I might have talked about this before, but I love that LOTR doesn’t shy away from Frodo being traumatized.
In the books, Frodo begs his companions to hasten as they approach Weathertop and never looks in its direction as they pass. In the movies, he suffers a violent flashback at the sound of the Witch-King’s shriek.
In both books and movies, he doesn’t talk about ordeals, or if he does it’s only a vague description. He withdraws from his kinsmen and even his friends. On the anniversaries of traumatizing events he is almost completely non-verbal and hugely out of sorts.
Tolkien (and, by extension, Peter Jackson) could have left that ambiguous, but he chose for Frodo to blatantly develop PTSD, and it’s handled gently and with respect, all without stripping Frodo of his humanity. I truly love that.
But at the same time, Frodo is a surprisingly effective force. It’s clearly he who is in ultimate authority during the Scouring of the Shire : he takes advice from Merry and Pippin and Sam, but it’s Frodo calling the shots. It’s Frodo who insists there shall be no killing of hobbits if it’s possible to avoid it, it’s Frodo who wades into a battle between angry hobbits and Sharkey’s Men, without once drawing sword, to stop the hobbits killing Men who try to surrender. It’s Frodo who becomes Deputy Mayor of Michel Delving in order to sort out all the damage done.
Even at the end of LOTR, Frodo is a surprisingly effective person, despite his trauma. And then once everything is sorted out, more or less, he gives it all to Sam and walks away.
Gimli: *mentally* Wait, is he into me? Quick, make a bad joke and see if he laughs.
Gimli: Did you hear the one about the skeleton who couldn’t go to the part? He had no-body to go with.
Legolas: *laughs* That’s really funny!
Gimli: *mentally* Well, that’s not a fair test. That joke’s hilarious!
lasjkhdgflakhs I am THRILLED you liked the Nori bit! Thank you so much, Nonnie! (he miiiiight be entertaining the concept of not-being-an-incurable-cynic. SHOCK GASP AWE) Dis is home at last, so dammit we need a puppy pile. We NEED one.
And Rosie, yus! She is made of golden goodness, so she is. Heh, Bilbs has feelings about that auction still. And Bilbo does grudges like any good Baggins: with slanted, barbed insults (just look at the notes he gave all his presents at his 111th!).
Hope your cold gets better soon, that’s no good! Sending you honey-and-lemon tinged thoughts, Nonnie.
‘eeeey, that fic for @determamfidd is, uh, done. I know it’s been FOREVER since I first said I’d work on it, but uh, it happened. The ending could be better, but you know, whatever tbh. It took me a year to get that ending, I’m okay with it. My crops are watered, even if it won’t be a bountiful harvest or whatever.
Here, ya animals. That AU where Wee Thorin dies during the siege of Erebor.
“Bet I taste horrible,” Wee Thorin clutched his axe in shaking hands. The Orc before him was terrifying, but he would stay strong, and be brave. Like his adad and amad. Like Uncle Balin. “Bet I make you choke.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try!” The Orc sneered, and moved quickly towards him. As it lunged, Wee Thorin swung out his axe as he let out a terrified shriek.
He remembered nothing else.
=0=0=0=
It was very bright, where he found himself, and he didn’t hurt, but he was cold. He felt naked as a newborn bairn, and his nose scrunched a bit at that. He hated being naked, but mostly he hated being cold, and here he was both. He wrapped his arms around himself.
“Welcome, my inùdoy.” Thorin jumped and looked around, though he couldn’t see now.
“Who’s there?” He asked.
“I am Mahal.” The voice said, and the dwarfling froze.
Aw Yiss 