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#Théoden
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ᒪOᖇᗪ Oᖴ TᕼE ᖇIᑎGᔕ ᗰEᗰEᔕ
TᕼE ᕼOᗷᗷIT ᗰEᗰEᔕ
ᖇEᒪᗩTIOᑎᔕᕼIᑭ ᗰEᗰEᔕ
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dagordagorath · 1 month
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15 March: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields
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Brought to you by this post
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autistook · 6 days
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The Return of the King (2003)
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cilil · 27 days
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Headcanon: Oromë personally welcomed Théoden when he came to Mandos and bid him farewell when he went beyond the world. He was so proud of him
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aurademortt · 4 months
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Why am I inexorably drawn to the Tolkien characters who are so minor that they’re barely canon? Who knows! Why do I like to make it so hard on myself to find people to discuss my favorite little dudes with because most of my favorite little dudes only exist in the story for a handful of lines? I wish I understood this about myself!
Is this my way of saying that I have just spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking DEEPLY about Guthláf, Théoden’s banner bearer, who I believe is mentioned a whopping 3 times in the entirety of LOTR and 2 of those 3 are just places where his death is noted? It sure is!
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tsrmarina · 10 months
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King Théoden, sketch study
Get print:
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camille-lachenille · 27 days
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Like a god of old
For @cilil
At first, there is only darkness, like mist on a winter morning. Then there is a glow not unlike dawn piercing through clouds and Théoden blinks, surprised to be able to see. He takes a breath in, shocked not to hear his lungs rattle and feel his chest ache, before noticing he does not need to breathe anymore. He breathes in again anyway, relishing in the lack of pain. If this is death, Théoden thinks, it is a hundredfold better than his last years of life. Only then does he notice the presence beside him, just at the edge of his vision.
Careful, Théoden sits up, marvelling at how easy it is, and look at the being. He looks like an old man, in the dim light, yet his stature is strong and his face unlined by the years. Théoden peers at his face, half hidden in the shadows, and feels his breath hitch. “Father?” he asks quietly, for the man looks like Thengel as he was in his prime. Yet something is off.
The man smiles and his features shift just the slightest, and he bears now a face Théoden knows from countless carved statues and innumerable descriptions in songs. “In a way,” the likeness of Eorl the young says, voice deep as the woods. “I am you father as I am the father of your forefathers, of countless warriors and hunters from Ages past, Théoden Ednew son of Thengel.”
The man’s - no, the god’s - face shifts again, taking the appearance of a dark-haired Elf of noble bearing, and Théoden looks at him in awe. “Béma, my Lord,” he whispers in awe. “So I am well and truly dead, in the Halls of my Fathers…”
This last addition is mostly for him, more a whispered thought than anything else, but Béma still answers. “You are dead indeed, Théoden King, and your death was bold and glorious like few before you. But this is not the halls of your fathers, but the Halls of Mandos. This is but a step in jour journey. Come, walk with me.”
Stunned, Théoden grasps the god’s outstretched hand to help him stand. The motion is strangely fluid, the old ache in his hip gone as if his body is more thought than flesh. Of course he cannot feel pain, he muses, he is dead and his body must be a memory of sorts, an old image he clings to.
Béma leads Théoden through vast halls shrouded in mist, the place eerily silent for their feet do not make a sound on the ground. “I heard of your valour, son of Rohan,” Béma says almost conversationally. “I looked over you on the Tapestries and saw your fate. Be proud, for your end was not in vain and brought a new Age in its wake.”
“I was but an old man riding to his death in despair,” Théoden answers without thinking. He glances at the god walking beside him, and finds he is changed again. Gone is the noble Elflord, replaced by a tall and rugged hunter. Théoden thinks he sees shadows of antlers about his head. “I did my duty to my people after I let them suffer for too long.”
There is a silence before Béma speaks again. “You were despairing indeed, knew you were riding to your death, and yet you met it in your own terms. This demands no small amount of courage, Théoden King. I heard songs already comparing you to me, charging the enemy with fury and might…”
Théoden suddenly feels like a boy barely of age and ducks his head. “They mean no ill, Lord Béma,” he says almost bashfully. “And most certainly my deeds are made grander than they are.”
The god laughs, a deep, rumbling sounds that reminds Théoden of galloping hooves pounding the ground. “Old tales are made to be sung again and again, and I have no grudge against the bards likening you to me, son of Rohan. And I may even say that they are more flattering to me than you. For, you see, I am made for battle and blood, while you had to shape yourself for this role in pain and despair. And you turned this despair to rage, to strength to face your enemy head on in a way I will never be able to. Yes, you are strong, Théoden King, and worthy of all the songs that will be sung about you in the Age to come. But we reached the path you have to take now, I cannot go forward.”
Indeed, they stopped walking, and they are facing doors that look carved out of the very mist that bathe the place. Théoden runs his hand, calloused but smooth of any wrinkles, on the shifting shapes of the doors. He sees a child crying, a woman falling down a ravine, a king lying down to sleep, a woman with her babe in her arms closing her eyes. He breathes in, for the last time he knows, and look back at Béma.
“My Lord, I am honoured you took the time to lead me here,” he says with a bow of his head, so light without a crown resting on his brow.
“The honour was mine, son of Rohan. Go now, your time has come to take this road.”
Théoden closes his hand on the door handle, hesitate. Breathes out. Looks back at Béma once more.
“Your forefathers await you, Théoden King. They are proud of you,” the god says with a warm smile that remind Théoden of his mother’s smile.
Théoden nods at Béma, smiles back and open the doors.
Inspired by this post: https://www.tumblr.com/curiouselleth/746143860815740928/the-ghost-of-jrr-tolkien-rising-from-the
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borom1r · 2 months
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⚔️ 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ⚔️
Behold, an Ongoing Project! 📯
I've been wanting to compile this for a while, instead of frantically scrambling for references every time I sit down to write — I thought it would be fun to share! I'm mostly tackling this from the perspective of a fanfic author, and also as someone who's very into viking era-through-renaissance men's fashion and armor.
I think it's really fun to look at the decisions that were made strategically (to maintain actor mobility, for example), because they looked cool (Faramir's pointless hinged piece on his helmet), or because they were actually period-accurate (gambesons under chainmail, or worn as armor by themselves!). I'm also taking it as a chance to point out what these garments say about their owners!
I say this in the document itself, but there's no need to credit me if you reference/use the doc for your own writing ^_^ this is some of my favorite stuff to discuss, so just getting to share it is cool enough to me.
I'm purely focusing on human characters to start, because of the more solid real-world parallels, but I'm happy to add on to this if there are other characters you'd like to see!!
(@potatoflower7 + @rivers-for-me, tagging you both bc you interacted w/ the posts I made when I was just starting this!)
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katajainen · 2 months
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'We will have peace,' said Théoden at last thickly and with an effort. Several of the Riders cried out gladly. Théoden held up his hand. 'Yes, we will have peace,' he said, now in a clear voice, 'we will have peace, when you and all your works have perished – and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me, and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just – as it was not, for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine for your own profit as you desired – even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm.'
KING.
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thranduilofsmirkwood · 2 months
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➶➶➶➶ ԼƠƦƊ ƠƑ ƬӇЄ ƦƖƝƓƧ MЄMЄƧ ➷➷➷➷
More oldies from Pinterest
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🔥🌋🔥🛖🔥🗡🔥🛖🔥🌋🔥
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👀👑👀🫅👀🧝‍♂️👀👰‍♂️👀🧚👀👑👀
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These father/son memes are killing me.
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dagordagorath · 18 days
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For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning.
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kat651 · 5 months
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who is the most handsome?
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alda-rana · 1 year
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It's not too late to post this week's LOTR re-read update! Treebeard and Théoden!
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autistook · 1 month
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March 15th - The Death of King Théoden
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'Farewell, Master Holbytla!' he said. 'My body is broken. I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!'
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