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itbmojojoejo · 8 months

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Indelicate Tenderness | Sihtric x Reader

Pairing: Sihtric x Ealdorman's Wife!Reader

Summary: Your marriage to a much older Ealdorman was a political move and the inability to produce an heir in the traditional manner leads to your husband suggesting you look to another man for assistance. The rules? He must be the right sort, keep emotions out of it, and no one can learn of the affair so that he can claim the child as his own.

Wordcount: 5.7k | Other works.

Warnings: MDNI18+ Content. No use of y/n. Talks of having a child, Infidelity, Unprotected PinV(I will not write about medieval contraception methods.) If I have missed anything please let me know!

Authors Note: A certain book/film has given me brain rot and I've decided to make it everyone's problem by spinning it into this mess. Enjoy. HUGE THANK YOU TO @arcielee FOR BETA READING THIS AND OFFERING HER WISDOM AND FIXING MY AWFUL PUNCTUATION XO

Straightening the muscles in his back, Sihtric effortlessly instructed his horse to ease from a trot to a slow walk as he, Finan, and the band of men they had been ordered to bring to a struggling estate owned by the ageing Lord Eadwold approached the large oak gates on the edge of the walled property.

Dismounting in the courtyard, he took in the mixture of stone and wooden buildings while guiding his steed to the stables as directed by a household guard and the group were met by Eadwold. The Lord’s hair was starting to grey and thin in places, with almost translucent papery thin skin that was beginning to sag under his light eyes. Sihtric imagined he was the type of man who had not shied away from battle in his younger years, but now a strong gust of wind could be all it took to knock him off his feet.

“How were the roads, gentlemen?” The old man greeted them croakily.

“Very quiet, lord.” Finan offered with a polite smile.

“Ah, I doubt a ruckus would bother you fellows too much.”

Sihtric willed his face to remain as neutral as he could listening to the old man ramble on about the raids ravishing the borders of his lands and how the men of his guard and fyrds could do with some decent training, but as he removed his packs from the horse he felt eyes on him.

What was supposed to be a quick glance, expecting only to find a curious servant sneaking a peek at the strangers in their home, he found you. Lingering on the edge of the stables with curious eyes, the sun glowing in your hair and glinting off the ornate pendants hanging from different chains around your neck and rings adorning your delicate fingers.

“Ah! There you are, my dear. Look at what the Lord Uhtred has sent our way, as promised by the king!” Eadwold’s smile met his crinkling eyes.

With the sentiment of dear spoken Sihtric thought you may have been a daughter, or another relative due to the blatant difference in age. You were one of the prettiest women he had seen in these lands, he thought it a crime that you would be kept inside the walls of a distant estate far away from anyone to admire your beauty.

“This is my lady wife,” Eadwold gestured for you to come closer with his proud-like introduction and Finan shot a quick side glance to Sihtric, they had heard that the Lord’s wife was younger but they were still surprised, “Off on another one of your walks?”

All the mens eyes darted to the muddied leather boots just visible at the elegantly embroidered hem of your dress, belted at the waist with a sheathed dagger, its hilt intricately decorated. A fine little weapon for a fine woman, Sihtric mused.

“Yes, I think I need the air.” You laughed lightly, but Sihtric caught the way your smile fell from your lips all too quickly to be genuine.

“Perhaps you could show the men down to the lodgings in the woods?” Just as you opened your mouth to respond to your husband, he cut you off, turning back to look at Finan, “Wonderful stonework left behind by those clever Romans, I think it will suit your needs.”

Your hand reached out and gently touched Eadwold’s arm covered by rich blue robes to divert his attention back to you. “My Lord, perhaps the men would like to be fed? Given some ale too, possibly? I imagine they have had a long journey.”

“That would be delightful, lady.” Finan enthused, the promise of ale was always enough to make him forget a sore arse from travelling.

“I shall have Osgar show you the way after you are rested, then.” Eadwold nodded to the two men then looked expectantly at his young wife,

“Lord, gentlemen.” You half bowed and took your leave.

Where is your escort? Does he really let something as lovely as you wander freely? Sihtric’s inner thoughts spun as he watched your graceful steps carrying you off, but then you glanced back and he was unable to look away.

The reason for your walk that afternoon wasn’t just for physical air, but an attempt at clearing the tangled thoughts in your head. You had been cooped up inside that hall for such a long time now it felt as though you were being slowly suffocated with a strange sense of loneliness, surrounded by people yet feeling the most alone you ever had.

It’s not that your husband was cruel, although it certainly felt that way sometimes with his dismissive comments and not allowing you to take leave so you may visit with your family. He had his rule of you always having to stay close and watch over him playing Lord of his lands, but in reality you were merely a decorative possession.

A pretty young woman gifted to him by another ealdorman to bolster the wealth his lands needed as well as a son so that he might have an heir, but therein laid the issue, as your husband was an older man who had some difficulties when it came to marital duties.

Your husband had his fears and worries, he knew that it would not be a traditional marriage with his ailment, as he referred to it, but for all appearances people must believe it to be so. With the pair of you coming to terms with what your marriage was, a sort of trust was built where you could share your thoughts openly with one another, an attempt at companionship and a life lived together.

A discussion that Eadwold had begun over a game of Tafl had taken you aback,

“Perhaps there is another way you can give me a son.” He rasped, twisting one of the Muscovites between his fingers.

“Another way?”

“Yes, I am certain a man would not say no if you were to...” Eadwold said, gesturing his hand towards your body with a sway to his shoulders.

“Offer myself up like a piece of meat?” You laughed at his audacious suggestion.

“Aren’t we all just sacks of meat?” He questioned, probably imagining himself to be wise, “We wouldn’t be the first to raise a bastard.”

Even with freedoms most Lady’s were not given and permission to have an affair for the sake of a son you had an air of sadness around you, one that would linger in your wake for others to see but your husband remained blind to it. By ignorance or choice you did not know, and as the days turned into weeks you came to the conclusion that motherhood would at least give you a sense of purpose, something to pour your unspent love into.

You still had a sense of unease at the entire suggestion, the shame that would befall you if it were ever discovered how you came to be with a child. There must have been rumours about you or your husband whispered in corners due to the lack of a shared bedroom and a child, you had been married for long enough that you should have at least had one by now.

And so as you walked out the large doors of the opulently decorated house you were beginning to despise, into the afternoon sun for a moment's escape, the sound of your husband's raspy droning accompanied by the voice of an Irishman caught your attention near the stables.

Who your eyes landed on did not belong to the bearded man of Irland, but the quiet man looking as bored as you felt during most conversations with Eadwold, who was removing packs from his horse. He had dark curls shorn to the scalp on one side, with bronze arm bands glimmering against the dark blue short sleeved tunic covering his biceps, and to your surprise a pagan pendant hanging from his neck.

He had not spoken a single word as you suggested the men be allowed to rest before being escorted to their lodgings, which only fuelled your curiosity of who you were to play host to until the lands were able to defend their own borders without the assistance of the other Ealdormen.

After taking your leave to continue with the walk and risking a peek over your shoulder, you found the unknown pagan still watching, the sun glistening in his hazel eyes, causing you to quickly avert your gaze with a warmth blooming in your cheeks. It felt girlish to have a reaction like that to a stranger, and a heathen at that, but you couldn’t deny that he was handsome.

Later that evening at supper you asked your husband why he had put the men all the way out in the woods and not allowed them to remain within the walls, there was plenty of space available for them to use in the barracks after all. He admitted he was not trusting of them,

“Some of them are Danes themselves, I find it hard to believe that they actually fight against their own… but who am I to speak on the simple mind of a heathen, they go where the silver takes them I imagine,” Eadwold mused, swilling his ale tankard.

“They are here to keep your land safe, you could show a little gratitude.”

“Those are fine lodgings they’ve been given, as well as food and ale! I would say that’s enough gratitude shown,” he croaked, and you simply picked at the meat on your plate with a sigh.

Over the next few days you found yourself watching over the training yard from the high walls surrounding the perimeter of the estate. The name of the Dane your eyes always landed on was still unknown to you, and no matter how hard you tried to take in the other people down below practising their sword work, it was him who always held your attention as he guided footwork and techniques.

Every so often his gaze would flicker up and meet your own, and at first you thought yourself to be imagining the slight quirk of his mouth, yet the next time his eyes wandered up he wet his plump bottom lip as a smile grew causing the warmth to hit your cheeks once more.

In the late afternoon you were found by your husband lacing up the leather boots you kept solely for walking, the luxurious silk slippers you wore for general use discarded to the side.

“Another walk? All this sun will be doing you no good.”

“The sun has passed its highest point, and I shall keep to the shade.” You huffed pulling the laces tight.

“In the wood?”

“Yes.” You clipped.

“Oh, well if you must. Uhtred’s men are going to squash a band of raiders, if you pass that way be sure to offer them a prayer.”

“Of course,” you stood, checking if your dagger was secure. “Did you need something before I go?” Eadwold stepped closer and spoke in a hushed tone to you,

“No, but I do wonder if you had thought on a particular issue?”

“I have, lord, but I do have some concerns.”

“Speak freely, my dear.”

“Are you certain that this is what you would want? I am your wife after all.”

“Well I would not want you to yield yourself to another man completely, and if you were to govern your emotions accordingly this can remain uncomplicated.”

“Uncomplicated.” You scoffed, nothing about any of this was uncomplicated. “And you would not mind which man’s child I bore?”

“He has to be the right sort, but I do trust your judgement with that, I highly doubt you would let just any man touch you. There is a matter of discretion of course, these lands depend on it.”

These lands, but what of my wellbeing? What if I wish to just spend my days here until you pass on so I may turn myself into the Order? Is what you wanted to say, instead you continued attempting to give him the responses he wanted.

“Would... would you expect me to tell you who the man was?”

“Best that I do not know.” And he took your warm hand in his bonier, cold grasp.

“Does an heir really mean this much to you, my lord?”

“It means everything. I know you can do this for us, for our legacy as leaders of lands. You do understand the importance of this, do you not?”

Trying your best to soften the almost pained expression gracing your face and managing a weak smile, your hand slipped from your husbands and youturned on your heel, taking a few deep inhales as you stepped over the threshold out into the warming sun, leaving the outlandish conversation behind you.

As the birds chirped overhead, skipping along full branches in their song, you toiled over the emotions rolling around inside the depths of a caged heart letting your feet blindly carry you further and further through the trees. Walking through the undergrowth with muted steps, you stumbled upon the stone outbuildings; all was quiet, except the wildlife and nearby stream lightly bubbling over its rocky bed.

Walking a little further past the group of small houses used by different attendants of the estate, you came to one that stood alone on the edge of willow trees, and beneath your feet myriads of bright wildflowers blanketed the ground. Unsheathing the dagger at your side you crouched and delicately began to cut them away so that you may take them home to decorate your room.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to flinch and snap your head towards the noise.

“Sorry my lady, I did not mean to startle you.” The unnamed Pagan held up his hands with a soft smile, instantly putting you at ease.

“It’s quite alright, I should be paying more attention to my surroundings,” You responded, awkwardly carrying on with your cutting.

“Are you... Does your lord husband know you wander this far from the house all alone?”

“He does, actually.” You huffed at the mention of Eadwold, but you regretted the tone you had used, as it was a simple question from a person who does not know you, “I, uh, hear you are off to deal with some raiders?”

“We are, lady, I was just going to the stables to meet the others now.”

“Then I will pray you all return safely.” You stood, eyes flickering over the hammer pendant hanging from his neck and internally cursed, “if that does not offend you, of course.”

His tongue quickly flicked out wetting his lips before pursing them to crush the small smile playing on his mouth.

“You can pray as you wish. I can escort you back?”

There was a distance between the pair of you as you strolled back through the woods, taking in the scent of moss and fauna, occasionally looking over to the man whose eyes always seemed to be averting yours with every glance.

“I have just realised you are helping my house yet I do not know your name?” You asked, fiddling with the flowers you grasped.

“I am Sihtric, lady.” He revealed in a smoky tone that had your brows flit up briefly.

“And the loud Irishman?”

He chuckled at your comment, stepping over a fallen tree you chose to walk around.

“Mm, Finan.”

Two days later, upon the return of the men, Lord Eadwold had agreed to the idea of letting the men feast in the hall with the two of you, as a thank you for all that they were doing. Sat beside him at the top of the table, you phased in and out the conversations around you; there wasn’t anything you could offer to the talks of war and swordsmanship.

It was as Eadwold was enthusiastically retelling the story of him fighting Britons to Finan, occasionally spilling ale from his tankard as he waved his arms around, that your eyes skirted over to Sihtric. He was smiling at Osgar who sat to his side locked into his own discussion, and you focused on the dark inking that decorated the side of his neck disappearing into his hair.

Eyes wandering further, you spotted the line work on each of his fingers that held his own ale tankard, what those hands could do you thought, and quickly sipped at your drink, willing your mind silent. Even so, your eyes drifted back to meet his, he gave a simple nod and smile returning to his conversation.

The following day, you decided to venture back to where you had found the wildflowers, collecting thin twigs of hazel and willow as you went. Making a sizable pile of flowers you settled against the trunk of the willow tree close to the little Roman lodge you had thought remained empty, only to be pulled from the therapeutic process of weaving your flowers by its door opening.

Having been gifted a couple of days rest by the Lord Eadwold, Sihtric decided he would take some time away from his group to sharpen his sword and seax in the confines of the humble one storey house he had claimed for himself. He liked the little crumbling mosaic pictures that adorned the walls and floor tiles, and he thought it a peaceful place.

As he slid the whetstone down the edge of his blades, the sun was temporarily blotted out by someone passing the window and caught his attention; he paused his movements to focus in on any sounds that might indicate who it was, but none came.

Carefully placing his sword on the table and sheathing his seax, he made the short distance to the window, sneaking a look with his head tilting to the side, and there you were again. The long branches of willow with their full leaves cascading from the sky around you, casting just enough shade to keep the sun from warming your soft skin too much.

Three times Sihtric told himself to move away and leave you be, but the first time he made the attempt, your brow had furrowed together in concentration and he felt the urge in his finger tips to smooth the crease away. The second time you had wet your pretty lips and leant closer to your hands, making the chains around your neck swing drawing his attention to the round cut of your dress just exposed your collar bones.

It was his third attempt that gave him pause for a different reason other than to secretly admire you, wondering if he should interrupt the very clear thought process you were having. Holding out the half completed wreath your fingers nimbly worked on, you held different flowers near it, trying to choose a pattern you didn’t seem entirely happy with.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling with a low grumble, Sihtric approached the door, making sure to open it with enough force to create sound so as not to startle you by silently appearing at your feet. Rounding the corner he met your gaze, your eyes sparkling and lips parted greeting him with a silvery tone,

“Sihtric.”

“Lady, I hope I’m not disturbing you?” He stepped closer as you shook your head at his question.

“No, I was just, busy hands mean a quiet mind.” You fiddled with the twisted twigs of the wreath in your hands.

“It looks pretty.”

“Hmm, I only wished I had some different flowers.”

This is why you came out here, tell her. He urged himself.

“There is more on the other side of the stream.” Sihtric gestured to bubbling water that could be heard through the willows.

“In the tall grasses?”

“I can show you, if you’d like?”

Keeping an arms distance between the two of you, Sihtric took you a little further through the willow’s to the edge of the stream where the water flowed slowly and after explaining that the brook wasn’t deep, he took a step down from the bank, only to realise he was wrong.

The cool waters soaked through his trousers in an instant to just below his knee, slowly turning with his brows raised and lips pressed together to prepare himself for a refusal and telling off that he would even suggest such a thing he was relieved to see you stifling laughter at his misjudgement.

“Uh, it is shallower near the other houses, lady.” He laughed.

“This is fine, just give me a moment.” You smiled.

Watching how you unlaced your boots to reveal bare feet felt like an oddly intimate thing for Sihtric to witness, and he struggled to avert his gaze as you gathered up your dress, holding the fabric up to your now exposed, luscious thighs.

He swallowed the lump growing in his throat and offered up his hand as you stepped closer to the edge of the bank, your skin felt warm against his and the squeal you let out at the cool water rushing up your legs followed by a hearty laugh that was music to his ears.

The smile on your face he could tell to be genuine compared to the others he had seen you so bravely try to wear around your husband, and as he hoisted you up into the tall grasses on the other side of the stream you placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, making you pause and look from your hand to his eyes, followed by your quiet voice,

“Thank you, Sihtric.”

Lightly clearing his throat, he stepped aside allowing you to walk into the green grasses littered with an array of purple and yellow flowers, watching your fingers lazily dance atop the greenery under the warm sky.

It was amongst nature that you sat quietly for a while, gathering up violet tulips and he was close by, leaning back propped up on an elbow watching little beetles clamber over the ground on their unknown journeys, occasionally stealing a look at you.

“May I ask you a question, lady?” He risked breaking your peace, his curiosity winning.

“You just did.” You smiled at him from under your lashes. “Ask it.”

“Why do you come all this way? Are you not needed at the house?”

“That was two.” You had criticised, eyes falling back to your lap, carrying on trimming stems with your dagger.

He quietly sighed and plucked a blade of grass thinking that he would not get a response from you, until you spoke up again with a slight frown and not looking at him.

“I am given the freedom to speak my mind, but my voice is not truly heard. I have no say in how that house or these lands are run, my presence is only missed when Eadwold wants advice on a matter he has already decided how to settle.”

A decoration to talk at, Sihtric thought, then his mind drifted to the thought of you having to survive the old man seeing and touching your nakedness. A painful existence, someone as pretty, no, beautiful as you having to let a wretch paw at you.

When you were ready to leave the peaceful meadow, he carried your bundle of flowers and clutched your hand helping you back through the stream; he watched your mood change as you readied to make the journey home, like someone had walked through a house blowing out candles as they went. The light has disappeared from her eyes.

The rare happiness that had swelled in your chest littered with fleeting thoughts of Sihtric had kept you moving through the next few days with ease, only dimming at the dinner table when your replies fell on deaf ears; Eadwold was carrying on his droning as if you had said nothing at all, or changing the topic when you were mid sentence.

Normally you could swallow it, but this evening as you sat at the table with him and his brother, Eadwig, it came to be too much.

“Perhaps you should have some of the younger lads trained with swords and shields now, pull in the servants' children too as a backup should you need it.” Eadwig’s equally raspy voice carried over the table.

“They are just boys, Eadwold,” you commented, not liking the idea one bit.

“They started much younger than they do now, you should have seen it! What were we? Not even 10 years of age when handed a real sword in place of the wooden things they use now,” Eadwig added.

You argued further. “The mothers will have a fright, you cannot.”

“Here comes the dramatics of a woman,” Eadwold griped.

“Caused by the ridiculous ideals of days long past.” You now fumed.

Abruptly leaving the table, you hurried through the corridors with no real sense of direction; it wasn’t until you were slipping out of a forgotten gate at the back of the estate with a cloak fastened around you that you realised you had not bothered to change your silk slippers for boots.

Looping around the perimeter close to the wall so as not to be spotted at this hour, as the deep golden sun hung low above the treetops, your feet carried you to the only peaceful place it could think of, the willow trees.

Walking with your eyes to the ground, you finally looked up at seeing the familiar wildflowers surrounding you, stopping in your tracks and a breath hitching in your throat.

“Lady.” Sihtric greeted with his look of surprise matching yours, chips of wood all around him and an axe in hand.

“What...” You fell silent taking in the sight before you. Three chopped trunks now sat in the stream, creating a dry pathway from one side to the other.

“I didn’t want you trying to cross it alone so I...” Sihtric started but your furrowed brows and parted lips made him stop, “Have I offended you, Lady?”

“No, this is wonderful.” Your voice came much quieter than you had liked.

Gingerly stepping to the edge of the bank, you toed the lump of wood and it didn’t budge; a smile crept onto your face as you stepped onto it, following the others to the opposite side and skimming your hands over the top of the long grass as you walked further into it. You had not noticed Sihtric silently trailing behind until he spoke up,

“The tree had already fallen, I thought it would have better use here than the forest floor.”

This act of care and a kindness shown hit your chest heavily, your mind ran wild with all the different emotions freely flowing in your veins for the first time in what felt like years. Before thinking it through you spun, throwing your arms around Sihtric’s neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He remained still with his arms held at his side, only bringing them around your waist when he felt you sob and whisper a small thank you to him.There was a gentle warmth emanating from his body and into your own; your grip dug into his shoulders, not wanting to let him go. It was only in this moment that you realised how desperately you ached for the touch of another person.

“My lady?”

“I’m sorry I just...” You reluctantly pulled back, wiping away tears that had fallen with the back of your fingers, avoiding his concerned gaze.

“I’ll give you a moment...”

“No,” you protested grabbing at his arm, and as you met his hazel eyes brought his hand up to your face. “Stay?” Your voice trembled against his knuckles as you ghosted your lips over his skin. You knew you shouldn’t be asking what you were, or in this manner, but you needed to be touched.

You watched the way a conflicted frown appeared before quickly disappearing; he cupped your cheek with the calloused hand you held and with a sigh you leaned into his touch, pressing a light kiss to the base of his palm. He shifted closer towards you letting his other hand brush along your jaw, his thumb gently skimming over your lips.

Standing head to head, noses barely nudging each other, you guided his hand down your neck to your chest, silently asking for more of his touch and he gave it freely. You pressed into him as he palmed at your breasts with a whine, lips grazing one another but never locking in a kiss.

With a desperate and sinful heat blooming between your legs, you pulled at the laces of Sihtric’s trousers and he didn’t stop you, allowing you to stroke at his hardening cock with your eyes squeezed shut. He nipped at your cheekbone and ear lobe with his hot breath fanning across your skin, gracing you with the sound of a low moan as your hand gripped his shaft. Guiding you to move to the grassy floor of the meadow, you braved meeting his lust blown eyes full of want mirroring your own.

You quickly hiked your dress up to your hips, exposing your wet core to the cooling air of a summer evening as he freed himself and settled between your thighs; you hesitated with your mouth on the side of his and nodded for him to give you what you so badly needed to feel.

You held your breath in anticipation feeling the head of his cock nudging at the entrance of your cunt, a short sharp exhale escaping you with the first shallow thrust, his grunt meeting your high pitched whimper as he then fully sheathed deep in your tight walls.

Gripping tightly at his shoulder and tugging harshly at Sihtric’s hair, he fucked you into the warm ground with a merciless rhythm, feeding the wanton hunger that coursed through your body and filling the air with lewd sounds of skin slapping skin.

The gravity of your actions were forgotten underneath his body, losing yourself completely to a desire being sated and leaving you feeling near drunk with utter bliss washing over you.

Chasing a release you madly wanted, you tilted your pelvis enabling Sihtric’s thrusts to stroke against your sensitive clit just right, and he understood exactly what you needed by changing his movements to a deep rolling that had your eyes fall back and the tell tale tremor to start in your thighs.

The open sky was full of the sweet broken cries tumbling from your lips into Sihtric’s ear as you fell apart beneath him and he spilled his hot seed into your pulsing walls with a pained groan. As he collapsed onto your chest, both panting erratically, you untangled your fingers from his hair and loosened your grip on his shoulders.

The loss of Sihtric’s hand on your hip and him pulling away from between your legs brought you back to reality, his top lip curled up with a flicker of a frown on his face as he laced his trousers and turned away. Your mouth moved in an attempt to say something, anything, but no words could find you and so you stood, readjusting your dress in silence.

“I’ll escort you back.”

Unlike the last time he walked you back towards the estate the silence was not full of a curious tension being in the company of a stranger, but one that felt awkward as you tried to have a coherent thought about what had just taken place. Even though Sihtric’s eyes were on you the whole time as he trailed a little behind you he didn’t say a word.

“It’s best I go on from here alone.” You stated, glancing quickly at Sihtric over your shoulder as the walls came into view through the treeline.

“Goodnight, lady.”

“Goodnight.”

Eadwold had not even noticed you’d ventured out for a walk, he was deep in his ramblings with his brother beside the hearth of the main hall and hadn’t even bothered to speak to you as you headed up the stairs to your room.

As you laid in bed staring up at the rafters your thumb ran over your lips in a poor imitation of how Sihtric had, the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin with a satisfied ache between your thighs. If only I had kissed him, you thought; falling asleep with your mind full of the Pagan you let have your body in the meadow.

Sleep struggled to find Sihtric that night, the sweet scent of you had been burned into his senses along with the feel of your soft skin on his hands. It shouldn’t have happened, I have lowered her, and other such thoughts swam through his mind until he drifted off.

Throughout the next morning he was distracted and let Finan take control of the training as he walked around the border of the yard, hoping to catch sight of you, but you never appeared. Not in any of the windows, nor up on the walls watching over them as you usually would, and you weren’t lingering in any open doorways either.

Sihtric’s mind drifted to you again as he trundled over the moss covered ground with birds flitting through the trees above him, and a hope filled his chest as rounded the corner of the old stones wanting to find you beneath the willow trees but you weren’t there.

Sighing as he approached the door he paused, he had not left it open before leaving this morning so why was it now ajar? Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword he shoved it open, not expecting to see you sat on the edge of his small fur covered bed.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Your silvery tone greeted, he took his hand away from his sword and his tone was sharper than he wanted it to be with his response,

“Is that wise? Will people not become suspicious if you keep walking off into the woods when they know us men are down here?”

“Are you afraid?” You asked, your eyes searching his.

“Yes, but not for me lady, for you.”

He watched you wet your lips with an incredulous smile on your face and you quickly pushed off the bed walking towards him and cupped his cheeks, crushing your lips to his taking him aback.

You sighed against him as he began to kiss you back slowly, letting his hands roam your waist.

#im just gonna leave this here #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric x reader #tlk fanfic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric tlk #tlk

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novankenn · 4 months

Text

Corpse Queen (v1-7)

/== Table of Contents ==/

“Well, we still have other options.” Morrigan offered.

“Like?”

“I transfer myself into a fresh corpse, or a living body without a soul, and then resurrect you as I did Neo.” Morrigan informed Jaune. “Or I can exorcise you while also empowering you with the abilities of being able to become corporeal and interactive with the world about you.”

“Is that it?”

“I can transfer your soul into …” Morrigan stopped talking, as an annoyed look crossed her face. “I shall return.

“Wait!” Jaune shouted, a second too late, as she vanished completely, leaving him alone in the stonework room looking at an empty throne.

/==/

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in MY house?” Roman shouted as he leveled his weapon, Melodic Cudgel, at the seated form of Morrigan, who glared at him. “Hey, don’t ignore me… what the fuck!”

Roman dove out of the way as a barrage of bone colored spikes. Roman rolled to the side and then dove in the opposite direction as more spikes flew at him, embedding themselves into the walls. Drawn by the shouting, Neo bust from her room.

“WAIT!” Neo shouted as she charged forward to put herself between Roman and Morrigan. “STOP!”

“Neo, get the bitch!” Roman screamed as he used his cane to deflect one of the spikes

“STOP!” Neo shouted again as he moved to intercept a spike that she knew Roman wouldn’t be able to dodge.

“NEO!” Roman screamed in terror, and despair as he watched her be impaled through the stomach and then pinned to the wall. Whipping about, Roman leveled his weapon as the rising figure. “I’m going to…”

“STOP IT!” Neo screamed in a bloody spray. “STOP IT NOW!”

“Neo?” Roman stammered as he looked at his partner in crime.

“Why?” Morrigan asked as a dozen glyphs appeared about her, a bone like spike protruding from each.

“This is his house, and he’s my partner.” Neo gurgled out. “This hurts.”

Morrigan nodded, and with a flick of a finger caused all the glyphs, and previously fired spikes to vanish. Which caused Neo to collapse to the floor. Roman was in complete shock for many reasons. One Neo being able to speak. Two, being able to do that after being impaled. Three her standing up as the hole in her gut closed, and four, the strange boy who had been firing off all those spikes.

“What is going on?”

“I was in the middle of an important meeting.” Morrigan replied, “and you interrupted it. I am Morrigan Letum Balor, and you are?”

“I… I… what is going on?”

“It is customary to introduce yourself when asked your name, and considered rather rude when one refuses to do so.”

“I… I’m…” Roman shook his head, adjusted his tie and faced Morrigan. “Roman Torchwick, Gentleman Thief.”

“Well, Mr Torchwick, I have a conversation to finish. I will return, and then we can speak, and I will answer any questions that Neo is unable to.” Before Roman could say another word, Morrigan returned to her original spot, and closed her eyes.

“Neo?” Roman turned to look at Neo. His eyes wandered from her, to the blood smear on the wall behind her, and then back to her petite form. “You can speak now? How?”

“Morrigan fixed my throat when she raised me from the dead.”

“Say that again?” Roman asked, his eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief. “Did you say you were resurrected?”

“Yes. I’m a zombie now.”

Roman’s mouth opened and closed without a sound, before he began to weave on his feet, before his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he collapsed.

“Roman?”

#rwby #dead mount death play #jaune arc #morrigan letum balor (OC)#neopolitian (rwby)#joplin hedera (OC)#manipulation #possession #reincarnation

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barbucomedie · 2 months

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Fragments of Crosses from Bath, England dated between 900 - 1000 on display at Bath Abbey in Bath, England

These are part of two crosses carved in a typical Germanic stonework style in England. The site of Bath Abbey is thought to have been a site of Christian worship going back to King Osric of Hwicce (modern day Worcestershire and Gloucestershire). Before hand there was the Roman temple to Sulis Minerva a Romano-British goddess.

Photographs taken by myself 2023

#art #archaeology #history #england #english #medieval #10th century #bath abbey #bath #barbucomedie

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 5 months

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28th November >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 21:5-11 for Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Everything will be destroyed’.

Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Luke 21:5-11 The destruction of the Temple foretold.

When some were talking about the Temple, remarking how it was adorned with fine stonework and votive offerings, Jesus said, ‘All these things you are staring at now – the time will come when not a single stone will be left on another: everything will be destroyed.’ And they put to him this question: ‘Master,’ they said ‘when will this happen, then, and what sign will there be that this is about to take place?’

‘Take care not to be deceived,’ he said ‘because many will come using my name and saying, “I am he” and, “The time is near at hand.” Refuse to join them. And when you hear of wars and revolutions, do not be frightened, for this is something that must happen but the end is not so soon.’ Then he said to them, ‘Nation will fight against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes and plagues and famines here and there; there will be fearful sights and great signs from heaven.’

Gospel (USA) Luke 21:5-11 There will not be left a stone upon another stone.

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, “All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Then they asked him, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” He answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.”

Reflections (6)

(i) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The temple in Jerusalem was considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World at the time of Jesus. It is not surprising to hear at the beginning of today’s gospel reading that Jesus’ disciples were lost in admiration at the way the Temple was adorned with fine stonework. Yet, Jesus could see that even this wondrous institution of the Temple would not last. As the disciples were marvelling at it, Jesus declared, ‘not a single stone will be left on another: everything will be destroyed’. This is what indeed happened forty years later, when a Roman army burnt the Temple and the city of Jerusalem to the ground. Jesus’ comment must have shocked the disciples. Yet, Jesus was not disturbed by the realization that even so highly regarded an institution as the Temple would pass away, because he knew that the kingdom of God would never pass away. In the words of the first reading, ‘the God of heaven will set up a kingdom which will never be destroyed’. Jesus could live with enormous change because he knew that God never changes, that God’s purposes endures forever, and that God’s word will never pass away. We are in a time of great change in the church; the future will be very different from the recent past. We may have to let go of much that has been precious and dear to us, as the Jewish people had to let go of their Temple. Yet, in the midst of all this change, we can be assured that the risen Lord himself endures. He remains powerfully present to us and among us. He continues to bring God’s good work to completion and he continues to call on us to share in this great work, in a spirit of joyful hope.

And/Or

(ii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In the time of Jesus the Temple in Jerusalem that was built by King Herod the Great was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. In the gospel reading this morning the disciples of Jesus, looking across at it from the Mount of Olives, talk among themselves about what a wonderful building the Temple is. Jesus, however, foresees a time when the Temple will no longer be present. As he says, ‘everything will be destroyed’. His words came to pass forty years later when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and its Temple, in putting down the Jewish revolt against Rome. The statement ‘everything will be destroyed’ must have been difficult for the disciples to hear. It is difficult for us to hear today. We can be tempted to ask, ‘Where is the good news in that statement?’ ‘How does it qualify as gospel?’ In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul expresses what Jesus states in a slightly different way, ‘The present form of this world is passing away’. On that basis Paul calls on the church in Corinth not to become overly absorbed in the things of this world. Rather, Paul would say, we are to absorb ourselves in the one who will never pass away, the Lord. If our relationship with the Lord, the one who never passes away, is central to our lives, then our relationship with the present form of the world which is destined to pass away will find its proper level. The Lord comes first for us; everything else is secondary, including the wonderful buildings that have been built in his honour. Even when these were to pass away, the Lord will endure, and that is good news.

And/Or

(iii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

As we approach the end of the liturgical year, the readings which the church puts before us tend to focus on the darker side of human experience, the experience of destruction, of loss, of conflict, of deception. It is as if the liturgy is in harmony with the dark days of the end of the month of November. When we begin the new liturgical year next Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, the days remain dark, but the liturgical readings take on a much brighter hue as we begin to light our Advent wreath and we are invited to look forward to the coming of the light. In this morning’s readings, however, the theme of destruction and loss is very much to the fore. Jesus speaks of the destruction of the wonderful Temple in Jerusalem, as well as of other dark events within the human family and nature. No one looking at the temple in Jerusalem in Jesus’ day could ever have imagined it being destroyed. After all it had taken nearly fifty years to build, and it wasn’t quite finished in the time of Jesus. Yet, even the strongest and finest buildings only last so long. Today’s gospel reading calls on us not to get too attached to what does not endure. Instead, we are to attach ourselves to the one who says of himself in one of the gospels that ‘something greater than the Temple is here’. When all else fails and disappears, the Lord endures. He is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and Omega. His enduring presence, his faithfulness to us, gives us assurance in the midst of disconcerting change and loss.

And/Or

(iv) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

We are in the last week of the church’s year and the readings for this time just before Advent can often have a dark tone to them. This morning’s readings are typical in that respect. In the gospel reading Jesus speaks about the eventual destruction of the Temple, which was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world at the time. No one, no Jew certainly, could have envisaged its destruction. Indeed, the building of this magnificent Temple had been started about forty years earlier by King Herod the Great and it wasn’t even complete by the time of Jesus. It was like one of those Medieval Cathedrals that took several generations to be completed. The Temple for the Jews was far and away the most important religious building they possessed; it was the focal point of their worship of God. It would not have been possible to conceive of a religious life without the Temple. Yet, God’s purpose for his people, Israel, and for all of humanity, would not be deflected by the destruction of the Temple. God’s loving purpose for humanity is more enduring than any building or any institution. In these days when we are very conscious of loss within our own Christian and Catholic tradition we need to remind ourselves that God’s purpose for his world is at it always was and that God is always working in new ways through his Son and through the Holy Spirit to bring that purpose to pass.

And/Or

(v) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

As the curtain comes down on the liturgical year, the liturgical readings tend to highlight the reality of endings, of things coming to an end.In the gospel reading this morning, Jesus announces the ending of the Temple in Jerusalem. This was a magnificent building; it took eighty years to complete it. It dominated the city of Jerusalem. It must have seemed as if it would last forever. Yet, forty years after Jesus was crucified, it was destroyed by the Roman army. It was a tremendous loss for the Jewish people. We all have to deal with endings and loss of one kind or another. Sometimes such experiences of ending and loss can be traumatic for us. We can even wonder if our own life is at an end, if we ourselves are lost. The first reading, however, speaks of a kingdom that will last forever, that will never end, never be destroyed. This is the kingdom of God. In the midst of all our losses we know that God endures and God’s relationship with us never comes to an end. God can be relied upon when all else fails and God will see to it that in the midst of all our losses we ourselves will not be lost.

And/Or

(vi) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

This is the final week of the church’s year. Next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of a new church year. In this last week of the church’s year the gospel reading this morning has to do with endings, in particular the ending, the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. The disciples expressed amazement at the sight of the Temple; it was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world at the time. Yet, Jesus announces that a time will come when not a single stone of it will be left on another. It must have been impossible for people to conceive of that ever happening. Yet, in the history of the world so much has passed away that people thought would be around forever. Even in recent times so much has fallen that seemed impregnable. We are left asking, ‘Will anything endure?’ A few verses beyond where this morning’s gospel finishes Jesus says, ‘Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away’. The words of Jesus and the values they express will endure; the one who proclaims those words, the Word made flesh, will endure. When all else fails, the Lord will be there. His relationship with us endures, even when our relationship with him grows weak, as Paul says in one of his letters, ‘if we are faithless, he remains faithful’.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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catholicism-connoiseur · 2 months

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Saint Peter's Roman Catholic Church

In my initial meander into the church, I took no notes or observations as I had not yet formed any intention to create a larger opinion of the church than what I'd already seen. This time though, my purpose was one of documentation and journalistic investigation. To begin, I took note of the physical structure and aesthetics of the church.

From the exterior, the church has been a stark and imposing landmark of Drogheda since its present building's façade was completed in 1884 (incorporating in part the original 1793 building, constructed following the repeal of Penal Law prohibiting a Catholic church within town walls). Nestled amongst the many other churches and historical buildings of the town, it reflects a centuries-old culture of religious architecture. The largest spire reaches far above the rest of the town's rooftops at an impressive 222ft, and boasts ornate decoration from top to bottom, fitting with the rest of the church's face. Multiple statues and carvings adorn the 19th century stonework, an undeniably intricate and imposing visage.

Before the church's three entrance archways (two smaller on either side to a larger) lies stone steps leading up to the doors. Notably, there does not seem to be any present accessibility accommodations for those with mobility-based disabilities. The church has offered webcam footage of masses since lockdowns in 2020, so there is a degree of resource provision for those unable to make it into the church in person, but the only wheelchair-accessible entrance appears to be behind an oft-locked gate and a carpark for church staff and maintenance. This entrance should ideally be marked more visibly and be unobstructed for a more disability-friendly and equitable environment.

Journeying within, the tall, iron-plated wooden doors give way to a marble-tiled porch, which hosts a stoup of holy water, again carved with decorative detail. Passing through another set of doors, we enter the nave: polished, mosaic-patterned brown stone lines the walkway, bordered by the two rows of wooden pews. Wide marble pillars joined with white carved arches fortify the domed, portioned ceiling of the aisles, which is a humble shade of midnight blue and embellished with stars. Resting above the narthex is the organ, an enormous instrument enshrined in colour by the beauty of the stained glass window that resides above and behind it, the centerpiece of the exterior face.

Proceeding through the church, the elaborate reredos and sanctuary bring attention to the altar area. The altar's white stone face is decorated with a carved image of Jesus and the disciples, likely a depiction of the Last Supper. Behind this, the rather large reredos hosts further statues and carvings of saints and holy figures, and is often festooned with bouquets of flowers. The three spires of the reredos reach a decent vertical height and humbly mimic those on the church's exterior in design.

Continuing to the left of the altar, the church hosts its unique relic and point of local historical interest: the severed and preserved head of one (Saint) Oliver Plunkett (Note: the use of "preserved" here is an entirely too generous a description; the poor man looks like a raisin). Plunkett himself was summarily executed (hanged, drawn and quartered) by the British in 1681, after being found guilty of high treason for "promoting the Roman faith".

The head only arrived in Drogheda in 1921, having spent the years between travelling around Ireland, England and even visiting Rome, an undeniably impressive travel catalogue for a decapitated head. Accompanying his head at his shrine in the church is a small collection of (unlabeled, but what one can only assume are his) bones and the door to the prison cell he was kept in prior to his execution.

In more atmospheric regards, the church is not the most comfortable. Partially due to the ceiling's height, a constant, almost damp chill remains in the air within, and there does not appear to be a great effort to heat the interior. This could be due to understandable economical reasons: it would be tremendously inefficient to heat such a structure, but nonetheless creates a less-than-welcoming embrace upon entering the church. The pews are similar in nature; hard, bare, carved wood and thinly carpeted kneelers. The hard stone floor and enormous size of the interior also create a distinct echo to any sound, one amplified by how frequently the church is almost (if not entirely) empty: perhaps a poetic enunciation of the changing attitudes of the people toward the Church as a whole.

All said, the church ranks highly in terms of surface-level aesthetic, but drops significantly in areas of patronage (or lack thereof), accessibility and interior comfort. Now though, to focus on the confessional investigation, this time with more deliberate purpose and clear criteria.

In this second experience of this church's confessional, I was more prepared on how the proceeding would take place. I had my "sin" in question at the ready, taking mental notes of the experience as I went. The wait was short, a line of three or four people before me. Again, no confessional box was used: I had hoped it was perhaps a once-off, perhaps the booth had been under maintenance? Alas, I sat down opposite the priest (a different one from the week before) and gave my confession. A stolen umbrella apparently warranted a practiced, neutral tone of indifference and recited absolution. Not bored, not interested, simply a rehearsed procedure and a distanced air of almost artificial compassion. Now, admittedly, this reaction could be due to the decidedly pedestrian nature of the presented "sin", and a neutral, non-judgmental attitude is no doubt preferable in an environment of confession, so a verdict on the experience couldn't be made on this basis.

The penance given was a trivial two Hail Mary's and a suggestion that I donate some money to charity, supposedly to balance the cost of the theft. I felt this was a rather sensible and conscientious prescription, and so for the sake of authenticity, completed the request in due time.

As a disclaimer, to give the overall church and confessional experience a categorical or nominal rating could possibly be seen as disrespectful, callous, a mockery of the church, perhaps even some form of blasphemy. I, of course, took this into serious consideration with the utmost respect and reverence when writing this. I would never deign to assume that such a varied and sacred practice as religious worship could be so objectively reduced to a mere 1-10 rating.

That said, St. Peter's Church gets a 6.5/10. Wouldn't confess there again tbh.

#catholicism-connoiseur #catholiscism #confession

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rubiesintherough · 7 months

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@strawberry-barista --- thread cont. from here bc tumblr’s an ass and won’t let me cut older threads :)

" Well, on the topic of that... " It took him a moment of fishing in his breast pocket to produce a pen and scrap of paper. " I have had a... great deal of time to consider what I'd like. Give me just a moment. And pardon the roughness of these sketches, I've not honed my skill in quite a while. "

The scratching of pen point followed, the phoenix hunched above his paper scrap as he drew a quick approximation of what he was hoping for... and slowly, almost nervously, slid it across the table once he was finished. On one corner was a sketch of the pocket watch currently tucked safely away in a drawer at home, lovingly. On the other was the image of a Roman building, classical architecture with pillars and beautiful stonework... and the word humanitas ( humanity ) encircling it like a laurel wreath.

" Either, or both, of these would mean a great deal to me. About so big... " Cupped hand motioned to a place on his chest. " Would either of these be feasible? "

#thread ( aedus )#strawberry barista

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thesilicontribesman · 1 year

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Replica of Vedica's Roman Tombstone, The Museum of Liverpool, Merseyside

A woman originally from the Cornovian tribe (Cheshire and Shropshire) who later settled in the area of Ilkley, Yorkshire. She died around 100CE, aged 30 years old.

#roman #roman belief #roman army #roman grave #roman empire #roman living #romans #roman tomb #archaeology #roman stonework #relic #ritual #artefact #stone carving #Liverpool #Merseyside

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lionofchaeronea · 1 year

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Head of a marble statue of Apollo. Artist unknown; 2nd cent. CE (Roman Imperial period). Now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

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skogenraev · 8 months

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Ptah

Lord of the Sky; Lord of the Two Lands; Lord of Truths; Lord of Sunrise; Father of Fathers; Power of Powers

Origin: Egypt

In the beginning was the word. That phrase is now familiar as the first line of the Gospel of John, but is also familiar to devotees of Ptah, Creator of the World. He is the architect of the universe whose first building blocks were thought and speech. He is a primordial deity from the earliest epochs. Ptah means the “opener” but not only in the literal sense of opening a window or door. The word was used in the context of carving, chiseling, or engraving, which the Egyptians perceived as opening up the powers of stone or metal. Ptah is the patron of stone and metalworkers. Ptah is the craftsman of the universe. He fashions new bodies for souls in the Next Realm. Ptah was credited with inventing the Opening of the Mouth Ceremony, the ritual expected to reanimate the deceased. The Greeks and Romans identified Ptah with Hephaestus and Vulcan respectively

𓂃⊹ Iconography: Ptah is portrayed as a bearded man shrouded in a close-fitting garment or as a bearded mummy. He is entirely bound: only his hands project from a front opening. He may wear a menat amulet symbolic of joy, pleasure, and fertility. 𓂃⊹ Attributes: A scepter that combines several amuletic forms, including an ankh and djed pillar (See also: Osiris); builder’s tools 𓂃⊹ Consorts: Bastet, Sekhmet, and/or Wadjet. 𓂃⊹ Jewel: Lapis lazuli 𓂃⊹ Planet: Sun 𓂃⊹ Sacred site: Memphis, Egypt 𓂃⊹ Creatures: Rats

Ptah was lord of truth, and the patron god of sculptors and craftsmen (since he was considered to have sculpted the earth). he created the first mound of earth from Nu by imagining it in his heart and breathed life into things with his voice

Besides his role as creator of the universe, Ptah was also a master builder. He created the arts of stoneworking and architecture that allowed the Egyptians to build the tombs of the Valley of the Kings and, later, the pyramids. Ptah also ruled smithing and metalworking, sculpture, art, carpentry, and shipbuilding. Ptah’s priests were also often talented crafters, and were sought after for their advice and wisdom. Some became influential builders and advisors to the royal family, or even married into the royal family themselves.

Because of his association with tomb craftsmanship Ptah was also part of Egyptian funeral ceremonies. He was said to have created the important Opening of the Mouth ritual, which was a part of Egyptian mummification procedures. The Opening of the Mouth had to be performed to allow the mummy to use its mouth in the afterlife, so it could speak, breathe, and eat. The Opening of the Mouth was meant to represent Ptah’s own origin, when he used his mouth to speak the universe into existence.

Ptah was married to the lion goddess of war, Sekhmet, and their children were Nefertum, a god of healing and medicine, and Maahes, another war god. Ptah, Sekhmet, and Nefertum were the three most important gods in Memphis. Imhotep, a brilliant engineer, astronomer, and physician who lived in the 27th century BCE, was said to be Ptah’s adopted son, and became worshiped as a god himself after his death

#egypt mythology #kemetic #deitywork

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fairyfindr · 11 months

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Gnomes vs Dwarves

Similarities|Differences|Folklore

Within the realm of mystical elemental earth creatures, gnomes and dwarves captivate our collective imaginations with their connection to underground habitats and love and protection of Mother Earth. These lovely little beings have long been been mistaken for each other or talked about interchangeably through folklore history depending who you ask, but they do possess distinct characteristics that set them apart. In this piece, we will dig deep into the world of gnomes and dwarves, uncovering their similarities, differences, and exploring their folklore connections, if any.

AI generated artwork of a Darwin the Dwarf and Gary the Gnome who become best buds by FairyFindr created with the WOMBO AI discord bot

Origins in Mythology and Folklore:

According to Wikipedia the garden gnome has its beginnings in history in Ancient Rome as tiny stone statues of the Roman god Priapus which they placed in their gardens to promote growth and a good harvest!

Physical Appearance:

Gnomes take on the form of small humanoid beings. They are said to have long white beards, pointy (red) hats, and often wearing vibrant, colourful attire. Gnomes exude a sense of safety, joy, and a playful curiosity, sometimes even a bit mischievous, but by no means malevolent. Their love of pruning and protecting gardens and plants against malevolent spirits and pests further solidifies their connection to Mother Nature.

Dwarves, on the other hand, bear a stout and robust figure. With long beards, sturdy bodies, and a formidable presence, they embody strength and resilience. Dwarves are often depicted wearing armor, equipped with mining tools, and are known for their skills in blacksmithing and exceptional craftsmanship in the creation of weapons, armor, and jewelry.

Similarities:

Dwarves and Gnomes have both been known for their short stature and a more round physique, definitely not fat by any means but not skinny or lanky. They both usually have very long beards and wear a hat or helmet of some sort.

Underground Dwellings: Both dwarves and gnomes are often associated with living underground. They inhabit subterranean realms, whether it be elaborate cities, mines, caves, or burrows. This shared connection to being inside the earth highlights their affinity for hidden places and their ability to thrive in underground environments far away from humans.

Craftsmanship and Skills: Both dwarves and gnomes are renowned for their exceptional craftsmanship and skills. Dwarves are celebrated for their mastery of metallurgy, stonework, and the creation of intricate objects such as weapons, armor, and jewelry. Gnomes, on the other hand, demonstrate their skill in more artistic endeavors, often creating whimsical and detailed works of art, including pottery, sculptures, and decorative items.

Guardianship and Protection: Both creatures are associated with guardianship and protection. Dwarves are known for fiercely protecting their underground realms from intruders and threats. Gnomes, on the other hand, are often seen as guardians of the natural world, caring for gardens and protecting the balance of nature. In their respective domains, both dwarves and gnomes exhibit a sense of responsibility for the places they inhabit.

Habitat and Abilities:

Gnomes are believed to dwell in underground homes, such as caves or burrows, giving them a strong and spiritual connection the planet. As guardians of the earth, gnomes possess magical powers and a profound knowledge of nature. They are associated with gardens, plants, and hold the responsibility of protecting the balance of the natural realm.

Also known to live underground or deep in the caves, Dwarves are renowned for their association with mining and craftsmanship. These beings reside in elaborate underground cities and mines, venturing deep into the earth. With expertise in metallurgy, blacksmithing, and stonework, dwarves create masterpieces of craftsmanship, showcasing their skillful hands and meticulous attention to detail.

Personality and Characteristics:

Gnomes are mischievous tricksters, known for their sense of humor and curiosity. They enjoy playing practical jokes and often bring laughter and joy to those who encounter them. Benevolent in nature, gnomes bring good luck, protect your gardens, and extend their assistance to those who treat them with kindness and respect.

Dwarves, in stark contrast, possess a serious and industrious demeanor, always working hard and barely stopping to relax. Famed for their unwavering work ethic, loyalty, and determination, dwarves endure the toughest physical conditions with unmatched resilience. Proud and protective of their underground realms, they exhibit their prowess as miners, craftsmen, and warriors.

Cultural Depictions:

Gnomes have strong associations with European folklore, particularly in German, Scandinavian, and English tales. In the 1800’s these delightful creatures gained widespread popularity as decorative ceramic garden statues, believed to bring good luck, ward off evil spirits, and bless / work in the gardens at night! Their presence adds an enchanting and protective touch to our gardens, homes, and lives!

Dwarves, on the other hand, hold a diverse and expansive history across various mythologies and cultural traditions worldwide. Most prominently featured in Norse mythology, dwarves have left a mark on fairytales, fantasy literature, and role-playing games. Renowned as skilled warriors, miners, and craftsmen, dwarves captivate our imagination with their small yet mighty presence!

Famous artist Jacques Callot did a series of dwarf drawings which were called “grotesques” at that time in history. Check out this excerpt from his Wikipedia here!

Conclusion:

Gnomes and dwarves, while sharing common origins in folklore and their association with underground habitats, possess distinct characteristics that define their individual identities. Their physical appearances, habitats, abilities, personalities, and cultural depictions leave us with unique and intricate tales that have fascinated us for centuries. They offer us a glimpse into the enchanting world of folklore, leaving us captivated for centuries to come!

Leave a comment and let me know something knew you learned about gnomes or dwarves today 🖤

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

May the Gnomes + Dwarves Bless You ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

FairyFindr // Marvelous Magical Miniatures

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