#sometimes i think about how many people elrond has lost. and i lose my mind a little

[mamawasatesttube]

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

kon, of course, but everyone here knows that so maybe he doesn't quite count sfgkdh

let's go with kaladin stormblessed from the stormlight archive, mipha legendofzelda, and elrond peredhel! with an honorable mention to ash lynx bananafish and alphonse elric fullmetalalchemist.

i am simply a sucker for the battle healer archetype/characters who know how to kill you a hundred different ways, but would really rather not. characters who have faced the endless horrors but still choose to be kind and gentle and good where they can, or who fight the darkness not out of rage or pride but out of a desire to protect. characters who know what suffering is and want to make sure others don't have to. you know. the light at the end of the tunnel and choosing kindness and healing even though it would be so easy for them to cause harm instead. being the shield before the sword. all that.

alphabet ask game!

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[sweetteaanddragons]

Because I Walked Away from Death

Happy Halloween everyone!

Sadly, this isn’t particularly spooky, though it does start out very depressing. Maedhros is not a happy camper. Please keep that in mind.

He means to die. He steps to the very edge of the crack, looks into the magma below, and means to jump. It cannot possibly hurt worse than the Silmaril burning through his hand.

But Maglor sees him, and Maglor runs forward, and Maglor shoves him to safety - 

And then Maglor - Maglor - 

It is not, it turns out, a very stable piece of land, that edge.

Maedhros springs forward with a cry, but his last living brother slips through his fingers, and the last he hears of his brother’s beautiful voice is a scream as bad as any in Angband.

Maedhros stares down at the magma and there is no reason in the world not to join him. 

No reason save that Maglor has just - just - 

Maglor is gone because he didn’t want Maedhros to do that. All of his other brothers have died for nothing. He cannot let Maglor do the same.

That’s what he reasons out later.

The moment it happens he just stands there and can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t - 

Can’t.

He wanders. He doesn’t care where he goes. It doesn’t matter.

He puts the Silmaril in a pouch at his waist. 

In his dreams, it still burns.

He hears scraps of news sometimes. Tyelpe still lives and is building a city. Elros is mortal and sailing to build a new kingdom. Elrond is serving under Gil-Galad.

There is other news too, but it falls out of his head like water through a sieve, like hope from the Noldor, like Maglor from his outstretched hand.

It’s hard to survive on his own with just one badly scarred hand.

When the Silmaril falls from its pouch and he reaches out unthinkingly to catch it, hard becomes impossible. The fresh burn on top of the scar makes nearly everything unmanageable. 

In a hand curled like a claw, he manages to scoop the Silmaril back into its pouch. He doesn’t bother looking for water to soak his hand in. 

He just turns his face to Tyelpe’s city. Possibly he will be cut down at the gates, but it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is getting the Silmaril somewhere safe. He cannot just hold onto it until some poor traveler pries it from his corpse and accidentally starts another war. Tyelpe will know what to do with it.

And then Maedhros can go back to the wilderness and walk until he cannot walk anymore, and it will not be his fault when he falls.

Or at least no more his fault than everything is.

He has a dozen stories planned to get through the gates. He doesn’t end up using any of them because absolutely no one tries to stop him from strolling right in.

Maedhros frowns and thinks that perhaps before he goes he should talk to Tyelpe about his security.

He is not sure where to find his nephew, and he doesn’t dare draw attention to himself by asking, so he just heads toward the forges and hopes for the best.

It works. He hears a familiar voice ranting passionately inside the largest one, and he slips inside. Tyelpe is there, project momentarily set aside to debate some point with his companion.

“Tyelpe,” Maedhros calls, and his voice breaks. “Celebrimbor,” he corrects because that’s what his nephew prefers now, isn’t it?

Celebrimbor turns, eyes going wide. His companion turns too, and Maedhros stumbles back when he sees those eyes.

“Gorthaur,” he chokes out in horror. A thousand remembered pains return.

Celebrimbor tenses, but the monster just frowns in concern. “I am called Annatar, my friend. Are you quite well?”

“Do not try your tricks on me,” Maedhros spits. “I learned to see through them all by the end.”

“By the - Then you were a thrall! I assure you, you are safe here. Perhaps a healer - “ He stops when Celebrimbor draws back towards Maedhros. “Surely you are not taking these ravings seriously!”

Celebrimbor says nothing, just looks grimly between them, and Maedhros - 

Maedhros is desperate and has nothing left to lose save his nephew, so he puts his ruined hand into the pouch and draws forth the Silmaril with its condemning light.

It does not burn.

In the amazement over that, he almost misses Sauron’s flinch.

Celebrimbor does not, and Sauron knows it. He immediately changes tactics.

“I did warn you that not all in my past was to the good,” he says mournfully. “I have changed, Celebrimbor. I desire a new start. Surely you of all people can understand that?”

Celebrimbor hesitates.

Sauron presses. “Think of all the good we could still do together, the things we could build, the power we could share - “

Celebrimbor’s face shuts down instantly. “As my grandfather once said: Get thee gone from my gate, thou jail-crow of Mandos.”

Sauron’s face becomes terrible in its wrath. “And how will you make me, least and weakest of a failed line?” he hisses. “Your mightiest elders could not vanquish me, and you think you will? With what? The sword you leave carelessly in your room? The Silmaril you know not how to wield? The aid of an uncle who can no longer even grasp a weapon?”

He’s not entirely wrong. Maedhros does the only thing he can think of.

He is already far beyond his father’s forgiveness in any case for letting his brothers die, and the Oath is given up for lost.

He throws the Silmaril directly at Sauron’s face.

Only Feanor and the Valar may know how to properly wield its magic, but its burning properties are straightforward enough.

Sauron screams.

And Celebrimbor reaches into his pocket, and when he pulls his hand out, he’s wearing three blindingly bright rings. He clenches his hand into a fist and repeats, “Get. Thee. Gone.”

The wave of power is so immense that Maedhros stumbles back. 

Sauron howls in wounded fury and vanishes.

“He’ll be back,” Maedhros says wearily and plods his way towards the Silmaril. He probably ought to scoop it up again. He’s not sure if the non-burning trend will continue when he’s not in direct opposition to the greatest evil remaining in this world.

“Of course he will be,” Celebrimbor says and sits down rather hard on the nearest available surface in order to better laugh rather hysterically. “Sauron. In my city.”

“You dismissed him well,” Maedhros offers. “Though I don’t think he was technically ever a prisoner of Mandos.”

“Yes. Well. You try thinking of something nicely witty in the moment. I don’t know how Grandfather did it.”

Maedhros squints at the rings still on Celebrimbor’s hand. Their glow is dimming now. “Speaking of Father,” he says cautiously, “I thought you were foreswearing our mistakes, not reliving them.”

Celebrimbor looks down at them ruefully. “I’m not a complete fool,” he says. “I knew something was off. These were just . . . a backup plan of sorts. Although I don’t think I’d admitted that even to myself.”

“Right,” Maedhros says, still more tired than anything. And who is he to lecture Celebrimbor? “While we’re on the topic of our family’s mistakes, I want you to have that one.” He nods to the Silmaril still on the floor. “It’s why I came, actually.”

“And I’m very glad you did,” Celebrimbor says. Maedhros tries not to dwell on the undeserved warmth the words summon. “But are your sure? The Oath won’t . . . “

“Won’t matter in a few months,” Maedhros says dismissively. “I can hold it for that long even if the Oath doesn’t recognize you as a legitimate holder of it.”

Celebrimbor freezes.

Maedhros holds up his ruined hand. “He was wrong about many things,” he says, “but not when he said I couldn’t hold a sword.”

Celebrimbor is by his side in an instant. “You need to see a healer for this. Elrond is coming for a visit soon, I’m sure he can help, and until then there are many talented healers in the city - “

“I did not come to impose upon your hospitality,” Maedhros interrupts. 

Celebrimbor glares at him. “No, you came so you could die in peace. Surely you don’t still mean to do that after what we’ve just discovered.”

He ought to stay, Maedhros realizes. Celebrimbor never fought on the front lines of the war. Maedhros could help.

“I’m very tired,” he says quietly.

“Please, uncle,” Tyelpe begs.

Maedhros’s shoulders slump in defeat. “We keep my identity quiet for as long as we can.”

“If you like,” his nephew agrees instantly. “Although some of your old followers would be very glad to see you.”

Maedhros ignores this. “If my being here starts to cause trouble, I leave immediately.”

Celebrimbor begins to steer him towards the door, probably with the intention of getting him to a healer. “I’m sure we can resolve it peacefully.”

“And we are not bothering Elrond with my hand.”

“Whatever you say, Uncle Maedhros. Whatever you say.”

Maedhros doesn’t trust that tone, but he’s tired.

If this is the outcome, perhaps for just a moment it will be alright not to fight.

[enter-fandom]

The Long Road (Part 2)

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Thorin x Reader Rating: General Warnings: General, Canon Compliant Violence Theme: Radioactive - Pentatonix & Lindsey Stirling cover Request: N/A Words: 1841 Status: Part 2 (read part 1 HERE) Notes: I wanted to have a little fun with Rivendell. The outfit featured here is modeled after one of my favorites from Faire. Mostly just a breather, some minor foreshadowing, revealing a secret, and some music. Hope you enjoy!

Lord Elrond was exceedingly generous. Despite the way hunger clawed at your stomach,  you wished to take advantage of the brief reprieve,  and while the Dwarves were led straight to dinner,  you requested the opportunity to freshen up,  and the aid of one of his people.  Digging through your pack,  you removed your spare clothes,  carefully packing away your armor before dressing as swiftly as possible.  The black skirt was nearly too long for you,  brushing your ankles even as it sat just below your breasts, which were covered by a red linen peasant top.  You pressed your corset close as the Elven maiden entered,  smiling and moving to tighten the laces at your back.  

Your belt and blade were at your waist again once she finished to your satisfaction,  and you gave her a small bow of thanks,  before following her to dinner,  your pack over your shoulder once more.  

Eyes were upon you quickly once you rejoined the group,  and you smiled, chuckling softly.  “Quite an unexpected change,” Gandalf mused, nodding as you fell into step with him, Elrond at his other side.  

“I doubt there will be much opportunity on our journey to wear such things.  I'll be back in my armor before we leave.” You absently reached to toy with the stone pendant at your chest,  revealed with the change in attire as you hesitated,  uncertain of where to sit before Gandalf beckoned you to join him with Elrond and Thorin.  

The Dwarf's eyes remained upon you as you sat,  leaning in just a little,  “What is that?”

You turned the stone,  the engraving resting against your skin when you removed your hand,  revealing only the flat back side,  smooth deep grey on black string,  “It's nothing.  Just a trinket.” His brow was not the only one that rose,  and you gently draped your napkin in your lap,  reaching for your fork as dinner began. Laughter at your back had you glancing over,  catching sight of Kili being teased, and you smiled into your salad, attention moving back to the conversation at your own table.  

Orcrist and Glamdring were named,  and you smiled,  shocked as Elrond asked,  “Might I see your blade?”

“It isn't Elvish make, or from the hoard,” you managed,  but he reached out,  and you obliged,  allowing him to turn the blade over slowly in his hands.

“It is a fine blade,  a gift,  if I'm not mistaken.”

“Yes, from my stepfather.  He passed two years ago.”

“A fine gift indeed.” You smiled, returning the blade to its home, as Elrond returned to his talk with Gandalf and Thorin, watching with a soft sigh as the Dwarf left your table in a huff. Any moment now, things would fall into disarray. The Dwarves would prove a rowdy, if enjoyable bunch,  and as if aware of your thoughts,  Bofur rose,  singing,  your own foot tapping to the rhythm beneath the table. The Elven music was nice, but even you had to admit it was a little dry in comparison to the Dwarven tune, and you laughed, ducking when the food fight started. Nearly hit with a roll, you reached for your own, taking aim and knocking Kili square in the head, a light in your eyes as you stood. If they kept at it, you’d be changing before you were ready. Behind you, you could hear Gandalf and Elrond’s low voices, a brief mention of the strange company, yourself included. When Gandalf mentioned that you were an unexpected addition, you glanced back, hit with another roll as you did, “Unexpected is an understatement.” There was a knowing look from Elrond, and you could only smile. He was wise, and there was no hiding from him that this was not your home, that you were from another world. He didn’t say anything, however, as you all but hopped down from the dias, joining the Company on the lower level as they began to disperse, glancing between Dwalin and Fili, “Would either of you care to spar?” Dwalin shot you an incredulous glance, “Not dressed like that, lass.” “Yes, dressed like this,” you countered, shaking your head some. You were just as capable like this, though you really did need the practice. True battle would be different than the reenactments you participated in back home, even if the technique was the same. Fili shrugged beside you, and you followed along to a clear area, drawing your blade and taking a ready stance. “Do you even know how to use that?” “Of course, though most of my fighting has been for fun, and show.” It was the closest to the truth you could easily manage, and a brow rose, Dwaling gesturing for Fili to take the first round. You should have known you’d lose, but you put up a decent fight. It didn’t help that Dwalin began questioning you the minute everything started, “What do you mean, fun and show?” “Like a tournament, only we’re not actually aiming to hurt one another. We have these Faires. I worked at one.” Which just led to more questions, until you were kneeling, panting on the stonework, propped gently on your blade, “I yield.” At this point, despite your loss, Dwalin was smiling, moving over to reach a hand to pull you up, “You fight well.” Glancing down at your attire, you nodded, “I think it’s time to change back, though, if you’ll excuse me.” Later, when you returned to the group in your armor, you truly wished you could charge your phone. It was sitting, turned off for the moment, to preserve what you could of the battery for as long as possible. The lack of wifi at least allowed you to save some, by turning on airplane mode, but it would still not be long before it was fully dead, and your past lost to you in such a concrete way. Still, as you joined them around the fire, you found yourself reaching for it, powering it on as they sat and talked, sometimes breaking into song before Bofur glanced your way, “What’s music like where you’re from, Y/N?” You hesitated, shaking your head some, “That’s a broad question. There’s so many types, and centuries of songs. We have music much like the Elves, and some like your own, and some that are harder, darker, faster.” You thought through the genres, before gesturing with your phone, “I have some here, if you’d like to hear it.” The company nodded, a little confused by the prospect, but intrigued nonetheless. Pulling up some of your downloaded music, you scrolled, before smiling. “Okay, so what I’m about to play is a collaborative effort. There’s this amazing violinist, and an acapella group who decided to work together to cover a popular song, and I think you’ll like it.” You didn’t wait, pressing play and the Pentatonix Lindsey Stirling cover of Radioactive started playing, your eyes on them as they took the music in. It didn’t take long before you were singing along softly, “I’m breaking in, shaping up, and checking out on the prison bus. This is it - the apocalypse…” In some ways, it almost felt that way. Middle Earth was like something from the history of your own Earth, something from the past, and you were an anachronism. Out of time and place, waking up to a new age. The song lapsed automatically to the next, but you paused it. While you liked the next song, you wanted to give them something else, something a little more out of their comfort zone. You scrolled a little more, and the next song you played was a little more apt than perhaps you intended, Through the Fire and Flames screeching through the speakers, startling Ori beside you. Dwalin listened with rapt attention, his eyes darting to you as they narrowed. “And what is this?” “Dragonforce. Through the Fire and Flames.”

He huffed, “I like it.” Of course he did. You went through a few more songs, some more mellow and melodic, some a little more forceful, avoiding the recordings you had related to Middle Earth. When your phone battery lowered more than you could really bear, you turned it off, Bofur studying you curiously, but didn’t speak, watching as Balin and Thorin stood, the map tucked slowly into Thorin’s coat. You rose as well, hesitating before you asked, “Do you mind if I join you?” Thorin frowned, but Balin stayed him with a gentle hand, “It might be important that she do so.” With a curt nod from Thorin, you fell into step with Bilbo behind him, reaching to press the pendant to your chest tighter beneath your leathers, aware of what was to come and wondering just what a difference your presence would make.

The cavern was breathtaking, the midsummer moon illuminating it as you moved into place, watching Thorin grudgingly hand it off to Elrond. As the runes were illuminated, you mouthed along with Elrond, getting curious looks from the assembly. If they had bothered to ask about it, you wouldn’t have had a convincing lie, but they didn’t, at least not there, things progressing much as they had initially.  

It was Balin, of all people, who questioned you, once you were removed from the situation and on your way back to the others, falling into step with you and slowing until you lingered alone, “You could read the runes?” “No, not really, but...I did know what the map said.” His brow rose, and you sighed, “Where I’m from, this quest is a story. A children’s story at that. I’ve been aware of the tale since my childhood. I know the path, the dangers, and things like what was written on the map. I don’t wish to reveal too much, to jeopardize the quest itself, but I will reveal things that come up that could potentially be changed, things that need to be changed.” You were still uncertain of the Goblin Caves. Bilbo finding the ring was important, almost tantamount to the quest itself, but Thorin’s death? Those of Fili and Kili? Those would be changed if you had any say.

He studied you for a moment, and you reached into your pack, still at your back, and pulled out a well worn paperback, the title The Hobbit clear on the cover as you flipped through the pages, pointing to a portion of a page, “There, see. The map being read. The reveal of the hidden door.” “Keep that book close, lass,” he instructed, and you nodded, tucking it away once more, having already intended to do so. He gestured for you to continue walking, and you both quickly rejoined the group, nerves settling in your stomach. Maybe that’s why you were here. To save Thorin and his sister-sons. Maybe the Valar knew and were not ready for them to cross to the Halls of Waiting. While you were no Dwarf, nor Hobbit, you said a pair of silent prayers to both Mahal and Yavanna to watch over their children. They were going to need it.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Stronger Than You Know (part 1)

Synopsis: For two years the Elvenking has been able to live in bliss after centuries of sorrow with his now-wife Y/N- a strongwilled human woman who is regarded as one of the most stubborn people anyone has ever met. But when darkness invades her heart to what measures will the people that love her go to, just to see the bright girl brought back to light once more?

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Genre: this is so full of fluff you’ll get cavities

Warnings: some sexy time implications

Word count: 4627

Part 2

Part 3- END

Thranduil couldn’t help himself as his slender fingers traced the outline of his wife's soft facial features. The sleek arch of her eyebrow, smoothly gliding over to her still closed eyelids that hid mesmerising Y/E/C pools. Over her nose lingering on the tip of it, right down to her cupid's bow as his thumb softly ghosted over the lips he got lost in every night, morning and throughout the day. He grazed her jawline and cheekbone before his fingers lightly touched her round ear, so different from his pointy elven one.    Yes, the Woodland King himself had fallen for a human. A woman bestowed with immortality, but a human nonetheless.    When they had first met she was accompanying Bard to a council meeting. Thranduil didn’t even notice her upon their greeting, not until a quarrel had started while discussing some strategy for another upcoming war.    “How dare you treat me with such disrespect, firen?” he hissed the words to the girl. But to his surprise, she was not intimidated by the elf at all.    “My respect needs to be earned and you haven’t done so. Show some to me and I shall grant some in return.”    “Y/N,” Bard had gently grabbed her hand underneath the table, to try and tame the fire that threatened to spew over the lips of the woman.    Thranduil’s eyes had widened at the statement. He couldn’t believe she would talk back to him like that. A mere mortal would disgrace him! But in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind, something that had been slumbering for a long time had awoken and an incredible need to find out more about the fearless girl emerged.

   That night they were holding a feast and of course, he expected who he know had learned was Y/N to attend. What he had not anticipated was the breath catching in his throat as she had descended the stairs. A dress made from the finest silks and fabrics clung to her every curve. Her gait and posture was almost ethereal as if hovering inches above the floor rather than walking upon it. If he hadn’t seen her non-pointed ears or had no inclination that she was a human, the girl could easily pass for an elleth.    Her face was split in a smile that stretched from her one human ear to the other as her Y/E/C eyes roamed over the mass of people- elven, dwarf and human alike- and they glinted as her gaze caught where her friends stood around, bellowing laughter coming from the small circle. Her laughter echoed in response, through the ginormous chamber and even though it was filled to the brim with guests, to Thranduil it felt like the first time life had once again sprung in his kingdom.    He watched her rush to her friends and throw her body onto Bard’s back.    “Of course, she would be courted by him,” the King thought to himself as he made his way through the crowd. That weird feeling once again arose, this time accompanied by something bitter and unpleasant.    Y/N bellowed another laugh and the King’s heart clenched with a longing he didn’t know could still overcome his body. It wasn’t jealousy of the happiness between Bard and the feisty girl, though it didn’t help in any shape or form. He had accepted the passing of his late Queen many centuries ago, even though the wound sometimes still bled, especially when he looked upon his son Legolas, the only thing she had left behind for him. No. This was his want to make the girl laugh like that, to grant her happiness with every step she took and make her worries disappear with every breath that went into her lungs.    How could a human capture his heart like that in a time that spanned less than a full day?    She was holding onto Bard’s shoulder, jumping up and down as they moved towards the large dining table where Thranduil himself had already sat down at the end of it. The crown of branches and berries atop his silver hair, the blue eyes turned into a steely gaze as he roamed over the girl’s body.    “Oh, shut it, Bard!” she exclaimed in joy and the man had a matching smile plastered on his face. “You know I’m the best archer there is. Just because you’re technically older doesn’t mean you can do better than I.”    “You have seen her shoot, Bard,” a dwarf that Thranduil’s memory recalled was named Kili, piped up. “And there is no one better than her with a sword."    A smug grin appeared on the woman’s face. “Thank you, Kili. At least someone can admit the truth.”    “All right,” the large man turned towards the girl. “You and me, tomorrow, when the sun dawns. One who hits the most targets wins.”    “And what is the prize?” the smugness was still all over her face and Thranduil couldn’t help himself but smile at the overconfident girl.    “The title of the best archer, of course.”    “Pff!” she rolled her eyes, taking a seat right next to Bard’s left, two seats away from the King. She was so close, Thranduil could smell the scent of lavender and rosemary- no doubt the oils that had been added to her bath. “That I can claim right here right now. I need something tangible.”    “Fine. When we get back to Dale I will take over cleaning your weapons for a week.”    “Make it a month and we have a deal,” she extended an arm towards the man.    “Prepare to lose,” his large palm clasped hers.    “Darling, I’ve already won.”    The feast had begun moments later, loud chatter quieting down as polite conversation eased throughout the room. The elven King couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl for long. She talked to everyone and anyone, but at the same time, when unpleasant comments about her or any of her companions grazed her ears… If looks could kill Thranduil suspected that the room would be on fire.    Not long after, the slow and calm strings of the violins picked up their pace and people made their way onto the dance floor. She, of course, Bard’s hand in grasp went to the centre of the room and danced the night away.    The King didn’t take off his gaze as the girl moved across the room, switching partners from humans to dwarves and to elves, a smile of pure content and happiness almost permanently carved onto the beautiful features.    But then like a flash of lightning she was gone. Thranduil roamed his eyes over the crowded room, but her figure that had moved like a petal caught in the wind was nowhere to be seen. His heart sunk at the thought that she had retired with Bard, because even the simple presence of the girl elated his mood, but then his ice-blue eyes caught Bard himself dancing with an elleth.    A gust of wind from an open balcony caught Thranduil’s attention, the almost see-through white curtains flapping in the gentle breeze and right there, away from the looks of everyone, her emerald green dress shone.    “Excuse me,” he murmured to Lord Elrond and his son who had fallen in a conversation. His feet moved without a sound and the only indication that there was someone approaching Y/N was his kaftan’s shuffling over the stone floor.    “Beautiful isn’t it,” he came to rest his elbows next to Y/N who was leaning on the intricately designed railing.    “Probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” it came out more like a sigh as her Y/E/C orbs soaked in the view that was his kingdom.    “I wanted to apologise for my words earlier,” it didn’t come easy for Thranduil to say that.    “Is the Thranduil, the mighty elven King, the fearless warrior apologising? To me? A human?” a smirk made its way onto her lips. Oh, how he wanted to wipe it away by pressing his own mouth to hers, but the elf restrained himself.    “Do not make me regret this decision,” he warned, but Y/N could hear the playful undertone and saw how he tried to hide a smile.    She chuckled and reverted her gaze back towards the night sky and the city below. “Like I said- my respect needs to be earned,” she smiled at the King and the beauty of it took his breath away, “and now you’re getting there.”    “Well, I’m pleased to hear I am in your good graces, Lady Y/N.”    “Good? Not really. More so acceptable.”    He snorted at that. He actually snorted, surprising himself with how at ease he felt around the girl.    “And I’m not a Lady. Never have, never will be.”    “Surely being Bard’s companion bestows the title upon you. He is the King of Dale, which means the Queen should be regarded no less than that.”    The wide-eyed girl looked at Thranduil as if he suddenly had sprouted an elk head before bursting into a fit of laughter. She fell to the floor, clutching her stomach as her body trembled and shook with the force, tears streaming down her cheeks.    “Oh- Gods,” she hiccuped trying to form a coherent sentence. “You,” hiccup, “think that I and B-Bard,” hiccup, “are together?”    Another fit of laughter overtook her body and she wiped away the tears. “Oh, this is the most amusing," hiccup, "thing I’ve heard in a while. Oh my, will Bard’s mood elate after I tell him this.”    Thranduil was utterly confused while looking at the woman. Her face was flushed red from laughing so hard and it looked like she was having trouble heaving herself up, hands clutching to the railing.    “We are nothing more than friends. I could call him a best friend, he’s been there for me every step of the way, he’s almost my family, but together, ohhh,” she wiped away a stray tear, and tried to compose herself. “Besides, he has his eyes set on another and she has my approval.”    “But,” the King was stammering for words. Never in his life had he been at a loss of them. “You act so familiarly with him, you act as if you two are man and wife.”    “We’re friends. Very good ones at that. With us, humans,” she gently nudged the king’s elbow, emphasising the last word, “it’s different. A touch, a hug, a kiss- all of it can have different meanings.”    “I know that,” he snapped exasperated, but at the same time a feeling of hope resurfaced.     “Do you?” there it was again. That teasing smile that he just wanted to wipe away with the touch of his lips. “Then how come you haven’t noticed he never leaned in for a kiss? Or never whispered sweet nothings in my ear? Or never did anything apart from a friendly hug or teasing glance, unlike our dear friends Arwen and Aragorn have been doing from the moment they sat down?”    Truth be told Thranduil had noticed those things, yet his mind immediately went to the conclusion that they must be married. He had seen how Bard looked at the girl, his eyes filled with love and pride, yet now, as he went over every second he’d seen the pair together, he couldn’t find any fragment, no bits or pieces where they would be acting as more than a brother and a sister.    “And even if he had feelings that are more than the love you give to a friend or a family member, I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate. I couldn’t fathom loving someone like that and then watching them slowly wither away, grow old, while I myself don’t change.” There was inexplicable sadness in her tone.    “What do you mean?”    “I mean,” she huffed out, the cheery mood completely gone from her, “I’m immortal. When I was born I was given this gift… or more so a curse upon me. I do not know why. My parents never told me. I don’t know who did it, nor do I have any clue as to how they did it. All I know is that when the time comes, my friends will grow old, their hair will turn grey and they will die... and I’ll have to watch all of it, unable to stop it while I myself remain just as I am now.”    Thranduil wanted to pull the girl close to him, to never let go, to whisper in her ear, that he’ll always be by her side if only she’d let him.    “That’s why I fight, you know. That’s why the only constant I can rely on in this life is the notion that there will always be a war to participate in. And I guess that sort of soothes me as well.”    Thranduil quirked a brow for Y/N to continue.    “It makes me feel better about my life. It gives me purpose rather than wallowing in self-pity. I can make the world the children of my friends will live in a better place and I can help them make it safer…”    The king reached out to pull Y/N’s palm into his own, to run his thumb over her smooth knuckles, but the moment was interrupted by an intoxicated Bifur yelling for Y/N to join them in the dance.    “I’ll be there in a minute, save a dance for me.”    Y/N chuckled as she watched her drunken friend waddle away. A small smile, that Thranduil saw was laced with sadness and longing played on her features. His pale fingers reached to brush away a strand of silky Y/H/C hair that was obscuring her face, but Y/N moved completely away from the balcony.    “I should get back to the company before they physically drag me back inside.”    Thranduil bowed to the girl, not just a simple incline of the head, but a full-on waist-deep bow. “It has been a pleasure to be in your company,” he smirked straightening up, “Lady Y/N.”    The girl opened her mouth but pressed it together in an amused smile. “My King,” she said inclining her head as she swivelled around, the emerald green dress billowing like a leaf caught in the wind behind her.    After that conversation, Thranduil set his mind to courting the spunky girl. The next morning after the feast she woke up to discover an incredible cerulean blue dress laid upon the end of the bed accompanied by an intricate Carnation wreath.    Her appointed handmaiden upon seeing the flower crown had squealed like a madman and then furiously blushed. The elleth helped Y/N pull on the gown and positioned the petals so that her hair perfectly framed her features. When the girl had walked in for breakfast, everyone had stopped talking, all eyes averted on her.    “Oh, don’t tell me I look that bad, I didn’t drink much,” she snickered making her way to the same seat she’d occupied at the time of the feast.    “No, it is absolutely not that,” it was Bard who spoke up, “you look breathtaking.”    A small blush rose to her cheeks as she started to pile food on her plate. “Yes, well all of that is thanks to a mysterious person who left this in my room.” She turned back to eating and slowly conversation once again started to echo through the hall.    When Thranduil saw Y/N in the dress he’d made one of the maids lay out upon her bed and that she was, in fact, wearing the flower crown, the King knew right then and there that he’d marry the girl.    The sleepless morning he’d spent trying to figure out what to do turned out to not be a bad thing at all. Only when the first light of the Sun glittered through the windows had Thranduil drifted off to dreams, where his late wife, the reason he started to dispel the idea of courting Y/N, had appeared.    “My love, why do you do this to yourself, why not allow happiness make its way into your life, but rather succumb to sorrow?” she gently stroked the cheek of the elf.    “I do not wish to betray you,” a tear rolled down his cheek and the beautiful elleth wiped it away.    “Betray me how? By being happy? By allowing the light she has brought into your life once again shine brightly on the both of you? I wish nothing more than for you and Legolas to be filled with joy, so if you think that I’d be angry with you and your choice to bring happiness back into your life, then you never really knew your wife.”    “But I couldn’t save you… how can I ever protect another when I wasn’t even able to come to your rescue?”    “That, Meleth nîn, is what love comes with. The fear of not being there when your love needs you the most... But would you rather allow your heart to leap with happiness, or see the future you could have slip through the cracks of your fingers?” She gently caressed his face. “You have a chance most do not receive,” the late Queen pressed a gentle kiss to Thranduil’s forehead, “do not let it pass you by.”    “Thank you,” Thranduil shuddered as he woke up, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Thank you, my love.”    But as the week progressed it started to seem to him, his feelings were not reciprocated. They had gone on many walks together and spent hours talking not only about the wars, but just about themselves, yet Thranduil couldn’t quite get the grasp of what Y/N felt towards him.    And right as the last day of their stay came by, which by then Thranduil had given up on the chance of having the girl by his side, she made her way into his study.    “Okay, what is going on?” with arms on her hips, she looked like a tiny angry elk. “Why does everyone when I pass them by either sneer at me and tell me I’d never be good enough or run off giggling. It has been happening for the past week and the looks intensify when I’m with you, so my inkling is that you have some fault in this, Thranduil.”    “Whatever do you mean?” he placed down the papers his eyes had been scanning moments before.    “I don’t know, you tell me!” exasperation rang through the room. “Oh, and why the hell is everyone bowing and calling me a Lady? They all know I am not royalty, so what the bloody hell is going on?”    And then it dawned on him. It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t have the same feelings, or he hoped that it wasn’t, she didn’t know the meaning behind the flower crowns she wore each day, specifically portraying a message of someone who courts another in the elven society. “Do you know what the flowers upon your head symbolise?”    “What does the flower crown have to do with it?”    “Everything,” the King took a deep breath as he moved closer to the girl, with each step explaining what the different crowns had meant. “The first day I gave you Carnations-“    “It was you?”    He simply nodded. “They symbolise the pledge of love and promise of marriage.”    Her breath hitched in her throat and Thranduil could only hope it was a good sign. “The next day,” he ebbed closer, “were Azaleas connoting for you to take care yourself for me.”    “Then came the third crown with sunlit Daffodils, to show my longing and hope for a new start. Fourth in line came the Gillyflower- to match and show your beauty. A crown of Gardenias adorned your head on the fifth day, to show my affections through them even though I wished nothing but to shout it from the tops of the mountains. Yesterday you put a wreath of white Dittanys that I hoped would whisper in your ear of the love I hold for you…”    They were now standing nose to nose. Y/N could feel his breath fanning over her face as she couldn’t stop looking into the eyes of the king. “And what does today mean?” It was barely a whisper.    “The Amaranth symbolise immortality of my love for you.”    The girl could only gulp as language escaped her mind.    “You have captured my heart Y/N,” his trembling fingers grasped hers. They never shook and yet here the mighty elven King was scared to death of hearing the answer to what he thought was expressed to the fullest extent. “And my only hope is that the feelings I hold for you are returned.”    She couldn't move, couldn’t speak only stare at the tall man above her.    His palm removed a strand of hair that had fallen out from the woven plait that weaved around the crown. “But I do understand if you do n-“    Thranduil didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence as the girl pressed her lips against his. The King’s body went rigid from the initial shock, but it took him no more than a second to grab onto her waist and pull her body flush against his.    Only when the pair was in dire need of air did they pull back from one another, their foreheads, however, remained together.    “Would that mean, if I asked you to stay here, in the Woodland realm, after today, you would say yes?”    “I don’t know,” a smirk crept upon her face, her eyes still closed, body relishing in the feeling of what just happened. “How do you say “maybe” with flowers?” that smirk grew as her Y/E/C met Thranduil’s blue ones. He smiled back at her and this time, he pressed his mouth to the girl’s, wiping the smile away like had wanted to do so many times.

   The King smiled at the feeling of the memory, as his eyes once again roaming over the body of the girl who had become his wife not long after the confession. He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s collarbone where a love bite already sat, marks of the activities they’d taken part last night.    “Nooooo,” she groaned and turned her back to Thranduil, “too early. Back… sleep… need… go… to.”    He couldn’t help but chuckle at his wife's behaviour. Truth be told, he knew that a day spent in bed was the least she deserved when his eyes caught the sight of the blue and pink camellia crown sitting on the bedside table. The same one he’d placed upon her head when she, Legolas and more guards went into the woods.    The darkness had spread and so had the infectious spiders. Thranduil didn’t want Y/N to go, with how dangerous the forests had become, but he also knew, that she was an incredible fighter, rivalling the best of his kin.    “I will come back, I promise,” she pressed a passion-filled kiss to his lips, “you can’t get rid of me that easy. It’ll take more than a few eight-legged beasts to do that.”    “Stubborn are we?” he smiled down at the armour clad girl.    “The most.”    And know, after a week of cleaning out the woods, killing as many spiders as possible she was once again in his arms. Well, technically not anymore. Y/N had hogged the blanket moving to the furthest side of the bed, covering herself with the soft material so Thranduil could only see the top of her Y/H/C hair.    “Meleth, it’s time to wake up, the Sun is already above the ground.”    Her response was a string of incoherent words.    “Petal, please,” he moved closer, removing the duvet and kissing another mark he’d left on her shoulder, a twin to the ones that were littered over her back and chest.    “Sleep… you… now… me… kill… you… care,” those were the only words he could decipher that weren’t muffled by the pillow she had shoved her face in.    “I have a whole day planned for us, Meleth nin. Just us, together.”    With a groan Y/N turned to face her husband, one eye open, slightly squinting, trying to adjust to the morning light. “Then why can’t we spend it together… in bed… asleep?”    Her warm palm roamed over Thranduil’s broad chest, resting upon where his heart beat a steady beat.    “Because I wish to enjoy this beautiful day with my Queen by my side,” he murmured in the crook of her neck, pressing gentle kisses.    “Hmm,” her fingers wove through the silvery hair that tickled her skin, “sometimes I curse the cruel fate, that made me marry you.”    “Is that so?” his lips moved to glide across her jaw, “then why did you marry me?”    “You know. Riches beyond belief, status as a Queen, a comfortable life,” her eyes opened fully to look at her husband, placing a strand of blond hair behind the pointy ear, “and you’re pretty nice to look at.”    “So,” he kissed the girl on the lips, “you married me,” he accentuated every word with a press of his lips on hers, “just so you could be rich and have something pretty to wake up to in the morning.”    “Yeah,” she let her tongue intertwine with his, “can’t seem to find any other reason as to why I’d marry someone who clearly has no regard for other people and their need for sleep.”    “Mhmm,” they continued the lazy movements for some time before both of them needed to get a proper breath of air. “So,” he brushed his nose against hers, “breakfast?”    “Uggghhhh,” Y/N groaned once again and buried herself in his chest. “Give me fifteen more minutes and I’ll be ready.’    “I’ll take your word for it,” Thranduil kissed his wife once more before getting up and pulling a simple pair of night-pants on, “or you’ll have to wait until lunch before we can stop and eat.”    His own eyes now finally saw the similar markings Y/N had left on his chest, a deep laugh reverberating through his large body.    “Yeah, fine,” she snuggled into his pillow.    Thranduil removed a piece of hair from her back and pressed his lips to her shoulder blade. “I’ll be waiting for you, Melethen.” A soft snore was the only response he got.    With a huff of laughter, he pulled on a robe and ventured down to where they would break fast. But unbeknownst to him, a darkness had found its way into their kingdom and it had nothing but evil intentions. Like a pine seed in the air, swished by the winds, the dark mass moved across the sky, gliding against the buildings and blending into the shadows. Once it came upon the open balcony doors of the royal chambers it seeped into the room and before Y/N could reach for her blade, eyes open with shock, it plunged into her body, making her succumb to the blackness.

A/N: I have fallen into a hole that is Lee Pace and I can’t get out!! help!!! omg I love him so much, like uuuugggghhhhhhhh!!! Desperately need season 3 of Pushing Daisies even though I know it’ll never happen, just need the perfection that he is in my life

This is gonna be a quite short series, I’m thinking 3-4 parts all together, but I needed to get this out of my brain, cause I can’t work on anything else if I don’t.

I know I’m supposed to put the last part to The One That Got Away and I apologise to those who are waiting and I haven’t done so, just my brain wouldn’t cooperate if I didn’t do this first. I promise it’s coming

P.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests drop a message

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credits 

Translations of some words/ phrases/ flower meanings: 

Meleth nîn; melethen- my love

Firen- human

Blue and pink camellia- (blue) you are the flame of my heart; (pink) longing for you- I long for your touch

[lindafrancois]

How to Start Meditating: The Ultimate Guide for Beginner’s Meditation

This article is from NF Team Member Taylor

It’s time to learn how to meditate!

Being mindful is practically a superpower, which is why we assign fun meditation assignments to our 1-on-1 Online Coaching Clients. 

The Nerd Fitness Coaching program is changing lives. Learn more here.

Here’s what we’ll cover in our Beginner’s Guide to Meditation:

Why is meditation important? (The Rider and the Elephant)

What exactly is meditation? (The perils of being lost in thought)

How do you meditate? How long should beginners meditate?

What are the benefits of meditation? 

How often should you meditate?

Getting started with a meditation practice (Next steps)

Go find a quiet place. Then let’s get started.

Why Is Meditation Important?

I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said meditation is practically a superpower.

Think of this superpower like the power of X-men’s Mystique, but for your mind. 

Instead of the ability to alter your appearance to meet the challenges of any given situation, meditation allows you to alter your mind to conquer the day.

Why does this matter?

Because sometimes our minds can seem like they have a mind of their own:

When we are on our commute and someone is a jerk, we get angry. We don’t seem to have a choice in the matter – we just GET ANGRY.

When a friend says something stupid, we roll our eyes.

When they say something witty and intelligent, we laugh.

There is no deliberation, no Council of Elrond to decide how you should feel and respond.

That’s just how our brains work.

Daniel Kahneman, in the famed Thinking Fast and Slow, proposed we think about thinking in two ways.

System 1: Fast Thinking – automatic, frequent, emotional, subconscious.

System 2: Slow thinking – deliberative, effortful, infrequent, logical, conscious.

System 1 is responsible for most of what you do every day. This fast thinking does so much on your behalf, that you may not even realize it.

System 2 doesn’t kick in until you are tasked with something like solving a riddle, filling out a tax form, or walking at a pace that is unnaturally fast.

Another social psychologist, Jonathan Haidt, describes these systems with a different metaphor: a rider on an elephant.

In The Happiness Hypothesis, he explains he selected this metaphor to demonstrate the power of the elephant (fast thinking), and the powerlessness of the rider (slow thinking). While the rider might feel in control, at the top of the elephant with reigns in hand, it is truly the elephant that is running things.

What Exactly Is Meditation?

Meditation is simply the practice of learning how to pay attention.

It’s not something magic.

It’s not a cult or a religion.

Meditation is just a mental exercise to strengthen your mind.  

This mental exercise is increasingly necessary in the modern world.

It turns out, at any given time almost half of us are lost in thought unrelated to what’s in front of us. And when we are mentally wandering, we are significantly less happy.[1]

As Matthieu Ricard explains in his TED Talk – when neuroscientists looked at his brain while meditating, he scored “off the scale” in brain activity related to happiness, compassion, and altruism.

At the end of the day, isn’t happiness what we’re all chasing?

That’s why we spend so much time with “mindset” in our 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program. Sure, we help people lose weight and get strong, but we also assign fun “side quests” to help with mindfulness, gratitude, and general well being.

A Nerd Fitness Coach can help you get in shape, while also leveling up your mental well being. Learn more here!

How Do You Meditate? How Long Should Beginners Meditate?

To start, pick a time in your day you can regularly designate as your time to meditate.

It should be a time you can find a quiet place, without distraction or interruption.

As a beginner, you don’t need to meditate for long. Just five minutes a day is a great place to start.

Too much? Try TWO minutes.

The important part is building the daily habit. We can bump up the frequency down the road.

The meditation practice I’m going to describe for you below is a basic mindfulness practice. There are many different styles of meditation, but every type of meditation is about cultivating attention and awareness, or learning to be in the present moment without grasping. [2]

Be sure to set a timer before you begin. Time tends to slow down when in deep meditation, so when you’re just starting it may feel like 10 minutes…but it’s only been 5.

The timer will help here at first. 

AS A BEGINNER, HERE’S HOW TO MEDITATE:

Find a place to sit that allows your back to be in an upright position. You don’t need to sit cross-legged, but you can if you wish. A chair or sitting against a wall also works well. Feel free to use a cushion under your bottom to help your posture and make yourself more comfortable. The goal is a posture that helps you stay alert, but is still comfortable. You can meditate with your eyes open or closed.

As you begin, take several deep, slow breaths to gather concentration. Inhale deeply, filling your lungs to the brim. Then slowly exhale. Follow your breath carefully with your attention through this process.

After a few breaths, or when you feel your concentration has settled, begin to breathe naturally. Notice the breath at a specific point, most commonly with the rising and falling of the chest, at your nostrils, or at your abdomen. Don’t force it. Don’t glue your attention there. Simply allow your breath to come and go naturally, following it as it naturally unfolds.

When you get lost in thought, simply return your attention back to the breath. Bringing your attention back to the breath is a central part of the process –  think about it like performing an exercise repetition. Each time you do this you are rewiring your brain – no different from doing a repetition in strength training. So, don’t feel guilty or beat yourself up. You can’t control when you get distracted. But then magically, each time you realize you are distracted and you “wake up” – at this point, just return to the breath!

This is where we recommend most beginners start – a broad and basic breath concentration practice. Think about this no differently than starting with just the bar before adding weight, when learning to squat.

Three meditation apps that some at Team Nerd Fitness have had success with:

Headspace

Calm

Waking Up

These programs can help you get going with a simple mindfulness practice. 

Here’s something else to consider as you get started:

Beginners often find it difficult to stay aware when thoughts arise, and find themselves noticing they have been thinking only after being lost in thoughts for several minutes.

This is normal! 

When you notice this happening, just return to focusing on your breath.

One last thing to consider would be guided meditations, where someone’s voice guides and directs you through a mindfulness practice.

Guided meditation is great to incorporate into anyone’s meditation practice (beginner, intermediate, or advanced), and certainly when the mind is especially restless.

Here are 5 resources that may help with guided meditation:

UCLA Mindful Awareness Research Center – Simple and effective mindfulness guided practice.

Ohio University guided meditations – a variety of styles to try.

UC San Diego’s Center for Mindfulness – a list of long and short guided meditations.

A compilation mostly mindfulness audio and guided meditations.

Doctor Who fans might enjoy Dalek’s Relaxation for Humans, although I can’t comment on its effectiveness:

What Are the Benefits of Meditation?

The superpower meditation builds is the ability to be at the character selection screen, for any given situation, at any given time.

You see, because of how our brains work, it can be hard to exert a level of control in our lives – from our response to a social interaction, to changing fundamental aspects of our life. 

When something happens, we just react.

That’s System 1.

There’s no conscious deliberative process when a cute girl/guy walks up to you, or some car cuts you off in traffic. It’s no surprise that we often feel frustrated with our reactions after-the-fact.

Imagine the ability to replay the events, and always act with a calm and collected demeanor, delivering the best response you have to offer. That’s what meditation can help do for you.

I’m not talking managing an emotion, or suppressing a thought.

This is not “serenity now, insanity later.”

This isn’t about dealing with things AFTER you get angry or sad, but the power to actually change both how you feel and how you respond.

That is true power.

Neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor uses anger as an example in her wonderful TED Talk:

In her speech, Dr. Taylor explains that the physiological response from anger can only last 90 seconds.

Yet, as humans, we can stay angry seemingly FOREVER.

Why?

We are doing it to ourselves, by rethinking the thought and redoing the physiological response over and over. If you’ve ever gotten angry and let it fester, feeling angrier and angrier after, you know what she’s talking about.

As Dr.Taylor explains, we all have a superpower within us, but most of us surrender it.

Or as she puts us, we surrender our neurocircuitry:

“We are neurocircuitry. Your neurocircuitry is YOUR neurocircuitry, and you do not have the ability to stimulate and trigger my neurocircuitry without my permission. You cannot make me angry, unless I stick my trigger out there for you to pounce on and stimulate my neurocircuitry. If I give you the power to stimulate my neurocircuitry, then I have given you my power. And I give you my power, then I become vulnerable to you…”

This isn’t just helpful for our daily interactions, but for big life changes too – like cleaning up your diet or finally building that habit of exercise.

Through meditation, you can learn to focus your attention where you choose. As you begin the practice, you will start to notice your thoughts and feelings more consciously, and let go of the ones that aren’t useful to you. You will start to reforge the character of your choosing.

This might have real physiological benefits. 

While there is obviously some hype going on with mindfulness (it’s over a billion-dollar industry in the U.S. alone), there does some to be some evidence of meditation providing “modest benefits” for certain conditions.[3]

Dan Harris does a great job summarizing some of the benefits of meditation here:

Meditation may help:

Reduce stress. Studies have shown that a meditation practice can help users lower their stress levels. Although to be fair, it doesn’t seem to impact cortisol levels, our main stress hormone.[4] Still, being able to recenter can help you look at a stressful scenario with fresh eyes.

Alleviate depression. When we’re stressed, we release inflammatory chemicals called cytokines, which can lead to depression. A meditation practice may help limit the release of cytokines, reducing the risk of depression.[5]

Manage pain. Our perceptions of pain are tied to our state of mind.[6] Given this, it makes sense that a meditation practice can help alleviate certain types of pain.[7]

Plus, Wolverine meditates, so mindfulness may help you come to terms with the fact you were designed to be a mindless, soulless killing machine.[8]

Or…help you calm down after your flight is delayed for an hour. Same difference. 

How Often Should You Meditate?

Now that you know how to meditate, you need to understand one final thing.

You have to train this power like a muscle.

Even if you have a good day or a good week in the gym, you need to be at it for months and months, and then STAY at it, to live with the benefits for a lifetime.

We’re doing the same thing with our meditation practice.

No different from squatting incrementally more weight, you are training your brain to get stronger.

Just like squatting, you won’t see profound benefits after a single session. Instead, you will level up after weeks and months of consistency.

The same way squatting regularly builds muscle, meditation literally builds gray matter in your brain.[9] Soon enough, that “automatic mode” or elephant we talked about will begin to change too (literally rewiring your brain).[10]

Much like groceries will slowly begin to feel lighter after strength training, so to will you gradually notice the benefits of meditation.

So how often should a beginner meditate? 

Daily if possible.

It might feel intimidating now to think about, but just like with diet and exercise, once the habit is established, you won’t even notice:

Once you become someone who goes to the gym regularly, that’s just who you are now.

Once you become someone who meditates for five minutes a day, that’s just what you do.

Getting Started With a Meditation Practice (Next Steps)

We all know the story of Luke Skywalker, not because he had this power within him and chose to walk away from it, but because he seized the opportunity to understand the Force.

Don’t be the Jedi who is walking away from your potential.

As a kid, I always thought that comic books had it backwards – the superpower found the superhero (I’m looking at you Spiderman), rather than the other way around.

What if we all had the potential to develop our power, and only the true superheroes do? Now that would be awesome.

That’s what meditation allows us to do.

Not only does meditation boost your health in a range of tangible ways, but more importantly, it helps us to enjoy the here and now. You might call this loving the game, or enjoying the process.

That’s why today we’re issuing a meditation challenge:

Commit to meditating every day, for two weeks straight (using an app, website, or guided meditation if you wish).

It can just be for five minutes. Or two minutes.

The important part is establishing a new habit.

Then maybe we can all start bending spoons together:

I think that just about does it for this article.

Before I let you go, if you want to continue your journey with Nerd Fitness as you level up your life, I’ve got three great options for you to do so.

HERE ARE NEXT STEPS IF YOU WANT TO GO FARTHER! 

#1) Our 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program: a coaching program for busy people to help them lose weight, get strong, and level up their lives!

We believe that mindfulness is so important, we assign fun meditation “side quests” to our clients, to help build the practice. 

Our coaching program changes lives. Learn more here!

#2) Exercising at home and need a plan to follow? Check out Nerd Fitness Journey!

Our fun habit-building app helps you exercise more frequently, eat healthier, and level up your life (literally).

Try your free trial right here:

#3) Join our amazing free community, the Nerd Fitness Rebellion! Not only is it free to join, but we’ll provide you with loads of free goodies when you sign-up:

Get your Nerd Fitness Starter Kit

The 15 mistakes you don’t want to make.

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Complete and track your first workout today, no gym required.

Now, your turn:

What questions do you have about meditation?

What are your experiences?

Struggles?

Victory?

-Taylor

PS: Make sure you check out A Nerd’s Guide to Mindfulness for more tips and tricks on living in the here and now.

###

Gif source: Mystique, Smiling Brain, Mortal Kombat, Anakin Skywalker, Wolverine in rain, Spider-Man, Homer,  Spoon

photo source: Rob Young:Lego X-Men – Professor X, Alexey Kuzin © 123RF.com, Yevgeniya Borodinova © 123RF.com

Footnotes    ( returns to text)

Scientific America has a great article on the subject.

This article discusses the many different types of meditation if you’re interested.

Here’s an interesting warning on the hype of meditation, provided by 15 prominent psychologists and cognitive scientists. On the flip side, here’s the NIH on the benefits of mindfulness.

Read, “Meditation programs for psychological stress and well-being: a systematic review and meta-analysis.” Source, PubMed.

Read, “Effect of meditation on neurophysiological changes in stress mediated depression.” Source, PubMed.

Read, “Pain in Times of Stress.” Sources, PubMed.

Read, “Brain Mechanisms Supporting the Modulation of Pain by Mindfulness Meditation.” Source, PubMed.

HuffPost takes a look at Hugh Jackman’s meditation practice here.

Read, “Mindfulness practice leads to increases in regional brain gray matter density.” Source, PubMed.

Read, “Meditation experience is associated with differences in default mode network activity and connectivity.” Source, PNAS.

How to Start Meditating: The Ultimate Guide for Beginner’s Meditation published first on https://dietariouspage.tumblr.com/

[threehoursfromtroy]

March of Process - Pt 7

Part 6

A dark and somber turn in the Spirit World flashbacks signals a dark and somber turn in the main plot. Korra talking about contemplating suicide? We saw her on the cliff at the end of Book 1, looking over the side; she went to the same cliff again during Korra Alone, ostensibly to practice, but the subtext is hard to ignore. So much of Korra's sense of self-worth, through most of the show, was centered on being the Avatar; her darkest moments are when she thinks she can't be what she's 'supposed' to be, and then what good is she?

Obviously, she's an amazing and strong person, Avatar or no, but its hard to see that yourself, when you're standing on the edge. And harder still, sometimes, to talk about it with people you care about. Especially when the one you care about most has lost everything else she holds dear...

Back to the plot proper, foreboding has built and we get... a meeting with the president. Or first, a drive to a meeting with the president. I write too many 'going from place to place' scenes. Its a crutch. It's a way to get two characters talking alone, but I can impart a lot of this information without having to explain to readers how characters change locations. Probably.

Point is, I could've started this chapter with the kiss on the steps—and boy, isn't it a good one?—without losing anything. That's my editor talking, and were this a novel I was submitting for publication, that's what I'd do, picking what material out of that conversation I NEED the audience to know and sneaking it in elsewhere. But I never wear my editor hat while writing. That's a surefire recipe to bogging yourself down. Write as a writer, edit as an editor, but don't do both at once.

After that, the big meeting scene... I have a special loathing for these, haha. Too many characters in a room means you have to spend a lot of time passing the conversation from one to another, and you can't ever forget which characters are there. Everybody in the room has to have their own agenda, and it's tiring to keep them all in mind, making these scenes complicated to write AND generally just piles of exposition. Sometimes it can't be helped, you just gotta Council of Elrond that shit, but they're tricky to make work well.

At least here, I've got several plotlines/character threads to tic off. Eska learning how to be a better person, with Tonraq's help especially. Raiko's pettiness. Asami thinking tactically, which comes into play later. The situations in Zaofu and Kuodan both. Iroh's relationship with his mom. But the crux of the matter is the plot separating Korra and Asami.

Honestly, my original plans were to make this situation even more complicated. If Progress and increasing complexity were the overarching problems Korra is dealing with, then creating not one but several critical, Avatar-level situations at the same time goes to show how tenuous things have become. One woman isn't enough to police the whole world, no matter how amazing she is; having two crises makes this point well enough. The other issues perhaps acted as enough distraction to allow these problems to grow large. After all, eight or ten chapters ago, who could've known which development was barreling toward disaster and which could be worked out by a precocious teenage girl?  

Of course, Eska isn't that much older, and as much as she's grown, she still manages to set of Raiko. Of course, he's an infant, so... (The insult to his authority is just enough to get him to go off and do a stupid thing, which plays into a lot of plots in the final act. The guns involved in the plot in Ba Sing Se all get there because of what Raiko does at the end of this chapter. Decision. Consequence. Gotta have consequence.)

The emotional meat of the chapter, though, is Asami's conversation with Korra, being asked to stay behind while Korra goes into danger. Again. Can't Korra understand how terrified of abandonment Asami is? Can't Korra see she's still questioning her own judgment, after trying to kill the man that killed her mother? Of course, Korra can. Korra knows that. And Asami knows that Korra knows, but emotionally... emotionally, these things are a lot more complicated. Asami collects herself—the setup makes sense—and we set our trajectories.

Finally, after how many chapters away? I get back to Kuodan. (Three. It was three chapters.) I may have stayed away a little too long—the intent was to build up foreboding, but you can go too far with it, to the point that readers begin to disinvest. That might not be as bad a problem if you can read straight through, now, but posting once a week makes that more pronounced. (Yes, once a week; up until this point, I'd been posting weekly, but then, everything changed when grad school attacked. I did some math, and realized that, the amount of material I had written ahead would get me through to winter break if I switched to biweekly. Better to be steady than have large gaps in posting I thought! But I also thought that the story was gonna clock in at 28 or so chapters at that point, so more the fool me.)

Given that time away, I focus entirely on this plotline, and further, I made the decision to use entirely my original characters for POVs—to further put the fate of Tenzin and Zuko in doubt, as well as to add more tension to the narrative. Readers may be less immediately attached to Caluqtiq and Nuktik, though the strength they show here in spite of their terror helps invest them. But because these aren't series regulars, there's also a greater perceived chance that they could be hurt or killed—at least, such was the theory.

I'd say this is their chapter to shine, and they do, but I think this is more their chapter to really prove themselves, whereas their arc in the last third of the story really takes them above and beyond. But given that I made Nuktik a transgender character, having this establishing plot have no bearing whatsoever upon his gender, save perhaps for appreciating Zuko as something of a father figure in this scary time, is exactly the kind of representation we need to have out there. Nuktik is a Northerner, a waterbender, a young man, a fan of Katara, transgender... these are all aspects of his character, but no single one of them defines him. Too often, when a transgender character is written, 'transgender' is all they're allowed to be. We can be so much more. The chapter, though, ends much like it began—with Tenzin and the others in peril, but hopefully with the tension raised. We know how far the company in the town will go to cover this up, and yeah there's a bit of anti-anarcho-capitalism going on here. There's a bit of dipping into the Pullman strike and other early labor actions here, but more I just let it play out.

Speaking of playing out... is it really two more chapters before the characters get to Kuodan? Gosh my pacing was worse than I thought! :/ Here's another 'showing every step' problem like I have, where chapter 15 and 16 BOTH deal with plot setup that largely could've been skipped. I was focused more on character moments, I think, and when you're writing a cast of roughly nine million characters, that takes a while.  Lemme go through and see what would be worth keeping or not... Well the flashback in 15 was me explaining my relative lack of spirits in the Spirit World in a cute way, and not at all because I just didn't think to include them and wanted to focus more on Korrasami fluff. As a classic turning a weakness into a strength, it works.

Korra and Asami have a sweet moment on the boat. Asami's still unpacking the fact that she shot somebody with intent to kill. Having Asami accidentally say 'married yet,' showing this nice close scene with Tonraq... probably had to have at least one more fluffy, supportive thing before Everything Goes To Shit. Not a great scene but could be salvaged. Bolin, too, is unpacking what he saw Asami do, and Opal provides some fairly unique insight, as a former non-bender. Tensions between the groups are something that book 1 squandered a golden opportunity to explore, and while I don't get fully into it in this story, it is an undercurrent that I like to touch on when it makes sense. Cute scene, overall not super necessary other than to perhaps add perspective to Asami's actions. If Bolin weren't part of Team Avatar, honestly, he could probably be cut from the story entirely? I'll say more on that in a minute.

Mako and his crew are still driving (too much transit, again), but this scene is mostly just to touch base with that plotline because it had been a while and still would be. It's short, probably okay. Asami and Pema... okay I really love this scene. I wanted a scene with Asami and Korra's parents, probably the one scene I never could find a way to put in, but it's so like Asami to think of the one person everyone else always seems to take for granted. Have I said yet how much I admire all the moms in this show? I'm sure Pema has mothered Asami a little here and there, and you know Miss Sato appreciated every moment of it. Good short scene, good character moment, keep it. Jinora finally gets back into the plot! I hadn't intended to sideline her as I had, but it became a convenient way to draw out tension, as she's the easiest way to get information from Kuodan, and the reader knows it. Now she's back, and gonna be blaming herself unfairly. Hopefully Big Sister Korra can explain to her why that's a bad plan. Plot-relevant, character moment, probably could trim it a little but it would stay.

Kuvira—she's still in this! But her plot is still tertiary; like the Mako plot, this is here mostly to keep the readers up to speed, and set up later stuff. Her plot is in holding position, though it rumbles just a bit as it's revealed at the end that it's not her army around Zaofu. Shorten perhaps, but keep. Lin—I really love this Lin scene, furious at herself for daring to have a good time with Kya, but the moment she hears what's going on, that all vanishes, and Kya is the first person she thinks of. Then Raiko calls and gets her all mad again. Kyalin becomes more prominent in the last third in particular, and this is just some wonderful Beifong material, so I think mostly keep it. Ugh, so in the end, with one pass, I haven't changed much. Bridge chapters are tough. Some of this, I could've found other ways to handle, particularly if I'd done the next chapter another way. But alas... I considered not having a flashback in chapter 16, just because it has a single pov for the rest of the chapter, the only one in the world to do so (and it's neither Korra nor Asami). In the end, however, the moment in the flashback—Korra's trauma episode, Asami helping her through it and helping her confidence—are important to show, given what's coming up. I knew there wouldn't be another chance for fluff in the present for quite some time, so as much in the flashbacks as possible would be important. And finally, a structural change in the story like leaving the flashback out would have made a statement, and this wasn't the place where that statement would've meant anything. The chapter itself:

Hey, Shannon, Bolin really hasn't gotten to do much in a while! That's true, Shannon. Why don't I give him an ENTIRE chapter from his perspective? That'll make up for it, right? Splendid! <Half a chapter later> Bolin isn't doing anything in this chapter to justify being the perspective it's told through. Shannon, help! Well, Shannon, it is at least interesting to see the perspective of a background character as all this critical stuff is happening around him. That's a valid thing to do. I suppose, Shannon, I suppose... but it still doesn't fix the problem of Bolin BEING a background character. All he's doing is follow people around and going with the flow. That's all Bolin EVER does, Shannon! That's kinda his character!

AAAAHHHH

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH WAIT

What?

Wait wait wait I have it! What?! Bolin and Opal have been together like, three years at this point, right?

Yeah so—oh I see it now too!!!

That would totally justify putting the whole chapter from his perspective—

—so long as all the little snippets he sees involve supportive and loving relationships and help him realize how much Opal means to him—

—thus creating an arc in the chapter that's not even apparent to the moment he pops the question!

YES I'M LOVING IT! GREAT JOB SHANNON!

IT'S LIKE I PLANNED IT ALL ALONG! AHAHAHA!

*cough*

Yeah basically that.

As for the side stories... this is also the chapter where I realized that a lot of queerness had cropped up in the story (this is not a complaint, merely and observation), and so had a little fun at Kai's expense. Brought back the famous airbender girlfriends, maybe somethings going on with Eska and Somi, the radio lady, Lin and Kya are not used to these feelings and crap but they don't have time to deal with it right now... just a ton of little quiet lovely moments. Was it worth the scenes I lost? No chance for Korrasami with Korra's parents, primary among them? That, I'm not sure. But Bolin's surprise (and surprisingly smooth) proposal gave me another lever to pull later in the story, and heck if that one didn't work out!

Part 8