You look around Imladris. It felt so nice to be back home, but you weren’t going to say that. Not in front of these dwarves.
They had yet to find out that you were actually an elf. You told them that you were of the race of man and throughout the journey, you kept your hair in one big braid and your ears were always tucked under your hair and no one had suspected a thing. Well at least you thought they didn’t.
You felt bad but it was necessary in order for you to actually join in the adventure. Gandalf had sent word to you that he needed help and after a very long conversation with your father, you left to meet Gandalf in the Shire.
Gandalf had told you that Thorin would be very against you joining since you were an elf and you promised that you’d hide your heritage for as long as you could, but now that you were home you weren’t too sure you could.
Hey Guys, So I Know I Already Posted About This, But...
I feel like I need to post it again. So there’s a Doctor Who spinoff called ‘Class’ that includes teenagers fighting aliens, it’s basically like a British ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer’, but more modern day with aliens and the Doctor.
Anyways, it’s in major danger of being cancelled.
Why? You may ask. Well:
It received very poor ratings as it aired in the UK due to horrible advertising (many whovains have still never heard of it), and it only airing on BBC Three (an online-only platform) and BBC One but really late at night (nearly midnight, it’s basically the super bad death slot for shows). While it’s doing fairly well as it’s now airing in america, it might not be enough to earn it a renewal.
So what can we, as fellow whovians do? Well there’s a list of things.
1.) Send the BBC a quick email expressing your desire for a second series.
2.) Get those ratings up! Watch it legally. If you’re in the UK, use. That. iPlayer!!! Either that, or order the DvD. If you’re in america, or know american friends, tell them to watch it! Watch it live, record it (you don’t even have to watch it), or see it OnDemand. Just made sure you do it legally!
3.) Express your enthusiasm about the show. Tell the BBC ( @bbcone /@bbcamerica ) or Doctor Who ( @doctorwho ) on all forms of official social media. Also make posts about it, make art, do whatever. Just make sure it’s all tagged up!
4.) Also, there’s a petition that’s gained a lot of attention recently, and I know, I know. It’s a pain, signing a petition. It’ll only take like 2 minutes of your day, so please give it a shot. It does ask for your address, so if you’re not comfortable with sharing that, maybe use a fake one? Just make sure your email is real, because at least something on the signing should be. That petition can be found (here).
So in conclusion:
Basically, please please please try and get this show renewed. It’s about time that our favourite Sci Fi show gets another spinoff. It’s good too, good acting, writing, vfx, etc. Plus there’s some references to the Doctor Who EU (Expanded Universe), as well as a guest appearance from the Twelfth Doctor in the first episode. It only got 8 episodes, and never really got the chance to spread its wings. So please, please give it that chance. Let ‘Class’ be the next big thing.
Once upon a time Jack was visiting his kinfolks down in Greenbrier Holler. Every year, in the dead of winter, Jack’s aunt and uncle would have a big party at their cabin to fight off the cold, and they would have all the families from the holler over for a night of eatin’ and dancin’ and general merriment.
Well the much anticipated night rolled around again and Jack’s aunt and uncle’s cabin was full of kin and friends from all around the hills. Despite the snow and bitter cold a band showed up to play, and folks were dancin’ and having a good ole time when all of a sudden a knock comes at the door. Jack went over and opened the door and an old man stood there holding a banjo in one hand and an old rucksack in the other. “How do sir?” The old man asked. “Couldn’t be better if I was in a barrel of gold!” Jack replied. “If you would permit me,” the old man said, “I’d play you this here banjo for some food and a bed to rest my head?
Well Jack was the kind of person that would give a polecat a bed to sleep in, so he brought the old man into the cabin, sat him down by the fire, and loaded him up a plate of beans and cornpone. “Everyone!” Jack yelled, “Our guest is gonna play us a song.”
The crowd quieted down while the old man warmed the skin of the banjo beside the fire. He strummed a few notes then started playing just about the prettiest song Jack had ever heard.
Well pretty soon Jack was starting to feel sleepy. “It must have been the good food and good dancin’.” He thought to himself. So he leaned himself up against the wall to listen to that pretty ballad plucked by their guest. “I’ll just shut my eyes a spell.” He thought, and as his eyes closed he saw everybody else in the room start laying out on beds and couches and some people were flat out on the wood floor. Everyone hushed up and started dozin’ off.
The old man sang some words, but Jack could barely make them out:
This song I…yer head…fine…yer house…yer gold…
Jack woke up suddenly to the smell of a fire, and looking around folks were in a tizzy running out of the smoke filled cabin. Jack jumped up and ran out into the yard with the rest of his folks. It was broad daylight outside, “We must have slept through the night!” Jack said to his aunt. Jack’s uncle said it must have been that stranger that they’d invited in, but Jack and his aunt hushed the man sayin’ it was always bad luck to turn away a stranger.
A year passed by and the party night was here already. Jack and his kinfolks had lit the bonfires and were celebrating with plenty of food and dancin’ in his aunt and uncle’s brand new cabin. Just as Jack started dancin’ with pretty Margaret from up the holler, a knock came at the door to the cabin. Jack rushed over and there standing in the doorway was an old beggar woman carrying a reed flute in one hand and a worn out potato sack in the other. “A fine night sir!” The old woman said. “A fine night!” Jack replied. “If you would permit me,” the old woman said, “I’d play you this here flute for some food and a bed to rest my head?”
Despite the protests from Jack’s uncle, he invited the old woman inside the cabin, sat her down by the fire, and loaded her up a plate of beans and cornpone. “Everyone!” Jack yelled, “Our guest is gonna play us a song.”
The old woman took out her long reed flute and started playing the prettiest melody Jack had ever heard. Pretty soon he and the other guests were plumb tuckered out and everyone took a seat on chairs or on the floor. Some lay out under blankets, others piled up in the corners of the cabin, pretty soon everyone was fast asleep.
The old woman started to sing some words, but again Jack could barely make them out:
This song I…yer head…fine…yer house…yer gold…
Jack woke up to a similar scene as he had the year before. The cabin was all full of smoke and everyone was running around like headless turkeys trying to get out of the place. Out in the yard Jack’s uncle was a-ravin’ and a-rantin’ about the stranger they’d dare let into their house again. Jack’s aunt hushed the man up telling him that no one should be left out in the cold.
Well Jack helped his aunt and uncle build their cabin again for a whole year. They were fast approaching the party night and Jack was sure to not let anything bad happen this time. So he went up the holler to old Mr. Green’s cabin. Everyone said that old Mr. Green was a witch but nobody ever dared call him that, and Jack always figured the man was probably just more wise to the ways of the world than anybody else was.
Jack told the old conjurer about what had happened the last two years and Mr. Green told him not to worry then handed him an old hatchet. “What’s this for?” Jack asked. “Jack,” Mr. Green replied, “you make sure your aunt and uncle has their party, and when that beggar comes to the house you let them in, feed them, set them there by the fire, and when they play their song you hold that hatchet up to your head and it will make sure you won’t fall asleep, but you have to close your eyes and act like you’re asleep like the others.”
Jack took the axe and knew exactly what he had to do. He rushed back to his aunt and uncle’s cabin and set them to cleaning and cooking for the party they were sure to have that evening.
Around midnight and everyone was a-rompin’ and a-dancin’ and having the nicest time, when there come a knock at the door to the cabin. Jack rushed over and there in the doorway stood a little orphan child with a fiddle in one hand and a handkerchief sack in the other. “Please sir,” the child said in a soft voice, “if you’d let me, I’d play you this here fiddle for some food and a bed to rest my head?”
Jack just smiled and brought the child into the house. He sat him right there by the fire, and gave him plenty to eat just like Mr. Green had said, then quieted everyone in the cabin down. “Go ahead and play somethin’ fer us.” Jack said.
The orphan boy took out his fiddle and started playing the nicest, prettiest song any of them had ever heard, and as the crowd started getting sleepier and sleepier Jack quickly sat down over on one wall and hid himself behind some flour sacks. He held the hatchet up to his head and even though he had his eyes closed he didn’t fall asleep like the others.
Pretty soon the boy began to sing and this time Jack heard the words:
This song I play, That you may lay Yer head on a piller fine.
Yer house is nice, You’ll pay the price, For all yer gold is mine!
When the boy was finished playing Jack opened his eyes just a little bit to see him taking off his skin like it was a coat, and there underneath was a strange feathery critter with a face like a possum, with hands like owl claws, and feet like two goat legs. The critter quickly set to gathering up all the coins and jewelry from the pockets of the guests asleep and snoring there on the floor. Then Jack saw him go over to where his uncle hid all the family loot tucked in behind a rock on the mantle and he pocketed that too!
Jack quietly got to his feet and crept up behind the critter while he was busy stuffing all the money and gold into his handkerchief sack. And just as the beast was about to spit fire out and burn the cabin down Jack went SWISH! SWISH! with the hatchet a cut the critter’s head clean off.
The next morning Jack’s aunt and uncle and all their kinfolks started waking up and much to their surprise the sun was shining and the cabin was still in one piece. “This year’s party,” Jack’s uncle said, “was a mighty success I reckon!” And Jack’s aunt asked him where’d their stranger had gone to, but Jack just told her that the boy had played and played before Jack let him sleep up in the loft, then, this morning, a nice preacher and his wife came and took the boy to live at their house.
To this day Jack never did mention that strange critter to his aunt and uncle, never did say nothing about talking to Mr. Green, nor about the magic hatchet. “Best not worry them.” Jack thought to himself.
Okay. The scenes with Len and Jasper, pre-breakup was so cute! I was literally squealing as I watched it. Jasper, Eleanor and Sarah Alice are literally family goals. Ugh I hate Jasper’s father. I love that Jasper was willing to give up his only chance of happiness to make sure that Len wasn’t made to be in a different light. I almost started crying when Jasper was talking to his father and said “you don’t know what you just cost me.” I firmly believe that Sarah Alice or James is going to give Lenny that story book and tell her that Jasper only broke up with her to protect her. You could see when Jasper was hugging Sarah Alice, he was trying so damn hard not to break down and not worry Sarah Alice. I really hope that Len and Jasper figure things out and get back together. I also hope that Jasper tells Len why he did what he did. Here’s hoping next week is a bit better.
“Lammoth” is the scream of Morgoth with which he fights off Ungoliant.
In “Nightfall”, Fëanor and his seven sons mourn the destruction wrought by Morgoth, including the slaying of Finwë, Fëanor’s father, and swear to get revenge on him, in spite of the Valar’s disapproval.
“The Minstrel” is most likely about Maglor, son of Fëanor, who composed the song “The Fall of the Noldor” based on the Kinslaying.
In “The Curse of Fëanor”, Fëanor expresses his wrath and anger and
relates the misdeeds he commits, especially the Kinslaying, in pursuit
In “Captured”, Morgoth addresses the captive Maedhros, Fëanor’s son, and chains him to the Thangorodrim mountains.
In “Blood Tears”, Maedhros relates the horrors of his captivity and his deliverance by Fingon.
“Mirror Mirror” recounts how Turgon, in view of inevitable defeat, builds the city of Gondolin, aided by Ulmo (“The Lord of Water”).
In “Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns)”, Fingolfin recounts his Noldor army’s passage from the icy waste of Helcaraxë and the prophecy by Mandos about the Noldor’s fate; he reflects on his own and his people’s guilt and foreshadows their ultimate defeat.
In “Thorn”, Maeglin reflects on his situation and decides to betray Gondolin to Morgoth.
“The Eldar” is Elven king Finrod Felagund’s farewell to his people, dying from wounds sustained by saving his human friend Beren from a werewolf, thereby fulfilling his oath to the House of Bëor.
In “Nom the Wise”, Beren mourns his friend Finrod. Nóm means “wise” and was the name given to Finrod by Beren’s forefather Bëor.
In “When Sorrow Sang”, Beren sings about his love to the Elven princess Lúthien and his death at the teeth of Morgoth’s wolf Carcharoth. Last part is about Mandos listening to Luthien song about their grief experienced by being different in kin.
“Out on the Water” refers to the last dwelling-place of Beren and Lúthien.
In “The Steadfast”, Morgoth curses his captive Húrin who steadfastly refused to reveal the secret of Gondolin.
Imagine reuniting with your husband, Bard, when he thinks that you are dead
Request for: anon
Original request: “Can I have a drabble for imagine being Bard’s wife and him thinking you dead, so when he sees you with the dwarves in DOS he gets all emotional and maybe a bit angry? Thank you <3”
Pairing: Bard x Reader
Word count: 907
A/N: Terribly sorry for not posting in a while and messing up my ‘schedule’ (if you could call it that). Hope you enjoy this nonetheless.
Ori sat emptying out his sodden boot near
the water’s edge when an ominous figure loomed over him. The figure
raised its bow slightly and Ori slowly turned around in fear.
Noticing the newcomer, the company all snapped their heads round and
looked with fear towards the bowman.
Coming to the young dwarf’s aid, Dwalin rushed
in front of him, wielding an oaken branch. As fast a lightning, the
bowman fired an arrow through the branch. Kili jumped up in
retaliation, preparing to launch a rock at the bowman’s head.
-Maria/Mary Sunderland (silent hill 2)
-Fox Mulder (the x-files)
-Harley Quinn (batman series)
-Gene, Tina, and Louise Belcher (bobs burgers)
-Franky Fitzgerald (skins, gen 3)
-JJ Jones (skins, gen 2)
-Cassie Ainsworth (skins, gen 1)
-Effy Stonem (skins, gen 1-2)
-Shilo Wallace (repo! the genetic opera)
-whiteface/HER (imscared: a pixelated nightmare/steam edition)
“Dwalin! Have Miss Baggins report to my chambers immediately,” he commanded as he walked away from the balcony. Behind him was what looked like a looming army threatening to invade his hard-earned Mountain. Hah. Let them come. See how well they can try to infiltrate this fortress kingdom now that he had set traps along the way. He knew this day would come where they would be begging for his mercy, his wealth like the thieving rats they all were. Men of Laketown, Elves of Mirkwood, it didn’t matter. They were all vermin and soon, all will be wiped out as soon as his kin from the Iron Hills came to his call.
It was nightfall and he knew there would be no attack tonight. Perhaps by daybreak, Dain Ironfoot would arrive. No. He will arrive. When his king calls for him, he must obey. They all must obey. But no… they wouldn’t. Not even his own kin could be trusted. He didn’t have the stone. The Stone was what secured his rule and with it missing. He wouldn’t be anything worth fearing, worth respecting without it.
“But Thorin-!” Dwalin protested.
“KING Thorin, to you! That is an order and I expect it to be followed with no questions asked!” He snarled at the dwarf. He had enough of the insubordination amongst the company lately. He already knew one of them was hiding the Arkenstone from him and so only a show of force can keep them in line. “Do it!”
Once he was in his chambers, he cast off the armor and the heavy cloak. He washed his face in the basin near his bed as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. The crown on his head seemed to droop a little. Some hairs were sticking out oddly.
Look at you…. playing dress-up again,aren’t we? he heard the voice again. Poor, pathetic little dwarfling… it does not matter what you wear on your head or what you call yourself… you will never be king… you will never be anything but a little boy playing games… don’t you see? Couldn’t you hear them laughing at you? What king? What right do you have to call yourself king? What power do you REALLY have?
“You’re wrong… I AM the king…. This is MY kingdom, my Mountain! I-!”
Your kingdom? Ahahaha…. poor poor foolish dwarf runt… you can NEVER be King! The voice echoed and roared in his ears. What did you do to reclaim this Mountain? You did nothing! Did you yourself loose the black arrow that smote the Dragon? Did you find your father? Did you truly kill the Pale Orc? Did you protect your beloved brother as you promised? You are nothing but a failure. Behind all your pomposity and pretense, you are nothing but a frightened little child waiting for someone else to do the dirty work as you claim the credit. They know that. They ALL know that. And that is why they laugh at you, mock you. You are weak and will always be a weakling. AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!
“Enough!” He smashed the mirror with his knuckles. He breathed heavily as tried to block out the sounds of laughter. “Shut up! SHUT UP!”
Tolkien doesn’t get too detailed, but we do have a pretty good idea of what the dwarves were doing during this time. Some, of course, went and joined their kin in the Iron Hills, so they sort of skilled all the wandering. But for those who followed Thror, Thrain, and Thorin, here’s what we know:
After escaping from Erebor in 2770, they originally went south, “into long and homeless wandering.” We really don’t have much more information on this period, so interpret that however you’d like. A comment further down the road, though, suggests that they might have been in Dunland.
In 2790 Thror was killed in Moria, sparking the nine year War of the Dwarves and Orcs. During this time most of the dwarves would have been fighting in the Misty Mountains, though it’s not clear where the non-combatants were living, though it seems likely that they were in Dunland.
After the war ended in 2799, Thrain and Thorin “returned to Dunland”, which is the only clue that we have as to where they were living before the war. It says, though, that they soon started wandering throughout Eriador (the land west of the Misty Mountains), and eventually settled in the Blue Mountains. When, exactly, is unknown, but it was most likely somewhere around 2810ish - it was absolutely before 2841, as that’s when Thrain left.
The dwarves stayed in the Blue Mountains until Erebor was reclaimed in 2941.
SOURCES: LOTR Appendices
(The map above is an excerpt from Karen Wynn Fonstad’s Atlas of Middle Earth. I highlighted the parts that were important to this post: the blue shows the initial wandering after escaping Erebor; the purple shows the wandering after the War of the Dwaves and Orcs; the green shows Erebor, Dunland, and the Blue Mountains.)