![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mokie_edomI dreamt of hobbits.
Battle is called to a halt for lunch, and all of the various orcs, Rohirrim, soldiers and such file off into massive tents. When the meal is over, everyone wanders out to pick up their weapon and their place in the fight. Frodo emerges from one tent, staggering not from exhaustion but because he got drunk off of his little hobbit ass.
I shake my head and scoop him up, taking him back to Rivendell where I peel off his cloak and pants (not at all in a sexual way), put him into a bed and tell him that he can go back to where he was in Mordor later, after he's had a nap. He argues a little but I stick to my guns and he passes out eventually.
I have a vague memory of Peter Jackson appearing later and scolding me for interfering with the storyline, and suggesting that I'm just another pervy hobbit fancier, but I object most strenuously to any suggestion of hobbit-molestation, because it's just ridiculous--he's a tiny little thing, first of all, and I was just worried and thought he needed to lay down and sleep it off, that's all.
Notes and explanatory details
#1. This dream was originally recorded in the mokiejournal proper, but the comments are mostly movie-related silliness, rather than comments on the dream.
#2: I have seen too many making-of specials. Thankfully, none of the orcs were singing "The Rainbow Connection."
#3: No more discussion of proper hobbit sizes/proportions before bedtime. Sure, we're thankful that Jackson didn't pull a "Willow," but now I fear that the comparison with little kids rather than little people, left to bubble in my brain overnight, might have permanently mutated my perfectly reasonable hobbitlust into "Awww, lookit the little bubbies!"
#4: On a related note, I think maybe I spend too much time wrangling my nephew.
Battle is called to a halt for lunch, and all of the various orcs, Rohirrim, soldiers and such file off into massive tents. When the meal is over, everyone wanders out to pick up their weapon and their place in the fight. Frodo emerges from one tent, staggering not from exhaustion but because he got drunk off of his little hobbit ass.
I shake my head and scoop him up, taking him back to Rivendell where I peel off his cloak and pants (not at all in a sexual way), put him into a bed and tell him that he can go back to where he was in Mordor later, after he's had a nap. He argues a little but I stick to my guns and he passes out eventually.
I have a vague memory of Peter Jackson appearing later and scolding me for interfering with the storyline, and suggesting that I'm just another pervy hobbit fancier, but I object most strenuously to any suggestion of hobbit-molestation, because it's just ridiculous--he's a tiny little thing, first of all, and I was just worried and thought he needed to lay down and sleep it off, that's all.
Notes and explanatory details
#1. This dream was originally recorded in the mokiejournal proper, but the comments are mostly movie-related silliness, rather than comments on the dream.
#2: I have seen too many making-of specials. Thankfully, none of the orcs were singing "The Rainbow Connection."
#3: No more discussion of proper hobbit sizes/proportions before bedtime. Sure, we're thankful that Jackson didn't pull a "Willow," but now I fear that the comparison with little kids rather than little people, left to bubble in my brain overnight, might have permanently mutated my perfectly reasonable hobbitlust into "Awww, lookit the little bubbies!"
#4: On a related note, I think maybe I spend too much time wrangling my nephew.
