Anon, you are the absolute kindest. Thank you so much for your lovely words and for encouraging me to think about this long abandoned OTP!
There is no room for pride in the Hunt. There is no room for arrogance lest it cloud a Hunter’s vision and block up a Hunter’s ears; there is no room for egos lest the horses founder upon them.
Orome knows this and chooses his hunters accordingly. Humility, savvy, wariness, patience, poise.
“Hail, Vala,” says the Boy, silver-haired and wearing his pride on his strong young shoulders, in his fierce bright eyes, glinting between his teeth. “I am son of Feanaro, grandson of Finwe. I am third of my house and strongest of it.” He tosses his head. “Fairest, too. I would be a Hunter. Teach me, O Lord.” He smiles, and the challenge of it subtly changes the space between them. “If you think you can.”
Orome does.
–
There are no favorites in the Hunt. Orome, who saw the first days of the Eldar and will eventually see the last, who loves all who follow him and takes no pets nor particulars, knows this well.
“Look, Lord!” says the silver-haired Hunter, blood streaking his bare chest as he raises his arms in victory, in brilliant joy. “For you, I have done this! For you I have killed. Are you proud?”
Orome is.
–
There is no leaving the Hunt, not when the greatest gifts have been given and the greatest trust bestowed. There is no walking back from the lessons of the forest, this all Hunters know.
“Please, Orome,” says the Warrior softly. “Do not hate me for doing what I must.” Huan, at his feet, is silent. Orome looks down at them both and knows the scent of regret, sharp as fresh blood in the air.
“Orome,” says the Warrior, still fierce, still fair, no longer his. “Do not be angry. I will be back one day.” He reaches up, his palms open, his lips parted. His mouth is hot and tastes of pride. “Tell me you will not forget me. Tell me I can come back.”
Orome does.
–
There is no room for forgiveness in Orome’s heart, just as there are no second chances in the Hunt. A spear ill-thrown throws open the door to accident and pain and there is no unthrowing it, no forgiveness in a boar’s tusks or a hind’s striking hooves.
And there is no place in the forest for a Hunter who has become a killer. No place in Orome’s heart for one who has betrayed him so.
“Hail,” says the spirit, fragile and thin and silvered still. “I am no one, born of nothing, knowing naught.” It laughs, or weeps. “I do not know who I am or where I am or why. But I know you, Hunter, and that I love you. Tell me why that is.”
And Orome, who has broken the rules a thousand times for Celegorm the Fair, breaks them one more time.
Schlagwort: queue
This has been bothering me for more than ten years
So there’s that scene in The Two Towers where everyone’s holed up in Helm’s Deep and are super outnumbers and probably gonna die.
To bolster their forces, they decide to arm the old men (ok, fair enough) and … the young boys? Meanwhile all the women cower in the caves.
What.
Like excuse me, in what way is a nine year old peasant boy with no training, who can barely see over the battlements, and who can probably barely lift a sword … in what way is that small child a more suitable combatant than an angry peasant woman who’s been slinging haybales and taming horses and rolling big barrels of mead and lifting pigs under her arms for all thirty years of her life. At the very least she can see over the battlements and lift a weapon. Depending on her place in society she almost certainly knows how to hold a rake or a scythe or a hammer or lift logs. She knows how to butcher animals, and has likely done so many times with giant knives and gotten covered in gore and viscera. Give her a cleaver on a stick and say “have at it, ma’am.”
Nobody in Helm’s Deep should be giving a flying fuck about “gender roles” when there’s an army about to come in and slaughter them to the last child. They should be thinking strategically. And strategically, arming untrained children is a bad idea, and arming strong adults with a basic grasp of how to wield a big weapon is a good idea.
Angrod in Dorthonion
This is the Kromlau Bridge located in Germany. (Source)
It looks so magical. 😢
This shit looks like it’s straight outta the hobbit
I think we need to talk about the under appreciated Window Seat fandom
I mean really? With the book shelves?
It’s like an alcove of happiness.
You want a whole row of individual seats? Fine, here you go.
Or how about a whole window bed for those snugglers out there.
Curtains.. Guys this one has curtains.
Seriously? This is basically a glass cube of bliss.
You can even get them with corners! Not enough corners? Okay.
Ba-BAM!! Corners for cocooning.
There’s also the Roman-esque themed seat for the historians out there.
If you don’t want to snuggle up in blankets with hot cocoa in this then I don’t even know why you’re on this planet. I mean dat stonework.
This one’s an entire rectangle. Just imagine all the cuddling that could happen in there. It’s practically a fortress.
This one’s fucking curved okay? it’s just chillin, up of the ground, and curved for your lounging convenience.
don’t like rectangles or square? Okay. Have a fucking trapezoid seat.
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