#i tried more on his then anduin's

[druidonity2]

Anduin and Wrathion as Red Mages from FFXIV

[renaultmograine]

Looking back, Shadowlands was actually a pretty good expansion for Anduin's character, and I don't mean anything in regards to the emotional trauma he suffered (well, I do a little bit, but thats not the meat n' potatoes of it).

The Sylvanas book states that Anduin had endured the worst torture that the Mawsworn were capable of dishing out and did not break under it (which, well, something like that is really more a question of the length of time endured rather than the intensity of it, but we'll take this at face value). Sylvanas tries to be the good cop to this torture and offers hey, the pain can stop and you can join our crusade willingly, I do have good reasons for this, and she tells him her life story and the entire time Anduin is just eviscerating her for it while still managing to go "I understand how you ended up with this view of the world around you and I'm genuinely sorry this is where your life has led you."

And like, that one cinematic? Of Sylvanas flashing Kingsmourne at Anduin in that One Pose? That was really good. Anduin, stubborn as an ox, goes "I'm not going to make this easy for you. I'm not going to let you soothe your conscience by agreeing with you. If you want me at your side you are going to have to damn me for it," and this is after he learned that Sylvanas sees her dead little brother in him. He full on said to her face "damn the memory of your brother in your pursuit of a universe that permits you to see him in death."

He's such a stubborn character and for once he actually directly faces the consequences of that, something that hasn't really happened since the bell incident, and even then his stubbornness is rather downplayed in that. Him being made to pay for that and the consequences actually affecting him to a serious degree is really interesting for him.

I'm excited for TWW. It's going to be fun to see what Anduin took out of this.

[swampgallows]

dreamed that part of the new wow xpac was about rats like the critters not like the niffen and it was you controlling and interacting with the rats who 'worked for' the nerubians. they explained it like it was a 'rabbit hierarchy' (?) so they (?) the omnipotent narrator in my dream was describing all of the nerubians and rats as 'rabbits'. anyway one of the main jobs the rats did was a 'dorn' which was a rat who stood guard at one of the many holes/burrows in the sides of the buildings which would light up when there was cargo to be delivered. so youd select the 'dorn rabbit' [maybe my brain was thinking "door"mouse but whatever] and then the lit up hole and receive whatever item was being fed through. and since they were rats it was like. pushpins and paperclips and bits of food and stuff. which was cute but you had to stand guard like it was a fulltime job just receiving items. and then theyd go onto this big quilt which hung under a giant crystal (not beledar) that pretty much looked like someone's especially-decorated fridge had thrown up on it.

at one part they show the crystal breaking open and it's like. souls from the maw. ner'zhul??????????? was there and starts talking about his mate (rulkan? ) and then he starts. singing. and it feels like a cinematic now but youre still doing the rat stuff in the background. and then another part of the crystal releases anduin (???????????) who now has a REALLY long black beard which doesnt make any sense. and he is also singing. about his struggles. or something. they slowly get lowered to the ground, which has this rug full of weird rat items and the rats themselves and then the quilt with all the rat treasures on it. then SYLVANAS comes out and she's singing some shit also and looks absolutely awful like they tried to give her ANOTHER redesign and it has like a weird david bowie look going on (like the lightning bolt but it was a star under her cheek) and sylvanas' song is SO bad. she starts making a comparison to herself as a gazelle???? like saying she was prey i guess? to the lion??? and then anduin is singing back like in defiance about how he won't accept her i guess but the lyric he was singing was "I WILL NOT BIRTH YOU, GAZELLE" like over and over. like. why did my brain choose this. then the RATS start ...participating, not like singing per se but they were in view and they were stylized more like looney tunes characters. and reglei was there and he was like "omg these two [pointing to two rats] actually are like really obscure looney tunes characters... do you think theyll get sued for that" and BOGGIE for some reason was there and we were all witnessing this stupid musical/cinematic and boggie said like "this..... is extremely bad"

i walk up to the rug to take a picture (screenshot?) of all the stuff on the rug and was like 'haha looks a little bit like i spy' and was going to attach it to this post but i dreamed the whole thing so i cant. there was more stuff earlier in the dream about my grandparents' house and whatever but none of it's important. also garrosh was not in this dream despite all the other sanctum cameos. weird because i have not done that raid since it was live

[boromirswife]

~ Boromir & Aeroniel Masterpost ~

I already made a masterpost for them, but I wanted a new one so here we are. I wanted to go into a little more detail about the events taking place in these artworks so anyone who is interested can learn about my babies.

All artworks contain links to the original posts made by the artists who I commissioned them from (except in one case, where the art is posted on my own blog), and the artists are also tagged.

My AU is primarily based on The Lord of the Rings film universe, with book details added in — along with some random details from The Lord of the Rings online that I read about on the wiki. The most major changes to the story are that Boromir marries a woman named Aeroniel a few months before leaving Minas Tirith for Rivendell, and that he survives being shot by arrows at Amon Hen. After that, he continues to travel with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

There's not much of a story here, it's just Boromir and Aeroniel being adorable. Amazing artwork by @theoasiswinds 🧡

After learning that his father planned to betroth him to his cousin Lothíriel, Boromir realised the depths of his feelings for Aeroniel. Boromir had long believed that he would never marry, but meeting Aeroniel — and most importantly, imagining a world where he was married to someone who wasn't her — pushed him to finally tell her how he felt about her and ask her to be his wife. Lovely artwork by @murder-me-with-ink ❤️

Soon after Boromir proposed, he and Aeroniel married in secret, with Faramir as their only witness. They knew that Denethor would never approve of Boromir marrying someone who he didn't choose, so they vowed to keep their relationship secret until the time was right. Beautiful artwork by @taisha-san 🩷

Aeroniel didn't want Boromir to leave Minas Tirith and travel to Rivendell, and he didn't wish to leave either. She tried to convince him to not go, and he stayed with her that night, but he had to leave the next morning. Stunning artwork by @kuuniichi 🩵

After the Horn of Gondor washed up on the banks of the Anduin, Faramir visited Aeroniel and informed her that they believed Boromir dead. Weeks later, Boromir returned to Minas Tirith very much alive, and reunited with his darling wife. Gorgeous artwork by @dagnyart 💜

Not long after the end of the war, Aeroniel discovered that she was with child. Months later, while he is out training some soldiers, Boromir was told that his wife had gone into labour. He rushed back home to find that his child — a daughter — had already been born. Though he missed the birth, Boromir was still overjoyed. After so long without hope for the future, here was the manifestation of it bundled up in his arms. Aeroniel suggested that they name her Finduilas, after Boromir's late mother. Another fantastic artwork by @theoasiswinds 💚

Other Posts

Boromir and Aeroniel's children

Some random questions I answered about Boromir and Aeroniel

Boromir and Aeroniel Aesthetic

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 9c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Elrohir asks if Maglor ever wandered far enough south to get completely clear of Sauron's shadow.

Celegorm asks if he would have noticed if he did.

Maglor says yes, as a matter of fact, he did travel that far a few times and did notice.

In fact, he's been farther south than the Númenóreans ever got! Although it was a little hard to tell, since stories of the wicked Westerlings spread south, too.

…Then they have to explain 'Númenóreans (derogatory)' to the Hirnedhrim.

"Have you not heard of this at all? I thought the Dunlendings were still holding grudges about it?"

"Not that anyone told us about."

Risyind mentions that apparently Pelndoru either wasn't paying enough attention to hear about the Númenóreans or else it decided to scrub them from history after the Involution. She's guessing the first one.

(If she didn't have more important things to worry about Sharlinnu would definitely be cranky about the Involution.)

****

Gimli points out they should probably do a demonstration with the Wizard's Clay before it comes time to use it.

…Although the horses wouldn't be very happy about it. Or the oxen. Or Celeborn.

Maglor could probably keep it from bothering the oxen and horses? It's not easy when he doesn't know beforehand what he needs to neutralize…

Celeborn objects to blowing up anything in the Vales of Anduin regardless of who can hear it — though he can see the point about needing a demonstration. Wait until they're north of the mountains?

Okay, but at that point Maglor will also need to keep it from attracting cold-drakes.

…Actually no one knows whether cold-drakes would come towards the sounds of explosions.

****

Over the course of several days—

Ah, geese flying north.

They're doing a lot of landing and taking off for migrators.

…They really should have overtaken us by now.

Are we being tailed by geese?

Gimli was bitten by a goose once.

That's nothing, a couple of the goblin-men of Dunland got mauled by geese, they eventually swore off trying to keep them.

…None of the elves have ever been attacked by geese.

"It's about respecting them."

…Those are… kind of large for geese, actually, aren't they?

Ohhhhhh, those are the Geese of Manwë!

Everyone stops to look at Glorfindel like he's lost his mind.

The what now.

The Geese of Manwë. Like the Eagles of Manwë, but geese.

…

We didn't see them in Eldamar in the Time of the Trees because there weren't a lot of natural bodies of water — apart from the Sea — but once we got rivers in—

What.

—No, one thing at a time, geese.

(Or should it be Geese?)

Glorfindel isn't sure what they want him to say. They're like Eagles, but geese. They aren't as suited to killing things as the Eagles. Their homes are less remote, so you see them more often, in the West. Some of them enter poetry competitions? They're supposed to be banned from both Yavanna's gardens and Aulë's workshops, but, uh, that hasn't really stuck.

"None of that explains why they're following us."

"I… expect they're meant to be helping us?" Glorfindel says. "I'm not sure how, but it must be a good sign?"

"I would have thought Eagles would be more help," Turgon says. "Although I suppose they could arrive later."

Has this flock been living somewhere in Middle-earth all this time? Who knows!

"Those aren't all geese," Legolas says suddenly. "There are two swans. Grey, but swans."

Celegorm immediately turns around and tries to look himself, even though it is a sunny day and he was uncomfortable even before looking at the sky. He is unable to confirm or dispute Legolas's observation.

Several others can confirm it, though.

…Huh. Weird.

…Not really much weirder than the 'there are Geese of Manwë' baseline, though.

****

(That evening after speaking to the party Arwen decides to take a closer look at these 'Geese of Manwë' and mystery swans. She ends up dropping the Orthanc-stone on her foot. It fractures a toe. Arwen swears Aragorn to secrecy.)

****

They're able to keep on the river a long ways, with all the oxen walking and the barges lightly loaded — even past the point where the Anduin is born in the confluence of two smaller rivers. They pick the tributary coming down from the Misty Mountains, since the one from the Grey Mountains splits into two streams halfway there.

It gets un-navigable eventually, but Celeborn doesn't think it's more than a day or two before they would have had to cut north away from the river anyway.

They unload the wagons from the barges, and move the supplies to the wagons. As for the barges themselves — well, they aren't anticipating any cargo on the way back, but it would still make things easier, and they should at least try to return the barges to Arwen. They drag the barges on shore and turn them over, protecting them as much as they can out in the open.

They reorganize the oxen — eight wagons rather than four barges — and continue on.

****

At this point they can all drive the wagons. No one is particularly eager to. (The suspension is not great.) They trade off often.

Celegorm, Turgon, and Sharlinnu have to pick between walking in the daylight, riding in the wagons, or walking around holding a piece of canvas over their heads as a sunshield.

Caution rises as they approach the Gap of Gundabad — not that they weren't alert before, but there hadn't been any expectation of threat.

Gimli grumbles about such a holy place being profaned.

Khitwê points out that Pelnûru scholars' best guess at the former location of Kuynennu — Cuiviénen — is in Dead Empire territory, and even the geography isn't there anymore, so really the dwarves are still ahead!

Elladan: "I thought no one knew where Cuiviénen used to be!"

Khitwê: "They don't know for sure, but there were people who knew how to get to Kuynennu from Pelndoru and back, so even after everything got torn up they could get approximately there…"

Of course they couldn't investigate after the White Empire started up.

Maglor: "…So if Mount Gundabad is full of orcs—"

(Celegorm: "Not that many orcs—")

Maglor, ignoring the interruption: "—And what's left of Cuiviénen has an entire human empire squatting in it… does anyone know what happened to Hildorien?"

No. In fact, there is some skepticism on the Hildorien story generally.

Before they can get into that, Zena asks what exactly they're talking about — it turns out no one has told the Hirnedhrim about the various awakenings. So they have to go over that.

The Hirnedhrim are — not skeptical, exactly, but they have questions. There are things you have to be taught, that you can't just conjure out of nowhere. What was the difference in wisdom between these magically-awakening adults and someone who lived alone in a pit their entire life finally getting out? How did the difference get there?

Zena: "And there must have been a difference, because an entire village full of just-retrieved Usazilas would have… had problems."

Zuste: "It took over a hundred years for the bite-scars to fade."

…

What?

Maglor: "I would argue that being kept in a pit and treated like an animal by the only people you have ever met teaches its own breed of wisdom which is of less than no use in most other situations."

Zena agrees he may be on to something there, but still doesn't think that's sufficient.

Elrohir knows he is not going to like the answer and that possibly he just shouldn't ask, but: "I understand that the Men of Dunland had no love for you, but… why a pit?"

Zena: "They thought it would keep the Fair Orc away from their women if his child was still there. That was why others of our sisters and brothers were tolerated through infancy, at least. These people thought they had found a way to do that which they liked better than keeping an abomination in the house."

Zuste: "They boasted of it. Had been boasting for years before we found out."

Zuste: "We burned that steading to the ground."

She does not say what became of the inhabitants other than Usazila.

Celegorm: nodding approvingly

Turgon: glaring at Celegorm for this improper moral feedback

Risyind: "Well anyway, the tradition of the People of the Pearls is that humans lived underwater until drawn out into the air by the light of the Sun."

Zena: "Interesting!"

Risyind: "My understanding is none of the Pelnûru have ever felt there are any grounds to challenge them on it, since it's not like we know exactly where Men awakened."

Legolas: "No one ever pointed out that Men can't breathe water?"

Risyind: "They are fully aware of that themselves. The stories don't explain anything, but the tradition for a long time was that before the Sun, Men were more like porpoises. More recently, though, there were some philosophers who argued that the stories specifically say drawn to the air by the Sun, and porpoises already have to visit the air regularly, so Men must have been more like some other sort of fish, or maybe octopuses."

Legolas: "Ah, that makes sense."

(Have never heard of an octopus: Legolas, Zuste, Zena, Dyn. Also Whiterot.)

Risyind: "Maybe, but there was some heated discussion. We heard all about it because some of them had to leave town for a while and came to Pelndoru."

Gimli: that doesn't sound right "…The octopuses…?"

(Has never seen an octopus, but has read about them in books written by Dwarves who had also never seen one: Gimli.)

Anyway that discussion gets everyone thoroughly sidetracked, thank you Risyind.

(Have seen one or more octopuses in the course of living by the Sea and/or traveling by ship and/or knowing Círdan: Khitwê, Risyind, Elrohir, Elladan, Sharlinnu, Glorfindel, Maglor.)

(Has seen an octopus after his cousin absolutely insisted he come to Alqualondë and get on a boat and see this new, fascinating creature he just found out about: Turgon.)

(Has seen octopuses and been disappointed when Oromë said he couldn't teach him to understand them: Celegorm.)

(Has seen one or more octopuses in the course of knowing Círdan, but only after spending several centuries thinking Angrod made them up, and unfortunately Círdan told the twins about this: Celeborn.)

(Have eaten octopus: Sharlinnu, Khitwê, not Risyind because she doesn't care what anyone else says, it doesn't look like something you're supposed to eat, shut up Khitwê. Also Maglor, but he doesn't want to talk about it.)

****

Whiterot joins them once they're properly in the Gap of Gundabad. (She is greeted with questions on whether she knows what an octopus is. She does not.)

She goes over the state of things in Gundabad. Most relevantly, no one is likely to attack them. Whiterot does have some healing minor injuries from scuffles, but just usual day-to-day stuff. There's still no leader and no plans to police the gap. They're good.

(Also, some orcs did take Bellow's advice and took off to look for good places to hole up in the Mountains of Angmar, but that's not pertinent at the moment.)

****

They're almost out of the Gap of Gundabad when disaster strikes. Sort of.

Dyn asks Gimli about the case with the three strands of hair, and he explains.

Maglor looks at Celegorm. Celegorm looks at Maglor.

They don't say anything.

—So here is the thing, about the hair.

Asking someone for some of their hair for use in an art or craft project — either directly or as a reference — was not unknown. But it wasn't the sort of thing you'd be soliciting strangers in the street for, either; it was a personal request for a favor and belonged in a personal relationship. Artanis refused the first request because she wasn't inclined to grant Fëanáro any favors, and also she felt Fëanáro held himself too far aloof from the grandchildren of Indis to presume a personal relationship.

That last part was difficult to dispute.

So, Fëanáro had assumed his status as an elder kinsman and as a matchless craftsman would stand in for a personal relationship; Artanis said it didn't. Kind of embarrassing for Fëanáro and awkward all around, but not inappropriate.

There was some familial huffing about how if Artanis didn't respect Fëanáro enough for this maybe her family weren't really Noldor. That sort of thing.

But asking a second time made it weird, even with the clarification that he wished to "study the hair's unique appearance". Artanis made it even clearer that she was not interested in granting a favor to someone who "pretended my family did not exist until he thought I might provide an interesting specimen".

Asking a third time—

Asking a third time was inappropriate. The Arafinwëans all left Tirion for Alqualondë, and Artanis didn't come back for a Tree-year. Finwë didn't reprimand Fëanor, but he did offer to ask Ingwë and Olwë for hair strands himself which Fëanor could study, with the implication that Fëanor could therefore stop making such requests of people who found it upsetting. Nerdanel told Fëanor there were questions on which he needed to accept 'no'.

And Maitimo, Makalaurë, and Tyelkormo, who all had social circles which reached outside Fëanor's most devoted followers, had to deal with a number of friends and acquaintances either attempting to delicately ask "hey wtf is up with your father and hair" or refraining from asking despite really wanting to. And when someone did ask, loyalty required trying to justify Fëanor even though they knew he'd pushed too much.

It was not enjoyable. The last thing they want to do here is deal with someone explaining the whole debacle to Legolas, Gimli, Khitwê, Risyind, Sharlinnu, Whiterot, the Hirnedhrim, and possibly Elladan and Elrohir — and, actually, they aren't 100% sure Celeborn knows already. Just. No.

They say nothing. Elladan and Elrohir are intensely relieved.

(Glorfindel is secretly a little disappointed.)

[periantari]

Of Darkness and Hope

“Come now, is the dream that bad? Please talk to me,” Éowyn gathered Faramir in his arms and willed him to consciousness. Sweat had gathered and Faramir looked disoriented briefly but smiled to see Éowyn next to him. Éowyn placed a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat from his raven hair and stroked Faramir’s back comfortingly.

It was a bad night in which nightmares returned. It was the anniversary of Boromir’s passing and even though Faramir claimed he was alright, he did not speak, was silent the whole day and kept his distance, locking himself in his study during the day and retreating from Éowyn. The night before, he would dream every few hours, and Eowyn tried her hardest to comfort him and have him open up. At first Faramir was withdrawn and Éowyn feared the Black Breath had returned since Faramir was also cool on his shoulder area, but Éowyn had athelas handy and it proved useful to bringing him to the present . Éowyn also made sure there were some warm cloths to warm up Faramir. She took care to make sure Faramir was alright though she knew he would be loath to say he was otherwise.

“Here, have some tea, my dearest.” Éowyn made sure the tea wasn’t too hot to guide it to her husband’s lips. Faramir sat up to receive some of the tea.

“Thank you,” said Faramir quietly. “I am sorry to alarm you, my love.” Faramir’s pulse had returned to normal and his eyes were clearer and not glazed. “Just…dreams…”

“Do you want to talk about your dreams?”

Faramir paused but then said in one breath, “Fire, and blood from the battle, and …Boromir’s corpse… in the middle of the Anduin and i… i… cannot save him.” He leaned into Eowyn and she firmly embraced him. “And my friends…and …father,” Tears gathered once more. He trembled and even though Eowyn had the fire up and burning, it still seemed too cool that February night. The fire only brought snatches of memory of almost being burnt alive. Faramir shivered with the memory once more.

“It is not your fault, please believe me,” said Eowyn, and she kissed him to bring him to the present and drew more blankets for him. “Stay present with me. We are here together. I know you loved Boromir and fellow soldiers. We will do our annual ritual trip to Parth Galen? We will also make sure to write to your friends’ families and see how they are.”

“Yes, that is a good idea- let’s do that tomorrow.” Faramir paused. “I’m sorry, Éowyn.”

“Why are you apologetic? I love you. I fear that it must be that the dark times come forth but we will see each other through,” Éowyn brought a handkerchief for Faramir’s tears. Tears had gathered in Eowyn’s own eyes. Éowyn had suffered dreams herself but hadn’t bothered Faramir about it. Her dark times would come as well in this season of darkness where it marked one year since the destruction of the Ring and the losses that came with it.

She feared to see Faramir this way and hoped he could see how valued and important he was . Aragorn had told Éowyn that he was invaluable as Steward and Prince of Ithilien as well as a dear friend to the king .

“As do I –thank you for being here for me.”

“I would not be with anyone else, and you’re mine to keep safe and happy.” Éowyn tried to keep Faramir’s spirits brighter- he had been so down the past day.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Faramir looked into Eowyn’s eyes in admiration and love. He held onto Eowyn’s hands. He just noticed he had stopped shivering.

“You are the best man of Gondor and Middle-earth and I am the one lucky to have you!” Eowyn kissed Faramir on the lips .

“We are both lucky,” Faramir then folded Éowyn to a huge embrace and kissed her back.

[starspray]

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

#been in a writing slump #maybe this would help kickstart things

have a star! *pulls up a chair and sits down to listen*

Once again, I got the star and I blanked on everything I ever wrote, lol. But I have one thing to say about the last scene in Fair as the First Snowdrop in Spring:

“And what of your future, Elrond?” Gil-galad asked later, as he and Elrond sat in the Hall of Fire. It was otherwise empty—a good place to sit and think, or to have a private conversation. “Have you thought of marriage?” Elrond’s thoughts immediately turned to Celebrían, but he shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “No?” Gil-galad looked at him, one eyebrow arched. The silver ribbons in his braids seemed to glow in the soft light of the low fire. “Not even Lady Celebrían has changed your mind?” “What has Lady Celebrían to do—” “Oh come, Elrond. Perhaps she has not noticed, but anyone who knows you has. You are badly smitten. Don’t tell me you do not plan to speak to her.” “We have only just met,” Elrond said, since denials would get him nowhere. Gil-galad did not roll his eyes, but it seemed a close thing. Elrond tried again—this time feeling himself on firmer ground. “The time is not right.” “What time could be better?” Gil-galad asked. “You have just established yourself the master of your own realm, we have beaten Sauron back—” “But he will rise again,” Elrond said. “The lands south and east of the Anduin are dark to me, as are the coming years, like gazing at a horizon hidden by heavy storm clouds. I do not know when the storm will reach us, only that it will. Until it passes, whatever befalls, I will take no wife.” Gil-galad sighed, all traces of teasing humor gone. “Very well. I will not ask again. But nothing would bring me more pleasure than to stand with you at your wedding, here in Imladris in the spring—whether it is Celebrían or some other deserving lady.” Elrond smiled. “You will be the first to know of it,” he promised.

Okay so the main point of the fic is me finally writing my version of the first meeting between Elrond and Celebrian, because they were on my mind thanks to my other fic White Water Flowing. And the thing one has to decide when writing this pairing is why did Elrond wait so long? They met right after the end of the war with Sauron, after he was chased off to Mordor with his tail between his legs, as Elrond is establishing himself in his own realm of Imladris.

Is he shy? Not really--he's not a shy person, but also he's never been smitten before, and it's thrown him off a bit. Is he intimidated by his potential in-laws? I don't think so. I don't think Elrond is easily intimidated even by Galadriel--and by this point he's pretty close in friendship to Celeborn.

So I settled on foresight--or the lack thereof. When he describes the lands in the southeast being dark to him, I was thinking of when he says in FOTR that all the lands east of the Misty Mountains are hidden from him (or something to that effect--I'm paraphrasing from memory). The War of the Last Alliance is in this fic much what the War of the Ring is in LOTR.

And to that point--Elrond's decision to take no wife at all is a deliberate echo of his...what's the word. Not an order, exactly. And admonition? Prophecy? Idk. Anyway what he says to Aragorn after word gets back to him that Aragorn has fallen in love with Arwen (and I am going to get the quote for this):

Aragorn, Arathorn's son, Lord of the Dunedain, listen to me! A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin. Many years of trial lie before you. You shall neither have wife, nor bind any woman to you in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it.

I'm not putting Elrond's decision to delay marriage on the same level as Aragorn's fate--Aragorn has the fate of a whole people in his hands, and Elrond's choices are much more personal--but I wanted this to be something Elrond would not ask of someone like Aragorn without having done something similar himself. Marrying someone, much less Arwen, would have hindered Aragorn in his travels and in taking the risks that he needed to take, and similarly I think Elrond feels that marrying Celebrian too soon would hamper his own ability for potential risks and sacrifices (remember, he stands by Gil-galad along with Cirdan during that last fight against Sauron). When he marches to Mordor at the end of the Second Age, he is not necessarily certain he'll come back.

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter One

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

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

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Boromir 

Warnings: Pining  

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.4k

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Previous chapters can be found here.

Rivendell 

Some people found peace and comfort in silence.

Boromir, however, was not one of those people. Quiet unnerved him. The only time he didn't mind it was when he tried to sleep. Although since leaving Minas Tirith, sleep only came through sheer exhaustion. And even that was a battle far more often than not. 

He stood out in the dappled golden sunlight filtering down through the red and gold leaves overhead. A warm breeze rustled those leaves, sent them sifting about to settle against the pale cobblestones lining the walkway. The quiet unnerved him, but he couldn't deny the view around him was breathtaking.

Still, beautiful as it was, there was somewhere else he’d much rather be. Without thinking, he reached up to the hollow at the base of his throat. Just below it, lay the medallion Gabby had fastened around his neck, warm from resting against his skin and he managed a smile as he brushed a thumb over it. He missed her. He wanted to kick himself for taking so bloody long to finally give in to the urge to kiss her, for it had plagued him for longer than he cared to think about. 

Gabby was one of the most important people in his life and he’d been terrified of jeopardizing that by being too forward with her, but in all honesty, he’d been thinking about her in ways one should never think of their dearest friend for far longer than he hadn’t. He’d managed to hide it from her, but as they made their way back toward her family’s tavern, knowing where he’d been summoned to and why, the time had come to take the chance. Despite what he’d told her, he wasn't at all certain he would ever see Minas Tirith, or her, again. War had come, and the likelihood that his own days were numbered as a result, were enough to give him the courage he needed where Gabby was concerned. 

Promise me.

It went back to childhood. They’d met when he’d come to the stables and found one of the horses missing from its stall. He’d almost given up his search for the animal when he spied it down near the banks of the Anduin. And with it, was what he’d first thought to be a small child.

As he drew closer, he saw she was no child at all, but closer to his own age, which was sixteen, and when she looked up at him, he’d nearly toppled right out of his saddle. Although he’d noticed the girls in Minas Tirith, he was far too busy to do anything beyond look. Much had been expected of him and of his younger brother, and it was his duty to see to it that he and Faramir were not late for lessons, or for training or for anything they were supposed to be doing. 

But then he saw her and for a moment, he couldn't even remember his own name. 

She stood just barely meeting the horse’s shoulder, her long blonde hair almost white in appearance, neatly woven in a single plait that hung almost to her hips. She nuzzled the horse, pet its nose and then turned to say, “I believe her to be one of yours. Have you lost one?”

“Lost one? No, our groom is not so incompetent as to lose a horse.” He swung from his saddle, one hand on the handle of his sword as he strode toward her. The steel sang softly when he drew it. “So, do not think to lie to me.”

Up close, the girl was even prettier than he’d thought. Her eyes were the most unusual he’d ever seen—the dark gray of thunderclouds—and she did not flinch as he approached. Not even as he held the blade out toward her. “So, tell me the truth,” he went on, “did you steal one of the Steward’s horses?”

Those eyes remained locked with his. “I am no thief. I was already down here and heard a crashing sound. I turned about to see this pretty girl running as if Sauron himself chased her. She stopped at the water over there—” she pointed over her shoulder upriver—“and I went to check on her. I think she threw a shoe.”

“And how do I know you do not lie?”

“Why would I lie? As I said, I am no thief and you are not about to run me through, so do put that blade away before one of us gets hurt.”

“I know you.” He re-sheathed the sword, both hands resting on the pommel now. “You’re the barkeep’s daughter.”

“And you are the son of Denethor. And now that we’ve got that straight, you should probably see your horses home and have her hoof looked at.”

He bit back a smile. “You truly wish me to believe your tale is true, don’t you?”

“It’s up to you whether or not you believe me. I know my words are true. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be getting home. My father will worry if I’m late for supper and my mother will drive him mad with her own worry as well and it’s always best to avoid that if possible.”

As she moved to step around him, the sudden urge to make sure that did not happen shot through him. “Wait,” he stepped into her path, “what is your name, barkeep’s daughter?”

“Gabby.”

“Well, Gabby, I could use a bit of help bringing both back. Can you ride?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I’ve not tried.”

He glanced at the horse. No saddle. No bit or bridle. A sigh rose to his lips. “Would you be willing to try?” He turned back to her. “Please?”

She held his gaze for a long, almost uncomfortable moment, then nodded. “Because you said please. Although, I might end up landing on my arse for my trouble.”

He bit back a smile. “If you do, I won’t tell a soul.” 

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he saw a glint in those odd gray eyes. “Promise me you won’t.”

“I promise you.”

She managed to get up onto the bareback horse with only a boost from him and had no trouble remaining mounted. By the time they reached the stables, Boromir felt as if he’d known her forever. Before they parted ways, he turned to her and said, “I’m Boromir, by the way.”

“I know. Son of Denethor. Heir to the Stewardship of Gondor. I am well aware of who you are.” She paused by the door to the tack room. Then, she offered up a winsome smile. “But, I like you just the same, Boromir.”

And it was at that moment he’d lost his heart to her. He’d never said anything, of course. But he had. Even now, so many years later, he could recall every detail about that meeting, down to the way the sunlight shone along her white-blonde hair and how he always knew she was happy because her eyes were pewter when everything was right in her world and a stormy silver when she was angry or upset.  

More than once, his father dropped not so subtle hints about him marrying. He’d managed to sidestep the issue most of the time, but the more he thought about it, the more he’d come to the conclusion that there was only one woman he would even consider and while his father didn't object to his friendship with Gabby, Boromir wasn't exactly certain Denethor would be overly happy with the tavern keeper’s daughter as his son’s bride, either. 

But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Besides, he didn't even know if she would have him. He half-expected her to punch him when he’d kissed her, since she’d given no indication of having those same feelings for him that he had for her. 

“Welcome.”

He spun about to see an unfamiliar elf with long, straight dark hair, high and pointed cheekbones, and wide dark eyes sweep down a curved marble staircase toward him. “Thank you. Am I the first to arrive?”

“You are, actually. I am Lindir and welcome to Rivendell. My lord Elrond is in his chambers, but has sent me to show you to your chambers where you might freshen up. So, if you will come with me.”

“Of course. And my horse?”

“Will be tended to and stabled here, of course. You need not worry, Master Boromir. He will be looked after until your return.”

“My retu—” The words died on his lips as Lindir didn't wait for him, but turned and started back up the wide staircase. 

He hurried up after the elf. “How many were summoned?”

“I cannot answer that,” Lindir replied evenly. His voice showed no emotion of any sort, but remained melodic in its even tones just the same. 

At the top of the staircase, Boromir looked about, very much aware of the elven stares boring into him as he passed by. They were all so alike—tall and slender, dark haired, dark eyed, stunningly attractive. One elf maid blushed and dipped her gaze as he met it and he bit back a chuckle. She was pretty enough, but she couldn’t hold a candle to his Gabby.

Lindir led him into the palace of the elven king Elrond, down a long and winding corridor, to a spacious room overlooking a peaceful pasture. “I will return when the others arrive. It shouldn’t be too long, now.”

“Thank you.” Boromir bobbed his head. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t. And again, thank you.”

With that, Lindir took his leave and Boromir wandered out onto the terrace. In the distance, he could see horses meandering about. Everything about Rivendell was peaceful and quiet and serene.

And unnerving.

He sighed, sinking onto the edge of the low marble wall, and leaned back against a white marble pillar inlaid with gold in intricate designs. The journey from Minas Tirith to Rivendell had been a long one, with him pushing his horse through the night to reach the palace as quickly as he could. Roads were no longer safe, especially after dark, when orcs could move freely about. Fortunately, he’d not crossed paths with any. He considered it a good omen. 

From where he sat, he could see a white escritoire tucked into the alcove in his room. For a moment, he thought about sitting and penning Gabby a letter, but she would never believe it to be from him. He was not a man of words but one of action and what he couldn't say, he would show her when he saw her.

But at the same time, the need to let her know how he felt… just in case… it went so much deeper than any kiss could possibly convey. Although, he could probably speak more clearly through touch than he could words.

Still… 

With a sigh, he rose, his boots thudding softly against the marble as he crossed back into the room and over to the escritoire. The top drawer held elegant ivory stationary embossed with blue and gold elven designs. A pen carved of a swan’s feather stood in the inkwell. He grinned as he plucked it from the inkwell. It looked far too comical in his hand.

“I wouldn’t know what to write,” he muttered, sinking the pen back where he’d found it. He stared at it for a long moment, then, with gusty sigh, snagged it once more and settled down to write. 

The one thing that stood about Rivendell was how quiet it was, no matter where he was. Boromir gazed at the mural along the wall, not far from one of the many gardens. It was almost eerie in its silence, a shrine of sorts, and from the corner of his eye, he saw, on a pedestal to his right, the remains of a broken sword.

“The shards of Narsil,” he murmured, lifting it by handle. “The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand.”

As he spoke, he brought it closer, and let out a hiss of pain as it sliced into his forefinger and blood bubbled along the cut. “It’s still sharp.”

It was then he realized someone else was in the hall with him, in a quiet corner behind him. The man’s face was somewhat familiar, but Boromir couldn’t place him. The man said nothing, but just watched him with steely blue eyes, his expression neutral.

A hint of idiocy swirled through Boromir, with irritation on it heels. He moved to toss the sword piece back where it had lain. “But no more than a broken heirloom.”

Unfortunately, as he moved away, the sword clattered from its resting place to the stone floor. Heat swirled through him, but he refused to go back and pick it up or face the man in the corner. Why make a greater fool of himself already? Besides, he’d already been summoned to Elrond’s terrace and he dreaded it as much as he just wished to get it over with. 

Twilight made the sky look almost purple and as he crossed the courtyard on his way to the meeting, he paused, looking up as a star shot across that purple sky. Just as he’d done as a boy, he closed his eyes for a moment and indulged in a bit of fantasy that went back to that innocent time.

He cast a wish upon that star.

***

“Where are you?”

Gabriella jumped at Dory’s whisper. Jumped and spun around to glare at her. “Must you sneak up on me that way?”

“Sneak up? Gab, I was talking to you the entire time. Where are you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she replied, pushing away from the bar. “Did you need me for something?”

“No. You just looked… wistful.” Dory propped an elbow against the leather padding around the bar’s edge. “What’s going on?”

Gabriella looked about. The tavern was almost empty at nearly five in the afternoon. Once, that would have been a surprise, but lately? It was becoming more and more common as people were evacuated from the city. Her father had been talking about their going as well, but Gabriella didn't want to leave. She wanted to be there when Boromir came home, wanted to be with everyone welcoming him back. 

The war came closer with each day. Men hurried about to fortify the city, to man the towers and keep watchful eyes over the encroaching darkness. It seemed as if the whole of Minas Tirith held its breath, waiting either to exhale or suffocate.

“Gab?”

She jumped again. “Sorry. I—my mind just keeps wandering. Come, Papa won’t mind if we slip out back. There’s no one here, anyway.”

Concern filled Dory’s dark eyes as she nodded and let Gabriella lead her through the kitchens, which were closed today, and out into the yard behind the tavern. In the distance, a low rumbling could be heard off and on. The sounds of war. She tried not to notice how they grew louder each day. 

“I’ve not been sleeping well,” she said without preamble, sinking onto the low wall ringing the rear yard.

“Why?”

“I worry about him.”

“Boromir?” Dory waited for her to nod, then said, “Have you heard from him at all?”

“I’ve not, no. And I don't expect to, either. Which only makes it more difficult to not worry.” She wiped her hands along the front of her trousers. “I don't even know if he’s reached there or if something terrible has befallen him, and I have no way of knowing.”

“All you can do is hope for the best, then, I suppose.”

“Which is nearly impossible.” Gabriella exhaled hard, sending a loose lock of hair fluttering away from her face. He’d left weeks ago and for one who’d never been beyond the city walls, she had no clue as to how long it might take to go from there to Rivendell. She knew not what perils lay in his path, what unsavory sorts he might have crossed paths with, nothing. 

Her heart ached with missing him. She barely ate. Hardly slept. And with the city growing more sparsely populated by the day, there was little to distract her, and even less with each passing hour, it seemed.

“Mother says she wants us to join the others, to go south where we might be safe.”

Gabriella nodded, staring off at the sun sinking low in the western sky, streaking it coral and gold and purple. She smiled as a shooting star swept across the darkness, and for a moment, considered wishing upon it, but at the same time, what she wished for was most likely beyond the capability of a childhood game. With a soft sigh, she glanced at Dory. “Mama has been saying the same to Papa, and he argued at first, but now, I think he wishes to go as well.”

“Are you leaving?”

Gabriella shook her head. “No. I want to be here when he comes home.”

“Gab, you know it’s a pipe dream. You and the steward’s heir? Denethor will never allow it.”

“I care not,” Gabriella told her softly. “And I don't know that Boromir will, either.”

“You also don't know if he is thinking along the same lines as you.” Dory sank onto the wall alongside her. “What if he thinks you are but friends alone? I’ve heard rumors that someone else has set her cap for him as well.”

“Ava, right?” Gabriella snorted. “She chases every eligible bachelor over the age of fifteen, though. Besides, I am fairly certain I know how he feels.”

Dory’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I gave him my bear charm.”

“You did what?”

She nodded. “The morning he left. He kissed me, Dor. Kissed me and told me he’d be back.”

“And you are only just telling me now?”

“When have I had any other chance? Papa hovers over me and Mama is no better. They will not be happy when I tell them I’m not leaving.”

“Wait, let’s get back to this kiss, Gab. When? Where? How was it? Was it good? Please tell me he is a good kisser! I couldn't stand it if he wasn’t!”

Gabriella laughed in spite of herself. “Calm down, before you go into apoplexy, Dory!”

“I cannot believe you didn't tell me this before. He left weeks ago.”

“Don't remind me.” 

“So?”

“Very well… we were walking back up here, from the pasture, and I’d asked him if he couldn't just reconsider and stay here. He said no, he couldn’t, but he’d be back because he had a very good reason, and when I said it was because he was Denethor’s heir, he told me that wasn't the reason. And then he kissed me.”

Dory’s eyes went almost completely round. “I should punch you for not telling me this, you know.”

“I’ve just rather kept it tucked away for me.”

“But, how was it?”

“It was every bit as wonderful as you’d imagine.”

“Did it tickle? I mean, the beard and all?” Dory gestured around her own lips.

“A bit. At first. But then it didn’t. Then, it was simply wonderful.”

“Ava will stew in her own jealousy.”

“We are not telling her.”

Dory pouted. “That wouldn’t be fun, would it?”

“Dor.”

“Gab.”

“I mean it.”

“Oh, fine.” Dory let out a heavy sigh, as if terribly put out by the thought of having to keep it to herself. Then, she nudged Gabriella with her shoulder. “I think you and him will have the most beautiful babies and I cannot wait to be their aunty!”

Gabriella couldn’t hold back her laugh. “You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, don’t you think? It was only a few kisses, Dory. And I am fairly certain there needs to be more than few kisses for there to be any babies.”

“Well, it’s a start.” Dory’s smile widened and she wiggled her eyebrows. “And I definitely want details when he finally takes you to bed. All of them.”

“Dory!”

“What? I do. I imagine it will be beyond amazing with him.”

“You’re incorrigible, do you know that?”

“Why?” Dory nudged her with her shoulder. “He just looks the sort, you know?”

“The sort?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “the sort of man who just knows what to do and how to do it and will not be happy until he’s made your eyes cross and your heart threaten to leap right out of your chest. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re mad, is what you are. And why are you even thinking about him that way?”

“Because we all think about him that way. Him and his brother. Two finer-looking men do not exist. But don't worry. I know Boromir’s yours, so hands off. But, Faramir is a different story, so put in a good word for me, if you’d be so kind. We can have a double wedding.”

“Dory!”

“What?”

“You’re mad. You really are.”

“I know. And that is why we’re friends.”

They both gave into their laughter at that point and Gabriella leaned her head against Dory’s shoulder. “I will give you details, if it happens.”

“It will. You’ll see. And then he will fall to his knees and beg you to be his wife, saying he’ll turn to dust and die if you say no and then you’ll say yes, but only if his brother agrees to be mine as well and then we’ll all live happily ever after trying to outdo one another with how many children we have.”

“Oh, that sounds exhausting.”

“I know, it does. But, most likely worth the exhaustion. And besides, Boromir will be the steward. You’ll have nannies galore.”

“I’ll loan you one.”

“Good. Faramir is but a second son, you know. Not nearly as many perks.”

“Dory!” 

They burst out laughing once more, but it didn't last as a long, loud rumble rolled across the air and the laughter died as Dory whispered, “It’s coming closer. The fighting, I mean.”

“I know. It won’t be long before it’s at our front door.”

As if he heard them , Gabriella’s father poked his head out the kitchen door. “Time to head home, Gabriella. There is no sense in remaining open and your mother and I wish a word with you.”

Her stomach knotting, she rose. “Yes, Papa.”

“Good night, Mister Agnar. I’ll see you tomorrow, Gab,” Dory told her, grabbing her hand to give a quick squeeze. Then she was gone, setting off along the path that wound from the back yard gate toward where Dory’s family made their home.

Gabriella turned to her father. In the weeks since the war noises grew louder, he’d aged before her eyes. More silver peppered his once-jet black hair and there were far more lines about his eyes and mouth now. Just as she had trouble sleeping these days, so did he. The creak of the floorboards betrayed him as night after night, he paced about the room he and Gabriella’s mother shared. They shared a wall, so she often heard them speaking in low voices to one another. No doubt planning for the time when they’d be forced to flee their home, to take refuge in one of the villages in the south, where Sauron’s armies hadn’t reached just yet. 

Another low rumble rent the air and she looked up at her father. “Papa, I know what you wish to speak to me about, but you should know, I do not wish to leave, nor do I plan on leaving.”

“It is not safe to remain here.” He stopped, coming about to face her. He caught her by the shoulders and crouch to meet her eyes. “You need to come with us.”

“Papa, no,” she drew in a deep breath, “I need to remain here.”

He just stared at her for a long moment. “The steward’s son?”

She nodded. “I want to be here when he returns.”

“So, he knows how you feel, then?”

“He knows I care for him, yes.”

“Does he know how much?”

She smiled. “I cannot say for certain. But, I made him promise to come home and I will be here when he does.”

“Gabby… what if he does not return. You do not know that he will—”

Her throat tightened and she shook her head as she cut him off. “No, Papa. He will come home. I will be fine here. I can wield a sword and the finest warriors in all of Middle Earth are here, protecting the city. I can also help if they need a nurse or a cook or even just a serving girl. I will be fine. I promise.”

His dark gray eyes, so much like her own, reddened. “If something should happen to you, because of your stubbornness…”

She caught his hands in hers. “You and Mama can go. I can run the tavern as long as necessary. But you go. I will be fine. I promise you, I will.”

“My little girl… I cannot leave you.”

“I am a little girl no more, Papa,” she reminded him gently. “And when this is all over, we will have so much to look forward to.”

“You think the Steward of Gondor will approve the match of you with his son and heir?”

“I have no reason to think otherwise. He knows me. He’s not forbidden me to spend time with Boromir. Has not forbid Boromir to see me.”

“There is a great different between childhood friends and husband and wife, though.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” She gave his wrinkled hands a gentle squeeze. “But I think he will approve. That is, if Boromir wishes to marry me.”

“He would be a fool if he didn’t.”

She smiled. “Come. It will take me a most of tonight to convince Mama. She is not so easily swayed as you are.”

“Her daughter is very much the same way.”

“I think she’d say I took after you, just as she always does when I do something she finds exasperating.”

[scourge-lover]

Arthas Timeline, from Paladin to Lich King

 A friend asked me to summarize Arthas’s induction as a paladin all the way to his defeat as Lich King in a more convienent way than the wiki, so I decided to oblige them. It’s kind of fun summarizing it in my own words mostly! 

This first part is when Arthas becomes a Paladin, to when he becomes a deathknight. More Parts to Follow. 

Part One

At 19 years old, Arthas went to Stormwind to become a Knight of the Silverhand. This is when he met baby Anduin. Sometime after is when he saw Thrall in Durnholde Keep still as a gladiator. After, Invincible suffered the fatal accident and Arthas had to put him down. Arthas visited Dalaran and spent time with Jaina. This went on for some time, and Arthas invited Jaina to Lordaeron to celebrate both NobleGarden and Hallow's End. Their relationship basically became public at that point. They slept together during Hallow's End. For the Winter Veil Party, Arthas realized things were moving too fast and ended the relationship. Arthas was one of the jurors during Tirion's trial that ended in the old paladin's excommunication and exile. Orcs started to break free from the internment camps and Arthas went to Strahnbrad with Uther to defend the town from raiding orcs. This is when Arthas killed the black dragon Searinox. They defeated the blackrock clan leader who was leading the raids. A plague started to effect Lordaeron and there is official confirmation that Arthas is 24 years old at this time. Jaina comes to join him because the Archmage thinks the plague is magical in nature. They discover undead and an infested granary which lead them to Brill and Kel'thuzad, whom they pursue to Andorhal. Andorhal's grain is discovered to have been already shipped out to outer villages. This is where Arthas kills Kelthuzad but not before he is warned about the dreadlord leading the Scourge, Mal'ganis. They stop at Hearthglen to rest, but there is news of undead coming. Jaina leaves to warn Uther and bring back help. Arthas discovers the villagers of Hearthglen have eaten infected grain and are directly turning into undead. Arthas and his forces barely hang on until Uther comes to save them. Arthas travels to Stratholme and meets Medivh, who fails to convince Arthas to leave Lordaeron to the undead and go to Kalimdor. Jaina had been following him and tries to tell him that Medivh might be right, but Arthas ignores her advice, determined to defend his home and people. Stratholme's grain has already been distributed and baked for the townspeople to consume. Uther catches up in time for Arthas to order a purge of the entire city. Uther refuses and Arthas strips him of command. Uther and Jaina leave Arthas. After killing some of the people of Stratholme, Mal'ganis shows himself and vows to meet in Northrend, spurring Arthas to chase after him. Arthas burns Stratholme and takes the royal fleet, but not before meeting with Jaina one more time and ignoring her warnings. Arthas and his men leave to Northrend, landing in Daggercap Bay. They look for a place to set up base and are attacked by Muradin Bronzebeard's explorer expedition. He tells Arthas they were looking for a rare artifact called Frostmourne when they were attacked by undead. They join forces and start searrching for any signs of Mal'ganis An emmissary comes via Zeppelin and tell Arthas's men they have been ordered to return home. The men are happy to abandon their posts and head through the forests to the ships to go home. Arthas is furious when he gets back, and they are gone. He goes and finds some mercenaries to hire and manage to reach the ships first. Then he sents fire to them but when the men finally reach the ships, they are upset. So, Arthas accuses the mercenaries of burning the ships and lets the men kill the mercenaries, much to Muradin's disgust. The only way they were leaving, Arthas said, was when they were victorious. They continue to search for Mal'ganis, who taunts Arthas about his impending death and has the undead attack the base. Muradin and Arthas leave in desperation to find Frostmourne. They manage to track it down and the Guardian attacks them not to protect the blade from them, but to protect them from the blade. They reach Frostmourne and after reading the inscription at the pedestal, realizes its cursed but Arthas declares he'll suffer any curse to protect Lordaeron and asks for the sword to be released. The ice breaks and a piece hits Muradin in the head, knocking him unconscious but Arthas assumes he is dead. He leaves with Frostmourne in hand. He easily defeats Mal'gani's army and the dreadlord himself who is shocked when Arthas tells him the Lich King is instructing Arthas to kill him. Afterwards, Arthas leaves his men and runs off into the wilderness, but later the men search for him one by one. Falric and Marwyn are killed first, and then Thassarian, and then the rest of them.

[wrynnunrecorded]

@blue-eyed-banshee

Jerek was getting accustomed to this. And everything was in walking distance, at least.

Technically, he tended the Faire's animals, but in reality he spent more time patching up people. He got a little sum of gold every two weeks-- honestly, he was surprised it wasn't weekly-- just enough to cover a little fun. Nothing too luxurious.

Nothing that would raise suspicion.

It was all greasy, crunchy carnival food, and colorful language. A few friends grew a little too friendly, and he'd had to disappoint them: no, he really did prefer to drink alone.

One night, putting away his kit and smearing the black tracks from his forehead, Jerek felt a chill he'd never felt before... never as Jerek, anyway.

He tried to hide it, but a shiver ran down his spine. Of all the people to find him. Of all the people to track him down--

Anduin let out a careful, quiet breath, and muttered: "I don't suppose you'll be telling Genn about this."

[wolf-of-stormwind]

The Ship question all the #3s

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

An'oradin: Not really, as they got extremely close during MoP, the faction war was going strong, and Varian nearly had her jailed when she kept breaking in to visit Anduin after he was crushed by the divine bell. While not blood, Lor'themar IS very much a father to her, and he was extremely hesitant to even let them near each other. The only one who did want them to shut up and just kiss already was Wrathion

What was their first kiss like?

An’oradin: They had snuck into the keep's garden at night when no one was around, as An'ora was technically trespassing, and they had been cuddled underneath the tree, and as funny as it is, is was an accident. An'ora had accidently gotten pretty close to his face and when he turned to look at her, it kinda just happened. They were shocked at first, and then after a bit hesitantly tried again

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Anduin 100%, An'ora is VERY easily flustered and he adores making her blush.

and also theyre just hilarious to him

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Around the time shortly before shadowlands prepatch An'ora gets pregnant, but sadly loses the child.

Later down the road, they end up having two kids later down the road. Their first daughter is named Kaelan Varinia, who they (at first hesitantly) named after Kael'thas and (much less hesitantly) Varian. They have two more pregnancies later on, but she loses them both before finally having one more child who was born extremely premature but managed to survive (who i havent named yet)

An'ora's struggles with the first one is because she was in the realms of death.

Aside from that, havent decided much of their personalities

EDIT: I also believe it has been stated that half-elves rarely survive to birth in one of the warcraft books, but i am not sure which.

[druidonity2]

Jaina of the blue flight and Varian of the black flight

[jerek]

tww wrathion thoughts

pre-legion (and honestly pre-8.3 in bfa) there were a lot of takes centered around wrathion's vision for the future of azeroth. it was a lot of 'he predicted this' and 'he prepared us for this' and 'why isn't he here for this.'

And they were all valid points, of course!! Especially in Legion, because our first indication that Legion was going to happen was HIS vision of a future demonic invasion back in Mists of Pandaria.

But I was thinking about what content he DOES appear in post-MoP, and there's a bit of a worrying trend.

Wrathion tries to protect Azeroth during Cata. We never see anyone question the necessity of dispatching black dragons at this time (not even Fahrad, who barely offers resistance without the influence of the Old Gods.) By the standards of Azeroth's people, he succeeds.

In Mists of Pandaria, Wrathion tries to protect Azeroth...

And by the standards of Azeroth's people, fails.

Varian jumps off a fel reaver into a horde of demons and rushes headlong with an alpha_roar.mp3 into his own death. RIP 37 year old minor I can't believe Wrathion would do this. High king indeed.

Consider Wrathion's cameo in Admiral Taylor's garrison log. Admiral Taylor starts a garrison in Spires of Arak during WoD, and by day 12 Wrathion turns up and gets put under house arrest.

On day 15, a shipment of resources arrives as a gift from Wrathion, who also warns Taylor about the local creepy warlock Ephial. Taylor "doesn't trust either of them."

On day 27, Taylor returns from a trip to the Ring of Blood to find that Ephial's taken over his garrison, and loses his life trying to take it back.

So Wrathion, in Warlords of Draenor, as a fugitive from the Alliance, is still trying to protect the people who drew guns on sight of him at day 12.

The standards drop lower in BfA (Chromie also treats him with imo unnecessary suspicion during the Deaths of Chromie scenario in Legion but that's pretty minor) with Anduin punching him on sight.

"My father is dead because of you."

My brother in the Light your father is dead because he has been waiting for a chance to give up his crown since Jaina dragged him kicking and screaming back from the arena.

But seriously. This is really rich coming from someone whose only political move while at a semi-comparable age was 'I think kids should read more.' Anduin never tried to change the world at that age because he had people who cared enough to tell him it wasn't his job. He might still be waiting around for a uwu thick dwarf dommy gf if he didn't get such a high off lording his 13 years of life experience and political education over Wrathion's head.

Everyone else is born gay: for Anduin, it really is a symptom of sexual dysfunction. Just think: not even Wrathion could keep him away from Garrosh.

Back to illustrating the trend. What else does Wrathion do in BfA?

Well, we find him having brewed an anti-Old God potion. We also find him eager to apologize for past mistakes, take accountability, and in his own words, 'let his actions speak for him.'

When we enter Ny'alotha, it's Wrathion who guards our sanity.

So far, Wrathion's underlying motivations have always been the defense of Azeroth. Whether he succeeds or fails, his ends remain the same.

Now: what about Dragonflight?

"The legacy of my flight." "I will save what matters most to mine." "Claiming the Obsidian Citadel."

Granted, he does mention "defending all of the Dragon Isles."

But where's his passion for Azeroth? Do we really believe Wrathion would be 'at home' cooped up in a citadel full of people he's never met before, with smog choking the sky and blotting out all the stars? Do we really think Wrathion has more of a familial bond with Ebyssian, let alone Sabellian, than with Left and Right?

The ultimate insult to any character (ask Garrosh fans) is to revoke their identity for the sake of someone else's story.

Khaz Algar is going to be full of Titan secrets and lost peoples.

And, unfortunately, I'm not confident that Wrathion will be there... because I'm not confident they'll give him screentime without a chance to 'humble' him.

Where's the runestone enthusiast? Where's the mogu historian? Where's the master weaponsmith, the enchanter who imbued those legendary cloaks? Is he entirely eclipsed by the fugitive?

I want him to see the sun-gem in Hallowfall. I want to hear him laugh. I want to hear him stumble over words he didn't mean to say aloud. When Blizzard says he's arrogant, and he only cares about himself, they forget how many people genuinely loved him before Anduin swung that fist.

[emyn-arnens]

2 and 16 for Aragorn and Faramir?

If you're not comfortable with these characters lmk, I'll suggest others :)

2. Love

“By your leave,” said Aragorn, “I would have your father’s ashes collected from the House of the Stewards, where they have lain untouched since the day of the battle, and have them entombed within marble, as the Stewards before him, for he should receive the honor of burial and remembrance, though I fear he shall be remembered by his people only for his dying deeds.

“But with your permission, I would end the custom of building tombs and houses for the dead that are fairer than the houses of the living, and I would ask that he be buried in a simple house of stone, as will I and all the kings and lords who follow after me.”

“You have my permission,” said Faramir, “but I would ask one thing of you—that the arms and gear that my brother left in his rooms when he undertook his journey to Rivendell might be placed in a tomb next to my father’s, for Boromir was loved and revered by the people of the city, and I would have some piece of his memory remain here, though his body has passed over the waters of the Anduin and into the sea.”

Aragorn smiled and said gently, “We shall do that for him and more, for he was a brother greatly loved. It is custom, I have heard, for the horns and bells of the Citadel to toll the news of a lord’s death, and as Boromir has not yet received that honor, I would give you and the people of the city the chance to properly mourn him, as you have not been able to.”

16. Questioning

Dusk fell upon Minas Tirith in a soft mantle as Aragorn and Faramir walked among the gardens of the Houses of Healing, the silence stirred only by the splashing of the nearby fountain and the mournful calls of nightingales.

“Merry told me that you were the last to see my brother alive,” said Faramir, his voice quiet, “and every hour since I heard the distant cry of his horn and since I beheld his body pass by me and continue down the Anduin, I have longed to know of his final moments, and what he might have spoken as the light faded from his eyes.”

Aragorn was silent for a long moment, and then at last he said, “I have long kept Boromir’s last words a secret, revealing them to none so that his honor and memory might be untarnished, for he was a valiant man, and his death was honorable—but you are his kin and should know of what occurred during the hour of his death: Boromir revealed to me that he had tried to take the Ring from Frodo and bitterly regretted it, and he charged me to go to Minas Tirith and save our people, since he had failed—that was what he said to me.”

“It is as I guessed,” said Faramir, “for Frodo revealed to me that he and Boromir did not part as friends, and that Boromir had sought to take the Ring from him and bring it here to the city; it was a bitter fate that befell him that day, and bitter were his last words.”

Pausing, Aragorn turned and clasped Faramir’s forearm and said, “Boromir died having conquered his folly, and so I told him to bring him peace in his passing, and he understood and was comforted, both in that and in the knowledge that I would not let this city fall—and so I tell you: Boromir did not die in dishonor, nor did he die in vain, and because of his valor, the Uruks spared Merry and Pippin, and the Quest was saved, and Minas Tirith still stands.”

Send me a number and two characters and get a five-sentence drabble.

[trahald-the-burrower]

Young Sméagol (and Déagol) behind the scenes

Andy Serkis: Ngila came up with the idea of tying Sméagol's clothes into the fishing culture of the Stoor hobbits, as they were water folk who lived and worked the River Anduin and the Gladden Fields. An oiled canvas smock and heavy-duty tweed pants were brought out and tried on. A rope belt was added, and it began to feel like it was coming together. Andy Serkis: I was interested in trying to define Gollum's class and status in the community, and had thought that, coming from the wealthiest and largest Stoor family, he would probably never have really worked a day in his life. He probably skipped school and spent time squandering money he had stolen from his grandmother's purse. It was a matriarchy and his grandmother was the head of the family, so I wondered how we might reflect this. We decided that some sort of neckerchief, maybe maybe of silk and a little flamboyant, might be a good idea. I liked the idea of carrying through the drug-addict metaphor, implying that he was like a young rich kid who had always had money in his pocket and was able to experiment with whatever took his fancy, like a Middle-Earth version of a young playboy or a Victorian dandy. Andy Serkis: We also examined the idea of his curious and inquisitive nature. I always saw Sméagol as a loner, not particularly liked, a bit of a Billy-No-Friends, and not very good at team sports. He would have been thought of as a bit weird, and he would have secretly dreamed up vengeful scenarios for all the other Stoor hobbits, who completely ignored him. So, to cope with being so introverted and alienated, he became a collector, obsessed with the "roots and beginnings" of things. Objects became more important than people; at least they couldn't hurt him. Physically, I gave him a stoop from constantly looking down. I imagined him to be fairly narcissistic, spending hours fascinating himself by staring at his own reflection in the water while he fished. We decided to display this obsessive behavior through shiny pau shell buttons and little trophies of fish bones tied to his belt, as if he were adorning himself with fetishlike status symbols. Although he was dysfunctional, he was not evil or malicious, just, as the Travis Bickle character says of himself in Taxi Driver, full of "morbid self-attention". Andy Serkis: In the scene, Déagol catches a fish, but can't reel it in -- it's too powerful and ends up pulling him into the water. I decided to play the scene with Sméagol enjoying seeing his cousin panic until suddenly Déagol disappears and he begins to panic himself, as I imagined him rather prone to outbursts of schadenfreude.

Sméagol: *delightfully spears worm* Déagol: *used to it*

[legendaryevokercupcake]

Reasons I support Wrathion

We have no proof that Sabellian is uncorrupted

Wrathion is bad at his job but at least he actually tries to do it. Sabellian left the planet and only came back when WRATHION had made sure it was safe.

Wrathion cares about Azeroth.

Sabellian served Deathwing for many years. Not Neltharion, DEATHWING. We don't know how many awful things he did in that time.

Wrathion looks like Medivh and I fucking love Medivh. It does not bode well for Anduin, though.

Wrathion slice and diced N'zoth. That takes hella balls.

His horrible sins were committed when he was an actual toddler. Like, he was three when Kairoz opened the Dark Portal.

He's baby. (No explanation)

His voice.

He helped us. We helped him. We have history.

His lesbian adoptive moms, Right and Left (ICONS)

I wanna see more of him, Kalec and Nozdormu bonding (Non romantic please, Wrathion is a child)

My 5 main alts are a mage who kins him, a priest who is literally a Blacktalon agent, a Blue Dragon who got trapped with the Dracthyr, a druid who wants to pretend to be his mom (he needs it XD) and a monk who goes with anything the druid says.

I just love Wrathion.