Tag: Anonymous

Dearest Dets, I had such an emotional, draining morning that, while it was good, left me feeling wrung out. I need some music, I thought, scrolled through my bookmarks to find THE song. Curser landed on “Light on the Horizon”. Okay, then. And it was perfect, it was so exactly what I needed that I don’t have words to describe the perfection. Still feeling wrung out, but a good deal lighter. Thank you. – heire

*EPIC HUGS*

I am so glad it was what you needed. All my love to you, and thank you SO much. 

I hope that tomorrow is gentler to you. *hugs some more* 

What is your favorite scene in all of Lord of the Rings, if you absolutely had to choose just one? (optional: and why?)

Oh cripes. I’ve been mulling this over in the back of my head all day. This is a real puzzler, Nonnie. But thank you so much for asking!

Basically, it comes down to two possibilities:

1. Fave book moment

The Glittering Caves speech, from The Two Towers. This was difficult, as there are SO many moments that make me die/cry/laugh on the inside. I honestly can’t overstate HOW MUCH i love the Scouring of the Shire, for instance… or Merry and Pippin’s greeting at Isengard… or “I liked white better”, or “I go to find the sun!” – or roughly a million different Sam Gamgee moments. But for me this is the most affecting and simply beautiful writing in the whole of the brick. Tolkien doesn’t get lyrical often – his expressive moments either swing more to the “heroic saga” style (see: every speech by Aragorn ever) or to the romantically pastoral. This speech, though – it’s just. glorious, and passionate, full of joy and beauty and awe, and it soars. It is so evocative, and it just soars. 

Also, this speech is the first time we hear of beauty as seen through the eyes of Dwarves, as spoken by a Dwarf – and wouldja look at that, it is the most poetic and graceful prose in the whole dang thing. 😀

I recorded it once, a zillion years ago. 

2. Fave movie moment

Okay, I’m a music twit, everybody knows it. And music was absolutely the thing that stole my vote. It was a damn close race. 

Runner up: Edge of Night (Pippin’s Song)

the juxtaposition of Faramir’s hopeless bravery against this song = I am dead, I am very dead.

WINNER: The Beacons of Minas Tirith

(that tremolo strings motif? yup, it was absolutely the inspiration for the ending ostinato in Light on the Horizon. I want to take off into the sky, soaring into the wild – I want to fly into the goddamned sunrise EVERY SINGLE TIME I HEAR THIS MUSIC)

How are you writing Durin’s reincarnations as working? Does he retain memories of his past lives at all, or does he only get them back in the Halls? I like to think that maybe he has access to memory and understanding from his past lives, but can only understand them at a developmentally accurate level, so like baby Durin has no sequential memories whatsoever and is just a baby, but five year old Durin has his memories but struggles with contextualizing them as not just disjointed moments. (1/2)

(2/2) This interpretation of Durin’s memories appeals to me because I like to picture him in a circle of dwarflings, all demanding to know if he remembers any swear words. Little five year old equivalent Durin looks around solemnly. ‘You want me to use my gift of immortality, one of the most sacred stories of our people, to teach you to swear?’ They nod. That is exactly what they want. Durin leans in. ‘Fuck,’ he whispers. Someone clears their throat behind him. He turns. It’s Bomfris.

THAT IS THE BEST MENTAL IMAGE OMG – oh you are in for it now boyo…!!!

I’ve speculated a little about how Durin’s reincarnations might work in this post here, Nonnie! 

Ughhh I’m just going all gooey bc of Dís II and Durin twin shenanigans and them with their parents???

oooh, this sparked some ideas, Nonnie! Thank you for the lovely prompt 🙂

All newborns are generally a tiny bundle of responses and needs, but give them a few months and they begin to show their distinct personalities…

Durin is an easy sleeper, but Dísith is a demanding cuddler. She likes to fall asleep on her father’s chest, her little fingers buried in his beard. It’s Dain’s old chair, too. The Stonehelm leans back, props up a book and holds her against his heartbeat until she stops mumbling and fussing, and finally falls asleep. It’s not unheard of for her father to fall asleep that way too, the pages of his book riffling open and neglected on his lap.

Bomfris has discovered them together this way, more than once. 

Durin is a grabber. He has a strong, stubborn grip that causes Bomfris both pride and worry. He’s ENDLESSLY curious, and is most definitely that child that sticks everything in his mouth. He is also good at focusing early: he follows his mother’s finger as she waves it before him, and grabs for his toys with something a little more purposeful than the usual baby flail. 

Dísith is not a wailer. She is a HOWLER. When she is upset – say, she is wet, or hungry, or sleepy – she yells blue murder. Sometimes little ones just yell at their parents, and the parent is left with the guessing-game of OH GOD WHAT IS WRONG WE JUST DON’T KNOW, WE’VE TRIED IT ALL… and Dísith will just yell and yell, red in the face, a furious little nugget of discontent. 

Durin is the one who likes being carried everywhere. He is the backpack baby, the one who is chill with being worn in a sling or bundled onto Mum or Dad’s back and just watching everything happen with massive eyes (not all babies are into baby-wearing, jsyk! Some, but not all). He’ll put up with a bit of jostling if it means he’s strapped to Bomfris’ back as she goes about the Mountain. 

(Dísith will put up with it for a little while… but only if she is strapped facing forward.)

Dísith sits up early. Lying on her back constantly is boring as hell, and she wants to be an active part of everything instead of observing the ceiling all the time. She was a good roller, and was happy enough on her tummy too. It was almost as though she knew she had to strengthen those neck muscles enough to sit up herself. Before she was strong and big enough to sit, however… if you didn’t prop her up with cushions and include her in the conversation, you were toast. She is not a passive lil bubba. 

(Durin was decidedly NOT happy during Tummy Time). 

Disith chews her feet. She also learns to pull off her nappy. She was the first to crawl, and dear Mahal below the turn of speed she has is alarming. 

Durin sucks his thumb. He also is quick to begin ‘cruising’ on the furniture, using his strong little grip to haul himself upright and shuffle himself along. 

The one who takes to solid food first is

Dísith. FOOD IS AWESOME, MORE PLEASE. Durin is slightly fussier, and takes longer to adjust. Dinners with Durin are very messy. The Stonehelm has gone to council with mashed cauliflower and sweet potato on his jacket more than once. 

Durin smiles first, but Disith laughs first. Once they are both giggling, Bomfris develops an addiction to blowing raspberries on those lil chubby tummies, just to hear that laughter.

Teething Sucks. So. Much. For everybody involved. It’s bad enough with one, but two is nightmarish. Thira and Alris stay with the twins for a night during the ordeal, so that the Stonehelm and Bomfris can escape and grab 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. They were beginning to look sort of… haunted. 

There we go, some first-year!twins ideas 🙂

Adding to the Stonehelm + Hobbit ideas… What if his hobbit was Trotter, the OG Aragorn

OH MY GOOD GOLLY I’M CACKLING

So, anybody confused should read this post… and then this one, for the tags especially. 

well, the dynamic would be very… very different. Um.

the Stonehelm would spend a lot of the time perplexed and exasperated at this incompetent little Hobbit Leeroy Jenkins. I mean, I get the impression that Trotter would legit attack the ankles of a troll, if even slightly provoked. And he goes about the place trying to act all portentous and mysterious a lot. Which = ridiculous. 

So the Stonehelm would be saving his pugnacious butt, over and over again. There would be eye-rolling. 

Trotter would be calling the Stonehelm a useless wet blanket a lot, I feel. BC my version of Stonehelm is.. a bit diffident and self-effacing, and doesn’t feel like he’s as good as either his namesake or his father. He’s honestly a bit of a close-mouthed awkward butterknife… unless he’s truly and properly angry. So he’d be advising caution a lot. WHICH TROTTER WOULD HATE, bc he is THE SCION OF DESTINYYYYYYY. 

but maybe they’d also have Heartwarming Shenanigans, wherein Trotter would get some lessons in being less of a sword-happy ass having better judgement in battle, caution, respect etc… and the Stonehelm would learn to respect and admire Trotter’s sheer determination and refusal to give up or back down.

(Ol’ Gammer Boffin would hit them both with her stick, bc they’re both bloody idiots and she just dgaf.)

After having listened to the stories of The Company, oh, at least a thousand times, Thorin Stonehelm decides that he *NEEDS* a hobbit of his own, so he can be JUST LIKE THORIN OAKENSHIELD. He drafts plans to go to the Shire, and endlessly debates whether to burgle the original Burglar, or to find his own, new hobbit. His father finds out, smacks Dwalin for giving him foolish ideas, and revokes his Dale visiting privileges.

oh my goddddd

but now I really want to see The Adventures of Thorin Stonehelm and Old Gammer Boffin, a widowed pig-farmer of Hardbottle. 

I have my re-sit papers for my A-level monday morning and I’m trying so hard to keep focused and not read anything that’s not Ancient rome-related. It’s so hard :(

YOU CAN DO IT. 

You can!

Shove those Rome books away for a weekend. Don’t watch those shows. Just make it through THIS weekend, and you are golden! One weekend! AND THEN – ALL THE ROME YOUR HEART COULD DESIRE. ALL THE INTRIGUE, POISONINGS, POLITICS, PRAETORIAN GUARDS, SENATORS, ORATORS, REALLY WEIRD FAMILIES, AND FABULOUS EXTRA-NESS. 

it will all be there for you on the other side! I am rooting for you, Nonnie. GO GET EM. 

(handy dandy hint from a fellow attention-diver: use Pomodoro study technique! That way, you are using both an Italian study technique, you lovely Ancient Rome Enthusiast you, and you will also be giving yourself short breaks in which to read a quick Ancient Roman anecdote before getting back into your study again! So you won’t be obsessing over what you CAN’T be looking at! Here’s an online tomato timer!)

Every time I think about that sneak peek with Tauriel I start wheezing because, while it gave me all the feels, it also gave me the mental image of Tauriel bursting through the doors to the Halls and everybody just. Stares at her. And then she sees Thorin Oakenshield and she’s like, “Oh heeeey, uh, my guy, long time no see, I know you hate elves but uh, if you could just put that sword down,” and then is horrified when he starts laughing hysterically because of fucking course she’s here why not.

I started dying at Tauriel calling Thorin ‘my guy’ and haven’t stopped

Heeeeeeey my guy, looking good, looking… a lot less dead-ish. All right? *finger guns* heeeeeey uh, yeah, cool beans… so um, if you could just refrain from making with the stabbity, could you point me in the direction of… what. what – is there something on my face? What?!? WHAT the HELL IS SO FUNNY. 

Did preteen!Gimli have an awkward beard growing in phase? Like, was he carefully tracking growth to see when his chin tuftiness would meet his sideburns? Was he staring at the mirror every day wishing that those two bald patches by his chin would grow over? Mizim tried to comfort him but it didn’t help much. Gimris’ good-natured beard-related heckling was also a constant.

From the fic itself:

A burly young Dwarf, not even seventy, was stacking wood for the braziers that would warm the night-watchmen. His bright red hair was pulled back into workman’s braids, his short beard thick on his cheeks and tied into two small braids that stuck out either side of his chin. His face was set and pale. “Glóin’s son,” he said in surprise.

“Aye,” said Frerin. “Did you forget him?”

(ch2)

And 

Mizim smiled at him, and threaded two golden beads onto the short tufting braids of his beard. “You look very handsome,” she told him.

“For a troll,” Gimrís added cheerfully.

“Gimrís!” Mizim snapped. Her daughter rolled her eyes.

(Ch3)

OH AND AND AND ALSOOOO

“Oh,” Frodo said, and he looked puzzled for a moment. “It seems so strange. I mean, sixty is passing middle-age for a Hobbit, and yet it’s only young to a Dwarf.”

Gimli smiled at him. “Very young. Your uncle met me a few years after the Quest, and no doubt he thought me a very raw and callous youth. Why, I could barely braid my beard properly, and it stuck out in two tufts! Terribly embarrassing. I’m glad none here saw it!”

(Ch11)

LASTLYYYYY

From Follow the Leader:

He bows his head, and then he looks up once more, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reaches up and unbinds his short beard before taking out his belt-knife and cutting three locks from it. Hair already dusts the feet of the three statues: some more will not make an appreciable difference. His bright red hair joins the others, to moulder away along with the bones of the honoured dead.

“You bloody sods,” he says, and then he laughs softly. The echoes laugh back: a thousand Gimlis are laughing at him. “My beard is long enough to braid now,” he says to the solemn face of Kíli. “No more tufts. How jealous you would be!”

SO yeah – the answer is yes, he had an awkward tufty time of it for a while.