#in sort of a gandalf esque moment

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Of Princes and Witches (Rewrite) Epilogue- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Barrowes

Description: N/A

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I'm surprised I was able to write like three or four more chapters for this rewrite, but I'm happy nonetheless. Also, for those who didn't like ROP I don't apologize for the Halbrand/Galadriel-esque plot twist in chapter 20 because I liked it for this fic, but hopefully you'll get over it. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this because I loved writing it!!

It had been just after noon when word finally gotten out: Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland realm was finally marrying his fiance Alphine Barrowes! Their courtship hadn’t really been a known thing amongst people as they courted while traveling around Middle Earth for a few years. Nevertheless, it was a huge event, everyone was talking about it even before the actual day was upon them. 

Naturally, being the son of a King, many people were invited, but the people that Legolas and Alphine made absolute sure of that would attend would be their friends from the Fellowship of the Ring. Gandalf, Gimli, Sam, Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Aragorn as well as the allies they made (such as Haldir, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir etc) were all invited to the joyous occasion. Every single one of them showed up, not wishing to miss the happiest day of their friend’s lives.

The wedding was held in the palace chapel of Mirkwood’s palace (unsurprisingly). The chapel was absolutely packed with beings of all races. Elves, Dwarves, mortal Men, Hobbits and Fairies all sat mingled amongst each other as they awaited the bride’s glorious entrance. King Thranduil and Legolas all stood at an altar at the front of the room waiting patiently, smiles on all of their faces. The Hobbits (plus Gimli), being so short, were given permission to sit up front so they could see.

Finally, the anticipated moment arrived. Music began playing from somewhere that the Hobbits’ couldn’t really pinpoint, and everyone stood up respectfully. Every guest in the room couldn’t help but gasp as the bride appeared. Alphine looked radiant, like some sort of angel sent to grace the peoples of Middle Earth. She looked so elegant as she began walking down the aisle that for a moment several guests thought that she was floating. Gandalf, being her oldest friend, was the one guiding her since her parents weren’t exactly in the picture. 

All eyes were on Alphine, but she only had eyes for Legolas. She couldn’t help but smile when she realized that the Prince had begun crying. It seemed that the sight of his bride alone had brought up enough motions that ultimately made tears form in his eyes. He turned away to rid his face of the tears silently slipping down his face, and once he turned back around there was an undeniably wide smile on his face and love in his eyes. It was a sweet moment that made several people coo at him, including Alphine internally. 

By the time she reached the altar Legolas was standing at the bottom of the steps waiting to lead her up. Alphine pressed a kiss to Gandalf’s cheek before taking Legolas’ hand, allowing him to lead her to the top of the altar, where Thranduil stood with a proud smile. 

The wedding procession went beautifully. Legolas and Alphine were standing at the altar hand in hand. They faced each other with the widest smile anyone had ever seen on either of their faces. It didn’t even seem like they were fully listening as Thranduil recited a speech over the two of them. 

“Legolas, do ci take Alphine, selyë o Cirrus Barrowes, nacca bestannen indis noin Iluvatar (Legolas, do you take Alphine, daughter of Cirrus Barrowes to be your wedded wife under the Iluvatar)?” Thranduil inquired, facing his son with a proud smile. The Prince couldn’t even begin to force down his smile as he nodded. 

“Inyё (I do),” he responded, not looking away from Alphine. 

“Alphine, do ci take Legolas, anon o Thranduil Opherion, nacca bestannen indis noin Iluvatar (Legolas, do you take Alphine, daughter of Cirrus Barrowes to be your wedded wife under the Iluvatar)?” The girl looked as if she was on the verge of tears. 

“Inyё (I do),” she answered with a nod. With their vows out of the way, all that was left was everyone eagerly anticipating and waiting for Legolas and Alphine’s first kiss as husband and wife. 

“Eithel, by I melehtё invested mi nin, nu I iluvatar, Im sin pronounce ci venno ar indis (Well, by the power invested within me, under the Iluvatar, I now pronounce you husband and wife),” he announced with a proud, bright smile before looking at Legolas. “Legolas, lye calainis miquëcca acairis (Legolas, you may kiss your bride).” 

The Prince wasted no time in pulling Alphine close to him and pressing a delicate kiss on her lips. Almost immediately, deafening cheers filled the chapel along with applause. Once they pulled away they just stared into each other’s eyes, even wider smiles on their faces before they finally looked at the guests.

When the official ceremony had ended, it was time for the guests to move to the ballroom for the reception. It had been gorgeously decorated, but yet again it wasn’t really a surprise considering this was an Elven Kingdom. After everyone found and sat in their designated seats, the feast began. Chatter and laughter was plentiful between eating and drinking only the best wine for the Prince’s wedding. 

The night went beautifully. It began with a speech from Legolas. He thanked everyone for attending such a joyous day before directing his attention to his new wife. He explained how before he met the Witch, his life seemed so unfulfilling, almost to the point of boring, which surprised several people (including the King). Then, he told the story of how they met, and how ever since he just couldn’t take his mind off of her. The thought made several people coo like they had during the bridal march.

Next came cake. Now, cake was not unusual in an Elf’s diet. In fact they were probably one of the most common ones, especially one of high status. What wasn’t as common in their culture were wedding cakes. It was a tradition that mortal Men had made up for special occasions (such as a wedding), one that Alphine had found quite endearing. Sure normal cakes were lovely, but just imagine a cake made specifically for a special occasion! The thought was absolutely delightful and intriguing to her, and so one of her (admittedly few) requests for the wedding was that they would have a special cake made for them. It wasn’t a difficult demand so it was done. 

The cake itself was absolutely gorgeous. Four layers of sweet and delicious vanilla cake topped with pure white icing that was mouth watering just to look at. Though it had been an odd tradition to Elves, there wasn’t a single person not applauding as the bride and groom cut into the cake together. Cake was passed out by the Mirkwood servants, but no one ate a bite until Legolas and Alphine fed each other a bite, as was apparently a key part of the tradition.

After dinner and dessert had been served, it was time to dance. The second demand Alphine had was another mortal tradition: a husband and bride’s first dance. The orchestra had been playing music in the background the entire time, but once King Thranduil announced that it was time for the dance, they paused and prepared to play the correct song. 

Everyone watched as Legolas stood, then helped Alphine up and led her to the center of the room. All eyes were on them, truly captivated as they began to dance to the music. It was a song Legolas requested be written specifically for the wedding, which made it even more special. The composers had not disappointed either. The song sounded almost ethereal, filled with gorgeous harp strums and melodic flutes with soft vocals to accompany them. 

The couple danced like they were always supposed to dance together, two separate partners meant to come together as one. Their eyes never strayed from each other, and the lovestruck looks never left their faces. The amount of love in their expressions made several people tear up. Everyone could tell just how in love they were with each other. They watched the couple, utterly entranced. Several guests even found themselves swaying along to the music, a smile on their faces. She just couldn’t help it though. It was hard not to watch the couple be so happy with each other. 

The reception felt like it lasted an eternity. The only way Alphine knew that it wasn’t was because the rest of the Fellowship was still there. It had been a very happy and successful day for both her and Legolas. They did get married, after all.

Now, the party had ended and everyone was either given a room for the night or they went home. Alphine followed Legolas to his room once they wished everyone a good night. Well, technically it was their room now, but it still felt a bit odd to say. Once the door closed behind them, they prepared to head to bed. Elves usually didn’t need to sleep, but today (and the days leading up to it) had been rather tiring. Besides, Legolas wanted to be with his wife on their wedding night, so he began changing into more comfortable clothes. 

After that was done he faced Alphine. She was still attempting to get all the clips and ribbons out of her hair, though it didn’t look like she’d gotten very far. A small, amused smile played at the Prince’s lips as he walked over to her. 

“Sit, meleth nin (my love),” he instructed gently, carefully moving her to sit at her new vanity. Once she was settled in he began untying the intricately braided ribbons out, being careful not to pull at her hair. A content sigh left her lips as he did so. She loved when he played with her hair. 

It unfortunately ended all too soon and before she realized it, Legolas had begun unlacing her wedding dress. She stood to make it easier for him, then stepped out of the elegant gown when it fell around her ankles. While Legolas picked it up and laid it over the vanity chair to be hung up tomorrow Alphine slipped on her nightgown. 

They climbed into bed in unison and immediately moved towards each other. Legolas’ arms went around Alphine as her head laid against his chest. She hadn’t realized just how tired she was until she was in bed. She was on the verge of falling asleep when she heard him speak. 

“Amin mela lle (I love you),” he whispered, eyes also falling closed. His words brought a smile to her face, and she cuddled in closer to him. 

“Amin mela lle.”

[shyvioletcat]

in a rowaelin tolkein au, how would you cast the characters? would you just genderbend everything? how much do you think you would have to shift lotr's plot to make tog characters work? would aelin/rowan be frodo/sam? (i saw that you love tolkein and was thinking about this and wondering if you had thought about it at all lmao)

I’m just going to start with this is one of the best asks I’ve ever received so thank you so much for sending it in. This is how I would do it.

Dorian and Chaol are Frodo and Sam. Like you see how that works right? They eventually go off on their own adventure to destroy Erawan’s wyrdgate. Dorian has a ring which is like the final key to get it to work. I kinda want Gollum’s parallel to be Manon... Because we’ve got that distrust from Chaol/Sam there and the otherness, and Manon would be like one of Erawan’s captains/wing leader like we get in the books. At some point Chaol gets hurt and they split again etc etc. We get the Tower of Dawn spin off and it’s Dorian and Manon that head to Morath/Mordor.

But I digress, this is was a Rowaelin story 😏.

Aelin is Aragorn. Lost throne, forgotten heir, self sacrificing, comes out of nowhere to help the ringbearer. Perfect fit.

Now, how could Rowan not be Legolas? Moody, broody elf man who’s initially tagging along just because dad (or in this case Maeve who is basically Saruman) said so.

Now this is where my ideas get a little foggy when it comes to the rest of the fellowship because dynamics and story and stuff. But do have some thoughts.

I think Connall and Fenrys would be a good fit for Merry and Pippin. They seem like the obvious choice personality wise.

Lorcan would be Boromir. Feels like he’s got to do it out of obligation. Would rather take the ring to Maeve so she can sort it out. But then he finds out Maeve on the bad side... oh dear. Whatever shall he do now. Guess he’ll just have to stay with the Fellowship. Whoever shall he meet along the way 🤔.

Now. Gimli. I’m thinking Lysandra mainly just because I want to add her in. She’s got her shifter gifts so she’s real handy.

Ok. This ones gonna hurt a little. Gavriel is Gandalf. Now. I can’t decide if I want him to do the balrog thing or do the Boromir sacrifice. I’m leaning towards the Boromir thing but if I do the balrog thing I can bring him back and he can meet Aedion becauuusse...

Aedion is Faramir. He’s in Orynth/Minas Tirith running the show while Darrow slowly loses hope and his mind. Boy is he surprised when Aelin turns up.

And of course we can’t forget Elide. She’s Éowyn, trapped in Perranth/Edoras by Vernon who is very much the Grima role. I’m thinking her father is Theoden but because of the loss of Marion he’s very protective of Elide so we get her desire to fight but he won’t let her. But she of course does get in there in a Éowyn-esque manner. Also, definitely Elorcan going on there.

Now. Back to Rowaelin.

We definitely get the whole start of Heir of Fire hating each other thing but they of course eventually warm to each other. Their first real turning point would be around the Lothlorien point. So say Gavriel dies, Aelin is very upset and we get the comforting. Then we get the pinging/miscommunication/denial stuff from Lothlorien to Helms Deep. At the Helms Deep battle equivalent Aelin has a burnout and Rowan loses his mind and oh no, here come all the feelings. We definitely get a ‘to whatever end’ moment when she wakes up. Rowan also becomes her bloodsworn and promises to help do whatever he can to get her throne back. Then when she does they get married and have lots of babies and live happily ever after.

Other notes: Elena would fill in the Gandalf wise guide stuff with her appearances. I think Aelin’s big trial would be the Paths of the Dead which would be something similar to forging the lock to get the extra help. Maybe Galadriel and Celeborn are Mala and Brannon in their lesser forms. Maybe the witches are the Ents? They’re hiding out in the forest and Connall and Fenrys find them (a little FenrysxAsterin anybody?). Whitethorns are definitely running the show in Mirkwood, possibly rebels against Maeve.

I think that’s all I got at the moment. Thank you so much for sending this in.

[cloudsncoffee]

It might have started as a ploy, a way to make Corbyn pay attention to you, even when his head was somewhere else. When your legs crossed over his, and his arms folded over your knees, didn’t feel like enough.

It might have started as a bribe, a way to make you to like video games, even when you couldn’t so much as find the R1 button on a controller. When you couldn’t care less about the plot, and the graphics weren’t enough to keep your attention.

It might have started as a truce, that he would rather shoot things on the PlayStation than watch Netflix, and you would rather scroll through Instagram than see another season of whatever reality-esque show his latest fascination has lead him too.

It might have started with the captions, with the text bubbles, the things you would miss when you were looking at your phone then bother him by asking, ‘What did they say? Why are you going that way?’

But it doesn’t really matter how it started, only that it’s your routine now. If Corbyn’s playing a game, and you sprawl out on the couch with him, he narrates it for you. He reads the captions, sure, but also voices the characters, describes the scenery, the weapons, the creatures, the clothes; he reads his games to you like a story, and because you could listen to him read a phonebook and never get tired of it, it’s one of your favorite parts of living with him.

Neither of you think about it, when Jack and Zach invade your living room, demanding to try Corbyn’s newest game, and you fold yourself into his lap on the sofa to watch their attempts. Corbyn, because this is what he does, immediately starts explaining the story to you, and it doesn’t take long for the boys to start interrupting. Zach practically leaps out of this seat, “Look at the size of that snake!”

“Zach,” You don’t even look up from your phone, despite copying his wide-eyed tone exactly, “The point of Corbyn talking so much is so I don’t have to look at the snake.”

Corbyn ignores you both, using his best Gandalf voice to read another caption, “The Lotus of,”

“Right,” Zach talks over him, “But look at it!”

You decide to ignore him again, and absolutely don’t look up at it.

Corbyn continues carefully explaining, even when he hands the controller off to Jack, who dies in the first thirty seconds and beats out Corbyn to read, “Death,” like ‘knockout!’ and neither of you can help laughing at that one.

A few minutes later, when Corbyn is trying to explain that they might have to murder a fictional monkey by saying, “It might be like the Yeti, babe, don’t get attached. They’re sort of ugly anyway,”

Zach loses it again, even thought now it’s his turn with the controller, “Oh, my god. Are you going to cry? You’re going to cry, aren’t you? He’s made you attached to them,” Zach’s practically bouncing, “He described them as cute, didn’t he? Don’t worry, they’re actually like really creepy human monkeys.”

“I like this better when you aren’t here,” You grumble, even though Zach’s enthusiasm is kind of adorable.

Zach drops his controller to throw his arms around you, and exclaim, “You love me!”

“Not nearly enough for this,” You mutter, even while you pat at his back.

Corbyn, because all of this has taken place nearly in his lap, reprimands him, “Zach, unhand her you fiend.”

Which immediately causes you and Zach to lose it, giggling together and repeating his insult, “Fiend.”

Corbyn, somehow, manages not to blush, while explaining, “This game is very Medieval!” Then steals Zach’s controller off the floor to take control of the game, and continue his narration like that didn’t just happen, “These mountains,”

And that’s when you think, with startling clarity, this is the voice that will read your babies bedtime stories.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it before, about the future, about having a family with him, it’s impossible not to, when he’s acting like a child with every kid that comes to a meet and greet, and tossing your cousins in the air during every family vacation.

But that’s always felt hypothetical, like potential, possibility, probably, and something about this feels concrete. It makes you slide closer to him, wrap your arms as far around him as you can, and mutter against his shoulder, “I love you so much.”

Corbyn doesn’t pause, doesn’t seem to catch the enormity of the moment, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, without ever stopping his momentum in the game, “I love you too, babe,” He says, in his own voice, then slips back into the Batman tone he’s been using for this character to explain whatever he’s doing on the screen.

You’ll tell him about it later, when the boys have gone home and you’re getting ready for bed, and he’ll just grin, charmed and confident, in a way you know he sometimes struggles to be but never with you, and it’ll hit you all over again, how lucky you are to do life with him.

*I have about a dozen things in my inbox to write, and I promise I’m working on them, but this is based on a real thing my favorite person does, and my mostly real thoughts about him. I think I might want to use this concept in a longer piece later, but I just really didn’t want to forget the feeling of it now. <3

[saltandlimes]

Lately I’ve been seeing a huge increase in doomsday-esque posts, about how society is collapsing and the planet is dying etc etc. and it’s making it hard for me to just..go about my normal life? Like literally every choice I make I just feel like I’m contributing to landfills and suffering and horrible things and I don’t know how to cope with it anymore.

*hugs*

This is one of the great challenges in our lives today. It’s actually one of the great challenges that humans have faced throughout history. While global warming is new-ish, and the political problems we face are unique, the fact that we stand on the edge of a knife, that at any moment things could change? That isn’t new. Throughout history, people have (rightly or wrongly) held apocalyptic or millinarian beliefs.

I’m not saying this to minimize the problems we face. They’re real, and dire, and probably more globally significant than many of the others the world has faced before (but not all). What matters here is that there are a wide range of ways humans have dealt with this sort of feeling.

First is information gathering. Learning the truth of the situation often helps. For example, your landfill use has incredibly minimal effects. The great, great majority of pollution, and the overwhelming reason that our planet is changing, is the fault of a tiny number of corporations. Unless you work for one of those, or benefit from its actions as an owner or stockholder, your own actions are not really the things causing global climate change. In this way, information gathering, as opposed to just reading posts on tumblr can help you better understand exactly what’s going on, which can in turn relieve anxiety.

Second is information restriction. If tumblr posts are making you anxious, decide to read only the Guardian for a week, or only the news app on your phone, or only books. Choose to take control of your consumption. In this way, you can look at the bad, and not close your eyes to it, but also look at the good - the seal that was rescued, the new green power initiatives, etc. etc. In the information age, it’s easy to become overwhelmed. Choose your sources.

Last but not least is to pick something positive to do. Pick something, that every time you do it, you’ll know you’re making the world a better place. It can be anything from volunteering at an animal shelter, to helping out at a non-profit, to calling your senator, congressperson, or MP. It can even be giving one compliment a day to a stranger (something I did for years). Make a positive impact. It’ll help. I promise.

The world is huge and overwhelming, and it doesn’t rest all on your shoulders. It can’t. You aren’t responsible for everyone and everything. You are only responsible for what you can do. As Gandalf tells us in The Lord of the Rings, wishing none of this had happened, and that we didn’t have to deal with it is normal - everyone does it. “But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

[It’s Sleepover Saturday]

[leam1983]

Middle-Earth: Shadow of War Review

Note as of June 1st, 2020 - This review predates Monolith’s removal of the game’s microtransactions and the restructuring of the Endgame content. Enemy level scaling has been marginally affected, but not enough to affect this review.

Back in 2014, I wrote of Middle-Earth : Shadow of Mordor that it perpetuates and perpetrates acts of loving perversion, that it twists Tolkien’s lore around its little finger for the sake of shoring up its tale of revenge. I didn’t exactly put that off as being bad or somehow reprehensible, and even actively enjoyed it. Notes have been left by Tolkien himself, in which he more than clearly stipulates that he’s fine with others traveling along Middle-Earth’s side-paths in his stead, but that a certain consistency must be maintained. His main cast has very specific roles and shares specific relationships – they enter and leave the scene in a specific order that must be maintained. Mordor had us traipse around with Gollum and Lady Marwen for a spell, and attached one of the Silmarilion’s key characters to our protagonist. Talion was our Discount Aragorn of the day, and he had the esteemed honor – or misfortune – of being paired with the wraith of Celebrimbor, the former Lord of Eregion and the doomed craftsman behind the Nine Rings.

Purists howled, gamers cheered. Udün and Nürn were on the smallish side, if open-world sandboxes are concerned, and largely contained the usual open-world trappings, such as towers to climb and various knickknacks to collect. At the end of the day, however, what allowed the game to please so many had to be its Nemesis System, a clever piece of tech that tracks players and generates bespoke Uruk-Hai; vat-born palookas that breathe, drink and sweat sheer violence and hatred and that incidentally come with a surprisingly developed palette of personalities. Whichever greenskin killed you the most became your Nemesis, a mixture of coding and player behavior resulting in violent, if intimate relationships between yourself and an ascended Peter Jackson extra packing disparate armor pads and a smattering of scars.

Shadow of War, for better or worse, is exactly the same – if better in every way. Loving perversion returns, exemplified here by one of Ungoliant’s daughters looking particularly… un-spider-like, and by the ways in which Celebrimbor and Talion’s conjoined tales now both stretch one another, grow thin around the edges, and finally break away, to clear the path for the Fellowship we’re all familiar with. A few places are referred to here that shouldn’t have existed so early in Sauron’s rebirth, but unless you’re the type who launches into angry screeds whenever someone expresses their ignorance of who Morgoth is, you’re likely to be able to forgive much of it. As with Shadow of Mordor, Shadow of War exists as a modern, gritty and unapologetic side-tale in Middle-Earth’s history books, the kind of project you’re almost surprised to see Middle-Earth Entreprises cautioning – but still one that treads its little corner of the lore confidently.

As before, it’s essentially AAA fanfiction. Excellently-written fanfiction, of course, with a star-studded cast and unlikely friends and allies; but still a piece of fiction that purists can afford to safely ignore. That is, if they’re part of the Fun Police – as Shadow of War remains entertaining throughout its thirty-hour run. This is largely thanks to its cast of procedurally-generated Orcs, who all somehow manage to remain memorable. The pendulum swings wildly between sympathy, disgust and raucous amusement – even if they all remain fittingly murderous – which takes the legendarium’s treatment of Melkor, Morgoth and Sauron’s respective lackeys and tears it apart. If you’re a little like me, you’ll finish your run through Talion’s story thinking that with enough pipeweed and Lembas bread, you might be able to pluck a little Orcling out of the breeding pits and turn it into an overgrown Hobbit with a serious dental problem.

Of course, I’ll also briefly touch on the one and single Orc in the entire game you’ll desperately want to kill, but can’t. That would be the cash shop’s vendor, with his pre-release visage packing unfortunate cultural and stereotypical connotations. Good on Monolith for fixing that in time; I doubt many of us were interested in funnelling micropayments towards the kind of face 4Chan’s trolls bracket in three pairs of parentheses. The pre-release stream’s showcase definitely did pack a few related Oy vey moments…

So. Spoilers abound beyond this point. Abandon all hope and whatnot, alright? Cool.

We ended Shadow of Mordor with Talion and Celebrimbor, from here on referred to as Brim for the sake of ruffling that undead sourpuss’ Elven hair, taking to Mount Doom to forge a new Ring of Power. Being distinct from those offered to Middle-Earth’s rulers and of a different provenance than the One Ring, it was designed by Celebrimbor in order to allow him to wrest control of Mordor’s Uruk forces away from Sauron. Unforeseen events unfold which separate Talion from Brim, which sets the pace for the game’s tutorial and its first act. We’re exposed to the same Assassin’s Arkham Creed-esque mechanics the first one presented, with a few small aesthetic and functional improvements. Desperation then forces the reunited duo to follow Shelob’s advice and take to Minas Ithil, a scant few days before its fall at the hands of the Nazgül – and its rebirth as Minas Morghul.

It’s there that War blatantly references its elders in the genre, as Ithil is one of the few fully-realized settlements you’ll find in Mordor. It’s obviously packed and serves as the smaller of the game’s five regions, while still adequately evocating the scale of its more familiar brethren, such as the Gondorian city of Minas Tirith. You reach it just as it’s pushing through the Orcs’ first open siege in months, the stately beauty of its colonnades looking adequately pitted with age and duress. Ithil, after all, remains a city of Mordor and not Gondor, and as such looks to have thrived in an atmosphere of near-constant tension. You just so happen to reach it as the proverbial levee breaks, which conveniently provides you with both a familiar set of rooftops to serve as a series of transitional environments for anyone coming in from Assassin’s Creed titles or the Arkham games and more general stuff to do. Pick some basic Ubisoft open-world mechanics and you’ll find something similar here.

The same can be said of the combat mechanics, while it’d be more fair of War to say it’s cribbing from his bigger brother than from what other studios have put together. Talion is a bit sprier than before, Brim is a lot more agile once a few story-focused unlocks kick in, and most of Mordor’s mid-to-late-tier upgrades here serve as entry-level abilities. Unlike the first game, you don’t spend the first hour or so getting your ass handed to you by Püshkrimp the Armchair Philosopher – you’re potent from the word go. The same can be said of your enemies, as most Captains are now sufficiently detailed so as to consistently pose some challenge. Doormats with a title are less common, and so are unbreakable towers lording over you from a dozen or so levels. Hence the use of the word some, as you’re never in a position of overpowering strength, either from your point of view or the enemy’s. That’s a good thing, as the Nemesis system is a lot more detailed and records several additional variables. Cut an arm off of a persistent Captain, and he might come back with a new title, one or two extra levels – and a gnarly-looking DIY-plus-Black Speech prosthetic limb. Particularly eloquent types can be relegated to the rank of drooling wretches if Brim Shames them to the point where they Break. The use of capitals here is intentional, as the game clearly differentiates between Dominating an Orc and Breaking it. Dominated Orcs join your ranks, while Broken Orcs take a massive dip in levels and power. You’ll sometimes encounter Captains that stand several levels above Talion, too high for them to be recruited. Shaming them puts them within your reach, provided you find them again.

That said, as the Nemesis system characterizes everything about the Uruk-Hai, you might start out with a sympathetic and rambunctious sort who treats your repeated clashes like joyful reunions – even while he’s trying to skewer you. Break him, and chances are he’ll be reduced to monosyllabics. He’ll still be potent enough to serve as a Captain by the game’s standards, but he’ll be pretty much due for the paddywagon… The main campaign includes one fairly striking example of the scripted Breaking of a former follower – and is where the sandbox’s goofy greenskins tend to step aside for the franchise’s gritty wartime themes to reassert themselves. This is perhaps one of the few thematic issues with the title, as while Troy Baker and Alastair Duncan are both as gravelly-faced and somber as Gandalf and Elrond at the worst of times, levity rests almost entirely on the shoulders of the procedurally-generated Orcs. Mordor looks verdant at times, chilly at others – but it is most assuredly a grim and dire place to be, unless you’re above seven feet tall and happen to be one of the Dark Lord’s vat-born servants. Then, judging by those green palookas I’ve run into, you’re in for copious amounts of wanton violence, thousands of variants on head trauma and dismemberment, and lots and lots of grog. That seems to be the Orcish concept of fun, at least… That can make for jarring tonal shifts in the same scene, but at least it occurs more consistently than the first game’s half-hearted inclusion of Ratbag the Coward.

So the core mechanics are the same, but what’s changed? The premise having moved to a war in need of orchestration, your Dominating Orcs isn’t just a means of affording yourself some handy meat shields anymore. The betrayals and covert operations you staged across war camps now cover entire regions, the core Nemesis operations allowing for the development of a strong covert force as well as of a direct assault battalion. You’ll need it, as War now packs one fort for each of its five regions, from Nürnen’s verdant coastlines to Gorgoroth’s perpetual lava floes. That’s five sets of regional Captains to either slice and dice apart, Dominate, replace, or appoint to favorable positions. The cash shop includes Training Orders, which enable you to relocate Captains from one region to another – or from your Barracks to the open world. As you could expect, sworn fealty isn’t a guarantee of unwavering service. Orcs with a particularly strong will are likely to turn coat at inopportune moments. This seems like a harmless mechanic, until you consider that the hotshot Uruk War Boss you paid five bucks for could very well leave your service.

Each fort packs three capture points you’ll more or less take à la Overwatch, by piling your followers into the indicated circles. Each point can serve as the theatre for several high-level bouts, as this is obviously where the enemy sends its best attackers. It’s largely where you can expect last-minute saves from your Dominated retinue, and where the oft-mentioned battlefield relationships can develop. It’s all very Platonic, of course, but an Orc you’ve appointed and who takes well to his post might very well decide to take out the guy who’s about to choke the life out of you with a well-placed crossbow bolt. A few canned animations sell that basic sense of respect, Talion waving his thanks to his savior of the moment before going back to carving his way to the Warlord’s chambers.

 Of course, War does pack its Ratbag analog, the star of 2017’s E3 presentation. Brüz the Chopper serves as an amusing bundle of Australian lingo wrapped in an eternal optimist’s attitude – right up until he doesn’t. The game tries to dovetail its way to the point where Brüz leaves the luxury of scripted scenes and rejoins the rest of the Nemesis Captains, giving him an appropriate sendoff that many might not appreciate as being in keeping with the series’ themes. Of course, if you’d rather keep the Chopper in his Chatty Cathy phase, you can always take to Online Vendettas in Nürnen and snatch someone else’s Brüz for your own use. In theory, you could repopulate your army with the same plot-mandated Uruk in a dozen copies if you compulsively play Online Vendettas. They’re also the only way to earn Loot Boxes beyond paying for them with the in-game currency, Mirian, or ponying up hard cash for Gold, the premium currency.

So let’s say you’ve staffed your front lines, you’ve got men poised to backstab Osgiliath’s Overlord at your command and you’ve upgraded your support positions with Sauron’s elite – which you’ve unceremoniously stolen from him. What now? You can travel to another region to carry out the same process, you can put your staff through the meat grinder of Nemesis Missions or Fight Pit events to have them gain power levels, or you can wait for one of the unaffiliated Captains to find you, or for one of your own to turn coat. Outside of story missions and collectibles, your conquered regions are more or less likely to sit nice and pretty until you reach the final chapter of the game – and its most controversial one – Shadow Wars.

See, the game rather ingloriously ends with your being forced to bide time for Middle-Earth, between the events of Two Towers and Return of the King. The same point-based mechanics play out in reverse, expecting you to work from the stronghold and outwards – but not after having seriously committed to a long grind. Sauron’s efforts to reclaim your territories are going to be two or three times stronger than yours at the onset, so you’re expected to buff up your forces before triggering each attack. At this point, you can either pay up for a quick-and-dirty boost, or work your way up a rather steep slope. All of it for what, exactly?

Well – let’s just say Shadow Wars isn’t integral to the story in any shape or form. All it does is pad out the game’s length and transition the story from its shocker of a “proper” ending to one that neatly resolves all remaining conflicts in a nice bit of CGI. As with the previous game, all of the events that unfolded are shown as having had no real impact on the official lore and timeline. It more or less left me smirking and shaking my head, wondering why I even bothered with all of this if, as before, Talion’s contribution to the core events end up being conveniently scrubbed aside.

Thanks, Gamer-Person, you really did us a solid, right there! See, Frodo and Sam had a lot of cramps along the road and spent way too much time in that Bombadil fellow’s forest, so you stalled Sauron’s boys for a couple weeks! Cheers, off to the Halls of Mandos with you; we’ll mail you a cast photo of the Fellowship as thanks! No, Gandalf doesn’t take phone calls, so KTHNKXBAI!

Said story doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel, but it does flesh out both Talion and Brim a fair bit more. You bearing witness to Minas Ithil’s destruction scatters a few Gondorians of note across Mordor, and you’re made to assist them while simultaneously working with another newcomer to the lore; Eltariel, the Blade of Galadriel. In another canon-shattering move, she packs the Light of Eärendil in weaponized form. Talion consistently attempts to wrest the events back to the ensured survival of the exiled Gondorians, only for Brim and Eltariel to constantly hammer in the need to stop Sauron. It’s there that a rather Nietzschean observation concerning Celebrimbor rears its head, as our Brim doesn’t quite pack the objectivity and self-restraint of his Silmarilion counterpart. If anything, compassionate politics seems to be Talion’s consistently-ignored proposition, while Brim steadily makes his moniker of Bright Lord look like a bad joke.

Brüz has the right of it, honestly, as per his comment in the E3 gameplay snippet. “Bright Lord, Dark Lord?” he rhetorically asks, a snarky smirk on his massive face, “Same thing, really.” Talion doesn’t miss a beat for most of the game, which makes your bipartite entity come across as something close to a squabbling couple with different viewpoints. Then, and if only to motivate another loving skewer of the legendarium and the transition to Shadow Wars proper, he skips on the last gigantic red flag pointing to his ethereal friend’s seriously problematic approach to justice. It undermines what is meant to be some sort of massive twist – and potentially a setup for any potentially Eltariel-themed DLC to follow – and makes it come across as more of an inevitability. Safe to say, Monolith would have to bend over backwards in order to produce a third game in the same continuity, based on the position in which they’ve left things.

Not that the story isn’t fun as it’s presented, though. It’s a bit rote and it does leave me feeling as though Talion was shortchanged in a fairly ridiculous way: I do have the nagging idea that Monolith figured they’d just finish checking off boxes from their Big List of LOTR Figures to Introduce, and that they plugged in Gollum as a sort of admission of the character’s position as a series staple. It feels as though some exec somewhere said “It’s a LOTR game, right? Plug Gollum in there even if it’s not entirely conducive to the plot, or else!”

If the previous game struck me as being a fairly Postmodern approach to Tolkien’s source material, this one is also starkly progressive, in contrast. The proper lore does include its fair share of femmes de tête such as Eöwyn, but it always did treat them as outsiders to the norm; it serving as a sort of reflection of Tolkien’s own musty sensibilities. I’ve even heard some armchair scholars refer to the man as a Luddite, which isn’t too surprising.

Still, Shadow of War is entirely a creature born of the same climate that allowed for the Peter Jackson films, the creation of Middle-Earth Entreprises and the adaptation rights to the LOTR name being sold off to Amazon Video. It stems from the same zeitgeist as Christopher Tolkien’s stepping-down from ME’s ruling council and the general sense that the publishing of Beren and Luthien marks the end of an era. In a sense, it’s from the same spirit that’s now seeing the production of Game of Thrones spin-offs. Insofar, the new climate we’ve only just entered is one in which celebrated Fantasy universes are ripe for the picking, setting the stage for something we might one day come to call the LOTR Expanded Universe.

If you’re a purist, as before, you’ll probably quiver in your boots at the thought of humanized and fleshed-out Easterlings and Haradrim (yeah, about that one, dear White Eurocentrist Tolkien Fans…) or, Eru forbid it, even more nuanced portrayals of Middle-Earth’s canonically “dark” races and species! If you’re the type to cling to the books the way Star Trek diehards cling to their Klingon dictionaries, fly! Fly, you fools!

Honestly, I think that’s a good thing.

Yes. Yes, dear purists, I’ve said it. I’ve said the thing that motivates no end of detailed screeds on YouTube and across literary circles. You’re probably frothing at the mouth, right now, waiting to tell me that Orcs are vat-born, that the Haradrim and Easterlings all serve Sauron, that Middle-Earth is a land of refreshing absolutes where Good is saccharine and Evil eats babies for lunch – but even the source material packs a few Uruk who resort to mercy as a tactically-sound approach of dealing with captured Hobbits, or greenskins who don’t object to talking in their master’s back at the favor of being eavesdropped on by Sam Gamgee. These same Orcs reminisce on the good old days that didn’t involve their being on the warpath, suggesting that they actually do have some concept of peacetime!

Be the Fun Police if you have to – I’ll be over there cackling madly at the sight of sappy fanfics involving Azog and an unusually determined Numenorean maiden. If Shadow of War is what happens when game devs don’t just stick to established tenets but are allowed to run with a franchise’s overall vibes, I could take dozens more titles like this. The only real problems the game rises are thematic or character-based, the rest is as fluid and visceral as its predecessor.

That said, I do wish Püshkrimp the Armchair Philosopher were a Nemesis variant. You’d walk into the gutted and torn remains of an old Elven fortress in Seregost, sword drawn and muscles taut, only to be met with a cozy fire, a profusion of bear pelts, Gondorian mead and a comfy chair – and a seersucker-clad Uruk with elbow pads and pince-nez glasses, wanting to challenge your ability to address the Nature versus Nurture question, as presented by his own people... Fail to follow the right dialog options, and he would put you down to a sliver of health by the sheer sting of his contemptuous rebuttal. Manage to beat him, and the game would strip him of his title, rebranding him as Püshkrimp the Sophist…

Or – ooh! The Obsessed types from the first game could actually trigger a mini-dating sim, in which a seven feet-tall humanoid with olive-green skin and scruffy facial hair tries his hardest to initiate a consensual gay relationship between himself and an undead Ranger of Gondor!