a fool's musings

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Fool, said my muse to me,
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03.03.03 - 11:26 p.m.

Against the Girlification of Legolas, and also, the Sun is female in Tolkien

In the comments, hossgal asks:
Okay, is there anything *in LoTR* about the Sun/Moon thing, because I was working on a post about all the things a writer could use to bring the Legolas studly-ness factor into focus...(a quasi-rant tenitively titled "Why is Legolas always the girl?") ... and any help from Tolkien himself would be greatly appreciated.

I say, Why yes, yes there is. Page 172 in my copy, while Frodo sings his little song:

The round Moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her head.
She* (asterisk is Tolkien's) hardly believed her fiery eye;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all when back to bed!

And what does it say by that asterisk?

Elves (and Hobbits) always refer to the Sun as She.

And I am *so* with you on the girly!Legolas thing.

Okay, he's very, very pretty, but goddamn, he's a killing machine.

*meep*

Did you watch him fight hand-to-hand in Meduseld?

*swoon*

Plus all the really cool archery tricks, and the knives. The long knives...

*fans self*

Not girly at all, just very, very pretty.

I myself have argued against the girlification of Legolas in previous posts in this diary. I don't get it, and I'm lucky enough to have avoided most fic where it occurs. Of course, I haven't read a lot of Legolas/Aragorn, which is where I bet most of it is written. No doubt with manly, scruffy Aragorn overwhelming girlishly shy Legolas, or some other claptrap.

Feh.

~victoria



link

[current mood: amused]
[current music: Wishing Well- Bob Mould]
[random quote: Banish play and laughter from the bed of love and you may let in a false goddess.\" The Four Loves, CS Lewis]

~*~

03.03.03 - 10:51 a.m.

In Bloom

This is completely and utterly Naomi Chana's fault.

In the comments on my last entry, she wrote:
Legolas and Eowyn... well, if you want to work with book canon, do bear in mind that Legolas is head of the Elven community in Ithilien for the first 120 years of the Fourth Age while Eowyn is the Princess of Ithilien and -- apparently -- really into gardening. I find it difficult to believe she's not hanging out with the Elves occasionally, especially since I can't imagine she'd integrate all that well among the high-born women of Gondor -- ethnic prejudice (no matter how much she takes after Morwen of Lossarnach, she's still a barbarian), pure jealousy (she just snagged the most eligible bachelor left alive in Minas Tirith), and massive lack of common interests. Also remember that Aragorn and Eomer go fighting together a lot early in their reigns, and there's a good chance that Faramir might either go with them or wind up in Minas Tirith holding down the fort.

And lo, and behold, this came to me as I tried to get to bed early last night, and so failed miserably.

In Bloom

The daffodils are late this year.

Éowyn, Lady of Ithilien, stands in her garden, tending to her plants. The sun is warm against her skin, the air sweet, and birds sing to their mates. Spring is come again to Ithilien, after the long and cold winter.

All is well in the world, she thinks, all is as it should be.

But the daffodils are not in bloom, and once again, she is alone.

Faramir is in Minas Tirith, while the king is off to war. Once she'd have chafed over being left behind, but she has not the strength recently to care.

She lays a hand on the flat of her belly. It is the first day she has been allowed out of bed since her loss, the first true day of spring.

The gardeners hover and she dismisses them with a brusque wave. "Tend to the north lawn," she says, "I wish to be alone."

They are used to her, have grown to love her in the years she has lived there. They have no use for the idle gossip that labels her a barbarian, a woman who masquerades as a man, a stranger who stole Lord Faramir away from the ladies of Minas Tirith.

She laughs at the gossip; the venomous tongues of women have no power to harm her. She has been inured to them since her days as a young girl, trailing after Éomer, learning how to fight with the boys.

No, it is her inability to present her lord with a child that troubles her, and she lavishes all her care on her garden, as if in bringing the bare earth to life, she can quicken life within her belly.

"'Tis a beautiful day, my lady."

She starts at the sound.

"Aye," she agrees.

Legolas, lord of the Elves of Ithilien, and chief among the healers who have watched over her these past few days, raises his face to the sun. She catches her breath at the way sunlight limns his form, gold and green, as if the Sun herself* has taken on flesh and walks the gardens of Ithilien.

He turns to her, and the moment is lost. He is again the boon companion of the king, and an ever-present comfort in her own life, which is sadly lacking warmth and growth these days.

"I am worried about the daffodils," she says, and fears her desperation shows in her voice.

They bloomed on her wedding day, and she, who has never been one for superstition, has begun to imbue the flowers with mystical powers. As they go, she fears, so goes her marriage.

"It was a cold winter," he replies. "They will be fine."

"Will they?"

He holds out a hand and she takes it, cursing herself for this show of weakness.

"They are hardy, and of good stock."

He traces a small circle over the back of her hand with his thumb. She shivers at the touch, and longs for Faramir's hand, no less strong and ever more dear. She wonders if the news has reached him, and why a messenger has not been sent in return. She wonders if this, her second failure in the three years of their marriage, will bring a frost upon their love.

"Gerthil mentioned digging them up and replanting them." And now she can hear the tears that prick at her eyes and stop her throat.

"There is no need, Éowyn," Legolas says, drawing her into an embrace. "The daffodils will bloom." She buries her face in his tunic, breathing in the scent of leaves and loam and the lightest hint of something else, which must be his own particular musk.

"The daffodils, aye," she chokes out, her words muffled. "And what of my marriage?"

He squeezes her tightly for a moment, then places a hand on her chin to raise her face to his.

"You worry needlessly," he says. "All things happen in their own time, and your time is not yet at hand."

"It is easy for you to speak of time," she says bitterly. "You have all the time in the world. What can an Elf know of such sorrow?"

His blue eyes, normally clear as the sky, darken with pain, and she knows she has scored a hit. Some part of her, fierce and cruel, is glad that she can still wound with words, even if she no longer wields a sword. Mostly, though, she is ashamed. Legolas has been nothing but kind to her; she knows he would rather be with the king, or rather, with Gimli, who rides at the king's side on this journey, but Faramir had asked him to stay, to watch over her, and she knew her previous... difficulties were much in their minds.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and the words sound as brittle as she feels.

She sometimes wonders who this creature is that she's become, puttering around the gardens, wishing for a child to fill her belly, shaming herself with bitter words and hot tears at the turn of a moment.

"It is hard to be left behind," he says, and she knows he speaks not only of the battle they are missing, but his own abiding on these shores whilst so many of his kindred sail away to the Undying West.

He disentangles himself from her and leads her to the flowerbed. "See, they are green and growing and soon to burst into flower."

At first she cannot see, and it is on the tip of her tongue to tell him so, that she has not Elvish eyes to see things that aren't there, but then she spies a small bud bending one of the long green stalks. It heartens her and she turns to him and smiles, letting the warm sun dry her tears.

His arm tenses, then, and she knows he can hear something she cannot.

"A rider approaches," he says. "At great speed."

A moment, then two, pass and she can also hear hoofbeats. It is her turn to lead and she pulls Legolas along the garden path to the front of the manor. She is sure in her heart that it is a messenger from Faramir, and she is eager for the words of her beloved.

And he is there, dismounting as they reach the front lawn.

"Faramir," she cries, releasing Legolas' hand to fly into her husband's arms.

"Éowyn, my love," he says, raining kisses on her hair and face before taking her lips with his. When they are finally able to speak again, he says, "Ought you be up and about?"

Legolas steps forward then, and offers Faramir an embrace. "We have been taking the sun in the garden," he says. "It is a healing warmth."

"Just so," Faramir replies, and though his smile is tinged with sadness, Éowyn cannot help but note that he smiles.

"I will heal the faster now that you are here," she says, wrapping her arm about his waist, caring not for what the servants say of such displays of affection.

Legolas nods. "What nature does not mend, love often will." He inclines his head. "I will take my leave now, and return tomorrow."

"Thank you," she calls after him. Then, to Faramir, "When no word came--"

"I set out at once, as soon as the message arrived," he interrupts. "It was faster, and I was loath to lose time."

"I'm so sorry I have failed you again," she says, searching his face.

"Failed me? No. Never that," he replies. "Not as long as you are well." He pulls her close for another kiss and then says, "There will be time, my love. There will be time."

"When the daffodils are in bloom," she murmurs, and he laughs against her lips.

/fin

*I think the Sun is feminine and the Moon masculine in the Tolkien-verse, because I recall being surprised at the way it was the opposite of the usual gendering. So no, this is not a comment on Legolas' masculinity. And while the Faramir in my head in this story is dark-haired and grey-eyed (aka, Book!Faramir), I'm going with Movie!Legolas because... pretty! And I just have a fascination with him and Eowyn together, with all that long, blonde hair blowing in the wind...

Yeah.

::wanders off into L/E fantasyland.

And...

I'm back.

Naomi also soothes my anxieties regarding Eowyn's role in RotK with this:
*soothes* No, they're not going to take away Eowyn's big moment. They'll just have Arwen show up with the banner, and probably kick butt during some lame-ass combat scene when they take control of the Corsairs' ships

and now that I think on it, no one has yet presented Aragorn with the reforged Narsil, renamed Anduril. Could *that* be what Arwen will bring him if indeed she accompanies Elladan, Elrohir and the Dunedain? Because while the scene by Gilraen's grave seems to be the best place for Elrond to have presented Anduril to Aragorn (when he says, "I do not want this power. I have never wanted it."), he doesn't. At least, not that I can see, even though Elrond says, "Elves have the power to reforge the Sword That Was Broken, but only you have the power to wield it."

And Celeborn gives him the knife, not a sword. And he parts with his sword easily on his arrival at Edoras (and I wish the disarming scene was just a little longer, because that was true and funny) and I would guess he loses it in his little swan-dive off the cliff. Or you'd think someone would have made a big deal over collecting it.

And I am just *so* easily distracted whenever I get to talking about LotR.

Naomi was kind enough not to correct my confusion over the whole possibility of Legolas/Dernhelm, which would, of course, not be possible. Because Dernhelm rides out with Theoden, not Aragorn. I was confuzzled and misremembering.

*However*, a L/A/E possibility is opened up the night before Aragorn leaves Dunharrow, and then there's that heartbreaking, "Wilt thou go?" "I will." scene the morning after. I like morning after scenes.

Which, you know, isn't going to happen in the movie, is it? Or it'll happen at Helm's Deep instead of Dunharrow?

Ah, speculation is pointless. I didn't anticipate what Jackson et al. did in TTT and I certainly can't claim to have any clue what they're going to do in RotK.

I'll just have to fic along and hope for the best.

~victoria



link

[current mood: thoughtful. also, cold]
[current music: Low Spark of High Heeled Boys - Traffic]
[random quote: If I gave you everything that I owned And asked for nothing in return Would you do the same for me as I would for you?]

~*~

03.02.03 - 3:19 p.m.

musings on the pretty pretty

So I was working on the sex comedy last night, and I seem not to be able to bring the comedy with the sex.

So now I'm thinking I might just split the sex out completely, and try something altogether different. Maybe go back to Shy!Virginal!Legolas for the sex comedy, and make the sex scenes I've already written with MackDaddy!Legolas a story unto themselves.

The only problem with this is that I have no reason whatsoever for Legolas and Eowyn to ever even exchange words, let alone bodily fluids.

I mean, hmmm...

I've never been a proponent of "But they're so pretty!" as a reason for writing fic. It tends to leave me cold, because it's not about the characters, then, it's about the bodies. And while I'm a big fan of the bodies - I'm not going to lie and say that the physical attractiveness *doesn't* play a part in my desire to write about certain characters (or, in fact, that the lack of same makes it more difficult for me to envision them having sex. This is one of my major issues with writing Legolas/Gimli, and any sort of Snape sex. I adore Gimli, but I don't find him attractive. And Snape, well, I don't like Snape and while Alan Rickman is *fine*, Snape just makes me cringe. Yes, I am that shallow.) - but for me to enjoy a story as a story about two characters I know and love, rather than a random sexual encounter between two very pretty people... there has to be something more than "ooh, pretty."

And I can't seem to articulate this better in the abstract, so let me try again, in the context of Legolas/Eowyn.

Legolas and Eowyn exchange no onscreen/on-page conversation that I can recall. While I can posit that they do indeed meet and speak at Helm's Deep (in the movie, as she wasn't *at* Helm's Deep in the book. Let's make that very clear - all of the fic I've written is based on the movies, as most of the stuff that's pinged with me wasn't in the books, like Aragorn going over the cliff, or was a better explanation of character than found in the books, ala Boromir, or a corruption of the character found in the books, ala Faramir), knowing what I know of the story, I can't very well posit that at some later date they meet and have a liaison. Not without a ton of backstory I'm not really interested in writing.

I can't make that fit into canon, and I have no desire to go wildly AU. Which is the main reason I chose to go with a comedy to get them together, because then I can say, "Look, I *know* it never happened and never *would* happen, but wouldn't it be funny if it did?"

And while the whole conceit of MackDaddy!Legolas makes me giggly, I don't know that it's enough to carry the sex scenes over, or if the switch from vaguely humorous to porn is too abrupt. Though I think I know how to bring the humor back around afterwards...

Hmmm...

You know, in babbling about this, I think I *will* leave the sex comedy as is, and I think I can manage a Shy!Virginal!Legolas elsewhere, if the mood strikes. I did promise my Legolas!Muse another threesome, after all...

And all of this gets to the whole "why" I write fanfic.

I mean, I've always written stories, and I've always imagined myself into already existing stories, and more recently, I've done what I think is a pretty good job at expanding and exploring already-existing universes through fanfic. And I tend to write because of sparkage, because a character or a pairing pings with me, resonates on some deep level, or the attraction between them just can't be ignored.

I'm in it for that romance that won't be given to me onscreen, mostly. That's the case with Logan and Rogue, Xander and Willow, Clark and Lex, Luke and Lorelai.

And with LotR I have particular issues that go way far back to me being 8-9 years old again. While Jo and Laurie never got together, Faramir and Eowyn *did*. And that was good. Well, it was after I got over my irrational jealousy of her for stealing my boyfriend.

But over the years, I learned to appreciate both Faramir/Eowyn *and*, to a much lesser degree, Aragorn/Arwen, though I am still in no way a big Arwen fan. Both relationships symbolize the power of hope and faithfulness and undying loyalty, and love even in the face of despair.

Faramir/Eowyn takes something that could have been ...ishy, for lack of a better word - what with him and his second-best issues and her with her infatuation with Aragorn, knowing she can never have him, and turns it into a romance that I could *feel*, far more than I ever felt Aragorn/Arwen.

And I haven't even touched on the quiet, loving beauty of Legolas/Gimli, both of whom endure things they'd otherwise shun for the other. Legolas puts off going off to Valinor for Gimli. I don't care what anyone else says. Some people may see that as platonic. I say those people are crazy.

But Legolas/Gimli is about love that endures and overcomes so many obstacles. Even if it was never physical, can you just imagine the depth and breadth of Legolas' love for the Dwarf? The Sea is calling him, everlasting life among his own people awaits, in the arms of the Valar, who are minor deities to the Elves, and he puts it off for 120 years to stay with Gimli - a Dwarf! (and the racial complications are severe, you should recall. Elves and Dwarves aren't the best of friends; they're reluctant allies at best and bitter rivals at worst) - and then, in a move completely unprecedented, he takes Gimli with him. And equally unprecendented, Gimli consents to go.

So yeah, there's a love story for you, as deep and meaningful as the love between Frodo and Sam, which I for one have never really seen as slashy, though I concede that it can be, though of all the couples in M-E, I cannot see Frodo and Sam getting it on, as I've said before, simply because of class strictures and the master-servant relationship that neither would ever transgress. They're too proper for that.

And I'm taking the long way around here, huh?

Obviously, the movies, with the strange revamping of Faramir's character, and the overwhelming prettiness of all involved, and the sheer blankness of Liv Tyler (not to mention the fact that Arwen apparently agreed to go to Valinor, and Aragorn broke up with her!) have somehow inspired me to think of Aragorn/Legolas, or wonder about Aragorn/Eowyn, and, even more strangely, Legolas/Eowyn.

But because of the tight timeline of the book, and my current inability to read Peter Jackson's mind and know what changes he's making in RotK, I can't slot Legolas/Eowyn anywhere *but* Helm's Deep, in the short time when they all believe Aragorn is dead.

I suppose it's entirely possible that I could get away with Legolas/Dernhelm. In fact, that might be a fun possibility to play out. Because just because everyone else didn't notice, doesn't mean Legolas, with his sharp Elven senses, didn't pick up on the disguise right away.

Hmmm...

And I swear to god, if Jackson takes that away from Eowyn - the Dernhelm thing, not sex with Legolas - I *will* be inspired to write a horrified fan letter to him, a veritable Howler of a letter. I could deal with Arwen instead of Glorfindel, as it makes her more integral to the story, but if he gives Arwen Eowyn's big moment, I will be very, very angry. Even more than I am about the Faramir thing, which I'm slowly resigning myself to, because hey, he did let the Ring go, right? That's what counts, right? Sigh...

And man, this is a long, long entry that ought to be wrapped up now.

I have a headache... Ooh, and my mother just brought me meatballs. Mmm...

~victoria



link

[current mood: headachy]
[current music: mets-orioles on television]
[random quote: I don't mind the sun sometimes The images it shows I can taste you on my lips And smell you in my clothes... - \"Pepper\" -]

~*~

03.01.03 - 5:29 p.m.

living in a moldy old dungeon and cackling about how you're going to kill everyone who ever wronged you strikes me as a bad plan for recruiting minions

Sigh.

No Springsteen tickets.

I hate Ticketmaster.

Don't they know it's our birthday?

That Dom and I deserve to see Bruce for our birthdays?

Bah.

Feh.

A pox upon them.

My parents are all, "Well, try a broker and if the fee's not too outrageous... We were planning on giving them to you for your birthdays anyway."

But I hate ticketbrokers. Evil, evil spoilers in the ticket-purchasing game.

Then after I finally gave up, I went back to bed and *dreamt* about being unable to get tickets.

I dreamt I had to answer all these Buffy questions in order to get the tickets.

Which is kind of funny, because Buffy was my first really intense online obsession. Bruce has and continues to be one of my musical obsessions.

I was in online fandom for Homicide, and while I was, and am, passionate and a little obsessive about the show, I never felt like I belonged on ath, nor that I was much of a contributer (though I was, in fact, the Sally Rogers of ath, a designation I thought quite fitting for both my level of comfort and contribution). Whereas on atbvs, after the first few months, I was definitely a high profile, frequent poster, and people knew my name (as an aside, through yesterday's Friday Five, one of the other old-time atbvs regulars, someone who'd been there when I was a newbie, back in June 1998, found my LJ. So. Cool.) and I was there at the beginning of many of the ng's injokes.

Anyhow, it's quite the depressing blow not to get Bruce tickets, after getting shut out last time due to the evilness of Ticketmaster's improperly loading website.

Bruce and U2 are probably my favorite artists, and those obsessions have been with me for a long time.

Dom took me to see Bruce when I was 15, for the Born in the USA tour, at Giants Stadium. It was my first concert, and very few concert experiences have matched it.

U2 at Giants Stadium. NIN at Lollapalooza. Bruce at the Garden the last time I saw him. Metallica. Bob Mould at Irving Plaza thisclose to the stage. Being in the 8th row at the Beacon for Violent Femmes. Pearl Jam in the pouring rain on Randall's Island.

I was fannish about things long before I knew what online media fandom types would consider being a fan is.

I collected all the Trixie Beldens. I read and reread LotR (more on that in a moment, as I finished TTT this morning) every year, as well as all the Pern books and the Belgariad and Narnia.

I was obsessive about Star Wars. We had spoilers then, too, you know. I knew - I forget how, but I *knew* - that Leia was Luke's sister *long* before RotJ came out. While other people were speculating that Han was the 'other' Yoda and Obi-Wan talked about (see his noble and non-whiny approach to being frozen), my little 4th grade friends and I knew it was Leia. There was no doubt.

This early obsession with SW, the fact that it was *the* seminal movie-going experience of my childhood, makes me sad about how craptacular the prequels are, and yet also makes me the perfect consumer, because regardless of the quality, you know I'll be there for Episode III. Possibly even more than once, depending on how much Ewan goodness there is.

When I turned 12 or 14, music suddenly replaced fantasy as the object of my extreme affections, and well, suffice it to say that without my burgeoning love and knowledge of new wave/alternative music in high school, I'd have been even *more* miserable than I was. Listening to WLIR allowed me to be able to speak the same language as other people - I knew what the Shriek of the Week was. I knew Tears for Fears months and months before the rest of the world. I sang "Rock Me Amadeus" and was mocked six months before it became a hit on mainstream Top 40 radio.

I taped everything. I still have all my tapes, and there is some odd, obscure 80s shit on some of them.

Along with powerhouses like U2 and REM and Depeche Mode and the Smiths and New Order (Joy Division) and the Cure, there were bands like Aztec Camera and the Psych Furs and OMD, who may have had one mainstream hit, but I knew their other songs, and was proud and snobbish about it.

This doesn't even take into account the sports fannishness of my whole family (except my sister, who only gets into things during the playoffs, an attitude I take with basketball, both pro and college. I mean, who *doesn't* love March Madness?).

I have no idea what I'm on about with this, except to ramble charmingly (I hope) about my own fannish loves.

Which brings me to LotR. So I finally buckled down and reread the after Faramir bits, because you know, all that walking and despair - not exactly the most riveting read ever. But I did it this morning, and remember now how much I love Sam, even when his subservience makes me wicked uncomfortable, and also how *normal* and *human* the Lugburz Orcs seem. I mean, they do in the Merry and Pippin sections too, but Shagrat and Gorbag seem like guys you could *know*, bitching about how the higher-ups never tell them anything and then they get in hot water for not doing what they're supposed to, except that they're Orcs and on the side of evil and wiping out everything that's good in the world.

And that's one thing I've never quite understood in the LotR or any other 'high' fantasy type novel. I don't get it with Voldemort, either, or the First. I didn't quite get it with Angelus and I still don't, now.

Why does Evil want the world to be barren and ugly? I can understand the desire for pain and wretchedness and rivers of blood, etc. (especially if that's what you're feeding on), but living in a moldy old dungeon and cackling about how you're going to kill everyone who ever wronged you strikes me as a ... bad plan for recruiting minions who are actually loyal and not just scared out of their minds.

Which is one place Draco's speech that amuses me so came from. Because why *would* someone serve under that type of master? Especially someone ambitious and yet fond of the finer things in life?

I'd like to see a more beautiful, more treacherous type of evil, like the White Queen in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Anyhow, I did finish TTT and you know, just hate that, once again, in RotK, the action is so split.

I mean, what was JRRT thinking? What were his editors thinking? Why completely separate the two main strands of the plot? You've just had Frodo captured, and then bam! We're back with Pippin and Gandalf, and it takes a good 200 pages to get back to Frodo and Sam?

That's just not right.

Speaking of books, my mother is rereading one I'd been looking for - Lord Carew's Bride by Mary Balogh. I went out and bought The Counterfeit Coachman by Elisabeth Fairchild because I got the two confused. Not that I don't really like the latter, 'cause I do, but I was expecting it to be the former and it wasn't, and so I couldn't remember the name and had sort of given up hope, because really, "That one with the guy who's damaged somehow, and the evil cousin and the girl" - you could be discussing any of a thousand different Regency romances.

So I just found it amusing and serendipitous that she happened to have dug out the exact one I'd been looking for. So I reread it this afternoon.

It was just as good as I remembered it, though Balogh is a little too coy with the sex scenes.

And last, but certainly not least, even though he doesn't read this diary:

Happy Birthday, Jean!

~victoria



link

[current mood: lethargic]
[current music: Drift Away - Uncle Kracker]
[random quote: give me the beat boys to save my soul I wanna get lost in your rock'n'roll and just drift away]

~*~

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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

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