I hadn’t fully mourned the loss of MY Lord of the Rings until now.
Peter Jackson’s films were amazing and definitive and I love them, however it wasn’t until I tried to read through the books again that I fully understood how definitive they were. Millions of dollars and hundreds of talented artists fleshed out Tolkien’s world in a way my imagination never could. As I read I found that every character and location had been replaced by actors, Weta’s sculptures, New Zealand’s beautiful landscapes. It’s all great, but it broke my heart to realize that mine was gone.
This image is one last hurrah. One last artistic foray into my own vision of the story when Middle Earth was the Canadian Rockies I grew up by, the soundtrack was by Loreena Mckennitt and the players were all made up.
It was funny and sad to see that even this attempt to recreate my image of the characters was tinted by the films. Oh well, I’ll always have them tucked away on a shelf in my mind.
Currently reading and loving it. It has magic and mages who snort gunpowder and become superhuman and stuff.
Field Marshal Tamas’ coup against his king sent corrupt aristocrats to the guillotine and brought bread to the starving. But it also provoked war with the Nine Nations, internal attacks by royalist fanatics, and greedy scrambling for money and power by Tamas’s supposed allies: the Church, workers unions, and mercenary forces. Stretched to his limit, Tamas is relying heavily on his few remaining powder mages, including the embittered Taniel, a brilliant marksman who also happens to be his estranged son, and Adamat, a retired police inspector whose loyalty is being tested by blackmail.
Now, as attacks batter them from within and without, the credulous are whispering about omens of death and destruction. Just old peasant legends about the gods waking to walk the earth. No modern educated man believes that sort of thing. But they should…