@feanorianweek Day Ii; Maglor The Minstrel

Please consider: If Tolkien wasn't a coward Feanor would have been female and it would have been way cooler. a) Gives some real weight to the idea that Feanor was worried the crown would go to one of Finwe's other kids. b) More ladies in Tolkien, always a plus. c) You'd better believe Feanor's the greatest craftsperson of the Noldor- she made 7 of them! (Also the sheer drama of newly single mum Feanor and her 7 boys in Middle Earth) d) Silmarils as kids2.0 e) Blacksmith lady hot

Lady Feanor would indeed be awesome. The historical part of my brain can't help but think that critics of the time would have unfortunately interpreted ambitious kick butt single mom Feanor as a prime example of the "monstrous woman" type, ala Medea or something, who "got what was coming to her" in the end, so in a way I'm glad that the Prof. decided to write Feanor as a man so that we didn't have to deal with that nonsense.

I can't help but wonder if he'd lived at a later date if he might have considered female Feanor, I mean, this is a man who took one look at one is Shakespeare's most famous plays and said, "the answer to the prophesy is a C-section?? Booooo! Macbeth should have been killed by a woman! (And also the trees should have actually come alive)" and "its bogus that Orpheus turned around after all that and Eurydice had to die! Rip to them but if i were trapped in the underworld my wife would be different!"

And then proceeded to write his own genderbent fix it fic of both of those perennial works x)

So yeah, I think if the character had come into his head as female then Tolkien would have 100% been down with it

Femenine urge that

Masculine urge this

What about the autistic urge to info dump about your special interest even tho you just infodumped someone else like 3 minutes ago?

female characters not conforming to gender roles is great, but if they have to sneer at women who do fit into those roles in order to do it, it’s just misogynist.

i notice this in fantasy media and it’s fandoms quite a bit that what a ‘strong woman character’ means is often a woman who rejects things historically associated (in western culture) with women. she doesn’t like clothes or pretty things, she doesn’t want to fall in love, she doesn’t care for how she looks, she doesn’t like or want children, she rejects the domestic sphere entirely, etc.

and, of course, any woman should be allowed to do that, those are all valid things and she shouldn’t be constrained to any role, - but when we write these characters such that what makes them strong and valuable is that the people around them (and they themselves) consider them unlike the other women - all we do is reinforce that what those other women are is weak and without value.

so, of course, let’s write our swashbuckling, cursing, warrior women at home among soldiers ... but let us also write housewives and mothers and ladies in bejeweled gowns whom we respect as characters.

empowering a single kind of woman while putting down all the rest is of use to no one!

microdosing on being goth by wearing black jeans

breaking news: local british magician collapses from exhaustion after carrying the entire fantasy genre’s gaslight gatekeep girlboss representation since 2004. “mr norrell is such a #icon,” our sources report. 

Who takes Middle-Earth-born Celebrian under their wing and make her feel at home in Valinor, and why is it Finrod?

"So, wait," said the thief, topping off the detective's wine glass. "You're saying that your stressful case is catching that hot shot cat burglar that everyone's talking about?"

The detective grimaced, but didn't change the subject. "Yep," they muttered into their Pinot and took a swig. "The celebrity criminal."

This was a triumph. This was their third date and the thief had spent the prior two carefully laying the emotional groundwork leading up to this moment. The detective, as a social partner, was affable and considerate - surprisingly funny even, in a dry, deadpan way - but rigidly guarded about their line of work. The thief had asked the normal questions about jobs and had been expertly deflected with self-deprecating jokes about spreadsheets and paperwork. The thief had been content to wait. The detective was a fundamentally honest person, and the thief trusted the truth would work its way to the surface soon enough.

"But that sounds exciting!" the thief prompted brightly. "I mean, daring heists executed by moonlight! It must be such a nice change from your run-of-the-mill crimes."

"Mostly it's just exhausting," sighed the detective, rubbing their temples. "This perp is such an asshole."

The thief blinked. "Excuse me?"

The detective shook their head, tried to force a smile. "I'm sorry. I've had too much wine. You were saying about your invitation to audition for the Bolshoi -?"

"Oh, forget about me," the thief said quickly. "Please, go on. You're clearly stressed about -"

"Do you know," the detective went on as if they'd never stopped, "the morning guy on Channel Seven had the nerve to call this a victimless crime?"

"Well, the insurance will pay for it," the thief started.

The detective slapped the table. The thief jumped. "What about the people?" the detective exclaimed. A few nearby heads turned in their direction. "Are people supposed to walk into museums and look at what, framed checks on the wall from Lloyds? And meanwhile, these masterworks disappear into the vaults of gangsters and petty criminals, never to be seen again. Because you can be sure," they added, jabbing a finger at the thief, "crooks that steal art have no love for it. They'll destroy it, every lick of paint, if there's the slightest risk to their own skins."

The detective took another deep swallow of red wine. They looked close to tears. The thief awkwardly patted their hand across the table. This was not at all what they'd expected on this little reconnaissance side mission. The detective caught their hand and squeezed it with a grateful look that wrenched something in the thief's upper chest area.

"Now those guys," the detective said thoughtfully. "The criminals with the vaults. Now that seems like a worthy target."

"I... huh?" The thief stared across the table. The detective looked back with those guileless, honest eyes. 

"I'm just saying," they said, with the slightest drunken slur on their words. "Walking the art out of some budget-strapped public facility is one thing. But emptying out of one of those vaults, liberating all those works of art and returning them to their rightful place before the public..." The detective sighed dreamily. "Now that actually sounds like a daring, hot shot kind of heist."

There was a moment where neither moved, gazing at each other like the lovers they were pretending to be. Then the detective tugged their hand free, stood up with an apologetic smile. "But I'm definitely tipsy," they said. "Let me go splash some water on my face."

When the detective returned from the restroom, the thief was still at the table, watching the waiter clear the plates. By unspoken agreement, they didn't speak until she was well clear.

"So, hypothetically speaking," the thief said finally, running a finger theough a puddle on the tabletop. "How would one go about this vault heist of yours?"

The detective smiled again, nothing drunk or vague about it at all.

Fëanor: I put the “war” in “Tengwar”

Curufin: I put the “goth” in “Nargothrond”

Elros: I put the “men” in “Numenor”

Galadriel: I put a frog in Fingolfin’s boot once. They don’t even know it was me

I read this little fact in my King Island book and i don't see it come up in any other source and it really makes some other aspects of the culture make sense so i wanted to share:

In Inupiaq cultural tradition, men would fast when they hunted. They would get up at dawn, test the weather by standing barefoot near the entrance of the house, and if hunting was an option, they'd have a little water and no food before heading out. A man wouldn't eat anything that day until he got home in the evening

You're telling me that I can't eat plain marinara sauce for lunch, even if it's my safe food? Who came up with that rule?