#forgive my lack of proper accents throughout this entire post

[hopeless-eccentric]

i think we talk a lot about how frodo’s long-term reaction to the ring is a discussion of trauma, but i think there’s a really interesting conversation to be had about the intergenerational effects of the palantir on the house of stewards

so right out of the gate as a caveat, the palantir has a much less obvious impact on denethor than saruman. yes, it ages him, shows him the most hopeless version of the truth, etc (very alike to what we see with Hurin), but in some of tolkien’s non-lotr writing, it’s implied denethor had more of a handle on it than saruman because as acting ruler of minas tirith, he had a claim to use its palantir, whereas saruman didn’t have that magical right and his own stone rejects him. my point here is that until denethor essentially used the palantir to stare straight into the sun, its effects didn’t rob him of anything but hope and strength. i wanted that on the table because it’s a book detail that tends to get glossed over in adaptation/analysis

that being said, the palantir sits in the background of all the familial trauma going on in the house of stewards in a way that i think is fascinating

so the most obvious root of a lot of the familial trauma going on there is denethor, but it wouldn’t be wholly correct to suggest that the palantir “made” him miserable. we know from the appendices that he spent years jealous and suspicious of those who received his father’s approval (ironically including aragorn), used the palantir for a large amount of his stewardship out of a similar paranoia, and is generally characterized as unhappy throughout his life. it’s also implied a lot of his insecurities, jealousness, etc stems from his issues with his own father, Ecthelion II (tolkien leaves it up to the reader whether he was mistreated or just inherently jealous and insecure). denethor is also characterized as unkind to his family members long before he becomes a father. given the generally feudal social standards expressed for kings in the books, his choice not to remarry after the death of finduilas suggests she meant a great deal to him, but at the same time, some of tolkien’s non-lotr writings suggest his use of the palantir exacerbated (and may have even directly caused) her death,* so even if she made him happy, he wasn’t exactly the world’s most caring or attentive partner 

another important implication there is that while yes, denethor’s misery and paranoia already existed (and, importantly, had roots in his family), the palantir fed on it and made it worse to the point of actively harming those around him: his wife and children. the roots of denethor’s own issues don’t have much to do with the palantir, but it explicitly exacerbates the side-effects of these issues to a deadly extent. his problems are already present, but his use of the palantir forcibly pays them forward

one of the things that really ties this all back to intergenerational trauma for me though is that so often, the issues in the house of stewards that tie back to the palantir are SPECIFICALLY familial. it’s not really shown in any of the movies, but until the very end, denethor isn’t an entirely shitty ruler. his one inarguably terrible strategic move is trying to kill faramir, which would rob gondor of any kind of leadership. even when the palantir screws up his brain to the point of actually hurting his people, the primary objective still has to do with family

the final thing that really nails this down as a stand in for intergenerational trauma is the way we see these cycles break. in the pyre of denethor scene, denethor renders the palantir unusable, and only then do we see faramir get a chance to get the hell out of dodge and do better than his dad. immediately after getting engaged, he promises to build eowyn a garden, whereas finduilas’s fatal despair was worsened by the lack of natural beauty in minas tirith. while i do  recognize that gardens are symbolic of growth/rebirth/healing at large, they’re not the only symbol in the book with that meaning, and its use seems to be a purposeful juxtaposition against what denethor did wrong for their family

at the end of the day, the palantir of minas tirith symbolizes despair, and some of the horrible ways hopelessness can snowball into genuine harm. i think there are a lot of metaphors you could draw from this. on my first read through the books, i remember texting a friend something along the lines of “the house of stewards are living proof that depression is genetic,” which. i mean. yeah, palantir or no. but the point is, i think the palantir serves as a fantasy vessel for exploring trauma much like the ring does with frodo, and it’s a bit of an under-looked at side of the text that im glad i got to share with you guys. so hope that was interesting

*this detail isn’t mentioned in every retelling of the story, which is one of the unfortunate drawbacks on writing metas on an incredibly vast and incredibly incomplete universe like this one. however, the accounts that include the palantir detail don’t necessarily contradict the ones that don’t. they merely suggest that, while her despair was caused by the shadow over mordor, the palantir brought it to her front door in a particularly traumatizing way. i personally think it makes more sense than the alternative, otherwise citizens of minas tirith would be dropping like flies every time they tried to watch a sunrise

#forgive my lack of proper accents throughout this entire post #also theres the question of to what extent is his use of the palantir even a choice anymore #but thats another question for another day #lotr #denethor #boromir #faramir #lotr meta

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] Honest to Goodness

Title: Honest to Goodness Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Somewhere Post Episode 70, Close to Home series Characters: Caduceus Clay/Caleb Widogast Rated: K+ Description: Caduceus has never been talented at finding the right words for anything, but thank Melora, actions speak a lot louder. For @claylebweek​

There was something oddly soothing about the clean-up post dinner. Stowing his ingredients in their proper place, wiping down the kitchen of all detritus, doing the dishes, restoring his workspace to a pristine condition. Caduceus hummed to himself as he worked, washing and drying and stacking, letting his mind wander but not linger on anything in particular. He felt far too restless to retire, though he knew rest was sorely needed. They’d leave again in the morning, perhaps to Nicodranas, perhaps elsewhere.

The Mighty Nein had a peculiar habit of deciding a course of action, and then changing it at the last minute. Caduceus had learned to match the sporadic flow, rather than harbor frustration. He set a plate to the side, covering it with a cloth. Caleb had still been gone by the time Caduceus served dinner, but their wizard missed too many meals as it was. Caduceus would try to catch him on his return, encourage him to eat. Caleb had not seemed well, last Caduceus saw him, though honestly, he’d been seeing less of their wizard as of late. Granted, they’d not had much downtime, but still. Their reading lessons had been few and far between, and Caleb hadn’t joined him for evening tea in quite some time. Caduceus assumed he had erred in some manner, but no matter how often he turned their interactions over in his head, he couldn’t identify why. He considered asking someone else in the Mighty Nein for advice, but couldn’t decide who. If another week passed of Caleb avoiding him, for lack of a better word, Caduceus would start with Fjord and work his way around, leaving Nott for last. Surely someone could offer him an explanation, since Caleb seemed uninterested in providing one himself. Caduceus put the last clean plate into the cabinet and shut the door. He cast a glance around the kitchen -- completely tidied with Caleb’s dinner waiting on the sideboard -- and untied his apron, hanging it on the hook. He supposed he’d go to his tower and see if he could spot Caleb’s return from there. Caduceus turned around and blinked with surprise. Caleb stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking in on him with an expression Caduceus was unable to read. He must have been deep in his own thoughts not to hear Caleb arrive. Nott snuck up on him frequently but rarely were other members of the Mighty Nein capable of such a feat. “I saved you dinner,” Caduceus said when it seemed Caleb wasn’t going to speak up. “Oh. I -- thank you,” Caleb said, his voice oddly quiet, his brow pinched as though he were troubled, and perhaps he was, given the revelation about one of his former compatriots being in the grasp of the Dynasty. “I appreciate it.” “It was no trouble,” Caduceus said. Caleb nodded, and chewed on his bottom lip. He lifted his gaze from the floor as though it took great effort before he said, “I owe you many things. An apology, to start, and then an explanation.” “All right,” Caduceus said, cautious to his core. This felt like one of those conversations he didn’t want to have, although he wasn’t sure why. “Though I’m not certain what you need to apologize for.” Caleb fidgeted. He moved further into the kitchen, drifting toward one of the tables Caduceus used to prep food -- and the table containing the reserved meal. “You may have noticed I’ve been avoiding you lately.” “Yeah. Noticed that. Hoped you’d tell me why eventually,” Caduceus said. Perhaps now was the ‘eventually’. “It’s complicated,” Caleb said, his accent thicker than usual, perhaps because of the fatigue cloaking him, the overwhelming emotional wringer he’d pushed himself through today. “But I will explain. And I am sorry.” Caduceus nodded. “I’m listening.” He moved toward Caleb, tried to usher him in the direction of the chair, of the food, because it seemed as though Caleb would topple any moment, but the wizard shook his head. “I have to say this first, and say this now, before I lose my nerve.” Caleb looked up at Caduceus, the space between them little more than an armlength. “Because if I don’t, then I’ll keep losing my chance. We almost died. You’ve already died once, briefly if not for Jester. Now Yasha’s gone, the danger has only magnified, and…” He paused and sucked in a sharp breath, face wrinkling. “I’m running out of time,” Caleb said. “It’s not as though I thought I had all the time in the world. I’m conscious of how short my life is, and shorter still with the danger we put ourselves into. And there are things I want to do, things I want to see done, I have a purpose. I have a wrong I must right, but…” He trailed off again, frustration leeching into his voice. Caduceus waited. He sensed there was something important in the babble, something Caleb struggled to find the words to say, whether it was because he was speaking Common, or because he spoke to some emotion he rarely shared, Caduceus didn’t know. “I am not a good person, Mr. Clay,” Caleb said, and his voice was thick, like one who was fighting back tears. “I am a garbage person, and I have no right to do this, but because I am selfish, I am going to do it anyway. I must because if I don’t, time is going to run out, and I’ll never know, and isn’t that the worst? Never knowing?” Caduceus tilted his head, a tightness in his chest, an ache to pull Caleb into his arms and soothe whatever emotional turmoil had taken their wizard. But Caleb, more than any other in the Mighty Nein, kept his physical intimacies to himself, and Caduceus didn’t know if such a thing would be welcome. He didn’t know anything. “It is often better to take a risk then be left wondering. At least, that’s how I’ve always believed,” Caduceus said quietly. He looked down at Caleb, trying to catch his wandering gaze. “I am listening, Mr. Caleb. Whatever burden you carry, I am listening.” Caleb gave him a sad, gentle smile. “Oh. It is as much a burden as it is not.” He took in a long, slow breath. “I care for you, in a way I probably should not, but I can’t shove it aside anymore.” “I care for you as well,” Caduceus said, only partially confused. He was aware Caleb wrestled with his affection for the Mighty Nein, considering it a burden as much as he did a boon. “You are all very important to me.” “No, that is not what I meant.” Caleb’s forehead wrinkled, and he exhaled sharply, as if he were frustrated. He reached up. “Please, bend down for me, Mr. Clay. I can’t reach you.” Caduceus blinked. Bend down…? It was an odd request, but he complied, and once he did, Caleb’s fingers threaded through his hair, cupping gently around the back of his head. “Please don’t hate me,” Caleb murmured, and he rose up, leaned in toward Caduceus, cradling Caduceus’ head as if he were a treasured item. Their lips brushed. At once, Caduceus understood, and then the kiss deepened, Caleb’s mouth moving over his, their lips skimming together. Caleb’s lips were chapped and swollen, perhaps he’d been chewing on them in his anxiety. Warmth flooded Caduceus, from where Caleb's lips touched his, spreading throughout his entire body. His heartrate fluttered. The sensation of butterflies in his belly turned into a whole flock. And then Caleb drew back and looked up at him with worry in his face, his hand sliding away from Caduceus, trailing briefly through his hair. Caduceus blinked. "Oh," he murmured, a slow smile curving his lips, which tingled in the aftermath. Revelation was a warm pool in his belly, a tingle dancing over his skin. "Oh?" Caleb echoed, his voice thick with anxiety. Caduceus smiled and touched Caleb's face gently. "Oh that's what this feeling is. I like you." Caleb's face immediately burned bright red, his freckles standing out in sharp relief. He sucked in a breath. "I don't think I'll ever get over how abundantly honest you are," he said, and knocked his forehead against Caduceus' chest. "It's startling." "I think that's because you're so wrapped up in your secrets, Mr. Caleb. You and Miss Beau are both like that," Caduceus said. His lips tingled. He wondered if it would be weird to ask Caleb to kiss him again. "That is probably true," Caleb said, muffled against Caduceus' shirt. Caduceus chuckled quietly. He stroked Caleb's hair, because Caleb was still hiding his face. "I, uh, you'll have to forgive me, Mr. Caleb, but I don't have a lot of experience with this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do next. Is this where we take our clothes off?" Caleb bolted upright, and his face was as red as a tomato, all the way to the tips of his ears. "Caduceus!" he gasped, and my, but the sound of his given name in Caleb's voice was music to Caduceus' ears. "That's, I think, a little fast." Caduceus tilted his head. "Is it? I mean, that seems to be the standard as far as I can tell. Beau--" Caleb shook his head, hard enough to dislodge some of his hair from the tie. "Beauregard's, ah, intimacies are not to be taken as the standard. This is different," he said, and seemed to gather himself, straightening his shoulders. "I would not have this be a... a fling. You know?" Caduceus nodded, but then shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't know." Caleb sighed and kind of scratched at his chin, where a bit of stubble was making a strong effort to dust his cheeks. "A fling is, you know, temporary. It is a one time thing. That is not what I am after, though I know I should probably be content with that, but I am a selfish man, Mr. Clay. I want more than I should." He paused and peered up at Caduceus. "Or is that what you want?" "I'm not sure. This is all very new to me." Caduceus hummed and considered it. "The idea in general sounds nice. Especially with you. Not, I mean, the fling part, but the other part where we take off our clothes. It sounds like it could be nice." Caleb's red deepened. He coughed into his hand, and for a moment, looked as though he had shed ten years worth of exhaustion and anxiety. "That is good to know, but maybe we can wait a bit for that part. I mean, I am in no rush, and it doesn't seem as though you are either?" "Sure," Caduceus said, easily agreeable. He had no source of comparison. He couldn't miss what he had never experienced. He touched his lips. "Should I wait to kiss you again, too?" Caleb's lips curved into a genuine smile. He breathed a soft laugh. "Come here," he said, gesturing, and Caduceus leaned down, into the gentle cup of Caleb's fingers, threading through his hair as Caleb pulled him into a kiss. It was firmer this time, more sure. Caleb touched him with confidence, radiating satisfaction and relief as opposed to an anxious trepidation. Caleb's mouth moved against his, and then his lips parted, and the tip of his tongue traced the seam of Caduceus' lips, warm and wet. A thrill danced down Caduceus' spine, pooling at the base of it. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so they hung awkwardly at his sides, until he rested them on Caleb's shoulders. He opened his mouth to Caleb, and shivered at the first touch of Caleb's tongue to his. It was an odd sensation, indescribable. Even with Caleb's lessons, Caduceus still couldn't find appropriate words, save that he enjoyed it, and wouldn't mind more. Caleb must have understood, because he carded his fingers through Caduceus' hair, scrubbing gently at his scalp, and the kiss continued, softer and wetter until the low growl of Caleb's stomach shattered the moment. Caduceus chuckled against Caleb's mouth. "It's a good thing I saved you a plate," he said. Caleb breathed a laugh and tucked loose hair behind Caduceus' ear. "Sometimes, I think you are too good for us," he said, and there was a quiet fondness in his eyes. "I don't know where this is going to go, and gods know, I do not deserve it. But if you'll have this broken man, I would like to see." "We're all broken, Mr. Caleb." Caduceus took Caleb's hand, tangled their fingers together, and rubbed his thumb over Caleb's scarred knuckles. "And I don't know how to do this, but I'm willing to learn." "And you learn very quickly," Caleb said. He watched Caduceus' thumb stroke his knuckles. "I will do my best not to withdraw. I'm sorry for doing so before. I wasn't ready to face... myself, I suppose." Caduceus followed through on impulse and brushed a kiss over Caleb's knuckles. "Apology accepted," he said as Caleb's belly rumbled again, and the wizard's face returned to the tomato-red cast it had earlier. "And now, you eat." "Now, I eat," Caleb agreed and withdrew from Caduceus, though there was reluctance in the lingering brush of his fingers. "Read to me while I do? We can make up for the missed lessons." Warmth remained where Caleb had touched him. His lips yet tingled. He would like to kiss Caleb again, perhaps after he ate, or before bed, or in the morning. "Sure." Caduceus put the kettle back on the fire, preparing two cups of tea. It was late, but this was worth missing a little sleep for. Caleb was worth a lot.

***

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#caduceus clay #Caleb widogast #caleb widogast/caduceus clay #caduceus clay/caleb widogast #clayleb #clayleb week 2019 #critical role fanfic #draco watches critical role #draco writes critical role #close to home series