#Rhudaur

[geekashgaming]

Hobby updates

[negreabsolut]

Mapa de l'Angle d'Àrnor, que són les terres entre el Mitheíthel (Brollgrís) i el Bruinen (Aiguabram), i l'aiguabarreig d'aquests dos rius. El límit nord d'aquesta regió és imprecís.

[rawheadex]

Rhudaur, the Place of Roaring Red-gold...

[tenth-sentence]

The claim was resisted by Rhudaur.

"The Lord of the Rings: Appendices - Appendix A" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[tolkienhorrorweek]

Welcome to Tolkien Horror Week! This is a new event, following in the footsteps of Terrifying Tolkien Week, last run in 2019. This event celebrates all things spooky and creepy in Tolkien's work—both the things he tells us explicitly and the things he leaves up to our imaginations.

The event will run from October 27th to November 2nd and accepts all types of fanworks. There is an AO3 collection for the event here.

Below are some suggested prompts for each day of the week. They are not mandatory; feel free to combine them or disregard them entirely.

Day 1: Angband & Utumno | seeth all things crooked | captivity Day 2: Angmar, Rhudaur, & Minas Morgul | of such dread and dark enchantment | sorcery Day 3: Mordor & the Dead Marshes | the pitiless land | control Day 4: The Barrow-downs & the Old Forest | the clinging mists | corruption Day 5: Mirkwood, Nan Elmoth, & Taur-nu-Fuin | the shadows grew long in the forest | hunting Day 6: Nan Dungortheb & the Paths of the Dead | by perilous paths | terror Day 7: Isengard, Moria, & Númenor | we cannot get out | trapped

Please mention @tolkienhorrorweek in the body of your post and tag #tolkienhorrorweek and #tolkienhorrorweek2024 in the first 10 tags. You may also submit a post.

Given the nature of the event, please also tag for any potential triggers or content warnings and place any NSFW content beneath a read more/link to AO3.

For more information, please see the FAQ. If you have any questions, drop them in the ask box.

Art is by Alan Lee.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine getting ready to leave Beorns's home and travel to Mirkwood.

Thorin: "Gandalf, time is wasting."

Beorn: "There is more. Not long past, word spread.. the dead had been seen walking near the High Fells of Rhudaur."

Y/N frowns and meets Beorn's concerned eyes.

Y/N: "The dead you say?"

Beorn: "Is it true? Are there tombs in those mountains?"

Y/N and Gandalf look at each other and think back.

*A memory*

Galadriel: "When Angmar fell... the Men of the North took his body, and all that he had possessed and sealed it within the High Fells of Rhudaur.

Deep within the rock, they buried him.

In a tomb so dark.. it would never come to light."

Gandalf: "Yes. Yes there are tombs up there."

Beorn: "I remember a time when a great evil ruled these lands. One powerful enough... to raise the dead.

Y/N side eyes Gandalf.

Beorn: "If that enemy has returned to Middle Earth... I would have you tell me."

Gandalf: "Saruman the White, says it's not possible."

Y/N: *spits out* "Blast that old man."

Gandalf: *pats Y/N's shoulder reassuring her.* "The enemy was destroyed and will never return."

Beorn: "And what does Gandalf the Grey say?"

*Gandalf shakes his head, unsure.*

Y/N: *Steps forward.* "We must go."

Beorn: "Yes. Go now, while you have the light."

*A howl rings out through the trees*

Beorn: "Your hunters are not far behind."

Y/N: "Thank you Beorn."

Beorn: "No you can't keep one of my puppies."

Y/N: "Fine."

[mylovelylittleobsessions]

The King’s Treasure

A Rings of Power one-shot

Written for @tolkienhorrorweek

Day 2: Angmar, Rhudaur, & Minas Morgul | of such dread and dark enchantment | sorcery

Gil-Galad had an eye for beautiful things. A perfectly-crafted vase, a carved stone table, a garden cultivated down to the last blade of grass - all things deliberately selected for his enjoyment. Just because he was king did not mean he could not occasionally indulge himself. His court, too, was bespoke to his tastes. Every member, from the lowest stable sweep to the most vital courtier, was chosen for their beauty as much as their ability. A face, a voice, even their hands could be lovely enough to appease him. The crown jewel of his court, his loveliest treasure, was his herald.

Read more on AO3

[silmarillisms]

fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinn. give me, and thus all of tumblr, your thoughts on tom bombadil. you said you had thoughts and i wanna hear them.

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow, Bright blue his jacket is and his boots are yellow, Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water, Old Tom Bombadil and the River Daughter.

Throughout the whole of the Legendarium, Tom Bombadil is widely considered to be one of the murkiest and strangest parts. He is loved or hated by fans and there are very rarely any middling opinions. The questions about his origins and what precisely he is will never be answered but I actually don't think that's terribly important. I'll get into why later in this meta, but I'd like to open by stating that I love Tom Bombadil and I think that his inclusion in the Legendarium (specifically in The Lord of the Rings - he is not present in The Hobbit or the Silmarillion) provides the reader with an important lens through which we can view Tolkien's world, the themes of his works, and his ethos as an author.

Before I go further, I will state that the fourth episode of season two of Rings of Power was one of my favorite episodes so far across both seasons. I understand why it might not be for some other people, but I think that it captured one of my favorite characters in a way that I never thought I'd get to see on screen.

Before I go further, the origin of Tom Bombadil, his exact nature, and what he represents is possibly the most disputed portion of the Legendarium. What I've written below is my personal opinion and literary analysis at work, nothing more than that. There are other opinions and I'm not going into them, although I have read many of them. This is my interpretation, which is one among many.

Eldest, that's what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He made paths before the Big People, and saw the Little People arriving. He was here before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed westward, Tom was here already, before the seas were bent. He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless, before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

Our first and only real meeting with Tom Bombadil (aside from the poems in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil) comes near the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring in the chapter 'In the House of Tom Bombadil'. The quoted passage above is, in context, Tom's response to Frodo finally plucking up the courage to ask who he is, this jolly figure whose song terrifies the Barrow-wights into flight.

While the entire passage is interesting, it is the last line that I find truly fascinating: He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless, before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

I believe that this is a clear reference to the arrival of Melkor and the other Ainur in the Silmarillion. This means that it was Eru who created Tom Bombadil - Tom was a product of the First Song. Tom wandered the hills and vales of Arda before anything and anyone else was there. But why?

What is he? Who is he to command such power that when he tells Frodo to simply sing a song to call for him if they are troubled and Frodo does so, the utterance of his very name shatters a wall?

Iarwain Ben-adar, Oldest and Fatherless, the Elves and Dunedain call him. Orald, Ancient, the men of Rohan call him. Forn, Out of the Ancient Days, the Dwarves call him.

(As a side note, the goat in episode four is named Iarwain and it's a lovely reference. Dunno who else caught that, but it's great.)

I think that Tom Bombadil is Arda, the personification of the land. He is the rolling hills, the valleys and dales. He is the waterlands where he makes his home in the Third Age. He is the rolling plains of Rohan, the deep forests of Mirkwood, the high fells of Rhudaur, the distant deserts of Rhun.

He is the utterly unselfish and primordial joy of the natural world being permitted by a benevolent deity to know itself. Fitting then that he is wed to Goldberry, the River Daughter, who is herself the turning of the seasons - the Land wed to the Seasons that shape it.

This is fitting in relation to Letter 19 in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien where Tolkien confirms that Tom, to him, represented the soul of the countryside that Tolkien saw disappearing all around him in Oxfordshire.

And therein lies the reason that Tom Bombadil is so powerful, why his song so surely masters that which it seeks to master. It also tells us why the One Ring has no effect on Tom Bombadil. Remember:

Indeed, so much did Tom know, and so cunning was his questioning, that Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his hopes and fears he had told before even to Gandalf. Tom wagged his head up and down, and there was a glint in his eyes when he heard of the Riders. 'Show me the precious Ring!' The said suddenly in the midst of the story: and Frodo, to his own astonishment, drew out the chain from his pocket, and unfastening the Ring handed it at once to Tom. It seemed to grow larger as it lay for a moment on his big brown-skinned hand. Then suddenly he put it to his eye and laughed. For a second the hobbits had a vision, both comical and alarming, of his bright blue eye gleaming through the circle of gold. Then Tom put the Ring round the end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the hobbits noticed nothing strange about this. Then they gasped. There was no sign of Tom disappearing! Tom laughed again, and then he spun the Ring in the air and it vanished in a flash. Frodo gave a cry - and Tom leaned forward and handed it back to him with a smile.

And shortly after this, Tom can see Frodo when he puts the Ring on as well. Why would a Ring that tempts those who have desires for dominion and power have any effect on a creature that desires neither? Who is not able to desire either?

What do the woodlands desire? The creeks, the dells, the rocky highlands? What power does the river desire that it does not already have? You cannot tempt, manipulate, or deceive that which has no desire to manipulate.

There's another dichotomy at play here too: order and chaos, and they are not as obvious as they may at first seem. Sauron desires perfect order, brought about by the domination of industry. In the context of this dichotomy, our heroes are not different. Men, Elves, Hobbits, these are creatures of order too. This is why Sauron is capable of dominating them, and why he wants to! It feeds into his distaste for Orcs as well. Kings, thanes, mayors, cities, civilization in general, these are the things from which societies are constructed.

Tom Bombadil is chaos. He is a song echoing through the woods. His marriage to Goldberry is attended by the animals of the forest. When he loses his boat, it is retrieved for him by otters (who forget the oars). He bounces from page to page full of nonsensical rhymes, possessing love for nature and all of the creatures that inhabit it. He's the surprise bluster of a storm that ruins your picnic and the gentle glimmer of sunlight that wakes you the morning after.

Tom provides a necessary dichotomy between the beautiful chaos of the natural world and ordered civilization in a story penned by an author who truly loved the former. There is a reason he was left in the story.

Consider what Glorfindel says about him during the Council of Elrond:

'But in any case,' said Glorfindel, 'to send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil. He is far away. We could not now take it back to him, unguessed, unmarked by any spy. And even if we could, soon or late the Lord of the Rings would learn of its hiding place and would bend all his power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last as he was First; and then Night will come.'

Again, it is the later lines of this excerpt that are most important to me. Tom will fall if all else is conquered. He will fall last as he was first. I do not think that Sauron's personal might or his armies would be capable of felling Tom. I think what Glorfindel is implying that Tom cannot exist in a world where all else has fallen to order and industry. That is why Tom would fall last: there would be nothing left for him in a world of steel and wheels.

Tom Bombadil is an intentional enigma. If you read the text and think that you have no idea who or what he is and what his meaning in the story is meant to be, Tolkien's response is good, you're not supposed to. Sometimes, things don't need to be ordered and sensical to be beautiful.

Hop along, my little friends, Up the Withywindle. Tom's going on ahead, Candles for to kindle. Down west sinks the sun, Soon you will be croakin'. When the night-shadows fall, Then the door will open.

Out of the window-panes, Light will twinkle yellow. Fear no alder black, Heed no hoary willow. Fear neither root nor bough, Tom goes on before you. Hey now, merry dol, We'll be waiting for you.

[thatfancygirlinwhite]

Bowing low, Bombur said, “Thank you for coming, your Highnesses. Your presence here today is a great honour for an establishment as ours, and we’re eternally grateful for the help you’ve given us.” “You’re welcome,” said Kíli very seriously, which was, unfortunately, a misstep.

House of Feathers, Hall of Night, a glimpse into chapter 6...

Working moderately hard on it. I'm hitting a bit of a writer's block with this fic again, but I will do my best to get through it! It's my goal to finish it, once and for all, and I try to keep all of my promises.

What's that? An additional, secret sneak peek?

“Well,” Bilbo said with a mesmerised sigh, “I’ve just always dreamed of Rhudaur.” “There are better places.” They began moving downhill. The bell tower of the almshouse cut through the moon.

Haha, no, it's just a snippet from Dark Eyes Stained Light which I'm working on always in the background, because the story is actually good, guys, I promise, but it's really long and hard to write :) <- face of internal pain

[marta-bee]

I may have been doing a bit of Hobbit-related googling this weekend. The YouTube algorithm gets me.

Seriously you try finding a legible map of Rhudaur online.

[geekashgaming]

My Rhudaur/Angmar 400pt force

[negreabsolut]

Mapa de l'Angle d'Àrnor, entre els rius Mitheíthel (Curs-gris, o Brollgrís) i Bruinen (Aiguabram), i que constituí l'extrem meridional del reialme de Rhudaur. Dibuixat per Pete Fenlon.

[gwaedhannen]

✨ - Worldbuilding or background story elements. (dealer's choice of topic!)

(Unusual headcanon ask game)

Rivendell has always had a decent sized human population, ever since the valley's first days as a hidden shelter, when Eleryn's scouts started returning with survivors of the villages near Eregion that Sauron's armies were pillaging out of boredom.

The population grows over the Second Age. More survivors, residents of Minhiriath and Enedwaith displaced by Númenórean logging and settlements, residents of future-Gondor displaced by Númenórean settlements, escaped slaves from Númenórean colonies (sensing a pattern here?). Valandil's wife (descendant of a noble Númenórean house that lost favor with the King and was exiled to Middle-earth centuries prior) was from that people.

Refugees from the collapses of Rhudaur and Cardolan, as well as those fleeing the various invasions and wars in Rhovanion and Gondor join the population in the Third Age. Though most of the surviving Dúnedain of Arthedain settled in the Angle, some go to Rivendell where their chieftains are raised. Elrond makes sure that his foster-sons play nice with everyone, Dúnedain or not.

Over the main gate of Rivendell, Elrond himself carved a great relief of the coming of Doriath's refugees to the Mouths of Sirion, toddling Elwing at their head, welcomed by the escapees of Dor-lómin and Brethil. He has sought to repay that welcome ever since.

"Wait what about Lindir's line about it being hard to tell the difference between a Man and a Hobbit because all mortals are the same to elves" he's just racist.

[hallothere]

16 for bronagir 👀

16. Wish

The Last Bridge felt exposed, vulnerable in every way he'd been taught to quantify. He supposed it must've been the might of Arnor or Cardolan or even Rhudaur of old that kept brigands and snipers from assailing it. Perhaps now it was... perhaps not the threat, but the power of Elrond of Rivendell that kept the passage safe.

The Trollshaws were a wild place. Untamed somewhat- and unforgotten by most- but wild in the way of dangers and secrets. There were many a tale that had origins in this place. Trolls, naturally, but other strange creatures as well haunted the fireside stories of minstrels and captains alike. Culang liked to spin yarns. He had quite a few to weave ere Bronagir set out on his journey.

Mudfoot was a stout horse and a staunch companion. His origins were humble in name and lineage, but he was a good horse and Bronagir would accept to slight against him. Many a time his own mother had named him Mud-foot in his youth for tracking 'all strains of the earth' through her house. Now, when given a brown horse with browner socks, Bronagir knew what he ought to do.

"I name him Mudfoot," he said to Nat, "so that my mother will be forced to choose another epithet, lest she confuse us."

Yet his heart was filled in melancholy; for Mudfoot meant travel, and travel what his heart desired least.

He left behind his post (though not without leave, and with a mission besides) and friends, and some... Tinnudir had grown dear to him. It might not be very Ranger-like of him, but he felt he belonged in a place called Home. A place he could dwell, yes, but defend also. A place he could nurture. Like many Rangers before him, his heart ached for the days of Kings. The days of purpose bestowed by hand and with aim, not mantle taken up in memory and mourning.

He and Mudfoot found the signs and the trail that would take them south. Calenglad had messages, and in his fey mood sent Bronagir with them. Wroth was his captain and urgent was his charge.

"Why not send Ringlor the swift...?" He mused, mostly to himself though Mudfoot shook out his mane.

On the southern road, he passed the camp at Gaerond and his thoughts wandered to Esteldin, to his mother and sister who would like as anything be headed this way next. The North Downs grew dangerous, as did much of the North.

And yet his heart did not ache for Esteldin. It was his only wish, in fact, to return to the isle on the lake and to sink his cares into the waters his people loved.