#frodo was living and says 'why would you ever leave why

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Established Steddie, they have been living together for over a decade, did their best to heal their wounds from the Upside Down and learn to enjoy life again. It's not easy but they do it.

When the Lord of the Rings movies come out, it's actually Steve who suggests watching them to Eddie. He really tries engaging with Eddie's passions, but his focus is not the greatest when it comes to books. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen to Eddie ramble about them though - he knows all about hobbits, second breakfasts, the culture of smoking in the Shire...Eddie admires a lot of characters from the books, but ever since experiencing the Upside Down fuckery, he actually admits that the hobbits had a point. Good food, even better company and good tobacco? What else does one need? It also inspires Steve a few years later to prepare a full day of hobbit-inspired meals for their trilogy marathon when the extended editions come out. But this is about their first time watching the movies.

They both go to the movie theater excited. Steve is familiar with most of the characters, including Eddie's self-admitted crush on Aragorn. And Steve can see why, he can see so much good in all the members of the fellowship. After the first movie, he's wiping his eyes because Boromir deserved better. Eddie has a lot to say about what was lost in adaptation, but Steve knows Eddie loves those movies and would cut off his only remaining nipple before missing the next ones.

The Two Towers have Steve rooting for the ents and he feels strangely touched about how everyone underestimates Pippin, yet it's him who gets the ents to march. He really can't pick a favorite character. He can't wait for the third movie.

They go to the premiere of the Return of the King with Eddie. They secretly hold hands in the last row, and Steve watches the ride of the Rohirrim with bated breath. He clenches his hand in Eddie's when Theoden gets gravely injured, but then Éowyn is there and...oh.

He is staring slack-jawed at the scene. Éowyn's large, terrified eyes, the towering frame of the Witch King. Her posture was fearful, crouched, but still she faced him. And something surfaces in his head, something he's long forgotten.

He's unusually queit when they come back home, he still loves the rest of the movie, almost cries at "my friends, you bow to no one,", then definitely cries at Frodo leaving the Middle Earth. But there is still that something and Eddie can sense it. When they're falling asleep together, Eddie finally asks him. And Steve's had enough time to process what he felt.

"When Éowyn faced the Witch King...it reminded me of what it felt like. I mean, for the first time. I know it's stupid because saw so much unnatural shit, but...it's the first time that I have hard time forgetting," he admits quietly. "She reminded me of me in 1983 so much. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I thought I'd do the right thing, but then I had a gun pointed at me, they both had blood on their hands...and then it appeared."

Eddie doesn't speak, he only holds Steve closer.

"It was so tall. I remember that petal-like mouth, those teeth, but mostly...I remember the crippling fear. I felt absolutely terrified. I couldn't move. There was even a moment when I thought of running away, but...I couldn't leave them there. Seeing someone go through something similar and being praised for being a hero...it makes me think. I used to be so ashamed for freezing in that moment. For even considering running away. But Éowyn...she was like me." There's awe in his voice and warmth, relief. "She had no idea what she was getting into. She froze. She didn't do everything perfectly and gracefully like Legolas or something, but when it mattered...she did what she had to."

He holds Eddie tighter and asks, almost shyly: "Will it offend you that I think she's my favorite character? Not Aragorn or Sam?"

Eddie just shakes his head and drops a kiss to Steve's hair. "Nah. She suits you well. And you're both amazing."

And if it becomes a silly endearment in their household, that Steve is sometimes called the Shieldmaiden of Hawkins? ("I'm not a maiden, Eddie!" "I'm not calling you a shieldboy or shieldbachelor, Steve!") Then Steve feels a hint of something that he thought he'd renounced, but now, for the first time he feels it's deserved - pride.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #lord of the rings steddie #not proofread I'm sleep deprived af

[velvet4510]

I cry when I think about Sam’s promise to never leave Frodo.

I cry when I think about how, in the book, the Elves say “don’t you leave him” as a concerned encouragement only because they know Frodo is being followed by Black Riders; they have no idea of the true gravity of the situation, or that these two hobbits will be going anywhere near the fortress of the Dark Lord himself.

I cry when I think about how Sam has already made up his mind completely when the Elves give him that advice, that he has already made the choice to go with Frodo anywhere, even the Moon, and to fight Black Riders for him. “Leave him????” the very idea is absurd to him already. He’s got it all figured out.

I cry when I think about how Sam doesn’t technically make his promise to the Elves; he makes it to Frodo, and more importantly, to himself. He just loves Frodo so much that he makes the promise to himself. “Never leave your master, that’s what you said, never, never!” Not what the Elves or Gandalf or anyone else said. What he himself said. What he vowed to himself for the sake of his greatest love.

I cry when I think about how, in the movie, Sam’s spoken excuse for his care for Frodo in the scene by the river is “I promised Gandalf,” but Sean Astin’s soulful performance reveals the aforementioned truth…in the boat scene all he says is “I made a promise,” he doesn’t say it was made to Gandalf….it’s the same as the book, he made the promise to himself…the emotion and love in his voice when he says “don’t you lose him and I don’t mean to”…a shy humble gardener’s way of saying “don’t you see? it’s not just about what a wizard told me to do, it’s about how I love you and I can’t lose you.” And Frodo’s reaction shows he registers this.

I cry when I think about how Sam keeps on choosing that promise over everything else, even his own safety, to the point where he directly goes against Frodo’s wishes for his safety and follows him to Mordor, not because anyone twisted his arm and forced him to do it, not because Frodo asked anything of him, but because he loves Frodo so much that he commits to his promise.

I cry when I think about how Sam’s promise is like a marriage vow, “in sickness and in health,” “for richer for poorer.” Even as Frodo grows sicker and sicker, even as Sam almost dies dozens of times, he honors this vow and proves what love really means.

I cry when I think about how Sam’s promise is the opposite of the forced obligation that many ignorant readers/viewers have claimed it to be (yes, i’ve read that claim, that he never wanted to go, that the whole time he secretly resented Frodo for taking him away from Rosie, what book did those numbskulls read???)…how Sam, in every version of the story, takes a mere encouragement made in total ignorance of what they will really be up against, and develops it into a personal vow based on pure love which ultimately gives him the strength to defeat Shelob one-on-one, storm an Orc-infested tower all by himself, and climb a giant mountain with an adult hobbit on his shoulders.

I cry when I think about how Sam’s promise is so much like a marriage vow that he cannot leave Frodo when Rosie reveals she wants to marry him, that he doesn’t marry Rosie until she agrees that they can still live with Frodo.

I cry when I think about how Sam’s promise lasts all his life into feeble old age, across decades of time and millions of miles, even when he knows Frodo is in good healing hands and his emotional support is no longer reliant on him alone … he still ultimately forsakes all that he has ever known to find Frodo in the West, because his promise, his love, is everlasting.

I cry when I think about how Sam proves that love is a choice, that the vows you make for a person are vows for yourself as much as that person. Why would you make such a vow? All that anyone else can do is encourage you to act on what you already feel. The choice is only yours. And you choose to make that vow when you truly love someone, as Sam does.

I cry when I think about how Sam proves that love is a promise.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #samfro #frodo x sam #sam x frodo #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #rosie cotton #lotr movies

[halfelven]

Frodo still dreams of falling. When he stood and stared down into the fires (that were rock, that were molten, that were moving beneath them) he thought of falling—he couldn’t cast the ring in, but maybe he could fall.

Not even jump.

But he was dizzy with pain, with nerves, from the heat. Maybe he could fall. He was barely thinking then, and his mind was clouded and black, and he wasn’t himself, and he wasn’t real, or even really there. It was just clouds and fire and the soft voice of Sauron now less a command and more a plea, ‘Don’t, don’t, don’t. You couldn’t live without me.’

He couldn’t. But he could fall.

Maybe. If he leaned to much to the side. If he leaned too much forward. It was hundreds of feet down, it seemed. A sheer drop. It was like nightmares that he had never had before but that he knew, even then, he would never be free of if he would live. He thought he wanted to live and that’s why he wasn’t veering forward, falling quickly, tumbling down into a pain that would be greater than anything, but only momentary. Maybe if he fell he could rest after it. He wanted so much to rest. The ring burnt him and he loved it, but he was tired. His mind was as bright as the fire beneath him, which is why he couldn’t think.

Sauron was a gentle whisper, nothing but a whisper, saying, ‘You cannot leave me.’

And he was standing in a place he could never have imagined with the air too hot to breathe, feeling it burn his nose and mouth, burn down his throat, burn his lungs. He wouldn’t ever breathe right again. He couldn’t now. He was fading and falling, but there was still ground beneath him, so he hadn’t fallen enough, fallen right.

He choked. The Ring was a weight that could not pull him down. Eternity was Sauron saying, ‘Please.’

He tried to breathe. The ring was a voice of its own, like it had become. A voice and a person. Something he loved more than life itself. He had to. If he didn’t love it, he would have thrown it aside, and let it fall, itself alone. But he was still standing.

The ring was burning. The fire was bright. The pain was falling, becoming something else. Becoming more than him. He was bright, still on fire, waiting for the end of the world, waiting for the end of that moment.

The ring was a love that could consume him. The ring was a burden he must cast aside. The ring was the only one who knew him. It was a lord and a love and above all—inescapable.

He would be lost forever in that moment.

He still is. He still dreams of falling. It would have been easier, if he could have. To burn once and die. Not to live, haunted by visions, held by fire, trapped in that moment, dreaming of then—a moment that destroyed all time.

He’d ask if it gets easier, if anyone knew. He thinks his lungs are still burnt. He is skin with only ash inside. The clock ticks over the mantle. He sits still by the fire.

#tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #jr2t #frodo #sauron #angst #my writing #lotr fanfic #writing #i’m fine

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Fourteen

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: Some battle violence (nothing graphic, I promise)

Rating: T 

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Kaia sank onto the edge of a broken stone at the top of the parapet and sighed softly as Madril asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, looking up at him. It was a lie, of course. The moment she heard Boromir’s name, and then his voice, her stomach had been a mess of jumbles and knots. And when she met his gaze… her heart beat so fast and with such force, she thought for a moment she might faint. 

But then those gray-blue eyes narrowed and his gaze pierced right through her. The anger practically radiated from him and while she couldn't fault him at all, it did surprise her that he was so angry. She’d always thought that men easily separated emotion from the physical and that he would be just as glad to not have her clinging to him, begging for a future with him. But then again, her experience with men was on the limited side, and none she’d ever known were anything like Boromir. Not by half.

She hadn’t expected him to speak to her. In fact, she thought he might just shove past her and go on his way. And now that he had spoken, she almost wished he hadn’t. Almost.

She stared toward the doorway where she’d last seen him. Part of her hoped the halflings had too far a head start on him, that he’d give up and return to Osgiliath. But that was only simply so she didn't worry about him, about something terrible befalling him. 

“If you don’t mind my saying, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Well, not exactly, anyway.”

“Did you know the halflings?”

“Know them? No. Know of them? Yes.” She turned completely toward him. “I know Boromir knows them, but not how or why. I’ve heard him speak of them, but he never went into detail.”

“Hmm…” Madril’s eyes narrowed slightly and she waited for him to ask her about how she knew Boromir. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he gazed out over the growing darkness, which seemed far heavier and much darker than normal. Something in the distance must’ve caught his attention, for he said, “Excuse me,” and hurried off in the opposite direction. 

Curious, she followed, coming up as Faramir joined him on the far parapet and Madril said, “It’s been very quiet across the river. The orcs are lying low. The garrison may have moved out. We’ve send scouts to Cair Andros and if the orcs attack from the north, we will have some warning.”

Orcs. Although she knew the chance of facing them grew far greater with each passing day, it didn't mean the thought did not scare her at all. She watched as Faramir’s men moved about, seemingly at random purpose, but she knew well enough they were moving into position for either watch or battle, and she strongly suspected the latter.

She was not wrong.

The first arrow took her by surprise. It swished over her head, striking one of Faramir’s men dead center in the chest, piercing his armor as if it was no thicker than a sheet of paper. He fell, clanking down the stone steps as he rolled out of sight.

“They’re not coming from the north,” Faramir said, “To the river! Quick! Go!”

Despite the roiling in her belly, despite the icy terror rushing through her veins, she followed the others to Osgiliath’s lowest level, where the river had begun to swamp it, greenish-black water swirling about the crumbling stone. Black dots danced before her eyes as she flattened herself into an alcove, just as she had done earlier, when the Nazgûl swooped overhead. 

A boat silently eased up to the stone and dropped its ramp, and orcs poured from it, splashing and sloshing their way through the fortress. Madril and Faramir were the first to leap out and attack and her hands wrapped tightly about her sword’s grips, Kaia did the same. 

Bedlam ensued. Steel met steel with deafening clangs. Men and orcs screamed as one ran the other through. Heads were removed from bodies. Arms and legs fell into the water with sickening splashes. Torsos were sliced in half, some cleanly, some not so cleanly. Orc blood, thick and black, mingled with the scarlet blood of Men as it spattered against the stone and spilled across the blocks beneath their feet. 

Kaia could barely see for the gray and gloom of night, but that didn't stop her. Her head pounded from the sounds, from the force of her blood pumping through her temples. Her arms ached from the relentless swinging, from the force of her steel striking unyielding targets, from the force required to block the blows that came her way. She moved through the gloom, ignoring the rancid black ooze of orc blood spattering across her face, pressing forward. She lost sight of Madril. Lost sight of Faramir. Could see nothing but the relentless push of orcs as more and more spilled into Osgiliath.

A hot sting swept across her right shoulder. She ignored it as she swung back with everything she had to sever the arm holding the blade that cut her. But then another blade caught her to knock her sword from her grasp and she found herself eye to eye with the creature responsible.

“Well, look here at what I found,” he sneered, lifting his blade to poke it into the hollow of her throat. 

Tears of pain stung her eyes, but she fought to keep them from falling. Her sword lay just along her left foot, but if she moved, the blade at her throat would pierce her before she got halfway to her own steel. 

Metal sliced the air and the orc’s head went flying off to his left, while his body crumpled in a heap where he’d stood. Sticky black ooze clouded her right eye, but Faramir’s voice was clear as he shouted, “Fall back! Fall back to Minas Tirith!” as he continued past her.

She snatched up her blade, dragging the back of her right hand across her face to clear her vision. A hint of panic stung her as she had no idea where Minas Tirith was in relation to where she was, but she broke into a run behind the others as they all scattered. 

Splashing through the flooded portion of Osgiliath, Kaia lost her footing more than once, but managed to remain upright as she followed the others. Her heart hammered her ribs with enough force that black dots danced before her eyes as she fought to ignore it, to ignore the burn in her lungs and in her legs. Running was never her strong suit, but her life had never depended on it nearly as much, aside from that day in the clearing, when she dragged a nearly-lifeless Boromir back from certain death. 

Dawn was breaking as they spilled forth from Osgiliath and Kaia was fairly certain her feet touched no ground as she ran across the fields. Her heart threatened to explode, her lungs threatened to seize up, and at the shriek of the Nazgûl screeched louder, she knew she stood no chance. Her legs surrendered first. She stumbled. Reeled forward. Went skidding across the ground, unable to hold back her cry of pain as her wounded shoulder took most of the brunt of her fall. Her sleeve was torn almost completely off and blood soaked the fabric as it gushed from the ugly slash. Her hand felt cold, her sword jarred free from her grasp once more, only now she couldn’t make her hand obey her and grip it once more. 

A shadow fell over her. Thunder of hoofbeats roared above her. She closed her eyes and braced herself to be trampled beneath those hooves.

The sounds of battle reached Boromir’s ears as he made his way back toward Osgiliath and as he emerged from the tunnel, and saw the empty boats, his gut twisted sharply and he slid his sword free. He didn't stop pushing forward, and unlike the last time he faced an army of orcs, he didn’t feel the sting of the arrow. All Boromir could think about was getting to Kaia. Faramir’s men were as good as his own had been, but they were still horribly outnumbered, and he knew she was there somewhere.

Then Faramir bellowed for them to fall back and without hesitation, Boromir made for the stables and he didn't care whose horse he took as he swung up onto the first saddled mount he saw. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and took off out into the coming dawn. 

The shriek of the Nazgûl made his hair stand on end and he urged his horse to run faster as the fell beast swooped down toward the Pelennor Fields, where ahead of him, the rest of Faramir’s men thundered toward Minas Tirith. He slowed down some as he caught sight of an inert figure lying face down not fifty yards ahead of him and his stomach clenched as he tugged hard on the reins and his mount slowed, then stopped. 

“Kaia!” He leaped down from the animal’a back and dropped to his knees at her side. She didn't stir. 

He wasted no time in gathering her in his arms to spirit her back to his horse, where he managed to maneuver her up into the saddle in front of him, an arm firmly about her waist as he dug his heels into the horse’s sides and they moved once more.

Dirt spattered her face, clumps of it mingled with blood dotted her glorious hair, now matted with sweat and earth. The sleeve of her tunic was shredded, her right shoulder smeared with blood, both fresh and dried, and an ugly wound along her upper arm continued to bleed freely.  

Without thinking, he cradled her closer, muttering, “We’re almost there, just a bit further. Just… hold on, love…”

A brilliant white light split the Nazgûl in two and sent them all in opposite directions, leaving a clear path all the way back to Minas Tirith and as they crossed into the White City and Boromir saw Gandalf, he couldn't believe his eyes at all. 

Kaia stirred then, lifting her head as she let out a low groan. “Who—where—how?”

“Shhh…” He tightened his arm about her. “You’re safe now.”

“Boromir?” She craned her neck to peer up at him with confused eyes. “But… how…?”

“We will talk later,” he told her softly, guiding his mount along the cobbled main road that wound up along the city’s tiers. The Houses of Healing were on the sixth level and that was where he was going. Everything else would wait for now. Faramir. His father. It would all wait.

Kaia let out a cry as he slipped from the horse and jostled her when he moved to ease her down as well. “Forgive me,” he murmured, cradling her against his chest. 

He carried her up the stairs into the Houses of Healing, where Ioreth, Minas Tirith’s healer, looked up. “Boromir? You—you’re here?”

“I am but please, any and all questions will wait for now.” 

“Yes, of course,” she gestured for him to bring Kaia over to the bed nearest the bank of windows. “Is this your squire?”

“Squire? No. She is no boy but a woman, Ioreth. Kaia.” He bent to set Kaia down on the bed. “And I owe my life to her.”

Ioreth offered up a quirked eyebrow, but all she said was, “I will tend to her. You should go and see Denethor. He’s been… not himself, these last few weeks.”

He sighed softly, drawing the back of his wrist across his forehead. “Just… just take care of her. I have to go find Faramir. When she wakes, tell her…”

“Tell her what, my lord?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. Just take care of her.”

“My lord?”

He let out a low sigh. “Just tell her I will be back.”

With that, he turned and strode back toward the doorway and without a look back, left the House of Healing. As he stepped out into the golden sunlight, he saw Faramir and with great haste, hurried to catch up with him. 

“Faramir!”

Faramir stopped and, shading his eyes with one hand, looked up. “Where did you come from?”

“Never mind that,” Boromir waved off the question as he joined them. “I thought I’d go with you to see Father, lest he not believe I actually walk amongst the living.”

“Where is Kaia? Have you seen her?”

He nodded. “She is in with Ioreth now. I imagine the infirmary will be overrun with wounded shortly.”

“She was wounded? What happened?”

“I know not. I happened upon her just over the border of the Pelennor Fields.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No. Now, come. We’ve no time to waste on idea chatter.”

He started toward the Citadel, where he knew he’d find his father, in his chair at the foot of the black staircase that led up to the throne of the king of Gondor.

But, Faramir was nothing if not determined and as he fell into step alongside him, he said, “What happened to her?”

“I told you, I haven’t a clue. I found her lying in the field and brought her in.”

“So, wait… you simply dumped her in the infirmary?”

“Mind your own matters, little brother,” Boromir growled without looking at him. 

“Have you lost your mind?”

“This is not the time.”

“Not the—“ Faramir fell into step alongside him. “Are you a complete idiot? What could she have possibly done to make you this angry?”

Boromir was in no mood to discuss his love life or hear Faramir’s take on it, either. His stomach clenched with a worry he tried to pretend was nothing more than exhaustion as they continued on their way. “Again, mind your own matters.” 

“Mind my own—oh, fine. If that’s what you wish, far be it from me to be your blasted conscience.”

“Good. I need no conscience. I assure you, I’ve done nothing to her that shames me.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

Now, Boromir glared at him, but Faramir simply rolled his eyes in response and hurried up the stone staircase ahead of him. 

At the top of the stone steps, they reached the courtyard and in the center of it, the Tree of Gondor, which would have been white, had it not been dead. Boromir paid neither it nor his brother and mind as he bobbed his head at the pages who silently tugged open the doors leading into Tower Hall. 

Denethor II, the Steward of Gondor, sat in his chair, scowling as always, but when he looked up, his eyes lit up as he said, “My son! I worried a terrible fate had befallen you.”

“No.” Boromir shook his head as he drew to a halt before his father. “As you can see, I am alive and in one piece.”

“But we thought…” Denethor cleared his throat and turned away for a moment. When he turned back, he brandished the halved remains of the Great Horn. “This was brought back by one of your brother’s men and I was certain it meant you were lost.”

Boromir stared at the ivory and gold pieces and slowly shook his head. “No. I was wounded, but as you can see, I still walk amongst the living.”

“It is a gift, that you are here and my greatest fear did not come to pass.” He said this with a rare smile and a warm gaze adding, “And have you—”

He paused, his cold gray eyes sliding toward Faramir, who drew up alongside Boromir. “Have you done as you were tasked?”

Boromir swallowed hard. He knew he would disappoint his father, knew Denethor would be furious and would most likely disown him when he admitted that he’d failed. But, he squared his shoulders and shook his head. “I’ve not, no.”

Denethor’s cold eyes grew colder still, looking like two slivers of iced slate. His jaw tightened. “Is that so?”

“It is. I tried. But—”

“You tried? What does that mean—you tried. You failed!”

“I did, yes. And as a result—”

“As a result, you left the Ring in the possession of a halfwit who will keep it for himself!”

“No,” Faramir broke in softly. “I do not think he will, Father.”

“Oh, you do not think he will, do you?” Those iced slate eyes slid toward Faramir. “Then you are as halfwitted as they are, for of course he will. He’d be a fool not to.”

“Father,” Boromir interrupted sharply, “I did try to take it and that halfwit outsmarted me, and when he did, I realized I was wrong. So very wrong, indeed. I was wrong to try tot take it for myself, for Gondor, and not to allow the one chosen to bear it to destroy it. And if that makes me a halfwit, then so be it. I am at peace with the fact that I failed.”

Denethor’s gaze grew colder still, colder than Boromir had ever seen. “You disappoint me, as I thought you the braver of my sons. And yet you defy me. Defy my instructions. You have proved yourself as useless and unworthy as your brother!”

“So be it.” Boromir shrugged as if his father’s words meant nothing to him, ignoring the sharp sting those words sent through him. Denethor’s disappointment was not something to which he was accustomed. Normally, Faramir bore the brunt of their father’s wrath, while Boromir tried to shield him at all turns. 

But not this time. 

“Father, to take the Ring, to bring it here, would bring about our ruin faster. This is how it must be done. And this is how it will be done.”

“Take yourself from my sight,” Denethor growled. “And take your brother with you. My sons, my heirs, and you are nothing but disappointments, both of you.”

“You will return to Osgiliath. Take it back. Then, and only then, will I even consider you my sons again.”

“Father, Osgiliath was overrun—” Faramir began.

“Take it back.” Denethor looked from him to Boromir and back. “And do not return until you do, either of you.”

Boromir stared at his father for a long moment, as if he’d never seen him before. Although he knew firsthand the pull the Ring had and would have over any Man who thought to try to possess it, he knew Denethor had no such awareness. All he cared about was what Boromir himself had cared about when he’d attacked Frodo in the clearing at Amon Hen. Power. Denethor wanted to secure his place, wanted to make certain his position never wavered, that he never had reason to fear the rightful king coming to usurp him.

He should only know that Gondor’s true leader was somewhere between Minas Tirith and Mordor, and if Aragorn should survive and return to claim his rightful place, Boromir would not hesitate to bow and acknowledge him as the King of Gondor.

“Did you hear me?”

“I did and if that’s what you wish, ” Boromir shrugged, “so be it.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“Aye, I understand.” With that, Boromir turned and stalked from Tower Hall without looking back. 

Outside, Faramir caught up to him. “You should go and see her before you go.”

“I’ll not tell you again, little brother,” Boromir growled without looking at him, “stay out of my affairs.”

“And if you do not return?”

He paused then, at the low wall at the far end of the courtyard, where he could see Osgiliath and the River Anduin. Gazing out at the sparkling water, he drew in a deep breath and let it out as a low, steady exhale. “Why does it trouble you so much?”

“Because, I think you should talk to her, that’s why.”

Overhead, clouds thickened, iron gray and heavy with the promise of rain. In the distance, the faint orange glow of the ever-watchful Eye of Sauron gleamed. A heaviness settled over Minas Tirith, one that he’d felt long before he was tasked with going to Rivendell, but had grown heavier since then. If Osgiliath remained in orc hands, it was but a matter of time before they made the march to Minas Tirith. 

“If I need advice on how to handle my life, little brother, I promise you, you will be the first one I come to. Until then, mind your own matters.”

He turned to stride toward the stairs, to return to his flat and prepare to depart Minas Tirith once more, only to have Faramir halt his stride as he called, “What did she do that was so terrible?”

Without slowing, Boromir called back, “It is none of your—”

“Concern, I know. But I saw how she looked at you and how you looked at her. Go and talk to her and tell her before it’s too late.”

“Tell her?” Now he stopped. Stopped and turned toward Faramir. “Tell her what?”

Faramir offered up a long look. “I think you know.”

“Do you? Because I assure you, I don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Faramir snorted and replied, “Tell her you love her, you dolt. I think you’ll be surprised by her answer.”

“I don't love her,” he shook his head, “nor do I care what her answer is.”

“I saw how she looked at you.”

“And how was that? Surprised, little brother. She was surprised to see me.”

“Yes, that I saw. But, there was something else.”

“Your mind toyed with you and you saw not what you thought you did. And I’ll discuss it no more. Round up whoever you can and let them know to be ready. We leave first thing in the morning.”

“Boromir,” Faramir caught him by the arm, “go and talk to her before you leave. Just… trust me, won’t you? You will regret it if you don’t. Don't make a mistake that will haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Faramir didn't wait for his response, but hurried off to prepare for their departure, but Boromir stood there for a long while, staring out at the river, at Osgiliath. Part of him wanted to just return to his quarters and prepare to leave Minas Tirith once more, possibly for good.

But, the other part of him… 

Seeing Kaia lying so still on the battlefield had knocked the wind from him and all he could think about was getting to her. And once he had her, it took every bit of will he possessed to leave her in Ioreth’s care, even though he knew full well Kaia couldn't have been in safer hands. 

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the low wall, hands clasped between his thighs, and he stared at the dead tree in the center of the courtyard. Faramir was right. He had to talk to Kaia before he left, if nothing else to clear the air between them. He wanted to know why she’d left the way she had. 

He sat there a while longer, but then, mindful of how much time had passed, slowly got to his feet and made his way down to the sixth level once more. It most likely would change nothing, but he did want to see Kaia before he left. 

Butterflies went wild as he neared the infirmary, making him feel very much as if he was but a boy about to see the girl he’d been admiring from afar for what seemed like forever. As he reached the doorway leading into the area where he’d left Kaia, he paused on the threshold. All of the anger that had simmered within him since he’d awoken to find her gone had vanished now. His pride had been bruised, but when he thought about it, he couldn't exactly fault her for leaving. After all, he’d made no bones about the fact that he fully intended to leave her. She just beat him to the punch. 

At the same time, though, she made him realize something. He did not like being away from her. In the short time he’d been under her care, in the time that he’d come to know her, he found being apart from her was far worse than even being wounded by the Uruk-hai had been. It wasn't anything he’d ever felt before and if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't exactly certain what to do with those feelings. Especially knowing she wasn't one to tie herself down. And neither was he.

Or at least, he’d thought he wasn’t. 

“My lord?”

Ioreth’s soft voice broke through his reverie and he started, looking down into her lined faced. Her dark eyes bored through him, just as they had since he was a boy and she always seemed to know when he’d been up to no good. Shaking his head, he managed a slight smile. “I beg your pardon. Doing a bit of woolgathering, I suppose.”

Woolgathering.

Over Ioreth’s shoulder, he could see Kaia’s bed, could see Kaia, and she looked so terribly still that his gut kinked. “Ioreth, the girl I brought in earlier? How did she fare?”

“Miss Kaia? She fares well, actually.” Ioreth twisted to peer over her shoulder, then looked back at him. “I managed to halt the bleeding and I don't think she will lose the arm, although it will be some time before she has full use of it.”

Relief surged through him. “Good.” 

“She’s asked for you.”

His spine stiffened at that. “She did?”

“Yes.”

His mouth went dry as he peered over her shoulder once more. “Did she say anything else?”

“Go and talk to her.”

“Is she awake?”

“No, but she should be soon.” 

With that, Ioreth stepped out of his way, taking away his last barrier to reach Kaia. Swallowing hard against the hammering of his heart and the dots dancing before his eyes, Boromir moved around her, crossing over to Kaia’s bed. As he reached it, one of Ioreth’s helpers brought over a chair for him. 

“Thank you,” he said without thinking, not taking his eyes off Kaia. He’d never seen her so still, her dark red hair spilled beneath her, shining in the afternoon sun. Her fair skin looked paler still, even against the stark white bandage wrapped about her upper arm. 

“Might I fetch you anything, my lord?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m fine. But, I’d rather not be disturbed, unless my brother comes looking for me.”

“Of course.”

Boromir turned back to Kaia and he gently slipped his hand beneath hers, her palm warm against his. Her fingers tightened briefly about his. He smiled, bringing her hand to his lips to gently brush the backs of her fingers with a light kiss. 

Her lashes were thick black crescents against her pale cheeks, and while he hoped her eyelids would flutter and then open, they stay shut. Her chest rose and fell softly with each breath, and he sank into the chair, her hand still in his. He would remain by her side until she woke, and he was not leaving until he’d had a chance to speak with her.

Until he made things right with her. 

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Sean Bean #Everybody Lives #Sons of Gondor

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: Many Partings

Oh, oh oh oh, the chapter title is a mirror to the Fellowship chapter “Many Meetings”, don’t touch me I am cri

Aragorn: “Hello! Don’t ask; I know you want to go back home.” Frodo: “I do. I want to see Bilbo even more. I was sad to see he didn’t come with the others.” Aragorn: “Well, he’s getting really old, dude.” Frodo: “EXACTLY WHY I NEED TO GO.”

In which Arwen gives Frodo her golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s choco—I mean Valinor

Oh and he also gets another necklace

Eeeeyyy resolution to Eomer and Gimli’s little spat!

Eomer and Gimli are the politest, most gentlemanly simps ever

I love how much effort the book puts into acknowledging how honored Theoden was. Eowyn’s fear was that her family would be disgraced and forgotten, with no more dignity than a peasant living in a dirty thatched hut, but all this pomp and circumstance proves that the line of Eorl is still honored and respected and loved.

GHAN-BURI-GHAN

THE CHAD AND HIS HOMIES RETURN

HELLO I LOVE YOU WE WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE GOODBYE

I got so emotional about the drums, bruh, that’s literally beautiful ;~;

MERRRYYYYY *sobs*

I LOVE YOU MY SON. AAAAHHHH TToTT

“HAIL, EOMER, KING OF THE MARK!”

They’re in good hands.

Trothplighted! Now THAT’S a word!!

Aww, Eowyn and Faramir got engaged in Rohan! That’s cute :-3

Well there go all my goofy headcanons about Eomer being a cranky, overprotective brother and giving Faramir the side-eye. Even he just likes him automatically. Bummer. And here I was hoping for some funny family drama!

Eowyn: “Whaddya think of that, former crush? :-3” Aragorn: “Couldn’t be prouder :-D”

Okay yeah so when I read the last chapter, I wrote this thing at 3 AM like “kinda not digging how the book barely mentions what angst Elrond would be feeling over never seeing his daughter again ever; even the movies take the time to explore that (even if they paint Elrond as the bad guy who gets in the way of love)”, but at least here Tolkien gives us a mention of it. That’s nice. Please don’t just ignore Elrond’s feelings, the man’s been through enough.

OOH! A gift?? A gift for Merry??? I’m very interested—!!

GASP IT’S THE HORN

THAT’S GONNA BE VERY IMPORTANT ISN’T IT

PRETTY SURE I’M REMEMBERING SOMETHING ABOUT THE SCOURING OF THE SHIRE AND THE HORN BEING VERY IMPORTANT

Aaaand they all hug! Awww!! TTuTT I’m gonna have so much fun drawing this LOL

“And they drank the stirrup-cup”. Thanks to this line and Google, I have now learned a thing about the traditions of the Scottish Highlanders.

Legolas, upon visiting a cave: “Welp, you beat me. I like caves now.”

TREEBEEEEEARD!!

QUICKBEEEEEEEAAAMM!!!

MY FAVORITE TREES I LOVE YOU GUYS

In which Treebeard cusses out orcs in Entish

In which Treebeard admits that he bored Saruman nearly to death!!

Oof, that’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, King Tree ol’ pal. But I forgive you. I won’t call mercy a weakness.

I love the mental image of Quickbeam bowing “like a tree bending in the wind”. They are not VERY bendable, but they can be a little bit!

There are no Entings :-C

Gimli, begrudgingly: “FINE I’ll visit the forest, I guess.”

Gimli calling them “my hobbits” noooo 😭😖😭😫🤧😭😭

STOP SAYING “I fear we shall never meet again”, IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Bye, Legolas; bye, Gimli! Love ya both, you hilarious nerds.

Merry and Pippin get one last drink with Treebeard! Yaaaay!! 8-D

Bye, King Tree, I love you!

Aragorn threatening to spy on Pippin and call him back in service to Minas Tirith is hilarious and very on-brand

Ooh, red sunset and a green flame…wow.

That’s so evocative and I can’t find the words to express why.

Bye, Aragorn. Love ya, long man.

Well, well, well! Bo and lehold, look what the cat drug in! It’s Saruman!

Me when Saruman chews out Gandalf: LOL

Me when Saruman breathes wrongly in Galadriel’s direction: oh he’s dead 8-.

Y’know, it’s funny. Grima’s fear of leaving Saruman is a lot like the fear people often have of leaving abusive relationships. However, Grima has everything he’d need to actually make a departure, things that other people stuck in abusive relationships might not—a support system, financial freedom, another place to stay, and people who would help and protect him—and yet he chooses none of it, and goes back to his oppressor. Fascinating.

OOP. OKAY SARUMAN TALKING TO THE HOBBITS NOW, EVERYBODY SHUT UP.

Saruman: “You cruel little urchins. Come to mock an old beggar, have you? I’ll bet you wouldn’t even give me a bit of pipe weed.” Frodo: “I would if I had any.”

That is the KINDEST 1000 IQ gigachad own I have EVER seen. Frodo like, “I have gone through untold hell, but you can’t make me cruel to you, no matter how much you try.” LIFE GOAL: BE LIKE FRODO

And Merry like, “Here, I’ve got some pipeweed, you can have it back.” My favorite hobbits, everyone. The chads. The absolute legends.

*mutters to self* “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; and in doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head…”

Merry’s sarcastic “thank you!” to the curse on the Southfarthing tho X’-D

Merry: “Can I have my bag back?” Saruman, a petty wet sock: “NO”

I wonder if the Shire has a thing where you can like. Sue for damages to person or property. ‘Cause that seems to be what Pippin is implying here by “what about our claim for kidnapping us”. In which case, Pippin half-joking about suing a wizard is VERY HECKING FUNNY

Also would like to point out that Sam didn’t say a word until Saruman was gone. I can only imagine he was just sitting in the background glaring at him the whole time.

Aaaand they let him go. Hahaha. Doom.

In which Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond speak in telepathy, wooo~

In which Sam still wants to see Elves, even after he’s been riding with Elves this whole time

BILBOOOOOOOOOO

BILBO MY LOVE I’VE MISSED YOU

Just the fact that the hobbits run to find him without taking off their coats or eating or washing up. That’s like charging into a house to see somebody, with your coat and shoes still on, leaving dirt on the carpet but neither of you care. It’s so emotional and full of love and I just aaaaahhhh— 🥹😭🥹🤧😭

Bilbo will never not be competitive, LOL! “I wanna be older than the Old Took!”

“How splendid! How wonderful! But where were we?” Bilbo I love you

“Yeah I was invited to Aragorn’s wedding and all that, but I was busy and I didn’t want to pack.” BILBO I LOVE YOU

“Didn’t go to the wedding because I couldn’t be arsed” is such a HUGE MOOD

Ohh, the melancholy of watching the weather changing and knowing you’ll soon have to leave

Also Frodo and Sam same brain

“Except the Sea.” Stopppp I’m gonna cry—

“To their delight, Gandalf said: ‘I think I shall come too. At least as far as Bree. I want to see Butterbur.’” AND ROAST HIS TOES

Aww Bilbo getting old and forgetful. It hurts, but it’s so sweet ;u;

“May come in useful, if you think of getting married, Sam.” 8-D 8-D 8-D hahaha yesss, tease the boy

Bilbo: “I don’t have gifts for you.” Pippin: “Okay, but consider: what if we sass you?” Bilbo: “Haha, you make me so proud! I lied. Have some pipes.”

Bilbo: “B-T-dubs, where’s my ring?” Frodo: “Er, I kind of threw it into a volcano, Bilbo.” Bilbo: “Oh, yes, that’s right! That’s what the whole thing was about, isn’t it? Silly me.”

Bilbo being just as interested in oliphaunts as Sam ;u;

REPRISE OF “THE ROAD GOES EVER ON!” SHUT UP I CRI

Just the way they let him nap for a while before talking again. It’s such natural comedy, and also very sweet and warm and full of love and just aaaaahhhh

Also Frodo agreeing to finish Bilbo’s work. There’s something so emotional about that. Makes me think of Christopher and all the work he did to preserve his father’s notes…I wonder if he ever made the connection himself. I wonder if he saw himself as his dad’s Frodo.

And we end with some foooooreshadowing….

Friendly reminder to everyone who complains that the RotK movie has like five different endings and that’s too many: The book is worse. The book is so, SO much worse. 🤣

#aragorn #frodo baggins #arwen #eomer #gimli #eowyn #theoden #ghan-buri-ghan #the woses #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #faramir #elrond #legolas #treebeard #quickbeam #saruman #peregrin took #pippin #galadriel #celeborn #grima wormtongue #samwise gamgee #bilbo baggins #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts

[seagull-energy]

I feel like doing some liveblogging for today's entry because I love it a lot and I have Things To Say! Under a cut because this got longgggg

"They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm live at once in both worlds [...]"

I'm sorry, those who have lived in Valinor do what now???? I don't remember this ever being mentioned anywhere else

'Frodo was now safe in the Last Homely House east of the Sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all'. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness.'

This makes me tear up and I'm not sure why.

This is one of my favorite chapters in the whole trilogy. I just love how warm it feels. It's like curling up with a cozy blanket and a warm drink on a winter evening, but it's also like sitting in the sun on a bright summer day with a cool breeze in your hair at the same time.

'In the middle of the table, against the woven cloths upon the wall, there was a chair under a canopy, and there sat a lady fair to look upon, and so like was she in form of womanhood to Elrond that Frodo guessed that she was one of his close kindred. Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years bring. Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.'

MY QUEEN MY BELOVED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS HERE!!!! <333333 *ahem* anyway, moving on

The mention of Beorn's son and Bard's grandson being leaders of their respective folk really puts into perspective how the lifespans of Men compare to Dwarves and even Hobbits.

''I will come and see [the Lonely Mountain], if ever I can,' said Frodo.'

Hey. Want to feel sad with me? I don't think he ever gets to do this.

'This is the Hall of Fire,' said the wizard. 'Here you will hear many songs and tales – if you can keep awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light.'

Actually obsessed with the Vibes of the Hall of Fire. It's one of the places in Middle Earth I would most like to visit. Also if it ever shows up in an adaptation I may perish of happiness.

'Why, sitting and thinking. I do a lot of that nowadays, and this is the best place to do it in, as a rule. Wake up, indeed!' he said, cocking an eye at Elrond. There was a bright twinkle in it and no sign of sleepiness that Frodo could see. 'Wake up! I was not asleep, Master Elrond. If you want to know, you have all come out from your feast too soon, and you have disturbed me – in the middle of making up a song. I was stuck over a line or two, and was thinking about them; but now I don't suppose I shall ever get them right. There will be such a deal of singing that the ideas will be driven clean out of my head. I shall have to get my friend the Dúnadan to help me. Where is he?' Elrond laughed. 'He shall be found,' he said. 'Then you two shall go into a corner and finish your task, and we will hear it and judge it before we end our merrymaking.'

Bilbo and Elrond's friendship means a great deal to me and I feel it is tragically underrated.

'Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story.'

Oh no here come the tears again.

'Strider!' said Frodo. 'You seem to have a lot of names.'

Oh Frodo you haven't heard the half of it yet... Also this has been pointed out many times before but I love that Aragorn remains Strider to the hobbits long after they learn his true name. It's really cute <333

He turned to Strider. 'Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady Arwen was there.' Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. 'I know,' he said. 'But often I must put mirth aside. Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once.'

*sigh* can't believe the Plot is making Aragorn miss out on quality time with his wifey :(( Also, twins mention!!! I love the twins dearly (mostly because of One Specific Fanfiction)

Near him sat the Lady Arwen. To his surprise Frodo saw that Aragorn stood beside her; his dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail, and a star shone on his breast. They spoke together, and then suddenly it seemed to Frodo that Arwen turned towards him, and the light of her eyes fell on him from afar and pierced his heart.

THEY'RE TOGETHER!!!!! One of these days you will be getting my essay on Arwen's Presence in the narrative and that is a threat. Also she and Frodo have interesting potential as a dynamic. Also also if she looked directly at me my heart would also be very much pierced <333

That's all my thoughts I think! If you stayed until the end, thanks for your time <3

#lotr newsletter #lotr #seagull.thoughts #hope y'all will forgive the large amount of arwen love in these comments #in my defense I get very few opportunities to talk about her #at least where newsletter comments are concerned #I talk about her a lot outside of that #I do very much also love bilbo and sam and gloin and elrond and everyone else in this entry <3333

[aragornsrockcollection]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but Tolkien saying his work wasn’t allegory did not make LotR immune from being a reflection of his experiences, especially with WWI, and strong parallels between the emotional journeys of his characters in war and the emotional experience of Tolkien’s generation didn’t happen by accident, and we don’t have to pretend they did.

Tolkien didn’t even pretend they did. He talked about how the dead marshes were designed in direct reflection of no man’s land after the rain, craters in the earth from shells filled with rain water, nothing living but the potential of fallen soldiers staring back from any of the pools.

It is also true to say that the War of the Ring isn’t an allegory for WWI. A war being an allegory for war is… kind of a weak allegory. What we’re looking at is someone using their own experience with the horrors of war to make the internal worlds of his characters experiencing the horrors of war feel more real. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins isn’t an allegory for obnoxious relations, but I guarantee her character was not birthed pure from Tolkien’s imagination without him having met people like her in the same English countryside environment that inspired the Shire.

People keep bringing up ‘Tolkien doesn’t do allegory therefore your argument is invalid’ on my post about how the experience of the hobbits in LotR speaks to the experience of young men of Tolkien’s generation being shipped off to fight in WWI. Specifically, the fact that a shiny glorified version of war was sold to them previous to leaving.

And I’m also not saying Bilbo is equivalent to the war propaganda in early 1900’s Britain, I love Bilbo, I love his stories of adventure, I do not think he was trying to mislead the youth of the Shire, ok? That’s not the point here.

But isn’t it interesting how much the Hobbits talk about their adventure vs Bilbo’s adventure, and the fact that nothing is like they thought it would be, while Bilbo is also proven to be an unreliable (though still heroic, well meaning and sympathetic) narrator of the events of The Hobbit? This discrepancy between what the hobbits (especially Frodo) thought adventure would mean based on the stories of their elders and what it actually meant? And how that feeling of disillusionment was also an enormous part of WWI, and WWI vet JRR Tolkien’s generation’s experience of war?

Tolkien saying LotR wasn’t allegorical does NOT mean the character’s disillusionment in the book and the people’s disillusionment in history don’t speak to each other.

That’s not allegory, it’s parallels, it’s commentary on how war works in the context of an in universe war, it’s writing what you know.

He absolutely uses allegory all over the place in his books though and he is a dirty lier when he says he isn’t, you can come for me for saying THAT now if you want, but first let me tell you what in LotR isn’t an allegory and why I think Tolkien hated the idea so much:

The Ring is not the Atomic Bomb.

If I were Tolkien, and I wrote this story in which there was a big evil weapon that could destroy the world, much of which was written before 1945 when the Atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but it came out and became popular soon after those events and also during the Cold War and related nuclear arms race, I too would start telling people nothing I had written had any relationship with any events that had happened in real life ever.

To be clear ‘the Ring is the A-bomb’ is a completely tepid take. It only makes sense on the very shallowest level, and if you proceed with reading the books with the assumption that this is the intended take-away, you are going to be extremely confused at what the message about the atomic bomb even is.

The goal of the books is to drop ‘the bomb’ into the lava which ends the highly destructive war by breaking the spirit of the enemy (literally and figuratively, the literal spirit Sauron, and also once the will of Sauron is gone most of his troops, being slaves, flee). So the atomic bomb is good and should have been dropped!

… but the weapon that could destroy the world should never be used by anyone, to use it would make them evil themselves, and just as bad as the enemy, so the Atomic bomb is bad? And should not have been dropped?

Normal people change the course of wars! Wait, with atomic bombs? By not using atomic bombs? The bad guy is the one who made the atomic bomb, but the good guys have the atomic bomb, also there is only one atomic bomb and no chance of another atomic bomb, so that really captures the zeitgeist of the 50’s for sure.

But the world is understandably obsessed with the subject after the way WWII ended, so this comparison was absolutely inescapable in Tolkien’s book about the big scary weapon in the big scary war.

And even if the allegory were clear and consistent, it completely EVISCERATES everything else that Tolkien super cared about expressing with his work with the blunt force of a really really polarizing real life political agenda.

Tolkien cared SO MUCH about language, and the interactions of these fantasy races, and the enormity of history and mythology and our place in it, impermanence, hope in the face of despair, mortality, poetry, geography, what it means to be noble, what it means to heal, friendship, awe, a whole world. All that stuff he is remembered for, and the reason he is credited with creating a genre. He spent his whole life building and peopling this complicated world, and he didn’t want people to look at it and reduce it to a single real life issue that he didn’t even write in on purpose. He wanted his world and everything he put into it to be an escape that felt true, not a thin veil stretched over a hot-button issue.

Which I get, but I think his saying he didn’t intend there to be any allegory was just way simpler than saying “I put in tons of allegory, but you are picking up all the wrong ones.”

Like, come here and tell me Saruman and Isengard aren’t allegorical to the forces of industrialization in our world. Say it to my face. The trees literally take their revenge on them, COME ON.

Abstract concepts are even more liberally used for allegory, or tell me the Ring isn’t an allegory for Power that Corrupts.

Tolkien even says in the letter to his editor Milton Waldman (which was put by Christopher Tolkien as a sort of forward to the Silmarillion) that the type of allegory he dislikes is “intentional allegory.” Which is to say he dislikes obvious thinly veiled allegory which relates one to one with reality.

He kind of ignores the existence of moral allegory, which is indisputably a part of his books, which to remind ya’ll, are about fighting an ultimate evil and finding a part of it will always live inside yourself.

Listen, the man is not alive, I can never have this conversation to confirm, but I know in my soul he was mad at people calling his books allegory cause he invested so much in the literal world building and didn’t want people to sweep that all aside looking for what deep message he was trying to send about life by creating eighteen dialects of elvish.

He just wanted to make a cool language and for his literature friends to not blow past his cool language as window dressing. It’s not just window dressing, it’s a vital part of his world. But there is also a ton of allegory in his story. There is a ton of symbolism in his story, and he didn’t have a problem with that word, even though allegory is basically symbolism applied to narrative. He would have called what I am referring to as allegory “applicability.”

But ultimately it’s a big story, it fits a lot of things, and it is not going against his authorial wishes to read into it, and even if it was, stop limiting your experience of art by authorial intent. I think authorial intent is interesting, and it’s a fun angle to consider, thus why I try to imagine what allegory pissed off Tolkien the most in this post, but it is not everything and shouldn’t limit you.

For example, I don’t care what Tolkien thought, pipeweed is in fact marijuana, cause it makes me chuckle to think of hobbits stoned out of their minds.

TLDR: People who keep telling me to stop reading “allegory” into Tolkien’s work: you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

#tolkien #jirt #lotr #jrr tolkien #allegory #WWI #WWII #the ring #the atom bomb #authorial intent #ignoring authorial intent #but also what is commonly thought of as authorial intent is not as wide reaching as how it is often used imo

[tarvastries]

once again rewatching fellowship and there’s something so awful and powerful about aragorn’s “I would have gone with you to the end. into the very fires of mordor” line because although this is him realizing the ring is too much of a temptation for the fellowship to bear, that’s also kinda how grief works isn’t it?

we lose people. we lose things. we’re given an impossible task — to move on and learn to live over and around this new person- or thing-shaped hole in our lives. an empty space where a mother’s smile used to be, a torn-open wallet that used to be overflowing with security and the future, days that stretch on and on because they’ve never been quite so empty before.

we lose these things and there is no getting around the weight of the loss. you can’t step around it or out of its way. you have to carry it with you, like a stone in your pocket, a bag on your back, a ring on a chain around your neck. you have to bring it wherever you go. many of us bring it to hell and back as we walk the long road not of forgetting the loss, but forgiving the world — and ourselves — for moving on from it.

people try to come with us on the road. they offer thoughts and prayers, and some actually mean it. some walk beside us the whole way, others for as long as they’re able. but we are the only ones who can see it through to the end. even sam couldn’t know exactly what frodo thought or felt during and after the journey to mount doom. he carried the grief, but it was never his to burn through, not really.

and although it doesn’t always mean much, not when we’re blinded by the hurt and loss, knowing that there’s someone willing to walk on coals with you, knowing that someone loved you, that they would try their best and hardest to share the burden that only you can truly carry… sometimes that means more than anything else in the world

we fight so hard in this world to shield ourselves from pain. we put ourselves through the ringer for safety, security, comfort, peace. it’s hard-earned and even harder to keep.

so when aragorn says he would have gone with frodo into the burning heart of despair and hopelessness in their world — a place no one ever leaves or leaves the same — it hits me right in the heart, where I’m still grieving some things. it reminds me that even though I am the only one who can cast my grief into the fire, the only one who can bear the entire burden and feel the full sharpness and weight of it, that there are people who are willing to put all survival instinct and common sense and selfishness aside to walk that broken path with me. to help me stumble to the end. even if they’re not able to, even if they have no choice but to let me go it alone… knowing they would is enough. it’s overwhelming. it reminds me why I’m grieving in the first place — love. it will always and forever be because of love.

there’s more I could say, but this is already too long. anyway, I don’t think I ever truly understood aragorn’s line until today. i’ll never look at it the same again.

#I’m not even in a period of grief right now like what???? #at least not that I’m aware of… #but this just hit me so hard and I’ve been confused about this line for years #but it just hit me today that aragorn is realizing he cannot go with frodo because the ring’s temptation is too great #but he was willing to #he was going to!! #and anywho that’s hurting me #lotr #sav speaks

[ebaeschnbliah]

'There are trolls!' 

Pippin panted. 'Down in a clearing in the woods not far below. We got a sight of them through the tree-trunks. They are very large!'

'We will come and look at them,' said Strider, picking up a stick. Frodo said nothing, but Sam looked scared.

The sun was now high, and it shone down through the half-stripped branches of the trees, and lit the clearing with bright patches of light. They halted suddenly on the edge, and peered through the tree-trunks, holding their breath. There stood the trolls: three large trolls. One was stooping, and the other two stood staring at him.

Strider walked forward unconcernedly. 'Get up, old stone!' he said, and broke his stick upon the stooping troll.

Nothing happened. There was a gasp of astonishment from the hobbits, and then even Frodo laughed. 'Well!' he said. 'We are forgetting our family history! These must be the very three that were caught by Gandalf, quarrelling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit.'

'I had no idea we were anywhere near the place!' said Pippin. He knew the story well. Bilbo and Frodo had told it often; but as a matter of fact he had never more than half believed it. Even now he looked at the stone trolls with suspicion, wondering if some magic might not suddenly bring them to life again.

'You are forgetting not only your family history, but all you ever knew about trolls,' said Strider. 'It is broad daylight with a bright sun, and yet you come back trying to scare me with a tale of live trolls waiting for us in this glade! In any case you might have noticed that one of them has an old bird's nest behind his ear. That would be a most unusual ornament for a live troll!'

They all laughed. Frodo felt his spirits reviving: the reminder of Bilbo's first successful adventure was heartening. The sun, too, was warm and comforting, and the mist before his eyes seemed to be lifting a little. They rested for some time in the glade, and took their mid-day meal right under the shadow of the trolls' large legs.

'Won't somebody give us a bit of a song, while the sun is high?' said Merry, when they had finished. 'We haven't had a song or a tale for days.'

'Not since Weathertop,' said Frodo. The others looked at him. 'Don't worry about me!' he added. 'I feel much better, but I don't think I could sing. Perhaps Sam could dig something out of his memory.'

'Come on, Sam!' said Merry. 'There's more stored in your head than you let on about.'

'I don't know about that,' said Sam. 'But how would this suit? It ain't what I call proper poetry, if you understand me: just a bit of nonsense. But these old images here brought it to my mind.' Standing up, with his hands behind his back, as if he was at school, he began to sing to an old tune.

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone, And munched and mumbled a bare old bone; For many a year he had gnawed it near, For meat was hard to come by. Done by! Gum by! In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone, And meat was hard to come by. Up came Tom with his big boots on. Said he to Troll: "Pray, what is yon? For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim, As should be a-lyin' in graveyard. Caveyard! Paveyard! This many a year has Tim been gone, And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard." "My lad," said Troll, "this bone I stole. But what be bones that lie in a hole? Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead, Afore I found his shinbone. Tinbone! Thinbone! He can spare a share for a poor old troll, For he don't need his shinbone." Said Tom: "I don't see why the likes o' thee Without axin' leave should go makin' free With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin; So hand the old bone over! Rover! Trover! Though dead he be, it belongs to he; So hand the old bone over!" "For a couple o' pins," says Troll, and grins, "I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins. A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet! I'll try my teeth on thee now.* Hee now! See now! I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins; I've a mind to dine on thee now." *[as read by Tolkien on the tape:] Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle. Sunkle! Drunkle! I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins; Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle." But just as he thought his dinner was caught, He found his hands had hold of naught. Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind And gave him the boot to larn him. Warn him! Darn him! A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought, Would be the way to larn him. But harder than stone is the flesh and bone Of a troll that sits in the hills alone. As well set your boot to the mountain's root, For the seat of a troll don't feel it. Peel it! Heal it! Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan, And he knew his toes could feel it. Tom's leg is game, since home he came, And his bootless foot is lasting lame; But Troll don't care, and he's still there With the bone he boned from it's owner. Doner! Boner! Troll's old seat is still the same, And the bone he boned from it's owner!

'Well, that's a warning to us all!' laughed Merry. 'It is as well you used a stick, and not your hand, Strider!'

‘Where did you come by that, Sam?' asked Pippin. 'I've never heard those words before.'

Sam muttered something inaudible. 'It's out of his own head, of course,' said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey. First he was a conspirator, now he's a jester. He'll end up by becoming a wizard - or a warrior!'

'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'

JRR Tolkien sings Sam’s Troll-Song

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Flight to the Ford

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #flight to the ford #jrr tolkien #bilbo's trolls #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #aragorn #bill the pony #movie pics #peter jackson

[rara-writes]

The Raven | LOTR - Chapter 2: The Hobbits

Fic Summary:  When the Nine were corrupted by Sauron, their daughters were cursed - no longer would they have beautiful, short human lives. Instead they would be wraith-hunters, tasked with tracking and destroying the shades of their fathers. As the ages have passed, only three warrior women remain, and the Nazgul have seemingly disappeared. Sage is convinced that their ferocity in battle has deterred their enemies. Liesel thinks peace has finally come to Middle Earth. Only Dinah doubts, and when she follows her suspicions to Minas Morgul, she sets the three huntresses on a path, the path, the one that will determine the fate of all Middle Earth.

Prologue | Chapter 1

A storm is coming.

           Dinah can taste it on the dense night air as she rides through the dark trees. Everything has gone so still, so quiet. She feels as though she’s passed through some invisible veil of waiting, where the world has paused while the clouds fill and fill. How much of this ominous shadow is truly from the freshly fallen night, and how much belongs to the thunderclouds softly rumbling overhead?

           A sharp, distant cry echoes from somewhere in the gloomy maze of moss and dead leaves and great old trees. Her heart races as she thinks of the four little boys.

           What could they possibly have done to make themselves the prey of the Nazgûl?

           There’s only one thing she’s ever known to make the Nine – now the Eight – this persistent, this vicious. Though it has been lost for an age, the whispers she heard that one night while scouting, the whispers her sisters scoffed at, the whispers she hears again and again in the darkness of her dreams…

           No. They couldn’t possibly carry-

           Voices. High and fearful, arguing off the road to her right.

           Dinah guides the stolen black horse of Rohan, gently nudging with her knees. He huffs and shakes his great head. Still, he changes direction, stomping off the muddy road. Not as easy a ride as Firefoot. Wherever that wonderful speckled silver steed is now, Dinah dearly hopes he’s getting the rest he deserves. She hopes he knows his own way home.

           When she comes closer, she hears snatches of their conversation:

           “What is going on, Sam?”

           “That Black Rider was looking for something… or someone. Frodo?”

           “Shush! Here comes one now!”

           She stops abruptly. She never considered how her taking the fallen Nazgûl’s horse would be perceived, especially by scared children. Thoughtless, thoughtless wretch, she scolds herself bitterly. If Liesel were here, she would’ve known better. Liesel is always so conscious of how she makes others feel.

           Dinah swallows hard and calls out into the great black, “I am no Rider. I hunt what hunts you. You have nothing to fear from me.”

           There is no reply. The shades of the trees stare blankly back at Dinah, revealing nothing and no one.

           She takes a deep breath and shakily dismounts. Her head rushes, but she tries to stand tall like her vision isn’t rapidly tunneling. After a moment, the immense midnight of the forest is restored. “I know they hunt someone named Baggins. That must be one of you. I offer my swords in exchange for information.”

           Auburn curls emerge from behind a tangle of roots, then two wide green eyes peer at her in earnest. “What information? We don’t know any information.”

           “Pippin.” Someone grabs the boy by the back of the neck and pulls him down.

           Dinah bites her lip. “I want information about the Riders, why they hunt you. My life’s purpose is to rid Middle Earth of the Nazgûl, and for decades they had laid dormant in the Morgul Vale. I want to know what brought them from their solitude.”

           She can hear them furiously whispering to each other. They need another small, firm push.

           “If you tell me what I want to know, I promise you my full protection until I can return you safely to your parents.”

           Here comes the curly head again. “Our parents?”

           “Yes,” she says. “You’re children. You should be with your parents.”

           Now comes another curly head, one with golden hair and furrowed dark brows. “We’re not children. We’re Hobbits.”

           Dinah blinks. “H… Hobbits?” She tries. Though she’s never heard of them before, she supposes they must be telling the truth – she just left Hobbiton, after all. It makes sense that those little hole-homes in the ground belong to a race of physically smaller beings.

She studies their solemn little features. Through the shadows, she sees their faces are round with consistent meals – not boyishness. They have the slight scruff of early whiskers on their chins, and they carry the heavy weight of hard decisions in their steady gazes.

“Yes, yes, Hobbits! And we don’t need your protection, because we don’t need to go home to our parents! We make for the village of Bree-”

A third head appears from their hiding place. His honey-brown hair gleams in the faint light, and his sweet round cheeks are flushed. “Merry, don’t you tell her everything!”

“But we can trust her, Sam!” The first one – Pippin, she thinks – insists. “She attacked the Black Rider outside Farmer Maggot’s! She helped us get away!”

Three sets of eyes pierce her with their wariness, their hope.

She inclines her head. “Your friend is right. I am no threat to you. But there are many things in this forest that are – if you would go to the village of Bree, I will accompany you. When I can ensure your safety, I will take my leave. My condition remains the same: I want to know why the Nazgûl hunt you.”

Those three sets of curious eyes dart to the side of Sam. The fourth boy – rather, the fourth Hobbit – must still be hiding.

“Mr. Frodo?” Sam asks softly. “What do you think?”

Slowly, rich brown curls and bright blue eyes peer over their refuge of branch and mud. He regards her silently, with the suspicion of a startled young deer. She tries to relax the rigidness of her shoulders, her natural grimace. She tries to look friendly. She tries to be like Liesel.

“What is your name?” He asks softly, firmly.

“I am Dinah.”

“Why do you hunt the Black Riders?”

Her eyebrows raise. “That is not something that can be discussed here,” she says evenly. “Nor was it part of my offer.”

Frodo lifts his chin. “We must get out of the Shire. We go to the Prancing Pony, in the village of Bree. Our friend is waiting for us there. I would very much like it if you came with us… And when we are there, we will tell you our tale, if you would tell us yours.”

Dinah bows her head. “It is how you would have it.” She rests her hands on the twin swords at her hips, more out of comforting habit than any real sense of danger. “I am not familiar with this part of the world. How far is Bree? How do you plan to get there?”

The four Hobbits look at one another.

“Well, actually, Miss, we were sort of still figuring that out when you came,” Sam says sheepishly. “Hobbits don’t leave the Shire often, see.”

“Buckleberry Ferry,” Merry exclaims. “It’s not far; I know the way – just follow me!”

His suggestion is eagerly taken, the Hobbits all falling neatly in line behind him. It comes just in time, too – as Dinah moves to remount, she suddenly hears the rhythmic pounding of hooves.

She glances over her shoulder at the stumbling little Hobbits. They carry sacks which look as though they are full of food and bedding. No weapons. She remembers the Shire, its unusual serenity. Remembers her first thought when she saw it: a peaceful place with no warriors to defend it.

She’s on her own again.

“Miss Dinah?” Sam pauses his careful steps, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“You need to run,” she says as she draws her swords. “I’ll give you time.”

“But… but I thought you were coming with us,” Pippin chirps.

She takes a deep breath. “I will. First, I must ensure that I am your only travel companion this night.” The Dark Heralds gaze up at her with keen amethyst eyes as she swings the steel blades lazily, rolling her wrists, loosening her stiff aching joints. She uses the flat of one sword to swat at the broad behind of the black horse of Rohan; he snorts and walks off into grassier areas, bobbing his head. Hopefully he knows the way home, too. Don’t all creatures, deep down?

“Right,” Merry agrees. Now they can all hear the gaining gallop from just over the high bend. “The ferry is due west. You can smell it before you see it. We’ll wait for you there.”

Dinah tears her eyes from the road to give him a serious look. “You will do no such thing. If a Rider comes, you sail, with or without me. I’ll find a way to meet you in Bree.”

“But you don’t even know where-”

The Nazgûl charges over the crest of the hill. It rides in easy lopes, like it knows – it knows the hunt is over, the prey is just ahead.

The Hobbits don’t need her to tell them to run – she hears the heavy flop of their large feet scattering fallen leaves and squelching in mud, and soon they are swept into the safe embrace of the impenetrable night.

Dinah’s body feels heavy. Her eyes burn and the insides of her thighs are sore. Every step she takes feels like a punishment. But she still feels that familiar rush she always does when the Ring-wraiths are near, the strange surge of energy which makes her blood sing and her senses sharpen.

As the Black Rider approaches, she steps into the road and holds up her swords. “You will not find an easy path here, old man.”

The horse rears in fury. Dinah doesn’t so much as blink. She stares dead at the dark hood of the Rider, willing it to see her, but also hoping it doesn’t recognize her – and if it did, that somehow things would be different. Somehow.

Fluidly, the Nazgûl slips down the horse’s back and stands before her, as tall and black as the awakening thunderheads booming above them. It raises its long sword with both hands, almost as if asking her to be ready.

Dinah raises her blades behind her, settling on the balls of her aching feet, preparing to fly forth in righteous fury-

“Frodo!”

The shout stirs the sleeping wood. Flurries of birds shoot across the sky like a shower of feathered stars.

She looks at the impassive Nazgûl. It waits. The folds of its cloak don’t even rustle in the new autumn breeze.

Then she runs. It feels like a betrayal of herself, of everything she stands for, everything she is – after all, she’s spent months angry at her sisters for turning their backs on their duty as daughters of the Nine, but here she is, ignoring the curse’s task for perfect strangers.

Merry was right – the further west Dinah plunges, the more the air turns thick and musty. When she finally breaks through the trees, she’s greeted by the wide expanse of the Brandywine River. She’s crossed its chilly waters before in the heat of high noon, but at night, its natural beauty and breadth is almost eerie. It stretches many misty miles with no end in sight. The choppy surface is oddly luminous too, like liquid moonlight.

There’s a rundown boathouse just ahead, and through the rolling fog Dinah can see her new friends hurrying down the dock. A wooden raft waits for them. It’s small, but surely it can hold the five of them, she thinks – she hopes. After all, the Hobbits are so short in stature, and Dinah is on the smaller side as far as humans go…

But then she notices there are only three Hobbits aboard. Their golden heads shine by the dim torches as they frantically wave – not to her, but to Frodo. He’s still on the shore, stumbling over roots as he tries his best to get away from the prowling predator at his heels.

Dinah pants as she throws herself into a hard sprint, swords swinging beside her with audible slices. Her feet hammer like her anxious heart, and she wills herself to go just a little faster, just a little farther. If she dies tonight, nothing will hurt anymore. If she fails the Hobbits, it will hurt forever.

With a grunt, she leaps and lands where the dock meets the marshy shore, and her ankle nearly twists as she crouches low. Frodo is behind her – the Nazgûl in front. At the sight of Dinah, exhausted, determined Dinah in the soft lamplight of the pier, it shrieks, louder than ever before.

“Oh,” Frodo yelps and trips, dragging himself backward with his hands as he stares at the looming shape of the wraith.

“Get up!” Dinah orders, but she’s not sure if he can hear her through his terror. The other Hobbits cover their ears at the shrill, bone-chilling cry of the Nazgûl. “You’re almost there! Get up!”

When he finally rises, his run rattling the rotting boards beneath her, she almost sighs in relief. He’s going to make it.

The Nazgûl draws its sword and steps forward, an unfeeling statue of an evil warrior from long ago suddenly come to life.

Dinah plants her feet and readies her dual blades, pulse steadying as she lets curse-given instinct take over her body, command her mind…

“Come on!”

“Miss Dinah, run!”

She meets her enemy’s swift stoke with her swords in a cross. The contact zips up her tired arms like the distant flashes of lightning, but she scarcely feels it, slowly sinking into her adrenaline. Neither of them relinquish their hard press, sending bright sparks through the gloom.

“Hurry, Dinah!”

The next blow she takes with only one of her blades, guiding the tip of the frigid Morgul sword to the ground. Then she spins, swinging her left around in a high arc. The Dark Herald winks at her as she slam the glinting steel hilt against her enemy’s bony elbow.

Though the Nazgul are no longer truly human, they still feel pain – proven by the sharp scream of rage and hurt it lets out.

Dinah doesn’t hesitate. In those few precious seconds of its agony, she turns and sprints down the dim dock, her feet thundering across the boards rivaling the rumbling skies above them. The wind is picking up. The water is seething below. She can hear other black horses arriving, can feel one’s furious gallop gaining on her. The little raft the Hobbits sit on has drifted too far for her to make the jump; still, they wave to her, shout for her.

Three steps left, two steps, one…

Dinah takes a deep breath. She dives.

The cold Brandywine River rushes all around her, filling her ears with the churning of storm-bound waves and the strong natural current. She fights through the brisk cloud of bubbles, struggling to keep from gasping at the bitter chill. Her swords feel so heavy underwater – have they always been this heavy?

She forces herself to kick through the vastness, following the faint cast of the boat’s shadow, lungs straining. How long has it been since she swam? The desperate motions come gracelessly, muscle memory from at least an age ago, when the little lakes near the castle of her girlhood gave her relief from the relentless South sun.

When she comes to the surface in a froth of waves, she’s almost embarrassed by how raggedly she gasps.

“Dinah!”

Her hair falls across her face in a suffocating dark curtain. “I’m here,” she chokes out. “I’m fine.”

Sage is an avid swimmer: her father was Lieutenant of Dol Guldur, close to the winding Anduin, and she used to love regaling the Nine girls with stories about jumping into the Great River from the high cliffs of its pass. She and Dinah swam together once. Sage taught her to always turn her head to the side with each stroke so that she could breathe easier. “You’ll drown yourself, Dinah,” she had drawled. “You’re always looking forward – you need to look back every now and then.”

Sage thinks she knows everything, which is why she and Dinah are no longer close.

Her advice comes to Dinah now as she struggles, and when she stretches her body out for longer, deeper strokes, turning her head from side to side with each powerful sweep, she’s annoyed to find that it helps. When she looks behind her, drawing one sputtering breath, she sees the Black Riders gathered on the pier, watching them drift further and further out of their dark grasp.

When Dinah finally reaches the raft, the Hobbits desperately grab at her heaving shoulders with their small hands, and they accidentally tug off her sodden cloak instead of pulling her aboard. Pippin tosses the damp garment to the edge of the tiny flat vessel. Dinah watches, alarmed. Thankfully, it clumps in the corner.

“Here, I’ll pull myself up. Just take these, please.” She drops her dripping swords into Sam’s lap, who jerks away, sending them sailing across the deck. She lunges against the ledge, barely steadying their tumble before they slide overboard. She looks up at Sam with a brutal glare, ready to snap-

The pureness of his fear is breath-taking, almost contagious.

Dinah settles for a deep sigh instead. Hobbits are skittish around weapons. She should’ve known – this is new to them. She’ll have to do better in the future.

With a grunt, she hauls herself onto the raft. It rocks dangerously, violently, but it doesn’t capsize. The Hobbits stare down at her as she lays flat, shuddering and staring up at the storm clouds.

“Are you… alright?” Pippin finally asks her.

“Yes,” she breathes. “I just haven’t swum in a long time.”

“You did a great job. I don’t know how to swim at all. None of us do,” he tells her cheerily.

Merry scowls. “I can swim if I need to, Pip,” he says as he rows the single great oar. “It can’t be that hard.”

Dinah forces herself into a sitting position, blinking away floating spots. Her long hair is almost entirely out of her braid, sticking to her face and neck in thick ropes. “Frodo, are you-”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, with a quake of fear still in his voice. As fine as he can be, then, given the situation. He turns to Merry. “Where is the nearest crossing?”

“Brandywine Bridge,” he reports. “It’s about twenty miles at least.”

“And you’re all wet,” Sam remarks, looking at Dinah. She’s surprised to find genuine worry on his full face. “You’ll catch a cold.”

A large clap of thunder shakes all Middle Earth, and at long last, the downpour begins.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Pippin grumbles. “Very nice.”

Chapter 3: The Prancing Pony

#lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfic

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

What a relationship is like with the Lord of the Rings men:

 Aragorn:

He’s adorable in a relationship, honestly. 

Very affectionate when it’s just you and him, or if you initiate some sort of form of affection first

He’s protective but not over protective

You wanna go out and fight too? Great, he’ll give you a sword and fight next to you

His pet names for you are “Darling” and “Love”

If you join the fellowship he’s definitely nervous about it

He’s worried the whole time about you being in danger, which to be fair you constantly were

But any time there was a battle, he was next to you, fighting side by side, ensuring you were safe

When he finally accepts his claim to Gondor, he will call you “ My Queen/King”

On nights you can’t sleep (unless your elven because from what I’ve read they don’t necessarily need sleep) he will sing to you or tell you stories of all the places he had been too or heard about.

He definitely will make you flustered when your with him on purpose.

He’ll flirt with you and you’ll just stand there with this red face and he’ll act like nothing happened. 

He is not a jealous man by any means, he trusts you with his whole being

His go to means of affection is kissing your knuckles or forehead.

I get the vibes that he adores fiercely independent people so he can sit back and watch you kick ass and be like “Look at what my baby can do” 

When he becomes king, you bet your ass you’re ruling next to him

He loves you to the ends of the earth

Legolas:

He absolutely adores you

VERY affectionate

Will call you pet names in elvish, whispering sweet little things in your ear

his go to means of affection is hugs from behind and holding your hands

You bet your ass that if you’re a human, hobbit or any non immortal race, he will give up his immortality.

He will teach you elvish if you don’t know it

His go to pet names are “Dear” and “My love”

He is very gentle, very loving

He’s extremely protective but that mainly stems from the fact that he has SEEN SHIT MAN.

If you want to fight, he will agree to it but he definitely will not like it

He’s not a jealous man at all, in fact other men’s advances kind of go over his head.

If you can’t sleep he will tell you stories that he’s lived through

Course, some of them are so exciting it defeats the purpose of sending you to sleep

He actually likes it when you go on adventures with him

He loves having you with him 

You definitely tease him for being thousands of years old. 

you love making him laugh

And he does that all the time because he gets to see that gorgeous smile.

Frodo:

The purest relationship. Ever.

He is very affectionate

EXTREMELY protective

He loves hearing stories of outside the shire and he loves sharing his experiences too

He loves hugs and my gods he is GREAT at giving them

He loves it when you play with his hair.

He is like Legolas in the sense that he definitely won’t be happy if you want to go into battle but he won’t stop you

He would prefer you to stay behind out of danger but again, he will not stop you if you want to go

his pet names are “Honey” and “Darling” 

He’s honestly so pure it hurts

There is a BIG difference in personality if you meet him before the events of Lord of the Rings

For one, he’s a lot more bubbly before 

When he comes back he clearly has seen some shit

Sad thing: When there’s a party he can’t hear screaming without thinking its a ring wraith so he has to leave early most times

You love him though and he DEFINITELY loves you.

Samwise: 

LOYAL. AS. HELL.

Has the sweetest personality

brings you flowers every other day

He is very adamant though about you staying behind on adventures, he will get frustrated if you end up going any way but he will not be able to remain upset with you

He also really doesn’t enjoy having to watch you run into battle

Danger in general, ESPECIALLY if it’s around you, terrifies him

You love hearing his stories, him telling you all about some of the crazy things he’s experienced

If you meet him before the events of Lord of the Rings, he will mainly tell you wacky adventures he got himself into with Frodo or Merry and/or Pippin

Hell, he does that even if you meet him after.

He actually refrains from telling you about life outside the Shire because it kind of gave him trauma.

His favorite forms of affection is kissing your knuckles

He will be that guy who works his ass off for you to be able to live comfortably

He loves you and will make sure you know that fact.

Calls you “my dear” or “Darling” 

Merry:

He’s a goofball.

Expect the unexpected. 

He will definitely do really crazy things to make you laugh

little bit of a prankster

By a little bit I mean: He’s a chaotic little shit

He loves you so much though and knows where to draw a line

He LOVES it when you want to go off and do shit

You wanna fight? Great, he’s charging with you

Wanna randomly dance in the woods? He’s dancing with you

He loves spending time with you 

He is SO loyal, always by your side

Watch someone try to separate you, he will kick their ass

He loves dancing with you

His favorite form of affection is holding your hand

Something about it is just so nice

He loves you so much, honestly he could spend HOURS gushing about you

Pippin and Frodo are always over for dinner, along with Sam

They love being around you two, watching their friend be so happy 

He calls you “Love” and “Dear”

He loves cooking for you, mY GODS HE LOVES IT

Pippin:

Like Merry, massive goofball

little more of a crackhead though

He is less of a prankster, more of a cracking jokes kind of guy

He’s totally a goofball and will do all sorts of  things to make you laugh

you genuinely love him and he adores you to pieces

if you meet him after the events of Lord of the Rings, he’s definitely more serious but not by too much

He’ll have a few moments where he’ll space out and you’ll have to tap him to get his attention

He clearly suffered so much trauma while on that trip

He definitely becomes more serious after everything

Yeah, he’ll crack a joke here and there but he’s definitely changed

He doesn’t mind if you want to go off and fight, but you bet your ass he will charge with you like Merry

He loves watching you be a badass

You love hearing the hysterical adventures that he’s gone on with Merry

He loves watching you sing and dance

he will sing to you on nights that you can’t sleep

His voice is hella soothing

He loves playing with your hair

He actually has a talent for making flower crowns

Boromir:

He absolutely adores you

piggyback rides while on adventures are definitely a thing

he loves making you laugh in slightly tense situations

Giant Spider pops out? His ass looks at it and then you “Why can’t we ever encounter giant butterflies?” and then charge like he said something inspirational that motivated him into battle

He doesn’t mind if you want to fight, he’ll just guard you the entire time

He’s fiercely protective over you

He loves being affectionate

Very attentive

Cold?

His cloak will be wrapped around you

Tired?

He’ll carry you

Sick?

He’ll take care of you

He loves you so much

He is kind of jealous. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he doesn’t trust other people. 

He loves calling you “Princess/Prince” or “Sweetheart”

You love hearing about his life in Gondor

When he dies... oh gods

It breaks you

If you went with the Fellowship you were inconsolable 

His family gives you the horn of Gondor because they all are aware of him loving you

You two sadly have a bit of a tragic love story

Faramir:

Affectionate as fuck

Loves hugs, always has his hand on you in some sweet way

He loves you so much

He was always kind of the overlooked son so when he presented you as “Hey this is the woman/man I love” no one except Boromir notices

Boromir always looked as you as a sister/brother after that, loving the way his brother looked at you with so much adoration

He does not mind you wanting adventure one bit, so long as he’s charging next to you

He does not give a shit about a claim to the throne either

royal life does not suit this man as much as the adventure’s life does

He loves you so much

He is sort of reckless in battle and that worries you

it gets worse after Boromir dies

When you thought he died you were hysterical

Then Pippin made the observation that he was still alive

His father wasn’t hearing either of you

Then he turned out to be alive and you were so happy

Scolded the crap out of him for worrying you

You two love each other till the end

Gimli:

loves a woman/man who can hold their liquor

Oh he’s a complete crackhead

loves telling you stories of dwarven life

you love his wild stories

You keep his mind open

If your an elf he will refuse to be in love with you for a while

Oh you definitely have a kill count thing going on with him

He gets flustered when he sees you being a badass

He ain’t stopping you from doing SHIT

Wanna run into battle? Great, he’s supplying the swords and charging too

Wanna join the fellowship? He’ll complain about having to save another woman’s/man’s ass 

And then later get saved by you

He definitely enjoys watching you in battle

He loves hearing stories of your homeland

sure maybe your life isn’t as exciting but he loves hearing about your life

He’s not big on affection but if he’s excited, hugs. 

He also isn’t big on nicknames but he typically calls you “Lass”

He loves hearing you laugh

He says it’s like music

#gimli son of gloin #gimli x reader #lotr gimli #gimli #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x you #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader #frodo baggins #lotr frodo #faramir #boromir #merry and pippin #merry #pippin #samwise the brave #samwise gamgee

[velvet4510]

This might be a somewhat controversial claim - but it’s one that I feel makes the most sense considering all the circumstances of the situation…

(I write this as a fervent Sam/Frodo shipper AND a Sam/Rosie shipper, so proceed only if you are willing to remain polite in your potential responses to this.)

There is no doubt whatsoever, of course, that Sam was in love with Rosie throughout the story. Even when he fell in love with Frodo, it was on a whole other level from what he felt for Rosie … and thus his feelings for Rosie were never touched or changed. And pre-Quest, marriage was certainly on his mind.

That being said, I really feel like his decision to accompany Frodo meant he was essentially rejecting Rosie. This is mostly true for book canon, IMO. Many assume he was secretly hoping he could marry her when he returned to the Shire, as he always held out hope that he might return, but I don’t think this is the case, and here’s why.

Just the fact that Sam chose to accompany Frodo at all proves that Frodo was a larger priority for him than Rosie. He wanted to go with Frodo more than he wanted to marry Rosie. Some say “it’s only because of his sense of selfless duty,” but that’s only part of it. Anyone who thinks Sam didn’t truly WANT, with all of his heart, to go with Frodo, out of sheer love beyond duty, has simply failed to understand The Lord of the Rings. Platonic or romantic, Sam’s love for Frodo outweighs all others, and his choice to leave the Shire with him essentially meant he was putting Rosie in his rear-view mirror for good.

Sam was well aware that his return to the Shire was never guaranteed. Even when the hobbits first left the Shire without knowing their true danger, there was about a 40 to 50% chance that they would not return, at least for a long time.

Frodo literally sold his home in Hobbiton where Sam worked. Their official new home was in Crickhollow, which was extremely far away from Bywater where Rosie lived. Frodo himself wondered if he would EVER see the Shire again when he left, and was prepared to stay at Rivendell indefinitely, which meant Sam was, too.

Then they chose to go to Mordor, and their chance of never returning to the Shire rose to 99%.

Sam himself says this is exactly why he didn’t propose to Rosie before he left. He knew it was very likely he’d never come back, and he didn’t want to make her a promise he couldn’t keep. This is a rather final statement. And Rosie herself believed for a long while that he would never return. By leaving the Shire, Sam essentially broke up with her.

(This is why a potential romance betwen Frodo & Sam during and/or after the Quest does not involve any kind of infidelity; Sam had already ended things with Rosie just through the act of following Frodo.)

When Sam thought of Rosie during the Quest, it wasn’t a memory that focused on her in a romantic way (like in the movie). He thought of how much he’d like to “see her and her brothers again,” as well as his own sister, Marigold. At this point he really seemed to be thinking of her in a more platonic way, as he had pushed aside his deeper feelings for her when he found a soulmate love with Frodo.

Also, after the Quest on the way back to the Shire, they were not expecting the fight with the ruffians. Frodo and Sam must’ve assumed they’d still be living at Crickhollow, still so far away from Rosie.

Then when marriage to Rosie is actually mentioned in the book itself for the first time, Sam isn’t exactly jumping for joy about it. The actual passage in which he discusses it with Frodo sounds a lot like he wanted to marry Rosie just because he didn’t want to break her heart again. She had made it clear how upset she was that he left and how much she still wanted him. As a natural people-pleaser, this really hurt Sam. He didn’t want to hurt someone he loved. And yet he feared he would do just that if he did marry her, because he wasn’t about to abandon Frodo or break Frodo’s heart.

(Side note: servants marry all the time. There is seriously no platonic explanation for Sam feeling like he couldn’t marry Rosie while being with Frodo … the only reasoning that makes sense is that Sam and Frodo were officially a thing at this point and Sam did not want to leave Frodo or hurt him by marrying someone else.)

Thankfully Frodo was fine with the idea of the marriage and came up with the “poly”-ish situation that solved the problem. (I think this is because he knew he couldn’t stay in the Shire and wanted to ensure Sam was settled and would have someone to care for him after he, Frodo, was gone.) Between this and Rosie’s assertion, it feels more like Rosie and Frodo made the marriage decision for Sam. Which makes sense - Sam only thought of those he loved, never for himself, and would never think of doing anything that would possibly hurt either of the two most important people in his life.

Besides, I think it’s worth bearing in mind that the book text itself is the text of the Red Book, which Frodo himself wrote. It’s quite possible Frodo’s written account differs somewhat from the reality. It’s quite possible their conversation went very differently than it goes in the text. I think there’s a good chance that Rosie herself made the proposal, and Sam was against the idea completely because he’d chosen Frodo, but then when Frodo reminded him of how much he wanted a family deep down and assured him he would not be hurt by it, and when Rosie assured him she understood that their life would always include Frodo, only then did Sam say yes. Then Frodo tweaked it when he wrote the Red Book to hide the truth about his and Sam’s relationship. If you read Elenya54’s brilliant fanfic “All That I Had” on AO3, this is exactly what happens and it just rings very true and accurate.

This is not to hate on Rosie herself, or on her and Sam’s relationship. On the contrary, I adore both - it’s wonderful that Sam had her to love, and love him in return, in order to keep on having something to live for after the loss of his soulmate Frodo. And I feel like reading LOTR from this angle makes Rosie an even more amazing character - she knew she’d always be second to Frodo in Sam’s heart, but she didn’t care. All she truly wanted was a life with Sam, and was willing to break Shire convention and enter a “poly”-ish situation in order to get it. (Just the fact that she canonically moved into Bag End with Frodo as well as Sam, let Frodo name Elanor, and then agreed with Sam that they should name their first son after Frodo indicates that Tolkien intended her to have a love and acceptance of Frodo that was not prominent in the Shire at that point as most hobbits didn’t care about what happened to him and thought he was just being weird by acting so traumatized. But not Rosie. Any gal with this much compassion and understanding is a perfect match for Sam. We all know Sam would never love or want anything to do with someone who would not treat Frodo right. Only Rosie Cotton could ever hope to come close to matching Frodo in Sam’s heart. And I love her for it.)

Yet there’s just way too much evidence that Sam didn’t really return to the Shire with the intention of marrying Rosie. It feels more like he gave up on the idea the moment he accompanied Frodo, and then it was Rosie who put the idea in his head when he returned, and even then, it was only when Frodo assured him it wasn’t a betrayal of their own love that Sam went through with the marriage. And then never regretted it, as they went on to have a happy wonderful life that kept him going without Frodo.

…does anyone agree….?

#lotr #jrr tolkien #samfro #lotr books #lord of the rings #sam x frodo #sam x rosie #frodo x sam x rosie #samfrosie #samwise gamgee #rosie cotton #frodo baggins

[randomfandomimagine]

They Cheer You Up (Lord of the Rings Preference)

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, Pippin, Merry

Fandom: Lords of the Rings

Requested by anon: Hi, could I please request a preference with Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn, Eomer, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck cheering the reader up? Thank you!!

A/N: Sorry if it’s a bit short, today I’ve done so much writing that my brain is kind of fried, so I hope you still like and enjoy this anyway! 😅😋

_

Frodo 

Frodo would just speak his mind, and give you reasons he honestly believes could cheer you up. He also compliments you, quite earnestly, and remind you why you are great and why he holds you so very dearly and close to his heart. He might also take a walk around the forest with you, hoping a chat and a calm evening outside will lift your spirits.

Sam

With Sam, it comes naturally, so he has no problem in being optimistic and saying things to hopefully cheer you up. He reminds you of the good things in life, how beautiful the sun is as it shines high in the sky and how warm and comforting it is, or how lovely it is to see the little animals moving around in the grass, or how delicious food is and how there’s always something good and worth getting through your bad days for, and it warms your heart and makes you smile.

 Legolas 

Legolas doesn’t really know what to do, so he just stays by your side and promises himself not to leave you until you’ve at least smiled once. You spend the day together, chatting and walking and it seems to distract you enough that your mood improves, and Legolas’ stories of elves also help quite a lot ot keep your mind busy.

Aragorn 

Aragorn is incredibly intuitive, especially when it comes to you since he knows you so well. He’s also very empathetic and soon realizes why you need cheering up. For that reason, he knows exactly what to say to make you feel better and what to do to comfort you and he’s happy to provide you with affection and words of comfort.

Eomer 

Eomer mostly gives you courage. You feel defeated and alone, so he reminds you that it’s not the case. At first you don’t listen, knowing that he cares too much about you to be objective, but then his words start sinking in. He says that you’re strong and brave and that not only you can live through that bad day and many others that may haunt you, but that he will also be ever at your side so you don’t have to suffer through them alone.

Pippin 

Pippin is kind, emotional, sensitive and very empathetic. He makes you feel understood, he comforts, makes you feel like you’re not alone, like he can understand what you’re feeling and that it’s perfectly okay to feel that way. He doesn’t have a problem showing his emotions, and less so you talking about them, so he will listen to you if you want to talk and maybe even sing you a beautiful song to cheer you up.

Merry

Merry would goof around. He’s not quite as emotional as Pippin, even if he too can be sensitive, so he prefers to make you laugh instead. Of course, if you want to talk he will intently listen, but he knows his jokes and playfulness will most effectively cheer you up and he keeps saying silly things and tickling you to get you to smile or laugh at him.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​​ / @dancewaterdance02​ / @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @of-stardust-and-dreams​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @ikemencrossedmyth​ / @bravelittlesunflower​ / @lxncelot​ / @ta-ka-shi-ma​ / @okay-j-hannah​ / @suenami3​ / @swanimagines​ / @lovinghufflepuffgirl​ / @fedorable-killjoys​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#frodo baggins x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #aragorn x reader #eomer x reader #peregrin took x reader #meriadoc brandybuck x reader #pippin took x reader #merry brandybuck x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #rfi writings #preference #lord of the rings preference #lotr preference #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #legolas greenleaf #aragorn #eomer #peregrin took #meriadoc brandybuck #reader insert #requested

[jkl-fff]

SamFro moments y’all are sleeping on from “The Ring Sets Out”

(Book 1 of the series, also part 1 of “The Fellowship of the Ring”)

A lot is made, and rightly so, of later moments in the series.    Their sometimes-teasing but always affectionate banter,    the easy encouragement and praise they give each other,    the physical proximity they always maintain       (pretty much always next to one another, gently touching,        sleeping side by side, the frequent hand holding),    the soft appellations between each other like pet names,    the times Sam contemplates how beautiful Frodo is,    or literally says “I love him”, or is described as fighting    like an animal defending its mate to protect Frodo,    how they live together in Bag End after returning home ...

But there are two moments specifically before they even leave the Shire that I rediscovered recently. And both are just so ...

Firstly, in the books, Frodo doesn’t depart suddenly from the Shire       (the films made a prudent change in having him do so,       given the exigencies of a cinematic adaptation,       but it is still a large departure from the original source). Rather, trying to act clandestinely so as to not tip off any of Sauron’s potential spies, he claims to be running low on money, sells Bag End, and makes a big show of moving away to a somewhat secluded, little cottage out near the Shire’s border (in Buckland, near where his friend and cousin Merry lives).    The idea is he and Sam can slip away easily from there    without being seen AND without anyone realizing afterwards    they’ve disappeared for a longer amount of time          (compared to Bag End in the middle of the Shite).    Giving them a head start in escaping with the Ring.

BUT THE THING IS ...

It’s presented as simply a matter of course that Sam is moving to this secluded, little cottage, too, to be Frodo’s live-in gardener.    Instead of, y’know, continuing his own life in his own home    in Hobbiton (living in a separate property from Bag End)    and continuing his own career of working on at the old manor    with its HUGE and somewhat famous grounds as staff    for the new owners, as would be expected. Sam’s gonna just up and move away       (practically to another country by Hobbit reckoning) AND ALSO move in with Frodo in this secluded, little cottage.    AND NOBODY--INCLUDING SAM’S DAD--BATS AN EYE    AT THAT STORY. ALL THE HOBBITS ARE LIKE,     “YEAH, THAT FITS,” AS IF THEY’VE BEEN EXPECTING    THESE TWO TO GET A PRIVATE LOVE NEST    OUT AWAY FRON GOSSIPY EYES FOR AGES ALREADY.

Secondly, even before Frodo realizes he has the Ring and must quest off and away to Mordor to destroy it, he spends literally years growing restless and quietly readying to go off into the wilds like Bilbo had.       Like, this starts waaaaay before the first part above--       before he starts planning to slip away from the Shire       and its decided (by Gandalf AND by Sam’s own devotion)       Sam will accompany him. His friends (Merry, Pippin, and Fatty Bolger) notice this, and worry about him and his mental health so much that they form a “conspiracy” to keep an eye on him.    Maybe to stop him, maybe to join him on whatever adventure    so at least he’s not going out into the dangerous wilds alone.    This is why Merry and Pippin are so ready to leave the Shire    with Frodo, in fact; not that they thought it’d be a quest    to thwart the Dark Lord, initially, but they did seem to think    they’d be accompanying him to go ... somewhere. How do they plan to keep an eye on him? By recruiting Sam to be their spy! Which Sam of course does       (at least until he learns about the Ring       and is sworn/threatened to complete secrecy by Gandalf) because he’s also been worried about Frodo’s mental health! When Sam’s part is revealed to Frodo, he’s shocked and laughs and says,     “I’ll never believe you’re sleeping ever again,    not even if you snore! I shall kick you, just to make sure!”

Which is a pretty strange thing to say ... UNLESS SAM WAS ALREADY SLEEPING REGULARLY IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO FRODO.

I guess what I’m saying is ... It was a long way to Mordor, sure.    But it was also a long way to Rivendell,    to the village of Bree, to Buckland,    and even to the end of Bagshot Row.

#lord of the rings #LOTR #samfro #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #the fellowship of the ring

[marybeatriceofmodena]

You know, I’ve been thinking today about how Alina doesn’t even really work as a Reluctant Hero, compared her to Frodo to see the key differences (since Frodo is pretty much the Poster Child for the Reluctant Hero), and then I realized... 

You know, I think L/eigh B/ardugo wrote TGT as a very black-and-white fairytale, where Alina is the princess, Mal’s the knight in the shining armor, and the Darkling is basically the dragon, except it doesn’t really work because the worldbuilding requires an approach that’s... a lot more grey? 

The thing is, though, I realized... Alina and Mal are basically meant to be Frodo and Sam. Except that, again... it doesn’t really work. 

Frodo works as a Reluctant Hero, because he makes it clear multiple times that he doesn’t want to carry the Ring. He asks Gandalf to do it for him, he asks Galadriel, he asks Aragorn, and they all refuse, because they are (or are called to be) in a position of power, and while them being in a position of power is presented as good, the One Ring essentially represents the fast, easy way to get to it, which will ultimately corrupt them rather than have them fight their way towards their goal. 

Frodo, meanwhile, is the right person to carry the Ring, because he comes from a humble place and he doesn’t really have any aspirations to become powerful. And while he’s clearly burdened by having to carry the One Ring, and that he makes it clear that he wishes the Ring had never come to him, he still goes on anyway, despite all the hardships he faces, because his ultimate goal is to save the Shire and his friends, and that desire is stronger than any fear or greed he may have. 

Now, J.R.R. Tolkien himself said that he didn’t really see Frodo as THE Hero, and that Sam is the real Hero of the story to him. Which makes sense, given how Sam was based off young men from rural England he met while fighting in World War I. But also, the story makes it very clear that without Sam, who’s arguably the most pure-hearted person in all of Middle-Earth, Frodo would have definitely failed in his task. The reason why he resists the temptation to carry the One Ring is LITERALLY because him protecting and helping Frodo is more important to him. Sam doesn’t give two shits about power. Helping Frodo save the Shire and coming back to everything he’s ever loved is more important to him. 

Both Alina and Frodo are pure-hearted orphans who are given tremendous power: Alina is the Sun Summoner, and Frodo carries the One Ring. In both cases, power is represented as a corruptive force, that makes people go mad with greed. It works in the context of The Lord of the Rings, given how the rings were given to leaders of Elves, Dwarves and Men, and that Sauron created the One Ring to rule over and control all of them. The Grisha, on the other hand, unlike the Ring-bearers, are not in a position of power, given they are essentially victims of Fantastic Racism in pretty much every country. While Ravka treats them slightly better than in Fjerda or Shu Han, it’s still not ideal and it’s something that could be taken away from them at any moment. It would be an entirely different matter if the Grisha were the ones rulling over Ravka and viewing otkazat’sya as lesser, and in that context, Alina being the Sun Summoner would be a very obvious road to her becoming corrupted. 

Frodo refusing to carry the One Ring and asking other people to take that burden from him comes from a place of genuine fear of what the Ring might do to him. In his place, we’d probably all do the same thing. That’s what makes his acceptance of his task all the more admirable. Alina, on the other hand, refuses to be the Sun Summoner and to help her fellow Grisha because that stands in the way of her ending up with Mal. She never gives any sign that she’s truly empathizing with the Grisha’s plight, she tries to run away not once, but twice, and most importantly, she never sees herself as one of them. They are othered, but it matters little to her, because she doesn’t want to be othered herself, because that stands in the way of her running off with a boy. It’s basically the equivalent of Frodo being overcome by fear after seeing the fate of the Shire in Galadriel’s mirror, and just demanding to be sent to the Grey Havens straight away to save his own ass from it all and just leaving the One Ring to whoever wants to deal with it. At that point, it’s not being a Reluctant Hero: it’s being a coward at best, a selfish bastard at worst. 

(And that’s why I don’t really buy her when she tells Aleksander that they could have had it all if he had told her all the truth from the start, because... again, she didn’t seem to care about the Grisha that much and Aleks telling her everything would have actually been a sure way of having her run as fast as possible the other way. I know the story is trying to tell me otherwise and that the plot point I’m supposed to see here is that Alina was willing to do something until she felt betrayed by Aleks, which is... not what was shown here, and it’s especially annoying considering how Alina is a deserter in every sense of the word, and that any army would have court-martialed her for running away.) 

So if Alina is meant to be a pure, selfless heroine, who loses her powers because she also refuses to be greedy... that just falls completely flat, because if anything, she’s as selfish as Frodo is selfless, because all of this really just boils down to her wanting to run off with Mal. 

Now, onto Sam and Mal. Both of them are basically Everymen who are there to help the Hero and keep their feet on the ground. As mentioned earlier, Sam is the one who helps Frodo finish his mission to Mordor, and the story makes it clear Frodo would have failed without him. TGT meanwhile presents Mal as Alina’s “True North”... which could work on paper as Alina’s reminder to temper Aleksander’s efforts and to remind him that in order for Grisha to be viewed as people, it is important for them to also remember that balance and peace between Grisha and otkazat’sya will be essential, so resentment and hatred can be healed between both groups. 

The key difference here is that Sam is completely supportive of Frodo at all times. Even when Frodo sends him away in the film, Sam goes back after him the minute he realizes he’s been tricked by Gollum. He never shames Frodo whenever he falls prey to temptation, he simply reminds him of who he is and what he must fight for, and even when he’s climbing Mount Doom, he still carries Frodo on his back despite being probably completely exhausted, because Frodo’s more exhausted than he is. He completely accepts Frodo as both his friend, the Hobbit from the Shire, and the Ring-bearer he needs to help, even if he might die in the process. 

Mal (in the books, that is) makes it very clear that he does not accept Alina as both the girl he knew and the Sun Summoner. He only wants the girl, and whenever Alina makes steps towards being the Sun Summoner, he basically sulks and yells at her for not paying attention to him. Despite Alina becoming othered in the eyes of the world, he refuses to see her as othered, mostly because it is inconvenient to him rather than because he loves her for who she is. That’s why in the end, people feel like Alina lost her powers in order to be with Mal, because Mal would never accept her in her entirety. Sam, on the other hand, accepts Frodo as both Ring-bearer and Hobbit, because if he didn’t, Frodo would have failed. 

And while they made Mal in the show a lot nicer than his book counterpart, he still doesn’t work as Alina’s “True North”, because he cossets her in her selfishness. He may say he doesn’t care about how Alina is a Grisha in this one, but he also doesn’t consider the implications of it all - which is especially glaring given he’s a soldier himself. Like, look, if you’re going to slap in a racism plotline to make Mal/ina work, you’d think that being half-Shu would give Mal a little awareness that people are going to treat Alina badly for being half-Shu AND a Grisha, and given Alina is the MOTHERFUCKING SUN SUMMONER AND A SAINT, maybe, just maybe he’d tell her: “Heh, it’s kinda lame we’ll just run off and let everyone else in the dust, you know, especially since we could make our lives as well as everyone else’s better?” Seriously, if you’re going to make Mal Alina’s “True North”, have him face her duties and her calling whether she likes it or not, don’t coddle her when she wants to run the other way because she wants to hide under a rock for the rest of her life. 

With all that being said, that leaves us with the Darkling, who... I mean, given his whole schtick is that power corrupts and makes you evil and crazy, I guess that makes him Gollum, but sexy. 

Gollum, but sexy. 

That single expression has been haunting me ever since I started writing the above novel and I fucking hate it. You’re welcome. No one wanted Sexy Gollum. Absolutely no one. Fuck this shyte. See, this is why I want Darkling Redemption. I do not want to live in a world where Gollum is sexy. I need brain bleach. 

Even here it doesn’t even fucking work because Gollum hid in a cave with the Ring with a strategically placed cloth because no one wants to see his crusty ass family jewels anyway, while Aleks worked his ass off to give the Grisha a safe place to live and to at the very least ensure they’re useful enough to not be killed like animals. Like, if you’re going to give the world something that’s gonna definitely not make me sleep tonight like Sexy Gollum, at least do it right. 

#now i have thoroughly traumatized myself :) #anti grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #anti mal #anti malina #darklina #alarkling #rants and reviews

[aragornsrockcollection]

I have read and enjoyed reading many fics with the plot “Elrond tracks down and refuses to leave Maglor behind when he sails to Valinor.”

I would happily read a dozen more, I am but a simple fan of angsty reunions and unexpected forgiveness that sets characters on a path of schmoopy healing through the power of love and family.

You know what I’ve never seen but would read the shit out of?

Galadriel tracks down Maglor and refuses to sail without him.

Why on earth would she do that? Who knows that’s why I’m interested!

She’s still full of pride and refuses to let one of her cousin’s out-stubborn her record-stay in Endor. If she’s going home, she’s gonna have been the last rebel Noldo on middle earth damnit. Of course this would be couched in language like “Our time on these shores is over, and even penance must have an end.” And sound very wise.

He’s still her cousin and she loves him despite everything. She thinks he’s suffered enough, maybe even regrets she did not interfere to stop his suffering earlier.

She love’s her son-in-law Elrond, and in light of losing her granddaughter to the choice of Luthien, and having been separated from her daughter all these years by the sea, she can’t stand to see a another perminent parting when she can prevent it. Maybe she was even friends with her aunt Nerdanel long ago and has been thinking about how Maglor may deserve what he has sentenced himself to, but those who love him don’t deserve to suffer with him.

She is finally forgiven and permitted to return to Valinor, but she’s still Galadriel, and if the Valar thought her return was going to be simple and predictable they forgot who they were dealing with. How better to stir the pot than bring the last Feanorian home?

She intended to just say goodbye and good riddance, and tie up a final loose end. But damnit, he’s so pathetic, she can’t build up the vitriol.

She feels like, having finally been forgiven, she should forgive in turn, having grown as a person. Boring, I know.

She never actually believed he was living like a hermit on the beach. Her cousin Makalaure? Sure, he was far from the worst of them, but he was as proud as any of his brothers, and perhaps the most fond of material comforts of them all, save maybe Caranthir. But he always was great at twisting a narrative to do what he wanted, and the penitent sinner wandering singing to the wind is just the sort of yarn he’d spin to cast himself in a sympathetic and romantic light before he disappeared to start over. Wait. He’s really here and half mad- half faded? That is the stupidest thing she’s ever heard, she refuses to let him stay like this.

Celebrian once told her offhand she wished she could have met the men that raised her husband and this is something she can give to her, after all the world has taken.

She doesn’t get to see Feanor’s face at finding out she gave three of her hairs to a dwarf, and telling Maglor is as close as she’s going to get to that satisfaction.

Without Maglor around, Finrod is considered the greatest bard of the Noldor, and she’s still pissed at him for dying in such a stupid way. So Maglor will be coming to Valinor to put him in his place whether he wants to or not.

She made a bet with Aredhel on the ice over which of the Feanorians would survive the longest, and she knows rumor and songs are not going to suffice for proof that she won.

Frodo asked her if it was true Maglor still wandered the shores, and if he would ever be permitted to come to Valinor to heal. And she refused to look like someone who keeps grudges for longer than his race has even existed in front of him.

He owes her money.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #lotr #jirt #silmarillion #silm #the lord of the rings #Maglor #galadriel #jrr tolkien #Maglor Feanorian #kidnap fam #Sailing to Valinor #crack #fic ideas #elrond #finrod #gimli #aredhel #beach cryptid