#compare and contrast valar who respect his rights

[alsethwisson]

There is one horrific crime Feanor committed that is rarely, if ever, mentioned by the fandom.

It's the burning of the ships.

Swan Ships are explicitly and repeatedly compared to the Silmarils; they are a pinnacle of a whole nation's creative work, something that cannot be replicated, something that is immensely dear to its creators hearts.

And Feanor? He KNOWS it.

And he sees this work of art only as a means to an end, a vessel to cross the sea - and then be discarded. DESTROYED.

He, himself a creator, he, who denied Silmarils to the Valar on grounds of being unable to destroy his best work.

He destroys a whole nations' best work to spite his brother.

Not even to spite the Teleri; he doesn't even give them this ounce of respect as fellow creators.

That's the lowest point of his character.

It's THE MOST INCREDIBLE THING.

(If you haven't read this tale, here it is: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Fairy_Tales_and_Other_Stories_(Andersen,_Craigie)/The_Most_Incredible_Thing)

Something I find interesting is that Fëanor's deeds specifically are really blown out of proportion... many fanworks portray him as some bloodthirsty monster that killed everything, and everyone who stood against him. But... that's not actually true at all, is it? The only time he killed was at Alqualondë, and even then, it was something that happened out of an escalated conflict. It wasn't something Fëanor had planned out or even thought of beforehand. His other, non-boat-related crimes? Pointing a sword at his brother. That's it. Unless you count being angry for the injustice done to him and his mother, yelling at people, and refusing to kill yourself because someone asked as crimes.

Like I'm sure he wasn't a pleasant person to be around in his final years of life, and his actions did cause great harm. But damn if it isn't blown out of proportion. Yes, the oath was awful, but Fëanor was delirious with grief, and, if we are to believe his children, borderline suicidal. He wasn't thinking about what his words would mean for others, he never meant to hurt anyone but Morgoth. How did that give him the rep of being The Most Evil Elf Ever?

Also, who came up with the idea that Fëanor or his sons killed children during the kinslayings? There is 0 evidence for that. And yes, I know about E&E¹, but none of them did that.

[headcannonballs]

I know the hobbit movies make a big deal about how angsty teen Legolas is and completely screwed his relationship with his dad Thranduil. But whenever I read the Lord of the Rings I cannot help but think: my goodness, but Thranduil must have really spoiled Legolas rotten.

We first meet Legolas at the Council of Elrond. He is dressed simply and for light travel, and does not choose to wear his title as a Prince, instead identifying himself as a messenger from Thranduil, his king. Indeed he often chooses to call Thranduil his king rather than his father, which many have taken as a sign that relations between the two are strained.

However, I propose the direct opposite - that his many mentions of Thranduil as his Elven-Lord demonstrates not only his love for Thranduil, but also his respect and admiration of what a great king his father is for his people.

Consider this: whenever he mentions Thranduil or Mirkwood it is always with warmth and a subtle longing. He doesn't ever speak of his home in anything other than good terms, even if it has been marred and fallen into becoming Mirkwood (as opposed to Greenwood the Great).

And it isn't just to maintain pride in front of outsiders. When you contrast the way Boromir speaks of Gondor and his father the steward Denethor, to the way Legolas speaks of Mirkwood and Thranduil, it becomes clearer. Boromir is proud of his family, country and heritage and boasts of it. He claims Gondor is the main protector of Middle-earth, and that they have been fighting Mordor the hardest. But deep down he is questioning his father's rule, and is uncertain of Gondor's future.

Legolas is almost the opposite. He doesn't ever boast of his country, although Mirkwood, just like Gondor, is right at Mordor's doorstep. Instead he shares with the company personal anecdotes that show (not tell) exactly how good life is there despite the Shadow. He doesn't waver in his believe of his people's strength; indeed only he and Aragorn could face Galadriel without any fear or hesitation.

I think the reason why Legolas always mentions Thranduil as a king or lord is not because he doesn't want to acknowledge Thranduil is his father. It is that Legolas is so in awe of Thranduil and so respectful of him that whenever he is mentioned Legolas' first thought is not 'that's my dad and we're related', but instead is 'that's my king and my hero and he's so awesome'.

He doesn't consciously mention Thranduil as his father because his mind frame is not to introduce the company to Thranduil the way you would introduce your friends to your parents. He doesn't want them to think of him as just a nice uncle who is the father of a friend.

Legolas introduces Thranduil as his king because he wants the company to respect him as such, as the ruler of a great country who has done great deeds. He wants the company to see Thranduil as someone in-charge, as someone who is capable and should be given the proper courtesies accorded to him.

Some may question, in that case why doesn't Legolas call him 'my father the king'? It would highlight both Legolas' relationship to Thranduil as well as Thranduil's kingship.

I think this has to do with the circumstances as well as Legolas' humble personality. It is true that he doesn't ever make a big deal out of being prince, but at the same time this title means nothing much in the fellowship company. There is Aragorn, who would be king of Gondor. Boromir, eldest son of the ruling Steward of Gondor. Gimli, cousin of Balin who is the Lord of Moria. Gandalf, member of the Istari and councilor of many kingdoms. Peregrin, son of the Thain of Shire. Meriadoc, son of the Master of Buckland. Frodo, heir to Bilbo and a celebrity (of sorts) of the Shire.

Virtually everyone in the fellowship had a title (except Sam) and there is really no point in highlighting it among themselves when it doesn't matter. The only time where Legolas being Prince of Mirkwood would matter is when meeting other elves or when meeting allies of Mirkwood (like Dale for example). In which case in the former, Legolas being son of Thranduil is more than enough recognition for Elrond and Celeborn (as both of them were Sindar elves, and thus kin of Thranduil). And for the latter there wasn't any opportunity to do so.

Thus Legolas not mentioning the king is also his father is his way of downplaying his title as Prince, something which signifies his humility as well.

Finally, what makes me certain that Thranduil is a very caring father is Legolas' personality itself. Galadriel mentions that Legolas had always lived in joy, and this is very evident throughout the book.

In the entire journey, Legolas is shown to never despair. The only moment of fear was when he saw the Balrog (a famous elves bane) but otherwise he was also never fearful. This is despite the overwhelming circumstances the company finds themselves in. He always sees the bright side in every situation, frequently makes jokes and funny quips, and is in an overall joyful mood.

From the Hobbit, we learn that this cheerful outlook is shared by the Mirkwood elves, regardless of the growing Shadow. The only person who was affected at all was Thranduil himself, who was always wary of Mordor rising again. But he took careful pains to never affect his people, and they were always in good spirits despite the war that was happening.

I think Legolas was very well loved as a child, and always carefully sheltered. Not from the horrors and realities of war like death and destruction (because we can see he is a very capable warrior). No, he was instead sheltered from the despair and sorrow that would normally accompany death and destruction.

Legolas would see death and elves dying in battle, and Thranduil would tell him of the halls of Mandos and how death is just a path back to the Valar. He would look at the destruction of the woods and the land, and Thranduil would tell him it is like the passage of winter, but spring would come and the land would flourish again.

Legolas would have grown up knowing that even though bad things are happening, good things are still to come, and that's why he always has such hope in him and such joy. Unlike the mortal lives of Men and Dwarves, Elves are immortal and they can afford to wait for the end of the Shadow. There is no hurry, and because Mirkwood is untouched by any of the Rings, they don't need to worry about the power of the Three fading.

Legolas is happy and joyful because he is beloved, and I think that is a consequence of Thranduil's nurturing personality. It just makes much more sense when you compare him to the other characters who had lost both parents (Aragorn and Eomer), or had a stern and demanding father (Boromir and Faramir).

Legolas remains unchanged for the most part at the end of the journey because he was already in such a good place to start with. I think that is quite a comforting thought.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Vice and Virtue in Tolkien’s Works

I’ve been rereading Dante’s Purgatorio (easily my favourite of the three sections, both for having a very satisfying structure and for its themes of repentance and reform), and the structure inspired this post. Each level of purgatory has images, words, or both, associated with the vice being reformed and its corresponding virtue (the examples being drawn both from the Bible and Greco-Roman history and mythology) and it gave me ideas for a discussion of similar themes in Tolkien’s works.

The structure is: 1) Pride/Humility; 2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit; 3) Wrath/Charity; 4) Sloth/Zeal); 5) Avarice/Simplicity; 6) Gluttony/Abstinence; 7) Lust/Romantic Love.

1) Pride/Humility

Saruman: Our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.

Frodo: I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

This is easily the primary emphasis in Tolkien’s works. The fall of all his main villains (Morgoth, Sauron, Fëanor, the Númenoreans, Saruman) and as well as other non-villainous tragic characters (Túrin, Thingol, Turgon, Thorin, Denethor) is characterized by pride - the desire to be the one calling the shots, the desire for greatness and others’ recognition of that greatness, the refusal to listen to the advice or views of others.

It’s there in Melkor’s desire for his theme to be the only one heard in the Music; in Sauron’s desire to rule the world and arrange everything as he thinks best; in Fëanor’s determination to take any advice, correction, or disagreement as a personal attack, his desire for rulership in Middle-earth, and his attitude that the Silmarils are more important than anything anyone else has done or created; the late-stage Númenoreans’ campaign of imperialist conquest. It’s there in Túrin’s, Thingol’s, and Turgon’s rejection of good advice; in Thingol’s attitude towards other peoples, whether it’s Beren or the dwarves; in Denethor’s conviction that Gondor is the only place and people of any account in the war against Sauron.

Humility, in contrast, is mainly seen in the form of hobbits. None of them have any idea what they’re doing when they leave Rivendell (Sam and Pippin don’t even know where Mordor is), and they know they’ve got no idea. They’re not going because they see themselves as specially skilled or qualified, but because it needs to be done. And that’s the very reason Frodo can resist the Ring so long, and Sam can resist it, because they don’t have any grand ideas of themselves.

The ability to say I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll try to do what’s right is pretty crucial to humility; even members of the Fellowship who are far more experienced, skilled and knowledgeable than the hobbits show it. Aragorn says it, in the search for Merry and Pippin when they’re captured by orcs. Pride could easily say I need to go with the Ring-bearer, that’s the most important task or I need to go to Gondor and lead the war against Sauron as their King. But Aragorn lets himself trust in other people doing their parts, and focuses on rescuing his companions - the thing that no one else is a available to do - even as the chase seems increasingly hopeless. It’s also seen in Gandalf, who openly admitted he was scared to go when the Valar first sent him, and wandered around as an old man in a battered cloak and hat, talking with everyone, rather than setting himself up as a Respectable Dignified Authority Figure the way Saruman did.

The Silmarillion has fewer examples of humility than LOTR (perhaps why things turn out so much worse there) but there are a few in the Leithian. Lúthien is another case of saying I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll do it because no one else will when she sets off to rescue Beren. Finrod walks away from his crown and realm to help a friend.

2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit

Denethor: I will not step down to be the dotatd chamberlain of an upstart.

Faramir: My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?

Envy is akin to pride, but I’m characterizing it as being specifically the resentment of being surpassed (or even equalled) by another.

Fëanor is again a major example of this, specifically in his resentment of Fingolfin and of the descendents of Indis more generally. Peoples of Middle-earth notes that he resented the name Nolofinwë (Fingolfin’s Quenya name, roughly means ‘wise-Finwë or ‘learned-Finwë’) due to regarding himself as not only the most skilled of the Noldor at craftwork (which he was), but also the most skilled at lore/scholarship (which he wasn’t), and likewise resented the name Arafinwë (Finarfin’s Quenya name). He’s in a mental place of resenting anything positive that can be said about his brothers as if it inherently detracts from him. And he takes the same attitude towards Men (‘No other race shall oust us!’), treating their very existence as a threat to the Eldar. Losgar is the peak of this: he’s willing to sabotage his own war effort to prevent Fingolfin from participating. This is contasted with Maedhros’ attitude after being rescued by Fingon, when he willingly gives up the crown and, later, moves across Beleriand to the most exposed section of the northern border to avoid conflict. His own status isn’t his priority; peace with his family and the best interests of the war against Morgoth are his priorities.

Denethor is another major example, seeing both Aragorn’s return and Faramir’s respect for Gandalf as personal affronts to himself. (Gandalf points out that the literal job description of a steward is to be in charge until the king returns. When the king comes back, that means you’ve done your job, not that you’re being demoted. Denethor is not interested in hearing this.) He’s also mentioned in the Appendices to have resented the respect and admiration recieved by Thorongil [i.e. Aragorn in disguise] during the days of their youth. In very similar ways, Saruman resented the high regard that some (like Galadriel) had for Gandalf, and saw Gandalf as a rival. Thorongil and Gandalf were not interested in rivalry; they were more interested in what was achieved than in who was achieving it. Faramir is the contrast here - he is interested in the good of Gondor, not his own status, and has no jealousy of Aragorn.

3. Wrath/Charity

Fëanor: See, half-brother! This is sharper than thy tongue. Try but once more to usurp my place and the love of my father, and maybe it will rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.

Gandalf: It was Pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand; Pity, and Mercy, not to strike without need.

I would say that this is the third-most-emphasized of the vices in Tolkien’s works, after pride and avarice. And, of course, another Fëanor example: both his threat on Fingolfin’s life and his actions during the Return of the Noldor, the latter being driven by wrath primarily against Morgoth and secondarily against everyone else in his vicinity (Valar! Teleri! Fingolfin and anyone who supports him!). It’s the spillover that’s the problem, and the self-centredness; hating Morgoth isn’t a problem in and of itself, but Fëanor’s taking the fight against evil and turning it into a personal vendetta, with disastrous consequences.

Túrin is another example, most particularly in three events: causing the death of Saeros, burning the hall of Brodda in Dor-lómin, and killing Brandir. The former two are provoked, the latter isn’t, but all of them are sudden deeds of anger that only serve to make matters worse.

The contrasting virtue is charity, mercy shown to people that you have good reason to be hostile towards. Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros. Lúthien’s sparing of Curufin when he and Celegorm attacked her and Beren. Frodo sparing Gollum and treating him with kindness and compassion.

4. Sloth/Zeal

Guard Hobbit: It won’t do no good talking that way. He’ll get to hear of it. And if you make so much noise, you’ll wake the Chief’s Big Man.

Merry: Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don’t know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they’ll go up in fire.

This is comparatively less of an emphasis in Tolkien’s works than some of the other pairings, but I can think of some examples. The best one is Saruman’s takeover of the Shire and the subsequent liberation. Sloth is the characteristic hobbit vice (not gluttony; I’ll get to that); they tend towards being comfortable and complacent and don’t like being bestirred. Even Frodo dawdled around for half a year after learning about the Ring, mostly because he was reluctant to go. And under first Lotho and then Saruman, everyone (except Tooks) more or less puts up with an abuses because they don’t want the trouble or danger of standing up against them. It’s the return of Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, who have experience fighting evil on a much larger scale (and who can organize things) that spurs them to stand up for themselves and their home.

5. Avarice/Simplicity

Celegorm: For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends.

Gandalf: I wonder what has become of [the mithril-shirt]? Gathering dust still in Michel Delving Mathom-house, I suppose.

Avarice is, I would say, the second-most-emphasized vice in Tolkien’s works, after pride. The central conflicts in both The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings are objects (they’re in the titles!): the Silmarils and the Ring. The Oath is almost the strongest possible expression of avarice, the most extreme statement of this is mine that a person can make; The Ring is an even more extreme expression, as Sauron makes an object that is literally part of himself. And both conflicts are resolved through the renunciation of claim on these objects, in Eärendil’s journey to Valinor (and the Silmaril becoming a star that is seen by everyone and owned by no one) and Frodo and Sam’s mission to destroy the Ring.

The Silmarils themselves are not evil; they are good and hallowed objects, and fights between elves, dwarves, and men are the result of the Oath (the kinslayings) and the connection with the dragon-contaminated and Mîm-cursed treasure of Nargothrond (Thingol and the dwarves of Nogrod). The Ring is evil, and inducing avarice is its most basic power, even among people like Sméagol and Déagol who could never actually wield it; letting it go is incredibly difficult, and Bilbo and Sam are the only people in the history of the Ring ever to do it.

Avarice is also a central theme in The Hobbit, and dragon-treasure is specifically noted as provoking avarice in people who are in any way inclined towards that vice. Smaug is practically a physical manifestation of avarice in his rage over losing one small cup that he has no use for from an immense hoard, and both Thorin and the master of Lake-town fall prey to the dragon-sickness.

I’ve given ‘simplicity’ as the antonym, and I thought of ‘generosity’ as well, but neither of those is quite right. The opposite of avarice is holding lightly to things, and it’s a particular virtue of hobbits. This is seen both in their birthday parties (the tradition of giving away possessions) and the Michel Delving Mathom-house, a museum for old heirlooms that people feel they don’t need to have around. The most beautiful example is Bilbo’s mithril-shirt (worth more than the entire Shire!) spending some time sitting around there.

It’s worth nothing that the vice of avarice in Tolkien’s works isn’t associated with having stuff, just with holding to stuff. Bag End being comfortable isn’t a problem. The Noldor having piles of jewels isn’t a problem provided that they’re sharing them and letting them go, as in the Noontide of Valinor (gemstones scattered on the seashore!) or Finrod giving them away in Middle-earth. The issue comes when the owning becomes what a person values; the signal that Fëanor is becoming too tied to the Silmarils is when he prefers to lock them away so no one else can see them.

6. Gluttony/Abstinence

Gollum: He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!

The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have laid down to die. It did not satisfy desire...and yet this waybread of the Elves had a potency that increased as travellers relied on it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and gave strength to endure...

Gluttony is distinguished from avarice as the desire to consume things, not merely accumulate them. This is an interesting one, because Tolkien has no issue with the consuption of large amounts of food for enjoyment (which hobbits do frequently and enthusiastically!). As with possessions, enjoyment of physical things isn’t seen as problematic. The enjoyment of everyday pleasures is specifically discussed as morally desirable in a way that contrasts with avaricious accumulation (“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”)

However, there is one large (very, very large) example of the concept of gluttony as unlimited consumption and appetite: Ungoliant. Ungoliant represents not the hoarding of things, but their destruction, and is continually described with very physical terms of appetite and devouring. Shelob and the spiders of Mirkwood are lesser versions of the same concept. There are other mosters in the same vein: Sauron’s werewolves and Carcharoth. On of the names for Carcharoth is Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst, specifically invoking the idea of insatiable consumption.

And gluttony can be described more broadly as an form of overconsumption which uses up or destroys things; pollution could be a modern-day example. Looked at in that way, gluttony can be considered the end-stage of all evil in Tolkien, in the same way that pride is its beginning-stage. The ruin of the Anfauglith, the Desolation of the Morannon, the trees of Fangorn used to feed the fires of Isengard or hacked down for no purpose (and even Losgar, if you like) are all its work. Gollum (heavily driven by mundane hunger) grasps this when he fears Sauron regaining the Ring: “He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!” Ungoliant is the final stage of all evil.

In the same way that hobbits enjoying ample meals isn’t treated as a moral flaw, abstinence isn’t particularly notable as a virtue. However, it does come up in forms like Sam noting that lembas provides more endurance as the hobbits rely on it solely in their final journey to Mordor. This indicates that Tolkien regards the ability to go without physical pleasures when necessary as a virtue (also symbolized by Sam’s heartrending decision to give up his cooking gear!) but doesn’t place value on ascetism for its own sake.

If we want to expand on the metaphorical idea of gluttony as overconsumption/destruction, then we can also see healing/restoration as its opposing virtue, in forms like the box of soil that Galadriel gives Sam, which he uses to restore the trees of the Shire.

7. Lust/Romantic Love

Celegorm became enamoured of [Lúthien]...they purposed to let the King perish, and to keep Lúthien, and force Thingol to give her hand to Celegorm.

Beren: Though all to ruin fell the world, and were dissolved and backward hurled, unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Lúthien for a time should be.

Lust is often regarded simply as a term for physical attraction, and its condemnation as a type of prudishness, but I’m going to present a different take, one that draws on its connection with the two preceding vices (the three are consistently grouped together by Dante). Lust is when the two previous desires, of ownership and consumption/use, are applied not to objects but to a person.

It’s an extremely rare vice among elves, with only a few examples in Elvish history: Celegorm, Eöl, Maeglin. In all cases, there is sexual desire combined with the desire for control, turning to violence when that control is thwarted: Celegorm’s imprisonment of Lúthien in the attempt to force her to marry him, and the later assault on her and Beren; Eöl’s restrictions on Aredhel and murder of her when she leaves him; Maeglin’s attempt to kidnap Idril during the Fall of Gondolin.

In contrast, the examples of romantic love, which are primarily the elf-human couples and especially Beren and Lúthien, combine desire with value for the freedom and identity of the beloved, and with self-sacrifice (or willingness to take on risks) for their sake. Beren’s song before setting out for Angband is a celebration of Lúthien’s existence, irrespective of what may happen to him. Lúthien counters with the expression that she does not want to exist apart from him, and purpose of lovers is to act together and to guard and support each other. Elwing runs through the waves to Eärendil on the shores of Valinor because she would rather face the same risks he does than be safe apart from him. Eärendil accepts immortality for love of Elwing. Arwen accepts death for love of Aragorn.

[cataclysmofstars]

Tagged by @cerulean-shark​ -- thanks!

01. se//ga or nin//tendo? Nintendo fight me

02. do you like cold weather? Yup, but not too cold. My optimal temperature is somewhere between 40-55 degrees

03. if your hair is long enough, would you wear it in pigtails? They’re not my thing

04. would you rather wear a cocktail dress or a suit or a combination of both? Ack, hard choices. But I do have a greater weakness for suits (*cough* lawyer *cough*) and they’re much more versatile, so i’ll go with them

05. if you could get implants to enhance your abilities (hence becoming a cyborg), would you? Maybe? Never thought about it

06. what are your favorite things about yourself? I'm proud of my writing skills

07. combat boots worn for fashion, yay or nay? I don’t own a pair, but if I did I’d probably be wearing them everywhere

08. do you paint your nails? On occasion

09. do you like your handwriting? It’s legible, which I feel like is the most important criterion (looking at you professors)

10. would you rather explore space or the bottom of the ocean? space nerd over here who is probably a little too interested in black holes

11. would you date your fave fictional character? *looks at Mairon* uhhh, i think not. Don’t really feel like dying today.

My questions for you guys:

01. Do you wear makeup? it depends on my mood

02. Top three favorite authors? Jolkien Rolkien(x2) Tolkien (followed by a list of tolkien fanfic writers; i couldn’t pick just three)

03. Three random facts about yourself?

1. I’ve been trying to teach myself astrophysics (it’s...going.)

2. Most of the songs on my iPod relate to a specific character(s)

3. Coffee has never once helped me stay awake

04. What hairstyle do you prefer to wear? I wear my hair down

05. If you could live anywhere, where would you pick? Somewhere where I get to experience all four seasons

06. Are you a good cook? I mean, I can cook enough things to not starve but...

07. Who is your favorite fictional character, and why? M A I R O N; he is a literal dumpster fire and overall Terrible Person, but he digs wolves, jewelry, and does things with No Chill and Maximum Drama and I respect that. At the very least, it’s entertaining.

In all seriousness, though, I find him a complex and fascinating character. From a writing perspective, there is so much material to work with, from the Ainulindale all the way to his defeat in the third age and beyond. There is a vast array of interpretations from which one can draw when analyzing the changes to his character, his relationships, his motivations, his flaws, the contrasts inherent in his nature (a maia, for example, meant to serve the valar, yet also desiring dominion over ME), his mindset throughout the Ages, and the possibility of redemption (the topic which alone opens the door for discussion as to how that could happen and whether he even is deserving of such an arc, because were there ever moments of compassion? of true regret? of mercy? how did a maia once good fall into darkness, and do those characters trait render him beyond salvation?).

I also love the opportunity he presents to examine the differences between an Ainu and the Children (just how ‘alien’ are the ainur compared to Elves and Men and other creatures, and how does this affect his interactions with them?). I could go on, but it is essentially this opportunity to explore a character who is morally bankrupt/ambiguous and the choices he makes that draw me to him. It isn’t a ‘I want to be best friends with this jerk’ kind of favoritism.

08. Do you have any pets? I used to have a cat *cries*

09. Your favorite so-bad-it’s-good TV show or movie? Can’t think of anything right now

10. What’s the best location for a date? *shrugs*

11. Do you make new year’s resolutions or not? If so, what will they be for 2018? I usually don’t on account that I’m terribly at sticking to them and have kind of given up

I’ll tag: @filmamir, @morgause1, @barad-doom, @animecrazy13ify, @feanope, @queen-haleth, and @fiinwe

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Character Thoughts - Tuor and Túrin

There are numerous parallels and contrasts between Tuor and Túrin. They’re cousins, similar in age (Tuor is about seven years younger). They both lose their fathers in the Nirnaeth. They’re both raised by Elves - Túrin in Doriath and Tuor among the grey-elves of Hithlum. They both spend time as outlaws in the wilderness. They each become associated with one of the two remaining hidden kingdoms of the Noldor - Túrin with Nargothrond, Tuor with Gondolin - becoming friends with elves (Gwindor and Voronwë, respectively) who take them to those kingdoms, winnning the respect of the kingdom’s king and the love of its princess, and being caught up in its fall.

And they have completely opposite personalities. Túrin is intensely determined and inclined to meet obstacles by crashing right through them, with numeous destructive consequences to allies, enemies, and himself. Tuor is (appropriately) like water; he flows around obstacles rather than crashing through them.

Compare their experiences in Hithlum. Túrin shows up after the fall of Nargothrond and directly confronts, antagonizes and kills an Easterling leader; incites a minor rebellion; and causes the death of two notable family friends, Sador and Aerin, as well as, in the longer term, likely many of the other Hadorians present in Brodda’s hall that night. Tuor is taken as a thrall in his teens, and kept in slavery for years; if Túrin has reason to hate the Easterlings, Tuor has far more. But Tuor does not fight immediately; even when is directly targeted and persected, Unfinished Tales states that “he endured all pains and taunts with watchful patience” until the Easterlings get tired of specifically targeting him. (Compare Túrin’s reaction to much lesser taunting in Doriath.) He even befriends his captors’ dogs.

After three years, at age nineteen, Tuor sees an opportunity and escapes. Tuor lives four years as an outlaw, and while he fights the Easterlings when he needs to in order to remain free, his goal is to find the Gate of the Noldor and escape from Hithlum; he knows that trying to overthrow the Easterlings single-handedly has no chance and will only make things worse for everyone. (Túrin, likewise, leaves Doriath at age 20, and lives as an outlaw, but while Tuor is running away from his enemies, Túrin is running away from his friends.)

When Tuor leaves Hithlum, we see further differences between him and Túrin. Túrin is intensely, stubbornly, self-reliant; it is a challenge for Beleg to prevail upon him to accept even help freely offered. And Túrin has no regard for or trust in the Valar, and is hostile to Ulmo’s messengers, Gelmir and Arminas, when they come to Nargothrond. Tuor is quite the opposite, more willing to trust and recieve guidance. When he cannot find a way out if Hithlum, he picks up his harp and “sings an elven-song of the North for the uplifting of hearts”. Turning to music when you’re at your wits’ end is a deeply Elvish (and, given the origins of Eä, a deeply religious) thing to do: note Fingon at Thangorodrim. And as Manwë responded to Fingon, Ulmo responds to Tuor’s song and sends a stream that leads him to the Gate of the Noldor, the secret exit from Hithlum - though Tuor does not recognize the way until it is pointed out to him by Gelmir and Arminas, the same messengers Túrin will later reject.

Not all the differences in Tuor and Túrin’s fates are the result of their personalities. Both of them attract the attention of a Vala: Tuor of Ulmo, who guides and guards and commissions him, and Túrin of Morgoth, who focuses all his power on destroying Túrin’s life.

And Tuor’s main flaw, again in direct contrast to Túrin, is his lack of drive; after leaving Hithlum, he stays in Nevrast doing nothing for months, just to enjoy the scenery, until Ulmo sends signs warning him to get a move on; and later, when he speaks to the Vala, Ulmo specifically reproves him for this. Túrin may lack many things, but initiative isn’t one of them. (This does, however, fit very well with the themes we see throughout Tolkien’s legendarium, where people who seem a little directionless and prone to delay, but show humility, patience and faith - such as Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin in LOTR, or even Gandalf who is really muddling his way through things - succeed, while those with far more clear and decisive plans who place confidence only in their own abilities, like Denethor or Saruman, fail.)

There are additional parallels between Túrin and Tuor during their time in Nargothrond and Gondolin respectively - Túrin urging Orodreth to ignore Ulmo’s counsel, while Tuor acts as Ulmo’s messenger. The broad contrast is of Túrin leading Nargothrond to disaster while Tuor saves a remnant of Gondolin.

But what if that narrative can be flipped at the end? Tuor’s strength and weakness is his flexibility and adaptability; Túrin’s strength and weakness is his immovable determination. Yes, Tuor comes to Gondolin as the messenger of Ulmo. And his message and warning is refused, even while he is honoured for bringing it. And then? He seems to accept the situation, settling into Gondolin for fourteen years. Now, there are a lot of prophetic narratives in the Bible, and prophets do some weird things to force the rulers and public to pay attention to their message.[1] Settling down and just accepting that you and the king happen to have a difference of opinion on this particular subject? Emphatically not in the job description. Tuor accomplishes what will enable Ulmo’s long-term plan - the birth of Eärendil - but he fails at the task Ulmo set him.

And Túrin, who spent all his life failing, whose child contrasts with Tuor’s in the absolute worst way - the saviour of Middle-earth contrasted with the unborn product of incest - Túrin does succeed in the end. He kills Glaurung; the first person in history to slay a dragon, and the deed which is recorded on Túrin’s tombstone. He continued in his determination through all the disasters that beset him, and in the end through his determination he achieved what no one else could.

[1] Ezekiel Chapter 4, for example.