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rhodrymavelyneI’ve never written much fanfiction in Middle-Earth. Strange. I’ve had plenty of flights of fanciful fandom in this place. I’ve visualized Sam’s renuion with Frodo beyond the sea. I’ve speculated about the adventures of Belladonna Took and her sisters. The dark musings of the wraiths who came close to claiming Frodo, only to have him slip through their fingers have slid into my imagination. How is a ringwraith like a barrow wight? Both are bound beyond death to a particular treasure which keeps them lingering as a malevolent spirit?
Love of treasure versus love for green and growing things is a particular theme running through Tolkien’s books. Hobbits are often the ones who bring other people to their senss when they’ve been maddened by treasure, but hobbits aren’t immune to treasure’s allure. Possessing one and losing it takes its toll.
Much as I adore these stories, they make me a little sad. The toll treasures take and the fading of the world resonate with me in a way that made me a little too melancholy. This may be one of the reasons why I seldom play with fanfiction in Middle-Earth.
My own awe of Tolkien may be another. I’m a little shy about telling tales in his world, even if there’s many a tale to be told. Some of the reactions I’ve had to Peter Jackson’s beautiful movies have already been written by Tolkien himself. Like Faramir meeting Aragorn. Or Saruman confronting Frodo.
Seeeing Peter Jackson’s own take on Tolkien’s stories makes me think about those scenes in the conext of those films.
I imagine Faramir seeing a light, his brother’s greeves, only to see Aragon’s hand reaching for him. To have a moment of acknowledging him as the true king. Only it’s tied up with Boromir, tied up with conversations which weren’t in the book.
I image Saruman coming to Frodo as a ghost while Frodo stands contemplating the finished book he and Bilbo have almost completed. The wizard shows him mock concern, tells him Sauron is nothing but a mean thing with a little power in the world (something Gandalf himself says in Return of the King). The only place Sauron and the Ring can live on is in Frodo’s heart and Frodo’s wounds.
“You may have saved the Shire,” the spectre taunts, “but it will never be yours.”
Frodo winces, only to be brought back by Sam’s voice. Hearing Sam call him back is the answer. Sam has the Shire. It’s enough.
They’re small scenes, the fanfic ideas which come to me. Perhaps there’s a place for them after all.
Love of treasure versus love for green and growing things is a particular theme running through Tolkien’s books. Hobbits are often the ones who bring other people to their senss when they’ve been maddened by treasure, but hobbits aren’t immune to treasure’s allure. Possessing one and losing it takes its toll.
Much as I adore these stories, they make me a little sad. The toll treasures take and the fading of the world resonate with me in a way that made me a little too melancholy. This may be one of the reasons why I seldom play with fanfiction in Middle-Earth.
My own awe of Tolkien may be another. I’m a little shy about telling tales in his world, even if there’s many a tale to be told. Some of the reactions I’ve had to Peter Jackson’s beautiful movies have already been written by Tolkien himself. Like Faramir meeting Aragorn. Or Saruman confronting Frodo.
Seeeing Peter Jackson’s own take on Tolkien’s stories makes me think about those scenes in the conext of those films.
I imagine Faramir seeing a light, his brother’s greeves, only to see Aragon’s hand reaching for him. To have a moment of acknowledging him as the true king. Only it’s tied up with Boromir, tied up with conversations which weren’t in the book.
I image Saruman coming to Frodo as a ghost while Frodo stands contemplating the finished book he and Bilbo have almost completed. The wizard shows him mock concern, tells him Sauron is nothing but a mean thing with a little power in the world (something Gandalf himself says in Return of the King). The only place Sauron and the Ring can live on is in Frodo’s heart and Frodo’s wounds.
“You may have saved the Shire,” the spectre taunts, “but it will never be yours.”
Frodo winces, only to be brought back by Sam’s voice. Hearing Sam call him back is the answer. Sam has the Shire. It’s enough.
They’re small scenes, the fanfic ideas which come to me. Perhaps there’s a place for them after all.
