Beleg: Come on you can’t make everyone like you, you’re not Turin

Thingol: Not everyone likes Turin

Beleg: Who doesn’t like Turin?

Thingol: Nobody I just…

Beleg: WHO! I need names!!

Thingol:…

I love the whole concept that all the mortals by the late third age have this idea of elves as these serene, calm, wise and peaceful beings. Like at the council of Elrond and the like they all see the elves as inherently great givers of advice with the bigger picture at heart. Imagine if someone from then read a book on the first age. Like Faramir being exposed to Elrond’s records after he leaves for Valinor and thinking are these really the same species? Why are they setting everything on fire? Was the founder of Numenor really raised by these people? Did the calm lord Elrond really hold a knife to that guys throat? They are all completely feral and bloodthirsty and possess no basic judgement skills. Frodo getting to Valinor and being invited to a party at Finrod’s house. Expecting a deep cryptic discussion on lore and feeling out of place among all these dignified ethereal legends. And like ten minutes in people are playing drinking games with knives and fire. Frodo expects Lord Elrond to be shocked at his relatives behaviour but finds him in a knife throwing competition with the former high king. He seems to be winning. He also sees what seems to be two high kings making out in the stairwell. His last hope is Galadriel whose now in an intense bar fight with three of her cousins. Her husband is cheering her on from the corner.

The elves are not actually inherently wise. They just made all the mistakes and learnt from them after about the fifth attempt.

Beleg is literally the bad bitch Túrin pulled by being autistic

Saeros' sword jolted out of his hand and span off into the trees.

"Give him a spear!" The audience called, and Ithilbor smiled:

"My point exactly."

"I'd have less of a chance with a spear!" Saeros insisted, glaring at Beleg and his, in Saeros' opinion, lack of foresight.

"Same result. You're still dead, and you've had a lot more sword training than any of us will receive."

Ithilbor smiled and handed back the sword, which Saeros sheathed in favour of a practice sword.

"I'm happy to spar."

Parrying with the point of Beleg's sword right by his chin, Saeros had to dance to get out of the way and ready his response. He cut up to Beleg's left. He'd thought to narrate but there was no time for that. Already he was secretly wishing for his spear, but that was the exact opposite of the point they wanted to make.

So far Ithilbor was unimpressed. Of course Beleg was a fine swordsman: what mattered was how well Saeros held his own.

Ithilbor smiled and handed back the sword, which Saeros sheathed in favour of a practice sword.

"I'm happy to spar."

... "I'm definitely not saying thank you"

웃

Send me 웃 and my muse will describe yours in one sentence

"He's a bit grumpy, it's hard to miss, but's he's alright underneath it all."

-grump intensifies- "Blow my image and I'll cut your bowstring"

웃

Send me 웃 and my muse will describe yours in one sentence

"He's a bit grumpy, it's hard to miss, but's he's alright underneath it all."

// I’m -cough- ill and the drama between Cecily Neville’s sons is most of what’s keeping me going rn

Edward: word’s going around that I’m not our father’s son

Richard: well you’re not my father’s son-

Edward: and our dearest brother George even tried to usurp me! He’s dead now. I drowned him. Shakespeare will tell everyone you did that though

Richard: ...

Edward: the question is: are you loyal to me? Or do I need to find another barrel?

Richard: I’m loyal to you-

Edward: good.

Richard: -until you die. Then I’ll kill your sons

Edward: ... wait... 

"Ready."

Saeros waited for a moment before closing the gap between them and striking first. It was a different balance: fighting as one would in earnest whilst making sure both their moves could be followed. What had an audience of just Ithilbor, one other lord and two ladies had already grown to about two dozen onlookers. None of them had seen a sword fight before.

Ithilbor smiled and handed back the sword, which Saeros sheathed in favour of a practice sword.

"I'm happy to spar."

Listen I get what Turin means but it's also hilarious how it's basically

Ithilbor smiled and handed back the sword, which Saeros sheathed in favour of a practice sword.

"I'm happy to spar."

"I thought we had an agreement," Beleg complained, the practice sword in his hand, "Weapons for wine - come now, you got the wine, so come and practice. It really isn't that different."

"I made no such agreement," Ithilbor reminded him. The remaining practice swords were in a careful pile by the Green-elf's feet, and balanced on one finger was Saeros' sword. Ithilbor had wanted to handle the 'finished blade', and now looked like he was holding something beyond distasteful. Saeros was itching to take it back.

"My people use spears, javelins, and bows, and we are excellent at it," Ithilbor continued, addressing Beleg. "These swords are made differently, balanced differently. Tell me: how are we served better by learning to use them rather than practicing with our own weapons?"

//if anyone's interested in the War of the Roses may I recommend Bosworth 1485 by Michael Jones.

All histories are stories in the end but I like this one, because it looks at everyone as people in their context. And because he empahsises the fact that Cecily Neville and Margaret Beaufort were as astute and important as their sons (Richard III and Henry VII respectively).

"Please, would you demonstrate?" Ithilbor finally asked, handing the sword back after viewing it from every conceivable angle. "Let's compare your sword skills to how swift you are with a spear, Saeros*. Do you call yourself a swordsman before an archer, Beleg?"

"I thought we had an agreement," Beleg complained, the practice sword in his hand, "Weapons for wine - come now, you got the wine, so come and practice. It really isn't that different."

"I made no such agreement," Ithilbor reminded him. The remaining practice swords were in a careful pile by the Green-elf's feet, and balanced on one finger was Saeros' sword. Ithilbor had wanted to handle the 'finished blade', and now looked like he was holding something beyond distasteful. Saeros was itching to take it back.

"My people use spears, javelins, and bows, and we are excellent at it," Ithilbor continued, addressing Beleg. "These swords are made differently, balanced differently. Tell me: how are we served better by learning to use them rather than practicing with our own weapons?"

"I thought we had an agreement," Beleg complained, the practice sword in his hand, "Weapons for wine - come now, you got the wine, so come and practice. It really isn't that different."

"I made no such agreement," Ithilbor reminded him. The remaining practice swords were in a careful pile by the Green-elf's feet, and balanced on one finger was Saeros' sword. Ithilbor had wanted to handle the 'finished blade', and now looked like he was holding something beyond distasteful. Saeros was itching to take it back.

"My people use spears, javelins, and bows, and we are excellent at it," Ithilbor continued, addressing Beleg. "These swords are made differently, balanced differently. Tell me: how are we served better by learning to use them rather than practicing with our own weapons?"

Taken aback, Saeros laughed. He'd expected to be rebuked but Beleg was always on the people's side.

"Thank you then. Maybe they won't all have to just run for their lives. And if it is a care package could you send some of that very dark wine? My father is particularly fond."

He smiled, his expression as close to impish as it ever got. "And how do you feel now?"

thegreatstrongbow

“That would be for best, I fear. At least if they have warning, they will have time to make preparations.” Beleg’s jaw clenched as he thought of the King, reluctant to admit that he now thought he had been right not to send any soldiers. “I do not think there is anywhere the Enemy will not try to reach. Our defeat will have made them bolder.”

“Then they may as well stay!” Saeros turned to better look at Beleg. “If we’re all doomed, why run?” 

Saeros realised how little he knew of the battle. Who had fought, what had happened, how bad was the defeat? This had to be their end, bearing down on them, if Beleg was so shaken. Beleg looked a sorry sight. Half dead already: if Beleg weren’t so mournful Saeros would have told him so. 

“Despair doesn’t suit you,” he said instead. “If battle is coming here then we need to prepare. If Thingol will do nothing then we, his counsel, will have to.”

"Chestnuts", Marlies Jetses

Saeros waited, but nothing happened. Standing up he shook his head and muttered: "words. All of you. You jump into action maybe once in a decade, and then stand around talking otherwise!

"I can tell you that should yrch come through Arthórien now all my kinsfolk will die. They need metal weapons, metal armour, training on how to fight with them. I can't do that; I don't know half of it either. All I can tell them is our flint and leather are useless.

"So, will you do anything? Quieten the ghosts by trying to stop more in the future."

thegreatstrongbow

“That would be for best, I fear. At least if they have warning, they will have time to make preparations.” Beleg’s jaw clenched as he thought of the King, reluctant to admit that he now thought he had been right not to send any soldiers. “I do not think there is anywhere the Enemy will not try to reach. Our defeat will have made them bolder.”

“Then they may as well stay!” Saeros turned to better look at Beleg. “If we’re all doomed, why run?” 

Saeros realised how little he knew of the battle. Who had fought, what had happened, how bad was the defeat? This had to be their end, bearing down on them, if Beleg was so shaken. Beleg looked a sorry sight. Half dead already: if Beleg weren’t so mournful Saeros would have told him so. 

“Despair doesn’t suit you,” he said instead. “If battle is coming here then we need to prepare. If Thingol will do nothing then we, his counsel, will have to.”