I saw the Hobbit and the Five Armies this evening, and it begins with the attack of a dragon. The story revolves around Thorin, the son of Thor. I was married to Mary Ann Tharaldsen, a descendant of Thor. Wensel Braskewitx ‘Son of Ambrose’ came from Bohemia, now the Czech Republic, where there is a ancient legend about the Sleeping Knights under White Mountain. There was a famous battle of White Mountain, and the King and Queen of Bohemia fled to Britain where they died. Tolkien was in love with the story of Albion and Rosamund.
Strider is a Ranger, or, Rover. I used to dress like him. My last post was prophetic, it posted several hours before I was the latest Tolkien story that continues after his death.
The King under the Mountain, also called the King of Erebor, is the title of the Dwarven ruler who resides at the Lonely Mountain of Erebor. The King under the Mountain was also by right the King of Durin’s Folk.
“As a token of her confidence, she told him he need no longer call
her, “Auntie.” The previous year, Bilbo had suggested that Frodo no
longer address him as, “Uncle,” if he wished. Plain, “Bilbo,” would
do. Frodo still called Bilbo, “Uncle,” now and then; it had become
too ingrained a habit. But, following suit, Rosamunda suggested Frodo
might call her, “Rosa,” or, “Rosamunda.” Frodo forgot, and called
her, “Auntie,” many times, but, within the space of an afternoon
tea, “Rosa,” she became.”
Rosamunda Bolger (née Took) was the mother of Fredegar “Fatty” Bolger
and Estella Brandybuck. She was married to Odovacar Bolger and was
known as Rosamunda Took prior to the marriage. They lived in
Budgeford in Bridgefields in the Eastfarthing of the Shire. Rosamunda
and Odovacar both attended the Bilbo’s Farewell Party in 3001 along
with their children.
The last of Czech old legends, that one about the knights of Blaník, was first told to king Charles by a blind man.
There is a hill Blaník, which is situated in a dark forest. It looks down gloomily on a landscape, which is far away from the world, on its plains, that are not much fruitful. On the top of the hill Blaník there are old stones and mostly ruined walls in shadows of spruces, beeches and firs. There used to be a castle, but it disappeared without any trace.
Under the walls, in the hill, there are armed knights, “Saint Wenceslas´s Army”, and they are waiting for a day, when the Czech nation needs their help.
Under the stone peak of Blaník, in eastern slope there is a rock. There is the entrance to the hill, and there is a spring. Knights in Blaník give water from this spring to their horses, when they go out from Blaník at night in the moonlight. At night like this one dark rumble resounds to the surroundings. In the morning, there is silence again, and knights, their horses, everything goes again into the hill. Only one memory will stay there – prints of hoofs.
On day a girl was standing in front of Blaník, and suddenly, one knight appeared in front of her. He told her, if she wanted to go with him to clean in the hill. She went with him. There was deep silence. By the walls there were horses, and at a table there were knights. They were sleeping. The girl went in, and she looked round, but nobody moved. She started to sweep the floor. She cleaned everything in a moment. Then she went home, and when she arrived, people asked her, where she had been for such a long time. She was surprised, so she told them that, she arrived at the same time as usually. Then they told her that she had been here one year ago. She told them, where she had been and all people knew why the time had been so long.
Fredegar “Fatty” Bolger
Norman Cates as Fatty Bolger from a Decipher Card designed by Weta
Friend of Frodo Baggins. Fredegar Bolger, called Fatty, was born in
2980 to Odovacar Bolger and Rosamunda Took Bolger. He had a sister
Estella who married Merry Brandybuck. Fatty’s great-great-grandfather
on his mother’s side was Gerontius, the Old Took, who was also the
great-great-grandfather of Merry and of Pippin Took. Fatty’s family
was from Budgeford in Bridgefields in the Eastfarthing.
“From first sight, even the site of the new cottage had enchanted
her, dug as it was into the southeast side of a grassy hill in the
midst of Boffin lands, populated with Boffin sheep. There was a
little copse below it, just to the side, and a spring-fed well, all
of which reminded her of her childhood home. The place had come down
to Odovacar through his mother’s side, a Boffin. He had used it as
asort of base, when he and his friends had gone out hunting.
Theywould stock the little hole with gear and rations. Then, with
their bows, and a pony for their gear, they would make forays west
or north, towards the Downs or up to the Moors, or, closer still,
into Bindbale Wood. But that was years ago, when the game had not
yet moved so far off. When Rosamunda had viewed it more carefully,
she saw the hole was inconsiderable disrepair. Also, it was a bit
too small. She had new rooms dug, so that there was a parlour and a
kitchen, a bedroom for each (and one to spare), along with extra
chambers further back for store. When it was finished, it suited
Rosamunda very well. Especially, she loved the light. Situated
facing south-east, the light poured through the windows in the
mornings, her favourite time of the day. And, when she stood
outside, she could see the land stretching east and south far into
the distance. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun, the prospect was
especially fine. From the top of the little knoll that made the
cottage’s roof, she could see far to the northand west, where sheep
dotted the rolling hills. The sky at night took her breath away. And,
all day, the birds sang, the wind blew, and the Water, which ran
nearby, just to the west, mostly narrow and quick as it came down out
of Long Cleeve and Needle hole, could just be heard when the wind
dropped and everything was still. She loved its peace and quiet, so
tucked away and so private. Yet,it was just an hour’s walk over the
hills to Bag End or to Hobbiton. Overhill, to the east, was even
closer. Every fine day Rosamunda walked the hills, seldom seeing
another living creature other than sheep, or, very rarely, a doe or
faun. She did not walk south to Hobbiton, however, except on errands
or for an appointed visit. She had not forgotten
her “understanding”with Bilbo. And Bilbo did not forget her, either.
Regularly, he sent her gifts of wine or ham or fruit in season, as
tokens of his neighbourly regard. She appreciated the way he could
show marks of particular notice, without making her feel the burden
…and Oswin told his son the tale of Alboin son of Audoin, the Lombard king; and of the great battle of the Lombards and the Gepids, remembered as terrible even in the grim sixth century; and of the kings Thurisind and Cunimund, and of Rosamunda. ‘Not a good story for near bed-time,’ he said, ending suddenly with Alboin’s drinking from the jewelled skull of Cunimund…
—J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lost Road
“Once Tharaldsen painted a man with massive teeth devouring a burger, which she titled Bottomless, Unfillable Nothingness. Pynchon thought it was him, and hated it. Tharaldsen insists it wasn’t, but their friend Mary Beal isn’t so sure. “I know she regarded him as devouring people. I think in the sense that he—well, I shouldn’t say this, because all writers do it. Writers use people.”