#morwen of gondor

[merilles]

@lotrladiessource lotr ladies week day 4: women of the south | courage | parallels

éowyn, lady of the shield-arm and princess of rohan with my OC morwen, daughter of húrin (warden of the keys) and healer in the houses of healing! both are noblewomen of countries in peril, threatened by the enemy and forced to confront the horrors of war. éowyn disguises herself as dernhelm and rides to seek death, while morwen dons armour to administer to the wounded during the battle of the pelennor. they would grew close in friendship after, recovering from their injuries together in the houses of healing.

#lotrladiesweek #tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #legendarium ladies #gondor #rohan #eowyn #oc #tolkien oc #lotr oc #oc: morwen #art #fanart #oc art #my art #merilles

[anghraine]

I love the Númenóreans for a lot of reasons (peak problematic faves!), but a big one is how much they love the Edain.

#anghraine babbles #legendarium blogging #'we also are daughters of the great' is about living up to the legacy of the edain #númenóreans in gondor still name their kids húrin or morwen #not only do they not forget what they come from they think it's fantastic #elrond pretty evidently can't think of greater praise than comparisons to beren and túrin #(yes he counts as númenórean for these purposes) #i'm really fond of edain and every time i see a thing about how the silm is about elves behaving badly #part of my mind is like 'uhhhh what about the edain' #beren and narn and akallabêth erasure!!! and plenty of other things too! #so it is nice that in-story my fave people are like 'the edain were important and awesome actually' #legendarium fanwank #team edain #team dúnedain

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Favourite Female Tolkien Character Poll - Round 3 Schedule!

We’re on Round 3! Here are the matchups, with several ‘section finals’ (i.e. the top two female characters within a defined group squaring off against each other). Polls start tomorrow.

The winners of each day’s two polls will go on to face each other in Round 4 (except for the Sindar poll, whose winner will go on directly to the quarterfinals/Round 5). Éowyn has also advanced directly to the quarterfinals after winning the previous 2 rounds against other women of Rohan - I didn’t feel it would be fair to any other character to pit them against her this early.

Thursday August 31st: Finwëan Women

Nerdanel vs Galadriel

Eärwen vs Anairë

Friday September 1st: First-Age Edain Women

Haleth vs Hareth

Morwen vs Nienor

Saturday September 2nd: Sindarin Women

Lúthien vs Nellas - Section Final!

Sunday September 3rd: Númenorean and Gondorian Women

Tar-Ancalimë vs Tar-Míriel - Section Final: Númenorean Women!

Berúthiel vs Ioreth - Section Final: Women of Gondor!

Monday September 4th: Valar, Maiar, and Monsters

Nienna vs Vairë - Section Final: Valier!

Melian vs Ungoliant

Tuesday September 5th: Hobbit and Dwarf Women

Dís vs Pearl Took

Belladonna Took vs Rosie Cotton

If you do not see your favourite character here, they may still have a chance! There will be one wild card entrant to the quarterfinals, chosen from a poll of the 10-12 losing characters who had the most votes

Here’s the full bracket, with the results of past rounds.

#favourite female tolkien character poll #tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #history of middle earth #nerdanel #galadriel #earwen #anaire #haleth #hareth #morwen #nienor #noldor #finweans #sindar #edain #numenoreans #gondor #hobbits #valar #maiar

[sirioniel]

Morwen of Lossarnach, also called Steelsheen, descended from the Princes of Dol Amroth and became Queen Consort to King Thengel of Rohan. Unfortunately Tolkien doesn't say much about her.

Besides this quote Tolkien writes that Éowyn bears a resemblence to her grandmother Morwen and their shared Gondorian ancestry.

J.R.R. Tolkien: The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, the House of Eol.

Illustration by W. Heath Robinson.

Published in: The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. London/ New York 1900.

#tolkien #j. r. r. tolkien #lotr #the lord of the rings #quote #thengel #morwen of lossarnach #morwen steelsheen #lotr appendix a #gondor #eowyn #w. heath robinson #illustration #rohan #house of eol #women in lotr #women in tolkien's writing #women in tolkien's universe

[dalleyan]

Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR stories, Manners, ch 2 posted, 3-4-23)

Morwen is irked by a persistent suitor, who isn’t at all what she has in mind for a husband.  (Romance, Drama, Family)

 Manners  -  Chapter 2

Morwen had been home from Minas Tirith for three days.  Though she could have done without the tedious journey between cities, she had thoroughly enjoyed visiting Gondor.  Well, except for that awful man.

By Gondorian standards, Edoras was still on the provincial side, and she loved the glamour and excitement afforded by a place such as Minas Tirith.  There were more interesting shops, more things to do and she always enjoyed spending time with her relatives in that part of Middle-earth. 

Perhaps one day she would move there, even marry a man from Gondor. With one  notable exception, the men she had met there were far more sophisticated and appealing than those of the nobility in Edoras. True, she would not like being so far away from her family, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.  She was certain she would marry well, and they would be able to visit home often even if her husband was from Gondor.

Rising, she meandered toward her parents' chamber.  She found her mother putting away clean clothes, and she sprawled on her stomach across their bed as she watched silently for a moment.

After several moments of observation, she announced, “I want my marriage to be like yours.”

Her mother turned to eye her questioningly.  “What, in particular, do you mean?”

“Oh, everything.  I want us to laugh and tease each other like you and Papa do.  I never want us to stop holding hands and kissing and being romantic.  I want us never to argue or disagree.  That sort of thing.”

Lothiriel placed the last few shirts in a drawer, and then stepped over to sit down beside her daughter. “Those things do not just happen by themselves.  Do you know why our marriage is like that?”

Morwen rolled over on her back to gaze thoughtfully at her mother, finally answering, “No, I suppose I do not.”

“We hold hands and kiss and are still romantic because we love each other, today just as much as when we were married.  And we make a point of letting the other person know that we still feel that way. We laugh and tease each other because we trust the other person not to do it mean-spiritedly, and we are certain of their love for us.  We learned how to laugh and tease together before we ever married and it has simply continued on.” 

“All of the things you have mentioned as admiring do not come by chance.  We choose for them to be that way, and put our effort into making them so.  Our only thought is for the other person’s happiness, and we are willing to sacrifice to accomplish it.  We choose not to be selfish, whenever possible.  If you would have a similar marriage, you and your husband would have to make that same commitment to each other.  What you see does not come without a cost,” Lothiriel told her. 

Lothiriel paused there and considered the final point her daughter had made.  At length, she added, “We do argue and disagree, but not often. And it does not last long because we do not wish it to.  We look to compromise, we make an effort to work things out in a manner we both can live with.  We agree on so much because we choose to agree.  We choose to end arguments by giving in.  We believe it is more important to give in than to insist on being right.”

She paused a moment, then added softly, “Your father is a man used to coming out the victor in any conflict, and one would expect him to be the same in arguments.  Perhaps he is in politics, but it is humbling to me to know that he loves me so much, he would rather yield to my wishes than make me unhappy.  He would rather lose the argument than lose me.  And because he loves me that much, I dare not trample on his feelings and treat them callously.  Even when I win the argument, I try to make him feel as though he shares in my victory, for I have no desire to best him.  I would sacrifice all things to keep him at my side, even my own happiness, because he is what gives me my greatest happiness.  That would be lost if he was lost to me, and I could never recover from it.”

Morwen considered what her mother had said, then commented, “You make it look so easy, yet it sounds so difficult.”

Lothiriel rose and leaned over to press a kiss to her daughter’s brow.  “Not if you let your heart choose your actions, instead of your pride.”

As Lothiriel exited the room, Morwen contemplated her words.  Surely there was another man such as her father, with whom she could have a similar marriage.  Unbidden, the image of Caranhir came to mind and she gave a smirk.  She doubted very much he would ever be that kind of husband!  He would likely be domineering and bossy, always insisting everything was done his way!  Yet another reason to reject him!

She gave a frustrated moan; why was she even thinking about that terrible troll?  She was free of him now, and would never see him again.  She didn't care who he married, so long as it wasn't her!  Rising with determination, she forced him from her thoughts and returned to her own room to finish a tunic she had been working on.

No matter what, it was good to be home.

 continue reading on AO3:

              https://archiveofourown.org/works/45436576/chapters/114479491

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Lord of the Rings #Elfwine Chronicles #LOTR #Morwen daughter of Eomer & Original Male Character #Original Gondor Characters #Elfwine #Theomund #Dariel

[imakemywings]

do you have any good female fics to rec?

DO I. LOL. Putting this immediately under a cut because there are a lot! There are so many talented writers in this fandom who do ENORMOUS justice to female characters, both original and book-based. Couple of blog recs at the bottom too!

(I'm assuming this is asking for Tolkien fanfic since that's mostly what I'm on about these days, but if you'd rather see Mass Effect or Dragon Age I can do that too.)

I'm glad you asked! φ(*￣0￣)

I'm going to keep all of these to 1 rec per author just so we don't get totally out of control here.

Forging Gold by @swanmaids ft. Curufin's wife, Dwarf OCs. Heather is an amazing source of female character fic in this fandom; she has well-developed OCs for all of Feanor's daughters-in-law and treats canon female characters with such care and love. Absolutely recommend checking out the rest of her stuff!

Prick a Finger, Cut Your Hand by @welcomingdisaster ft. Indis, Miriel. A really great look at the dynamic between these two. Lena has lots of other good takes on female Tolkien characters too!

Friendship and Stern Demand by @polutrope ft. Elwing. Fantastic exploration of what the communications between Elwing and Maedhros might have looked like!

Untitled by @outofangband ft. Aerin, Morwen. Nelyo focuses a lot on the human characters so if you want to read more about what the mortal women went through in the First Age, definitely browse through their blog!

Abide, Abound by Elleth ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Elleth also has lots of works centering on female Tolkien characters.

And by their blazing signify that a great princess falls, but doth not die by TheLionInMyBed ft. Elwing. One of my favorite takes on Elwing's suicide.

Keeper of Kings by batshape ft. Lalwen. What did Lalwen get up to in Middle-earth? Seeing a lot of people die, for one thing.

Into the Heart of a Fey Thing by @amethysttribble ft. Aredhel, Galadriel, Luthien. Fun "behind-the-scenes" look at some adventures with these three!

A Fish Hook, an Open Eye by simaetha ft. Elwing, f!Maglor. Fascinating AU take on a meeting between Elwing and Maglor prior to the Third Kinslaying.

The Sleep of Flowers by Innin ft. Galadriel, Melian. Very beautiful scene, and plenty of other female-centric works by Innin!

Light Words About Nothing by Margo_Kim ft. Dis, Belladonna. I ship it.

Elwing's Strategy by lifeisyetfair ft. Elwing. Another great take on Elwing at the Third Kinslaying.

Out of Dreams, Into the Sun by solanaceae ft. Miriel, Indis.

Games and Fantasy by Genesis_Grey ft. Arwen, Eowyn. Ohh it captures that chivalric WLW so well.

Over the Unclear Eyes of Memory by Loriand_Lost ft. Anaire, Aredhel. Addresses Anaire's complicated feelings about Fingolfin's return to Valinor. This author also has a number of other great female-centric fics, highly recommend!

The Carriage Held but Just Ourselves by @starspray ft. Luthien, Elwing, Arwen. Amazing look at the line of Thingol's relationship with death. This author also has a whole series on Lalwen and an OFC!

Before the Breath of Storm by tinnurin ft. Dis, Dwarf OC. "Behind-the-scenes" look at the Dwarves before the battle of Azanulbizar.

This Now, This Us by crownlessliestheking ft. Indis, Miriel. Indis and Miriel talk after Miriel's return to Valinor.

The Tapestry by Zdenka ft. Thedowyn, Miriel. The ghost of Miriel Serinde offers some aid. This author also has a lot of female-centric works!

Not Undevoted by SatiricalDraperies ft. Galadriel, Melian.

Winter Sea by Tallulah ft. Finduilas, OFC. Finduilas had a girlfriend in the Falas. Another author with a great selection of female-centric works.

The Hunt by @cuarthol ft. Amarie. Amarie is trans and closeted in Valinor, but Finrod understands.

Come Home to Chaos (Get a Crush on a Queen) by ncfan ft. Arwen, Firiel. When Firiel of Gondor takes refuge in Rivendell, Arwen takes an interest.

Do I Hurt to Hold? by Anonymous ft. Galadriel, Melian. A darker look at their relationship.

That Time Elanor Gardner Had A Crush On Her Employer by Anonymous ft. Arwen, Elanor.

All My Shadows Fade by amyfortuna ft. Arwen, OFC. Unsent letter from a female friend of Arwen's as her wedding to Aragorn approaches. This author is also a good one to look at for more female-centric fic!

Orlaya by yeaka ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Cute!

Of All the Stars, the Fairest by whatiwouldnotgive ft. Arwen, Eowyn.

Or They Would Go On Aching Still by Farasha ft. Arwen, Tauriel. Oh, the grief!

Berrypicking Time by swamp_diamonds ft. Finduilas, Nienor.

Things They Don't Talk About by eris_of_imladris ft. Findis. Findis and Feanor have a complicated relationship.

Easily Sever What Never was One by vauquelin ft. Haleth. If you like Halenthir at all as a ship, you'll like this.

The One With All The Birds by clothono ft. Elwing, Nerdanel. I've said it before I'll say it again--my favorite Elwing fic.

Greensleeves by bravelittlscrib ft. Nerdanel. Little scenes of Nerdanel's life and her relationships.

Emerie by the_artifice_of_eternity ft. Erendis, Ancalime. Ancalime's last visit with her mother before taking the throne.

In the Family by arriviste ft. Celebrian, Galadriel.

At the Water's Edge by crackinthecup ft. Elwing, Idril.

And that's what I've got for you right now, I hope that helps! I would also advise checking out the blogs @tolkien-heroines and @sapphictolkien both of which focus on female characters in Tolkien's work. Happy reading, anon! ♪(^∇^*)

#asks #anonymous #mine

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Quarterfinal

Urwen vs Eldacar of Gondor

Urwen:

Also known as Lalaith, she was the elder daughter of Húrin and Morwen and died age three of the Evil Breath from Angband.

MY SWEET LAUGHING DAUGHTER SHE DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER

In response to her death, Hurin says this "Marrer of Middle-earth, would that I might see you face to face, and mar you as my lord Fingolfin did!' His love and subsequent loss of her is definitely a motivator, I think, for his later valiant defiance of Morgoth! So she may have died young but she had a big impact. (I mean if we want to apply the butterfly effect she kinda caused the fall of Nargothrond: motivated Hurin to deny Morgoth, got Turin cursed to give really bad advice about bridges, no more Nargothrond.  How many 3 year olds could claim that? Also more seriously, a lot of the deaths in the Silm are violent and awful. But we little of mundane, quiet deaths from sickness. A young child dying in this way stands out in its more realist tragedy. And it shows the subtler ways Morgoth sowed despair in middle earth and also that he knew the Edain were a threat. The 'evil breath' mostly killed 'the children or the rising youth in the houses of Men.'

Eldacar of Gondor:

The twenty-first King of Gondor, also known as Vinitharya. During his reign the conflict known as the Kin-strife occurred and he was forced from his throne for ten years.

The blorbo of all time actually. He’s the protagonist of one of the most interesting stories in the LoTR appendices, the Kin-strife, and everything about his life story is so fascinating! His father was the crown prince of Gondor and his mother was the princess of Rhovanion so not a Númenorean. As a result all the racist nobles of Gondor made noises about how Eldacar was of “lesser race” and wouldn’t live as long as a “true Dúnadan”. One of the most fascinating examples of fantasy racism in Tolkien’s works imo – the bigotry is awful but the bigots have a shield to hide behind! Obviously their concerns are actually valid because they just don’t want their king to die young! (Their concerns aren’t valid. But I think the worldbuilding here is great.) Anyway Eldacar was born in Rhovanion and given the birth-name Vinitharya, but when he returned to Gondor aged five he was obliged to take up the Quenya name Eldacar, presumably to pacify all the racists in Gondor. He’s the EMBODIMENT of mixed-race/immigrant child trauma my beloved. Eventually his father died and he ascended to the throne of Gondor, but then his shitty second cousin Castamir (all my homies hate Castamir he’s the worst) started the civil war known as the Kin-strife and usurped Eldacar’s throne. Eldacar was forced to flee north to Rhovanion but Castamir captured his eldest son Ornendil and had him cruelly put to death which is SO SAD. But Eldacar, being brave and resourceful and clever and extremely cool, put together an alliance with his mother’s kinsfolk in Rhovanion and after ten years reclaimed his throne, which turned out to be slightly easier than expected because Castamir was The Worst and all his subjects hated him. And Eldacar PERSONALLY fought and killed Castamir HIMSELF and AVENGED HIS SON which is extremely important when you consider all the cringefail elves in the legendarium whose quests for revenge didn’t really go anywhere at all. Then he lived to be 235 proving that all the idiot racists who were worried about his lifespan didn’t have any idea what they were talking about, as is par for the course with racists. Also the Kin-strife itself has such far-reaching consequences for the history of Gondor! The Corsairs of Umbar, Gondor’s long-standing enemies, are actually followers of the descendants of Castamir. And during the Usurpation of Castamir Osgiliath was sacked and burned, leading to the beginning of its decline as Gondor’s greatest city. Even though Eldacar’s story is, to me, ultimately hopeful, it’s also such a fascinating turning point in the history of Gondor. Also ALSO he’s explicitly surrounded by textual ghosts which is really fascinating. His father Valacar has “children” plural – so Eldacar had siblings!! What were they like? How did they react to it all? And his son Aldamir is described as Eldacar’s second son and third child, meaning that he had a daughter too. Who was she?? What happened to her? He’s such a blorbo and there’s so much interesting stuff to dig into around him and he has to win this entire tournament please please please❤️

Quarterfinals masterpost

#obscure tolkien blorbo #urwen #eldacar #hi um this may come as a surprise but. it would mean a lot to me if you voted eldacar <3 #queuevienen

[asgardianhobbit98]

Of Kings, Crowns and Love (Thorin Spring Forge 2024 Entry)

accompanying art piece by @koyunsoncizeri here!! 😭🩷🩷🩷 it's gorgeous!

Summary: Thorin hears of Rohan’s king’s death, and how his son, moving back home from Gondor, is about to be crowned the new king of Rohan. Normally, Dwarves keep themselves out of the business of men. But something is stirring in the North, something dark and evil that seems to be connected to Gundabad and the fell lands of the East... and having some extra allies is not bad (as he’s learned on his quest to retake Erebor). 

The King under the Mountain officially invites himself to the crowning of King Thengel, where he meets not just Thengel and a mysterious man called Thorongil, but also the new king’s sisters. Falling head over heels for the oldest of the two sisters, Thorin finds himself no longer on just a political mission, but also one of love. 

Fandom: The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield / original female character

Tags: everybody lives AU, Dragon Sickness, PTSD, First Love, Courting, First Kiss, Romance, Love Letters, Baking

Word Count: around 9157

Notes: I want to thank the lovely moderators from @thorinsspringforge for this event and the support they offered us all! This was so much fun :3

I also want to give a HUGE shoutout to my artist @koyunsoncizeri who created something so so beautiful (please go check out their art piece for this fic and reblog and give it love!!), which helped inspire me to keep writing when I struggled!! Their talent and kindness knows no bounds! Thank you love 🩷

AO3 link to the TSF24 collection

AO3 link to my entry but you can also read the full thing in this post

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane

Part 1: The Coronation, Interrupted

Flower petals moved through the air like a gorgeous spring rain. Puddles of colours lay on the floor already. The people must have picked clean huge fields of flowers just for this very occasion, the newly ascended King thought to himself as he stared out over the sea of colours and smiles.  

They would do such a thing too, for him. For today was a joyous and important day in the Kingdom of Rohan. Their wayward and lost prince, Thengel, had returned to take over the crown since his father’s passing. There were, in other words, not just one thing to celebrate, but two.

The crown, heavier than it looked both with burden and physical weight, rested atop his long, golden hair whilst he smiled at unknown faces that saw not him, but his father; who clapped not for him, but for their own relief at no longer being without king; who were happy not for his return, but for their own leadership not disappearing with the life of their previous king.

The colours, the beautiful sight of the petals, was all loathsome to Thengel. He had had a nice life in Gondor. Why, oh why, did his father have to die so soon? He’d hoped to die in some battle before him. But here he was, forced to take the crown because his annoying brothers had skipped town the second they heard their father was on his deathbed.

No one wanted this bloody crown, heavy as it was in so many ways… No one but potentially the faces smiling back at him now. He knew no one. He trusted even fewer people.

Aside from… Morwen. His beautiful wife, stood next to him bearing an equally as heavy crown. Yet, she seemed to carry it with ease. Her beauty, her love, her kindness… They, Thengel thought to himself, were going to be what ruled Rohan. And Morwen, his dear beloved darling, would do it too, even if she would rather spend her time with their children: Theoden and Theodis.

Just as they were going to sit down and start the feast and be one step closer to ending this dreadful day, the large doors to the hall opened. A wind gushed through the place, forcing the petals to blow away from the feasts, some falling into the large beacons of fire to shrivel into ash…

A silence fell over the hall, every gaze turned toward the doors now wide open...

Dwarves.

Uninvited Dwarves. Six of them too!

Slowly, the leader, the one and only Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, slayer of Smaug the Terrible, and defeater of Azog the Defiler, moved through the hall and up toward the thrones. He avoided all gazes sent his way, walking with intent, determined steps, and with a look on his face that was anything but kind, at least in the eyes of the humans.

“I thought Dwarves were meant to have longer beards-“ With a quick, reprimanding tug at her nephew’s shirt, Maerwyn silenced Theoden’s whispers which were far too loud to be called whispers in all honesty. She stood together with her niece and nephew to the side of the thrones, watching everything play out from the sidelines, yet with equal curiosity as Morwen and Thengel.

Maerwyn, sister to Thengel and born with the same beauty and blonde hair, had been in Gondor with her brother almost her entire life. She mourned her father quite little, having never known him. Thengel was more her father than anyone else.

Thorongil, their mutual, closest friend, stood to her side too, looking amused by Theoden’s words. As a friend and not Theoden’s family, the ranger didn’t have to reprimand the child. So he winked at Theoden, rendering Maerwyn reprimand useless, of course.

Theodis, at an age now that her mischievous brother embarrassed her as she wanted to be as graceful and grown up as her mother, glared at Theoden.  

Once the six Dwarves reached the front, they each took a bow, staying down on one knee.

“We come to pay our respects to the new King of Rohan,” Thorin spoke. He, crownless as he was (and rumor had it he never wore his crown either), had a face everyone knew. He did not have to introduce himself. And he apparently wasn’t going to either.

Maerwyn glanced to Thorongil. As the older (though he didn’t look it) and wiser out of the two, she wanted to see what his reaction was to Thorin’s own invite to the occasion. He looked suspicious, but mainly surprised. Indeed, the ranger was right to be surprised. The Dwarves, as good of an ally as they could be, weren’t known to so openly approach Men for any sort of diplomatic meeting. This… well, this was certainly a surprise.

As Thorin raised his head to speak, his gaze flickered over to Maerwyn for a split second and she felt her heart do a somersault. No one had told her that the great Thorin Oakenshield was so… handsome.

“We come bearing gifts to rekindle a friendship between their people.” The Dwarves stood, upon which two younger Dwarves and one much older rounded Thorin to bow in front of the king and queen, presenting three boxes each. “Myrr from the people of Esgaroth. An embroidered Rohirrim symbol on a tapestry from the merchants of Erebor. As well as a divine set of new bracers and a dagger from the Dwarven smithies of Erebor. You could wish for no finer equipment, I can assure you,” Thorin spoke.

Morwen smiled and graciously bowed to accept the gifts.

Thengel, however… “So you have come to rekindle something ancient, indeed.” It sounded for a second as if this was his way of dismissing the Dwarves and denying a rekindling of allyship. But then: “Welcome.” And with that, Thengel sat down, with Morwen in tow, and the people in Edoras Hall continued to cheer.

The feast was grand. Tables laced with meat, mead, cakes and everything one could have hoped for had been prepared by servants for days before this, and it all looked as perfect as they’d hoped it would turn out to be. Before long, the lutes from bards filled the Golden Hall’s entire air with joyous music. People sung, danced, drank and ate to their heart’s content. It was a merry occasion once more.

The Dwarves stayed in their corner. All apart for Thorin’s nephews, who had found their way into the crowd of Men to sing and dance alongside them with ease. They’d found Theoden and Theodis, and had danced with the little children for a while before Morwen had sent them to bed. Now they were merrymaking with the adults instead.

The older Dwarves seemed less inclined to mingle or mix with the strangers. And it showed in their way of glaring and mumbling to each other each time someone had the ‘audacity’ of glancing their way or coming a little too close to their corner.

Thengel, watching his people’s merrymaking from the sidelines with a cup of untouched mead in his hand, found it only making him distrust these Dwarves’ intentions more.

“You look troubled, my friend.” Thorongil had appeared by Thengel’s side. “As new King, you should not have those frown lines on your face just yet. Leave that for your first duties.” A joke. But Thengel was far from a joking mood.

“They want something…” he muttered quietly. His gloves squeaked as he closed one hand into a fist. “I just know it. It’s just like those nobles in Gondor, Thorongil. They want things from me because I have power.”

Thorongil didn’t react at first, simply listening to the grumbling of his old friend. “Did I want something from you?”

Thengel scoffed. “No, but you are different.”

“Perhaps they are different too?”

Thengel narrowed his eyes at them, especially Thorin Oakenshield. Maybe he didn’t don his crown, but a crown he had. A whole kingdom that looked up to him and marvelled at his power. What could he possibly want from Rohan? Nothing good… It couldn’t be anything good…

Part 2: The Feast

Moving through the crowd, Maerwyn approached the Dwarves standing in their corner of the room. Her hands cupped a chalice of red wine, but it was not the reason for her seamless movement through the crowd. They parted for her, bowing respectfully. She was now no longer the daughter of the King. She was the sister of the King. Yet, that was not the reason for people to part for her so quickly and respectfully. Her importance to the kingdom had not changed. But rather, she, herself, was put on a pedestal by all who saw her, it seemed.

This, Thorin noticed as he caught sight of the woman approaching them. Her green eyes flickered between the vessel in her hands, and him, letting Thorin know her intent. Curious, he’d watched her, long since forgetting about the conversation at hand between his fellow Dwarves. Dwalin and Ori seemed oblivious to it. Balin was not, watching Thorin and Maerwyn’s looks to each other with curious dismay.

“It’s not worth it, Thorin-“ Maerwyn had interrupted a conversation as she approached, blinking innocently at Dwalin with an unsaid apology, to which the Dwarf only glared.

There was a moment in which Dwalin wanted to push forward and place himself in front of Thorin protectively, but Thorin was quick to stop that with a single hand gesture. Instead, he stepped forward to greet Maerwyn with a bow.

Maerwyn couldn’t tell whether Thorin had done so to be kind to the sister of the King Thorin clearly wanted something from, or whether Thorin truly had meant his kind greeting.

Approaching guests was unlike her. She stayed in the background, sister to great men, daughter to Kings, doomed to be of a gender that was given little space or power in the Kingdoms of Men. Yet here she was, approaching guests of the King, her brother, without a care in the world. Confidence bloomed through her body, driven on only by the pure infatuation with this one Dwarf’s attractive face, curious whether the Dwarf’s heart might be as attractive too.

“My lady..?” Thorin asked politely.

“Maerwyn,” she replied. “King Thengel’s sister.” She curtsied politely before offering the cup she was cradling in her hands.

Thorin looked confused. She smiled. He smiled. “It is an offer of kinship and generosity to share wine from the same cup.”

“And who else has drunk from this?” Thorin asked curiously, though his voice held a little edge to it.

Maerwyn blushed. “Me.”  

Spurred on by this answer, it seemed, Thorin reached out and took a long sip, lips lingering on the cup as his eyes found hers… with intent. She watched with wide eyes, her blush gone but not because she was not feeling something. Rather, she was too surprised by the Dwarf’s obvious meaning to allow herself to feel anything-  

Then before she could say or do anything else, Thengel’s hand suddenly touched her shoulder.

She was silently goaded to leave, and so she did, her head lowered but a smile playing on her lips.

“You seem happy.” Thorongil said as he walked with her through the crowd.

Surprised he had approached her, Maerwyn nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve never met a man with such reputation.”

“Yes, reputation,” Thorongil said with a little glint to his eyes. “I am sure his reputation was what just motivated you to act.”

She blushed.

“Be careful, my lady,” Thorongil added quickly. “He is a man who has seen much, been through even more, and whose heart is darker than it seems.”

“I see darkness,” Maerwyn was quick to say, as if defending her own choices. Though, she knew, that one needn’t defend one’s choices to Thorongil. He was kinder than most: a man who had seen much and been through more. A man who, perhaps, could understand Thorin better than most. “But I don’t only see darkness. He can get out of it.”

“Few can.”

“Indeed.” Maerwyn put the cup down and gave Thorongil a pointed look. “Sometimes, with a little help, a person can do surprisingly much.”

Thorongil bowed his head. “Just be careful. You’ve only just met.”

Thengel watched Maerwyn and Thorongil walk away for a little bit before turning his gaze to Thorin. “Few dare come uninvited to a Coronation of an unallied King.”

“Yet here I am,” Thorin replied.

“Here you are…” Thengel said, pretending to ignore the three Dwarves behind Thorin tensing up, ready to step in and help. “Might we speak in private? Outside, perhaps, on the balcony?” Before Thorin could even respond, Thengel was already leading the way through the crowds. With a look back at Balin, Dwalin and Ori, Thorin offered a disgruntled look at Thengel’s behaviour, before following the new King.

The balcony was positioned to offer a view of the vast fields that made up Rohan. Hills upon hills of green grass that had sickened into a beige colour now that autumn was here.

Far, far away, the outlines of mountains surrounded them. Helm’s Deep, Thorin recalled from his studies, was somewhere there. Among many Rohirrim dark secrets one needed to pass to get to the lands of Gondor the quickest.

Thorin had to admit that the vast openness of the lands of Men made him uncomfortable. Sometimes, Thorin thought to himself, when he stepped out of Erebor, he thought the Sky would fall down on him, or that he himself would float up toward it. It was strange not to have anything above his head.

So whilst he could understand how this was a beautiful view, he didn’t quite share in admiring it the way Thengel was.

Though, something told Thorin that Thengel was merely biding his time so he could gather his thoughts and speak his mind without… offending Thorin too much. A bitterness surrounded Thengel. No man should be too overjoyed by a crown burdening their shoulders, or they would become bad kings, but this much bitterness revealed more anger than a king should have.

“You come here… uninvited,” Thengel began, repeating what he’d said earlier but with agitation in his voice. Thorin joined the man by the railing of the balcony, eyes only just managing to peak over at the view. He tried to stare at it to keep his mind at peace, to try and listen rather than see what Thengel was feeling. To anyone who might catch a glimpse of them, it didn’t look like there was any tension between the two. But oh… there was. “And you demand things of me.”

“Demand?” Thorin asked, astounded and surprised. “I merely wish for a fellowship between our people.”

“Fellowship… Wish…” Thengel grunted under his breath. “People always want things from me. It is never a courtesy call.”

“The burden of a king-“

“The burden of Thengel,” he was quick to interrupt and correct, glancing down to the Dwarf beside him. Thorin raised his chin, eyes curious, and also slightly annoyed at being cut off. “No man ever simply speaks to me. I was and will always be my father’s youngest son, destined to bring news to him of lords and ladies who did good deeds and who would like, very much, to be invited to his court. I escaped to Gondor to try and find peace. Yet it was only worse.”

Thorin understood his meaning. “And now you are back here.”

“And with only more people demanding things from me.”

“I demand nothing,” Thorin tried to reassure him. “I merely wish-“

“Wishing is the lordly way of demanding, is it not?” Thengel muttered. He turned to face Thorin, eyes crueller than they had need to be in this situation. But his trauma spoke for itself, taking control over Thengel in this moment. And quite honestly, out of everyone to understand that, Thorin would be highest on the list. His past did not come without its fair share of trauma. To remain King under the Mountain meant dealing with the Dragon Sickness that never quite faded, a constant vicarious battle between reality and his own demise. Yet, he couldn’t say anything to help Thengel.

Because Thorin’s belief was that there was no one who could help Thorin but Thorin himself. And therefore, there was no one who could help Thengel but Thengel.

“I will think on it.” Thengel interrupted what had turned into a really long silence where both Kings had stared into each other’s eyes. “But I guarantee nothing.”

Then, with a sigh, Thengel waved his hand and offered Thorin and his company a place to stay whilst they recuperated, and to enjoy the feasts and blah blah… The man was done with niceties. He was no fit for a king, but there also was no sight of any of his brothers. No one, it seemed, wanted the crown.

As Thengel left Thorin’s side, Thorin thought hard on Thengel’s words. A troubled man, indeed. But not without cause. If only Thorin had the communication skills to offer his sympathies, but he had a feeling nothing would come of it but two stubborn men butting heads. He wished, for a split second, that his dear friend Bilbo might be there by his side to do the talking for him. Alas, he was enjoying a peaceful life in the Shire, away from politics and kings.

Good.

The Hobbit deserved as much.

“He is troubled, he means no harm.” The voice surprised Thorin, who turned and watched that curious ranger who seemed to be in the shadows during this feast, yet stand beside Thengel on his throne, approach him instead on the balcony. Hands behind his back, rugged black clothes and cape hiding a toned body, Thorongil remained a mystery to Thorin.

“And who are you?” Thorin asked, his voice a little too pointed to call it a kind question.

“Thorongil is the name people seem to use.”

“Yet it is not your name?” Thorin asked with a furrow brow of annoyance. It was a normal question to ask. Why not answer it?

Thorongil stayed quiet, an amused look appearing on his face. He pretended to watch the view as well. Men really were fascinated by these green open hills, weren’t they? Thorin doubted they’d offer his halls the same admiration, as cruel as that sounded.

“How do you know Thengel?” Thorin asked instead.

“We met in Gondor. We fought together during battles at the borders of Mordor.” Thorin’s spine shivered at the mention of that foul place. “We became friends, I suppose. I never asked much of him.”

There was something in his words that made Thorin tilt his head.

“It seems to be the way to his heart,” Thorongil added. He glanced down at Thorin with a pointed look.

“You mean to tell me I should simply not ask anything of him? Have no purpose for being here? And what, leave without an allyship?”

“Your purpose would be to welcome a new king to your neighbouring realm.” Thorongil gave Thorin a pointed look. “Support will take you a long way, Thorin Oakenshield. I suggest, for now…” Thorongil turned to glance over his shoulder. When Thorin did, he’d only caught sight of Maerwyn’s dress flowing as she rushed away. “For now, you simply enjoy the company.” With a knowing look, Thorongil left Thorin alone.

Men were confusing. Worse than Elves, it seemed.

These were going to be some long days spent in their company.

Part 3: Early Mornings, Baking and Courting – All Somehow Wrapped in One

The festivities died down a long time ago. Yet, Thorin could only hear noise. Noise from his own mind.

He tossed and turned in his bed, far too big for a Dwarf to begin with. He felt like he was being swallowed by some deep dark hole that would drown him in screams and anguish and growls and pain and dragons and gold-

Thorin sat up with a sigh, rubbing the thoughts and the gold away from his eyeballs.

Sleep would not come to him that night.

With a cold sweat shining on his skin in the faint glow of candles, Thorin stood and put on some clothes that would render him anything but royal looking. Dark robes and a large hood to pull over his head. He meant to walk the halls until morning. To occupy his body and get rid of the restlessness that persisted in his bones whilst his mind surged with dark thoughts.

Fili, his blessed nephew who seemed to always have a third eye for his uncle’s moods, awoke in his drunken sleep. He and Kili had enjoyed last night’s festivities to the fullest.

Groggily, Fili turned and glanced at Thorin. “Uncle…?”

“Go back to sleep, Fili.” How Fili could sleep with Dwalin and Kili snoring as much as they were, Thorin had no idea. But the vast amount of mead Fili had had most likely offered some help.

“Are you alright?” Fili pushed.

“I am just fine. I simply want to go for a walk.”

He didn’t convince his nephew. That much was obvious. But Fili gave in and put his head back down onto his pillow. He fell back asleep instantly. Most likely, Fili wouldn’t even remember this conversation come morning.

Heading out, Thorin wandered the halls, as he had planned. His mind was still clouded, dark, and he truly had no idea where his feet brought him. He found halls that were riddled with cobwebs, unused. He found basements and servant quarters and large libraries. A crypt, too.

But he didn’t explore any of the areas. He simply… wandered.

Until suddenly, he collided with something soft. In his half asleep state of panic and anxiety, Thorin had not noticed someone roaming the shadows, much like him, dressed in dark clothes, much like him, and collided with the figure upon both taking the same turn.

“I apologise- My lady?”

Her hood had fallen back as she’d stumbled against someone. Shocked, Maerwyn stared down at Thorin. “Oh! My Lord!” Her cheeks blushed. Pale skin tinted with emotions she was not used to. “I humbly apologise…” She curtsied.

Thorin smiled. “Please, I should be the one apologising. I was not looking where I was going. I was a fool for not seeing your beauty a mile away.”

Shocked by his words, her beautiful green, almost yellow eyes flickered hither and tither for a moment as she tried to compose herself. “I… I thank you for your kind words, my lord. But I must ask… what are you doing out of bed at this ungodly hour?”

A chuckle arose from Thorin’s chest. Oh… that felt nice. It had been quite some time since someone earnestly made him chuckle. “I might ask the same of you.”

She blushed again.

He liked seeing that blush.

“I was on my way…” She interrupted herself. Her eyes betrayed her as it was obvious she suddenly got an idea. “Might I ask you to accompany me, my lord? If I may be so presumptuous, but I feel you might gain quite a lot from this…”

That was mysterious.

Thorin always thought that he had had quite enough of adventures for a lifetime. He’d dealt with dragons twice too many times in his life; he’d travelled Middle-earth in search of a home far too much… Though, he never quite tired of visiting the Shire.

But Thorin had little else to do that night, and wanted nothing more but to bask in this lady’s beauty for a little longer. So he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way to this mysterious thing that would help Thorin.

Edoras Hall was built atop a hill, with a view over not just the surrounding Rohirrim fields, but also a view of the town itself. It was perhaps in no way the same beauty as Gondor, with its vast history and great, white walls; but it was, to Thorin, the most beautiful sight in the world. At least right now. He was biased though, as the town presented itself to him as a backdrop to lady Maerwyn. Anything would be as beautiful as Erebor’s halls to him when lady Maerwyn was present.

Her golden hair braided to the side escaped her large, black hood which was cast over her head to prevent people seeing her leave. Why the secrecy, Thorin had no idea. But he found it elicited some sort of youthful rebellion inside of him that only further made lady Maerwyn enticing.

He was unaware that, already, his mind was distracted away from the worries of trying to create a friendship with the kingdom of Rohan, and the dark nightmares that plagued him.

Down the steps they hurried, into the sleeping town with shadows cast over their faces. The sun was beginning to wake, and although there were already a couple of people awake, Thorin felt himself escape himself. As if a freedom permeated his surroundings, hidden as he was. As if for once he wasn’t King Thorin, or Thorin Oakenshield, but someone Thorin had missed being a great deal; a younger, less known Thorin who could stand beside his father and grandfather and not be noticed too much – who could wander the merchant stalls in Erebor with his friends without anyone treating him differently.

And as they approached a little house in the middle of town, and lady Maerwyn removed her hood to glance back at Thorin, eyes making sure he had kept up with her fast pace, Thorin felt that although he was no one with a special title at the moment, hidden as he was, Maerwyn still found him special.

He’d never felt that way before. Accepted for who he was. Even Dwalin, his closest companion, could not see him without his titles. And although that was not a problem in and of itself, Thorin felt… warm. Nice. When seen as just him for a moment.

Taking off his hood as they entered the house, Thorin found himself, to his surprise, in a little bakery. The sweet scent of freshly baked goods and bread was already all around them. Bakers were amongst the first to wake in most towns. Here it was no different.

However, Thorin found that the owners looked a little more stressed than bakers usually did. Still, as they saw lady Maerwyn, they took the time to pause and smile in a greeting.

“Oh how I’m glad you’re here, my lady.”

My lady. So they knew who she was. Thorin was a little dismayed that his anonymity might go away- “And who is this with you?” Oh!

Maerwyn gestured toward Thorin, and to Thorin’s surprise, she answered for him: “This is a dear friend of mine. He wished to help.”

“I’ve never had a Dwarf in my shop,” the owner, flour all over their apron in her hair, said. “Sorry, that’s a strange remark to make. Please! I need all the help I can get.”

Maerwyn smiled and led Thorin toward the back of the shop. Washing her hands in a little basin, she got straight to work. This woman knew what she was doing. Baking bread was no difficulty for her. Thorin found this curious.

But he didn’t comment on it just yet. Instead, he was focused on his own work because…

He might be a skilled blacksmith. He might be a skilled warrior. And on the road, he was not a stranger to hunting with a bow and making some good meat stews. But… baking was not something he’d done much of. Bread was not something Dwarves never ate, of course, but… it just wasn’t something he’d baked himself before.

And so as he awkwardly tried to mimic what Maerwyn was doing, he found his dough lacked… Well, it lacked everything. It wasn’t really a dough. More of a piece of slime.

And much to his dismay, he caught Maerwyn glancing at his work and giggle.

“It’s alright. Here… just add some more flour.” Thorin watched her, finding his gaze locked on her instead of what she was saying and showing. Her teachings went over his head, blinded as he was by… well, everything about her.

So once she glanced at him with expecting eyes, clearly waiting for him to try once more but with the addition of all she’d just taught him, Thorin stumbled once more and created, again, a slime.

She chuckled. And blushed, clearly aware what had just transpired. “How about you just knead the dough? Your strength will do you good here.”

He did not miss her eyes subconsciously glancing at his arms, the muscles which hid beneath his tunic.

And oh was he suddenly extremely motivated to show her that, yes, he did have strength.

He kneaded the doughs so keenly and with such motivation that he most likely looked a fool. Yet, Maerwyn smiled at him and only encouraged and praised his work.

Before long, another person entered the shop: that ranger who was always lurking around Thengel. Thorin’s heart sunk a bit, not because Thorongil would ruin anything, but because Thorin had enjoyed having Maerwyn’s complete attention.

And why was he always around where Maerwyn was?

Jealousy.

Thorin was quick to realise that what he felt was jealousy. Truly, it was unbecoming of him. This lady next to her, arm sometimes brushing up against his, sending shivers down his spine, awakened sides of Thorin that had laid dormant for so long whilst he had done nothing but try and survive. For decades, his life was all about the Dwarves under his charge. His people’s redemption. His people’s survival. His own throne’s return. Now, suddenly, he cared about kneading dough and a lady’s arm brushing up against his.

It was… a welcoming change of pace.

And he did not want it to be disturbed.

“My lady,” Thorongil greeted. Maerwyn smiled and greeted him back… “Sire,” he greeted Thorin.

And then, to Thorin’s surprise, Thorongil took off his rings, washed his hands, and began helping the both of them too.

A comfortable silence fell over them all, and Maerwyn’s little smiles and blushes toward Thorin never stopped. Thorin found it curious, and his mind suddenly realised that he had no idea why he was making bread.

“My lady, my good sir, might I ask of you… why we are helping the local bakery?” Thorin asked as kindly as he could. He’d learned from his nephews that sometimes he was a little too… gruff. Grumpy was actually the word Kili had used, but he hadn’t liked that. Grumpy was what one called someone old. And Thorin surely wasn’t old yet?

Maerwyn giggled when Thorongil blinked in surprise. “You’ve not told him?”

“I fear I quite forgot,” Maerwyn chuckled. “My brother wished for all the people to have freshly baked bread come morning, as a token of his gratitude and as a celebration for their new king. But I’m afraid my brother has always lived the life of a nobleman, even in Gondor or out on the road, so he didn’t quite realise how much work this would be on the bakers. Thorongil and I decided we’d help out. But working with one’s hands can have quite a therapeutic effect, and when I saw the look in your eyes, my lord, I thought I’d bring you here too.” Maerwyn, a bit of flour on her cheek, glanced at Thorin with sheepish, almost worried eyes.

Had she gone too far?

Thorin smiled. No, she had not. Perhaps he might have reacted differently in another circumstance. Perhaps he’d even reacted differently had it been anyone but Maerwyn who had said these words to him. But Maerwyn with her beauty was a welcomed person to dig deeper into Thorin.

And as a matter of fact, Thorin was a little surprised that she’d seen through him so well. He’d not even realised himself that during these hours, Thorin had not once thought of Erebor or its riches. He felt lighter. Lighter than he’d done since he’d taken on the burden of being King despite the Dragon Sickness in his heart. It felt… nice.

She felt nice. Too nice, for him. He didn’t deserve that after all he’d done. Yet, here she was, put on his path to offer her empathy.

He didn’t want to let her go.

“I thank you, my lady,” Thorin replied.

The Dwarf King caught a look between Maerwyn and Thorongil. A conversation Thorin had not been privy to seemed to suddenly come to an end. Thorongil bowed his head in defeat at her, and Maerwyn looked a little prideful. Thorin adored that look on her face. It made her glow. She should be proud all the time, Thorin thought. Someone should make her feel like a queen. He would, if only to see that look again.

The bakers had bowed and thanked the three of them so much that it had taken them five minutes just to leave the bakery. Once outside, all three of them put their hoods back on and walked back to Edoras Halls in peaceful anonymity.

By now, the morning sun was shining down on the town, and people had awoken. The bakery’s freshly baked bread was a scent that prevailed in the entire town. And when Thorin glanced back before beginning to ascend up toward the halls, he noticed young boys and girls, given a pretty penny to help out, deliver loaves wrapped in cloth to the people.

It was a good day for the townspeople. And, truthfully, Thorin found a newfound respect for the king. Despite Thengel’s demons speaking for him, causing distrust toward Thorin, a kind and well-meaning person was revealed to him through this very ordeal. No king would have thought of spreading food to his people as their first order. Most kings would have thought of themselves.

Thorongil walked ahead, offering Thorin and Maerwyn some privacy. Whether this was intentional or not was not difficult to read. Thorongil had offered a knowing look to Maerwyn before suddenly picking up his own pace.

“I hope you feel better, my lord,” Maerwyn said, breaking the silence between her and Thorin. “You looked so forlorn when we bumped into each other earlier. I wanted nothing but to help you.”

“Few would feel that way,” Thorin admitted.

“Why? You deserve help.”

Thorin grew quiet.

“You speak not very highly of yourself.” The walk up those steps toward the hall made Maerwyn slightly out of breath, yet as she walked beside him, skirts in her hand to keep from tripping, she took deep enough breaths to speak to Thorin clearly. She wanted him to listen. To hear. “You saved your people. You gave them a new home. You defeated a dragon.”

“There are details no one speaks of,” Thorin intervened.

Both paused as they reached the top, turning to face each other. Thorongil disappeared inside ahead of them.

“What details?” she boldly asked.

“I am not myself.”

“We all have darkness.”

“You should not grow comfortable around me. I have days I am no person. There are days I have to lock myself in my room as greed and desire are all I feel. There is, and always will be, a curse on the wealth of that Mountain. And my family, my bloodline, is its prey.”

Maerwyn’s brow furrowed in worry. Not disgust. Not fear. But worry. Worry for him and his wellbeing. Thorin almost wanted to wave it off and tell her to stop being naïve, as he did with Dis, Fili and Kili.

But it wasn’t naivety, and Thorin could see that much.

She meant it.

“Then I will endeavour to find more ways to help you.”

More?

“This was for me?” Thorin asked, gesturing back in the direction of the bakery.

“The baking was for the people. But letting you help was for you, yes. There should be more things that could aid you. I will figure it out. I promise.”

“You have no reason to promise anything to me.”

“And yet I am promising,” she persisted, smiling. “The stubbornness of Dwarves is true, it seems. Yet, the stubbornness of women is equally as true.” She stepped closer, as if wanting to reach out, but her confidence failed her.

Thorin had wished she’d done what she’d wanted.

“You have some flour on your cheek.”

Because it would have meant her touch his cheek.

“So do you, my lady.”

And it would have meant he’d been able to touch her too.

Thorin and lady Maerwyn did not have many more moments where they could speak in private. So they made their own time to do so.

Somehow, without saying a single word about it, both had found a routine in going to that very corner where they’d bumped into each other each early morning, for a stroll around the halls and some peaceful conversation.

Sometimes, Maerwyn came with some new ideas to distract Thorin from the darkness inside him. She presented painting to him, though he really did not want to even try his hands on that. He was a blacksmith. Painting was too delicate for him.

She also presented writing to him. He did try his hands on that and so one fateful morning…

“I have tried my hand on writing something.”

Surprised that Thorin had done this, not because she did not believe in his artistic abilities, but because she was truthfully not sure he wanted to help himself, Maerwyn had paused in their walk to turn to him. “Have you?”

She wore a nightgown underneath a thick, large cardigan. And she looked as heavenly as always, to Thorin.

With a nod, he assured her that he had indeed done some writing, before presenting a note from the inside of his coat. “I would like you to read it and let me know what you think.”

“I am no writer,” she was quick to say, shying away from the note.

“You do not need to be to see what can be improved upon,” Thorin reassured her.

Slowly, she took the note from him and opened it to reveal his writing. “I adore your writing style,” she praised him immediately. Thorin smiled and watched her. Maerwyn had this peculiar way of finding the positives in everything. The beauty. The good. The kind. And then she would also voice it, whether in praise or to alert someone to what they were good at. It was quite a beautiful thing, and perhaps it looked like nothing out of the ordinary to most – why a little praise was just kindness, and many had kindness! But to Thorin… when paired with her beautiful lips speaking the praise… it was perfection.

Those very words were what Thorin had written in that note of his. Those very words were what lady Maerwyn were reading right now, her green eyes dancing over the words with a speed that spoke of a well-read mind…

And then she blushed and shifted on her feet, not out of uncomfortableness, much to Thorin’s relief, but… joy.

“Are… Do you mean these kind words?” she asked him quietly. “Do you really find me…” She trailed off, blushing.

“I find you beautiful, yes,” Thorin said quietly, but confidently.

She brought the note to her chest, pressing it close to her heart to show her appreciation. A smile graced her lips.

And then both simply continued their walk. But they walked closer to each other…

And their morning walks turned into their own private courting.

Part 4: The Battle of Love (and Alliance)

“Good morning.” With a curtsey and a smile, Maerwyn, dressed in a green dress that flowed in seamless gentle waves from her waist down to the stone floor, joined her family at the breakfast table. Guests were offered breakfast in their rooms, so these moments were the only ones they had between just themselves.

Theoden and Theodis sat whispering to each other about their day’s plans, clearly looking mischievous. Something told Maerwyn that they were going to spend the day following Fili and Kili again. The two younger Dwarves had turned into the children’s favourite guests quite quickly. And Maerwyn was pretty sure Theodis had a little crush on Kili, which was adorable.

As they caught Maerwyn’s curious gaze, both began to giggle maniacally until their mother told them off. Thengel sat in pure silence, not even having acknowledged his sister’s presence.

Queen Morwen kept sending worried glances to her husband, but kept her head held high and pretended in front of the servants that nothing was wrong.

But Maerwyn was not like the Queen. Silence and patience were not her virtues. So, she reached a hand over to Thengel’s arm, dressed in a silk shirt. “Brother, what is wrong?”

A servant shifted between them, forcing Maerwyn to lean back again, missing the agitated clench of Thengel’s jaw. As more tea was poured into Thengel’s cup, Maerwyn pleasantly busied herself with buttering a piece of bread. A smile graced her lips suddenly, remembering her Dwarf King now each time she saw bread.

“That,” Thengel said. The servant had left, and Maerwyn turned her gaze to her brother again to find him staring at her with a less than pleasant look in his eyes. He was almost scolding her. “That is my issue.”

“What?” Maerwyn asked, her smile gone. It seemed to calm Thengel down.

Thengel did not elaborate on his words, he only quietly seethed in his seat as he said: “I will not agree on a partnership with the Kingdom of Erebor.”

“What?” Maerwyn asked once more, this time astounded at what she was hearing. “But brother-“

“They are here for their own purposes. I am not blind to the reports of darkness up in the north. Things are stirring. Changing. And I know they are here for our support. I will not sacrifice my own men for the sake of Dwarves.”

Maerwyn stared at Thengel in shock. “What has their race got to do with this?”

“They can bury themselves deeper into the mountains if they wish.”

“That-“ Maerwyn took a deep breath. Her brother was a kind and honourable man. Truly. But he was so, so broken and so unsure of himself… She’d hoped Thorongil’s presence would lessen that, but Thorongil was not here right now. “I don’t understand, my lord. There are also Men in danger in the city-“

“And you know this how?”

“I have spoken to the Dwarves.”

“You have spoken to one Dwarf, you mean.”

Maerwyn grew quiet. “I don’t understand your point.”

“You are my sister. You should be on my side. This is a political game. Everything is. No one wants anything from us unless it has something to do with what they can gain from it. Don’t you see? He does not want you. He wants soldiers. Protection.” At this point, Thengel had leaned in closer to hiss the words straight into Maerwyn’s face. “He does not care for you, only for his own skin. He is using you, Maerwyn.”

Promptly, Maerwyn stood up. The chair scraped behind her loudly. Servants paused and stared at her. Theoden and his sister watched her in surprise. Morwen looked sympathetic, but she stayed silent. And that hurt Maerwyn.

“I will not have someone tell me what is and what is not true in my own relationships,” Maerwyn said as curtly as she could, her voice barely above a whisper as she desperately tried to keep her emotions at bay. She’d not noticed how her hands had fisted parts of her skirts in desperation. “Especially not my brother. And not my king. You have it all wrong. You are too blinded by your own self-centred view on life to see how your hurt is hurting others. Not everyone wants something from you. And not everyone will use me to get to you.”

She turned to walk away.

“You will not talk to him ever again!” Thengel ordered angrily, his own chair scraping behind him as he stood but Maerwyn didn’t turn to show she’d heard him.

Tears flooded down her cheeks as she walked with her head held high, as far away from her brother as she could...

Her hands still clutching the skirts, Maerwyn found Thorin waiting for her in their usual spot later that day. A walk before lunch, around the small but still lavish garden that existed on the top of that hill, overlooking the Rohirrim fields like most views.

Yet, as Thorin bowed his head to greet her with a smile gracing his lips, he found she did not return a smile. In fact, she did not even pause her stride. She stared straight at him, well aware that he was there, but seemed to have arrived with a purpose and a determination that was not going to stop her.

It was part of what Thorin admired about her but-

He was not prepared for what was to come.

She strode over to him with such confidence and sad purpose he found no words. Nor did he find words as she leaned down and kissed him straight on the lips. Her fingers, which had clutched so tightly to her skirts earlier, held onto the sides of his face with a desperation yet gentleness that he’d never thought he’d feel before. Her touch seemed to activate some desperation hidden deep within himself, and he kissed her with a passion he’d never have used for their first kiss otherwise. It was on the brink of inappropriate.

But just as soon as they’d kissed, it was all over again as she recoiled in surprise at her own actions and stared at him with wide eyes.

“My lady?” Thorin asked, genuinely a little worried what might have prompted this.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered out aghast, before turning and rushing off.

It felt wrong to run after her, something in the way she’d looked at him told him so. So Thorin stayed put, trying his best to think of some reason for why this had occurred even if his mind was more on the kiss itself than anything else.

It was not until later in the evening, when Thorin sought Maerwyn out in her own chambers after not seeing her at any event during the day, that Thorin found out what was going on.

He knocked on her door and was let in by a maid who excused herself instantly, most likely on orders by Maerwyn. Said lady was sat in her windowsill, forlornly staring out over the Rohirrim fields and mountains. Curiously, her chambers were in the direction of Erebor, north.

“I apologise for this improper action, my lady, but when you did not attend lunch nor dinner, I worried for your wellbeing,” Thorin said, staying a courteous half a room away from her.

She at first didn’t react, nor did she turn her head to acknowledge that he was there.

She truly looked… sad.

“My brother is not going to agree to an alliance between our kingdoms,” she uttered monotonously.

Thorin sighed. “I know. He told me so earlier.”

Maerwyn turned to glance at him now, surprised at first, then even more sad than she’d looked earlier. Clearly, she’d hoped something she’d done might have changed his mind. “I am sorry. I think I am to blame.”

Now it was Thorin’s turn to look surprised. He crossed the room to reach her, gingerly taking her hand in his. “And why would that be?”

“I let myself get carried away. Thengel believes everyone is out to get him. Now he extends this anxiousness toward me.” She moved her hand away from Thorin’s. “He believes you are using me. I am sorry.”

Thorin soured a bit and grabbed her hand once more. “Then that is his issue and burden to bear. My original reason for being here is no more. I am here now, for you.”

A little smile graced her lips, but she didn’t dare to fully smile just yet. “But what of the darkness you spoke of?”

“Whatever is brewing in the North in those foul lands will brew no matter if we have extra support or not.”

“You might need us-“

“We will find some other way to beat it.” Before Maerwyn could try and say something anxious again, Thorin shook his head, “We will find some other way.”

She gave in and glanced down at their hands, letting her fingers intertwine with his. Two different people, two completely different sets of fingers, yet it felt so natural and perfect to hold onto him.

“I still am sorry.”

“None of this is your fault,” Thorin reassured. “Yet, you look sad not just because of this. Why did this hit you so hard, amrâlimê?”

“I wanted to help you…”

“You did.” Thorin smiled.

“And I’ve been trying to help my brother. But he is… If I cannot help, there is no purpose to me-“

“Do not say that,” Thorin was quick to interject. “My love, your purpose in life cannot be others. I appreciate what you have done and continue to do. But if you do not value yourself as highly as you value those that you help, you are going to go down a dark path.” He was quiet a moment, watching Maerwyn take the words in. “Disregard the King’s need for help. What is it you need right now to feel good?”

She squeezed his hand, staring deep within his eyes.

Thorin did not have to hear her words to know what she needed for herself, and from him to help her. With a smile, Thorin nodded his head. “Then come with me back to Erebor.”

…

Two Days Later.

…

Thorin kneeled in front of King Thengel. His nephews did the same a step behind him, whilst Balin, Dwalin and Ori were standing with their heads bowed. A public declaration of gratitude for the visit was occurring, and as King Thengel spoke his pre-practised speech, Thorin only half listened.

The tension that was in the hall was not just from everyone being fully aware that Thengel was going to publicly declare his denial to help Erebor and the people of Dale.

There was also tension because Thorin and Maerwyn would declare their own decision…

Secretly, Maerwyn’s maids were smuggling her luggage out through a back door and down to the horses and ponies. It was not like Thengel would or could force Maerwyn to stay. She was but a sister, so to speak, to the king and there were no laws granting him that privilege over her. However, Thengel might grow angry and Maerwyn’s kind heart would feel conflicted leaving on such notice. She and Thorin had already discussed it. It would be better to have the opportunity to simply leave whilst he was yelling at them rather than be forced to walk back and grab her belongings, giving Thengel time to use sympathy to make Maerwyn stay with him.

It sounded awful. Neither Thorin or Maerwyn wanted to talk like that about Thengel, truthfully, but his hurt and his trauma was evident in his actions. And they would be stronger than his love for his sister.

As silence fell over the hall, Thengel’s speech done, Thorin and his nephews stood back up again. The two kings bowed their heads at each other.

Then… “As for the proposed friendship between our peoples…” Thengel cleared his throat. Beside him, Morwen encouraged her husband with a smile. On the other side, Thorongil was peacefully watching.

Perhaps those two peoples’ reactions should have prepared both Maerwyn and Thorin for what was to come. But they were so adamant that they had all the information that they fell blind to what was happening right before their eyes.  

“I publicly declare that the Kingdom of Rohan is now an ally of the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Esgaroth!”

A silence followed his words. Until he smiled and laughed at everyone’s shocked reactions, and people suddenly cheered and roared. Lords and ladies clapped their hands in ecstasy, because an allyship was always good.

And Thorin… Well, whilst his nephews elbowed him in the side with happy looks on their faces, Thorin still was not quite sure this was real.

Not until Thengel approached and offered his hand to Thorin.

Slowly, Thorin shook it, and the two kings nodded their heads at each other.

“What changed your mind?”

“People told me to weigh the consequences. I’d not only lose an ally, I’d also lose family.” He smirked. “You thought I wasn’t aware of your and Maerwyn’s plans? I am King of these halls. I hear everything.” He sighed, letting go of the handshake. “I am trying something new, King Thorin. I hope you can prove to me that this something new will not end up as bad as I think it will.”

Thorin bowed his head. That was a promise he could keep. “Thank you, my lord.”

Thorin glanced to the side where Maerwyn stood, stunned and with her hands over her mouth in shock still. But she looked happy. And so he smiled at her, along with Thengel who had turned to check what Thorin was looking at…

Hand in hand, Thorin and Maerwyn led the entourage of Dwarves down the steps from Edoras Hall. The towns people had gathered to clap and wave the guests and their new allies off. Most looked shocked at the sight of their lady Maerwyn going with the Dwarves. But it was a silent message to all that Thengel’s sister had found her home.

Before either of them took the reins of their horses from the two stable boys standing at the end of the steps, Maerywn and Thorin turned to each other and kissed in front of all. A gentle kiss to publicly declare the truth.

Behind them, Theodis was waving at Kili with a blush on her own cheeks. Kili played along and sent an air kiss her way.

With people cheering them on now, Maerwyn and Thorin turned to Edoras Hall standing proud on the hill, and waved one last time at King Thengel, Queen Morwen, their children and Thorongil.

Helping Maerwyn up on her horse, Thorin took the reins from the stable boy to his own pony, but paused to glance back to this Thorongil one last time, curiosity in his eyes.

But he found Thorongil was suddenly gone, nowhere to be seen. As if his goal had been accomplished and he’d left the scene to keep doing whatever a ranger did…

Shaking his head at that, for some reason thinking that this was not the last time Thorin would meet Thorongil, Thorin climbed up onto his pony. He reached out for Maerwyn’s hand and rode with her beside him down the town of Edoras. Maerwyn glanced back once to wave goodbye to her family. A big smile was on her lips.

“Will you miss them?” Thorin asked her.

“I don’t think so. I have all the family I need right here.” She leaned over to press a kiss to Thorin’s lips…

comment cheat code:

❤️ - I loved it! 💛- Please write more for this pairing/fandom!! 💙- HOW DARE YOU?? /lh 🤍- don't reply to my comment, please (I'm shy/anxious/don't want to talk today/don't like the feeling of being acknowledged when reading on AO3) 🤎- showing support for this / extra kudos 💚- twas okay 🖤- meh... have read better

#my tolkien writing #thorin spring forge 2024 #thorin oakenshield #thorin x oc #thorin x female oc #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #everybody lives AU #lotr #my writing #tsf24 #tolkien event

[brigdrawsstuff]

"...other descendants of King Thengel were taller than the norm of Rohan, deriving this characteristic (together in some cases with darker hair) from Morwen, Thengel's wife, a lady of Gondor of High Númenórean descent." -The Unfinished Tales

Don't mind me, I'm just in my corner dreaming of a Prince Théodred with Southern Dunédain genes. We never actually get a physical description of him after all 💖

#My chin is in my hands #Lotr #Théodred #My art #Rohan

[ass-deep-in-demons]

I love Domhall Gleeson so much, you have no idea!!! 😱😍😭❤️ I was already super interested in your wonderfully conceived Derufin before, and now I'm even more determined to bring him into my AU with a significant role! With your permission, of course!

I know he's technically canon, but the character is one of those blank slates that makes him practically an OC (in my view, anyway). When you have the time, could you please give me an info dump of everything you've created for him, as much as you are comfortable sharing? If you don't mind! :)

And speaking of fancasting, is his father Duinhir played by Brendan Gleeson by any chance? 😂

PS. Have fun with BG3! I haven't played it myself, but my sister spent a solid amount of time being lost to that game too. So I understand the fixation. 😂

Thank you so much for sending this ask @sotwk! And thank you for your infinite patience, unfortunately my new job has been hectic so I've had to delay forming a replay, but HERE WE GO!

The second I read your idea about Brendan Gleeson being Duinhir it immediately became my canon also <3.

There are some things about the Derufin/Morwen/Boromir triangle that I've cut out from Under Our Darkening Skies.

"When Lady Morwen had first arrived in Minas Tirith, she had wasted no time to approach Boromir and subtly prodded him on his designs regarding marriage. He was, after all, the most sought after bachelor in Gondor. A bachelor still, in his late thirties, to his father’s eternal chagrin. In response, the Steward’s Heir equally gently had let slip that he had not been planning to take a wife, and she had quickly pranced off to the greener pastures that the City offered."

Because of Morwen initially setting her sights on Boromir (I mean duh), Derufin is still to this day reluctant to make his feelings for her known. He thinks Morwen still prefers Boromir. In reality Morwen's making a pass on Boromir back then had been dictated more by her youthful ambition than any real feelings for him or even any genuine regard. So, Derufin, grow a pair and just ask her out already!!!

Some more trivia:

Derufin's older brother Duilin is prone to brooding and melancholy while Derufin is the funny, carefree one.

Derufin's love for Lady Morwen is rivalled only by his love for his finely made and custom-decorated yew longbow - a gift from Lord Steward given for Derufin's knighting. He has, of course, named the bow after the Lady. Boromir groans loudly whenever he's reminded of it. Derufin is so so so cringe about his bow but also INSANELY good at archery.

Derufin is one of the few people who know about Boromir's fling with the Archivist. He found out accidentally (and has been wishing to erase the image from his brain ever since).

Derufin is actually not the only member of Boromir and Faramir's friend group from their youth. The "pack", aside from Boromir, Faramir, Derufin and Duilin, also included Hirluin the Fair (nicknamed Pretty Boy by Derufin). Faramir befriended Hirluin when he squired in under Hador, the Lord of Pinnath Gelin. Hirluin (who has as of 3018 TE succeeded his late father) is a ladies man and a party animal, so his friendship with Faramir is an unlikely one. However, their bond is strong because of the shared memories from their youth.

I dread what will become of these babies during the Battle of Pelennor. Just know that I am out od my mind and I can promise nothing :D

#ass deep in demons #ass deep in asks #[wandering birds] #derufin #morwen of lossarnach #duilin #hirluin #[arda]

[merilles]

morwen, the healer!

#tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #original character #oc #original female character #ofc #gondor #tolkien oc #lotr oc #oc: morwen #my ocs #art #oc art #my art #merilles

[anghraine]

I just finished the Silmarillion and Faramir and Denethor being Numenor call backs feels waaaay more significant now. Damn. I knew vaguely what happens before reading but now I have a greater appreciation for the sense of scale involved here.

It also means I encountered the first age origins of some of the Stewards names (Denethor, Boromir, Finduilas) I was wondering if you had any thoughts on any connection or relevance to their lotr namesakes? It makes Faramir an even more interesting choice in terms of departure from that tradition (and then Elboron after him, I wonder now about the choice of the El- prefix)

Another Silm finisher! Welcome :D

And yeah, I remember realizing on a first read that something important was going on with the Númenor throwback thing, but reading the Akallabêth and being like "...oh" made it more powerful and complicated in a really intriguing way. And the dream of Númenor's destruction haunting Faramir can be understood without the Silm, but it's definitely more with it.

I think the namesake thing is mostly a Dúnadan tradition that's gone on so long that later Third Age people with those names are more likely to be named after previous Third Age people with those names than directly for First Age ones (it could be both simultaneously, of course, esp if First Age names form a lot of the common "pool" of Gondorian ones). We see those kinds of namesakes in the House of Dol Amroth, too (Morwen, Finduilas, at a remove Ivriniel), and also just some random Gondorian characters (like Húrin of the Keys).

"Our" Denethor and Boromir, say, are most likely named for Steward Denethor I and his own son, the Steward Boromir. But there might have been a lost reference going on with the previous Denethor and Boromir. And I suspect the Ruling Stewards made more of a point of using First Age heroic names than they had before (though they and others did do it outside the Ruling Stewardship) to underscore their royal/heroic origins as they became the functional ruling dynasty.

I don't imagine the choices were always "random First Age name that the parents liked"—potentially some were even prophetic in meaning or in terms of future resonance with the original bearers' lives. There could be other reasons, too. I imagine that the names of Finduilas and her sister Ivriniel reflect some sort of parental or familial preoccupation with the original Finduilas, say. And generally, I think a lot of the choices would have to do with cultural stature in Gondor—which might explain why there are a lot of references to Edain heroes and some to big name Elves, but not to the Fëanorians.

I'm rambling a bit, lol, but I do find it interesting. Faramir's name, far from the insult it's often taken as, is a name of literal royalty. We know that the Stewards before the Ruling Stewardship often took Quenya names to mark their royal origins, as did other families of royal descent (the royal family themselves always did it). So a royal Quenya name is actually weirdly suited to Faramir's role as the Steward/chief counselor/regent/etc for Aragorn, but I doubt either parent knew exactly that would happen when he was born—maybe Finduilas had some flash of insight as Dúnadan mothers sometimes do, though. It's appropriate in meaning for her personally at any rate (fára means shore).

The El- prefix for Faramir and Éowyn's son is very interesting, you're right! Considering Gondorian preoccupation with legends of the past and use of their names, it's hard to think there would be no association with the El- of the royal family of Doriath, including Elros. Faramir is a descendant, if remotely, but bringing that tradition back after thousands of years would certainly be an intriguing choice on his and Éowyn's parts. If it's not an allusion to Elros et al. but chosen for meaning, that's just "star" or (more loosely) "Elf," which is also rather peculiar. The -boron is a pretty obvious reference to Boromir, of course. I'll have to think about how I headcanon that particular one, actually.

Thanks for the ask!

#anon replies #respuestas #anghraine babbles #legendarium blogging #faramir #húrinionath #anghraine's meta #númenórë #long post #ondonórë blogging #elboron

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Favourite Female Tolkien Character Poll - Round 1, Match 27

Morwen Steelsheen

The mother of Théoden, and of two daughters (one older than him and one younger). She was from Lossarnach in Gondor, and was seventeen years younger than her husband Thengel.

Éowyn was slender and tall, with a grace and pride that came to her out of the South from Morwen of Lossarnach, whom the Rohirrim had called Steelsheen.

Théodwyn

The youngest daughter of Morwen Steelsheen and Thengel, Théodwyn was the mother of Éomer and Éowyn; she died of illness when they were children, not long after her husband Éomund was killed in battle.

#favourite female tolkien character poll #morwen steelsheen #theodwyn #rohan #rohirrim #tolkien #the lord of the rings

[wrath-ruin-reddawn]

Name Meanings in The Rings of Power: Bronwyn

Up next in our look at the meaning of show-only characters from The Rings of Power is our girl Bronwyn!

Now, personally, I think an Elvish origin for Bronwyn is less likely than other characters, mostly due to the spelling (which we'll get into later). However, that doesn't mean that the writing team didn't sneak any Easter eggs into her name, so I'll be taking a look at possible Sindarin roots anyways.

The first portion of her name, "bron", doesn't have a direct translation from Sindarin, but it is similar to brona "to survive", bronad "survival", and bronwe "lasting quality, faith." Extrapolating from this, I think it's reasonable to assume that these words all derive from a root word bron, which is semantically related to all the others. Alternatively, her name could be a combination of bronwe and the suffix -wen "woman, maiden" that has been simplified as "Bronwewen" is rather cumbersome to say. Over time, the name would have been shortened to "Bronwen", and the variant in spelling may have come from humans adapting the name to suit their own naming conventions-- think of other human names like Eowyn and Theodwyn.

Regardless of which option is correct, if Bronwyn's name does come from an Elvish origin, it likely means something along the lines of "faithful maiden" or "lasting maiden", which I think is very apt. Bronwyn literally holds her entire community together with her bare hands, she's definitely a survivor!

Now, here comes the tricky part-- it would be easy to conclude that Bronwyn is just a Westronized version of an Elvish name if we never saw the original -wen used as a suffix in human names, but we do! Morwen, wife of King Thengel of Rohan, has the -wen suffix in her name. She is from Gondor, so there's a possibility that they don't Westronize the suffix because of a greater Elvish influence via the Numenorians. So the results here are inconclusive.

Interestingly, I can't find any easy explanation for where the "bron" in Bronwyn could have come from in regards to a Germanic origin. This is notable, because from what I've seen so far most of the Southlanders have names that contain either Old English or Old Norse elements. As noted above, the -wyn suffix, as seen in other human names, is Old English for "joy" or "delight".

The most definitive real world translation for Bronwyn comes from the Welsh bron "breast" and gwen "white, fair, or blessed." Using a less literal meaning for "breast", this translates to "fair-hearted, pure of heart." Which is another great meaning for her! Bronwyn is, in many ways, the soul of the remaining Southlanders. Her line that she gives to Theo about "light and high beauty" is from Samwise Gamgee, who has goodness coming out of his pores. That's not an association that the writers would have given to just anyone-- it speaks a lot to Bronwyn's character that she was the one to say it.

There's one last option. Some consider Bronwyn and its alternative spelling Bronwen to be derived from the Welsh Branwen, meaning "white raven" or "beautiful raven". I may write more on this later, but let's hope this isn't the origin of her name! In Welsh mythology, Branwen comes to a very sad end and dies of grief, and given the air of doom surrounding elf and human couples we can only hope that she and Arondir get a happier ending.

More name meaning analyses: Arondir | Halbrand | Rowan | Theo | Tredwill | Waldreg

#the rings of power #trop #trop meta #bronwyn #bronwyn x arondir

[dalleyan]

Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR stories, Manners, ch 1 posted, 3-1-23)

Morwen is irked by a persistent suitor, who isn’t at all what she has in mind for a husband.  (Romance, Drama, Family)

 Manners  -  (May 36 IV)

Chapter 1

“I do not think the dainty little lady from Rohan was much taken with your charms, Caranhir!” a low voice commented, with obvious amusement.

Caranhir’s eyes flicked to his friend, Phinion, and he shook his head.  “You are mistaken!  She is slow to warm up to me, it is true, but soon enough I will make her my wife!”

“Wife!  Have you gone mad?  She could barely tolerate dancing with you.  Why on earth would she marry you?” Phinion exclaimed.

Turning his gaze back to the lovely blond Rohirric woman, he answered steadily, “Because I will persuade her I am worthy of her attention.  I will convince her she would prefer no other.”

His friend laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.  “Well, I cannot fault your self-confidence!  This ought to prove entertaining, at the very least.  I do not think the daughter of Rohan’s king will be easily persuaded.”

“What?  She is King Eomer’s daughter?”

Phinion nodded, with a smirk.  “Did you not know?  I just overheard some women talking about it.  They are torn between liking her immensely and hating her for her beauty!  More than half the men in this room would give their right arm just to kiss her once, and you aspire to marriage?  Indeed, you have been out in the sun too long today.  She will never consider you!  From what I hear, she is prim and proper, and not at all taken with a rough and ready sort like you, nobleman’s son or not.  You had best set your sight elsewhere.” 

Phinion swallowed the last of his wine and handed the goblet to his companion, adding, “And now, if you will excuse me, I see several ladies very much in need of a dance partner.  I must go and rescue them!”

At about the same time this conversation was taking place, across the room Morwen had reached the side of her cousin, Luthiel.  Taking the offered glass of wine, she thirstily drank, then said with annoyance, “Tell me, who on earth is that awful man?”  She gestured toward Caranhir, on the other side of the hall. 

Following the direction of Morwen’s hand and eyes, she asked, “Do you mean the tall, well-built man, standing by the pillar near the wine table?  With the dark blue tunic and auburn hair?”

Morwen nodded, and Luthiel grinned.  “That is Lord Caranhir.  Why? Are you attracted to him?”

Morwen gave one of her rare unladylike snorts.  “Attracted! To that hideous man?  Certainly not!  And how on earth could he possibly be a nobleman?  His manners are atrocious!  I was never so pleased to have a dance end in my entire life!”  She took another swallow of wine to cool her temper.

Luthiel laughed. “Well, manners or not, he is a nobleman, though the past few years he has been serving as a Ranger in Ithilien. That perhaps accounts for his being less polished than one might expect.

“One might expect him to behave even remotely like a gentleman rather than some bumbling, uneducated...”  Morwen trailed off, unable to think of a word to adequately describe her low opinion of him. Then she added, “He trod on my feet at least three times!  And he held me far too familiarly for our having just met!” 

Luthiel hid a smile at the haughty words.  Her cousin had always been on the prissy side, though she was likable enough that usually no one paid it much mind, but now and then she managed to get quite worked up about something not in keeping with her prim view of things.

Though Morwen huffed and complained a while longer, Luthiel turned a deaf ear.  She knew Morwen too well to believe this would last very long.

Once Morwen had caught her breath, she was ready to accept the next dance partner and one readily presented himself the moment she looked around with interest.  However, with some chagrin, she noted that whenever she caught a glimpse of Lord Caranhir, he always seemed to be watching her with amusement.  There was something proprietary in his gaze that suggested she belonged to him and he was ‘tolerating’ her dancing with other men.

The insufferable conceit of the man!  He was sorely mistaken if he hoped to win her favor; indeed, she would not even be willing to accept another dance with him. If he tried to ask, she would turn him down, even if she had to be rude to do it!

 continue reading on AO3:

              https://archiveofourown.org/works/45436576/chapters/114319603

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Lord of the Rings #Elfwine Chronicles #LOTR #Morwen daughter of Eomer & Original Male Character #Original Gondor Characters #Luthiel daughter of Faramir

[swordoaths]

Going off the previous post of how important the spoken word is to the people of the Mark, it does merit a bit of discussion on the effects of languages used in the Royal House. Because there was a bit of contention!

So, people of the Mark speak Rohirric, but "the speech of Gondor" started to appear in the Royal house when Thengel King married Morwen Steelsheen, Éomer's grandmother. Morwen was Gondorian (and side note, it's through Morwen's line and her Dúnedain heritage that gives Éomer his height of 6'6"-- more about that here).

When Thengel married Morwen, there was some contention amongst the people of the language being used. It is said in Appendix A that Thengel "proved a good and wise king; though the speech of Gondor was used in his house, and not all men thought that good."

I want to take a bit to explain that contention, and it derives from the fact that the people of the Mark are orally based, and their word and language is the centerpiece of who they are. There are no written words about the people of the Mark, and when there is nothing of that kind, then the words they speak and the language they use become all the more important. And so, there's an arguable understanding as to why the people of the Mark may be less inclined to the thought of another language being used. If, say, Sindarin was historically used in the Royal House, and the vast majority of the people who live in the Mark do not understand it, then how can they trust the word of their King? How can they trust his honor?

Okay-- so then Thengel and Morwen have Elfhild, Théoden, and Théodwyn. Théodwyn is Éomer and Éowyn's mother, so you can see the way the Gondorian connection falls down the line.

Whether Éomer knows Sindarin is not specifically defined, though I would imagine he does understand the language to a certain extent. Certainly he uses Westron, or Common Speech, for others outside the Mark understand him, and only the people of the Mark speak Rohirric.

I don't believe he would default to the use of Sindarin, because Rohirric, to Éomer, is part of his identity and heart. Not speaking Rohirric would be akin to not accepting his culture and heritage. But he certainly is not ignorant of Sindarin. I think his background and family upbringing makes him less suspicious of the language than others may be.

Théodwyn may have used Sindarin in speaking with him, or in singing him songs when he was a child. When Éomer comes to the Royal House and is raised by Théoden, there could have been some Sindarin used there, as well. And then, when Éomer marries Lothíriel, there is yet another connection to the Sindarin language, and arguably a balancing of Rohirric and Sindarin used between them as they raise Elfwine, who is a child of two different cultures. And I do tend to think that Éomer likely spoke in Rohirric and Sindarin when exchanging marital vows to Lothíriel because he comes from an understanding of how important the spoken word is, and therefore wishes to honor her through the way she speaks.

#&. éomer headcanons #today is for Éomer thoughts only it seems