#forth eorlingas

[ridingforrohan]

I painted my horse in Rohirrim tack because I think he would look cute 🥰

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

Yes, yes, Sean Bean was afraid of the helicopter and Ian McKellan hated Elijah Wood’s music choices in the makeup trailer and Billy Boyd had to go to the emergency dentist in full hobbit get-up, but my absolute favorite behind-the-scenes tidbit from the LOTR movies is that half the riders of Rohan were actually women. A whole army full of Dernhelms, it just couldn’t be more *chef’s kiss*.

[autistook]

'Forth Eorlingas!'

[charlyricco]

"For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning."

Rest in Peace, Bernard Hill

Art: Éowyn on Theoden's grave by Anato Finnstark

[hotstreak2k3]

RIP Bernard Hill ( 1944 - 2024) 🕊️

[dumb4ssfrog]

Currently rewatching the ride of the Rohirrim after the sad news of Bernard Hill’s passing.

This scene was always one of my favourite. I had the chance to watch it in a movie theater with a real orchestra a few months ago and I still get goosebumps whenever I remember it.

Rest in peace, Bernard Hill.

[enbycrip]

Me: “Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!

Dire deeds awake: dark is it eastward.

Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!

Forth Eorlingas!

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!

Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!

Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,

a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!”

My OH: ”…hard time getting up, love?”

Me: “Bringing out the big guns!”

[ridingforrohan]

Several Sentences Sunday

@frodothefair tagged me in this a week or two ago and I've been in a bit of a creative slump, but here's a short excerpt from my long fic The Tenth Queen of Rohan. Read it in full here!

Fréaláf leans in and kisses her, “The only person the king must answer to is his wife.”

“Is that so?” Halloth asks with a grin. 

“It is. Wear the green dress you had on earlier, I’ll go make small talk with your mother until her guests arrive.” He offers.

Halloth’s smile softens, “Oh you don’t have to do that. Stay here and keep me company.”

“I do, I’m going to tell her how much I like what you’re wearing and…” He leans in closer, “Are you wearing scent?”

“It’s common in Gondor, even on men. Mostly because they don’t bathe nearly as often as those in Rohan do. Did I ever mention how much I like that about you? I like having a man who will wash of his own volition as often as he can instead of trying to mask the smell of old sweat and worse with perfumes.” Halloth explains. 

“I was going to say I like it, but that is good to know. I take it this is not common knowledge amongst the women of Gondor?” Fréaláf asks. 

“No, otherwise more of us would go hunting for a husband in Rohan.”

Fréaláf lets out a little huff of amusement at that and gently moves her hair out of the way to plant a kiss on her neck. His other hand settles on her thigh and Halloth begrudgingly pushes him away, “Don’t. If you get me hot before I have to sit through dinner beside my mother, you had better be prepared to answer for your crimes later.”

He leans in close again, “I would be happy to.”

Halloth sighs, though her annoyance is mostly feigned. She takes his face in her hands, “I think she may have had a point about that dress though. I do have more muscular shoulders than most women.”

“Not in Rohan,” Fréaláf is quick to correct. He turns his head to kiss her palm and then her wrist, “I like everything about how you look, especially when you forsake the dresses altogether.”

“The Rohirrim like a broad shouldered woman?”

“You aren’t that broad shouldered, not so much it looks odd anyways. My people prize women who look as though they can carry a shield. Besides, you would never say this about Héra. Don’t let your mother get to you.”

She considers this and smiles, “You are incredibly sweet.”

“I try.”

He pulls away and goes to the chest Halloth had upended in her attempts to dress properly. The sea green dress is still folded and he shakes it out, feeling the fabric as it falls open. 

“What sort of cloth is this?” He asks. 

Halloth looks, “Oh, it’s silk. Khamis’s wife made it for me.”

“What is it made of?”

Halloth smiles, “Fiber made by worms in the far east.”

Fréaláf examines the cloth in his hands, “Worms?”

“Their cocoons. Khamis makes a fortune importing the cloth into Gondor. It’s very fashionable in Minas Tirith,” Halloth explains.

“Ah…how strange. Though it is beautiful,” he says coming to Halloth to help her into it. 

She lifts her arms and he slips it over her head, then fastens the laces in the back. Halloth selects a girdle embroidered with gold detail which he helps her with as well. He lifts the skirt so it fans out slightly, “Your mother cannot find fault with this.”

He likes how the fine fabric flows over every curve of her body and runs his hand from her side to her hip, “Bring this with you to Rohan.”

“Oh you are that fond of it?” Halloth teases.

“I’m fond of you,” He offers.

“Laying it on rather thick, aren’t you? Fine, go talk with my mother. See if you can put her in a better mood than when I left her.” Halloth relents. 

Tagging @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras , @celeluwhenfics and @lady-of-ithilien as well as anyone else who is interested to share their writing!

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

Somehow it’s been a whole year since Bernard Hill died. Movie Théoden forever — hail!

[bikananjarrus]

RIDE OF THE ROHIRRIM LET'S FUCKING GO

[ridingforrohan]

Obliged to reblog the lady of the Riddermark when she graces my dash.

Eowyn by Julliane

[johnnyebyrne1101]

[ridingforrohan]

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras this seemed necessary.

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

On this, the day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, I always like to revisit the Song of the Mounds of Mundburg, where we find the tribute not just to the great and powerful fallen, like Théoden, but to my personal favorites — the minor characters and bit players, less in glory and renown but not in courage or worth.

Battles are won not just by an Aragorn and a Gandalf and an Éomer, but also by a young Rohirrim who died carrying the banner that led his people forward or a pair of Gondorian brothers who took on a whole mûmak with just their bows and paid the price. Their names are also worth remembrance and honor and, indeed, a song.

**********

— Return of the King, chapter 6

**********

Feel free to shout out your obscure favorite if you have one! As always, my heart is first and foremost with Guthláf and his brave countrymen Dúnhere and Grimbold. ♥️🐎🗡️

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Forth Eorlingas!

"A sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"

Artist: Filipe Pagliuso TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[deuterosapiens]

We are in the last stretch of Heartsong. Developments are happening, bonds are being reforged. Emotions are emoting.

Thanks Gordo, I obviously needed feelings today.

It's been a fair few days. Between work and Link's Awakening (and a healthy desire to keep my emotions locked away like a Pixar protagonist), I have neglected the thing. But with a lovely copy of Brothersong within arm's reach, I have no excuse but to conclude the thing, so conclude we must!

What I want to flash on right now are the developments that have transpired since I read last: Shannon Wells is back, yay! Well, not really. This was actually kind of upsetting. But it was the necessary catalyst for Elizabeth to take matters into her own hands, and rather actively declare war.

Carter, my sweet, beautiful idiot. This wolf has all but declared his undying love for you. Figure out your shit!

Okay, so there's a game which I will never admit to anyone I know IRL that I've played called Boyfriend Dungeon. There's an asexual pairing that's literally just a cat who can transform into a pair of brass knuckles; there's nothing even remotely romantic or sexualized about it. That's Carter and this damn wolf.

Who am I kidding? There will be some mystical moon magic which allows the Timber wolf to shift back, and then Carter will be in for the drama of his life. Will Gordo make a good brother? Who can say, certainly not I.

I seem to be talking about this one thing more than the other stuff going on, but I would like to acknowledge that, despite not mentioning it in any of my previous posts, I knew damn well what this reveal would reveal. Let's look at the evidence: the Wolf shows up out of nowhere accompanying the hunters in Ravensong and is clearly a werewolf who's stuck in his shift. At the end of Ravensong, Livingstone mentions his other son and wanting him back. It's clear that Robbie isn't the Son, so it's either someone we haven't seen before, or someone we have who either doesn't know it, or can't say it. The dominoes fall so neatly into place!

What is it about Kelly and haircuts? Does he have some sort of incredible haircut magic or something? Both on-page depictions of him giving someone a haircut (here, with Robbie, and in Ravensong with Gordo) have apparently been emotionally transcendent experiences.

So, in less than a hundred pages (and, I guess technically, a final book) we have a war to wage. Onward, I say! Forth Heortesang! Ere the Sun Rises!