#just a reminder to think about melkor today

[mirkwood]

are you thinking about melkor? have you thought about melkor? will you think about melkor? when will you think about melkor?

[dawnfelagund]

Hi!!! I was at the Tolkien conference today and I loved your paper!!! I was too nervous to ask during the Q&A, but I was wondering how the Catholic belief that you should not grieve the dead because they're in a better place had effected Tolkien's writing about death and grief. Especially in the context of his own life, and how he writes death as something to be celebrated and that it is a gift from the Valar.

Thank you so much!!!!

I'm glad you enjoyed the paper and thank you for asking about it! The paper Grief, Grieving, and Permission to Mourn in the Quenta Silmarillion is on my website (and the SWG), for anyone who is interested.

Whether or not there is a connection between Catholic belief and Tolkien's idea of "the gift of Men," I cannot say. There might be! But I think it's also important that Tolkien's eschatology for Mortals was emphatically not consistent with Catholic doctrine. At first it was. The Book of Lost Tales describes an afterlife for Mortals that Christopher Tolkien identifies as strongly parallel to the Catholic ideas of Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Christopher calls these lingering parallels "disconcerting." (This can be found in his commentary on the chapter Of the Valar and the Building of Valinor in BoLT1.)

In the published Silmarillion ("Of the Beginning of Days"), there is some degree of uncertainty still, among the Elves, about exactly what "leaving the Circles of the World" actually means: "It is one with this gift of freedom that the children of Men dwell only a short space in the world alive, and are not bound to it, and depart soon whither the Elves know not." This has always struck me as a very Elven perspective: They know that they are bound to the world and will receive no reprieve from it and will grow weary in its confines. It's a typical manifestation of the aphorism that "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence." To Mortals, who are subjected to this mysterious leaving of the world—often prematurely, from their perspective—this doesn't seem a great deal. We see this in the Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, where we actually get the Mortal perspective, and later in the unease of the Númenóreans about their fate. (Conveniently, any Mortals who don't go along with the Elven perspective are "confounded" by Melkor. Mmmm, right.)

But, importantly I think, these Mortals are not going on to a reward in their afterlife, like the Catholic conception of Heaven. They don't know what lies beyond the Circles of the World, and neither do the Elves. The Elves just think, whatever it is, it must be better than their own fate. It actually reminds me more of the Hindu concepts of samsara and moksha: release from the travail of constant rebirth, constant life. From the Elven perspective, Mortals just get to take off for the weekend; Elves are stuck always on the graveyard shift.

Now do I think that the Elven conception of Mortals getting the better death might explain why only six of sixty-four named Mortal characters in the Quenta Silmarillion are grieved or mourned. It is very possible that an Elven narrator saw these deaths as going off to something better ... but we know clearly that Mortals don't see it that way, so why Pengolodh doesn't report more frequently on the grief of Mortals for their lost friends and family remains an open question that I think is probably explained by bias: not so much political bias in this case but the bias of a long-lived being to the perceived ephemerality (and inconsequence) of shorter-lived beings.

Elven grief really has no parallels with Catholicism that I can see at all. While one can make the argument that death is the natural outcome for both Tolkien's Mortals and in Catholic belief, it is not the natural outcome for Elves, and "death" is an unnatural and certainly painful separation for them.

Finally, as for grief more generally, I think there are also two different things happening in how Primary World humans experience grief. I am not Christian and so cannot speak to Christian or specifically Catholic teachings around what is or is not appropriate in terms of grief, beyond what I can observe of the people around me in a culturally Christian country. But I wonder if "the Catholic belief that you should not grieve the dead because they're in a better place" is a different thing from grieving someone because you ... simply miss them. Even if you believe that you will be reunited in the afterlife with them at some point. But again, for Mortals in Tolkien's world, even this is confounded by the fact that there is no certainty of this; there are much larger questions for them than for faithful Christians around what happens when they die.

[kanafinwe-makalaure]

1, 10, and 22 for choose violence asks?

Thank you so much for your ask! These were so fun to answer!

🔥Send me a number to see more violence🔥

1. the character everyone gets wrong

Fëanor, and in a specific way - namely, his relationship with the Valar pre Melkor. I keep seeing this notion of Fëanor having been distrustful of the Valar from the start, and I just do not believe this makes much sense. He was their special little guy! They loved and adored him! Aulë said he was the greatest of the Eldar! Varda hallowed his Silmarils! Oromë accepted his son into the Hunt and even gave him a magical puppy!

To me, the most subtle, but telling piece of evidence is that when the Valar decreed that if Finwë wished to marry Indis, Míriel would have to remain in Mandos, whom did Fëanor blame? Not the Valar. Had he been inclined to distrust them in any way, he would have blamed them, I think, and not Indis and her offspring. It would have certainly been easier for him and his everyday life would probably have been a lot smoother if he didn't resent the people he (probably) lived with, but the Valar far away in Valimar.

Do I think Fëanor was super religious? Maybe not; there must have been some sliver of doubt that Melkor was able to work with, at least subconsciously. But I do think Fëanor never consciously doubted the Valar until Melkor came - that was the whole point of Melkor being there. I could see Fëanor really basking in the attention they gave him, and I can see him being best friends with Aulë in particular.

10. worst part of fanon

You thought I was going to bring up the Void again? Wrong! That is for another day. Today, I will speak on Fëanor and the relationship with his little half-siblings being portrayed as, well, horrible. I have already seen a post going around about how his relationship with them was probably a lot more nuanced than “he despised them” (I will look for that post and link it if I can find it); this is more about his treatment of them. This is just a small thing, but it is so important to me - namely, I despise Fëanor being in any way hateful or even just mean to them when they are children.

He is presumably old enough when they are born to understand that (even in his mind where he blames Indis for all his misfortunes) it is cruel to be mean to literal children, even to ignore them when they speak to you or want to play with you. I am fully convinced (and this is my personal headcanon of him) that Fëanor, no matter how he felt about them, would be nice to his little siblings in their presence. He would not ignore them or dismiss them, ever, because he could not. What he does is avoid his family altogether, by being home as rarely as possible. He loves to spend time at the forge or out camping with Nerdanel because being away from home is the only way he can avoid the dilemma of "the mere existence of this child reminds me of all my issues and trauma but he is so adorable when he asks me to read him his story book and I could not physically say no even if I wanted to, which I do not because I'm not a MONSTER."

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I made a post about this before, but after the Doom of Mandos is pronounced, Fëanor adds a line to it, just one line - that the deeds of the Noldor shall forever be remembered in song. Coincidentally, Maglor (who presumably never finds out the Doom is lifted, if Mandos could even lift Fëanor’s addendum with it at all) ends up wandering the shores of Middle-Earth forever in lament ...

Oh, it's just so beautifully painful and so narratively satisfying. A small detail that is easily missed, but it just seems to fit too well for it to be a mere coincidence. I think about it very often.

On a more cheerful note, I also love the passage of the Silmarillion where Finrod goes hunting with Maedhros and Maglor, but gets bored and simply rides off.

Really, that is what he does, that is what happens. It sounds as if he doesn't even tell anyone, he just rides off not to return. I like to picture Maedhros and Maglor panicking because they're worried people will think they murdered him or something.

[starlitwinter]

Holy Crap

Hello. I'm Sunny. And today I offer you my version of "Modern Girl in Middle Earth". But with what I would have done if I was in Valinor during the Silmarillion. I'm not from an English speaking country so sorry if there are mistakes. Being proud of my language and culture, I will put words in French and references to the French culture. I will give the translations and explanations at the end of the chapter!Little help: italics are for quenya

My updates will be when I've written something so uh... sorry in advance. Have a good read!

(Of course, everything you recognize belongs to our dear Tolkien!)

"Holy crap, why is Manwë in front of me?"

The man, or rather the Vala, stepped back and looked at me warily, surely thinking I was a servant of Satan. I mean, of our dear Melkor. Morgoth. Melkor. Anyway.

"How do you know my name, stranger? What are you?"

Oh fuck. Just why? I should have listened to Paul and learned Quenya. Also, isn't it a rule in fanfics that Y/N has a great integrated translator or is such a fan of Tolkien that they are fluent in Quenya? God-no Eru dammit! Help me with this!

"Answer." "You know what, I don't understand anything you're saying okay. I'm going to tell you about my last day on Earth, even if you don't get it. Well, it all 'started' on a beautiful summer evening."

And here we go for a ride! Start the flashback music!  ~~ " We eat! It's on the table!"

My brother got up from the couch, grabbing my phone before I could react.

"Luke. Give me my phone back." "Boo-hoo, I'm scared." 

He mimed crying before glancing at my screen and letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"ao3 again? And what are you looking for now?" "Fanfiction ducon."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not dumb sœurette. About who?" "The twins." "Which ones? Weasley? Skywalker?" "Not the Skywalkers! What do you take me for? That's seriously shady with... you know." "Well, I never know with you... And may I remind you that your name is Leya with a y and not an i? Thanks Maman."

Yes, you heard me right. Or read. My brother, a twin at that, is named Luke. And I'm Leya. Thanks Papa who is more than a Star Wars fan and thought it was funny to convince our mother to name us after the Skywalker twins. But our mother made a mistake when we registered with the Civil Registry. And now we are Luke and Leya Owes.

"Are you done staring into the void? There's no camera and this isn't a 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' type show."

A sharp and brutal return to reality. Thanks frérot. He waved my phone in front of my eyes and snapped his fingers (with his other hand of course).

"What twins? And then we can go downstairs to eat and avoid Maman's wrath." "Fëanor's twins. Ambarussa. Amrod and Amras. Telufinwë and Pityafinwë." "Ah okay. I see who it is. Here. Take your phone back."

He tossed me my phone while turning to go open the door to our room. I retrieved my phone on the fly (thanks to my reflexes) and followed him to join our parents.

"What took you so long!"

Our mother was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, hands on hips.

"Sorry Maman, Leya thought she was in a soap opera and was staring at an invisible camera. I tried to get her to react but she wouldn't stop until she finished telling her story.

As I went to sit down, I kicked him in the shin and smiled at our parents.

"Let's eat, I'm starving." "Be careful or you'll sink tonight."

As I kicked him in the shin again and handed my plate to my father to serve me.

"Don't say that Luke, I'm sure your sister is going to do great tonight."

Thanks for the support Papa. 

"But speaking of which, isn't it better that you don't eat before the race, chérie?"

I nodded as I watched my dad put some peas on my plate.

"Luce said I could eat a little beforehand just to. But nothing too big. Besides, it's in four hours..."

My mother nodded to support my words and everyone resumed eating. Three hours later, I was in the 'lodges' near the lake where I was going to do my first night race of the year. Despite the fact that the race was an hour away, I was already dressed in my wetsuit and my hair was already tucked under my swimming cap. The stress was starting to build. Still. Two kilometers in the dark is always extremely long. My coach, Luce, had her hands on my knees to stop them from shaking and was gently answering my questions.

"What if I miss my roll? Or get a false start!" "You keep going. You're fighting for the gold, Leya." "Even with a cramp? Can we really not go test the water? Imagine it's freezing and I'm getting hypothermia!" "That's what your suit is for. And then we are in summer, the water can't be like in winter. And you can't test the water. That's the point of this race, to get into unknown water. Every year, a new lake." "What about the cramp?" "Leya... How many times have you participated?" "Fifth. So yes. I know what to do if you get a cramp. The thing Benoit explains every year. The tab on the side and boom light. Sorry I'm stressed." "I saw that! But Leya. You've already brought us three silver medals and one bronze. That's already great. But this year is the last." "I know. After that I'll be too old. Well, in a manner of speaking. 17 is still young." "Leya. This year you're going for the gold. More than ever okay? Gold." "Yeah. Gold. Got it." "I'll give you your last hour with your family and friends. Then you jump in the water and bring back?" "The gold medal. Thank you, Luce. "Thank you instead."

She winked at me before walking out of the tent and my family and best friend walked in. My brother was the first to break the silence.

"Ready for the gold, Princesse?" "I think so. This year is my year. I can feel it."

Paul, my best friend since kindergarten came over to pat me on the shoulder. 

"You shouldn't have put on your swimming cap right away. You're keeping me from ruffling your hair Tomate."

Tomate is my nickname because when I was little and even now, when I get angry I turn as scarlet as a tomato. And therefore lose all my credibility according to Paul. 

"Let's make a bet Leya."

Him and his bets. How much is he going to talk me into learning Quenya?

"The conditions are? Because if I accept without knowing, I'm pretty sure I'll get screwed."

He looked at me with a fake outraged look before dramatically putting a hand on his chest.

"I am outraged by this attitude, jeune fille. And to answer your question, if you win the gold, I'll stop talking to you about learning Quenya. But if you win something else... You will take quenya lessons with me." "To please you I will accept. But be prepared for me to win!"

Afterwards, the atmosphere was lighter and we talked until Luce arrived.

"It's time."

I stood up and gave a small smile to my family and Paul before leaving the tent. A small breeze caressed my skin and made me shiver. We walked until we reached the edge of the lake, where the race would begin.

"Ready?" "Ready." "You're going to make it kid, and don't forget..." "We're taking the gold home." "That's good."

She left, probably to join the other coaches. Almost all the participants had arrived. Focus. Speed. I am speed. One winner, fourty two losers. I eat losers for breakfeast. Speed.  Faster than fast. Quicker than quick. Wait. Am I doing the beginning of Cars 1?  The first shout of the referee sounds and without having understood what he said, I automatically put on my glasses and get in position to jump. I can do it. The start is launched and I jump to make a great dive. Great start. Ready to feel the water wrap around me and start swimming. But. This is the ground I encounter. Grass. Grass? Bruh. Where's the water? 

"What the hell is this?"

I took off my glasses and my head spun from the bright light my retina perceived. After a few seconds, I could see the beautiful plain that had replaced the lake and the forest.

"Where the fuck am I?"

I stood up before I heard someone speaking to me in an unknown language. 

"Is everything okay?"

I turned around to face a guy. Tall. Handsome. With long white hair. His clothes were strange, but so were mine. Being in a wetsuit in the middle of a plain is suspicious. But what shocked me the most was behind him. Two gigantic trees. And they were shining. One gold, the other silver. Telperion and Silpion. I believe. So that means... the guy. That's Manwë. 

"Holy crap, why is Manwë in front of me?"

And there it is. You know everything.

[effervescentdragon]

Silm/F1 AU drabble

because y'all are terrible enablers

"It's going to rain."

The clouds were gathering before their eyes, slowly but surely darkening the sky.

"Inevitably," Maedhros said and allowed himself a small smile. "I'm still going to win."

Next to him, Fingon snorted. It only made Maedhros smile wider. "You're starting on P12. Turno is on pole. I think you're overestimating yourself."

"No, not really," Mae said, finally turning to look at Finno. His hair was braided away from his face today, and the headset he had on was buzzing with the engineers' chatter. He was as beautiful as ever.

"Oh?" Finno whispered. "What makes you so sure?" He asked, his gaze mischievous, and Mae felt the adrenaline in his veins, the same heady rush he always felt before a race.

"Well, I have this engineer," he started with a grin. "I just snatched him away from the opposing team, and he's really good."

"Yeah?" Finno asked, biting his lip to suppress a smile.

"Yeah," Mae said, just looking at him. "He's amazing," he continued, and his voice lost all traces of jest. Finno noticed, his eyes softening. "And even if I didn't believe in myself, I believe in him," he finished, his voice reverend.

"Oh," Finno said. For a moment, there was silence between them, and all Maedhors wanted was to pull Finno close to him, even though he knew he couldn't.

The rain started falling.

"Yeah," Mae said, turning to leave and commence final preparations for the race. "I always believe in him."

***

"They hate the halo," Caranthir frowned. "All I've been seeing these past three races is public outcry of how much they hate the halo."

"I don't fucking care," Lalwen hissed. Next to her, Findis frowned at her language, but said nothing. "It's in the regulations, and it's about goddamned time, and they'll just have to fucking deal with it!"

"I know, but maybe if we-" Caranthir started to say, but Lalwen cut him off.

"Maybe if we what? Maybe if we what? If we disregard our drivers' safety and ask for it to be removed? Is that what you were about to say?" She said, and her eyes flashed. She reminded him so much of his dad then, that he dared not say anything.

"Go, baby," Findis said to him, before turning to Lalwen. "And you, you insane woman, chill the hell out. Nobody is removing the halo."

"Yeah, except Angband has been pushing for it hard," Caranthir mumbled, and then froze when both women turned to him.

"They have?" Findis asked, something in her tone dangerous. Lalwen couldn't speak, she just stared at him.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "Melkor was talking to some people about, you know," he withered a little under their combined stares. "Uh, lost marketing opportunities and, uhm. Public outrage?"

"That motherfucker," Lalwen whispered. "That stupid, evil motherfucker, I'll tear him limb from limb-" She schreeched and made a move to leave the room, but before she could, Findis grabbed her hand.

"Wait, sister," Findis said calmly. Caranthir gulped. That calmness didn't bode well for anyone. "Nephew," she turned to him. Besides her, Lalwen was shaking. "Tell us everything."

***

"You just have to pass the first turn and not slam into either Finrod or Galadriel," came the beloved voice in his ear. "And then pass the fourth curve without slamming into anyone. You think you can do that?"

Mae laughed. "And maybe I should fly instead of drive, how about that?"

"I mean," came Fingon's tinny reply through his speaker. "I did basically build you a space shuttle, so you really have no excuse."

Before he could reply, Feanor cut in.

"That's enough chit-chat. Essential personell on comms only. Are you ready, Maedhros, Celegorm?"

"Yes, father," came their synchronous reply, born out of years of conditioning to answer to that tone of voice, and Mae flinched. In his ear, he heard a cough masking a laugh very badly, and he smiled. As long as he had Fingon in his ear, everything would be alright.

"I'm ready," he said, and the beast underneath him came to life.

***

"I don't like how Sauron is so close to Mae," Feanor murmured low so only Lalwen could hear him. She made no movement to show she heard him.

"Findis went to check on some things," she whispered. "Melkor has been lobbying for scrapping of the halos."

Feanor's fists clenched against his will.

"I don't like this at all, sister," he said, his eyes on the monitors.

When she turned to leave, called away by Celegorm's engineering team, she kissed his cheek and lingered, whispering into his ear.

"Courage, brother. Mae is your son, he knows what to do."

As the pre-race anticipation rose, along with the wind and the rain on track, Feanor couldn't help but think, It's not him I distrust. The ominous feeling in his chest persisted.

***

It was the words nobody wanted to hear.

It was the words everybody prayed never to hear.

It was the words that rang out like a gunshot; a lightning strike; a heartbreak.

"Red flag, red flag, red flag."

The fire burned.

[shadow13dickpistons]

Uhhh do SHADOW for the ask meme

Oooh, what a fun idea!

Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

I had two asks with Ss in them, but no prompts! So, okay, there’s the obvious ones, (Aldarion spending so much time in Middle-Earth because he’s giving the D to Gil-galad, Sting as originally being a dagger for Idril), now I’m really scratching my head....OH! Here’s a controversial take and something I was thinking about today: Fingon and Maedhros not being married, because of the cousin taboo. 

Alright, alright, alright, so: Fingon’s rescued Maedhros, the rift is healed, yay everything. Fingolfin pulls Fingon aside and is like, “Son, you know I need you to marry. Preferably a woman.” Argon is dead; Turgon will have no other children beyond Idril; Fingolfin has the preternatural knowing that he will not survive against Morgoth - their people are going to look to Fingon. And what will he then do, marry his own cousin?? How can he do this, the Noldor need him. 

Yeahhhh, it’s angsty. All about how Fingon does what dad wants, marries a Sindar of Cirdan’s people, has Gil; but still goes to Maedhros at the drop of a hat (oh, they fuckin’). But yeah, the metas on why Russingon doesn’t violate the cousin taboo are valid, but imo, it’s impossible for Fingon and Maedhros to have any kind of happy ending, and I am firmly in the Gil-galad-as-Fingon’s-son camp. (This got longer than anyone expected.)

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)

I’m not sure I entirely understand this question, what kind of fandoms do I gravitate to? Cause “source text” to me is, like......what sources do you site in your fan participation. If the former, idk, anything that strikes my fancy. The latter, specifically for Tolkien (because that’s all I care about anymore), I’m one of those tiresome people who prefers the books to the films, so first and foremost the actual text. For easy retrieval, I tend to use Tolkien Gateway, but about the only thing I strongly disagree on with that is their take on Gil-galad, so there you have it. The One Wiki to Rule Them All is good, not quite AS good for book stuff, but great for film and game stuff. (But then again they have the “correct” take on Gil-galad, so.)

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

-rubs hands in glee-

Okay, okay, okay. So.......this is just Tolkien. Cause that’s all I care about now. But, in no particular order (caps are “I will lose my mind over this ship,” non-caps are just “I like/write for it.”):

Aredhel/Eol

Beren/Luthien

TUOR/IDRIL

I....oof, look, it’s not that I LIKE Turin/Nienor it’s that.....I’m so compelled....like a fuckin’ train wreck, yo.....too fascinating....

ELROND/CELEBRIAN

ARAGORN/ARWEN

Gimli/Legolas

BILBO/THORIN

Frodo/Sam/Rose (also acceptable: Frodo/Sam, Sam/Rose. My only OT3 ever, really.)

Faramir/Eowyn

Eomer/Lothiriel

Boromir/Theodred (also acceptable: aro/ace Boromir)

Dwalin/Ori

Celebrimbor/Fem!Narvi (this could quickly veer into I will lose my mind territory)

Is it weird I’m kinda into Elrond and Gilraen comforting each other and being a lowkey couple?

I can’t believe I almost forgot Sauron/Melkor, the OG power couple

I think that’s.....more than plenty.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

God I want to like Caranthir/Haleth. Well, I DO like Caranthir/Haleth. I just......I just really believe Haleth likes the ladies.....Fully here for Caranthir realizing he’s pining from afar, though. Like God, this should really be my type, but I just.....

I’m not as into Russingon as so much of the fandom is, but I don’t dislike it. But I’m really not part of the Feanorian hype train, don’t fully get it. 

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

God, I don’t have all my music on my laptop and I don’t really use Spotify, I’m not sure I CAN do something random.....Let me see.....RANDOM PANDORA??? 

Niiiiice, “Rebel, Rebel.” Damn, you know, I feel like I just had a thought about this the other day.....Let me think here.....Yeah, sorry, I got nothing. If you want me to redo this one, by all means.

W - 5 favorite ships and 5 kinks you like best for said ships

Oh man, oh man, oh man. Uhhhhhhhh. God, it would really help if I were kinkier.

Bilbo/Thorin and I don’t know how to explain this one, but like.......power bottom Bilbo??? Like, sure, it looks like Thorin’s in charge, but whose hand is he eating out of, does that make sense?

NO, SAME ONE AGAIN, SEX ON THE THRONE DURING THORIN’S GOLD SICKNESS, THAT HAS TO COUNT AS A PUBLIC SEX KINK. Not, like, IN public, like at night, but they could get caught.

.........................same one again, banging on the gold, Bilbo only wearing the mithril. I’m not sorry.

If I say Gimli/Legolas can I just say “all” for kinks? I mean.....................leather, for a start. 

You know what, I’m going to throw a curve and say “Ar-Pharazon and Sauron, bondage. But the whole time, Sauron is plotting in the downfall of Numenor and dreaming of sex with Melkor.”

“What about Aragorn/Arwen?” He’s a virgin until the wedding night, give him a SECOND.

Omg, that was so fun, I hope it wasn’t boring. Keep ‘em coming, guys!

[admirable-mairon]

Yet another tiny crossover Fanfic for Swilmarillion!

Yeah you read that right. 

Remember the whole Sauron meeting the Modern!AU gang? Ever wondered what would happen if Sauron was to come with them to the office? Well here we have some of it!

I’ve been meaning to get around to this for so long, @swilmarillion​ <3 It’s not too much but it is something to get my creativity flowing ;)

Also as a tiny reminder of what Modern!Annatar looks like!

Mairon was heading towards the roof, rather disgruntled and admittedly a little nervous. He had been at a meeting when Melkor decided to turn up, which wasn’t necessarily an uncommon occurance, but today Melkor had apparently decided to bring his demon to work. As in the literal demon he had accidentally summoned that had previously shown itself to be able to walk through doors, melt things by touching them, and was determined to pick apart literally everything it came across. That last fact was the reason Mairon was nervous - He simply couldn’t afford for all of his hard work to be undone by a demonic entity...!

Another thing that was nagging him just a little was the fact that the demon had looked eerily similar to a DnD version of himself every time he had seen it, and to have a duplicate with an appetite for chaos walk around didn’t bode well. 

When he arrived on the roof he spotted three figures rather quickly. Two of them were easy enough to recognize - Melkor and Gothmog - but the third was.... Not what he had expected. 

Tall (of course), broad and strong shoulders, beautiful smooth dark skin and the dark braids put up in a rather striking but casual hairstyle. His shirt was tight, as were his pants.... And on the whole he simply looked like a rather handsome ‘prep’. 

The three were apparently taking a smoke break, though Melkor didn’t have a cigarette like the other two. Instead he just occassionally took a drag from the prep’s cig... And very much stopping once he spotted Mairon. 

“Mairon! There you are! I couldn’t find you before and Thil warned me against interrupting your little meeting” Melkor called out, grinning in a way he was sure was charming (Mairon would never admit that it was), and Mairon frowned. 

“Yes, that would be true. Interrupting my meetings is never a good idea - especially when the purpose of said meetings are to bring you more money and power” he pointed out, glaring at the supposed demon who simply grinned back at him. 

“So uptight, little spark” it chuckled as it took a drag of it’s cigarette. No smoke emerged once he was done. 

“Cut it with the nicknames, Crowley. What are you supposed to be now? An intern who was locked inside a storage for Forever 21?”

“I am supposed to be a hired consultant, according to my lord” it said, taking yet another drag of the cigarette without letting the smoke out again. “I was told, however, that Tar-Mairon would be confusing for your poor little servants, and so I instead go by the name Annatar”

Mairon kept his expression firm and still at that, despite the chill that went through his heart as he heard that. Annatar.... That was an alias he occassionally used in some places online.....! How in the fuck did this demon keep doing that...!?

“I figured it wouldn’t help” said Melkor, noticing that Mairon was uncomfortable and attempting to comfort him at least a little by wrapping an arm around his shoulders so he could lean in and kiss his forehead.  “Annatar has many abilities that could be useful to us, but in order to actually help getting Angbang to the top he needs to know what’s going on here.You are the best engineer we have, and with his ability for magic and other thing-a-majicks you two could potentially be unstoppable! We literally have a lesser God at our disposal, Mai! Surely you don’t think we should waste this opportunity?”

Well fuck.... Melkor did have a point there, reluctant though he was to admit it. It could help, and it wasn’t like the demon would understand any of his own work anyway, so he wouldn’t be replaced... 

“... Fine. But if he breaks my models or computers, I’m going to skin him alive”

“Oho~ Kinky” Annatar simply chuckled, and ate the rest of the cigarette. 

---

“So these are your servants?”

“I wouldn’t call them that”

“Goons? Slaves? Cattle?”

“Sometimes that fits, but no. They’re my team of programmers”

“Do they work under you? Do your bidding?”

“‘Do my bidding’ - God you’re such a cliché....”

“Just answer the question”

“Yes”

“Then I would say that qualifies them as your servants”

Mairon rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee as the two of them watched over the work in the hangar. This far they were unnoticed, but that could change.... Or well it COULD have changed, but Annatar seemed to do a trick with the shadows, which meant that literally no one could see them even when looking directly at where they were standing. 

“I thought you said you never eat anything that isn’t alive” he pointed out teasingly as Annatar brought his own cup of coffee to his lips. That actually brought a laugh out of him, and he grinned at the shorter man. 

“You remember that, huh? Well, you are right. I don’t like eating dead things.... But this... This drink still has some form of energy that I find enjoyable. And the taste is lovely” he shrugged, before tapping a finger against the edge of his cup. 

“... So, what kind of surveillance do you have? You have some way to keep track of their activities, yes?”

“I certainly do” Mairon replied, grinning sharply himself. “I have logs upon logs filled with information about what they do, and don’t do. They know I’m watching, but if I hold off from scolding them the moment they do something wrong, they sometimes relax and think I haven’t noticed. Until we have a big, official meeting where I can tell them off and shame them in front of their colleagues. I enjoy watching them squirm in the knowledge of their own failures and my disappointment”

That brought out yet another laugh of the demon, and Mairon honestly didn’t know if that made him proud or not. 

“Ah little spark - We truly are alike!” he chuckled, nudging Mairon gently with his elbow. “.... What is your policy on intimacy between servants?”

“.... Depends” Mairon replied, his eyes narrowing and for once he didn’t correct him. “Why?”

“Well becacuse those two-” Annatar said, pointing at two of the people below. “- just had sex”

“What?! How do you-?!”

“I can smell it” he grinned, tapping his nose. “And I’m fairly certain I know where it happened as well”

“Oh?”

“Storage area on floor 3″

“Motherfuckers - That’s our place...!”

“.... Want to come up with a creative form of punishment?”

“Yes”

[swilmarillion]

Who is better at math and physics between Melkor and Mairon? I bet Mairon finds those moments where Melkor functions like a human computer incredible sexy

That’s a tough call, honestly.  I mean, Melkor is, despite all appearances, damn good at math, but Mairon is an absolute whiz.  If it was classroom, conceptual math, Mairon would have it in the bag.  If we’re talking applied math and physics, though?  They’re both good in their own ways.  Mairon can think through complex computations and problem-solve little nitpicky things like no one’s business.  Melkor is good at coming up with hands-on solutions to mechanical problems.  They’re good at math and physics in different ways, and it makes them a great business team.

As for Mairon seeing Melkor at work...

               “Woah,”said Mairon, standing in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob.  Melkor was sitting on the living room floor, chewingabsentmindedly on the pencil in his hand, papers scattered in a three-footradius around him.  

               “Hey,”said Melkor, not looking up.  “There’sleftover Chinese in the fridge if you want it.”

               Maironclosed the door and hung his bag on the hook in the hall.  “What are you up to?” he asked, walking overto where Melkor sat, stopping short of the outer circumference of paper debris.

               “I’mreviewing some designs for new body structures,” Melkor said.  “All the results came in today.”

               “Andyou’re reviewing them?”

               “Hey,”Melkor said, looking up at last, managing an affronted scowl.  “I do some work here and there.  You know, when they need someone with anactual brain.”

               Maironlaughed.  “Okay then, Poindexter,” hesaid.  “What’s the verdict?”

               “I’mnot sure,” Melkor said, frowning and looking back at the paper in his lap.  “I had a team on each design, and I have togo through each one of their results packets to make sure I have all thenumbers I need to make a determination.”

               “Soundslike some serious work,” Mairon said.

               “Don’tmake fun,” Melkor said.

               “I’mnot,” said Mairon.  He mostly meantit.  

               “I’vebeen trying to sort through these packets for an hour,” he said, annoyed.  “They’re in no distinguishable order.  I can’t even find half the shit I want tocompare.”

               “Iwould sympathize,” Mairon said, “except that I’ve gotten similar input from youabout seventeen times too many.”

               “Shutup,” said Melkor, with no real venom in the words.  “Just let me bitch, will you?”

               “Here,”Mairon said, plucking a page from the piles in front of him.  “I see stress testing on this page.  Let’s start there.”

               “I’dlove to,” Melkor said.  “Except I thinkpacket number three forgot that section.”

               “Thenthat one’s out for testing,” Mairon said.

               “Fairenough,” said Melkor.  “Which one do youhave?”

               “Four,I think.”

               “Here’stwo,” Melkor said, handing him a page.  “And…”Helooked around for a moment.  “Here’s one,”he said, picking up another page.  Theyspread the pages out on the couch, and Melkor turned around to look at them,Mairon leaning over the arm of the couch to help.  

               “Areyou kidding me?” Melkor said, making a noise of disgust.  “Look at this.”  He jabbed a finger at submission numberone.  “They did one replicate.  One!  Whatthe fuck kind of determination can you make from one replicate test?”

               “None,”Mairon said.

               “Idiots,”Melkor said, shaking his head.  “I swearto God, my whole department is full of morons. How do these people even get degrees?”

               “Easykiller,” Mairon said, trying to stifle a grin.

               “Isthis what it’s like to be you?” Melkor asked, rubbing his eyes.  “Just constantly reminded that everyonearound you is way dumber than you are?”

               “It’s astruggle,” Mairon said, laughing.  “Although,I have to say, it’s much more entertaining when it’s not happening to me.”

               “Nowyou know how I feel,” Melkor said.

               “Touche,”said Melkor.  He sighed, running a handthrough his hair.  “I feel like I need tosit my whole department down and give them a crash course in how to dostatistics for fucking dummies.”

               “I’dpay money to sit in on that class.”

               “Oh,yeah?”

               “Oh, ahundred percent,” Mairon said, absolutely serious.  “First of all, seeing you teach a class wouldprobably be the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

               “Hey,”Melkor said, affronted.  “I’m good atmath.”

               “Oh, Iknow,” Mairon said.  “But watching youtry to explain it to people would be priceless.”

               “Imean, that’s fair.”

               “On theother hand,” Mairon said, “I probably couldn’t actually handle sitting in a class,watching you teach.”

               “Whynot?”

               “Becausewatching you do actual work and say smart math stuff is, uh, how do I put thisdelicately?  Oh, right.  Reallyfucking hot.”

               “Really?”Melkor said, sitting back on his heels and giving Mairon a look.

               “Absolutely,”Mairon said, nodding solemnly.

               “Well, then,”Melkor said, standing up, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face.  “Sounds like you need some privateinstruction then.”

               “I likethe sound of that,” Mairon said, reaching out to run a hand slowly up Melkor’schest.

               “Wantto start now?” Melkor asked, taking Mairon’s hand and kissing his palm.

               “Very, very much,” Mairon said, putting hishand to Melkor’s face, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

               Melkortook Mairon’s hand and pulled him close, heedless of the papers scrunchingunder their feet.  Mairon put his armsaround Melkor’s neck, pressing himself to Melkor’s chest, and kissed him, hisfingers curling in Melkor’s hair, pulling gently.

               Melkor pickedhim up, and Mairon wrapped his legs around Melkor’s waist, kissing himagain.  “Come on,” Melkor said, his voicegaining a rough edge as he started down the hall.  “I know exactly where I want to start.”

[stardustmuguet]

Going Back to Zero, Sora Part 2

It was clear but a cold night. There was snow on the ground and yet no cloud in the sky. Inside a starlit room, a noldo elf was lying on the bed. She was pregnant and there were a few days left for her to give birth to her child. But that night was destined different for her.

She was sleeping and holding her belly. And then her eyes opened with a sudden pang and her water broke. She was about to give birth. Thence she shouted to Lóteriel, her maiden and her friend.

”Lóteriel! Where are you? Lóteriel!”

But there was no one to answer her. Her labor pain was getting harder but she stood up and started to walk to find someone to help her. She tried to go further than her house but the secondary pang stopped her from doing that. She realized that she had to give birth to the baby on her own. So she went back to her room. Her eyes were darkened and then she saw her: A young lady, wearing an unknown armor, looking at her. She was beautiful and reminded her of Mairon. Thus she understood that was her daughter, which she was about to give birth. She disappeared and then Calarië felt another strong pang. She was hardly able to sit on her bed and her visions multiplied. She saw a bay and an unknown woman holding her daughter's hand. Then she saw her crying and covered in blood; her fiery soul and acting like a male warrior, and she saw her crowned and thousands were bowing to her. Her visions ended there and with another pang, she gave birth to her. At that moment she was looking at the starry sky and she saw Valacirca’s second star divided into two different stars. Then she heard her daughter's cry. Quickly she took her into her arms. She really was beautiful and Calarië cried too. She looked into her fiery blue eyes and they remembered her the fire. She smiled and caressed little baby's head. “Haldanaríë,” she whispered to her baby.

”The secret fire, that's your name from now on.”

As she held her baby Lóteriel rushed to the room and saw the newborn baby. Her eyes opened with shock because there was still a week for her to be born. She was unable to say a thing and then they heard the horns.Calarië felt the panic rushing in her veins, she knew they were coming for her baby. She suddenly grabbed Lóteriel’s hand.

”Go bring some clean water and clean clothes for me and the baby. Quick! We have no time left!”

Her heart was beating faster, she held the baby tightly. Lóteriel came back with clothes and the warm water. They washed the baby and put some clothes on her. She was a cute baby with her black curly hair and her round face. Then Calarië put a dagger inside her swaddling clothes. The dagger was given to Calarië by her father and its meaning was big for her house. She thought maybe if their roads will be separated the dagger may reunite them again one day.

She felt a pain inside her heart; she didn't want to left Haldanaríë. But she had to do that, thus she looked into Lóteriel’s eyes:

”I need you to do one last favor to me,”Her tears fell.”

“Hide her into the secret room and go to my dad; tell him that I was sorry.”

Her voice was trembling, and Lóteriel looked at her with a declining expression:

”No, my lady if you want me to go to your dad then you should come with me! You can't left little lady on her own, you know what happens when a newborn left motherless!”

Calarië turned her eyes to somewhere else, her eyes were harsh. She closed her eyes,

”I can’t,” she said with a ruthless voice.”I already said to them only my corpse will return there, so it will be,

”Haldanaríë will be raised by a more valuable mother than me. Thus I have no regret.”

Therefore Lóteriel accepted to take the baby away and informing the Lord about what's happening.

Now Calarië left on her own again. She stood up once again and then the second baby moved inside her belly. The baby was about to come but she was unlucky. Calarië grabbed her cloth tightly. She wasn't aware that she was carrying twins. And now she was heading to her death with her unborn child.

The assassins come with an unusual way. Their leader was openly showing her face as she came on her polar bear. She was a strong female maia and she mastered at the all forms of water especially the ice.

They entered the House with a fiery attack and killed everyone who got into their way until they reach the main house, where Calarië was staying.

Calarië felt and heard that they were coming, thus she headed to the entrance. She was full of sadness.

” Forgive me, my children, ” she said on her own,

”Forgive this weak elven maiden once a princess of the House of Finwë. Who chose her heart instead of her pride and her family. Forgive me because I couldn't become a filial daughter. Yet I never betrayed my people, that's one of my regrets. Oh, I wish, I wish I could have told him that I was only trying to learn and create. Oh, Mairon my dear one, forgive me because I can't carry this burden anymore. My soul is weak and I won't be able to give birth to Haldamirë. Goodbye, my lover, goodbye my children; if only we had more time to spend... ”

She knew that she will be separated from Mairon into forever, she had foreseen it. However, she accepted her fate. She had no regrets; she was happy to be his wife, even that would cause her death. So she stood at the door as Nemmíre, the ice maia appeared before her. She looked at maia’s eyes with anger,she wouldn't forgive her and her comrades.

Nemmíre smirked at her and she spoke,

”So it was you, who misled our lord Mairon.”Her eyes were trying to catch a weakness from her but there was none. Calarië continued her silence and then she said,

”He won't forgive you nor my child will.”Nemmíre laughed.

”Won't he?” she asked. She was annoying with the elleth.

”There will be no child to forgive my sins dear, ” she said as she walked toward Calarië. Now they were face to face: The white-haired maia and the black-haired elleth.

” My revenge will be taken, ” said Calarië.

” Not today. ” Nemmíre smiled and answered, as she stabbed her belly.

Calarië paralyzed with the sudden action and the pain. She fell from the stairs as she felt her baby's last moves inside her. She fell to the snowy ground and it began to turn white to red because of her and her unborn baby’s blood. The other assains tried to take her body but Nemmíre stopped them.

”Let her body remain. Let Mairon see what happens when you betray our Lord Melkor.”

Thus they left the house and they never suspected that there could have been another baby.

...

As Calarië heard the warning horns Mairon noticed them too. He was working on a new weapon with his servants at that time and as he heard the horns he rushed to the house. But Gothmog got into his way. Obviously, Melkor was trying to stop him going there but Mairon was a strong maia so he got rid of Gothmog easily. However, he was too late; Nemmíre was already succeeded in her job.

He felt like he was drowning when he saw the blood-covered garden and his lover's dead body. But he was mistaken, she was still alive, though there was only a little time left. Then he rushed to Calarië’s side, taking her into his arms, crying with anger.

”Mairon?” Calarië whispered, ”Is it really you?”She caressed his face, trying to smile. Mairon cried again when he felt her cold hand on his face.

”Stop, he said, don't try to move!”

Calarië smiled at him.

” I'm sorry, if only...” but her words were cut with a sudden cough. She was coughing blood. Mairon’s eyes opened with shock. But Calarië continued,

”I hid our daughter inside of the secret room,”” You must take her away before my father arrives here. You must take her somewhere Melkor cannot reach.”

She was crying,

”This is my last wish from you, you'll do it if you had ever loved me and if you care about our child’s future.”

She looked into his eyes, and he accepted her wish. He silently left her in the middle of the garden, lying on the snow and slowly poisoning because of the dead baby inside of her belly.

...

Loteríel rode her horse faster than ever to reach Lord Fingon. And when she reached there she ran to him and kneeled before him for the forgiveness of her Lady Calarië.At first,Fingon ignored her, because his anger toward his daughter was continuing. But when he heard that the assassins were trying to kill her, he jumped on to his horse without thinking. With a couple of soldiers, he went Northeast to save Calarië.

She was still lying on the snowy ground. She caressed her stabbed belly and silently cried. ”So you're leaving me too Haldamirë?”

A tear fell to the ground.

”Good, she whispered, thus you and your sister won't be separated.”

She smiled once again then looked at the sky, her expression froze and her smile began to fade. Now there was only amazement inside of her eyes.

”Stars, look how beautiful they are.”, she said one last time, soon she was passed.

Her death was pretty opposing the tragedy just happened. Lying on the bloody snow, with the winter flowers around her and unexpectedly bloomed lotus flowers inside the just melt pond. Her eyes weren't shining with the hope anymore but her expression of amazement lasted on her face. She was beautiful than ever and this was how her father found her.

Fingon paralyzed when he saw her dead body like that. Then slowly walked toward her. He fell to her side and hold her cold hands. He was shocked and blaming himself for what happened to her. Because if he didn't banish her maybe that would never happen. He cried and then he screamed with the pain of losing his daughter while holding her in his arms.

Mairon was watching him while he was breaking down. He was holding his newborn daughter in his arms, wearing a cloak. He thought himself,

”You earned it Fingon, and this is just the beginning.” Then he left without giving him the chance to see his granddaughter.

When Lóteriel found the room with open doors she understood that someone already took Calarië’s child. Then she rushed to Fingon’s side, crying;

”They have taken her! They have taken Haldanaríë!”

But she saw Calaríë and she stopped crying. She just froze where she stood because she understood that they were too late. Both the mother and the child were lost. ...

Mairon was desperately running away from the North. He knew that Melkor was responsible for this and he wanted to keep his promise to his wife. Because he was loving Calarië deeply as he loves Melkor. Thus he wasn't able to forgive his master. He has gone too far by trying to kill both Calarië and his daughter.

Melkor’s servants were following him. He felt their existence as he ran between the oaks. He changed his road to making them confused. But he went into a wrong road, soon he was near to a cliff. He looked around to find a way out but there was none. Then he looked to the below from the cliff. There was a river, and he thought if he uses his powers they might get a chance to survive. So as the dark creatures jump to catch them, he jumped from the cliff, tightly holding his baby daughter. Then he fell into the river. To their luck, he was able to keep the baby dry. He ran over the river by creating stones on it. He was happy to be that lucky, but then he saw Ossë.

In seconds he was surrounded by the maiar of Ulmo. He hid the baby inside his cloak but she was shining like she was a silmaril. Therefore Ulmo saw her. Then growled at him,

”How dare you to dwell in my waters, servant of Morgoth?”

He was looking creepier than ever and as Mairon got scared of him, his daughter felt his fear and began to cry. Thus Ulmo heard her. Then his appearance changed and became more like an elven appearance. But still, he was looking dangerous.

Ossë tried to attack Mairon with anger but Ulmo stopped him at the same moment with a simple glance. Then Uinen spoke,

”He is holding an eldar child!”

Ulmo looked at him with suspicion.

”Whose child you're stealing?”

Mairon stood where he was standing and he took his daughter closer to him. He was looking at him with somewhat insane eyes like he was ready to do anything to protect the child.

”She is my child!”, he shouted at him.

”And I won't let you take Ilwië away from me!”

He was crying.

As Ulmo heard the name Ilwië, he remembered what Eru have told him. Then he understood that he has no other options than take her away from his father. So he spoke,

” You are already surrounded by my maiar, Mairon. You have to give the child to me or you both will be destroyed.”

Mairon wasn't able to understand the situation. He stood and his grip over Ilwië began to fade. Then Uinen took her from his arms. He couldn't move for a few seconds then he tried to get his daughter back but he was stopped by Ossë and the others. He screamed,

”Give Ilwië back, ILWIË! ILWIË!”

Then Ulmo said to servants,

”Throw him back to where he came from.”Thus Mairon was separated from his daughter, crying and screaming her name. Ulmo took Ilwië in his arms and looked into her eyes. At that moment blue runes appeared on her left cheek and disappeared.

”From now on I am your father, you will call my name when you need help and love of your lost parents.

Your fate will be both glorious and terrible, and you'll get to power to conquer the lands of the east. But now you need a mother to look after you, thus I will let you go by the river.”

Then he created a basket for her to sleep in it. He put her inside of it then push it toward the south.

”Now cry Ilwië, cry if you want a valuable mother. If you don't then you'll go to the bad hands which will be the worst for your future.”

Then he let Ilwië go.

[blankdblank]

Modern Soulmates Pt 3

Slight Smut in the beginning...more Thorin stumbles

Right at sunrise the next day when for a board meeting the Durins on their way to the fleet of cars outside their home all paused in inspection of the finished product next door. Freshly power washed the magnificent mansion that dwarfed theirs and greatly surpassed it with its newly power washed pale brown stones that in the sunlight seemed to glow adding to the beauty of the few massive stained glass windows and the massive hand carved door out of mahogany. Breathless for a few moments they took in every detail of the home the hadn’t seen in such condition since they had moved here from the Blue Mountains. Then the grip of keys in hand reminded them of the upcoming meeting they all got back to their path off to work.

While their company did not blend much with Mordor Inc the declining health of their CEO and founder and daily stories of the future of the company with supposedly no plan in place or single person to take the wheel the Durins had to ready battle plans for talks on trade deals already in place for whoever was given the reigns. All of the news stations had been chronicling each of the Wraiths who had hired lawyers to stake their claim for the fight to come when Melkor had met his untimely demise. And every single one of them privately had been informed that this was a case they could never win, though publicly the façade continued just in case.

Upon arrival however when everything was on the table and the board of Mordor Inc was on a call on speaker for the entire clan board of Durins to hear the stunning news that for years before Melkor had fallen into this coma they had all voted in agreement of his choice for interim CEO. One who had been able to uphold the standards that Melkor had laid in place and held since the founding of the company. Investors and share holders were solidified in their support of the company after their own previous encounters with said new CEO who the Durins had haltingly accepted the fact that said CEO was otherwise busy most days with other interests and had entrusted the board to keep day to day watch with check ins at least once weekly.

Contrary to what the Wraiths were throwing on the possible fate of the company the steadily rising stock prices and rise of value of all products offered by Mordor Inc seemed to confirm that things were trustworthy for the Durins. They had to bide their time and uphold their ends of the already settled contracts and deals until they could meet this new person who was at the helm of this major empire the press assumed was up for grabs.

That was the truth. The board had every faith that the company was in good hands and with nearly daily texts, emails or calls if anything did come up you were just a drive away. Much like today not even half an hour when they got the intercom warning from the lobby that you had arrived. Prior to your hospital trip to see to the latest offered ideas you had been sent, open suggestions of middle grounds on the ones they could not agree on that simplified the task to move either way later on once the effects of these changes to grow from there. The simpler tasks were handled with ease and word of the call from the Durins had the board go over a full recap of the deals that you held with the Durins just in case of any changes they wished to offer later on when you did actually talk with them on business matters.

But that would come later, much later when Melkor’s health would go however it was meant to go. When the change may or may not be official and a new name in charge would require new contracts to be drafted for a few of the contracts your company held. In pain beyond belief you made your way straight to your grandfather with an ache to simply be with him. Still in denial over having to spend each day without him since he’d collapsed. Completely supported by Dewey and Legolas who were in charge of the paint and wallpaper crew and sent updates that you tried to share with your unconscious grandfather of each in a happy tone with hopes that one newly painted wall or interesting wallpaper could snap him out of this to hear more about the home you still had an entire wing reserved for him when he could get better. Furniture would come next and talk of what you had designed already from the delivery of wood you ordered came up along with talks of your workshop in one of your two garages to build it all inside of.

Promise of an ordered dinner gave you a virtual pick me up as you stood outside of your vehicle in the parking garage when visitor hours ended. A few moments later you managed to unlock and climb into the open door to begin another drive away from the one person you ached to bring home and show off the fruits of his plans to have this dream home come to life as it had. Warm hugs were the reward for having made the trip without more than a few stray tears. And with supper taken to the living room a film was to be chosen by Legolas to watch while you ate. The process of locating that film had him flipping through the channels only to stop when a press conference with Melkor’s wife and her brats halted his finger above the button to click away.

A claim they were locked out of the board meetings was followed by questions from reporters who aimed to test the validity of their claims that they had the only rights to the company. Each question was answered with even to the most novice person could tell that they had no clue what the answers to any question offered that proved to the world that they were useless and had no chance of being handed the keys. Just three questions in and boldly the press began to leave to be followed by shouts from the spurned idiots to only lure on more headlines for new reasons of their own.

Thranduil muttered sarcastically, “Well, they are doing a magnificent job.”

Legolas nods, “At least they’ll have their names in the papers a few more days.”

You laid back against Dewey’s chest that made him curl around you as you let out another groan, “Can’t we just lock them up somewhere?”

They both chuckled and Legolas answered, “Don’t think there’s a deep or dark enough place to lock them in.”

Meanwhile next door the Durins all grouped around the large TV in their living room watching the press conference Thorin’s anger swelled as it continued, unsure of why, Dwalin nudged him. With a silent nod at his fist on the verge of ripping the leather off the arm of their couch, “Careful there Thorin. What’s got you so riled up?”

The words drew the attention of his family, he cleared his throat as he released the fist full of leather, “My Mate must be watching this nonsense as well.” Rubbing his face as his family chuckled. “Clearly loathes that lot.”

Dis, “So, what is she like then?”

Thorin looked over at her and let out a groan, “Haven’t met her yet, spotted her twice though. That SUV next door, she was driving it. Next time I see the Greenleaves I’m going to ask them who she is.”

Balin, “The Greenleaves?”

Thorin nodded, “Saw her leaving their driveway the day before the construction started, they’ve been helping with the work I suppose.”

…

Nearly half an hour too long an amorous morning with Dewey ended out of a hasty required task to get dressed and head out for the day. Him off to his next landscaping job while you and Legolas were off to your new University for the registration day. The spacious campus seemed to stretch on far beyond what you could see and with your leg propped up to secure your wedge booties with the ribbons to tie on the front one at a time to aid in reaching anything that might be out of your reach. As usual just by the crowd of future students passing by were well over your head in this Elven school built to accommodate taller bodies unlike your feisty petite self. A chuckle from Legolas turned your head and he said, “Missed something, nearly had a 2319,” and a tug of a stowaway sock from the back of your tight black shirt that was fresh from the dryer had you shake your head in a giggle.

“And Dew Drop walked behind me too. He’s set me up to be tackled and shaved.” The both of you grabbed your bags and climbed out, him with a smooth of his hand over his shirt and you with a fix of the waistband of your jeans.

With it locked behind you together you started the path to the first stop designated on the itineraries you had been sent. Smoothly enough the process was handled with his arm that looped around your lower back in a habit whenever he caught someone staring your way and your giant Dew Drop wasn’t there. Any possible advances were thwarted by his contact, while each absent stroke of your fingers between your loose curls hung over your shoulder and part of your face that had in the past lured many a stranger over to the appeal of the peaceful expression your face shifted to when lost in thought to keep calm in bustling crowds. From ID’s to paperwork and a few more books you were to pick up as they were unavailable for early purchase each step was crossed off including a stop to let Legolas check in with his chosen clubs and timelines for team tryouts.

On the way to the next to last stop and again his arm eased around your back in the electrified slide of familiar blue eyes over your body as you passed. Unable to stop you Thorin across the courtyard in a swarm of females bent on the goal of his phone number. Lost to the chance to speak to his Mate under the arm of the youngest Greenleaf he was certain that they knew you well and could help him meet you once he explained his interest in you.

As you wove through the crowds Legolas chuckled, “Well he certainly got a good look at you that time. Won’t be surprised if he comes chasing after us.”

You let out a quiet groan as you slipped into the last sign in room, “If he does I’m sprinting for the car.”

After waiting in line you got your second set of IDs more specific to your fields to grant you access into deeper parts of the library and computer databases, where you grabbed your last sets of manuals and books for those fields and headed back to the car.

Thorin had once again been thwarted at his attempt to speak to you. But watched carefully as you wove through the crowd avoiding contact with everyone but Legolas’, trying to figure out why. He let out a huff and turned away from his last obstructer ignoring them and strode off for his class to wait until the staff meeting starting in a short while. Once you had returned home you both set up all of your things. Including the dinner you had picked up.

Dewey came straight for you when he arrived first to hug and kiss you again before turning to his son who had wrapped his arms around you both making you chuckle. Among the process of the day he filled in his father, including Thorin’s behavior that had Dewey chuckle and guide you to eat with an internal assumption a visit from the Dwarf might be coming so he could get to meet you.

The next few days came with as much time with Melkor as possible between bouts in your workshop and focus on those textbooks you had just gotten in hopes to get ahead in those classes. In just one day you had nearly finished all of them. Everything you could need was gathered and left to wait for your first day. Then simply turned to be curled in Dewey’s arms for one kiss that led to Thorin’s night of tossing and turning from your dreams when your earring had slipped off.

A trail of lips down your back was eased by the shift you made to silence your alarm. Over your ear one of Dewey’s hand moved to slip your earring back in place then trailed down your back. Determined to cup and squeeze along the way to the gentle sink of his teeth into your butt cheek on the skin left exposed by your small panties that barely covered them halfway. After a gentle press of his lips landed there and then did the same on the other cheek in a grip of your hips to turn you over and tug those panties down in one move. All across your thighs kisses were left on the way to your core to see you to euphoria more than once.

A shower was came next, for which he lifted you in his arms and carried you into the warm water in a step out of his boxer briefs he pushed down. One more reason to stay home was the feel of his hands in his chosen task to help you scrub clean and rinse off again to a sudden slip of fingers inside you again to the plant of his lips in the dip of your neck. Firm on his lips when his head pulled back yours planted and his fingers eased back in your turn and loop of arms around his neck. Off the ground with his body able to take the weight of yours without a thought yours lifted to wrap around his middle. Muffled against your lips his chuckle died at your hand that dipped to ease him inside of you.

Down your neck his lips moved to plant there and he hummed in a full plant of you against the wall to thrust deep inside of you with no intention of letting you go. “You’re going to be late.”

Through a breathy giggle you replied, “Worth it.” Making him chuckle again and his hands ease across your body to cup and caress as he wished.

Returned from his trip to fetch drinks to power your day after a stop at the gym Legolas parked out front where he’d pulled up just moments after you had made your way out. Over the top of your tight thin tank top you jerked your long thin sleeve shirt and Thranduil’s worn green flannel shirts over the top of that. While he pulled out of the driveway your trusty wedge booties were tied on again once you’d secured your seatbelt. To the lower of the visor to use the mirror there he smirked asking, “Forget to set your alarm?”

On top of your lap the makeup bag you’d unzipped sat as you replied through a weak chuckle, “Slept through it.” Eye liner, mascara and nude eye shadow was added before a simple fluff of your curls came to ensure it laid over your ears to ensure your earring was covered to avoid that conversation again with more people who lived to be singularly centered around a bond with their destined person and no others.

The caramel apple cider he had brought you was sipped on when you leaned back again with makeup bag back in your schoolbag. Turn to turn he glanced your way fully aware of the worry that read across your face. Parked in the lot the pair of you climbed out and back at your side he gave you a warm hug knowing you were off to separate directions. “Don’t let him get to you, if he does let me know.”

You nodded, “I will, see you later.” Both of you split in trade of a small wave and were off through the crowd to your first class.

Mentally by use of the map you memorized in the last hallway you turned and stole a glance at the clock along the wall to find yourself 20 minutes early. A stern voice with comments of your Grandfather sounded, spouting off the same cruel comments on his public reputation that repeated years worth of so called facts on his personality and treatment of his workers. “The old man should just roll over and give up, leave his Company to someone who could actually make something useful and positive out of it.” With one final arm flailing out the stern Dwarf got a sharp sting in his chest when his arm collided with something turning.

Sharp his head turned when he heard a quiet gasp as a drink spilled over his arm. His eyes froze on you as you bent to pick up your bag that you had dropped, his eyes focused on the drink that had spilled out over your chest and hands. He held out his hand to steady you as you stood, speaking in the same stern voice though this time with a hint of concern, “I didn’t see you there.”

The tall Dwarf next to him with a matching pair of eyes watched with concern as you pulled a washcloth out of your bag. Wiping off your hands and avoiding his touch and gaze to wordlessly. Promptly you turned and walked away from him as you tried to wipe off your chest, throwing your now empty cup in the trashcan nearby and turned the corner to slip into your class.

Thorin was now shaking as he clenched his jaw pulling back his hand slowly exhaling to keep from bolting after his Mate with a soft growl as he turned back to his cousin who said, “How hot was the drink?”

Thorin let out a soft grumble in a glance at his now stained sleeve, “Not very.”

Dwalin let out a breath and he glanced in the direction you had gone, “She probably went to go clean up, looks like she got the most of it down her shirt.”

Thorin nodded and he tried to quench his silent rage as your refusal to touch him, “Probably.”

Dwalin patted him on the back, “I take it that was her then?”

Thorin nodded, “Yes it was.”

Dwalin gave him a chuckle, “Just give her a break, it’s not the best way to meet your Mate, having a hot drink dumped all over you. Just roll up your sleeve and next time you run into her, try to not actually ‘run’ into her, especially if she’s got a drink in her hand.” Thorin nodded again and they both went to their classes as he unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up to hide the stain then repeated the action with the other sleeve.

..

Thankfully the classroom sat empty and in a downward glance you eyed the massive still warm stain across your chest. Best you could the warm liquid across your chest was wiped dry and the flannel you borrowed was removed to ease the removal of your long sleeved shirt. Folded and tucked into an empty pocket on your bag with the wet side inside the flannel was pulled on again to help cover your now almost fully exposed cleavage and bra through the thin tank top. Thankfully it was mainly stain free except for the left side near to the thin left strap. Easily hidden by buttoning the flannel at the third button to keep it closed while you bit the inside of your lip to keep from crying from your Mate’s cruel comments about your grandfather. Nothing you hadn’t heard before but from him those words hurt all the more with how close him and Thror had been. Onto your desk you settled a notepad and your pen while your mind tried to force your body to stop trembling from nerves at the continued sting of your Mark from that collision.

Glances between your notes to the ring Dewey had given to you that sat on your right ring finger kept your mind too distracted to let your body drop any tears. Right in the center a halo cut deep purple stone was surrounded by two half circles of the same shade, each circled by shimmering white stones and forest green topaz. The matching second band accented with unseen ithildin accents of bluebells was topped by more shimmering white stones and forest green topaz. The reminder of your true love you were glad to see was untouched by the drink. Thoughts of the Partner you had chosen and not the one forced upon you by nature lured you back to center again knowing he was going to be at home tonight to cling to while you fought against everything nature was in a try to force upon you and all you had dreamed of.

.

The next few classes went smoothly, after which to the library you went. With a wish to double check a chapter from a book you had read years ago to silently prove your imaginary argument with the student who tried to argue back with the teacher trying to prove he knew better.

As you left you were bumped into by a thin young man who had lost his balance trying to place his books back in his bags. He turned giving you a good look over his grey cardigan with a pale purple shirt on under it with a grey tie and jeans with clean expensive running shoes under, with a familiar shade of piercing blue eyes and reddish blonde short hair brushed to the side, “Oh I’m terribly sorry.”

You gave him a small smile as you steadied him, “That’s alright, you’re not the first one to crash into me today.” He let out a nervous chuckle and caught your eyes, flinching slightly at their purple shade before realizing it and gave you another smile as he offered his hand, “Ori Durin.”

You accepted his hand, “Jaqiearae Pear.”

“Oh…so you’re last name isn’t..”

“Mordor? My mother took my father’s name, though I have considered changing it back, but my grandfather said it would probably be better to grow up without his name he said it’d be easier for me.”

He took a nervous step, “So you spent a lot of time with him, Melkor I mean?”

“He raised me after my parents died.”

His smile dropped as he took a small step forward at your face dropping a little, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“So what are you studying?”

Your smile came back a bit, “I’m starting my graduate courses to become a veterinarian.”

“What a small world, so am I. Are you going to work with large animals or smaller ones, I’m hoping for a spot in an aviary working with exotic birds.”

“The common field with house pets and the like. I’ve already got a job at a small Vet office not far from here.”

His smile grew again, “Really, do they work with birds? I’ve got an internship at the zoo with the bird sanctuary.”

“We get the occasional chicken and parakeet or cockatiel, mostly we have to send them to a different office for treatment if it’s nothing past a damaged wing or foot.”

“When are you heading for lunch?”

“Just now, wanted to check something first.”

He smiled again as he slung his bag back over his shoulder, “Good, if you wanted you could join me, we could talk more about our course plans if you like.”

You nodded, “Sounds good.”

As you headed back out you spotted a young thin tall blonde woman with a neon pink shirt and matching shoes with a familiar brown cherry on the side of her neck, as Ori started saying, “You know, I wonder what my family would say if they heard I was having lunch with Melkor Mordor’s granddaughter.”

“Thror and Melkor served in the War together you know, they were really close until my parents died.”

He glanced over at you quickly, “Really?”

You nodded, “That’s why we went to his funeral, to pay respects to his old friend.”

“That’s why…I was little when he passed, I just remember hearing about it later.”

“Are you taking a spot in the Durin Company as well?”

“I have a part time job in the filing section, but I plan on focusing on animals, there’s tons of Durins around to run the company they don’t need me. You?”

“I’m the interim CEO, I’m going to be handling both jobs, I have some cousins, but it’s mostly just me right now.”

He glanced at you with a slightly concerned look as you wove through the crowd, “Is he going to get better?”

Your voice broke as you spoke out softly, “No.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry Jaqi…I can call you Jaqi?”

You glanced over at him with a small smile giving him a quick nod, “Yes.”

He smiled again before turning back to look at the courtyard. The last empty table was the clear goal. On its own the button on the flannel eased itself undone to let it flow around you drawing a few people’s attention. Including two pairs of piercing blue eyes from across the courtyard, Thorin intently held his gaze that made your mark tingle as he took in every inch of your exposed skin and tight shirt from the neck down the exposed bust. From the stain he left on you to your stomach his eyes scanned again with a disappointed huff when your thin shirt was still not thin enough to tell if you had a small heart on your stomach.

Dwalin beside him chuckled to the grunt that followed your hand closing the flannel over your chest again, then said, “Nice body she’s got there.”

He chuckled again as Thorin turned and shot him a glare, “Do…”

He raised his hand to cut him off, “Joking, Thorin. She is gorgeous, but you know I’m not going there.”

His eyes furrowed as he grumbled and turned back to you, “She’s friends with Ori…wonder how they met.”

Dwalin chuckled again as you both settled into the table and both pulled out your lunches and started to eat, “So no threats to Ori?”

Thorin chuckled as he crossed his arms still watching you closely, “I’ll speak to him later.”

His eyes darted to a muscular tall blonde Elf who headed straight for your side. Once there he straddled the bench and wrapped his arm around your back and kissed your cheek as he brushed your hair back, speaking in Elvish, “Dear…” Switching to Common tongue, “What happened to your shirt?”  His hand moved from your belly to the collar of your flannel shirt out so he could glance at the stains.

“Ran into someone this morning, spilled my drink, you should see my other shirt. Oh, Haldir, this is Ori Durin.”

They quickly shook hands, “Haldir Lothlorien.”

Ori, “Pleasure.”

Haldir, “Have your classes gone well?”

“So far, though one of my Professors seems to be glaring at me at the moment.”

They both looked around and Ori’s eyes stopped on his Uncles giving them a quick wave, “Those are my Uncles, Dwalin and Thorin, which one were you talking about?”

“Thorin, I have him later today…” You looked back at your schedule, “And Dwalin as well apparently.”

Haldir, “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

Ori nodded, “Just his face, he stares like that at everybody even family.”

Haldir, “Well, if he gives you any trouble let me know.” Running his finger through your hair again as he shoots a glare right back at him, then looking back at you softly, “No offense there Ori, but the older Durins I’ve met are quick to feud.”

Ori chuckled as he caught Thorin’s glare turn to a heated scowl as Haldir stroked your cheek before giving it another quick peck, “Oh, no insult taken at all, when it’s not with other people it’s all aimed at family.”

“Oh Haldir, you should drop in the library while you can.”

“Really, why’s that?”

“I spotted your Mate.” His eyes popped open wider, “She should still be there, the blonde one with neon pink sweater and matching shoes.” He quickly hugged you and kissed you on the cheek.

“I gotta go see her!” He paused and his face dropped.

You caught his eye switching to Elvish again, “You go, consider us over, you’re free to go fly through the clouds with your Soul Mate.” Shooting him a wink.

“I won’t forget this. I know we will all be great friends!” Hugging you again happily as he sprinted off with his bag, Thorin caught your saddened look before you masked it again as you mumble to yourself, “You’ll forget me, people always do.”

You glance back at Ori, catching Thorin’s glare pulling back a little as he watched you intently, “So you two weren’t-?”

You chuckled, “Not really, no. His parents kept bugging him about having children since we were little. Wanted to wait for his Mate, so he needed a beard, so I sit on his arm at parties and I get to be with my Partner the rest of the year.”

He smiled again, “Your Partner? How long have you been together?”

“Nearly 6 years now.”

His eyes darted to the ring on your hand again, gently grabbing it and pulled the hand closer to him making Thorin’s glare come back when he noticed the massive ring, “This from him? It is a him right?”

You giggled, “Yes he bought it for me. We exchanged rings at Christmas.” He let go of your hand and you brushed back your hair as two other Dwarves joined you, one with Durin blue eyes, blonde hair and another with deep hazel eyes with matching hair, both saying, “Ori just who is this angel you’ve managed to snag?”

You glanced up at them and their faces went blank as they caught your purple eyes, “Jaqi Pear.”

Holding out your hand for them to shake, both taking turns, “Fili.”

Fili leaned in closer and you caught a glimpse of his yellow star mark on his collar bone and the orange bird just above Kili’s right elbow as Fili said, “Pity you don’t have a star under there.”

Gently sliding the collar of your large shirt to the side as Kili grabbed your sleeve and lifted it slowly, letting out a huff as there was not bird there saying, “Kili. No bird either, damn.”

Fili, “Any feathers?” Glancing at Ori who rolled his eyes as Kili lifted your left sleeve turning your hand over searching for the small yellow feather matching Ori’s on his left wrist, saying, “No feather either.”

Both of their eyes darting to Ori who said, “We’re both studying to be veterinarians. Though she’s a few years ahead of me.”

Both, “Oh.” Smiling again.

Kili, “I’m gonna be an architect.”

Fili, “I’m studying Law.”

They both turned as they caught Ori’s glance at their Uncles who were still watching, then turned back, Kili said, “Looks like you’ve met our Uncles.”

“Not officially, I have their classes later.”

Both, “Ah.”

Fili, “Should go well.”

Kili, “Hope you enjoy essays, Uncle Thorin loves them.”

“Well I enjoy writing them, no problem there.”

Fili, “And Dwalin loves a good surprise test.”

“Good to know.”

Fili, “So who was blondie?”

“Guy I used to date.”

Kili, “Looked a bit too friendly to be used to.”

You giggled, “As of 3 minutes ago, it’s used to, I spotted his Mate in the Library.”

Their faces dropped, as Fili said, “And he just left you like that?”

“We weren’t that serious, just went to parties to shut his family up about having kids someday.”

Kili blurted out, “Kids, how old are you that they’re talking about children already, you’re still in University!”

You giggled again, “I’m 22, but he’s in line to help run Lothlorien Inc one day, needs an heir, not all of us breed like Durins.” Making the three of them chuckle again.”

Fili, “Oh come on, I hear Melkor’s got 9 children just raring to take over.” He let out a chuckle.

Your face twitched into a scowl that you tried to fight back, “They aren’t his children.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Fili, “Sorry, meant it as a joke, anyone with eyes could see that they’re not his.”

Kili, “Especially after that disaster of a press conference. Not an ounce of sense between them.”

Fili, “I take it you’re not close then?”

“When my grandfather got sent to the hospital their mother kicked me out. She’s been trying to take my seat for years.”

Ori, “You’re homeless?”

“No, he bought me a house, just fixed it up, moved in that night.”

Ori let out a relieved sigh, “Oh good, if you hadn’t there’s tons of room at our place. Though I’m sure you could always stay with your Partner.”

Fili/Kili, “Partner?”

Fili, “He know about blondie?”

You nodded, “Ya, our families are old friends, our relationship isn’t exactly front page news.”

Kili, “Why not?”

“He’s older. Nearly 10 years.”

Fili smiled larger again, “Ah, so he’s our Uncle’s age, how long have you been together?”

Ori, “Nearly 6 years, bought her a ring.”

Their hands reached out to grab your hand making Thorin clench again, “Wow…Must be loaded!”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand back resting your chin in your palm giving Thorin a chance to see the large stones sparkling in the sunlight, Kili asked, “What’s his name?”

“Thranduil Greenleaf.”

They all smiled and Ori said, “Oh so you’re our new neighbor then. It looks fantastic, have you furnished it yet?”

“Thank you. I’m working on it.”

Ori, “Where are you shopping?”

“I’m building it not buying it, family tradition.”

Fili/Kili/Ori, “Really?”

Kili, “So you must be really good at wood crafting then.”

“The second wife tried to put me in my place by making me work in the company from the ground up. I’ve worked on pretty much everything to do with construction and carving.”

Fili/Kili, “Impressive!”

“Went a bit against her plans, making me even more of an ally to my workers, hoping I’d have just given up.”

Fili, “I’ve never seen a dragon flee from a fight!”

Kili, “She should have known better!”

Ori glanced at his watch, “Oh, almost time for class.” You both cleaned up and you all went your separate ways.

Pt 4

[masteroftheseas]

On Tides...

Whaaat is this is Ossë-mun inspired to write an old-fashioned headcanon meta post again stay calm maybe it’s just a drill.

So a recent conversation reminded me of an on-again off-again headcanon I have had in regard to science and Ainur and Middle Earth. In our world, in reality, we know that the moon’s gravitational pulls is what control the tides of the sea. And when I very first made this blog, I allowed the idea of Tilion exerting a pull on the sea to be a thing, because fact, right?

But I feel like no.

It starts with the age-old favorite game of anyone who writes for Silmarillion characters called “Which Version of the Legendarium Am I Using Today?”. As an Ossë, I like me some Lost Tales shit, because that’s where this nerd actually shines. He gets cut down to like one or two sentences in the final version, which is sad, but he’s got whole chapters in the earlier drafts. So I’m referencing shit that might not be your version of the story, though much of my thoughts about the moon still line up with Silmarillion lore.

The moon is not originally a construct of the Ainur or Eru. It didn’t exist for a pretty long time, because initially it was in the lamps, which were then turned into trees when the Ainur settled on their pretty island, and they stayed trees for a decent chunk of time until Melkor had to go fuck shit up with his pet spider. So if the moon controls the tide, that would mean there was a period of Middle Earth where there wasn’t a tide. And that would imply that Ulmo and Yavanna (and Eru) created life forms that were destined to die immediately because there are many plants and animals that actually rely on tides to survive. Which I’m not really buying as a thing, because while Ainur can be shits, they tend to be mildly intelligent shits, and I think they’d know better than to destine that many creatures to a swift and certain demise.

Also, the reason the Moon affects the tide in our world isn’t magic or random, but actual gravitational pull of a fucking planet orbiting our own. Gravity and shit, yo.Tilion sailing through the stars with the moon =/= a planet. The moon is described sometimes as like, a crystal? And sometimes as a flower of Telperion. It is in neither version a fucking planet of its own right that has a strong gravitational pull. 

Further, initially Middle Earth wasn’t round. Which would fuck up the concept of tide and gravity because currently we have two a day due to both the Earth rotating and the moon orbiting. In a world where the ‘earth’ doesn’t rotate because it’s flat, that would mean... I don’t even know. One giant tide? Erbody on the West Coasts batten down those hatches Tilion’s coming and he gots him an Ocean on his heels??

And let’s not forget Tilion is a Maia of Oromë. Not a maia of the sea. So you’re telling me some hunter is now controlling the ocean whether actual sea-spirits like it or not? Hmmm.

So my personal opinion on the tides:

My idea in how tides do is the Ainur’s favorite explanation, it’s in the Song yo. I generally consider tides to be something of Ossë’s domain, as he is described as “master of the seas that wash the shores of Middle-earth”. Generally I write it as something within his Song, something that is intrinsically part of him without thought. Tides to Ossë are very much like breathing to people. You don’t consciously think about it, it does its own automatic thing, but you can control it manually if you desire.

I don’t consider Tilion or the moon to have any influence on the tides. High and low tides happen twelve hours apart from each other, but not always at the same time of day; the moon ‘being in positions’ in the sky would also follow certain time tables, and perhaps Elves or others assumed there was a correlation. But in my vision of Middle Earth, there isn’t.

[hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff]

WHEN I THINK ABOUT J. R. R. Tolkien’s unpublished writings, I think of them in terms that probably would please the old master: as the literary equivalent of the Staffordshire hoard in England’s West Midlands. Discovered in 2009 by a fortune hunter with a very good metal detector, the hoard contains mangled Anglo-Saxon weapons, golden jewelry, military implements, other metalwork, and rings inscribed with runic characters (though not the language of Mordor). All of it gives us — thanks to a team of devoted archaeologists — a richer understanding of the era of Anglo-Saxon Britain.

The same can be said of the “Tolkien hoard” — the reams of drafts, faded notes, indecipherable scribbles, and fragmented stories that were never published in Tolkien’s lifetime. But because of the tireless work of his son, Christopher, we have an even richer understanding today of Middle-earth than we did when his father died in 1973.

Ever since the publication of The Silmarillion in 1977, Tolkien fils has slowly worked through these materials and produced annotated versions of tales taking place long before the events chronicled in The Hobbit (1937) and Lord of the Rings (1954–’55). Now, with nearly 30 works added to his father’s oeuvre, Christopher Tolkien is finished. His service as his father’s literary guardian and interpreter ended last August with the publication of the earliest story of Middle-earth that Tolkien ever wrote, The Fall of Gondolin. “I ‘presumed’ […] that Beren and Lúthien would be my last,” he writes in the new book’s preface, referring to another story that he edited and published in 2017. “I must now say that ‘in my ninety-fourth year The Fall of Gondolin is (indubitably) the last.’”

What a long and distinguished run — and what a high note to end on. Christopher Tolkien’s edition of his father’s Gondolin manuscripts is nothing less than a triumph — a substantial contribution to our understanding of his father’s early vision of the Middle-earth cosmogony and a gift to all lovers of Tolkien, young and old. And Alan Lee’s accompanying illustrations — along with a foldout map — enrich this book even more, giving Tolkien’s First Age a vivid physical reality that Westeros and Narnia just don’t have.

Not everyone will agree, I’m sure; Philip Pullman certainly won’t. Last fall, Pullman published the essay collection Daemon Voices: On Stories and Storytelling, in which he doesn’t hesitate to dismiss Tolkien’s world-making. For him, Tolkien’s characterizations are shallow and the settings “no more real than the horse-brasses and the posthorns in an Olde English theme-pub — a place called The Hobbit and Firkin,” he writes in the essay “The Republic of Heaven.”

“C’mon now,” I’d like to tell him, “lighten up.” There’s room enough for everyone in fantasy, isn’t there? Pullman’s certainly free to dismiss whomever he likes, of course, but it seems beneath the dignity of Lyra Belacqua’s creator to sound so jealous of another’s success.

At the very least the publication of this book gives us a reason to applaud the son’s long commitment to his father’s work … and to readers (like this reviewer) who see Tolkien’s early vision of Middle-earth in the tale of Gondolin’s destruction.

¤

The human hero at the center of The Fall of Gondolin is Tuor — Elrond of Rivendell is descended from him — who searches for the hidden city of Gondolin, an elven stronghold that has escaped enslavement by the evil Melkor, also known as Morgoth, predecessor of Sauron.

In the original 1916 version of the story — which opens the book and runs to about 75 pages — Tuor is sent on his quest by the sea god Ulmo, one of the Valar. Ulmo wants Gondolin to raise its army against Melkor and his shadowy legions of Orcs, Balrogs, and other ghoulish creatures before they find and attack the city. But Tuor fails to persuade them to fight — they are confident (too confident) that Melkor will never find them — and he decides to join them in their idyllic seclusion instead. He gives up the goal of his quest and weds the king’s lovely daughter, Idril.

Whenever an author introduces a note of hubris, you know it’s a bad sign — and suffice to say that the smugness of the citizens of Gondolin is the key to their undoing (like Théoden’s flawed conviction, in 1954’s The Two Towers, that the Hornburg can resist any force).

But that isn’t the only version of the Gondolin story in this book. Many of the best Tolkien scholars, especially Tom Shippey and Verlyn Flieger, have reminded us that Tolkien’s vision of Middle-earth was constantly evolving. And as that vision evolved, Tolkien struggled to adapt and adjust his material to harmonize with these changes. His son provides us with other draft variations assembled in chronological order, with commentary. Over 35 years, Tolkien continued to change and expand the story before finally abandoning another version — to his son’s initial perplexity — in 1951 (a version of which appears in 1980’s Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth).

All of these drafts display a style that’s far from the conventional storytelling you find in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. The Gondolin drafts are steeped in grandiose, archaic expressions and the kind of reversed syntax that Yoda would probably like: “Here they abode very long indeed,” or “Timber he had that came down the hidden river; a goodly wood it was.” At first the style makes for tough reading, but soon it grows on you like moss on Treebeard’s chin.

To be fair, these drafts are First Age stories, and they’re supposed to sound like the foundational myths of Western civilization. Tolkien didn’t hide the fact that he believed his vision of Middle-earth’s ancient days deserved to be placed alongside the world’s great epics. Gondolin’s fall wasn’t just some quaint fairy tale that he scribbled as he recovered from trench fever during World War I. For him, its tragic fate ranked — outranked, actually — what happened to some of the greatest cities of antiquity:

Glory dwelt in that city of Gondolin of the Seven Names, and its ruin was the most dread of all the sacks of cities upon the face of Earth. Nor Bablon, nor Ninwi, nor the towers of Trui, nor all the many takings of Rûm that is greatest among Men, saw such terror as fell that day …

Even though the collapse of Troy and the sacking of Rome don’t measure up to the tale of Gondolin’s terrible destruction, Tolkien couldn’t finish it. Why not? Was his artistic vision just too big for his talents? Hardly. Even as late as 1951, long after he’d demonstrated his artistry with The Hobbit and had Lord of the Rings under his belt, Tolkien’s last attempt at the story takes us only as far as Tuor’s arrival at the Gate of the Noldor (a name for the craftsman elves). In this draft, he doesn’t fall in love with Idril or help the city-dwellers escape destruction. All Tuor gets is a glimpse of Gondolin’s gleaming armies before the narrative breaks off.

So what happened? For Tolkien’s son, in a chapter near the end of the book called “The Evolution of the Story,” what finally snuffed his father’s enthusiasm for his Gondolin narrative (and other uncompleted First Age works forming the core of The Silmarillion) was his pessimism over publishing them despite the success of The Hobbit. Tolkien wanted these stories published with Lord of the Rings as “one long Saga of the Jewels and the Rings,” but in the years right after World War II, that was an unrealistic expectation. Everything was in short supply, especially paper, and this would have been a ridiculously expensive undertaking for any publisher. Tolkien realized that. Disappointedly, he gave up, and his son describes his gloom in another work, Morgoth’s Ring (1993):

[L]ittle of all the work begun at that time was completed. The new Lay of Leithian, the new tale of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin, the Grey Annals (of Beleriand), the revision of the Quenta Silmarillion, were all abandoned. I have little doubt that despair of publication, at least in the form that he regarded as essential, was the prime cause.

“Despair of publication” — it is hard to believe that Tolkien ever worried about such things. But he did. He worried about publication, and he worried about making money, just like any writer. His doubts that Gondolin and the other heroic tales would ever be published in a form “he regarded as essential” were enough to discourage him.

Of course, that didn’t end his career. Far from it. Three years later, Lord of the Rings appeared in three volumes, followed by other stories, works of scholarship, and translations. Tolkien was fêted and celebrated as the modern-day equivalent of an Icelandic skald crossed with a medieval scholiast. Fans wouldn’t leave him alone; the counterculture movement (and Led Zeppelin) embraced his mythology as their own; awards and money flowed in — his old friend and colleague C. S. Lewis nominated him for a Nobel Prize. Life was good.

And yet. One can’t help seeing something in those photos of him tucking on his pipe — something wistful about the eyes — that suggests the master was still thinking, even then, at the peak of his success, about all those precious pieces of his legendarium that remained in fragments at home.

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Anything, even a fragment — as the Staffordshire archaeologists know well — can be valuable. They can tell us a great deal, despite what’s missing. That is certainly true of the Gondolin fragments. They provide us with an opportunity to glimpse some of the first great figures and dramatic situations of Tolkien’s mythology — figures and situations that would later resurface, more fully integrated and realized, in the pages of Lord of the Rings.

Already in 1916 we have the golden-armored elf Glorfindel — second only to Elrond in Rivendell — long before his crucial appearance late in The Fellowship of the Ring (1954), when he stops the Black Riders from nabbing Frodo. Glorfindel plays a similar role in the 1916 fragment as the Gondolin citizens flee the burning city. But instead of the Nazgûl, he faces a terrifying Balrog — its whips blazing and crackling — that bars the people’s escape. As Glorfindel leaps to the rescue, Tolkien writes,

[his] left hand sought a dirk, and this he thrust up that it pierced the Balrog’s belly nigh his own face (for that demon was double his stature); and it shrieked, and fell backward from the rock, and falling clutched Glorfindel’s yellow locks beneath his cap, and those twain fell into the abyss.

Their deadly combat should be familiar to any student of Tolkien. In Fellowship, Gandalf replaces Glorfindel in a fight with the horrific Balrog known as Durin’s Bane in the Mines of Moria. They take a similar plunge into the abyss, too … but with a much better result for Gandalf.

The Gondolin drafts anticipate and echo the famous stories of Middle-earth’s Third Age in other ways as well. We encounter Elrond’s father, Eärendil, as well as Círdan the Shipwright, who is the master of the Grey Havens. We meet the elf Legolas Greenleaf — who, despite his name, is not the warrior of Lord of the Rings. This Legolas isn’t gifted with a bow, but he is “night-sighted,” which enables him to lead the Gondolin citizens through pitch darkness to safety. These drafts also contain plenty of wolves, Orcs, eagles, and dragons — and Melkor’s evil influence hovers over the landscape with the same shapeless menace as Sauron’s.

What also hovers over these drafts — particularly the 1916 version — is Tolkien’s brief experience of World War I. Some critics have been reluctant to draw too close a connection between Gondolin’s destruction and Tolkien’s experience of the Battle of the Somme, but it seems equally bizarre to ignore it. That battle was fresh in Tolkien’s mind when he was invalided back to England — ironically, to Staffordshire, where that Anglo-Saxon booty would stay hidden for nearly another 100 years — and started writing about Gondolin as he recovered.

In the draft that opens this book, as Melkor’s forces drive toward Gondolin’s walls, they employ strange, armored machines — “things of iron that could coil themselves around and above all obstacles before them.” At the mention of those coils, one can’t help imagining the caterpillar treads of a tank (the first ones ever used in warfare appeared on the Western Front) that Tolkien might have seen while he was there:

[T]heir hollow bellies clanged beneath the buffeting, yet it availed not for they might not be broken, and the fires rolled off them. Then were the topmost opened about their middles, and an innumerable host of the Orcs, the goblins of hatred, poured therefrom into the breach.

The 1916 fragment alone is worth the price of this book. It is thrilling to consider — even if some would object — that in this apocalyptic scene we have a veiled reference to the horrors Tolkien might have witnessed on the Western Front.

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Late in his life, when Tolkien looked back on his first yearnings to create a fresh mythology for England, he said that he had had in mind 

a body of more or less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level of romantic fairy-story […] I would draw some of the great tales in fullness, and leave many only placed in the scheme, and sketched. The cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama. Absurd.

But it really wasn’t absurd, even if Tolkien pretended to be embarrassed by his own grandiose vision. In the end, though he died far sooner than he expected, Tolkien had achieved this goal. Gondolin and the other pieces remained unfinished, but that is okay: their state of incompletion fits with his vision of the legendarium. Some tales are complete, others aren’t, and “other minds and hands” are welcome to step forward and contribute, too.

Tolkien’s son certainly seems to be the best example of one of these. The same can be said of Alan Lee … and John Howe. Howe’s A Middle-earth Traveler: Sketches from Bag End to Mordor gives us not only the massive vistas of Tolkien’s world (the majestic view from atop Minas Tirith or Ilúvatar’s creation of the universe) but also a great deal of minutiae — what you’ll find in a hobbit’s kitchen, the variety of axes and war hammers used by dwarves, the styles of armor worn by Orcs, the mess and disorder of Radagast’s leaning study, and the details carved into the logs of the skin-changer Beorn’s home.

A conceptual artist (alongside Lee) on Peter Jackson’s Tolkien films, Howe gives us in his book a rich and exhaustive — though not exhausting — taxonomy of goblin faces, twisting forests and passageways, fortresses, castles, and caves inhabited by the human and nonhuman citizens of Tolkien’s work and Jackson’s franchise. His tome is a lovely addition to anyone’s expanding collection of Tolkienana and an ideal shelf companion for the book — brought out a few years ago by the same publisher — of Tolkien’s own drawings of the world of The Hobbit.

In his introduction, Howe says that, as he began to create his own versions of Tolkien’s world, he realized that a “sense of reality, of personal experience, pervades much of Middle-earth.” That sense is so strong, in fact, that “we are tempted to seek out a real place for every locality he describes,” whether it’s the Shire’s resemblance to the English countryside or Tolkien’s 1911 walking tour of Switzerland that inspired Esgaroth, the wooden Lake-town destroyed by Smaug.

But the same can be said of Howe’s drawings, too — many of these were inspired by New Zealand localities as he worked on Jackson’s films. “So many of the fantastical landscapes we painted to replace the green screens were almost directly taken from real landscapes we wandered through,” he writes. Howe likens himself and the films’ other artists to “hobbits with sketchbooks, drawing the world as they went. There. Back again. And the journey between, which is of course the best part.”

He’s right; often the journey is the best part, in writing and in many other parts of life, too. Christopher Tolkien would probably agree. His own journey with his father’s work has lasted more than four decades and has given us so much that is essential to the legendarium.

And now, with that journey done, the only thing left to say to him is also the simplest: thank you.

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Nick Owchar is a PhD candidate in English at Claremont Graduate University and the founder of Impressive Content, an editing and content production service. He was formerly the deputy book review editor of the Los Angeles Times.

The post The Final Treasure from the Tolkien Hoard appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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11 Of Our Favorite Best Selling June Books

  Wrap up a great month of newly released literature with these eleven great reads hand selected by BIGWORDS, found cheaper on BIGWORDS.

1. Beren and Luthien

Essential to the story, and never changed, is the fate that shadowed the love of Beren and Lúthien: for Beren was a mortal man, but Lúthien was an immortal elf. Her father, a great elvish lord, in deep opposition to Beren, imposed on him an impossible task that he must perform before he might wed Lúthien. This is the kernel of the legend; and it leads to the supremely heroic attempt of Beren and Lúthien together to rob the greatest of all evil beings, Melkor, called Morgoth, the Black Enemy, of a Silmaril.

    2. The Handmaid’s Tale

  The Handmaid’s Tale is a 1985 dystopian novel by Canadian author Margaret Atwood. Set in a near-future New England, in a totalitarian theocracy that has overthrown the United States government, the novel explores themes of women in subjugation and the various means by which they gain individualism and independence.

    3. The Silent Corner

    These are the chilling words left behind by a man who had everything to live for—but took his own life. In the aftermath, his widow, Jane Hawk, does what all her grief, fear, and fury demand: find the truth, no matter what.

    4. Hunger

  From the bestselling author of Bad Feminist: a searingly honest memoir of food, weight, self-image, and learning how to feed your hunger while taking care of yourself.

  5. Our Dark Hour

    Kate will have to return to Verity. August will have to let her back in. And a new monster is waiting—one that feeds on chaos and brings out its victims’ inner demons. Which will be harder to conquer: the monsters they face, or the monsters within?

  6. Uncomfortably Happily

    When the gentler pace and stillness of the countryside replace the roar of the city, but your editor keeps calling

With gorgeously detailed yet minimal art, cartoonist Yeon-Sik Hong explores his move with his wife to a small house atop a rural mountain, replacing the high-rent hubbub of Seoul with the quiet murmur of the country. With their dog, cats, and chickens by their side, the simple life and isolation they so desperately craved proves to present new anxieties. Hong paints a beautiful portrait of the Korean countryside, changing seasons, and the universal relationships humans have with each other as well as nature, both of which are sometimes frustrating but always rewarding.

Uncomfortably Happily is translated by American cartoonist Hellen Jo from the acclaimed Manhwa Today award-winning Korean edition. – Amazon

  7. The Answers: A Novel

    Recommended reading by The New York Times, Vanity Fair, Huffington Post, W, Nylon, Elle Buzzfeed and Kirkus

Written by one of Granta’s Best Young American Novelists, Catherine Lacey’s The Answers is a “novel of intellect and amplitude that deepens as it moves forward” (The New York Times) about a woman learning to negotiate her ailment via the simulacrum of a perfect romantic relationship.

    8. Dear Cyborgs

  “Eugene Lim’s Dear Cyborgs is a mad badass fan letter to comicdom and a chastening reminder of how America’s greatest fantasy doesn’t involve superheroes with superpowers but the prospect of a fair and honest political life. Go read it in the streets.” ―Joshua Cohen, author of Book of Numbers

    9. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness

    The Ministry of Utmost Happiness takes us on an intimate journey of many years across the Indian subcontinent—from the cramped neighborhoods of Old Delhi and the roads of the new city to the mountains and valleys of Kashmir and beyond, where war is peace and peace is war. It is an aching love story… – Amazon

  10. Magpie Murders

    From the New York Times bestselling author of Moriarty and Trigger Mortis, this fiendishly brilliant, riveting thriller weaves a classic whodunit worthy of Agatha Christie into a chilling, ingeniously original modern-day mystery.

When editor Susan Ryeland is given the manuscript of Alan Conway’s latest novel, she has no reason to think it will be much different from any of his others. After working with the bestselling crime writer for years, she’s intimately familiar with his detective, Atticus Pünd, who solves mysteries disturbing sleepy English villages. An homage to queens of classic British crime such as Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers, Alan’s traditional formula has proved hugely successful. So successful that Susan must continue to put up with his troubling behavior if she wants to keep her job.

Conway’s latest tale has Atticus Pünd investigating a murder at Pye Hall, a local manor house. Yes, there are dead bodies and a host of intriguing suspects, but the more Susan reads, the more she’s convinced that there is another story hidden in the pages of the manuscript: one of real-life jealousy, greed, ruthless ambition, and murder.

Masterful, clever, and relentlessly suspenseful, Magpie Murders is a deviously dark take on vintage English crime fiction in which the reader becomes the detective. – Amazon

    11. The Gypsy Moth Summer

    ONE OF THE MOST ANTICIPATED BOOKS OF 2017 The Huffington Post: 2017 Book Preview: 33 Titles To Add To Your Shelf The Week: 28 books to read in 2017 The Millions: The Great 2017 Book Preview Nylon Magazine: 50 Books We Can’t Wait To Read In 2017 Read It Forward: 17 Books We’re Excited to Read in 2017

“Fierro doesn’t just observe, she knows. Like all great novelists, she gives us the world.” – Amy Bloom, bestselling author of Away and Lucky Us

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