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phoenix-knight-if · 3 years

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Code Name: Oracle

This project is in the very early stages of development – everything here is highly variable as I keep working out the details. That said, please send in any questions you like about this project or Phoenix Knight! I’m saving anything to do with PK bugs and fixes until a later date since I’m going to take a break from writing it, but I’m still happy to answer questions about the RO’s and setting.

Summary: Life in Delphi City is pretty much like life anywhere – there’s problems, lots of them, but there’s good points too – maybe a bit fewer. But whatever your feelings are about it - it is home. It is also the city with the highest concentration of super villainy on the planet.

The Guardians are the local superhero team, made up of ‘Paths’ – the people with powers – that are on the side of what is good and right, and approved by the government. Their job is to take care of the villains with powers – and sometimes the ones just smart enough to build doomsday weapons. That kind of thing.

The stuff that’s way above your paygrade.

You might be one of the city’s most skilled detectives but you’re still just a detective. Your bad guys don’t have powers (usually). And messing with one that does ends in a world of pain – kidnapped and experimented on by a previously unknown mad scientist type you’re eventually rescued by a hydrokinetic path.

When your powers are discovered, you’re a chance for the Guardians to snatch up an in-house investigator - a part of the crime fighting process they’d previously been forced to rely on the police and other agencies for. And with people beginning to develop into Paths at previously unheard of rates for some unknown reason, Delphi City needs its Guardians to find the answer.

But now they have you. Formerly one of the best detectives in the city but now... after everything that’s happened, you don’t know what you are, but they have decided what they want you to be:

Their very own Oracle.

Features

An +18 rating, again, more for my own peace of mind than what I believe the content will actually be, but I ask that it’s respected.

Warnings: imprisonment, experimentation, police, injuries, genre-typical violence, more to be added.

Planned Features Include:

Customizable Skill Approach - What kind of detective were you known to be. Are you the sort of detective that is good with getting people to tell you what you need to know? Are you the sort that can chase down and catch and answer even if it has you sprinting across rooftops? Are you the sort that notices the details and can put them together? And is that still your style?

Customizable pronouns (with an option in the player menu to reset them as desired)

Decide why you joined the police in the first place. Also decide how you feel about your maverick big brother.

Four romance routes currently planned: Siren, Warren, Cal, and Victoria

Characters

The Detective – Gender Selectable - MC – A legacy cop, whose grandfather and father were both respected life-long officers, your family has a reputation in the DCPD - one that your older brother managed to thoroughly trash, or redeem, depending on who you ask while you were still on the beat. Your position is hard won but no one can deny your skills as an investigator, family name or no. But when your kidnapping results in the development of powers, making you a ‘Path’ you’re put into the Guardians, not as a costumed hero, but as an investigative specialist.

The Villain: “Siren” – Gender Selectable – RO - Without any evidence to prove that the mysterious Siren was a supervillain and not just a very clever criminal the detective and their partner were originally assigned to attempt to apprehend them – or, otherwise, gather enough evidence to make the Siren the Guardian’s problem and not the DCPD’s. Now you’re a Guardian and in the six months since that stakeout and it’s very much your job to catch them – but why are they being so damn helpful?

The Leader: Warren Hughes, “Commander Truth” – NB – RO – The Guardian’s telepathic leader, Warren is a strict person with high expectations for everyone around them, but perhaps the highest set for themself. You know Commander Truth best by their black-and-white-lightning bolt costume from the situations where the police have had to work with the Guardians. You definitely didn’t expect your brother’s best friend – and a vague shadow in your life since Adrian went to high school and first met Warren - to be the one under the mask.

The Rookie: Callum Lindsey, “Titan” – M – RO – The newest member of the Guardians, apart from you, Cal has only been in Delphi City for eight months. The blue-and-gold clad ferrokinetic path who can twist buildings out of shape with his abilities is not who you were expecting to be the team’s grinning cinnamon roll, but Cal is definitely the warmest welcome you get to the team.

The Protector: Victoria Aragorn, “Starlight” – F – RO – One of the longest serving Guardians, she joined the official superhero line-up at the same time that Commander Truth did. Though her abilities as a Path give her control over fire – and to a lesser degree light and warmth – she is most famous for her skilled usage of traditional martial weapons and unarmed combat forms. Before Victoria put in the red and black suit of Delphi City’s ‘Starlight’ she worked for the government doing the sort of things only a Path could. (A/N: Victoria’s code name might change later on, but right now I’m amused by the idea of Siren giving her hell over it via “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” so it’s what I’ve got for now.)

The Partner: Theresa ‘Tessa’ Graves – F – Tessa and you have been partners for two years now, and friends for longer than that. She was there on the stakeout the night when everything changed. Her injuries might have forced her to retire from police work but after everything you’ve been through together she’s definitely not retiring from being your best friend. No matter what your opinion on the matter actually is.

The Brother: Adrian – M – Your elder brother is the only family you have left these days, not that that feels all that new. He’s also the one responsible for ruining the family’s sterling reputation when his work uncovered a massive amount of corruption in the police related to bribes and deals made with the city’s supervillain community and he didn’t do the brass the courtesy of backing down quietly about it – instead handing the entirety of his evidence over to the Guardians to pursue and, what was safe to, over to reporters the same day that he handed in his resignation. He claims he’s much happier these days, working as a PI and writing what he reassures you is going to be ‘the worst novel of all time’.

The Doctor: Elis Mercy - M - The doctor in charge of looking after the Guardians, and because of your position and the circumstances around your kidnapping he’s also been your doctor since your rescue. In addition to being one of the only doctors in the city that specializes in caring for Empathic people, his own Path allows him to heal injuries. But just those of the trauma variety - broken bones, bruises, cuts and lacerations, not infections and not poisons. (A/N: The doc’s name is a stand-in, I’m not happy with it. So I’m going to keep fishing around for one that fits him.)

#Code Name: Oracle #WIP2 #interactive fiction #very very very early development #I'm going to probably change the blog name soon to accommodate CNO a bit better #twine #(or rather it will be)

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

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Prompt: Someone’s jealous (Content Challenge Day 1)

Pairing: Hinted Legolas x Female Reader, light Boromir x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1313

Warnings: Angst (nothing too heavy)

A/n Hey everyone, welcome to Day 1 of my content challenge! You can find the challenge’s masterlist here, and my personal masterlist here. And honestly, I don’t even know what happened with this story. I had two fluffy pieces ready to go and then I read them again and realized I wasn’t ready to post them. So I opened a doc and accidentally wrote angst. Whoops! Hope you enjoy :)

Boromir entered the clearing, arms laden with firewood. With a nod towards Sam, who had volunteered to tend to the fire, he dropped the wood, retreating to a log on the edge of camp.

The exact log upon which Y/n sat.

She greeted him warmly, welcoming him back from his quick venture into the forest. Without meaning to, Legolas watched as Boromir placed a soft kiss on Y/n’s cheek, earning him a shy smile. Seeming slightly hesitant, Y/n laid her head on Boromir’s shoulder, and when he wrapped an arm around her back, Y/n relaxed, pleased that her advance was received favorably.

Legolas tore his eyes away from the budding romance, turning his back on them to help Sam with the fire.

“Oh, don’t you worry yourself with this, Mister Elf. I’ll get the fire going, I just need to find the right kindling.”

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. “The firewood is not enough?”

Sam looked away, seeming uncomfortable with criticizing the quality of the firewood and, by extension, his friend Boromir. “I’m sure he did as best he could in the dark. Unfortunate it is though — most of the wood is too wet or covered in moss. Have you got a bit of spare paper, by chance?”

Legolas stared at the offending pile of wood. This is ridiculous, he thought. Do not volunteer to collect the firewood unless you know what you’re doing — it’s a waste of everybody’s time.

A giggle from Y/n floated to Legolas’ ear, and he couldn’t stop the frown that set in his lips. It seems it was not inexperience that caused Boromir to bring back unacceptable supplies, but distraction.

Legolas huffed in frustration, grabbing a stick at random and marching to where Boromir and Y/n sat.

He shoved the moss-covered branch in Boromir’s direction. “This is what you came back with? Hardly any of it is usable. It is too long or half-drenched or covered in moss — it won’t burn.”

Boromir puffed out his chest, tearing his gaze away from Y/n to look upon the elf with a measure of disdain. “The wood is perfectly useable.”

Legolas clenched his teeth, caught in an unexpected flurry of anger. “It is apparent you have allowed yourself to become distracted and forget your duties. I will have to do it myself.”

He pushed past the two humans, stalking deeper into the woods.

With his elven hearing, Legolas heard Y/n’s soft and slightly alarmed voice call after him. Everything in him shouted for him to turn back, to answer her plea, but he kept his feet moving forward. Something about the camp tonight made him irrationally angry, and, stranger still, left him with an unwelcome discomfort in his chest.

He heard light footsteps behind him, and knew Aragorn was on his trail. Legolas kept walking until he was far enough away from the camp that he could no longer hear any individual voices, just a general murmur of sounds. He found a small cliff and a cluster of rocks and climbed, pleased that he found a spot that allowed him to sulk and keep an eye on the surrounding areas.

Aragorn was not far behind, and soon sat on a boulder across from Legolas.

The two sat in silence for a long while, both of their brows furrowed in thought. While Legolas contemplated the foul mood he found himself in, Aragorn struggled with how best to broach the conversation. Legolas was one of his closest friends, and he liked to think that he knew the ellon quite well. Over the past few months, it had become apparent to Aragorn that Legolas harbored affection for the human woman that accompanied their fellowship.

And it had recently become apparent to everyone that Y/n and Boromir were interested in each other.

Aragorn knew this was the reason for Legolas’ anger—he was sure of it. But how best to bring it up?

Finally, Aragorn spoke, bracing his forearms against his knees and turning towards the elf. “You know, Legolas, sometimes, when I think of Arwen in Rivendell surrounded by ellyn, I get a little stressed out.”

Shame gathered in Legolas’ gut. He felt quite guilty for being so dramatic when it was obvious Aragorn needed to talk. He mustered what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to provide reassurance. “Do not be worried, mellon nin, elves love only once. If Arwen has chosen you, there is no threat from other ellon.”

Aragorn looked to the ground briefly. He hadn’t expected to have to try again.

He took a second to regroup. “Right. Thank you for that. But uh, if I were to see her in another’s arms, or see her flirt with them, even, that would make me very upset. And that’s to be expected, really. It only means I love her, and I wish for her to want me only.” The line between Legolas’ brow deepened, and Aragorn continued eagerly, hoping his friend was catching on. “It would hurt me to see the woman I love being affectionate with someone else.”

Legolas’ mouth set into a hard line, and his eyes widened. Aragorn nearly laughed in relief. Finally.

“Has Arwen been unfaithful?”

No! So close!

Aragorn bit back a curse, and Legolas took this as confirmation.

He sat back on his heels, his features encompassed by disbelief. “This is unheard of from an elf, though perhaps it is the influence of her human lineage. I admit, it pains me greatly to think her capable of such a thing. But do not fret, mellon nin, I will stand by your side through this.”

“No, Legolas,” Aragorn groaned, laying a hand on the elf’s shoulder, causing him to look Aragorn in the eye. Time to try again. More overt, this time. “Arwen has never been unfaithful, nor do I sense that quality in her.” Legolas relaxed in clear relief, and Aragorn allowed himself a deep breath before continuing. “I only meant to say, that if I had romantic feelings for someone…and I saw them engaging in displays of romantic affection with someone other than me….” Aragorn saw the moment realization began to dawn in Legolas’ eyes, and he felt a strong pang of sorrow for his friend. He forced himself to continue, knowing that Legolas needed to acknowledge these feelings in order to deal with them. “It would make me feel sad, and hurt, and probably angry and frustrated, too…and that’s okay. I think it would be especially difficult if I did not realize that I had these feelings of affection for her, until she was in the arms of another.”

Legolas seemed to sag, dropping his head and letting his elbows rest on his knees. The two sat in silence for a moment as Legolas took deep breaths, unused to feeling such frustration and grief. After what seemed like quite a long time, Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn’s.

“How did you know? I did not even know.”

Aragorn gave a small shrug, hating that he couldn’t be of more help to his hurting friend. “You look at her in the same way I look at Arwen — with complete devotion. You’d give up your title for her, lay down your life for her…do anything and everything you could to make her safe and happy.”

Legolas tried to protest. “I want safety and happiness for any of you.”

Aragorn held up a hand to stop him. “It’s different and you know it.”

Legolas sighed, feeling defeated. “I don’t want to love a human. Especially a taken human.”

“Just be there for her, look out for her as her friend. And you never know. Give it time.”

Legolas clenched his teeth together against the onslaught of despair. “She is human, Aragorn. Time is something she does not have.”

A/n Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list!

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incorrect-lotr-trash · 3 years

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I'd love to read your essay about Sam! He's a great character.

First of all, I love you. Bless you for asking. Bless your soul.

Second of all, I hope you know what you are in for.

I’m not even sure where to begin and I KNOW I will write this and then scream at myself for forgetting stuff, but lets just spend some time crying over the one and only Samwise Gamgee.

He is seemingly a ‘simple’ person - and by that I mean he is a happy boy spending his time gardening and finding the little joys in life. Whilst its obvious he loves the stories of adventure he was content to never have one himself - his life in the shire was already an adventure to him! That is a beautiful thing. He knows that he doesn’t need to ‘prove himself’ or do anything ‘worthy of praise’ in order to live a full and happy life.

Sam I believe is fueled/motivated in life by the same thing I am - love. Love for others, love for making others feel loved. Everything he does is for love (platonic & romantic) and his bonds with others are his focus in life. If anyone knows the Enneagram Samwise is a strong type 2 and these are all traits of a type 2 (I am also a 2).

Samwise, despite having total faith in his companions, has little faith in himself. This I think is more obvious in the books, he talks to himself to encourage himself and ponders over his options out-loud all the time. I mean, for example, in the book he spends ages wondering what he should do after he finds Frodo seemingly ‘dead’ after Shelob’s lair, and then when he realises he listened to his head and not his heart he scolds himself for it. He can doubt himself when it comes to his own abilities & struggles to stand up for his own needs yet the second someone else is in need he is the first to notice and the first to speak up for them. He is so bold and strong for those he loves - its no wonder he throws his shire life away the moment he hears Frodo is leaving. He has enough understanding and insight to know that Frodo will struggle on his own, and whilst he doesn’t understand the full power of the ring and Frodo’s task he knows without any doubt that Frodo needs him - and he is glad to go with him.

I mean hello, in the books he is the only one that realises Frodo is trying to leave the company AND he knows that means Frodo will be at the beach with the boats - he stops following Aragorn and goes to find Frodo the second he realises this.

Unpopular Opinion here (I think) but not everyone deserves a friend like Sam. And I say that with the best of hearts. Sam is the character everyone wants as their friend, “we should all have a friend like Sam” how often to we hear this phrase?? But I am of the opinion that not everyone is deserving of a friend like Sam. They are rare people. Just because he gives out so much love and devotion doesn’t mean that people can use him when it suits them and drop him when they’re bored. Frodo is deserving of Sam’s devotion - obviously because of the task Frodo sets himself, but also because he does not at any moment take Sam (or his love & loyalty) for granted. Just because Sam gives out so much love doesn’t mean that he won’t need the same in return. Frodo very clearly loves his Sam, and knows what he has in him. For Sam (who constantly gives out love no matter if he receives it back or not) the fact that Frodo loves him unconditionally really cements his devotion and love in him.

I could go on, but thats a start for now. Thank you for asking me to talk about Sam!! I love him dearly.

Do we want more Sam rants? (Or any other character rants?) Let me know!

Take Care & Thank you again!

#asks #samwise #thank you so so much for asking me about him!!!!!#bless you!!!!

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queen-susans-revenge · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review (thanks to @gondalsqueen for tagging, this is a fun one!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

176720

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Six, but the vast majority for Star Wars. I wrote one Batman story that was very dashed off, mostly a quick character sketch for a possible AU. One Sherlock Holmes story that still gets some love on AO3. Two Lord of the Rings stories. A couple of reworked fairy tales. And five for Dragon Age.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Well, the top two are my Star Wars Rebels smut epics, Fade to Black (514) and Fade to Black and Back (396), which are literally just about all the sex Kanan and Hera have in the offscreen moments in every episode. I have zero shame about this.

Then there's Talk About It (335), which is another smutty piece based on a bit of party banter in Dragon Age: Origins.

Wedding Dance (312 kudos, and back to Star Wars Rebels) is my most popular non-smutty fic, but Passion, Serenity (263) is big time smut about cartoon characters again. Listen, it's not all I write; it's just what I write best, apparently!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, although I'm behind in responding, because I get overwhelmed easily. I have all the comment notifications saved in my email though so I can stroke them over lovingly like a dragon admiring her gemstone hoard. Every now and then while I'm being dragonish over my comments I get a burst of virtuosity and think "I'll reply to some of these!" and then I do, so I am slowly working through my backlog, and I can only apologize to those of you who are getting your responses years and years later.

I always meant to answer. I always treasured your comment.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Scenes from Rivendell. By like, a lot. If you've never thought too much about Aragorn's mom Gilraen, please let me invite you to all the feels.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't think I ever have! I should do that, sometime, it sounds fun.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, I had someone chide me for writing smut on a kid's show. But I try to be really careful about tagging so only the people who WANT to see the smut end up finding it.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

The dirty kind ;o

(Though there generally has to be at least one girl involved for me to be interested. I have written some m/m content, but not a whole lot.)

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, not that I know of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and it's the BEST thing!! I absolutely love it when anybody does translations, art, podfics or spin-offs of my stuff. It feels amazing to see my work out there in the world, living and traveling.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

None of my AO3 works are co-written. I had an original story that got picked up for a fiction podcast that was co-authored with a friend. Although the story behind that honestly was that I wrote the thing and insisted he accept the co-author credit because it was based on one of his characters in a roleplaying game.

Something similar will probably happen with a different friend and the space pirate novel that I'm working on now, if it ever gets published.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't know! Certainly Kanan and Hera is what I put the vast majority of my fic-writing energy into. But I was a huge X-Files shipper back in the day and Mulder and Scully still hold a special place in my heart.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I'm super grateful to @gondalsqueen for doing Fade to Red so I can feel like that project actually got finished properly! I think I no longer have any outstanding wips?

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialog, and sometimes cadence/rhythm, when I hit a good stride.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Self indulgence. In fanfic that's a tendency I don't even try to fight though, because it's what fic is for. In original fic though it's always a struggle to keep it tight and keep it flowing. And not try to show off Everything I Know About Mythology, or How Cool This One Idea I Had Is, or whatever.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Tricky! Relying on Google Translate is probably a bad idea.

I'll give an example from my current project. There's a scene set in a laboratory on Mars where Something Has Gone Terribly Wrong and I wanted automated warnings playing on a loop in various languages for maximum spook factor.

The English is "Warning! Please evacuate the building!" so I ran that through Google Translate for Russian... and then asked a Russian-born friend to verify that it was a good translation. He responded that it was not, because in fact that phrase needs some cultural translation before the literal one will make sense. As he put it: "The Russian would be a lot more direct. And they wouldn't say 'please.'" So instead, he gave me "Vnimaniye! Vyhodi zdaniye!" which is something more like "Attention! Exit building." And I absolutely love that.

So, I think before you can really write dialog well in another language you either need some direct knowledge/understanding, or a native speaker who doesn't mind looking it over for you.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I thiiiiiiink it was X-Files. All those fics were lost in time, like tears in rain (no it's fine they were terrible).

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It's hard to pick, but it might be one of the Sabine stories. Heart's Blood, maybe.

I always stress about tagging people and being annoying or leaving someone out, so please consider yourself tagged if you want to be!

#fic writing meme

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amxranthiine · 3 years

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amxranthiine’s masterlist (UPDATED AS OF 8/14/21)

Hello! This is my official masterlist. I write for: The Lord of the Rings The Hobbit Harry Potter This list is growing! Please do not be upset if your fandom is not here! I am in many more fandoms, though I just have not tried writing for any of them yet. You can most definitely request something and I will write it if I know who that person is! * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . LORD OF THE RINGS

Aragorn Oneshots meraki - “ Can I request platonic friendship with Reader, Aragorn and Arwen. Reader has a tendency to get in trouble, but are supportive and helps Aragorn and Arwen to get together?” Series (ON HOLD FOR NOW) c i c a t r i z e pt i pt ii pt iii - Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew.

Elrond

Oneshots laconic - Y/n does not speak, yet summer nights with her husband say more than words ever will. Legolas Oneshots honeybee - Based off of Honeybee by The Head and The Heart. Arwen

meraki - “ Can I request platonic friendship with Reader, Aragorn and Arwen. Reader has a tendency to get in trouble, but are supportive and helps Aragorn and Arwen to get together?” Thranduil kalon - “request: Can I ask for platonic Thranduil with sister in law reader, reader is Legola's aunt and she saved Legolas' mother from dying but ended up paralyzed from waist down, needing to be on a wheelchair (let's pretend they have wheelchairs), and Thranduil is very grateful and helps reader a lot with things?” The Company BRUTAL - imagine: you, a 17 year old girl from our world, being thrown into middle earth. how would the company react to you listening to, and singing, brutal by olivia rodrigo? (she/her pronouns) thorin's company x teenage!human!reader (platonic) - imagine being a young, human teenager in the company (literally a baby in the dwarves eyes) and them being absolutely outraged to find out that you *technically* should be married. (because early human culture am i right?)

HARRY POTTER Ron Weasley ethereal (x poc!reader) - The reader is a POC Slytherin, who is in love with her friend, Ron Weasley. After an awful day, and a run in with his obsessed best friend, can she win the love she desires? (I’m so bad at summaries I’m sorry) Multiple Characters imagine being the ex friend of the slytherin crew - the reader is a pureblood from a very long line of pureblood supremacist's and has grown up with draco, blaise, pansy, theo, daphne and astoria. her friendship with the six of them struggles as she is put into any house but slytherin and befriends neville, ginny and luna. Once again, this is a growing list. I do not plan to stop writing anytime soon, and please give me time to finish a work and post it. It may take me a few days, it may take me a few weeks. If I discontinue a series, I will let you all know.

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

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Vice and Virtue in Tolkien’s Works

I’ve been rereading Dante’s Purgatorio (easily my favourite of the three sections, both for having a very satisfying structure and for its themes of repentance and reform), and the structure inspired this post. Each level of purgatory has images, words, or both, associated with the vice being reformed and its corresponding virtue (the examples being drawn both from the Bible and Greco-Roman history and mythology) and it gave me ideas for a discussion of similar themes in Tolkien’s works.

The structure is: 1) Pride/Humility; 2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit; 3) Wrath/Charity; 4) Sloth/Zeal); 5) Avarice/Simplicity; 6) Gluttony/Abstinence; 7) Lust/Romantic Love.

1) Pride/Humility

Saruman: Our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.

Frodo: I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

This is easily the primary emphasis in Tolkien’s works. The fall of all his main villains (Morgoth, Sauron, Fëanor, the Númenoreans, Saruman) and as well as other non-villainous tragic characters (Túrin, Thingol, Turgon, Thorin, Denethor) is characterized by pride - the desire to be the one calling the shots, the desire for greatness and others’ recognition of that greatness, the refusal to listen to the advice or views of others.

It’s there in Melkor’s desire for his theme to be the only one heard in the Music; in Sauron’s desire to rule the world and arrange everything as he thinks best; in Fëanor’s determination to take any advice, correction, or disagreement as a personal attack, his desire for rulership in Middle-earth, and his attitude that the Silmarils are more important than anything anyone else has done or created; the late-stage Númenoreans’ campaign of imperialist conquest. It’s there in Túrin’s, Thingol’s, and Turgon’s rejection of good advice; in Thingol’s attitude towards other peoples, whether it’s Beren or the dwarves; in Denethor’s conviction that Gondor is the only place and people of any account in the war against Sauron.

Humility, in contrast, is mainly seen in the form of hobbits. None of them have any idea what they’re doing when they leave Rivendell (Sam and Pippin don’t even know where Mordor is), and they know they’ve got no idea. They’re not going because they see themselves as specially skilled or qualified, but because it needs to be done. And that’s the very reason Frodo can resist the Ring so long, and Sam can resist it, because they don’t have any grand ideas of themselves.

The ability to say I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll try to do what’s right is pretty crucial to humility; even members of the Fellowship who are far more experienced, skilled and knowledgeable than the hobbits show it. Aragorn says it, in the search for Merry and Pippin when they’re captured by orcs. Pride could easily say I need to go with the Ring-bearer, that’s the most important task or I need to go to Gondor and lead the war against Sauron as their King. But Aragorn lets himself trust in other people doing their parts, and focuses on rescuing his companions - the thing that no one else is a available to do - even as the chase seems increasingly hopeless. It’s also seen in Gandalf, who openly admitted he was scared to go when the Valar first sent him, and wandered around as an old man in a battered cloak and hat, talking with everyone, rather than setting himself up as a Respectable Dignified Authority Figure the way Saruman did.

The Silmarillion has fewer examples of humility than LOTR (perhaps why things turn out so much worse there) but there are a few in the Leithian. Lúthien is another case of saying I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll do it because no one else will when she sets off to rescue Beren. Finrod walks away from his crown and realm to help a friend.

2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit

Denethor: I will not step down to be the dotatd chamberlain of an upstart.

Faramir: My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?

Envy is akin to pride, but I’m characterizing it as being specifically the resentment of being surpassed (or even equalled) by another.

Fëanor is again a major example of this, specifically in his resentment of Fingolfin and of the descendents of Indis more generally. Peoples of Middle-earth notes that he resented the name Nolofinwë (Fingolfin’s Quenya name, roughly means ‘wise-Finwë or ‘learned-Finwë’) due to regarding himself as not only the most skilled of the Noldor at craftwork (which he was), but also the most skilled at lore/scholarship (which he wasn’t), and likewise resented the name Arafinwë (Finarfin’s Quenya name). He’s in a mental place of resenting anything positive that can be said about his brothers as if it inherently detracts from him. And he takes the same attitude towards Men (‘No other race shall oust us!’), treating their very existence as a threat to the Eldar. Losgar is the peak of this: he’s willing to sabotage his own war effort to prevent Fingolfin from participating. This is contasted with Maedhros’ attitude after being rescued by Fingon, when he willingly gives up the crown and, later, moves across Beleriand to the most exposed section of the northern border to avoid conflict. His own status isn’t his priority; peace with his family and the best interests of the war against Morgoth are his priorities.

Denethor is another major example, seeing both Aragorn’s return and Faramir’s respect for Gandalf as personal affronts to himself. (Gandalf points out that the literal job description of a steward is to be in charge until the king returns. When the king comes back, that means you’ve done your job, not that you’re being demoted. Denethor is not interested in hearing this.) He’s also mentioned in the Appendices to have resented the respect and admiration recieved by Thorongil [i.e. Aragorn in disguise] during the days of their youth. In very similar ways, Saruman resented the high regard that some (like Galadriel) had for Gandalf, and saw Gandalf as a rival. Thorongil and Gandalf were not interested in rivalry; they were more interested in what was achieved than in who was achieving it. Faramir is the contrast here - he is interested in the good of Gondor, not his own status, and has no jealousy of Aragorn.

3. Wrath/Charity

Fëanor: See, half-brother! This is sharper than thy tongue. Try but once more to usurp my place and the love of my father, and maybe it will rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.

Gandalf: It was Pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand; Pity, and Mercy, not to strike without need.

I would say that this is the third-most-emphasized of the vices in Tolkien’s works, after pride and avarice. And, of course, another Fëanor example: both his threat on Fingolfin’s life and his actions during the Return of the Noldor, the latter being driven by wrath primarily against Morgoth and secondarily against everyone else in his vicinity (Valar! Teleri! Fingolfin and anyone who supports him!). It’s the spillover that’s the problem, and the self-centredness; hating Morgoth isn’t a problem in and of itself, but Fëanor’s taking the fight against evil and turning it into a personal vendetta, with disastrous consequences.

Túrin is another example, most particularly in three events: causing the death of Saeros, burning the hall of Brodda in Dor-lómin, and killing Brandir. The former two are provoked, the latter isn’t, but all of them are sudden deeds of anger that only serve to make matters worse.

The contrasting virtue is charity, mercy shown to people that you have good reason to be hostile towards. Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros. Lúthien’s sparing of Curufin when he and Celegorm attacked her and Beren. Frodo sparing Gollum and treating him with kindness and compassion.

4. Sloth/Zeal

Guard Hobbit: It won’t do no good talking that way. He’ll get to hear of it. And if you make so much noise, you’ll wake the Chief’s Big Man.

Merry: Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don’t know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they’ll go up in fire.

This is comparatively less of an emphasis in Tolkien’s works than some of the other pairings, but I can think of some examples. The best one is Saruman’s takeover of the Shire and the subsequent liberation. Sloth is the characteristic hobbit vice (not gluttony; I’ll get to that); they tend towards being comfortable and complacent and don’t like being bestirred. Even Frodo dawdled around for half a year after learning about the Ring, mostly because he was reluctant to go. And under first Lotho and then Saruman, everyone (except Tooks) more or less puts up with an abuses because they don’t want the trouble or danger of standing up against them. It’s the return of Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, who have experience fighting evil on a much larger scale (and who can organize things) that spurs them to stand up for themselves and their home.

5. Avarice/Simplicity

Celegorm: For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends.

Gandalf: I wonder what has become of [the mithril-shirt]? Gathering dust still in Michel Delving Mathom-house, I suppose.

Avarice is, I would say, the second-most-emphasized vice in Tolkien’s works, after pride. The central conflicts in both The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings are objects (they’re in the titles!): the Silmarils and the Ring. The Oath is almost the strongest possible expression of avarice, the most extreme statement of this is mine that a person can make; The Ring is an even more extreme expression, as Sauron makes an object that is literally part of himself. And both conflicts are resolved through the renunciation of claim on these objects, in Eärendil’s journey to Valinor (and the Silmaril becoming a star that is seen by everyone and owned by no one) and Frodo and Sam’s mission to destroy the Ring.

The Silmarils themselves are not evil; they are good and hallowed objects, and fights between elves, dwarves, and men are the result of the Oath (the kinslayings) and the connection with the dragon-contaminated and Mîm-cursed treasure of Nargothrond (Thingol and the dwarves of Nogrod). The Ring is evil, and inducing avarice is its most basic power, even among people like Sméagol and Déagol who could never actually wield it; letting it go is incredibly difficult, and Bilbo and Sam are the only people in the history of the Ring ever to do it.

Avarice is also a central theme in The Hobbit, and dragon-treasure is specifically noted as provoking avarice in people who are in any way inclined towards that vice. Smaug is practically a physical manifestation of avarice in his rage over losing one small cup that he has no use for from an immense hoard, and both Thorin and the master of Lake-town fall prey to the dragon-sickness.

I’ve given ‘simplicity’ as the antonym, and I thought of ‘generosity’ as well, but neither of those is quite right. The opposite of avarice is holding lightly to things, and it’s a particular virtue of hobbits. This is seen both in their birthday parties (the tradition of giving away possessions) and the Michel Delving Mathom-house, a museum for old heirlooms that people feel they don’t need to have around. The most beautiful example is Bilbo’s mithril-shirt (worth more than the entire Shire!) spending some time sitting around there.

It’s worth nothing that the vice of avarice in Tolkien’s works isn’t associated with having stuff, just with holding to stuff. Bag End being comfortable isn’t a problem. The Noldor having piles of jewels isn’t a problem provided that they’re sharing them and letting them go, as in the Noontide of Valinor (gemstones scattered on the seashore!) or Finrod giving them away in Middle-earth. The issue comes when the owning becomes what a person values; the signal that Fëanor is becoming too tied to the Silmarils is when he prefers to lock them away so no one else can see them.

6. Gluttony/Abstinence

Gollum: He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!

The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have laid down to die. It did not satisfy desire...and yet this waybread of the Elves had a potency that increased as travellers relied on it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and gave strength to endure...

Gluttony is distinguished from avarice as the desire to consume things, not merely accumulate them. This is an interesting one, because Tolkien has no issue with the consuption of large amounts of food for enjoyment (which hobbits do frequently and enthusiastically!). As with possessions, enjoyment of physical things isn’t seen as problematic. The enjoyment of everyday pleasures is specifically discussed as morally desirable in a way that contrasts with avaricious accumulation (“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”)

However, there is one large (very, very large) example of the concept of gluttony as unlimited consumption and appetite: Ungoliant. Ungoliant represents not the hoarding of things, but their destruction, and is continually described with very physical terms of appetite and devouring. Shelob and the spiders of Mirkwood are lesser versions of the same concept. There are other mosters in the same vein: Sauron’s werewolves and Carcharoth. On of the names for Carcharoth is Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst, specifically invoking the idea of insatiable consumption.

And gluttony can be described more broadly as an form of overconsumption which uses up or destroys things; pollution could be a modern-day example. Looked at in that way, gluttony can be considered the end-stage of all evil in Tolkien, in the same way that pride is its beginning-stage. The ruin of the Anfauglith, the Desolation of the Morannon, the trees of Fangorn used to feed the fires of Isengard or hacked down for no purpose (and even Losgar, if you like) are all its work. Gollum (heavily driven by mundane hunger) grasps this when he fears Sauron regaining the Ring: “He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!” Ungoliant is the final stage of all evil.

In the same way that hobbits enjoying ample meals isn’t treated as a moral flaw, abstinence isn’t particularly notable as a virtue. However, it does come up in forms like Sam noting that lembas provides more endurance as the hobbits rely on it solely in their final journey to Mordor. This indicates that Tolkien regards the ability to go without physical pleasures when necessary as a virtue (also symbolized by Sam’s heartrending decision to give up his cooking gear!) but doesn’t place value on ascetism for its own sake.

If we want to expand on the metaphorical idea of gluttony as overconsumption/destruction, then we can also see healing/restoration as its opposing virtue, in forms like the box of soil that Galadriel gives Sam, which he uses to restore the trees of the Shire.

7. Lust/Romantic Love

Celegorm became enamoured of [Lúthien]...they purposed to let the King perish, and to keep Lúthien, and force Thingol to give her hand to Celegorm.

Beren: Though all to ruin fell the world, and were dissolved and backward hurled, unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Lúthien for a time should be.

Lust is often regarded simply as a term for physical attraction, and its condemnation as a type of prudishness, but I’m going to present a different take, one that draws on its connection with the two preceding vices (the three are consistently grouped together by Dante). Lust is when the two previous desires, of ownership and consumption/use, are applied not to objects but to a person.

It’s an extremely rare vice among elves, with only a few examples in Elvish history: Celegorm, Eöl, Maeglin. In all cases, there is sexual desire combined with the desire for control, turning to violence when that control is thwarted: Celegorm’s imprisonment of Lúthien in the attempt to force her to marry him, and the later assault on her and Beren; Eöl’s restrictions on Aredhel and murder of her when she leaves him; Maeglin’s attempt to kidnap Idril during the Fall of Gondolin.

In contrast, the examples of romantic love, which are primarily the elf-human couples and especially Beren and Lúthien, combine desire with value for the freedom and identity of the beloved, and with self-sacrifice (or willingness to take on risks) for their sake. Beren’s song before setting out for Angband is a celebration of Lúthien’s existence, irrespective of what may happen to him. Lúthien counters with the expression that she does not want to exist apart from him, and purpose of lovers is to act together and to guard and support each other. Elwing runs through the waves to Eärendil on the shores of Valinor because she would rather face the same risks he does than be safe apart from him. Eärendil accepts immortality for love of Elwing. Arwen accepts death for love of Aragorn.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #christianity #ethics #moral philosophy #fëanor #frodo #gandalf #sauron #beren #lúthien #ëarendil #elwing #celegorm #sam gamgee #denethor #faramir #saruman

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ripplesinthesand · 3 years

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moments in lord of the rings: return of the king ranked by how hard they make me cry:

1. frodo turning to look back at sam after climbing onto the boat in the final scene. for the first time since the ring was destroyed, he genuinely looks like he’s at peace. he’ll never heal completely, but he knows that this step — leaving for the grey havens — will help ease some of that pain. he looks at sam and he smiles because he loves his friend so very deeply, even as they part, and because some of the weight of that trauma from the ring has somehow, in this very moment of taking these first few steps, been lifted.

every single time i watch this movie, this moment is like the nail in the coffin. at this point in the scene i’m already crying but that shot of him smiling at sam is enough to make my cry until my stomach hurts. like not even crying but genuinely fucking WEEPING.

2. “don’t you let go.” samwise. sam sam SAM. sam i love you!!! and frodo!!! this moment makes me CRAZY like i made a post a while back about the parallel that this scene creates and i’ll include the pic for good measure:

when i watched this movie most recently, THIS was the scene that fucked me up the most. it’s always interesting when i watch it because a lot of the times i’ll get emotional over a scene that might not have gotten me wound up during previous watches and like. yes i have cried over this scene before. but in my most recent rewatch, the moment where sam looks at frodo, when he gets that look on his face and says don’t you let go. i just. burst into tears. no joke like my face just crumpled and i lost it.

because FUCK frodo WANTS TO DIE. he WANTS to give in he WANTS to let go he feels guilty and oh so tired and he just wants to quit but sam WILL NOT LET HIM!! and frodo sees that he sees that sam believes in him and he reaches up and grabs sam's hand and then sam pulls him up and that is LOVE baby idc how you define it it is pure irrevocable unconditional love. fuck i love lord of the rings these movies are not for dudebros they are for sickeningly emotional people who actually like. understand the themes. like “this is a love story” phoebe waller bridge.jpeg

3. “we set out to save the shire, sam. and we did. but not for me.” / “you can’t leave.” technically very close to my #1 choice but. the feeling is different. the vibe of #1 is incredibly bittersweet, is extremely sad but also happy with a real sense of relief and above all catharsis. but this part is just fucking sad. the audience is realizing exactly why frodo has to leave and it’s just absolutely heartwrenching. and FUCK where is sean astin’s oscar because he sells it he absolutely sells it. like that IS samwise gamgee and that IS his grief as he realizes that his best friend is leaving him. after everything they’ve gone through together, the pure hell and horror, the pure suffering that they experienced, frodo is leaving him. like that is grief in sam’s voice, pure sadness that cannot be cured.

frodo tells sam “you cannot always be torn in two. you will have to be one and whole for many years. you have so much to enjoy and to be and to do” and perhaps that makes it worse because frodo knows that by leaving, he is effectively ripping sam’s heart in half. but he has to, he has to, and sam knows that. he understands and yet he is still sad, is still grieving over the abrupt removal of this relationship from his life. there one second and gone the next.

4. “then let us be rid of it! once and for all! come on, mr. frodo...i can’t carry it for you, but i can carry you!!” you know what? no explanation needed.

5. “my friends...you bow to no one.” aragorn THEE king of gondor!! fuck this moment is a lot and it hits especially hard if you’ve watched the movies all in one go (as they are meant to be watched!!) because you’re sitting there on your fucking couch and watching aragorn tell these fucking hobbits “hey. no. you’re the heroes and we should be the ones bowing to you” and it’s like yes!! yes exactly!! you’ve watched those damn hobbits go through HELL and seeing aragorn recognize that is SO fucking special.

but!! what makes this scene tear-inducing isn’t just the emotional catharsis of that recognition from aragorn but also the zoom in on frodo’s face at the end. frodo. fucking frodo baggins. he does not think of himself as the hero. make no mistake; he is a hero. but he does not believe that of himself and he probably never will. in this moment, all he sees is a crowd of people bowing to someone who does not deserve it, to someone who gave into the evil of the ring. someone who failed.

and there is nothing that we the audience to do to dissuade him of this notion. all we can do is observe. i am going to claw my eyes out.

6. “i'm glad to be with you, samwise gamgee...here at the end of all things.” well i started to tear up just typing that out so. there’s that i guess. don’t worry though i am completely fine!!

anyways. as i said earlier. frodo and sam’s relationship is the soul of lotr and this scene, which sees them huddled together as the world literally burns around them, is exemplary of that. like they firmly believe that they are going to die BUT. they have each other. they have each other and fuck that is enough. after everything they’ve seen together, after this hellish journey they’ve been on, it is enough just to be together. something something the power of pure unconditional love something something “you’re going to die in your best friend’s arms.” you get it. you get it.

7. this fucking scene.

i just. i hate this. i fucking hate this so much. every time i watch this scene it’s like getting my still beating heart ripped out of my chest. elijah wood kills it here; that realization of oh god oh god it will be like this forever, and all the sadness that goes along with that, is clear on his face. he was probably already planning on leaving but if he had any doubts i do believe it was this interaction that erased them. and that’s just. well. horrific!!

#rotk best movie of ALL time #lotr #lord of the rings #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #sam and frodo #return of the king

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aspiring-ginger · 4 years

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Thunderstorms Ch. 2 (Fellowship x Reader)

Summary: Reader gets the Fellowship ready for bed, how the heck is she going to have room for everyone?

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2,496

Pairing(s): Platonic Fellowship of the ring x fem!reader, eventual romantic interest (Lord of the Rings)

Who do you want Reader to end up with? Vote here!

A/N: This one was fun to write! Reader is going to have some nice moments with each member of the Fellowship before the final romantic pairing is decided, so this chapter has a bit of Legolas! I am keeping a tally of who you guys want the reader to end up with, so go ahead and put your votes in lol

Comments and feedback are always appreciated! Let me know if you want more!

Taglist: @thunderdog8 @kathieycarrerarosshley @sleep-deprived-things @nabercnm @agenerallynicegirl @sammy201d @thefoxskinwalker @minimxno

(If your name has a strike-through in it, I couldn’t tag you! Let me know if I spelled anything wrong, or check your settings so I can tag you in future parts!)

Masterlist I Previous

You left the fellowship standing around your kitchen table while you went looking for candles and flashlights. It did cross your mind that the majority of the fellowship wasn’t even human so they might be able to see better in the dark, but you needed the light and using just your phone wasn’t going to cut it. It was probably for the best that you needed to grab these anyway, so you could use this time to process what the actual fuck was going on.

No matter how many times you pinched yourself, the fellowship was still standing in your kitchen. It was fucking bonkers and you knew it. Hopefully you would be able to put them all to bed quickly so you could sleep and when you woke up it was all a dream and there weren’t eight strange men in your house. God, you hoped it really was a dream.

You managed to find a few scented candles that you currently balanced in your arms as you returned to the kitchen. The hobbits were still seated at the table, busy whispering to each other with wide eyes. Aragorn and Legolas seemed to be discussing something in Elvish. They both seemed tense so it could actually be an argument, but honestly you had no idea. Boromir saw you struggling with the candles, so he strode over and took several from your hands. You tried to protest but he simply waved it off saying it was the least he could do for your generous hospitality. He helped you spread the candles throughout your house and watched curiously as you lit them using a lighter. You caught the hobbits’ attention as well when you put the last candle down in the middle of the table.

“What’s that, there? You tryn’ to use some sort of a weapon on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the lighter in your hands.

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m just lighting the candle, see?” You clicked the lighter so the small flame would come out of the tip, then lit the candle.

“Is that some sort of magic?” Pippin asked.

“Why are you lighting the candles now? Don’t you have any torches or candles already lit?” Merry chimed in.

You handed the lighter over to Pippin so he could get a closer look. Wait shit, was that really the best idea to give it to him, of all people? Well, it was too late now as he was already twirling it around in his hands and fiddling with the trigger to try and light it. It was only a tiny lighter anyway, it wasn’t like he could actually set anything on fire….you hoped.

“Hm? Oh, it’s dark because the power’s out.” Merry gave you a blank stare so you clarified, “Our lights run on electricity, not fire. The storm must’ve hit a generator or something, so the power’s not on. I can’t turn any lights on without it.”

“Does this normally happen, lass?” Gimli piped up from his spot in the corner.

“No, we haven’t had a storm this bad in a long time, and if the power ever does go out it’s usually only for a couple seconds.”

“Well, the candles smell wonderful.” Boromir added with a smile. You smiled back and excused yourself to get them towels. Seriously, they were making puddles on your floor. You saw the lights flicker back on in your office as you grabbed them. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

“Alright, the power’s back on now, but I’m not gonna turn on a ton of lights because it’s late and it’ll be bright.” You explained as you handed out the towels.

Tackling one problem at a time- the power was back on, and the fellowship was drying off. Now you had to figure out where everyone could sleep. This was going to be a real challenge. Two could fit in your parent’s bed, two in the guest bed. One on the loveseat, and either one or two on the couch. You had a small pullout couch underneath your loft bed you had since childhood, but that would mean one of them would have to sleep with you in your room. That might not sit well with them wanting to preserve your honor and hospitality. They had their sleeping packs with them and you had a sleeping bag as well, but you didn’t want them to have to sleep on the floor. Especially since you had no idea how long they would be staying and they’d been on the road for so long it felt wrong to make one of them sleep on the floor. You supposed you could clean off the couch that was downstairs in the family room, but it was sort of dirty. Sighing, you explained this to them, which they all assured you it would be no problem should some of them need their bedrolls.

“I’ll give you a tour of the house, and then you all can decide where you want to sleep.” They all nodded in agreement. “So, you’re standing in my kitchen. Do you have any questions?” You asked as you flipped on the light.

“Will you show us how to use your equipment?” Sam asked, “We’d hate to have you cooking all by yourself. And I’d like to learn to help, if I could.”

“Sure, but we can worry about that in the morning. I think we could all use some sleep first.”

You led them throughout your house turning the lights on as you went. They didn’t have any questions, but you figured that all this was overwhelming so you didn’t launch into any explanations unprompted.

After some discussion among themselves they came to a decision- Frodo and Sam would sleep in the guest bed downstairs, Aragorn on the couch also downstairs (he wanted to stay close to Frodo in case anything happened), Gimli took the loveseat and Boromir the couch in the living room. Merry and Pippin would sleep in your parents’ bed upstairs. Legolas insisted he lay out his bedroll down with Gimli and Boromir, he refused to sleep in your room.

“Please, Legolas. You’ve been through so much, just take the pull out couch,” you pleaded, “We wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed or anything. I promise, it’s fine.”

“No, I could not. Elves do not sleep the way Men do, you need not worry. I will be alright.”

“If you don’t need as much sleep as humans, then it would be alright if you slept on the couch! We wouldn’t disturb each other, and you don’t have to stay in there once you wake up. I just want you all to be comfortable. Please, it’s the least I could do.”

“Would it not be improper, my lady? What would your husband think?” Boromir cut in.

“What? No no, I’m not married. Nooo way. It’s just me in the house, my parents are out of town and won’t be home for a long time. Besides this is a...weird situation, but you’re my guests so everything here is yours. I would give up my bed if I needed to, but I have a feeling you guys wouldn’t like that.” They shook their heads. “There’s nothing wrong with a friend sleeping in the same room and hey it’s 2020 so it doesn’t matter what gender. At least for tonight. If you want to move tomorrow I promise I won’t be offended.” You offered a final plea.

Legolas caved. “As long as it is what the Lady wishes.”

You held up your hand “Okay let me just get this straight- I’m not a lady. Just call me (Y/n), I don’t have a title. I’m not nobility or super rich or anything so you’re not offending my honor or whatever by calling me by my name.”

They nodded in response, but you weren’t sure if they would actually listen.

“Okay, you all can start setting up your stuff and getting ready for bed. I’ll bring pillows and blankets, and I can dry any of your clothes. I’ll get you all some stuff you can wear tomorrow.”

You set everything up, the fellowship trailing behind you until their respective ‘beds’ were made. Just Legolas was left, so you told him to get ready however he needed and you would change in the bathroom. Oh shit. The bathroom. You would have to explain that to them. You called them back upstairs and quickly gave them a run down of the bathroom, water in the kitchen should they need it, and whoever was the first to wake would come wake you up as well. Racking your brain, there wasn’t anything else you could think of.

You set up the couch for Legolas, then climbed up into your bed. You weren’t sure if you should say goodnight. Honestly, why did you push so hard to have this elf sleeping in your goddamn room? You laid there contemplating if you really should say something, if it would be more awkward to say something or not say anything at all, it was taking too long to decide so if you spoke up now it might be weird-

“Thank you for the bed. Sleep well, (Y/n).” Legolas softly called up to you, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s really no problem. Goodnight.”

You rolled over and tried to sleep. Minutes ticked by but you just could not fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing far too quickly. What if you said something while you were sleeping? Moved around too much? Made too much noise? Oh god, what if you farted? Why, why, why did you push so hard for him to stay with you? There was an elven prince sleeping underneath you. A real, actual elven prince. You flopped around in your bed to try and get a more comfortable position. Every time you did, you paused and winced realizing that your huffing and rustling around could keep Legolas up, too. Seriously, why did you think this was a good idea? By the time you finally began to drift off, you had no idea if Legolas was actually asleep. He hadn’t made a single sound since he bid you goodnight. Well, you could just apologize tomorrow for keeping him up.

---

You woke the next morning to a soothing voice calling your name. You groaned as you looked around, who would be waking you up this early? Rolling over, your eyes met with soft blue ones. Oh. Legolas was still here, in your bedroom. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Ah, good morning, (Y/n). I believe I heard some of my friends beginning to stir downstairs. I woke you so you might have time to dress before the hobbits bust down your door,” he chuckled, “They can get quite hungry in the morning, and I’m sure seeing a fully equipped kitchen has only made their hunger worse.”

“Oh, thank you.” You instinctively pulled your blanket closer to your chest. “Did you sleep alright last night? I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

Legolas’s laughter was bright and clear. “You needn’t worry. The dwarf snores far louder than your tossing and turning. I was still able to dream. If you like, I shall step out into the hall so you may prepare for the day in private.”

You hummed in thought. If the fellowship really was stuck with you now, they would eventually see you in your pajamas. It might be better if it was sooner than later so they could get used to it.

“Oh no, it’s alright. I’ll just use the bathroom, you don’t have to leave.” You climbed down your ladder and scooped up a bra and a brush, sticking them under your arm in an attempt to hide the fact you were carrying your undergarments.

You went through your usual morning routine, double checking to put on deodorant and a little perfume. The non-humans had sharper senses right? You didn’t want to smell bad, ugh that would be embarrassing. As you exited the bathroom you heard loud snoring from downstairs. That must’ve been what Legolas was talking about. When you came back into your room, you found Legolas examining your things. His attention seemed to be on your bookshelf.

He had taken off his outer tunic and bracers leaving just his blue undershirt and trousers. His boots and socks were neatly placed beside the end table next to the couch. His weapons leaned against it as well, the string removed from his bow.

“Would you like some tea or coffee? Wait, do you guys even have coffee?”

“Coffee is not a common drink with the elves, but the halflings might enjoy it. Everyone enjoys tea.”

“Cool. You can pick out what kind.”

Legolas followed you downstairs and into the kitchen. It was still early, the sun was barely poking over the tops of the trees. Gimli and Boromir were still asleep and Aragorn appeared to be waking up. There was no sign of the hobbits just yet. You pulled out your rather large selection of tea for Legolas to look through while you started on breakfast. Who doesn’t like waking up to the smell of food, right?

You didn’t have that much in your fridge so nothing too fancy, but you did have eggs and bacon. You took what little vegetables you had left and added it to the scrambled eggs- a few mushrooms, some spinach, a little onion, and some cheese. You put some bread in the toaster for good measure. Aragorn came up to join you, taking a seat across from Legolas. He launched into a conversation with him in elvish after saying good morning. Eventually, Legolas handed you a box of regular green tea and you put the kettle on.

The others began to shuffle into the kitchen when breakfast was closer to being ready. Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas all offered to help, so you put them to work setting the dining room table and bringing kitchen chairs in to make room for everyone. You were quite pleased with what you were able to come up with, but now you definitely had to go to the store. Which meant leaving them home alone. Maaaybe not such a great idea.

The hobbits seemed particularly happy with what you made, the mushrooms especially. Everyone happily sipped their tea and enjoyed their meals, making light conversation. Legolas and Aragorn were speaking to each other in elvish again, much to your annoyance, while Merry and Pippin described the dreams they had that night. Boromir and Gimli laughed on and added their dreams for good measure. It was easy to see how well everyone got along with each other, and the hobbits were kind enough to bring you into the discussion as well. This isn’t exactly how you thought your spring was going to go, but it sure was going to be lots of fun.

Taglist is open!

#my writing #thunderstorms #lotr #lotr x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #legolas x reader #gimli x reader #frodo x reader #samwise x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #fellowship x reader #fellowship of the ring #fellowship of the ring x reader

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 5 years

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#if you ask I will write a whole goddamn essay on Boromir #and why his death means more to us as we get older *whispers* babe I want the essay

Why must you always enable me I love it never stop. So. Wow. Where to even start. I rant through my tears about how much I love Boromir every time I watch Lord of the Rings, which I do about once a year with @captainofthefallen. Every time I watch it, his death means more to me, hits me harder, and I think that’s because the older we get, the more we identify with Boromir.

Here’s the thing. In all honesty, as a kid (I first read LotR when I was eleven, first watched the films at that age as well), I wasn’t too fond of Boromir. Oh I liked him all right, he was fine I suppose, but I didn’t connect with him. I was angry when he tried to take the One Ring from Frodo, and I cried a little at his death because death is sad and I was a kid, but it didn’t devastate me.

Because as a kid? I wanted to be Aragorn. The reluctant king who rises up and does the right thing, always. The guy who gets the amazing (be still my bi heart) Arwen, the Evenstar, fairest of the elves. The guy who literally kicks ass. The man who is noble, honorable, thoughtful, good with his words, humble, knows the burdens of leadership, who stands up and says there will be a day when the courage of men fails, but this is not that day.

I wanted to be the hero.

I noticed this trend among my peers growing up. We all loved Aragorn and wanted to be him. Boromir was sort of dismissed.

But then a funny thing happened, called getting older.

I got older, and I fucked up.

I got older, and depression hit.

I got older, and the weight of societal expectations, of being an older sibling, of adult responsibilities, of legacy, of family secrets, of family history, all settled on my shoulders.

I got older, and I learned that men are not always honorable, or kind, or humble, or the leaders they should be. And I learned how hard and desperate it is to continue to believe in the strength of men.

I got older, and I learned how temptation comes for us all, in different forms, and how we hurt people without meaning to, and how sometimes for all our regret and tears and apologies, we cannot mend what we broke.

I got older, and I leaned what it is to be forced into a role I didn’t want, to feel I’d hit a dead end, to struggle against those who had different views, to feel like people could look into my heart and see the anger and fear that I tried so hard to hide.

I got older, and I realized: I’m Boromir.

We’re all Boromir.

Tolkien was very deliberate with his characters. They aren’t just characters, flawed and wonderful though they might be. They also each represent something very specific. Aragorn represents the Ideal. The hero that we all can be, the hero that we should strive to be, the vision of mankind as we are supposed to be, if only we can let ourselves shed our hubris and our doubts. Aragorn represents who we should be.

Boromir represents who we are.

Flawed, frustrated, burdened, tempted, struggling, setback, good intentioned, afraid, angry, kindhearted, noble, loyal, and painfully, beautifully human.

Boromir went to the Council of Elrond reluctantly. He shouldn’t have gone. Boromir is a war leader, as we learn after his death. He successfully fought for and defended Gondor from Mordor for years. That’s where he belongs. Faramir is the quiet one, the diplomat, the “wizard’s pupil,” the soft-spoken and patient one. Note that even in the film version, which shows a differently characterized Faramir than in the books (Tolkien heavily based Faramir on himself), Faramir only wants the One Ring in order to give it to his father and win his father’s pride and affection–he doesn’t want it for himself.

If Faramir had been at the Council and Boromir had stayed in Gondor, everything would have gone differently, and possibly for the better.

But the Steward of Fuckwits aka Boromir and Faramir’s father decides he wants Boromir to go, to represent their family, because Boromir is the son he values and is the “face” of Gondor. So Boromir sets aside what he wants, and he goes. And the whole time he feels out of place, feels like a fish out of water, feels second to Aragorn, feels lost, feels terrified his city will fall while he is gone, feels like the race of Men is being mocked and looked down on as weak.

How many of us as we grow up are stuck like that? We can’t fix our family (although we try), we can’t fix our broken country (although we try), we can’t get rid of the doubts and fears that whisper to us (although we try), and we can’t stop feeling like we’re constantly second best, constantly failing, looked down on, especially the millennial generation.

(Given what’s happening in the world right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tolkien found himself surprisingly similar in outlook and feeling to our generation. But that’s another topic.)

And of course that’s the key. Boromir–darling, frustrated, stuck, fatally flawed Boromir–is so very relatable because he tries. He tries to teach Merry and Pippin to protect themselves and then tries to save them and dies for it. He tries to convince Aragorn (who at that point is more elf than man in his outlook) that there is no reason to give up on his people, their people–and he succeeds in that, although he dies before he gets to see it. He tries to make his father proud. He tries to apologize when he fucks up. He tries and he fails, and he tries and he succeeds. And the most important things he does, the biggest seeds he plants, he never sees them flower.

Like my God, the man’s last words are I failed. I failed you, I failed Frodo, I tried to take the Ring. I’m sorry, I failed. That hits me so goddamn hard in my mid20s and it’ll hit me even harder when I’m older, I’m sure. How many times have we said that to people? “I tried to help him.” “I tried to reach out.” “I tried to apologize.” “I tried to stop them.” “I tried so hard.” I tried, I tried, I tried. For the job, for the friend, for everything, I tried.

And I failed.

I have a laundry list of things I tried and failed at, and God, do they hurt. Sometimes it was something out of my control, sometimes it was my own behavior. And that scene with Boromir, the flawed man, staring up at Aragorn, the ideal hero, and begging him, begging him, “save them, they took the little ones, find Frodo,” begging him for forgiveness, apologizing for his failures?

Talk about a fucking metaphor.

We make our ideals in literature so that we have something to look up to and strive for, for others to strive for. Boromir falls prey to the ring, but Aragorn does not. You did what I could not. Of course Aragorn did. He’s the ideal. And we beg our ideals to be better so they can show us the way and hopefully, maybe, someday, we can be like them.

I had so many heroes growing up, real and literary. Sara from A Little Princess. Aragorn. Lucy from Narnia. Nancy Drew. Harry Potter. And so many times I would look at myself in the mirror and cry because I knew, I knew if I stood in front of them they would be disappointed in me. I knew I wasn’t being the person I could be. I tried, I failed, I tried, I failed, but my God I swear, I tried.

As a kid or even a teenager, we still see mainly who we want to be. Our ideal. And I hope that we never lose sight of that. I love Aragorn and my God am I going to keep trying to be like him, and like all of my other literary heroes. We need those heroes, we need them so badly, and the darker the world gets the brighter we have to make them shine.

As an adult, though–as an adult, we start to see not only who we want to be, but who we are, and who we could’ve been, and how we failed to be, and the paths not taken and the paths that were lost. And that’s important too. Because Boromir died convinced he was a failure. Convinced he was, truly, the weakness we find in men.

And he was… but he wasn’t.

Without Boromir, Aragorn wouldn’t know what happened to Merry and Pippin or where they went. Without Boromir, Aragorn would’ve had no hope in the race of men. Without Boromir, who would have carried the hobbits up the cold mountain, or taught them how to fight, or said give them a moment, for pity’s sake! Who would have defended Gondor for so long, or loved his brother with a ferocity that Denethor’s abuse couldn’t knock loose, and inspired that brother to keep fighting even as the light faded and the night grew cold and long?

Aragorn carries Boromir’s bracers throughout the rest of the trilogy, right up to his coronation, where he is still wearing them as he is made King. Because Boromir might not have seen it–we might not see it–but we tried and we failed but we didn’t fail at everything. Lives are made brighter for our presence. The world is better for our gifts and our convictions. And no fight, even a fight lost, is done in vain.

The remains of the Fellowship ride to Gondor not just because it’s the Right Thing to Do, but because it is the city of their fallen brother, it’s Boromir’s home, the home that above all he gave everything to defend. Boromir doesn’t want the Ring for power, he wants it so his home will be safe, his family will be safe, and God who can’t relate to that, as we grow older and we see our families and friends attacked and scarred, as we have children and want them out of harm’s way. Who wouldn’t be tempted to seize the chance to keep them safe?

I see so much of myself in Boromir. And I take hope. I take inspiration. I cheer through my tears as he is hit again and again with arrows and each time he gets back up on his feet and grits his teeth and you can see him thinking not today. As a child I thought Boromir was selfish but as an adult I hear him use his last breath to apologize to Aragorn and call him his brother and his king and I see he’s more selfless than he ever gave himself credit for being. Boromir sees only his faults, but we can see what he doesn’t, we see his positive impact and we see his virtues, too.

Because as an adult I’ve failed, and I want to believe that like Boromir, I’ve also succeeded, I’ve also been more than just my faults–even if I can’t see that yet.

Aragorn is who we should be. But Boromir is who we are.

And my God, we should be proud of that. Because Boromir is a damn good person to be.

#mads answers things #Lord of the Rings #LotR Meta #Boromir #Boromir meta #I cried just thinking about Boromir while writing this #Boromir is a goddamn hero #a tragic one but a hero all the same #and I will hear no different #extasiswings #I'M A FUCKING IDIOT WHO SAID MORIA INSTEAD OF MORDER #FUCKING FUCK #I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP

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meteor752 · 3 years

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I made a joke post about Legolas and Aragorn adopting a baby Geralt and raising him a few weeks ago, but I can’t get it out of my head, so I’m gonna expand on that AU. First post can be found here

So Legolas and Aragorn are basically just out on a vacation in the eastern part of Middle Earth, just taking a break and chilling around you know, when they stumble upon a child just outside the kingdom of Rivia (Yes I am keeping that)

The child is about three or four years old, with the peculiar outward appearance of big Yellow eyes and almost white hair, and it doesn’t seem to mind being out alone in the middle of the forest.

Both Legolas and Aragorn decide though that they will try to find the child’s parents, and they spend two days in Rivia searching for the parent of the child, or just someone who knows something, but they get no results. Most people are repelled by the child, saying that it’s cursed or the result of witchcraft, and both Aragorn and Legolas take offense by that as they had gotten attached to the child.

On the third day they eventually give up, and after a long discussion they decide to adopt the child, as again, they both got attached real fast.

When the two return to Gondor with the small boy whom they named Geralt, a lot of people get quite surprised, mostly because what and why. Their respective families have the same reaction.

The two realize quickly that Geralt is not a normal child.

First, they have no idea what he is. They first thought human, but when small bursts of magic started to come from him, and when his acute sense of smell was discovered, they scratched that idea.

Second, he refused to part with his wolf medallion. They didn’t know why, it had been inspected by a lot of people, including Gandalf himself, but it didn’t seem to have any type of spell or curse on it that made him so fiercely attached to it. And he couldn’t tell them anything about it because-

-Three, he barely speaks. At first they thought he was mute or deaf or something alike, but that didn’t seem to be the case as he could hear, and he did utter a few words here and there. He just chose not to speak, and mostly made cute little grunts when people spoke to him.

Legolas became a mother hen very quickly, and was very loving towards his strange child, and as a child Geralt didn’t mind it too much. As an adult however, then he just wishes his ada would stop smothering him (He secretly loves it).

Aragorn is a lot less lovey dovey, but still very caring and Geralt loves to be around him. He was very quick with teaching his child both sword techniques and manners, but his major priority was teaching him how to care for a horse.

Geralt was not a shy kid as many people believed, When it came down to it he was more than able to voice his opinion. He just, doesn’t like to talk. And because of that fact, he also grew up to be very poor with words and having a problem formulating himself, which backfired a few times in his life.

The thing is, he doesn’t like when others talk either. He just wants to sit around and brood in silence like the angsty boy he is, but none of his family members allow him to, as they are all very chatty and cheery.

Especially his two uncles Elladan and Elrohir and his aunt Tilda, like whenever either one of them are around he can kiss peace and quiet goodbye for at least a few days. It’s even worse when it’s all three.

Geral’t strange magic became a problem early on, as it was very unpredictable. He could do more simple things like start fires and create a protective shield, but also literally manipulate minds, which was not a pleasant thing, especially as he had a hard time controlling it in his youth.

Gandalf tried his best to teach the boy to control his magic, and he did manage to get a hang of it, but sometimes it could still act out in his adulthood when he felt particularly stressed out or angry.

That wasn’t the only problem that came with Geralt being of unknown origin, as sometimes Aragorn and Legolas didn’t know how to properly raise the boy, and what he really needed.

For example, when Geralt was around seven he fell ill. And with that I mean really ill, many feared that he would not survive.

Both Legolas and Aragorn were devastated and the former spent nearly all his time holding and cuddling his shaking and whimpering baby who was in too much pain for the caring parent to handle, and he started to stop eating just to always be able to be by his son’s side.

Aragorn couldn’t afford to drop all of his duties as king, even though he wanted to, but his mind was very absent during everything he did that did not involve caring for Geralt.

Geralt eventually got better, thankfully, but neither Aragorn nor Legolas would ever forget the fear they had felt for almost five months of their still small and fragile son being so close to death.

Geralt’s magic wasn’t only a bunch of negative stuff, it did also come to some benefits in his youth, especially when it came to worrying his Ada.

At around nine Geralt found out that he could temporarily vanish, aka become invisible, if he focused on it enough, which meant that his parents were forced to place a bell on him just to make out where he was. He took it off quite often and would usually be hanging around his frantic Ada, sipping his juice box and watch the scene unfold,

(And I know that’s not really in the Witcher canon, but I just thought it would be cute and this is my AU so fuck off)

Not too long after Geralt got a half elf cousin by the name of Brand, at at first he was confused by the small thing and why he was supposed to care, but as Brand grew older and learned to sit up and make noise, Geralt hated the small thing and just wished for it’s demise. It did not help that his parents loved the kid and would gladly babysit when the thing’s parents were busy, which meant he was forced to be around it.

When Geralt turned twenty two he left Gondor to find his own path (Much to his Ada’s terror because there’s so many ways for him to get hurt Aragorn how are you so calm about this), only equipped with the bare essentials for a life on the road, including a mare he named Roach, a descendant of Brego.

Geralt was very quick to pick up on his father’s habit of having conversations with his horse, and Roach was quite a good listener.

Geralt found his purpose when a child ran up to him while in a village and asked if he could slay the monster that had killed his sister in exchange for money, as his family had seen his swords.

Geralt complied, partly because he could need the money and partly because it would be nice to help, even though his facial expression remained a grim scowl.

And after killing the thing and nearly dying himself in the process, he figures that he needs to do some research on different types of monsters and how to beat take them down before he starts going about.

He also starts carrying potions with him that he acquires from mages and witches across Middle Earth, just to make it easier to hunt and to heal himself after the fact.

But it is not everyone who appreciates his help unfortunately, as many turn him down just by his strange and uncanny appearance, and by his grim attitude that often scare people off.

It does not help that he introduces himself as Geralt of Rivia instead of Geralt Greenleaf of Gondor, just so people wouldn’t know who he was and treat him differently, but it does result in people having no idea he’s the son of a king and a crown prince so they treat him like shit if they want to.

It does not get better by the events in Blaviken, that Geralt would rather not speak off, especially to his parents.

It is first when he meets a young cheery bard that reminds him of an annoying bird that people start to respect him more, after the bard creates a ballad about him.

(Toss a coin would obviously sound a little different since in this AU the term ‘Witcher’ doesn’t exist and I doubt he would “Thrust every elf far back on the shelf” if he himself is part elf by adoption, but it is till toss a coin)

And both Aragorn and Legolas are just delighted at hearing the song because they are just so happy for their son, if not a little confused on why he is called Geralt of Rivia, but still yay!

(The bardlings love singing it together when they are around each other, as they love their nephew and is also all music loving people)

There’s also the mage that he encounters from time to time (And with encounter I mean they fuck, because well, Geralt is related to both Legolas and Tilda after all), whom the Bard, Jaskier, hates.

And then he gets an invitation to the wedding of Arwen and Éowyn while around both Jaskier and the mage, Yennefer, and they both are just as confused because “Wait you have a family?”

And the minute they find out about Geralt’s large, loud and quite famous and royal family, they are both pestering him about following to the wedding because they want to meet the people who raised Geralt, and he gives in after a lot of nagging and begging.

So when Geralt shows up in Rivendell with a brightly dressed bard and a gothic mage, well let’s just say it’s interesting.

Legolas is delighted that his little Gerry has made some friends while also checking on him that he is alright and Geralt hates in while Yen and Jaskier are having a blast.

Jaskier is really smug about the fact that Geralt is actually related to a bard in a way, with his Ada’s step siblings mother being one, and the three take after her with their own musical talent.

Jaskier and Sigrid gush a lot about different songs together.

And Tilda is just shamelessly flirting with the sexy gothic mage while Geralt regrets every single decision he’s ever made.

And of course Brand is there being an asshole while flirting with Jaskier, and again, Geralt regrets everything.

A betting pool is set up on who they think Geralt will end up with, Jaskier or Yennefer.

Geralt just craves death.

***

I tried to incorporate as much of the Witcher lore as I could, but I also had to take into account how Middle Earth works, which is very hard.

I mean, one is Polish and the other from New Zealand.

I don’t know what Geralt is supposed to be exactly, maybe some sort of Fae or Elf half breed, or maybe he is a mutant like the actual Witcher’s.

Anyways, this was fun, and I really wanna make more of this AU, because I love it. It’s not canon in my Universe though, sadly, because it just wouldn’t work.

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elvish-sky · 3 years

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Half: Old and New

A.N: So first of all, I just made myself cry while writing this. That’s never happened before, so be warned. Anyways, this is the first part of my new Legolas x Reader series, called Half. The series is based on a personal thing about me, and I wrote a little intro post that explains it and all the details here. I’m so unbelievably excited to be able to share this with you all, I’ve been planning it for three weeks at this point, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 1,776

Warnings: Death, angst, grief, comforting, there’s really nothing happy happening in this part.

*IMPORTANT: Just so you know, the reader only uses their right eye. Everything in their left just looks blurry.

****

Old and New

You had watched as the faceless black shadow cut down your kin like they were nothing. Sweeps of the blade felled man after man, and you were unable to lift your eyes from the terrible scene below.

You drew your swords, knowing you were supposed to stay hidden but not being able to bear watching your friends be slaughtered. You sprang down from the tree, lifting your blades as you sprinted to put yourself between the shadow and your brother. Parrying the stroke, feeling it resonate down your arm in all its wrongness, you could sense the air of terror surrounding you. You sensed something moving on your left and spun just in time to be whacked by the flat of the blade, your swords knocked out of your hands. Dazed from the blow, you tried to rise, watching as it advanced on your brother, who was lying helpless on the ground.

You scrambled for a dagger, a sword, any weapon that might be able to save him, and your hand landed on an arrow from the quiver still strapped onto your back. Seizing it, you threw it at the shadow, hoping to distract it more than anything else. It splintered as soon as it touched the creature, who didn’t even notice it, and stepped forward, stabbing your brother right in the heart.

“Hallas!”

You grabbed another arrow, standing, and cast it at the shadow only to watch it splinter as well. It turned towards you, and whipped its sword back at you, knocking you over again but not piercing your skin.

“Worthless girl.” It stood over you, and its voice sounded like all that was evil, making you feel like no light could ever pierce this overwhelming darkness. Your eyes followed its hand as it descended towards your face. It looked as if it was moving very slowly, but you knew this not to be true as you felt it strike your jaw, everything fading to black.

You blinked your eyes open, gazing up at the darkening sky as your brain tried to piece everything together. Why did your side hurt? Why was your jaw aching?

Oh.

You looked at the bodies of your fallen comrades, strewn around the clearing, and your eyes came to rest on the still form of Hallas. You crawled over to him, dragging his body onto your lap as you let out a scream raw with grief. You let yourself sob as you cradled him, rocking back and forth, but pulled yourself back a few minutes later, knowing that you needed to be thinking rationally.

If the shadow had slaughtered everyone at the Sarn Fords, then its comrades that you had seen riding off earlier had probably caught the Rangers sent to warn Aragorn, the chief. So it was up to you now.

You crept through the trees, making sure to stay silent as you made your way to the clearing, about five miles from the fords, where you’d left your horse, praying that the shadows hadn’t found him as well. Nahar, for that was his name, was peacefully grazing on the grass. You almost broke down at the sight of him but settled with stroking his velvety nose before swinging into the saddle. You knew you had to tell Aragorn, and you knew he was in Bree, so you tugged on the reins and Nahar set off at a brisk stride, living up to his namesake.

While you rode, you scoured your brain trying to figure out the shadows, ignoring your grief as best as you could. Some things were more important than sorrow. They were like nothing you had ever seen before, the fear that had crept over you was like nothing you had ever felt before. You thought back over stories you had heard, tales from your childhood. The Ringwraiths. It hit you, and you quickly nudged Nahar into a gallop.

You had arrived at Bree to find the town reeling. The shadows had appeared there two nights after you had fought one, and Aragorn, or as they knew him, Strider, had left that same night. Knowing that he was headed to Rivendell, you refused the night’s rest that had been offered to you and set off again.

Swinging out of the saddle, you handed Nahar’s reins to a startled stablehand and tore through the halls of Rivendell, heading for the terrace where you knew at least someone would be.

You heard shouting, and spun around the last corner, passing two small hobbits, and ran down the steps, seeing a small crowd gathered on the terrace. Not caring, you burst through the circle to skid to a halt in front of your chief.

“Aragorn!” You collapsed at his feet. “The nine walk again. Mordor has awoken.”

A silence fell, broken by the voice of another hobbit. “I will take it.” Everyone turned towards him. “I will take the Ring to Mordor.”

As he spoke, you glanced at the pedestal in the center of the group and saw a golden ring resting there. You recalled more tales from your youth, of great power and twenty rings, and put the pieces together. The one ring.

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.” You watched as Aragorn strode over to the hobbit, kneeling before him. “You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow.” A tall, blond elf stepped forward.

“And my axe!” A red-bearded dwarf joined him.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done.” A tall man stepped forward, joining them.

You started as a hobbit appeared from your left, and then two more, all lining up as if forming ranks for battle.

“Nine companions,” declared Lord Elrond, “so be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

They all stood there, looking very regal and such until you rose from the seat next to Aragorn where you had been catching your breath.

“I shall join you.” You walked over, intending to join their little formation, but Aragorn grabbed your shoulder as you stood next to him.

“Y/N. You cannot. You must rejoin our kin by Sarn Fords.”

You held back tears at the name of the place. “They are all dead.”

You heard gasps at your words.

You watched Aragorn’s face as the realization sunk in. “Hallas?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to speak.

“Oh, Y/N.” He quickly gathered you into his arms, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from breaking down right then.

You heard a cough and quickly stepped back, composing yourself.

“I suppose you shall be ten companions, then. Very well, I do not see the difference from nine.” You nodded your thanks to Elrond as the council dissipated, the members of the newly formed Fellowship heading off in pairs or groups of three. As they headed off, Aragorn quickly drew you to the side.

“I have to go speak with Gandalf.” You blinked back tears again at the prospect of being alone but nodded at him.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” You watched him jog to catch up with the wizard, greeting him with a smile. You sat back onto the bench. Hallas had never been to Rivendell, you were always sent to retrieve Aragorn or deal with the elves, but he had always wanted to. Looking around at the splendor you had become accustomed to, you finally let the tears pour, bowing your head as you mourned your brother, your better half.

A soft shuffling sound caught your attention. You lifted your head, blinking to clear the tears as the blurry figure of the blond elf came into focus. He was approaching from your left, which explained why you hadn’t noticed him until then. You felt a small bit of shame at not noticing, you prided yourself on your skills making up for your lack of sight but dismissed it.

“Y/N, right?”

You nodded.

“Aragorn has told me much about you. I’m Legolas.” He sat next to you. “Do you need to talk about it?”

You automatically started to shake your head before pausing. You would be traveling with him, Aragorn trusted him, and you really needed some sort of comfort.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke. “I was one of the Dunedain holding Sarn Ford against the nine.”

The concern clear in his eyes encouraged you to continue.

“I tried to stop them, but they killed everyone. My brother…” and on that word, your voice broke, and you tried to keep yourself from dissolving into sobs again. His hand started tracing soothing circles across your back, and you kept going.

“My brother Hallas was the last to die. It killed him right in front of me, I was powerless to stop it.”

Your thin thread of control over yourself snapped, and you let the grief take over again. The elf beside you was dismayed as you buried your head in your arms, body wracked with sobs. He gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and drew you in so that you were leaning into him, face now buried in his chest as he continued to move his hand across your back.

Legolas held you until your sobs died down into hiccups as you slowly regained control. You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry, Legolas, I did not mean for that to happen.”

His hand on your shoulder forced you to look into his eyes.

“It is alright. You needed comfort, and I was happy to provide it.”

“Does it get any easier?” You needed to hear the answer, needed to know if this pain would ever go away.

“No. It never does. I have watched as many friends died, and been powerless to save them. But I’ve come to learn that the best thing we can do to honor their memories is to not dwell on how we could not save them, but to live lives they would be proud of.”

Gazing up at him, you mulled over his words as he blinked back tears of his own.

“That is very wise.”

He forced a small chuckle. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

“No, truly. Thank you for that. It helps.”

He smiled. Not a big smile, but one of acknowledgment. You smiled back. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and drew you close again.

You sat there together for hours, together in your grief as preparations were made for departure. He mourned with you, and you with him, for losses old and new.

everything tag💖: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

legolas tag: @sheriffgerard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl

series tag: @claraofthepen @sheriffgerard

lmk if you want to be added to a taglist for this series!

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spiritofcamelot · 4 years

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Rewatching LOTR

My friend was incredibly kind and sent me a box set of LOTR extended edition DVDs and so I’m taking this weekend to rewatch. I haven’t seen these in so long, but I have a feeling 2020 is going to be the year I return to my first fandom.

So, because I can, a random thread of things I notice upon this rewatch follows:

Fellowship

I realised that Iseildur gets killed by being shot in the back 3 times while Boromir dies by getting shot in the front 3 times. Both two men that have desired the ring, but one was betrayed by it, and one overcame its seduction. (eventually and a bit too late but still)

The fireplace in Bag End is circular and its adorable!

I love the montage that introduces the Hobbits so much. Everything is so peaceful and quaint and simple. And everyone has the curliest hair imaginable.

I freaking love the wizard duel. Nothing flashy, no fire. Just shoving like schoolboys on the playground.

No character introduction can compare to Aragorn’s intro. Just the best.

Okay now I’ve been playing too much D&D cause when the ring is on it seems like casting Blink and being able to partly see the ethereal plane while seeing the normal plane in grey.

Aragorn totally turned away to hide a smile at their insistence on second breakfast. He’s watched the Shire too long not to know.

How much money does Saruman spend on jewelry and piercings for the uruk-hai? One dude’s got like twenty nose rings.

Okay the answer is probably ‘because Gandalf told him to look out for Frodo’ but why does Aragorn already have four short swords to give to the hobbits t Wweathertop? Or it’s cause he’s an overprepared Dunedain who knows that swords can get broke.

Elrond’s bookshelves look gorgeous. I want them.

I freaking love Aragorn’s tunic that looks like chainmail. So very elflike.

Peter Jackson really likes those extra close-ups that just show people’s eyes. Which, fair. Everyone acts so well AND has pretty eyes.

lol Gandalf just spouts the black tongue and and all the elves are in pain and exasperated by him. its great.

Elrond, its hardly a secret council if you hold it in the open.

ah frick. Extended edition means two disks. Guess I’ll start a new post too.

#Lin watches LOTR #LOTR

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frazzledsoul · 4 years

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So I kind of wanted to follow up with my comments yesterday about hardcore ASOIAF fans and their contention that Jon Snow's life has no meaning.

Out of all of the crazy factions in GoT/ASOIAF fandom, I have had the worst problems with the ASOIAF Jonsa/Jon Snow side. They have actively discouraged me from reading further into ASOIAF than a few chapters into ACOK.

I got into a dust-up with several of those fans on here a few months ago for contending that I preferred Show!Jon to Book!Jon as they described him: a ruthless, elitist, Machiavellian character who only pretended to like the Wildings and never loved Ygritte and was a better person than Show!Jon because of those characteristics. I stated that I didn't want to read further about Book!Jon if he was like that and that Show!Jon certainly did not feel that way about Ygritte/The Wildings. I was then told that Book!Jon and Show!Jon were exactly the same character despite Book!Jon being superior (wha?) and I was too stupid to like either of them or to read the books.

I filled in the time I spent not reading ASOIAF by devouring everything in the Jonmund tag. However, I am kind of terrified at this point to get further into ASOIAF because of the culture that has grown up around Book!Jon. I don't at all trust what GRRM will do to him.

There definitely is an elitist mindset to some of these types of fans: Jon must end up in some sort of royal/exalted position or at least on the Wall because he must continue to serve Westeros. Certainly he shouldn't choose to associate himself with those dirty, ugly, trash that call themselves the Free Folk. And since they won't entertain the notion of him leaving the Wall, he must be completely miserable there, doomed forever to suffer for his crimes alone in a place that he hates.

I can't speak for how Book!Jon will view the situation, but none of this bears any connection whatsoever to what happened to Jon in the show.

I've stated many times that I won't deal with Wall Truthers (aka people who believe Jon goes back to the wall). If you needed for Jon to change his clothes while still at the Wall, be explicitly told he was not in the Night's Watch anymore and was a free man, and for him to openly declare he was not coming back after he left with the Wildings in order to believe it, I can't help you. That wasn't the situation Bran and Tyrion set up and Jon really couldn't leave under those terms. This was a quiet desertion or perhaps a release from his vows (hence Jon looking back at the gates one final time and then smiling to himself) once Jon left.

However, let's play Devil's Advocate and assume that Jon stays in the Watch. Is this really such a horrible fate for him?

When Jon is saying goodbye to his siblings to depart for the Wall, he looks happier and more relaxed than he has since the feast in 8.04. He is smiling. He's looking forward to Arya visiting him! He doesn't seem devastated at all.

When he actually gets to the Wall, Tormund is waiting for him. The Free Folk welcome him and are delighted to see him. He jubilantly reunites with Ghost. The Night's Watch open the gates for them to leave, and Jon smiles to himself after he looks back and leads them into the wilderness.

None of any of that seems to indicate that he is miserable. Quite the contrary. Even if Jon goes back, his primary job would be to trade with the Wildings and help them get settled in their communities. He'd still have Ghost. He'd still get to take plenty of naps. He would get to range beyond the Wall like he wanted to do when he first got there. It is not half as terrible as many of Jon's "fans" want it to be.

Now, I don't think any of that happened. I think that look back to the gates was significant, and Jon knew once he rode behind them that he wasn't going back. He'll be allowed to quietly desert and as long as he stays in exile, no one is going to care very much. He'll fade into Wildling society, free of courts and worldly politics and have the life that Show!Jon expressly stated he wanted.

He'll have friends, his dog, Tormund, the chance for leadership if he wants. It's a great life.

(and yes, Wall Truthers, I'm sure that interview you read with the crafts services lady or the assistant key grip stating that Jon goes back to the Wall is just awesome, but in the end I do trust Kit's opinion on what happened a lot more as well as what I saw as the credits rolled and I don't think when the script said that Jon would lead the Wildings that they just meant on a field trip)

The problem I have here is that even though I can imagine ADOS ending this way with Val by Jon's side instead of Tormund (it is likely this plot point came from GRRM) I know that ASOIAF fans will hate it because of the screeching they've already done. Jon didn't become King, he wasn't the one to vanquish the Others, he ended up with a happy life amongst the friends who appreciated him?!? What a load of crap, right? He might as well stay dead. In fact, many of them now hope he does stay dead. His role in this fandom is to be battered over between Jonerys and Jonsa and Aragorn!Jon stans, with little credence given to his own desires and opinions.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here wondering what was so wrong with giving Jon Snow exactly what he wanted in life.

I know ASOIAF should be finished but won't be. I know that Jaime/Brienne fans in particular need a better resolution to their storyline. But it also pains me that Jon's best moments in seasons 5 and 6 belonged to that daughter-sacrificing religious fanatic Stannis, and it really chafes at me that he's going to take back Winterfell instead of Jon and Sansa. I don't see the book giving Jon a better ending even if GRRM gets around to it. Maybe it's just as well that he doesn't.

#i just want my bean to be happy #and even if they didn't give us the jonmund sex scene we deserved #he at least got what he wanted #jon snow #asoiaf #lol that rant was long coming #anyone claiming jon needs to stay dead can eff off

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kumeko · 4 years

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Title: the act of living

A/N: For lynndyre, for a lotr exchange! I’m not happy about the first two pieces in this fic, but I think the rest came out decently enough. :/ I really liked the prompt of post-canon, of what comes after, and making it bitter but also hopeful.

…

i. Gondor

Despite all the damage to it, Gondor stood strong. It had always done so; years of facing enemy after enemy had weathered it into a resilient place, capable of shaking off injury and keeping a united front. Its people were even more so, their faces as sturdy as the stone that made the city.

This was a comforting thought when directed at their enemies. Less so when it was directed at himself. There were many ways Aragorn thought the people of Gondor would treat him but even the cool indifference of a stranger would have been preferred to the harsh front to an intruder. It was even more apparent when Aragorn rode through the streets, surveying the damage with Faramir and Pippin. As their horses trotted slowly down the winding streets, as they catalogued the various repairs they had to make, Aragorn could feel his people’s eyes on him. For the most part, their gaze was hard, their lips thin, jaw set. The occasional citizen would give him a tentative smile and wave, but the overwhelming feeling was this:

Who are you to rule us?

A fair question, perhaps. It wasn’t like he’d grown up here, it wasn’t like they were expecting the king to return. It wasn’t fair to just push him forward as a king in the middle of a war and expect everything to be fine after. Not that Aragorn was sure what he was expecting; he had never wanted this position in the first place.

“It’s not that bad,” Pippin chirped. Seated in front of Aragorn, he glanced up at him. For a moment, Aragorn thought the hobbit had read his mind. “It’ll take a little muscle and spit, but we’ll clean it all up.”

Ah, that made more sense. His friend had thought his dark mood was over the destruction. However clumsy it was, Aragorn was grateful for Pippin’s kindness and he smiled. “Certainly.”

“The people of Gondor are not one to back away from a challenge,” Faramir said from his right. He sat straight on his horse and while there was still something ghostly about him, he looked proud. “We have weathered attacks before. This will be no different.”

“Really?” Pippin furrowed his brows, disbelief on his face. “You guys have fought orcs and wraiths and all of that?”

“Well, perhaps nothing that bad,” Faramir admitted with a chuckle.

“Thought so.” Pippin snorted derisively. “No way anyone can just rebuild after all that.” He gestured at a pile of rubble nearby, soldiers and local citizens creating a chain as they shifted giant rocks to a wooden cart. “Not without a lot of help.”

“Fortunately the elves are assisting,” Faramir answered, glancing at Aragorn with a wry smile. “They said to consider it a wedding present of sorts.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly. “Arwen.” He glanced at the clean up crew once more. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the odd elf in the group, examining the debris and finding the right rock to move next. The folk regarded the elves warily but begrudging accepted the assistance. “How long have they been here?”

“Over a week.” Faramir smiled wryly. “It was a little odd at first but the people have come around to it now.”

“Have they?” Aragorn glanced at Pippin and thought of Boromir. Of Legolas and Gimli. The oddest of companions that were now the closest of friends. There were things that you could only learn by working next to someone, to watching them toil away with you. He tightened his grip on his reins, pulling his horse to a stop.

“Huh?” Pippin thudded against his chest at the sudden stop. Bemused, he stared up. “See something?”

“More of a realization.” Aragorn slipped off his mount. “I’ll go help out.”

He was never the sort to watch from a distance anyways. Aragorn had gotten this far through hard work. This kingship would be no different.

ii. Rohan

“Wow.” Merry stared at the garlands strung up around the Meduseld, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Unexpected, isn’t it?” Eowyn chuckled, amused by her companion’s amazement. To be perfectly honest, she had looked the same earlier. It had been too long since flowers lined the halls of her forefathers, since the cold grey had been washed over with warmth of a blaze and good company. The trifecta of loss, a poisonous influence, and war had left her home less than it ought to have been.

Now, finally, it was returned to its former glory.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you guys even had flowers,” Merry chirped, examining a wreath on the wall. There was a long silence and then his ears burned a bright red as he realized what he’d said. Turning around, fidgeted nervously. “Not that that’s a bad thing—it looked very noble before—we just have a lot of flowers—”

Eowyn laughed, cutting him off as he cycled through excuses. “No, no, it is understandable. We haven’t had flowers in here for a long time.”

“Oh.” Feeling relieved, Merry smoothened down his shirt with a pleased smile. “It looks good.”

“We’re celebrating our harvest and the end of the war, so I thought we could brighten the place.” Eowyn gestured at the torches that lit up every few metres, ensuring that no darkness pervaded her home. It felt a lot more like it did when she was younger, when her brother used to chase her through these halls and her uncle…

She paused at the thought. He would have liked how it looked, praised her with his gentle smile and kind words.

Eowyn wished she could have seen it. That he could have seen this. Loss, she found, sprung up in the most unexpected of places and every time it took her breath away.

Unaware of her shifting emotions, Merry replied, “So this isn’t everyday? We have flowers everywhere at home, so it’s strange to find places without it.”

He was smiling up at her, bright and unassuming, and Eowyn shook herself out of her thoughts. Her uncle wouldn’t want her to linger, the way he had lingered over her cousin’s death. The best way to honour him was to keep moving forward. Looking down, Eowyn asked “Is that so? I have never seen that many flowers.”

“Well, not everywhere everywhere—definitely not on the toilets cause that’s weird but everywhere else.” Merry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And maybe not on the paths. The proper ones, that is—the ones that we aren’t supposed to take are chock full of weeds.”

“The ones that get you in trouble?” Eowyn teased, having heard plenty of stories about angry farmers and vegetables.

“It’s only trouble if you get caught!” Merry retorted, crossing his arms. “And I almost never get caught.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that.” Eowyn chuckled. Every description Merry gave of his homeland gave a warm impression. It sounded like place that would produce such wonderful hobbits, such wonderful heroes. “Perhaps I should see for myself?”

Even Farmer Maggot sounded fun to meet. Especially since she wouldn’t be robbing him.

iii. Mirkwood

“I did not expect you to come all the way here,” Thrandruil drawled, each word carefully articulated as though each one was a jab from one of his guard’s spears. Walking through a well-maintained path in Mirkwood, his gaze was ever upward, giving one the impression he was barely paying attention to his companion.

Celeborn knew better than to fall for that. Thrandruil was always alert to his surroundings, however he might act, and it would take one wrong word, one false step to be barred from returning to the forest elves’ realm. “I heard the forest had cleared and thought it was a good time to visit.”

That wasn’t a lie—the forest was brighter than it had been in centuries. The spiders were finished, their webs burned through, and starlight once more graced the elves as they frolicked in the night. Mirkwood was beautiful again.

“It has,” Thranduil admitted with a regal nod of his head. His brow furrowed and scornfully he added, “Though it is the age of man, so who knows how long this shall last.”

“So many elves have departed these days,” Celeborn sighed. “Lothlórien feels emptier these days, as does Rivendell.”

“As expected. They were never tied to the land like we are,” Thrandruil spit out, contemptuous. “I am only surprised they didn’t leave earlier.”

He should have expected that remark. Despite the time that had passed, Thrandruil’s pride was infamous and it seemed nothing could change that. “You aren’t going to answer the call?”

“One day, maybe.” Thrandriul shrugged dismissively. “Perhaps when my son is tired of playing with dwarves and the sea. Until then, this is my kingdom and I will not abandon it while it still stands.”

“As expected.” Celeborn chuckled. “Galadriel is also considering leaving.”

“And you?” Thrandruil looked at him now, his brow raised curiously. “What will you do?”

“I will join her.” Celeborn clasped his hands behind him, looking up at the starlight through the trees. It glinted off nearby goblets and here still the sound laughter and life existed. “But not for some time. Lothlórien has lost its shine and diminished. Rivendell is a tomb.” He glanced at Thrandruil. “Is there room for another here?”

Thrandruil smiled.

iv. Rivendell

“You look worn, old friend.” Elrond didn’t look up as Gandalf stood next to him. Despite the physical changes underwent, his voice remained ever the same, as did the comfort in his presence. “What troubles you?”

“Things that are beyond my control.” Elrond sighed. Standing on a terrace, he watched from a distance as his daughter read a book on a bench. How much longer would he be able to witness that sight? How much longer could he just simply open his mouth and call her?

“Ah.” Gandalf studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. “You made your choice long ago. And though you do not want to admit it, so had she.”

“I should have realized it the moment they met.” Elrond frowned, closing his eyes. “I had hoped otherwise. Her path will be a painful one, a long one, and there will be no one to comfort her in the end.”

“You are not staying then?” Gandalf asked, his brow raised.

“No, I do not think I can bear to see her hair grow white. And I do not want my sons to change their mind because of their love for the Dúnedain. Besides, already the world is changing.” Elrond smiled wistfully. “There is no room for our kind anymore. It is better to accept it and leave now.” Before their images of the world was tarnished, before he could see the old places wrought with ruin. He had seen what man made, what man could do, and while there were great creations, there were more often than not ruinous. Only the dwarves could match them for greed.

“Then fret not.” Gandalf squeezed his shoulder. “There are others here to comfort her. Thrandruil—” Elrond snorted. “—I know you do not like him, but he and Celeborn will still be here when her time comes. She will not go alone, forgotten and unloved.”

Elrond glanced at Gandalf. “And you?”

“Perhaps.” Gandalf only smiled mysteriously. “I cannot say where I will be or not in the years to come.”

“Father!” Before Elrond could question him further, Arwen waved to him, a smile on her face.

There would be plenty of time to interrogate a dodgy wizard in the future. For now, he wanted to soak in every moment with Arwen he could. There would be so few of them and his years too long after.

v. Shire

It was strange how empty the Baggins’ home was. Samwise had taken care of it for years and had helped his father for it even longer. It had been customary to find white-haired Bilbo in the gardens, writing the next page of his manuscript. Or Frodo puttering about, laughing about the latest prank Merry and Pippin had pulled.

Now the gardens ran wild, left unattended during their mission. That was something Sam could fix. Something he would fix.

Something he couldn’t do anything about was how silent the rooms inside were. No fire crackled in the hearth, inviting one to rest their feet and stay a spell. There was no welcoming greeting when the door opened, no soft swear from trying to open a too tight jar of walnuts. Just complete and utter silence.

Sam stood at the foyer, not sure if he should go further in or not. It had been one thing when Frodo had left him the key to the place, another thing entirely to use it. He could just sell it but Frodo’s history, his own history was too deeply tied to it.

What to do?

Sam took a deep breath. The air smelled musty from disuse. Frodo wasn’t here anymore. He was across the sea with the elves. A place Sam could go, if he wanted to. Another decision he wasn’t ready to make. Pulling out the key, he quickly slipped out of the hole and locked it behind him.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d figure out what he wanted to do with this place. To do with himself.

Today Rosie was at the pub and Merry and Pippin would be back from their travels and he could just soak in the act of living.

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the-light-followed · 4 years

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THE LIGHT FANTASTIC (1986) [DISC. #2; RINCEWIND #2]

“What shall we do?’ said Twoflower. ‘Panic?’ said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry sabre-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying ‘What a magnificent brute!’ and ‘Here, pussy.”

Rating: 5/10

Standalone Okay: No

Read First: ABSOLUTELY NO.

Discworld Books Masterpost: [x]

* * * * * * * * * *

If The Colour of Magic is a bad place to start reading Discworld, The Light Fantastic is 100% worse. Not because it’s bad, because it’s absolutely an improvement on its predecessor. It’s just that The Colour of Magic ends on a cliffhanger (only in the metaphorical sense; in the literal sense, Rincewind has just fallen off the cliff). The Light Fantastic picks up exactly where it left off, with only a little exposition or explanation to soften the shift from one to the next. I tend to think of The Light Fantastic as more like The Colour of Magic: Part 2, Now We’re Getting Somewhere, because, well, now we’re getting somewhere.

Folks, we finally have a cohesive, over-arching plot! We have stakes greater than “let’s not get killed by this latest thing that wants us dead!” We have purpose, and drive, and successful barbarian heroes so old they lack teeth and have to make dentures out of diamond, and I love absolutely every bit of it!

In what will quickly become obvious is the norm for him, Rincewind’s life continues to be a series of upsetting things happening one after the other. Some highlights from The Light Fantastic include:

Being forcibly teleported (back) onto the Disc by the parasitically-attached Great Spell living in his brain, after falling over the Rimfall. Reality is completely rewritten to do this, but everything remains exactly the same except Rincewind’s new position clinging to the top of a pine tree. (Twoflower gets dropped back onto the Disc as well, but that seems mostly incidental.)

Going to the land of Death while still alive, picking up his mostly-dead friend, and running right back out to the land of the living.

Camping in the mouth of a giant troll the size of a mountain, while being held captive by mercenaries. Somehow only the mercenaries end up dead.

Being attacked by wizards and Things from the Dungeon Dimensions, and fighting said wizards and Things in life-or-death battles.

Using the most powerful magical book on the Disc, possibly the most magical item full-stop, and then afterwards, allowing said item to be eaten by the carnivorous sentient Luggage for safekeeping. Rincewind ends up owning the Luggage before the end of the story—so technically, he still has this wildly dangerous book.

Oh, and saving the world, of course. He also does that.

I love, love, love the way Pratchett writes ‘heroes’ vs. how he writes his protagonists. Absolutely none of his protagonists are the stereotypical hero, and his stories are better for it.

Quick sidetrack to define terms: when I say ‘stereotypical hero,’ I’m talking about the kind of lawful good protagonists you see in most high fantasy adventure stories or superhero comics, the stuff with worldwide or even cosmic stakes. They’re typically well-trained or have some kind of special skills, or they acquire special training/skills along the way. They almost always set out specifically to save the world, and typically do not have any ulterior motives beyond it being ‘the right thing to do.’ Usually, they’re strong and rugged manly men with impressive jawlines. I’m talking Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. I’m talking Captain America and Superman. I’m talking the real Boy Scout types.

Truth, justice, and apple pie—or whatever the regional-specific pastry of choice might be!

Pratchett’s heroes are not that. They’re cowards. They’re scared or confused or unprepared, or making the whole thing up as they go along. They’re fools, alcoholics, con men. They’re salty old ladies and know-it-all young girls. If there is a stereotypical hero-type character, they’re going to be a foil for the actual main character, and they won’t stay perfectly pure and uncomplicated for long—I’m thinking specifically Carrot, though we’ll talk about him later when we get to the City Watch books.

Here, what we get is Rincewind. And he is as far from a stereotypical hero as it is possible to be, probably because he would have started sprinting full-speed away from the thought before anyone finished saying it out loud. Rincewind doesn’t save the world because he suddenly found his courage, or developed bonus superpowers, or found some kind of magical sword to do the fighting for him. (He actually found the sword back in The Colour of Magic, hated every second of it, and got rid of it as soon as possible. Goodbye and good riddance to Kring the magic sword.) He hasn’t secretly had the courage inside of himself all along.

Rincewind saves the world because he’s got nowhere left to run, and that’s excellent.

I’m going to save a lot of my rambling about Pratchett’s deconstruction of the concept of ‘heroes’ for when I get to Guards! Guards! and later City Watch books, since Carrot is, like I said, both the main example and the central thesis. But it is very important for everyone to understand: for me, nothing is more satisfying from a literary perspective than knowing that, at the end of the Discworld series, coward and hero-only-by-accident-or-mistake Rincewind is one of the two people in contention for the spot as ‘ultimate savior of the world, the universe, and all of existence.’ The other is a teenage girl.

Honestly, the only reason I think Rincewind might edge her out for the title is because he technically saved a slightly larger slice of reality with this whole escapade. In Tiffany’s defense, I’m 98% sure she hadn’t been born yet when this whole thing went down, so we really can’t blame her for not solving it first. If she were there, she’d have it handled, and that’s just objective truth.

But Rincewind. Rincewind. At the end of The Light Fantastic, the dude’s spent two whole books screaming and running whenever something tries to kill/maim/eat/threaten him. The audience has absolutely figured out by this point that while he’s smart and sarcastic and surprisingly speedy, he’s totally useless in a conflict. His priority is saving his own skin, not dashing feats of derring-do or whatever it is heroes are supposed to do.

And yet with the end of the world looming, his back against the wall, and no real place left to run, when the Big Baddie demands that he give up the last Great Spell, the one last thing preventing the immediate destruction of everything and everyone, we get this from Rincewind:

“If it stops anywhere, it stops here, thought Rincewind. ‘You’ll have to take it,’ he said. ‘I won’t give it to you.’”

And that’s it. That’s what saves the world. Not a stereotypical hero, not a hero of legend, not a mythic champion showing up for a final glorious battle—it’s a Pratchett hero. It’s an everyday guy, a coward and a failure, dragged in by accident and against his will. It’s an average person, nothing really special, who looks at something that he knows is wrong and that he’s sure will hurt him for disobeying. And yet he still says no. It stops here.

Even rats fight back, as Rincewind himself says.

This is the moment that really sells me on Rincewind’s character, every time. Even before Pratchett was really taking Rincewind or the Discworld seriously, even while the whole thing is still one massive joke more often than not, he’s still given the readers a POV character who feels believably real. He’s scared shitless, he’s tired, he’s sarcastic, and he doesn’t want to be there. But that’s too damn bad, because he’s the one there, and if he doesn’t do this, no one else will.

And maybe Rincewind’s not Superman, but he still does it. He succeeds, he saves the day, and—despite everything—he’s somehow the hero of this story. Screaming all the way, maybe, but he still gets it done.

[Paul Kidby does incredible Discworld art, including some of the amazing cover art for the books. You can find a lot of it on his website— www.paulkidby.com. This one,The Colour of Magic, stars Rincewind, Twoflower, and their dramatic escape from the Wyrmberg.]

While we’re on the subject of heroes, we can’t skip over Cohen the Barbarian, who makes his debut here in The Light Fantastic. Now, Cohen is technically a hero, but this is still not in the ‘stereotypical hero’ sense—it’s literally his job. It’s the thing he writes in the little box marked ‘Occupation’ on his tax forms, or at least it would be if he actually paid any taxes. Or if he actually wrote things down.

For Cohen, being a hero is how he makes a profit and pays the bills, and he is very, very good at it. That’s 100% objective truth, and I know that for sure, because the man is old as the hills and still gets into life-or-death fights about twice a day, and that’s the sort of thing that gets you dead very quickly if you aren’t very good at what you do.

But Cohen still isn’t a stereotypical hero. He does a lot of looting and pillaging, and his body count over the Rincewind books is—wow, it’s up there. It’s a real doozy. It’s hard to call his work heroism when it’s hardly a smidge to the left of repeated, outright murder. I’ll probably circle back around to this in Interesting Times and The Last Hero, because there are some really interesting points made there about the ways that Cohen and his contemporaries play at heroes and villains like they’re a sort of performance they’re putting on rather than a moral act or a choice made out of necessity. But I will say now that putting Cohen in the same storylines as Rincewind really does put both characters into a more complex and interesting light. Rincewind, the coward-not-hero, and Cohen, the fearless warrior, can kind of play off of each other.

It just goes to show Pratchett’s grasp of people as people, and not unidimensional cardboard cutouts. Nobody’s always right. Nobody is always wrong. And real people don’t always stand up to perfect, pure concepts of what we think they should be.

Also, since Cohen is about a billion years old, we get little gems like his toothless lisp before he picks up some dentures, a concept that Twoflower brings with him from the Counterweight Continent. (Or, as Cohen calls them, dine chewers. That, friends, is a pune, or a play on words.) Also, because he’s Cohen and therefore a dramatic bastard, the dentures are solid diamond. It’s not as if the man can’t afford it, I guess?

I do want to take a little side trip into some other new details that pop up in The Light Fantastic, specifically the more in-depth stuff about Unseen University and the wizards. The wizards are a lot of fun in the early Discworld books, specifically if you’re really bloodthirsty, because up until Ridcully arrives in Moving Pictures there’s quite a lot of turnover in Unseen University staff. The wizards are backstabbing bastards early on, and it’s almost jarring to compare the shifty, power-hungry jerks in The Light Fantastic and Sourcery to the fat, lazy hedonists they’ll become. We do get an impression of them as a collective that will stay pretty consistent as we move forward: their values, their skills, the way they do magic.

This is important not only because it establishes a lot of lasting detail for stories involving Rincewind, the University, and the city of Ankh-Morpork, but also because we’re about to get our first glimpse of the witches. (Hey-o, here comes Equal Rites!) With a lot of this stuff mapped out in advance, it makes it easier to run a compare-and-contrast of what’s going on with the two main schools of magic users on the Disc, what’s different between them, what’s the same—and the positives and negatives in them both. (Again, hey-o, Equal Rites! That all is about to be the whole damn point.)

I think it’s also fun to note that The Light Fantastic features the brief run of Galder Weatherwax as Archchancellor of the Unseen University, A.K.A. He Who Dies So Granny Weatherwax Can Have His Frankly Excellent Name. Granny Weatherwax is the steel-souled spine of the witches, and the driving force of their run of books, and it’s kind of hilarious to think that Terry Pratchett did the writer’s equivalent of digging through a graveyard to give her a name. This theft is later lampshaded and then ignored; Granny says something briefly about Galder Weatherwax being a distant cousin she barely knew, and the whole thing is never mentioned again from then on out. I can’t exactly remember where, and it might even have been in a short story or one of the side books Pratchett eventually put together, not in a novel. Honestly, who cares—Granny Weatherwax is such a force of nature that it only takes a few minutes to forget that her name ever could have belonged to anyone but herself.

But Granny Weatherwax is not a discussion for The Light Fantastic. It’s time to move on to Equal Rites!

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Side Notes:

This is the book where the Unseen University Librarian is changed into an orangutan. It happens early on in a magical accident, as the grimoire containing the Eight Great Spells attempts to save Rincewind and the spell trapped in his mind, and he is never reverted to human form.

He is referenced but does not appear in The Colour of Magic.

At no point anywhere in the Discworld does he appear in human form. At no point does he have lines in human language. He is never named. At no point is he described as he was prior to this change, except that the orangutan he becomes is initially said to look “like the head librarian,” so presumably he was already a bit orangutan-ish.

For something as weird as this is, and for something with such long-lasting repercussions, it is treated in the moment as a thing of very little importance—except, of course, that now he has to be paid in bananas. I find this absolutely delightful.

Tim Curry plays the wizard Trymon in the BBC miniseries The Colour of Magic, which combines The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic. Trymon only appears in The Light Fantastic in the books, and I can’t read it anymore without picturing Tim Curry in his ridiculous robes and shoes, with his ridiculous overdramatic murder plots, working his way up to the top just to die a ridiculous death.

No, really. Look at this hat. Look at this goatee. Only Tim Curry has the acting chops to pull this off.

Death once again appears, and this time we also get to see his house and his daughter, Ysabell! I can see why it didn’t take long to go from here to Mort: the concept is way too good to leave to little snatches and side appearances.

Krysoprase the troll shows up for the first time in this book. Later, he’ll be known as Chrysoprase, and will make appearances in several other Discworld novels: Feet of Clay, Wyrd Sisters, and, notably, Thud. There’s also a troll named Breccia in The Light Fantastic; Breccia will become the name of Chrysoprase’s gang in Ankh-Morpork.

While going through my copy of The Light Fantastic to work on this post, I glanced at the cover and briefly thought I was losing my mind. At the bottom, there’s a blurb talking about beloved Discworld character “Conan the Barbarian”—but up until that moment I was 100% certain the beloved barbarian on the Disc was named “Cohen.” Turns out I’m not crazy, it’s just that the literal cover of the book decides to make a reference to the character that Cohen is parodying rather than to Cohen himself. And this is the 2008 print edition, not an early run or a badly-assembled e-reader edition, which means it’s being released by a professional publishing company a full 22 years after the original novel came out. It’s not like nobody’s had time to look over the material and do some copy-editing.

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Favorite Quotes:

“The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home.”

“Do you think there’s anything to eat in this forest?” “Yes,” said the wizard bitterly, “us.”

“Not for the first time she reflected that there were many drawbacks to being a swordswoman, not least of which was that men didn't take you seriously until you'd actually killed them, by which time it didn't really matter anyway.”

“Are you a hero, actually?” “Um, no. Not as such. Not at all, really. Even less than that, in fact.”

#discworld #rincewind #the light fantastic

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