#i will stand for hero boromir | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sindar-princeling · 2 years

Text

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.

3K notes · View notes

carlandrea · 2 years

Text

Why Legolas Greenleaf was Chosen for the Fellowship of the Ring

First, Why Not Glorfindel, (with Glorfindel standing in for, in general, any ancient heroes who might be hanging around Rivendell)

This is a stealth mission. The first priority should not be Heroics, which, if anything goes well, should not be necessary. It would have been useful to have Glorfindel when they encountered, for example, the Balrog, but ideally, they would not have encountered a balrog

So then, if you're not expecting to use Heroics, than having someone that much more powerful than the rest of the party is actually a massive liability. If Legolas fell victim to the ring, then Aragorn and Boromir could take him out. If Glorfindel was sent on the mission and tried to take the ring, then everyone else is kind of just fucked. He's Glorfindel. It's the same reason none of the people Frodo offers the ring to takes it. (Gandalf is mildly a complication for this point but like Gandalf just really needs to be here. We need Gandalf.)

Could Gandalf fight Glorfindel? idk. I feel like a redditor just asking the question. it wouldn't be good for anyone if he did, that's for fucking sure

Why Legolas Specifically

He's good at stealth. He's a good scout. He's cheerful and not prone to despair. He's a good fit for this kind of mission

As a Mirkwood elf, he does not have the same vested personal interest in the Three surviving that a Rivendell or Lothlorien elf might have. He is not going on a specific quest to destroy his own home, which would be the kind of thing the Ring would love to latch on to.

Also, as a Silvan elf, his people mildly have a much better track record with the cursed shinies than like. the high elves. the wise. et fucking cetera (I am not open to corrections as to whether Legolas is a silvan elf <3)

But also—specifically—Legolas is someone who is very used to creeping dread and despair, and he's still Like That. He's still Legolas. He's still weird and cheerful and excited about trees. My first point is that he's not prone to despair, and I just want to stress that he has been under this kind of pressure—under the creeping shadow—for his entire life.

he's not tired in the way that so many elves are

Also—

I made another short post about this, and I got this response:

#personally I've always thought it's because #he's actually from one of the places right now #where Men Dwarves and Elves all talk to each other#whereas an elf from Rivendell or Loth Lorien may be very wise and learn'd in what you need to know to be considered learn'd #but have they spoken to someone who isn't of their kin in the last thousand years? #have they experience traveling paths unknown to them and finding their way? #can they hear an insult and try to reach through cultural differences? #would they be able to walk into a texmex restuarant for the first time and go 'oh it's spelled t-a-c-o gotcha CHOMP mmm' #(I suspect not)

(tags by @fairy-anon-godmother)

Which I really agree with!!

In Conclusion:

My boy was perfect for this quest :) He's cheerful, he's young, and he's exactly what the fellowship needs in their elf

#lotr #Legolas #lotr newsletter spoilers

3K notes · View notes

lesbiansforboromir · 1 year

Text

Iconic elements of Film!Boromir's character that everyone remembers;

Very into Aragorn, has multiple meaningful scenes with him where he is clearly disarmed, awed, unnerved and yet eager for his approval and companionship. His acceptance of Aragorn's right to the kingship is treated as a vital part of his character arc and even his last words before his death are entirely about Aragorn.

Awkward, often stalling or stumbling over his words, says things that leave uncomfortable silences and often makes loud declarations of intent, very earnest in all his mannerisms and always says everything in a guileless way. Very upfront and open about his emotions, to the point of making Aragorn uncomfortable in his attempts to connect with him about his fear for Gondor's safety and his own inner turmoil surrounding his father.

Immediately ring-obsessed. He argues with Elrond about the Ring's usage and clearly is not swayed by further arguments, in fact is sent by his father specifically to get the ring and so is technically a traitorous element in the fellowship from day one. Eagerly ensures he has a place in the fellowship at the Council of Elrond and is blatantly suspicious with his treatment of both Frodo and the Ring from then on. No one in the fellowship trusts him and for good reason.

Kinda a liability! Doesn't really offer anything to the Fellowship other than another sword arm, and one that seems sub-par in comparison to his comrades considering his underestimation of the Hobbits and the multiple times he has to be saved in Moria. Has no real expertise or wisdom to offer, barring obvious declarations like 'this will be the death of the hobbits'. Indeed the one moment of apparent unique wisdom he offers 'one cannot simply walk into mordor' is so widely viewed as foolish advice that it's one of the most enduring memes of the internet to date. Only has one moment of apparent skill in his final stand against the Uruks where he kills about 5 by himself before he is hit by 3 arrows and rendered helpless. Very much characterised as 'the normal guy' and 'the himbo'.

Has a nice, supportive and loving relationship with Faramir, his little brother that looks up to him adoringly and with a sense that he could never measure up to Boromir and that Boromir is his better. Protective of faramir.

Hah that was fun and now, completely unrelated, here are TRUE AND IMPORTANT FACTS ABOUT BOOK!BOROMIR!!

Has one (1) line of dialogue about Aragorn and his kingship that essentially reads 'Well I don't care about Kings but if mythic heroes from legend could come and help my people we'd be grateful (press x to doubt)' and then he NEVER! VOICES A SINGLE OTHER OPINION ABOUT ARAGORN! FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. This includes his very last words which don't mention Aragorn or the Kingship once.

Clear-spoken! Makes concise speeches full of relevant and important information when in an official capacity. Always has a tone of well-meaning half-humourous sarcasm, making casual and comfortable jokes at his own expense or sometimes lightly teasing his fellows. Otherwise restrains his disagreements to darkly humourous complaints, strained and weary reactions or clear unemotional declarations of his concerns depending upon the recipient. Takes the phrase 'you'll have to pry my feelings from my cold dead hands' entirely literally, NEVER reveals the true extent of his internal struggles until the moment he is literally dying. In fact is entirely silent whilst Aragorn is asked to describe Gondor and waxes so lyrical he doesn't even notice Boromir get up and leave.

Asks one (1) clarifying question at the Council of Elrond about why they aren't using the ring, accepts the answer entirely and never mentions it again UNTIL Galadriel tempts him with it in Lothlorien. Doesn't even WANT to go on the fellowship and is more dragged along by Aragorn with the pretext that 'Gondor is on the way to Mordor so we'll tag along.' Is utterly trustworthy and has no ulterior motive in arriving in Rivendell other than his search for an answer to his prophetic dream. In fact his whole behaviour and personality changes immediately after Galadriel's mental interrogation and he BECOMES awkward, unnerving and unsure in his speech all of a sudden.

Has a WEALTH of knowledge, experience and personal skill that he uses to save the fellowship multiple times. Saves them all from freezing to death on Caradhras through his preparedness, his arguing with Gandalf and his personal durability. Hacks the head off wargs when they are attacked in the night. Remains lucid whilst the fellowship is paralyzed with fear by the Balrog and stalls it's approach using his horn to allow them time to flee. Fights alongside Aragorn at every opportunity, including charging with him at the Balrog as Gandalf is fighting it. And not only that, he regularly is proven right in his advice (that is rarely heeded) and is well informed on both his own peoples history and Rohan's position, even against Gandalf and Aragorn's doubt of their character. Actually saves Merry and Pippin initially from the Northern orcs whom he drives away entirely before he begins taking them back to the others, is only stalled when they are ambushed by Uruk-Hai. Continues to fight on even with far more than three arrows in him and actually yanks a few out before collapsing against the tree. Definitely not a normal guy, nor a himbo, just exceptional in a more mundane way than everyone else in the fellowship (except the Hobbits).

Never mentions his brother a single time, somehow got him to stand and defend the bridge of osgiliath with him whilst knowing that it would likely kill them both so not all that protective. Faramir meanwhile cannot say a single uncomplicatedly complimentary thing about his brother and in fact cannot stop telling Frodo (a man he has imprisoned for half a day), about what a stupid, reckless and prideful man Boromir was and how he's far better in every single way.

WOW HAHA ISN'T THAT INTERESTING! COOL! Book Boromir is my favourite character by the way haha I'm suffering incomprehensible horrors :)

#boromir #text post #erran vs tolkien #erran vs peter jackson #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings

1K notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

Text

One of the most striking and consistent features of Tolkien’s works is that the people who think they’re the hero of the story never are.

In The Hobbit, Thorin & Company (less Bilbo, who feels lost and out of place continually) think they’re the heroes of a story where they kill Smaug and regain their kingdom and treasure - and then Smaug is killed by Bard, a character who isn’t even introduced until the moment of Smaug’s attack. And Thorin decides that the person responsible for the death of Smaug, without whom Thorin would have no treasure and also be dead, is his enemy. Self-appointed heroes tend not to like it when someone else displaces them from their role in the story.

In The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion, the pattern recurs again and again and again, both with some very sympathetic characters and some outright villainous ones. We see it in characters who are jealous for prominence and position, but also in some who mean well and have concluded that all the burden of saving/protecting the world lies upon them. The common thread is the conviction that the world will only be saved if people do what the self-appointed hero wants, how they want it, when they want it, and - in the most severe cases - only if they specifically follow and offer their support to the hero in doing it. If someone isn’t backing up the hero, they are assumed to be not contributing.

Boromir: “those who shelter behind us give us praise…much praise but little help.” ‘Doom’ he interprets as “the doom of Minas Tirith.” And, later, when the Ring has gained more hold on him: “How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!”

And Denethor: “Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men’s purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor.” Later falling to, “I will not step down to be the dotard chamberlain of an upstart!”

Neither of them are fundamentally ill-meaning; both of them fall prey to the idea that they are the world’s only hope of standing against Sauron, and break under that burden.

Less well-meaning, but nonetheless only gradually corrupted until near the end, is Saruman: “hindered rather than helped by pur weak or idle friends”. Again, he percieves himself as the only chance of defeating - or controlling/manipulating - Sauron.

And more cases in The Silmarillion, of characters who have determined that they are the hero and following their lead is the contribution that counts. Fëanor and his following, and indeed the Noldor in general, going to Middle-earth to overthrow Morgoth, and deciding that anyone who does not back them is idle or cowardly or traitorous. Túrin, who again and again insists that if you are not doing things the way Túrin wants, you are not doing anything. Watch in particular for the repeated theme that dissent=cowardice.

Fëanor: “Say farewell to ease! Say farewell to the weak!…Let the cowards keep this city!” And “If Fëanor cannot overthrow Morgoth, at least he delays not to assail him, and sits not idle in grief.” And “fainthearted loiterers.” And “needless baggage on the road.” It is worth recalling that the Valar are not as idle as Fëanor thinks, and their largest contribution prior to the War of Wrath - the creation of the Sun - is a major blow to Morgoth, and orcs dread and shun the Sun through the whole First Age and after.

Túrin: When Beleg questions the effectiveness of his strategy: “I will be the captain of my own host, and if I fall, then I fall. Here I stand in the path of Morgoth, and while I so stand he cannot use the southward road. For that in Nargothrond there should be some thanks; and even help with needful things.” This does not acknowledge that the ability of Morgoth’s armies to come south in force is itself a consequence of Beleg leaving Doriath to aid Túrin; prior to that, Doriath had held Dimbar and kept the orcs back.[1] So Túrin is claiming prime credit for solving a problem that he has, in effect, caused. Then in Nargothrond, to Gwindor: “And do those that you speak of love such skulkers in the woods?” And to Gelmir and Arminas: “runagate…get you back to the safe shores of the sea.” (It is worth noting that here, as well as when Fëanor calls the Noldor who do not want to return to Middle-earth cowards, the narrative observes outright that such accusations are false.) And then to Aerin, who has a bravery he could never imagine and cannot comprehend: “A faint heart is yours, Aerin Indor’s daughter…you were made for a kinder world.”

I recognize that Túrin is a complex character, as are most of the others I have mentioned. My point here is that there is a consistent thread running through Tolkien’s works, that however well-meaning these attitudes may be, they are ultimately destructive.

The great victories come from characters with wholly other attitudes. The ones who don’t think that they are the one hero who can or has to fix everything; who look at insurmountable perils and say this is too big for me, but I will do what I can. And those who recognize that they play one part among many, and not the most important one. That is Frodo and Sam; that is Merry and Pippin. That is Legolas and Gimli, who, standing in Helm’s Deep awaiting battle, recognize that their own peoples far away the same dangers, and they are not the only ones fighting. This is Aragorn, who uses the hero-delusion as a façade to trick Sauron, walking into a trap on the slim hope that it may aid Frodo. This is Beren and Lúthien, who say this is beyond me and I don’t know what I’m doing, but for the sake of the one I love I must try, and succeed because of that. This is Tuor, who gets destiny thrust upon him despite - perhaps because of - the fact that he is not looking for it. This is Elrond, who plays a supporting role in every conflict he is placed in, who aids and shelters and advises and heals and does not rule.

It is entirely fitting that the man who wrote “the medievals were only too right in taking nolo episcopari as the best reason a man could give to others for making him a bishop” wrote stories enshrining the idea that nolo heros was the best qualification for being a hero. And likewise perfectly fitting that the temptation offered by the Ring - to people of essential decency - is not deliberate, selfish despotism, but the exact conviction or attitude or temptation described above: you’re the hero, you’re the one who can fix everything. “For the way of the Ring to my heart is pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good.” “In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen” - and Sam echoing in plainer language Galadriel’s temptation - “You’d put things to rights…You’d make some folk pay for their dirty work” - and Galadriel recognizing the deception of the temptation - “That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas!” Boromir’s vision of armies flocking to his banner, and Sam’s of “Samwise the strong, Hero of the Age.” And, at the end, it fits with with Tolkien’s description of Sauron - the temptation that the Ring is offering to these good characters is the very temptation that Sauron himself initially fell to, the desire to fix everything, make everything work properly.

Tolkien’s conception of the real hero, rather than the self-appointed one, echoes at last the Ainulindalë and the Valar: the idea that creation and shaping and changing the world are fundamentally a collaborative effort, born of and enriched by the visions and contributions of many people, not by some static programme.

[1] The Narn mentions that while Beleg searches for Túrin the first time Dimbar is overrun by orcs, who are then able to reach to the east of Brethil, which they had not before. When Beleg returns to Dimbar the orcs are driven back; but when he joins Túrin at Amon Rudh, Dimbar is taken and the orcs come south again.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #thorin #boromir #denethor #feanor #túrin #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #beren #lúthien #elrond #galadriel #gandalf #sauron

1K notes · View notes

meadowsofmay · 11 months

Text

today my emoticonal coping mechanism stumbled me upon thinking about middle earth's father figures, found fathers and real fathers. me, who have always wanted my father back to my family which was not possible due to my parents splitting and who could only see him at weekends because of work and school, is thinking about elrond and thranduil and bard and thorin and theoden and even aragorn and boromir who clearly became father/uncle figures for hobbits. i am thinking about them.

about elrond who went through so much and yet, he raised elladan and elrohir into great and proud, stong elves, who cared for estel even though he was his adopted son and was ready to sacrifice alot for his only daughter. he just wanted a happy family, he wanted to protect them all under the roof of the last homely house but wasn't able as they all picked their own fates.

about thranduil who really wanted to protect his son after losing every other dear to his heart in the battle. but he got so overwhelmed with the grief that he almost lost legolas in the worst way possible — he lost the trust his son had in him as in his parent.

i am thinking about bard who raised his daughters and a son alone in the cold, damp town, carrying a burden of a failed hero in the heart and people's hero on the face. but all he ever wanted is to keep his children in his arms safe and sound.

and about thorin who became fili and kili's big, strong, role model father-figure that they looked up to and followed almost blindly because they believed in what thorin believed. they wanted to stand on the same ground thorin stood. they wanted to be by his side when thorin achieved what he set his mind to because thorin raised them well. he raised them as warriors and good, proud dwarves. even in the exile they should have known that they are powerful and thorin did his best to implant that.

about theoden too — who lost his son but still kept love for his nephew and niece. he fostered them under his wing, trusted them unconditionally and these kids loved him to the ends of the earth. he was ready to give eowyn the throne — she was ready to sacrifice herself to protect him in battle. they were one of the biggest joys to his heart. they loved him.

boromir got to experience what it is like to be a father he and his younger brother never had — he watched for years as his father was picking favourites and being dishearteningly rude towards the one he loved the most in this world. boromir saw these young, small, unprepared for war hobbits and wanted to give them at least a piece of good memory from the trip that was about to become terrible and fateful.

and aragorn. sweet, soft-spoken, kind aragorn who was raised by elves and had a heart of a human. he was such a protective, caring character — the way he treated frodo like he is his son that aragorn wanted to save from the burden, — i was convinced from the moment he started talking he is going to be an amazing father one day. i fucking trusted him.

i am thinking about them tonight. it's not a good night but these thoughts help to get through.

114 notes · View notes

mimilind · 6 months

Text

Stranger of the Falls - Part 7

Pairing: Boromir x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 3900

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

※※※

7. Free

More days passed. You went on with your work, checking on Maja’s little sister and her mother, changing the bandages of an old injury on one of the returning men, seeing the elderly and telling them the good news about the war. You withheld the bad news about the decoy attack and the very slim chance of ever beating the Dark Lord.

At least Cair Andros was free; you need not worry about orc attacks any longer, nor keep nightly watches.

You saw Boromir sometimes but only exchanged brief nods. He kept training Svarten, and then a few foals Vidar wanted broken in. But most often you saw him standing at the outskirts of the village, leaning on his cane, eyes set on the eastern sky.

He was looking at Mordor.

One day you gathered your courage and joined him. “How are you?”

He gave his crooked grin without taking his eyes away from the horizon. “Fine.”

“How is your chest? Still healing nicely? No tightness of the skin?”

“No. Do not trouble yourself; I really am well.”

“And the mobility on your right side?” you continued stubbornly.

He opened and closed his hand a few times. “As good as it ever will, I think. I can do almost everything I could before, but not with the same strength, and I still need a cane when I must walk more than a few steps.”

“I see. Keep exercising.”

“I will.”

You could not think of any more questions and fell silent.

His gaze returned to the ominous clouds, the perpetual darkness that had lingered over the Mordor border all your life.

What was happening there? Had the decoy worked? Was the secret mission completed? Or had it failed?

You were certain Boromir was asking himself these same questions too – over and over again.

“If that halfling succeeds – what will you do then?” you asked.

He did not answer right away. Then he sighed, looking more dejected than you had ever seen him. “I do not know,” he said, barely audibly. “I cannot see the future… I see only darkness ahead; impenetrable, frightening. And there is a heavy weight in me… in my heart.” He glanced at you. “I believe that is why I cannot bond with others like I used to, not form friendships or… other connections. Not until I know what will happen…”

You thought you understood what he meant. He was talking about you, trying to explain why he kept a distance. Somehow, his words lit a tiny hope in your chest. If you won, if the dark Lord was defeated…

But he swiftly crushed that.

“I have no hope the halfling will succeed. Maybe if the rest of the Fellowship had been with him…” He broke off, glancing at you again, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It is my fault he must walk alone,” he whispered. “Do you recall the secret weapon I told you about? My dream? I had dreams of that ilk frequently. The Ring whispered to me… spoke to me… showed me visions. It became so precious to me I wanted to have it.” His hands were shaking and he clenched them. “First I sought to convince him, urging him to give it up, and when that failed I tried to wrestle it from him! I, a man of Gondor, twice his height. Unbelievable…”

You wished you knew what to say, but did not, so you just stood there. Silent.

“Frodo – that is the name of the halfling – ran away alone. That is why Aragorn must go on this suicide mission now. If he perishes, that is on me. If Frodo does, that is on me too. It will be my fault alone.”

“I do not think–”

“Do not try to excuse what I did. I was weak, and I fell, and countless lives have been spilled because of it. I should have been there.” He pointed south, toward his homeland. “If I had, my father would still be alive today. My brother might not have been injured.” He gave you a look full of self-loathing. “I am sorry, but I am not the hero you and the rest of the village believe I am. I am not strong, or brave. I am a coward. And what is worse…” He clenched his hands again. “Even now I want it. Even now a part of me hopes Frodo will fail so I can claim it.”

Without another word he limped away.

※

After that conversation you became rather distracted in your work. All the time your thoughts lingered on Boromir.

You needed to figure out the complex man that was him.

With a few sly questions to Torsten and the others who had been to the war you tried to find out more of his background. You asked many questions about the quest he had been a part in when he was presumed killed, and you also pretended an interest in the new heir to the throne who had shown up, which brought on the topic of the ruling stewards who had held the power for centuries in the king’s absence. It helped you figure out more details about Boromir’s early life.

Putting it all together, you concluded his actions were completely understandable.

Boromir was born the eldest son of the steward – basically a prince. Raised to be a leader and politician, to always do what was best for the people. Not allowed to have his own dreams or goals.

He became a warrior and captain, trained to lead others into battle, and was likely encouraged to seek an honorable death, if worst came to worst. All his life Gondor had been the only country trying to defend against the darkness of Mordor, the only army trying to hold the last forts and cities, sacrificing their lives to do so while the rest of the world did not know or did not care what happened.

You were one of them. You, a Rohirrim, had never realized what an impossible task Middle-earth had assigned Gondor. How selfishly you had continued your business as usual.

Then Boromir had been sent to aid a halfling, who had no particular skills, strength or powers, to carry the most dangerous and powerful item in the world from Rivendell to Mount Doom in Mordor and destroy the ring there, right under Sauron’s – its maker and owner – nose.

And Boromir had failed because he believed the ring could be used better by him or his father in Gondor.

You could not blame him for that.

※

Boromir was standing alone, looking east as usual. You observed him, debating with yourself whether to try to talk to him again. Tell him to be less hard on himself.

But you had a feeling he would only be angry if you brought it up.

Suddenly Boromir began to shake violently and fell to his knees. He was clutching his chest.

You immediately ran forward. Was his heart troubling him?

“What happened? Are you ill?”

Still trembling, he turned his head east. “Look,” he whispered.

You looked. A gray pillar was rising into the sky, like smoke from a huge chimney. Beneath it the sky was a bright orange.

“What is it?”

“It is gone. The Ring… I no longer sense it. He must have destroyed it.” He slowly rose to his feet, wiping moisture from his forehead.

“Are you certain?” Could the quest really have succeeded against all odds? You did not dare believe it.

“That smoke… Frodo was going to throw the Ring into Mount Doom; perhaps it erupted as a consequence.” His voice was steadier now. “Either way, I know it is gone. All this time, I felt it. A heavy weight; a steady pull on my mind. But I no longer do.”

“How are you feeling?” You were still worried.

“Good.” A surprised half-smile formed on his lips. “My heart is light. I feel free.”

It struck you he looked like several years had been removed from his face; the perpetual worry lines were eased out. Slowly, gradually you were starting to believe him. It had to be true. Nothing else could have affected him so positively.

He caught you in an impromptu hug. “The victory is ours! The enemy stands no chance with the Ring gone!”

You clung to him, wanting to be in his arms forever. Relief and happiness flooded your chest, nearly choking you. There would be a future ahead that was not completely dark.

Maybe you could even dare hope for love.

※

You were about to prepare dinner when there was a knock on your door. A bit puzzled you went to open; nobody knocked around here. They just barged in.

Boromir stood outside, looking different somehow. It took you a heartbeat until you realized why: he had shaved, leaving only a short, neat beard. His hair was slightly damp as if he had just taken a bath.

He was so attractive you could hardly breathe.

“Good evening. I have not told anyone else about the ring; I find it difficult to explain how I can be so sure it is gone, but I want to celebrate the upcoming victory. Will you join me?” He held up a flagon. “I have mead.”

Your head spun. Was this the same man who had so carefully kept you at a distance before?

“Of course,” you said, not letting your voice betray your surprise. “Let me make myself ready first.”

You hurried back inside, suddenly very conscious about your appearance. You washed your face and hands, wishing there was time to take a bath. You put on scented oil instead.

Then you hauled out your nicest clothes and brushed your hair until it shone.

A bit breathlessly you went out.

He regarded your appearance appreciatively. “Lovely.” Something about the way he looked at you made your heart beat faster.

Boromir took you to the roof you had been using as a lookout tower before, spreading a blanket for you both to sit on.

It was not very big, and as you sat down you felt the heat from his body and a whiff of his scent. He must have used perfumed oil as well.

“Time to feast. Here, have a cup. Vidar promised me it is the strongest mead he has.”

You drank in companionable silence first. The evening was cool; it was still only late March, but you thought you felt the smell of spring in the air. The column of smoke over Mordor had a pink hue from the setting sun.

You did not quite dare look at Boromir. Again he felt so much bigger than you, so much stronger, and it intimidated you.

After a while the drink began to affect you, filling you with courage. You discreetly peeked at him from the corner of your eyes.

You admired his profile; his straight nose, dark eyebrows, his clear eyes glittering in the evening light. How was it possible for a man to be so handsome?

He must have dressed with care. The cloak he wore was new, lined with rabbit fur, and you did not recognize the tunic.

“New clothes?” you asked, trying to hide your fluster with conversation as was your habit.

“Vidar let me choose between his spare ones; he said he still owes me for the belt. Your influence, I presume.”

Boromir had chosen well; the tunic was elegantly cut and suited him perfectly. You recalled that his other clothes and his boots were also very nice. Suddenly amused, you realized he must be a bit of a coxcomb.

“I was not aware you were a man of fashion.”

“I am a man of many talents.” His lopsided grin made your heart throb.

“Indeed, you are,” you let slip.

“You are a person of many talents too.” He took your hand. “I was fortunate to be saved by such an attractive healer.”

You found no words to reply; your mouth had grown too dry.

Still looking intently at you, he took your hand and brought it to his lips. They were cool and burning hot at the same time.

You had his full attention and charisma directed at you. It made your limbs feel weak. You could not move, not breathe. Time stopped. As if he and you were alone in the world.

He took another sip from his mug and released your eyes; the tense moment passed. A small smile lingered on his lips.

He must know how he affected you. He played you like a fiddle.

But you did not mind.

“More mead?” As he refilled your mug, his fingers brushed against yours.

You moved closer. “I am cold,” you mumbled as an excuse. It was a lie. You were burning hot, set aflame by your emotions.

His smile widened. He knew.

He put his cloak around you both, pulling you close. The rabbit fur was soft against your chin.

He was so warm. You felt safe and protected with his strong arm around you. You leaned into him, rested your head on his broad chest.

He put the mug down to stroke your hair, a bit clumsily because it was his right hand. You did not care. His fingers were chafed and calloused. You did not care about that either.

You slid your own hand around his waist. His frame was lean and hard. You pressed your nose against the hollow under his neck, drawing in the scent of his warm skin. Your heart beat fast and hard, the sound of it filling your ears.

You felt his pulse beat fast too.

He held your cheek in his palm, turning your face up. He had such large hands. His eyes were dark, drawing you in.

He was looking at your lips. You looked at his.

Then you kissed.

※

It was late when Boromir escorted you home. The kiss still burned on your lips, the memory of it repeating itself in your mind. You had never been kissed that way before. With such passion, yet so gentle.

Even in this, Boromir showed what a kind man he was. He did not push. He did not go too far. As if he wanted to revel in the moment, to share a kiss without pressure for more.

You had expected he would ask you out again soon after that night, or perhaps ask to move back in with you, but he did neither. He stayed with Vidar, continuing his work training horses.

Yet there was a huge difference in his behavior toward you.

Now, when you met, he always smiled, and never failed to exchange a few words if there was time. And whenever you were in his vicinity you often felt his eyes on you.

If only you were brave enough to make advances, but it appeared you had caught a spell of unusual shyness around him.

Then one day when you were heading home from a visit to Sigrid and the baby, he fell into step with you. “Will you walk with me?”

You noticed his hair was damp again after a bath, and his cheeks smooth and freshly shaved. Your stomach fluttered. You had not stopped thinking about the kiss. Longing to repeat it.

As soon as you were some way from the village he took your hand. Yours nearly disappeared in his. It was warm and strong. You squeezed it and he squeezed back.

Then you just walked. Admiring the spring flowers along the path, discussing what kind of birds you heard, enjoying the afternoon sun on your faces. Taking breaks now and then so he could rest his feet. Walking was still taxing for him.

When you were back at your house he kissed the top of your hand. “Sleep well. Will you walk with me again tomorrow? I enjoyed it very much.”

“I did too.” Your heart felt so full it overflowed.

From then on, you took daily walks together, and sometimes rode out on horseback. It felt like you explored the surroundings and saw them for the first time – because to him, it was the first time. You showed him all your favorite places, told him anecdotes from your youth, and he shared similar tales from his own childhood. He had been up to quite a lot of mischief with his brother it seemed, and whenever he shared those memories his eyes grew soft.

“You miss him.”

He nodded. “I do.”

You hoped one day the brothers would be reunited.

Some days later a rider arrived with more news and an invitation. Sauron was dead, the ring destroyed – exactly as Boromir had known. All the Dark Lord’s minions had been swiftly defeated afterwards. And what was more, against all odds Lord Aragorn had survived the decoy attack, and so had all the rest of the Fellowship. Gondor would soon have a king again after so many centuries without, and everyone was invited to his coronation, especially the men who had taken part in the war.

“What will happen to the steward’s son?” asked Boromir, clearly feigning only a slight interest in the matter.

“He will become Prince of Ithilien. And he is engaged to marry one of ours! Éowyn, niece of Théoden King. Everyone saw them kiss at the city walls.”

Boromir relaxed. “Good for him.”

That day, Boromir was unusually quiet as you left the village on your walk. He seemed melancholy, but who wouldn’t be? The news from the south must have reminded him of where he came from, of his old life.

Did he think of going there? Perhaps attend the coronation? You felt a pang at the thought of him leaving you.

Maybe you could ask him to take you with him…

But no, you belonged here. What would the villagers do without their only healer?

Repressing a sigh, you took in the surroundings, trying to enjoy the beauty around you. It was a mild spring day and the pastures had become green. Everywhere you saw signs of new life: the lambs bouncing around their mothers, the new foals, Sigrid and Torsten’s baby napping in a basket.

You felt a huge wave of gratitude that all of it was still there. Other villages had been wiped out in the war, but not this one.

Your steps had taken you in the direction of the river, and you realized you were almost at the place where you first found Boromir. It felt strange that only two months had passed since then.

Boromir silently regarded the roaring waterfall. Probably recalling the events of that day. His betrayal. The orc attack. Waking up afterwards unable to use his body.

“The halflings survived,” he said, nodding at the Falls. "Frodo’s friends. It was them I tried to protect in the orc attack, and all this time I thought I had failed. But I saved them. Funny that.”

“Yet you seem unhappy,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it. Holding hands with him felt natural now.

He sighed. “I suppose I am, a little. I keep regretting I was not there… I could not follow through. The war is over and I did not help. Aragorn had to do everything.”

“How can you say you did not help? You saved us. Me. This may be a tiny corner of the world, but it is all we ever had. Because of you, we still do.”

He looked like he was going to object but you would not let him.

“As I once said, this world needs more good men. Men like you. And do not say I do not know you for now I do. You showed your kindness and virtue even when you tried to take that… thing – no, hear me out! – for you did not hurt the one who carried it. I have seen you fight; you could have sliced his head off in the blink of an eye. You could have taken the ring so easily. But you did not. Because you are good and kind. Because you could never hurt a friend, ever.”

He stared at you. Then a mist appeared in his eyes and he turned his head away. “I have not thought about it that way.”

“But it is true, is it not? You could have killed him.”

“I could.”

“And if the tales are true, you were hardly the first man to be corrupted by the power of that ring.”

“I was not.” His voice was toneless.

“Boromir,” you said earnestly, squeezing his hand again. “It was not your fault.”

“It was not my fault,” he whispered. Slowly he turned his eyes back to you, allowing you to see the tears pooling in them. “It was not my fault.”

He wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face into your hair. You hid your eyes against his strong chest. You were crying too now. For him, for everything he had been through, all the heartache and guilt. For the loss of his father. For the loss of his strength and mobility.

“I am so sorry for you,” you sobbed.

“Thank you.” Then he suddenly chuckled, and added in a broken voice that was at the same time happy and sad: “I would never have thought I would be grateful for someone’s pity. But I am. So, thank you.”

“Not pity; sympathy,” you said firmly.

You kept the hug for a long time. Allowing one another to calm down and collect yourself. Then you sat on a soft patch of grass by the river.

“Middle-earth is at peace. Will you return home?” you asked.

You were afraid to hear his reply but had to know. If this, whatever it was between you, should turn into something more, then you needed to know.

“I miss my brother, but the way things are I feel my return would only complicate things. I know he will be a good prince and leader, whereas I… well, I am a cripple.”

“You are not a cripple!” you objected.

Again he chuckled, blessing you with the genuine warmth of his laughter. “Not entirely, I suppose. And perhaps one day I shall visit Faramir. Let him know I am alive. But if so, I would not go there to stay.” He planted a kiss on the top of your hand. “Do you know what I want to do most of all?”

You mutely shook your head. Your heart was beating faster again.

“Stay here.” He nodded at the calm river and the reeds waving in the mild breeze. “In this beautiful place, with the river and the open, quiet plains. Among the horses and the sheep. I grew up in the bustle of the large city but now I have fallen in love with the peaceful, slow life and ways of the village.” He gave you his beautiful half-grin. “My father would think I had lost my mind if he could hear me now.” His smile swiftly waned. “But he is gone. I loved him, but I was never like him.”

“Would you not get bored? You enjoyed yourself on the battlefield, anyone could see that.”

“No more than I enjoyed breaking in Svarten and his foals. The thrill of galloping over a field is no less than the thrill of chasing an orc. No, I will not be bored. I will be happy.” His gaze grew soft as he met yours. “With you, if you will have me.”

“Of course,” you replied, fresh tears filling your eyes. Happy tears.

Softly he kissed them away, one by one. Then his lips found yours.

This time he did not stop after one sweet kiss. And this time he wasn’t only gentle.

You both knew what you wanted and where this was heading. For – you were his and he was yours, until death would part you.

※※※

A/N:

The next chapter is an Explicit bonus chapter that can be skipped.

※※※

Parts: [ < Previous Part ] [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

#boromir #boromir x reader #boromir x oc #boromir lives au #lotr #lotr fanfiction #boromir fanfiction #lord of the rings #hurt/comfort #healing #heroism #Stranger of the Falls

24 notes · View notes

frodo-with-glasses · 1 year

Note

For the work ask: pride

“Pride” makes me think of Boromir.

Pride was Boromir’s greatest strength and his greatest weakness. He was proud of his father, proud of his country, proud of his people, proud of their accomplishments in the thankless fight to keep the darkness at bay.

Yet because of his pride, it was difficult for him to admit that Gondor was flagging; it was difficult for him to ask for help. Because of his pride, he stumbled into more than one intercultural faux pas that could have been avoided if he’d deigned to listen or keep his mouth shut or think of other people as his equals.

He laughed at the Hobbits in the Council of Elrond—and then quickly had to swallow his laughter as he realized the Elves and Dwarf Lords and Wizard and other Very Important People in this council took these two little halflings Very Seriously.

He insinuated that Men are the stoutest and strongest of all the races—earning the ire of the Dwarf, who was standing right there.

He talked very loudly about how this Galadriel lady seemed quite sus and he for sure did not trust her—in the very land where Galadriel was In Charge and Incredibly Powerful, and in front of an exhausted Aragorn who told him in no uncertain terms to Shut The Heck Up.

It was pride that made Boromir believe that Gondor could outsmart the curse of the Ring and use it against its maker. It was pride that led to Boromir’s obsession with it. It was pride that resulted in his betrayal, his downfall.

It was pride that did not let him run when the orcs arrived; pride that made him risk everything to defend Merry and Pippin.

It was pride that kept him fighting until the very end.

It’s been better stated in this post than I could say here, but a great deal of Tolkien’s heroes are marked by their humility: Aragorn, the rightful king, goes about in dingy clothes and mud-stained boots; Gandalf, who long ago participated in the creation of the world, delights in making fireworks for the entertainment of hobbits; Frodo is a veritable sheep to the slaughter, never bragging about himself, and never demanding recognition for what he’s done. Tolkien’s heroes are humble.

And then, there is Boromir.

Noble, valiant, arrogant, tactless, passionate, opinionated, flawed and fearless and proud Boromir.

We learn this about him almost from the moment we meet him.

He ceased, but at once Boromir stood up, tall and proud, before them…

“Believe not that in the land of Gondor the blood of Numenor is spent, nor all its pride and dignity forgotten.”

Hm…Numenor. Wasn’t it Numenor that had the hubris to believe it could challenge the Valar and earn eternal life through force? Wasn’t it Numenor that brought about its own destruction? Wasn’t it Numenor that fell because of its pride?

Maybe Boromir comes by it naturally.

WORD ASK GAME!

#word ask game #boromir #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing

39 notes · View notes

pluviophi13 · 1 year

Text

“I don’t want to say goodbye ‘cause this one means forever….”

This is a prompt inspired by the song 'In the Stars' by Benson Boone

Masterlist

Narrator POV

As Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Y/N fight their way down the slopes towards the lake, they hear the echo of Boromir's horn.

"The horn of Gondor!" said Legolas.

"Boromir!" Aragorn shouted

"Oh God..." Y/N shuddered

The group runs down Amon Hen towards the sound, but Uruks stand between them and Boromir. Some run towards Boromir down the stone steps, while others attack Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Y/N as they struggle to follow.

Boromir sounds the horn of Gondor again.

"Run! Run!" Boromir ordered Merry and Pippin.

The Uruks attack Boromir, but he manages to kill two more. Suddenly, Lurtz appears, lifts his bow, aims a big black arrow, and shoots it into Boromir’s left shoulder.

"NOOOOOOO!" Y/N screams, eyes wide with shock and worry

The hobbits look at him in shock.

Boromir drops to his knees, breathes heavily, and looks at the hobbits and Y/N.

The Uruks draw closer, but the hero gives a battle cry, rises, and swings his sword at one of them, who falls.

Lurtz growls, lifts his bow, and shoots again. A black arrow flies into Boromir’s stomach.

The man drops to his knees, gasping. He swings his sword at another Uruk and manages to get back up. Lurtz shoots him once more, hitting him in the chest. Boromir falls to his knees and remains there, swaying slightly and blinking.

Merry and Pippin look at him, aghast. With all the courage they could muster, they take up their swords and attack the Uruk-Hai.

"Shire!!" Merry and Pippin cried in unison.

They never have the chance to strike.

The Uruk-hai lifted Merry and Pippin and carried them away as the hobbits waved their arms frantically. Meanwhile, the Uruk-hai troop walked away from Boromir, leaving him helpless to intervene.

Left alone, Lurtz stops ten feet from Boromir and takes aim with his bow. Boromir swallows and stares back at him. Just then, Aragorn crashes into Lurtz, causing his arrow to fly off harmlessly.

Lurtz and Aragorn fight. Aragorn loses his sword and is thrown to the ground; as he gets up, Lurtz throws his two-pronged shield at Aragorn, pinning him by the neck against a tree. Lurtz raises his sword and strikes, but Aragorn slips under the shield and dodges the blow. Aragorn draws a knife and stabs Lurtz in the leg. Lurtz roars. Lurtz then pulls the knife out and throws it at Aragorn, who has found his sword and uses it to strike the knife away. Aragorn closes in on Lurtz and in a flurry of swordplay slices off his arm and then stabs him in the chest. Lurtz pulls himself up on the sword and snarls at Aragorn. Aragorn grimaces, pulls his sword from Lurtz, swings it wide and hacks Lurtz's head off. The rest of Lurtz falls to the ground.

Aragorn pauses for a moment, panting. He then rushes over to Boromir, with Y/N following him. Boromir, pale and bloodied, is lying on his back near a tree.

"No!" Aragorn shouted, running up and kneeling beside Boromir.

"No..." Y/N trembling, kneeling beside the hero

"They took the little ones." Boromir muttered.

“Be still.” Aragorn ordered him

"Frodo, where is Frodo?" asked Boromir.

"I let Frodo go." Aragorn said

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the ring from him." Boromir whispered.

"The Ring is beyond our reach now." Aragorn said softly.

"Forgive me, I did not see. I have failed you all." Boromir whispered.

"No, Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honour." Y/N says as they reach out to pull the arrows from Boromir.

"Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness... and my city to ruin." Boromir argued

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you that I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail!" Aragorn swore.

"Our people? Our people." Boromir smiled a little.

He reaches for his sword. Aragorn places the hilt in his hand, and Boromir clasps it to his chest.

Boromir turned his head as much as he could to look at Y/N.

"Y/N..." Boromir whispered

Y/N kept their head down, looking at their hands. They couldn't look at the hero for fear of collapsing on the spot.

"I've always loved you, Y/N. Ever since I first met you.

".....”

Y/N was silent for a moment until the weight of their emotions became too much to bear and they let it all out in a flood of tears. They had held on for so long, trying to be strong and keep it together, but now they couldn't hold back any longer. Tears streamed down their cheeks and they gasped for breath as the sobs shook their body.

"B-Boromir..." Y/N Stuttered

"It seems the time has come for me to bid farewell..." Boromir whispered

“I don’t want to say goodbye ‘cause this one means forever….”

"I'm sorry, my love..." whispered the hero.

He turned his head to face Aragorn once again.

“I would have followed you my brother….my captain….my king!” He said as he took his final breath.

Boromir was dead. Aragorn touches his forehead with his hand, then his lips in respect.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor.” He said as he bends down and kisses Boromir on the brow

Legolas and Gimli arrive on the scene. Legolas looks sadly at Aragorn, Boromir and Y/N. Gimli bows his head and turns away.

Aragorn rises. He walks over to Y/N and puts a hand on their shoulder.

"It's going to be all right," he whispered.

They looked up at him, tears streaming down their face. He held them close, his gentle touch and soothing words doing little to ease the pain in their heart. Yet there was something in his voice that made them want to believe him. Something in the way he spoke those simple words, "It's going to be all right," that made them feel like maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

#lord of the rings #angst #tw death #lotr spoilers #lotr x reader #boromir #lord of the rings x reader #x reader #boromir x reader

16 notes · View notes

winwin17 · 21 days

Text

Hear me out: I think if Éomer had joined the Fellowship rather than Boromir, his plotline would've been similar.

Imagine if Éomer, disenchanted, frustrated, and at his wit's end with the mysterious spell Théoden was under due to Saruman/Wormtongue, somehow heard about the Council of Elrond and traveled to Rivendell to seek advice or even a means of healing for Théoden. Imagine if Éomer was chosen to represent the race of Men in the Fellowship.

Like Boromir, Éomer is desperate to save his land from the corruption, destruction, and desolation that is pressing in. Éomer feels the heavy weight of responsibility to stand up for the good and right in place of his uncle and father figure who has fallen to some delusion. Just as Boromir feels for Gondor, Éomer of Rohan is passionate about protecting his people, his beloved sibling, his homeland. He has the qualities of a leader, is proactive, ready to step up and be king himself if/when the need arises. And both of them them are action-oriented heroes who take delight in the glory of conquest.

I can see Éomer in the same place of desperation as Boromir. Maybe the Ring could save his uncle! Surely he, Éomer, a noble man, could wield the Ring's power to take down the awful Wormtongue and bring him to justice! Perhaps this thought would eat at his mind as the days passed, as it did to Boromir.

So all I'm saying is that I really think Éomer would have much the same plotline as Boromir had he been at the Council of Elrond/included in the Fellowship. I know you can't really replace the character of Boromir with Éomer without doing some major changing to the whole story, and by no means am I saying it should be that way. I just think that it's simply the fact that Éomer did not know about the Ring and was not in close proximity to it nor closely involved with the quest surrounding it, that his story takes him high while Boromir's story took him low. I believe the two of them are similar in temperament and motive, so similar that Éomer could've met the same fate as Boromir had he been in that position.

#i feel like im just rambling here lol #but i am still convinced boromir and eomer are alike in a lot of ways #and that eomer could easily have had the same fate as boromir under the right circumstances #lotr #lord of the rings #eomer #eomer of rohan #boromir #rohan #gondor #the one ring #the fellowship of the ring #the council of elrond #theoden

29 notes · View notes

sindar-princeling · 1 year

Text

I posted 465 times in 2022

That's 369 more posts than 2021!

235 posts created (51%)

230 posts reblogged (49%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sindar-princeling

@svogliata-mente

@cornerful

@elven-child

@is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer

I tagged 463 of my posts in 2022

#lotr newsletter - 164 posts

#it's mine my own my precious - 136 posts

#no questions except on party business - 127 posts

#anon - 61 posts

#not lotr - 28 posts

#frodo - 25 posts

#aragorn - 20 posts

#lotr - 15 posts

#rings of power - 15 posts

#samwise - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i saw the asks and mentions and yall are the best but i cant reply rn because in a minute im flying out to see ✨️❤️david tennant🥰✨️ live

My Top Posts in 2022:

absolutely loving the daily dracula idea let's do lord of the rings next

1,660 notes - Posted May 6, 2022

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.

1,956 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

The previous post made me think some more about the real life influences on LOTR, so because I’m down with a cold and have a lot of time to spare, I finally wanted to write a coherent post about those comments GRRM made about Aragorn and his tax policy.

For those who haven’t heard the actual quote, here it is:

Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles? In real life, real-life kings had real-life problems to deal with. Just being a good guy was not the answer.

And my god, do I have problems with this approach to Tolkien. It’s kind of like asking why Bilbo was unconscious for a lot of the battle of five armies, when we know it was a story Tolkien was telling his kids before sleep.

When looking at LOTR, I think you can’t not read it as an ultimate escapist fantasy - and what’s most important, Tolkien’s personal escapist fantasy.

He is Frodo - a man born into a middle class family, educated, well-read, with close friends coming from the same “social sphere”, like Merry and Pippin, who died in WWI. Sam is in a very literal sense the batmen Tolkien fought with, which he said he considered “so far superior to myself”.

Tolkien had a few batmen during the war, like the article from my previous post mentions. Most probably because he fought in a few different units, but also, he may have lost some of them to war.

And in LOTR, they all get a happy ending.

Of all four of them, Frodo is the only one who can’t return home, most probably mirroring Tolkien’s trauma. He’s the only one whose ending is grounded in trauma, PTSD, loss. The rest of the hobbits get happy endings - very simple and traditional in a way that after the war was nothing but good - they marry, they have kids, the kids marry each other, everyone is happy and lives long lives.

Sam, especially, gets the happiest ending of all in this sense - he marries a woman he grew up with, he has so many beautiful kids, he is mayor for like seven times and everyone loves him, the Shire thrives.

Tolkien was too traumatised after the war not to write Frodo as a mirror of his experiences. But then he took all the people who fought alongside him, who suffered alongside him, people who he lost, and gave them the happiest fairy tale endings he could think of. And it’s not that Merry, Pippin and Sam weren’t as traumatised - this ending is not meant to belittle their experiences - Tolkien is simply giving them the ending that real life didn’t give them.

Returning to the original point, to Aragorn - it’s just another version of the same mechanism. Gondor was struggling, Gongor had Mordor as their immediate neighbours and was heavily affected by the war as well. And then there came a just, good king, and everything was fine. The end. It’s a subplot of the same fantasy as the hobbits’ endings. It doesn’t matter how hard ruling is, we trust that Aragorn is a good king, because people of Gondor deserve a good king (the people of the real world deserved a good ruler who wouldn’t drag them to war), and we know that Aragorn is an honorable, just man.

Nothing about the LOTR ending - apart from Frodo’s trauma - is meant to be realistic. Why would Tolkien want to write WWI and the aftermath - this time fictional.

2,038 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

a friendly reminder 🔫🙂

(ID is added in alt text)

8,910 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

between describing elrond as an "ambitious political leader" and describing GoT as a "spiritual successor to lotr movies" I see now how stupid it was to think that the lotr series' intended audience would be you know. lotr fans

9,688 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I CREATED MORE POSTS THAN I REBLOGGED? damn what a busy year for me lkjdlkjflvjfdkkdf #it's mine my own my precious #i love how this is just. you reblogged the most from yourself and also yourself on main. this is so funny

19 notes · View notes

queenlucythevaliant · 2 years

Text

Steward

(Companion to this piece)

i. The sun was setting in the west when the Standing Silence came. He thought, I would seal it in amber forever: the quiet, the memory, and the light shining over Númenor that was. Such things felt more True than anything else.

ii. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. I would not snare even an orc with a falsehood.

iii. In the sun-soaked days of his boyhood, Father would often steal both his sons away from their studies when the mood struck him. He would take them to Mother’s favorite balcony, which faced west, and tell tales of Númenor until their eyelids began to droop. He did all the voices and talked with his hands.

iv. Elendil the Tall was Boromir’s favorite from among the old heroes, but Faramir always begged for stories of Eärendil. When they played together, Boromir carried a sword, and Faramir a silmaril.

v. (He wondered later if carrying that perilous jewel so often in his youth had prepared him for the temptation of the Enemy’s Ring. It seemed kinder to Boromir to imagine it so.)

vi. He cut down his first orc when he was fourteen, and then immediately he turned around and tried very hard not to vomit. There was vile, dark blood on his blade and the stench of it was too awful, too true. True—yes, what was true? Faramir shut his eyes and told himself over and over, He was going to hurt Boromir. I defended my brother. I defended him. Eventually, the roiling feeling in his stomach subsided.

vii. Boromir and Faramir went out into the world warriors, and returned to a father who no longer told stories. Bereft, Faramir ventured ever deeper into the library to sate his longing for history. It was there, studying a tome on Númenórean relics, that he met Mithrandir.

viii. “Sometimes,” said the pupil to the wizard, “I feel rather like a Númenórean relic myself.”

ix. Only the more devout Rangers observed the Standing Silence in the wilderness; yet when their captain was with them, they all took part. Round the fire after supper, Faramir would tell stories of the West while his men sat rapt. He spoke like a poet as he wove his history, and he talked with his hands.

x. Faramir loved his brother more than anyone else in the world. In the end, he killed him with a dream.

xi. Boromir! He heard himself cry, Where is thy horn? Wither goest thou? O Boromir. And just like that, his brother was gone.

xii. Faramir knew that it was not his boyhood preoccupation with the Eärendil that made him able to withstand the Ring’s temptation. It was not even his promises to Frodo. No, in the end, it was only the Truth: the Ring was a black, perilous thing. Faramir knew.

xiii. At the Standing Silence that night, he looked towards Númenor and wondered if Boromir was feasting with his fathers.

xiv. “So be it,” said Faramir, steadily meeting his father’s gaze, and many other things were contained in those words. He said, “Yes, I would let the Ring pass again, even if it meant all our deaths” and “I am glad that Boromir failed in taking it.” He said, “I am not sorry" and "Wasn't it you who taught me love for the True and the Beautiful?" Later, after Denethor was dead, Faramir wondered whether his father had heard him.

xv. He woke in the Houses of Healing at the word of Isildur’s heir. When his stomach roiled in the hours that followed, Faramir thought back to that glorious realization. The king has returned. His hands can heal.

xvi. When he stood before Éowyn and said, “In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure,” it did not feel like a grand declaration. The darkness was passing. It was. It was.

xvii. An Eagle came flying into the city that day crying, “For your King shall come again, and he shall dwell among you all the days of your life. And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed, and he shall plant it in the high places, and the City shall be blessed.”

xviii. A few hours later, Éowyn found Faramir weeping on his mother’s balcony.

xix. Oh Éowyn, he gasped, every Beautiful thing I ever hoped for is coming True.

xx. Above them, Gil Estel was shining.

#my cardinal virtues are Truth and Courage #in this schema Faramir is Truth and Eowyn is Courage #tolkien legendarium #i will not say the day is done #Leah stories #pontifications and creations

38 notes · View notes

sunflowerbloomss · 1 year

Text

boromir means so much 2 me actually..... the greek tragedy of his arc vs the optimistic nature of the story is such a vivid contrast & there's something almost haunting about the way even the characters around him know he's dooming himself and don't really take the time to try and save him from this fate & the way he must die for them to understand the true scale of the quest & him being a beloved leader and a supporting brother before being at the wrong place at the wrong time. the sacrifice to save merry and pippin, frodo's sadness upon finding out he died, 'boromir was a valiant member of our company. yes, i was his friend, for my part', 'the river has taken boromir son of denethor, and he was not seen again in minas tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the white tower in the morning. but in gondor in after-days it long was said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through osgiliath, and past the many mouths of anduin, out into the great sea at night under the stars'..... the way even though he dies he is still a hero. to steal from xmen for a moment he is an excellent example of 'just because someone stumbles and loses their way does not mean they are lost forever' even though he died and made mistakes. i love him

#no one cares eli #lotr

2 notes · View notes

fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 11 months

Text

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 138- Liberation

Summary: Jareth's demon side hunts the six intruders. Things get intensely hot as they fight their way out. An evil reign appears to have ended. Jace and Raven have a moment. Thranduil makes his appalled feelings known. More danger awaits the nine as they work their way to unite. Legolas feels the evil. Raven is being stalked. Something precious is found. Jace is Raven's hero. Pirate alert! Father and son reunion!

*Warnings* Angst, violence, language, death

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

"You have not had the displeasure of meeting Jareth's true self such as I, Legolas and Gandalf have." Aragorn said to the auburn haired man of Gondor known as Boromir as he stared at the fiery glowing doorway where the balrog was headed.

"Nor did I want to, for as you know, this was not the intent of my journey here." he whispered back to Strider, who then gave his long time friend a cognizant look.

"It is time to go. RUN!" Gandalf shouted to the quintet at his side.

All ran off with Boromir, Legolas and Gimli in the lead to an exit leading deeper into the twisted labyrinth. Boromir was the first to run through, turning sideways to manage the set of narrowed steps. He was moving so quickly that he didn't see the drop off at the end and lost his balance as he abruptly tried to stop. If it were not for Legolas throwing his arms around him and pulling him back, Boromir would have fallen to his death in the fiery pits of hell below.

Aragorn and an exhausted Gandalf then came down the stairwell. The wizard grasped the wall for a moment to catch his breath in which Aragorn halted to assist him.

"You must carry them on. The bridge is near that leads to a way out."

The ranger refused to leave his old friend and tried to further aid him as he reached out, grabbing his arm.

"Do as I say!" Gandalf loudly commanded as he pushed a surprised Aragorn away and rushed past him. "Your sword is of no use here!"

Beyond the break of the stairs was another stone platform of descending steps, in which Legolas leaped over to. As he did so, the balrog's ferocious growl and pounding stomps reverberated from behind them, causing the walls to crack and chunks of rock to fall.

"Gandalf!" Legolas called to him, motioning to the old great wizard to come first, for the elf saw of his physical distress.

Gandalf leaped over to Legolas and then all but Aragorn and Tauriel made it across as the unstable rock beneath their feet began to break away. The ranger and the elleth began to fall but were able to grasp their way back onto the remaining footbridge.

More orcs and goblins then surfaced from the upper dark corners and began firing arrows at them. Legolas took one the ghouls out with an arrow straight between the eyes and then he, Aragorn, Boromir and Tauriel began dropping the vicious vultures like flies as arrows sprayed the air.

Jareth neared with thunderous trudges causing more destruction of the interior as a boulder sized rock came crashing down, severing the path behind Aragorn and Tauriel, stranding them on a teetering monolith as it crumbled below while the others helplessly watched.

"Tauriel, lean back!!" Aragorn shouted as the decayed structure began to tilt towards the others.

"Come on!" Legolas encouraged to Aragorn as the elf's stance prepared for the hit.

Slowly, the broken rock plunged forward and crashed into the other piece, catapulting Aragorn into Legolas's awaiting arms, and Tauriel into Boromir's.

"Good catch!" Aragorn quickly applauded his long time elven friend with a pat to his shoulder.

Down the ramp of stairs they all hurried as the detached standing stone stood no more, twisting and plunging into the burning abyss.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf yelled as they all reached solid ground. As they all ran to the crossing, Jareth's diabolical form leaped to the ground, roaring his roasting malevolent breath upon the wizard, who fearlessly faced his searing vengeance down.

The beastly blazing balrog then proceeded to tromp forward, in which Gandalf then turned and ran after the others.

He stopped and spun around to face Jareth once more as he reached the narrow crossway.

"You shall not pass!"

The goblin king firmly stood up at his full intimidating height of eighteen feet and burst into a raging inferno.

The wizard raised his staff and it glowed bright in a perfectly round shield over him.

"Go back to the depths of hell where you belong goblin king!!"

The light didn't affect Jareth this time, like it had did at Lestat's. All it did now was protect the wizard as the beast charged his flaming sword down upon Gandalf. The magical shield disintegrated the fiery weapon upon impact.

Jareth became fed up and even more furious as he then pulled out a laser like whip, wielding it around and then lunged forward onto the overpass. Legolas stood at the foot of the bridge and released a dose of starlight on the demon from the phial Galadriel gave him. As he did so, Jareth was severely blinded and his whip curled like a snake, slicing clean through the bridge at Gandalf's feet like a hot knife through butter. The narrow viaduct crumbled beneath Jareth due to his weight and down the demon fell, back to the depths of hell as Gandalf had ordered him to.

More arrows began to disperse through the air from the orcs and goblins. Gandalf turned and ran to the others as Aragorn waited for him, then up the stairs they raced to the west side exit of the mountain.

Thranduil, Raven and Jace stopped for a moment to strategize their next move, for the east side exit was swamped with goblins.

"This is just great. We are getting nowhere and trapped again!" Raven griped as she leaned on the wall from exhaustion.

"We can head down to the west side exit. I know this place like the back of my hand." Jace responded.

"Any exit will be crawling with goblins and orcs." Thranduil concluded.

"Not to mention Jareth and Harker, even Julian are lurking about." Raven added as she slid down the wall, dropping to her butt in frustration.

Thranduil then began conversing with Legolas, and as he did so, Jace turned his attention to Raven who appeared ill.

"Are you...alright? You don't look so good."

"Gee thanks."

"No, I just mean that...well, you're perspiring for one and your pale."

"What do you care? You despise me just as everyone else does all because I am half vampire, which is not my fault ya know and you were a complete jackass to me when we first found you."

"Everyone despises you because you're evil, which IS your fault. You don't have to be that way ya know."

"And if I were a goody two shoes like you, would you like me then?"

The warlock gazed down at her for a moment, studying her eyes which appeared to have both sadness and kindness hidden inside of them. Jace was quite skilled in reading a person's true self just as Haldir was.

"Possibly. I see it in you...behind all that invisible armor you wear. You don't want to be this way, but you were...forced to be?"

Raven's distrusting eyes slowly rolled up his body in confusion and met his. No one had ever cared to know about her or what she had been through.

"You don't know anything about me or my fucked up life." she snapped and got up. As she did so, she felt nauseated and quickly leaned over in a corner to throw up again.

Jace came over to her and gently placed his hand on her back as he pulled her hair from her face with the other.

Raven shivered and flinched at his touch, for her scars from Jareth's whipping were still sensitive, and not only that, but she had never experienced a gentle hand.

"Can you please not touch me??" she snapped again as she side eyed him.

"Are...are you hurt?"

Inside, she was screaming yes. Hurt in so many ways from those who had claimed to love her or care for her.

"No...it's you and your silverbane poisoning. It's making me sick. Please get away from me already! You reek of it."

Silverbane was one thing witches were weakened by and it's affects varied on the individual susceptible to it.

"Legolas and his company are on the west side. That is where we shall go. Jareth has been destroyed." Thranduil confirmed as he glowered at Raven's weak state. "This again. Gather yourself girl. It is unbecoming and there is no time for more delay."

Raven was so relieved at the King's validation of Jareth's demise that she didn't even care about his callous words, but Jace did.

"Do you have to be so cruel? She just recued both of us or have you forgotten that already?"

Raven's eyes slightly widened at his comment while Thranduil's eyes narrowed, sensing the warlock's changed demeanor of the dhampir.

"Oh I have not forgotten of that which was highly undesired or unnecessary, and of that which will never occur again if you treasure the attachment of your hands to your body."

"Are you serious? Would you have rather swam with the goblins than be where you are right now?" Raven retorted.

"Yes...yes I would have." Thranduil snidely replied.

"You just can't handle needing my help or the fact that even for an agile elf, you would never have made that jump to the ledge."

Thranduil sneered at her. "Stay here and rot if you will. I have no more time for your verbal nonsense."

Off the Elvenking went, then Raven followed as she and Jace exchanged a brief look of awkwardness over his quick defense of her.

"Father is headed to the lower west side. He confirmed the east was blocked." Legolas informed his company.

"The lower west exit will be of no less danger. Orcs and Pirates lurk about on the Hoarwell, all in Jareth's service." Gandalf explained.

"Then we will fight them too. My father will be freed this day." Legolas snapped and adamantly headed down the mountain with the others quickly trailing behind.

"Legolas...you do not seem quite yourself." Tauriel said in concern as she caught up to the fast paced Prince.

"The evil here...it is weighing on me. I can feel it."

"I feel it too. We have come this far. Soon we will have the King and be free of this wretched realm."

"And then I will be free of you as well."

The pissy Prince picked up his pace and Tauriel slowed hers, knowing it was not the right time to speak with Legolas. She also knew it may never be.

Three hours later:

"Aragorn. Something troubles you?" Boromir asked as they neared the lower west side entrance that rested on the Hoarwell.

"Yes. King Jasper. I promised him and his men freedom of their tomb in return for their aid. He said they would fight but he has not shown himself since."

"Could it be possible they have been freed with the goblin king's downfall? After all, it is he who is responsible for their deaths. I am quite surprised Jasper did not appear to aid for Jareth's demise."

"I imagine it could have freed them, but I feel vengeance is also desired by he and his men upon the remaining of those in his sinister son's service. As far as Jareth, swords are of no use against the balrog, just as Gandalf said....but they will be against his guild."

"Yes, they will." a grumbled voice from behind them agreed. King Jasper's voice.

"Thranduil, slow down!" Raven panted from behind the Elvenking's swift and strong long strides while Jace surprisingly stayed beside her.

The three had made their way to the lower dark caverns of the west side, knowing they would soon encounter a hoard of armored and armed goblins and orcs about the exit. The hollows were not an easy feat with all the wet and slippery rock climbing, in which Raven soon found out.

"Owwww!" she screeched as her ankle twisted beneath her, causing her to fall flat on her chest atop a pile of multiple jagged stones of many shapes and sizes.

Jace got down on one knee and extended his hand to her.

"Are you alright?"

She reluctantly took his hand and hobbled up to her feet. As she did so, piercing pain shot through her ankle.

"Ahhhh fuck!!"

Raven's knee buckled and she fell forward right into Jace's quick strong arms. She hopped on her good foot to balance herself against him as they both awkwardly gazed at each other once more.

Raven's trembling hands laid flat upon his solid and formed chest as she stood frozen, fumbling through her words.

"I..I think...I...I sprained it."

"Let me sit you back down so I can look at it."

"O...o...ok." she stuttered in a squeak.

Jace slowly lowered her to the ground and began to pull her boot off.

"Time is wasting while you needlessly fondle over the giddy girl. Time I will not waste among you no longer." Thranduil smugly stated and continued on his way.

'Wait, what the hell?? You're just going to leave us here??!!" Raven shouted.

As Thranduil headed to a bend, his miffed voice could be heard.

"As I should."

"ARGGGH!!! You asshole!" she raged and hurled a rock at the corner he disappeared behind.

"Let him go. We don't need him. I will get you out of here. I'm getting stronger. Now let me check your ankle." Jace nicely insisted.

Raven watched his eyes, one brown, one blue, as they scoured the swelled area. He may have had identical hues to Jareth's, but Jace's were kind and full of life.

Other eyes were watching as well. From above in the dark crevices of the rock walls crouched a disheveled Gollum, full of anger at the dhampir as he held a hefty rock in his bony fingers.

"Sometimes I wish I was a full blown vampire so I could heal quickly and feel less pain. This human side of me blows ass." Raven bitched.

Jace formed a smirk as he gently slipped her boot back on.

"Well..it definitely smells like someone blew ass down here." he replied.

An unexpected chuckle escaped Raven's lips. His sense of humor was just her style and for once, someone seemed to actually "get" her.

'Alright. We need to keep moving. Come on. Up you go."

Jace slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her back, then she gasped as he swooped her up.

"What are you doing??!"

"What does it look like? I'm carrying you. Don't give me the runaround that you can walk and can take care of yourself. You'll only slow us down."

"Fine." she huffed, although she quite enjoyed being in his arms but she wasn't about to let him know that.

Around the corner they went with Gollum trailing behind in the shadows.

As Jace ascended through the air over a massive boulder, he was struck in the forehead by Gollum's rock, instantly disorienting him. Down they went, rock after rock they both tumbled over until Raven landed solo on her back with a hard thud.

"J...J...Jace??" she gasped out as she tried to regain the air that was knocked out of her. There was no answer. All was silent except for the dripping sounds into the underground lake that was only a few feet away.

"Jace!!" she called out when she found her breath. Her voice echoed over and over into the far distance, but their was still no sight of or sound from him.

Raven began crawling along the rocks until something shiny caught her eye. Her sword that she gave Jace laid in the distance. Frantically she wriggled on all fours to get to it until her hand snagged onto something that lightly sliced her finger.

Fumbling through the dirt, her eyes widened as she picked up Jareth's citrine ring.

"H..how...how did this get here??" she muttered with a whisper.

A hissing eerie voice, one that was very familiar, was then heard circling all around her.

"Precioussssss."

Raven gasped and threw herself back against a large rock to hide from the ghastly creature she knew as Gollum. Her eyes wandered about in fear as she clutched the ring against her mouth, knowing it was of no use to her, for she didn't know how to use it. It freed Thranduil, yes, but that was because it was the key to the dark hole in the forest wall. Her own powers were still useless as well.

Her eyes spotted the sword again, but as she began to move, the goblin looking Gollum crept up from above and leaped down in front of her.

"My precious is back." he grinned his snaggletooth smile with an evil glower of his oversized eyes.

Raven panicked as she snapped her fingers closed around the ring, her eyes desperately searching for Jace.

"What do you want??"

"Precious wants to know what we wants. Precious knows what we wants."

"No...no I don't."

"We had a deal Precious! You broke it. You ruined it all. We were to give the violins to the King, not the dhampir."

'I...I didn't break anything. Thranduil did. He was the one who said he would help you."

"And he didn't helps us...because of you!!"

"He's still here! He can still help you! I..I can't do it. I do not have that power to...to...fix you. But..I can take you to him. I..I know where he is."

"Precious wants another deal?"

"Yes!..yes...a deal. I'll take you to him."

Gollum's eyes pondered on Raven's compromise. "A deal yessss, we wants another deal...no..no we don't...precious lies! No..she isn't, she will helps us, no NO NOOOO...you're a LIAR!!!"

His bellowing accusation startled Raven and she began to scurry away. Gollum grabbed her leg and yanked her back, sinking his teeth into the back of her calf. Her shrill scream filled the air as her hand involuntarily opened, revealing the ring.

Gollum's sizeable eyes widened even more. "My precioussss...."

He began searching through his pockets in a frenzy, and then halted, tilting his head at her with vicious eyes.

"You stoles it!! You stoles the precious from our pocketses!!! Give it back to us!!"

Gollum lunged at Raven and she gave him a hard kick in the face, then raced off on her hands and knees until Jace landed right in front of her, twirling the sword with a very pissed off glare at Gollum.

"Raven, get up! Let's go!"

Jace extended his hand out and pulled her to her feet as she smiled so big at her knight in shining leather.

"NOOOO!! You can't takes the precious!!" Gollum screeched as he dropped helplessly to the ground. "The master gaves it to us!!!!!"

"Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead!" Raven raved.

Jace wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her limp away while Gollum continued to grovel.

"Not true! Not true! Gollum and Smeagol still live as one! Gives it backs!! It is our only hope!!!"

'And you will continue to live as one in agony for eternity!" Jace shouted as he gave a glance back at the defeated wendigo.

The west exit was swarming with orc and goblin guard...and pirates too just as Gandalf had said. The six made their way from the side of the mountain to the dock area as three pirate ships were slowly gliding in.

They still needed to to get to the entrance which lied on the other side of the incoming vessels. Bravely they stood in the open for the water rats to see, for Aragorn had a little trick up his sleeve that would surely get them where they needed to go.

The corsairs all stood up when they spotted the six strangers.

"Halt! Who goes there??!" the commanding pirate shouted.

"You will not enter here!" Aragorn shouted back.

"Who are you to deny us passage?? You are not of the goblin king's realm!"

"Legolas...fire a warning shot past the corsair's ear." Aragorn ordered.

The Prince raised his bow and prepared to fire.

"Mind your aim." Gimli said as he intentionally bumped the bottom of Legolas's bow with his axe as the elf fired. The arrow shot one of the pirates straight in the heart and dropped him as the devious dwarf tried to act surprised.

"Prepare to be boarded!" Gimli warned.

"Boarded?? By who and who's army??" a pirate asked as all the shipmates roared in laughter.

"This army." Aragorn confidently replied.

King Jasper and his ghostly army swarmed through Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli as if they were the ghosts.

Every single pirate's jaw dropped as they screamed in panic while the dead rushed the ship and slaughtered them all within seconds.

Thranduil fought his way through the exit into the outside ruins, striking every goblin and orc down that were in his path of departing destruction. The smell of the murky air was a motivating scent to him, only upping his determination to be free of Jareth's dark realm.

More heavily armed and armored orcs came for him, but that didn't persuade nor stop the proficiently skilled Elvenking of the Woodland Realm as he took them all out, one by one in a graceful sword dance with the devils of the goblin realm.

Another bout of armed orcs awaited the arriving pirate ships at the west entrance, expecting the usual daily exchange of evil goods, but all of their eyes were stunned as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli leaped over the rail while Tauriel, Boromir and Gandalf exited to the side to watch what was about to unveil.

No time was wasted as King Jasper and his army of the dead surged along side Aragorn and company into the flock of freaks, trampling and slaughtering them all.

Jasper's army then raced over top of the water like wild horses and flooded the entire west port. Not a single orc, goblin or pirate in the daylight was spared on the way to the entrance where Thranduil stood, observing the massacre. The King of Mirkwood then caught sight of his son.

"Legolas!!" he shouted to him with a humble look upon his face and tears daring to fall from his gleaming tortured eyes.

The prince heard his father's outward call and their identical moonstone eyes immediately locked. Legolas almost lost his breath to view the man he once witnessed before him lifeless and believed he would never see again.

Legolas raced up to the cave like entrance as Thranduil worked his way through the short pathway of dead orcs to get to him.

Their eyes met as they both came around the corner. For the first time, Thranduil's conditioned hatred subsided to see his son that he was so very proud of.

"Adar...."

"Legolas...my son..."

@redeemer46

youtube

1 note · View note