VanyaNoldo22

【UNWAVERING】

In this post, a faerie is asking for ‘your’ name. The way he is wording it, however, and the accompanying beckoning motion, makes it seem as though he is asking for you to physically hand your name over. Which, because of how some faeries operate, he is.

In this instance, saying your name aloud to the fae would be literally giving your name over to him, the exact consequences of which are left up to the imagination–usually, a fae even knowing your name gives it some measure of power over you, but giving something your name would likely let it completely take over your life.

You recognize him instantly. It is the Fæ whose influence your village is under, the one the elders have told you and your friends to be wary about, for the people who have been seen walking away with him have never come back.

You don’t know what he does to them. The villagers have never dared to confront him about it, never dare to address to him at all. He is not evil: he sometimes speaks blessings upon the cattle, talks the horses to calm after a storm, ensures a good harvest for the farmers, makes the flower bloom in spring even when the weather is still too cold. He is, simply, a Fæ, whose ways humans cannot understand.

Tolkien gets a lot of respect for being a great storyteller, but I think a lot of times people don’t really understand that, as an author, he had an amazing command of language and style (and poetry). I wanted to share my favorite passage of his, in terms of linguistic style, which comes from the Return of the King, for those who may not be as familiar with his work. It is worthwhile to read this aloud and really listen to how the sentences flow: 

“And far away, as Frodo put on the Ring and claimed it for his own, even in Sammath Naur the very heart of his realm, the Power in Barad-dûr was shaken, and the Tower trembled from its foundations to its proud and bitter crown. The Dark Lord was suddenly aware of him, and his Eye piercing all shadows looked across the plain to the door that he had made; and the magnitude of his own folly was revealed to him in a blinding flash, and all the devices of his enemies were at last laid bare. Then his wrath blazed in consuming flame, but his fear rose like a vast black smoke to choke him. For he knew his deadly peril and the thread upon which his doom now hung. From all his policies and webs of fear and treachery, from all his stratagems and wars his mind shook free; and throughout his realm a tremor ran, his slaves quailed, and his armies halted, and his captains suddenly steerless, bereft of will, wavered and despaired. For they were forgotten. The whole mind and purpose of the Power that wielded them was now bent with overwhelming force upon the Mountain. At his summons, wheeling with a rending cry, in a last desperate race there flew, faster than the winds, the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths, and with a storm of wings they hurtled southwards to Mount Doom.”

Happy Halloween! 🎃 How about a treat in the form of a bit from my Maglor Sails With Celebrian WIP?

“I’m sorry if I upset your mother,” Celebrian said as he drew nearer, her eyes on the tiny silver fish darting around her ankles.

“She’s not upset,” Maglor assured her as he joined her on the bank. “Just concerned. She didn’t understand the choice of the Peredhel as well as I thought. I explained it to her, and she knows now.”

She nodded, the tight anxious knot in her chest easing a little. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy for you to speak of either.”

He shrugged a little, tugging off his own shoes and rolling up his leggings to the knee before dunking his feet in the stream as well. “No, but better me than you. That’s why I’m here, if you recall, to help.”

Celebrian made a sharp kick with one of her feet, sending a spray of water up to splash him. “You’re here for more than that, if you recall,” she said, earning a huff of laughter.

“Yes, yes, companion and helper, I’m aware! Don’t glare at me so, Celebrian, it reminds me too much of your mother when she’s about to spear me for being too melancholic!”

“Good! Someone must remind you!”

Maglor laughed again, the sound like golden light, and it made her own spirits lift a little. She leaned against him, letting her head fall to his shoulder and he put an arm around her to let her draw nearer.

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This is the sort of person he is and has always been, and honestly, it's awe-inspiring and deserves hero worship and love. What he didn't deserve was his treatment at like everyone's hands. He could've sought revenge by letting the juniors kill themselves and thin out the number of young talents, secretly staged the downfall of cultivation society as revenge yet at every turn, he chose to be so so good.