Tolkien Blog Party | Tag

     Hallo and happy Saturday to you all! You may already be aware, but today concludes the Tolkien Blog Party hosted at The Edge of the Precipice—click here to read the original post and join the fun!

    I’d originally planned to do a post on the humanity of Tolkien’s characters (particularly Boromir and Thorin) and Why It Matters—however, because of my Extraordinarily Busy Schedule, it won’t be done in time for Tolkien Week. (I do plan to finish it though!) Nonetheless, I do have for you today some answers to a lovely Tolkien-themed tag! So without further ado, let’s get started. ;P

1. The Shire:  What place in Middle-earth do you think you would feel the most like home for you?

    To be completely honest, I’ve got to say the Shire. Yes, yes, I know it’s what everyone says, but that’s for a reason, I think. It’s so very beautiful and home-y and comfortable—and anyway, who wouldn’t want to live in Bag-End?

2. Bree:  If you could create a Middle-earth-themed restaurant, what would you serve there?

    I’m picturing it as kind of like a bed-and-breakfast. There would be lembas bread with butter and preserves, perhaps some athelas tea (I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I don’t really care), and mostly a hobbit-ish cuisine.

3. Rivendell:  Where in Middle-earth would you like to hang out with your friends for a week or so?

    Frankly I’d love to go to Rohan. It’s so beautiful and free—and horses. Who could say no to horses?

4. Moria:  Have you ever delved into the history of Middle-earth (or the history of Tolkien's creative process)?  If so, did you learn anything cool you'd like to share?

       …yes, actually. Perhaps a wee bit too much. This is not a boast, but just a fact, when I say that I’ve probably read almost everything Tolkien ever wrote. I’ve also discovered a serious interest in philology and the creation of his languages, which are incredible.

This (very long, but worth every word) essay is on Tolkien’s invented languages.

5. Lothlorien:  Would you like to sleep in a tree?

    That sounds like great fun!

6. Edoras:  Do you like horses?

    Very much so. (See response to the Rivendell question…)

7. Minas Tirith:  Have you ever dressed as a Tolkien character, whether for a convention or Halloween or anything else?  (Bonus fake internet points if you share a photo!)

    No photo, sadly, but yes, I have! It was some time ago, but I’ve been Arwen, Luthíen, and an archer vaguely reminiscent of Legolas. 

…why is this picture so dramatic?

8. Erebor:  Do you have any Middle-earth merchandise you particularly treasure?

    Yes, I’m afraid I’m That Person. I’ve got a full-size (and very sharp) replica of Andúril, Aragorn’s sword, and I’m quite proud of it too. 

9. Mordor:  Have you ever read anything by Tolkien that wasn't about Middle-earth?

    Yes! (Should I be concerned that the answer to all of these are yes?) Anyhow, I’ve read a number of his letters, his essay on philology, Letters from Father Christmas, and a number of his short stories including (but not limited to) Farmer Giles of Ham and Smith of Wooton Major.

10. The Grey Havens:  How long has it been since you last ventured into Middle-earth via book or film?

    The last time I’ve read the books in their entirety was last February for a retreat (about which I posted), but I’ve since then re-read The Hobbit and re-watched all six of Peter Jackson’s films. (Which I do love, but they are not as good as the books for Obvious Reasons.) 

    Well, that’s it! I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll try to get that other post out soon (even if it’s not in time for Tolkien Week). 

Soli Deo Gloria, 

Astrya

Inklings | September Edition

   What-ho! 

    Well, I’m back (to quote Samwise Gamgee). Back to internet access and homework and Such Things. The next part of my (still unnamed) story will be coming sometime soon, but now it’s time for the September Inklings prompt! This month it’s a scene in a kitchen in book or film. 

   Today’s selection comes (somewhat predictably, I admit) from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. It may also serve as a Celebration Post, for today in 1937 The Hobbit was first published and tomorrow’s Hobbit Day (being the combined birthdays of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins.) So, happy Hobbit Weekend, everyone (that’s not what it’s officially called, of course, but it just seems to make sense… oh, bother. You get what I mean, right?)

I’m quoting from the book, but this scene of the movie was done So Well, so I’ll be using pictures throughout. (Credit to New Line Cinema, of course!)

    Right.

    Ahem. Anyhow, let’s set the scene. Picture a large kitchen—Bilbo’s kitchen, in fact—beautifully furnished with wood carvings and porcelain plates and hobbit-sized pantries in the back. That’s where our scene begins—until our lovely friends the dwarves arrive and begin singing riotously, of course.

    What fun!

    The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses. 
    “I suppose you will all stay to supper?” he said in his politest unpressing tones.
    “Of course!” said Thorin. “And after. We shan’t get through the business till late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!”
    Thereupon the twelve dwarves—not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf—jumped to their feet, and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: “Please be careful!” and “Please, don’t trouble! I can manage.” But the dwarves only started to sing:  

          

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

Blunt the knives and bend the forks!

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates–

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!

Pour the milk on the pantry floor!

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;

Pound them up with a thumping pole;

And when you’ve finished, if any are whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!

So, carefully! carefully with the plates!

    And of course they did none of these dreadful things, and everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, while the hobbit was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they were doing. Then they went back, and found Thorin with his feet on the fender smoking a pipe. 

    Isn’t this such a fun scene? Poor Bilbo’s quite overwhelmed (he’d like to insert here that those dwarves had No Blithering Right to toss his mother’s finest china about like that, and even though they did become his friends he still Vividly Remembers the shock it gave him) and the dwarves aren’t the most polite of guests. 

    It’s nothing, really, compared to what happened Afterwards (see the Burglary Contract, in which Incineration is mentioned multiple times) but still quite overwhelming—from Bilbo’s side—and laughable—from mine. Though, if the likes of Thorin Oakenshield and Company came waltzing into my kitchen with No Manners Whatsoever, I’m not sure I’d react any better than Bilbo.

Said reaction right here ^

    I’d probably smack His Majesty in the forehead with a spatula and tell him to get out until he learns a) manners and b) that No One is too important to sing fun songs. 

    Ya hear me, Thorin? That’s right. 

    (I would like to note, here, that I actually Rather Like Thorin… but the admonition remains.)

    Anyhow, this is one absurd and wonderful scene. What would you do if twelve dwarves (likely in need of a Very Thorough Bath) showed up at your door?

Namarië, 

Astrya

A Wee Literary Interlude

     Well, hallo there! 

    Before we delve into the wonder-that-is-the-Tolkien Blog Party, I’ve decided to try something new.

    Over the course of—I don’t know, some time, I’m going to be posting sections of a (currently untitled) short story as I write it in three or four parts. Depending on how it’s received here and what I end up deciding to do with it, my goal is to get it published! 

    I will be out of town without any access to the internet for the next week, though, so this is all the story you’ll get ‘till I’m back. Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger.

    What? Cliffhanger? I didn’t say anything about a cliffhanger. How could you possibly think that of me?

    …right.

    Anyhow, here’s the first bit. I’d appreciate any constructive criticism, as usual ;)

——

            It’s raining when he comes for the first time. Big, fat droplets that crawl down the windows like spiders. So naturally the first time he knocks, I can’t hear.

(Angel does. She flees to the basement, whimpering. Storms and strange men and one exhausted human are too much for a poor dog to handle.)

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Was it just my imagination, or is someone at the door?

The knock comes again, louder. I amble my way to the door, clutching my mug of hot chocolate for security. (Since my dog so rudely left me.) Whoever can’t handle me in pyjamas armed with a piping hot pint of sugar has no right to be pounding on my door at ten thirty at night in a blithering thunderstorm.

I hold my breath as I pull open the door, just an inch. A strange voice greets me, low, with a thick accent. I can’t tell if it’s Spanish or French.

“You are Isobel Langford?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” I manage, somehow suppressing my shock. 

I should close the door. Close the door, Isobel. 

But my body refuses to obey. Instead I stand there gaping at this strange man who has yet to explain his reason for interrupting my previously peaceful night.

“William Batiste, at your service.” He bows politely. Is he mocking me?

I blink rapidly, wondering if I’ve somehow fallen asleep and this is all a bizarre dream. 

I know that name. 

But the cold rain pelting onto my bare feet jolts me to reality and I know with utter certainty that something’s wrong. 

“Right,” I drawl, voice dripping with sarcasm, “and I’m the Queen of England. Who are you really?”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” he snarks back, white teeth flashing against the dark. So he’s got a sense of humour, whoever he is. 

(He used to, too.)

“I have told you the entire truth, Isobel—”

“Miss Langford, if you please,” I interject. “Until you prove you are who you claim to be.”

For response he steps into the light and pulls back his hood.

I know those eyes. That face. 

Shock overcomes me and I feel myself falling. No, no, no, Isobel you fool, you’re not about to faint just because there’s an identical twin to a dead man on your doorstep—

But he’s got the same name, too.

The last thing I hear is the crash of my hot-chocolate mug against the floor.

——

    Remember that cliffhanger I mentioned? Yeah, that.

    Thanks for reading! 

    Soli Deo Gloria,

    Astrya    

September 11, 2001

     A date. 

    That’s all it is.

    And yet it’s not. It’s so much more. So much more consequential, so much more impactful, so much more… awful. 

    On September 11, 2001—23 years ago today—the World Trade Centre in New York City was attacked, with two of the four passenger flights deliberately hijacked and crashed into the upper floors of the North and South Towers of the Centre complex and a third plane into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. 

    After learning about the other attacks, passengers on the fourth hijacked plane, Flight 93, fought back, and the plane was crashed into an empty field in western Pennsylvania about 20 minutes by air from Washington, D.C.

    The attacks killed 2,977 people from 90 nations: 2,753 people were killed in New York; 184 people were killed at the Pentagon; and 40 people were killed on Flight 93.

    Today we remember these unspeakable atrocities. Today we pray for those it affected—the aftermath is still influencing people even now. Today, we thank the Lord for His mercy and all He has done for those who suffer. 

    Today we remember.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Astrya