#The wood of Brethil

[outofangband]

5-sentence prompt: This was her grave, but she did not sleep.

Prompt: send a sentence and I’ll write five more, still accepting them

The woods grew dark early and to collapse in this cold was to die in it. No one pursued her nor had for some time and her pace had finally slowed, out of necessity rather than will. The snow upon the ground made for a deceitful quiet. It was new enough that the only disturbance was her own prints. The feather of a crow lay among fallen conifer needles, its owner gone or perhaps dead in the icy waters she could no longer hear. She had not seen these woods since she was a child when once more she was certain she would die in them.

Note: I wanted to either do my Aerin in Brethil au or one of my other long Aerin fics but I didn’t remember how much I had discussed the first on here. So here is some post second encounter with Glaurung era Morwen. I hope this is ok, my writing has been pretty lackluster lately.

[melestasflight]

On the appointed day, on the morning of Midsummer, the trumpets of the Eldar greeted the rising of the sun; and in the east was raised the standard of the sons of Fëanor, and in the west the standard of Fingon, High King of the Noldor. Then Fingon looked out from the walls of Eithel Sirion, and his host was arrayed in the valleys and the woods upon the east of Ered Wethrin, well hid from the eyes of the Enemy; but he knew that it was very great. For there all the Noldor of Hithlum were assembled, together with Elves of the Falas and Gwindor’s company from Nargothrond, and he had great strength of Men: upon the right were the host of Dor-lómin and all the valour of Húrin and Huor his brother, and to them had come Haldir of Brethil with many men of the woods.  Then Fingon looked towards Thangorodrim, and there was a dark cloud about it, and a black smoke went up; and he knew that the wrath of Morgoth was aroused, and that their challenge was accepted. A shadow of doubt fell upon Fingon’s heart; and he looked eastwards, seeking if he might see with elvensight the dust of Anfauglith rising beneath the hosts of Maedhros. He knew not that Maedhros was hindered in his setting-forth by the guile of Uldor the accursed, who deceived him with false warnings of assault from Angband.

"Of the Fifth Battle: The Nirnaeth Arnoediad", The Silmarillion

[landscapesscenerypeopleplaces]

Brethil Forest

Brethil (Sindarin: Silver Birch) Was a Forest in Beleriand Bordered Along its Southern Side by the River Teglin, a Fributary to Sirion. Teglin had 3 Tributaries of its Own, the Stream Celebros & the Small Rivers Malduin & Glithui as Well as 2 Minor Tributary Streams Near its Source. Brethil Was Home to the Haladin & the Drúedain, the Wild Men of the Woods. 

x x x  x x  x x x

[hhimring]

Ten First Lines of Tiny Pieces

@sallysavestheday tagged me for a first line meme (thank you!).

I've recently written a lot of really tiny pieces and had lost track of them a bit. So this is really more of a bit of housekeeping rather than that meme although the meme prompted it!

Links go to a number of different sites.

I grew tall from a shoot; my lord shoots me at need.

 From the wood it came, to the shadows it went

Not often did Gilraen receive any letters in Rivendell from her family or friends at home, although unwritten messages passed between them, keeping her abreast of some of their news. 

Rosemary for Remembrance

Gil-galad looks out on the dawn of the festival of Nost-Na-Lothion.

A Day for Revelry

My dear brother,

You will already have heard of the disastrous loss that overtook us in the mid of victory, unless the messengers went astray—although in these dark times the arrival of messages must always be uncertain!

Gloredhel, in Brethil, to Galdor of Dor-lomin. F.A. 458

Her husband had gone with Aldarion on his voyage.

Numenorean ficlet for Neurodivergent Arda Week (untitled)

‘You can’t,’ Ainairos said. ‘I would like to clear them from our beaches, too—all the flawed jewels they gave, pretending to bestow gifts when they were simply getting rid of sparkling garbage.

Opals and Diamonds Strewn upon the Shores

After the Fell Winter came the floods.

Washed away by the rains and the snows

Mithrellas leans out into the dark and listens to Amroth’s voice on the wind.

Voice from the Sea

‘All right,’ said Galadriel, looking up at the stars.

Further than all other eyes, more clearly than all other ears

It was a long time before she returned to Ost-in-Edhil.

That strength which in old days moved earth and heaven

Not tagging anyone, but I will very happily read the first lines of anyone who would like to do the meme and flag me.

[silmarillion-dnd]

Men:

Masterlist

Bëorians: 

About: Also known as the house of Bëor and the first house of the Edain. Bëorians are said to be easier to pity than laughter and are crafty and quick in learning folk. They were known for being steadfast and serious. Their main alliance is with the people of Finarfin. They speak Sindarin (common) and Taliska, the language of the houses of Bëor and Hador.

Description: The Bëorians are described as having brown or dark hair, grey or brown eyes, and alikeness to the Noldor in look, and a broad build. Their skin was said to be pale to swarthy (light or dark).

Haladin:

About: The Haladin´s, also known as the house of Haleth, the second house of the Edain, are resident in Thargelion, and Brethil. They prefer to fight with axes, and are a strongheaded folk, known for their stubbornness.  They prefer fighting in forested areas and are known as the best group of Edain to fight in the forest, and they were said to have a custom specifically training of war in forests. They prefer not to associate with others outside of their own people and both Orcs, Edains, and elvers tend to keep away from them. Their customs and traditions seemed strange to both other Edains and elvers alike. They were known for being traditional folk who were secretive and hostile about adopting new things and costumes, and few of them were said to marry. They speak Sindarin (common) and Halethian, their own language.

Description: The Haladin is one of the small Edain clans in height, they were described as looking a bit like the Bëorians which means they probably have brown and dark hair and grey eyes.

Hadorians:

About: The Hadorians, house of Hador, is the first house of the Edain. They are the tallest clan of the Edain and are sometimes taller than the Eldar, they are also known for being quick to anger yet still generous and quick to laughter. They are the largest house of the Edain.

Description: The Hadorians are the tallest people of the three houses of the Edain, and are known for their mostly golden, few were said to have brown, hair, fair (light) skin, and blue eyes. They are said to be built for enduring cold and distances (nomadic (not sure what´s meant by this)) life. They speak Sindarin (common) and Taliska, the language of the houses of Bëor and Hador.

Beornings:

About: Beornings are the only playable changeling that can change into the shape of a bear, they can speak to animals, and prefer to live in mountains or forests up north. They enjoy the wild nature more than any city. They are descendants of the Northmen of the Edain, Éothéod, descending from the Haladin. Beorings are distrusting of everyone but their rivals are mainly orcs, but they bear a bigger distrust of Dwarves more than others, for presumed greed and the praise they give to metal. They speak Sindarin (common) and Taliska (language of the house of Bëor and Hador). Beornings are great bakers and start out with a package of honey-cakes, which they are famous for.

Description: Beornings have bearlike features and are bigger than other humans. They tend to wear raw materials, mainly wool, clothes, and fur, and keep away from any form of metal jewelry as they have seen what greed does to people.

Drúedain:

About: The Drúedain was said to be the most pure hearted of all the Edain, yet they suffered under the ignorance and persecution of others when they saw the Drúedain. They are known for their phenomenal tracking skills, knowledge about plants, and their enchanted wood and stone carvings which they used to practice their spells and charms (rune magic). They are said to be in temperament to a Hobbit but can be ruthless and grim if needed, less than Dwarves. They used caves in the mountains as storehouses which they also used for sleeping in the winter where they hibernate. These places were seen as secret and even the Haladin, who is the only known other group who communicated with them, who they were great friends, although not allowed to know their location. Otherwise, they live a nomadic lifestyle in tents and makeshift shelters of trees. The Drúedain used poisoned darts and arrows as weapons, and mainly lived off eating all kinds of fungi, which they knew how to prepare safely and passed the knowledge on to the Haladin. They, sometimes, speak Sindarin (common) and Drúadan (their own language). You get + knowledge of plants and can only play as good, you also start knowing 2 rune spells.

Description: Their appearance was said to be unlovely (according to the Eldar), and their height of 4 feet, wide faces with low deep sat eyes, heavy brows, broad flat noses, and wide mouths let people believe they were savages and beats.

Easterlings:

About: Easterlings, the largest population of Edains, are known as a headstrong folk who came from the East with different cultures and backgrounds. Some of them were early corrupted by Morgoth while others thought with the Elvers and the rest stayed in the east. They inhabit Rhún, all lands East, Rhovanion, March of Maedhros, and Hithlum. Tspeak Sindarin (common) and all the languages spoken in the east. 

Description: They are said to have dark hair and skin.

Forodwaith:

About: Almost nothing is known about the Forodwaith as they usually kept to themself, only that they lived far Noth and might have been the oldest of the Edains according to some sources. They preferred living in icy areas, some even close to Angband, and the most common land they lived on was called Forodwaith after the people. Forofwaith means people of the North in Sindarin. Nothing is said about their language but they presumably have their own and they probably speak Sindarin.

Description: They are described as being hardy people, they were said to be described by Vikings, and in some drafts and letters about Ælfwine Tolkien refers to them as Vikings, which means they presumably looked something alike to the Scandinavian people.

Pros: Huamans are not restricted to any class, although some classes make more sense when you choose your origin. They have + 1 for their Array in the first round of a fight. Humans have alliances with all the other races which means that everyone around you is less hostile and usually have a friendly approach to you, which also makes it easier for you to disguise yourself when moving on to enemy territory.

Cons: Depending on your origin others might be mistrust of you depending on where you are.

[velvet4510]

It’s up for debate whether LaCE is canon and whether Lúthien would care to adhere to it or not…

[serregon]

hm if Húrin was raised in Brethil, then he probably brought Túrin there. maybe spent a few months with his grandma’s people. maybe Túrin first met Brandir when they were both around 6 or 7 years old, might as well introduce two heirs of Edain lordships to each other. we also know that Brandir became disabled after a childhood accident, maybe he broke a leg that never really healed. so what if Túrin and Brandir were playing together when Brandir had that accident, maybe roughhousing in the woods too close to a cliff

[outofangband]

Poisonous plants and their lore in Beleriand part one

Note: the information provided about the effects of poisonous plants are the effects for real humans; I headcanon that toxin tolerance varies far more widely among elven peoples so I’ll specify

Medicinal plants part one

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Societal world building Masterlist

My second post in the series will focus on poisonous properties of plants that appear in canon!

Wolfsbane (Aconitum lycoctonum) is a blue flower also called monkshood that grows in mountainous regions. It contains a neurotoxin called acotin that causes gastrointestinal symptoms, burning, tingling, convulsions and can cause death.

In Beleriand it likely grew primarily in the Ered Wethrin and thus was encountered by the Northern Sindar, the Noldor and the Hadorian people. It’s name in Sindarin translates more to blue tower. Although the effects of the poison are mild to elves, it has posed a risk to their animals.

The Noldor occasionally use a substance derived from several plants including wolfsbane as a numbing agent. Tingling or numbness is a common effect of wolfsbane toxin (in both humans and elves)

It’s gained infamy as a killer of wolves; in later ages, some Sindar elves plant it by graves and monuments to depict the fall of the Isle of Wolves and Sauron’s defeat by Lúthien and Huan

The word in the Hadorian language means horse bane and it is often destroyed on site, especially in their fields and along grazing routes. Gifting these petals to another is considered a grave threat

Also little personal note: . I have ideas relating to Aerin about this (not my poisoning post actually though that is on my mind) Also speaking of poisonous plants and post Nírnaeth Dor-lómin, henbane has appeared in several historical accounts of witch trials so I want to write further about that too.

Ragwort is a common flower, often considered a weed, growing in dry fields and steppes. It’s generally considered to be more dangerous to horses than humans but can cause illness if ingested

In Beleriand it likely grew primarily in Dorthonion and in the northeastern plains such as Himlad and parts of Thargelion

Humans (including in real life) can eat honey that’s made from ragwort and the Bëorians did; some report mild psychoactive properties from this honey, leading to its cultivation among some curious artists and scholars

The Avari of Northeastern Beleriand use yellow wildflowers including ragwort in wedding ceremonies

Wood anemone are small white flowers that grow in woodlands.

In Beleriand it likely grew in deciduous forests such as Brethil, the woods of Núath and parts of Doriath

These flowers are not poisonous to elves beyond mild increased oral sensitivity and are occasionally used as garnishes in Doriath, especially in late spring and early summer

In Haladin folklore, clearings and groves where wood anemone grows in abundance are the site of unmarked graves or other dangers

Other notes

Nutmeg is used as a psychoactive agent in Valinor and there are groves of nutmeg plants in the gardens of Lórien

There are plants that have poisonous effects or psychoactive ones only on elves rather than the opposite

In addition to the canon poison plants, I’m also going to do a post about the environmental damage to flora caused by Glaurung and around Angband including the poisonous plants and mushrooms that thrive within Angband often cultivated by Maiar there

[melestasflight]

The realm of Fingon was no more; and the sons of Fëanor wandered as leaves before the wind. Their arms were scattered, and their league broken; and they took to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon, mingling with the Green-elves of Ossiriand, bereft of their power and glory of old. In Brethil some few of the Haladin yet dwelt in the protection of their woods, and Handir son of Haldir was their lord; but to Hithlum came back never one of Fingon’s host, nor any of the Men of Hador’s house, nor any tidings of the battle and the fate of their lords. But Morgoth sent thither the Easterlings that had served him, denying them the rich lands of Beleriand which they coveted; and he shut them in Hithlum and forbade them to leave it. Such was the reward he gave them for their treachery to Maedhros: to plunder and harass the old and the women and the children of Hador’s people. The remnant of the Eldar of Hithlum were taken to the mines of the north and laboured there as thralls, save some that eluded him and escaped into the wilds and the mountains.

"Of the Fifth Battle: The Nirnaeth Arnoediad", The Silmarillion

[theworldisquietheretooquiet]

Now that I know you are also a fan, could I request any of the prompts from the list you might like to write for Larnach’s daughter?

-@outofangband

Thank you!!

It doesn't exactly fit any of the prompts sorry, but I wanted to write it. It could work for 'the shadows grew long in the forest' or 'seeking the unknown' I guess!

They all have Sindarin names, which isn't really realistic but oh well. Set in Brethil after she goes there. 834 words.

Cw: attempted sexual assualt, some bloodthirsty violence

Duvainel is hunting an animal. The trees grow close here and she must slow her running just a little as she darts through them. But she isn’t worried that her prey will escape. She can hear its breathing, ragged and panicked just up ahead; and if she focuses, she can glimpse the odd flash of skin through the leaves.

Her heartbeat is loud in her ears and sweat drips from her forehead as the ground steadily inclines but Duvainel still runs. The stretch of her muscles, the thwack of her feet on the ground thrills her. A thorned branch slashes her forehead, but she barely feels it. She grips her knife tighter and speeds up her pursuit. She feels how close the animal is to giving up, to falling. It is looking behind desperately for help.

The memory of that sort of fear is a vague thing now and power thrums through her veins.

Her prey stumbles on a root and trips, crying out, to the ground. Duvainel pounces.

The beast fights with all the desperation of a cornered animal, but it is weak and weaponless. It is not a fair fight, Duvainel thinks to herself, with violent amusement as her knife stabs into its gut. Its chest. They never are.

She is just getting ready to deliver the death blow when she hears clapping, and turns around to see Farrien, leaning on a tree nearby.

“Very impressive, Larnach’s daughter.”

Duvainel makes a futile effort to get some of the blood off her hands, then walks over to her friend and grins.

“I was worried I’d lost him at the stream, but he made such a great clammer through the thicket, it was almost too easy.”

Farrien laughs and her eyes are bright, shining with the joy of the hunt as Duvainel assumes her own are.

At that moment, Prestadis appears from the other direction and approaches them, smiling too.

“I told you a knife would be sufficient, didn’t I?” Duvainel gives her an exaggerated eye roll but acquiesces.

“Yes, you were right. An axe would have been too cumbersome.”  

The animal begins to whimper softly and Farrien scowls, walking towards it and delivering a hard kick to its side. It falls silent.

“Finish it off Duvainel, won’t you. That way we can be back at the settlement before dark. There are worst things than this filth in the woods after nightfall.”

She nods and makes her way back over to her prey, bends down and places her knife against its neck.

She looks at his torn and destroyed clothes and smiles slowly. When he had arrived at the banquet last night, he had clearly been so proud of them. As he had greeted his friends, he’d stood with a strange posture to accentuate his outfit. Duvainel and Farrien, from where they sat across the room, had made eye contact right at that moment, and had to stifle their laughs.

She had not been laughing later when he had come into the kitchen as she was washing the plates. She had smiled at him and thanked him, for his kindness at bringing her the remaining cups. Afterwards she had wondered how she could have been so foolish.

As soon as he had brushed too close to her, as he put them in the sink, she had known what was about to happen. She could not think what to do. There were no woods to escape through. No bright-eyed Elf-men to rescue her. But just as she was standing, paralysed by terror, thinking how this was meant to be a safe place, Prestadis had walked in.

The man had scowled only for a moment before bowing, smirking at her, and walking away.

Both Farrien and Prestadis had held her all night, as she vomited and cried. Then, just as the first rays of sun were appearing they had turned to her and said: “Do you want to see how the women of Haleth’s House deal with men like that?”

Duvainel presses her knife harder against the animal’s neck and watches as a crimson droplet appears. Then in one quick, savage motion she slashes his throat. The hot, red blood spills onto her hands and something in her chest slots back into place. She laughs in delight.

Farrien pats her on the back and grins. “I’m glad it worked for you, Duvainel.”

“What will we do with the body?” She asks them both, curiously.

Prestadis shrugs. “Burn it and scatter the bones in the river. They will assume orcs attacked him on his way home.”

Duvainel thinks for a moment. “Can I remove his head, first?”

“Oh, Duvainel,” says Farrien. “You are going to fit in.”

Prestadis offers her her knife since it’s the sharpest, but even with it, it’s slow, gruesome work. She collapses back on her knees as she finally finishes, setting the head on the ground in front of her.

“So,” says Prestadis. “How do you feel now, Duvainel?”

She smiles. “I feel righteous.”

[queerofthedagger]

yes! it is only mentioned very in passing, but it says:

Then Fingon looked out from the walls of Eithel Sirion, and his host was arrayed in the valleys and the woods upon the east of Ered Wethrin, well hid from the eyes of the enemy; but he knew that it was very great. For there all the Noldor of Hithlum were assembled, together with Elves of the Falas and Gwindor's company from Nargothrond, and he had great strength of Men: upon the right were the host of Dor-lómin and all the valour of Húrin and Huor his brother, and to them had come Haldir of Brethil with many men of the woods.

This does of course not specify whether Círdan himself came, but considering that a few years after the Dagor Bragollach Círdan -- or at the very least his ships -- came to Fingon's aid when he was assaulted by Morgoth:

But King Fingon was hard put to it to hold back the army of Angband that came down from the north; and battle was joined upon the very plains of Hithlum. There Fingon was outnumbered; but the ships of Círdan sailed in great strength up the Firth of Drengist, and in the hour of need the Elves of the Falas came upon the host of Morgoth from the west. Then the Orcs broke and fled, and the Eldar had the victory, and their horsed archers pursued them even into the Iron Mountains.

I would think it's probably reasonable to assume that they all also fought under Fingon's banner at the Nirnaeth!

I have a question and don't find the answer easily so maybe one of you know :

Does Cirdan and the Falas participate in the Nirnaeth ?

I know they accept refugies after the battle but I don't remember about their implication in it.

Thanks in advance for the answers :)

[fedonciadale]

What’s in a touch? - Part 2 - The Woods of Brethil

So, here is part 2 and another entry for @jonsa-week, free choice day, for the lovely mods! Also on AO3.

When the swirling lights died down, Sansa and Jon found themselves in a clearing in the midst of an autumn wood. The sun was playing with the leaves that were shivering in a slight breeze. They looked around in wonder. Behind them there was a distinct thunk.

“OW!”, they heard.

Sansa turned and a woman stood just behind them, clutching her head. Apparently, she had managed to bang her head.

Sansa looked at her in awe. She wore a very short skirt and a white blouse, and on her nose, was something that looked like a very strange kind of jewellery. There were two large pink circles around her eyes and Sansa realised that they somehow were fastened with a bar behind her ears. When the woman moved her head, Sansa saw that in the pink circles there was glass. She must be from this ‘Oxford’. O gods, she looks strange. Why does she have such short hair?

“Well, we are somewhere else,” Jon said. “But I’m not sure where we are. I had the impression that this ‘Oxford’ Maester Wolkan talked about should be a city?” Sadly, he had let go of Sansa’s hand as soon as the other woman appeared.

The woman with the pink jewellery snorted. “This is not Oxford, this is Westeros.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, we’ve just come from Westeros. This is some other place. I don’t know these strange trees nor these little white and yellow flowers.”

The woman looked at her just over the edge of the strange pink circles and raised an eyebrow. “I just started a computer programme to log into Westeros to collect clues for my new book project. I must be in Westeros.”

“No, this should be Oxford.”, Jon insisted.

The woman snorted. “You apparently have no idea what you are talking about, you imbeciles. Of course, this is not Oxford. As if Oxford would be in the middle of the woods.”

Sansa felt a bit intimidated by the woman’s air of superiority, but she remembered she had a mission. “So, you are from Oxford?”, she asked hopefully.

She tried to smile sweetly. She could see that Jon made no effort to save the situation. His brow was furrowed and he looked warily at the woman. “We need to talk with the maesters there.”

The woman stopped rubbing her head. “Maesters? There are no maesters in Oxford, only professors. And since you talk of Maesters, I must be in Westeros.”

Jon shook his head stubbornly. “No, we just swallowed a potion to get to Oxford.”

Sansa sighed. “Apparently, the potion did not bring us to Oxford, but somewhere else and just brought someone from Oxford to us.”

The woman crossed her arms across her breasts. “This is the newest art of programming. I can’t believe I’m stuck in another world. Probably some bland traditional fantasy by the look of it.”

Sansa looked at Jon, helpless, and Jon shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea what to do either.

Sansa decided to introduce herself, when suddenly all around them, men with arrows nocked on their bows, sprang up. Sansa yelped. She hadn’t seen anything.

The men looked strange, their ears were somewhat pointed and it was difficult to look at them. Their cloaks blended into the green of the wood.

“Lower your bows,” someone said, probably the leader. “These are no fell orcs, but mortal men. You can see it in their eyes.”

“Strictly speaking, I am a woman, and I am Carol Honton, a famous professor for medieval English.”, the woman said. She scrutinized her environment and sniffed disdainfully.

“Elves,” she sighed. “I suppose we are in a traditional fluffy fantasy world.” She managed to look haughtily over the strange pink circles that framed her eyes.

Jon took a step, so that he was before her and gave a short bow.

“I am Jon Snow and this is Sansa Stark. I don’t really know, how we got here. We wanted to go to a place called Oxford, where this Lady Honton comes from. We are from a different,… ” he stopped. “.. world you could say.”

The leader of the group carefully gazed into Jon’s eyes. “I’m Mablung, hunter to King Elu Thingol of Doriath. State your purpose.”

He gave a slight wave to one of his men, who began to relax.

Jon scratched his head. “Well, a magic potion brought us here.”

“I suppose, you could say, we are searching for something that will help us to defeat evil beings that threaten us, mortal men, as you probably would say.” Sansa added.

Mablung looked worried. “So Morgoth’s clutch is on your world as well.”

Sansa decided to go along with it. “He is the Night King in our world.”

Lady Honton tsked. “You’ve got that wrong, Sansa. George RR Martin is not into writing villains in the traditional way. Tolkien did that. He is all good against evil and living happily ever after. These are beautiful elves”, she waved at the people around them. “And the orcs are ugly. This tells you enough to know that Tolkien is just bland. I’ve never read any of this boring stuff. It is my luck to be apparently stuck in Tolkien.”

Sansa shook her head, irritated. What is she talking about?

Jon came to her help. “Since we haven’t reached our real destination, I think we will just try to return and won’t bother you.”

Lady Honton sprang forward and rudely grabbed Jon’s sleeve. “I won’t let you go. You are Jon Snow and I am determined to uncover your destiny. I won’t leave your side until I have found out.” She eyes Sansa from the side. “Why is Sansa here? She isn’t important.”

Jon tried to disentangle his arm from the woman’s grasp, but it seemed like short of breaking her fingers he would not get rid of the woman.

Mablung was searching in his pockets. “While you are here, you could be of help to us. My king entailed a task to me. Glaurung, the dragon, has left Angband and he is looking for Turin, Hurin’s son. I must needs find him, before the dragon does.”

He showed them two tiny beautifully painted pictures, the one was a raven-haired tall man with a sad face. Sansa looked at him and said: “He has the same facial expression as you when you’re brooding, Jon.”

Mablung sighed. “He has ample reason. He was separated from his family at the age of eight and his path has been a dark one ever since.”

The other picture was of a blond and determined looking woman. “That’s Nienor, his sister. She fell under the spell of the dragon and forgot who she is. She has been lost for years.”

Sansa took the pictures and because the sun was shining she turned a bit, so that the shadow of her head fell on the pictures.

“What shall we tell Turin and Nienor, if we find them?”, she asked.

“Tell them to flee the dragon at all costs and that they are welcome to Doriath. The king has long pardoned Turin.” Mablung the hunter said.

“If we find them, we’ll tell them.”, Sansa reassured him.

Mablung sighed. “You could tell Turin that he can’t kill the dragon on his own.”

To Sansa that sounded very much like something Jon would do and she nodded.

Mablung bowed to her. “Your help is very welcome, fair lady. I would caution you to be very careful, though. While searching your way back, I could order some of my men to escort you, although we are hard pressed.”

Sansa curtsied to the friendly hunter. “Thank you, my lord. But we have means to travel back.”

“Sansa, we should go back and try again to reach Oxford, we have our own war to fight.”, Jon said. He was still trying to disentangle himself from the grasp of that professor, who still held his sleeve as if her life depended on it.  

He took a step towards Sansa, finally disentangling himself from the grasp. Jon bent to her ear, his mouth coming within a hair’s breadth of her face.

“Sansa, there is a dragon around here, we’d better get home.” he whispered under his breath. Sansa’s ear tingled where his lips almost brushed the shell of her ears.

“If the dragon comes, we’ll escape, but I don’t think there is enough for another journey”, she whispered back with a meaningful glance at her bag with the potion.

Then she spoke for the benefit of all. “While we look for Turin and Nienor, we can talk with Lady Honton. This is not Oxford, but she is from Oxford and she might be able to help us.”

Lady Honton again looked down her nose full of scorn. “I’m not very interested in talking to you, Sansa, you are not one of the original five.”

Sansa was taken aback and wondered again what in the name of the Old Gods this annoying lady was talking about, but it was Jon who answered.

“I would appreciate if you could make an effort to be more courteous to my sister,” he said, his eyes blazing.

For the first time Lady or Professor Honton looked contrived. “I’m sorry, of course you are protective of your sister, but Sansa still has to learn that she is not that important and that she has to abide by your decisions. She should have died already anyway, her purpose in the story is done.”

If she was trying to be more courteous there I don’t want to know how she is when she is rude.

Jon frowned, but held his mouth.

Mablung had followed their exchange with a puzzled look on his face. “You are sure, you don’t need an escort, fair lady?” he asked Sansa.

“We won’t need anyone, I would thank you for your consideration.” Sansa curtsied again.

“If you had something to eat that would be greatly appreciated, though”, she added as an afterthought. Rations had been scarce at Winterfell, and they might as well make the most of their strange trip.

Mablung waved towards one of his men who brought several packages that looked like someone had folded or crumpled leaves.

“Here,” he gave Sansa the packages. “This is lembas. Gladly we part of it, for such a fair and kind lady.”

Sansa took the packages and held them to her nose. There was an air of freshness about the leaves that she felt like her nose was filled with the crisp air that came with rain.

Lady Honton opened her mouth, no doubt to say something nasty about Mablung’s gift, but the hunter just shot her a look, that silenced her. Sansa made a mental note to try that look once in a while with Lord Glover.

They parted on amiable terms, at least as far as Sansa and Jon were concerned and Mablung and his companions left them.

“I know how this story is going to end.” Professor Honton said. “Turin will slay the dragon, save his sister and will be welcomed back in this fluffy elven kingdom. Traditional fantasy like Tolkien is so predictable.”

“Fluffy?” Jon asked.

“Yes, fluffy,” Professor Honton answered. “Like Sansa’s dresses, all girly and lacey. Not very practical and absolutely unrealistic, not like Westeros.” She sniffed. “Sansa would probably adore these elves.”

Jon shot Sansa a look his eyes widening and Sansa could have sworn that his eyes lingered on the embroidery at the front of her dress.

“I think, that Mablung was a true knight, and indeed I think it was nice of him to give food to people who are strangers to him.”, Sansa observed, her voice a bit strained.

Professor Honton waved dismissively at Sansa and turned to Jon. “Now, tell me, you are ‘the prince who was promised’ aren’t you?”

[biginvisiblespider]

re-reading the silmarillion again <- filled with sad

[tenth-sentence]

The People of Haleth were at first untouched by the northern war, for they dwelt to the southward in the Forest of Brethil; but now there was battle between them and the invading Orcs, for they were stout-hearted men and would not lightly forsake the woods that they loved.

"The Silmarillion" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[ruiniel-rb-tolkien]

Hold up, how's this got so few notes?

-anyway-

I love Tuor, but Haleth?!

Saw her father and brother die and was left SOLO to lead her people

But at last Haldad was slain in a sortie against the Orcs; and Haldar, who rushed out to save his father’s body from their butchery, was hewn down beside him. Then Haleth held the people together, though they were without hope; and some cast themselves in the rivers and were drowned.

She held up barricaded with her people against the Orc until fortuitously Caranthir arrived

But seven days later, as the Orcs made their last assault and had already broken through the stockade, there came suddenly a music of trumpets, and Caranthir with his host came down from the north and drove the Orcs into the rivers.

One of my personal favorite lines in the Silm ensues:

Then Caranthir looked kindly upon Men and did Haleth great honour; and he offered her recompense for her father and brother. And seeing, over late, what valour there was in the Edain, he said to her: ‘If you will remove and dwell further north, there you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar, and free lands of your own.’

But Haleth was proud, and unwilling to be guided or ruled, and most of the Haladin were of like mood. Therefore she thanked Caranthir, but answered: ‘My mind is now set, lord, to leave the shadow of the mountains, and go west, whither others of our kin have gone.’

My girl was an EXPLORER and no one batted an eye before

they took Haleth for their chief;

She was SO determined:

Soon however Haleth desired to move westward again; and though most of her people were against this counsel, she led them forth once more; and they went without help or guidance of the Eldar, and passing over Celon and Aros they journeyed in the perilous land between the Mountains of Terror and the Girdle of Melian. That land was even then not yet so evil as it after became, but it was no road for mortal Men to take without aid, and Haleth only brought her people through it with hardship and loss, constraining them to go forward by the strength of her will.

She inspired devotion even after all of that:

But there were many who loved the Lady Haleth and wished to go whither she would, and dwell under her rule;

MY PEEPS can we have a moment to dwell on the fact that Finrod intervened for her people? The Exiles just love her. She's like catnip to them or something.

Now Brethil was claimed as part of his realm by King Thingol, though it was not within the Girdle of Melian, and he would have denied it to Haleth; but Felagund, who had the friendship of Thingol, hearing of all that had befallen the People of Haleth, obtained this grace for her: that she should dwell free in Brethil, upon the condition only that her people should guard the Crossings of Teiglin against all enemies of the Eldar, and allow no Orcs to enter their woods.

Here's your Diplomacy right here

To this Haleth answered: ‘Where are Haldad my father, and Haldar my brother? If the King of Doriath fears a friendship between Haleth and those who have devoured her kin, then the thoughts of the Eldar are strange to Men.’

*forehead kiss*

~~

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 2

Haleth vs Tuor

Haleth:

The Chieftain of the Haladin who kept her people alive during a siege by orcs and later led them to the Forest of Brethil.

Love her so badass 😍

She's a badass good girl, proud and a lesbian queen (just trust me on that one)

Tuor:

A hero of Men, the husband of Idril and favoured of Ulmo who led the survivors of Gondolin after its fall.

Descended from two out of the three houses of the Edain. Escaped slavery like a badass. Killed so many of Morgoth's mannish servants, they put a bounty on his head. WAS LITERALLY A MESSENGER OF ONE OF THE VALAR! Found Gondolin. Y'know, the one city MORGOTH HIMSELF COULDN'T FIND!? Was so well liked in Gondolin, that Maeglin was the only one who didn't love him. He killed Maeglin. Wrote "The Horns of Ylmir" for little Eärendil on the way to Sirion (which is the first poem Tolkien wrote). Mysteriously disappeared. No one knows what happened to him after he sailed West and the elves like him so much they just pretend he's definitely still alive. That would possibly make him the oldest full-blooded man to ever live. Actually, it would make him the oldest part-man to ever live as well, because Dior (who was born only two years before him) died. All other peredhil are either younger than him, descended from him, or both. Also helped create Elrond, which is the best thing a person can do

Tuor is (possibly) the only man to be granted immortality, he's a special little guy. I think he was pleased to see his adoptive elf dad again and more people should be sad about how he lost two whole families. He's ulmo's favourite guy and he got to marry idril with no fuss (unlike literal every other man-elf couple) AND he might have got to go to valinor despite the ban and tuor being a human, everybody makes exceptions for this guy!

Tuor is a trans woman because fuck we need trans representation and who better to provide us that than the human adopted by an Elf, who loves the song and freedom of the sea, who was chosen by the sea-god to be the messenger of the sea, who led the survivors of Gondolin to safety and said fuck it, we're gonna sail to the west and be together with my awesome wife forever! In conclusion: vote for Tuor, she's best girl together with her Elf wife.

Round 2 masterpost

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Elements of Morgoth’s Curse on Húrin’s Family

There’s a lot of things going on in the Narn i Hîn Húrin, so I wanted to lay out what I think are the different elements of Morgoth’s curse. There’s a lot of aspects, from the things he does directly (send forces to capture Amon Rudh, send Glaurung to Nargothrond), supernatural bad luck (Túrin killing Beleg), and things that I read as more subtle negative influences.

First, I think the curse broadly influences both Túrin and everyone around him to be on their worst behaviour. It can’t make anyone do anything, it can’t override free will, but it can encourage bad behaviour and bad decisions. We’ve got one statement directly pointing to this, from Mablung to Saeros when the latter deliberately antagonizes Túrin and gets a jug thrown at his face for his trouble: “I think that some shadow of the North has reached out to touch us tonight. Take heed, lest you do the will of Morgoth in your pride, and remember than you are of the Eldar.”

My inclination is to think that Mablung has percieved correctly here, amd that Morgoth is doing everything he can to get Túrin out of Doriath, where Morgoth’s power to harm him is limited. This influence encourages Saeros’ hostility, Túrin’s revenge, and Túrin’s hasty decision to leave Doriath and refuse to explain his actions.

There are a lot of things that I read this way - Túrin’s stubbornness, his preying on civilians and travellers during his early days with the outlaws, the outlaws’ striking cruelty towards Beleg, Androg’s behaviour, Mîm’s resentments and later betrayal, Túrin’s arrogance and hostility towards dissent in Nargothrond, and even Morwen and Nienor’s determination to leave Doriath and go with the scouting mission to Nargothrond are all things chosen by the characters themselves, but in the above context it’s easy to suspect a subtle temptation underlying them. And the cruelty of the influence on the family of Húrin, in particular, is that the influence is driving, I think, a tragedy specifically directed at operating through hamartia - a virtue that becomes a vice in excess - to turn courage into recklessness and stubborn determination into obstinance.

Once Túrin leaves Doriath, the curse begins to work in some more direct ways. One subtle implication of the Narn is that Morgoth is clouding Túrin’s good memories of Doriath so that he will not return.

Coming suddenly out of his thought he said to Beleg: “The elf-maiden whom you named: I owe her well for her timely witness; yet I cannot recall her. Why did she watch my ways?”

Then Beleg looked stragely at him. “Why indeed?” he said. “Túrin, have you lived always with your heart and half your mind far away? You walked with Nellas in the woods of Doriath, when you were a boy.”

“That was long ago,” said Túrin. “Or so my childhood now seems, and a mist is over it - save the memory of my father’s house in Dor-lómin. But why should I have walked with an elf-maiden?”

A third way, and probably the most dramatic one, in which the curse works is as a very powerful bad-luck charm. Túrin accidentally killing Beleg, Túrin finding Nienor unconscious and naked on the burial mound of Finduilas, and possibly even the love triangle between Finduilas, Gwindor, and Túrin.

These three elements of the curse can operate whether Morgoth knows where Túrin is or not (the Narn does mention Morgoth loses track of him from time to time, until Túrin’s determination for open war periodically reveals him again).

And then the fourth element is Morgoth acting directly - sending forces after Túrin on Amon Rudh, sending Glaurung to Nargothrond, having Glauring hypnotize first Túrin and then Nienor, sending Glaurung to Brethil. I almost wonder if Morgoth at this point infuses some part of his spirit into Glaurung; prior to this the dragon seems like a large and dangerous, but basically animal-like monster, whereas in the Narn he’s intelligent, manipulative, and malicious.

And there are others things where it’s hard to tell what aspect of the curse is at work, but connections seem more than coincidental. Saeros taunt Túrin about the women of Dor-lómin “running like beasts clad only in their hair”; Nienor, enchanted by Glaurung, runs, “flying like a deer among the trees with her hair streaming in the wind of her speed” and tears off her clothing. Saeros leaps to his death at a chasm of a river; so, later, does Nienor (at Caben-en-Aras, the Deer’s Leap). The wording, the recurrence if the word ‘deer’, indicates that Tolkien intended us to make this connection, but what does that mean?

It seems to easy to claim that Morgoth had it all planned out from the start, from Saeros to Nienor; there are far too many twists and turns in Túrin’s story for it to seem plausible that Morgoth could orchestrate it that precisely, from start to finish. He’s got to be playing things by ear and adapting to circumstances at least a bit. But the Saeros parallel could suggest Morgoth had the general endgame (Túrin and Nienor marrying each other unknowingly) in mind from the start, and was waiting for the right moment when the family were in geographical proximity and outside the protection of Doriath.

EDIT: On the “painful dramatic ironies” front, I forgot to mention Túrin loving Finduilas ‘as a sister’ because she reminds him of the women of the House of Hador, and then falling in love with his actual sister in part because she connects with his memories of / guilt about Finduilas.