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anghraine · 1 year

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I know I talk pretty regularly about Faramir's weird command over animals, both because he's my fave and it's cool, and because it's just such a strange detail. But I've also been thinking for awhile about some less direct but still intriguing quotes about how he relates to animals.

So, the usual ones first. Here's Beregond, describing Faramir getting his horse to run towards five Nazgûl while the other horses are fleeing:

‘They will make the Gate. No! the horses are running mad. Look! the men are thrown; they are running on foot. No, one is still up, but he rides back to the others. That will be the Captain [Faramir]: he can master both beasts and men.’

Then there are nameless soldiers in Minas Tirith, watching the orderly part of the retreat across the Pelennor:

The watchers held their breath. 'Faramir must be there,’ they said. 'He can govern man and beast.’

(For context, the ancient Númenóreans he takes after could summon particularly beloved horses by thought alone.)

But also, back in TTT, we heard some interesting details that may be pertinent. Firstly, there's Faramir himself, speaking to Sam:

'Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago. For I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor. But I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly even when it is needed.'

And when Anborn reports glimpsing the creature that turns out to be Gollum, he says to Faramir,

'You will not have us slay wild beasts for no purpose, and it seemed no more, so I tried no arrow.'

I think the suggestion here is that it's not standard policy for them to avoid killing wild animals, but a command from Faramir specifically. And he's clear here that he doesn't kill animals for any purpose other than necessity.

And I mean ... if I could get nervous animals to run straight towards Ringwraiths, I'd probably feel weird about killing them, too. But it all does fit together very neatly.

#i joke about horse girl faramir rights but actually faramir is a friend to all animals! of course he is!#we know gondorians and rohirrim do hunt as a practice #that's how the stewards created boromir's horn and the rohirrim hunt drúedain apparently #one hopes not for food #that practice is thankfully over but they'd still hunt animals and such—and iirc the vala they most reverence is oromë the hunter #so i'm just imagining faramir parked in rohan and politely declining to join any of the hunts #which probably seems pretty wimpy if they don't know why. and then he ends up befriending an ungovernable horse or something #but also i really enjoy how it escalates from 'maybe he's a pacifist vegetarian at heart?' to like. berúthiel shit if she weren't evil.#long post #anghraine babbles #faramir #jewel of the seashore #legendarium blogging #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings

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severussnapedamagedlove · 1 year

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Eomer X OC Fluff Scene

This is an excerpt from a fic I’ve been working on...

Eomer was bent over a table. A map stretched across its length. There were lands he had memorized listed, where his memory filled in the gaps with ridges and dips, valleys and streams too little to be noted on the map’s face. Grimbol pointed to a section where a grouping of farms laid on the outskirts of The East Fold.

His eyes squinted at the map in search of something.

“I have news of the Hlud if I could just find it…” The old voice said.

The king reached and pointed to the spot where the Hlud lived. “Here, Grim.”

“Ah, yes. The Hlud reports of - .”

There was sound in the Golden Hall that echoed through the barren aisles. It was cleared of the day. Post celebration come down was still underway since the grand royal party a few days prior.

Even Eomer was dressed down in tunic and leggings, devoid of finery.

He gave little consequence to the noise, as he expected it was Heferth back with reports of how much the celebration had cost the coffers. However, he shot another look quickly when he realized it was Lady Eira in a simple loose dress he recognized from one of Rohan’s wardrobes. It was especially remembered by Eomer. It was one of his mothers.

“Lady Eira,” he said with stern surprise. “You should be resting.”

“I have done naught but rest, your grace.”

Her gait was stilted. Her face winced with each motion.

Eomer stepped away from his advisor at the high seat and approached the wandering woman with no business attempting to walk after an injury like the one she had suffered.

The memory of her warm blood between his fingers still filled his mind, never to leave.

“Are you in search of something, my lady?”

She shook her head. The muscles of her neck tightened. Her hand reached forward and grasped to the edge of a nearby table, wobbling ever so slight. “Just a stroll.”

His heart sped as he neared. The thick cling of her sweat struck his nose. She exude too much to be healed. His brow fell.

“I don’t need tending to, so don’t even ask,” she snapped.

When her eyes finally met his, there was a cruel twist in their bodies. The pallid color of her face stabbed him further through.

Theodred’s face. It was back at the river, pulling his beloved cousin from the blood stained waters, seeing that same lifeless tone to his body. That tangy swell in his mouth brought him back to that haunted moment in time where chaos surged throughout him and stayed for many long months.

Eomer blinked away from the memory. “I am not asking. I am telling.” He tilted his head with a warning look. “Please, retire.”

Her jaw clicked in place.

“I will escort you back to your chambers.” His arm rounded behind her back to direct her back the way she’d came to prevent any falls to the floor.

The lady stiffened her grip on the table. “No thank you. Your grace.”

Eomer shook his head. There was no option in his mind that would allow her to walk around his palace so gravely injured without care. The risk to her body was too great. He’d be on constant edge.

His hands practically shook in fear. “I will not permit you to continue in this state.”

“I am not yours to worry about.”

That stung his heart. He blinked back his surprise, recovering quickly.

“I swore your safety to your friends before they departed,” he stated evenly. “My sister would have my head if I let you injure yourself further. Just stop being so self-righteous and let yourself be cared for.”

The fact that she refused his help festered deeper and deeper as time passed.

When her knees buckled, he reached out for her on instinct. His heart beating fast as she fell right into his arms. The fragile trembling of her body from so little movement settled his resolve. She was far too ill to be upright.

He cradled her against his chest as he lifted her up.

“Eomer,” she slipped, forgoing his title. “Put me down. I can walk on my own.”

The servants of the palace parted from his way as he marched through his palace halls. It was a worn path of memory back to his sister’s old rooms. All the while, Eira resisted. Her body was too weak to fight. The tongue within her mouth, however, was another story.

“Put me down. I am not some damsel. My legs are capable of walking. This is so unbecoming a king, you know. Th-they do not permit such actions by royals.”

“I was not born to be a king,” he said evenly. Her weight was nothing to his strength. “And I was not raised to let a lady suffer so.”

They made it to the door. It, the last obstacle in his path.

“Oh,” she said. The journey over, there was no point in fighting his hold. “I can get that.”

The bed was the only place he would place her.

His leg raised and kicked against the wood. The door flew open at the force and clattered against the wall behind.

“Hot water. Cloths. Oils,” he shouted.

Eira’s body relaxed in his arms. He felt her settle further, easier to hold to his body. A subtle excitement filled his veins.

“Have you eaten?” He asked her quietly.

“A little,” she admitted.

He turned his head around at the servants he knew lingered near. “And a meal. Bring it all to Lady Eira’s room immediately.” The door was kicked back closed behind him.

“You should stop calling me Lady Eira,” she murmured.

Her hands clasped behind his neck as he lowered her to the fluffy top of her bed. He released her only when he believed her settled in its hold.

“It gives them the wrong idea. Moreso with me staying in this room. I should be in the servants quarters or in a house out in the city. Not here.”

“Your wellbeing has been trusted to me,” he explained as he pulled the chair from the desk over to her bedside. “And I take care of those in my stead.”

Eira raised herself against the headboard of her bed. Her face turned lazy, less stiff. “I am not a lady, your grace.”

“You are to me.”

He swore at the slightest coloring to her cheeks. The way her lips lifted from a thin line to the start of a smile had him in raptures. It was impossible to look away from her beautiful blue eyes and devious tongue that toyed with him – he was sure that she did – at every given opportunity.

A small knock was at the door. She raised herself, as if to get up to answer.

He put his hand to his chest. “Please,” he said gently. “Stay. Allow me.”

The doorway spilled a mess of servants all bearing gifts of food and drink and bandage and a steaming bowl of water. There was a stack of small cut cloths placed alongside the bowl. A hearty stuffed tray with roasted wild game and vegetables of the land with small dishes of spiced apples and small foraged berries. It was placed at her side on the bedspread.

Eomer nodded his head as the servants bowed in their leave. He made sure to close the door behind them.

He began to roll the long sleeves of his tunic. The rolling white cloud off the water had him wince ever so slight as his hands split the surface. He pulled a cloth into the waters, allowing it to swell with the heat before he wringed it free and brought it over to the side of the bed.

Lady Eira watched his motion through lazy eyes. Her head rested against the board for support. He saw the drain. What little she had done was too much.

She placed her wrist in his outstretched hand. He ran the cloth along the exposed flesh of her forearm and hand, taking care to be gentle against her skin. It was so slender in his hold. There were seldom things so small and dainty in the Riddermark.

“You are not what I expected,” she revealed after a time of watching him rinse her skin of the dense sweat throughout her. “Warrior king Eomer. Brave, bold, horse lord of Rohan.” When he said nothing on the matter, she continued. “I’ve heard of your brazen attitude, reckless and brave with stupidity. Your words are daggers, blunter than your spears but none the less piercing.” He kept quiet and allowed her mind to flow than staggered thought. He rather liked the fill of her voice. It chased away the flashbacks that took the heart of him at times. “It is not a learned behavior from Eowyn, I take it.”

That finally brought a small smile to his mouth. “Is that how I am spoken of in the other kingdoms?”

“It is said with respect,” she answered. “Seldom better spoke of, in terms of men. Aragorn excluded.”

He settled back to the seat at her bedside. The weight of many restless days pulled at him. A course jumpy ride through emotions had him stretched thin ready for rest.

“My parents died when I was young. My father, cut down by orcs. And not long after, my mother gave up. She seldom had the strength to get out of bed. I would cry and pull her arms and try to drag her out, but I was not strong enough to save her.” He cleared his throat. The words became a struggle to get out. “The only people left in the world were my sister, my cousin and my uncle. All of whom have gone on in these years. By one leave or another.”

Eira looked at him with a strange expression. He did not understand it.

“I hated that feeling.” Her voice was small as she picked at pieces of her dress.

“What feeling,” he asked.

“Being left behind…I hated being left in Rivendell. My father would go and protect the border. Not a place for children, he’d say. He’d want me to tend to my studies and practice with my bow, but.” Her eyes swam in gentle waters. “All I ever wanted was to be with him.”

It was in that moment that Eomer was struck off his guard. He never said the words aloud, as they were too fragile for his tone, but he often felt that same desolate feeling of being left behind. It was first at the death of his father, then watching his mother live on in hell until she was granted enough peace to be freed. Eowyn lived fierce and wild. He had no choice but to keep up or else lose her, too.

There were so few in the world who knew how devastating it was to be the only one remaining.

Eira was a kindred soul. He felt it inside himself the more time passed. She was a piece that he recalled missing. Apart that he did not want to do without any longer.

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aurore-parle-de-ses-idees · 1 year

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you think corudan is the chill one in mini fellowship right up until he sees his bow and just goes [vibrating] 'hey buddy :) dyou mind if i maybe possibly have my bow back :) because it's mine :)' and gets everyone in a race over it

#lotro #and then you go 'oh! oh ok no one here knows how to calm down actually alright'#you think corudan's just a funny little guy with a boat #and next to nona 'yeah sure i'll come on a quest with you bc of a weird dream :)' of lhanuch #and horn 'how many times can i get kicked out of places in rohan' of eaworth #it seems like he is!#but he was *also* down to go on a wild adventure with you without much persuading so like

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whats-in-a-sentence · 1 year

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Where now is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,

Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

"The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers" - J.R.R. Tolkien

#book quotes #lotr #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #rohan #rohirrim #horses #horse riding #horn #harp #helmet #hauberk #fire #mountain #rain #meadow #singing #song #aragorn #numenoreans #sea

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southfarthing · 2 years

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it's been months and lothrandir is still in jail btw. not that you (lotro epic quest line) care

#seriously though where is he .... im enjoying the corudan nona horn in rohan story but like.....#i miss my boys (grey company).... and I miss my Boy (lothrandir) 😔😔😔#lotro #lotro spoilers #dont actually tell me rjbddufbdh i will find him eventually I'm sure i will #mp

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neornuna · 11 months

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for nimbo: 15 , 21 , 26 || for rohan: 14 , 12 , 18

(accepting)

15. what is their favorite genre of music? // They enjoy dubstep and ska. 21. in a relationship, are they the ones stealing their partners' clothing? or are they the ones having their clothes stolen? // If their partner has accessories they can steal, they're so stealing scarfs and shit to wear on their downtime. They don't have any clothes to steal, but they do have fun scarfs to steal! 26. what is their favorite snack food? // They like making tiny versions of a lot of things in the food generator. Sure, they could have one big chocolate cake, or they could have three small human sized ones to snack on.

12. do they have any sensitivities to tastes? // He dislikes fungal tastes. Not a fan of the shrooms, and gives Nimbus dirty looks every time they have a mushroom and sausage omelette. 14. is there a sound that drives them crazy? ( like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, styrofoam rubbing together, cardboard boxes, etc?) // Knifeboards crashing into the side of a building. More recently, Lightbearers crashing into the side of a building, as well. 18. what household chore do they absolutely hate doing? // Dusting. He's too big for it, he thinks the dusters look silly, he just leaves it to the roombas.

#nimbus // wax on wax off.#rohan // don't mess with the bull young man. you'll get the horns.#ask tag // yeah. and your looks are kind of pretty...when your face isn't screwing it up.

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masterelrond · 2 years

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where’s my “Survived the Battle of the Hornburg” shirt!!!!!

#now i can finally tick 'participate in a major battle in the war of the ring' off my bucket list #while i've treasured the company of Nona Horn and Corudan i'm ready to see my babygirls (grey company) again!!!!#Linewen misses Radanir terribly and the fate of Lothrandir weighs ever on her mind #and while the plains of Rohan were beautiful the neverending tasks and padding grew redundant much too quickly #now let's get ready to beat Saruman's ass!!!!!!!#lotro #nori disrupts air

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mlmxreader · 3 months

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The Royal Ranger | Legolas x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Legolas

16 "I know you're watching me" ❞

: ̗̀➛ there is another ranger in Legolas' life, one who happens to be his favourite.

: ̗̀➛ mentions of violence

↳ @thesnowurzikdjinn @arthurmorgansballsack

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The forest was quiet. The trees barren of leaves as the cold chill of winter began to creep up to its worst, but still bursting with life as the birds fluttered amongst the branches; in a few months, the branches would be adorned with thousands of nests ready for thousands of little lives.

The bushes were scattered with ripe berries protected by small and fat spiders of brown and yellow; they stood guard so loyally and so bravely, using their webs to tell when friend or foe or food was approaching.

Amongst the dark green and harsh yellow grasses, foxes and hares ran and dug through the thick black dirt; bursting and bubbling with life amongst the cold and damp weather. In the night, wolves would howl amongst themselves as they got lost in the dark and separated from one another; their harsh jaws gnashing and gnawing as they chased down deer and foxes alike.

The forest was always bursting with life. It was home, as much as it could be.

True home still lied to the West; across a short sea, there laid a large island made up of three kingdoms.

One, and the furthest to the West, was ruled by a fair and just king who had been chosen by his people; with a red dragon at his side, he saw that his people were always looked after and comfortable.

The King saw that his rangers were trained by the best in Middle Earth; he sent them to the Rangers of the North for training and always saw that they were treated well upon their return.

The King's dragon, Drygyn, was a pleasant creature, too; towering, with legs like thick branches and jaws big enough to swallow a house in one gulp, was always happy to allow the children of the kingdom to climb upon his great armoured back, and always protected his people when called to do so.

To the East of that Kingdom was another; ruled by an arrogant and ill-tempered king, it was a horrid place. Filled with greed and destruction; the people and their unelected king despised those to the West, and if it had not been for Rohan and the Elves, they would have destroyed it and stolen it for themselves.

So greedy they were, that not even dragon sickness could describe their conditions. Not even the most selfish and covetous of dragons could match them.

But the kingdom that sat the most North was kind; ruled by a king who rode a horse with a singular horn, he was a pleasant man who saw that his people were well off and looked over.

He held elections once a year, and always won them; he had the hearts of his people, and he always aided the kingdom in the West.

The West and North were brothers, as much as they could be without sharing blood; they shared it on the battlefield, and would for ever be close.

Originally part of the King of The West's royal guard, you had been asked if you wanted to become a ranger; the king himself had recognised your skills and talents, and had asked you personally. He would see to it that you would be well looked after during your training, and wanted you to expand your horizons as much as you could.

Six years, he said, and then you would be able to come home; but if you wished to stay in Middle Earth, he would also understand. He would send gold across the short sea to give you your pension; once a month, eighty gold coins. Six years later, when he had written to you to ask, you admitted that you wished to stay.

Your mentor, Aragorn, who was only four years older than you, treated you well and through him, you had met an Elf Prince and fallen in love with him. The King was overjoyed, so much so, that his letter in response was written with shaky hands and littered with constant praise and congratulations.

It made you laugh when you read it to Legolas and Aragorn, and they had smiled and laughed along with you just as much; Thranduil was also the recipient of a letter from the king, and found it amusing how a king could sound so much like a commoner.

He didn't realise that, once upon a time, the king was a commoner.

Within the forest, though, you heard familiar footsteps approaching; you tilted your head, listening closely as you closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled the scents.

Aragorn and Legolas.

You smiled, quick to climb up a tree with efficency and silence; burying yourself amongst the empty branches as you tried not to laugh. They passed beneath you, calling your name loudly; you furrowed your brows as they looked around, unable to pick up your trail as much as they had tried.

Aragorn had taught you well, and your service to the King of The West had taught you even more beforehand. You were a soldier at heart, yet took to a Ranger's life more easily than a dragon to gold. You heard Aragorn sigh as he turned to Legolas, who didn't seem convinced as he raised a brow and called out loudly.

"I know you're watching me! Show yourself!"

You huffed, making your way down and through the trees until you stood beside him. "Is this any better?"

"You were stalking me," Legolas hummed.

"We've been together for half a mortal's life," you pointed out. "Hardly stalking."

"Hunting, then," he argued with a smile on his lips.

"We need your assistance," Aragorn started, "all three of us have been summoned to Lord Elrond."

"So?" You shrugged. "I'm sure whatever it is, you can deal with it."

"No," he shook his head. "Arwen and I took four hobbits to Rivendell. One of them bears the Ring."

"A hobbit? With a ring of power?" You asked with a scoff. "Impossible."

"It's true," Legolas admitted. "I saw them all myself."

"And what are we to do?" You asked.

"I cannot tell you here," Aragorn admitted. "Please. Come with us."

You grumbled as you whistled for your horse. "Fine."

He was a big, towering beast with a short cut and trimmed mane so that it couldn't be snagged upon branches or grabbed by enemy hands either; with his tail short and trimmed as well, he was easy to ride through forests. His massive hooves adorned with a red and green and white painted flag on them, he was easy to spot.

A dragon birthmark sat on his left shoulder, bright red and almost glowing; all horses born in the West Kingdom had that birthmark. Just as all the dogs had it on their chests, all the sheep and goats and cows had it on their left thigh, and all the people had it on their left shoulders. All bright red, and all treated as a mark of pride.

The royal guard, however, were all born with the dragon upon their right forearms; their armour was always engraved with bright red dragons on a half white background that stopped halfway down and was white the rest of the way.

They fought with swords that had triangular tips like spears, mimicking the dragon's tongue and tail, all made with bright red steel; upon their helmets, they always wore leeks of beautiful green and daffodils of bright gold.

They were awed by everyone from every kingdom, and were some of the best fighters in all of the world; they were revered for their just and kind nature, and sought after for their impeccable skills on the battlefield. Seasoned fighters, they could take giants down with just a sweep of their swords.

You got upon your horse, looking at Legolas and Aragorn with a raised brow as you tilted your head; Aragorn gave a whistle, and his horse came trotting along, but Legolas made no such sound and no horse came looking for him either. He looked up at you, smiling as he offered his hand.

"Well?" You hummed. "Get walking, green boy."

Legolas scowled at you, trying not to laugh but failing so miserably. "Let me up."

"Do I have to?" You asked, grabbing his hand and hoisting him up behind you. "You may want to hold on, pointy ears."

"Quiet," he grumbled, his arms around your waist as he drew close to your body. Smiling to himself.

At the Council of Elrond, however, there was an unexpected surprise; sitting honourably near the other men, sat your king.

With his dark skin and dark eyes, he looked absolutely gorgeous bathed in the soft golden light of the council; his white and green armour shimmered, the red dragon on his breastplate shining brightly and the one upon his face seemingly glowing.

The pointed tail rested on his neck, whilst the rest of the four legged beast trailed to the side of his mouth, its head just below his eye.

Beside him sat the King of The North; proud, his armour was thick, and deep blue with a bright white X painted across the breastplate. His brown skin seemed to glisten in the light and he smiled softly as he nodded at you; you nodded back, tears in your eyes and your vision slowly beginning to blur as you felt your bottom lip tremble.

Across from them, however, and distanced from the rest of the council, was the King of The East. His pale white skin seemed dull and slimy as he leaned back; with his bright blue eyes, he scowled at everyone, his lip turned upwards and exposing a few of his white teeth. His fingers were thick and grubby, unwashed for years, and red at the tips. He seemed to sneer as you walked past.

The Queen of the island that sat to the West of all three kingdoms, however, sat beside the West and North kings; she was beautiful, dark skin so gently touched by the golden lights of the council, around her neck sat beautiful light green jewels, dazzling the same way that stars did.

Her dress was orange and white and green, bringing out the shades of green within her hair and painted upon her nails. They called her the Emerald Queen, and she was known to be just and kind as well as firm and strong; she was gorgeous, and her dark green, almost black, eyes caught yours as she smiled.

You smiled back, bowing and bending your knee.

"My Lady," you said softly. "It is an honour to meet you."

She pulled you up, shaking her head. "No one bows to me, nor I to them. We are all equals here, Ranger."

"Ranger, indeed," your king grinned, coming to stand beside you as he patted your back gently. The red dragon upon his face seemed to glow. "My finest. Once my best royal guard, now my best ranger."

The King of The East sneered as he scoffed, turning to Legolas. "This is an insult to me. I have been assaulted."

Legolas raised a brow as he looked at him; his lips were thin, almost nonexistent, and his thin grey hair and his thin grew brows were no distraction from his ghastly looking face.

He seemed to be rotting from the inside, and even his red, white and blue robes would not distract from such a heinous smell; his voice sounded sickly, and made Legolas' stomach churn. He put his hand on the King's shoulder, shaking his head in warning.

"That ranger is under my protection, and under the protection of my father," he hissed. "You shall not look if you are not told directly."

"Legolas, come come!" Your king beamed. "Emerald, my Queen, you must meet Legolas!"

Legolas laughed softly as he walked over, shaking her hand and letting his arm rest upon your waist. "It is an honour, my Lady."

"Your ranger here is lovely," she complimented. "And I must admit that, if you had not caught such a heart, I might have."

"It's a shame we have to meet under such circumstances," you told her.

"Perhaps," Legolas hummed. "One day, we will meet again."

The Emerald Queen nodded as she leaned back into her seat. "Whatever your fellowship requires of me, of my people, know that you have it... but be warned."

The King of The North nodded as he stole a look at her. "Oh, aye. The East Kingdom cannae be trusted with the Ring."

"Agreed," your king agreed, glaring at Legolas in certainty. "They cannot."

"Tell Elrond," the Emerald Queen insisted. "He cannot trust the East King."

"Eva," the North agreed. "They cannae eva be trusted."

"No, never," your king concluded. "They will use the ring to commit terrible acts, they can never have it."

Legolas pulled you aside while the formalities continued; he kept you close, hiding behind one of the many white pillars as he smiled, sighing heavily.

You both knew what would be asked of you, and you knew what would come if you were to fall; you didn't mind, gently placing your hands against his chest as you dared to smile.

"You're almost as warm as a dragon," you whispered. "I fell asleep against him many times whilst on guard duty... Legolas?"

"Yes?"

You licked your lips, sighing as you swallowed thickly. "If I should fall... please, return me to my kingdom."

"Of course," he agreed quietly, nodding curtly. "But I cannot allow that to happen. If you fall, I will, too."

"No-"

"Yes."

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tenth-sentence · 1 year

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The slow voices of the Riders stirred the hearts even of those who did not know the speech of that people; but the words of the song brought a light to the eyes of the folk of the Mark as they heard again afar the thunder of the hooves of the North and the voice of Eorl crying above the battle upon the Field of Celebrant; and the tale of the kings rolled on, and the horn of Helm was loud in the mountains, until the Darkness came and King Théoden arose and rode through the Shadow to the fire, and died in splendour, even as the Sun, returning beyond hope, gleamed upon Mindolluin in the morning.

"The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" - J.R.R. Tolkien

#book quote #lotr #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #trotk #the return of the king #holy run on sentence batman #funeral #memorial #riders of rohan #rohirrim #theoden #field of celebrant #horn of the helm #mindolluin #singing #song

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 3 months

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I’m (maybe?) almost done with a Théodred story I’ve been working on for a long time and, in looking back over some of my notes about his canon life, I couldn’t help clocking the many similarities between his experiences and those of LOTR’s other first son of a kingdom of men, Boromir. It’s not super relevant to my story, but I ended up with this running list and I’m just sticking it here because why not. None of this is groundbreaking stuff (and there are probably more) but so far I have that Théodred and Boromir both:

1. Were heirs to the leadership of their respective realms and held their land’s senior military positions (Second Marshal for Théodred—there being no First Marshal at the time—and Captain of the White Tower for Boromir).

2. Lost their mothers early (Théodred at birth and Boromir at age 10) and grew up in households run entirely by powerful fathers who never remarried.

3. Ended up taking on dangerous challenges at least in part because those fathers were both having their reason and good judgment manipulated by opponents (Théoden through the treachery of Gríma/Saruman and Denethor by the selective truths shown to him by Sauron in the palantír).

4. Got killed in a battle where their opponents were targeting them to the exclusion of others around them (Saruman’s forces at the Isen were told to kill Théodred at all costs even while “disregarding” others, and the orcs at Parth Galen fire their arrows “always at Boromir” while leaving Merry and Pip untouched).

5. Were trying to summon aid at the time they were struck down (Théodred is shouting “To me, Eorlingas!” to summon reinforcements when he’s fatally wounded. Boromir blows his great horn to alert the rest of the fellowship before he’s brought down).

6. Took massive injuries but lived long enough afterward to pass on last words in which they invoke the names of the men who will come to replace them as leaders and express the hope that those next leaders will achieve victory (Elfhelm and Grimbold believe Théodred is dead before they discover he’s still breathing just enough to say, “Let me lie here to keep the fords til Éomer comes.” Boromir, as we all know, lays there with those arrows in his chest long enough to be found by Aragorn, at which point he says, “Farewell, Aragorn. Go to Minas Tirith and save my people.”).

7. Died within hours of each other (Théodred on the night on February 25 and Boromir around midday on the 26) at the same age of 41 because, oh yeah, they were also born within months of each other.

8. Didn’t get a burial/funeral in keeping with their status and the traditions of their people because they died in awful circumstances far from home (Théodred dies and is buried by Elfhelm and Grimbold’s companies at the fords rather than in the barrows outside of Edoras with his ancestors. Boromir is sent over the falls by the three hunters instead of laying in Rath Dínen with the other kings and stewards of Gondor).

9. Mentored and protected little brother-type figures (Faramir as Boromir’s actual little brother and Éomer as Théodred’s cousin/adopted little bro) who would go on to achieve what they were unable to do themselves while alive.

10. Died unmarried and childless despite being extremely marriageable, in the primes of their lives and presumably expected to produce another heir. (There’s an explanation given for Boromir—he’s not into women and prefers fighting and arms—though there is none for Théodred.) (Like many other people, I have my own personal HC for Théodred’s romantic life, but that’s for another day.)

I’m not sure what to make of all that, but I find it interesting. We hear so often about contrasts between Gondor and Rohan—the different histories and heritages, the personality of cold, hard Denethor against kindly, grandfatherly Théoden, the magisterial stone and marble of Minas Tirith versus the rustic wood and thatch of Edoras, Gondor’s vast libraries and the Rohirrim’s oral traditions—but they’re so deeply linked as kingdoms and as individuals. By fate and by choice, they’re inextricably tied together, and I love the amount of detail that went into creating and including the subtle parallels between the first sons of each land as just one more way to see those ties play out.

#lord of the rings #lotr #boromir #theodred #théodred #rohan #gondor #oath of eorl #first sons #shared histories

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