#The passage of the Marshes

[la-pheacienne]

reading the two towers and i Feel Things

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

The Two Towers Listening / Reading Order

What follows is a suggested listening / reading order of The Two Towers that I've been working on. I enjoy it so much, I felt the need to share. The idea first came from my annoyance of hearing none of Andy Serkis' Gollum in the first half of the audiobook, and then all of it in the second. I also think it improves the narrative experience overall, as I think it becomes easier to follow all storylines across the trilogy this way. I also think it naturally lends itself to being chunked into three Parts, instead of Tolkien's original two (especially if you're going to take significant breaks and / or enter-exit at certain key points). The first number per line below is of the suggested listening / reading order. The X:X number indicates the Book:Chapter originally sequenced by Tolkien. I also included the chapter titles.

Part I

3:1 The Departure of Boromir

4:1 The Taming of Sméagol

3:2 The Riders of Rohan

4:2 The Passage of the Marshes

3:3 The Uruk-Hai

4:3 The Black Gate is Closed

3:4 Treebeard

Part II

4:4 Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

3:5 The White Rider

4:5 The Window on the West

3:6 The King of the Golden Hall

4:6 The Forbidden Pool

4:7 Journey to the Cross-Roads

3:7 Helm's Deep

Part III

3:8 The Road to Isengard

4:8 The Stairs of Cirith Ungol

3:9 Flotsam and Jetsam

4:9 Shelob's Lair

3:10 The Voice of Saruman

3:11 The Palantir

4:10 The Choices of Master Samwise

[3months2mordor]

October 7

The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 2: The Passage of the Marshes

[la-pheacienne]

This is beautiful. Me personally I am obsessed with this passage from the passage of the marshes that is not given enough credit imo (probably because of how bleak and dark it is) but the language and style here are truly top-notch:

At last, on the fifth morning since they took the road with Gollum, they halted once more. Before them dark in the dawn the great mountains reached up to roofs of smoke and cloud. Out from their feet were flung huge buttresses and broken hills that were now at the nearest scarce a dozen miles away. Frodo looked round in horror. Dreadful as the Dead Marshes had been, and the arid moors of the Noman-lands, more loathsome far was the country that the crawling day now slowly unveiled to his shrinking eyes. Even to the Mere of Dead Faces some haggard phantom of green spring would come; but here neither spring nor summer would ever come again. Here nothing lived, not even the leprous growths that feed on rottenness. The gasping pools were choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about. High mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained, stood like an obscene graveyard in endless rows, slowly revealed in the reluctant light. They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting monument to the dark labour of its slaves that should endure when all their purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing – unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion. ‘I feel sick,’ said Sam. Frodo did not speak. For a while they stood there, like men on the edge of a sleep where nightmare lurks, holding it off, though they know that they can only come to morning through the shadows. The light broadened and hardened. The gasping pits and poisonous mounds grew hideously clear. The sun was up, walking among clouds and long flags of smoke, but even the sunlight was defiled. The hobbits had no welcome for that light; unfriendly it seemed, revealing them in their helplessness – little squeaking ghosts that wandered among the ash-heaps of the Dark Lord.

Like actual insane imagery and I have never read a more intense depiction of horror in my life i think, it is so palpable I can feel it in my bones as if I'm there.

Tolkien’s best passage

Tolkien gets a lot of respect for being a great storyteller, but I think a lot of times people don’t really understand that, as an author, he had an amazing command of language and style (and poetry). I wanted to share my favorite passage of his, in terms of linguistic style, which comes from the Return of the King, for those who may not be as familiar with his work. It is worthwhile to read this aloud and really listen to how the sentences flow: 

“And far away, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammath Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dûr was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; and the magnitude of his own folly was revealed to him in a blinding flash, and all the devices of his enemies were at last laid bare. Then his wrath blazed in consuming flame, but his fear rose like a vast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung. From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems and wars his mind shook free; and throughout his realm a tremor ran, his slaves quailed, and his armies halted, and his captains suddenly steerless, bereft of will, wavered and despaired. For they were forgotten. The whole mind and purpose of the Power that wielded them was now bent with overwhelming force upon the Mountain. At his summons, wheeling with a rending cry, in a last desperate race there flew, faster than the winds, the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths, and with a storm of wings they hurtled southwards to Mount Doom.”

I hope you appreciate this as much as I do. If you have similar favorite passages (in terms of storytelling, or style, or anything), reblog and let me know. In terms of pure emotion, I don’t think anything in the Lord of the Rings is more beautifully done than the scene of Sam and Frodo talking about being in a story and part of an adventure, but this passage wins in terms of literary ability. 

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

never change sp fandom

[titsthedamnseason]

KELSIER???? KELSIER IS TALKING TO SPOOK???? KELSIER LED SPOOK TO PEWTER AND HELPED HIM USE IT???? WHATS GOING ONNNNNNNN

[perplexingly]

“He never had any real hope in the affair from the beginning; but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.”

The comic is based on a scene from the chapter “The passage of the marshes”

[animusrox]

TOP 10

Past Lives

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How to Blow Up a Pipeline

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Oppenheimer

Barbie

BlackBerry

The Holdovers

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Killers of the Flower Moon

MY LETTERBOXD Grade A 11.    The Killer 12.    Beau Is Afraid 13.    Dream Scenario 14.    Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 15.    Godzilla Minus One 16.    American Fiction 17.    They Cloned Tyrone 18.     Evil Dead Rise 19.    Eileen 20.    The Artifice Girl 21.   Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem 22.    Talk to Me 23.    Reality 24.    Leave the World Behind 25.    A Thousand and One 26.    Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One 27.    Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. 28.    Theater Camp 29.   Carmen 30.    Merry Little Batman 31.    Priscilla 32.    Society of the Snow 33.    Infinity Pool 34.    Enys Men 35.    Sanctuary 36.    Rye Lane 37.    Skinamarink 38.    Monster 39.    Anatomy of a Fall 40.    Landscape with Invisible Hand 41.    Reptile 42.    Sisu 43.    Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game 44.    No One Will Save You 45.    Tetris 46.    May December 47.    The Zone of Interest 48.    V/H/S/85 49.    Dumb Money 50.    El Conde 51.    Arnold 52.    Maestro 53.    Napoleon 54.    20 Days in Mariupol 55.    Influencer 56.    The Creator 57.    Origin 58.    Thanksgiving 59.    Next Goal Wins 60.    The Boy and the Heron 61.    Bottoms 62.    Wonka

[Press Keep Reading For The Full Graded List]

Grade B

63.   God Is a Bullet 64.    No Hard Feelings 65.    Joy Ride 66.    Fair Play 67.     Cocaine Bear 68.    NYAD 69.    Asteroid City 70.    Nowhere 71.    The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster 72.    Divinity 73.    The Equalizer 3 74.    The Last Voyage of the Demeter 75.    Venus 76.    Butcher’s Crossing 77.    Somewhere in Queens 78.    The Persian Version 79.    Boston Strangler 80.    Polite Society 81.    Miguel Wants to Fight 82.    The Color Purple 83.    The Royal Hotel 84.    Saw X 85.    All of Us Strangers 86.    Fallen Leaves 87.    Ferrari 88.    Elemental 89.    Peter Pan & Wendy 90.    Renfield 91.    Cat Person 92.    Scream VI 93.    The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes 94.    BS High 95.    Blue Beetle 96.    Huesera: The Bone Woman 97.    When Evil Lurks 98.    Dark Harvest 99.    A Good Person 100.    Final Cut 101.    Knock at the Cabin 102.    Quiz Lady 103.    Leo 104.    Air 105.    The Super Mario Bros. Movie 106.    Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham 107.    John Wick: Chapter 4 108.    Beaten to Death 109.    The Wrath of Becky 110.    Passages 111.    Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 112.    Gran Turismo 113.    65 114.    Sick 115.    Sister Death 116.    The Blackening 117.    Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain 118.    Flamin’ Hot 119.    Nimona 120.    Cobweb 121.    Totally Killer 122.    What’s Love Got to Do with It? 123.     Sharper 124.    Unseen 125.    Dunki 126.    Bird Box Barcelona 127.    The Marvels 128.    Shazam! Fury of the Gods

Grade C

129.   Wildflower 130.    Freelance 131.    M3GAN 132.    Strays 133.    Sympathy for the Devil 134.    Creed III 135.    Chevalier 136.    The Marsh King’s Daughter 137.    A Haunting in Venice 138.    The Little Mermaid 139.    Silent Night 140.    Master Gardener 141.    The Flash 142.    Fast X 143.    The Pope’s Exorcist 144.    Saltburn 145.    Kandahar 146.    Stand 147.    Plane 148.   Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny 149.    Fingernails 150.    Quicksand 151.    Fool’s Paradise 152.    Migration 153.    Rustin 154.    The Covenant 155.    Good Burger 2 156.    The Pod Generation 157.    Alice, Darling 158.    Insidious: The Red Door 159.    Missing 160.    Shotgun Wedding 161.    You Hurt My Feelings 162.    The Boogeyman 163.    Showing Up 164.    Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 165.    Champions 166.    Consecration 167.    The Nun II 168.    Biosphere 169.    House Party 170.    The Exorcist: Believer 171.    Big George Foreman 172.    Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves 173.    Children of the Corn 174.    The Beanie Bubble 175.    Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Grade F

176.    Anyone But You 177.    Marlowe 178.    Paint 179.    Extraction 2 180.    It Lives Inside 181.    Deliver Us 182.    Trolls Band Together 183.    Finestkind 184.    Corner Office 185.    Wish 186.    Prisoner’s Daughter 187.    Pain Hustlers 188.    Foe 189.    The Mother 190.    Old Dads 191.    Ghosted 192.    Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken 193.    Haunted Mansion 194.    Mafia Mamma 195.    Five Nights at Freddy’s 196.    The Machine 197.    Justice League: Warworld 198.    We Have a Ghost 199.    What Comes Around 200.    Legion of Super-Heroes 201.    The Boys in the Boat 202.    Attachment 203.    Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre 204.    About My Father 205.    You People 206.    Meg 2: The Trench 207.    Pathaan 208.    Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire 209.    Assassin 210.    Dalíland 211.    Vacation Friends 2

Bottom 10

212.    Sound of Freedom 213.    Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 214.    When You Finish Saving The World 215.    Heart of Stone 216.    Family Switch 217.    Expend4bles 218.    Sweetwater 219.    Hypnotic 220.    80 for Brady 221.    Spinning Gold

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

"They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting monument to the dark labour of its slaves that should endure when all their purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing; unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers, "The Passage of the Marshes"

@tolkienhorrorweek day 3 ⇢ mordor + "the pitiless land" || GEOGRAPHY OF MORDOR

[ID: an edit comprised of seven banners in muted natural tones.

1: A lake surrounded by mountains overhung with mist and trees giving way to gravel banks. White gothic-style text in the center reads "Lake Núrnen," and below that in a thin sans serif, "the lake of sad waters" / 2: A valley between dark mountains, with a dirt path leading through it. Text reads "Udûn" and "the dark valley" / 3: A rocky plain leading towards distant mountains that fade into a dark, smoggy sky. Text reads "Gorgoroth" and "the plain of deadly fear" / 4: An erupting volcano in the dark. Text reads "Orodruin" and "the burning mountain" / 5: Sharp mountain ridges with snow along the lower slopes beneath a cloudy sky. Text reads "Ered Lithui" and "the ashen mountains" / 6: Bare rock mountains beneath clouds. Text reads "Ephel Dúath" and "the mountains of shadow" / 7: Pale rock formations on an arid plain, with slopes rising in the distance. Text reads "Lithlad" and "the plain of ashes" //End ID]

[la-pheacienne]

Frodo and Sam lay eyes on Mordor for the first time

Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 2, The passage of the Marshes.

Two things I will never get:

Why some people say Tolkien's descriptions are boring/excessive

Why Frodo and Sam's parts of the books are considered the most boring/most tiring parts.

I'm reading TT in english this time and so far, Frodo and Sam's parts are my favorite. The passage of the Marshes is a stellar chapter, a truly unforgettable reading experience. The very first description of the mountains surrounding Mordor left me speachless and when Sam, (Sam!!! Cheerful, optimistic, joyful bubble of happiness Sam!) said "I feel sick", I felt it too.

[secretmellowblog]

Les Mis Canon-era Paris Photographs: Jean Valjean and Cosette’s route to escape Javert, in Pictures!

Jean Valjean's escape through Paris is Victor Hugo's way of mourning the Paris he knew from before his exile, the Paris before the modern renovations.

Hugo wrote Les Mis from exile in Guernsey, at the same time as Paris was undergoing a series of massive renovations. The "Old City" of medieval Paris that Hugo loved was being replaced by the “New City" of Baron Haussman. The dark medieval labyrinth lit by oil lamps was being replaced by modern wide streets and standardized architecture lit by gas lamps. Victor Hugo is nostalgic for the Paris he remembers before his exile-- so Jean Valjean is able to escape Javert using things unique to the Old City. He escapes through a labyrinth of tiny medieval streets in a neighborhood Hugo claims was destroyed during the renovations; he climbs over the convent wall using the rope from an oil lamp, the very oil lamps that were being replaced by the more modern gas lanterns. The dark maze hides him from police surveillance in a way modern streets cannot.

A man named Charles Marville photographed Paris shortly before many (though not all) of the renovations occurred. In this post I'll go through all the different streets mentioned in the Valjean-Javert Paris chase chapters, and provide Marville's photographs whenever they the image has been labeled with the name of the street. Note that there may be some inaccuracies. Some street names changed over time.

Here is a map of what the chase looks like, taken from the book "Paris in the Times of Victor Hugo."

A quick overview: Jean Valjean starts in a slummy half-built suburban area. This area is highly associated with the King; the royal Jardin des Plantes is nearby, and King Louis XVIII often rides by in his carriage during the afternoons. After travelling down a bunch of streets, "zigzagging" back and forth, Jean Valjean decides to cross the Seine over the Bridge of Austerlitz (a bridge named after one of Napoleon's victories.) Then he reaches the areas of the city near the Faubourg Saint Antoine that are more associated with working class rebellion. From there he enters a dark isolated half-built medieval neighborhood near marshes and timberyards, with narrow mazey alleyways, that Hugo mostly made up. Hugo pretends this medieval neighborhood used to exist, but was destroyed like many others during the recent renovations. Now that we've gotten the overview out of the way, let's go more specific!

The chase starts out in "the old quarter of the Marche aux Chevaux." At the time, this was a less inhabited and poorer area of Paris; it's described as basically a slum. Here are some of Marville's photographs :

Then we're told "Jean Valjean described many and varied labyrinths in the Mouffetard quarter, which was already asleep, as though the discipline of the Middle Ages and the yoke of the curfew still existed. He combined in various manners, with cunning strategy, the Rue Censier:"

"and the Rue Copeau," (according to the map I linked earlier, the Rue Copeau is now the Rue Lacepede. Here is Marville's pic:)

"the Rue du Battoir-Saint-Victor and the Rue du Puits l’Ermite. There are lodging houses in this locality, but he did not even enter one, finding nothing which suited him. He had no doubt that if any one had chanced to be upon his track, they would have lost it."

"As eleven o’clock struck from Saint-Étienne-du-Mont:" (note: this refers to the church of Saint-Etienne)

"he was traversing the Rue de Pontoise, in front of the office of the commissary of police, situated at No. 14." (Jean Valjean sees Javert and the police following him on this street, because they're visible in the light of the lantern from the police station.)

"He took a circuit, turned into the Passage des Patriarches, which was closed on account of the hour,"

"strode along the Rue de l’Épée-de-Bois

and the Rue de l’Arbalète, and plunged into the Rue des Postes."

"At that time there was a square formed by the intersection of streets, where the College Rollin stands to-day, and where the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève turns off." (Note: these streets are labeled Montagne-Sainte-Geneviève, but not Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève, so they may be different streets! But I'm putting them here anyway.)

"It is understood, of course, that the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève is an old street, and that a posting-chaise does not pass through the Rue des Postes once in ten years. In the thirteenth century this Rue des Postes was inhabited by potters, and its real name is Rue des Pots." (Annotation: Hugo's bein silly and making little puns. He's snarkily pointing out the "new saint-genevieve street" is old, and the post street rarely has post-chaises/carriages go through it.) (Jean Valjean hides in the shadows and watches to see who shows up in this big square intersection of streets. In the moonlight, he recognizes Javert.) "He slipped from under the gate where he had concealed himself, and went down the Rue des Postes (which I shared a picture of previously), towards the region of the Jardin des Plantes." (Note: the Jardin des Plantes is a royal garden. Here is a modern photo from Wikipedia.)

"He left behind him the Rue de la Clef,

"then the Fountain Saint-Victor, skirted the Jardin des Plantes by the lower streets, and reached the quay. There he turned round. The quay was deserted. The streets were deserted. There was no one behind him. He drew a long breath.

He gained the Pont d’Austerlitz." (The Pont d'Austerlitz, named after Napoleon's victory at the battle of Austerlitz, is a very famous bridge. Marville has no photographs but here's an 1830 engraving:)

"The bridge once crossed, he perceived some timber-yards on his right. He directed his course thither. In order to reach them, it was necessary to risk himself in a tolerably large unsheltered and illuminated space. He did not hesitate. Those who were on his track had evidently lost the scent, and Jean Valjean believed himself to be out of danger. Hunted, yes; followed, no." Here's the quai by the pont-au-change-- a different quai, but gives you an idea of what the areas around the Seine often looked like.

(Then Jean Valjean sees Javert and the other police on the Bridge of Austerlitz, following him. He hurries towards the darker alleys of the city.)

"A little street, the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine, opened out between two timber-yards enclosed in walls. This street was dark and narrow and seemed made expressly for him."

Here's an abandoned timber-yard-ish looking picture:

But Marville has no photographs of this street. I'd have to double check, but iirc this is the part where Hugo starts to 'make up' more street layouts. I wouldn't be surprised if this street really WAS made expressly for him (meaning Hugo made it up.) "The point of Paris where Jean Valjean found himself, situated between the Faubourg Saint-Antoine and la Râpée, is one of those which recent improvements have transformed from top to bottom,—resulting in disfigurement according to some, and in a transfiguration according to others. The market-gardens, the timber-yards, and the old buildings have been effaced. To-day, there are brand-new, wide streets, arenas, circuses, hippodromes, railway stations, and a prison, Mazas, there; progress, as the reader sees, with its antidote."

(Here Hugo talks about the Haussman renovations directly, claiming that if his street layouts are "inaccurate" it's because these are some of the Old Medieval Streets that were razed during Paris's recent renovations. He goes on for a while comparing Petit-Picpus to various other areas that were changed during the renovations.)

"Le Petit-Picpus, which, moreover, hardly ever had any existence, and never was more than the outline of a quarter, had nearly the monkish aspect of a Spanish town. The roads were not much paved; the streets were not much built up. (....) Such was this quarter in the last century. The Revolution snubbed it soundly. The republican government demolished and cut through it. Rubbish shoots were established there. Thirty years ago, this quarter was disappearing under the erasing process of new buildings. To-day, it has been utterly blotted out."

The Petit-Picpus, of which no existing plan has preserved a trace, is indicated with sufficient clearness in the plan of 1727, published at Paris by Denis Thierry, Rue Saint-Jacques, opposite the Rue du Plâtre;

and at Lyons, by Jean Girin, Rue Mercière, at the sign of Prudence.

Petit-Picpus had, as we have just mentioned, a Y of streets, formed by the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine, which spread out in two branches, taking on the left the name of Little Picpus Street, and on the right the name of the Rue Polonceau. The two limbs of the Y were connected at the apex as by a bar; this bar was called Rue Droit-Mur.

The Rue Polonceau ended there; Rue Petit-Picpus passed on, and ascended towards the Lenoir market. A person coming from the Seine reached the extremity of the Rue Polonceau, and had on his right the Rue Droit-Mur, turning abruptly at a right angle, in front of him the wall of that street, and on his right a truncated prolongation of the Rue Droit-Mur, which had no issue and was called the Cul-de-Sac Genrot." Here is @everyonewasabird's attempt to puzzle this out:

It was here that Jean Valjean stood."

Then Jean Valjean escapes by pulling down an old oil lantern, strung up by ropes. Hugo notes that this would have been "impossible if the streets were lit with gas, the way they would be after the renovations. This picture shows an old oil lamp strung up by ropes:

Finally, Jean Valjean climbs over the wall into the Petit-Picpus convent. This convent is fictional. Hugo pretends it used to exists but is no longer around-- another relic of the early 19th century that has been lost over time.

TLDR:

Jean Valjean's escape through Paris is Hugo way of mourning the Paris he knew from before his exile, the Paris before the modern renovations. To quote Volume 2 Book 5 Chapter 1:

The author of this book, who regrets the necessity of mentioning himself, has been absent from Paris for many years. Paris has been transformed since he quitted it. A new city has arisen, which is, after a fashion, unknown to him. There is no need for him to say that he loves Paris: Paris is his mind’s natal city. In consequence of demolitions and reconstructions, the Paris of his youth, that Paris which he bore away religiously in his memory, is now a Paris of days gone by. He must be permitted to speak of that Paris as though it still existed. It is possible that when the author conducts his readers to a spot and says, “In such a street there stands such and such a house,” neither street nor house will any longer exist in that locality. Readers may verify the facts if they care to take the trouble. For his own part, he is unacquainted with the new Paris, and he writes with the old Paris before his eyes in an illusion which is precious to him. It is a delight to him to dream that there still lingers behind him something of that which he beheld when he was in his own country, and that all has not vanished. So long as you go and come in your native land, you imagine that those streets are a matter of indifference to you; that those windows, those roofs, and those doors are nothing to you; that those walls are strangers to you; that those trees are merely the first encountered haphazard; that those houses, which you do not enter, are useless to you; that the pavements which you tread are merely stones. Later on, when you are no longer there, you perceive that the streets are dear to you; that you miss those roofs, those doors; and that those walls are necessary to you, those trees are well beloved by you; that you entered those houses which you never entered, every day, and that you have left a part of your heart, of your blood, of your soul, in those pavements. All those places which you no longer behold, which you may never behold again, perchance, and whose memory you have cherished, take on a melancholy charm, recur to your mind with the melancholy of an apparition, make the holy land visible to you, and are, so to speak, the very form of France, and you love them; and you call them up as they are, as they were, and you persist in this, and you will submit to no change: for you are attached to the figure of your fatherland as to the face of your mother.

[autistook]

March 1st - Frodo, Sam and Gollum begin the passage of the Dead Marshes at dawn. They temporarily halt and hide from a flying Nazgûl.

[sillylotrpolls]

Today's poll directly inspired by this post by @earendil-was-a-mariner. "Master" has been added as an option for those who think Gollum might enjoy the role reversal aspects of the situation, as "master" is what he calls Frodo when he's sucking up to him.

From The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: Part 2/Book IV: Chapter 2: The Passage of the Marshes

'No, sweet one. See, my precious: if we has it, then we can escape, even from Him, eh? Perhaps we grows very strong, stronger than Wraiths. Lord Sméagol? Gollum the Great? The Gollum! Eat fish every day, three times a day; fresh from the sea. Most Precious Gollum! Must have it. We wants it, we wants it, we wants it! '

Incidentally, if you go through all of Gollum/Sméagol's references to himself, he most frequently uses the adjective poor when describing himself, as in "poor Sméagol." This ties in neatly with the theme of pity around him while also being supremely irritating if you are an already-suspicious hobbit.

[s-soulwriter]

Fantasy place (which you can use for your story)

Some fantasy places you can use for your next story .

Luminoth Hollow: A subterranean cavern filled with glowing crystals that emit soothing light. Luminoth Hollow is home to a race of peaceful, bioluminescent creatures who communicate through light patterns.

Zephyria: A floating archipelago of lush, skyborne islands, tethered together by colossal, living vines. Each island has its unique ecosystem and is inhabited by winged creatures who navigate the skies between them.

Aurora Glade: A tranquil meadow hidden within a giant, sentient tree. The glade is bathed in eternal twilight and inhabited by gentle, dreamweaving creatures who protect the dreams of those who visit.

The Obsidian Spire: A towering, black monolith that pierces the heavens. It's said that at its peak lies a portal to another realm, guarded by enigmatic sentinels who test the worth of those who seek passage.

Eldertide Marsh: A mystical swamp where ancient, sentient trees rise from the waters, and luminous fireflies lead travelers along phosphorescent pathways. It's rumored that the marsh holds the key to unlocking forgotten knowledge.

Clockwork Citadel: A colossal, mechanical fortress powered by intricate gears and steam. Clockwork automatons serve as both guardians and caretakers, and the citadel houses a library containing the accumulated wisdom of the ages.

Whispering Sands: A desert where the dunes are constantly shifting, and the winds carry the whispers of long-forgotten spirits. At its heart stands an oasis of liquid crystal that reveals glimpses of the past and future.

The Eternal Library: A massive, floating island covered in towering bookshelves. Each book contains the life story of an individual, and the library is said to grant the power to rewrite destinies.

Gloomwood Thicket: A dense, enchanted forest perpetually cloaked in twilight. Within its shadows reside shadowy creatures that can manipulate time, making it a place of both wonder and danger.

Abyssal Abyss: An underwater realm where bioluminescent flora and fauna thrive. Merfolk and other aquatic beings have built stunning, glowing cities within deep-sea caves.

Sylvan Skylines: An archipelago of floating islands inhabited by tree-dwelling, bird-like beings who harness the power of wind and weather. They craft intricate bridges and pathways connecting their aerial homes.

Whispering Peaks: Towering, mist-shrouded mountains said to hold the knowledge of the cosmos. Monasteries and meditation chambers dot the landscape, where monks seek enlightenment through quiet contemplation.

The Emberforge: An underground forge where skilled blacksmiths craft legendary weapons and armor imbued with the essence of fallen stars. The air is filled with the sound of hammers on metal and the crackling of celestial flames.

The Crystal Canyons: A network of canyons adorned with enormous, glowing crystals that resonate with hauntingly beautiful melodies when touched. Nomadic crystal herders roam the canyons, taming the living crystals.

The Dreamer's Archipelago: A series of islands, each representing different dreams and nightmares. Travelers can enter these dreamscapes and interact with the inhabitants, who are manifestations of dreams themselves.

[naomeii]

Celestial Threads.

—Pairings: Morax x Goddess! Reader

Content : Angst to comfort, platonic! Xiao x reader, mentions of death, tiny bit of spoilers? about the archon war.

Synopsis: Threads of destiny lead to a revelation. As stars align, ancient lovers stand on the cusp of rediscovery, unraveling a tale of enduring love and divine destiny.

In the age when gods walked among mortals, when the winds carried whispers of celestial tales, there existed a love that transcended the eons – a love between the Geo Archon, known as Morax, now Zhongli, and the Goddess of Stars, Y/n. Bound by fate and forged in the crucible of countless years, their connection withstood the tests of time and the turmoil of the Archon War.

In those ancient days, Y/n, with her luminous presence, stood as the Goddess of Stars, a divine being revered by both adepti and mortals alike. Morax, the stoic and wise Geo Archon, ruled over Liyue with a firm yet just hand. Guizhong, the God of Dust, completed their celestial trio, and together, they shaped the destiny of Teyvat.

The love between Morax and Y/n was no secret. Their hearts beat in unison, their souls intertwined like constellations in the night sky. As the Archon War raged on, their bond became a beacon of hope, a reminder that even amidst chaos, love could endure.

The turning point came when Guizhong, their dear companion, perished in the crucible of battle. The weight of grief hung heavy on their hearts. Yet, the war persisted, refusing to release its grip on the realm. In a desperate attempt to protect their people, Morax and Y/n, mourning the loss of Guizhong, sought to move their citizens to what would become Liyue Harbor.

However, tragedy struck again. In a heart-wrenching moment, Y/n, trying to save a human child, faced her demise right before Morax's eyes. As she was turning into dust, she spoke, "Hold my hand for the last time, my love," as her ethereal form dissipated, turning into stardust that scattered in the wind. Morax couldn't do anything as his lover vanished, and could only choke up sobs that could be heard everywhere, the ever so stoic God, on his knees, crying for the loss of his lover. Zhongli, now, could only hold her hand one last time as the battle continued, leaving him to mourn the love he thought he had lost.

Years passed, and the war eventually came to an end. Morax, still grieving and burdened by the weight of solitude, took on the mortal guise of Zhongli. By his side stood Xiao, the vigilant Yaksha, a witness to the eons of grief etched on Morax's face.

Meanwhile, Y/n experienced a different fate. Instead of succumbing to death, her celestial essence invoked a deep slumber, creating a domain where her powers could protect her. Even in her sleep, she remained connected to the events unfolding in Teyvat.

In the quiet emptiness of her celestial sleep, Y/n heard a voice that shattered the ethereal silence. The revelation that she hadn't perished but rather entered a deep slumber resonated within her being. Awakening after eons, she found herself surrounded by a peaceful landscape that hinted at the war's conclusion.

Fearful of facing Zhongli in his new guise, Y/n made her way to Wangshu Inn, knowing that Alatus, now called Xiao, often sought solace there. The Inn, perched in Dihua Marsh, became a refuge for the Yaksha adeptus. "Y/n!?" he was bewildered.

In the quietude of Wangshu Inn, Y/n found an unexpected companion in Xiao. The Yaksha adeptus, usually reserved and distant, was bewildered by the revelation that the goddess presumed dead for eons stood before him, alive and well. Although he would never admit it, Xiao had found a source of comfort and understanding in Y/n, akin to a motherly figure, though the words remained unspoken.

Y/n's sheepish smile greeted Xiao's perplexed gaze. The conversation unfolded as Xiao explained the passage of time, recounting how Rex Lapis had taken the guise of Zhongli and now worked at Wangshu Inn. He detailed Zhongli's unwavering grief over Y/n's presumed demise, a grief that had lingered for centuries. Y/n admitted she knew of Zhongli's mourning but wasn't ready to confront him.

With a hesitant agreement, Xiao swore among the stars to keep Y/n's incarnation a secret from Zhongli. The pact was sealed, and Y/n, with Xiao's discreet assistance, integrated herself into the daily workings of Wangshu Inn. She took up a job, becoming a subtle presence in the background, observing the world she had missed for eons.

Wangshu Inn became a haven of sorts, a place where Y/n could quietly navigate the realm of mortals. She didn't forge many connections, preferring the solitude of her thoughts. Occasionally, she would encounter the Traveler, Aether, with his long braided hair and striking outfit, and his companion Paimon, a petite figure resembling a fairy with white hair and a star-flecked cape.

The exchanges with the Traveler and Paimon were fleeting, yet they brought a sense of warmth to Y/n's celestial heart. Aether's unknown years of existence mirrored Y/n's timeless essence, creating an unspoken connection between them. Paimon's playful demeanor added a touch of whimsy to the encounters, and together, they shared moments of camaraderie against the backdrop of Liyue's ever-changing landscapes.

As Y/n observed the interplay of mortal lives, she couldn't deny the growing curiosity within her. The world had evolved, and she found herself entwined in its unfolding tapestry, a silent observer with a heart that had endured through the ages. Meanwhile, Zhongli, burdened with the memories of love and loss, wandered Liyue Harbor, finding solace in the memories of his beloved. His mourning was a poignant symphony, echoing through the city he had helped shape, and the stars above, a silent witness to the enduring tale of a love that surpassed the boundaries of time and existence.

"Say traveler, do you ever feel the weight of a presence that lingers, just beyond your grasp?" Zhongli pondered, his eyes reflecting the depth of ancient sorrows.

Before the traveler could reply, Paimon, oblivious to the true nature of Zhongli's musings, quipped, "Well, there's a new worker at Wangshu Inn. She's got this ethereal vibe, you know, and her knowledge rivals even yours, Zhongli! I, ummm, I think her name was Y/n!"

"Y/n?" he uttered, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice. Zhongli turned to Xiao, who bore a guilty look, a fleeting expression that didn't go unnoticed by the perceptive archon. Before Zhongli could delve into the mystery, Paimon indecisively changed the topic, diverting Zhongli's attention elsewhere.

Xiao, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of secrecy momentarily lifted. The adeptus yearned for the reunion of two souls separated by time and fate. Deep down, he wanted Zhongli and Y/n to rediscover the bond that had endured the tumultuous currents of history. Yet, bound by a promise made among the stars, Xiao found himself torn between the desire for reunion and the commitment to keep Y/n's incarnation a clandestine affair.

As fate continued its intricate dance, Xiao couldn't escape the persistent longing for a resolution that would bring solace to the hearts of the old lovers and bridge the celestial gap that had kept them apart for so long.

As days turned into nights at Wangshu Inn, Xiao found himself caught between the shadows of secrecy and the spark of longing that flickered within Zhongli's gaze. The Yaksha adeptus, ever reserved and distant, couldn't ignore the unspoken desire for the two ancient lovers to reunite. Xiao had sworn among the stars to keep Y/n's continued existence hidden from Zhongli, a promise he held with a heavy heart.

One evening, as Xiao and Zhongli were quietly conversing in a serene ambiance, a slip of the tongue threatened to unravel the carefully woven tapestry of secrecy. Xiao, usually composed and vigilant, found himself momentarily lost in the nostalgia that lingered in the air.

"Zhongli," Xiao began, his gaze fixated on the distant horizon beyond Liyue. "Have you ever felt the echoes of a long-lost presence, as if the stars themselves whispered tales of forgotten bonds?"

Zhongli, intrigued by Xiao's cryptic words, turned his attention to the Yaksha. "What do you mean, Xiao?"

Caught in the currents of emotions, Xiao hesitated. The weight of his unspoken words hung in the air like the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. "There are threads that bind souls across time, Archon. Threads that withstand the ages, refusing to be severed."

Zhongli, his curiosity piqued, furrowed his brows. "Whose threads are you referring to, Xiao?"

In that moment, a gust of wind carried the celestial scent of osmanthus, weaving through the conversation like a delicate melody. Xiao, realizing the precarious ground he stood on, cast a brief, apologetic glance at Zhongli.

"I spoke in riddles, Archon. Pay it no mind," Xiao replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from the precipice of revelation.

However, the spark of realization flickered in Zhongli's eyes, a subtle recognition that Xiao's words were more than mere riddles. The Yaksha adeptus had unintentionally unveiled the presence of a celestial being, and the consequences of that slip lingered in the air like an unanswered question.

As fate continued its intricate dance, the celestial secret hovered between Zhongli and Y/n, an ethereal thread that waited to be acknowledged and woven into the tapestry of their shared history. Zhongli, with the wisdom accumulated over millennia, sensed the undercurrents of unspoken truths in Xiao's cryptic words. As the Yaksha adeptus faltered, Zhongli's keen intellect pieced together the fragments of information like an intricate puzzle.

He took a thoughtful sip of his osmanthus wine, the amber liquid reflecting the ages he had witnessed. Zhongli's gaze, sharp as the stone spears he once wielded, met Xiao's eyes. "Xiao, my friend, your words may be veiled, but the echoes of ancient bonds are not easily concealed. Threads that withstand time and space."

The Yaksha adeptus remained silent, acknowledging Zhongli's astuteness. The Geo Archon continued, "You may not have spoken outright, but the hints you've woven are not lost on me. Sometimes, the unspoken carries more weight than the spoken."

Zhongli, ever the perceptive strategist, understood that Xiao's oath among the stars was bound by the constraints of explicit revelation. With a thoughtful expression, he spoke again, "While you may not disclose her exact whereabouts, could you, perhaps, lead me to the threads you sensed? A subtle guide through the constellation of destinies."

Xiao, even if the name wasn't mentioned, knew whom Zhongli referred to. Torn between his promise and the desire for the two ancient lovers to reunite, he hesitated. The weight of secrecy pressed upon him, and he pondered the consequences of revealing even a fraction of the truth. Zhongli, patient as the mountains that stood tall in Liyue, awaited Xiao's response, knowing that unraveling the mysteries of the past required delicate steps.

In the inn's quietude, the celestial dance of stars continued overhead, casting a gentle glow on the Yaksha and the Archon, as the intertwined fate of Zhongli and Y/n hung in the balance. Xiao, torn between the weight of his promise and the desire to mend the long-separated lovers, wrestled with the nuances of his oath. He found a sliver of potential leeway in the wording of his vow. He hadn't explicitly sworn against guiding Zhongli to Y/n, only against directly revealing her presence.

As Xiao contemplated the moral intricacies, Zhongli observed the internal struggle in his companion. The Yaksha adeptus finally spoke, his voice carrying the burden of conflicting loyalties, "Zhongli, I vowed not to disclose Y/n's presence directly, but leading you to the threads of fate might be within the boundaries of that oath."

The Geo Archon, with a subtle nod, acknowledged Xiao's delicate distinction. "Lead me, then, Xiao."

With a somber determination, Xiao agreed, "I'll lead you to the threads, but it's up to you to follow them, Morax." The Yaksha adeptus, with a flicker of resolve in his gaze, prepared to navigate the celestial paths that intertwined the destinies of gods and stars, hoping that the reunion would bring solace to the ancient heart that mourned in silence.

The moon bathed Wangshu Inn in a gentle glow as Zhongli, with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, approached the figure sitting by the edge. Y/n's silhouette, adorned in the celestial radiance, stirred something ancient within him. As he called out her name, "Y/n..?",

the goddess turned, and for a fleeting moment, time stood still.

Her denial hung in the air, "I do not know whom you are talking about, perhaps you are mistaken." The Goddess spoke attempting to mask the truth. However, Zhongli, now fully immersed in the recognition of his beloved, wouldn't be swayed. With words wrapped in the echoes of shared memories, he questioned her absence and the long years of yearning that had persisted.

Y/n, unable to maintain the facade any longer, confessed. The tale of her deep slumber, the celestial domain, and the fear that had kept her away unfolded. Zhongli listened with a mix of emotions – relief, understanding, and a love that time hadn't dulled.

Their reconciliation unfolded beneath the luminous embrace of the moon. Zhongli, overwhelmed by the return of his cherished companion, felt the weight of millennia lifting. As their lips met in a tender kiss, the stars themselves seemed to shimmer in approval.

Curious, Y/n asked Zhongli how he had discovered her secret. His gaze shifted to Xiao, who stood at a respectful distance, an awkward expression etched across his face. Y/n, in a surprising twist, approached Xiao not with anger but gratitude. She thanked him for leading Zhongli to her, acknowledging the complexity of the promise he had upheld.

In the quiet of the night, beneath the watchful eyes of stars and moon, the reunited lovers finally embraced the beauty of their shared past.

[yumikk101]

Echoes of Stone and Memory Part 2

Featuring: zhongli × reader, fluff, romance

Silence stretched between you and Zhongli, a quiet, unspoken understanding that the bond between you could not simply return to what it once was. But it could be built anew, stone by stone. For days, this silence was the rhythm of your return to Liyue—a steady, fragile peace

The people of Liyue believed the Geo Archon was no more, that he had perished in time’s passage. He had let himself fade into myth, guiding his people subtly, concealed within the life of a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. So you kept to the edges of the city, watching, relearning the lands you had once shaped, all under Zhongli’s quiet guidance

Each day, he would lead you through places that held fragments of your past together: a winding path along Dihua Marsh, ancient relics by the Stone Gate, temples hidden in the mountains. He seemed to sense which places would stir painful memories, carefully choosing ones where you could simply listen as he recounted Liyue’s history without the burden of personal recollection. His restraint was unwavering, always keeping the space between you respectful, yet offering you moments of comfort that you knew were meant only for you

One evening, as you returned from a distant shrine with Zhongli, a light rain began to fall. The heavens above Liyue were painted in muted grays, and the familiar scent of rain on stone filled the air. Zhongli extended an umbrella over you without a word, letting the rain soak his own shoulder. It was a small gesture, but achingly familiar—a silent care, protection offered without need for thanks

You looked up at him, a hint of a smile softening your lips. “You’ll catch a cold if you let yourself get drenched, Zhongli”

He glanced down, a faint warmth touching his gaze. “I assure you, a simple rain will do me no harm,” he replied calmly, his voice a steady murmur. But he kept the umbrella over you, hand steady and unyielding, even as droplets began to glisten on his own sleeve. You wanted to reach out, to close the space between you with a touch, yet you held back, letting the silence speak in place of words

Days turned to weeks, and the small gestures became a quiet language of their own. Zhongli would pour you tea before you asked, knowing your preference for Osmanthus’s floral notes. When the nights grew colder, he’d leave an extra shawl for you without mention, his care unobtrusive but unmistakable. These actions felt like whispers, as if he were helping you to feel again, showing you how to trust each other with every shared moment, one step at a time

One evening, while wandering through Qingce Village under the dim glow of lanterns, you paused to admire the glaze lilies swaying in the soft night breeze. Their blue petals shimmered under the moonlight, each flower a fragile memory of times long past. Your fingers grazed a petal, and a wave of recognition washed over you—of the two of you, in another time, planting these same lilies together under the stars

“They bloom only once a year,” Zhongli said softly beside you, his voice steady as the earth. “I remember when we first planted them”

You looked at him, the ache of memory stirring deeply within you. “You’ve kept them blooming all this time,” you murmured, the weight of years filling the silence between you

“Some memories,” he replied, amber eyes softened with something almost vulnerable, “are worth preserving”

Winter crept quietly into Liyue, covering the land in soft layers of frost. And one winter night, you stood beside him by the harbor, the soft flakes settling over the water’s surface. He offered you a cup of tea, his hand brushing yours with a tenderness that made you pause. You looked up, drawn to the familiar warmth in his eyes

“Zhongli,” you began, voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions building inside, “we’ve shared centuries of memories and a lifetime of silence. But… do you think that we can find something new in all of this? That there’s still something left?”

“There is, and there always will be,” he whispered, his breath warm against the cold air. “I have spent centuries holding on to fragments of you, yet I find I am still unprepared… for the moment you stand here before me, real and near”

He moved closer, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he leaned in, eyes lingering on your lips as though waiting for permission. Your heart raced, and any doubts that had lingered melted in the heat of his gaze

“Zhongli…” you murmured, your hand finding his, fingers weaving together, grounding you in the present. The tenderness in his gaze softened, replaced by a smoldering intensity that made your cheeks flush

With a quiet breath, he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss both gentle and searing, as though finally, after ages of waiting, he was tasting something forbidden and treasured. The world around you dissolved; the snow, the cold—all of it faded, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the strength of his hands as they held you close

When you pulled away for a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, the faintest smile on his lips as he whispered, “I never stopped loving you… not once.” His thumb brushed over your cheek and this time it was you who drew him in, capturing his lips in a kiss that grew more heated, more fervent with every passing second. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, only the warmth of his embrace. His hands moved, one slipping up your back, tracing delicate paths that made your skin hum under his touch

As the night wore on, neither of you broke away. Every glance, every touch spoke of the years of longing, the promises unspoken, and the passion you had both kept hidden. Under the silent snowfall, you found each other anew, with no need for words—only the unbreakable bond that had brought you back to him, that had kept him waiting across lifetimes

-End-

Author note: I hope you enjoyed this really short fanfic I'm sorry I can't write more parts to it it's just a fleeting idea that came to me and I wanted to post it for my supporters to read again thank you for reading ✨