#boromir/théodred

[2x4swrites]

Hi.... hello... I'm too tired to make a polished post for this one, but here's 4k words of Théodred/Boromir/Aragorn fluff + smut that I reverse engineered Rohanese neologisms for.

if you read it I'm sending you 47,000 heart emojis

(link in notes)

[gandalf-the-fool]

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Why did Boromir and Théodred never get married?

There isn't the weird Athrabeth logic of "oh we don't get married and have children when we're at war (which is exactly when we really should be busy repopulating but whatever, Calaquendi are weird)". It's actually the opposite! Rohan and Gondor, two kingdoms in perpetual war for centuries, even millennia, populated by Men, who don't live forever. That weird Calaquendi logic wouldn't exist.

And these two idiots (affectionate) are a little important in those kingdoms.

Théodred was the crown prince. Boromir was the Ruling Steward's heir. They were somewhat high ranking men in the kingdom. Y'know what somewhat high ranking men and women in kingdoms are supposed to do?

Marry and have heirs.

Both these men were in their forties. By this point, not only should they have children, but they should probably have grandchildren on the way. I don't really care about their preferences - this is a matter of national security!!!!!

I'm so confused.

[zhoudadudugongjin]

just saw a meme on the internet that implied boromir was straight and i'm like wtf his secret, hot and equally-dead horsegirl boyfriend prince théodred of rohan is laughing so hard rn that he just snorted ale out of his nose

[borom1r]

⚔️ 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ⚔️

Behold, an Ongoing Project! 📯

I've been wanting to compile this for a while, instead of frantically scrambling for references every time I sit down to write — I thought it would be fun to share! I'm mostly tackling this from the perspective of a fanfic author, and also as someone who's very into viking era-through-renaissance men's fashion and armor.

I think it's really fun to look at the decisions that were made strategically (to maintain actor mobility, for example), because they looked cool (Faramir's pointless hinged piece on his helmet), or because they were actually period-accurate (gambesons under chainmail, or worn as armor by themselves!). I'm also taking it as a chance to point out what these garments say about their owners!

I say this in the document itself, but there's no need to credit me if you reference/use the doc for your own writing ^_^ this is some of my favorite stuff to discuss, so just getting to share it is cool enough to me.

I'm purely focusing on human characters to start, because of the more solid real-world parallels, but I'm happy to add on to this if there are other characters you'd like to see!!

(@potatoflower7 + @rivers-for-me, tagging you both bc you interacted w/ the posts I made when I was just starting this!)

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

I’m (maybe?) almost done with a Théodred story I’ve been working on for a long time and, in looking back over some of my notes about his canon life, I couldn’t help clocking the many similarities between his experiences and those of LOTR’s other first son of a kingdom of men, Boromir. It’s not super relevant to my story, but I ended up with this running list and I’m just sticking it here because why not. None of this is groundbreaking stuff (and there are probably more) but so far I have that Théodred and Boromir both:

1. Were heirs to the leadership of their respective realms and held their land’s senior military positions (Second Marshal for Théodred—there being no First Marshal at the time—and Captain of the White Tower for Boromir).

2. Lost their mothers early (Théodred at birth and Boromir at age 10) and grew up in households run entirely by powerful fathers who never remarried.

3. Ended up taking on dangerous challenges at least in part because those fathers were both having their reason and good judgment manipulated by opponents (Théoden through the treachery of Gríma/Saruman and Denethor by the selective truths shown to him by Sauron in the palantír).

4. Got killed in a battle where their opponents were targeting them to the exclusion of others around them (Saruman’s forces at the Isen were told to kill Théodred at all costs even while “disregarding” others, and the orcs at Parth Galen fire their arrows “always at Boromir” while leaving Merry and Pip untouched).

5. Were trying to summon aid at the time they were struck down (Théodred is shouting “To me, Eorlingas!” to summon reinforcements when he’s fatally wounded. Boromir blows his great horn to alert the rest of the fellowship before he’s brought down).

6. Took massive injuries but lived long enough afterward to pass on last words in which they invoke the names of the men who will come to replace them as leaders and express the hope that those next leaders will achieve victory (Elfhelm and Grimbold believe Théodred is dead before they discover he’s still breathing just enough to say, “Let me lie here to keep the fords til Éomer comes.” Boromir, as we all know, lays there with those arrows in his chest long enough to be found by Aragorn, at which point he says, “Farewell, Aragorn. Go to Minas Tirith and save my people.”).

7. Died within hours of each other (Théodred on the night on February 25 and Boromir around midday on the 26) at the same age of 41 because, oh yeah, they were also born within months of each other.

8. Didn’t get a burial/funeral in keeping with their status and the traditions of their people because they died in awful circumstances far from home (Théodred dies and is buried by Elfhelm and Grimbold’s companies at the fords rather than in the barrows outside of Edoras with his ancestors. Boromir is sent over the falls by the three hunters instead of laying in Rath Dínen with the other kings and stewards of Gondor).

9. Mentored and protected little brother-type figures (Faramir as Boromir’s actual little brother and Éomer as Théodred’s cousin/adopted little bro) who would go on to achieve what they were unable to do themselves while alive.

10. Died unmarried and childless despite being extremely marriageable, in the primes of their lives and presumably expected to produce another heir. (There’s an explanation given for Boromir—he’s not into women and prefers fighting and arms—though there is none for Théodred.) (Like many other people, I have my own personal HC for Théodred’s romantic life, but that’s for another day.)

I’m not sure what to make of all that, but I find it interesting. We hear so often about contrasts between Gondor and Rohan—the different histories and heritages, the personality of cold, hard Denethor against kindly, grandfatherly Théoden, the magisterial stone and marble of Minas Tirith versus the rustic wood and thatch of Edoras, Gondor’s vast libraries and the Rohirrim’s oral traditions—but they’re so deeply linked as kingdoms and as individuals. By fate and by choice, they’re inextricably tied together, and I love the amount of detail that went into creating and including the subtle parallels between the first sons of each land as just one more way to see those ties play out.

[celeluwhenfics]

Drabble challenge! Théodred as the character and “perfect” as the word. (Not putting my thumb on the scales at all! Though I do, indeed, believe him to be perfect, I will not be upset in the least if you apply the word to someone else or in a different context as part of your drabble! 🙂)

Thank you for the ask, and Rohan themed! Perfect... Théodred... It was almost too easy. I tried to give a little (sweet) twist! 🍦

'Wait, there's more coming!' The early summer sun played amongst the ivy leaves falling like curtains over the colonnade. Spots of light and shade danced across the table, making the crystal glasses and silver dishes sparkle under the crumbs and ruins of a copious meal. 'More?' Théodred stretched with a groan. 'It is all delicious, but I have had so much already, I am quite sure that Silverswift will refuse to carry me!' Boromir's gaze lazed over his arms, his neck, his chest, and flashed hopefully at the hem of his tunic for a glimpse of his bare skin. 'You cannot make me believe that you are full already. A strong rider like you needs his sustenance, and you had a long journey to get here!' Théodred puffed, rubbing his stomach. 'Well, it shall be a quite a culinary deed to convince me to eat any more than this.' 'Have some faith in the cooks of Minas Tirith!' A servant placed two chiseled coupes in front of them and slid away. Théodred marvelled at the alternating layers of fruit and smooth, cloud-like dollops. 'I must say, it does look nice...' He raised an expectant spoon. 'Peaches from the orchards of South Ithilien, raspberries from Lossarnach, cream of almond, aquafaba meringue, nectar of the maple, and just a hint of rose from the garden! But of course, if you are not hungry anymore, there is no need to--' 'And how do you call this?' slurred Théodred through a mouthful. 'A parfait,' smiled Boromir. 'It means perfect.' Their eyes laughed into each other's. 'Just like you.'

[northeasternwind]

Théodred leaping into the water to save Boromir only to realize that wait. Boromir once swam half the width of the Anduin in full fucking armor at the age of forty while I live in a fully landlocked country.

Boromir, dragging Théodred onto the shore: who's morosexual now dipshit

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

Still queuing a few pieces of my all time favorite fan art, this one from an all time favorite fan artist, while I’m overseas!

I think back to this one a lot. I’m here for the beauty of my boy Théodred and his braid and golden circlet and his utter look of peaceful happiness and the gut punch of him being gazed at adoringly while surrounded by the little white flowers that foretell his doom. All of that.

Buckle up friends, the brainrot isn't gone yet.

[2x4swrites]

You know, I’m in the bad habit of publishing fics at ridiculous hours of the night 🙄😑

Anyhow, I was thinking about Iron Age post foils (small golden squares stamped with designs + given by guests to their hosts, probably affixed with resin to the support posts within the building) and how these foils would be a much cooler meaning behind “Golden Hall” as a title for Meduseld than a straw roof.

So I wrote an Éomer/Faramir fic about it. (a little under 5k words and very sweet, with a dash of Boromir/Théodred because why not?)

(link in notes)

[borom1r]

ok as per the usual reblogs are off but im gonna tag this like crazy lol

Anyways. hiiiii i FINALLY finished Faramir's route!!!! sooo Faramir is Fully Done, Boromir is abt 2/3 done, Éomer is NEARLY FINISHED like 85% and Théodred is roughly 1/3 done. if you would like to preview the silly LotR text games + provide just. comments i would GREATLY appreciate it, bc we are solidly mired in the "i have been staring at these words for so long that they look Terrible" muck (dw abt grammatical stuff, but if there are any glaring command errors that would be good to know about! Boromir IS missing a 2nd date currently so if it skips you straight from his first to his third date That Is To Be Expected)

EDIT: there is a screwy command that will cause the end of Éomer’s route to lead into Théodred’s, I am aware + this will be fixed in the final game!! there is also a known issue with Faramir’s route missing the opt-out for one of the NSFW scenes

EDIT 2: LINKS HAVE BEEN REMOVED. leaving this up for the feedback in the replies! we’ll see if I can’t get some good work done over the weekend

Date a Gondorian 🪽

Date a Rohir 🐎

@rivers-for-me @theshakespearetrash tagging u both bc you liked the first post i made abt this sjkdfhjksdf

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

A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

[celeluwhenfics]

Just digging this one out because I had an annoying day and I need my Borodred fix

aaah sorry i missed the characters part of the ask entirely. 22 with boromir/theodred?

No worries!!! HAPPY to provide!

A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Théodred’s mouth was hungry and eager on his own, his veins pulsing with the heat of battle. Swords clashing against swords still thundered in Boromir’s ear, but for now, they were alive. The lands about Cair Andros were safe, and for a moment, just a moment, they could have this. 

“Your tent,” Boromir breathed, when Théodred let him, when their lips slid apart, both of them panting, hard armored bodies gripping each other tightly.

Théodred’s eyes flicked up to his, blown with desire. “I can’t wait until then. Give me your mouth.”

Boromir groaned, and his knees started to bend, before a clash of boots sounded suddenly from behind them. He shot up to his feet, heart pounding, and turned to see Faramir, sword clutched in his hand. His brother stared at them for a moment, eyes unreadable, before he asked, “Which of you is hurt?”

“Me,” Boromir answered, at the same time Théodred did.

Faramir blinked. Then, with a statesman’s presence, he said neutrally, “Then I’ll alert the healers. Unless you have, perhaps, quite recovered.”

Boromir made a note to dunk his little brother in Anduin on the way back to the tents.

[celeluwhenfics]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I've just been tagged by @dreambigdreamz (not dreamBUGdreamz), and also I never responded to @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras 's tag last week because my drafts were a mess and I had nothing to show!

Here's a somewhat rough excerpt of the Borodred short that has been bugging me lately.

‘So, that must be why you have such long claws, and only on your right hand! I wondered if it was some kind of Rohanese secret weapon, because I felt them this morning...’ ‘What?!’ ‘When we wrestled. I haven’t had a chance to have a good look yet, but I’m quite sure you left some marks on my back!’ He rolled his shoulder. ‘Heh, yes, I still feel it!’ ‘Oh I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to!’ Théodred was sinking in mortification, but Boromir laughed heartily and clicked his tongue. ‘Tsk, that’s an unfair advantage in hand-to-hand battle!’ They were well matched at sword, and Théodred was the best rider of course, but at wrestling he was overpowered. He tried not to think of how he had felt when Boromir had pinned him down, their legs entangled and his face close above him. ‘You’re welcome to grow your nails as much as you please,’ Théodred grumbled instead. 'Besides, it didn’t keep you from battering me through and through.’ Somehow, he could hear Boromir smile. He saw him fall on his back, and curl his arms around his head to gaze up at the stars. ‘You're welcome, it was my pleasure. Anytime.’

I'm tagging @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras back because she has some interesting stuff coming out soon apparently... and @urban-trek-thru-middle-earth ! And any moot who has some cool stuff they want to show!

[northeasternwind]

please. please someone write the teenaged borodred