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Epilogue (for those familar with the River of Denial) to "The truth is out there ... somewhere"


Jan 28 2015, 5:29am

Post #1 of 16 (1674 views)
Epilogue (for those familar with the River of Denial) to "The truth is out there ... somewhere" Can't Post

Note: this little epilogue will make absolutely no sense to those who do not swim/kayak/tube in the River of Denial. Because there are those of us who believe life is better with the Durins in it. Cool

For the prologue, see Kilidoescartwheels' post in the Hobbit forum - "The truth is out there...somewhere".

Basically, the Durins faked their deaths, with a little help from Galdriel. But I for one really wanted to see what happens next, and anyway I can't stand to see Thorin cry. Or Bilbo.Unimpressed

Sometime later…
After his return to Hobbiton, Bilbo had spent untold hours on complex paperwork and interminable conversations with neighbors over the return of his property.Frown This involved much bowing in proper hobbit-fashion, so Bilbo, being in superb condition from the rigors of his Unexpected Journey, took evil glee in bowing so deeply and so often that his neighbors developed various back pains from trying to bow in return. Deep calisthenics are tiring for even sturdy hobbits, who happily enjoyed second breakfasts and afternoon teas in addition to regular and plentiful meals. As such, neighbors were often only too happy to hastily return Bilbo’s possessions, just to end the impromptu exercise and get back to their evening snacks.

Another reason Bilbo’s possessions were so hastily returned, so tongues wagged in Hobbiton, was that Mr. Bilbo (always considered a risk for peculiar behavior thanks to his Tookish blood) did not seem to be quite right. Bilbo was often seen walking restlessly in the evenings, singing softly to himself, or staring thoughtfully at the stars. And though gardening was considered to be a respectable activity for hobbits, Bilbo seemed to be strangely fussy over an oak sapling that had evidently been grown from an acorn got from “foreign parts”.

Although it was generally agreed that the good care Bilbo gave to the tree was helping it to grow at a remarkable rate, it was whispered that Bilbo did not just like to sit and smoke near the tree, but seemed at times to be speaking to himself – or the tree – in a strange, sharp sounding but sad language. “That’s what comes from visiting foreign parts, and dealing with elves and big people and dwarves”, it was gossiped. Hobbits should stay put in Hobbiton.

But as autumn had fallen and the winds began to chill, and Bilbo put his garden to bed, surrounding the tree with a protective blanket of sweet hay, he felt more restless than ever. For though there were many at Hobbiton that Bilbo felt a deep affection for, what he could never say to any (except the old grey wandering pilgrim) was that there was a hollow emptiness in his heart that he carried every day. The Company of dwarves that had once tumbled across his doorstep, and everything he’d experienced on his Unexpected Journey seemed more a dream now than anything.Frown

But still so real and rich that Bilbo found himself constantly traveling again with the dwarves in his mind, seeing sparks fly up from the night campfires, watching Fili and Kil laughing as they mock sparred, smelling the stew from Bombur’s cooking pots, hearing the scrape of rock on metal as Dwalin sharpened his axes. And most of all, he missed his friend – the mountain king with the tumbled mane of twilight shade hair, and azure eyes that could burn with fury or be as soft as the spring rains.

Hoping to distract himself before the winter snows would make travel more difficult and keep him housebound in Bag End, Bilbo had taken Myrtle and Minty to Bree, ostensibly to purchase supplies for the season (Myrtle and Minty, after bolting in terror from a pack of wargs, had wandered back with the rest of their pony herd all the way to Bree, and Bilbo had happily traded his antique chair – which couldn’t be sat on anyway – for them.)

Bilbo slipped quietly into the chill of the clear autumn evening, away from the soft pools of golden light and loud ribald merriment filling the common room of the Prancing Pony. It was his habit to treat the ponies to a few apples every night, and have a quiet smoke by himself, as the laughing voices of Bree reminded him too much of the dwarves – and so Bilbo would rather be near Myrtle and Minty, who were a living memory.

Myrtle and Minty nickered gently in recognition as Bilbo came into the barn, tossing their manes and stamping softly. Bilbo gently stroked their heads as they munched on their apples. Minty nuzzled him with her soft velvet nose, her dark brown eyes so liquid and knowing that Bilbo felt a wave of savage pain wash through his chest, and he wrapped his arms around the pony’s neck, put his head down, and let his sudden tears trickle into her mane.

Suddenly Minty stiffened and tossed her head up in alarm, and Myrtle’s eyes widened and the pony danced a bit sideways, as muffled hoots and laughter rang through the barn, and there was the thumping sound of booted feet. Two leather-clad figures bounced off of a stall door, still laughing and stumbling to stand up straight, and were lit by the dim lantern glow – dwarves. One with silky dark brown locks, like rich tea, who had merry eyes, and another with eyes of cornflower blue and thick wavy hair like harvest gold. “I’m still a better shot than you…” grinned the brown-haired dwarf, pushing the hair from his eyes with a gloved hand. The golden-haired dwarf began to answer, but his eyes widened at seeing the hobbit who stood staring at them, eyes fixed in terror, as pale as forest mushrooms, desperately clinging to the neck of the jittery pony.

“Bilbo!” cried the fair-haired dwarf, after a moment of suspended silence where the dwarves stared at the hobbit in surprise, and stepped toward the Hobbit, arms outstretched.

Although Bilbo had shown amazing resilience and courage throughout a entire desperate journey to the east, and fought in and survived the Battle of the Five Armies, few in Middle Earth (save elves, because they are good at everything) have the mental fortitude to be calm in face of what was apparently two fully three-dimensional spirits of the dead.

“Aaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeee!!!” shrieked Bilbo, finally finding his voice. Unfortunately this was screamed far too closely into the ear of an already nervous Minty, who reared slightly and threw Bilbo’s arms off, snorting in annoyance. Old dry boards rattled as Bilbo fell against them, feeling desperately for his sword Sting. “A balrog! A balrog has come!”

The blonde-haired dwarf stopped and looked at his companion in confusion. “What film is this again, then? And anyway, not even the elves ever told me I was THAT ugly…”

The chestnut-haired dwarf shrugged. “That’s Peter Jackson for you. Between the shooting schedule, pick-ups, constant script changes, rebooting the LOTR cast, using Tolkien Appendices, and just plain made-up stuff (not to mention now we’re shooting multiple endings for the “thisendingBLEEP” website as well as three more sequels, I don’t even know what DAY it is.”

The rather tall dwarf smiled winsomely at the white-faced, trembling Bilbo. “You can’t blame this little guy for being confused.” He stepped forward “It’s me! I mean us! Fili and Kili! Don’t you know your HOT DWARF PRINCES – there are memes all over the ‘Net! Not to mention some really IMAGINATIVE fan fiction…”

The air rang as Bilbo yanked his elvish blade Sting from its sheath, holding it with trembling hands as he backed away from this apparition on shaky legs. Bilbo noticed the sword was not glowing blue, but that brought no comfort, as he had often wondered why the elvish blades Orcrist and Glamdring did not, in fact, glow in the presence of orcs and goblins. He had wondered if Sting would one day simply run out of glow-fuel, as it were.

In any case, there were older and fouler things than orcs in the world that Sting would not react to. Like that creepy thing in the goblin tunnels. Or, like these walking dead Durins. “Stay back, I’m warning you. I’ll use this, if I have to!” Bilbo’s voice desperately cracked. A bucket banged across the wooden floor as Bilbo’s large furry feet knocked it aside, and all around restless livestock began to bleat and stomp at the noise. Bilbo began to think of the Ring in his pocket...

But Sting clattered to the floor as Bilbo was pulled against a powerfully muscled chest and a warm strong hand covered his mouth (this five seconds of footage alone would produce a wave of euphoria across the fan fiction and art communities, resulting in an outpouring of ALTERNATIVE LIFESTYLE artwork and fits of jealousy among the fangirls (well, mostly girls), who would grumble across the ‘Net at the attention WASTED on Bilbo Baggins. Again.Unsure)

“You draw far too much attention to yourself, for a BURGLAR, Master Baggins,” a voice smiled, a voice that could command armies, a voice of such velvet sumptuousness it brought to mind the glowing coals of autumn fires, blackberry wine and dark chocolate, burning cherry amber, the heat of a summer sun on skin. A voice that Bilbo thought not to hear again, until the many long years had gone and he could finally gratefully follow after the Heirs of Durin, his silent mourning finally at an end.

An arm of leather-clad iron gently, but irresistibly, turned Bilbo, and he stared up into eyes of the purest clear azure that were so like a coastal sea, framed by a familiar soft chiaroscuro of sugar-streaked coiling espresso-toned silk. Bilbo fainted.

(The fangirls – well, mostly girls – nodded in empathy for Bilbo, tho many did feel a twinge, in that at least Bilbo was held up vs. hitting the floor as so many of them had, so often, over the last few years viewing the Hobbit films. If you were lucky, there was carpeting. The more ARTISTICALLY inclined fans got out their tablets and sketch pads again. Best not to think of what weirder types living in basements are doing but thank the Valar for those “filter mature content buttons.”)

“He’s coming around”, Bilbo heard fuzzily. He could feel soft, well-washed cotton sheets under his back. Bilbo slowly opened his eyes and stared at blackened wood beams of a low rough whitewashed ceiling. Memory flooded back and he sat bolt upright and cringed against the headboard of the simple bed he was laying on, hands clenched as he took in the #Majestic countenance of the King Under the Mountain sitting at the end of the mattress smiling gently at him.

“Easy, Master Baggins,” said the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield. “I did not look to see you so upset to see us.” The specters of Fili and Kili waved cheerfully at Bilbo from a heavily laden table in a corner of the room. A low fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Bilbo slowly took in that the specter of Kili had its mouth full of a cheese sandwich it appeared to be eating, and the thought began to form that it was rather odd that a ghost would be feeling peckish. But then again, you hear things about beings that come from the Dead Marshes…

The Thorin-ghost rose and poured something from a pitcher into a mug, and walked back to stuff the mug into Bilbo’s unresisting hand, finally impatiently wrapping Bilbo’s fingers around the mug. The shade went back to stand against the hearth, arms crossed in a familiar pose as he regarded Bilbo. “Drink” ordered the Thorin-ghost, who looked disturbingly solid for a being from another world, and spoke in tones far more commanding than any ephemeral being should possess.

Bilbo gripped the mug until his knuckles turned white. “Thorin” he breathed. “But you’re…I was there…Fili…” Tears pooled in Bilbo’s eyes and his voice cracked.

“Drink” ordered the specter again. Bilbo was too shaken to protest, and took a sip, with hands so unsteady the toddy sloshed onto the bedclothes. “Again. And another. And breathe. Good.” The Thorin ghost bent and tossed some more wood on the fire, and glared at the Fili and Kili ghosts. “Fili, Kili, make sure you save some of that blackberry tart for Bilbo, and some cream. The way you two eat, might as well have Bombur here.” The Fili-ghost smiled affably and waved a sausage at the Thorin-ghost.

The Thorin-ghost leaned against the hearth and looked steadily at Bilbo. “Better?” Bilbo nodded, struggling to find his voice. He took a deep breath. “Who are you? WHAT are you? What do you want…” Bilbo began to feel panic rising again.

The Thorin-ghost sighed heavily and pulled a chair from the table, to sit near the side of Bilbo. Hauntingly blue eyes stared deeply into Bilbo’s own (accompanied by the sighs of thousands of fangirls, especially when the glow of the fireplace played across the face of this #Majestic being, so that it looked like a Renaissance paintingHeart. The gust of wind was enough to distract Fili from his sausages, and he looked inquiringly around for the draft).

“Bilbo”, the Thorin-ghost began (in a voice that was replayed by fans around the world), “We have no right to ask this of you. Myself more than any, who to my eternal shame tried to hurt you. And we have hurt you again, our burglar, one who we are beyond honored to call friend, one who we love, one who we can never repay in a hundred lifetimes.”

The Fili and Kili ghosts (although confusedly in the back of his mind Bilbo was thinking that these beings were very SOLID-looking, for spirits) dragged their chairs to the bed, tankards in hand. “Things happened so FAST that day…” began the Fili “thing”.

“But you – I SAW you, Azog – it was horrible, I never stop seeing it – and you fell…” cried Bilbo, agonized at the memory. The Thorin-ghost closed his eyes in pain, and the Kili-ghost flinched at the words.Frown

The Fili-ghost suddenly looked years older, stern, and there was a glimpse of the #Majesty of his uncle in his face and bearing. “Yes,” the Fili-ghost said. He glanced at the Kili-ghost. “I remember. I remember my uncle, and Dwalin, and you. It was not so bad, seeing you all, at the last. I wanted you to run, all of you. And I remember cold, and light, and then there were stars, and suddenly it was warm, and I could smell grass and growing things and the pain was gone. And then there was this, this CHANT, in elvish, and this feeling of being pulled, and I woke up and that funny wizard was leaning over me (had a terrible odor, by the way, and somehow I ended up with bird doings smeared on me – never did get the stains out) ."

“And then I had to help that Raddy wizard off the cliffs, but he was pretty happy and kept going on about how Durin fans couldn’t accuse him of only caring about hedgehogs anymore. And then I found Thorin…”

“And I knew then, I had been sent back, for, for – well I KNEW it wasn’t to be the King of Erebor, because once you are king you are pretty much stuck in place, really. Then there’s having to worry about being gold-sick…”

The Thorin-ghost nodded. “That’s why I couldn’t go back either.” The eyes of the Thorin-spirit darkened and looked at Bilbo with sorrow. “I would have bowed to the smugness of that prancing Thranduil, and swallowed my pride over being saved by his son’s arrows (from the magic quiver that never runs out, we need to find one of those for Kili sometime, pretty useful in a tight spot.)”

Thorin-ghost’s eyes softened as he gazed steadily at Bilbo. “You taught me that, you know. You, our brave halfling, who saved us so often. If not for you, my Company would still be eating rabbit food in the dungeons of the Elven-King.”

“At least Tauriel would be there,” complained the Kili-ghost sotto voce. “Lot of elven girls – well, PROBABLY girls…” the Kili-ghost fell silent as the other Durin ghosts glared at him. “How often do we have to point out that elves are TOO TALL?”

“I am not my grandfather, and am I not the king?, “the Thorin-ghost went on. “Yet Erebor, and my people, deserve a WISE king, and I too, by the grace of the Valar, have been given a second chance. A chance to make one last choice, for the good of my people, for Erebor. Heir of Durin or no, best the Mountain has a king who does not hear the song of gold, but sees gold as something to craft, something to build with, but not something to love. Not something you would betray a beloved friend’s trust and affection for."

(Thousands of fangirl eyes fill at this point, and many tissues are shredded, and much mascara melted off, as the thought crystallizes, that for them, there will NEVER be anything more magnificent in their lives than his #Majesty, and they can all be grateful they are around to witness this GLORY.HeartHeartHeart)

Bilbo looked wildly at the Kili-ghost, still none too sure he hadn’t lost his mind. “And you? I thought you…”

The Kili-spirit shifted in his chair, abashed. “Well, basically, things just got kind of CHAOTIC, and that Beorn-bear showed up and tore apart this massive orc that had been fighting Tauriel and me, so I figured he’d look after her – I mean she’s a FOREST elf and kind to critters and full of love and like that, so I took off to find Thorin and Fili, but then Fili was gone, and I didn’t know what to think except I wanted to kill every orc I could find, and I took out some more, and then I found Thorin and Fili…”

“We had to make a choice, Bilbo,” the Thorin-spirit went on in its mesmerizing voice, so like the music of a storm, so #MajesticTongue. “We, the Heirs of Durin, could not stay, but neither could we simply leave. I know you do not really understand, but you were with dwarves for a long time. Outside of our Company, who had been with me, and borne witness to the dragon-sickness, to simply abdicate would stain ALL of Durin’s line, including my cousin and my sister. It would not be seen as wisdom, but an admittance of weakness. Even at his worst, it was never thought that my grandfather Thror should not rule, even dragon-mad.”

The Fili-ghost nodded. “For dwarves, the royal line has no choice. Even if my uncle simply gave the throne to Dain Ironfoot, he would be suspected of weakness, and ever have to fight challenges from other dwarves, who might claim that the bloodline had become THIN with the passing of years.”

Bilbo’s mouth was open in disbelief. His brow furrowed. “But there were BODIES, I saw them! And what about Balin and Dwalin and Dori and Bofur and all?”

The Thorin-being continued to gaze steadily at Bilbo. “THAT was simply another reason for me to leave, for us to leave. But – and I do not comprehend this myself – it seems we were blessed by the Lady of the Wood, the Lady Galadriel, in choosing to leave. I do not even know how she came to be at Ravenhill, but one does not question a Queen.” He smiled ruefully. “And so, a glamour was placed on three of the dead, so they would resemble us three. I was beyond torn to leave in that manner, but whatever pain I might have was something I felt I deserved, having behaved with such dishonor. And the Company would finally have a home, and heal, and watch the walls of Erebor grow strong again.”

“The Lady Galadriel guided us to these, these, strangely named little craft, and so we were able to use the mysteriously unfrozen waters to slip away. I believed that since the no-show Gandalf had finally made an appearance on your behalf at least (even if it was to be patronizing, which is pretty rich when you think about considering who was responsible for the entire mess) – that he at least, would look after you and make sure you were safe.”

The Thorin-being fell silent, and the Kili-ghost took up the tale “And then we met these really strangely dressed human females – although some of them seem to be wearing human man-clothes but you could USUALLY tell, and we think that they were maidens of Galadriel or something – tho I hafta say I thought anyone who worked for elves would be more COVERED with robes and dresses, but many of them just wore these short breeches. And I would think that maidens of Galadriel *cough* well, women of Galadriel anyway,” the Kili-ghost’s voice faltered as the Thorin and Fili spirits stared at him “Look, I can attest from personal experience…I told you I wasn’t too short…” The Thorin-spirit glared.

“ANYWAY. These Galadriel-ladies, they seemed to be clever on the waters, had lots of these little boats and boats like little chairs, and floating black rubber tubes and even barrels. Plus, they had this barge, and all kinds of foods and powerful drinks made from fruit that had strange names. Kept telling us that they were utterly loyal, and, well, as the party went on, they told us OTHER stuff too…

“Like we all have pretty eyes,” grinned the Fili-ghost. “And how handsome and beautiful and talented we are…”

“U R so hawt,” interjected the Kili-ghost. “They chanted that one a lot. And oh-my-gawd. And Thorin got stared at so much (the Thorin-ghost shifted uncomfortably and his cheeks flushed) it was making Fili and me nervous, but these ladies seemed pretty respectful too.”

“They said they would take us back east, to the Blue Mountains, tho we were pretty uncomfortable with the idea of passing through Mirkwood again. But the ladies said to trust them, that they knew a secret river that was unmarked on any map, and that something called “rabid fandom” would protect us, always. Plus they said they had lots of pepper spray and these other strange weapons that looked like tongs and stuff Bombur would use.”

“And they would take extra special care, so that we would be in good shape for the sequel films, whenever that isTongue. It sounded like a good thing and made them all happy and excited. So we were taken by this “River of Denial” right through the forest (wish we had traveled with these “fangirls” in the first place, except I never would have met Tauriel) until it met the Anduin.”

“And there was this huge celebration, hundreds of “fangirls” (well, mostly girls), it was like a festival, it went on for days, tho I got kind of tired of hearing “Misty Mountains Cold” being sung so badly. But finally Thorin….well, best he tells the rest.”

“Not that much more to say, Bilbo,” the Thorin-ghost said quietly. “We have spent some time here at Bree, and since we are near the Old Forest, many ravens that are kin to the ravens of Erebor dwell there. I have spent many days sending and receiving messages from Dain and the Company, as I could not let Balin and my Dwalin grieve, as I knew they would, or Dwalin feel he had not protected his king and princes. Or let my sister Dís believe her sons were gone. And Bree has many travelers, so a few rumpled dwarves go unnoticed."

“In any case, some of these “fangirls” are ever nearby, and ever protective.”CoolTongueHeart

Bilbo took a great, shuddering breath. And another. And a third. He swung himself from the bed and stared into the night from the window, distantly realizing he was in one of the Prancing Pony’s guest rooms. He didn’t trust himself to speak, but finally Bilbo turned, eyes shining with tears.
“Not ghosts, then. You are all alive. Thorin. Fili. Kili. Have been alive. All that way, and you could not tell me? I have so missed…” Bilbo could not go on, so great was his pain and joy that he was choking.Frown

Thorin strode across the room and grabbed Bilbo in a fierce rib-cracking hugHeart, and Fili and Kili joined inHeart, until Bilbo began to wheeze for air, finally understanding that 1) he was NOT mad and 2) absolutely not talking to spirits from another world. There are few things more SOLID in Middle Earth than a dwarf body. Thorin then smiled and put his strong hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. “Dwarf friend. King’s friend. MY friend. By my life, never again will I bring you pain, I swear. For you have set yourself among the dwarf heroes of old, though you know it not."

“And I thought not to burden you further, though not a day has passed when it has not seemed strange to have you at my side. But I have been eager to be done here, for we hoped – prayed even to Mahal and our ancestors – that you would forgive us, forgive me. We hoped to spend the winter with you at Bag End, if you would have us, and forgive us. And then travel with us to visit the Blue Mountains. For my sister leads the dwarves who left Erebor there, in my stead, and it is our thinking to settle a little west of the Blue Mountains. Not so far from Hobbiton, actually. Dwarves are ever secretive, and no one will think much of a few dwarf soldiers who wish to settle and do a bit of blacksmithing.”

Bilbo finally smiled, as the heavy weight he had carried for so many months, and the evil memories, faded from his heart as easily as sparks from a fire float up a chimney. Thorin Oakenshield smiled back at him. “That sounds fine. That sounds good. And I’d like to show you – the acorn grew…”Heart



Jan 28 2015, 6:12am

Post #2 of 16 (1467 views)
Avandel, you are a jewel [In reply to] Can't Post

This.is.perfect. Smile



Jan 28 2015, 9:06am

Post #3 of 16 (1464 views)
kudos to Avandel [In reply to] Can't Post

Ahh. This is all kinds of wonderful. Thank you thank you thank you!

You've been busy with the River of Denial, and now this. All the better for all of us fellow river travellers! Smile

An arm of leather-clad iron gently, but irresistibly, turned Bilbo, and he stared up into eyes of the purest clear azure that were so like a coastal sea, framed by a familiar soft chiaroscuro of sugar-streaked coiling espresso-toned silk. Bilbo fainted.

I can't help having the impression that this (for a second) makes it look like Bilbo fainted simply for being suddenly so close to such unbelievably #Majestic charisma that it totally overwhelmed him, regardless of old friendships and all that Laugh

But really, this was so touching and perfect! HeartEvil

Tol Eressea

Jan 28 2015, 3:18pm

Post #4 of 16 (1464 views)
Well done! [In reply to] Can't Post

Hijack away!

Why yes, I DO look like Anna Friel!


Jan 28 2015, 5:07pm

Post #5 of 16 (1441 views)
thank you and *bows* [In reply to] Can't Post


Now I want this filmed. Especially the exciting attack on the Prancing Pony that happens right after Thorin, Bilbo, Fili and Kili are finishing the last of the ale and the blackberry tart. CoolCoolCoolCoolCool


Jan 28 2015, 5:15pm

Post #6 of 16 (1446 views)
LOL that happens a lot [In reply to] Can't Post


I can't help having the impression that this (for a second) makes it look like Bilbo fainted simply for being suddenly so close to such unbelievably #Majestic charisma that it totally overwhelmed him, regardless of old friendships and all that Laugh

Hard to say. But I think Thorin has had to either catch any number of beings before hitting the floor, or step over the bodies, anywayWink. Good thing he is tall for a dwarf, with long legs.


But really, this was so touching and perfect! HeartEvil

*Bows deeply* thank you so much! Not something I usually do, but yah know I couldn't let Bilbo and Dwalin and all be sad like that. And anyway, I think we all wanna see the Durins in soft leather again. Especially me, who has a *thing* for the quilted gloves.TongueEvilWink


Jan 28 2015, 5:24pm

Post #7 of 16 (1445 views)
thank you! [In reply to] Can't Post

LOL "you started this. You will forgive me if I finish it...."

*Smiles* well yah know, I couldn't let Bilbo suffer, and it was a chance to ENVISION the Durins in leather and suede again, slightly disheveledTongue, plus we all got to party with the Durins on the River of Denial all the way through Thranduil's forest.LaughLaughLaugh

But who ever said that forest magic is only for elves? Cool

Tol Eressea

Jan 28 2015, 5:27pm

Post #8 of 16 (1456 views)
#Majestic [In reply to] Can't Post


such fandom

very #Majestic

much IMAGINATIVE fanfiction

*filter mature content buttons*


much Glory

You have nailed the Voice of Fandom.

Fili... "looked inquiringly around for the draft)."


so linking to this on tumblr.........

Na 'Aear, na 'Aear! Mýl 'lain nallol, I sûl ribiel a i falf 'loss reviol...
To the sea, to the sea, the white gulls are crying, the wind is blowing and the white foam is flying...


Jan 28 2015, 11:30pm

Post #9 of 16 (1441 views)
thank you! [In reply to] Can't Post


Laugh Life is definitely better with #Majesty (and if anyone should want to, feel free to take and edit/improve/add to. After all, that was OK for PJ & co.WinkEvil)

Grey Havens

Jan 29 2015, 2:01pm

Post #10 of 16 (1416 views)
Ahhh, perfect! [In reply to] Can't Post

Drinking from the River of Denial is like water in the desert; like hot cocoa by a warm fire during a snowstorm; like Pinot Noir after a hard day of hammering orcs...

Although, hmmmm, tastes a bit like Pina Colada to me...

Well done and thanks! Smile


Gold is the strife of kinsmen,
and fire of the flood-tide,
and the path of the serpent.

(Old Icelandic Fe rune poem)


Jan 29 2015, 3:33pm

Post #11 of 16 (1415 views)
Perfect! [In reply to] Can't Post

This reunion is exactly what I was looking for! Some poignancy and humor, blended in measure...
I think I may have to read this each time after watching BotFA in order to comfort myself! Wink

(On a random note, just noticed that I've been promoted to "Rivendell")


Jan 29 2015, 5:31pm

Post #12 of 16 (1417 views)
Thank you! [In reply to] Can't Post

And, er, sent you a PM to pester you about somethingEvilCoolAngelicTongue


Jan 29 2015, 11:26pm

Post #13 of 16 (1427 views)
Love your compliment, thank you! (and LOL I can't stop.....) - and congrats! [In reply to] Can't Post

This reunion is exactly what I was looking for! Some poignancy and humor, blended in measure...

THAT was what I was hoping for, to not slide down that slippery slope into the vat of CHEESEUnsure - tho personally think
after the grimness of BOFA we could all use a little cheeseCool (to go with the drinks, anyway). Whew, I found out it's HARD to
edit yourself tooCrazy - but nonetheless as an epilogue to my epilogue (and a nod to Tolkien PURISTS. Kind ofEvil):

Appendix to the Epilogue:

The exiled dwarves of the Blue Mountains were exiled no longer, for there was much trade and visiting with the Lonely Mountain. With the ending of hostilities between the elves of Mirkwood and the northern dwarves, roads through the great forest that lay between the Blue Mountains and Erebor once again were smooth and straight, and birds and butterflies danced along the pathways.

The Lady Dís, sister to Thorin the Great, ruled these dwarves, although the Blue Mountain dwarves considered the fearsome Dáin II Ironfoot to be their official king. Dís was an able and powerful leader, and guided and protected the thriving dwarf colony with her triplet sons Balin, Dwalin, and Frerin. (As always, the secretive dwarves are tight-lipped about the father of these young dwarf sons, though an occasional rumor was whispered of a sea captain of Forlond - for the lady often wore fine ocean pearls and amber in her luxuriant hair. No-one would think to condemn Dís for what comfort she could find, and the dwarves were proud of the dignity with which the lady carried herself).

In these endeavors, Dís was supported in the southern Blue Mountains by a fierce dwarf war lordTongue who had settled there with his two sonsHeart. No dwarf thought it odd that this chieftain should carry the name of the lady’s brother – after the Battle of the Five Armies many renamed themselves, or their offspring, after the courageous of Heirs of Durin, even human men (indeed, even the son of Dáin was named Thorin).

What WAS thought odd, though, was that this dwarf lord seemed to have an unusual interest in oak trees, and had had many planted 'round about. And as well, a number of human females had declared themselves his subjects and dwelt there, tending to beehives and distilling many powerful cordials from the fruits they grew.

After many long years, when this dwarf lord’s tumbling darkling mane was mostly the shade of the finest silver, a white thrush with golden eyes came and knocked 'gainst his windowsill. Thorin Oakenshield knew at long last it was time to return to Erebor, to take his rightful place and sleep until the world would turn again. With the help of the strange wizard Radagast (who could no longer speak except in the language of animals) and the unfathomable Elven King of Mirkwood, Thorin was brought to the Lonely Mountain by hidden ways for the last time, as Fili and Kili would be in years to come.

Thorin Oakenshield was able to secretly enter Erebor through a hidden door tucked into the shadows of immense mountainside carvings of himself, Fili, Kili, and their companion Halfling. These noble statues had been crafted during the rebuilding of Erebor, and were considered to be some of the finest work ever done by the dwarven race. This time, though, the door did not get stuck, as the fiery Dáin had personally supervised its construction, saying he would use his war hammer-axe on any craftsman who would shame dwarf kind again with shoddy work.Cool

Hey, congrats on reaching Rivendell!Smile Have a fruit drink from Bilbo!

Riven Delve
Tol Eressea

Jan 30 2015, 1:19pm

Post #14 of 16 (1400 views)
So THIS is why there was no funeral [In reply to] Can't Post

It all makes sense now! Laugh

Oh, Avendel, you made my day. *wipes tears of laughter from cheeks*


a voice that could command armies, a voice of such velvet sumptuousness it brought to mind the glowing coals of autumn fires, blackberry wine and dark chocolate, burning cherry amber, the heat of a summer sun on skin.

Ikr? AngelicLaugh

he stared up into eyes of the purest clear azure that were so like a coastal sea, framed by a familiar soft chiaroscuro of sugar-streaked coiling espresso-toned silk. Bilbo fainted.

(The fangirls – well, mostly girls – nodded in empathy for Bilbo, tho many did feel a twinge, in that at least Bilbo was held up vs. hitting the floor as so many of them had, so often, over the last few years viewing the Hobbit films. If you were lucky, there was carpeting.)

Oh yes, the empathy! Thank goodness for carpeting! Cool


The gust of wind was enough to distract Fili from his sausages, and he looked inquiringly around for the draft

WHERE do those breezes come from?? Will we ever find out?? Laugh

I'm so glad we fangirls were able to protect the heirs of Durin so that our young friends may eat cheese sandwiches and sausages and drink tankards of Bilbo's ale free of care about pesky Orcs and Elves and such. I feel proud (I think? Wink) to have championed the most noble and majestic beings of Middle-earth. Angelic

“Tollers,” Lewis said to Tolkien, “there is too little of what we really like in stories. I am afraid we shall have to try and write some ourselves.”


Jan 30 2015, 10:28pm

Post #15 of 16 (1422 views)
There IS a funeral, but Beorn is SUSPICIOUS [In reply to] Can't Post

Beorn being shapeshifter and all, he is perfectly comfortable with the idea of folks looking like one thing and BEING another, but the bodies at the funeral didn't fool him for a second, because he has a bear's ability to smell STUFF. Shocked

Like something that LOOKS like dwarves, but SMELLS like dead orcs. The reason Beorn looks so grim in the leaked picture is he can't understand why everyone is standing around crying over some dead orcs, but it's things like this that explain why Beorn would rather live with animals than the other weirdo races of Middle Earth.Cool

Oh yes, the empathy! Thank goodness for carpeting! Cool

YeahLaugh, I still remember the bruises I got from the laminate flooring, the morning I got online, all bleery-eyed, and there was:

I'm so glad we fangirls were able to protect the heirs of Durin so that our young friends may eat cheese sandwiches and sausages and drink tankards of Bilbo's ale free of care about pesky Orcs and Elves and such. I feel proud (I think? Wink) to have championed the most noble and majestic beings of Middle-earth. Angelic

No thinking involved here, in that the sight and voice of Thorin Oakenshield simply TORCHES the areas of the brain involved in REASON and JUDGEMENT. The man dwarf is a GAWD. Best to just enjoy the FEELS of the BURN.CoolWinkTongue

Tol Eressea

Jan 31 2015, 4:00pm

Post #16 of 16 (1406 views)
Hey, Avandel! [In reply to] Can't Post

If you get a minute, you might check out my bit of Fanfic which I just posted. It's based on Kili's Firemoon story, kind of a prequel to "The Hobbit." I probably didn't format it very well, copied & pasted instead of typing directly in - my bad! I may have to fix that. Anyway, I think you'll like it, hope so anyway!

Why yes, I DO look like Anna Friel!


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