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madamebaggio · 9 months

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Notes: Previously...

SMUT STARTS HERE! (Just so you know)

***

Chapter 4

‘Suffer through the process’?

Boring? Awkward?

CHAFFING TO THE THIGHS?

��My lord?”

Well, she was right about him not having the greatest of times either, but… Boring?

Suffer?

“My lord?”

“Suffer?”

“My lord?”

Only then he realised he’d spoken out loud and there were other people around him.

Éomer cleared his throat. “I am sorry. Please, continue.”

The men around the table exchanged concerned looks, but the one who’d been talking carried on.

Right. Those were important topics, he had to pay attention.

Éomer hadn’t expected the Council to pounce on him as they did. It was like they’d been waiting for him behind a pillar, and jumped as soon as he stepped back in Edoras.

He hadn’t been gone that long.

Had he?

He forced himself to pay attention to what was being said. Those were relevant things that he had to focus on as a king. He hadn’t been gallivanting around the Mark -he was very much aware of the responsibilities he had as its ruler.

He just tended to avoid Edoras… And his wife.

Who wanted a child but found the process boring.

That was humbling.

Éomer focused on the rest of the meeting as crops and future harvest were discussed. Things seemed to be going well for the first time since the war and it looked like the harvest would be plentiful.

He felt relief washing over him like a wave. Taking over a country ravaged by war hadn’t been easy, but he’d never leave his people to suffer more than they’d already had. The Mark and its people deserved peace and comfort.

The first year after the war ended it felt as if this would be impossible. The scars left by Sauron and Saruman ran too deep, the land looked barren. It had pained him -more than he’d like to admit -to depend on Aragorn’s help on that first year. Not that the other King would ever think less of Éomer because of it, or because he was too proud to ask for help.

No, it’d pained him, because Éomer felt insufficient. He wasn’t supposed to be the king. Théodred was born for this, raised for this. It was incredibly unfair that he’d die…

Well, life wasn’t fair, was it?

Théodred had died waiting for him to arrive. Théoden had died on the battlefield. Éomer was left to rule the Mark.

He’d never felt so lost in his life.

However, he now had other concerns.

“Fultor.” He called one of the councilmen, a man who’d served his uncle.

The old man turned to him and arched an eyebrow. “My King?”

Fultor had been of great help after Éomer found himself as a ruler. He was also one of the -very- few who’d supported the idea of him marrying Lothíriel.

“How is my wife?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows climbed high on his face. “Have you not seen the Queen?”

Éomer sighed. “Yes, I have. But I want to hear from you.”

Fultor gave the king a long look, then sighed. “She fares well. Queen Lothíriel is intelligent, kind and dedicated to her duties. She has come a long way since she arrived here.”

Éomer nodded. Then cleared his throat. Then scratched his beard. “Has she…”

Fultor waited for the King to finish his sentence, and waited a bit more.

Éomer tried again. “Has she…” He cleared his throat again. “I have been gone quite a bit.”

“You have.” Fultor agreed way too fast.

Éomer narrowed his eyes. “I hope the Queen has not… Has anyone gotten too close to her in my absence?”

Fultor frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Is there a man…”

“My King. I will stop you there.” Fultor told him seriously. “And I will do you the favour of pretending I did not understand what you were about to ask me. You do your Queen a disservice by even wondering about such a thing.”

Éomer pressed his lips together. “You are right. Thank you.”

Fultor left and Éomer wished he’d just told the man why he was wondering such a thing to begin with. Since… His lovely wife had suggested she’d find another man.

She did say she wasn’t serious about that part.

He still felt entitled to be angry about it.

Éomer had no idea his wife could be this infuriating.

To be honest, he didn’t know much about his wife. Except for the fact she could drive him mad with just one letter and that she found lovemaking boring.

One of those things he could remedy.

***

Éomer entered their chambers and found his wife plaiting her hair. She threw him a look over her shoulder. “My lord?”

“Let us do this.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Really? Good.” She put her brush down and went to the bed.

If this wasn’t his wife and the sad state of their marriage, Éomer would actually find it funny how she laid down on her back, smoothed down her nightgown and stared at the ceiling. As this was his wife and their bed, he felt even more determined to do this.

He kicked off his boots and used the basin to wash his face and hands, before tying his hair back. He climbed on the bed, and settled his body over hers.

“We are doing this differently today.” He declared to her.

Lothíriel frowned. “Differently?”

“Yes.” He kissed her.

Éomer had kissed his wife before - obviously - but all of those kisses had been perfunctory. A kiss at their wedding and soft kisses in bed.

He’d never taken the time to properly seduce his wife in their bed. As much as he’d been insulted that Lothíriel used words such as ‘boring’ and ‘awkward’ to describe this, he couldn’t deny his part in the process. She’d been completely innocent when they married - hardly knew about what went on between husband and wife. He should’ve taught her, he should’ve taken his time better.

It was what he’d do now. He’d take his time, he’d show her.

Éomer kissed Lothíriel firmly. He let himself feel the softness of her lips, her breath against his. He pulled back. “Open your mouth, let me kiss you deeper.”

She was blushing, her hands on his shoulder, a frown on her face. “I… What are you…”

“We are doing this properly.” He declared, before sweeping down to kiss her again.

She gasped against his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Éomer gentled the kiss even more, showing her how to kiss him back. At first, Lothíriel was hesitant and careful, but at some point she got it.

That was when things changed.

At the first touch of his tongue, she mewled softly, pressed back hesitantly. Once she figured out how to kiss him back, how to tease his tongue with hers, when she realised she enjoyed when he bit her lower lip, Lothíriel threw herself into the kiss. She put her arms around his neck, sighed into his mouth.

Éomer had never seen her like this, never tasted her like this. The woman in his arms moaned sweetly against his lips and couldn’t get enough of him.

It felt as if this was the first time they’d ever kissed, ever had their bodies pressed together like this. He hadn’t noticed before how still she normally was in bed, until he felt her writhing underneath him then.

Sudden hunger took him over and he wanted nothing more than to drown in it. However, he had something to do.

He moved his hand down her body and pulled her nightgown up -just enough to get his hand under it. He’d touched Lothíriel before, because he didn’t want to hurt her - he wasn’t a monster - but he now knew he’d never given it the proper attention. It was always just something to move along the process.

This time, when his hand reached her cunt, he planned on making her melt.

His finger circled her clit and Lothíriel startled. “What…?”

“It is fine. Let me.” He whispered against her lips. “You will like it.”

She frowned, like she couldn’t even conceive what he was saying. He would show her.

Éomer used his fingers to make slow and steady circles on her clit.

“Oh my!” She gasped, a gentle shiver shaking her body. “What is…” Éomer kissed his queen again, swallowing her next words.

He took his time playing with her, until she could barely keep quiet and her hips started seeking his fingers. When he slid his fingers lower he found her wet and ready for more.

Éomer slid a finger inside her and her hips bucked against him. “Éomer.” She called softly against his mouth, too distracted for proper kisses, face flushed.

He was taken in by the look on Lothíriel’s face, the warmth of her body, the sounds she was making.

Éomer pushed another finger into her and then used the heel of his hand to put pressure on her clit. Her back came out of the mattress and he swallowed Lothíriel’s moan with his mouth.

He gave her no respite as he finger-fucked her and sweat covered their skins.

“Éomer.” She called, a bit unsure. “I do not… There is something…”

“Let it come.” He dropped a kiss below her ear. “You will like it.”

He crooked his fingers inside her and she peaked. It was that simple and that beautiful.

The sound of surprise, the bowing of her body, her cunt tightening around his fingers.

He gentled her down, while she panted underneath him. Her face remained flushed, her eyes foggy with desire.

“Why did you…”

“I hope this one was not boring.” He told her simply. “We will continue tomorrow. Good night.” And while his wife stared at him in shock and confused, he turned to the other side.

That had probably been a bad idea.

#madame baggio #gifs not mine #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #the lord of the rings #eomer #lothiriel #eomer x lothiriel #dearest husband

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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so @tinacharles and I have sort of been having this conversation about the varying levels of culpability of all the men in Éowyn’s life re: her abject fucking misery, which got me to thinking about how that discussion would play out in-universe.

I know it’s pretty popular (and not incorrectly so, imo!) to have Éomer being fairly distrustful of Faramir, but I think it's underplayed just how much ammunition Faramir has to be out-and-out fucked off with Éomer on Éowyn's behalf.

Part of that understatement is a desire, I reckon, to see all the named Rohirrim as basically innocents, manipulated beyond aid by Wormtongue, and functionally helpless until Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up, but that's a take that is, imo, too reliant upon what we get in the movie canon and not reliant enough on what's actually written in the text! The point of Théoden's downfall is that it is his pride and his hubris (and not any magic!) that is his undoing, and it is Gandalf's reminders that his responsibilities are greater than the weight of the injuries to his pride that "brings him back" so to speak. The ability to stop fucking around exists at all moments within Théoden, there is no magic, no great battles, not valiant rescues involved, it's just about him putting his big girl panties on and dealing with his own life. But because there's a tendency to see too much of the movie canon in these characters, their relative culpability in Éowyn's immiseration is largely erased, which is incredibly unfair both in terms of treating these characters with the nuance they deserve, but also in terms of treating Éowyn's misery with the seriousness it deserves!

And a key element of this is Éomer's complacency/culpability in all of this. I often quote the conversation between Gandalf, Aragorn, and Éomer after the Pelennor about Éowyn's ~fundamental unknowability~, but I think it is, uhhh, pretty fucked up that Aragorn, Faramir, and Gandalf are all able to spot out Éowyn's deeply destroyed mental health within minutes of coming into contact with her (and yes, it is true enough that they're all powered-up slightly by magic-ish things) while Éomer, who has spent literally his entire life around her, doesn't really have an inkling of what's actually going on in her interior life. That's really upsetting to me, and is no doubt deeply upsetting and isolating for Éowyn, who has basically no other people in her life until Faramir shows up (you know, after she literally tries to kill herself!).

More than that, when Gandalf and the Three Hunters show up and immediately break Théoden free of his pity party, we don't get a sense that undermining Wormtongue has any actual political repercussions—Hama (👑) immediately names Éowyn as the favoured heir to the throne, which says that she's got a substantial amount of organic support where and when it matters. Yes, it's true they immediately have to go fight Saruman's forces in Helm's Deep, but Helm's Deep is a pretty unique battle in the books for how "small" it is in terms of coalitions: the Rohirrim fight that sucker almost entirely unaided! So if a consequence of unseating Wormtongue had been facing down Saruman's lot on the battlefield (assuming that he would have been prepared to do so at any point before the canonical Battle of the Hornburg), we know that the Rohirrim could have handled it, and what's more, they might have been in an even better position to have handled it, because Théodred would have likely still been alive, alongside however many men they lost at the Battle of the Fords of Isen. A lot of words to say: there's really no indication that there was a danger, per se, to beating Wormtongue's ass down; but we do know that there was some obstacle. Tolkien goes pretty far out of his way to hint that it's a lack of will that's doing most of the work there. As readers, I think we're all mostly content to ignore this element of Éomer's complacency because we do largely see Éomer at his best and most noble, but I think we do a real disservice to both his and Éowyn's characters for not dealing with that more intimately.

Anyways, my original point is that I think Faramir has really good reason to be quite grumpy with Éomer and I think he'd actually probably be supported in that frustration by Éowyn, who would almost certainly be pretty chuffed to finally have someone fighting her corner after so many years. I don't know exactly how Faramir's frustration would manifest—almost certainly not with the level of vitriol and overtness that his frustration with his father manifested itself, but I do think he would be very good at making sure that Éomer is keenly aware that Faramir is Unhappy about his actions/lack thereof. That, I think, adds a really interesting dynamic not just to Éowyn and Faramir's personal life, particularly as they're off starting their lives together, but also their political life, given that Éomer is the new King of the Riddermark, shown to be exceptionally close with both Aragorn and Imrahil, and, of course, is later married to Faramir's cousin—some of Faramir's last living family.

Edit: just picked up the books to double check some stuff so adding cites beneath the cut

On Théoden's 'malady':

"the influence over him that Gríma gained when the King's health began to fail. This occurred early in the year 3014, when Théoden was sixty-six; his malady may thus have been due to natural causes, though the Rohirrim commonly lived till near or beyond their eightieth year. But it may well have been induced or increased by subtle poisons, administered by Gríma. In any case Théoden's sense of weakness and dependence on Gríma was largely due to the cunning and skills of this evil counsellor's suggestions."

From Unfinished Tales, V. The Battles of the Fords of Isen.

On Éomer Missing The Fucking Point:

"But Aragorn came to Éowyn, and he said: ‘Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow. The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live: It is the shield-arm that is maimed; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken.

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Then Éomer was silent, and looked on his sister, as if pondering anew all the days of their past life together."

From Return of the King, VIII The House of Healing

#lotr #meta #this counts as a meta right?#faramir #éowyn #éomer #théoden #excessive tagging is for my blog organisation i am SO sorry

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themoonlily · 3 years

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It’s interesting to think of what kind of an impact Lothíriel has for the whole of Rohirric culture, considering there actually hasn’t been a queen in the land in decades. Théoden was married to a woman named Elfhild, who died around the time Théodred was born, but this happened before Théoden became king. He ruled alone for 40 years, and an entire generation grew without knowing a queen.

So along comes Éomer, a young new king, and the royal line is all but spent, so he’d have a pretty high pressure on him to get married and have children. From this standpoint alone Lothíriel’s arrival would be significant, but I’m even more interested to think of how she adjusted to this role that’s been unfulfilled for so long that not many people even remember what it’s supposed to mean. It’s interesting to think how she’d learn to navigate it, and what she’d do to reinvent it. I would think Éomer would be very supportive of her and he’d want her to succeed, because he understands what it’s like to learn to fulfill a role you didn’t expect to have. Maybe he even thinks that she has a lot to give and that she can help him more than anyone, because I can’t imagine her growing up as Imrahil’s child and not learning a thing or two of ruling and politics.

In some ways, this long absence of a queen could also make it easier for Lothíriel to take her new place: she’s still a foreigner, but when most people have no idea of what to expect, she can well decide who and what she wants to be.

There’s also what she means to the women of Rohan. Do they feel like she’s their voice, which they didn’t have for a long time? How do they approach her, and do they go to her with their own concerns and petitions, hoping that she might speak favourably to her husband the King? Does she take interest in the many women who would have lost their husbands and sons and brothers in the War of the Ring? What kind of opportunities does Lothíriel give to the women she meets and might she even act as a patron for some of them?

Altogether, how do the young women see their new queen, who is near to their age? I can picture her being something of a ‘fashion icon’, bringing new modes of dress and hairstyles among Rohirric women. She herself may make a point of fusing Amrothian/Gondorian styles with Rohirric style into something new. She probably has to experiment with materials, as I’d imagine Rohan’s clime is not as mild as in Dol Amroth. A lot of what works on lighter fabrics is not for wools and brocades, and especially not for leather and furs.

On the other hand, there is negotiating the culture of her birthland with Rohan’s, and adjusting to a marriage where parties come from fairly different backgrounds. I would think a clash or two is inevitable, but on the other hand, I also like to imagine that they support and complement one another better than anybody expected. She is more patient and cautious than him, he knows how to take action and how to lead. It may take some effort, but in the end, they find a way to bring the best of both worlds into their union, starting a new and very different era in the society and culture of Rohan. It’s not easily done, because there are always people who want things done as they always have been, and are suspicious of Lothíriel, even expecting her to turn the court life in Meduseld into some version of her father’s, or even King Elessar’s Gondorian court. Still, she and Éomer are popular enough that they can do things freely and invent their own version of society in Edoras (though it’s partly because there was no society to speak of during the war, and Wormtongue’s influence had all but snuffed out anything that resembled culture and freedom and community). So there are subtle touches here and there, customs and traditions Lothíriel has known since childhood, that are celebrated alongside the Rohirric ways. It’s possible because she also shows respect for her new people, learns their tongue and doesn’t try to push anything forcibly; when the situation calls for a more Rohirric approach, she will readily consult with Éomer or her Rohirric maids and friends on what is the proper conduct. Similarly, he will find out from her about Gondorian court protocol and even the more obscure customs; he won’t admit even to her that it’s not just because of wanting to learn, but also because he enjoys occasionally surprising the Gondorian society with his knowledge of some antique tradition that is partially forgotten even in Gondor.

Old days are gone, but eventually even the most stubborn realise they’re not coming back - the world has changed too much, and there’s so much traffic between the free kingdoms anyway that influences travel between Edoras, Minas Tirith, Dol Amroth and even Dale in the North in ways not seen before. This time sees something of a renaissance for all the Mannish cultures when they’re finally able to direct more of their energy and resources to intellectual and cultural endeavors, and of course the War of the Ring provides them all with a huge boost for mythos, legend, song and all manner of creation as they try to understand this cataclysmic event that essentially changed their world.

#Éomer #Eomer #Lothíriel #Lothiriel #Éothiriel #eomer x lothiriel

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rohirric-hunter · 3 years

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Not to get too literary in my analysis of the writing of an MMO, or to dig too deeply into a narrative about autonomy in any video game, but I’m also having some thoughts about choices in Volumes III & IV, especially around the Dunland portion of the quest.

I’d always thought it was a little odd that they divided Dunland into the two distinct regions of Enedwaith and Dunland, and I guess for a long time I assumed it was to fill up space and that was more or less all. There are a fair number of side quests which seem reasonably fun, but the main quest stays there for... half an hour? Maaaaaaaybe an hour? Most of which is spent riding between Harndiron and Zudrugund. And then you leave with a bitter taste in your mouth. There are essential events, of course, the Forsaken Road and the introduction of Nona, but basically there’s no reason these things had to happen there, rather than in Dunland proper.

But there are certain thematic story beats, largely centered around the revelation of Saruman as the major villain of Vol. III, and it ties into the regional barriers. You’re aware of the risk Saruman poses, of course, but up through Enedwaith there’s this hope that maybe you’ve slipped under his radar. The moment you discover you haven’t is also the moment you move on out of Enedwaith into Dunland, where you proceed to hear of little else except for Saruman for a good long time.

Yes I said this was a narrative about autonomy. I’m getting to it.

One of the early Vol. III quests is the first Epic quest, if memory serves, to allow you to choose to influence events, when you can encourage Halros to either go with the Grey Company or stay behind. Of course when you are presented with this choice, there’s no possible way to guess how this will effect events down the road. After that you don’t make any choices for yourself for a while, but everyone else is making choices: Corunir chooses to invite Golodir to join the Grey Company even though you were explicitly told not to invite him. Halbarad chooses a lot of things, most of which end badly. I give Halbarad especially a hard time over some of his choices, but I’ll come back to that. For the first bit of Vol. III, everybody’s choosing something.

In Enedwaith, the choices start to dwindle. You are told to do this, and that, to slay traitors in memory of Wadu, to go fetch herbs to make a draught for Nár, to track down messengers and seek out books and so on and so forth. None of these things are objectionable things, but the quests do become a bit. Cluttered? Busy? Running from one little thing to the next, never suspecting that all these tasks are perhaps distracting you from something else? *cough*Tinnudir-Mordrambor-Amarthiel-Tadan*cough* You start to lose your ability to make wise choices in the chaos, and before you know it you’re knocking on the front door of a bunch of cursed undead oathbreakers, and that goes... quite a lot better than can be expected, actually, all things considered, and Corunir asks the real question:

Frithgeir did not want to, but at the end I gave him no choice, and he has brewed the drink and given it to Nár.

Hurry! Go now to Nár and ask him, once again, how he knows of the Oath-breakers! Ask him how he knows the words of Elrond concerning the Paths of the Dead! Ask him why my friends are dead!

Go! We will leave Zudrugund, but first I want to know why all of this had to happen!'

(Oh, there it is again, choice.)

Why did this happen? Why didn’t any one of a number of potentially better choices get made? And you learn your answer: because Saruman meddles. Because there’s a wizard at hand who thinks he has the right and the power to make choices for other people. Théoden will say, “were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired,” and Saruman will not answer, but he disagrees, quite strongly.

Anywho, when you move on to Dunland proper a few veils are pulled back. In Galtrev many of the people are enslaved, and the slavers think you’re on their side, and while you choose not to use their methods, you’re all still a part of Saruman’s war machine (and it’s unclear how much this changes at the end of the Galtrev questline). You move on to Tûr Morva and there are a lot of uncomfortable things happening, but one that stuck out to me was Radanir -- Radanir will muck out ox-pens whether he chooses to or not. The people of the Falcon Clan... well, they do as Lheu Brenin does. And as for you, you do as Lheu Brenin says, and there’s a certain contrast, you know, between him and Théodred. Théodred is rash with his words and makes no secret of some of his thoughts that perhaps ought to be kept private, but he lets you go and do as you please, and even his ruder comments are born from genuine respect and concern, the hope that maybe you will take his opinion into account while making an informed choice.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” the game says, silently. “Yes, these people are just ridden with details that make them suspicious, but you don’t have a choice. You don’t. Have. A choice. You need allies.”

That ends... much worse than could have been expected.

All the veils are pulled back and now you’re in Isengard and you’re a slave, and ironically you quickly start to have more autonomy than you have in some time. It’s a game of making the Uruk-hai look the other way long enough to get something done, working to make them underestimate you in order to leverage the choices you do have. And there you meet Acca, who never understood, not really, and didn’t think of power and rings and great kingdoms, but he knew, on a given day, in a given situation, the difference between wrong and right, and insomuch as he knew, he made his choice, and he paid for it dearly.

And after that there is no choice, truly this time -- you escape Isengard, and you return to Tûr Morva, and you begin reaping the rewards of your previous choices: the supplies you gathered for the Falcons, the traps you laid for them, their warriors you helped train. Halbarad does not say it, but he is reaping those rewards too, when the survivors gather outside the prison caves and he performs a head count, and he’s aware, he doesn’t need an irate player to remind him, that it was his choices that led him there.

Then, Troubled Dreams. You choose to follow the dream, to head north.

Horn chooses to offer Nona what aid he can, even when everyone is telling him not to.

Horn and Corudan choose to travel with you.

Nona chooses to move on from the ghost of her brother, and find something for herself.

You choose to follow Éomer to Edoras.

When the time comes you choose to ignore your banishment.

And then a wrench is thrown in the words: a seer. Is there choice, when the future has been seen?

Horn believes there is. Nona believes there is not.

Horn rides to Minas Tirith. You reap the rewards of the choice you made in the beginning of Vol. III. And the volume ends with Horn, if he survives, wondering. Why did he survive when Halros did not? What choices led Halros there, to that moment where he gave up his own life for that of a stranger? Why did he make that choice? And what does it mean? What does all the sacrifice mean, in the end? What do all the choices mean?

If Horn does not survive, according to the Wiki, Elfhelm celebrates the sacrifice of Golodir, who avenged his fallen son, never knowing the bloody, bloody choices that led him to that moment, every single one of them the wrong one, somehow.

At this point the PC is offered the wonderful gift of being able to pass the making of decisions off to Aragorn and Gandalf.

#lotro #im sorry its all overbearing analysis now #aragorn has some line at the beginning of two towers #he says something along the lines of 'it seems all my choices today have gone amiss'#and he keeps on lamenting that for some time #anyway i do think that was the vibe they were going for

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schrijverr · 3 years

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Promises You Made to Me

Chapter 2 out 3

Aragorn falls for Boromir on their journey. When they realize they share their affection, they also know that the time is not now to act upon them. Both promise to share love once they see the quest done, a promise that long seems a broken oath. Still, the horn was heard in more lands and the Elves have not yet forsaken this world

A Boromir lives AU where they fall in love before Boromir falls at Amon Hen, but Aragorn only learns of his survival after the defeat of Sauron.

On AO3.

Ships: Aragorn x Boromir

Warnings: mourning and Aragorn's bad coping

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Chapter 2: Can’t Promise You Kind Road Below

Aragorn did not want to think about the dying face of Boromir, how he had clutched to his clothes in desperate regret, nor how he had looked as if their doom was impending and there was no stopping it.

He hated how when he recalled the image of Boromir, he could only see that Boromir, chocking on his own blood, confessing his sins. He wanted to see Boromir in the flickering light of the fire, his eyes when he talked, but he could not.

Through Rohan, he ran himself ragged trying to find the little ones Boromir had died to protect and when even that task was his no longer, he worked to ensure that the world of men would not fail.

As they rode to Helm’s Deep, he was aware of Éowyn’s eyes on him, but he knew it was not love, for he knew what love looked like. She loved him for the things he could bring her, not for his tales of mischief or his tracking in the wild, just war and valor.

He would not engage with her meaningful looks hoping that they would go away, before he had to deal with them. His soul was smarting still and the affection in her eyes instead of his, hurt more than he could have thought.

When he went over the cliff edge, a small part of him hoped that he would see Boromir again, but instead he saw but an image of him, kissing his forehead as Aragorn had done on Amon Hen, before pulling him up, urging him to fulfill the oath he had made.

Brego trotted slow enough to not jostle him, but it would not have mattered for his mind was consumed by his empty arm and the shadow a smile long gone.

Arriving he heard Gimli through the crowd: “Where is he? Where is he? Get out of the way! I’m gonna kill him!” Then he saw him and hugged him close. “You are the luckiest, the canniest and the most reckless man I ever knew!”

Aragorn hugged back, but he did not have the time for this. His mind had been made up, he needed to save Rohan and then Gondor, for Boromir. It was a truth he had already known, but seeing Boromir in his mind’s eye, pleading with him again, made it a reality once more. He could not give up now. “Gimli, where is the King?”

Legolas also stopped him before he could reach Théoden King, however. “Le ab-dollen,” he frowned and scanned him over. “You look terrible.”

It was a relief, somehow, to have Legolas there, insulting him as of old. The Elf with his long life had more familiarity with grief than most and he tried his best to keep Aragorn on his two legs. A smile broke out on his face.

Then something leathery was pushed into his hands. Boromir’s bracer. It had been torn off during the fight with the Orc and he had felt its absence ever since, holding it in his hands once more made swallowing harder than it needed to be.

“Hannon le.” It was not enough to express all the thanks he had to his friend for saving and protecting this object while he could, even if he did not know whether Aragorn had made it and even if there was no one to return it to. Yet, he hoped his face showed all the gratitude his soul held.

After that he walked on to the King and so he stood and fought for Helm’s Deep, for mankind.

It was a pity that the Elves send to their aid were from the Western border of Lothlórien, instead of the Eastern, which had collected Boromir, since now neither knew that Boromir lived still.

Gandalf prevented him from marching directly through to the White City once the battle was over and the warning had to be brought, while Aragorn’s heartwas eager to march on.

Waiting was more agonizing than Aragorn had expected. When there were no longer marches that lasted days on which the silence was oppressively present or battles that went through the night, the emotions he had tried to hide from crept into his mind once more.

There was no description in any of the tongues he knew for the way his heart hurt. No words for the way it was hollow yet so heavy, nor for the way his mind replayed that day and all the things he could have done differently, if he had only seen.

He spend days sitting alone with his pipe.

Legolas understood. The Elf would sit next to him in silence, watching over the plains for someone, who would not appear on the horizon. Gimli, as well, would hold him company, on the long nights wherein sleep seemed the enemy more so than the darkness.

This night he was alone, however, gracing the halls of Edoras with his drunken mumbling filled with grief. His mind had called upon him to write a song for the loss and glory of Boromir, something he had been turning in his mind for many days.

There were reproaches to himself also for not giving him some sort of ritual send off that he had deemed as too time-consuming, if he was to fulfill his promises, and had regretted ever since. He should have bore Boromir to one of their boats and let the Anduin take him home, yet he had not.

Softly he swished the ale in his mug, looking into his reflection that looked more pitiful than a King should look. But he was no King here, just a broken man and quietly he murmured:

“Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes "What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight? Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?" "I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey I saw him walk in empty lands until he passed away Into the shadows of the North, I saw him then no more The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor" "O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar But you came not from the empty lands where no men are" . From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans "What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve? Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve" "Ask not of me where he doth dwell – so many bones there lie On the white shores, on the dark shores under the stormy sky So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me" "O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea’s mouth" . From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls "What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today? What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away" "'Neath 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" "O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days"”

“That was beautiful, my Lord. I knew not that a lament had been written for the grievous loss of Lord Boromir.” His private sorrow was interrupted by Éowyn, who could not know how deep the grief ran in Aragorn’s heart.

“It is not,” said he. “I wrote it.”

“Did he go down the Anduin, my Lord?” she asked. “We heard fairly little of the demise of our trusted ally of many years, only that it had happened.”

Aragorn’s teeth clenched, a steady breath leaving his nose at her innocent question. “He did not. We had not the time and I have regretted it ever since I turned my back to the place where he fell. He deserved more honor.”

Éowyn fell silent, then gently sat beside him. He knew not whether to be grateful for her company or upset at the intrusion, which it could hardly be called inside the public halls of her home.

She laid her hand on his arm. “You cared for him,” she observed. “He was not just your brother in arms, I can feel the grief in your voice and I see the bracers of Gondor upon your arms. Though it might not be a comparison, Théodred is a soul dearly missed by me. He rode into battle with Éomer, but it was me he comforted in the night when the nightmares got too strong. He was my brother more than my cousin.”

He heard the pain in her voice and while it was not a lover she had lost, it had been a loved one. She had not looked at him before with the compassion born of something other than love and in that moment, he appreciated the understanding she brought him.

“I promised I’d protect him, that we both might live to see the end of our quest.” His gaze wandered to a far off place that was unseen to other eyes. “I found him too late and save him, I could not. For all the Elven healing I have learned, I was not enough. I failed him.”

“You have not failed him, for if Boromir was to be failed, he would be failed by no one but his own,” Éowyn spoke fiercely. “I knew Boromir for many winters passed and he was proud and bold. He knew his sword better than his body, leading the charge and ending every fight he fought. He was a great warrior and I will not have his name tarried by your claim that he needed your protection. If he fell, he fell with the honor of a Soldier and a noble man, fighting until he could do so no more to protect what he held dear.”

Aragorn fell silent.

While Legolas and Gimli had many times told him to not carry the weight of Boromir’s death on his shoulders, it was Éowyn that defended Boromir in removing his guilt.

Boromir valued his honor and he had told him that he had kept it. It would not do to take those words back in his mind, to carry the guilt of Boromir’s death that was more Saruman’s fault than his own. Still it was easier to speak the words than to take the message to heart, yet it eased his mind, for he had felt he could not grieve that which he had caused, allowing himself to only feel the pain when colored by blame.

“You are not responsible for Théodred either, my Lady. Saruman’s magic lies in his voice and his arm reached far, do not blame yourself for there is not blame to be laid,” he said, not knowing how else to respond to the kindness she had shown him.

There was the same shock of the confirmation that it was okay to rest that had been upon his face moments before. She swallowed, then stared ahead: “I still have to atone for not doing more, for taking one of our greatest Captains in times of war when he could have been saved.”

“You do not have to replace him, my Lady. Dying in honor is not worth it to repay a debt that isn’t owed. Why should you atone for Gríma’s and Saruman’s crimes? Who will be here to protect the home that Théodred died for? If we fail, who else will hold steady here?” He knew her urge to fight, but he hoped she would see that times of peace were more valuable and that everyone had their own part to play in getting there.

She did not take kindly to his comfort, nor his advice. For all her wisdom to Aragorn, she had little for her own heart, little to soften the blows she dealt herself. Her lips pulled into a thin line and her hands clenched, before she swept out of the room, leaving Aragorn once more with a mug of ale as his only company.

Aragorn was still churning their words in his head the morning after. Both trying to find the right words for the ones that had been misplaced by her mind the day before as well as trying to come to terms with hers.

On the horizon a light flickered.

He rushed up many stairs and through the town he flew into the great hall of Edoras, where he panted:“The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!”

The hall fell silent in awaiting Théoden’s answer and while Aragorn had already decided that no matter the word of the King, he would ride, taking whoever was willing with him, he still longed to know the King’s answer.

“And Rohan shall answer,” the King decided. “Gather to Rohirrim.” The words loosened the weight inside Aragorn’s chest. An army would do more for Gondor than a lone man.

He would come to Gondor’s aid, he would not abandon Boromir nor his home. There was a little hope for Gondor now and Aragorn found himself eagerly awaiting the return to his Kingdom, even if there was a chance he would find it in ruins.

In the end his return alongside Rohan would not come to pass. Seeing Elrond was a respite he did not know he needed, but when the older man shed his hood, Aragorn’s knees nearly buckled as a sense of safety and home consumed him.

“Estel?” he questioned when he saw Aragorn. “You are not the man that left Rivendell. You have lost something, a part of yourself. Where is the Evenstar brooch?”

“I- I gave it away,” Aragorn confessed, voice less steady than a hut during an earth quake.

“To whom?” Elrond wore the face that he often did when the human character of Aragorn managed to baffle him, even after all the millennia he had walked this earth.

Aragorn knew not whether he wanted to confess to the man, who had been like his father, to whom he had given the star of his daughter, but it felt unfair to keep it from him and yet it was hard to speak the name. “Boromir.”

“The brooch was not all you gave to Boromir.” The statement was an inquiry, but it might as well have been a knife. There was no judgment in Elrond’s voice, just a quiet understanding that came with all the losses he’d had.

He nodded in reply, for there was no more he could say to Elrond, save: “I swore to him that I would not see Gondor fail, Ada. Yet, my heart tells me Rohan will not be enough.”

“Your heart speaks truth, you ride to war not victory. Sauron’s armies ride on Minas Tirith, this you know, but in secret he sends another force, which will attack from the river. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the South. They will be in the city in two days. You’re outnumbered, Estel. You need more men.”

At Elrond’s words, Aragorn’s heart sank. He had known this was a futile attempt to stem the tide of the darkness, thatthey would need even more men, men that did not exist or could not be spared. The promise he made to Boromir, was an oath he could not keep. “There are none,” it was a desolate fate to realize there in the night.

“There are those, who dwell in the mountain,” Elrond’s suggestion was one they could not count on and he wondered when the counsel of the Elves had turned to hopeless last efforts that would not be fruitful.

“Murderers, traitors. You would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing, they answer to no one.” Did Elrond not see that it would be his end?

“They will answer to the King of Gondor. I am here on behalf of someone that I love, Arwen begged me to bring this to you healed before she left to the Grey Havens,” said Elrond, revealing a sword that had been concealed in his coat. “Andúril, the Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil.”

With near reverence Aragorn took the sword, by whose shards he had first seen Boromir so many nights ago. The rhyme that foretold his duty came to fruition as a tale from old.

It seemed poetic that it came to his hands now that he marched on the City he had sworn to protect in name of the man, he had met next to that very same sword. How it came to him healed, only after Boromir had named him King and he had proven himself in battle.

“The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith.”

While he knew his duty, he could not easily do so without the entire encampment knowing. He made his goal clear, but all thought it a foolish quest that would rob them of a leader in the battle that was to come. “Why are you doing this? The war lies to the East. You cannot leave on the eve of battle, you cannot abandon the men.”

“Éowyn,” for that was who had spoken and Aragorn hoped that his tone would convey all that he tried to say to her, knowing that she was not susceptible to listening.

“We need you here.” Everyone seemed to need him, but he knew where he was needed and it was not here, it was with a deadly army marching on Minas Tirith from the South.

“Why have you come?” he asked instead of all he wanted to say to her. He knew her reasons, but he needed her to understand that what she wished could not come to pass, for he did not think he could ever fully heal from the grief of Boromir. He was not right for her.

“Do you not know?”

“It is but a shadow and a thought that you love. I cannot give you what you seek.” The glance she send to his bracers told him she understood, yet she did not want to believe and the blunt rejection still hurt her as she backed away.

Aragorn knew that he should have felt more guilt about hurting the maiden, but he could not find it in him, for he was hurting too, yet there was no one right for him either, except the dead. He would find company there.

He also found company in Legolas and Gimli, glad for his friends that had been a steadfast presence by his side.

There were no finer companions to march with, for they had been there through it all, not once leaving his side and trusting him with their life, even when his judgment had cost them one of the Fellowship’s. They had not blamed him and stood by his side with more understanding of his conviction than he could have hoped for.

A dark path later, he finally gazed upon the White City. It stood high and mighty still, yet the magic with which Boromir had described it fell flat as the lower levels burned and the streets were overrun by Orcs and Trolls.

Boromir’s words in Lothlórien echoed through his mind: ‘Still, my heart tells me that I will not see my home as it is now ever again and my fears would have me believe that the next time I see it, it will be in ruin.’

Had he known then the omen of which those words spoke, he would not have thought so lightly of them.

Yet those were demons for after the war was won, for the end was only staved off and the Houses of Healing were filled with people, who did have a chance to see their home restored, should they live through this.

Aragorn worked tirelessly, remembering Boromir telling him off the time he had ended up here with a broken arm after he had fallen of a horse as a youngster. Boromir had recalled how the nurses had more resembled a beehive and how the busy hands had distracted him from the pain.

It was strange how his memories came alive amidst the dying soldiers of his City. He tried to work through it and many citizens saw him there, working so tirelessly as to be the hive Boromir had told him off by himself.

His people spoke, rumors of his deeds in the Houses of Healing spread through the City. Yet, no one spoke of the King that had wept at the sick bed of Faramir, Son of Gondor, now herCaptain and Steward, who resembled his so brother closely.

For days he found himself beside Faramir, looking at the man with an aching guilt. He wondered if he knew his brother was dead, if Pippin had told him, if he knew that Boromir would never again hear the silver trumpets call him home.

He knew not how Boromir had carried so much upon his shoulders for the many years he dwelt here and he felt deeply how the burdens he had seen in the eyes of Boromir, were the burdens meant for him. So, he set to work again, trying not to think of it more.

And it was in the Houses of Healing that Legolas found him, gently washing Faramir’s wounds with athelas water. He laid a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “You need to stop, Aragorn. You will not save Boromir by saving his brother. He is in safe hands here, you can do no more but rest.”

Aragorn tried to ignore him and went back to what he was doing, but his hands were shaking and his eyes were drooping. He knew Legolas to be right, yet it was hard to tear himself away from caring for the family of the man that held his heart.

“We have a counsel about our next move come morning. You cannot protect Minas Tirith if you’re exhausted. Please, sleep.”

The fact that Legolas spoke truth made it all the more frustrating. Faramir looked so much like his brother that it was sometimes easy to pretend that he had been on time to save him. But he had not. Every time he glimpsed features that were not Boromir’s that revelation came to him again.

Still, he knew that Boromir had cared for his brother, with many tales of their adventures both as young lads and soldiers proved that. Aragorn would never forgive himself if Faramir died under his care. He would do anything to protect Minas Tirith.

Slowly he stood up, vision going black for a moment as Legolas steadied him. Gratefully, he leaned on the Elf and let himself be led to a bed. He could not remember falling asleep, but it was the first full sleep he had in weeks, through virtue of pure exhaustion.

The debate for their next move had gathered in the Citadel and Aragorn walked the halls where he was meant to rule and where Boromir had grown up. He should have been there as well, to decide the fate of his City and people, but he was not and Aragorn would try his best in his stead.

He deeply understood Gandalf’s fear and blame of himself, when he talked about Frodo and the heavy shadow in the East, as he stated: “I have send him to his death.”

“No.” Aragorn would not let Gandalf fall into his own mistakes, he would not let the Wizard give up when he had just hardened his resolve to do what he must. “There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that.”

“How?” asked Gimli and Aragorn explained the plan that had been growing in his mind: “Draw out Sauron’s armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate.”

“We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms,” Éomer rightfully critiqued, but he did not yet see the full picture. The real goal.

“Not for ourselves,” Aragorn agreed, “but we can give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron’s eyes fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves.”

“A diversion.” It clicked for Legolas and he saw in the Elf’s eyes that he thought him mad and genius at once. He knew then that he would have Legolas by his side.

“Certainty of death, small chance of success,” Gimli summarized and Aragorn hoped the Dwarf would be on his side as well. The three of them had journeyed so far and it would hurt to see his friend abandon ship at the end. Yet, his heart knew that Gimli was more stouthearted and loyal than that, which was confirmed by the Dwarf himself: “What are we waiting for?”

“Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait,” Gandalf voiced what Arargorn had also realized, but he had an idea. He grinned and said: “Oh, I think he will,” before explaining what he meant to do.

Before he could do so however, Pippin stopped him. He looked at the Hobbit curiously, it was not the same Hobbit whom he had left Rivendell with. There was a weight on his shoulders and a wisdom in his eyes.

“Promise me I can come with you to the Black Gate,” he asked. “Boromir gave his life for me and Faramir has shown me great compassion despite my involvement in his brother’s death. I would be ashamed to not protect their home.”

“It is not up to me to decide who goes,” he said and he saw Pippin’s face fall, so he added, “It is up to the heart of every man. I will not force anyone to come with me, but every man is welcome. Still, you should not feel like a debt is owed, because you were the bringer of the news of Boromir’s death to his kin.”

He knew how Boromir cared for the Hobbits – Merry and Pippin especially, since they reminded him of the youth untouched by war and he had hoped to save them of the harsh, dark hands of violence. Another place where Aragorn had failed him. Boromir would not want them to unnecessarily endanger themselves.

“That is not why I want to fight, Aragorn. I want to help Frodo and Sam, I hope to see my friends again and I wish to fight for their good fortune,” Pippin said. “And it was not me, who brought the news.”

“It was not?” Aragorn frowned. He did not know how else the news could have come to the White City.

“No, it was his cloven horn that was found in the river, which told the people that Boromir would not return, I merely confirmed the loss already felt,” Pippin explained.

A cold hand gripped Aragorn’s heart. How had the horn ended up in the river when last he had seen, it had been next to it’s bearer far from the water of the Anduin, lying on the forest ground? Who had moved the horn from it’s resting place?

“Aragorn?” He had been quiet fortoo long and Pippin’s brows formed a concerned look. He failed to smile reassuringly as he said: “I’m sorry, Pippin. I was distracted. It is a noble cause to fight for your friends and your blade will be welcome.” Then he quickly left.

The fear and guilt in his heart was a familiar mix and he had not the time to examine the revelation too closely, for there was something he had to do. Though his mind kept straying.

Looking into the Palantír, he saw the dreadful eye that had haunted them through their journey across Middle Earth. It writhed and hissed in Black speech, things he could not understand. He unsheathed his sword and told Him: “Long have you hunted me. Long have I eluded you. No more! Behold, the Sword of Elendil!”

Immediate was the reaction of the Dark Lord, who showed him the body of Boromir, defiled and dismembered by a pack of Orcs. His fair face was no more, his horn tossed into the river with all that was left of him. The Evenstar trampled and left in the dirt.

Aragorn felt sick as he dropped the Palantír.

He knew not whether the stone spoke truth or if the Dark Lord had looked into his heart to confirm his deepest fears. Yet a part of his mind could not help but think that it had come to pass and that his actions had led to Boromir being desecrated like that after death.

When he had decided to leave Boromir there, it had been purely selfish. He wanted Boromir to be given the chance to be buried as the Kings of old as he had deserved. He had not wanted to dishonor Boromir as well as giving himselfthe chance to be buried alongside him. But the had not been the time to dig a grave with the trail of Merry and Pippin growing cold every second, he could not fail what Boromir had started.

So the body had been left and now he had a broken horn that should not have been in the river and an all seeing eye that confirmed what he had feared.

The bile rising in his throat felt almost as bitter as the taste of regret that coated his tongue. It seemed like he was only failing Boromir. His city lay in ruin, he would march her last soldiers to their death by the Black Gates and now the decisions about the death of Boromir felt foolish and was causing an anguish and doubt in his heart when Gondor needed it least.

He could not let this stop him, however. Boromir had turned his back on helping Frodo for a moment and it had led him onto a road of ruin and Aragorn had swore to do better by him. He could not abandon Frodo, not now. No matter if his heart wanted him to hide and cry.

Thus it came to pass that he marched steadily on the Black Gate with too small an army and a sun rising in the sky that he might never see setting again.

Aragorn spoke to his troops, to the brave men that had followed him in spite of knowing the foolish quest that it was. “Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers. I see it in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and all bonds of Fellowship.”

Even as he spoke the image of Boromir haunted his words. His attempt to take the Ring colored his mind, yet Boromir had the courage to turn back, to not forsake his friends and neither would the men in front of him. “But it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!”

He saw encouragement in the eyes that looked up at him as he heard the voice of Boromir: ‘I have not yet seen you in a proper battle, nor with men under your command,’ and he hoped that if Boromir could see him, he would be proud. That he would have provenhimself worthy of the throne that lay waiting for him, should he return.

“By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!” Around him weapons were unsheathed as men readied themselves to fight with Aragorn joining them on his horse.

No one could stop him, he had to fight. Fight for Frodo, for Gondor, for Boromir and the promises he had made to him. He would fight for the memory of the Elves and the legacy of men in the new age. He might perish on the field of battle, but he would do so with honor. For if he fell, he wanted to join there were Boromir dwelt.

A/N:

Shout out to me for using a bazillion (9k) words for FOTR only to breeze past the rest of the franchise in record speed (5k). Well, maybe not record speed, but pretty fast if u compare.

Also I adore the Lament for Boromir (and I cry every time, very hard and long, lets not talk about it, anyways), but that does not just come to you and I wanted to explore writing it for Aragorn, so it had to be included and is straight from the books. I am quite sad that Legolas didn’t get to sing his part though :/

In the movies more so than the books, I feel (which is up for interpretation), Aragorn’s journey is shadowed by the death of Boromir. It is Boromir that convinced him of the courage of men and how Gondor needs him, who accepts him as King first and shows Aragorn what his absence has caused. So, I really wanted to explore all the places where Aragorn would meet Boromir’s shadow when he thought him dead and was mourning.

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anghraine · 3 years

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hi! so i see it said on here (jokingly mostly) that its lucky eowyn never met denethor bc she'd be pissed at him on faramir's behalf. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on that going in the other direction, of faramir being pissed on eowyns behalf that she basically spent years isolated w/ wormtongue, driven to the point where dying in battle felt like her only option? in all fairness i might be projecting here as that is something i personally would be angry about lol

I haven’t really thought about either, tbh!

Both Faramir and Éowyn strike me as people who internalize their personal feelings in service of their obligations and values, until the pressure gets too high and something snaps. In general, I don’t think either actually talks much about how they feel about those kinds of experiences, even to each other (at least at first).

So, while Faramir is capable of picking up a lot, certainly more than people say, and did pick up relevant details from Merry, it’s possible that there’s still quite a bit that he simply doesn’t know about.

Assuming that he does know everything Éowyn went through, though—

I think it would be affected by one question: what could have been done differently? Théoden is dead and was himself a victim in the situation. Théodred is a giant question mark, and dead, too. Éomer didn’t fully understand what was going on with Éowyn and had limited ability to act on what he did know. The others around Éowyn are also a giant question mark.

If anything, I think that’s part of her despair; there’s no one who can help her until Aragorn strolls in. And Aragorn could have handled the situation better IMO, but it’s not really his fault that Éowyn saw him as her only way out. Gríma, to all appearances, has vanished off the face of the earth, so there’s not much to be done there (eventually report of his death would reach them, of course).

It’s possible that Faramir could be angry about the situation generally, and I don’t think that is unlikely—just difficult to act on or direct. But I think his dominant feeling would be compassion and sorrow for Éowyn rather than making the situation about his feelings. Even if he blamed Éomer to some extent, I think he’d keep it to himself.

#fwiw i think book éowyn would be icily courteous towards denethor #anon replies #respuestas #legendarium blogging #/#//#///#////#/////#faramir #éowyn #otp: and the sun shone #Anonymous

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years

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Today in Tolkien - February 25th

In the morning the Fellowship return to the river and pass the Argonath by boat, reaching the lawn of Parth Galen below the hill of Amon Hen on the west shore in the evening. In the night, Aragorn becomes restless and suggests that Frodo draw Sting; it gleams faintly blue, indicating that orcs are not very far off.

Also during this day - little-mentioned in The Lord of the Rings, but covered at much greater length in Unfinished Tales - is Saruman’s first open attack on Rohan, at the First Battle of the Fords of Isen. The Rohirrim are victorious, but at great cost, and Théoden’s son Théodred - his only son, and so the end of his direct line - is slain.

Here’s a summary of what Unfinished Tales has:

Grima Wormtongue, Saruman’s agent within Edoras, was unsuccessful at trying to foment division between Théodred and Éomer, because they were greatly loyal to each other and to Théoden. However, he got Théoden to think of them as rivals, and portrayed Éomer as ambitious and ever-ready to act without consulting Théoden or Théodred. A primary goal of the Battle of the Fords of Isen was to kill Théodred and use this to alienate Théoden from Éomer, thereby depriving Rohan of all its top commanders and, by manipulating Théoden, preventing any defence of Rohan.

As a result of this, Saruman was willing to have his forces retreat after killing Théodred; if he had instead pressed the attack into Rohan with all his forces at that time, he would almost certainly have overrun it before Gandalf could do anything about it; even if the Ents had still destroyed Isengard, there would have been no force of Rohirrim to ride to the relief of Minas Tirith.

The Isen formed the west border of Rohan between the Misty Mountains and the White Mountains; along this line it could oniy be crossed at its northern source (near Isengard) or at the Fords of Isen, a shallow place in the river where it flowed in two arms around a central eyot (small island). Since Saruman was in Isengard, he could send forces down both banks of the river to attack the Fords, whereas the Rohirrim could only cross at the Fords, and would be cut off if they were stranded on the west bank. (I’m quite confused as to the strategic value the Fords present to Saruman if he can send his forces down the east shore of the river and directly into Rohan regardless of whether he controls the Fords or not.)

Next: Oh dear, tactics. I’m terrible at tactics. Read a great history of WWI once, had piles of battlefield maps, conveyed absolutely nothing to me.

Theodred stations infantry on both shores of the fords; himself, 8 cavalry companies, 1 archer company on the west bank (intending to ride north and hit Saruman’s forces while they’re unprepared, since his scouts warn him Saruman’s forces are mainly on the west side); and 3 cavalry companies, along with the horse-herds and spare mounts, on the east bank.

Théodred hits the vanguard of Saruman’s forces, but beyond that they’re better-prepared than he expected - in trenches with pikemen, good for fighting cavalry (thanks, Age of Empires!). He’s also outflanked to the west by more of Saruman’s forces. Théodred sees other forces going south on the east bank, and retreats in order to the Fords, closely pursued.

Théodred reaches the Fords in the evening and sends all the horses and most of the men to the east side, leaving Grimbold in command of infantry on the west side, and stationing himself and his company of (dismounted) riders on the island in the middle of the river to cover Grimbold’s retreat if necessary. I have no idea how many men are in a company.

Disastrously, Saruman’s force on the east bank attacks - it includes Dunlending horsemen and orcish wolfriders, who rapidly kill or scatter the horses. It also has 2 battalions [I have no idea how many are in a battalion] of Uruk-Hai, who attack and rout the garrison and push the cavalry that Théodred had just sent to reinforce the east shore back across the Fords. (This is possibly the attack that inspired the wolfrider attack in The Two Towers movie - whatever I think of the movies’ treatment of LOTR’s core themes and ethos, they did do their research on the lore.) Grimbold is attacked by Saruman’s forces on the west side of the river, and the island is attacked from both sides by orc-men with axes.

Grimbold fights across to the island but is just barely too late to save Théodred, who is cut down with an axe by one of the orc-men.

Just then, reinforcements (4 cavalry companies) arrive with Elfhelm from the east, and he charges the forces of Isengard. Startled, and overestimating his numbers in the shadows of sunset, the Isengard forces on the east bank flee northwards, and Elfhelm sends 2 of his companies to pursue them. He rides to the rescue of the men on the island, and the Isengard forces there are caught between Elfhelm’s and Grimbold’s forces and destroyed. The Isengard forces on the west bank retreat. There is no further fighting during the night.

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #today in tolkien #rohirrim

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vorbarrsultana · 3 years

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Do you have certain fancasts for the lotr characters (asking because of your amazing Arwen gifset)?

Yes, I do! Although I do like PJ’s movies, and some casting decisions worked for me, and some didn't. All hobbits, Legolas, and Thranduil were almost perfect. But, for example, I like Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn, but I also think that his Aragorn is closer to Thorongil than Elessar. He is too young and insecure for Aragorn I imagined reading the books.

So far I (a known Dúnedain stan, who literally can’t choose between Arnor and Gondor, because they all are the best, most awesome humans) have:

Deva Cassel as Arwen from the gifset you mentioned. She is so young, graceful, and gorgeous! And yes, Arwen is the Queen of Dúnedain, she should be here.

Mads Mikkelsen in Michael Kohlhaas as LOTR Aragorn. He is supposed to look like he is in his late forties, I think. Also, Aragorn's greying hair was mentioned in the books too.

Richard Armitage in Robin Hood as Halbarad. This faceclaim was pretty much accepted by the entire fandom long ago.

Oscar Isaac in Agora looks like Faramir to me. In this movie, his character wears Greek clothes and Byzantine Gondor is a hill I would die on.

But I really need Boromir fancast.

I don't have any ideas about faceclaim for older Denethor either. I have some ideas about younger Denethor and Aragorn (maybe I'll make a gifset soon? I'm really into this criminally underrated ship, you know).

Adelaide Kane in Reign as Finduilas of Dol Amroth. She looks so beautiful, sublime, and gentle, and just perfect for this type of character in this TV show.

Bruna Marquezine as Lothíriel of Dol Amroth. I've seen someone's edit with her as Lyanna Stark once, and since then I was absolutely certain that she is perfect for one of the Dúnedain.

Luke Roberts (who played Arthur Dayne) as Prince Imrahil. I've seen this done a lot, and I like it? He looks like someone I would trust with anything in heartbeat.

Marina Moschen as (young) Gilraen. I've seen pics with her holding a bow, and it is very Ranger-y.

As for non-Dúnedain, I was thinking about:

Imogen Poots in Centurion as Éowyn of Rohan. I adore Miranda Otto, and the "I am no man" scene is iconic, but I feel like PJ aged Éowyn up a bit in the movies (maybe it's just me, idk). She is supposed to be just 23, and Imogen Poots looks young and tough at the same time.

No Éomer yet, only some ideas. Karl Urban was near perfect, but a bit older than I pictured him in the books.

Also, Théodred. If his cousins were aged up in the movies, he was certainly aged down, because in canon he is almost 20 years older than them. Still no ideas, sadly.

Théoden is perfect as he is.

Also, Bard! Luke Evans is amazing and totally on point.

If I'll go into Silm territory, then:

I generally go with models for the Elves, and I change my Elvish fancasts very often.

But Katie McGrath in Merlin as Lúthien, because have you seen her in the blue dress in this TV show???

Also, Eoin Macken as Beren. I imagine him to be a very good-looking and romantic guy (in the lone guerilla fighter but actually a real Disney prince way), so...

I've accidentally seen Aneurin Barnard and Freya Mavor together in White Queen and instantly went "wow, Túrin and Nienor", so they have been my fancast ever since.

Eva Green or Lena Heady as Morwen, they both are so stern and beautiful. But I still have no idea how I picture Húrin, Huor, Rian, and Tuor.

Also, we've talked about Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as Aldarion once.

Wow, it ended up very long. And I love Dúnedain, as you can tell.

#answered #wow #tolkien

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 4 months

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I see you very much as an expert on all things Rohirrim, so I bring to you this question, hoping I can pick your brain for info to use in my own fics (full disclosure). 😅

It seems to be a popular fanon that the Rohirrim/Riders of Rohan have tattoos, and that body art is a part of their culture. Do you have any thoughts or personal HCs about this that you're willing to share?

Thank you in advance! I appreciate you and your blog so much (if you didn't already know that).

Oh my goodness!!! I am so very honored to be thought of as a person who is knowledgeable about my beloved Rohirrim, and I hope very much that I can live up to that reputation. Thank you!!!

I’m not aware of any real textual evidence for body art among the Rohirrim, and the historical record in the medieval Anglo Saxon and Norse societies that Tolkien used as a reference for them seems to be disputed. But I absolutely understand and agree with the conventional wisdom that tattoos are a thing in Rohan. It just fits well with a warrior culture that has a wilder, dare-I-say more pagan aesthetic as compared to the smooth solemnity of Gondor or the formal elegance of the elves. And since they’re a culture that doesn’t document things in written words, pictorial representations such as tattoos and body art would be one way to fill that gap (along with their songs and oral traditions).

In my mind, tattoos in Rohan are common but basic—they’ve really only got the technology for the “stick and poke” method so the designs are kept simple because anything too elaborate is difficult to pull off well. They’re mostly in black line (using soot) but some have color using powder made from grinding up certain dried roots and plants.

Each village/community has its own distinctive tattoo motif that is worn by all of that community’s members. So you can tell just by looking at someone whether they’re from Upbourn (a fish because it’s a river town) or Dunharrow (mountain peaks since they’re in the White Mountains) or Everholt (a boar in honor of the wild boar that live in this part of the Firien Wood), etc. And soldiers also tend to share tattoo designs specific to their éored—getting your éored’s mark is a formal rite of passage for the younger members when they first get assigned to their company. These shared tattoo designs are important both for group cohesion and as a means of identifying fallen Rohirrim even if the deceased isn’t known to whoever finds the body.

Beyond these ritualized and practical functions, I do also like to think that there are some purely decorative tattoos among them as a means of personal expression and/or to help cover small scars that so many Rohirrim have from battle, riding accidents or other mishaps. Obviously horse-based designs would be very popular, as well as other flora and fauna of Rohan. But they’re a very sentimental people and so I think little emotional signifiers would also be very common (again, especially because they generally don’t have a means to pay tribute to beloved people/things in written form, this sort of symbol would serve the purpose of making some kind of record of those tributes).

In terms of specific people in my head canon: Éomer has a little simbelmynë blossom for each of the major figures in his life that he’s lost (forearm). Háma had a sun to remind him of his wife, who brought warmth and light to his life (shoulder). Théodred had stars in the shape of a particular constellation that is visible every year on his mother’s birthday (chest). Éowyn has a representation of her father’s sword (left wrist) and gets a quill (right wrist) to represent Faramir after they get married. (Faramir got a little running horse in her honor on his first trip to Rohan. He was glad he did it, but he never wants to sit through that again.)

Merry brought tattooing back to the Shire when he showed up with a tobacco pipe on his bicep (both for its association with Buckland and in tribute to Théoden, whose last words to Merry were about smoking together someday when peace was restored). Unsurprisingly, tattoos did not catch on with the other hobbits, but Merry remains very proud of it.

Anywayyyy…I hope that was in any way helpful! Thanks so much for asking!! I remain a huge fan and am so grateful to you for helping convince me to put some of my thoughts and stories out there vs keeping them all in the confines of my own Google drive!

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #asks #answered asks #rohan #rohirrim #éomer #éowyn #háma #théodred #merry #faramir #lotr headcanon #tattoos

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heckofabecca · 4 years

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some headcanons for morwen steelsheen’s daughters

l-r, oldest-younger, Morneth, Cynwise, Forodiel. (WIP. Not pictured: Théodwyn.)

1. Morneth, b. winter 2953.

Stern, book-smart, and patient.

Morneth, like her mother, has black hair that she likes to leave unbound before she marries. (Her mother is scandalized—Gondorian girls bind their hair from childhood.) She also has her mother’s gray eyes.

She takes easily to reading and inhales the written word.

Her handwriting is fantastic, and she’s a good harpist.

From age twelve, she serves as a scribe for her mother and Morwen’s Gondorian ladies-in-waiting for non-private matters.

Her harp skills stem more from patient practice than innate talent.

Morneth is a middling fighter and poor bookkeeper—when she eventually marries a lord from Lossarnach, she has a kinswoman to help manage her household, and she never picks up a sword again.

Morneth is only a few months older than Elfhild, Théoden’s wife. She has little in common with Elfhild, but she appreciates how Elfhild listens closely whenever Morneth is explaining something. During the spring of Théoden’s courtship, Elfhild and Morneth practice harps together.

Elfhild and Théoden marry in 2977. Morneth and Elfhild become closer over the following year, but Elfhild dies in childbirth while Morneth is in the room.

Elfhild’s death brings Théoden and Morneth closer than they had ever been. The relationship she has with him in the next few years is the closest she ever is with a sibling.

Morneth dotes on baby Théodred, but as he’s given to a nurse, she soon longs for her own child.

Morneth marries in 2980 at 27, just a few months before her father dies.

She leaves for Gondor and rarely returns. She (and Morwen) return when Théodwyn dies in 3002, which is the only time she meets Éomer and Éowyn as children, and for Théoden’s funeral in 3019.

She and Théoden exchange letters a few times a year until the war—and Théoden’s health—make it difficult.

In Lossarnach, her interests are limited to her three children (two sons and a much-longed-for daughter, Lassil), her nearby relatives, and her library.

Unfortunately, Morneth never achieves a truly close relationship with Lassil, who’s too sociable to enjoy being holed up in a study like Morneth is.

When her second son is grown, he becomes Morneth’s true favorite.

At her husband’s urging, she takes an interest in local education.

Lothíriel of Dol Amroth visits Morneth and Morwen in Lossarnach in 3015 and helps in one of Morneth’s schools for an afternoon. She is deeply struck by the experience, and later bases her efforts to educate the people of Rohan on Morneth’s work in Lossarnach. (Lothíriel’s efforts in Rohan are less successful—she is seen as colonizing and southernizing the Mark—but useful for those who seek it out.)

After Théodwyn is married in 3890, Morwen returns to Lossarnach and eventually settles into Morneth’s household. She joins Morneth on a final voyage to Rohan after Théodwyn dies in 3002.

As the years grow darker under the shadow of Mordor, it is Morwen, not Morneth, who writes to Théoden to encourage him to join with Gondor.

Morneth is little bothered by war and politics; Morwen is far more politically astute.

After the war, Morneth travels north to Rohan for Théoden’s burial. She stays a short time and returns to Lossarnach.

Her wedding gift to Éowyn in 3020 is a set of books about Gondor.

2. Cynwise, b. spring 2955.

A sharp tongue, a passionate temper, and a snarky sense of humor.

Cynwise has brown hair, gray eyes, and a heart-shaped face. She’s the most comely of her sisters, but her face lights up in the best way.

She is the best shieldmaiden among her sisters, though like Morneth she prefers reading.

She marries Théoden’s lieutenant Egric at 26 in 2981, but he is killed by orcs a year later. As a childless widow, she returns to her father’s house.

Cynwise stays in Meduseld until her youngest sister Théodwyn marries Éomund in 2990. At 35, she moves with 27-year-old Théodwyn to Aldburg, where she becomes fluent in Rohirric, becomes lovers with Éomund’s widowed sister Effe, and teaches her niece and nephew to read and write.

At Thengel’s court, Westron was used more than the language of the Mark. Only Théoden gains fluency in the Mark’s native language before coming of age, and Morneth never really learns it at all.

Cynwise is bisexual. She loved her husband and mourned him; she loves Effe and hopes to never mourn her.

More notably, Cynwise teaches Éowyn to fight.

After the deaths of her sister and brother-in-law in 3002, Cynwise, 47, Cynwise brings Éomer and Éowyn to Meduseld and stays for some months before returning to Aldburg and Effe. They keep house in Aldburg, finish raising Effe’s two sons, and wait for Éomer to reclaim his seat.

Both of Effe’s sons are of age within five years. The elder joins the éored that will one day be Éomer’s command; the younger works overseeing Aldburg’s herd and training young horses.

Effe had three other children, but they all died in the cradle.

Cynwise spends three years in Meduseld (3014-3017, ages 59-62) to tend to her ailing brother before she is driven out by Gríma Wormtongue, who publicly exposes her relationship with Effe. Their relationship was a badly-kept secret in Aldburg, but once out, had to be addressed.

Cynwise is not very patient with her brother. She’s a poor nurse at the best of times, and to watch a brother she admired become so frail is more than she can bear. Not to mention Gríma, who becomes bolder during her stay.

While in Edoras, Cynwise becomes close with her nephew Théodred, who has a secret love of his own. When Théodred dies two years after Cynwise’s expulsion from Edoras, Cynwise goes into full mourning, which is normally reserved for parents and children.

With Cynwise’s forced departure, Éowyn, 22, must now bear the brunt of Gríma’s emotional abuse essentially alone.

After the War of the Ring, Cynwise, 64, stands in for Éowyn’s mother during the wedding preparations and ceremony. During Faramir’s long stay in Edoras after Théoden’s burial, he and Cynwise talk at length about Théodred and Boromir. (It’s not a subject Éomer is comfortable with.)

Despite having no children, despite her relationship with Effe, despite her temper, it is Cynwise who proves the most dutiful of her sisters where the Riddermark is concerned. She is the most involved in the Mark’s politics, provides useful council in Edoras and Aldburg, and is the only sister to tend to her ailing brother.

3. Forodiel, b. autumn 2961.

Sharp-tongued, perceptive, creative, and bipolar.

“Daughter of the North.” Forodiel is the first of Morwen’s daughters to have her father’s yellow hair and blue eyes. Like Morneth, she has a long nose, and like Cynwise, a heart-shaped face. The shortest, slightest, and most beautiful of the sisters.

She’s aware of her beauty, and she can be vain.

She’s a difficult child, and can be a difficult adult. As a girl, she had few lasting friends, and as a young woman, few suitors who persisted for reasons beyond her beauty and position. But she’s a fundamentally good person who generally means well, even if her “meaning well” often goes beyond a scope most people could manage.

Forodiel reads slowly—she’s dyslexic. Other than that, she works quickly when not in a slump, so she dislikes reading as a rule.

However, she’s a gifted archer. Women’s archery contests are common festival events during her youth, and she excels. At ten, she shot an apple out of Cynwise’s hands during a summer picnic, which got her a beating.

Forodiel and Cynwise do not get on. They’re both sharp-tongued, and Forodiel would constantly get underfoot as a girl. Plus, they competed for Théodwyn’s attention. By the time Cynwise is 16 and Forodiel is 10… well.

She’s also a good singer and harpist. When she hears a song or chant that she likes, she learns it quickly.

Unlike Morneth, she has a natural gift for both singing and the harp. She wouldn’t have had the patience to persist at it if she wasn’t a talented (and quick) learner to begin with.

Swidhelm, her eventual husband, was born the same year and is bipolar himself. He’s the grandson of a lord from the West-enmet; his visits to Edoras are almost always short, but he recognizes Forodiel as a kindred spirit. However, he manages to get himself a post in Edoras in 2987. Forodiel falls in love with him quickly.

Still, she refuses him multiple times between 2987-2988 before she’s convinced he knows exactly what he’s getting into. Forodiel is privately uncomfortably aware of how difficult she can be by the time she’s of age.

Théoden is not happy that a sister of his—his most beautiful sister! a real beauty!—should want to marry the second son of a second son. Nor is Morwen, for that matter. Still, when Swidhelm asks permission, Théoden agrees on the spot without consulting his mother, which Morwen resents.

The crux of the matter for Théoden: Forodiel’s unwillingness to marry any of her more suitable suitors left Théoden in an awkward position with more than one of the Mark’s best men. Having her settled far from Edoras makes her less of a sore subject.

Forodiel and Swidhelm marry in Meduseld in April, 2989. They remove to the West-enmet in May.

Forodiel’s grandfather-in-law, the lord, is alive for two years after her marriage. He’s extremely fond of Forodiel and calls her the jewel of the West-enmet. At his death, he bequeaths a parcel of land to Swidhelm close to Fangorn, where Forodiel oversees the restoration of a ruined tower-house with alarming competency.

This somewhat reconciles Théoden to the marriage: Forodiel’s children will now have a home of their own, one that befits the children of a princess.

Forodiel has six children.

A son (Aeldun, b. 2990) and daughter (Aethelfled, b. 2992) both die as children from a plague in 2997 while visiting their lordly uncle. No one in Forodiel’s family ever met them.

Her twin sons Oswald and Ethelwold (b. 2994) meet their mother’s family in 3002 after their aunt Théodwyn dies. They die in skirmishes: Oswald in 3016 and Ethelwold in 3018.

The youngest children, Thengel (b. 2999) and Aelfrith (b. 3001), are too young to truly fight in the war. Still, Thengel takes an active part in the ongoing struggles against orcs and hill-men sent from Isengard to weaken the West-enmet’s defences. Both children fight alongside their parents when their keep is under direct attack in early 3019. Aelfrith loses an ear in the fight.

After the war, Forodiel, 58, and Swidhelm travel to Edoras for Théoden’s funeral. Forodiel is privately satisfied to think that she was more beautiful than Éowyn at 24; Swidhelm teases her about it, but concedes that she’s right.

Once home, Forodiel and Swidhelm work closely with Swidhelm’s second cousin, the new lord, to manage rebuilding the West-enmet. Forodiel’s skills are praised, and her advice is sought by others around the Mark.

4. Théodwyn, b. summer 2963.

Gentle (no one knows where she got that from), clever, and generally cheerful, but prone to depression.

Théodwyn has gold hair and gray eyes. Like her mother, she’s tall.The most beloved of all the girls—beloved by her father, her brother, and all three sisters. She was a happy, shy baby, more lovely as a young child than even Forodiel. Despite the favor she has, she’s rarely haughty.

Théodwyn doesn’t really understand Morneth, and Forodiel scared her too often as children for Théodwyn to be fully comfortable with her. Her favorite sister is Cynwise.

Théodwyn is a slow reader—she has a slower processing speed than the rest of her sisters.

She has a beautiful voice, though it takes her a long time to memorize a song.

After Cynwise’s husband dies in 2981, Théodwyn becomes closer with her than ever.

Her voice and smile captured Éomund’s heart more than anything else.

They have a short courtship. They meet properly and marry in 2990.She’s clever and gentle enough to calm much of his anger in far less time—and with far less shouting—than others would take. It doesn’t take too long for him to realize how well she manages him once they’re married. After that, he’s even happier about his choice.

Théodwyn is hugely relieved when Cynwise agrees to come to Aldburg. She’s less pleased when she finds out some months later that Cynwise and her new sister-in-law have become lovers, but she agrees not to tell her husband unless he explicitly asks.

Éomund’s duties as Third Marshall take him from home often, and Cynwise and Effe are discreet enough to evade notice while Éomund is alive.

Théodwyn is reluctant to let Cynwise teach Éowyn to fight, but Éomund rightly points out that Cynwise is the best fighting woman in Aldburg.

In time, Théodwyn accepts Cynwise and Effe’s relationship.

Of all the sisters, Théodwyn has the “best” marriage. She’s married to one of the highest lords in the land, and she’s the only sister who hosts Théoden in her married home. However, Éomund’s long period away from home make it less happy than Forodiel’s marriage and far less blissful than what Cynwise and Effe have.

When Éomund is away, Théodwyn is far less cheerful than when he’s at home. Cynwise and Effe go to often great lengths to keep her active and involved.

When Théodwyn is dying, she asks Cynwise and Effe to raise her children. Instead, Théoden brings them into his household to raise as his own.

Cynwise brings Éomer and Éowyn to Edoras when summoned, where she tells Théoden of Théodwyn’s wish. Théoden tells Cynwise that she can stay in Meduseld to assist, but that the children will be far better for growing up in Edoras. Cynwise longs to argue, but she can’t bear the thought of leaving Effe, even for her niece and nephew. It’s a decision Cynwise grapples with for the rest of her brother’s life, particularly during the years she spends nursing Théoden before the War of the Ring and seeing how Éowyn and Éomer are still scarred by their parents’ deaths.

Théodwyn’s death in 3002 prompts a Meduseld family reunion of sorts, one that is never repeated. Théoden (54) and Théodred (24) receive Éomer (11), Éowyn (7), and Cynwise (47) from Aldburg; Forodiel (40) and her twin sons Oswald and Ethelwold (8); and Morwen (80) and Morneth (49) from Lossarnach.

Forodiel takes an instant liking to pretty Éowyn, and her sons, like Éomer, latch onto Théodred.

Morneth and Théoden take early rides together whenever he can manage it.

Morwen checks that the scribe she left in charge of Meduseld’s library has kept things up to standard. She tells stories to the gathered grandchildren, and even Théodred listens, if only to hear the melody of her voice.

Forodiel and Morwen talk about losing their children. Cynwise and Forodiel make peace.

At night, Éomer and Éowyn sneak into Cynwise’s bed. She holds them tight and tries not to let them feel her crying.

#morwen of lossarnach #morwen steelsheen #théodwyn #théoden #rohan #lotr #tolkien #lotr headcanons #morwen's daughters #my art #FEEL FREE to ask more anything #i know this is thousands of words but uh #feel free lol #this consumed me for many hours

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thecloserkin · 4 years

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fell down an éomer/éowyn rabbithole, 100% @spookyshai’s fault, have a grab bag of recs

I rewatched The Two Towers and it’s clear to me Karl Urban has chemistry with everyone up to and including lampposts. Just a reminder everyone make sure you watch the extended cut not the theatrical cut, it’s worth it just for Éowyn’s face when she finds out Aragorn is 87 years old.

I am a slut for angst but even so these fics hurt me. The “darkest before the dawn” vibe is strong with this pairing, half the fic is them fucking before he rides off to patrol, and they’ve got that unhealthily-codepdenedent-orphan-children angle going for them too.

Care by Halrloprillalar (1k)— literally the platonic ideal of a bedsharing fic, @spookyshai calls the prose “disgustingly beautiful” and i could not agree more: “Éomer learned her body, intent upon each curve, as though he were a skald and Éowyn a verse that he was making.”

Hope by elceri (1.2k)—whatever you think of the one-sidedness of Éowyn’s attraction to Aragorn that chemistry was through the fucking roof (there was zero chemistry with Faramir). i loved how this fic drew on the parallels between Éowyn and Aragorn’s plights: they are both profoundly lonely people looking over the horizon for their beloved’s return (Éomer, Arwen—well Aragorn has mixed feelings about Arwen returning since it would mean she chose mortality but ykwim). Y’all know by now that the seamless progression of platonic affection to romantic attachment is my kryptonite, so this is the line that gutted me: “the soft kisses and caresses that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember and the heated lovemaking that had come with age. She could not fathom a life without him, for as long as she had known life, there had been him. Only him. Only Éomer.” And headcanoning Théodred as gay so he promised to marry Éowyn as a beard and then her and Éomer could continue as they were??? i swear my soul ascended on the spot

My Own by Rainchilde (2.7k, warning for noncon)—one of the most shippable aspects of their relationship has always been Grima Wormtongue lurking in the shadows, because you have on the one hand A STALKER and otoh the person whom she trusts and values most in the world. the contrast is plain. i’m all for scenarios where the stalker’s unwanted attentions drive the girl into her brother’s arms (see Dante’s Stars) but this fic actually examines what Éomer has in common with Grima, viz. he wants to make Éowyn his yet she is just as unattainable to him as to Grima

Made Bare by Dana (0.4k)—I am always here for horny swordplay: “He licks his lips, watching her, parted lips and parted legs, and the pounding of his heart is a dull roar in his ears.”

Steadfast by hesychasm (3.3k) — they get it on in the stables asdfdfkdjfdkf it’s extra sexy bc of their shared history, they’re children of Rohan they were practically born in the saddle and it’s just. so hot. This is the eve of her official engagement to Faramir and Éomer has left the banquet hall early for Reasons; we get nuggets of internal monologue from him like: “I judged the mare a good enough gift for my sister, though Gondor-bred.” The subtext being no man or beast in all of Gondor is good enough for Éowyn lmaooo. "Can I not love you both?” she protests, and he says, ”I do not believe even your heart is so great." Ouch ouch ouch. On the subject of her husband-to-be: “He knows already who is first in my heart."

Blood Remembers by musesfool (2.4k) — So many shared memories, moments, milestones! For instance, it’s she who comforts him after he has to give a comrade the mercy stroke. Losing their virginity to each other is such a logical extension & culmination of all that history: “’I dreamt you were dead,’ she whispered … She ran her fingers over the arch of his cheek, the bow of his lips, and followed her hand with her mouth … His hands touched her in places no man had ever touched before. His lips sought hers and the gentle good night kisses they'd shared over the years transmuted into something harder, darker, more urgent.” AND THEN: “The years have passed swiftly since that night, and no other man has yet stirred her blood to such passion. She believes none ever will, and is reconciled to a life alone.” KILL ME NOW GAHHH

Dirt and Gold by Empyreus (1k)—outsider POV Gríma, i’m pretty sure this fic was written specifically FOR ME jesus fucking christ so Éomer and Éowyn are lowkey banging and Gríma apparently lingers at keyholes to listen???: “‘You reek of him, of your brother the wild rider,’ he had wanted to say. "I can feel the sweat that surely slicked your skin.’” Also this: "Is there anything you will deny him? For all your ice, you too burn when the heat is too fierce. When your brother tells you to burn."

Hammer and Tongs by Halrloprillalar (1.6k) —she forges him a blade!!! which is only the most romantic gesture of all time. i’m LIVING for the amount of sneaking around that happens: “All know the Lady of Rohan has a great love for her brother …They do not know that she goes to him at night, walking the halls without a candle, carrying a posset for him, lest she need an excuse.”

In My Darkest Hour by elceri (3k)—Plottier than some of the pornier fics I’ve rounded up here but this conversation is EVERYTHING: “Éomer! The last thing Rohan needs at this time is a martyr!" "I would rather be a martyr than a hypocrite … It will not come to that, my sister, I promise you. My willingness to make the sacrifice does not mean I invite it, or would accept it willingly." "So said Theodred.” ”I am not Theodred." “Then why do you come to me? To prophesy your own death? I am not accustomed to such ominous words from you, brother." "I come to you for strength, Éowyn … Dark have been my days and nights, and dark will they be, and you have been my only light. If I am never to see you again, by that villain's hand, then I want to carry some of that light with me to whatever end may come."

Survivors by CanonIsRelative (1k)—omg they are having messy quickies in the stables??? Éomer and Éowyn have evidently been practicing the pull-out method of contraception up until this one time on the eve of battle and then they’re like fuck it. This is Éowyn’s Return to me victorious: “I await you, my lord, and a year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return. Come back with your helm upon your brow, or resting in state upon your breast.”

Swordplay by elceri (1k)—outsider POV, Théoden and Gríma watch the boys show Éowyn the ropes down in the practice yard: ”She has her brother's talent with the sword—see how quickly she learns!" "If your words are true, Sire, then when she is twenty you will have two strong-willed, hot-headed warriors in your house, aided and abetted by an older cousin who seems to think that life is indeed one long game!"

#desperately wish i could read german so i could devour this 63K FIC CHILLIN HERE IN THE TAG #eowyn x eomer #Eomer x Eowyn #fic rec #fic roundup

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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I struggle with figuring out what the expectations are for aristocratic marriage in Gondor and Rohan. One thing I’ve toyed about with in my head is treating LOTR as not just unreliably narrated, but as super unreliably narrated, and taking ‘the Steward and the King’ not as gospel, but essentially as a bit of PR/marketing. Because wow, isn’t it really, really convenient that the Steward of Gondor/second most powerful man in the realm gets married to the most powerful woman of the Riddermark, Gondor’s closest ally? Isn’t that a little too convenient? What if Frodo just copies down the press release given to him by Faramir and instead of being this stunning high romance, he and Éowyn are basically just a run-of-the-mill political marriage?

(Obviously I don’t believe this fully, but it is an interesting thought.)

Here’s where it becomes harder to justify though, and here’s why I’m really confused about how marriage works for both Gondor and Rohan’s nobility.

If political marriage were a thing in either of them, it stands to reason that it’s quite strange that neither Boromir nor Théodred are married with kids. The appendices say that Denethor ‘married late’ for having married Finduilas when he was forty-six, but when Boromir dies he’s forty-one. So he’s not far off at all. Théodred is the same age as Boromir, and we know that Théoden was married to Elfhild at least by the time that he was thirty, though he probably married her before that. So Théodred’s really late.

So not only do neither of the heirs have kids, they’re not even married. Even if they didn’t have kids, you would think that, if political marriages were the norm, they’d be shipped off post-haste, right? Dol Amroth was secured in its loyalty to MT through Denethor marrying Finduilas (and obviously the whole happy go luck proto-nationalism shit that’s going on), and it seems like the rest of the major provinces are mostly in line, so why not use a marriage to secure the alliance with the Mark? I would have Boromir married off to Éowyn ASAP since there are no women to marry off to Théodred. But the fact that that doesn’t happen is interesting, I think. And also really complicates my HC that Éomer/Lothíriel is mostly a political thing, tbh.

It’s all even more interesting in light of Faramir’s line in TTT where he’s explaining why the Kings of Gondor fell apart:

Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry...

Because, like, buddy, you are a childless lord sitting in an aged hall. And not only that, but since his brother was unmarried and childless before his death, he was probably always going to become the Steward at some point anyways, even if only briefly. So it’s not like he gets to claim amnesty via spare-status, because until the moment Boromir had kids (which he never did), he was constantly in secondary heir mode. So??? why wasn’t Faramir married off either? My dude was THIRTY-SIX during the war. He could’ve had fuckin hunners of kids by that point, but you’re telling me everyone was just gucci with him maintaining bachelor status?

Also, Faramir pointing it out does have the effect of politicising marriage somewhat. We know that Faramir’s somewhat out of step politically with the rest of Gondor, at least that in he appears to be very, very obsessed with bringing back the Númenor stuff and criticising Gondor over the last five hundred or so years. So if he’s diagnosed this childless lords problem as a problem that led to Gondor’s decay, he’s probably doing it because others don’t really see it that way. ‘Others’ here could be either Boromir (see the bottom of this post) or it could be Gondorians generally, we can’t know. Either way, Lord Faramir, thirty-six years old and unmarried, seems to think that lords not ensuring there were heirs to their houses was a problem. That contradiction/incidental hypocrisy is noteworthy!

I’ve typically taken this in my fics as an indication that the war was quite an intense and cataclysmic thing even before the official War of the Ring starts, and that all of these guys are way, way too busy dealing with that to consider marrying, but that opens up the question — when did things get so dire that securing the future of the ruling houses got deprioritised? Sauron openly declared himself in TA2951, but twenty-six-ish years later both Denethor and Théoden get married, so marriage is still at play in ~TA2976. Not a huge amount happens between 2976 and 3018 in explicit canon. We know that Elrond recalls Arwen from Lórien in 3009 because everything east of the Misty Mountains is becoming dangerous. By this time Boromir and Théodred are 31 and Faramir is 26, which made me wonder if it would be reasonable to have expected any of them to be married at that point. I did some quick math to see how old the title-holders were when they were married, stopping at the fifth generation back to accommodate Thorondir, who was the first Steward to not crack a century of life. Here’s what I’ve got:

(Where an actual wedding year wasn’t given, I based it on the year their eldest child was born.)

(Worth noting that Denethor’s not that much older than Ecthelion likely was when he married, so the ‘married old’ remark could instead be a reference to when Gondorians got married generally, not specifically to the Númenórean lot.)

There’s a chance all these guys got married way, way earlier and just spent ages childless, but… I sort of doubt that. Also I’m doing this based on what I can access from my laptop, so both HoME and PoME might contradict me or give more specific dates. If that’s the case — sorry!

It is interesting that if we accept HoME’s dating of Faramir and Éowyn’s wedding as TA3020 as canon, then Faramir (married at 37) is actually younger than the average for the previous five generations of Stewards. So is Éomer, because by marrying Lothíriel in 3021 he’s actually just getting in early by a a year or so.

Regardless, it makes statistical sense that neither Boromir nor Faramir are married by 3009, though Théodred is sort of pushing it. Certainly by 3018 when he dies he’s really taking the piss, but Boromir is still sort of in the clear (but getting up there), and Faramir’s kind of fine.

We know, at least, that there’s a canonical acknowledgement of Boromir’s bachelor status, per Appendix A:

Rather he was a man after the sort of King Eärnur of old, taking no wife and delighting chiefly in arms.

No accounting for Théodred, though based on Faramir’s bitching about Rohan and Gondor becoming more alike, you could probably chalk it up to the same thing as Boromir. I note, however, that Théodred’s need is slightly more urgent because in absence of an heir from Théodred, the throne would then pass to Éomer. I think we might reasonably assume that he wouldn’t have a problem with this (Théoden might have, given how effective Wormtongue’s manoeuvring was), but we can’t know for certain.

Worth pointing out as well that Elphir’s son Alphros is born in 3017, so it’s not like nobody is getting it on.

I was interested in what the numbers for the ladies would look like, and obviously this is complicated by the fact that there’s like twenty named human women and even fewer with birth dates/marriage dates, but here’s what the table looks like:

(Because so many of the women we know of are women who crossed between Rohan and Gondor, I put them in columns based on their birth culture, not where they married into.)

Also here’s some fuel for the age gap discourse:

(Can you tell I’m procrastinating my dissertation???)

Anyways, outside of some apparent liberalism towards the ol’ begetting of heirs, there’s not a huge amount of information floating around to help us understand how or if marriage was understood politically in Rohan and Gondor. You get bits and pieces (Aragorn’s ‘no niggard are you, Éomer’ comment at Éowyn and Faramir’s trothplighting, for example, Wormtongue being after Éowyn, for another), but nothing extended or particularly explicit.

Just one of those things, really…

#just having some Thoughts really #lotr #long post #also lmao just realised that alphros being born in 3017 buggers my AFTA timeline for fuck’s sake

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themoonlily · 3 years

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Hi! I found your stories on a ficrec list for Eomer/Lothiriel and WOW!!! MUCH LOVE!!!!! I can't wait to read more wonderful stories from you! Can I ask what got you into this pairing, and what draws you to them? Also: any headcannons about them? (Physical/personality/hobbies/etc.)

Hi there! I am so glad to hear you like my stories. :)

I would say that I got to Éothiriel thanks to Éomer. I can't say I fell in love with him straightaway - I was your typical Aragorn fangirl back in the day (mind you, he’s still one of my favourite characters in the legendarium). I had always enjoyed the bits with Rohan in particular, and the more I watched the films, the more I liked Éomer, and once I had read the books a couple of times, I realised there was so much more to this guy. I loved his integrity, his unashamed passion, his loyalty and devotion to his family and friends, and how he strives to do better and learn.

His arc in the books is such a fascinating one. He starts out as a scion of one of the leading families of Rohan (and is a son of a princess, no less), but is orphaned along with his sister at an early age, and then raised by the King himself. What kind of a trauma did that loss leave him with, and how did it affect his relationship with his sister? Were his teenage years very difficult thanks to this? At the time of the events of LOTR, he’s a fairly young man - among the youngest of the entire cast - and yet he has this hugely important duty as the Third Marshal of the Mark. He’s passionate but also ready to put himself and his own needs aside in order to do what’s right. The whole House of Eorl dynamics are just so fascinating, even though a lot of it happens outside the actual narrative of LOTR. What are his relationships with his uncle, his cousin, and his sister? How does this partnership with Théodred grow (to the point of Saruman seeing these two as the chief obstacle of the easy conquest of Rohan)? What does it feel like to watch his beloved uncle fall under the influence of ill-intended counsels (not to mention the threat of Wormtongue against Éowyn)? Éomer is portrayed as a fairly temperamental guy, so I can only imagine the fury he must feel at the situation.

But then Théodred dies, the noose tightens around everybody’s throats, and one may just imagine the desperation and dread he must feel at this point. He’s still figthing and trying to do the right thing, even if that may now mean treason. But he’s still friendly to Aragorn and co. when they meet, recognising them as an opportunity to help Rohan almost immediately.

He’s so loyal to his family that even after he’s been disgraced and humiliated by Wormtongue by the proxy of Théoden, he still knows where the true malice is coming from, and is ready to fight again for his uncle the moment he’s released. And he slips straight back to being the King’s lieutenant without even blinking his eyes.

There’s also how Éomer becomes king. I’m fascinated with what it would feel like to him. I mean, he’s been second in line to the throne his whole life, so he probably always realised there’s a chance he’ll be king one day. But the circumstances he comes to the throne - the near ruin of his country, the tragic and violent death of his cousin he might have been able to prevent if not for Wormtongue, the brief time he has with his restored uncle, and then the whole mess of the War of the Ring... all that must feel pretty surreal for him. And, of course, the Battle of Pelennor’s fields, and his scenes in it... wow. Him nearly losing his mind over thinking his sister (and whole family) is dead, charging like a madman over the field, composing some pretty amazing poetry in the spur of the moment, and then just laughing in sheer defiance against what seems like imminent death. What a dude.

And then there are so many other interesting aspects: how he must have felt over those long years (was he unhappy? was he lonely?), what he expected his life to be versus what it turned out to be, and what it did to him to watch his family leave one by one. I could go on, but then we would be here whole day.

So, enter Lothíriel. Of course I was eager to know what happens to Éomer after the war is over, and fortunately, Tolkien had an answer ready - although he could really have told us more about them! Not that in canon there is anything to imply it was a love marriage, but personally, I don’t think that a man with a disposition like Éomer would submit to a loveless or faithless marriage (or that he’d risk his relationship with Imrahil by being faithless). I just can’t see it happening. Also I just want him to be happy, and find someone who brightens up his days, someone who won’t leave him. It’s nice to imagine him having a new start with her.

Sadly, of her personality I can’t say anything that would be indicated by canon, but if we imagine her being anything like her father, then she might be a proud, strong and brave woman. Well, she would probably have to be courageous to leave her homeland for marriage (another reason I think it was a love union, because I want her to be happy, too)! I like to imagine her finding some unexpected, unimagined freedom in Rohan, perhaps even fulfilment of ambition in her role as a queen. Also, maybe with her background and if she had access to some kind of education, she’d be uniquely qualified to helping Éomer to rule and counseling him. Perhaps she even feels some personal pride over the fact that together, they are starting a new dynasty (or a new line) to rule in Rohan. Also, having a fairly big family, I think she would be well equipped to show him the love he has missed most of his life.

I recall at some point reading the appendix about the House of Eorl, and that Éomer married Imrahil’s daughter, Lothíriel, and thinking yes, this makes sense. It’s just the sense I gleaned from the interactions and circumstances of the story. Of course Éomer would have strong feelings for Imrahil, since he was the one who saw that Éowyn was still alive and hastened her delivery to safety. Being a man of strong emotions, I think Éomer would hold Imrahil and his entire family in high regard thanks to this. Maybe it’s even a ground from which some attachment did grow between him and Lothíriel. Also, Rohirrim are a culture based on horses, and apparently the Princes of Dol Amroth also maintain a cavalry (the Swan Knights who, with Imrahil, took part in the Battle of Pelennor fields). So I see there definitely being a lot of points of connection!

Of course, it also fits the socio-political frame we are left with at the end of the story: the new unity among the Free Peoples, the task of rebuilding after the war, and this new blooming of the friendship between Rohan and Gondor. On a purely logical level, it is reasonable that he’d marry the daughter of a powerful house like Imrahil’s. But for my purely headcanonish “aesthetic” (if that’s even the right word) reasons I do like the contrast these two make: their different cultures (and all that they entail from songs and poetry to foods and habits), their union as the union of earth and sea, his gold to her silver, the warrior and the lady... also this is purely headcanon/tropes but I definitely think of them as tol/smol and embodying the pair where A is the reason B began to smile again. (Tol/smol is at least half canon because Éomer is apparently as tall as Aragorn, like 6 feet 6 if I recall right. Since he’s also a professional warrior, he’s probably built like it too.)

So, yeah - I guess that’s already a lot of reasons for why I love this pair! There’s just so much potential there, so many avenues to pursue, and so much food for imagination. If you’re interested in more of my headcanons, you could try searching the tag “Éothiriel” in my blog - I’ve got plenty of posts about them!

Thanks for the ask, and sorry for this answer being so long! I rather got carried away and Éomer deserves every bit of the love he gets, and so does Lothíriel.

#Éomer #Eomer #Lothíriel #Lothiriel #Éothiriel #eomer x lothiriel

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ravennawritesfanfiction · 5 years

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Souls of Time- Eomer

Chapter Summary: Recounted is the original life of the soul mates as Eomer and Rohana/Reyna. They mark the first known pair of soul mates that Gandalf knows of (though they aren’t the first occurrence ever).

Taglist: @schatzi-89

Éomer and his sister Éowyn were orphaned and adopted by their Uncle Théoden, King of Rohan. Éowyn was given several Ladies in waiting to care for her. Most of the job consisted of being her friend. She hated having so many people around, fussing over her every move. It didn’t take long for her to find a reason to let each one go until only one remained.

This one single Lady had been different from all of the others right from the beginning; unlike the others who wanted the attention from the Riders for being apart of the court, this one had taken her role seriously and always been there for Éowyn. She had even become friends with Éomer and took on the role of counsel to him as well, though she was never asked to. It was rare for him to take comfort in someone outside of Éowyn, but here they were. So, when it was all said and done, she remained on the court.

Lady Rohana often kept to her duties, only stealing away when one of her friends needed her. She was the same age as Éowyn, so her duties, which she inherited from a young age, started off small and grew as they got older. When she was younger, her major duties included etiquette lessons with Éowyn and Éomer taught her how to ride for her troubles, though she knew it was a ploy so he wouldn’t have to be alone. He always told her that a Lady of Rohan should know how to ride.

After the riding lessons, which took them far beyond the village, they would sit in meadows and enjoy each other’s company. Had she been anyone else, this would have been wildly inappropriate, but taking care of the siblings had fallen to her as a guide. Somedays, they would sit in silence and listen to the breeze as it rattled the tall grasses. Their hair would blow into their faces and abstract the view. Other days, they would talk of their hopes and dreams for the future. Éomer said he enjoyed teaching others to ride so much that he thought that teaching his kids to ride was the one thing he hoped for the most. Rohana said she wanted to marry someone who understood her and would honor her. She wanted a child, but she also wanted to be important to others. She had been born to a farmer and status wasn’t something that was held by her family. Éomer never said much, but he would watch her as she spoke with a quiet understanding.

Théoden King often enjoyed her company; finding that even though she was not of noble lineage, she had a noble mind. She did not seek out fights or battles, but the Lady wasn’t one to shy away either. Éomer would join in discussions and debates between them. He learned more from her then he would have thought. She was a kind leader, but fierce when threatened. Skills, Éomer thought, would be best suited of a King and Queen.

Éomer became the Third Marshal of the Ridermark and he led his men as he had always seen Rohana do. He treated his men fairly and for that, he had their undying loyalty. They also knew that he would fight with everything that he had in him until the very end. He was one of the well-received Marshals in Rohan history.

Rohana was given a place on Théoden’s court of advisors. It was rare for a woman to hold such an office, though no one complained. She added composure to the room that kept heads level and egos to a minimum. She had nothing to prove, and that is why she had earned the King’s favor.

When Grima came to Rohan and took Théoden’s mind from him, Rohana was the first to be removed from the council. She saw through his deceptions and tried to fight him off. She was banned from the throne room. Grima Wormtonuge was made Chief Advisor to the King and the Realm of Rohan fell into deep despair. The Riders started finding Orcs where there had never been Orcs before. Saruman’s grasp on the world was getting tighter with each passing day.

When Théodred was killed, the king did not react, and it was clear then to everyone, what had been known to Rohana, Grima had Théoden under mind control. It was all one could do to look back at times long past. It was then that Rohana realized her feelings for Éomer were more than those of duty and friendship. Before anything could be said, the Riders were banished. Éomer had tried to attack Grima for acting a way towards Éowyn. When he was stooped and thrown from the palace, the Riders went with him.

Rohana feared for Éomer above all others. The Orcs were everywhere and the men had not been granted all the weapons they would have been traveling with. Nothing was looking good for Rohan. Every night Rohana would lie awake, terrified that the next day would bring news of Éomer’s death.

Éowyn had receded into herself out of fear of being thrown out herself. No one was safe and anything the worm said, Théoden King when along with. Never had times been so dark.

There was very little that Rohana was still allowed to do, so most days were spent riding. She was the first to see the Ridermark banner cresting the hill when Éomer and the riders returned with Gandalf and Aragorn. She rode out to meet them, afraid that she was imagining it all. Éomer, now safely in Rohan, removed his helmet so that he could talk with Rohana face to face. When she saw that he, as well as all the others, were safe, she started to cry.

Rohana and Éomer rode side by side back to the palace; everyone else followed out of respect. Everyone was instructed to wait outside until Gandalf was through with Théoden. Now that they weren’t on horseback, Rohana didn’t even try to disguise how much she had missed him. She was stuck to Éomer’s side. He had his arm around her; strangely protective of his dearest of friends.

No one said anything. The silence was only broken by the sound of Grima being thrown out by a freshly released Théoden King. Everyone kneeled for the first time since this whole ordeal began, before their king in light of their new hope.

Théoden’s first act of business was to apologize to Éomer and the Riders. Next, Rohana was restored to all of her former positions. After much convincing, Théoden was persuaded to joining the war efforts and everyone was moved to Helms Deep. All men and boys old enough to hold a weapon were enlisted and the women were sent deep into hiding.

After the initial attack and victory of Helms Deep, the men left the city for the final battle. Éowyn went with to help the hobbit. Rohana was placed in charge of the people. She was given a crown to show her role and she rode to the gates with the men. For the first time, she addressed Éomer as an equal. Those who heard her words, repeated them to no one, for they were meant for him and him alone. It had always been him.

“You return back to me, my Love.” He didn’t have to respond, his gesture was enough. With a soft caress of her face, he was off. He had a reason to return.

For days, she rode through the city as a sign of unity. She helped those who needed it and aided the nurses with the wounded from Helm’s Deep. A beacon was to be lit when their men returned. Until then, she kept busy to avoid thinking of the war raging outside.

It was late in the afternoon when the beacon ignited in all of its glory. She was taken to the gates where she waited on horseback to welcome their soldiers. Man after man entered the gates and bowed their heads to her as they passed. She stood there until every man was in, not once seeing Éomer, Éowyn, or Théoden. Her heart plummeted. She turned to follow the men into the city. She was to be Queen permanently in the event that none of them returned.

The gates were closing as shouts filled the air. A wagon approached with two escorts. It flew the Ridermark banner. The King was dead. She turned to stand at attention; praying that Éomer and Éowyn weren’t in that cart too. She could make out Aragorn leading the wagon. He never wore a helmet. The second was a rider, and as they approached closer, she knew the horse before she could see the rider. She took off in a bolt. He had seen her and ran ahead of the caravan. They were both off their horses and in each other’s arms before words could be spoken.

The wagon came to stop beside them. In it was Théoden, in his eternal sleep, having been killed in battle. Éowyn was with him, but she thankfully wasn’t dead, just hurt badly. She would live. She took off her crown and handed it to Éowyn and turned back to Éomer. She kissed him before he could process what was happening. He kissed back and picked her up. Éowyn took Rohana’s horse as she rode back into the city one Éomer’s horse.

Éomer was crowned king of Rohan. At his coronation, all bowed before their new king, including Rohana. She was back to being a Lady in waiting for a much improved Éowyn. Éomer approached Rohana and knelt down beside her.

“Lady Rohana,” he cradled her face just as he had when he had left, “will you be my Queen?” He helped her to her feet as Gandalf came over with a second crown.

“I’m not Noble. I am not fit to be Queen.” Rohana avoided eye contact.

“You are not Noble, but Théoden trusted the crown to you, now I am offering you something you have always wanted; someone who understands you and will honor you unconditionally. I am offering you the respect of an entire realm. Will you honor me as husband rather than a king?”

“Yes, my Love.” She was tearing up.

They didn’t want a huge wedding, but there was no reason to delay, the entire realm was already present. That day Rohan got a new King and Queen. Éomer became Éomer Éadig, King of Rohan and Rohana became Reyna Queen of Rohan.

Gandalf requested the right to perform the Soulmate test after they were wed on the grounds that her plea for him to return brought him home. Not expecting anything, they both agreed. The test was straight forward. They both represented half of a heart. If the two halves of heart smoke failed to join and be one, they were not soulmates; but if it did for a single, united heart, they were in fact soul mates. Of the dozen times Gandalf had tested couples, never had he seen a full heart. He also had not heard of a successful formation in this age.

The ceremony started and the two halves drifted up towards the sky until it hung over their heads. Then once it was high enough, the two halves started to swirl around each other until they were joined. There was hushed awe that fell over all who bore witness. Gandalf’s eyes twinkled and neither Éomer nor Reyna had ever felt so complete.

Just as Éomer had fulfilled all of Reyna’s hopes for the future, she fulfilled his. She bore him two children; a daughter, Rhoswyn and a son, Baylor. They ruled together for years; restoring Rohan to its original glory. Their rule is marked as one of the most prosperous in Rohan history and their descendants sat on the throne until the new age of man.

Reyna passed away first with her loving husband at her side. Her grave is marked with the Ridersmark and it bears two names. He had called her Rohana in private for the entirety of her life. Éomer passed not long after of a broken heart. He was laid to rest by his son and daughter next to Rohana.

Legend has it that the hill they were laid upon is still intact. Some say that the elves have protected it for all of these ages. It is a symbol of good faith they have in man. Before they both passed, Reyna was tasked with the duty to remember each life she lives with Éomer and to guide him in the next life as she did in the last

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