Tag: dwarves

I am imagining Hrera and Forra bonding over tea. Because Forra is a tea person. So many embarrassing-baby-Thror stories were told in the years after Hrera entered the Halls. Also Dain 1 might like fiddle knitting? And so Thrain has a cuddly blanket his grandpa made him. And (durin-blue) socks to help keep him warm ;)

OH MY GOODNESS HAHAHAHA

I just realised I have never given anyone anything about Forra! And I like her so much ❤

Forra is a heck of a Dwarrowdam. She was poor. Very poor. Bombur-and-Bofur poor, in fact. The kind of poor that never really lets go of a person. She instilled a little of that urgency in all of her children, actually – she didn’t mean to, but that kind of thing bleeds through and children are perceptive. She was probably the most earthy Queen the Dwarves have ever had. She looked like a mine full of diamonds all dressed in her full regalia, of course – but wouldn’t hesitate to roll up her dazzling sleeves and hitch up her jewel-studded skirts (and tuck them into her drawers!) to help birth a litter of piglets, or help an old Dwarf with their washing, soap-suds soaking her arms to the elbows and staining the silk.

The conservative element that so protested Dis’ marriage to Vili had not yet arisen. That was more a matter of timing, than anything. After three exiles from as many homes, the newly-homeless Council in Ered Luin were clinging even more tightly to very rigid tradition, trying desperately to hold onto a sense of continuity in the face of disaster. 

In Forra’s day, however, things were somewhat more relaxed. 

Dain I met her utterly by accident, while he pretended to be someone else (a habit of his). It wasn’t too hard to figure out who ‘Danin’ really was, though. Forra played along, though she had to shake her head at times. I mean really. It was blindingly obvious that this Dwarf didn’t know a damned thing about living in the poorer quarters of the Grey Mountains. 

She swears like a trooper, Forra. She doesn’t have an elegant bone in her body. She will kick anyone’s arse – heck, she’ll kick her own arse. And absolutely, Forra would definitely drink tea! Hot, sweet tea please, with plenty of milk. And she’ll have it in a battered old tin tankard. 😉

Hrera would have been utterly dismayed by her at first. And then she would have recognised that for all their external differences, they are very very alike. Forra just wears a very different sort of armour.

And so Hrera would sip tea from her porcelain cup, and Forra from her tankard, and they would chat amicably (and Hrera would ignore all the swearing, and Forra would ignore all the prim fussing). Because as different as they seem? Here’s a Dwarrowdam who gets it.

I love the idea that Dain I was a knitter! I bet none of his three kids ever got cold tootsies. ❤

How do you calculate the dwarves ages? It always stumps me when I’m trying to write anything to do with them (although hobbits and elves aren’t much easier), but I don’t want to mess it up.

Ohboy, do you mean in comparison to the ages of humans? Because there is no commonly accepted comparison for Dwarven aging. Tolkien never really gives us a decisive answer! 

So, I have written about this before, and explained how I am using their ages in Sansukh. But there isn’t really a ‘right’ or a ‘wrong’ way. This is only the way *I* am doing it. Other people may have different ideas!

(Short answer = I am making it so that Dwarves ‘come of age’ at 70, but may be physically mature – if not mentally – much earlier. They have an extended period of vigorous adulthood which lasts a great deal longer than that of Men. They are very enduring and tough, and do not become frail in their old age as do other races. Then they most probably crumble quite swiftly at the end of their lifespan – at approximately 250-270 years.)

What were the company’s families thinking, watching the quest? Were Fundin and Groin arguing over whose sons were better at killing goblins? Zhori wishing she could knock Dori and Nori’s heads together? I imagine it could have been a very frustrating experience, watching that journey.

Yes, VERY frustrating, Nonnie! It’d take too long to cover absolutely everything – there are a lot of moments during the quest that would affect different parents more than others, for example, and to detail them all would be exhausting. So here’s some brief overviews of how they acted for the majority of the time.

Fundin and Groin TOTALLY argued. Fundin and Groin ALWAYS argue. Unless someone attacks them/their loved ones. Then they turn it all onto that person like a spotlight, hahaha! BETTER RUN, THE SONS OF FARIN ARE COMING.

(aaaaand Fundin won that particular time. Well, it’s Dwalin. Awesome as Oin and Gloin are, Dwalin is sorta a one-Dwarf army!)

Dweris and Haban watched their boys with approval. And their husbands with exasperation. Who were the children here? URGH.

Zhori watched with annoyance, mostly, her lips pursed. Silly boys. And who is doing Ori’s hair these days, tcch. He looks like a mushroom!

Genna and Bomfur were very proud. Their lads were doing a good thing. (though Genna worries a bit). And they passed the time by commenting on everything and making off-colour jokes.

Nain and Daeris were tense. Oh dear Mahal, no. Not another battle, not another bloody summons. Family reunions are not exactly that family’s forte.

Bomris was quiet and worried, her hands wringing. Kifur was hopeful, and tried to reassure her.

Vili watched with a mixture of pride, irritation, and desperate concern. Pair of little terrors. Good shot, that’s my boy! OH, you pair of ragamuffins. Oooh, nice move. Your mother would skin you for that! No – no, pay attention to – oh, now you’ve done it. Stop being so much like me and keep your mind on the job, are you trying to get yourself killed?

Thrain and Fris, of course, worried constantly. But under that worry lay a tiny thread of desperate hope: will Thorin succeed where we all failed?

lacefedora:

Dis training Ereborians in the sword to prepare for battle.

This has been such fun to work on. Completely colored and detailed by hair with Copic markers. Colors tweeked in photoshop to compensate for my lousy scanner. (for detail please go look at the full view)

I had the thought that maybe as she got older her hair did the opposite thing than Thorin’s; Her hair becoming silver with little streaks of black left in it. That has to be the most awkward sword hold in creation. I am so sorry. Information on each mourning marks and beads is going under the cut because it’s the exact same thing I put on the lineart.

Keep reading

oh my GOODNESS. THAT BLUE.

Lace!!! AHHHHHHHHH *divebombs at you and clings like a homesick koala* THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. Her tatts! GREY HAIR YUS. I love those streaks of black in her hairline! And the bitter lines of mouth and brow, arrrrrgh oh DIS. 

*hugs you some more* THANK YOU.

May I ask you a question? I love your dwarrowdams, they’re all awesome! But what do you think of the idea that at least some of the company were female? Bilbo was a hobbit, after all, and dwarrowdams look different than female hobbits would. And, although the story is in third person, it is vaguely from Bilbo’s perspective. So, do you think that some of the company could be female, masquerading as male while on the road for various reasons, and Bilbo just didn’t realize?

Hi Nonnie!

I do enjoy that idea. I haven’t used it, obviously, but it is one that I like a lot. I know that Tolkien said something along the lines of keeping the female Dwarves in the Mountains etc, but my own prejudices and inclinations don’t much line up with that! It seems oppressive and isolating and controlling to me. I dislike the total invisibility of anything other than the male Dwarves, so I made my horde of Dwarrowdams. But I do also enjoy stories where one or more of the Company is female, be they cis, trans or other.

I particularly like the idea that perhaps Dwarves have a different concept of gender and gender identity than the other races. dain-mothafocka​ has some truly awesome ideas on Orocarni dwarf gender. Tolkien DOES say that female Dwarves are basically indistinguishable from the boys, too. So I think – why not? Bilbo wouldn’t have been able to tell just by looking at them, their culture is not his (and tbh, unless they say so explicitly to him, it’s not his business).

(I see Ori or Kili written as female most often: myself, I would LOVE to see more AUs where it is Gloin and/or Bifur. Mama Bear and badass berserker vegetarian, yes please!)

do you think some dwarves find love, even their Ones, after they’ve died, instead of while they were alive? or is finding your One something you can only do while still alive?

Hey Nonnie!

Oh, I have answered something very like this, somewhere back in the mists of time! Yes, however, is the short answer. Dwarves can indeed fall in love in the Halls.

However, the huge inertia of death – that changelessness and eternal nature of the place itself – really weighs upon everybody there. It takes a long, long time for any change to really eventuate (example A: Thorin’s journey of healing and self-knowledge). 

and that’s taking into account the nature of Dwarves themselves: “stubborn and slow to change” is right!

However, I can point to two Dwarves who fell in love after their deaths. Bifur has been dead for nearly 70 years, and Ori has been dead for close to twenty. They were good friends before Bifur died: Ori helped Bifur regain some of his powers of communication after the catastrophic reopening of his head-wound. 

But it is only after Ori arrived that they have found a new understanding. I am writing Bifur as demisexual (i.e. he only feels desire after a strong emotional bond has already been established). They grew closer over time, due to their shared experiences and their already strong friendship, and further still over the course of their watching-duties. They bring out very good things in each other: Ori can be strong for Bifur, he can be the carer, rather than the caree. He can be the protector too: Bifur often needs help still. And for Ori, Bifur can bring out his gentler side, and his endless patience (particularly handy when Ori is stressed over so many schedule changes!).

So, there’s my ideas! I hope you like them, Nonnie 🙂

Hi :) Um, I sent an ask a few days ago, but my internet was on the fritz (fixed now though, yay!) so I’m not sure if it went through. It was about Hrera, and how you think she reacted as Thror started slowly being claimed by the gold madness? Also, I’m sorry for the hate you got. That’s one reason I worry so much about posting fanfics, the haters. You handled it really gracefully, though.

Hey Nonnie!

No sorry, I didn’t get it! Thank you for re-sending, hoo boy, that’s a tough question.

I think? That it was not a fast change, as with Thorin in BOTFA. I think that the obsession came upon Thror slowly, creeping over him bit by bit (and always urged on by that terrible and insidious force he carried upon his finger.) It would have been a very gradual change, over years and years. And many, not even those closest to Thror, could have pinpointed when it really began.

Hrera has pride that you can break diamonds upon. And so when she recognised that Thror was acting a little unlike himself now and then, she held her head high and continued on. He was still affectionate with her, he still played with his grandchildren and kissed her each morning and sat obediently to have his hair and beard braided. So it couldn’t be that serious, surely.

Perhaps he was simply stressed. He had been King for a very long time. Hrera made an effort to lift his workload.

To her unhappy surprise, he spent what little time she managed to buy him in the treasury.

Others began to give the King worried looks. But Hrera stared them down, and made a redoubled effort to bring Thror’s attention back to where it had always firmly been: with his family and people.

To her absolute dismay, the change in his behaviour wasn’t even precipitated by some random greediness. He would mumble about his wandering childhood, about protection and security. “We need enough to keep us all fed,” he would say, “from the smallest child to the eldest greybeard! Thranduil’s arrogance is endless, as is his jealousy. He only wishes us ill: he knows nothing of what we have endured. We will never be powerless again!”

It was with a sinking horror that Hrera realised that the dragon’s illness had gained a foothold in her husband through one of his most laudable traits: his love of his people.

He could still be drawn out by little Dis now and then, or by Thrain. He still sat and had his hair braided every morning. But his eyes travelled to the Arkenstone when he should have been paying attention to the day’s business, and his hand clenched and unclenched upon the arm of the throne as the anxiety and urgency washed over him in huge waves.

By that time, whispers circulated everywhere. Hrera made a mammoth effort to protect her family, particularly her youngest grandchildren, from being affected. But Thorin, who was older, noticed. Thorin saw everything, and heard the unkindest whispers.

Hrera was still Hrera, however. She lifted her chin, and carried on.

(and reached for the cold side of their bed every night, longing for Thror to come back from that golden gleam to see the love and fear and worry in her eyes.)