#people compare him idolising her to the way he idolised his uncle and it's a similar thing

[iwasbored777]

You know I find it funny that after ATSV I see a lot of posts that say something like "omg Gwen is both girlboss and a loser at the same time" or "she's both the coolest and so cringe" because this is exactly how Miles sees her after the movie. He idolised her in the first movie (not just her but all of their friends too) until things didn't work out as perfectly as the last time. Which is exactly why it's good that most of the movie was from her perspective because no she's not a girlboss and she's not the coolest and she's also not a loser nor cringe - she's literally normal. She can mess up just like Miles and she can win just like Miles and her life can be awful just like Miles' life can be and her life can also be great just like Miles' and everyone else's. Like in Miles' introduction scene in ATSV he's messing up big time whenever he tries to defeat a villain and no one in Brooklyn takes him seriously but later when he's fighting Miguel he wins.

Gwen is just a normal person (just like Miles) and people forget that. They divide characters simply in good or bad but most of them (not all but most) are just realistic characters because even with superpowers they're humans just like all of us. And it's totally up to you if you're gonna like them or not.

[groovybaybee]

Empty Beach (4.5k)

Three hours. It only took three hours for the tan line on my ring finger to be brought up. Three measly hours I had spent in the country, travelling to the house and unpacking, before his name was mentioned. Despite choosing a later flight in a desperate attempt to spend as little time with my distant relatives as possible, the question was inevitable.

 “No Ethan this year?” my sweet but intrusive grandmother had asked the second grace had been uttered.

 It took less than two seconds for the question to be answered by my mother.

 “They split up, ma,” she said with a passive aggressive smile as she passed me some vegetables.

 “That’s a pity… such a nice young man,” my grandmother pressed, leaning forward in her seat.

 “Very nice,” I muttered under my breath, knowing fully well that my side of the story would never be accepted.

“Anyone else on the scene?” asked my uncle as he bounced a fussy toddler on his knee. “Want to get yourself settled soon, pop out a couple of these sweet things.” He added when I shook my head.

 I watched as the child grabbed wildly at anything in his reach, knocking a bread roll on to the floor. My eyes followed my uncle as he reached down to scoop up the discarded food, quickly blowing at it before settling it back on his plate.

 “Mhm,” I hummed before dropping my gaze to my plate, pushing the food around miserably.

 The rest of the meal followed a similar pattern. Questions were asked. Digs unsubtly disguised as jokes were made at my expense. I offered half-hearted noises of agreement when reminded that my biological clock is ticking, and no man wants an old spinster for a wife.

 Family has a way of making you feel terrible about yourself. They can highlight all your perceived failures and mock them to your face, delighting in their ‘progress’ comparative to yours.

 Ethan used to make these visits more bearable. Having someone accompany me to these yearly holidays helped to calm the fire in my stomach, the urge to argue with my family’s traditional ideals. For a while, I convinced myself Ethan’s presence soothed my wild nature outside these trips as well, encouraging me to be practical and always plan ahead.

 He was sensible and I was sensible when I was around him. So, when he asked me to marry him at this exact villa one year ago, I did the sensible thing and accepted.

 My family were ecstatic, finally marrying me off and watching me become the person they expected me to become. First would be the wedding, then children, then grandchildren. I would be a wife, most likely staying home to raise our children and resenting every moment of allowing myself to be stifled like that.

 Ethan and I made sense in almost every way. We just lacked that… something. Some people describe it as a spark, others a fire. Whatever it is, it never existed between us. We both knew that, so it did not shock me to see the relief in his eyes when I returned his ring.

 No one could understand how we ended a four-year relationship over seemingly nothing, especially not my family members.

 “Have you been trying to work things out with Ethan? I’m sure if you just talked you could resolve whatever you’re going through.” My mother urged as we cleared the table.

 The scoff that left my lips was unintentional but impossible to retain.

 “I’m trying to help fix your mistakes.” She snapped, clattering plates as she piled them forcefully.

 “Not everything I do is a mistake.” I countered softly, exhausted from my flight and from the years of having this conversation.

 “Of course not, but don’t your father and I deserve grandchildren? Have we not earned that after—”

 I refused to let her finish her sentence, quickly announcing that I was going for a walk.

 Blood boiled in my veins as I trudged through cobbled streets. The stomp of my sandals against the ground sounded ridiculous and only infuriated me further as I stormed aimlessly through familiar backstreets until the sound of softly crashing waves called me closer.

 It was after sunset, most of the beach empty save for a few teenagers gathered around a small fire. The anger in me had subsided by the time I reached the sand, gently toeing off my shoes and carrying them with me as I walked the width of the beach.

 Waves brushed my toes as I inhaled and exhaled deeply, grateful for the gentle evening breeze that seemed to soothe the burn inside my throat. I spent a few moments, still, allowing the water to cleanse my soul and pull away the negativity of the night with each receding wave.

 Planting myself in the sand, I stretched out my legs to their full extent, flexing and relaxing my bare feet until the tiny grains felt coarse on my skin.

 I sat for a long while, reminding myself that only I knew what was best for me. Not my family, who I purposely only interacted with a couple of times per year. They barely knew me; they most definitely did not know what I needed.

 The urge to settle down at a young age and start a family as quickly as possible in order to continue the cycle had never appealed to me. Even as a child I craved excitement and adventure; something no amount of familial intervention could knock out of me.

 A late-night trip to the beach like this one would be considered reckless. I could only imagine the passive-aggressive nightmare I would return to. Silent gawks and glares would surround me until I felt claustrophobic.

 My desire for freedom and spontaneity most certainly was the product of a recessive gene, one only shared by my great aunt, Delilah. She stopped attending all family get-togethers when I was still a child. The memory of her pulling me back during a family walk to skip stones with her would stay with me forever.

 “They won’t be around you forever,” she had told me as she bounced a rock four times across the placid lake. “One day you’ll have your own life. You’ll make your own choices and you’ll make them for yourself, won’t you honey?”

 I hadn’t really understood what she meant but I nodded anyway. I idolised her. The fire I recognised in myself, I saw in her. She was the only one who understood me, which is why it hurt all the more when I had to face family gatherings alone.

 It was only when I was an adult that her leaving made sense. Delilah was in her late sixties when she finally came out to her family. That evening, after we returned from the lake, I was sent to bed while my family had a ‘grown-up’ discussion. The next morning, she was gone, and no one would tell me why.

 She sent presents on birthdays and Christmas, postcards from each new place she visited, always reminding me to be true to myself and do what I wanted. Now she was free, she felt alive.

 I drew her name in the damp sand with my index finger, mine beneath it, and made a silent promise to keep the fire alive for the both of us.

 What would DeeDee do right now? I had wondered.

 An immediate grin had spread across my face when I heard her voice in my head, telling me: “I don’t know, something stupid like skinny-dipping.”

 I knew that if she were around, she would tell the story of how she skinny-dipped at boarding school with the headmistress’ daughter. I could almost feel the warmth of her laughter as I sat on the sand.

 Envying her liberation, I glanced around the beach to gage the possibility of being nude without being arrested for public indecency.

 The teenagers had left while I was reminiscing, their fire extinguished. The beach appeared empty. No one would see. Even if it was just for a moment, it felt something that I needed to experience.

 Head and heart fixed on the idea, I quickly stripped my body of the pale blue sundress. Taking a swift but deep breath, I pulled down my underwear and tossed them into the pile. A small giggle fell from my lips as my body adjusted to the new temperature. A warm gust of wind blew past me, almost as if encouragingly pushing me towards the water.

 I ran without looking back until my knees splashed water around my body and the ocean became too deep and slowed me down. I stood, waist deep, under the sky. It was a clear night, save for a few light clouds which glided past in the breeze.

 My eyes fell closed as I breathed in the moment, desperate to savour each salty kiss and gentle caress of the water. Everyone had disappeared. Each nag and dig had vanished from memory. This was peace.

 It was peace, until the gentle crashing of waves was interrupted by a sigh.

 Instantly, I crouched in the water, eager for ever the slightest touch of modesty as I turned to locate the source of the sound.

 About ten metres away, waves lapping around his ribs, stood a man with his eyes closed and head thrown back as if bathing in the moonlight.

 In a desperate attempt to go unseen, I squatted low. My chin just above the water, I attempted to side-step away in order to keep an eye on him and prevent any awkwardness.

 I was almost crab-walking away when he finally noticed me, a misplaced footstep caused me to be plunged underneath the lukewarm tide.

 “Whoa, you alright?” I heard him ask when I surfaced, spluttering and spitting so much water that I did not notice him mirror my stance, also crouched.

 “Fine.” I coughed, clearly not fine but thankful that he did not press it.

 The two of us stood in silence as I caught my breath, running my hands over my head to scrape back the tangling mess of hair, already wondering how I would explain this when I returned to my family.

 “Nice night isn’t it?” he asked after the silence started to become thick with tension.

 “Yeah, not bad,” I replied, pausing for a moment to smirk at the ridiculousness of the situation.

 “Know any constellations?” he had asked, turning his head back up to the sky.

 “Not really,” I answered.

 It was at this moment that I was given the chance to appreciate him. His head bobbed just above the water, darkened wet hair plastered itself to his head, some parts curling out in defiance. An angular jaw tilted to the stars, catching their light and softening his features. The stranger glowed and glistened as awe-filled eyes watched the twinkling wonders above us.

 “You?” I questioned.

 “Just the ones everyone knows… Orion’s belt, Cassiopeia…” he commented, and I copied his stance, gazing up to the night sky.

 An overwhelming swell of gratitude washed across me as I stood beneath the glittering expanse. I pictured the stars looking down at us as we did to them, marvelling at their distance. Everything felt so insignificant in the most calming way. It did not matter what my family thought of me, or even the unknown man beside me (once I felt safe that he was not about to murder me and leave my lifeless body to float out with the tide). All that mattered is that in that moment, cuddled by gentle waves and illuminated by starlight, I felt alive.

 “When I was a kid, I thought that night-time was like a knitted blanket and stars were the little gaps you get,” he spoke.

 Not able to help myself, I turned to him with a grin at his admission. It felt like such an impossible confession to make to a stranger that I had to meet his gaze, eyes already trained on me by the time mine found his.

 “Sorry, bit mental to tell a stranger.” He laughed.

 “What’s your name?” I asked, sensing his discomfort from oversharing. “Then we aren’t strangers anymore.”

 I learnt his name was Harry. I told him mine and we discuss childhood beliefs as if we had known each other longer than a few minutes. Mentioning my unshakable faith that lightening was just a huge camera flashing seemed to relax him. There was a sweetness to the look he gave me as I spoke. A gentle stare that paired with an equally easy smile. Lips quirked with each word I uttered, until I soon wore a matching grin.

 Only when I was able to notice the deep-set dimples in his cheeks did I realise we had migrated closer to one another. By the sea or our own volition, we were only a few feet apart. He was breath-taking up close, warm but dark eyes glinted emerald and a light dusting of freckles across his nose were a testament to a day in the sun.

It was then that I began to panic. The realisation that the possibility to slip away without him seeing my nude body was quickly diminishing the more I spoke to him. But I didn’t want to stop.

 “I don’t believe you.” I laughed heartily.

 “It’s true! I can call my mum and she’ll tell you. My sister convinced me whenever I blinked everyone turned into a frog.” He spoke fondly, a warmth spreading across his features as he reminisced.

 “Can I ask you something that’s going to sound a bit mad?” I asked once calm was restored between us. One last-ditch effort to keep some dignity intact.

 “Sure.” Harry had answered with a light, throaty chuckle.

 “Do you think you could wait here for a few minutes and then come meet me on the beach? I’m getting kind of cold, but I think you’re interesting.” I explained the best I could.

 “Okay.” He smiled.

 Almost unbelievably, he continued to follow my instructions when I had him face away from the beach and promise not to look back. He seemed respectful when I made a half-hearted comment about wanting privacy as I towelled off, so I made my way out of the water with confidence that he would not peek. Even if he did, all he would have seen was two cheeks speeding away.

 As quickly as possible, I wiped off as much excess water as I could before pulling on sandy clothing. Almost instantly, a wave of regret passed over me as grains of sand covered a variety of patches of skin. However, when I saw Harry stepping towards me, equally sodden and sandy, the feeling washed away as promptly as it had arrived.

 “So how come you’re out here alone?” I asked curiously as we sat.

 “Doing a bit of solo travelling, kind of figuring out who I am by myself.” He answered. I felt there was more to his story that he was holding back but I did not push. “How about you?”

 “Similar thing kind of... just needed a break.” I explained. I imagine he sensed the same caginess from me as I did him, but, again, we did not dive deeper.

 “What’s the plan for your trip? Where you headed next?” I asked nosily, fascinated by him in all honesty.

 “No real plan.” He told happily.

 Again, he took my breath away. Here was someone with no plans, no aims, no pressures. He was freely living his life. The carefree and spontaneous nature of his attitude threw me off, and I sat staring at him, wondering how I could capture that feeling and keep it with me.

 “What?” he asked with a smirk as I gazed at him admiringly.

 “Nothing, you’re… you’re just not like a lot of people I know.”

 “Shall I take that as a compliment?”

 “Definitely.” I told him with a nod.

 Finally, I managed to prise my gaze from him and look out to the swelling ocean, but I felt his eyes on me still. My face began to heat up as I felt his lingering looks, tracing over my features. Breath caught in my throat as my chest rose and fell heavily.

 “Harry,” I uttered, voice barely above a whisper as I turned to face him.

 “Mm?” he hummed, eyes softly locked on my lips.

 We didn’t say anything else, there was no room for words as our bodies gravitated towards one another until our lips touched. His were salty and a little chapped from the ocean, I imagine mine were too, but they left soft, buttery kisses that left my chest aching for more. From the first moment our lips pressed, I felt addicted to them. Each kiss was another hit, more intoxicating than the last.

 He held me to him. Fingertips grazed the slope of my jaw. Lips sweeter than treacle, we sank together. Soon, our bodies laid as one on the sand, water occasionally lapping at our toes as the tide rolled closer.

 We kept ourselves warm despite the dropping temperature, bodies moving against one another symbiotically. Gradually, hands worked their way under clothing, cold and warm meeting in a blissful collision. A cocktail of excitement and caution filled my stomach. Each matched breath and heavy sigh sent a fizz through my bloodstream, soon drunk on his movements. Desire and trepidation battled throughout my being; a tug of war unevenly stacked against sensibility.

 When a large hand reached my breast, a light gasp tumbled from my lips. His actions stoked a fire within me that even the rising tide could not extinguish. Harry moved slowly, thoughtfully, as his touch spread around me, seeming to savour every single inch. My body arched into his when his lips pulled at the soft flesh of my neck, sucking gently but enough to have my hips rolling involuntarily. Desperately seeking some form of stimulation, they jolted harshly against his. The smirk I felt pressed against my skin only encouraged the burning within me. I was in dire need for something free and a little wild, and there he was.

 “I don’t want to assume anything…” I began, my breathy voice barely above a whisper as his lips travelled down my collarbones and to my chest, “But do you have protection?”

 “In my bag.” He replied with a nod to his large, bulging backpack.

 For a moment, we lay still, his chin on my chest as bright eyes and a matching smile looked up at me. There was a shared sense of relief at the realisation that we both wanted the same thing and wanted the best possible outcome for each other. There was mischief in our eyes, a touch of recklessness, but mainly care.

 Lips returned to my skin, puckering along each peak and valley of my covered torso until his mouth reached the hem of my dress. Lifting his eyes questioningly to meet mine, he waited patiently until I gave a soft nod. Eagerly, hands slip beneath the fabric, gliding up the outside of my thighs to reach my hips. He grabbed at the flesh there, greedily kneading it as kisses worked their way up the inside of my legs.

 “Harry…” I breathed out hopelessly.

 His lips crooked into a smile, but he continued to take his time, seeming to enjoy the way my body fought to lay flat against the sand.

 Special attention was given to each and every part of my body, his lips taking their time in dragging their way upwards until, finally, they met the ache between my thighs. His tongue licked tentatively to begin with, before the sight of my body writhing beneath him instilled a new wave of confidence. Soft licks evolved into wet, open-mouthed kisses. Before too long, his mouth moved keenly in delicate swirls as fingertips dug gently but firmly into my hips. Harry held me in place as I desperately sought more from him. Back arched and toes dug helplessly into the sand, his hair tangled through my fingers.

 His eyes were on me the whole time, confidently working me close to orgasm without even a shred of doubt in his performance. Not that there needed to be, his mouth moved beautifully against me, switching between soft licks, gentle sucking, and passionate lapping. I felt his jaw moving up and down as his face pressed into me, nose and mouth gliding up and down the length of my pussy, sure to leave no area neglected. My eyes met and disconnected with his constantly, battling to watch and remember every detail of being with him while struggling to keep my eyes open at all.

 “Think you can come for me?” he groaned; lips so close they sent vibrations across my flesh.

 I was already a quaking mess from his actions, but his words, his desire to give me pleasure, all became too much. My fingers wound through his hair as he pulled me closer, working faster and sloppier. Messy, wonderful circles swirled around my clit as a hand reached up the length of my body. The top of my dress was pulled down, breasts exposed and sensitive in the night air. Gentle fingertips juxtaposed the passion between my legs as they caressed and rolled the freed flesh.

 Overcome with sensation, my hips shuddered against him. Stomach contracting as my toes buried themselves in the sand and fingers grasped his hair, desperate to cling to the world in any way possible. My body fought this urge, convulsing and shivering as his actions became less intense, tongue moving softer against me as he pulled me through my orgasm.

 Once I had stopped shaking, Harry crawled back up my body to lay beside me. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before propping himself up on his elbow to observe me.

 My breathing levelled out and muscles relaxed before I was able to open my eyes again. When I did, I noticed the way the moonlight reflected on his face, showering him with luminescent majesty. He looked ethereal as he watched over me.

 “All good?” he asked softly, the slightest touch of nervousness present in his voice.

 In response, I nodded my head to his backpack. I watched as an inescapable grin slipped on to his lips before he rolled over to dig through his bag.

 As he searched, my hands began to explore his body. Slowly, they felt the tension of his shoulders, a firm chest, prominent abdominal muscles covered in a layer of soft flesh. The other hand ghosted across the meatiness of his thighs, urgently fighting the desire to dig my fingers in. It continued up to his hipbone, the bottom of his shirt pushed up slightly, revealing tattoos I had not had chance to see yet. I wondered if he would let me count them sometime as he turned back to face me, condom in hand.

 His gaze softened as it fell on me, flickering for a second to my breasts before returning to my face. Our lips reconnected, the same warmth spreading across them and down into my chest and stomach, already hooked on the feeling.

 “You’re sure, right?” I asked him when my hand reached the waistband of his shorts.

 “Positive. You?”

 My answer came in the form of a nod before I slipped a hand through his hair and pulled his lips back to mine.

 Our hands worked clumsily together to unbutton his shorts, soft giggles shared as our fingers tangled. I pulled myself on top of him as he rolled the condom down the length of his cock. His eyes watched me hungrily as I positioned myself above him, gathering the excess fabric of my skirt in my hand before sinking slowly on to him. A gasp left my mouth involuntarily as my body accommodated his size. When the backs of my thighs met the tops of his, I paused, my hips grinding of their own volition. Rocking back and forth caused him to hit the most delicious spots, my muscles clenching around him until he was bucking his hips slightly, starting the cycle anew.

 I rose from my position before returning, just as slowly and deliberately. The moans my movements elicited where otherworldly. The melting of our bodies into one another was intense, seeming to fit and move together as if that was their design. Soon, our hips rolled and met quicker, the sensation unlike anything I had ever felt. After a moment, Harry sat up, one arm around my waist and the other behind him to steady us. Lips clung to my chest, pressing kisses along my sternum before encircling my nipple and sucking softly. My hips began to move up and down at the new sensation, causing Harry to pull his head back, watching with lust-filled eyes as my breasts bounced before his eyes.

 A low growl of a moan escaped Harry’s lips as both arms wrapped around my waist tightly. I was lifted and placed gently on my back on the sand before I could even register what was happening. This new position allowed so much more freedom for him, his hips instantly snapping against mine. Each thrust shook my whole body, sand certainly tangling in my hair. There would be no excusing this when I returned to the villa, but I could not have cared less. All I could think about was the feeling between my legs as Harry grabbed me by the waist and collided our hips over and over. He had pulled his shirt up, holding the bottom between his teeth to prevent it from interfering. His eyes bore into mine, watching with a small smirk as I crumbled into a moaning mess beneath him when he slipped a hand down to rub gentle circles against my clit. Still sensitive from before, the added stimulation had me writhing under him.

 I became increasingly thankful for the sound of the waves, just loud enough to cover the obscenities that spilled from my lips as I was brought to my second orgasm. The sensation of my muscles tightening around him proved too much, as he stilled not soon after, a beautifully gruff rendition of my name tumbling from his lips.

 After a moment of gentle thrusts, he pulled out and returned to his position beside me, grabbing a towel from his bag and laying it across us like a blanket. His arm lifted, calling me closer until my head rest on his chest. We laid for a while, regaining our breaths and waiting for our heartbeats to slow.

 “I think that one is Ursa Major.” Harry spoke softly, his voice a little gravellier than before.

 I looked up to the stars to seek the constellation he pointed out, quickly realised I was not that interested.

 “I don’t really care about stars.” I confessed, looking up at him with a slightly exhausted grin.

 “Me neither,” he replied, bottom lip tugged slightly into his mouth as he smirked at me mischievously. “Just wanted to keep talking to you really.”

 Thankful that the night would cover the heat rising in my cheeks, I told him, “I think I quite enjoy talking to you.”

 “Maybe we should run away together.” He joked, a look of fear flickering through his eyes as he realised how intense that could sound, quickly melted away by my breathy laugh.

 “Where do you want to go first?”

masterlist

[artemisdesari-blog]

Why I Find Tauriel Problematic; An Essay On My Thoughts, Feelings, And Why Ambivalence Has Turned Into Frustration and Distaste

Although I have only been back on the fanfiction horse for about two years, and what a wonderful two years those have been, my brief stint writing fanfiction for The Hobbit has shown me a great deal about the fandom, and one of those things is that Tauriel is something like Marmite. For those unfamiliar with Marmite, it is a British salty yeast extract spread that is either utterly delicious or utterly vile depending on the tastes of the one eating it. The marketing slogan for it is “You either love it or hate it”, so even the manufacturers are aware that enjoyment of their product is a very subjective thing. Tauriel seems to polarise the fandom almost as much as said yeast extract, although there is a little more mid range ambivalence towards her as well. For me, personally, I prefer to pretend that she never existed in the movies at all, something that I will get into at a later date. That ambivalence has, sadly, shifted to distaste.

It is no secret that in popular literature and culture there is a very glaring absence of strong female characters. To the extent that when your Captain Janeways, Samantha Carters, Natasha Romanovs and so on pop up they become worth commenting on. Tolkien, of course, is no saint where this is concerned. It is glaringly obvious that for every Lúthien, Galadriel, Arwen and Eowyn there are dozens of male characters who play far greater roles in the saving of the world. In fact, The Hobbit is without strong female characters entirely, being a novel completely dominated by the male Company of Thorin Oakenshield, including the title character. Considering who Tolkien is supposed to have originally written the tale for, the source myths that he referenced and prevailing attitudes of the time, it is unsurprising. In fact, that characters like Eowyn and Galadriel pop up at all, not discounting Lúthien whose romance with Beren was said to have some inspiration from Tolkien’s own marriage, is impressive all things considered. 

With that in mind, let us consider the matter of Tauriel. She was not in the book, and while I can see why the studio wanted her added to the film they later made decisions about her which sat, and still do sit, very poorly with me. Generally speaking, as a writer, I prefer to try ignoring the fact that she exists in the movies, even if I reference the movie appearances of the dwarves to avoid writing about too many bearded males with white or blue or blond hair. If I do reference her it is usually in passing and with no intention to do anything further with her other than acknowledge that she was added to the cast. Frequently, however, I get asked the questions “Will Kíli and Tauriel be forming an attachment?”. “How do you plan to handle the romance between Kíli and Tauriel given the relationship you’ve been building with X character?”, “Why do you dislike her so much?”. I’ve even been accused of disliking her from the misogynistic view point of “the evil female who corrupts the helpless males,” which is frankly offensive and not at all the case.

To the first two questions: she is not book canon, I do not need to address the so-called romance because there is nothing in Tolkien’s canon to support her existence and thus the romance. To the last question… well, that one is a little more complicated and requires an in depth examination of her introduction, actions and interactions with Kíli, as well as his personality as established over the course of the films since we have precious little to go on in the books.

First, let us look at Kíli. He is a flirt. We know that, we see him flirting with various elves during dinner in Rivendell. Beyond that, however, we see very little of his tastes or preferences, although it is probably fair to assume that he is probably something of a romantic as well. As much as he is a main character, he is still more of a background character compared to Bilbo and Thorin. It is, after all, about the hobbit of the piece. He is young, either just about to turn 77 or not long having done so and that makes him young enough that we get the impression that he and Fíli both are still of an age where it is perfectly natural to idolise their uncle and be desperate for his approval. We see that the few times he is dressed down he feels it very keenly. We also see that he is playful and open, perhaps the most playful and open of all of them except, maybe, Bofur. He is curious, perfectly capable of giving his all when it comes to a fight and Gandalf refers to him as one of Thorin’s best alongside his brother and Dwalin. 

We also see him flip from open and loving, though perhaps infatuated is a better word, to cold and murderous in a moment, so we can probably include passionate in all things in that as well.

Now, let us look at Tauriel. Unlike Kíli, we have no set age for her. We know that she is young for an elf, but the ages given range from somewhere around 600 to 1,400. There is one quote placing her at 1,347 but it is in a sea of conflicting information. Regardless, she is young, she is idealistic and curious. She has never left Mirkwood and has dedicated much of the last few decades to attempting to curb the influx of giant spiders which are spreading from Dol Guldur while arguing with Thranduil; who wants his borders kept clear but refuses to deal with the source of the threat. An attitude not unfamiliar to many of us, sadly. She has the friendship of a prince of Mirkwood but is declared not good enough for him. Also, not an uncommon attitude in those who could be thought of as nobility.

She, like any being that has literally had hundreds of years to practice, is incredibly good with her weapons and pings and flips around like the others of her kind. Given her youth and position we can conclude that she is considered unusually skilled for her age but she still has the advantage of living forever, unless she tires of life or is killed, to keep improving her skills.

Finally, let us look at the history between elves and dwarves. It is not a pretty one. They come together for the sake of occasional trade, or to face the threat of Morgoth, and later Sauron, and their armies, but otherwise they keep to themselves. The dislike is clear on both sides and occurs well before the day Smaug arrived in Erebor, during the First Age in fact. So it will be difficult for this young pair to overcome millennia of bad feeling between their people, some of whom actually remember the events that set the dislike in stone. Legolas and Gimli are later understood to be among only a very, very, few who become close enough to be considered great friends. Much of fandom would probably cheerfully have them be a great deal more given Legolas snuck his dwarf into Valinor after Aragorn’s death.

To the shoe-horned in romance, and I do mean that in the literal sense. Evangeline Lily has been heard in interviews to say that she was wary about the fan reception of Tauriel from the start and that she signed on under the explicit understanding that there would be no romance or love triangle. And at the end of the initial shoot there was not. When they came back for studio shoots and reshoots, however, she was presented with a list of scenes that had been added and some that needed to be reshot to accommodate, you guessed it, a love triangle. She was signed in, she had taken the money, done the work and was boxed into a corner. The love triangle went in and it became the part of the films that polarises the fans the most. Besides, if we want to ship something, we do not need to have it spoon fed to us. Bagginshield is the most popular ship in the fandom and we only get the odd hint towards it here and there. Then look at the multitude of other ships. We did not need to be given something we can make up for ourselves.

That out of the way, let us look at their meeting:

The Company is beset by giant spiders, destined to be dinner, confused and disorientated and more than a little desperate, weakened due to lack of food and the weird miasma of Mirkwood which has been playing havoc with their minds. None of them are in good shape but, as they do, they fight on anyway. They need to survive and reach the mountain so that they can take back their home. Enter the elves, arrows whistling, blades crunching into thick spider exoskeletons, performing all manner of acrobatic leaps and twists to avoid getting bitten or killed. It is impressive, eye-catching even to the older dwarves, and would likely be even more so to a pair of young dwarves like Fíli and Kíli. We do not see Fíli’s reaction, he is too busy frantically looking for his missing brother who has been cornered by a spider. 

Enter Tauriel, who refuses to give him a knife to defend himself with and help her deal with the stragglers because she believes he may well be an enemy. She is, in fact, somewhat derogatory towards him. I would not say that Kíli is charmed, although he is certainly impressed, because were he charmed I do not believe he would have such a massively discontent expression on his face as she takes him back to the others. I suspect that, much like in Rivendell, he would have put more effort into turning on the charm. 

As the dwarves are led away, we get the first indication that Tauriel has noticed him; she comments that he is not entirely unattractive for a dwarf due to his lack of beard and the fact that he is tall for one of their kind. Legolas is unimpressed, but we expect that.

Once they reach the cells we see the dwarves desperately attempting to avoid being locked up. Most of them are attempting to force their way free, Fíli appears to be in the process of having yet more knives removed from his person while he huffs and sulks, and Kíli is watching as he is taken to a cell of his own. A solitary one at that. Fíli and Kíli, it could be argued, are a little bit co-dependant. Not horrendously, but they have been watching out for one another over all the rest from the start, they are brothers after all, and in the life of a dwarf five years is not all that much of an age gap. So we can assume that Kíli does not really want to be locked up on his own, he is a social person regardless it would seem and I suspect that being alone would be a special kind of torture for him. He tries stalling. 

“Aren’t you going to check me? I could have anything down my trousers.”

I’ll give Tauriel this, she is quick witted and this is possibly one of my favourite exchanges of the films. Her reply; “Or nothing” is cool, a little bit cutting and gives no indication of any sort of interest at all. If anything, she seems a little exasperated with all the fuss the lot of them are creating and she simply wants to be done with it. Away Kíli goes and off she goes to report to her king.

Who proceeds to compliment her on her good handling of things so far, order her to make it better faster, reject her proposal for exterminating the source rather than simply dealing with the fallout and then tell her that no matter what else she has done, she is not good enough for his son. Oof. She hesitates before replying, stumbles her way through a response and seems genuinely upset about it. Regardless of whether her feelings for Legolas are of friendship or if she had been hoping for a little more as well, being told something like that had to hurt.

We next see Tauriel patrolling the cells. Some of the dwarves are making noise, most seem pretty resigned, Kíli is fiddling with his promise stone. Which he promptly drops and loses through the bars, only for it to be stopped by Tauriel who demands to know what it is. As you do. Kíli, as you do, replies that it is a curse stone and any who is not a dwarf who looks upon it will suffer greatly. I forget the exact quote, I could look it up but I’m not feeling quite that dedicated to making my point here. Tauriel hesitates. I will not say that she is alarmed, she seems to take his words with a pinch of salt, but she is definitely wary and we have to remember that she is a very young elf who has spent all of her life in Mirkwood. She has not interacted with dwarves, has no reason to have done so and so she has no idea if what he is saying is true or not. And we have no idea how many of the old stories about elves and dwarves she has heard, although we know it is enough for her to have a generally low opinion of them. Her hesitation is enough to cause Kíli to come clean, perhaps fearing that she will take this precious memento of his mother from him. You can see the moment that Tauriel decides to return it, the flicker of surprise that a dwarf would mention a parent with such apparent fondness and it makes me wonder what stories she has been told about dwarves and their emotions. Regardless, she gives it back and the two begin a conversation which starts with Kíli’s opinion on starlight and moves on to become centred around Kíli’s travels. 

It is a good, safe, sensible conversation which would ring no alarm bells. In fact, the only thing that hints towards the idea that we should be looking for a romantic angle is the shot of Legolas looking down upon them with a disgusted sneer. 

This is where I began to feel uneasy with the direction the story was taking. Legolas is clearly jealous, Tauriel has clearly been hurt by the callous words of Thranduil and there was, perhaps, a little bit of flirting going on between the bars. This is Kíli after all. One thing we forget, however, is that she is his jailor. She is in a position of significant power over him. Let us flip the genders. The one behind bars is female, the one who holds the keys and is showing a marked interest in her is male. This is a familiar trope, and one which many of us shudder back from due to the power divide and the vulnerability of the female character, no matter how kind the male one seems. Why, then, do so many of us ignore the reverse scenario? Why is it alright for a woman, or elleth, in a position of power over a male, and especially a young one who might well be looking for a way out and a way to keep his friends and family safe, to pay such marked attention to a male captive?

The answer, of course, is that it is very much not alright, but we let it slide because it is not the reverse and society seems to have this thing for women in power seducing helpless males.

So, they have got their flirt on, spent an unspecified length of time languishing in the cells and now it is time to escape. The book would have us believe that they spent a month or so in the cells and rode their barrels out with relative ease. No gates, orcs, arrows or chases through the rapids. I can understand the movies needing something a little more dramatic. It would have been a dull escape otherwise, but we can already see the shift in Tauriel when the dwarves escape, even though she has known them at most a month, and the film makes it seem like they have only been in there a day or two which is what makes her actions later make even less sense than they would had she known Kíli a month. She hesitates. Her prisoners have escaped, her king is going to be very displeased, and still she hesitates.

I refuse to get into the thing with the morgul arrow, I find it very hard to believe that Sauron would have allowed the use of those and thus tipped others who were not Gandalf, Saruman, Galadriel and Elrond off to the fact that he was on the move. I am not even entirely sure they were a thing in book canon which is neither here nor there. It is believable that Kíli would have been hurt, that is a risk in every combat situation, and I will leave it at that.

The dwarves escape and head to Lake Town with Kíli in increasingly poor shape, Tauriel and Legolas take an orc to Thranduil for questioning which results in the elf king ordering the gates sealed. He wants nothing to do with whatever quarrel is between the orcs and dwarves. I hardly blame him. Legolas and Tauriel both object at different times and get shut down, and Legolas goes to obey his father’s orders, only to realise that Tauriel has already run off after this bloke she hardly knows.

I love Kíli, I do, but at this point he holds about as much of a permanent place in her life as the bloke I started to play Dungeons and Dragons with three months ago does in mine. And she probably knows him about as well as I do that guy.

She is idealistic, young, desperate to see the world. I get that. It is as good a reason as any to want to go out there and save it given that she is, to borrow from Guardians of the Galaxy, one of the idiots who lives in it. But saving the world, or that corner of it, was not what set her off in Thranduil’s throne room. Being told that Kíli was going to die slowly and painfully was. As much as the scene argues that she is going out there to save the world because she believes that they have a responsibility to do so, she has also already shown that Kíli is one of her primary reasons.

Four years ago, my then four year old, looked at this whole mess and said “But Elsa says you can’t marry a man you just met”. Where she got the idea Tauriel wanted to marry Kíli, I do not know, but that observation stuck with me. 

Anyway, because this is getting rambling, stuff happens, the dwarves have a feast, Kíli gets left in Lake Town with Fíli while the rest go on to Erebor and Tauriel fights her way into Bard’s in time to get some athelas to heal Kíli, although not without a little bit of dithering about before hand as she tries to work out what, if anything, she can do to help him. It is not the first time we see the calm, collected and confident character we were introduced to take a backseat before she pulls herself together but it is quite prominent. Kíli, while being healed, spouts off some romantic gibberish about him and Tauriel being worlds apart from one another and wondering if she could have loved him. 

It is very sweet. It is also delirious ramblings. I have said some things while feverish and sick that have had my Significant Other raising his eyebrows at me. It is not meant to be taken really seriously. For all we know, five minutes before he might have proposed marriage to Óin or been hallucinating a fight with Smaug. It is sweet and romantic, as we might believe Kíli to be, but can it be considered a true declaration?

Incidentally, this part is one of the changes that makes me really quite angry. Fíli and Kíli were always supposed to be at Thorin’s side when they entered Erebor. He leaves Kíli, and therefore Fíli, behind with barely a twitch, and callously does so after making him struggle his way to the dock and the waiting boat in front of the population of Lake Town who are waiting to see them off. It raises questions about whether the gold obsession that plagues the line of Durin had already started to set in, but I think it was a decision made to give a greater sense of peril to the scenes in Lake Town when Smaug is razing the place. 

Either way, I do not like it. 

The morning after the night before dawns, Kíli seems none the worse for wear after his near brush with death, though we know that Frodo was heavily weakened after his own such encounter in sixty/eighty years, depending on if you book or film timeline it. He is saying goodbye to Tauriel and effectively tells her he loves her by calling her “amrâlimê” which most of us here know means something to the effect of “my love”. Watch Fíli behind him, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as though this is not the first time he has seen his brother act like this. Fíli is the Darcy to Kíli’s Bingley, except maybe this time it really is not love at all and Fíli is right to be wary and frustrated. It is also the time we see Kíli go from adoring puppy to murder hound in about 0.6 seconds with the arrival of Legolas. This time he is clearly infatuated, but I would still hesitate to say “in love” for a couple of reasons. The first is that they really hardly know each other, and while love at first sight is a wonderful idea it is not necessarily the strongest foundation for a relationship. Especially one with such incredibly strong Romeo and Juliet vibes. The second is that she has saved his life twice at this point. It is a known phenomenon that when someone does such a thing gratitude can be mistaken for powerful love.

In fact, Aidan and Evangeline have both reported to have said that had Kíli survived the pair of them would have very rapidly recognised that this is not love at all. It is gratitude and infatuation and not something which could withstand the judgement of both of their peoples.

Here, they separate, and neither mentions the other at all. Tauriel is cast out of Mirkwood, Legolas vows he will not return without her which is a whole other host of problems on its own, and they go forth to Gundabad to see what the orcs are up to. 

It is bad news, but then these things usually are.

Things go horribly wrong in Erebor, words and Arkenstones are exchanged, hobbits are nearly flung from very high places and battle commences while Dwalin attempts to knock some sense into a gold consumed Thorin. You can see why Kíli will not have had time to think about Tauriel at all.

With the battle joined, it is fight or die. Kíli is unaware that Tauriel is anywhere on the field, or that there is a trap waiting for him in that bloody tower and Tauriel… well she panics. Seeing that Thranduil is intending on withdrawing for the good of his people she stands before him and pulls a weapon on her king demanding that he stay and fight and help the dwarves. If not for the fact that Legolas comes and takes her toward Ravenhill I think Thranduil probably would have crossed a line into kinslaying right there and then. There is only so much disobedience and, frankly, treason one can endure from a subject before something more permanent needs to be done about them.

They get to the tower, Fíli is already dead and Kíli is desperately trying to hold his own against an ambush so that he can avenge his brother. And Tauriel, for some unfathomable reason, races through a tower full of orcs screaming his name. That… that is not how you do these things. At all. By doing that you draw the attention of every creature that is currently free to track you down and kill you. 

Moving on.

Watch them fight against Bolg together. They do not do it well. Kíli is fabulous next to Fíli, and probably Thorin and Dwalin and any other dwarf for that matter. He probably would not do too badly with one of the Men beside him but the elvish style of combat and the dwarf style are very different and it does not mesh well for these two who barely really know each other. Legolas and Gimli fight in many of the same battles, but rarely side by side and they are certainly more in tune with one another than these two are. In this case, Tauriel is definitely panicking and I wonder if she would have done the same if it had been Legolas she was fighting with. 

Somehow I doubt it.

Anyway, eventually they are overwhelmed, longing looks are exchanged and Kíli is killed. Tauriel breaks down to Thranduil who declares that it was clearly real love.

I just, there is so much wrong with this I hardly know where to start. 

A lot of time is dedicated to this addition. It drives a wedge between Thranduil and Legolas that we had no reason to suspect existed, it deprives him of one of his loyal guards and it does absolutely nothing at all to affect the outcome of the quest for Erebor in a positive way. It adds nothing to Kili’s death, it does not make it any more of a tragedy than it is in the book. In fact, if anything I think it takes away from it a little bit. For those not in the know, in the book Thorin is felled on the field, fatally wounded by Bolg who is then crushed to death by Beorn. Fíli and Kíli, who do not wish to see their uncle’s body taken and desecrated, and likely hoping that there was some small chance he could be saved, fight over him as guards until they are overwhelmed and die side by side before help can come. It is, ultimately, a terrible waste of their lives. Thorin lives long enough to apologise to Bilbo in one of the healing tents, much as he does on the side of the mountain in the film, and then he dies. 

So Tauriel has made no positive impact upon the outcome, it could be argued that her moment of hesitating to threaten Thranduil could have been the moments where she and Legolas might have reached the tower fast enough to save possibly Kíli, perhaps even Fíli, we will never know. What we do know is that the addition of the love triangle added extra time which could have been given to any of the rest of the Company, most of whom were given very little at all to do other than carry on in the background. We could have spent more time with Bilbo, who got shunted aside for the Legend of Legolas parts and, of course, the love triangle additions. We did not even get the funeral in the theatrical release!

It seemed to primarily be, well, filler. And the studio’s bizarre opinion that they were not going to get female viewers if they did not stick some form of romance in there. It seemed to almost be an attempt to mirror the Arwen, Aragorn, Eowyn triangle from the Lord of the Rings, except they missed the mark there spectacularly. Arwen knew very well what she was giving up in marrying Aragorn, and she ultimately made the same choice that her uncle had made thousands of years before as had her very nearly ultimate grandmother (bar Melian) before that. Tauriel could have had no concept at all of what she might have been tying herself to. And that does not even get into the political ramifications of it had Kíli survived, or if he and any one or both of Fíli and Thorin survived. 

This next is, of course, speculation, because we have no real way of knowing. 

Tauriel has sacrificed everything, her home and position for some dwarf she hardly knew. They think it is love, but in the coming weeks with Kíli dedicated to the mountain, whether alone as king or with his uncle and/or brother, distance begins to grow. Tauriel is an elf, she may have fought in the battle but she is still not completely trusted. Rumours from those who might have seen her interaction with Thranduil during the battle start to surface. Kíli might overlook them for himself, but could Thorin or Fíli? If they were to send Kíli to do something that Tauriel would not like, could they trust her not to do the same to them as she did to Thranduil? She owes them even less loyalty than she did him and she threw it all to one side in a heartbeat. If Kíli is the only one of the younger two who survived, where does that leave the succession? If he and Tauriel cannot have children together the throne is not secure, even if they could with all the millennia of bad blood between elf and dwarf will the general populace really accept a half elf on the throne? Especially one who might live forever. The answer there is very likely to be no, which will cause more problems further on and puts Dáin and later Thorin III Stonehelm on the throne again. So there was no point saving Kíli if the original timeline would come to pass anyway, if with a few more hurdles and a heap more unrest thrown in. In other words, it would cause a lot more contention than it would solve.

If they did grow apart, as the actors have stated they would, I think Tauriel would have come to resent Kíli for his role in her decisions, even though she was a grown elleth and perfectly capable of reasoning out possible consequences for herself. Evangeline says that Tauriel went back to Mirkwood after the battle and I suspect Thranduil forgave her out of pity and because he knew she had learnt a terrible lesson. I doubt, though, that she ever regained his trust, and I very much doubt she ever rose to any real position within the kingdom again. If Kíli had not died, I suspect her reception would have been less forgiving and more in the nature of “well if it isn’t the consequences of your actions” before being thrown from her home in disgrace.

Either ending is unhappy for her.

This whole diatribe actually makes it sound like I quite like the character, and there are some small parts of her that I do like. The film needed a strong female character, and this is perhaps one of the reasons that one of the more popular genderbends in the fandom is female Bilbo. Because either way, the story still works. And all the initial stuff with Tauriel worked. Her early interactions with Kíli, that snappy comeback which is actually a favourite because as a response to someone intending on unsettling her it is perfect, even that little bit of wanderlust that she lets seep out. Where it falls apart, and where my dislike stems, is the introduction of the love triangle, the huge power imbalance between them when it begins in the dungeons of Mirkwood, the fact that gratitude and love are allowed to blur over the line with no one questioning it. Except, perhaps, Fíli, who is the long suffering older sibling accustomed to his brother becoming infatuated with this or that pretty face or great warrior.

Had it been left at the wanderlust and the whole bit with the delirious confession been done away with, she could have still been great. Had she kept her head a bit better upon seeing Kíli fighting Bolg or even had a material effect on things for good I could possibly, possibly have overlooked how it all began. But that moment in the cells set my squick metre off and coloured my opinion of it from there. And even repeat watching has not helped me to see it in a positive light. It was filler, time wasting, and I find it hard to like a character who was introduced as someone that girls could look up to, and who became, instead, every cliché female love interest that I feared she would. They set her up, let her and us down, and as a result I prefer to pretend she never existed, or gloss over her entirely. 

And because people are always asking me what my problem with her is I’ve grown to despise her. 

Kíli is a grown dwarf, he is perfectly capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself. Tauriel does not manipulate him into having feelings for her, she seems to be made uncomfortable by the confession in fact, but just as he is capable of thinking for himself, so is she. And I question every decision she made from the moment she locked him behind those bars, because that is where the Tauriel that Kíli met in the spider’s nest begins to vanish. 

She could have been a great character and she did not need a love interest, or to become one, for that to happen. The studio handled her poorly, and that is why I would prefer to ignore the fact that she, and that stupid love triangle, ever existed.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: As a staunch royalist I would be interested to hear your views about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle deciding to quit the British royal family. Did they do the right thing or are they just being selfish and ‘woke’? Does this ‘Megxit’ the British royal family is in crisis and its future looks bleak by this act of betrayal to the Queen?

Short answer:

I have been avoiding answering this question precisely because I became tired of hearing about it around the family dinner table or with friends when I visited England recently or now with French friends here in Paris who can’t fathom what is going on. But too many have asked about this in my blog inbox.

I don’t mean to sound so dismissive but to me it’s just a passing storm in a tea cup rather than some cataclysmic crisis of the British monarchy. Everyone should stop take a deep breath.

After the joint press statement by Prince Harry and the Duchess of Sussex statement came out on 8 January 2020 it set in motion the usual hilarious pastiche of Cold War Kremlinology by the British press.  So at any one time you had sensationalist and sanctimonious headlines such as the fury of the palace press knew no bounds. How dare they? The Queen humiliated. The palace insulted. And so on and so on.

Every newspaper editor knows there is a yawning gulf between the “public interest” and what interests the public. By any standards, Harry and Meghan have become huge celebrities. They were idolised, their charities blessed, their presence craved. Unfortunately such is human nature, the public invest something of themselves in their heroes. They see in their idols a reflection of their own fantasies and delights, hopes and fears. When they witness celebrities traumatised it can be unsettling, as the death of Princess Diana vividly showed. People cried in the street.

As Harry knew from his mother’s tragic experience, all this is par for the royal course. The British newspapers - or rather those peddling in royal tittle tattle such as the Sun, Mirror, and the Daily Mail - have a habit of erecting pedestals one minute and then the next minute they enjoy destroying the icon in the name of the public interest. Andrew’s former wife, Sarah Ferguson, was appallingly treated. So at times were Princess Anne, and Prince Edward’s wife, Sophie. Press attention should be water off the royal duck’s back. Prince Philip’s advice was reportedly: “Don’t read the bloody papers.”

While Harry was brought up surrounded by the furies of the celebrity media, Meghan’s career was the opposite. In her profession as a known actor (albeit a middling TV actor at that), image is an artifice, daily crafted and laundered by publicists.

This does not work with British royalty, which comes with its own carefully minted image attached. Its rituals are those of mind-numbing deference. It has no accountability. The only mirror it has is the press. The tabloids are the price that must be paid for adulation. They honour no discretion and have no sense of fairness. The press is a memento mori, whispering into the victor’s ear that he – or she – is only mortal. And gosh do they take that role on with sanctimonious glee. 

To be daily compared to the Duchess of Cambridge, from an utterly different social background, must have been intolerable for Meghan: the dress comparisons, the stuffiness of the court, its hyper-caution and obsession with precedence and procedure, added to the impossibility of contact with ordinary people. As a self-made millionaire already perhaps she wanted to be more than a mere civil servant in a tiara. Perhaps it proved too much but who really knows? But then I don’t know what else she expected when she decided to marry into the British royal family.

Similarly one can only speculate how much it was really Prince Harry who wanted to drop out riding on the royal carousel as he has been since birth. Regardless of who he married perhaps this was always the plan. His loathing of the British press and paparazzi is well known - he still blames them for his mother’s tragic death in Paris. It’s well known the paparazzi have tried to catch him out in manufactured scandals as he grew up. He has refreshingly come clean and has talked about how he still goes to therapy over his mother’s death. It’s no wonder he would ever subject a future wife and especially a child to the level of press intrusion that he had endured.

Prince Harry is nobody’s fool. I won’t say a bad word about him because - unlike previous and present royals with the exception of his grandfather, Prince Philip, who did active naval service during the Second World War and his uncle Prince Andrew, who as a naval officer flew Sea King helicopters during the Falklands War - he didn’t play the ceremonial toy soldier. After Eton he worked his arse off to get through Sandhurst and got commissioned with the Blues and Royals regiment. Upon the outbreak of war in Iraq, he was alleged to have said around 2006, “There's no way I'm going to put myself through Sandhurst and then sit on my arse back home while my boys are out fighting for their country.”

As it was the military chiefs got cold feet and pulled him out. But he did see active service with the British forces in Afghanistan with two tours. By all accounts he acquitted himself very well as a Forward Air Controller in Helmand Province and later as a co-pilot and gunner on Apache helicopters. He was widely respected and accepted by rank and file because he was down to earth and never asked for special treatment.  He wasn’t a typical ‘Rupert’ - a squaddie’s nickname given to British army officers who typically came from privileged aristocratic backgrounds but were also ‘nice but dim witted’.

Overall I sympathise that the Sussexes’ predicament was clearly desperate, and it is perhaps to their credit that they have brought it to a head early and not let it drag on. I feel they are sincere in their reasons to ’step back’ from the royal family and frenzied media circus around it. The fact they want to pay their own way and pay back any outstanding sums back to the royal household is perhaps a sign of that sincerity.

Instead some sections of the British press rolled out the tired old trope of the parallels between the Duke of Sussex and his great-great uncle, the Duke of Windsor, are overwhelming. Once again, a dashing, sporting, ex-military prince leaves royal life for the love of an American divorcée. This is exactly the opposite of what Edward and Mrs Wallace Simpson did when they bit the hand that fed them. They took money to support their lavish lifestyle in exile from the Queen and all the while took every opportunity to snark the fledgling young Queen from their own alternative royal court in Paris. Harry no doubt loves his grandmother and his family and would try not sully the Windsor name.

Where I would be critical a little is in their handling of it which appears naive at best and inept at worst. I suspect - since verified - that having a transatlantic split of publicists, and in addition didn’t understand the full import of how this would play out, would inevitably drop the ball. But I would extend a finger of blame to the palace courtiers who were involved in their own games of intrigue with a whispering campaign to selected journalists of the press. Indeed multiple newspapers, including the Daily Telegraph in the UK, reported that the queen was “disappointed” with the surprise announcement, and had asked the Sussexes to hold off on issuing a public statement. When The gossip mongering Sun newspaper published a front-page story that the couple was contemplating a move to Canada, the Sussexes pushed the button on their statement.

I do think the Sussexes  and their advisors were fooling themselves into thinking that they could have their cake and eat it - in other words keep the royal titles but cut back on the public and ceremonial duties. The blunt truth is if you want to stay on the books, you do so by the leave of the firm and its boss i.e. The Queen. The contract is for life. If not, you resign. There is no half in and half out. This seems to have been the gist of the family only summit at Sandringham in January 2020, with media attention worthy of the Treaty of Versailles.

I am frankly surprised how worked up people are about this. Cut out the white noise and the picture is more prosaic.

The first point is that when all is said and done, none of this drama really matters. Politically, constitutionally, it is an irrelevance. Harry, at number six, is not seriously in line to the throne. The British monarchy has long shown itself immune to crisis; indeed I wonder sometimes if it welcomes crises as implying continued importance. The divorce and death of Princess Diana were awfully tragic, as was the very public shaming of Prince Andrew and his questionable friendship with billionaire paedophile Jeffrey Epstein. But how Harry leads his life is between himself, his wife and his father, Prince Charles. That is the point of heredity. It is immune to character, as it is to merit.

The second point is we should remember that other European royal families, of the same constitutional status as Britain, have been down sizing for many years now. These royal families balanced privacy and discretion whilst holding down ordinary professions. The King of the Netherlands, Willem-Alexander, is still an airline pilot. He occasionally flies KLM jets, safe in the knowledge that few people recognise him. In 2001 Prince Haakon, heir to the Norwegian throne, married a single mother with a drug-fuelled past. Despite some controversy, he survived incognito. 

The King of Sweden, Carl XVI Gustaf, has reigned for 46 inconspicuous years as a nine-to-five job, his family merged into the Swedish bourgeoisie. The Crown Princess, Victoria, works intermittently for the UN. The King of Spain, Felipe VI, may have taken after his philandering father, Juan Carlos, but he became king without fuss on his father’s retirement in 2014. None of these “houses” has an extended state-subsidised royal family. None has grown unstable as a result.

There is no doubt that the exploitation of the British royal family celebrity by palace courtiers as PR handlers has worked. The royal family recognises that truth for itself when HRH King George VI famously quipped, “We are not a family, we are a firm”. The Queen is regularly cited as central to “UK plc” and to tourism. The British people remain overwhelmingly in favour of retaining monarchy as the focus of their patriotism, even during the wobble over Diana’s death. Republicanism is dead. The last ostentatious republican, the Fife MP Willie Hamilton, left parliament in 1987. If Scotland ever went independent it would almost certainly retain the Queen as head of state.

As for how royalty behaves, a constitutional monarchy should be beyond all controversy. As the great political and constitutional commentator (and founder of the Economist magazine) Walter Bagehot put it, “the monarch should be a dignified rather than efficient element of the constitution”. In other words, the monarchy as personified in its reigning king or queen can represent the whole nation in an emotionally satisfying way - everything else is but pure embellishment.

The Queen must be a glorious anthropomorphism of the nation as a whole. If she has opinions, she keeps them to herself - much to her credit. The contrast is clear with countries where state headship is combined with an elected executive presidency. The state risks being tainted by partisanship: witness the embarrassment many Americans feel at having their national loyalty identified with any president based on divided partisan feelings e.g. from FDR to Obama and Nixon to Trump.

A rare occasion when the monarch might overstep the mark was conjectured by Mike Bartlett in his ingenious play, King Charles III, in 2014. It was based on the present Prince of Wales as king, refusing formally to sign a bill censoring the press (good on him). In the resulting crisis, William and Kate engineer Charles’s abdication, while the tearaway Harry takes up with a republican girlfriend. It was not wholly implausible. When Belgium faced a similar crisis over King Baudouin’s refusal to sign an abortion bill in 1990, he was allowed to abdicate for a day.

How the monarchy conducts itself is not wholly irrelevant. It is part of the collective context in which the nation’s politics are enacted. It represents tradition and upholds precedent. It sets boundaries and dictates a courtesy in the conduct of public affairs - however often that courtesy is infringed. What outsiders forget (especially our American friends) is that the British political system is gloriously resilient, as the past three years of Brexit hell have shown. It can tolerate the odd eccentricity, such as the blatant purchase of parliamentary seats in the House of Lords. But the question is how far such eccentricity can extend. 

The present heir to the throne, Prince Charles, is deft at stepping mildly out of line. His views on architecture, health and the environment are not overtly partisan. But it does not matter as he is no more “powerful” than a newspaper or television commentator. His influence is that of celebrity. I would rather have the heir to throne engage intelligently in public debate than arrogantly indulge in the sordid sexual antics of his younger brother, Andrew.

For all his perceived faults, Prince Charles knows his limits. To expect such controlled nuances in the constitutional mystique of royalty to apply to an ever larger family has always been an accident waiting to happen. More prescient is the fact that the current system will impose the same disciplines and direct the same public exposure on an ever widening array of royal offspring as the years go by. I feel genuine sympathy for the royal children. Most British minors have their faces blanked out on camera, but not royal ones. They are sentenced to be recognised for life.

As a nation then we are extremely fortunate that Prince Harry is no more militant than in defence of the planet, wild animals and injured military veterans - all worthy causes if we are honest to admit it. Full disclosure: as an ex-veteran, I do give charitable donations to Invictus Games Foundation, the multi-sports event put on for wounded, injured or sick armed services personnel and their associated veterans. Prince Harry was instrumental in founding the Invictus Games in 2014 on his own initiative so that we never forget the courage and sacrifice of our military veterans.

What is already clear is that the Sussexes intend forthwith to redraw the lines of engagement with the press. They are opting out of the Royal Rota, the arrangement whereby, for decades, the royals have given access to a pool reporter from the national papers; instead, they will invite coverage from personally selected media outlets and will use their own social-media accounts, especially Instagram, to communicate directly with the public. Having railed against the media’s commodification of his wife, Prince Harry now seems prepared to take its commodification into his own hands: it was reported in January 2020 that he and the Duchess have lately submitted a trademark application for hundreds of items, from clothing to printed items, that may be issued with the couple’s personal brand, Sussex Royal.

This step is unfortunate and unedifying. To my mind, Sussex is a title, not a brand name. It is no more Harry and Meghan’s to exploit than Buckingham Palace is the Queen’s to sell off. Even if they distance themselves from the monarchy by being financially independent (as well as disowning their titles) by pursuing other commercial opportunities it only takes one scandal - e.g. a goods with their brand made from sweat shop labour or some other unforeseen PR disaster - to reflect badly on the Queen and the British monarchy solely because of Harry’s proximity to the throne. Harry may not be a Prince but he is a Windsor.

We are back to Bagehot again. For it was he who argued that the constitution was divided into two branches. The monarchy represents the “dignified” branch. Its job is to symbolise the state through pomp and ceremony. The government -Parliament, the cabinet and the civil service - represents the “efficient” branch. Its job is to run the country by passing laws and providing public services. The dignified branch governs through poetry, and the efficient branch through prose. The monarchy certainly doesn’t govern through commercial exploitation of its brand as an end in itself.

Today, the dignified branch is trying to adapt to an age of populism and until recently it’s been doing a much better job than the efficient branch. But the monarchy must never lower itself to the lowest common denominator to satisfy the base instincts of populism. As Bagehot aptly said, “An element of exaggeration clings to the popular judgment: great vices are made greater, great virtues greater also; interesting incidents are made more interesting, softer legends more soft.”

A family spat of no public importance is obsessing the nation and the world. Everyone should sit down and have a nice relaxing cup of tea.

[mysticprima]

Spider-Man Homecoming Thoughts

People may not want to read if you haven’t seen Spider-Man Homecoming yet, but I’ve just seen the movie last night and I’ve gotta say, wow! I thought it was a brilliant movie! I’m not saying it was perfect in every way, but there were so many things they got right this time and I am so happy they seem to have done a good job of rebooting the Spider-Man franchise.  Anyway, this is just me sharing some of my thoughts on the movie.

*SPOILER ALERT*

1. Tom Holland as Spider as Peter/Spidey Perfect casting choice and great acting from him all around. Tom’s Peter is exactly how I imagine a young Spidey to be. He isn’t obnoxious, too much of a nerd or too cool (like Garfield was), but he’s is still an introverted kid, kind of nerdy, not to mention cute, adorable and most importantly, relatable. Prior to this movie, I always thought Toby Maguire did it best, but Tom is definitely the one true Peter Parker for me now (other than Drake Bell as my fave Spidey VA but that’s another somewhat controversial rant in itself). I loved how Tom really captured the spirit of a young Peter. He gave an incredibly realistic take on the character as being a young, scared kid underneath it all with a huuuge responsibility, but he is still having fun with his powers and reacting as you would expect a kid to do. I actually found his performance very credible.  One question, though. Did Peter have Spidey sense in this movie? I don’t recall it being showcased or mentioned. 

2. Marisa Tomei as Aunt May - I am a huge fan of Ultimate Aunt May, so it goes without saying that Marisa Tomei’s Aunt May is my favourite version too precisely because she is shown here to be a character who has her own life which doesn’t just revolve around Peter. It was a good casting choice.

3. Zendeya as “Michelle”. For the record, I really liked Zendeya’s character. Loved her tomboy look and she had a lot of sass and one liners in the movie. She was generally a great character. However, I did have some issues with this character, particularly surrounding what she reveals at the end of the movie. Okay, so she is called Michelle Jones which, I get, is “MJ” for short. Fair enough. But if Michelle is “MJ”, then why not just call her Mary Jane? I wouldn’t have minded if they had had just done what they did with Flash who is obviously a very different take on his character, but at least they still called him “Flash”. Michelle’s personality could have easily fit with a cooler and nerdier Mary Jane, similar to kind of how she is in Ultimate Spider-Man comics and cartoon, so I don’t know why they had to invent this “Michelle” character, who is the “MJ” of this universe. Like I said, I don’t dislike their take on the character. I’d take her to Kirstin Dunst’s Mary Jane any day of the week, but why “Michelle?”

4. Robert Downey Jr as Ironman and Tony and Peter’s relationship – Robert Downley Jr was great (as you’d expect), but it goes without saying that having Ironman and his relationship with Spidey feature in this movie was one of the highlights. Now that Peter is finally in the MCU universe, we get to see the dymanic between them on the big screen and it is perfect. I’m a big IronSpider fan and this movie did not disappoint. There was so many great Tony + Peter moments to appreciate such as the awkward “hug” scene, Tony giving Peter a lecture after the Statten Island Ferry incident and Tony comparing himself to his own father while lecturing Peter. There were so many other cute moments between them and so many feels, needless to say I love the Tony/Peter dynamic of Tony as the mentor/older male figure who pretends he’s too cool to care and Peter as the teen who idolises and wants to be like him. At first I was disappointed that Peter did not make his own suit, but actually I can now see how it made more sense that Ironman was involved. At least Peter still made his own web fluid. It was more realistic, I guess. But yeah, loved seeing Ironman and Spidey in this movie. 

5. Michael Keaton as the vulture. We actually have a great bad guy for once in Michael Keaton. Having a strong villain is just as important as having a strong hero and this is something the other Spider-Man movies have previously lacked (with maybe the exception of Otto in Spider-Man 2). Usually in Spider-Man movies, they either try to cram too many villains in at once (here’s looking at you Spider-Man 3) or the villains are just plan forgetful (I honestly cannot remember who the villain was in Amazing Spider-Man). Keaton, on the other hand, did a great job. There is also that great scene where the twist is revealed and the characters come face to face. You can actually see the fear and shock on Peter’s face when he realises who The Vulture is outside of costume. When I was at uni, my tutor (a professional writer who writes scripts for various UK TV shows) once said how in every great action movie, there always have at least one scene where the hero and villain come face to face off the battlefield, where there is a moment of understanding between them.  This really was one of those great moments which made this movie so much better because of it. 

6. Other supporting characters, such as Ned Leeds, Flash and Liz – I felt the supporting cast was mostly good. My initial worry is that Ned was too much like Ganke. To be honest, I still think that’s the case, but I can see how he was a nice addition to the movie and a funny character who was actually useful to the plot. I’ll be honest about Flash. I hated this take on Flash, mainly because I have always associated Flash as being a jock but then, as it has been pointed out, this movie is trying to move away from stereotypes like the “big dumb jock” and “preppy girl.” Liz was fine as the beautiful but smart girl who has depth. I’ll be honest, I do not like Liz as Peter’s love interest in any universe, but she played her role well enough. Flash…well… I’m still not sure about Flash to be honest, but I see what the writers we’re trying to do and I’ll give them a nod for that. But the true star of supporting characters was Happy!! Can we talk about HAPPY?!!!

7. Conclusion

Overall I thought it was well written, well acted and entertaining as far as superhero movies go. It has it’s flaws, but it is so much better than the mess that was Amazing Spider-Man (in my opinion) and it provides a much more up-to-date version of the character which was needed. There are some things I might have liked to see, like maybe a quick cameo from J K Simmons as J Jonah Jamerson, even if they had just flashed his face flash on the screen like they do in The Ultimate Spider-Man Cartoon.  I for one am glad we didn’t get a repeat of the same story with Uncle Ben and the Osborns. It will be interesting to see where the series goes next.