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[tales-of-a-traveller]

favorite bits of the cast interviews in the LOTR special features:

Dominic Monaghan, Billy Boyd, Elijah Wood and Viggo Mortensen all taking the piss out of Orlando Bloom for going on about a cracked rib too much, while Orlando Bloom desperately tries to wriggle out of talking about it (special mention to Elijah Wood’s “oh it hurts, babes, and I can’t ride the horse, babes” and Viggo Mortensen’s “they can be very fragile, elves, especially the…Mirkwood strain…”)

Ian McKellen commenting that “they never did find any suitable underwear for Gandalf…”

Dominic Monaghan going on and on about how Viggo Mortensen apparently had a crush on one of the Rohirrim extras (who like a lot of the Rohirrim extras was a woman in a fake beard) while Vigoo Mortensen just mutters “one could perhaps say something about Mr. Monaghan’s…proclivities…”

Dominic Monaghan’s imitation of John Rhys-Davies ordering food at a restaurant for the whole cast. “You have partridge? BRING THE PARTRIDGE!”

John Rhys-Davies talking about an incident with the Lothlorian boats and saying “if an elf and a dwarf are in a boat…and…the boat goes under…let us say that the blame was not placed on the elf” while Orlando Bloom splutters “he’s a big guy, man!” 

Elijah Wood talking about how the hobbit actors shared a trailer with Ian McKellen and sometimes they would hear inarticulate bellows of protest from his side when they played loud music in the mornings

Viggo Mortensen talking about how, while filming with those same boats, Kirin Shaw (Elijah Wood’s scale double) started telling him “if the boat tips over…save yourself…I can’t swim.” 

Elijah Wood describing how Sean Astin would try to direct the helicopters to land while they were on location, while the other three hobbits were screwing around and throwing pinecones at each other

Christopher Lee recounting how he had so much trouble going up some steps in Orthanc with his long robe that he stopped in the middle of the scene and said, “I cannot get up these goddamn steps, Peter.” 

Viggo Mortensen mentioning that he left a weekend rehearsal and went walking down the street still swinging his sword around, and promptly got the cops called on him

[tales-of-a-traveller]

LOTR’s concept artists designed the films as a “journey back in time”

So (according to the concept art book) as the Fellowship travels deeper into Middle Earth, the places they pass through become inspired by progressively older periods of history. The farther along you are in the story, the more ancient the design influences

We begin in The Shire: which feels so familiar because, with its tea-kettles and cozy fireplaces, it’s inspired by the relatively recent era of rural England in the 1800s

But when we leave Hobbiton, we also leave that familiar 1800s-England aesthetic behind and start going farther back in time. 

Bree is based on late 1600s English architecture

Rohan is even farther back, based on old  anglo-saxon era architecture (400s-700s? ce)

Gondor is way back, and no longer the familiar English or Anglo-Saxon: its design comes from classical Greek and Roman architecture

And far far FAR back is Mordor. It’s a land of tents and huts: prehistoric, primitive, primeval. Cavemen times

And the heart of Mordor is a barren lifeless hellscape of volcanic rock…like a relic from the ages when the world was still being formed,  and life didn’t yet exist

And then they finally reach Mount Doom, which one artist described as 

“where the ring was made, which represents, in a sense, the moment of creation itself”

[tales-of-a-traveller]

       J. R. R. Tolkien

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Imagine Legolas saving you after being captured by orcs

Request for: caaptain

Original request: “Hiii! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could request one. A legolas x reader where the reader (she’s an elf) gets captured by the orcs and gets hurt badly and Legolas saving her and taking her back to safety and just a lot of fluff? Don’t know if requests are open but if they are pleeeaaaseee!! Love u”

 Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warning: Violence and injury

Note: My first one-shot on this account in over two years (and the longest one at that)! Didn’t quite finish it (not as much fluff at the end as I imagine you wanted), but I will be happy to do a Part 2 if people want. I just really wanted to get a one-shot out whilst I still had inspiration.

As a lone scout, you really should have been better prepared for the eventuality that sooner or later you’d be faced with an enemy without a clear get-away. Legolas had been travelling with the hunting party a few leagues behind you, ardently tracking a nearby pack of orcs and following the signals you left for him. He had trusted you to search ahead, knowing that your seemingly ethereal ability to almost float in the wind as you ran would make you much less likely to be tracked by any orc who became aware of your presence. Your job was not to fight those who you came across, only to keep your distance and return to Legolas with the news of what lay ahead. As such, your weaponry consisted only of a short dagger which you kept strapped to your waistband. Anything heavier would slow you down, and speed and light-footedness was of the essence. You hoped it wouldn’t ever come to combat when you were on your own.

Your struggles began when you located a lone pair of orcs resting beneath a large oak tree, taking a moment to wipe the blood and grime from their crudely made weapons with their loincloths. You knew that two orcs on their own was a strange occurrence, yet for some reason you didn’t question it and continued watching them from your perch in the tree above them.

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[tales-of-a-traveller]

The Houses of Healing was a large infirmary in the higher levels of Minas Tirith. As it’s name implies, it was used as a hospital for the sick and injured of Gondor. It features prominently after the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Faramir was sent here after being saved from Denethor’s attempt to burn him. Merry and Éowyn were also sent here after fighting the Witch King in the battle, where they both contracted the Black Shadow. Ioreth, the eldest woman working in the Houses of Healing, was worried about all three, and their fatal conditions, proclaiming that ‘The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.’. Gandalf heard this and summoned Aragorn to the Houses to help, where Aragorn proved his kingship (and knowledge of old lore) by caring for them all with Athelas (Kingsfoil in Common tongue), the herb that healed them and could defeat the Black Shadow. While the Armies of the West marched on the Black Gate Faramir and Éowyn had still not left the Houses, and though Éowyn initially wanted to join the battle, she decided to remain with Faramir, where the two fell in love.

“So at last Faramir and Éowyn and Meriadoc were laid in beds in the Houses of Healing; and there they were tended well. For though all lore was in these latter days fallen from its fullness of old, the leechcraft of Gondor was still wise, and skilled in the healing of wound and hurt, and all such sickness as east of the Sea mortal men were subject to. Save old age only. For that they had found no cure; and indeed the span of their lives had now waned to little more than that of other men, and those among them who passed the tale of five score years with vigour were grown few, save in some houses of purer blood. But now their art and knowledge were baffled; for there were many sick of a malady that would not be healed; and they called it the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgûl. And those who were stricken with it fell slowly into an ever deeper dream, and then passed to silence and a deadly cold, and so died. And it seemed to the tenders of the sick that on the Halfling and on the Lady of Rohan this malady lay heavily. Still at whiles as the morning wore away they would speak, murmuring in their dreams; and the watchers listened to all that they said, hoping perhaps to learn something that would help them to understand their hurts. But soon they began to fall down into the darkness, and as the sun turned west a grey shadow crept over their faces. But Faramir burned with a fever that would not abate.“

- The wounded after the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and before Aragorn comes to the rescue. Return of the King, The Houses of Healing.

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could please submit a request if you are still accepting them.

Hi love! Yes, of course you can submit a request! Just drop one in my ask box :)

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Dear Fanfiction Readers,

If you’re afraid to leave a review/comment because you think it’ll sound stupid, don’t be. Just leave an incoherent reply in all caps. We love that shit.

Sincerely,

A Fic Writer that needs constant validation. 

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Reader: There are like, five orcs trying to kill us!

Legolas: Actually, there are eight,

Reader: Oh sorry, I wasn’t specific enough!

[tales-of-a-traveller]

I dunno man I just don’t think there’re enough fics with Aragorn out there.

[tales-of-a-traveller]

AragornxReader “Were you dropped on your head?!”

Requested by anon! '12 with Aragorn please! Maybe reader does something stupid in battle or something'

Prompt 12: "Were you dropped on your head?" 

Want to request a one-shot based on a prompt? See all prompts here!

Characters: (slight mention of female!)Reader, Aragorn

Warnings: Mentions of injury, blood and slightly angsty. Oh and curse words. But ends in fluff <3

Word count: 941

Summary: During the battle of Helm's Deep, not everyone is as skilled as our future King of Gondor...

It was dark and cold. Rain poured down the black battlements and the sound of the falling droplets was drowned out by the sounds of war. 

There was a constant clanging of metal on metal, whooshing of arrows and screams. So. Many. Screams. Battle cries by the bravest, cries for their mother by others. And black cries hurled into the night by the Uruk-Hai. 

The first time this cacophony reached your ears it made you stop dead in your tracks. But now, after countless hours of fighting, helping people up and trying to get an overview of the battle, it seemed like a white noise. All sounds fused into deep rumbling that, if anything, made your head clearer. 

It hadn't been much or you would've not even been here, above the ground. You had been sent into the caves, together with the other women and children, but you had tried to convince Aragorn that you were of much more use above ground. He had been stubborn and had forbid you to leave the safety of the Glittering Caves. 

Of course, you had been very stubborn, too, and after a seemingly endless argument he had given in (under slight pressure of Legolas). So here you were, in the midst of the battle of Helm's Deep which seemed without end.

"RETREAT!! RETREAT!!"

Your head shot up as you localised the source of the sound - Aragorn was standing about ten feet away from you near a wooden gate that lead to the inner keep. You had to retreat within its thick walls, hide like cowards and do a desperate attempt at successfully keeping the Uruk-Hai away. Men started to run towards the gate and you could see various arms reaching through the gap, pulling people into safety.

"Will it ever end?" you whisper as you make your way towards the gate, stepping over various bodies on the ground and making sure you don't slip on fallen shields or some substance you don't want to know the origin of. You pick up your pace as you hear the stomping of hundreds of Uruk-Hai boots behind you. 

"RUN!!" Aragorn's voice carries across the outer keep and as you quickly look to your side you notice that you are the only one left from Rohan's side... Who is still alive, that is.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" You sprint up the stairs, every fibre in your body focusing on not falling... Not tripping...

You reach the gate just in time and jump through it as it closes directly behind you. There's so many men staring at you, looking down at you that you decide to keep your head down, grasping your sword tightly in your hand as you walk a little bit further. 

It feels like the battle has been paused for the blink of an eye. The outer keep is swarming with Orcs, but it takes them a few minutes to transport the ladders to the higher walls of the inner keep. There's a pounding at the gate, but enough men to guard it for now. 

"Fuck," you whisper again as you take in the damage from your run towards safety. There's a nasty scratch on your right arm, either due to a nearly-missed Uruk knife or something sharp from the gate itself. Should be fine.

"Were you dropped on your head?!"

Big hands suddenly turn you around and you drop your sword in surprise, the metal making an eerie sound as it bounces once on the stones. 

"W-What? No!"

Stern grey eyes are fixed on yours, dark eyebrows betraying their emotion. "Why on earth did you not retreat when I told you so?" Aragorn hissed, careful not to make a scene in front of the other men. "You were the only one left in the outer keep! They were on your heels!"

"I-" you take a big shuddering breath "I- I know, okay?" You felt anger bubbling up inside of you. It wasn't your fault! "I just didn't want to fall as I ran and meet our creator prematurely!"

"Well, you almost did!"

"The ground was littered with things I nearly slipped on!"

"You didn't even sprint towards the gate!"

"I did!"

"Yes, after I reminded you to!"

"Well-" your voice is caught in your throat as you search for words to spit back at him. "Well I-" you start again, but there's nothing left to throw at him. 

You suddenly drop you shoulders and just look into Aragorn's eyes, your gaze flickering across his face, too. There's a lot of black blood on it, and his hair is drenched in rain, blood and sweat. A small smile dances across your lips as you take him in.

Suddenly he drops his arms and instead holds your hand in his. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just that-" he uses his other hands to wipe his forehead clean and massage his eyebrows. "God, I wouldn't know what to do without you."

"Oh, Aragorn," you whisper as you pull him close. He smells like death, and so do you, but for now it's enough that you can still hold him. And he you.

"Let's get this over with," he whispers, placing a small kiss on your temple and crouching down to pick up your sword. 

"Use it well, my Lady," he grins as he places it back into your hand. 

You bow your head as a grin spreads across your face, too. "See you at dawn?" He quickly nods before he turns around and runs towards the gate, where the men are having trouble holding it.

"Dawn it is," you mutter as the battle resumes.

[tales-of-a-traveller]

I’m so glad I found your blog!

Aw thank you so much! I'm glad you like it :)

Don't forget to drop a request in my askbox!!

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Hi💕 I was wondering if I could make a request. Maybe something like this: Reader is one of the river folk, she lives in Rivendell because her parents abandoned her nearby and an elf found her (Lord Elrond). The fellowship comes and she joins. And a certain hobbit (Pippin) gains a crush. He says nothing because he thinks it is not returned and they end up separated when he goes to Gondor. After the battle they are both extremely worried about eachother, and then fluff entails

Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request!! I absolutely looove the idea! So, I hope I did it justice :)

Characters: Pippin, Reader (she/her)

Warnings: mentions of blood, battle, pain, some angst

Word count: 1170

Summary: What happens when two hobbits reunite after the battle of Gondor? A bit of angst and lots of fluff

You can hear the small clinking of water streams running from the edge into the depths below. The glistering of the rays of sun, reflected by the countless pools appeared as specks of light, some white and some in all the colours of the rainbow. And some seem to burn like fire on your arms. Suddenly your eyes shoot open and your lungs suck in the foul air. A cough leaves your lips and your eyes water because of the smoke still in the air. For a moment, you close your eyes again and the white stone that has turned to grey makes place for a fading picture of the Imladris valley, the place where you were brought up. The valley in which you took your first steps, where you learned the Elvish language and the Common Tongue. The valley where the Fellowship was formed and the valley you left forever.

The image fades and your eyes open again, and with your vision your sense of pain returns, too. But just as you want to inspect your arm, your thoughts drift to a certain hobbit… “Pippin,” you whispered, looking around and expecting to see the familiar head of blonde curls in the crowd. But there was no crowd. And there were no golden curls. You were all alone.

“Pippin,” you said again, your voice echoing harsh against the walls, once white but now dotted with splashes of red and black blood. You put your hands on the ground, but just as you want to shift your balance, you felt the sickening stickiness of blood on them. And suddenly something in your head clicked: you had to find Pippin. You had to see him. And you definitely needed to get away from this place.You pushed yourself up, leaning against the wall as you wobbled on your legs.

“Come on,” you tried to tell yourself. “You have to think. Where is the largest possibility to meet him? If he’s alive of c- no. No no no. Don’t think like that. He’s alive. He has to be. Where can he be. Where am I?”

You looked around and cursed yourself for not knowing more about this city. How many circles did it have again? Seven? You looked up and groaned as you once again encountered the buildings of men. Which were so tall it was hard to see anything else. The elves at least took their space, leaving vast open spaces between buildings. You slid along the wall and finally found a small hole through which you could look onto the lands below. There were two city circles. And plains filled with death. “Two circles down it is,” you said, your mind clearer now you had a purpose.

So that is exactly what you did. With your mind fixed on his presence, you found the main road and stumbled down its large, round stones. There were others, now, too, but they were too busy with their own distress or someone else’s that no one seemed to pay attention to a small figure making their way down. All were Big People, and none paid attention to anything or anyone smaller than them, as they always did. “Pippin?” you said as you reached the lowest level, thinking your chances would be bigger to meet him down here.

You did not know whether it was wrong to assume he would not be in a higher circle, or maybe already in the Houses of Healing. However, you were very, very sure it had been the biggest mistake to not see him properly off when he suddenly had to leave with Gandalf. Oh, that foolish Took.

“Pippin!” you called, your shouts becoming more frantic now. You had to find him. You had to find that foolish hobbit. But it was so hard to find someone small in a crowd of tall people. Your cries seemed to be only noticed by Men, who now started to whisper among themselves.

“Is that one of the Periannath?”

“It’s not a child, that’s for sure.”

“I thought there was only one in this city?”

“Pippin? Has anyone seen Pippin? Peregrin Took?”

No one seemed to listen, and the ones who did shook their head.

“PIPPIN!” you cried out as you felt your feet give way under the exhaustion. You hit the ground hard, pebbles digging into your hands and cutting them open. You let out a scream of frustration, anger and pain.

“Y/N?”

Your ears perked at the familiar voice. “Pippin?”

“Y/N?”

It was louder now, and the voice brought back memories you didn’t know you could recall in this horrible place. The golden leaves of Laurelindórenan, the echoing of your laughter across the Anduin…

“Y/N!”

You looked behind you and let out a cry of relief. There, running towards you now, was Pippin, clad in the armour of the citadel and his golden curls shone in the light of the morning sun. He fell down next to you, softly holding your face in his hands. There were tears shining in his eyes, which matched the ones rolling down your cheeks.

“I never thought I - I though you - I thought we -”

“I’m here,” you whispered, at which he fell into your arms. You didn’t feel his tears staining your shirt or his curls brushing your cheek. All you could feel were his arms around your back, keeping you close to him and making sure to never let you go again.

He pulled his head back and softly wiped the curls that had stuck to your wet cheeks away from your face. “I never told you,” he said, swallowing hard and trying to calm his breathing. “But I never should have left you. And I have known from the moment I saw your hair. And when I almost fell out of that Mallorn. And you splashed water of the Great River on me with your paddle. And -”

“I honestly cannot follow your train of thought” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Well, what I want to say is…” he paused. “What I have always wanted to say but was too cowardly to do is… I love you, Y/N. I have a big, fat crush on you. Larger than the Caradhras. Bigger than this entire city, than, than-”

“I love you too,” you interrupt him, the words leaving your lips like a sigh of relief.

He pauses, bewildered. “You… You do?”

You nodded. “I just… Especially now, I couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. I just… I knew I had to find you. And,” you smiled, pulling him closer. “I did.”

His face split into the biggest grin and he tried to contain himself. “Well, Y/N… Would it be okay if I kissed you, then?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, Peregrin Took, you may.”

His eyes twinkled as he closed the distance between the two of you, and you didn’t notice the cheers of the Big Folk around you as you finally kissed your fool of a Took.

[tales-of-a-traveller]

[tales-of-a-traveller]

let’s stop seeing sex as the biggest thing you can do to show someone you love them

[tales-of-a-traveller]

aowyn’s winter celebration - fangorn for @eomer (get your own!)

When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay; When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day; When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain I’ll look for thee, and call to thee; I’ll come to thee again! When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last; When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past; I’ll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again: Together we will tkae the road beneath the bitter rain!

Together we will take the road that leads into the West, And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.

[tales-of-a-traveller]

AragornxReader “So... are you in?”

Characters: Aragorn, Reader

Warnings: None! Just lots of fluff

Word count: 560

Summary: You try to cheer Aragorn up and, well, succeed beautifully

Another requested by @thinklistenlove​, thank you for the inspiration my dear :)

You were walking through Rivendell, relishing in the sun that extended its rays into the Hidden Valley, when you suddenly spotted Aragorn. He was sitting on a bench, staring into the distance, his eyes following the course of the Bruinen.

“Hey,” you said, standing next to him. 

He did not respond.

“Hey,” you repeated, waving your hand in front of his face. He blinked and looked up, his brows furrowed.

“You okay?” 

“Yes, of course,” he responded, rather agitated and returning his gaze to the Bruinen.

You pondered over what could possibly cheer the Ranger up, when suddenly an idea came to mind.

“How about a game?”

“A game of riddles? No thank you.”

“Not a game of riddles!” you said, sighing at his reluctance. “How about first letter, last letter? I’m sure it will cheer you up.” 

You did not wait for his response and sat next to him. You knew he would never ignore you, if you just kept talking, so that is exactly what you did.

“Do you know it?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“Let me explain it to you. We’ll pick a category - let’s say… place names. Taking turns, we’ll say a place name, the first letter of which must correspond with the last letter of the last place name. If I’ll say Gondor, you’ll say-”

“Rohan,” he mumbled without skipping a beat.

You grinned at his quick response. “Yes, yes indeed. Also, you cannot wait more than 3 seconds before replying nor can you say the same name twice. If you do, you lose. So… are you in?”

He shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you said. “I’ll start: Hobbiton.”

“Nan Curunir, the valley of Saruman.”

“Yes, I know,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not stupid, you know. Rivendell.”

“Laurelindorenan.”

“So extra,” you laughed. A small grin played on his lips, but quickly vanished. “Northfarthing.”

This continued for some time, until the majority of the places had been named and it had become increasingly difficult for the both of you to come up with new ones.

“Azanulzibar,” Aragorn said, his eyes no longer looking at the Bruinen but instead looking at you.

You laughed. “What on earth is that? That’s wrong, for sure.”

“It isn’t.” he replied. “It’s an area east of Khazad-dum, including the Kheled-zaram.”

“Now you’re just making things up!”

“Have you never been to Moria my Lady?”

You felt uncomfortable. A shadow lay on that place. “Of course not. I’d rather live, thank you very much. Ravenhill.”

“Lond Daer. It’s a former Numenorean port.”

You shook your head. “Now you’re just playing me! Romanoros.”

Now it was Aragorn’s turn to frown. “And what may that be?”

“It’s… a small hill! In… the southfarthing of the Shire! Have you never heard of it?”

He shook his head and grinned. “That’s nothing.”

“It is!”

“Alright then… Samon Sul.”

“That’s just Amon Sul with an S in front of it!”

“No,” he replied. “It’s a small hill next to it…”

You laughed and poked his side. “I do not believe it, Aragorn son of Arathorn, not one bit!”

He laughed and clutched his side, steadying himself on the bench. “Also, it’s been three seconds! I won!”

You gasped in fake horror. It did not last for long, for you could not help but join him as he laughed uncontrollably in the setting sun.

Aww that turned out so cute! Anyway, if you liked it and want a oneshot of your own, make sure to drop one in my askbox!

[tales-of-a-traveller]

Just A Sprain - Lord of the Rings

“Could I request a spouse!Aragorn where he takes care of you when you get injured because you refused to go see Elrond, but then you get really bad, so he carries you to see him?”

“Tis just a sprain.” You said, limping to a chair.

“You don’t know that. It could be broken.” Aragorn knelt in front of the chair and gently tugged off your boot. You bit back a wince, attempting to remain emotionless. Aragorn ran a calloused finger around the edge of your ankle. Only the slightest hint of swelling revealed that anything was wrong, though the pain you felt made it abundantly clear to yourself.

“Lord Elrond would be able to…” he began to say, looking up.

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