#return of the king appendices
The Death of Arwen
'But Arwen went forth from the House, and the light of her eyes was quenched, and it seemed to her people that she had become cold and grey as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Then she said farewell to Eldarion, and to her daughters, and to all whom she had loved; and she went out from the city of Minas Tirith and passed away to the land of Lórien, and dwelt there alone under the fading trees until winter came. Galadriel had passed away and Celeborn also was gone, and the land was silent.
'There at last when the mallorn-leaves were falling, but spring had not yet come, she laid herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth; and there is her green grave, until the world is changed, and all the days of her life are utterly forgotten by men that come after, and elanor and niphredil bloom no more east of the Sea.
'Here ends this tale, as it has come to us from the South; and with the passing of Evenstar no more is said in this book of the days of old.'
(from “The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen”, LotR Appendices)
If like me you always found Arwen dying alone too unbearably sad, you may have imagined her bros Elladan and Elrohir with her at the end, or her grandfather, canon be damned.
Or... maybe this:
fanfic under cut:
Lothlorien, FA 121.
The Wanderer moves like a shadow beneath golden-leaved boughs of mellyrn. His feet have walked the length and breadth of Ennor, but never in the days of Nenya's power did he enter these woods. Only in the last few decades, long after it has lain abandoned by the galadhrim, has he wintered here. The trees of gold awaken memories of Tirion. Each winter he comes, he sees evidence of the fading… the leaves more sparse, the gold less bright… He approaches a great mound at the heart of the woods, with its two circles of trees, white and gold. Even from afar he senses that he is not alone… senses the faint light of a life slowly ebbing away.
She is as a shadow herself, as she lies at the foot of the greatest mallorn at the center of the mound. She is pale as death, and lines of mortality and grief have in the past few months etched themselves upon the face that once was fairest. But still, he knows her. He approaches silently. Kneels near her. He has sung naught but grief and lamentation for millennia. But now, ever so softly, from his lips lilts a tune he heard a maiden sing in the springtime of her life. And her grey eyes slowly open. They are dim, unfocused, and search awhile before they find him.
"You," she whispers in Sindarin, her voice barely audible. "I know you."
He is intimate with such despair and loneliness. Such sorrow. "Daughter, how may I help you?" he asks gently.
"…Will you… sing…?"
He takes her hand as it lies on the still-green grass. It is cold, so cold, thin and frail, the bones like a bird's beneath flesh grown loose. Her fingers tighten ever so slightly on his.
He stays by her side throughout the winter, through sun and rain, and for her he lays aside his songs of woe. From his lips come all the songs of childhood he once sang to a young pair of twins. He hears the clash of swords in the Havens, remembers the nightmares that woke them—and him—in the nights. He remembers the feel of small bodies pressed against his as he awakens to find they have crawled yet again into his bed, fearful of monsters in their own room. How innocent they had been of the true monster that he was, fair of face but black of soul. How touchingly they had gripped his hand for comfort, that had shed the blood of their kindred. As he sings the old, familiar songs he remembers yet other children. His younger brothers as he sang to them. Himself, as his mother sang to him. He would have wept for the loss and doom of all those children, but he has no tears left to shed.
The nights are cold. He takes a cloak from the oiled-leather pack, the parting gift the elves of Imladris had left for him ere they departed, that one of the peredhel twins had contributed to it. The wanderer now lays the new dark-grey cloak over Arwen.
She speaks only once more, as the first buds appear on the mellyrn, and leaves of gold begin to fall. He barely makes out the words.
Her face in death is young and radiant, all lines of grief smoothed away.
He buries her where she lies, her brother's cloak her shroud. He raises a shallow mound of earth over her, and scatters early-blooming niphredil over the grave. He then finds a grey stone, and with his blade he takes his time to chisel letters upon it. As he does so, he remembers his mother's hands on his as she had taught him, his hands almost too small then to hold the tools.
Golden leaves fall in the empty woods as spring comes. They flutter onto the mound and upon the stone he has left to mark the grave.
She was neither Queen nor Evenstar of her people to him, so on the grey stone the wanderer has chiseled, in the ancient classical mode of Tengwar:
(*tolen: “I come”)
(from Ch 35 “Tapestry of Three Worlds” in The Golden and the Black https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289005/chapters/12208913)
378 notes · View notes
how come all writing advice is like "NEVER spend time on worldbuilding people read fantasy for ACTION the audience DOESN'T want to read boring infodumps they want to read people KILLING each other with SWORDS" ok well i hate action scenes and i love appendices where does that leave me
26 notes · View notes
Underrated part of the tower of Cirith Ungol chapter in Return of the King is how Sam and Frodo are like, briefly obsessed with having matching outfits
32 notes · View notes
“Those to whom only the squalid sounds strong”
5 notes · View notes
Oh, you know what SU Future is? It's the part Peter Jackson didn't shoot. After the journey is done, and Frodo gets back to Hobbiton, ready for a rest that will never come.
15 notes · View notes
so um honest question where do you take the pronunciation sounds from? because it's the first time i've heard them pronounced with rolled rs (which is great!) but as a non-english native speaker, your rolled rs sound a lot like double rs and if i were to pronounce any of the names with a rolled r i'd use the... um, other rolled r sound my language has, for the single-r sound, given there's only one r in all those names. if i were to phonetically write down what you're saying, without knowing the name, i'd guess turrin and hurrin (and írrise, etc). but maybe i'm doing it wrong? (i'm just genuinely curious i hope this doesn't sound mean or anything, it wasn't meant to be)
oh THIS is something I actually can answer!
I speak Spanish and you are 100% right that I’m using more of an rr than r when it comes to Quenya and Sindarin. A good place to start with all Elvish pronunciation is the appendices in The Return of the King, but in this case I’m not solely using that. My R is taken largely from David Salo’s work on the LotR films and on the courses on Ardalambion and Ambar Eldaron - I’m as certain as I can be that it’s supposed to sound like that, far more certain there than I am that the /kw/ in Quenya isn’t full-throated. It’s a bit subtler in the films but I’m pretty sure that it’s because most Anglophones really can’t do rr properly and the actors who we saw in the movies were all native English speakers, as far as I can tell.
It’s also a choice I’ve made with the knowledge that I might not be entirely correct, and such is the nature of conlangs where a lot of the stuff I need is either written by other people than Tolkien himself or like. I could see it, but I’d have to travel and get permission, etc.
thank you! you did not sound mean at all and I hope this helps!
16 notes · View notes
A couple months ago I tried to watch the extended cut of The Fellowship of the Ring. And just as I was starting to get into it, not quite an hour in, they get to Bree, and I get slapped in the face with how Jackson doesn’t know what genre he’s doing.
The Lord of the Rings is high fantasy. Not sword and sorcery. The smoke-filled, vaguely sinister inn, with people of questionable intention peering guardedly at everyone who comes in, that Jackson portrays, is not the Prancing Pony. It’s the Silver Eel in Lankhmar, or the nameless wine shop where a young Conan hears about the Tower of the Elephant.
Jackson portrays the fantasy version of a dangerous saloon from a Western, or a hard-boiled gin joint from a film noir. What Tolkien portrays, however, is a neighborhood bar, the fantasy version of, basically, Cheers. The couple of shifty, dangerous characters in Bree, Bill Ferny’s friends, are an exception, and a sign that even safe little Bree is being infiltrated by the forces of Mordor. How would you even pick them out, in Jackson’s version? Everyone is shifty-eyed and suspicious!
Jackson does not understand that Tolkien is not fantasy that came later. (That can be seen especially in Jackson’s dwarves, which owe more to Games Workshop than to Tolkien. And the idiotic hippie bullshit about pipeweed, which is actually tobacco, I can cite you the appendices to The Return of the King if you want. Between those two things, nobody had any right to be surprised by Radagast, in the Hobbit movie.)
6 notes · View notes
Are you a fan of lord of the rings? What's favorite character? Have you read the silmarillion?
Good morning or should I say Mae Govannen
I am a huge fan of the Lord of the Rings and Tolkien’s writings. I actually have a main blog in which I post more about Tolkien.
I’ve read most of Tolkien’s writing, even some of his scholarly works on middle English etc. But it has been a while since I’ve reread them so please don’t quiz me on them. :)
I find all Tolkien’s characters fascinating and many of them are very lovable. Aragorn keeps a special place in my heart as well as his ancestry. The dúnedain and the Númenirians. I also like very much Eomer (Karl Urban may have a role in this infatuation) but also the elves of Imladris. I also particularly like Elwing and Lúthien.
For many years, I’ve been writing a fanfic in french in which we travel with Aragorn in his journeys through Middle Earth after his departure of Rivendell.
I also love the love stories depicted in Tolkien’s story. Each of them express something beautiful. But of course, Elwing-Eärendil, Lúthien-Beren and Arwen-Aragorn are the most evocative of the strength of love.
I also like how Tolkien expresses the feminine archetype in his writing. Femininity isn’t seen as a weakness but a strength. Characters like Melian, Galadriel or even Gilraen show that power and might isn’t necessarily attached to brute force but something more subtle. This is what Eowyn learns when she goes from shieldmaiden to healer.
But the same can be said of male characters. Aragorn may have played s part in protecting Minas Tirith and Middle Earth but he is recognized as the Returning King for his healing hands.
Although Peter Jackson’s movies are beautifully done, I think it’s a pity they chose to depict Arwen as a weak character whereas in the appendices she is shown as the pillar that gives Aragorn strength to go through his journey. She hold on to hope and she reminds him of hope when he has to go through the path of the dead (with her banner) After all, she makes the greatest sacrifice of all for his sake.
... I think I got carried away.
Yes, I am a fan of Tolkien. I have read the Silmarillion. And I have many many favorite characters.
And you’re a fan too, right? :)
Thank you for asking.
5 notes · View notes
30. most favourite book, film, man, elf, place, ship??
limiting this strictly to LotR-only characters, sorry Gil-galad your dads aren’t in the picture here
favorite book: The Return of the King, and not just for the appendices. “The Tower of Cirith Ungol” is weirdly formative queer literature, when I look back at it and how I saw it as a small ten-year-old.
favorite film: also The Return of the King because of how damn satisfying it is. everything comes together so perfectly and the narrative pitfalls of TTT are easily forgotten.
favorite Man: I’m making myself stick to people who appear in the story and not like. Arvedui and my various random Gondorian faves. my favorite Man is probably Aragorn or Éowyn or Halbarad. Aragorn is fucking great and is easily my favorite book character but also idk if he qualifies as My Favorite Man. I think Éowyn really embodies that Atanin spirit of “hold my beer I got this” and Halbarad is a ride or die badass.
favorite Elf: this is a weird pick but I really really like Gildor Inglorion in the books and in the films I kind of have to say Arwen (there are way fewer elves in the films) because while I love Legolas he’s not Arwen. this is strange circular ten-year-old kid logic but it’s what I’m going with.
favorite place: Imladris. Easily.
favorite ship: in terms of canon-compliant, does Samfro count now that Sean Astin ships it?
8 notes · View notes
Today’s List of Nice Things:
1) Finally bought a real leather jacket. Got tired of all my pleather ones disintegrating in two years.
2) Managed to write about 100 words today! That’s more than I’ve written all month. XD
3) Finished Return of The King (save for the appendices) and like...the parting between Frodo and Sam always makes me cry.
1 note · View note
Long Live the Halflings!
Today is the anniversary of the Long-Expected Party celebrating the eleventy-first birthday of Bilbo Baggins and the coming of age of Frodo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings. It was on this day that Bilbo gave his infamous birthday speech, saying “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve,” before disappearing from the Shire forever.
Also on this day, according to the Appendices of The Lord of the Rings, 99-year-old Samwise Gamgee rode out from Bag End for the final time. He was last seen in Middle-Earth by his daughter Elanor, to whom he presented the Red Book. According to tradition, he then went to the Grey Havens and passed over the Sea, last of the Ringbearers.
And now, in honor of the Baggins Birthdays, the departure of Samwise, and Hobbits in general, here is the song of one of J.R.R. Tolkien’s (and, for that matter, world literature’s) greatest heroes, Samwise Gamgee, when in Cirith Ungol. In this very difficult times, I find myself returning to these verses in particular. They are the epitome of Hobbits and of hope.
In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
1 note · View note