Latest Posts by penelopes-poppies - Page 6

breaking news: local british magician collapses from exhaustion after carrying the entire fantasy genre’s gaslight gatekeep girlboss representation since 2004. “mr norrell is such a #icon,” our sources report. 

Half of reading silmarillion fanfiction is getting annoyed that your favourite elf is being characterised wrong, and then realising said elf is only mentioned by name 9 times in the entire silmarillion and the version of them you've created in their head is not in fact their actual character

the mortal LaCE loophole

Anyway fun little factoids for fanfiction writers who want to be maliciously canon compliant with LaCE are that: 1. an elf without descent from Earendil and Elwing does not have the Choice, and does not necessarily die when their mortal partner does out of grief; case to point; Mithrellas, who just left one day 2. the rule post-statute is that no elf may have more than one spouse in this world at the same time 3. even if you go by the very strictest of LaCE interpretations (it’s not a cultural document but literally biologically true, sex = marriage even if no vows to Eru/Valar are made) … this still allows for what I refer to as the Mortal Loophole 4. because mortals do not stay within the circles of the world after death 5. congratulations! your elves can practice serial monogamy with mortals and be entirely canon compliant 6. literally, this is not against any of the laws. infinite mortal spouses. 7. this can either be a horror scenario (pre-existing inequalities in the first age between elves and humans + disposable spouses? hm…) OR just an excuse for 100% canon compliant slutty elves I guess. Just with mortals. 8. No, elves don’t only marry for true love guaranteed to kill them in the event of death – as noted, again, both by LaCE and demonstrated by Mithrellas’ actual behaviour. Luthien was an exception adn should not have been counted. 9. Then why did Aegnor leave? As stated in Athrabeth; he’s Noldorin royalty and has some wacky idea about No Romance During War* (*in part because to Tolkien as a Catholic marriage = children, and children during war = big no no to Noldor for reasons that do make sense) and also he was afraid of seeing Andreth age, elves are capable of living more in memory etc. 10. Anyway not every elf is highly principled Noldorin royalty. 11. Unfortunately the outcome of elf/mortal pairings = default mortal child unless you’re a descendant of Earendil. Somewhat traumatic for an elvish parent 12. But as Eol demonstrates shitty elvish parents exist, and also having a child is a conscious act for them anyway. So they could just. Not.

This is legitimately good advice and works for almost everyone, but I do want to add that when an author believes that reworking a piece is worth it, we end up with such treasures as The Code by @adurowrites

As someone who reads favorite fanfics over and over again, it's always a treat when an author posts a new and improved version, especially when they give the reader insight into their rewriting and editing process

You don't owe it to anyone to redo your old work simply because it isn't as skillfully written as your newer stuff, but if you yourself want to engage in the endeavor and you think that it'll be good for you, go for it! And let me know afterwards because I want to read it

I know you said at one point that towards the sun was a multi year project (or at least I’m p sure u did? ig if I’m wrong just ignore this ask fjigjgjg), and I wondered something. What if by the time you get to the end, you’ve improved your writing so much that you’re not satisfied with the beginning anymore?

That is actually a normal part of writing! If you can see places to improve your old work, then you have improved since you wrote it. So like. It's a good thing when that happens.

Little edits like typos, or things like the Towards the Sun edit to remove icky blind stereotypes, are almost always worth fixing. The former is quick and easy (and bugs me on a visceral level), the latter is basic decency.

Big edits, like large plot or character arc changes, are almost never worth doing. Especially in fanfiction, where most readers aren't going to see those edits because they read the chapter months ago and ain't coming back.

AKA: I'll be leaving older stuff alone. Everyone can see the post date, if it's not as good as my newer stuff there's a pretty self-explanatory reason.

Realizing that a lot of my "emotional oversensitivity" as a child was actually me not being able to distinguish between joking/sarcastic and serious tones

I was thinking about how one of the defining features of both Fëanor and Fingolfin is anger. It’s more obvious with Fëanor (drawing a sword on his brother, swearing a very threateningly worded oath), but it’s also true for Fingolfin. Tolkien says Fingolfin was of a different temperament and yeah, maybe he was more restrained and less reckless, but still it was partially anger at Fëanor that pushed him to cross the Helcaraxë, and it was anger that made him go and confront Satan.

In contrast, their firstborn sons rarely do anything out of anger. Fingon’s driven by loyalty, friendship and compassion, even when he has every right to feel betrayed and angry. It is said he hated Morgoth only, but even that hatred isn’t shown on page through anger (defiance maybe but not anger). His last charge against Morgoth’s forces was born from hope unlike his father’s.

As for Maedhros, he laughs when he receives Thingol’s condescending answer, while his brothers are mad. I don’t think he felt angry even before/during the kinslayings but rather frustrated and desperate. While his deeds of surpassing valor during the Bragollach faintly resemble Fingolfin’s furious charge (his spirit burned like a white fire within / his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar), the wording here sooner reminds me of the fire of life was hot within him (and whose ardour yet more eager burnt) used to describe Maedhros before. It’s fire of life / white fire for Maedhros and filled with wrath and despair and great madness of rage for Fingolfin.

Finarfin, though, is not angry like his brothers, he’s soft-spoken and peaceful, and nopes out of their mess pretty fast. At first glance, his firstborn son is like him. He’s friends with everyone, beloved by everyone, but I can’t forget the moment Finrod threw away his crown (such a great scene, it’s been living in my head since the moment I read it, probably because it was unexpected to see such a furious gesture from Finrod). It makes me think that he was more similar to his uncles that he’d like to believe, but he was slightly better at controlling his rage.

[ID: a digital painting of Finduilas, princess of Nargothrond. She is facing towards the viewer, standing by a floor to ceiling window through which golden light is flowing into the room. Finduilas's head is tilted down and to her left, as she looks away from the window at something below her eye level in the interior of the room. Her left hand rests below her jaw and her right at her waist; her expression is pensive. She is dressed in a floor-length, light yellow dress with light blue embroidery at the neckline, bottom hem, and ends of the short sleeves. The dress is belted about her waist with a thin, tassled ribbon of the same light blue. She also wears a purple shawl draped over her right shoulder and arm, a golden or bronze bracelet on her left wrist, and white gemstone earrings. Her golden hair is pulled back from her face but left loose and curling down past her waist. End ID.]

Finduilas for moynal ⭐

Me: I'm not one of those Autistics who needs noise-canceling headphones (/nm); regular noise levels don't bother me like they do some people

Also me: *puts in earplugs to vacuum* *world goes quiet* THIS IS BEAUTIFUL I'M BUYING NOISE-CANCELING HEADPHONES RIGHT NOW

Kids 🤝 autistic people

Blunt honesty

Friendly reminder that 1200 calories is the recommended amount for a 5 year old

Do you ever think about how staggeringly in bad taste it is that Gandalf brought a firework that turns into Smaug to Bilbo’s birthday party

Like how were you hoping that would go

Currently thinking about a Maglor Requiem: the kyrie is a seven-voice fugue

today i’ve seen a lot about disney ‘copyrighting’ loki. the whole thing seemed rather ridiculous to me, so i decided to do some research; it’s still a sketchy situation all around but as someone who is close with people who are practicing norse pagans, i felt like it was important to share.

firstly: the mouse did not, actually, do anything here in regards to the redbubble artist. it was actually redbubble that sent the email and took the work down, because the artist was copying a shirt from the comics. as in, it’s literally on the cover of a comic book, same text, color, and all.

the email alert to the artist was likely auto-generated. the email states: “…in most cases, this means that the rights holder did not specifically identify your work for removal.” so redbubble is being overly cautious here.

is it silly? yes. we won’t argue that point. it’s two words on a t-shirt.

secondly: that article is poorly researched and written. their “source” for their claim that disney might trademark mythological depictions of loki is the artist who was copying the shirt. according to the article: “Even art specifically of the Norse deity, which predates the MCU character by a handful of centuries, could be claimed, according to an artist who posted a takedown notice of their Loki art from Redbubble.”

‘could be claimed,’ says the artist. so what i’ve just read is that disney isn’t actually claiming anything. the artist is upset that their copied work was removed from redbubble by redbubble and is making baseless claims.

then i got to thinking about “the rights holder,” being the mouse. where does that leave us? do they hold the rights to loki? can they even do that?

the answer is no — sort of.

from what i can tell (and again, i’m an internet random, so i may be wrong!) it appears that the mouse is not copyrighting the norse gods, they’re trademarking their particular versions of loki — so comic depictions, movie depictions, etc. “marvel’s loki,” vs norse loki, basically, or “loki as depicted by tom hiddleston.” meaning any unauthorized art that could be linked to disney’s trademarked version of loki is within the company’s rights to have removed. but again, in this situation that started the whole kerfluffle, it was redbubble that removed it.

then i got to thinking a little more: what’s the difference between trademark and copyright?

as it turns out, copyright and trademark are two very different things. here’s an article that details it fairly clearly, but this snippet below is a pretty good summary.

“Overall, copyright protects literary and artistic materials and works, such as books and videos, and is automatically generated upon creation of the work. A trademark, on the other hand, protects items that help define a company brand, such as a business logo or slogan, and require more extensive registration through the government for the greatest legal protections.”

so disney has trademarked their particular version of loki. trademark is also limited to a particular context. the mouse trademarking loki in the context of a superhero/comic book world means that he cannot be made into a comic book hero or villain by anyone but marvel.

tl;dr — don’t panic if you are someone who counts loki or anyone else in the norse pantheon among your deities. a very overzealous redbubble, not disney, was the one who took down the shirt and sent the email, and they state in that email that “in most cases, the rights holder did not identify your work for removal.” the article that claims that disney is trademarking loki is poorly researched, written, and designed to freak you out.

Fuck it, posting the glass eye fic I’ve been sitting on for a few months

•••

Katara didn’t trust Zuko as far as she could throw him, and based on past experiences, she couldn’t throw him very far without waterbending. Not that she’d hesitate to waterbend at him if he tried anything- and at this point, she was just waiting for him to slip up.

Which was why she was immediately ready to water whip him off the side of the temple when she heard Sokka’s terrified shriek. Okay, so maybe she didn’t exactly have proof he’d done anything, or even that he was anywhere near Sokka, but she ran towards the noise, water pouch at the ready, planning the best way to toss him out a window anyway-

And it was Zuko! She let herself have the vindication for a moment. Just a moment. Then asked “Sokka, what did you do?”

Look, she hated Zuko’s guts, but he didn’t look like he was actively hurting anyone right now, staring at Sokka in shock and clutching his face (the scarred side, she noted).

For good measure, she repeated the question at Zuko, because Sokka had screamed and he didn’t usually do that for no reason.

“I was just getting dressed!” Zuko protested, halfway between confused and afraid. “And he just came in and started screaming!”

Sokka made a strangled noise and gestured emphatically at Zuko, which cleared up absolutely nothing. “He- he- his- I-“

“Sokka!” She snapped. “What happened?”

Zuko lowered his hand a little and Sokka let out another half yelp. The firebender glared, then winced a little, still not uncovering his face.

“Wait, Sokka, did you hit him?”

Katara was a responsible person, who disapproved of hitting people on principle. She was not frowning at Sokka because she was jealous.

“No!” Sokka managed to get out. “Zuko- he- his eye fell out!”

Oh.

“Sokka...” she sighed. “Are you high again?”

“Wait-“ Zuko cut in, looking a little less confused (Katara would be angry with him for interrupting later, when she was less desperately perplexed). “You were freaking out because I took my eye out?”

“You... you what?” Katara was now matching Sokka’s confused horror. “You took your what out?”

Zuko lowered his hands, and yep, one eye. One eye and one not-eye, because Zuko only had one eye, and an empty eye socket, because what in Tui’s name was-

“What the fuck-“ She wasn’t sure if that was her or Sokka.

One - one - creepy gold eye blinked at them. “It’s a glass eye,” Zuko said slowly. “I kinda have to take it out sometimes.”

That explained everything and nothing at all. “It’s a what?” Sokka demanded.

“Glass eye,” Zuko said, then waved something small and eye-shaped in their general direction. He looked slightly more annoyed than usual, and then it struck Katara that someone screaming when they saw your face probably didn’t do wonders for self-esteem. “An eye. Made of glass.”

Sokka looked outright terrified. “But... how did your eye turn into glass? That happens? Do I have to worry about that?”

Katara did not slam her head into the wall, showing incredible self restraint. “Sokka, you idiot!” she groaned.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes wide. “Katara, why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!”

As a healer, she had a duty to tell him he was being an absolute idiot and that it was clearly a prosthetic.

As a little sister, she had a duty to fuck with him, and that was a far more sacred duty.

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” she managed to sigh. “I didn’t want you to worry, with all the stuff you do that- no, don’t worry. It’s not so bad.”

“What?” His voice was strangled in fear. “Katara, what? Katara what am I doing?! How do I stop it?! Katara?!”

She’d almost forgotten about Zuko until he very sadly said “why do you think Aang doesn’t eat meat? The Avatar needs two eyes, and if one falls out, it could cause problems.”

She did not like Zuko at all, but right then, she loved him.

Ten minutes later, Sokka had sworn off meat, and then the other contributing factors to eyes spontaneously turning into glass and falling out: sarcasm, boomerangs and being an annoying big brother.

“He knows we’re joking, right?” Zuko asked cautiously after Sokka sprinted out to apologise to the spirits for making fun of waterbending.

“Eh, he’ll figure it out.”

———

“So,” Toph said as they settled down for dinner - with Sokka being late for a meal for the first time in his life, “why is Snoozles throwing seal jerky into the canyon?”

“I have a glass eye,” Zuko explained.

The earthbender nodded sagely. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Aang was slowly looking between the three of them like it would make any of this any more sensical. “Uh... what?”

“Long story,” Katara sighed.

Her brother strode up to the campfire with his usual level of theatre, then remembered that being dramatic was also a risk factor and very calmly and slowly sat down. “I think I’m safe.”

“What about your hair?” Zuko asked, completely blank faced.

“... please tell me this isn’t why you had the bald ponytail.”

“You think I did that willingly? No, I needed at least one eye working.”

Sokka sprinted into the temple.

“You’re not actually going to let him shave his hair, are you?” Zuko asked, looking mildly concerned.

Okay, this was perfect and Katara would remember it lovingly for the rest of her life, but even her natural little sister sadism wouldn’t stretch that far. “Toph, please bring him back here.”

———

“Toph, let me out of the rock! I need my eyes!”

———

“Wait... what?”

———

“What do you mean it’s not a medical condition?!”

———

“What do you mean it’s a prosthetic!?!”

———

“YOU LET ME THROW THE SEAL JERKY AWAY!”

———

“Okay,” Sokka said calmly, two hours and a lot of yelling later. “That was a very cruel prank and I’m never forgiving any of you.”

“Shut up, Snoozles,” Toph scoffed.“There are more important things than your dignity. For example,” she turned to Zuko with a huge grin, “can I touch it?”

“It’s been in his head!” Sokka screeched. Apparently the dramatics were back on. “It has head goo on it!”

Katara frowned. “Sokka, how do you think bodies work?”

“Please?” Toph begged, giving very impressive polar-puppy-dog eyes for someone who couldn’t see. “No one ever lets me touch their real eyes.”

“Because you’re a menace,” Katara scoffed.

“Please, Sparky?”

“Ugh, fine,” Zuko sighed. “Give me a second.”

It occurred to everyone a moment too late that, oh yeah, if anyone was going to spontaneously invent glassbending, it would be Toph.

Whenever I read LotR and reach the battle between Eowyn and the Witch-king, I get the impression that the reason why the prophecy loophole works isn’t that the Witch-king is unkillable except for some illogical weakness nobody had thought about yet for misogynistic reasons, but that the Witch-king himself derives so much of his power from the fear he instills in others and from his own belief that he is unkillable. Eowyn doesn’t fear him, because she doesn’t fear death. When she twists his words right back at him, she’s not trying to exploit a prophecy loophole, she’s just making a play on the double meaning of the word «man» with fairly standard battlefield bravado.

But, crucially, it gets the Witch-king wondering if there might be an actual loophole in the prophecy. He starts doubting his own invincibility. There’s no logical reason why a woman might be able to kill him if a man cannot, but prophecies are tricky things. What if …

And this is what undoes him, in the end. This last minute doubt. The Witch-king, deep down, believes that Eowyn can kill him, thus making it possible for her to do so.

Why are medieval movies always serious war dramas? I just want a medieval rom com. No listen - it could be so good:

The film opens with the wedding - William de something or other is a young nobleman who expected to spend the rest of his life in a monastery illuminating books when his older brother suddenly dies, leaving him with a title and a huge estate to run. He needs a wife and heir to legitimize his claim, and Eleanor is the young daughter of the lord in the neighboring estate. She is eager to get out of her fathers house and become a wife, and the marriage will be a strategic alliance between the two families. Everything is perfect.

However, it instantly becomes clear that the newlyweds can’t stand each other. He thinks she is a shallow teenager, she thinks he’s a pretentious asshole. As soon as they are alone on their wedding night, they make a plan. Instead of consummating their marriage, they will write to the pope with some excuse (that I need to actually research) and request an annulment. The letter will take several months to reach the Vatican and back, and in the mean time they decide to keep it a secret and play the role of a happy couple.

Shenanigans ensue. Running an estate is hard, and both of them are terrible at it. Eleanor starts off on the wrong foot with the seneschal and the servants, the money isn’t adding up, and William has to deal with his serfs coming to him with increasingly hilarious and convoluted complaints. He snores, she hogs the blankets. The members of the household spy and gossip, the animals are underfoot, and someone is always playing the bagpipes at the worst time. The newlyweds bicker and argue and can’t wait for the letter to arrive so they can finally drop the charade and part ways.

After a while though, Eleanor starts getting the hang of being a lady. It turns out she has a brilliant head for math and logistics, and when she figures out that William’s seneschal has been cheating him and fixes the budget to get them through the winter, he starts to trust and rely on her to run the estate. It turns out that William’s abrasivness was hiding a pious and sensitive interior, and once he realised she won’t judge him for it he teaches Eleanor to appreciate art and philosophy (and also how to sword fight because this is my movie and I want a hot fencing lesson scene). Eleanor helps William come to terms with his bisexuality, he learns to respect her struggle as a woman in a patriarchal society (using language that make sense for the period). They realize that unfortunately they also find each other very attractive.

(Someone needs to come up with an actual plot, I’m not good at that.)

The letter from the pope finally arrives granting the annulment, but they take one look at it, toss it in the fire, and go consummate the marriage.

The costumes will all be accurate to the 14th century and thus used to comedic effect whenever possible. The church, the feudal system, and other institutions of Medieval society will be treated as flawed yet nuanced parts of everyday life, people will be reasonably religious for the time period, and there will be lots of dirty jokes (and a hot fencing lesson scene).

Hollywood give me money!!!

we all have a limit to the bad things characters can do until we're not comfortable liking them but tbh some of you are just super fucking boring

Do you ever think about how staggeringly in bad taste it is that Gandalf brought a firework that turns into Smaug to Bilbo’s birthday party

Like how were you hoping that would go

Whenever I read LotR and reach the battle between Eowyn and the Witch-king, I get the impression that the reason why the prophecy loophole works isn’t that the Witch-king is unkillable except for some illogical weakness nobody had thought about yet for misogynistic reasons, but that the Witch-king himself derives so much of his power from the fear he instills in others and from his own belief that he is unkillable. Eowyn doesn’t fear him, because she doesn’t fear death. When she twists his words right back at him, she’s not trying to exploit a prophecy loophole, she’s just making a play on the double meaning of the word «man» with fairly standard battlefield bravado.

But, crucially, it gets the Witch-king wondering if there might be an actual loophole in the prophecy. He starts doubting his own invincibility. There’s no logical reason why a woman might be able to kill him if a man cannot, but prophecies are tricky things. What if …

And this is what undoes him, in the end. This last minute doubt. The Witch-king, deep down, believes that Eowyn can kill him, thus making it possible for her to do so.

[ID: screenshot of tags reading, "and the fact that it was invented by a hobbit who knocked the head of an orc straight off. And the orc's name was Golfimbul." End ID]

sometimes i think about how tolkien said golf exists in middle earth and then just never mentioned it again ever

i just saw the tag “canon complicit” instead of “canon compliant” and im laughing its like “canon is a criminal act that i unfortunately support with this fic”

I need authors to write a oneshot of their characters so I know what I'm getting into before I commit to a whole book about these people

ive realised there isnt a huge market for shakespeare shit posts

The hilarious thing about Sauron is that according to most versions of the legendarium, he was originally, like, a god of planning and logistics, and he initially supported Melkor’s plans for world domination because he regarded the world’s present state of affairs as inefficient and poorly organised. He’s literally what happens when you take the kid who’s fed up at everybody else fucking up their part of the group project and give him phenomenal cosmic power.

anyway I do think Smeagol could have been redeemed/rehabilitated if the story had played out differently

Can I please ask for your top five theories on why the Ringwraiths become so much more powerful over the course of the LotR trilogy? By the end of the books a single Ringwraith holds an army of 6000 men in paralysing dread from a height of a mile, they're dismaying hosts of men, etc. And in the beginning, they're easily defeated by "jumping behind a tree," "pretending to be in a different room," "getting on a little boat," "man with a stick on fire," etc.

hmm ok

1) their power depends on how physically close they are to sauron/mordor

2) they consciously weren’t unleashing their full power early in Fellowship bcos it didn’t seem worth it when they were just dealing w hobbits

3) they just woke up from a REALLY long nap and it takes them a while to fully come ‘online’

4) their power just waxes & wanes sometimes

5) hobbits are their One Weakness 

elves of arda ✹ gondolindrim ✹ headcanon disclaimer ✹ @gondolinweek

          Itarillë Vanisailë was the daughter of Turukáno Ñolofinwion and Elenwë Calimiel. She was only a child when the Ñoldor marched across the Helcaraxë, a treacherous journey where she lost her mother. Her father, always a serious nér, grew even grimmer after this tragedy and kept Itarillë close to his side.           The arrival of the Noldor in Beleriand allowed for Itarillë to exercise slightly more freedom than she had been allowed on the Ice, though Turukáno still would not allow her to wander far. As she grew into adulthood, Itarillë loved and resented her father in equal measure, for he was the only parent she retained and yet denied her the agency she craved.           Itarillë went with Turukáno to Nevrast, and while she loved the sea she missed the company of those few friends who had not quailed from her father’s intimidating presence, including the young healer Meleth who charmed her to distraction. She missed also her uncle Findekáno, a gay and jovial prince who indulged her more rebellious tendencies and shielded her from Turukáno’s anxiety. Itarillë grew restless in Vinyamar, chafing against her father’s stern watch, and eventually fled secretly to visit her uncle in Dor-lómin (and Meleth, who served in his house) without Turukáno’s leave. Turukáno lost his temper dramatically when he discovered her flight, an incident that resulted in his close friend and cousin Finrod taking him away on a journey to come to terms with his fears and losses.           Turukáno was gone for a year, during which time Itarillë finally felt she could breathe and discover what kind of nís she wanted to be. Finrod arranged for her cousins Orodreth and Tyelperinquar to keep her company while Fingon, Galadriel, and Aredhel kept watch over the band of youths; the cousins engaged in many lighthearted adventures and dramatics, including teasing Orodreth over his infatuation with the Sindarin princess Amathluin, daughter of the rulers of the Mithrim Sindar. Itarillë and Meleth flirted for several months, exchanging a few kisses and love letters before they decided that they were not fated to bond, settling instead into a deep and abiding friendship that would stand the test of time.           When Finrod and Turukáno returned, the distance between father and daughter had mellowed their tempers, and they were reunited with gladness. As Itarillë, or Idril as she became known in Sindarin, came of age, Turukáno gradually relaxed his vigilance over her safety and grew to confide in her of his plans to build a city safe from the dangers of Beleriand. Idril proved an invaluable counselor as he began work on Ondolindë’s construction, and Turukáno proved his trust in her by granting her a noble House of her own once they retreated into the city’s walls.           In the safety of Tumladen, Idril reassumed her Quenya name, and was known both as the Princess of Ondolindë and the Lady of the House of the Wing. She took this symbol from the swans she had loved in Vinyamar, having learned their language from her kinswoman Galadriel, originally of the Teleri of Alqualondë. Among the folk of the Wing were Itarillë’s friend Meleth and her house-carl Hendor, a footman she had befriended during her year in Fingon’s court.           Itarillë was a skilled dancer, both as a solo performer and with her friend Meleth as a partner, and for this and her habit of walking about the streets of Ondolindë unshod, she earned the epessë Telpevontál, or Celebrindal. She was for the most part removed from the politics of her father’s court, for she held more interest in dancing and tending to the palace gardens than quarrelling with her fellow lords. Nonetheless, when she held an opinion on King Turukáno’s policies, she was certain to make her voice known, and all respected her input.           Though Itarillë was not herself a hunter, she would sometimes accompany her aunt Aredhel, Lady of the Tower of Snow, on expeditions outside the city limits. She still yearned for freedom, and though the confinement within the white stone walls of Ondolindë was less stifling for her than it was for her aunt she wished to breathe the open air and have space to herself from time to time. When Aredhel left Gondolin to visit Fingon in Dor-lómin, Itarillë half-wished to accompany her, but she knew her place was at her father’s side. Upon Aredhel’s disappearance and her later death, Itarillë was deeply grieved, for she had loved her aunt dearly.           Though Aredhel perished, her son lived, though Itarillë knew not what to make of Maeglin Lómion, the cousin she never expected to have. His apparent apathy upon the execution of his father unsettled her, and though she was naturally sympathetic to a young ellon so cruelly orphaned his oddness made her hesitate to befriend him. It helped not at all that he seemed to shy away from her, even as he grew more confident in his position as the King’s nephew and revealed a more charming and charismatic side to the people of Gondolin.           Penlod, the Lairde of both the Pillar and the Tower of Snow after Aredhel’s demise, would still at times invite Itarillë to accompany them on hunts outside of Ondolindë. On one such occasion, Penlod also extended the invitation to Maeglin, and he eagerly accepted the chance to see some of the outside world. While on this ill-fated expedition, the hunters were attacked by white wolves from the mountains, and Itarillë and Lómion were separated from the rest of the group.           Lómion suffered a great injury in defending Itarillë from the wolves, and Itarillë, who had learned some healing from Meleth, insisted on treating his wounds. When conventional methods did little to staunch the bleeding, she insisted on Singing the wound closed despite Lómion’s great reluctance. Itarillë and Lómion both were strong in ósanwë, though Itarillë’s talent lay in perceiving the minds of others and Lómion’s in shielding his mind from any who wished to peer into his thoughts; Itarillë had long been curious—and, admittedly, a little suspicious—as to what lay hidden in her cousin’s heart.           As she Sang healing into Lómion’s hröa, their fëar mingled and Itarillë was shocked to discover that Lómion’s secret was his infatuation with her despite their close kinship, now rising to the surface of his thoughts. Astonished and not a little bit horrified, Itarillë faltered, retreating from his mind and succeeding only in making his injury worse. Luckily, they were recovered by Penlod soon after, and Maeglin was tended to by more experienced healers, but the incident deeply affected both cousins. They never spoke of it again, and Itarillë distanced herself from Maeglin more than she had already, engendering further bitterness between them.           When Turukáno marched with ten thousand soldiers to fight in the Fifth Battle, he first asked Maeglin to act as regent in absence, but he insisted on accompanying the King to war. Privately, Itarillë was glad to see him gone, for she trusted her cousin less with every passing year and did not wish to leave Ondolindë in his hands. Indeed, she was offended that her father had gone to him first with this request, and offered the regency to her only after Maeglin had refused. Nevertheless, when the warriors departed, it was Itarillë who ruled the city until the King’s return.           Not long after the disaster of the Nírnaeth Arnœdiad and her father’s ascension to High King of the Noldor, a Man arrived in Gondolin with a message from Ulmo. This was Tuor, son of Huor who had dwelt a year in Ondolindë as a child, and Itarillë was fascinated by the noble bearing and easy charm about him almost as much as she was troubled by Turukáno’s refusal to heed Ulmo’s ominous warning.           Itarillë befriended Tuor, and when Turukáno—encouraged by Maeglin—dismissed her counsel again and again, she and her new companion began to work together on a secret tunnel out of the city and into the mountains. As their collaboration progressed, Itarillë found herself growing deeply fond of Tuor, and gladly accepted his advances when he requested to court her.           At first Turukáno hesitated to see their love developing, but he recalled the last words of Huor his friend: “From you and from me a new star shall arise.” Meditating on this prophecy, he at last agreed to Tuor’s proposal of marriage, giving him the green stone known as the Elessar, once a symbol of his brother’s marriage, to his future law-son as a token of approval. Tuor took the stone and commissioned the smith Enerdhil of the Hammer of Wrath to restore it to its former glory and set it into a necklace he gave as a wedding gift to Itarillë. Tuor joined his wife as the leader of her House of the Wing; in only a year’s time, their son Eärendil Ardamírë was born.           Itarillë’s suspicion of Maeglin only grew in these years, for her cousin made no secret of his distrust and jealousy of Tuor. He gifted little Eärendil a small coat made of mithril, and while she was not so foolish as to deny such a precious gift, she resolved to watch him ever more closely. In Eärendil’s sixth year, Maeglin delved deep into the mines of Anghabar for longer than he ever had before, and Itarillë guessed he was preparing for some twisted scheme.           When at last Maeglin returned to Ondolindë, he was even grimmer and harried than usual; he would often approach Itarillë in private and attempt to speak to her, but his words would die in his throat and he would flee into the darkness. Itarillë confided her worries to Tuor, and her husband thereafter made an effort to remain by her side as often as he could. Shortly before the celebration of Tarnin Austa, Maeglin for the last time caught Itarillë on her own, insisting she take as a gift a curious dagger that would glow should the Enemy come near. Deeply troubled by this veiled threat, Itarillë set aside the blade and never used it, fearing it was somehow cursed.           At last the dreadful doom for which Tuor and Itarillë had long been preparing came to pass, for on the morn of Tarnin Austa the armies of Morgoth attacked Gondolin and its great Fall began. Once more Tuor and Itarillë begged Turukáno to flee the city, but at Maeglin’s urging he instead chose to fight and attempt to hold the city. Itarillë left at once to prepare her secret way, knowing that the hidden kingdom would fall and she would need to lead its survivors to safety, while Tuor reluctantly rallied the House of the Wing to arms.           As Itarillë made her way to her tunnel with Eärendil, she was accosted by Maeglin, whose mental defenses were now tattered and torn. Seeing clearly now that he had betrayed them, Itarillë attempted to fight him off, but with a few of his folk to aid him he captured her and dragged her to the cliffside. Raving and mad, Maeglin ranted that Morgoth’s victory was inevitable and it would be a kinder fate for them all to die at his hands than be tortured by the Enemy’s servants; he seized Eärendil and would have thrown him off the walls of the city had Itarillë not resisted him. He sneered at her for forgetting the blade he gave her, and in a moment of desperation their minds touched briefly one last time.           In that moment Tuor arrived, rushing to the defense of his wife and child. Maeglin swung his blade wildly, striking little Eärendil, but his blow was in vain for the child wore the mithril coat he himself had crafted. Swiftly, Tuor broke Maeglin’s arm, recovered Eärendil, and as soon as Itarillë had the boy safely in her arms he pressed Maeglin to the edge of Caragdûr and shoved him off the edge. Thus fell Maeglin, dying the same death as his father—but Itarillë was reeling, for in their very last moment of contact Maeglin had bared his soul to her entirely, revealing that his treachery had been coerced and that he was under a spell of Morgoth, and that he had been attempting to warn her of the attack for months. It was not enough to make up for the death and destruction and doom, but Itarillë could not find it in her heart to be glad that he was dead.           Yet there was no time to process her roiling emotions, for the battle raged on. Itarillë resumed her efforts to usher the commonfolk of Ondolindë into her tunnel, and Tuor led his warriors back into the fray, leaving his friend Voronwë to guard his family. Tuor forced his way to the battle at the gate, fighting alongside Ecthelion of the Fountain, where he slew three orc-lords and five Balrogs. He was forced to retreat when the walls fell and Ecthelion was injured, and the Fountain and the Wing fell back to the Square of the King, joined by the Tree on their journey. There a bitter last stand was made, in which Ecthelion perished killing Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, and at last Turukáno saw that Gondolin was indeed fallen. He ordered Tuor to lead the retreat of those who yet lived, though despite Tuor’s pleading he refused to flee himself.           Tuor and Itarillë led the surviving exiles through their secret way, giving charge of little Eärendil to Hendor, Meleth, and Voronwë while they ensured the safety of their people. As they fled into the mountains and the city crumbled behind them, the refugees were attacked once more by a Balrog, and were saved only by the intervention of the Eagles and by the valiance of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, who was dragged to his death by the demon he slew.           Idril and Tuor led the Gondolindrim on a long and winding journey to the Havens of Sirion, and after seeing their son married, departed out to Sea in search of Valinor where Idril had been born. There is more to their tale, and though it is filled with great sorrow it concludes in joy and family reunited against all odds, for though Arda was Marred it shall not be so forever.

Shoutout to all the kind strangers who make things more accessible for people like me

I showed up for my covid vaccination appointment at my pharmacy, and where to check-in was very unclear. I joined the back of one of the lines and stood there trying to figure it out for a bit, before asking a Latino family standing nearby, "Hi, could you tell me where the vaccination check-in is? I'm very confused."

They showed me to the right window and afterwards, when I was confused again about where I needed to go, explained each of the subsequent steps and what I needed to do for each one.

I appreciate them more than they know. Being autistic, I need clear directions and freeze when I don't know what to do, which made the appointment very frustrating at first. I asked for help, and that family helped me. It might have taken only a few minutes of their time, but they made my week.

I'm so grateful to them and everyone else who makes life accessible for me.

To all the kind strangers, thank you.

Damn I just realized that since the Rohirrim didn’t read or write (wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs) that means Eowyn couldn’t read or write and since she marries Nerdboy McGee who loves reading and writing more than anything you can your bottom dollar one of the first thing that happens in their courtship/marriage is Faramir and Eowyn wholesome tutoring sessions in the Minas Tirith library (!)