Tag: headcanony things

I listened to your playlist and “In the Halls of the Mountain King” gave me the strongest Thorin feels ever. I know it’s supposed to be an Evil Baddie song, but for me it’s more a song of Thorin, as he could’ve been if he survived the battle: King of an unapologetically mighty kingdom under the mountain, where the most secretive of races of Middle Earth rises above the poverty and exile and thrives again under the firm kindness of their charismatic king. It’s about their culture: (1/2)

It’s about dancing, singing, building and creating and simply coming together to be one again. It’s a rich and strange and extraordinary culture of strong people. And I can see Thorin, in the middle of this celebration, tears in his eyes and smile on his lips, watching his people sing and play and dance again. And he’s so proud, if little overwhelmed, because he did it, he brought his people home again. Goddamnit Tolkien, that’s what we should’ve had. (2/2) 

Oh my god, whoa. WHOA. I am always honoured to hear the reactions people have to music, because they’re always so subjective and personal… and this is beautiful.

I mean, yeah i put it on the Evil Overlord’s Mixtape, bc it’s hella fun and thumpetty-thump! I would probably put it on a Dwarven Classical playlist as well, bc… well, Mountain King. And well, intellectually I know that it tells the story of Peer Gynt running away from a mountainful of pissed-off trolls…

(but I LIKE YOUR VERSION MUCH BETTER)

So Dis has lots of bad days on the many birthdays and death-days of her many relatives. Does she prefer to be alone on these times, or do her family and friends come in to distract her? (Dain totally would come and tell stories with her – with beer). Dwalin and Balin might come and sit with her for a while, enjoying some pipes.

Oh yes, Nonnie, she would have company. Though Dis often believes herself to be alone, she is by no means forgotten. 

Dori is always an unobtrusive presence, pouring tea and shifting the plate of biscuits closer to her hand. He knows, far better than most, how she feels. 

(She does something similar for him, on certain days.)

Dwalin plies her with far too much to drink, and they laugh and complain long into the night. He ends up snoring on her hearth, and she falls asleep in her grandmother’s armchair, and they both have terrible heads in the morning… but it’s worth it.

Dain brings beer and stories, definitely. He hums quietly under his breath, to make the place less empty. He’s quieter than usual, on those days… but now and then he brings something new, discovered in the moldering archives or in the tunnels. A letter written by her father. Her mother’s harp (desperately needing re-stringing). Her grandfather’s favourite worry-stone, the runes nearly worn smooth. The record of Frerin’s birth, and the list of songs and ceremonies that greeted his presentation.

That always hurts. But it’s a welcome hurt, and a dear one. She will cry when he brings her these things… but then he often does too, and that’s why. That’s why.

Balin doesn’t need to say a damn word. Balin can just look at her with those old, knowing eyes, and she can feel it sizzle in the air between them.

Mizim and Gloin invite her to their rooms, full of arguing and fondness and love. There, Dis will knead dough for the next day’s bread and bicker with Gloin, as Mizim fires off the occasional random snarky comment, and Gimli and Gimris squabble like Dwarflings of twenty. Then when the meal is ready, Gloin will clear his throat and raise a toast to the departed, and Dis will not answer, only hold her glass high. 

Later, Gimli will rest his head upon her knee, and she will comb out his hair with slow, soft motions. Her fingers linger in that mass of blood red, soft and thick, as coarse as Fili’s ever was. Not Kili’s, though. Kili’s was smoother. 

(She knows he doesn’t care to have his hair fussed with. She knows that not even his mother is permitted this.)

Hi! Sorry to bother, but I got my wisdom teeth removed this morning and could use some cheering up. Could I have some Custard fluffs, please? I love her so much and she reminds me of my own lil kitten.

Custard stretched a bit, and then rolled over to show the fluffy white underside of her belly. Her paws kneaded at the air, and she gave her current skritch-giver a slit-eyed look of feline bliss.

“Don’t,” said Best Dwarf, without looking up from the fiddly shiny thing he was working on.

(Custard loved the fiddly shiny things. They made the best skittering noises as she batted them over the stone floors. But Best Dwarf was more important, and he would get upset if she lost pieces. And so Custard refrained.

Keeping Best Dwarf happy was the most important thing there was… apart from skritches and dinner.)

Current skritch-giver blinked, and then peered up at Best Dwarf. “Don’t? Don’t what, adad?”

“Don’t touch her belly,” advised Best Dwarf, and he flipped his eye-glass away from his one good eye and gave skritch-giver a warning look. “You’ll get clawed if you do.”

Skritch-giver looked back down at her, sprawled bonelessly over his lap. She rubbed her head upon his hand, which had gone lax and lazy and was neglecting the urgent business of petting her. “She’s showing it to me… doesn’t she want a belly-rub?”

Best Dwarf snorted. “No. She’s happy and relaxed about the patting you’re giving her, Thorin. Touch her belly, and those soft little paws that have been harmlessly pushing at the air? Will snap shut around your hand like a bear-trap. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Skritch-giver (who was the one with the excellent braids, nice and swingy and good to bat at) wrinkled his nose. “But she seems so peaceful.”

Best Dwarf rolled his eye. “Don’t be fooled. And don’t give in to the temptation to rub your face against all that fluff. For a start, face-scratches sting like a bastard. And secondly, you’ll be combing orange fur away from your beard for a whole afternoon.”

Skritch-giver grunted, and went back to rubbing beneath Custard’s chin. Much better. She let him know she approved by purring at double the volume. Her forelegs stretched high, her back arching ever so slightly, as she leaned into the new patting.

Then he –

“Ouch! Ah, ow, ah…”

“Told you so,” said Best Dwarf, grinning. “Custard, no sweetheart. Thorin, inudoy, you never did learn to listen to warnings. Come, go wash that hand.”

Custard leaped down from Skritcher’s knee, satisfied that he had learned his lesson. She twined around Best Dwarf’s legs for a moment, before tipping back her head and letting out her most innocent, ‘mrow?’

“You menace,” said Best Dwarf, smiling down and running an affectionate finger around her ear and beneath her chin. “Come on, beartrap. Time for dinner.”

Can I just say I really love the fact that Narvimbor’s relationship is undefined? Cause speaking as an aro girl who has a very similar platonic relationship irl, I think I get exactly where Narvi is coming from when she considers the relationship indefinable. Like, it doesn’t really fit what other people would classify as ‘just-friendship’ (a term I hate cause there’s nothing ‘just’ about friendship) but it isn’t romantic either? Love shouldn’t be interpreted as romantic by default after all. :)

😉 It’s totally undefinable, and I will never confirm whether it is platonic, romantic, physical or otherwise… because Mahal knows NARVI never ever ever would.

So it is completely open to all interpretation… and every single one is valid!

So Dain Ironfoot always does inspections as part of his duties as King, and one of his absolute favorite things is visiting schools. Because all the little kids. Some of them are nervous around him but more are excited because he’s really nice and cheerful. Sometimes he will sit in one of the kid desks and listen to their lessons. Once he dragged Dis with him and the teacher was angry because they were passing notes.

oh sweet merciful crumpets

this is perfect i love it so much

OF COURSE THEY WERE PASSING NOTES. And Dain would probably end up in the naughty corner for calling-out. 

Dis, of course, doesn’t get caught 🙂

Just wondering, what was Narvi’s relationship with Celebrimbor? I’ve never read the Silmarillion so before I read Sansukh I always assumed it was just a working/colleague friendship. That’s obviously wrong, but now I read it to be more like Kili and Tauriel or Legolas and Gimli. Could you possibly clarify?

Hey Nonnie!

Well, in canon it’s not presumed to be anything, really. As you say, it’s most likely a working relationship.

In Sansukh, they are very close. But it isn’t known what the nature of their relationship was. I am not confirming whether it was platonic, romantic, or whatever.

This is quite deliberate, and I am doing it because this is how Narvi is (or at least, my version of Narvi). It’s a conscious character choice. She is something of an enigma, and she does NOT talk. About things. That hurt her. She holds things close and tight. She keeps her secrets.

Check out this answer in particular, and also my Narvi tag for more!

This is quite a point of difference between her and all these other focus Dwarves, whose personal lives end up splashed all over the walls. Narvi could not bear such a thing. GOD no.

The closest she has ever been in the whole story to letting out anything personal is in Chapters 32 and 36… and each time it’s only one line.

Chapter 32

“I’ve seen good, innocent, true-hearted people hardened by the world,” Narvi said, and her eyes were dark and glittered strangely as she watched Pippin. “I’ve seen naivety punished and gentleness broken. It’s not a new tale.”

..

Chapter 36

Gróin and Fundin were, for once, sad-faced and silent: not a single bickering line passed their lips. Haban was tight-lipped. Narvi’s eyes were full of ancient rage and hatred, her hands clenched by her sides.

“There is nothing I would not do,” she began in a voice that shook with fury. Then she checked herself and stalked away.

“What-” Fundin said, scratching the back of his head, but Haban held up a swift hand.

“There’s not a single one of us,” she said quietly, “who can even come close to hating Sauron as much as Narvi does.”

…

So yeah, the relationship is never going to be defined. I am fairly sure that for Narvi, it would be indefinable anyway.

Gimizh has a being-a-relative-to-school event, and is in a tizzy about who to bring. His mum or dad? Uncle Gimli? His grandpa or grandma? Aunt Dis? (He thought better of taking Dis because she was maybe a little sad around a lot of kids, especially since his seat-mate is blond.) eventually he takes Gloin, and talks about how great his grandpa is and how he helps Gimizh read big words and reach high stuff. And play games and snuggle and stories. And he can count real high in his head. Gloin is <3

AWWWWWWW That is ADORABLE

I can imagine Gimizh being all, 😀 “See! I TOLD YOU MY GRANDPA HAD A BIGGER BEARD THAN YOUR GRANDPA! Oh yeah, and he did that Quest thingy that one time.”