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cauliflowertree · 1 year

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faramir - kiss me like you want to be loved.

summary: a long-awaited confession.

word count: 2.4k

fanfic no. 041

a/n: boromir lives because i say so.

it was a difficult farewell between the close brothers of gondor. but both were optimistic they would reunite not too far in the future—both were astute and praised warriors, trained from the day each of them could hold a sword upright.

between you and faramir, the cautious goodbye was somewhat tainted in awkwardness. neither of you were brave enough at the present moment to admit the feelings that plagued you both, effecting judgement, sleep and the completion of even minor tasks for many years now.

“farewell, y/n,” he spoke softly, a hitch in his breath, hesitantly raising an arm, wondering if he was crossing the delicate line of propriety.

“farewell, faramir,” you replied, abandoning predetermined notions of decorum as you finished what he had started, pulling him into a quick embrace, the first you had ever shared. and perhaps the last.

when you released him from your hold, his gaze was fixed upon you, awestruck from the emotions that arose within him from such a simple gesture, beginning to regret that he could not take his brothers place and curse the father that did not trust him with the task. with his mouth agape, and eyes almost sleepy, and heart in torment, he watched you back away from him, stepping into line with his older brother.

he was the last citizen of gondor to remain at the city’s uppermost region, watching you and his brother ride off into the horizon. as such, he felt an abyss form within his stomach, guilt rousing it all the more from the words he left unspoken. he had waved his brother off jeopardy, but of his life he was not as concerned as he was with yours. all his youth and adulthood, he had admired you from afar, shadowed you everywhere you ventured, unstable when he was not near you.

and now, you crossed middle earth without him, courage and bravery in your heart as you promised to fight for those who could not, if the task should fall to you. he had failed to seize the opportunity to reveal to you the object of his desires. and now, as you disappeared into the distance, he feared it was too late for another opportunity to present itself.

he may see no tomorrow, what with the armies of mordor inching closer to minas tirith, each time leaving gondor with fewer men to defend its borders.

but he hoped, he let himself hope.

｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

the trials of the fellowship had taken much of your spirit, only to be stressed by the fall of gandalf the grey. the elderly wizard had provided you with much wisdom and a perfected skillset, and his absence was dearly felt, but by no one more than yourself, someone he might have considered his family.

frodo and sam had begun the disbandment of your company, leaving you behind to pursue a trickier path, but one they must face alone. boromir had been seriously injured, almost fatally, enough that merry and pippin had been captured by an orc pack. but they had now returned, safe and sound where they belonged. though, dear pippin could not stay out of trouble for long.

and gandalf, it seemed, could not stay fallen for long.

“what’s going to happen to me?” asked pippin gloomily, kicking pieces of hay in the barn as you waited for gandalf.

“nothing is going to happen to you, dear pippin. you are safe from sauron if you remain with me and gandalf,” you assured him, ruffling his loose, curly locks.

“how long have you known gandalf?” asked pippin curiously.

“oh! a long time now—since my infancy. he took me under his wing long ago, and i have much to be grateful for,” you smiled fondly.

“i don’t think he likes me,” pippin frowned. “but then, i suppose, i am very accident prone.”

“i think sometimes you do without thinking. but you are young, and gandalf knows this. but he has lived many years, and can sometimes forget what ails the youth, such as yourself,” you explained, and added: “he cares for your safety, otherwise he would not get so angry.”

pippin seemed to accept this truth with a sunny disposition, his mood greatly improving upon hearing your explanation, taking it for nothing but the truth.

“merry!” he cried, rushing off to greet his friend.

“y/n,” called boromir, offering you a full water canister, in addition to your own. “do send my brother my well wishes.”

“of course, boromir. i am sure he will be delighted to hear of you.”

boromir laughed lightly. “yes, a brother’s bond is strong. though, i am sure he will be much more inclined to be delighted with your return.”

you smiled bashfully, turning away as heat crept into your cheeks. a hearty laugh sounded from behind you, and boromir clapped your back. “i see much,” he reminded you. "safe journey!" he called as he exited the barn in search of aragorn.

with a weepy send off between merry and pippin, you, gandalf and pippin set off for minas tirith. a flutter in your heart arose at the chance of seeing faramir again, barely entertaining the thought that he had fallen to an orc’s sword or axe. faramir was the best of his ranks, no doubt he was alive and well. and boromir’s encouragement did little to settle your nerves—the thought of reciprocation was almost too much to bear.

three day’s ride felt like nothing, despite the tribulations you’d been through these past months, for faramir awaited at the end of your journey. as the white city peeked above the distant horizon, shaded with hues of pink and orange, you pushed faster through the expanse that kept you from your destination.

pippin slept against gandalf’s chest, somehow unbothered by the erratic journey. and before long, your two horses were climbing the streets of minas tirith, warning passersby of your coming. the white tree in pippin's vision stood strong, undead—a ray of hope remained for frodo and sam.

you were home.

some hours had passed in gondor, no faramir in sight, and within that time the steward had made perfectly clear he would not call for aide, nor would he accept the ranger as king. but it all temporarily came to naught as the cries of nazgûl sounded from beyond the city walls.

hundreds of horses raced from osgaliath across the grassy expanse, fleeing from the fight they could not win against such forces. the winged beasts took them from above, grasping several men and horses between their talons and launching them through the air.

your sank through your chest, palms instantly bearing sweat as you feared for faramir’s safe return. he was, quite clearly, outnumbered by many, though he had proved to make a rational decision in the midst of war by ordering his men to fall back. still, the terror that gripped you was all-consuming, almost enough to bring you to your knees, for you could scarcely bear to watch.

you turned to gandalf in silent, desperate worry, and he understood the urge you felt to flee the castle walls and help in some way if you could, if it meant they would be saved.

you and gandalf rode out. a light from gandalf’s staff, bright and unrelenting forced the nazgûl away and brought the army of men to safety, faramir included. you could see him, almost clearly in the ranks of his men, riding fast to the city gate. he dared to turn and meet your gaze. the fear had subsided, though the adrenaline remained, and you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, closing your eyes and letting the wind whip through your hair as you silently thanked silent forces for this fortune.

when the danger had slipped away, faramir dismounted his horse and wasted no time in approaching you. he was breathless, tired, but alert. it was a quick, silent moment you thought he might break with a laugh or a welcoming embrace, but instead, questioned you of his brother, to which you informed him of his safety and health. he turned to pippin with a start next, filling you and gandalf with unbridled hope as he revealed he had seen two halflings alive and well not so long ago.

and afterwards, with as much decorum between the two of you as distant strangers, he walked with you and gandalf to meet his father. quietly, he fell back in line with you, conversing with you rather formally, despite that not ten minutes before he almost deserted decency to embrace you without hesitation. but he restrained himself, for what reason he could not quite remember.

entering the castle, feeling, finally, much safer now that he was deep within the city, he let himself look at you. you seemed well, and he hoped that was how you truly felt too. he thought of you often in your absence, though over time, little details and intricacies of your features had slipped away from memory. but now that they were before him again, he smiled familiarly, admiring you for all that you were.

“i must replenish myself,” faramir informed you, hoping you might follow him so he would be blessed with a moment alone with you.

“yes, of course,” was your meek response.

he hesitated slightly, unaware if you had caught onto his subtle indication and were politely refusing or whether it had passed over your head completely. and so he left without another word, jaw clenched and shaking his head at the fool he had made himself look.

“well, aren’t you going to follow him?” asked pippin in disbelief when he was far enough away that his little comment would go unheard.

“whatever do you mean, little one?” you asked with a scoff.

“that is clearly a man who wishes to be followed!”

you trailed his gaze, catching faramir looking behind, but laughed it off instantly. “i- no. you’re mistaken.”

“i am not!” replied pippin, looking to gandalf for approval.

you looked to the old wizard yourself too, hoping for assurance on your behalf, but found nothing of the sort as he smirked at pippin and raised his eyebrows. with nothing leaving his lips, you understood perfectly the meaning of his silence.

most embarrassed by the scene, you hurried off in pursuit of the gentlemen who had left you behind in the hopes that you would follow. but for all your desires that he might wish for you the way you wished for him, catching the signs of this reciprocation was much more complicated than you might have imagined.

you turned down many passages, walked through several corridors, completely in the dark as to where he might have gone. you were so caught up in looking for him, in fact, that you missed him completely, and only found yourself face to face with the man when he called you back.

he had been staring at an old piece of art in the castle, one he must have seen and admired a dozen times before, but had needed something with which to occupy himself as he waited and hoped to see you.

“i was looking for you,” was all you spoke, unsure of how to begin.

“you found me, it seems,” he laughed. “with a little aid.”

he let his smile fade slowly, searching for the words in his crowded mind so that he might perfectly convey all that he thought in regards to his feelings for you. he gestured to an empty bench before the painting that hung tall, sitting close beside you.

“i have been meaning, for some time now, to tell you that which i have kept from you,” he began, keeping you on the edge of your seat. “from our youth, though i did not know it then, i have felt for you something i have never felt for another. and…” his breath was trembling, his eyes fixed to his hands. you took them warmly into yours, and this forced him to meet your eyes, where he found the utmost encouragement. “and when you left those weeks ago, i have regretted every moment since that i did not tell you then exactly how i felt.”

“and how do you feel?” you asked him, needing to hear it after so long.

“i feel…i feel as if- as if you- no. when i am in battle,” said he, “and my sword is kicked from my grasp, the enemy bearing down upon me, it is not, though perhaps it should be, for my men that i find the strength to stand again, to fight with my bare hands if i must. it is not for the approval of my father, nor even for my brother. when i am an inch from death, i find my strength in you, i find my courage in you. my hope, in the thought that i would see you again.”

“faramir,” you whispered through a breath of disbelief, that an honourable man such as he would care for you so deeply, a wayward soul under the influence of a wandering wizard. “i could not wish for a better man to have said these words to me. you are the best i could hope for, and truly i did hope for you,” you laughed through your tears, struggling to find breath under the weight of this joyous revelation.

“my y/n,” he chuckled, his teary eyes following the down-turn of your head as you pulled his hands up to your lips.

cupping your jaw delicately, he raised your eye-line to meet his, gazing upon you like a revered work of art. softly, he brushed your tears away with the pad of his thumb, leaning in cautiously but eagerly for something which the both of you had craved for an eternity. his mouth brushed yours tentatively, opening your lips to accommodate his own. and the pair of you were set ablaze, suddenly and feverishly reaching for each other as if you were not close enough already—his tunic gripped between your fingers, your hand over his neck while his arm snuck around your waist and fingers tangled into your hair.

distantly, he heard his father’s bellows, and it pulled him from you reluctantly. resting his forehead against yours, he regained much of the breath he had lost in your shared embrace, taking a moment to recover.

“i must go,” he said lowly, the baritone in his voice causing you to shiver.

“come and find me when you are done.”

“i would not think to do anything else,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head before stoically marching towards his father’s inevitable disapproval.

though his approval, in comparison to yours, was trivial.

🏷 @velvetcloxds @entishramblings

#faramir x reader #faramir x you #faramir imagine #faramir of gondor #faramir fic #faramir #lotr faramir #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr imagine #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings fanfiction

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middleearthpixie · 7 months

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Living Proof ~ Chapter Nineteen

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen. She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits@way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Chaos. Chaos exploded all around Minas Tirith, with the shriek and scream of the winged fell beasts that swooped along the uppermost of tier of the city. White stone shattered, raining chunks of debris from one end of the city to the other as its denizens scattered.

Soldiers ran this way and that as they raced to their stations and amidst the madness, Gandalf’s voice rang out clear. “Aim for the trolls!”

Whatever else he shouted was lost to Kaia was she followed a legion of soldiers toward the main gate, where she then stopped dead at the sight of orcs spilling over the gate and the white wizard sprang into action, scolding one of the hobbits—one she recognized as having been in the clearing at Amon Hen—for trying to fight alongside the others.

Again, his words lost as she was swept up in the battle. Ignoring the sting in her sore arm, Kaia whipped her blade about at anything that even remotely resembled an orc. But there were simply too many and it wasn’t long before she lost sight of Gandalf, of the hobbit, of the other soldiers. All that mattered was staying alive as long as she could.

Metal sang against metal, the clangs deafening and the vibration of her steel meeting that wielded by creatures twice her size made her arms and shoulders and hands ache. But it didn't matter to her, for she kept swinging. Sweat soaked her hair, her tunic, slid into her wounds to sharpen the sting further, but she ignored it. Vengeance was hers and she would take it, for her village, her family, her dog, for Faramir, for Madril, for the countless soldiers who continued to fight alongside her for their own reasons, both great and small.

But most of all, she kept swinging for Boromir.

The day wore on, and the orc army fell back to regroup. The quiet was unnerving as far as Kaia was concerned. If there was one thing she did not like, it was the eerie silence that fell before something massive happened. Good or bad, she always hated waiting. Patience was not one of her strengths and she’d much rather just do than wait.

She got her wish as the Great Gate was breached and once more, orcs flooded into Minas Tirith. The moon bathed everything in a silver wash that would have been peaceful, had it not been for the bedlam around her. She lost track of all time, of all sense of where she was and what she was doing and it was amazing that as short as her training had been, her reflexes were that of one who’d spent years honing her craft. She didn't stop to think, but simply reacted and somehow managed to keep her head firmly attached to her neck, and her limbs where they belonged. Someone watched over her and guided her. It was the only explanation she could come up with.

Fire rained from above. Orcs and trolls flooded the streets winding about the city’s tiers, slaughtering anything and everything in their path without so much as pausing. They just rushed forward like a wave of evil. Gandalf flew by, pure white speed, as he and his his horse directed the battle.

“Get the women and children out!” His voice thundered through the streets. “Retreat!”

He shouted this as he galloped off and Kaia didn't stop to see what anyone else was doing. Instead, she took off toward the apartments, to the interior buildings where Gondor’s women and children had taken shelter.

She followed two soldiers as they threw open the door and shouted, “Retreat!” before turning and running to the next chamber to repeat the order without explanation, leaving scores of upset and confused women and their equally upset and confused children.

“Come with me,” she said to the first wide-eyed woman just inside the threshold. “We need to go now. Gather the children and come with me at once!”

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow me, please. We need to leave this place right now.”

Children’s voices mingled. Babies cried. Women fretted. Kaia shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying hard to not frighten them more than they were already frightened, but she could hear the thunder, the clang, the screams coming from below, and knew they had not much time left.

Then, a low horn bleated out, sweeping from beyond the city’s walls and for a moment, she spent about, expecting to see Boromir come bounding up the cobbled road, the massive horn he’d had at Amon Hen banging against his hip.

But that was foolish, of course. He was gone. His head lay somewhere on one of Gondor’s ramparts with the others. She was on her own once more and these women needed her. Their children needed her. She was not about to let them down.

She scooped up a little girl who couldn't have been more than four years of age and cradled her in her arms as she said, “Come with me now, all of you.”

And with that, they followed her while she followed the soldiers who led them down to the farthest edges of the city, where a door led to the catacombs of the mountain Minas Tirith had been built into.

She set the little girl down as two of other soldiers went to light the scones mounted on the stone walls. As they flickered to life, one of them said, “You are to remain here until someone comes for you. Barricade the door.”

The little girl grabbed Kaia by the leg. “Please stay.”

She crouched before the girl and smoothed her tangle of blonde hair away from her face. “I cannot stay, love. But, I promise you, I will come back and fetch you once it is safe. Where is your mother?”

The little girl shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned to look out at the women huddled all about the cave. “I don't see her.”

“I’ll keep watch over her.”

Kaia smiled a the woman standing alongside the little girl, a baby in her arms as well. “See, love? You’ll be just fine here. And when it’s safe to do so, we will find your mother. All right?”

The little girl didn't look at all convinced, even as she leaned her head against the woman next to her and nodded. “All right.”

“Everything will be fine,” Kaia told her. Then, she straightened up, touched the little girl’s cheek, and turned to follow the soldiers back out of the cave and back up to the where the fighting still raged.

But then, something happened. Another horn blew and as Kaia came atop the rampart, she stopped dead in her tracks at the faint greenish glow that lingered in the air. She heard battle, but saw only orcs falling, not what felled them.

Then, as suddenly as the battle began, it was over. She stood there, staring out at the destruction across the fields Boromir referred to as Pelennor. Bodies—orc, man, and beast—lay strewn as far as the eye could see, parts of the earth blackened and flattened from the violence that shattered everything in its path.

She swallowed hard as the breeze picked up, tugging her hair from the hasty knot into which she’d drawn it earlier. She felt grimy and exhausted, her arms and legs leaden with fatigue, and the burn in her shoulder came roaring back as the healers began moving about the ramparts, while soldiers down on the fields below went to work gathering the wounded to be brought to the houses of healing and the dead to be buried.

As far as she could see, Gondorian soldiers moved about the fields, and she wondered where Denethor had gone. Had he gone into hiding, the coward? Or had he fled and left his people to their own devices? Either way, he should burn with shame for the rest of his days for his cowardice.

Fury kinked her gut. Boromir and Faramir had both given their lives to protect Gondor, to protect its people. Their steward, however, had abandoned them when they needed him the most. The gutless coward.

Without thinking, she drew her sword with every intention of going up to the White Tower, where she would absolutely confront Denethor, should she find him. Although, why she thought he’d still be there, she didn't know, since the odds of that being true were most likely slim to none. Still, she simmered with such fury, such pure rage, that she had to vent it somehow and drawing and quartering the steward seemed like the place to start. At least, for the moment.

But that moment passed and Kaia sighed, sinking against the stone at the far end of the courtyard. She wasn’t confronting anyone. Not yet, anyhow. Exhaustion and weariness displaced any remaining fury as she really only wanted to put her head down and sleep. She felt wrung out and spent, but even so, the silence now was as eerie as the earlier silence and tired as she was, she couldn’t stand still. Re-sheathing her sword, she instead went below, to the shattered remains of the Great Gate, and out onto the still-somewhat smoking battle field. If nothing else, she could help with bringing the wounded in.

The full moon continued to bath everything in silver, only now, it offered up a peaceful glow. There was not much for her to do, as soldiers pushed her aside as they moved from body to body and in all actuality, there weren’t many wounded left. Wounded orcs met their maker while everyone else looked the other way and it was nearly midnight when all the world went still.

She stood out in the Pelennor Fields, amidst the dead who had yet to be buried or set aflame, and turned toward Minas Tirith, which was ablaze with life once more.

They didn't need her, really. She didn't belong there and without Boromir, she didn't want to be there. It didn't feel right any longer.

It was time to move on.

Boromir heard the battle long before he was near Minas Tirith, and despite the aches and pains that refused to abate, he moved faster still. It took hours on foot, and if the sound of battle made him move more swiftly, the absolute silence that followed had him running, his boots barely touching the ground as he made haste.

Thankfully, the moonlight guided him, but as he reached the edge of Pelennor Field, he stopped dead at the utter devastation that lay before him. The battle was over, Minas Tirith still stood, but he just stared at the aftermath, his gut twisting sharply.

People moved about the fields now, dragging dead orcs to be piled and burned, and as he strode along the rutted and burned field, his urge to get back into the city, to go and find Kaia, to find Faramir, to find his father, grew stronger with each step.

Although the Great Gate had been destroyed, repairs had already begun, haphazard though they might be, and something that resembled a gate had been erected in its place, although it sagged a bit and didn't quite meet up the way it should. But he didn’t pause to speak to anyone about it, nor did anyone he passed pay him any heed, either, which was suited him just fine, as it would only slow him down. Conversation would wait.

He made his way to the Citadel, where he spotted Gandalf at once in the courtyard, the whiteness of the wizard’s garb almost blinding him as he approached and said, “Where is my father? Where is Denethor?”

Gandalf turned to him and to Boromir’s surprise, didn't seem the least bit shocked to see him. “Welcome home, Boromir.”

“Thank you.” He looked about at the wide open doors leading into the White Tower, and a sense of foreboding crept over him. “Where is my father?”

“I’m afraid not,” Gandalf replied slowly, shaking his head as a look of sorrow crept over his lined and exhaust-looking face. “Come and I will explain.”

“Come where?”

“To your chamber,” the wizard replied softly.

“My—my chamber?” The kink in Boromir’s gut worsened and nausea swept through him. “What are you about? What are you not telling me.”

“I think you know the answer to that one already.”

“Oh… no…” Boromir shook his head, already starting for the tower doors. “No, he is not… he cannot be… what…”

“Come and I will tell you what happened.”

“Just tell me now.” He craned his neck to peer around the wizard. “And where is Faramir? Did his horse bring him home?”

“Faramir is here, in with Ioreth.”

“Thank the Maker…” Relief surged through Boromir with those words, although more concern crept up behind it. “And Kaia, where is she—wait, you would have no idea who she is, never mind where—”

“I most certainly do know who she is,” Gandalf broke in gently. “And she is also here. In the Houses of Healing as well.”

“What? What happened to her? Is she all right? And what of my father?”

“One thing at a time.”

Boromir tried to control his impatience as Gandalf explained what had happened, how Denethor had himself convinced he’d lost both of his sons and tried to immolate himself along with Faramir, who, of course, was not dead. Pippin was the reason why Faramir survived, while Denethor…

He squeeze his eyes shut as Gandalf explained that Denethor immolated himself and consequently flung himself off the Citadel. His throat tightened. His eyes stung.

He drew in a deep breath, exhaling as a shaky sigh. “So, when they needed him most, Denethor chose to be selfish and put himself first.”

“He thought he’d lost both of his sons, Boromir. His city was about to fall to the forces of Mordor.”

“And rather than defend it, he surrendered. No, he sacrificed it.””

“He was not in his right mind.”

“You don’t say.” Boromir rubbed his eyes. “And has Aragorn returned?”

“He has, indeed. He and Gimli and Legolas are below.”

“So the king has returned.” He managed a smile as he lowered his hand. A sense of hope stirred deep within him, one he hadn’t felt in a long time time. He would face his emotions where Denethor was concerned at a later date, when time permitted. But for now, he had hope—hope that the war might truly be over, and hope that Frodo might still destroy the Ring. “My father would be furious over it.”

“He would, indeed.” Gandalf’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “But the true question is, are you?”

“Furious?” Boromir shook his head. “I’m not, no. I never wanted the stewardship and that has not changed. If anything, I want it even less than before.”

He turned to face Gandalf. “But I would like to see my brother. And Kaia. Why is she in the infirmary?”

“I cannot answer that. She was found down just beyond the Great Gate, or what’s left of it. She was wounded in battle, so I’d assume that had something to do with it, but I cannot say for certain.”

“Then, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course.”

They parted ways then, and Boromir’s heart hammered his ribs as he drew near the Houses of Healing, which were brightly lit and buzzing with activity despite the late hour. Ioreth and her assistants had their hands full with the wounded, and so he didn't trouble to stop and ask her where Kaia might be. He’d find her after he looked in on Faramir.

“My lord,” Eldred, one of healers, smiled as he came into the section designated for the steward and his kin, “how do you fare? Do you need Ioreth?”

As he asked, this, Eldred came up to sweep Boromir’s hair away from his forehead, squinting as he examined the cut along his hairline. “My lord?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache,” he explained. “The bleeding stopped hours ago.”

“You should have her take a look, though.”

“When she gets a chance, after she’s finished with the wounded,” Boromir told him sternly. “And not a moment before.”

“If you’re certain.”

“I am absolutely certain.” Boromir bobbed his head. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course. If you need anything, just call.”

“I will.” He moved away from Eldred and catching sight of his brother, crossed the chamber to Faramir’s bedside.

The chair he pulled over scraped louder than he’d thought it would and he winced as Faramir’s eyes slowly opened. Still, relief flooded him as those eyes slid in his direction and Faramir whispered, “Do you mind?”

“Oh, am I disturbing you?”

“I was trying to sleep, so… yes.”

“Sleep? Sleep is for the weak.” Boromir sank into the chair with a grin. “There’s work to be done, you know. The Great Gate is toothpicks and yet here you are, lying abed as if without a care in the world.”

Faramir offered up a tired smile. “So I’ve heard.” His eyes closed briefly, then slid toward him once more. “How do you fare? Last I saw, you took an axe to the shoulder and it knocked you clean off your mount.”

“So, that’s what happened,” Boromir said, glancing at the torn shoulder of his tunic. “It will leave an interesting scar.”

“As long as you’re all right.”

“Same. You were in fairly poor shape when last I saw you.”

“I do not recommend traveling from Osgiliath to here on your back. It is not a pleasant experience. Especially when you’ve been pierced by arrows.”

Boromir chuckled then. “Try being dropped and rolling down an embankment after being struck by arrows. It isn’t any more pleasant.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

He nodded. “Kaia didn't mean to do it, she was trying to help me.” His stomach began churning once more. “Do you know where she is or why she was brought in here?”

“I do not. I’m sorry.” Faramir let out a yawn. “Let me sleep, will you? Go and find your girl. I know you’d rather be with her anyway.”

“She’s far cuter than you, little brother.” He wondered if Faramir knew about what had happened with Denethor and as he rose, asked, “Did Gandalf tell you what happened?”

“With Father?” Faramir nodded. “Yes. But, I cannot think about that now. Not yet.”

“Me, neither. I just… if you didn't know…”

“I know. Go. Find Kaia. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll look in on you again before I retire for the night.”

“You should have Ioreth look at your head. It’s a mess.”

“I know, Eldred said the same, but she’s busy. Besides, I think it’s too late to worry about having it sewn. What’s one more scar to add to my already rugged good looks.”

Faramir burst out laughing, then promptly groaned. “Don't make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Sorry. I forgot your fragile state.”

“Yes, yes. My fragile state. Go. Find your girl. I’ll see you come morning.” Faramir sank back into the pillows.

Boromir chuckled again as he left his brother’s chambers and found Eldred once more. “There is a woman here, close to my height, with long, curly red hair. Would you happen to know where she is?”

“She is in there,” Eldred gestured toward the chambers two doors down from Faramir’s. “With another lady.”

“What happened?”

Eldred shrugged. “I cannot say, my lord. I did not see her until only a short while ago.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

Boromir turned to make his way into Kaia’s chambers, pausing in the doorway as he peered into the room. There were two beds, both occupied, and from where he stood, he couldn't tell which woman was which.

His boots thudded softly against the stone as he strode across it. The bed nearest the door was occupied by a young woman with long pale gold hair. Definitely not Kaia. Her bed was the one nearest the window.

He moved to stand alongside it, gazing down at her. Her left cheek was bruised and she bore several small scrapes on that same cheek and across her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her lashes thick black crescents against her pale cheeks. Her chest softly rose and fell and without thinking, he slipped his hand beneath hers.

Her fingers tightened gently for a moment, then relaxed. With his free hand, he stroked her hair away from her forehead, then carefully bent and brushed a kiss just above her eyebrows.

Those black crescents fluttered, then her eyes opened and she blinked up at him in confusion for a few seconds. “Boromir?”

“It’s me.”

The confusion faded as her eyes went wide. “You’re not dead.”

“Am I supposed to be?”

“Well… yes… I mean, no… I mean, I thought you were, but I didn't see your head, so I couldn't be entirely certain, but I thought you had to be. There were no survivors.”

“They did not get me.” He smiled, stroking her hair lightly. “And I’m sorry if you were worried that they had. I did get struck by an axe, though, if that matters at all.”

He showed her the ugly wound, and she flinched. “Oh, you should have someone look at that.”

“I will. I wanted to see you and Faramir before I did anything else.”

She sat up with a slight wince. “Did he tell you what happened? To your father, I mean.”

“No. Gandalf did instead.”

“I’m so sorry,” she told him, catching his hand between both of hers.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” he told her, shaking his head. “He chose the easy way out.”

“Still… it’s a loss just the same.”

“What happened to you?” he asked. “You were wounded?”

“I’m fine. Ioreth was just being extra careful.” Kaia smiled as she met his eyes. “There’s something we need to talk about, Boromir.”

The seriousness in her eyes gave him pause and his gut twisted, his mouth going dry as he knew what her next words were going to be. There was only one reason he could think of that she would declare they needed to talk and although she smiled as she said it, he didn't miss the seriousness in her voice.

“Something we need to talk about?”

She nodded.

“Is it what I think it is?”

“That depends,” she replied. “What do you think it is?”

“Kaia?” His voice emerged as a whisper, “Are you pregnant?”

She held his gaze and then slowly nodded, and for a moment, he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His heart sped up with that bob, black dots dancing before his eyes. He swallowed hard. “How—how far along?”

“Ioreth thinks perhaps four weeks, possibly five.”

Five weeks. The first time they were together. He didn’t know why he should be surprised, other than it was their first time, but even that shouldn’t surprise him.

And yet, he felt completely blindsided by her revelation.

“Boromir?”

“I—that is you—I mean… this is the last thing I expected to hear today,” he said softly, trying to wrap his head around the enormity of what she’d just told him.

“I know. It was the last thing I expected to hear as well.” Her fingers tightened about his hand. “And I know we’ve not talked about… well… anything, really, and I know this is a surprise. For—for both of us.”

“So you intend to go through with it?”

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth, wincing as her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she nodded once more. “Yes. I do.”

“I… I’m sorry, Kaia, I just… you’ve caught me more off guard than anyone else has ever done before.”

“I realize that.” She slid her hands from his, folding them in her lap. “But, I didn’t think you would react this way.”

“I’m not reacting any way. I mean, how did you expect me to react? This was the last thing I thought I’d ever hear you tell me.”

“Why? I mean, I know the timing is terrible, but are you so surprised? We took no pre—” She looked about the room, then lowered her voice although the only other occupant was unconscious. “We took no precautions. It would have been but a matter of time.”

“Well, yes, but I thought you kept track of your days.”

Another mistake. Her shoulders stiffened and her eyes grew cold. “You thought I—Are you blaming me? For I am certain I did not do this alone.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not blaming you. At least, no more than I’m blaming me. The timing for this is terrible, Kaia. A child… we don't even know if there is any future left for any of us, for if Frodo doesn’t destroy the Ring…”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, Kaia. I just—”

“You just want me to not go through with it?”

He shook his head. “I didn't say that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Kaia—”

“What? You should.”

He bit back a sigh, his stomach still twisting into knots like mad. “Kaia—”

“I mean, I didn't expect you to be leaping for joy over this but I didn't think you’d react this way over it.”

“Kaia—”

“Well, don’t worry then,” she snapped, all but throwing herself back onto her bed. “I will do this on my own, just as I’ve done for the last year. So, you’re free to go, Boromir.”

“If you would just let me finish a blasted sentence!” He stepped back, throwing his hands up into the air. Then, mindful of the other woman in the room, caught himself and lowered his voice to almost whisper, “How did you expect me to react to it? This has come out of nowhere for me.”

“And it hasn’t for me?” She shook her head, her voice breaking. “Very well, you needn’t worry, Boromir. I will go back to my cabin and we will be just fine.”

“Well, now you’re just being foolish. You’ll do no such thing.”

“Oh, is that so? You know what? Leave me be! I have no wish to see you any longer.”

“Fine. I’ll come back when you calm down and we can talk this over like adults.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Fine.”

He spun about and marched out of the infirmary, past Ioreth, who offered up a knowing look but said nothing, and strode out onto one of the white stone terraces ringing the outside of the Houses of Healing.

It was another moonlit night, with a cold wind winding through the city’s tiers, but he paid it no heed as he stared out toward the Anduin, sparkling like a ribbon of diamonds in the distance.

A baby.

The icy wind wove through his hair, lifting it away from his face to toss it this way and that. He leaned his hands against the stone and peered out over Minas Tirith. Fatherhood was something he’d only ever giving a passing thought to, for it was not something he ever saw for himself. After all, he’d not met any woman he wished to be the mother of his children.

At least, he hadn’t until he met Kaia.

He turned back toward the building, arms folded as a chill set in. The timing was terrible, no doubt. He had no idea where Frodo was, or if Frodo was even still alive. The battle was over, but was the war nearing its end?

War had raged around him his entire life. He couldn’t honestly imagine a world without it, a world that would be safe enough to raise a child in.

But at the same time, a child was a symbol of hope, of a future where perhaps there would be no war.

So, why was he so damn unsure then?

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Sean Bean #Everybody Lives #Sons of Gondor

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ao3feed-tolkien · 1 year

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Adventures of Arda’s Greatest Inventor

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/K64N0zq

by SomeBird

A.K.A. Five Times Halbrand Smith Saw Galadriel Noldor, and One Time He Met Her

A year in life of Mordor City’s Halbrand the Greatest, until one fateful airship ride…

Words: 5738, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Welcome to Mordor City

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Galadriel | Artanis, Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Arondir (The Rings of Power), Bronwyn (The Rings of Power), Waldreg (The Rings of Power), Theo (The Rings of Power), Isildur (Tolkien)

Relationships: Galadriel | Artanis/Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Halbrand (The Rings of Power) & Bronwyn (The Rings of Power), Halbrand (The Rings of Power) & Arondir (The Rings of Power)

Additional Tags: 5+1, meet cute, meet-not-so-cute, Steampunk AU, Alternative Universe - Steampunk, Steampunk!Halbrand, Steampunk!Galadriel, Some may call him a charlatan but he prefers to be called an inventor, Friends that cover up murders together stay together, You’ve had ‘Fake Relationship’ Trope yes but how about ‘Fake Adultery’ now?, Halbrand Smith takes it for the team, Halbrand is personally victimized by a woman he hadn’t even met, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Denial of Feelings, If haughty why so cute?, excessive use of the word ‘automaton’, What Happens in Mordor City Stays in Mordor City, tumblr trop valentines 2023, valentines day, Day 5 - Meet Cute, TROP Valentine’s Week 2023

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/K64N0zq

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

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arrantsnowdrop · 3 years

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Informalities - Éomer x reader

Request: “Eomer x reader fic where the reader is from our world and Eomer listens to the stories the reader says of our world and he thinks that it is a grand place and so when they are finally getting together, Eomer feels kind of insecure cuz he feels he'll never live up to the reader's "standards" and the reader says that they are insecure because he is a prince and she has nothing"

Tags: @thewhiteladyofrohan

Warnings: mention of battles and death, about 2,200 words

A/N: Hoppy Easter lads and lasses, we are back from a many month writing hiatus. Hope y’all enjoy, I’m glad to be here :)

You genuinely had no idea how you’d ended up in Middle Earth.

It was one of those fever dream situations - one moment you were falling asleep in your own bed, and the next you were waking up at the bottom of a tree, surrounded by many bearded and concerned looking men.

Of course you’d been startled and so, so confused, but it had only taken you a few moments to recognize the characters from one of your favorite stories, and then you’d fully accepted your new reality.

By the time you first encountered the fellowship, they had already lost Gandalf at Moria and passed through the realm of Lothlorien. They were traveling in their fancy elvish boats when they’d spotted you from the river. You were extremely grateful for that - who knows what would’ve happened if the Uruk-hai tracking them had found you first.

Boromir and Gimli were quite intimidated by your presence, having been brought up in traditions that designated men for warrior roles. Aragorn and Legolas were much more accepting (female elves were just as badass as any male elf or man, and both of them knew that). The hobbits had all taken an immediate liking to you, and you’d been devastated to lose them during the Uruk ambush. Of course, this only gave you a stronger drive to track them into Rohan with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

It was there that you met Éomer for the first time, after his riders surrounded your small group of assumed invaders.

He was handsome, there was no denying that, and you found his decision to protect Rohan even in exile extremely brave. He’d been startled by your presence (a group including a dwarf, an elf, AND a woman must’ve been an oddity for him), and thus had talked primarily with Aragorn, but you could not shake the way his eyes locked with yours as he offered you his condolences about Merry and Pippin.

You figured you’d never see the handsome blonde again, glumly complaining to Gimli about it several times throughout Rohan.

Thus, you’d been overjoyed when he arrived at the Battle of Helm’s Deep - half because he was saving your asses from almost certain death, and half because you’d get to see his face and hear his voice again.

You followed Aragorn after the battle, searching for Gandalf in the celebrating crowd. It did not take long, with his bright white robes being quite easy to pick out.

“Gandalf!” you screamed gleefully, weaving between the people around you to get to the smiling wizard.

“It is good to see you, (Y/n),” he said as you embraced him.

“Oh, it’s even better to see you,” you said.

“I have to agree with (Y/n),” Aragorn said from behind you. You pulled back, allowing Gandalf time to greet your friend, and quickly caught sight of a familiar face.

He had been laughing with some other men when his gaze fell on you, eyes locking with yours for the second time. You smiled a bit and offered an awkward wave, face flushing as he flashed you a smile.

“Ah, (Y/n), this is Lord Éomer, current heir to the throne of Rohan,” Gandalf said, noticing the two of you staring at each other.

“We’ve met before,” he said, walking towards you

“Indeed we have,” you replied as he stopped just in front of you. “It is a pleasure to meet you, oh-future-king,” you said, bowing a bit.

You could hear Aragorn slap his forehead from behind you and grinned.

“She’s not from around here, so do forgive her manners,” Aragorn said.

“Or lack thereof,” you added, straightening yourself once more and looking at Éomer’s amused face.

“I appreciate the informality,” Éomer grinned. You spun around and pointed at Aragorn.

“See? Someone appreciates me,” you accused.

You were extremely happy to meet Éomer. It’s not that you didn’t adore Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli, but they were also the only people you’d been around for quite a while. It was exciting to make a new friend, especially one so handsome and charismatic.

The two of you spent the entire ride to Isengard delving into each other’s lives, from childhoods to secret fears to favorite foods. Obviously, the two of you had led quite different lives, and he was fascinated by the world you had come from.

“These cars you speak of, are they like horses?” he asked.

“No, they’re much faster,” you replied. “They’re more like a carriage, since they have space for several people inside.”

“But it moves without a horse?”

“Yup!”

“Who steers in then?”

You were grinning ear to ear at the look of bewilderment on his face.

“One of the people inside,” you answered. “There’s a wheel to control which direction you go and pedals on the floor to control the speed.”

“That sounds terribly complicated,” Éomer said, brows furrowing.

“It’s not too bad,” you said, “I was even pretty good at it.”

Éomer shot you an alarmed look.

“You used to steer these...these things?” he asked incredulously. You laughed and nodded. “You have to be taught how to do it,” you explained. “It’s not like they throw you into it without any preparation.”

“It still sounds extremely dangerous,” he decided.

“I did break my arm in a crash once,” you said thoughtfully. He gasped.

“You can crash them?”

Éomer had quickly become one of your favorite people, which only made the continuous battles over the fate of Middle Earth even more stressful. You were terrified he would ride into a fight and never return, and even more terrified of what that meant.

You’d searched for him for hours after the Battle for Minas Tirith, heart growing more and more heavy as you continued. Every person you asked had no idea where he was, and by the time you returned to the White City, your hands were shaking with anxiety. Finding him outside of the makeshift infirmary that had been set up was the most relieving moment of your entire life.

You had gasped the moment you caught sight of his all too familiar golden hair, letting out a desperate sob as his eyes met yours, him rushing over to you and wrapping you in his arms. Your embrace was filled with all the emotions both of you were too terrified to say aloud.

“I thought you were dead,” you murmured into his chest, eyes wet and lips trembling.

“It will take far more than a few Oliphaunts to kill me,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You wanted nothing more than to tell him in that moment how much you loved him, but decided against it. You knew the fighting was not over, the last thing you needed was for him to be distracted by you during battle and find himself impaled with some pointy object. If you both lived to the end of this, you would tell him then.

But then you were too scared to do it.

Of course you had won - the ring had been destroyed, Aragorn had led the crusade against the forces of Mordor, and Gondor was preparing to crown its long lost king. Everyone was staying in Minas Tirith until the coronation, but then everyone was leaving. All your friends would be heading home, but you did not have one of those here in Middle Earth.

Aragorn had already offered you a place in Gondor’s leadership, and thus a permanent residence with him, and the hobbits were more than happy to escort you back to the Shire with them, but you knew both of these options would separate you from the one person you wanted to be with.

All you wanted was to follow Éomer back to Edoras, but you were unsure if that would be best for him. He was about to be crowned king of Rohan, and probably had many ladies of Rohan’s nobility lined up to rule with him. It was selfish for you to think you had any right to his heart, especially when his duties and responsibilities were so much more important than an outspoken, title-less woman.

So you distanced yourself from him. You avoided him whenever possible, taking the longest routes you could to dinners and meetings. You tried not to be affected by his desperate gaze, or the way he called for you as you rushed out of a room. It hurt you more than anything, but you knew it would be better for him in the long run. You succeeded with your plan until the night before Aragorn’s coronation.

You’d been walking home from dinner (a huge, pre-celebration feast that qualified as a celebration itself) through an old, twisty corridor. You opened the door to your room only to see Eomer sitting on your bed, a worried look on his face.

You jumped slightly, startled by his presence.

“What are you doing in here?” you said breathlessly. “This is totally an invasion of my privacy and absolutely uncalled for at such a late hour, you almost gave me a heart attack-”

“Forgive me,” he interrupted, standing up from the bed, eyes fixated on you. You both stood there in silence for some time, the closest you’d been to each other for the first time in days.

“I missed you,” he murmured finally. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You looked down at your feet and nodded. You did not want to see the look of betrayal that he was undoubtedly wearing.

“Why?” he whispered. You winced at the sound of hurt in his voice.

“You would not understand Éomer, but I promise it was in your best interest,” you replied.

“You are my best friend, (Y/n), how could ignoring me benefit me?” he asked incredulously. You looked up at him, trying to ignore the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Éomer-”

“Please,” he cut you off desperately, slowly walking towards you. “I have missed you more than you could possibly imagine.” “That is the issue,” you whispered, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him.

“How is that an issue?” he begged.

“Because you are about to be a king,” you shouted, eyes still closed. “And you will leave after tomorrow with everyone else, back to Edoras, where new responsibilities will be awaiting you and demanding your attention.”

“How does that have anything to do with you?” he asked, voice sounding a lot closer than before. You gulped, sensing him right in front of you.

“I would be a distraction,” you replied meekly. Éomer did not reply, but instead reached to grab your hands with his own, you gasping as he pulled you into his chest.

“(Y/n), you are not a distraction, how could you-”

“I do not want you to leave me here,” you interrupted, resting your forehead against him. “I am so scared I’ll never see you again, but your life is about to be so much more important than me.”

“I do not want to leave you here,” he said, wrapping his arms around your back. “I want you to come with me. You’re my best friend, how could I abandon you?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” you whispered, “even if I were physically with you, that would not stop me from...from…”

You stopped and bit your lip, terrified of the confession about to pour out of you. Éomer moved his hand below your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“Stop you from what?” he whispered intensely, eyes searching your face desperately. You exhaled breathily.

“I love you, Éomer,” you said softly, watching as his expression softened. “So, so much.”

He blinked once, twice, registering what you had just said, and smiled, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anyone, (Y/n),” he murmured.

“But, surely there are women back in Rohan who are far more suitable for-”

“(Y/n),” Éomer said seriously, pulling away to look you in the eyes once more. “I have the power to be with whomever I choose.”

“But why would you choose me?” you asked meekly. Éomer chuckled, brushing a stray bit of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear tenderly. You leaned into his hand slightly, relishing in the way he cupped your face.

“I was more nervous that you wouldn’t choose me,” he admitted. You look at him in confusion.

“How could I not choose you?” you asked.

“You’re much more interesting than I am,” he shrugged. “You come from a world that is so much more exciting than mine, and the last thing I want is for you to settle for me.”

“Éomer, you stab people with swords and ride horses all day. And live in a castle. That is insanely cool,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “Of course I choose you.”

“And I choose you,” he murmured, pulling you closer to him. “Please come home with me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding fervently. “Yes, please.”

Éomer grinned, tilting your face up to his once more and leaning down to kiss you. Your heart leaped, hand reaching up to grab the back of his head to intensify the kiss. He moaned softly, bending down to pick you up and twirling you around. You giggled and pressed your nose against his.

“I’m thinking we make my coronation far less formal than Aragorn’s,” Éomer said, “as much as I’ve been loving these dinners, I don’t think I could stand hosting them.”

“You know I’m fantastic at informalities,” you replied.

#eomer x reader #eomer #eomer of rohan #eomer fanfiction #eomer imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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"Yet even so it was Gondor that brought about its own decay, falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep, who was only banished not destroyed.

'Death was ever present, because the Numenoreans still, as they had in their old kingdom, and so lost it, hungered after endless life unchanging. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living, and counted old names in the rolls of their descent dearer than the names of sons.

Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; in secret chambers withered men compounded strong elixirs, or in high cold towers asked questions of the stars. And the last king of the line of Anarion had no heir."

Faramir's explanation for Gondor's ‘decline’ is... incoherent.. what the hell are you on about m’love?

The way this reads is so completely misleading when looking at the actual history and reasons for Gondor's receding borders and the loss of the watch on Mordor. Faramir puts the onus on Gondorian Kings wanting to live longer and not having kids... babe? Did you forget... the plague? Gondor WAS watching for activity in Mordor. For 1640 years! And then there was a plague so devastating that it turned the country’s most populous city into a near ghost town. It took 200 years for Gondor to recover, and even then it never truly reached the population levels it had maintained before. Osgiliath was never the same! And by then Mordor had taken the fortresses at the Morannon!

There is absolutely no mention of Kings or Stewards who were desperately seeking to extend their life in Gondor’s history. Where are these tombs more splendid than the houses of the living? All the Kings not buried in Osgiliath are buried in the Silent Street... There is no mention of achingly elaborate tombs anywhere!

There WERE however some Kings who did not marry or have children! ... Two, there were just two of them... out of thirty three. Narmacil I was Atanatar's son and reigned in the HEIGHT of Gondor's wealth. He essentially allowed his nephew Minalcar to run the country whilst he had a great time writing poetry and kissing men. And Minalcar did a really good job! He fought wars, he made alliances, he built the Argonath and when it actually came around to his time to be King, he had a nice and peaceful reign! And when his son Valacar wanted to marry a Northern Princess? Even though the worry in Gondor was that that would ‘weaken’ the King’s line and reduce their lifespan? He supported him! Gave his blessing!

The other King who never married or had any children was Earnur! You all remember Earnur? Oh sure, he desperately wanted to extend HIS life past its natural limits! Fighting in two wars and then riding off into an obvious trap just because he'd been challenged really gives me a whole 'old man in his dotage fears death' vibe. And that was the ‘last king of the line of Anarion who had no heir’. You know WHY he was the last king? Because the King before his father Earnil II (King Ondoher) and his two sons had died! In a massive fuckall war with the Balchoth that nearly saw Gondor destroyed! PRINCE Faramir was TOLD to stay behind! But he was so anxious for his family and so wished to not simply sit and wait for death that he HID amongst the ranks of the Eotheod and went to war anyway!! AND DIED!! Asking questions of the stars??? Making strange elixirs?? Mused uselessly on heraldry??? WHEN? FARAMIR?? Was Ondoher daydreaming about stars and heraldry as he was cut down by a chariot??? Was Artamir brewing potions mid-battle?? WHAT are you talking about!!!

Where are these men fearing death who brought Gondor into it's decline that Faramir is talking about? Is he lying? No, I actually believe Faramir when he says he would not even snare an orc in a falsehood. The things Faramir says are things he believes. But then how, when he is so well known for his loremastership, can he be so misleading and plain wrong about something so basic to Gondorian history? Well I have a suggestion but it means Faramir’s at least a little homophobic so bear with me and I promise this is relevant.

So, obviously, the ups and downs of Gondor society in terms of queer liberation would be complex and rely upon a diverse number of factors. However, I’d say that, if you looked at an overall trend, it goes up in times of peace and takes a hit during times of strife. The basic reasoning for this is that one of the fundamentals of Gondorian society is the concept of doom and fate. This can give both correct and erroneous impressions of cause and effect throughout history. Gondorians tend to believe everything happens for a reason. And due to the (sometimes quiet but always present) elf-and-faithful-numenorean-ruled thinkers, who push ideas of proper marriage, celebacy, romance-superiority and other cis-het-normative agendas, the ‘reason’ that bad things happen is often blamed on the queer liberation of the times. The populace is open to being given reasons for bad things happening and Academia in Gondor is very much elf-revering, so it is often respected scholars who are pushing that narrative.

HOWEVER, the queerness is rarely what is actually remembered or recorded in history, the wording of records are often bound up in the faithful numenorean rhetoric of ‘heretical kings’ and ‘they fell into the trap of king’s men ideology’ and so on and so forth. Scholars might understand what this means at the time, but it gets muddled further down the road and even academics in the future have trouble finding the intended emphasis. So! By the time we reach 3018 TA, the academic community as a whole has reached a general consensus that ‘the old sins of our past’ are to blame and that, whilst queerness was a part of it, it was more a symptom than a direct cause.

So! The thought process I’m proposing for Faramir should be easy to guess at now, but I’m going to go more specific for the sake of... me uwu.

GONDOR has not known peace for the last 500 years, not since Steward Denethor the first’s reign wherein the so called ‘watchful peace’ ended and Sauron returned to Mordor. NOW, before Denethor, his uncle Dior was the Steward and, as you’ve probably guessed, he had no children and nor did he marry. I would suggest that Dior lived through one of the most tolerant and open portions of Gondor’s history. I think he not only was open about his choice not to marry, but he also had a socially accepted partner and lived with him all his life with only a small, vocal minority voicing their objections.

But then Sauron returned! And it was brutal, bloody and horrific. And that vocal minority saw an opportunity to use Dior’s life as a method to push Gondor once again into it’s regular crisis of conscience, faith and purpose. ‘We betrayed our founder’s’ and ‘We should have been ruled by Dior’s son but because of his weakness against his ill-fate we are doomed, he abandoned his duty! A pitiful fate but pitiful for us as well!’ And so on and so forth, there are reems of academic works written about it.

Now, this doesn’t have an immediate crushing effect on queer rights that one might fear. Denethor I loved his uncle dearly and would not hear a bad word about him, as did Boromir I! And Cirion? Cirion was almost more alternative than Dior. He sold off portions of land when the Stewards had been told to keep them IN TRUST for the king’s return. He made enduring and reciprocal alliances with the Eotheod ‘middle men’, he was very much anti-traditionalist! However, it was after his reign that Gondor truly felt the backlash of all this, spurred on by Cirion’s very alternative views, actions and methods. Because whilst he may have been an effective and charismatic Steward, Cirion had not found so much time to be a good father. And Hallas had been fifteen when his father had left him behind and ridden to war. He had a frightening and lonely childhood and was very open to the idea that his father was wrong, had gone too far, that things should be ‘brought back to normal’. Stability being key and all. The vocal minority had his ear.

And since then, whilst opinion has still fluctuated, the constant unrest and simmering crisis of Gondor’s day to day has made progress against such concepts difficult and slow going. And it’s informed the opinion of history too, a lot more academic writing has compared Dior to Narmacil I (the first unwed and unmarried King) and has tried to find parallels between them and Earnur. Any explicit discussion of queerness has been relegated to Sindarin scripts (the language only really understood by academics and the upper classes), but the underlying tone is there HENCE!

“falling by degrees into dotage, and thinking that the Enemy was asleep“ = Dior ‘abandoned his duty’ and Narmacil I ‘was indolent’.

“the Numenoreans still [-] hungered after endless life unchanging.” = A melding of heretical beliefs that occurred over centuries into one monolith that applied longing for endless life automatically.

“Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry; [-] compounded strong elixirs, [-] asked questions of the stars.” = This is all both reaching back to heretical practices in Numenor, whilst also harkening back to the periods of time in which Dior and Narmacil lived, peaceful times where more introspective and experimental pursuits could be indulged.

SO! This is where Faramir’s erroneous and misleading opinions come from. And why he is at least a little homophobic. There, I told you all I’d get there.

#soap operas in mannish sindarin #gondor #tolkien #lotr #erran vs tolkien #do I fucking dare put this in faramir's tag... no #no one in there will want to hear this #lotr meta #tolkien meta

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the-butterfly-blues · 2 years

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Dancing Away With My Heart

Part Three Pairing: Fíli x Female Reader Summary: New to town, her home isn't all that she was promised, but when an older woman appears at her door inviting her over for dinner, she becomes less worried about her home and more so with the golden-haired ranch handler. Word Count: 1.8k Translation: Agnâtnana: sister-in-law Warning: Quick mention of assault Note: Personally, I adore the Shadow of Mordor/War games even though they're not canon, so I've kind of added Talion and his family, though it's only really mentioning them at the moment. Talion deserved to stay with his loving wife and son, not what happened. Okay, okay, enough from me. I hope you enjoy!

Groggily sitting up on her inflated mattress, she turns off the alarm that had woken her up. She wishes to lay back down and get a few more hours of sleep seeing as the sun itself has yet to wake, but stops herself from snuggling into her covers again by standing and stretching. The reason she's forcing herself to get up at such an ungodly hour is because she plans on driving three hours into the big city to finally purchase all the appliances and furniture that was originally supposed to come with the house. Having taken a shower the previous night, she simply gets dressed in a clean sweater and jeans before grabbing her purse, planning on grabbing coffee once she gets there. With keys in her hand, she steps outside just as Fíli and Kíli pull up in their truck. She watches as the younger of the two hops out, a grin already spread on his lips despite how early it is.

"What are you two doing here?"

She locks her door as she questions the two, truly confused as to why they're on her front lawn at five in the morning, especially when they had never been over before.

"Amad wanted us to go with you to the city if you don't mind." "If you don't want us tagging along, we get it. She just wanted to make sure that you know we're here to help." "You two don't have you come with me, you know?" "We do! But, we like your company. I know Fíli definitely does." "Kíli!" "It's true!"

The brunet laughs as his brother glares at him, finding it hilarious. It's obvious that the two are interested in one another and he can't help but tease them. Despite the light pink dusting [Name]'s cheeks, she smiles at the teasing and the interaction between the two as she begins towards their truck.

"I'm guessing we're taking yours?" "Yeah, if you don't mind." "Not at all."

Pulling herself into the truck, she sits in between the two as there's no backseat, though she doesn't mind. After making sure she's found her seatbelt, the three set off towards the 'big city', laughing, joking, and talking along the way. This also gives the two time to ask about her brother as she's only briefly mentioned him at dinner a few times, but it was never in a way that looked as if she wished not to talk about him.

"When are we gonna get to meet your brother?"

Kíli's head slightly tilts to accentuate his question causing [Name] to giggle and shake her head, though she still answers him nonetheless.

"Unless you two would ever like to join me in visiting, then I don't believe you'll ever get the chance. You might be able to meet my sister-in-law and nephew sometime though." "Aw, how come? You've met all of our family, why can't we meet yours? Is he not keen on traveling so far?" "No, he'd travel to visit if he could, but he can't. He's got a lifetime of community service under his belt."

She shakes her head with a fond smile at her words, knowing that with it also came a lifetime of happiness. Once she spots the questioning side-glance from Fíli and Kíli's furrowed brows, she continues.

"I was having a nice night with my lovely coworker and friend, Ioreth. A very, very nice slightly older woman. She had suggested we go out for a bite to eat at this restaurant-bar place after work, so I let Talion know and he was going to join us. Well, before he could, this man came over and started flirting with me, which was disturbing because I was.. around seventeen at the time, but he didn't seem to care. One thing led to another and he started assaulting us, though Ioreth took the brunt of it, and then Talion came in and nearly beat the man to death. Sadly, that man was a bit of an important figure, so he wasn't going to let my brother off easy and forced him into a life of community service, but it's not all that bad."

During the story, Kíli's jaw became clenched while Fíli's grip on the steering wheel had tightened greatly, to the point where his knuckles had turned white. Despite not having known her at the time, he feels horrible for not being there to help her in that situation, wishing he could have beat the man himself or, at the very least, comforted her.

"How is that not all bad?" "Ioreth and Talion got married shortly after and then had a son, Dírhael. I moved with them out on the edge of the town and worked beside him at the lumber mill for years. The experience may have been bad and yes, I was scared to go out on my own for a while, but it led to something great. I eventually overcame my fear with the help of Ioreth and Talion and we lived happily in our little house until I moved. Then, I came here and met you two knuckleheads."

She pinches Kíli's cheek upon the last word of her story, causing the brunet to laugh and bat her hand away, lightening the mood and proving that she wouldn't let this old experience ruin anything for her. Once Kíli effectively pulls her hand away from his cheek, she looks over to Fíli and takes notice of his hands.

"Your hands will cramp if you hold the wheel too tightly, Fee." "Fee?"

A grin makes its way to his lips as he glances at her from the corner of his eye. His skin nearly lights aflame as she gently places a hand on his bare forearm in a comforting manner, allowing his hands to relax. The feel of her hand causes his stomach to twist, forcing him to believe the few romance novels he's read. Butterflies are the only way to describe the feeling in his gut and as weird as it feels, he silently wishes for it to never stop, especially since it's a feeling she had caused.

"Mhm. Fee and Kee, the Durin Brothers." "I get a nickname too?!" "Of course you do!" "We've gotta come up with one for you now, otherwise, it isn't fair."

They sit in a comfortable silence as the brothers think of a nickname for her. After a few minutes, Kíli begins laughing at a thought of his, confusing the other two.

"I could always just call you agnâtnana." "Kíli!" "What's it mean?"

He only continues snickering as Fíli reaches around [Name] to whack him upside the head, though not even that stops his laughs this time. Fíli's ears burn in embarrassment and anger at his brother's comment, wishing he hadn't said anything. True, the two find each other attractive and interesting, but they hadn't even gone on their first date yet, so that kind of talk is uncalled for in his book.

"I'm confused..." "It's nothing you need to worry about, Kíli's just being stupid." "I am not!" "You definitely are!" "At least let me know if it was an insult?" "No, no, it wasn't, far from it, but still something that he shouldn't have said."

The truck becomes silent once more, but with a slightly thicker air until she turns on the radio, flicking through the stations until she finds one without much static. The rest of the drive isn't half bad as they get back to laughing and joking which helps the time fly by. Upon entering the city, their first stop is to rent a box truck for the next few days so they can haul everything back to her house that day instead of having to wait weeks for the stores to deliver. Fíli found that the shopping wasn't half as bad as he was expecting as she would ask for his opinion on paint colors or couch fabric. With her asking for his input, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to fantasies of them picking out a new sink for their shared home, though if they were to get into a relationship and if it were to go anywhere, he suspects that he'd simply just move in with her if they don't decide to move and purchase a house together. Loading the last appliance into the box truck, Kíli is in charge of safely driving it back to her place with Fíli and [Name] following behind him. The drive back is silent as [Name] had fallen asleep against the door in the first hour. With his eyes still on the road and one hand on the wheel, he grabs his jacket from behind his seat and gently drapes it over her. He can't help but glance at her every so often, a fond smile adorning his features at the sight of her peaceful form.

"We're home, [Name]."

He quietly says more to himself than her as she continues to snooze. After digging her keys out of her purse, he simply takes her house key, planning on placing it under the front porch's mat after locking her door, and makes sure she isn't leaning against the car door before going around.

"Hey! How was-" "Shhh!" "Why are you-" "She's sleeping. Go unlock the door for me."

Catching the key, Kíli does as he's told because as much as he teases the two, he already considers her family and cares for her well-being. It was easy to tell that she had been pushing herself these past few days, hence why their mother had sent them to help. With an arm under her knees and the other supporting her back, he carefully picks her up from the passenger seat without much difficulty. Hearing her hum and feeling her press herself into his chest while gently gripping the jacket around her causes a soft smile to spread across his lips. As much as he wishes to keep this feeling of her against him, he soon sets her down on the inflated mattress in the living room. He covers her with the blanket on the bed, though still chooses to leave her with his jacket, knowing that he won't miss it until the chillier days of late autumn. Brushing her hair away, he places a gentle kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Goodnight."

He whispers against her forehead before pulling away and leaving her to rest, Kíli locking the door behind him and placing the key under the mat. The two would return early the next morning to help her with everything, so they aren't too worried about leaving a note.

Tag List: @i-did-not-mean-to

#Farmer AU #Durin’s Farm #The Hobbit #Reader Insert #Fili x Female Reader #Modern AU #Farmer Fili #Modern AU Fili #Modern!Fili

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 3 years

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Destiny Calling: Chapter Seven

You all seemed lost, feeling this sense of overwhelming hopelessness. You were now leading the group, walking through the woods of Lothlorien. You after all, were the only one that actually knew the way. "Stay close young hobbits! They say there’s a great sorceress lives in these woods, an elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell..." Gimli said, unaware that you actually shared blood to said "Elf-witch". "... and are never seen again." Gimli finished. Aragorn looked over, noticing blood seep through your clothes. "Y/n, did you suffer another wound outside of the scratch on your head?" He asked. "If you're referring to my shoulder Aragorn, I am fine." You said softly.

You stopped, the trees speaking of another presence outside of your group. "Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" Gimli announced before meeting a guard face to face. Lorien guards aimed before a familiar face stopped them. "Princess Y/n." He noticed, all guards reattracting their weapons at the sight of you. "You found us." you said, seeming very calm. "The dwarf breathes so loud we could've shot him in the dark." Haldir said making you chuckle. "Haldir o Lórien. Henion aníron, boe ammen i dulu lîn. Boe ammen veriad lîn. (Haldir of Lorien, we come here for help. We need your protection.)" Aragorn said. "Aragorn, these woods are perilous! We should go back." Gimli huffed. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back. Come, she is waiting." Haldir said. You all followed Haldir. "you seem very confident about your choice in leading us to this woman." Gimli muttered. You said nothing, walking ahead of him.

You climbed the stairs before standing before Galadriel and Celeborn. You bowed, Galadriel lifting your face. "You have matured since we last spoke." She said, smiling softly. "It is nice to see you again." You admitted. She nodded before looking at the group. Aragorn gave his proper greeting, making it clear to everyone that he too, had met her before. "Nine that are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him." She said. She looked in his eyes and paused. "He has fallen into shadow." She realized. "The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all." She said. She looked over at Boromir who couldn't meet her gaze. "Yet hope remains while the company is true." She said. She looked at Sam and smiled. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace." She said. You nearly walked off but Aragorn halted you. "Might we receive medical assistance? Y/n was struck in battle." Aragorn asked. "I have herbs in my-" "Come." Galadriel said. You sighed and walked off with her.

You looked over at Galadriel. "How are you taking it? Gandalf's demise?" She asked. "I think I'm in denial. It is almost as if my body just isn't reacting." You muttered. She nodded as you entered a small hut. "How did it happen?" She asked, wringing water out of a small cloth. "There was a monster, one of flames. We had to pass through Moria-" "We both know how dangerous that was Y/n." She scolded. "We didn't have a choice. Saruman betrayed us, if we had made for the Gap of Rohan, we'd be killed or worse." You muttered. She nodded. "Gandalf fought off the monster so we could escape. He... He fell so we would succeed." you muttered. Galadriel nodded solemnly. She touched the wound on your shoulder, you wincing. "You made it here. That is what counts." she said softly. You nodded, looking down. "Your mother would be very proud of you, you know." She added. You looked over. She began crushing herbs. "She would be terrified but still very proud." she said. You smiled slightly. "are you proud?" you asked. She turned, that soft smile reminding you of home. "we all are darling." She said. "I.." you cleared your throat. "I want you to know... I am proud to be your grandchild..." you told her. She put the herbs on the wound, wrapping it before she kissed your head. "I am proud to call you my grandchild." she said.

As everyone else sat around, elves could be heard around them, singing. "A lament for Gandalf." Legolas noticed, him pouring water into a small reflection pool. "What do they say about him?" Merry asked. "I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near." Legolas answered. Aragorn noticed Boromir sitting alone on a tree root. He walked over. "Take some rest. These borders are well protected." Aragorn encouraged. "I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me even now there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." He admitted. He knew for a fact that if his father remained on the throne, there was less of a bright future to one day see. This fact had been haunting him since he picked up the hilt to Isildur's broken sword. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And now our…our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it Aragorn? White tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. It's banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" He asked. "I have seen the White City, long ago." Aragorn admitted. "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guards shall take up the call: The Lords of Gondor have returned!" He said, clearly missing home. Aragorn opened his mouth to speak but saw you walking over. He walked over, hugging you. You didn't care about the slight discomfort from your shoulder. You hadn't had a real moment to breathe since you left. You hugged him back, him pulling away slightly to kiss your forehead. "Your wounds? How are they?" He asked. "They are minor, she believes them to be healed in days." you said.

He sighed. "You need to be more-" "What's the rule?" you halted. He sighed. "No telling Y/n what to do." He said. "Let us try and rest. We still have a long journey." you said. The group looked over as you sat down. "Are you alright?" Pippin asked. "Fear not Pippin, I am well." You assured. "Where are you sleeping?" Frodo asked. Aragorn cleared his throat to answer the question and you nodded your head in his direction. "Thank you Y/n.. For protecting me back in Moria." Frodo said. "I am only doing what I promised. I don't deserve the praise." You stated. "How did you meet the witch- woman?" Sam corrected. You chuckled. "Galadriel is my grandmother." you answered. "You're related to the witch?" Gimli asked, shocked. "She is my mother's mother. Very kind woman despite what many believe." You answered.

Pippin seemed confused. "Y/n... If your grandmother is here then why weren't you sent here instead of Mirkwood?" Pippin asked. "Father was most likely afraid of the path here... It was the same path my mother took when she was attacked." You said. Merry looked at you as you sighed, looking over at Aragorn who was still awake.

"Sleep." you told him. "I cannot." He admitted. "...You're joking. You seriously cannot sleep without me being there?" You asked. "Not fully, no." He admitted, making Sam crack a smile. "With the way you two speak to each other, you'd think you'd be lovers." Gimli sighed. You all froze, looking at him. "What?" He asked. "Nothing." Pippin said, resisting a strong urge to laugh. "We should rest." Sam said, also trying not to break. You moved to Aragorn, lying down next to him. He wrapped his arms around you, his breaths getting deeper as time passed.

The morning soon came, you and Aragorn being the first ones awake. You leaned up and stretched, tapping Boromir as you slid on your boots. He woke up the hobbits who (eventually) woke up Gimli. You all set off once more, Galadriel parting you with Earendil, their most beloved star. You all went off in canoes, riding down the river. You all were silent, Legolas and you both listening to the nature around you before reaching a pass. "Frodo, the Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin." Aragorn said to Frodo, nodding to the large statues of the kings. You all finally reached the foot of Amon Hen, making camp while you rested.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north." Aragorn said. "Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands far as the eye can see!" Gimli huffed. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength master dwarf." Aragorn said, making you smiled. Gimli seemed almost offended by the mere idea of him needing to rest. You looked up, alarmed by something. "What's wrong?" Boromir asked. "Something's coming." you answered. You looked around. "Where's Frodo?" you asked.

Frodo walked through the woods, Boromir noticing the hobbit as he was collecting firewood. "None of us should wander alone, you least of all. So much depends on you. Frodo?" Boromir commented. Frodo looked over, slightly alarmed by his presence. "I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take." Boromir said. "I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart." Frodo said. "Warning? Against what? We're all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have. Don't you see that is madness?" Boromir questioned. "There is no other way!" Frodo said. "I ask only for the strength to defend my people! If you would but lend me the Ring..." Boromir tossed the wood aside, staring at the ring. "No." Frodo said, stepping back. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief." Boromir asked. "You are not yourself." Frodo answered. "What chance do you think you have? They will find you! They will take the Ring and you will beg for death before the end!" Boromir yelled. Frodo ran from Boromir, alarmed of the greed and darkness taking over the young man. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine!" Boromir yelled before tackling Frodo. "It should be mine! Give it to me!" Boromir yelled. They struggled against one another for the ring.

"Give it to me!" Boromir yelled. "No!" Frodo struggled. "Give me… Give me the Ring!" Boromir yelled. Frodo slipped on the ring, kicking Boromir before running away. "I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death and the death of us all! Curse you! Curse you! And all the halflings!" He said before falling. It was like a simple fall was all he needed to see reason. Regret instantly hit him. "Frodo?...Frodo?...what have I done?...please...Frodo!" He called.

Frodo ran off, reaching an area away from him. "Frodo?" You asked, standing there with Aragorn. "Huh?!" He gasped, meeting your eyes. "It has taken Boromir." Frodo said, clearly panicked. "Where is the Ring?" Aragorn asked. "Stay away!" Frodo yelled before backing away. "Frodo!" Aragorn halted. Frodo stopped. "We swore to protect you!" Aragorn said. "Can you protect me from yourself?!" Frodo asked, clearly frightened. He showed the ring in his palm. "Would you destroy it?" Frodo asked. You looked away, feeling this intense dread. Aragorn slowly approached Frodo though, ignoring the whispers of the ring, closing Frodo's palm and pushing it to his chest. "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor." He said. "You will not yield me from your journey Frodo." You said. He frowned. "Y/n, I cannot ask this of you." He said. "Frodo, my father was the one that went with Isildur. He did nothing to stop him... I know I can do something so please. Let me." you said. He nodded slowly before you slid off your necklace, giving it to Aragorn. Aragorn shook his head. "Y/n-" "keep this as a reminder that someone is fighting for you. Always." you said softly. He clutched the necklace, before pulling a chain out from his pack. He took off his ring, sliding it onto the chain. "I will not take the throne without you. If I lose you, the throne will remain as it is." He said. "This is your only proof of your identity Aragorn-" "I know. Because without you, I cannot make my claim." He said, putting the chain around your neck. He gave you one last kiss, your heart filling with sorrow before you pulled away. "Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand." Frodo said before his sword started to glow. "Go on you two!" He said. You hesitated, seeing the finality in this choice. Would you leave your lover or stay and leave Frodo?

You shook your head, taking Frodo's hand and running. Sam searched the woods frantically. "Mr. Frodo!" He called before hearing swords clashing. Legolas and Gimli ran forward, Legolas shooting three of the orcs quickly. Gimli slammed his axe into one of them. "Aragorn! Go!" Legolas yelled. You sprinted with Frodo, trying to reach the boats as the orcs were ready to kill. You ran hiding behind a set of trees, Merry and Pippin looking at you with urgency. They noticed the orcs ready to follow you. "Run you two! Go!" Merry whispered before cupping his hands. You two ran off as Merry yelled. "Hey! Hey you! Over here!" He shouted, diverting attention away from the two of you. "Hey!" Pippin chimed in. "Over here!" Merry called. Pippin waved his arms. "This way!" Pippin yelled, running away from Frodo.

As you ran you heard three loud blasts from a horn, your heart dropping. This was it... Boromir's final stand. "The Horn of Gondor... Boromir.." you whispered as you ran. Merry and Pippin locked eyes with Boromir as he fought. "RUN!" He told them, fighting for his life. "Boromir!" Aragorn called, rushing toward the sound. Fear coursed through Boromir as he fought before an arrow hit his shoulder. Merry and Pippin stopped, looking at him in shock. Boromir fell to his knees, breathing hard as the pain seemed to overwhelm him. No. Not like this.

The orcs came closer, Boromir letting out a battle cry as a final stand. He stood up, stabbing an orc as he did. Another arrow fired, this time to Boromir's stomach. He fell again, still his will to live too strong for this as he got back up. He killed another orc, another arrow hitting you, this one being the final blow. Boromir fell to his knees, staying down this time. Merry and Pippin both looked at him. They knew this was it. That he would not rise again to fight. This was their friend that kept them safe. If he was dying, they were going to defend him till his last breath. Merry and Pippin fought, screaming "SHIRE!" before stabbing an orc or two.

You reached the boats, heart pounding as you were unaware of the dangers ahead of you. Then you felt it. A loss. A hit. You put a hand over your mouth. "Y/n, what's wrong?" Frodo asked. "Boromir has fallen." You whispered, hearing the trees tell you of the brave sacrifice he made.

Aragorn kneeled to Boromir. "They took the little ones." Boromir said weakly. "Be still." Aragorn instructed. "Frodo, where is Frodo? And Y/n?" Boromir asked. "I let them go." Aragorn said. "Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him." Boromir admitted, his breathing getting weaker. "The Ring is beyond our reach now." Aragorn assured. "Forgive me, I did not see it. I have failed you all." Boromir whispered. "No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor." Aragorn assured. He reached for the arrows that were ailing his friend but Boromir stopped him. "Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness… and my city to ruin." Boromir whispered. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the white city fall, nor our people fail!" Aragorn said, his heart in pain. "Our people?" Boromir asked. Not once had Aragorn even referenced his homeland or people... Boromir smiled at his friend. "Our people." He breathed, barely holding onto life. Aragorn put Boromir's sword in his hand, Boromir bringing it to his chest. "I would have followed you my brother, my captain, my king!" Boromir said before his face grew still. Your vision was indeed true. Boromir was dead. "Be at peace, son of Gondor." Aragorn whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You heard rapid footsteps, turning to land which you hadn't left yet. "Frodo!" Sam called. Frodo seemed spaced out, recalling a conversation that he had with Gandalf before Sam sprinted out from the woods. "Frodo no! Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam frantically called. "No Sam." Frodo said, continuing to paddle. You opened your mouth but closed it as Sam sprinted into the river. "Go back Sam! I’m going to Mordor." Frodo yelled. "Of course you are, and I’m coming with you!" Sam replied. He trudged deeper into the water. "You can’t swim! Sam!" Frodo gasped. You watched Sam go under, forsaking your cloak as you dove into the waters and pulled up Sam.

You put him in the boat, you climbing in afterwards. "You are insane!" You breathed. "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise! 'Don’t you leave him Samwise Gamgee.' And I don’t mean to! I don’t mean to." Sam said. Frodo's expression softened. "Oh Sam!" Frodo wailed before hugging Sam. You smiled at the two friends before Frodo yanked you into the hug. You slowly hugged the two hobbits back, them clinging to you.

Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas gave Boromir a proper send off, laying him one of the boats with his sword and shield, his cloven horn by his side. The boat went off the side of the Falls of Rauros, falling to the mists below.

"Hurry! Frodo, Y/n and Sam have reached the eastern shore." Legolas called. Aragorn did not move. "You mean not to follow them?" Legolas asked. "Y/n and Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands." Aragorn said, clutching your necklace that he was now wearing. "Then it has all been in vain! The Fellowship has failed." Gimli said. "Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let’s hunt some orc!" Aragorn said. Legolas and Gimli smiled. "Yes! Haha!" Gimli exclaimed. Aragorn ran into the woods, Legolas and Gimli following.

You stood on the hills of Emyn Muil, looking at the Dead Marshes and Mordor." Mordor. I hope the others find a safer route." Frodo muttered. "Strider will look after them." Sam said. "I do not think they will accompany us from here." You said, clutching Aragorn's ring. "I don’t suppose we’ll ever see them again." Frodo said. Sadness filled your gaze. "We may yet, Mr. Frodo. We may." Sam reminded. You smiled at Sam. Frodo turned to the both of you "I’m glad you’re with me." Frodo said to the both of you. You smiled softly, roughing up his hair before walking. "We have a long journey ahead of us." you said. "Think we'll see something new?" Sam asked. "Let us hope not." You said earning smiles from both of the hobbits.

You had no idea of the dangers ahead. Or how many events were to play out in front of your eyes.

#aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader

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thanksatt · 2 years

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Unhinged AU me and @mara-xx217 have come up with:

SLASHER!AU

In which Mordor is a more or less peaceful town, until horrible brutish murders occur. At first it's dismissed as sad results of a clash between criminal bands or acts of revenge. They're not far from the truth with that last hypothesis.

The murders increase and they all happen by the same procedure: the killer first goes for the loved ones of his original targets, starts from the youngest to the oldest, then finishes his job by killing his original target, who had remained alone and grieving.

No one knows the true identity of the killer: catching sight of him is so difficult that some believe he's a demon, a vengeful ghost in search of the ones who desecrated his lair, the ruins of the "Black Gate", an old building on the outskirts that burnt down many years ago. His sightings consist no more of a shadow, lurking in the town's graveyard or near his victims' houses.

How did it all begin? The city had never known such terror and surely a bunch of pups just exploring the ruins of the burnt building can't possibly be enough of a motif for such destruction to be unleashed.

The police investigates but to no avail, until the murders abruptly stop. The town holds its breath for weeks, preparing and waiting for the killer to strike again, but nothing. Everyone lowers their guard, believing the nightmare is finally over.

Except they're wrong. The infamous Gravewalker (that's how they call him) is still around, walking the town's streets and stalking his final target, the doctor who had rescued and saved his life that night of many years ago when his home had burnt to ashes: the one who could do nothing for his wife and son and therefore responsible for the pit of misery and grief that his life had become. He will pay for it.

The Gravewalker gathers this information from stalking the uruk: Zog is a talented and acclaimed surgeon, with a long record of successful cases; he's admired for his skill and well-known in town, even though he spends most of his day at the hospital than at home. He's almost constantly surrounded by students and when they're not around, he spends this time alone at the clinic or in his study. By now, the killer has memorised the faces of his target's colleagues and students, he knows the right time and places when to catch them.

Perfect, the murderer think, Let's start this.

The slaughter begins once more and it is so vicious and precise that the police is simply inadequate: too many victims a day, all difficult to recognise, too many crime scenes to seize, too many sightings... Everyone is overwhelmed and scared.

The hospital's staff is severely decimated and that's when the Gravewalker decides to take on them all at once, without Zog. To ensure this, he lures him on a hunt far from the hospital and makes sure he stays there searching for him enough time for the killer to make it back and make a bloodbath out the place.

When Zog returns, it's too late. Everyone is dead. The halls and the corridors are littered with corpses brutishly mutilated, the walls and the ground are soaked with blood and gore. Zog finds him there standing among a pile of corpses: the Gravewalker.

Talion. He can't believe his eyes. The man he saved all those years ago, who escaped and had Zog searching for him for months- He's alive. He has returned, but what a way to return...

Suddenly a pang of guilt hits him. Why is he feeling guilty? He shouldn't, he has done nothing wrong. Or maybe he did, after all this man is alive thanks to him.

How does it feel to have the weight of my revenge on your conscience? Admitted you have one.

Realisation downs upon Zog: Talion is taking his revenge for his dead family and the years of lone grief he had to endure. In his own twisted way, he's making Zog pay for what he did, by destroying his life in the same way Talion's own life was destroyed.

Except Talion doesn't have the weight of dozens of dead innocents of his shoulders, he's not crushed by guilt. Zog knows this isn't his fault... Not entirely, at least. But his part in this had been too important to be ignored- he has been Talion's motivation. And in the meanwhile he had done nothing to stop or prevent the slaughter. These people are as much Talion's victims as they are his own.

Guilt can transform a person as much as grief. It twists your perception, shaping reality into a nightmare, yourself into a monster. It makes you commit atrocities in the name of self-righteousness, atonement or whatever name you give to the urge to kill that animates your body and monopolizes your thoughts.

This is what happens first to Talion, then to Zog.

Talion's revenge was meant to culminate with Zog's death, but something has made Talion hesitate. He doesn't move, as he watches his nemesis break under the weight of guilt and wry in pain on the bloody floor. It is better of a punishment to let him live the rest of his days in misery and self-pity, Talion decides.

Zog had really wished to die. To finally put an end to this torment, but the killing blow doesn't arrive and he soon understands that it never will. Rage and hatred flare in his chest, not only against Talion, but against everyone. Everyone who? Anyone who hasn't done anything to stop this, anyone who has been too incompetent, too dimwitted, anyone who isn't coming for him- Because he deserves someone to come for him, doesn't he? Why is nobody coming?

That night, two people disappear: the killer and the surgeon. No one can find them anywhere and for a year or so the murders stop. After that, it all begins anew, but the modality is different: this time the killer targets smallest groups of people and the crime scene- the crime scene opens a pitch of dread in everyone's hearts: the corpses are arranged as if they were going on with their lives, they're found sitting together at the dinner table, on the car's driving sit or playing at the playground... Except their faces are all frozen in terror. Only very few cadavers are found missing their cranium and the scalp and brain and eyes left scattered around the corpse.

Everyone assumes it's the Gravewalker and Talion doesn't mind much, although he wouldn't lose time setting the scene and stealing craniums. He doesn't find any delight in this; what, no who he does find delight in, is the one really responsible for this: Zog.

He didn't turn out exactly as he had imagined, but he has surprisingly come to love the new version of his nemesis. Absolutely out of mind, but dramatic and sophisticated as ever, if not more. And he loves even more to remind Zog of this and witness the collected facade crack and see the burning shame and spite in his rival's eyes.

#slasher!AU #shadow of war #talion #zog the eternal #you know what they say 'the couple that slays together stays together' but make it more of a torment

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

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The Way Back {Faramir x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3057 Summary: Love can be found in the unlikeliest of places, such as in a war-torn city after a win.

You took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. It felt like you hadn’t had the time to breathe in days. It had been battle, after battle, after battle against Sauron and his forces, ending up in this, the grand battle outside of Gondor. But the enemy had finally been defeated, the last of the orcs crying back to Mordor. You removed your helmet and let your hair fly free in the breeze as the world seemed to catch it’s own breath back. There was still plenty to do, such as tend to the wounded, burn the bodies of the deceased, and begin plans to rebuild the city. There were many fallen on both sides, even though the battle had been won by yourself, and by Gondor. By Minas Tirith. You looked about you, savoring the moment of peace, before plunging yourself into even more work.

You regretted that you did not attend the last battle at Mordor, but you had a much more pressing issue of helping with Gondor. There was so much here that had to be done, and you put your faith in your three companions. Legolas, your younger brother, who looked so much like you with delicate elfin features, but was a killer with a bow. Gimli, the dwarf that you came to see as a friend and an annoyance in your life, almost like a grumpy old pet, but one who could swing an axe like it was no ones business. And Aragorn, your best friend, a fellow Ranger, who had returned from Mordor and would soon be crowned King. But for now, he left you to care for Eowyn, a woman that he had introduced you to, who had been hurt in the battle. As two female warriors, the two of you struck up a quick kinship. It had been you who had given her a horse to ride among the riders, before you went with your fellowship to hold the dead to their oaths. Your horse, one of the fastest in the world, and the envy of many of the riders, including her brother.

You sat with her in the healing wing, dabbing her forehead gently with a damp cloth.

“I’m barely moving enough to sweat, y/n, there’s no need for this,” She said, trying to wave you away with her injured hand. You shushed her, and put it back down to her side. She looked more fragile than you were used to seeing her. Before, you had seen it in her eyes that she was always ready for a fight, the inner beast in her wanting to come out and growl at the world. A true dragon in pretty colors.

“Would you rather me go and get one of the healers to do it for you? I feel they would not be as good company as I though...” You threatened, and she sighed and allowed you to go on with your blotting. You were not a healer, though you knew a couple of things. Like to constantly check your friend for fever, for the wounds that she had sustained were nasty. She may have stabbed the witch King in the face, but she paid the price for that.

“I don’t like feeling helpless like this. I want to help the healers - it is only a couple of wounds. But no, all they let me do is go for one walk a day among the garden, like I’m some sort of...”

“Woman?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let us go on our walk then. Let them dare to stop us while we are together. They can try to bully one warrior, but two? I do not think them so foolish.” You took hold of Eowyn’s better hand, and helped her onto her feet. She was eager to be up, and there was a flounce to her step, almost girlish. Sometimes she lamented being a woman, but there was still some femininity to her.

Together you walked out of the healing wing, and out into the open air of Gondor. A lot had been ruined during the war, and was being rebuilt. There were footsoldiers still around, and were helping to guide the reconstruction process. Everyone was helping out - even children, who were spreading the mortar over the walls with their little hands. “Are you going to return to Rohan as soon as you are healed?” You asked Eowyn as you strolled arm in arm, avoiding the places where the most damage had been done.

“After Aragorn’s coronation,” She answered. “I see no sense in returning, just to turn around and come back in a couple of weeks. And with my brother constantly off with the Riders of Rohan, they are going to need a new leader.”

“I see,” You said, nodding. “I’m so sorry to hear about your Uncle, Eowyn. He was a great man, as as I’m sure you knew. And he taught you well, you’ll take his place fantastically.”

“What about you? I remember your father wanted you to return to Mirkwood-”

You shook your head vehemently. “I too will be staying until the coronation. Legolas may be returning but I’m not so quick to leave the scene of one of the greatest battles that Middle Earth has ever known. I’m reluctant to go back...”

“Why?”

“I’m his heir, and he is getting older. I know that he wants me to take up the throne, but I am not Queen material, Eowyn. I belong on the battlefield. That’s where I feel the most comfortable! Not among the rich dresses and the gossip of elfen society,” You opened up to Eowyn, knowing that her, above anyone else, would understand how you feel. “Legolas is better suited as King than I ever would be as Queen. Were it I were born second rather than first...”

“Either way, it would be nice to have someone who is more sympathetic to humans on the throne,” Eowyn said, coming to a halt. You looked at her confused. “There he is - that is Faramir, the new Steward of Gondor.”

You followed her eyeline to see a man, leaning over one of the walls, looking out at the wreckage of the grounds that had been the battlefield. His hair was to his shoulders, a messy light brown - it was a look that many of the human men wore. Aragorn. Boromir -

Of course! This had been the brother that Boromir had mentioned to you during the nights when you two had watch together. But with some more burns upon him than Boromir had ever seen. You had heard of what had happened to him. His own father had tried to kill him.

“Shall we introduce ourselves?” You asked. Eowyn, who was far from timid even while she was wearing a gown rather than armor, nodded her approval.

You approached him together, which did not seem to intimidate him, for he gave you a surprising smile when you reached him. “I hope we aren’t interrupting your thoughts,” You said, pleasantly.

“Not at all,” He inisisted. “I always have time for two of our heroes.”

You beamed down at Eowyn, seeing the little flush on her cheeks. It was amazing seeing her talent be recognized. You were about to praise her even more, just to see if she could go as red as a rose, when one of the healers came running up, interrupting the mood. “You should be resting Lady Eowyn!” She chided.

“But...” Eowyn started, but then gave in rather easily. “Excuse me. I hurt my hand while killing the Witch King. I hope you understand my quick departure.”

You couldn’t stop grinning at her little amount of bragging. She deserved that much. Faramir bowed his head respectfully as the healer took Eowyn away, who was still complaining that she was fine. “Did you receive an injury while doing something important like killing a Witch King?” He asked.

“I stubbed my toe while taking down an Oliphaunt,” You shrugged, making him grin. You realized while he was doing so that he was actually pretty handsome .. for a human. He had a softer face than both Aragorn and Boromir, the only two humans that you could claim had been your friends. Or still were, in Aragorn’s case. He wasn’t as bristly. And he had very kind eyes. The race of men really was starting to grown on you.

Your father had come to Aragorn’s coronation. You had not expected him to. He very rarely left Mirkwood. Not since the Battle of the Five Armies had he ventured anywhere near this far. But the King returning to his throne was a grand deal, so you supposed it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. You stood beside your brother in welcoming your dear friend to the throne, and had managed to position yourself in a way that let you look at the Steward. He stood with Eowyn, who had become as wonderful a friend to him as she had to you. A sister to the both of you, though she needed no more siblings - not with a gruff one like Eomer about.

“When are you going to tell father?” Legolas whispered after Aragorn had passed.

“Tell him what?” You hissed.

“About how you are in love with a human,” He said, smiling widely. You nudged him and he nearly fell into Gimli, but his elf-like reflexes stopped him from doing so. “He can’t take his eyes off of you. Is that why you dressed up today? It is so weird to see you in a gown.”

“Can you please be quiet and enjoy our friend’s special day?” You asked in Elvish. Legolas did quiet down but you kept sneaking peeks over at Faramir. The two of you had gotten rather close in the last couple of months. And you might even think that you had given your heart over to the man, though it was very painful to think about. You would continue to remain youthful for many, many years, barely gaining a wrinkle while this man would grow old, wither, die. Life was cruel that way. Unbelievably cruel.

You saw eyes looking at you behind Faramir, and caught your father’s stern gaze. Your eyes widened, and like a child caught doing something bad, you immediately looked anywhere but your father, pretending to be distracted by the leaves, or the sweet little hobbits.

After the ceremony was a lovely party, which Aragorn did not attend because he went straight into his duties. You could say a lot of things about Aragorn, but not that he wasn’t dedicated to his work. You walked through the party, surprising a great number of people by wearing an intricate Elven gown for the occasion. Most of these people had only seen you in your fighting garb, which looked a great deal like Legolas’s. In fact, on more than one occasion, you had been mistaken for one another. Definitely not on this day, though.

You wandered, before Faramir’s hand lightly brushed against your arm, pulling you into conversation. “You look...” He said, gazing at you up and down, trying to find the words. You decided rather than waste time, you would finish his sentence for him.

“-like a beautiful Elven lady?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Faramir said with a grin. He looked bashful, an expression that became him. He could be the most cold, hardened warrior, but around you, he seemed to be a bit more of a bashful mess. It was a very endearing trait. And it was something that brought the warmth right out of you.

“Yes, my daughter is a very beautiful Elven lady,” Your father’s familiar voice said from you behind you. Your eyes said ‘Uh-oh’ faster than your mouth could, and you turned to see him standing there. The blonde hair that the whole family had was gleaming brightly in the sun light. “I’m stealing her for a moment from you, Steward.”

“Of course,” Faramir said with a nod. He walked away with his hands behind his back, having recovered very well from his injuries. You watched as he walked towards Eowyn, and they struck up a friendly conversation. Your two favorite humans - and yet it gave you a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you did not like. You were wary of them being close. You were fond of both of them and you would not be surprised if they became overly fond of one another.

“Is that him?” Your father asked, following your line of sight. You stopped staring, and turned back towards him to give him the respect that he both deserved and demanded.

“Is that whom?” You questioned, your eyebrow arching upwards.

“The human that has stolen your heart?” Your father’s steely gaze cut through you like a knife. So he knew. You looked behind him for Legolas, and once you had caught his eye, you gave him a glare. “Do not blame your brother like you are some sort of child. He didn’t tell me a thing. It is entirely obvious.”

“Do you think that he knows?” You asked, swallowing any denial that you might have had bubbling.

“Since he is an inferior human, I would suppose not.” Your father said, chin held high. “I was going to ask you to come back with me. Take your place as the ruler of Mirkwood. There is a lot of work to be done.”

The happiness that you had felt for Aragorn, and then the slight giddiness that you had around Faramir had dissipated entirely. You were back to the way that the elves usually were. Hard-browed. No emotion showing.

“I’m sure that there is,” You said, not excited at all about the prospect of returning to your home. “And you are sure that you want me to be doing it?”

“As the oldest, it is your duty. Female or not,” Your father said. But he wasn’t catching your eye - he continued to glance over at Faramir. “You have caught his attention most ardently. He will not stop looking in your direction. It almost reminds me of your mother.”

Your heart started to beat in your chest, but your expression did not change. Still, there was a little bit of hope shining through. You tried to catch your father’s eye, but he kept looking away, which was unusual. Usually, he enjoyed looking right into the eyes of the person that he was talking to. It was a power play. And now you were the one who was trying to be the one in power.

“Is there any way that we can postpone it, father?” You asked, trying to make yourself taller so that he could not avoid looking at you. “Just for a few decades? Hardly any time at all - and all of that work will still be waiting for me.”

“A couple of decades? So you can come back after your human lover dies, and take out your grief in your work like I had?” Thranduil asked, tutting. You have never heard him tut before. But you also knew that he had a point. You remembered how he had thrown himself into his duties as King when your mother had died. He hadn’t given himself the proper time to grieve, and his leadership was lack for that. “We’d better give it a century or two. I might be able to finish my own tasks in time for that.”

“Surely - you’re joking? This is the first joke that you make and you decide for it to be this?” You questioned, unable to take your father seriously at this moment. His expression had not changed at all. In fact, now, it looked a little bit angry.

“I do not joke.” He said, glaring at you. “I am trying to give you the opportunity to love.”

You tried to search for any sign of deceit in his eyes, but could find none. He even looked a little ... flustered? Uncomfortable at the idea of talking about love with his daughter? Either way, you weren’t going to pass this opportunity up. You clasped your hands in front of yourself and gave him a bow which he then returned, before sweeping himself away to talk to Legolas, which was always much less about emotions.

You walked back over to Faramir and Eowyn, and put your hand on Faramir’s arm like he had to you just moments before. “May I speak with you for a moment?” You asked him, looking over at Eowyn. The blonde woman gave you a knowing smile, and walked off to speak with Merry, whom she had grown fond of over the war. The Steward of Gondor looked at you, still with that soft grin that you enjoyed looking at so much.

“What is it?” He asked, the grin faltering slightly. You’ve never asked him to talk privately before, and he wondered if something was wrong. But you took that away from him with your own lips, which you softly pressed against his once you were sure you had a little bit of privacy. “My lady?” He questioned, after returning it.

“It is unconventional, but it appears that I’ve fallen for you, Faramir, Steward of Gondor.”

“You have?” He asked, bewildered, but then seemed to regain his senses rather quickly. “I thought you never would. I’ve already resigned myself to growing old by myself.”

“You don’t have to,” You said, taking hold of his rough and calloused hands, giving them a squeeze. “If you will have me, I’d like to be by your side as you grow into a handsome old man.”

“While you stay the same?” He asked, his voice going softer.

“Yes,” You said with a nod. There was no point in beating around the bush - he would grow old and you would stay exactly as you were. It would be quite some time before you started to look older than you already were.

“My beautiful wife,” Faramir said, leaning in for another kiss. You granted it happily.

#Faramir #Faramir x reader #Faramir oneshot #Lord of the Rings #Lord of the Rings oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #lotr #lotr oneshot #request

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somebirdortheother · 1 year

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Adventures of Arda’s Greatest Inventor - Snippet

My no-longer-so-little Welcome to Mordor City Steampunk AU is finally getting the chaotic Halbrand Smith it deserves, with a title that only the splendid @coraleethroughthelookingglass could have suggested to save me from myself because otherwise, I would have named the fic "Five Times Halbrand Smith Saw Galadriel Noldor, and One Time He Met Her", which didn't have the same ring to it.

Anyhow, here is a snippet, and the fic is coming in hot and hopefully with enough paisley to satisfy @ichabodjane on Saturday, Feb 20th.

“Then continue not liking her,” his friend glowered in his direction. He really couldn’t understand what had given Bronwyn the idea that he was lying; he’d scarcely attempted to find out anything about Galadriel, save for where she worked - a seismology laboratory, and that she’d occasionally been to Arondir’s establishment - naturally, Halbrand had been curious about what nights she’d been there so that he could avoid her better.

Bronwyn may have been the only woman - no, the only person - in the entire city that Halbrand would think twice about crossing, although he liked to consider them to be the best of friends. After all, she had patched him up after he’d been wounded shortly after he’d made himself known in Mordor City - a ghastly thing right over his left rib that could have ended poorly. The fact that she’s been the one to inflict that wound on him in the first place was barely worth mentioning - water under the bridge, as they say. She’d charged him for the surgery, too. Since then, whenever a new friendly acquaintance saw Halbrand in a state of undress and asked him about the scar in a breathy, satisfied voice, he’d always smile and respond with, ‘Ah, this old thing… a mere dispute over a woman.” They’d really become friends one fateful evening a few weeks after his stabbing incident. He remembered the event well - it’d been 7:03 pm on a Thursday, and Halbrand had already stripped down to his waistcoat for the night when he heard a booming knock on the door.

“Mrs Woods, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

#haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #bronwyn #arondir #rings of power #trop fanfic #ao3 writer #everyone likes a good tease no?#What Happens in Mordor City Stays in Mordor City #You’ve had ‘Fake Relationship’ Trope yes but how about ‘Fake Adultery’ now?

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enterwitty-remark · 3 years

Text

More Detailed plot of the Soulbound au:

(this au is based on the games shadow of mordor and shadow of war for reference, it is not vital to know the games, just that it is set in a lord of the rings world)

it got kinda long so i’m putting it under a read more :)

Prologue

- Technoblade meets phil and becomes friends

- Phil marries Kristen

- Technoblade learns how to make Magic Rings

- Technoblade is killed, and becomes a wraith bound to mordor

- Foolish travels to Mordor to fight ringwraiths

- Dream, George, and Sapnap get sent to the black gate

- Antfrost marries Velvet and abandons the Gate

- Seige of the Black gate, death of everyone on it (excluding Antfrost)

- Technoblade binds his soul to Dream

Act One

- Dream and Technoblade meet Skeppy

- Bad finds out Dream is alive (via skeppy) and starts looking for him

- Dream and Technoblade find Velvet and Antfrost, visit for a bit

- Dream and Technoblade meet Ranboo

- Bad finds Dream

- Dream meets Niki and Jack

- Niki and Technoblade somewhat meet

- Niki shows Dream to Puffy, who offers to help him

- Dream thinks Ranboo dies

- Dream finds out Technoblade was lying to him

- Niki and Jack meet Wilbur and company

Act Two

- Dream convinces Technoblade to forge another ring

- Technoblade and Dream get seperated, Dream survives via new magic ring

- Dream gives the ring up for Technoblade

- Jack starts his ‘rivalry’ with Tommy

- Dream meets Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo

- Dream trains Tommy a little

- Wilbur makes a Deal

- Wilbur dies, the city falls

- Tommy and Tubbo escape the city

- Foolish kills Dream

Act Three

- Dream and Technoblade get their ring back

- Foolish tells Phil and Kristen what is happening

- Dream finds Ranboo is alive, send him to Tommy and Tubbo

- Dream, Foolish, and Technoblade go on adventures

- Dream gets betrayed, Technoblade makes an Example of the betrayer

- Dream defeats a nazgul, gets in an argument with Technoblade

- Technoblade leaves Dream to die and goes with Foolish

Act Four

- Dream gets Cursed Ringwraith Ring and survives

- Dream takes back the city, finds Niki and Jack

- Technoblade gets very trapped

- Foolish finds Dream and apologizes

- Bad and Skeppy visit Dream

- Ponk tries to help slow the ring’s effects

- Dream eventually Falls and becomes a ringwraith

- Foolish evacuates everyone who remained

Epilogue

- (catches up to Lord of the Rings) One Ring destroyed, Dream and Technoblade are free

- Technoblade finds Dream and rebinds himself, apologizes

- They slowly start healing

- Technoblade and Dream visit Phil and Kristen

- reunite with people

- Dream and Technoblade stay in middle earth and heal as much as they can

- Dream and Technoblade travel West

#dream #technoblade #dsmp #oh boy #this got long #soulbound au #behold the entire plot #roughly #dreblr #congrats rain you made me give it a happy ending #alternate ending is less happy gonna be honest

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 5 years

Note

#if you ask I will write a whole goddamn essay on Boromir #and why his death means more to us as we get older *whispers* babe I want the essay

Why must you always enable me I love it never stop. So. Wow. Where to even start. I rant through my tears about how much I love Boromir every time I watch Lord of the Rings, which I do about once a year with @captainofthefallen. Every time I watch it, his death means more to me, hits me harder, and I think that’s because the older we get, the more we identify with Boromir.

Here’s the thing. In all honesty, as a kid (I first read LotR when I was eleven, first watched the films at that age as well), I wasn’t too fond of Boromir. Oh I liked him all right, he was fine I suppose, but I didn’t connect with him. I was angry when he tried to take the One Ring from Frodo, and I cried a little at his death because death is sad and I was a kid, but it didn’t devastate me.

Because as a kid? I wanted to be Aragorn. The reluctant king who rises up and does the right thing, always. The guy who gets the amazing (be still my bi heart) Arwen, the Evenstar, fairest of the elves. The guy who literally kicks ass. The man who is noble, honorable, thoughtful, good with his words, humble, knows the burdens of leadership, who stands up and says there will be a day when the courage of men fails, but this is not that day.

I wanted to be the hero.

I noticed this trend among my peers growing up. We all loved Aragorn and wanted to be him. Boromir was sort of dismissed.

But then a funny thing happened, called getting older.

I got older, and I fucked up.

I got older, and depression hit.

I got older, and the weight of societal expectations, of being an older sibling, of adult responsibilities, of legacy, of family secrets, of family history, all settled on my shoulders.

I got older, and I learned that men are not always honorable, or kind, or humble, or the leaders they should be. And I learned how hard and desperate it is to continue to believe in the strength of men.

I got older, and I learned how temptation comes for us all, in different forms, and how we hurt people without meaning to, and how sometimes for all our regret and tears and apologies, we cannot mend what we broke.

I got older, and I leaned what it is to be forced into a role I didn’t want, to feel I’d hit a dead end, to struggle against those who had different views, to feel like people could look into my heart and see the anger and fear that I tried so hard to hide.

I got older, and I realized: I’m Boromir.

We’re all Boromir.

Tolkien was very deliberate with his characters. They aren’t just characters, flawed and wonderful though they might be. They also each represent something very specific. Aragorn represents the Ideal. The hero that we all can be, the hero that we should strive to be, the vision of mankind as we are supposed to be, if only we can let ourselves shed our hubris and our doubts. Aragorn represents who we should be.

Boromir represents who we are.

Flawed, frustrated, burdened, tempted, struggling, setback, good intentioned, afraid, angry, kindhearted, noble, loyal, and painfully, beautifully human.

Boromir went to the Council of Elrond reluctantly. He shouldn’t have gone. Boromir is a war leader, as we learn after his death. He successfully fought for and defended Gondor from Mordor for years. That’s where he belongs. Faramir is the quiet one, the diplomat, the “wizard’s pupil,” the soft-spoken and patient one. Note that even in the film version, which shows a differently characterized Faramir than in the books (Tolkien heavily based Faramir on himself), Faramir only wants the One Ring in order to give it to his father and win his father’s pride and affection–he doesn’t want it for himself.

If Faramir had been at the Council and Boromir had stayed in Gondor, everything would have gone differently, and possibly for the better.

But the Steward of Fuckwits aka Boromir and Faramir’s father decides he wants Boromir to go, to represent their family, because Boromir is the son he values and is the “face” of Gondor. So Boromir sets aside what he wants, and he goes. And the whole time he feels out of place, feels like a fish out of water, feels second to Aragorn, feels lost, feels terrified his city will fall while he is gone, feels like the race of Men is being mocked and looked down on as weak.

How many of us as we grow up are stuck like that? We can’t fix our family (although we try), we can’t fix our broken country (although we try), we can’t get rid of the doubts and fears that whisper to us (although we try), and we can’t stop feeling like we’re constantly second best, constantly failing, looked down on, especially the millennial generation.

(Given what’s happening in the world right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tolkien found himself surprisingly similar in outlook and feeling to our generation. But that’s another topic.)

And of course that’s the key. Boromir–darling, frustrated, stuck, fatally flawed Boromir–is so very relatable because he tries. He tries to teach Merry and Pippin to protect themselves and then tries to save them and dies for it. He tries to convince Aragorn (who at that point is more elf than man in his outlook) that there is no reason to give up on his people, their people–and he succeeds in that, although he dies before he gets to see it. He tries to make his father proud. He tries to apologize when he fucks up. He tries and he fails, and he tries and he succeeds. And the most important things he does, the biggest seeds he plants, he never sees them flower.

Like my God, the man’s last words are I failed. I failed you, I failed Frodo, I tried to take the Ring. I’m sorry, I failed. That hits me so goddamn hard in my mid20s and it’ll hit me even harder when I’m older, I’m sure. How many times have we said that to people? “I tried to help him.” “I tried to reach out.” “I tried to apologize.” “I tried to stop them.” “I tried so hard.” I tried, I tried, I tried. For the job, for the friend, for everything, I tried.

And I failed.

I have a laundry list of things I tried and failed at, and God, do they hurt. Sometimes it was something out of my control, sometimes it was my own behavior. And that scene with Boromir, the flawed man, staring up at Aragorn, the ideal hero, and begging him, begging him, “save them, they took the little ones, find Frodo,” begging him for forgiveness, apologizing for his failures?

Talk about a fucking metaphor.

We make our ideals in literature so that we have something to look up to and strive for, for others to strive for. Boromir falls prey to the ring, but Aragorn does not. You did what I could not. Of course Aragorn did. He’s the ideal. And we beg our ideals to be better so they can show us the way and hopefully, maybe, someday, we can be like them.

I had so many heroes growing up, real and literary. Sara from A Little Princess. Aragorn. Lucy from Narnia. Nancy Drew. Harry Potter. And so many times I would look at myself in the mirror and cry because I knew, I knew if I stood in front of them they would be disappointed in me. I knew I wasn’t being the person I could be. I tried, I failed, I tried, I failed, but my God I swear, I tried.

As a kid or even a teenager, we still see mainly who we want to be. Our ideal. And I hope that we never lose sight of that. I love Aragorn and my God am I going to keep trying to be like him, and like all of my other literary heroes. We need those heroes, we need them so badly, and the darker the world gets the brighter we have to make them shine.

As an adult, though–as an adult, we start to see not only who we want to be, but who we are, and who we could’ve been, and how we failed to be, and the paths not taken and the paths that were lost. And that’s important too. Because Boromir died convinced he was a failure. Convinced he was, truly, the weakness we find in men.

And he was… but he wasn’t.

Without Boromir, Aragorn wouldn’t know what happened to Merry and Pippin or where they went. Without Boromir, Aragorn would’ve had no hope in the race of men. Without Boromir, who would have carried the hobbits up the cold mountain, or taught them how to fight, or said give them a moment, for pity’s sake! Who would have defended Gondor for so long, or loved his brother with a ferocity that Denethor’s abuse couldn’t knock loose, and inspired that brother to keep fighting even as the light faded and the night grew cold and long?

Aragorn carries Boromir’s bracers throughout the rest of the trilogy, right up to his coronation, where he is still wearing them as he is made King. Because Boromir might not have seen it–we might not see it–but we tried and we failed but we didn’t fail at everything. Lives are made brighter for our presence. The world is better for our gifts and our convictions. And no fight, even a fight lost, is done in vain.

The remains of the Fellowship ride to Gondor not just because it’s the Right Thing to Do, but because it is the city of their fallen brother, it’s Boromir’s home, the home that above all he gave everything to defend. Boromir doesn’t want the Ring for power, he wants it so his home will be safe, his family will be safe, and God who can’t relate to that, as we grow older and we see our families and friends attacked and scarred, as we have children and want them out of harm’s way. Who wouldn’t be tempted to seize the chance to keep them safe?

I see so much of myself in Boromir. And I take hope. I take inspiration. I cheer through my tears as he is hit again and again with arrows and each time he gets back up on his feet and grits his teeth and you can see him thinking not today. As a child I thought Boromir was selfish but as an adult I hear him use his last breath to apologize to Aragorn and call him his brother and his king and I see he’s more selfless than he ever gave himself credit for being. Boromir sees only his faults, but we can see what he doesn’t, we see his positive impact and we see his virtues, too.

Because as an adult I’ve failed, and I want to believe that like Boromir, I’ve also succeeded, I’ve also been more than just my faults–even if I can’t see that yet.

Aragorn is who we should be. But Boromir is who we are.

And my God, we should be proud of that. Because Boromir is a damn good person to be.

#mads answers things #Lord of the Rings #LotR Meta #Boromir #Boromir meta #I cried just thinking about Boromir while writing this #Boromir is a goddamn hero #a tragic one but a hero all the same #and I will hear no different #extasiswings #I'M A FUCKING IDIOT WHO SAID MORIA INSTEAD OF MORDER #FUCKING FUCK #I FUCKED UP I FUCKED UP

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lunavadash-creates · 3 years

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YES, YOUR KNIFEY IS BACK. 🍾 And I don’t plan to go anywhere so it seems you are stuck with me from now. Mwahahahaha.

First of all I would like to congratulate you! I am so so SO PROUD OF YOU, my beloved Master! You totally deserve good rest and I hope you will have fun in Prague! I always wanted to see it myself, Prague is such beautiful city! There is The Mucha Museum and I would kill to be there and see works of one of my favourite artists myself. And Astronomical Clock! Ooooh, so many things to see! I hope you post some photos on your blog!

What are you going to do after your 3 month break? Having any plans already?

Well.. Those 8 days in Italy were so intense and a lot things happened. For example, MY BEST FRIENDS GOT ENGAGED!!! I am still in shock and can’t believe in it, but I am so happy for them! They are so beautiful together! The funny thing is, me and my friend came to senses few hours after announcement and we decided to throw surprise party for them. You can imagine how hard it was, since we were going everywhere together. And our love-birds were ruining all our evil plans with consequence. Our first idea was taking them to fancy restaurant to celebrate their engagement but nooo, let’s have pizza tonight! Or maybe aperitivo would be better idea! So we struggled for two freaking days and we end up buying them a cake and a champagne. It was miracle that we did it and they didn’t notice anything. I was buying candles with my engaged friend standing one meter away. All of this was on the highest adrenaline level ever.

We had beautiful apartament in Lucignano. The last night was spectacular! We had terrace on the rooftop so we spend time laying on our chairs with blankets and stargazing. There was thunderstorm, far away, on the horizon. We haven’t heard anything, we just saw lightnings. Have you ever seen The Lord of The Rings? It felt like we have seen Mordor from Minas Tirith. Unbelievable! And there were so many shooting stars!

Florence itself was amazing as always! Thanks to pandemy the city was almost empty and it was wonderful. Last time I was in Florence there were so many people we cannot move to be honest. Now we could see everything. If you will ever be in Florence Piazzale Michelangelo is totally must see. We were there before sunset and gods, that was a view!

But no, I am not in the mood for our Italian assassin. XD I don’t know, but I feel Ezio is overrated. Yeah, I like him, but he cannot compete with Altair. And Shay. And Edward. Aaaand Connor. And Bayek. And omg, I’m really into some good AC stuff. I'm going to re-read your posts while waiting for your OC/Altair story and rest of the requests. I read your previous descriptions of Amara’s story and geez, I AM WAITING IMPATIENTLY. Your latest headcanons made me cry a bit. They were really good! Also PMS spare no one and topic is really close to my heart. Edward’s headcanons definitely hit right in my heart. Thank you so much for making such good content! And writing all my requests! I know I can be pain in the ass, haha, but you have to deal with me.

AND YES, ALTAIR IN THE BOOK. ASDFGHJKLLOVE. I KNOW, I KNOW.

Loads of love Darling! Enjoy your trip to Prague, have fun and stay safe and healthy! Pretty please with cherries on top! 🍒

🔪

KNIFEY MY BELOVED!

Honestly I'm so so happy you're back i missed you, yes please let's be stuck together 😂💜

So thank you so much for your kind words! I studied at 2 universities so I have 1 more year to finish (second bachelor) and I plan to find a job and be... An adult.

I think I can post some photos here, i was in Prague once, years ago and I love that place. This time it will be better as im meeting a dear friend of mine. I cant wait!

Omg! Your friends got engaged! Thats so freaking AWESOME! I hope they will have their happilyever after and it's so nice of you to celebrate with a cake! And stargazing? Honestly I envy you so much right now! If I ever have the opportunity to visit Florence I will check that place you reccomend 💜

Im so happy you had fun, you deserve a nice vacation and a break. And there is nothing better than trips with friends.

As for LOTR... I've seen only part 1 of the movie. I know i k kw. Shame on me!

Ezio... Well I started to play ac games a bit over a year ago so I missed all Ezio hype and drama. I enjoy him as a character but I still stand by my words - Altair is the best and my fave assassin. I will always simp protect my boi! But in all honestly I enjoy all ac characters. Every has something interesting in them.

Also now its time to blush because gods. Im so happy you like my writing, i really try to get better and to keep all of them in character. Your words, my dearest Knifey, mean world to me. A WHOLE WORLD.

I hope I can post rest of your request soon but if you feel like it you can always send more! I'll happily write everything for you, it's the least i can do for your constant support.

Also Im still playing black flag! Im at this moment when Edward went to that assassin's island and was scolded for his actions. 😭😭

I hope to finish this game soon so I can understand Edward better!

Once again Altair in the book is top tier. I simp. I stan. I crave.

Thank you Knifey got reaching you and all your wishes! You too stay safe and healthy and enjoy summer!

Do you have any plans for those months? 👀 I never asked if you study or work but im curious since i told you about myself so much! Feel free to answer but no pressure!

Love you lots darling and sending all love and positive vibes!

I'm responding from my phone and tumblr app is so... Meh when it comes to asks. So if I forgot to answer something let me know!

#Knifey #Ask #Knifey my beloved

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vezely-a · 3 years

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@eveningcrown requested: meta + regrets? does she dwell on that sort of thing? what regrets does she have and does this change over her life? [always accepting meta requests tbh]

NO REGRETS!

Vezely might pitch a rock at you if implying she must feel regret for her life, that losing means you must concede to the enemy’s superiority, and call your life a failure. But yet, has she not failed? In all aspect of her life, yes, unfortunately she has.

...Oh wait, she has regrets.

Becoming an Exile of Rhûn The Jangovar Cleanse ( Kravod, T.A. 2780 ) was a coup where the Jagovar tribe “cleansed” the city/realm of Narimanush of a conservative political faction of tribal leaders to usurp power. She should have seen it coming. For years after, over and over in her head she replayed the events leading up to the poisoning and executions. How could she not see deceit in one of her comrades, Öldür? A man those in her faction trusted, she trusted, and who ended up poisoning them ( at a formal banquet, no less ).

A part of this was survivors guilt. She survived because she was not like others, physically at least. Her body refused to expire after all others did, including the last remaining patriarchs of her guardian’s bloodline ( so essentially the family she was guardian of ). It was sympathizers, priestesses of the Cult of Sarshen Meltek, worshippers of the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, who quietly confiscated her “not quite dead” body and nursed her back to health. Religion played a role here in her surviving, so did a will for revenge. If not against the Jangovar tribe, then against Öldür.

I mentioned Vezely was a conservative and part of that position meant fighting for a stricter autonomy of the realm of Narumanush against the growing power of the Eastern Realm of Bozarganush ( of which the Jangovar were quicker to subjugate ). She had sympathizers because of her steadfast contributions to the cult; constant coin funneled since her youth ( a virtue instilled by her guardian, you might say ). So her steadfast devotion to the cult and support of the Necromancer’s will saved her.

Unexpectedly, years later when she got her revenge ( a clandestine return to Kravod to kill Öldür ) and found a place in Khand ( among unaffiliated mercenary tribes as a sell-sword ), she accepted and perhaps learned to appreciate the severance from the turmoil of Narimanush’s political landscape. She shortened her name to “Vez” and walked as a disbanded warrior woman from Rhûn with no past worthy of note, having nothing to prove, and no obligation to tribe or family. Life was simpler. She belonged. She was seen as mortal. It was a rebirth which she found happiness in for awhile until her ruse could not longer hold up ( she did not age while others did ).

Departing Khand for Mordor For a brief period of time, she regretted coming to Mordor for work ( having moved on from Khand where labor networks are integrated with Mordor’s ). She reverted again to being defined by her race ( thanks to orcs smelling elf blood a mile away ) and was given a shit position handling slaves in Gorgoroth in order to prove herself. But she worked through it and made a name for herself. A good one by Mordor’s standards ( I do like the sound of Vez the Ruthless, ngl ).

Mordor’s Defeat When all was lost in the war, she had no time to regret, to digest that which was the hollowing of her life’s pursuits, the end of all she worked toward (though she did despair). Perhaps it helped acknowledging herself as a small cog in a big wheel; this defeat was not her fault and there was nothing she could have done to change the course of events. Dying in the war would have been easier if not for her fearing the unknown after-death ( What happens to elves when they die? She honestly did not know and that scared her ). During her wandering during those five years post-war, there are small regrets of misplaced trust in individuals since headhunting Sauron’s servants was rampant, but nothing severe to dwell on. She could not regret a lifetime of worshipping a now dead “god” without questioning her whole reason for existence. However, she does live in despair, fear, and was on a path to fading. I wrote about her condition in the Fourth Age before, but she is not doing well physically.

Fourth Age Regrets to Wallow in FOREVER In the Fourth Age and with her name once again Vezely, she regrets how her past affects those she loves. During many junctures, it unsteadies her will to stay in Rivendell alongside her husband because of all the turmoil her presence causes and the strain it puts on his people. Even if only a few are privy to the truth of her past and others believe she was simply a thrall in Sauron’s plans, she still carries the Shadow of mistrust. She cannot find her place. She does not belong. Obviously, a broken heart is worse for an elf so she stays put ( and ah, she loves and needs him cause let’s face it, she would fade without him. And as cheesy as it sounds, love begins to save her ) but it is so trying at times. Both of my main verse threads rn with @peredhellen touch on this issue and they make me sad.

And for her son, Elrandir, she regrets any stigma he may face from those who deem his mother a black spot on the illustrious family. She can handle having shame placed upon her, but not for her husband and son. And honestly, she may never move past this regret which undoubtedly gets revisited in Valinor among a new set of kin. It just sits and remains until Arda ends probably.

#hadgalah gazar; archive.#character study.#(( in which holly provides the best prompts ever #listen. vez keeps on rolling with the punches #and probably would until her body gives out which it is nearing in the fourth age #but i'm sorry i wrote too much here and added some non-canon galore but thank you for indulging me again ))#long post.

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lesbiansforboromir · 4 years

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once again you made me deeply emotional over boromir. i don't have the fellowship (much less the english edition) at hand, so i can't even re-read my fav parts with him. any particular boromir-related stuff you may share?

FUCK ok I’ve got a migraine and a passion and I do not know how to use either of them but I’m gonna use this ask to talk about something I’ve been thinking about for months, not kidding on that one.

Galadriel... was the direct cause of Boromir trying to take the ring- HEAR ME OUT.

There are some very important things to remember about Boromir when you’re considering his actions and motives.

- He explicitly came on the quest assuming it would lead them all to Minas Tirith, because that’s where he needed to get back too. It’s very clear, he and Aragorn are literally going because Minas Tirith is on the way to Mordor. And every detour and every delay of the Company amps up his frustration and worry.

- He left Gondor with the certainty that his city would be besieged VERY soon and that they would not be able to break it. His trip to Rivendell is desperation based in it’s entirety, he’s looking for anything that might help.

- He knows absolutely none of these people from adam and whilst he very much wants to trust them, they have yet to win his loyalty or faith in ANY capacity. I’m sorry! I know everyone wants the Fellowship to be that good good found family foundation but it simply isn’t that for Boromir and never has been.

Okay so when they finally leave Moria and Gandalf’s dead, everyone’s grieving and miserable. They are also worried, Gandalf was their guide and as much as Aragorn’s a tracker he doesn’t have Gandalf’s expertise. Then again, Moria had been entirely Gandalf’s decision in the first place, claiming there wouldn’t be many orcs in there at all in an argument he has with Boromir about how dangerous the mines would be in comparison to the Gap of Rohan. Indeed, if Bilbo hadn’t given Frodo the mithril shirt then Frodo would be straight up dead and it would have been Gandalf’s decisions that caused it.

So at this point Boromir’s faith in Aragorn’s ability is pretty low. And no one else in the Fellowship has any interest in leading. Boromir deferred to Aragorn’s judgement because Aragorn’s more knowledgeable of Eriador and also just... a dude who needs to be in control, it’s easy to tell. But now Boromir’s not so sure Aragorn’s up to it, since he seemed to rely on Gandalf so much.

And then Aragorn tells them all they’re going to go through the Golden Wood. Now Boromir knows from the Rohirrim and Gondorian legend that the Golden Wood is Strange And Scary And Dangerous And Men Who Walk in Never Walk Out Again. And he says this, politely. Aragorn tells him he’s foolish for fearing it and essentially that if people got hurt in the Golden Wood then they deserved it. Again, despite the general discourtesy of these comments, Boromir chooses to believe Aragorn’s judgement.

The next thing that happens is they are accosted by Haldir, treated like possible enemies or spies (despite Haldir admitting that Elrond had already told them they were coming) and a day and a lot of dwarfphobia later Haldir is threatening Gimli with death. No I’m not joking, Haldir says there’s a law dwarves can’t come into Lothlorien without a blindfold. And when Gimli gets justifiably angry about this and wants to go back if he’s being treated this way, Haldir says he WILL be killed if he tries to leave. Weapons are drawn! The only reason this de-escalates is because Aragorn suggests they all go blindfold because ‘it is hard on the dwarf to be so singled out’. I cannot express to you how soon this happens after Aragorn assures everyone that Lothlorien is safe. I also cannot emphasise enough how Gimli does absolutely nothing to deserve this, he’s polite and kind as ever until Haldir instigates it.

So again!! Another mark against Aragorn’s reliability! And then we come to the CRUX of the matter, the meeting with Galadriel and Celeborn.

A lot happens here, some of it very funny in terms of Galadriel’s treatment of Celeborn, but the important part is at the end where Galadriel mind-interrogates all the fellowship but Aragorn and Legolas. Again, this isn’t subtext, in-text it says interrogate. And the fellowship discusses it afterwards. Gimli, Sam, Merry and Frodo all agree that ‘Galadriel offered them a choice, to go back home where they would be safe, or to continue on with the quest though there may be far greater perils ahead’.

But that couldn’t have been the choice she gave Boromir. Because he can’t go home to be safe and sound away from the evil!! He lives there!! This has been Boromir’s fight his whole life, it has never BEEN a choice for him. And from this moment on Boromir’s manner changes dramatically. He questions Frodo about what Galadriel asked him, he expresses concern about Galadriel’s motives, he says he believes she was TEMPTING HIM (remember that for later), concerns which are, once again, sharply and cruelly dismissed by Aragorn.

There is then a MONTH of a time skip, we get descriptions of the how the other fellowship spend their time in Lothlorien. Gimli and Legolas become friends. Everyone else grieves Gandalf and has a lovely time in Lothlorien... apparently.

But Boromir has never had any real positive feelings toward Gandalf and did not show any real grief at his loss initially. And whereas the rest of the fellowship seems respectful and awed by Galadriel and Celeborn, Boromir replies to their questions at the end of the fellowship’s stay in Lothlorien with what I would call veiled anger. `As for me,' said Boromir, `my way home lies onward and not back.' Which is a callback to the interrogation, the stark difference between the motivations and priorities of the rest of the Fellowship in comparison to Boromir. Which became VERY obvious to him in that moment. So I would posit that! Boromir did not have a good time at all! Boromir was stuck somewhere he felt unsafe and unwelcome and every extra second they spent in Lothlorien was yet another moment he was away from his currently-at-war home!!!

Anyway just before they leave the fellowship is privately discussing what road they should take when Boromir makes a slip of the tongue, where he’d always been articulate and clear before.

‘But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain; and folly to throw away-’ He paused suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. `It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean.'

It is very obvious to Frodo what he actually meant here, and this is where essentially Frodo’s inner monologue lays it all out!

Frodo caught something new and strange in Boromir's glance, and he looked hard at him. Plainly Boromir's thought was different from his final words. It would be folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said something like this at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction of Elrond.

The important points in this section are that 1: Boromir has started thinking about the Ring of Power as something usable. 2: He did not think this before now, he had accepted Elrond’s words. This is ‘new and strange’. Something changed here.

And of course it did! Boromir doesn’t trust any of these clowns anymore.

Boromir’s advice, priorities and concerns have been almost entirely ignored and derided throughout the fellowship, even from the very moment he arrived in Rivendell! And after nearly freezing on a mountain, being chased by wargs, dragged through a mine of Orcs, a Balrog, threatened by supposed allies and then mind invaded by some elf he’s told to be in awe of, whatever will he had to trust and stay faithful to Aragorn’s decisions is barely hanging on.

And Galadriel didn’t just invade Boromir’s mind, she was tempting him! He says so himself! And considering the circumstances and how he speaks about it, the only logical conclusion is that she is tempting him with the ring, because Boromir’s shown no sign of conflict or interest in the ring before now. So Galadriel was the one who put that concept into his mind in the first place. It’s Galadriel who initiates Boromir thinking again on whether this was in Gondor’s best interests. And Boromir recognises she’s trying to manipulate him!! Which is fucking heartbreaking!!

'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. `Maybe it was only a test, and she thought to read our thoughts for her own good purpose; but almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give.’ (--) `Well, have a care! ' said Boromir. `I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.' `Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! ' said Aragorn sternly. 'You know not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware!’

Do you see?? Do you all see?? Am I making any sense at all?? Well I make sense to ME so lets continue- Here, you see how Aragorn puts all the blame on Boromir again? The twisted knot Boromir is in at this point is unfathomable and EVEN STILL! Boromir resists! For a very long time! This is what I mean when I say any characterisations of Boromir being overemotional or somehow out of control get at me so much, NEVER has a man had so much self discipline in his wholeass life. Boromir’s entire civilisation could be being bulldozed by Minas Morgul at this very moment and yet he takes everything that’s thrown at him without malice and internally continues to desperately hold onto his integrity.

But that’s what’s at stake! His integrity! Because now he’s grappling with what seems like a choice to either keep faith with the fellowship, stay with them and go where they go despite how much his country needs him, or potentially do something drastic in order to bring a the powerful weapon Gondor seems to have ALWAYS been looking for home to finally actually save his people. Because that’s what Galadriel offered him! And whilst he doesn’t trust her, it’s also in his head now as a logical thing to want! He doesn’t trust Elrond either at this point, so why should he believe what he said about the ring! It’s obvious everyone has boundless ulterior motives!!

Oh! Here’s a good place to try and explain my theory of how the ring’s temptation actually works. The Ring can control people one of two ways. The first we see with Frodo and with Boromir, it takes FULL control of their actions for a split second when they are vulnerable. For Frodo it made him put it on on Weathertop. For Boromir it made him attack Frodo. However this effect is exceedingly temporary and the person effected immediately comes back into themselves and recognises that what they did was outside of their control.

The other way is often thought of as this like pervasive constant pull to the ring that effects you even just by being around it, wearing you down etc. But I don’t think that’s what happens. I think, in order for the ring to start exerting real dangerous persistant power over you, you have to know it’s power and logically want it. You have to come to that conception yourself, you have to think about it.

And I have a lot of reasons for this but where it pertains here-!! Boromir is a fine, reliable and solid member of the fellowship RIGHT up until Galadriel’s mind meld. It’s not gradual, he goes from making jokes, carrying Hobbits and fighting Balrogs to BARELY being able to control his speech and biting his nails and staring at Frodo creepily. There is barely any easing into it and it starts with Galadriel!!

And you know what! There’s an even more sinister layer to this because like... WHY was Galadriel doing this mind stuff in the first place? An immediate obvious answer would be to test the fellowship, to make sure everyone was solid enough to carry on, to ensure the folk who continued were focused. But... If that’s the case... and Boromir’s test was the Ring... like... he obviously failed that test right? She was reading his mind! And she does it again before they leave! If we’re to assume that Galadriel’s mind powers are greater than Boromir’s ability to deflect them then... surely she would have known! That this turmoil was in him! And if she KNEW then why didn’t she say anything to anyone? To Aragorn?? But I don’t think yall are ready for that discussion yet tbh and I have to stop typing or I’ll go blind.

TL;DR Boromir didn’t want the Ring until Galadriel tempted him with it and made the idea of it saving Gondor a possibility to him.

#galadriel critical #boromir #erran vs tolkien #UGH that was good to get out even though I am CERTAIN it's incomprehensible #tolkien #lotr #gondor #I've got so much boromir meta built up in me cus I've been too out of it to do any real writing #and so many asks I wanna answer right!!#chats #HHHH #Anonymous

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