#rangers of arnor

[ettelenethelien]

Headcanon: Female Rangers are never common among the Dunedain, but there's also always at least one because it's not forbidden either.

#look I don't actually think women need to wield swords #but i also don't think it doesn't look cool in fiction #my post #tolkien #lotr #dunedain #rangers of arnor

[wilcze-kudly]

Tlok Lord of the rings au because i'm squishing my hyperfixations together like a crazy lil 5 year old.

Korra- I'd say dwarf... she matches the stereotypical dwarf personality to a T. Notoriously stubborn, loyal and hardy. The most resistant to the corruption of evil as well. Also, controversial opinion... out of the Krew, Korra deserves a beard most. Also. Give her an axe. Or a sledgehammer. Let her wreak havoc. I think her family would come from Khazad-dûm and be directly related to the line of Durin. Though I feel like she'd reside in the Blue Mountains and unlike most of her kin, she'd have an appreciation for water and the sea.

Asami- Elf. Elf. With her glorious hair and agility??? Hell yeah. She'd be descended from the Avari and live in Mirkwood. I think the moral ambiguity and hostility of the Mirkwood elves touches nicely on Asami's original role as a villain. Also coming from such a combative area would have her learning combat as well, if even better, than her canon counterpart.

Also korrasami would be super cute as a dwarf/elf relationship lol. Korra's already canon shortie. And it would replicate their little rivalry in season 1. Just instead of fighting over Mako, they're fighting over centuries of mutual racial animosity.

Bolin and Mako - ok. Im getting real controversial here. Hobbits. Fucking hobbits. Now. Hear me out. More Brandybuck/Took coded hobbits I'd say. Probably grown up in Bree... tiny orphans in a big world. So sad.

Bolin is an easy pick. Although he's pretty big and bulky, his character has a lot in common with typical hobbits. Not a coincidence that my two fave characters are him and Samwise Gamgee... I love my dirt himbos. Bolin has that gentle, cheerful hobbit vibes. And he likes food too lol.

Mako also has hobbit vibes, I'd argue. However he has a lot of that hobbit typical caution ans suspicion towards the outside world. I could see him valuing a home and prosperity...give this man a hobbit hole He's so stressed he deserves it.

Tenzin, Kya and Bumi. - half elves, Rivendel. Tenzin is basically Elrond, ok? Bumi chose humanity good for him. Kai is the scruffy human they adopted à la Aragorn.

Lin and the Beifongs- honestly was stumped at this one... but I kinda think humans, particularly Dúnedain of Arnor. A noble people, now acting as Rangers, protectors of the land... matches Lin, our favourite chief of police, huh?

#korra #asami sato #korrasami #mako #bolin #tenzin #kya ii #bumi ii #lin beifong #the beifong family #lotr au #legend of korra #tlok #the legend of korra #avatar #avatar the legend of korra #atlok

[anarchotolkienist]

What would be your ideal Tolkien-inspired game?

Since I assume we're talking about video games here (and not One Ring 2nd e, which I honestly think is pretty close to the platonic ideal of a Lord of the Rings TTRPG, or war of the ring, a really really good boardgame), what will mostly be needed is an understanding of the themes of the books and of Arda for any game that engages with the wprld in a fairly direct, non-abstracted way (think something like the old War in the North action-RPG, to pick an example that was Alright if you can stand action-RPGs, or to pick the sort of platonic ideal for the worst thing to do with Arda, those fucking mind control ghost ranger in Nûrnen games whatever they're called), which I honestly don't really trust games as a medium, as immature as the artform still is, to be able to handle. But I'd like to see more artful interpretations of little-known parts, and I think that some sort of minimalistic thing that doesn't care too much about being all actiony and game-y, that doesn't have a large budget and so doesn't need to appeal much to the film crowd and that focuses on existing in world and experiencing some part of it - something a bit like Year's Walk maybe, but set in Beleriand before the fall, or in the North of the Third Age, or before the Fall of Arnor (maybe during the reign of Arvedui) - somewhere we haven't really seen in other media but we still have enough information about to be able to recognise and to see the richness of, and that takes like five hours to complete.

The main thing I don't want is what has been happening, which is triple-A action games set in Middle Earth, they have been universally awful.

#assuming that Tolkien-inspired here means 'set in Arda' #I will say that I am cautiously interested in Hobbit Moon

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

What are your thoughts and theories about Dunedain women? They're not really named or talked about, but they must exist

You’re so right! And thank you for this ask! :)

The Dúnedain women are fascinating, and I wish Tolkien had written more about them. I’m assuming you’re asking about Dúnedain women in Middle-earth, but I want to go back earlier and talk about the Númenoreans first.

There were three Ruling Queens of Númenor—Tar-Ancalimë, Tar-Telperiën and Tar-Vanimeldë—but there would have been four, if Tar-Míriel had not been forced to marry Ar-Pharazôn against her will. I find Míriel’s fate really tragic. Not only did her cousin force her to marry him and usurp the throne from her, then she had to watch as he became more and more corrupt and authoritarian (under Sauron’s influence) and ultimately brought about the downfall of her kingdom.

But I find it really interesting that (until Ar-Pharazôn ruined everything) Númenor had such egalitarian rules of succession. This was because Tar-Aldarion changed the laws so that Tar-Ancalimë, his daughter, could inherit the crown from him. Although Númenor had male-only primogeniture before that, I think it’s important to note that this law change happened quite early in its history—Númenor had twenty-five rulers, and Tar-Aldarion was the sixth. It’s also interesting to me that a power-hungry man illegitimately taking away the political authority of a woman is such an essential part of the downfall of Númenor.

And speaking of a man usurping the rightful Queen, I’m still mad that Fíriel didn’t become the Ruling Queen of Gondor after her father, King Ondoher, and her two elder brothers, were killed. She was the rightful heir to the throne according to the ancient laws of Númenor! She should have become Queen of Gondor! (I’ve been upset about this ever since I was 13 years old and reading the ROTK appendices for the first time.) But Eärnil II claimed the crown, and then his son Eärnur received it, and he was killed, and the rule of Gondor passed to the Stewards; and Eärnur was the last King of Gondor until Aragorn took the throne more than 900 years later, so once again, a man usurping a woman’s political power led to extremely dire consequences for the Dúnedain. If Eärnil hadn’t wrongfully taken the crown from Fíriel, the line of Kings and Queens wouldn’t have been broken and Gondor and Arnor wouldn’t have fallen into disarray.

(I think the narrative agrees with me, too, because Eärnur was described as valiant but not wise, a man who took pleasure chiefly in fighting, and he ultimately died because he was too proud to refuse a challenge from the Lord of Minas Morgul. Is this who should have been ruling Gondor? No. It explicitly says in the appendices, ‘It may be that if the crown and the sceptre had been united, then the kingship would have been maintained and much evil averted.’ Fíriel should have been given the crown! Another point in my favor is that Aragorn was descended from Fíriel, the rightful line. It says, ‘Arvedui did not press his claim; for he had neither the power nor the will to oppose the choice of the Dúnedain of Gondor; yet the claim was never forgotten by his descendants even when their kingship had passed away.’ That’s right! I fully believe that Aragorn reinstated the Númenorean law of succession when he became King, allowing for there to be Ruling Queens after his reign.)

But if there is not enough written about the Queens of Númenor and Gondor, there is even less about Dúnedain women who weren’t of royal blood. I love the idea that in later years, after the Númenoreans founded Gondor and Arnor, some of them would have become rangers alongside the male Dúnedain. Because why not? The fact that Númenor had Ruling Queens suggests that women could have had many of the same rights as men, so I see no reason why they couldn’t have done all the same things men did. I’d love to see more stories about them.

#asks #Dunedain #Numenor #Queens of Numenor #Firiel #thanks for the ask :) #I have THOUGHTS and OPINIONS about the whole Earnil-Firiel succession crisis #my writing #it was only a matter of time before I went on a Firiel rant

[thekingofwinterblog]

The Sad, Sad Tale of The Druedain.

Amongst Tolkien's many, many Human peoples, the Druedain might be the saddest in my opinion.

Both for their current situation, their history that led to them to this point, their very real and tragic real life inspirations, and the way everyone still alive, Drunedain, Numenorean, and everyone else has forgotten their true history and it's signifigance.

The Druedain's origins go back to the First age, where they(or the ones of them who wandered west into beleriand at least)were one of the Human people who fought against Morogth on behalf of the Valar, and upon the war's conclusion, they like all the rest of these Humans were given the name Edain, and many wonderous gifts.

Long life, massive size and strength compared to regular folk, and an island paridise kingdom to live in.

They called this land Numenor, named Elros, son of Earendil as their first king, and settled their new home, and so, these disparate and formerly different men of many origins joined together and mixed, becoming the Numenoreans.

And the Dru who joined them became the Druedain, one of the founding people of Numenor.

We don't know how much the Druedain intermarried with the rest(being the only ones that were visually distinct from the rest by the end) but given they and other men intermarried already in the first age(Earendil and all his descendants have Dru blood in their veins for examole), it's rather certain that enough did that by the time Numenor fell, most if maybe not all had at least one Druedain ancestor.

Whatever the case of that may be, both in Arnor and Gondor alike, the legacy of the Druedain(The great hunters, scouts and trackers of the Numenoreans) live on in the form of the rangers of North and south, both groip with incredible skill in all related to stealth, wilderness survival and hunting.

The skills of the wild that Aragorn displays was not learned just from personal experience. It, and the skills of all of rest of Dunedain, north and south were a distant, distant descandants of the Druedain's far greater, passed down through the ages until finally it ended up here, at the end of the third age.

Humanity is in truth, all one people, not many. They were split apart by unnatural means, and it is when Men combine their strength rather than let differences divide them, that they are truly strong.

But divided they were, for when the Numenoreans made contact with the outside world anew, after countless years of iaolation, the Druedain foresaw that their brethren would eventually fall to darkness, and so as they grew darker and darker, the Druedain began to sail back to Middle Earth, quietly, and rejoining the rest of the Dru, who had not left middle earth for Numenor.

And here we get into a usually overlooked tragedy, for during the dark years, when Sauron worked in Middle Earth, one of the people who opposed him and his were the Dru, now forever renamed the Druedain.

The image most fans have of Druedain was Tolkien obviously drawing inspiration from various primitive, tribal societies that Europeans encountered across the world during the age of exploration and colonization.

But that's not actually true, for the Druedain were inspired by two things, the first being the real life Woses, the mythical wild men of Europe's still untamed wilderness in medieval times.

But the second was the now forgotten native peoples of Europe, who nobody remembers anymore. And there are a lot of those, and most don't care to remember them any more.

For all the minorities of Europe who survived up to this day, many, many, many more were snuffed out forever by Europe's many waves of immigration and conquest, and nobody remembers them anymore, their culture forgotten, their languages dead, and whatever they made torn down and replaced by those who took their lands from them.

And so it is with the Druedain. For the state we see them in now, is not their "Natural" state so to say.

For the Druedain were also the true heirs of Numenor, as much as the Gondorians and the Arnorians ever were, and when they rejoined their distant kin, they helped them create a great and powerfull society, capable of raising massive and expertedly carved stone statues all across the lands that would one day become Rohan.

These are all that remains of their people's golden age, for these men who fought Sauron and his forces during the Dark years, were in turn conquered by another people who served sauron, and in turn took their lands from them, and built over their homes, and claimed rulership over these lands.

The ancestors of the oathbreakers of Dunharrow, drove the druedain into the hills and forests, where they were forced to live on nothing but hunting, and there they slowly forgot their roots, and were forgotten by all others.

Knowing all of this, it completely changes a lot of one's understanding of this People's oath to Isildur, and their ultimate rejection of it.

"Thou shalt be the last king, and if the west prove mightier than thy Black Master, this curse I lay upon thee and thy folk; to rest never until your oath is fulfilled. For this war will last through years uncounted, and you shall be summoned once again ere the end."

And such was the power of this oath, that upon breaking it, it destroyed their very spirit, and they fled and they hid in the mountains and dwindled and became fewer and fewer, and as the Druedain, they lost their homes, but not to sword, but their own cowardice and the gruesome power they had brought down upon themselves.

It's a very good tale, but when you know the background of all men, it becomes intimately intertwined with Tolkien's themes.

For what Isildur asked the mountain men, was to uphold their oath to fight sauron, and by doing so, earn redemption for their previous acts and crimes they did under his name.

And they refused to repent for their wicked ways and deeds and redeem themselves, and so they were cursed and destroyed... By a kinsmen of the people who's land they took by might and evil deeds.

There is something remarkably fitting about that.

However, justice did not heal the Druedain's wounds, for they did not come forth to join Elendil and Gil-Galad to fight sauron, as their ancestors had against Morgoth.

Instead they hid in their forest and hills, until such a time that they would be called upon once more, NOT by their kin, but a people who they had a personal and very real grievance with the Rohirrim.

For the Rohirrim became the stewards of their former lands after many other came and went, and they did not have a good relationship with the Druedain eitger, mistaking them for beasts or monsters, and turn hunting them...

But in the end, despite this, these two were able to make peace, and common cause, and bury the hatched. For though not direct kin as they were with the Gondorians, they were still both Human beings, they both fought evil, and by doing so, they both managed to survive and see another day and Age of peace and hope.

The tale of the Druedain is one of eternal sadness, but withouth hope. But it is a harsh reminder that important things, and people ARE forgotten. Good people can, and have been defeated, and evil folk can and have taken that which rightfully was theirs.

It's a bittersweet ending, like most things in the Legendarium.

#druedain #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien's legendarium #meta #numenoreans #edain #numenor #men of dunharrow #oathbreakers #rohan #rohirrim

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 1, chapter 0.5 - the Prologue

Concerning Hobbits:

Hobbits' stealth is not magical

Not getting into the old POC hobbits debate. I would have imagined "browner of skin" to mean more like some Romani, for example, than full on Afro-American, but I really don't mind tbh.

Obviously, the "fairer of skin and hair" Fallohides being the bolder, more adventurous and prone to leading the others is a little off, but I'm not getting into that either.

The fascinating hobbit bowmen supposedly sent to the last battle of the kings of Arnor...

Looking into the appendices... the Shire is significantly older than Rohan tbh.

"They forgot or ignored what little they had ever known of the Guardians"... and here comes one of the most mysterious sentences in the book. What does "Guardians" signify? I might have read it to mean "Guardians of the World" i.e. Valar, but that seems to presume a very high meaning...? But they certainly seem to know nothing about the Valar (except for Bilbo and Frodo, but that's obvious). It's followed by "and of the labours of those that made possible the long peace of the Shire" so maybe the Dúnedain? the Rangers? But that doesn't really fit...

🤔🤔🤔

"They were, perhaps, so unwearyingly fond of good things not least because they could, when put to it, do without them"

Michel Delving, not Hobbiton is the chief town of the Shire - good to know.

That Hobbits may have learnt the craft of building directly from Elves...! I need to know more!

"They liked to have books filled with things that they already knew, set our fair and square with no contradictions" xd

Concerning Pipe-weed:

Not weed. Naught more need be said except that Tolkien visibly liked his pipe, hah.

Of the Ordering of the Shire:

"There were many reports and complaints of strange persons and creatures prowling about the borders... the first sign that all was not quite as it should be, and always had been except on tales and legends of long ago."

Of the Finding of the Ring:

A recap of the preceding book, neat!

What "Authorities"? Who differ whether Bilbo was playing fair with Gollum? What Riddle-game Authorities??

Note on the Shire Records:

Bilbo's "Translations from the Elvish" having three volumes??! A three-volume Silmarillion?? Why can't we have it 😭?

Obviously Tolkien spoils the ending already hah, but I don't mind at all. The last sentence is sad though...

#LotR reread #lotr #original post #the professor's mythopoeia

[incomingalbatross]

Okay. Okay. You know how monasteries used to be the safe, hospitable places where travelers could stop and stay the night for free, when necessary? I think maybe in Arnor that cultural niche should be taken over by Hobbits.

Maybe sometime in the Fourth Age, as the roads become safer and the North more settled and commerce expands, Aragorn or one of his successors sees that there’s a lack of accommodation on the roads. And at the same time, more Hobbits than ever before (which still isn’t that many, of course) start desiring to leave the Shire, strike out, and do something new... They don’t know what, but something, and something with purpose to it. (Particularly Tooks and Brandybucks and Gardners and Fairbairns, of course, but not exclusively.)

And the King looks at his Small Folk, and looks at his roads, and has an idea. And he makes a suggestion, and writes a charter out for those who want it...

And little groups of Hobbits, friends or couples or even families, go out along the Road until they find a place that strikes them as good and livable. And they dig holes, and till fields, and strike deep roots; and they carry out their duty in the King’s service to give hospitality to any travelers who pass their way, free and safe. And the roads do become safer, as lodging becomes more common and not a rare or precarious thing. Some Hobbits leave these little settlements to return to the Shire, but some new ones come out in their stead, or those who have gone back return with spouses, and it keeps thriving.

As a side-effect, these settlements become the best-known places where Men and others can interact with the Halflings, as the Shire is closed to Big Folk. Guests grow fond of their hosts and the hospitality they find with them—Rangers, especially, love them, and keep watchful eyes upon the safety of the settlements, so that any evil that threatens them faces not only the stubbornness of Hobbits but the wrath of the King’s Dunedain, and also of all decent folk who travel the Road. For the settlements hold welcome, and laughter, and good food, and peace, for everyone in their shelter.

Because these are hobbit-holes, and that means comfort.

(...Or, to circle around to a different blend of fantasy and monasticism and put this whole idea more succinctly: Redwall, but make it hobbits.)

#tolkien #hobbits

[theworldsoftolkein]

Chieftains of the Dunedain - by enanoakd

The Chieftains of the Dúnedain were the hereditary rulers of the Rangers of the North.

The title was created following the final destruction of Arthedain in T.A. 1974 by the Witch-king of Angmar. The heir to the throne of Arthedain, Aranarth son of Arvedui, in T.A. 1976 chose not to claim the kingship and instead ruled the remnants of his people as Chieftain.

They were descendants of Isildur through the kings of Arthedain and Anárion through Fíriel; as such they regarded themselves as the legitimate heirs to both Arnor and Gondor. The Chieftains were raised in Rivendell, where the heirlooms of the House of Isildur, were also kept.

#tolkien legendarium #middle earth #the lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #dunedain #rangers of the north #aragorn #isildur #arthedain

[aspenrockymountainhigh]

Aragorn II, son of Arathorn II and Gilraen, also known as Elessar and Strider, was the 16th and last Chieftain of the Dúnedain of the North; later crowned King Elessar Telcontar (March 1, 2931 - FO 120 or SR 1541), the 26th King of Arnor, 35th King of Gondor and first High King of Gondor and Arnor since the short reign of Isildur. He was a great Ranger and warrior, and as Isildur's heir he bore the shards of Narsil, reforged and renamed Andúril, Flame of the West, in the War of the Ring.

#aragorn #rotk #lotr

[catz4ever]

Thranduil Fanfiction

"Amongst Starlight"

Chapter One: "Arnor"

It's finally here! A few things:

-The main character is NOT Aragorn's mother, she is named after her.

-My elvish translation is a little shaky as this is my first fic using the language.

-Thranduil is officially present in chapter two, so he's coming, I promise. This is just an introductory chapter!

-I welcome all suggestions and discussion, so please feel free to comment below or send me a message! I hope you like it!

*if you would like to be tagged in future updates on this fic please let me know! I tagged a few of you below who already notified me*

*AO3 is giving me some trouble so it's not posted on my account yet but this is the rough copy*

@coopsgirl @tigereyesf @warriormirkwood

--------

In the Northeastern plains in the forests of Eriador lay the remnants of the ancient Kingdom of Arnor. Since the fall of Numenor, many tribes of its descendents hid themselves in the wilderness. Long had they avoided the orcs who patrolled their lands, living in peace while keeping their people safe. Rumors had emerged of a young prince, the son of one Arathorn, who had survived an orc raid and named the heir of Elendil. His true identity was hidden from many say for those who were close to the late chieftain of the north and the elves who kept him safe. In Rivendell he secretly dwelled under the name Estel and thrived under the care of the house of Elrond. The remaining men were called rangers by many in Middle-Earth and were rarely seen. They lived scattered across the north and  concealed by the many woods and hills available to them.

 Just east of the old ruins of Fornost lived a small group of Dunedain. They were a simple and humble people but kept mainly to themselves, avoiding contact with outsiders; making their home at the foot of the weather hills as a protective measure. Their chieftain was Talion and he ensured the safety and prosperity of his people. Deep in the woods of his realm is where our story begins.

The sun rose over the horizon in the early hours of the morning, the evening's dew still coating the ground. In the distance, the quick pounding of hooves could be heard as two horses raced through the winding trails of the forest floor, each with a rider on their back. One of the horsemen was a young woman, her auburn curls danced playfully along her back, shining like fire in the rays of the morning sunrise. She was clad in a deep green tunic and matching trousers, with brown boots laced up to her knees. She stood up in her stirrups and whistled, pushing her steed to a faster gallop. Her horse was a beautiful dark grey mare, a hand or so taller than her companion's mount who was only a few feet behind, trying to keep pace with her.

 She kept glancing back at him and laughing at the hilarity of her lead. The young man behind her was older but similar in appearance, and taller. He did his best to encourage his horse to shorten the distance between them, but to no avail. As they continued to race through the woods, a white falcon soared above the treeline, following them closely. Around his ankles were a pair of jesses, woven lengths of leather meant to allow his handler to secure him when perched. His pale feathers danced as the breeze in the skyline passed by, and he let out an excited screech as he watched the mounted competition below him. The two riders sped through the valley and they ran into an opening where the river met a beautiful meadow. Once the woman crossed the water to the other bank, she pulled back on the reins, easing her horse into a gentle trot. Moments later, her companion crossed the stream and caught up with them, matching his steed's pace with hers. She glanced over at him and laughed, a proud smirk on her lips. 

"It appears I have won, dear cousin. So you must uphold our terms," she teased. He shook his head in disapproval but smiled back at her. 

"I'd hardly count this as a fair victory given you had a ridiculous head start," he mocked. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. 

"It's not my fault that you didn't secure your saddle girth properly," she replied. 

"You could have waited…" he said. 

"Indeed I could have…but where's the fun in that?" she said back, chuckling along with him, "Or would you rather sort this out with a rematch if sorts?"

"Perhaps a sparring match would settle the scale… You win, I'll give you the information you want. But if I best you, you'll have to clean my saddle and tack for a week," he replied. She gave him a mischievous grin and dismounted, pulling a broadsword from a sheath at her side.

"Very well, but we both know who is more skilled with the blade," she teased and began to circle him, the sharp point of her sword pointed in his direction. He brandished his weapon and twirled it quickly in his hand, finishing his display with his elbow raised to his shoulder, blade at the ready. 

"Come then, Gilraen, let's see these superior skills of yours…," he mocked, motioning with his hand to step forward. She tilted her head quickly to catch him off guard, then lunged at him, catching his blade against hers. He parried her blow and held her there, pressing the steel of their weapons together so she could not move. He slowly slid the edge of his blade up hers until it barely touched the cross guard. 

"You'll have to do better than that…," he said, smirking at her. She pushed him off and stepped backwards, holding her sword's blade so the flat end was balanced on the back of her other hand. Gilraen was swift and impulsive with her blows, while her cousin favored a more defensive stance. For several minutes they took turns striking and parrying until one of them lost their footing. After blocking one of her swings, the young man tripped over his own feet and pummeled to the ground. His weapon fell from his hand and he lay flat on his back, her foot pressing on his chest. She playfully held her sword up to his neck. 

"Surrender…," she ordered, smiling down mischievously at him. He raised his hands in defeat and laughed.

"Alright….I yield…," he replied. She sheathed her sword and offered her hand to help him stand. Brushing himself off, he secured his own weapon back at his side and walked over to his horse. He pulled a small roll of folded parchment from his saddle bag. She ran over and tried grabbing it from his hands.

"Come on then, let me see it!" she pleaded as he dangled it above her head just out of reach. Before their race across the countryside, Eothyn had mentioned that he had received news from outside of their realm regarding a summoning. Where or whom the message had been sent from was not mentioned.  The agreement was he would share this information with her if she won. 

"Patience…this is an official parcel and I'd hate for it to be ruined," he said, handing it to her. Before opening it, Gilraen noticed a familiar insignia in the wax seal. A bright star in the middle encircled by an intricate pattern of vines twisted beautifully around the border. It was the family crest of the house of Elrond; the message had arrived from Rivendell. Her eyes lit up and she excitedly looked at her cousin.

"This is a summons from Lord Elrond!" she said happily as he nodded in response. Unfolding the paper, she began to read the letter to herself. "Lord Talion, I am pleased to inform you all arrangements have been officialized. I have been on speaking terms with the King and he has agreed to travel to Imladris. We request the presence of you and your family in the valley so we can proceed with our agreement as discussed.  In a few days time, I will send one of my sons to accompany you. I hope this letter finds you and your kin well. I look forward to your arrival. Elrond."

She looked quizzically at Eothyn, her eyebrows twisted with confusion. To her surprise, he seemed ashamed of the news and pressed his lips together nervously.

"What is this then? What arrangements is he talking about?....Eothyn?" she asked, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this…but there's something you should know," he replied shyly. 

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The agreement in question is marriage," he explained to her. 

"And why aren't you supposed to tell me this?" she demanded. 

"You have been chosen by Elrond and my father to partake in this arrangement," he said. 

"Me?!" she screamed, "and you agreed with this? You're perfectly fine with me being handed off to some stiff nosed king?!"

"He's not just any King. He is the Elven King, Thranduil," he told her. 

"I suppose that makes it all better then," she shot back, raising her arms in disgust. 

"At least we have the opportunity to visit Rivendell again. Elrond is a dear friend and I know you've missed the beauty of Imladris more than any of us," he said, trying to calm her anger.  He tenderly placed his hand on her shoulder. She gave him a small smile but he could see tears gathering in her eyes. 

"Forgive me, I took my anger out on you…this is all so sudden and unexpected," she replied. 

"I know…which is why I wanted you to know ahead of time so you weren't caught completely unaware," he told her. She paused for a moment and looked tenderly at him.

"For that, you have my thanks," she said and hugged him tightly. As he held his cousin there, the silence of the morning was broken by the mellow call of a small elven horn. She looked up at him and grinned cheek to cheek. 

"They're here!" she shouted happily. Reaching for a small whistle in her pocket, she put it to her lips and let out a pattern of high pitched tones. In the skies above, a white speck began to grow into the shape of the falcon who had been following them. He screeched happily and she held out her arm, protected by a thick bracer made of leather, allowing him to land gracefully.  Taking a dried strip of squirrel jerky from her saddle, she gave it to her falcon as a reward. She carefully stroked his back feathers with a sincere fondness. 

"Shall we greet our friends from Rivendell, Astar?" she asked the falcon. He bobbed his head and neck quickly and chirped in agreement. Astar perched himself on her shoulder as she mounted her steed. Eothyn readied himself and his horse for the inevitable race home.  She glanced over at her cousin with a mischievous grin while he wasn't looking and positioned her horse next to his. Carefully, she undid the buckle of his saddle girth as he was focusing on securing his belt and faced in the opposite direction. 

"Race you back?..." she teased while winking at him.  

"Only if we both start at the same time, and no cheating," he said back to her sternly. 

"I wouldn't dream of it!" she lied. Coaxing Astar back onto her arm, she lifted her arm up, and he took off into the blue sky above. Her cousin placed his foot in one of the stirrups and hoisted himself onto the saddle. 

"On my mark then," said Eothyn. 

"Don't trust me, do you?" she asked, mockingly.

"Not for a second," he teased back, "three, two,...one!"

And with that, both horses took off as their riders squeezed their sides. Within a few feet of a full gallop however, Eothyn's saddle loosened and snapped off, causing him to fall off of his horse and into the grass of the meadow. 

"You cheater!!!," he yelled after her as she galloped ahead. 

"Never turn your back on an opponent, cousin!" she yelled back, laughing as she continued down the trail. Minutes later she entered the border of the forest and the small village of theirs came into view. Careful to watch for any children playing in the square, she made her way to the great hall, where her uncle Talion was waiting to greet them. Their guests had arrived just as she did and the villagers whispered with excitement as the elves dismounted. Glancing back behind her, she saw Eothyn leading his horse while carrying his saddle and smiled. 

The commander of the company had long dark hair and grey eyes. He was clad in silver silk that draped over a beautiful suit of armor that was both light and sturdy. Indeed this was one of the sons of Lord Elrond, but it was not clear which one he was until the hood of his cloak was removed. There was a small scar on his left cheek that led to his ear. It was a battle wound from orcs when he and his brother rescued their mother from her torment. Before he could even reach Talion to greet him, she ran forward and jumped into his arms, embracing the young elf.

"Elrohir!!!! Mae Govannen, Hîr nìn! (Well-met/welcome, my Lord!)" she exclaimed joyfully. Elrohir lifted her off the ground and laughed happily in response to her greeting. 

"Mae Govannen, mellon nìn! Le hannon! (Greetings my friend! I thank you!)" he said back, squeezing her gently and ruffling her hair. Setting her down he turned to Talion, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Talion did the same to his elven friend and they nodded, smiling happily. 

"Elrohir, Mae Govannen, Gi nathlam hí! ( You are welcome here!)", Said Talion, nudging the elf's shoulder. 

"Mae Govannen, Le Fael (thank you/you are generous)," said Elrohir.

"Where is Elladan?" asked Gilraen. He smiled in her direction and began untacking his horse. 

"My father has sent him to Mirkwood to accompany the King on the long road to Rivendell," he explained, "do not fret, he will be there for the festivities."

"Tolo ar nin (come with me), we have much to discuss before our departure!" Said Talion. Eothyn handed Gilraen his horse's reins and followed his father and their elven guests into the great hall. Before she could ask if she could join, the doors closed behind them. She huffed with frustration and blew into her small whistle to beckon Astar. Within seconds, the small falcon found his way to her arm and landed gracefully.  He waddled up to her shoulder and perched on the leather padding, nudging her for a reward. She laughed and reached into her saddle bag for the dried meat and gave it to him. Stroking his wings, she looked back at the closed doors, knowing the conversation was about her future. 

"I think it's perfectly indecent to plan a marriage without one's consent," she told him. Her falcon let out a small series of soft screeches which she interpreted as an agreement. 

"You're lucky you do not have to worry about such things, Mellon nìn (my friend)," she told him, walking her steed and her cousin's back to the stable. 

"I wonder what he's like…this elven king? From the little I have heard about him, he sounds callus and cold," she said, "what I don't understand, is why me? Why did he choose me?"

Astar tilted his head with curiosity as if he was just as stumped as she was. She took the horses into their stalls and secured them before safely putting the saddles back in the tack cellar. Grabbing a wooden bucket, she scooped a large portion of oats and grain and began feeding the horses their breakfast. A choir of hungry and excited whinnies echoed throughout the stable as she began to fill their feeding troughs. When she had finished, she took a broom and swept the alleyway, removing the dirt and stray pieces of hay from the floor. 

A couple of hours later, Eothyn walked into the stable and motioned for her to follow him. Before she entered the great hall, Astar leapt off of her shoulder and flew over to a fence post to perch. She entered to find the elves and her uncle gathered around a large table in the center of the room. 

"Gilraen. We apologize for the secrecy but we wanted to make sure all was in place before telling you," said Talion, pulling out a chair for her to sit in.

"Tell me what? The news of my apparent betrothal to the elven king?" she asked snidely. Eothyn immediately blushed and looked away from his father. 

"How did you…?" he asked, his eyebrows twisted in confusion. 

"Eothyn told me already," she shot back. 

"Of course he did," he replied angrily, glancing over at his son, "that summons was confidential." 

"She was going to find out either way," said her cousin. Talion gave him a cold and piercing side glance.

"That will be enough from you, boy," he said, nodding towards a chair, "sit please and kindly remain silent for the rest of this discussion." 

Eothyn did as his father asked him, making a point to slam the chair on the ground before sitting. Gilraen held in her laughter as best as she could, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Elrohir and the other elves glanced around awkwardly, taking care not to get involved in the conflict. Talion cleared his throat and composed himself before speaking again.

"Many apologies, gentlemen. I believe Lord Feren has an official statement from the elven king to deliver before we begin with the proceedings," said Talion, gesturing to an elf across the table. Gilraen did not recognize him and noticed he was wearing duller tones than the elves who had come from Rivendell. His hair was almost as red as her own, but it was straight and fell over his shoulders with a neat elegance. He seemed nervous and a bit fidgety in the company of his kin, but stood and spoke with authority. He bowed in the direction of Talion and then Gilraen. 

"My Lord,....my lady…, indeed I do. If you will allow me to do so, I will read it aloud," he replied, unrolling a sealed scroll. Talion nodded in approval and motioned for him to continue. Before he could begin, Gilraen interrupted the silence with her disapproval. 

"If this is an official statement of the king's intent to marry, should he not deliver it himself?" she asked sarcastically. Feren swallowed hard and looked over at her uncle, setting the parchment back on the table. 

"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a tone of shock. 

"He has chosen me as his wife, has he not?" she replied.

"Gilraen…a great honor has been bestowed upon our house. You will address the king's council with respect," said Talion. 

"It's alright, Talion, let her speak,"said Feren,"you have been chosen, my lady yes."

"Does he not want to meet his bride in person?  Or is he too busy to bother with pleasantries?" she asked with a scowl on her face. 

"Many apologies my lady, but the king thought it best to conduct the personal introductions in Rivendell," said Feren. 

"Did he?" she asked, mockingly.

"He wanted to ensure everything was conducted properly under Lord Elrond's guidance," he replied sternly, "now if you please, I would like to get back to reading this so we can continue with all the proceedings."

"Very well…," she said.  

She sat there crossing her arms, annoyed and partially embarrassed for the way she had spoken, but nodded in agreement. 

"Thranduil Oropherion, King of Mirkwood and Lord of the woodland realm, thanks you for accepting his offer of marriage. By accepting these nuptials, the following will be granted to you and your kin: you will be given the title queen of Mirkwood and thus have free reign of the forest and the surrounding realm of the Elven kingdom. You will leave behind your home in Arnor and take permanent residence in the woodland realm. The remaining kin left behind will be granted an annual sum of gold to insure their security and survival. All Gilraen's living expenses and personal needs will be funded in full. No family dowry is expected for payment, and will not be required for Gilraen's agreement. The king wishes you well and looks forward to meeting you once you arrive in Imladris," said Feren, rolling up the scroll. 

"That is quite a generous gesture is it not, Gilraen?" Talion asked, glancing over at his niece. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and shrugged. 

"If you say so…," she replied.

"Excellent! I believe we have an accord, Feren," said Talion reaching across the table to shake the elf's hand. Feren happily followed suit, sealing the young woman's fate when their hands met.  

"King Thranduil will be pleased. We should leave for Rivendell soon to make arrangements for the marriage," said Feren before sitting down. Elrohir then stood from his seat, and addressed the room.

"My company and I will be happy to lead your family safely to Imladris, Lord Talion," said the young elf. 

"We would be most grateful. I will see to it that the lady and my family are packed and ready to leave at first light," Talion replied happily. The company of elves stood along with their leader and bowed reverently at Gilraen and her family. She and the rest of the Dunedain present stood in response and bowed as well. 

"Abarad (until tomorrow)," said Elrohir before leaving the hall. Once the elves had left, Talion slammed his fist down on the table, making Eothyn and Gilraen jump. 

"What on earth was that for??!!!" he yelled at Gilraen. 

"What?!" she said back.

"Your behavior in that council was completely out of line!" he screamed. 

"My behavior?! And I suppose planning an arranged marriage behind my back is perfectly acceptable!!" she replied angrily. 

"You are of age and it is time for you to step up and accept your duty as a woman in this household," he said sternly to her. 

"Oh, Is it also my duty to accept any proposal blindly just because my choices are made for me!?"

"I promised your father I would look after you and ensure your future is taken care of. This is what he would want for you!"

"DON'T YOU DARE ASSUME WHAT MY FATHER WOULD WANT!" she screamed, pushing her chair to the floor," he would allow me to speak for myself and choose my own path!"

"He is NOT here, Gilraen. I am your guardian and you will do as you are told!" yelled Talion. She walked up to her uncle until their noses were nearly touching. Her face was red and tears began to pool in her eyes. Her lips trembled as she spoke, but the fire in her eyes remained. 

"He would be ashamed of you…" she said in an aggressive whisper, pain in her voice. Talion could not speak, and lowered his head in silence, her words like an icy dagger in his heart. She began to weep and left the hall, her cheeks soaked with salty streams of tears. When she had slammed the door behind her, Eothyn touched his father's shoulder and smiled.

"Let me talk to her. She just needs time," he said to Talion. His father nodded as he watched his son chase after Gilraen. He shook his head and exhaled with frustration. 

"What am I going to do with her, brother? Please give me patience," he spoke to the empty room, as if his deceased sibling was still there. 

#lee pace #king thranduil #amongst starlight #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil oropherion #king of carven wood and stone #king of mirkwood

[tolkien-feels]

Do you think Aragorn had a second sword that he used? Because I just can't imagine Aragorn (and Arathorn, and Arador, etc. etc. etc.) just carrying around a broken sword and not ALSO one that they can use to fight with. Like they carry the broken one because Symbolism(tm), but surely they also carried one that they could actually fight with.

Also what did Aragorn do when he was Thorongil? Did he conveniently leave the Very Recognizable Legendary Sword back in Arnor (or Rivendell)? Or did Denethor know who he was because Aragorn was Not Being Subtle and was fighting with a broken sword that looked Extremely Familiar.

Please give me headcanons. because I want all the sword headcanons

Randomly specific headcanons my beloved!!

I do think Aragorn would carry additional weapons, yes. (More on which ones in a moment.) But I don't headcanon he (or any of his ancestors) would have a sword in the way that, say, Bilbo has Sting, or Gandalf has Glamdring. He has weapons. Well-made weapons, yes, but nothing that he would consider to be His Thing. They're tools. He'll take whatever does the job well and part with it when it's time to.

One sword I headcanon Aragorn does not have is Arathorn's. I headcanon Gilraen thought taking his sword would be foolish, so she had him buried with it. She's not sentimental. So growing up, Estel would use whatever happened to be available, simply because he was told to learn how to do well with unfamiliar weapons - swords and others - because that is a useful skill to have. As Aragorn, though, he was given the choice to anything Elrond could give him (including the choice to have something new forged - which oh so many elves were hoping he would pick!), and he basically was like "I already have a sword" in the dramatic way Aragorn does, and Elrond was like "That is very honorable, I'm so proud, but if you don't take other weapons with you I will ground you."

So I headcanon Aragorn is basically very flexible. He has a long knife and a short bow on him most of the time because you never know when you'll need to hunt in order to not uh, starve. But carrying two swords at once is very conspicuous, and even if it wasn't, it's not always what he needs. Sometimes he has a longbow, or an axe, or a dagger, or Another, Better Knife. Even if he has a sword, it can be anything from an elvish blade that can protect him even on Mordor's doorstep, to the most generic sword he can find so he can blend in where he's going. I would not be surprised if on many occasions, Elrond had Elladan and Elrohir show up out of nowhere to give Aragorn The Right Weapon, or if Aragorn exchanged whatever he had on him with another Ranger.

I also have an extremely random headcanon that Aragorn carries Narsil only west of Rivendell. This means that he wouldn't have it on him when he was Thorongil, which solves a problem. Narsil returns to Gondor when Elfstone shows up, is what I'm saying.

Edit: I accidentally posted it without one last thing lol I was gonna say that the knife I headcanon Aragorn has on him is Elrond's own, and it's the closest thing to an heirloom kind of weapon he has other than Narsil, except it's less about bloodlines and more sentimental value. So he carries it even when it makes no sense for his current disguise, but that's alright because it's an easy enough weapon to conceal.

[hallothere]

16 for bronagir 👀

16. Wish

The Last Bridge felt exposed, vulnerable in every way he'd been taught to quantify. He supposed it must've been the might of Arnor or Cardolan or even Rhudaur of old that kept brigands and snipers from assailing it. Perhaps now it was... perhaps not the threat, but the power of Elrond of Rivendell that kept the passage safe.

The Trollshaws were a wild place. Untamed somewhat- and unforgotten by most- but wild in the way of dangers and secrets. There were many a tale that had origins in this place. Trolls, naturally, but other strange creatures as well haunted the fireside stories of minstrels and captains alike. Culang liked to spin yarns. He had quite a few to weave ere Bronagir set out on his journey.

Mudfoot was a stout horse and a staunch companion. His origins were humble in name and lineage, but he was a good horse and Bronagir would accept to slight against him. Many a time his own mother had named him Mud-foot in his youth for tracking 'all strains of the earth' through her house. Now, when given a brown horse with browner socks, Bronagir knew what he ought to do.

"I name him Mudfoot," he said to Nat, "so that my mother will be forced to choose another epithet, lest she confuse us."

Yet his heart was filled in melancholy; for Mudfoot meant travel, and travel what his heart desired least.

He left behind his post (though not without leave, and with a mission besides) and friends, and some... Tinnudir had grown dear to him. It might not be very Ranger-like of him, but he felt he belonged in a place called Home. A place he could dwell, yes, but defend also. A place he could nurture. Like many Rangers before him, his heart ached for the days of Kings. The days of purpose bestowed by hand and with aim, not mantle taken up in memory and mourning.

He and Mudfoot found the signs and the trail that would take them south. Calenglad had messages, and in his fey mood sent Bronagir with them. Wroth was his captain and urgent was his charge.

"Why not send Ringlor the swift...?" He mused, mostly to himself though Mudfoot shook out his mane.

On the southern road, he passed the camp at Gaerond and his thoughts wandered to Esteldin, to his mother and sister who would like as anything be headed this way next. The North Downs grew dangerous, as did much of the North.

And yet his heart did not ache for Esteldin. It was his only wish, in fact, to return to the isle on the lake and to sink his cares into the waters his people loved.

#writing tag #bronagir #saga of a babyranger #he goes on a brief externship to mitheithel and then runs straight home #thank you!!! aaaaaaaaa #fic tag

[warsrage]

i haven’t cursed anyone in years . ( @ aragorn lolll )

THE RANGER STANDS NEARLY MOTIONLESS BEFORE HER, EXPERIENCED HAND BALANCED CAREFULLY ON THE POMMEL OF HIS LONGSWORD. something about her very presence seems to bring the forest to its knees ; even the birds in the trees have gone strangely silent and aragorn cannot decipher whether it's meant as a sign of respect or fear. he, too, holds his breath along with the woods, along with the world. the hunter in him requires but a moment to know that he stands in the presence of a great and terrible power, one that he may be unable to contend with. with every fell step comes an opportunity to prove wrong the prophecies passed down the lineage he never asked for. estel, they'd called him in the house of elrond. hope. but such power - such ancient magic - as is contained in her very aura would likely pay no mind to the burden of purpose.

there is a fatigue that accompanies purpose, even in the practice of avoiding it, a practice in which strider has engaged for years of his improbably long life. since childhood, the same questions have haunted him : what makes a king? is it strictly the misfortune of one's lineage? can any man rule a kingdom by name alone? what wisdom is there in that? or shall kings be crowned by deed? and if so, by what measure could aragorn, son of arathorn, even be found worthy? in the wilds, it matters not ; the remaining vestiges of the dúnedain care far more for the novelty of survival than the reunification of arnor to its southern brother. here in the wilds, he is as much lone wolf as he is chieftain, as near to a beast as any king. truth be told, he prefers it that way. always, a voice in his ear reminds him that he cannot outrun time - but even so, he disguises himself, leans into monikers as others offer them, omits the truth of his birth as often as he can manage.

❝ how many years, I wonder? ❞ he answers cautiously, chin tilted upward as he surveys her, wondering if his eyes betray him or if the air around her truly shimmers. stories and warnings plague these woods, superstitions which have become commonplace in such areas of the world. ( even he himself must be the subject of one or two by now. ) if she is in fact a creature to ignite such fear in the common folk, then surely there is sense in hiding away here. but what makes a witch? is it much the same as being deemed a king? ❝ enough to make any difference to you? even to me? ❞ the ranger tilts his head just slightly, examining her far more with curiosity than fear. ❝ what brings you so far into the wilds, my lady? ❞ are you hunted, or are you the hunter?

#zmeydeva #ic : aragorn. #prompt : aragorn. #this is gonna be gourmet i feel it in my jellies

[anarchotolkienist]

The other way is of course to really lean in to the stupid game-y nature of it all and say like, "post apocalyptic survival and badebuilding game set just after the fall of Arnor, playing as the people who wound up establishing the Rangers" or something. That's funny as an idea but I think would fall into the trap of "not doing anything interesting with a very particular setting"

[watupmydudes]

Of Isildur and Faramir

Now this might just be me wanting two of my favorite characters to parallel each other, but I really think that Isildur and Faramir are quite similar. The first thing that comes to mind is that they both lost their father and brother during an Age ending war, but I think that it goes deeper than that.

I mean, they are both heavily associated with the moon. Isildur’s name means servant of the moon and his fortress is called Minas Ithil. Then you have Faramir who is a ranger of Ithilien and later its’ prince. This is on top of Faramir’s defining character moments, such a rejecting the ring and sparing Gollum, take place at night and he learns about Boromir’s death at night as well. The cloak that he gives Eowyn and symbolizes his love for her looks like a night sky. With how connected the moon is to night itself, it is clear that his connection to night is also the same connection to the moon that Isildur has.

Along with this, they are both supporters of kings. Neither the Lords of Andunie nor the stewards are meant to be kings of their own right, but rather a part of a line descended from the line of kings. They are both, however, thrown into a time period where they need to more than that and take it in stride. Isildur does it by saving a fruit from Nimloth and Faramir does it by gaining knowledge by learning from Gandalf. They then both continue to fulfill their roles as supporters even after their respective roles. Isildur takes the time to teach Menedil how to be king before going to Arnor where he himself would be king. Faramir readily gives up the title of ruling steward in order to support Aragorn’s claim to the throne. They both choose to ignore a chance for themselves to gain more power in order to support the rule of someone they care about. 

Then you have things such as Faramir dreaming of the great wave that Isilur escaped or the fact Ohtar and Beregond take on similar roles through their endless loyalty to their lords, but the real question is: what does this mean? 

Well, it is another example of how power is bad at the end of the day. Now, I could probably go on and on about the fall many monarchies throughout the history of Middle-Earth is a sign that monarchies and the power that they is bad, but this is not really about. It is about the fact that Isildur did not die until he did eventually head toward Arnor to claim a throne. Even though he had been king of both Gondor and Arnor previously, his focus during that time had been to train Menedil to be king. When he makes the decision to take power for himself, no matter what his reason, that is when falls using the One Rings - a hint of the corruption that would have grown inside him if he had made it to Arnor. Now contrast this with Faramir who does seek power, but is given it through Aragorn. He is able to live a long life with Eowyn because he is not someone who wishes for a throne of his own and he completely rejects the Ring. He is able to reject corruption itself - not because of his nature since he has the same nature as Isildur - because he does seek out power at all.        

#faramir #isildur #gonna also add that they're both trans #there is no world where either of them is cis #lotr #the silmarillion #tolkien

[pomgore]

Pom!!! What can you tell us about “the empty lands where no men are”? 👀💜

HOHOHO YOU HAVE RISEN TO THE CHALLENGE!

i can tell you it's a boromir lives amnesia fic where aragorn is so polyamorous he cries

a while ago i was fantasizing about like, the boromir-arwen side of the love triangle and decided i thought their dynamic could be incredible (two chivalrous courtly lovers who bond over their destiny-riddled third half) so i give arwen plenty of time in the spotlight in that fic as well

as for boromir and aragorn, they are as dramatic as ever

“There was- kingsfoil, that’s the name, kingsfoil in the arrow-wounds,” Boromir continued. “... I expect that was the work of the King. He was a ranger in the realm where Arnor once stood, isn’t that right? A ranger’s knowledge of medicine.”

“To use athalas on wounds is an elven remedy,” Arwen told him. “Before Aragorn was a ranger, he lived in Rivendell among elves for many years.”

Boromir watched Aragorn for a while. “I do not know why,” he said, “but that seems to explain some things about him.”

“Indeed,” Arwen agreed. “Continue about Lórien, please.”

i'm still not sure whether i'll finish this one as i've hit a tough spot in it, but i love the concept so much that i can't bear to delete it - boromir my babygirl for real

thank you sm for the ask btw! maybe i will send you one after i have a nap to recover from this wretched sickliness

#sent to me #the pom! signal #tfw all my non-tolkien mutuals see this and wonder how someone could ever ship boromir and aragorn #my powerful forces of will is how #lotr #lord of the rings #boromir #aragorn #arwen #she deserves a main tag too