#great and powerful smaug

[horizon-verizon]

On this here day, GRRM wrote an entry clarifying several things about the dragon lore in his novels, and it vindicates so many Dany stans/Daenerys as the Azor Ahai:

Saying dragon "mysteries", in-world, will be revealed in the last two books AND Septon Barth got a lot right. I'm taking that to mean that dragons change sex (Viserion, here you come, baby!), like two particular Twitter mutes I have (danylanzhou and Branwynwitch). It also seems like he's confirming that dragons and the first 40 Valyrian families (which include the Targs, then and now) mixed dragon blood with their own in some long past ancient event AND that only these families, therefore, can bond with dragons to rides them safely or befriend them.

Which means Nettles is definitely of Valyrian/Targ-descent, which really should have been obvious. One of my mutuals also asserted that this makes the idea of Nettles-Sheepstealer/Rhaena-Morning being interchangeable for their supposed HotD merging GRRM-disapproved bc he makes a point to say that dragons don't tend to move far from their lairs that are usually very high up in mountains and volcanos. Sheepstealer can't be going to the Vale while having a lair in Dragonstone:

As for the thought of Sunfyre flying miles to get to Dragonstone...this is where he/they were born and where the real magic that sustains dragons is coalesced from hundred of years. It makes sense for him/them to fly to this castle even if Aegon weren't there after he had been bodied by Meleys/Meleys & Vhagar, looking for recovery. This is where the Targs get most of their eggs/dragons and it is near where most dragons in Westeros make their lairs.

Note that he says, in the very last paragraph, how:

Fantasy needs to be grounded.  It is not simply a license to do anything you like. Smaug and Toothless may both be dragons, but they should never be confused. Ignore canon, and the world you’ve created comes apart like tissue paper.

It appears he is VERY not happy about something to do with dragons in the show's second season, how they bond in the show, how a certain dragon is "explained" to have traveled a too-long distance for a certain pale-locked young girl who has been trying to hatch her own dragon for years...I see you GRRM, fighting for Nettles AND Rhaena I see.

Oh, and just bc he said he liked epi 2, doesn't mean that he cannot critique anything about HotD ever again...he is the writer and creator of this universe that they are capitalizing on. As long as a writer of any genre stays logically consistent and relatively undiscriminatory in their original writing, they definitely can tell any of us readers what is real and not real or possible in their own creations! That this is even up for debate is a travesty to logic.

Mind you, this is the same man who said the show and the book are two separate canons AND that adaptations "nowadays" tend to fail bc the adapters think they can make the story "better" and ignore critical lore details. And in his latest commentary on HotD's S2 first two episodes, he says, and I quote:

“Rhaenyra the Cruel” has been getting great reviews, for the most part.   A lot of the fans are proclaiming it the best episode of HotD, and some are even ranking it higher than the best episodes of GAME OF THRONES.   I can hardly be objective about these things, but I would certainly say it deserves to be in contention.   The only part of the show that is drawing criticism is the conclusion of the Blood and Cheese storyline.   Which ending was powerful, I thought… a gut punch, especially for viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD.   For those who had read the book, however… Well, there’s  a lot of be said about that, but this is not the place for me to say it.   The issues are too complicated.   Somewhere down the line, I will do a separate post about all the issues raised by Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing.  There’s a lot to say.

Note that the latest post was about epi4 and this one I just linked is only abt epi 1 &2....so where are his thoughts for the hated/comedic epi3?! (we see each other, George). (BTW, I gave my thoughts on his thoughts about 1 & 2, HERE.)

I'll say it once again: though GRRM praised the portrayal of grief, defended Cheese being lost, and loved the dog (the last I don't fault anyone for, I also loved them) in the Blood & Cheese episode, he also expressly talks AROUND how Blood & Cheese and Helaena actually interacted and comments on the Maelor-lessness (therefore the lack of Sophie's Choice) that many people--inclu myself--have been saying was a huge problem.

Now we have two different sources that seem to support the ideas of:

GRRM both not being as "involved" with the actual writing of this show for a bit AND not approving of a lot of critical changes

HotD's writers cannot create anything truly "canon" or "real/true" for this universe, it only can make any sort of "sense" if it also retrieves information from the original tale, which is not really just F&B but THE ENTIRE SET OF AVAILABLE BOOKS!

[book--brackets]

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien (1937)

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (2005-2009)

Percy Jackson is a good kid, but he can't seem to focus on his schoolwork or control his temper. And lately, being away at boarding school is only getting worse - Percy could have sworn his pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster and tried to kill him. When Percy's mom finds out, she knows it's time that he knew the truth about where he came from, and that he go to the one place he'll be safe. 

She sends Percy to Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigods (on Long Island), where he learns that the father he never knew is Poseidon, God of the Sea. Soon a mystery unfolds and together with his friends—one a satyr and the other the demigod daughter of Athena - Percy sets out on a quest across the United States to reach the gates of the Underworld (located in a recording studio in Hollywood) and prevent a catastrophic war between the gods.

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (1954-1955)

In a sleepy village in the Shire, a young hobbit is entrusted with an immense task. He must make a perilous journey across Middle-earth to the Cracks of Doom, there to destroy the Ruling Ring of Power - the only thing that prevents the Dark Lord's evil dominion.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis (1950-1956)

Four adventurous siblings—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie— step through a wardrobe door and into the land of Narnia, a land frozen in eternal winter and enslaved by the power of the White Witch. But when almost all hope is lost, the return of the Great Lion, Aslan, signals a great change . . . and a great sacrifice.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1943)

The Little Prince is a classic tale of equal appeal to children and adults. On one level it is the story of an airman's discovery, in the desert, of a small boy from another planet - the Little Prince of the title - and his stories of intergalactic travel, while on the other hand it is a thought-provoking allegory of the human condition.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini (2002-2011, 2023)

When fifteen-year-old Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself. 

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and, gifted with only an ancient sword, a loyal dragon, and sage advice from an old storyteller, Eragon is soon swept into a dangerous tapestry of magic, glory, and power. Now his choices could save--or destroy--the Empire.

Time Quintet by Madeleine L'Engle (1962-1989)

It was a dark and stormy night; Meg Murry, her small brother Charles Wallace, and her mother had come down to the kitchen for a midnight snack when they were upset by the arrival of a most disturbing stranger. 

Wild nights are my glory, the unearthly stranger told them. I just got caught in a downdraft and blown off course. Let me sit down for a moment, and then I'll be on my way. Speaking of ways, by the way, there is such a thing as a tesseract. 

Folk of the Air by Holly Black (2018-2020)

Of course I want to be like them. They're beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. 

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe. 

Jude was seven years old when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. 

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him--and face the consequences. 

In doing so, she becomes embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, discovering her own capacity for bloodshed. But as civil war threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab (2020)

France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman named Adeline meets a dangerous stranger and makes a terrible mistake. 

As she realizes the limitations of her Faustian bargain-being able to live forever, without being able to be remembered by anyone she sees- Addie chooses to flee her small village, as everything she once held dear is torn away. 

But there are still dreams to be had, and a life to live, and she is determined to find excitement and satisfaction in the wide, beckoning world-even if she will be doomed to be alone forever. 

Or not quite alone-as every year, on her birth-day, the alluring Luc comes to visit, checking to see if she is ready to give up her soul. Their darkly thrilling game stretches through the ages, seeing Addie witness history and fight to regain herself as she crosses oceans and tries on various lives. 

It will be three hundred years before she stumbles into a hidden bookstore and discovers someone who can remember her name-and suddenly, everything changes again. 

Circe by Madeline Miller (2018)

 the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child—not obviously powerful like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power—the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts, and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur; Daedalus and his doomed son, Icarus; the murderous Medea; and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from or the mortals she has come to love.

[itsabouttimex2]

May I ask

Which characters will include in the primal moon scenario ?

Essentially, whichever characters I can think of scenarios for- writing Monkiefam was pretty easy, because monkeys have complex hierarchies to draw from. I spent a while observing different species at a local zoo (they’re mean. God, they’re so mean.) and decided to write a fic based on the behaviors I saw. (I’ll post that video at the bottom!)

Despite their status as the lowest ranked member of the ‘troop’, Wukong sees Y/N as his biological child. He won’t listen to any arguments about the difference in age or species, no matter what evidence is presented to refute him. Macaque is seen as his ‘little brother’, their rivalry temporarily forgotten. (Though only on Wukong’s end.)

The Great Sage is just lucid enough to recognize MK as his cherished student, and tries to give him advice… but his mind is a little too muddled by viridescence to offer anything sound. He also accidentally enables the worst of Primal!MK’s traits by complimenting and comforting him whenever things go wrong.

He’s thankfully rather laidback about the whole thing, only getting violent when he feels that his ‘family’ or status are threatened.

Macaque returns to his long-forgotten docile demeanor, a remnant of his days as a member of the Sworn Brotherhood- though he tries to fight the shift. It butchers the simian’s pride to resume a position of submissiveness, especially now that it’s to two people- one of whom may well be a teenager. Also, he’s sincerely desperate for comfort and companionship, so he spends most of the week fighting himself to not participate in any bonding activities.

He’ll make a ‘rank-scaling’ attempt or two, only to get beaten down and potentially pushed behind even Y/N in terms of status if he does it enough.

Sun Wukong->MK->Macaque->Y/N is the troop ranking, and it’s pretty rigid.

MK is, uh… in a pretty rough state. He’s never had any preparation for the Primal Moon, thinking himself a regular human for almost the entire time that he’s been alive.

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Honestly, it’s Tang that gives me the hardest time! assuming we can call upon his cicada ancestry, he’s- got absolutely nothing. Female cicadas use their ovipositors to slice into thin branches many times, leaving clutches of eggs as they go- that’s about as far as parental instincts go for them, given that they and the males die soon after breeding. (The males, in fact, die pretty much directly after.) I guess I’d place him with Princess Iron Fan and Ne Zha as the ‘normal’ guys.

Pigsy is, as you know- a male pig. Who are notorious piglet-killers. Eating piglets, stepping on piglets, rolling over and crushing piglets- intentionally killing entire piglet litters to force females back into estrus- it gets pretty brutal. So I still haven’t figured out what I want to do with him for this story- though I imagine he’ll be aggressive/hair-trigger, with Tang being the one thing that holds him back.

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Mei was pretty easy to write, but I did a lot of research on Chinese dragons in order to keep my representation of her respectful. Dragons in the west are usually reduced to bloodthirsty beasts of pride and rage- creatures to be slain and overcome as monstrous final obstacles. This portrayal even dates back to Beowulf, with the dragon portrayed then going on to characterize many dragons that came after it. (For example, Smaug was based partly on Beowulf’s dragon, and partly on Fafnir- so if any others dragons are based on Smaug, then they too call back upon the original.

In Chinese culture, dragons are considered wise and powerful beings. They’re worshipped as symbols of prosperity and good luck, and considered very auspicious beings.

So, Mei seems more composed in this AU- but it’s all an act. Given the stigma that non-humans have on account of the Primal Moon, she spends a lot of time pretending to be something that she’s not so that no one ends up being afraid. Mei’s obsession with with Y/N primarily stems from their complete acceptance of who she is, inside and out. Instead of having to pretend to be dignified and wise and rational, she gets to be the real Mei. She can goofy and energetic with you, not afraid to roughhouse or throw hands.

———————————————————————-

For Bullfam, I think Princess Iron Fan very much would be the ‘only sane man’- if two things weren’t occurring:

1. Her husband wasn’t trying to talk her into having a second child and worshipping her every step, his tongue spinning crude admirations of her beauty and battle prowess.

2. Her son wasn’t clinging to her waist and arms, begging for validation and attention, futilely trying to drag her into his workshop to compliment his blueprints and machines.

So she has her boy (after some headpats and a little bit of buttering up) run off to the surface and snatch a suitably young human who’s been left unattended, imposing them as a temporary ‘second child’ and ‘younger sibling’… before getting attached. Even though they were supposed to be disposable, she works them into a more permanent fixture of her family.

Given that Red Son is the one who picks you out, he feels a special bond with you. Instead of being more aggressive or even prouder- Red gets clingy. His desire for love and respect comes to the forefront, leading him to latch onto Y/N as tightly as possible. Hugs, headpats, back rubs, hair combing- he wants affection in as many forms as possible. I like to think he temporarily grows horns during the Primal Moon, and that he really likes having them rubbed and polished.

And as for Demon Bull King… this man is already aggressive as hell and pretty damn tempestuous, seeing red at the drop of a hat. So, with very little inhibition as is, he’s the sort of demon hit hardest. Bull King’s mental faculties degrade by a touch or two, rendering him very animalistic. He’s the opposite of Mei here- she puts herself through a ton of suppression and training and it all pays off spectacularly. He actively leans into the instincts and new power the viridescence brings, reveling in a more bestial state.

So, while Y/N openly and freely gives Mei love and affection, they instead cower and hide from Demon Bull King.

He wants more kids. Wants to spend more time with his wife. Wants to fight and break and feast. And when Y/N is abducted brought home, his aggression outright doubles. This is kinda good, though- now he’s so protective that he’s pacing the fortress in hourly patrols, wearing himself out as he digs deep grooves into the earth, carving his sigil into the stones around him many times over, marking the territory as inextricably his.

And all he wants upon returning home is a nap- with his entire family piled onto the bed, of course.

———————————————————————

Also, if anyone has recommendations for how characters should act, I’d be happy to hear them!

[eye-of-mordor]

All great stories include a villain that is very central to the story. Without Sauron, there's just no story in Tolkien's universe. He was present at the infancy of Tolkien's work, in his first book The Hobbit as the mysterious Necromancer that wasn't revealed until later in Unfinished Tales. Even though Smaug was not aligned with Sauron, he was a descendant of the dragons created by Morgoth, clearly indicating that Smaug's attack on the Lonely Mountain was an indirect cause by the ancient evil. Even Morgoth pales in comparison when it comes to how most of the story revolves around Sauron's rise to power and his grip over much of Middle-Earth. Much of the ancient days when Morgoth terrorized the world is shrouded in mystery and lore, but with Sauron, we have a clear and ongoing story. And when Tolkien finally finished all his tales and put Sauron to rest, that's when the stories ended.

As the title aptly puts it, 'The Lord of the Rings.'

[ai-katsuu]

i await the day someone draws hera, bilbo, and frodo together as the protagonists <3

some criticism that i don't quite agree with is that Helm should've been the protagonist. i disagree. i believe that it is because he is SO amazing and badass that it was the right decision to put him in the same role as thorin and aragorn, the legends in their respective stories. if helm was the protagonist, i doubt there would be much love and warmth that the hobbit and lotr gave. let me explain! the thing with the hobbit and lotr is that frodo and bilbo were just like hera in the sense that they supported the legend of their story in their own ways SIDE BY SIDE, bilbo with smaug/arkenstone, frodo making the trek to destroy the ring, and finally hera leading her people, saving her father, and strategizing the call for aid in the final battle to fight for her people

what i love about hera being the protagonist that i relate with bilbo and frodo is that the heroes of stories are usually a strong heroic man, but tolkein wanted to prove that it is the deeds of ordinary people, in this case: two hobbits, and a daughter; those who are kind and courageous, who can be heroes as well <3

it reminds me of a scene in an unexpected journey where galadriel asks why gandalf chose bilbo baggins:

“Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps because I am afraid, and he gives me courage." 

[mithrilhearts]

Maeve's 4k Follower Event

Battle of the Plot Bunnies

2024 has been a great year of finishing up fics for me, so it's time to unveil some new ones! I'm so excited to be able to do this, and have you guys help me essentially decide which fic gets tossed into the actual WIP pile next! Which is to say, THANK YOU for your continued support!

There are eight plot bunnies I've plucked from my Ideas list that I'm interested in developing further. Some of them have drabbles already, some have a little outlining attached, and some have barely even a working title.

Each fic will have a small summary and some bullets of information attached to it so you get an idea of what the plot/concept is!

✨ Feel free to ask me about any of those fic ideas for more information if you like! I will provide what I can!

First Round

Battle of the "Modern" ideas

Battle of the "Erebor Never Fell" ideas

Battle of the "Based on another story" ideas

Battle of the "Maeve's Choice" ideas

Semifinals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Dragons" Themes

Battle of the "Soulmate vs Time Travel" Tropes

Finals

Battle of the "Cottagecore vs Time Travel" Ideas

‼️Fic Summaries/Information below!‼️ All information below is subject to change as the fics develop

Modern AUs

Courtesy Call - Rated Explicit

While trying to make a most courteous call to pull his RSVP from his cousin's birthday party versus not showing at all, a misdial directs him to a particularly spicy line that's all about receiving a good time with oneself. The man on the other end is both baffled and challenged by a sudden new caller to his private line, but takes the challenge with everything his voice can provide. - Outdated Ficlet

Sweeter Than Honey - Rated Teen+

Bilbo Baggins runs a successful honey farm on the west side of the Brandywine River. His peaceful days of honey handicraft grow tense as a new logging company, owned by one Thror Oakes, draws closer to his land. It’s how he meets Thorin, a lumberjack living under the thumb of his grandfather, the owner. They should have been adversaries - the two are on opposite sides of nature, but as it is so often said: opposites attract. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Based On Another Story

No Place Like Home - Rated Teen+

Smaug the Terrible was destined to be slain by a hero in king's armor. To prevent such a fate to pass, Smaug, an enchanter of great power, invaded the kingdoms of Erebor, Dale, and the Greenwood, stripping its citizens of their memories, and taking the throne. Banishing the three kings in an attempt to secure his safety, Smaug took the best part of each king, making them more vulnerable than ever. No one was smart enough, nor brave enough, or had enough heart to stand in his way. Until a most unlikely creature tumbles in. - Influenced by Alice in Wonderland & The Wizard of Oz - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Forged in Dragonfire - Rated Teen+

Durin the Deathless is a legend to every dwarf that knows the tale. A king, a dragonslayer, and one who possessed great power to do so. The blood of the dragonslayer was to pass from firstborn to firstborn, but as the war calmed, such rumors fell to myth, and those myths became lost with time, even as Smaug sought retaliation some generations later. A retaliation that was deadly, just as it was successful. Erebor had finally fallen. After many years of hardship, a wizard shows himself in Ered Luin, seeking the only dwarf who might be able to rekindle a little dragonfire in his blood to take down one of the world's deadliest creatures. One who is hellbent on claiming every kingdom in Middle Earth beneath his claws. - Influenced by Skyrim - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Erebor Never Fell

Heartstones - Rated Teen+

It’s believed that dwarves are blessed in one of two ways: by their heartstone, or their heartcraft, both a calling of the soul. When Thorin is convinced he has neither, a quest for his happiness takes him far beyond the Misty Mountains to the West. It’s in the West that Frerin is convinced they’ll find Thorin’s calling. Be that a happiness of the heart or the craft. - Outdated Ficlet - Basic Information/Ideas via ask game

Thief of Hearts - Rated Mature

Bilbo retired from his life of gentle burglary years ago to care for his ailing mother. With Belladonna's illness getting worse, he seeks out the aid of an enchanter, who is said to give people anything they want in exchange for a little task. Bilbo's task is to burgle one little stone from one lonely mountain under the nose of its king. Lucky for him, Erebor is preparing to host a grand party in hopes of finding a spouse for the oldest prince. It's the perfect distraction, and no one will see him coming.

Maeve's Choice

Twice In A Lifetime - Rated Mature

Just days before the siege on the Dimrill Gate, Thorin voices his guilt about his inability to keep his people safe when Smaug took the mountain. In the middle of an angry prayer to Mahal himself, the ringing of an anvil is the last thing Thorin remembers before waking up within the rolling green hills of the Shire. It’s there he’s greeted by a set of hazels he’d never forget. Not in this lifetime. - Outdated Ficlet

Wretched & Divine - Rated Explicit

After the battle, Bilbo continued to keep the Arkenstone close to his chest to protect those around him. He suspects that there’s more to this ‘Dragon Sickness’ than just the gold, and must figure out how he can save Thorin from his madness. All of this while trying to deal with the dwarf’s fascination with him with an intensity that rivals the obsession of finding the Arkenstone. Or: What if Bilbo had never given away the Arkenstone to Bard and Thranduil, and Thorin never kicked the gold sickness. - Outdated Ficlet

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 4 - Letters, letters, letters

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

forth chapter synopsis: Letters are vessels capable of conveying so much. From the concern with survival, to the regret of having left. Letters speak of the most varied emotions, contain the most intrinsic truths, and are always written with someone in mind. It's a problem when that letter is read by the wrong person. But what can happens when it's read by right one? [3K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug. trauma.

glossary: Lossëistar: Ice Mage┆Maenwë: Clever girl┆Dôl gîn lost: Empty head┆Pedig edhellen?: Do you speak Elvish?┆Na lû e-govaned vîn: Until the time of our meeting

It was not his intention. Truly.

Saruman wandered through the halls of Rivendell, the last homely house east of the sea, with a simple purpose in mind: to find Gandalf. Within two weeks, it was about time Saruman travelled back to Isengard. It was time to say goodbye. And to advice a friend.

Gandalf was always found of travelling, but for Saruman’s sake he must stay there.

Saruman knows about the power he wields over others. His reputation works as a shield from doubts and apprehensions. Saruman the White. If he says the sky is green people will explore all options before cogitating he might be lying. 

His reputation precedes him, and that is why Saruman knows that Gandalf will hear him. Because that is what Gandalf always does.

At Gandalf’s chamber, Saruman waited. And waited.

Radagast is the protector of Nature, but Saruman can recognize the singing of doves just as well. And when he found the pearly feathered bird pecking at the closed window, it took Saruman a glance to see the letter attached to it.

No one could accuse that little dove of not doing her best. Even Saruman could sense its tiredness. While untying the paper from its back, Saruman caressed their delicate wings. It was not sealed. How could he not read a letter that was not even sealed?

Reading the too familiar calligraphy, those words answered his prayers. A warg bit you. Saruman ignored completely what Aerin wrote about the Elvenking or the dam stumbling. A warg bit you. And you were unconscious. Unresponsive. 

A placid smile took over Saruman’s frigid face.

A miracle. You finally will die. And as soon as it happens, as soon as Gandalf discovers that it happened, their problems will end. No more lies for them to worry about. Radagast will stop searching for new ways to cure you. Their past mistakes will not matter anymore. Everything will be normal again.

And Saruman will have great news to report to Sauron.

He knew better than to count with a possible victory. You will die, but if Gandalf discovers what happened he may find a way to save you. Sentimentalist as always, Radagast would come back to meddle in the problems. And that simply cannot be.

It was not his intention to intercept the letter, but it was to burn it to ashes. Did Saruman’s intentions ever mattered before?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In haste to avail the end the sunset, you closed the stable doors and locked them with chains. They were heavy, but not that much. You entered the inn through the back doors and went up to your room, grabbed the basked by your bed and hurried to your hideout.

Without giving anyone the time to question what you are doing, you made your way to the forest. Perhaps it is insensitive of you, but you do not want to be disturbed.

You followed a familiar path to the clearing, a part of the forest where the trees thin. It was like the vegetation was mowed down by a divine force. As if someone from above decided to gift you the perfect hiding place.

It was the perfect place to read, alone with old myths and new words. The perfect place to forget about your misery and enjoy something for a while.

But when you sat amongs the roots of an orange tree and grabbed your book, your heart collapsed. The cover tore. Not much, only on the edge, but that made you realize it will last forever. One day it will tore, tarnish, dampen. One day the ink will fade, the words will blurry, the drawings will become thin.

And you will be left alone. Again.

“Dôl gîn lost,” you murmured to yourself. Empty head. “Why cannot you just learn?”

You should have know better. You should have know he would not stay. Thranduil is a king. He lived more than you could ever understand, saw places in this world that you cannot even imagine, know people way more interesting then a girl without memories.

Of course he would go home. Would forget to say goobye. Would not care enough to say goobye.

Why cannot you just hate him? It would be so much easier if you did. If you just despised him. At least you would be able to feel something completely. But what can you do with those complicated feelings? With all the happiness you felt with him, with that rage from being alone again, with that grief? Because it is grief. What hurts more is not that he left, you understand that. You really do. What hurts more is that he will never come back.

You finally had a friend. Not someone you had any sort of debt to pay, that saw you when you could not understand the most basic of things. One that simply appeared on a random night, and that now is gone. What should you do with those feelings? Where do you put them?

“Lossëistar?” It startled you, but you recognized the voice. “So I am not the only one that knows this place.”

He wore his golden armor, his limp wrist resting against the hilt of his sword. People say he is a good warrior, you never saw him fighting. The only thing you saw was his wit. You admire people that know what to say.

“Gildor,” you waved to him. Your smile was wider than usual, to disguise your watercolor eyes. “I thought you went back.”

“Not yet,” said Gildor. “I thought you would never walk into a forest again. Not after everything that happened.”

“If you get hurt on your house, would you never comeback to it?” You arched your eyebrows. “It was not a forest that bit me, it was a warg.”

Gildor approached, walking towards you. With a warm smile, he nodded in agreement. “You are right. It is still a brave choice, if you permit me.” 

You never noticed it before, but there is something yellow about him. Something warm. It is nice to have him around. Someone that for a second can make you forget about the all those contradictory feelings.

“I do,” your tone was arrogant, but not your face. Gildor laughed. “And may I ask why you are here? If you permit me.”

Gildor opened his mouth to answer you, but his eyes fell to the book between your hands. “Do you speak elvish?”

“Pedig edhellen?” you murmured to yourself. Do you speak elvish? The words just echoed in your mind. “I am learning.”

“Alone?”

“Now, yes. Alone,” you licked your lips. “The Elvenking taught me a little bit.”

Gildor became stiff, almost vigilant. “He is so noble,” he told you. “It may seen naive, but I always thought that those great masters hated each other.”

“Do you mean Elrond hates Thranduil?”

“Mirkwood is know as a dark, tenebrous place. And Rivendell is… Look around. It is a paradise. I was naive to imagine that they would envy and hate one another. The Elvenking would not protect this realm if they did.”

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Rivendell is under attack. Spider nests, orcs regrouping, even wargs,” Gildor looked away from you. “Before you woke up, Thranduil promised Varla he would annihilate every single one of those insects. That is why he left suddenly.”

If Gildor screamed at you, if he worshiped a forgotten god, if he talked with a bewitched shadow: you would not notice it.

Thranduil promised that? He put himself in danger, his army in danger, to help people that are not under his rule. He did something so brave, so dangerous, and why? Why did he promised that?

Oh.

It was before you had woke up. For you, it felt like a heavy sleep. Luthien said no one knew if you would wake up. No one knew if you would survive. Aerin said she knew, but she hugged you tightly.

That was the reason? Did he promised that almost as a deal with Varla? Did Thranduil feared that you would not wake up and decided that perhaps something great as defending a kingdom, something kind as protecting people that he did not need to, would make the gods look out for you? Did he cared that much?

Sinking deeper and deeper into your mind, rocked by your thoughts as if they were music, you were unaware to how could you felt. Thinking about Thranduil, regretting entered that damned meadow, a thick layer of ice joined your body to the roots. Talking to Gildor, the mist escaping your mouth was ignored completely.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“If there is no moving on...”

A scarlet glow shone through the murky night. Sparks leaps into the air, a dark cloud spread for miles, and the world shrunk into itself. No seas, skies or mountains. No animals, civilizations. The only thing that mattered in the whole world was that forest. And it was on fire.

Motionless on the grass, Thranduil could only watch it. He was nothing but a witness. Someone useless, frozen in space and time. Frozen in a distant, blurry memory. Trapped in a old nightmare.

It is a recurring one. Every night the same dream. Again, and again, and again. A forest fire, a useless witness, chronic pain climbing up his face. And then Thranduil wakes up. A recurring nightmare, a repetitive torture, that always left him with a itched face and moist eyes.

The clock is ticking just as it always have done, but at night seconds turn into millenniums. Thranduil’s futures fades, his past come back to haunt him. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting, time stretching. Surrounded by fire, Thranduil relives once again his worst memory.

Thranduil could not get near the fire. Even if it was possible to extinguish it, he would not. He would never. Because he can feel the warmth. The stench of old wood. And if he walks towards the fire, if he feels it against his skin, then it would mean that it is happening again.

And Thranduil would rather die.

Because when that happened, at the time this memory was his present, a part of him died in order for him to survive. He will not lose more.

The never saw before. The fire suddenly vanished.

Mist enveloped him. For a second Thranduil thought it was raining. When he looked down, he saw snowflakes melting against his skin. Like at the beginning of the season, when the first snow falls.

And when Thranduil looked at the forest again, the scarlet glow was replaced by a denim brightness. Sparks flying turned into falling snow. He could see the sky, the stars, the mountains so far away. You.

Every leaf that brushed against your hand, every stone that got in your way, every tiny breath you take: everything froze. Ice was spread along with your steps. And for the first time in a long time, he heard the end of the sentence that haunted him for eons. You whispered softly: “…then why are you running away?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Thranduil woke up boiling under the sheets. He clutched his chest in a vain attempt of calming his heart. It was only when his feet touched the cold ground that he remembered everything.

Thranduil remembered he is in the main tent of the camp set up to chase spider nests. He remembered it has been days since he tracked those insects and started to fulfill the promise of annihilating them one by one. Thranduil remembered the fire. And the ice.

The things Thranduil had denied to himself since the day he started this campaign came back to haunt his mind.

The white fabric, thick enough to protect him from the cold, covered the dark sky that surrounded his little army. And protect by it, with his privacy guaranteed, Thranduil ran to his table. And this time he did not convinced himself that it was the wrong choice, he just grabbed the letter-paper.

It has been days since Thranduil first wished to write to you. He already knew what to write. Every morning Thranduil imagined all the things he would say to you. Every hunt Thranduil imagined how you would answer him. Every night Thranduil feared how you would react.

But he never wrote.

He told himself it was a mistake. How could he write to you after that bitter farewell? You must regret ever meeting him. And Thranduil don’t blame you. He would do the same damn thing if a friend traveled without caring to say goodbye.

As it turns out, Thranduil is too old to be so easily deceived. Deep down he knew that was not the reason for him to not write for you. You may regret him. That is what he would do. And exactly because of that, Thranduil knows that this is not the reality. You are kinder than he would ever be.

You do not hold any grudge against Aerin. Thranduil heard her not calling you by your name, not letting you rest, telling you to go to the place that almost killed. And you do not hate her. Worse: you do not hate him. Thranduil spend every single hour of your unconscious hating himself. He could not protect you. He could not save you. You trusted him, you took his hand into yours. He killed that warg. Did it changed anything? Did that make his bite disappear, your blood stop spreading in the meadow, the sparkle come back to your eyes? And you thanked him when he gave you water.

So, no. Thranduil did not wrote for you, but not because he he knew you hated him. Not because of your reaction. Your despise. Your indifference. Thranduil did not wrote for you, and because he was afraid.

If he writes, it means that he was wrong. It means that he is the one regretting how things ended. He did not wished for a melancholic last memory and that only made it worse. That made Thranduil look heartless. And he does not want you to think about him like that.

Thranduil never wrote for you. Until now.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Lady,

I hope your days have been peaceful thus far. How is your recovery going? Luthien is a talented healer, I assure you she only does the best for your health. If something is ever needed, no matter what it is, I certainly can provide it for you. I sincerely wish you an uncomplicated improvement.

I am glad I left. At south of Rivendell, following the tracks of those worms that returned to haunt this land, my army and I do good to many. I cannot help but to wonder how many would have suffered, but did not because of our campaign. To leave was the right decision, a noble way to reciprocate how well my people were treated at Rivendell. Still, my mind comes back to our farewell.

It was selfish of me to not gave you an appropriate farewell. I did not wish for a last memory. For a last moment. I wanted our last memory to be one of our lessons. A last memory filled with joy. An selfish act, was it not?

My farewell — or the lack of it — was not meant to hurt you. I really did not aimed at your heart. But I guess this is not enough. Great intentions mostly are not enough.

I hope you are well. I hope you are recovering without any inconveniences. And I hope you do not regret ever meeting me.

Na lû e-govaned vîn,

Thranduil Oropherion.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It took you three hours of research to translate it. Soon you understood that your book was not enough. In the middle of the night, you ran to the library and dove between dictionaries.

You could have asked someone to translate it for you, but that letter was yours. Only yours. You felt jealous thinking about someone seeing his handwriting. About someone touching the scented paper. Someone reading his words. That letter was meant for your eyes. Only for them.

Na lû e-govaned vîn. To the time of our meeting.

[Fifth Chapter]

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[seals-are-cool]

Okay so great review of The Hobbit by my dad’s student, who must have read the book very, very carefully because he gave the most perfect, IMMACULATE description of the plot and the characters:

The Hobbit is a prequel to J.J.J.R.R.Tolkien’s The King of the Rings

The protagonist is Bilbo, a dwarf who goes on an adventure with other dwarves, elfs and goblins, and the films show many of the landscapes described in the book

They fight against many enemies, such as dwarves, elfs and ogres and Gandalf is a magician who is very powerful

The elf Bilbo must take the ring back from Smaug who is the king of the rings and is keeping all the treasure in the world for himself and they must kill him by stabbing him in the part of his body that doesn’t have scales

There is a very big battle where all the armies fight each other and it is the most exciting part of the film (you were writing a review for the film my dear boy)

In the end, Bilbo, the hobbit, can go to his house safe again and remember all his adventures

He deserves the highest mark for the best unintentional parody and I know in my heart his version is the one Tolkien had intended from the beginning

[nightfall-writer]

"Over a Stupid Rock"

A/N: Sorry for the Author notes on the last two imagines! I am using a prompt (which will be in bold below) although I did not come up with it. Creativepromptsforwriting did and I thought it would be good to use it for Thorin or Thranduil. If you guys want a Thranduil version later I will write one! This is a longer than the last one.

Link to Creative’s profile: https://www.tumblr.com/creativepromptsforwriting

Thorin x Reader

Word count: 504

Warnings: Slight Angst, Dragon sickness, Thorin doesn’t say if he likes the reader back or not

You liked Thorin since you were in Beorn's house. At first, you didn't mind him, he kept to himself except for talking to some of the other dwarves. You enjoyed the company of the other dwarves even though you weren’t with them at the loss of their home. Everything was going smoothly until Smaug was defeated. That’s when Thorin changed, the other dwarves didn’t seem to notice much at first. You and Bilbo thought at least until you talked to Balin. “Dragon sickness” Balin starts, “I’ve seen it before. That look. The terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, It sent his grandfather mad.” He sighs.

“Are you sure?” You ask, “Positive” Balin states. “Balin, If Thorin, had the Arkenstone, or if it was found, would it help?” Biblo asks. “That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness? No, laddie. I fear it would make him worse. Perhaps it is best, it remains lost” Balin says. You start looking at Bilbo before walking away. You sigh as you hear Bilbo calling for you, “Yes Bilbo?” you ask. “Where are you going?” He replied. “I’m going to talk to him, I know it might not do much but it's worth a shot,” you say. “Very well, I wish you luck He is not the easiest to talk to at the moment,” Bilbo replies. You shake your head and leave going to find Thorin.

“Thorin! Can we talk for a minute” You ask after finally finding him. He’s where you should've known him to be, Looking over his gems as others look for the Arkenstone. “What is it?” he says a bit coldly. “Erm, We’ve been searching for a while now, perhaps we should take a break?” You ask. “No, we shall keep looking til it is found. Perhaps someone stole it.” He states. “Stole? Thorin these people are basically your family! None of them would steal it.” you say a bit too quickly. “Perhaps you stole it” He stares at you after he says it. You look at him in complete disbelief that he would even accuse you.

 “Me? Why on earth would I want it?” you say a bit loud. “Perhaps you want the riches for yourself!” He yells and turns completely at you. “At your Betrayal, please!” you say. “Why wouldn’t you, Why would you care about me!?” He asks loudly. “I-” you start but cannot bring yourself to finish the sentence. “I’m listening” he states after a few seconds of you not saying anything. “I like you Thorin.” You say not making eye contact. He chuckles a bit making you look at him. “Can’t blame you, I’m pretty awesome” He says, You scoff and look at him. “I cannot believe how low you’ve gotten over a stupid rock.” You say and turn away and leave. You hear him get upset but before he can say anything you turn the corner and continue to walk.

[mikathemonster]

“kisses and fireworks”

author’s note: happy new year everyone! I'm so excited to go into 2023, I feel like things can only go up from here :D and while I'm feeling very hopeful and optimistic, I figured I'd write a little treat to commemorate the new year with the classic tradition of a new year’s kiss! I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 5,165

summary: Finally being able to witness the majesty of Erebor on the anniversary of Durin’s Day was already enough for your hungry heart, but maybe there was more to these mountain halls than just architecture...

content warnings: Post-BOTFA, Everyone Lives! AU, knives, fireworks

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Five years. That’s how long it had taken to rebuild Erebor from the aftermath of Smaug’s conquest, to rebuild Dale into the prosperous city it once was, and for the rich trade of Laketown to return. Five whole years. And in those five years, news of Thorin Oakenshield had spread like wildfire; people gathered to tell stories of his great journey and monumental accomplishments. He was like a dwarven god, a figment of heroism built upon a true and very real legacy. Portraits were made of him, and the great city of Dale had even erected a statue in his honor. He was the picture of dwarven royalty; a hard-worn and steely gaze followed by an aura of immense power and dignity. You had come to know his face well, catching tales of the stories all the way in The Angle. In fact, it was for that reason you had journeyed east of your home, hoping to see the majesty of Erebor for yourself. Your journey took place on the fifth anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation.

Now, it had been ten years since Smaug’s demise, and five years since your own journey. When you had originally traveled east, you had come to find out through merchants in Laketown that the dwarven kingdom of Erebor prohibited outsiders from entering, save for the few dignitaries of Men and Elves that had aided Erebor in their time of need. Despite being let down by this, your determination hadn’t been swayed. Onward, you pressed on, eventually settling down in Dale for the better half of the last few years. Keeping a trade, you had gotten into smithing, setting up a small shop for yourself where you crafted decorated chains and knives of silver steel. You were known for your highly-detailed decorative work, especially when it came to hilts of blades. And for a while, you were satisfied with your new life you had made for yourself. But as days went on, you often wondered if there was any chance to see more than simple daydreams of the proud dwarven kingdom.

And just your luck, there was! News spread fast throughout Dale of a banquet to be held in the massive halls of Erebor, and the invitation had been extended to anyone who wished to come. You all but jumped in delight at the thought that after all this time, you’d finally see the great city-kingdom. More news of the banquet came to pass, and you wasted no time in finding a suitable outfit. It would be held on Durin’s Day, the anniversary of Thorin’s company reclaiming Erebor with the death of Smaug, and would commemorate the tenth year of Erebor’s reclamation. Another new and prosperous year was to be celebrated, and you had even heard word that Gandalf the Grey would be conjuring up fireworks for the spectacle. How excited you were to see a wizard! How excited you were to see Erebor! You were so wildly excited for this, wondering what could possibly lie beyond those bedrock gates. Perhaps you would even meet a jeweler who would be willing to supply you gems for your craft! Oh, it felt like the possibilities were truly endless.

The next few days, as Durin’s Day was merely a week away, seemed to whizz by rather quickly. Within two days, you had already found your outfit: a billowing cream-white tunic tucked into a long brown skirt, which was embellished with silver embroidery along the seams and edges. Bringing everything in together was a quilted green vest, also embroidered with silver thread resembling leaves. You decided this would be a fine opportunity to showcase your handiwork, and so all your jewelry was your own: a thin bronze band engraved with feathers on your right hand, a delicate silver chain adorning your neck with a blue pendant, and a chain belt of shining bronze wrapped around your waist, with the metal peppered in decorative carvings. It was modest, surely, but you felt regal enough to grin every time you caught yourself admiring your silhouette in a mirror.

Two more days passed, and you had found yourself busy with your latest order: three knives, all sisters, and all to be made with your finest work. The customer, a young dwarrowdam named Bralva, had insisted the knives be prepared and finished before the banquet. You would’ve refused the order for the lack of time if she hadn’t promised to reward you handsomely. Fueled by the notion that you would need to buy new tools soon, you had taken her on.

“But what for, if I may ask?” You were perplexed by her need to rush. “For Durin’s Day? I thought weapons wouldn’t be allowed at such a banquet.”

“Oh Mahal, no!” Bralva chided. “They’re not for me, dear. Ten years I’ve waited to see my homeland again, and I won’t risk the chance to not marry well into Durin’s line while I’m at it! I plan on offering them to the king and princes, in hopes I marry off.”

“Marriage?” You scoffed. “At a celebration of a new year?”

“You think of me as a joke, but I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. “All three royals of Erebor sit unmarried as it stands. With gifts such as these, I’m bound to make my presence known well!”

You simply laughed her off, not wanting to risk insulting her and therefore lose a customer. “Alright, alright, then I wish you well, Miss. But how can you be so willing to marry a stranger?”

“It’s a new year, dear. How can you be so unaccepting of wishful thinking? Besides, banquets like these are such romantic places to find love. Or lust…” She muttered the last bit, her cheeks glowing as rosy as her magnificent beard from thinking such thoughts.

That was the last you had seen her in all her glory, and since then you had been set to work on making the most exquisite knives you had crafted yet. Now, on whether or not they’d be worthy of a royal marriage, you weren’t sure. But you would damn well try your hardest! You had immediately gotten to work on the blades once she left, and spent the next two days working on the hilts with such a ferocious intensity and tenacity that by the time she came to collect them on the morning of Durin’s Day, you were exhausted. Sleep tugged at your undereyes and you were in desperate need of a shower.

“My, the skill! I dare say you have almost the talent of a dwarf! ” Bralva cheered, holding one of the delicate blades up to her face for a better look. And, just as promised, you had indeed been rewarded quite handsomely, with a pouch full of gold pieces in your hands. Unfortunately, in your exhaustion, you had missed her compliment and only picked up on her muttering about dwarven princes and marriage.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course,” you mused in your sleepy stupor.

“My dear, I hope you intend to bathe before tonight,” she chuckled, waving a hand at your disheveled appearance. “Luck will not be on your side if this is to be your attire!”

You sighed, casting a quick glance in the mirror. By the gods, she was right. You shrugged her off, letting out a tired groan. “I’ll be fine, there’s still a whole rest of the day before the banquet tonight. Besides, luck should favor you more if you plan to be wed so soon.”

She blushed at your words, giggling to herself. “But still! You are young, and you won’t get any younger! Take it from an old dwarrow, my dear.”

“Old?” You scoffed, running a hand through your hair to get it out of your face as you got a better look at her. “Look at you! You’re so beautiful and young, yourself! How old can you possibly be?”

“A woman never tells her age,” she chuckled, leaning in. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But if you must know, I’m to be 183 soon.”

You bit your tongue from cursing in shock. It seemed you had forgotten the differences in life spans between man and dwarf. “What? Surely you jest!”

Again, you were graced with a blushing and smiling Bralva. “Still, my dear, don’t refuse love to come to you! Who knows, with three single royals, maybe we’ll both end up with one!” She winked, and you silently hoped she’d buy your wares again in the future. She was cheekily amusing, and good gossip and entertainment was hard to come by when you were always holed up to work on your chains and knives.

“Well how am I to know if I’m in the presence of a prince?” You leaned in, humoring her despite the slight ache in your back. Once you wrapped up with her, you were intent on taking a nap after a vigorous bath. “I hardly think they’d be impressed by me, after all.”

“Well, your looks are certainly considered more… unorthodox to most dwarves, and considering you’re not a dwarf yourself…” She trailed off, realizing that maybe she hadn’t fully meant it when she jested about you both marrying off. “But nevermind that! The princes are as strong as they are young! Too young for me, I'm sure, but I’ll certainly still try!” She gave another wink, and you chuckled, realizing she still hadn’t answered your question.

“Yes, but I’ve only seen portraits of King Thorin. How will I know which ones are the princes?” You smiled, enjoying the conversation. It was nice to talk to someone after working for three days straight.

“Well, they both have the same powerful looks as they’re uncle, that’s for sure. I myself haven’t seen them, but I’ve heard tales that the oldest one carries beautiful metal beads in his mustache braids, and he’s skilled with swords and knives! He’s a natural warrior, he is!”

“And the other?”

“I’ve heard less of him, only that he once took a Morgul shaft and survived, and that he cannot grow a beard,” She sighed, muttering. “Poor thing.”

“Surely you know more about these two than their beards, or lack thereof?” You scoffed.

“I know enough to gift them your beautiful work! That’s all I need!” She grinned, boasting. “And speaking of which, I’ve got to go get ready! Time moves quickly when corsets and gowns are involved, my dear. Take care!”

You waved as she left, saying your own goodbyes, and soon as she was out of your eyesight, you immediately closed up shop. If she was already getting ready and it was still morning, it seemed you’d need to hurry yourself as well.

Hours passed, and after bathing yourself and falling asleep in the bath, you deemed yourself hygienically appropriate for a banquet. The dirt and grease from your trade had been scrubbed off, your hair now brushed and freshly cleaned, and you smelled more like a normal person and less like a furnace. A job well done, I’d say! Now, all that was left was to get ready for the night.

Now, while you hadn’t planned on arriving particularly early, you were mildly annoyed with yourself and how late you had become. Bralva was right to mention getting ready takes time; you had spent a whole hour trying to do something with you hair! Eventually, you settled with wearing it down and peppering it with small braids hidden within the tresses.

The trek from Dale to Erebor wasn’t terribly long, and it was more of a hike than a trek, as the path was already lit with torches that beckoned visitors into the night mountain fortress. You couldn’t help the excitement you felt, which pressured your feet to walk faster as you tried not to practically run to the mountain. Oh, Erebor! Finally, you would see if all the legends of its majesty you had heard were true!

As you stepped into the halls of the mountain, you couldn’t help but gawk in awe of the architecture. Hell, you had thought Dale to be lovely and beautiful, but even the glorious city not too far away now paled in comparison to the extravagance of Erebor. Glittering gold accented every wall, every pillar, every carving into the darkened stone of the mountain. Each shadow in the halls cast a green glow about the place, luring you in like a moth drawn to flame. It was enchanting, alluring, and breathtaking. And despite finding yourself taller than almost all of the folk around you, you looked up at the terrifically high-vaulted ceilings of the mountain and found yourself feeling small. The ceilings themselves were beautiful as well, gems glittering in the mountain-rock that even underground, it felt like you were stargazing.  

After minutes passed by of you taking in the scenery, you found yourself being led deeper into the mountain halls where the true festivities began. In one of Erebor’s many great halls, it seemed the banquet had been going for quite some time already (which made sense, after all you hadn’t exactly been on time). Tables filled with sweet meats and good drink with an endless amount of laughter and drunken shenanigans, and the back of the hall served as a ballroom, where many regal-looking dwarrowdams were seeking the attention of any young dwarrow who they deemed fit to dance with. A part of you wondered where Bralva might have wandered off to. At the very head of this hall lay a large stone table littered with delicacies and fine wines, fit with four grand thrones behind it. You only recognized one of the two seated at the table: Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. Next to him sat a dwarrowdam of immense beauty, her beard beautifully braided down her dress. She shared the same steely gaze as the king, and you wondered if they were related. The two thrones on each side of them sat empty, and you assumed that meant that the princes were off somewhere.

Eager to dip your toes into the culture and wonder of Erebor, you quickly made your way down to the tables to fetch yourself a bottle of ale, finding the taste as delicious as it was potent. You wandered around the outskirts of the hall, snacking on foods here and there and occasionally being dragged in to dance with random strangers that beckoned you onto the dance floor. And how could you not? It was the celebration of a new year! And what a mighty celebration it was, as your night quickly began getting filled by being whisked onto the dance floor by men and women alike. Amidst the dancing bodies and jigs being played, you spotted Bralva merrily along, and eagerly returned an exciting wave. She was bladeless, which meant she had successfully completed part of her mission: gifting the royalty your best works. It was an honor, really, and you wish you could have seen their reactions. Better yet, you wondered how much more of Erebor you could see before the night ended, considering you weren’t sure whether the kingdom would remain open to all after tonight’s feasting. If you snuck off of the ballroom floor right now, there was still a chance you could sneak into the kingdom’s halls scot-free with none the wiser.

And so, armed with your second bottle of ale (not that you needed more, you were already starting to feel tipsy), you snuck out of the great banquet’s hall and found yourself meandering through the dark stone corridors, lit only by torches. It began to seem to you that a place like this would be impossible to live in. Hardly anything was marked, every hallway looked the same, and no matter how grand the architecture was, you found yourself incredibly and hopelessly lost. Leaning against a wall, you slumped down onto the floor, legs sprawled out in front of you as you quietly drank your ale. What were you to do? You’d rather be caught by a guard and thrown out of the party than risk trying to find your way back and only getting more lost! At least for now, you could live in your dream that had up until now been simply that. A dream.

Time passed slowly, and your only measure of it was your ale reaching the halfway point in its bottle. You were starting to get bored of sitting around, and desperately craved something to do. Perhaps you should try and explore some more? Maybe try to find the rumored treasure halls of Thráin? Or perhaps you could try to steal a peek of the forges, if you were even that lucky?

Unfortunately, time waits for no man, least of all one stuck in a decision. For in your pondering, you hadn’t realized that a certain dwarrow was running right towards you, seeming to try and escape someone or something else with a cheeky glint in his eye. But right when you noticed him, it was all too late; in his haste, he hadn’t seen your extended legs, and tripped over them like a blithering fool. You quickly got onto your knees, horror creeping on your face as you’d realize what you accidentally did.

“Oh. Oh my gosh! Oh my, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to, truly!” You pleaded, extending a hand on his back for reassurance. “Are you okay? I didn’t even see you, I’m so sorry!”

The dwarf sat up, propped up on his elbow while the other hand went to his nose to check for blood. Nothing. It seemed he was about to scold you until his eyes met yours, and suddenly he was looking at you with such wonder that you thought maybe he really had hit his head.

“Are you alright? Is anything bleeding?” Your eyes scanned his features, looking for any sort of bruise he could have suffered, and trying to stay focused all at once. My, he was handsome. Tousled brown hair that fell down in waves upon his shoulders, wondrous brown eyes that seemed to glimmer in the dark, and rough stubble growing out of his face in a sort of ruggish beauty.

Finally, his speech returned to him. “I’m fine, really. I’m so clumsy, it seems we both didn’t see each other.” He smiled, and for some reason you were so enamored by it. You had only just met this man, and yet you already couldn’t get enough of that charming smile.

“Well, that’s a relief!” You sighed, sitting back on the floor, distancing yourself lest you find yourself flustered in front of this beautiful dwarf. “You had me worried there, you could’ve really hurt something.”

“Well, it’s not every day I find myself tripping over people in the hallways,” he mused. “What are you doing in here? You’re not from here, are you?”

You offered him your bottle of ale, and he obliged. “I live in Dale, I have a smithing shop there. I moved here years ago to see Erebor, and the one night I’m let in, I get myself lost!” You groaned, frustrated but still seeing the humor in your misfortune as you chuckled dryly. “I mean, a grand kingdom such as this, and I’m lost! Nothing is marked, there’s no signs anywhere! How do you even get from here to there in a place like this?”

The dwarf laughed at your plight, and despite the embarrassment you were enduring, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “The halls are marked, they’ve always been!”

“What?” You were awestruck, mostly out of ignorance. “Where?!”

“Look at the floors, they’re marked,” he said, moving closer to show you as he pointed his finger at a corner of the floor. As you leaned in to get a better look, you found he was right. Each hall was color-coded by the gem embedded in the stone flooring. Your jaw dropped, but you were quick to pick it back up.

“Wait, but how is any of that supposed to help me? I don’t know which means what!” You leaned back, exasperated, much to the dwarf’s amusement.

“That’s the point. Each gem holds a meaning in our culture, which makes it easy for us to navigate these halls and even easier for trespassers to get lost. It worked for everything except a dragon,” he smiled, looking at your annoyed expression. Suddenly feeling all too noticed as you caught him staring, your face felt hot and flushed, and you were sure it wasn’t just the ale this time.

“Alright, fine,” you lamented. “You caught me. Next time I sneak around these halls, I’ll just bring you along to make it easier.”

“Well,” he spoke, getting up from the floor and offering a hand to help you stand back up, his other hand holding your bottle of ale. “I can’t say I would mind, you already seem like such great company.”

You politely took his hand, standing up yourself to find the dwarf only coming up to your chest. You felt your face heat up again at the sight, taking in how… cute he looked. “I’m sorry,” you took a step back, shaking your head. “I don’t think I even got your name? I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…” He whispered it to himself, almost like a secret, and found himself smiling after. “It’s beautiful.”

You chuckled nervously, not sure how to handle all the sweet attention. “And yours is?”

He thought for a moment, seeming to ponder whether or not he should tell you, which seemed a little absurd after how friendly you two had been so far. The least you were owed was a name.

“Kíli,” he said with a bow. “At your service.”

“Oh my, it seems your tripping has caused me to trip over my words,” you joked, returning the bow. “However will I repay you?”

He immediately sprung back up, an idea already in his mind. “Your company, perhaps?”

You seemed playfully shocked, putting a hand across your chest. “Who, me? Well who would I be if I declined?”

He smiled at your answer, taking your hand into his as he led you down the halls of Erebor with a swift tenacity just like he had entered with. “This way, I want to show you something!”

You let yourself be dragged across the mountain kingdom with Kíli leading the way, a giddy but nervous smile plastered on your face from holding hands like this. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the excitement of the night, but you were having a grand time being lost, so long as it was with Kíli.

After three minutes of twists and turns within the mountain rock later, suddenly you found yourself on a balcony high above the great hall of the banquet, so high up that the ceiling no longer felt so big. In fact, you yourself felt much bigger now that you had the view of the whole banquet, where everyone else seemed like little partying ants. You were speechless, there simply weren't any words left to describe how amazing this secret spot was. You quickly turned to Kíli, smiling wide like a cat.

“This.. This is amazing!” You shouted, but quickly hushed yourself amidst Kíli’s own shushes, which were accompanied by the most precious smile you’d seen. God, that smile of his shone brighter than any of the precious gems you had seen tonight, brighter than even the stars themselves. You so desperately wanted more of that shining light, especially for yourself.

“Isn’t it?��� He smiled, inviting you back down to the floor to sit down. “It’s my secret little spot, I come here whenever I want to be alone, or away from the throngs of people. Not even my own brother knows how to get up here.”

“Well neither do I, so consider your secret kept safe,” you laughed, taking in a moment to look back down at the party scene below. With squinting eyes you could make out Thorin Oakenshield, who now was in deep conversation with a younger, blonde dwarf. Despite the distance, you could make out metal beads in his braids. “That must be one of the princes, look!” You pointed, scooting closer to Kíli so he could see it from your eye line better.

“Really?” He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, but you were too excited to notice. “How do you know?”

“A customer of mine bought some knives from me — beautifully decorated, may I add — in the hopes to present them to the princes and king and maybe even marry them!” You giggled at the last bit, the alcohol making Bralva’s boasts even sillier in your head. Quickly, you searched for Bralva’s beard amidst the sea of dancing ants. “Look! There she is!”

Kíli leaned even closer now to see, his cheek grazing yours, and it made you turn your head to look at him. Reading his expression, you could tell the exact moment his eyes found Bralva, his eyes glimmering once again with that devilish smile of his. You don’t know what led you to be so bold in this next moment, but by some small amount of courage, you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

He was quick to turn and look at you, his face shocked at your gesture, before his shock melted into a giddy smile of joy. A small laugh left his lips, and he raised a hand to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Mahal…” he whispered to himself, smiling softly. “Even the stars cannot compare to how radiant you are tonight…”

Your eyes widened at his words, unsure of what to say. You’d never been told such sweet things before. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t,” he chuckled, leaning in closer. Ever so slowly, he leaned in, his lips drawing ever nearer but not quite touching as if to ask for a silent confirmation of what was about to happen. Happy to give it, you leaned into him, your lips finally joining together in a kiss that was soft and slow. Your hand took its time to reach into his hair, and you felt him smile into the kiss as you did so, his own hands coming to rest at the nape of your neck and caress your jawline. You felt like you could keep kissing him like this forever, but all too soon, you pulled away, nervous.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered. You weren’t ashamed, just a little anxious. “I’ve.. Well I'm not... I’ve never-“

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he smiled, petting your head reassuringly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, lingering for just a sweet moment. “There’s no need to explain. We could go somewhere quieter, if you’d like.”

You thought for a moment, catching your breath. You very much wanted to keep kissing him: there was something so addictingly sweet about kissing him. But it seems you definitely needed a moment to collect your thoughts first. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.”

“Of course,” he spoke softly, his voice so kind and gentle. He was kind and gentle. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You nodded with a smile, standing up in tandem with him, when all of a sudden…

BOOM!

Up in the air, the fireworks show had begun, startling you and causing you to jump, knocking you and Kíli back down as you stared at the sparkling fireworks that lingered in the air, resembling butterflies. A sigh of relief washed over you, and you laughed to yourself before looking back to Kíli, who seemed to be in pain. “Oh my gosh!” You quickly got back up, not wanting to crush the poor dwarf. “I’m so sorry, I just got startled, and-“

“No, no, don’t be! It’s not you, it’s-“ he winced, pulling something from under his vest. He must have landed on it, but what he pulled out surprised you more than anything about tonight. There it was, shimmering in the light of the fireworks. Your own handiwork on full display as he held one of the knives you had crafted for Bralva.

“You… You’re…” You pointed a finger at the blade, still so overwhelmed and shocked by the nature of it all. Could it be? There was no way! What were the chances?

“What?” He feigned innocence, getting up. “Charming? Rugged? A sight to behold?”

“You’re the other prince!” You exclaimed, still in shock.

“Ah, right,” he nodded sarcastically. “You know, I always seem to forget that one.” He chuckled to himself, looking away for a moment before turning back to look at you, holding the blade out to you. “It truly is a wonderful gift, Y/N. I'm honored to have met the craftsman behind it.”

You scoffed, now coming back to your senses. “I think you’ve done a little more than ‘meeting’ the craftsman, Kíli. Or am I supposed to call you Your Highness?”

“Just Kíli will do, I can assure you, love.” He smiled, amused at your aloofness towards his title. “And as for doing ‘more than meeting’,” he took a step closer to you, offering his hand. “If you still feel the same, I’d love to continue ‘meeting’ you…”

Love. He had called you love. Gods…

You furrowed your brow, contemplating for a moment, all too worried of what this would implicate for both you and him. He was a dwarven prince, a direct descendant of Durin himself! And you? You were just a smith from Dale, with nothing to your name other than your skill. Could it even work?

Just as you tried desperately to reach a decision, another round of fireworks went off, the sparklers erupting into silvery leaves that fell onto the crowd. And suddenly, you knew. There was nothing else to wonder, to ponder, to overthink.

You turned back to him, leaning in as you dove for another kiss, this one slightly more fervent and desperate, just in case you’d risk never seeing him again. He was a stranger, but he was starlight. He was the sun, and you weren’t sure if you’d bloom again if it wasn’t by his rays. Your hands reached into his hair, tugging slightly, and he eagerly smiled into it, his own hands snaking up your body to rest on your waist, pulling you closer despite the height difference. He laughed between the dance of your lips, pulling away for a moment.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” His child-like eyes seemed to lure you in and drown you in their murky waters, and you wanted nothing more.

You smiled, looking down at him. “My prince, I believe you’d be correct.” And before the shorter one could get another word in, you took his hand, leading him away to somewhere quieter where you two could escape.

And while you may continue to get lost in the halls of Erebor, it was beginning to seem as though having Kíli as your compass, your guiding light, wouldn’t be too bad.

[astrovian]

Richard Armitage on playing Thorin Oakenshield for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey Chronicles

The first meeting I had with Peter, Fran and Phillipa was the casting. I was given a scene to read that was actually a construct - it wasn't from the book. It was at this point that I became really excited by the idea, that the book was going to be the backbone of a much more fleshed out, well-rounded story. The scene they gave me to read was Thorin talking to Balin about who the Dwarves had once been, what they had become, why the Wizard had come to him with the map and the key, but that he didn't feel he had the strength to do this. In one scene, the writers had captured exactly what his character was all about - his dreams, his regrets, his insecurities, and his power.

Throughout the filming process, I was able to bounce my ideas around our forum. Often, ideas would spring from drafts of scenes being 'workshopped', or in progress. As we all grew to know and understand Thorin, the collaboration became easier. The way the character looked was very much in Peter, Fran and Philippa's hands; the way he moved, spoke, and delivered the ideas on the page were mine and Tolkien's. I was inspired very much by a particular pencil sketch of John Howe's, particularly the hands, eyes and nose. I felt they weren't dissimilar to my own. There was also a gentle, pensive attitude in the picture which I hadn't seen in Tolkien. It gave me a useful colour to paint with.

The most exciting part of collaboration though, isn't when one sits down to negotiate for ideas to make it into the script or film, but when they appear in the script at the very moment when they are desired. This happened a lot. This is when I felt we were all in tune. The lines never had to be learned. I suppose Peter, Fran and Philippa were hearing my voice when they wrote a scene - another great compliment - and when imagining that scene, I was in tune with the flavour of neo-classicism that I felt our writers were enjoying: the Dwarf kingdoms felt like the great Roman empires, and the literature and philosophical ideas were in line with Greek tragedy, at times Shakespearean. I felt that it was appropriate to allow myself to wander down that path, after all Thorin was heading for a kind of megalomaniacal insanity, which is a difficult thing to play without embracing that 'full throttle' style of art.

I always imagine chracters who are defined by their history. If it's not there than I will inevitably construct a detailed biography. For Thorin this was very easy as Tolkien had given so much material to us through various other sources in his literature, but I still needed to investigate a more domestic biography; 'What do Thorin and Dwalin "chew the fat about"?' or, 'What was Thorin's relationship with his sister Dís like?' I felt that might inform how Fili and Kili would feature in Thorin's life.

The difficulty with Thorin is that he enters the story on the edge of failure, but with everything to win. I remember thinking when I first read the scene for the casting, that here was a character who felt like a dying ember, yet with the energy and hope to reignite into the furnace that once powered this great warrior. But, he has all the potential to fail.

I connect personally with that last sentiment. I was never really sure if I could pull this role off; I felt secretly that many others also felt the same and it's one of the reasons I could never sit down on set (I am a pacer, apparently). I could never rest.

Thorin is the same . He hasn't slept easily in his bed since the Dragon expelled them from Erebor. Thorin's grandfather went mad and his father disappeared a year ago to the day when the Quest begins. The desire for revenge upon Smaug and also on Azog, who beheaded his grandfather, has been bequeathed to him. That's a huge burden to carry, and one that can't be shared.

The glory of returning his people to their homeland is also in the mix, along with the personal revenge on the slaughter of his family. Also, buried deep inside of Thorin is a dormant lust for gold, a lust inherited from the line of Durin, and just as the Dragon who will be woken when the King returns to the Mountain, so too that dormant illness inside of Thorin will awake. He knows this and he fears it.

So really, the 'engine' which brings Thorin to lead his fellow Dwarves to their destiny is fuelled by the past but is 'front wheel' driven, towards their future, their destiny, their prophecy. It's a great place to imagine a character because they are always in flux, pulled towards something, which they fear, springing from a rage-fuelled past.

[kellyvela]

One of my favorite things about Dani and her fans is how much they have romanticized dragons and unironically feed into the mother of dragons title and will literally treat those three lizards like they are her 'children.' Like, they don't know that considering fire breathing lizards that can only destroy as your children is probably not a great thing in their fave's arc lol.

Let me answer you with GRRM's words, from the comment section of his blog post "Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014).

George's ranking of the Cooles Dragons Ever is:

Vermithrax Pejorative (From Dragonslayer)

Smaug (From The Hobbit)

Drogon (From Asoiaf)

In the comments, a couple of readers argued that "Draco" (From Dragonheart) was "the nicest dragon ever" and "the most friendly and charming dragon."

This was GRRM's answer to them:

"Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming"

So, lets add this quote to the list:

Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them —GRRM - Vulture - 2011

Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming —Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014)

She[Dany]'s the mother of dragons, and she controls what is in effect the only three nuclear weapons in the entire world that I’ve created. —“Interview exclusive de George R R Martin, l'auteur de Game Of Thrones” de -Le Mouv’- 2014 - [Transcription]

If I were Daenerys Targaryen. I could ride on my dragons and eliminate them in the flames. But is death the only solution we have to offer? —Lire Magazine - April 2015

“Oh sure, dragons are cool too,” he chuckles. “But maybe not on our doorstep”. —The Guardian - November 2018

Maybe if she[Dany] understood a few things more about dragons and her own history in Essos, things would have gone a little differently. —Esquire - November 2018

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there. (...) “She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in ‘Fire and Blood,’ we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.” —GRRM - Fox News Channel - November 2018

"In my head the expression "mother of dragons" is much better than "father of dragons". There is also this link with the woman who gives life, who transmits lives, carrying a gigantic power of death, of fire, of destruction. There are very powerful metaphors in there." —Dragons! (2/4) Dragons d'Occident, la figure du mal [2018] - Video - Reddit translation

Now dragons are really formidable and they can turn the tide of a battle. It flies, it's difficult to hit, it breathes fire, against which most knights and men at arms have little or no protection. So if you have dragons, that's were the nuclear option analogy comes in. You're hard to mess around with. So the dragons and fear of dragons was one of the things that made the Targaryens very secure in their power. —Before the Dance: An Illustrated History with George R.R. Martin | House of the Dragon (HBO) - August - 2022

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read more here:

Chronicle of a Death Foretold

Queen of Ashes

All Grrm Quotes About Dragons

[junofangz]

Smaug the guardian

And Tye the student

So to sum up the story

Tye was born to a unicorn and a dragon

But shortly after his birth, a war broke out

between two tribes and his father died

protecting them

His mother ran but knew she couldn't keep

them safe anymore on her own. She wrote a

note and left tye with a charm, inside a lock

of his father and mother's hair. She is now

dead as well.

He was sent off and found later by the great

Smaug who was a wise big dragon, his

fathers age. He took tye in as his own and

raised him. He helped tye grow his unicorr

power and master it, giving him a

scholarship into the school smaug runs!

To this day Smaug sees tye as his own son

[chasingshadowsblog]

"Home is now behind you. The world is ahead." - Going on an adventure with The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

The Lord of the Rings films have been such a firm part of my life that I can't remember a time before them. I can't imagine a period when I didn't know the characters names, every note of the score, and the inflections of every line. I am less familiar with The Hobbit trilogy, a lot of which comes down to time. Lord of the Rings came out when I was far too young to see them in the cinema but somehow saw them at home not long after, so they've had plenty of time to stew. While I saw every Hobbit movie in the cinema on release and enjoyed watching them, they didn't have the staying power of the previous trilogy. While I'm disappointed that The Hobbit films veered so far from the book, in its own way, this version of the story brings me as much joy. The films may have added where they shouldn't but a lot of the time the additions enrich the story and background history of this period in Middle-Earth. Overall they capture the essence of what makes the story a classic: Bilbo's growth as a hero and the excitement of adventure, with the cautionary tale on the dangers of greed that lies at its heart. What follows is the beginning of a retrospective on The Hobbit trilogy - the good, the bad and everything in between. It wasn't always easy, but, it was always fun.

And it starts, well, it starts as you might expect… With an expositional monologue providing background context for the wider story.

"I think it is time for you to know what really happened." 'My Dear Frodo' is the first track on Howard Shore's score for An Unexpected Journey. It is also the opening line of a twenty-minute long sequence that acts as a prologue for the three movies. In it, Ian Holm's older Bilbo begins to write the events of The Hobbit as he tells it to Frodo, filling in all of the details he may have left out in the past, "My Dear Frodo, you asked me once if I had told you everything there is to know about my adventures and while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it." From the very moment the title card fades in (with that familiar Shire theme that immediately warms the heart) to Frodo running off to surprise Gandalf, this prologue is fantastic. The imagery alone is stunning, like the set design of Erebor and the shot of the dragon kite with the real Smaug's shadow looming over it as he ascends on the mountain. Howard Shore returns with the introduction of the Erebor theme, and the very language of the piece echoes the 'Misty Mountain' song the Dwarves sing that first night they spent in Bilbo's kitchen - "The trees like torches blazing bright" - evoking not just the atmosphere of the dragon's attack on Erebor, but the effect the Dwarves had on Bilbo echoing through all these years later.

The prologue also introduces the Arkenstone, "the heart of the mountain." In the book, the Arkenstone is simply a valuable heirloom, but here it represents leadership over the entire Dwarven kingdom; we will learn in The Desolation of Smaug that the seven Dwarf clans will only unite under one who holds the Arkenstone. Even though Thorin is the heir to the kingdom of Erebor, without the stone he would have no kingdom to rule. I like that the Arkenstone has become a symbol for Thorin to hold onto in his journey; the Arkenstone now represents Thorin's identity as the King of Erebor, and even when they have the mountain back and the dragon is dead, he still pushes them all to find the stone and goes so far as to believe one of them has stolen it from him. The Arkenstone is only a device, but it's one that comes to represent the worst parts of Thorin, the ones that he so vehemently denies sharing with his grandfather, Thror. "…and a great anger without hope burned within him as he smote the red iron on the anvil." The prologue also effectively draws on snippets from Tolkien's appendix notes on Dwarvish history and turns them into something powerful. This is a line that comes at the end of a short section relating to Thorin after the taking of Erebor, now burdened with a desire for vengeance and responsibility for his people. In a similar way Jackson manages to evoke this feeling with a simple line and powerful image: "And he never forgave, and he never forgot." In this way, the prologue represents the best of Jackson's abilities to draw on the deeper history of Middle-Earth.

(I mean...)

"To think that I should have lived to be 'good morning-ed' by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door!" Immediately following the prologue is the best scene in the trilogy. The introductory scene between Gandalf and Bilbo (between Ian McKellan and Martin Freeman) is the most perfectly translated scene from book to screen that I have ever seen. Yes, it's almost verbatim Tolkien's dialogue, but dialogue cannot accomplish this task alone. The performance between the two actors is stupendous: every beat, delivery and facial expression is spot on. At once, it becomes clear that Martin Freeman is going to be the perfect Bilbo and as an introduction it is beyond reassuring. Freeman brings a physicality to Bilbo across all three films that, even when he's not speaking, ensures his personality always shines through making all of his moments that much more enjoyable. Here, his begrudging politeness towards Gandalf, then confusion and panic at the first mention of adventure is quintessential Hobbit behaviour, executed stuffily and perfectly by the actor. Ian McKellan is a fun contrast, as he enjoys making the Bilbo suffer, "Well, that's decided then. It will be good for you, and most amusing for me."

In no scene is Freeman's knack for playing Bilbo more evident than the Dwarves' infiltration of his lovely, quiet Hobbit hole. While I can't say that this scene is as perfect as the one before, or as effective as the prologue, it is only because it doesn't pack as much of a punch as either of these; it is still an entertaining scene. Bilbo's confusion as a foil to the Dwarves' forthrightness and his frustration at their pilfering of his pantry (while Gandalf is enjoying every second of it) are a joy to watch unfold. Even the integration of the dish-washing song is handled smoothly, short and sweet as it is. The fun is cut short by the arrival of Thorin Oakenshield and all of a sudden the mood is serious. Richard Armitage does well at entering a room with an air of command, he immediately controls the scene with his presence, giving some necessary gravitas to the Dwarves and the movies. A gravitas that is cemented by the performance of 'The Misty Mountains', a song detailing the plight of the Dwarves of Erebor and the Company's desire to get their home back from Smaug, "We must away, ere break of day, to find our long forgotten gold."

The first forty minutes of this movie is very near perfect and the rest of the movie is highly enjoyable (with another glimpse or two of brilliance) - but there are some issues, too. As the company marches on a conversation comes up about the wizards of Middle Earth, "There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. And then there are the two Blue Wizards… You know, I've quite forgotten their names." This is a precursor to Radagast the Brown's presence in the movie and though he is given some respectability by Gandalf's backing of him, "I think he is a very great wizard", Radagast is often too goofy to fit in with the tone that Jackson has been trying to establish so far. Radagast's first scene, introducing the idea of the Necromancer, is just shy of too long. At this point we are settled into the movie and know who our characters are and adding another body to the mix is frustrating as it slows down the story they've worked so hard to invest us in. In any other situation, a character like Radagast would be one of my favourites but here his presence weakens the tone and he has little influence over the plot. It would have been enough for Gandalf to simply express his concerns to the White Council. As well as this, we are halfway through a three-hour movie and another thread is being added to the plot, adding weight to an already hefty movie.

Another issue that spikes up for me is Azog the Defiler. Since it always comes up anyway, let's get it over with now: yes, the CGI Orcs are heartless and they should have used prosthetics - especially remembering such beloved characters as Lurtz and this fucker.

(This fucker.)

My issue with Azog, however, is not the CGI but the fact that he takes up so much screentime. I have no problem checking in with the bad guys (I think this is done well with Gandalf and the Necromancer in the next two movies), but so many of the Orcs' scenes involve hunting the Dwarves that these moments swiftly become repetitive. How many times do we need to see a scout report to Azog that the Dwarves are nearby? (How many, Peter?) Also, we have spent so much time with Azog that it's easy to forget that it's supposed to be a surprise to Thorin that he's still alive, so this element is lost on us when they finally face off at the end of the movie. I wouldn't think of this as a minor transgression considering how important Thorin's beef with Azog is later on in the trilogy, but it doesn't lessen the merit of An Unexpected Journey as much as it does the next two films. The film is strong in so many other areas that Azog and his roving band of Orcs are more of a nuisance than anything else and the scenes that show them following the Company are an unneeded extra ten or fifteen minutes.

After battling trolls in a neat action sequence, the Company are found and chased by Orcs. In their confusion and haste to escape, the Dwarves are led by Gandalf to the Hidden Pass, which brings them to another site we're familiar with: Rivendell. Introduced in a beautiful wide shot and Bilbo's awed expression, the otherworldliness of Rivendell and the Elves is captured beautifully in its set design, along with the waterfall where Elrond reads the Moon Runes and the outlook where Gandalf meets Galadriel. This portion of the movie is then divided between Thorin receiving information for the quest and the White Council questioning Gandalf. "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth." As soon as he's alone with Elrond, Gandalf reveals the true nature of the quest, expecting an argument, but Elrond gently tells him, "It's not me you must answer to." With a few lines and knowing smiles, the script did well to establish a friendly history between Gandalf and Elrond, but through looks and gestures alone, the history between Gandalf and Galadriel is positively palpable. The love in Gandalf's face when he sees Galadriel for the first time is magical (the dread in his face when Saruman appears straight after is hilarious). "In the late summer of that year…Gandalf had at last prevailed upon Saruman and the White Council to attack Dol Guldur…" Developing on the White Council was such a great move for this trilogy and another way to bring back familiar characters without force or farce. It also helps that each of the four actors are a powerhouse in their own right and when together, make absolute magic. In this first scene, Gandalf expresses his worry over the sway Smaug would provide Sauron's army should the Dark Lord return. While Saruman dismisses his concern and his trust in Radagast, Galadriel uncovers the evidence Gandalf has been keeping hidden so far - the blade of the Witch King of Angmar that had been buried with his body, "in a tomb so dark it would never come to light." She and Elrond begin to show real fear, but Saruman is still not convinced and turns the conversation back to the Dwarves to distract from the subject. But it's a double cross! because Gandalf has been distracting him while the Dwarves leave Rivendell in secret. Despite the serious nature of the discussion, this scene is great fun to watch. The dynamic between the four characters and actors is astounding, it adds to the history of the world while nodding to events to come, and it's somehow one of the funniest scenes in the movie. From Gandalf's face when Saruman shows up and any time he speaks after that, via Galadriel tele-conferencing with him while Saruman is speaking, to her amusement at the Dwarves' early flight from Rivendell, you can really tell that these people have been keeping the peace in Middle-Earth for the last 400 years.

I keep bringing up history, but it's so well captured in these scenes and at it's absolute finest in the later moment between Gandalf and Galdriel. This scene is so short and perfect that all I need to do is let it speak for itself: "Mithrandir? Why the Halfling?" "I do not know. Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I've found it is in the small things - everyday deeds of ordinary folk - that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage." "Do not be afraid, Mithrandir, you are not alone."

Soon after this scene, the Company is captured by goblins and brought before the Goblin King. The goblins in this scene are all suitably disgusting (which is great) but I do wish they were more practical as it's hard to believe the Dwarf actors are really interacting with anybody particularly when they're being pushed around and Thorin speaks with the King. I also find the Goblin King himself far too cartoonish in his design and the actor's performance for the tone of the movie. Intercut with the riddle game, the goblin scenes are stretched far too long; the action sequence, though entertaining, lacks any tension, but I do like the journey through the Goblin Kingdom we get as a result for its inventive set design. These scenes are really only meant to check in with the Dwarves; our real interest lies with Bilbo, Gollum and the Riddle Game, a scene that couldn't be improved upon if they tried. Like the scene earlier on between Galadriel and Gandalf, this is one I have so many thoughts on that I don't quite know where to begin, so, instead, I'm going to sift through it moment by moment and try to pinpoint exactly what makes it such a beautiful, effective piece (spoiler alert: it's Andy Serkis).

From the very beginning this scene is rife with tension because we already know who Gollum is and, if you didn't know, you are introduced to him killing and dragging away the goblin that attacked Bilbo and fell down the chasm with him. I love the close-up shot of Martin Freeman's face as he wakes up and the overhead shot of him hiding in the mushrooms as Gollum smashes the head of his victim, showing us just how close to danger he is in. As Bilbo spots the Ring falling out of Gollum's pocket, an effect is repeated that we first heard in Fellowship of the Ring: as it bounces to the ground the sound effect suggests a much heavier item than a simple golden band. There are a mountain of small details added in the make-up, like the scraped, bleeding, peeling skin of Bilbo's knuckles, the gnarly, hairy goblin skin, and a reddish, scabby wound on Gollum's head. There are lots of great shots as Bilbo finds Gollum's cavern by following the sound of his fishing song - as he peers over the rock and watches Gollum eat the goblin, Gollum noticing a disturbance, and Bilbo realising that he has been found.

"Bless us and splash us, Precious! What is it?" The acting ability Andy Serkis displays as Gollum/Sméagol is nothing short of monumental. The utterly tragic figure that Sméagol cuts is on display more than it is in Lord of the Rings where he is far more nefarious. Even though Sméagol has been long corrupted by the Ring and wants to eat Bilbo as much as Gollum does, there is something strangely innocent about his curiosity for Bilbo and his desire to interact and "play" a game with him. "Yes, yes, just us." Sméagol says this conspiratorially, while looking around him, as if there would be anyone else there but he and Bilbo. The dichotomy between Gollum and Sméagol in this sequence is brilliantly depicted, and what makes it even more fascinating is how Bilbo plays off of it. After first bringing up the idea of a game of riddles Gollum orders Sméagol to stop and "finish him" so to keep himself alive Bilbo coddles the softer side of the two. "I can see you are very good at this." In these two moments (the first mention of a game and Bilbo's compliment) Sméagol expresses sincere joy that Gollum immediately shuts down, but, when Bilbo agrees to the game Sméagol's desire to play wins out and Gollum loses control. This battle continues on throughout the scene with Sméagol posing and answering some questions and Gollum others; at one point when Bilbo is having trouble with a riddle, Gollum's sneer turns to delight as Sméagol cries out that he knows the answer, "Oh, oh, we knows, we knows - Shut up!" The Sméagol side of the character is almost child-like in his eagerness to play with Bilbo, "Does it like games? Does it? Does it? Does it like to play?" which really hammers home the tragedy of the Ring's corruption and what could have happened to Bilbo and Frodo. While Sméagol in Lord of the Rings is also aware of Gollum, after banishing that part of himself he is still focused on serving the Ring and the Ring's master, Frodo. Here, Sméagol is just relishing in the interaction with another person and when he is in charge even alludes to his past, recalling how his grandmother taught him to suck eggs. The fact that Bilbo can see these two conflicting personalities contributes to his decision later on not to kill Sméagol/Gollum. Though he wasn't aware of the Ring's power, he can see by the sorrow in Sméagol's face (when he believes that he has lost Bilbo and the Ring) that this creature has nothing. "Is it tasty? Is it scruuuuuuumpiouuuuuuuuusss?" While both actors really shine in this scene, Andy Serkis' performance is transcendent. This sequence is strange as it is so seperate from the rest of the plot; Bilbo is on his own with this creature who has been isolated from the world for so long that when he has to think of what someone might keep in their pockets, lists "fish bones, goblin's teeth, white shells, bats wings" before string. He never mentions his encounter to any of the other characters and no one other than Gandalf suspects that anything notable happened to him; often moments and lines from one movie are re-called by characters in another one but the riddle game is never referred to again, even Bilbo's use of the Ring is private, but the riddle game is so important to both events in Middle-Earth and Bilbo's future. In Fellowship of the Ring Gandalf tells Frodo, "My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many." Bilbo's pity for Sméagol has a rippling effect on the fate of the Ring and the act fortifies in him an ability not to be ruled by its power - greed, fear and jealousy - as will affect those around him later on. Bilbo's long life with the Ring, his ability to give it away (with struggle admittedly) for the better of everyone starts here, in the manner he acquired it.

After being hunted by the Orcs, the Company is forced into one last stand-off before being rescued by the Eagles. The confrontation is fine; the fire-pine cones are a bit silly but I always love a nod to Hobbits being good at throwing things. I almost had a problem with Thorin's impulsive decision to attack Azog while the rest of the Company was literally hanging on for their lives, but I appreciate, in the grand scheme of things, that it shows the desperate and obsessive side of Thorin that will become more emphasised as the films progress. That these two characters' obsession with each other is what kills them in the end touches on the cautionary tale underpinning Tolkien's works (that Bilbo avoids, that kills Gollum, that overwhelms Frodo at the very end) - the destructive nature of greed. While Thorin gives in to this througout the trilogy, Bilbo is there to save him from it. The film ends with the Company having been rescued from the Orcs, and Thorin, specifically, having been saved by Bilbo. However, after being woken up by Gandalf Thorin turns on him, admonishing, again, his presence on the quest, "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?", then turns it around on him, "I have never been more wrong in all my life," he says, pulling Bilbo in for a hug. I find Thorin's dislike for Bilbo throughout this movie intriguing because, until the end, it is so relentless. By the goblin scenes at latest every other Dwarf has come around and, at the very least, cares about his well-being; Bofur, who catches him trying to leave, wishes him well and Balin patiently explains their history to him. Thorin takes every opportunity he can to resent the Hobbit. Ostensibly, he doesn't like Bilbo because, as he admits in their first interaction, he can't fight, "Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," which means, on the road, he can't take care of himself and displays a Hobbit-like lack of responsibility on the quest. Since the Dwarves' loss of their home, Thorin, as their prince, has had to take care of an entire population, while comparatively Bilbo has led a care-free lifestyle. By launching himself at Azog, for the first time Thorin sees Bilbo as willing as everyone else to risk his life (Thorin doesn't see Bilbo trying to get the ponies back from the Trolls, he only sees him being caught and getting the rest of them captured, too). It's no surprise that from this point forward, coinciding with more opportunites for Bilbo to prove himself useful on the quest in his own way, Thorin treats him as an equal.

In their new found friendship, Thorin and Bilbo, with Gandalf and the Company at their backs, gaze out across the world at the sight of Erebor in the distance. A thrush flies by in that direction which Glóin takes as a sign of the birds returning to the mountain. "We'll take it as a sign, a good omen," Thorin says, smiling at Bilbo then out across the landscape. "You're right," Bilbo responds, "I do believe the worst is behind us."

It wasn't.

The film ends following the same thrush as it flies towards the Lonely Mountain, picks up a snail and starts cracking it against a rock. The noise travels through the mountain and wakes the dragon Smaug leaving us with the image of his eye opening and the sound of a deep belly growl; a cracker of a cliff-hanger setting us up neatly for the next adventure.

I often felt while writing this essay that I was looking for things to complain about. An Unexpected Journey is a great execution of a text that is lighter in tone to The Lord of the Rings that grounds itself in its main characters and the story's role in the history of Middle-Earth. The visual effects and sets are phenomenal and a rich development in the world's aesthetic and, if I haven't said it enough already, the acting all around is fantastic. It deserves to be viewed with the same love and admiration as the original trilogy and features many scenes that could be ranked among the best across all six films.

[gracesshelves]

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)

            The first time I watched anything related to The Lord of the Rings was last year when my friend made me watch the extended editions of the first three movies, so I was glad that I had some context while coming into The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012). However, I have not read any of the books, which I think made it harder to watch this movie in particular. I would rate this movie a two out of five, which is the lowest rating I’ve given in class so far. One of the most important things when consuming media is the ability to keep my focus. I’ve watched some really poorly made movies, but they kept my attention throughout the whole thing, something I cannot say for this movie. I sat and watched this whole thing and I cannot remember half of what happened because it dragged on for so long. Connecting to our discussion this week on the dangers of alienating potential fans through adaptation, I do think this movie kind of does this. If I’d read The Hobbit before, I would’ve been more invested, but since I had no context of where this was going, it was very hard to pay attention.

            This movie follows Bilbo Baggins sixty years before the events of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Despite his adventure-filled youth, Bilbo mellowed into adulthood and thought he was content to live the life of a simple hobbit. However, this illusion is shattered when Gandalf the Grey invites a bunch of dwarves to his house for dinner in an attempt to convince Bilbo to join their quest. Their goal is to reclaim the Kingdom of Erebor, which was captured by the dragon Smaug 171 years ago. Despite some pushback, Bilbo eventually agrees to join their group. In this film, we follow them on the first leg of their quest. Honestly, I think Martin Freeman was the perfect choice for this role. He’s kind of developed a type cast as the cautious, reluctant, sarcastic protagonist/sidekick, but he plays it so well. His personality got me through the lulls of action during this movie.

            I promise I have some nice things to say! I really enjoyed the whole Rivendell scene because I got to see some characters I actually knew. I also think it did a nice job of establishing Gandalf's philosophy, which makes his choices of protagonists make so much more sense. My favorite scene in the whole movie was, of course, the scene with Gollum. This section had the most tension and highest stakes of the film, in my opinion. I was folding clothes while watching the majority of the movie, but I had to stop what I was doing during this part because I was so invested. Andy Serkis does an amazing job of making Gollum creepy, yet sympathetic. His performance always draws me in, and I think the movie would have suffered without the inclusion of this scene.

This week I don’t particularly have any comments on themes, because I have a hard time recalling what the plot was in general besides getting from point A to point B, but I did appreciate Gandalf’s whole speech about why he picked Bilbo specifically. He says: “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love” (The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey 2012). I think that is what stuck with me the most walking away from this movie. Will I finish the franchise? Probably not. I have a lot of diehard LOTR fans as friends, and they loathe this trilogy so I don’t feel the need to watch it, but I might consider reading the source material. Unfortunately, the studios kind of shot themselves in the foot with this one. I would’ve had the patience to sit through a four-hour-long movie if it covered the whole book. Making a trilogy out of a book that is shorter than any of the The Lord of the Rings books was not the best idea.

[bogbiter]

League Concept: Flying Wyverns (ft. THROGG?!?!)

Hello beasties! Remember that guy I was rewriting? This man started in the same train of thought as Kyridon. Actually he was the OG. And he was admittedly not as cool. Or lore wise, thought out. He was PURELY designed for being a monster champ with a brawler kit.

And boy he has grown in concept since the start of 2021.

Let me tell you about a troll. His name is Throgg

Throgg from Warhammer Fantasy is one of the most intelligent individuals in the Old World. And most definitely the most intelligent troll period. While his original appearance did not paint him as especially bright, if just exceptionally competent in tactics. Yet The Kinslayer and End Times saga painted him a far more intelligent force. Like, he was Warhammer Fantasy's take on Smaug, having such a Shakespearean flair that one did not expect from some senior aged troll.

milkandcookiesTW does an exceptional video on the dude, and I do recommend reading Kinslayer as they not only make him the big bad, but also just because Felix and Gotrek books are just swag.

What does this do with our boy here? Well, the story below details that juxtaposition between pure predator and architect of the future of an entire species. Also yes we're revisiting the Freljord again fuckers because the Northern Lands of Ice and Frost need more things to kill you.

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In the Frozen lands, there lies the ancestral site of the Laitivern, the original Rulers of the Sky. For Generations, hundreds of  these wyvern clans would roost within the massive elder volcano of Wyrms Furnace, their kin dominating the skyline. And at one point they were not just limited to the Freljord either, for they had in older days conquered the world. They were cunning, and recognized that in a world of great beasts, numbers overwhelming lead to victory. They existed alongside Man, Troll, Minotaur, and Vastaya, but they were not on equal terms. They raided Man and Minotaur, competed with Troll, and preyed upon Vastaya. Their namesake became synonymous with dragons, for a flock of wandering Laitiverns could very easily overwhelm a territory and strip it of livestock and soldiers. 

The Rune Wars changed this dynamic however, for the sorcery unfolded onto the world would scar the lands they called home. Magibeast once dormant before days of creation rose up, and tempered the land in strange horrific ways. Magic radiated into new and terrifying plagues, and for as clever as the The Laitivern were, they did not know how to combat these new threats. But the other races did, and though they too had an uphill battle, they gained a footing when the Laitiverns themselves could not. They disappeared from most of the world, and those who resided in the Freljord soon found that Man and Troll had grown stronger. Now their meals were stolen away, or their hunting flocks ambushed and feasted upon. Some of these terrible magic plagues tore into scales like scalding iron, and left them too weak to fly. And those who could not fly, they starved. Many clans were razed in this era, and the Laitivern went into hiding, less they attracted the unwanted attention of Dragon Hunters and Slayers.

Those around the Freljord could sometimes go weeks without a successful kill. And as the magibeast roamed the land, and the shamans spread themselves out far and wide, those at Wyrm's Furnace had an idea to feed on them instead. The flesh of Balestag or Frost Casting Yeti could suffice a flock for much longer than a typical boar or cave bear. These hunts were not… always successful… but those who came back proved themselves the most capable and cunning of their flock, and were awarded the title of Mach'dala, or "Soul Downer''.

To their surprise, the young that ate upon the sweet meat of these corrupted creatures seemed to grow a powerful resistance to crippling frost magic, or bolts of channeled fire. Seeing positive effects of their more daring hunts, the tradition carried on, and slowly did their magical potency grow as those same hatchlings would then grow up into Mach'dala themselves. Near the modern age, as Noxus crashed the gates of holds in the east of the Freljord, some Laitiverns could deflect the magic, and those that had hunted shamans could now bring their own runic powers to the hunt. But they had also harnessed in this time the "Styg '', or "Wrath". The ability to breathe a clouded emission black as storm clouds and rolling with red thunder,  that could direct at prey and foe alike. The Laitivern became known as Galdrveiðrormr, or as the Mage Hunter Wyverns. And those of Wyrm's Furnace grew bold, and even with Anivia in the skies… they claimed the heavens as their domain.

Wyrm's Furnace however was full of more Laitiverns than the Mach'dala. There were the Oldsouls who guided the roost and healed its soldiers, the Foragers who gathered supplies for nesting and firemaking, the Bouncers who protected the roost, and the Carvers, who carved out rock for them to build more nests and roosts. An apt home for hatchling, with many careers to seek. Among a clutch of eggs that belonged to a esteemed Carver and Mach'dala, was Veyolkos. 

It was very clear after he hatched he was born a gifted hatchling, with his scales sharpening very early on, and learning to glide within a month of hatching. But this caused the problem where he was a bit too curious. Curiosity in the Freljord for even humans and Yordles has to be tempered, otherwise death would be the answer to the inquiry. So they kept him near the Oldsouls, who had no qualm with watching a hatchling. Except Veyolkos the moment he learned to speak, had too many questions. He asked why they collected spears, and was told they were warrior's trophies. When he asked if he could make a spear, the elders were dumbfounded, and had no idea if they could. Humans seemed to make them with ease, but they were so thin the Laitivern's saw them as an inconvenience. What use was a weapon if you were already so dangerous unarmed. He didn't like the answer, and attempted to make such spears. And then axes. And then disastrously, a bow. After a few days and a few more missing scales and bruises from the Laitivern Chick's attempted craftsmanship, they relieved Veyolkos of their watch, the Oldsouls growing tired of his boundless energy and always fidgeting talons resulting in injuries around the roost. 

This was unseemly, as chicks could easily get lost or snatched up by an Azurite Eagle. But a few experienced foragers agreed, for his mother couldn't take him as she hunted far more dangerous beasts, and his father worked near falling stone for a living. Taking him under their wing, they showed them the shells they used to forage water, and the branches they searched for that carried the healing ingredients needed for the Oldsouls to use. They showed him flint, and chunks of metal along the cliff faces that helped start flame. And this, seemed to get him wondering if the wood they harvested for the fires couldn't be used to make something else. Especially seeing how easily the wind could snatch their cache from their talons. So he took to some branches, and as the veterans foraged, attempted to make a basket. He had never seen a basket, but he figured something that could hold multiple supplies at a time they could carry in their jaws and talons, was far easier. And to his chagrin, after six fell apart, the seventh carried back 3 shells of water and a bundle of medicinal batteries. The Veterans were curious about the little thing, and asked the young hatchling how it was made. And Veyolkos was more than happy to show.

As he grew into a Yearling, he would continue as a forager. Though he would not lie, he wasn't particularly fond of just being a forager. Yes he made baskets for collecting, but he also wanted to make more with the sticks, bones, and stones at his disposal. So he made for larger baskets yes, and sleds to make transporting caches easier, but he also took to equipping himself with armor. Most notably, taking the hides of kills and tanning them to make leather. To make into stripes. And to create spears around his face and shoulders, as to create a formidable defense as he and other foragers would descend into the valley to steal from the Freljord's wolves and bears. Veyolkos despite his size would always attempt to lead the attack, for though he was similar in size to the bears he believed his craftsmanship would stand the test against them. And the first couple attempts did not. But he learned to treat the wood with flame, and sharpen the bone instead of just relying on its broken pieces. And soon his body was among the veterans as they reaped hard earned scraps, as he tore into their furred hides with sharpened blades and claws, bringing back extra to be eaten, and additionally bringing him more materials to work with. 

Though the Bouncers found his designs to be… the work of a fledgling that had yet to realize his true strength, the Foragers were more than happy to use his new equipment. Veyolkos at first believed he could create a new career, here in Wyrm's Furnace. As much as he enjoyed gathering, he couldn't help but feel it would be wasted potential. While others saw shapes and landmarks, he saw patterns. Patterns that could be manipulated and made into something new. For his siblings he created shields of bone and hide, to protect their sides once they were applied. When they went off to hunt, they wouldn't be as scathed by a predator's blows, but they did return with the armor mangled and torn. Which only incentivised him to cure leather and toughen the hide at his disposal.

But at two years of age, all his planning and testing was interrupted by his mother. His mother saw his tinkering not as the work of a brilliant mind or an opportunistic artist, but a soul yearning for conflict. Wolves and Elk wouldn't cut it, no, he'd need bigger prey. She told him that since he could fly with expertise now, that he must return home with magically gifted prey. Veyolkos was mortified at first, for he had heard his mother's stories of those beasts beyond in the Old Pines and Evergrowth. But before he went out, he asked her to let him prepare for it. She accepted, and for 2 months he fastened himself a suit of leather, bone, and took from an abandoned den, a worn out and torn chest piece of steel to make as a helm. And so he went out on his hunt, soaring through the skies in ragged armor. There amidst stormy skies he scoured, the pelts of his armor keeping him protected from the bite of winter's wind. 

The storm he flew into made it so visibility was low, but amidst the flurry he caught sight of a fire deep in a cave. He perched outside of it, resting atop the mouth of the cave, as he let himself lay low and hid beneath the white blanket of the precipitation. There he saw a lone man, decorated in bear furs moving back to the cave, unaware of the danger lurking above his own refuge. He had heard of Shamanic Werebears, and wondered if though not the largest kill to make, if it would draw the praise of his roost. This was his first magibeast to down, not fed to him in shreds from the mouth of an elder or his mother.As soon as the shaman passed under the roof of the cave Veyolkos shot forward like a panther leaping towards a bird in flight. His body contorted, facing the man as the man instinctively entered his Ursine state. The two collided, bouncing into the cave as both tried to land their jaws on the throat of the other. But Veyolkos’s face spears became too difficult to navigate around, and so the Ursine departed, bleeding from his chest and arms, and tried to find a new way to attack this armored Laitivern. Veyolkos would look around, to find that indeed, Laitivern scales were used in the making of spears and axes. He snapped his jaws as the Ursine tried to rush for his flank, only to pull away, revealing that hidden along their neck was the teeth of bear, wolf, raptor… Laitivern. This Shaman most likely had experience, and knowing killing a slayer like him could prove dangerous to his people, he immediately went to flee, only to feel the Ursine crash into him and knock him over, immediately trying to go for his chest, yet seemed somewhat stunned when his claws only struck hide and stone. Which he had still torn apart, but had not reached the vitals of the Laitivern. Taking advantage of the situation, Veyolkos slapped the Ursine onto its back, and flipping himself up with cat-like agility. He plunged his head spears into the Ursine Man’s side and continued the fight, as the bear man clawed away at his face only for Veyolkos to plunge his spears deeper into the shaman. The struggle was long and brutal, Veyolkos withdrawing only after the Ursine stopped swiping away with their claws. His own face was a bloody mess, but beyond the blood flowing down his eyes, he was able to see the man’s bag. Torn up during their brawl, he noticed its contents included a long scroll, made from the skin of a seal. He nabbed it and the man’s body, flying off with his catch.

He returned to his mother and the elders, presenting his kill as he panted, before showing off his armor. He harshly dropped the shaman before their feet, before ripping a chunk out of the Ursine’s flesh, harshly gulping down the pelt and viscera. He couldn't hear anything they said, but he assumed he had pleased them. He climbed to the top of the Qyrm's Furnace, and took to studying the runes engraved onto the pelt, occupied only by the howl of the wind.

----

            Laitivern mature rapidly at a young age, then it slowly peters out once they reach twelve years of age. As sub-adults they are not yet old enough to court or start their own clutch, but they can hunt amongst one another with some independence. Veyolkos had decided to flip flop between the Forager groups and Mach'dala. Amongst his siblings he was an alien, they adhered to the ways of old. And so he was most regarded not as a pack mate, but a tag-along. And so on their hunts he'd disappear for a time, since they wanted nothing to do with his inventions. But that was fine for Veyolkos. He'd begun smiting since he was seven, and had outfitted his talons with claws befitting a king. Silver he had learned, had some properties that could protect him from the surge of energy his prey usually outputted. Mystical stags he'd search for, not awake. For their speed was so frighteningly swift he could never keep up. When he found such prey he'd make sure they were sleeping. Sometimes he'd silently move in and pin the magibeast down, eating them alive. Other times he just found it easier to grab a large chunk of ice or a boulder to drop on them and concuss them. Before taking his talons to their throat. Should he find the campsites of hunters, he'd make sure none were around before taking any armor or artifacts they possessed as novelties to research. Most treasured to him was literature,for even power fantasies where the author obviously transposed himself into his work he found utterly fascinating. His favorite thing to catch he had created a pulley system just to harpoon the beast: The Frost Serpent. He had found their hide was too sharp and smooth to gain purchase with talons, and they moved so quickly that it would be a miracle to catch their giant eyes to rangle the beast. So Veyolkos had learned to harpoon them as soon as possible, and cranking the pulley could effectively keep one in place and slowly drag it to be butchered. His siblings called it cheating and barbaric. He called it an opportunity, for their sharp scales and fangs made for excellent blades and armor scaling.

         Among his foraging kin he'd fashion them nets, should everyone be feeling more in the need for fish and seal. And he'd create great traps to capture Elnüks. The Foragers also noted how he often searched for herbs when they were available, and whatever food they had he would use them on the meat. At first they found it strange to add greens to their carrion, but when cooked, or he put it in a stone pot he had made and boiled them together, opinions changed quickly. He was always fast on the wing, and that made him exceptionally good at catching the more mundane prey.  And they knew for a fact he would hunt the yetis that marched around their territory, plucking them straight from the sky only to drop them to the earth, like an eagle does with a tortoise. 

          Though his most macabre behavior of butchery. Impaling his prey to the trees and their branches, so that he could take his claws and remove their hides, and cut their flanks. He had made a basket specifically for this act, and he'd return with the cut pieces and prepare it for whoever was willing to eat from his kills. Sometimes he'd return with the helm of a Frostguard, other times the necklace of the Ursine, and rarely the weapons of the Winter's Claw.  To the Laitivern he was still Veyolkos, but he had heard himself spoken about in times where he lurked in the shadows outside of man's fire glow… as The Windrazor. Veyolkos appreciated the name, and on his 14th year decided that his title should be just that: The Windrazor.

Naturally though as tensions rised in the Freljord, with the coming of the Dominion and the Walled Settlements of the Avarosans, hunts were now far more stressful. Especially now that Wyrm's Furnace was repeatedly being raided by Tribal Yordle, Trolls, and Slayers of The Winter's Claw. To kill a Laitiverns had always been a statement to one's hunting prowess, but their sharp scales and strong hide made for excellent armor and weapon crafting. The Bouncers were strong folk, but they were being overrun. As some bouncers fell after raid after raid, and The Mach'dala themselves would fall,  Veyolkos stopped his hunts, and stayed behind to watch over his kin's ancestral site, ready to prove himself capable of protecting their roost. He took to what resources he had, and through convincing, equipped the remaining Bouncers In Armor, protecting their faces and chest, yet still allowing them to shoot their scales out at the enemy. He asked upon the Carvers to find fine stone deep within Wyrm's Furnace, and bring it to him. There he'd teach them, including his own father, to make blades for the tails of The Bouncers, and these blue, steel-shining great blades were so refined in quality that they could take down scores of men, and even without their cutting edge the weight alone could crush a troll's skull. 

He rallied the foragers and equipped them in shields that protected their flanks, and branded their heads with metal spears and their chest with plates made of thick hides and stone. They would go out there to scout first the whereabouts of these hunters, using the cover of night and thunderstorm to determine exactly how these raiders planned to take them. Mach’dala and Bouncers occupied any forces coming from their east and north, while they determined the best possible way to strike. Veyolkos also searched out the Vellox tribes that wandered near their territory, and communed with Yetis. He raised to them teh cruelty they had been experiencing, and how together, they could not only protect Wyrm’s Furnace, but all those in the freljord. He was no longer just trying to protect the Laitiverns, he was amassing an army to do so. He asked his siblings and mother to aid him in such encounters, and at first confused and just going along, they had not the slightest idea why? Only to see Vellox cowering and Yetis lowering their ice clubs in their presence, as Veyolkos spoke with haunting authority, though the other Mach’dala could not discern what he was saying. They would bow to each other, and then the non-laitiverns would leave. Only for Veyolkos to tell them each time:

“Numbers make us look professional. A mad Laitivern rambling does not hold the same power unless occupied by his kin. Especially if he speaks their tongue.”

He would soon talk with the Oldsouls his next set of plans, to continue teaching the carvers how to sculpt armor, and to carve out more dens for the new alliances.. The Oldsouls at first seemed offended by the preposition. They lambasted him for getting distracted. He had always needlessly complicated everything with redundancy and risks. At first Veyolkos let them ramble on, insulting his plans and his reliance on historical enemies, and his cruel affection towards melting metal to crudely reshape it. He then snickered after they had their say, and wandered back to his den. But not without departing to them some words, his tone callous,

“I was not asking for permission, I was letting you know.”

Continuously during their scouting, Veyolkos would plunge deeper past their territories to find covens in the moonlight, gliding silently to learn of their language, and their magics. For his many years with the scroll of his first kill, it had yet to dawn on him what it could mean. But as he had gotten older, he had gotten wiser, and more keen to meaning and interpretation. And understanding the magics their enemies often used was part of the battle. Know the enemy, more than they know you. And as he grew to understand the runic languages, he’d return back to the roost. He would make sure armor was being made, weapons being carved, food being prepared and stored. He’d have the foragers learn to create new tonics and wrappings to aid the bouncers, and then he’d retreat to his den. Only to take the scroll out and reach the highest peak to study the writing. The humans were obsessed with things beyond them. They shared that, and yet as he came to rehearse the incantations, he understood the nature of the scrolls. To shape into something else. To shape into another form of beast. He held in this information, and seeing what needed to be done, he tucked it away into his den. And prepared for conflict. Afterall, blood was to be spilled.

----

It turned out a large group of mercenaries, slayers, and soldiers of the Winter’s Claw had made their trek to Wyrm’s Furnace to finally get the materials needed for their employers or clan. War is, in part, a business, and buyers have strict schedules and due dates. As they ventured towards Wyrm’s Furnace, they noted how quiet it was. The Freljord could be isolating and haunting, but even here the wind seemed only distant. And as they reached the edge of the treeline heading towards the clearing, four of them took a step too far to the right, and were suddenly plunged straight into the earth. Looking down at their comrades, all they found was the four impaled on spikes of carved cedar, bleeding out as they stared down at the bottom of the pit. As if on cue, bolts were fired at the encroaching band of hunters and mercenaries. Many mages put up barriers for them and their crew as they ran past the treeline, shields raised for those who did not have arcane energies protecting them. But the bolts had come high from the peaks, before a new wave set upon the encroaching men. These bolts were massive, more akin to ballista as they descended down, taking a seventeen more of the hunters, limiting their numbers. As they saw no Laitivern in the sky, many shouted for their fellow man to take cover, as they rushed for the massive jutting stones that surrounded the mountain. Many took bows or muskets and fired up where the shots were coming from, hoping to score some blows.

Then they heard something coming from where the Laitiverns roosted. An eerie, discordant hymn, and it felt like those at the base of the mountain were no longer alone. They all felt it: something has gone deeply and irreversibly wrong… and they needed to start running. As soon as they were going to reposition, they heard screeching as a great pack of raptors descended upon them. With the beasts’ strong back legs and jagged bills, a few more mercs fell before the raptors were ignited by the magics of the mage or the molten lead of muskets. And yet the raptors stayed firm, dragging people out into the opening clearing. Some of those people dragged out were able to down the beast with spears and axes, and as soon as they stood up to seek cover, they were pelted with boulders. Attacking the hunters now were Yetis, roaring and beating their chest as they grabbed clubs and warpaddles before charging in. Some of them, the smaller white haired primates, fell, but the elders stayed strong and crashed into their flank. 

Retreating up, they soon were beset upon by Vellox, whose snow leopard print helped them camouflage into the mountain, as their human faces suddenly bared saber fangs as robust monstrous winged arms threw them towards the hunters, tussling with them as they scrapped on the steps of the Laitivern’s roosting site. Weapons striked against flesh with the same ferocity of claws and fangs sundering armor. The Vellox had ways to avoid a direct engagement, with some departing to blow onto their foes winter’s cold embrace, freezing them in place. Yet still Vellox would fall, but as they did the Raptors and Yetis charged from behind, hoping to take the hunter’s down with them if they could. And the hymn above became not some eerie whisper, but a chaotic cacophony being blown through the horn of a ram. Before a Vellox would climb onto a rock and chant, and as she began her most terrifying dirge, the roost erupted with the sound of metal and flapping wings.

The chaos that ensued was swift and brutal, as the Laitiverns defended their ancestral site with an unmatched ferocity. The hunters and mercenaries found themselves vastly outnumbered and overwhelmed as descending onto the group like a horde of wasps were the Laitiverns they had come to hunt. Many bolted for the treeline, running as the Laitivern’s armor blocked their shots, and they threw themselves towards the mages, dragging them away as more of their kin flew ahead of the humans, claws lowering as they lifted the men into the heavens, tearing them apart as they took the remains back to the roost. The ground shook beneath the clashing forces, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle cries, roars, and the piercing screeches of the Laitiverns. Many of those from The Winter’s Claw stood their ground, and those slayers were able to counter the aerial dives of the Laitiverns. Yet they didn’t expect to suddenly be confronted by the heavily armored form of Laitivern Bouncers, Yetis, and Vellox barreling down the mountain towards them. Nor the synchronized volleys of scales being thrown at them. 

Veyolkos had expected a larger group, and though mildly disappointed at only two hundred something men, it made his job way easier. He soared through the sky, leading the foragers and his siblings in a coordinated attack. He darted through the air like a dark shadow, shedding his scales like a storm of glinting blades to lacerate and weaken their forces, before with the cold calculation and agility of a falcon in the dive to strike with deadly precision. And when he noted the flank they were striking was in disarray, he lunged for a sorceress clinging behind a rock for cover. He dived down again, tucking in his wings as he descended from a great height towards her. He angled himself to the side and spread out his wings, coasting down towards her with talons outstretched, seeing the hunter witch’s eyes widen as his talons enveloped her chest. As he nabbed her he flew towards the center of combat, letting loose a series of Styg projectiles onto the enemy to scatter their forces. It wouldn’t be long now till they either broke, or were devoured. So as he applied crushing pressure to her ribs within his grasp, he had to act quickly. He flew behind many a peak to hide his position, as he landed on his perch for which he had titled his study, harshly throwing her down.

He grabbed his scroll, and as he set the stone down on the edges of the scroll, she began to scream at him, of course. She had expected to hunt creatures a little above yetis in wit, not, whatever this armored beast was.

“What!? What the fuck are you planning?!”

He scoffed at her, making sure the seal skin scroll was secure as he turned to face her with a look of not pride nor indifference, but the look of a tiger caught stalking its quarry.

“The intellect I have can be gifted unto another. I refuse to see my society surrounded by witless animals.”

Now was her turn to scoff, as she leered at him with a mocking tone.

“Awwww… golden boy feels he’s wasted on chewing bones with the rest of his packmates-”

He slammed his bladed tail onto her with a sudden harshness, the woman hacking and wheezing as she felt her body crumple from the strike, as he approached her with way too much a casual stride, as he picked her up with his wing claws.

“Though river streams and hills grow steeper, man grows a little more shallow. What right do you have to try and belittle me, witless tool? You have come to slay, and now are to be slain. At least your death will merit some greater use!”

She squirmed in his hold, as he held her over the paper, the Laitivern chanting as she screamed for him to let go, a spell loading within her palm to smite the Laitivern. Veyolkos could see the runes begin to glow in her presence, and so he raised his other wing talon, aiming it at her neck, knowing to make it quick-

“I will give you the taste of the beast that you see in me!"

And in a sudden slicing movement she felt skin tear, then muscle, then a tingling warm pooling before her consciousness fled. And she coughed, though as her blood fell onto the scroll, and as it did she too began to fade, though slightly, as color fled from her skin and hair, her body a dull gray wash as the luminance from the pages poured into his chest. The new rush of energy was paralyzing at first, as he stumbled back, her form turning into mere ashes as they blew over his scales, branding his face in white stripes that ran down his nostril and under his eyes, branding some of the patterning in his wings. When he could finally move, he heard Yetis howling, Vellox roaring, and Laitivern’s trilling. He soon flew back to the scene below, as the many parties feasted on those who decided to experience a warrior's death. Veyolkos landed before them, breathing heavily from the exertion of the ritual. They seemed oblivious to what he had done, assuming him to have just been pursuing the marauders. 

To his surprise, the Oldsouls and the Elders approached The Windrazor, their demeanor now changed. They had witnessed the rewards of his planning, and wordlessly bowed to him. He was dumbstruck by the wordless praise he had received. One of respect. His mother and father, having been in the fight, showed their throat to him, the highest level of trust and respect a laitivern could receive. He began to fidget in place, before broadening out his wings, and roaring to the crown a decree. A promise.

“THIS! THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING! TO AN AGE OF BEASTS!”

For now he had the skills gained to understand his enemy… far more intimately than before.

Veyolkos Kit:

Passive-Volatile Coating: The more damage he takes from Epic Monsters, Dragons, or Enemy Champs, the more his energy bar is filled. Once filled Veyolkos can charge his next attacks with draconic energy with increased movement speed for 3 seconds

Q - Voltaic Lunge: Veyolkos lunges towards a targeted location, knocking back any enemy champion or minion he collides with. Upon impact, a searing energy mark is left on the target, dealing physical damage.

W - Thousand Blades: Veyolkos sheds part of his armor for a brief moment, sending shards flying outward in all directions. These shimmering shards damage any enemy champions and minions they hit.

E - Evasive Maneuvers: With lightning speed, Veyolkos rapidly dashes away while releasing Styg energy forward, dealing additional searing damage if performed up close. From a distance, the Styg inflicts minor physical damage.

Ultimate - Flight of The Razorwing: Veyolkos takes to the skies, gaining enhanced mobility. During this time, his abilities undergo changes:

Voltaic Lunge becomes Thunderous Grapple, allowing him to tackle and immobilize a single enemy champion.

Thousand Blades transform into Draconic Cleave, a 360-degree tail swipe that damages all nearby enemies.

Evasive Maneuvers evolves into Laitivern's Dive, granting Veyolkos an arching leap with a powerful energy blast upon landing.

----

Aighty so physically he's gone like over... several hundred iterations. What remains consistent is the general build of Seregios, from the sharp scales, wing walking, and face. While also incorporating the more panthurine movement and tail slams of Nargacuga.

He's also gone through like several hundred actual redesigns, and while he started as just that: A flying wyvern capable of speech, he did evolve more into an analog to Throgg. And while Trundle is a legitimate troll king and is pretty sick, he more or less serves as a modestly competent himbo in a alliance with Lissandra. Veyolkos fills the roll of a cunning beast going through great lengths to ensure he has the means to play his cards correctly. He likes to innovate, he likes to build, but most importantly he likes to share that knowledge to elevate his people. But he also understands the sinister nature of his action, and how it spawned partially from necessity, but mostly through curiosity.

His own desire to stake out his claim and plunge Runeterra into an era of beast speaks to as sense of him wanting to elevate his people, and a naivety to the danger of his ambitions.