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#lúthien speaks
i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years
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When you change your ink in the middle of the page lol
Also, thingol-slander...
@legolasbadass @lathalea notes being made
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askandreth · 2 years
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Truer words have never been spoken
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roselightfairy · 6 months
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Aragorn's telling of the Lúthien story is another example of fates his book-self has long since embraced that his movie-self is determined to be reluctant about.
"As Strider was speaking they watched his strange eager face, dimly lit in the red glow of the wood-fire. His eyes shone, and his voice was rich and deep."
He's not reluctant to tell them about Lúthien. He's delighted. He's fantasizing about his own Tinúviel, who has/will make the same choice. He's not going to break up with her out of some feeling of his own unworthiness. This is LONG since settled, just like the goal of the kingship.
I saw some quote somewhere, I WISH I could find it again or attribute, that was something along the lines of "book Aragorn marches to the drumbeat of his own destiny" and boy oh boy is that true.
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camille-lachenille · 2 months
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It was a rainy day, when Huan walked out of the Halls of Mandos, soft mud sticking to his paws as he walked toward the woods in the distance. The smells and noises were familiar despite all the time that had passed, and Huan happily sniffed at trees and stones to try catch an interesting trail. The pattering of rain on the dense canopy over him almost covered the twittering of birds but Huan could still catch glimpses of their gossip, and he wagged his tail. It wasn’t much but he had a trail to follow now.
Valinor was unchanged, yet vastly different from what Huan remembered. As he ran across woods and plains, he saw new towns and lush fields where there was only wilderness before. He mourned this loss, but he had a goal to reach so he did not pause except for the briefest rest. Always, he followed the chattering of birds, the whispers of the wind and the thread calling to him.
Huan ran and ran, revelling in the feeling if earth under his paws and wind messing with his fur. He had missed being alive, this abundance of sounds and smells; rustling leaves, foxes calls, thunderstorms and bird songs, deer fleeing in the woods, freshly cooked food, dewy grass in the morning and so much more.
At least, Huan picked up the trail he had been searching for as he followed the birds, this unmistakeable scent that meant friend tough diluted in seawater, kelp and bird, with a hint of sadness. The trail led him to a lone tower at the edge of the world, wrapped in ribbons of mist. Huan ran up to the door and shook his fur from rain and dust before barking happily, his tail wagging faster than ever.
It took some time but, at last, the door opened on a small figure clad in white. Huan immediately flopped down, belly up and tongue lolling out, and looked up at the woman. She stood very still in the doorframe, a hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes very wide, like a rabbit caught. After a long moment she moved, as if in a daze, and presented her open hand to Huan. He sniffled it, revelling in the scent of friend, before licking the woman’s palm. She laughed at that, a small startled giggle, but her stance was now much more relaxed as she knelt beside him.
“So you really are the dog from the tale of Grandmother Lúthien,” she said with wonder in her voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Huan. I am Elwing.”
Huan let out a soft boof and licked Elwing’s hand once more. This time, her laughter was just a little louder, and she sank her hands in his fur to rub his belly. He could not speak in this new life, not that he had much to say that could not be expressed with other means, but in this moment Huan wished he was able to tell Elwing he was her friend forever.
Elwing stood up after a while and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Do come in, you must be famished after your journey,” she invited with a small smile. “Truth be told, I expected you to look much more fearsome, not that I complain about your friendliness. But tales tend to make everyone look grander and more awe inspiring than real…” her voice trailed off and there was a feeling of sadness surrounding Elwing. Huan carefully nudged her shoulder with his nose and, when Elwing turned to look at him, licked her face playfully. Her shriek was one he knew well, part surprise, part laughter. Lúthien had reacted the exact same way he had done this trick to her. Tyelkormo would only laugh and muss the fur on his nose, but that was even longer ago.
Elwing’s tower was a nice place to live in. Isolated enough that it was surrounded by wilderness and the inside large enough to accommodate Huan’s size without too many broken vases and chairs. At night he slept on the hearth rug and he would often be joined by Elwing when sleep eluded her. She would tell him tales of her life, in Beleriand and here in Valinor, and what memories she had of her father and brothers, tough only rarely for it made her cry.
“I am glad to have you here with me, my friend,” Elwing whispered in his neck one night. Huan nuzzled her hair in answer as she fell asleep curled against him. I will always be at your side, friend.
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ettelenethelien · 5 days
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I am a little bit crazy about everything about Lúthien, because:
You're the daughter of the king of Fäery, more or less. Your mother is older than the world, and to you, metaphysics is something familial. people call you a half-maia and that's not exactly correct because you either are or aren't, but you're your own category of eruhini and that might be even stranger to think of. You have no idea how old you are; your people didn't count years back then.
There is so much power inside you sometimes, more than your body and soul can bear, so you let it out in dancing and flowers bloom under your feet. You leak power and leave trails of nimphredil as you walk.
Your mother talks with the sun and moon, and you smile at them in the sky. Once, Oromë used to ride in these parts and your mother would speak with him, and you too, sometimes. The world had no limits for you back then, and you could go alone from the shores of the sea to the lands beyond the mountains. You would drag Daeron with you on those journeys, but since then the lands have grown more dangerous. You could deal with the dangers you think.
You would be the key to Doriath, and to Nargothrond, if captured.
You feel every encroachment of the dark in your very soul. You run off to dance alone, and, for a while, the sickness passes. others don't seem to feel this so deeply or so overwhelmingly. You wonder what is beyond the world.
love meets you one day in the woods.
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that-angry-noldo · 9 months
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When King Felagund arrives to Doriath, his face is grey with grief.
His figure is thin. Worn. Shuddered by occasional tremors, either from the wind and snow that do not cease, or from many scars his body wears. His rich, golden hair is now bland, thin, cut short and uneven; his face is tired and hollow as he steps, slowly, towards the enterance to the palace of Menegroth.
The guards dare not stop him. He spares them no glance.
Menegroth is quiet. Menegroth is a grave, with king Thingol sitting on his throne, hunched in grief, and queen Melian as cold as a marble statue. King Felagund does not stop once while making his way towards the hall where they grieve.
King Felagund has little sympathy for grieving people left. His own grief ate his heart out and settled in his gut. He makes his way to the throne room. His face gains purpose; he is a dead man dragging himself to his last mission.
There is a crowd behind him when he enters the cave. He stops before the throne. His chest rises and falls slowly, and his eyes burn with fell flame.
Thingol jerks, rises his head. His eyes focus on Felagund. He gasps.
"Finrod," he chokes, and almost rises from his throne.
Felagund does not move. His eyes are fixed on Thingol.
"Tell me, was it worth it?" he finally asks.
His voice is quiet. Dark. Menacing. Thingol wavers, his face changing into a fleeting confusion.
Felagund's hand is under his cloak. He takes it out.
Slowly.
It is clutched in a fist.
The crowd holds its breath. Felagund does not take his eyes off Thingol.
"Tell me," he repeats, louder, and his voice trembles. "Was it worth it?!"
His eyes are stained with tears. He trembles.
He cries.
"When I sent you my messages," he whispers, shaking, the sound echoing from the walls, "tell me: did you ever, in your stubborness, in your pride, in your selfishness - did you ever try to see the voice of reason within them? When you looked at your daughter, tell me: did you ever think of yourself, young and reckless, standing enchanted beneath the trees? When you looked at Beren, tell me: did you not see the hand that guarded you, a soul so worn and scarred and lonely?"
Thingol is shaking. Felagund lifts his head. His face is stained with tears. He rises his voice.
"Tell me!" his words echo from the walls, drum with grief, loss, power. "Tell me! When you named your price, have you ever - ever - regretted it? Have you ever wished to utter words of blessing instead, even if they were stained with sorrow? Have you ever," he screams in earnest now, and his hand trembles as he lifts it high, "looked back and thought the price was too high? Have you ever thought that you failed to pay it?"
Thingol sits pale. The halls shake with Felagund's cries.
"I had to watch them," he sobs, "I had to watch them die in darkness. I had to listen to my friend, the man I swore to protect, the last descendant of a man long gone - I had to listen as he was devoured, I had to trash and cry - and I did not even get a body!" he screams, tears springing from his eyes. "I had to look at your daughter, as she shook and wept, and I could not comfort her, because he was gone! Because he was gone, and she loved him, but he was gone! Tell me, when you dismissed my letters so angrily - tell me, have I not warned you against this exactly?! Your daughter, your Lúthien, your starlight - gone, gone as a withering ash under the touch of wind! In your desire to save her, have you ever thought you were signing her death sentence?! Tell me, Elu Thingol: was the price really worth it?!"
No, Thingol screams, no - but Felagund's hand is shaking, and the light coming from within it is all but blinding, and Finrod yells as he throws the Silmaril on the ground, and the walls shake with his grief.
"Here is thy prize, Elwë Singollo!" he screams, glowing and shaking and terrifying, speaking the tongue Elu long thought forgotten. "Here is thy prize, here is thy reward! Here is Tinúviel, weeping on her knees, for her lover is torn to shreds, his remains breathless in her hands! Here is Beren, young and weary, whose voice knew nothing but tenderness when he talked about his Nightingale! Here are my Faithful, dead for thy foolish whim, torn apart for the greed of a madman who thought himself a God! Here," he trembles, "am I, for I am dead, dead, dead, and dead I should have been, and dead will I become! Here is your prize, Elu Thingol! Die by it!"
And with those words, he flees, nothing but the light of now double-accursed stone remaining.
When someone picks it up and hands it to Thingol, the palace is pierced by a wail of horror and agony. The gem burns the Greycloak's hands.
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thelordofgifs · 1 year
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Counting lines of dialogue in the Silmarillion
A while ago (before I even got on tumblr), for reasons best known to myself procrastinating writing cover letters, I went through the entire published silm and counted up the number of lines of dialogue assigned to each character. Here are the results!
Notes on methodology: Quenta Silmarillion only; characters listed in order of first line of dialogue; dialogue that can be attributed to multiple characters because a whole group was talking/the speaker wasn't identified is omitted; so is dialogue spoken by unnamed characters. Also I may have miscounted slightly because I'm not going back to check this.
Eru: 4 Aulë: 5 Yavanna: 10 Manwë: 9 Tulkas: 2 Mandos: 9 Míriel: 2 Finwë: 2 Melkor: 7 Fingolfin: 4 Fëanor: 13 Ungoliant: 3 Olwë: 1 Maedhros: 6 Fingon: 2 Thingol: 19 Caranthir: 2 Ulmo: 3 Melian: 13 Galadriel: 3 Finrod: 5 Angrod: 2 Turgon: 10 Aredhel: 4 Eöl: 7 Maeglin: 2 Curufin: 5 Bëor: 2 Bereg: 1 "Amlach" (actually someone pretending to be him): 1 Amlach: 1 Haleth: 2 Húrin: 12 Galdor: 1 Sauron: 3 Beren: 11 Lúthien: 4 Celegorm: 2 Edrahil: 1 Draugluin: 1 Huan: 1 Huor: 1 Saeros: 1 Beleg: 9 Túrin: 18 Mîm: 5 Gwindor: 8 Finduilas: 2 Glaurung: 6 Aerin: 1 Brandir: 3 Niënor: 3 Gurthang: 1 Mablung: 1 Thorondor: 1 Morwen: 3 Eärendil: 3 Elwing: 1 Eönwë: 1 Maglor: 4
Some thoughts on this:
Thingol has a solid claim by at least one metric to being the main character of the Silmarillion! No doubt this would annoy literally everyone, including Thingol ("What do you mean it's called the Silmarillion?").
Anyone who features in one of the Great Tales gets a slightly disproportionate amount of dialogue, as expected for the more novelistic style of those chapters.
Lots of divine beings chattering in the early chapters, but they're obviously much quieter once the action moves to Beleriand.
Huan, despite famously speaking three times, only has one line of actual attributed dialogue (the others are reported speech).
Maglor, one of the most popular characters in the silm, is the literal last one to be given a speaking role and he only has four lines of dialogue (all of which are very good lines though. do not come after my boy).
Characters who notably don't get anything to say: Orodreth, Círdan, Tuor, Idril.
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sauronnaise · 3 months
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Huan: I can speak only three times, so listen to me carefully.
Lúthien: Okay.
Huan: What do a tree and I have in common?
Lúthien: You're both tall?
Huan: We bark.
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outofangband · 4 months
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Could you expand on what Morgoth said about the Valar having harems in Aman??? I’ve never heard that before and whether he’s lying or not that’s wild. Like, was it just something he causally dropped in a generally menacing speech or what, I’m trying to figure out in what context he would even bring that up!
Yeah no problem!
I was half joking about him saying there were harems in Valinor but well, he certainly talks about elves being used by the gods for similar purposes.
Warning: this passage contains sexual harassment and implicit threats of sexual violence. The language is flowery but it’s still in my opinion one of the more disturbing passages from Tolkien, in this regard at least.
From The Lay of Leithan
Of what avail here dost thou deem thy babbling song and foolish laughter? minstrels strong are at my call. Yet I will give it a respite brief, a while to live, alittle while though purchase dear, to Lúthien the fair and clear, a pretty toy for idle hour
In slothful gardens many a flower like thee the amorous gods are used, honey sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised, their fragrance loosing under feet, but here we seldom find such sweet amid our labours long and hard, from godlike idleness debarred
This goes on like this for another few lines before Lúthien interrupts
It’s worth noting that this is not the first time that he makes references to the idle lazy and indulgent atmosphere of Valinor, in Tolkien’s earlier texts. In the Book of Lost Tales part one Morgoth similarly speaks directly to the Valar through their herald, complaining of the brutal labor he must undergo which they are interrupting, accusing them similarly of laziness and decadence.
So yeah something he casually drops in a genuinely menacing speech more or less sums it up in my opinion.
I think he’s probably wrong but I’m actually undecided if he believes himself lying. I could see him truly believing the other Valar partake in this and that he has been cast out from this privilege, or that the other Valar truly treat the elves as he does but are better at papering it over in pretty settings.
On the other hand he could very easily be deliberately painting a cruel and wicked portrait of Valinor and the gods to Lúthien on purpose, he taunts her for being naive earlier in this scene, I can definitely see him spinning this story purely out of malice.
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the-elusive-soleil · 4 months
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our tracks untraceable
For @tolkienfamilyweek Day 6: Ancestors and their legacy
All quoted lyrics from "Sons and Daughters" by The Decemberists
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"When we arrive, sons and daughters," Elros sings under his breath, "we'll make our homes on the water…"
He nearly bumps into Maedhros, who has halted in front of him as they and Elrond and Maglor make their way through the woods. It takes a moment for Maedhros to speak. "Where did you learn that song?" he asks, a little hoarsely.
Elros, confused, says, "Nana sang it to us sometimes…before."
"Ada sang it sometimes, too," Elrond adds. "But the version he knew was in Quenya."
"That makes sense," Maglor says, sounding puzzled. "If it had been passed down through Fingolfin and Turgon… But how would Elwing have known it?"
"She said it was an old family song," Elrond says, just as confused.
***
"We'll build our walls aluminum, we'll fill our mouths with cinnamon," Elwing sings. Music is supposed to be a gift of her family, but she can barely manage this song, words promising a safe and bountiful home, when what they have is this ramshackle haven at the edge of the world.
"These currents pull us 'cross the border," a deeper voice joins in from the doorway. "Steady your boats, arms to shoulder…"
Eärendil enters the twins' room, coming up behind her to slide an arm around her shoulders. "It's a good song," he says quietly, and looks at the babies sleeping in their clumsy bassinet. "Full of hope. They're going to need that."
Then, "I didn't know the Sindar knew that song, though. I thought it was only my family."
Elwing shakes her head. "No, I remember my father singing it…I think."
***
"Take up your arms, sons and daughter," Dior sings, "we will arise from the bunkers…"
He makes sure to sing quietly, not letting his clear tenor carry. These lands are no longer as safe as they were in his own childhood. But he wants to still make this trip as cheerful for his children as possible, under the circumstances.
The circumstances being his grandfather's violent death, and Dior's taking up the kingship.
"Is that one of your Nana's songs?" Elwing asks sleepily. He's carrying her, while the twins walk with Nimloth.
He holds her a little closer. "She did sing it to me, just like this," he says. "And someone else sang it to her before that. All the best songs are like that."
***
"By land, by sea, by dirigible, we'll leave our tracks untraceable now," Lúthien sings playfully, dancing her small son around to the tune and the silly words. It's a good day. Almost every day is a good day on Tol Galen. She has her husband and her son; what more could she want?
"Nana?" Dior interrupts, nose wrinkled, "what's a dirigible?"
Lúthien frowns. "You know, I don't actually know, ion-nin."
"But you know everything. Ada says so."
"Well, that's very sweet of him, but he's not quite right," Lúthien says, tapping his nose affectionately. "It's probably just a made up word. But why don't you ask your grandfather next time you see him? He's the one who taught me the song, so if anyone would know, he would."
***
"When we arrive, sons and daughters," Thingol sings under his breath, "we'll make our lives on the water…"
"What's that song about, Ada?" Lúthien pipes up from where she's skipping at his side. "It's silly. We don't live anywhere near the Sea."
Thingol pauses a moment. He hadn't meant to sing for her to listen to, exactly - it just tends to come out of him wherever he walks a noticeable distance, as they have been this afternoon. But there's no harm in telling her. He just hasn't talked about it much since meeting Melian.
"It's a song from the Journey," he says at length. "Before I met your mother, I and my brother and our people were traveling west to go over the Sea. We sang the song then about what we would find at the end."
"Your brother who went on without you?" Lúthien says inquisitively. She's been going through a phase of being curious about other people's siblings, since she has none of her own. At Thingol's nod of confirmation, she asks, "Do you still miss him?"
His throat suddenly feels thick. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Did he make up the song?"
"…No." Thingol shakes his head slowly. "It was a…a friend of mine."
***
"We'll build our walls aluminum, we'll fill our mouths with cinnamon…"
"Finwë, what in Arda is that song about?"
Finwë turns and spots his friend Elwë, and grins broadly. "It's to keep our people's spirits up as we travel," he explains. "To take their minds off the hardships of the journey and give them an idea of what awaits us."
Elwë appears to consider this for a moment. "That is all very well," he says, "but why would anyone want to fill their mouth with cinnamon? It is far too strong for such a thing, not to mention the waste."
"Of course it's ridiculous," Finwë agrees readily. "That's the point. There will be so much in Aman, and it will be so safe. It won't matter if we waste things every now and then, or use ridiculous building materials."
Elwë humphs. But he also, a few moments later, says, "Can you teach me the rest of it?"
Finwë can, and does, and soon enough the song rings through the wilderness as both Noldor and Teleri sing in chorus.
***
"When we arrive, sons and daughters…" Atya sings, and then trails off. Fëanáro frowns up at him, not understanding why his father has slowed and is no longer swinging their clasped hands to and fro, why he looks so troubled.
"Atya?" he asks. "What's the matter?"
For a long moment, Atya looks very far away. Then he shakes himself slightly, and looks down at Fëanáro with a smile.
"Nothing to worry about, yonya," he says. "I was just thinking that the song doesn't quite fit us, is all."
Well, of course it doesn't. Fëanáro doesn't have any brothers or sisters; he's Finwë's only son. But that's fine, and the song isn't supposed to be about them anyway - it's about the Great Journey.
"Does it need to?" he says. "We can make up a different one if we need one about us."
That makes Atya smile properly at last. "Maybe so, Náro. Maybe so. But we should find a spot for our picnic first."
***
"Till tides all pull our hull aground, making this cold harbor now home…"
Makalaurë frowns as his father sings under his breath. The song is familiar, but the tone doesn't seem to match it - it's meant to be a happy, excited song, but Atar's making it sound angry and vindictive.
That's pretty much been Atar's sole mood ever since the banishment was announced.
"There!" Atar calls out suddenly, breaking off the song and gesturing up ahead. "That is where we shall build our fortress, the envy of all in Tirion. Curufinwë, with me!"
He sounds more enthusiastic and less bitter than he has in weeks. Perhaps, Makalaurë dares to think as Atar and Curvo ride ahead, this can be a turning point for the better, for all of them.
***
"It's strange that your family would know the song, too," Elros ventures. Elrond knows what he means. They were told for the first six years of their lives that the Fëanorians were monsters, wholly other than them. This odd little point of commonality contrasts sharply with that.
He doesn't want to think too long on that right now, doesn't want to let it pull up all the complicated things between them.
Instead he says, "Perhaps since we do all know it, we can sing it together."
Maedhros looks hesitant. But Maglor, after a moment's hesitation, gives a small nod. "How does it go again? It has been years…we may not remember all of it."
"That's all right, it repeats a lot," Elros shrugs. "Here, I'll start--"
And they continue on through the woods, singing quietly so as not to attract unfriendly attention, but all in tune together.
"Hear all the bombs fade away, hear all the bombs fade away, hear all the bombs fade away…"
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middleearth-polls · 7 months
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Please see each moment quoted below the poll under the cut.
1. Sam finds Frodo in Cirith Ungol:
‘I can hardly believe it,’ said Frodo, clutching him. ‘There was an orc with a whip, and then it turns into Sam! Then I wasn’t dreaming after all when I heard that singing down below, and I tried to answer? Was it you?’ ‘It was indeed, Mr. Frodo. I’d given up hope, almost. I couldn’t find you.’ ‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.
2. Aragorn finds Boromir near Parth Galen
A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet. Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’ His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. ‘They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them.’ He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again. ‘Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed.’ ‘No!’ said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. ‘You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!’ Boromir smiled. ‘Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?’ said Aragorn. But Boromir did not speak again.
3. Pippin finds Merry in Minas Tirith:
Pippin’s face was anxious. ‘Well, you had better come with me as quick as you can,’ he said. ‘I wish I could carry you. You aren’t fit to walk any further. They shouldn’t have let you walk at all; but you must forgive them. So many dreadful things have happened in the City, Merry, that one poor hobbit coming in from the battle is easily overlooked.’ ‘It’s not always a misfortune being overlooked,’ said Merry. ‘I was overlooked just now by – no, no, I can’t speak of it. Help me, Pippin! It’s all going dark again, and my arm is so cold.’ ‘Lean on me, Merry lad!’ said Pippin. ‘Come now! Foot by foot. It’s not far.’ ‘Are you going to bury me?’ said Merry. ‘No, indeed!’ said Pippin, trying to sound cheerful, though his heart was wrung with fear and pity. ‘No, we are going to the Houses of Healing.’
4. Bilbo reunites with Thorin after the Battle of Five Armies
‘Farewell, good thief,’ [Thorin] said. ‘I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate.’ Bilbo knelt on one knee filled with sorrow. "‘Farewell, King under the Mountain!’ he said. ‘This is a bitter adventure, if it must end so; and not a mountain of gold can amend it. Yet I am glad that I have shared in your perils - that has been more than any Baggins deserves.’ ‘No!’ said Thorin. ‘There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!’ Then Bilbo turned away, and he went by himself, and sat alone wrapped in a blanket, and, whether you believe it or not, he wept until his eyes were red and his voice was hoarse. He was a kindly little soul.
5. Beleg and Túrin reunite in the woodlands
As night drew down they were all gathered about him, and Ulrad brought a brand from the little fire that was lit in the cave-mouth. But at that moment Túrin returned. Coming silently, as was his custom, he stood in the shadows beyond the ring of men, and he saw the haggard face of Beleg in the light of the brand. Then he was stricken as with a shaft, and as if at the sudden melting of a frost tears long unshed filled his eyes. He sprang out and ran to the tree. ‘Beleg! Beleg!’ he cried. ‘How have you come hither? And why do you stand so?’ At once he cut the bonds from his friend, and Beleg fell forward into his arms.
6. Gollum finds Frodo and Sam asleep
Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo’s knee – but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.
7. Húrin and Morwen reunite at their son's grave
But suddenly her eyes looked into his, and then Húrin knew her; for though they were wild now and full of fear, a light still gleamed in them hard to endure: the elven-light that long ago had earned her her name, Eledhwen, proudest of mortal women in the days of old. ‘Eledhwen! Eledhwen!’ Húrin cried; and she rose and stumbled forward, and he caught her in his arms. ‘You come at last,’ she said. ‘I have waited too long.’ ‘It was a dark road. I have come as I could,’ he answered. ‘But you are late,’ she said, ‘too late. They are lost.’ ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But you are not.’ ‘Almost,’ she said. ‘I am spent utterly. I shall go with the sun. They are lost.’ She clutched at his cloak. ‘Little time is left,’ she said. ‘If you know, tell me! How did she find him?’ But Húrin did not answer, and he sat beside the stone with Morwen in his arms; and they did not speak again. The sun went down, and Morwen sighed and clasped his hand and was still; and Húrin knew that she had died.
8. Isildur's son encourages Isildur to leave
Elendur, not yet harmed, sought Isildur. He was rallying the men on the east side where the assault was heaviest, for the Orcs still feared the Elendilmir that he bore on his brow and avoided him. Elendur touched him on the shoulder and he turned fiercely, thinking an Orc had crept behind. ‘My King,’ said Elendur, ‘Ciryon is dead and Aratan is dying. Your last counsellor must advise, nay command you, as you commanded Ohtar. Go! Take your burden, and at all costs bring it to the Keepers: even at the cost of abandoning your men and me!’ ‘King's son,’ said Isildur, ‘I knew that I must do so; but I feared the pain. Nor could I go without your leave. Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.’ Elendur kissed him. ‘Go! Go now!’ he said.
9. Lúthien finds Beren in Tol-in-Gaurhoth
Then side by side from stone to stone o'er Sirion they climbed. Alone unmoving they him found, who mourned by Felagund, and never turned to see what feet drew halting nigh. 'A! Beren, Beren!'came her cry, 'almost too late have I thee found? Alas! that here upon the ground the noblest of the noble race in vain thy anguish doth embrace! Alas! in tears that we should meet who once found meeting passing sweet!' Her voice such love and longing filled he raised his eyes, his mourning stilled, and felt his heart new-turned to flame for her that through peril to him came.
10. Eärendil is greeted by Eönwë and asks the Valar for help
Therefore he turned back at last towards the sea; but even as he took the shoreward road one stood upon the hill and called to him in a great voice, crying: ‘Hail Eärendil, of mariners most renowned, the looked for that cometh at unawares, the longed for that cometh beyond hope! Hail Eärendil, bearer of light before the Sun and Moon! Splendour of the Children of Earth, star in the darkness, jewel in the sunset, radiant in the morning!’ That voice was the voice of Eönwë, herald of Manwë, and he came from Valimar, and summoned Eärendil to come before the Powers of Arda. And Eärendil went into Valinor and to the halls of Valimar, and never again set foot upon the lands of Men. Then the Valar took counsel together, and they summoned Ulmo from the deeps of the sea; and Eärendil stood before their faces, and delivered the errand of the Two Kindreds. Pardon he asked for the Noldor and pity for their great sorrows, and mercy upon Men and Elves and succour in their need. And his prayer was granted.
11. Galadriel shows Gimli understanding and kindness
‘[...] If our folk had been exiled long and far from Lothlórien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass nigh and would not wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of dragons? ‘Dark is the water of Kheled-zâram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-nâla, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dûm in Elder Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone.’ [Galadriel] looked upon Gimli, who sat glowering and sad, and she smiled. And the Dwarf, hearing the names given in his own ancient tongue, looked up and met her eyes; and it seemed to him that he looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy and saw there love and understanding. Wonder came into his face, and then he smiled in answer. He rose clumsily and bowed in dwarf-fashion, saying: ‘Yet more fair is the living land of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!’
12. Merry, Pippin and Sam tell Frodo that they will stick to him
‘It all depends on what you want,’ put in Merry. ‘You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours – closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid – but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.’ ‘And after all, sir,’ added Sam, ‘you did ought to take the Elves’ advice. Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can’t deny it.’ ‘I don’t deny it,’ said Frodo, looking at Sam, who was now grinning. ‘I don’t deny it, but I’ll never believe you are sleeping again, whether you snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure. ‘You are a set of deceitful scoundrels!’ he said, turning to the others. ‘But bless you!’ he laughed, getting up and waving his arms, ‘I give in. I will take Gildor’s advice. If the danger were not so dark, I should dance for joy. Even so, I cannot help feeling happy; happier than I have felt for a long time. I had dreaded this evening.’
Quote sources
J. R. R. Tolkien – The Lord of the Rings
J. R. R. Tolkien – The Hobbit
J. R. R. Tolkien, edit. Christopher Tolkien – The Silmarillion
J. R. R. Tolkien, edit. Christopher Tolkien – The Children of Húrin
J. R. R. Tolkien, edit. Christopher Tolkien – Unfinished Tales of Numenor and Middle-earth
J. R. R . Tolkien, edit. Christopher Tolkien – The Lays of Beleriand
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cuthalions · 1 year
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TÚRIN was the name of the eldest child of Húrin and Morwen, and he was born in that year in which Beren came to Doriath and found Lúthien Tinúviel [...] He was dark-haired as his mother, and promised to be like her in mood also; for he was not merry, and spoke little, though he learned to speak early and ever seemed older than his years. Túrin was slow to forget injustice or mockery; but the fire of his father was also in him, and he could be sudden and fierce. Yet he was quick to pity, and the hurts or sadness of living things might move him to tears; and he was like his father in this also, for Morwen was stern with others as with herself. He loved his mother, for her speech to him was forthright and plain; but his father he saw little, for Húrin was often long away from home with the host of Fingon that guarded Hithlum’s eastern borders, and when he returned his quick speech, full of strange words and jests and half-meanings, bewildered Túrin and made him uneasy.
— THE CHILDREN OF HÚRIN, CHAPTER I: THE CHILDHOOD OF TÚRIN
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aotearoa20 · 7 days
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Penance: Part One. One/Two/Three
The little messenger of the Valar was actually very lucky to have found them all together at the same time.
There were many rooms and long corridors in Mandos. Ambarussa had found Curufin in this one some time ago, on the small outcropping of rock by an underground waterfall. And he would not be moved. He sat with a form that was barely distinguishable and stared out at where the water hit the pool, causing a continuous spray of bioluminescence.
Caranthir had no intention of lingering beside his brother’s bitterness. He wandered, often to the Halls of Vaire. He met his grandmother and her handmaidens. Sometimes he looked for news in the tapestries. Sometimes he could persuade the solemn to give him work. They never let him do more than untangle threads but in a being barely corporeal, it was enough of a challenge to keep him for utter boredom.
Ambarussa wandered too, Amras trailing after his twin as he showed every nook and cranny left in the Halls. But they returned now and again, trying to coax their brothers into their explorations. Celegorm followed them once or twice but usually remained within eyeshot of the little room with the waterfall.
It was pure chance that Caranthir had ended at back there at the same time as the twins and nothing was said of it. They didn’t speak all that much, well, save Amrod who never really stopped. He seemed scared of the empty space.
Mandos is quiet. For weary broken souls, the silence is a balm. A space to reorient and to heal. But Amrod has long come to terms with himself. Amrod is long healed and Caranthir knows the dark quiet has been smothering him. He thinks he may go mad and could almost laugh at the irony.
A light appeared in the doorway and it was strange. There was light down here. Green flamed lamps and plants that glowed hues of violet and blue. But this was different. This was warm and too bright for his imagined eyes. The figure obscured its glare was tangible enough for his footsteps to echo.
"What news, friend?" Amrod smiled.
Caranthir shivered. It’s eerie the ease with which Amrod could speak with Namo’s Maiar. Their presence still filled him witth a sense of dread, though this one didn’t seem to. Celegorm stood as it drew near but made no move towards it. There was somethingwrong about it. It was too bright, too solid -
“I’m looking for Maedhros Fëanorian.”
There was a beat of silence before Amrod grinned, “You are not dead”
There was a excitement in his voice that sounded nearly like a threat. The stranger lowered the lamp and as his face came into view, Caranthir was almost certain he knew him.
“Lúthien,” he heard Celegorm whisper and with that he was certain.
“You’re Elros’ brother” he said as he rose to his feet. The elf opened his mouth to reply but for a moment no words come out. As if he didn’t know where to pursue his first question or ask a new one.
“He came this way before he left.” Caranthir continued making the choice for him, “He also asked for Nelyo.”
“I am Elrond Peredhel.”
Half Elven. Dior’s grandson. He would have been the Prince of Doriath if fate and his family had been kinder.
“But you are not following him?”
He would have assumed so. He knew their own twins dealt ill with being parted. Elros had not stayed long. Caranthir’s remembered thinking of asking him to carry a message to the otherside. Perhaps he should have.
But it would appear this one was not bound for the Doors of Night. Amrod was right, he was still living and evenso he could sense a solidness to his fëa that his brother did not have.
“No.”
“What do you want?,” Curufin's voice cut sharp from his little crevice of stone.
“To speak with Maedhros.” Elrond replied, undeterred by the coldness of it. 
“Why?”
Caranthir took a breath he didn’t need, ready to defend the poor boy from whatever was about to leave his brother’s mouth when they were both silenced.
“Elrond?”
They all turned to the shadowed door.
Maedhros had arrived so close to fading, they feared they would lose him forever. Even now his fëa was barely a wisp of a thing. It was as if the darkness had found a voice.
“So for this one he’ll appear, but we are not so worthy,” Celegorm doesn’t quite growl but Caranthir elbowed him as hard as an incorporeal spirit can elbow another. He might scare Nelyo away for another hundred years.
“Maedhros…” Elrond began, the word hung in the air a moment before he shook his head and looked away, “I have petitioned the Valar for your release.”
“Little pity,” Amras echoed softly.
Elrond turned to the voice and nodded, “but not none at all, I have come to you all with a proposition”
“All of us?” Celegorm said in surprise, he like the rest, assumed any bargaining would be for Nelyo alone. But the half-elf smiled and went to sit on a small shelf of rock. His grip on the lamp shook faintly as he placed it down.
He took a breath and said, “The Valar, Namo especially, have no desire to keep you in here until the world’s breaking. Some of you have been in these Halls longer than Morgoth himself and your crimes though terrible could not be counted as worse than his.”
Caranthir didn’t intend to laugh, but Celegorm chuckled beside him and he found he could not help himself.
“Even so,” Elrond stared at them both unimpressed, “There are many who would argue most of the great woes of the world came to being at Morgoth’s first release and the Valar would have you free to sow discord in Aman. If you were to return there would be conditions.”
Unease shivered through his fëa. Caranthir wasn’t sure he wanted to know of whatever deal Elrond teased out of the Valar. Return would be a curse while the Oath hung over them. Here at least it slept once they realised there could be no escape from the Halls. Better they languish here until Maglor deigned to joined them, and with him any chance of reclaiming the last of their own. And then to Darkness, whatever that entailed. Compared to rhe alternative it would be a relief.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the boy’s efforts. Misguided though they were he had no reason to go through the trouble. It was sweet really.
“You would be put under the responsibility of one of the Valar and under their service – ”
Never mind, he was a petty bastard. Caranthir almost respected him for it. He laughed again, harsh and deliberate. This had to be a joke.
“That’s no reprieve, it is another prison.” Curufin had no face with which to glare. The flickering mist the made him up seemed to pulse and condense in on itself.
“But we could be free of this place.” Amras muttered, wincing more out of habit than anything else as his twin gripped his shoulder.
“To what end?” Curufin hissed, “Are we to be thralls until the end of time?”
“The Valar agreed they would be poor judges of the length of such service. A small council was appointed to judge when it would be safe for you to be left free and unchecked. Olwë, Elwing and Nimloth. Idril also was asked but she said would trust in the wisdom of the three.”
“Then we should be slaves forever! Who would agree to such a bargain?!”
More was said, by most of them, with far less grace. Caranthir himself had no desire to be the lackey of any of the Powers. He was quite comfortable down here, awaiting their doom in his own dread and despair and he was more happy to explain that to the little upstart.
Elrond sat patient enough until their protests died down.
“I have spoken with my father,” he said, quietly softly now, his eyes landed on each of them, “He said if you would agree to these terms, he would return to you the last of the Silmarils for as long as it was necessary to release from your Oath.”
The silence that fell was black and cloying. Maedhros had told them he and Maglor had watched over the peredhel twins for a time. He’d said little more, only to get him off his case, the last time they had been visited by other. Given the extent the Oath had ravaged him by the time he arrived here, they all gathered that it would not have been a pleasant experience for any involved.
He studied the boy’s gentle expression. Did he know the power he held over them all in a single sentence? He must. He must know he could get them to agree to anything for the sake of that offer. It would be a fitting and complete vengeance for this prince of the Sindar to hold the fate of them all at his mercy. Except he couldn’t align such cunning with the person before him.
And for all the humiliation being at the beck and call of the Valar would be, given the truly limitless possibilities, it was a fairly tame punishment. Perhaps it would have to be for the Powers to agree to it.
“What of our father?” Celegorm said suddenly, his voice strangely void of its usual elegance, “and Maglor, we don’t even know where he is.”
“This offer is open to all of you, I can go no further into Mandos like this but Namo said he would speak to Feanor” Elrond sighed, “As for Maglor, he is found. He rests in my house.”
“Is he alright.” Maedhros asked in a tight voice.
“He is not,” Elrond replied and for some strange reason he seemed grieved, “He will not allow himself to be helped but has conceded to follow whichever fate you choose. I... it is not a choice to taken lightly, but please don’t tarry, for his sake.”
“We will do it,” Curufin spoke up. He paid no heed to the stared that stares leveled his way, instead he turned to Maedhros, “We have to don’t we? What use is there debating it?"
Maedhros sighed so deeply him might have dissipated himself into dust. But he nodded and all at once Caranthir’s grip on eternity pitched once again. He had half a mind to resist it. He did not have to agree to this deal that he had not hand in shaping or bargaining. There were too many loop holes that could be explored and exploited both ways. But a familiar heaviness gripped him and turned his tongue to lead. He could not risk Elrond recinding his offer by asking too many questions.
The smile on the half elf’s face was drenched with relief. If he didn’t know better Caranthir would have thought the lantern itself shone brighter at the news. He couldn’t fathom why. His head hurt, so little has happened for so long, for everything he knew to change once more! But to be free... Such hope was as sharp as a knife pericing the depths of his fea. He tore it out and shook his head. Free to do what?
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velvet4510 · 11 days
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I guess I’m one of those weirdos who so deeply feels the essence of an instrumental leitmotif from a film score associated with a particular character or couple, that I start associating said leitmotifs in my head with ANOTHER character from an entirely different film/book/series. And I’ve built up a whole library of leitmotifs for LOTR characters even though I ADORE Howard Shore’s original score and wouldn’t change it for anything. I consider these leitmotifs to be add-ons, NOT replacements. Nor do I intend to completely dissasociate these themes from their intended films/characters. It’s just my mind going wild like usual.
In some cases, the characters these themes were originally written for don’t resemble the corresponding LOTR characters very much, or at all. It’s just the melodies on their own, without context, that have come to remind me of a particular Tolkien figure. In other cases, they resemble them exactly.
I mostly have found lots of “love themes”, both romantic and platonic, for Middle Earth relationships, as you’ll see. I know Shore already gave Aragorn & Arwen one, but as I said, these are all extra additions and not replacements.
I sadly have yet to find a theme that reminds me enough of Samwise Gamgee, my favorite character, to officially include it here. But I’m totally open to suggestions from fellow weirdos who also tend to do this!
And yes I have a lot of Star Wars stuff in here, because I love Star Wars…but I love Tolkien more.
For the heck of it I’ll share some of these. It’s hard to explain why I made these choices/associations, but maybe you’ll get it if you listen to some of them. (All these are on YT.)
Frodo = “Romeo,” composed by Nino Rota
Aragorn = “The John Dunbar Theme” by John Barry
Gandalf = “Yoda’s Theme” by John Williams
Lúthien = “Jill’s America” by Ennio Morricone
Éowyn = “Rey’s Theme” by John Williams
The Valar = “Guardians of the Whills Suite” by Michael Giacchino
The land of Valinor = “Out of Africa” by John Barry
Frodo x Sam = “Love Theme from Ben-Hur” by Miklos Rozsa
Beren x Lúthien = “Speak Softly Love” by Nino Rota
Faramir x Éowyn = “Han Solo and the Princess” by John Williams
Aragorn x Arwen = “Love Theme from Cinema Paradiso” by Ennio Morricone
Sam x Rosie = “Love Theme from Dances with Wolves” by John Barry
Bilbo x Thorin = “Midnight Cowboy” by John Barry
Thingol x Melian = “Indecent Proposal” by John Barry (unfitting title, obviously, but very fitting song by itself)
Fingon x Maedhros = “Wuthering Heights” by Alfred Newman
Legolas & Gimli - “Rain Man” by Hans Zimmer
Boromir & Faramir - “Luke and Leia” by John Williams
Bilbo & Frodo - “The Mother’s Love” by Miklos Rozsa (melody is heard in the first minute of this track, 0:00–1:01, and again towards the end; also, the love theme I associate with Frodo & Sam starts playing at 1:03, making this whole thing fit all the hobbits even better)
I may edit this as I think of more.
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actual-bill-potts · 10 months
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There had been a terrible snapping, wrenching sound; then some sort of - fight, accompanied by the sounds of rending flesh and snapping teeth; then those awful green eyes had gone out, and all was silent.
In the dark, something warm and wet touched Beren’s leg. It spread, filling his nostrils with the scent of iron as it did so, and he realized that it was blood.
He could not see.
"Nóm?" he whispered in the darkness; then, louder, "Nóm!"
Do not be dead, please do not be dead, he chanted within his thought. Or maybe he was saying it aloud, it was difficult to be sure -
There was a sound. A faint gurgling whistle. He had heard it often enough -
From the dying.
It came again.
"Nóm, please," he begged again. "Answer me."
Finally, from the dark, a voice. "Beren?"
"Nóm! Are you alright?"
Silence. Another wheezing breath. Then the voice again, a hint of a laugh. "I have been - better."
"What - what is wrong? Where are you? I can - try to help -" Beren broke off. What could he do, even if he could reach the king?
Another pause.
"I am - cold," Finrod said. "Can you -"
Silence.
"Can I…?" Beren prompted. Do not die, do not leave me in the dark alone, please -
There was a shifting sound in the dark, skin against stone. A fresh wave of warmth washed against Beren’s leg. Then an indrawn hiss, as of pain.
"I - cannot reach you," said Nóm. He sounded near tears. "Always - reaching out my hand. But I could never - cross the chasm."
It was useless to wrench against his chains, but Beren tried anyway; then he stretched his abused muscles, his stiffened back, toward the sounds he had heard. There was more blood. So much blood. Warmth all around. But Finrod was unreachable.
"I am sorry," said Beren. He could not think what else to say. "I am so sorry. So sorry."
"Do not - be sorry," said Nóm from the dark. "I go only to - rest. My long rest, in the - timeless halls beyond the seas and mountains of Aman."
His voice was gentle.
"Will you come back?" asked Beren, as if he were a little child.
Another hiss of breath. "It will be long ere I am seen among the - the Noldor again."
"But you can - can come back to us. To me," said Beren. He could not weep; he had not the water. "Or - I can come to you."
A hitch of breath. It could have been a sob. "Ah - please, Beren, dearest son of my heart. I - would if I could. Balan - had hope. That we -"
He broke off. A breath. A second breath. Rasping and uneven.
"That we - would meet again. Someday. But - it may be that - that we shall not meet a second time in death or life."
"Do not leave me," said Beren. His eyes remained dry; yet he was weeping.
"I - would not, an I could change it. But the - fates of our - kindreds are - apart."
"Nóm, please," said Beren. His throat was dry. Finrod’s breaths were so faint and so terrible. "Nóm, but a little further, and you can reach me. I can try -"
What could he try?
He could at least offer warmth. Elves healed quickly, or so he was told.
They did not die quickly. This he knew intimately.
Another shifting sound. A dull thump, another wave of blood. A hacking cough. It went on and on. Then the hitching breaths Beren had heard too often, that meant Finrod was weeping.
Beren made nonsense soothing sounds. "It will be alright," he said. "Nóm, it will be alright, hush. A little more, and you can rest."
Finally the breaths evened out again. In - a catch - out.
"Beren," said Finrod. Then again, "Beren. You live?"
"I live," said Beren.
"It is so cold," said Finrod.
"I know," said Beren. "I know. I am sorry."
"Do not - sorry. I wanted - to dance at your wedding."
Beren could not speak.
"You will have a - a wedding, won’t you?" said Finrod. "A - lovely one. Declare - your love for all to see."
"We will have a wedding," said Beren. He knew it was a lie; but it did not feel like one, there in the dark.
"A wedding," said Finrod. "Would have - danced with Lúthien. Sewn for you a - marriage tunic. With my own hands. In the manner of - a father."
"I am grateful," said Beren. "We would have welcomed you with joy."
Breath. Pause. Breath.
Pause.
Pause.
"Nóm," said Beren. "Don’t - please - please -"
Farewell, said a voice that was and was not the voice of Finrod. A little breeze lifted Beren’s hair away from his eyes.
Then there were no more breaths.
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gwaedhannen · 3 months
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End of Year Fic Recs
Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).
Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.
Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).
Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.
Open tag courtesy of @grey-gazania. No-pressure tagging everyone here and anyone else who wants to participate.
All Tolkien stuff. Mind the tags on AO3. Nothing Explicit but some Mature.
5 series/multichapter fics:
1. sir, take it easy by @exercise-of-trust (Maglor, Finrod, Celegorm, Maglor/Maglor's Wife)
“I thought you were adamant that no music was bad. And what would do you suggest, that we go back to Ráincë’s parallels in fifth, or Ambalincë’s discant exercises in fourth? Those were old before either of us were born, and you know it.” “I am not saying it is bad. I am saying that to me it sounds like all the fiends of Morgoth, but worse, because the fiends of Morgoth were not taking a clausula I wrote for my parents’ anniversary and mangling it. However, as its inclusion in this anthology shows, there are other people who like it, and while I do not understand it, I am not about to give up my Neldor or my Palecéva because the wind of scholarly opinion has blown against them from time to time.”
2. Spun by Grace by SpaceWall (Galadriel, Lúthien, Maeglin)
“Did you see them? The kinslayers who took your Nana? Who tried to take you?” “Ada says I did, but I don’t remember them. I don’t remember anything, except Nana screaming.” “Did your Ada say anything after? Aside from telling you to hide and stay safe.” The child nodded, bravely, and said in as clear a voice as he could manage. “He said they took Nana because she was bad. He said she was a kinslayer like them, and I had kinslayer blood in me, and they’d take me too if I wasn’t good.”
3. An Oral History of Dying in the Dagor Bragollach by Beleriand Death Trip (too many characters to list)
Please note that all participants were recently rehoused, but not extremely recently (this is regarded as unethical in our field). They have all had the opportunity to reflect on historical events after their death, both during their stay in the Halls and after being rehoused. We do not regard this as “contamination” of their recollection for our purposes, but rather as part of the normal process of narrative formation.
4. Foresight by @aotearoa20 (Fëanor and sons)
“He’s so small,” he said, not softly, “Such a beautiful baby.” “I know. He’s mine.” Fëanáro glared, he dared not do anything else. “You should appreciate it while it lasts,” when he smiled and the scar on his lip twisted strangely, “He’ll not be either for long.”
5. The Hazards of Love by @aipilosse (Finrod/Amarië, Anairë, Findis, Elwing)
Excerpt from The Empty House by Vatharwë Lelyindë held herself straight and tall, undaunted by Helluinon’s greater height. “You, my Lord, are free to live as you would, but others bear chains you cannot see. You speak of oaths and bonds, and yet you must see that when an oath comes in conflict, it is yours that is always the greater, and the other party must always acquiesce. So it is with me, so was it with your mother, your younger brother, and even your dearest friend!
5 single-chapter fics/one-shots:
Raised by Wolves by @warrioreowynofrohan (Elrond, Elros, Gil-Galad, Maglor, Maedhros)
“I hate him, and I do not hate him. Or, I do not hate him for cruelties. I hate him for kindnesses.”
2. The Hope of Love: Eärendil and Elwing as Symbols of Romance in Popular Culture by @imakemywings (Elwing/Eärendil)
Capping off these mesmerizing performances is Elwing’s final speech to the Teleri of Aman, a moment so fascinating that it has become the basis of many other dramatic confrontations throughout popular media. Almost anyone will recognize the line “I plead my hope,” or even its more extended version “Oh ye of foreign shores, I plead my hope. Let my home not be crushed ‘neath the boot of Bauglir,” even with no familiarity with the film. The passion of Torthoriel’s performance here has brought many a moviegoer to tears and captures a moment few had before bothered with—Elwing’s part in gaining the aid of Aman.
3. the bones of small contention by @quixoticanarchy (Celegorm, Oromë)
“You see, evil haunts a hungry man. If he eats his fill, he is called immoral; if he refuses, he will starve honorably. But free is the man who realizes that there is no satiety to be had, and equally there is no reward waiting in starvation. If my end shall be evil regardless, then my deeds matter not. I may eat as I please, and in that transgression, I find some shadow of liberation. A kind of laughter, almost - a light and wild feeling, like the moment after releasing an arrow, or the moment after the plunge off a cliff. You would not understand.”
4. all the daughters of my father's house (and all the brothers too) by Chestnut_pod (Fin-Galad)
These are the things ladies are, in the songs that are told of Finduilas and Niënor, her mirror: Love. Beauty. Laughter. Inconstance. Haunting. Sorrow. Screaming. Silence. In fact, the tales are not told of them. They are merely there. Many songs are written of Gil-Galad. Centuries after his death, Hobbit-children learn to sing of him.
5. Fire From The Ashes by @herenortherenearnorfar (Nienna, a Balrog)
“There is a terrible pain to conciousness,” Nienna acknowledges. She has not yet let go. “I just want to be an instrument.” Coals glow bright for a moment in the wind and then fade. “I was made to remake worlds, not feel this guilt.”
5 oldies but goodies (fair warning these are all liable to make you cry):
1. The legacy of a failure by from_the_wood (Frodo, Merry's Granddaughter, Merry, Pippin, Sam)
That's the thing with despair: it wants to erase everything, all of you, all that had been, or could have been - kind word, memory, hope for the future - but it cannot do so. It cannot. It should not.
2. An Oral History of the End of Innocence by @ceescedasticity (House of Olwë, Galadriel)
I think Hawser Road probably had the highest proportion of… Noldor swung their swords at a moving group and hit Noldor. Lindar shot arrows into crowds and hit Lindar. Noldor tried to ride down Lindar and also rode down Noldor. Lindar trying to get away trampled Lindar. Torches everywhere — I have never been so grateful the city is mostly stone, but wagons set on fire, sheds and stalls and barrels set on fire, there were some wooden additions… Panicked horses. Panicked cows, of all things, who brings cows when you're fleeing the gods to fight another god. There was so much screaming.
3. The One With All The Birds by @clothonono (Elwing/Eärendil, Elrond, Nerdanel, Sons of Fëanor)
What was her desire? "I desire my father, given back to me again," she said. "And my mother, and my brothers too. And my people, and my home, and all the years of my children's lives. Can the Lords of the West grant me this?" No one answered. Everyone knew the answer. "Equally I might desire that my enemy be punished. Let him go to the Halls of Mandos, whence none escape. Let me know that he is prisoned, so that I may gladly walk free." Is this your desire? "No," said Elwing. "I already told you my desire. Let justice be done. There is no vengeance that will satisfy me; there is no redress that can restore to me my father, my mother, my brothers, my home, and my children. There is nothing I want that he or you can give to me."
4. To Love What Is Mortal by @astridbecks (Lúthien/Thuringwethil)
Splintering pain as she was torn apart, yet as she parted beneath the hands of Lúthien there was a curious want mingled with the agony – strip me of this darkness, lay bare my soul, remake me – break me – and she had known pain before, had always known pain, but this was new and different and somehow right. (hurt me, because I deserve it. break me and make me as clean as you.)
5. woman into bird by @arrivisting (Elwing/Eärendil, Idril, Tuor, Elrond, Elros)
This is the best gift parents doomed to die can give their half-elven children, after all: to spare them the sight of their ends.
5 of mine from 2023:
1. Kill the Flame (Galadriel, the whole 3rd Finwean generation)
For Angrod, laughing at everything and everyone. You were an ass but you were our ass. You taught me patience, however little you meant to! For Aegnor, firebrand of our family. You saved me when the cold of the Ice tore into my heart. From you, I learned when to burn, and when to smoulder. For Finrod, dearest brother. What can I say? What words would suffice? Your ring’s bearer is worthy of his ancestors. I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you.
2. The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You (Elrond & Elwing)
He sends radiant wings, dark hair streaked with silver, a queen’s pride, laughter among the waves, lembas, handkerchiefs. He receives home, with such ardentness that he weeps for a week.
3. Sorrow Beyond Words, Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath (Finarfin, Lalwen)
The Valar said that he could no longer twist elves into orcs even by the time of his first imprisonment, but from the conditions there, from the bodies we pulled out…I don’t think he cared. Every torture, every debasement, every abomination against the Eruchîn that could be imagined. For each we thought might survive if we got them to the surface, there were five who wouldn’t, and ten corpses.
4. Shall we look at the moon, my little loon? (Aerin, Aerin's mother)
Aerin stands in her mother’s dress before the looking glass, eyes unseeing. Hitheth adorns her with the jewelry which will be her dowry, the only riches of her house, the last gift of the elves who vanished into the mists as if they never were.
5. Still-untitled "What if Fëanor took the Helcaraxë" AU (Círdan, Thingol (for now))
It's still Y.T. 1497. Morgoth hasn't had centuries to innovate his siege technology, but Círdan's cities also haven't been rebuilt with Noldor walls. The Grey Annals says Fëanáro's host arrives some seven solar years after Melian raises the Girdle. (Yes if we go by the usual "1 tree year = 9.582 solar years" then it could've been upwards of 25 solar years since the Darkening in 1495 before the landing at Losgar.) (I hate Tolkien's timelines sometimes.)
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