#River of Life Fellowship

[minecraftdreamer]

The sun was setting, the last of its fiery tendrils gripping the edges of the sky, reluctant to concede to night. It drenched the village in a glow that seemed to ignite the rooftops, transforming simple wood into gilded terraces. The river, snaking through the heart of town, wore the reflection of the sun like the scales of a languid serpent. Boats lay anchored, and on their decks, men spoke little, their day's toil done, content in the silent camaraderie of shared labor.

In the distances, smoke from chimneys mingled with the evening haze, pillars of a temple devoted to the everyday. The homes of people, nested in close-knit alleys and byways, were havens of warmth and fellowship, their windows small eyes that gleamed with a welcoming light.

This was a place of simple complexities, a canvas textured by the hands of those who built and lived in its embrace. Each building, each ship, was not merely a structure but a story, a testament to the life that flowed within and around it.

Somewhere a child's laughter broke the hymn of the crickets, a sound both alien and fitting in this place where life trumpeted softly but insistently, weaving through the reeds along the water, creeping up the cobblestone streets, and claiming each heart with the subtle certainty of twilight shadows.

In the stillness of the looming night, the village waited, patient and eternal, cradled by the arms of earth and water, blessed by fire and air, as much a creature of this world as any living soul that walked its paths.

#sunset #village #river #boats #evening #rooftops #chimneys #community #life #simplicity #stories #reflection #warmth #fellowship #twilight #AI Art #Minecraft #mineblr #Minecraft Dreams

[drdemonprince]

Hangouts don’t have to involve doing something out of the ordinary together— majority of life is an accumulation of a series of mundane, regular, consistent tasks we need to engage in to survive. The goal is to move towards sharing the mundane together rather than drifting through each day, moving from task to task… alone. Right now, I’m being forced to apply for jobs so I have a position as an attending somewhere after I finish my fellowship next June. There’s so few openings that I can’t be picky about location. I’m also simultaneously studying for my board exams to get licensed in my medical specialty. It’s overwhelming. I find most of these processes deeply unethical and it is excruciatingly cringe to beg for someone to see that you are worthy of life. I’m not even sure how long I can drag on in academic medicine… so this is a particularly stressful time period in my life. But I don’t want to isolate and study myself to death. I don’t want to fixate on this in a way where I have no time left to spend with the people I care about. If I only hung out with people to do something different/ fun/ out of the norm, I’d essentially limit myself to sporadic interactions. Instead, I asked my homies if I could still be there with them AND study or work on a stupid cover letter etc. Along with communal cooking nights and such, I’m slowly starting to spend more time in comforting silence with my homies. I’ll be studying while someone is cleaning or cooking or doing their laundry. Bottomline: I want our day-to-day lives to be more bearable. The cooking, cleaning, caretaking, caregiving, chores, all of the mundane… that’s where we can gradually build in more interdependence. It’s nice to have celebrations that honor any auspicious moment or time in our lives. It’s great to get together to try something new. But we need more low-stakes hangouts that also give us room to deepen our relationships. In Bengre, even if some folks still went out into the city to work during the day— almost everyone including our elders and children, would be outside under the moon at night. Some spend hours drinking chai on porches looking onward at the children playing cricket on the beach sand. Some make the rounds sprinkling blessed flowers from this morning’s temple ritual on every patch of fertile soil in the village as an offering to the land. Some practice their musical instruments and everyone can hear the soothing beats of the mridangam or the melody of the tambura. Some are out back in the kitchens mashing together spices to marinade the fish that others caught on the river this morning. Point is anything… no matter how “mundane” can be a ritual. If anything, that is what makes rituals sustainable.

Beautiful writing from Ayesha Khan that gets me thinking about the conversations we've been having on here about culture!

[ostrichchariot]

I may never be over Colin giving that bag of gold to the banana guy's family.

Because the thing is, it's so much the opposite of everything else any of them did that episode. Everyone is making big moves, massive changes, risky plays. Trying to change the world.

But Colin spends hours searching along the river, after Raphaniel tries to find the heart of the world.

Even now, he doesn't seem that well off, but he gives that family a bag of gold, not to try and make things right, but just to try and make things easier for them, because he knows he's already made them so much harder.

And it's just- the knowledge that this isn't even the sacrifice the fellowship were willing to make. This is just the collateral damage of that sacrifice. Because of them, he killed someone to just wanted to live a normal life, who never wanted to be involved in any of this.

And he knows what that's like.

So he does something not for revenge or power or security, but just to try and mitigate in some small way the pain they've caused.

#dimension 20 #the ravening war spoilers #colin provolone

[mushroomates]

some boromir headcanons

he likes to eat spicy food. he cannot handle the spice, but keeps eating it anyways.

he stays up during merry and pippin’s watches during the night. half because he wants to keep them awake and give them company, half because he’s pretty sure they wont be paying attention.

best hugs. he will kind of pick u up while he hugs u.

would wear a fanny pack.

his favorite food is chicken. he likes any kind of chicken. also likes apples.

decent story teller. can recall gondor’s history easy. when he starts talking about it, he becomes very passionate and has been known to yell or cry while retelling events.

carries around a packet of dirt from gondor around with him for good luck.

tried to make his own brew. went blind for a little bit after trying it. gimli fuckin loves it tho, tried it at gondor and brought a batch with him.

has dogs. took in a stray while patrolling the city, named him Minas. Minas lived a long and happy life, and afterwards Faramir brought him a puppy who he named Ithil.

he is also allergic to dogs. insists otherwise.

his men call him “big brother boromir” behind his back. he pretends not to know.

once pippin called him dad and he coasted on that high for weeks

afraid of heights. will not admit it.

great with babies. would carry faramir around. his dad let him even though boromir was only five at the time, and faramir would try and wiggle out of his arms.

he whittles!!! or carves. works with wood. he made little trinkets for the hobbits in his spare time during the journey. he made pippin a little wooden dog and merry a rabbit because merrys kinda afraid of dogs. he made a bill the pony for sam after moria and was working on a cat for frodo before he passed away. it was in his pocket, half made. the didn’t spot it before he sailed away.

made faramir toys when they were younger- whole barnyard full of animals and some important gondor land marks. also a mini version of their family. faramir passed this down to pippin, who passed it down to his kids. it’s now a family heirloom.

dyslexic. faramir would read to him while he carved trinkets and such.

the fellowship goes out of their way to visit this shrine. he also has one in gondor, rivendell, and just outside of lorien.

boromir tried to teach merry and pippin wood carving once. pippins carving tools were quickly confiscated but merry learned how to make a boat.

merry officially took up wood carving after his death. he makes little boats for the hobbitlings and they have a race every summer down stream.

he also taught the hobbits how to make said boats, so when they’re older they hold the race themself. afterwards, they take the winning boat down to the graveyard.

boromir has a grave in the shire that the hobbits put gifts on, including said boats. it’s on the edge of the forest by the river. the fellowship all come to visit. some things left include: flowers, hot sauce, wooden toys, notes, homemade jam, pretty rocks, and some of farmer maggot’s produce. farmer maggot does not know of this.

#gondor #boromir son of denethor #boromir #faramir #faramir son of denethor #denethor #merry and pippin #peregrin took #meridoc brandybuck #the shire #lotr #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship #the two towers #minas ithil #boromir headcanons #lord of the rings headcanons #lotr headcanons #jrrt #jolkien rolkien rolkien tolkien #jrr tolkien #tolkien headcanons #tolkien #hobbits #boromir and faramir #boromir and his hobbits #boromir deserved better #gondor headcanons #middle earth

[twomiddlefingersforthehaters]

It's very likely that a manga artist has seen a movie based on a popular comic, and may have been inspired by it and referenced it in their work.

1. Argonath on the River Anduin and The Valley of the End are so similar-looking

Valley of the end - 2004

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring- 2001 [it premiered in Japan on March 2, 2002]

2. Kishimoto said that he was referenced Spiderman.

We know that Sasuke felt pain in his arm and fell to his knees, coughing up blood just above Naruto's head. Then we seeing him end up straight above Naruto's face. All the raindrops pass through his face land on Naruto's face. We know he was staring at Naruto for a while. But we don't know when Sasuke got up and left him. Kishimoto deliberately left this scene up to our interpretation.

And it's a clear visual symbolism of the iconic Upside down Kiss between Mary Jane and Peter Parker in the Rain (2002)

There is no denying the fact that this romantic visual symbolism was given to Sasuke innocently staring at Naruto...

3. At the end of the chapter 271 Kishimoto said that he referenced "CHIKAMATSU MONZAEMON"

In the manga, Monzaemon is known as the first generation of puppet master. In fact, this is a real person who actually existed in the Edo period. It is taken from the famous Japanese puppet theater writer "Chikamatsu Monzaemon". He was the inventor of the art of puppetry. His real name is Sugimori Nobumori, and Chikamatsu Monzaemon is his pen name. He was a Jōruri, a playwright of puppet shows and kabuki during the Edo period. And also Known as the "Shakespeare of Japan". He is considered Japan's greatest playwright, writing for both bunraku puppet theater and the kabuki stage.

As a fan of his writings, Kishi created Chikamatsu Monzaemon as a character in his manga to show his respect for him.

As Kishi said, Chikamatsu is known as the Japanese Shakespeare. His most famous work is 'Love Suicide at Amijima' (1720). It is about two lovers who cannot live together because of social and political situation, and so blinded by love they commit the gravest act, suicide. Since their inflexible society makes their love impossible, Jihei and Koharu will seek to be joined in the afterlife. I've talked about it in here [It is based on the bunraku play The Love Suicides at Amijima by Monzaemon Chikamatsu]

Kishi talked about love suicide in the final note of chapter 271, then he mentioned double suicide in chapter 450, and finally in 486 Naruto suggested double suicide to Sasuke under a bridge [link].

Their shinobi world is no different from the real world when it comes to the basics. A world full of injustice, inflexible and prejudice...and it won't allow their love or let them be together. If they wanted to be together forever, the only option before them was to die together. Leaving this world to live with each other. Hopefully they will meet again in the next life….because in their next life they will not be burdened by society's expectations, hatred, injustice, prejudices and rigid rules.

#Naruto manga #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #masashi kishimoto #my stuff

[ransprang]

thank you for the wait @auryborealis we hope you like your match up <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

your lotr match up is....

LEGOLAS!!!

SFW

How you met: You were wandering the forests of Mirkwood, attracted by the legends of elven magic surrounding the place. Your footsteps were featherlight, softer than the wind caressing the leaves under the twilight moon. You didn’t really think you would meet any elves but you were enjoying nature. Suddenly you realised you were being watched. You found yellow eyes staring at you. A grey wolf padded out of the darkness. You knelt before it, beckoning closer, strangely calmed by its presence. The wolf allowed you to ruffle its fur before jerking its head up when a masculine voice called out, “Humans aren’t meant to be here.” You turned to see Legolas, standing behind you. His weapons were still sheathed so you took it as a good sign. “It's beautiful here, isn't it? The legends hardly do it justice,” you spoke smilingly. Legolas turned his gaze toward the canopy above, his eyes alight with a spark of reverence. "Indeed, the magic of Mirkwood is as boundless as the stars in the night sky. Few mortals dare to tread these ancient paths," he replied. You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of kinship with the elf prince. You asked if you could visit the woods again, and Legolas agreed with some reluctance. He said the forest had deemed you worthy, and it would not be his place to deny you access. You returned the next night, after exchanging a few curt words with him. He wasn’t there that night, but he appeared the night after that. Like a mistrustful cat, he warmed up to you over time, and eventually fell for you.

Legolas appreciates your love of animals and nature. He grew up in forests, surrounded by wild animals and he likes how you aren’t scared of them.

Horror stories rarely faze Legolas but he likes how animated you get while telling them and listening to them. He would try to collect ghost stories from everyone in the fellowship to come and tell you. Gimli would have some good ones.

Legolas would love your sense of humor. He often enjoys some verbal repartee with his companions and he would like someone who can give as good as they get. He revels in every witty comeback or sarcastic remark you make. He even finds it amusing when you cuss out people who annoy you when they aren’t looking.

Legolas, like most elves, is a rampant bisexual and he would love your androgyny. Elves are androgynous creatures themselves so you would fit right in.

After you both fall in love, Legolas would be completely devoted to you since elves bond for life. His family would be against it given the fact that you are mortal and he is royalty but he is not the type of man to dismiss his feelings in fear of heartbreak.

When you both are among friends he likes to quietly listen alongside you with his enhanced hearing. He’ll whisper comments about the tea and gossip being spilt into your ear making you giggle. The group looks oddly at you both.

Legolas enjoys practicing his archery while you are nearby learning how to dual wield light-weight swords. He would see you practicing and ask to spar with you. You both would teach each other a few tips and tricks unique to your individual fighting styles.

Everyone in the fellowship is lowkey scared by the two of you considering how light on the feet you both are. You both have accidentally snuck up on all the hobbits and Gimli, giving them mini heart attacks. 

Legolas would love it when you sing. When you think you are alone and are humming, he would quietly come and sit beside you to listen, careful not to alert you to his presence.

N/SFW

Being an enjoyer of nature, Legolas likes to partake in walking and swimming with you. When you both approach a river to swim in he respectfully watches you shed your layers of clothing. He admires your curves and the light shining on your body. He joins you in being naked, already semi-hard and enjoys bathing with you. He hugs you from behind, letting his hands wander from your stomach to your breasts, tweaking your nipples. 

Legolas is quick to catch onto your people pleasing personality. He reminds you many times to not force yourself to do something for him unless you want to. You can reassure him by giving him head randomly, he’s always clean, don't worry ;)

When he goes down on you his hands go up your thighs as he slowly kisses the inner flesh. Legolas makes intense eye contact with you as he gets closer to your throbbing pussy hole. Tantalisingly he licks and sucks on your folds. He likes making you lose your cool and let out a slew of curses, so he takes his time to work you up.

It always starts with warm cuddles and spooning on a bedroll after the fellowship sleeps. Legolas loves being the big spoon, holding you close to him protectively, but the longer your hips push into his groin, the more heated he gets. He starts dry humping his hard cock against you, breathing heavily.

Legolas likes to keep his pace slow and steady, eventually catching speed. He almost loses control, and doesn't stop till he cums inside of you. He would always finish inside of you, just the thought of a creampie brings him closer to the edge.

He likes nipple play, flicking your breast and sucking on them while you straddle him and ride his cock. Also, when you lick his nipples while stroking his cock he gets so turned on. He never understood why, but he always felt comfortable sexually expressing himself in front of you.

If Legolas gets too close too soon, he likes to get edged. It's his little punishment for not being patient with you and losing control. He would moan and groan as you touch him, and would only allow himself to cum when  he thinks you're close too.

He moans words in Sindarin, and looks at you smiling observing your confused expression before leaning in for a kiss as he's thrusting in missionary position.

He would carry your naked form up in his arms bridal style and take you with him on the secluded balcony to watch the stars with him, while he holds you close to him.

Legolas likes to play with your fingers, entangling his with yours after sex. Laying there just staring into your deep brown eyes, realizing how much he loves you.

your night owls,

admins sar, san & sav

#kofi commission #ko fi support #artist on kofi #fanfic commissions #commissions open #open commissions #writing commissions #commissions #commission #legolas x reader #lotr x reader #the lord of the rings x reader #legolas smut #legolas greenleaf x reader #lotr smut #legolas imagine #lotr imagine #the lord of the rings imagine #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf #legolas lotr #the lord of the rings #lotr legolas #lord of the rings #fluff #the lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr movies #legolas

[short-wooloo]

LEGO LOTR IS BACK!

Rivendell!

https://www.thebrickfan.com/lego-icons-lord-of-the-rings-rivendell-10316-officially-announced/

REVEALED: LEGO ICONS THE LORD OF THE RINGS: RIVENDELL, THE ONE LEGO SET TO RULE THEM ALL

7th February 2023: The LEGO Group, in partnership with Warner Bros. Discovery Global Consumer Products, today announced the much-anticipated LEGO Icons The Lord of the Rings: Rivendell set, inspired by the award-winning film adaptations. This highly detailed, 6,167 piece set features the iconic Elven stronghold from Middle-earth and comes complete with 15 minifigures.

Home to the house of Elrond, Rivendell is a key location in Middle-earth and events of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, as the place where the Fellowship was formed and the quest to destroy the One Ring began.

The LEGO The Lord of the Rings: Rivendell set is packed with fan favourite moments and Easter eggs, and can be built in three sections including; Section one, featuring:

• The Council Ring – complete with a semicircular ring of chairs for the council and the plinth where the ring is first revealed and the Fellowship discuss how to destroy it • Frodo’s Bedroom – with a desk and chest where the young hobbit recovers following his rescue by Arwen from the hands of the Nazgûl, before being reunited with Bilbo • Elrond’s study – with famous paintings from the history of Middle-earth

Section two, featuring: • An elven tower – featuring five Elven statues of unnamed famous warriors from the past

Second three, featuring: • Gazebo, river and bridge – to recreate the scene where the Fellowship departs Rivendell.

The set also comes with 15 minifigures – including all nine members of the Fellowship; Gandalf the Grey, all four hobbits (Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Merriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck and Peregrin “Pippin” Took), Legolas, Gimli, Boromir and Aragorn. They are joined by minifigures of Elrond, Arwen, Bilbo Baggins plus additional elves and a dwarf (Gloin) are also included.

LEGO and The Lord of the Rings fans alike will also receive several new LEGO elements from the world of Middle-earth, including: Bilbo’s sword, Sting, the broken shards of Narsil, Aragorn’s ranger sword, Boromir’s sword, as well as numerous dwarven axes and elvish blades to ensure the Fellowship are well armed for their quest ahead.

Talking about the set, LEGO Design Master, Mike Psaiki said, “We know many of our fans have been anticipating a set like this for a long-time – but a great LEGO The Lord of the Rings set is never late, it arrives precisely when it means to! It was important to us that we created something really special in this recreation of Rivendell. We aimed to add as much detail as possible and create an engaging experience throughout the build to delight fans recreating scenes orproudly displaying Elrond’s home. We are really pleased with the final design and how we have brought Rivendell to life in brick form.”

The LEGO The Lord of the Rings: Rivendell set is RRP £429.99/$499.99/€499.99 and is available exclusively for LEGO VIP members from 5th-7th March 2023, along with a free Frodo and Golum LEGO Brickheadz set (40630). It is free to become a LEGO VIP member and you can find out more at www.LEGO.com/VIP. From 8th March 2023 the LEGO The Lord of the Rings: Rivendell set will be available at LEGO Retail stores and www.LEGO.com/LOTR.

#lego #lego lotr #lord of the rings #lotr #lego lord of the rings #gandalf the grey #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #merry brandybuck #pippin took #legolas #gimli #boromir #aragorn #elrond #rivendell #arwen evenstar #bilbo baggins #gloin #elves #wooloo-writes #wooloo writes

[valarinde]

“But you always have to watch Tolkien with water. He never uses it unmeaningfully. Pools and lakes mirror stars, and hold hidden things. The Anduin has contrastin banks and, moreover, reeks of history. In a way, it is history, and the Fellowship is going with the current, to break up in confusion at the falls of Rauros. It is worth pointing out that when Aragorn later uses the same river, he comes up it, against the current, changing a course of events that seems inevitable. The other water is of course the Sea. This has been sounding dimly in our ears throughout the book, but in Lothlorien it begins to thunder. Does it suggest loss, departure and death? Certainly. But since water is always life to Tolkien, it must also be eternity.”

— Diana Wynne Jones, ‘The Shape of the Narrative in The Lord of the Rings.’

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #lotredit #tolkienedit #lotr #the fellowship of the ring #jrr tolkien #diana wynne jones #myedit

[apenitentialprayer]

The Christianization of African-Americans

Postcolonial American culture's preoccupation with breaking away from Europe was far removed from the situation among Africans in the United States at the time. The initial tenacity with which African Americans held onto their indigenous practices and the reluctance of many Southern white slaveholders to teach Christianity to the slaves limited the Christianizing process in the early period. Even the Great Awakening of the 1740s, which swept the country like a hurricane, failed to reach the masses of slaves. Only with the Great Western Revival at the turn of the nineteenth century did the Christianizing process gain a significant foothold among black people. The central questions at this junction are: Why did large numbers of American black people become Christians? What features of Protestant Christianity persuaded them to become Christian? The Baptist separatists and the Methodists, religious dissenters in American religious culture, gained the attention of the majority of slaves in the Christianizing process. The evangelical outlook of these denominations stressed individual experience, equality before God, and institutional autonomy. Baptism by immersion, practiced by Baptists, may indeed have reminded slaves from Nigeria and Dahomey of African river cults, but fails to fully explain the success of the Christianizing process among Africans. Black people became Christians for intellectual, existential, and political reasons. Christianity is, as Friedrich Nietzsche has taught us and liberation theologians remind us, a religion especially fitted to the oppressed. It looks at the world from the perspective of those below. The African slaves' search for identity could find historical purpose in the exodus of Israel out of slavery and personal meaning in the bold identification of Jesus Christ with the lowly and downtrodden. Christianity also is first and foremost a theodicy, a triumphant account of good over evil. The intellectual life of the African slaves in the United States —like that of all oppressed peoples— consisted primarily of reckoning with the dominant form of evil in their lives. The Christian emphasis on against-the-evidence hope for triumph over evil struck deep among many of them. The existential appeal of Christianity to black people was the stress of Protestant evangelicalism on individual experience, and especially the conversion experience. The "holy dance" of Protestant evangelical conversion experience closely resembled the "ring shout" of West African novitiate rites: both are religious forms of ecstatic bodily behavior in which everyday time is infused with meaning and value through unrestrained rejoicing. The conversion experience played a central role in the Christianizing process. It not only created deep bonds of fellowship and a reference point for self-assurance during times of doubt and distress; it also democratized and equalized the status of all before God. The conversion experience initiated a profoundly personal relationship with God, which gave slaves a special self-identity and self-esteem in stark contrast with the roles imposed upon them by American society. The primary political appeal of the Methodists and especially of the Baptists for black people was their church polity and organizational form, free from hierarchical control, open and easy access to leadership roles, and relatively loose, uncomplicated requirements for membership. The adoption of the Baptist polity by a majority of Christian slave marked a turning point in the Afro-American experience [...] Independent control over their churches promoted the proliferation of African styles and manners within the black Christian tradition and liturgy. It also produced community-minded political leaders, polished orators, and activist journalists and scholars. In fact, the unique variant of American life that we call Afro-American culture germinated in the bosom of this Afro-Christianity, in the Afro-Christian church congregations.

- Cornel West ("Race and Modernity," from his Reader, pages 61-63, 63)

#African American #history #Baptist #Christianity #Methodist #slavery #United States #mass conversion

[madwomansapologist]

Hiiii 💛💛💛 here's an idea, Mary's Song by taylor swift (an underrated masterpiece!) + your favorite member of the Fellowship of the ring (LOTR) 💖💖💖

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: Mary's Song (Oh My My My)

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Aragorn | #taylor swift writing challenge | AO3

synopsis: Elrond wanted you to remain in Rivendell, but you needed to represent the Vale Elves in the Fellowship of the Ring. And you needed to make sure Aragorn was okay.

warnings: DO IT FOR FRODO. Boromir lives

note: just the best song from debut. let's be honest, it was wrote about Aragorn and Arwen. thank you for your request, you're a big inspiration for me :)

Boromir tried to light the fire, but Pippin and Merry insisted for him to teach them more about combat. Boromir complained and continued to work on the fire, but you could see his smile at the constant requests. In your opinion, the only being capable of being truly irritated with the two hobbits is Gandalf.

Frodo sat beside you at the beginning of the cave and imitated you, observing the trail. You both could see Aragorn's back, who was taking advantage of the moonlight in search of fresh meat. "How did you both meet?" Frodo asked, now glaring at you.

"It's a long story." You always found intriguing how his eyes seen to contain sparks.

Frodo opened his mouth, but you already knew what he would say. "We have time for that."

"We do, mister Frodo." You looked for Aragorn, just to make sure he was safe and sound, and turned your body towards the hobbit. Gimli was out there with him, they will be fine. "I was seven. He was nine."

Elrond welcomed him into the Valley with open arms. Men were few among the Elves, but Aragorn was never a strange presence. He was just a kid who needed a home. And there is no shortage of houses in the Valley.

You remember the house in the backyard tree. Sometimes you want to get back. Not only to that house, but to that time. You remember how you both would scream at one another, enraged by the pranks that the other made. Aragorn always said he'd beat you up, and he was bigger than you. He never did. Never.

It was easier. Life was easier. You remember the stars shining, how the sky was somehow bigger than it's now. That moment when the world was a valley wide. When Sauron, power rings and a war were just bedtime tales.

You told Frodo about how you dared him to kiss you and you were ten. Ashamed, you ran when Aragorn tried. That night you slept well.

Just two kids. Aragorn and you.

Suddenly you wasn't just a little girl and Aragorn weren't a little boy anymore. When you're sixteen, something changed. Elrond jokes with other elves stopped being just jokes.

It was about the time you both started fighting. Slamming of doors instead of hugging goodnight. You remember all the times you both fight and you ran to your room, just to find out on the next morning that he stayed outside waiting for you.

"A few years had gone and come around", you told Frodo. "We were sitting at our favorite spot in Rivendell. Right in front of the river. And Aragorn looked at me, got down on one knee."

"And what did you say?" Pippin asked. Now everyone was paying attention. "Don't stop at the best part!"

"I've said I do." You proudly stated, showing the silver ring on your hand. Gandalf smiled to himself, remembering you walking down the aisle.

"It was beautiful", said Legolas. "You were beautiful."

For today, that was the end of your story. But you know that one day it will take longer to tell it. Because one you'll talk about rocking your baby on that very front porch Aragorn asked you to be his.

You'll be eighty-seven, Aragorn will be eighty-nine. You'll still look at him like the stars that shine, telling that story for your child's child. It would be a great song. Yes, it would.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #ask box #taylor swift #taylor swift writing challenge #aragorn #aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn x y/n #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings x y/n #lord of the rings x you #aragorn imagine #aragorn fic #lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #lotr #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr x y/n #lotr fic #lotr aragorn #frodo baggins #frodo baggins x reader #merry and pippin #pippin x reader #merry x reader #gandalf

[tathrin]

6. Favorite character in all of Tolkien's work?

Legolas. I realize this is probably the most transparent answer of all time and you probably wanted something more interesting, but I love his unflaggingly upbeat spirits in the midst of such a bleak quest, and his sassiness, and I love that he's at once one of the more chill elves we meet and yet also ready to throw hands at a moment's notice. He's just an utter DELIGHT...and then when you throw in the heartbreak of the Sea-Longing (which gets me in ways that I cannot even articulate and always has) and the fact that he stayed despite that until all his friends were gone except for Gimli, whom he took with him omfg—! Like, not to sound like Gimli on main, but how do you look at this utterly absurd elf and NOT love him?

HOW DO YOU NOT WEEP AND FALL IN LOVE AT THIS:

And now Legolas fell silent, while the others talked, and he looked out against the sun, and as he gazed he saw white sea-birds beating up the River. 'Look!' he cried. 'Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.' 'Say not so!' said Gimli. 'There are countless things still to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay.'

Add to that the fact that I've been obsessed with elves literally forever, I mean before I ever read LotR, and he was The Elf of the Fellowship...I mean, I would have fallen in love with him anyway on that basis alone, because he's The Elf we get to spend the most time with, but the fact that his introduction is just "a strange elf clad in green and brown"...that's it, Frodo? That's all you can say about him? He's "strange" and dressed like a tree? LMAO. Come on, he's ridiculous from the moment we meet him, of course I love him. And then "I go to find the sun"? MY GODS. THIS FUCKER. YES.

And then him and Gimli? Who absolutely should not be friends AT ALL, but end up being so fucking entwined that they sail to Valinor forever...!? Who go from zero-to-sixty in like two weeks, and are then so ride-or-die that they're even ride beyond death, fuck. "Yet you comfort me..." / "He stands not alone!" / "While Gimli lives, I shall not come to Fangorn alone..." / "Where you go, I will go..." / We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Glóin's son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf. If this is true, then it is strange indeed: that a Dwarf should be willing to leave Middle-earth for any love, or that the Eldar should receive him, or that the Lords of the West should permit it...

HOW DO YOU NOT LOVE THIS MOTHERFUCKER.

(And that's not even adding-in my own personal interpretation of Mirkwood as a bunch of half-feral unhinged cryptids.)

#i have a normal amount of feelings about mirkwood elves #anyway thank you SO much for asking and letting me rant about my favorite feral tree-boy #legolas #lotr headcanon #lotr meta #lotr #elves #ask meme #lotr 20 questions #favorite characters #this ship sails itself all the way to valinor #gimleaf

[lyrithim]

[ColinDeli] For Old Times' Sake

Summary: After the end of the Ravening War, Colin and Deli journey briefly together to the Meatlands and do not sleep together. Pairing: Deli/Colin Word Count: 1,304 Rating: M AO3 Link

Dawn was beautiful rising from these frozen shores. Colin had forgotten. Or maybe he never looked closely enough when he had the chance. For a second, watching the folds of frail golden light sweep over the tundra, Colin could almost forgive Deli for everything he had done—could almost forgive himself.

“Up ahead,” Deli said beside him. Past the fork in the road, almost obscured by mist, there was a small thatched hut in the crevice between two great mountains.

Colin was a little surprised. There? That was Deli’s safehouse?

“Yes,” Deli replied. Then, correcting himself, he said, “Here was where I spent my boyhood.”

They were a full day’s ride away from the closest village. Years ago, the Chieftess had told Colin how she had raised Deli outside of her clan, forsaken by her kinsmen because of a fatherless pregnancy. Here the Chieftess had nursed Deli. Then, when Deli could walk, she returned to her clan and sought revenge on the men who had usurped her and her son’s birthright.

It had only been a week since the last treaty was signed and the war had ended—the war that they were now calling the Ravening War. To the victors fell the spoils; among the victors were the spoils divided. Men who had never before dreamt of riches were transformed by the sudden flood of titles and lands from Ceresian tributes. These men eyed those in the rungs above, where among others Deli stood.

Deli’s absence in the final battle of the war was noted. His mixed parentage was reexamined among the Meatland troops. Basha was loathed to let go his best advisor, his kingmaker. But Basha’s reign had been brief, despite his military victories, and therefore fragile. Deli told Colin that he did not want to force Basha’s hand, but Colin knew that Deli was tired of fighting.

Colin was not. He could no more forget Raphaniel’s last screams and those teeth, those damn teeth of the Fellowship’s god, than he could sheath his sword. Since leaving Saprophus, Colin had been seized with a restlessness he had never before experienced. At the center of the restlessness was a terrible and intoxicating thing: a direction. All his life he had run away from this or that, drifted away, refused to engage, acted in the negative. For revenge, he now became clear-eyed. His life’s mission would be to hunt down the last of the Fellowship until the end of this land. He held this belief without embarrassment.

A hand on his shoulder. Deli’s. “Can we rest for a bit?”

Of course, Colin told him.

They set up camp by a river that was frozen over violently: the surface roiled with stilled currents, and huge solid white waves soared against the river banks. But the river itself was suffocated into silence.

Colin went through familiar motions: arranging twigs around dry land, gathering frost for water, raising the soup pot, waiting as Deli dashed together two pop rocks against the tinder. They stoked the fire. It grew warm and comfortable. Colin took off his outer coat, and Deli took off the fur draped over his bare shoulders.

They ate. This would be the last meal they would have together for some time. Colin understood this. He was serene in this fact—that was, until Deli spoke.

“We were here once,” Deli said.

Did they? Colin did not recognize the place.

“The river looks different now,” Deli said, gesturing in front of them. “It had been flowing. It was summer. And we weren’t here, exactly. We were somewhere more upstream or downstream. But we had pitched a tent around by a grand white fish-bone fir. It was steady. It saved us from the storm.”

Colin remembered now. Not the river or the fir tree, but the memory that Deli had been guiding him towards. It had been so early after they had left Comida. Deli, much younger, exuberant, had won the approval of his kinsmen and been named emissary on behalf of the clan that morning. It was all that was on Deli’s mind and in the glint of Deli’s eye.

In the evening, they had laid next to each other as usual. There had been no fire in the tent; their only source of heat was each other. The storm had lapped against the tent flap. Icy raindrops had sought to penetrate their thin canvas of a roof. They would have died of the cold if either the canvas or the entrance had given in. But little of this mattered to them. Colin listened to Deli talk about a beautiful future and a beautiful world for his people. There would be happiness, Deli said, and Colin had indeed felt great happiness. Then Deli had stopped, looked over at Colin, and kissed him.

“You were the one who told me that I should save myself for someone I loved,” Deli said now. They had proceeded no further that evening.

“I remember,” Colin told him.

“But I do love you.”

The confession stunned him, but it did not surprise him. It was a plunge into a cold pool—the body adjusted to the shock in a heartbeat. Love, love, love. Colin loved him. Of course Colin loved him. How long had Colin loved him. But they were past the time—the biological age? the historical epoch?—when a passionate confession could remedy all ills. How much time had they had to reexamine themselves and each other? How much time had they to say those words of love? Colin wanted to tell Deli that he loved him. The Colin of all of their travels together threatened to burst from Colin’s throat: I do love you too, I do. But Colin held himself back. It was restraint with the slightest edge of malice. Colin knew that he could hurt Deli then. Was it cruel of Colin to still want that power over Deli? He almost wanted to hurt him. Was there a part of him that thought the act of refusal ensured he would stay that much longer in Deli’s mind? Did he think Deli saw Karna when Deli looked at him? Was this fear that he felt fear for himself or fear for Deli?

Instead, he kissed Deli for the second time in his life. Deli kissed him back. What a lovely sight they now made: two figures intertwined together by a fire, the clansman’s bare back against the light and the cold, the man beneath him willing and pliant. How deeply they kissed each other then, as though they would never let each other go.

It would live forever in Colin: this kiss, this love of his, Deli, the young prince, his youth, Colin’s youth. Colin knew it. But everything became a memory as soon as they begun; Colin anticipated the end as soon as they started. Already he was living in the future, looking back curiously, the present in retrospective. He felt desire, he thought. He felt Deli’s desire too. Deli was trembling, was grasping at him, holding onto him, pulling him in by the collar in one moment, pushing Colin into the frozen ground in the next, clashing teeth, nipping at his lips, digging into his skin, forcing Colin to take shape as a physical entity. But Colin only held Deli in an embrace.

And Deli finally gave up on Colin. Deli’s kisses slowed, grew gentle. Then Deli broke away. Colin did not protest. Deli lifted his face to the sky and let go of Colin.

-

Later, on the path back to the harbor, Colin could not be sure, but he thought he spotted it near the horizon: that great fish-bone fir by the river, whose spine stretched into the heavens, next to which he and Deli had set up shelter together so many years ago.

#dimension 20 #colindeli #colin provolone #thane delissandro katzon #the ravening war #fanfiction #it has been two years since i last posted fic #life comes at you fast

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Fourteen

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

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

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

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

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

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

Rating: T 

Word Count: 4.5k

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

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

Previous chapters can be found here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you know the halflings?”

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

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

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

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

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

She was not wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell her what, my lord?”

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

“My lord?”

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

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

“Faramir!”

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

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

“Where is Kaia? Have you seen her?”

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

“She was wounded? What happened?”

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

“Did you talk to her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you lost your mind?”

“This is not the time.”

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t I believe that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is. I tried. But—”

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

“I did, yes. And as a result—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not this time. 

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

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

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

“Father, Osgiliath was overrun—” Faramir began.

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

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

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

“Did you hear me?”

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

“Then we understand each other.”

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

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

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

“And if you do not return?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I saw how she looked at you.”

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

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

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

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

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

But, the other part of him�� 

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least, he’d thought he wasn’t. 

“My lord?”

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

Woolgathering.

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

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

Relief surged through him. “Good.” 

“She’s asked for you.”

His spine stiffened at that. “She did?”

“Yes.”

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

“Go and talk to her.”

“Is she awake?”

“No, but she should be soon.” 

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

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

“Might I fetch you anything, my lord?”

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

“Of course.”

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

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

Until he made things right with her. 

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

[mushroomates]

frodo headcanons:

has a picking cabinet. sam knows of this. merry and pippin do not. frodo is very paranoid and worries about them finding out.

reads multiple books at the same time and sometimes combines elements or characters when referencing them and creates a new, better story

enjoys embroidery. likes to do little plants and animals over small holes, makes patches for friends.

tries to coerce nearby cats to come to him for pets. he is mostly successful.

feeds the strays of the shire (they’re not strays, mr. frodo, and the proudfoots kindly ask that you refrain from fattening up their cat)

has a old quilt that he’s very fond of and guards with his life. it’s made by some great aunt or another, and is terribly comfy.

horrible sleep schedule. almost non existent. will wander around the shire in the dead of night for “a breath of fresh air”

has scared many families while doing this and has been threatened several times

used to call gandalf grandpa. actually did on the fellowships journey. was mocked relentlessly for it.

falls asleep to the rain rather quickly. any bodies of water make him sleepy. he enjoys ocean waves, rushing rivers, babbling brooks and the quiet patter on his windowsill.

loves the beach. collects sea shells.

can not keep plants alive. does not bother, as sam steps in anyways.

has nicknames for people, mostly in his head. sometimes will let them slip. sam is sammy-boy, pippin is pipper or pippy, gandalf is gander. always refers to merry as Meridoc in his head as it’s somehow funnier.

he gets this from bilbo, who also gave his friends/relatives nicknames behind their back. they’d giggle and gossip together using said names.

used to call bilbo “bibbo”. uncle bibbo was all the shire referred to him for a while before the threat of no more bag-end parties was made.

he likes oranges and nuts, but in the summer he likes a good plum.

favorite seasons are winter and the beginings of spring when it’s still rainy. hates the heat.

might be allergic to pollen and/or lavender. still keeps flowers by his bedside and eats lavender tarts.

all couches, chairs and daybeds are piled high with throw pillows and blankets. it’s hard to sit down without being swamped by them.

used to pretend to be an elf as a kid. was horrified to learn bilbo spread this information to the rivendell elves.

sings songs frequently and in public. no one minds this.

likes the idea of hats, looks horrible in them and they mess up his hair anyhow.

cannot wrap presents well

#frodo #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #the shire #bag end #hobbits #bagend #middle earth #jrr tolkien #legolas #gandalf #lotr #pippin #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #the hobbit #merry and pippin #hobbit #pippin took #merry brandybuck #brandybuck #bilbo baggins #the hobbit bilbo #the hobbit frodo #elves #wholesome #lord of the rings headcanons #my dear frodo #frodo and sam #hobbit hole

[mariacallous]

(JTA) — A catalog of calamities is central to the liturgy of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Jewish High Holidays that begin later this week.

We Jews are asked to imagine ourselves perched on the precipice of life and death. Nothing frames it as starkly as Unetaneh Tokef, the roll call of ruin enumerating various disasters that might befall us in the coming year.

With its repetition of “Who by …” fill-in-the-blank awfulness — strangling, stoning, famine and plague — the medieval poem is the stuff of myth and legend, an opportunity to ponder fate and frailty. But for the Jews of Ukraine, the majority of whom remain in the country despite the ongoing conflict, the text is heart-wrenchingly real.

When we Jews pray, we face east, toward Jerusalem. But as the grandson of a Ukrainian Jew, east always conjures “the old country” — that’s where my soul calls home and where I’ve often directed my most fervent prayers. This year, Unetaneh Tokef is a compass for my heart.

I’m sure “who by water” resonates for Lyubov Irzhanskaya. When the Kakhovka dam burst in June, the Dnipro River surged into her second-floor apartment. The 76-year-old retired teacher had hours to decide where to flee.

“Who by fire” must send a chill through Lyudmila Dobroyer, 87 — a Holocaust survivor and the primary caregiver for her son Yuriy, who has developmental disabilities. During attacks on Odesa this summer, her building was badly damaged.

And then there are more workaday terrors, fears that keep me up at night half a world away in my safe Ohio bed. What if I lost my job and couldn’t provide for my family? What if it happened amidst power cuts and sub-zero cold?

“Who shall become impoverished” — ask Evgeniy Moshkovitch, 40, a forklift operator who fled Kherson with his family two months into the crisis. With employers skeptical of the displaced, he’s unable to find a job and relies on Jewish community assistance to pay the bills.

Grim as it is, Unetaneh Tokef isn’t about blindly submitting to fate. Instead, it gives us the keys to our own salvation — ”repentance, prayer, and charity,” it exhorts, “can lessen the severity of the decree.”

Our own hands can rescue us, and post-Soviet Jews, who’ve doggedly rekindled identity and community after the Holocaust and communism, could teach a master class. As a longtime staffer at the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC, the humanitarian organization that for decades has aided needy Jews and built Jewish life across the former Soviet Union, I’ve seen it firsthand.

In Ukraine, I’ve witnessed local Jews volunteering for relief efforts in record numbers and my colleagues delivering over 800 tons of humanitarian aid, home care to the bedridden and Shabbat gatherings during air-raid sirens. We’re also addressing new waves of need: unemployment, educational gaps and trauma — all with an imperative to strengthen lives, even if peace remains elusive.

Hidden in Unetaneh Tokef’s horrors are some best-case scenarios, too: “who shall be exalted,” “who shall reach the fullness of their days.” What if it all goes right, the prayer asks? What if we sustain each other? What if we write our most vulnerable into the High Holidays’ symbolic Book of Life?

We can do that by marshaling our resources, as my organization has done since February 2022 with tens of millions of dollars from our partners — the Jewish Federations of North America, the Claims Conference, International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, individuals, families, corporations and foundations — and by lifting up individual stories so we understand the stakes if we fail to act.

For centuries, Jews have debated the identity of the nameless Unetaneh Tokef writer who gave voice to the cruel uncertainty of human existence and the possibility of redemption even in the darkness.

That anonymity hasn’t blunted the poem’s cold wisdom — life will often disappoint you, but it just might surprise you, too. I’ve learned that by listening to other Jews who could just as easily be lost to history and have just as much to teach.

In western Ukraine earlier this year, I met Liliya Sumka, the last Jew in a small village only accessible by dirt roads. A 54-year-old widow with cerebral palsy, she ekes by on a $52 monthly disability pension.

For her, the difference between “who shall live and who shall die” is sometimes the stack of firewood and food packages delivered by my organization — or finding God in her own still small voice reciting the Shabbat blessings.

“Life?” Liliya chided me with a wry smile. “You can’t make it through that alone.”

May we all remember that, recognizing that we only get to fullness by giving it — showing up with full hearts and a full commitment to aiding those living on a knife’s edge around the clock, not just in the pages of our prayer books.

[aurora-daily]

Music recommended and/or mentioned by AURORA!

ABBA - Thank You For The Music

Advanced Language

Agnes Obel - Falling, Catching / Riverside / Dorian / The Curse (Robert Hampson Remix)

Air - Sexy Boy

Alice Phoebe Lou and Olmo - Devil's Sweetheart

Alt J - Fitzpleasure / Hunger of The Pine / Pulsher

Amanda Delara (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Amanda Tenfjord (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

And Still I Rise - Wrecking Ball

Ane Brun - A Temporary Dive / All We Want is Love / Do You Remember

Anna of the North - Lovers

Annie Lennox - No More "I Love You's"

Antônio Carlos Jobim - Samba De Uma Nota Só

A Perfect Circle - The Outsiders / Weak And Powerless / Passive / Thirteen Steps (album)

Asbjørn - The Love You Have in You / Asbjørn

Askjell - The First Goodbye / L O S T M Y C O O L / Sofia

The Beatles - Tomorrow Never Knows / Revolver (album)

Beck - Blue Moon

Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (Glenn Morrison’s version)

Bee Gees - How Deep Is Your Love

Beverly Glenn-Copeland - Sunset Village

Bjork -  Army of Me / Homogenic (album) / Human Behaviour / Hyperballad / Joga / Unravel / Violently Happy / All Is Full Of Love (Howie's Version)

The Black Keys - Lonely Boy 

Blondie - Heart Of Glass

Bob Dylan -  Emotionally Yours / Political World / Mr. Tambourine Man (live version) (mentioned as the first song she dug)

Cameron James Laing - The Way

Cats of Transistria - Good Night

Céline Dion - My Heart Will Go On (Titanic)

The Chemical Brothers -  Another World / Galvanize / Escape 700 / Hanna's Theme

Cher - Believe

Childish Gambino - This Is America

Claude Debussy, Alexis Weissenberg - Claire de Lune (mentioned as a song that impacted her as a child)

Cocteau Twins - Heaven Or Las Vegas

Coldplay - Fix You

College/Electric Youth - A Real Hero (mentioned as the song that got her through her teen angst)

The Cranberries - Dreams  

Crystal Castles - Air War / Celestica / Sad Eyes / Untrust Us

Daft Punk - Digital Love

Damien Rice - Cannonball /  Delicate / Volcano

Daughter - Youth

David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust / Blackstar (album) / Life On Mars? / Let’s Dance

dePresno - Forever

Dido - Here with Me 

Dina Ögon - Tombola 94

DNKL - Hunt

Dolores O'Riordan - When We Were Young

Ed Sheeran- No Diggity vs. Thrift Shop (& Passenger, Kygo Remix) / I See Fire (Kygo Remix)

Edith Piaf - La Vie en Rose (mentioned as a song which makes her cry)

Edvard Grieg - Morning Mood (Morgenstemning) / Solveig’s Song

Enya - Amarantine / May It Be / Storms In Africa / Ebudae / Boadicea / Watermark / The Memory of Trees (album) 

Eric Whitacre - Lux Aurumque

EvighetenYoung (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Fever Ray - When I Grow Up

Fka Twigs - Water Me

Fleetwood Mac - Big Love / Landslide

Florence + The Machine - No Light, No Light / Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)

Frankie Valli - Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Gabrielle - 5 fine frøkner

Gaahls WYRD (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Gojira -  Explosia / Mouth of Kala (mentioned as a song she loves that might surprise people)

Goldmund -  Image-Autumn-Womb

Great News - Now And Them (album)

Grimes - Flesh Without Blood

HALIE (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Hans Zimmer - Cornfield Chase

Henry Mancini & His Orchestra And Chorus - Moon River

Howard Shore - The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring: Main Theme (mentioned as a song that she wishes she had written)

Imogen Heap -  Headlock / Hide And Seek

Iris -  Romance is Dead / lavender and heaven (mentioned as the song she wants played at her wedding)

Japanese Breakfast - Paprika

Jenny Hval - Golden Locks / Mephisto in the Water

John Williams - Hedwig's Theme (mentioned as a song she wishes that she had made)

John Wizards - Tet Lek Schrempf

Jóhann Jóhannsson - Arrival (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) / Kangaru

Johnny Cash (mentioned as the artist she likes)

Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now

Kate Bush - Cloudbusting / Babooshka

Khold - Myr

Kimbra - Top of the World

Kishi Bashi - I Am the Antichrist to You

Kvelertak (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful

Leif Vollebekk - Elegy

Leonard Cohen - Famous Blue Raincoat (Live) /  Suzanne (Live) /  The Partisan (mentioned as an important song which her parents listened to) /  You Want It Darker (album) / It Seemed the Better Way / Greatest Hits (album) / Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye 

Lorde (mentioned as the artist she would like to collaborate with) 

Lou Bega -  Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit Of...)

Madonna - Frozen / Drowned world/Substitute for Love

Madrugada - Majesty

Marilyn Manson - Tainted Love

Massive Attack - Daydreaming /  Teardrop

Mastodon - The Hunter / High Road

Masterdon (mentioned as the artist she likes)

Matt Maltese - As the World Caves In

Max Richter - On the Nature of Daylight

Metteson - Under Your Shirt

Miki Matsubara - 真夜中のドア/ Stay With Me

Moby - Porcelain / A Seated Night

Moyka - Colder

Naaz (mentioned as the artist she likes)

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds ft. Kylie Minogue - Where The Wild Roses Grow

Nick Drake - Pink Moon

Nicholas Hooper - When Ginny Kissed Harry

O. Martin - Nowhere Is Home

Paolo Nutini - Everywhere

Phoebe Bridgers - Smoke Signals

Poliça - Happy Be Fine

Prince - Sexuality

Put Your Hands Up for Neo-Tokyo - Get By

Queen - Under Pressure

Radiohead - No Surprises

RED MOON (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

RHODES - Turning Back Around

Rockettothesky - Grizzly Man (mentioned as the first song discovered on her own)

Röyksopp & Robyn - Monument 

Robot Koch - Nitesky (feat John LaMonica)

Rudimental - Waiting All Night ft. Ella Eyre

Rusted Root - Send Me on My Way

RY X - Berlin

Sarah Brightman - Eden

SEA CHANGE - Above

Secret Garden - Windancer / Windancer

Seigmen - Monument

Sei Selina - Only When You’re Asleep

Sigur Ros - Svefn-g-englar 

Silja Dyngeland / Silja Sol - Stemning (DC#27) / Løgneren / Skrubbsår

Silvana Estrada - Lo Sagrado (album)

Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2U

Slayer (mentioned as an artist she likes)

Solå (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)Sondre Lerche - Why Would I Let You Go / Wrecking Ball (cover) / Palindromes / Sentimentalist / Lucifer / Bad Law / Patience/ I Love You Because It's True

Strange Hellos (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

Stromae - L’enfer

Sufjan Stevens (mentioned as an artist she was excited to see at Panorama NYC festival 2016)

Susanne Sundfør - Silencer / White Foxes

Sushi x Kobe (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

System of a Down -  Violent Pornography

Tame Impala - Let It Happen

The Prodigy -  Voodoo People / Smack My Bitch Up

The Secret Sisters - Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

Thomas Newman - American Beauty: Original Motion Picture Score

Tigran Hamasyan + Arve Henriksen + Eivind Aarset + Jan Bang - Hoy, Nazan / Holy

Tool - Aenema

Underworld (mentioned as an artist she’d collaborate with) - Born Slippy / Rez / To Heal / 1992-2012 (album she would put it at a rave party as a DJ) / Born Slippy (mentioned as the song that she listened to the most when she first started driving)

Vilde Tuv - Cellevevet / Det blåser ingen vinder inni huset

Wardruna - Yggdrasil (album) / Runaljod - Ragnarok (album) / Fehu / Algir-Tognatale

WDSTCK - Flowers

Wim Mertens - Iris

Wintergatan - Sommarfågel

Woodkid - Iron

Wolf Alice - How Can I Make It Ok?

The XX - Intro

Young Dreams (suggested as an artist she recommends listening)

And overall music without words like soundtracks, movie pieces or classical music

Sources (in no particular order and some might be missing as I’ve been working on that since February 2021):

“Aurora feirer Grieg” on NRK 2018, i-D interview “city guide: bergen with aurora”, INDIE mag interview “BLESSING OUR EARS WITH AURORA’S DEBUT ALBUM” 2016, Records In My Life (interview 2016), 2014 interview for GAFFA, Auto-Tune Interview for DIFFUS 2019, Aurora guest programs Rage 2019, NRK radio show “AURORA Up Close” 2017, “Like A Bird In The Night: Clash Meets Aurora” 2019 interview, Spotify Greenroom Wrapped 2021 With AURORA and Sub Urban, Mixtape with the songs for Kzradio, #TBT Mixtape for Billboard, 2016 Artist Survey: AURORA for Under the Radar, Records In My Life (2019 Interview), Nordic Playlist #83, Nine Songs: AURORA for The Line of Best Fit 2019, NPR’s Guest DJ: AURORA On Her Love Of Heavy Metal And Leonard Cohen 2016, IG story from March 2020, IG story from September 2021, Interview - Panorama NYC 2016, Tweet from 2016, Spotify's music & talk show 10 Songs That Made Me 2021, Playlist for Weibo 2022, Interview for NRK 2014, Interview with Jamie Taylor 2016, Playful Playlist for i-D 2022, Midnight Mixtape for Deezer 2021, Daydreaming playlist for HIGHJINKX 2021, ChillDaBeats #038 2021, AURORA’s official SoundCloud channel, NRK P3 - Plateprat (record talk) 2017

Special thanks to Amroth for the support and additional resources provided! 🖤

#aurora #aurora aksnes #recommendations #can't believe I finally finished it happy holidays to all warriors hope you find this useful!