Lordnelson100

Everyone: What the fuck

Lord Sméagol

Gollum the Great

The Gollum 

- what time it is

- how long you’ve been reading

- how many chapters you’ve covered in the last 24 hours

- what you were late for because you were reading

- the woeful few hours you have left to sleep

- the emotional outbreaks you’re experiencing

- the inappropriate place you’re having said outbreak

- the general public’s reaction to your outbreak

I love counsil in Mithrim because it gave me laughing Maedhros and this:

Russian scientists tracking migrating eagles ran out of money after some of the birds flew to Iran and Pakistan and their SMS transmitters drew huge data roaming charges.

After learning of the team’s dilemma, Russian mobile phone operator Megafon offered to cancel the debt and put the project on a special, cheaper tariff.

The team had started crowdfunding on social media to pay off the bills.

The birds left from southern Russia and Kazakhstan.

The journey of one steppe eagle, called Min, was particularly expensive, as it flew to Iran from Kazakhstan.

Min accumulated SMS messages to send during the summer in Kazakhstan, but it was out of range of the mobile network. Unexpectedly the eagle flew straight to Iran, where it sent the huge backlog of messages.

Maedhros the tall

Maedhros laughed saying: 'A king is he that can hold his own or else his title is vain. Thingol does but grant us lands where his power does not run. Indeed Doriath alone would be his realm this day but for the coming of the Noldor.Therefore in Doriath let him reign and be glad that he has the sons of Finwe for his neighbours not the Orcs of Morgoth that we found.

the plot: and then they find out that the character everyone thought had died holding off the enemy forces after helping the heroes escape was actually captured by the villain and has been alive this whole time

me:

The body just straight-up died, which was unexpected. Normally that sort of thing would be inconvenient and mildly traumatic - Luthien threatened him with it, an Age of the world ago, and he was eager to avoid it - but not insurmountable. He’s made himself new forms dozens of times. But this time, there’s a problem. The body has the Ring, and with it the greater part of his power. One of those unforeseen consequences that comes with binding yourself to matter!

This was so obvious when I realized it, but I think most people miss it, because we’re so desensitized by D&D-style magic with immediate, visibly, flashy effects, rather than more subtle and invisible forces of magic. When Gollum attacks Frodo on the slopes of Mount Doom, Frodo has the chance to kill him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says:

Frodo: Go! And if you ever lay hands on me again, you yourself shall be cast into the Fire!

Frodo’s not just talking shit here. He is literally, magically laying a curse. He’s holding the One Ring in his hands as he says it; even Sam, with no magic powers of his own, can sense that some powerful mojo is being laid down. Frodo put a curse on Gollum: if you try to take the Ring again, you’ll be cast into the Fire.

All the other people in the franchise who were offered the Ring declined to take it because they were wise enough to know that if they used its power – and the pressure to do so would be too great – they would be subject to its corruption.

Could he have been drawing on the Ring’s power at this point in the story? At this point in the story we’re relying on Sam’s narration, and Sam doesn’t know what’s going on in Frodo’s head, so it’s hard to say for sure. Having used it once, after spending so long holding out against it, was that the breach in the dam?

Which means that the moment that Frodo succumbs to temptation is not the moment at the volcano – it was already too late by then. The moment he is taken by temptation was when he used the power of the Ring to repel Gollum.

‘I would ask one thing before we go,’ said Frodo, ‘a thing which I often meant to ask Gandalf in Rivendell. I am permitted to wear the One Ring: why cannot I see all the others and know the thoughts of those that wear them?’

‘You have not tried,’ [Galadriel] said. ‘Only thrice have you set the Ring upon your finger since you knew what you possessed. Do not try! It would destroy you. Did not Gandalf tell you that the rings give power according to the measure of each possessor? Before you could use that power you would need to become stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others.’

In other words:

Frodo asks Galadriel, herself carrying a Ring of Power, “Could I, hypothetically, use the power of the One Ring to do something magical aside from turning invisible?” and Galadriel replies, “Yes, hypothetically, you totally could, assuming the magic you want to do involves laying compulsions on others, but I strongly recommend against it, because it would fuck up your brain.”

This was in the first book. At the end of the third book Frodo uses the Ring to fuck Gollum up, forcing him to throw himself into lava if he disobeys Frodo’s commands.

‘Down, down!’ [Frodo] gasped, clutching his hand to his breast, so that beneath the cover of his leather shirt he clasped the Ring. ‘Down, you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You cannot slay me or betray me now.’

Then suddenly, Sam saw these two rivals with other vision. A crouching shape, scarcely more than the shadow of a living thing, a creature now wholly ruined and defeated, yet filled with a hideous lust and rage; and before it stood stern, untouchable now by pity, a figure robed in white, but at its breast it held a wheel of fire. Out of the fire there spoke a commanding voice.

‘Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.’

Then the vision passed and Sam saw Frodo standing, hand on breast, his breath coming in great gasps, and Gollum at his feet, resting on his knees with his wide-splayed hands upon the ground.

…

Frodo is sparing Gollum’s life here, and shaping that into his curse. He is only cursing Gollum—can only curse Gollum—as an effect of this mercy; if Gollum were dead, he could not be cursed by Frodo or the Ring; his survival makes the curse possible and serves as payment for the curse: they are in effect making a bargain here, wherein Golllum’s life and his sentence of dying in the Fires of Doom should he take the Ring again are as one, a package deal, which Gollum “accepts” by retreating with his life.

Then, once Frodo comes to Mount Doom, he cannot cast the ring into the fires; the Ring has him in thrall, since he has used it. Now into the picture again comes Gollum, whose greed for the Ring has surpassed his love of his own life—even having been cursed with death should he touch it again, he craves it and demands it for himself, taking it from Frodo by force.

Thus we see the Ring’s power divided against itself—it has defeated both Frodo and Gollum, and its defeat of Gollum inspires Gollum to fight Frodo for it, invoking the curse. And thus Sauron, who has it, now, by virtue of both its erstwhile Bearers falling under its (and therefore its Lord’s) sway, is cheated out of it by the effects of Frodo’s act of mercy.

Frodo spared Gollum, and used the Ring’s power to set a curse, and when Frodo faltered, it was Gollum whom he spared who took the Ring from him and invoked that curse, falling into the Fires of Doom and, due to the same greed that defeated Frodo, taking the Ring with him.

If there had been no sparing Gollum, there would have been no curse, and Frodo would have had the task Isildur failed at—destroying the (beautiful, useful, lovely ring)—set before him alone, and he may have succeeded, or he may have failed, or he may have tarried too long in the struggle for Sauron’s destruction to come in a timely fashion, or the resolution and the Ring’s destruction may have hurt him far beyond the loss of a finger.

Instead, there was Gollum, in thrall to Sauron yet doomed by Frodo, to take from Frodo both the Ring and the burden of destroying it. Frodo, in his mercy-tinged use of the Ring, effectively shifted the impetus behind the Ring’s destruction from himself to the doom laid on Gollum—and Sauron’s hold over Gollum made it a near certainty that the doom would come to pass: Gollum would die, and not surrender the Ring, and thus the Ring would fall with him into the fires of Mount Doom.

I was legitimately thrilled with the overall reception of my costume. I never could’ve imagined that it would make so many people so happy! But I exchanged so many hugs and daps and high fives, it was unreal. I had a lot of really great conversations with people that were just super excited to see some Native representation at the convention. So that part was really special for me, because that was a big part of my own personal inspiration to begin with.

I originally brainstormed this costume in late 2015, but I really started rolling on production this last year, once I committed to this years SDCC… My main goal was to make a Native American variant of a fan-favorite character. I was immediately drawn to Captain America because of everything he symbolizes as basically the poster boy of a nation. To me it was the perfect parallel. And once I visualized the red and white bone breastplate on my abdomen, I knew this was something I had to see through.

A lot of old school leather work with the awl! The majority of the armor was made from a base of 6mm EVA foam with 3 oz deer hide glued over it. The pieces were then stitched together with sinew or leather lace. Using this technique allowed me to form curves and build the necessary bulk of the armor pieces while also getting the suede textures I was looking for. And a whole lot of beading!

—- https://www.instagram.com/hot.glue.burns/

Even as he started to recoil, he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. The worst part, he mused with a sense of detached horror, was that this meant they’d figure it out. It wouldn’t take a genius to put things together, once Crowley was reduced to a puddle of sodden clothes and a wisp of steam. Heaven and Hell would realise they’d pulled some kind of trick.

After he was gone, they’d come for Aziraphale.

Time slowed to a crawl. He twisted, trying to buy time to come up with a way out, to imagine an outcome where the sparkling droplets arcing towards him didn’t catch him across the chest. No time. No options.

He closed his eyes.

I’m sorry, angel.

There was a thunderous roar, a shattering crack, and the overpowering scent of ozone. Gravity tilted the ground out from underneath him… and then stopped.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open, ears ringing and head spinning.

Aziraphale stood over him. The angel was wrapped around him, holding him up with one arm behind his waist and the other supporting his head. Crowley blinked at him, disoriented. Everything was too bright. White feathers swam in his vision behind the angel’s face.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale breathed, eyes wide with shock and inhumanly blue.

Crowley clawed his way out of the fog of confusion, tightening his grip on the angel’s jacket. Awareness snapped back in. They were in the doorway, Aziraphale’s back to the open door. His wings were out, one curved protectively around Crowley and the other angled to block the door.

Water dripped steadily from the tips of the gleaming feathers, falling to pool on the doorstep.

Crowley’s jaw dropped open. “Angel… how…”

Aziraphale moved the hand behind his head around to cup Crowley’s face. His eyes, still bright with otherworldly intensity, darted over the demon’s face, and his lip trembled.

“I knew it,” crowed Hastur’s voice.

Aziraphale’s face went utterly blank, hardening to marble. Crowley sucked in a breath, startled by the sudden change, but the angel’s fingers stroked over his cheek, soothing and gentle. Aziraphale closed his eyes, and briefly pressed his forehead against Crowley’s.

Then he straightened. And turned.

He took a step towards Hastur, and a surge of chilling ethereal power made Crowley stagger backwards. One step, then another, the angel’s feet struck the ground with the sound of a deafening bell. Invisible power gathered around him, righteous and malevolent, and as he walked onto the street his wings stretched wide.

“I do believe,” he said, voice terrible and vast and almost painful to Crowley’s ears, “you’re at the wrong shop.”

Hastur stared at the angel, at his flaming blue eyes, and crackling power, and the holy water still dripping from his wing.

YOU ONLY KEEP ONE BULL