the thing about lotr that the movies don’t convey so fully is how the story is set in an age heavily overshadowed by all the ages before. they’re constantly traveling through ruins, discussing the glory of days gone by, the empires of men are much diminished, the elves (especially galadriel) are described as seeming incongruent, frozen in time….some of the imagery is even near-apocalyptic, like the ruins of moria and of course the landscape surrounding mordor
this is a strange thought to me, somehow: that the archetypal “high fantasy” story is set at the point where the…fantasy…used to be much higher? this is not the golden age; this is a remnant
LotR is Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome of the elves.
i want to emphasize that people have added excerpts of their theses in reply to this post but this is still my favorite reblog
Tag: tolkien
All fanwank aside, never forget that Tolkien’s actual, ostensibly canonical explanation for why the Fellowship didn’t just ride the Eagles to Mordor is basically “because the Eagles are huge assholes” – and given Middle-Earth’s demonstrable track record with trusting people in positions of authority to do anything constructive, that’s probably not an unreasonable concern!
@siliquasquama replied:
The eagles used to be pals with Manwë himself. They used to guard
GONDOLIN. Ferrying a bunch of people hither and thither is beneath them.… and the fact that they’d regard literally saving the world as beneath their dignity is a big part of why they’re huge assholes.
Éowyn – fan art by Eleni
Tsami‘A
sword rang as it was drawn. “Do what you will; but I will hinder
it, if I may.”’
who The fuck names meds “Zoloft” sounds like some dark wizard cursing me for not wiping my feet before I enter his house and “sertraline” is his snakewife
Xanax the White
I saw a quiz on the internet once where there was a list of names and you had to guess whether it was a Tolkien elf or a prescription medicine.
http://quizzes.howstuffworks.com/quiz/drug-or-tolkien-elf-quiz
we all know thats a load of shit gandalf
YOU THREW A FUCKING DWARF RAVE AT HIS HOUSE WITHOUT HIS PERMISSION.
Dwarf rave
#gandalf’s ‘little nudges’ are what the rest of us call ‘forcible insertion into a catapult’ (via souridealist)
Tolkien was not always so popular.
ICONIC
tfw ur elf-tolerance maxes out
All my friends to me
Haleth and Caranthir
i can’t believe it’s not the sons of fëanor
I bet this is exactly what Thingol thought in his final moments when the dwarves of Nogrod descended upon him.
If only Fingolfin were born first.
#silmarillion#‘murdered by younger brother/daddy’s favorite age 261’#…i would read every word of that au mostly for fingolfin’s polite nonaggression act @ feanor becoming suddenly that much more#conspicuous after he latches onto baby finarfin like a companionship-starved limpet#also tbh: momswap where feanor is precociously violent in defense of indis’s claim#miriel is a DEAD WOMAN WHAT IS HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT#fingolfin sitting under a giant leaf in lorien: he has a point mother! what do you think#miriel’s animate corpse: mouthbreathes via @gurguliare
“You always were my favourite nephew,” Fingolfin said, once they knew Fingon would live.
It was patently untrue and had Galadriel hissing like a kettle come to boil and Curufin pursing his lips against a smile. Maedhros, fresh from rinsing clots of his cousin’s blood out of his hair, thanked him gravely and moved the subject on, to the matter of kingdoms and supplies.
“Fool,” Curufin snapped afterwards. “We can use this. The crown-”
“Is something we are well rid of.” Our priority is the Oath, he would have added, not long ago. “Fingon will not take well to being maimed,” he said instead. “If you’re so concerned with winning hearts, see what you can do for him.”
“It was not so bad as all that,” Fingon insisted, when he was well enough to insist upon anything. “Merely dull.”
“Boredom was the worst torture they could imagine for you, no doubt,” Maedhros said and held him through the nightmares without comment. It was, perhaps, the worst torture he could imagine for himself but that was a maudlin, self-indulgent thing to think.
“The ballad that I shall make of this!” Maglor cried. All his resentment over being left to rule as regent had vanished in the face of such a song. “A light of hope, blazing against the dark! A triumph of love and loyalty over wicked cruelty!”
Maedhros remembered well the eagle’s words and remembered too that Morgoth’s followers were loyal. He let Maglor have his song though, for they were in desperate need of hope and because it would likely annoy Fingon a great deal.
“I cannot believe you let them make a song of it,” said Fingon, greatly annoyed. “Fingon the Valiant they called me and yet in this great accounting of Noldorin deeds I am a useless, swooning lump. First my hand and now my epithet. What will you steal from me next?”
“Keep the Valiant,” Maedhros said soberly. “But add that stuffed horse I never returned to the tally of my crimes.”
“Do not think I have forgotten. Cloppy will be avenged once I can wield a sword again.” That Fingon could and would learn to fight with his left had not been in doubt since the moment he first woke.
There were apologies to be made. For the ice and the docks and for not being handier with a file. But when Maedhros opened his mouth and saw the look on Fingon’s fair, scarred face, he knew they would not be welcome. He kissed Fingon instead, and that was accepted with unprincely enthusiasm.
Love was not sufficient reason for so many things. But for some it was.
just moving along like everyone else 