Tumgik
#sea longing
luthienne · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
George Seferis, from Collected Poems (tr. Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)
[Text ID: Now I long for a little quiet all I want is a hut on a hill or near a sea-shore all I want in front of my window is a sheet immersed in bluing spread there like the sea]
772 notes · View notes
tathrin · 3 months
Text
Oh my gods, suddenly going feral over—
Legolas Greenleaf long under tree In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea! If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.
Which, yes, obviously refers to the Sea-longing that came upon him at Pelargir, and of which he later said:
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying, The wind is blowing and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling. Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voice of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me; For our days are ending and our years are failing. I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing. Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling, Sweet are the voices of the Lost Isle calling, In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover, Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
But of course, we know that he did not pass the wide waters "lonely sailing," for he brought Gimli with him...
Because his heart was in Gimli's keeping by then. After the War of the Ring his heart dwelt in glittering caves under the stones of Rohan; his heart rested in the strong and gentle hands of a dwarf. The very same dwarf who then sailed that Sea with him, and after dwelt beside him in Elvenhome ever-more. It was no longer the forest that held his heart: it was the solid dwarven stone of Gimli's soul.
Fuck.
106 notes · View notes
polutrope · 1 year
Text
I sincerely love how sea-longing in Tolkien is presented as a legitimate and sufficient motive for sailing away and never coming back.
87 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
“Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.” - Legolas
I can’t decide if I like this, but I’m done with it for now
162 notes · View notes
eglerieth · 5 months
Text
33 notes · View notes
roselightfairy · 5 months
Note
Oooh trick or treat!
Ooh! Okay, for you... I think it's gotta be a little snippet from a fic I SWEAR I haven't given up on, even thought it's dormant for now, in which Legolas and Gimli finally leave Middle-earth.
(There's some Mirkwood stuff that I think I might be ready to let go of for @goodintentionswipfest this year, so I won't use that here.)
Dol Amroth smells like the sea. Salt and sand, the tang of dried-up seaweed in its tangled drifts on the shore, left wrung out and abandoned like all things too long tossed by the waves. Many were the times Legolas has wondered if his soul is a similar husk, if his own body will one day be found in just such a limp heap on the shore, his soul fled westward with the punishing tide. And yet here he is. “You look as young as ever I remember you,” Gimli told him once, teasing, tracing the bones beside his eyes with a finger delicate despite the gnarl of age. But even then his eyes were soft with concern, worry hiding behind a reassuring laugh. For Legolas too is old beyond measure – old in soul even if his body remains as hale as ever. This last century of his life has worn at him as an age’s worth of years could not. He needs no cane to stand upright; he can see into the distance and hear sounds miles away – but still something in him has dulled. His wit is sluggish, his smile far away, a distant dream of memory – except when he looks down on Gimli’s sleeping face. His husband lies in the bed they have been given, curled around a pillow instead of around Legolas – for Legolas’s body itches with restlessness and he cannot make himself lie still. The night lies soft and gentle over Dol Amroth, moonbeams streaming in over the flat stones of their chambers – and yet the bones of this place throb still with the age-old loss of their namesake, and the smell of the sea that took his life swirls up from every pocket of air. The restless itch claws at Legolas’s gut, forcing him up from the chair in which he perches; he paces the room in tight, agitated circles. He is a gull with clipped wings, constrained to a cage; he is a wood-elf whose forest has been driven from his heart. He is a husband who has forgotten how to treasure each moment of gazing on his lover’s face, for the knowledge that they are running between his fingers like water. Gimli told him he looked young, but he knew he was lying. Why else would he have insisted that they come here?
20 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Thanks to my family for indulging my deep need for the ocean and for their presence, all together for a brief moment in time. Thank you so much for a beautiful weekend.
[photo and portable record player :: Shalin Scupham]
* * * *
Sea Longing
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,-- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,-- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the seagulls calling to the sea.
-- Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933)
24 notes · View notes
bereft-of-frogs · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
I hope I have appeased whatever ocean spirit possessed me this summer. Here is the final list of everything I read/watched/listened to/played/etc over the last several months while my entire personality became about the ocean. (Almost - planning on watching Deep Star Six (1989) after I finish writing this post and making dinner!)
The Deep, Nick Cutter | Our Wives Under the Sea, Julia Armfield | “Fear of Depths” + “Fear of Big Things Underwater”, Jacob Geller | Into the Drowning Deep, Mira Grant | Underwater (2020) | r/thalassophobia + r/submechanophobia | The Deep House (2021) | 47 Meters Down (2017) + 47 Meters Down: Uncaged (2019) | The Toilers of the Sea, Victor Hugo (trans. James Hogarth) | Dark Water, Koji Suzuki (trans. Glynne Walley) | “Fear of the Deep”, Nexpo | Sea Fever (2019) | The Abyss (1989) | Open Water (2003) | From Below, Darcy Coates | Love, Death + Robots, “Bad Traveling” | “The Fog Horn”, Ray Bradbury + “A Descent into the Maelstrom”, Edgar Allen Poe (collected in Stories of the Sea ed. Diana Secker Tesdell) | Subnautica (2018) | Breaking Surface (2020) | They Came From the Ocean, Boris Bacic | The Cave (2005) | Sphere, Michael Crichton + its 1997 adaptation | “Thalassophobia”, Solar Sands | Whalefall, Daniel Kraus | Sanctum (2011) | The Rift (1990) | Leviathan (1989) | Sand, Salt, Blood: An Anthology of Sea Horror, ed. Elle Turpitt | 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne (trans. Mendor T. Brunetti) | Moby-Dick, Herman Melville
So that's 12 books (including 2 anthologies), 13 films, 4 video essays, 2 short stories, 2 subreddits, 1 game, and 1 TV episode.
Top 5 (in no particular order)
Our Wives Under the Sea, Julia Armfield -- beautiful, both in the descriptions of the deep sea and in its depictions of grief. Florence Welch blurbed it and Florence + the Machine takes 3 spots on the playlist so this definitely set the vibes of the summer.
Whalefall, Daniel Kraus -- reminded me of NOPE (2022) and that's a high compliment. It's also about grief but the kind of grief where there should have been a reckoning, and you'll never get that closure. Truly excellent, honestly I still have the library book because I'm not ready to give it back.
Sea Fever (2019) -- obviously owes a lot of its plot to the 1989 slate of ocean horror films coming out that were in imitation of Alien (1979) and attempting to preempt James Cameron's The Abyss (1989), in that it's about a creature from the deep that possesses the crew of a fishing trawler off the west coast of Ireland...but a moody atmosphere, gorgeous cinematography, and mythological inspiration just makes this a good watch.
"Fear of Depths", Jacob Geller -- honestly all the youtube videos on this list are worth it but I'm highlighting this one because I just love it when youtubers go on field trips. Like yes Jacob go stand in that cave and read your script for our entertainment and edification, yesss
The Toilers of the Sea, Victor Hugo -- ok the thing about Hugo is that his novels often carry social messaging - about poverty, class, the nature of justice, investment in cultural hegemony - and Toilers' thematic messaging is just: what the fuck are you doing in the ocean why are you going in there, don't you see how fucked up the ocean is, leave it alone- (...perhaps a more relevant text for billionaires than Les Misérables? XD) Ok, I'm mostly kidding but truly his depictions of the sea are some of my favorite bits of Hugo prose, I really think this book is underrated in the anglophone world.
Please feel free to ask me for more reviews of the other works on the list and I can give more thoughts! For now I'll just say that I had a lot of fun with the cheesy 80s/90s movies (the later ones don't quite carry the same charm but were still pretty fun even if they weren't 'good'), the books are pretty solid with the exception of They Came From the Ocean by Boris Bacic, which is my only 'do not recommend' on the list. (It wasn't well written, didn't use the setting very effectively, and got weirdly homophobic towards the end in a way that was impossible to tease out from a character decision and made me feel kind of weird?) There is also a smaller, slightly less cohesive list for the second part of this series but it gives away the thematic shift so I'll stick to ocean horror for now. This was an interesting summer. I guess I should probably...read something other than ocean horror now. XD
letterboxd film list | playlist on spotify
Bonus:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Books on (or…near in one case) the beach
6 notes · View notes
rosie-love98 · 12 days
Text
Legolas's Sea-Longing Probably Got Him Like-
youtube
Think of when Legolas and Gimli went to Mirkwood aftr Aragorn's death. With not much to make him stay in Middle Earth. He loved his father and his two friends, Gimli and Tauriel. But, Legolas's Sea-Longing must've worsened. So much so that, when he'd be resting, the prince would be entranced in his dreams of the Undying Lands. Yet, his body would sleep-walk out of the chambers, out of the village and into the Mirkwood forest. Legolas, in his trance, would've fallen into the Enchanted River for he thought it was the Bay Of Belfalas. However, fall he did not for Thranduil, Gimli and Tauriel had caught the dreaming, almost hysterical, prince in a nick of time.
Bonus Song:
youtube
2 notes · View notes
Text
Legolas was sprawled on his back in the low grass, slim hands crossed over his stomach. His blue eyes were open and turned towards the sky above, but they were vacant and far away. He was so still she could almost believe he was sleeping, if not for the quickness of his breath. It came in shallow pants as though his heart was racing inside the stillness of his chest.
*Don't mind me, just slowly dying thinking about Legolas catching the Sea Longing*
"Little one," she called, but he did not move. He did not react even as she came to sit beside him, sinking onto her hip at his side. An awful, dull ache had begun in her heart as she watched his unblinking gaze, still locked on the deep blue of the sky far above.
"Legolas," she tried again.
But he did not turn to look at her, did not even flinch at the sound of his name. He only moved when she laid her hand over his forehead, and it was only to blink, slow and languid, before he turned his head slowly to the side to meet her gaze.
"Ma-neth?"
"Hello, my darling," she murmured, running her fingers along the edge of his cheek. "How long?"
He blinked once more, some of the fog clearing with the movement. "What?"
She cupped his face, her thumb tracing a slow pattern over his smooth skin. "How long have you been hearing the call?"
He flinched, jerking up into a sitting position so quickly that he swayed, catching himself with one wide palm against the grass. "Ma-neth, no. No. I'm - I'm only tired. I'm not-,"
"Little one," she reached for his hand again, the one that clutched at his shins, and kneaded his fingers softly between her own. "You're cold."
He curled his hand tightly into a fist with a sharp intake of breath. "I cannot go."
"Legolas-,"
"I cannot go," he repeated, curling tighter into himself. He pulled from her completely, fingers digging at his own scalp as he pressed his chest to his legs, his head falling between his knees. "I can't - I can't go. I can't leave him. I can't - I can't-,"
"It is our curse as much as it is our gift," she pulled him so that he rested against her chest, safely in the circle of her arms. "How long, my little leaf?"
His breath shuddered and he tucked his face into her neck. "There were gulls. In Pelargir," he shook as he spoke, and she held him tighter. "I'd never heard them before."
"You saw them during the battle?" She whispered, thanking everyone and everything that watched from above that he hadn't been hurt. She could picture it in her minds eye, see his long body going still and impossibly frozen, tight as his bow string.
"Before," he corrected. "We hadn't yet reached the boats. It was so strange - they'd come so far inland. It was like they were looking for me. Do they do that, ma-neth? Do they seek us out?"
"No, my darling, no," she hushed him, carding her fingers through his hair. "It could have happened anywhere. There is nothing that can be done to stop it."
"It's not fair," he clutched at her back, fingers right and trembling against her dress. "I - I don't want to leave. I don't want to go-,"
"This is only the beginning," she murmured, "it will fade, you will see. It will become easier to shoulder."
"But it won't stop," he whispered. "It won't ever stop."
"No," she agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "It cannot be stopped, no matter how hard we wish it to be."
His sobs began anew, breaking from him like a crashing wave. She closed her eyes at the sound, pulling him closer until he was tucked fully into her lap, his arms wound around her waist.
"You can't tell him," he choked, drawing back to stare up at her. His blue eyes were rimmed in red, puffy and swollen from his tears. She thumbed them away even as they continued to fall, pressing her forehead to his.
"I will be shocked if he does not already know," she whispered. "There is no one who knows you as he does."
"No," Legolas gasped, swallowing thickly. "He hasn't said! I've been - I've been careful-,"
"We love you," she reminded him. "You cannot hide this kind of pain from those that love you, little one. Not forever."
He crumbled at the words, falling back into her embrace with another wracking sob. "I'm sorry," he told her, over and over and over again. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave-,"
"Hush, my darling," she squeezed her eyes closed, willed her heart to be slow and calm under his ear. "It will pass, my little one. It will pass. You are so strong. Strong enough to stay with us for as long as you'd like. You are not alone in this, do you hear me? You are not alone for one single moment."
He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but clutch at her, his breath harsh and fast, his tears never ending. She held him there, in that quiet patch of the forest where she'd found him, until the sky had long grown dark around them.
36 notes · View notes
esculentevil · 1 year
Text
Evil’s Greenwood Headcanons (#1): Strength of a Heartbeat
Upon their reunion—despite the late hour, the glowing moon above them and the way its rays actually pierce the forest stretched beneath it, enough to almost outshine the Elda under their boughs—the first thing Legolas does when he sees his father patiently awaiting him is hug him tightly, hold him against his person like he's afraid he'll leave or be taken from him entirely, and smile happily while sighing contentedly; and, when delicately destructive fingers caress his back in silent awe, Legolas finally explains: "I have heard the Song of the Sea, Ada, and I can now safely say: It has nothing on your heartbeat."
21 notes · View notes
luthienne · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i said this is our last view of the ruins, when we turn the corner it’ll be gone — and he said if you don’t look back then it will always be right there behind you forever and ever
675 notes · View notes
tathrin · 7 months
Text
Hey. Hey, do you ever think about the fact that if Legolas hadn't been stricken by the Sea-Longing, if he had still had "peace under beech [and] elm," he would almost surely not have gone to the Undying Lands until many, many years later, long after all his mortal friends were dead?
Do you ever think about the fact that if he hadn't heard those gulls, if he hadn't spent the whole length of Aragorn's reign plagued by the ache in his heart ever pulling him West, he wouldn't have gone until long after Gimli was dead, too? And Gimli would have surely never even thought about asking to go with him, if Legolas's heart wasn't being ever drawn away by that call; it simply wouldn't have been a thing that would have ever occurred to either of them, without the weight of the Sea-Longing hanging over them both for so many years.
Do you ever think about how the only reason they get to have their forever-ever-after happy ending on the other side of the Sundering Sea is because of the wound that the cry of those gulls lanced through his heart?
Because I do.
80 notes · View notes
xnowheregirlx · 1 year
Text
Legolas didn’t know how long he had been in his room. He knew the sun had set and risen more than once since Gimli last visited him, but he hadn’t kept count. Someone from Aragon’s staff had knocked on the door at some point asking whether he would like to join his friends for supper. He had remained quiet until the hesitant knocks had died down. After Gimli had left him to his thoughts some few nights ago, he had moved onto the bed, preferring the way the soft material felt under him- almost like nothing at all. The stone floor was cold, especially at night, and had almost started to feel wet, as if someone had spilled water on the floor and it had started to seep through his clothes, merging with his body, making him fluid. Fluid enough to simply melt through the tiny cracks on the stone floor and disappear. Like the dirt that ran down the stony streets on Minas Tirith on rainy days, he would be washed away and eventually end up drowning in the s-
Legolas closed his eyes tightly and focused on directing his thoughts at something else. The material under him was soft yet tangible and most importantly, dry. He tried to think of the trees, brown and green, firmly planted on the ground. The harder he tried, the more the green seemed to turn into a pale blue, and the wind that gently shook the leaves carried a salty smell that was foreign to the woods of Eryn Galen. At last, the trees were starting to drown in the powerful waves invading his mind and he snapped his eyes open, rapidly blinking away the moisture that his treacherous eyes had produced in his distress.
Posted another chapter finally! Please have a look a let me know what you think, it would mean the world!(:
20 notes · View notes
galadrielspeaks · 2 years
Text
i think i understand elven sea longing because whenever i smell salt in the air i too am filled with a sudden and debilitating longing to abandon whatever roots i have made and run off to live in peace by the sea
40 notes · View notes
arofili · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
@tolkienofcolourweek day five | faith and religion ● life and death ● environment | water, music, and the worship of the One
And so it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.
—The Silmarillion, “Ainulindalë: The Music of the Ainur”
...and his [Ulmo’s] messages came often to them by stream and flood. But they have not skill in such matters, and still less had they in those days before they had mingled with the Elves. Therefore they loved the waters, and their hearts were stirred, but they understood not the messages.
—The Silmarillion, “Of Men”
The children of Ilúvatar awake by waters: Cuiviénen, Murmenalda; the lakeshore and the stream-carved valley. Ulmo speaks to them in whispers, in song, and their hearts are turned westward, to where he dwells in the depths of the Sea. Some hearken to the call and follow the stars leading to the promised Land of Light—yet there is water-song in all rivers, in all land-locked seas, in the eastern oceans at the end of the world, and even Avari and Atani can attune their spirits to the Music of the Water. Lay me to rest in the waves, sing the sea-folk of the southern shores; bring me to life in the rivers, murmur the midwives of the fair gardens of the East. Water is life, is death, is rebirth and destruction: it is creation and renewal, it is the beginning and the end. The shamans of the sands call forth rain with their chants; the minstrels of the mountains sing hymns of flood and fortune; the star-spirits of the Dark Elves hum melodies of the lakeshore they never truly left. Water and song are prayers to the One, whose spirit is felt in all the hearts of the Children. Rain is music, rivers are melodies, the sea a vast chorus of endless harmony. The elves feel the pull of the music, calling them to the sea; the mortals feel the fluid music of a Song beyond the world, pulsing in the waves, pulling them to the waters Beyond.
70 notes · View notes