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#elfhild
emilybeemartin · 8 months
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I've been drawing just, so many dudes, so here are some Ladies of Gondor and Shieldmaidens of Rohan! Sometimes you just have to design a bunch of ren-faire gowns and accessories, you know?
First, Eowyn, the best excuse to draw split skirts. Her star-embroidered gloves were a gift from Faramir, but it wasn't until I drew Finduilas below that I realized her pendant was probably also a gift from him as well.
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Lothiriel! I referenced her pose from my fave, @adorkastock. I don't have many headcanons about Lothiriel but I imagine she's the only person who can make Eomer trip over his own feet.
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Theodwyn, Eowyn and Eomer's mother! Maybe she was born with a clubbed foot. We don't know. Tolkien only tells us she was pretty. A big thank-you to @hurricanek8art, @fruitbatvampiresociety, and @arrowpunk for giving me great feedback on her cane, including wrapping the base in leather and adding a skirt hike to her belt to keep her hem up.
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Elfhild, Theoden's wife and Theodred's mother! No big headcanons here, either, but I think she'd bring Theoden a lot of joy and purpose and thus a lot of grief and aimlessness when she died.
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And finally, Finduilas. There's the pendant Faramir gave Eowyn, and oh, her cape clasp looks familiar.
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Tolkien gives us a few extra sentences about Finduilas, and so we know she had a difficult time in Minas Tirith. He writes that she was gentle and beautiful, but that "she withered in the guarded city... the shadow in the east filled her with horror, and she turned her eyes ever south to the sea that she missed." He also says Denethor "loved her, in his fashion," which I read as, "guy couldn't healthily express an emotion if it was written out for him." I imagine Finduilas was lonely and isolated, and, in pregnancy, afraid of the world she was bringing her babies into.
But maybe things weren't all bad! Maybe before she got too ill, she brought her boys to the seashore, where Faramir would babble and splash and Boromir would run all over creation and bring her treasures.
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maironsbigboobs · 8 months
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@lotrladiessource ➡ LOTR LADIES WEEK DAY TWO: WOMEN (part 1/2)
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brigwife · 3 months
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Ok but imagine if Elfhild was experiencing complications throughout her whole pregnancy, and Théoden, desperate to save his wife and their unborn child, decides to take her to his place of birth, Minas Tirith (because their healing expertise is far greater than anything in Rohan). But there was nothing that could be done, and Elfhild passes after birthing Théodred. Coincidentally at that same time the Steward's wife if also going through labour, and Finduilas ends up nursing both Boromir and Théodred together as if they were twins
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morgulscribe · 6 months
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His Name is Not REALLY Sauron, but no one really knows what to call him either
Tolkien's use of "Sauron" is infuriating. The character in question did not like that name because it meant "The Abhorred," or even "Foul-smelling and Vile." It was given to him by his enemies as an insulting play on his true name, which was Mairon, "The Admirable." However, Tolkien is an unreliable narrator at times and wrote from the perspective of a Noldorin/Numenorean/Gondorian scribe. Due to the implied bias in the text, the narrator uses every opportunity possible to get a pot shot in on Sauron Mairon.
This makes it very difficult to know when the character in question would refer to himself as Mairon, Sauron, or any one of his other many names and titles. Did he call himself Mairon in Angband? According to "Words, Phrases and Passages in Various Tongues in The Lord of the Rings", in Parma Eldalamberon XVII (edited by Christopher Gilson), the character used the name of Mairon until the fall of Numenor.
I guess the implication then would be that, since the character in question could no longer take a fair form, he decided to go full-on villain mode and accept the insulting title that his enemies gave him. After all, The Abhorred sounds more intimidating than The Admirable.
HOWEVER, Aragorn tells Legolas and Gimli that the "S" rune on the uruk helms belongs to Saruman, because the other "S" character does not permit his "right name" being written or spoken. (I guess this means that Aragorn considers "Sauron" to be the character's "right name" - not necessarily his "true name.")
To add to the confusion, there is also the existence of the Mouth of Sauron. In theory, this character might actually refer to himself as the Mouth of Mairon, but the Gondorian scribes, continuing their tradition of biased reporting, called him the Mouth of Sauron instead. Another possibility would be that the Mouth of Mairon refers to himself as the Mouth of Sauron when dealing with enemies, as the name would seem more intimidating.
This all makes for a very uncertain experience when writing about this character. Should he be called Mairon, when he isn't going by Annatar or Zigur? Or should the writer adapt the perspective of a Gondorian scribe, who would use the name Sauron at all times?
I don't know if there are any answers to these questions.
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retellingthehobbit · 9 months
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emyn-arnens · 2 months
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For the five sentences ask game: 'Théoden would not have minded being dead but for the fact that he could not attend his niece's wedding in the flesh.'
The Halls of Men permitted those it housed to view the lives of those they had left behind, of course, but it was a poor substitute, looking at the misty threads of the Tapestry of the Living, when he had thought—in the days before Gríma began his leechcraft—that he would see his niece resplendent with joy on her wedding day and thus fulfill the promise he had made to his sister on her deathbed to see her children grown and settled. 
But doom had set a different course for him.
Théodwyn’s hand, incorporeal as it was, settled on his shoulder with a warmth he had not thought possible in their current state, and she said, “Éowyn knows that you are with her, and that you hoped for nothing more than to see this day.” Compassion shone in her eyes, for she knew the sorrow he bore at having been able to fulfill only half of his promise to her.
Théoden reached up and placed his hand over his sister's, and with Éomund, Elfhild, and Théodred gathered about them, they watched as Éowyn, a vision of joy, took her husband’s hand and smiled as Théoden had seen her so rarely smile while he had still lived, and his heart stirred with a joy that he had not known since he had found his way to the halls of his fathers.
Five Sentences Game
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Into the Breach (pt. 2 of 4)
Here’s part 2 of my sort-of fic/sort of extended HC about what Théodred was doing in the immediate lead-up to LOTR events, along with some tangents into his backstory. (Part 1 is here.) Some of the tangents in this part address his relationship with Théoden, his feelings about being heir, and how Gríma ended up working for the king. I’m just gonna burn through these parts this week because it’s all been written for a long time already, so why not?
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The sun had yet to fully rise in Edoras and the night guards were still at their posts around the city, but Théodred’s day had already begun. His pre-dawn visit from Éomer had left him feeling a little shaken, and going back to sleep at that point would have been impossible. Instead, he slipped out to take a walk in the early morning winter chill, hoping both to clear his mind and to fill the time before Háma would report for duty and could answer some of his most pressing questions. 
Storbar loped along at the prince’s side, the dog’s fearsome size keeping the few early morning risers at a distance from the pair as they made several long, slow passes of the fields and meadows at the edge of the city. All the while, Théodred agonized over Éomer’s account of the king’s current condition, so much worsened since his last visit to Edoras. He couldn’t reconcile the withered, faltering invalid of Éomer’s description with the spirited, loving father of his memories or even with the fatigued, weakened man Théodred had last seen three weeks ago.
Perhaps if duty had not so often called him away, he could have better anticipated this turn and done something to stop it. He could have dedicated himself wholly to the care of his ailing father, as any normal son would and could do. Not for the first time, Théodred felt a small ember of resentment burning at the back of his mind. His love for Rohan ran deep in his soul, born into him and a fundamental part of his being, but he could not deny that he sometimes wondered whether the sacrifices asked of him as heir were too steep to be endured. The loss of precious time with his loved ones or the ability to watch over them with closer vigilance. The imperative to always yield his own needs to those of the country. The burden of regularly making decisions that had life or death consequences and of knowing just how closely they all lived to the precipice of disaster, where just a single ill turn could send them careening into chaos and destruction of a sort that most people never even imagined.
This undercurrent of resentment had been the source of the only true conflicts he ever had with his father. Théodred understood and accepted those sacrifices that were necessary to protect the greater good, to guarantee the lives and livelihoods of the Rohirrim as a people, but he balked at any demands of royal life that seemed to exist only to control him as a person. That protocol and tradition should have any say in when and who he married, in what took place in the privacy of his own bedchamber, in whether and when he would have children…these things never sat right in his mind, and his resistance to them distressed Théoden, who saw himself as guardian both of the physical welfare of Rohan but also of all of its customs and culture. They clashed repeatedly over Théodred’s attempts to claim more autonomy for himself and for others in the royal family who sought their own concessions from the unnecessary strictures of court life.   
The most bitter of their fights had been when Théodred refused an appropriate and politically advantageous marriage at the age of twenty five, unwilling to join himself for the rest of his years to a woman he hardly knew and felt no real affection for. Théoden had argued that affection would come in time, as it had when he married Elfhild as a young man, but Théodred would not make such a gamble with his own happiness. And when Théoden had angrily invoked the needs of the kingdom, the obligation to produce an heir for the next generation, Théodred had only thrown fuel on the fire by then confessing that he felt no real call to fatherhood and would happily pass on the throne to his cousins’ line, in which he had the utmost confidence. Though Théoden ultimately yielded rather than force his son into an unwilling marriage, they spent many months unable to speak to each other with the ease and warmth that had otherwise always characterized their relationship. 
But as harsh as this and other disagreements had sometimes been, neither truly wanted to be at odds with the other. They had always somehow found a way back together, to the little two-person unit they had been ever since the day Théodred had come into the world and Elfhild had left it. In all their differences of opinion, their fragile agreements to leave certain subjects untouched, their hesitant attempts to make compromises and concessions on the other’s behalf, there was never any question of love, loyalty or dedication. All of which made Théodred’s new reality–that his father was gravely and perhaps fatally ill–that much harder to stomach. He had faced loss and grief many times before, but this loss was almost more than he could contemplate. No matter his age and strength and experience, losing his father would leave him feeling like an orphan, cut free from the last moorings that connected him to the long line of his history. Staring down that possibility now darkened his spirits even as the light of dawn slowly spread over the hills and fields around him.
When the sun had finally risen in earnest and Edoras began to bustle with activity, he returned Storbar to Eadlin and walked around to the entrance of the great hall, where Háma would be at his post. He soon caught sight of the doorwarden, seated in a stone chair with his sword laid across his knees. Though he appeared motionless, his eyes constantly swept the terrace in front of him and his ears were carefully attuned to any activity in the hall behind him. Théodred knew there wasn’t another man in Rohan who was better informed about happenings at court than Háma. Nor was there another who took his duty to his country with more seriousness. His loyalty was legendary and had seen him climb the ranks to captain of the guard with unprecedented speed, but his faithfulness was also balanced with unerring judgment and keen practicality. He knew when to hold firm and when to bend, and Théoden had always trusted deeply in his captain’s plain good sense when it came to matters of duty.
As Théodred mounted the stairs now, Háma rose swiftly to his feet. 
“Westu Théodred hál!” He bowed deeply, and Théodred reached out to shake his hand as soon as he raised his head again.
“Good health to you, Háma. I was hoping you might have a moment to speak with me. In confidence.”
Háma shifted from one foot to the other and chewed at his bottom lip. “Of course, my lord. I didn’t know you were back in Edoras until just a few minutes ago, but I also much need to speak with you and had hoped to seek you out as soon as I was able.”
“I’m glad to have saved you the trip then, and I will spare us both the delay of formalities by getting right to my question.” Théodred glanced around to be sure there was no one else in earshot. “What do you know of Gríma Wormtongue’s recent intentions at court? I understand he has been much with the king these last few weeks, even as the king’s condition has worsened.”
Háma’s face immediately darkened at the mention of Gríma, and he clenched and unclenched his fist, the knuckles whitening in the effort. “That is true, my lord. And I don’t believe those two things are unrelated.”
A surge of adrenaline jolted through Théodred’s veins at those words, a suggestion of treachery beyond his worst imaginings, and he instinctively lowered his voice and drew in closer. “We are speaking of matters of the utmost importance, Háma, and so I want to be sure there is no confusion between us. Do you suggest that Gríma is somehow causing my father’s illness?” 
The captain nodded. “I haven’t spoken of my suspicions to anyone because they are only that–suspicions. I can offer you no proof. But I have come to be certain enough that I thought you should hear it. However this sickness began, I know in my heart that Wormtongue somehow prolongs and worsens it. Whether that’s through the poison of a plant or herb or just the poison of his evil words, I don’t know. But I watch the king very closely, and I have marked a consistent pattern. His condition and his thinking deteriorate after time spent with Wormtongue. He acts least like himself when Wormtongue is nearby. And that snake takes advantage to somehow move the king’s mind to his liking.” 
“Move it how? What’s his game?”
“I don’t know what his motive is. I can only tell you his method, which is a steady stream of conspiracy, innuendo and accusation. I have heard much of it these last few weeks. Wormtongue overturns the king’s own instincts and convinces him to discount the increasing signs that Isengard bears us ill will. He constantly excuses Saruman’s aggression while simultaneously casting doubts on our allies and slandering good men. The circle of people Wormtongue admits to your father’s company grows ever smaller, and the more isolated the king gets the more he embraces Wormtongue’s counsel, no matter how outlandish.” He shook his head and worried the hilt of his sword with nervous fingers. “We’re on the precipice of an all-out war, and Wormtongue seems to desire that we should lose it for some reason.”
Théodred’s stomach churned, a nauseating mix of dread, anger and guilt. He had never liked Gríma, but neither had he ever suspected him of being dangerous to either king or country. Yet it appeared now that he had been wrong and, more than that, he was responsible. For it was only due to Théodred’s own decisions that Gríma had ever approached the halls of power in Edoras in the first place. 
Like most Rohirrim, they had both trained to be admitted to the official ranks of Rohan’s army, undergoing a lengthy instruction and qualification process that began at age fifteen. Théodred and Gríma had been members of Gamling’s apprenticeship class, vying for selection to one of several éoreds based in Edoras. But where Théodred shined, Gríma had struggled. He never really developed as a horseman, and his slight stature and poor eyesight made him not just ineffective with a spear or bow but an actual liability to those around him. Gamling gave him as much time and attention as he could spare but nothing seemed to be enough, and Gríma had no older figure in his own life to help him improve–he lived with an elderly aunt, his mother having died while he was yet an infant and his father having perished in the same poorly planned orc hunt that took Éomer and Éowyn’s father. Many times Théodred had seen Gríma on the archery course late in the day, all alone, trying to find through repetition of motion some semblance of skill or talent that just didn’t exist in his body. Even so, he rebuffed all offers of help, either too proud or too resentful to accept the assistance of his peers.
In one area only did Gríma excel: strategy. He had a quick mind and good instincts, and he soaked up and applied lessons from older Rohirrim who told him stories of previous battles and campaigns. His most particular interest was in studying and replanning the raid that had killed his father. He kept a sheaf of maps and diagrams, shown once to Théodred in a rare moment of openness, in which he obsessively plotted and re-plotted the respective positions and movements of both the orcs and Éomund’s company, laying out numerous alternate approaches and scenarios that could have allowed the Rohirrim to better anticipate and defend against the ambush. Even as an inexperienced youth, Théodred had seen the sophistication of thought that went into Gríma’s painstakingly recreated battle plans, and he had walked away with a new appreciation for all that Gríma could do off the training fields.
Eventually, the inevitable happened, and Gríma failed the qualification standards to be assigned to an éored. As the successful candidates lined up to meet their new brothers in arms and to have the distinctive mark of their particular éored etched onto a shoulder or bicep, Gríma had slunk away with an expression that was equal parts shame and scorn. Watching him go, Théodred had thought back to those battle plans and the potential that he had seen, potential that would be wasted if Gríma were now to take up a livelihood as a merchant or craftsman or whatever other trade in which he could get a foothold. He convinced his father to enroll Gríma instead in additional schooling–reading and writing, foreign languages, military and political history–for service as a royal advisor. Such schooling was offered only to a precious few, and Gríma knew enough to accept this rare opportunity even as he felt privately aggrieved that it was only offered due to Théodred’s intervention. 
He raced through his course of studies at a truly impressive speed and was brought on as a junior advisor shortly thereafter, but then his progress had stalled. Outside of a classroom, where knowledge was all that mattered, he found himself unable to effectively navigate court politics, where his undeniable brilliance was consistently overshadowed by his abrasiveness and lack of tact. Unwilling to devote himself to the task of forging and maintaining relationships with his fellow advisors, his opinion became seldom requested and even less frequently acted upon. A general consensus formed that he had not delivered on his extraordinary potential, and a deeper bitterness grew in him as he failed to see his skills and abilities acknowledged and appreciated in the way he thought proper. 
Théodred had only noted a change in this dynamic over the last few months, though he could not trace its source. Without explanation, Gríma’s advice had slowly but surely become more sought after, and the caution and appeasement that he urged with respect to Isengard seemed now to resonate with Théoden in unexpected ways, leading to changes in official policy. But in spite of Théodred’s frustration at the undue consideration given to what he considered to be poor counsel, he had never imagined that the poor counsel was anything other than an honest difference of strategic opinion. It had always been his tendency to assume the best in others, and he found that faith was nearly always rewarded. But he saw now that his own tendencies had perhaps been used against him here, that he had been far too willing to ascribe to coincidence and good intention actions that had actually been carefully plotted to some unknown, nefarious end. He had underestimated an opponent at a time when the stakes could not be any higher, and now he had precious little time to fix his error. He reached at once for the door handle, intending to rush to his father’s side, but Háma put a restraining hand on his arm.
“My lord?” Háma’s face had paled, and whatever he planned to say seemed to be causing him true distress. Théodred flashed back to Háma’s first words–that he had something he needed to discuss with Théodred–and realized now that Háma’s suspicions of Gríma’s motives and behavior were not the only subject on his mind.
“Forgive me, but just before you arrived this morning, I was ordered to deny entry to the Second Marshal. The order came from Wormtongue, but he has the stamp of the king. If it is a lawful order, I have no choice but to honor it. He left it here for you to see, knowing that you would challenge it.” Háma took a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, holding it awkwardly at its edges as though the very feel of it in his fingers was distasteful. “Does it say what he claims?”
Théodred skimmed the page, his eyes quickly finding his own name and title beside the word ‘denied’, and ran an unbelieving finger over the dark green wax stamp bearing the emblem of the House of Eorl that was clearly affixed at the bottom of the page. His heart sank in his chest. There had to be some explanation for the presence of that stamp, some reason other than his father’s knowing agreement. 
“Háma, this is madness. I know your commitment to your duty, but my father is unwell. You have seen it yourself, even better than I have. These cannot be his actual wishes. And if Gríma is doing all that you say, we cannot allow him to further isolate my father from those who would help him.” He grabbed Háma’s hand. “For the sake of your love for the king and your loyalty to him, do not insist on following this order. It would hurt me deeply to take arms against you, but I will do it if that is the only way to get to my father.” He moved his free hand tentatively to the hilt of his sword even as the very idea of using it filled him with disgust. 
Háma stood silently for a few moments and stared hard at the paper still in Théodred’s hand, but when he looked up again it was with new resoluteness. “If that paper says that I must deny entry to Théodred, Second Marshal of the Mark, then it does not say that I must deny entry to Théodred, son of Théoden. You are not here as a soldier to see his king but as a son to see his father. And I won’t stand in the way of that.”
Relief flooded Théodred’s body and he clapped a grateful hand to Háma’s shoulder before throwing open the door and charging inside, Háma close on his heels. 
Part three is here.
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lesbiansforboromir · 1 year
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So (I’m a fan) your Eowyn/Denethor parallels have me thinking – who on earth is Elfhelm? The books mention an “understanding” between he and Eowyn/Dernhelm and that has always fascinated me. Were they old friends? Lovers? Did Eowyn/Dernhelm command him? I know Tolkien is guilty of papering over gaps in his writing that fans work to fill but damn, this to me is one of the book’s great unsolved mysteries. He fascinates me. What’s your take?
Oh I have a very specific take on this, because Elfhelm is one of the older lords riding to the defense of Minas Tirith and is one of the Marshalls of the Rohirrim, the King's Lieutenant (not the First Marshall, since Grima ensures that no one holds that title by the War of the Ring, but functionally Elfhelm operates as First Marshall in that he orders the soldiers surrounding Edoras even if he does not have the authority to call a full muster) alongside Theodred and Eomer as second and third Marshalls. So he is a very important and powerful figure and personally trusted by Theoden. And yes he does appear to have some previous relationship with Eowyn doesn't he? I think that is because she's his niece, at least by adoption. Because Theoden's wife's name was Elfhild and, considering Rohir naming conventions (Theoden, Theodred, Eomer, Eowyn, siblings often sharing the same first particle etc) I would say Elfhelm was Elfhild's brother and so Theoden's brother in law, making him Theodred's uncle and likely very present in Eowyn's life since she was adopted by Theoden. Perhaps he was more supportive of her, perhaps he wished he'd been more able to defend her from Grima's obsession with her, perhaps after failing to save Theodred at the fords he wants to support his surviving family as much as he can? But at the very least, by this point, Elfhelm is happy to keep Eowyn's secret and allow her this last freedom of choice.
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Here's an interesting fucked up 'what if' LotR scenario my brain came up with while I was trying to sleep last night. Something I figured you might find thought provoking as well.
Apologies for the long post, and I'll preface it all by saying I based this on the movies only - I've never read the actual books.
What if Grima Wormtongue wasn't just Theoden's counsellor, but also his illegitimate child?
It happened when Theoden was young - before he married Elfhild, and before Theodred was born. Grima was Theoden's firstborn.
He wanted to acknowledge Grima as his son, but couldn't, because this could have given Grima a claim to the throne, and his parents wanted his heir to be the child of his upcoming marriage to Elfhild, which was then being arranged. Queen Morwen made it clear that by-blow sons from lowborn country girls do not future kings make. Or, maybe Grima's mother was foreign-born (hence the dark hair) and the Rohirrim were a bit xenophobic and wanted a nice, blonde boy as their heir instead.
Theoden took care of Grima. He arranged for him to be educated, then brought him to court and gave him a good job with influence and authority - something appropriate for a King's son.
He never publicly acknowledged Grima, even in his later years, but everyone in Theoden's inner circle knew the truth.
This is why Grima became Theoden's right-hand man, and gained 'undue' influence over him. Everyone just looked at the setup and said 'well, that's the King's secret son, he's just helping his old man out, it's totally fine'.
Not helped by the fact that Theodred wasn't much interested in the business of running the kingdom, and preferred to spend his time hunting or chasing pretty girls (my headcanon), so Grima stepped into the gap that Theodred should have filled.
Saruman knew as well. He sought Grima out, whispered in his ear, persuaded him to act on feelings he'd previously kept to himself.
Grima sold out to Saruman because he resented his position, and his lack of recognition. As the eldest son, he thought he should be Theoden's heir. His parentage and birth status shouldn't matter.
This is why Grima 'assisted' Theodred's death in The Two Towers. Not just to weaken Rohan and further Saruman's plans - to get rid of the competition - the half brother who had everything he didn't.
It's also why Grima had his eye on Eowyn. Not just because she was young and beautiful - also because she was highborn and of the royal line, so a marriage to her would strengthen his claim to the throne. Think Henry VII of England marrying Elizabeth of York.
It's why Grima cried when he saw Saruman's army at Isengard - he realized he was about to be party to his own people's destruction. He's angry at being excluded, but not THAT angry.
Aragorn knew, because he was around when Theoden's thing with Grima's mother happened. It's why Aragorn stopped Theoden from killing Grima on the steps of Meduseld - fathers should never have to kill their sons, even when many would say doing so was justified.
Saruman's comment to Theoden at Isengard has two meanings now. Theoden's not the only man there who's the 'lesser son of a greater sire' - he means Grima as well.
It's why Theoden offered Grima mercy at Isengard, reminded him he was a man of Rohan, asked him to come back, instead of just writing him off. One last appeal from father to son.
It's why Grima attacked Saruman - one last moment of loyalty to his father and his King.
I freely admit this is all totally whack, but if it's okay to write a story where Aragorn meets Harry Potter, why not an AU like this?
I might actually try to write this one day, just for shits and giggles :)
So first, I love all of this and I am here for Bastard Son!Grima. He's out here to have conflicted emotions, a desire for a Family and Acceptance, hurt everyone around him, and to make some of the world's worst decisions.
Also, I feel like there's no need for things to be, idk, "believable" in fanfic re: premise. The whackier the premise the better - because then the characters have to react and it's a fun challenge to be like "so how would Theoden, as we know him, react in this situation wherein he's been betrayed by his son who he loves but also never really was able to demonstrate that to" etc.
and tbf we know literally nothing about Grima's background aside from his father's name - but that can be smudged/a reference to a grandfather/whatever (also Galmod means lust/desire so Grima being a by-blow resulting from Theoden's desire...) - so this is no more crazy than literally anyone else's theory on the matter.
Naturally I think you should write it! I would read the heck out of it.
<3 <3 <3
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swordoaths · 7 months
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Going off the previous post of how important the spoken word is to the people of the Mark, it does merit a bit of discussion on the effects of languages used in the Royal House. Because there was a bit of contention!
So, people of the Mark speak Rohirric, but "the speech of Gondor" started to appear in the Royal house when Thengel King married Morwen Steelsheen, Éomer's grandmother. Morwen was Gondorian (and side note, it's through Morwen's line and her Dúnedain heritage that gives Éomer his height of 6'6"-- more about that here).
When Thengel married Morwen, there was some contention amongst the people of the language being used. It is said in Appendix A that Thengel "proved a good and wise king; though the speech of Gondor was used in his house, and not all men thought that good."
I want to take a bit to explain that contention, and it derives from the fact that the people of the Mark are orally based, and their word and language is the centerpiece of who they are. There are no written words about the people of the Mark, and when there is nothing of that kind, then the words they speak and the language they use become all the more important. And so, there's an arguable understanding as to why the people of the Mark may be less inclined to the thought of another language being used. If, say, Sindarin was historically used in the Royal House, and the vast majority of the people who live in the Mark do not understand it, then how can they trust the word of their King? How can they trust his honor?
Okay-- so then Thengel and Morwen have Elfhild, Théoden, and Théodwyn. Théodwyn is Éomer and Éowyn's mother, so you can see the way the Gondorian connection falls down the line.
Whether Éomer knows Sindarin is not specifically defined, though I would imagine he does understand the language to a certain extent. Certainly he uses Westron, or Common Speech, for others outside the Mark understand him, and only the people of the Mark speak Rohirric.
I don't believe he would default to the use of Sindarin, because Rohirric, to Éomer, is part of his identity and heart. Not speaking Rohirric would be akin to not accepting his culture and heritage. But he certainly is not ignorant of Sindarin. I think his background and family upbringing makes him less suspicious of the language than others may be.
Théodwyn may have used Sindarin in speaking with him, or in singing him songs when he was a child. When Éomer comes to the Royal House and is raised by Théoden, there could have been some Sindarin used there, as well. And then, when Éomer marries Lothíriel, there is yet another connection to the Sindarin language, and arguably a balancing of Rohirric and Sindarin used between them as they raise Elfwine, who is a child of two different cultures. And I do tend to think that Éomer likely spoke in Rohirric and Sindarin when exchanging marital vows to Lothíriel because he comes from an understanding of how important the spoken word is, and therefore wishes to honor her through the way she speaks.
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leerps · 1 year
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the lady maidens of rohan (from left to right)
elfhild, déorwyn, gerda, run, éowyn, gilraen, dernhild, guthwyn, walda
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gift-to-literature · 8 days
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Tar Palantir - Gimilkhad - Tar Miriel - Ar Pharazon
Amandil - Elendil - Isildur - Anarion
Aragorn - Arwen - Eldarion
Thorin - Gimli
Meriadoc Brandybuck - Estella Bolger - Boromir
Peregrin Took - Diamond of Long Cleeve - Faramir
Elanor, Frodo, Nori, Merry, Pippin, Goldilocks, Hamfast, Daisy, Ruby, Marigold, Bilbo, Robin, Tolman
Daisy - Boromir
Ruby - Faramir
Denethor - Finduilas - Boromir - Faramir
Thengel - Morwen - Theoden - Theodwyn
Theoden - Elfhild - Theodred
Eomund - Theodwyn - Eomer - Eowyn
Eomer - Lothiriel - Elfwine
Faramir - Eowyn - Elboron
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amarthfaeg · 7 months
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MUSE INTRODUCTION: idis / ælflæd
verse: lord of the rings / tolkien ( canon … somewhat )
parents: elfhild & théoden
culture: rohirrim
fc: marina ruy barbosa ( specifically her character in deus salve o rei )
an original portrayal of idis, a character from early lord of the rings drafts that was later discarded from the story by tolkien because he felt like she was overshadowed by éowyn. due to this, my portrayal will be mostly based on my own headcanons.
story below the cut.
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idis is the firstborn and only daughter of king théoden and his wife elfhild. she was still a child when her mother elfhild died in childbirth, giving birth to her younger brother théodred.
despite being the firstborn, idis has always lived in the shadow of her brother, as he was the heir to the throne, and she has been fighting all her life to earn the same recognition from her father.
she grew closer to her cousins éowyn and éomer when théoden took them in, but idis’ relationship with her father became more strained after her brother’s death. while she was mourning, his shadow still loomed over her, even in death.
despite her resentment towards her father, idis has always chosen kindness towards everyone else. spending most of her time outside the city walls, she has been teaching herself to fight, practicing with her cousins she cared for as if they were her own siblings.
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brigwife · 1 month
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My most recent rabbithole of research tells me that in Tolkien's world, twins are significantly more common among Elves than Men. In fact there are only two known pairs of twins in the race of Men:
Haleth and Haldar, who crossed the Blue Mountains at the beginning of the first age.
Folcred and Fastred, brothers of King Fengel (and great-great-uncles to Eowyn, Eomer and Theodred
So naturally, I'm taking this information and creating a headcanon that Theodred had a stillborn twin sister. Because he's my Special Little Guy and I wanna give him more Special Little Guy points :)
(p.s - this sister would have been named Idis, as a nod to the daughter of Theoden who appeared in earlier drafts of LOTR)
(p.s.s- Elfhild died in childbirth, so in a way it kinda follows that the pregnancy would be more likely to have complications if it as a multiple one, right?)
@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras tagging you because i thought you might appreciate this thought :')
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morgulscribe · 3 months
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I was wondering if you had any more thoughts on the mouth of Sauron? The version where he did defect is interesting, what would make him do that? I know Tolkien started a story which involved Melkor/Sauron cults in Gondor after the war, but that idea makes more sense to me as something that would happen in Ecthelion’s and Denethor’s rule, a response to Sauron returning among those who expect him to win quickly and want to save themselves. Maybe he was involved in that before fleeing when they were banned and cracked down on? If he was from a prominent noble family I can imagine it being a major scandal, either if he was kidnapped or defected.  
Thank you for asking this intriguing question!
I find all of Tolkien's possible backstories for the Mouth of Sauron to be quite fascinating. To answer your question, I have done a little research on Gondor during the reigns of Steward Ecthelion and Denethor. In 2951, two years before Ecthelion took the throne, Sauron declared himself openly, so dark forces were stirring in Middle-earth. I could not find any reference to internal conflict within Gondor at this time, but the possibility of Melkor/Sauron cults operating in secret is an intriguing one. If Tolkien entertained the idea of these cults arising in the days of peace after Sauron's defeat, it could be entirely possible that there were disloyal Gondorians who secretly served Sauron in the days of the Dark Lord's power.
This concept of Gondorian traitors in league with Sauron would fit in nicely with the second discarded backstory which Tolkien created for the Mouth of Sauron: "But it is said that he was a renegade, son of a house of wise and noble men in Gondor, who becoming enamoured of evil knowledge entered the service of the Dark Tower, and because of his cunning [and the fertile cruelty of his mind] [and servility] he grew ever higher in the Lord’s favour…" (“The Black Gate Opens,” The War of the Ring, p. 431)
In the published version of LOTR, Faramir says, "It is not said that evil arts were ever practiced in Gondor, or that the Nameless One was ever named in honour there […]" ("The Window on the West," The Two Towers, p. 286). However, he does go on to say that many among the Gondorian nobility yearned for immortality, as had the Numenoreans. "Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living […]," and "[…] in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars." To me, this implies that some of the Gondorian kings and nobles were dabbling in alchemy, sorcery, and other forms of magic in an attempt to evade old age and death.
One of the major themes in Tolkien's writing is that it is VERY BAD to attempt to halt change, and a desire to do so leaves one vulnerable to the schemes of Sauron. While Faramir implies that Gondor's flirtation with elaborate tombs and preservation magic diminished with the rule of the kings, perhaps that was not truly the case.
If there was an element of internal corruption within Gondor, the return of Sauron to Mordor in 2951 would definitely have stirred the murky waters. When Faramir says that evil arts were never practiced in Gondor, he was comparing Gondor to Numenor. While Numenor descended into evil and wicked deeds, Gondor remained upon the path of light. However, individuals do not always represent their country, and there may have been a dark malignancy buried deep under the surface.
If one entertains the possibility that the Mouth of Sauron was a renegade Gondorian nobleman in league with the Dark Lord, perhaps his true loyalties were discovered and he was forced to flee Gondor. Logically, this would indeed cause quite a scandal! However, it's possible that his defection was covered up so as to avoid bringing shame to his family, or to discourage others from switching allegiances. It's also possible that the Gondorians practice damnatio memoriae - the removal of the name of a disgraced person from all official records. The ancient Egyptians practiced this custom, and Tolkien compares Numenor and Gondor to ancient Egypt on several occasions. Over the years, fans have theorized that this is why there is no record of the names of the three Numenorean lords who became Nazgul.
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motleystitches · 11 months
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A list of known single parenthood in Tolkien
continued from a previous post on Nerdanel and Feanor because Tolkien actually do not write of orphans...(except for possibly sort of Elros and Elrond AND FRODO)
-=-=
Finwe, raising Feanor after Miriel went to Mandos, remarried- Feanor grew up with trust-issues
Turgon, raising Idril after losing Elenwe to Helcaraxe
(arguable) Curufinwe, raising Celebrimbor alone (no mother's ever mentioned and he wasn't mentioned in the crossing, so presumably not full-grown yet when he arrived in middle-earth? probably born in Middle-earth...)
Elwing, raising Elros and Elrond after Earendil...sailed away
(arguable) Maglor, raising Elros and Elrond....by adoption...sortof (I actually do think this childhood definitely influenced Elro's choice to be mortal instead of elven)
Morwen, raising Nienor after sending Turin to Doriath
Elendis, raising Ancalime since Aldarion's an absent father -- Ancalime grew up with trust issues
Gilraen, raising Aragorn after death of Arathorn
Theoden, raising Theodred after Elfhild died in childbirth (and then both Eowyn and Eomer)
Theodwyn, raising Eowyn and Eomer for a few years after Eomund died before succumbing to illness
Denethor, raising Boromir and Faramir after Finduilas died young
This list excludes Elrond, because I think his children were full grown when Celebrian went to Valinor for healing
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