Thorin made a special point of witnessing the lad’s celebration. Fíli and Kíli spent all their time gawking at Gimrís, and Frerin did naught but complain that he couldn’t drink the very fine spirit Bilbo had sent from the Shire for the occasion. Bifur was entertaining himself by walking through people. It was a very unnerving sight.
I love this. Thorin’s there to watch the celebration, Fíli and Kíli just want to stare at Gimrís, Frerin just wants to complain about not being able to drink, and Bifur’s having fun being dead and being able to walk through people. Different dwarves enjoy the celebration differently, and I love the variety.
“Thank you, Aunt Dís,” he said, dazed as he accepted it. The bag fell away to reveal a pair of very familiar throwing axes. He looked up, his eyes wide and white. She smiled.
“Fíli would like you to have them, no doubt,” she said.
I always have feels at this point. Years ago, when Gimli first started going to visit Dís, she couldn’t bear to part with Fíli or Kíli’s things, because the wound was too fresh. Now, it’s healed a little, at least it’s not as raw, and she can bear to part with something of Fíli’s because she knows it’s something Gimli would be able to put to good use, and Fíli would rather them be used than just sit in a closet somewhere.
The Ri Brothers had banded together and had made him a beautiful warm woollen travelling surcoat with a matching pair of trousers. The stitching around the edges was hardy and strong, and the colour was a warm rusty brown that made the red of his beard appear brighter. “Thank you!” Gimli said, and held it up to admire the gold thread interwoven through the edges.
Whenever they band together, they always do great things. Joining a quest, making fantastic traveling clothes, etc.
“Gimrís,” he said in awe. “You made this?”
She bristled. “What, are you calling me a liar?”
As much as I love their bickering, it sort of backfired in this case for Gimrís. She’s expecting their usual trade of loving insults, and instead Gimli’s honestly astonished at what a beautiful gift she’d made him and so she has to discuss feelings.
“Well,” she said, uncomfortable in his embrace, “I suppose you’re not completely awful.”
He rolled his eyes, and then he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Namadith. You’re not always a brat.”
“That’s as close as they’ll ever get, I suppose,” Mizim said with a sigh, dabbing at her eyes.
She’s probably not wrong about that.
A set o’ lungs on the bairn that echoed even in my ears!“
"Aye, and is that why you dropped him?” Glóin said, his eyebrow arching. Mizim folded her arms, her eyes glinting rather dangerously. Óin let go of Gimli’s shoulders like hot coals.
“Óin dropped the baby?” said Bombur incredulously.
“Aye, right on his precious wee head. Lucky he’s a Dwarf, or it could have hurt him!”
“Lucky he landed on his head, you mean,” Gimrís said. “Did the floor tiles crack?”
Gimli scowled at her.
“He wouldn’t stop wriggling!” Óin said. “I hadn’t delivered a babby before. He was the first – I was nervous!”
This is my favorite thing ever. Óin getting drunk and embarrassing Gimli, with unwitting help from Mizim and Glóin, by talking about his birth. Gimli should be lucky that he lives in an Age before there were cameras, or the three of them would’ve probably been bringing out naked baby pictures.
“Poor little mite, dropped on his head - an’ Mizim swearin’ a blue streak an’ all, an’ Glóin about to faint wi’ first-time-father jitters,” Óin crooned, patting the mortified Gimli’s cheek. “Still, it didn’t faze him at all! He just roared at me some more, an’ when I picked him back up he straightaway soiled himself all down the front o’ my apron t’ teach me a lesson.”
Drunk Óin is hilarious.
Gimrís was trying in vain to muffle her snickers by biting down on her hand. Gimli scowled at her. “You wait til it’s your turn. Eight years, sister. Watch your back.”
“Aye, not long until you’ve reached your centenary, little lass,” said Glóin, smiling at her.
She tossed her head. “If you tell such stories about me, I’ll put an emetic in your food.”
I approve of Gimrís’ method of getting them to not tell embarrassing stories about her. Gimli’s probably regretting that he didn’t think up a suitable threat before this all happened.
“And I saw her first!” Fíli snapped. “Thorin, tell him to keep his grubby hands to himself!”
Thorin shook his head. “Not for all the world.”
“If you do,” Bifur added, his face alive with gladness, “I will knock out every one of your teeth.”
Again, I love Bifur. He’s not even alive anymore, and he still will do whatever’s in his power (although that’s not much considering he’s dead) to make sure Bofur gets his shot at happiness.
“Khuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu, oh, never thought I would live to see the day,” Bifur said happily.
“You didn’t,” said Fíli sourly.
“Oh, hush,” Thorin told his grousing nephews, a lump in his throat. “Bofur is falling in love, his dearest wish, and they have the time to be together. That is no small thing.”
Okay, even though Fíli only said it because he’s grumpy that someone else is with Gimrís, that’s hilarious. And Thorin looking at those two and seeing what could have been if he and Bilbo had just wised up sooner? All the feels.
Thorin ignored him with as much dignity as he could muster – which was a lot.
Understatement of the Age.
Glóin drew Mizim aside. “Did what I just think happened actually happen?”
“You’ve got eyes,” she said under her breath. “Yes, our daughter is diving headlong into courting faster than a dropped hammer, and you, you old bear, are going to respect her wishes and leave Bofur alone, d'you hear?”
“I wouldn’t hurt him!” he protested. “He’s of the Company! I’d just… I’d just scare him a little.”
Overprotective Papa Glóin is no match for his wife. Mizim won’t let him threaten Bofur and risk chasing him off. She probably noticed that he’s a little insecure about the fact that he’s older than Gimrís and knows that it wouldn’t take much ‘scaring’ to chase him off even if he does love Gimrís.
“About sixty, sixty-five so far,” said Náli, the old white-haired training-master.
“Too many,” Thorin whispered. “One Dwarf is too many, let alone sixty-five!”
Oh Balin, what are you doing? You’ve lost your mind, it’s like Thorin said, your love of tradition is getting the better of you. Don’t you remember Azanulbizar? Do you really want another battle like that?
“The Balrog,” Thorin spat.
Gimli’s shoulders tensed. “Aye, but what of Durin’s Bane?”
Many faces blanched, but several Dwarves scoffed loudly. “An ancient thing long turned to dust! We have naught to fear from old tales!”
You are all gonna be eating those words soon enough.
“Ori,” Thorin said helplessly, and then he scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, not Ori. Youngest of us all, little Ori in your knitted gloves… Ori, you are but a hundred and eleven! I cannot… Ori, in Moria, your brothers…”
I wonder, if Ori had realized how soon Nori would be dying, and how alone Dori would be, if he still would have agreed. On the one hand, it’s important to have a historian along on something like this. On the other hand, he’d be leaving Dori alone with no one to care for.
“Aye, well, my uncle is more than a little deep in his cups,” Gimli laughed, and clapped Lóni’s back. “Ask him again when he is sober!”
When he’s sober, he’s still interested. It’s a good thing Thorin talked you out of going too, though, or else the Fellowship would have ended differently.
Not long after Gimli’s nameday, Dwalin was completely blindsided by a proposal of courtship from his deputy, the stony, severe Orla. He had been so surprised he actually said yes.
Orla turning Dwalin’s world upside down and proposing to him is awesome. I can’t lie, though, she’s my favorite OC in Sansukh, so I think a lot of what she does is awesome.
One of Dwalin’s troops made the mistake of joking about the relationship.
No-one made that mistake ever again.
I wonder if Orla took care of it, Dwalin did, or if they teamed up to do it.
“Hello, my boy,” he said softly. “Hello Thorin, son of Dwalin.”
“Oh, you did not,” said Thorin in disgust.
Everyone wants to name their kids after you, Thorin, you need to get used to it.
“You bloody stupid noble twit,” were Nori’s first words to Thorin, and he lowered his head and laughed softly.
“Aye, guilty as charged. But at least I wasn’t killed over a rigged game of conkers.”
Nori dying because of a rigged game of conkers is hilarious! I mean, it’s sad he died, but just the reason for his death being /conkers/ of all things? That’s hilarious.
“Tashf!” Bifur snapped, and then launched himself at Nori and wrapped him in his arms. Nori gasped as all the air was knocked out of him.
“Mahal below, what the…” he choked.“Bifur, hang on a bleedin’ second, let a body get his breaf back…”
“He’s a little excited to see you,” said Fíli dryly.
“Nah, really? Do tell,” Nori managed.
“D'you think he’ll do that to each one of the Company as they arrive?” Kíli wondered.
“Yes,” Bifur said emphatically. “I will, and stop talking about me as if I weren’t here.”
“Wait a mo, he’s speaking in Westron…!”
“He does that now,” Kíli said. “It’s getting him to stop that’s the trick. Hello Nori!”
I love Bifur. I love their reactions to Bifur here, but I mostly just love Bifur and how enthusiastic he is to welcome all of his friends when they die.
Dead, yes. Retired? Never.
Best summary of Nori’s personality ever, in less than 5 words.
He wanted to know who that young whelp was, following Bilbo around like a lost puppy!
Thorin, you’re jealous of a little hobbit, calm down. Bilbo didn’t forget you.
The boy looked confused, as though hearing such things out of the mouths of adults was not something he was used to. “You… don’t mind me having a secret hiding place?”
“Heavens no, Frodo m'boy. I have so many secrets they positively leak out of my ears; why in the world would I mind you having secrets of your own? Come on, put your bags down, and let’s go see about elevensies, shall we?”
I love Bilbo and Frodo’s interactions, especially when Frodo’s this young. And Bilbo having so many secrets that they leak out of his pointed ears is an understatement, especially when you consider his secret love of Thorin and the Ring, among others.
“Rivendell!” Frodo took a step forward out from underneath Bilbo’s arm, his large blue eyes wide. “Do you think I will ever see it?”
Fascination with elves must be in the Baggins DNA. None of the other Bagginses leave the Shire, though, so only Bilbo and Frodo have discovered it.
“Yes, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo said with one last longing look at Rivendell, before racing down the corridor. Thorin’s lips parted on a soft breath of surprise.
Then he berated himself for an idiot and a fool.
“An uncle?” He turned to Bilbo. “I didn’t know you had siblings. How could I not know that about you?”
He was a little disconcerted. Thorin wanted to know everything about Bilbo. Everything. He could not fulfil his promise otherwise.
Your married is showing again, Thorin. Also, just be glad you don’t have Frerin or one of the others with you this time, or they would’ve teased you so much about being jealous of the little hobbit.
He’d long grown used to seeing Bilbo’s proficiency in the kitchen, though it never failed to make his mouth quirk. Why was one blade so different to another? Perhaps he should have suggested that the Burglar dice his enemies.
That actually might have helped Bilbo learn to use the sword. Just describe different food preparation techniques and have Bilbo act them out with the sword.
Thorin smiled to himself. “Even stubborn, blind, arrogant Dwarves.”
“Even idiots with their great heads stuffed firmly up their backsides,” added Bilbo, his mouth twitching. Thorin started in surprise, and then shook his head, laughing softly beneath his breath.
“Blasted creature.” How he wished… oh, how he wished. His arms ached to hold the infuriating little Burglar. He wanted to touch Bilbo’s curly hair, and to feel those nimble little hands against the nape of his neck. He longed to kiss that quick and clever mouth, to nip that sharp tongue with his teeth. “Blasted, ridiculous, absurd Hobbit.”
As funny as this is, it also has all the feels.
“If I gave you a beard, would you leave me alone?!”
Mahal’s resorting to bribery, the plan to be annoying is working a bit more quickly than I’d suspected. Then again, it’s best to never underestimate dwarves.
Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood stuck the landing. What an ending!
Not only did we get satisfying closure on every plot thread, but it all ends with many new stories beginning. Ed and Al journeying the world in search of a way to prevent the fate of poor Nina Tucker from happening again. Zampano and Jerso searching for a way to get their bodies back. Ed and Winry raising children of their own. Al and May ending up together (probably). Mustang leading both Amestris and, from a distance, Ishval into a bright future.
Everything is perfect and it all feels so great.
It’s just… Perfect.
I rate the final episode of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood an easy 10/10.
Please look forward to my concluding thoughts on the show as a whole within the next few days.
In about half an hour, I will confirm the winner of the poll and close it, then formally announce what my next Liveblog project will be. Tomorrow, I shall overview Opening #5 and one or two OVAs. Once all four OVAs are completed, I shall take one day of rest, where I will post the concluding thoughts on FMA:B, which will likely be finished before then.
Then, after the day of rest, I will begin my next liveblog project.
See you then. As always, feel free to hang out on the (new) Discord! A link can be found in my blog’s About Me page.
* I shall get the hang of this combat. Eventually. I think.
* Dafuq is this woman with her boobies out in the middle of the forest?
* “Yes, swooping is bad.” - rofl
* “Some kind of sneaky witch thief.” - Alistair cracks me up.
* Jesus, shit got serious. 33% success rate…
* I have so many questions. OMG. So many questions. What enables me to overcome the taint? (lol taint - yeah I said it) Is it some kind of specialness? Or sheer willpower? Genetics? I need to know.
* Is it just me or is Cailan’s face structure very similar (if paler) compared to Alistair’s? Significant or old game limitation?
* Definitely feeling some more foreboding. Loghain strikes me as super untrustworthy.
* “If the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line [I don’t know. That could be a great distraction.] Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing.” Then poor Duncan sighs. - lmao
* Missing my ME flycam options I had set up. I keep trying to slow down/pause cutscenes to get a screenshot.
Hello, now! After Jaune was hit (and scarred) by a tree branch, Pyrrha is taking the time to explain to him (and us) about “Aura.” The manifestation of a soul, an energy that bears burdens and shields hearts. When projected outward, one’s Aura can both be a Spidey-Sense sorta deal and a protective barrier. And what’s more, the transforming weapons everyone is carrying are conduits to channel aura.
Well. If Jaune didn’t know any of this, no wonder he’s such a weakling. I still have to wonder how this guy got into Beacon… This is supposed to be a school for the best of the best, right?
Interspersed with the conversation, Ren gives us a front row seat demonstration of Aura badassitude.
Henceforth, for the entire remainder of this RWBY liveblog, I shall refer to Ren solely as “Discount Ling Yao.”