For anyone who cares, I have finally decided to start a Facebook page. You can visit, like and share the page at the link below (or don’t, I’m not bothered what you do):
In honour of my swanky new page, I’ve decided to update a few of my more popular posts, starting with my Lord of the Rings route map. This post was the first one to really take off when I posted it nearly 4 years ago. Thank you to everyone who liked and shared it and followed me since I started this Tumblr page back in 2012.
…and if you want to see the original route map, you can still see it below:
When I first found about Turner Mohan (my previous posts about him are here), I was just over one of those periods of binge-reading the Silmarillion and imagining the extraordinary world created by J. R. R. Tolkien. And I couldn’t believe what I found.
In his huge Deviantart gallery, Turner Mohan gives extensive descriptions about each of his sketches. He puts a lot of effort in analyzing in a very logical and historical way why the peoples and races of Arda look like that, produce those clothings, live in those architectures. Not only he is a talented artist, not only he has an impressively deep knowledge of Tolkenian lore, but even more he is a kind of fantasy anthropologist. Some examples (taken from the link) are below:
(Maybe I love his art so much because we imagined things in a similar way, so it’s like he draws almost exactly as I thought, for example with the first elves being similar to native americans, and eaarly orcs similar to primitive men.)
his description:
In the Lord of the Rings, the elves are presented almost across the board as these saintly, somewhat removed beings. They are ‘the Wise,“ stewards of the World and advisors to the younger races, their words giving hope to our mortal heroes in their darkest hours. They are getting ready to depart forever for the West, and hand over the world they have loved and fought for for countless millennia to mankind, and one senses that this last battle against the evil of Sauron is for them a tying up of theological loose ends, before they leave men to inherit the Earth. To those previously familiar only with LOTR and 'the Hobbit,’ it is perhaps the greatest surprise of 'the Silmarillion’ and the rest of Tolkien’s posthumously released work to see the elves presented as "young;” proud, impetuous, dynamic beings who act on impulse, who can be jealous, manipulative, abusive, evil. With none is this more apparent than with Feanor and his sons, and I don’t think it’s any mistake that they are particular favorites of fans and fan-artitsts. In them we get to see the (what would have to be) tremendous, really super-human, pride and contempt of these immortal beings, aware of their role as “princes” in a world ordained for them by their Creator and possessive of their status as the “firstborn” in the face of emerging humanity. With Celegorm and Curufin, antagonists to the first-ever human/elven coupling of Beren and Luthien, we really get to see this up close; Celegorm’s self absorbed, un-feeling “love” for Luthien, and Curufin’s stewing, murderous indignation after his humiliation at Beren’s hands. Their driving emotions follow patterns of romantic jealousy and prejudice that are all too familiar and, really, all too “human.” Coming from the bottomless wisdom and kindness of figures like Elrond or Galadriel, well, its a surprise, and something of a shot in the arm for the creatures in whom Tolkien invested the greatest part of his love and creative energy, but who often come off in his best known works as just little anemic.
A note on design: the garments for these two have a little bit of everything in them, Greek, Egyptian, Indian, Germanic, Japanese, Elizabethan, Native American, even a bit of 1700’s “georgian” styles. I’m increasingly attracted to the idea of the elves, in their material culture, as pan-cultural, or more like proto-(human)-cultural; they were, in themselves and in the things they made, these beings of beauty and natural artistry “beyond the measure of men” that mankind remembers from our mythic prehistory, and who all human cultures through our long history have sought, unconsciously, to recall through our arts and mythos.
And a note on Celegorm’s hair: as a son of Feanor and Nerdanel, yes it was almost certainly Tolkien’s intent for Celegorm to be dark-haired. I expect his descriptor 'the fair’ (“fair” being used in antiquated English and often by Tolkien to mean both beautiful and/or light-colored) has been the major cause of the popular imagining of the character as a blond but, well, the image works, it sets him so perfectly as the classic, gleaming prince opposite gritty, human Beren. I’ve entertained the idea (and may get to one day show it in a colored image) of celegorm as nearly sheet white (and white, rather than golden, haired) perhaps the product of a kind of elven Albinism, regarded by them (as it likely was by much of ancient humanity) as not a defect but this rare and kind of awe-striking anomaly.
his description:
“But of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Melkor little is known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pits of Utumno, or has explored the darkness of the counsels of Melkor? Yet this is held true by the wise of Eressëa, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards the bitterest foes. For the Orcs had life and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Ilúvatar; and naught that had life of its own, nor the semblance of life, could ever Melkor make since his rebellion in the Ainulindalë before the Beginning: so say the wise. And deep in their dark hearts the Orcs loathed the Master whom they served in fear, the maker only of their misery. This it may be was the vilest deed of Melkor, and the most hateful to Ilúvatar.”
The Silmarillion, chapter 3 “of the coming of the elves and the captivity of melkor”
Orcs fascinate me; the perpetual foot soldiers of Evil, inherently cruel, nasty creatures that are ultimately the end result of horrendous, deforming torture, both in origin as a species, and, I would imagine, on an individual level by the cruel, brutal nature of their societies. Do orcs love their children? Their parents? Are they capable of having friends even amongst their own kind? All questions that Tolkien leaves largely, frustratingly, unanswered; nowhere in either his books or in the jackson films do we ever get to see orcs as anything other than these horrible all-purpose antagonists, fighting, growling, and just being generally unpleasant, but I would think, just like humans or any other type of creature, that the vast majority of their actual day-to-day existence is spent just kind of getting through life; breathing, eating, sleeping, shitting, having sex where they can get it, sitting still, walking around, letting their minds wander. who knows where those minds go? if they sometimes, in a quiet moment, rise out of the squalid meanness that seems to be their psychological fallback position?
Physically i wanted these to have the feel of debased, devolved creatures; their bones and muscles bent and warped away from the greek perfection of their elvish progenitors. tolkien’s world doesn’t seem to operate by evolution - both humanity and all other living things in middle-earth simply springing to life, garden-of-eden style, more or less fully formed - but the orcs (and other evil humanoid creatures like trolls/giants) seem a good opportunity to draw from a lot of the physical traits of pre-humans, or of our cousins in the ape and monkey families, to give them the feel of having basically evolved backwards. There is strong and, to me, very convincing theory that a lot of the mythology of trolls and goblins and such are a leftover from early-modern man’s interactions with the then-dwindling race of neaderthals, and certainly this seems to have influenced the physical portrayal of fairy tale monsters throughout history, right up to the classic illustrations of John Bauer and Arthur Rackham, and i wanted to keep these in that fairy tale goblin tradition, while taking them through perhaps a more serious, conscious biological lense; weather-beaten faces and bodies, long arms and torsos, short bow legs, bunched, narrow shoulders, crooked necks, big hands and feet, prehensile toes, rough, feral body hair distribution.
The court began buzzing with delight with news of Lúthien’s return. Iarûr was the only one among us whose demeanor remained solemn. When I had the opportunity later in the evening, I found him in his chambers alone at his writing table. I entered cautiously through is opened door.
“Pleas come in, Orothôn,” he said without looking up form his work.
“I am not interrupting your work,” I asked.
“No,” he said looking up. “There was no work to be done this hour. I was putting my thoughts down for my own remembrance of this day.”
“It is this day I wished to speak to you about,” I said.
“I know,” he sewered. “You are quite perceptive. If you thought the news of this day troubled me, then you were correct.”
“It is wonderful news,” I said. “The return of the king’s daughter will make this kingdom whole once more.”
“You are naive in your optimism,” Iarûr said sternly. “It will serve you well on the darkest night but in the light of day, you must acknowledge reality.”
“I do not understand.”
“N one returns from Angband as they entered,” he said softly. “I can only imagine the horrors of the Lady Lúthien must have seen. No one can witness such evil without losing part of themselves.”
“The king will be happy once more,” I said almost pleading with him.
“Yes, he will,” he agreed. “But it will be short-lived, Orothôn. I am afraid this world will never be the same again. It is changing, my friend. The elements of good and evil have intermingled creating seasons not so easily discernible.”
I could say nothing—I just stood there thinking about those words as they seared a hole in my heart. Now I feared what may come to us upon the return of Lúthien and Beren.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-06-2020
The discussion was long since forgotten as time became routine once more. Life took on a malignant monotony that was tenuous at best. I knew the world was changing beyond the borders of Menegroth—Oropher would speak of it whenever he had the mind to wander near them to see for himself. As duty remained my shadow while I worked in the library, curiosity became the obligation of the younger generations.
It seemed all but King Thingol feared the loss of Lúthien, though his grief in her absence was felt throughout Menegroth. Iarûr would tell us often how fragile his emotions had become even as he attempted to appear as the mighty king he was before. Mîrwen would tell me how stoic queen Melian remained—her thoughts as distant as the stars. Whatever ancient wisdom or prophecy she knew, she kept to herself.
One day, while the ladies of the court were called to attend to Galadriel, I decided to leave the library with Súlwë for a short stroll outside. It seemed ages since we had seen the sun. The dimly lit caverns had started to remind me of the time before the rising of the Daystar.
It was a clear day—neither warm nor cool. The air was crisp but the wind still as we crossed the bridge.
“How is Galadriel,” I asked.
“From what Celeborn has told me, she is quite well,” Súlwë answered. “But I doubt either of us truly know what it is like to be with child.”
“Mîrwen says she is due any day,” I added.
“I hope so for Celeborn’s sake. His expression has been one of panic as of late.”
“How can you tell,” I asked teasingly.
Súlwë laughed softly.
“Let us hope this elfling brings some joy to Menegroth,” he said. “It is much needed.”
“Yes, it is,” I answered. “It is far too dark for the First-Born these days.”
“Darkness is everywhere, Orothôn,” he began. “I came from light that was dimmed by the very heart of that darkness. It shall linger far longer than our time.”
“Then perhaps this elfling will be a respite from it,” I whispered.
We walked in silence for a time—listening to the sounds of nature. Upon our return, we were met on the bridge by Finëar and Saeros.
“Orothôn,” Finëar said, his voice winded from running. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“For me,” I asked.
“You are part of the royal family, are you not,” Saeros asked.
“What is it,” I asked, gruffly.
“The Lady Galadriel has given birth to a daughter,” Finëar said. “Go on, now. Oropher has your place.”
Súlwë nodded and I took my leave into Menegroth. Once inside, Êlengolas was waiting.
“You are late,” he said.
“How can one be late for something that has no timetable,” I asked as we began walking toward our destination.
“We are Eldar,” he said. “We know everything.”
“We are male,” I added. “You must have us confused with the elleth.”
“I do not know about you, Orothôn, but I am married to one that cannot help but speak and I am compelled to listen.”
It was not long before we stood before two doors that was opened for us. I entered to see Galadriel lying in bed surrounded by the ladies of the court beside Queen Melian. I bowed to the Queen as Celeborn approached holding a tiny bundle with soft golden hair upon the whitest of skin.
“Is she not beautiful, Orothôn,” he asked beaming.
“Yes,” I said. “What do you call her?”
“Celebrían,” he said as his new daughter cooed.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful elfling,” I started. “What has the king said of her?”
“He has not seen her,” he said.
“Not seen her,” I asked. “I was told I was late.”
“He did not come,” Celeborn whispered. “Perhaps the birth of a daughter is too painful for him.”
In that moment, the doors opened again. It was King Thingol with Cúthalion and Mablung beside with Daeron and Saeros close behind.
“Your Majesty,” Celeborn and I said together.
“Is this the elfling born to Galadriel,” Thingol asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Celeborn answered.
The king looked upon the child as she opened her eyes. A slight smile came across his face.
“She is beautiful,” he said. “What is her name?”
“Celebrían, Your Majesty,” Celeborn answered again.
“Fitting name,” Thingol began. “You and your wife have my warmest congratulations on the birth of your daughter. Melian, a word if I may.”
We bowed as the Queen walked across the room and left with her husband and his guard. Celebrían began to cry as Celeborn returned her to Galadriel. The room itself seemed to sigh in relief after King Thingol left. Oropher come to me from is place beside the other princes.
“We did not think he would come,” he whispered to me.
“Is that what the Queen said,” I asked.
“No, Iarûr.”
“He spoke with him prior?”
“Not that I am aware,” Oropher began. “But Angband has awakened once more.”
“Angband?”
“Something has brought it to life,” he said. “What is the question.”
I was afraid to know and knew better not to speculate. The day was good and I wanted it to remain as such.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 02-23-2020
Happy Birthday, Lee Pace! Welcome to another Messed Up Friday! Finally do his Met Gala suit. I have no fashion taste, all I want is boobs and legs. Sorry.
P.s. god knows where’s the cute wholesome family friendly fan artist has gone. From Thranduil taking care of baby Legolas to this…..insane
Size:A4 Medium: Water colours, Inktense, Coloured Ink Series: The Hobbit (Movies) Character: Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly)
Don’t Repost, Trace, Recolor or change this drawing in any way without permission. Please also rate the drawing on Pixiv. Alternative on DeviantArt.
All Likes and Reblogs are welcome and very much appreciated ♡
I have to announce that I personally like Tauriel a lot. I like her in a very “original characters” way since she’s not really a character by Tolkien. However, I think it was good how Peter Jackson put in a stronger female character, since the female part of Middle Earth is quite passive. Of course Tauriel was partly written poorly and many think she’s only there for an unnecessary love-triangle. Yes, maybe she has that role - partly, but she means a lot to me, because I really didn’t recognize the conversations with Kili as flirting… whoops. And yes I like the Kiliel-ship kind of. If it ends in a tragic way like this, I can accept it with pleasure. So… whatever, I just felt like drawing her and I tried to let her look like the beautiful actress Evangeline Lilly. I don’t know if it still shows because I’m not that good at portraiting yet - especially not with water colours and such :)
If you would like to commission me, click the Commission Info
