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#based on that lotr post

lambertslambstew · 2 years

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LAMBCEPTIONNNN!!!

#Lambert #witcher 3 #lol #based on that lotr post

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rthwrms · 6 months

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idk maybe just me but grimdark fantasy man missed the point of lotr

#have an extremely specific meme based on that one post #lord of the rings #lotr

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achillyscomedown · 4 months

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boromir trying to engage in conversation after the fellowship was formed:

boromir: alright, which one of you is merry and which one of you is pippin?

merry:

pippin:

boromir:

merry:

pippin:

boromir:

boromir: okay, let’s try that again and pretend you guys aren’t weird-

#i love the lotr post on here abt how good the fellowship is at telling merry and pippin apart #or rather how bad i should say #like that’s so real #clearly theyre not *that* similar but the others would def struggle #but it’s so funny to think that the two mess up who they are too #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #incorrect quotes #this is actually based off of a 21 jump street 2012 quote #merry #pippin #merry brandybuck #pippin took #boromir #boromir son of denethor #tumblr

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reallyhardydraws · 8 months

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still very much got the watermill theatre's revival of the lord of the rings musical on the brain... cannot stop thinking about the 4 hobbits and every time they all rushed to cuddle each other i just i cannot 😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖😭💖

[commissions open!] ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#the lord of the rings: a musical tale #LOTR musical #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin took #this is based on a photo by pamela raith but crossed with a screenshot from the show clips the watermill posted #draws

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peearrdee · 1 year

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headcanon that Sally is like God Tier of beauty for salmons and is absolutely stunning and c!wilbur is like, for an avian, absolute butt ugly like (relatively) featherless and everyones always like Sally how could you marry such a shit tier ugly ass bird and Sally is like ach.. nae…i love him

#prd talks #based on that one lotr post #sally the salmon #salbur #dsmpshipping

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rohirric-hunter · 1 year

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Whoever first made the claim that "Faramir" means "Sufficient jewel" had better hope I don't find them, or I'm gonna fill their shoes with pondscum every day for the rest of their lives

Tolkien never provided a direct translation, but if we are to assume that the name is in reference to the Quenya "jewel," mire, as Boromir's presumably is (Tolkien never provided a direct translation for that either, but the translation is clearer in that case), then the sufficient bit is assumed to be adapted from far, meaning "enough." However a far more likely source would be fara, meaning to hunt or chase in both Quenya and Sindarin, resulting in a mixed Quenya/Sindarin not-quite-grammatical-but-fitting name meaning "jewel hunter," thematically appropriate if you understand it to mean that Faramir is good at picking out gems, in possible reference to his ability to see into peoples' hearts and minds and know when they are trustworthy. Understood to mean "jewel chaser" it could be a reference to his longing for Gondor's lost glory, or perhaps the way he follows the voice of Aragorn (the Elfstone) out of the fog in the Houses of Healing.

In universe, Denethor may have had one of those meanings in mind when he picked the name. When you're a prominent public figure you don't name your kids, "The one that I like" and, "The one who sucks" for PR reasons if nothing else. Despite its hereditary monarchy, Gondor was also governed by a ruling council who more than had the authority to kick rightful rulers to the curb if they weren't wanted, and such a move would probably have made him very unpopular with the citizenry, especially when Faramir began to grow up and become quite popular in his own right. It's also made quite clear in the text that while Denethor always had the potential to be bitter and spiteful, his A+ parenting was a development directly governed by his frequent direct Skype sessions with Sauron himself that brought out his negative traits and diminished his positive ones. As Faramir was born before Denethor became the ruling Steward (and therefore before he had access to the Palantir), that can't have influenced his choice of name for the kid.

More likely, however, Denethor was simply naming him after a historical figure, the equivalent of people naming their kids "George" because of George Washington or something. So if you want to psychoanalyze anyone's use of the name based purely on its meaning then look elsewhere. (Faramir, Boromir, Denethor, and Denethor's father Ecthelion were all named after prominent historical figures. It was quite common in Gondor, and likely had little to nothing to do with the name's actual meaning.)

From a meta perspective, Tolkien may have had either of my meanings in mind, or both, or some other meaning I haven't figured out. But I can promise you for an actual fact that he did not mean, "This guy's dad thinks he's a loser, lol."

#lotr #disclaimer: i am drunk and not amazing at elvish but look #LOOK #faramir does not mean 'sUfFiCiEnT jEwEl" meet me in the FUCKING dennys parking lot #also youve gone and poisoned google while i was doing research for this rant google kept trying to convince me thats what it means #based on what? some punk ass tumblr post hot DAMN #where is the justice? where is the truth? truly we dwell in an age of deceit and darkness

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year

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Not playlist anon (obvious now I guess), but I'm going to jump on the bandwagon and ask you to talk about Little Talks for the game since it's by my favourite band ^^

Oh HECK yes Of Monsters and Men, let’s goooo!

So once again, “Little Talks” is in the playlist more for the overall emotion of the song than for any specific lyrics. There are obviously any number of interpretations you can get out of it—that’s one of the best things about OMAM songs, their artistic ambiguity—but for me, it’s one of those songs that goes into my little list of “this is what it feels like to love somebody with mental illness”.

You may notice that I picked a male cover of the song, rather than just using the original (which is exquisite and has less confusion over that one part in the second verse where the two singers’ voices overlap for one word), because it is meant to be, once again, a conversation between Frodo and Sam. Specifically, I see this as being a sort of snapshot of life in Bag End in that…what, year and a half?…after the Quest had ended and before Frodo left for Valinor. The song is sleepy, it’s tender, it’s melancholy, and it’s deeply unsettling. Whoever the two speakers are, they love each other, but something has gone very wrong in the mind of one of them, and it’s tearing the other one apart.

F: I don’t like walking around this old and empty house

S: So hold my hand, I’ll walk with you, my dear

F: The stairs creak as I sleep, it’s keeping me awake

S: It’s the house telling you to close your eyes

F: Some days I can’t even trust myself

S: It’s killing me to see you this way

For Frodo, Bag End doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s too big. Too empty. Too full of memories of a past life to which he can’t return. He has constant nightmares and frequent insomnia and can’t always be sure of his own mind. Sam offers what he always has—patient, gentle assurances, and sometimes a hand to hold—but it breaks his heart every time.

Both: ‘Cause though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Ships. The Sea. The Sea only ever means one thing. It’s a look ahead to the very end.

F: There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back

S: Well tell [him] that I miss our little talks

F: Soon it will be over and buried with our past

S: We used to play outside when we were young, and full of life and full of love

Throughout the book, Frodo has a habit of looking into the future with pessimism: he’s miserable, but at least the misery will all be over and forgotten when he’s dead. Even the past is tarnished by the pain of the present; his happy years in the Shire come back to taunt him, dancing just out of reach, where he can’t grasp them again. But Sam looks on the past with fondness and almost aggressive optimism; in the dreary desert of Mordor, he thought back to when he was young, swimming in the farm pond with Rosie and her brothers, and even here he thinks wistfully about the days when Frodo was free and whole and things were easy.

You’re gone, gone, gone away, I watched you disappear All that’s left is the ghost of you Now we’re torn, torn, torn apart, there’s nothing we can do Just let me go, we’ll meet again soon

What is this story except Sam being forced to watch Frodo slowly deteriorate; of cradling his cold body, when he thinks he’s dead, and then watching him truly die from the mind outward, which is so much worse? Sam is determined to lead a good life in the Shire, but Frodo can’t stay here any longer. He has to leave, or he won’t heal. So after walking a long, long road side by side, they’re now torn apart on the pier of the Grey Havens. “Just let me go,” whispers Frodo. “We’ll meet again soon.”

Now wait, wait, wait for me Please hang around I’ll see you when I fall asleep HEY!

The sudden, raucous crescendo here in the original recording just gets me in the throat every time. It feels like love that hurts—raw, roaring, and desperate—when saying goodbye is like a shard to the chest that’s so close to your heart you can’t remove it without risking even worse damage, so it just stays there, and your skin and muscle close and heal around it, but you’re still carrying it with you ‘til the end of your life; and even though you may go for months or years without noticing it, it still pricks and gives you pain sometimes.

(Did that metaphor end up going a lot further than I thought it would? Yes. Am I running with it regardless? Also yes.)

“Wait, wait, wait for me.” It feels like something Sam would want to shout after the ship as it pulled away, but he shut his mouth and swallowed it into his chest, because Rosie was waiting for him at home and he couldn’t go, not yet.

“Wait, wait, wait for me.” It feels like something Frodo would want to whisper from the stern; please don’t hurry, take your time, but don’t forget me.

“Wait, wait, wait for me.” I read something recently that said mortals aren’t actually made immortal by the trip to Valinor; the land is called Undying because it’s full of elves, not because it can grant immortality. I’m not a smart enough Tolkien person to know if that’s true or not, but if it is, that adds a whole other layer of agony: Bilbo would have likely passed away not long after reaching Valinor. And Frodo? Frodo wasn’t exactly a spring chicken himself. He would have been even older by the time Rosie passed away, and Sam took it into his head to leave Middle Earth. After he had found his healing—and met all the elves he wished to meet and seen all of Valinor he wished to see—what else was there for Frodo to hold on to life for?

What else, except for the vague, wild hope of a reunion?

But until then, Sam lies awake in Bag End, with Rosie at his side, staring at the ceiling. And a motif of this playlist is repeated that first popped its head up in “Dear Fellow Traveler”:

“And I’ll return to my beautiful city Black skies will change into blue And though my love is so wise and so pretty Some nights I’ll still dream of you”

I’ll see you when I fall asleep…

I’ll close my eyes and dream of you, until we meet again.

WORD ASK GAME! (kinda!)

#word ask game #song rec #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #YES my playlists have repeating motifs based on tiny similarities between the lyrics of various songs #did you think i WOULDN’T overthink it to that degree??#anyway this one is skipping the line and getting posted asap because i got too excited to gush about this LOL #these boys own my brainnnnn

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youssefguedira · 2 years

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ok so i just discovered your tog lotr au and i LOVE it, it works so well. i wanted to ask, how did andy and quynh fall in love/get together in this au?

this ask was sent a while ago oops but it goes a little something like this

Quynh is young, the equivalent of twelve years old in human terms, when she sees Andromache of Scythia, heir to the throne of Gondor, for the first time, though she does not know yet who Andromache is, nor who she will become.

She's heard mention of something happening for days, yet everyone has been carefully vague about what exactly it is around her, and whenever she has asked directly the only answer she's received is usually along the lines of you'll understand when you're older. Suffice to say, it's been frustrating.

Of course, she has another plan.

She'd been the one to discover the place not long ago, a section of roof that, when she climbs up and lies flat on her stomach, provides a near-perfect view of the path that leads to Rivendell's gate and into the courtyard. So on the day that the something is supposed to occur, that's where she goes.

Nico's already waiting for her when she arrives, shuffled close enough to the edge to make room for her, looking out over the courtyard. He’s ten in human terms, shorter than Quynh, a fact which frustrates him endlessly, and Quynh’s best friend in the world. “I think they’re arriving soon,” he says as she climbs up. “Whoever’s coming.”

“Who do you think it is?” She hauls herself up properly to lie beside him.

“I don’t know. Other elves, maybe? From Mirkwood?”

“They would have told us,” she points out. They would have told him, at least - he’s from Mirkwood, after all, even if he’s lived in Rivendell for almost his entire life.

“Maybe,” Nico says. “Wait. I see something.”

He points towards the furthest point on the path that they can see from here, where sure enough, two horses are approaching, cloaked figures atop their backs, one of them noticeably smaller than the other.

It’s not until they arrive in the courtyard where four elves - including Quynh’s father - are waiting to greet them, and lower the hoods of their cloaks, that their faces become visible. They’re similar in appearance, both with long black hair pulled back in neat braids and pale eyes, dressed in simple leather armour, and with rounded ears instead of pointed. Human, then. The taller of the two bears a long, double headed axe strapped to her back. The smaller is perhaps Quynh’s age in human terms, perhaps a little bit younger.

“What are they doing here, do you think?” Nico whispers. Quynh shushes him, gaze fixed on the new arrivals as they dismount their horses, the younger one coming to stand beside the elder, who must be a relation, perhaps her mother. The elder is speaking, but Quynh cannot make out the words.

Quynh’s father nods, and then steps aside, beckoning to the girl, who steps forward, looking back only once at the elder. She smiles, sadly. Quynh’s father places a hand on the girl’s back and says something to her, then the two of them turn and walk towards Rivendell, leaving the elder behind.

Quynh watches until they disappear from sight.

“Who do you think she is?” Nico wonders aloud.

“I don’t know,” Quynh responds.

-----------------------

Quynh actually meets Andromache, heir of Isildur, for the first time almost a year later. She and Nico are largely kept away from her for the first year of her time in Rivendell, either by their own obligations that keep them out of mischief, in her father’s words, or by the older elves finding ways to redirect their curiosity. Quynh never forgets about their strange guest, but after the first few months, she stops actively trying to seek her out.

She and Nico are in the gardens, having escaped their duties for a brief time, though Quynh’s certain it won’t be long before someone comes looking for them. Nico is crouching on the bank of the stream while Quynh perches on the edge of the bridge, scouring the ground for pebbles which he slips in his pocket, his slingshot clutched in the other hand, chewing on his lip in concentration.

“I bet you can’t hit that branch from the bridge,” Quynh says, leaning back on her hands and swinging her legs.

Nico looks up, never able to resist a challenge. “Which one?”

“That one.” She points to a small branch a good distance away - too far for Nico to hit, she’s sure. He’s a good shot, but she’s better.

Nico tilts his head to one side, calculating as he studies it. “What do I get if I win?” She knows he’s only pretending to be considering it - they’re both far too competitive to let a challenge slide. Frighteningly similar, her father had told them once.

“Satisfaction,” Quynh says. At Nico’s unimpressed look, she holds up the bundle she’d wrapped carefully in cloth earlier. “And this, I suppose.” It’s a roll of bread she’d stolen from the kitchen, filled with sweet honey.

(They’ll share it, she knows, regardless of who wins. They always do. But it’s fun to pretend.)

“All right,” Nico says, and Quynh grins. He positions himself at the spot Quynh picks, the very center of the bridge, and takes aim.

The pebble flies through the air and misses by some considerable distance, dropping into the stream with a neat splash. Nico curses while Quynh laughs. “I told you you couldn’t hit it.”

“I bet I could,” a new voice says from behind them. Quynh and Nico turn sharply towards the speaker.

The human girl is leaning against a tree, her arms folded.

“You’re welcome to try,” Nico responds. “What’s your name?”

Andromache looks at Quynh.

“Andromache,” she says, taking Nico’s previous spot on the bridge. “What about you?”

“Nicolò,” Nico says. “Of Mirkwood.”

“Quynh,” Quynh responds. The curious side of her is overjoyed to finally have learned something about the guest they’ve had for a year but never met, while the competitive side is bristling at her easy confidence. Nico passes Andromache the slingshot, and she takes aim.

The pebble misses narrowly, but misses nonetheless. Andromache unleashes a colorful string of curses in both Elvish and the human language, many of which Quynh has never heard before. She smiles despite herself and holds out her hand. “My turn.”

Quynh takes longer to fire than Andromache or Nico had, carefully sizing up the distance and the height before she shoots - and hits the branch, causing it to shake from the impact. She whoops in victory, while Nico sighs heavily, largely more for show than any sense of real disappointment. Andromache just watches Quynh curiously, her blue eyes piercing.

“I win,” Quynh declares.

“I’ll beat you next time,” Nico mutters.

“Of course you will,” Quynh says sweetly, not meaning a word of it. She unwraps the honey roll and, even though she’d won, breaks it into three, passing a piece to Nico and then offering one to Andromache.

Andromache looks down at it almost disbelievingly before looking back up at Quynh.

“Are you going to take it or not?” Quynh asks.

Andromache takes it.

-----------------------

After that point, the three of them become near-inseparable: Andromache fits perfectly into Quynh and Nico’s lives, and they quickly discover that the amount they can get away with becomes significantly more when there is a third person in their group to help them. The terror of Rivendell, Quynh’s father calls them, shaking his head but smiling fondly when they get caught yet again.

Andromache is always vague about exactly why she’d come to Rivendell, but the way she speaks about it suggests it had been out of necessity. Quynh never pushes, and Andromache never offers any further information.

When Nico’s training as a healer means he’s busier than usual and therefore kept away from her by one thing or another for most of the time, Quynh spends her time with Andromache, wandering the gardens of Rivendell, sparring (Andromache is good, but not better than Quynh is, and she wins most of the time), or simply talking for hours on end. Andromache is an incredible storyteller, and funny, and smart.

It feels only inevitable that, as the three of them move from childhood into adulthood, that Quynh falls for her.

It’s gradual at first, a slow build and then a sudden, sharp realisation that of course that’s what this is, of course she loves her, how could she not?

She never breathes a word to anyone, but Nico figures it out quickly - he’s her brother in all but blood, after all, has known her since they were too young to remember. They’re by the stream in one of their now-rare moments of free time, Nico sitting with his back against a tree and reading, Quynh standing on the bank. She is supposed to be practicing her spellwork; she is completely distracted. Her current position gives her a perfect line of sight to the courtyard, in which Andromache is sparring with one of the guards, axe in hand, her movements beautifully precise, as if she’s dancing. She’s beautiful, laughing as she dodges her opponent’s next blow, and Quynh is weak.

“Your mind is not where it should be,” Nico says, still largely focused on his book.

“Oh, shut up,” Quynh tells him half-heartedly, watching Andromache push her hair back from her face with a wide grin.

He looks up at her over the top of his book, follows her gaze, and it’s in that moment that he puts two and two together, his eyes widening. “Wait, you-”

“Not a word, Nico,” she says, but it’s too late.

“How long?” he asks. She finally forces herself to look away from the courtyard and back at him.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “Forever, it feels like.”

“Forever, huh?” he teases. She sits down on the grass near him and uses the proximity to kick him in the shin. He yelps.

“You mustn’t say anything, understand?” she says. “Nothing. I don’t want her to know.”

“Not even if-” he begins, but relents when she gives him a sharp look. “Okay. I will not say anything,” he says, serious, and she knows he won’t, even if he teases her about it. She loves him for it. “But I think that you should,” he adds. “Who knows? Maybe she’s been secretly in love with you this whole time, too.”

Quynh doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to talk about that possibility any further. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“And you don’t?” Nico fires back, and the subject is dropped.

-----------------------

Andromache, chieftain of the Dunedain and the person Quynh has been hopelessly in love with for years, leaves them when she is 20 years old. By that point, both Quynh and Nico are almost adult elves, halfway through their respective training, and still referred to by Quynh’s father as the terror of Rivendell. Some things don’t change.

Andromache tells them herself, one evening when they’re perched on the roof - the ledge is too small to fit the three of them, especially now that they’re not children any more, but they’ve adapted. The stars are bright overhead, and it’s late enough that Quynh’s fairly sure Nico has fallen asleep. Andromache is beside her, curled close for warmth, and the sight of her gilded in starlight makes Quynh’s heart skip a beat. She’s resting her head on Andromache’s shoulder, halfway to sleeping herself.

“I spoke to your father a few days ago,” Andromache says, drawing Quynh from her thoughts.

“Hm?” Quynh asks sleepily. Maybe she’s more tired than she’d thought.

“I think I have to leave,” Andromache says then, and Quynh sits up, suddenly very awake.

“What?”

“If I’m ever going to become- the person I’m supposed to be,” Andromache says, “I can’t stay here forever. I wouldn’t leave for good, just… for a little while.”

Quynh had never even considered the possibility that Andromache would leave. She understands why, but. She hadn’t expected it.

“Where will you go?” Nico asks, sitting up. Not asleep, then, though he blinks and rubs at his eyes as if he hadn’t been far from it.

“I don’t know,” Andromache says. “But I’ll come back.”

Quynh believes that, even if she’s not sure of anything else.

Andromache leaves exactly a week later, the same way she’d arrived so many years ago - on horseback, long hair braided back, with her axe strapped to her back just like her mother had had. Quynh watches her go as part of the group sent to bid her farewell, wearing the silver circlet that marks her as her father’s daughter. She lingers there for a long time after Andromache disappears from sight. Nico stays beside her and doesn’t say a word, his hand gentle on her back, reminding her he’s there.

-----------------------

Andromache of Scythia, future king by fate, wanderer by choice, returns to Rivendell ten years to the day after she had left.

The ten years she’s gone aren’t lonely. Quynh has Nico, of course, and her training. She travels, on occasion, sometimes with Nico, sometimes by herself. She is given more and more responsibility within Rivendell. She doesn’t forget Andromache, but she doesn’t spend all of her time waiting for her, either.

She misses her, though, so much it aches sometimes. Andromache never writes, and Quynh doesn’t expect her to - they’d never talked about that, but it doesn’t stop Quynh from wanting to hear from her, if only to know that she lives still, and is well.

Ten years later though, Quynh finds herself once again in the courtyard, waiting with her heart in her throat. It’s been so long, and she has changed so much, yet she still loves Andromache more than she knows what to do with.

“You’re nervous,” Nico says beside her.

“I’m not,” Quynh lies, even though she knows full well he can see the way she’s fidgeting with her sleeve. “It has been a long time.”

Whatever else Nico was going to say is cut off by the sound of hooves in the distance, far away but growing closer with every beat of Quynh’s heart. And then she’s there, Andromache, not cloaked this time but riding towards them like the king she was born to be, head held high, already smiling. Her hair is cropped short, which is new, and she’s dressed in human clothes, leather bracers on her wrists. She’s still the most beautiful thing Quynh’s ever seen.

“Andromache of Scythia,” Quynh’s father says. “Welcome. I believe we have much to speak of.”

Andromache dismounts and approaches, her eyes flicking to Quynh for just a moment. “We do.”

“Come, then,” Quynh’s father says. Just like he had all those years ago, he gestures for her to follow, and she does.

Quynh doesn’t see her again until later. They’re in the gardens, she and Nico, and Quynh is not-so-subtly watching the treeline for any sign of Andromache.

“What if-” she begins, but Nico cuts her off before she can start.

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. “It’s Andromache, Quynh. She’s our friend.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“And we knew her for almost that long before that. Relax. Stop pacing. And maybe you’ll be able to stop pining after-”

Nico will forever deny that the sound he makes upon being pushed into the stream is a shriek. Quynh knows better. It’s really not all that deep, and he knows it, but he glares at her anyway as she laughs.

Andromache finds the two of them like that, Nico sitting waist deep in the stream and trying very valiantly to look angry, Quynh laughing so hard she has to lean back against a tree. “What did Nico do this time?” she calls, and Quynh freezes in place.

Andromache’s grinning as she approaches, and Nico scrambles to his feet, and then she’s there, pulling Quynh into a hug, and all Quynh can really do is cling to her - she’s missed her.

“It’s good to see you,” Andromache says warmly when she pulls back, reaching up to trace Quynh’s braids. “You look good.”

“So do you,” Quynh says. She runs her fingers through Andromache’s now-short hair. “This suits you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Andromache says. Nico clears his throat, as if to remind them both he’s still there.

“I just remembered,” Nico says, entirely un-subtle, “there was, ah, something I needed to finish. I’ll see you both later.” It is, perhaps, the worst excuse she’s ever heard him make up. She’ll make fun of him for it later - for now, she’s distracted.

He leaves them alone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Quynh from saying everything she’s wanted to for the past ten years (and more). The prospect is both thrilling and absolutely terrifying.

Andromache is the first one to break the silence. “I brought you something,” she says, reaching into her pocket. “Spent some time with the dwarves, learned how to work with metal.”

She opens her fist, and lying in her palm is a silver pendant, sparkling in the sunlight: not quite circular, a white jewel like a drop of starlight circled by a band of silver, beautifully engraved. Quynh takes it, holds it up to the light to watch how it catches it. “You made this?” she whispers.

“And this,” Andromache says. This time, she pulls a dagger from her belt, its hilt decorated with engravings that match those of the necklace, another gem embedded within it.

“They’re beautiful,” Quynh tells her.

Andromache looks almost nervous, which feels unthinkable. “I wasn’t sure if- it’s been a long time,” she says. “I wanted to write, but I didn’t know if you would want-”

“It would have been welcome,” Quynh says. “You will always be welcome.”

For a long while, Andromache is silent. Then, “May I?” she asks, taking the necklace back.

Quynh melts, winding one arm around Andromache’s neck and the other around her waist, presses close until there’s barely any space between them. Andromache cards her fingers through Quynh’s hair, runs her hand along Quynh’s spine. When they part - because, it seems, they do still need to breathe - it takes Quynh a moment to open her eyes.

Quynh nods and turns around. Andromache’s fingers brush her neck lightly as she fastens the necklace’s clasp, and Quynh closes her eyes, gathering her courage - what for, she doesn’t exactly know, only that she has to do something.

When she turns around, Andromache is watching her with something unreadable in her eyes. “I missed you,” she says. Neither of them move; Quynh barely breathes. Then, finally, Andromache mutters something under her breath Quynh can’t quite catch, leans in, and kisses her.

They should talk about it. They will have to talk about it at some point. But then Andromache smiles like the sun, and all Quynh can do is kiss her again.

-----------------------

(“Something you needed to finish?” Quynh mutters to Nico at dinner that evening. “Really, Nico? That’s the best you had?”

“It worked, no?” Nico points out, gesturing to Andromache beside her. Right now, she’s talking to someone else, but her hand is resting on Quynh’s knee under the table, and Quynh’s never been happier.

“I suppose,” Quynh concedes. Nico grins.

“And now, maybe I will get a break from your pining,” he continues. Quynh kicks him lightly under the table, because, well. Some things don’t change.

She loves him, really.)

#neon answers #anonymous #neon writes #tog lotr au #this one contains a lot of quynh and nicky bc their relationship in this au means a lot to me but yea #the necklace is a rough combination of arwen's and quynh's in tog. i dont know how well i achieved this but i had a go #this is posted with the caveat that this au's canon is subject to change based on me or mary going hey this would be cool-#but in my head its something like this. feat nico and quynh's endless competitiveness #userlyde #actual answer: andy is fostered in rivendell when quynh is a kid theyre friends (she quynh and nicky grow up together)#n friends to lovers stuff. but they dont get together til after andy's Middle Earth World Tour #not mentioned: all the experimental weapons andy made for nicky #have you seen that video with all the different axes. yeah that was andy during her year or so with the dwarves #(joe not present during this time. off barding)#elf aging speed has been messed with bc honestly idk where to start with that #so all ages are given in human terms #i think andy also ages slower bc shes a dunedain #but i dont actually know. this fic is for the vibes tolkien fans dont look too close #the old guard #andromaquynh #person who forgot main tags exist

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clinically-not-straight · 2 years

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Ok so I looked for Lord of the Rings to see if there were any major non-white chracters. There are not, it seems. However, I did find this one video that poses as being super fucking woke whilst actually just being incredibly racist and I thought you'd all like to see it.

youtube

Now, you might notice that it says all the words spoken by a person of colour in the movie. That tells me they mean the characters and not the actors. Now, in terms of race in Lord of the Rings, they're right, race in Lord of the Rings is moreso surrounding the differences between humans, orcs, hobbits etc; unfortunately this video's premise is built on real-world ethics so I'm gonna have to rule it by that, also they said "person of colour", again forwarding that same idea.

So the video that's like "wow, only less than a minute of non-white characters speaking? That's so racist." Actually said "The Orcs are clearly POC." If you can't tell, that's really fucking racist.

---------------------------------------------------

To circle back, I will say it's not exactly great that, in the movies, there aren't any notable non-white characters. Frankly it does feel very strange to me that there are literally none (Shagrat doesn't count because he's not human, already covered) however it is worth noting that I'm not as into LotR as many others are, I haven't even read the books. For all I know there could be some that got cut from the movies that were in the books. In the movies they could have swapped the races of people and I'd have been none the wiser. The best way to see it, JRR Tolkien does have accounts of racism and his work will probably reflect that to some degree, authorial intent is important after all, however have you thought for a minute that how you see it as a viewer probably says more?

#interestingly enough there's stronger evidence supporting that the orcs aren't black people #there was a letter written by Tolkien to someone else about how they were 'flat-nosed' and stuff like 'the Mongols'#so if you're gonna say the orcs are racist then make sure you know who they're a representation of #i know i said poc in the post but way too many people say orcs are based on black people so yeah #like. specifically black people. nobody else. realistically just saying africans rather than black would've made more sense for Tolkien #just consider when he was alive. he's bot going to talk about the black people living in harmony round him cos he won't have had that #he'll have said 'yep. them there africans lemme tell ya. I'll tell ya. tell ya what"#im clearly rambling here but fuck it there was a lot to explain that didnt fit the post #just to be clear in case its not already obvious. i think jrr tolkien was racist. theres concrete evidence. thats it.#still like the movies though and i dont see the orcs as black or mongol #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr orcs #orcs #tolkien #jrr tolkien #racism #Youtube

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writingalice · 1 year

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okay but Legolas.

he doesn't have a fucking father - i mean he does in The hobbit but we don't talk about The Hobbit because no. The point is he si presented as Legolas of the woodland row, when Aragorn and Gimli are called by the name of their fathers - and look, I know, his father is a king and it could be not very prudent to give Thranduil's name but I still think it's fucking hilarious. Like the man does not deserve a father, he's just from the woodland row.

Anyway. But I mean, his lines. "A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night." I mean, no ? The sun is just red ? it's the litteral sun, it doesn't reflect the amount of blood that has been spilled or not ? At least I could understand if he'd said "sailors should take some warning" but there's litterally no reason for that ? Please, explain me with your high Elvish science because here i don't understand the fucking way your brain works.

I mean, like. Legolas Greenleaf.

#lotr #legolas greenleaf #anti-appreciation post for legolas #poor sob doesn't deserve it #i actually like him but that's not the point #entirely based on the two towers #i have more to say but i'm tired today

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