nineveh_uk: Illustration that looks like Harriet Vane (Harriet)
It was in the year 2509 of the Third Age, in the region of ----shire, that the party of Lady Celebrían, making a long overdue visit to her parents, was waylaid by orcs.

It was not fear of such an encounter that was responsible for the delay in paying this most natural duty. Orcs had not been known in the neighbourhood for many years, and had their return to the region been known the party would have elected to travel by the Pass of Rohan, no matter the greater distance. Rather the lady's children had reached the difficult age of the late second millenium when an elf is most in need of guidance from a mother. The presence in Rivendell of their distant cousins the Dunedain had made this guidance particularly essential. None knew more than the daughter of the Lady Galadriel the importance of harmonious relations between kin, and Celebrían had sincerely welcomed the many greats grandchildren of her brother-in-law to her home. But there were limits to how close a connection should be considered, and no count of generations could undo the fact that the children of Elrond and the Line of Elendil were first cousins. It would not do.
nineveh_uk: Illustration that looks like Harriet Vane (Harriet)
It was in the year ---- of the Third Age, in the region of Eregion-shire, that Lady Celebrian, engaged on a long overdue journey to visit her parents, was waylaid by orcs.
nineveh_uk: picture of holly in snow (holly)
I am home, if not unpacked, after a very easy journey that culminated with my opening the door into the cold, dark house to discover that I’d accidentally left the heating on. At least this allows me to be annoyed with myself in the warm, and the orchid now has 12 buds on its flower spike (this is one I bought while flowering, and that I have actually managed to look after and is now flowering again. Unlike all the previous orchids I have possessed.)

Christmas/New Year was great, in a busy way. I have eaten and drunk a good deal, had some very nice presents, enjoyed the company of my family, seen The Hobbit: III*, had a couple of good walks, really good weather, and didn’t catch the vomiting bug from my sister. My mother did apologise that had we been spending Christmas in Leeds we would have had Anything Goes in Sheffield and White Christmas in Leeds,** plus your actual snow, whereas we didn’t get to the theatre and the only snow I saw was from the top of Arthur’s Seat. But you can’t have everything. I am severely out of date on Yuletide and LJ, but will catch up – if not tomorrow, as I think I’m now going to London.

I have kept up with the papers, though, which means that if you haven’t seen the video of BBC reporter Quentin Sommerville attempting to deliver a report from in front of a bonfire of drugs, I recommend it to you. If you think you’ve seen this story before, then you’re right that this is a case of life imitating art. There’s remarkably similar scene in Drop the Dead Donkey.

*I enjoyed it more than I’d anticipated. It probably helps that I rather like Jackson/Lee Pace’s interpretation of Thranduil as an elf-lord in a permanent state of eye-rolling and thinking “why am I surrounded by morons?” Also, Jackson is good at battles. Still plenty of WTF moments, but as I care less about The Hobbit, nothing to match Denethor and the Symbolic Tomatoes.

**Not the London one. This one is actually good.
nineveh_uk: Illustration that looks like Harriet Vane (Harriet)
Inspired by the student on the path in front of me this morning, whose collection of garments were individually interesting, but could in no age under the sun be called an outfit. Change only a couple of words and it fits surprisingly well...

***

He signed to one of his guards, and he came forward bearing a bundle wrapped in black cloths.

The Messenger put these aside, and there to the wonder and dismay of all the Captains, he held up first the short sword that Sam had carried, and next a grey cloak with an elven-brooch, and last the coat of mithril-mail that Frodo had worn wrapped in his tattered garments. A blackness came before their eyes, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that their world stood still, but their hearts were dead and their last hope gone.

'Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West, here are the marks of a fashion victim.'

No-one answered him; but he saw their faces grey with fear and the horror in their eyes.
nineveh_uk: Illustration that looks like Harriet Vane (Harriet)
Brought to you by my inability to take the coach from Oxford to London without thinking at a key point of the journey, "I have seen the White City".

(1) White City

(i) In which our noble hero, long exiled in Salford, returns to claim his kingdom.

(ii) As above, the Peter Jackson version. The hero is Lord Attenborough, son of Attenborough. Many years ago, he fled the offer of the post of Director-General and instead became a Ranger, travelling far across the world from his base in Bristol, learning the secrets of many lands and strange creatures. Now, in the BBC's darkest hour, his destiny can no longer be evaded and he must make his way to London.

(2) Lady of Twilight

When the elves called Elrond 'Half-elven' they avoided specifying the nature of his other half...

When 20 year old Ranger Estel returns to Rivendell after accomplishing great deeds, the great elf-lord Elrond tells him of his true name and heritage. Proud of his new-found lineage and destiny, when Aragorn meets the pale, dark-haired elf-lady Arwen he is captivated by her beauty. When Arwen and her father Elrond respond coldly to his hopes, Aragorn assumes that they scorn him as a mortal, and vows to prove himself worthy. Little does he dream that the woman the elves call the Lady of Twilight has good reason for her coldness - for the vampire blood of Luthien runs strong in Arwen Undomiel.

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