Legolas pretty quickly gets in the habit of venting about his travelling companions in Elvish, so long as Gandalf & Aragorn aren’t in earshot they’ll never know right?
Then about a week into their journey like
Legolas: *in Elvish, for approximately the 20th time* ugh fucking hobbits, so annoying
Frodo: *also in Elvish, deadpan* yeah we’re the worst
Legolas:
~*~earlier~*~
Legolas: ugh fucking hobbits
Merry: Frodo what’d he say
Frodo: I’m not sure he speaks a weird dialect but I think he’s insulting us. I should tell him I can understand Elvish
i mean, honestly it’s amazing the Elves had as many languages and dialects as they did, considering Galadriel (for example) is over seven thousand years old.
english would probably have changed less since Chaucer’s time, if a lot of our cultural leaders from the thirteenth century were still alive and running things.
they’ve had like. seven generations since the sun happened, max.
frodo’s books are old to him, but outside any very old poetry copied down exactly, the dialect represented in them isn’t likely to be older than the Second Age, wherein Aragorn’s foster-father Elrond started out as a very young adult and grew into himself, and Legolas’ father was born.
so like, three to six thousand years old, maybe, which is probably a drop in the bucket of Elvish history judging by all the ethnic differentiation that had time to develop before Ungoliant came along, even if we can’t really tell because there weren’t years to count, before the Trees were destroyed.
plus a lot of Bilbo’s materials were probably directly from Elrond, whose library dates largely from the Third Age, probably, because he didn’t establish Imladris until after the Last Alliance. and Elrond isn’t the type to intentionally help Bilbo learn the wrong dialect and sound sillier than can be helped, even if everyone was humoring him more than a little.
so Frodo might sound hilariously formal for conversational use (though considering how most Elves use Westron he’s probably safe there) and kind of old-fashioned, but he’s not in any danger of being incomprehensible, because elves live on such a ridiculous timescale.
to over-analyse this awesome and hilarious post even more, legolas’ grandfather
was from linguistically stubborn Doriath and their family is actually from a
somewhat different, higher-status ethnic background than their subjects.
so depending on how much of a role Thranduil took in his
upbringing (and Oropher in his), Legolas may have some weird stilted old-fashioned speaking tics in his
Sindarin that reflect a more purely Doriathrin dialect rather than the Doriathrin-influenced Western Sindarin that became the most widely spoken Sindarin long before he was born, or he might have a School Voice
from having been taught how to Speak Proper and then lapse into really
obscure colloquial Avari dialect when he’s being casual. or both!
considering legolas’ moderately complicated political position, i expect he can code-switch.
…it’s
also fairly likely considering the linguistic politics involved that Legolas is reasonably articulate in Sindarin, though
with some level of accent, but knows approximately zero Quenya outside of loanwords into Sindarin, and even those he mostly didn’t learn as a kid.
which would be extra hilarious when he and gimli fetch up in Valinor in his little homemade skiff, if the first elves he meets have never been to Middle Earth and they’re just standing there on the beach reduced to miming about what is the short beard person, and who are you, and why.
this is elvish dialects and tolkien, okay. there’s a lot of canon material! he actually initially developed the history of middle-earth specifically to ground the linguistic development of the various Elvish languages!
Legolas: Alas, verily would I have dispatched thine enemy posthaste, but y’all’d’ve pitched a feckin’ fit.
Aragorn: *eyelid twitching*
Frodo: *frantically scribbling* Hang on which language are you even speaking right now
Pippin, confused: Is he not speaking Elvish?
Frodo, sarcastically: I dunno, are you speaking Hobbit?
Boromir, who has been lowkey pissed-off at the Hobbits’ weird dialect this whole time: That’s what it sounds like to me.
Merry, who actually knows some shit about Hobbit background: We are actually speaking multiple variants of the Shire dialect of Westron, you ignorant fuck.
Sam, a mere working-class country boy: Honestly y’all could be talkin Dwarvish half the time for all I know.
The next two Avatars, from water and earth, live without ever knowing who they are.
Zuko still spoke out at the meeting, he still refused to fight his father in the Agni Kai.
Zuko was banished, and in his search to find the Avatar, earth bends.
He is the Avatar and doesn’t know what to do about it.
Okay but consider:
Zuko, punching the air: “I MUST FIND THE AVATAR!”
*rock goes flying*
Zuko, waving his arms for emphasis: “IT IS THE ONLY WAY”
*strong wind knocks over grunt in the background*
Zuko, stomping dramatically: “TO RESTORE MY HONOR!”
*deck behind zuko becomes covered in ice*
Iroh, stroking his beard: “…. hmmmmmm…”
And Iroh just decides to mess with him and just goes “Well, I suppose we should start searching” and Zuko doesn’t find out until later in the episode
Nah man, gimme a whole season of Zuko and Iroh’s hijinks as they search for the avatar and it’s Zuko the whole time. A whole season of Iroh waffling between goofy uncle and “here let me teach you about balance-” “I DON”T NEED BALANCE I NEED TO RESTORE MY HONOUR” “okay cool you do you kid i bet the avatar’s behind that rock please move it for me”
zuko saying he needs to find the avatar, when actually, he just needs to find himself is his original story arc
“Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me – you could never have won. It’s not your fault.”
The ancient and powerful villain may have had a calm and gentle face as he spoke, but he was furious, not at the hero, but the gods for continually sending kids and teenagers to fight their battles.
Tears fell from the heroes eyes, staining their cheeks. “I don’t g-get it… You’re not supposed to be kind!” The words left the hero’s mouth breathless, strained, and disbelieving. The gods had said the cause was righteous, that they were destined for this; so why, then, had they failed? Why, then, was the villain looking so kindly at them? And why, then, were they so relieved to hear those words from his mouth?
The villain knelt. Gods, so far as the hero knew, did not kneel. They towered and gleamed and spoke in booming voices that seemed to shake the sky itself. They were beautiful, and powerful, and above the ken of mortals. They said their brother had fallen – but the hero’s thoughts could only blank, as they saw him not stumble, nor falter, but bring himself to their level of his own accord.
“What am I supposed to be?” he asked.
The hero swallowed. Was this a test? The gods had warned that the Trickster could be beguiling.
“You… you want to bring about the end,” they accused. Reminding themselves as much as anything.
The villain nodded.
“Yes,” he agreed. Admitted; confessed. The hero waited for him to gloat. They were so tired. The weapons that they had been given had been so heavy. The magic in their veins had burned. They had fought so hard to reach this lair, the Throne of the Fallen God… but now they cannot even see a throne. Just a place that looks like a prison, too-long lived in.
Seal him back in.
“I can’t…” they say. Can’t let you do that, is what they know they should be saying. But somehow it stops there. Everyone is counting on them. Counting on them to save the day, to stop the end of the world.
The villain reaches over, and rests a steadying hand on their shoulder.
“Shh,” he repeats. “I know. A dozen mortal years and a thousand divine gifts are not enough to thwart a hatred that has been building for centuries in the heart of a god. You were a good champion. Better than they deserve. But if I let another one of you win, it will only mean a different child is sent, in another hundred years. It is not fair. I should not have let this go on for so long. I am sorry, little one.”
The hero trembles in exhaustion. The corners of their eyes itch, as they meet the villain’s gaze. It must be a trick. It must be. But they do not have the strength to fight it. Hot tears track down their cheeks, as they slump in defeat.
The villain squeezes their shoulder.
“You did well,” he assures them. They should not take comfort in it. And yet, he sounds so convinced that they cannot help it. Weak, they think. To come so far and fall for all the tricks at the end, to falter in the last moment. They scrub at their cheeks. But they do not resist, as the villain scoops them up, and holds them with one arm. Like a parent carrying a child. Tall enough for the hero to remember being even smaller. He pats their back, and brings them with him to the dread altar in the center of the chamber.
“It is time for the end,” he says. “You do not have to watch.”
They should, they think. It would be brave to.
They close their eyes, and turn their face towards the villain’s shoulder instead. His voice rumbles as he finishes the incantation. Through closed eyelids they see something flash; but when they blink their eyes reflexively open, they find that a hand has moved to shield their gaze for them. The ground shakes. The air turns hot, and then cold. The strange objects arrayed around the villain’s layer tremble and clatter, like an earthquake.
This is it.
Sorry, Mama. Sorry, Papa.
I wasn’t strong enough.
They brace themselves as it all comes to an end.
Ha! You wish! Watch as I turn this serious and angsty thread into a bittersweet sugar fest! Muse, let’s hit it!
The ground shakes and trembles. A cry rips through the air
itself, cracks of thunder, gales of wind; the voices of hundreds of ancient
beings grasping desperately at the last straws that may keep them alive. That
may keep them here. That may keep them immortal.
Trembling, the hero curls in on themselves, hoping against
hope that it won’t hurt. That it will be swift and painless, just like people
said it was for their Mama and Papa when the lightning struck them down. Never
mind their screams, never mind that they still twitched and convulsed before
the ax man finished them off.
The cries reach their crescendo, each note seemingly trying
to tear the very fabric of existence apart. This is it. They curl up just a
little bit tighter and…
You’re comparing highly polished mainstream examples of iconic Japanese media to low budget, indie, and amateur american works. If you wanted to be fair the second image should look more like this:
The cultural exchange between American and Japanese art, particularly in animation, is hardly a one way streak.
Here we have Panty and Stocking, which boasts an artistic style that draws heavily upon modern western animation with it’s hard outlines and comical proportions. Shows like Dexter’s Laboratory barrow dynamic posses, dramatic framing, and highly expressive faces form anime and manga. Early anime and manga developed it’s distinct big eyes and childlike features by taking cues from western animation of the 20′s and 30′s
Betty Boop, in particular, was immensely popular in Japan. Her creators even made this short in appreciation of her Japanese fan-base.
WAIT I CAN ADD TO THIS ALREADY OBSCENELY LONG POST.
The entire Magical Girl genre is a big example of Western (primarily U.S.) and Japanese cultural exchange!
BeWitched (which was inspired by the 1940′s American movie “I Married a Witch”) was incredibly popular with young girls! This prompted the creation of the first popular Magical Girl Sally the Witch.
When the “Little Witch” Subgenre was big in the 70s the U.S. countered with animated Sabrina (from the Archie comics) which followed the same formula albeit with an older girl.
The 80s we start seeing more “flash of light” henshins/transformations being utilized along with the rise of the “Magical Idol” sub-genre in Japan it gave birth to shows like Creamy Mami and Magical Emi, in the U.S. it made way for Jem and the Holograms and She-Re Princess of Power (not a magical idol but still uses “flash of light” transformations). Jem was even a collab with U.S. doing the writing and Japan doing the animation!
The “Magical Warrior” sub-genre emerges in the 90s (even tho it has roots in the 70s with shows like Cutie Honey). This doesn’t catch on in America until the early 00′s with Atomic Betty (Canadian creation) and The Life and Times of Juniper Lee but we did see the start of it with the Canadian/Argentinian collab called Cyber Six. We also get W.I.T.C.H. and WINXClub in the early 00s from Italy which are both probably the most heavily influenced from Japan’s then current MG show structure.
Today we have Steven Universe, Bee and Puppycat, Star vs. the Forces of Evil, Lolirock, The Miraculous Ladybug, and if it gets picked up Twelve Forever which are all great Western MG shows that are influenced by Japan!
I could go on, I haven’t even scraped the ice berg on this! I have a whole hour panel I run on this subject called “Magical Girls from Around The World”
The point is the Magical Girl genre- and tbh animation in general- has been Japan and America (with some other Western countries thrown in) talking back and forth since the 60s. I leave you with probably the most direct influence:
can I add to this that Osamu Tezuka aka “the God of modern Manga”
was inspired by Bambi
into deciding to give big eyes to his drawings so that they would look more expresive. He also remained a big fan of a certain Jewish American animator until his death, oh yeah this guy
Walt Disney himself was also intrested in Tezuka’s work, with Astroboy being one of his favorites. A similar case exists now between John Lasseter (Pixar and Disney fame) and Hayao Miyasaki (Studio Ghibli) who are big fans of each other’s work.
Japan and America are less of a competition to those who work on it and more of an inspiration, it is very often the fans and not the creators who create rivalries between people that would be friends in real life.
just moving along like everyone else 