2018 is þe year of using þe þorn again instead of þe letters “T” and “H” in succession
gotta keep it smooþ
þank you
Who let Feanor have a tumblr??
Are you protesting þis?
We are not starting another riot over this. This is not going to end with someone making three jewels, swearing an oath and murdering people over some boats. I’m warning you.
“Tears unnumbered ye shall shed…” Remember that little bit?
I’m fucking warning you.
– Mod Eönwë
PS. Seriously, no more mass murders with poetic names, or I’ll go full “Captain of the Host of the West” on your asses and you won’t be happy about it…
I wanna make some pretty jewels!
– Mod Manwë
Guyþ if Feanor haþ a Tumblr it lookþ þomething like thiþ.
please, please, someone help me out here because i’m broke as shit and can’t afford a copy of peoples of middle-earth to look up the actual shibboleth story – was the linguistic shift addressed by the shibboleth only applied to the unvoiced dental fricative (thulë)? the tengwar suggests that the shibboleth would only come into play when the root of a word was spelled with a thulë, and that any words spelled with a silmë would retain the voiced alveolar fricative (s-sound).
tl;dr: in fëanárian quenya, do all s-sounds become thorns? or just those whose roots contain a thulë? the consonant morphology available on tolkiengateway suggests the latter but literally everyone on tumblr seems to be saying it’s all s’s, whether thulë or silmë. pls help @verymaedhros@alia-andreth@incorrect-middleearth-quotes y’all seem like you know what you’re doing
It’s just those whose roots contain a thulë, or rather, just those that are spelled with a thulë when using tengwar. Unfortunately the English alphabet contains neither thulë nir silmë so if people obeyed those rules in their jokes it wouldn’t be funny anymore.
I love this post because it’s basically
OP: “hey guise let’s have a recreational fight about language”
Silmarillion fandom: *piles out of a clown-car ship with armfuls of miruvor, swords and diacritical marks* did sOMEONE SAY FIGHT ABOUT LANGUAGE
Update: Sauron is not afraid of hobbits. He was unaware that hobbits existed up until very recently. he literally did not have time to be afraid of them, they went from a 0 to 100 threat level in twenty seconds. There he was, minding his own business worrying about the usual Elves and Men when suddenly these kids are on his lawn and now he’s dead, like just;
What did— who–
did I just get one-shotted by an infant how is this occurring
Honestly I have to love this whole thought process that the Fellowship must have cultivated in Sauron, like…
“These children have found the Ring! But they’re taking it to the elves, of course. I will simply have to catch them on the way.”
“Well, the elves are still not to be trifled with, it seems. It looks as though they have a group of intrepid heroes, how cute! Wait, who’s leading them? Aw, hell.”
“OKAY! Olorin’s out of the way, and now I can finally kill them all and reclaim the- OH DAMMIT, IT’S IN LOTHLORIEN.”
“Well, okay. They’ve taken it onward. Curunir says one of the halflings is still carrying the ring, so he’s going to capture them and we’ll see how this develops. Thankfully Olorin’s still out of the picture and their little group just shattered into pieces, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”
“Aaaaaand Curunir shat the bed. Excellent. Trees, who would have thought? Okay, so we’re back to plan A: conquer Gondor, because if the Ring’s going to be anywhere, it’ll be there.”
“Wait, who’s on the– Isildur’s WHAT? Ohhhh. Ohohoho. Oh now everything makes sense. Isildur’s Heir is back, and he’s here being all prideful again. That’s fine. Really. I’ll just crush him and his kingdom, and then nobody can stop me!”
“WHAT? FUCKING WHAT? THEY SENT HIM BACK? Ugh, alright, alright, I’m cool, I’m fine. He’s still got that stupid wizard costume on, and I’m still stronger than he ever was. It’s not like he can come toe to toe with me, even if he does have an army behind him. This’ll be fine.”
“They’re… actually marching on the Black Gate? Sweet lord, I didn’t think they’d actually do it! This is perfect, everyone’s right here! Olorin, the human princeling, most of the remaining fighting forces of Men, all I have to do is kill them now and– Wait. Someone just put on the Ring. Someone just– That’s a halfling. They’re inside the mouNTAIN OH GOD NAZGUL GO GO G–”
…aaaaaand curtain.
you can laugh but that is literally what happened
This is the single best brief summary I have ever seen of the entire point of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
holy shit you just keep making these tougher. UM. LET ME SEE.
everything from “tall helms with plumes of red” to fingolfin trying to make a clean exit and fëanor following him because he isn’t done yelling
fëanor dies
finrod throwing his crown on the ground
turin like, leading mim at spearpoint DIRECTLY into the room where mim’s son is dying, it turns out
when maeglin makes dire insinuations at hurin & huor about the security of gondolin, and hurin’s like, “The King’s grace is great indeed; but if our
word is not enough, then we will swear oaths to you.” and huor’s like “im 14”
OR IS IT MAEGLIN FALLING OFF DRAMATIC IRONY PARAPET. to be honest. i cannot decide.
A realization that strikes them each rather differently, as it transpires.
“You’re churning,” Makalaurë observed, as Maitimo did another length of the carpet. “If you keep it up like that you’re going to wear a spot in Grandmother’s rug and you know Father will get the pained line between his brows.”
“Grandmother’s carpets don’t wear,” said Maitimo, executing another pivot and striding back towards the hearth. “Valar, perhaps I should take a page from her book and just sleep until I am never seen again.”
“That’s a little overwrought,” said Makalaurë, a phrase which from his mouth would usually be enough to shake Maitimo from his turmoil to observe dramatic irony in action. “So you have been kissing Findekáno in the garden, so what?”
“Not just in the garden,” said Maitimo, running a hand through his hair and then stopping as it reminded him of Findekáno’s touch. And not just kissing, he didn’t add. “Also on the veranda, by the canal, under the bridge, next to the peach vendor…”
“So what? What of that is so bad that you need to banish yourself to Námo’s realm rather than continue? I know it’s embarrassing to have an infatuation, especially with someone so…buoyant, but it’s not like Findekáno’s hideous.”
That brought Maitimo to a halt. “He’s not hideous at all,” he said, frowning. “Why would one be embarrassed to be seen with him? He is handsome and well-built, noble and full of life, fun-loving and kind, and why say you ‘buoyant’ as if it is something shameful? He has energy, certainly, but it is of the sort that uplifts rather than wearies and a quality most befitting a prince. Stop laughing,” he said, annoyed, as Makalaurë chortled from the divan. “It is not the optics that concern me – well, not entirely – but it is precisely what you say!”
“What do I say,” said Makalaurë, composing himself.
“Infatuation,” said Maitimo wretchedly. “To him I am but an early crush realized, a light and happy affair to look back on fondly when we are old and wed to others. I thought I could bear it, could stand to suffer the kisses and – and other things, by the peaches and so on, but…”
“But?” prompted Makalaurë, his smile fading.
“I think I love him.” Maitimo sank down, missing the ottoman by a good foot, and landed on Míriel’s weaving with a clatter of long limbs. He folded forward and buried his head in his arms. “Help me, whatever shall I do? He cannot know, he mustn’t, I should not put such pressures on him but brother…” Maitimo lifted red-rimmed eyes. “I cannot take this torment much longer.”
“So,” said Irissë, running wax over her bowstring. “You and Maitimo, eh. How’s that going?”
“Excellent,” said Findekáno, wiping glue from his fletching. “I shall marry that man someday.”
‘Some there are among us who sing that the Shadow will draw back and peace shall come again. Yet I do not believe that the world about us will ever again be as it was of old, or the light of the Sun as it was aforetime.’
Just read an excerpt from a productivity/goal setting book that concerned Tolkien.
His publisher mentioned that people wanted more about the hobbits after Tolkien published The Hobbit.
So Tolkien started another novel.
And apparently bounced between the depths of despair and the height of confidence for the entire process (he said that: “his ‘labour of delight’ had been ‘transformed into a nightmare.’”)
He gave up multiple times.
That book? Fellowship of the Ring.
You know what kept him going? C.S. Lewis’ support.
First lesson: if you’re stressing over your book, remember that Tolkien did too.
Second lesson: Writers have to support each other. Seriously. It might be the difference between a book that becomes beloved by hundreds of thousands (maybe even millions) even existing or not.
This is fair! This is so nice! I love this!
You know what else kept him going while he wrote Lord of the Rings? Well,
having an income while he wrote, that he didn’t really have to work for. In fact, he held his dream job (Professor of Literature) with a full-time income,
that came with a pleasant private office. He sat at work, for which he was being paid to do something else, and actively avoided doing his actual job while he pursued his own unrelated novel.
having a stay-at-home wife to run his entire home and family for him.
having servants…. that helps….
having a large, pretty house within a pleasant 25-minute walk of work.
never having to do:
household maintenance
laundry
cooking
cleaning
Life Admin
the not-fun gardening
the not-fun childcare
The work day
of Men of His Time ended when they came home. Women of His Time, and
Staff, existed to run the rest of his life. And that’s what they did. Jonald Ronald Rolkien Tolkien was the center of his household universe, which existed to support him in every possible way.
Let’s be real: he was not the person who was up in the night with a teething baby. That was what the nanny was for, followed by the wife. It would have been unthinkable for a man of his time/class to do his own childcare.
Actually, it’s worth noting that he had in particular a Very Intelligent Icelandic nanny, who lived in his
house and looked after his four children all day, and was never given a holiday, and told the children lovely bedtime
stories about trolls and the Icelandic Edda, and who provided a useful
resource for the language and myth he used in LoTR, until his wife became too jealous.
I mean, what could YOU do if you had that much support? Write an epic! probably!!
Because nobody was forcing him to do anything, ever, he slept late and woke up late. sounds nice
Tolkien did not do laundry. He did not cook meals. He did not
clean the house. He did not wrestle rice pudding down the necks of
his screaming babies, while calmly and lovingly answering his schoolchild’s questions. He wasn’t
making a cake while talking to his boss on the phone and wiping up the
dog’s sick. He did not spend hours every day in the process of keeping
his home together, or sorting the affairs of his four children, or sorting out the wifi. The Care and Keeping of Tolkien was outsourced to
wife, servants, scouts, assistants, waitstaff.
He would have received free meals at work, although he usually walked home for lunch, where he was served food and alcohol that he took into his private study. but if he didn’t
want to do that, Oxford profs of His Time could just get free lunch. He could ring a bell to be brought tea and snacks at work. And then he would go home and be served dinner.
Going to the pub with his friends, who supported and admired him! Sure!
not
having to go home in the evening to his four toddlers and children, because he was a Man of His Times! and he could totally
just spend evenings holed up in a pub with his admirers, because he was not required at home to help, or parent, or do anything in the home, except be served a glass of beer and go into his study.
god, imagine spending hours in the pub on a work night with a bunch of highly qualified literature professors telling you how smart and lovely and amazing you are. heck YES you’d be encouraged.
The Hobbit was already popular so it was probably quite helpful to know that while writing the next work.
Working and writing in a place that is generally considered to be an
inspiring setting for academia and literature. Want to write Elrond’s
Council? Sit down at a beautiful old stone table and start writing about the table. Want to write about a tree? Go write under
your favorite ancient tree in the Botanical Gardens. Want a snack? Ring a
bell and a scout will bring you toast and a cup of tea.
I mean, he wasn’t exactly spending his 40 hours a week under a manager’s baleful eye while he manned the self-checkouts at the Tesco in Coventry, or pumped gas for minimum wage in Montauk, scribbling notes into his phone. He floated around The City of Dreaming Spires, dreamily making art, while several people labored very hard so that he would be untroubled by Real Life while he floated.
Let’s be real. Tolkien’s literary accomplishments are very impressive, but he L I T E R A L L Y
was doing them on his work clock with the full support of a pit crew.
To be fair, I love the man. And I love the huffy apologism in the Tolkien Gateway: “Writing [The Fellowship of the Ring] was slow due to Tolkien’s perfectionism, and was frequently
interrupted by his obligations as an examiner, and other academic
duties.”
I’m ??? sorry that writing a novel on the company dime was frequently interrupted by occasionally having to do his job???? oh my god I love and hate this so much,
Dianna Wynne Jones, of Tolkien’s students at Oxford, commenting “of Tolkien, they said he was wasting his time on hobbits when he should have been writing learned articles…”
maybe because that’s what academics are SUPPOSED TO DO, it is their job,,,
He would also deliberately mumble incomprehensibly, ignoring his students, deliberately delivering terrible lectures, so that they would all go away; but Dianna actually wanted to receive some of the education she’d been promised:
“I imagine I caused Tolkien much grief by turning up to hear him lecture week after week, while he was trying to wrap his lectures up after a fortnight and get on with The Lord of the Rings (you could do that in those days, if you lacked an audience, and still get paid).”
God love the man! Deliberately teaching so badly because he planned to alienate his students and collect a paycheck! He would be flayed on social media for less, today. There would be news articles about the Lazy Professor. He would be fired, and buried, and dug up, and fired again.
In conclusion: yeah, CS Lewis was very encouraging and that helped immensely! But probably so did a secure income, freedom from chores and labor, and a crew of support staff. Who knows what we might do, if we all had that kind of encouragement. We’d probably be very productive.
Update: Legolas’ pupils are about 3.5 cm wide each. Now drawing kawaii Legolas on physics assignment.
And they told you science was no fun.
Science!
I’m going to do it. I’m going to hand it in.
Legolas’s pupil size isn’t the problem here, though. 5 leagues is 17.262 miles. The curvature of the Earth means that for a person of average height, the visual horizon is less than three miles away. Even if your vision is telescopic and the atmosphere is perfectly clear, you can’t see around the planet. If they were standing on a hill, it would have to be at LEAST 198 feet above sea level in order to see the horizon at 17.2 miles away, with nothing tall in between. Which, knowing Rohan, isn’t impossible.
But consider: Elven satellite eyeballs.
you mean like
@sidereanuncia it’s back, the post that I can only imagine haunts your nightmares
I shall never find peace.
Also, for what it’s worth, there’s absolutely no reason to believe that the curvature of Middle Earth is the same as that of Earth.
There’s no evidence that Middle Earth curves.
Yeah there is. The Silmarillion states that the world was curved after the fall of Numenor (I believe), preventing access to Valinor. But Elves (among others) can travel the straight path across it.
So middle earth is round, but not for Elves because magic.
So wait, the reason he can see that far is because Elves just have the ability to ignore the curve of the earth? That’s awesome. It also means that no matter how good your optics got, you would always want elf eyes manning the spyglass because they can see arbitrarily far while everybody else is limited by this ‘horizon’ bullshit.
Oh thank God, my poor elf prince has seen too much in this post
Elves are flat-earthers
This post went from amusing to horrifying, to be brought back down to amusing, sprinkled in with some cannon explanation, and then you leave me here in fucking outrage
Okay so I did not know only a year had passed between these events. It was Maedhros who negotiated the land things, I believe.
Dude went from half-dead in Angband right back to being a fantastic leader within ONE YEAR and honestly, dude was like, prolly writin letter and getting briefings while in a hospital bed, dude,,,,
further reasons why I dislike Broken Pity Puddle interpretations of post-Thangorodrim Mae
this guy sat down in his hospital bed and rearranged the politics of an entire continent via snail mail and if that aint the most badass shit idek
you’re right he is so feanor’s son
Hmm.
These are Points to Consider.
I fucking love Maedhros. I know he’s a bit problematic to have as a favorite character, but godDAMN does he do it well.
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, Maedhros is a fucking badass. He probably started working again early with the power of spite alone fueling him
Maedhros, immediately after having his hand cut off: so fingon what’s up hows the stock market hows the housing development
He was cut down off the mountain and he’s like “Whelp guess I’m gonna live. Hey Finno how’s the treasury looking?”
“We have 32 cents and a ball of lint.”
“ErU ILLuvaTAR! The war won’t pay for itself! Get my broker on the line!”
“Russo I am your broker.”
Maedhros be like „I have an oath to uphold get thee gone from my hospital bed“
“Sir you’ve lost three pints of blood.” “But mY OATH!!”
Maglor: Brother, your hand–
Maedhros: can do better running an army hanging off a cliff than you can in 30 years!!!
*whisper* he’s right tho
fingolfin: which one of us is the high king of the noldor here
maedhros, leading the first line of defense against morgoth, negotiating land rights for all three houses of the noldor in beleriand, orchestrating political and military unions with other races, and keeping 5 brothers from murdering everyone else on the continent:
I got an anon prompting me for more Fingros. I’ll get to it soon (…it’s a good prompt!) but clearly I’ve been letting the side down so here’s some garbage I wrote ages ago for partner in crime @imindhowwelayinjune while we were doing Treat Me Soft. It’s literally just this but with the OTP. Sorry not sorry.
“Alright,” Fingon said, hoping he sounded soothing and not vaguely panicked. The surgeries were done. No complications, the healers had assured him. Everything had gone as well as could be expected and Maedhros was as healthy as anyone in his situation could be. Which was not close to healthy enough, Fingon thought, his heart aching. “Eat the lembas.“
I just want to say that in the entirety of the Silmarillion, my favorite line is, and always will be, this one:
“Then Beren sprang from before Celegorm full upon the speeding horse of Curufin that had passed him; and the Leap of Beren is renowned among Men and Elves”
These losers told multiple stories about how Luthien’s boyfriend jumped really far that one time yet don’t even tell us the name of Elros Tar-Minyatur’s wife I stg if that isn’t a flashing neon announcement that these histories are haphazard yarns with no sense of proportion full of gaping holes of unimaginably significant and influential backstory that everyone should feel invited to fill to your heart’s content I don’t know what is
the thing I also love about this is like. Do we think Beren and Luthien told anyone about “that time Beren jumped really high”? Do we think that even registered on the roster of shit dealt with that day. No! What has to have happened is Celegorm verbally shitposted for fifty years to the tune of that one long reblog chain about ~humans being freaky aliens who survive amputation and head injuries, and then to his immense dismay people listened while he did it
Maglor abruptly gets up from the table. “Where are you going, I haven’t even got to the part where Curufin shot him” “I HAVE TO SCORE AN ACTION SCENE”
We’ve all seen the Rio coverage, we all know that a man jumping kinda high > the personhood of women
fuckin,,,if i see 1 more post about the ‘helpless firstborn’ or w/e im gonna lose my shit. firstborn more like freakborn this one time one of em jumped like a gd frog or flea or something you know those things that can jump a million times their own size and it made it i shit you not across an entire clearing onto a goddamn horse and i was just there like dude wat,, are you fuckin kidding me with this???? imho i think all these stories abut them being ‘delicate’ and ‘prone to weakness’ and ‘get germs’ or wev are stories they make up themselves for pity or maybe to fuck wit us because this freak flea-ass motherfucker made a leap all the way onto my bros horse like it was nbd and this was after i thought i put the bastard dOWN
and then i come on this goddamn site and see sjws posting about edain rights and i,m like u kidding, yeah, RIGHTS TO GET OFF MY BROS GD HORSE AND GIVE MY COAT BACK smh