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petermorwood · 26 days

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More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

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After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

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Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

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All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

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There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

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Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

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One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

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Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

#period lighting #tinderbox #too light too dark #social history #writer notes #research #period tech #sword vs lantern #c. j. cherryh

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lathalea · 2 years

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The Tinderbox

I have a surprise for you! A Thorin Oakenshield fic for the Armitage Summer Splash event :)

WEEK 2 - PROMPT 8

Trope: A secret is found out Quote: “Show me your face.”

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Rating: G

You can find this fic on AO3. Khuzdul: Lulkh - fool

The Tinderbox

Thorin always liked stopping by Falunath in his travels. Men, Dwarves, and even a handful of Elves lived there in relative harmony, united by a common enemy: the Orcs. This was another reason why he usually stopped there every year for a couple of weeks on his way back to the Blue Mountains – to his people. Where there were Orc raids, there was a need for weapons and he happened to enjoy forging them. The local smithy owners always welcomed him with open arms, especially Old Matt who always paid well and on time.

There was only one problem. Eidris. A Broadbeam lass with a sharp tongue and a heavy hammer. She worked at Old Matt’s smithy every summer as one of the blacksmiths alongside Thorin. He had to admit, she was quite easy on the eye and Thorin caught himself stealing glances at her from time to time while she worked. Only out of professional curiosity, of course. Her broadswords were the best examples of craftsmanship he had seen in years. In addition to being a constant source of distraction, she was also friendly. Thorin did not do friendly. He stayed away from the everyday chitter-chatter of the other smiths and apprentices; the reason for his presence in the smithy was simple – doing his work and receiving payment which he greatly needed. Besides, being friendly with others implied sharing details of his life – including his identity – and that he wanted to avoid. As far as the good people of Falunath knew, he was simply Thorin the Bladesmith and he preferred to keep it that way.

September that year ended like any other – with rainy and windy weather – and Thorin knew that it was time for him to return to the Blue Mountains. He thanked Old Matt for his hospitality, received a coin-filled purse, and promised to come back next year.

The return journey took him over a week, but when he finally crossed the threshold of his home, it was after midnight. Darkness and silence surrounded him. Not wanting to wake up Dis and the boys, he directed his steps towards his study as quietly as he could. Inside, he lit a candle. Taking the coin purse in his hand, he opened the money chest. At its bottom lay only a handful of copper coins. Thorin let out a sigh. He could only hope that the money he had earned would be enough to buy the needed supplies for the winter – both for his family and for those in need.

A sudden whiff of wind puffed out the candle at his desk. A door squeaked in the distance. Something shifted in the darkness.

“Kili? Your last prank with that skeleton was scarier than this,” Thorin chuckled, walking into the corridor.

There was no response. He stopped in his tracks to listen. And then he heard it.

In a swift move he lunged towards the source of the noise and pressed Kili against the wall.

“Oof!” someone exclaimed. Not Kili. It was a woman’s voice.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he hissed, pinning her arms to the wall not without an effort. The cogwheels in his brain worked in overdrive. A Dwarf-woman. In his own home. Empty-handed. Not an assassin, then. But who? A hood made her features impossible to distinguish in the darkness. Was she a thief? Or a spy?

“Let me go!” she protested and tried to wiggle herself free. She was strong, muscular, and almost as tall as Thorin, but he was stronger. His grip held her firmly in place.

“Not until you answer my question!” he warned the intruder. His face was so close to hers that he could feel her hot breath against his cheek. The sweet scent of honey filled his lungs. Suddenly, he realised that his chest was pressed against the softness of her pleasantly full bosom. Mahal, have mercy on him. This woman most probably was a thief or an assassin and the only thing he could think of was whether her lips tasted like honey.

“I mean no harm to this home or those in it. Mahal be my witness,” the words of an ancient dwarvish pledge reached his ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip.

“Show me your face,” he ordered, ready to act if her intentions were less than honourable despite her words.

Slowly, she raised her hand to the hood. As the damp fabric slid off her head, a mane of light brown hair fell to her shoulders.

“Eidris? What are you doing here?!” he took a step back in confusion.

“I was trying to catch up with you, you lulkh! And the door was ajar,” she stated in an agitated whisper and added, “You’d better tell me what you are doing here!”

“How do you mean what I am doing here?” he grunted. What a cheek!

“This place has the House of Durin markings on the door! Let’s get out of here before the owners wake up!” she pulled at his sleeve. “Unless… You aren’t a thief, are you?”

Thorin stifled a chuckle, not wanting to wake up anyone. He could imagine Fili and Kili’s comments if they were to find him in a dark corridor with a woman, suspiciously close to his bedchamber.

“I happen to live here,” he offered.

“You…” her eyes widened. It was too dark to see them clearly, but he remembered their colour. Hazel. And whenever she stoked the fire in the furnace, amber specks would dance in them. “You… live… here?”

“Aye. It is my home.” he nodded. The cat was out of the bag. There was no point hiding his real identity any longer.

Eidris covered her mouth with her hand and then said, “But… but that would mean that you are…” “Thorin!” a sharp voice together with a faint light filled the corridor. “I hoped it was you! What on earth is that noise?”

“Dis,” he turned towards the newcomer, opening his arms. “It is good to see you too!”

Their embrace was short but affectionate. It felt good to be home.

“Forgive me the commotion, sister. It seems that the joy of returning to you took the better of me,” he smiled fondly.

“Will you not introduce me to your friend?” Dis raised an eyebrow, adjusting the shawl on her shoulders.

Thorin swallowed, casting a glance at the unexpected guest.

“Of course. This is Eidris, daughter of…”

Before his complete lack of knowledge about her lineage became evident, the woman interrupted him.

“Eidris, daughter of Eida. Fifth-generation blacksmith. T-Thorin and I work together in Falunath. It is nice to meet you, my lady,” she greeted his sister formally, but he noticed her hesitation when she spoke his name. It puzzled him. The Broadbeam lass was many things, but she had never hesitated in his presence before.

“Welcome under our roof, Eidris, daughter of Eida. I am Dis, daughter of Valdis. And we don’t use our titles any longer. Waste of time, if you ask me. Please, call me Dis, just like you call my brother by his name,” his sister gave her one of her warm smiles and a conspiratorial wink. “You probably know how cranky he gets when people start addressing him ‘Oakenshield’ or, Mahal forbid, ‘king’...”

“That is enough, dearest sister,” Thorin rolled his eyes. “The hour is late and I would like to offer our guest a proper meal. It rained all day long.”

“By all means! You both look like you need some warm food in your bellies. There is some leftover stew in the kitchen,” Dis smiled and asked in an innocent tone of voice. “Tell me, Eidris, will you be staying the night?”

Thorin could swear that the silence that followed was louder than a dragon’s roar.

“Well, I…” Eidris gave him an uncertain look. “I should be going.”

“In this weather? Out of the question!” Dis protested and Thorin clearly saw amusement on his sister’s face.

“I only came here to drop this off, that is all.” The blacksmith protested, rummaging in her rucksack. After a moment, she produced a familiar bulky leather pouch and offered it to Thorin.

He could not believe his eyes. His fingers quickly untied the straps and took out the contents of the pouch. His favourite fire striker… and the time-worn brass tinder box with a sapphire in its lid. The token he received from his grandfather when he reached half Battle Age. Years and years ago. In another life. Something tightened in his throat.

“I thought I lost it somewhere on the road,” he spoke hoarsely.

“Millie found it under your bed at Old Matt’s when she was sweeping the floor,” Eidris shook her head. “It didn’t look like something you would want to get rid of. I was about to leave Falunath as well, so I decided to return it to you in person.”

“What an incredible coincidence!” Dis chimed in, addressing Eidris. “This is one of Thorin’s most treasured possessions. He takes with him everywhere. And you say it was found under your bed, hmm?”

Thorin narrowed his eyes.

“Under my bed, sister dear. It must have fallen out of my rucksack when I was packing. Thank you, Eidris. I appreciate it more than I can say.” He placed his hand over his heart and lowered his head in thanks. “Please, you must stay the night. I insist. It is the least I can offer you.”

Eidris glanced towards the entrance door.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You are very welcome here, I assure you,” Thorin offered, feeling how his sister’s gaze moved from Eidris to him. Somehow, it made him feel uneasy.

“In that case, I will be honoured,” the Broadbeam lass consented.

“That’s settled then,” Dis clasped her hands together, beaming at them both. “You are staying with us, Eidris, and I hope to get to know you better at breakfast.”

An alarm bell started ringing in Thorin’s head. Loudly.

“That’s very generous of you, Dis,” Eidris shifted one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. But before I leave you to your meal, allow me to ask you one last thing.” His sister acted like an embodiment of the perfect hostess. The alarm bell in Thorin’s head turned into a mine siren that usually wailed moments before a detonation took place.

“Yes?” He heard Eidris’ oblivious voice.

“I’d like to prepare sleeping arrangements for you,” Dis spoke sweetly, treating them both to her most charming smile. “Tell me, shall I make the bed for you in the guest room or will you be sleeping in Thorin’s bedchamber?”

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read and more art to look at? 📜 📜Here is the masterlist for Week 2 for the Armitage Summer Splash event. 📜

General taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @amelia307 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @tschrist1 @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512 @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @elliepie1226 @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @guylty

Thorin/ME taglist: @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @jaskierthelover @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad

#richard armitage #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thorin #romance #blacksmith thorin #armitage summer splash #thorin fic #king under the mountain #tinderbox #the hobbit fanfiction

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