#thought it would be fitting to post her after the daughters of aragorn

[merilles]

Fíriel, fair as an elvish maiden, daughter of Barahir, and Princess of Ithilien. She was offered a spot on the last ship sailing into the West by Galdor, Círdan, and Celeborn but she felt the mud between her toes and refused, for her place was on the earth where she was born.

[hacash]

Too Much Information

"I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

The Fellowship share. Rather too much. In which Gandalf is cagey, Merry and Pippin are shameless, and Boromir finds out more about the Fellowship's personal lives than he wanted to know.

[also available on Archive of our Own]

(based on this post; probably not to be taken too seriously)

-

“Posey Greenfields does not count.”

“Does so.”

“Does not.”

“How, may I ask, does she not count?”

“I saw you at that party, Pip, and you were soused off your face. Utterly crocked. I should say she took advantage of you, more than anything.”

“Took advantage? I was giving her the advantage, and very willingly too!”

Boromir eyed the bickering cousins with more trepidation than he might an orc’s nest. Trust me, Elrond had advised the day he’d arrived in Imlradris, you might hear them talking and think you wish to know the conversation. In these moments it is best to turn around and walk the other way.

Delicately he coughed, meeting Legolas’ eye. “Do I want to know?”

The elf grimaced. Owing to his renowned elvish hearing it seemed he had caught every word: but going by Legolas’ disturbed expression Boromir suspected this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “No. No you don’t.”

Recklessly Boromir plunged on, approaching where Merry and Pippin were setting up their bedding for the night. “Gentlemen?”

Two twin beady gazes turned on him.

“Context, please?”

Ignoring Legolas’ muffled groan and face-palm Merry turned about cheerfully, eager for a new participant – or, as Boromir was beginning to suspect, victim. “Ah, yes! You see, to kill time Pippin and I were discussing some of our more pleasant encounters back home when life was simpler and remembering some of our most enjoyable companions – ”

“Sex stories,” Boromir repeated with dawning understanding, unable to keep the horror from his voice. “You were swapping sex stories.”

“Exactly! Only Pippin insisted on counting one time with Posey Greenfields when he’d gotten into his father’s best sherry – Michel Delving’s finest, it’ll turn you cross-eyed – and I was telling him that didn’t count because he was in no fit state to make a decent showing.”

Pippin was looking so proud of himself, it was almost indecent.

“But…I thought you were a child?” Boromir demanded.

“Excuse me? I’m a tweenager.”

“You’re a deviant is what you are, Pippin,” Merry said.

“I’m an unfettered adventurous soul, lacking in fear.”

“Lacking something is certainly the way Mrs Goodchild described you when she caught you and her Iris at it in the barn that time. Your breeches, for a start.”

“You’re not of age, is what I meant,” Boromir interrupted, before his brain started producing images his stomach couldn’t handle.

“Hobbits often start courting far before they’re of age, sir.” Taking pity on the unfortunate Man, Sam approached with cups of stewed nettle tea. “It’s common enough to start when you’re about sixteen, seventeen years old. Of course, it’s less common to wed before we’re of age – ”

“Thirty-three!” Boromir exclaimed proudly.

“Yes, sir, very well done,” Sam said in a soothing tone. “Which gives any courting couple a nice long while to get to know one another proper. Of course, there’s those as might not wish to wait that long – ” Merry did the universal sign for a swollen belly behind Sam’s back, “but to have your son or daughter wed afore they’ve passed twenty five – well, it’s considered a bit tacky, if you get my drift? Not allowing them a proper chance at life afore they settle down.”

“And by ‘proper chance of life’ we mean…”

“Studying a trade, spending time with friends, practicing how to keep house – ”

“Or in Merry’s case: learning how to do it in a rowboat without capsizing,” Pippin interjected.

“Ah, discussing Salvia Chubb, I believe? As I recall you told your mother you’d caught a fish so large it had pulled you clean from the boat, and that was why you were soaked through and Salvia’s shimmy all tangled up in duckweed.”

Boromir nearly inhaled a mouthful of his wine at Frodo’s sudden appearance. He might have imagined that the last thing the two younger hobbits would want when discussing their depravity was the audience of their elder cousin, but Frodo just regarded the conversation with exasperated amusement.

“You shouldn’t listen to these two, Boromir,” the Ringbearer advised. “They’ll blister your ears off and then some with their sordid tales. My uncle Saradoc would have been at his wits’ end with Merry, save that half his tricks Merry likely learned from him.”

“Hey now!” cried Merry. “I won’t have such slander repeated before friends. There was a time when Frodo Baggins was considered quite the rascal of Buckland, Boromir, and don’t you forget it. If I have ever engaged in pranks, scandal, inebriation or debauchery, chances are I learned it from him!”

“Debauchery!”

“Downright,” Merry repeated, “debauchery.”

Frodo drew himself up to his full height and glared at his unrepentant cousin through narrowed eyes. “I admit to overindulging on Uncle Sara’s port or filching a basket of mushrooms on occasion, Meriadoc, but I object to the implication that I have ever debauched in my life.”

Sam and Pippin’s gazes flickered back and forth between the other two as if watching a game of chequers; Boromir’s cooling nettle tea was abandoned at his feet. Even Legolas was listening intently. Merry merely snorted, leaning back on his haunches as if to prepare for the master stroke. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Cousin, you remember when you left for Bag End I got your old room?”

“I do,” Frodo said stiffly, “and I fail to see the relevance.”

“Well, what you may not recall is you left plenty of odds and ends behind – mathoms mostly, old clothing and books and whathaveyou, and I found some rather interesting articles under your bed from your last years in Buckland. Some rather interesting journals, as it turns out.”

Seated beside Frodo, Legolas was lucky enough to get a good look at the Ringbearer’s face as the significance of this news dawned upon him. It was quite a spectacle, he had to admit. He’d never actually seen someone turn white before.

“You didn’t.”

Merry smirked. “It ended up proving quite an education when I was a tween, I must say.”

“…journals?” Boromir asked weakly.

“I forgot to mention: Melilot Brandybuck asked me to pass on her fondest and immense well wishes,” Merry continued wickedly, “for a couple of descriptive passages found in a particular entry – Wedmath, 1388, I believe? She was most appreciative, and I told her that the credit truly lay with you.”

Frodo’s face had bypassed white and was rapidly approaching green. “You didn’t.”

“Journals?” Pippin demanded. “What journals? Why haven’t I heard of any journals? You were courting Melilot at least ten years ago, why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Brandybuck?” Boromir asked. “But I thought Merry was – ”

“Third cousins,” Sam said wearily. “And if you let yourself get distracted by such matters, sir, you’ll never catch up.”

“And what descriptive passages could have Melilot Brandybuck still expressing her gratitude after ten years?”

“Oh, and Rory Goldworthy. Though I had to adapt some of the passages for Rory.”

“So what you’re saying is, half of Buckland knows Master Merry’s more – uh – adventurous activities can be put down to my master’s influence?” Sam said with a growing grin.

“And when were you planning on showing me these journals?”

“Meriadoc,” Frodo said slowly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you.”

“You should all know, our cousin Frodo is a most meticulous and,” Merry smirked, “inventive writer in all respects. I only hope he provides the additions to Bilbo’s book with the same attention to detail!”

Frodo’s reaction was not a happy one. With an uncharacteristically warlike yell he hurled himself at his cousin, fists flying. Although Merry was by far the sturdier of the two, Frodo’s height and indignation found the two evenly matched, and the pair were soon scuffling haplessly in Merry’s bedding. Sam rolled his eyes, and Pippin cheered.

“Well then, lads.” Gimli’s voice was gruff as he approached. He had been discussing their route south along the Misty Mountains with Gandalf and Aragorn, and now the three of them eyed the ensuing chaos with amusement. “What are we discussing?”

“Sex,” Pippin piped up cheerfully.

Legolas was pinching the bridge of his nose: the mumbled comments of ‘raspberry jam and the garden swing’ made Sam fairly certain he had picked up most of Merry and Pippin’s early conversation, and also fairly certain that he didn’t want to know more. Gimli gave a low chuckle, Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Gandalf shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘smut-minded hole-dwellers’.

“You started this?” Gimli asked Boromir.

“I asked for context.”

“Well, it’s your own damn fault then.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Boromir said. “I may never be able to look Merry and Pippin in the eye ever again.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Sam supplied helpfully.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. He was not embarrassed by sex – he was forty years old, thank you very much, and a soldier to boot: quite accustomed to bawdy humour. He knew all the words to ‘The Istari and the Ninety-Nine Virgins’ and had laughed himself sick over every variation of the one about the widow’s lodging house on many occasions. But the thought of these hobbits, small as children, and the Ringbearer by all accounts…

“That’s rather rude,” Merry grumbled when he told them this. “You don’t see us saying ‘urgh, imagine those Men going at it when they’re so freakishly big and ancient looking’, do you?”

“Thank you very much,” Aragorn remarked dryly.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “After spending many days in the company of soldiers from Dale I rather thought all Men to be rather fixated on the subject.”

“Really? I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

There came from Aragorn the sounds of spluttering and rapid smoke inhalation; it appeared he’d lit his pipe at an inopportune moment. “I…I beg your pardon?!”

“Well, look at the size of you. I can imagine you might not be – well, no offence, but not wholly up to scratch.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Frodo steepled his fingers thoughtfully and fixed both Aragorn and Boromir with a calculating gaze that seemed to them a bit too intrigued to be decent. “Well, be fair Pippin. I can imagine size might be beneficial.”

“Maybe a bit.”

“A bit?” chorused the two Men. Gimli snorted.

“But, well, you’re all so big and clumsy,” Pippin, oblivious in the face of rapidly approaching death, continued blithely. “No dexterity. No lightness of touch. No imagination. And just like in everything else, if you think only size matters you’re not going to put too much thought into it, are you?”

Aragorn had gone a distinctly red shade. From across the fire Sam was could see Gandalf’s shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Is Aragorn alright?” Merry asked.

“Ignore him,” Gimli said, “he’s just reconsidering certain aspects of his romantic life for the past seventy years.”

“Bugger off.”

“Well, we’re not prudish,” Boromir said hastily – Gondor might have needed no king, but abandoning Aragorn to this particular line of questioning seemed like a step too far. “We just don’t feel the need to talk about it all the time.”

“We don’t all the time,” Pippin said. “Just in general conversation.”

“Do the women in your homeland not consider such conversation uncouth?” Legolas asked in bewilderment.

Sam snorted. “You want uncouth, sir, you should see young Myrtle Twofoot when she’s got into the summer punch. Three glasses and she’s inviting any lad in sight to untie her bloomer lacings with her teeth, and that’s a fact.”

“Good heavens,” said Boromir, looking rather pale.

“Oh, she always has the lad clean their teeth first, so as to keep everything hygienic sir. Very conscientious is young Myrtle.”

“So, unlike the rest of civilised society,” Legolas concluded, “hobbits would think nothing of taking their afternoon tea, or whatever you strange creatures call it, while listening to Merry regale them all with tales of – ”

“Being snowed in at Bag End with the Goodbody twins, a sturdy settee and the last of Mister Bilbo’s Old Winyards,” Sam supplied helpfully. “I remember your mother raising hell for that one when word got out, Mister Merry.”

Merry somehow managed to smirk and blush at the same time.

“Oh, honestly.” Aragorn looked particularly unsettled. “We don’t all need to hear about Merry’s…proclivities.”

“Well, you’re just a prude,” Merry sniffed.

“No, I’m just not interested in hearing about it.”

“Merry, leave him alone,” Frodo said. “I was in the room next to yours on that particular night, you may remember, and I took as little joy from hearing it then as Aragorn is now.”

Merry pulled a face.

“And to answer your question, Legolas: Merry is, as usual, grossly misrepresenting the Shire in his smut and yes you may well blush, Meriadoc – it’s hardly the sort of thing we discuss over tea and cakes on every occasion. However, I wouldn’t exactly call the subject taboo.”

“Hobbits,” Gandalf chuckled, “as in all respects, enjoy the comforts of life most openly. Why, I could tell tales of Bullroarer Took that might make your hair turn on end!”

“Any tips to pass on?” Pippin asked.

“None for your ears, young hobbit.”

“I’m surprised you’re so bashful, Aragorn,” Merry said. “I’d have thought you very experienced in that regard.”

“What? Why would I be?” Aragorn asked, genuinely baffled.

“Have you seen you?”

“I suppose I had offers – a few – ” Behind his back Legolas snorted and then hastily turned it into a cough, “but there was only ever Arwen.”

“So you’re only interested in girls,” Pippin said.

“No, I’m only interested in Arwen.”

“But what if a really beautiful woman offered – ”

“She did. Her name was Arwen.”

“I think it’s romantic,” said Sam.

“I think it’s idiotic,” Merry argued. “All of that,” he gestured to the ranger, who began blushing from the appraising stares coming from the rest of the Fellowship, “going to waste on just one lass. It’s not natural.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck!” Frodo barked suddenly. “Apologise, young hobbit. You’re being very disrespectful of other folks’ habits. We can’t all manage to be such tramps as you.”

“Maybe we should change the subject,” Gandalf said dryly. “This has all been gone into quite enough.”

“Like Melilot Brandybuck, apparently,” Pippin remarked.

“Peregrin!”

“And,” Boromir continued, suicidally avoiding the glare being levelled at him by Gandalf, “lads going with lads: that is not uncommon, in your home?”

“Why not?” Pippin asked, genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t have known how to so much as kiss if it weren’t for good old Folco Boffin.”

“What of Gondor, Boromir?” Legolas asked.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is not considered shameful. But neither is it wholly approved of, in the higher houses of Gondor, for one man to make a life pledge with another. The noble families consider their heritage to be of great worth, and to forgo the chance of heirs and carrying on the line simply for the sake of affection is not always smiled upon.”

“Giving up your chance of love with some nice lad just to carry on some family name?” Sam said sadly. “Well, that’s right sad, that is.”

“I suppose,” said Boromir. Having understood that he was expected to carry on the line of Stewards since he was a child, he had never thought about it until now. “Of course, in a family with many sons or male cousins, it is less of a scandal. And out in the country or in the garrisons, of course, no-one pays it much mind.”

“Much the same as in the North,” Aragorn, who had now recovered, added. “Though within the Rangers, of course, men with men is more common. Less women, you see.”

“Well, it’s common enough in the Shire,” Merry said carelessly. “Pippin had quite the crush on Aragorn when we first met him in Bree.”

“Hoy!”

“Seeing you and Arwen together must have been like hitting puberty all over again,” Merry said with a snort.

This time it was Pippin who launched himself at Merry; while Aragorn mutely examined himself with the very real concern that he was giving off some sort of wrong signal.

“Don’t worry, Aragorn,” Frodo said soothingly. “After you made us march ten miles in the pouring rain, I suspect Pippin’s ardour wore off some.”

Pippin resurfaced long enough to flash Aragorn a cheeky grin that did not particularly set his mind at ease. “Indeed. And unlike Merry, I don’t feel the need to be bossed around by any of my romantic partners – oof!”

“Well, there’s a revelation I did not particularly need to hear,” Gimli muttered as the two cousins began wrestling again.

“Goes all red whenever Estella Bolger shoots him a sharp word, he does – argh!”

“I still can’t believe how open hobbits are,” Boromir muttered.

“Some of us’ve got a bit more class than the young masters,” Sam said, “begging their pardons.”

“Some of us’re just too shy for their own good.” Pippin, panting, had resurfaced. “When we return to the Shire I’m going to lock you and the lovely Rosie into the cellars of Crickhollow and not let you out until the windows shatter.”

“Master Pippin!”

“Sam, please tell me you don’t go around debauching with all and sundry like the rest of these rakes,” Legolas said.

“Oh, Sam plays his cards close to the chest,” said Merry with an admiring smirk. “He might still be a virgin or might have serviced every lass in the greater Westfarthing area; we’d never know.”

“I have not serviced every lass in the Westfarthing, Mister Merry.”

“Every lad then.”

“Now why would I be doing that, Mr Merry? I don’t know every lad in the Westfarthing!”

“That’s something you take into consideration?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. Merry just looked bemused.

“If Sam is more selective than you, Merry, that’s hardly something to mock,” Frodo said disapprovingly.

“Who said I was mocking? I admire you, Sam, but honestly you were too bloody blind by half to realise what it was like back home. Scores of tweenagers hanging around Bag End garden just waiting for the weather to warm so you’d so much as roll up your sleeves.”

While Pippin fell about laughing and the rest of the Fellowship chuckled, Sam turned a horrified shade of red. “That…that never happened!”

“Why do you think Frodo had so many cousins from Buckland and Tookborough come to stay? Not for his sparkling conversation, surely; there’s only so long you can feign an interest in elvish poetry.”

“Sam,” Frodo said patiently, “one summer we had half the Shire stopping in at Bag End asking you for gardening tips. Did you honestly think Milo Chubb was that interested in keeping the greenfly off his begonias?”

“You knew about this, sir?”

“Knew? I was considering selling tickets.”

Sam’s head fell into his hands.

“Your courtship rituals are certainly…unlike anything I have experienced,” Gimli chuckled drolly. “Whatever happened to a finely-wrought ring or a poem in honour of your loved one?”

“I’ve had good luck with a bottle of sherry and a broom cupboard,” Merry said.

“Typically affection is expressed in our culture with flowers, dancing, and fine manners,” Frodo smirked, “though Merry and Pippin have always seen fit to buck with tradition. Naughty limericks and drunk come-ons are not acceptable.”

“They’re not?” This was news to Merry.

“They were considered terrible flirts back home.”

“Ah yes,” Pippin reminisced dreamily, “I remember the day Diamond North-Took called me a depraved, unconscionable back-alley scoundrel without the morals of a tom-cat.”

“I know, because you do have the morals of a tom-cat.”

“And I told her that, but do you think she’d listen?”

“Folk are expected to calm down as they leave their tweens behind, but as long as no lass gets into trouble or no-one’s tumbling with someone thought to be courting someone else…” Frodo gave a nimble shrug, lips twitching with the fond memories of days long since past. The rest of the Fellowship almost felt like they were intruding. “I myself used to…but then, I don’t know, my interest rather waned over the years…”

“Lost your puff, more like,” Merry scoffed. Without looking up Frodo kicked him in the kneecaps.

“The desire faded,” he said firmly. “Lovely memories and a fine time in my life – but I don’t see anything lacking now it’s over, either.”

Boromir was fascinated. He’d never imagined that one could talk so frankly about desire – or, for that matter, shrug off the lack of it as nothing more than the disappearance of a well-loved but outgrown coat. “I never saw the appeal,” he remarked, “on any account. Good luck to you all if you so choose to take your pleasures in such a fashion, but – honestly, it seems quite the overblown fuss to me. I can think of half a dozen things I’d prefer doing to sex, just off the top of my head.”

“No tales of debauchery from you then?” Merry asked sadly.

“Unlike our esteemed Ringbearer,” Boromir bowed to the blushing Frodo, “I have never debauched. I’m not sure I’d know where to begin.”

The hobbits shrugged carelessly. “Oh, there’s plenty in our homeland who are much the same,” Pippin said. “Cousin Bilbo’s a hundred and twenty-nine if he’s a day, and I don’t think he’s thought on sex once in all that time.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh, come off it. I’d have heard if Bilbo had some lost lady-love in the Shire, mark my words.”

“I said nothing about romance. I just said your assumptions that Bilbo was never interested in sex are inaccurate,” Frodo said, a rather haunted look on his face.

“What, and he told you that, did he?”

“I didn’t need to be told, Peregrin; the arrangements he had with the Widow Moley rather spoke for themselves.”

For a moment there was a distinct choking sound. Sam was very carefully examining the ground beneath his feet while Merry had stuffed his fist into his mouth, shaking with barely contained glee. The rest of the Fellowship exchanged glances. Pippin’s mouth had slowly fallen open: as Frodo continued to look pointedly at him he began to feel much the same way as one might when one bites into an apple and sees half a grub wriggling merrily away at him.

“Bilbo had companionship in his golden years?” Aragorn said in a somewhat strained voice. “That’s…that’s nice.”

“Every Sunday after tea,” Frodo said with the hollow tones more suited to an old soldier recounting the horrors of battles long since past, “and every Trewsday before luncheon; round to Bag End she’d come, regular as clockwork for nearly ten years. Why do you think I asked your mother for earmuffs every Yule?”

“But,” Boromir said, “I thought you told me you were only adopted by Bilbo when he was in his eighties?”

“That I did.”

Pippin finally made a sound, and that sound was: “Eeuargh…..”

“Well now, here we see again the difference in the races. For an elf to be in such a steady relationship at a mere eighty years of age would be considered rash indeed,” Legolas snickered, with the air of one stirring the pot with gleeful abandon.

“Cousin Bilbo is not an elf.”

“Quite,” Frodo said tartly. “Elves are beauteous creatures to behold, and walking in on him and the Widow Moley was not, repeat not, beauteous.”

Pippin made another strangled sound.

“Gimli,” Aragorn said hastily: the thought of old Bilbo, who he had long regarded as akin to a kindly old uncle, getting up to things was not sitting well, “care to add to the conversation?”

Gimli chuckled. “Alas, we are not quite as rambunctious as hobbits.” He leant back and puffed on his pipe. “In truth, romance is rare in my culture – admired well enough, but not prized highly, and many of my people never marry at all. Many do not desire it, being so engrossed in their crafts. There are dwarven songs of great loves and terrible loss that could put even an elvish lay to shame,” Legolas twitched, “but it is beauteous rare. What is romance compared to the joy of your work, the stonecraft and metalwork that outlasts the ages, the artistry of one’s hands?”

Pippin opened his mouth to say something about drilling, tunnelling and chisels, but was stopped when Sam, without any apparent change in his expression, took hold of his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Though Bilbo told me you were considered quite the catch in Erebor?” Frodo prompted.

Gimli shrugged off the complement modestly. “Dwarves who are so inclined towards affairs of the heart – and body – are rare, and so seen as something of a prize. And I flatter myself that I am no poor craftsman; no dwarf or dwarrowdam would scorn one who knows how to wield a hammer.”

“Pippin, shut up,” Boromir said hastily.

“So, you mean – women with women and men with – ”

“Dwarves with dwarves,” Gimli said firmly. He shrugged, and then gave a great booming laugh, smacking his hands down upon his knees. “Though we are a people of great enthusiasms in all respects. Those dwarves who do wed tend to have very successful – and very enjoyable – marriages. Dwarves may not have much interest in affairs of the bed, but when we do it we do it right.”

“Remind me to take a trip to the Blue Mountains when all this is over,” Merry muttered to Pippin with a lecherous grin.

“I don’t think you could handle it.”

“I could.”

“The size difference could be a problem.”

“I could cope with that.”

“The beards would itch.”

Merry paused, then nodded. “Fair point.”

Meanwhile Gimli was eyeing Legolas with wry amusement. “And I suppose your lot have their minds on higher things?”

Legolas scoffed. “Where do you think our children came from?”

“Be fair, sir,” said Sam. “After hearing all those great tales, you start to think elves are a little too dignified for matters such as that.”

“Thingol and Melian,” Frodo chipped in, “Beren and Luthien, Earendil and Elwing. Sam’s right, it’s difficult to imagine them all shagging.”

“Do you mind?” Aragorn asked, turning queasy. Most of these were his potential in-laws.

“Elves are always attracted to beauty,” Legolas’ brow raised, “of any and all kinds. But I can’t deny, compared to us mortals are more – ”

“Randy?” Pippin said.

“Horny?” Merry added.

“Lecherous goats?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Those weren’t quite the synonyms I was grasping for, but essentially yes.”

“Though to be fair,” Aragorn chipped in, “when you say beauty of any and all kinds, be careful not to misrepresent, Legolas. I recall you told me that your father had much to say when as a fauntling your admiration of the Lord Elrond grew a little too obvious to be overlooked.”

“Because he was a fellow?” Merry asked sympathetically.

“Because he is half-elven!” Legolas exclaimed. “Sweet Elbereth, I thought my father would never let it go.”

“Nice to know even elves have their hang-ups,” Sam said.

“But we remain more higher-minded about such things than mortals,” Legolas said.

“Not judging by some of those books of elven art in Lord Elrond’s library.”

“Books?” Merry perked up noticeably.

“Oh,” Gimli snorted, “if it’s art it doesn’t count.”

“I don’t care how many plinths and urns they include, I still use the term art advisedly.”

“What books? Why weren’t they shared?”

“Maybe Frodo’s journals would find a place there,” Legolas said with a smirk. Frodo groaned again.

“Well, this has been most informative,” Aragorn said. “If we get attacked by a marauding band of orcs in the middle of the night it’s pleasant to think we’ll at least have Frodo and Boromir to defend us, for it seems half this Fellowship will be too randy to even think of our defence. I think that clears up every culture represented here, does it not?”

They paused, mulling it over. Then Frodo said, in a particularly thoughtful tone: “Well, not quite every culture…”

As one – warily, and as if drawn by unspeakable horror – the Fellowship turned to look at Gandalf, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this debate. He puffed contentedly on his pipe and simply looked back at them with eyebrow raised, daring them to ask.

Pippin opened his mouth eagerly, and then without preamble was punched right in the stomach by Merry.

Later, when they were all asleep and Legolas had taken the first watch, Pippin rolled onto his back and sighed thoughtfully. “I wish we hadn’t gone into all that now, you know? I feel hellishly homesick.”

His cousin patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be home soon, Pip.”

“I hope so – I want to be back in the Shire. It’s a terrible thing to think of, never going back. Why, I might never have Diamond cast aspersions on my honour ever again!”

“I shouldn’t worry about it. I have no doubt she’ll be denying the very existence of your honour the minute we get back.”

Pippin perked up. “You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.” Merry tucked an arm behind his head. “Funny to think of, isn’t it, old Gandalf? Though I suppose he doesn’t go in much for romance - wizards probably have too much to think about, what with their great works and all.”

“And their staffs.”

“Yes Pip.”

“It must take a lot of maintaining, a mighty staff such as that.”

“Good night, Pippin.”

“And another thing – ”

“Pip?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t help but think you’re working your way up to a dirty joke about a wizard’s staff. I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

[vanimeldes]

can you elaborate a bit what made you divorce from asoiaf/got as you say?

Ooof, so, after the G0T finale, I think my reasons should be obvious, but you also mentioned the books and yes, I lost my interest in books too and I will try to not make this answer too long, but in the same time, to convey all my thoughts on this matter.

*Putting it below cut because.... when I`ll explain the problem of Martin`s fans later, you`ll understand why*

It`s amazing that just a year ago, AS0IAF was my second favourite franchise ever, second only to Tolkien legendarium, but even then, I didn`t love it for the fantasy elements in it, but rather for its characters and some twists and how Martin does forshadowing and writes the dualistic nature of the human being, but...as I read other fantasy series that do these four things AND have fantasy elements, I paused a bit and thought that these series would be just as popular, if they had popular adaptations such as G0T. But I got that AS0IAF was the first that had the opportunity to be adapted and I accepted that. Yet the show highlighted (and in some cases, amplified) some of the very big issues of these books and yes, D&D have many things to be blamed of, but it`s not as if they didn`t have a basis for their fuckery in the books. Martin is just as guilty. So here we go.

1. I am not sure if Martin has ever seen a 13 year old girl, but he writes grown-ass men having fixations and being sexually attracted by Daenerys and Sansa, two prepubescent girl. Martin would call it the gritty realism of the medieval times, but last time I checked, he was writing fantasy, not historical fiction. Fantasy means you can do what you want in your world, so even if you are inspired by the medieval times, it`s still YOUR fictional world and no one will question your research or accuracy if you want to have a female character married when she is at least, say, 18, not FUCKING 13. Not to mention that even in our real world, child brides existed but, guess what, in most the cases, both spouses waited until the wife reached a certain age (16 or older) to consummate their marriage. @eyes-painted-with-kohl explained in the notes of one of my posts and even gave an example or two. I can think of Isabella of France and Edward II. They were married when she was 13 (according to some historical evidence)/16 (according to others). Yes, I know he was homosexual, but he still needed heirs, so they still had children...4 years later, when she was 17/20.  

2. In this same vein, the treatment of his female characters (with the exception of Arya and, maybe Catelyn) is egregious. Daenerys and Sansa are sexualized by the male characters (don`t get me started of the bullshit that is S/ansan, because The Hound is still a murderous man who is aroused by a 12 year-old girl, who invaded her personal space and even pointed a knife to her; do not get me started on book!Jorah, who is a creep). Cersei is paraded naked on the streets and needless to say that during the walk of atonement for an adulterous woman in medieval times, she was never stripped naked; she only had her hair shaved and walked BAREFOOT. That`s it. What Martin did to Cersei is just disgusting. We are shown how Arianne uses sex to have Ser Arys help with her plans and it is implied that Margaery uses sex also. I get that sex is Cersei`s mechanism, but you have two more feminine (this is important) women in power and both of them explicitly use, or are implied to use sex as a mean to gain that power. I get Brienne`s point, her treatment bothers me the least, but it`s annoying from time to time how most of the other characters see only her ”ugliness” and nothing else. Of course, this is the result of the heavy patriarchy in Westeros world that I will discuss in the next paragraph.

3. The heavy patriarchy in Westeros world is nowhere similar to the patriarchy in the medieval times, and that was Martin`s choice and his only. A clear example is what was dubbed the Dead Ladies Club, namely a group of dead female characters whose only purpose was to serve as object of desire for one or more men, to give birth AND to die (gruesomely in some cases). Joanna Lannister is meant only to further fuel the enmity between Tywin and Aerys and Tywin`s hatred towards Tyrion. Elia exists solely to die gruesomely and motivate Doran`s desire for vengeance. Lyanna (the most explored dead lady still exists mainly to give birth to Jon and to be one of the reasons behind a war started by men. Rhaella exists solely to be raped by Aerys and give birth and die. Ashara Dayne exists solely to commit suicide. Ned, a POV character, spends chapters thinking about his father and siblings and never to his mother. Martin had the audacity to say that Tolkien himself didn`t left notes about Aragorn`s mother, but Tolkien had an entire story when Aragorn`s mother and her impact of his life is explored (more than his father, for that matter). The heavy patriarchy serves as reason for the utterly disgusting right of the first night (read Fire & Blood for more). I am not so versed into history as @mydaylightruyi who discussed this, but I too know that in our real world, this practice was a MYTH. But GRRM made it very present in his world because of reasons I guess. 

4. The racism is just rampant and disgusting and even I didn`t notice all the racism until I read @polysorscha `s insights. There`s a to be discussed here, mainly about the portrayal of the Dothraki and how they are reduced to barbaric rapists - interestingly, they are supposedly inspired by Huns, but guess what: the Huns formed a very permisive society, where any religion and culture had its places, where women were very respected and, while cruel  in the European people`s POV, were never....like THIS. 

5. The rape cultures. The Ironborn. Similarly to the Dothraki, their culture is reduced to pillaging and rape. That scene when Euron conquers that castle in the Reach ( I forgot its name) and how he had the daughters of that lord stripped naked and serve his men the meal, and how his men started raping them was....honestly, I wish I could have skipped this chapter. I still read fantasy books written by men more than I read fantasy books written by women, but never in my life did it occur to me to read something like this in a novel that is so hailed for fantasy (?) and realism (???????). I`m not saying that things like that didn`t happen in our cruel history but, again, Martin writes a fictional story. He could choose not to include the rampant violence against women, cultures whose practices are reduced to this utterly gross things, racist and orientalist elements, but he chooses not to. Why? I don`t know. I am not sure I want to know. And Victarion`s POV...oh boy. Or Theon, in ACOK, when he literally rapes that Kyra girl after takes Winterfell. Not only that it`s very disturbing, especially coming from a character that is supposed to be redeemed in some way (yes, I know how he`s been through in ADWD and I also know this is meant to be his redemption arc, but I personally still can`t get over this). And in the same time, while we`re still at the redemption discussion, Theon will surely undergo a redemption of some sorts, Cersei (a female character) will most likely be killed by her lover/brother, who will strangle her to death, most likely while he will embrace her, without a second chance of a droplet of redemption. 

6. I love Tyrion and I love Tywin but in the same time, I acknowledge their misogyny, but Martin chose to write them as misogynists, but in the same time, writing them in such ways that they are inherently labelled as „badass”. He also says that Tyrion is his favourite, but his POV is utterly misogynistic. The reason he kills Shae is because she dared to sleep with his father, but let`s unpack the things a bit: she was a former sex worker with no power, who was forced by the most powerful man in Westeros. She had no choice. She couldn`t refuse him. Yet, for Tyrion, she is ”the lying whore” and that`s it. We are given no chance to try to see the things from her POV (I am not implying that she should have been a POV character, but Martin should have written Tyrion considering for a moment what other choices Shae had). 

7. I discovered that Martin straightly ripped-off many plot points and themes from another series who isn`t half as popular, sadly. 

8. Last, but not the least, the snake pit that is THE FANDOM. You know, as much as I tried to stay away from its toxicity because „it`s just an internet thing, it can`t affect me”, it did affect my online experience in ways that I hadn`t imagined. To sum up, if you don`t like a character or hate another, you are  a pariah. You are dumb because you don`t understand that character or you are a misogynist (because, sadly, this discourse is mostly about the female characters). If you dare to voice up your thoughts about a certain event and/or a certain character and tag your post as #asoiaf or #asoiaf meta (you know, because this is it to me: a meta; plus, I want to have an ordering system in my blog so that whenever I want to look for a certain post in a certain topic or fandom, I would only look into the tag) or #my meta (highlighted „MY” because this is also important, as in it`s MY OWN PERSONAL OPINION), and those thoughts happen to not fit into the general consensus of the „great AS0IAF bloggers” (namely those meta writers with many followers who sound like they already read TWOW and ADOS), you are trashed and called an idiot. Granted, I met enough great people, meta writers included, in this fandom, and it was a real pleasure to chat with them, but I also had bad experiences with others and idk, I thought we were all mature people, but the way they reacted can hardly be described as mature. And in the same point, it`s just funny to see the hardcore Martin stans reacting in front of the clear evidence that Martin isn`t half as original as they thought (see 7) and acting like they are personally attacked.

Ok, it took me an hour. There is a lot more to discussed, but I got bored and I honestly want to shut the door to this fandom forever. To answer another question, yes, I will be reading the last two books  if when they will come out. I invested many months in this series not to finish it. I`ll probably block all the ASOIAF-related tags to avoid any interaction with its fandom during those times.

[mimikoflamemaker]

Hey, do you have any head canons about Lithien that readers might not know? Ones that aren't spoilers of course.;-)

What is this? A random question  about my fic?! Thank you so much!! That would be a first and i am honestly beyond excited to get it ;)

Now, whenever I think about some facts pertaining to Lithien I always try to think how they would incorporate into the great river that her story is, but let’s face it - I would need a lifetime and then some to write it all down ^^’ JoO is the last slice of it so to speak and we are starting the 6th year of working on it with book I not even done yet (but soon)… I think I can as well share some.

About my LotR AU in general: if only to show you what kind of nerd I really am - I planned (or at least thought about) not only Lithien’s story since she was born, but also about the stories of her family, which, except for Galaren, involves her other older brother Authion, and her parents Daugion and Belluthiel. And somehow I ended up with a plot dating back to the Years of Trees and filled with plenty of your favorites…

Lithien’s name. I think this is one of my favourites - so, I was 11 (or 12) when Lithien first came to be and her name first was simply because I took Luthien and swapped a letter. Luthien was cool. I wanted my character to be cool too. Fast forward to me being around 20 and stumbling a bit deeper into sindarin. Lo, and behold ‘lith’ now means dirt/ashes. Lithien is not a cool name anymore, but it is also an integral part of my girl (I don’t change characters name once give, because to me it’s like creating a completely new person) and I can’t just rip it off. So I now have ‘Child of the Ashes’ glaring at me in mild offence - her back story helped me. I just included a bit where Daugion named her while still filled with grief after the death of ger wife, which he subconsciously blamed his newborn daughter for. Grieving people sometimes don’t think clearly. And I gifted her with a nice, fitting eppese later on.

Lithien’s occupation. Never once in any of his text Tolkien mentions that elven women were forbidden to take up arms. They just rarely did it. And when they did they could be just as badass as men. So I built on that and hile I think that female soldiers/wardens were not your everyday occurrence, they were not as much of a rarity as one would think (for one, one of Lithien’s fellow wardens Belfaer is also a woman). Lithien went into that with her eye wide open, knowing full well what that choice would entail. And she never regretted it. Later when she was out of commission due to injury and went to live in Rivendell, she picked up some knowledge about healing, but she was never a full-fledged healer. What I find the most interesting about it is that, personality wise, Lithien was the closest thing to what her father would deem to be a perfect heir - Resilient, courageous and living by the sword so to speak. Unfortunately, she was a girl. So the title fell on Galaren, who does his job well and is a formidable warrior, but he would be much more content with his life if he could have chosen a different path for it - whether it would be a healer or a hunter.

A few little facts from Lithien’s childhood: Galaren was the one who tried to be both a brother and a father where their could not be. He still wonder’s if Lithien would have come out to be a bit more lady-like if she had only spent more time in the company of women instead of his friends. Lithien on the other hand wouldn’t change a thing. Speaking of friends - Maethion, Galaren’s best friends (his brother from another mother really :) ) was the one to steal Lithien’s first kiss. and she was barely considered an adult then. It almost came to knives then. Also, stay tuned for more Maethion in JoO - his role expanded for beyond what I initially had planned for him. When Lithien was still a wee tiny self and feeling lonely because Galaren wasn’t home much, he gifted her with a dog - a great black hound that she could ride like a pony if she wished. Lithien was a dog person ever since.

Early on (for an elf) in her career as a warden, Lithien took part in a skirmish with orcs. When she jumped in to protect her fallen comrade she herself was wounded - the blade caught her in the side, tearing the skin and muscle from her hip almost to her spine on the other side. She barely survived that. Galaren, absolutely devastated forced her to swear off being a warden. Lithien relented and took up the position at the Royal Palace. There she met Celebrian, who took pity upon the girl and whisked her away to Rivendell as her personal maid.

Lithien never felt like a maid, more like another child. She got on well with all three of their children and found herself with the growing admiration for Elrond. He made a lot of strong friendships there and met a men she fell in love with. It was a great time. The best time. She would have probably remained there if it wasn’t for what happened to Celebrian and Calanon. But she never forgot to come back for a visit, which sometimes taken years (what is a couple of years to an elf?)

Glorfindel was the one who encouraged her to pick up the sword again, clearly seeing that needle will never become her weapon of choice. Galaren is still jealous that she got to train with him though he will never admit it out loud.

During one of her visits to Rivendell, Lithien met Gilaren, Aragorn’s mother. Her life was never the same since that point onward. I still plan on writing a story based on this premise, but let’s just say that I shifted years a wee bit and Gilraen came to Rivendell pregnant and not with 3yo Aragorn. The two bonded over time, despite Lithien being terrified at first and hovering over Gilraen at every step. She was also one of the first people to hold tiny Aragorn. It was a love at first sight.

Lithien did travel a fair bit over the years. Mostly to Rivendell true, but she was also in Isengards twice, saw a bit of Rohan, and trudged Northern lands with Dunedain for about 15 years. She also briefly visited Mirkwood, had a chance to meet the people of Beor, saw the Lonely Mountain, the Lake Town and the Ruins of Dale. She was in Moria twice, but that’s not worth mentioning.

Dunedain are Lithien’s favourite and best known group of people.  Not only because they are Aragorn’s people, but also because she got to travel and live with them for about 15 years after the events of the Hobbit (just enough time to allow one’s hair to grow back) It was a harsh lesson sometimes, but Lithien wouldn’t change it for anything else.

Lithien’s favorite ‘lady-like’ activity is dancing. Probably because it involves a lot of movement. She is no stranger to needle work or playing harp or singing, but dancing plays well with her dislike of sitting idly, doing nothing.

Despite the initial panic Lithien turned out to be rather great with kids of all races. This might have something to do with wanting to prove that she can do better than what she knows, but she will never admit it. Besides she does really like children.

I still have a burning desire to write a fill up story in this AU with includes the scenario in which Maglor did not die/drown. What I’ve written so far includes a hunt, a great deal of distrust, wounds and blows to the back of the head… But since I never know where to stop once I’ll start a writing project…

And finally, because I’m going to run out of post space - Lithien name’s all of her horses Pilin (arrow). Yes, I shamelessly stole the idea from Geralt, but really - Lithien is an elf. She goes through A LOT of horses, even if they don’t expire before their time. And keeping your loyal companion nameless is not exactly her style. 

[dawnfelagund]

10 Tolkienfic Stories I Have Read and Loved in the Past Month

Fandom Snowflake Day 5 asked participants to "post recs for at least three fanworks that you did not create." I went *ahem* a little above and beyond. I did ten. I've been reading a lot of Tolkienfic lately--it is one of my goals for the year to make time for reading, as it is often one of the fandom pleasures that falls first to the obligations of running a website--and I wanted to share some of my favorites from among what I've read. I feel like I need to make up for a few years of rarely reading and commenting while I was in grad school. Most of these stories are Silmarillion-based, but there are a few that are from The Lord of the Rings. Please check them out and, if you like them, consider leaving the author a note letting them know. The Choice by Keiliss. Thank goodness the prompt that inspired this story gives away the ending or I don't think I would have been able to take it. I still teared up at multiple points in this tenderly written and beautifully human story about Elladan and his daughter making their choice about whether or not to sail for Aman. Few of Tolkien's unanswered question have inspired the speculation, angst, and fanfic as the question of whether the sons of Elrond sailed, and Kei's story deserves a place at the top of the heap. Her characterization, too, of characters who only appear in passing speak of why she is one of the giants of Tolkienfic. This story is simply wonderful. Elendili by @hadas-the-unseelie​. I picked up this story for the Fandom Snowflake challenge that asked participants to reach out to someone new. I'll admit that I hesitated. It mentions a teenage girl and glitter in the summary, and while I totally support teenagers writing fanfic--a lot of my students do and I think it's awesome!--I also reserve the right not to read said fanfic when it's not one of my students! And the story was long. But, in the Snowflake spirit, I gave it a go and OMG. OMG, y'all. It is probably the strangest story I will rec here--which anyone who knows me will know I mean as a compliment--but Hadas is one of those writers with a gift for wielding words like a knife between my bones where they actually hurt. The imagery is stunning: sometimes gritty and very anchored in Modern-earth (where this story is set) and sometimes ethereal and otherworldly, making that familiar world of colleges and coffee shops Elvish somehow. Eyes Bright with Honor by heget. Heget is working on telling the tales of the ten companions who died in the dungeon with Finrod in defense of Beren. The Beren and Luthien story has never particularly entranced me (Finrod's on the other hand ... *ahem*), but I walked away from this story getting it: getting some of the magic that people (including Tolkien) see in that story and in the character of Beren in particular. The story meanders through time, mostly looking back to the life of the OC Consael whose story Heget tells in this piece, and it is a story where the pieces all coalesce and make beautiful sense in the end. This is one of the most horrifying episodes in The Silmarillion to me, yet I could walk away from this story with a rare sense of feeling uplifted and hopeful instead of imagining those eyes kindling in the dark ... Heget plans to write about all ten companions, and I will be checking out the other pieces in the series on the strength of this one. Galadriel: There and Back Again by @hhimring​. If someone were to task me with writing the life of Galadriel, I would sweat over it for a year and turn out a sprawling, half-million word epic. And I still don't think I could top this story. Himring is perhaps one of the most underappreciated masters of Silmfic, and this story shows why. Her Galadriel manages to be stubborn, strong, and vulnerable with a no-nonsense wisdom that probably explains her survival alone (almost) of her family. And in well under 2000 words! Every wrenching, poignant word counts in this piece that stitches together the Galadriel who competed with (and feared) Fëanor and she who gave Frodo the light of Eärendil that saved him. Home for Midwinter by Tallulah Red. I will echo Tal's several reviews on the LotRGenFic community--this was written for their annual Yule Exchange--who praised the world-building in this story. The story was written for Indy, who wanted to see Maglor adopt a family from among the Avari. Although a short piece, it sparkles with believable characters and culture, taking a different take on the Avari than most writers do. And in a fandom that has a Maglor-walks-by-the-shore-and-laments trope, it was refreshing to read a story that allows him happiness in the future while also not shying from his history. Journeys by @independence1776​. This story was written for me, for the MPTT/LotRGen Yule Exchange. I remember writing a story once for a friend that she described fitting like a pair of gloves that could only be selected by someone who knew her well. This is such a story. It is Maedhros and Maglor and a conversation in a cave, yet the dialogue simmers with much more than can be seen on the surface, and Indy achieves an easy camaraderie between the brothers that is delightful to read. It is simply wonderful, like Indy dove into my mind and extracted a story I would have loved to have written for my own verse. I'm officially adopting this one into the Felakverse. The Purple Dress by Avon. This story gave me chills. Set in Númenor, a young woman flouts convention in her choice of dress color ... but this story is so much more than that. It is one of those pieces that unspools in slow revelations so that, as a reader, you're never entirely on steady ground. And once you realize what is going on, you're not there yet; the ending simmers with delicious double entendre. There's A LOT going on in this short piece, and every word and image count. Though the Road Darkens by @marta-bee. Marta's story tells the tale of Gorlim the Unhappy through the eyes of his companion Gildor. The voice in this story is simply magnificent; you feel like you are sitting at the fireside, hearing Gildor tell his tale. A complicated story, it brings in folklore, myth (Middle- and Modern-earth), and questions the historical tradition, offering different look at Gorlim's story. Oh, and it's beautifully written, the kind of words you want to lean back and savor like wine. If you're thinking--like I probably would have if Marta hadn't asked me to read this story--that you'd never be interested in a story about Gorlim, take a chance and prove yourself wrong. (I'm happy to admit that I was! :) Winter Came Earlier by @heartofoshun. She calls this "just a bit of fluff" in the summary, but saying this is "just" fluff is like saying the Grand Canyon is "just" a sidewalk crack. This is a layered and thought-provoking story in which Elladan faces, through Arwen and Aragorn, his own worries about mortality and what it means to be Peredhil. But don't let my summary scare you into thinking that this is a deep, heavy story that one can only read in a bright-lit room. This is Oshun, after all, and her work is as ever sweetened with romance and humor that balance perfectly with the deeper themes of this short, lovely work. Winter Sons of Gondor by Elwen. It was my turn this month on MPTT to archive the challenge stories. This necessitates skimming each piece so that I can add the meta-data to it about character, genre, et cetera. Most of the time I do just that--skim--and I started to do so with this story but got hooked in despite my intentions to make quick work of posting it. Young Boromir and Faramir are coping with the pressures of their father's growing madness when they decide to escape for a morning to enjoy a rare snowfall. But their journey takes an unexpected turn. This story is a page-turner, and I could not have left off reading it and gone back to skimming if I'd wanted to.