Tag: dwarves

evil-bones-mccoy:

tonight on all your faves are Jewish:

surprise! all of the dwarves of Middle-earth! especially the Longbeards!

because believe it or not Tolkien constructed Khuzdul as a Semitic language! and maybe we might not have been reading the same story but i definitely picked up a whole ‘covenant with the Maker’ thing and a ‘communities in diaspora’ thing especially with the Durin’s Folk narrative like come on

Do you have any Sansukh dwarf piercing headcanons? Like, about specific dwarves, or what different social/cultural groups might have. (mental image of all the inter-cultural groups discovering different piercing stuff. Hrera is SO DONE. )

Ooooh, I’ve written something about this before, Nonnie! I really like the fanon idea of having braids and dyes and piercings and tattoos to declare different things about the individual Dwarf (or not, as they prefer). 

I really, REALLY like the whole body-mod Dwarves thing 🙂

So angsty moment … Dain is now in the Halls … does he have flashbacks for the first little while spending time with his dad about how his dad died?

It takes him by surprise on occasion.

It’s an awkward and slow process, relearning how to be someone’s son, someone’s child. Dain doesn’t always remember that he has that support, and he often forges ahead alone, independent and stubborn, as he has done for over two hundred years. 

It takes a whispered word in his ear from Fris, of all people, for Dain to look behind him and see the love and hesitant hope in his parents’ eyes.

Daeris loves to braid his hair, so unlike her own. She hums as she sits him down and brushes it and brushes it until it gleams like polished copper, and then she carefully braids it back into his accustomed style. When he bends to kiss her whiskery cheek in thanks, he is struck by the memory of her blood splashed across her face, pooling upon skin that already turned waxy and loose in death.

He swallows down the sudden surge of bile and squeezes her hands. “Thank you, Amad,” he says, and tries to wipe the image from his mind.

Nain walks upon winged feet these days, nearly exploding from pride for his mighty son. He often just beams at Dain, his face softening and creasing in astonishment and joy, and when Dain rolls his eyes Nain will shrug and laugh and say that it is his right to be a foolish old man. Besides, is Dain any better when it comes to his own boy?

That’s different, Dain will sniff, and Nain will chuckle. It is a little stilted, a little forced. Their affection does not come naturally, not yet – but it feels as though one day it could.

It is when Nain turns to one side to talk to someone, or when he flops down into a chair – hells, even when he stretches – that the terrible memory resurfaces. That angle of his head. It is only the angle of his head, Dain tells himself sternly, and washes his face and stares into his own eyes in the mirror. They look bruised.

His head had wrenched to the side, lolling and loose, the angle obscene and stomach-twisting to see. A grotesque parody, a broken doll. The sturdy Iron Hills mail he wore protected him from being decapitated… but it could not stop his spine from snapping beneath Azog’s powerful hands. 

The angle of his head…

Dain splashes more water onto his face and grips the edge of the water-basin tightly. You are no longer that scared and angry child, he tells himself, and tries to force his knees to cooperate. He feels light-headed. You are safe now, protected from all evil, and Mahal himself watches over us. You are safe. Nain is safe. Daeris is safe. The last scion of Azog’s line is dead, and your family is safe.

And he steps back out to smile and laugh with his father, to let his mother brush and bind his hair, and he forges ahead. Independent as always, enduring what he must. In time, the flashbacks will subside. Not yet. Not yet. There is always the angle of Nain’s head.

But Dain hopes so, nevertheless. It feels as though one day they could.

LMAO what a thing to return to

I just got a rather awful anon ask from someone who says they have just gone through my blog and that I am ‘deluded and pathetic’ for a) shipping Gigolas, and b) liking the Iron Hills Dwarves, who are all racists and greedy.

As I have already said a hell of a lot about WHY I ship Gigolas (hahaha is 70 pages enough do you suppose) I am not even gonna go there. Ship-shaming is weak and stupid. As to the rest…well, rather than inflicting this negativity and nastiness upon all you nice people, I decided to simply block the troll, and then do something positive instead! 

So, here it is – 

SIX (ABRIDGED) REASONS WHY I LOVE THE IRON HILLS DWARVES

1. They are a settlement of refugees.

Right well, the Iron Hills have been mined by the Longbeards for centuries, but in actual fact the current settlement in the Iron Hills isn’t all that old. It was established in 2589 by the refugees of the Grey Mountains, who were fleeing a dragon (an ice-worm). They were led by Gror, Thror’s younger brother. 

(incidentally, the Dwarves of the Grey Mountains were themselves refugees, having fled to that place after Moria fell. And some significant part of Moria’s population were also refugees from the Broadbeam and Firebeard cities! SO MANY DIFFERENT CULTURES ALL SMOOSHED TOGETHER, SO MANY TIMES THE DWARVES HAD TO FLEE)

So at the exact same time when Thror went to re-establish Erebor (2589), his little bro was setting up shop (with the majority of the refugees) in the much MUCH poorer Iron Hills. 

After Smaug came to Erebor (2770), most of the survivors pour into the Iron Hills. Yes, they take the refugees in. We can only speculate as to why a small number of noble Dwarves wanted to move on to the Blue Mountains (pride, maybe?).

2. They keep going to the aid of others

Not even one generation passes before Thror is calling for them to uproot themselves and come to Khazad-dum (2799). They’re expected to throw their lives away after they’ve found some small measure of stability, all for a dangerous and orc- (and balrog, but nobody knew that at the time) infested place. 

They turn the tide of the War of Orcs and Dwarves. No really, they do. They die by the thousands (HALF the Dwarves died in that war!), they lose their leader, Gror’s son Nain, who is slaughtered on the steps of Khazad-dum. His son, the APPALLINGLY young Dain Ironfoot (32 years old) sees it all happen with his own eyes.

The survivors limp back home once again. Maybe this time they’ll get to stay.

Then in 2941 Thorin calls for aid at Erebor via raven, and off they go again. 

3. They are not wealthy.

Though the Hills are rich in Iron (and they stand at the natural junction for trade-routes between Rhun and the West), the Iron Hills never became as insanely, ridiculously, fabulously rich as their noble cousins. They’re miners first and foremost, and they seem to just stay out of drama and keep their heads down until some bugger calls them out to die (again). 

4. They’re sensible.

In the books, Thorin never petitions the Iron Hills to help him retake Erebor before the Quest. The first they ever hear of it is Thorin’s raven, requesting them to come fight two armies of Elves and Men. Yaaaay. 

It’s often not mentioned that the vast VAST majority of all Dwarves – including those in the Blue Mountains – also refuse to accompany Thorin. In fact, it’s strongly suggested that Thorin is making this journey a secret, to avoid alerting the same forces that thwarted his father (who disappeared doing the exact same thing, after all).

But leaving the movie-changes aside, it’s worth looking at this exchange from the LOTR appendices:

When at last the battle was won the Dwarves that were left gathered in Azanulbizar. They took the head of Azog and thrust into its mouth the purse of small money, and then they set it on a stake. But no feast nor song was there that night; for their dead were beyond the count of grief. Barely half of their number, it is said, could still stand or had hope of healing.
None the less in the morning Thrain stood before them. He had one eye blinded beyond cure, and he was halt with a leg-wound; but he said:
‘Good! We have the victory. Khazad-dum is ours!’
But they answered: ‘Durin’s Heir you may be, but even with one eye you should see clearer. We fought this war for vengeance, and vengeance we have taken. But it is not sweet. If this is victory, then our hands are too small to hold it.’
And those who were not of Durin’s Folk said also: ‘Khazad-dum was not our Fathers’ house. What is it to us, unless a hope of treasure? But now, if we must go without the rewards and the weregilds that are owed to us, the sooner we return to our own lands the better pleased we shall be.’
Then Thrain turned to Dain, and said: ‘But surely my own kin will not desert me?’ ‘No,’ said Dain. ‘You are the father of our Folk, and we have bled for you, and will again. But we will not enter Khazad-dum. You will not enter Khazad-dum. Only I have looked through the shadow of the Gate. Beyond the shadow it waits for you still: Durin’s Bane. The world must change and some other power than ours must come before Durin’s Folk walk again in Moria.’

So, it’s worth recalling that in this moment, Dain 

  • has just lost his father, killed in front of his eyes
  • Just slew Azog.
  • saw something terrible through the doors of Khazad-dum
  • Is speaking to his King. He just shut his KING DOWN. 
  • IS 32 YEARS OLD. THAT IS YOUNGER THAN I AM NOW. and he has more sense in his little toe than I do in my entire BODY.

5. They would be familiar with the people/s of Rhun

Check out the map. The Iron Hills are about as far East as you can get without being in Rhun already… in fact, they are closer to Rhun than they are to any point in Rhovanion. They’re the logical trade-route for anyone wishing to move between the Eastern nations and the West. I like to think that there is a huge and civil cultural exchange between the Iron Hills Dwarves and the Dwarves of the Orocarni, resulting in a melting-pot of customs and the flourishing of new ideas and music and art and technology. 

I mean, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills would have already been a cultural blend of Longbeard, Firebeard and Broadbeam (fyi: Firebeards and Broadbeams both assimilated into Longbeard society in Khazad-dum, after their own cities were destroyed in the War of Wrath) … but only in that one place in all the world could you commonly find Dwarves of all seven clans living and sharing and trading and marrying harmoniously. I like that idea. I like it a lot. 

this is also the reason why i cannot ever hc the Iron Hills Dwarves as racist.

6. They RIDE. PIGS. 

‘Nuff said. 

So thank you, dear nasty haternon.. I am now even more determined to love Iron Hills Dwarves, to love their darling fuzzy faces in spite of your clumsy attempt to get me all riled up 🙂 I am doubly inspired to write about their awesomeness and loyalty and loss in the face of such spite. Perhaps I shall write some more music! 

In conclusion, the Iron Hills for Me. 

(also also – Gigolas is the ship that literally sails itself into the West, so bleh to you with a cherry on top.)