#bottom boromir

[ao3statistics]

Lord-of-the-Rings-Event Week: Day 1: Boromir

Welcome to my LotR charts event!

Date of creation: 10.05.2024

He's supposed to live! Case closed I guess.

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available on Ao3, NOT English only.

This sounds cute btw but also weirdly specific?

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

[sindar-princeling]

between the newsletter’s entry where we learn the ponies are okay, me picking apart rings of power and analysing why it doesn’t fully feel like tolkien, and this one gifset of frodo and sam i reblogged, i felt like i finally have to gather my thoughts regarding what makes tolkien tolkien

and while there are many things that do, i’d argue that the most special one is its earnestness.

characters in LOTR care unabashedly, with all their hearts, and love so easily, whether it’s platonic, familial or romantic.

the hobbits feel like the most obvious example - merry, pippin and sam follow frodo for as long as they’re able; their loyalty goes deep to their bones, and their relationships are so full of trust, joy, devotion, fondness.

but all of LOTR is just more examples of the same thing. after the war legolas spends the rest of his life in middle-earth with gimli - they travel together for over a hundred years - and then he decides he won’t just say goodbye when gimli dies! and he does something that hasn’t been done before and just takes gimli to valinor, but not before aragorn dies. because they both loved him, too. faramir asks “do you not love me, eowyn?“ and she realises she does, and he says he’ll marry her and they’ll grow a garden and heal, and he kisses her even though everyone can see them. sam loves frodo, and he loves rosie, and he spends his life with her, then joins frodo in the undying lands after she dies.

and it shines through in the movies, too! it’s thanks to both the direction and the acting skills of the cast, of course, that so, so often all emotions are on full display - whenever sam and frodo interact, when aragorn kisses boromir’s forehead, when the hobbits say goodbye at the grey havens, when pippin finds merry at the battlefield, the way gandalf reacts when frodo says he’ll go to mordor, the way theoden breaks down at his son’s grave, the way he cares about eowyn like she’s his own child, the way eomer reacts when he finds eowyn and thinks she’s dead. those are just examples off the top of my head.

it’s also very special to me because in many fictional works (not only in fantasy) people just aren’t allowed to be that open - mostly men, but not exclusively - meanwhile this earnestness is something i always look for in fiction.

it stands out especially if you consider some fantasy creators (not naming any names but you know who i mean ajsjdjfjf) saying they “just want to reflect the misogyny of the period” (which is just bullshit and also demeaning to people of all genders in so many ways), because while LOTR is heavily male-dominated, tolkien managed to do something very, very interesting and important there.

he says, “war is the province of men”, but it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to want to be there. you’re not supposed to want to go to battle, suffer and/or die. eomer wants eowyn to stay home because he loves her, and couldn’t stand to see her die in a cruel, gruesome way (and when he thinks she’s dead, it’s the most devastating display of grief in the whole movie trilogy).

the heroes go to war because there are things that need defending, and dying for a noble cause is honorable, but again - it’s about defending, not about fighting. the clearest villains of LOTR are people who want the war to happen. many of the heroes, most of whom are men, just want peace for their people, want companionship (one of the first things aragorn says to the hobbits is that he’d be happy to have more friends, because being a ranger means he’s lonely), or want a good meal and a good drink like the hobbits. they want comfort and warmth. they want to finish a book like bilbo. they want to live in a garden among all things that live and grow like faramir. they want to marry and have a home and kids like sam.

and the things is, it’s not always that common in fiction, but it’s absolutely common, you know. IN REAL LIFE? BECAUSE MEN ARE PEOPLE? so it’s just really good to have tolkien absolutely divorce masculinity in his works from how his characters show emotions, or how much comfort they crave. and that is a realistic approach i’m interested in.

[tarvastries]

Of Arthur Pendragon and Boromir, son of Denethor II. Of fathers and sons and the pressures put on the latter by the former. Of the weight of expectation that divides them. And of the love that remains in spite of it.

Lord of the Rings | BBC Merlin

[nelladlaen]

ahh.. ordered a Rohan patch for my jacket.. finally :)

[sylveongender]

thinking about how aragorn wears boromir’s bracers after his death

image description under the cut!

[ID: first image is of boromir where he’s sitting down and you can see his bracer on his arm and the second image is of aragorn with his arm up where you can see the same bracer. the bracer is brown leather with an intricate design on it of feathers at the top towards the elbow, star like symbols run down the middle of the feather design, the white tree of gondor is on the bottom towards the wrist and finally outside the wrist area on both sides is some swirly looking accent design. End ID.]

[lordoftheringsmusical]

Meet the cast of The Lord of the Rings at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater this summer!

From left to right, top to bottom:

Spencer Davis Milford (Frodo Baggins), Tom Amandes (Gandalf), Lauren Zakrin (Galadriel), Rick Hall (Bilbo Baggins), Tony Bozzuto (Gollum), Michael Kurowski (Samwise Gamgee),

Ben Mathew (Pippin), Eileen Doan (Merry), Justin Albinder (Legolas), Will James Jr. (Strider / Aragorn), Ian Maryfield (Gimli), Jeff Parker (Saruman / Elrond),

Alina Jenine Taber (Arwen), Suzanne Hannau (Rosie Cotton), Matthew C. Yee (Boromir), Ensemble: Joey Faggion, Mia Hilt, Jarais Musgrove,

Hannah Novak, Adam Qutaishat, Bernadette Santos Schwegel, Laura Savage, Carter Rose Sherman (Understudy), Arik Vega

[buckleburyblog]

→ The Fellowship as things I did when I was younger.

Part 2

- Frodo: Crawling through a small gap inside the huge blackberry bush right next to my house because nobody else could reach those berries to pick + Catching my hair and clothes on the thorns on the way out (painful but worth it).

- Sam: Getting chased by the cockerel we were fostering everytime I stepped out into the garden/pen; had to go outside with a broom as a shield.

- Pippin: Willingly ate cat biscuits on multiple occasions.

- Merry: Put pillows at the bottom of the stairs and jumped from the top just to see if I could make it without hitting the bottom steps.

- Gimli: Doing axe throwing at a school camping thing and accidentally hitting the target dead centre first try, only to try replicating it and have the next axe go flying down the field nowhere near the target.

- Legolas: Scaring the shit out of my parents as a kid when we’d go out by running off towards the trees to climb them, which eventually got me put on a child leash. (I kept getting out of it so my mum bought a full body harness to keep me from escaping the next one).

- Aragorn: Setting up a tent to go camping in the backgarden with my dad as a little kid + Constantly sleeping in a sleeping bag instead of using blankets/duvets.

- Boromir: Being the fastest runner in my primary school and always jumping in as bait to save my friends from getting caught whilst playing Tag.

- Gandalf: Somehow talking my way out of every single detention (or getting out of it early) and having none of them put on my record by the time I finished.

[meteors-lotr]

Pippin: Boromir, how does someone get pregnant?

Boromir: Well, when two people love each other-

Pippin: Like me and Merry!

Merry: ?

Frodo: ……keep going

Boromir: They- they sleep together……

Pippin: We slept together!

Merry: Not like that! No we didn’t!

Pippin: You’re my baby daddy!

Merry: I’ll punch you in the mouth

Pippin: Not in front of the baby!

Merry: There is no baby!

Pippin: There is too a baby

Merry: I ain’t the daddy!

Pippin: We slept together Mer!

Merry: We slept in the same room

Pippin: And now I’m pregnant!

Merry: You are not fucking pregnant

Pippin: Look at him! Cussing at the mother of his child

Merry: I can’t stand you

Pippin: Then why’d you sleep with me?

Merry: It was a sleepover!

Pippin: I was on bottom, you were on top

Merry: Yeah, on fucking bunk beds

Pippin:

Merry:

Pippin: I’m keeping the baby

[sotwk]

Dandelions (Boromir x unnamed OC)

Moodboard gifted by the lovely @entishramblings

Summary: Boromir brings flowers to his lady love. 

Word count: 2k

Content: G-rated Romantic fluff, pining, unnamed love interest, shy, love-sick Captain of Gondor, little brother supporting big brother

Warnings: None 

To read on Ao3: Link

Dedication: For the 57% + 10% who answered this poll by @bored-artist and said they would love getting flowers:

Inspiration: This goes out especially to my friend @scyllas-revenge, whose anecdote about her childhood admirer immediately inspired me to write this. The flowers don't matter as much as the giver, and here is the flower-giving experience I think you should have.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Dandelions

Third Age 3015

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“Bring her some flowers.”

Faramir’s advice seemed helpful and practical enough at the time he offered it. But it was also something he just muttered hastily to Boromir as he helped the Steward's elder son slip away from the Citadel before dawn could rouse the other residents of the White Tower. Lord Denethor was expected to remain preoccupied that entire day, conducting councils and tours for the visiting delegation from Dol Amroth. But Faramir had also assured his brother that he would cover for him should anyone come inquiring about the Captain's whereabouts. 

Cloaked and hooded and bearing neither armor nor arms save for one dagger at his hip, Boromir rode his horse through the dark, winding streets of Minas Tirth and descended to the city’s bottom level. Flowers, flowers. The word tumbled around in his thoughts, but his mind could not fully conceive a plan to procure this particular item. Boromir had never visited a flower vendor in his life, although he knew stalls existed in the city markets. He could not even recall ever plucking wild-growing ones off the ground.

Or was it from trees? Shrubs? Where did beautiful flowers grow, and how could he hope to secretly obtain them if he did not know the answer?

He pondered on the matter so deeply that he barely noticed he had already reached the Great Gate, where he must face the night watch on duty before he could flee towards his day of freedom.

Dark eyes underneath a silver helm squinted up at Boromir’s face, showing recognition but registering no surprise. After a brief pause, nothing more than a cough left the sentry's lips. No names uttered, no interrogation, not even an order to lower his hood. The lead guard gave a signal to his fellow watchmen to open the great door and then stepped back, waving the Captain through the City Wall. 

Concerns over being stopped had never even crossed Boromir’s mind; not once in their shared lifetime had Faramir ever failed to deliver on a promise. 

And so out of the White City Boromir rode, driving his horse off the Gateway and galloping into the grassy fields of Pelennor. He headed north-east, traversing farmlands and cutting fresh trails through rough terrain just to forge the shortest possible route to his destination. 

To her. 

His heart thundered in competition with the pace of his horse’s hooves. Just conjuring her face in his mind, imagining how it would feel to stand within reaching distance of her, close enough to receive her smiles and be caressed by her sweet scent…

He shifted his weight forward and increased the pressure of his legs on his horse’s sides. The mare responded by surging forward with full vigor, as though charging into one of their many battles together, and Boromir made a silent promise to reward his faithful steed accordingly upon their arrival. 

Bring her flowers. Faramir’s parting advice hounded him throughout the ride, refusing to be dismissed as an optional gesture. His brother meant well, but the suggestion did little to bolster and plenty to shake Boromir’s confidence. The Captain-General of Minas Tirith, Heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, commanded plenty of admirable skills, but wooing ladies had never been one of them. At least not in ways considered customary, if his ignorance on gifting protocols was of any indication. Courting traditions were something he never considered worth taking the time to learn, since there were no women who motivated him enough to care about such frivolities.

And then he met her, in whom he found every motivation to start caring. Every reason to even continue being. Boromir had come face to face with a battle he could not rely on his sword or strength to conquer. This confused and frustrated him in ways that should have made him angry. Instead, he could not think of another time in his life when he had ever been happier. 

She was worth feeling like an idiot for. 

Halfway through his journey, he stopped by a small stream to give his hardworking horse some water and a brief rest. As he paced up and down the loamy bank, ruminating upon reunion scenarios and conversation topics in his head, Boromir's gaze drifted across the running waters. It idly scanned the open fields that stretched out all the way to the nearest farmhouse, located at least a mile off. Suddenly, his anxiety-ridden brain registered the sight of bright yellow dots scattered about the freshly sprung carpet of pale wild grass, bobbing merrily upon their long stalks with the passing breezes. 

Flowers! Boromir rushed forward eagerly, drawing his dagger to immediately start cutting up bunches and bunches of the yellow blooms, until he had enough to fill the clutch of his left hand. He produced a passably clean cloth from his saddle pack and used it to tie together the bundle of wildflowers, finally feeling relieved and mayhaps even a little proud of his victory. 

The rest of his journey passed with greater ease in the knowledge he would not be arriving empty-handed. The sun had completed its ascent into the cloudless azure sky as he approached the small farming village known simply as Northmere. Once a place of such meager consequence that the Captain of Gondor did not even know of its existence, it had become the most precious location outside of the White City to him before he even had a chance to set foot in it.

A straw-roofed cottage with a fenced-in front garden and a blue-painted door. She had told him exactly how to find her house, and there were not many around to choose from. Walking alongside his horse, Boromir crossed what seemed to be the market square, just a handful of shops to provide the locals with basic essentials.

One store keeper, a burly older man with flour-dusted arms and apron, came out to his doorway to watch the stranger pass through. He caught Boromir's gaze over the distance and simply nodded his head, perhaps even cracking a smile behind his bushy gray beard. Boromir suspected some other curious eyes tracked him from surrounding windows, but no further interactions were attempted.

He found the blue painted door towards the end of a long, worn dirt road that bisected the cluster of houses comprising most of the village. Like reaching mythical treasure at the end of a quest, it filled him with triumphant excitement to approach it. 

And nervousness. Valar, his hands never trembled this much clutching his sword as he faced down death on the battlefield. But there he stood at the pathwalk of the cheery cottage, unarmoured and weaponless, preparing to stand in the presence of his greatest weakness, the one who made him feel more vulnerable than any deadly foe from Mordor ever could. 

He felt a sudden, firm shove on his back that made him stumble slightly. He chuckled and reached over to pat his horse's neck; he had stood there frozen for so long that his friend felt the need to check on him. "Yes, yes, yes…" he muttered, half to himself. "I am going!"

"Boromir?"

His heart soared at the voice that spoke his name, a sound fairer than any birdsong, and he turned sharply in its direction, pulsing with anticipation from head to toe.

The image of her face had scarcely left his thoughts since they parted exactly one week past. But his memory was a lying, grasping fool that had done no justice to the vision that now stood before him. She stepped out of her little front garden and walked the short path to him, her ear-to-ear smile and sparkling eyes flooding Boromir with mutual joy, even though she could not possibly be as happy to see him as he was to finally gaze upon her. 

She had been tending her garden while waiting for his arrival; he noticed the potting soil that lingered on her slender hands and the smudges on the white apron over her skirt. Her cheeks bore the rosy flush of physical labor, and the long waves of her unpinned hair blew freely around her shoulders. She was so effortless in her natural grace, so wonderfully different from the prim and powdered ladies of Minas Tirith that his father regularly forced (or forced themselves) into his company. 

It still astonished Boromir how such beauty could have escaped his notice for so long, and he had praised Eru ever since for opening his eyes to Ioreth's young apprentice from the Houses of Healing. For all the times he had teased Faramir for burying his nose in books instead of looking at the world around him, it turned out he had been the one cursed with certain blindness all along. 

“You came,” she said softly, stopping tantalizingly short of his arm's reach. She stared up at him with open affection that warmed the Captain to his deepest fibers. "I had hoped for it, but I did not think you would be able to get away."

“I told you I would come, and nothing would have stopped me," Boromir said quickly, and perhaps too fervently. 

"I… I have missed…" Her voice failed her on the last word as shyness overpowered her excitement over his arrival. She ducked her head, hiding her blush behind her curtain of hair, as she twisted up the fabric of her apron between her jittery hands. 

"I just could not wait to see you again," Boromir said hoarsely. "I could not have borne a second longer without you."

"O-Oh. Y-You honor me, my lord." And the blushing maiden answered his abrupt confession with a polite curtsy.

Her sweetness and modesty crushed Boromir with a sense of unworthiness to even stand in her presence. He felt torn between a strange compulsion to fall to his knees, and an utterly improper desire to seize her and just hold her close against him. 

How did he get by a whole seven days away from her? And the more agonizing thought: how would he force himself to part from her again after this?

"Are… are those for…what are those for?"

Boromir stared blankly at the bundle of yellow flowers he clutched in his right hand, an overlong pause passing before he remembered their purpose. “These are for you,” he confirmed, reaching out with the offering. “I… I thought you would like them.”

In accepting the flowers, she stepped closer to decrease the distance that separated them, and her fingers grazed against his in the transfer. Boromir’s hand twitched as impulse rebelled against manners, and he very nearly made a greedy grab for her hand.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, gracing him with a gentle smile that was real beauty beyond comparison. By Eru, Boromir thought in sudden despair. What was he thinking coming to her with such a pathetic gift, so far below what she deserved?! For a maiden as gloriously fair as the sun itself, he should have brought the finest treasures from the most expensive shops in Minas Tirith, if not the very jewels from the coffers of the Steward. 

She held the posy up to her nose, sweeping the golden petals across her freckled cheeks and berry-pink lips, and Boromir felt overcome with a feverish desire to trade places with the flowers at that moment.

“It is nothing…” he mumbled weakly. 

She shook her head, her face at once firm and determined. “It is everything,” she corrected, raising her gaze to meet his with renewed courage. “You are everything.”

And with two more steps to eliminate the gap, she pressed herself against the warmth of his chest, tucking her head neatly underneath his chin, their bodies already a perfect fit for each other’s embrace. Boromir enveloped her in his arms, promising with all his strength that he would find some way to be worthy of this, of her, even if he had to scour all of Middle-earth for the right flower to profess just how deeply he had fallen in love with her.

Perhaps his wise little brother could help him again.

Tagged by request: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @undeniableadrenaline

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

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[eldest-sibling-tournament]

eldest sibling tournament

here is the bracket for the eldest sibling tournament!

since round one contains 32 matches, it will be split into two parts. the polls for round 1, part 1 will begin tomorrow, march 17th, at 11am EDT.

this post will be updated throughout the tournament with links to the polls! feel free to submit propaganda through asks/submissions/reblogs/tags; i'll try to post/rb all of it.

all polls can be found at #tournament poll

round 1, part 1 | round 1, part 2 | round 2 | round 3 | quarterfinals | semifinals | final round | bonus polls

full list of original matchups under the cut!

left side of bracket, top to bottom:

Sokka (Avatar: the Last Airbender) vs Kate Sharma (Bridgerton)

Dmitri Fyodorovich Karamazov (The Brothers Karamazov) vs Tina Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Jane Bennet (Pride and Prejudice) vs Robb Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones)

Raphael Hamato (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs Wendy Darling (Peter Pan)

Nani Pelekai (Lilo and Stitch) vs Meg Murry (A Wrinkle in Time)

Itachi Uchiha (Naruto) vs Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)

Meg March (Little Women) vs Jesse Cosay (Infinity Train)

Kendall Roy (Succession) vs Anthony Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

Declan Lynch (The Raven Cycle/The Dreamer Trilogy) vs Elphaba Thropp (Wicked)

Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things) vs Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney)

Candace Flynn (Phineas and Ferb) vs Gawain of Orkney (Arthuriana)

Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama (Mob Psycho 100) vs Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)

Jiang Yanli (Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed) vs Violet Parr (The Incredibles)

Boromir (Lord of the Rings) vs Bianca di Angelo (Percy Jackson and the Olympians)

Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock Holmes) vs Elsa (Frozen)

Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist) vs Tzeitl (Fiddler on the Roof)

right side of bracket, top to bottom:

Maedhros (The Silmarillion) vs Justin Russo (Wizards of Waverly Place)

Elektra (Oresteia) vs Louis de Pointe du Lac (Interview with the Vampire)

Buffy Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) vs Kai Smith (Ninjago)

Connor Roy (Succession) vs Callum (The Dragon Prince)

Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games) vs Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Sophie Hatter (Howl's Moving Castle) vs Cain (The Book of Genesis)

Rodrick Heffley (Diary of a Wimpy Kid) vs Jazz Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Violet Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events) vs Isabela Madrigal (Encanto)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) vs Rodya Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment)

Thor Odinson (The Marvel Cinematic Universe) vs Éponine Thénardier (Les Misérables)

Edyn Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) vs Maddie Buckley (9-1-1)

Fiona Gallagher (Shameless) vs Gregor Samsa (The Metamorphosis)

Vi (Arcane) vs Tadashi Hamada (Big Hero 6)

Peter Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia) vs Vera Rostova (War and Peace)

Mako (The Legend of Korra) vs Sarah Williams (Labyrinth)

Dick Grayson (DC Comics) vs Julie Molina (Julie and the Phantoms)

[ass-deep-in-demons]

Boromir's adventures in New Zeland

screens and transcript from the Reunited Apart: LotR edition

Sean Astin: The first time Elijah and I met Sean, we were in Queenstown and there was a big flood and they were building sets on the squash court to try and find some way to uh…

Peter Jackson: As soon as somebody gets remotely boring it just freezes.

Sean Astin: The point is we were playing a video game and Sean Bean's character was 006 and I shot 006 in the head on screen with a perfectly photo-real likeness of Sean and then Sean walked right by afterwards.

Peter Jackson: ... The best story about that flood was that everyone was driving from the top of the South Island to the bottom to shoot, and some people were flying and some people were driving and Orlando and Sean Bean were in a car with Bridget Bourke, our production coordinator, and we were checking in with them to see what they were about.

Peter Jackson: It's a very remote part of the country (...), but what happened is the car that Orlando and Sean were driving over a mountain and they come around a corner and it's got a huge slip, you know, that the hillside's falling down, 'cause it was a torrential storm. They had to turn around to head back and do this long detour, they go around the next corner and it... the landslide was in front of them. They thought they'd actually left the landslide behind them! Okay so they were now stuck between two landslides in the remotest part of New Zeland, by themselves. There's an old lady living by herself in the house, so she invites them in for a cup of tea and they end up staying with her for about three days. Is that right?

Orlando Bloom: It was sort of like that. Okay, what happened was we got to a gas station, they said well... we were stuck between two roadslides and they said well, we've got some lodges accomodation, like backpackers' accomodation… And the first thing, the frist thing Sean got was...

Orlando Bloom: OH NO, NO, WE GOT MONEY! WE CAN PAY. So we had this one room and I remember Sean had the bedroom, I slept on the couch with Bridget in the same room. And then the whole crazy thing about this story though for Sean is that he hates to fly. Like literally, we had to take a helicopter to get to work and I remember sitting next to Sean in this helicopter going up over the...

Orlando Bloom: ... we had to go up over the [inaudible] to get to Queenstown and his hand on my knee, I will never forget it. It was like white knuckle… it was like a drop of only white and nothing…

Peter Jackson: ... It was because of that, that when we within a week or so we had a scene that we all had to be helicoptered up to this lake and it was quite high in the mountains, and Sean just said...

Peter Jackson: Look, I can't do it. I'll come very, very early, I'll get on me gear or borrow me gear and I'll start to climb. Just on foot. We were flying up and I looked down and there's this vast, vast cliff, and on the mountain I could see Sean, like a human fly, climbing up.

Elijah Wood: [hysterical laughter]

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

[nelladlaen]

save me exceedingly stupid light-up Aragorn goblet……….. exceedingly stupid light-up Aragorn goblet save me……….

[mistergandalf]

THE ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO BRACKET IS COMPLETE!

Your winner is:

Samwise Gamgee

Congratulations to our dear Sam! And congratulations to our runner up with 49% of the vote: Frodo Baggins! While there was a desperate effort by many (myself included) to get an even 50/50 vote, the Sam love was too strong. He is, officially, the Ultimate Tolkien Blorbo.

In the final round, 2,090 of you voted for Sam, and 2,008 of you voted for Frodo. That’s pretty dang close, to be honest!

Here’s how the brackets went down in the end:

Congratulations to all contestants. All of these characters are the Ultimate Tolkien Blorbo to some of us, so they’re all winners in the end.

If you’re interested in analytics from the ENTIRE bracket, click that readmore below! I love spreadsheets, so I kept stats the entire time. Lots of top (or bottom) ten lists :)

Who got the most votes overall?

The top ten characters who received the most votes TOTAL (not weighted for how many polls they were in) are:

Samwise Gamgee (11,318)

Peregrin Took (9,760)

Frodo Baggins (9,502)

Éowyn (7,795)

Meriadoc Brandybuck (4,870)

Faramir (4,752)

Aragorn (4,406)

Boromir (4,269)

Legolas (3,814)

Gimli (3,302)

Who received the highest average votes?

THIS is the interesting one to me—the average per poll! My favorite bit in here is that Éowyn and Merry DID tie here…

Samwise Gamgee (1,886)

Frodo Baggins (1,357)

Peregrin Took (1,220)

Éowyn AND Meriadoc Brandybuck (974)

Faramir (950)

Gimli (826)

Bilbo Baggins (821)

Elrond Peredhel (782)

Legolas Greenleaf (763)

Aragorn (734)

Who got the least votes overall?

Our bottom ten contenders, eliminated too soon, are the following. Since this list and the average list are exactly the same, but in a slightly different order, I’ve arranged them by average votes and given you both numbers:

Dwalin (87 average AND total; eliminated and never placed on the secondary bracket)

Elladan & Elrohir (138 average, 276 total)

Celegorm (197 average, 394 total)

Morgoth/Melkor (199 average, 398 total)

Bard the Bowman (211 average, 421 total)

Kíli (314 average, 627 total)

Sauron (349 average, 1,047 total)

Galadriel (356 average, 711 total)

Glorfindel (366 average, 1,097 total)

Fingon (389 average, 778 total)

Bracket stats

Here are some numbers I personally find interesting. Maybe you will, too.

Most votes in one round: Round One, with 21,554 votes cast. Makes sense, since everyone was on the bracket still.

Highest participation per poll in one round: Round Five, with 4,278 votes cast for the primary Frodo vs. Sam vote.

Least votes in one round: Round Eight (Second Chance Bracket), which was Pippin vs. Éowyn, only got 714 votes total. It was also the least participation per poll per round.

Average total number of votes per character (entire bracket): 2,783

Average number of votes per character (average per round): 594

Anyway, that was fun! Here’s the entire bracket stats document for your viewing pleasure, if you’re a spreadsheet nerd like me.

Thank you everyone for your participation in this bracket!! It was super fun to host, and tbh I would do it again. If you’d like to see another bracket like this, let me know! Until then, enjoy my regularly scheduled blog nonsense :)

[lotr-sesa]

TWO WEEKS until the 2023 Lord of the Rings Secret Santa claiming and posting deadline!

There are now TWO WEEKS left to get those fills in! Claiming will run all the way until the posting deadline on December 31st.

Currently, just over half the prompts have been claimed. Our goal is to make sure every prompter gets at least one of their prompts filled. Have a look and see if you can help us out, or reblog this post as a signal boost. We'd love to see all the prompts filled in honour of the 20th anniversary! ❤️

Here are prompts still waiting for some love:

There's gen prompts for:

Poppy & Nori from Rings of Power

Dain Ironfoot -focused fic

time-travelling Gandalf

Broader ensemble prompts for both Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship, Third Age Dunedain) and The Silmarillion (almost any character).

Romance/pairing (varying ratings) prompts:

Bronwyn/Arondir from Rings of Power (this one an AU prompt)

Legolas/Imrahil (either m/m or gen)

Fingolfin/Maglor (modern AUs possible)

Galadriel/Sauron

Caranthir/Caranthir's Wife/Haleth

Boromir/Faramir

There are also some kinky prompts if that's your cup of tea:

Dom Arwen

two different prompts with bottom Melkor (AU and First Age)

You can find all the prompts HERE, as the prompt meme format doesn't allow for linking to individual prompts. :(

If you are new to the format, AO3 has a helpful FAQ here.

This year's timeline (2023):

Prompt Posting: November 1st to 30th.

Claiming: December 1st to 31st.

Collection Open for Posting: December 1st to 31st.

All Fills Due: December 31st 2023.

The Rules (2023):

You will be able to post up to 2 prompts between November 1st and 30th, and we will do our best to make sure at least one of your prompts is filled.

Your fill is due December 31st 11:59 pm Pacific Time (if you want a countdown timer to fret over, there's one here). Please post it to AO3 (and nowhere else, until January 3rd).

As a matter of fairness, please make your story more than 750 words (1000 is better).

Once claiming has opened, please only claim a prompt if you plan on actually fulfilling your end of the bargain, and please only claim one prompt at a time. After you have completed your fill, you may claim a new one.

Claiming a prompt: use the "Claim" button next to the prompt you want to claim. (You can find open prompts under "Prompts" in the sidebar.) Several people can claim the same prompt. You can also claim a prompt without having submitted any of your own.

It's a good idea to follow us here on Tumblr or join the Dreamwidth community so you can keep track of any admin posts. Have fun -- and spread the word!

[airyairyaucontraire]

As I continue with the LOTR audiobooks I’m struck by how different the sense of pace and urgency is from the movies. We know, of course, that a movie is different from a book and can simply and directly show us things that an author may need a few paragraphs to describe, also events in the plot may be brought closer together or be combined or dropped altogether, and dialogue generally needs to be more concise. I think I’m allowing sufficiently for that, but still.

With the abduction of Merry and Pippin, surely every minute counts in terms of the trail growing cold or the orcs reaching their destination, yet still, after caring for Boromir’s body and giving him the best funeral they can under the circumstances* (as they do in the movie, it’s just that it’s elided between scenes while in the book we have the full description, including a touching detail, that they made a pillow for his head from his folded Lothlorien cloak and combed his hair, because it’s such a human**thing that even knowing our friend or relative won’t feel it and doesn’t need it, we need to make sure they would be comfortable and they look nice) after setting his boat loose to go over the falls, because Lord of the Rings is a musical, they’re singing a song they must have improvised just now - not just Boromir’s favourite song if they knew it, or a pre-existing Gondorian folk song that seems fitting, but a new original song about missing Boromir, because not only does it have his name in it, it has pretty specific references to the geography of his journey and so forth.

The only way that makes sense is if you bear in mind that Lord of the Rings is a musical.

Also, I generally don’t harp on differences between the books and movies, but I would like to note that in the book Boromir is still alive, in his last moments, to feel Aragorn hold his hand and kiss his forehead, and I prefer that version.

Oh! Also Andy Serkis did come up with better voices for Elrond and Legolas than the rather irritating wispy fairy ones he did for the earlier elves. They still have a trace of the wispiness and a certain rhythm to their speech that’s distinctively elvish, and I think that was a good way to handle it. I guess Glorfindel and that dude the hobbits met on the way out of the Shire just have stronger accents when they speak the common language? I’ll let it go at that.

I bet he was glad Tolkien wrote that Galadriel had an unusually deep voice for a woman.

* I don’t blame them for the choice they made, they discuss different options but conclude that with no shovels to dig a grave and not enough rocks suitable to make a cairn over his body, the river is their best option. However, I’ve never liked the thought that, after going over the waterfall where the boat would break up at the bottom, what actually became of Boromir’s body was no different from if they’d just thrown him in. He would bloat and float and so forth. Yucky. Therefore I decided today that there was a huge fish (maybe a sturgeon) swimming not far down the Anduin and it ate him up in one go while he was still fresh. I think that’s more dignified.

**Here I’ll use the more expansive Ryoko Kui definition of human because I’m not excluding elves or dwarves (or indeed hobbits) from feeling this way. Also, I warmly recommend the New Zealand TV series The Casketeers.