#Boromir Week

[boromir-week]

Welcome to Boromir Week!

June 14-20, 2025

After discovering that there was a Boromir Week event 10 years ago and losing sleep because I was constantly thinking about how much Boromir DESERVES to have an event dedicated to him, I decided to try and bring it back.

Bring your Boromir fics, art, gifs, moodboards, and headcanons for a week of being absolutely normal about our beloved Captain of Gondor!

I have made a separate FAQ post with basic information about the event. If you have additional questions, I will do my best to answer them.

Prompts: Day 1: Brother of Faramir, Childhood, Protector and Teacher (Details)

Day 2: Son of Finduilas, Maternal Family, Grief and Loss (Details)

Day 3: Son of Denethor, Paternal Family, Thorongil (Details)

Day 4: Teen Years, Captain of Gondor, Friend of Rohan (Details)

Day 5: The People's Prince, Rivendell, Member of the Fellowship (Details)

Day 6: Change of Fate, Fourth Age, Alternate Universe (Details)

Day 7: Freeform (Details)

[annabthesolitarywriter]

Boromir Week Prompts

Here are some ideas I came up for @boromir-week. Things may be changed or slightly altered/implemented, but these are things I feel comfortable writing (I'm a Boromir novice, so bear with me)

Day 1: Seven-year-old Boromir comes up with the brilliant idea of teaching his little brother the basics of swordfighting after getting bored while reading him children's books their mother specifically selected for him. All seems to be going well until Finduilas catches him swinging a wooden sword at baby Faramir. A stern talk from the former Princess of Dol Amroth follows, where she tries to explain to her eldest son that being a teacher to his brother doesn't just entail swordfighting.

Day 2: The last days of Finduilas of Dol Amroth. Finduilas has a talk with her little boys just a few hours before she dies, reminding them to always have each other's back and to love one another no matter what. She also talks to them about her worries and privately tells Boromir to protect Faramir from Denethor. Members of her family, such as Imrahil and Ivriniel, might appear.

Day 3: Denethor and Boromir have a private dinner (just the two of them) where Denethor asks him whether he's ever been intimate with women and then tells him that he should be wed soon since he's reached the age of majority and one of the potential brides—if not the only one Denethor thought of, as there's no one who's good enough for his beloved son—is one of his sisters' daughter. Boromir is taken aback and tries to talk back to him before bowing his head.

Day 4: Boromir travels to Meduseld on a sort of diplomatic mission on Denethor's orders and meets Théodred. The two boys, who've never met one another before, discover that they have a lot in common.

Day 5: It's only been a few days since the Fellowship has departed Rivendell and Boromir feels out of his element, his mind restless. Merry and Pippin sit by him and he soon relaxes as they start asking him questions about his homeland. A cultural exchange ensues between the three of them and Boromir realizes he knew very little about Hobbits and understands what special people they are.

Day 6: Boromir Lives AU specifically tied to my main WIP (currently on hiatus and to be rewritten). Boromir is in Emyn Arnen visiting his brother when Eönwë, the Herald of Manwë, shows up and asks for a private audience with Faramir and Finduilas, his second wife (yes, Éowyn died and Faramir remarried and his second wife shares her name with the Gondor bros' mother). Boromir wants to leave the room to let them speak in private, but Faramir begs him to stay. The Herald intends to marry Enna (full name Elenna), the Prince of Ithilien's eldest daughter and Boromir is shocked when Faramir downright refuses and nearly insults Eönwë. The Herald accepts the Steward's decision, but Boromir—who has grown to respect and admire Eönwë—can see that the Maia is devastated and, knowing that his niece will be even more devastated, promises him he will try and convince his brother to change his mind about the marriage. A deep and heartfelt conversation about love, war and trauma follows.

Day 7: Boromir Lives AU! specifically tied to The Lady of Ithilien. Eönwë and Elenna visit Boromir and his family at his place in Osgiliath and two of their children, Boromir and Elarion, tag along. Boromir is soon forced to babysit two rambunctious half-Maiarin children who touch everything they see, argue and push one another constantly and cannot seem to stand still. Boromir's own children make an appearance as well.

Alternate idea for Day 7:

FoA 16, Osgiliath. Crown Princess Elenna of the Reunited Kingdom is visiting her uncle's residence, accompanied by Maira, her maid and confidante, she is there on an official trip to Osgiliath to witness the reconstruction of the city. That's the official reason, at least. She is there to escape the wrath of her husband, Prince Eldarion. She is five months pregnant and has been abused by her now husband during her betrothal and marriage. Boromir learns about it and tries his best to protect her. Boromir's wife, Idhrildin, and their three daughters also appear. Featuring a surprise ending.

That's it! I'm really happy about these and I'll start working on them as soon as possible!

[ardate]

Every Boromir hater makes my enormous love for him grow stronger. Sorry you couldn't understand him, I get him tho and we're holding hands and the whole of Gondor is laughing at you

[backhurtyy]

the pain in my vein is hereditary dynasty by rina sawayama // the hobbit + the lord of the rings

[tsuyonpuu]

Last night I dreamed that Merry and Pippin made a Flower Crown for Boromir and it was labeled as ‚the king got his crown‘ haha

Anyways should I finish this ? 🥹🌼

[exercise-of-trust]

*pops up from an irregularly scheduled lotr reread with blood in my teeth* your honor i simply care so much about him

(lagoon nebula photo by judy schmidt, whose astrophotography is, just, so incredibly cool, and you should check out the rest of her work if you like this kind of thing)

[scyllas-revenge]

hi! i just read you leap of faith parts and it made my heat flutter🩷 how do you think legolas, boromir, and aragorn would react to you sleep talking during the journey? i always thought it would be funny !

Thanks so much!! I’m so glad you liked it. I’m still having trouble finding a voice for Aragorn, and I’m ready to move on from Legolas for now, but here’s a bit about Boromir and a sleeptalking reader for you <3 I meant for this to be a 300 word drabble but it got away from me a bit, as usual.

A Thief in the Night

Boromir/gender-neutral reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1,300

Read on AO3!

“No, no, please!”

Boromir’s eyes snapped open. Your bedroll was the closest to his in the Fellowship’s makeshift camp, and your panicked cry had him wide awake at once. He leapt from his bedroll with a warrior’s instinct, his hand flying to his sword to defend you from— 

Nothing. You were still asleep.

The entire Fellowship remained undisturbed, other than occasional resounding snores from Gimli, a peaceful breeze ruffling the tall grass around your camp.

But even in the faint moonlight, it was clear your sleep was not peaceful, not any longer. “Please, they’re mine, you can’t…please—” Your eyes darted back and forth under their lids, your limbs twitching. Boromir hardly recognized your voice, hoarse with misery, sharpening quickly to fury. “I said they’re mine, give them back!” 

In the throes of your dream, you stretched out a grasping hand, nearly clawing at his concerned face as he leaned over you. “Whoa now,” he murmured, catching your thrashing wrists in a broad hand. Your mouth twisted into a snarl as you strained at his grip, vainly reaching for something long lost. 

Boromir sent a reluctant look back to his sword. Would that your tormentor was a thing of flesh and blood, something he might tear apart on your behalf! Such intangible enemies as these were beyond him. How was one meant to calm someone lost to such a nightmare? Uncertainly, he whispered your name. “Come now, you must wake.” 

Your unconscious attempts to shake him off put him in mind of a horse beset by flies. “No, no, stop, you sneaking—foul—thief! Give them back, damn you…”

Clumsily, he brushed the back of his fingers along your cheek, interrupting your tirade. “Arise, dearest, for you—” He choked at dearest, stifling a hurried cough. Valar, he had hardly intended to address you so intimately—it must have been a slip of the tongue, he decided, in his haste to comfort you.

Or perhaps his own dreams, cut short by your cries, had not yet left his mind.

Still, you remained asleep, and likely for the best. He took a deep breath and jostled your shoulder—less intimate, and therefore a good deal safer. “Wake up! I shall retrieve what was taken from you, if I can. But you must wake.” 

“No—no, you thieving rat, Pippin—”

“Pippin?” he repeated, startled. Had he heard you wrong? 

“…don’t even need them—hobbits don’t even wear shoes, just give them back!” 

“What?”

His baffled exclamation woke you at last, traces of fury still lingering on your brow. “What? Where—where is Pippin?”

Boromir raised an eyebrow. “The thieving rat, you mean? Sleeping soundly in his bedroll.”

“No, no, it’s a lie! My walking boots, Pippin stole them, he…he…” But your voice trailed off in confusion as your mind returned to you. Your eyes flickered down to your hands, still caught gently in his, then back up to his face. 

Coughing hastily, Boromir withdrew. “You—you were dreaming.” 

“Oh. Yes.” Groggily, you sat up and rubbed at your eyes. “Pippin stole my walking boots.”

Boromir stared at you for a long moment. You stared back. Then he was laughing, more heartily than he had in months—perhaps since he’d left Minas Tirith on this cursed journey in the first place. He rested his forearm on his bent knee, burying his head in the crook of his arm to stifle the sound. 

Stretching out his other leg beside you, he met your gaze again at last, tears of mirth welling in his eyes. Your defensive scowl mollified him a bit, though he could not help smiling fondly at you.

“It made a great deal of sense in my mind, you know,” you protested. “Pippin grew jealous that hobbits wore no shoes, as the race of Man does. So he took my boots when I removed them for the night, put them on, and fled—oh, stop laughing, will you? You’ll wake the others!” 

Boromir nodded, valiantly attempting to calm himself. “I had thought you beset by some great terror,” he admitted, “but I had not expected such betrayal from within our own Company.” 

“It was not so dire as all that,” you muttered, looking embarrassed. “I had nearly caught him when you woke me.” 

“Is that so?”

You nodded. “Pippin was unused to wearing boots. He ran like a dog trying to cross a frozen pond.” 

For another moment, Boromir was lost again, chest heaving helplessly with silent laughter until you delivered a swift punch to his arm. “Ahem. Forgive me.” He had not meant to lose himself to your words like a drunken, lovesick youth. “Always you take me by surprise,” he said softly, in explanation.

“Yes, well. You are forgiven.” A shy smile played on your lips, and he beamed at the sight.

“Would that all our dreams were so lighthearted—that yours might remain so, though we journey into darkness.” On impulse, he took your hand in his again, squeezing warmly. “Would that I might protect you from—”

“From thieving hobbits?”

Valar, how he wanted to kiss you. “Yes, exactly.” He sent an exaggerated glower in Pippin’s direction, hoping to win more of your laughter. 

But your smile had grown pensive, and you shook your head. “Have your dreams been so dark, then, Boromir?” 

No one had asked him such a thing before, had ever given a thought to his dreams beyond the one that had brought him hither. “They have been, at times. But not tonight. I—” He looked away quickly, his traitorous mind supplying memories of his earlier dream in salacious, torturous detail. “Well. Pippin’s untimely theft woke me from it, in any case.”

“I’m sorry to have disturbed it,” you said. “He interrupted a more pleasant dream for me, too.”

“Oh?” He risked meeting your eyes again, but found that you were the one looking hurriedly away now. It was too dark to tell, but he thought a flush was rising to your cheeks. 

“It’s—a dream I’ve had often before. There was no harm done, really.” Your hand fidgeted in his. “Boromir, I—I have not talked in my sleep before tonight, have I?” 

“Not that I have heard,” he assured you, and your shoulders slumped in relief. He eyed you curiously for a moment more, but you offered no further explanation, your eyes still determinedly avoiding his. “I should let you return to your rest,” he said at length, “that such a dream might find you again.” 

Now the heat on your face was obvious, even in the faint moonlight. “Thank you.” Meeting his eyes at last, you disentangled your hand from his, patting the back of his hand fondly before drawing away. “I wish you the same.”

“I...I will see you at dawn, then,” he said awkwardly, distracted by the heat of your fingers still sinking into his palm.

Smiling softly, you turned away and burrowed into your bedroll. “Oh, I hope to see you sooner than that,” you murmured. “Providing no thieving hobbits interrupt me again.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” Boromir leaned over your bedroll again, blood thrumming in his ears—but your eyes were determinedly shut tight, the hand that had rested in his clutched tight to your chest. “Will you not speak plainly?” he demanded, and he swore a faint grin flickered over your lips.

“Goodnight, Boromir.” Your teasing voice was so faint that he nearly missed it, and he retreated to his blankets with his mind racing, his heart pounding, thoroughly defeated and thoroughly in love.

There was no chance of returning to his dreams of you now, he knew. In only a few words, you had robbed him of his sleep for the rest of the night—and likely many more nights to come.

[electracution]

Finished my last exam for art school, now I'm just waiting for results. You know what that means... *Eyes my 60k word Boromir fic*

[yourdailyjormy]

on second thoughts i'm giving the coloured version its own post because dagnabbit i'm proud of my work and i want people to see it in full (and the reblog is thoroughly buried under the initial lineart)

anyway in some alternate universe where boromir doesn't die he and éomer get to be besties and bond over their family trauma and little siblings who they love more than life itself, and also go kill orcs together. and i want to see more of that boromir lives au.

(my read on canon is very much "they met a few times, they clicked and were immediately Pals, but also per Éomer himself Boromir didn't get to travel much so it was only ever 'friendly acquaintances' even though both of them would have loved to be better friends")

[ao3statistics]

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

Welcome to my LotR charts event!

Date of creation: 10.05.2024

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

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

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

This sounds cute btw but also weirdly specific?

More charts will follow. :)

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

[boromir-week]

(For the Day 1 prompt "Brother of Faramir")

After being dormant for 10 years, Boromir Week will return from mountain and from sea June 14-20, 2025!

If you are a Boromir girlie/gent/stan/simp, then this event is for you! So, come join us, and bring your fanfiction, art, gifs, moodboards, and headcanons that highlight everything you love about our Captain of Gondor!

[frodo-cinnamonroll]

LotR Meme of the Week: Which Side Are You On (#34)

Source: @shakrub on Pinterest

Just as an FYI, I will not be posting a weekly meme next week because it's Christmas day :)

[echo-bleu]

Hi, if you still take suggestions for Ace week, I headcanon Faramir as demisexual and Boromir as aro-ace.

Yessss I love these headcanons!

This is more of a coloured sketch than a full painting, but that's what I had time for today. And it's my first book!Boromir design, too.

They're judging you.

[kylobith]

LotR Week - Day 7 (17th Dec) - Happy 20th anniversary to The Return of the King!

free prompt

Word count: 2,155

Like every year, it is movie night and everybody participates in one way or another.

Sam busies himself in the kitchen, wearing his apron over his clothes, tidying up while his stew cooks on the stove so there would be little clutter left to clean up once the evening has been enjoyed. Éowyn offered her help but was kindly distracted by Aragorn and Faramir at once, who suggested that she prepare the plates of snacks instead. So, happy to be included anyway, she stands at the little table set up in the corner of the kitchen and lays out cubes of cheese and other finger food on several plates, planting little sword-shaped picks into them so nobody would pick the food with their own fingers. Blissfully captivated by her task, a wide grin upon her face, she ignores the hidden high-five that her husband and the man she once thought she loved share in her back.

Counting the seats to ensure that everybody has the perfect and comfortable spot for them, Frodo clicks his tongue and rearranges some of the chairs. As Merry crosses the room to bring clean hand towels for the bathroom, he halts him and asks him to bring another chair from the library once he is done hanging the towels beside the sink.

Standing atop a stepladder — although she hardly needs it — Arwen hangs fairy lights above the windows, asking Pippin whether they are straight enough before taping them, with the Hobbit cutting off strips and handing them to her. Once every window is ornamented, she climbs down the ladder and folds it, letting Pippin carry it back to the closet in the corridor. Then, she hastens to put candles in their holders all over the place for the perfect atmosphere.

Sitting on the only rocking chair they could put their hands on, Gandalf smokes his pipe with a wide grin. Everybody agreed that he should sit down and enjoy his night, and he planned to do exactly that. He observes the lively house buzzing with activity with a smile, content to see everyone working together to make this movie night unforgettable, as always. While Aragorn brings the plates over to the table once Éowyn is done preparing them, the old wizard keeps his staff in hand, glaring at Pippin every time that he comes too close to them. He will not have him steal any of the delicacies before the night has even started, thank you very much.

Merry returns to the kitchen after adding the chair requested by Frodo to the living room.

‘Towels are up, Sam,’ he says, burying his hands in his pockets. ‘What can I do next?’

‘I think we should be alright by now,’ the cooking Hobbit replied, stirring the stew with a satisfied grin. ‘Have you swept the hallway too?’

‘As requested, yes. By the way, why are you cooking a stew for movie night? I doubt anyone will feel like eating that.’

‘Nonsense! Every night is good for stew. You’re just jealous you can’t cook one as delicious as this one. Oh, by the way, are the ales ready?’

Merry thinks for a moment and nods.

‘They are, but I will add some to the fridge just to be safe.’

‘Thanks.’

The doorbell rings, heralding the first guest’s arrival. Faramir opens the door and instantly opened his arms to embrace his older brother.

‘Welcome, Boromir,’ he chimes, patting his back. ‘You are the first one to arrive!’

‘Éowyn threatened to slit my throat if I arrived late, so I did not have much of a choice.’

‘Ah, you know how she gets. Come in, let me take your coat.’

As Faramir hangs Boromir’s coat on the rack and closes the door, Boromir waves at the company, holding up a pack of fresh ales. Merry takes the cans from him, enthusiastically greeting him and showing him to Frodo, who guides him to his assigned seat. The newcomer sits down and begins to chatter with Gandalf, exchanging pleasantries and catching up with each other.

Soon after, Legolas and Gimli arrive, all smiles and hand in hand. Their cloaks are gracefully taken by Faramir once more, and they step inside the living room.

‘I brought Lembas bread,’ Legolas announces with pride, placing the leaf he has wrapped them in on the table along with the other snacks.

‘A whole Elvish culinary culture, yet it is always Lembas bread he brings to everything,’ Gimli groans behind his boyfriend’s back to Boromir.

Éowyn throws a glance at the clock on the wall and grunts.

‘They are late. Unbelievable.’

‘That is quite alright,’ Gandalf laughs. ‘The Rohirrim are never late, nor are they early.’

‘Yes, yes, they arrive precisely when they mean to, I have heard that before.’

‘No. They are terrible when it comes to time management.’

The old wizard’s playful remark triggers a chuckle from Éowyn, enabling her to relax after having insisted for days that everybody come on time for the film. She warned them and yet they do not bother respecting the time given to them. It is their loss, she thinks to herself. There is nothing more that she can do.

Sam peeks into the living room to ensure that everything is in order. Taking off his oven mittens, he admires everybody’s work with glee.

‘Well, I see that we are still missing four people. Ah, well, they are all supposed to bring something, so… You can already have a nibble, but do not go overboard. Especially you, Merry and Pippin!’

‘We would not dare!’

‘Don’t worry, Sam,’ Gandalf reassures the busy Hobbit, ‘I am keeping an eye on them.’

Sam nods and disappears into the kitchen again. At the same time, another guest announces their arrival through the ringing of the doorbell. When Faramir answers it, Arwen gasps with joy and trots up to her father to embrace him.

‘Ada!’

Elrond grins and lifts his daughter as he presses a kiss to her temple.

‘I apologise for the delay, little star,’ he says, gently patting her cheek. ‘Somebody parked their horse in the worst way possible outside.’

Before Faramir can close the door after the Elven lord, somebody pushes it open, nearly sending it crashing against his nose.

‘Sorry, sorry, I’m here! Rang at the wrong house.’

Out of breath and his golden hair dishevelled, Éomer has no coat to hand to his brother-in-law. The latter, however, instantly leans in to whisper to him.

‘Steer clear of your sister if you want to make it out of here alive.’

‘Ah, let her skin me. Not the first time.’

Before his sister stumbles upon him and scolds him, the Rohir opens a box of store-bought doughnuts and puts it on the table, compromising on a spot with Elrond, who has come with some Elven pastries for everyone to enjoy. Since some of the guests have already started to eat, they already pick something to nibble on. Aragorn lifts one of the swords carrying a piece of cheese, but before he can tuck it between his teeth, Arwen snatches it and holds it up teasingly.

‘Hey, that’s mine!’ he laughs, taking her by the waist.

‘If you want it, come and claim it.’

‘Mh. I could retrieve it by force, but it is not this day.’

And so, she throws the cheese into her mouth, giggling as Aragorn comes to place a tender kiss upon her rosy lips. Meanwhile, Frodo starts gathering the guests and showing them to their assigned seats and chairs, explaining his choice but allowing them to switch at any time. Pippin walks around asking what everybody wants to drink, acting like a waiter while Merry fetches the beverages that his cousin requests.

Théoden arrives shortly after, carrying the best wines that Rohan has to offer. Éowyn takes him by the hand and leads him to a comfortable armchair, while Pippin comes to tend to him, offering him something to eat. The king of Rohan decides to share a bottle of wine with Elrond and Gandalf as they watch Frodo pacing up and down.

‘There is something missing. But I forgot what it is.’

‘Some actual Elven food, maybe?’ Gimli grunts, eyeing Legolas before following Merry to help him carry a large cool box to the living room, so every drink will be easy to reach.

As Frodo regards Legolas quizzically, the latter whispers:

‘Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?’

‘But it is the eleventh event in a row that you bring Lembas bread.’

‘It is consistent food, does not require a lot of preparation, does not take up much space… It is the perfect choice.’

The Hobbit nods with a dubitative expression, before patting him in the back. He circles around the table and observes the decoration again, the coats on the rack, the seats he has assigned on his list… Oh. There is one vacant, with no name assigned to it.

Behind him, Sam claps his hands and everyone hurries off to their seat. Boromir sits on the end of the couch beside his brother, playfully rubbing his knuckles against Faramir’s scalp, holding him in a gentle headlock and laughing. Éowyn sits next to her husband and pats the space next to her to invite Éomer to join them.

Éomer grumbles and sits down with his arms crossed.

‘You two lovebirds better not snog the entire time,’ he groans. ‘It is sickening.’

‘Oh, shush.’

The three elders sit around each other, while the four Hobbits plan to sit on cushions on the floor, preferring the cosiness of the set-up to the mismatched chairs. On the right side, Gimli and Legolas sit beside each other, with the dwarf discreetly biting a piece of Lembas bread that he will never admit to having consumed to Legolas, who reclines into his chair with a cup of wine in his hand. Next to them, Aragorn and Arwen take their seats, bringing them closer together so they can cuddle while watching the film.

Sam serves everyone a small cauldron-shaped bowl of stew, much to their surprise, but nobody criticises the choice. They all gladly devour the beef, potatoes and vegetables while Pippin makes the (very) questionable choice to alternate between a spoonful of the sauce and a lick at a ring pop on his finger. While he tastes the candy, a screech resonates against the window from outside.

Two wide blue eyes ogle the Hobbit’s treat.

‘Preciousss?’

Before anybody has time to react, Faramir closes the blinds in Sméagol’s face.

Frodo is still confused. He counts everything on the table again, the number of seats that he planned for. There is still somebody and something missing.

When the doorbell rings, Frodo rushes to welcome the last guest. All smiles and carrying two wide salad bowls full of popcorn, a young man with long, dark blond hair appears.

‘Hi, sorry that I am late.’

‘Théodred!’

Éomer is beyond relieved to see his cousin at the door. He makes some more space between himself and his sister for him to sit.

‘There is no movie night without popcorn,’ Merry coos. ‘Alright, I believe that everyone’s here and we have all the snacks in the world!’

‘Indeed,’ Sam grins. ‘Everybody sit down.’

Théodred hugs his father and bypasses the Hobbit, careful not to step on them as he walks past them on his way to the couch. He settles between his two adoptive siblings and gladly accepts wine from Sam.

‘I am glad that you are here,’ Éomer whispers to him. ‘That way I won’t have to see Éowyn and Fari making out the whole time.’

‘Don’t be an arse, ‘Mer,’ Théodred sighs without even casting a glance in his direction, watching Aragorn switch on the TV and browse a whole catalogue of films until he finds the right one.

Sam switches off the light before sitting down, plunging the living room into darkness, if not for the many candles and fairy lights carefully laid out by Arwen. Aragorn selects the film and it starts to play.

‘Ah, The Return of the King!’ Legolas exclaims joyfully. ‘Excellent choice.’

‘I can’t wait to see Boromir die again!’ Pippin cackles, earning a loud ‘Hey!’ from the concerned party.

Merry leans closer, munching one of Elrond’s pastries.

‘It’s not in that one, Pip.’

‘Oh.’

As the title screen appears, Arwen leans on her elbows, resting her chin in the palms of her hands and staring fondly at the television.

‘Twenty years. Can you believe it?’

‘Time flies, that is for sure,’ Théoden grins, raising his glass before sipping his wine.

‘Unbelievable,’ Gimli scoffs, realising how long it has been since it all happened. ‘Do you think that there is someone out there who enjoys our adventures as much as we did?’

There is a long moment of silence, only disturbed by the film’s music. Frodo crosses his arms with a sullen expression.

‘Enjoy is a bit of an overstatement.’

And here we are, at the end of LotR Week. It has been an amazing challenge to write these short pieces with such vague yet inspiring prompts about our favourite characters and this trilogy that means so much to us for different reasons.

Thank you, @lotr20 and especially @southfarthing, for organising all of that. I'm definitely going to miss this event now that it's done. You have sparked such camaraderie within the fandom, connected strangers and inspired others, and it is nothing short of amazing.

Thank you to all of those who have engaged with my writing in one way or another, who have shared my works and taken the time to not only read them, but comment on them. A special shoutout to @konartiste, @emmanuellececchi, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras, @sotwk and @meluiloth-of-rivendell for your support. You have made me fall in love with writing all over again and you have made me feel so appreciated and accepted this week! ♥

And, of course, happy anniversary to The Return of the King, a film that moves me beyond belief and that brings me so much comfort when I need it. I wish I had the time to watch it today to celebrate, but unfortunately, time wasn't on my side. So here's this little piece instead!

[memorayy]

really quick boromir doodle because i was reminded of my love for him at the cinema

NORTHERNERS REPRESENT - me whenever i hear sean bean fail at not using his northern accent as boromir and it makes me very happy as a northerner