aesthetic for summer term: breezy button-downs pushed up to elbows, and worn leather shoes; delicate gold hoops grazing the jawline; soft voices reciting rumi and rimbaud in bed with hair up; no-fuss makeup (blotted berry lip stain, earthy eyeshadow applied with the fingers); natural hair tucked behind the ears; carrying piles of vintage books, glistening notebooks; no nail polish, just ink stains from writing and working hard
Four score and two months ago I was asked who said “I love you” first. As always, my timing is horrendous.
Astrid took a slow step into the Oderson’s barn. It remained one of the few un-renovated structures following the Integration; a mere single-story barn with an old, gable roof and wood that had soaked in every rain, every storm, and darkened over the years until rot had eaten away at its base. Cobwebs coated the walls and crawled over half-repaired barrows that hadn’t been touched in months. The stalls were filled with more supplies than hay; it was better used for storage than housing animals.
An onslaught of generations’ old musk wrinkled Astrid’s nose.
“Hiccup?” she spoke again into the quiet. The air tasted thick with the promise of coming rain. Perhaps tomorrow.
Something creaked overhead. Particles rained from the rafters, glinting in the streaming, afternoon light like fusty snowflakes. Astrid shielded her eyes with a flat palm and squinted at the thickest beam running the length of the ceiling a good seven feet beyond her reach.
There he crouched, pulling at old plow straps that had been strung over the beams so long they had to be peeled off after countless hot summers.
“Hiccup, how did you–” No. She didn’t want to know. “What are you doing? Your dad sent me to find you. He’s been looking for you everywhere.”
“Ah…” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the frustration. “Yeah, okay. Just lemme—” Two rusted chains fell. A bundle of leather strips followed. An old saddle. “That should do it.” Hiccup stood and Astrid couldn’t help wincing, even as he walked the boards with apparent ease, dusting with every other step.
With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel which the elves call mithril, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel, and studded about the brim with white gems, was set upon the hobbit’s head.
The Hobbit, Page 278
Elf-prince? Now what elf prince, with a wealthy parent, lives in the area? Who is still young but not terribly so? I’m not saying Legolas. But I am saying Thranduil so had a mithril coat made for him.
Once more, the Lord of Daevara had made his way home, after several visits from the council of Moraluna, to the visitation of Vivianna, and a brief check-up on his students’ journey. And with that, he found himself, entering the hallowed, empty chamber of his Master’s quarters. It was there that he saw it.. the very leather hoop that finely fit on the neck of that former lover. Not once had it moved since the departure, days ago.
He snatched it, looking over the design, hoe it had been torn from the jewel, how it still lingered with the scent of her’s, and how it reminded him of what had been done.
“ No more collars…” he muttered. “ ..there’s no longer any meaning to it.. “ The expression on his face shifted as he tossed the object into a mirror within the bathhouse. Swiftly, he prepped the bath with not blood nor warmth, but chilling water that was already hypothermic for the living.
Hiss! The machinations of his left arm steamed while bringing it to rest at sink fixture. Careful steps and the able- bodied, scarred tapestry dipped himself into the pool of arctic-like water.
It was a unique relief for the undead creature, the temperatures only numbing his limbs more, further a reminder that he was not of the living. How could the breathing truly understand what it was like? Was it more painful for the undead to feel emotion? Such questions were almost spontaneous madness.
There it was again, the collar. “ Why did you throw it in here, you fool? “ He thought. To which, the object had earned his pensive gaze before his cranium and locks of snowy white were met with the baptizement of the frigid, spring water. Sinking deeper and deeper, even when he could no longer physically bypass the marble flooring.
“ Why were you so nice to her? Why didn’t you just let her go and be free if your influence? “
“ Have you grown Soft?..”
Echoes, figments of his mind gnawed at him until they spoke of his weakness, causing him to reach for the bath’s edge, bubbling as he came to the with a snarling fit. The sharpened nails digging across the tile work before curling into his palm.
“ .. I am not Soft.. I am as hardened as ever.. in fact, it is better this way. Because everyone will be happier and they won’t have to worry about the grim future.. “ He returned, muttering in his head as he slumped into the pool for the time being.
“ Strength comes from the ability to take pain and move forward, rather than to prevent yourself from feeling at all. “ - A.D.D. - year 215
The snowman one was a gift for a coworker for secret-Santa ( she collects snowmen and I had no idea what to get her ).
For this one I wrapped the metal hoops in white yarn, then added on a ton of bells and shiny little crystal charms.
And the huge one was a gift for my father-in-law and his wife! I used faux leather on the hoops, and little shiny gold beads. There’s a deer head charm on the main piece, and little pinecone charms on the side pieces.
what is the mithril shirt and all the hype about it??
OK OK OKGAKSDF HELLO FRIEND LET ME EXPLAIN IT TO YOU
THERE ARE MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD
well ok first of all are you familiar with lotr? the mithril shirt is what bilbo passes down to frodo as seen here~
and frodo wears it on his quest to destroy the ring and yknow it saves his life a couple times
but bilbo gets it during his quest with the dwarves and guess who gives it to him?
Now the dwarves took down mail and weapons from the walls, and armed themselves. Royal indeed did Thorin look, clad in a coat of gold-plated rings, with a silver hafted axe in a belt crusted with scarlet stones.
“Mr. Baggins!” he cried. “Here is the first payment of your reward! Cast off your old coat and put on this!”
With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel which the elves call mithril, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel, and studded about the bring with white gems, was set upon the hobbit’s head.
“I feel magnificent,” he thought; “but I expect I look rather absurd. How they would laugh on the Hill at home Still I wish there was a looking-glass handy!”
also from the Fellowship movie:
GANDALF: Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave him GIMLI: Ah, that was a Kingly gift! GANDALF: Yes. I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of The Shire!
THIS THING IS WORTH MORE THAN THE FUCKING SHIRE AND THORIN GIFTS IT TO HIM LIKE NBD HAVE THE FIRST PART OF YOUR SHARE IN THE TREASURE
THIS THING THAT IS WORTH MORE THAN WHERE YOU LIVE
i’m just very emotional and it’s very important part of bilbo and thorin’s relationship to me ok yeah
and then it goes on to protect frodo on his quest and part of me likes to think that was thorin’s contribution to the war of the ring even though by that point he’d long since been dead