#Aragorn calls for the Oathbreakers

[a-lonely-dunedain]

I am here from the quest objective! Ahhh yap to me about Tossdir! What's he about? What do you love about him? What type of situations do you like to put him in?

ok getting to this a bit late oops! (I tried to answer it earlier, had a bunch typed up, then my power went out and I lost the whole thing lmao)

Anyway yes!!! Tossdir!! my beloved silly little guy who's heart is so full of love for his friends and family that he might explode!! I created him as a joke character and had no intention for him to become a capital C Character™, let alone one this important, but here we are. His name is shrub man and I've almost gotten to the point where it sounds normal. I'm in too deep guys, send help.

This is just what happens when you get attached to the newest, tragic Ranger they just dropped and start thinking to yourself "Ok now what if he had a little brother? A little brother who adored him so so much and followed him into his self-imposed exile just in the small hope that he would come home with him? Or failing that just stay in exile with him forever because his big bro is that important to him? And Meneldir unsuccessfully tries to push him away because he believes that Tossdir would just be better off without him, he thinks so little of himself that he believes his presence in Tossdir's life will only make things worse, but only ends up hurting both of them more in the end?? But despite it all Tossdir stayed out of love??? and then Meneldir DIES saving Tossdir's life??? Making the ultimate sacrifice for him out of love but only leaving him utterly alone in the end???? would that be sad or what????"

And anyway the answer is: yes, it was very sad, and I'm never going to recover from this. the Unbreakable Bonds of Love™ sure do hurted don't they? and that was literally CHAPTER ONE of his story!!! there's just. there's so much more he has to deal with after that. Please he needs a break so badly (I say, not giving him a break).

And that's not even to mention his new weird and complicated relationship with the other Rangers now! He left just before he was old enough to be sworn in, so he was never branded as an oathbreaker like Meneldir was, but he also never technically became a Ranger in the first place, so can he really be considered one of them? He chose his loyalty to an oathbreaker over the rest of the Duendain, and while most agree it was an understandable choice (he was young and alone and Meneldir was pretty much the only family he had left, can anyone really blame him for following that misguided path? what else was he gonna do!), to others it might call his loyalty to the Dunedain into question...

He's literally just doing his best, he's trying SO hard because he feels like he has to "earn" his place among the Rangers. He won't wield his mother's sword or wear his father's star because those are both things that are deeply tied to his heritage, a heritage that he feels unworthy of on some level. Almost like Meneldir somehow passed his issues with this onto Tossdir or something, but instead of running away from that feeling of unworthiness like Meneldir did he is absolutely determined to do whatever it takes to fix it!! even if it kills him!!! (Eru's sake, somebody PLEASE get this boy a hug)

Anyway I think this is probably why he ends up forging such a deep bond with Golodir's Company after meeting them in Angmar. Here's a bunch of Rangers who left, explicitly against Aragorn's orders, to follow someone they were deeply loyal to and as a result stayed isolated from the rest of their kin for years! The Parallels! I'm eating my desk! Anyway it's getting too late for me to have coherent thoughts but did Tossdir adopt the Lost Company or did the Lost Company adopt him? the answer is yes. A sad ginger Ranger is something that can actually be so personal.

The only Situation I wanna put him in right now is a biiiig pile of blankets and pillows snuggled up with his dog and Ethedis and all his favorite snacks

[hallothere]

52 with Candaith?

52. Fake death/presumed dead

The Draig-lûth had started a rumor that Harndirion was haunted. It may as well be, after the outpouring of dead- all sorts, from shades to wights to things mortal eyes were never meant to gaze upon- and the upheaval at Ost Dunhoth. Even he had been aware of that change. The fortress- glowing, even under no moon- before going suddenly dark. Bird calls resumed shortly so all must be well in the wider world. But he could not go and check.

Candaith had been both prepared to die, and determined to live. Britou had not cut him so deeply as his Company believed. No, he was loath to remember that his planned fate was worse than that. The others had fled before he regained consciousness. It was equal parts the shock of the wound and the severity of it that drove him to the dirt, unmoving for so long. He could feel the shades gather 'round as he dragged himself hand over hand to the exit.

'Let him go' one had said 'the fun is just getting started'.

But what torments the shades of Oathbreakers devised for amusement Candaith shuddered to remember. He found Himeldir first, and thought he might well die there too.

Long, long after he had exhausted his tears and the sounds of the Dead had faded to whispers had Candaith picked up his head once more. He had not the strength to rescue Himeldir now, but he would return. There was nothing the Dead would do or think to do with one so like their own. It was the living they chose to torment.

Linnor had been hardest to bear. Candaith faltered again so soon in his worm's sojourn across the floor of the cavern and wailed where tears would not fall. He cursed the Dead once more over for this grievous harm, took up Linnor's star to bolster himself, and began the crawl again.

Calithil. Hodhon. He knew three more names were ready to greet him in the dark, the murky, bule-tinted gloom. At one point he was able to stop, to sob again as the picture came unbidden of a line sixty-long stretching from the mouth of the cave to their camp in the hills.

Candaith made it into grass and sunlight at mid-day of whichever day this was. He cared not for secrecy or safety. The Dead did not care if he perished under the sun, for they knew he would. Soon. He rolled himself behind the cover of one of the exterior stones and slept.

He awoke, at first, to the darkness of the cave and bunched between the bodies of his fallen kin. Then he saw the stars and the stone. Candaith needed more water if he wished to cry again. This time, out of the oppressive atmosphere cultivated by the Dead, he found he could stand. He nearly lost consciousness getting to his feet once more, but upright he found it was not as hard, and cursed the Dead again.

The grass on the hillside was tall, and he could drop into it easily enough if he needed to hide. Green-enough was his cloak even if it was stained with blood and dirt. Perhaps the irregularity of it would help shield him from prying eyes. It heartened him little that he did not see much of the crebain that had dogged their movements. Perhaps they had gone ahead. Perhaps there remained no movement for them to spy on.

He had haunted Harndirion ever since he found it empty. Empty, save one cache, and one note in Helchon's hand: For the journey home, may it serve you well and may your steps be lightened. He had his waterskin, and he had his cry. Precious little had been left, save for this, but enough for him to tell the numbers leaving were great. Great, and perhaps lighter only five than they had been in coming.

Candaith. Himeldir, Linnor, Calithil, Hodhon. Fallen in service of Aragorn on the Forsaken Road. Candaith set up a cairn with his feeble strength. He had found a hollow to hide in when cun annun came sniffing around. They knew his scent, surely, but he was up to high to be caught by them. He dressed his wound as best as he was able and slept heavily.

Without better treatment, his recovery was slow. But, Candaith had few options. He had seen the forces of the White Hand milling about the base of the hill, investigating the force that had gone through. He had been trapped up in his hollow for two days straight avoiding sight and capture. Then the half-orcs moved on. Then he was alone again.

He haunted Harndirion, and gazed ever at Lhanuch. A safety so near and yet so far. The open ground was too much to attempt alone and in such a condition. If he was not cut down by orcs or Draig-lûth, there were wargs to scent his injury and oxen to gore him. He stayed. He haunted Harndirion.

Until the day the dead poured out from the Forsaken Road. He had watched, helpless, petrified, as they surrounded a wagon. His shock increased when the wagon not only passed unharmed, but then stopped outside the very hole these shades had appeared from. He had a decent view from up here. There were figures going in. There were horses, and a wagon unattended.

This was his only chance.

Candaith had made the trip from that place of death in much poorer health than he was now, though he was still unsteady on his feet and his back pulled terribly. Sometimes it opened again and bled, and it was only the athelas in the cache that kept infection at bay. He felt the wound tear again, but this was his chance. He would either find help or death at the hands of these travelers.

He was close enough now. The riders were inside but oh- he knew that horse. He knew Erebrandir, and Glorengur. Candaith ran. He scurried up the path, tripped, and fell before the horses in an undignified heap. He'd startled them. Erebrandir reared back and gave his fiercest whinny.

And that was enough to pull Radanir from the cave.

He limped. He was covered in dirt, grime, and shed tears. He was alive. But his leg was weak, surely, for he fell into the road onto Candaith and hugged him soundly.

"Saeradan!" He cried, voice hoarse, "Saeradan I need you!"

Nothing ever brought Saeradan so quick as a kinsman in need and Radanir pulled the right string. Soon he was surrounded. The tears were joyful and grieving but fell without fear of interruption by the dead. Radanir apologized to his shoulder, over and over, lamenting ever leaving him in the hands of the Dead. Saeradan fetched the things his back truly needed.

"Never, brother, never." Candaith said, in response to the apology. "For had you stayed, and had I found a fifth body on that road, neither of us would be here in the daylight."

And they were not mended, but they were all much healed. And all the ghosts of Harndirion drove north.

[lilsoutherncuss]

Saw something recently about how Tolkien frames his heroes as doing the right things for the right reasons, even if they fail at their ultimate goal, even when everything seems hopeless. A kind of intrinsic goodness that has Frodo and Bilbo both choosing to save Gollum, that has Aragorn leading the charge against the Black Gates on no more than the *hope* that Frodo is making progress toward Mt. Doom. That has book!Faramir releasing Frodo and Sam and Gollum despite his father's desire, like Boromir's, for power to improve the fate of Gondor.

It contrasts sharply with a lot of popular modern fantasy where "good" men and women must compromise their integrity to achieve their goals, even when that goal is saving others from certain doom. GoT/ASoIaF loves to drag heroic characters into the mud with vile choices (Stannis (kinslaying), Jon Snow and Jaime (oathbreaking among other crimes) Daenerys (oathbreaking as well - what else can you call accepting money for something that will never be parted from you? - plus slaughtering people with dragonfire, fantasy weapon of mass destruction), Arya (doing whatever it takes to survive in her case means becoming an assassin), Sansa (who survives by pandering to power)) - or terrible deaths, if they persist in being noble and honorable (Ned, Robb).

Idk, the GoT approach is tired and I'm tired of it.

Dunno how to put it properly into words but lately I find myself thinking more about that particular innocence of fairy tales, for lack of better word. Where a traveller in the middle of a field comes across an old woman with a scythe who is very clearly Death, but he treats her as any other auntie from the village. Or meeting a strange green-skinned man by the lake and sharing your loaf of bread with him when he asks because even though he's clearly not human, your mother's last words before you left home were to be kind to everyone. Where the old man in the forest rewards you for your help with nothing but a dove feather, and when you accept even such a seemingly useless reward with gratitude, on your way home you learn that it's turned to solid gold. Where supernatural beings never harm a person directly and every action against humans is a test of character, and every supernatural punishment is the result of a person bringing on their own demise through their own actions they could have avoided had they changed their ways. Where the hero wins for no other reason than that they were a good person. I don't have the braincells to describe this better right now but I wish modern fairy tales did this more instead of trying to be fantasy action movies.

[cornsword]

So i looked through my notes on my phone and I found this from last july and

Look.

Look I was going through a lot:

LoTRkenny

Leggsy: Anya yous seen what’s goin on edge a camp?

Eowyn: More arriving or more deserting?

Leggsy: Bit a both

Eowyn: Fuck boys this trending on twitter?

L: Ain’t breaking news, I concur

E: And yet…

L: More the reason folk’re desertin

E: Comin up on the fourth age here, Legs

Gimli: Yer outs a letters, leg o lamb, solves the puzzles

L: Yhear about this cave?

G: I’m waitin to sees if I should takes offense

L: No I mean it’s like, a famous cave, everyone knows about it, humans and elves I mean

E: You’re asking if we heard of the famous cave everyone knows.

L: Yeah

G: Nos

L: well. Thing is, about this cave. Is. Folks are sayin.

Aragorn: Fuck sake bud I’m prepared to reforge my foot in your ass, why don’t you look to the east to see if you can find the fuckin point

L: Haunted

A: Oh fer fucks sake

G: How haunted

L: i don’t know, marginally?

G: No I means haunted by what? Dwarves?

E: Elves?

G: Wights?

A: The dearly departed spirit of my good mood?

L: Humans. Warriors. Human warriors.

A: Ah well no surprise there on account a not bein immortal, surprised you can swing a dead warg without hittin the ghost of a human warrior, poor guys don’t have it so good as some of us

G: Lady Galadriels says each of us had a place and a roles ta play in this worlds

E: Does she now?

A: You got about two more Lady Galadriel Says to spend today fuck make sure you gets your money’s worth

L: See thing is, these are special guys.

E: Ug, really?

A: Okay leggsy, leggsy okay, let me ask you this: what is it that makes these dead fellas so special?

L: Well have you ever heard of the human men who betrayed Isuldur?

G:

E:

A: I recollect.

L: Well, people are sayin, that is, that it’s those….guys

G: Might want to upgrade that “marginally” to “substantially” there, Lego Waffle.

A: Yer tellin me we’re fixin to square up against half a mordor and near all what’s left a isengard, and you thought you MIGHT mention our proximity to “special guys.”

E: Hold on

A: Can’t hold it

E: Wait a second

A: I figure a whole epoch’s waitin enough

E: You’re tellin me you’re seriously fixin to consider squaring up alongside a whole mountain full a traitorous ghouls when there’s flesh and blood people here and now ready to fight for what’s theirs?

A: How many verses you got in this song,

E: I’ll keep singin until someone starts listening.

A: Right. Pitter patter

G: You certain about this course of action good buddy?

L: These’re traitorous oathbreakers.

G: Allegedlys.

L: You might wanna upgrade that to factuallys. When a friend asks for help you help em.

A: I don’t aim to sit here and debate whether or not to make a social call when the welfare a the realms a men are at stake, reckon it’s time to quit gassin and start sassin

E: You guys go on ahead, I got my own thing goin on

G: You keeps your good spirit and stays active even when your dad says you can’t rides out like you wants, that’s what I appreciates about you Miss Eowyns

E: Is that what you appreciates about me?

A: Hobbit back in the hole there, squirrelly g….

—-

Saruman: Gr-r-r-r-rima!

Grima: SRMan!

S: We are cast out.

G: exiled

S: WANDERERS

G: Homeless

S: ENEMIES made of all civilized realms

G: OUTCASTS!

S: Repetitive.

G: Saruman

S: GRIMA! Think of it. Where is the last place they will expecting our seeds to find purchase?

G: Your seed?!

S: our. Seeds. Of deeds.

G: I was gonna say

S: We dedicated servants of the <whispers> (((((dark lord)))) who are accustomed to swaying nations and kings, where would we never DEIGN to show our faces?

G: The city?

S: The opposite.

G: D-desperate

S: Depressing

G: Demonstrably

S: Determinedly

G: Distressingly?

S: DIABOLICALLY.

G: SRMAN.

S: We ride for the Shire, Grima. We hide out with the hicks.

G: Tonight?

S: to now! Make ready our steeds.

G: We only escaped with the one steed

S: THEN MAKE READY HIM.

—-

Samwise: More Lembas Mr Frodo?

Frodo: No thank you Sam. I’ve lost my taste for lembas bread.

S: You need to eat, Mr Frodo. You’ve barely slept. You’ll never make it to Mordor if you don’t conserve your strength.

F: The ring is getting heavier, Sam. I can feel him searching for it, needing it. I scarcely can bear it.

S: You will, Frodo. I know you will.

F: Sam. Thank you, Sam, i would be quite lost without your help.

Gollum: FUCKS SAKE IF YOU TWO AREN’T FUCKING INSUFFERABLE, WE’S HEADING TO A VOLCANO BUT WATCHIN YOU COWS MOO AT EACH OTHER HAS ME WORRIED ABOUT A WHOLE DIFFERENT KIND OF MOUNTIN

S: You watch how you speak to him you devil you!

G: FUCK YOU GAMGEE EVERY DAY IS SMEAGOL’S BIRTHDAY WHEN IT COMES TO KICKING TWELVE SHITS OUT OF YOU, IT’S THE ONLY ITEM THAT’S ON MY AMAZON WISH LIST THAT ISN’T SPERMICIDAL GUMMIES FOR YOUR MOM, I’LL BLOW OUT MY CANDLES OVER YOUR UNCONSCIOUS BODY AND WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN YA FAT FUCK

F: Calm yourself Smeagol…

G: FUCK YOU MASTER THE ONLY THING MORE PRECIOUS THAN YOU TWO PICKING OUT PLACE SETTINGS IS THE SOUNDS YOUR MOM MAKES WHEN SHE DANGLES HER RING PIECE OVER MY WHITE TOWER

S: Fuck you Gollum

G: FUCK YOU GAMGEE YOUR MOM SWORE ALLEGIANCE TO MY BROWN-EYE OF SAURON, TELL HER TO GO EASIER ON MY TATERS THAT SILLY SLUT LIKES TO PLAY CHEF AND BOIL EM MASH EM STICK EM IN HER MOUTH, MAYBE THAT’S WHY HER BREATH COULD BURN DOWN LAKE TOWN

F: Fuck you smeagol!

G: FUCK YOU MASTER MY ELVEN DAGGER GLOWS BLUE WHEN YOUR MOM’S FIFTH ORGASM IS NEAR, TOO BAD SHE SMELLS LIKE THE DEAD FUCKING MARSHES, TALK ABOUT STINGING THE NEXT MORNING, IF I WANTED TO CATCH FISH I’D A STAYED IN THE FUCKIN CAVE

Samwise and Frodo: FUCK you Smeagol!!

G: FUCK YOU BOTH TELL YOUR MOMS TO CONSIDER MY OFFER TO PARTIALLY SUBSIDIZE THEIR BOOBJOBS FUCKING SAGGINS OF SAG END IT’S EMBARRASSING FUCKS SAKE WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M ALWAYS CHOKING ON?

—-

Aragorn: Gandalf?

Gandalf: How’reyanow?

Aragorn: You fell.

G: At’s right. Through fire... and water... From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the uh Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I have been sent back, until my task is done.

Legolas: (under his breath) Gandalf’s a piece a shit…..

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ☀ misc. dúnedain ☀ headcanon disclaimer

          Gondor was a mighty kingdom at its height, and even in the years of its decline it held many fiefdoms within its borders aside from the capital of Minas Tirith. Those who led these provinces were known in times of war as the Captains of the Outlands, for when the King or Steward called upon them they were bound by honor and duty to ride to the defense of their kingdom.           During the War of the Ring, the Captains were rallied together to face the might of Sauron on the Pelennor Fields. From Lossarnach came Forlong the Fat, an old man of great girth and vitality, with two hundred men bearing mighty battle-axes. From Blackroot Vale came Lord Duinhir and his sons Duilin and Derufin, leading five hundred bowmen to battle. From Ringló Vale came Dervorin, son of its Lord, with three hundred men on foot; from Anfalas came Golasgil with a long line of civilians, fighting bravely despite their lack of equipment or skill. From the Green Hills came Hirluin the Fair with three hundred gallant green-clad men. From Dor-en-Ernil, Land of Princes, whose capital was Dol Amroth by the sea, came Prince Imrahil with a company of knights and seven hundred soldiers. From Anórien came Benrodir, newly ennobled for his bravery, with two hundred doughty men loyal to their prince. From Calembel came Inram the Tall, who had emptied his settlement of soldiers and led six hundred spearmen in his train; from Ethir Anduin came Nosdiligand, his force of a hundred fishermen small but mighty in their bravery.           These brave warriors fought to defend Minas Tirith, a city not their own, for its people were their kin and deserved not the cruelty of the Enemy. Amid the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, hundreds of soldiers fell; and with them fell many of their lords, also. Forlong, separated from his men, was rendered immobile when his horse was slain, and soon was overrun; Hirluin was killed in battle rushing to the aid of Éomer of Rohan; Nosdiligand was cut down at the very gates of Minas Tirith, defending against an onslaught of orcs. Though Duinhir survived, his twin sons Duilin and Derufin were slain, trampled by mûmakil while attempting to shoot out the monsters’ eyes; they died with questions in their heart of who their mother was, though in truth they had none, for Duinhir had borne them himself after a love affair gone wrong.           Of the Captains of the Outlands, only three were not present for the assault upon Minas Tirith, for they were defending their own lands, besieged by the Corsairs of Umbar. These were Angbor of Lamedon, Torthion of Lebennin, and Brassenor of Belfalas, and each of their lands was freed only when Aragorn and the Grey Company with the wraiths of the Oathbreakers swept along the coast liberating the Men of Gondor from the wrath of the Corsairs. Both Torthion and Brassenor were slain before Aragorn’s arrival, leaving Angbor alone to rally the people of the coast and march to Minas Tirith. Aragorn named Angbor “the Fearless” for his determination in leading four thousand men, many of which were his own horsemen, even after the destruction of his homeland. Indeed, his endurance through trial allowed Angbor to relieve Aragorn of the duty of protecting Minas Tirith when he marched to the Black Gate in a direct challenge to Sauron, for Angbor’s forces would defend the city as he went on the offensive, both important roles in bringing about the end of the War and the freedom of Gondor.

[cosmicbug379]

Today, Life is Good

It is 12:26 am, but here I am posting this fic anyway because I’m impatient. Here we go, another Boromir fic but this one is happy! YAY! I did not proofread this, because that is who I am as a person and I should probably get a beta reader or someone to edit these, but here we are. I like this fic. It’s a bit longer, and I have a lot of feelings, but I liked writing this! I hope you guys enjoy it and I hope it’s not too long or too weird or something.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings 

Pairing: Boromir x reader

Words: 2560

Rating: T 

Warnings: mentions of injuries, pretty large portion takes place in the Houses of Healing, but nothing is too crazy graphic, suggestive language, mentions of sex (but no actual smut)

There was a long night ahead of you after the battle that had raged on Pelennor Fields and through the city of Minas Tirith. As a healer, you hadn’t fought in the battle, but now the wounded were coming into the Houses of Healing in droves and you weren’t sure how you would keep up. 

You helped everyone you could, but there were so many wounded, you knew that it would be impossible to save everyone. You worked your way through the soldiers, beginning with the worst of the injuries. There were many you recognized, men of Gondor who had fought for their home. But there were many you didn’t recognize as well. The people of Rohan had arrived to help it seemed, and you were sure you would have lost the battle without them.

You were helping one man with a head injury who told you that an army of the dead had arrived from the river, cutting down all the orcs in their path and even swarming and killing the Mûmakil with ease. You told him that perhaps he hit his head harder than originally thought, but then one of the Riders of Rohan who was close by confirmed the man’s story. He said that a man named Aragorn had left them at Dunharrow and taken the paths of the dead, later arriving at the battle with the Oathbreakers behind him. Part of you had never believed the legends of the army that Isildur had cursed, but if they had won the battle for Minas Tirith, you were glad the legends were true.

You kept working through the night, barely stopping in an effort to help as many people as possible. You heard someone shouting for you and you hurried over to find a man cradling an injured woman. She was hurt badly, she was barely breathing. You learned she was the princess of Rohan and the man cradling her was her older brother. You managed to pry Éomer away from his sister far enough to examine her. You weren’t sure that Éowyn would survive.

“This is beyond my skill to heal,” you said sadly, looking at Éomer. “We need athelas to even begin the healing. This looks like the Black Breath.”

Éomer wailed in anguish and you felt terrible, you had seen similar wounds on men who had come too close to the Nazgûl in the battle at Osgiliath a few days ago when the orcs had taken the city on the river. Those men hadn’t survived.

“I can heal her,” you heard a voice say behind you. 

Turning, you looked up at the man. He didn’t look like much, but you heard Éomer speak to him and say his name. This was Aragorn, the ranger from the north, raised among elves for a time and apparently Isildur’s heir. 

You stood aside and let him take over, rushing off to find some athelas to aid him in healing the woman. When you returned to Aragorn with the needed herb, there was another man standing nearby. You dropped the athelas and stared at him. It couldn’t be.

Boromir was there, standing right in front of you, very much alive despite what you had been told. When you didn’t hand the athelas to Aragorn, all three men looked your way. Aragorn just grabbed the needed plant and kept working, Éomer didn’t seem interested in anything other than his sister, but Boromir looked at you and your world stopped. He was here, standing in front of you. This was all too much. A combination of little sleep or food and the shock of seeing your apparently not dead husband standing in front of you caused you to faint right there in the middle of the Houses of Healing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before you woke up, and you hadn’t been moved far. Boromir had caught you before you could hit the floor and injure yourself. You sat up, looking around before spotting Boromir speaking to Aragorn next to you.

“This can’t be real,” you whispered.

Boromir looked at you and smiled, “It is real, my love. I promise you that.”

“You’re dead… They found your horn washed up on the banks of the river. Faramir was sure of it, so was your father. We thought we would never see you again.” 

“I am sorry you thought I didn’t survive, but I am very much alive and I would very much like to steal a kiss from my beautiful wife,” his smile grew, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself.

You kissed him then, trying to show him how much you loved him through that kiss. He responded in kind and held you close to him. You felt at home in his arms, you thought you would never feel this way again, thought you would never see him, but he was here and he was holding you.

“I should get back to work,” you whispered. 

“You need to rest. I spoke to Ioreth, she said you haven’t taken a break in far too long. You’re no use if you can’t even stand on your feet,” he said. 

You hesitated, but eventually agreed with him. You were exhausted, there were so many wounded and you had been working nonstop for hours. A small break would be alright. 

You held Boromir's hand tightly, like you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. He led you to a corner of the Houses of Healing that had been set aside for the healers to rest, guiding you to lay on one of the cots. 

"Don't leave," you said, maintaining your death grip on his hand. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he said with a gentle smile. "But I'm afraid if you hold my hand any tighter you may crush it, my love." 

You eased your grip on his hand and laughed quietly.

"I'm sorry, Boromir. I'm just afraid that if I let go of you all those nightmares will be true and you'll be gone. Pippin didn't even tell me that you were alive, I'll have to have some very stern words with him. Though, we barely had a moment to speak, and he's been following Faramir around every moment he got. I did hear him tell your brother that he admired you very much, so it seems both sons of Denethor are good at making friends with Hobbits," you said with a smile. 

"I am very fond of the little ones," he agreed. "I'm surprised Pippin didn't talk to you more, I spoke of you often." 

"I've been here most of the time. I was here when he and Gandalf arrived, but we didn't get a chance to speak. Ever since Faramir came back with the horn… I've been here, avoiding anything that reminded me of you," you squeezed his hand gently. 

"I'm sorry I worried you. The battle at Amon Hen was only 17 days ago, everything happened so quickly I didn't have time to write to you. And I didn't realize my horn would wash up on the shore for Faramir to find." 

“Only 17 days ago? So much has happened since then,” you trailed off then sat up quickly. “Faramir! He was hurt when your father sent him to Osgiliath, I couldn’t help him. It was the Black Breath, just like Éowyn! You must tell your friend to help him!”

Boromir hushed you and pushed you gently until you were laying down again.

“I will tell Aragorn, I promise. Our new king will not let my brother die if he can save him. Now you need to rest, my love.”

You had many questions, but your eyes were so heavy. You drifted off to sleep with Boromir beside you, promising he would explain everything soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days after the Battle of Pelennor Fields you had to watch your husband leave again for Mordor, and you were afraid none of the Host led by Aragorn would return, but they did return, twenty days later and they brought two more Hobbits back with them.

You spent most of your time in the Houses of Healing once again, but this time you watched over Éowyn and Faramir more than anyone else. Aragorn had taught you how to help them, using the athelas and changing their bandages often. They were both almost back to normal, and you found them together more often than not. You were happy for them, they deserved to be happy; they deserved to be in love.

When you heard the horn announcing the arrival of those who had gone to the Black Gates you ran out of the Houses of Healing, sprinting through the city to get to the Citadel before they did. They beat you there, and you stood, searching for Boromir among the many weary faces before you. When you finally did see his face, you called for him before running into his arms.

Boromir caught you with ease, taking a step back to steady himself. He smiled at you and kissed you the moment you were still long enough. You were out of breath from running to find him, but you kissed him back with as much passion as you could muster.

“You’re here,” you sighed. “You came back to me again.”

“I will always come back to you my love,” he whispered into your hair.

You stood together for a long time, holding each other tightly until finally you followed Aragorn and the rest of the Fellowship into the Citadel. There were two new Hobbits with the company, you learned they were Frodo and Sam. Both of them were injured and on the brink of death, you worked alongside Aragorn to nurse them back to health.

Sam was the first to wake, his injuries were not quite so severe and he had not been carrying the Ring for months as Frodo had. Frodo returned to consciousness only a few days after Sam, and you found you very much enjoyed the company of all the Hobbits.

Boromir finally got the chance to apologize to Frodo for trying to take the Ring, and everyone was given the chance to recover from the long journeys they had been a part of. 

You learned many things from Aragorn, and became a better healer. Aragorn was very skilled, and the prophecies of the Heir of Isildur having the hands of a healer were correct. 

When you weren’t in the Houses of Healing you were with Boromir and your new friends. You liked the entirety of the Fellowship, but the Halflings were your favorites. They were wonderful company and Merry and Pippin were always energetic and happy to entertain you. Frodo and Sam were more reserved, but you found their company calming, and you enjoyed having tea with them every day. 

Gimli and Legolas were the strangest pair; an elf and a dwarf who were good friends was unheard of, but you loved them just as dearly as the others. The elf was calm and calculating, but he was also warm and kind and fiercely loyal. The dwarf was much like the few other dwarves you had met; loud and daring, and protective of his friends. 

Gandalf you already knew, and you were glad to see him again and spend time with him. When he would come to Minas Tirith while you were still a child, he spent most of his time with Faramir, who was always eager to learn from him. He was a wise and powerful wizard, even more so now than before.

Most of your time, though, was spent with Boromir. You had missed your husband dearly, and you barely let him out of your sight. He seemed happy enough to spend time with you, never denying you the opportunity and smiling at you every time you asked. Sleeping next to Boromir was a relief; you hadn’t slept so well in months. You felt safe and secure in his arms and that first night he was home you slept the whole night through for the first time since he had left nearly a year ago. 

You opened your eyes slowly, it was early and you were still tired; Boromir hadn’t let you get much sleep the night before. You felt his arm resting across your stomach and you turned to smile and watch him sleep a little longer. He had a slight smile on his lips, and you wondered what he was dreaming about. 

“I can feel you staring, my love,” he mumbled, his smile growing.

“I can’t help it,” you replied. “You’re very handsome, you know.”

“So you tell me,” he said, opening his blue eyes. 

“I’m right. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I believe you.”

You smiled at him and kissed him deeply, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Must we get out of bed today?” you asked sadly.

“I’m afraid that today it is very important we get out of bed, and soon. Aragorn’s coronation is today and it would reflect poorly on us if we were not in attendance,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You sighed heavily; you knew he was right, but you would much rather stay in bed with him all day. 

“Tomorrow we can stay in bed all day, I promise,” he said, as if he had been reading your mind.

“I suppose I can wait until tomorrow then,” you sighed. 

The coronation was a lovely affair; Aragorn was reunited with his love, Arwen, and all your new friends were there. Faramir announced his intention to marry Éowyn and they looked like they couldn’t be happier, in fact, Faramir looked happier than you had ever seen him. 

“Did we look so sickeningly happy when we announced our engagement?” Boromir whispered in your ear so his brother did not hear him.

“I’m sure we did,” you told him with a smile.

“Well I’m happy for them. I’m surprised it took so long if they were as close as you say in the Houses of Healing. We returned from the Black Gates over a month ago.”

“Well it probably took that long to convince her brother to allow it,” you said with a laugh. “Éomer still doesn’t look like he wants this to happen.”

“I suppose you’re right. It took nearly a year for me to convince your father to allow me to marry you,” he recalled.

“I remember,” you teased. “You asked him every day and when I finally found out you were asking I begged him to say yes. Finally he got so sick of both of us asking every day he agreed to allow it. I’m so happy he did; I’m so happy I’m married to you”

“I’m happy too, my love,” he smiled, pulling you closer. “And I’m even happier to be home with you. The world is finally going to know some peace, and we can be happy.” You nodded and pulled him into a corner to kiss him deeply. Boromir complied happily and pressed himself closer to you. 

“Perhaps, we could retire to our chambers early,” he whispered. “We could start trying to have children like we talked about before I left?”

“I don’t think Aragorn and Arwen will mind,” you smiled, taking his hand. 

The two of you laughed together, racing towards your rooms like two newlyweds; so in love with each other that no one else seemed to matter. 

Tags: @rzrcrst​ @opheliaelysia​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @hdlynn​ if anyone else wants to be tagged in any future LotR fics message me or send me an ask or something, I will happily add you! Or if you don’t want to be tagged let me know that too! 

[saessenach]

I'll add to this thread for a TROP liveblog for S1E5 thoughts - uhm how can I be normal about this entire show?? When it's surprising me at every turn and the things it does are just so GOOD.

My kingdom for the scene with Durin and Elrond, the one in which Elrond comes clean about the need for mithril, and rather than let it turn into a trite confrontation about oathbreaking etc etc, Durin twists it around like that. Both actors were DELIGHTFUL, and they sell being in cahoots so very well that I can't help but giggle along.

I did not expect them to steal my heart to such a degree but oh boy they ran away with it and now they own it completely.

The nepobaby on nepobaby violence with Kemen and Isildur is hilarious and they are more ridiculous than I can put into words, and they also get along like a ship house on fire. It almost makes me forget about the upcoming tragedy but heyyyy (it's a good thing that I know just enough of the lore to be vaguely uneasy about things, but not enough to actually know exactly what happens).

And uhm, I've been asking myself for years why the heathens on my dash (affectionate) are obsessed with Galadriel and the scruffy, unwashed, very hot Sauron and it's OK FINE I GET IT NOW I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL AGAIN FUCK. I've been listening to their themes at work all day and I was so excited to watch this episode and oh god, did it deliver. I am obsessed with how Galadriel builds up her nemesis and brings him back into this war - to a place he swore never to return!! I'm insane, on one hand, about the cocktail of deceit and honesty that's going on with him AND on the other with the hard liquor shot that's Galadriel's faith and determination. She doesn't know how to stop fighting!! And he will follow her into that war!! FUCK.

The ending parade was so incredible, and I loved how everything about it was shot - I can't believe they dressed Charlie Vickers in fucking Aragorn, and I can't believe how well it worked. I'm simultaneously delighted and yelling at the sheer audacity of that costuming choice.

I'm yelling even louder, however, at Galadriel's entrance, he armour and the way she was lit - everyone was standing in the golden sun, in splendid armour, but she's the one who seemed lit from within. That scene had ONE singular line, and beyond Elendil's call to attention you don't need more to understand what it means for Galadriel - millennia old and a legend herself, to walk amongst these soldiers to war. Her HAIR. Her ARMOUR. The fucking MARCH straight to SauronHalbrand and the way they looked at each other and NGHHHHH fuck I will never be normal about these two again.

No but why is this silly show so much FUN and why am I several years late to it!!!

I love lying characters who tell the truth but only to a certain degree, so I am absolutely YELLING about Sauron flat-out TELLING Galadriel about the blood-oath to Morgoth and "I am not the hero you seek"

I especially find it really fun how you've got the little sleight of hand trick setting up Sauron behind Halbrand - the so-called kingship of the Southlands, the mystery of a crest that marks the way, the whole forge thing!! Gosh, it would have been sooooo much to go into this blind about the reveal BUT this is also really FUN.

(I've only ever read one of the LOTR books, but had a lovely time with the movies, so I am not the best at discerning whether this is a ~good~ adaption, but hooo boy am I having a lot of fun with it!!!)

[tolkienmatters]

“Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, last king at Fornost,’ said Aragorn: Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers; at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the prey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.

The words of Malbeth the Seer regarding the Paths of the Dead. Return of the King. The Passing of the Grey Company, 

[kashyyyyk]

The Return of the King (V) - Chapter 2: The Passing of the Grey Company

I’m already running behind again :’) and sometimes I don’t know why I still post these chapter updates, but I guess I’m one of those people who finishes what they start, so there ya go. even though I realize these posts are mostly for my own reference now, nor do I usually have anything of interest to say to anyone but myself :’)

“The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers [...] Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.”

in other words, this chapter was amazing and so many things happened! it starts off as a sort of mirror (from Merry’s POV) to the Pippin chapter. both plegding their allegiance to the respective kings. and both missing each other and feeling out of place and kinda useless, aww. then the focus turns to Aragorn and Éowyn (my gods don’t get me started on these two uggghh eternal heartbreak). and at the end they’re passing through the Paths of the Dead and out of them into Gondor from the south and on their way to the war. 

I don’t have to tell you that apart from Aragorn and Éowyn making me feel many feelings, my favourite part of the chapter was THE GREY COMPANY MY DARLINGS THE DÚNEDAIN RANGERS ♥♥♥! next to the Rohirrim as a whole, maybe even more so, these are my faves of all time, and so little is written about them and they weren’t in the movies, omg my man HALBARAD, and the twins and i’m just.. 

and my guy Aragorn pretty much immediately embarks upon this whole Return of the King thing, facing down Sauron through the palantír, taking it upon himself to fulfil some prophecies, leading the company and their horses though the Paths of the Dead using his will alone. hahaha I’m just one big fangirly mess at this point :’))

and aw fuck it, I do have to mention Éowyn, and how he clearly feels bad for leaving her the way he did. that line “only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore” just right went and broke my heart :( and yeah, he hinted to her that if he could choose where to be right now he’d be in Rivendell, but no one will ever tell me that’s not just something he says mostly as a reminder to himself, because he’s torn between Arwen and Éowyn here again, if only for a moment. i cry forever. (don’t get me wrong here, I realize full well this is a relationship that could never be, and they both end up with the people they should be with, but I’ve just always shipped them in this tragic sort of way and i have a lot of feelings don’t judge lmao :’)).

one last thing I want to mention is that I thought it a great thing the Paths of the Dead part was seen from Gimli’s POV! and the fact that the supernatural is very much present here again, not just with the ghosts of the oathbreakers but in the way Gimli describes certain scenes. like time was warped somehow, it seemed like they’d been underground for ages and when they came out of the mountains it seemed like some other world. also the stone at Erech looked “unearthly [...], as though it had fallen from the sky”. I don’t remember instances in the books before where things felt almost scifi-ish :) good stuff!

[rangers-arecool]

  At 98 years old, the chill of a nearby spirit was a all to familiar friend to the Northern Ranger. Her childhood years had been spent mostly on the Barrow-downs near Bree; an enigma but also one few dared to cross. A five year old finding companionship among the spirits, bone-men and barrow-hounds who wandered within the Mists. Time after time, she had come across and been sent on missions to use her ability to communicate with the Dead and figure out was going on. An ability that Boromir had yet to learn about, despite being there when many of the Oathbreakers decided to follow her and not Aragorn to Pelargir.

  Hatred though the Wain-rider Chieftain had for Gondor and for the man besides her; that was not the same for Hal. There was a silent message only she could read beneath the visible hatred and a slight nod made the Chieftain aware that she had understood. Contrary to Boromir’s grip upon his sword hilt, hers were more relaxed. Yet never less guarded, despite it being hidden beneath the casual position. A reason why time after after time, Aragorn had continually sent her into some of the most dangerous undercover missions.

  Her blank expression never altered even as she followed him back to Haerondir. But that was where her complicity to letting him lead ended. Rather Decisively. She let his hand go and disappeared into the ruins, moving silently on bare feet- like a ghost. As much as she loved Boromir, she had zero intention of allowing to dictate her every movement. It took her less than a moment to return, her pack looped over one shoulder and dark eyes cold and black.

  For as long as they had known each other, Boromir had only ever known her as Aragorn’s second. There had never really been a reason for him to meet the other side of her; the side that was the reason for most calling her cold hearted. The side that was created by all the pain, fear and hurt during her earlier years as a Ranger and been the reason why the North Downs had never fallen to Angmar.

  “Boromir. If I get on your companion the way my mood currently is, he’ll try to throw me off.” Her words were quiet, before she stepped away just as the wild black stallion slowed to a stop by her side. Hal was silent, thoughts whirring about in her mind as she vaulted up onto Star’s saddleless back with ease. Although no one knew it right then, the news that had been passed between Wain-rider Chieftain and Esteldin Commander would be soon be important to all. But right now, she waited patiently for her partner to get on his horse.

  At the mention of her lodgings, she just sighed and ran hand through her hair. ”I can take you there but you.. won't be happy about it.”

Veiled in the warcraft of his people - the skins of animals across his back, the light armor that served to protect his torso, cape and metal - the Chieftain of the Wainriders was proud. Hatred for Gondor noticed from first glance, the way in which sword was held firm in hand, shield dangling from horse-saddle side, eyes squinted and mouth pressed to thin line. Flesh of sallow-color tanned ever more by the sun that had not yet set, the brightness of faded orange, hair that ran straight down and beyond his shoulders moved from wind alone. Danced in the breeze that dared to distort the marks about his forehead, adorned in pink; made red the scars that misshaped his youth. True age ruined by such troubles, the toll of conflict, never to be regained. Lost like the countless who were buried; the look of this foe none too strange for Boromir.

An enemy that he had known before, recalled in both dreams and when awake, an end that would follow only a singular path. Forked into two points but always led to the same destination; the touch to his own weapon was proven tight, knuckles white underneath the black leather gloves Boromir wore, fingers pressed deeply into the handle. Haerondir to be escaped from; more than one returned to the place of Hal's rest, Denethor's planned mission forsaken for better, sweeter glories. What could rival the loveliness of her soft kiss. Gentle onto Boromir's cheek, the stubble that had not been shaved, slightly overgrown and darkened, Hal's delicate gesture. Gave reason for the fast beat that captured his heart, the cause for his hand to grab hers, without another word did Boromir begin their journey out.

Old castle stone that was transformed; lunges across the broken bits, the rocks and rubble that had been destroyed by adversary intent. Catapult boulders and the heads of friends stolen, tortured and mutilated; stains of blood laid on the shale, still, scarlet and crimson splattered carelessly. Thrown against the walls and sides - hurled into the windows, shattered the glassware and torn the tapestries - centuries created. Fashioned from difficult labors, tears and sweat, Anborn parted with no more than little words, quick goodbyes and the courtesy of nodded head. Loyal as any of his fellow Rangers, brave and stern; familiar with the earnestness of Boromir, the actions of so passioned heart.

Focus turned from the view in front to the view behind, Boromir shifted his sights about himself and Hal, always mindful, always thorough, ever while his legs made their leaps and bounds over stone and grasses alike. At the point between stone and earth, his hand never untangled from hers, interlaced together and only able to be separated from the force of the gods. Powers that could split the world and have it all be reborn anew.

"Come! Come, my dearest!" Boromir beckoned, muscles sore from the exertion but stubborn despite, breath collected and released in due speed. "We're nearly to the horse!"

Speckled gray with mane so silver, the stallion had remained as Boromir left him. Devouring what he could of the greens beneath his hooves - barely sprouted from the soils, tips brushed only in faint shade - what death and evil had not claimed, the outskirts of Mordor. Free to roam as he pleased until the return of his master, more so friend, Boromir greeted the horse in delicate embrace, unoccupied hand slid from neck to shoulder. A learned touch; from the lessons of Rohan's finest, where Gondor had gone uncertain and unsure, where the search for Merry and Pippin had brought.

Boromir encouraged, both hands prepared to assist, the unfortunate release of Hal to be soon soothed. "Up you go, Hal. You first."

"Worry not, Anborn and the others are more than capable of holding Haerondir, as you already understand. And, on behalf of my father, the Steward of all Gondor, I declare your mission finished." Boromir announced, once the smallest signs of hesitation played on the features of Hal, a Ranger never satisfied until her promises were seen through.

"I'll not have you spend another moment here, not when there is no need to. You have done your service to my father. You have served his wishes, though meaningless and downright mad they were. You have made me proud, Hal. Not that I have ever lost faith in you. Come, as you said, let's go to your lodgings. Let us be together, speak on what needs to be spoken of. I have much to say. So much to make up for. If not for the safety of one another alone, hop up on the horse to least be rid of this dreadful place. I cannot bear the air, Hal. It steals my breath; makes heavy mine heart which is yours. Please, love."

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part 2

“...”

THE PASSING OF THE GREY COMPANY

Merry is hanging out with the tracking party, feeling a bit lost and very useless-baggage-y. What’s going to happen, Aragorn? Well, Aragorn is being very dramatic, bless him. “Do not look for mirth at the ending. It will be long, I fear, ere Théoden sits at ease again in Meduseld. Many hopes will wither in this bitter Spring.” Oh, Aragorn.

Four riders are trying to catch up to the Rohirrim; everyone is, of course, very suspicious, but it turns out the leader is Aragorn’s good old friend Halbarad, a ranger and Dunadan! And Elrond’s cool sons are with him! They brought thirty dudes to help in the war effort. Like I’m sure they’re very skilled and all but. Thirty dudes. You take what you can I guess. Apparently they received a summons from Galadriel after Gandalf was resurrected. Everyone is back at Helm’s Deep now (I missed them actually going there), mainly I mention this because there now exists a place called THE DEATH DOWN, where the huorns killed just massive amounts of people.

Theoden is holding one last feast before they all go to war; he tells Merry he shall ride with him!

‘May I?’ said Merry, surprised and delighted. ‘That would be splendid!’ He had never felt more grateful for any kindness in words. ‘I am afraid I am only in everybody’s way,’ he stammered; ‘but I should like to do anything I could, you know.’

He’s such a good kid. Theoden says he’s going to be king’s squire! Not sure why, the eve of a colossal war is not really the best time to be sparing people’s feelings of uselessness. Or maybe he’s trying to free up whoever is his current squire to kill some people? You don’t do that sort of thing for no reason is all I’m saying. Anyway, in a stupendously clear parallel to last chapter, Merry lays his sword at Theoden’s feet and swears fealty. I loove the contrast between Pippin swearing fealty to a lord he doesn’t really like out of obligation and gratitude; and then Merry swearing fealty to a lord he very much admires out of a desperation to somehow be useful. Pippin’s rather awe-filled reception at Minas Tirith contrasts with Merry’s anxieties about being a burden. Then there’s this:

‘As a father you shall be to me,’ said Merry.

‘For a little while,’ said Théoden.

AWKWARD. Merry why must you. Anyway Aragorn comes up and tells Theoden he’s going to take the Paths of the Dead (everyone in earshot shivers) despite having said a couple paragraphs ago that he would have to be REALLY DESPERATE to do that. Theoden’s company rides off; Aragorn is like “wow I love Merry so much, he’s such a good and important person.” And everyone else agrees: “hobbits are super important and I love them.” I think it’s supposed to stand in contrast to Merry’s own poor opinion of himself, but I’m not really sure why they have such a high opinion of him. Just because he’s brave? Shrug. Aragorn also says he looked into the palantir and had a staring contest with Sauron to wig him out. “I’m the heir of Elendil,” he said. “Here’s Narsil! Right here! Remember her, motherfucker?” And Sauron, reportedly, went “Oh fuck.”

Then Aragorn explains why he’s going thru the Paths of the Dead. You probably know already, so I won’t relate it here. There is a seer involved though, which is pretty cool. Some oathbreaking. Very Numenorean honestly, these dead Men of the Mountains remind me of the Faithless, in that the reason for their oathbreaking is a new unexpected allegiance to Sauron. And with that exposition, the “greay company” is off! For some reason they make it to Edoras long before Theoden does, and Aragorn comes to say hi to Eowyn. 

When she heard of the battle in Helm’s Deep and the great slaughter of their foes, and of the charge of Théoden and his knights, then her eyes shone.

I see what gogol means. Eowyn is gay for Deeds. She also conceptualizes being the ruler of Edoras and sorta Rohan as “exile,” because WHY would you want to rule anything when you could be killing people??? The next time we hear a description of Eowyn it’s that “her eyes were on fire.” Why did baby ghoul relate so much to Eowyn? Up until now I thought it was because she was the only TV lady who had freckles like me, but actually maybe it was her nebulous gender dysphoria and frustration. She is SO frustrated. First she offers to ride with Aragorn on his death errand. He refuses her; she’s the ruler of the Mark. BITTER. BITTER BITTER BITTER. WHY DOES EOWYN ALWAYS GET LEFT BEHIND? IS SHE NOT A SHIELD-MAIDEN? This is a good exchange:

‘A time may come soon,’ said he, ‘when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.’

And she answered: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.’

Get him, Eowyn. I mean, it IS essential to make sure non-combatants in Rohan stay safe and such, but Eowyn is right that she shouldn’t be forced into the unpraised deeds just because she’s a woman. Before you say such things, Aragorn, maybe start a culture of praising valiant deeds that don’t involve killing anyone?? Then we’ll talk.

Once again as Aragorn’s company rides away we get the same exact image of Eowyn standing and watching them go... this time filled with tension and anger, her fists clenched and tears in her eyes. Aragorn is sad about it. Whatever, dude. We timeskip to the entrance of the Path of the Dead, where the Dunedain are gentlly coaxing their horses in through the awful doorway. Legolas has to enchant his horse to get it to go in. Gimli is left alone outside, possibly the only one who feels so viscerally how wrong this underground passage is compared to what it should be. I think his fear is greater for the fact that he has never felt uneasy underground before; it’s like home, perverted into something dreadful. As they go forward Aragorn calls the dead. No-one answers, but Legolas can see them riding behind. As they ride through Morthond Vale I am getting the impression that there are living humans there? And they are afraid because, like, the king of the dead. Aragorn and co ride hell for leather for the Stone of Erech.

The Stone of Erech is an enormous black sphere, half buried in the ground, that for some reason was brought out of Numenor. Like... you didn’t have anything better to bring on your ships than an enormous black sphere of stone? Anyway this is the site of the oath that was broken, and now the dead are ready to fulfill it and have peace after like 3000 years. “When all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled,” he says. Which is pretty harsh. Like, what if a hundred years from now there’s just one servant of Sauron remaining? That would just suck for everyone. Also he unfurls a banner Arwen made for him, which is apparently black on black. Love it. Very stylish. So that’s the muster of the dead. What about

THE MUSTER OF ROHAN?

This bit is confusing because I thought it was going to be Pippin POV but then as soon as they mentioned the Rohirrim had made it to Gondor it turned into Merry POV. I never have a good intuition for what things Tolkien will think it’s reasonable to skip... Wait no they didn’t make it to Gondor. They just about made it to Edoras. This is very confusing and I have poor reading comprehension. The point is Merry is sad and lonely because everyone’s speaking Rohir or whatever and he misses all his friends and absolutely everyone he knows. The party reaches Harrowdale and climbs up a super steep path for some reason; it’s lined with Pukel Men, monoliths carved into a human shape. Ahhhh I love standing stones, Heck I love standing stones. They’re from the “dark years” (when Numenor was still going on and thus Real People weren’t in Middle Earth ::P) and some unknown people made this place, Dunharrow. OH. Here’s Eowyn! The reason they’re here is because Edoras has been evacuated, and Theoden wanted to check on his people.

While Theoden and his peeps are having dinner a messenger from Gondor comes in and Merry is like BOROMIR??? WTF. But no, he just can’t tell Gondorians apart haha. Also what was the point of the beacons if Denethor was just going to send a messenger straight to Theoden. Theoden promises 6000 guys (not bad! that’s twice the entire Gondor) in one week, though the messenger says a week will probably be too late. Still, he says sarcastically, maybe you can disturb the orcs feasting on our corpses.

Merry wakes up the next day in the darkness; the sun will not rise today. Or if it does nobody will see it, because Sauron has sent a great wave of black clouds across the sky to embolden his troops. Dreamy. Theoden is releasing Merry from his service (yes, after three days, what a copout) to serve Eowyn here while she rules the noncombatant Rohirrim. Merry is. Sad. He wants to help! Even if he has to be tied to a horse! But no dice. Eowyn takes him off to arm himself anyway. Thanks Eowyn you are a true bro. As Theoden’s company leaves, they sing a song that is clearly based on Anglo Saxon epic poetry, and also I believe was not meant to be sung. So. Minus points, Johnald. It doesn’t sound like a song, it doesn’t scan like a song. It’s a nice poem, though. A nice lad called Dernhelm offers to bear Merry on his horse and hide him since Theoden won’t take him. Thanks for showing us Eowyn’s exact transition goals, it’s good.

[the-firebird69]

It is I who was Brea an oath not our dead. It shows in the clip proud Arrogon offering the DeVille as we are called a deal.

They accepted i helped the deal in my favor mines favor.

Trump a louse

Zues

THE ONE WIKI TO RULE THEM ALL

THE ONE WIKI TO RULE THEM ALL

Army of the Dead



GENERAL INFORMATION

DOMINIONS

Caverns beneath the Dwimorberg and the valley of Harrowdale

LANGUAGES

Westron

MEMBERS

The King of the Dead

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"The Dead are following," said Legolas. "I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The Dead are following."

"Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned," said Elladan.- The Return of the King, "The Passing of the Grey Company"

The Army of the Dead, also known as the Dead Men of Dunharrow or Oathbreakers, were Men of the White Mountains, cursed to remain in Middle-earth by Isildur after they abandoned their oath to aid him in the War of the Last Alliance. They haunted the caverns beneath the Dwimorberg, and the valley of Harrowdale that lay in its shadow, though they were said to appear in the valley only in times of trouble or death. They were led by the King of the Dead, the most fearsome and terrifying of the whole Dead Army. Since the line of Isildur had "ended" (after a couple of hundred years), no one could call upon the Dead Army to aid them in their hours of need, as they would only answer to an Heir of Isildur. It wasn't until the Third Age in the War of The Ring that Aragorn, Isildur's heir, would call upon them to fight with him against Sauron, fulfilling their oath and releasing them from their curse.

History

Over the land there lies a long shadow, westward-reaching wings of darkness. The Tower trembles; to the tomb of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the Oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erech, they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.

[booty-uprooter]

iirc the oathbreakers don't go as far as pelleanor in the book. they help aragorn commander a ride then he gives em permission to fuck off and enjoy not being oathbreakers anymore

in any case, its not like the witch king had some magic barrier that could only be penetrated by someone who fit a specific requirement. its more a matter of how fate works in tolkien, so the right (or wrong *coughturincough*) person is always in the right place at the right time, due to a combination of 'chance if chance you call it' and just enough divine intervention to allow for reasonable doubt

eowyn and merry were able to kill the witch king because they were in the right place at the right time with the right equipment (merrys dagger was made by someone who really, really hated the witch king and the way magic works in tolkien basically meant the makers hatred caused it to do extra damage to him, which gave eowyn the opportunity she needed to finish him off) to do so, but how they got there and why they were the ones to do it mainly boiled down to a string of lucky coincidences

tl;dr: wk isn't under some kind of magic protection from damage by living men; tolkien just really liked homer & macbeth

eowyns 'i am no man/you look upon a woman' moment is great iconic and all that, but how fucking funny would it have been if shed just killed wk without bothering to bring up the loophole she was about to exploit and just let him die all confused about wtf just happened

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ✦ middle men ✦ headcanon disclaimer

          The Men of the Mountains were descended from the first Men who wandered to the West in the First Age, but unlike the Three Houses of the Edain they never crossed the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. Instead they settled in the White Mountains, and over the centuries divided into several distinct groups, including the Bree-men, the Dunlendings, and the Mountain-men themselves.           Of all those kindreds, only the Men of the Mountains ever fell into Sauron-worship, fearing and revering the dark god who threatened conquest of the whole world. When the kingdom of Gondor was founded and Sauron’s might was contested, King Rioc felt hopeful that his people might be freed from the Shadow’s influence and agreed to meet with King Isildur upon the Hill of Erech. There Isildur had placed a great black globe, an Oath-stone, and Rioc swore upon the stone that he and his people would aid the Dúnedain in their time of need.           At that time Rioc was but a young man, newly come into his crown, and when Isildur called upon the Men of the Mountains to fulfill their Oath, he had fallen into old age, though his liege remained young and hale. His queen, Annaig, had recently died at the hands of Sauron’s orcs, and he saw this as retribution from the Dark God for straying from his worship. To make matters worse, his only daughter Bravantel had dallied with a Dúnadan soldier and had a child out of wedlock, ruining her prospects of marriage among her own people. All this culminated in Rioc’s refusal to honor his Oath, for which Isildur cursed him and his people to never find rest until they fulfilled their sworn duty.           Rioc dismissed this threat, and his people were relieved not to march to war against their Dark God, but upon their king’s death the true extent of Isildur’s curse was revealed. Though his body perished, his wraith endured, trapped in his mountain halls, and one by one each of his people followed him. No more children were born to the Mountain-men, and they grew to hate the living and curse their faithless king, and it was foretold by Malbeth the Seer that they would not find peace until they stood once more at the Stone of Erech and heeded the call of Isildur’s heir.           The wraiths of the Mountain-men haunted the caverns beneath the Dwimorberg and the valley of Harrowdale, and came to be known as the Paths of the Dead. None among the living who walked those paths ever returned to tell the tale; most notable of these foolish souls was Prince Baldor of Rohan, who endeavored to prove the Oath of his own fathers, much like the one taken by King Rioc, would not have such horrific repercussions if broken. Baldor embarked alone upon his journey into the darkness, where he was lost in an ancient temple of the Mountain-men to Sauron, starving to death after the vengeful ghosts broke his legs.            Baldor’s skeleton would not be discovered for five centuries, when Aragorn II Elessar embarked upon his own journey through the Paths of the Dead. Aragorn’s quest was marked by a different fate: he and his companions survived, for he was Isildur’s heir, and called upon the Oathbreakers to fulfill their oath at long last. King Rioc and his people had grown weary of their half-existence, and agreed to take up arms against Sauron as they had sworn to do. They joined Aragorn in his crusade through the south of Gondor, and for their aid Isildur’s heir granted them their freedom, and they vanished from the world, free to receive the Gift of Men after centuries of dwindling in the shadows of the mountains.

[tolkienmatters]

Umbar was a major Númenorean port city in Harad, off the Bay of Belfalas, that went from a major Gondorian trading port to a pirate haven. Founded by the Númenóreans during their colonizing of Middle Earth, under Ar-Pharazôn it was the staging point for his invasion and subjugation of Sauron. When Númenor collapsed the city came under the control of the King’s Men (Black Númenóreans who sided with the dark cult of Morgoth). With Númenor destroyed and the remaining Númenorean colonies under control of the Faithful (Those who stayed loyal to the Valar), Umbar became more closely aligned with Morgoth’s other allies such as neighboring Harad. By the beginning of the Third Age the city remained under Gondor’s control, and they were able to repel many of the Harad invasions until the Kin-strife (Castamir’s attempt to seize power). The civil war weakened Gondor and allowed Umbar to become independent and the city become a corsair haven. The Corsairs of Umbar were a mix of the King’s Men, Castamir the Usurper’s supporters from the Kin-strife, and local Haradrim who joined the powerful city-state. Gondor was not able to reclaim the city for hundreds of years due to the Great Plague, Mordor’s incursions into Ithilien, and Corsair raids along the Belfalas coast. Significant battles in the latter half of the Third Age include The Corsair raid on Pelargir which killed King Minardil. Minardil’s ancestor King Umbardacil briefly recapturing Umbar but being ousted by the Haradrim, and Thorongil (Aragorn) leading a raid that sabotaged the Corsair fleet just prior to the War of the Ring. During the War of the Ring Umbar had joined Sauron and sent their remaining fleet to attack Gondor, however Aragorn summoned the Army of the Dead (Oathbreakers from the Second Age) to frighten and ultimately rout the Corsairs. With the destruction of Sauron came the scattering and ruin of his cult, and Umbar fell back into the fold of the Reunited Kingdom. Aragorn 2, Corsairs 0.

“There at Pelargir lay the main fleet of Umbar, fifty great ships and smaller vessels beyond count. Many of those that we pursued had reached the havens before us, and brought their fear with them; and some of the ships had put off, seeking to escape down the River or to reach the far shore; and many of the smaller craft were ablaze. But the Haradrim, being now driven to the brink, turned at bay, and they were fierce in despair; and they laughed when they looked on us, for they were a great army still.

‘But Aragorn halted and cried with a great voice: “Now come! By the Black Stone I call you! “ And suddenly the Shadow Host that had hung back at the last came up like a grey tide, sweeping all away before it. Faint cries I heard, and dim horns blowing, and a murmur as of countless far voices: it was like the echo of some forgotten battle in the Dark Years long ago. Pale swords were drawn; but I know not whether their blades would still bite, for the Dead needed no longer any weapon but fear. None would withstand them.

‘To every ship they came that was drawn up, and then they passed over the water to those that were anchored; and all the mariners were filled with a madness of terror and leaped overboard, save the slaves chained to the oars. Reckless we rode among our fleeing foes, driving them like leaves, until we came to the shore. And then to each of the great ships that remained Aragorn sent one of the Dúnedain, and they comforted the captives that were aboard, and bade them put aside fear and be free.”

- Gimli telling how the Three Hunters captured the Corsairs’ ships. Return of the King, The Last Debate