#Rohirric peoples my loves

[enekorre]

I love rohan so much

#M #Rohirric peoples my loves

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

OK, people were very nice to me yesterday about my latest absurdly niche blorbo: Guthláf of Rohan. I wrote a little story about him (it's below and it's only 500ish words). But I feel like I can't post it in isolation without explaining myself a little better first.

The fact that he's Théoden’s banner bearer is the only detail about Guthláf’s life in the canon. But just that by itself was enough to grab my interest because I took a class on ancient warfare in college, and one of my major takeaways was that the flag bearers were often the bravest and most selfless guys in a battle. They were highly visible, highly vulnerable, and highly prized as a target for the enemy. That's not an encouraging combo, and they had an appallingly high casualty rate. And yet, the ones who pursued it did so willingly and considered it an honor!

Although Guthláf's name literally means "battle survivor", he did not avoid the flag bearer’s usual fate. He’s listed among the fatalities at the Pelennor Fields (along with Halbarad, the only (?) other named flag bearer in the books). So I wrote the drabble-ish story below about Guthláf’s experience of his own terrifying job. (I also, of course, have a full head canon about his personal life—how he spoke Rohirric with a rural accent that stood out in Edoras, how the early loss of his family drove him toward recklessness, how he was maybe in love with fellow obscure blorbo Wídfara, etc.—if anyone is interested! And I decided that he's the tall, blonde drink of water on the left below, who I believe is otherwise unnamed and is too young to be Elfhelm or Erkenbrand.)

Anyway. Story (ish) here:

Alone among his éored, Guthláf carries no weapon. In his left hand, he holds his shield, his one and only means of protecting himself; in his right, he carries his banner, a charging white horse on a field of deep green that whips furiously in the cold wind above his head.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf does not strike blows. His war is fought not with strength of arms but with strength of spirit. He has only to keep himself going long enough to let his banner do its work. To signal the direction of the charge and mark the vanguard of the attack. To be the rallying point around which scattered troops coalesce. To lead the way, like a torch in the dark, so that those behind know where to follow. He has only to keep that banner flying, set high and stark against the cool blankness of the winter sky, so that every Rohirrim heart can see that they are yet unconquered, that victory still lies ahead.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf can never hide or blend in. His banner draws the eyes of foes just as easily as friends. His every move is visible. Noted. Tracked. Hunted. The hope he kindles in his fellow riders is equaled by the hatred he inspires in their enemies, and there is no greater blow such an enemy can strike than to bring him down, to achieve with the death of one man the turning of a tide that can change the fate of thousands.

Alone among his éored, Guthláf has no hope that he will survive unscathed to see old age. Banner bearers don’t last long in times of war, and Guthláf is his éored’s fourth bearer in five years. He has only to walk the streets of Edoras to be confronted with the reality of how the lucky banner bearers end their days–empty sleeves tied up where an arm used to be, angry red scars across unprotected faces and necks, canes and crutches that will never fully compensate for crushed legs, twisted spines, shattered hips. The unlucky ones end instead in hastily raised barrows, resting eternally in the sometimes distant and friendless lands where they finally slid from the saddle, bloodied and broken and desperately looking for a loyal hand into which they could pass the banner before everything went dark at last.

And yet, Guthláf wanted this job. He fought for this job. It means everything to him. Because even as he rides to his death, charging into battle on his gray warhorse with his banner streaming brilliantly in his wake, he has never felt more alive. He has never felt so much bigger than himself. When he carries his banner, he is no longer just Guthláf, son of Hulac. He is instead the spirit of Helm, and Eorl, and Frumgar and all the great warriors of old. He is the sound of thousands of hoofs thundering together across an open plain. He is the sight of the jagged white peaks towering over the lush green and gold grasses of the Mark. He is Rohan itself, not just a man but an idea. And an idea can never be slain. When he carries his banner, Guthláf becomes immortal.

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #rohan #guthlaf #guthláf #barely canon favorites #obscure lil’ blorbos #forth eorlingas

[southfarthing]

For the ask game: Faramir of course 🤭

one aspect about them i love

EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGGG ok ok. I love how committed he is to his own moral stance. he won't be swayed - not by the ring, not by his father - from his decision to do the honourable thing

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

HE'S NOT A PATHETIC BABY ohhhhh my god. oh my god. this guy basically told his dad he was a dumb bitch who killed his own son. to his face!!!!!!! and that he therefore has reason to not take his father's advice!!! faramir is smart and honourable and good yes but he is also shrewd and bitchy <3 and a literal mind-reader??? with prophetic dreams??????ok

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

finduilas used to read stories to him about numenor and dol amroth and the sea, so after she died, he felt closer to her among the dusty bookshelves in the archives. he determinedly learned how to read so that he could find her in the pages whenever he wanted to. this is where gandalf first found him - this small, black-haired boy with a book half his size in his lap.

one character i love seeing them interact with

eowyn....gandalf.......any and every hobbit........

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

ELROND!!!!!!!! you don't understand I'm obsessed with the idea of these two meeting at midsummer in minas tirith. also a scene or two with boromir would have been 🥹 oh and beregond!!!! like 'hi i committed treason and murder to save you. also i've been your biggest fan for years. and now i've been exiled/rewarded by being your personal guard. do you want to be my best friend' '...who's this guy?'

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

he and eowyn write books together about rohirric culture and history and legends and songs <3 wait i just had a Thought i'm gonna make a separate post

#thank you! #filmamir #faramir #lotr #replies #hc #my hc

[hallothere]

2, 9, 21 :D

Tell us why you love one of your OCs or an obscure canon character (link to any fics/art you have featuring them!) 

:'D does Imrahil count as obscure I am dying to flesh out/draw a new ref sheet for my captain Miranwin, whose story would be so much cooler if it was more than 3-4 quests and vibes. I think she's actually gonna go with Rohan Trio, and that will have no impact whatsoever on her Feelings. of course not. something I love about her is how much she wrestles with her sense of duty and makes the most contradictory decisions because that's how she views doing her duty (i.e. 'if i'm not guard captain i'm not going to be protecting my city the way it needs to be, so i'll run away! protecting people on the road is totally the same.')

Your favourite fanon

@rohirric-hunter's "Radanir makes terrible coffee"

A favourite fandom event

I actually haven't gotten to do super many, but I do love Tolkien Secret Santa!

#lotro #ask games #thanks friend!!! #very hard to choose between SARC Originals TM #so many fanons my beloved

[theboarsbride]

Ooooh, hit me with any and all sweet and sappy Tathareth/Grima thoughts you have right now! I YEARN for more romantic headcanons with these two! Thank you!!

!!!!!!! YESSSSSSS AUUUUUGH YES YES YES ALWAYS HAPPY TO PROVIDE!!!!!!🥺🥺🥺🥺😳😳😳 THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!

Just random late night Grima/Tathareth thoughts hhhhhsbdghxhcjckakkaa-

Tathareth sings, Grima tells stories.

Tathareth doesn't feel confident in her singing at all and it isn't the best (by elven standards), which is why she reserves doing so for whenever she's alone.

Grima is all enchanted and selfish, wanting to hear her sing despite her shyness (and he likes to lurk and watch her afar so he can watch her sing without her knowing he's there, and therefore affecting her performance). He likes how gentle and wispy (and, to him, ethereal) elven music is compared to the more blunt melodies Rohirric music, and he just likes the sound of Tathareth's voice. 🥺

in return Tathareth likes hearing Grima tell stories, or just hearing him describe the world beyond Lothlorien. In a way, he does bewitch her mind, ensnaring it with the stories and tales he weaves with his words.

In the beginning, Grima'a stories start off as very bitter and cynical and hateful, reflecting his view of the world around him. He is bitter and hates all that has hated him in return, and he doesn't hold back from telling Tathareth this--much to her disappointment.

But once he realizes that Tathareth is genuinely cares about what he has to say, that she's curious and sheltered despite her immortality, and that what he describes to her means a lot to her, he GRADUALLY starts telling more positive stories.

Over time, he starts describing places like Rohan, its culture and people and landscape, and telling legends and myths from his culture with increasing hints of whimsy, for Tathareth's amusement.

In a similar vain, Tathareth will sing to him tales from elven culture--especially love ballads

Tathareth loves hearing about Rohan, lowkey, though she knows the culture and the landscape just... aren't for her? She'd never want to visit because Grima describes how Rohan actually has seasons, and gets cold, and hardly has any trees. 👊😔 but there is a lot of open space for her to observe stars and the night sky......but she still likes the shelter of forests.

Tathareth also likes leaving little braids and flowers in Grima's hair (especially Elanor flowers... because against his dark hair it gives the illusion of a starry night sky🥺)

She also encourages him to wear more greys and silvers and blues because she thinks it brings out the blue in his eyes😭😭

She just wants him to feel pretty for once in his life ok??????😭😭🥺🥺

Also festivals!!

They're both extremely introverted, with festivals not really being their thing. So if they ever attend one, they remain at the very edge of crowds, keeping to themselves. Grima provides snarky comments regarding the elves and his discomfort being a human amongst them, Tathareth is just quiet and enjoying his commentary.

If they dance, it's in private

Because Tathareth needs to take a moment to teach Grima more elven styles of dancing

Which already is awkward for Grima because he isn't graceful

And Tathareth is considerably taller than him

So any attempts at dancing result in Grima pouting and embarassed, and Tathareth amused.😭

...also when spooning, Tathereth is the big spoon

Because she realizes that it makes Grima feel protected and grounded whenever he startles from nightmares

And he finds her natural scent of lilacs to be comforting 😭

...also Grima is like a cat and will being Tathareth random gifts and trinkets, consisting mainly of whatever creepy crawlies or snakes or strange weed he comes across in Lothlorien's gardens.

Fortunately, Tathareth likes snakes 🥺

She likes snakes a lot

"My mother always told me that serpents truly aren't so terrible once you take the time to know one."

OK this is just a small handful on headcanons!! I've a few more I'd love to share but I dont wanna inadvertently spoil parts I have plotted for Serpentine Whispers!!!

BUT THANKS FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE ABOUT THESE TWO I CARE THEMB SO MANY😭😭😭😭😭😭

#serpentine whispers #lotr oc #grima wormtongue #jojo rambles

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: The King of the Golden Hall

Rohan lesssgoooooo!!

Aragorn’s sleeping habits continue to crack me up. Man lies flat on his back and conks out within seconds of lying down. I’m sorry but that’s hilarious

“‘Speak, Legolas!’ said Gandalf. ‘Tell us what you see there before us!’” Exposition Machine, go!

BRO?? “He is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell” was actually a line from SOME RANDOM GUARD AT EDORAS, and they gave it to Legolas, I’m HOWLING

Is Minas Tirith called “Mundburg” in the Rohirric language?? “Burg” means “city”, and I’m guessing “mund” might be “mound” like “tall/mountain”?? I’ll probably have to look at the appendices and check.

(Edit: Unless I am blind, I have checked the appendices and they didn’t say anything about this. Help??)

(Edit two: I have been informed that it DOES mean Minas Tirith! My only mistake was relying on Latin etymology. X-D [Although knowing Tolkien, I wouldn’t put it past him to construct a name using Latin root words and then go back and create an entire fictional etymology for it and go “no, see, this is what it REALLY means—”])

HAMAAAAAAAAAA

Okay lets-get-ready-to-ramble was very right, Aragorn’s hesitation to hand over Anduril is VERY funny. Expect a comic.

Movie!Gandalf: “Oh. *puppy dog eyes* You would not part an old man from his walking stick.” Book!Gandalf: “FOOLS. DISCOURTEOUS WRETCHES. I’M NOT BUDGING AN INCH WITHOUT MY STICK. THEODEN CAN DRAG HIMSELF OUT HERE TO MEET ME FOR ALL I CARE. THE INSOLENCE.”

Aragorn refuses to give up Anduril until Gandalf convinces him. This is Best Friend Energy. Two seconds later, Gandalf refuses to give up his staff, and Aragorn laughs at him. This is PEAK Best Friend Energy.

Theoden really told Gandalf “tbh I was glad you were dead”

Wormtongue insulted Galadriel and Gimli is immediately like “YOU WANNA FIGHT BRO”

DID GANDALF HIT GRIMA WITH LIGHTNING?? HELLO??? ROFLOLOL

“Wormtongue remained lying on the floor” ASDFGHJKLSJDDBK

MISS KIESHA. MISS KIESHA.

OH HE NEED SOME MILK

*BLASTS CARAMELLDANSEN OVER WORMTONGUE ON THE FLOOR*

Do you want more? I can go on.

Okay okay be serious, hooooo—

EOWYNNNNNNN

As far as I can tell, Theoden’s transformation in this chapter is a bit of a treatise on the power of words. Saruman’s magic worked through Grima’s words, over many long years, to poison Theoden’s mind and cripple his body. Gandalf’s healing, likewise, works through words; and though it takes effect far slower than in the movie, it’s remarkably quick compared to the poisoning. Theoden goes from hobbling out his door, to standing tall in the sunlight, to taking up his sword, to commanding his people, all because Gandalf said, “You can—and what’s more, you must.”

“Do not send your faithful Grima away!” Talking in third person again. Gollum, Gollum.

My favorite character in this chapter is the unnamed guard who scooped up water in his helmet to wash the stones Wormtongue spat on. You, sir, are my hero.

Gimli, about the horse emblazoned on his shield: “At least I’m the one carrying this horse instead of the other way around!”

Eowyn already thinks Aragorn is cute. That was fast.

“There is Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, [Eomer’s] sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord of the Eorlingas, while we are gone.” HAMA REALLY SAID “RESPECT WOMEN”

I like Eomer and Gimli’s friendly rivalry. More writing about that, please! It’s extremely funny.

Shadowfax running around on the plain while everyone else is busy planning things is a huge mood.

And NOW Gandalf throws off his cloak and reveals the white robes. So dramatic.

#gandalf #aragorn #legolas #gimli #theoden #king theoden #grima wormtongue #eowyn #eomer #shadowfax #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts #a surprising amount of funny moments from this chapter

[lesbiansforboromir]

Seeing these promo images for the Rohirrim anime makes me worry yet more that this and RoP will just be Pete Jackson film nostalgia bait that will not be willing to stray too far from his version of the setting. I just really want to see a middle earth on screen that isn’t just his.

Right I'm gonna use this to talk about the War of the Rohirrim since people seemed confused.

So this is an anime film that was announced quite a few months ago now. All we got was the title screen back then and a general synopsis; the film would be centering Helm Hammerhand, the ninth king of Rohan, and his war with the Dunlendings during the fell winter. We also already had confirmation that it was going to be basically a part of the Warner Bros cinematic universe, Phillipa Boyens is writing it in part and visually year it's gonna be the films, which I agree is depressing.

A quick recap for you all is that the Dunlendings had held Isengard for a long while by the time he became king, (Saruman not yet set up there) and there had been a lot of warring between them. Gram, Helm's father, had been killed in battle. Freca was the leader of these Dunlendings at the time, but he also claimed royal rohirric ancestry and made a bid to marry his son, Wulf, to Helm's daughter.

Negotiations started off very badly and ended with Helm punching Freca SO HARD he just DIED so. More war after that. Though it was four years before Wulf began his assault upon Rohan. Now! Admittedly I had forgotten they had in fact gained the direct support of the Corsairs AND the Easterlings whilst ALSO engaging the Haradrim to attack Gondor. So Rohan and Gondor were both doubly beleaguered at the same time as the Long Winter came down upon them (probably orchestrated by Sauron). Hence, Gondor could not immediately come to Rohan's aid. Haleth, (helms son) was killed defending Edoras and Helm's army was defeated at the crossings of the isen river, forcing him to retreat into Helms Deep (originally called Suthburg, renamed after Helm in honour of this whole debacle). He held out there under siege for? Many months, can't remember how many. Essentially just... blowing his horn, wandering into the enemy camp, killing a bunch of them and then leaving again. He became a kind of horror story to the dunlendings. His other son Hama was also killed, leaving only his nephew, Frealaf, son of his sister Hild.

Essentially, as soon as the snows died down, Beregond (son of Steward Beren) came to Frealaf's aid and drove out the last of the Dunlendings after winning his own war against the corsairs and haradrim. But Helm died before that, literally just freezing stiff in the middle of battle, left standing like a terrifying corpse warrior. LIKE... The story is depressing as all hell. But like... honestly I'm more interested in this period of history than I am in the second age, especially because Beregond's one of my favourite Stewards, I love this guy.

But so getting back to the point, recently we got some concept art for the film.

So these are both obviously here to portray the attack at Edoras, where Haleth dies. Originally I was very confused by the lack of snow and abundance of Mumakil. I'm still thoroughly confused by the Mumakil, the only reason the Corsairs got up there was because they sailed over and marched up the the isen fords. Can you bring Oliphants on ships?? Idk! I GUESS.meme!! But I dont think the long winter set in until later on in their... siege... or did it? My refusal to look this up is just because I am sleepy uwu ANYWAY! Yes you can easily see it's just PJ's lotr edoras with brown lands and rustic utterly unadorned base architecture. And the dunlendings all look miserably 'uncivilised' and 'barbaric' which is even more depressing. But it's a good expectation setter and I just... hope that perhaps... when/if I see Beregond I will not be made too sad. ;v;

#the war of the rohirrim #chats #tolkien #lotr #helm hammerhand

[miriel-therindes]

So I know that I love getting asks about my OCs and so, if this holds true for you, would you like to talk about Lopowen, Faenel or Turunís (or any combination of the three of them)? Or maybe give them each a colour palette, if that is more your thing!

Oh thank you for the ask!!!! I'm always delighted to ramble about my babies <3

My OCs masterlist

I talked a bit about Turunis previously in this post, but here's some more about her: -She's the daughter of two politicans (her mother is one of the Noldor and her father a Teleri). But in general she considers herself a Noldo, and that's who she grew up mainly with. -She's two years older than Curvo, so they're very close in age and were apprentices at the same time, and huge rivals, always vying for their teachers' approval. -Eventually they became friends, though they were still very competative. -They worked on projects together and invented some things -Turunis thrives on being around people, though she tends to be shortspoken and stoic -She's a very commanding person, who likes being in charge and getting her own way, though she's open to new ideas. She's fairly manipulative and can be charming when she wants to -She's a very *careful* person though and through, and will always play the long game -Unlike Curvo who sometimes...lacks impulse control and patience -She's very loyal to those who she has decided are Her People, and *very* protective, especially of Tyelpe -Finduilas is one of those people. After Finduilas’ mother dies she latches onto Turunis,   and Turunis took one look at her and went "oh, shit. i feel...love??? for Orodreth's brat??? uh;; guess i have another child now" , adds her to the list of Her People, and goes "I've only had this child for a day and a half but if anything happened to her I’d kill everyone in the room and then myself. -So Turunis becomes Finduilas' morally ambiguous adopted aunt  -As Finduilas grows older and Turunis' rapidly morally degenerates and mentally/emotionally breaks down their relationship does become somewhat strained over basic ethical conflict, aka Finduilas says "murder is not ok??" But Finduilas still loved Turunis despite how conflicted her feelings are and Turunis still would do absolutely Anything for Finduilas -After she and Curvo separate he and Finduilas is the two people she has left and she will do absolutely anything to make sure they’re safe, strained as their relationship might be -She dies in the fall of Nargothrond, trying to hold off Orcs with her spear to give Tyelpe and Finduilas more time -And it was not in vain, Tyelpe and several elf children with him managed to escape and flee to Gondolin -Finduilas was, however, taken captive while fleeing, and later pinned to that tree 

Turunis at the kinslaying of Sirion from this character creator

Colour palette for Turunis

There's some more of Faenel in this post, and here are some thoughts I have on her life after the War that I'm not sure I've posted here before:

-She becomes somewhat friends with Faramir in the aftermath, building a friendship over their shared grief. He can never convince her to like Aragorn, though. -She becomes very close friends with Eowyn as well! They meet because Faenel designs and sews Eowyn's wedding dress. -Faenel never went through exactly what Eowyn did, but she can somewhat relate to he crushing weight of duty and responsibility and fear. They help each other heal -Faenel often visits Ithilien to see her and make her clothes (Eowyn insists she shouldn't work on her free time, but Faenel is fascinated by the rohirric fashions and has fun combining those and gondorian styles for Eowyn, so she convinces Eowyn to let her design a few things for her on visits) -Eowyn also teaches Faenel to ride horses. She had never learned before because she lived in Minas Tirith and rarely travelled so there was little need to, but once she learned the basics she loves going on rides with Eowyn and Faramir -Miri and her husband live in another circle of Minas Tirith, but they come down to Faenel's shop for tea nearly every day. -They've all been so very hurt by the War, and Faenel no less, but she learns how to heal and build friendships out of sorrow and find new things to love.

Colour palette for Faenel

Lopowen is one of my newest OCs and she isn't very developed yet, she came into being this February when I was writing a leetle Valentine's day fluff for fun. But she’s a Teleri Elf who was childhood friends with Maglor and they later wed, not long before the Rebellion of the Noldor. She is a poet and storyteller, but a very grounded, practical person. She does go into exhile with the rebellion, but she’s horrified by the kinslaying at Sirion and furious at how Maglor went along with it, killing her own people. So she leaves the host of Feanor and joins that of Fingolfin, meaning that she’s left behind from the ships (Maglor is filled with rage at her and still burns the ships with his father and brother. When he realises that he had doomed her to the Helcaraxe, he regrets it.) She survives the Helcaraxe, and I’m not sure what happens to her in Beleriand yet. I think she might survive the first age, but I’m still working on her story :DD

Lopowen on the Helcaraxe from this character creator

#turunis aira #oc faenel #oc lopowen #my oc #colour palettes #mine #my scribbles #tolkien #silmarillion #lotr

[tilions]

The Gold Spinning Gnome

Ok bear with me here. This is a Rumpelstiltskin-esque spin on the story of Caranthir and Haleth. It's basically how I would imagine it being told in a Rohirric/Laketownish/Breelandish/Shire Household in the third age. And in what better way than a fairy tale?

I'm not in a very concentrated mood at the moment, so the translation (I have written this thing in German first) might read a little bit... weird. I hope you enjoy it regardless.

Once upon a time, long ago, in the kingdom of the faries, there lived a prince of the gnomes. Of all his many brothers, he was the richest and wealthiest, for he was a skilful trader and maintained good contacts with the dwarf kings of old. However, he was not particularly popular with the other inhabitants of the fairy kingdom, nor among those of his own kin, for he was neither fair of face nor did he have a good character. He was greedy, solitary and easily angered, and on top of that his face was always red, which is why he was called Prince Redface.

So it was that still many, many years ago the first human children came over the mountains from the dark east into the fairy kingdom. Their leader, a man named Haldad, was killed in an attack by goblins and with him many of their men. Now it was up to his daughter, Haleth to lead the people on to a new home. Haleth was a beautiful and proud woman, wise and skilled in battle. None of her men, however strong, could hold a candle to her in a fight and it is said that her personal guards consisted only of women whom she had handpicked.

On their way through the fairy realm, Haleth and her people passed through the lands of Prince Redface, who gave them a princely welcome and invited them to a banquet in his castle. This was not at all like him, for normally Prince Redface detested sharing his wealth with others and spending even a thaler on the smallest comforts, preferring to hoard his gold and jewels. But Prince Redface had his eye on Haleth and was quite enchanted by her beauty and strength.

He offered to take her and her people into his country and promised them a life in which they would want for nothing.

Haleth, however, did not trust the prince's friendly and promising words, for she could read other intentions in his eyes and in his presence she felt uneasy.

It was said that Prince Redface only gave away some of his money when he saw a woman in need and he could help her - but the prince did not do this out of goodwill or charity. He always demanded a price from the woman for his help: She would have to give up what was dearest to her, once she had gotten her half of the bargain.

Similar legends had also reached Haleth's people and they warned Haleth about the dubious intentions of her host, even asking her to leave these lands as soon as possible and not to get involved with the gnome.

When the Prince Redface repeated his offer on the day after the banquet, Haleth asked him:

"And what do you wish in return, Prince?"

"Your company here at my side, Lady Haleth," Prince Redface replied charmingly, a little of the red disappearing from his face, "I am lonely, but you are easy to talk to. That is all I ask, and your people would want for nothing."

Then Haleth asked for time to think, which the prince gladly granted, and she returned to her people. That night, in all secrecy, they set out and disappeared from the prince's castle and across the vast plains to the west, for for Haleth to keep the prince company would have meant giving up what was dearest to her, her freedom.

When the prince found out that Haleth and her people were gone, he pronounced a curse on her, that she would never find love or bear children, that her own line would end with her.

And so it came to pass, for when Haleth finally came to the end of her life and was old and grey, she had never found a partner to love dearly, nor had she brought any children of her own into the world. Yet her life had been fulfilled. Her people now lived in a land of birch forests and their clan grew and prospered without the assistance of a greedy prince, and her brother's son would become the leader of her people after her death.

Haleth got off a lot easier with her fate than other women to whom Prince Redface offered his help and who also accepted it. Oh, no, he did not deceive them, they always got what they were promised, because despite his faults, he was an honest man and kept his word. But if he did not get what he had asked for in return and what he had been promised, he became very displeased because of the deception. It was said that those women disappeared, without a trace and never to be seen again, and that Prince Redface spun gold from their hair high up in his castle to add to his mountain of riches. But the mistress Haleth, it is said, he never pursued, for even if he was angry with her and never forgave her disappearance, she had made no bargain with him and promised him nothing... besides, it is said that he really loved her.

Tolkien Folklore Reference Post

#the fairy kingdom is actually doriath but it's kinda been adapted to the whole of beleriand at this point #noldor are gnomes bc tolkien said so #idk what else to add #haleths name remained the same #so did caranthirs i guess #if you're familiar with rumpelstiltskin you might see the parallels #also i dont know why rumpelstiltskin is caranthir now #it sort of happened #tolkien #silmarillion #feanorians #caranthir #haleth #haleth x caranthir #my writing #middle earth folklore #silmfic #lotr fic #tolkien elves #my head is killing me #I'm going to bed night bye

[morwensteelsheen]

I’m home alone and bored so I’ve revamped my next-gen HCs for the houses of Húrin/Telcontar/Eorl mk. 2/Dol Amroth.

Húrin:

Faramir and Éowyn are first to produce an heir because they are nothing if not efficient.

They have twins: Elboron and Théodwyn (I like the name less and less with each passing day—also not sold on Morwen, am considering a swap to Andreth or Saelind for ~reasons~)

The twins are born in FO 1, three years after the end of the war, two years after Faramir and Éowyn are married

They’re each very much like their parents: Elboron inherits his father’s proclivity for melodrama and his mother’s sense of duty, Théodwyn his love of learning and her never-take-no-for-an-answer attitude.

Elboron inherits Éowyn’s blonde hair, Théodwyn Faramir’s black, both are taller than Éowyn (who, I should remind everyone, is not short) by the time they’re sixteen. Éowyn makes out that she’s furious about it, but secretly loves it

Both have a slightly reduced turbo-charged Númenórean vibe, but it’s still very much there. It’s more obvious with Théodwyn because she leans into it more aggressively, Elboron, by contrast, likes that people still think he’s ~exotic~ for looking more Rohirric, so tries to play that up. He grows into embracing it later in life.

Théodwyn hauls ass out to Harad the first chance she gets—it’s a Whole Thing for the family, but Éowyn’s already quite sensitive to not making her kids feel trapped, and Faramir’s quite content to get as many people as possible in on his anti-war crusade, so he does eventually get over his panic at her going.

She meets her future husband there, though it takes them several years to seal the deal. They have a quieter sort of courtship, Théodwyn has no interest in being compared to her parents, and feels like she finds a kindred spirit in Bijan in terms of the balance of practicality vs individuality.

After they marry (in Harad, again, it’s a Whole Thing), they return to Ithilien for a time, and then move to Minas Tirith so they can each play politics

Elboron, meanwhile, goes out on one of Aragorn’s imperial wars (to Rhûn, imo), expecting he’ll love it, only to discover that, ah, yes, his parents were in fact right about war sucking ass.

He immediately begs for—and is given—a semi-diplomatic position in the Northern Kingdom.

He falls in love and has it bad for one of the daughters of the Rangers of the North. He, à la pops, plays up the drama 100%, and Ilmarë loves it, because she feels like Gondor is so trendy and established and that the Northern Kingdom doesn’t have the same pizzazz.

They marry in Ithilien but immediately return to the North for a few years; a few of their children are born in the North.

Telcontar:

I think, as is the fanon standard, there are three daughters born to Aragorn and Arwen before Eldarion comes along.

The first daughter, Míriel, is born Summer 3020. Second and third are born quickly thereafter, Arwen is basically pregnant constantly between Autumn 3019 and FO 5.

This complicates things re: her father leaving M-E. There’s drama.

Eldarion is born Spring FO 3, and then A+A’s last daughter and then second son, (named Fintherion) are born three and five years after that. RIP to Arwen’s pelvic floor.

There’s a lot of outside pressure on Míriel and Elboron to get married, even from their youngest years, but their parents are incredibly hardline on not letting that happen—Míriel takes a broad Fuck Marriage position, whereas Elboron takes the far more politically-aware approach of “even if I did (I don’t), someone would murder one of us if that marriage was attempted, it’s too much concentrated power”.

They still end up as quite close friends, and egg on each others’ penchant for melodrama, which is cute when they’re kids, but starts to get them in trouble when they’re older.

Eldarion grows up like Emma Woodhouse, spoiled but extremely charming and clever. He has the entire Emma plot line with one of Éomer and Lothíriel’s daughters, and they’re married basically without a hitch.

Unnamed Daughter #2 marries Bard II of Dale—this is mostly a political thing; Unnamed Daughter #3 very astutely marries one of the sons of a lord of Gondor (I’m thinking Lebennin); Fintherion doesn’t marry; Unnamed Daughter #4 marries a northern lord (sort of political sort of not, she just wants to get the fuck out of Gondor)

The kids generally end up in this weird social space when they’re growing up where their closet pals end up being Éomer and Lothíriel’s kids and the kids of other various lords who set up camp in Minas Tirith. The Húrinionath are sort of isolationists in Ithilien because of how much work there is to do there and because Arwen and Aragorn end up quite difficult to socialise with.

Eorl mark 2

Éomer and Lothíriel marry in TA 3021—this is a semi-arranged political marriage. Éomer doesn’t give a shit one way or the other about marriage, Lothíriel has been raised to see marriage as an important political tool, so is earnestly only interested in it in that regard.

They, like Aragorn and Arwen, go through a lot of daughters before they get to Elfwine.

Their first daughter is born FO 1, then there’s a gap until the next daughter is born in FO 3. Then there’s one daughter a year until Elfwine is born in FO 8. There are no more children after that.

It’s daughter number three that marries Eldarion.

The kids are raised in both the language of the Mark and Sindarin. Lothíriel ends up compared with some frequency to Morwen Steelsheen, though never earns an epithet of her own.

The kids actually don’t spend an enormous amount of time at Dol Amroth—given that Éomer is the king and therefore wildly outranks Imrahil (and later Elphir), it’s the Dol Amroth brood who have to visit them. They routinely split the difference and just meet in Minas Tirith, EXCEPT when Éomer goes off to war while the kids are still young, then the older kids are sent to Dol Amroth while the younger kids remain in Edoras with Lothíriel

To Lothíriel’s chagrin (and Éomer’s delight) the kids mostly marry within the Mark, bar daughter #3 who marries Eldarion.

Clan Dol Amroth

They do their very best to stay the fuck away from the northern families. The Hurinionath spend a decent amount of time in Dol Amroth when they can, but there’s no attempts to marry any of them off to one another—or of making that bargain with Aragorn and Arwen’s kids.

Imrahil does try. Éowyn occasionally helps (vis a vis Aragorn’s kids) because she’s a shameless shit-stirrer.

Alphros has two younger brothers born after the war, no sisters

Erchirion never marries, plays Did You Know I’m A War Hero for life, to great success. Spends a lot of time at sea, likes showing up in Edoras or Emyn Arnen unannounced with things to rile up the kids.

Amrothos marries the daughter of a Belfalan vassal lord. He’s gay, she’s gay, it works out great for them. They spend a lot of time travelling together—of all of the folks mentioned, they’re the ones that get to take the fullest advantage of the Reunited Kingdom. They go from Mithlond to Dale and Near Harad and have a grand old time of it.

#e writes #im so sorry for this im just so bored #hc #e hc #Húrin #telcontar #eorl #Éowyn #Faramir #elboron #isilmë #eldarion #elfwine

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

4, 27, and 47 for the LOTR asks :)

yussssss more LOTR questions :D

4. Which scene always makes you cry?

Oh god, what scene doesn't make me cry??

Boromir's death, obviously. Sam's speech about hope in TTT always makes me cry. If I'm in a weepy mood already, Gandalf and Frodo's conversation in Moria about the Pity of Bilbo will get me wet about the eyes.

I do some happy excited wet-about-the-eyes for almost every single one of Theoden's rallying speeches. (Bernard Hill is a gift.)

Also, I get some heart twinges and go hurrrrrrnnnnng my soul during the "And do you trust your king / where is the horse and the rider" scene with a close second of "you were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan!" because Theoden has a beautiful soul and I love him.

27. Weapon of choice?

Longbow! Hands down. Close second of sword - but Narsil style not Rohirric style. I don't have a specific named weapon that I'm partial to.

Oh, of course, Grima's terrifying looking knife that would Fuck You Up.

Grima: I ... do... a stabby stab??

Theoden: We're not stabbing people today.

Grima: mk. Tomorrow then? I'll be discreet. Alleyway, in the back, he won't know who did it.

Theoden:

Theoden: no.

47. Character that scares you the most?

TOM BOMBADIL. FUCK TOM BOMBADIL. TOM BOMBADIL FREAKS ME OUT. I don't trust that spooky, yellow boot wearing creep. He is up to something, mark me.

Older and greater than most of the powerful beings and he is here. Watching. Waiting. Biding his time.

Until one day... he strikes.

And no one will see it coming.

-

Thank you!! <3 <3

lotr ask meme

#lotr #lord of the rings #fuck tom bombadil #ask #ask meme #reply #lotr ask meme

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #lotr fanfiction #eomer #éomer #faramir #boromir #theodred #théodred #brothers #making up words #middle earth languages #brotherly bonding #divider by saradika #the rohirrim are such horse dorks #y’all of course i’m gonna put théodred in anything i can!

[theemightypen]

Fic Interview Meme

Tagged by my beloved @cosmonauthill and dear @eidetictelekinetic, thanks bbs <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

25!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

395,889 most of which is Too Wise haha kill me

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Unsurprisingly: 

Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien

 A Song of Ice and Fire, George R.R. Martin

Marvel Cinematic Universe

DC Extended Universe

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Lackadaisy

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Too Wise to Peaceably Woo, aka the never-ending fic centered around Eomer and Lothiriel’s courtship and eventual marriage

by this hand I do love thee, which is just a collection of various Eothirel oneshots that often feature other familiar faces from LOTR

with urgency but not with haste, probably my favorite venture into the MCU, where Steve gets actual character development and friends and eventually a hot girlfriend

righteous in wrath, aka my faves going to bone town because Lothiriel finds Eomer SUPER hot when defending people from assholes

heavy handed, or the fic where Aragorn and Arwen are revealed to be the biggest trolls in Middle Earth

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I’m so bad about it though I don’t mean to be! Usually I’ll respond to a chunk of them in random bursts. I do really, really appreciate people who review though. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

And I’d do anything to make you stay, no question. I blame Niamh for telling me I couldn’t write angst. 

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

On occasion! My personal favorite is eadem sidus, where Thor and Diana know each other from childhood :) 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not so much hate as much as people trying to tell me how I should or shouldn’t be writing a story. Which, tbh, I find more annoying than outright hate. 

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do! It’s been a bit, but usually it’s got quite a bit of passion or longing of some variety behind it. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Just the once. The person was uh. In major denial about having plagiarized my work, but AO3 solved that right quick. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not! But I would be flattered. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Niamh and I have been hurting ourselves with working on a fic for about 5 years now. Eventually we’ll hurt you all too!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

By virtue of volume of what I’ve written, I guess it’s Eothiriel? But I have a soft spot for many a ship. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Honestly anything ASOIAF related. The show thoroughly killed my interest in writing for that fandom. 

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and I’ve been told world-building, which is very kind. 

What are your writing weaknesses?

Being overly detailed, plotting feasible travel times, and I think over-romanticizing my male leads?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Usually I write it in English, unless it’s in a language I feel decently proficient in--the exception being “Old English” that I use as a stand-in for Rohirric, because I doubt I’m offending anyone by using super old words. I refuse to write it in an “accent” because that has all kinds of ooky racist/classist implications, and we all know Google Translate is shit. I will sometimes take one word and have it in a different language, especially if it’s a pet name or a curse.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Had to go back to ye olde FF.net for verification, but it turns out it was (unsurprisingly) LOTR. 

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

God, that’s a hard one, but I think I’m really quite proud of Legacy (what is a legacy)

tagging: @heckofabecca @lesbiansforboromir and anyone else who wants to??

#my writing #will this maybe inspire me to finally write something again??? maybe so!! #writing things

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Leithian Reread - Canto VI (Beren in Nargothrond)

While The Leithian-related plot of this canto focuses on Beren in Nargothrond, almost the first half of it is a brief summary of the Silmarillion from Return of the Noldor through to the Dagor Bragollach. Which I love, since those events for the most part aren’t coverered in Tolkien’s other poetic works, and I prefer the poetry structure of the Leithian to Tolkien’s other (non-rhyming, more Rohirric-sounding) pieces of epic poetry.

This is a good place to note, for readers who are new to the poetic Leithian, that some names are different from the Silm (Tolkien started a revised version with Silm-consistent names, but he didn’t get very far with it). The Noldor are referred to as the Gnomes - a rough transliteration of their elvish name into a human language, drawing from the Greek for ‘knowledge’. Tolkien later rejected this on the basis that the word was already too associated with entirely different mental images, but given how transformative his use of ‘elves’ was (typical fantasy elves are now almost all inspired by his ideas of tall, beautiful, long-lived immortals), we might have completely different concepts of ‘gnome’ now if he’s gone ahead with it. 

The second big diiference is that Finrod is referred to exclusively as Felagund - his Dwarven honorific - whereas his father Finarfin is referred to as Finrod. Tolkien had a lot of difficulty with Finarfin’s name and it went through a pile of different iterations. There are also other minor differences, like Finwë being referred to as Finn.

Returning to the poem - it’s hard to pick a favourite part of the summary section; I love so much of it. This is the closest I’m ever going to get to the Noldolantë (Tolkien wrote a couple pages of another poem focusing on the Return of the Noldor, but I don’t like it as much).

The mists were mantled round the towers

of the Elves’ white city by the sea.

There countless torches fitfully

did start and twinkle, as the Gnomes

were gathered to their fading homes

and thronged the wide and winding stair

that led to the wide echoing square.

There Fëanor mourned his jewels divine,

the Silmarils he made. Like wine

his wild and potent words them fill;

a great host hearkens deathly still.

But all he said both wild and wise

half truth and half the fruit of lies

that Morgoth sowed in Valinor

in other songs and other lore

recorded is.

There’s such a wonderful sense of place and of mood in those lines; the Return of the Noldor has always been one of the most compelling parts of the Silmarillion for me. In the same way that Elves have a different sense of time than Men, Valar must have a different sense of it than Elves; they’re acting, but within their own sense of time, and for the Noldor, in the wake of the Darkening, the desire to do something rather than wait around for the Valar (who are looking more deeply fallible than they ever have before) to fix things must be extremely powerful. And Fëanor’s presence and words and fury, brought into that environment, is like fire to oil. To be active and purposeful in the face of disaster, rather than passive and directionless - that’s a powerful force. The poem also acknowledges that Fëanor’s not entirely wrong (“half truth and half the fruit of lies”), however deeply distorted his ideas about both the Valar and the Secondborn are. As I’ve said before, I think that Eru intended for the Elves to be in Middle-earth, not Valinor; the entire Leithian is centred around the value and importance of an elf-human relationship that continues to affect the history of Arda down through the Third Age (and, in its symbolic meaning, even further).

There’s also a line about the Oath: Who calls these names in witness may not break his oath, though earth and heaven shake. The texts on the Oath are somewhat contradictory on its breakability, though they are united on its importance and severity (it is decidedly not just words, or something that can be casually laid aside). The Silmarillion says “so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world’s end”. But that contradicts itself - it it can’t be broken, then there can’t be oathbreakers. Maedhros and Maglor’s final conversation at the end of the Silm is more illuminating to me: it’s not a matter of the Oath being physically or psychologically impossible to break (if it was, how did they go the 400 years of the Siege of Angband without actively attacking Morgoth?), but of fearing the fate they have called down upon themselves (the Everlasting Darkness) if they do break it. (Plus a lot of sunk cost fallacy, by that point.) Which is considerably less sympathetic: murdering innocent people in order to avoid the consequences of your own bad decision is, ultimately, the choice that innocents should bear the cost of your own choices, which is ultimately a form of cowardice. (Not to mention the inherently contradictory nature of saying “I’m going to do evil so that I won’t be damned,” which Maglor eventually realizes.)

(More of my thoughts on the Oath here.)

This is also one of the few texts we have that actually states the Oath (or rather, part of it; the invocations are not included) rather that describing it. I think all the ones we have are in Tolkien’s poetry; there’s no prose version.

The Kinslaying is not mentioned in this Canto; that’s saved for the Duel of Felagund and Sauron in the next one. But this canto does include possibly the only poetic rendition we get of Fingon rescuing Maedhros from Thangorodrim:

Fingon daring alone went forth

and sought for Maidros where he hung;

in torment terrible he swung,

his wrist in band of forgéd steel,

from a sheer precipice where reel

the dizzy senses staring down

from Thangorodrim’s stony crown.

The song of Fingon Elves yet sing,

captain of armies, Gnomish king...

They sing how Maidros free he set,

and stayed the feud that slumbered yet

between the children proud of Finn.

After describing the Siege of Angband and the Long Peace, the narrative moves on to the Dagor Bragollach, and specifically Barahir’s rescue of Felagund. (And in this account, as in the Silm, Orodreth is Felagund’s brother, not his nephew.) From there, it returns to the main story and Beren’s arrival in Nargothrond. It could not be more different than his reception in Menegroth:

When the ring [of Barahir] was seen

they bowed before him, though his plight

was poor and beggarly...

Fair were the words of Narog’s king

to Beren, and his wandering

and all his feuds and bitter wars

recounted soon.

Regarding Felagund’s fulfillment of his Oath to Barahir, and the betrayal by Celegorm and Curufin, and the abandonment by the Elves of Nargothrond, I’ve already written a fair bit in my (much earlier) posts on Finrod & Nargothrond and Celegorm & Curufin. I’ll add a few additional points here.

First, I do not think it was irresponsible of Felagund to leave Nargothrond to go with Beren. If his presence as king of Nargothrond was important (and I think it was; basically all of Nargothrond’s decisions after he leaves are bad, and he’s been the peacemaker and diplomat between different elven and human groups throughout the Silmarillion up to this point) that is all the more reason why Nargothrond is indebted to Barahir and his descendents, since Felagund would already be dead if not for Barahir’s actions.

Secondly - and I’m getting this from Philosopher at Large’s Leithian Script, which emphasizes it very heavily - Felagund, as liege-lord to the Bëorings, has certain obligations to them even outside of his oath, including providing military assistance in times of need. Usual chains of communication have been cut since the Bragollach, so Felagund’s only just now finding out that the Bëorings have, aside from Beren, been basically exterminated; and that Barahir and later Beren spent years fighting a very long-odds guerrilla war without ever asking or recieving assistance, while Nargothrond was safe and largely inactive. This is going to strongly enhance Felagund’s (legitimate) sense of indebtedness to Barahir’s kin.

Thirdly, Celegorm is often treated as something of a meathead (because he acts like one; all his decisions are terrible in both moral and practical terms), but this sequence makes it clear that both he and Curufin inherited their father’s rhetorical abilities; his speech is specifically compared to Fëanor’s speech in Tirion (Many wild and potent words he spoke, and as before in Tûn awoke his father’s voice their hearts to fire, so now dark fear and brooding ire he cast on them...) But ironically, the direction of Curufin’s speech is opposite to Fëanor’s - while Fëanor’s was about rallying the Noldor to fight Morgoth, Curufin’s is about discouraging them from fighting Morgoth, by frightening them, and he does it so effectively that it’s unlikely Nargothrond would have showed up at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad even without the additional motivation of being furious at the brothers. And continuing on that theme, the brothers are setting themselves against the first real attempt anyone has ever made to regain the Silmarils from Morgoth. A mission that resulted in Beren and Lúthien having one Silmaril, and the Fëanorians having the other two, would obviously be better in terms of their goals than all three remaining in Morgoth’s posession, but they don’t appear to even consider it. This is part of a long thread throughout the Silmarillion - every action taken directly in service to the Oath aids Morgoth and harms the Eldar.

The people of Nargothrond, by the way, really do not come off well here - they’re rejecting their king for someone who has just threatened violence against them all (Celegorm’s speech is basically threatening them with another Kinslaying here and now).

And as a final point - what Celegorm and Curufin do here is one of the worst crimes imaginable within their society. The sacredness of the relationship between guests and hosts (and they are guests in Nargothrond, having fled there from the Bragollach) is a major theme in a lot of pre-modern societies. People familiar with A Song of Ice and Fire will remember its importance there; for a more historical source, Dante places ‘traitors to guests and hosts’ in the ninth circle of hell in the Divine Comedy and goes beyond that to state that people who betray their guests or hosts go directly to hell even before they die, while their body becomes inhabited by a demon for the rest of their life. From this betrayal, to the usurpation of Nargothrond, to the attempted rape of Lúthien, to the attempted murder of Lúthien, to Celegorm’s servants leaving Eluréd and Elurín - young children - to die of exposure, everything we see from the brothers from this point on is them committing crimes that are literally unthinkable to elves. Which is to say that the Eldar might have found Dante’s explanation pretty credible.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fëanor #sons of fëanor #beren #finrod #celegorm #curufin #nargothrond #oath of feanor #lay of leithian #leithian reread

[rohirric-hunter]

Léonys of Rohan Pt. 5

Part 1 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 10

Welcome to “That Scene”, insomuch as “That Scene” is going to make it into this fic. Most of this conversation was written well over a year ago, in terms of what-ifs and how-fors before I was even certain Candaith was going to die (though naturally I had my suspicions when he became the PC’s main window into Dúnedain history and culture). This is a heavily edited version of the original conversation, if nothing else Léonys’ personality has been developed heavily since I first wrote this. It’s also the moment where I basically fully depart from game canon with regards to Léonys herself: as previously established she stays with the Grey Company after the Fords and from here on out the main quest falls into the hands of other OCs until at least after Pelennor.

If I needed an excuse to keep Candaith alive, this conversation would be it. I tried it with other rangers, before I was certain I wanted to AU that aspect of the game, but it didn’t really work with any of them, except Halros, but even then it was shaky and awkward.

                        ***

This is how it is to be Léonys of Rohan: 

You recognize Candaith melting out of the woods ahead of you by the way he raises his hand in silent greeting. He is framed against the last rays of the setting sun, piercing through the thick woods of southern Dunland. You return the gesture, fingers numb with cold. Though you crossed the Fords of Isen hours ago, its chill waters still seem to permeate your clothing, from the thick boots on your feet to your grey hood.

When last you had passed this way, you had gone unhooded, flaunting the golden hair and blue eyes that marked your Rohirric descent before anyone who dared judge you for them.

Behind the ranger, the road narrows, and you dismount. Your horse is beautiful, a blonde mare, both larger and more powerful than any horse you've seen in Bree-land, but she is not Thadden, who lies behind you in the Ford, in honor. You hate her a little for that.

Candaith's eyes are all that you can see of his face, but they soften as you approach, harsh wrinkles melting away. "Hail," he quietly greets you. "What news from Rohan?"

You pause, hands tightening instinctively on the reigns. "Rohan will fall," you whisper, and your voice cracks. "Her prince is dead. Saruman has the ear of the King, and he will listen to no one else. All who speak against the Worm are banished, scattered on her borders, and already Saruman marches against the Westfold. There is no help that can come in time."

"And Aragorn?" Candaith asks, falling into step beside you as you start down the path.

"No word." Candaith's face falls visibly, even past the mask that hides his features. "But I traveled only as far as Edoras, and no further. He may not yet have come there."

"Then there is hope," Candaith says, and you cast your eyes to the ground. Your words were born of a desire to comfort, a habitual rejection of hopelessness, not from a genuine belief that the chief of the Dúnedain might actually be close at hand.

"Why did you travel no further than Edoras?" Candaith asks.

"I am among the banished," you say. "I spoke out in Meduseld, in the Golden Hall, denouncing Saruman for his crimes, and I am no longer welcome in Rohan."

"That was unwise," Candaith says. "If what you say is true, you might have been killed for less."

"So I must stand by in silence while my -- while the people of Rohan allow that accursed wizard to destroy them?"

You can see little of Candaith's face, but his shoulders tense slightly. "Did I say that?" His own words are chosen carefully. "I wish only for you to live to see your people prosper once more."

"They are no longer my people," you say, taking several quick steps to lead you ahead of the ranger. "They never were my people. They do not know me, and I do not know them. They do not want me or my warnings -- warnings which even the tribes of Dunland heeded! Their foolishness will be their downfall, and if that is what they want, then let them fall."

Candaith puts on an effortless burst of speed and steps in front of you, bringing you to a halt. "Léonys," he says. "Do not say such things. You do not mean them."

"I do," you insist. "They have cast me out and I will honor that."

He reaches out and takes your free hand in his, purposefully meeting your eyes. "And when you do, and their land is laid to waste by Saruman, what then? When they have all fallen and nothing lies between Isengard and the Anduin but slaves and Orcs and ruined towns, will you look over it and know that you chose rightly?"

"I'm not like you," you say, pulling your hand away. “I’m not a Ranger.”

"Then why do you wear the garb of one?" Candaith asks.

You open your mouth to declare your fealty to Strider -- to Aragorn -- to swear that you had come at his call to aid only him, but the words seem to catch in the mask cleverly stitched into your grey hood.

"How can I fight for Rohan, if I cannot pass its borders?" you whisper.

"What holds you back? Has Saruman's devilry flooded the Isen?" His voice softens. "They need not be your people, but people they are and remain. The duty of the Dúnedan -- and both Halbarad and our chieftain Aragaron have honored you with that title -- is to defend all free people, and ensure that they remain free."

“Even if they do not wish to be free?” you snap.

Candaith laughs then, a soft sound in the darkness of the woods around you. “I do not mock you,” he says, raising a hand placatingly. “But do you truly believe that I do not understand the toil of fighting for the safety of people who do not desire my aid?”

You pause, and then laugh yourself, a breathy, sort of desperate sound. You start walking again, eager to make the Grey Company’s camp and put some distance between yourself and the encroaching darkness. “You’re in no position to tell me not to say things that could get me killed,” you tell Candaith as you walk.

He does not laugh, but you hear the smile in his voice. “Perhaps it is you who ought to listen to the voice of experience,” he says.

The two of you fall into silence as you slowly walk northward, letting the southernmost spur of the Misty Mountains cut you off from Isengard and Rohan. Ahead of you, to the north, lies Tâl Methedras and Tûr Morva nestled beneath it. A dim flicker of firelight shows between the trees where the Grey Company have made their camp, on a spur of land first held by Théodred of Rohan, a pool of light and relative safety in the midst of lands strange and hostile to you. You miss Hathellang, his steady reassurance and quiet acceptance of whoever and whatever you insisted upon being, but he is far away, you know not where.

What comfort is to be found in the long night is found in this: the men and women you travel with, the Dúnedain of the North, will not become what has been done to them. Among them you are neither an enemy nor a traitor: you are Léonys, and for that you are loved and respected.

Part 1 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 10

#lotr #lotro #lord of the rings #lord of the rings online #lord of the rings online fanfiction #lotr oc #leonys of rohan

[councilofelrond]

Random Uruk-hai headcanons

They all speak Rohirric but they mix it with Orcish and no one understands them or their accents

The older they are the more Rohirric inspiration there is for their names

A few can ride horses extremely well

The oldest of them would be around thirty during the War of the Ring

Lurtz is actually short for Stêorlêas which is a name from a random translation website that is supposed to mean ‘wild’.

There are female Uruk-hai they just are hard to distinguish

The oldest of a group is the leader

Lurtz is actually Saruman’s first successful Uruk and he’s…not quite perfect because of this

The movies? Never heard of them so he’s actually more tall and lean than huge but he’s tall and lean in the extremely intimidating way a lot of Orcs from Gundabad are/some of the Rohirrim are

None of the regular Orcs can understand a word these idiots say their accents are that thick

They also tend towards lower voices so it’s very rare to find people who are tenors/sopranos we only have alto/baritone/bass here thanks

In their collective opinion, Saruman can die in the Void but he doesn’t know they think that because he’s too narcissistic

Sauron very nearly had Saruman killed when he found out about how the Uruk-hai (MOST OF WHOM ARE UNDER THE AGE OF SIXTEEN which is the age of majority in Mordor) were treated. In his way of thinking Saruman was sending people who were underage to war and child soldiers are just Not A Thing in Mordor because there are plenty of able-bodied adults who take up the job.

Most Uruk-hai form extremely tight-knit packs and rarely know who their parents are but they will know who their siblings/half-siblings are if they have any

A few have kids! That they have to hide, because Saruman can and will steal babies to be speed-grown into soldiers

It is unfortunately common for very young Uruks to die or have kids because biologically they’re adults and are meant to be violent.

A couple speak some kind of Elvish but only the older ones and this is because a ruckus of Balrogs (yes that is indeed what they are called I’ve decided) came through once

Overall they tend to be pretty pack-oriented to the point of getting violent if they are separated from those they consider family

More than one person has died trying to break up a pack

They are incredibly sarcastic and nihilistic as a whole because of their awful situation

Someone *cough* Lurtz *cough* once got close to killing Saruman but never did because of They Will Kill My Little Sister reasons

I LOVE THEM THEY NEED TO HAVE MORE WRITTEN ABOUT THEM

#Uruk-hai #Isengard #Saruman #Orcs #Lurtz #Rohan #Rohirric #lotr #Lord of the Rings #headcanons #Tolkien #Neely spews words