The thing that gets me about the elves supposedly being vegetarian/vegan is that they have leather armour, or they have leather as part of their armour. (Thranduil’s people have leather armour)
That leather had to come from somewhere, and I doubt it was a human, or a dwarf, or an orc, or a hobbit, or another elf. So, where did that leather come from?
And if the elves don’t eat meat, but they use the leather from the animals, then that means they’re taking the animal hides and leaving everything else untouched. Which I think would be a dishonour as far as the elves were concerned. They’re killing these animals just to take their hides, they’re not even killing them for food.
If the elves won’t even eat meat because they don’t stand by the killing of animals, then they wouldn’t wear leather either, for the same reason. But they wear leather, so it stands to reason they’d eat meat as well. I’ve always just thought it was a normal thing for them to eat meat. And that as far as killing animals goes, they’ll have some sort of tradition where they give thanks to the animal for giving its life, and they treat the carcass with as much respect as can be given.
But also, before anyone argues. Canon says no.
“
There was a fire in their midst and there were torches fastened to some of the trees round about; but the most splendid sight of all: they were eating and drinking and laughing merrily. The smell of the roast meats was so enchanting that, without waiting to consult one another, every one of them got up and scrambled forwards into the ring with the one idea of begging some food.
“
Taken from the Hobbit, chapter Flies and Spiders.
Guys. The Elves aren’t vegetarian/Vegan. They eat meat. Guys. They eat meat.
Honestly my family and I think the vegetarian elf thing came from someone confusing them with Vulcans a while back! Is there anything to actually support that?
I guessed that I’ve reblogged some things about the question long time before, @gaysilmarils and @thranduilland, but the point is that, basically, the whole ‘elves are vegeterians’ is an huge invention of the movies, and it’s pretty inaccurate/ ignoring an huge part of the legendarium, because
1) Tolkien specified that Beren didn’t eat any meat or animal in Silm. Chapter XIX, Of Beren and Luthien. He is usually very accurate with this kind of informations, if elves were vegetarians, he could have told us so;
2) it’s also specified that elves like Celegorm and his brothers Amrod and Amras are hunters, and Celegorm himself was *THE* hunter. So … if elves eat only vegetables, what the hell is supposed to chase? *look at Peter Jackson* maybe, boh, the mushrooms in the woods? XD Also, other Noldor seemed to chase as hobby, exactly as the noblemen in the Middle-Ages: in the chapter XVII of the Silmarillion, Finrod, Maedhros and Maglor are hunting in the woods near the river Sirion, when Finrod parted and finished for finding the First Men. It was also said that usually Curufin and Aredhel followed with Celegorm the following of the Vala Orome. Orome and his following seemed also inspired by the European myth of the Wild Hunt, so …
3) it’s also said that Thranduil and his court ate roast meat when the Dwarves saw his banquet into the woods.
So, no, the idea ‘the elves are vegetarians’ is totally an idea of Peter Jackson or of his crew at least, with no in Tolkien’s books, meanwhile in the texts there’re a lot of references that proved that this idea is absolutely wrong XD
Back up, BEREN is vegetarian?
Yeah! He became friends with all the animals when he was an outlaw and decided maybe eating his friends was a bad idea.
Afaik He and Beorn are the only vegetarians in the whole Legendarium
Schlagwort: meta
Marlene McKinnon (I’m sorry)
I totally understand why everyone prefers to make this Lily’s best friend. Lily didn’t have any known friends, so when Marlene McKinnon was mentioned in OotP, the fandom collectively decided to make her Lily’s best friend.
I really do get it, and I don’t mean to ruin headcanons and rain on parades.
But I think it’s more likely that the two weren’t that close.
There are four mentions of her in the books:
PS:
No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.“
So the “McKinnons” are mentioned as the best witches and wizards of their age. This probably doesn’t mean just Marlene. It’s a lot more likely that it means Marlene+husband or Marlene+sibling.
GoF:
“Yes!” said Karkaroff. “There was Travers – he helped murder the McKinnons!
So from this we can assume that the McKinnons were well-known enough that their murder would be something people would remember. Maybe it was particularly public because it was an entire family, but Karkaroff believes that it’s enough to shift the focus to Travers.
OP:
“There’s me,” said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. “And there’s Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side… that’s Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family.
This quote strongly implies that the entire family was killed in one swoop. It’s hard to know what “her whole family” means. In the case of Lily/James, most people say Lily/James’ deaths. The fact that both Karkaroff refers to them as the McKinnons and Moody says they got Marlene’s whole family, I would say that “whole family” would include at least 3 people if not more. It could be Marlene’s parents, a sibling, and Marlene herself. Or it could be Marlene, her spouse, and her child(ren).
If Marlene is married, it’s likely that Marlene McKinnon is her married name. Because if Marlene McKinnon had married John Smith but kept her name, Hagrid would have said “Marlene McKinnon and John Smith” or used “the Smiths” to (incorrectly) refer to their entire family.
DH:
Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard. Bathilda drops in most days, she’s a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I’m not sure he’d be pleased if he knew! I don’t know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore-
This to me is the strongest indicator that Lily and Marlene were not close friends. I know that everyone expresses emotions differently, but Lily sandwiches a mention of her best friend’s recent death in between a comment about Wormtail and some light gossip about Dumbledore. And it’s clear that this is the first time that she has discussed the McKinnons with Sirius, because she tells him how she reacted when she found out. So if they were long-time best friends, she’s being really cavalier.
If Ron had died, Harry would not write a letter to Hermione saying:
“Neville stopped by today and seemed down, but that was probably the news about the Weasleys. I cried all evening when I heard.”
Hermione would not need to be told that Harry was upset over the Weasley’s deaths, she would be mourning right along with Harry. And Harry would not drop a mention of Ron’s death into a casual thank you note. If this had been the first time he had communicated with Hermione since the Weasleys’ deaths, he would either go into at least a bit more detail or omit it entirely. And he would show some sign that he was concerned that Hermione might be mourning as well. Even if he had magically come to terms with it within 24 hours, he would not drop it into a letter to Ron’s other close friend.
Obviously, you’re free to ignore this and continue shipping Marlene/Sirius, I’m not going to criticize. But I think fanon can muddle our understanding of the characters, and honestly even I was surprised at how few times she’s actually mentioned.
So just know that if you’re writing a fic about Lily Evans, her best friend doesn’t actually have to be named Marlene.
I mostly agree, but I don’t think that Marlene and the rest of her family were necessarily killed all at the same time.
It’s the most obvious interpretation of what Moody said about them, of course (I didn’t even think that much about it until reading this post). But if Marlene was killed two weeks after the photo was taken, it would also mean that Lily wrote the letter 2-3 weeks or a month at most after that. Considering that by the time she wrote it, Harry was old enough to fly on a toy broom, the Potters must have been in hiding for some time already. Meeting with the rest of the Order for the sake of a group photo would have been too much of a security risk, so I’m assuming that a lot more time passed in between.
So it’s likely that Marlene was murdered first and the other McKinnons later towards the end of the first war. I think Lily’s reaction is reasonable if Marlene was a friend (though maybe not her best friend) who has been dead for a while, and now the rest of her family (whom Lily possibly didn’t know very well) have been killed too.
Rereading
“The Mariner’s Wife” – I vaguely remembered the letter Gil-Galad sends to
Tar-Meneldur asking for Numenorean aid, but I forgot how prescient it was about
the threat of Sauron’s growing influence.A new shadow arises in the East. It is no tyranny
of evil Men, as your son believes; but a servant of Morgoth is stirring, and
evil things wake again. Each year it gains in strength, for most Men are ripe
to its purpose. Not far off is the day, I judge, when it will become too great
for the Eldar unaided to withstand.This is the late ninth
century SA, more than three hundred years before Annatar first shows up in
Eregion, but here’s Gil-Galad already aware that the “shadow in the East” is
one of Morgoth’s former servants, and anticipating a potential invasion. It
kind of forces me to shift my whole understanding of the Second Age timeline. I
assumed Sauron had been subtly laying the foundations for his rule in the East –
whispering in the ears of local leaders, encouraging consolidation, leaving
behind a half-remembered personality cult wherever he went – the kind of
behind-the-scenes maneuvering that wouldn’t draw much attention. But here it
seems like he’d already become a full-blown tyrant by the second millennium of the
Second Age, and the Elves were aware of
it.Which has plenty of
implications, but I’m most confused (and amused) by the thought that Sauron was
forging rings with the Elves in Eregion and trying to rule a Dark Empire at the same
time. Like, what were the logistics of this? You can’t leave a bunch of mortals
alone for three hundred years and expect their descendants to still be loyal to
you when you get back. Even with highly competent, trusted lieutenants, he’d
still need to show his face every once in a while. But it couldn’t have helped Annatar’s
shady reputation with everyone except the Mírdain if he kept disappearing with
no good explanation for long stretches of time.(Galadriel: I’m glad to see
you’ve finally stopped associating with that sketchy Maia.Celebrimbor: Oh, no, he’s
coming back, he just went to survey some mithril deposits.Galadriel: For ten years?
Celebrimbor: He’s a really
thorough surveyor.)#then again given that arwen was off visiting galadriel for aragorn’s entire childhood #maybe ten year outings wouldn’t seem that weird to elves #‘I’m going out see you in a decade’ #‘okay pick up some more chisels while you’re gone’
Sudden theory about the sinking of Beleriand
For use in future projects:
Continents don’t just sink, they’re not floating landmasses; but they can be covered by rising sea levels.
What’s a cause of rising sea levels? Melting glaciers.
Where does Morgoth live? Where all the glaciers are.
Melkor’s forces are entrenched and burrowed all throughout the Iron Mountains. He’s got the whole north to himself, the reaches of Everlasting Cold; the opposing armies can’t even get past Thangorodrim, let alone get into all the nooks and crannies, the hiding places and secret strongholds that are scattered throughout the mountains. So, the best way to wreck his complete shit all in one pass is to simply melt the icecaps– with the help of Arien or Varda or Aulë or Ulmo or all of them.
The mountains become totally uninhabitable. The orc armies are trapped, buried in avalanches and drowned in mud, or forced to flee South, pushing Melkor’s forces into the waiting armies of the Valar.
When the great forges flood, they explode catastrophically. The subterranean levels of Angband fill with water.
The flooding doesn’t stop once the war is over; the great thawing of the North can’t be reversed. Melkor was camped out in the highest elevation in Beleriand, everything else is downstream.
Beleriand doesn’t sink in a day, it takes its time.
Ossiriand doesn’t stand a chance as the seas rise, Doriath is encircled by water and finally submerged; even the Encircling Mountains and the ruins of Gondolin are eventually swamped, waterlogged, becoming a lake of brown water.
The weather changes. Mudslides ruin the hills and mountains. The rivers back up and overflow with brackish sea water, killing all the freshwater life. Forests die, are uprooted, and swept away.
Everything turns to mud and logjams and floating corpses long before it is taken into the sea.
Elves scramble to save what they can of their history from water damage and mildew, but much is destroyed before it can be carried to safety. And the past seems less and less worth saving, buried in the mud and volcanic ash and grey rain.
The migration east is weary and cold; men and dwarves suffer from the constant wetness in their boots and clothes, while the Eldar suffer unthinkable loss in their souls. The remaining umaiar and Melkor’s creatures slink over the mountains wherever they can, masterless, their fires dulled to dying embers.
It is a long time before the refugees of Beleriand find reason to be joyful again.
According to Wookiepedia, members of the Jedi Council were elected by, well, the other members of the Jedi Council. In Legends, five members served for life. I’m guessing Yoda was one of these, which is super problematic considering just how long his life is. Four other members served open-ended terms with a chance at promotion to life-time when one of the five kicked it. The remaining three members were term-limited and were often brought on because they had specific types of expertise. I’m guessing Obi-Wan was one of these, promoted to the Council during the Clone Wars thanks to his skills at general-ing.
They rule over 10,000+ knights plus an unknown number of younglings, padawans, and service corpse members, but the Jedi Council is basically the board of a small art museum where everyone just nominates their friends and relatives. A number of councilors were nominated to the Council by their masters including Depa Billaba, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, while others were simply part of a siting councilor’s lineage, like Obi-Wan. Basically, if you’re just a rank-and-file Jedi from some random lineage, then you have almost no chance of ascending to power. You have even less of a chance if you have a known complaint with the Code or the Council’s interpretation of the same. No wonder Barriss felt like she had to blow something up just to be heard.
i need to
confirm the sources but i’m pretty sure Obi-Wan was got the rank of Master and
joined the Jedi Council right after the battle of Geonosis.Btw, I loved
you pointed this out because the Jedi Council always gave me some serious
nepotism vibes.
- Yoda (Council Member) trained Dooku (invited) trained
Qui-Gon (considered) trained Obi-Wan
(Council Member) trained Anakin (it’s complicated!)- Yoda (Council Member) trained
Mace Windu (Council Member) trained Depa Billaba (Council Member)- Yoda (Council Member) trained
trained Ki-Adi-Mundi (Council Member)- Yoda (Council Member) trained
trained Kit Fisto (Council Member)It’s too much coincidence,
to be just coincidence. Of the 12 members, we have at least 6 linked to Yoda. In
An Order with more 10000 members, no one else, who was not directly linked to
Yoda, was good enough to be on the Council? Am I supposed to believe that?
Seriously! I call bullshit. The members were not elect on merit only, their
views HAD to be in line with Yoda’s (and his apprentices and, let’s be real,
yoda’s apprentices believes = yoda’s believes) for them to even be considered.Qui-Gon: I shall do what I must, Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan: If you would just follow the code, you would be on the council.It’s not about
selecting the “best” members. It’s about selecting a member who will help them maintain
the status quo.The Jedi Council is the people in a room deciding what’s best for everyone, ready to give final say to one ‘wise’ leader when they don’t agree. Boy, that sounds familiar. Where have I heard of that system of government before? Hmmmm.
What’s really interesting to me is the aspect of dynasty within the Council. Jedi aren’t permitted to have families and, if they have biological children, they aren’t permitted to raise them so as to avoid attachment and nepotism, and yet, that’s exactly what happens with master-padawan lineage. It’s about as incestuous as all those medieval popes being succeeded by their ‘nephews.’ Yoda, a life-time member with an insanely long lifetime, basically has a stranglehold on the reigns of power which his ‘heirs’ may share but never actually inherit.
The more i
think about this the more frustrated I get. All the Order’s major issues, in
some way or another, come back to this. For them to evolve, they didn’t need a
radical chance like Anakin slaughtering everyone. All they needed to do was
open themselves to new opinions. It was that simple. If they had accepted new
ideas, debated them, learned from them, they would’ve been unstoppable. Something
to be truly respected and admired. They didn’t need a revolution. All they
needed to do was listen. This is what frustrates me so much about the council. If
they had done something as simple as listening to new ideas everything that
happened could’ve been avoided.And as much
as I enjoy criticizing all the members of the council, I’m blaming this one on
Yoda and here’s why: the Jedi Order was capable of change. They changed their
rules a bunch of times to adapt to new situations, so change was possible. But how
many changes happened after Yoda took control? As far as I know, nothing significant
changed. If anything, his “rise to power” marked the decline of the Jedi Order.
Under his guidance, the Jedi kept themselves isolated and detached from the
rest of the galaxy, they grew more dependent on the Senate, we noticed the
first signs of nepotism in the High Council, they turned themselves into
soldiers, etc.Yes, the
individual members of the Council are all responsible for what happened too but
we can’t deny the only thing they have in common is Yoda, and that says a lot. They
were all trained by him (at some point or another) and they all sought his
counsel when in doubt. That’s a lot of power over a lot of minds. And that’s
why I don’t by the idea that Yoda is wise or admirable. I’m not saying his sith
lord in disguise but I can’t call wise a being who lived for 900 years without
learning shit. I just can’t.The saddest part is that the Jedi, or at least some Jedi, were aware of this. In the Kanan comics, Depa says that the reason she chose Caleb is because he questions the status quo and the Jedi are going to need people who do that if they have any hope of surviving in a changing universe. She firmly believes that they need some sort of avenue for peaceful dissent in order to stay a relevant force in the galaxy.
The sad truth is that the Jedi order has a Yoda problem. He trains all the younglings. Ahsoka later describes him as both wise and kind but he’s demonstrably neither. She, and every other Jedi youngling for 800+ years have simply been raised to think that. He also has the power to override anyone else in terms of decision making both because they’ve been raised to respect his ‘wisdom’ and because he has that authority as Grand Master of the Council. During AotC, he overrides Mace Windu, the Master of the Order, and makes him cover up the fact they have no clue where their mystery army came from.
So many of Yoda’s decisions are about maintaining or consolidating power, both for himself within the Order and the Order within the galaxy. He doesn’t want Anakin because the Chosen One might be a threat to his dominance. He doesn’t want to admit that the Jedi don’t know what’s going on during the Clone Wars, because he doesn’t want them to lose power within the Republic. In an episode of Rebels he admits that he acted out of fear and that all of his decisions leading up to and during the Clone Wars were based on his fear of change. It’s nice that he finally gained the wisdom and introspection to figure that out, but it was too little too late.
“a Yoda
problem”!! I love it. From now on all my meta will be tagged “the Yoda problem”!!!lolTbh, I never
bought the idea behind that scene in Rebels. I never believed had actually
learned anything from what happened. it’s the same problem I’ve with Yoda in
the ROTS novelization. Both have scenes with Yoda admitting he was wrong but he
changes nothing afterwards. He admits he acted out of fear, and years later he’s
back to pull the same shit that led to destruction of the Jedi order. It doesn’t
matter what he says because his actions don’t align with his beliefs. It’s like
Anakin saying he’ll bring peace to the galaxy right after he killed a bunch of
children. What comes out of his mouth doesn’t match his behavior.I think at
some point Yoda mentions they were wrong to jump into the Clone wars. Okay, I agree.
He’s right. But then he’s absolutely okay with Luke turning into a soldier so
he can kill his own father. Where’s the wisdom in that?What bothers
me the most about Yoda is that he had more time than any other character in the
franchise to learn from his mistakes but yet died preaching the same crap that
got all his students killed in brutal, violent ways. Not only that, he died in
his bed, peacefully. As if he had done well and accomplished his mission. Like a
hero resting after saving the day.He never
took any responsibilities for 900 years of mistakes. There’s no wisdom or humility
in that. The very little he learned changed nothing. He died the same way he
lived.I think part of the tragedy of Yoda and Obi-Wan in the OT, is that they knew they had fucked up somewhere, but they were never able to figure out WHERE they had fucked up.
So they died doing the same shit that got them in that position in the first place.
#for an order of empathic monks #they’re shockingly bad at self-reflection (tags by @grand-duc)
I know that this meme is long over, and that I’ve asked you already, but I would love to hear your thoughts on Aule?
I MIGHT LOVE AULE EVEN MORE THAN MANWE, DEAR READER (what,
Superbeings Wrestling With The Complexities of Creation is apparently one of my
favorite tropes)1-3 things I enjoy
about themHow the desire to give and teach is such an intrinsic part of
his nature. I think that reflects something true and healthy about the nature
of craftsmanship. I don’t even mind that almost everyone who goes wrong
(Feanor, the Noldor in general, Sauron, Saruman) were particular favorites or
proteges of Aule. I think this stems more from Tolkien’s passionate interest in
creation and its perils than from his anti-technology strain, though certainly
the consciousness of the brutalities of technology divorced from art is never
far from his mind. Aule’s domain is perilously adjacent to power, after all: he’s
a maker of tools, and while tools should be for better understanding and better
loving the world, for adding your own vision to it, there’s nothing in their
nature that prevents them from being misused for mere domination or exercise of
will.It’s just so cosmically
appropriate that he’s paired with Yavanna (and I love how both of them
together are different aspects of Earth). The tension between Aule and Yavanna –
between building and growing, artificial and organic, garden and forest, runs
throughout the legendarium. So many of the characters in which this tension
appears are in conflict, but at the root, or possibly at the highest and purest
level, those concepts are literally wedded. I think this informed by profound
love on the part of the author. Look at the way Tolkien loves trees, genuinely
loves them, not just regarding them as Symbols of Unspoilt Nature. Yet at the
same time he is himself an artificer, not a gardener; a builder of worlds, a
maker of languages.Come to think of it, I think there’s an excellent reason that an image of a tree is Tolkien’s own
explanation of/metaphor for his life’s work in Leaf by Niggle, (which is an apologia
pro vita sua if I ever read one, and a gorgeous, wrenching meditation on creation
and creating.)I love the way he defends those he loves coupled with the
trouble he has in forgiving them. He extends them the benefit of the doubt,
possibly far beyond the point where he should, but once that relationship is
broken, it’s broken for good (unlike with, for example, Manwe, who clearly
longs for reconciliation, or Ulmo, who seems to accept and even share the
ambiguous nature of the Incarnates). Given his nature, I think he’s inclined to
see relationships mechanistically – as things that work until they break, and
things broken are in need of repair rather than healing.Something interesting
about them based on tenuous circumstantial evidenceOkay this is straight-up headcanon – simply putting together two
events that we know happened – but I imagine the final straw that broke Sauron’s
loyalty to his first master and sent him to Melkor’s side was the creation of
the Dwarves, and the events surrounding them. Sauron, who we know admired
Melkor’s ability to effect his will upon the world, can’t decide which he finds
more infuriating – that Aule should have yielded up his creation in the first
place, or that the life of his creation depend on an act of mercy. (He doesn’t
understand forgiveness in the least, nor has he gotten much better at it when
it’s his turn to ask for mercy at the end of the First Age.)A question I have
about themWhat does happen to
the souls of Dwarves who die?A random relevant line
I likeGonna be a random relevant passage because this whole
interchange is magnificent:And the voice of Iluvatar said to him “Why hast thou done this?
Why dost thou attempt a thing which thou knowest is beyond thy power and thy
authority? For thou hast from me as a gift thy own being only, and no more; and
therefore the creatures of thy hand and mind can live only by that being,
moving when thou thinkest to move them, and if thy thought be elsewhere,
standing idle. Is that thy desire?”Then Aule answered “I did not desire such lordship. I desired
things other than I am, to love and teach them, so that they too might perceive
the beauty of Ea, which thou hast caused to be. For it seemed to me that there
is great room in Arda for many things to rejoice in it, yet it is for the most
part empty still, and dumb. And in my impatience I have fallen into folly. Yet
the making of things is in my heart from my own making by thee, and the child
of little understanding that makes a play of the deeds of his father may do so
without thought of mockery, but because he is the son of his father. But what
shall I do now, so that thou be not angry with me for ever? As a child to his
father, I offer to thee these things, the work of the hands which thou hast
made. Do with them what thou wilt. But should I not rather destroy the world of
my presumption?”Aule sweetheart nobody
but you said anything about anger or anything about destruction. Two parts of Aule’s nature are coming into
conflict here, I think – his independence and curiosity with his law-abiding,
rule-craving side. (Surely there are many smart bookish types here who grew up
as simultaneous non-conformists and adult-pleasers who can relate!) And Aule is
shown mercy twice over – mercy for his presumption in creating the Dwarves, and
mercy for his presumption in attempting to destroy them.My preferred version,
if there is more than one version of their story (or part of their story)Can’t actually think of any major variants.
Favorite
relationship(s) THE DWARVESHow would they react
to Tom BombadilWariness. There’s absolutely nothing that he can offer or teach
this creature. What are the rules that govern this encounter???Optional: Something
about them that I think people forgetHe gets Tolkien’s own “secret vice” of language creation! He creates
Khuzdul for his beloved children, and is in the process of teaching it to them
when surprised by the Creator of the Universe. And Sauron, once his servant, presumably
learned this skill from him (though his conlang is considerably less
successful.)Actually, come to think of it, isn’t language itself a fusion of
the artificial and the organic?HANG ON after chatting with @sumeriasmith about this I have Further Thoughts. Sumeria points out that one of the lesser-noted damages that Melkor does to the world is in making the rest of the Ainur more hesitant to push boundaries than they might otherwise have been.
Look at the sequence that Aule goes through in his response to Iluvatar’s question:
1: I love the world and wanted people to whom I could show its beauty.
2: I’m following my nature; you made me a creator.
3: Do you want my creations? Here, you take them.
4: No, wait, I should destroy them, right? I’ll smash them right now.
He could have made a stand on any one of the points before he gets to destruction, and yet he doesn’t. I wonder if what’s going through his head is oh God, oh God, this is how Melkor started (and that’s not wrong!)
Indeed, the thing that Iluvatar cites as questionable in Aule’s activities is the way that his creations aren’t independent beings. They’re animated only by his will. And Aule reads this as a dire reproach. “I did not desire such lordship,” he protests. I suspect what’s going through his mind here is oh no I’ve made slaves.
This is, of course, long before Melkor’s own creation (ish) of the orcs, but Melkor does also do something grotesquely similar. Except that in his case, being animated only by his will was the desired end rather than an unfortunate side effect.
So when Aule rushes to destroy the Dwarves even before it’s demanded of him, it’s not mere reflexive rule-following. He’s seen a deep and dreadful wrong in creation thanks to Melkor, and he’s passionate not to do the same wrong to the world. What Sauron (in my headcanon above) sees as unforgivable weakness of will is, like most of the errors of the Valar, an error of love.
lies:
camillavirgil
replied to your photosetBook Faramir IS the best Faramir
The change to Faramir’s character in The Two Towers was by far my biggest disappointment with the movies. I discussed it with other fans back in the day, watched and rewatched the BTS features and listened to the commentary tracks, and ended up mostly defending the filmmakers’ decision in online debates. But it was always a little (or more than a little) sad for me that they did that.
I know the arguments on both sides. I know why they felt they had to do it. No one is giving me hundreds of millions of dollars to adapt a sprawling, multi-book epic to the big screen in a way that will justify its enormous budget and satisfy everyone from lifelong lovers of the source material (*waves*) to new fans and casual “eh, sure; I’ll watch it” types.
But I’ll always regret that they couldn’t find room for the actual character from the books, the one who wasn’t going to undercut Aragorn or his struggle just by existing, but also wasn’t going to beat up Gollum or send the Ring to Denethor, because those things were wrong, and he saw himself as bound by that.
There’s a clip of David Wenham describing how he went to Jackson/Boyens/Walsh (or maybe it was just a story recounted by one of the latter trio; I can’t remember now) after he’d read the books (which he hadn’t when he was cast), and saying hey, you know, this actually seems like a significant change to my character. And them telling him yeah, we know, but we need to for all these reasons (*enumerates reasons*) and anyway he ends up in the same place, right?
Yeah, no. I mean yeah, he ends up having made the same decision. But he’s not the same person. How he gets there matters.
I want to believe a movie could have been made that didn’t sacrifice his character in the name of storytelling. It wouldn’t have been the same movie; might not have been as successful a movie. But I would have loved it.
I’ve mentioned that I’m reading the books again, out loud with my co-conspirator at night, the way we used to do. We just finished the Council of Elrond, and it was a thrill to realize that the brother Boromir referred to (though not by name) was the real Faramir, my Faramir.
I can’t wait to meet him again.
While Lord of the Rings imo becomes an overall better and richer and more substantial book after one has read The Silmarillion, et al, it does feel like it trades off something in…scope? space? expanse? openness? possibility? suggestion? In LOTR-ignorant-of-the-Silm there is no or very limited explanation on just what the hell all those references to various historical events, or glimmers of sublime spiritual transcendence, or surges of inexplicable significant imagery, or half-told songs of long-ago legends and mostly-alien concepts, or glimpses of the strange and magic and inhuman and otherworldly, are about. It just is, and it feels right, and it means something, but the full understanding is beyond one’s grasp. And this is honestly one of the best aspects of the book. Even in the Appendices where there is more explanation, it strongly comes across that this information is distilled into mainly just the plot-relevant details while only just barely brushing the edges of relevatory wonder, giving the entire world of Middle Earth an enormous, limitless, labyrinthine, enchantment-soaked quality that seems to hold so much density and variety in information that no one could know it all, and therefore there are huge swathes of reality that are a complete and utter tantalizing shrug and fair game for the imagination.
The Silmarillion is also vastly incomplete, yet it doesn’t feel the same type of incomplete. It’s got the “ok, I can easily wring 50K words of elaboration out of that 4 sentence summary,” type of incomplete in spades, but unlike Lord of the Rings or its Appendices, it does not show glimpses of or gesture towards an expanse of universe beyond the veil of “here are a few of the plot-relevant realities of this world, there’s a untold mountain of other ones too, but that’s a long story, and even I only know a very little bit of it.” It instead gives off a vibe that suggests – falsely! – that the stuff that is spelled out in the text comprises a more-or-less sufficiently complete working summary of the universe and its contents, and the suggestion that any elements or events or peoples or concepts or things or stories that may exist or may have occurred outside of its scope (or inside of the enormous gaps in both the maps and the timelines where there is no or very sparse information, within its scope) are either unimportant, irrelevant, or just more of the same, and therefore tends to make the fictional universe feel limited by the bounds of the existing explanations.
This feeling sort of makes 0 sense because the Silm touches on even more ideas than LOTR, but I guess it’s kind of like, if you’re on the surface of the water and you see an iceberg, you’re very aware that most of the iceberg is underwater and you’re only seeing the tip. But if you dove down to see the underwater portion of the iceberg, it might be really difficult to remember that you only saw the surfaces of the underwater portion, and not all the tons of ice deeper inside the chunk, and that you can’t actually say “I saw the whole iceberg.”
There’s one type of false circumscribing which is “nothing important happened when we weren’t looking” and/or “if we didn’t observe it change, it hasn’t changed during the 6,000 years we weren’t looking.” And a second type, about the existing contents of the fictional world – ideas, histories, powers, peoples, creatures, myths, cultures, Just So Stories, backstories, spiritual concepts, social concepts, powers and phenomena. And when some stuff that exists doesn’t fit into the pattern of the things that are explained through the explicit world-origins (eg, Tom Bombadil, obvs, but a lot of more subtle things too), the tendency is to ignore it and assume it either a) doesn’t really affect anything, or b) is a rare weird outlier – rather than assume its existence signals that the contents of the world have a lot more to them than what the small amount of existing plot-relevant metaphysical and historical explanations have clarified. The Silm does contain multitudes of possibilities outside its lines, anything from key events and concepts that affect the characters’ lives, to trajectories of change regarding societal epochs or prejudices or technology or individual character development, to aesthetics or setting/atmosphere/flavor and quantity of magic-ness. But unlike LOTR it is less helpful in invoking the awareness of this, somehow, I suppose since its style is so explanatory that it can feel like it’s a tell-all, which it isn’t, in-universe, and I don’t think Tolkien ever meant it to be, out-of-universe.
That’s so true, and it’s almost the same with The Hobbit, too. I’m really happy that my reading order was The Hobbit first, then LotR, then the Silmarillion. I mean, I remember the days when I thought “oh, lucky Bilbo, finding a magic ring, I wish cool rings like that existed irl and I had one too” (haha no), and that made the revelations in LotR so much better. It made the whole “the Ring was made by Sauron and REALLY needs to be destroyed” actually surprising, which is probably not the case for most other LotR fans.
It’s similar with all the LotR references to Silmarillion events; your first paragraph is exactly what I found so special and interesting when I read LotR. You’ve also described the experience after reading the Silmarillion so well; that impression that now you know just about everything about Middle-Earth even though you don’t.
I’m glad that the Silmarillion with its explanations exists though. I always like knowing more. And I feel like some authors (particularly of modern fantasy or sci-fi) try to make mysterious references to ancient events, long-forgotten history, legends, myths… but obviously don’t put this much thought into it.
(I could be wrong, but this is the feeling I got from some books. Most
of which I’ve read/watched some time ago, so I’m really not sure about
this)
In LotR, I was always certain that there was an actual deeper explanation that Tolkien had considered.
Or there’s lots of Monster of the Week type creatures or magics but far more often. We do have, for example, the stone giants in The Hobbit. Which I’m okay with, as that sort of thing happens rarely enough in Tolkien’s works so when it does, it creates that feeling of “there are more things in this world then you could know of” (as opposed to inconsistency when it’s too much).
Ok but I’ve been binge watching the Narnia movies again, after not having seen them for a long ass time, and now, being a little older and (hopefully) a little more mature than I was when I first saw them, I always feel physically sick when I see the Pevensies being children after The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe because they just aren’t anymore and I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like, to grow up as kings and queens, respected and important, and full of duty, only to go back to being 8 years old (in Lucy’s case).
They didn’t remember England, or the wardrobe, or their old lives, they were Narnians and they were pushed back, not only into a world that was bound to make them miserable, but also into bodies that couldn’t reflect what they’d been through.
Just imagine Peter, waking up in the morning, not remembering that he isn’t the Magnificent anymore, imagine him subconsciously reaching for something to trim his beard, only to remember that it isn’t there anymore, to expect old battle wounds to hurt until he realises that they can’t because he doesn’t have them.
Or Edmund, who left England a stubborn selfish little boy who only wanted his mummy back, and came back the Just, the redeemed traitor, the diplomat, the man, having to resort to being ten years old and probably not even allowed to peek at a newspaper because he’s just a child after all. He plays chess, incredibly well, he doesn’t mock his siblings anymore and all the friends he knew when he was still a boy are either irritated at his behaviour or too childish, too selfish for somebody who knows very well just what selfishness can do, who has a part of the White Witch in him, always.
Susan forgets, we all know that. She must’ve lain awake at night, remembering just what it felt like to cover pain and viciousness and gore with a smile and a blush, remembering being the Gentle, but never in war. She must’ve cried for all the lost years, for all that she learnt and that she can never forget, for all that she has accomplished, that will bring her nothing in this world that doesn’t feel like hers. So she sits down in front of a mirror, talks herself out of believing, telling herself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream, that this Narnia her siblings talk about is nothing but a game.
The truth is too terrifying, to devastating to face.Lucy, little Lucy, who grew up under Mr Tumnus’ smiles and Aslan’s approving gaze, who was loved by all, who did learn how to rule, how to negotiate but who never forgot just what it means to be a queen of Narnia, this girl who matured into a woman, who had a woman’s mind and body and a queen’s grace, she who they called the Valiant, the lion’s daughter, she shrank into herself, into a child, younger than even her siblings. She remembers, clearest of them all, she is the only one who still knows Mr Tumnus’ face, still knows Aslan, but she is just a girl, a pretty little thing who will never be the queen she was, who will never be the woman she was because queenship forms a person in ways no schools can.
They must’ve been devastated when they tumbled to the floor, short and small, and there’s a war they have no control over and Lucy is small, Edmund is skinny, so skinny and Peter and Susan have lost their glow and they’ve changed, they’ve changed so much. (The first time, somebody calls them by just their names, they feel invalidated and small. And offended. They’re kings and queens, they’ve earned their titles and now they have to sit in a dim room filled with children and listen to teachers, have to allow themselves to be insignificant and nothing more than what they were when Lucy first stepped into Narnia – frightened children in the middle of a war they wish was never there in the first place)
Saving the tags bc hell yeah:
i was just thinking about the sheer amount of trauma they must’ve all been through and honestly it explains a lot of the bitterness in prince caspian bc they literally grew up then were tossed back into childhood
and it probably confused their parents so much
bc something is different
particularly in edmund
but they can’t quite figure it out
If [Sam had not unwittingly foiled Gollum’s repentance], what could then have happened? The course of the entry into Mordor and the struggle to reach Mount Doom would have been different, and so would the ending. The interest would have shifted to Gollum, I think, and the battle that would have gone on between his repentance and his new love on one side and the Ring. Though the love would have been strengthened daily it could not have wrested the mastery from the Ring. I think that in some queer twisted and pitiable way Gollum would have tried (not maybe with conscious design) to satisfy both. Certainly at some point not long before the end he would have stolen the Ring or taken it by violence (as he does in the actual Tale). But ‘possession’ satisfied, I think he would then have sacrificed himself for Frodo’s sake and have /voluntarily/ cast himself into the fiery abyss.
I think that an effect of his partial regeneration by love would have been a clearer vision when he claimed the Ring. He would have perceived the evil of Sauron, and suddenly realized that he could not use the Ring and had not the strength or stature to keep it in Sauron’s despite: the only way to keep it and hurt Sauron was to destroy it and himself together – and in a flash he may have seen that this would also be the greatest service to Frodo.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed. Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien. (London: HarperCollins, 2006.) 330 (L246)
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