Aragorn picked up Frodo where he lay by the wall and made for the stair, pushing Merry and Pippin in front of him. The others followed; but Gimli had to be dragged away by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered by Balin’s tomb with his head bowed. Boromir hauled the eastern door to, grinding upon its hinges: it had great iron rings on either side, but could not be fastened.
‘I’m alright,’ gasped Frodo. ‘I can walk. Put me down!’
Aragorn nearly dropped him in his amazement. ‘I thought you were dead!’ he cried.
Frodo complained pretty much immediately when picked up. He’s a middle aged gentlehobbit on a mission, and a Baggins to boot, and has got no time for your Big Folk coddling.
Frodo objected to being carried at that point bcos Aragorn was only carrying him bcos he thought he was either dead or too injured to walk. They were trying to make a speedy getaway and Aragorn having to carry Frodo would slow him down. So, ofc Frodo didn’t want to be carried at that point in time. Doesn’t prove he doesn’t enjoy it.
This is right after Gandalf says, “A balrog. A demon of the ancient world.”
I just love how PJ chose to cut to Legolas’ face because he is exactly who you should cut to at this moment. You need an elf to show what it really means. Other than Gandalf, the rest of the Fellowship can sense something is gravely wrong, but they don’t understand just how grave. Like Gandalf, Legolas knows the terror. He understands the gravity of what lies around that corner. He’s got a piddly little bow and he is mere steps away from a demon of the ancient world. This frame shows a kid coming to the realisation that he is way out of his depth, that this mission will take him to places he only knew to exist in legends of the Elder Days, a time long gone, barely history.
He’s probably one of the youngest elves in Middle Earth at this point. He probably grew up on stories of the balrogs, slaying the ancient High Kings of the Eldar and tearing Middle Earth apart, thousands and thousands of years ago. They are legends in old crumbling books, read illicitly by a little elfling who was kept up at night by the terrible tales.They are the monsters under the bed and the shadows in the heart of the forest. They are the beasts behind the winged hordes of hell, that older elves, who’ve seen the worst that Arda has to offer, always assured him were no more than distant nightmares, stories relegated to dust and ancient memory. Except now they are real. They are here. They are coming.
I think LotR could have ended much differently if Frodo had just turned to Sam and said, “Hey, look, I realize you hate Gollum and don’t trust him at all, but could you please give him a chance? Genuinely be supportive of him? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am Projecting Heavily on him and my hope and sanity kind of hinges upon believing that he can be redeemed. I thought I was being really obvious about that but maybe not.”
“That’s all very well to say, Mr Frodo, but you and Peter Jackson were both asleep the one time I tried to bond with him over cookery and it didn’t end too well regardless, and also my own stability is pretty heavily dependent on my fixed intention to protect you, so I don’t have a lot of cope left over for him, if you understand me.”
“Christ, precious! Are WE the most psychologically stable ones on this trip?!”
Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought, His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought. His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest, And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.
Celebrimbor had associated with the dwarves for a long time, and clearly admired their skill. But, he is an elf, and therefore, must be difficult at all possible times. So. To his friends, he started calling Khazad-dum Moria instead. It was a joke. It was him being ridiculous about this gorgeous glowing kingdom of dwarves.
He had no idea when to pull back the joke, so damn right he put it on the gate. The dwarves knew about it. They knew that it was how this elf showed his admiration. And just a little bit at first, it was a memory of Celebrimbor who had died in agony and torment in Sauron’s clutches, protecting the world.
Basically, I’m saying that for a while after Celebrimbor died, dwarves called it Moria in the same way you see pics of a guy in a crazy outfit at a friend’s funeral. They’re honoring an old joke, and so, honoring him.
After the balrog, after Dwarrowdelf fell? If you think the superstitious dwarves didn’t read that inscription and take it as long ignored prophecy, I will call you a liar.
Aragorn: I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.
Aragorn: This is Gimli, son of Gloin
Aragorn: And this is Legolas…
Legolas: he’s fucking forgotten my dad’s name
Aragorn: …of the woodland realm
Legolas: oh my god
Meg's Mumbles 