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#dwarves are better than men
maegalkarven · 5 months
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Probably unpopular opinion, but The Ranger Achieves series is better than The Echoes saga.
Idc about all these elves and mages and young greycoats falling in love with elves, and the plot, and evil elf rising, and the other evil elf serving the Main Evil elf scheming in the Nightfall-
I just care about Asher and whatever fuckery is going on with him at the moment.
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catsvrsdogscatswin · 2 months
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Underutilized bit in LOTR, I feel, is how deeply out of his depth Boromir is within the Fellowship.
And by that I don't mean that he's the weakest or the stupidest or any of that, but rather that –against all appearances– he is the sole member of the Fellowship who is a Regular Normal Human, and he would have such a shocker slowly figuring all that out over the course of their journey. I mean:
Age. Legolas and Gimli wouldn't surprise him, since the lifespan of elves and dwarves seems commonly known to be way longer than humans, but Gandalf? The hobbits? None of these ages work as advertised and when he goes down to sit and commiserate with Aragorn about being the only Men in the company and how weird this all must be for them both Aragorn has to cough into his fist and mutter "Eighty-seven." "WHAT?!" (Yes, I know that Gondor keeps records of their Númenórean ancestors and said ancestors' extended lifespans, but consider this: the blood has thinned so much in Gondor that practically nobody lives longer than regular humans nowadays, and Boromir is canonically the jock in a family of scholars. He had to look up what/where Rivendell was after he got Faramir's Prophecy Dream, for god's sake.)
Bilbo. The entire Fellowship except Boromir has a personal relationship with Bilbo, and Boromir has neither seen nor heard of this creature in his life. Everyone else is starting off this quest with significant background knowledge of Bilbo's life and The Hobbit, whether having been told by Bilbo himself or having had family members personally involved at the time it occurred, and Boromir, again, has no clue what they're all on about.
Moria. Dwarves presumably have some built-in sensory adaptions for living underground, elf eye physics are bullshit, hobbits are stated to be far more comfortable/better navigating underground than most races, Gandalf is an Istar, and Aragorn has been hunting and tracking in various ungodly locations for most of his eighty-seven years. This means that, once again, Boromir is the only Normal Person trying to Normally Navigate a mostly-pitch-black cave system while everyone else side-eyes him for bumping into walls all the time.
Elves can sleep with their eyes open. This is admittedly not the most common thing among the Fellowship, but please imagine Boromir, still struggling to understand the fact that he's surrounded by nonhuman beings who have no shared concept of the passing of time, rolling over at 2AM to see Legolas bluescreening contentedly up at the sky, and then everyone acts like he's the weird one when he starts freaking out about it because all of them are used to traveling with/know more about elves than he does.
Even just remembering stuff off the top of my head, Boromir must have had such a weird time adjusting to being the only normal human being among the Fellowship before he, y'know. Died.
(Plus I can totally imagine Merry and Pippin giving him shit for "Well, if you're the only normal one amongst nearly a dozen people, then that's not very 'normal', is it? Maybe Men are the odd ones out and everybody else is normal.")
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"It’s no longer 1937… she’s not gonna be saved by the prince." 
The absolute DISRESPECT for the FIRST ANIMATED MOVIE EVER MADE and its female character who was strong in her own way! The DISRESPECT for Snow White coming from people who plan to """update""" her story??? I'm FUMING. i am FURIOUS. This is the SAME shit I said about Girlboss Cinderella do you understand???
Snow White was an abused CHILD who was isolated within her castle and then suddenly thrown into the  woods and she managed to survive using only her hope and kindness!!! She found a house and offered to work to earn her keep and she DID!!! Snow does not have to be a badass to be a strong female character. And more importantly, SHE DOES NOT NEED TO BE "BADASS" TO DESERVE HER HAPPY ENDING. Some of us in abusive situations CANNOT escape on our own. We CANNOT physically fight back and WE STILL DESERVE HAPPY ENDINGS.
Women don't have to be badasses in order to be strong female characters. So she needs to be saved-- so WHAT? Saying Snow White is an antifeminist character solely because she doesn't save herself is offensive to abuse survivors and to the original character who WAS a good character. You can criticize OTHER parts of the movie– the implication that men living without women will be useless and filthy the entire time, or we can discuss the Queen’s feud with Snow being fuelled by misogynist standards, etc.!! But just saying “she needs to be saved so it’s bad” LIKE. ARE YOU SERIOUS
Badass Snow White reboots are fine in moderation, but just like Girlboss Cinderella reboots, too many and it becomes clear what society is trying to say now- that if you're feminine and can't fight a battle, you don't deserve to be saved. Do you see why this is a bad message????? Some girls are badasses who can kill and fight as well as or better than the boys. Those girls have Mulan, Merida, Raya, Moana, Rapunzel, Elsa. They are good female characters. But you know what? So is Snow White. So is Cinderella.
I'm sure people are going to accuse me of being antifeminist for saying “oh she NEEDS to be saved by a man”– I’m NOT SAYING THAT. You could have her be saved by a woman. Be saved by the dwarves, her platonic friends. By the animals. You could write a badass Snow White reboot without being disrespectful to the original film or tale. Just fucking TODAY I read the Disney Mirrorverse Snow White book– it’s written for 13yos basically so not high art but even with them having to make her an adaptational badass, they managed to keep her personality PERFECTLY. She learns how to save herself in this book, but also remains HERSELF. And her previous inability to fight was NOT CRITICIZED by any character; her sudden badassery was a bonus for her, not an indication of her character!!!
YOU are the ones saying that if Snow White (and Cinderella) isn't saving herself, she doesn't deserve to be saved. But everyone deserves happiness and that includes those too weak to fight for it alone.
anyway that was a long feminist rant. this is also super disrespectful to the FIRST ANIMATED MOVIE EVER, the people who worked on it, Walt Disney himself, and everyone who enjoyed or was inspired by it. You absolute fucking dickheads.
also can't believe i have to say this but if y'all use this as an excuse to be racist towards anyone in the cast i will hunt you down and put shoelaces in your lungs
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lonicera-edulis · 2 months
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For the character ask if you're still taking: Thorin 18, 24, 29, 30? :>
18. How do you think they were as a kid? (Like, were they shy, noisy, wild, etc)
He and his younger brother were a team of rascals. But gradually Thorin became more serious and anxious teen while watching after his goldsick grandfather.
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24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?
I am not sure, there are many probably. Maybe some unpleasant encounter with Men in Bree when he worked there. But he probably would share this with Dwalin at least 🤔
And with what Balin's actor once said Thorin didn't keep his crush on Bilbo to himself as well it seems asdfghjk
Maybe something involving elves then? Okay, I just thought of something funny. What if he met an elf (who was moving to Grey Havens and dwarves didn't know why exactly elves go there). But the elf was also bad at directions. To make it more natural for Thorin, who would just ignore the elf asking to help to navigate in these lands, we can put them in a situation, like they were ambushed by goblins.
So they got out of it, but were off the road. Had to team up to find the way back, and it took them some time, which was unfortunate for Thorin who was holding serious grudges on elven kind. When they finally found the right ways, they just separated without a word.
I thought that it would be even funnier if that elf was very similar to Thorin in appearance and personality. And Thorin experienced some uncanny valley affect. Of course he wouldn't like to talk about it.
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29. How do you think they would be as a parent? (and if they are a parent, how do you think they would be if they weren't?)
Why is the question in brackets so funny? Like, yes, apparently the character is a parent canonically, but what if we reimagine this? Why? xD
I think he was already used to caring for babies when Kili was born, and was good enough parental figure until Fili and Kili became older and he had to become distant.
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I am not always up to Parentshield, but he would be good with small Frodo, better than Bilbo. Like in Ruto's comic, I like how Bilbo is portrayed there, annoyed and confused, but Thorin is collected enough. Bilbo is good with teen Frodo though.
30. The funniest scene they had?
There are so many. Seems even more than with Bilbo, to me at least. He is like an epic tragic hero on the screen, but people notice some goofy stuff. I will put the links to posts I like:
This moment when dwarves were captured by trolls.
Whatever this was.
Cursing while being jailed in Mirkwood.
And I love this bit from the book too much...
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sillylotrpolls · 1 month
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(Relevant reading below poll.)
This poll is one of my favorites, because I love every possible option. When it previously ran, voters determined Legolas had dyscalculia. I'm eager to see if that result holds up in this "extended edition," or if tumblr will find itself swayed in a new direction.
Excerpted from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Chapter 7: Helm's Deep and Chapter 8: The Road to Isengard
'Two!' said Gimli, patting his axe. He had returned to his place on the wall. 'Two?' said Legolas. 'I have done better, though now I must grope for spent arrows; all mine are gone. Yet I make my tale twenty at the least. But that is only a few leaves in a forest.'
(Rest of the relevant text below the cut.)
...
'Twenty-one!' cried Gimli. He hewed a two-handed stroke and laid the last Orc before his feet. 'Now my count passes Master Legolas again.' 'We must stop this rat-hole,' said Gamling. 'Dwarves are said to be cunning folk with stone. Lend us your aid, master!' 'We do not shape stone with battle-axes, nor with our finger-nails,' said Gimli. 'But I will help as I may.' They gathered such small boulders and broken stones as they could find to hand, and under Gimli's direction the Westfold-men blocked up the inner end of the culvert, until only a narrow outlet remained. Then the Deeping-stream, swollen by the rain, churned and fretted in its choked path, and spread slowly in cold pools from cliff to cliff. 'It will be drier above,' said Gimli. 'Come, Gamling, let us see how things go on the wall!' He climbed up and found Legolas beside Aragorn and Éomer. The elf was whetting his long knife. There was for a while a lull in the assault, since the attempt to break in through the culvert had been foiled. 'Twenty-one!' said Gimli. 'Good!' said Legolas. 'But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-work up here.'
...
'Things go ill, my friends,' he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm. 'Ill enough,' said Legolas, 'but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us. Where is Gimli?' 'I do not know.' said Aragorn. 'I last saw him fighting on the ground behind the wall, but the enemy swept us apart.' 'Alas! That is evil news,' said Legolas. 'He is stout and strong,' said Aragorn. 'Let us hope that he will escape back to the caves. There he would be safe for a while. Safer than we. Such a refuge would be to the liking of a dwarf.' 'That must be my hope'' said Legolas. 'But I wish that he had come this way. I desired to tell Master Gimli that my tale is now thirty-nine.' 'If he wins back to the caves, he will pass your count again,' laughed Aragorn. 'Never did I see an axe so wielded.' 'I must go and seek some arrows,' said Legolas. 'Would that this night would end, and I could have better light for shooting.'
...
Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Éomer son of Éomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong. 'Forty-two, Master Legolas!' he cried. 'Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?' 'You have passed my score by one,' answered Legolas. 'But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!'
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howtofightwrite · 1 year
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Sorry if you’ve already answered this, I’m having trouble finding different posts in your blog.
I know a lot of your asks are more practical-related, but how do you suggest fully encapsulating the horror and tragedy of war in a (fantasy) battle scene? I really need that emotional and gory impact but it also to seem reasonably realistic.
My favourite references are Battle of the Bastards in GoT and scenes from Lord of the Rings.
Thanks!!
Martin and Tolkien are not two authors I’d ever expect to find together when discussing thematic and abstract concepts like the horrors of war in their writing. One of them is extremely deep, and the other is a puddle. Neither of them are particularly “realistic” but only one of them claims that pretense while drawing from real history. If you’re wanting horrors of war, you’re much better off moving away from Martin and taking a gander at the actual War of the Roses.
Let me explain.
Tolkien served as an officer during World War I. By sheer body count, The Great War was one of the most bloody and brutal wars in human history. As a point of reference, over a million soldiers died during the Battle of Somme. Perhaps as importantly, World War I killed the cultural concept of the Summer War. Before World War I, the British upper class viewed war as a game. War was an adventure, something young men did between reaching manhood and getting married. Watson from Sherlock Holmes is an excellent example of the end result for this particular outlook. They figured they’d go off, have some jolly good fun, get a few scars, and be back in a few weeks in time for tea. What they got was a meat grinder. Two of Tolkien’s close friends died during the war. He also lived through the bombings during World War II while working as a professor at Oxford, he experienced the devastating effects that war had on the civilian population first hand, and, likely, saw a few of his students die. Despite his hatred of allegory, the man was working through some shit in The Lord of the Rings.
If you’re interested in learning more about World War I or even about effectively demonstrating the horrors of war, I do recommend reading All Quiet on the Western Front. I read it once in high school (more years ago than I’d like to admit here) and, much like Elie Wiesel, it has stuck with me. It was also such an effective anti-war novel the Nazis banned it and it was one of the first books they publicly burnt, so you know it’s good.
Back to Tolkien.
What they don’t tell you about fantasy is that it’s real life, just with elves and dwarves and magic. The real world forms the foundation of fantasy and it’s the humanity of the emotional experience in war, the good and the bad, with both ends cranked all the way to eleven that really makes Tolkien’s work so impactful. LOTR is operatic by design, but what keeps the narrative from falling into melodrama is the core thematic message underneath the pageantry. One of the major themes is hope, which gets symbolized in light, and hope’s interplay with despair, symbolized in darkness. Not just a rosy view of it either, but the genuine struggle to keep the light burning against all the overwhelming reasons to give up or give in. Tolkien allows his characters to be corrupted and redeemed, their struggle with temptation before ultimately choosing the better path or failing and falling into darkness. He commits to the idea that hope can be restored in the unlikeliest of places.
Boromir’s death is, perhaps, one of the best examples of Tolkien’s philosophy in action. Boromir is a character we’re not sure of, he wants the one ring from the outset, he’s the only one advocating that it shouldn’t be destroyed. The hearts of men are easily corrupted. When he tries to take the ring from Frodo, he falls into his worst instincts and breaks the Fellowship. But then, against the overwhelming flood of Uruk-hai, Boromir tries to save Merry and Pippin. He fights wounded, shot again, and again, until he’s felled by twenty arrows and he fails. Yet, in his failure he restores Aragorn’s hope in his people, gives him a reason to fight for Gondor, and inspires the audience to believe in Man’s potential for greatness.
Tolkien could have left Boromir in the dark, but he didn’t. He could’ve given into cynicism, but he didn’t. In every adaptation, Boromir’s death never fails to get me bawling. Boromir is both good and bad, both dark and light, his best and worst instincts are driven by the same underlying, sympathetic reason—his desire to save his people and fulfill his duty to his father.
On the whole, I find Tolkien’s presentation of the human condition and war to be more compelling and realistic than Martin’s. Tolkien’s underlying themes have more in common with All Quiet on the Western Front, Saving Private Ryan, and HBO’s Band of Brothers. For all that his characters often feel larger than life (by design, he’s telling an epic) there’s always a grounding quality that allows the audience to connect with them. Whether we agree with Tolkien’s core thematic message or not, Tolkien genuinely has something to say about warfare and its effect, both on personal and world changing levels, and he communicates that message very well.
The irony about the “horrors of war” isn’t about the horrors of war. Thematically, the “horrors of war” is about who we choose to become in the face of them when trapped in the crucible. Do we rise to our best selves? Do we fall to our worst? When every illusion about who we believe we are is stripped away, what’s left? It’s an existential question, not a “realistic” one.
You can’t write about the horrors of war in fiction if you have nothing to say about war, humanity, and its effects. All you’ll end up with is gore for shock value. The world becomes hopelessly depressing, and, in the end, all the blood turns brown before it’s finally shat out.
Hi, Martin.
Don’t get me wrong, Martin is a very skilled writer. His prose is genuinely beautiful and his first book in ASOF, A Game of Thrones is actually a pretty decent deconstruction in the traditional fantasy narrative and a fairly realistic treatment of how events would go for the standard well-meaning fantasy protagonist. And that’s… the deepest we get.
Martin comes out of the 24/Joss Whedon death for shock value school of writing and the land of Iron Age comics that doesn’t have anything to really say beyond, “people suck.” Underneath it all is a level of cynicism in the human condition that would make Garth Ennis blush. The deaths are just shock value. There’s nothing more to it than that. Once you’ve acclimated to the gore, there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else to think about. Ironically, out of his contemporaries, Robert Jordan is better at giving both war and death in his narrative lasting effect, driving character growth, and real meaning.
Martin and Tolkien are opposite ends of the spectrum in their approach to war and their outlooks are utterly incompatible. One of them is a complete cynic and the other is facing himself honestly, openly, fearlessly, and without a smidgen of irony. (The true irony here is that the latter is the Englishman.) Following Martin’s blueprint won’t bring you to a Tolkien outcome. Tolkien’s genuine emotion is the subject of mockery in Martin’s world. Season 8 may’ve been clumsy and infuriating, but it was the natural end of Comic Book Iron Age cynicism. There are no good people, people with power can never be trusted, and all heroes, no matter how noble, reveal their true colors as villains in the end. As Christopher Nolan said, “You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” This philosophical outlook may be sold as realistic but it’s really just Political Both Sidesism, Fantasy Edition.
The irony is that the real history Martin draws from, The War of the Roses, is simultaneously crueler, kinder, more noble, more horrific, more impactful, and ultimately more hopeful than Martin’s own work. And this was post the Hundred Years War and all the wars that preceded it.
I bring you, the Duality of Man.
If you want to write a realistic battle scene, start with real war. If you want to write about the horrors of war, start with real war. Pick a war, any war, and dig in. Reading the experiences of others is a way to gain insight into experiences you yourself don’t share and start to process the different philosophies born out of those experiences. The horror of war is a human one.
The most important lesson is that you won’t get there by focusing on the battle itself. To truly feel the impact, every character needs to be carefully built from the very beginning with a through line to every horrific event that happens to them. If you want to learn how to do that, then you need to go study every single war movie from good to bad (including the jingoistic rah-rah ones) like Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Battle for Iwo Jima, etc, to really start internalizing the underlying storytelling structure and character design formula that makes those films tick. There’s no one better at portraying the horror and humanity of war than the war film industry. Part of what makes the best of these films really good is their willingness to allow their characters to be emotional and vulnerable. Which you won’t find in a lot of fantasy novels that run on machismo, but is the secret sauce that gives Tolkien his impact.
Having the confidence to allow your characters to struggle, be vulnerable, experience humiliating circumstances, and appear weak is an aspect of writing that a lot of men and women struggle with. Cynicism is a form of self-protection to keep those emotions away, to keep one from being emotionally invested, and is a means by which we protect ourselves from being hurt. We may portray cynicism as the more realistic reality but it’s just a cloak we hide behind. Martin’s approach to warfare is less realistic than Tolkien’s. Tolkien’s characters approach warfare with an eye toward protecting their civilians, safeguarding their future, or, in the case of his villains, focus on genocide. War for Tolkien is the eradication of civilization and the destruction of the future. Characters from experienced combatants to innocent civilians are willing to risk their lives for a world and for the people who matter to them. Martin has the Summer War. It’s there in the title, A Game of Thrones. An entertaining charade of musical chairs. And while all of his characters are chasing power, almost none of them have any sort of vision or goal for the future beyond the accumulation of more. In Martin’s world, the only way to truly win is not to play, but in the real world playing is the only way to create the world you want. Cynicism ends with no seats at the table and no means to change or save anything.
It’s funny because England during the War of the Roses had been in a state of near constant warfare for hundreds of years with their own domestic powers and France prior to the War of the Roses kicking off. The concept of a Summer War didn’t really exist for the medieval nobility. Much as we joke today about war being a game for medieval nobles due to their ransom protections, it really wasn’t. The peasantry was also much, much more dangerous en masse than they are in ASOF. They drove traveling monarchs to hide in monasteries plenty of times and, while that’s funny, it’s not actually a joke.
Now, picture Joffrey dragged off his horse in the middle of a riot and having his skull crushed by a local fishwife right before being trampled into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp by sharp hooves.
Or enjoying the Agincourt bathing route.
You’re welcome.
-Michi
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carlandrea · 1 year
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Why Legolas Greenleaf was Chosen for the Fellowship of the Ring
First, Why Not Glorfindel, (with Glorfindel standing in for, in general, any ancient heroes who might be hanging around Rivendell)
This is a stealth mission. The first priority should not be Heroics, which, if anything goes well, should not be necessary. It would have been useful to have Glorfindel when they encountered, for example, the Balrog, but ideally, they would not have encountered a balrog
So then, if you're not expecting to use Heroics, than having someone that much more powerful than the rest of the party is actually a massive liability. If Legolas fell victim to the ring, then Aragorn and Boromir could take him out. If Glorfindel was sent on the mission and tried to take the ring, then everyone else is kind of just fucked. He's Glorfindel. It's the same reason none of the people Frodo offers the ring to takes it. (Gandalf is mildly a complication for this point but like Gandalf just really needs to be here. We need Gandalf.)
Could Gandalf fight Glorfindel? idk. I feel like a redditor just asking the question. it wouldn't be good for anyone if he did, that's for fucking sure
Why Legolas Specifically
He's good at stealth. He's a good scout. He's cheerful and not prone to despair. He's a good fit for this kind of mission
As a Mirkwood elf, he does not have the same vested personal interest in the Three surviving that a Rivendell or Lothlorien elf might have. He is not going on a specific quest to destroy his own home, which would be the kind of thing the Ring would love to latch on to.
Also, as a Silvan elf, his people mildly have a much better track record with the cursed shinies than like. the high elves. the wise. et fucking cetera (I am not open to corrections as to whether Legolas is a silvan elf <3)
But also—specifically—Legolas is someone who is very used to creeping dread and despair, and he's still Like That. He's still Legolas. He's still weird and cheerful and excited about trees. My first point is that he's not prone to despair, and I just want to stress that he has been under this kind of pressure—under the creeping shadow—for his entire life.
he's not tired in the way that so many elves are
Also—
I made another short post about this, and I got this response:
#personally I've always thought it's because #he's actually from one of the places right now #where Men Dwarves and Elves all talk to each other#whereas an elf from Rivendell or Loth Lorien may be very wise and learn'd in what you need to know to be considered learn'd #but have they spoken to someone who isn't of their kin in the last thousand years? #have they experience traveling paths unknown to them and finding their way? #can they hear an insult and try to reach through cultural differences? #would they be able to walk into a texmex restuarant for the first time and go 'oh it's spelled t-a-c-o gotcha CHOMP mmm' #(I suspect not)
(tags by @fairy-anon-godmother)
Which I really agree with!!
In Conclusion:
My boy was perfect for this quest :) He's cheerful, he's young, and he's exactly what the fellowship needs in their elf
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tanoraqui · 1 year
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key elements of Crownless (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my head and heart) season 1:
(Note that I will play a little fast and loose with timelines and for the sake of a better story. And/or take ruthless advantage of canonical slow Dúnedain aging to spread the timeline out over several decades)
First episode(s) is Aragorn (age 21, functionally late teens) leaving Rivendell to start wandering the wilds with the Rangers. I would do Elrond & his people dirty and say that Aragorn has been kinda sheltered growing up, a little because Elves tend to baby Men, especially young Men, and mostly because everyone wanted to be sure Isildur’s heir was safe as darkness grew in the world, especially after his father was killed when he was 2.
So Aragorn starts with significant book smarts, homely peace smarts—historical knowledge, animal friendship, herblore, diplomacy skills, technical sword/knife/bow skills…but he doesn’t know the dirty fighting tricks that win a fight. His tracking, hunting, forest stealth, etc. skills…suck at first. He’s prone to freeze in urgent healing (or combat) situations, because he’s never done this on his own before—though he has a natural talent for the ‘calling people back from death’ thing we see in LotR.
(This gives Aragorn obvious skills to pick up that demonstrate his character growth as a leader, while also establishing from the start that his real talent in kingship is, always was, diplomacy, strength of character & connection with his people, literal and metaphorical healing. Also, weirdass plans, often based on things he read, with success resting on luck/prayer/hope more than any reasonable thing…including a willingness to trust strange new and/or sketchy people…and they work.)
Maybe eps 1-2 is a double-length episode: opens with newly widowed Gilraen arriving in distress with a toddler 18 years ago, then first half is mostly restless late teen!Estel in Rivendell, ending with Elrond revealing his true name, broken sword, time to go forth… Smash cut to Aragorn tripping in the forest and falling in a stream while 2 other baby Rangers laugh at him and whoever’s stuck training these new recruits sighs heavily. There’s a lot of “this is the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Isildur’s heir?”
Format: 22ep 44min monster of the week (like GOD INTENDED) focused on the newest young Rangers: Aragorn, Halbarad, Dúnawen (OC: “maiden of the west”, don’t @ me for naming), as they range throughout Eriador learning how to be badasses guarding the boundaries of civilization. Monsters include orcs, wargs, mortal bandits, trolls, giant spiders, a small ice wyvern that made its way to northern Dale, barrow-wrights, unhoused fëa, rival clans of Men or maybe Dwarves who are about to go to blood feud war…
…and a slowly mounting season plot of the trouble of 3 Nazgúl reoccupying Dol Goldur, after the White Council forced the “Necromancer” out 15ish years ago. (Riling up ghosts throughout the countryside? Something something themes of moving on from the past. Also, can’t go wrong with an episode in which heroes must confront their literal personal ghosts.)
Repeat cameos from Elrohir & Elladan, cousins of all Mannish Dúnedain (and kind of older brothers to Aragorn in particular.) Are they helping him? Are they harder on him than on the other new recruits? Are they good cop/bad cop-ing it?
Arwen! Meet briefly ep1 and/or she’s a key feature of midseason finale; return in season finale to be badass. “Tinúviel! Tinúviel!” scene in Lothlórien casts a hiccup in a fledgling romance between Aragorn and Dúnawen
All combinations of Aragorn/Halbarad/Dunawen ARE welcome, nay, encouraged. They’re functionally in college and they’re all hot, and constantly in near-death situations. I advise the writers to have fun. Bisexuality is free.
Gandalf introduction early, ep2? Probably also in finale (something of a large team-up).
Late season bottle episode, maybe just before a 2-parter finale, in which due to a thunderstorm/mudslide/cave-in incident, Aragorn, Halbarad and Dunawen are trapped in a cave/small series of caves with a random assortment of other travelers on the road west of Bree: a pair of Dwarvish merchants, a few men, 1 elf (journeying to the Havens to Sail?), and 1 hobbit, Mr. Drogo Baggins of Hobbiton, who was making a perilous journey to Bree and back in order to fetch his beloved, very pregnant wife a particular kind of cheese she was craving. No loss of air threat, but they’re stuck. Obviously getting Drogo home is of utmost importance (and everyone else needs to get home safe, too). Tempers run high! Only once the Junior Rangers sort out their late-season interpersonal drama can Aragorn rise to the occasion and organize/mediate this microcosm of Middle Earth’s populace to dig their way out of this cave.
Aragorn is exceptionally good at facing down Nazgúl and their weaponized despair because he has—indeed, he is, by name!—hope. This show is about hope first and teamwork second, and looking badass in a beautiful landscape while Howard Shore music swells third.
[s2 in notes]
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finnofamerica · 10 months
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Insatiable - Dwalin X Reader X Thorin | Smut
Summary: In an effort to break up the monotony of your and Dwalin's sex life, the two of you agree to bring in a third for a night. Who is better than Dwalin's best friend?
Word Count: 1,976
Date Posted: 05.28.2023
TW: AFAB Language used, threesome, double penetration, mentions of somnophilia, anal, spitroast, oral, bondage (cuffs), Blindfolds.
Note: This is a D/s fic. Remember that kink is customizable, and there is no right way to do it as long as you’re keeping safe. We play here by Safe, Sane, and Consensual, but there is also Risk Aware Consensual Kink and Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink. Don’t yuck anyone’s yum; I am willing to answer any questions that I can.
🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞
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You were sure that everyone in Erebor knew of your husband’s appetite. His hunger was rivaled only by Bombur, though Dwalin worked it off in his battle training with the Kingsguard. When you were making the rounds with your deliveries, you loved to sit and watch all the handsome dwarves train. Your eyes always find their way back to your handsome husband. Though your absolute favorite days what Thorin and Dwalin’s “private” trainings, spectators including Thorin’s nephews and yourself. While you harbored no feelings for Thorin beyond the fondness of a good friend, you’d have to be blind not to be attracted to him. The two of them were often shirtless during their training sessions, and you had the opportunity to ogle the muscles on them both.  
You knew your husband bragged about you to his friends. You’d have to be deaf not to hear it because the man was neither subtle nor discreet. You knew he’d brag about having a woman who bakes because “The sweeter she eats, the sweeter she tastes.” You didn’t mind this, though it caused women to look at you with envy and most of the men to do the same with Dwalin. His bragging had turned your cunt into some mystical rumor that you were sure would be passed down through the ages until the rumor became legend. 
“Dwalin,” You rubbed the man’s shoulders after a long day of training. It was almost an act of worship the way that you knew he protected you. “I would like to try something different.” 
“Different, how?”
“Well, husband, it’s not that I’m disappointed with our lovemaking, it’s just that I’ve come to know what to expect, and we keep repeating the same patterns. I just think it would be nice to switch it up every now and again.” 
“Like adding another? I’ve seen the way that you eye Thorin during our training. I don’t think he’s enjoyed the love of a woman in many years, long before Smaug.” Dwalin suggested. 
“You know I don’t feel for Thorin.” 
“All the better. I won’t have to worry about his kingly ass stealing you from me. Would you like to invite Thorin in some time?”
From then on, Dwalin had his lips sealed. None of your efforts to coax the information out of him worked. He refused to tell you when Thorin would be joining your bedroom affairs. Nearly a full season had passed since the night you suggested bringing it up, and you worried that Dwalin had forgotten. 
The chill of winter soaked deep into the mountain that hardly even the forge furnaces could fight. The well-crafted living quarters were nice and toasty, and their fireplaces were well-stocked with wood from Tranduil’s domain. The fires burnt with the smell of nutmeg and allspice, hailing in the holidays when families gathered and feasted on slow-roasted boar. 
You dressed in one of your favorite outfits, heading down to the bakery where you worked alongside dwarven masters. They were initially unsure of a hobbit in their kitchens, but after a heaping batch of your lemon poppyseed scones, they changed their minds and welcomed you heartily. Given the holiday season, the kitchens were plenty busy preparing for the King’s Yuleblot ball. The bakers, the tailors, and all the chefs were quite busy preparing all the orders as Balin and Fili ran around making sure their shipments from across middle earth were in order. 
When Bunty, the head baker, came in with a cupcake just for you, you realized it was your birthday. You’d been so busy that you’d forgotten. Dwalin had forgotten. He’d never forgotten your birthday in all the years you’d been together. Normally he’d wake you up with his tongue; this morning, you’d woken up alone.
Dejected and beaten by a long day of baking, you’d managed to drag yourself back to your and Dwalin’s shared living space. You swung the heavy door open; Dwalin stood there naked as the day he was born. His impressive cock hung heavy between his thighs. 
“Dwalin!” You squealed, covering your eyes as your face heated. “Oh, stop this shying. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Dwalin spun you around, landing a swift slap to your ass.  He leaned down, relaxing you with his lips against your neck, kissing and biting along the way. “Strip and lay on the bed.” 
You didn’t have to be told twice to obey your husband’s direction. It was your honor to serve him as long as he continued to spoil you with his loving caress. He treated you like you were his goddess, regularly bringing you gifts and telling anyone and every one of your beauty. Dwalin kissed every inch of your naked body as he locked you in cuffs expertly crafted just for you. A gift for your anniversary.
You’d always heard of dwarves’ insatiable appetite. You hadn’t expected their sexual appetite to be just as insatiable. You could almost swear that you’d been in this room for days, locked in these special dwarven cuffs lined with fur. Dwalin spent his sweet time driving your anticipation through the roof, teasing you relentlessly with all the tools in his arsenal.
You whined, arching your back as a warm tongue and cool breath licked along your pussy. The light grazes of his beard scratching delightfully against your thighs. One wide calloused palm pushed against your lower stomach, increasing the sensation of the fingers stroking inside of you. Your lover knew every inch of your body but still took his time exploring every nook and cranny. 
A hand gently caressed your cheek, turning your face to the edge of the bed. 
“Come on, Darling, open up,” Dwalin coaxed you, making it abundantly clear that it was not your husband eating you out. You let your mouth fall open with a light moan. The fact that Dawlin was sharing you was even hotter than when he’d mentioned wanting to try it one day.  
The tip of his thick cock touched your lips, glossing salty precum over them. Slowly he fucked your mouth, warming you up as he edged closer and closer to the back of your throat. 
“Fuck, you feel good,” Dwalin moaned, making whoever was between your legs chuckle. The vibration around your clit made you whine, arching further against his lips, hoping to increase your pleasure. 
“And tastes good, too,” The dwarf between your legs remarked, sounding pleased. His voice was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place it. You were too overcome with pleasure to care right now. You moaned around Dwalin’s cock; the overwhelming urge to please both men filled you. 
“Indeed,” Dwalin grunted, “Always happy to be used for her husband’s pleasure.” 
They were talking about you like you weren’t in the room, and you could practically feel yourself drip around the mystery dwarf’s fingers. 
“Such a greedy little cunt. May I fuck her, Dwalin?” 
“Aye, though you may never want any other pussy after.” 
The man between your legs slowly removed his fingers, noisily slurping up your juices. You heard the rustling of clothing being removed and thick, calloused hands adjusting your chained-up legs, so he could fit himself between them. His thick cock stretched you out as he slowly slid himself inside, making you gasp around the cock burying itself in your throat. 
Once the mystery man was fully seated inside you, he slowly pulled out until just his tip was still inside you, only to slam himself back into you. You squealed at the ferocity of it. He was fucking you like a man starved of this affection. Every stroke hits your G-spot, creating that familiar tightening sensation in your core. 
“That’s it, Amralimé,” Dwalin removed his saliva-coated cock from your mouth, allowing you to moan freely, volume increasing threefold. Lips attached themselves to your nipple, both the mystery man and Dwalin focusing their attention on your pleasure. “Are you gonna cum on his cock?” 
“Yes,” You whined, back arching, trying everything you could to increase your pleasure. “Please, may I?” 
“You may cum for your King.” 
Thorin?! It was clear to you now who the voice belonged to, and you wondered why you hadn’t placed it sooner. There was no one that Dwalin would trust with his wife other than his best friend. Your pussy quivered before releasing an explosion of pleasure through you. 
“That’s a good girl,” Thorin cooed in your ear as you clenched around him, hips twitching. You panted, collapsing back against the bed. 
“Oh, we’re not done with you yet,” Dwalin threatened you with a good time, the clinking of the cuffs being released from around your ankles. The two men gently flipped you over so you were on all fours. 
“You were right,” Thorin remarked, “I think this lady has ruined a world of pussy for me.” 
“Take her ass, Thorin. You’ll never know anything tighter.” 
Dwalin settled himself beneath you, easily supporting your weight as Thorin eased himself into your tight ass. It hurt, at first, a lot. Your tears were being absorbed by your silken blindfold. The whole time Dwalin comforted you through the pain, telling you what a good job you were doing and how good a girl you were being. 
After a beat, the pain eased as your tight ass got used to being stretched out around such a thick cock. Thorin slowly began to thrust his cock in and out of your ass as Dwalin lined himself up with the entrance of your pussy, using Thorin’s tempo to ease himself inside. The feeling of two cocks inside you was damn near overwhelming. It was otherwordly. It had you flying so high into blissful pleasure that you never wanted to come down. 
“Fuck, she’s tight,” Thorin groaned, thrusts growing uneven. Each of their mismatched thrusts made you moan and squeal. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, accompanied by whimpering moans and grunts. “And I might’ve thought you were wrong for marrying a hobbit.” 
“I told you she felt better than any dwarven lass you’d find.” Dwalin had been bragging about his wife from the moment he’d met you. He knew that you were the one for him, and your sweet pussy was just a bonus. 
The playful ribbing was lost on your ears. You could swear that you ascended to the next world. The two made fine use of your holes, surely reaching ascension themselves.
“Fuck, I’m gonna breed her sweet ass,” Thorin grunted, trying his best to maintain a steady pace. He didn’t want to blow his load too soon. Besides, he knew better than to breed another man’s woman without permission. 
“Aye, have her ass. She’ll not be pregnant by you either way.” 
Thorin’s hips stuttered as he gripped yours, burying himself deep within your ass. You could feel his cock twitch as he spilled his load. Dwalin followed suit, moaning your name as he filled you with his seed. It was any wonder how he’d not gotten you pregnant by now. 
They both slowly eased themselves out of you, and unable to support yourself any longer, you collapsed on your husband’s chest. He pulled down your blindfold, allowing you to gaze upon his gruff, handsome face. Dwalin unlocked your cuffs, kissing both of your wrists and holding you tightly, while Thorin when to warm a wet rag and clean up the semen that was dripping out of you. 
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you chose Thorin.” You remarked sleepily, exhaustion now seeping through your over-expended body. Thorin gently pressed the rag to your pussy, then your anus, the heat easing the dull ache the men had left behind. 
“Well, someone needed to get him laid,” Dwalin chuckled heartily. 
“Happy birthday, Miss Y/n.” Thorin finished dressing, leaving Dwalin to tend to you for the rest of the night. 
“Happy Birthday, Amralimé”
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Tags: OPEN
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cilil · 3 months
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AO3 recommendations overview
A good chunk of the recommendations I received - thanks again to all those who sent me something! - were from AO3 and I couldn't always find a corresponding Tumblr post to reblog so I decided to make a list for convenience (an attempt at sorting has also been made). Please go show some love, enjoy and happy holidays/happy new year!
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₊˚⊹ Ainur
♡ Back In Evernow by @the-red-butterfly (Melkor & Manwë, Gen)
♡ Feathers and Friends by @elennalore (Manwë & Ulmo & Maglor, Gen)
♡ Whenever our paths cross by @thedaughterofshadows (Tilion, Arien & Ilmarë, Gen)
♡ Go Get Him by @glorf1ndel (Eönwë x Arafinwë, T, WoW)
♡ To be Made of Fire by @hirazuki (Mairon & Arien, Gen)
♡ Worth While by @hirazuki (Mairon & Eönwë, T, WoW)
♡ Redeeming graces cast aside by @mirkwood-hr-department (Melkor & Nienna, T, canon divergence)
♡ No Sooner Looked by @verecunda (Melkor x Mairon, Eönwë, T)
♡ When Your Walls Fall by @curufiin (Melkor x Mairon, T, canon divergence)
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₊˚⊹ Elves
♡ So do our Minutes Hasten to their End by @maglor-my-beloved (Caranthir x Haleth, Erestor, T)
♡ Anywhere With you by @last-capy-hupping (Maedhros x Fingon, past Melkor x Maedhros, E, modern AU, heed warnings)
♡ What Happens at Camp Eglarest, Stays at Camp Eglarest by @polutrope (Daeron x Maglor, T, modern AU)
♡ of a harsh and caustic nature (the root of hope) by @oopsbirdficced (Caranthir x Finrod, T, soulmate AU)
♡ A Compass Pointing North by @elentarial (Celegorm x multiple, E, modern AU (cam work))
♡ Pour Out A Drink For Me by @nothinghereisworking (Caranthir x Haleth, T)
♡ Star Anise by @maglor-my-beloved (Fëanor & Nerdanel & their children, Gen)
♡ Bureaucratic outcomes & oversights by @sortumavaara (Glorfindel x Erestor, M)
♡ Snow white and the hunts(wo)men by @goschatewabn (Celegorm x Oromë, M, ABO)
♡ Laws and Customers by @z-h-i-e (Glorfindel x Erestor, little Arwen, Gen)
♡ glade-song by @welcomingdisaster (Galadriel x Melian, M)
♡ Slow Flights by @searchingforserendipity25 (Maedhros & Irmo, Gen, coming back to life)
♡ The Seven Trials of Fingon the Valiant by @melestasflight and @polutrope (Fingon, various pairings, T)
♡ My Bones Divide and Shake by @sallysavestheday (Celegorm & Oromë, Gen)
♡ Nothing gold can stay by @mirkwood-hr-department (Thranduil x Glorfindel, E, long fic)
♡ Something in the Darkness by @hirazuki (Eöl x Aredhel, M)
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₊˚⊹ Dwarves & Hobbits
♡ You Should Be Safe With Me by @fantasyinallforms (Bilbo x Thorin, E, canon divergent verse)
♡ And I’ll say I love you, and I’ll say that I do by @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book (Bilbo x Thorin, Gen, modern AU)
♡ Flowers that Never Die by @frosticenow (Bilbo x Thorin, T, pre-canon)
♡ Fuck Thy Neighbor by @lordoftherazzles (Bilbo x Thorin, E, modern AU, accidental marriage)
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₊˚⊹ For Orc lovers
♡ Scars of Silver and Gold by @niennawept (Adar x OFC, E, ROP verse)
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₊˚⊹ Old/older favorites that helped me through difficult times back in the day:
♡ Catechesis by @lvsifer (Melkor x Mairon, E, pope AU my beloved)
♡ the path of ecstasy by @bodhvild (Melkor x Mairon, E, heed warnings)
♡ In Utumno's Deeps by @foxindarkness (Melkor x Mairon, E, heed warnings)
♡ distractions by @tarmairons (Melkor x Mairon, baby dragons, unrated)
♡ Just This Once by @crackinthecup (Melkor x Mairon, E)
♡ ... and I burn for you by @echoesoftheforest (Melkor x Mairon, E)
♡ Desire by @dragonofmordor (Melkor x Mairon, E)
♡ Sacrament by @mayakoroz (Melkor x Mairon, E)
I was a lurker back then and too shy to comment or make myself known, but I saved links to my favorite works and never forgot about them. Better late than never.
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₊˚⊹ Gifts for yours truly
♡ His Malicious Majesty by @i-did-not-mean-to (Mairon, various pairings, M)
♡ Where there's smoke, there's a fire by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon x Gothmog, E, modern AU)
♡ Dog eat dog or something like that by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, puppy, gen)
♡ Aber bitte mit Sahne... by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, Gothmog x Eönwë, E, coffeeshop AU)
♡ Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? by @i-did-not-mean-to (Melkor x Mairon, Gothmog x Eönwë, E, mafia AU)
♡ Reaching for the stars by @i-did-not-mean-to (Manwë x Varda x Yavanna, T)
♡ The adventures of Crablor by @goschatewabn (Crablor x Faramir, E, heed warnings)
♡ Broken traps by @ruiniel (Andreth & a wolf, T)
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₊˚⊹ Art collections (is this cheating? No idea - but this is my event and I loved these so let's put them in as a bonus)
♡ Kinktober by @sortumavaara (various, E)
♡ Kinktober by @elanna-elrondiel (various, E)
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In the Earliest Draft Fantasy Book I meant to write in the standard fantasy races with my own twist on them, though eventually I realised that the humans’ story was interesting enough on its own to not try to shoehorn whole different species and their own cultures into it. But one of the features it had was that only humans are actually sexually dimorphic. Elves are all androgynously slender, and though they’re beautiful, their beauty is uncanny and eerie - to human eyes, they almost resemble remarkably tall children. They’re not actually immortal, but simply retain many features that humans consider youthful and childlike into adulthood. Their lifespan is actually only slightly longer than that of modern humans, living into their 90s and sometimes past 100, but from the perspective of humans who make it to 70 if they’re lucky, an elvish lifespan is literally generations.
 I didn’t go much into dwarves, but their physical gender distinctions are very subtle, and there are vast cultural differences among dwarven people about how individuals express it. The details of gendered clothing are also too subtle for an untrained human eye to pick out - such as the shapes and designs of belt buckles, braiding of beards and angles of the cut of one’s boots - and in certain dwarven cultures, the idea does not exist at all. Their languages or dialects have no gendered pronouns, and asking an individual which role they play in reproduction is considered an extremely rude and invasive question.
Orcs do not have a concept of paternity, they have mating seasons during which young and childless orcs feel the urge to go wander into distant lands and the fact that they happen to meet other orcs of different clans and mate is considered an unimportant part of this rite of passage. Orc clans are matrilinear to whatever extent they care about bloodlines at all, and the fact that most clans tend to be matriarchal isn’t due to any idea that female orcs would somehow be better leaders - the females are simply slightly physically larger, and statistically more likely to gain the upper hand in the “who’s-calling-the-shots-around-here” brawls that establish who leads the clan.
The only detail in which this ever became relevant in the actual book draft was how they perceive the human habit of constantly being at war and seeking to expand their territory - the people of the other races can’t really tell human men and women apart very well, either, and come to the conclusion that every adult human woman that they see (having visible breasts) must be currently nursing. Of course they are constantly harking after new land to farm, if they're constantly reproducing.
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acefaun · 9 months
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Can you write a drabble about my King Under the Mountain, Lord Smaug? 🔥🔥You need more dragons on your page, mlady Faun 🐉
Smaug~ Treasure Hoarding
Synopsis: Accidentally coming across the lonely mountain in one of your escapades, you find your idol, Smaug, the King Under the Mountain. Making a deal with a dragon who hoards treasure would be beneficial for a little thief like you, wouldn’t it? 
🍃Masterlist🍃 Gender neutral MC!
A/n: I should never expect less from a dragon… Well, my liege, I hope you're impressed! You were a bit vague on the details… but I assumed you wanted something good and not an angsty piece about after his death… 😁 So, you get a dragon friend! …Or whatever Smaug is to you!
–Word Count: 2,359 –
The wind practically whistled beside your ear as the arrow brushed past your head. You should have used a little more caution when passing through the little fishing town, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Well, they weren’t shy in pursuing you well outside of their city, but they were certainly falling behind. You thought men on horses would have a better chance against someone on foot carrying bags of gold. To be fair, you had more than a few bags, but the rest of your collection was waiting for you beside the mountain just across the lake. As soon as these men left you alone, you wouldn’t squander your chance to get back there and add your recent findings. 
Lucky for you, those humans seemed to know when enough was enough and failed to follow you closer to the mountain. 
You jovially hummed to yourself, heading over to your hidden wagon, dripping with gold coins and various other treasures and jewels. Though, you knew your beloved treasure would get attention, so you decided it was time to find a good hiding place to settle down. Nothing, you thought, was better than a mountain where humans were wary to follow. Besides, if you were lucky, you’d find treasure already in there. All you’d have to do was fight off whoever owned the treasure. Then you’d have both treasure and a mountain to hide. Besides, this had to be one good mountain for a thief considering no one else dared approach.
Densely neglecting and disregarding the surrounding scenery, you excitedly entered the entrance of the mountain, a wide opening which looked like it should have had closed gates. Lucky for you, this seemed to be a mountain abandoned by dwarves. Giddy with excitement, you pulled your load of treasure behind you, traveling deep into the mountain. You’d only settle for the best hiding place for your collection. After all, you couldn’t have someone just happening across your belongings and mistaking them for unclaimed things; they were yours. 
However, it seemed the deeper you went, the heavier the air became. It was as if some magic hung over this place… Ah well, that was none of your concern. If there was a foreboding presence, then there was no doubt your treasure would be safe from intruders.
Standing in the door to another hall, you paused, your eyes glittering. With the lone bag on your back, you abandoned your cart in the hall, sprinting for the large doors before you. Your wide eyes scanned the room you found yourself in, flickering to and fro across the sea of gold. You’d have missed it before had it not been illuminating the entire area with a sheen of golden light. 
This was perfect. If those humans didn’t dare enter and find this trove then how could they dare to follow you and find yours? Feeling cocky and certain of yourself, you left your wagon at the door, carrying with you a few bags of gold, the start of your collection if you were to find a good hiding place. You didn’t want to just dump it in with the rest of this collection, you’d never be able to sort yours from the ones already here. Besides, you were prideful and wanted to keep track of how much treasure you personally collected before happening across this magnificent trove of sparkling wonders. 
The path was tricky and you, too many times, slipped upon the piles of gold. It was more difficult than walking upon sand dunes; these coins would like to devour you whole. Though, you thought you were having a fairly easy time of it, until the ground beneath you shifted. 
Frantically, you clawed at the mountain of coin to gain proper footing, but it was all in vain. Tumbling down, down, and further down the clattering gold, you were nearly buried under the tumbling coins. It was all you could do to keep your head above them, scrambling to free yourself. You suppose people weren’t exaggerating when they said too much gold could kill a person. You hadn’t taken it literally before now as you dug your way free from your shimmering prison. 
Feeling a puff of air blow your hair into your face, you froze in place, realizing just why no one had pursued you. This mountain… was the lonely mountain. You were in Erebor. And this dragon that gazed down upon you as if you were a mouse was none other than Smaug, the King under the mountain.
You should have been terrified, you should have feared death, but you could only kneel in awe of your idol from the stories. Once again, your eyes were glittering in delight, and this dragon seemed to sense that odd emotion coming off of you—it wasn’t fear. 
The great dragon hissed, “What mortal dares to enter the domain of the Great Smaug?” He meant to intimidate you, but you adored the intensity of his voice. He had astonishingly accomplished the complete opposite of what he intended.
“My Lord Smaug,” you praised him as though he were a god. “I should have realized sooner—an embarrassing mistake on my part that I shan't make again,” you promised vehemently. Despite your mortification at not recognizing the domain of this great King, you soon collected yourself as you continued to praise his magnificence, “The stories speak for themselves, your excellency! The ability to steal a trove of treasure but in a single moment…” You trailed off, ogling the great dragon. 
“And you dare threaten to steal from me?” Smaug tilted his head, regarding you with his sharp, serpentine eyes. “I will not part with a single coin; not one piece of it.”
“Of course not, my Lord!” You waved him down from a near tantrum, well aware of just how territorial dragons could be of their gold—you weren't all too different from him, after all. Eagerly, you presented your bag of treasure to him. “I… have a request, otherwise,” you timidly suggested. “I'm not here to steal, but rather… I'd like to strike a deal with a wise and powerful dragon. If you were to permit me, your excellence.”
Your heart raced as his head drew nearer to you. He was so much larger when he was hardly a foot away from you. But the sudden puffs of air that fluttered your hair made you quickly come to realize that he was sniffing you.
“This treasure is not of this mountain,” he huffed, pulling away and laying back atop his hoard. Luckily, you weren't perceived as a threat for the moment. “Speak, mortal.” 
“Well, then, my Lord, I just so happen to be a distinguished thief! Similar to you, my great excellency, I, myself, have accumulated a vast wealth of treasures over my time!” You proudly proclaimed your accomplishments, despite many of those treasures being lost. “Well… I've had the misfortune of never having a great place to safekeep them exactly… Until now! Great Smaug, with all your wisdom, would you allow me, a poor soul, to add my bountiful treasures to your hoard for your safekeeping?” 
It was quite agonizing for you, waiting for him to deliberate and contemplate. However, only after willingly displaying your wagon of treasure was a deal struck. You were a fortunate soul to be able to store your various treasures in the hoard. Of course, you had your own pile, separate from his on a ledge that hovered over the large trove. 
And day after day you would leave, sometimes you wouldn't return for days, but when you did return it was always with trinkets and treasures and gold to add to Smaug’s unnoticeably growing treasure hoard. 
However, your back and forth traveling only leads others to become interested in the abandoned, lonely mountain. After all, if someone like you could go in and come back out alive then surely the dragon had either fled or perished. So certain of their beliefs, they entered the mountain after their notorious thief, determined to get back their gold and steal from the limitless and bountiful riches within the depths of the mountain.
Unfortunately for them… You led them to exactly where they wanted to go, only to vanish the minute they lost themselves in the heaps and mountains of gold. 
“L- Look at all of this… We'll never have to work a day in our lives!”
“But that bastard thief… We can't have ‘em snatchin’ our gold. Where's that little rat?!”
“Here,” you announce, revealing your position atop a pile of gold, high above where they stood. You held a sword in your hands, but you weren't intending to use it. Your eyes narrowed, but the smile on your lips betrayed your glee. “You've made a mistake in coming here. This gold is not yours for the taking.”
“We're not here to ask for permission, thieving scum!”
“I can't pity a poor soul like you,” you solemnly replied, unconcerned with their approach. “Your excellency, these mortal men mean to steal from you.” 
The men froze at the foot of the gold lump, their eyes widening as the gold coin began cascading down like a waterfall. However, the more gold that fell, the more horror filled them. 
“That… That’s the dragon, that is!”
“Smaaaauug! We're gonna die!”
Their squeals didn't last long as blazing heat filled the room, burning the foolish men to a crisp. The sight enthralled you as you grinned, standing atop the head of your beloved King under the mountain. “We surely make a great team, my Lord.” You hummed in content, sitting down as you leaned against his horns. He too burrowed himself beneath the cool coin that surrounded him, relaxing atop his hoard. “You know,” you added thoughtfully, “I put a lot of my stuff in here and I really owe you for taking me in and protecting all of it. If there's anything you ever want, lemme know! Nothings off limits!” 
Though Smaug remained silent, his inaudible rumbling revealed his intrigue to your offer. Finally, he revealed his desire, “There is a golden ring that interests me… A golden ring of power. It is easy to recognize… Should you come across such an invaluable treasure as this, I should command that you bring it to me.”
“Yes, sir, my Lord! That ring is as good as yours if it ever crosses my path!” Your promises are always well kept, though he knew the chance of you coming across the ring was slim to none… He had to demand it. 
Well beyond that day, you continued to bring to him your trinkets and treats for months… years… centuries. Such a long, long time. Smaug would have otherwise not cared for the passage of time were it not for your coming and going, and his occasional leaving the mountain. 
Again sitting with you amongst the piles of gold, he commented, “You… are an odd human.”
You inclined your head curiously to regard his larger figure. “Human? My Lord, I'm half human.” 
His hums of intrigue vibrated the gold you sat upon as he mused aloud, “That explains the odd inhuman scent that follows you. An impressive little mortal.” Only being half human, it was no wonder you could accomplish the feats you did and bring back as many gifts as you have the past centuries. 
“I’m sure I smell profusely of dragon and gold at this point,” you couldn’t help but joke in response. But even if you did smell of nothing but dragon and gold, you were proud of it. You’d wear this scent like a badge of honor, proud to be the mortal companion of the great and powerful King under the mountain. “I’m glad to be with you, my King.”
You sat relaxed atop a gold hill, a reddish scaled tail trailed around you, peeking out from beneath the thousands of golden pieces. Beside you was a full view of your dragon friend amidst his hoard. You were determined to stay by his side and continue bringing him treasures until you found the ring he once mentioned. It was the only desire he’d ever named to you and you were determined to one day come across it and gift it to him.
Smaug, on the other hand, was content with you going and coming with your menial treasures as if you, yourself were a mouse-sized dragon with your own nest-sized hoard. You were oddly adorable, something he didn’t imagine he could feel about another living creature. Knowing what he knew… it was safe to say he was fond of his little half-human. 
His tail coiled further around you, not ensnaring you or trapping you, but comfortingly surrounding you, claiming you. “My precious little treasure…” His voice came out as a low rumble as he buried his head further in his pile of gold. 
You were convinced he was muttering about his hoard of gold, ignorant to the way his tail curled possessively around you, the scales nudging against your back. You simply took this as an affectionate brush, leaned further against his tail, patting his scales in return. How were you supposed to know that you’d suddenly become a part of a dragon’s hoard? And should you fail to ever return to him… Well, those unfortunate cities would understand why it is unwise to part a dragon from his treasure.
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ebaeschnbliah · 6 months
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What doom do you bring out of the North?
'The doom of choice,' said Aragorn. 'You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?'
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'That you need not pursue them further,' said Éomer. 'The Orcs are destroyed.'
'And our friends?'
'We found none but Orcs.'
'But that is strange indeed,' said Aragorn. 'Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. Only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey.'
'There were no dwarves nor children,' said Éomer. 'We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still.'
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'We do not speak of dwarves or children,' said Gimli. 'Our friends were hobbits.'
'Hobbits?' said Éomer. 'And what may they be? It is a strange name.'
'A strange name for a strange folk,' said Gimli. 'But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings.'
'Halflings!' laughed the Rider that stood beside Éomer. 'Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?'
'A man may do both,' said Aragorn. 'For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!'
.....
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'Scouts warned me of the orc-host coming down out of the East Wall three nights ago, ' he said. Among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my éored, men of my own household; and we overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined them. coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger and more fell than all others.
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'Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better.'
'I thank you for your fair words,' said Aragorn, 'and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains.'
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'Hope does not remain,' said Éomer. 'You will not find your friends on the North-borders.'
'Yet my friends are not behind. We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me.'
'Then what do you think has become of them?'
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'I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?'
'I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them,' said Éomer. 'We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some elvish power.'
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'Our friends were attired even as we are,' said Aragorn; 'and you passed us by under the full light of day.'
'I had forgotten that,' said Éomer. 'It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?'
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JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,  The Riders of Rohan
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roselightfairy · 24 days
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'Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,' said the Elf, 'that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.' 'No, you do not understand,' said Gimli. 'No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.' 'You move me, Gimli,' said Legolas. 'I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain – if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep.' 'That would not be the way of return that I should choose,' said Gimli. 'But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me.' 'You have my promise,' said Legolas.
...This is a thing I love SO MUCH about the two of them, a little understated thing that I don't think I'd noticed or focused on much before. Legolas is thoughtless here; he says something hurtful about dwarves that he doesn't even realize is hurtful because it's just something he thinks is true, one of those microaggressive stereotypes that's just part of how he thinks about Gimli's people. And they're close enough at this point that Gimli doesn't get offended! I mean, he easily could; we've seen how he reacts to Éomer speaking thoughtlessly about Galadriel - but Legolas and Gimli have come through so much together and overcome so much already that they recognize when something is just a misunderstanding. Gimli doesn't get mad at Legolas, doesn't claim offense, just says, "No, you do not understand," and explains to him, trusts him, shares his passion with him. And Legolas lets himself be taught better, lets himself be moved by Gimli's words, and immediately promises to continue learning: to go with Gimli and see the caves for himself, because he wants to understand better what makes Gimli tick. And Gimli understands the worth in what Legolas is offering, so he agrees to reciprocate it, recognizing that this is mutual in all things and that they both have things to learn from one another.
It's just a beautiful example of cross-cultural friendship and trust - and about the ways that they've learned to navigate these misunderstandings, to recognize that what the other person loves may seem "strange" to them, but that there must be worth in it, because this person who is so exquisitely worthy sees something there to value.
Them. I love them. I LOVE THEM. SO MUCH.
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loveyazy · 25 days
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wanna post my theory before Elain's book is here
I know people say Feysand is Hades x Persephone, but NO. Wrong. They're Beauty and the Beast as well. Rhys is literally described as having a beast mode/version/side. People are scared of him. He's misunderstood, etc. And because these are retellings, some things are changed. Like for instance, Rhys teaches HER to read, the way Belle taught the Beast to read in the Disney version (I can't recall if they do that in the original fairytale).
I think Tamlin x Feyre were the BatB fairytale retelling, and Feysand were more the Disney BatB retelling.
Hades kidnaps Persephone in the original story. Rhys tells her he wants her to come to the Night Court as part of her deal. You know who else makes a deal to stay with them? Belle and the Beast.
And yes, Rhys takes her away from Tamlin, but that's literally the only similarity to Hades x Persephone they have. Feyre was never spring-like to be Persephone, but who is?
ELAIN.
Elain is actually going to be the Persephone retelling. She is SPRING and where is she? In the Night Court, aka The Underworld, and ope, who is the male she likes? Azriel. Hades kidnaps Persephone and makes a deal to keep her in the Underworld. I don't think Az is obviously going to "kidnap" Elain, he doesn't need to, but I do think some sort of deal will be made, finally ending any sort of tie of her to Lucien and breaking the mating bond (because let's be honest, everyone and their mate getting together is boring af and is honestly why I'm kinda eh about all the mate reveals in her books now but I digress). Also Az's personality fits Hades much more than Rhys did. Hades has been written as a quiet, reserved introvert who likes to stay in the "shadowy darkness of his realm". Does that sound like Rhys or Az? I mean. It's right there, really.
Now the other retelling was Snow White and The Seven Dwarves, and other than a total crack explanation that Nesta went through several men before finding her prince, aka Cassian, (they did say her mother wanted a prince for her and Cassian was referred to as the Prince of Bastards so....?) it's hard for me to really place them as Snow White, but there wasn't another retelling in the first three.
People say oh three brothers, three sisters, so boring. And everyone and their mate getting together is what? Not boring? Not easy? I would LOVE for someone to finally break the mating bond and say yeah no, I don't want you.
Possibly hot take: Nessian would have been 100000000x better if they didn't turn out to be mates. The reveal at first was like WHAT. And then like five seconds later, I was like, "ope, wait. I hate this."
*spoilers up to cc2, all acotar, and tog 7 in the tags
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Silmarillion Daily - Of Fëanor, and the Dwarves
Two major developments today in Silm Daily!
First, Fëanor reaches the peak of his skills. I put this paragraph here (year 1250 of the Years of Trees) as it’s when History of Middle-earth dates his developement of the Tengwar (and also mentions his work on other gems, including the palantíri).
Fëanor is at this point around 70, which is still young for an elf (probably the Elven equivalent of mid-20s?).
Fëanor was tall, and fair of face, and masterful, his eyes piercingly bright and his hair raven-dark; in the pursuit of all his purposes eager and steadfast. Few ever changed his courses by counsel, none by force. He became of all the Noldor, then or after, the most subtle in mind and the most skilled in hand. In his youth, bettering the work of Rúmil, he devised those letters which bear his name, and which the Eldar used ever after; and he it was who, first of the Noldor, discovered how gems greater and brighter than those of the Earth might be made with skill. The first gems that Fëanor made were white and colourless, but being set under starlight they would blaze with blue and silver fires brighter than Helluin; and other crystals he made also, wherein things far away could be seen small but clear, as with the eyes of the eagles of Manwë. Seldom were the hands and mind of Fëanor at rest.
And, pretty much at the same time, we get the first meeting between the Sindar and the Dwarves, which actually goes very well! As an interesting note, by this time Khazad-dum is already well-established and flourishing; it could easily have been the oldest realm in Middle-earth.
It came to pass during the second age of the captivity of Melkor that Dwarves came over the Blue Mountains of Ered Luin into Beleriand. Themselves they named Khazâd, but the Sindar called them Naugrim, the Stunted People, and Gonnhirrim, Masters of Stone. Far to the east were the most ancient dwellings of the Naugrim, but they had delved for themselves great halls and mansions, after the manner of their kind, in the eastern side of Ered Luin; and those cities were named in their own tongue Gabilgathol and Tumunzahar. To the north of the great height of Mount Dolmed was Gabilgathol, which the Elves interpreted in their tongue Belegost, that is Mickleburg; and southward was delved Tumunzahar, by the Elves named Nogrod, the Hollowbold. Greatest of all the mansions of the Dwarves was Khazad-dûm, the Dwarrowdelf, Hadhodrond in the Elvish tongue, that was afterward in the days of its darkness called Moria; but it was far off in the Mountains of Mist beyond the wide leagues of Eriador, and to the Eldar came but as a name and a rumour from the words of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains.
From Nogrod and Belegost the Naugrim came forth into Beleriand; and the Elves were filled with amazement, for they had believed themselves to be the only living things in Middle-earth that spoke with words or wrought with hands, and that all others were but birds and beasts. But they could understand no word of the tongue of the Naugrim, which to their ears was cumbrous and unlovely; and few ever of the Eldar have achieved the mastery of it. But the Dwarves were swift to learn and indeed were more willing to learn the Elven-tongue than to teach their own to those of alien race. Few of the Eldar went ever to Nogrod or Belegost, save Eöl of Nan Elmoth and Maeglin his son; but the Dwarves trafficked into Beleriand, and they made a great road that passed under the shoulders of Mount Dolmed and followed the course of the River Ascar, crossing Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, where battle after befell. Ever cool was the friendship between the Naugrim and the Eldar, though much profit they had one of the other; but at that time those griefs that lay between them had not yet come to pass, and King Thingol welcomed them. But the Naugrim gave their friendship more readily to the Noldor in after days than to any others of Elves and Men, because of their love and reverence for Aulë; and the gems of the Noldor they praised above all other wealth. In the darkness of Arda already the Dwarves wrought great works, for even from the first days of their Fathers they had marvellous skill with metals and with stone; but in that ancient time iron and copper they loved to work, rather than silver or gold.
Given the mentions of both language and craft in both passages here, the occurence of both these events at around the same time makes me wonder about what could have happened if all the Elves had remained in Middle-earth. Fëanor and the dwarves might have really hit it off, and who knows what inventions they’d have come up with.
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