either. “I set up Ezra here with ice that never melts,” he explains with a smile.
“It’s been a blessing. Keeps everything fresh longer, so I don’t have to waste it. You two sit — I’ll make you something special, on the house.” He disappears into the tiny kitchen in the back, leaving the two of you alone in the nearly-empty dining room.
Ridoc gestures to a table in the corner, away from the door, and you settle into the chair silently. You can’t help but run through Garrick’s mental checklist — your back is to the wall, and you have clear sight of the two exits. You have a knife in your right boot and one in your left sleeve — plus the blunt one laid on the table in front of you. The fork would probably do more damage, though.
“I think it’s your turn.”
“Hm? Oh. Right.” You take a moment to look at him. “Why are you here?”
He gives you a stupid grin. “Because you asked me on a date.”
You roll your eyes. “No, I mean, why Basgiath? Why the rider’s quadrant?”
“Oh, I know. I just wanted to remind you that this whole thing was your idea. But really… probably because I’m an adrenaline junkie who feels like he has to prove to the world that he’s not an idiot. And I’ve always admired the riders and their magic. We can do some pretty cool shit.”
There’s a pause, and his voice softens as he continues. “I know you didn’t want to be here, so I probably sound super ignorant saying all that. I do think it’s fucked up that you didn’t get a choice — and the way that they handled all of it.”
“I respect your answer. It was honest.”
His turn for a question. “How do you feel about it, really, being here? Not here as in here,” he clarifies, tapping the table, “but at Basgiath.”
You look at him for a second. “Is that your question, or…”
“It can be. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we can go back to the dumb ones.”
“No, it’s fine,” you say quietly, thinking for a second. “I’ve accepted it, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”
He’s quiet, giving you space to elaborate — the same way Garrick does; not prying, but silently offering to let you tell him what you’re thinking, if you want to.
“Challenges are the one thing here that doesn’t scare me, because I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know what to do if someone takes a swing at me, and I know how to disarm someone, because Garrick made me practice hundreds of times. But everything else…”
“Is uncertain and unfamiliar, and therefore scary,” he finishes for you.
You’re a little surprised by the gentle tone of his voice, the lack of judgment in his words. “That pretty much sums it up.”
Another pause.
“I’ve had an anxiety disorder pretty much my whole life,” you admit. “I was that kid in school that everyone thought couldn’t speak, because I never talked to anyone, except my siblings. Liam was my first real friend who was my age. He didn’t mind the quiet. We would just sit together, and he’d do his wood carvings while I read my books. That was good enough for both of us.”
“Where are they now? Your siblings, I mean.”
You’re silent for a moment, looking down at the tablecloth and the barely distinguishable pattern of flowers woven into it.
“I know that’s two in a row for me,” he says, backpedaling. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“I had a brother and a sister. They were eight and ten years older than me, but they were my best friends. I think they knew that I didn’t have anyone my age, so they always let me tag along for everything until they left for Basgiath.”
“They went here?”
You nod. “As infantry. When they graduated, they joined Fen Riorson’s movement, and a few years later, they were executed along with my parents.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Something compels you to keep talking, to push past the awkwardness and condolences. “I don’t mind talking about them. It’s hard, but they were an important part of my life, and they deserve to be remembered. Losing them was devastating, but Garrick and my foster sister helped fill that void.”
You trace a fingernail over one of the tiny flowers. “I think… I think that’s why I kept pushing you away, and why I haven’t really made any friends here. Being marked doesn’t help, but I can never let myself get close to anyone, because everyone I’ve ever been close to has left me, one way or another.”
You can’t bring yourself to say “died” — and that wouldn’t be quite correct, either. Garrick is very much alive, last you’d heard, but he’s at least a twelve hour flight away.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I only met her twice, but she was always kind to me and everyone she met.”
It takes you a second to realize that he means your foster sister — as far as Ridoc and the rest of the school know, she’d died at Resson along with Liam and Soleil.
“She was,” you say softly.
It feels weird speaking about her in the past tense. You know she’s not dead, that she’s safe with Brennan and the elders, but the last time you saw her, she might as well have been — she’d felt so cold, and looked so drained, unable to respond to you or even open her eyes.
She has to be awake by now, starting to recover. She has to push through, if for no reason other than that it would absolutely shatter both you and Garrick if she didn’t.
Ridoc exhales, choosing his next words carefully. “I really am sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that, especially so young. But for what it’s worth, which probably isn’t a lot — I think you’re handling it all incredibly well, and you’re really brave for it.”
You, handling anything well? and being brave? Yeah, right. You take a sip of water to cover the look of dry disbelief on your face, but he sees it anyway.
“I mean it. Bravery isn’t “never being scared”, it’s “being scared but doing the scary thing anyway”, and you’ve been doing that every day for the last year — for your whole life, honestly. I think that’s admirable.”
You blink at him for a moment, surprised.
“It’s true,” Rhith says gently.
“Thank you,” you say softly — to both of them. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”
He offers you a soft smile. “I think that’s enough deep questions for now. Thank you for telling me all of that, though. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But I feel… lighter.”
“Lighter is good.”
Ezra arrives at the perfect time, holding a tray with two plates of steaming noodles and two glasses of water, placing them in front of you and making a quick exit.
Ridoc brushes a hand against his glass, and you watch the pattern of frost crawl over the edges as it chills itself near instantly. “Want me to do yours?”
You blink, realizing he’s speaking to you. “Sure. Thank you.”
He pushes the cold glass toward you, taking the other and chilling it for himself.
The question comes out before you can think. “How long did it take you to get used to the cold?”
He looks up at you, surprised. “Not long. A week, maybe. I run hot, so sometimes it’s kinda nice.”
You nod in understanding. He’d been warm to the touch when he’d wrapped his arms around you, and you’d melted right into him. That was a first. But so is this, and it seems to be going okay.
You both eat without further discussion, every minute of quiet a little more comfortable than the last. The food is good — better than anything they serve at Basgiath.
“So, where’s home for you?” you ask after a while.
“Deaconshire,” he answers. “My dad’s still out there. It’s been just me and him for a while.”
“Not too far, then,” you comment, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his mother.
“Yeah. I’ve thought about going AWOL for an afternoon, just to see him for an hour or two. But at least the letters will arrive fast.”
“Right,” you say softly, pushing the last piece of pasta around your plate idly.
It hadn’t really sunk in yet that you can write letters now, as a second year. You could write to Garrick, but it would be too dangerous to send anything to Aretia, with the professors reading everything to make sure there’s no classified information being spread. You might be able to write to the Duke, and hope he passes it on to the right people, but that would still be deemed suspicious.
Maybe Bodhi could help you.
“Where’d Garrick get stationed?” he asks.
“Samara,” you answer quietly.
He winces, knowing that’s right on the front between Navarre and Poromiel, but he recovers quickly. “He’s with Xaden, right? They’ll take care of each other.”
“Yeah.”
“They’ll be fine,” he reassures. “They were the two biggest, most intimidating dudes in fourth wing. Nobody’s going to mess with them — but if anyone’s dumb enough to try, they’ll get what’s coming to them. And they can definitely kick ass in the air, too.”
He’s right — they’ll be fine.
Probably.
“Yeah,” you say again, hoping it sounds convincing. “They can definitely hold their own.” But against wyvern… what if what happened to Deigh happens to Chradh or Sgaeyl, and there’s nothing they can do?
You force the thought out of your head before the universe can hear it and make it come true.
“You ready to head back?” he asks gently.
You nod in affirmation, and he gets up, finding Ezra. The owner bids him a cheerful goodbye that includes a hearty pat on the back, while you stand by the table and offer him a weak wave and a soft thank you.
The walk back to the school is quiet, only the crunching of gravel under your boots, but this time the silence isn’t as loud.
You’ve already said everything you needed to say, laid all your cards face up on the table and shown them to the other — almost all of them, you think with a little flare of guilt, but there are some things you just can’t tell anyone, for the sake of Tyrrendor in its entirety.
“This one’s mine,” you say quietly, stopping in front of your door.
You call it yours, but it doesn’t feel that way. Just because you sleep here and your stuff is piled up in the corner, yet to be unpacked, doesn’t make it feel like yours, and doesn’t make it feel safe, despite the ward that Garrick had helped you put up before he left for Samara with Xaden.
Ridoc offers you a warm smile. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’d really like to see you again, if you want.”
“I’d like that too.”
He lingers, and for a moment you’re worried that he’s expecting something of you, but he remains a few steps away, his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” you add. “For today. And for finding me yesterday.”
“Of course, sweetheart. And next time you start to feel that way, you can have Rhith tell Aotrom to get me, okay? You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.”
“Okay,” you say softly.
He gives you another knee-weakening smile before he heads off, disappearing into a room that must be his — eight doors down, on the other side of the hall.
You make it inside just as the bells strike twelve thirty. The afternoon is still young.
You decide to unpack — starting by shoving the box of your sister’s things into the bottom of the armoire. You’d burned most of her stuff, to maintain the appearance that she’s actually dead, but you and Garrick had both taken some for yourselves. Malek couldn’t get mad about that, right?
You don’t know if you should worry what he thinks or not — you despise him for taking everyone away from you, but you need to remain in his good graces if you want to keep the few people you have left. But you aren’t sure how — it remains unclear what you did, or didn’t do, to deserve that.
“It was nothing you did,” Rhith says gently, startling you. “And you didn’t deserve it.”
“Sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to project that to you.”
“We’ve talked about the apologies, sweet one,” she prods. “They’re never necessary.”
“Sor—” you stop yourself before you can finish the word. “I’ll work on that.”
She changes the subject for you. “I’m proud of what you did today. I know that was difficult for you.”
“It’s easier with him,” you say quietly. “I don’t know why, but it is.”
“Many things don’t require explanation. It is enough to simply appreciate them.”
Spoken like a true green. “I wish I could be as logical as you,” you sigh.
“There is value in both logic and emotion, but there is a balance to be found between them.”
You sit with the statement for a moment as you start to fold the laundry you’d shoved into a bag and dragged up the stairs when you’d moved, trying to smooth out the wrinkles to no avail.
“What do you think?” you ask. “about him, I mean.”
“I think he has a good heart. He genuinely cares for you, but it is your decision whether to trust him or not. And even if you do, there are some things that he can never know.”
“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”
“I’m proud of you, my girl.”
You’re a little bit proud of yourself too.
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Silm reread 18: Tears Unnumbered ye shall shed
So, we got here. But first, B&L get an epilogue.
First, a tidbit about reembodiment: B&L take their physical forms again in Doriath. I guess they go from Mandos to there in spirit. (It's all "allegedly", anyway). Everyone is happy and afraid when seing them (very reasonable reaction I think) and Luthien heals Thingol from (depression, more or less).
Melian looks in Luhien's eyes and is sad. She "realized they will be apart till the end of the world and after" (huh?) and again, we have Pengolodh's favorite stylistic tool: "nobody ever suffered more from any loss than Melian suffered then".
Oh, I found the quote in original: “But Melian looked in her eyes and read the doom that was written there, and turned away; for she knew that a parting beyond the end of the world had come between them, and no grief of loss has been heavier than the grief of Melian the Maia in that hour."
B&L go to Ossiriand, it vaguelly feels like they don't neet to eat anymore? But unclear.
Anyway, back to the proper plot Feanorians. Maedhros gained hope, because he saw Morgoth is not untouchable. He starts creating the Union, but the wording about him doing it … even without knowing the story, if I read it carefully, I would probably be worried about how it will go.
And we have a clear reminder of the Oath and all that. Orodreth doesn't trust the Feanorians because C&C (makes sense I guess) (Finrod would probably join the Union but anyway). Gwindor joins Maedhros, going against his king's orders… we know how this will end for Gwindor.
doriath. Mae&co had sent brash letters to thingol along the lines of "you will be our enemy if you don't give the Silmaril back" and Melian advised Thingol to give it to them! But he is angry at their tone and at C&C, and also B&L have suffered so much for this jewel…
Sidenote: If your main claim to a piece of treasure is "but I/someone have sufferred so much", keeping it is probably going to end badly.
Also thingol wants to keep the Silmaril, because it is this jewel's power…. wait what? "And every day that he looked upon the Silmaril the more he desired to keep it for ever; for such was its power." [original] WHAT.
Ok, that is new. So, the Silmaril is canonically addictive? Or is it only because it has been in Morgoth's crown?
So, anyway, Thingol sends Maedhros a dissing answer and Maedhros leaves him be, because the Union is more important. Yay, Maedhros, great job, you are doing well! (For now :((( )
Unfortunately C&C threathen Thingol with genocide, after they win the wart. Which they assume they will. So thingol fortifies and doesn't go to the war. (Mablung and Beleg go, but Thingol allows them reluctantely, so they end up better than Gwindor)
Bór! :) and Ulfang :(
Maedhros plays his hand a bit too early :(
Also, another mention of Morgoth's spies (plural) and traitors. So, I guess the fallen Men, enslaved Elves and shapeshifting wannabe-Saurons sabotage the Union as much as they can.
Battle, Fingon doubtful, problems, suddenly: Turgon! First good surprise of this battle (it will be a whiplash…)
The Noldor want to charge too quickly, but Hurin stops them, because he is wise.
Morgoth wants to kill Fingon especially. Why? Probably to break Maedhros. (Also, revenge for the rescue, maybe.)
Gwindor gets unlucky chance (that's what happens when you go to war against your king's orders, I suppose)
The Noldor get really motivated and almost win. Morgoth is trembling of fear XD as they bang at his door. This is pretty cool of them. But then they all die. :(
Another turn: the Noldor might have won, but Ulfang. :( [Maglor kills him and it's probably the only named character that we are told is killed by Maglor, which is interesting]
Also, Glaurung is there.
Fingon dies. Also, his banner is silver and pale blue, which I did not remember.
Hurin, Turgon, foreshadowing for Earendil. Maeglin hears it all, but does not comment, and he remembers it and I have no idea why the book tells us that, this line feels so odd. "Maeglin, Turgon's sister-son, who stood by, heard these words, and did not forget them; but he said nothing" It's apparently odd to more people because there's a reddit thread about it. huh, ok, makes sense.
So, Hurin is brave and great and I will need to make a post about how the story is an ecosystem and the benefit of one character's heroics sometimes lands to another character's lap and it's painful but also quite real. So. Hurin. But we'll get back to him later.
Morgoth is happy, because divides and betrayal and stuff like that. :/
Also this (Ulfang) is why the Elves don't like Men anymore (except the Edain).
Cirdan is besieged, allo we learn that there are Orcs who can use explosives, and orkish engineers and what not. Interesting. they destroy the ports, Cirdan&co escape to the sea and to Balar.
Turgon again sends ships to Valinor, again it doesn't work (again I suppose he didn't ask Ulmo about his opinion or ignored it), and we are told who kills those sailors: not the Valar. "Only one, Voronwe, was saved by Ulmo from Osse's wrath". So yea, it's the "not rebel, but not not-rebel" sea guy. Don't blame the Valar for this.
Turgon is the rightful king of the Noldor (says the book), Morgoth hates him, because Fingolfin, and because he's a friend of Ulmo, and because Turgon's vibe scares him. We have a wonderful line about how even back in Valinor Morgoth was anxious every time he saw Turgon and tbh this is criminally underexplored in fics (this whole period is) and must have been quite hilarious.
Hurin disses Morgoth, Morgoth curses him and his wife and kids, takes him high up, and curses him again for a good measure.
Results of that: in the next chapter.
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