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morgulsquirrel · 2 years

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Ring a Dong Dillo

Author's Note: This can be blamed almost exclusively on the massive Orodruin sized espresso I am drinking. It's delicious if anyone wants to know. Normally I would apologize for my insanity and blatant ruination of wonderful characters, but I'm not actually sorry about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

The Council of Elrond was adjourned, as a decision that would change the world had been reached. Already those gathered were rising to bravely face the road of toil and hardship that surely lay before them. Some thought the plan was dastardly clever, and others like Glorfindel shook their heads seeing the doom that stretched before them.

Maybe it was because he was Noldorian, maybe it was because he was cursed, maybe it was because he had already died, or maybe it was his pessimism that made him think the Hobbit should just go ahead and deliver the ring to the Dark Lord for all the good the Council's insane proposal would do. Wisdom could not fathom the insanity of the decision that had been made. With a frustrated huff, the great elf lord turned on his heal in a swish of flowing robes and knee length golden hair, and made with all haste to Elrond's chambers in a last ditch attempt to return some sanity to the world.

Needless to say, the poor elf never made it, for he had been gobbled by plot balrogs along the way.

Dates were set, letters were delivered to Lothlorien and Mithlond, petitions were signed, and nine messengers willing to brave a run in with the Ringwraiths who had thus far remained unseen and unheard since the flooding of the river, at last were sent on their quest -though scholars would later suggest that they were kicked out for gluttonous overeating, general debauchery, and the site of a mortal man publicly snogging an elf lord's daughter.

One elf, one dwarf, one homeless Magnito, two men, four hobbits, and a pony with legendarily good fortune set out on their perilous journey west.

The ten unlikely companions marched for days, retracing the circuitous route the Hobbits had travelled getting to Rivendell in the first place.

Over fields and through fens, through thick briar patches and over thin rivers, across Midge Swamp and over the Barrow Downs, the nine weary and very smelly companions dropped to their knees on the border of Tom Bombadil's small country.

The world was calling…sort of.

Eru had pulled a page from Morgoth's book deciding to be cruel and merciless for a day. He needed to be entertained, and so the nine companions lamented, and mournfully Frodo sang the words the mysterious being had taught him.

Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!

By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,

By fire, sun and moon, hearken now and hear us!

Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!

Far through Tom's little country the wind carried the little song. The entire world was calling. With blue eyes glittering and keen ears harkening Tom answered the summons. The Nine Walkers heard his voice singed long before saw him.

From out of the Old Forest and across the river and over grassy hills Tom ran to them singing.

His eyes sparkled as he happily met the Hobbits once more. To Gandalf he gave a small bow before warmly greeting their new friends from Rivendell.

"Well met. Well met." He smiled to the Hobbits. "Too long it seems to have been, and all too soon it truly is."

The letters and the petition, ratified by thousands of signatures from Lorien, Mithlond, and Rivendell were glumly handed to the strange good natured being.

The twinkle faded from his eyes and his ever laughing smile faltered. Every line of every letter he read and every signature counted. When the last letter had been folded, and stowed in one of the pockets of his bright blue jacket he stood still before them, bright eyes staring at a far off thing that none among the Nine Walkers could see.

For a time only the feather in his hat twitched in a tiny breeze. And then all at once the smile return, though it there was a glumness to it the Hobbits had not ever seen.

"So be it."

With a flurry he turned and raced up a nearby hill, and to pause at top and yell. "I need to pack a few things!"

Into his house Tom Bombadil flew with a bushel of water lilies for his lovely Goldberry. Tenderly laid them at her feet. "There are more out back: plenty to keep you company until I can return."

He didn't sing and neither did she. For a long moment they looked into each other's eyes, both seeing the path that had been laid at his feet, and the doom that lay before.

Their lips met in a kiss, soft and tender. It said all that words could not, and for both them it ended far too quickly. But when he pulled away Tom somehow managed to be smiling.

He left Goldberry gazing sadly after him, and swiftly returned to the nine companions.

"I take my leave to do as has been wished."

Without waiting for a response he stepped over the boundary of his lands as he had not in over an age. In a flurry of blue and yellow he left, jogging over grass and twigs, until he was out of view, and only his nonsensical musical rhyme could be heard.

Skipping and singing Tom Bombadil crossed rivers and streams. He reentered forests and sang to trees he had not seen in a very long time. The journey was bittersweet as memories of happier days and darker times melded into one giant image behind his eyes. Times when men were truly great, the elven lords fiery and fierce, the Dark Lord far greater than the one he had been asked to meet.

His songs grew thin and his heart grew heavy as he travelled closer to Mordor. And long before the Black Gate had come into view his pace had slowly to a mournful walk as grieved for the loss of greenery and life that had once been so abundant.

The grey clouds were sickening and saddening to behold. But undaunted Tom stood before the perilous eyes of the guards on the gate. His blue jacket fluttered. The feather scratched faintly against the soft fabric of his hat. His yellow boots, bright like the sun in such a place, burned the eyes of the orcs and trolls above. And for a long moment everything seemed strangely quiet.

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,

Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.

None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:

His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.

Sing if your voice be not lost like your pretty visage,

A boot to the furry rump, will send the wolf pup baying,

For more there is to lose than just a pretty image

Cast into the Void far beyond the nightly doors,

If a worse fate doesn't find him faster!

He who was most admired!

Come never here again! Leave your tower and face me!

Lost and forgotten you shall be, darker than the darkness,

Behind your bruised backside the gates will stand for ever shut,

till the world is mended.

The Eye swiveled, it's deadly gazed locked upon the nature spirit standing before the gate. On his throne the Dark Lord laughed in genuine amusement, for it had been a very long time since someone had so daringly challenged him with a song of power. And never had any challenger been so goofily dressed.

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong ding!

How sad would it be if a Maia couldn't sing!

By tenor, bass, soprano,

You may have beaten Finrod but you will not best this merry fellow,

Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

No bow sung, and death did not immediately come for Tom's Head.

Quietly the order had been given, slipping gently into the minds of the guards on the gate, that he was to go unharmed. The Master would deal with the little ingrate on his own.

The Eye's terrible gaze turned elsewhere, and laughing now with malice more than amusement. Some insults were far too offensive to let pass, and as the greatest singer on Middle Earth he had no qualms about giving the hideously dressed cur an impromptu performance, since it was what he so clearly desired.

He quickly gave a mental to command to have a horse prepared.

Dark and ominous he slowly rose from the desk he'd been sitting at and looked out one of the many great windows that did poor of job of letting any extra daylight into his study. The darkness he used to protect his lands had its disadvantages to be sure, and he had become a terrible hoarder of candles as a result. His study currently smelled of lavender and green apples, and his nose still hadn't decided if that was pleasant or not.

Power fell and terrible, long unused eagerly spread through Sauron's veins as he looked out with over the plains of Gorgoroth. 'It would be merciless not to tell him how this will end. Even I'm not that heartless.' Actually he was that heartless as a rule, but this unexpected visitor to his home, he found amusing enough to play nice for a while.

The air about shimmered, and all about him the room darkened. Within Orodruin's bowls the fires leapt in response to their Master's ire. A smirk vicious and cruel played across his lips even as his voice sweetly rang out across the plains and echoed in the far off the mountains.

Boy let me tell you what,

I guess you don't know it

But I'm a soloist too,

And my song will be the death you!

Now you sing pretty well and your death would be a waste,

And if you wish to live I suggest that you make haste!

But if you still care to dare,

Then I will meet you,

And I'll show you how it's done!

The Great Eye again looked toward the gate, and Sauron snorted as the little spirit stood steadfast and brave before the gate.

'Well I did warn him.'

Alone, cool, and confident Sauron rode through Barad'dur. No guards surrounded him, no banners waved behind. And every head looked up to see him though no one dared to look directly at him. This was his battle and his alone, and he would be a daunting enough image for Tom Bombadil look upon.

His ride was swift and silent, and he lead the horse in a full gallop to the farthest encampment that dared to push it. Every time he deemed a horse too tired to carry him farther at speed he switched it out for a new one. And as a result he had probably set a new record for fasted ride to the Black Gate from Barad'dur, but the only thing that mattered was that he got there as swiftly as could be.

The Guards upon the gate saw what they had never imagined to see: their Master come alone to openly sing with a man that had no fashion sense. Sauron called for a guard to tend the horse as the gate began to open. Taller than any and horrible to behold, the Dark Lord slid from the saddle and gracefully made his way to the gate.

Tom Bombadil grimaced at the horrible sound of grinding stones, the clanking o0f chains and the grunts of trolls in pain. He didn't want to know what was upon the gate, and was absolutely terrified by what was about to walk out and greet him. A host of orcs would surely take him and drag him into Mordor where the very earth and air would kill him before the Dark Lord could.

But did come out of the gate was both more terrifying and strangely relieving. The Lord of Mordor had indeed come to meet him…alone…. And that was what frightened him.

The being dark and terrible with eyes feel and burning was indeed Sauron. Of that Tom Bombadil had no doubt. From the boulder he was sitting on, just out of bow range he could feel the currently subdued power lurking under the charred ruined flesh of the fallen Maia. And the casual, relaxed gate with which the Maia walked did nothing to assure him that he had a chance of singing his way out of this one. Still this had been asked of him, and if Arda somehow benefitted from this then so be it.

He slid off the rock and dared to meet the Dark Lord's gaze. For a frighteningly long moment the two ancient spirits sized each other up. The greatest of Maiar and Arda's first native inhabitant-an echo of the old themes and the spirit for the earth incarnate- stood in a silent world of their own.

Above orcs may have been shouting at one another, but two figures below were heedless to everything but each other.

A soft breeze made Tom's hair flutter, his feather scratch against his hat, and the edges of his old blue jacket flutter. He turned his gaze inward, reaching into the heart of what he was. He was the music. He was Arda too, but it was music that gave him life, made him what he was, and the first of would have been 'Merry dols' were stifled into silence as Sauron cocked his head to the side.

"Why have you come here?"

Tom shrugged. "There was a petition."

The Lord of Mordor was silent as if unsure how to respond. Then very slowly he gave a faint nod. "I think I'd like to hear about this petition after I've taken you prisoner."

If that's what you wish O Lord of bait'n switch,

But know there's little more to tell,

For I was gathering lilies for my lovely lady,

When I heard all Middle Earth lamenting,

A petition signed and letters sent,

To keep the world from being bent,

By Eru's will it's now my time,

So I've come to bust a rhyme,

And see sent you to Valinor and tried for all your crimes!

Sauron laughed in spite and mockery. Power, no longer kept hidden, shown forth about him, and wicked grin he gave as words of his danced across his lips.

O Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadilo,

I helped form the themes of which you are an echo,

Still not too bad for a man wearing blue and yellow,

You overestimate the Valar underestimate me greatly,

For you are but a child and will not surpass me,

Eru has abandoned you,

And the Valar too,

And are no notes that will avail you,

No great powers that will save you,

You should have hopped on home,

But instead you will die here alone.

XXXXX

Thou hath gone too far,

Behold a Maia in his power!

You look upon the Lord of the Bling,

The one who forged the ruling ring,

Sauron, Gorthaur, Annatar,

All these I have been but you fail to understand,

That none of those are truly what I am,

I am the God of Middle Earth,

The only power to stay behind,

And sacrifice their time to help mankind.

Maybe that's not good enough for you thankless lot,

But it's better than what you would have got,

Nihilism is Arda's bane,

It is my love of order that will save you from that pain,

Save you letters and petitions,

Go back and give them this proposition,

That a little bit gratitude would be greatly appreciated,

Instead of their useless hatred!

I don't ask that anyone like my methods,

Only that they understand my motives!

I am not the villain here.

I have never been and will never be,

Though I can admit to mistakes aplenty

I will never be the villain unto the end.

XXXX

Hold on O Lord of Mordor,

Don't walk off before I drop the mic,

I have one last thing to say:

The end does not justify the means,

No matter how noble the intent,

And if it is order and unity that you crave,

Then you should have found another way.

As it stands you are Sauron 'The Abhorred,'

Whether you would will or no,

And this has gone on far too long for others to think differently!

Far off beyond conceptual space and time Eru laughed. He'd torn a page from Morgoth's book, having decided to be evil and cruel for a day, and as a result he was greatly entertained.

#Sauron #tom bombadil #crack!fic #fanfiction #mywriting #I don't even know #this is really really old #but I wanted to post something #and this is what I've decided to share #because in light of Amazon's mucking about what we all needed was more stupidity in the fandom...right?#satire #parody #Mairon having a weird day #Tom Bombadil probably did not leave alive #gosh this is so old

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

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If Need Be

At this point I don't know if it makes sense to anticipate everything with a brief description of the plot, but for all the possible new readers who will run into this chapter and for some strange reason haven’t seen the previous ones, this is the story of Elva, a half-elf of Mirkwood, leaving with the Fellowship in place of Legolas. The actual tale begins shortly after Gandalf's death, and it all centers around how Elva's presence impacts not only on the mission but on Haldir's life.

In this part, the Fellowship finally leaves Caras Galadhon to resume their Quest.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Words: 2448

In the morning, as they were beginning to pack their slender goods, some Elves went to Haldir’s talan to bring many gifts of food, mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside and inside was the colour of cream, and a hooded cloak.

"For someone who spends most of his time at the border, you are very popular," Elva commented, after thanking yet another visitor.

"They fear I may not come back, and they tell me that my brothers will be helped in every possible way,” the marchwarden explained. “These are lembas, or waybread, more strengthening than any food made by Men and more pleasant than the cram made in Dale. It must be eaten little at a time, for these things are given to serve when all else fails and will keep sweet for many days, if they’re unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings.”

“Those are fair garments, though,” Aragorn commented, stroking the light but warm silken fabric, the same the Galadhrim and the court wove. It was hard to say of what colour they were, as they seemed to be grey with the hue of twilight under the trees and yet, if they were moved or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves or brown as fallow fields by night; in the dusk, they looked like water under the stars, and even the brooch that fastened them, a green leaf, was veined with silver.

“They must be from the Lady,” guessed their host. “Yet, as you said, they are garments, not armours, and they won’t turn shaft or blade, only serve us well in staying out of the Enemy’s sight.”

"They seem to have done their work so far," Elva said, trying to cheer up the room and hinting that after all his wanderings he was still alive.

"Sure, and a considerable number of blades to the throat were also needed," he replied, after which silence fell, and was maintained as they walked through Caras Galadhon’s empty green streets. In the trees above them, many voices were murmuring and singing, and flashed of barely comprehensible words followed them to the lawn where the other members of the Fellowship waited and down the southward slopes of the hill, to the great gate hung with lamps until the white bridge, after which they took a path that went off into a deep thicket of mallorn trees and passed on, winding through rolling woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and eastwards, to the shores of the River, laid in a shining lawn of grass studded with golden elanor that glinted in the sun. On the right and west the Silverlode flowed glittering and on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters, deep and dark, with woodlands still marching as far as eyes could see on the southwards shores, bleak and bare, as no mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lorien. On the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the streams, there were moored many boats and barges, some brightly painted, shining with silver, gold and green tones, and some either white or grey, like the three that had been prepared for the travellers. Haldir threw some coils of slender but strong rope in each, and Sam went to inspect the workmanship, similar to that of the cloaks they wore.

“They are made of hithlain,” their guide explained, anticipating his question. “Had I known this craft delighted you, I could’ve taught you much, but at the moment I think you’ll have to settle for a theoretical explanation during breaks.”

Sam seemed satisfied by the pact, and went to take his place with Frodo on the boat captained by Aragorn; Boromir thus settled for Merry and Pippin, and Haldir for Elva and Gimli, with whom he had most bonded during their stay in Lothlorien. The boats were moved and steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready, their guide led them on a trial up the Silverlode, where the current was swift and they went forward slowly. Sam sat in the bows, clutching the sides, and looking back wistfully to the shore, the sunlight glittering on the water dazzling his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the trees drew down to the river’s brink: here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the rippling stream and the air was very bright and still, bringing only silence except for the high distant song of larks. They turned a sharp bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream towards them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck and its beak shone like burnished gold, while its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings were half lifted, and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steered it with black paddles and in the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, with his wife behind him, tall and white, a crown of golden flowers in her hair and a harp in her hands. Sand and sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clear air as she told the story of gold leave shook by the wind. As if the first vision of the Mirror had awakened in Elva an ancient memory that didn’t belonged to her, she too sang of Lorien’s first winter with bare and leafless trees, but she didn’t have the heart to finish, because it spoke of the departure beyond the Sea, of that journey that tasted like defeat and she could never face, even if she wanted to. Haldir stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside, so the Lady could tell them she had come to bid their last farewell and to speed their boats with blessings from her land. The half-elf wasn’t quite sure their intentions were that noble, but she said nothing, and ate lunch with the royals on the grass, as Celeborn suggested, speaking again of their journey.

“As you go down the water,” said the Lord, “you’ll find that the trees will fail, and you’ll come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid high moors, until at last after many leagues come the sheep shores of the tall island of Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. With great noise and smoke, the waters fall over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang, as it’s called in your tongue.; that is a wide region of sluggish fen, where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided and the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan, while on the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor. Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet they shouldn’t go too far up that stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn, a strange, little known land, but doubtless, you don’t need this warning.”

“Indeed we have heard of Fangorn in Minas Tirith,” replied the person most concerned. “But what I’ve heard seems to me for the most part old wives’ tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north to Rohan is now to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there, but it’s now many lives of men since any of us visited it to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years. Anyway, I have myself been at whiles in Rohan, but I’ve never crossed it northwards, although, when I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts of the White Mountains, and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey it was, four hundred leagues I reckoned it, and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that and the road I have trodden with this Company, I don’t much doubt I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.”

“Then I need say no more!” exclaimed Celeborn. “But don’t despise the lore that has come down from distant years, for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.”

At those advice, Galadriel rose from the grass and taking a cup from one of her maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to her husband.

“Now it’s time to drink for our farewell,” she said, and when they had all done as she commanded, chairs were set for her and Celeborn. For a while she looked upon her guests, but at last, she called each in turn, offering them gifts, starting from Aragorn, whom she addressed as the leader of the Fellowship, giving him a great stone clear green in colour, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings.

“This was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land; I gave it to my daughter Celebrian and she gave it to hers, and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!”

Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered how they hadn’t noticed before how tall and kingly he stood: “For the gift that you have given me I thank you, Lady of Lorien of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?”

The Lady bowed her head, and she turned to Boromir, giving him a belt of gold, similar to the silver ones Merry and Pippin received; to Elva, she gave a bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows, while Sam received no weapons or wealth, but only a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid, filled with earth from Galadriel’s orchard: “It won’t defend you against any peril, but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like yours, then you may remember Galadriel, and catch a glimpse far off of Lorien, that you have seen only in our Winter, for our Spring and our Summer are gone by, and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory.”

Sam went red to the ears and muttered something inaudible, as he clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.

“And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ” said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

“It’s enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words,” he replied, courteous.

“Hear all ye Elves!” she cried to those around her. “Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.”

“There’s nothing, Lady Galadriel,” said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. “Nothing, unless it might be permitted to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I don’t ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire.”

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. “It’s said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues, yet that is untrue of Gimli,” she said. “And how shall I refuse, since I commanded you to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?”

“Treasure it, Lady” he answered, “in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.”

So the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, cut off three golden hairs and laid them in Gimli’s hand: “These words shall go with the gift: I don’t foretell, for all foretelling is now vain with darkness lying on one hand and only hope in the other, but if hope shouldn’t fail, then I say to you that you hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.”

Then she addressed Frodo, and gave him a small crystal phial, glittering with rays of white light from the Earendil’s star as she moved it: “May it guide you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”

Lastly, she looked at Haldir, giving him a sheath made to fit his sword, overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold: “The blade drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,” she said, leading Elva to question again what their guide might’ve seen in the Mirror. Were those words a hidden condemnation? She couldn’t know, and after the gift that had been given to her, she couldn’t ask too. Haldir bowed, but found no words to say, so the Lady arose, and the yellow noon laid on the green land of the Tongue accompanied their last farewell, for so it seemed to them that Lorien was slipping backward, like a bright ship with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.

#haldir of lothlorien #haldir x fem oc #aragorn #arwen #aragorn x arwen #sam gamgee #boromir #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin took #gimli son of gloin #galadriel #celeborn #galadriel x celeborn #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

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tanoraqui · 4 years

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further thought on the Arkenstone being a Silmaril: maybe the reason Arwen is Lady Not-Appearing-In-This-Narrative is that as soon as the presence of the One Ring was confirmed, or at least as soon as the Fellowship set out from Rivendell, she left Lorien (where she had legitimately just been staying with her mother’s people for a while) and went, at her grandmother’s and father’s bidding, to the Lonely Mountain?

In secret, for sure, the reasons unknown perhaps even to her. A guard or two - not her brothers, though that might have been the best choice; but they would not fain leave the Dúnedain, and moreover, all three children of Elrond would be harder to hide than just one, traveling by night in elven cloaks of shadow and starlight.

I doubt the dwarves would have welcomed her, per se. Certainly none wold quite know why she was here - including, as suggested, herself. Even millennia later, there are some thing best not spoken aloud, some curses ot even tempted. But her father has turned diplomat in his old age and he taught her; her grandmother (both her grandmothers) always knew how to be gracious. Maybe she played on their pride - Elrond Halfelven, sending his only daughter to safety in Erebor, as darkness sweeps over the land. Maybe she sang a song of the glory of dwarven smiths, and won their respect for her love of their rich history. Maybe she simply commissioned them - not all trade can stop for war, and she did need gems carved and thread coiled from silver and gold and mithril - to sew into a flag, seven stars and one crown shining over a white tree.

(The world darkened, you see, but Arwen always bet on hope.)

She sent forth her flag with the Dúnedain, when a few last rangers came by before they all gathered on the road south. But Arwen stayed, the Evenstar resting hidden amid a fortress of stone.

Black forces besieged the mountain, hordes of orcs and wargs and corrupted men, just as they besieged the high white towers of Minas Tirith and the hallowed trees of Lothlorien. Did Arwen walk the halls with her voice raised in songs of war, of pride, of honor - of hope and home and that which could be won, and must be fought for? Did she works in the infirmary with healer’s hands, a could-be-queen’s hands, a lady of her people who had learned from the greatest healers in the land? Did she stand atop the high crags that served as battlements, eyes sharp for enemy movements and bright as starlight on dark nights?

And maybe, just maybe...did she find what truths she had been sent there to find. Maybe when war came before the gates - as the men of Dale who had sheltered there poured forth, with all the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain at their backs; as orcs roared, wargs howled, swords and shields and axes clashed their own terrible song...as Dain II Ironfoot, hoary with age but fierce with battle, swung his axe until he could swing no more defending the body of Brand King of Dale, son of Bain son of Bard the Bowman and Dragonslayer...

(As Lothlorien recovers from a second attack from the forces of Dol Goldur, as do the elves of Mirkwood; as far away, Aragorn consults with his generals at camp on the Fields of Pelennor, and farther yet, the Ringbearer and his gardener make their parched and exhausted way across the ravaged land of Mordor...for days after, as Lothlorien is attacked a third time and the Lords of the West march on the Black Gate and the Ringbearer climbs Mount Doom...)

Maybe Arwen sat quietly by the cairn of Thorin Oakenshield, alone or with a guard or two, and prayed that she need not open it. She would have gotten permission, I think, for it would have been ill-done otherwise - and should all lights falter save Arwen Undómiel whose time is the evening - Arwen Undómiel, daughter of one Ringbearer (the Master of the Last Homely House; healer; brother and guardian of Numenorean kings) and granddaughter of another (the Queen of the Noldor, fairest and wisest and one of the eldest) - and moreover, granddaughter of Eärendil who sails the skies with a Silmaril on his brow and Elwing who calls him home; great-great-granddaughter of Lúthien who sang Morgoth to sleep and Beren who helped her wrest the gem from his crown; and cousin and niece many-times-removed of Fëanor who first wrought the light of the Trees in glorious gems and then overturned the fate of the world for them...

...if the time should come that hers should be the last light left, it would be the time for nothing but honest alliances and a desperate flight for the western shore with any who still had the strength to flee, guided by the same bright light that once pierced Eärendil’s way to Valinor’s shores (albeit in a different gem.) Even the King Under the Mountain, I think, would not begrudge the gift, but it would be better to ask.

But ask quietly, without any words that might be overheard, or even guessed at. Because as it happens, such a time does not come - hope does not falter in the field; the ring burns and Mordor falls, and neither dooming oaths nor desperate chances need be taken. Arwen Evenstar goes south to be a Queen, and the Arkenstone stays safe within the earth, and within the guard and honor of the dwarves of Erebor, the greatest smiths living in the world today.

#lotr #lord of the rings #arwen #arwen undomiel #arwen evenstar #my fic #ficlet #the silmarillion #silmaril #arkenstone #theories #peredhel #eldar #edain

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cappadocius · 6 years

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Oldest and Fatherless - A Repost from km_515′s Livejournal from Feb 20, 2011

Old Tom Bombadil. Possibly the least liked character in The Lord of the Rings. A childish figure so disliked by fans of the book that few object to his absence from all adaptations of the story. And yet, there is another way of looking at Bombadil, based only on what appears in the book itself, that paints a very different picture of this figure of fun. What do we know about Tom Bombadil? He is fat and jolly and smiles all the time. He is friendly and gregarious and always ready to help travellers in distress. Except that none of that can possibly be true. Consider: By his own account (and by Elrond’s surprisingly sketchy knowledge) Bombadil has lived in the Old Forest since before the hobbits came to the Shire. Since before Elrond was born. Since the earliest days of the First Age. And yet no hobbit has ever heard of him. The guise in which Bombadil appears to Frodo and his companions is much like a hobbit writ large. He loves food and songs and nonsense rhymes and drink and company. Any hobbit who saw such a person would tell tales of him. Any hobbit who was rescued by Tom would sing songs about him and tell everyone else. Yet Merry – who knows all the history of Buckland and has ventured into the Old Forest many times – has never heard of Tom Bombadil. Frodo and Sam – avid readers of old Bilbo’s lore – have no idea that any such being exists, until he appears to them. All the hobbits of the Shire think of the Old Forest as a place of horror – not as the abode of a jolly fat man who is surprisingly generous with his food. If Bombadil has indeed lived in the Old Forest all this time – in a house less than twenty miles from Buckland – then it stands to reason that he has never appeared to a single hobbit traveller before, and has certainly never rescued one from death. In the 1400 years since the Shire was settled. What do we know about Tom Bombadil? He is not what he seems. Elrond, the greatest lore-master of the Third Age, has never heard of Tom Bombadil. Elrond is only vaguely aware that there was once someone called Iarwain Ben-Adar (“Oldest and Fatherless”) who might be the same as Bombadil. And yet, the main road between Rivendell and the Grey Havens passes not 20 miles from Bombadil’s house, which stands beside the most ancient forest in Middle Earth. Has no elf ever wandered in the Old Forest or encountered Bombadil in all these thousands of years? Apparently not. Gandalf seems to know more, but he keeps his knowledge to himself. At the Council of Elrond, when people suggest sending the Ring to Bombadil, Gandalf comes up with a surprisingly varied list of reasons why that should not be done. It is not clear that any of the reasons that he gives are the true one. Now, in his conversation with Frodo, Bombadil implies (but avoids directly stating) that he had heard of their coming from Farmer Maggot and from Gildor’s elves (both of whom Frodo had recently described). But that also makes no sense. Maggot lives west of the Brandywine, remained there when Frodo left, and never even knew that Frodo would be leaving the Shire. And if Elrond knows nothing of Bombadil, how can he be a friend of Gildor’s? What do we know about Tom Bombadil? He lies. A question: what is the most dangerous place in Middle Earth? First place goes to the Mines of Moria, home of the Balrog, but what is the second most dangerous place? Tom Bombadil’s country. By comparison, Mordor is a safe and well-run land, where two lightly-armed hobbits can wander for days without meeting anything more dangerous than themselves. Yet the Old Forest and the Barrow Downs, all part of Tom’s country, are filled with perils that would tax anyone in the Fellowship except perhaps Gandalf. Now, it is canonical in Tolkein that powerful magical beings imprint their nature on their homes. Lorien under Galadriel is a place of peace and light. Moria, after the Balrog awoke, was a place of terror to which lesser evil creatures were drawn. Likewise, when Sauron lived in Mirkwood, it became blighted with evil and a home to monsters. And then, there’s Tom Bombadil’s Country. The hobbits can sense the hatred within all the trees in the Old Forest. Every tree in that place is a malevolent huorn, hating humankind. Every single tree. And the barrows of the ancient kings that lie nearby are defiled and inhabited by Barrow-Wights. Bombadil has the power to control or banish all these creatures, but he does not do so. Instead, he provides a refuge for them against men and other powers. Evil things – and only evil things – flourish in his domain. “Tom Bombadil is the master” Goldberry says. And his subjects are black huorns and barrow wights. What do we know about Tom Bombadil? He is not the benevolent figure that he pretends to be. Tom appears to the Ringbearer in a friendly, happy guise, to question and test him and to give him and his companions swords that can kill the servants of another evil power. But his motives are his own. Consider: it is said more than once that the willows are the most powerful and evil trees in the Forest. Yet, the rhyme that Bombadil teaches the hobbits to use in conjuring up Bombadil himself includes the line, “By the reed and willow.” The willows are a part of Bombadil’s power and a means of calling on him. They draw their strength from the cursed river Withywindle, the centre of all the evil in the Forest. And the springs of the Withywindle are right next to Tom Bombadil’s house. And then there is Goldberry, “the river-daughter”. She is presented as Bombadil’s wife, an improbably beautiful and regal being who charms and beguiles the hobbits. It is implied that she is a water spirit, and she sits combing her long, blonde hair after the manner of a mermaid. (And it is worth remembering that mermaids were originally seen as monsters, beautiful above the water, slimy and hideous below, luring sailors to drown and be eaten.) But I suggest the name means that in her true state, Goldberry is nourished by the River – that is, by the proverbially evil Withywindle. In folklore and legend (as Tolkien would know well) there are many tales of creatures that can take on human form but whose human shape always contains a clue to their true nature. So what might Goldberry be? She is tall and slender - specifically she is “slender as a willow wand”. She wears a green dress, sits amidst bowls of river water and is surrounded by the curtain of her golden hair. I suggest that she is a Willow tree conjured into human form, a malevolent huorn like the Old Man Willow from whom the hobbits have just escaped. If she is not indeed the same tree. So, if this is true, then why does Bombadil save and help the ringbearer and his companions? Because they can bring about the downfall of Sauron, the current Dark Lord of Middle Earth. When Sauron falls, the other rings will fail and the wizards and elves will leave Middle Earth and the only great power that is left will be Bombadil. There is a boundary around Bombadil’s country that he cannot or will not pass, something that confines him to a narrow space. And in return, no wizard or elf comes into his country to see who rules it, or to disturb the evil creatures that gather under his protection. When the hobbits return to the Shire after their journey to Mordor, Gandalf leaves them close to Bree and goes towards Bombadil’s country to have words with him. We do not know what they say. But Gandalf was sent to Middle Earth to contend against Sauron and now he must depart. He has been given no mission to confront Bombadil and he must soon leave Middle Earth to powerless men and hobbits, while Bombadil remains, waiting to fulfill his purpose. Do I think that Tolkien planned things in this way? Not at all, but I find it an interesting speculation. To speculate further and more wildly: The spell that binds Bombadil to his narrow and cursed country was put in place centuries ago by the Valar to protect men and elves. It may last a few decades more, perhaps a few generations of hobbit lives. But when the last elf has gone from the havens and the last spells of rings and wizards unravel, then it will be gone. And Iarwain Ben-Adar, Oldest and Fatherless, who was ruler of the darkness in Middle Earth before Sauron was, before Morgoth set foot there, before the first rising of the sun, will come into his inheritance again. And one dark night the old trees will march westward into the Shire to feed their ancient hatred. And Bombadil will dance down amongst them, clad in his true shape at last, singing his incomprehensible rhymes as the trees mutter their curses and the black and terrible Barrow-Wights dance and gibber around him. And he will be smiling.

source: https://km-515.livejournal.com/1042.html

#J.R.R. Tolkien #Tom Bombadil #oldest and fatherless

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lordnelson100 · 6 years

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Untended [Silmarillion fic]

I had been writing LOTR mostly recently and got a sudden Silmarillion mood! LOTR mood: gentle silver lamplight in the Woodland Realm. Silm mood: apocalypse.

Prompt: What if the Noldor did as the Valar asked?

The Valar sat now behind their mountains at peace; and having given light to Middle-earth they left it for long untended, and the lordship of Morgoth was uncontested save by the valour of the Noldor.

“Of Men,” Quenta Silmarillion

The Noldor never left Aman.

They never even marched as far as Alqualondë. They heard the words of Eönwë, herald of Manwë, who perched with his eagle wings upon a cliffside to chide them for their first rebellious steps: and hearing, they turned again.

Respect, gratitude, and submission rose up in their hearts and they made their quiet way back to Tirion. To be sure, Fëanor fled away into the wilderness, and was never seen again. A tragedy! Many said the death of his father had undone his mind.

But Fëanor’s brothers and Fëanor’s sons were persuaded to pause and ponder: wisdom and caution won the day, and they returned back with the others.

Now that Melkor was fled with his prizes, indeed, the Valar took thought as to the better protection of Aman. They fortified their land anew, and they raised up the mountains of the Pelori to sheer and dreadful heights, and strewed the sea with shadows and enchantments. And so the Blessed Realm was shut against all who lived outside it.

In Middle-earth, enraptured with the glory of the ravished Silmarils and rejoicing in the unavenged blood of slain Finwë, Morgoth returned to his terrible fortess in victory. He made himself a mighty crown of iron, and fixed in it the Silmarils; he named himself “The King of the World,” and there was no one to gainsay him

But he did not sit still.

Soon his forces poured forth. Alone, unaided, Círdan and his people and all their ships were surrounded and pulled down. All along the wide salt strands, the sea birds sought for far-seeing Círdan and the Falathrim. The gulls cried, but the Sea Elves of Middle-earth were no more. The waves themselves mourned as they roared and whispered over the sands.

Denethor and his Green Elves, the Laiquendi beloved of the forest, who roamed free without wall or keep to protect them, were devoured by Morgoth’s wargs who now multiplied in numbers unhindered. The vast forests of Ossiriand reached their fingers towards the sky in mourning: the seven rivers sang in lonliness as they ran.

Doriath stood for a little while, an island of strength protected by Melian’s magic and Thingol’s stewardship. But Balrogs in unthinkable numbers came against them, and burnt all the wide earth around them and poisoned all the rivers. Then Morgoth seeded the clouds themselves with a bitter rain of acid and the forests shrivelled and blackened, even behind Melian’s Girdle.

Holding hands with her stately parents, their beautiful daughter Luthien raised her peerless voice, bringing hope to the people of Menegroth. The Sindar in all their courage and grace lifted their eyes to the sky, and sang to the Star-Kindler. Somewhere beyond the smoke drifting over Thingol’s realm, they knew that stars still shone.

But at last Morgoth opened a vast chasm in the earth at their gates, full of searing liquid fire boiling up from the heart of the world. Doriath tilted and sunk and crumbled: it fell.

Then only a few of Eru’s Firstborn remained in Middle-earth: scattered, traumatized, hiding among the shadows. Uncounted numbers of living Elves were now thralls in Angband; vast armies of the houseless dead became spirit-slaves to Morgoth, their own selves and memories lost in pain and darkness and subsumed in his crushing will.

In the mountains of Middle-earth, the Khazâd had begun to create many works of wondrous craft and delving, in underground cities lit by great lanterns and ringing with the sound of hammers.

But now when they came to the surface, each year they found the earth more and more desolate. Little food could be found in ruined, ashen field and forest. The Elves were vanished, with whom they had in early days built tentative relations. There was no one with whom to trade; no one either to learn from, or to teach what they themselves discovered. The roads between one Dwarven people and another were soon too dangerous to travel and each of their lands became isolated from the others.

Soon they began to weaken. Their once-ambitious delvings became mere dark caves and tunnels. Their numbers dwindled. At last they began to starve. The forge was left darkened; the hammer laid aside, as strength fled from once-strong arms and clever minds clouded.

There came a day when all of the children of Aulë were gone, all the bright promise of their civilization destroyed before it could flower.

Unhindered by any foes, slowed by no siege, fearing no attacks, Morgoth had time to muse and meditate, to invent and make play with all his dark powers of invention.

Trolls he had time to modify and reshape, until they had not only great strength, but also cunning: and he sent them into the forests with the mission to hunt down the Shepherds of the Trees, Yavannah’s rare and gentle children.

Fell beasts he raised, generation upon generation, and dragons whom never knew the fear of heroes’ swords. These he pitted against the great eagles who lingered in the high places of Middle-earth. And soon there were none.

Monsters he sent East, first to Eriador, then over the Misty Mountains to Rhovanion, and even to the far and legendary Orocarni and down to burning Harad, so that no new races could ever flee or wander there. There never came to be a little mortal fisher people, living in peace in the Vales of the Anduin.

So it was that the Aftercomers, the Race of Man, awoke alone in a dead and empty world. Without teachers; without allies; without messengers of hope.

Meanwhile in Aman, the centuries turned.

The Trees lay bare and dead. But the Valar made in their place the Sun and the Moon, so that the lands had light and warmth again. Just as the Trees had replaced the Lamps that Morgoth broke, the Sun and Moon replaced the Trees.

The Valar had the power to make new things when Morgoth broke the old. Therefore they thought: why rage and suffer in pursuit and battle with him? Here in the Valars’ safe land, a new wonder could always be created!

To think upon their brother’s deeds in Middle-earth: how sad, how ugly. And so —-they did not do so.

Among their Elven guests, festivals were held in Valmar and Tirion and Alqualondë on every occasion; feasting and amusements never ceased.

Many Eldar simply sat at the feet of the Valar, in meditation and repose. Though Fëanor was gone, others who loved arts and invention became in their turn great artisans and created wonders upon wonders. Scholars debated infinitely fine distinctions of truth, without pressure from outward threats and fleeting time. There were goodly woods and gardens in abundance, where no danger lurked, where lions were tame and no spider crept, and all the paths were straight.

Ever the music played, and the people danced in innocence.

No one had a sword.

One day, as the Teleri raced in the harbor in their swan ships, their lookouts began to call out to one another. A strange shape seemed to be forming on the blue horizon.

All at once, a vast huge shape reared up: it was the form of a King, high almost as the clouds, crowned with sea-foam and accompanied by a thousand circling white birds and leaping dolphins. He carried in his enormous fist a mighty spear and he seemed to raise it against an unseen foe.

The Sea Elves of the West cried out in wonder and pointed. “Ulmo! Ulmo! See the great Power of the Sea!” they cried. Then, as they looked, the mighty regal form shifted, warped, and seemed to stagger: with a terrible unearthly cry, his body suddenly broke apart, as if the matter of the sea itself was rent into a million parts. The watching Elves on their ships screamed and wept.

Not for long. For in the wake of cataclysm rose an enormous wave, which burst over the pearl strands of Alqualondë and carried all away.

Rumor of the terrible destruction had already spread through Valinor, and already all the other Elves had rushed to the high places of the land to look forth. Others rang bells and shouted alarms. Many prayed, of course, and rushed to the holy places in which they were wont to meet with the Valar: the Circle of Doom where justice was declared, the healing gardens of Lorien, the forges of Aulë , the forests where Oromë hunted. But the Valarin were not in their usual haunts.

Instead, they, too, were to be seen on the high hills and on the walls. Standing, silent, the Valar looked Eastward.

In that direction, a great black cloud was billowing, shot through with lightning. The ocean, having drowned Alqualondë , had settled into a strangely flat and desolate waste of darkened water.

And all at once they saw them coming.

Out from the waves rose the heads, then the shoulders, of a vast legion. From the water they came dripping, as if they had marched across the deep unseen floor of the ocean itself,

The shapes of Men and Elves the sodden army had—-but dead, all dead, their eye sockets gaping, their flesh ruined, their bony hands reaching without warmth.

Over the horizon came black ships, manned by houseless spirits, whose half-seen wraiths flickered at the tillers and on the yards.

Balrogs the size of towers waded between them, cracking their whips of flame.

The sky was filled with dragons, whose length and size were swollen beyond what an incarnate mind could accept. They blotted out the stars.

In the midst of all came wading Morgoth. He was as a mountain crowned with flames; and he laughed.

“You left me the world to tend, my brothers and sisters!” he said. “I thank you for it. Taste now the fruits of it!”

#silmarillion #isolationism #happy holidays have an apocalypse #Fic

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vardasvapors · 6 years

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east of the sun and west of the moon, any character/pairing

Kind of slow fic heavy on the rich descriptions – Bilbo and Frodo, some time a fair bit after they first arrive in Tol Eressëa, when Bilbo thinks he’s going to die soon. They decide to go to mainland Valinor and head to the gardens of Lorien. The descriptions of the people and landscape of eressea and valinor are focused solely on the sensory and emotional aspects, no intellectual analysis, and are weird-but-not exciting, vivid, a walk through an indescribably fascinating fairyland treated with the same sort of ambling hominess as the early chapters of the quest in FotR. They reach Lorien at night and have a picnic. They talk about the most oddball, inconsequential, irrelevant little memories of the past they have, discuss the way those memories have changed since coming to Aman. They nap and dream at early dawn, of scraps of tales that fall away like sea spray. They see the edge of the old flat world as it once used to be, they see visions of sailors blown into the paths all about the straight road, where sea and sky are one.

#vinyatari #vaporous answers #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins

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hhimring · 7 years

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WIP excerpt

I was tagged by @grundyscribbling.

Characters: OFC (Sindarin healer), Maedhros

(Spoiler warning, I suppose? It’s a WIP, after all, and not written in order, either.)

Also, please consider yourself tagged if you see this and have an excerpt you might like to post.

In Tol Eressea, in the fair region of Alalminore, the Sindarin healer sat beneath the elms, on the bank of a brook, cooling her feet in its clear waters. She had been dreaming a little, of ages past, so that when she looked up and saw him, for a moment she thought she had conjured him up, a figment of her memory.

But she had never seen him like this. Yet he was certainly the same; unmarred now in body, he still held himself with that same heart-rending, hard-fought grace.

She had known so little of him when they first met. Maybe in some ways she had seen him more clearly, because of that. Now her eyes seemed to blur, the more she attempted to focus on his face.

He bowed and she realized that he was unsure of his welcome, unwilling to approach until she gave a clearer sign.

'Well, nephew,' she said, as lightly as she could, 'I have not seen you in a while.'

'It took me some time,' he said, agreeing. 'It was not a short road.'

He advanced, then, and knelt down across from her, on the other bank of the brook.

'Auntie,' he said, ' your wayward nephew has come to pay his respects--and to ask for your songs, if you are still willing to offer them.'

She blinked in surprise. She was no longer a famous healer, not here in the West, where so many of renown and learning had flocked over the ages. He could have gone to Este in Lorien, she supposed. But he had come to her here, to the backwoods of Tol Eressea, away from princes and cities, seeking her out to kneel courteously before her in the grass, heedless of the skirt hitched to her knees and her bare feet.

She had assumed too lightly once that he could trust her enough to allow her to mess with his head and had learned swiftly how completely he had unlearned trust. It was partly an apology, she saw, as much as a request, but whether he was asking for forgiveness or healing, it both came to one in her mind. He was asking for aid.

'If you want my songs,' she said, ' you shall have them.'

#wip #meme #maedhros #tol eressea #silmarillion

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garden-ghoul · 7 years

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return of the blog, part 8

“mmmmmmm”

THE LAND OF SHADOW

Sam and Frodo are trying not to look suspicious by fleeing the scene of the crime. They jump off a bridge and into some thorn bushes. Sam is sleepy; Frodo is exhausted from running around in a mail shirt. All they want is daylight and water. Better than any jewels, Sam imagines telling Galadriel. Ah, but it’s a long way to Lorien.

At some point Sam says “Ah, there’s a black rider above us,” and they both sit really still for half an hour. I’m kind of like... proud of their skills... their ultraspecific survival skills, like ‘discerning which kinds of fear are normal for Mordor and which kinds mean there is a Nazgul flying overhead.’ ‘Orc psychology.’ Stuff like that. I really love that thing of skills that help you survive exactly one very specific situation and once you get out of it they are useless or actively detrimental. I like reading about relateable trauma content. Another very specific skill they have acquired is being able to tell what emotion a Nazgul’s scream conveys. In this case, because the Witch King has just been killed over in Gondor, the emotion is “dismay.” Well done Eowyn and Merry!

On the way north they come across a little stream, and Sam tries to drink it first so only one of them will get poisoned if the water is bad. But Frodo wants them to be blessed or cursed together, so they drink at the same time.... aw.... And fall asleep under a bramble bush. Also I’m really interested in how Sam in his narration keeps referring to places in Mordor by name, like the ridge just east of the Ephel Duath, the Morgai. Did their maps... include a map of Mordor? Who would have possibly made such a thing? Did elves, maybe green elves, ever live here, before Numenor fell and Sauron set up shop here? ARE SOME OF THEM STILL ALIVE AS ORCS? I actually don’t have any ideas on whether orcs are individual corrupted elves or like, corrupted genetically. I really dig the idea though that some of the original inhabitants are still here.

Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

Varda enchants Sam Gamgee so he can get a good night’s sleep for once in this awful place.txt. The very next line after this is “Varda has neglected to enchant Frodo, and therefore he did NOT get a good night’s sleep.txt.” They climb up onto the ridge of the Morgai and look out over Gorgoroth (another name that, like, how do they know it?). Orodruin is still forty miles away. For a human in good health that’s probably 3ish days, but our friends are very small and decidedly not in good health, so. Also I have a question, are the Ered Lithui named in a different language than the Ephel Duath? Or are there two words for “mountains” and there’s some nuance I’m missing? YES I could look this up on the wiki.... oh all right, I will. They’re both Sindarin--Ered is the traditional name for mountain ranges, it’s Ephel that’s different. It means outer fence, and this range was presumably named (or renamed) after Sauron set up shop there, because everyone was hoping the Shadow Fence would keep him fenced in. OH here’s some good stuff on how Mordor actually operates:

Neither he nor Frodo knew anything of the great slave-worked fields away south in this wide realm, beyond the fumes of the Mountain by the dark sad waters of Lake Núrnen; nor of the great roads that ran away east and south to tributary lands, from which the soldiers of the Tower brought long wagon-trains of goods and booty and fresh slaves. Here in the northward regions were the mines and forges, and the musterings of long-planned war...

The dark sad waters of Lake Nurnen! Fields of actual crops! Exciting stuff! Sam is being very practical and discouraging about their chances of crossing the open plain; Frodo just keeps stubbornly repeating “guess we’ll have to try and hope! stop talking Sam I’m busy HOPING. SHHHH COULD BE WORSE.” They pass a tiny village, and then some orcs who are looking for them. They’re tall elf-warriors! No, they’re little dwarves. No, they’re an entire pack of rebel uruk-hai! We are SICK of tracking these guys. WHATEVER. Though, can the scent-trackers really not tell the difference between a single elf warrior and a band of orcs?

Sam and Frodo discuss how they’re gone out of their way--it will take at least another week to reach Orodruin, and now they’re nearly out of food. Oh, I’m so worried for them. OH. And Frodo says that “in Rivendell before I set out I was shown a map of Mordor that was made before the Enemy came back here; but I only remember it vaguely.” WHO MADE THE MAP! WHO MADE THE MAP!

...Ahem. They’re planning on taking the road down from Morannon to Barad Dur, it looks like. Might as well go along the road as anywhere else!! Also Gollum is back. Hell. Because the road is so narrow, and on a cliff, they end up being incorporated into a line of marching orcs. It’s awful running with orcs--not a pace designed for hobbits--but they manage to escape eventually.

With a last despairing effort Frodo raised himself on his hands, and struggled on for maybe twenty yards. Then he pitched down into a shallow pit that opened unexpectedly before them, and there he lay like a dead thing.

me coming home from classes. but now finally we’re getting to

MOUNT DOOM

...our heroes are taking a horribly circuitous path toward Orodruin, but I supposed there’s no help for it. Sam finally accepts that he’s going to die on that mountain. But there’s no help for that either, he guesses! I like the descriptions of the lembas that is keeping them going: it doesn’t satisfy the appetite, and only feeds the will. It seems like the enchantment peculiar to lembas was designed for field rations in the war with Morgoth. ALSO of interest to me is the fact that it seems to have been invented by Melian (iirc...), whose daughter was a pioneer in the field of materials magic. Alls I’m saying is, Melian figured out how to imbue food with enchantments, Luthien figured out how to use food to imbue other objects with enchantments, they are both wonderful witches. Just another point where their story connects to Luthien’s--I’m kinda thinking of Melian as the grandmother of Frodo and Sam’s story. Waybread like grandmother used to make.

Our heroes are too tired for “carrying things,” so they throw away almost everything they own. Honestly, you should have done this so much sooner. Sam, my dear, did you really think you would need those pots? Maybe for something concrete from home. It would have been a comfort if you could keep them. Ah, I’m really digging the emphasis (relative to the movie) on how difficult it is to get through Mordor. On the last day before they begin to climb the mountain, Sam is too dehydrated even to cry. And the Ring is so heavy that Frodo can no longer walk. So Sam carries him. Halfway up the mountain he carries Frodo, and then together they crawl up to the road that goes to Sauron’s smithy. Gollum jumps down on them as they walk, but after he’s fended off he grovels, and Sam can’t bring himself to kill him. You poor fool!

He himself, though only for a little while, had borne the Ring, and now dimly he guessed the agony of Gollum’s shrivelled mind and body, enslaved to that Ring, unable to find peace or relief ever in life again. But Sam had no words to express what he felt.

‘Oh, curse you, you stinking thing!’ he said. ‘Go away!’

I love this passage. The feeling of having some kind of deeply held and important emotion, but all you can say is “Ugh! Go away!”

When Sam catches up with Frodo in the smithy, Frodo is standing on the edge of the chasm, like stone. He doesn’t have the will to finish the job he came here to do. Instead he claims the Ring for his own, and vanishes. Gollum springs. Sauron suddenly sees. The Nazgul, as one, sprint through the sky toward Orodruin.

You know how this bit goes: Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger and is so delighted with himself that he falls over the edge. Gruesome as it is, I like the image of him bursting into flame and burning away before he ever hits the magma: only the Ring is left, falling in a cloud of ash that used to be its thrall. And then there’s this image, which is so wonderful I just have to reproduce it whole:

A brief vision he had of swirling cloud, and in the midst of it towers and battlements, tall as hills, founded upon a mighty mountain-throne above immeasurable pits; great courts and dungeons, eyeless prisons sheer as cliffs, and gaping gates of steel and adamant: and then all passed. Towers fell and mountains slid; walls crumbled and melted, crashing down; vast spires of smoke and spouting steams went billowing up, up, until they toppled like an overwhelming wave, and its wild crest curled and came foaming down upon the land. And then at last over the miles between there came a rumble, rising to a deafening crash and roar; the earth shook, the plain heaved and cracked, and Orodruin reeled. Fire belched from its riven summit. The skies burst into thunder seared with lightning. Down like lashing whips fell a torrent of black rain. And into the heart of the storm, with a cry that pierced all other sounds, tearing the clouds asunder, the Nazgûl came, shooting like flaming bolts, as caught in the fiery ruin of hill and sky they crackled, withered, and went out.

The first three times I read this, I thought Sam was having a vision of the fall of Numenor. Gorgeous, gorgeous, though. Tolkien does such good work with cataclysms.

And then they’re on the side of the mountain together, and Frodo is relieved of his burden. He’s just plain old Frodo again. Here at the end of all things.

ooorgh.

#blog of the rings

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

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Clear As Silver Drops

It’s my birthday and I post what I want to! *sing this as Necessary Evil by Motionless in White*

To be totally honest, this is inspired by @my-darling-haldir who was asking for Haldir fic recs for her bday and I said myself why not? Why not indulge in your love for elves and mixed ocs? So here we are, with something in which Legolas isn’t with the Fellowship and in his place we have Elva, the only woman in a group otherwise made up of men only. Enjoy!

Words: 3132

"I'm afraid we can't stay here any longer," Aragorn said, turning his gaze to the mountains, raising his sword as if he wanted to curse Gandalf for his recklessness.

“What hope do we have without him, now?” asked Frodo under his breath, talking mainly to himself.

“We’ll have to do without hope,” replied Elva, talking to the whole Fellowship. “It may be that one day at least he’ll be avenged, but for now, let’s have courage and stop mourning: we have a long way to go and a lot of things to do.”

At her words they all stood up to look around, making her weigh for the umpteenth time what her role really was in their mission. She should’ve asked Gandalf when she still had time, but now he had taken that secret to the grave and she could do nothing but find it herself. A skilled archer and an excellent diplomat, Elva felt more like she was there to act as a glue between cultures, and thus prevent those men, all with different histories and upbringing, to go one to the North, dominated by three sparkling white peaks, Celebdil, Fanuidhol and Caradhras, one to the East, where the forward-projected arms of the mountains steepened abruptly, with distant lands extending beyond, and one to the South, where the Misty Mountains stretched endlessly.

Less than a mile away, slightly lower, as they were located at a high point on the eastern flank of the valley, they saw a lake: it was long and oval, looking like the tip of a spear stuck deep in the basin to the north, with the southern waters out of the shadows, bathed in sunlight but still dark, the deep blue of a clear night sky seen from a lighted room. The surface was calm, and all around the bare banks were covered in soft grass. The Fellowship walked the uneven and bumpy road that descended from the Gates of Moria, just a winding path among heather and twigs, sprouted between the broken stones; it still could be seen that it once meandered from the Dwarf Kingdom’s lowlands, but the broad paved street was now reduced to a ghost of itself, just like Durin’s stone.

“I can’t go on without deviating for a moment to see the wonder of the valley!” exclaimed Gimli.

“Be quick, then!” said Aragorn, checking the gates behind them. “The sun sets early, and even if the Orcs won’t come out, perhaps, sooner than dusk, we must already be very far away at sunset; it’s almost new moon, so the night will be dark.”

Elva almost cursed under her breath: if the lightless night was approaching, even her monthly blood was coming. Of all the advantages of being a half-elf, unfortunately she hadn't inherited the one of not suffering like mortal women.

“Come with me, Elva!” cried the dwarf, distracting her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you to go away without first seeing Kheled-zaram.”

For some strange reason, despite her elven half, the dwarf liked her company, and quite a lot too. Together they descended the long green slope swiftly, followed slowly by the hobbits. A brief glance into the dark waters, and back again to the road, now turning south, going down quite steep from two offshoots that embraced the basin. A little lower than the lake, they encountered a deep well of crystal clear water, from which a steam rose, flowing right after down a rocky groove.

“Thirsty as you may be, don’t drink this water,” Gimli warned. “It’s cold as ice.”

“Over there, are the woods of Lothlorien,” said Elva, pointing at a golden haze in the flat lands. “It’s the most beautiful among all the homes of my people. There are no trees like those of that land: in autumn, their leaves don’t fall but turn to gold, replaced only in spring by the new buds covering the branches with yellow flowers. Then, the soil is gold as the ceiling and the smooth and grey bark of the trees make them look like silver columns, as our songs in Mirkwood still tell. My heart would be so happy if I were among the branches of that wood and the spring smiled!”

“My heart will be happy even if it’s winter,” Aragorn said. “But many miles separate us, let’s hurry!”

For a time, Frodo and Sam managed to keep up, but the warriors advanced swiftly and soon they were left behind. When Elva noticed, she immediately told Aragorn, who, seeing them so far away, ran back on his own steps, calling Boromir to follow him. He apologized, full of disquiet.

“So many things happened today, and we’re such in a hurry that I forgot you were injured. You should’ve said something, because in silence nothing has been done to alleviate your pain. A little further on there’s a place where we can rest for a moment. Come, Boromir, let’s carry them!”

They soon encountered another stream flowing down the western slopes, confusing its gurgling waters with the swirling ones of the Silverlode, diving together from an overhand of green coloured stone and foaming down in a hollow surrounded by fir trees, low and curved, with steeps sides covered with rapeseed and blueberry bushes. They stopped at the bottom, where was a flat area crossed by the bed of shiny pebbles in which the creek flowed noisy. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they had travelled just a few miles from the Gates. The sun was already turning to west, painting a grave expression on Aragorn’s face as he cared for Frodo and Sam’s injuries.

“Lucky you” he exclaimed, to lighten up the gardener’s mood. “Many have received a worse reward for killing their first Orc. The cut isn’t poisoned, as is unfortunately the case for most wounds inflicted by their blades, so it’ll heal well.”

He then opened his saddlebag and took out some withered athelas. While fresh were more effective, the leaves would still do their work in cleaning the wound. When Frodo’s turn came, he was quite reluctant, saying he was fine and just needed some food and rest, but Aragorn persisted, and took off his old tunic and worn shirt, giving an exclamation of astonishment, which soon turned into laughter: the hobbit wore a silver coat that sparkled before their eyes like light on a choppy sea, the gems bright like stars and the tinkling of the rings producing the same sound as the first raindrops falling into a pond. If word got out that a hobbit had such a wonder, all the hunters of Middle Earth would’ve galloped towards the Shire, but all their arrows would’ve been vain before a mithril armour. Still, there was a dark blackened bruise on Frodo’s right side and one of the rings had passed through his soft leather jacket, penetrating into the flesh. While the others prepared the meal, Aragorn made more athelas water, filling the basin with its acrid fragrance. After the late lunch, the Fellowship put out the fire, erasing all traces of it, and climbed out the hollow, resuming the road. They hadn’t come far when the sun disappeared behind the western heights and great shadows crept along the sides of the mountains. Twilight veiled their feet, and a light mist glided in the depression, while far to the east, the evening lit up with its pale glow lands, plains and distant forests. Sam and Frodo managed to walk briskly and Aragorn led the Fellowship for another three hours with a single, shot break, after which the late nigh imposed her dark reign. There were several stars, but the moon waning would appear much later.

“Lothlorien!” Elva cried. “We have reached the edge of the Golden Wood!”

The trees stood imposing, arching over the road and the river that swept suddenly under their leafy branches, trunks gray in the pale starlight and leaves quivered with a touch of fallow yellow.

“We’re still too little far from the Gates, but we can’t go further. Let’s hope that the Elves virtue will protect us from the danger pursuing,” said Aragorn.

“Assuming the Elves still live here, in this darkening world,” Gimli said, joining them.

“It’s been a long time since some of my folks came back to see the land we abandoned centuries ago,” replied Elva, “but we know that Lorien is still not deserted and a secret force repels evil far from this district. Nevertheless, its inhabitants rarely show up, and perhaps now they live deep in the woods and far from the northern borders.”

Aragorn confirmed with a sigh, as if some memory in him had been awakened. “We must suffice to ourselves, for tonight. We’ll still walk a short distance, until the trees are thick around us, then we’ll leave the path to look for a place to rest.”

“There’s no other way?” asked Boromir, irresolute.

“What better way would you want?” asked Aragorn.

“A simple path, albeit flanked by a hedge of swords,” Boromir replied. “Our Fellowship has been conducted in strange ways, and all of them so far with an inauspicious outcome. Against my will we passed under the shadows of Moria, towards our perdition, and now we have to go into the Golden Woods, even if we have heard of that perilous district in Gondor, where it’s said that few of those who set foot there come out, and of these, non has been released unharmed.”

“Don’t say unharmed, but unchanged, and then your words will be truthful,” Aragon retorted. “Wisdom has certainly diminished in the city of those who were once wise if now they speak ill of Lothlorien. You may not believe me, but there’s no other way for us, unless you want to go back to the Gates or climb the mountains or swim alone along the Great River.”

“Then guide us!” agreed Boromir. “But it’s dangerous.” “Very,” Aragorn confirmed. “Beautiful and dangerous, but only the evil has to fear here.”

They walked a little over a mile into the forest when they encountered a third stream flowing rapidly from the tree-lined slopes, climbing west towards the mountains. They could hear it roar in a cascade hidden by the shadows, before the dark water crossed the path ahead of them, joining the Silverlode in a whirlwind of ponds hidden by tree roots. It was the Nimrodel, the river on which a long time ago the Silvan elves composed many song. She grew up singing them in the North, mindful of the rainbow over the waterfalls and the golden flowers floating on its foam. Everything was dark, now, and the Bridge over it collapsed, but its waters were still able to wash away any sign of fatigue, so she proposed to wade it to find on the other side a place to rest.

“The sound of falling water will perhaps bring us sleep and forgetfulness from sorrows.”

One after another, the men followed her and when they were all on the other bank, they sat down, rested and refreshed. Elva told the stores of Lothlorien, the ones the Mirkwood elves still treasured in their hearts, stories of the sun and stars on meadows along the Great River, from a time before the world turned gray. When finally silence fell, they heard the music of the waterfall that flowed smoothly in the shadows.

“Do you hear Nimrodel’s voice?” she asked. “I’ll sing you the story of a girl who was called like the river next to which she lived a long time ago. It’s a lovely song in Sylvan, but I’ll sing it in Westron for you.”

Then, with a sweet voice so faint it almost disappeared in the rustle of the leaves, she intoned the ballad of the elf with a white mantle edged with gold; she had long hair and white skin, the free girl with a voice clear like silver drops. It was evident that some of her companions thought this creature lost in the dewy mountains could’ve been her, so she sang about her lover, an elven king of trees and clearings, went away on a ship swept by the north wind.

From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing. The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore.

When Elva's voice trembled, the song ended. She said she couldn't continue because she didn't remember how it went on, but it was a lie: long and sad was the story about the doom befallen on Lothlorien when the dwarves roused evil in the mountains. She glances sideways at Gimli, who looked somewhat grateful, and quickly changed subject, proposing to camp on the trees for the night. The Fellowship left the path, entering the shadows of the forest further dense, headed west along the mountains steam and far away from the river, until they found a small group of trees with big trunks.

“I’m at home in roots and branches, but this species is unknown to me; I need to climb to see what their shape and way of growing is,” said Elva.

“Whatever they are,” replied Pippin, “they would really be wonderful if they offer a possible night’s rest to others than birds: I don’t know how to sleep perched on a hanger!”

“Then dig a ditch in the ground, if that’s more to the habits of you race,” Elva retorted, impatiently. “But you have to dig fast and in depth, if you wish to hide from the Orcs.”

Before she could do anything else, however, an authoritative voice spoke from the shadows. In amazement, she crouched frightened against the trunk.

“Stay still,” she whispered to the others. “Don’t move and don’t speak!”

A soft laugh was heard in the foliage, and another clear voice spoke in an elven language. Elva looked up and answered in the same idiom, different from the ones the western elves used.

"Who are they, and what do they say?" asked Merry.

"They're Elves," Sam replied. "Don't you hear their voices?"

"And they say you breathe so hard they could pierce your heart despite the darkness,” Elva hissed, silencing the hobbits. To be honest, there was no reason to be afraid: the elves said they’ve been long aware of their presence but they didn’t hinder the Fellowship in crossing the river since they heard her voice beyond the Nimrodel and recognized she belonged to their Nordic lineage.

“They’re begging me to go up with Frodo. It seems they’ve received news about our journey but they ask the others to be patient for a moment and guard the feet of the tree, waiting for them to decide what to do.”

At those words, a ladder was lowered from the shadows: it was made of a silver-gray sparkling cord and despite its frail appearance, it proved itself strong enough to withstand the weight of several people. Elva went up fast, while Frodo tried to persuade Sam to stay with the others. It would’ve been a wise choice, it was easy to offend her people, but the gardener was immovable and in the end they entered the flet, talan in elvish, through the circular hole open in the centre. The elf holding the ladder, the eldest, invited her to sit with his companions, two younger guards, both fully dressed in silver gray fabric, a valid help to hide among the stumps and then greeted the hobbits in a slow Common Tongue.

“It’s rare for us not to use our mother tongue, since now we live in the heart of the forest and don’t like to deal with other people. Even our own relatives in the North are divided from us, but some still go in foreign lands to gather news and watch over enemies, and therefore they speak different languages like me. My brothers Rumil and Orophin understand little of what you say, but we heard of your coming from Lord Elrond’s messengers when they passed by Lorien on their way home. From many years we no longer knew anything about your race and we didn’t think there were still any hobbit in Middle Earth. You don’t seem bad natured and since you come with an elf of our lineage, it’s with pleasure that we’ll help you, as Elrond asked us to, although is not out habit to lead strangers across our land, but you’ll have to spend the night here. How many are you?”

"Eight: me, four of them,” said Elva, alluding to the hobbits, “and two men, one being Aragorn, an elf-friend of the Westernesse folk.”

“The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lorien, and he has the benevolence of the Lady. So, everything is fine,” said Haldir. “But you have so far only named seven.”

“The eight is a dwarf,” admitted the girl, never lowering her eyes, no trace of shame in her voice. She knew that Haldir must’ve understood by now that not only elven blood ran in her veins, but he didn’t seem to care.

“This is not good: we haven’t dealt with them since the Dark Days and they’re not allowed into our country. I cannot let him pass.”

“He’s of the Lonely Mountain, one of Dain’s trusted people and friend of Lord Elrond, who has personally chosen him to be part of our Fellowship,” she explained. At her words, the three elves exchanged a long, knowing look.

“Is he perhaps your companion, milady?” Haldir asked.

“Would it make any difference on his courage and loyalty?” she asked, heedless of what some strangers might think. If she had cared about the opinion of all the souls she had met in her long life, her heart would’ve already burst with pain.

"Very well," said Rumil at last, displeased. Ignoring the fact that the hobbits didn’t understand him, he told her in Sindarin that if she and Aragorn had watched and answered for Gimli, he could’ve passed, but only blindfolded.

“Now, we mustn’t waste any more time,” Haldir resumed. “Your companions have been on the ground too long and soon in the morning you’ll have to continue your march. The hobbits will stay here with us, while you’ll remain in the other talan with the rest of the Fellowship.”

“Call if something is wrong!” he added in the end, as a farewell. Elva was halfway down the ladder when she heard one of his brothers mutter something about such a beautiful voice wasted in a terribly vulgar way, but she couldn’t understand his reply.

#lotr #haldir #aragorn #gimli #boromir #gandalf #rumil #orophin #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #pippin took #haldir x oc #the fellowship of the ring

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allcheatscodes · 7 years

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lord of the rings the battle for middle earth ii xbox 360

http://allcheatscodes.com/lord-of-the-rings-the-battle-for-middle-earth-ii-xbox-360/

lord of the rings the battle for middle earth ii xbox 360

Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-Earth II cheats & more for Xbox 360 (X360)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-Earth II cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for Xbox 360 (X360). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

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Also Known As: Lord of the Rings Battle for Middle-Earth II

Genre: Action, Adventure

Developer: Electronic Arts

Publisher: Electronic Arts

ESRB Rating: Pending

Release Date: June 20, 2006

Hints

Special Heroes

In skirmish, evil or good, play on one ring mode and look for gollum. Once you find him, kill him and take the ring to your fortress. When you get it to your fortress you will be able to recruit 1 new hero. If you are the dwarves, elves, or men of Gondor you will be able to buy Galadriel for $10, 000. She does massive damage to infantry. If you are goblins, mordor, or isengard, you will unlock Sauron. He too costs $10,000. He does massive damage to structures and infantry. The only problem is that he is very slow.

Sauron

If you play, in a skirmish, as Isengard and find the “one ring” and birng it to your fortress, you can recruit Lord Sauron for $10,000. Even though he is slow, he can destroy most buildings in two hits. Personaly I useualy go and destroy the oppositon with only Sauron, just for fun. It is also fun to watch the soldiers go flying after being hit buy Sauron.

Cheats

Currently we have no cheats or codes for Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-Earth II yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Unlockables

Hero Unlocks

Avatan : Win 10 capture and hold games.

Brerthor : complete the whole good campaigne.

Celebrim : Win 10 resource race games

Felek : Win 10 hero vs. hero games

Fhaleen : Win 10 king of the hill games

Hadhood : complete first level of good campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Idrial : complete level eight of good campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Krashnack : complete level one of bad campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Maur : complete level four of the good campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Mektar : complete good campaigne with no heroes dying.

Ohta : Win 10 versus games.

Olog : complete level eight of the bad campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Thrugg : complete level four of the bad campaigne with all bonus objectives.

Tumna : complete the whole bad campaigne.

Urulooke : complete evil campaigne with no heroes dying.

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-Earth II yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

Currently we have no glitches for Lord of the Rings: The Battle for Middle-Earth II yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Guides

Currently no guide available.

Achievements

Achievement List

Assault Dol Guldur (30) – Complete Good Dol Guldur with all bonus objectives.

Captains of the West (25) – Complete Good Campaign.

Capture and Hold (15) – Win 1 Capture and Hold game.

Capture them all!!! (30) – Win 10 Capture and Hold games.

Cleanse the Ettenmoors (10) – Complete Good Ettenmoors with all bonus objectives.

Clear the High Pass (5) – Complete Good High Pass with all bonus objectives.

Commandeer the Old Forest Road (10) – Complete Evil Mirkwood with all bonus objectives.

Cover the Lands in Darkness (25) – Complete Evil Campaign.

Crush Rivendell (30) – Complete Evil Rivendell with all bonus objectives.

Defend Erebor (20) – Complete Good Erebor with all bonus objectives.

Defend Rivendell (5) – Complete Good Rivendell with all bonus objectives.

Demolish the Grey Havens (5) – Complete Evil Grey Havens with all bonus objectives.

Destroy Lothlorien (5) – Complete Evil Lorien with all bonus objectives.

Entrepreneur of Middle-earth (30) – Win 10 Resource Race games.

General (30) – Win 10 Versus games.

Good Practice (5) – Win 1 Single Player Skirmish game.

In need of a lesson (0) – Lose 10 Multiplayer matches in a row.

Istari Power (5) – Purchase first player power.

King of Kings (30) – Win 10 King of the Hill games.

King of the Hill! (15) – Win 1 King of the Hill game.

Middle-earth Financier (15) – Win 1 Resource Race game.

My Heroes are better than yours (30) – Win 10 Hero Vs Hero games.

My Heroes!!!! (15) – Win 1 Hero Vs Hero game.

Pillage Erebor (20) – Complete Evil Erebor with all bonus objectives.

Ravage Fornost (10) – Complete Evil Fornost with all bonus objectives.

Reclaim the Blue Mountains (10) – Complete Good Blue Mountains with all bonus objectives.

Rescue Celduin (15) – Complete Good Celduin with all bonus objectives.

Scour the Shire (10) – Complete Evil Shire with all bonus objectives.

Secure the Grey Havens (10) – Complete Good Grey Havens with all bonus objectives.

Sergeant (15) – Win 1 Versus game.

Servant of the Secret Fire (80) – Complete Good Campaign without a Hero dying.

Servant of the Shadow (80) – Complete Evil Campaign without a Hero dying.

The Dragons of Withered Heath (15) – Complete Evil Withered Heath with all bonus objectives.

The Hobbit and the Troll (50) – Win a game against someone 20 places higher than you.

Try a tutorial (0) – Lose to someone ranked 20 places below you.

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allenmendezsr · 3 years

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“When I bought this book, the most I was hoping for was a temporary respite from panic attacks as and when they occurred. I never would have thought that I’d be well on the road to a complete, all-round recovery!! But here I am, I’m so much better already, and it’s been less than two months since I first opened your book. I’ve been forced to take a real look at my life and at what might be causing me to be so anxious all the time. I’m now a much happier, more relaxed, and spontaneous person. I even went on a date the other night – something I haven’t dared to do for a whole year! You will never know how grateful I am. I hope everyone out there who suffers from panic attacks finds and reads this book!” B. Dollarhyde (Newark, New Jersey)

“Hi Edward, Well your book certainly opened my eyes! I’ve always been pretty cynical about holistic therapies. When I first found your ebook, I’m ashamed to say that my initial reaction was pretty contemptuous – since when have deep-breathing exercises ever REALLY helped anyone overcome panic attacks or anxiety disorders, I thought? Well, I’m glad to say that now I know different. I’ve used your tips on psychotherapy, medications, AND holistic therapy to heal myself of panic attacks, and – although I’m still far from perfect – the improvement I’ve experienced already is incredibly heartening. For the first time in many years, I actually feel hopeful about the future: your book’s a truly valuable resource for anyone suffering from anxiety disorders. Thanks for turning me around on this issue, and proving to me that a closed mind is no way to treat anxiety disorders!” — John Bates (Big Four, West Virginia)

“Hi Edward, before reading your book I was pretty much an emotional and social leper. I lived alone in my little studio flat, had arranged to work from home, had almost no friends, and NEVER left the house. I can see now just how unhealthy that kind of lifestyle is. Believe me, at the time, I wanted to change things too, but I just didn’t know how! Now I do, and I’m no longer as afraid to go out into the world and live my life as I used to be. I still get nervous, but I’m slowly learning not to let that stop me from enjoying my life. The first step was to start working part time in the office again, which might not sound like much to people who don’t know what anxiety disorders are like – but since your book is based on your own real-life experiences, I know you’ll understand just how exciting it is to be moving forwards again. Thank you, thank you, thank you Edward” — Daniele S. (Charlotte, Maine)

“If anyone had told me just six weeks ago that I’d be almost completely cured of my panic disorder by now, I’d probably have slapped them in the face – I don’t take kindly to people joking about such a horrible condition, and there’s no way they could have been telling the truth (or so I thought). But after reading through your book, I’m just amazed at the depth and breadth of knowledge covered, and with so many practical techniques for overcoming the problem! It’s amazing, I can’t believe how much better I am. Thanks so much Edward.” — Susan J (Garden City, Colorado)

“I just wanted to write a heartfelt THANK YOU for your advice on treating panic attacks. Ever since I was a teenager I’ve been suffering on and off from these horrible, heart-palpitating “terror fits” (as I privately called them, not knowing what they actually were!). The only person I ever told was my dad, whose response was pretty much to “just get over it” …. After hearing that, I decided to never tell anyone else about my problem, ever. But since I stumbled across your book, it’s literally changed my life. I now have the confidence to address my problem, am no longer ashamed of it, and have actually got up the nerve to attend my first psychotherapy session! Thank you so much Edward, you’ll never know what an impact your book’s had on my life.” — Dave Newman(Austin, Texas, USA)

“Edward, it’s such a relief to hear somebody advocating the benefits of “alternative” therapies as well as the usual prescription meds and psychotherapy. I don’t like the idea of filling my body up with pills and potions, and the idea of telling a complete stranger about my personal problems didn’t really appeal to me personally either, but it was getting to the point that I no longer knew what to do – social phobia (as I know now it’s called) is no joke, and I really just wanted to be able to live a normal life. I was beginning to wonder whether I shouldn’t rethink my convictions about prescriptions! Then I read what you had to say about holistic therapies, and decided to give it a shot. I now attend reiki sessions every two weeks, have taken up hatha yoga, and practice my breathing techniques religiously whenever I feel my palms start to get sweaty. I can’t believe how much it’s all helped – I love it that you’ve provided me with knowledge about body/mind therapies, as well as traditional cures. Thanks heaps. You’re a star!” — Flo Van der Lorien (Saint Croix Falls, Wisconsin)

“Your book changed my life. I have been a panic attack sufferer for 8 years and thanks to your book it has opened doors to a new found confidence. Now I really think I can beat this! I can’t thank you enough for taking me by the hand and giving me my life back. Thanks.” — Liz Wolff (Prospect, Georgia)

From: Edward Golding Date: January 01, 2021

Dear Friend,

I’m Edward Golding. I’m a former chronic panic attack sufferer, so I know first-hand how disrupting and crippling anxiety attacks can be. I’m here to help you cure your anxiety issues using what may well be the most powerful panic attack cure system that exists.

Firstly, you should know that there is a lot of BAD advice going around on the internet about how to treat anxiety and panic attacks. Many treatments that people suggest are not effective, accurate, nor are they safe. In fact, some websites claim that they can fix your anxiety and cure you of future panic attacks in one step! Let’s face it, if panic attacks were that simple to cure, you wouldn’t still be looking for help!

If you suffer from panic attacks and want your life back… if you’re tired of trying pills, potions, and lotions that merely mask the problem, but don’t cure it, and if you’d like to cure your panic attacks once and for all, as safely, naturally, and as effectively as possible… then please read the rest of this web page – you are missing out on extremely valuable information if you don’t.

I want to share with you my unique, well-researched and proven 4-Step Holistic System, so that you can overcome panic attacks in the safest and most effective way possible, while minimizing the risk of recurring attacks.

But First, I Want You to Consider These Questions…

Do you want to overcome your anxiety fears and get back to the full health and vitality that you used to have?

Do you want to stop the dizzy spells, racing heart, nausea and tingling of an oncoming panic attack?

Do you want to overcome your fears and social phobias and enjoy your friends and social life again?

Do you want to understand and cure unusual compulsions and unwanted thoughts that you can’t explain?

Are you frustrated that many of the anxiety medications offered don’t do the job as effectively as they should?

Do you want to explore your options and alternatives before you resort to drugs in treating your anxiety disorder?

Are you sick of the side-effects of the many pills and potions you are taking? Do you wish there were other things you could do to manage your condition?

Do you miss having the confidence that comes from being anxiety and panic attack-free?

Do you know what alternative lifestyle, homeopathic, and medical options exist for managing and overcoming anxiety attacks?

Do you want to stop getting recurring panic attacks that are destroying your family life, career, and even your future happiness?

Do you want to know more about other types of treatments including acupuncture, EFT, Tai Chi, and Gemstone Therapy?

Do you want to know how key exercise and diet changes can affect the way your body responds to stress?

If you answered “YES” to any of these questions, this book is really going to help you. If you are suffering from any of the symptoms above and have really had enough of feeling this way, you have come to the right place – You really can eliminate all of the above problems and I’m about to let you in on my secret method…

Before You Go On… Sign Up to My FREE “Stop Panic” Newsletter Series!

I believe that we have an obligation to one another to share helpful information that could enable us to live healthier, happier, longer lives. That’s why I created my newsletter series!

I want to share with you some of the information I have gained through my years in researching this subject. I’ve not just gone to panic and anxiety sufferers to find out how they manage their anxiety and panic attacks the natural way; I’ve also gone to the formal medical literature on the subject, scientists, herbalists, homeopaths, and more, in order to get a complete picture of what people are saying about anxiety and panic attacks and what really works.

I designed my newsletter series to help clear up the misconceptions about anxiety and panic attacks and give you the plain and simple truth without wading through the sea of information out there!

So if you are suffering from anxiety or panic attacks, or simply want to know more about this condition that afflicts so many, sign up to my free newsletter series below.

This is a private mailing list and it will never be sold or given away for any reason. Believe me, I hate spam as much as you do!

Before getting on to the remedy, you should consider the following…

How Did People Treat Anxiety and Panic Attacks Before Miracle Pills and 10-Second One-Step Cures?

Every year, over 40 million Americans suffer from anxiety-related disorders, and most are looking for effective ways to manage their fears and live a normal and care-free life…

...But the first thing most of them recognize is that an anxiety disorder is a serious affliction, and that any approach to managing and minimizing panic attacks needs to be both carefully considered and carefully implemented. People that tell you they can cure your panic attacks in just seconds or moments are just as bad as those who tell you that you simply need to pull yourself together. It’s just not that simple.

It’s crazy! You can spend years treating the symptoms at the pop of a pill, pressure on a reflexology point, or a positive affirmation, without actually treating the panic attack and the lifestyle triggers that are causing it!

These revolutionists ONLY TREAT THE SYMPTOMS, not the causes, and the side effects may be creating new problems and making you feel worse, and yet you keep spending the money!

This means that while you may cure the symptoms of your panic attacks for a while, without getting to the root cause it’s just going to keep on coming back again… and again… and again.

And each time you have another attack, it may be getting even worse and harder to live with…

But When I Think About It, It All Makes Sense…

If you knew that a 10-second miracle technique could cure your panic attacks forever, would you be interested? Sure!

But what if you knew that it was ineffective in delivering the promise that it would give you anxiety-free confidence for the rest of your life! Would you feel ripped off?

This is what made me so angry and what sparked me to spend years conducting my own research to find out exactly how people for centuries have been dealing with stress and managing their anxiety. During my research, I found a range of highly effective techniques and methods, which I’ve put together into 4 Step System that I guarantee will give you panic attack-free confidence or your money back. But first you should be aware that…

You Can’t Afford NOT To Hear the Truth!

An anxiety problem left untreated can quickly grow into a life problem of unsustainable proportions.

Imagine living in constant fear of a panic attack, so severe that you can’t continue in your job anymore, can’t maintain relationships or friendships, and your world is getting smaller and smaller…

The very pain and suffering you are trying to escape from is becoming your everyday reality! You are living your worst nightmare!

And all from not managing and treating your anxiety disorder properly and effectively!

**You Need Safe Effective Results NOW**

Using the advice and knowledge passed on by generations of anxiety and panic attack sufferers before me, modern medical research, and studies on the effects of modern lifestyles and stress on our nervous systems, I developed a 4-Step System that has changed the lives of over 2,000 people and can work wonders for you. You can naturally help your body and mind overcome panic attacks on its own, without having to resort to medication … and keep it from coming back!

It’s time to take control of your own health and happiness and learn how to use the management techniques that my 4-Step Holistic System has available for you!

My 4-Step Holistic Panic Attack Management System

Curing your panic attacks and restoring your confidence and vitality is not as easy as it sounds and DEFINITELY not as simple as the so-called experts tell you it will be.

There is much more to it than simply treating the symptoms of panic attacks.

You need to find the triggers that can cause your panic attacks to happen in the first place.

You need to understand how your parasympathetic nervous system reacts to stress situations… and how it keeps you in check naturally.

You need to take control of stress and anxiety by identifying its root causes – its food sources – and eliminate the very sources that are feeding your anxiety.

This is why my holistic 4-Step System of action is much more effective.

It deals with the many crucial holistic lifestyle and emotional factors that will stop panic attacks in their tracks, rather than merely masking the problem (which is what all these miracle cures and one-step techniques do). To effectively cure yourself from panic attacks, you need to explore every factor that is contributing to your anxiety reaction, not just one. And that’s specifically what my 4-Step Holistic System does.

I’ve got the 4 Steps you need to get relief fast and prevent panic attacks from coming back… and that’s not all!

Inside you’ll learn:

Discover exactly how to stop your panic attack as it is happening. Discover my 10-Point Panic Prevention Plan, the fastest and safest way to overcome your current panic attack as it is happening. I show it to you here!

How many anti-panic methods and theories are incredibly misleading! Find out why they are and why you need a more balanced approach to your anxiety management.

Why stress is a key component in anxiety, and how we are living with more stress now than ever. Discover techniques for understanding and channeling your stress and belief system.

You will find out how to get rid of that persistent feeling of general anxiety in the pit of your stomach, even if you don’t think it’s an anxiety attack. You won’t find this information anywhere else!

Learn how to diagnose a panic attack and identify the underlying conditions that can mimic them. Even when it feels like you are sure it’s a panic attack that you are experiencing, find out for sure and deal with it.

My secret “4-Step Holistic System” to

completely eradicate

your panic attack and its triggers from your life… forever!

My 5-Point Anxiety Management Plan to deal with the root causes of anxiety and face a future of supreme confidence and self-assurance.

Discover if you are predisposed to anxiety. There may be a combination of inherited genes and learned behaviors that make you more susceptible to anxiety than others. Find out what these are.

How your diet and lifestyle can contribute to your stress and anxiety. Identify the list of actions/behaviors that anxiety feeds on!

Vitamin supplements that can minimize the stress and anxiety in your body! Identify what these key supplements are and what foods they are present in.

Dietary do’s and don’ts. Find out what immediate changes you can make to your diet to start feeling better immediately. You will be amazed at how fast you start feeling more healthy and confident!

Relaxation techniques that are essential to helping you manage the stress in your life. Try one or two… or try them all! You will be amazed at your body’s ability to process and release stress calmly and smoothly!

Herbal teas and supplements that can induce calmness and relaxation. Harness the power of herbal infusions and generations-old remedies that are proven to assist as we list and describe the qualities and properties of each herbal supplement and tonic. It’s all here!

You’ll learn everything I’ve learnt in my years of researching what it really takes to cure anxiety and prevent panic attacks… many of these things people were doing long before the so called experts sold their “one-step” cures… backed up by solid medical justification.

Find out what is right and wrong with the various treatment options available and what to expect from a psychotherapist. Learn more right here!

What to do if you can’t afford medication. Find out what options are available to you and how you can best manage your anxiety the affordable way.

You’ll also find out a lot more about all the different types of panic disorders, including agoraphobia, specific phobias, generalized anxiety disorder, OCD, and much more. Identify the symptoms and an explanation of what they really are, and what to do next.

Uncover child-specific anxiety disorders. Does your child exhibit behaviors that seem out of character or that you can’t explain? Identify what symptoms you need to look out for, and what characteristics can point towards anxiety issues in your child.

You’ll finally experience the confidence of knowing that panic and anxiety don’t have to embarrass you any longer… no more having to explain to your spouse or friends why you “just don’t feel well”… no more sweaty hands, tight chest, dizzy spells and “gross” days when you just wish you could hide under the covers and close all the doors and escape your crippling fears!

With your life free from crippling anxiety, you’ll have more energy … feel healthier … and look and feel your best! Having a panic disorder takes over your life and diverts important resources to calming and soothing you, resources that you could use to do much more enjoyable things like going for a walk, playing with your children, or simply enjoying life!

You’re about to discover everything that you need to get effective relief from the suffering of panic attacks…

My advice isn’t trying to substitute the advice of a medical professional, and I don’t want it to. In fact, you should always seek diagnosis from a medical professional if you are not sure, but my ebook is here to present to you the alternatives open to you in your management of your anxiety as well as your future happiness.

In fact, this book will empower you to go to your health professional with concrete facts, lifestyle plans, and alternatives that really work, and the ability to make an informed decision that takes into account a range of different treatments and points of view, not just one “miracle” technique or action.

The less you know, the more vulnerable you’ll be to being “bullied” into using a treatment that may not even work. Take charge of your own anxiety and future happiness and get all the necessary secrets, not just one, your way!

Before Continuing, Let Me Ask You This…

Have a think to yourself: what would it be worth to you to have this area of your life dramatically and emphatically improved for the better?

What if you could have consistent confidence and self-assurance, free of the embarrassment and fear of future panic attacks for the rest of your life?

Imagine having the ability to have the feeling of positivity you always wanted, the confidence of being able to do anything that you set your mind to. Imagine having the confidence to live your life in confidence, secure in the knowledge that you will never again be affected by the fear, discomfort, and embarrassment of panic attacks. Imagine waking up each morning and never feeling the constant nausea or racing heartbeat of an oncoming panic attack again! How does that sound?

Personally, I value that above the value of anything. I’m serious.

To be completely satisfied with your life, I believe you need to have the security of self-confidence and peace of mind. And this is every bit as important as other areas of you life such as your career and relationships, maybe even more so. This is something that can affect your entire life.

Besides, if you don’t get it right the result could be your long-term health!

But you don’t have to worry about that or put up with it a moment longer because the Panic & Anxiety Gone ebook isn’t even $200, in fact it’s not even $150.

Not $100.

Not even $80.

You can get your hands on the amazing Panic & Anxiety Gone ebook for a super-low $49.95

What would you rather fix… the racing heartbeats, sweating, and trembling in your current anxiety episode? Or have panic-free confidence and happiness of knowing the attacks won’t happen again for the rest of your life?

And It Is 100% Guaranteed to Work!

Your Panic & Anxiety Gone Course purchase is fully covered by a personal, risk-free, no questions asked 8-week 100% money-back GUARANTEE if you are not satisfied for any reason, or if it doesn’t live up to your expectations.

That’s right! Take up to 56 days to examine and use my 4-Step Holistic System, including my 10-Step Panic Prevention Plan to stop your panic attacks now, plus the 5-Step Anxiety Management Plan to prevent anxiety and restore peacefulness to your life in the long-term, plus the comprehensive list of effective holistic natural remedies and techniques. Apply them to your situation. Once you have used this course to find new ways of treating and managing anxiety and panic attacks in your everyday life, I’m confident that you’ll NEVER want to send it back!

Take action now and download your copy of Pain and Anxiety Gone and gain the confidence and knowledge of how to safely and effectively manage the embarrassment and suffering of panic attacks from your life forever!

You’ll be astonished at the results! And that’s a promise.

What are you waiting for? You have nothing to lose…and a panic-free life to enjoy.

P.S. If you don’t make this decision now, when and how will you finally overcome the barrier of your anxiety and change your life? This one is a no-brainer thanks to our 100% Total Satisfaction, No Questions Asked 8-Week Guarantee. You have no risk, so download now.

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Thanks to this powerful information, thousands of people worldwide have been successful managing their panic and anxiety, and eliminated panic attacks for good!

“Edward, it’s such a relief to hear somebody advocating the benefits of “alternative” therapies as well as the usual prescription meds and psychotherapy. I don’t like the idea of filling my body up with pills and potions, and the idea of telling a complete stranger about my personal problems didn’t really appeal to me personally either, but it was getting to the point that I no longer knew what to do – social phobia (as I know now it’s called) is no joke, and I really just wanted to be able to live a normal life. I was beginning to wonder whether I shouldn’t rethink my convictions about prescriptions! Then I read what you had to say about holistic therapies, and decided to give it a shot. I now attend reiki sessions every two weeks, have taken up hatha yoga, and practice my breathing techniques religiously whenever I feel my palms start to get sweaty. I can’t believe how much it’s all helped – I love it that you’ve provided me with knowledge about body/mind therapies, as well as traditional cures. Thanks heaps. You’re a star!” �� Flo Van der Lorien (Saint Croix Falls, Wisconsin)