#gondorian new year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ass-deep-in-demons · 6 months

Text

✦ Seeing White ✦

Fandom: Lord of the Rings Genre: slice of life, comedy, romance Characters: Faramir, Eomer, Boromir, Eowyn, Lothiriel, Legolas, Merry Rated: G Length: 3119 words, one-shot

This work is dedicated to @emilybeemartin and directly inspired by her art, and also these recent posts circulating in the Boromir fandom: [slutty white shirt] and [rain soaked Boromir].

I am tagging the folks who got tangled in the Wet Shirts Shenanigans: @sotwk, @scyllas-revenge, @thetempleofthemasaigoddess, @konartiste, @emyn-arnens, @nihilizzzm, @emmanuellececchi. If you didn't want to be tagged I'm sorry, pls ignore :)

✦✦✦

Minas Tirith, 1st of Lótessë 3019 TA

Yes, thought Faramir. This is a great idea. The Ladies will be thrilled.

The day was perfect, too. From the windows of his chambers in the Citadel, all across the White City Faramir could spot the many signs of the long awaited Spring. Together with the verdant Gondorian flora awakening to life after the months of darkness and cold, so, too, were the people of Minas Tirith rising from their knees past the indignity of War. Just as the trees were dressing themselves up in colourful bloom, so were the inhabitants of the old Minas Anor decorating the streets for the impending coronation of their new King Elessar. The merchants, like wandering birds, were returning from distant lands to their abandoned shops and stalls, striving to make up for the losses sustained recently by the Gondorian economy.

It was, for Faramir, self-evident that such a day would be best spent in the Archives of the Grand Library. Granted, if it were for Faramir to decide, all days would be library days; this day, however, was especially well-suited to that purpose. Having the confidence of the palace wait-staff, through careful intelligence he had ascertained that Lady Eowyn, the bold and beautiful sister to the King of Rohan, had today off. It would be delightful to guide her through the collection of scrolls depicting the Fall of Numenor - Faramir could not imagine more romantic circumstances. If not his humble person, then the priceless works of illuminatory art would certainly impress the White Lady.

There remained the question of propriety, naturally. Here, too, he had both luck and days of prior careful planning on his side. Out of all of the birds flocking to Minas Tirith after the thaw, perhaps the most colourful (and certainly the loudest) was his little cousin Lothiriel. The lass was come from Dol Amroth with her brothers to join the upcoming celebrations. This was her debut among the Minas Tirith nobility and so Boromir and Faramir were expected to escort her on occasion, as a courtesy to their uncle the Prince.

What a splendid opportunity to marry duty with pleasure: give his young cousin a lesson in history and spend time in the company of the White Lady. The White Lady in the White City - such an occasion called for the whitest, most pristine of his shirts, and also his best doublet. On this day he was allowed a bit of vanity and he was quite pleased with the results, when he checked himself in the mirror one last time.

Faramir left his chambers and descended to the Courtyard, where he was met with the view that had never failed to cause a pang in his heart, ever since the tender years of his boyhood. In the centre of the sun-bathed plaza, on an islet on the Fountain grew the White Tree of Gondor. In the past, its name referenced its lush white bloom, the beauty of which, if the legends could be trusted, was an echo of the mythical Trees of Valinor. For centuries now the name had only been associated with the Tree’s dry and dead white wood, from which the bark had long been peeled off by the weather. Nary a bud had been spotted since the long gone days of Steward Belecthor.

On that day, though bare as ever, the Tree did not stand there all alone. Under its branches, seemingly caught up in his thoughts, the young King of Rohan was strolling and admiring the Fountain. Faramir, who himself had never been to Rohan, had met Eomer King only recently, in non-too-happy circumstances. All the Lords of Gondor had had the honour of attending a vigil around the bier of the old Theoden King, who had fallen in the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Even though several weeks had passed already since that ceremony, the shadows of the battle past could still be spotted lurking on the noble face of the Horse Lord Eomer. Still, his good humour seemed to be gradually returning to him, if the sharpness of his gaze and the healthy colour on his cheeks were anything to judge by.

The young King of the Rohirrim was, coincidentally, just who Faramir needed at that moment, as without his blessing Faramir’s plans would all be for naught. The matter needed to be carefully broached. Luckily, Faramir was nothing if not subtle.

“Eomer King!” he hailed and politely inclined his head in greeting.

“Just Eomer would suffice,” said the Man of Rohan. “My brother Theodred bore great love for your own brother and always hosted him gladly at the Golden Hall. For all the stories I’ve heard about you growing up, I feel as if we were best friends already, Lord Faramir.”

“And who am I to spurn the friendship of a King?” said Faramir and smiled. “Eomer, then, and you must call me by my name as well.”

“Do you think it will sprout leaves again?” asked Eomer, and Faramir understood that he was talking about the Tree. “You know, after Aragorn’s Enthronement?” This did seem too good to come true. Even though from under the Tree’s roots water continued to spring and feed the Fountain, it was difficult to believe that the dry branches held even one drop of sap.

“That, I would want to know myself,” said Faramir wistfully. He felt gooseflesh erupt on his arms at the thought that he might yet witness the Tree blossom in his lifetime. “I would very much like to see the face of my brother, when that happens,” he added quietly.

“And how fares your brother?” asked Eomer. “I’ve heard he’s been through an ordeal during the War of the Ring.”

Faramir hesitated. An ordeal would be an understatement, he thought. Boromir was not himself ever since he’d returned from the War. Faramir could see right through his brother’s facade. He had been pushing himself to the limits, working day and night like a madman. But Faramir was loath to share his worries with Eomer just yet, so he opted for a diplomatic answer.

“My brother is dedicating his every effort to the betterment of Gondor, as was always his way,” he carefully admitted. “I don’t think he’ll allow himself a moment’s respite until Aragorn is seated on that throne, at last. Thank you for your concern, thought. The sentiment is much appreciated. In fact,” Faramir grimaced, “it is rather I who ought to be enquiring about the wellbeing of your Lady sister.” He looked at Eomer and saw the man’s features soften at the mention of Lady Eowyn.

“She is better than I could have hoped for,” said Eomer with a tentative smile, “in part thanks to your patient encouragement, back in the Houses of Healing… for which I am much obliged, by the by. Of late, she’s been out more. I deem it a good sign.”

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Faramir, and then he quickly checked himself. “Erm… I mean, I’m glad to hear her spirits have improved…” He gathered his courage. “In fact, I am grateful for the opportunity to talk to you on this very matter. You see, I’ve devised a plan, which needs but your approval…”

“A… plan?” Eomer echoed, visibly apprehensive.

“Indeed. I’ve been meaning to take my little cousin Lothiriel to the Archives of Minas Tirith today, to show her our priceless collection of painted scrolls. Perhaps the Lady Eowyn could be persuaded to join us. It would be good… for her moods, I mean!”

Eomer raised his brow at that.

“Now that is a peculiar coincidence. You see, I had planned to take my sister out for a horse ride today, and I was meaning to propose that your cousin Lothiriel would join us in this entertainment. The other day, during dinner, she mentioned her interest in the steeds of Rohan…”

Faramir frowned. His carefully devised plan was now falling apart for this new development. Though he had started his riding lessons as soon as he had learned to walk, aware of his strengths Faramir knew: he had a far better chance at impressing the Lady with his wits than with his equestrian prowess. This matter with Eomer King required a subtle approach. He decided to try dissuasion.

“Curious, indeed. Last time I witnessed my cousin in the saddle, she fell off and broke her ankle. She has been wary of horses ever since…” Faramir mentioned casually. Granted, Lothiriel had been seven when that happened, however Eomer did not need to know that.

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. A vein on the Horse Lord’s temple started pulsing, Faramir noticed.

“And you, my good man, do not know mine sister, if you think a day among old parchment could ever improve her mood,” Eomer bit back.

Faramir felt a wave of hot anger roll through him. Eomer’s comment stung. Was it possible that Lady Eowyn, so eager to listen to his tales of Gondor’s history back in the Houses of Healing, could indeed reject his offer of a good time in the Archives? Reluctant though he was, he had to admit: where she was concerned, his usually clear mind became clouded. For the first time in his life, emotions made him doubt his better judgement. Eomer, however, seemed to be faring no better, judging from his face, which was getting visibly… flushed?

“Hold on, Eomer…” Faramir put two and two together. “You mean to… spend time with Lothiriel? You do!” Now this sat ill with Faramir, who was used to thinking of his cousin as a little girl, and not a woman grown, ready to be courted. “Have you any idea how young she is? Barely seventeen, I’d wager!”

Eomer levelled Faramir with a deeply unimpressed look.

“You’d loose, too, for she is twenty, and I am eight and twenty! Which is perfectly respectable, and also none of your business. The Lady’s father, the Prince of Dol Amroth, has already consented to my courting her,” siad Eomer icily.

Faramir felt momentarily mortified about his outburst. Ah, this was bad. Of course the most pressing matter for Eomer right now would be to marry well, and of course the noble, beautiful and now decidedly of age Princess Lothiriel would be his intended. And if that were so, then Faramir might have just offended his prospective brother-in-law. Still, he was convinced he could use this unfortunate situation to his advantage.

“He has? Oh, that is well then. I wish you all the luck with securing the Lady’s favour. Unfortunately, my uncle Imrahil has also already approved of my plans to take Lothiriel for a history lesson to the Archives today. You are most welcome to join us, if you will. As is the Lady your sister, with your approval,” he added hastily, hoping to repair some of the damage caused by his ill-advised words.

“Denied! I am taking my sister for a ride today, and that is that,” said Eomer, who seemed to have taken offence from Faramir’s questioning of his motives regarding Lothiriel.

“I beg, Eomer, reconsider…” Faramir began, but then something strange happened. He felt a firm shove upon his shoulder and the ground was abruptly swept from under his feet. He flailed his arms, but that did not avail him - he toppled over the edge of the Fountain and…

SPLASH!

Next he knew, he was taking in a lungful of its fresh water. When he emerged to the surface, sputtering and coughing, he was met with the sight of his brother, who took his place next to Eomer at the water’s edge. Boromir was fresh past his training, already out of his plate, only sporting an unbuttoned surcote over his shift. He was flashing his teeth in a wide grin, his arms crossed cockily over his broad chest.

“Of course it is you, brother,” said Faramir somewhat bitterly. “I see your signature subtlety has not left you over the course of the War.” He could not stay mad at Boromir for long though. Not when his moments of good-natured mischief and levity, so frequent before the Ring, were now so few and far between.

“Forgive me, little brother,” said Boromir, affecting solemnity, “but only you could have thought taking a Lady to the library would serve you well. As your elder it is my duty to tutor you in the ways of women.”

“Hold on, he wanted to woo my sister with books? Hahaha!” Eomer was in stitches about the concept. “Oh, that is rich indeed! Wait ‘till she…”

SPLASH!

Eomer landed in the Fountain right beside Faramir, giving out a most undignified squeak. This did serve to improve Faramir’s mood a great deal.

“Only I get to make fun of my brother,” said Boromir, putting his hands on his hips. “King or no king, you’d do well to mark that, young Eomer! And you will not be telling your sister about any of this. She would…”

Faramir rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed under Boromir’s bulk, as the elder brother, too, inevitably hit the water with a great -

SPLASH!

“Do not presume to speak for me, Boromir of Gondor!” warned Eowyn, towering over the three of them. “And you too, brother! I am perfectly capable of managing my own affairs, thank you very much.” She had pushed Boromir into the Fountain with such effortless grace, and told both of Faramir’s tormentors off without a hint of hesitation! She was perfection, Faramir knew. Had he not been in love with her already, he would have fallen head over heels for her at that moment. “I would be glad to join you for a tour about the Archives, Lord Faramir,” said Eowyn, and honestly, it all seemed too good to be true.

“I have never seen you pick up a book in your life, sister,” said Eomer, “save to throw it at our tutor.” He pushed his wet hair back from his face and attempted to stand up, only to slip and plop down once again.

“Slander!” cried Eowyn, and the most beautiful blush crept onto her face. “I love books! I definitely have read a lot of books in my time! And I happen to take a great interest in the history of Gondor, of late,” she fumbled visibly, which only added to her charm in Faramir’s eyes.

He stood up and shivered. His elegant brocade doublet, which he had picked especially for this occasion, was now entirely ruined. He hastily shook it off, not wanting the richly coloured fabric to stain his white shirt underneath. He wiped off the water from his face, and finally deeming himself presentable (for a given definition of the word) addressed the Lady.

“I would be delighted to personally recommend to you the best historical monographs from our Library, my fair Lady Eowyn,” said Faramir and bowed, smiling widely. “Going through them will of a certainty take some time, but I wholeheartedly offer all the assistance I could give in your studies.”

“You know not what you have signed up for, Lady,” said Boromir, who was still sitting in the water up to his chest, and not in any rush to get up.

“Oh, I think the Lady knows perfectly well what she has signed up for,” the merry voice of Prince Legolas of Mirkwood sounded from behind Eowyn, and it was only in this moment that Faramir realised the White Lady had not come here alone. Distracted by her radiant presence, he had failed to notice the Elf, who was standing a little way off with Meriadoc Brandybuck, one of the Perians, and a furiously blushing, uncharacteristically quiet cousin Lothiriel. The three of them appeared to be carrying… hammers and chisels? Although the girl seemed to have dropped hers and focused on fanning her beet-red face instead.

“We were just off to the City, to help with the renovations of the houses on the Third Level. Master Gimli means to teach us stonemasonry!” Meriadoc supplied, excitement brimming on his features.

“Though I have noticed the Ladies are acting somewhat distracted,” said Legolas. “I wonder if they are up for the task after all, or maybe they would rather stay here and admire the views that the Citadel offers on this fine day.”

Faramir suddenly felt very self-aware. He suspected he was blushing at least as strongly as Lothiriel. Luckily, Lady Eowyn did not seem to mind, or even notice. She appeared to have forgotten his face was up here and not down there. Ah, well. A gentleman must make allowances for the sake of ladies.

Boromir looked suspiciously pleased with himself. He stood up, took off his wet surcote and shook the water off like a giant dog might, splashing on both Faramir and Eomer.

“Pardon our indecent state, Ladies,” Boromir said then, jovially. “I think we should all go and help with the renovations today. Many houses have suffered during the siege and I, for one, am impatient to start rebuilding.”

“A worthy cause! One I’d be glad to join once I get the chance to change into something dry,” said Eomer, who had just managed to get up, after a few mishaps. He put his mighty arms to use and wrung out his soaked shirt. Faramir was sure he heard Lothiriel actually squeal.

“I don’t know that you should,” said the Perian, who seemed bent on making the situation as awkward as possible. “We would get more crowd engagement with you three coming as you are.”

To this, Legolas snickered with malicious glee.

“It could do wonders for the population’s morale, true,” the Elf mused. “Alas! We’d get plenty of volunteers, but very little actual work done, I expect.”

✦ BONUS: ✦

“Gondor is beautiful at this time of the year, is it not, my Queen?” said Aragorn.

He was meant to be reviewing the list of guests for his Coronation, but got distracted by Arwen’s movements about his new office. Something outside had caught her attention, apparently, for she’d spent a good while gawking through the window. And his beautiful Undomiel, ever graceful and unperturbed, could only very rarely be caught gawking, and only in private. He had to assume she was not immune to the splendour of the White City, and he was well pleased that she approved of her new domain.

“Pardon?” she startled, and a faint blush tinged her alabaster cheek. “Oh, yes. The nature is in full bloom. But, I am not your Queen. Not yet, at least,” she said, and smiled a very secretive, private smile.

Aragorn suspected a hundred years would pass before he’d learn to decipher all the subtleties of her expression. He was content to just admire them, for now.

[MY WRITING MASTERPOST]

#lord of the rings fanfiction #faramir #boromir #eomer #farawyn #lothiriel #eowyn #lotr fanfiction #ass deep in demons #[arda]

157 notes · View notes

thekingofwinterblog · 3 months

Text

Tolkien's crowns.

You know something that really annoys me about the Tolkien movie adaptions?

Crowns.

Like a lot of things Jackson did, he basically crafted something completely new out of the bare bones we get from some descriptions, for better or worse, but the Crowns are another matter, because not only did Tolkien give very clear descriptions, and even drew the two most notable ones(the crowns of the dwarves and gondor)that appeared over the course of Lotr and the Hobbit, both had very, very clear cut meanings and symbolism behind them, that tied them to their real life origins.

The crowns of the dwarves of Erebor and Moria look like someone took their helmets and filed down the sides so only the skeleton remained, to varying degrees of success.

But you know what tolkien used?

In the books, Tolkien's dwarves uses crowns speciffically modeled after the crown of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire.

Why?

Well if you know anything about said empire, and the actual inspiration for Tolkien's dwarves, the picture is a bit clearer.

See Tolkien specifically modeled his dwarfs, their history of losing a homeland, desire for a new one, and their proud, industrious culture of craftsmen and skills of making money on a mixture between the Norse mythical dwarves, and the Jews in the long centuries after the Romans kicked them out of their original homeland.

Now with this in mind, Tolkien choosing to model the Dwarves crown on the Austrian one is him specifficaly choosing a real, Germanic crown as the inspiration... As well as a nod to the fact that the Austria-Hungarian empire was legendary for his time(The time Tolkien grew up in) as a progressive haven for jews, probably the best in Europe.

An empire, that was also destroyed by fires of war, just Moria and Erebor.

In other words, there is so much symbolism here that is completely and totally stripped away by the helmet crowns the movies gave them.

Hell, even the original hobbit animated movie got this right, while Jackson did not, as they basically just made the crown the austrian one, just a bit more exagerated.

Meanwhile, there is the crown of gondor, which completely missed absolutely everything tolkien tried to do with the Gondor crown.

It's a crown that fits perfectly with the rest of the city, this is truly a crown of the Gondor that the movies portrayed.

Meanwhile, Tolkiens Winged silver crown... Does not.

Even within the context of the fact that the books gondor is an early medieval(as it does not have plate armor at all) styled kingdom in terms of armor and clothing design, the crown does NOT fit in the slightest.

And that's the point.

The original crown of Gondor was a simple war Helm of the day that Elendil wore, and the later one that Aragorn wore was a more fancy replica of that helmet.

It is outdated by thousands of years, a relic of an elder time that was long lost even when Gondor's lost it's Kings in the first place. It's not supposed to fit in.

Also the fact that Elendil wore this, and it was considered just fine, tells us a lot about Gondor's fashion and style of arms during the closing days of the second age.

However, then we get into the deeper meaning behind the crown and where it was inspired from.

Gondor's winged crown was very deliberately inspired and based on the crowns of ancienct egypt, which was one of the main inspirations for Gondor and(to a lesser extent) arnor.

Just like Egyot there were two kingdom, an upper and a lower one, though in middle earth it was instead called the northern and southern ones.

Just like egypt, Gondor's entire socity and political and economic strength was based around their massive river that ran through the realm.

Just like Egypt, one of the biggest problems the gondorian elites had was their obsession with grand mousoleums and graves for their elites, focusing far more on the dead rather than their living children, and wasting who knows how much coin, manpower, energy and resources on such rather than just burying them in thr ground.

Basically the same problem egypt had building stupidly expensive superstructures for their dead in the form of pyramids, rather than something actually useful.

Then there is the fact that just like how lower and upper egypt combined their regalia together(as in they fused the two crowns into one, bigger one), Aragorn very deliberately made the royal regalia of the reunited Kingship BOTH his ancient and out of place winged crown, and the Silver scepter of Annuminas, the royal symbol of Arnor, combining the two of them together into one office.

#j r r tolkien #tolkien's legendarium #peter jackson #lord of the rings #the hobbit #crowns #meta #austria hungary #egypt #symbolism #gondor #arnor #khazad dum

75 notes · View notes

autistook · 2 months

Text

Happy New Year Gondorians!!!

#lotr #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #lotr gifs #lotr gif #lotr merry #merry brandybuck #Meriadoc Brandybuck

66 notes · View notes

from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 7 months

Text

Can Éomer read???

The text of LOTR suggests the answer is no (Aragorn says in Two Towers that the Rohirrim are strictly an oral tradition society) but, if you’ve seen my latest fic, you know that my personal answer is yes. Here’s why:

Éomer’s grandfather lived in Gondor for years, married a Gondorian woman, and had his children there before returning to Rohan to serve as king. Since Gondor is a highly literate society, I think it’s extremely likely that those children, Théoden and Théodwyn, would have been taught to read and write, and they would have passed that on to their own children, Théodred, Éomer and Éowyn.

I also think it’s highly likely that the ruling family of any large kingdom would put some priority on basic literacy if only for the practicality of communicating across long distances. It would be significantly harder to transmit and receive effective messages to/from your (literate) allies in other lands if every single word and detail of each message had to be memorized and recited back. Heck, it would be much harder even to communicate back and forth with detailed updates and news between Edoras and other parts of Rohan! So reading and writing in Westron for the leadership, at least, seems like an expediency that would probably have been recognized even if the main Rohirric culture remains based on oral traditions only.

All of which is why, in my head canon, Éomer is literate. That doesn’t mean I think he relaxes with a novel on a rainy Saturday or even that he’s an especially *good* reader—I think he knows the fundamentals but he might be tripped up by long or unfamiliar words, and if he read out loud he would still have that kind of hesitant cadence that we hear in younger readers. But he definitely *can* read that battlefield intel report or (much more importantly!) write a sweet love note when needed!

#eomer #eomer eadig #lotr #lord of the rings #fan fiction #headcanon #eomer can read!#everyone loves a reader

75 notes · View notes

tathrin · 2 months

Text

Okay but the Dunedáin. They've been roaming the western wilds for years and years. And then Aragorn goes off and gets himself made king of Gondor, huzzah ring the bells sound the trumpets etc.

But.

The Dunedáin. Do they all go to Gondor with him? I feel like that's the implication of things. But like...do they all want to? And if/when they do, how does it go?

(There has to be a significantly higher number of them than the 30 we see represented by the Grey Company, too, right? Like even assuming the addition of wives-elders-and-children to those numbers, there has to be a much larger population than that if they're maintaining a population. Even with intermarrying of the other locals. Like, even with Magical Noble Lineage going on to keep things from getting wonky, they can't be interbreeding that much or else everybody would be an Heir To The Throne Of Gondor by now lmao. Those 30 have to just be a fraction of their folk. The "good riders and good warriors who could be gathered on quick notice" fraction.)

Is everybody excited to leave their lowkey wilderness-with-the-occasional-vacation-in-Rivendell existence in favor of the Fancy Shiny White City Full Of Other Humans? The Dunedáin have been living like this for hundreds and hundreds of years. It's not just a "we spent a few decades in exile, but taught our kids Our Ways to preserve them, so they'd be comfortable when they went home" situation. They've been living like this for so long that this is their way of life. This is their home. And now they're supposed to just pack-up and go to Gondor and be fine?

And how do the Gondorians react to having not just a new king, but a new king who brings along a whole bunch of scruffy Rangers for his retinue? Are they welcomed eagerly by a people who've just endured great loss of life and need hands to help them rebuild? I mean tbf probably at first, sure; but how long does that welcome endure without starting to cool when these Rangers prove to be not just Gondorians From Elsewhere Who Nonetheless Act Just Like The Rest Of Us And Know Our City And Its Ways As Well As We Do? Because they don't! They don't even know which hall is used for banquets and which for dancing! They don't know that on Aldëa we wear carnë! and so on.

(Do they all just go to Ithilien with Faramir out of sheer what-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do-in-this-bigass-city-ness?)

Yes they're all of the Blood of Westernesse and all that, shared Numenorian heritage blah blah blah...but imagine you've been living off-the-grid in the forests of Pennsylvania, and all of a sudden you're dropped in the middle of NYC and told this is your home now, enjoy? How weird would that be? How bizarre, how overwhelming?

Maybe you like it, maybe you thrive there! Maybe you find that Gondorian Civilization is what you've been looking for all along! But what if you don't? What if you find you really hate crowds, and the politics of the city are stifling, and you didn't spend the last seventy years travelling all over Middle-earth learning everybody's ways and culture, thanks, and frankly you'd rather be back in Bree making small-talk with simple farmers and Hobbits, where everybody knows your (nick)name and you're comfortable? Even if you do like it, even if this is All Your Hopes Come True, it's still got to be enormously disruptive. And if you don't...yikes.

(Again, sure, there's Ithilien. But even though that wild-land-recovering-from-the-scars-of-the-Enemy would be more familiar ground to you than the city itself, and Faramir is a great guy and all, Ithilien still isn't your home.)

Like...you don't get to just go back, do you? (Do you?) Maybe but even if you do, even if some of them did, their way of life is still kind of broken; because most of your fellow Rangers are in Gondor now, and you aren't even allowed into the Shire, and the Enemy you've been guarding folks from all this time is gone...

And sure, it's good! This is a good result! This is the Best Case Scenario Ending, really!

But still. What about the Dunedáin?

#things i should probably not drop into my queue when i'm sleep deprived and braindead #but who wants to bet that when i finish writing this i go on habit instead of intention and hit ''queue'' instead of ''save as draft''?#because i may be exhausted and braindead but i'm not so much so that i would take that bet i KNOW i'm forgetting to draft instead of queue #know thyself and all that hmm? yeah #anyway #lotr meta #lotr #dunedain #aragorn #gondor

51 notes · View notes

spinningalbinoturtle · 9 months

Text

Where Lotr characters would go on holiday

Aragorn and Arwen

As king and queen of Gondor they are pretty busy and don’t have many opportunities to go on personal vacations mostly it is just official trips to other kingdoms. However when they can get a trip of their own they go to Rivendell and Arwen hangs with her brothers while Aragorn takes off into the woods for a week and talks to no one except the animals. He comes back looking super happy and relaxed

Legolas and Gimli

The glittering caves and Fangorn forest obvs. They take turns also love how this is actually canon I don’t even have to make it up. They do take turns visiting their families and this always awkward cause Thranduil doesn’t care for Gimli and Gloin absolutely HATES Legolas.

Sam and Frodo

They have had quiet enough of traveling and Frodo has a hard time walking long distances so they really don’t do many vacations but they usually go to Rivendell in the fall for Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday and so Frodo can have better medical care for his anniversary illness. Every few years they’ll also do a big trip to visit friends in Gondor or the Lonely Mountain.

Merry

Merry takes every opportunity he can to visit Rohan, he goes at least once a year. Once he realizes Eowyn is living in Ithilien he also makes sure to visit there as well

Pippin

Pippin likewise loves to visit Gondor he usually will go on a wild party night when he is there. He keeps trying to sleep with a Gondorian noblewoman but his attempts are always failed-poor Pippin

Eowyn and Faramir

They like to go on trips to other countries like Harad or the eastern lands. They both like to try new foods and immerse themselves in different cultures and languages. They’ll also do closer to home horse camping trips for the weekend.

#lotr #frodo baggins #eowyn #sam gamgee #aragorn #merry brandybuck #faramir #pippin took #arwen undomiel #legolas #gimli #legolas/gimli #samfrodo #samfro

98 notes · View notes

periantari · 2 months

Text

In honor of Gondorian New Year yesterday

Faramir and Eowyn wondered at the new sign, but believed it to be a sign of good- that the Captains of the West had fulfilled their mission in the impossible way. The Ring-bearer had succeeded. And amidst sonorous song that rang through the city, the Great Eagle flew by bearing tidings of hope, and Faramir knew in his heart that Frodo had managed past the Dark Lord to fulfill his Quest. He did not know it but his face was wet from tears and he saw that Eowyn also had tears of joy gathered in her eyes. So many tension filled nights of discussing the Great Wave and Gondor succumbing had now abated.

All of Gondor was alight with song and hope. Faramir and Eowyn continued to embrace each other and Merry and Bergil joined them and laughed and had signs of relief. Their loved ones may yet make it. Merry could not wait to be reunited with his kin. It had been too long had he not seen them, and he hoped with all his heart that they were all right. Bergil hoped his father would return from the Black Gate- he was all he had and he needed him to return back alive.

Eowyn still held onto Faramir and she saw that his face was kind and throughout the days at the Houses of Healing had felt even more unexplained attachment and trust building. This was a man whom she can trust and she had seldom met a man of quality like this one.

Faramir could feel his initial heaviness lifted if not only a while, but he felt hope for the New Age even though his losses still hung in his consciousness. This Lady of Rohan was light and he believed hard as it may be– that he was meant to guide Gondor with the New King into the New Age.

#fanfic #lotr #tolkien #love #faramir #lord of the rings #eowyn #hobbits #drabble

20 notes · View notes

themoonlily · 4 months

Text

saunas in Rohan, is that anything?

Rohirrim did originally live much further north, before they settled in Calenardhon, so it bears thinking that saunas could have been a part of surviving the presumably longer and harsher winters of their earlier home region. Maybe saunas could be a specifically Northman thing to do (Laketown and Dale might also have saunas). If so, they might have brought the sauna tradition with them to their new home country.

The famous turf saunas of Edoras. The ongoing debate about the traditional saunas against the smoke saunas of East-Mark, or the more experimental cave saunas at the Hornburg.

The Riders of the Muster of Rohan building a makeshift sauna somewhere near the walls of Minas Tirith after the most debris of battle has been cleared out. Locals come and boggle at it (and the sweaty but happy Rohirrim coming in and out of the sauna).

The incredulity of Gondorians at the face of this tradition - and their astonishment when their revered King Elessar himself is heard praising the virtues of bathing in a sauna after a long windy day on the plains.

Éomer spending at least a year after their marriage persuading Lothíriel to try it, which she eventually does, and is an instant convert. Her adding to the sauna culture by developing the Middle-earth equivalent of spa experience.

Éowyn building a sauna at Emyn Arnen and causing a sensation, but on the other hand, she's the Slayer of the Witch-king and can do whatever she wants.

#lotr crack #kind of because I'm at least half-serious #:D #Rohirrim #Rohan #text

24 notes · View notes

buggreawlthys · 2 months

Text

HAPPY GONDORIAN NEW YEAR EVERYONE

#🎉🎇🎆🌋❤️‍🔥 (the burning heart is gollum in the lava)#lotr newsletter #party like it's 3022TA #hny3022

18 notes · View notes

fili-urzudel · 2 months

Text

Moving Forward

Guys the musical I was in opened and closed this weekend!! (I was in a musical that's why I've been so busy lol)

I'm going to have marginally more time in the coming weeks, so

Requests and the Fifty-Follower Celebration are still open! But for the sake! Of Content! Have a list of some of the fics I have in the works and vote on which one sounds most interesting to you. Keep in mind that longer works will take, well, longer.

As I move into adult life, I don't know how much time I can really dedicate to this blog, but it's always worth trying.

Scion - Thorin Oakenshield x OC. The yet unnamed female OC is the last able-bodied adult in a family that has been sworn to the Durins for hundreds of years to protect their line. After fighting to be included in the quest, she eventually discovers that her devotion to Thorin likely goes beyond mere duty. More than likely a multi-chapter fic.

Saturday Sun - Fili Durin x OC/Reader. At the request of Thorin, Fili goes to a Gondorian town near the sea to get away from the pressures of life as royalty under the mountain. He apprentices under and eventually ends up teaching the local blacksmith, staying at an inn. Three weeks before he must return to Erebor, he strikes up an electric friendship with a new guest. 1-2 Parts.

Empress - Fili Durin OR Kili Durin x OC/Reader. One of the Durin brothers spends so much time doubting himself that he misses his chance with the love of his life. He realizes his mistake moments before entering an arranged marriage. Probably just 1 part.

To Be Broken - Thorin Oakenshield OR Fili Durin x OC/Reader. Before leaving for the quest, he swears to his partner/wife to return and to make a better life in Erebor with them. She admonishes him to not make promises he can't keep. Probably 1 part with possibly a post-BotFA follow-up.

Grown-up - Romantic or platonic Bilbo Baggins x Reader. At the beginning of the Unexpected Journey, the reader finds it hard to remember that Bilbo is not, in fact, a child. Either 1 part or a series of shorter parts.

#lotr #lotr fandom #lotr fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #bilbo x reader

11 notes · View notes

mimilind · 1 year

Photo

The Librarian and the Elvenking - Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 2100

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

♕ ✧ ♕

1. The Anonymous Borrower

When your carriage rolled into Dale for the first time, you were struck with how quaint the town was. Nestled in a bend of the river, it had narrow, winding streets and stone houses with slate roofs. Columns of smoke rose from its many chimneys, and a bustle of humans crowded the streets.

Strider’s hoofs clopped merrily on the stone pavement and the wagon wheels squeaked. After many days on the road, you looked forward to a pleasant supper and a warm bed for the night.

Unsurprisingly, everyone gawked at you when you passed them by. It was always like this when you arrived at a new place; you were an elf with a mobile library in a city of men, of course you would draw attention. But you knew they would get used to you after a few days and return to business as usual, with your service as a – hopefully – pleasant addition in their lives.

You had started your library service roughly thirty years ago, after the War of the Ring, and by now you had been in many human cities. You never stayed for long; as soon as you found someone there willing to copy the books and create a more permanent establishment you would move to a new place. As a result, there were now libraries in several towns, both in Breeland, Rohan and the new Brownland settlements – and today the time had come to Dale. You had only left Gondor alone, for there the new king had built libraries of his own.

It was a lonely life; that was the only downside of being a mobile librarian, but the joy you brought to remote settlements made it worthwhile. And in all honesty, you had never had many friends back home in Imladris anyway.

In the morning you set up your stall in the town square, exposing some of your more popular volumes in stands in front of the carriage, and beside them a sign explaining how it worked. Soon a curious crowd gathered around you, looking at titles, skimming pages and – a few – signing up to become borrowers.

From experience, you knew the first few days would be slow, with people mostly looking, but when some of the more daring had tried your library it would spread like ripples in the water. By the end of the month you would probably have gained a large number of regular customers.

You were just taking a quick lunch in your carriage when three elves walked by. They were the first of your race you had seen in Dale, which was a largely human town with the occasional dwarf resident. Judging by their clothes, these were Wood-elves; garbed in the greens and browns of the forest as was their habit.

The elves regarded your mobile library with curiosity, mumbling among themselves. Then the taller of them, a silver blonde ellon, sidled up to one of your stands and picked up a book.

You put your meal aside and stepped out, whereupon he jumped in surprise and nearly dropped the volume.

”Oh, I see you have discovered ‘The Principles of Lust,’” you said. ”It’s my only Haradrim work; very popular with the married couples. Shall I sign you up on my borrower list?”

The ellon’s pale cheeks had become bright red, and he quickly put the book back. ”I don’t think my wife likes that sort of thing.”

”Such a shame. Hm. Maybe she would enjoy a book of fables? The Gondorian ladies adore them. This was written by Lady Finduilas, who was the wife of the former steward in Minas Tirith.” You picked up a colorful booklet.

”What are fables?” The ellon seemed almost reluctantly interested.

“Short stories with talking animals as the main characters, where the reader learns valuable lessons of life – such as not coveting what others have, or judging a book by its cover.” You chuckled. “Pun not intended.”

His lips quirked up at first, but he smothered it before his features had progressed into an actual smile. “It seems risky; lending books like that. What do you do if someone just keeps them? Humans are not very trustworthy.”

“Well, as you can read on this sign here, borrowers leave their name, address and a security deposit, which will be repaid once they return the volume. The deposit can be money or something of equal value. Jewellery is fine too.” You nodded at his fingers, where several elaborate rings gleamed.

The elf hid his hands behind his back. “I see.”

“I have lost a few books, but mostly by accident. One girl dropped a book in the bathtub, and I get the occasional ripped page – but I have several copies of each volume, and I brought material for repairing them if needed.”

“All this sounds like a lot of trouble. What’s in it for you?” The elf frowned. He had the most formidable eyebrows you had ever seen. Very expressive.

“Well, mostly I just wanted to give the humans some hope and joy after the war, and what better way is there than bringing them stories? As elves, we have time to hear and learn all the tales of old, but a human who lives perhaps eighty years at most is not so fortunate.”

“How altruistic.”

“Isn’t it?” You gave him a dazzling smile, pretending he had meant it as a compliment. “So, shall I sign you up? And perhaps your friends there as well?” You indicated his silent companions who had stayed some yards away. They reminded you of guards; alert and watchful, but they carried no visible weapons.

“Just I.”

The ellon produced a silver dollar as a deposit, and writing in an elegant, yet masculine Tengwar he swiftly filled in the form you gave him.

When you received it, you could not hold back a chuckle. “Your name is Ú-eneth?”

“I am known by that name in this town.” He frowned slightly again.

“Right. Well, Master No Name, welcome as a borrower. I wish you much enjoyment!” You took his hand and shook it.

Ú-eneth’s reaction to your simple gesture surprised you; he flinched visibly and stared at your hand like he had never seen one before.

“Sorry! I must have spent too much time with the humans.” Smiling apologetically, you moved your hand to your chest and bowed in an elvish greeting instead.

“No need,” he mumbled, but still looked bewildered.

You gave him a cloth bag. “Here is that fable book for your wife. Do you want something for yourself as well? You look like a warrior with those wide shoulders; perhaps I can tempt you with ‘The War of the Last Alliance - a Recount,’ by Meneldil of Gondor?”

His cheeks paled. “No thank you,” he choked.

“My goodness. You fought in it, didn’t you?” You gave him a sympathetic look and pressed his shoulder comfortingly. “Sorry if I brought up painful memories.”

Again your touch seemed to unnerve Ú-eneth. “I have to go.” He left rather hurriedly with his companions in tow.

You looked long after the disappearing trio. When walking, it became even more obvious that they were trained warriors; they moved with that certain confidence and grace obtained by long hours of sparring. And of course their exceptionally fit bodies were a giveaway.

♕ ✧ ♕

About a month later Ú-eneth came to return your book. Like before, his company remained at a distance.

“Welcome back!” you greeted him heartily, shaking his hand without thinking. Now, however, he seemed to expect it and actually shook back.

You noticed pale patches on his fingers where he had worn rings the last time. Why had he taken them off? Was he hiding something?

“It was an interesting read,” he said.

“Glad you found it so. I put aside some other books with you in mind.” You took a large, leather bound tome and two smaller hardbacks from a shelf. “Do you like action-adventure stories? This is Rohirric; ‘Tales of Heroes and Dragonesse,’ by Fram Frumgarsson. Human youngsters enjoy it a lot.”

“I am not particularly fond of dragon stories. And I am no youngster.”

“Didn’t say you were.” You gave him a disarming smile. If he had fought in the War of the Last Alliance he must be well over three millennia old.

Ú-eneth took one of the smaller volumes and read the title: “‘The Children of Húrin – a History.’ That Húrin? From the First Age?”

“Aye. It’s based on the man’s tragic life, and carefully recorded by Erestor of Imladris…”

“Huh. That old bore.”

“... who is my uncle.” You smirked at the look on his face.

“I’ll take it,” he said hurriedly.

“He also put down the tale of Beren and Lúthien, if that could interest you?”

“Why not.”

So, he liked romantic tragedies. You stored the information for future use.

Packing his books, you asked conversationally: “What brings three elves to Dale, then? I was told none of our race live here.”

“Business. I purchase wine for… Uh, the king.”

“Elvenking Thranduil? I’ve heard of him.” You gave him the book bag. “Quite a scary fellow, is he not? At least the Daleans think so.”

“To mortals all elves are frightening,” he huffed dismissively.

“I’m not.” You shrugged.

“But you are an unusual elf.”

“Am I? Maybe.” Perhaps you were a bit different, especially since you spent so much time around humans. But you had no time to ponder it, for your most avid readers had come; Liv and Ylva, two teenage human sisters. They stopped at a respectful distance to Ú-eneth, gawking at him with large eyes.

You glanced at the object of their admiration and understood them. He was handsome even for an elf; to human eyes he must be absolutely stunning. Tall, muscular and elegant, even in his simple, unadorned tunic.

“I have to attend to the girls now, but it was good seeing you again.” You pressed Ú-eneth’s arm in a friendly manner, telling yourself it was a nice gesture and not at all because you liked how strong it felt. “Welcome back at any time.”

His eyes darted to your hand on his arm, and then met yours. “Aye. I will be back.”

Something in his expression puzzled you. This time he didn't flinch from your touch, but he seemed extremely conscious about it. Almost as if he had never been touched before, which was odd for a married ellon – he must have touched his wife at least once on the wedding night – and very intimately too, if the Haradrim book was correct about such matters.

Maybe they didn't live together? That could explain why he seemed so lonely. You felt sorry for him; it must be horrible to have nobody to hug.

Well, actually, you knew it was horrible. So much so, that you had to resort to hugging Strider, your horse, and some of your customers.

When Ú-eneth had left, Liv and Ylva came closer, and you greeted them with a warm hug each.

“You know him?” asked Ylva in an awed voice after you had released her.

“A little.” You smiled at the besotted look on her face. “Ú-eneth is one of my borrowers.”

“He’s amazing,” said Liv dreamily. “Ú-eneth… It’s beautiful. I love his name too.”

“It can’t be his real one,” said Ylva. “It means ‘no name’ in Sindarin, right?”

“Dunno. I hate the Sindarin lessons.” Liv giggled. “But if he’s not telling his real name, then that’s even more romantic! It’s like in ‘The Children of Húrin’ when Túrin comes to Nargothrond and Finduilas calls him Thurin because he’s so secretive.”

“Ah, yes.” Ylva sighed lustfully. “The way he named himself ‘The Wronged.’ So tragic. I love him!”

“I love both Beren, Túrin and Glorfindel. And now Ú-eneth too.”

“That reminds me…” You held up a shining new book. “I just finished making a third copy of Glorfindel’s autobiography, so you can borrow it now.”

“Thank you! Thankyou thankyou thankyou.” Liv pressed the book to her bosom and made a piruet. Then she stopped dead. “What if Ú-eneth is Glorfindel in disguise?”

Ylva gasped. “He could be!”

You chuckled. “Sorry to burst your bubble. I know Glorfindel, and Ú-eneth is not him.”

“I’m so jealous of you. You have met Glorfindel, and Elrond, and even Elessar of Gondor!” Ylva sighed.

“If you do all your lessons, then maybe you can study at the Imladris University in the future and meet some of them yourself,” you said encouragingly. “But then you must do your Sindarin homework.”

“We will! We’ll study real hard.” The girls beamed at you.

♕ ✧ ♕

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #Thranduil #lee pace #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #touch starved #the Librarian and the Elvenking

116 notes · View notes