I Read This Little Fact In My King Island Book And I Don't See It Come Up In Any Other Source And It

Maeglin and Idril in Uzbek Gondolin

Thank you to @the-quiet-fire-of-defiance​ for helping me work out how to do this and for writing an image description

Image description: an edit with nine images. 1: a headshot of an Uzbek man. 2: A photo of some stone buildings. 3: a photo of a city from above. A large pale tower, lit up with warm lights from inside, is surrounded by smaller stone buildings including what looks like a mosque. 4: a sketch of Gondolin by FelixSotomayorArt on DeviantArt. 5: a photo of an Uzbek knife next to its beautifully detailed sheath. 6: a photo taken between two blue buildings covered in geometric designs. 7: a sunrise/sunset over a cluster of stone buildings, dotted with archways and domes. 8: an Uzbek woman in brightly coloured clothes holding a pomegranate. 9: a banner reading “Gondolin” in white text, with a moon and star symbol on either side.

this looks like love

~ This was Beleg’s knife. It was more beautiful than any knife he had seen before, the blade covered with intricate designs of leaves and stars and the crossings of rivers and trees.

‘This looks like love,’ his father would have said. He said that about beautiful things wrought with care: knives and swords, baskets, shawls, quilts, jackets. His broken harp. Túrin still didn’t know what it meant. Not entirely. ~

***

Túrin woke to find himself alone. Beleg’s bed was made up, so were the others'. He got up and washed. He was close enough to Menegroth that there was no real danger if he did not run off alone. He drank sweet water and ate lingonberries and cheese and bread.

Beleg had not woken him early, so he would not study to hunt that day. Beleg had let him rest. Perhaps Beleg had gone to hunt without him. Túrin stepped out onto the small porch of the cabin in his nightshirt.

There Beleg sat, making arrows.

‘You’re awake,’ he said. Túrin nodded. He sat cross legged beside Beleg and stared at the sun. It was midday.

‘I slept a long time.’

‘You were tired.’

Túrin nodded again. He bounced his fingers on the bruises on his knees. He liked how his fingers felt as they bounced off his skin. Beleg did not ask him why he did it or call him strange. Túrin swept his hands up and down, turning his hands in the air, so that his fingers came down first facing his knees and then turned from them, again and again.

‘Do I go back to Menegroth today?’ he asked. He reached for mint leaves from the ground and pressed three into his mouth.

‘No,’ Beleg said. Túrin turned his face up to the sun.

‘When then?’

‘In two days.’

‘And then you will go far afield?’ Túrin said. ‘For all the winter?’ He let his hands fly again, bouncing off his knees. He chewed the mint leaves and swallowed their taste.

‘Not for all the winter, I don’t think,’ Beleg answered. ‘I would miss you.’

Túrin stopped bouncing his hands to pick mint leaves for Beleg. He handed them to him. Beleg took them and nodded his thanks. He ate them and kept making arrows.

‘Do you want to speak of which you dreamt?’ Beleg asked.

‘No,’ Túrin said. He waved his hand, letting it spin at his wrist. ‘I think everyone was dead. I was dead.’

Beleg patted Túrin’s knee gently. Túrin brushed the spot when Beleg had pulled his hair back. He didn’t like the lingering touch that seemed to tingle on his skin, even from those he loved. He tried to do it when Beleg wasn’t looking. He had brushed off his father’s touches and kisses. Sometimes he let his mother’s stay, but it agitated him to have a part of his skin even a little wet or a bit different from the rest. He didn’t know why being touched left an impression of the touch on his skin, but it did. He had asked Beleg if he could feel a touch after it was gone. Beleg had said yes, but he hadn’t been bothered by it.

Túrin looked at the yard. It was green and damp. Mud was spreading though. It must have rained a little when he slept. It was quiet, and it smelt like cold rain. Soon the leaves would change colour.

‘Are we alone?’ Túrin asked.

‘Yes,’ Beleg said. ‘The others left last night. They are needed farther North.’

‘Where you will go.’

‘Yes, where I will go.’

Túrin shoved his bare feet down onto the ground. It was soft enough that they sunk a bit into it. It was cold. The grass tickled his skin. Túrin stood and took a large step into the yard. His foot sunk down again, the ground giving a bit beneath him. He walked the yard around like that, in long strides, watching his feet leave impressions in the wet earth, feeling the cold of it.

He liked that the grass was green and not brown. He liked that the ground was wet and not frozen. He ran back to the porch and stood on it with his muddy feet.

‘Wash up,’ Beleg said. ‘You can’t go inside like that.’

‘I know.’ Túrin stood on his tiptoes to touch the very top of the porch where the two slanted roofs met each other.

Beleg patted his leg. ‘Wash. Then put some clothes on. Thingol and Melian will not be pleased if I bring you home ill.’

Túrin wrinkled his nose but threw some cold water from the rain barrel onto his feet and wiped them clean with a rag. He went back inside and came out dressed and with shoes on.

‘Don’t you look darling,’ Beleg said. Túrin had put this underneath ‘strange things that Elves say to each other and sometimes to you but that don’t need a response’ so he tramped off without a response to pee.

He came back to Beleg after and stared at his muddy footprints on the porch where he had been sitting. Beleg gave him a pointed look. Túrin wiped them up with the same rag and hung it over the side of the rain barrel to dry. He sat down again and took the knife that Beleg gave him.

This was Beleg’s knife. It was more beautiful than any knife he had seen before, the blade covered with intricate designs of leaves and stars and the crossings of rivers and trees.

‘This looks like love,’ his father would have said. He said that about beautiful things wrought with care: knives and swords, baskets, shawls, quilts, jackets. His broken harp. Túrin still didn’t know what it meant. Not entirely.

‘This looks like love,’ he said, for maybe Beleg knew the answer.

Beleg studied him. Beleg’s face was ancient but barely lined. It was his eyes that made it ancient. They were like the night sky and all the stars in it – maybe just as old, or maybe younger, but not enough that it would it matter to Túrin when he thought of the ages of the world.

‘Yes,’ Beleg said. ‘Care is love.’

Túrin said no more.

The difference between Beren and Luthien and Aragorn and Arwen is that the former follows the conventions of fairy tale and the latter follows the conventions of courtly love. In this essay I will

my life has been comedy hell for the past 48 hours. so this tiktok zoomer used my email address to sign up for a tiktok account. how tiktok allowed them to do this, i have no idea. aren’t real, respectable social media sites supposed to force you to validate the email before it is used? smh. but i noticed this about a week or so ago. i sent tiktok a ticket telling them to take my email off to no avail. okay, so after receiving the 20th tiktok notification in my email i decide to take matters into my own hands. i reset the password on the account and logged in to make it stop.

then, i posted a tiktok telling the user to POST THEIR EMAIL IN THE COMMENTS so I can change the account ownership over to them. sounds simple enough, but it is here that i truly learned the failure of the american education system. the original user and their friend posted hysterically about how they were going to “text tiktok” to get the account back, i’m a hacker, their username only has letters and numbers in it, how did you change the password, etc. i explained, over ten times, simply and nicely, that this person signed up with my email, and i simply need them to read the instructions and post their email so i can change the account ownership.

whoever is raising zoomers have failed. mfers can’t even read anything more complex than a tiktok caption anymore. stop letting these ipads raise your children or i will call copmala harris. this is the living result of politicians defunding public education. anyway. after an hour, i suppose the two and a half braincells they share rubbed together and an email was provided, but the email is already attached to another account!

i realized this absolute child prodigy signs up for tiktok accounts with emails they have no control over and she makes new accounts when she needs to reset the password. she’s in Fr*aking high school and by that age I know yall have to use your email for stuff. wtf. like this is some shit i’d expect my over 70 year old internet savy-less grandmother to do, and not even she does this! Anyway. Maybe I will receive a functional email at some point today. They are probably asleep because they need to wake up early to attend the grade school that is not teaching them how to read. 😎🔫 WAIT NO THEY ARE NOT IT IS THE WEEKEND. 😎🔫

So I was doing some thinking on the Huge Spiders that haunt Greenwood and I had some THOUGHTS about how it might affect the ecosystem of the forest. Now, these thoughts are sort of based on two main assumptions. 

One - That the spiders either grew larger and larger over a steady period of time OR 

Two - They didn’t wipe out the original habitat and ecosystems to the point of all other animals dying or being driven out / eaten and allowed time for change and adaptation. 

There are several animals that regularly eat spiders in normal settings and ecosystems including but not limited to: Other Spiders, Wasps, Reptiles, Amphibians, Praying Mantis’, Scorpions, and Birds. 

When a certain part of an ecosystem begins to change dramatically the rest of it is sort of forced to change along with it, or die out. And I think that Greenwood chose to change along with the Spiders. That as the Spiders grew, so did the creatures that hunted them. 

So not only does Greenwood have unnaturally large Spiders, they have huge Wasps flying around through their tree’s. Each wing is nearly the length of a fully grown Silvan, and their stingers the size of a leg. You can hear them buzzing from miles away but they’re almost impossible to see until they're right upon you. Their nests no longer hang from the trees as they are too heavy, but fill entire meadows bigger than a human's house. 

Lizards and other reptiles skitter along the ground or across thick branches. As silent as ever but each one capable of killing or at the very least putting up a damn good fight against a spider. They grow more teeth, or become venoms as a self defense. Snapping turtles lurk in the riverbeds, large enough to snap several elves in half if it so wished. Waiting, lurking, always ready to snap at the next thing to wander by. 

Cunning birds grew in size to accommodate the extra muscle needed to power they're powerful thick beaks, able to peck through a spider's shell with one go. Or snap a leg off with ease. Smaller birds linger around these larger one’s, each one being elected the ‘ruler’ of part of the forest. Gone are the days where songbirds ruled the canopies, and here are the days ruled by lightning fast hunters, each beak thicker than the bark on the three’s or the weight of a door. 

Beetles large enough to ride and pull carts scuttle around too. Their exoskeleton is almost more sturdy than metal and their blood contains anti-venom components that keep them moving even after they’ve been stung or bitten by other animals. Their heads seem to have helmets now, and their tunnels underneath the forest rumble with their movements. 

Other creatures have to get bigger too, or become meaner. Harder to kill. Fish grow in size to become more difficult for birds to find, growing teeth of their own and a taste of any flesh that comes too close to their waters edge or passes too slowly over their waters. 

The wolves get taller, become faster runners with wide jaws and better muscled to clamp them down. Deer horns begin to stay year round, more pointed than seen anywhere else so serve as self defense. 

Greenwood is not a place of huge spiders. Greenwood is a place of huge, terrifying, and weird creatures.  The kind that should only find existence in nightmares, the kind that should never exist. The kind that even Eru would cringe when gazing upon them. 

I like to think that Fingolfin made a big point of making sure that all four of his kids got exactly the same amount of hugs.

He never made a big declaration of it or rubbed it in Finwe's face but it was rather important to him to not repeat that particular mistake

Perhaps there was one kid that he found slightly easier to talk to (maybe Argon since hes the first one to tragically die, or Turgon as they were both on the "stay in tirion" team during the debate) and though this never affected his actions he may have carried the slightest twinge of low level guilt for it

Cries in writer

I did some more fantasy archery trope testing. This time the arrow stabby thing!

Ozai is so pathetic, like that “take his bending away haha he’s harmless now” trick would never have worked on Zuko, if you took his bending away he’d just grab his swords and come at you twice as hard, Azula doesn’t have swords or anything but she’s pretty good at hand to hand and amazing at talking her way out of problems, Iroh bust himself out of prison with no bending at all, meanwhile Ozai? Gets his bending taken away and then just collapses, doesn’t even try anymore, then just sits in prison and tries to get into Zuko’s head some more, he could have trained up and tried to break out too! But no! Bet he can’t break steel bars with his bare hands. Bet he can’t kick a steel lever in two. Bet he can’t even do a flip.

Also we never really see him do any really impressive firebending apart from when he has magic comet power, I guesss he shoots some lightning at Zuko, but that’s it and Azula is still better at the lightning thing. Azula has blue flames. Zuko can do firebreakdancing and bend with his swords. Does Ozai, who is not 14 years old, have blue flames? No he doesn’t.

He didn’t even do his coup himself, Ursa had to kill Azulon for him! Could have just challenged Iroh to an Agni Kai for the throne but he didn’t bc he knew he’d lose.

And then he only ruled for like 6 years! He lost a war that had been going on for 100 years bc of a bunch of kids.

Loserlord indeed

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?