#in honor of her going to Ribes right away

[goatmati]

The most intimate side of Aitana Bonmatí, a normal girl at the top of football.

The immensity of her figure is overwhelming. Her name runs like wildfire, echoes through the pitch and lingers in those who have seen her play. Aitana Bonmatí (Sant Pere de Ribes, 1998) is a special player. Exceptional. Extraordinary. Her care for the ball, her respect for the game and her love for football have catapulted her to the top. The world around her is gigantic, even though it becomes smaller and smaller as she conquers new goals. This Monday, in Paris, she will become the new queen of football. However, while everything around her accelerates and becomes a maelstrom of recognition and trophies, she is still the normal girl who comes back from training every day and meets her friends for a match in Plaça Marcer. The world around her has changed, but she remains the same.

"She's a very close friend, someone you can really trust. Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but when she opens up, she opens up a lot. She keeps very much to herself," says Xavier Rovira, one of her lifelong friends. They met when they were five years old at the town's esplai GER, where they had activities every weekend, in addition to the camps and the camps in summer. Despite being a year younger, since they met they always went as a group and did everything together. Despite going to different schools (she to l'Escola del Pi, the others to l'Escola de la Riera de Ribes), she spent most of the time with them. "Apart from the esplai, we lived in the center during the week, which is in Ribes where there is a bar, a mall and a theater. We took music classes, where we both played guitar. We spent a lot of time there, as our parents would go for a drink together while we played football in the street," he adds.

With a ball at her feet. This is how she has been remembered since she was a child. While her life has been transforming as she goes through stages of football, what surrounded her outside the playing fields remains intact. Her environment has become her pillar, and Ribes has become her place of calm. An oasis where, after the hustle and bustle of training sessions, photoshoots, meetings and commitments, she can once again take refuge. Where she is Aitana, just another girl from the village.

"She could have taken, for example, the decision, simply for convenience, to move to Barcelona or closer to where she trains and works. But she has stayed in Ribes because it is where she has her people. It is where she has lived all her life and it gives her a certain tranquility. It's a way of disconnecting from the strident world of football and not being in the spotlight all day. If you're in Barcelona, you don't get out of the football ecosystem much either. She prioritizes her family and friends, who are the ones in Ribes," says Xavi. Aitana keeps the structure of her whole life intact. The foundations are the same as when she was a 15-year-old girl going to high school with her friends.

Ribes, her place.

Aitana is a girl of habits. Every day she goes to the village bakery to buy bread and her lemon cake, she shops in the small stores and every evening she meets her friends in the Plaça Marcer. Everyone knows what Aitana is going to order, there are few options and she has a predilection for matcha, to which she has also hooked Xavi: "We meet to make matcha. At her house, at the bar, when we meet to watch football...Always matcha. All the time, but especially in the afternoon, around five or six o'clock, which is when we meet. She doesn't drink wine or sugary drinks, she normally drinks water, but if one day she wants to drink something it has to be sweet or fruity wine. It's the only one she likes. But she doesn't love it either," says Xavi, who admits that they don't go out partying much. "We went out recently. And it was the first time I went out with her to a disco since she became a professional player," he confesses with a laugh.

When she leaves the Ciutat Esportiva and gets in the car, Aitana switches off. She almost always plays Catalan music. Txarango, The Tyets... Although from time to time reggaeton sneaks in. She takes advantage of the journey home, which takes about half an hour, to answer Whatsapp using the handsfree phone. "She answers at the moment and they are non-stop conversations. If I look at WhatsApp with her right now, I have three weeks where we talk every day. Yes it's true that she must have lots and lots of messages, and obviously in general she will take longer to respond. But for her circle, she's always there. She sends a lot of voice notes, not very long either. It mostly depends on the topic. We have had times of deeper conversations, then yes they are audios of a minute or two. But not on a day-to-day basis," says Xavi as he reviews their chat.

Voice notes and matchas.

Although message conversations are constant, they prefer to see each other whenever they can. "We make life every day in Ribes. you could say... gosh. We thought we would see Aitana, who has games every weekend and trains every day, once a month or every two weeks. But no! She's the friend I see the most. We meet three days a week on average. Or four. She comes home from training and says: "Come on, let's go for a drink, I have to explain to you. Free weekend? Well, let's take advantage of it and we'll all go out together. Free time? Come by the house and we'll watch a couple of things. It's very cool, because you never know what's going to happen. You're 15 years old and you have a group of friends and where does each one end up... And she, on the other hand, gets to where she is now, top of football, and you think: "”Maybe I'll lose her.” On the contrary," he says proud of Aitana, with whom he always finds time to go for matchas or brunch in Vilanova.

Aitana is a leader in the field and her skills on the pitch are also transferred to her group of friends, especially when they go on a getaway because she has the weekend off. She is in charge of the board games and always carries Jenga in her suitcase. Also Dixit. From time to time, they also play cards together.

"She's still a world champion, we all know that. You see her the day before playing a match in Cordoba against Switzerland with the national team and the next day we are here, so normal, having a matcha in the bar and talking about our shit. She's a very normal girl," says Xavi, who will accompany her to Paris with the rest of his friends, staff and family. She will lift the Ballon d'Or and achieve the biggest milestone of her career at an individual level. But a few days later she will return to Ribes. And she will sit in the Plaça Marcer like any other local.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Lips of an Angel

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Danish!Reader, Ivar/Freydis, Reader/OC

Summary: “Well, I had this idea of Ivar x reader based off the song Lips of an Angel. (If you feel like a Modern AU works best that's fine) Where Ivar is with Freydis, but Ivar never let go of his feelings for the reader and she never let go of hers, and you can decide how you want it to end.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, lost love, implied sex/cheating, mention of polygamy

A/N: This is the closest I’ll get I’ve gotten to writting 5b Ivar, and it still is ooc probably. I feel like a horrible writer for ignoring canon like this, but istg that season almost made me give up on Vikings altogether and I just can’t write it, or any of the characters as they were then.

Anyhow, hope you like this, I was on the fence about making it a modern!au or not, so I decided to write both a Viking times version and a Modern version. Different story completely, of course.

You can find the Modern!AU version of this request right here

Kattegat is still the same, you realize, it is as if Aslaug still sits on that throne.

In a way, you think she still does.

Álfarr’s hand is a comfortable weight on your back, and his warmth helps you thaw from the cold of memories and regret that took a hold of you the moment you crossed those walls.

“You cannot leave me!” His voice is an enraged snarl, his hand is gripping tight at the axe on the table.

You know it is madness to turn your back on Ivar the Boneless, you know it is madness to ignore the rage in his eyes. Still, you walk out of that worn-down church, and surprisingly, you survive.

And because the man you are travelling with, the man that claims to love you and to know you love him too, is too smart for his own good, he notices the way you wish for nothing more than to leave this place you just returned to.

And so he tries reminding you of what you have returned for, of the life you will be able to have once you spend one winter in Kattegat.

“I was thinking, after this, we could travel to Ribe,” Álfarr offers casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “The Danes are sure to welcome you back.”

“Hmm,” You reply, nodding your head, and because he deserves it, because you can’t forget what made you left Kattegat or what has made you return, you offer a smile, “I don’t know if they would welcome you, though.”

“I fought against Angantyr once,” He reminds you with a chuckle. After a moment, he brings you close and presses a kiss to the side of your head, “Besides, more than a year ago I was convinced-…”

“Convinced? You make it sound as if-…”

“I was convinced by a beautiful Danish woman to leave those wars behind,” Álfarr continues with a knowing smile, ignoring your glare of protest. “And I don’t regret it.”

“Well let’s hope she doesn’t regret this, eh?” You try around a deep breath, a smile that feels fake.

One winter. Only one winter in Kattegat, and then Álfarr will be at your side wherever the Gods will take you. Such was the pledge he made, and the deal you agreed to.

____

Long before the night that now envelops you had settled, word had reached you that the King calls for you, and all you’ve been able to do since that thrall delivered the message was to consider the cost of running away, cowardly as it may be.

Reminiscent of those last weeks before he drove you away, before you left him behind.

“Ivar calls for you.” Hvitserk tells you with a sigh, taking a seat at your side with an exhaustion that is more than physical.

“What for? He listens only to his own voice lately.” You quip bitterly, but still stand up and with a soft touch of the Prince’s shoulder, you answer a call that hurts your pride, your hope.

Álfarr’s steps approaching you take you away from the dangerous lull of memories.

“Are you going to go?” He asks without preamble, taking a seat in front of you.

You sigh, “If the King calls for me-…”

Álfarr chuckles bitterly, interrupting you, “Ah, of course. The King summoning a Völva, nothing more. Surely not your ex-lover wanting to see you again.”

“Do you want me to say no? Not many survive denying Ivar.”

“You survived leaving him.”

“Yes. I left him,” You repeat pointedly, not intending to withstand foolish jealousy. But because what the years made out of you isn’t happy with the way he is soothed slightly at your reminder, you add, “I left him when he tried keeping me chained.”

And Álfarr was always a smart man, it was one of the reasons you first trusted him. So in response to the threat you don’t voice, he only shrugs, “You wouldn’t leave me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the unwavering certainty, “What makes you think that?”

“Nothing could make you wish to return to Kattegat until me,” Álfarr offers you a smile, that you almost start returning, “I still consider it a feat, to have been able to sway you.”

You drink down the last of your mead, tilting your head back and trying to chase away bitterness with the honeyed drink.

“You swayed me the moment I found you dying and chose to save you, you fool.” You quip, betraying a fond smile that he returns.

Without any more words, you stand up. Your hand traces the outline of his shoulders, strong and familiar, as you walk out the door.

____

Ivar waits for you sitting in what looks like an adjacent room to the throne room.

You wish you could say he looks the same, you wish you could say he still has the face, the eyes, of the man you once loved.

But his face is darkened by shadows and something more sinister than that, his eyes are colder and crueler than you ever had the misfortune of seeing them.

It still makes a pang of pain travel to your chest, to the place where your heart ought to be if you hadn’t carelessly given it away years ago, to see him before you, in the flesh, not a dream or a memory.

“My King.” You bow your head.

“Say my name,” Ivar orders gruffly, and at your startled expression when you lift your gaze to his, he amends, “We’ve-…Don’t act like we are strangers. Call me by my name.”

“Alright, Ivar,” You concede, the familiar sound of his name on your lips still managing to make your chest tighten. You take a seat in the chair across from him that was offered, and fold your hands over your lap to keep yourself from fidgeting. “Why did you call for me?”

“You arrive at a Kingdom and don’t dare visit the King, hm?” He taunts without missing a beat, “You used to have better manners.”

And you used to avoid playing these games with me, you think, but bite back the words.

“I needn’t bother any king with an announcement of my arrival,” You remind him, “I am no one of importance, of fame.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” A soft and dainty voice says, making a chill run down your spine even before you see the blonde approaching from the shadows. She offers a smile, but the eyes of the Queen of Kattegat are as cold as the King’s. “You’re the Völva that granted the Black Danes many victories, aren’t you?”

You watch, frozen in your place, as she approaches Ivar with ease, resting one delicate hand on his shoulder, standing by his side.

Trying to keep your eyes from following the movement of Ivar’s hand that goes to touch hers where it rests on his shoulder, you reply, “I have granted no man any victory.”

“The Gods did, but in no little thanks to your work, your magic. I have heard of you,” She insists, and you frankly do not know what to do with her false warmth. Looking into her eyes feels like watching a flame from the other side of a glass window, an illusion, a façade. “And I am honored you’re here.”

You bow your head in acceptance, “Thank you, Queen Freydis.”

She betrays a wider smile, a more feral smile, and your blood runs cold.

“Ah, you know my name. You have heard of me too, then?”

You feel like you’re being ambushed, so instead of giving her an answer, you return your gaze to the King.

“Why was I summoned here?”

Ivar regards you in silence, eyes slightly narrowed and a cold cruelty in the slight curve of his smile.

Still, he gestures with his hand, dismissing his wife, ordering her to leave the two of you alone.

“Word is you aren’t here to stay.”

“Just for the winter.”

“A Völva, and one always close to the sons of Ragnar at that,” He lists, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on armored knees, “I could have use for you.”

You feel cold creeping over you, and lean back.

“Use?”

“It is a matter of time before Freydis becomes pregnant with my child,” Ivar comments with what to anyone else would look like nonchalance, but you hear the cruelty behind the words. “I could use a witch weaving her magic to protect my child and wife.”

It hurts, it hurts at a deep part of your chest, so much so you almost want to look down to see if there’s a gaping wound where your heart should be.

“There’s many that would be willing to do so, but not me.”

“Why not?”

“My home isn’t Kattegat.”

“Where is it, then? With that blacksmith?” He accuses without missing a beat. The anger in his tone, the accusation, the vitriol, the rage, it is all so familiar.

It is all you left behind, with reason to do so.

“I will put word that Kattegat is in search of a Völva to protect the King and his family,” You say around the foolish and hopeless knot of pain at your throat, “I’m sure someone will be of help.”

Standing up from your seat, you mutter a goodbye and turn your back to the King.

His voice, loud and enraged as he calls your name, makes all of this a familiar scene, and it makes you stop dead on your tracks.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.” Ivar snarls at you, the sound of a crutch stabbing the ground as he stands up as well.

You take a deep breath, but don’t turn around.

“May I leave, then?”

“No,” He sentences, walking closer, “Not now, and not when winter is over.”

You gasp, “What?”

“I’m keeping you here in Kattegat,” Ivar states, intimidating, venomous, unfamiliar as he towers over you, “I’m King, I can do as I wish with you.”

“I am a free woman,” You remind him, “Only my blood would rule over me, and they are all dead. My blood or my husband, and you, Ivar, are neither.”

“You cannot command me!” You insist with a laugh, defiant even as you tilt your head to the side to let him continue his thorough exploration of your neck with his lips and tongue.

“Hm, you forget who leads the army you fight for, witch.” He teases, a breathed laugh against your neck when you pull on his hair, offended at the title

“No one but my family commands me, Ivar.”

“They are all dead.”

“Not all of them,” You quip, a foolish knot on your stomach tightening at the conversation you’re about to start, “Family isn’t just blood. One day I will be married, and my husband will be my family.”

“So, no one but your blood or your husband would dare rule over you,” He intones, pulling back and searching your eyes, “Why do I have the feeling it wouldn’t be so easy to make you surrender?”

“Because you have good judgement?” You offer with a tentative laugh.

Ivar only smiles, and leans down to capture your mouth in his. His kisses never fail to make your heart beat so fast you hear it in your head.

In the way his hands tighten over whatever part of you he has a hold of, in the way his tongue demands entrance to your mouth, in the way you feel the soft sounds he cannot keep trapped; you find yourself gone, enthralled, his.

When he pulls back, his eyes, darkened and burning, linger on your kiss-bitten lips for a few moments.

“With those lips of yours, love, it would be very easy to make any man surrender.” Ivar confesses in a hoarse whisper, and past the pang of heat his words and the way he’s looking at you send through you, you smile.

“My lips?” He hums an agreement, and in the few moments you have him enthralled, your smile turns devious, “Where?”

Ivar grits his teeth at the reminder, and the flash of pain you imagine seeing for a moment could make you believe he remembers the same moments you do, the same life you wish you could have lived till your last breath, the same world you wish you had never left behind.

“That blacksmith you came with.”

“He’s a warrior, and you know his name.” You tell him, aware you’re prodding a dangerous beast but still doing so with an arrogant tilt of your chin.

“Does he know about me?” Ivar asks, voice low and dangerous, “About us? About what you promised me?”

“Does she?” You ask, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone.

Ivar’s reply is immediate, “Yes.”

And with a simple word weighs on you the realization that either she means much more to him than you ever imagined, or you still do. You aren’t sure you want to know the answer.

“I have to go,” You tell him, stepping back and lowering your gaze to the dark wood under your feet. “Tell your brother I would love to see him. I’ve missed him.”

“You’ll just leave?”

“No, I will stay until winter passes. I-…”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, and you know it,” He accuses, furious movements of his crutch as he approaches you again. “You’ll leave me again.”

The words tug at a pathetic and foolish part of your heart, a part of your heart that you never got back. A part of your heart that was left behind in some old church in York.

Still, you offer truth, a truth that lacerates at your throat on the way out, “I never returned to you, Ivar.”

His free hand grabs roughly at your arm, and his breathing is fast, his eyes are searching yours desperately.

The furious glint in his eye, the twinge of madness in his scowl, the phrase he would repeat over and over as if he could make it truth by will alone, “You will not leave me.”

“You are here, Fate brought you back to me.”

“Fate brought your wife to you,” You remind him, pain interwoven in your every word, “Fate brought Álfarr to my side. Fate pulled us apart, Ivar.”

But he shakes his head, stubborn and desperate. For a moment, in the way the snarl in his lips trembles, in the way he blinks quickly, you see the man you love.

“No.” Is all he says, before he brings you to him roughly, and claims your mouth.

You have been familiar with magic all your life, and you know it is something other than it, but it feels like magic when you let yourself give into his kiss. It feels like something stronger than magic when you find yourself giving in to Ivar, breaths quickened as you watch him answer the command of the gentle push of your hand and sit on the chair at his back.

Kissing him, it is anger, it is anger and lust and grief and love, you won’t deny it. It is biting and demanding and rough and him.

Getting lost in the feel, the smell, the taste, of him was always easy. Terrifyingly easy, once.

And so you lose yourself in the push and pull of your bodies moving as one, in the way he demands with bites and kisses and soft sounds breathed against your lips the surrender you refuse to give, in the way he lets you try and lure him to that same surrender with your lips on his skin and the intonation of his name on your lips that still makes him tremble.

His hands are rough and demanding as they grip your hips, and he makes you move above him with a punishing pace. And it feels like he is trying to punish you. For leaving him. For returning.

Your own hands grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and drawing blood, traying to dispel the touch of any other with each drop. So that there’s a bit of you left with him, a proof. Of how you once were his. Of how he’s still yours.

____

You lay in the quiet that lets you pretend you never left that world you once loved so much, in the peace that makes your chest ache for the unsaid vows you broke.

Ivar’s head rests against your chest, letting you every once in a while feel the drag of his mouth over your skin, lazily retracing a path he bit and kissed his way through earlier. Your fingers, aching to be once again familiar with the feel of his skin, the softness of his hair, travel wherever you can reach, ceaselessly.

It is as if in each breath shared, in each moan that trembled past parted lips, in each moment of ecstasy and of pain; the anger and the resentment and the hate gave way, let the world that once was take a hold of the moment you live -bask- in now.

The quiet is broken by a soft murmur of your name, and your chest pulls tight at the sound of it in Ivar’s voice, at the return of the fragile softness, the hidden gentleness, you once were the sole recipient of.

“I have…dreamt of you, these passing years,” He tells you, even a confession such as this traced by underlying anger. He presses yet another kiss to the skin above your heart, “I have missed you.”

“So have I, more…more than I could ever say.” You offer, closing your eyes to keep tears from filling your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Ivar whispers, voice so, so quiet.

You release a breath that shakes and trembles past your lips, “You and I are fated to say goodbye, I think. Always were.”

He lifts his head, strikingly blue eyes meeting yours.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“You have a wife, Ivar, I can’t-…”

“You can be my wife too,” He offers, making your heart both soar and break. “You wouldn’t be queen, but you never minded for pow-…”

“Ivar,” You interrupt, voice shaking, “Listen to what you’re saying. You’re asking me to be your second wife. To take Freydis as my sister-wife.”

“She won’t object,” He says it with such certainty that it sickens you, and you scramble to stand, to part from his embrace. “She’d do anything I asked her to. She will accept.”

You are shaking your head, putting the shield your dress serves as back up over your skin.

“I could never accept,” You tell him, and because you want to linger for a moment longer in the sun, in the brief paradise where you’re allowed to see the real him shining in his blue eyes; you walk closer one last time and let your fingers trace the side of his face lovingly, smiling even if it is a goodbye, “No woman that loves you would settle for half of you.”

Whether you speak of her and her faults, or you and your hopeless heart; you don’t know.

____ ____ ____

Hope you liked this! Thank you so much for reading!!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @chibisgotovalhalla​ @fae-sedai​

[randomfandomimaginetime]

The Shadow of Helms Deep

Summary: Long family friends, the reader has known Aragorn from a very young age. When the battle of Helms Deep comes to play, she chooses to fight rather than stay locked away with the other women and children. This is to a strong dislike of Aragorn who views the reader as family and Legolas who has grown to love her. 

Need to know: [Y/N]= Your name

Part 1 

“Like this?” You questioned swinging your blade sharply. The young man instructing your lessons just smiled down at you, shaking his head slightly.

“Yes. You are getting very good, but you are still putting too much into the blade. Remember it is an extension of your body,” walking over, he gently held your wrist guiding it along to create the movement he expected from the sword. “You must treat it as an extension of your body. Only then can you master the art.”

You nodded. Closing your eyes, you focused on the energy of the sword in your hand. You felt its weight, length, and structure. Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes focused on the target before you and...”

“YES! That was the best yet,” the young man said.

“Very good! Very good indeed,” cackled a rough voice. Another smiling man was walking in the room clapping his hands together.

 “You have done well training my daughter Aragorn,” said the man delighted. “Your services are much appreciated.”

“It is my honor,” Aragorn said with a bow.

You gave your father a bright smile before you were pulled back to your senses. Even deep within the caves, the thunderous footsteps of the Uruk-hai could be heard making their way towards helms deep. You had begun pacing the caves quite some time ago. So, what if you were a woman, you could still fight. With each step, you took, another worried face swept across your peripheral. These were the faces of frightened souls. A soul which had just the slightest greater chance of survival if you were out there.

“You should sit down dear,” came a soft voice. You turned to see an old woman looking anxiously at you. “It’ll be alright. The men will take care of us. They- “her words were cut off by a dreary silence. Then the noise everyone so greatly dreaded made its way into the caves. Battle cries had begun arousing aggression and attempting to cause intimidation. When the soft cries of an infant echoed out in the distance you could stand the seclusion no longer. You could handle Aragorn’s anger, but you couldn’t handle doing nothing.  

“Where are, you going? We aren’t to leave the caves?” Several women cried. You ignored their words continuing to make your way towards the exit. None of them perused. You made sure the doors were locked tight behind you has you climbed to the surface. Now out in the open, arrows flying, swords clanking, and the screams of men could easily be heard.  You knew right where the armory was, but you had to get there quickly.             

There were slim pickings when you finally reached the armory. With some digging you were able to uncover a semi-decent sword and uniform. It took a few swings to get used to it, but the sword would work. Maybe it was in your head, but the cries from the battle sounded worse than you’d feared. It was only seconds now before you’d reach the wall. Arrows flying from men higher up were beginning to come into sight. When BOOM! The unthinkable had just become a reality. You watched as pieces of the so called impenetrable wall shot high in the sky right before your very eyes.               

“No…” you whispered. Shoving your way to the front lines, you were now able to see where the gaping hole in the wall was. Your heart skipped a beat. There lying motionless on the ground was Aragorn.               

“Aragorn!” You cried running towards him. “Aragorn!” The Uruk-hai were beginning to charge in through the hole. If someone didn’t do something quickly he’d be trampled. There was no way you’d make it in time. “Aragorn,” you called out once more.

“ARAGORN! AHHH!” Came a more overpowering voice. Gimli had jumped from the ledge and onto the incoming Uruk-hai.

“Gimli!” Aragorn cried, rising from the ground. The momentum from your running caused you to slam into Aragorn. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, then turned back to Gimli. He didn’t have time to be angry with you, but you knew his rants would come later.

“Hado ribed,” Aragorn yelled. Then hundreds of elven arrows flew at the oncoming enemy. He gave you one more firm look before calling “Herio!” Raising your sword, you charged with the others at the Uruk-hai. They were to many in numbers, there was no way you could take them all. You managed to get two in the neck, before Aragorn had to shove you away as an arrow flew past where your head was only a few seconds ago.

“I told you not to come,” he roared.

“And I told you,” you said stabbing an Uruk coming up behind Aragorn, “that I could take care of myself and fight.”

“What do I have to do? Chain you down? You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “If anything happens to you Legolas will have my head!”

“He needn’t worry about me either,” you said swinging around and taking another life.

“I swore to your father I would protect you,” Aragorn said.

“A very noble thing. Only I don’t need protection.” Aragorn rolled his eyes before focusing back on his fighting.

“I will not stand back helpless while others need my help.” Turning to stab another Uruk-hai, for the first time since you’d gotten to the battle you felt anxious. Legolas had spotted you. Grabbing a piece of armor, he threw it before the stairs. Running to jump on it, he knocked his bow, shooting and killing at least 6 men on his way down.

“Did he just…” you said jaw agape.

“Come on!” Aragorn urged. Grabbing you by the wrist, he began to pull you to safety

“But did you not just see that?” Aragorn was paying no attention, but taking you to meet Legolas.

“Aragorn,” he hissed. “You swore to me she wouldn’t fight.” Raising his bow, he shot three oncoming men.  

“Aragorn!” Yelled another voice. You recognized it at once. It was Theoden. “Pull back to the keep! Get your men out of there!”

“Take her to the keep,” Aragorn instructed Legolas. “I’ll meet you there.” Legolas gave a firm nod. Grabbing you by the arm he pulled you along with him.

“What?! No! Aragorn I’m staying with you.”

“No!” Aragorn snapped. “I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you both there.” Then with a little more force, Legolas dragged you towards the keep. You listened as Aragorn instructed others to follow suite.

“Legolas,” you said silently pleading for him to release you. Pulling you closer to him, he was much more gentle leading you on and as he said,

“Aragorn has much strength left in him. We must respect his wishes and go while we have the chance.”

[taniasinel]

The Most Beautiful Ball

  Did you happen to see the photographs on Instagram of the Swan Ball?  If you are a fan of Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew – this year’s Swan Ball was made for you!   I know it was for me.

   Each year in Nashville, the Swan Ball is held to raise funds for Cheekwood, the mansion and botanical garden located on 55 acres in the Nashville Hills.

Mark and Sarah served as this year’s esteemed Event Designers of The Swan Ball – and as you can imagine Cheekwood was bathed in their favorite color.  The tables were pure Mark and Sarah.  These two are a perfect match and probably should be working together – they would set the design world on fire, even though they already have, separately!!!

Mark lives and works in L.A., but Sarah lives in Nashville – so their pairing for the Swan Ball makes perfect sense with Sarah holding down the fort, locally.  I was drooling over the table settings when they started popping up on Instagram this weekend.  They were gorgeous.

But first, what IS the Swan Ball?

This year is the 55th Annual Swan Ball and it is Nashville’s social highlight of the year.  Held each June, it benefits Cheekwood Estate and Gardens.   The dress is very elegant – white tie.  This partial list of who’s who from past years Swan Balls gives you a clue of how first class this event truly is.

PAST SWAN AWARD RECIPIENTS:

The Honorable Walter H. Annenberg Dr. Armand Hammer Mr. Kip Forbes Mr. Albert Hadley!!! Mrs. Anne Hendricks Bass Mrs. Lynne S. Wyatt Mario Buatta!!! Bunny Williams!!!

PAST ENTERTAINERS:

Johnny Cash Tony Bennett Jay Leno Diana Ross Aretha Franklin Reba McEntire

PAST DESIGNER EXHIBITIONS:

Oscar de la Renta!!! Bill Blass!!! Carolina Herrera!!! Carolyne Roehm!!! Jacqueline de Ribes Halston

PAST JEWELRY EXHIBITORS:

Tiffany!!! Cartier!!! Bulgari!!! Harry Winston Van Cleef and Arpels Mish

This year the entertainer was the singer Sheryl Crow, the jeweler was Mish, and the honoree was Carolina Herrera.  Not bad!

The event is so special the actual Swan Auction is held three weeks before the Ball.  On the night of the ball, the elders eat at Cheekwood, while the younger set have their own party and dinner at Massey Hall at the Botanical Center. After dinner, they come to see the “late night” entertainment over at the Late Party at Cheekwood.

To read the auction items go HERE.

And before all the festivities even start, in February there is an Unveiling Party to announce the details of the ball and to see a preview of the décor.

In other words, it is quite an event, to say the least!!!

The Swan Ball Event Designers Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew at the Unveiling Party this past February.

Hmmm.  I wonder what their Décor Scheme for this year’s Swan Ball will be?!?!

Meanwhile, I’m busy staring at that Cy Twombly!! 

 Mark Sikes is known for his casual style and his love of the color blue.  Here is a living room he designed – a vision in blue and white.

But, Mark uses other colors, sometimes, as long as they blend with blue!  I love this room!!!  And that’s his own rug!  Love, love, love that rug.

Mark’s design partner for the Swan Ball, Sarah Bartholomew, is a rising star in Nashville.

Be sure to visit Sarah and Mark’s blogs for their photos from the Swan Ball!!

Sarah’s design for an entry hall is bathed in blue.  One of my favorite foyers ever!!  LOVE!!

While Sarah loves blue and white like Mark, she also does a lot of green.  She especially loves to mix green with blue.

So…what design scheme do you think Mark and Sarah came up with for the Swan Ball?  Blue and white?  Blue with red?  Green and white?  Green with blue???

Patience, patience.

First, let’s take a look at the Cheekwood mansion:

Cheekwood Art and Gardens is located 10 miles southeast of downtown Nashville on the once private estate known simply as Cheekwood.  The 55 acres contain 12 distinct gardens, including a Japanese Garden, numerous ponds, fountains, walkways, and paths.   There is the Pineapple Room restaurant on the property, the large Massey Hall, the Museum of Art, the Frist Learning Center and the Wills Perennial Garden.

The Museum of Art, is the centerpiece of Cheekwood:  it is located in the 1920s Georgian mansion once owned by the Cheek Family.  The Frist Learning Center is located in the original carriage house and stables.

  The story goes that in the 1920s young Mabel Cheek bought a floor to ceiling gilt mirror at an antique shop.  It was too tall for the home she and her husband Leslie lived in, so he said either sell the mirror or they would have to move.  Apparently Mabel chose to move and that is how Cheekwood came to be built.

The couple met when the single Mabel Wood stopped in Kentucky while on a train trip.  Leslie Cheek noticed Mabel and asked her name and where she was going.  A few days later a mutual friend brought Leslie to Mabel’s house to properly meet her.  He wooed her with weekly gifts of candy and flowers and in 1896, they married in Clarksville.  After the wedding, Leslie worked for CT Cheek & Sons, the family’s wholesale grocery distributor.

The wedding of Mabel and Leslie Cheek.

In 1929, after Mabel had bought her oversized mirror, they hired Bryant Fleming to design a 36 room, 30,000 sq ft house.

Cheekwood, as it was being built.

Originally the property covered 100 acres, and today, it is on 50 acres.   But,  since Cheekwood is right next to The Warner Parks, together, the two properties are over 2,684 acres of woodland, all designed by Bryant Fleming.   Bryant was not only the architect of Cheekwood,  he also acted as the interior and landscape designer.   When built, the Limestone house had 9 bedrooms, 12 bathrooms, an elevator, a hidden staircase, and a library to hold the 1000s of books in the Cheeks’ collection.   For their two children, son Leslie Jr. and daughter Huldah, separate suites were built.  The house was furnished with English antiques from the 17th and 18th centuries.

Cheekwood, named after Leslie Cheek and Mabel Wood. 

A early aerial view from the rear.  You can see how the loggia on the back side of the house was originally open aired, with no doors.  Today it is closed off with extra tall French doors.  At the left of the main house are the carriage houses and stables.  Today, there is an additional new building there that is the site of the Frist Learning Center.  And notice the reflecting pool at the right of the house.  The drawing room overlooks this area.

1958.  The original fountain at the back of the house.  At one time the open air loggia was closed off by shutters as seen here.  Today, it is completely enclosed behind French doors.

Today:  A winter view of the back of Cheekwood shows the loggia with the installed French doors.  The same fountain remains.  At the left of the house you can see a rather ugly gray addition – this building was added in the 60s in order to provide necessary utilitarian rooms and fire escapes, etc.  for the art museum, as the house now is.

1958.  The original stables.   When the house was completed, the Cheek children were both in college, at Harvard and Bryn Mawr.  They kept their horses at home in the Cheekwood stables. 

Today.   The original stables on the right and the carriage house on the left.  A new contemporary building was added to connect these two vintage structures.  This is now the Frist Learning Center.

The stables and carriage house decorated for a wedding.  Cheekwood is one of Nashville’s most popular spots for a wedding and many brides choose this area for their outdoor reception.

The family were world travelers – newspaper clippings reveal they went to such faraway places as India.  One trip to England in 1929 lasted three months and was actually a buying trip for Cheekwood.  Bryant Fleming accompanied the family on this trip to supervise the purchases.

 There are invoices and receipts from that trip that survive today.  The family visited Chatsworth and it said the staircase there inspired the one at Cheekwood.   Another source says the staircase was inspired by Queen Charlotte’s palace at Kew.  Hmmm.  The fireplace in the foyer was said to be a Robert Adam but to me there are others in the house that look more like Adam.   The mahogany doors came from Grosvenor House in London.  The receipt above showed they did buy 4 bronze grilles from Grosvenor House, but no mention of doors.   It took seven railway cars to deliver all their London purchases to Cheekwood.

But it all came to an early end for Leslie Sr. who died suddenly in 1935, just a few years after moving into his dream home.  Mabel continued to live in the house, entertaining, gardening and spending much of her time in the library.

Mrs. Cheek passed away in 1945 at 72, leaving the estate to her children and grandchildren.  Her daughter then moved into Cheekwood with her husband and her daughter Leslie.

The family gifted Cheekwood to the public in 1957.  Funds were raised to create the botanical gardens and museum.  The former Nashville Museum of Art offered their permanent collection to Cheekwood and finally in 1960, Nashville’s new attraction opened its doors.

For the past two years and at a cost of many millions of dollars, the house has been renovated and for the first time in years the original mirror is now on display, again.  Before the renovation, the house was used as a museum and for office space.  The renovation will give visitors a look into how the Cheeks actually lived in the house.

Much of the information needed for the restoration was taken from this magazine, published in 1934.  I would LOVE to read this!!!

Alright – I found this on EBay and ordered it!!!  Yeah!!!  I wish it still cost just 50 cents.

Past the front gates, the house, on a rise, comes into view.

In all, the restoration included several of the rooms:   the drawing room, library, dining room, loggia, morning room, recreation room and bedroom suite – all on the first and ground floors.  One the second floor, the Museum will keep its galleries for exhibition space.  The restoration was just completed and the new rooms were revealed at this years Swan Ball.

At one point, the ivy was allowed to grow all over the limestone.  This looks awful!!

Today:  An aerial view shows the front of the house and to the right, the stables and carriage house.

A plan of each 3 floors, thanks to The Devoted Classicist who wrote a long, and wonderful story about Cheekwood HERE.

Because of the hilly property, the house is a fancy kind of split level!  The living room/library wing on the left side of the house is a 1/2 floor below the main floor.  Guests entry the foyer on the ground level and take stairs to the first floor where the decorated grand hallway is.  The loggia runs parallel to the hallway.  To the left is the drawing room which looks out to the side of the house where the Wisteria Arbor and Reflecting Pool are.  

Guests at the Swan Ball entering the ground floor front door.  You can see the drawing room wing at the left – which is a half-floor below the main level.  Notice how the drawing room windows are below the first floor windows.   Look at the beautiful limestone façade.   The gray is so on trend for today!

1934.  An early photo of the foyer with its grand stone and iron staircase that leads to the main floor.   A similar tapestry is on the wall today.  It’s a shame the original tapestry is no longer there.  There are two magnificent staircases in the house and they are really the focal points of the mansion.  They are so very elegant and beautiful.

Before the restoration, these two paintings hung in the stairway.

Not the original tapestry, but this one now hangs in the entry hall.

A view from the stairs to the foyer with the Robert Adam? fireplace, which is so gorgeous.  Whether it is an Adam or not, it is an antique mantel from England.

The Foyer.    Here you can see the fireplace more clearly.  Notice the clock above the mantel.  Isn’t it beautiful?

From a Christmas party – the view from the landing down to the foyer.  Flanking the double wood doors are twin gilded mirrors.  These double doors open onto the grand hallway.

1934.   The grand hall off the staircase which is through the double wood doors.  Past the hall are the second set of stairs that lead up to the second floor and the rotunda.  This space is gorgeous.

1958.  A close up of the murals.

A newer view of the grand hallway.  Here you can see the murals.  That looks like the same console that was here in the 50s.

A later view of the grand hallway – you can see the doors that open to the loggia.   The loggia runs parallel to the grand hallway.  It was once open to the elements but today, the loggia is closed in with French doors.   The molding is painted dark here which is more dramatic.   But today the wood is white again – after the restoration.  What a stunning hallway!  Notice the chandeliers.  Past the doorway is the second stairway and the rotunda.

Looking the opposite direction towards the drawing room, which is half a floor down.  Through the double wood doors are the stairs that lead down to the foyer.

Close up of the original chandeliers in the grand hallway.  It looks like there are Oriental figures on the top of the chandelier.

A close of the mural in the hallway.  Amazing!  It looks so real!

Today.  The grand hallway, after restoration.  New curtains.  Newly restored/covered chairs.  The molding is now painted white.

From the Swan Ball, the guests in the grand hallway.  Also, notice the curtains and cornice around the French doors.

Let’s go inside the loggia that runs alongside the grand hallway.

The loggia today.  Through the doors off the grand hallway is the loggia, here set for a garden party.  Notice the medallions embedded in the stucco walls.  And notice the lanterns. 

On this end of the loggia, the doors lead into the dining room.  Love the putti!

This view of the loggia, set for another garden party. 

Set up for a dinner party.  The doors lead into the dining room.  So pretty!

The  view of the loggia at the back of the house. 

For the Swan Ball, a large tent is set up on the lawn and guests enter it through the grand hallway and loggia. 

1934.  Back inside, at the end of the grand hallway – are the half set of stairs that led down to the vestibule before the drawing room and library.  More medallions embedded in the stucco.

1958.  In the drawing room with the double wood doors, the view shows the vestibule and the half stairs that lead up to the grand hallway.

  At a winter wedding, with the house decorated for Christmas, a bagpiper entertains the guests as he enters the drawing room vestibule.  The molding was painted black back then.

Today:  Looking towards the drawing room – the half stairs lead down to the vestibule.  Through the wood door at the right is a small anteroom that leads to the library.  Notice how pretty the surround around the drawing room’s door is. 

And, is that Mabel’s original too-tall mirror?  A wonderful photo of the vestibule.  Notice the medallion embedded in the wall – so pretty!  I love all the medallions that are placed throughout the first floor.

The drawing room – an early view, filled with all the English antiques purchased in London.  For the renovation, the curators tried to recreate this room as closely as possible.

These original photos of the interiors were the ones published in the Country Life Magazine in 1934.

1958.  Later, the room was partially cleared out, probably when Huldah’s family moved out the last time.   Huldah Cheek held her wedding reception in this drawing room.

The one thing I really don’t care for is the red curtains and of course, they reproduced these for the renovation!

Later, a new rug was placed down.  Display cases hold the large Ewers-Tyne collection of Worchester Porcelain.  What is so nice about the drawing room being half a floor below the rest of the house is that the ceiling is taller.

Still, a later view with the rug removed.

The drawing room set for a garden party.  This is the view facing towards the library and the grand hallway, on the right.   The French doors on the left side lead to the Wisteria Arbor and the stairs down to the Reflecting Pool.

 Today.   And the newly renovated drawing room, as near to the original décor as possible.

No longer a museum, it is meant to recreate how the Cheeks actually lived in the house.  Notice the mantel.

Notice the pretty ceiling and beautiful molding.

The paint colors were recreated as were the curtains, which do look exactly like the original ones. 

And guests admire the fireplace and the newly restored living room.   In the corner is the Steinway piano, a wedding gift from Mabel to her son Leslie Cheek, Jr.  It was signed by Theodore Steinway himself, who wished the couple well.     I would love to see this room decorated for today without having to recreate how it once was.  I would love to see it with whiter walls and neutral curtains, not red, and with a more neutral rug – it is such a beautiful room.

The main view from the room is through the large window at the end of the room and the other view out the side French door, that leads to the wisteria arbor and reflecting pond.

Here you can see the living room’s main window with its Juliet balcony. 

The large living room window from the outside, taken at a wedding.  Look how pretty the balcony is.

Another view of the front façade with the left wing where the living room is.  Its large window overlooks the front lawn.

These French doors lead out from the drawing room to the large wisteria arbor. 

The Wisteria Arbor overlooks the hills and is a favorite spot where brides pose for a portrait.  Below this is the reflecting pond.

At the side of the wisteria arbor, double stone steps winding around the fountain lead down to the reflecting pond.

Another view of the urn/fountain that shows the French door that leads into the drawing room.

The view of the wisteria arbor from below. 

The stairs that lead up from the reflecting pond to the arbor to the drawing room.  At summer the wisteria is so thick!!

In the winter the arbor is exposed.  I wonder why they didn’t use evergreen wisteria.  Maybe it doesn’t grow in Nashville?

The view from the drawing room, down to the wisteria arbor and to the reflecting pond and beyond.

The pond.  You can see the stone stairs that lead up to the wisteria arbor and the drawing room.

1934:  Across from the drawing room is the paneled library.  Here is an early view of the room filled with the Cheek’s English antiques.  Notice the clock above the mantel.  Also, the door to the left of the mantel leads to the vestibule and up to the grand hallway.

Later, the room was cleared out.  The house/museum’s silver collection was displayed in this library.

After the recent renovation, the library looks as it once did, filled with the books the family owned.  Also the furniture is similar to what was once there.  The same original chandelier hangs above.   The door to the right leads to the drawing room.

A closer view of the marble mantel.

Mabel was said to spend almost all her time while inside, in the library.

The vestibule leads to this anteroom that leads to the library.  Notice the antique porcelain portraits on display.

1958:  Going back down the grand hallway – at the end of it is the stairway to the second floor with its rotunda ceiling.  

An early view of the rotunda.  Through the arched door is one of the bedroom suites.

Along the wall of the staircase is an arch that opens up to the hall beyond.

Each year there are different artists who do installations for the Swan Ball.  Here it was the great Chihuly who was invited.  One of his light fixtures was installed in the second stair hall.  It is fabulous!!!!!   You can see the rotunda here.

The second stairhall – looking back toward the grand hallway and further, into the drawing room and the French Doors that lead out to the wisteria arbor!  To the right of the mirror and console, out of sight, are the doors that lead to the dining room.

And another art installation – chandelier.  Under this stair, you can barely see an arched door that leads to a bedroom suite.  More about that bedroom, later.

The contemporary light fixture – it looks like rain here!   It hangs down from the rotunda.

1934:  The dining room with dark walls.  The double wood doors open to the stairhall.  Through the doors by the fireplace is the morning room/breakfast room.

1958.  Light painted walls.  The museum’s large snuff collection is through the right door, in what was probably once a butler’s pantry.  The floors are black and white marble.

Another early view of the dining room.  Later, the ironwork on the console will be removed.

Before the restoration, the curtains were red and gold. 

                                                                                                                             Today:  The new dining room under the restoration.  Double doors with the gilded molding open to the dining room.

Furnished in blue to coordinate with the original mantel.  The chandelier appears original too, as does some of the furniture.

This restoration is really pretty.

From the Swan Ball.  The furniture was removed to make room for the jewelry cases to display Mish’s jewels.

The fireplace.

Close up. I wonder if this is lapis or blue marble?

The morning room is going to be restored.  It has marble floors, a bay window and it opens to a terrace.  This room is a stop on the Christmas tour.

The 1934 photo of the recreation room.  What an incredible room!  Look at the furniture.  It looks like a English house in the 18th century.  Most exciting is behind the stove and terracotta brick fireplace is the hidden staircase!   On the far left, notice the suzani fabric on the table!!  Wow!!

1934:  Mabel’s mother slept in this room – through the short door under the stairs.  The two room suite is separated by the black and white marble bathroom.   This room has been turned into an office, but it was restored back to the bedroom.

And here is the office that was once the two bedroom suite.  I wish we could see the fireplace at the left!

1934.  In this room is the original mirror that Mabel bought which was too tall for her house, causing her husband Leslie to build Cheekwood.  Today, the mirror is back at Cheekwood, in the drawing room vestibule, after the restoration.

1934:  The reading room on the second floor.  This amazing room is quite different from the Georgian style. 

This girl poses in the Reading Room, an atmospheric, small room on the second floor that will be restored.  With its dark wood beams and stucco mantel, the room is very Spanish in feel!  Wonder what happened to the medallion on the mantel?

Today.  The Reading Room cleared out. 

It’s a shame that there is no photograph of the master bedroom suites or bathrooms.

To see more of the Cheekwood, go HERE. 

The auction catalogue gives a hint of the decorative scheme for the 2017 Swan Ball designed by Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew.

There were 475 floral arrangements created for the dining tables, along with numerous other arrangements created by The Tulip Tree.

Mark Sikes brought along his biggest fans!  Sarah is in white.  These dresses are all gorgeous!  I love the gingham and the red/pink combination which was custom designed by Mark.

The foyer is decorated for the ball.  Notice the skirted table in striped fabric with trim!!!  OMG!!!  To die for!!!  Those flowers!!!

Too pretty for words.

Gorgeous.  The foyer mantel is decorated with masses of flowers and trellis.

The skirted table with blue and white porcelain.

The guests go up the stairs.

Another view.

A beautiful arrangement in the niche at the top of the foyer stairs.

Guests spilled out onto the Wisteria Arbor off the Drawing Room.  More arrangements decorated the arbor which doubled as a bar.

This young couple posed in front of the second staircase decorated with the trellis motif and flowers in a blue and white bowl.

Appetizers and drinks are served in the grand hallway while guests visit the jewelry display in the dining room.

Off the main hall the guests enter the loggia.   The bar/dinner tent is set up on the lawn right past the loggia.

The loggia decorated by Mark and Sarah.  A skirted table in Mark’s signature blue and white fabric.  A grass wall divides part of the loggia off from the guests.  Topiary balls on the skirted table.  Just beautiful!

Close up of the bench and skirted table.

And another view of the loggia.

Past the loggia the doors open to the tent with the gazebo designed by Mark and Sarah.  This is the area where drinks were served.  Beyond is the dining tent.  Notice how they tented the tent (lol!) with Mark’s signature blue and white fabric – and really Sarah’s too!   The gazebo is covered in wisteria – a nod to the famous Wisteria Arbor outside the Cheekwood drawing room!

The view from the tent looking back towards the loggia.

The party is in full swing.  I wonder how many yards of fabric Mark used?  AND I wonder if they are reusing the fabric???

A view from the loggia into the bar tent and further back to the dining tent.

Hand painted wallpaper was used to decorate the back of the bar area.

At the bar – with another handpainted mural.

Curtains! 

The dining tent is a mix of round and rectangular tables.  Chintz fabric skirted the round tables!!!  Round drum chandeliers decorated with greenery.

Another view of the rectangular dining tables skirted in the striped fabric.

Notice how pretty the calligraphy table numbers are.  Rattan votives.  Linen napkins.  Silver mint julep cups.   Very very nice!!!

A mix of flowers at each table.  Just beautiful!!!

A round table, piled with flowers.

A view to the stage at the rear of the tent. 

The stage has a blue and white! checkerboard dance floor – and notice the backdrop:  a huge handpainted chinoiserie mural.  Of course!!  This is Mark after all!

Beside this band, Sheryl Crow entertained.

Dinner. 

Sarah and Mark with this year’s honoree Carolina Herrera.  Her dress!!!

As guests leave – notice the turquoise blue boxes holding topiary!

The décor?

Genius.   Mark and Sarah outdid themselves!!!

Be sure to visit Sarah and Mark’s blogs for more photos.  Mark has already moved on from the ball.  He is now busy decorating the Newport Coastal Living house all in the blue and white and it is, of course, to die for!

A bit of news:

My favorite local decorative store Olivine is having a Summer Sale!!

Helen just got in these darling Mexican dresses for little girls.  So on trend.  Direct from San Miguel de Allende!!!

She has the entire Kai line – which I love!!!

Glasses, kitchen ware, and Turkish towels.

Those white dresses are the cutest!

Summer scarves – tassel wraps!!

Custom made jewelry.

Les Indiennes.  My fave!!

Le Cadeaux Melamine.

Alixx candles from a French family in Miami!  Fabulous scents.

OK.  I LOVE this scarf!!!

Summer Sale – 20% off STOREWIDE (except Jewelry and Mexican dresses!)

PomPom Bedding – 30 percent off!

THROUGH JUNE 17TH!!!!

Don’t live in Houston?  Call Helen!!!!

713-622-7776

2405 Rice Boulevard, Houston, TX 77005

from COTE DE TEXAS http://cotedetexas.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-most-beautiful-ball.html