#i should make a faramir one too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edges-of-night · 10 months

Text

Imagine where your first kiss with LotR characters would be ♡

Thank you for all your positive responses to my first post! I hope you’ll enjoy this one as well, it was a lot of fun to write!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would make your first kiss absolutely romantic. He would take you to a moonlit spot he found in the forest, where you’d listen to a brook and the night birds as he holds your hand. Aragorn kisses you without expecting or demanding anything in return. He is content as long as he can be with you!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would playfully guide you to her favourite tower in Rivendell by your hand. She’d smile brightly over her shoulder as you ascend the artful staircase to be closer to the night sky. She’d stargaze with you there, maybe show you a book or two about the Elvish constellations that she keeps up there. You would kiss over such a book, or maybe against the white balustrade.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is well aware of his charms. When it comes to your first kiss, he teases and plays with you. However, once you share a quiet moment in the ruins of Osgiliath, he gives in to your advances. Leaning against a stone column, the usually shameless man grows silent against the comforting touch you provide.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond keeps his house very orderly. He takes it upon himself to sort the library, for example. Since you offered to help him, you have been working all afternoon. “This is the rest,” you’d say with a tired smile and a sigh as you set back the last books. Charmed by your blush of exhaustion in the golden sunlight, Elrond would smooth your hair back and lean in for a thank you kiss.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer would kiss you in the wide grasslands of the Riddermark. Your horseback ride has been interrupted by a sudden storm – the weather here is erratic – forcing you to find shelter in a rock formation. There, Éomer would make sure that you’re alright and dry, and as you’d touch, his heart would skip a beat at your damp hair and puffed lips. Being the man that he is, he’d kiss you passionately then, however offering you to “keep this between us and the rain” should you desire so.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn loves the hills and cliffs of Edoras. There, she has a secret hiding spot where she used to play as a kid. Now, she uses it for romantic rendezvous’, as she tells you with a smirk. You joke around a bit: “So, I’m your romantic tryst?” – “Perhaps you are!” – before you both lean in for a playful kiss that soon turns into something more romantic, truly.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

If it was up to Faramir, he’d kiss you anywhere – on the market in Minas Tirith, in the forests of Ithilien, or his castle after the Ring War. However, he couldn’t have chosen a better place than you: a flowery meadow where you sat down with drinks and books to tell each other fantastical stories about magic and dragons. While you lie in his arms, all you need to do is look up to find that Faramir wasn’t even reading the book you held up and instead just admired you. And then, cupping his cheek and gently guiding him toward you is just too tempting!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would kiss you in front of your house in Hobbiton, having accompanied you home after a party at the Green Dragon. He’s a gentleman, so he’d always offer to walk home together. Maybe you’re both a bit tipsy, but either way, you end up leaning against a quiet corner of your house, hidden away in the night shadows, where you share a kiss that Frodo blissfully smiles into.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would know you’d want to kiss her even before you yourself were really aware of it. One day, while sitting by a brook near her abode in Lothlórien, she’d grin at you because she knows very well the reason for your blush. She’d offer you to sit by her side, or maybe even on her lap, and converse with you before brushing your hair out of your face to finally give you that kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would finally kiss you after a long day of studying. You’ve been sitting in Minas Tirith’s library for hours, pondering ancient magic and recent developments. Once you call it a day, he’d look up and smile at you, like he just remembered something. Then he’d wish you goodnight. “But first…” You’d be lying if you said you haven’t seen it coming from a mile away, but of course you let him have his joy anyway!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

While usually brash and charming, Gimli is all quiet when it comes to asking you for a kiss while staying in your home. If he was wearing his helmet, he’d take it off, needless to say! You know he meant it to be a chaste forehead kiss, but you like to give your Dwarf a kiss worthy of a song – one that renders him speechless for at least a day. He’d definitely stumble over the doorstep on his way out!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

It is needless to say that Haldir would deny any desire to share a kiss with you until the very last second. After protecting the borders of Lothlórien from orcs, he is badly wounded and in dire need of your healing skills. Though he is ashamed of the vulnerability, he cannot help but marvel at your beauty and compassion while you’re immersed in your task. He’d guise the kiss he gives you in the moonlight as a shameful repayment, but by now you can read his marble face so well that you know better!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would kiss you swiftly and lightly, like sunshine does when you step outside on a summer morning. Out in Mirkwood, he’d swirl around you like a butterfly to keep your fears away. You’d heard stories about the dark forest, but he knows just how to keep your mind off of it. “There,” he’d smile after your kiss, just shakily enough for you to realise he means this seriously after all, “the fear is gone.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would make a pompous scene out of kissing you. He’d announce it loudly, standing on a table in the Green Dragon. He’d get a blast out of your reaction, whether you’re blushing in embarrassment or laughing brightly at his joy. When he does join you by your chair and pecks your flushing face, the crowd cheers you on!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would kiss you on a festive night. You’d run through the strawberry fields all night, always hunting the colourful fireworks sent by Gandalf from the hills above. After you break down beneath a tree, laughing and exhausted, Pippin would exclaim something like, “I could kiss you right now!” and quickly lean in.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam keeps a mental list of things he’d like to say to you someday. However, he’s so insecure he doesn’t even dream he’d ever get the chance. But when you’re sitting in the shadows of the sunflower field on a bright summer day, he’d want to seize that opportunity and babble in his adorably timid but sincere manner. But, being embarrassed by his own fumbling, he’d eventually go, “Maybe I oughtta kiss you instead, y’know?” Far be it from you to object!

2K notes · View notes

anghraine · 3 months

Text

On the one hand, I absolutely love the high tragedy of Denethor's arc in the book, think it's amazingly well-written, and that he is one of the most complex and fascinating characters that Tolkien ever wrote.

On the other, there's part of me that's also a little frustrated by how much it has to happen because Tolkien kind of wrote himself into a corner with the Ruling Stewards. He's insistent on a few things about them:

Their initial rise to power as perma-regents of Gondor was squeaky-clean. Mardil was a paragon of virtue, he tried to prevent Eärnur from getting himself killed, there were no clear successors, and retaining the regency prevented another Kinstrife and created a stable institution that would hold Gondor together for 900+ years after the failure of the kings.

They are a high Númenórean family descended from Elendil, even if they're not formally of the line of Elendil (for unknown reasons, but most likely because they're descended through women).

Denethor is notably very similar to Aragorn, in intellect, wisdom, stature, ability, even appearance. He is a towering and respected figure, and he and his sons are highly popular with their people (even with children).

Denethor's military tactics in the book are very good, and UT says Sauron hoped Denethor would be less prepared than he actually was.

Denethor is proud, unbending, and personally dislikes and distrusts Aragorn. He thinks Gandalf is using him against Sauron for now while planning for Aragorn to take power later (this is filtered through his pride but ... um, is he wrong?).

Faramir, now Denethor's last heir, is a fantastic if reluctant warrior and captain, a super special Númenórean throwback, and a thoughtful, intelligent, and wise person who is humbler than Denethor, but also established as wary about Aragorn.

Gondor formally rejected the claim of Aragorn's family before the Ruling Stewardship even existed.

What all this means is that Denethor, if alive, is someone who will never willingly give way to Aragorn. Denethor has legal precedent on his side, he is himself a perfectly good ruler from a long-standing, stable, legitimate ruling family and a highly capable military leader in war, he is liked by his people, and he even has a viable heir regardless of the personal strain between him and Faramir.

There's just no reason for Aragorn to take power that Denethor, as written, would find remotely persuasive. But Denethor is also too noble and capable and special for a power grab on Aragorn's side to feel right, esp given how destructive it would be in the middle of a war (as Aragorn acknowledges!). Despite the sparkly kingliness and mystical airs, this is fundamentally a dynastic dispute between two different houses descended from Elendil, based on the minutia of Gondorian and Númenórean law and precedent, and a fight over that is ... not the kind of story this is.

Denethor has to be driven to self-destruction by the plot so that Aragorn's rise can happen. It simply would not occur if Denethor was alive and in his right mind. Faramir has to be mystically healed by Aragorn so that his reservations will dissolve and he will voluntarily remove himself from the picture in a way that doesn't feel bad.

And both scenes are fantastic, and make sense for the characters. But I do feel that they kind of get steamrollered by the plot to make way for Aragorn.

The thing that makes that doubly fascinating, though, is that Tolkien didn't have to prop the House of the Stewards up so thoroughly. He could have written a version where the Stewards are inadequate or really sketchy or simply can't be compared to Aragorn's greatness and it's clear why they should be replaced by him and his house. Tolkien could have made this a lot easier for himself! And I do respect the more difficult and nuanced approach Tolkien took with the Stewards by making them genuinely impressive and noble and capable in their own right and not just cardboard-cutouts for Aragorn to kick over.

But, well.

#anghraine babbles #long post #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #húrinionath #denethor #faramir #mardil voronwë #etc #ondonórë blogging

307 notes · View notes

wordbunch · 10 months

Text

how they care for you when you’re sick/injured but refuse to rest

a/n: requested by @tolkien-fantasy!! 💕 since i already did sth quite similar with Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin, this time I decided to include only the “big guys”, aka Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Éomer and Legolas. Also Fíli doesn't go here but I decided he will be here.☺️ I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts and opinions, and reblogs are always super appreciated!!!🥰🥰🥰

Aragorn: He is literally just like that, even if he’s unwell he will keep pushing, and that is exactly why he immediately notices you do it too, and decides to put a stop to it. As much as he is loving and supportive and always respects your opinions and wishes, he is not taking ‘no’ for an answer when he deems that you really need to rest and recover. Luckily for you, he’s a legendary healer, so you will probably get better relatively soon. If he’s able to give you 100% of his attention and time during your recovery, he will literally feed you if he needs to, just so that you don’t exhaust yourself even more. Also he will quickly hush you if you begin to protest and insist that you’re fine and really have things to do! Sorry, king’s orders! Not just that, he will most definitely have your favorite food made for you, so that you don’t have to lift a finger (even though you want to).

Boromir: You were both extremely busy on the day when Gondor was preparing for some big festival, and amid your errands you sprained your ankle, but you brushed it off because you wanted to personally oversee the flower arrangements. For the first and only time you were thankful not to see Boromir half the day because you knew he would make a small fuss about it immediately, so you limped on until you accidentally ended up tripping and stumbling backwards into a familiar strong chest. He looked at you suspiciously while you attempted to just brush it off as being clumsy, but he thought you looked a little bit pale and was not convinced. Before you could keep convincing him, he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed, having seen right through your act. Sadly he couldn’t have stayed with you the whole time as there were still some things to prepare, but he ran to you as often as he could to check if you were still resting, and to attack you with a flurry of reassuring kisses. Later in the evening he will 100% cuddle you until you both fall asleep wrapped up in each other, and he has no trouble carrying you around for days so that you don’t have to put weight on your injured leg - he enjoys doing it!

Legolas: Injuries and illnesses are not exactly something he is very familiar with, but he knows enough to be aware that they require rest and recuperation! His senses are sharp and he notices if you wince one time, and he is there in an instant. He will ask you what is wrong, what you need, etc. As much as Legolas he understands your restlessness and the constant need to be up and about, he needs you to understand that he’s worried and doesn’t want your condition to get worse. If it’s something very serious, he will immediately call Aragorn for help, but if it’s something minor, he thinks he should be able to handle it and support you through it. Before you know it, you’re not allowed to do anything under his watchful gaze but you’re bored!! No problem, though, he is more than ready to entertain you in any way he can, even if it means he has to sing you all the elvish songs since the beginning of time (and you will make good use of his promise to do that!).

Éomer: Oh that is literally his BRAND because he’s out there being unstoppable even when something is wrong - and he is not letting his beloved be like that, not on his watch! He is also the type to carry you to bed despite your protests and you being like “I’m fine!” And he is like, alright then, but even if you’re fine, that doesn’t mean you can’t get some rest! No amount of your pouting is going to make him let up. Eventually when you finally admit you’re in pain, he will fuss over you a bit and he will literally try to cook something (he feels better when he can take action) and before you know it he’s making 4 different kinds of tea at the same time and things seem a bit chaotic… When you ask whether he’s sure he doesn’t need any help, he will insist that you just go and rest and that he has everything under control. Needless to say, you didn’t get to eat/drink everything that he started making cause he failed at many things, but you appreciate the love that went into it regardless!

Faramir: He can notice that something is off within like 0.3 seconds and multiple times throughout the day he will ask how you’re feeling and if something is wrong because he can sense that something is off, but he knows you well enough to know that you’d prefer to keep going on about your day, even when in pain. And then when you almost pass out you finally admit that you’re not feeling well, and you know he will immediately drop whatever else he is doing and just focus on you as much as he can until you’re perfectly recovered. More likely than not he is immediately looking for Aragorn because he is NOT taking any risks; although you try to reassure him that it might not be necessary. He knows how to be persistent and when he gives you puppy eyes with those gorgeous teal blue eyes… you have no choice but to let him do his thing.

Fíli: When it comes to you he is a very worried person and he likes to keep an eye on you as much as he can, so it doesn't take him long to become aware that you're acting...different. He is especially fussy if you get injured, and he will push everything and everyone else aside to nurse you back to health, and it literally becomes his number one priority. Fíli won''t hesitate to be even a little bit harsh if anyone comes to bother you or ask something of you before you're 100% recovered, so sometimes you gently reprimand him for it - you feel well enough to go and keep doing things! But good luck trying to convince him!

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @sillyvampireboi

847 notes · View notes

tathrin · 10 months

Text

So we talk about Third Wheel Aragorn a lot, and that’s good because he is one of the Classic Third Wheels Of All Time, and the period with the Three Hunters running around Middle-earth while two of them are falling head-over-heels for each other is just perfection. In fact, we should have more Third Wheel Aragorn stuff, because it’s frankly the best of his many (many) identities, imo.

But. We do not talk enough about Third Wheel Éomer and Faramir.

Because think about it! These two dudes were running Rohan and Ithilien when Gimli and Legolas were establishing their new dwarf and elf colonies. Which means that while Aragorn was busy being The Shiny New King Of Gondor, the Prince of Ithilien and King of Rohan (who yes was also busy being king, but surely had less Shit To Deal With because Rohan didn’t have a whole bunch of Huge Social And Practical Changes when Éomer got crowned like Gondor did, now did it?) took over management of his Two Idiot Friends In Love.

And depending on how long it took Legolas and Gimli to figure shit out...well. Just picture Éomer and Faramir meeting-up periodically to talk about political logistics and brother-in-law stuff...and eventually the conversation is going to turn to mutual friends, as it does. And one of them has this absurd poet dwarf running around waxing euphoric about pretty caves, and the other this weird half-feral tree-elf gremlin prancing around singing to the flowers. And both completely and absolutely obsessed with each other...and seemingly unaware of it. Would they commiserate? Absolutely. Would they try and wingman it? Ooh, probably. Would they somehow find a way to make things even more awkward, somehow? Almost definitely. And when Legolas and Gimli finally do get together, they can commiserate over that, too.

Just. You canNOT tell me that there isn’t bucket-loads of potential here for shenanigans and nonsense. And we need to see more of that, I think.

#eomer and gimli's bromance is one of my favorite oft-overlooked parts of lotr tbh #so i ESPECIALLY want to see more of that #but you can't tell me that faramir (and eowyn) getting involved wouldn't be great too #eomer #faramir #legolas #gimli #gimleaf #aragorn #third wheel aragorn is the best aragorn #lotr #third wheel eomer #third wheel faramir #lotr headanons #plot for sale i offer it to you freely

298 notes · View notes

novelmonger · 3 months

Text

Continuing to watch through the Writer/Director commentary of LotR (with Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens, and Fran Walsh) and jotting down any new-to-me information I come across. Here's what I gleaned from TTT:

When they got the New Line logo to put on the movies, it was very old and scratched, so PJ gave it to Weta to touch it up. They joked about how they should bill New Line for it XD

Originally, the studio wanted TTT to start off with a prologue too, with Cate Blanchett narrating what sounds like it was basically going to be a "Previously on..." spiel, even though they didn't like the idea of the prologue in the first one. Thankfully, these three ignored the studio's advice both times XD

The Uruk who says "Manflesh" is also the guy in Sauron's armor in the prologue!

In the scene where the Rohirrim find Theodred, it's not actually raining! They used rain towers for the close-ups, but any wide shots just have CG rain. I would never have guessed!

Andy Serkis did the voices for the Uruk-Hai who says the "maggoty bread" line, and the orc who says, "Yeah, why can't we have some meat?" (The actor in the suit for the latter is, of course, Jed Brophy, who went on to play Nori in the Hobbit movies.)

Somehow it never registered for me that Orlando Bloom has brown eyes, and so he had to wear blue contacts when he played Legolas ^^' But sometimes he wasn't able to wear the contacts (or forgot), so there are some scenes where they had to fix it in post.

PJ called the Treebeard from the animated Bakshi movie "a walking carrot" XD He also said that Treebeard is his favorite character!

The scene with Smeagol killing Deagol was originally going to be a flashback right after Frodo says his name, and then the Nazgul shriek would pull the audience out of the flashback. They decided not to do that for pacing reasons and because we haven't spent much time with Gollum yet, so that's why they put it at the beginning of RotK instead.

Bernard Hill had his son with him on the shoot and would play with him in his downtime on the Edoras set. Puts things into perspective when you hear that he was the one who came up with the line "No parent should have to bury their child."

They were originally looking at Bernard Hill for Gandalf! (I feel like I've probably heard this before, but anyway.)

They filmed a flashback to Aragorn and Arwen's first meeting?! Viggo shaved to make himself look younger, and it was a scene of the two of them "frolicking about the forest." It was originally going to be put in the Lothlorien sequence, but they cut it out in favor of that scene between Aragorn and Boromir, because they decided it was more important to earn Boromir's death scene than to remind the audience of the romance. I agree with that decision, but it would be cool to see that footage! (I say as someone who prefers to skip the TTT Aragorn/Arwen scene entirely XD)

Originally, the warg battle was going to happen at Edoras itself. It was going to be at night, everything was going to be on fire, and ultimately that was going to be the reason everyone evacuated and went to Helm's Deep. Also, a warg was going to be set on fire and end up dragging Aragorn through the streets, and that was going to be how Aragorn would be left for dead. Ultimately, the reason they did it the way they did was because the studio wasn't sure Weta could do a flaming warg (something all three of them laughed about, considering everything Weta did manage to do with flying colors), and because it would have been a nightmare to light the Edoras set at night, because that location was so remote and so windy. Which is why every scene in Edoras takes place in the daytime!

In the scene where Faramir talks about his dream where he saw Boromir in the boat, you can see a sort of pinkish color in the water around Boromir's body. That's because the dye from his shirt (surcoat? idk) was leaking out into the water! XD

When Andy Serkis did ADR for the Forbidden Pool scene, he couldn't manage to sing the song off-key, so they had to use the audio from the motion capture footage XD

They shot some additional footage of Aragorn unconscious on Brego's back, riding past an orc encampment, that they never ended up using.

Theoden was originally going to give a speech to the soldiers in the armory, but Bernard Hill's performance was so inspiring that it defused most of the tension they were trying to build up before the battle, so they took it out. Would love to see that footage!

So the boy Aragorn encourages before the battle ("There is always hope.") was Philippa Boyens' son, who was 13 when they filmed the scene. But by the time they went to do ADR, his voice had broken, so they had to get a different child actor to say his lines.

Aww, the extra who was missing an eye said he always felt self-conscious about his missing eye, so he always wore an eyepatch. But then after they gave him a close-up and the guy saw the movie, he said he felt much better about his appearance! :')

Treebeard's line "I always like going south; it feels like going downhill" was ad-libbed!

When Saruman turns and reacts to all the water pouring in and washing his machinery away, that shot was actually a reaction shot to Wormtongue on top of the tower from the RotK movie that they repurposed for this scene instead, since they hadn't shot any reactions to the flood.

At least at the time of the recording of this audio commentary, the final shot of Gollum, where he's arguing with himself and ultimately decides to lead Frodo and Sam to Shelob, was the longest CG shot in any movie. (I tried to google what the current record is, but couldn't find anything, so if anyone knows, I'd love to hear about it!)

Fran Walsh: "All cinema storytelling, to a degree, is shallow. That's the nature of the medium. You've got two or three hours to present a world and a dense story with a hundred themes and a ton of backstory, in this instance, and 22 characters...so you can only really have the veneer of depth. You really can't have anything that comes close to the depth of the books, or the experience of the books. So I think what we attempted to do was to use the language of the books where we could and to certainly invoke them, the iconic images, where we could, but to keep the storytelling very much...to modernize it, if you like, in terms of cinema language. So we didn't, for example, use the style of storytelling that was in the books between these different after-the-fact storytelling, of Sam and Frodo and then a chunk of the Aragorn story. We completely undercut it. That was a far more immediate and engaging way to connect it to the audience. You can't really hope to satisfy people who adore this book, with the movie. You can only ever give them the sense of what might have been. That's all a film can do. I think, in that sense, films...I mean, they're entertainments. They're just not going to give you the pleasure that a book can give you."

#lord of the rings #lotr #the two towers #peter jackson #philippa boyens #fran walsh #i feel like i learned more with this one than the fotr one which was cool!

67 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 4 months

Text

End of the Year Fic Recs

thank you @thescrapwitch and @sallysavestheday for tagging me!

This is a wonderful game, I love reccing fics and I should do it more. I'll keep it all Silmarillion for the recs, since that's the bulk of what I've read this year. I haven't had the spoon to leave proper comments on some of these, so hopefully reccing them can count too?

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

- The Harrowing by @chthonion. I am forever in awe of this whole series and of Chthonion's writing. Somehow every single sentence is relatable and at least half of them are a punch in the gut, but in a healing way. A delightful Frodo, Celebrimbor and Finrod working through their trauma and Annatar, remade as an elf, learning how to be a good person (and a person at all, really).

- we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Truly delightful 70s AU as narrated by 8 year old Elrond, who just makes my heart melt in every chapter. Maedhros and Maglor as traumatized foster parents doing their best, the twins with their antics and their fears and joys, it's such a breath of fresh air and I can't get enough of it.

- Hanged Man by @tethysresort. Second age fic about the fall of Eregion and the start of Imladris with so much interesting worldbuilding and plot, and characterization of Elrond and Glorfindel especially that I really loved.

- Everlasting Song by @amethysttribble. This is perhaps a little more niche, a crossover with A Song of Ice and Fire, but I'm not an ASOIAF fan at all and I have like two whole memories of the books and I'm still finding absolutely delightful. Top-notch characterization of the Fëanorians, and it really keeps you on your toes.

- Aurë entuluva by @theheirofashandfire. Just very recently caught up with it and I love it to bits! The time loop is all kinds of angsty and breathtaking, and I really love the world that is being constructed afterwards. Wonderful Russingon, and I'm also, especially, in love with her Curufin and Celegorm.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- Wayward Son by @thescrapwitch. Angst exactly like I like it. Fëanor and Maglor, and it will make you cry. @thescrapwitch writes Maglor just wonderfully and I really love this Fëanor that will do absolutely anything for his son.

- On the difference between hostages and sons by leodesic (and the rest of the series as well). Absolutely delightful Elrond and Elros, as seen by Gil-galad when they first come to his court. I love Elrond defying expectation, and this was such a wonderful read.

- the world to come by arriviste. Arda Remade, told through the shadows and the gaps of what's missing. It's eerie, and I love a well-written eerie fic that leaves you feeling a little off-balance. Wonderful reflection on the price of perfection.

- Sea-Bells and Sunlight by @actual-bill-potts. Finrod, Lúthien and Beren in Mandos. This broke my heart in the best way.

- in the breaking by @thelordofgifs. Short but terribly impactful study of Maedhros and Maglor before the end, one of the best I've read of them.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

- A Farewell to Arms by MorwenSteelsheen (LOTR, Farawyn). Such a wonderful characterization and development of Faramir and Éowyn's relationship in a slight canon divergence where Éowyn arrives in Gondor two years before the end of the war of the Ring.

- The Splintered Light by @thearrogantemu. The whole series. These Gifts That You Have Given Me (Silvergifting) is well-known in the fandom, I think, and I absolutely loved it, but the other fics set in the Fourth Age were among the first I read in this fandom that I just fell straight in love with.

- The Host of the West by @mynameisjessejk. Various fics of the Otter Mayhem and Otterless Mayhem series could have gone into every category here because I love them all, but this is the one I chose because I reread it yesterday for the fourth (fifth?) time and it still had me bawling my eyes out. Probably my favourite Finrod, and definitely an inspiration for my own writing. The whole series is about healing and redemption and elf therapy and all of it is delightful.

- The Peril (and Potential) of Unleashing Lightning in a Fishbowl by @dawnfelagund. This one took everything I thought I knew about Caranthir, threw it out the window and gave me a truly brilliant characterization I didn't know I needed in my life. The worldbuilding is also delightful, and so is Amarië.

- Aranya by SpaceWall. I read this recently and it's really staying with me. Some people in my asks have expressed interest in fics that take the Valar to account for their mistakes, and this is a wonderful one. With a bonus revolution. I really love the non-linear storytelling as well, a hard-to-use tool that is done wonderfully here. Plus the title is inspired.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- your veins are empty of dust. Character study of Nerdanel as feels her family die across the sea, and she sculpts. This is also the fic for which I made the art I'm probably the proudest of to date.

- your smile tells me I'm safe. Modern AU with aro Maedhros and a Russingon QPR.

- silver. Míriel, Celegorm and Celebrimbor, and living with chronic illness.

- the light that you keep burning there. Part of a much larger AU where the second and third kinslayings don't happen, but this one is about Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon in the later years, as the world crumbles, trying to remember what (who) they're fighting for.

- if I am to braid my mystic crown. The Silmarillion retold through worldbuilding headcanons about braids.

Tagging @unforth @foodsies4me @wren-of-the-woods @camille-lachenille (I don't know who has already done it, so feel free to send me a link if you have!)

#fic recs #echo's fanfiction #silmarillion #tolkien

79 notes · View notes

minaturefics · 1 year

Text

Anything But This

Request: hi! Could you write a Boromir x fem! reader where Boromir thinks that The reader is in love with Faramir but she actually likes him

A/N: Hello! Some love for my man Boromir, hope you enjoy it!

Boromir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

3.5k words

---

The late afternoon air was cool and carried the sharp, almost sweet scent of oncoming rain. The colourful market awnings stood bright against the grey sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance while the shopkeepers’ voices called over one another. You nudged Faramir along, your elbow knocking into his, while his eyes scanned the wares on display.

“Faramir, it is no use. We have searched for nearly an hour now,” you said, throwing up your hands. “Perhaps we should come back next weekend.”

“Do not fret, my lady. There are still a few more stalls yet. I am certain you will find something for my brother.”

You sighed but continued on down the long street. Boromir’s birthday was in less than two weeks and despite your best efforts, you were yet to find a gift for him. What could you give to a man who could have whatever he desired? What could a lady of your station give him that he could not already acquire himself?

“What about painting him something?” Faramir suggested as you turned away from another stall.

You shook your head. “I still have to finish the one I am working on now.”

You thought back to the day you had met the brothers. Faramir had heard about you from one of his page boys and had summoned you to the Citadel to paint a portrait of them together. Faramir was handsome enough, but your heart had nearly stopped when you saw Boromir.

It was torture, trailing your eyes over his broad shoulders, fixating on the way his tunic hugged his form, staring into his proud grey eyes trying to mix the right shade to capture them. He seemed stiff and uncertain during the first session with Faramir when you sketched them out, but he warmed over the various sittings.

When you were painting the details of his face and clothes, he had sat alone for you, talking while you mixed colours or cleaned your brushes. How strange, how sweet, to see Boromir, the stern Captain of Gondor, lay down his steely exterior. You delighted in the way his eyes would light up when he spoke of the battles of old, how his whole demeanour changed when he laughed, how he would tell you stories of his army misadventures.

There had been a few times where you needed to straighten his tunic, or reposition his arm, and his nearness was almost too much of a distraction. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell his scent of cedar and musk. How your fingers longed to touch more than the fabric of his sleeve or the back of his hand.

You had tried to paint slower, to make mistakes with the colour, but there was no escaping the fact that the portrait would be finished soon enough. And with that, your time with Boromir would come to an end. Your stomach lurched. Boromir’s birthday was perhaps the last time you would see him.

You groaned as the end of the market street drew near. “I fear I will have nothing to give him.”

“I would not say that.” A smile played about Faramir’s lips and you arched your eyebrow at him. “I could not help but notice that you call Boromir to sit for you far more frequently than you do me.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you glanced away. “I do not know what you are implying.”

He chuckled. “Nothing, except that I do not believe I have seen my brother in such high spirits as I have seen him these past few weeks.”

Your heart sped up. Was it possible that Boromir felt the same for you? Or perhaps he had simply been happy to enjoy the company of a new friend. “You… you must be mistaken.”

Faramir’s voice softened. “I know my brother. He has been climbing trees and chasing things since he was young. He must truly enjoy your company for him to sit in one place for such a long time.”

“We are simply friends. Of a sort.” You sighed and crossed your arms. “It does not matter.”

“Why do you deny what is so plain to see?”

You thought of all the ladies you saw around the Citadel and the higher circles. Such sumptuous silks, such clean, pretty hands. They were befitting of Boromir's station. You had heard the whispers among the halls, overheard the quiet words in the courtyards — you were fortunate enough to even have the friendship of such a noble family. It would be foolish to think that he could ever be with you, a common painter.

“Faramir, I am not of noble birth.”

“Such things do not matter, not to Boromir and not to me.”

“They will not allow —”

“Who?” His words were sharp but his eyes were kind. “There is only Boromir and I left in our family, and I certainly do not object.” He placed a gentle hand on your arm. “I would be proud to call you ‘sister’.”

Honour and gratitude swelled in your chest and your bit back the tears forming in your eyes. “But King Aragorn…”

“Aragorn and Boromir have been through much together, and Aragorn of all people will not stand in the way of love. He will not deny the both of you either.”

Your heart swooped and you could not help but smile. It was possible, truly possible, for you to be with Boromir. But could you be certain of Faramir’s words? What if he was mistaken about Boromir’s feelings? The churning in your stomach started up again.

Your eyes roved the last few stands and you paused, catching sight of some carvings at a nearby stall. The spoons were beautifully carved, their handles even more so. Hearts weaved in and out of each other, a dove fluttered above a bell, grapes on vines curled up to blooming flowers.

“Lovespoons,” you breathed, tracing your fingers over one with two interlocked hearts. They were common among the regular folk, a heartfelt and inexpensive token someone could present to their lover.

“I dare say you have found a suitable gift.” Faramir grinned at you and you smiled back.

“Will you help me select one?”

He laughed and patted your hand. “I am not professing my love to Boromir. You pick which speaks to your heart.”

Your eyes drifted to one in the corner. It was less adorned than the rest, with twisted stems that led up to a single heart. An intertwined life, one love, one heart. You picked it up, and the anxious hum under your skin settled.

This would be the one.

Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder rumbled above. Rain mingled with Boromir’s sweat and dripped down his face. He took a vicious swing at the dummy with the wooden sword and let out a roar. His arms burned and his hand stung with blisters, but he carried on attacking the dummy, hoping that each strike would clear the images that had plagued him for the last few days.

You and his brother, looking at lovespoons. Together.

He was supposed to sit for you that afternoon, but you had sent him a note an hour beforehand saying that you could not make it. He had sought out Faramir, wanting to alleviate his boredom, but had found his brother’s rooms and the steward’s office empty. Restless and unsettled, he had wandered through the city, until he saw you and Faramir in the distance.

The memory stabbed at his heart and pierced the dummy’s straw body. What could he do? His brother loved you, and who could blame him?

It had been so easy to fall in love with you watching you work. Passion burned in your eyes, your gaze soft but keen as it swept over him. Your hands were swift and confident, capturing his likeness in a way that felt natural, creating textures on the canvas that he did not think possible.

You were so beautiful in the morning light you enjoyed painting in, the soft yellow glow seemingly radiating from within you. And the stories you told about yourself captivated him. How you covered the walls of your family home in murals, how you once travelled to Dol Amroth to find seashells to make a new pigment, how you would paint portraits of dogs or cats that have passed to ease the suffering of their owners.

Each time you requested he sit for you, his heart would leap in his chest, and more than once he had to hide the heat rising in his cheeks from you. There was a time where he thought that perhaps you returned his feelings, but alas… He must have misread the looks you gave him, mistaking gentle observation for tenderness, mistaking genuine smiles with ones borne of politeness. And your touches, the ones he secretly coveted, the ones where he would wrinkle his shirt or mislay his hand for, they were nothing more than that.

Perhaps the reason you called him in more than Faramir was simply because he was more difficult to capture. Valar knows his armour has more small parts and embellishments than Faramir’s steward’s uniform. Maybe all the time spent talking was simply you wishing to know him better, the brother of your lover.

Lover. The word sat like a black stone in his chest. He growled and drove the sword into the dummy again and again.

No, he would not tell Faramir of the pain in his heart, of the love he had lost. He knew his brother well, and Faramir would forever look upon him with guilt and pity in his eyes. No, his brother had suffered far too much, especially at the hands of their father. Let him have his love unhindered.

Boromir would cope. He had to, somehow.

Your laugh rang out across the small courtyard and his head snapped up to the sound. You were walking with Faramir under shelter, your eyes bright and your lips parted in laughter. His heart wrenched and he glanced away. Hopefully you and his brother would pass quickly. He did not need the sting of your presence, the reminder of everything he could not have.

“Boromir!” you called.

He tried to keep his voice even when turned and spoke. “Yes, my lady?”

“Faramir and I were wondering if you would like to see the decorations in the hall.” You glanced behind your shoulder to where his brother stood just a few steps behind. There was a small smile on his face and fondness in his eyes.

“No, I… I am certain whatever you and my brother have come up with will be sufficient.”

Your expression dropped and you shifted on your feet. “Is anything the matter, Boromir? When you sat for me the other day you… you left early.”

It had been too much, to sit there under your stare, to watch your hands and your eyes and your lips. He had faced hoards of Uruk-hai, battled oliphants on Pelennor, faced the Enemy at hell’s gates, but you… you just a few metres away, beautiful, untouchable… it had been too much. Was this what his men meant when they said that love brought people to their knees? He had sat there, still and stiff, begging, pleading in his mind for some sort of relief from the images that sprung to it each time he looked at you.

“I have been occupied recently. The guards require my attention.” He glanced at Faramir, whose brows were drawing together. Could his brother see the love plain on his face? He would need to be better at disguising it. “I trust the both of you.”

You opened your mouth and snapped it shut again. “I see… Perhaps… Would you like to dine together this evening? When we have finished with the preparations?”

He could not endure an entire evening with only you and Faramir. To see the love in his brother’s eyes that he himself could not show, to see your warm smiles directed at another, to bear witness to your loving touches. No, he could not abide by that torture.

He shook his head. “Another time perhaps. You should go, my brother is waiting.”

“Boromir —”

He turned away, finger tightening around the sword. “Go.”

The small hall was alight with candles and lanterns. Bunting was strung up between the pillars, the bright colours stark against the black and white stone. A quartet of musicians played a cheery tune that some were dancing to in the middle of the room. You skirted the edges of the crowd, offering polite smiles to those that recognised you, searching for Boromir.

He seemed strangely intent on avoiding you for the last few days, spending most of his time in the army barracks where you were not allowed to go. Unease sat in your stomach and you fisted your dress. Was Faramir wrong all along? Perhaps Boromir truly did not have any affection for you. But what of those shared looks, half-hopeful and hesitant? Maybe you simply envisioned it, put meaning to something simply because it was what your heart longed for.

You sighed. The portrait was finished. Tonight would be the last time you would be able to see him. There would be no more excuse to go up to the citadel, no excuse to see him in the week. Faramir had said you were welcome to visit whenever you wished but it would be too painful to walk the rooms and corridors, Boromir’s absence reminding you of the love that was not yours to have.

You craned your head around the mass of bodies and found Faramir was standing by the door that led out to one of the side gardens, a worried expression on his face.

“Faramir, is anything the matter?”

“It is my brother,” he said, sending another furtive look outside. “He has been remarkably sullen this whole evening. And he usually loves his birthday celebrations.”

“He has also been avoiding me,” you sighed. “I fear there is something bothering him. Do you suppose it could be me?”

“What do you mean, my lady?” “What if I have made him… uncomfortable with my attentions? Perhaps he realised that I could have misunderstood the closeness between us and this is his way of quietly turning me down?”

Faramir shook his head. “I have never known my brother to do anything quietly. Especially for something such as this. He would be direct, even if it was hurtful, so as no misunderstandings would occur.”

You glanced at the dim garden. “Where did he go?”

“He said he wanted to get some air. I thought of giving him some time before going to speak to him. I hope he has not already escaped to his rooms.” Faramir’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps you should go find him. I think you will be better received than I will.”

You touched the lovespoon in your pocket, feeling it through the fabric, and nodded. You wandered out into the night, wincing a little at the cool breeze that swept through the garden. The noise of the crowd ebbed away and was replaced by rustling trees and chirping crickets. Sand crunched under your slippered feet as you walked down the path that winded through the tall hedges and shrubs.

You rounded a corner and found Boromir standing by one of the trees, head tilted back to look at the stars. There was a look in his eyes. Resignation and anguish, weariness and fatigue.

“Boromir?” you called softly, afraid of startling him. He turned his stormy grey eyes on you and you hesitated. “Is… is something the matter? You are missing your party.”

“I am in no mood for celebrations,” he muttered, voice distant and bitter. He shook his head and cleared his throat. His voice was gentler when he spoke again. “Did my brother send you to find me?”

“Yes… No, well I… I was looking for you and he told me where you were.”

He shook his head and glanced away. “I suppose I should get used to the notion of the both of you together.”

Get used to it? What did he mean? Tonight would be the last time you would see either of them regularly, if at all.

“Forgive me, my lady. My mood has left me ill-mannered.” He gestured towards the path. “I am not much for conversation tonight. Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

You took a step towards him. “Boromir, what did you mean? About getting used to Faramir and I together.”

His eyes cut back to you, pained and guarded. He let out a puff of air before he said, “You and my brother. Now that the both of you are…” He swallowed.

“I don’t understand.” You reached a tentative hand out and he stepped back. Your heart lurched. He had never recoiled from your touch before.

“Fine. I will speak plainly then, as much as it pains me, but I must ask you spare Faramir of the truth.” His voice grew hard and stiff. “I will admit to harbouring feelings for you.”

Your heart thudded in your ears. Feelings? Boromir returned your feelings?

“And as much as I am happy that the both of you have found your joy,” he continued. “I must confess it causes me great suffering to —”

“Boromir,” you said. “Faramir and I are only friends.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “I do not appreciate being lied to. I saw you that day at the markets, looking for lovespoons.”

You shook your head at him and reached into your pocket. You presented the spoon to him with a small laugh. “It was for you.”

His jaw grew slack and his shoulders dropped. “For… me?” He unfolded his arms and took it from you. He ran his fingers over the wood, tracing the intertwining vines.

Such beautiful hands, such lovely fingers. And yours, finally yours.

“Did you truly think that Faramir and I…?”

“I do not know,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the wood before tucking the spoon into the breast pocket of his doublet, right above his heart. “I could not think of any other reason why two people would look at lovespoons together.”

“I was searching for a birthday gift when we chanced upon the lovespoon stall.” You reached out, your hand hovering in the space between the both of you. He grasped it, his warm fingers curling around your own.

He drew you in and his other hand came to rest on your waist. His scent enveloped you and inhaled, melting at his familiar smell. You caressed his cheek, his beard rough under your fingers, and he grinned at you.

“For so many days I have lived in agony, wondering how I should live watching the two people I love most in the world love each other.”

“Why did you not say anything until now?”

“How could I? It would have done little good.”

“And you would have suffered in silence?”

“For you and Faramir, I would do anything.” His hand slid up your arm to your shoulder. He cupped your face and swept his thumb over your cheek. His eyes shimmered in the low light, tender and naked in their affection. “You are so beautiful. For so long I have wanted… wanted…”

He leaned down and you tilted your head up. His lips were warm and soft, and his exhale was hot on your skin. He tugged you closer and deepened the kiss. You could taste the tartness of the wine lingering on his lips, the sweetness of the berry pie, and something that was distinctly him. He was solid against you, his chest broad and firm, searing even through the layers of fabric.

You drew back and took a breath, flushed and dazed. He chuckled and nudged your temple with his nose. “Should I have known how good you taste, I would have kissed you earlier.”

You laughed and buried your face in his chest. “I would have never finished the portrait then.”

“Then you would have more excuses to come see me.”

“Do I need excuses to see you?”

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “No, not ever. Speaking of excuses, we should rejoin the party. Our presence will be missed, I think.”

“I think we are more in danger of Faramir finding us… occupied.”

He laughed, a deep, warm sound, and led you down the path. “A terrible fate for him, I should think.”

The sounds of the party grew louder and when the both of you emerged from between the hedges, Faramir was standing outside by the door.

“Thank Valar” he said, a soft smile on his face at the sight of your joined hands. “I was going to send one of the hobbits after you. I thought something truly unfortunate must have happened.”

“No, brother,” Boromir said, slinging an arm around Faramir’s shoulder. “I think I have been given the greatest blessing of my life.” He knocked his head against Faramir’s. “After you, of course.”

“Was your ill-mood simply due to pining? It felt too thunderous for it to just be that.”

You shared a look with Boromir and he shook his head. “I will explain another night, little brother.”

Faramir’s eyes darted to you, eyebrows raised in silent question. You laughed and tugged them forward. “We can talk later.”

“Tonight,” Boromir said as he released Faramir and bumped his shoulder, his smile wide on his face, “we celebrate!”

#boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr #boromir #request

536 notes · View notes

emmyspov · 1 year

Text

Communication (Boromir x Reader)

author's note: after reading some really amazing boromir fics (yes, @sotwk i am looking at you especially 👀) i am now in my boromir of the fellowship era (also legolas, I know, i am like 10 years too late for my age group, but i've suddenly become very obsessed with orlando bloom) and wanted to contribute something! please bear with me, it's my first time writing for him & english isn't my first language 🩷

warnings: everybody lives AU, angsty in the beginning (insecure reader/boromir), idiots being in love & fluff (plus a tight friendship between faramir and reader & established faramir/éowyn <3) - let me know if i missed something!

word count: 2.2k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

“You should join us again. My brother has been looking for you all evening.”

You turned around to Faramir and sighed. “I know you only want to make me feel better, but I saw him dancing with a fair lady earlier, probably one of noble blood.” You swallowed hard. “And the way he was looking at her, I just-” You shook your head while focusing on cleaning whatever surface seemed dirty, leaving your friend to imagine the rest of your sentence.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that you had been harboring feelings for the Lord of Gondor and yet, he seemed blind to whatever affection you were trying to show him.

The younger one of the brothers leaned against a table, his eyes fixated on you. “You should see the way he looks at you.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Are you taking on the role of the jester tonight? His eyes never even cross mine.” You wrung out the piece of fabric with your hands, trying to let go of some of the heavy feelings in your chest.

“Please, Faramir, you are only making this harder for me. Boromir will never let his heart be captured by someone like me.”

“My brother does not care about status. You could be the lowest servant and it would not affect the way he feels about you. You care for Gondor, for the people here, our people, and he sees that. Nothing else matters.”

You finally let go of the dirty cloth in your hand and faced your friend, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand.

“I’m not saying he cares about my rank; I’m saying that he has hundreds of people who want him. Women and men from all over Middle Earth. Why would he go for someone who… no one else has ever shown interest in?”

Faramir was about the reply when your voice cut through the silence again.

“By now, I think I am just not lovable in that way. People love me as a friend, as a sibling or as an advisor when there is work to do. And I adore that. I love that I never have to question if there are people who care for me. But I do ask myself if there is something wrong with me.”

The younger brother squeezed your shoulder in a comforting manner. “The only thing that’s wrong with you is the way you see yourself. You will find someone who-“

You finished his sentence for him, a teasing grin on your lips, as soon as you realized he had gotten lost in thought. “Someone who will make your palms sweaty? Your heart beat faster? Someone who will make the blood rush into your cheeks?”

A giggle left your lips at the sheepish smile on Faramir’s face. “I apologize.”

Your finger poked his chest, scolding him playfully. “Don’t you dare, son of Gondor. You deserve this. You really do. I can see that Éowyn brings joy into your life. Speaking of Éowyn – shouldn’t you return to your lady?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? No, let us go together. You haven’t danced with anyone tonight and I cannot let you leave in that state. I have to a see a smile on that face.”

It was impossible to stay in your little bubble of self-pity when you had a friend like Faramir. Even though he was courting a shieldmaiden of Rohan, he was still watching out for you and your happiness.

“You have convinced me. One dance and then I will leave.”

Faramir smiled and pushed himself away from the table, leading you out the door where you nearly bumped into his older brother and Éowyn.

“My love, we were looking for you”, she exclaimed and immediately wrapped her arms around his arm. “Boromir wanted to get away from everyone for a moment and we figured it would only be the two of you in this part of the building.”

Little did you know that Boromir had pretty much begged his soon to be sister-in-law to lead him to you. And she was neither dumb or blind, she knew how you two felt about one another.

Your eyes fell to Boromir’s hands. He was carrying several jugs and although he did so with ease, you couldn’t help but offer assistance.

“May I help you with that, my Lord?”

His eyes locked with yours and immediately, you looked down to the ground. Blood rushed into your cheeks and you cursed yourself internally.

One look from him was all it took for you to get weak in the knees.

Boromir, on the other hand, was struggling just as much. If he said yes, you might feel like it was expected of you and that he saw nothing else in you but some sort of servant – which wasn’t the case, of course. But if he said no, he would lose another chance of getting to speak more than just a few words with you.

After what felt like an eternity, some words finally tumbled out of his mouth. “You don’t have to.” He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the nervous lump. “But I would appreciate your company.”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his once more. With new found confidence and a smile on your face, you took two of the jugs and made your way back into the room you came from.

“Is there some warm water around here? To clean the jars?”

You nodded. “Yes, I boiled some earlier for other things, but do not worry. It is not your responsibility to wash up.”

The Lord chuckled. “It isn’t yours either. So, do you have a preference?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you rather wash or dry the dishes?”

Thousands of thoughts were running through your head and yet, the only thing you could focus on was the man in front of you, holding a towel in one, and a cloth in the other hand, asking you about what you’d rather do.

To others, it might seem like a small thing, but most of the time no one even cared if you did the chores around here, let alone offer help.

“Oh.” A smile spread over your face. “I do not have a preference.”

After one look at your hands and seeing how wrinkled the skin already was from all the work you’ve been doing this evening all by yourself, Boromir threw the towel at you and started to roll up his sleeves to protect the fabric from the water, exposing his strong forearms.

Blood rushed into your cheeks at the thought of what he could do with those arms and you averted your gaze, trying to think of something else, something decent.

“Why did you leave so early tonight?”

You were not going to admit that you had felt out of place all evening, that you had desperately wished for some of his attention or that you couldn’t bear to see him dancing with so many people but you.

“I figured I would be more of use here.”

The man looked around. “We’re the only ones here. The celebration is in the great hall and, forgive me, while you are a very hardworking person, there is no way you can take care of everything by yourself. Wasn’t it Aragorn’s explicit wish for us to enjoy ourselves tonight?”

You took the first clean jug from Boromir, accidently meeting his wet fingers in the process. A shudder ran through you.

“It was.”

“And you’re telling me you were enjoying this time here, working all by yourself, more than the festivities with your loved ones?”

You gulped. “I am telling you that I was only sitting around all by myself in the great hall and that, here, I could be at least somewhat productive.” You could feel his eyes on you and a sigh left your lips. “Alright. I felt like I didn’t belong there tonight.”

So much for not telling him.

“I saw Aragorn with Arwen and Faramir with Éowyn and I couldn’t stand the pity in their eyes anymore whenever they looked my way.”

“Why would they pity you?”

You set down another glass after drying it off, letting the question hang in the air for a moment.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Because the man my heart is set on has not shown me an ounce of attention while I was there.”

The jug Boromir was currently washing slipped out of his hands at your little secret.

He should have known. There was no way he’d ever have a chance with you.

“I apologize for not paying you any attention.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized your statement was so revealing. Guilt was spreading in your chest as you saw his head hung low. He deserved to be happy, no matter with whom.

“No! No, I- I haven’t earned the right to tell you who you should or shouldn’t dance with. If she makes you feel light in your heart, then I support that.”

His green eyes met yours. “Me?”

Suddenly, you realized your mistake. He had not apologized for not returning your feelings. He was feeling guilty for not paying more attention to his friend earlier.

Oh no.

“You were talking about me?”

“My lord.“ You gulped, trying to find something, anything, that would ease the tension between the two of you. “It was not my intention to burden you with my feelings. But I am glad that they are out in the open, even if you do not return-“

At that, Boromir wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his hard chest. You tensed up.

“Why would you think I do not harbor the same feelings for you?”

You held your breath.

“Who do you think ordered fresh flowers to your chambers last week?”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze. “That was you? I thought- I thought that was Samwise’s doing because he is the only one I ever told my favorite flower, so I sent a letter to the Shire to thank him but he-“

“The halfling told me. After I asked him.” After a few moments, a chuckle left his lips. “I do admit, I should have added my name. Or at least a hint that it was me who sent the flowers.”

“But I don’t understand! Did you never notice my accidental touches or my longing eyes or…” You stopped yourself when you saw the playful twinkle in the man’s eyes. Your cheeks were burning when you realized what you had just admitted.

“I did notice. But apparently, I misunderstood your intention. I thought you were just being friendly.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, soft laughter falling from your own lips by now. “We should really work on our communication, my beloved.”

“What was that?”

You could hear the teasing tone, but you did not care. “I said”, you whispered into his ear, “that we should really work on our communication. My beloved.”

Boromir hummed, one of his hands wandering to the small of your back. “We should”, he mused, while he dried off his hands on the towel you were holding. “But first, I think I owe you a dance.”

He saw your eyes widen with happiness at the proposition and his heart skipped a beat.

Oh, the things he’d do to ensure your happiness.

The fingers that weren’t sprawled over your back, grabbed your hand. You could feel your heart beat against your ribcage.

“I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes”, you breathed out which earned you a soft laugh.

“I have survived worse, sweetheart. I got you. Just follow my lead.”

Nothing has ever been easier. You trusted him.

Boromir was invading all your senses, making you lose track of time. His scent, his hands touching you – they were so warm, you realized – his gaze flickering back and forth between your eyes and your lips, making you dizzy.

A gasp left your lips as the lord twirled your around before pulling you flush against his body, his hands settling on your waist, holding you steady. His eyes were locked on yours.

No words could describe what you were feeling right now, your whole body was buzzing.

“Kiss me.”

Boromir’s grip on your waist tightened slightly and he cleared his throat. “Are you certain?”

You nodded your head yes. “I am. Please.”

As if he’d ever deny you such a request.

The man cupped your cheek and leaned down. Your heart was racing and you fisted the fabric of his shirt. Your pulse quickened and you closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing before his lips touched yours.

His lips were warm. Maybe everything about him was warm, you wondered. A little dry, too, but you didn’t mind.

It only took you a few seconds to fully relax into his touch. Every thought in your head was replaced with him.

A little whine tumbled out of your mouth when you two parted and Boromir took a deep breath before pressing a quick kiss against your lips once more.

He grinned at you afterwards. “How is that for communication?”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his middle, letting your head rest on his chest. “I’d like to learn how to communicate with you in every possible way.”

Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

#boromir x reader #boromir #cuddlebug <3 #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fic #reader insert

349 notes · View notes

kylobith · 5 months

Text

LotR Week - Day 7 (17th Dec) - Happy 20th anniversary to The Return of the King!

free prompt

Word count: 2,155

Like every year, it is movie night and everybody participates in one way or another.

Sam busies himself in the kitchen, wearing his apron over his clothes, tidying up while his stew cooks on the stove so there would be little clutter left to clean up once the evening has been enjoyed. Éowyn offered her help but was kindly distracted by Aragorn and Faramir at once, who suggested that she prepare the plates of snacks instead. So, happy to be included anyway, she stands at the little table set up in the corner of the kitchen and lays out cubes of cheese and other finger food on several plates, planting little sword-shaped picks into them so nobody would pick the food with their own fingers. Blissfully captivated by her task, a wide grin upon her face, she ignores the hidden high-five that her husband and the man she once thought she loved share in her back.

Counting the seats to ensure that everybody has the perfect and comfortable spot for them, Frodo clicks his tongue and rearranges some of the chairs. As Merry crosses the room to bring clean hand towels for the bathroom, he halts him and asks him to bring another chair from the library once he is done hanging the towels beside the sink.

Standing atop a stepladder — although she hardly needs it — Arwen hangs fairy lights above the windows, asking Pippin whether they are straight enough before taping them, with the Hobbit cutting off strips and handing them to her. Once every window is ornamented, she climbs down the ladder and folds it, letting Pippin carry it back to the closet in the corridor. Then, she hastens to put candles in their holders all over the place for the perfect atmosphere.

Sitting on the only rocking chair they could put their hands on, Gandalf smokes his pipe with a wide grin. Everybody agreed that he should sit down and enjoy his night, and he planned to do exactly that. He observes the lively house buzzing with activity with a smile, content to see everyone working together to make this movie night unforgettable, as always. While Aragorn brings the plates over to the table once Éowyn is done preparing them, the old wizard keeps his staff in hand, glaring at Pippin every time that he comes too close to them. He will not have him steal any of the delicacies before the night has even started, thank you very much.

Merry returns to the kitchen after adding the chair requested by Frodo to the living room.

‘Towels are up, Sam,’ he says, burying his hands in his pockets. ‘What can I do next?’

‘I think we should be alright by now,’ the cooking Hobbit replied, stirring the stew with a satisfied grin. ‘Have you swept the hallway too?’

‘As requested, yes. By the way, why are you cooking a stew for movie night? I doubt anyone will feel like eating that.’

‘Nonsense! Every night is good for stew. You’re just jealous you can’t cook one as delicious as this one. Oh, by the way, are the ales ready?’

Merry thinks for a moment and nods.

‘They are, but I will add some to the fridge just to be safe.’

‘Thanks.’

The doorbell rings, heralding the first guest’s arrival. Faramir opens the door and instantly opened his arms to embrace his older brother.

‘Welcome, Boromir,’ he chimes, patting his back. ‘You are the first one to arrive!’

‘Éowyn threatened to slit my throat if I arrived late, so I did not have much of a choice.’

‘Ah, you know how she gets. Come in, let me take your coat.’

As Faramir hangs Boromir’s coat on the rack and closes the door, Boromir waves at the company, holding up a pack of fresh ales. Merry takes the cans from him, enthusiastically greeting him and showing him to Frodo, who guides him to his assigned seat. The newcomer sits down and begins to chatter with Gandalf, exchanging pleasantries and catching up with each other.

Soon after, Legolas and Gimli arrive, all smiles and hand in hand. Their cloaks are gracefully taken by Faramir once more, and they step inside the living room.

‘I brought Lembas bread,’ Legolas announces with pride, placing the leaf he has wrapped them in on the table along with the other snacks.

‘A whole Elvish culinary culture, yet it is always Lembas bread he brings to everything,’ Gimli groans behind his boyfriend’s back to Boromir.

Éowyn throws a glance at the clock on the wall and grunts.

‘They are late. Unbelievable.’

‘That is quite alright,’ Gandalf laughs. ‘The Rohirrim are never late, nor are they early.’

‘Yes, yes, they arrive precisely when they mean to, I have heard that before.’

‘No. They are terrible when it comes to time management.’

The old wizard’s playful remark triggers a chuckle from Éowyn, enabling her to relax after having insisted for days that everybody come on time for the film. She warned them and yet they do not bother respecting the time given to them. It is their loss, she thinks to herself. There is nothing more that she can do.

Sam peeks into the living room to ensure that everything is in order. Taking off his oven mittens, he admires everybody’s work with glee.

‘Well, I see that we are still missing four people. Ah, well, they are all supposed to bring something, so… You can already have a nibble, but do not go overboard. Especially you, Merry and Pippin!’

‘We would not dare!’

‘Don’t worry, Sam,’ Gandalf reassures the busy Hobbit, ‘I am keeping an eye on them.’

Sam nods and disappears into the kitchen again. At the same time, another guest announces their arrival through the ringing of the doorbell. When Faramir answers it, Arwen gasps with joy and trots up to her father to embrace him.

‘Ada!’

Elrond grins and lifts his daughter as he presses a kiss to her temple.

‘I apologise for the delay, little star,’ he says, gently patting her cheek. ‘Somebody parked their horse in the worst way possible outside.’

Before Faramir can close the door after the Elven lord, somebody pushes it open, nearly sending it crashing against his nose.

‘Sorry, sorry, I’m here! Rang at the wrong house.’

Out of breath and his golden hair dishevelled, Éomer has no coat to hand to his brother-in-law. The latter, however, instantly leans in to whisper to him.

‘Steer clear of your sister if you want to make it out of here alive.’

‘Ah, let her skin me. Not the first time.’

Before his sister stumbles upon him and scolds him, the Rohir opens a box of store-bought doughnuts and puts it on the table, compromising on a spot with Elrond, who has come with some Elven pastries for everyone to enjoy. Since some of the guests have already started to eat, they already pick something to nibble on. Aragorn lifts one of the swords carrying a piece of cheese, but before he can tuck it between his teeth, Arwen snatches it and holds it up teasingly.

‘Hey, that’s mine!’ he laughs, taking her by the waist.

‘If you want it, come and claim it.’

‘Mh. I could retrieve it by force, but it is not this day.’

And so, she throws the cheese into her mouth, giggling as Aragorn comes to place a tender kiss upon her rosy lips. Meanwhile, Frodo starts gathering the guests and showing them to their assigned seats and chairs, explaining his choice but allowing them to switch at any time. Pippin walks around asking what everybody wants to drink, acting like a waiter while Merry fetches the beverages that his cousin requests.

Théoden arrives shortly after, carrying the best wines that Rohan has to offer. Éowyn takes him by the hand and leads him to a comfortable armchair, while Pippin comes to tend to him, offering him something to eat. The king of Rohan decides to share a bottle of wine with Elrond and Gandalf as they watch Frodo pacing up and down.

‘There is something missing. But I forgot what it is.’

‘Some actual Elven food, maybe?’ Gimli grunts, eyeing Legolas before following Merry to help him carry a large cool box to the living room, so every drink will be easy to reach.

As Frodo regards Legolas quizzically, the latter whispers:

‘Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?’

‘But it is the eleventh event in a row that you bring Lembas bread.’

‘It is consistent food, does not require a lot of preparation, does not take up much space… It is the perfect choice.’

The Hobbit nods with a dubitative expression, before patting him in the back. He circles around the table and observes the decoration again, the coats on the rack, the seats he has assigned on his list… Oh. There is one vacant, with no name assigned to it.

Behind him, Sam claps his hands and everyone hurries off to their seat. Boromir sits on the end of the couch beside his brother, playfully rubbing his knuckles against Faramir’s scalp, holding him in a gentle headlock and laughing. Éowyn sits next to her husband and pats the space next to her to invite Éomer to join them.

Éomer grumbles and sits down with his arms crossed.

‘You two lovebirds better not snog the entire time,’ he groans. ‘It is sickening.’

‘Oh, shush.’

The three elders sit around each other, while the four Hobbits plan to sit on cushions on the floor, preferring the cosiness of the set-up to the mismatched chairs. On the right side, Gimli and Legolas sit beside each other, with the dwarf discreetly biting a piece of Lembas bread that he will never admit to having consumed to Legolas, who reclines into his chair with a cup of wine in his hand. Next to them, Aragorn and Arwen take their seats, bringing them closer together so they can cuddle while watching the film.

Sam serves everyone a small cauldron-shaped bowl of stew, much to their surprise, but nobody criticises the choice. They all gladly devour the beef, potatoes and vegetables while Pippin makes the (very) questionable choice to alternate between a spoonful of the sauce and a lick at a ring pop on his finger. While he tastes the candy, a screech resonates against the window from outside.

Two wide blue eyes ogle the Hobbit’s treat.

‘Preciousss?’

Before anybody has time to react, Faramir closes the blinds in Sméagol’s face.

Frodo is still confused. He counts everything on the table again, the number of seats that he planned for. There is still somebody and something missing.

When the doorbell rings, Frodo rushes to welcome the last guest. All smiles and carrying two wide salad bowls full of popcorn, a young man with long, dark blond hair appears.

‘Hi, sorry that I am late.’

‘Théodred!’

Éomer is beyond relieved to see his cousin at the door. He makes some more space between himself and his sister for him to sit.

‘There is no movie night without popcorn,’ Merry coos. ‘Alright, I believe that everyone’s here and we have all the snacks in the world!’

‘Indeed,’ Sam grins. ‘Everybody sit down.’

Théodred hugs his father and bypasses the Hobbit, careful not to step on them as he walks past them on his way to the couch. He settles between his two adoptive siblings and gladly accepts wine from Sam.

‘I am glad that you are here,’ Éomer whispers to him. ‘That way I won’t have to see Éowyn and Fari making out the whole time.’

‘Don’t be an arse, ‘Mer,’ Théodred sighs without even casting a glance in his direction, watching Aragorn switch on the TV and browse a whole catalogue of films until he finds the right one.

Sam switches off the light before sitting down, plunging the living room into darkness, if not for the many candles and fairy lights carefully laid out by Arwen. Aragorn selects the film and it starts to play.

‘Ah, The Return of the King!’ Legolas exclaims joyfully. ‘Excellent choice.’

‘I can’t wait to see Boromir die again!’ Pippin cackles, earning a loud ‘Hey!’ from the concerned party.

Merry leans closer, munching one of Elrond’s pastries.

‘It’s not in that one, Pip.’

‘Oh.’

As the title screen appears, Arwen leans on her elbows, resting her chin in the palms of her hands and staring fondly at the television.

‘Twenty years. Can you believe it?’

‘Time flies, that is for sure,’ Théoden grins, raising his glass before sipping his wine.

‘Unbelievable,’ Gimli scoffs, realising how long it has been since it all happened. ‘Do you think that there is someone out there who enjoys our adventures as much as we did?’

There is a long moment of silence, only disturbed by the film’s music. Frodo crosses his arms with a sullen expression.

‘Enjoy is a bit of an overstatement.’

And here we are, at the end of LotR Week. It has been an amazing challenge to write these short pieces with such vague yet inspiring prompts about our favourite characters and this trilogy that means so much to us for different reasons.

Thank you, @lotr20 and especially @southfarthing, for organising all of that. I'm definitely going to miss this event now that it's done. You have sparked such camaraderie within the fandom, connected strangers and inspired others, and it is nothing short of amazing.

Thank you to all of those who have engaged with my writing in one way or another, who have shared my works and taken the time to not only read them, but comment on them. A special shoutout to @konartiste, @emmanuellececchi, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras, @sotwk and @meluiloth-of-rivendell for your support. You have made me fall in love with writing all over again and you have made me feel so appreciated and accepted this week! ♥

And, of course, happy anniversary to The Return of the King, a film that moves me beyond belief and that brings me so much comfort when I need it. I wish I had the time to watch it today to celebrate, but unfortunately, time wasn't on my side. So here's this little piece instead!

46 notes · View notes

invisiblewashboard · 2 months

Text

I usually have a book club to attend on Thursday nights, but tonight I did not. And so, I used that time to instead compile some more of Small Child’s Thoughts and present you with a Triple Feature! Now you are all caught up on his thoughts. Two more chapters of The Two Towers left, and then it’s on to The Return of the King!

Small Child’s Thoughts on “The Forbidden Pool”

I wish Faramir just wouldn’t have woken Frodo up. That guy needs sleep.

Ooh, that’s just Gollum. Sam will not be happy about that.

Why is Faramir asking if that’s a bird? He knows it’s not a bird. I don’t like when people ask questions when they already know the answer.

That’s gross. I don’t like eating fish. But I really wouldn’t like fish if they weren’t cooked.

Um, no, Frodo should not say they can shoot him because he has stuff to do.

Gollum is not listening. That’s not a good idea.

Well, that’s just going to make Gollum angry. I would be angry too. I don’t like it when people make me go where I don’t want to go.

He has a name! Why is he saying he doesn’t have a name?

I don’t know why they are saying they are going to kill Gollum.

Hey Mom? (Yes, Small Child?) I don’t really like Faramir. (Oh, that makes me sad! Why don’t you like him?) He just talks too much about things I think are not important.

“Journey to the Cross-Roads”

He had no thoughts about this chapter other than “too much scenery.”

“The Stairs of Cirith Ungol”

That Ring is so bad, so, so bad.

I know what “illuminated” means, and this book said something that doesn’t make sense. A light always illuminates something because that’s what light does!

I bet those flowers smell like the fish trees. You say those are bad trees.

Frodo should just not go there. That is a bad place.

Woah! That Ring is bad! I didn’t know it could move like that.

That is just one tired guy.

Aw, poor, poor Frodo. He’s just trying his very best even though he is so tired.

You are reading a lot of words about screaming and lights and thunder and I just do not know what any of this means.

The Black Riders are back and that’s bad. Is that guy going to stab Frodo again? Oh, I am really glad Frodo isn’t getting stabbed. He’s been stabbed a lot.

The book says “almost forgotten,” but it wasn’t almost for me. I did just really forget about that thing from Galadriel.

I think probably Faramir will just be dead soon.

Gollum needs to let them rest a long time, because their legs are tired and probably they are hurting really bad.

I know that tunnel they have to go through is not a train tunnel with track going through it. But I think that would be a good thing to put in this story. I like it when stories have trains and this one doesn’t have them.

I think Sam should not be so rude. I just think he knew they would have to be sneaky even if Gollum didn’t say it.

I don’t think people or hobbits or anything wants to go where Frodo and Sam are. I don’t want to. I like to stay at home and eat bread.

Is the silmaril from that book you have that is called “The Silmarillion?” Can you read me that one when we finish the last book? (I’d love to read it to you someday, Small Child, but you may need to be just a little older before you’ll like that one.) Is it an old people book? (Maybe.) You’re just very old, so I guess that’s why you like it, probably.

The great tales never end like the biggest story never ends, right? Like God’s story isn’t over yet.

This story is one of your favorite stories! (It is! Is it one of yours?) No.

Gollum is not good in this tale. He just wants to get the Ring back, right? Even though it is not good for him.

I just don’t know why Gollum is angry that Sam said he was sneaking. Because he was sneaking.

See? Gollum says he was sneaking, so he can’t be mad.

It can’t be tomorrow if they are talking about it. For them it is just today. Because it’s always just today if that’s the time you’re in. It is just NOT tomorrow. It’s today!

#small child's thoughts #lord of the rings #lotr #jrr tolkien #the two towers #read aloud #first read through #he doesn’t like Faramir #I have failed as a mother #too much scenery #it can’t be tomorrow if it’s today #triple feature #hat trick

20 notes · View notes

cornerful · 2 months

Text

Frodo had felt himself trembling as the first shock of fear passed. Now a great weariness came down on him like a cloud. He could dissemble and resist no longer.

'I was going to find a way into Mordor,' he said faintly. 'I was going to Gorgoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there.'

Faramir stared at him for a moment in grave astonishment. Then suddenly he caught him as he swayed, and lifting him gently, carried him to the bed and laid him there, and covered him warmly. At once he fell into a deep sleep.

This always moves me, how Faramir is so openly tender to him (and they only met this morning.) That he physically carries him when he can't stand any longer and makes sure he'll sleep warmly. There's no "oh gee...sucks for you wow" *awkward shoulder pat.* There's no self-ashamed, emotionally beaten down worry about being "uncool" or "unmanly" for showing kindness.

Poor Frodo is just exhausted from the weight of the world on his shoulders, and having to hide and hide the nature of his quest, and when he gets an opportunity to tell someone out loud the horrible truth of what he has to do, all of a sudden it's too much for him.

Adrenaline and stress can keep us going through fear and fire and foes for a long time, well past what the body can normally handle. It's when there's an island in the stream, a break, an interlude of safety from ongoing trauma that we collapse. An overtired soul will break eventually under strain, but if it is allowed a reprieve, even a short one, that is when we get some of the sweetest moments of rest.

Faramir says that he should have been chosen in Boromir's place, and that might be true. All the same I'm very glad that it was he that Frodo and Sam met in Ithilien, and not someone less wise.

And good grief am I glad that Frodo and Sam have each other. On this journey they each have only the other as confidant and true friend, paddle in the stream, reminder of what is good and true 🍀

#it's dangerous to go alone take this *hands a hobbit another hobbit*#I'm so serious though isolation is Not good for your brain #maybe if you're like an elite hermit with the mental health of a well loved child but #anyway behold another of my love letters to tenderness. it's important #lotr newsletter #lotrn307 #yall like my stream metaphor 😎 i am perhaps Overfond of those heh

28 notes · View notes

anghraine · 5 months

Text

I got a comment a few days ago (which I'm too lazy to dig up, sorry, esp since its argument is made so frequently) about how Faramir's rejection of the Ring vs Boromir's fall is basically insignificant because he(Faramir) was around it for a brief time while Boromir had to resist it for a protracted period. I've seen that point made a lot, but I'm not convinced tbh.

For one, even if you only consider in-story details, it typically ignores the increasing strength of the Ring over time as it approaches Mount Doom. Faramir didn't have to face a protracted temptation, but he did have to face a more powerful one than Boromir ever did. How the length of time vs intensity compares is pretty debatable, but it's a factor.

But the dismissal of the contrast also just seems a plain resistant reading that ignores (or denies) the treatment of the two incidents by the overall narrative. You can do that (and probably should at certain points), but I think it's important to be upfront about it. The narrative of LOTR pretty blatantly treats Boromir's and Faramir's differing responses as indicative of their underlying characters and not simply a difference in length of exposure etc.

I don't think this is an indictment of Boromir's overall character; he's definitely a heroic person in general (much as Isildur was—the Ring's warping of heroic characters is a major aspect of its function and tragedy). But to argue that Boromir's fall has nothing to do with real flaws the Ring was able to exploit or that Faramir's rejection says nothing significant seems such a rejection of the narrative treatment that I'm just—nah.

And I am a Faramir stan, so my opinion might be suspect, but I do like Boromir a lot. And his fall to the Ring and reclamation of himself after make him much more interesting to me, personally and thematically, than he would otherwise be. Denying its significance to the function of his character and what the book is saying about attitudes to war etc is just ... blah.

Also, this is more headcanon, but I think it's important that in terms of the writing process, Tolkien came up with Faramir after Boromir's fall. Boromir's account at the Council revealing that the vision/riddle came first to Faramir and more often, with the clear suggestion that Faramir was the primary intended recipient and Boromir an acceptable replacement in the long run, was very deliberate. If there's no meaningful difference in the Ring's effect on them, then the reason for the preference for Faramir and active incorporation of him into the dream account becomes a bit baffling.

But the thing is, not just considering Faramir's rejection of the Ring but his overall character, I do think he would have been more suited to the stealth and grinding strain of the Ring than Boromir.

(Yeah, there are some plot complications w/ the alternate scenario, but I think those are pretty easy to overcome and far from an "all would be DOOMED, the dream-sender must have really intended for Boromir to be the one in the Fellowship" scenario.)

Basically, they are very different people, and in the canon scenario, the Ring reveals these differences in ways that are actually important to their characterizations and the concerns of the novel.

#anghraine babbles #anghraine rants #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #faramir #jewel of the seashore #boromir critical #to be safe!#long post #húrinionath

89 notes · View notes

philtstone · 3 months

Note

Eowyn/Faramir, 22

painstakingly continuing my spotify wrapped prompts with yet another bollywood entry from one of my favourite movies #22, "Ankhon Mein Teri" from Om Shanti Om along with you / some light has come anyway, this is my answer to the question, "was their great hobbit cacophany post-kiss on the ramparts?" but in hippie camp counselor au

Eowyn’s hospital room has a very large window that looks out into the darkened waiting room. When she wakes up from her doze, which she was partaking in for lack of anything better to do, her head is turned the other way — and so it is that the first thing she sees in front of her is Faramir.

He is sitting in her bed, right beside her in fact, absorbed in a book. He appears to be wearing borrowed pajamas. Eowyn can feel the warmth from his leg against hers. She blinks a few times to make sure she is not dreaming (not that she has had dreams about Faramir in her bed), and it is then that she is struck by the soreness in her hand and shoulder, and quite honestly much of the rest of her as well.

Oh, right. Their valiant protest in front of the EPA building. Eowyn hadn’t expected to be shoved quite so hard by that SWAT officer, but at least Merry caught it all on video. And she got a great punch in before falling with such indignity on her now very broken arm. She wonders if Merry got that on video too; it’d be useful in the event anyone tries to arrest her for assault.

A large white cast covers her whole right forearm. It isn’t particularly ugly, but it is very empty in its clean whiteness, and looking at it leaves a queer disembodied feeling in the pit of Eowyn's stomach, so she goes back to looking at Faramir.

“What are you reading?”

Of the many questions Eowyn has this is the first that comes to mind. In her general discombobulation the part of her that has lately been engrossed in figuring out Faramir's interests takes the wheel. Of course, it very often does that, but rarely to the point of causing incoherence, which Eowyn is sure she is exhibiting now.

Faramir, who had not noticed her waking, jumps in place.

“Oh! Eowyn!”

“Hullo,” says Eowyn.

“How're you feeling? Should I call for the nurse? I should call for the nurse — here, I’ll call —“

She nudges his leg with hers (this at least is still entirely operational), and that shuts him up. He presses the nurse call button anyway. Eowyn ignores this and offers a pointed look at his literature of choice.

Faramir says, “Well; a philosophy primer. Gandalf gave it to me at the beginning of camp.”

“You mean like,” Eowyn's voice is much raspier than she remembers it, “as homework?”

“No. He said I might like it.” He pauses, then adds with a conviction that might have always been there, but appears a touch more at home in his mouth now, “He was right.”

The green of the borrowed pajama shirt suits him (she is sure it is borrowed, as it is too large at the shoulders — possibly it is Aragorn’s, or even Gandalf’s) and his pants have little Smurfs on them. She stops inspecting his hospital clothes and begins inspecting his face, which is turned towards hers and very earnest about it. He has a terribly comforting face, Faramir has. The overall effect is more subdued than what she’s used to (certainly Eomer’s got a talent for looking a bit shocking), as all her family members are known for both being and looking intense. Faramir is also intense, Eowyn supposes, but in a different way. He’s intense about philosophy primers and whatever poem he’s reading. He’ll make weird faces because he’s so absorbed in it all. His fair hair and eyes are familiar, of course, but the bigness of his nose is softer, his hair browner and floppier, and his facial hair patchy and mousy. He has lovely eyes, Eowyn thinks. A bit like a doe or something.

On whole he is, at this moment, a bit mesmerizing to Eowyn, who has always liked him – and it’s a good job he showed up this summer, and not last, when she was in the throes of her Most Mortifying Unrequited Crush (named thus by Eowyn and Eomer and Merry, in mutual consultation) to date – but she’s never properly thought about it because she was too worried about starting college next year. It’s odd. That doesn’t seem nearly so frightening anymore. Only it isn’t as if Eowyn’s feeling any better about things. After all, maybe she is about to be arrested for assaulting a cop. So what if her love life is marginally less pathetic, and her future plans slightly less immediately in the hands of her deeply flawed decision-making? The next time Uncle Theoden tells her she oughtn’t worry so much about The Real World and to go get her degree so she won’t be stuck with only farming as her option, she won’t have a good argument against him; The Real World has been pretty awful so far.

Eowyn wonders if Faramir would bring his philosophy book and visit her in prison.

She decides she should ask him. Maybe knowing the answer will make her feel better. She hasn’t managed to open her mouth halfway when the door opens and a sturdy looking nurse bustles in.

“Oh, good,” says the nurse industriously. “You’re awake. Not in too much pain are we? I don’t expect so; it was a very clean break.”

“Was it,” asks Eowyn, as her pillows are righted in a bustley sort of way and a cold metal straw is stuck into her open mouth. Her question comes out a bit garbled around the straw.

“Mmm,” the nurse eyes her significantly. Her name tag reads Ioreth in blocky penmanship and includes a little hand drawn smiley face in the corner. Eowyn wonders if she has put that there to counter her extremely brusque and straightforward manner. Don’t you worry; when I’m not shoving eco-friendly straws into your mouth, I draw my own smiley faces, actually! “You’re lucky your friend splinted it so well, or it might’ve moved around on you before the EMTs arrived. Not a medic, is he?”

Eowyn can’t quite tell if her tone is impressed or disapproving.

“He’s thinking of doing herbal medicine MSF,” offers Faramir a bit lamely.

They follow the nurse’s eyes to the big windows of her hospital room, beyond which she is only now registering is a very full waiting room. It was mostly empty when Eowyn last checked, and the sight of it full makes her eyes well up at the back in a very silly and childish way. Closest to the door sits the lanky figure of Aragorn, who indeed set her broken arm and quizzed her on Twilight trivia on the way to the hospital so she wouldn’t fall asleep before being checked for a concussion. He is asleep himself now, but looking like someone does when they didn’t quite mean to doze off, slumped over sitting up with one scruffy cheek propped up against his palm. A pale-faced Frodo is tucked, sleeping more intentionally against his side, with a lumpy bit of gauze covering two of his fingers. Sitting careful guard over them (for all that they are having a friendly chat with a passing nurse and pointing animatedly to something on the familiar lavender-cased iPhone) are Arwen and Sam, who have together been wrapped once in a hospital issue blanket and a second time in Aragorn’s familiar mud-stained jacket. Eomer (whose face is a much bigger comfort than she expected) is wedged into a seat that is much too small for him and rapidly bouncing his left leg while staring determinately at the ceiling. Draped over a lone plastic chair Legolas’s cream cardigan is all that evidences him, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin (who must have taken his Super Mario backpack with him, wherever they are, as she can’t spot it); and if Eowyn listens hard enough, she can hear a man’s unfamiliar, somewhat distressed, definitely disembodied tones from further down the hallway.

While Nurse Ioreth bustles through checking her chart, Eowyn must make some kind of questioning face in Faramir’s general direction, because he says,

“Oh – that’s, um, my brother. Boromir. He came down, after – everything.” By which Eowyn, remembering it all in patchy fits and starts, realizes Faramir must mean the incident where his father flew down from upstate to loudly disown him in front of many strangers and several news reporters (Eowyn was told this all by Merry on the trip to hospital; she’d been in the midst of getting shoved for her not-entirely peaceful protesting when it happened) for squandering his potential trying to do such useless things as saving the environment, instead of securing a future for himself in this dismal and unforgiving world.

For a Very Important Businessman, Denethor seems to have an awful lot of spare time on his hands. He spent a whole half hour elbowing his way through police and news vans and a very distressed eleven year old in the shape of Pippin Took, just to yell at his son.

“Is he alright?” asks Eowyn; the voice in the hallway seems very consternated.

“Who,” says Faramir. “Boromir? Oh, yeah.” He fixes his glasses a bit, which are slipping down his nose, “It’s just that the possum finally bit Frodo, and then we lost it.”

“The collective cool, you mean,” says Eowyn.

“No,” says Nurse Ioreth, definitely disapproving this time. “The possum.”

Faramir grimaces. “It was sort of my fault. That’s why Boromir’s dealing with it — I think he’s trying to make me feel better about Dad. I really am fine though. And Legolas and Gimli took Merry and Pippin to find us all food — wouldn’t it be ironic if they wound up finding the possum instead? Funny how things work though. Everyone’s sort of come together about it so it’s really hard to feel like I'm doing something wrong, no matter what my — what anyone says. I was more worried about you than anything, and Arwen made Eomer sit outside because he kept getting up and sitting back down in here and the nurse got annoyed, so I got to come sit with you instead.”

Ioreth makes a mild tsk noise over her clipboard and Eowyn blinks. It takes all of her willpower not to blurt out You were worried about me? as if that is not the standard fare between friends – camp counselors, even.

Ioreth says, “If you need more pain medication, press the button; you should be out by the end of the day, dear,” and leaves. Eowyn and Faramir watch her, and the unexpected care she takes to close the door quietly so Aragorn and Frodo don’t startle awake, go.

“You’re okay, then,” she says, after a moment.

“Hm? Yeah, I mean – well.” He shrugs. “Dad can be a cynic if he wants. I much prefer the delusional idealism of youth.”

Faramir’s always been better at making jokes than anyone gives him credit for. Even so, Eowyn wonders if she’d count as a cynic or delusional by his count. Here she is, having mentally avoided the topic of College Next Year so determinedly all summer, insisting to herself and Uncle Theoden that she hadn’t decided a major yet because she’d rather participate in The Real World, only for that world to have immediately proven itself terrifying and she, Eowyn, unequipped to deal with it. So she is back at square one, and even less sure of herself than before.

“I’m glad,” she says, and finds she can’t look him properly in the eye but has to instead stare at her purple fingers poking out through the cast. She feels all of a sudden quite miserable, but can’t put it to words.

“It doesn’t hurt too badly, does it?”

She shrugs, like he did. “It’s a bit sore.” Like how I feel, despite how wonderful you are, she doesn’t add. It’s so sappy of her. Eomer would sigh for hours if he knew.

“We’ll get the kids to draw on it. Or Gimli. You can too, if you like.”

“Will you come visit me if I go to prison?” Eowyn asks, suddenly on the verge of tears.

“Obviously yes,” Faramir answers, quite seriously. “But Gandalf’s got all that sorted. None of us are in trouble with the law, thanks to you and Merry’s video.”

“Oh.” The realization is not as much of a relief as Eowyn expected it would be. So now she’s got to go to college next year. And actually know what she wants to do with her life. Oh indeed.

“Which is pretty good actually,” Faramir is continuing, “because I’ve decided to switch into a BA, and I don’t think I’d have been able to do that if we were going to prison.”

She is quiet for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “Everything is very confusing,” she finally manages, in a whisper.

Then, in a way that makes the small breath at the back of Eowyn’s throat catch, Faramir’s free hand slips over the thin hospital bedding and cups itself over her cold and bruised fingers.

“I don't think we’ll be confused forever,” he says, just as quiet as she has been, but on purpose. “I think one day, we’ll wake up, and life will be less scary than it is right now.”

Finally Eowyn turns to look at him again. “At seventeen,” she says, and her voice is a bit watery; Faramir smiles at her. A small little smile.

“Yeah.” His voice cracks with the bit of laughter in it. “At seventeen.”

Eowyn is very unintentionally staring at his mouth. Because of the smile — and also maybe him as a person. She feels a bit of her old determination return, but with much less defensiveness and also her own little smile; she leans over the philosophy primer and their held hands, and kisses Faramir on the mouth.

Her stomach is half filled with butterflies when they are interrupted by the sound of small palms pounding against glass.

“Merry! Merry! Merry look —”

“Don’t interrupt them, Pippin!”

The crow of delight is so loud, and Eomer’s leaping to his feet so sudden, that Aragorn almost falls off his chair startling awake. Eowyn watches through the large window; their movement has made the sensors in the hallway go off, and all the lights turn on. The lights in the waiting room are yellow, like sunshine, and not the dull white of a hospital she was expecting.

“I called it! I knew! I said, Faramir’s got to go sit with her ‘cause he cares so very much, you see, and it’ll make Eowyn feel better.”

“Well Eowyn's my friend first, I’m the one who told you she needed to feel better —“

“Both of you pipe down, as if the rest of us didn’t care —“

“I have a sixth sense, you know. It’s very well tuned to romance and such. Remember Gandalf’s rule about only platonic activities in the break room, on account of what I walked into on our first week of camp –”

“Pippin, I am once again begging you to stop talking.”

“Faramir! Faramir can you hear me! Is she alright, then? We got you Mexican food from the cafeteria. Well, Gimli’s the one who paid for it, but we carried over the tortilla chips –”

And by the time the door is flung open Eowyn and Faramir pounced upon by overexcited tweenagers, she is properly laughing.

#my writing #lord of the rings #eowyn #faramir #eowyn x faramir #farawyn #return of the king #merry brandybuck #pippin took #aragorn #hes there in houses of healing spirit

21 notes · View notes

from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 3 months

Text

Talking about my beloved Háma earlier this week got me thinking again about how Beregond is the Háma of Gondor. One of the ways Tolkien showed us how bound together Gondor and Rohan were as countries was by drawing explicit parallels between individual Gondorians and Rohirrim (like Boromir and Théodred), and it happens for everyone's favorite guards, too. They have some differences (I mean, Háma dies 😭), but they’re much more alike than not.

Most importantly, they’re both soldiers—part of a very hierarchical, duty-bound structure—who nonetheless decide in key moments to disregard orders and follow their own judgment and good sense instead. Háma will let Gandalf violate the ban on weapons in Meduseld and Beregond will leave his post and literally slay anyone facilitating the burning of Faramir because their hearts and minds tell them that sometimes laws must be broken in service of a larger morality. That takes courage, independence of thought, and a strong sense of self. By disobeying, they both knowingly risk punishment—and, indeed, both are punished—but they do it anyway because they know it’s right. And ultimately, both are forgiven and honored because everyone can see they made correct, if unlawful, decisions. (This parallel is also replicated a little further up the respective hierarchies because Éomer and Faramir are also both noted mavericks who choose at pivotal moments to aid members of the Fellowship even though, by law, those outsiders should be arrested or killed. So, again, parallels between pairs of Gondorians and Rohirrim abound!)

I like that Tolkien takes care to show that it’s not just the folks at the very top of communities of Men that can have and display these really admirable and noble traits. It’s important for there to be a Háma and a Beregond so that we know these lands of Men are worth protecting—there is goodness there! And of course it fits very neatly with the “small hands do great deeds” theme of LOTR overall. Háma and Beregond each change the course of history when they trust to their own worth and hold to their own values, no matter the circumstances or consequences.

So that’s the biggest/weightiest parallel for Háma and Beregond, but it’s certainly not the only one. They both work for prestigious military units in the capital city of their countries. They both play formal roles in granting our major characters access to those cities. They’re both firsthand witnesses to the mental manipulation and torment of their leaders (Théoden and Denethor) by an enemy. They both get joyful moments witnessing the healing of a beloved lord. They’re both Gandalf enthusiasts in places where not everyone respects or welcomes Gandalf’s presence. They both demonstrate a willingness to draw swords on anyone they perceive as threatening their lords. They’re both pretty adept at rolling with it when things take a really weird turn (I mean, really, the legendary lost heir of Elendil shows up on Háma’s doorstep claiming to be friends with a mythical elf-sorceress, and he just goes with it. And Beregond has never seen a hobbit before and maybe isn’t even sure they’re real when one is thrust on him, and he immediately makes Pip his buddy!).

Those are the canon parallels, but I would be remiss if I didn’t finish by specifying that @brigwife and I agree it is rock solid head canon that Háma and Beregond met somehow and became actual long distance best friends. It’s only natural that they’d get along given how much they have in common—just two absolute gems of the race of Men who would totally love and appreciate one another. And I’d like to think that even as Háma’s legacy is commemorated at his resting place in Rohan, there’s also a little memorial for him in Gondor built by Beregond in a beautiful, peaceful part of Ithilien. During Beregond’s lifetime it stands as a tribute to his enduring friendship with Háma, and in later days, when anyone who knew them is gone, it stands instead as a tribute to the enduring friendship of Gondor and Rohan.

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #rohan #gondor #háma #hama #beregond #guards and brothers #rulebreakers and freethinkers #if you know anything about how i feel about háma #you know what a compliment this comparison is to beregond

19 notes · View notes