omg. I’m a snob about everything and poetry did not escape my web, but with poetry I’m not a reasoning snob. I’m not a big fan of Margaret Atwood? As a poet, I mean, I like at least 1.5 of her novels. Weirdly I also prefer Sylvia Plath’s prose to her poetry, though that’s pure sentimental attachment… I don’t feel like—I don’t think of my taste in poetry as being founded in ‘craft’ in the same way as my taste in fiction (sometimes) is, I guess?? That’s a stupid way of saying that. I just don’t ever know what’s going on or why I latch onto a poem, and stuff where I can detect the magic use of language etc. very often leaves me cold. Which is normal, especially with such a condensed form, I’m just… I’m trying to come up with an ‘opinion’……
I’m way out of my comfort zone, drawing gore (I hate gore ><) and playing with light and shadow which I don’t even start to KNOW how to handle XD
Fanart inspired by “super great terrible please anyone stop annatar” fic Selected dialogues from @simaethae (everytime I try something new it’s on your fic sorry )
Basically it’s a torture story (isn’t it the resume of there relationship? XD) but I love this one because Annatar is posing himself as the good cops here instead of torturing Tyelpe himself. So I try to make him a clear bright warm presence next to suffering tyelpe, ready to offert love and comfort… if only he gives up XD
anyway I’d like to campaign for the Bilbo Baggins tag to be changed to Bilbo Baggins | Bilba Labingi, since you never know when you’re going to get some new readers on AO3 who are coming to Hobbit fandom from reading the untranslated Red Book of Westmarch
but see, with thingol i have always had the impression that he is really *committed* to his impulses. this is delightful, tho *chinhands*
No I agree! Commits in the sense that he acts on them and acts HARD, lol, though of course we get a lot of dramatic instances of him changing his mind. There doesn’t seem to be anything Thingol can’t pull back from, down to and including attempted murder. I also don’t always know how to translate with the timescale—like, from Thingol’s perspective, is everything we see in the Lay equivalent to your mom’s initial two-week freakout? There’s a pretty good argument to be made for ‘no,’ but on the other hand I sometimes wonder if Thingol has enough sidelong self-awareness to play that card—maybe not the “species difference shaping my subjective experience of time” angle so much, but he seems like he might have the kind of family tyrant’s submerged sense of his right to be unreasonable ‘within limits’: a two-year tantrum, how much is that to ask for?
Invocation to the Witch Ancestors of Hellenistic Lore
Oh great witches of old, whose legends and names continue to penetrate the minds of all. Great women of magic whose gifts are accessed by the witches of today to work their spells and rites, hear my calls.
Erichtho, Thessalian woman, dreaded by all, come to my aid. Conjuror of the dead and feared leader of the witches of Thessaly, I invoke thee!
Medea, fabled witch of many drugs whose power is legend among us, come to my aid. Poisoner and healer, great daughter and priestess of Hekate, I invoke thee!
Kirke, great daughter of Hekate whose name is known by many, enchantress of lore and you who have been called goddess, nymph, and witch alike, come to my aid. Great sorceress whose skill in drugs and poisons is surpassed by none but the lady Hekate herself, I invoke thee!
Simaetha of legend, you who bound the errant Delphis back to thy side, come to my aid. You whose skill in binding and erotic magic is known by so many, I invoke thee!
Daughters of Hekate all, by the name of your three-formed mistress, I compel thee to come to me and provide me with your aid in my works of witchcraft. Fabled witches who I honor above all the shades of the departed, I invoke thee. Come upon your fellow witch and give aid to my spells!
I hope you don’t mind but I’m curious: what makes you think of melkor as creative? It’s not how I interpret his character but I always find other people’s takes interesting so I’d love to hear what makes you think of him that way!
Oh no, I don’t mind at all, no worries :) I just hope I can infuse some sort of sense into this!
My tendency to interpret Melkor as a being of creation is predicated upon a handful of quotes in the Ainulindalë chapter, such as this one: ‘‘[F]or desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own …’‘ Moreover, I have a little pet theory regarding what instigated his rebellion during the Music—or rather what reinforced that rebellion subsequent to the Music—and this also ties in with why I view him as creative. Melkor is said to share in the ‘‘gifts of his brethren,’‘ by which I am assuming that whatever ideas he would generate would essentially be an amalgamation of the bits and bobs of knowledge imparted to the other Valar; therefore, said ideas might come across as alien or disturbing or unnatural in the eyes of the Valar seeing that ‘‘each comprehended only that part of the mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly.’‘ The text goes on to state that understanding derived from listening to each other, yet often Melkor isolated himself in the Void in his search for the Flame, thus precluding the possibility that the others might deepen their comprehension of him.
Another pet theory of mine is that for the Ainur sense of self is somewhat more insular than we experience it, in that it is threaded through that one province they are drawn to (Ulmo and water, for instance). In my interpretation, Melkor’s sense of self is founded upon his existence as a creator. Thus he rebels during the Ainulindalë—he is not going to align to the norm and pursue another’s theme; he is going to get his thoughts out there, and tentatively I suspect there might be a need for acceptance somewhere in there as well. Following this train of thought, when Eru says, ‘‘And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite,’‘ I reckon Melkor experiences it as a denial of his creative abilities: his thoughts, which give rise to the discord in his song and from whence, ideally, would spring creations, are not fully, unequivocally of his own making, and this Melkor might feel as loss of autonomy and a stripping away of his identity. Consequently, his rebellious streak carries over into Arda proper as a reaction to that threat—it is denial: striving against Eru’s designs would nullify both the plans themselves and that poisonous little statement.
In the same vein, I see him as possessing his own brand of creativity, inasmuch as the atrocities he inflicts upon the world, both on a smaller scale (torture, though this largely rests upon headcanons) and on a larger scale (wars and arguably the creation of Orcs), are upped with the passage of time, essentially conveying ‘‘surely this would not be part of Eru’s schemes’’ and thereby aiming to confirm that Melkor is a creature independent in his creation. As something of a tangent, I am wondering if perhaps Melkor’s perversion of the Elves into Orcs may be construed as a wish to alter them so much that Eru would repudiate all claims of ownership so that Melkor would at last have something of his own. This could likewise be applied to Melkor’s marring of the initial work of the Valar in shaping Arda.
Whew, I am sorry for this veritable block of text. My thoughts about Melkor have been stewing for quite some time, and given the opportunity, they kind of bled all over the place. Well, I hope this made at least a tiny bit of sense, and of course these are just my interpretations—please feel free to disagree with anything in here!
credit for passive-aggressive coinage idea goes to simaethae
The coins of Beleriand are all massively passive-aggressive.
For one thing, there was the debacle with the commemorative ‘Death of Fëanor’ coin, struck by the mint in Barad Eithel. The denomination was too low (”Father is worth more than that!” Caranthir remarked) and worse, the depiction of Fëanor exploding into flame looked more like an anus than anything else. Only thirty coins were made before they were removed entirely from circulation.
This has made the ‘Death of Fëanor’ the most collectible First Age coin. Many numismatists of Númenor desired it so greatly that they sailed away to distant, forgotten corners of Middle-earth, seeking the coin but never to return.
There is, of course, a ‘Death of Fëanor’ coin in the Mathom-house at Michel Delving.
is making me wonder if actually literally every elf is a fucking noble.
everyone’s immortal and descended from the cuivienenyar! maybe the
whole “king of the noldor” thing is just finwean bullshit. maybe elves
routinely declare themselves, like, Lord Margrave of This Part Of The
Valley, It Would Have Been The Whole Thing But My Cousin The Baroness
Already Called Dibs. the presentation to outsiders is just elaborate
roleplay to indulge whoever gets bitchiest about it
This actually has got to be kind of how it actually happened in the beginning? Everyone was parentless, sibling-less, language-less, no such thing as any lineage at ALL, and they were going around just naming everything they saw, so it must’ve been extremely informal at first. But then, they are immortal, so a lot of them would remember this first-hand! Why would elves place so much importance on human-esque concepts and systems of royalty and lineage (given that they are IMMORTAL, a heir is not really an heir, an heir is a worst-case-scenario option) anyway. If I had to make an uninformed guess I would think immortal creatures whose ancestry is so simple and has so few members would be overwhelmingly biased towards whoever is oldest, since there are 0 tangible downsides to age for elves, but that doesn’t seems to be that big of a deal to them.
“There’s porridge in your hair,” Maedhros said unhelpfully, not getting up from his sprawl upon the flagstones before the hearth.
“The children had a- a difficult night,” said Maglor, clutching tighter at the writhing, Elros-sized bundle wrapped in his cloak. “Would you watch them for an hour while I clean up?”
“I would,” said Maedhros. “But I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
Maglor readjusted his grip on Elros, who was trying to bite him through the fabric. “You’re lying on the floor.”
“I’ve been struck by inspiration.” Maedhros kicked out and knocked Maglor’s second best harp from its stand and then dragged it within reach with the toe of his boot. “I have to finish this composition right now.”
“You’re holding that upside-” the discordant screech of a hook on harpstrings cut Maglor off.
“You’ve always had very limited ideas about music, little brother.”
“Raising these children is hard enough as it is without-”
“I have- what was it? I have millions of ideas and I represent a new generation trying to express themselves in a broken world. I will go down as the voice of this generation, of this Age. I am so credible and so influential and so relevant that I will change things.” The harp screamed. “So, while I’m sympathetic, my development as a musician must come before any mundane concerns.”
A suspicion dawned; Maglor knew exactly who had first spoken those words and why, for all it had been hundreds of years ago. “I’ll…I’m sure that I can manage on my own,” he said.
“I’m sure you can,” said Maedhros. “It’s not as though you’re trying to raise five children while your brother makes excuses and fiddles with a harp. Imagine how much harder that would be.”