I’m about to talk about Glorfindel again, though this time with Ecthelion. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe I’ve missed any and all fanfiction containing it, but I’ve always felt like there’s been something lacking overall in the stories/conversations revolving around the subject of them being Balrog-slayers. And that something is the fact that they became Balrog-slayers at all.
Don’t confuse what I’m saying here. I’m not talking about the laud and acclamation they get from people. I’m talking about the surprise or disbelief or outright shock those people must have exhibited when hearing about their deeds, at the mere concept of a Balrog being killed at all, let alone two of them over the span of a day. You don’t see that in fanfic (at least I never have). You see the first part of what I said aplenty (and I love it), but not the second.
Think about it. Prior to the fall of Gondolin it was probably believed by all and sundry, be he Elf, Dwarf or Man that Balrogs were undefeatable. That it was impossible to assail them, let alone kill them. Every single person who’s had the misfortune of fighting a Balrog has died as a result, with said Balrog happily moving along to the next poor Elf. Even mighty Feanor himself (that was probably a clincher in itself to establishing the terror of Balrogs). Centuries go by and still no one could kill these things. I mean, they always win! Every single time. It’s no wonder they were so feared in Beleriand, so dreaded by everyone. Part of me wonders if it actually got to a point of belief among some people that Balrogs literally couldn’t be killed, at least not by any creature not among the Ainur.
But Glorfindel and Ecthelion did.
That news had to be so momentous, so earth-shattering and ground-breaking that yeah, I wholeheartedly believe that the feats of these two new heroes spread like wildfire.
I would sincerely love to read a story about Tuor’s people coming into Sirion straight from the crags of the Echoriath. Unless by messenger or Cirdan receiving word from the waters, no one knew that Gondolin had fallen yet until Tuor and Idril and all those survivors arrived. And with them came the account of how it happened, detailing of how Orcs and Balrogs attacked their city. And then the audience hears that two of those Balrogs were killed. Killed. Solely by two Elves. Can you imagine the hope that must’ve inspired in everyone? Especially at such a time when everyone’s home was being destroyed? That whoa, Morgoth’s deadliest creatures can actually be defeated. We actually can beat them.
Because before this point, killing a Balrog was unheard of. I mean, face it, the very term Balrog-slayer wasn’t even a term (it certainly never existed in anyone’s vocabulary). And for over two whole Ages they are the only two people to achieve such a feat until a certain bridge in Khazad-dum. Glorfindel and Ecthelion are the only two mirroanwi in all of recorded history to do it.
Believe me, I’m not discrediting or demeaning any other hero of the legendarium or lessening whatever heroic actions they had done (including the unnamed heroes). It just makes sense why those two went down in history as greatly as they did, why they are so admired and renowned. They did what should’ve been impossible.
Seriously, I would love to read a fic about the Gondolin refugees arriving in Sirion, when Glorfindel’s and Ecthelion’s stories are told for the first time. Or later of someone attending the Feast of Glorfindel and hearing about it there. I love imagining what peoples’ initial reactions must’ve been. It’s no wonder songs were composed about it.
You know, writing about this really makes me wonder what Morgoth and/or Sauron thought about this when word reached them. There were only seven Balrogs and now two of them are dead (one of them their general), and at the hands of two random Elves. Losing two of those specific Umaiar must’ve been a blow, but it had to have been a blow all on its own that they were killed at all. What did they think? How must’ve they responded? Like “yay! Gondolin’s dead!” but “WHAT?!” I’d hate to be the sucker that had to report that to them.
Maybe it was similar to the response garnered from Fingolfin’s duel with Morgoth. In that yes! victory was theirs, but instead of jubilation there was resounding silence.
Okay, so I saw this post, and my brain exploded. Because I love Gimlas and I love Tolkien’s languages and combining them makes me very happy. So, have a two-part fic with sappy pining Gimlas, some family quarrels, and an eventual happy ending.
Sindarin translations are at the end. (If anyone has any corrections for my translations, please educate me! I’m getting better, but I’m still learning and I’m fairly sure I’m making at least a few mistakes. -whines- Grammar, why?)
truly had not intended to make a habit of it. It had been an accident
at first, after the terror of not knowing where Gimli was during the
Battle of Helm’s Deep. On seeing the dwarf hale and whole, if a
little bloody, he had called out, too relieved and grateful and
joyous to still his tongue “Ai, Gimli, melethen, guren linna cened
predictably, had rolled his eyes and fixed him with an impatient
stare. “Westron, blasted elf! You know I can’t understand your
fancy trilling. I should speak to you only in Khuzdul, and teach you
a lesson in civility!”
Legolas clapped a hand onto Gimli’s shoulder. “I am glad to see
you well, melethen.” He said, softer and more subdued, but no less
happy. Gimli eyed him from under his helm, then grinned behind his
beard and returned the sentiment. Well, most of the sentiment, but
Legolas didn’t care. As long as Gimli was alive, all was well.
Don’t play the sound yet! Take a moment to imagine the Battle of Five Armies in the end of “There and Back Again”, when every dwarf, elf, hobbit and man has had his hero moment - all but two. We pan over the battle field to where Thorin is lying, wounded and dying, with his nephews fighting honorably to protect him. Imagine a pale orc’s roar of victory and a groan of agony and pain as Kíli is struck down. See the shock on Fíli’s face, the breaking of his heart through his eyes. Hear him calling his brother’s name, then sprawling to his knees, holding Kíli’s head din his lap until all life has drained away. See Fíli, driven to tears and madness, turn to look upon the pale orc, grab his sword with bloodstained hand, rise up and…
*play the sound*
I take no responsibility for heart-break, teary eyes, angst or otherwise sad and unbearable Durin feels.
To celebrate christmas and the end of the year, along with reaching 1,5k followers (you guys are the best I love all of you so much!!), I want to make a “blogrates”. I’ve seen a lot of holliday themed blogrates lately, and decided to put my own twist on it.
Rules - Must be following this nerd - Reblog this post - Send me an ask telling me your favorite thing about the Tolkien universe + 3 facts about yourself
Format under the cut, blacklist “agnes does blogrates” if you don’t want to see them on your dash!
Okay but imagine at the coronation Thorin going down the line of the company having them step forward and thanking them each individually for everything they risked/lost on their quest. He finally gets to Blibo, who is trying so hard to stay still, but he can feel the eyes of every single dwarf and elf and man on his face and can’t help but fidget.
Bilbo steps forward to meet Thorin but he trips confound it on the too long dwarf pants they didn’t have time to hem since the coronation was so rushed after they reclaimed the mountain, and oh oh oh he’s falling until steady hands rest on his shoulders and there’s a split second of frozen embarrassment, but before he can even feel the heat flood his face all of a sudden Thorin’s forehead is touching his and Thorin’s hand is on the nape of his neck and Thorin’s hot breath is hitting the tip of his nose and the skin above his top lip and the entire hall is deathly quiet but Bliblo can hear his heart pounding in his ears and the blood rushing around his head.
After a moment, Thorin takes a slow, deep breath and whispers, “Burglar,” then clears his throat when it comes out as a croak and his hand tightens on the back of Bilbo’s neck, “Master Baggins… Bilbo, I thank you. For everything.”
Bilbo can still feel the flush lingering on his skin long after Thorin finally releases him and continues on with the coronation duties. He’s going to like Erebor just fine.
Aftermath of BOTFA (Thorin, Fili and Kili survive, as per many of our headcanons!) Thorin begins sneaking off during the night, and your curious nature gets the better of you! What you find, however, is not entirely as sinister or worrying as you’d expected…
(This is total fluff, but I’m currently writing a smutty sequel!)