#so much of the shire region is just Weird

[sesamenom]

I wonder what part of Rivendell's protection is Turgon/Gondolin-inspired, on top of the Bruinen basically acting as a proto-Girdle?

looking at the map, the actual valley is mostly enclosed by the Bruinen, with the Trollshaws on one side and the Misty Mountains on the other.

the Map of Wilderland gives a bit more detail in the region, particularly around Mirkwood/Beorn's house. from here, it looks like the Eyries were somewhere around the Misty Mountains a bit north of Rivendell:

for comparison, here's Gondolin and Doriath:

the FA-era eyries seem to mostly have been around the Crissaegrim/Cristhorn area enclosing Gondolin, while the Girdle followed the approximate shape of the rivers around Neldoreth and Region, and Lorien's Girdle seems to kick in at around the Nimrodel:

so it makes sense for a potential Girdle of Rivendell to lie around the Bruinen, especially given Elrond's apparent control over the river (despite having Vilya and not Nenya - maybe it's an Ulmo/Earendil's Star derived thing?)

I don't think we've explicitly seen anybody trying to get into Rivendell and just getting lost at the Ford, so it's probably more of a manual Girdle: it doesn't actually stop people from finding the river itself, but Elrond gets a mental notification or something and can flood the river to wash intruders away.

Beyond the Ford, it does definitely sound like the travel time to Rivendell varies. This (plus the varying road length/road time) can probably be attributed to the time warping effect of the Three, like a weaker but much larger version of Lorien's time related stuff.

so basically it seems like there's a combination of the Bruinen acting as both a manual Girdle, plus the time distortion between the Ford and Rivendell, as well as possibly hiding Imladris in a similar way to Ulmo hiding Gondolin?

A bit of a theory that I’ve struck on while rereading the start of FOTR. I think there’s something guarding Rivendell besides the Bruinen. I think Elrond has taken a leaf out of Melian’s book.

There are some hints that the distance to Rivendell varies depending on who you are. Frodo starts approaching the Ford in late afternoon; he is in desperate need of healing, and is brought to Rivendell midway into that same night.

In The Hobbit, in contrast, the dwarves and Bilbo cross the Ford of Bruinen in the morning, and the sun is down by the time they reach Rivendell. There’s lot of references to the journey being longer than Bilbo would expect:

They came on unexpected valleys, narrow with steep sides, that opened suddenly at their feet, and then looked down surprised to see trees below them and running water at the bottom. There were gullies that they could almost leap over, but very deep with waterfalls in them. There were dark ravines that one could neither jump over or climb into. There were bogs, some of them green pleasant places to look at, with flowers growing bright and tall; but a pony that walked there with a pack on its back would never have come out again. It was indeed a mich wider land from the ford to the mountains than you would ever have guessed. Bilbo was astonished.

Then there’s Aragorn’s line when Merry asks him how far it is to Rivendell:

“I don’t know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond The Forsaken Inn, a day’s journey east of Bree. Some say it is far, and others say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad to meet their journey’s end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen.”

(By the way, it always amazes me, now I’ve noticed it, that the hobbits manage this journey - which Aragorn says would take him 12 days on the Road, with “fair weather and no ill fortune,” in only 14 days with Frodo severely injured, travelling mainly off the Road, and with some bad weather and wrong directions. Some of that’s due to the extremely fast pace Glorfindel sets for the last twoand a half days, but it’s incredibly impressive.)

If anyone should know the distance from Bree to Rivendell, it should be Aragorn, a Ranger of the North fostered in Rivendell, who has probably covered that journey dozens to hundreds of times. And the Road is fairly straight; it shouldn’t be hard for travellers to keep track of the general distance. And also, Aragorn only gives the distance to the Ford, not to Rivendell itself. What if the distance and difficulty of the Road from the Ford to Rivendell varies, based on how well a guest is known. Frodo is the Ring-bearer, in desperate need; he makes it there fast. Thorin & Company are vouched for by Gandalf, but are largely an unknown quantity; it takes them the better part of a day. Someone with hostile intentions might never find Rivendell at all, even after days of wanderings.

[walruna]

New Writeblr

Hello world.

I'm fairly new to Tumblr and I can't wait to connect properly with the whole Writeblr community since it's the main reason I joined this website.

About me: I am 20 year old Italian biomedical engineering student with a burning passion for writing fantasy stories and novels. So far I've only properly finished and published one of my WIPs in 2015 and since then I've struggled to find the time and inspiration to create something again. But now I'm determined more than ever to keep my passion burning - and that's why I've decided to find a proper community to keep myself motivated and inspired! Since I'm not so keen on sharing names on the world wide web just yet, for the meantime I go by Walruna (or Wal, if you want) on here and I use she/her pronouns. Some more random things about me: I speak three languages (Italian, English and French), I've been practicing Japanese Ju-Jitsu for five years now and I used to have a weird obsession witb ancient Egypt which led me to have a very extensive knowledge of Egyptian archaeology by the age of 8. I am also a lesbian.

My current WIP(s): my current project has been in my head since 2017 and has kept developing and evolving its worldbuilding and characters so much so that it's probably become self-aware at this point. "Skån and the Titans of Warulven" is a high-fantasy/scifi novel centering on Skån, a Walruna - a native species to the planet of Warulven - and Knight of the Order of the Chasm, a para-military Order founded - and funded - by the government of Hegren, the nearby planet that colonised Warulven nearly a hundred years ago in search of a new supply of raw materials for construction. The life of a Knight is a simple one: guarding the Easterns Shires of Hegrenian settlers, sedating riots in the West of Warulven, or simply patrolling "The Chasm", the sigil that keeps the Titans, Warulven's old magical rulers, trapped in a never-ending slumber underneath the surface of the planet. But times are changing rapidly, weird events are shaking the stability of the Order. A mysterious Plague has been driving Walrunas of the Order crazy with terrible visions of a long gone past. In the midst of chaos, when Skån finds out that her long-lost brother and mentor Dalskar, a Plague survivor, is alive in the Eastern regions and that a salty Titan adolescent trapped in the dungeons of the Order knows his whereabouts, she's officialy ready to do what she does best: fuck it all up in an amazing rescue quest.

I hope this snippet of Skån [pron. skon] has intrigued you somehow! As you can imagine, I am writing in my native language at the moment (that would be Italian), but I strive to connect with writers from all over the world therefore I don't mind translating some bits of it if necessary.

if you're curious about this story or just want to chat, hit me up!

Thanks for making it to the end of this post!

[shiinata-library]

Arthur, at your service! [1/8]

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6 // PART 7 // PART 8

Relationships: Thorin x You (Modern girl in Middle Earth)

Content: Fluff, angst, rated T

Summary: You come from our world and arrive just before the quest for Erebor. You will accompany the company pretending to be a boy, yell at Thorin and all of Durin's heirs will survive.

On AO3    -    Version française

Note: English isn’t my native language, so I’m sorry for the mistakes!

Chapter 1: The journey

- “What is that...”

When you hardly open your eyes, you see trees waving with the wind above you. It's daytime. The sun is light but pleasant. You are lying in the grass and wait a few moments before sitting up. Where are you? You don't recognize this place. You end up standing up. You have no idea how you ended up in the middle of this forest, but the most important thing is to know where you are. The village you see in the distance will certainly be able to help you.

After thirty minutes of walking, you arrive in a strange village. Everyone is dressed like in the Middle Ages. Are they making a movie? You don’t dare approach and you observe from a distance. A long time passes and you don’t notice a camera or anyone in the movie business. Weird. Looking more closely, you can see people are acting normally. Some of them discuss and others move from one place to another. You try to get closer to a group of people, without being seen, to hear their discussion. Their words sound implausible but at least you speak the same language, since you understand them. It's reassuring! You recognize names of people or places belonging to Tolkien's universe.

- “Don't tell me I’m in Middle-earth and I have to save the world? Either I drank too much or I'm dreaming …”

Believe it or not, you are alone in a medieval village and the sun is starting to set. It's too late to ask someone to host you. You wait until it gets dark to steal two or three fruits from a garden. Lucky for you, the air is comfortable enough to sleep under the stars. As you settle down to sleep under a tree, you see your clothes from your world on you. It's not dressed like that you'll go unnoticed here.

You approach a garden and spot clothes drying. These are men's clothes but it will be perfect for traveling. Even if the thought of flying bothers you, you have no choice in your condition. Out of sight under your tree, you change and keep only your shoes of your world. Dressed as a man, you take a piece of fabric to wrap your chest. You also tie your hair with a hairband from one of your pockets. You are fortunate to have a fairly young face and with a little mud, you could pretend to be a young man. Alright, it's time to sleep.

.

The next day, you start your journey with some fruit in your pockets. Suppose you are really in Middle-earth, you need to find out what time period you are. So the best would be to find the Shire and then Bag End.

After several days of walking in the forest or on small paths, you arrive in a region that seems more welcoming and prosperous. Do you really find the Shire by random walking? Well, yes. It's not the smials you see in front of you that will tell you the opposite, or even the hobbits walking around nibbling fruits. Fields, farms and fruit trees as far as the eye can see. At least, you won't go hungry. You have no money, but you are starting to develop good techniques for stealing vegetables. The truth is, you hate doing it, but you have no choice. Anyway, new objective: find Bag End. If it's pretty big, you shouldn't have a hard time finding it, right?

Except the Shire is bigger than you might think. One evening when your foot starts to hurt, you try to steal some tomato, but a hobbit farmer surprises you. You apologize flatly explaining yourself but he doesn’t listen to you. He even threatens you with his pitchfork. You’re not going to die because of an angry hobbit with a pitchfork, right? Right?!

You take some tomatoes and run as fast as possible. You end up stumbling and falling flat on your face on the ground. Even in Middle-earth, dust tastes bad. You defend yourself by apologizing again and you see the hobbit make a face and lower his pitchfork. He insults you at you before leaving. It's only when you stand up that you see a man behind you. In truth, he isn’t a man. He's a muscular, bald, scary looking dwarf. By instinct, you take a few steps back.

- “G-good evening. I took some tomatoes because I had nothing to eat. I-”

The dwarf's growl silences you. He tells you to follow him. You don't know if it's a good idea but you end up following him.

After a few minutes of walking, you can't believe your eyes. Bilbo, the young and fresh hobbit Bilbo Baggins, opens the door for you. He's not happy to see you walk into his home. You finally understand what time you are in. You have arrived at the start of the quest for Erebor with Dwalin. You know what you have to do: join Thorin's company to save him and his nephews. Nothing more simple...

You sit down at the table. The other dwarves gradually arrive and you watch the scene with a smile. They are curious about you. Dwalin explains he found you hungry on the way. They leave you alone while you devour everything in front of you, even though you see Fíli and Kíli dying to come talk to you. The truth is, you are waiting for Gandalf to arrive. When he walks in, you can't help but smile from ear to ear. Eventually he notices your presence and approaches you with a questioning eye, all the dwarves are watching you both.

- “A surprise guest?” - "I found him on the way stealing tomatoes from the fields," Dwalin replies. - “Ah um, yes …” you articulate in a voice you force to make it deep. - “And this guest has a name?” the magician asks.

A name? Oh, dressed like you are, you need a boy's name. You quickly search and find the first name coming to mind when you see a sword against a wall.

- “Arthur! My name is Arthur, at your service!”

You spoke a lot louder than you wanted. Fíli and Kíli burst out laughing. You ignore them and all the dwarves greet you, even if you see their uncertain gazes staring at you.

The evening’s events quickly come one after another. You've found it hard to look other than Thorin since he entered. It is more impressive than you think. When Balin gives Bilbo the contract, Gandalf speaks so that you are also part of the company.

- "It's out of the question," Thorin said firmly. - “Nothing happens by chance, Master Thorin. If Arthur has made it this far, there is a good reason.” - “I don’t want your wealth,” you begin. “And I think Gandalf is right.” - “I do not-” - “I'll protect myself. I know what to expect and I won't bother you.”

Thorin looks at you, growling, and Gandalf raises a questioning eyebrow. The other dwarves remain silent and await Thorin's response.

- “You don't know what to expect. A weakling like you won't survive a day in the Wilderlands.” - “I will survive. Don’t worry,” you smile. “If anything happens to me, it's absolutely not your responsibility. And I don't have any family that can blame you.”

Thorin is staring at you. You won't let go until he accepts. Gandalf reiterates his request once again and Thorin ends up accepting your integration into the company.

...

The journey continues. Since you had nothing to go on such a long and complex journey, Gandalf bought you something to survive on such as a blanket, a bag, etc. During the trolls’ attack, you wisely stay by the fire since you know they will come out uninjured. You even get a dagger in their cave! You don't know how to use it but you never know.

In Rivendell, you are as impressed by the place as by the elves. You keep a low profile? You don’t want them to find out that you are a woman or that you are from another world.

On the other hand, the goblins and then the pursuit of Azog really scared you! You really thought you were going to die! Even if you don't ask them, the company can't help but protect you. Maybe because you look as weak as Bilbo.

At Beorn, you can finally rest. You don't know how, but as soon as Beorn saw you, he looked like he guessed you were lying about your appearance. Lucky for you, he didn't say anything. You suspect Gandalf and even Bilbo understood this too, but they don't seem to have told the dwarves about it. So much the better!

Once in Mirkwood’s dungeons, you become serious. Until then you were a spectator of this adventure but now you have to intervene. There is no way Kíli would be injured by an orc arrow! Before getting into a barrel for the escape, you grab a lid from a barrel and call Kíli to join you in your barrel. Some dwarves look at you strangely but they let you. You've had the whole trip to come up with plans to keep them all alive!

The escape’s scene by the river looked more fun to see than to experience. Now arrows are brushing past you, orcs chasing you to kill you, and the handsome elven Prince doing everything to lock you up in his dungeons, it's not fun! As soon as Kíli rushes to open the passage, you step out of the barrel with him and protect him as best you can. When the passage opens and the dwarves begin to descend the river, you feel the famous orc arrow sticking into your makeshift shield. You hope you won't be called Arthur Barrelshell now!

- “Kíli! Jump and join your brother!” you yell pointing to Fíli who has been shouting her brother's name for a long time. - “And you?!” - “I follow you! You will catch up with me! Hurry, otherwise-”

By protecting the young prince, you forgot to protect yourself. You are cut off in your discussion by an arrow crashing into your arm. Kíli jumps and you join him without waiting. The adrenaline from the escape keeps you from thinking about the arrow. On the other hand, when the fight is finally over and you arrive in front of the lake, the arrow reminds you of your mistake.

Kíli helps you to get out of the barrel. Óin rushes towards you and takes the arrow away from you. You have never had such pain in your entire life! The dwarf healer quickly applies an ointment and a bandage to you as Thorin is in a hurry. But Bard intervenes first and you all end up accompanying him to Laketown.

...

Bard kindly accommodates you at his place. Upon your arrival, Óin takes you to a corner to inspect your injury. Kíli also stays close to you, feeling guilty for what is happening to you. You are very pale and you are losing a lot of strength. Kíli would have resisted for several days, but you're only human, you're not going to last long. Óin asks you to take off your top to clean the wound. His words are like an electric shock on you. During the entire trip, you managed to keep the company at a distance when you went to wash up, under the pretext of being public and they believed you and respected your request. When Óin sees you squeeze your jacket, he understands and takes you to a room alone.

By removing your jacket and shirt, Óin then understands what you are. More than surprised, he takes a few steps back but you hold him back and beg him not to say anything to the other. He hesitates for a long time and ends up accepting. Phew! Now isn't a good time for news like this! Once your jacket is on the ground, you hear a noise reminding you that you had stolen a healing balm from the Rivendell’s elves, in case your plans did not work as intended. You thought the Mirkwood’s elves had taken it from you when you searched, but no! How do we say? Ah yes. Thanks, Mahal!

Óin applies the balm to you which soothes you quickly. You aren’t being healed either, but you should survive. When you come out of the room, Bofur and Kíli rush towards you to ask about your condition.

- “He's fine,” Óin begins, looking at you, making you understand that he's not happy to have to lie. “Arthur, kept from us he stole a balm at Rivendell.” - “We will have to calm this stealing habit, Arthur!” Bofur jokes. “One day, it could turn against you.” - “It was so tempting!” you smile. “Besides, we could very well have needed it if someone was seriously injured!” - “Like you, for example!” Kíli exclaims. “You shouldn't have come with me!” - “If I hadn't, you would have been hit by that arrow,” you say seriously. “I didn't want to put up with Fíli who would whine because his brother is injured!” - “Hey!” the concerned intervenes, approaching your group. “And how did you know Kíli will be in danger? You seemed to prepare well with your barrel lid.” - “You always have to be prepared to protect the princess in danger,” you joke when you see Kíli getting angry. - “How did you know, indeed?” Thorin cut your jokes. “It's strange to be so well prepared.”

Thorin walks up to your group and all the dwarves are watching you. How do you get out of it? Bilbo? Gandalf, help me!

- “Oh it's because I see the future. Um,” you say, pretending to think with your eyes closed. “I see you will get upset in a few minutes!” - "What an idiot!" Thorin shout, walking to Dwalin. “This human is a waste of time!”

At the start of the journey, you were scared to see Thorin getting angry but now you are enjoying yourself inside.

The stay in Laketown continues until the morning when the company leaves for Erebor. You accompany them to the boats knowing you are going to stay here. You can't let the people here die. They don't realize it, but you smile at the sight of Fíli and Kíli getting into the same boat. You approach them and signal them to approach you.

- “You two,” you whisper. “If anything happens to me, promise me to always stay with your uncle ; even if he orders you to go in exploration.” - "It’s quite precise," said Fíli, raising an eyebrow. - “Promise me you idiots!” - “Hey, you're the idiot! Why are you telling us all this ?” Kíli asks. - “Because I'm not coming with you. I'm staying here for now. My injury hasn't healed yet and someone needs to take care of Bofur.”

In front of your insistent gaze, they end up promising what you asked them without conviction. When you step back to let them go, some will look bad on you. To reassure them, you yell at them in the distance that you will join them later until Bofur joins you, half awake.

.

After they leave, you will find Bard to explain to him what will happen: the dragon will wake up and he will be locked up while Smaug destroys the city. Doubtful at first, he ends up accepting what you tell him. He waits at home with his children until orcs arrive in the house. Legolas and Tauriel intervene and recognize you and Bofur. You are sorry for her that Kíli isn’t here, but they will have a better chance of seeing each other again, and in better circumstances. Bard leaves his house with the Black Arrow and his son as soon as they feel tremors.

Everything happens very quickly, you run away to the lake shore with the children of Bard and Bofur, like all the inhabitants of the town. Bard obviously succeeds in killing Smaug, who is incredibly scary to see even from a distance. Hoping as many lives as possible have been saved, you take the road to Erebor with Bofur. Direction Erebor. The hardest part remains: Thorin will have to come to his senses and none of Durin's heirs must die during the battle.

.....

>>> PART 2 

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #471

Top Ten Settings for a Stardew Valley Spin-Off

Have you played Stardew Valley? It’s great. It’s this sort of farming sim-cum-RPG where you move into a dilapidated old farm and have to turn it around, selling lots of produce and turning a tidy profit. But as well as tilling soil and milking goats, you also have to mosey on down to the local village, befriend the curious townsfolk, repair the battered old community centre, and eventually settle down and get married. And on top of all that, there’s a really weird Lynchian mystery, with monsters in the mines and wizards and witches and a war between dwarves and some kind of race of shadow-people. It’s bonkers and it’s delightful and it’s incredibly, incredibly dense. It’s like a cross between a casual mobile game and six seasons of a prestige fantasy drama.

However good the game is – and it is very good – I never really got too into it. Possibly because in its structure I see too much of the “just one more turn” ethos of Civilization (time passes in days and you can only save when you go to bed, but every morning new stuff has happened or new crops have grown, so you always want to get up and see); as I’m already in the grips of a crippling addiction to the world’s greatest strategy game, injecting more of the same into my veins is a recipe for disaster. Fortunately, my wife got addicted instead, and since the recent console update, we’ve been able to play together in co-op.

So anyway, the long and the short of it is I’ve been playing it pretty much every night.

Whilst I’ve been playing, I’ve been thinking of ways the game could be expanded. Not necessarily improved, but just sort of… spun off, in wild and exciting new directions. A different flavour of Stardew. New settings, new options, new challenges. Do you remember “total conversions”? When teams of modders or developers would essentially build an entirely new game out of an old game? Happened a lot with the Quake and Half-Life engines back in the day; I think it might even be how Gearbox got started, if I remember rightly. Anyway, how’s about a Stardew Valley total conversion? Something along these lines. It’d be good fun at any rate! So let’s play Stardew Valley…

…on Tatooine: you play a moisture farmer with a small place just outside of a bigger town – maybe someplace a bit smaller and friendlier than the likes of Mos Eisley and Mos Espa. You have to install moisture vaporators, buy droids to maintain them, trade with passing Jawas, and fend off Sandpeople attacks (unless you can learn their language and befriend them, Mando-style). Romance townsfolk! Save up enough for a new speeder! Take your T-15 down Beggar’s Canyon to bullseye womp rats! But seriously, the idea of farming in an entirely inhospitable location, and farming in a way that’s not done at all on Earth (except maybe you can also breed whichever animals make the blue milk), is really interesting.

…in the Wild West: you get to be an old-timey rancher out in the West. Are you growing corn? Are you raising cattle? Build yourself a cozy farmhouse. Get one of those windmills going. Basically, you’re creating the Kent Farm in Smallville. Perhaps this could go a bit more serious and look at the relationship between the settlers, townsfolk, and the indigenous people; maybe you could try to get everyone to get along? Or just make it stereotypical and wildly offensive. Godless meets Little House on the Prairie.

…in the Vampire Apocalypse: basically Stardew Valley by way of I Am Legend. There’s no romance here, you’re the only human. During the day you farm, you gather, you build; at night you hunker down as wave after wave of vampires attack. But just like in the book, there’s a deeper, creepier, much sadder mystery to unfold. I mean, this is probably the best possible adaptation you could make of I Am Legend, especially as presenting in a top-down pixel art style would rob it of any sensationalism.

…with Pokémon: you’re always shoving Pokémon in creepy breeding centres in the games, right? Well what if this was basically a Pokémon farm. You have to build specific enclosures for the different Pokémon, make sure they’re well treated, and also grow sufficient crops and foods to keep them happy. Your ultimate aim is to sell the Pokémon themselves (or their produce, I guess) but you can also sell what you grow. And, of course, you can wander into whichever little village in Kanto or Galar or wherever it is we set the game, and have your usual mild RPG entanglements and romantic sub-plots. Meanwhile Team Rocket are trying to mess up your lovely farm. The dastards!

…at the North Pole: kinda similar to the Tatooine farm, this has you managing a remote outpost in the freezing wilderness. Barely anything can grow outside so you have to construct and maintain habitats to farm indoors, and rear animals, etc. You can trade (or romance!) local indigenous people, befriend penguins, and ride polar bears, which I assume is a totally realistic thing to do. On top of all this there could be other research projects to complete and the opportunity to expand the station itself. If you explore far enough, you find a crashed UFO buried in the ice, but whatever you do, don’t let it anywhere near your dog…

…in Yorkshire: basically not much different to Stardew as it exists now, but it’s set in the UK. I think very specifically a small North Yorkshire village. Think of the comedy accents and regional humour! This is the sort of thing Team 17 could have made a lot of headway with in the nineties. You’d be growing and harvesting typical British crops, dealing with eccentric British townsfolk, encountering Sunday bikers and car boot sales and dancing round the May Pole… the more I think about it, the more it should basically be a Wicker Man game, to be honest.

…in Bedrock: farming great big huge caveman crops! Building big rickety stone houses! Driving cars with your feet! And – of course – rearing dinosaurs. Dinosaurs! Think about it: everything would have to be bigger and chunkier and funnier. Maybe you could invent fire or the wheel, or something. Who owns the rights to Chuck Rock? Because if the Flintstone people aren’t on board, this could be a great way to bring back a classic gaming icon.

…during the War: sorta similar to the Yorkshire Farm game above, but specifically set during WWII. I guess this is a more serious sort of game, but the added complications of rationing and a reduced workforce (I think maybe you’d have to hire land girls or something?), making produce for the army and stuff, would add a lot to the gameplay. Perhaps there could be bombing raids, blackouts, and maybe even enemy spies to deal with. All this combined with older technology could be interesting.

…on Cybertron: a totally different way of farming. Imagine: you’re in charge of an energon farm on one of Cybertron’s moons. You have to harvest energon from the ground and then convert it; there could be different energon ores and different ways of converting them. You could also drill for nucleon or something, or rear turbo-rabbits, sharkticons, and scraplets (but don’t let them get loose!). Meanwhile the war is brewing down on the planet below, and eventually you have to decide if you can remain neutral, or if you have to pick a side.

…in the Shire: on the one hand, it’s a fairly straightforward pastoral game, similar to Stardew as it exists now; plant seeds, grow crops, rear animals, do up your farmhouse. But your farm is in the Shire, you’re a hobbit, and everyone else is a hobbit. Grow pipeweed and learn to blow smoke rings! Expand your hobbit hole by digging further into the hill! Go into the Green Dragon and romance the barmaid! You can go adventuring, befriending wizards like Gandalf or Radagast, making friends with dwarves and maybe even meeting elves and men… but if you do, your hobbit neighbours might think a lot less of you. Man, now I really want this game! It sounds fantastic!

So there we are. Ten possible Stardew spin-offs. This started as a fun exercise and ended with me inventing a game that I want more than any other game that exists. This is crazy. Someone make me my gentle hobbit social RPG… please?!

[absynthe--minded]

Okay I'm just being weird again, but I just sort of accidentally started wondering, when the dwarves took Erebor back, how far were the effects felt? Because I mean once it had obviously been a great place and I always got the impression that kings of even more faraway lands would, like, commission stuff from them. But already by the time Hobbit happened, I'm under the impression that a lot of places had sort of closed off, not dealing with most of the world, only 1/?

Okay! So.

In terms of the effects, the most obvious one to bring up is the fact that the Dwarves retaking Erebor and working with Bard to re-establish Dale meant that the War of the Ring didn’t wind up with the north being basically devastated. I know this isn’t what you were asking about, but it’s one of my favorite story details, so I’m gonna bring it up first, and below the cut because it’s Long.

Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings has this to say about Erebor and Dale:

In the late summer of that same year (2941) Gandalf had at last prevailed upon Saruman and the White Council to attack Dol Guldur, and Sauron retreated and went to Mordor, there to be secure, as he thought, from all his enemies. So it was that when the War came at last the main assault was turned southwards; yet even so with his far-stretched right hand Sauron might have done great evil in the North, if King Dáin and King Brand had not stood in his path. Even as Gandalf said afterwards to Frodo and Gimli, when they dwelt together for a time in Minas Tirith. Not long before news had come to Gondor of events far away.

‘I grieved at the fall of Thorin,’ said Gandalf; 'and now we hear that Dáin has fallen, fighting in Dale again, even while we fought here. I should call that a heavy loss, if it was not a wonder rather that in his great age he could still wield his axe as mightily as they say that he did, standing over the body of King Brand before the Gate of Erebor until the darkness fell.

'Yet things might have gone far otherwise and far worse. When you think of the great Battle of the Pelennor, do not forget the battles in Dale and the valour of Durin’s Folk. Think of what might have been. Dragon-fire and savage swords in Eriador, night in Rivendell. There might be no Queen in Gondor. We might now hope to return from the victory here only to ruin and ash. But that has been averted - because I met Thorin Oakenshield one evening on the edge of spring in Bree. A chance-meeting, as we say in Middle-earth.’

We get a bit more information in Appendix B:

At the same time as the great armies besieged Minas Tirith a host of the allies of Sauron that had long threatened the borders of King Brand crossed the River Carnen, and Brand was driven back to Dale. There he had the aid of the Dwarves of Erebor; and there was a great battle at the Mountain’s feet It lasted three days, but in the end both King Brand and King Dáin Ironfoot were slain, and the Easterlings had the victory. But they could not take the Gate, and many, both Dwarves and Men, took refuge in Erebor, and there withstood a siege.

When news came of the great victories in the South, then Sauron’s northern army was filled with dismay; and the besieged came forth and routed them, and the remnant fled into the East and troubled Dale no more. Then Bard II, Brand’s son, became King in Dale, and Thorin III Stonehelm, Dáin’s son, became King under the Mountain. They sent their ambassadors to the crowning of King Elessar; and their realms remained ever after, as long as they lasted, in friendship with Gondor; and they were under the crown and protection of the King of the West.

I love this because it’s a whole story that never gets talked about, and honestly? The Men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor deserve all the badass cred they get. And I LOVE the mental image of Dáin standing over Brand’s body refusing to let any of the orcs get at it. It’s a crime that we don’t see more art of precisely that moment. To me it’s one of the most iconic scenes in the whole of LotR.

I also like what we see in Appendix B because it’s reminiscent of what Fingolfin did in Beleriand with the Noldorin kingdoms, creating a system where he was High King but autonomous regions with their own royalty and cultures entered into voluntary alliance with him and became part of a greater federation. The idea of Dale and Erebor as successor kingdoms to Nargothrond and Gondolin is a really cool one to me.

But. You were asking about trade.

Trade in a post-Arnor north is hard. We do know that there were dwarf-made goods that were intended for sale or at least for use elsewhere, as when Bilbo gives away birthday presents many of them have maker’s marks that indicate they came from Erebor and they were delivered by dwarves to Bag End. We also know that there was some measure of export trade from the Shire, and that pipeweed made it at least to Isengard, we just don’t know what that looked like. The problem that this account presents is that it’s from the point of view of people who really didn’t have much to do with pan-continental politics; as a result we get a good story with fascinating details at the margins. How does trade in the North work? Are there peddlers and traders whose job it is to travel and sell? Do goods only get exported when people want specific things from specific regions? We just don’t know. Whatever

That being said, we do have more detail about region-specific trade. We know that Laketown traded with Mirkwood, and we know that Erebor also did prior to the dragon; it doesn’t stretch credulity to assume they restored those relationships once Smaug was gone. Mirkwood is near to Lothlórien, and so I would not be shocked if dwarf-made goods were present in Caras Galadhon either.

The tl;dr is that the canonical cross-continent exports we see are specifically ordered by someone (Saruman and his Old Toby, Bilbo and his dwarf-crackers and toys) but it’s not impossible at all that Erebor’s products made it as far as Mithlond. Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth isn’t a stretch at all.

[datingdecisions]

Cameron Highlands

This weekend, we rented a car and drove north to the Cameron Highlands: a mountainous region known for its tea and strawberry farms.

The landscape is, as promised, absolutely picturesque. But the town itself is pretty bizarre. Clearly focused on tourism - as evidenced by the many, many hotels - yet much of it looks like this.

Our hotel was also... weird. Its simultaneously grand yet rundown appearance gives strong "haunted mansion" vibes. The elevator, which you can clearly hear from the hotel room, makes a persistent dinging sound that may have been used in a Stephen King movie. Our room was cold, so I called the front desk to ask for an extra blanket and they just said no and hung up. There was a child playing in the hall at 5am ("but Sam, that child's been dead for 40 years!").

Overall, a rather strange and creepy place. But because we were already here and lack genre awareness, we decided to press on with our weekend plans.

One of the main attractions here is the Mossy Forest: rated by the Lonely Planet as one of the world's prettiest forests. We drove as far along the narrow, steep road as our little rental could go, then ditched it and continued on foot through the tea fields.

"This is the furthest from the Shire I've ever travelled, Mr. Frodo!"

The path continued to slope until our hike became more of a climb. It turns out you can hire a guide with a 4-wheeler to take you up there. In fact, you are very much supposed to. But the guard grudgingly let us continue to the top on foot.

And here it is: the Mossy Forest! The mist that collects at this altitude allows unique fauna to grow, and gives the area a mystical appearance. From the boardwalks, you can look out onto the province of Pahang on one side, and the province of Perak on the other.

The fog was rolling back in as we made it to the top of the lookout tower.

On the way home, we tried to take a "shortcut" back to the car that wound up going directly through some greenhouses. That was the weirdest place yet. Absolutely covered in garbage, but also carefully tended plants? Just very, very strange.

We were worried we might be trespassing, and we encountered one guy in a truck who we thought might tell us off. But instead he just said, "Mossy Forest not there." I guess he immediately clocked us as tourists and therefore not a threat. The happiest sight of the day: our rental, right where we left it.

[enrychan]

so after 146+ hours of the witcher 3 i’m starting to understand why i like this game but i don’t love it and i’m not so into it like so many people are. i probably think about it waaaaay to much, but since the game had a ton of perfect scores from many reviewers i wanted to understand why it didn’t click so well for me. and I mean, on a purely rational point of view the game is incredibly good and lovingly crafted in every detail, from the writing to the graphics, from the soundtrack to the animations.... it’s all really good. so why can’t i bring myself to love it?

- the first problem I have with the game and with the series as a whole is... uh, geralt. i don’t hate him, and sometimes i love his dry humor, but for the most part he is too generic and bland and also, well. a man. a straight white guy like 145482554 other in every video game ever. the dialogue options are also very few. this is a “role playing game” (in theory) where the role is not mine to play at all. granted, in other RPGs there is only the illusion of choice, but it’s there. i can play along. with geralt the confines are way too restrictive, and the role the developers impose on me is too different from myself and/or whatever character i would like to create, for me to enjoy the experience as i should

- then there are the women and how they are treated in this universe. first, all the women geralt has some relationship with are apparently top models, and all have the same kind of beauty: white, skinny, perfect hair, perfect face, small nose, plump lips... you get the idea. i love Yen, I adore Ciri, and i like Triss, but honestly they all look like barbie dolls to me. on the other hand I can’t remember even one male character of some relevance so perfectly and conventionally attractive except maybe for geralt himself. but this is not even my biggest issue with the women in this game, my biggest issue is how they are treated by the narrative. from beginning to end, a lot of female characters are violated, brutalized, humiliated... men experience violence for a variety of different reasons but women are constantly targeted for their femininity and/or their relationship with men. that’s honestly exhausting after a while. especially for a person who had and still has very serious problems within the family like me, and plays games to escape - not to face other similar situations all over again in a fucking video game

- there is almost no diversity at all. I get that this land is supposed to be similar to medieval europe, but black people and brown people were always there, they were just much less represented in art. in the witcher 3 everyone, and i mean everyone is as white as snow. the only poc i remember were the ofieri from the hearts of stone dlc, and they are extremely few. also no LGBT at all. like I remember I met a character i thought was gay at some point, but then nope. the writers made sure he had his chance to clarify that he wasn’t gay, because that’s important

- the sex scenes are shoved down your throat, and sometimes that’s even detrimental to your roleplaying. I wanted my geralt to stay faithful to Yen, but the hearts of stone dlc almost forced me to accept the sex with Shani. like i rejected her a number of times in a number of dialogues and STILL the game insisted to put me on those rails - in the form of gaunter o’dimm of all people - telling me to “seize the day” or whatever. what’s worse, just minutes before the ghost of vlodomir von everec called geralt “a pederast” because I choose the dialogue option “she’s just a friend”. that’s... some pretty bad and offensive writing right there, for my standards? is it just me?

- the last point came to my mind only recently, while playing the blood and wine dlc. toussaint is aesthetically amazing, and it made me realize that for my taste, the entire game should have been like this. and I don’t mean “set in a fairy tale world”, i mean “set in an interesting world”. that’s one of the reasons why i love The Lord of the Rings and its movie adaptations so much. you get your epic scenery, high snowy mountains, enchanted forests, a beautiful white city built on seven levels, an immense, desertic region dominated by an enormous active volcano.... but even its most “domestic” set, the Shire, has beautiful bright colors and weird little houses with round doors. the diversity keeps the public engaged. i have a lot of problems with dragon age inquisition but for the first time in the series it gave me something like that. for the first time i actually thought “thedas is wonderful and diverse, i want to see more”. on the other hand, the witcher 3 has way too much muddy countryside to do that. for me, fantasy must be wondrous, it must transport you into another world, a different world. it must make you look at a landscape and feel emotions you would never feel irl. obviously that depends a lot on where you live. i imagine someone who lives in the US would feel very differently from me. but for someone like me who lives in europe and specifically in italy... pretty countryside and small/medium medieval towns are extremely common. they don’t make me go “wow”. toussaint finally gave me that, it made me think “this is amazing” and “I want to stay here”. too bad it’s only a DLC and not the entire game.

and that’s about it, more or less. this post is much longer than i intended, but whatever. i still like the game. these are just a few but unfortunatly kind of important issues that ruin the experience for me, at least in part. it makes me kind of sad because i adore the rpg genre so TW3 is so close... and yet so far. I hope CD projekt red will do better with their next game, even in areas they didn’t consider much in TW3 like diversity and respect of the player when it comes to romantic/sexual matters.

[southcoastfires]

Happy New Year!

I think the thing that surprised me most was how deluded we were. The Currowan fire was enormous, bigger than anything anyone had any experience with. The longer a fire burns, the hotter it gets, and this had been burning for weeks. I knew it was dry, you could see it on the ridges - they were browning off. Not dead, but getting there. We’d been mountain biking frequently up the back of Maulbrooks Road, to the west of Mogo. We knew it was crisp-dry. 

I had checked the fire prediction map the night before, and even though it showed ember attack on the eastern side fo the highway, I still could not believe that suburbs like Malua Bay or Catalina would be affected. They were just too….suburban. Yet, when I look at the map now it’s clear that Malua Bay, Tomakin, Broulee, Rosedale etc.,. lie at the eastern end of a huge, uninterrupted tract of bush directly to the northwest, bush that had an active fire in it, a fire that had been burning for weeks, in unprecedented dry conditions. These brick and tile suburbs, with their lawns and trampolines and boat trailers, were basically at the end of a gun barrel. 

Map showing the track of the NYE fire

It took days to get information about the local area. I could call anyone in any city on the planet on the landline, but no-one closer than Nowra.  

Eurobodalla Council had run a campaign leading up to Christmas to get Canberra holiday makers back to the coast (they’d been staying away due to the smoke and threat of road closures). Now the Kings Highway from Batemans Bay was closed, the Princes Highway was closed and the only way out was to the south. Many were now stuck in the region with kids, caravans, trailers and boats. The trouble was, there was no fuel. All the petrol stations had fuel but no power to pump it with. It took a couple of days for generators to reach Moruya, under escort through the road closures, in order to pump fuel. Canberrans had to drive up Brown mountain through Cooma, the road was later closed due to fires in that area too. 

Moruya Heads, New Year’s Day. The smoke and ash prevented communications and radio, as well as blocking out light for solar panels. 

We drove the 8kms to T’s Dad’s place. His house, like many others locally, is off-grid and relies on solar. He had about one day before his power, that also operates his water pumps, ran out, as the ash coated his panels and also prevented sunlight. T climbed up on the roof and cleaned the panels and then we went home. We had water, a flushing toilet, solar hot water but no power.  We told our daughter it was like camping but in your own bed.  

It was OK. We bought a couple of boxes of veges off our neighbours from Queen St growers, one for us, one for T’s Dad and partner. We had rice, eggs, pasta, lentils, a substantial metho stove with fuel and an Engel fridge in the van that we stopped using once we ran out of milk. 

Our diet was a little more vegan than usual - each morning I made porridge with coconut milk, chopped almonds and honey, and we ate a lot of beans and veges for the rest of the meals. We had two cars, one of which was in town with a full tank of diesel, the other at home and running on fumes. T’s work van had half a tank and sat in the driveway, slowly being filled up with tools. 

Neighbours dropped in and told us they’d ‘circled the wagons’ at the evacuation centre at the Moruya showgrounds, and camped together, but that it was noisy, unhygienic and there were dogs roaming everywhere. Our next-door neighbours returned home from the evacuation centre, offering us their generator powered fridge if we needed it. 

I went into town to Southlands (grocery store), which was letting people in on a one-in one-out basis. Outside I ran into friends and neighbours who’d left the Heads and were staying in town, all with friends. We hugged and caught up with each other. She told me that there was no fuel, batteries or hoses left at the hardware store. She'd been on an unsuccessful hunt that morning for a P2 mask.

Inside the grocery shop was dark with the power still out, but the food was fresh as they’d loaded up their old refrigerated truck as the fires came through. I didn’t buy much - we didn’t need much - just some avocados, passata and a bit of fruit. Nearby there was a long queue outside the pharmacy, people who I was told her waiting for their methadone. They waited more than three hours for the doors to open. 

While I was in town my phone got a bar of service and I checked Instagram. A good friend who lives just outside Bega posted about the Cobargo fire, and how many friends had lost their homes. It was the first sense of the magnitude of the fire that ripped eastwards through Cobargo at dawn on New Year’s Eve. 

After two and a half days we managed to get ABC Illawarra on the car radio. It was only then that we heard that about 400 houses had been lost in the 20km of suburbs directly to our north, and estimates of another 400 lost in the Bega Shire. It was unbelievable. 

I heard a couple of interviews, one who was a career firefighter who described the fire as more fierce than anything he’d ever seen, creating its own tornado winds and just levelling everything in its path. The bush was so dry that fires were able to get hot enough to become weather driven (instead of fuel driven). This meant they could burn across open paddocks, burning little more than just the air ahead of them. He was describing fireballs that travelled across open country, at the speed of the wind. 

We heard more stories from people further north, stories about people running for their lives onto the beaches at Malua Bay. People driving to a beach and then realising it didn’t have enough sand between them and the flames. People jumping into the surf at Rosedale and almost drowning in the big southerly swell running. I heard that rest home residents abandoned their  ‘emergency place’ - the dining room - and started hosing down the burning debris that landed up against the buildings.  

Many people had moved to evacuation centres, but the toilets at the Showgrounds were on an electricity operated pump system, and quickly failed. UOW’s campus at Batemans Bay was used as an evacuation centre for elderly residents from a couple of local rest homes. They sat in their wheelchairs for hours, while the temperature inside the building rose. There was no air-conditioning and no ability to open the windows, or even the main front door. Once the front door was manually opened it had to be manned by a security guard to stop people who weren’t elderly evacuees from entering. 

I heard later that the elderly sent to the UOW campus were there because the evacuation centre at Hanging Rock, opposite the UOW campus, was overflowing. There was nowhere near enough chairs, so many elderly were sitting outside on the concrete. I also heard that many of those evacuated were ‘on oxygen’ and arrived at the campus with their O2 lines connected to their noses and masks, waiting to ‘plug in’ to the O2 at UOW. However, UOW Batemans Bay does not keep oxygen readily available. So, there were elderly people sitting in wheelchairs, requiring oxygen but with none available. One witness told me that an off duty nurse said, ‘These people will start dying in a matter of hours without oxygen’.  

Ten day’s later, I was at a dinner with friends when a woman told me that Andrew Constance had visited the UOW campus and called the premier, Ms Berejiklian and told her she needed to get the people out of the campus or else it was going to be on the front pages of every newspaper in the country. Multiple ambulances collected the evacuees and took them back to their respective rest homes. This woman was proud of Mr Constance for his decisive action. 

Another person at the table said, “So the state government ignores climate change, then ignores the immediate warnings about a bushfire catastrophe, doesn’t plan anything at all and then when it all turns to shit on their watch, one of their team gets to ride in a look like a hero for saving the day?”

It was one of many, many tense conversations in the weeks that followed. 

Many stories we heard were also inaccurate. We heard that Mogo was completely gone, that Mossy Point was completely on fire, that Broulee itself had lost hundreds of houses. We heard that the Princes Highway was still burning at Bimbimbie and would take months to be repaired. I managed to text a friend and colleague who lives in Catalina. We have another colleague and friend at Jeremadra, and I was very worried about her. The text came back - she’s OK and we think her house is still there. 

This was what it was like - we’ve lived here for many years, we know thousands of people. There was also the brutal knowledge that the southerly that ‘saved us’ would most definitely have spelled disaster for others. It’s a terrible feeling of weird relief and guilt.  

And every night I’d make sure the phone volume was turned all the way up, in the hope that one of my city friends might call the landline if we didn’t receive an emergency text. Our neighbour left their south facing windows open so they’d be woken by any glow that might appear on the hill behind us. I woke many times every night and stood outside looking for glowing red or orange to the north of or south. 

At some point the state government issued a state of emergency but that meant nothing to anyone as far as I knew. There was still no power and no communication.

A neighbour came down for a coffee and said he was worried about all the junkies drying out. We laughed and talked about everyone going a bit mad and paranoid. This was not helped by the numerous stories of looting going around, as some suburbs were evacuated and people weren’t allowed back in once they’d left. 

Always, ALWAYS make sure you have the ability to make coffee

For three days after NYE the RFS was issuing extremely serious warnings about the coming Saturday (the 4th). As everyone gradually started to see and share images of the destruction on whatever limited communication they had, the panic started to set in. 

The suburb remained fairly empty. NYE was a Tuesday. We were warned by the RFS on the radio that Saturday was the real danger day. Our neighbour came by and told us the RFS wanted everyone out of the Heads for the 4th. 

This was not a mandatory evacuation, and we were told to place our recycling bin outside the house to indicate we were home. Days later I saw another neighbour on the beach. She asked if we’d gone to the community meeting in town on the Friday before the ‘Saturday fire day’. I said no, we didn’t know anything about it. She said, 

“If you’d been there there’s no way you would have stayed. They told us that the RFS would not be defending the Heads at all, and that they were only going to defend the town (Moruya)”. 

Lucky we didn’t go to the meeting then!

We kept checking the forecast leading up to Saturday - it showed an early northerly and then noreast for our place. We started to feel a little more confident - a strong NNE would likely be more onshore for us at the coast, protecting us to the north. The Fire Spread Prediction Map showed us as the only tiny little avenue of untouched area. This was comforting but we were also aware of how inaccurate the previous NYE map had been, showing Malua Bay etc.,. as untouched and yet they burned.

We decided that I would evacuate into Moruya the night before with the kid and the dog, and T would ‘stay and defend’. It was a mad few days prepping the house. T cut sheets of corrugated iron for all the doors and windows, rigged up a watering system, cut down many of trees and branches. We packed everything we felt we ‘couldn’t live without’ into the cars and the van, including two huge tubs of Lego. 

Days later, when we finally felt like we could unpack everything, I found this little message written next to the windowsill in our daughter’s room;

We moved all the cars into town, leaving T at the house with his electric mountain bike. There’s only one road into the Heads, and it’s flanked in sections by bush. T thought that if that road was cut, or the road to the beach was cut he’d have a better chance across the paddocks or through the bush on his bike. And with that, we waited for our second “fire day”.