Tag: mental illness tw

Does Thorin know about the guilt Thror feels about everything?

Oh yes. He sure does. In fact, it is one of the first things he hears when waking up in the Halls:

“Oh, it’s Thrór all over again, someone stop him,” groaned Frís. “We’re going to drown in the combined guilt of the Line of Durin before we ever lay a stone of Arda Remade.”

Thorin knows about it, even though he doesn’t agree with it.

His grandfather was a great Dwarf, who rebuilt the abandoned Erebor and made her glorious and strong and celebrated in song all over the North. That is still true, will always be true.

Why should his grandfather be held responsible for matters entirely outside his control? For the actions of a dragon?* Why should he continue to punish himself endlessly for things he could not prevent? 

Then Thorin would warm to his subject, no doubt, his voice growing stronger and full of conviction. Why is it Thror’s fault that he was sick? After all, nobody is told ‘your physical illness is entirely of your own doing, and you welcomed it into your body’. Why should Thror be treated differently for an illness of the mind?

Thorin can’t see the irony in this attitude until a great deal later 😉

*don’t get me started on people blaming Dwarves for the violence of other INTELLIGENT creatures (*coughsSMAUG AND THE BALROGcough*)

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.)

Do dwarves ever feel bad if their personalities are more pessimistic and less cheerful like how the Broadbeams are? Idk I know a lot of people find Thorin’s struggle relatable but I am so not down with another portrayal where the mentally ill character is tragic and brings everyone down because of their general disposition. That’s the vibe I get off him, this general black hole of despair.

I’m sorry to hear that. 

I don’t know – This is such a pessimistic, one-dimensional and bleak assessment? You are absolutely entitled to your opinion, but I entirely disagree. I believe that Thorin in fact gets some of the very funniest moments, and can show levity, affection and selflessness even when he is in distress. He is an ENDLESS fount of comfort for Frerin, and shows more consideration for his mother, brother’s, Gimli’s, Fili’s and Kili’s and Bilbo’s feelings than for his own. He is unhappy at times, yes. But that’s not all he is.

Mental illness has nothing to do with it. He is winning. He is learning to manage himself, he is a success story, not a tragedy.

He is comforting. He builds people up. He grows, he learns, he fixes his mistakes. His family support him, certainly – but he supports THEM right back. Fili, Kili, Frerin, Fris, Thrain, Thror, even Hrera – he gives every single one of them comfort and help and love. He is not a drain of love, sucking their support and energy away. He is a rock for them: they follow his lead. 

And yeah, he is funny.

For example: actual lines Thorin says in the fic, from Chapter 33:

Around him, the star-lined figures of Dwarves came fading into the gloom, and Frerin pushed through them to stand stock-still beside Thorin at the sight before them. “Thorin!” he said in dismay.

“I have kept my temper,” Thorin told him, fighting the twitching of his lips.

“What have you done?”

“What should have been done in Edoras,” Thorin said, and he threw a companionable arm around his little brother. “You know, these darksome unwholesome holes might actually become a favourite place of mine?”

“You are not funny,” snapped Frerin.

“I am hilarious,” said Thorin, perfectly straight-faced.

(from Chapter 35)

And then the Dwarf, evidently rather embarrassed by his recalcitrant mop, grabbed the brush from the dresser. The dresser that Bilbo was seated upon. His hand passed straight through the Hobbit’s leg!

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot back up to his hairline, and he could feel his face falling into its most Baggins expression as Thorin slowly turned back to look at him. “Again, my apologies,” he managed.

“You are not making a terribly good fist of this, are you,” Bilbo said, and it was not a question. Thorin winced, making no effort to hide it, and he sat back upon his pallet and fiddled with the brush in his hands.

“Apparently not,” he said ruefully.

(from Chapter 25)

“I am working, ‘amad!” he said, and Thorin settled back, folding his arms, to watch the show. “It is Frís’ name-day soon, and…”

“Oh, that is sweet, darling, but do try to remember that you have a mother,” she said, and pulled at the vast braids of Thráin’s beard. “Tsk. Shocking. Look at what you have done, you smell like a foundry and you look like a highland sheep! Thorin, don’t you start smirking over there, my lad, your hair is a disgrace.”

“Grandmother!” Thorin protested, and resigned himself to being forever twenty-four in her eyes and no older. It was infuriating.

“Best not to fight it, inùdoy,” sighed Thráin as Hrera began to comb out his working-braids, muttering to herself all the while.

“I learned that lesson long ago,” Thorin agreed solemnly, and jerked as Hrera pinched his elbow with her long, silver-tipped nails.

“Pair of upstarts,” she huffed. “Wait there for your turn. I won’t have my family looking like a bunch of ruffians. Longbeards! What are you like!” she exclaimed, and gave Thráin’s hair a particularly vicious combing. His eye twitched.

When they finally escaped, Thráin’s hair had been smoothed back into a neat barrel plait, and his beard had been worked into two intricate weaves that fell either side of his great deep chest. Thorin’s hair had been pulled up and given a thorough oiling (“Just look at this! Disgraceful!”) and then Hrera had spent quite some time lamenting the spray of grey at his hairline before weaving a thick braid from the top of his head to hang down his spine, leaving only his side-braids to hand before his ears.

Thráin and Thorin looked at each other. “I won’t laugh if you won’t,” Thráin said with the utmost solemnity.

“These terms are acceptable,” Thorin returned gravely, and then they carefully avoided looking at each others’ face for the next ten minutes.

They finally found Thrór in the dining hall, though his head was bent over a piece of paper and no food was to hand, only a jug of ale.

(from Chapter 13)

“What?” cried Gimli, shocked out of his silent contemplation of the ruin of Khazad-dûm, stately and beautiful even in decay. “That was a kingly gift!”

Thorin fought the urge to squirm under the sudden attention of three dead Dwarves and a Wizard.

“Yes,” said Gandalf, smiling. “I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the whole Shire and everything in it.”

“You can all stop looking at me now,” Thorin growled.

“Aye, leave him alone,” Balin said, trying and failing to keep the amusement from his voice. “He’ll be as cross as a bear with a sore paw otherwise.”

“You mean he can be otherwise?” sniggered Óin, and he ducked as Thorin swiped at him with a fist. “Ah, too slow, my King. Do I get a pretty mithril prize?”

(again – chapter 25)

Thorin shrugged off the clinging starlight, and held up his arm. “Here, namadul, lean on me.”

Kíli looked up with startled, red-rimmed eyes and nearly fell off the hillock he was perched on. “Oh my Maker,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “You scared the life out of me!” Then he pulled a face. “Well, when I say life…”

Thorin’s lips twitched. “Most droll. Come, you look dreadful.”

There are lots lots LOTS more – which you will discover, should you read the story. 

As to the question, “do dwarves ever feel bad if their personalities are more pessimistic and less cheerful etc.” I don’t think you really wanted an answer to this. 

A long time ago when you answered an ask about how Thorin’s family would react to Bilbo and you mentioned Bilbo seeing one of Thrain’s bad days and the two of them talking and understanding what Rings of Power do got me thinking. Does Bilbo ever have bad days? Not on the level of Thrain or Thror but still, the Ring’s gotta have messed him up a bit (plus what like 70 years of isolation on top of that)? What would a baddish day for Bilbo be like (and how would Thorin deal with it)?

(Here is that post, for the curious).

Oh yes, Bilbo had bad days.

Not on the level of Thrain, no. Thrain has terrible, terrible dissociation issues, the aftermath of physical and psychological torture. He’s so strong, though. He’s healing. And he is, first and foremost, there for his family – just as they are for him. 

The way I am writing the Ring, it remains mostly dormant during its stay with Bilbo. It grows in power as Sauron’s strength waxes. Even though it is not at full strength, it is still a huge weight to carry and a massive distortion upon Bilbo’s life – particularly because Bilbo carried it for so, so long. 

It increased his life-span, yes. But I also think it increased his secrecy, to the point of paranoia almost. Anxiety, reclusiveness, obsessiveness, suspicion. I think these would have been linked to the Ring’s influence on Bilbo. 

Anger is also inextricably linked to the Ring – it delights in discord. The older Bilbo gets, the more snappish he gets. I think he would have moments of inexplicable anger. At Thorin for dying, at himself, at nothing in particular – and everything. When they pass, he would be drained and sad.

I think Thorin would try and be heard by Bilbo in those moments. I think Thorin would desperately call to his Hobbit, pleading with him, hoping that the inconstant blessing of his Gift would help him break through. 

I just realized something: Thror’s father and brother died to a cold-drake. CAN YOU IMAGINE the psychological effect when he came out of the gold-madness post-Smaug and realized that HIS BELOVED WIFE AND SISTER-IN-LAW, NOT TO MENTION COUNTLESS OTHERS, are now dead? And that he will think it’s HIS FAULT?! And then he gets to WATCH his son and grandson try to reclaim his homeland and DIE for it?! And he gets to see his sweet little baby Thorin lose his mind TOO? (Dammit, now I’ve made myself cry.)

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WHY DOES THE WORLD HATE THE LINE OF DURIN OH MY FUCKING GOD