#The hobbit was wearing mithril.’

[9ofspades]

No but there should be a rumor that hobbits had sharp teeth and a separate belief that hobbits had night vision and some of the dwarves, upon seeing hobbit teeth, would be like “well now I don’t know what to believe.” Some might even just never have noticed their teeth and have spent the entire time thinking the hobbits wanted to eat second breakfast with their EXTREMELY SHARP TEETH. In the Hobbit, they’d frequently have consulted Bilbo on what’s happening at night or in dark spaces, and Bilbo would be like “oh yes that’s all part of this whole thing where I turned invisible once and now I’m the New Gandalf” and never question it, so the misconception doesn’t get corrected. Later, people are always asking hobbits to open packages, the way you ask that of your friend who always has scissors/a knife on them. Hobbits think it’s because they have a reputation for always being prepared to open parcels of food and never find out it’s because everyone thinks they bite it open with their fangs.

[smolestboop]

you've changed, thorin

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

I usually write and post Undertale fanfiction on a different account, but I kept seeing those time-travel The Hobbit fics and I really liked the premise, so I wrote a small bit of one. I have no idea what else to do with it, soooooo here have the random fic I wrote at like 1 AM.

(Quick disclaimer, I'm not actually super well-versed in Middle-Earth lore. I've read and loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but I haven't gotten around to reading The Silmarillion or anything yet. I probably got some stuff wrong in terms of lore, so sorry about that. This was written for fun and I'm not planning on making it into a longer fic, but I thought I'd share it because why not.)

Bilbo was dead.

He knew he was dead. He had died in the Undying Lands, finally succumbing to the age of his body, surrounded by Frodo and Gandalf and the elves as he drifted off into his very last adventure. He had lived a long life. A good life. One with regrets, of course, but also one with much joy and love.

Hobbit-lore had never said much about their afterlife - not like the lore of elves, dwarves, or even men - but Bilbo had always supposed it would be something like this, the comfort of home. For he had found himself back in his hobbit-hole, back in Bag-End, seated at his table with a lovely-looking tea spread out before him.

His aches, his weariness, were gone. His joints and back moved easily, without any pain to speak of. His eyesight was perfectly clear. Even his bald patches had vanished, his head and feet covered once again in thick bushes of curly hair.

"Why, I don't feel a day over fifty," he marvelled under his breath, grinning a little.

Leaving his food on the table, he explored his home, running his fingers along the backs of chairs and rifling through drawers. Most things were exactly as he remembered it - better, even for he had not seen his silver spoons for decades, yet there they were, sitting neatly with the rest of his cutlery. The only objects unaccounted for were the things from his adventure; Sting, the coat of mithril, the chests of gold and silver, and the ring (he caught himself a moment before thinking 'his ring'). But he had given Sting and the coat to Frodo anyway, the ring had been destroyed, and he didn't suppose he would need gold or silver in the afterlife, so he paid it no mind.

He had just sat back down to his tea when the doorbell rang. He was not expecting visitors, of course, as he had only just gotten to this hobbitish afterlife, but he was not nearly as fussy about that sort of thing as he had once been, so he got to his feet and went to greet his guest.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been a dwarf, and it most certainly hadn't been a very familiar dwarf with a long beard and a dark green hood, worn and stained from travel, his bright eyes glittering from beneath its hem.

The dwarf hopped inside as soon as the door was open, hanging his hooded cloak on one of the pegs, then sweeping into a low bow. "Dwalin at your service!"

Bilbo was frozen, one hand still on the polished brass doorknob, staring at his old friend, who now looked decades younger and was wearing the same clothes he had been the first time they had met.

"Dwalin?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" Even if the dwarf was dead too, he surely wouldn't be here, wherever here was.

Dwalin frowned slightly. "I am here for the meeting, of course."

"Meeting?" he echoed, mystified.

"Yes, the meeting." Dwalin gave him an odd look, as if he should have already known. "And, er, whose service do I have the pleasure of being at?"

Bilbo blinked. "What?"

"Your name," Dwalin elaborated.

After a moment of mutually puzzled silence, Bilbo took a closer look at Dwalin. The clothes. The appearance. The expression, politely confused. Asking for his name.

I don't feel a day over fifty.

He swallowed. "I - Bilbo." Slowly, he bowed. "Mister Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He straightened, gesturing to the hall behind him. "I, uh - I just set out tea. Please, help yourself."

Dwalin nodded, bustling off down the hall. Bilbo did not follow him, but sat down on the ornamental chair by all the hooks and put his head in his hands. This... wasn't possible, was it? He couldn't be back then. He had died, for goodness' sake.

Before he could get very far with his thoughts, the bell rang again. He sprang up, nearly wrenching the door open to reveal an old, red-hooded dwarf, who immediately hopped inside.

"I see they have begun to arrive already," he noted as he hung his hood next to Dwalin's. He then bowed, giving Bilbo an entirely unnecessary introduction.

"Balin, at your service!"

"Bilbo Baggins at yours," Bilbo replied, bowing in return. "Dwalin is inside - please, go join him, I'll bring out more tea. Unless you would prefer a little beer?" he added, remembering his old friend's preferences.

Balin smiled. "Yes, and some seed-cake, if you have any."

"Yes, lots."

Balin set off down the hall to join his brother, and Bilbo went to the pantry to collect the beer and seed-cakes.

Well, that settles it, he thought, a tad grimly. I am back at the very beginning of it all. He wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the prospect, given that he knew what lay ahead, but he resolved to do his very best with this second chance. To make their journey better with his knowledge. Maybe he could even save...

He shook his head and quickly delivered Balin's food and drink, right before the bell rang a third time and he had to rush back to the door.

It was Fili and Kili this time, and Bilbo's heart started aching when he saw them, young and whole and alive, their yellow beards clean of blood and grime, their eyes sparkling and clear.

"Kili at your service!"

"And Fili!"

He took their hoods and bags, setting them carefully to the side, and bowed back, fighting the urge to pull them both into a hug. Somehow, he managed to speak past the lump in his throat. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's."

"Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili cheerfully. "Let us join the throng!"

Bilbo nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. He very firmly set aside his grief, his questions, his racing thoughts, and fixed his mind on the task at hand - namely, preparing enough food, drink, and chairs to host a company of fifteen.

While the four dwarves settled in and got to talking, he hurriedly set out more places at the table, then started raiding his pantry, bringing out everything from the wine to the cheese wheels. Halfway through, the bell rang again, and he practically sprinted to the door - in fact, he got there fast enough that Gloin had only just come puffing up to the doorstep.

Introductions were short, and the five newcomers soon joined the others at the table while Bilbo went back to emptying his pantries before they could do it themselves.

He had almost finished when a loud rapping echoed down the hall, the knock of wood against wood. Bilbo sighed heavily, thinking mournfully of the dent in his nice green door that he had never quite gotten around to fixing, and, whisking one last plate of food onto the table, set off to let his guests inside for the fifth and final time that night.

He made sure to open the door very slowly and carefully, so as not to repeat his mistake from all those years ago and end up with a pile of dwarves on his doormat. This time, all four of them hopped inside without incident, and Gandalf ducked through the doorway a moment later.

"Hello, Bilbo," he greeted with a smile. "I hope you do not mind terribly that I brought guests to our tea."

Bilbo sighed again, casting a glance in the direction of his depleted pantries. "Not at all, Gandalf."

"Excellent!" The wizard clapped his hands. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

There were the usual bows and "At your service"s from Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and none at all from Thorin, not that Bilbo had expected any. He gave all four of them a deep bow in return.

"Bilbo Baggins." He glanced up, meeting Thorin's proud gaze and ignoring the pang of grief, an old, old pain that had never really gone away. "At your service."

Thorin merely turned to toss his sky-blue, silver-tasselled hood onto a hook beside the others.

"Now we are all here!" declared Gandalf, hanging his hat at the end of the row of hoods. "Quite a merry gathering. I hope there is something left for the latecomers to eat and drink!"

"Yes, there's plenty," replied Bilbo, gesturing for the group to follow him down the hall.

Gandalf fell into step beside him, peering curiously down at him. He opened his mouth to ask something, but Bilbo quickly interrupted.

"Be careful of the -"

Thunk.

"Rafters," Bilbo finished with yet another sigh, watching Gandalf rub his head.

"A little low, these ceilings," the wizard commented, grimacing.

"Or maybe you're just a little tall!" called a grinning Fili from the dining room. "We seem to be managing just fine."

"Impertinent dwarf," Gandalf grumbled, hunched over to keep from hitting his head again.

Bilbo darted ahead to pull out a chair for Thorin, the grandest chair he could find in his little hobbit-hole. Thorin paused for a moment, then slowly sank into it, nodding his thanks. Bilbo gave him a quick smile and took his own place at the table, which he had made sure to include this time, as he didn't want to miss out on all the food again.

He wasn't much for conversation, as he didn't want to slip up and reveal all the things he knew, but he didn't bother asking if they would stay for supper after the meal was finished. Already knowing the answer, he just made to collect the plates, and didn't protest when the dwarves sprang up to clear them away instead.

The dishes were soon cleaned and put away, and the dwarves came back to find Bilbo watching Thorin and Gandalf blow smoke-rings around the room.

"Now for some music!" Thorin declared as his company filed into the room, snuffing out his pipe and setting it aside. "Bring out the instruments!"

There was a rush for instruments just as Bilbo remembered, and he sat back in his chair to listen to the dwarves' music. It was enthralling as it had been the first time, and he felt as though he was indeed fifty all over again and feeling a great desire for adventure. He found himself humming quietly along to the familiar tune.

It eventually stopped, of course, once dark had fallen, and Thorin stood to begin his speech.

"Gandalf, dwarves, and Mister Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit - may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to his wine and ale!"

The ache in Bilbo's heart increased upon hearing his friend's typically long-winded beginning, and he barely managed to reply, "You are very kind." His voice came out with a funny choked quality to it, as if he was about to cry. Which was, of course, absurd, he thought as he blinked furiously against his burning eyes.

Thorin stopped, staring at Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "Is something the matter, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo quickly shook his head, scrubbing away the tears that were leaking down his cheeks. "Nothing at all, Thorin," he whispered, unable to help the familiarity that slipped out with his friend's first name. "And, uh -" He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder. "Please, call me Bilbo, all of you. It seems appropriate if we're to - uh, work together."

Slowly, Thorin nodded, although he did not continue with his speech. He just... stared at Bilbo, a puzzled divot between his heavy brows, until Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, worried that he had made a mistake.

"Tell me, Mister Baggi - Bilbo," said Thorin suddenly. "Do you have much experience in the matter of burglary?"

Bilbo felt his lips twist into a humourless smile as images flashed in his mind. A golden cup. A large gemstone that could be called white, if you ascribed the same colour to the stars themselves. Before that, a set of keys, countless morsels of food, even the very dwarves who now sat in his dining room. All done while invisible, of course, but perhaps this time he could be a burglar before he found the ring as well as afterwards. (He was a little reluctant to take possession of the ring again now that he knew what it was, but he also knew that it had been an invaluable asset on their journey, and besides if he hadn't found it, it wouldn't have been destroyed, so he resolved to pick it up again as he had before.)

"Yes. Quite a bit, in fact."

A murmur of surprise went around the room. Even Gandalf's bushy eyebrows raised, although he stayed silent, still puffing on his pipe.

"How about travel?" Thorin asked, evidently set on grilling him now. "Fighting? Sword or axe, what's your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo sighed yet again. "I'm rather skilled at darts, if you must know, and I quite enjoy a good hike now and then," he answered, voice dripping with sarcasm that he never would have dared back at the beginning, but he was rather used to being treated with the indulgence afforded to eccentric elderly folk, so he didn't think much of it at all until Thorin snorted and he realised that the dwarf had taken his words seriously.

Another outbreak of muttering spread throughout the room, and amidst all the questions about his sincerity, he caught the fated words, murmured by Gloin to Oin.

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Bilbo's teeth gritted, and he addressed Thorin again, discarding the sarcasm this time. "In all seriousness, I favour a sword, although seeing how I am not currently in possession of one, the question seems moot."

Thorin looked him up and down, as if trying and failing to imagine him using a sword. "I see."

Electing to ignore the dwarves' doubt, Bilbo stood, heading towards the hallway. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I am going to -" His toes snagged on something, perhaps a hole in the carpet, and he stumbled, a hand darting out to steady himself upon Gandalf, who happened to be the nearest solid object.

"Oh, terribly sorry, Gandalf," apologised Bilbo, looking quite a bit less flustered than one might expect. "As I was saying, I am going to fetch a light. I will return in a moment."

"Excellent idea," replied Gandalf, peering down at Bilbo. The dwarves may not have found his stumble suspicious, but the wizard was well aware of the surefootedness of hobbits and suspected Bilbo to be up to something, which, of course, he was.

At fifty, Bilbo Baggins had been polite to a fault and wholly inexperienced in theft. However, having lived over a hundred and thirty years before his death, he now considered himself a fairly seasoned burglar and quite disliked being doubted or mocked. So when he saw the opportunity to prove himself, he took it, and by the time he returned with a lamp, Gandalf was rifling through his pockets in search of a map he was certain he had had on his person.

Bilbo placed the lamp on the table and tilted his head curiously at the wizard, struggling to conceal a grin. "Is there something wrong, Gandalf?"

Gandalf's shrewd eyes snapped to him, and he gazed intently for a moment or two before explaining, "I seem to have lost a rather important map. You wouldn't happen to have any idea of its whereabouts, would you?"

"Not the foggiest clue," Bilbo replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh - wait, what is this?" With a - perhaps unnecessary - theatrical flourish, he withdrew the map from his waistcoat, holding it up. "Well, it appears it's right here in my pocket. How odd." He dropped it onto the table in front of Gandalf, his grin breaking through his attempted poker face.

Gandalf stared at the map for a few seconds, then chuckled loudly and suddenly, patting Bilbo on the back. "Very impressive, my friend."

Bilbo laughed and went to sit back down, not noticing the suspicious look Gandalf shot him behind his back.

"Now, then," the wizard began, spreading the map out on the table. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin. It is a plan of the Mountain."

Thorin glanced at it, then shook his head, disappointed. "I don't see how this will help us much. I remember the Mountain well enough, and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."

"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," put in Balin. "But it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."

"Unfortunately so," Bilbo murmured to himself, his shoulders curling a little inwards.

"There is one thing you haven't noticed, and that is the secret entrance," pointed out Gandalf. "You see that rune on the west side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

"It may have been secret once," Thorin countered, "but how do we know it remains so? Old Smaug has lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves."

"He may, but he can't have ever used it. It is far too small for him - 'five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, and Smaug couldn't have crept into a hole that size even when he was a young dragon, let alone now, after devouring so many of the dwarves and the men of Dale. In any case, the door should be closed and hidden, made to look exactly like the side of the mountain, and therefore kept secret from the rest of the world, if not from Smaug."

Bilbo leant closer to get a proper look at the map, which he had not seen for decades. The Mountain drawn in dark ink on the paper seemed a lot smaller than the Mountain of his memories.

"Also," Gandalf went on, "I forgot to mention that with the map came a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" He presented it to Thorin, a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, flashing silver in the lamplight. "Keep it safe!"

"Indeed I will," replied Thorin, taking the key and fastening it upon the fine gold chain that hung around his neck. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea of what to do. We thought of going east, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake -"

Bilbo had heard Thorin's ramblings before, of course, and if this was an ordinary meeting with friends, he would have tuned him out. However, he was acutely aware of just how precious his time here was - every second with Thorin and Fili and Kili alive, every second with the others smiling and in good cheer, every second unburdened by deep, heavy grief - so he listened quietly to the voice he'd spent so many years missing.

"- but we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the south of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too - far too often, unless he has changed his habits."

"That would be no good," added Gandalf. "Not without a mighty warrior, even a hero. I tried to find one, but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood, heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; dragons are comfortably far-off, and therefore legendary. That is why I settled on burglary - especially when I remembered the existence of a side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans."

"Very well, then," agreed Thorin. "Supposing the burglar gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned to Bilbo with mock politeness, although it was a bit less mocking than it had been the first time around.

Bilbo drew himself up, meeting Thorin's gaze with a determined look. He was the only one there who knew what was in store, and over the course of the night, he had come to the decision that he meant to bring them all through the journey and out the other side alive and more or less intact, if at all possible. "Certainly, Thorin," he answered briskly. "I should think that we ought to focus on actually getting there and finding the side-door before we worry about dealing with much else. I take it there is quite a lot of treasure?" he added, although he already knew.

Thorin nodded. "Yes, halls upon halls of it."

"It will be impossible for me to move it all by myself. I will be able to perhaps steal one or two pieces before the dragon notices us, so I would suggest you give some thought as to which pieces you should like." A large white gem glimmered in his mind again before he pushed the image away and forged on, ignoring the echoes of dread. "I would also suggest -" His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his words steady. "I would also suggest that we take a moment to consider the possibility of things such as dragon-sickness, and how it may be overcome once the Mountain is in our possession."

"Sage advice," said Gandalf approvingly, filing away his suspicion to deal with later and patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

Bilbo threw him a quick smile, though he was unable to hide the hint of tiredness to it. He found that he didn't particularly want to speak of their journey anymore, not with the knowledge of what was to come weighing on him, heavy as a sack of dragon-guarded gold.

"And, well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I would appreciate some help with breakfast tomorrow, if anyone would be so kind."

"You're the host, are you not?" replied Thorin, raising a dark, heavy brow. "But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like six eggs with my ham when starting on a journey - fried, not poached, and mind you don't break 'em."

Bilbo crossed his arms, staring at the dwarf expectantly, until Thorin reluctantly added, "Please."

Bilbo nodded and grabbed a small notebook that had been laying on the mantlepiece, quickly jotting down Thorin's preferred breakfast. "Anyone else?"

The dwarves and Gandalf all ordered their breakfasts, and Bilbo managed to get a 'please' from every one of them. Afterwards, he had to find places for all of them to sleep, which was thankfully a much shorter affair than last time, as he had his previous experiences to go by. He did have to dig extra blankets out of the linen cupboard, and set several dwarves and Gandalf (who was much too tall for his spare beds) up on couches and chairs, but he eventually got them all stowed away and retired to his own little bed. The shock of finding himself back in the past, along with having to host thirteen dwarves and a wizard, had left him rather exhausted, despite the renewed strength of his younger body. Before he collapsed into bed, he remembered to leave a sliver of his curtains unclosed, so that he would be awoken by the rays of dawn.

He fell asleep to the sound of Thorin's humming from the bedroom next to his, and this time, it was comforting.

The Hobbit was created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

[mightnotfeelrealbutitsok]

just quickly imagining if Bilbo died instead of Thorin

Here is a broken king. Kings aren’t supposed to be broken, not ones who have toiled and led to regain their kingship, and teetered on the brink of insanity for the sake of it, then fought unfathomable battles. But here is a broken king of that kind. His followers sometimes think there was more king in him before he claimed his title, when he was empowered by embitterment and ambition and he fearlessly sought what his ancestors had lost. He found it but it seems there was a cost. All the wealth of golden halls and the joy of feasts and songs and the pride of the mountain can’t counter it.

He sits on his throne and there’s something vacant in his face. Some believe it’s the Arkenstone; who could be a true king without it? They blame him for leaving his quest half-completed and not taking back that one key article. There was uproar when it went down into the tombs. Why surrender something so hard won? It glimmers useless in the cavernous grey of those deep chambers, while the king keeps his convictionless eyes. Maybe it was a sacrifice of some sort, to honour his forefathers by sharing in their loss. He did not want to be greater than his own father who was made by his own strength, not the stone.

Something else was buried, though few dwarves remember. The stone doesn’t lie unclaimed in the tombs, rather it adorns a certain coffin, laid grandly upon a certain chest. It is strange for such a creature to be valued, not one of their own kind. He is exceptionally small in stature, looking somewhat rough and dirty, but beardless, and wearing alien, unkempt clothes. A hobbit, it is said, and it is a race hardly heard of in the lonely mountain. The one connection between this poor being and the tradition of the tombs it rests in is a coat of chainmail it still wears, since before its death. Mithril is of the highest value amongst the dwarves and yet this precious coat is abandoned down under the floors, left with its brief owner. It is unfortunate that the coat didn’t offered the desired protection; the metal was impenetrable, but the flesh of the neck where the orc struck was none the better for it.

What kind of lines can be drawn between a buried outsider and the distant ways of a king? He wanders his halls with something weighing on him, and in his eyes there can be seen glimpses of a desperation, a wish that he was not there. He is powerful but he has gone quiet. There is the sense that something was cut out of him and he lives with the chronic pain of absence. Few know he loved the hobbit and can’t live with himself for having lost him.

[erendur]

Whose mithril shirt are Bilbo/Frodo wearing ?

We are told in The Hobbit that it was made for an "elf-prince", of which we also know there aren't that many, so that leaves (explanations below the poll) :

Eärendil : this one is kind of my favourite option, given that we are told in The Fall of Gondolin that his parents had a mail-shirt made for him. They aren't strapped for cash so could easily have splashed on a mithril shirt, especially since Idril was full of foreboding about the fall of the city and Tuor was literally told by a Vala that the city was going to fall. So this would have been money well invested. They could have had it made in-house. How did it end up in Smaug's hoard ? I see several options there : a) in the confusion of the attack, which happened during a festival, there was no time to go back home and put the shirt on, instead Eärendil was sent straight to the escape tunnel, the shirt was later on stolen during the plunder of the city and somehow made its way to Erebor ; b) much more unlikely, the shirt was cast away and abandoned on the long march fleeing Gondolin ; c) the shirt, given its value, was exchanged once in Sirion against supplies (Eärendil had outgrown it), maybe directly with dwarves, and made its way to Erebor ; d) the shirt was kept in Sirion for Eärendil's descendants as a family heirloom but plundered and bartered after the massacre there.

2. Elrond/Elros : two options there : two shirts were ordered for them by their parents and either were never delivered because of massacre, or were delivered but did not have time to be put on in confusion of massacre, and were latter plundered (or their parents chose their favourite child and decided he would be the one with the shirt). Extremely unlikely but the shirt could have been ordered by M&M for their favourite peredhel (Elrond. They were low on cash and ordered just the one shirt for Elrond), but they were overtaken by Silmaril lust before the goods could be delivered.

3. Dior : another pair of not-strapped-for-cash parents, they could have had one made ? Maybe ? Even though when Dior was a child they were living in their own little earthly paradise and being very much left alone ? So maybe Dior had actually a series of them (for different ages) and maybe they all ended up in hoards ? Or it was later on taken to Menegroth, of which more below.

4. Elured/Elurin : Dior took the throne minus The Girdle, he was not strapped for cash, so it would have made sense to have some protective equipment made for his sons. Once again, these could have been left unworn in the confusion of the sudden attack and later on plundered /just one shirt made for the favourite child or two shirts made but one ended up lost, melted for mithrill, cut up into pieces, etc.

5. Elrohir/Elladan : highly unlikely but they are elven princes so I included them. The shirt(s) could have been ordered by Elrond but then, bam !, dragon happening and so on. Elrond is way too classy to point out to Bilbo that the shirt he is wearing was actually ordered (and paid for) by him.

6. Gil-Galad : depending on what age/parentage you imagine him to be. He is an Elven prince (maybe). He is associated with the colour silver. He had to flee to Cirdan. He could have left his shirt behind.

7. Maeglin : not technically a prince, but his father bowed to no one, had dwarven connections and a serious penchant for violence. Could have had a shirt made for his son before he considered trying to kill him, and the shirt could have been plundered from Eöl's place after his death.

8. A gift from Galadriel for a potential Finrod baby : This comes from the fact that a known hoard and source of plunder is Nargothrond. Galadriel seemed to have had a bad case of "Auntie fever" in the Silm, and badgers Finrod to marry and have kids (he says no because he has a stupid oath of his own to make instead). But she could have tried to tempt him further by having a pretty baby mithril shirt made (sex and reproduction being the same thing for Elves as per LaCE, the most potent Elf aphrodisiac is shiny baby clothes - they just can't resist it)... So the shirt ended up in Nargothrond, and was plundered later on, tada !

9. A gift from Finrod to Galadriel for a potential baby : she badgered him to marry and have children, and according to some versions of the Legendarium Galadriel remained bethroted to Celeborn for most of the First Age and only married him after the fall of Doriath, so maybe Finrod could have tried some Elf aphrodisiac of his own to try and get his little sister to finally get married and give him some nephews and nieces. He had the dwarven connections. He liked jewellery. He had the shirt made but did not have time to give her the gift before he died.

10. Legolas : Unlikely, but he's an Elf prince. His father likes fancy stuff. His grandfather much less so, hence the move to Greenwood, so the mithrill shirt would have been out of character there. They have terrible relations with the dwarves (better before the whole Smaug business though, but still as Doriath Elves they are not on super good terms). So who knows. War-traumatized Thranduil might have ordered it before Smaug's attack. Unlike Elrond, he kind of strikes me as the guy who would mention it, though.

11. Celebrimbor : he was already an adult when he moved to Middle-Earth so wouldn't have worn the shirt there, but might have been the right age when his grandad, aka the best Elven-smith ever, was taken by "making weapons fever". Fëanor could have made the beautiful shirt for a young Telpe. Either him or Curufin then brought it with them during the Exile because it was a masterpiece and a family heirloom. It could have ended up being plundered from sacked Eregion. It could have been found on Curufin's dead body at Doriath (he kept it with him in memory of his son and carried it with him to Doriath because he knew he was going to die there). If we want to go very goth and dark, it could have been stolen from Curvo's tomb if he was buried with it (I like it !)

12. It wasn't made for an Elf-prince at all : nobody really knows for whom it was made. It looked very fancy, so Thorin just assumed it had been made for "an elf Prince", without giving it further thought. He just meant a super fancy Elf, not necessarily a prince. Could well have been made for someone else (a fancy Numenorean ? A fancy Man ? A fancy hobbit ?).

Or just, Jirt wrote The Hobbit way before the Silm and did not think that he was then going to write a prequel for which he would also write extensive side-notes in which he was going to say that there were very few Elf-prince babies born after the Exile.

[hard-times-paramore]

LotR OC, everyone!

Name: Aster Coltsfoot

Age: 42 (born 27th April T.A. 2976)

Height: 94cm (3'1")

Weight: 24,6kg (54lbs)

Appearance: warm brown skin, black eyes. Chin-lenght light brown hair in tight curls. Round and plump like a Hobbit should be. Wears skirts and sweater vests, usually in yellows, sepias or greens.

Personality: warm, bookish, intellectual, and generally cheerful.

Lore dump under the cut!

Aster lives in Michel Delvin, located in the Shire's Westfarthing, where she works as the curator of the Mathom-House.

Her grandfather was a Brandybuck, who came from the other side of the Brandywine River to settle with his wife in the little town. Aster realized she must've inherited her restlessness and curiosity about the world from him.

She was still a Hobbit, however, comfortable in the world she had been raised in, and besides, adventurous tendencies were frowned upon among hobbitkind. To satisfy her spirit, she turned to history and records, undertaking apprenticeship under the then curator of the Mathom-House. In time, she was promoted, becoming the next curator. The stories she read and documented of the items she kept were enough to quench her thirst for adventure - after all, is it not best to experience the wonders of the world from the comfort of one's own home?

That was her snug life, until the mysterious vanishing of Bilbo Baggins, the richest man in the Shire, in his 111st birthday. Considered by many as an eccentric, but quietly admired by Aster, he had, in the past, donated his Mithril coat to the Mathom-House.

She thought that would have been just another memory he left behind, but one day, decades later, she received a letter from Rivendell, in which the missing person, Mr. Baggins himself, asked the curator to have his Mithril brought to him where he stayed, with utmost secrecy.

Years later, the woman would wonder why didn't Bilbo recover the piece and took it along with him before setting off on his journey. She came to the conclusion he had done it for her sake: that he suspected she had her own desire for an adventure and gave her a chance to experience it.

Though unaware, Aster still accepted the opportunity. To the displeasure of her neighbors, she dressed in practical clothes and set out to travel to the elven city, with the Mithril in her possession.

The woman, by then, already had her own apprentice, a bright young man named Bugle Brookburrows. He was not yet an adult, but seeing as she had taught him well, she found fit to leave the Mathom-House in his care while she went on her little journey - which, she believed wouldn't take over 20 days to go and another 20 to come back from.

[thewitchkingiscool-ace]

Why can’t i be bilbo baggins

Why can’t i go on adventures with the company of thorin oakenshield

Why can’t i be practically married to thorin

Why can’t i be hugged by thorin after saving his life

Why can’t i be given a mithril shirt that’s worth more than the shire and is the second most valuable thing in erebor

Why can’t thorin be in love with me

Why can’t i go on awesome adventures with dwarves that are cool as fuck and are like the purest souls ever

Why can’t i yell at the sackville-bagginses and complain about my neighbours but also be a rlly respected hobbit

Why can’t i just be a hobbit

Why can’t i sneak around wearing a ring and pull pranks on people

Why can’t that be me

I would give all the money i own to trade souls with bilbo

He’s so fucking lucky and is the sassiest little king in the whole world

Why can’t i be ✨Barrel-rider ✨

Why can’t i live in a cosy little hole in the ground and sit late at night by the fire cooking a nice warm soup with a cup of ale or tea with my furry hobbit feet up on a foot rest

Why can’t i spend hours in my study writing about my sick as hell adventures and reminisce about all the good things and definitely not get sad about a certain something that definitely didn’t happen

Why can’t i be some cool uncle with amazing stories and sit telling children about trolls turning to stone and be like a celebrity in the shire

Why can’t I live in bag-end

Why can’t i be so loved in my village that the entire fucking lot come to my birthday party

Why can’t i stand up in front of them like a god calling them all by their surnames and hearing them cheer with pride at the mention of their heritage

Why, oh why, can’t i be bilbo baggins

[lazywitchling]

Under the cut because it’s long:

Okay so now here’s the thing. I will forever mourn that the scene of Aragorn and the Palantir was not in the theatrical edition. Because it absolutely needed to be. If I’m remembering the theatrical edition correctly, we go from Aragorn suggesting ding-ding-ditch with Sauron, being told he won’t go for that, and saying “I think he will”, and then immediately cutting to a shot of his chest with the White Tree of Gondor on it, signaling that he’s Ready To Be King and that he’s Taking Responsibility and whatever. He has a look of grim determination, ready to take on this challenge.

But in the extended edition, we go from “I think he will” to a scene where Aragorn deliberately picks up the Palantir to challenge Sauron. Faces off against him to say “Hey bitch, I got the sword that defeated you, I got the throne, and I’m coming for you in this Epic Combat For The Ages.” And Sauron, who is very aware what genre he’s in, is thinking to himself haha, finally our epic showdown where I win. And he shows Aragorn a vision of Arwen dead, which Aragorn had been fearing this whole time. Aragorn drops the Palantir, backs up, and the Evenstar necklace drops off of him and shatters on the floor.

When we cut to the shot of his chest, we’re no longer looking at the White Tree crest, but at the fact that the necklace isn’t there. And his look of “grim determination” looks more like a man who has lost every hope he had and is just going through the motions, heading off to a suicide mission.

I am forever upset that the scene was deleted from theatrical release, because it absolutely enhances what happens next:

They march on the gate. They are going to die. Their forces have been devastated by Pellenor Fields. They’re knocking on the door of Sauron’s entire military forces. This is a for certain TPK, and everyone involved knows it. They’re doing it anyway, because even though they’re all going to die, the fact that they rang the front doorbell means that Sauron isn’t watching the back window, where Frodo and Sam are sneaking in. That’s all that matters.

And then the gate opens and the Mouth of Sauron appears. He shows that he has Frodo’s mithril shirt.

There is. no way. they could have got that shirt without Frodo being dead. Which also means that Sauron has the ring.

They lost. 100%. There’s the proof. He’s looking at it. Frodo’s dead, the Fellowship failed, Sauron has won, and for certain the future is now the slaughter and enslavement of everyone in Middle-Earth. The “Game Over” overlay shows up. They’re done.

And now it’s basically Sauron laughing at and taunting Aragorn. You have nothing. You’ve lost everything. What is there to fight for? What do you have left?

If you’ve been following my Hobbit Day posting, you might know the answer.

“I’ve got one hit point left. >:)”

Aragorn turns to his friends. Smiles. Says: “For Frodo.”

And just charges the BBEG.

This is what I’m talking about with Tolkien’s brand of hope. It’s not bright shiny “everything will work out! Teehee!”

It’s “For Frodo.”

Read: “Fuck it. I have one hit point, it’s still my turn, and I still have my action.”

I’ll relate it to the moment that you always remember from these movies: Sam carrying Frodo up the mountain.

Sam is trying to get Frodo to have even a shred of hope. But Frodo can’t. He’s done. He’s spent. He’s got no more fight in him to give.

It’s Frodo saying “I can’t. I only have one hit point left.”

And Samwise Gamgee says “That’s okay. Because I still have one hit point left.”

“I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”

That’s Tolkien’s hope. Not “it gets better”, but “I’m not fucking dead yet.”

EDIT: and btw, since I’m on about my Boromir feelings today - Aragorn is in red and blue like Boromir used to wear.

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 2, chapter 5 - The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm

"Frodo thought of... Balin's visit to the Shire long ago." -- did he already live in Bag End then? did Frodo know Balin??

Quick look on the internet: no, he wasn't yet born then.

Orcs having scimitars... oh, Tolkien, please don't do the eastern-coding; it feels weird... Saying this as someone who's country had been at war with the Turks more than once (though it was with grudging respect on both sides, I guess, but that's a digression)

Legolas and Gimli echoing the book of Marzabul... "They are coming!", "We cannot get out".... interesting...

The passage with Gandalf trying to hold the door closed, and the Balrog trying to get it to open (both through power, not physical force), and the door just bursting into pieces has always made me think that what happened with Beleriand isn't such a mystery.

Aragorn seems to take back his words that the hobbits would not survive a life like his upon learning Frodo is still alive. Frodo is, in all honesty, wearing the mithril shirt, but hobbits are indeed made of sterner stuff.

"of man-shape maybe, yet greater" certainly does not imply a Balrog is the size of a man, the opposite. I don't know why it's used as an argument to say they are.

Aragorn and Boromir not heeding Gandalf and trying to help him fight the Balrog never ceases to amaze me. I could excuse Boromir not understanding just how big a threat it is. But raised-in-Rivendell Aragorn?

[conundrumoftime]

6 and 8? Sorry if they got asked!

they haven't (but even for ones that have I am never short of things to babble about from my WIPs!)

6. Every December sky must lose its faith in leaves: is a Galadriel/Celeborn Silmarillion fic which I have written about 5000 words of so far, mainly set in the immediate aftermath of the Second Kinslaying with Celeborn and Galadriel getting 3-year-old Elwing (and the Silmaril she's carrying) to safety in Sirion but with some scenes back from when they first met.

8. Five Elven children who wore Bilbo's mithril shirt - specifically the one he gives to Frodo, which Aragorn calls "a pretty hobbit-skin to wrap an elven-princeling in". And why does anyone make mithril armour for a child? I'm guessing for the same reasons some medieval princes had armour made to fit them as 5-year-olds: it's symbolic, it's a way to show off power and wealth, it's a way to establish in the eyes of the people that this kid right here is going to be someone who you should follow in future, it's a way to establish for the little prince himself what being a prince in this era means.

So this is five ficlets about five elf children who might have worn it and why it was made for them: Gil-galad, Legolas, Celeborn, Maeglin, and Celebrían. With a possible bonus "and one who didn't wear it" of Elrond.

[WIP titles game]

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

-The Best of Intentions-

***********************

This is my first jump into the Tolkien/Hobbit/LOTR fandom.
Its been a while since I've written anything fun for myself. I recently reread The Hobbit an LOTR books, then proceeded to binge watch the Hobbit, followed by LOTR and then subsequently The Rings of Power. All those feelings I had as a pre teen reading the books and then the even stronger love/hate feels after BOTFA was released have led me to this moment of jumping back into my love of creative writing feet first . 
And here we go!


**I Do not own nor claim to own any of J.R.R Tolkien's work or characters. 
Reviews are appreciated. 


Chapter 1

***
The chest pain was acute and constant with each inhale. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling the leafy concoction of Gandalfs pipe gave him. The pain was worth it, eager to ease the pain and numb it. He couldn't help the shudder his body released when he finally exhaled, his eyes still closed as he leaned back against the destroyed wall of the rampart behind him. He let the feeling of the smoky substance seep into his weary body.


Gandalf chuckled as he reached to retrieve his pipe that the exhausted and beat up dwarf king offered back to him. "Oin would not be pleased seeing you all out here with me."


"He can go kiss a troll." Thorin quipped, his voice deep and slow, eyes still closed.


Gandalf's mouth twitched humorously as he heard the dwarves to his right snicker at their King's retort.

He felt a nudge against his right arm, "Care to pass that along?" Fili held out his hand, eager for the same reprieve his uncle was currently enjoying.


Gandalf shook his head and chuckled, taking a quick puff of his own pipe before passing it down to the younger dwarf.


"Share brother." Kili groaned as he adjusted how he sat against the demolished wall.


"Wait your turn. You weren't stabbed then tossed off a bloody cliff." Fili ground out before he took a deep inhale from the pipe.


"Attempted stabbing." Kili corrected, "And I caught you, lest you forget that. Nearly tore my arms from my body. One would think you were a bloody rock troll with how much you weigh."


Fili rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, his body slowly relaxing. He grimaced slightly as his back twinged, reminding him of the ugly black bruise that covered the left side of his back. "Oh he tried all right. The mithril might have saved my skin but my back is screaming at me. I can barely move."


"Be glad lad, tha means yer alive. Thank the Valar we all decided to wear mithril mail before we joined the battle." Dwalin grunted roughly, still trying to calm the storm of emotion that stormed turbulently inside his gut. Only his eyes betrayed him to those who were closest to him, how terrified he had been that he nearly lost his closest companions to their sworn enemy just mere hours before.


Kili was wracked with a coughing fit, not anticipating Gandalf's pipe to contain a stronger substance he was used to. His eyes started to water as he held out the pipe to the bald, battle scarred warrior sitting next to him. "Here." He wheezed. "Don't be like that."


"Thank Mahal! There you are! Bilbo and I have been searching everywhere for you!" Balin exclaimed, his exasperation obvious. "You were supposed to be in the infirmary getting seen to. We need to make sure your injuries are cleared. Oin is fit to be tied."


"He has more pressing injuries to see to." Thorin growled. "We are fine. We will wait until every other warrior is seen to."


"Aule preserve me." Balin grumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "At the very least let someone look you over. I don't want you bleeding out from some unseen wound."


"My mithril mail prevented any fatal injury. I am just bruised."


"Internal bleeding is nothing to scoff at." Balin ground back, his jaws clenched in frustration. "Give your kin this one peace of mind."


Thorin sighed, only to wince as his ribs protested the movement. "So be it." He conceded. His cerulean eyes opened slowly, slightly misty from the affects of the wizards pipe. "Come boys. let us prove that we are not the dead walking."


Balin let out a sigh in relief as he watched the king and his nephews get up, stiff and slow. Dwalin got up as well, slower than he normally would have. He would have to make sure his brother took time to be checked by a healer as well. Lost in his worrisome thoughts, he failed to hear Bilbo approach him. "Oh good, you found them. Are they coming willingly or am I going to have to go fetch Dain to drag them in?"


Balin huffed, his humor shallow and fleeting. "They are coming of their own volition. Probably because he's too exhausted to put up a real fight."


Bilbo's gaze fell upon Gandalf, who continued to sit against the crumbled rampart and puff on his pipe as he stared out into the battlefield.

Those who were able were respectfully moving the bodies of the deceased dwarves, elves and men away from the foul bodies of the orcs and goblins. Despite the cool breeze coming down from the mountain side, the stench of death hung heavy around them. Gandalf knew they narrowly won the battle, and it was sorely won. So many innocent lives cut short, death dealt quickly on swift wings. He also knew this was only the beginning. Despite the victory this day held, the darkness was encroaching upon them. Time was now bought, but paid for dearly. He could only hope they would have a reprieve from the evils he knew were ahead.


"Gandalf?"


Bilbo had approached the wizard quietly, concern seemingly a permanent look etched into his face. So much had happened in the past 6 months, how did he ever think this quest wasn't going to change him?


"Yes Master Baggins?" Gandalf spoke out of the corner of his mouth, the pipe stem still fixed between his lips.


"The quest … Its done is it not? Thorin and his people have claimed their mountain. We have defeated the orcs, Azog is dead at Thorin's hand…" Bilbo rambled, his hand gesturing dramatically as if personally checking off tasks on a to-do list.


"It is done for today, yes. And perhaps tomorrow, a week, a month or even years from now."


Bilbo's eyebrows furrowed. "I feel as if you are insinuating that this peace is not made to last?"


They both sat in silence for a moment, watching Gandalf's smoke rings drift off to be swept away on the breeze. "Not only is this Thorin's victory, but all of Middle Earths against the one who seeks to destroy all." Gandalf paused, carefully considering his words. "This is only the beginning. And now our dear King Under the Mountain is in his rightful place to help keep that evil at bay. He has a long, hard won path ahead of him."


Bilbo swallowed the dread that had settled thick against his Adam's apple. "Then we must make sure he has all the support he needs."


Gandalf smiled, despite the severity that hung thick around them like a fog. "Yes, Master Baggins. I have no doubts that he will have just that. And more if I'm not mistaken. All in good time." 
*********


[anythingbyadriannelenker]

favorite things that happened when i made my friends watch lotr for the first time: fellowship edition

"ITS 3 HOURS AND 40 MINUTES???"

everyone bursting into laughter anytime frodo appears on screen. everytime.

cheers when sam first appeared

"elijah wood really delivered every line with the utmost importance"

one person laughing hysterically when pippin says "you'll have to send us back home tied up in a sack to stop us." or really when pippin says anything.

"i wanna make a gandalf big naturals edit of this movie" "gandalf big what?"

"i have seen cunt served thrice so far. once when aragorn is sitting in the bar. once when gandalf uses the scary wizard speech. once when frodo opens his shirt to reveal the gay ass mithril shirt."

"you cannot tell me that is not a lesbian. tell me you have never seen a lesbian wear that exact outfit with that exact haircut" "i have seen you wear that exact outfit with that exact haircut"

"i'm pretty sure some lesbians have taken a photo of frodo with them to the hairdressers before."

going back to replay low opacity elrond for everyone again

"give him some goddamn chapstick oh my god"

the SCREAMS when bilbo jumpscare

*legolas enters* "hes soooo pretty oh my god"

"ok but why are the hobbits there?" *pauses movie and stands in front of screen* "SO tolkien served in WWI--"

me geeking out during any cool special effects scene i.e.: "this bridge scene was super revolutionary at the time! that is entirely cgi !!!!"

a few of us nearly crying when gandalf dies

"haha this reminds me of the merry and pippin have a gun thing you sent me" "THEY HAVE A GUN???"

me and my other lotr friend nearly crying when boromir dies. and then basically crying holding hangs while frodo saves sam.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's Finish (re)Reading the Hobbit!

Well, here we are folks. It's been fun rereading this book; last time I read it was before the Dark Times. I think it's pretty goofy, but most of Bilbo's adventures are pretty fun! Let's wrap this up, shall we?

Next day the trumpets rang early in the camp. Soon a single runner was seen hurrying along the narrow path.

No word as to how heavily armored he was to dodge Thorin's temper.

“I gave it to them!” squeaked Bilbo, who was peering over the wall, by now in a dreadful fright.

Bilbo, what on Arda are you doing with this confession?

“Never again will I have dealings with any wizard or his friends. What have you to say, you descendant of rats?”

Well Thorin, you're not wrong. Unfortunately, you've learned an incredibly valuable lesson too late and will soon die for having dealt with them.

“Get down now to your friends!” he said to Bilbo, “or I will throw you down.” “What about the gold and silver?” asked Bilbo.

Seriously it's hilarious that they're all standing in the presence of the ultimate corrupter of free people and all they can do is squabble over a bunch of shiny rocks. It's also hilarious that Bilbo's gotten to the point where he can answer death threats with demands for payment.

“Be off!” called Thorin. “You have mail upon you, which was made by my folk, and is too good for you. It cannot be pierced by arrows; but if you do not hasten, I will sting your miserable feet. So be swift!”

Every messenger in Laketown hastened off on a quest to find mithril armor to avoid dealing with Thorin's lethal temper.

The dwarves are exceedingly strong for their height, but most of these were strong even for dwarves.

Well they'd have to be, sneaking around all through the night in steel mail.

These were, in fact, precisely their plans (for the raven-messengers had been busy between Thorin and Dain); but for the moment the way was barred, so after angry words the dwarf-messengers retired muttering in their beards.

Bard gets points for not shooting any messengers. Seriously Thorin, wtf? Why is this your only move?

But he reckoned without the dwarves.

Thranduil: thwarting literally everyone within a mile's radius whether he means to or not.

Alas! it has come more swiftly than I guessed.

"I didn't think that the goblins would get here for another half hour! I was gonna do some fireworks and seem really awesome!"

Then they learned of the death of Smaug, and joy was in their hearts

Good job, Gandalf. You were all, "I'm worried that the Necromancer is gathering power and making a serious move. Smaug is a potential ally and too dangerous to be left alone, so I'll take him out. Absolutely nothing bad will happen, or my name isn't Gandalf" and you forgot that just because that's what hobbits call you doesn't mean it's actually your name.

“To the Mountain!” called Bard. “To the Mountain! Let us take our places while there is yet time!”

And then Thorin shot them all and the goblins took the mountain. The end.

A magic ring of that sort is not a complete protection in a goblin charge, nor does it stop flying arrows and wild spears; but it does help in getting out of the way, and it prevents your head from being specially chosen for a sweeping stroke by a goblin swordsman.

Silly Tolkien, I'm pretty sure he spent two or three hours being super cinematic while Legolas sniped fifty thousand gobbos while wearing hover boots!

Already many of the goblins were flying back down the river to escape from the trap; and many of their own wolves were turning upon them and rending the dead and the wounded.

Ah yes, the old expression, lie down with wolves, don't wake up at all because you're in their stomach. This battle is where it came from!

They had forgotten Thorin!

It says a good deal about the battle strategy of everyone involved in this battle that thirteen extra combatants turned the tide of war.

Down, heedless of order, rushed all the dwarves of Dain to his help. Down too came many of the Lake-men, for Bard could not restrain them; and out upon the other side came many of the spearmen of the elves.

Isn't this the sort of thing that loses battles? Not an expert so I'm genuinely asking.

...and poor old Bombur, and Balin and Fili and Kili and all the rest come to a bad end...

At this point I'm trying to remember the last time the Professor or Mary-Ann were mentioned by name. I want to say it must have been several chapters ago.

Gandalf, too, I may say, was there, sitting on the ground as if in deep thought, preparing, I suppose, some last blast of magic before the end.

Probably hurriedly revising his latest draft of Hobbit Facts in the hopes that the ravens would ensure its survival.

“The Eagles!” cried Bilbo once more, but at that moment a stone hurtling from above smote heavily on his helm, and he fell with a crash and knew no more.

Guess Tolkien was more of a Rolling Stones fan.

There was no call and no echo of a song. Sorrow seemed to be in the air.

We've gotten too serious for song now that we're past the battle.

You would have been numbered among the dead, who are many, if Gandalf the wizard had not said that your voice was last heard in this place.

"They aren't dead if you can still hear their voices, that's a Hobbit Fact!"

"That's an everyone fact."

- an unseen exchange between Gandalf and Balin.

Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate.

I'm gonna be honest, this is such an abrupt turn over such a dangerous artifact that I don't even buy it as a deathbed revelation. Gandalf gave him the Wormtongue treatment while Bilbo was out.

So they too had gathered in great numbers, under the great Eagle of the Misty Mountains; and at length smelling battle from afar they had come speeding down the gale in the nick of time.

Note that the Eagles only get particularly involved in this brouhaha because it starts on their home turf. This is one of the many parts of the answer to that all important, "WhY dIdN't ThEy JuSt FlY tHe EaGlEs To MoRdOr?" question.

In that last hour Beorn himself had appeared—no one knew how or from where.

"Yeah this situation required multiple deus ex machinas to resolve so I'm not even gonna TRY to explain all of them, y'know?"

“I am sorry. I mean, I should have liked to see them again,” said Bilbo sleepily; “perhaps I shall see them on the way home. I suppose I shall be going home soon?”

Yeah bro, the book's almost over. If you don't get home soon, you don't get home at all!

“May it bring good fortune to all his folk that dwell here after!”

Wish granted. Unfortunately, anyone who leaves is cursed, just ask the Moria expedition.

In the end he would only take two small chests, one filled with silver, and the other with gold, such as one strong pony could carry.

It'll be a miracle if that pony survives the week judging by everything thus far.

“If ever you are passing my way,” said Bilbo, “don’t wait to knock! Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time!”

And the neighbors would be very uncomfortable about it, the racists.

“May you ever appear where you are most needed and least expected! The oftener you appear in my halls the better shall I be pleased!”

AKA, "I don't ever expect to see you again."

Beorn indeed became a great chief afterwards in those regions and ruled a wide land between the mountains and the wood

I gotta say that Tolkien seems way more into Beorn than his story exactly has room for. Dude ends up being a king despite having a very minor role and no real justification for being in the ending at all.

The Tookish part was getting very tired, and the Baggins was daily getting stronger.

There's really only so much adrenaline that you can burn through before you're ready for a nap.

It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House.

Rivendell is apparently a metaphor for communism, which is quite odd considering all the feudalism we just spent the last chapter celebrating!

The stars are far brighter Than gems without measure, The moon is far whiter Than silver in treasure; The fire is more shining On hearth in the gloaming Than gold won by mining

Again we're just outright stating our themes here, though I suppose Elrond not actively sitting Bilbo down and explaining the moral of the story to him means this is subtle for a kids' book.

It appeared that Gandalf had been to a great council of the white wizards, masters of lore and good magic; and that they had at last driven the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood.

Even ignoring the color confusion, there's not really a council of white wizards at this point. Gandalf and Saruman are still for the cause at least nominally but Radagast has fucked off with his rabbits or what have you and the blues have been stuck in a plot hole for the last few hundred years. Galadriel and Elrond aren't really wizards, but of the many things you can fault the films for, their being the rest of the council isn't one of them because there's literally no one else.

“It would be well indeed,” said Elrond; “but I fear that will not come about in this age of the world, or for many after.”

Dramatic irony! On an elvish timescale, this is rather like saying, "This border gate between Austria and Hungary won't make much difference. The Iron Curtain will divide Europe for centuries to come," and then watching the Berlin Wall fall three months later.

“Well, Merry People!” said Bilbo looking out. “What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you.”

Two songs in one chapter! Tolkien is really making up for lost time here, and for all the serious chapters. It really is a shame he died before the rap battle, or he could have had his cake and eaten it too.

After a week, therefore, he said farewell to Elrond, and giving him such small gifts as he would accept, he rode away with Gandalf.

"Thanks, but I already have a ring."

So they put the gold in bags and slung them on the ponies, who were not at all pleased about it.

At first I was surprised they made it this far, but then I thought about it and I've decided that clearly the original return ponies died on the way and they had to borrow some from Beorn and then those died right outside Rivendell so they had to get more, because seriously the survival rate of ponies in this book is the worst.

Coming to a rise he could see his own Hill in the distance, and he stopped suddenly and said:

Tolkien really likes songs about roads. Song number three!

There was a large notice in black and red hung on the gate, stating that on June the Twenty-second Messrs Grubb, Grubb, and Burrowes would sell by auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins Esquire, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton.

Thanks for leaving a note for him, Gandalf.

The people who had got specially good bargains at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to save time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture.

And since Gandalf pointed out he'd need the gold two pages ago, fucker knew this would happen. He just wanted to waste money for fun.

His coat of mail was arranged on a stand in the hall (until he lent it to a Museum).

It was actually stolen and he never could get it back, even with the ring and six of the dwarves and some poor sap that Gandalf lent them, because Museums in this part of the worldl give up absolutely nothing.

If Balin noticed that Mr. Baggins’ waistcoat was more extensive (and had real gold buttons), Bilbo also noticed that Balin’s beard was several inches longer, and his jewelled belt was of great magnificence.

Best dwarf for being the only one to show up this late in the story I guess. Goodbye Balin, I'll miss you most of all!

And so ends The Hobbit, with Bilbo deciding to write a book like all good literary characters, most of the distinct dwarves dead, Balin still being awesome, Bombur presumably having gotten stuck in an archway because haha fat jokes, and Gandalf moving onto Bree to torment the innkeeper or maybe Dol Amroth to help Adrahil II get laid or whatever else he did to prep for the sequel.

It's a good story, but man is the pacing weird. I also get the impression Tolkien hadn't quite figured out battle scenes yet, or wasn't quite comfortable relating them to kids (either out of generally wanting to preserve innocence or just bad memories), since we're specifically removed from the climactic fights first by distance (Smaug) and then time (the Battle of Five Armies). The Lord of the Rings is one of the great novels of our time (ignore how publishers made it 3), but its prequel is nowhere near its level. Disappointing, but unsurprising.

I'll be taking a little hiatus as my life collapses, but after that I'll start up either rereading Lord of the Rings or perhaps reading (minus the first book, which will be a reread) some Robin Hobb. We'll see what happens!

[cottonvanjogh]

LotR/the Hobbit where everything is the exact same except instead of mithril Bilbo and Frodo wear the Miku binder

[thoughtsontolkien]

Prologue

Hullo, and welcome to the first post! This one will be my thoughts on the several pages of set-up before we get to the actual book.

Direct quotes from the book will be in italics to differentiate them from my rambling :)

1: Concerning Hobbits

My man Jirt immediately mentions The Hobbit about four lines in

'Many, however, may wish to know more about this remarkable people' - I read somewhere that JRRT wanted to publish The Silmarillion after The Hobbit but his publishers were like 'no. more hobbits' , and if that's true I would like to think that this was JRRT's way of being like 'fine. you want more hobbits? i will give you SO MUCH INFO about hobbits'

I strongly agree with hobbits about shoes being annoying - I myself prefer to not wear them when I can (and since I now live in an area without bindies I can assume that it will be safe to walk barefoot on grass)

Early hobbits were living near the Anduin when Greenwood became Mirkwood

The hobbits renamed the river Baranduin 'Brandywine' - aka 'alcohol 1 alcohol 2' and I love that for them

Bullroarer is mentioned twice within the first 5 pages and both times Jirt is like 'it's an interesting story BUT irrelevant here so I'm not going to bring it up again'

I love that we get a full and detailed description of hobbit architecture for multiple paragraphs

'Hobbits delighted in such things, if they were accurate: they liked to have books filled with things that they already knew, set out fair and square with no contradictions.' - Oh, to be a hobbit and not a historical archaeologist constantly arguing about How Things Were

2: Concerning Pipe-weed

Opinions: is pipeweed tobacco or straight-up weed? I know that since Jirt says it's probably a variety of Nicotiana it's probably tobacco, but also it says 'probably' and it's funnier to imagine that hobbits are just constantly high

The Prancing Pony is apparently the home of smoking

'Not even the Wizards first thought of that before we did. Though one Wizard that I knew took up the art long ago, and became as skilful in it as in all other things that he put his mind to.'

And from that information I like to imagine that Gandalf stopped in Bree when he first showed up in Middle-earth, was given a pipe, went 'that's the good shit' and immediately spread it to as many people as he could

3: Of the Ordering of the Shire

Jirt: thank you so much for making it 'the Shire' and not 'The Shire'

I love hobbit naming conventions and the fact that they seem to be the only race in Middle-earth with distinct familial surnames

For some reason the name 'Brandybuck' has a Good Ring to it

The Tooks truly are a wild family - the Thain is apparently 'master of the Shire-moot, and captain of the Shire-muster and the Hobbitry-in-arms' and now I'm imagining a very angry Took leading a small army of 3-foot-tall hobbits sometime in hobbit ancient history

The head of the Took family is just called 'The Took' like they're some notorious criminal

4: Of the Finding of the Ring

Quick recount of the events of The Hobbit in case you haven't read it

Bilbo gave his mithril coat to the Mathom-house in Michel Delving. This shows how little hobbits care about shiny things, but I do find it funny that he was like 'yeah just send the shirt to the House of Random Things' and it stayed there for years

NOTE ON THE SHIRE RECORDS

Bilbo you absolute legend, thank you for being the preeminent Hobbit Historian

If the story of the copies of the Red Book ain't a good description of what actually happens to many historical records I don't know what is

Merry and Pippin, we love hoarder librarians

Elladan and Elrohir apparently stayed in Middle-earth long after Elrond and Galadriel sailed, and Celeborn stayed with them in Rivendell for a while until he sailed too

[freshvanillapng]

the king and his consort