Hobbit Day

Of course I’ve been thinking of Middle Earth today! ¬†I’m sure some of you have too. ūüėČ

I’ve heard so many people say that they wished they could visit Tolkien’s beautiful world, and I must say that I don’t blame them. . . ¬†But I’ve never really seen it that way.

For me, Middle Earth has never been farther than my backyard. ¬†Tolkien did not try to make¬†The Lord of the Rings allegorical, but in the introduction to my version of The Fellowship of the Ring he said he thought it ‘applicable’.*

I believe I am a better person because I read fantasy. ¬†I know there is a lot of really bad fantasy out there, but I say it’s worth sifting through it. ¬†Because there’s books out there like The Hobbit.

Middle Earth is right here, right now. ¬†Fangorn is every tree I’ve ever climbed, and Aragorn is every hero I’ve admire. ¬†I see him in friends of ours, I see him in my Dad. ¬†I saw him in the police officer standing in the middle of the street picking up trash. ¬†I never want to underestimate the Strider’s around me–like so many people in Middle Earth did. ¬†I feel the pull of the Ring every time I’m tempted to snap at someone, or not bother to do what’s right. ¬†I pray I can resist like Frodo did. ¬†I see Arwen and Pippin and Merry¬†in my family, and in my friends.

Whatever character you’ve been dying to meet, you can meet. ¬†They’re in you, in your heart, in those around you.

What Aragorn/Legolas/Eowyn/etc.¬†in your life have you been¬†missing? ¬†Middle Earth is right here around us–are we¬†ready to fight the darkness?

 

*Forward to The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien, page x

Hiding

A friend of mine has a private blog, and I have enjoyed reading it for several years. ¬†She just got a public one recently, and I’m so excited to be able to link to her now! ¬†She recently posted a beautiful poem she wrote, and I think y’all should read it:

http://scattered-scribblings.blogspot.com/2016/09/hiding.html

It’s beautiful.

Happy Sunday!

P.S. I think I’m officially giving up on Tuesdays. ¬†School has started, and we’ve been rather busy. ¬†(Ha. ¬†Like I was doing book reviews before school started. . .) ¬†Anyway, if I have a book I want to review, I’ll post about it whenever I can get¬†a review written. ¬†Sorry for the lack of posting lately.

Stories

Stories are among the first kinds of continuous discourse we learn. ¬†From the time we are children, we all tell stories to achieve a multitude of ends–to amuse, to warn, to excite, to inform, to explain, to persuade. ¬†Storytelling is fundamental to human behavior. ¬†No other form of prose can communicate large amounts of information so quickly and persuasively. (19)

Style: Toward Clarity and Grace by Joseph M. Williams

Archery

I wrote a paper on archery last school year, and I was going to post it on here, and somehow it never happened all summer.  So. . . here we are now.  My apologies to everyone who has been waiting to read this.

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‚ÄúSo long as the new moon returns in heaven a bent, beautiful bow, so long will the fascination of archery keep hold of the hearts of men‚ÄĚ (Thompson, 5).

The bow is a fascinating weapon, and it has been used since the days of ancient Egypt. Today, firearms have taken its place in warfare, but archery is still practiced as an intriguing sport, and a powerful method of hunting. It is the oldest sport still practiced. The Scorton Silver Arrow Contest, begun in Yorkshire, England in 1673 (Haywood, x) is still held today‚ÄĒand still for only male archers over twenty-one (Studelska, 35). It is the oldest recorded sporting event (Studelska, 35). In this paper, I will explore different types of archery practiced today, discuss the history of archery, and give some examples of archery in literature.

Continue reading Archery

September

“But his uneasiness wore off, and in the fine weather he forgot his troubles for a while. ¬†The Shire had seldom seen so fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full. (75)
The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

Hooray for September! ¬†(And that’s not just because it includes September 22nd. *cough*)

I’m not looking forward to the busyness of the school year, but I’m looking forward to autumn weather. ¬†(And that’s not just because I can wear my Strider boots without getting hot.) ¬†I never thought I really liked fall, but it’s been growing on me. ¬†Fall suggests everything lovely: fresh fruit; flame-colored leaves; gossamer and big, beautiful spiders (I like those as long as they don’t touch me. . .); crisp autumn mornings; cool breezes; everything pumpkin flavored; pretty scarves and gloves. . .

Happy autumn, y’all!

P.S. I got more info on Catania’s Forest up recently. . . it’s still not much, but you should get a chance to learn more soon.

iHeart Writing Tag

Micaiah tagged me for the iHeart Writing Tag a while ago, and I’m finally getting around to doing it. ¬†I’m so sorry it took me this long, Micaiah. ¬†Also, the blog you linked to that had the rules in it isn’t showing up, so I might not do this right. ¬†I apologize.

Anyway, here’s my short story (which is actually quite¬†long ūüėČ ):

Cara’s olive green skirt swept across the grass, rustling as she walked. The arrows in the quiver at her side jostled each other with a soft rattling sound. She figured the edge of the bow she held as she took a deep breath of the warm, spring air. Butterflies swirled and danced above the wild flowers straggling from the edge of the woods; as if expressing the joy that filled Cara’s heart. Sir Stephen was holding a banquet that night in honor of the Thane of Silvestar’s visit, and every friend she had in the countryside would be there. The idea of trying to introduce Ayla to everyone nagged at her blissful mind, the only thing tainting her happiness. She hoped with Lord Silvestar there she would be excused from the responsibility.

A soft rustle near the edge of the forest fell upon her ears, and she turned toward the trees. A small hare crouched warily on the verge of the trees, its brown-grey ears twitching. Cara snatched an arrow from her quiver as silently as she could and put it to her bow. She aimed quickly and let the arrow slide through her fingers, the red feathers brushing her cheek. The small animal darted away into the underbrush and her arrow struck the ground, nearly six inches off her mark. She sighed and started forward to retrieve her shaft.

Continue reading iHeart Writing Tag