tolkien, you gave me a haughty haradric queen with nine cats who spy on people for her and then you were like "do not take this as indication of her clear awesomeness." like. sir. sir. SHE HAS NINE CATS.
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But when Húrin was gone from Menegroth, Thingol sat long in silence, gazing upon the great treasure that lay upon his knees; and it came into his mind that it should be remade, and in it should be set the Silmaril. For as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it, and he liked not to let it rest even behind the doors of his inmost treasury; and he was minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping.
In those days the Dwarves still came on their journeys into Beleriand from their mansions in Ered Lindon, and passing over Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, they travelled the ancient road to Doriath; for their skill in the working of metal and stone was very great, and there was much need of their craft in the halls of Menegroth. But they came now no longer in small parties as aforetime, but in great companies well armed for their protection in the perilous lands between Aros and Gelion; and they dwelt in Menegroth at such times in chambers and smithies set apart for them. At that very time great craftsmen of Nogrod were lately come into Doriath; and the King therefore summoning them declared his desire, that if their skill were great enough they should remake the Nauglamír, and in it set the Silmaril. Then the Dwarves looked upon the work of their fathers, and they beheld with wonder the shining jewel of Fëanor; and they were filled with a great lust to possess them, and carry them off to their far homes in the mountains. But they dissembled their mind, and consented to the task.
Long was their labour; and Thingol went down alone to their deep smithies, and sat ever among them as they worked. In time his desire was achieved, and the greatest of the works of Elves and Dwarves were brought together and made one; and its beauty was very great, for now the countless jewels of the Nauglamír did reflect and cast abroad in marvellous hues the light of the Silmaril amidmost. Then Thingol, being alone among them, made to take it up and clasp it about his neck; but the Dwarves in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’ But Thingol perceived their hearts, and saw well that desiring the Silmaril they sought but a pretext and fair cloak for their true intent; and in his wrath and pride he gave no heed to his peril, but spoke to them in scorn, saying: ‘How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by the waters of Cuiviénen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?’ And standing tall and proud among them he bade them with shameful words be gone unrequited out of Doriath.
Then the lust of the Dwarves was kindled to rage by the words of the King; and they rose up about him, and laid hands on him, and slew him as he stood. So died in the deep places of Menegroth Elwë Singollo, King of Doriath, who alone of all the Children of Ilúvatar was joined with one of the Ainur; and he who, alone of the Forsaken Elves, had seen the light of the Trees of Valinor, with his last sight gazed upon the Silmaril.
Then the Dwarves taking the Nauglamír passed out of Menegroth and fled eastwards through Region. But tidings went swiftly through the forest, and few of that company came over Aros, for they were pursued to the death as they sought the eastward road; and the Nauglamír was retaken, and brought back in bitter grief to Melian the Queen. Yet two there were of the slayers of Thingol who escaped from the pursuit on the eastern marches, and returned at last to their city far off in the Blue Mountains; and there in Nogrod they told somewhat of all that had befallen, saying that the Dwarves were slain in Doriath by command of the Elvenking, who thus would cheat them of their reward.
Then great was the wrath and lamentation of the Dwarves of Nogrod for the death of their kin and their great craftsmen, and they tore their beards, and wailed; and long they sat taking thought for vengeance. It is told that they asked aid from Belegost, but it was denied them, and the Dwarves of Belegost sought to dissuade them from their purpose; but their counsel was unavailing, and ere long a great host came forth from Nogrod, and crossing over Gelion marched westward through Beleriand.
Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again, that day when he first found the river! And now it was sending out its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in. Since his escape on that bright morning he had hardly given it a thought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all its pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now, with a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him, in the darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, and yet his, the home he had made for himself, the home he had been so happy to get back to after his day's work. And the home had been happy with him, too, evidently, and was missing him, and wanted him back, and was telling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully, reproachfully, but with no bitterness or anger; only with plaintive reminder that it was there, and wanted him.
The call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly, and go. 'Ratty!' he called, full of joyful excitement, 'hold on! Come back! I want you, quick!'
'Oh, COME along, Mole, do!' replied the Rat cheerfully, still plodding along.
'PLEASE stop, Ratty!' pleaded the poor Mole, in anguish of heart. 'You don't understand! It's my home, my old home! I've just come across the smell of it, and it's close by here, really quite close. And I MUST go to it, I must, I must! Oh, come back, Ratty! Please, please come back!'
The Rat was by this time very far ahead, too far to hear clearly what the Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painful appeal in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for he too could smell something-- something suspiciously like approaching snow.
'Mole, we mustn't stop now, really!' he called back. 'We'll come for it to-morrow, whatever it is you've found. But I daren't stop now-- it's late, and the snow's coming on again, and I'm not sure of the way! And I want your nose, Mole, so come on quick, there's a good fellow!' And the Rat pressed forward on his way without waiting for an answer.
Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under such a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a moment did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells, still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him for his new friendship and his callous forgetfulness.
which means dwarves have some sort of feast at midsummer woohoo information about dwarves and dwarf culture. The more I read the Silmarillion the more frustrated I get by all the gaps and the lack of histories from other perspectives. I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HALETH, OKAY. I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT MARACH LEADING HIS PEOPLE WEST. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON EAST OF BELERIAND AND I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON WITH THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T FRIENDS WITH ELVES BECAUSE THERE ARE LOTS AND THE ELVES DON'T KNOW THEIR STORIES.
and I want to know what Orcs eat and how they sustain their populations
same goes for the green-elves
because they object to the humans cutting down trees and killing animals and I'm sorry but if you're not hunting for meat and you're not cutting down trees for farmland then what the heck are you eating because maybe Elves have different dietary requirements but to the best of my knowledge a population of humans cannot be sustained by gathering alone
I want to know what the dwarves did before they started trading with elves
did they hunt? fish? farm? herd?
At what point did anyone domesticate animals? What animals? What animals even live on Middle-Earth? Or plants? Only the ones that inhabit the British Isles? Because it's a really big continent and one would think maybe I dunno
help tolkien why do you not tell me these thingggggs
who is doing the agriculture
because the elves don't seem all that big on it do they actually just live on starlight or what
also how come elves get all shocked and weirded out when humans age and die because uh
you've had contact with dwarves for thousands of years now
have you not been paying attention?
Because people kind of seem to be assuming that because we, by our standards, find elves attractive, that ~everyone~ on Middle-earth finds elves attractive, or at least ~ethereally beautiful~, and to some extent that is true. Hobbits, whose perspectives we're getting most of the time, seem to find elves quite beautiful, if tall and a little mysterious and intimidating. Men, too, though I dunno if Legolas gives them Uncomfortable Gay Feelings or what, because Elvish standards of masculinity seem pretty different from the ones that Aragorn or Boromir embody, and we have no idea how Middle-earth thinks of sexuality anyway, really, except that they seem to have some sort of concept of Courtly Love because Gimli's feelings for Galadriel seem pretty close to that? And Gimli, of course, famously thinks Galadriel is lovelier than anything he has ever seen ever, sorry Legolas, don't worry, he still loves you more no matter whose hair he's encasing in crystal.
But Gimli, I really feel, is probably the exception here because let's look at the dwarves, and the way they braid everything and they seem to have more hair by volume than anyone else, long flowing elvish locks bedamned, and the way they also have multiple engraved aglets and beautifully worked hairclasps and some of the women in the artbook have their beards just dripping with gemstones. I'ma go out on a limb here and say they like beards. They like hair. That's what they consider beautiful. They like big rounded ears and big noses and beards for everyone.
I'M WILLING TO BET THAT THEY DON'T THINK ELVES ARE THE HIGHEST STANDARDS OF BEAUTY.
If you can't imagine that, imagine a humanoid species that's completely hairless. Utterly bald, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, no hair on the back of their arms. No hair. Anywhere. And of course once you have gotten to know them it stops seeming quite so weird, and once one of them has become your friend you start seeing them as beautiful, because you like them, and you can't imagine how you ever found them ugly, and if you fall in love with one you can't imagine how anyone anywhere could ever not find them beautiful. And of course there will always be individuals for whom hairlessness is just something they like, their type, whatever.
But for most of your own species, their first impression of these guys is going to be GAH, AUGH WHAT. Like hairless rats. Or hairless cats. THAT'S JUST NOT RIGHT.
Which is not a good attitude! Standards of beauty are different all over, and beauty is so so much wider than whatever narrow ideal your society promotes, and entirely subjective besides, and also unimportant compared to one's character. I'm not disputing that, I promise.
But if you're writing dwarves, I think you should maybe try and remember that to you, elves don't look like Cate Blanchett, elves look like Ilia, except with Lady Loki's missing eyebrows. You can get over it with some pretty minimal effort, but it's still weird and not what you'd expect to find attractive.
And their body types are exactly the opposite of everything you've been conditioned to find attractive, the end.Goodbye.