shiresuggest
Tokien Is Inherantly Queer Fiction
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the villagers: OH MY GOD GET OUT OF HERE ITS A DRAGON ATTACK HES BURNING DOWN THE WHOLE VILLAGE
me noticing the "dragon" actually only has 2 hind legs instead of 4 legs: thats actually a w-
*flames engulf me completely*
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Rivendell:
Frodo in The House of Healing and Bilbo in the Hall of Fire ♥
(I prefer drawing landscapes over interiors ...but I wanted to give it a try *_* )
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The first tower her mother put her in was three steps tall. The princess, two years old, made it down safely on her own.
As she grew and learned, the towers got taller, the locks and traps more elaborate.
"I want you to know," the Queen said, "that you can always come back home."
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After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.
Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.
The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.
Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.
This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.
"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.
"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.
This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.
Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.
"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."
And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.
Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.
Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.
On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.
As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.
Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.
She always had been a wizard with silk.
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“blue hair” this, “pronouns” that. find someone with flowing silver hair and spells
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he’s forgotten what he was going to ask
but when faced with a sweaty, post-training thorin, who can blame him 😅
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All the heirs are doing their best to avoid inheriting the utter mess that is the kingdom.
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He built this from pebbles.
via fairy witch cottagecore vibes
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