It's OK, not a huge spoiler (anything character-development relative would be a huge spoiler, for future reference) and I managed to restrain myself to noclicky.
Right now, I am managing to not help myself at all by listening to the soundtrack; Aragorn is charging the Black Gate and I'm shivering, here.
And here we discover the dangers and the safety of distance: As you are on the other side of the planet from me, you have no way of gauging that I am currently very likely to be PMSing (*) and am dangerous to spring that sort of stuff on, but as you are on the other side of the planet from me, I cannot pelt you in retaliation with the weird-tasting raisins of this weird-snack pack I have here (**, ***).
But do tell. Because it explains how her hair always flutters in the wind, so much so that she seems to generate her own wind aura for her hair to flutter in...
(Dude, _50 minutes_?)
This meandering note brought to you by Silmaril has no body chemistry balance and two deadlines tomorrow foundation. Whee.
(*): "Very likely", as in the correct time for it, but I don't remember getting such an emotional upheaval before, so I might be going through hormonal evolution. I'm told that things change with age, and this is one change I wouldn't welcome at all.
(**) Note to self: Brand names exist for a reason. Especially re: buying stuff from side-of-the-highway-in-small-town non-chain convenience stores. Another lesson learned.
(***) If I e-mailed reynardo and asked very nicely, would she throw some raisins at you on my behalf?
Eowyn goes to Gandalf, asking him to teach her a love spell she can cast on Aragorn. He gives her the "magic is a dangerous thing, you don't know what you're asking" lecture, in which Jackson incidentally explains to the audience why it is that Gandalf doesn't just fireball the orcish hordes willy-nilly.
She still wants the love potion, so he reluctantly agrees to teach her magic - he's learnt from the business with Pippin and the palantir that if he says no, she'll probably get herself into trouble. He tries to do the old 'Wizard of Oz' trick, using placebo 'spells' to boost her self-confidence - a "beauty charm" that's really just an extra-body shampoo, that sort of thing.
But she finds him out, steals his spellbook one night, and copies out the formula for a love potion. It has to be given in several doses, over several days; she manages to hide the first dose in Aragorn's soup, but just as she's set to give him the last one in the House of the Healers, Gimli stumbles over a corpse and sends things flying. Faramir ends up getting the potion instead, and Eowyn realises what an awful thing she's done - trying to make somebody love her against their will. She goes to Gandalf to apologise, and he tells her to follow her conscience... and she realises that she rather does like Faramir after all.
That bit takes about fifteen minutes, all in all. Another ten minutes are devoted to all the Elvish singing that had to be cut from the book, and the other twenty-five is something that Jackson's said "will finally appease the slashfic writers who've been nagging me for the last three years".
(And yes, reynardo probably wouldn't take very much persuading.)
Hmmm. Innnnnnteresting. Although does explain the taste of the soup at the Rohirrim camp nicely. Poor Aragorn...
Yay, singing! So do we finally get to find out what Orlando Bloom's voice sounds like as well? I mean, Boyd and Mortensen aren't half bad...
The last 25 minutes can be either of two scenes from wedding nights, so I don't consider that a spoiler. It'll either be the R-rated "look, it's Arwen there, not Legolas, bite us," or the R-rated "look, it's Rosie there, not Frodo, bite us." Of course, it might be a montage of both, with some Galadriel/Celeborn scenes from their second honeymoon aboard the Grey Ship thrown in.
(If your brain is seared, I did warn you that I am imbalanced today/night. Wait. This is you we're talking about. Your brain would probably not be seared; mine is, at the moment, past searing.)
(Yes, I did purposefully "misunderstand" the word "appease". There are some things that are not past searing my brain still, on second thought.)
(This wasn't an invitation to explore those avenues more. You already graduated to weird-tasting peanuts from weird-tasting raisins for pelting purposes, for writing what amounts to Tolkien fanfiction with the spellbook bit, and I think Tolkien fanfiction is blasphemy. Don't shoot for the weird-tasting cashews.)
Yay, singing! So do we finally get to find out what Orlando Bloom's voice sounds like as well?
Yes, but that's in the last twenty-five minutes.
You already graduated to weird-tasting peanuts from weird-tasting raisins for pelting purposes, for writing what amounts to Tolkien fanfiction with the spellbook bit, and I think Tolkien fanfiction is blasphemy.
Remember, you're talking to one-half of the team who brought the world "John Norman's Babylon 5". I have no shame.
Use your strike tags and love your strike tags, folks, because as demonstrated in the example above, they can be all that stands between you and the Flamethrowers of Doom. Not to mention the Pecans of Doom.
(You said Elvish singing. What was I supposed to think?.... no, don't answer that. Please don't answer that. For the love of all that's holy---that won't work---unholy, don't answer that.)
They, however, cannot stand against the Raisins and Peanuts of Doom. Now, where had I put reynardo's e-mail? Or I can just point her to this thread...
As a matter of fact, I think I'll point everyone to this thread. If that still feels like a good idea tomorrow morning, with brain in a little-less-fried configuration.
(As to B5, I am unfamiliar with even the original source material. Which is, everyone from turnberryknkn on downwards reassures me, an intolerable ignorance. But at the moment I am actually happy with it, likewise with not knowing who/what John Norman is---ignorance can be all that stands between me and the trigger of the Flamethrower of Doom, after all.)
(I must be not as short-tempered as I think, because after all this I still feel the need to point out that I keep on liking you. You may live awhile longer, especially as you have, paradoxically, been contributing to my sanity remaining intact through the night with this conversation. Yay for 14 hour time differences, and I never thought I'd say that.)
Funnily enough, I've seen less than one episode's worth of B5 (I understand it's good, I just don't get around to watching TV as often as I ought). But the blessed thing about horrific pairings is that you don't *have* to know much about them - only enough to judge how wrong they'll seem to somebody more familiar with the original :-)
As for John Norman... that's a separate post, I think.
*nod* Exactly the point: to be something simultaneously so startling and so disturbing as to be difficult to ignore even by accident. Fortunately a house safeword doesn't need to get used often.
Hmm. Trying to decide whether I dare educate you regarding Gor. (I might still have the first few books in the basement somewhere.) Probably not. This way I get to maintain my innocent image of you. I also still haven't worked up the nerve to tell Debbie Ohi my jalapeno story, either. (Why no, you're right, you don't want to know.)
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-29 07:23 pm (UTC)(Last night at dinner
no subject
Date: 2004-09-29 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 08:13 am (UTC)Right now, I am managing to not help myself at all by listening to the soundtrack; Aragorn is charging the Black Gate and I'm shivering, here.
Aaaanyway. Think little fluffy bunnies, Silmaril.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 04:11 pm (UTC)Did I mention the bit where Gandalf teaches Eowyn to use magic?
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 05:36 pm (UTC)But do tell. Because it explains how her hair always flutters in the wind, so much so that she seems to generate her own wind aura for her hair to flutter in...
(Dude, _50 minutes_?)
This meandering note brought to you by Silmaril has no body chemistry balance and two deadlines tomorrow foundation. Whee.
(*): "Very likely", as in the correct time for it, but I don't remember getting such an emotional upheaval before, so I might be going through hormonal evolution. I'm told that things change with age, and this is one change I wouldn't welcome at all.
(**) Note to self: Brand names exist for a reason. Especially re: buying stuff from side-of-the-highway-in-small-town non-chain convenience stores. Another lesson learned.
(***) If I e-mailed
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 07:03 pm (UTC)Eowyn goes to Gandalf, asking him to teach her a love spell she can cast on Aragorn. He gives her the "magic is a dangerous thing, you don't know what you're asking" lecture, in which Jackson incidentally explains to the audience why it is that Gandalf doesn't just fireball the orcish hordes willy-nilly.
She still wants the love potion, so he reluctantly agrees to teach her magic - he's learnt from the business with Pippin and the palantir that if he says no, she'll probably get herself into trouble. He tries to do the old 'Wizard of Oz' trick, using placebo 'spells' to boost her self-confidence - a "beauty charm" that's really just an extra-body shampoo, that sort of thing.
But she finds him out, steals his spellbook one night, and copies out the formula for a love potion. It has to be given in several doses, over several days; she manages to hide the first dose in Aragorn's soup, but just as she's set to give him the last one in the House of the Healers, Gimli stumbles over a corpse and sends things flying. Faramir ends up getting the potion instead, and Eowyn realises what an awful thing she's done - trying to make somebody love her against their will. She goes to Gandalf to apologise, and he tells her to follow her conscience... and she realises that she rather does like Faramir after all.
That bit takes about fifteen minutes, all in all. Another ten minutes are devoted to all the Elvish singing that had to be cut from the book, and the other twenty-five is something that Jackson's said "will finally appease the slashfic writers who've been nagging me for the last three years".
(And yes,
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 07:56 pm (UTC)Yay, singing! So do we finally get to find out what Orlando Bloom's voice sounds like as well? I mean, Boyd and Mortensen aren't half bad...
The last 25 minutes can be either of two scenes from wedding nights, so I don't consider that a spoiler. It'll either be the R-rated "look, it's Arwen there, not Legolas, bite us," or the R-rated "look, it's Rosie there, not Frodo, bite us." Of course, it might be a montage of both, with some Galadriel/Celeborn scenes from their second honeymoon aboard the Grey Ship thrown in.
(If your brain is seared, I did warn you that I am imbalanced today/night. Wait. This is you we're talking about. Your brain would probably not be seared; mine is, at the moment, past searing.)
(Yes, I did purposefully "misunderstand" the word "appease". There are some things that are not past searing my brain still, on second thought.)
(This wasn't an invitation to explore those avenues more. You already graduated to weird-tasting peanuts from weird-tasting raisins for pelting purposes, for writing what amounts to Tolkien fanfiction with the spellbook bit, and I think Tolkien fanfiction is blasphemy. Don't shoot for the weird-tasting cashews.)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 08:24 pm (UTC)Yay, singing! So do we finally get to find out what Orlando Bloom's voice sounds like as well?
.Yes, but that's in the last twenty-five minutes
You already graduated to weird-tasting peanuts from weird-tasting raisins for pelting purposes, for writing what amounts to Tolkien fanfiction with the spellbook bit, and I think Tolkien fanfiction is blasphemy.
Remember, you're talking to one-half of the team who brought the world "John Norman's Babylon 5". I have no shame.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 09:23 pm (UTC)(You said Elvish singing. What was I supposed to think?.... no, don't answer that. Please don't answer that. For the love of all that's
holy---that won't work---unholy, don't answer that.)They, however, cannot stand against the Raisins and Peanuts of Doom. Now, where had I put
As a matter of fact, I think I'll point everyone to this thread. If that still feels like a good idea tomorrow morning, with brain in a little-less-fried configuration.
(As to B5, I am unfamiliar with even the original source material. Which is, everyone from
(I must be not as short-tempered as I think, because after all this I still feel the need to point out that I keep on liking you. You may live awhile longer, especially as you have, paradoxically, been contributing to my sanity remaining intact through the night with this conversation. Yay for 14 hour time differences, and I never thought I'd say that.)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-30 10:59 pm (UTC)As for John Norman... that's a separate post, I think.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-01 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-01 04:05 pm (UTC)"John Ashcroft... of Gor!"
no subject
Date: 2004-10-01 09:41 pm (UTC)Reminds me of a series of parties where "President Quayle" was the house safeword.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-02 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-02 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-01 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-11 07:16 am (UTC)And yes, I will gladly pelt him. Perhaps we can do a deal concerning photos-in-shorts and extra added sultanas?