Tag Archives: Lord of the Rings

April 17, 2026

Of Firefly, Farewells, and the Good of the One

By The Sector M

Hey, everyone. This is a blog post I had hoped I would never have to write, and it’s surreal, bordering on unreality, that I’ve sat down to put these words together at all. I lost my best friend, Travis, less than a week ago at the time of this writing. Just writing that sentence feels like I’ve dipped my heart in liquid nitrogen and then shattered it against the floor.

His loss was shocking for the fact that it was so unexpected. He had been having some health issues the last little while, it’s true, but no one that knew him could have guessed that he was facing a life-endangering condition. But now he’s gone, and those who knew him are left in the wake of his passing — confused, heartbroken, and stricken.

‘Nuff said.

I’ve written eulogies to people I’ve lost before on this blog, notably about my grandfather, my godmother, and my godfather. This is yet another in that series, but one that packs an emotional wallop the likes of which I’ve never been dealt before.

This post is an attempt to make sense of the world around me now. I won’t lie — this is going to be a rough one, but I hope you’ll stick with me on it. Travis is an essential part of my origin story, as you’ll see.

Who Was He?

I was an only child growing up. Thankfully, I had plenty of cousins on both sides of the family to fill that role. Travis was a cousin on my Dad’s side. He was six years my senior, and I looked up to him my entire childhood, and that never really stopped. He was a gentle person with the mind of an intellectual, the heart of a gamer, and the soul of a poet.

I admired all of those qualities about him, but others around us didn’t. We both grew up in the rural spaces of East Texas, and neither of us ever quite fit the country mold or mentality. We were eternally the puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit the space we were granted. We loved comics and philosophy, history and science fiction/epic fantasy, literature and gaming, both of the tabletop variety and video games. The Venn diagram of our interests was very nearly a circle.

Those interests did not make us very popular with our peers at the time, however, but it didn’t matter because we were around each other enough that we knew we had a fellow geek and nerd in the other. We would sit in the backroom of our great-grandmother’s house, a place known as the Boys’ Room, and talk for hours about everything that was on our minds.

This isn’t the actual sign, but a similar one was nailed to the door of the Boys’ Room.

The irony is that most people who knew Travis would likely describe him as quiet, but let me tell you that some of the longest and most engaging conversations that I’ve ever had were with him. He had a rapier wit and no small amount of snark that he injected in these conversations that often left me laughing until my sides hurt. So, yeah, he was easily one of my favorite people on this green Earth. When I say that he’s the closest thing to a brother that I have, I want you to understand my meaning.

But even the word brother doesn’t quite cover it. I’ve known plenty of people who have actual blood siblings who were not as close as we were. We were not only a family by blood but also by choice. I was lucky enough to maintain that bond right up until the end.

Processing his loss is not going to come soon, nor will it come easily. He occupied a unique and irreplaceable role in my life. His death is a major landmark. There will always be a ‘before’ and an ‘after’ time.

The truth is that the tapestry of our lives was interwoven, and having him ripped away, stitch and seam, leaves me as ragged around the edges as the metaphor implies.

A Fanboy Education

I’ve had a lifelong love of superheroes. My first impressions of DC were shaped by Super Friends, just as my first foray into Marvel was through Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends. I watched those shows before I could read, and even though he was older than I was, Travis always watched those with me when we were together.

I can hear the theme song in my head.

While the concept of superheroes was not something he introduced me to, per se, he did spark my interest in comic books. He was the first comic collector I ever met, the first to bag and board his comics, and the one who introduced me to the deep ocean of lore that made up the DC and Marvel universes. Some of the very first comics I ever owned came from Travis. My access to comics as a kid was pretty limited, and often Travis would be the one to bring issues that I had missed when we would meet up in the Boys’ Room.

I was fortunate enough to see nearly all of the MCU movies with him. I believe the last one we saw together was Deadpool and Wolverine before some of his health issues started to take their toll, making him adverse to going to the movie theater. Streaming helped with that somewhat, and we still got to watch a number of good flicks. The last one we watched together was The Old Guard, starring Charlize Theron, just a few weeks ago. 

While the MCU has been a bit hit-or-miss the last few years, both of us were really looking forward to seeing Avengers: Doomsday. Seeing it this December is going to be really weird without him. 

All the Lasts

When someone I care about dies, I start to think about the ‘lasts’ with that person. When was the last time that I saw them, talked to them, went to dinner with them, those sorts of things. I’ve mentioned a few of them already, but here are some of the lasts with Travis:

  • Last text: A short message telling me to check with his roommate on some things related to Travis going into the hospital.
  • Last email: a listing of different doctors appointments he had in the works.
  • Last phone call: I had accidentally dialed him. He called me back to make sure everything was okay.
  • Last dinner: A trip to Longhorn Steak House after the last session of his Forgotten Realms campaign.
  • The list goes on, and on, and on…

The last in-depth conversation we had was about Firefly. The news that there might be an animated Firefly series in the works, with the original actors reprising their roles, made us both excited for a potential comeback. So, I had gone back to revisit the series, even introducing my young son to it in the process.

Travis and I talked about what the characters and setting meant to us while we waited in the doctor’s office. I told him that we had finished “Objects in Space,” the last episode of the regular series, and that we would watch Serenity soon. We weren’t sure how my son would react to the untimely deaths of Shepherd Book and Wash.

We finished up at the doctor’s office and I drove him home. I ate lunch at his house, though his stomach was not feeling well, so he didn’t join me. The last thing he said to me was that he really appreciated all my help.

That’s the problem with lasts; most of the time you don’t realize it was the last time you’ll do something. So, the last geeky conversation we had, out of the many thousands we’ve had over the years, was about a show that was gone too soon, and forever missed by those who loved it. Fitting, no?

Travis went into the hospital the very next day, and into the ICU that night. He never fully regained lucidity in the days before he died. One of the nights that I came home from sitting vigil at the hospital, we watched Serenity. When the movie came out all those years ago, the two of us had attended a sneak-peak of it, and loved it, of course.

Love keeps her in the air when she ought to fall down… tells you she’s hurting before she keens. Makes her a home.

Watching it now, I’m struck by Zoe and Mal’s last interaction in the movie. After the death of her husband, and the near dismembering of Serenity, Mal asks about the ship, but is really asking about how Zoe is grieving.

Think she’ll hold together?

To that, Zoe replies:

She’s torn up plenty, but she’ll fly true.

All the Firsts

As bittersweet as it is to remember my last interactions with Travis, I now face a universe of ‘firsts’ that happen without him present. His first birthday after he’s left us. My first birthday without him. The first holiday season without him here. That’s just the immediate stuff. The future holds all sorts of milestones, like graduations, weddings, and, yes, even funerals, where I will wish like hell that he was still here to be there for them. My first major book launch is in a little over a month, and now I won’t be able to share it with him.

Those thoughts are nearly unbearable. At times, they weigh down on me like I’m Atlas from myth, but a version of him that doesn’t have super strength, being crushed beneath the unimaginable weight.  

I feel like I’m the Variant now, in a timeline gone horribly wrong.

It’s going to be a long while, and maybe never, before I see or do something cool and don’t immediately think to let Travis know about it.

While it might be a very writer-y thing to throw into the mix here, one of the things that’s really damaging my calm is now referring to Travis in the past tense. I thought we had a good twenty or thirty years left to us. We were supposed to both go to a retirement home where we could spend our twilight years gaming without having to worry about any of the rest of it.

This wasn’t how our story was supposed to end.

The Games We Played

Speaking of stories, we made a fair few ourselves. Tabletop role-playing games, or TTRPGs, are a wonderful engine for those creating characters, stories, worldbuilding, and the like. I use those skills all the time in my books, and Travis was there as I developed them. The two of us had many grand adventures together, from the streets of Waterdeep and sands of Netheril, to the Siege of Kalaman, and the last stand at the High Clerist’s Tower, as well as so many other battles, adventures, and shining moments. He was an inventive and strategic player, whose characters often found ways to punch way above their weight.

He told me once that the first character he ever rolled up was a fighter in the Rolemaster system named Aelfred. This is when he was in college. If you’ve never played Rolemaster, it is far and away the most complicated tabletop RPG I’ve ever encountered. It does have one of the coolest skill systems that I’ve since adapted to other games. Suffice to say, if Travis could cut his teeth on that system, he was fearless at running other games.

The last character he played was a cleric named Gazpacho for a D&D 5e campaign. I was not involved in that game, unfortunately, but I was in plenty of others over the years, both as a fellow player and as a GM/DM. 

Here’s a litany of the characters that were in games that I played in or ran myself:

Francis Greenleaf and Malik the Reaver (Forgotten Realms), Korranderaythe “Kor” von Cristalvasser (Dragonlance), Laeryn Chanis, Gwaelon, the Rune Magus, and Phillipe “Flit” Ballantine (Valeriand), Alfon the Blade (RPG to Go), Jasper (Greyhawk), the Mimic (Reverse Dungeon), Faustindintal Krinkledoom the Gnome Beserker (One Shot), Tiny the Pygmy Storm Giant (One Shot), Rick Derris (Traveller), Sour Ron (7th Sea), Chuck Wagon (Werewolf the Apocalypse), Adam Adamant and Sebastian Vandergriffin (Glorantha), Gruhn and Hawk (Iron Kingdoms), Quarantine (AEOS-17), Councilor Trip (Fallout), President McKenna (Far Beyond the Stars), Derek Calderon (Star Wars), and Nevarre Nightshade (Shadow of the Dragon Queen).

Travis was also a prolific GM/DM. Here’s a similar list of campaigns that he ran where I was a participant:

Shadow World (Rolemaster), Memphis By Midnight (World of Darkness), Age of Netheril (Forgotten Realms), Angels and Devils (Forgotten Realms), Silverymoon/The North (Forgotten Realms), Game of Thrones – Past Lens (Rolemaster), Malkaziel’s Cataract (Forgotten Realms/Tenede)

In all this, I have to include this story. One of my first attempts to run a game was when I was in junior high. I created a super-simple RPG system that used only six-sided dice. It was really meant for us to play while on road trips where most of it was handled through just talking it out.

A couple of my cousins had made up characters and played for a while. They had levelled a bit and found some great magic items. At this point, I hadn’t figured out that if you introduce a new character into the party that you should start them out relatively equal to the other party members. When Travis came down from college during the summer, he made up a character named Alfon the Blade, a thief/rogue character who, rather unfortunately, only had one hit point. Travis didn’t mind, however. He was adept at playing oddball characters.

After getting kicked out of the town square for plinking on an out-of-tune harp that only had one string, I introduced him to our cousin Michael’s character, an extremely dangerous Dwarven assassin named Viper. Viper had made a reputation for himself by clearing out the local forest of several gangs of bandits singlehandedly. Understand that Michael was maybe 10-years-old at the time. Travis was 19 or 20.

So, when Viper met Alfon for the first time, Viper gave his future companion the immortal greeting of: “Why don’t you come with me to kill thieves, because thieves are easy. And if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

I really wish I had a picture of Travis’s face in that moment. Considering that Alfon was one of those aforementioned thieves, who only had one hit point, Travis quickly agreed to join forces with Viper.

Travis told me later that Viper really knew how to make a sales pitch, the proverbial offer you couldn’t refuse.

Priceless.

The Good of the One

I cannot count the number of hours that I’ve spent talking with Travis about various intricacies and nuances of fantasy and sci-fi stories. Game of Thrones, Babylon 5, Star Wars, lots of Lord of the Rings, Dragonlance, The Avengers, Watchmen, Transformers, Dune, you name it. A love of Star Trek, however, is something that we both had in our blood even from an early age.

Spock’s axiom that “the good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one” is a philosophy that Travis put into practice daily. He continually put the needs of everyone else around him before his own, almost to a fault. He did not seek recognition or self-aggrandizement, but preferred to fly under the radar and be left alone.

When he went to the hospital for the last time, we saw Kirk’s reversal of that philosophy that “the good of the one outweighs the good of the many” on display. A number of folks dropped what they were doing to come and show their support for him and the family. Even more called, sent texts, or showed support through various social media. This continued even after Travis left us, and I don’t imagine it will let up anytime soon, and I’m thankful for it.

I can’t imagine trying to mourn a loss this unthinkable without the community around me. I know I will be leaning on them in the days, months, and years ahead. But to put that loss into perspective, now I know something of what Kirk would have felt when Spock died at the end of The Wrath of Khan, helpless to do anything but watch as the other one slipped away, and dumbstruck at not knowing how to process that his friend was gone.

When Leonard Nimoy passed back in 2015, a YouTuber named Melodysheep put together what I think is one of the most moving tributes to the character of Spock and by extension his relationship with Kirk. It’s also just a really good song that I will embed here. It’s worth taking a look/listen.

I definitely don’t want to paint Travis as being purely logical and without emotion, because he definitely wasn’t like that. But I was always the impulsive one, the one who rushed in where angels feared to tread. He was the cautious one, always advising me to look before I would leap, and to not make important decisions when emotions were running hot.

I’m glad I took some of those lessons to heart, but I’m not done learning from Travis yet.

On Farewells

A character flaw of mine, one which I’m very well aware of, is that I absolutely hate change. Once I get something where I like it, I want it to maintain indefinitely, but of course it never does. We live in a world that is constantly in flux. Almost always those are changes that we can do nothing about.

Losing someone I care about is the ultimate kind of change that I didn’t ask for or want. Again, I can do nothing about it now. I’m not sure what the shape of my life will look like now that he’s gone, and I’m not looking forward to finding out.

Words don’t usually fail me, but they do in this case. As raw as this account has been, it can never really do the man justice. I shall not look upon his like again.

But here I am in in the aftermath. All I can do is try to move forward, though it is tearing the heart right out of me, and try to live a life worthy of his memory and legacy. So, that’s what I’m going to do. I will honor him and the many debts that will now remain eternally in arrears.

Be at peace, Son of Gondor.

In closing, I’d like to share a bit of poetry with you. As I said, Travis had the soul of a poet. One of his favorites was The Noble Nature, which is a poem about the brevity of life and beauty. I’ll leave you with the last two lines of it, which were the last lines of the last email he ever sent me.

In small proportions we just beauties see.

And in short measures life may perfect be.      

                             —Ben Jonson. (1572-1637)

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October 1, 2024

Of Santa Claus, Aragorn, and Inevitable Partings

By The Sector M

Folks, I have to say upfront that is a blog post I had hoped I wouldn’t have to write for many more years to come. Back in 2020, I wrote a post about my godmother when she passed away that talked about what a genuinely cool person she was and how she facilitated my interest in Transformers. A few weeks ago, her beloved husband, my godfather Jim, joined her in the great beyond. My earlier blog served as a sort of eulogy for her, which helped me come to terms with her loss; this one is in remembrance of him, which I hope will serve in a similar capacity.

“Here at last, on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our fellowship.”

Like with my godmother, it’s tough to really express how much an influence he was on my life. Growing up, it was like having a third grandfather. Functionally, that’s what he was, though we weren’t blood related. My godparents took me into their lives at such an early age that I don’t remember it. They have simply always been there.

So, yeah, I’m in that phase of grief where I’m trying to understand a world that doesn’t have Jim in it. He remains one of the smartest and wisest people I’ve ever known. He served as my lifelong mentor, my moral compass, and so much more. Like my godmother, he was a pretty interesting person. He was a builder and an engineer, a natural leader, a teacher, an orator, and SCUBA instructor. In fact, when I learned how to dive, he was the one who taught me — just one of the many life skills he imparted to me over the years.

Also like my godmother, he helped fuel my interest in Transformers. He was responsible for many of the bigger sets that I received over the years, including Omega Supreme, Jetfire, Megatron, Metroplex, and (most notably) Sixshot, which he got me for my birthday.

I don’t have the box anymore, but this is what it looked like.

His job often took him to Dallas, where he would scour the various Toys R’ Us stores in search of toys for me. He didn’t stop at Transformers, either. Other toy lines like M.A.S.K., Starriors, and Voltron were among the ones he found for me. I’m lucky enough to have kept many of those gifts from him, which are even now on shelves in my office as I write these words.

Of Santa Claus and Child-Like Wonder

On the subject of gifts, this was the man that I literally thought was Santa Claus when I was a young child. He used to tell me in passing that he was secretly Santa, and I thought he was joking. Jim had lost part of his right index finger in an accident years before I was born. This detail will be important momentarily.

Well, when I was about three or four, my godmother took me to see Santa just a few weeks before Christmas. When it was finally my turn to approach, Santa greeted me by name. That seemed pretty on brand for Santa, keeping in mind that I didn’t think this was just a guy in a suit, I thought this was the Santa Claus I was going to see. He seemed to know all about me, which also seemed to track.

It was only when I looked down at his hand that realized I that Santa was also missing that part of his index finger. It all clicked in my mind. I had my “Wait, you ARE Santa!” moment. From that point until one of my cousins (I won’t say which one) spoiled the whole Santa-isn’t-real deal for me a few years later, I was convinced I actually knew Santa personally.

Even though his persona as Santa eventually faded into the background, my esteem for him forever remained at that level.

Of Aragorn and the Halls of Mandos

A few months ago, I wrote a post about fantasy Dwarves and why I think they are so cool. In it, I mentioned the group Clamavi de Profundis, who have perfected the art of the Dwarven Song. They have adapted many of Professor Tolkien’s poems into songs. This also includes Aragorn’s Coronation song that we hear at the end of Peter Jackson’s Return of the King.

…tenn’ Ambar-metta.

They start with the poem itself, but after the first recitation, a young woman’s voice sings the “All That Is Gold” poem in Tolkien Elvish that’s both beautiful and haunting, sounding like something right out of a Howard Shore score. Then, we get a reprise of the coronation poem, only this time other voices raise up to join the main voice. If you watch the video, it is implied that these are Aragorn’s forebears, his ancestors becoming a chorus to own Aragorn’s recitation, as though they were lending the newly crowned King Elessar some of their strength from beyond the veil of death. 

I listened to this song after I found out that Jim was gone, and it really affected me. It took a few days to recognize this catharsis when it came, but I think I have an understanding of it now. To some degree, what was true of Aragorn in that song is true is true of Jim and me now. I won’t get into the existence or non-existence of an afterlife here, but regardless of the metaphysics involved, part of Jim’s legacy includes all the life lessons that he taught me, the wisdom that he imparted. In a very real sense, I am the man I am today because of him. Those lessons echo now in the present.

Like I said, he was a teacher. Since he is no longer here to guide me on my life’s journey, I must continue to put into practice the principles and philosophy that he gave me. What remains now is to see if I can uphold them with as much vigor and character as Jim did. It’s a tough act to follow, let me tell you.

While I would have loved to have him around for much longer, the truth is that no amount of time would have been enough. I would always have wanted more. And though it is hard to accept, I must content myself with the time we did have together. If that last bit reminds you a bit of Gandalf’s “So do all who live to see such times” speech in Fellowship of the Ring, it’s not a mistake. Right now I’m living the part about deciding what to do with the time that is given to you.

Of Inevitable Partings

While I did not care very much for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, there was one scene that really spoke to me. Indy sits down at his desk while packing for his next adventure. He stares at a one photo of his father, Henry Jones Senior, and and another of his long-time friend, Marcus Brody. His friend, Charles Standforth (played by the wonderful Jim Broadbent), says, “We seem to have reached the age where life stops giving us things and starts taking them away.”

Now I’ve reached the age where the titans of my youth have started to fade away. We are all subject to the inescapable march of time. It is our fate to eventually say good-bye to everyone around us, or they to us. The inevitability of these partings does little to prepare us when they happen, though. I knew that Jim would, someday, be gone, but I’m struggling with just how much his loss affects me now that the day in question has finally arrived.

Now it’s not some dim and distant theoretical future. Look, I certainly don’t have a monopoly on grief. We all have to go through this at some point in our lives. But I’ll be damned if it isn’t an emotional gut-punch each and every time. It sucks, and the only way forward with grief is through.

But I suppose that is the price we pay for loving others, isn’t it? If we didn’t care, there would be no pain at times like this. As much as the grief I feel now weighs upon me, as much as it feels like there’s a hole in my heart, if I must now endure these dark days to have enjoyed so many years previously with Jim in my life, then so be it.

Final Thoughts

“White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

Whether for good or for ill, 2024 will go down as a year of transition for me on many levels. Some of this change has been welcome, though not without its own challenges. Other parts of it, like this loss and others, have been devastating. They’ve definitely left their mark on me.

Circling back to Gandalf for a moment, at the parting of the Grey Havens, he tells the assembled hobbits, “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.

This just serves to underscore that we should be present for each other in the time we do have together. In the hustle and bustle of daily life we can often lose sight of that fact. I know that happens to me, but the truth is life is temporary, impermanent, a limited-time engagement, so enjoy it.

If you love someone in your life, tell that them — often. Keep on telling them that. If it’s been a while since you’ve connected with someone you care about, reach out to them. If there’s a grudge you can let go of, do it. I guess what I’m trying to say is this: Life is short, so love with all your heart.

True, one of these days, we’ll have to say that final good-bye, but that time has not yet come. So, let’s make the most of it until then, okay?

Thanks for reading.

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June 11, 2024

Of Fantasy Dwarves and Unsung Heroes

By The Sector M

Like many readers around my age, my first introduction to fantasy dwarves was in The Hobbit. I first read it when I was eight years old. I remember that it was the first novel that I just couldn’t wait to get home from school to read. The scene where Thorin dies after the Battle of Five Armies also marks the first time I was ever moved to tears over something I read in a fictional story.

My original Avengers.

Since that day, I’ve always loved fantasy dwarves. Thorin and company gave me that first taste of high adventure, and I’ve never forgotten it. While fantasy dwarves are often depicted as half-pint Vikings who speak with Scottish accents, have over-the-top beard braids, and drink incessantly, there’s just something about them that appeals to me, both as a reader and author of fantasy. Since I created this blog to talk about the things I love, I thought I would share with you what appeals to me about them. I’m convinced that they are the unsung heroes of the fantasy genre.

Now before I get into the particulars, I want to make one thing clear: I’m speaking about fantasy dwarves, not people in the real world who have achondroplasia or other conditions that cause dwarfism. The dwarves I’m talking about are not human. While both Thorin Oakenshield and Tyrion Lannister are both labeled as dwarves in the pages of their respective stories, Tyrion is still a human, while Thorin is not.

“This is as far as you go.” (Art by Bob Kehl)

A Bulwark Against the Darkness: Depictions of dwarves in fantasy are pretty varied, but a few things seem to remain true in most tellings. They tend to be shorter than humans (thus the name) and live in wondrous underground kingdoms. They are generally resilient warriors who are masters at stonecrafting and metalworking. Their forges are often the envy of the rest of the world. They usually have longer lifespans than many other races except perhaps the elves.

While the elves tend to be the serene, idyllic beauties of the world, dwarves are rough around the edges, thick-limbed, with tempers that tend to be as fiery as their forges. They may not possess the grace and mystery of the elves, but they are usually forthright, honest, and noble in their hearts. They tend to keep their promises and stand by their word. Their focus is normally not on words and praise, but on actions. They are the do-ers of the world, pragmatic almost to a fault, and stalwart in the face of injustice.

Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.

Unfortunately, their existence in the world has come at a great price. Both in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, we don’t see a thriving dwarven culture. In the cases of Erebor and Khazad-dûm, they are kingdoms that have been devastated and overrun by their enemies. A lot of other fantasy stories have followed suit with this. In the Elder Scrolls, the dwarves (which are really a tribe of elves) have left nothing behind but their ruins and mechanical constructs. In D&D, most adventurers find themselves exploring dwarven redoubts and fortresses from ages past that now lie in ruins. The refrain is that the dwarves were great builders even in ancient times, ranging far and wide, but that they had to abandon those edifications due to some tragic set of circumstances.

“Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart. I can ask no more than that.”

To me, this gives the dwarves a tragic and melancholic vibe, since in their centuries of life they may have witnessed the collapse of one or more of these great realms. They can be forgiven for being a bit dour when the dwarves we meet in fantasy are often the survivors of catastrophic events that may have reshaped the world, and not always for the better. They are often the ones who have taken the hit to keep the horrors of the subterranean from boiling up to the surface. To some degree this explains the line in the Song of Durin, speaking of the elder days, “Unwearied then were Durin’s folk.”

Songs of Stone: For a culture renowned for their skill and ferocity in battle, dwarves are better known for their crafts and art. Dwarven weapons and armor aren’t just utilitarian, they are often works of art. They are poets in steel and stone. Their homes are feats of engineering, often far beyond the scope of what other fantasy races can achieve.

Flint Fireforge by the inestimable Larry Elmore

What I think gets overlooked, however, is their skill as musicians. When it comes to harps in fantasy, it feels like those are more of an elven thing, but in both the Song of the Misty Mountain and the Song of Durin, we hear that the dwarves played the harp and sang in rich melodies beneath the mountains. You could imagine that their caverns would make natural acoustic spaces for their instruments and deep voices to be heard. 

There’s a family of singers on Youtube called Clamavi de Profundis. They have perfected the art of the dwarven song. They have put many of Professor Tolkien’s poems to music, but they have also created their own dwarven continuity in which to frame some original songs. They’re amazing, and here are some of my favorites that I highly recommend you give a listen:

A few honorable mentions for them (because they are just so awesome), though not specifically dwarven in theme are: Aragorn’s Coronation Song, The Song of Beren and Lúthien, Lament for the Rohirrim, the Lament for Boromir, and I Sit Beside the Fire and Think.  

Clamavi de Profundis gives us a glimpse into what a dwarven musical tradition might sound like along with the deep feelings they elicit. Dwarves in fantasy might have stony or stern exteriors, but their music and poetry hints at the hidden wells of emotion and hearts of gold that they possess at their core.

Strength in the Face of Adversity: Dwarven stubbornness is legendary. Rarely do we see dwarves give up or run away from a fight when the chips are down, regardless of the numbers arrayed against them or the odds. This makes them unwavering allies to have against whatever adversary our fictional fantasy protagonists face. In fact, normally, if a particular cause has the dwarves on its side, its odds of success have generally gone up dramatically.

It’s that unquenchable spirit that never quits, never gives in, and never gives up without a fight that earns them a special place in my heart. Dwarves are often a people who have stared down their own end without backing down. If anything, the looming shade of destruction seems to elevate their will and tenacity to epic levels.

“I may not look like an activewear model, but *I* carry the Golden Axe.”

I think part of this strength is due to how dwarven communities are portrayed. Most of the time, they are shown as being from an extended series of clans, which perhaps is where they inherited their Scottish accents. A clan is a family unit, but a much more expansive one, including potentially dozens of families. Dwarven enclaves are rarely shown to be made up of a single clan, and marriage between clans is (usually) common, meaning that a community of dwarves is not just a city of disparate individuals, but a collective extended family. When they go into battle to defend their homes, it’s their kinsmen that fight at their sides, which they would never dream of abandoning. They count on each other, both on and off the battlefield, in a way that perhaps a similar human or elven community might not.

In a world where they constantly face great opposition, they’ve learned to stick together, hold to their community, and fight for what they believe in, come what may. 

Final Thoughts: When I first saw Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Ring, there’s the scene in Moria where the Fellowship finds itself having to fight the goblins and their cave troll in the Chamber of Mazarbul. Gimli has just realized that his cousin Balin has died only a few moments before. But that sorrow is quickly turned to rage when he leaps atop Balin’s tomb, an axe in each hand, and proclaims with a growl: “Let them come. There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath.” The first time I heard that line, I got goose bumps.

I had hoped that this would be Gimli’s moment to shine. Coming face-to-face with those who murdered his family, amongst the faded glory of the greatest dwarven kingdom in Middle-Earth, I figured it was time for Gimli to quickly dispense some much-needed dwarven justice. While Gimli definitely acquits himself well, the most memorable moments in the fight really come from Legolas. Even as incredible as that scene is, I had hoped it would be Gimli who threw down the cave troll or pulled off some incredible coup. But, it was the elf instead.

“That still counts as one.” (Art by Sebastian Giacobino)

Of course, Gimli gets plenty of chances to show his mettle in those movies, especially at Helm’s Deep, but the scene in Moria is where it felt like the dwarven warrior would have been the most inspired to reach heroic heights. But, Gimli’s efforts were largely overshadowed by his companions. And that, dear readers, is how I feel that the fantasy genre often treats dwarves; rarely do they get the spotlight, even when it would make sense, but they remain a solid and strong presence nonetheless.

But even if they rarely receive their due, they remain a compelling fantasy race whose story is constantly being told and retold by authors of each generation. True, they may be short, gruff, and aggressively Scottish at times, but whether you are watching them on screen, reading about them, or playing as one of them around a table or in a video game, they remain the backbone of the fantasy genre. 

Thanks for reading!

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September 23, 2022

The Allure (and Curse) of Prequels

By The Sector M

The concept of a prequel as a literary device has been around in one form or another for quite a long time in almost every medium. When The Phantom Menace came out in 1999, the idea of going back and telling the story of the Clone Wars was something that hadn’t been done before on that kind of cinematic scale. More than 20 years later, the Star Wars universe is still dipping into that well, and will likely continue showcasing stories that take place before A New Hope for the foreseeable future. 

Star Wars certainly isn’t alone in wanting to delve into the stories that take place before the original setting of the intellectual property. A short list of heavy-hitters appearing this year alone on TV includes (but is certainly not limited to) the following:

  • Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power
  • House of the Dragon
  • Star Trek: Strange New Worlds
  • Obi-Wan Kenobi
  • (And just this week) Andor

Before I get into the particulars, let me say this: This post is not about the casting, fan backlash, or creative decisions involved with any of these shows. I have the greatest respect for the actors, crew, and digital artists who bring these shows to life. If you’re here expecting some sort of fanboy outrage at one or more of those groups, feel free to hit that “eject” button now and punch out. Byyyyeee.

Still with me? Excellent. What I hope to do with this blog is to take a look at the viability of prequels as a framework for telling  stories, exploring three things that make prequels attractive as well as three more that make them less appealing than an original story. With that in mind, let’s dive in.

The Allure

Nostalgia

The most obvious answer is that a prequel hopes to capture the magic that the property had before, tapping into the good will and warm fuzzies that we may harbor from previous iterations of said property. Depending on how subtle or overt this previous connection is handled, you might wind up with fun call-backs, but it runs the risk of becoming heavy handed with member berries. 

For the most part, I’m fairly forgiving of when the fan service gets too fan service-y. Even when this happens, it’s hard to deny that the feelings that are evoked when you see parallels play out. In the right hands, they can be profound. The best prequels are able to successfully excavate those little nuggets of emotion we have tied up with the original and shine new light on them.

Nostalgia is often a distortion of past events, though, filtered through the lens of a yearning for a past that may or may not have really existed except in our minds. While it can be a two-edged sword, it can also be a powerful reminder of what we love, reigniting our passion and enthusiasm in the present. 

More Time in the Setting

Stories taking place in settings we love are always finite. There are only so many episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, only so many Lord of the Rings movies. Once a setting has achieved that sort of critical mass in the hearts and minds of fans, it’s natural to want to go back to that place if given the chance. After all, we have friends there, favorite spots, and (in general) we know what we’re getting ourselves into. It’s a known quantity, and one we already like.

Settings with rich backgrounds are often the most fertile soil for prequels. If you’re a lore nerd like I am, who just loves to sink your teeth into the backstory and worldbuilding, this is a chance to see it brought to life. The mentor figure of a previous story might now take center stage as the protagonist of the prequel. Characters who are bitter enemies might be friends in this telling. Maybe you get to witness legendary events play out that were only ever talked about, or receive additional context to the original story.

Like the voyages of the original Constitution-class Enterprise? Well, here’s more of that. Remember the thrill of Game of Thrones? Let’s have another foray into Westeros, shall we? And so on.

A Safe Bet

Prequels don’t have the risk that new, completely original stories carry. There’s a built-in audience, likely one that’s hungry to see more of whatever it is. This makes prequel stories something comfortable for both the producers and consumers of media. If you liked this, you’ll surely love that.

It’s the same mindset that brings us sequels, but there’s an innate guardrail backed into prequels: You know where the characters are going. You don’t have to worry about coming up with the next big story arc, and you already have the end point established. You’re just filling in the gaps and adding additional layers to a story that’s already been told. 

The Curse

Spectacle Creep

The issue with going back before the ‘main’ timelines is that the temptation to make the prequel story bigger, grander, and more impressive often blows the originals out of the water. Consider the lightsaber duels in the Star Wars prequel trilogy. They are orders of magnitude more complex and fast-paced than the ones we see in the original trilogy.

The ever-increasing want to pile spectacle on top of spectacle, to outdo what audiences have experienced before, can be momentarily thrilling in the moment, but it always has the effect of making the source material seem far more mundane. This is especially noticeable when you watch the releases in that universe’s chronological order. Thus, prequels often have the side-effect of downgrading or side-lining the originals.   

Continuity Nightmare

By its very nature, a prequel does not exist in a void. It comes before something. It’s no easy feat to balance the needs of the prequel story with the constraints placed on it by the stories that released before it. It’s a delicate balance to walk. Lean too much into what’s been established and you risk severely limiting the scope of your story. Throw canon to the wind and the prequel story may not fit within the greater framework that exists in the minds of fans.

This is personally why I think that prequels can be a hard sell for long-running fandoms — it’s too easy to cause contradictions and lore breaks. Sure, not everyone cares about that. Most casual viewers probably don’t, but invariably there are fans who are invested in the universe that do want to see continuity maintained. Prequels are often the bane of those kinds of fans.

Now I know that, more often than not, these types of fans are dismissed out of hand as whiny manbabies, like a Youtube comment section come to life. But, I would argue that many of the fans that object to major breaks in a universe’s continuity just want all parts of the thing they love to work in concert, forming  a cohesive whole, rather than having elements that work in opposition to that. Major breaks in continuity can make that a bridge too far to span.

Lack of Stakes

Perhaps the worst curse of prequels is that we know that nothing will really change. Yeah, maybe we get a little extra insight into what leads up to the originals, but we know the story can only resolve in a certain way. We already know who lives and who dies.

That means that established characters that are alive and kicking in the future are effectively untouchable in the present. There are no stakes when the outcome is already known. When there are no stakes to a story, it can make everything in it feel brittle and unearned. It doesn’t matter how outnumbered, outgunned, or impossibly the odds are against them, we know that the heroes will make it through. It drains most, if not all, of the dramatic tension from the story as we already know the protagonists will win. Prequels are where the plot armor is thickest, and it shows.  

Final Thoughts

For one reason or another, we live in an age of prequels. In the case of both the Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones universes, it’s because the main stories have already been told, and it’s too soon for any sort of reboot. With Star Trek and Star Wars, they seem to both have an allergy to advancing their own timelines (with some exceptions), and would much rather set their stories in eras that have historically proven popular.

Combine that with the powerful urge for studios to create some sort of interrelated cinematic universe, and it’s a safe bet that the stream of inevitable prequel releases is just getting started.  

Still, there are some places even within those offerings  where new, original stories can thrive, ones that aren’t as beholden to other source material that have more space to grow. (Mandalorian, I’m looking at you.) While my instinct is usually to leave backstory as just that, I’m usually willing to give prequels stories a shot. Sometimes they land, and sometimes they don’t. After all, a story well told is a story worth your time, regardless of how much baggage it might carry from what has gone before.

So, I put it to you, dear reader, what are your thoughts on prequels? Do you like them, love them, despise them, or are you just sort of ‘meh’ on them? Let me know in the comments below.

Thanks for reading!

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