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thealmightyemprex · 3 months ago

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Fantasy month:Middle Earthathon Part 2 Lord of the Rings 1978

Ah this movie,the first theatrical feature length adaptation of Tolkien .There are a lot of fans who dont like this movie ...I am happy to say I love this films,warts and all.Its an important part of Rings history that folks either goof on or ignore and while I get it , I think there is a lot to love about Ralph Bakshis Lord of the Rings

Also shout out to my friend @the-blue-fairie who is also a fan of this film

In this 1978 film Frodo Baggins (Christopher Guard ) is informed by the Wizard Gandalf (William Squire ) that he has gained posession of the One Ring which is sought by the forces of Mordor , and eventually must partake in a quest o destroy it

So I actually saw this film as a kid.I saw FEllowship of the Ring in theaters and I wanted more Lord of The Rings,but the films werent out on DVD yet ,I was too young for the books ,and to my limited 2001 knowledge there was no other LOTR stuff....Till me and my grandmother went to the local blockbuster and found ......Another version of Lord of the Rings on VHS .I immediately rented it and to my surprise it was an animated film that adapted not only Fellowship but the next book as well the Two Towers ,so I felt like I was getting a sneak peak at what the next film held like Gollum,Treebeard,Gandalfs return,etc .I actually think I might have seen this film sleightly more then the Jackson trilogy (Mainly due to it being shorter )

Now the main thing to point out about the anijmation is it is done through Rotoscope,a process where you take live action refrence footage and draw over it,which can lead to very realistic movement .This films use of it is devisive to say the least .I personally like the rotoscoping it gives the film a unique look thoughI do feel they might have stuck to close to refrence costumes ,when I think they couldve gone a bit more creative ,especially in the creature designs ,cause the orcs legit look like guys in costumes and wow does the Balrog cetainly look like a winged lion guy .I have heard some folks say the character costumes look a bit generic ,but I actually kind of enjoy that asopect ,like I dunno why Boromir is a viking or why Elrond is a Roman Emperor ,but I kind of dig it

So Lord of the Rings has a LOT of characters and I cant go every single member of the cast .The cast consist of several British theater actors (A lot of them having appeared on Doctor Who ,like a majority of the cast was on Doctor Who at some point) and the cast has a few notable names,being who's who of "OH that guy !".....So I am gonna start with the "HEy that guy"s that stood out to me then wrap back around to other primary characters

John Westbrook (Who I know as the REd DEath in Roger Cormans Masque of the Red Death ) makes a brief appearence as Tree Beard ,and I feel his wonderful deep voice fits the character (I have seen a few folks assume hes Christopher Lee but its not,its John Westbrook he just happens to sound a lot like him )

Andre Morell (A very accomplished actor who I mostly know for playing opposite Peter Cushing in Nineteen Eighty Four,Hound of the Baskervilles and Cash on Demand )plays Elrond ,giving a commanding and dignified presence to the elf .SAdly he passed a way shortly after the films release,.....WEird coincidence same also happened to Cyril Richard who played Elrond in the Hobbit

Alan Tilvern (PRobably best known as RK Maroon in Who Framed Roger Rabbit ) plays the Inkeeper and he brings a good nature but also some bumblingness to the role

Annette Crosby (An actress no stranger to fantasy playing the Fairy Godmother in Slipper and the Rose and Granny WEatherwax in Cosgrove Halls adaptation of Terry Pratchett Wyrd Sisters ) is MARVELOUS as Galadrial ,I actually like her a bit more then Cate Blanchett in the Jackson film.I really dig the Pool of Galadrian scene in general and her amused reaction to Fordo offering her the ring

Phillip Stone (A regular of Stanley Kubrick ,most notable for bring the menacing Delbert Grady in the Shinning ) brings a wearyness but also a kingly strength as Theoden ,I think he really does a greta job

David Buck(Who I know for being one of the Skeksis in the Dark Crystal) is a very solid Gimli,not many lines but I like how Gimili is characterized as Buck makes his few lines count.Great animation moment ,is when Gandalf tells Gimli his cousin Blin died,and wordlessly you see the heartbreak on Gimlis face before he wanders off to be alone

Now we get to the four most noteworthy castings:Gollum,Boromir ,Legolas ,and Aragorn .

Legolas is played by Anthony Daniels AKA C3P0 from Star Wars ,in a very rare film apparence that has nothing to do with that frsanchise .Hes also the only actor from the film I have seen discuss the film ,where he discussed his disappointment in Legolas being blonde and how if he had known that he wouldve played it diffrently.....I have no clue what that means .Anyway,I actually like Daniels voice as Legolas ,and I like how friendly he can be whether it is reuniting with Aragorn or his quieter moments with Gimli ,while also working in the serious moments where hes sensing danger

Boromir is played by Michael Graham Cox who I know as Big Wig in my favorite animated film Watership Down .Honestly performance wise ,I think Cox is one of the best ones in the film ,you feel him as a proud warrior who just wants to help his people ,but also his corruption and eventual guilt.His last stand against the orcs is an amazing scenes,it feels grizzly ,and theres a moment where he lets out this kind of warrior scream that has stuck with me .So Cox is really good and I think Brian Selby and the BBC thought so too .....CAuse he played the role again in the excellent 1981 BBC radio version

Peter Woodthorpe best known to me for playing a villainous hypnotist in The Evil of Frankenstein and Old Joe in the George C SCott Christmas Carol,plays Gollum,and like Michael Graham Cox he reprised the role in the BBC production.Gonna be completely hones,I love Woodthropes Gollum .....In the radio production ,I think hes a bit better there,but he also good in the film ,just more subdued but still showcasing his madness.I think hes very creepy and enjoy him both here and in the radio version

And now lets get to the BIGGEST name in the film:legendary actor John Hurt ,who even back then was a name actor and I just gotta say,,,,,He is MY Aragorn ,no9 disrespect to Robert Stephens from the radio production or Viggo Mortensen from the Jackson films who both do a fabulous job as well,but this is one of my favorite performances by Hurt .He exudes sterength,confidence,but also moments of doubt ,be mysetious but has a warmth .When I think of Hurt as an actor I tend to think of victims and villains ,so the fact he had this chance to play a heroic character is pretty awesome and he gets some pretty great line reads favorite being "Then we must do without hope,there is always vengence ! "

I actually dont have much to say about most of the rest of the cast (Simon Chandler and Dominic Guard are pretty decent as Merry and Pippin while Frazer Ker for me is a bit to saturday morning villains as Saruman......Or Aruman,yeah due to executive meddling ,they kep switching from callrng him Saruman and Aruman ) so lets get onto three of the primary characters I havent talked about yet

William Squire is pretty good as Gandalf ,a bit over the top,but I feel one needs to ham it up if your playing a wizard .I do love how he casually flicks the ring in the fire .Will admit I do wish they were able to get their original choice Alan Napier (Who I feel wouldve been a great Gandalf ) ,but Squire is a very good Gandal

Now lets talk about the most hated element in the film....Sam .Michael Scholes plays Sam ,and he plays him very...Comical ,Sams comic relief ,and I dont hate it like other people do but it is a very strange take on Samwise.That said I am curious ,if Bakshi did do a sequel how this Sam would handle the more heroic elements

However if the film does a character really well,,,,,Its Friodo .Christopher Guard delivers on the journey from almost niave to world weary yet having this inner strength .When being chased by the Black Riders ,weak due to a wound ,him standing up against them is very powerful and my heart breaks at his final scene where he discusses for him its just about getting to Mount Doom and not returning .While Ian Holm is my favorite Frodo in the radio production ,Chritopher Guard is a close second and I so wish he got to finish the character arc

I've mentioned a few favorite moments such as the pool of Gladrial and Boromirs last stand but other scenes and elements that I love here are

1.The Black Riders.Of all the villains here,I think they are the most effective ,very creepy and intimidating with the best moment being them attacking the beds (Which Jackson borrowed for his film

2.Boromirs Death ,which is just heart breaking and I especially love the look on Aragorns face

3.Lothlorian ,just seeing the character,even if briefly just relax and bond after the trials in Moria.I especially love Frodo listening to the song about Gandalf and admitting "We knew so little of him in the Shire ,he was just Gandalf to us " and Aragorn assuring him that the old wizard liked of all his names Gandalf the best ,like Awwww thats so sweet !!!!

If I have a complaint ,other then "God I wish Bakshi made part two".....Its that I think the Fellowship of the Ring parts are stronger then the Two Towers parts .Once Boromir dies it does drag a little

That said I love this movie and do reccomend it to fans of the Jackson film or books .I got a soft spot for it

@ariel-seagull-wings @themousefromfantasyland @countesspetofi

@amalthea9 @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa

@barbossas-wench @princesssarisa

#Lord of the rings 1978 #ralph bakshi #fantasy

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hellfireclubmember · 2 years ago

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Secret Nerd PT 2

Someone requested this and I can't find the ask so I am sorry. I'm also sorry for literally taking forever to get to it.

part 1

Summary: Eddie, who may or may not be in love with you, finds out you like LOTR.

Warning(s): lots of steve fluff but eddie angst, unrequited love, not proof read

pairing(s): boyfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader, platonic!in love!eddie munson x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

Siouxsie and the Banshees was softly playing through the dimly lit shop. The stacks of new records were beginning to lose their height as you sorted them out into their appropriate bins. There was dust in the air from the number of bins you were kicking out of the way. Usually there was someone to help you with the heavy lifting, but it was 10 AM on a Tuesday. A time void of customers.

“(Y/N)!!” Eddie’s voice boomed through the store.

There was something almost pathetic about how fast a smile appeared on your face when you heard him. You loved it when Eddie visited you at work. He always made your shift go by at Mach speeds. He helped you on inventory days, walking around holding piles of records all whilst giving you free music advice. Which was really just him complaining about anything you put on the loudspeaker. Because according to the dramatic mop of hair, ‘your music taste would be perfect if you just cut out all the moody, creepy whining.’

“I know you’re in here, short stack! Only you would be playing Siouxsie.” You could hear the eyeroll from across the store.

“Yeah, whatever, act like I haven’t seen you nod your head to Happy House.” You walked onto the main floor where Eddie was sitting on the counter, next to the Madonna cassettes. “Nice of you to come see me, Edward.”

“No need to continue the act, (Y/L/N).” His face was stone cold, eyes blank. Last time he looked that severe, he was being told that Hellfire couldn’t use the theatre room because the basketball team had booked it last second. Not a good day to be around Hellfire’s dungeon master. Mike, Dustin and Lucas avoided him for two days, just to be safe.

“You don’t have to pretend to be friends with me any longer; for I have been told the truth.” He hopped off the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Megadeth graphic plastered on his black tee. “The lady lies.”

“Me lady?” You pointed your finger to your chest, confused as you could be. “I lie?” Brows furrowed as you thought of any fib you might’ve muttered out lately.

“You lie! If we were friends, you would’ve never kept your love for Lord of the Rings from me!” he exclaimed, hand on his forehead. In that moment, the appreciation you had for Eddie’s dramatics had been replaced with a strong urge to kill. You should’ve guessed it though; it had been exactly one day and one night since you had admitted it to Dustin. And Dustin is a HUGE blabber mouth. The boy did not stop.

“Ah, heard about that huh?”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” He rudely mimicked your voice and glared at you. “This entire time, when I was holding stacks of Duran Duran for you, we could’ve been talking about Boromir’s heroic sacrifice.” It was taking everything in Eddie not to crack. He couldn’t stop thinking about how cute you look all pouty. You were all frown lines and crossed arms.

The small crush Eddie had on you seemed to grow at speeds that would leave NASA’s head spinning. When you were first introduced, he didn’t think much of you. Some chick he saw at school occasionally, walking with Nancy or laughing with faceless losers. You were one of the rare people that didn’t move to the other side of the hallway when he walked by, so he definitely remembered you when Dustin was pushing him toward the group. He already knew you were dating Steve, how could he not? ‘Steve’s girlfriend’ was your identifier. And back then, there was nothing he cared less about. Currently it’s something that didn’t let him sleep at night.

Eddie was never sure what love would feel like; and now he knew what both love and heartbreak felt like. Even so, he was never truly sad, not when he could spend time with you like this. The faux vexed look you were forcing onto your face was enough to crush any self-pity swelling in his chest. Besides, he knew that there was no way he had a chance. You loved Steve, and Eddie knew there was no one else you would rather love.

“You would be a Boromir kind of guy.”

Eddie held his hand over his chest as if he were hit with an arrow. “A woman after my own heart.” He fell onto the counter he was previously sitting on.

“Where’s my pretty girl?” The voice of the sandy haired man was heard before he was seen. Eddie watched your eyes light up before you walked around the counter toward the door.

“Hi, Stevie.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. Steve was like a giant, human Xanax. He made every muscle in your body relax, every racing thought slow down. You squeezed him tight and took a deep breath. Steve loved your hugs. You hugged him as if he had gone away for years at a time.

Steve’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he kissed the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“Aw I missed you more, Harrington.” Eddie stood behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was trying his best to look as big as possible. Even if he did know you loved Steve, it did not keep him from messing with him as often as he could.

There was really very little things Eddie could do about the pesky feelings that clawed at his chest when your eyes reached his. He knew that at some point they would slowly fizzle out, like the bubbles in his favorite beer. But for now, he was going to enjoy them. Enjoy looking at you smile, hearing you laugh, rolling your eyes, even putting away those annoying records and cassettes. Even if the image of you stuck to Harrington chunked away at his health. He was used to piecing his heart back together with the scraps of time he could spend with you. Eddie knew what his role was in life and getting the girl wasn’t part of it. It was devastating but his songs had never been better.

You felt Steve’s body tense up. “Man, you’re in here a lot.” He kept a possessive arm around your shoulders. “You wouldn’t want my girl or anything, would you?”

Your head snapped up to look at your boyfriend. That was a really jerky thing to say. Something King Steve would say. Which is what was the most surprising bit, with all the effort Steve put in to distance himself with his asshole high school self. All his other moments of jealousy were pretty tame, cute even. But he was being a jerk to your friend, and it was very upsetting.

Eddie scoffed. “I could never. That would be really dumb of me, right?” He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, his lips placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I bid your farewell, fair maiden. I have dragons to slay and whatnot.”

The sunlight from outside painted the walls of the record store once Eddie opened the door. The second he was out of ear shot you finally spoke to Steve.

“I hate it when you’re like that.” Steve looked over at you when he heard your voice, and your frown was like a shot to the heart. He was no stranger to your cute angry face, but he knew when you were really upset. That frown looks nothing like the one you shoot him when he steals some of your fries. And he knew why you were upset. He was being a douche bag. As he was saying the words, he knew they were very asshole things to say but he couldn’t stop it. Steve couldn’t help how angry Eddie’s heart eyes made him.

“C’mon baby. He was flirting with you.” He tried to reason with you, walking around the counter to where you were counting some cassettes. “He has to know he can’t have you. Even if you’re all nerdy too.”

“Steve, Eddie isn’t a threat to you.” You turned around to face him. “Just cuz we both like..”

“I know. God, I know he’s not. I’m not insecure, sweets.” He put his hand on your right hip. Looking down at you. “I know I was made for you ‘cus there’s no one out there that loves you like I do.” He let go of your hip and found your hand. A perfect fit, but he already knew that. If that thing about an invisible string was true, he knew you were both knotted up together. Like those impossible knots on your necklaces, the ones you have Steve work out for you.

The anger that you felt for Steve dissipated and turned to another familiar feeling. Adoration. Love. Loving Steve has been the easiest thing you have ever done. He made it so easy. With his honey coated words and his pretty pink lips that kiss away all your worries.

“I just wish you would be nice to Eddie. He’s done nothing but be good friend to me.” There was a part of Steve that knew you were right. He was a good friend, not just to you but to multiple of his own friends. But the part of him that knew he was in love with you made him want to pummel Eddie.

“I just hate that he thinks about you the way I do.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “It should be illegal. I should put in a word with Hop, get him arrested or something.” Another kiss on the tip of your nose. “In fact, get every loser that thinks they have a chance with you and through ‘em in jail.” Another kiss to your forehead. He saw the way you were biting back a smile when he pulled away.

“Just please stop being an asshole okay?” His finger found your sides and he started to poke, making you giggle and squirm away.

“If you insist, angel.” His lips pressed to yours for a long kiss.

taglist: @slashersluttt @slurmp69 @sadbitchfangirl @actual-mom-steve-harrington @stylesyourmine @pennyllanne @johnricharddeacy

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie angst #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #joe keery

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ach-sss-no · 3 months ago

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SH liveblog Ch12

First chapter & explanation | Previous chapter

This is the posted summary on AO3:

Summary:

Gollum is reminded of who Faramir is.

This is the summary in my draft:

Summary: Gollum is trying to learn SELF-DEPRECATING COMMENT, but he already knows four moves: Bite, Vise Grip, Nasty Plot, and Splash.

Anyway this is the 'Bad Cop Faramir' chapter

"Sméagol is tired and sore," he groused. Eardwulf or Faelon would have taken that as the polite hint that it was that he wanted to be carried, but the Man leading him around today was a near stranger, and seemed nervous. Actually, it seemed likely that if he tried to pick Gollum up, he might recoil at the cool, moist feel of his skin (offensive!) or try picking him up around the waist (intolerable!) or even drop him (shameful!), or at least, fail to be mindful of the bruising that still troubled his back- and thus, Gollum would not directly ask to be carried. If his hints were not taken, he would leave it at that.

Gollum has bonded with Faelon and Eardwulf offscreen since we last saw them.

I dimly recall choosing the word 'moist' on purpose after hearing somewhere that people find the word 'moist' unpleasant

Gollum is being brought to have a chat with Boromir and now Faramir, whom Gollum fails to recognize.

[Faramir speaking] "No doubt that displeased you. Is it fair to suggest that you would deal with anyone who 'jumped' you in like manner?" "I-" Gollum fell silent. He felt a sudden, strong impression that there would be swift and immediate consequences to any lie he told, even a polite one.

Faramir establishes dominance immediately with very little effort.

"I may say," said Boromir, "lest we think we are too unequal, when I first laid eyes on the Ringbearer and his companions, I thought them an indistinguishable mass of curly-headed little people, and could not have told them apart more than I could tell one leaf from another on a tree." "But they looks nothing alike," said Gollum, a bit scandalized. "Certainly not Sam!"

Personal enmity notwithstanding, this was intended as 'Sam is the only one of the set of hobbits that's not a family relation to the others, and also has a different upbringing/background and therefore would presumably look noticeably different in some way to someone with the requisite cultural background to notice that difference' and is not a dig at Sam's appearance

Faramir says he knows Gollum must be tired of being asked questions and offers to let Gollum ask them instead.

Faramir is being perfectly polite and calm but still gives off an impression of effortless, unquestionable control over this encounter. To me.

This is book Faramir. I feel like I should mention that.

Oh, and although I cut the bit from last chapter where Gollum freaks out after Boromir leaves, I apparently left in a reference to that (and just let it be something we didn't see)

"I should hope you are not planning to cause problems. But there may be something you cannot help. You may fall ill, or you may have some need that must be seen to, something that those who are caring for you need help with." Gollum eyed him. Yesterday he had woken up in a panic in the middle of the afternoon after having a nightmare, and been violently sick- which had very much upset his keepers- and now he naturally wondered if Faramir knew about this and intended a criticism. Of course Gollum could not help having nightmares or being ill, but he often felt as if he were punished for the things he could not help and got away with the nasty things he intended to do.

I cannot imagine Faramir would use that as a passive-aggressive dig. Gollum is showing off his own disordered thinking.

In any case Gollum had better make a good impression. He looked over his hands- they were clean enough, he thought.

Ah yeah here's more 'Gollum is finicky about cleanliness but only by peculiar standards of his own'

Faramir now reveals how he and Gollum know each other.

"Yes. The King has since pronounced that you may walk freely as long as you do no harm and follow the same rules everyone else must abide by. His authority supersedes any directions I have given concerning you." So Gollum was at Faramir's mercy but only so far as his choices didn't conflict with what Aragorn wanted, which was a bit like being a fish lying flapping on the ground instead of the fish torn open and half-eaten.

That's the Gollum version of 'out of the frying pan into the fire' I guess

"As you may now remember, I distrusted you greatly. I tried to dissuade Frodo from traveling with you any farther, but he would not listen." He looked contemplative. "I wonder very much what would have happened if I had had my way." Gollum fell to tugging at his too-short sleeves and fidgeting. "There wouldn't be any Sméagol anymore now," he said. "That's what would have happened, if he's wondering."

I don't think that's Faramir's biggest concern

"Indeed you would be dead without Frodo's intervention," said Faramir. "But he did intervene, and you are alive. I did you no harm." His thugs had nearly broken Gollum's neck, chucking him about like a wadded-up fishnet, but Frodo had made it clear that Gollum wasn't allowed to resent that.

~Fun Fact~ in the BBC radio play of LOTR (the one with Ian Holm as Frodo!) when Gollum's being arrested by the waterfall, Frodo is saying 'don't hurt him' and you faintly hear Gollum yelling 'They ARE! They ARE!'

tinyviolin.jpeg

"You scorned me as unjust, when I told you your life was at stake," said Faramir. "And when I heard your words, I spared you.

~THE TWO TOWERS by JOLKIEN ROLKIEN ROLKIEN TOLKIEN chapter 6 THE FORBIDDEN POOL~`We are lost, lost,' said Gollum. 'No name, no business, no Precious, nothing. Only empty. Only hungry; yes, we are hungry. A few little fishes, nasty bony little fishes, for a poor creature, and they say death. So wise they are; so just, so very just.' 'Not very wise,' said Faramir. 'But just: yes perhaps, as just as our little wisdom allows. Unloose him Frodo! '

The movies did not include any of that, and I am so normal about that decision

"Is he Master's friend?" he asked finally. "Frodo?" Faramir asked. "I hope he counts me as such. He claims so, but he is a beautifully tactful creature and I suspect it is difficult to meet him and not feel that he is a friend. For my part, I would do anything for him." "Well," Gollum said helplessly, "I'll have to make nice with him too, then." O, Lady of Hunger, don't let us have to make nice with Elves, he thought desperately, but Shelob could not hear him and must not be powerful enough to grant such things, if Sam could stab Her and make Her run away, and also She was not very fond of Sméagol now. "Are you praying?" Faramir asked. "No," Gollum said quickly. "I suppose that is your private business.

Faramir uses his mind seeing powers to come this close to finding out about the demon spider worship.

"You may ask a question now, if you'd like." The question Gollum most wanted to ask as May Sméagol leave now and never talk to Faramir again? but he knew that would not go over well. "Might Sméagol have some nice cold water?" he asked finally. When there was no immediate response from the Men, he went on to say: "It is a question," and then "We are thirsty," in case they thought he was joking. His mouth was incredibly dry.

Again! Again with the water. But it backfires on Gollum a little because Boromir is the one to leave the room to get the water and as soon as he leaves Faramir ratchets up the interrogation

Faramir leaned forward. "Look at me." Trembling, Gollum did so. Faramir's eyes were as pale as the Moon and as judgmental. O yes. I remember him now, Gollum thought.

According to stuff in Unfinished Tales or HoME or- I don't know. I saw it referenced in a Tumblr post and haven't read the source- but Faramir's mind voodoo requires consent and I saw someone go 'but he used it on Gollum' and Gollum actually does (nonverbally) consent by making eye contact and maintaining it (in canon) (and again here). He later looks away, revoking consent, and the connection breaks.

I can't find that post now to jump in with the 'BUT DID YOU KNOW???' about Gollum so I'm slamming it down here instead

Faramir uses his lie detection eye contact powers to get a quick round of honest answers out of Gollum. I think part of the rationale for this is that now Gollum is trying to re-enter society and doesn't want to just sit in a room and eat fissh, it's no longer sufficient to just say 'Well he destroyed the Ring so we'll give him food and not kill him' and leave it there

"Do you want to do any harm to Boromir?" "No," said Gollum. "we don't, even though he made me come and talk to you, gollum

"I have heard you are much stronger than you appear. Do you think yourself capable of killing someone my size and strength?" "Yes," Gollum said, feeling as if the words were being pulled out of him. [But he doesn't want to, he says]

Boromir returned with a cup of water. "What has happened in my absence?" he asked, blinking. [Gollum is sitting there crying quietly] "I asked him a few simple questions," said Faramir. "He found them unpleasant, but I do not think them unfair." "I do not think he could tolerate a complicated question," said Boromir.

Gollum leaves the room. Faramir asks him if he would like to go back on his own without an escort, and Gollum accepts- this is a sign of trust on Faramir's part that Gollum doesn't pick up on.

Once out of the room, he paused to listen. The brothers were speaking to each other in low voices, but they used the other language that he heard at times in the city. Gollum had not had the opportunity or the desire to learn much of it, but he thought he had guessed the phrase hui úan to mean monster; he listened for this term now and did not hear it.

I don't think I was able to find any direct statements from canon that Boromir speaks Sindarin (the Gondorian version) but I find it really difficult to imagine him not being able to speak at least enough to have a short convo with Faramir. It may not be his preferred language but there's no way that the brothers would talk about Gollum in Westron when they know full well he is right outside the room unsupervised and is notorious for spying on people.

BUT I did try out a draft where their conversation is included. I decided in the end that they would decide it was more sensible to just use Sindarin and not let him hear, but this is what they're saying:

---Cut portion--- "What is your opinion on Sméagol?" Boromir asked. "I know his manner is abrupt, but it would hardly be fair to expect social niceties, under the circumstances. Actually there are some points in which he is more polite than some Men I have known." "'Abrupt' is a soft word for his manner. Your heart is more tender towards him than I fear he has earned." "He is so frail to my eyes that I suppose I feel as though he requires a great deal of gentleness. Does he not seem so to you?" "He is hardier than he seems. And what he requires may not be what he deserves, which I am given to understand is the main difficulty of dealing with the creature. But he is indeed changed. Mithrandir was correct, he has lost the capacity for evil that he once had. Unfortunately- he cannot regain certain other things he has lost." "He is wretched," Boromir said. "I hope he will not always be so. The knowledge of wrongs done that cannot be righted is a terrible thing." "I hope you do not count yourself like him," said Faramir. "Are we not alike in some small way? Not in looks or stature, I grant you. But he was not always as he is. And I would not have remained as I am, had things been different." "I did not know him before he was changed, but I suspect that Sméagol in his youth was more like the Gollum creature than he was ever like Boromir." "I do not doubt it, as even now he is more like a halfling than like a man, mainly to his benefit- yet we have some weakness in common that unites us." "Perhaps. But in you that weakness is a small part of your nature, that you have conquered. In Sméagol's nature, it is nearly the whole." A slight pause, then: "I judge he is listening to us, brother." Gollum sucked in air through his teeth. "Is he?" Boromir said. "I have said nothing I would not allow him to hear." "And I have said nothing he does not know," said Faramir. --/cut portion--

Back to the posted version. Gollum goes off to his room. There is a guard at the top of the stairs en route to Gollum's room.

He paused, wondering if it would be remarked on that Gollum was wandering about on his own. [...] No remark came. He doesn't see us at all, does he, Gollum reflected. [...] He slipped past without advertising his presence.

Gollum hangs out in the room a little bit. Someone brings him a meal.

This Man did not speak to him or watch him while he ate, but stood off by himself looking out the window as if he wished he could be somewhere else. [...] Gollum lingered over his food longer than he usually did, as he did not feel up to the effort of chewing it, even though it tasted good and he was hungry. He soon noticed that the Man was restless and impatient. Gollum was in no mood to hang around with someone who was merely tolerating him. "I'm only half done," he said. "You can go if you wants, I don't need help, and someone else can take the plate." The Man silently nodded, and he left. He did seem happy to get out of there.

I wanted to be clear that not everyone thinks he's cute lmao

Gollum starts talking to himself. I think this might be the only time in the fic he does the full-on self debate out loud. Faramir really upset him lol

"He made us feel small and dirty, looking at us as if we was something on his shoe. We did nothing, didn't even want to talk to him!" "But- he only asked questions." "He asked such nasty questions." "No. They were fair questions, but they had such nasty answers," he wept, "and they was my answers." "But he doesn't need to remind us, it doesn't do us any good to kick us like that," and yet in a strange way Gollum almost felt as if the encounter had done him some good; he felt better, in the unpleasant way that throwing up sometimes made him feel better when he'd eaten something that made him sick. "Don't want to talk to him again," he said, and on that he was in agreement with himself.

Gollum finishes his food, gets bored, and goes to investigate the guard out in the hall. (First he goes and finds out his favorite hoodie has been washed, mended and returned after he wore it in the sewer. Aww?)

Gollum actually makes an effort to look presentable before going and introducing himself to a stranger.

He could tell that the tunic he wore was loose in the sleeves and too tight in the shoulders, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He's wearing hand-me-downs. I was operating under the assumption that Gollum would have broader shoulders (he's an adult and a big chungus stoor hobbit) and thinner limbs (he's gollum) than the average Gondorian child his height.

With a dissatisfied growl he finally steeled himself up to open the door. It was not locked. He was still a little bit reluctant to actually go over the threshold out into the hall. His reticence annoyed him, and he firmly told himself that Gandalf was not waiting out there to swoop in and set his britches on fire.

I forgot how much of a Thing this door was. Do you get it. THEMES. do you get it. IMPRISONMENT. themes.

So Gollum goes out there and meets the only obvious joke OC in the fic.

The guard wore an eyepatch, and a curved bit of wood stuck out the end of his left sleeve instead of a hand. It was hard to judge the ages of Men, particularly since 'old' meant something rather different to Gollum than it did to most people, but he had white hair. He was not a large Man, nor was he heavily built. He was playing with dice by the light of a candle, looking quite at home, and quite unaware he was being watched. Gollum looked around. For the umpteenth time he wondered if someone was playing a joke on him somehow; this Man could not have kept him from going anywhere he might have wanted to go. Gollum could have killed him on the spot without much trouble.

Sometimes I get caught up in the inner monologue and forget about the murder thing until I get to 'gollum could have killed him without much trouble'

Anyway Gollum introduces himself, which is only slightly awkward.

"I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see you," said the Man. "He is here to keep us from going out, isn't he, eh? So if we never comes out of the room at all he's doing his job very well." "Oho! A wit," said the Man. "I am Suilorion, son of Suilor." A wit? Sméagol wasn't joking, thought Gollum.

'Suilorion' means 'son of Suilor'. It's supposed to be a 'Montgomery Montgomery' style name

It's a family tradition. His son was named Suilorionion.

Gollum's new self-awareness and desire to make a good impression has made him a little stumbly and shy.

"I have been passt you before," said Gollum, "or someone else that sits there, and I saw someone was there, and I didn't know him, so I just thought- well, then- I should see who it is, if someone is sitting by my room we should know who it is, precious, and now I have seen who it is, and it is you. Sssuloron, sssson of- Sssssulor, gollum."

He's also having trouble pronouncing the name with all the sibilants lol

Ah- and as for being here to keep you from going out, I am not!" "No?" "No," said Suilorion. "If I see that you are venturing towards the stairs, my instructions are to ask you politely not to go out alone. And if you insist on going, I am to say: 'Very well, but the King must be notified that you have left', and then if you still go out alone I must notify him! But I am not to raise a hand against you or block you from leaving and for that I am glad, for my fighting days are over!" [...] But, he wondered, don't they think we're... dangerous? They should. We are dangerous, we can be, anyway. But then Gandalf is much more dangerous than Sméagol, and Gandalf has the run of the place.

This is - this is actually true of Gandalf. I think we just can all expect Gandalf not to murder people (he'll just send you on a life changing mission that affects the fate of the world)

Gollum sits down to chat a little with Suilorion. It seems he's now shifted his worldview to acknowledge Men as people who can fill a need for companionship.

Gollum scratched at the underside of his chin. "So you just sits here in case I wanders out? Hour after hour, night after night, all by his lonely self, he sits, and we never come out at all?" "Ah," said the Man, "I am also here to make sure no one disturbs you! I have been told to turn aside anyone who comes here out of curiosity to get a look at you.

"Eh, does he do anything else?" "There is a certain halfling I am meant to keep away from you, in fact," said Suilorion. "Ah. In fact, I was instructed to tell you about it, if I saw you! [...] "Told him to keep away the older hobbit with the green cloak, was it?" "Yes, that was it!" He did not ask why, and did not even seem curious. If Bilbo really wanted to visit Gollum, which likely he would not, he would have no trouble at all getting by Suilorion unnoticed; Bilbo was as silent as a shadow and certainly clever enough to note that Suilorion was blind on one side, and stick to that side when passing him

Interesting that Gollum hears 'Bilbo Baggins is banned from your Minecraft server' and his first thought is not 'why?' but 'he is a hacker, what is the point of banning him anywhere'

Your people call him Gandalf, I have heard." Of course it was Gandalf, Gollum thought, and he chewed on the rest for a minute before saying: "I have no people." He decided not to argue the point of whether or not he was a halfling. "I am not from the Shire. My family is all dead and gone, many long years, and before they was gone they told me they did not want me. Sméagol has no people. But he knows the name Gandalf. Did Gandalf say why Baggins can't come?" "No," said Suilorion. "Sss. That is no matter, no matter." There were many reasons why Gandalf would want Bilbo to be kept away

suilorion: oh mithrandir is gandalf gollum: my parents are dead

They discuss Suilorion's missing hand (orcs got it) and his age (older than Boromir, younger than Gollum) and then someone shows up.

A youngish person appeared with a pitcher of water. He saw Gollum and looked startled.

I see Men are people now. Gollum doesn't identify the shift (he's not aware of it, I would think), but I'm guessing it happened when Boromir told him about the Ring and it was solidified when he was wandering Minas Tirith.

This is supposed to be the same guy who sorta defended Gollum to Aragorn a few chapters ago ('he only bites when people grab at him without consent it's ok i swear'), though I don't think I ever identify him as such. Gollum just wouldn't have that information.

"This is Ssui- Sui- the man who sits here," said Gollum, "he said we might sit with him, but we can go back now, if they would like us to. Yes, Sméagol will go to his room and have a drink of water, beautiful fresh water, nice water." He scrambled back towards his room before anything could be said about it, and once there had a bit of trouble opening the door- I have gone and locked Sméagol out of it! he thought numbly. Whyever did they put me in a room I can lock? -but it was not locked, he was only pulling on the door when he ought to be pushing on it, probably because he had only ever opened it from the inside before.

Gollum is still thoroughly in 'prisoner' mode I see

There's some awkward chitchat with this guy (he reiterates that Gollum is allowed to go out in the hallway if he wants to)

As the boy started to walk out the door Gollum called, in a quavering voice, "What's his name?" "I beg your pardon?" "What is your name, please, eh? If you, if you doesn't mind?" "I am terribly sorry if I failed to introduce myself." "You did, maybe. Sméagol may have forgot your name." "I am Maeron." "Your name is what?" Gollum shrieked.

heh

"Maeron," the youth said, slowly stepping away. "It means 'poet'." "Ach," said Gollum, "Yes yes! That is what it means." He'd never heard the name before, and didn't know why it had sounded familiar for a second.

And that's basically the end of the chapter.

I see an ending author's note:

The names in this chapter are taken from the very helpful website realelvish.net: https://realelvish.net/names/sindarin/gondor/people/occupation/ (That's also the website where I took a guess at the Sindarin word for 'monster') I'm so proud of Sméagol for reaching a level of social awareness where he wants to learn the names of people in a setting with a whole culture and language and set of naming conventions that I must now learn well enough to pretend to have a passing competency in.

Yeah I'll still claim all of that

There's an extra piece of Faramir's interrogation in the draft that I sniped for being too edgy. Here it is, broken up at random to avoid the text block limit.

"I do want to help Boromir," he said, and inhaled sharply- he felt as if something was prodding at him. "Why? Why? Because he has been kind to me, and the Master would wish it, and we are- tired of being in 'civilized' places- I am not tame- I want to climb and creep and hunt. And sneak." This last was said with disdain, though he could not have said towards whom.

"If you wish to hunt," said Faramir, "another avenue can be found. It is known to us that you cleared a house of mice when you were in the city. Such things could be useful. If we allow you to hunt mice and rats in other places, will you lose interest in helping us fight orcs?" Gollum hesitated, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves, which were too short. "No. Does the Men want us to hunt mices instead?" "I am only asking," said Faramir, "to try to discern whether you will shy from the danger if your desire to hunt has a different outlet." "No. We hates orcs. They hurt us… and they hurt our Master, and they are wretched and filthy, and all they do is hurt, and the Men is giving them what they deserve- yes- and I can dish it out with them, if they'll let me." He began to fretfully rub his hands together. Faramir's gaze was like cold needles into his heart. He forced himself to look up to meet those terrible eyes. Just like the eyes of an Elf. "Revenge, then," said Faramir. Gollum looked reproachfully at Boromir. Boromir shifted in his seat and said: "After what he suffered at the hands of orcs, is it not natural for him to want revenge?" Revenge, revenge, Gollum thought, only- I have had my chance at orcs before- under my nice little mountain, where I took them as it suited us, in the dark, with Precious- perhaps they might want revenge? But I- I did not torture them. He covered his eyes, avoiding Faramir. "Is there something else?" Faramir asked.

"No. No. I don't want to eat the orcses," said Gollum. "No one said you did," said Boromir, blinking. "Good, good!" Gollum squeaked. He wrung his hands. "Is there anything else, eh? Sméagol is happy to help, but he does get weary, he is not young." "I have a question that you have been asked before," said Faramir, "but the King thought there might be use in your being asked again, and in fact I would like to see how you answer. Why did you destroy the Ring?" Gollum took a sharp breath as if he had been injured. "I hated It!" he snarled, then he gave a little gasp, and covered his mouth. "Mithrandir thought so," said Boromir. "But he was much surprised that the hatred overcame your need for it." "It hurt my master," Gollum said in a tiny voice. Faramir considered him. "You care for Frodo more than the Ring?" Boromir asked.

Gollum gave a little cry- the thought was somehow obscene and yet- yet it seemed right. "I must. Mustn't I? I did throw it away," said Gollum, feeling dizzy. "It is gone. I wants it, I misses it," he began to weep, "but I don't want to miss it. I, I am tired of being sick and pale with pining for- for- that. The Master always goes away and leaves us, he does! But he is so warm, he… he is soft…" Faramir did not speak. He only looked. Before his gaze Gollum was a crushed insect, a fly without wings, a flayed fish, a goblin-imp squeaking for its life while long white hands impatiently groped for its neck "I led them to the Spider!" Faramir said nothing. "O I planned it!" Gollum cried. "I planned it for days! It was in my head when you saw me. Yes, it was! But he was so kind, the nice Master, his face all full of light, it- was- nice- light. I cannot look at any other light. Not now- gollum!" He was a rat with a thumbnail gouged into its throat. "I will take him safe," said Gollum. "Nassty old Spider, she is wicked, she isn't nice to me. I'll take them through nicely through the tunnel. It's the same one we goes through. She cannot fit, She is fat. But She was there waiting at the end. Yes! Yes, She was there! She was in wait because I told her there was food. For I have brought Her food before. Such nice food. Gollum, gollum, gollum! Why did She follow me? Why didn't She wait for me where She should have, the old pig!" He was a strangled cat, with something sitting above his broken corpse, pulling out bones and entrails to examine them at leisure. "And She hurt him, and his Sam fought for him. The orcs took him away, they hurt him, hurt him. We could do nothing. Sam is very good and I am not, gollum! O how I hate that sound! Gollum! Now the Master has scars on his back that match ours, and that is evil. It is wicked, gollum, gollum, and I can do nothing!" He was a spider ground into dust beneath a bare, flat heel. "Vile orcs! Nasty dirty wicked creatures, gollum! I hate them. I hate Her. If only my hands could fit about Her throat!" He subsided into weeping, and the Men waited for him to finish. "You are not lying," said Faramir. "You are many other things, but today you are not dishonest. As for the spider- that is business for another day." Gollum blotted his eyes on his sleeve. "They're not surprised," he said, sounding tired to himself. "You were nearly lost," said Faramir. "I see a hair's breadth stood between you and the fires of Doom." Gollum saw it all over again in his mind's eye. I almost chose this. I almost caused it. I did cause it! I failed him. I told Her to look for hobbits. It was too late. Evil, demented Sméagol! There is nothing left but to serve the Master even if I dry to dust in the pits of Mordor, and if he is dead I must serve his Sam, even if he hates me and even if he decides he'll beat me like a dog when the Master isn't there to stop him, o wicked creature I am! But Sam had not beaten him. Nor had he accepted the offer when Gollum had brought up that there was no food or water on the way to Orodruin and- well- perhaps- well, poor Sméagol was skin and bone, he was, but bones had marrow, and perhaps the nice hobbits- they must be hungry by now, and they didn't need a guide anymore- Sam had told him to stop talking. And then he had helped Gollum survive… "Do you wish to atone?" asked Faramir. "Can't." "No?" Gollum fidgeted and said nothing.

"You think your sins are too great to pay for," said Faramir. "It is not given to me to absolve you or offer comfort; I do not have the authority and I do not know all you have done or planned to do. I suspect that today I have only seen a fragment of it. But I will not dissuade you from doing whatever good you can." His tone grew businesslike. "If you do this task for us, you yourself will do no killing. You will only see what is there and report to us. Do you still wish to do it?"

"O yes!" "You will not twist your mission to your own purpose of revenge?" "Men will do the killing," said Gollum, softly, crooning to himself. "They are much better at it, yes. They hack and tear and rend with steel, and make blood, blood everywhere, and they are not even hungry." "That is what you think of Men?" Faramir asked. He betrayed no expression, but Boromir looked shocked. "I promise you," he injected, "that is not how my brother and I conduct ourselves." Gollum said nothing. "He has seen much," said Faramir. He turned to Boromir. "I am satisfied that his intentions are such that he can be trusted to perform the service he offers, although I suspect he may try to slay orcs, whether it is agreed on or no." "He may slay as many orcs as he likes if it doesn't compromise our operation," said Boromir. "He may attempt to eat them," said Faramir in a neutral tone. "I find that unpleasant, and I hope he will not do it," said Boromir. "We will not!" Gollum screeched. "That is good," said Boromir. "Even if he were to do it, Faramir, I see no reason to keep him from offering us what aid he can on that account. To be perfectly honest I have no particular need of uneaten orcs. But is he able to do it, Faramir? He seems miserable and weak and I feel as if it would be cruel of me to make him work." "I have not known Sméagol long and it is possible for me to misjudge him," said Faramir, "but he was also quite honest when he said he was not tame. I don't think captivity suits him, and I would not take his current misery for his general constitution." Gollum sniffled. "I have heard enough from him," said Faramir. He glanced at Boromir. "You are dismissed, Sméagol," said Boromir. "I thank you for your cooperation."

#fic: schrödinger's hobbit #I think gollum is a dark/water type

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treesandwords · 2 years ago

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For anyone who's into LOTR I am rereading (again) and took notes on the weirdest/most interesting bits this time:

There are/were other magic rings beside the main ones, which is part of what makes it so hard for other characters to believe that Bilbo's ring is actually The ring

At one point Tolkien jumps into the POV of a random fox walking by our protagonists' camp and then never brings it up again, no big deal

The ever-controversial Tom Bombadil has several other names we just never talk about? And the elves (at least in Rivendell) know about him and have known about him for many years now

They also consider giving him the ring but ultimately decide it would be a bad idea because "he'd probably just lose it"

A lot of what happens to Frodo after he's been stabbed by the Nazgul is less symptomatic of dark magic and more of just...having a severe shoulder injury?? Like "oh no my hand is numb and I'm weak and can't move it, must be the evils of Mordor" bro you probably just have nerve damage and blood loss

Bilbo straight up writes and sings a song about Elrond's dad in front of him and a bunch of other elves in Rivendell like. The audacity.

There's a river called "Wetwang" (yes it's called Nindalf in Elvish, but that's not important here)

Aragorn never tells anyone else that Boromir admitted to trying to take the ring, it's implied he even keeps it secret from Gandalf once he reappears

The "Two Towers" actually refers to Orthanc and Minas Morgal, not Orthanc and Barad-Dur as the films suggest

Eomer has met and possibly was friendly with Boromir

Also Aragorn, who doesn't look that old, straight up tells Eomer he'd met both his father and Theoden when they were younger and he just...has zero reaction?? Like if a guy who looked not much older than me wisely said "ah yes, I met your father and uncle long ago" in a way that implied they'd worked together as somewhat equals I'd be. A little uncertain to say the least.

Oh and he also hung out with Denethor back in the day

Eomer and Gimli have a running disagreement on whether or not Galadriel is real, and if so, how hot she is

This is common ish knowledge but there are elements of actual Old English embedded into Rohan's worldbuilding (esp. the names/ "Rohrric" language) and the whole location is genuinely just Tolkien's fantasy version of Anglo-Saxon Britain. He is very not subtle about it.

Saruman was FULLY RUNNING DRUGS BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE SHIRE AND ISENGARD

And this actually ends up contributing to a main plot in the third book

Instead of the Palantir falling out of Saruman's pocket when he dies like in the movie, Gandalf shoots a spell at Saruman and makes him run back inside Orthanc and Wormtongue chucks the Palantir down at him from the window in retaliation

I know the potato scene is *iconic* but let's be real the fact that Sam risks a fire and takes the time to make a full rabbit stew plus seasoning while they're on a dangerous secret mission to sneak into the Darkest Of Dark Lords' fortress is kind of hilarious

Minas Morgul is some serious eldritch horror cryptid shit

Denethor is honestly such drama queen. Like I know he's supposed to be a threatening and tragic character but holy shit.

Also the entire houses of healing segment is unintentionally comedic

Like between the old lady who runs the house giving absolutely zero fucks, and the herb master and Aragorn having a mini nerd off about what Athelas/Kingsfoil is called in different languages, and also Aragorn and Pippin roasting Merry - who has JUST woken up from an Evil Coma by the way - about not being able to find his weed

"This weed is better than I thought" -- actual quote by Ioreth re: kingsfoil

This is something I noticed that a lot of people don't mention - the "Evenstar" that Arwen gives Aragorn in the movies that's tied to her lifeforce/immortality isn't really a thing in the books. The closest to it is this green brooch that she gives him via Galadriel in FOTR - but the only necklace she gives to anyone is actually to Frodo, as a token that basically means if he ever wants to go to the Grey Havens (as he ultimately does) he'd essentially be taking her place because she isn't going

Ok the scouring of the Shire is pretty common knowledge but are we going to talk about Lotho Sackville-Baggins became Saruman's dealer and helped smuggle drugs pipeweed into Isengard (see I told you it would come back)

Also!! Lotho was possibly EATEN by Grima Wormtongue, or at the very least Saruman believes he was, yes this is an actual canon thing

Legit quote from ROTK: "Worm killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss. Didn't you, Worm? Stabbed him in his sleep, I believe. Buried him, I hope; though Worm has been very hungry lately[]"

Seriously what the fuck

Saruman is killed by Wormtongue (who is then shot by a bunch of Hobbit archers) and promptly....disintegrates?

Anyway if you're a casual fan who's only seen the movies, or if you haven't read the books in a while, I'd highly recommend.

#lotr #lord of the rings #books #writing #reading

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middleearthpixie · 2 years ago

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Promise Me ~ Chapter Thirteen

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

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

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

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

Previous chapters can be found here.

When Ioreth finally finished, Boromir let out a gusty sigh of relief. The throbbing slowly faded into memory, the sharp sting hot on its heels and when she passed him a towel, he did not hesitate to swipe the sweat from his forehead. “Do I need worry about this again?”

She shook her head. “I do not think so, no. We will keep an eye on it, same as I’ve been doing.”

“I’d rather not have these stitches opened again if we can avoid it.”

“Take care then, and hopefully, we won’t.” She passed him his tunic. “So, I understand you and the tavern keeper’s daughter have become quite close.”

He paused, half into the shirt as he said, “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you think I did not know?”

He pulled it completely over his head and emerged to find her offering up a knowing look. “Know what? Gabby and I have been friends since we were children.”

“You are children no longer, though.”

“Ioreth,” he held her stare easily, “just say whatever it is you are thinking.”

“My lord, are you being careful?”

“Careful?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you take me for a fool, Boromir? Think me so old that I know not what happens between men and women when they are no longer children?”

“I think this line of questioning is silly.”

“I know she spent at least one night with you and someone told me they’d seen you leaving her family’s tavern this morning. So, I ask again, are you being careful?”

He sighed softly, lacing his tunic as he shook his head. “No, actually. I’ve not been careful with her at all.”

“Boromir.”

At one time, the note of disappointment in her voice would have had his defenses up, his hackles raised. But this time, he bit back a grin as a hint of color appeared along her sharp cheekbones. “What?”

“You are not a boy any longer. Surely you know—”

“Trust me, I am well aware of what the consequences could be. And they do not trouble me.”

“Would they trouble her, though?”

“I don't know. She’s voiced no concerns to me.” The sting in his chest faded completely, thankfully.

“Would she be comfortable doing so?”

“I think so, yes. She and I have known long enough where I think she would be more than comfortable with asking me to make certain I took precautions.”

“You should speak with her about it. To be sure.”

He sighed, sinking back into his chair. “I do not think I would be upset, if she were to become pregnant, Ioreth.”

“Ah, but how does she feel?”

He offered up a sheepish smile. “Don’t all women want babies?”

She did not smile back. “No, they don’t. And do not be a man who sees women only as mothers, for you will be selling her short if she has no desire to have children. You may be in for a rude awakening, should you desire them while she does not. Remember, she has been running her parents’ tavern on her own for some time now, and has done so smoothly. She may not wish to give that up.”

“But, that was before. Now that peace should be returning, so will those who sought refuge elsewhere.”

“You don't know that. Many may choose not to return.” Ioreth’s iron gray brows pulled low. “Talk to her. Make certain you both want the same things. And do so before you think to take her to bed again.”

He sighed softly, raking a hand through his hair. “Of course.”

“She is a lovely girl, you know. And I believe your father would have approved of your match with her.” Ioreth’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, her touch almost maternal. “When you first returned, she wouldn’t leave your bedside for any longer than was absolutely necessary and she drove me and my staff mad with all of her questions and her insistence on being kept updated with your progress.” Ioreth offered up one of her rare smiles. “I do believe she loves you, Boromir.”

He smiled then and nodded slowly. “I do not deserve her, Ioreth. It is a mystery to me why a woman like her would care for me at all.”

“Nonsense. You are a good man, Boromir. Do not sell yourself short, either.”

The truth lingered at the tip of his tongue but he held back. He’d known Ioreth since he was a boy and he trusted her as if she was family, but even so, this was not something he was at all proud of doing.

“I’ll make sure to speak with Gabby,” he said as he rose. “And I will keep an eye on my wounds.”

“And you will come to me to let me keep an eye on them as well,” she told him sternly.

He moved the door, where he nodded. “Of course.”

When no further lecture was forthcoming, Boromir left the Houses of Healing and made his way down to his apartment, his thoughts far weightier than he’d expected them to be.

In truth, he’d given very little thought to being careful where Gabby was concerned. It wouldn’t be long before they were married and no one would think twice, should a child arrive less than nine months after. After all, they would hardly be the first couple expecting when they took their vows.

Still, he had to admit, he’d not given any serious thought to whether or not Gabby might want children to begin with. They’d never discussed it. He’d told her he wanted to have children with her, but aside from commenting that she’d never heard him mention such things, she gave no opinion on the matter either way. So, he simply assumed that if she became pregnant, she would bear the baby.

But what if she had no desire to have children at all?

And did he want children?

He paused, his hand hovering over the handle of his apartment door. Yes. He did.

Or did he?

The truth was, despite what he’d told Gabby, he’d not given it more than a passing thought for himself, either. He’d always assumed his would be a bachelor life. A dalliance here and there, perhaps, but he hadn’t met any women he wished to build a life with, so children were no more than a fleeting thought when he’d see someone else with their offspring.

The door opened without a sound, the silence that greeted him as loud as thunder, and yet softer than his own thoughts.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized, yes, he’d like to have children with Gabby. They would be older than most of the new parents in Minas Tirith, but truth be told, the thought of having a child with her was one that made him smile. He rather liked the idea of a little one bursting into their room far earlier than should be allowed, liked the idea of a little one who looked to snuggle with them. Rather liked the idea of passing his own knowledge on to his son or his daughter. He recalled the dream he’d had, the one of him teaching his son how to weld a sword while a pregnant Gabby watched and encouraged them both, recalled how it felt to lift that boy in his arms and hold him close.

It reminded him of how Denethor had been in the days before Boromir’s mother, Findullas died. Patient. Kind. Loving. That all died when Findullas did. Boromir had been ten when that happened and from that point on, gone was the loving, smiling, adoring father he and Faramir had known. In his place was left a scowling angry man who saw his older son as everything a boy should be while his younger son was, in his eyes, a disappointment. Faramir was a dreamer, always eager to sit at Gandalf’s knee and listen raptly to the wizard’s tales and legends. Although he trained as a soldier alongside Boromir, Faramir did not have what their father saw as the killer instinct. He was gentle, with children, animals, anything he saw as weaker than him and in need of protection. And to Denethor, his was not how a man presented himself.

Perhaps he’d always felt that way toward Faramir and Findullas made certain her youngest never knew the truth. All Boromir knew was that as the years passed and Denethor made no secret of his comparison of his sons, made no secret of the fact that Boromir was far and wide the favored son, and Faramir was the disappointment.

Faramir knew it as well and when he realized his brother had figured it out, Boromir stepped up, made certain Faramir knew someone loved him. They’d been close ever since and there was no one in all of Middle Earth Boromir trusted more than Faramir.

Except for Gabby.

From the time they were young, the three of them forged a bond unlike any other. Each understood the other’s place in their lives. Gabby would never come between him and Faramir, and Faramir would never come between him and Gabby. Not even when the time came they each had families of their own.

A son of his own. A daughter of his own. At one time, he’d thought of them in passing only. But now… now he’d been given a second chance at so many things.

He sank onto the sofa with a low sigh. He’d given no thought to whether or not Gabby might want to have any babies, but simply assumed she would be overjoyed at the thought.

But what if she was less than thrilled?

He sat back, letting his head come to rest against the cushion. His eyes closed as a heaviness sank into his heart. At first, he thought it was because he had no way of knowing whether or not Gabby would want to have children. But as his eyes stung and his throat tightened, he realized that it wasn't that at all.

The realization that he was now the steward. That he was now the head of his very small family.

That Denethor was truly gone.

The sun was low in the sky as he made his way down the wide cobbled street that wound down through the city. He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon making the final arrangements for Denethor’s funeral, which would be a week from then, and then he went to check on Faramir once more and now, he was just around the corner from Gabby’s tavern. The street lights flickered, the lamplighter still in sight as he moved from lamppost to lamppost.

The door opened, a raucous laughter spilled out, and he smiled as he heard Gabby growl, “Watch yourself, Seward. Do that again, and you’ll be minus a hand.”

He moved faster toward the door, and as he stepped into the pub, it was to find it fairly crowded and choked with smoke already. The door closed behind him, rendering him blind for a few minutes as his eyes adjusted. When they did, his gaze was drawn toward the rear of the taproom, where Gabby stood behind the bar. It was almost like seeing her for the first time, with her hair pulled up and away from her face to spill down her back in a fall of shimmering pale gold. She smiled at someone at the bar and the sight of it made Boromir forget how to breathe for a moment.

Then she caught sight of him and her smile changed, becoming a bit more sly in a way that had his heart skipping a beat as well. How had he gotten so lucky, to win her hand?

He wove his way through the people to step up to the bar, where Gabby smiled as she said, “What can I get for you, sir?”

A wink accompanied her words as she picked up a tankard to fill as he said, “What do you recommend?”

“Everything.” She passed him the tankard with another wink. “Are you all right?”

He accepted the tankard and nodded. “We’ll talk later.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Boromir?”

“Everything is fine, all things considered. It’s simply this isn’t the place for it.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.” He lifted the thanked for a long swallowed. The, he lowered it to add. “It was simply a very long day. So, what time will you be finished here?”

“We close at midnight.”

He looked about. “And you are alone?”

“I cannot afford to hire any help just yet. But,” she leaned an elbow on the bar’s clean, but somewhat scuffed top, “if the war is just about over, hopefully it won’t be long before I’m able to bring at least one on board.”

“Will you be safe here?”

“I’ve known most of these people almost as long as I’ve known you.”

“Yes, but you had your father if any one of them thought to take liberties.”

“I will be fine.”

“I can leave you my sword.”

That earned him an eye roll. “I’ll be fine.”

“Boromir, how are you doing?”

He turned to the man on his left. “Cadell, how do you fare?”

“I’ve had better, but I’ve had worse. Now, you’re not thinking of taking liberties with our Miss Gabby, are you?”

“Cadell,” Gabby said, her voice low with warning, “I assure you, it’s quite all right.”

“I intend to take no liberties,” Boromir replied evenly, looking over at the older man. He vaguely recognized him. “You work in the stables, do you not?”

“I do, aye. And what interest do you have in Gabby?” Cadelle folded his arms over his chest. “Keep in mind, I watch over her in her parents’ stead.”

“Down, Cadell,” Gabby told him without a hint of amusing, “for I need no watching over. And—”

“My interest?” Boromir broke in softly. “I plan to marry her. That’s my interest.”

He took a bit of satisfaction in the look of surprise on Cadell’s lined faced. The older man leaned back, one elbow on the bar. “Marry her, eh? And how do you feel about this, Gabby?”

“Cadell,” Gabby shot him a look, “you are not my keeper, no matter what my father might have told you.”

“He told me to watch out for the steward’s son,” Cadell replied without hesitation. “For he knew why you came around so often. He had a feeling you—”

“Cadell.” The warning in Gabby’s voice deepened. “Enough.”

“No,” Boromir smiled at her, then turned back to Cadell, “let him finish. I’m curious as to what he was told.”

“Well, I’m not and I have customers to take care of.” Gabby looked from him to Cadell and back. “So, if you two wish to brawl like two bears, please go outside and do so.”

With that, she took herself off, moving down to the far end of the bar, where as light as anything, she said, “Welcome! What might I get for you?”

Boromir watched her for a moment, then turned back to find Cadell glaring at him. “So, tell me,” he said, lifting his tankard once more, “what did her father tell you about me?”

“He warned me, is what he did. Said to watch for you. That you’d be sniffing around his daughter and that I should put a stop to that. He knew.”

“He knew what?”

“Why you’d be sniffing around her. And she’s not that sort of girl, you know.”

An image of Gabby astride him, naked and perfectly at ease with him flashed through his mind. Oh, she was absolutely that sort of woman and he was ever so thankful for it.

But, he would never gossip about her in that manner, so he just said, “And what sort of girl is that, my friend? And take care, for I am no longer the steward’s son, but the steward himself and she is no longer Agnar’s daughter, but my intended.”

“Your intended. Is that so?”

“Aye, ask her if you don’t believe me. So, now, what sort of girl does that make her?”

A hint of color swept into the man’s ruddy cheeks. “Agnar asked me to keep an eye on her while she was here alone and he was concerned that you might… take liberties with her.”

“Did he not approve of my friendship with Gabby? He gave no indication of that with me.”

“Of course not. You were the steward’s son. He wouldn’t dare take exception to your friendship. And I believe he would be happy to hear of you betrothal as well. It was simply he was afraid you—or your brother—would think her beneath you and therefore see her as yours for the taking.”

“I would gut a man who would think to treat her that way and I include my brother in that,” Boromir told him, lifting his tankard to his lips once more. Then, lowering it, he added, “You can be certain to tell Agnar that his daughter is in good hands.”

“I am not at all certain he wishes to think of her in any man’s hands,” Cadell replied with a grin. “But, she could certainly fare far worse than with the steward himself.”

Boromir relaxed then. Agnar should only know the thoughts that went through his mind any time his gaze alit on Gabby. Of course, not all of them were lust-filled, but he had the feeling that only a single lustful thought would earn him an enemy in Gabby’s father, so when the time came Agnar and Gabby’s mother returned, it would be best to keep anything even remotely lusty to himself.

Still, her parents weren’t here yet, so, when she glanced down their way, Boromir winked and offered up a slow smile that he knew she understood when he saw the hint of color rise along her right cheekbone.

Cadell signaled to Gabby, who came down to them. “Are the two of you finished arguing?”

“Arguing, my dear girl? We did no such thing,” Cadell said with a booming laugh. “I was but making certain our lord’s intentions toward you were nothing but honorable.”

“His might be,” Gabby replied with a smile. “But, as for me? I only want to get him into bed.”

Boromir bit back a laugh at the look of utter shock on Cadell’s lined face and the collective gasp of everything at the bar and within earshot.

“I—er—that is you—“ Cadell stammered, his ruddy cheeks ruddier still. “I think I should keep that to myself.”

“Why? I’m certain that would trouble them no more than anyone worrying about my purity, which is what you seem to be doing on their behalf.”

“It is not the same for ladies and you know that, Gabby.”

“Only because men have determined it to not be the same.” She rolled her eyes, then shot him a pointed look. “And I assure you, my value as a person does not decrease because I might have known a man who was not my husband just as his—” she jabbed a finger in Boromir’s direction—“value does not increase based on the number of women he might have known who were not his wife.”

Although he had no reason to feel as if Gabby’s words were aimed at him, Boromir nonetheless felt decidedly upbraided as well. She’d known about his prior relationships, and for the most part, what went on in them, and never gave any indication that it bothered her in any way.

But then again, neither one of them had acknowledged how they truly felt about one another at that time, either. And if he was truly honest with himself, he’d rather not think about any man who might have come before him.

He winced. Poor choice of words, idiot.

“We both know that isn’t true, Gabriella,” Cadell replied, his expression growing stern.

“Again, that is only because of men. You all like to think you have something magical, of utmost power between your legs and it is not nearly as magical or powerful as you seem to think. Now, if you’re done?”

“I was going to buy the steward a round,” Cadell replied, rapping his knuckles against the bar, “but I think it would be best if I took my leave now. Good evening, Gabriella.”

With that, he turned to Boromir. “Good luck, Steward. You will have your hands full with her, you know. I hope you are prepared for that.”

“I think I’ll muddle through just fine.”

Cadell bobbed his head, but said no more as he took himself off and Boromir turned to find Gabby glaring at him now. “What did I do?”

“You agree with him, don’t you?”

“Agree with him about what?”

“About my worth being linked to whether or not I’m a virgin?”

He coughed, painfully aware of the other patrons around them. “This really is not the place for such talk, do you think?”

“I knew it.”

“Wait, I never said—” The words died on his lips as she marched off once more and this time came around the bar to go out onto the taproom floor. He waited for her to return, but when she did, she was far too busy for him to pull her aside and clear the air. In fact, she grew so busy that he eventually found himself behind the bar, taking and filling orders for her and it wasn’t until well after midnight before she was locking the door to slump against it.

Drawing her wrist across her forehead, she breathed, “Has everyone returned to this city? We haven’t been this busy since before the city evacuated.”

He leaned an elbow on the bar. “People are beginning to return, now that word has gone beyond our borders. I can only imagine what it will be like, should Frodo be successful. But, as of earlier, the Eye still watches.”

She sighed softly, still leaning against the door. “Is that how you’ll know? It’ll go dark?”

“I hope so.” He met her gaze. “Gabby, you know I do not agree with Cadell, don’t you? About your worth—or the worth of any woman—being tied to her virginity or lack thereof.”

“Is that so?”

“You should know it is.”

“Because you’d have not asked for my hand if you did see it as he does?”

It was best to head this off before it blew up in their faces. They were both tired, and words had a way of becoming far angrier when uttered through lips that were both exhausted and irritated.

That in mind, he drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and dove into the deep end head first.

“It matters not to me that you’ve known others before me,” he said softly. “I care only that they do not compare to me, that they fall short, whereas I do not.”

It was a risk, and for a moment, he thought perhaps he’d made a mistake in taking it when she just stared at him for a long moment. But then, her scowl softened and she smiled. “Would you think otherwise?”

Relief rippled through him as he came around the bar and crossed over to her. “As long as I have wiped the memory of any of them from your mind, that is all that matters to me.”

She draped her arms about his neck, meeting his gaze as she murmured, “Wiped the memory of who?”

“Exactly.” He slid his arms about her waist to tug her flush against him.

“And what about you, Boromir? I know you’ve known other women before me, so…”

“What women? I can recall no one but you in my bed, Gabby.” He let his thumbs brush lightly along her back. “And to be honest, I’d much rather we go back to my apartments so I might find you there again.”

“People will talk.”

“Let them.” He bent to her and caught her lips in a slow, teasing kiss.

When he pulled back, she whispered, “I have to finish closing up.”

He grinned. “I’ll help.”

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

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i-did-not-mean-to · 10 months ago

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Week 2 - Ice

As promised, I've not really counted words this month. I'm just writing what comes to mind.

So, please, have the next instalment of this fic!

Prompt: Ice

Pairing: Faramir x Éowyn, Faramir & OC (oh, and Éomer)

Words: 1 410

Warnings:/

“I wanted to ask,” Faramir burst out before his courage could desert him in the face of so much unexpected, discombobulating pulchritude. “Where could I do some shopping? I need new boots…”

The woman looked at him curiously for a moment.

“You just follow that road until you reach the next town,” she said, pointing in the direction from which he’d come. “They should have most of what you need to survive out here.”

While she’d been talking, the horse had ambled over again and was lovingly nibbling at Faramir’s shoulder until he gave in to the overwhelming instinct to lean against her sturdy midriff.

“I see you two have become fast friends overnight,” Éowyn chuckled. “Please, do come over. We’ve got a young lady from the city staying over—she’s had a rough time at work and is looking to recover far away from bustling crowds. Maybe you’ll have something in common.”

Nodding gratefully, Faramir started to retreat but turned back to give Frieda a last scratch between her shoulder blades. “See you later, old girl,” he whispered and went back to his cabin.

He’d been convinced that it had been him who’d rescued a wandering stray, but now, he was no longer so sure of that. All things considered, he had to admit that it was likelier that Frieda had sought him out to force him into taking his recovery more seriously.

As he rifled through his things to prepare for a short trip to the nearby village, he realised that—while he was curious and sympathetic to his neighbours’ houseguests—he didn’t expect to be much interested in a neurotic city girl.

That sounded much more like the kind of woman that would bowl Boromir over. The thought of his brother’s helper syndrome made Faramir smile, and he resolved to call home after he’d acquired a new pair of boots.

Two hours later, he dragged several bags into the living room and sighed. The little town had been so charming and the tradespeople so welcoming that he’d somehow purchased two thick button-downs, a new pair of jeans, the boots for which he’d originally set out, and more food than a single person could possibly eat in a reasonable timespan.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Faramir felt as if he’d achieved something.

Grabbing a particularly plump, red apple from the counter, he grimaced at his wet clothes from the previous night. He knew that he should hang them up to dry, but he surmised that he could do that later as well.

Now, he wanted to visit his only friend in this picturesque, quiet idyll.

He only realised that his steps were more fluid and much faster already when he found himself pacing around aimlessly in a big, round, deserted courtyard.

“Hello, can I help you?”

A man strolled towards him with a noticeable limp that somehow only made him look more virile; worn jeans hung from his visibly misaligned hips and his long hair, the colour of ripe wheat, was tied into a charmingly negligent bun.

Faramir at once thought that there was one who probably never encountered any troubles when chatting up women.

“I’m here for…she came to me last night…”

“My sister?” The man’s expression darkened ominously, and his stance widened in a manner that could only be described as distinctly threatening.

“Frieda,” Faramir supplied hastily, blushing when the man threw his handsome head back to laugh heartily.

“Ah, you’ve come for the other one of my girls,” he said with a grin and nodded at Faramir’s hand. “And I see you’ve brought gifts. Good for you! She’s over yonder! I’ll send Éowyn out with a drink for the two of you.”

He gave Faramir a singularly crisp nod, betraying that he was only too familiar with the woes and wounds the other valiantly tried to hide and ignore.

Upon catching Faramir’s bewildered eye, Éomer winked cheekily. “I’ve been where you are, brother. If you let them, these ladies are going to drag you back to life, kicking and screaming if necessary. Save your time and don’t struggle!”

Touching two fingers to his brow, the man walked away leisurely while whistling merrily.

Faramir followed the impressively nonchalant gesture as well as the wise words and went to find Frieda in her box, dozing peacefully.

As he drew near, she looked up and gave a joyous whinny that only redoubled when she saw the apple he was presenting to her.

“Careful, or she’ll fall in love with you,” a soft, humorous voice resounded behind him, and—caught in flagranti—Faramir whirled around to see Éowyn standing in the open barn door, holding a glass of iced tea and a bucket.

The ice cubes clinked softly as she handed him the glass, and Faramir was reminded of the little ice cream parlour he’d spotted in the town.

His day had been so gratifying and successful that he was tempted to invite Éowyn, but—at the last moment—he remembered her brother’s reaction and refrained.

After all, he didn’t want to offend his neighbours on the first day of their acquaintance by making unwelcome advances.

“You look livelier,” Éowyn commented as if she could read his thoughts. “And I see that your shopping spree was a success too. Nice shirt!” Faramir couldn’t help thinking that his father would have loathed the rough, supremely inelegant checkered flannel, but he nevertheless sensed that the young woman was genuine in her compliment, so he thanked her as politely as he could with the heat creeping up his throat and settling in his cheeks.

“If you give me a moment, I can pack a thermos of iced water and saddle my own horse. Then, we can take them out to the forest. It is time that you learn to trust your own body and mind again. Don’t you miss the rush of adrenaline?” Seeing his flabbergasted face, she grinned. “Frieda is a good mount—reliable. Don’t worry! Her saddle and tack are on the far wall there, if you want, you can get her ready.”

When he didn’t decline, she set down her bucket in reach of the dappled mare and walked back towards the entrance.

“You’ll have to rub her down yourself after,” she chirruped over her shoulder. “If you clean her hooves as well, you can stay for dinner!”

If Faramir had believed that Éowyn would go easy on him on account of his noticeably limited range of motion or his lack of familiarity with the trail, he’d been sorely mistaken—the ride turned out to be invigoratingly challenging, and he felt his heart soar at the breathtaking vistas he’d completely missed on that first rainy night.

Afterwards, he dutifully dried off Frieda and shared another slightly mealy apple from Éowyn’s stash with the mare; he stayed with her, resting his forehead against her smooth, fragrant fur until he could be sure that his legs would not give out from under him at the first hesitant steps.

True to her word, Éowyn invited him to stay for dinner, and Faramir learned that she and her brother ran a kind of unofficial rehabilitation centre for worn-out city folk.

He also got to meet Drea, a young woman with a bright smile and sad eyes; she’d left a supremely important but unbearably dull job in the hope of finding a more meaningful and fulfilling life elsewhere.

Unfortunately, such profound developments took time, and so she’d taken refuge on this sheltered farm to rest and recover from the mad race that had been her life for the last few years.

“And you’re all alone out here?” Drea asked when Faramir, feeling comfortably sated and heavy, prepared to take his leave from his generous hosts.

“For now, yes,” he admitted. “My brother—who’d be delighted to make your acquaintance, I’m sure—will join me at his earliest convenience, though.”

The thought of Boromir reminded him of the call he’d wanted to make and had completely forgotten about—he winced.

Drea blushed and gave Faramir another one of her beautifully vulnerable half-smiles. “I’d be charmed to meet him,” she said politely, but Faramir could sense that she was not entirely sure of her own words.

“Yes,” Éomer cut in. “Don’t be a stranger, and—if your brother turns up—tell him that we’ll surely find a horse for him too.”

“Shall do,” Faramir promised, his heart alight with mad, indomitable hope.

@fellowshipofthefics

-> Masterlist

#og post #Summerstories #FOTFICS #FOTFICS July 2024 #FOTFICS July Challenge #Week 2 #Humans #Men #Faramir #a horse #Ice #Éowyn #Éomer #OC #fem!OC #Chapter 3

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wisheduponastar · 1 year ago

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Not like pipeweed after all (Gen, 4.5k)

For Day 5 of @tolkienfamilyweek. Prompt : Found Family

Pippin has run out of long-bottom leaf, and it turns out so has Merry. They try and persuade Strider to find some for them, and he does. It turns out, however, this substitute isn’t exactly what they have in mind - their pipeweed isn’t normally this strong. Luckily, they’re around friends - and Boromir is here for them.

Or~ Pippin & Merry accidentally get high, but Boromir is there for them - and has to put up with shenanigans.

Read on Ao3

Ah, so it's not explicitly found family, but tell me they're not brothers-

He had packed far too lightly for this trip, Pippin reflected as he hoisted his pack further up his shoulders. Not that it, in any way, stopped his pack from being much too heavy. Now it was just filled with food, and things for everyone - rather than just for him. What he wouldn’t give to go back to his younger self. Well, younger self was slightly rich - it had been only about three months since he left the shire, three months and a bit.

He hadn’t been counting, especially as days in Rivendell seemed to move so unusually. Sam would almost certainly know, however, if Pippin were to ask him. But the main thing was what Pippin would say to his younger self. He wouldn’t tell him not to go on the quest - for it was going fairly well so far.

Pippin broke off his thoughts for a few seconds, simply looking around. Strider, well, Aragorn, was at the front of the group and in conversation with Gandalf. Also in front of him was Merry, who was currently talking to Boromir - captain of Gondor. And heir to… the stewardship of it? Merry and Pippin had asked Boromir about it once, but he wasn’t very willing to answer - which was rather unusual, as he normally talkative when talking about his hometown. Home city. Gondor was too big to be called a town, apparently.

Turning on his heel as he walked, Pippin spun round to observe who was behind him. Immediately behind Pippin and joining him in the, if he did say so himself, rather respectable, middle were Frodo and Sam - both walking and talking rather cheerfully. Then was Gimli, and then Legolas. Both looked as if they wanted to guard the rear, but neither wanted to be walking exactly next to each other - the awkward two-step inbetween them their compromise.

Grinning slightly, Pippin turned around again, jogging a small amount to catch up to Boromir and Merry.

“Merry, you can’t just leave me!” He cried, grinning and waving slightly as he made pace with the two of them.

Breaking off from the conversation, Merry titled his head to look behind him, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow, eh Pip?”

“My pack’s heavier,” Pippin defended, although he was unsure of whether it was true. They had been given almost the same amount of things, so it really depended on what his fellow hobbit had packed.

“I wish my pack was heavier,” said Merry, suddenly mood-swinging to somewhat forlorn, and wistful.

Boromir looked down, slight concern in his eyes, “How so? I assure you we have enough food to last all of us this journey.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” and with just those words most of Merry’s more cheerful attitude was back, “It’s just, I’ve smoked the last of my longbottom leaf - my pack just doesn’t feel the same without it.”

He broke off briefly from his mourning, and looked up at the sky, “I wish I’d brought more of it, or re-stocked at Rivendell.”

“I don’t think the elves are big on smoking,” observed Pippin, “But yes, if I could go back and tell younger me one thing - it would be to pack more longbottom leaf.”

“Truly?” Boromir laughed as he asked, surprised at how simple a hobbit's desire could be, but also with some good-natured envy. To have such little regrets about leaving, that the main thing you’d change was how much leaf you packed.

“See, Boromir,” Merry looked up, “You wouldn’t have any longbottom leaf, would you?”

Boromir shook his head, “No, but I am not completely sure what it is.”

“Here,” Pippin said, rummaging around the various add-ons to his bag, and finding the pot he stored his pipeweed in. Carefully, Pippi reached in and took the smallest amount he could - still enough for a smoke, but not enough for anything more. Holding it aloft, he gestured to Boromir, “This is longbottom leaf. Proper good stuff, it is.”

Boromir peered at it for a second, before recognition sparked in his eyes, “Ah. We call it sweet galenas.”

“D’you smoke it?”

“Not that I am aware,” was the honest answer, as Boromir did not engage in too much smoking or drinking, especially not of late, “It is only noted for its sweet fragrance.”

Merry looked slightly crestfallen, “So there isn’t much hope you’ll have any on you?”

“I am afraid not,” Boromir seemed to muse over the problems for a second, “Although Aragorn has a pipe, does he not? He may have some, or at least something similar.”

“You, Boromir, are a genius!” Declared Merry, a grin already on his face - eager to speed away and ask.

“Yes, a credit to all of Gondor,” tacked on Pippin who, although still having some pipeweed left, sped off with even more urgency than Merry - the two briefly leaving Boromir alone to smile after them and walk slightly faster, waiting for them to return.

“Aragorn! Aragorn!” Was the chorus that came from the two of them, causing the ranger to turn round and stare - conversation with Gandalf broken off. Merry had the decency to avert his eyes and look sheepish, however Pippin did not - until Merry nudged him worriedly.

“Ow- Merry,” he started, before cutting himself off and looking down slightly, “Ah, Gandalf. We didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

There was good intention in Pippin’s words, before his eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea, “Say - Gandalf, you don’t have any pipeweed, do you? See me and Merry have almost finished-”

“Merry, don’t nudge me that hard!”

“Pip. We’re trying to be polite, charming,” Merry looked sideways, then back at Pippin again, “We’re trying to charm Gandalf and Strider into giving up their pipeweed, not whatever you’re doing!”

“Ah - so that it was you are after,” there was no accusation in Aragorn’s voice, just lightheartedness, “Well, I am sorry my friends - but I have no more left at the moment. I dropped the last of my Southlinch when we were ambushed by crebain.”

“Southlinch?” Questioned Merry curiously.

“A type of pipeweed, grown in Bree,” supplied Aragorn, a warmer smile, “Have the two of you none left?”

“I have a little…” confessed Pippin, “But I want to save it for a special occasion, one of our great victories. Or maybe a horrific tragedy of some kind.”

“Horrific tragedy?” Echoed Gandalf disapprovingly, “Do not think so darkly, Peregrin Took!”

While the small scolding took place, in which Pippin did have the decency to look immediately down this time, Aragorn seemed to be thinking and observing the situation around him. There were a few moments of silence as they walked, Aragorn staring at the plant life before eventually he spoke, “You know, Master Brandybuck, I may be able to find something similar to pipeweed. If you are interested?”

“Of course!” Was the immediate answer from both hobbits, at the same time. Another chuckle came from Aragorn, and he nodded, “We are on the lookout for a plant called wild dagga, or leonurus. It can be from your to my height, and has a dark green stem with bright orange flower-like parts to it. Should you see something like that, alert me.”

Nodding, and promising reassurances, the hobbits smiled and chattered among themselves before retreating quietly back to Boromir.

“Good news my friend, I assume?” Boromir questioned as they went back, taking note of their large grins.

“Oh yes!” Answered Merry, “I’ve found a way to get us some more pipeweed. Or something close to it, at least. We’re looking out for a plant, it can be from my to your height, and it’s orange.”

“Anything else?” Boromir asked with sincerity, quickly scanning the surroundings to see if a plant like that would immediately appear.

“I don’t think so,” Merry trailed off for a second, looking to his friend, “That was it, wasn’t it Pippin?”

“I’m fairly certain,” was the confident response, “Shouldn’t be too hard, there aren’t that many orange flowers near here, are there?”

“I haven’t seen any,” supplied Boromir, the closest any of them could get to confirmation. Together, the three continued to talk for a bit about various herbs, and then their surroundings - which inevitably led to talk of the shire, which in turn prompted talk of Gondor. Eventually, Pippin looked up and asked, “Boromir, do you smoke often?”

“Not often, no,” Boromir answered, “It is harder to get than most ales, if I should have the opportunity to smoke or drink.”

“I suppose being a lord-”

“Steward,” Boromir corrected quickly, then looked apologetic, “I am sorry, please go on Pippin.”

“No problems,” was the cheerful answer, “But I suppose being a steward you wouldn’t drink much, would you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Boromir decided to be frank, “I probably drank as much as the next person in my guard, probably slightly less. We had responsibility, so we almost certainly drank less than hobbits.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged annoyed glances, then Merry spoke up, “We didn’t drink that much. Besides, I didn’t know you could get ale in a pint before I left the shire.”

“Well, if you take into account your body size compared to mine,” began Boromir, before stopping that train of thought and instead contributing, “Well, I have certainly smoked less.”

“Only because you didn’t have as good leaf,” Pippin responded, in a somewhat sympathetic way. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you the art of the pipe, won’t we Merry?”

“Oh yes,” there was pride in Merry’s voice, “D’you know, us hobbits were the first to put pipeweed in pipes?”

“Truly?” Asked Boromir, “You hobbits never cease to surprise, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you!” Merry said, making eye-contact with Boromir - and genuinely smiling. The two hobbits exchanged grins under the man’s gaze, a large grin spreading almost ear to ear - both of their faces mimicking each other.

Then they fell back into the easy rhythm of talking about whatever caught their fancy. When Pippin started the conversation, it was to complain about the long roads - which led onto discussions of horses and various modes of transportation (for a few minutes there was heated debate between Merry and Pippin as to whether Boromir would be able to ride a Shire pony or not). Eventually Merry had butted in, instead beginning a talk about the mayor of Shire, and then its various laws - and then the Gondor legal system (which, to be fair, was mainly the hobbits listing progressively more obscure actions before asking if they were legal).

When it was Boromir’s turn to start the conversation, it would also usually be about the Shire - or about hobbit life in general. He was more curious about their general lives, and the peace of the Shire, just how different it was to Gondor. At one their conversation started on where Boromir should stay, if he ever visited the Shire. Well, he said ‘if’, Merry and Pippin said ‘when’. It was during their conversation that the plant was spotted.

“Lobelia’s got a rather large ceiling, hasn’t she Merry,” observed Pippin, “D’you think she’d let Boromir stay at hers?”

“Pippin, are you suggesting we inflict Lobelia on Boromir?” Was the retort, “We want him to like the Shire, not- oh wait, I think I see the plant!”

Both of his companions' heads turned to see where his gaze was following. About ten or so metres away was a patch of the plant. Wild dagga, Pippin was pretty sure. This variety was taller than him, but shorter than Boromir - coming away at about the five foot mark. Overly large for a plant, Pippin decided, especially if it wasn’t even a tree.

“D’you think it’s the right thing, Boromir?” Asked Pippin, looking up briefly as he spoke before returning to stare at the plant.

“Herblore is not my expertise,” was the start of the answer, but Boromir smiled, “However it does look like what you described. I doubt there would be any harm in asking if they are the correct plants.”

“They look like the dagga to me,” contributed Merry, “Wait here - I’ll ask Aragorn!”

With that, Merry sped up again - a short and sudden burst of speed, before it quickly descended into a jog - damn this backpack. Still trying to catch up, the ranger and the wizard had walked awfully far ahead, Merry instead called out, “Wait! We think we’ve found the wild…” his mind briefly drew a blank as to what it was called, “The plant you were talking about!”

This seemed to catch Aragorn’s attention, for he nodded briefly to Gandalf and then began to walk back towards the hobbits, “So, my friends, you say you’ve found some?”

“Yes, over there!” Merry pointed out the blooming orange stalks, smiling, “That is the plant you wanted, right?”

“It is, that is very well observed master hobbit.” With thanks, and a promise to share it out equally among all who wanted it, Aragorn traversed off-the-path a little, going up to the plants and taking off the leaves and flowers.

“Will you try some Boromir?” Questioned Pippin, looking up at the man as they began walking.

Boromir seemed to consider it a second, “I am not sure. You should try some first, I will trust your judgement.”

“Really?” Asked Merry, before blushing slightly and looking at the path in front, “I mean, of course. We are experts on pipeweed, aren’t we Pip?”

“Aye Merry, that we are, that we are,” Pippin nodded on this point, in almost an imitation of Gandalf. Slightly less wise, but the spirit of all-knowing was there. Enough to make Boromir smile and laugh to himself, and make Merry laugh outright - immediately teasing his companion.

The lighter mood continued throughout the day with no further interruptions, except Boromir managing to spot another two patches of wild dagga. It was nice for Boromir to see the flower before them, because he could look down as he announced it. See right when their excitable grins appeared on their faces, and watch as they exchanged a glance then looked up at him, thanking him. Then run off to pester Aragorn about more of the stuff being found.

Eventually, they could see Aragorn and Frodo (for the marching order was prone to change throughout the day) stopping up ahead of them. Frodo setting his pack on the floor, and sitting down with some relief. Aragorn busy taking sticks from the surroundings and striking his tinderbox. Pippin didn’t even try to disguise the large smile that came upon his face, “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Yes, we are almost at Caradhras, I want us to be rested for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pippin said, looking at Merry, “Where d’you want to set up camp, Merry?”

“Probably near the fire,” Merry responded, briefly looking to Boromir for approval, which the man gave by nodding. He was, in some ways, touched that the hobbits thought highly enough of him to ask him questions. Even if it was only where to set up their bedrolls.

Looking around, Boromir shed the pack he was carrying and set it down beside his feet, also dropping the shield for the time being. His sword he kept on him at all times. Not just because he did not trust the wilderness of Middle Earth, but also because he didn’t trust Merry and Pippin. He’d let them use training swords, and then when he’d left his sword for a second to fetch a sharpening stone - he’d come back to find Merry holding it. That had given him much more of a fright than he was ever prepared to admit.

“So, Aragorn, how exactly is it you use this plant then?” Merry eventually spoke up, for it was Aragorn who still had all the plants. “I assume you still smoke it, like you do pipeweed?”

“Yes, I am just drying it out now,” Aragorn nodded to the fire, which had a number of smaller twigs over it - leaves and flowers skewered to them, and drying out. “It will not be a very sophisticated process, but we rangers have used it often enough.”

“The…” Merry struggled to find the word for a second, “The rangers smoke this often?” “When you are in the wilderness for months at a time, yes. Although sometimes pipeweed will grow in the wild, and we’ll use that instead.”

“Pipeweed grows in the wild?” Merry said indignantly, “We could’ve kept an eye out for that.”

“I have only ever seen it grow in the wilds near Gondor,” explained Aragorn, inclining his head slightly towards Boromir, “And even then, only near the city.”

“I still can’t believe you’d never thought to smoke it,” said Pippin, now also looking at Boromir.

“I imagine some would have,” admitted Boromir, “But the discovery of some new novelty to smoke was not exactly news one would share with your captain.”

“Why not?” Asked Pippin, rather sincerely.

Boromir simply shook his head and laughed a little, “Let me say… our worlds work very differently Pippin.”

“Suit yourself,” Pippin briefly smiled again, before turning to Aragorn again, “So, how long until we can use it?”

“About ten minutes or so. It still needs to dry out.”

“What needs to dry out?” Legolas had finally arrived, and was somewhat putting down his belongings, while simultaneously looking like he could run off now and be fine for the next couple of days. Actually, Boromir reflected, he probably could. Elves needed less sustenance, and Legolas’s bow and quiver were still on his back, so he could’ve made it. Boromir was fairly certain, however, that the elf would not suddenly abandon them.

“The wild dagga,” Merry answered, looking to Aragorn briefly for confirmation, “Me and Pippin have run out of longbottom leaf, so we’re going to try and smoke that instead.”

The elf wrinkled his nose slightly at that, “I have never understood smoking, surely it cannot taste nice?”

“It’s not really the taste,” Pippin tried to explain, “It’s the experience, the feeling. And it isn’t that bad!”

“Maybe not for hobbits,” conceded Legolas, “But for elves, the smell is most unpleasant.”

“Oh. Does us doing,” Merry gestured vaguely, pipe now in his hands, “It… does it bother you?”

“Not very, it is much more bearable in open air, besides,” Legolas glanced at Gandalf, “I have grown more used to it. A certain… visitor is rather fond of pipeweed.”

All of the hobbits laughed at that, with Merry observing almost out-loud, “And to think hobbits have been doing something longer than wizards. Although I daresay you’ll be better at it than us by now.”

There was a second as Gandalf deliberately avoided eye-contact, in a somewhat modest way, before breaking out in a smile and acknowledging it - sending a smoke ring that soon morphed into the shape of a star shooting around them.

“Well, we can do it best without using magic, ay Merry?” Said Pippin, nudging Merry conspicuously with a grin. “Aragorn, is the… whatever you called it ready?”

“Patience, Master Took,” was Aragorn’s immediate response, but he lent over the fire and then smiled, “But as luck would have it - they are. Do you wish to smoke them?”

“Do I wish to smoke them?” Echoed Merry, somewhat sarcastic - somewhat indignant. “Anything we need to know before we start?”

“It has always behaved like normal pipeweed for me,” answered Aragorn, “So I would say no.”

With the expertise of a knowledgeable smoker, Merry leaned over slightly to the now dried leaves - quickly getting out his pipe as well and busying himself by lighting it (and trying to take what he presumed to be the better leaf from Pippin).

“So, Pippin, Merry, is it good?” Asked Boromir after they’d let out a few smoke rings, still holding true to his thought that he would try some - if they deemed it appropriate.

Turning his whole head, even though Boromir was sitting almost directly next to him, Pippin looked up to the taller man, “Hmmm… I don’t know Merry, but I’d say so?”

There was a very thoughtful frown on Merry’s face, that suddenly split into a large grin, “Yes Pip. Without a doubt. Here Boromir, try mine.”

Merry smiled again, then held out the pipe to someone who was decidedly not Boromir - but instead Legolas. There was a second as the elf sat there, waiting for the hobbit to correct his mistake, before Legolas politely coughed, eyes gazing instead to where Boromir was sitting.

“Boromir!” Merry exclaimed suddenly, almost throwing down the pipe and (finally) held it in the direction of the man he intended, “You looked so pretty as a blond…”

There was now a forlorn tone in Merry’s voice, and his eyes became ever so slightly glassy - although Boromir was fairly certain this wasn’t because of Boromir not, in fact, being blond.

“I… I have never been blond Merry,” he gently corrected, frowning at the hobbit’s state of mind.

“No, you were just then!” It was remarkable how determined Merry could be, “When you were pretending to be Legolas. You’re a beautiful blond Boromir.”

Pippin gave a non-committal, although positive hum, nodding along to all of Merry’s words sagely, an image that was slightly ruined by the fact he was staring simply at the sky. Pippin then looked down slightly, at Boromir again, and opened his mouth - to say nothing for a few seconds, before hazily mumbling “D’you agree?”

“Agree? With what?” There was a gentleness in Boromir’s voice, as well as poorly disguised concern, “Tell me again.”

“So,” Pippin began, “It’s essentially just…”

There was a second as he trailed off again, instead just staring at the ground, “That… probably sums it up. I’m sorry, is that still confusing?”

“No, not at all,” Boromir was probably over-enunciating his words now, unsure if the hobbits could register them, “You should probably put down the pipes now, and go to sleep.”

“How’re we suppose to go to Mordor if we sleep?” Questioned Merry, although he almost rolled off the log - now lying on the floor, “Didn’t think of that - did you Boromir?”

Pippin snickered slightly, “Merry, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor - very bad for your spine.”

“Is it really?” Merry asked genuinely, looking up for someone again, “An… adult, who isn’t me, is this true?”

“You do need to sleep on a bedroll, Merry,” Boromir explained, guiding the hobbit up and getting his pack out for him (stubbornly ignoring the fact Merry was now simply lying on his feet). “Here, lie on this.”

“You’re so nice Boromir,” Merry said, sitting down onto the bedroll,

“Merry look. We’re not sleeping on the ground now, are we?”

“I’m not Merry. You’re Merry.”

“No, I’m Meriadoc. I don’t do nicknames Pip.”

“You just did.”

“No, your name’s just Pip. We didn’t tell you, thought it’d make you sad.”

“That’s not true!” Pippin exclaimed, with almost genuine (although certainly high-infused) uncertainty.

“Yes it is, isn’t it…” Merry looked around, eyes falling on Boromir again, “It’s true isn't it Boromir. You’ll know.” He turned to Pippin again, “Boromir’s very knowledgeable about your name.”

Shaking his head, Boromir decided to try and ignore the conversation, instead turning, with a growing mixture of concern and anger, to Aragorn, “Aragorn, what did you give them?”

“Wild dagga - my friend,” was the honest response, not helped by the fact it sounded like the ranger was trying not to laugh, “I had no idea it would affect the hobbits like this - I thought they would react to it like pipeweed!”

“And yet they are,” Boromir looked again at the hobbits, who had sat up and were talking in very hushed voices, “Frodo, this is not normal, is it?”

“No,” Frodo answered, still looking at Pippin, “Although they’ve behaved like this before - but usually after having a lot more pipeweed - or drinking more than they should.”

“It will probably be over by morning, Boromir sir,” spoke up Sam, looking in concern at the two younger hobbits. “I can watch over them, maybe make them something.”

“I will watch over them Sam, do not worry,” something in Boromir made him reluctant to go to sleep, especially when Merry and Pippin were vulnerable, but he smiled tightly, “Although they would probably benefit from something to eat.”

“Of course” for a while there was busying around the camp as people dug through their packs, contributing various things to make a stew out of. Boromir would have helped more, but he did have his work cut out for him. While being affected - the hobbits seemed to have developed a fascination with fire, along with a startling lack of self-preservation.

Boromir would have possibly cut more firewood, or stoked it when it was down - but trying to hold Pippin down while still being gentle (so he could not pick up one of the flaming logs) was a task that required more attention, and was probably more important.

“Merry, Pippin, let us sit over there,” Boromir glanced left into the clearing, “It will be better for your…”

“Eyes?” Suggested Merry, still smiling slightly and getting up, “C’mon Pip. We’re not going to Mordor anymore, we’re going over there.”

“My name isn’t Pip. It’s Peregrin,” Pippin protested, although both of them followed Boromir over. There was at least one issue solved - the hobbits could no longer launch themselves directly in the fire.

“Do you have a second name, Boromir?” For some reason, Merry had phrased it as more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway.

“Of course I do-”

“What is it?”

“I think you look like a… Varno,” decided Pippin, after several long seconds of looking into Boromir’s eyes.

“Oh yes - I can see that!” Chimed in Merry, “That is your name, isn’t it Boromir?”

“No, it is not,” said Boromir, with all the patience that he could muster at the time.

“Well it should be!” The statement was said with such clarity, that for a second Boromir seriously considered its merits - before shaking his head and sighing.

“Boromir, your food,” it was Aragorn - standing next to him with three wooden bowls of stew, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the hobbits. “Will you be eating with us?”

“I am afraid they will still try to launch themselves into the fire,” Boromir admitted, casting a glance backwards. The two of them had begun laughing now, a high and carefree one - one that seemed infectious. “We will eat over here.”

“You are sure, my friend?”

“Yes it will be…” There was another glance backwards, “I am sure it will be fine.”

“We’re very responsible Strider, sir” added Pippin, who frowned as Merry suddenly began to laugh.

“Merry - I am.”

“No you’re not - neither of us are!”

“Oh,” the thought struck Pippin, and suddenly he laughed a little as well, “No - we aren’t.”

The rest of the night was just as chaotic - but in most ways Boromir did not mind. There was something nice about the two hobbits like these - even if it was just because of how much they smiled, or how much more affectionate they were. And if Pippin had insisted on a story to go to sleep, well that was his business - and Boromir was sure Pippin wouldn’t remember Boromir telling him one anyway.

#pippin took #meriadoc brandybuck #boromir #lotr #lotr fanfic #tolkiengenweek

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 8 months ago

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reblogged this earlier just so it would be easy to find, but now i've got time to add to it.

the three layers described here, in terms that might be a little more clear, are:

the world as an environment

the societal structures in the world

the individual people of the world

or to give another example:

middle earth as a setting, with different environments and people groups that are each suited to their own parts of the world and have their own histories. good and evil as tangible natural forces, and the way they shape the world. etc

the cities and settlements of middle earth, with their politics and social interactions. the shire compared to rivendell compared to gondor. the effects of each society on each other, the effects of history on the current age, and also how each society has organized themselves to be able to handle the threat of evil in their lands

the characters the books actually follow; frodo, aragorn, gandalf, etc. how each of them has been shaped by their home culture and how this informs the way they interact with the people around them and the new environments they come into, as well as how they react and handle conflict. sam being less formal than boromir, gandalf being able to interact with ancient and powerful beings on an equal level, aragorn's ability to lead an army.

if any part of this were to fail, like maybe frodo acting like a powerful and seasoned adventuring hero when that's really not what he should be based on the context he was raised in, or giving every society a powerful army but claiming the world has always been at peace until now, well the story just wouldn't be as good, would it?

we wouldn't believe as well in the powerful armies of the good people if the narrative didn't show us how their history has prepared them for the big conflicts they're about to face.

The reason I'm posting to this blog instead of my main blog is that I think it also applies to things like fantasy biology, in stories where that's relevant. It's entirely possible to just not bother with detailed biology in fantasy creatures!

but if you've set your story up in a way that suggests realism, that presents itself as having a long history of something like, say, dragons as part of human war culture for multiple centuries, then I would expect the humans in that world to actually know things about the dragons on a deeper level. and I would also expect the dragons to have some logic for why they work with the humans and why they even bother with human wars. and dragon biology in this case may very well be an important detail to explore and keep consistent!

or if you've got both elves and humans and they interact with each other and the narrative presents them as being different species, I expect that to affect the way they interact, and I expect them to look different enough from each other that it makes sense for a character to say "ah, this person talking to me must be an elf" because there would be visual anatomical differences.

consistent details are essential for effective worldbuilding, on every level. every part of the worldbuilding must be cohesive with the other parts. even if you're writing a simple children's story, you still need the world to fit together in a way that is clear and simple and makes sense for that story.

I've been reading Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros, and it's gotten me thinking about how worldbuilding is multilayered, and about how a failure of one layer of the worldbuilding can negatively impact the book, even if the other layers of the worldbuilding work.

I don't want to spoil the book for anyone, so I'm going to talk about it more broadly instead. In my day job, one of the things I do is planning/plan development, and we talk about plans broadly as strategic, operational, and tactical. I think, in many ways, worldbuilding functions the same way.

Strategic worldbuilding, as I think of it, is how the world as a whole works. It's that vampires exist and broadly how vampires exist and interact with the world, unrelated to the characters or (sometimes) to the organizations that the characters are part of. It's the ongoing war between Earth and Mars; it's the fact that every left-handed person woke up with magic 35 years ago; it's Victorian-era London except every twelfth day it rains frogs. It's the world, in the broadest sense.

Operational worldbuilding is the organizations--the stuff that people as a whole are doing/have made within the context of that strategic-level world. For The Hunger Games, I'd probably put the post-apocalyptic nature of the world and even the existence/structure of the districts as the strategic level and the construct of the Hunger Games as the operational level: the post-apocalyptic nature of the world and the districts are the overall world that they live in, and the Hunger Games are the construct that were created as a response.

Tactical worldbuilding is, in my mind, character building--and, specifically, how the characters (especially but not exclusively the main characters) exist within the context of the world. In The Hunger Games, Katniss has experience in hunting, foraging, wilderness survival, etc. because of the context of the world that she grew up in (post-apocalyptic, district structure, Hunger Games, etc.). This sort of worldbuilding, to me, isn't about the personality part of the characterization but about the context of the character.

Each one of these layers can fail independently, even if the other ones succeed. When I think of an operational worldbuilding failure, I think of Divergent, where they took a post-apocalyptic world and set up an orgnaizational structure that didn't make any sense, where people are prescribed to like 6 jobs that don't in any way cover what's required to run a modern civilization--or even to run the society that they're shown as running. The society that they present can't exist as written in the world that they're presented as existing in--or if they can, I never could figure out how when reading the book (or watching the film).

So operational worldbuilding failures can happen when the organizations or societies that are presented don't seem like they could function in the context that they are presented in or when they just don't make any sense for what they are trying to accomplish. If the story can't reasonably answer why is this organization built this way or why do they do what they do then I see it as an organizational worldbuilding failure.

For tactical worldbuilding failures, I think of stories where characters have skillsets that conveniently match up with what they need to solve the problems of the plot but don't actually match their background or experience. If Katniss had been from an urban area and never set foot in a forest, it wouldn't have worked to have her as she was.

In this way (as in planning), the tactical level should align with the operational level which should align with the strategic level--you should be able to trace from one to the next and understand how things exist in the context of each other.

For that reason, strategic worldbuilding failures are the vaguest to explain, but I think of them like this: if it either 1) is so internally inconsistent that it starts to fall apart or 2) leaves the reader going this doesn't make any sense at all then it's probably failed.

#worldbuilding #how to worldbuild

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nikosheba · 2 years ago

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Okay but. you guys know this scene right.

i HAVE to talk about this.

because we’re so used to the beautiful way it’s cut. Faramir brings in the hobbits, he says to take them to Denethor, that he’s sending a “mighty gift.” But shit goes down and he thinks better of it and lets them go. This is intercut with Sam’s magnificent speech about Some Good In This World That’s Worth Fighting For and the victory at Helm’s Deep and Isengard being obliterated by Ents.

but

the thing is

if you cut out the other scenes

and JUST look at what’s happening in Osgiliath

this is what happens word for word:

Faramir: Take them to my father. Tell him Faramir sends a mighty gift. A weapon that will change our fortunes in this war. Sam: Do you know why your brother died? He tried to take the Ring from Frodo! After swearing an oath to protect him, he tried to kill him!* The Ring drove your brother mad. Scout: NAZGÛL! Frodo: [walks slowly up a bridge to stare at a Nazgûl] Sam: [tackles him] Frodo: [draws Sting] Sam: It’s me. It’s your Sam. Don’t you know your Sam? Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam. Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding on to something. Frodo: What are we holding on to, Sam? Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for. Faramir: I think at last we understand each other, Frodo Baggins. Madril: You know the laws of this country, the laws of your father. If you let them go, your life is forfeit. Faramir: Then it is forfeit.

OKAY. SO. Being intercut with the other scenes REALLY gives this one a boost because I didn’t realize how weird this is until this most recent viewing which has to be like my 40th time through.

Faramir has made his choice and then he sees Sam tackle Frodo and make a nice speech and then he says I think we understand each other Frodo Baggins???? What EXACTLY has this taught him about Frodo that’s worth ALLOWING HIS FATHER TO EXECUTE HIM (according to this nebulous “give me the ring or else” law Denethor supposedly has in place)???? Like he just sees Frodo being wet and pathetic at Sam and is like “hold on I have to rethink my entire life”?????? He genuinely goes from “Take them to my father, I’m sending a mighty gift” to “AH NOW I UNDERSTAND” in 5 minutes and explicitly seems to understand FRODO after hearing Sam make a speech at him??

how did I never notice this before it’s driving me crazy i’ve been thinking about this for 6 weeks

* Asterisk because Sam, one, you don’t actually know how Boromir died so that was a weird power play, and two, if we know that Faramir ALSO doesn’t know how Boromir died it occurs to me that it kind of sounds like Sam is saying, “Yeah, I did it, I stabbed your brother for coming after Frodo and I’ll stab you too, Legs.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #faramir #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins

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ebaeschnbliah · 2 years ago

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A log with eyes ...

There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats. Each member of the Company was busy with his own thoughts.

The heart of Legolas was running under the stars of a summer night in some northern glade amid the beech-woods; Gimli was fingering gold in his mind, and wondering if it were fit to be wrought into the housing of the Lady's gift. Merry and Pippin in the middle boat were ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing a paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn's. Then Pippin, who sat in the bow looking back, caught a queer gleam in his eye, as he peered forward gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use they did not trust Sam with one.

As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over the bowed heads of Frodo and Aragorn and the following boats; he was drowsy and longed for camp and the feel of earth under his toes. Suddenly something caught his sight: at first he stared at it listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes; but when he looked again he could not see it any more.

That night they camped on a small eyot close to the western bank. Sam lay rolled in blankets beside Frodo. `I had a funny dream an hour or two before we stopped, Mr. Frodo,' he said. `Or maybe it wasn't a dream. Funny it was anyway.'

`Well, what was it? ' said Frodo, knowing that Sam would not settle down until he had told his tale, whatever it was. 'I haven't seen or thought of anything to make me smile since we left Lothlórien.'

`It wasn't funny that way, Mr. Frodo. It was queer. All wrong, if it wasn't a dream. And you had best hear it. It was like this: I saw a log with eyes! '

`The log's all right,' said Frodo. `There are many in the River. But leave out the eyes! '

`That I won't,' said Sam. ` 'Twas the eyes as made me sit up, so to speak. I saw what I took to be a log floating along in the half-light behind Gimli's boat; but I didn't give much heed to it. Then it seemed as if the log was slowly catching us up. And that was peculiar, as you might say, seeing as we were all floating on the stream together. Just then I saw the eyes: two pale sort of points, shiny-like, on a hump at the near end of the log. What's more, it wasn't a log, for it had paddle-feet, like a swan's almost, only they seemed bigger, and kept dipping in and out of the water.

'That's when I sat right up and rubbed my eyes, meaning to give a shout, if it was still there when I had rubbed the drowse out of my head. For the whatever-it-was was coming along fast now and getting close behind Gimli. But whether those two lamps spotted me moving and staring, or whether I came to my senses, I don't know. When I looked again, it wasn't there. Yet I think I caught a glimpse with the tail of-my eye, as the saying is, of something dark shooting under the shadow of the bank. I couldn't see no more eyes though.

`I said to myself: "dreaming again, Sam Gamgee," I said: and I said no more just then. But I've been thinking since. and now I'm not so sure. What do you make of it, Mr. Frodo? '

'I should make nothing of it but a log and the dusk and sleep in your eyes Sam, said Frodo, if this was the first time that those eyes had been seen. But it isn't. I saw them away back north before we reached Lórien. And I saw a strange creature with eyes climbing to the flet that night. Haldir saw it too. And do you remember the report of the Elves that went after the orc-band? '

`Ah,' said Sam. `I do; and I remember more too. I don't like my thoughts; but thinking of one thing and another, and Mr. Bilbo's stories and all, I fancy I could put a name on the creature, at a guess. A nasty name. Gollum, maybe? '

`Yes, that is what I have feared for some time,' said Frodo. `Ever since the night on the flet. I suppose he was lurking in Moria, and picked up our trail then; but I hoped that our stay in Lórien would throw him off the scent again. The miserable creature must have been hiding in the woods by the Silverlode, watching us start off! '

`That's about it,' said Sam. `And we'd better be a bit more watchful ourselves, or we'll feel some nasty fingers round our necks one of these nights, if we ever wake up to feel anything. And that's what I was leading up to. No need to trouble Strider or the others tonight. I'll keep watch. I can sleep tomorrow, being no more than luggage in a boat, as you might say.'

`I might,' said Frodo, `and I might say "luggage with eyes". You shall watch; but only if you promise to wake me halfway towards morning, if nothing happens before then.'

In the dead hours Frodo came out of a deep dark sleep to find Sam shaking him. `It's a shame to wake you,' whispered Sam, `but that's what you said. There's nothing to tell, or not much. I thought I heard some soft plashing and a sniffing noise, a while back; but you hear a lot of such queer sounds by a river at night.'

He lay down, and Frodo sat up, huddled in his blankets, and fought off his sleep. Minutes or hours passed slowly, and nothing happened. Frodo was just yielding to the temptation to lie down again when a dark shape, hardly visible, floated close to one of the moored boats. A long whitish hand could be dimly seen as it shot out and grabbed the gunwale; two pale lamplike eyes shone coldly as they peered inside, and then they lifted and gazed up at Frodo on the eyot. They were not more than a yard or two away, and Frodo heard the soft hiss of intaken breath. He stood up, drawing Sting from its sheath, and faced the eyes. Immediately their light was shut off. There was another hiss and a splash, and the dark log-shape shot away downstream into the night. Aragorn stirred in his sleep, turned over, and sat up`

'What is it? ' he whispered, springing up and coming to Frodo. `I felt something in my sleep. Why have you drawn your sword? '

`Gollum,' answered Frodo. 'Or at least, so I guess.'

`Ah! ' said Aragorn. `So you know about our little footpad, do you? He padded after us all through Moria and right down to Nimrodel. Since we took to boats, he has been lying on a log and paddling with hands and feet. I have tried to catch him once or twice at night; but he is slier than a fox, and as slippery as a fish. I hoped the river-voyage would beat him, but he is too clever a waterman.

`We shall have to try going faster tomorrow. You lie down now, and I will keep watch for what is left of the night. I wish I could lay my hands on the wretch. We might make him useful. But if I cannot, we shall have to try and lose him. He is very dangerous. Quite apart from murder by night on his own account, he may put any enemy that is about on our track.'

The night passed without Gollum showing so much as a shadow again. After that the Company kept a sharp look-out, but they saw no more of Gollum while the voyage lasted.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Great River

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the great river #jrr tolkien #anduin #frodo #sam #aragorn #boromir #gollum #movie pics #peter jackson

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gamerbearmira · 3 years ago

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(SA just cause this is hilarious even though not likely right now)

"As your elder brother I believe the honor of the first dance is mine." Elrond said after he managed to slip by the brawling Fellowship and get to Mirabel, switching her flat sandals out for a pair of special made Mithril shoes his mother had made for her and enchanted to hell and back. They were designed to look just like Galandriels on purpose.

Not that Elrond would say that.

"Thank you. You all have been so nice and caring...you didn't have to do this for me and yet..." Mirabel was near tears as she smiled up at him, the two beginning to dance slowly and Galandriel was near bouncing as she had stolen Mirabels camera (try and let Isa call her a liar when she had fucking proof this time!) To take pictures of the two dancing.

"Of course we would do all of this for you. You are my sister. And the moment Mama decided to take you under her wing you became her daughter. You are one of us and we could do nothing less than give you the world." Elrond said kissing her head.

The Fellowship had stopped fighting amongst each other and were glaring at Elrond now. They had wanted the honor of their collective sisters first dance.

"You get him in the gut. I'll get him from behind." Aragon muttered to Boromir who gave a single sharp nod.

"I'll take out his knees." Frodo and Sam were on board.

"We can tackle him round the legs and put him on the ground." Merry said idly with Pippin already eyeing anything they could throw at the bastard.

"Aye my Axe would love his stomach." Gimli grunted and glared, although he had been pleased that Galandriel had allowed him to braid some of Mirabels hair and put beads in it as per Dwarven tradition.

Legolas said nothing as he moved towards the two as the dance comes to a close.

"Ah you are claiming the second dance?" Elrond asked smiling as he stepped back a step to hand Mirabel off.

Legolas said nothing and gave no indication of his motives...not until his fist slammed into Elronds jaw.

"I was gonna change her shoes and give my baby sister her first dance!" Legolas said and Elrond looked stunned before his eyes narrowed. He wiped the blood from his split lip and then lunged at Legolas.

The brawl was restarted and Mirabel sighed heavily. She let them fight for a while as she danced with Antonio...then she removed her new Mithril shoes with heels...and she threw it, knocking four of them (Boromir, Gimli, Elrond and Legolas) in the head all at once before it came back to her hand. Enchanted to always return to her hand.

The Hobbits and Aragon immediately froze and ducked their heads to show they weren't fighting anymore. No shoe for them thanks!

NOT ELROND GETTING DECKED AFTER SUCH A SENTIMENTAL MOMENT 😭😭😭

And then Mirabel just chucking her heels. 🗿🗿 The Hobbits and Aragon know what’s up, they not playing around ☠️☠️ ALSO THE BRAIDS???? GIMLI IS SO COOL <333

Mirabel and Elrond when the others are fighting:

#encanto #encanto au #au #my asks are open #my asks #encanto mirabel #lotr fellowship #fellowship of the ring #lotr #encanto of the rings

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quentafeanorians · 8 months ago

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It was with great pleasure that Rocheru listened to his young ward's recounting of the past days and his efforts with the young mare. In truth, Rocheru knew much of this already, from seeing the boy in some of those moments, and from what he learned from the horses themselves. Though most eldar, and edain as well to a degree, could learn to communicate with these noble animals by mastering the understanding of their body language, and in the case of some eldar who were capable of it, by touching their minds in the way of ósanwe, Rocheru had been bestowed with a rarer gift from lord Nahar himself, long ago, upon the spring meadows of Valinor. It was his gift to be able to communicate with horses freely, and to a depth unattainable to others. And thus, he knew much of what occurred at the pastures and stables, the intricacies of the lives of the horses under his care.

But hearing it all recounted by Boromir revealed to him the side horses could not; it was the boy's experience, attitude, and understanding of his own actions that interested Rocheru so, for they gave him deeper insight into the boy's heart.

And he was much pleased with what he was hearing, glad both to find kindness and patience in his words, as well as a perception of his need for friendship. Not only that, but his genuine willingness to put work into it, and to adjust his own instinctual behaviour to the needs of others pleased Rocheru the most, reassuring him that Boromir was nurturing kindness in his heart, and maturing with a foundation of it that could serve him in later years of his life, when harsher choices and challenges would be thrust upon him.

"Ah, but of course." He smiled wider to the question posed, but raised his hand to calm the boy's enthusiasm just a touch. "And I will tell you in but a moment. However first I must praise you, for you have done well giving Gwilwileth the space she needed to see into your heart and judge whether it was worthy of her trust." He said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder and giving it an approving squeeze.

"You have discerned her judgment well also." He assured too, keeping his hand on the boy's shoulder to maintain the warm touch. "For shy as she might be, and not entirely able to understand all the words you might have spoken to her, she is very perceptive to your intentions, and your efforts have gained you not only her trust but liking also. That I know from her herself." He smiled.

"Now another task is laid before you, if you wish to truly become her friend in the manner you've described. I've begun by teaching you respect towards horses, and ways in which you should and shouldn't behave around them to be their friend. With these lessons you have done well. I am very proud of you, dear one." He said, and his pride shone in his blue eyes and in the warmth of his smile as he looked upon the boy, rubbing over his shoulder some.

"From now on I shall begin teaching you how to understand the language of body and movement the horses speak. How through being keen to the subtleties of it, you will be able to understand their intentions and wishes, and befriend them in a way few men aside those most skilled and mindful of my teachings in Rohan can achieve." He promised and took a sip of their shared drink, finishing the cups' contents and setting it aside on the bench.

"Now then, to today's plan!" He said brightly, and with energy befitting more his youthful appearance than his true age, he sprung up to his feet and stretched his spine with arms raised above his head.

"We will start with these new teachings right away but a little at the time, so do not worry about me giving you days worth of lecture." He promised in light jest, gesturing at Boromir to follow as he started towards the stable. "We will go beyond the valley today, while the temperature is not yet scorching and where the trees shall shield us from Arien's warmth a little. You will ride Ethuilross, I my dearest Laire, and we shall take Gwilwileth with us so she may enjoy the excursion in to the forest beyond the valley where she's not had the chance to venture yet." He explained as he led the boy through the building and out onto the pastures so they may call to them the horses that would be carrying them.

Ached and sore limbs pushed ever further, the final strain that came about from a squat and descend, onto a bench that supported both the thighs and the tender muscles of the back. Shoulders that seemed burden by the weight of the whole world upon them, thus relieved and comforted by more than just gentle companionship, the heft of a cup between Boromir's dirty hands, thereafter raised to his lips and savored. Warmed from the elements but sweet to taste; a remedy not so commonly served in Gondor, flavors unsampled before but nevertheless pleased by, the rush of refreshment perfect for a parched tongue and dry throat. Perspiration on the forehead already started to clear away, the last droplets finding safe landing on a tunic neckline, Boromir did as was told. Caught his breath - the lift of his chest eased into a much slower, lackadaisical pace - rested his weary body until the hurt throughout it abated. Converted into a dull throb; able to be borne for the time that remained with Rocheru, the precious seconds devoted to pastures and story-sharing.

Offered drink returned to Rocheru, blush and smile bloomed. Boromir reformed to a child much younger than his age - distant years when such terms of endearment were not so foreign, spoken as freely as the horses who were under the elder Elf's care. When there was love to be found in words and not direct orders, before gentle caress was replaced by war strategy and combat technique. Stunned to absolute silence, for even his exhale was suspended between them, he and Rocheru, Boromir merely stared at his feet on the ground. Rounded toe tips that were baked in stable mud and hay; tears strung within the eyes, threatened to boil over but the resolve of a steward-prince able to restrain. Prevent their flow and subdue all others; the choked voice, the staggered inhale of delicious Rivendell winds, the tremble dispersed across entire physique. Repercussions for Boromir's terrible faults. His lack of control, sudden slip and fall into behaviors declared most unsuitable for someone of his nature, his privilege and birth, with a cough into the bend of his elbow did he regather himself.

Marshaled his thoughts - against the trace of being called dear one - murmurs propinquity to specters unseen, into the canal of the ears. Regained the wits that almost abandoned him, Gwilwileth delivered into focus both within mind and confession.

Boromir began, glance traded from shoes to Rocheru, an almost shy expression upon his face. "Well, Sir, in honest, all credit for my progress must be ascribed to you. Your lessons, they have shown me much in the ways of horses. What to do, what not to do. Truly, I've only done as you've taught me. Well... most."

"I have noticed that Gwilwileth looks on me every time I wander into her pastures. As if I were some strange thing that stumbled in - a funny little bug or a dog with just three legs. Whenever I set to do my chores, I felt her gaze upon me. For a bit, I feared her eyes would burn holes into my shirt! I continued to do as you told - fed her and her kin, mucked out their stalls, cleaned their hooves and brushed their manes. I never dared to get close to her. She did not seem the sort to welcome unwanted attention, nor would I ever try to disobey your orders. Sir, you made those very clear, and I do not intend to bring disrespect toward you, nor your kind or your animals. My father would not want to hear of it; I wouldn't want to bear it."

Boromir carried on. "And so, I kept my distance from her. Physically, that is. It's quite funny, actually, Rocheru, sir. I started to talk to her. I spoke to her as I do with you and the other Elves in Rivendell. I shared stories of my home. I explained the history of my people, the awesomeness of Gondor. I told her of my family and friends, my father and my little brother, the girl who kissed my cheek when I saved her kitten from a tree. I admitted to some of my fears. I reenacted my greatest victories! All achieved in the efforts of my training, yes, but just as fantastic, I assure you! Sir, I think Gwilwileth has begun to consider me a friend, of sorts. Though talk has been more so one-sided, I do think she sees me as more than your loyal pupil. I have earned her trust. In the very least, I do hope so!"

"I have never had a friend like that. None other than the hounds that make up my father's hunting party or the messenger dogs of the army. My responsibilities don't allow me the time for such. I do think, though, Sir, I would love to have one. A friendship of that kind; something hard-earned and fought for. Not made because of where I am, of who I am. I suppose, I just have to prove my truthful intentions with Gwilwileth, do I not? Maybe, Sir, you could show me how?"

Brief passes into blissful lull, the time Boromir spent checking his nails and watching Rocheru's response, he remembered. "Ah! Rocheru, you must tell me! What did you have in mind for today? Before my mind forgets me entire, I must know!"

#sonxofxgondor #v: rocheru

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writinginsunlitcorners · 3 years ago

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Random LOTR thought of the day.

I love the LOTR movie trilogy with all my heart. But man there are two things, two, that genuinely tick me off. (1) That stupid scene in The Return of the King when Frod sends Sam away. In case you are just a movie fan who doesn’t know better; Frodo never sent Sam away in the book. Its very out of character. Its also OOC for Sam to leave. In the book they both enter the caves and both get attacked by Shelob. At some point Gollum corners Sam while Shelob is attacking and Sam is forced to fight for his life while Frodo is pursued by Shelob. They get separated here and by the time Sam finds Frodo it is too late.

I don’t understand why Peter Jackson didn’t just tweak this situtation to fit his narrative. Why do you have to fabricate a weird fight scene to split up the hobbits when they LITERALLY get split up in the caves later on? I know it’s a movie and you can’t do a scene exactly the same because some stuff doesn’t translate well - but it can be similar can’t it??? Just work with the timeline so it flows better with how the events play out in the movie! Like, if they wanted Frodo to face Shelob alone just make Gollum attack Sam sooner, somewhere in the maze of dark caves where Frodo wouldn't be able to see what happened. For example, Frodo could be moving forward doggedly with Sam behind him protectively, sword drawn. Sam hears a noise under his feet and stoops down to investigate. He discovers some bones in webs. Sam sits up to warn Frodo (who didn’t realize Sam stopped and is now a few paces forward) and Gollum silently jumps on Sam’s back and attacks him, slamming his head on a rock and dropping him into a mess of dark webs. Frodo, unaware of what has happened, tries to call out for Sam and begins to frantically search. Maybe he stumbles on a bit of gunk and falls down a slimy slope in Shelob’s lair. He lays, listening. He hears Smeagol laughing. “Not coming back, precious, noooo. The fat-one can’t come back can he?” So now, Frodo is alone and can only conclude Gollum has betrayed them and taken Sam out. This still allows for Frodo to be alone in the caves full of guilt because he would feel responsible for trusting Gollum and getting Sam killed. It would also help Sam's emotional devastation when he realizes he's been overpowered and is too late to save his friend. (of course you could rearrange some of the movie beats. You could change the beginning; Make Frodo to pass out from the sheer weight of the ring, and have Sam rush to comfort him. This gives Smeagol a chance to wack Sam and toss him down one of Shelob’s many tunnels. Then Frodo could wake up alone. Again this is a vague idea so the actual rubriks may need work)

ANYWAY. In this format you can still get Frodo wandering alone, Frodo seeing Galadriel in the caves, Frodo being attacked by Shelob from behind, and Sam’s epic entrance at a pivotal moment. PJ, I don’t understand why you thought a nonsensical falling-out was a more emotional or dramatic scene than Sam and Frodo getting separated by forces out of their control; failing not because they were disloyal, but because they were betrayed.

(2) Faramir’s characterization in the Two Towers. What the heck??? I do not understand why PJ thought we need to assassinate this poor man’s personality so we could put yet another power-hungry man in Frodo’s path.

So, the Hobbits need to go to Osgiliath. OK? How about instead of Faramir being like “Ah yis, let’s take the super evil ring to my jerk-of-a-dad,” we give him another motivation. I have two ideas off the top of my head.

a) In the book Faramir does not know exactly what “Isildur’s bane” is, no one in Gondor does. I am going to keep that plotline in tact. When Faramir finds out Sam and Frodo set out from Rivendell, he wonders if they have Isildur’s Bane, if other members of the fellowship have it, or if these two have abandoned the company for their own goals. Frodo and Sam are secretive once Frodo finds out Faramir is Boromir’s brother, and Frodo warns Sam not to say anything about the Ring or the quest. Because of their silence, Faramir doesn’t know what to think of Frodo and Sam, especially after he meets Gollum. When he questions Gollum he learns Gollum came from Morder and is leading Sam and Frodo there. Now, Faramir doesn’t know Mordor is the one place on earth the ring can be destroyed, and he knows very little of the Ring in general. What he does know is Frodo, Sam and Gollum are suspicious characters on their way to enemy territory, perhaps with a dangerous weapon. They have refused to give him any details about the fate of the Fellowship. For all he knows, these people are spies of Sauron. When he hears Osgiliath is under attacks he brings the hobbits not because he wants power or glory, but because his life is forfeit if he releases to foreigners without proper examination by the Steward of Gondor.

It is in Osgiliath when Frodo breaks down and tells Faramir what’s going on. Maybe a Black Rider attacks (kinda like in the actual movie) and Faramir saves Frodo and Sam, or maybe it’s just some orc or wild man. The point is, Faramir sees the Ring and is tempted but doesn’t make a move to claim it for his own. The hobbits now feel that can trust Faramir and tell him everything. Faramir lets the hobbits go without an examination. He knows he could technically be killed but he does it anyway because he trusts that Sam and Frodo are honest, and things play out pretty much the Sam as they do in the actual movie. But maybe with less Faramir choking out Gollum.

b) Faramir finds out Frodo and Sam have the Ring when he questions Gollum. However, instead of Faramir being like “MWAHAHAAHA I’ve got you nooooow!” He offers the Hobbits protection. He tells them there are secret underground tunnels beneath Osgiliath that lead out of the city and away from Gondor. (maybe they were made by men of Numenor as a way of sneaking in an out of the country in the early days when Morgoth still roamed or something like that.) He explains that Sauron’s forces are crawling all over the countryside right now, and the Wild men are not to be trifled with. If Frodo and Sam travel with the Rangers they will have protection from Sauron’s men all the way to Osgiliath, and from there they can go underground for miles before resurfacing in somewhat safer lands.

Both of these options are better than that cold, distant Fakeamir and both would flow better into The Return of the King’s version of Faramir which is much more faithful to the book than Two Towers is.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love the LOTR films and I love a lot of the Faramir content we have. The scene where he sees Boromir’s boat? So Sad! The scene with him and Pippin? Adorable! the fanservice moment where he meets Eowyn and they hold hands? Beautiful!! The script does a lot of stuff right! Unfortunately it also did a few things wrong. Faramir’s OOC moments in TTT don’t ruin the movie or trilogy for me, but they never fail to rile me up. (However, at least with Faramir I kind of understand why, from a film perspective, they would make some changes - even though I really disagree with their decision. With Shelob absent from the middle movie we need an emotional low for Frodo and Sam - voila , the Osgiliath scene. We need them in Osgiliath - voila! Faramir takes them there. Now we get to see more of a journey for Faramir before he rejects the ring. Perfect! Again I disagree with the change and think there are better ways to add an emotional low but I see why the powers that be thought it would be a good idea. BUT FRODO SENDING SAM AWAY?? SAM LEAVING FRODO?? HUH?????)

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wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse · 4 years ago

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A Peculiar Hobbit (Pippin x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1857

Warnings: fluff, fighting

Requested: by anon

I thought this would be a fun write, and I had a lot of freedom with this one and it was fun! Short and sweet! Might possibly do a part 2, maybe super angsty, who knows?

You walked through the stacks of books, trying to find the right one for your research. “No no no, this isn’t right!” you talked to yourself, almost kicking a stack of papers in your frustration. “They must have gotten lost. These boneheads lost valuable information, they’ll have hell to pay.” This time, you kicked another stack of books, and it fell. It slammed down onto your legs, and you cried out in pain. You fell to the ground, and moved the books off of you, rubbing the sore spot it left.

“Um, excuse me,” You heard from the darkened corner. Whoever was speaking had a peculiar accent. It sounded like a male, but a young one. “I hope I’m not interrupting something. I was sent here to find something, and well, it seems like something happened?”

You rolled your eyes, you had a bad enough day already. Now you had to deal with actual people. “Well, I am fine enough. What can I do for you?” You tried your hardest to speak in a polite manner, but it came out a bit snappy. It was odd to speak to darkness in the corners anyway. Who could blame you?

“Miss, I truly am sorry for interrupting, if you just want me to leave, I will.” The voice stuttered.

You sighed. “I promise it is fine. Come in.” The fire was dwindling, so you threw some more kindling in, giving the stranger some time. When you turned around you saw a child looking at you. No, he had the height of a child. But he looked older. Clearly, you looked astonished, as the child thing started chuckling.

“Oh, you have never seen a Hobbit before. For someone that spends much time in here, you haven’t seen much outside. What is your name miss?” He spoke between his laughs. His cheeks were a merry red, and his curls framed his face.

But something about his statement rubbed you the wrong way. “Well excuse me, you know nothing about me. You don’t know whether I go outside or not, whether I spend all my time in here.” You spoke indignantly, after all, who was he to judge your lifestyle. This only caused him to laugh even more. “And for your information, I know exactly what a Hobbit is, I just have never come across one. Very well then, go find what you’re looking for. Also, my name is y/n, not that you need to know.”

“Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He grinned and began looking around, leaving you with your mouth gaping.

As he shuffled through the books and scrolls, you looked at him curiously, at his frame, his size. As you scanned him, you noticed things that made him look less of a child. His chest was broader, and his arms were bigger. His face still had a childish innocence about it, one that hadn’t quite been taken during these dark times. His cheekbones were beginning to hollow out though, and the light in his eyes was probably not as bright as they used to be.

He sneezed, making you jump, and you hurried over to where he was, making sure he hadn’t disturbed too much. You picked up some books, placed them on the counter, and began questioning him. “Now tell me, what is your name?”

“Peregrin. Peregrin Took,” he stated proudly.

I cocked an eyebrow, doubtful of that. He seemed to be too much of a jokester to have such a formal name like Peregrin. It was a nice name, no doubt, but it didn’t fit. “Peregrin hm? Are you sure?”

He looked down bashfully, but then looked up with a sly grin. “Ok fine, I go by Pippin. Now that you have seen a hobbit, your life is complete! Especially since that hobbit is me.” He winked, and you suppressed a smile, not wanting him to be egged on. “Anyways, I am the best hobbit for you to meet since I am the most handsome. I have the best smile, except maybe my friend Merry, he has a good smile. Oh also, my friend Frodo, he has good eyes.” His smile faltered for a second.

“Are you ok?” You questioned.

He looked up from the scrolls he was reading, the happiness he previously had slowly melted away. “Aye, I am alright. I am. But I don’t know about the rest of my companions.”

You grabbed two cushions and planted them on the floor. “Would you like to talk about it?”

He nodded and sat next to you. It became apparent how much he had lost during this time. He told you about his home, The Shire, and how he ended up on this journey. The encounters he had along the way. How they were in danger very quickly. He also told how he lost many friends, including the Captain of Gondor, Boromir. He teared up, telling the sacrifice he made to save them, even if it didn’t at first. It hurt to see such a fragile creature have the need to toughen up, to harden, to scar. He spoke of his friends leaving, how he was not sure where they might be. If they were still alive.

Once he was finished, you spoke. “Well, that is certainly a story to tell. And there will be more chapters to your book. I sincerely hope everything goes your way, a person as young as you should not have had to go through all of this.”

He smirked, his happy demeanor slowly coming back. “How young do you think I am? I am 29, a fairly good age if I do say so myself.”

You spluttered, surprised at that. You remember reading somewhere something about that, but you thought it was rubbish. “You must be joking. No way are you older than me!”

Pippin smiled and nodded. “Well, I hate to break it to you, no, I love to break it to you, I am 29. Not younger, not older.”

“Hmm, interesting,” You hummed, picking yourself up off the ground. “Well, we should probably find what you’re looking for.” You turned around, accidentally slamming into a huge pile of books. Something about that hobbit made you flustered and turned you into a clumsy mess. And this was not going to get better. The pile slowly teetered, and you stayed frozen, unable to move your legs.

“Y/n, watch out!” Pippin yelled, tackling you to the ground. Just in time, the stack made an earthshattering sound when it hit the ground, sending dust everywhere. Pippin laid on top of you, his head resting on your chest.

You coughed, and he rolled off, laying next to you instead. “Thank you,” you whispered, brushing some of the dust off of your clothes. Pippin’s curls were covered in dust, and he smiled wryly, brushing some specks off your forehead. You cleared your throat and he pulled away quickly, the slightest hint of pink warming his cheeks.

He sat up quickly, brushing the rest of the debris off of himself. “Well, this wasn’t what I expected when I decided to make my way down here, but it was better than I could have hoped for.” He helped you sit up and then planted a kiss on your cheek. “Until next time!” he joyously called, skipping back up the stairs. You touched where he kissed you, beaming. This was going to be a better day than most days.

Everything was going fine, and you kept on replaying the time you had spent with Pippin until you heard a large boom, shaking the entire city. You heard the war cry of thousands of orcs and realized very quickly that you were under attack. “Damn it! This is why I shouldn’t have holed up here!” You yelled, quickly grabbing your sword from the dustiest, dark corner. It was a gift from your father, that he had trained you to use, but you thought you would never need.

You sped up the stairs, reaching sunlight. You shielded your face, letting your eyes adjust to the brightness, before turning to the pathway. You jogged through, trying to conserve some of your energy, though it might all be in vain. Objects were being thrown at the city, tumbling buildings and humans alike. All was chaos, and it swept you into it.

You made it to a small alcove where you could see the army that had amassed before Gondor. The army that would bring the fall. Your sword hung loosely by your side, and you saw everything flash before your eyes. Memories forgotten, brought back, people you vaguely remembered. How much you had missed out on the world, hiding out in your book-hole instead. How much you could have seen if you had taken the chance. And now it was your time to go, just like that. You shook yourself out of that stupor, and raced on, trying to get farther up.

Soldiers were being rallied by a stranger in white cloaks, and you passed by, working your way up farther. Out of nowhere, a person turned the corner, slamming into you. You fell to the ground, your sword clattering. “I’m sorry,” you spoke hurriedly, picking up the sword and moving on.

“Well, are you really just going to run off like that?” Pippin asked in his strong accent. You turned back, your jaw dropped. You had never expected him to be part of a battle, but here he was. You didn’t have time to answer before another crowd of orcs attacked. You took down as many as you could, and heard a cry of pain from behind you. You turned to see Pippin’s sword cutting deep through an orc. He had some bruises on his face but otherwise, he was fine. You grabbed him, pulling him away from the chaos. A battle was no place for a hobbit.

“What are you doing?” He yelled, thrashing his arms about. You grit your teeth, finally at the citadel.

You sighed, turning to look at him. “I need you to be safe. If I know you’re out here fighting, it will only distract me.”

He crossed his arms, his face slightly pouted. All of a sudden, his eyes lit up, and a smirk grew on his face. “Fine, I’ll stay here. On one condition. Let me kiss you. Just once.” He laughed, and you looked astounded at his cockiness.

You had nothing left to lose though, so you agreed. “Okay, I will, but I am warning you Pippin, no tongue.” He grinned, and leaned in, planting a kiss directly on your lips. He didn’t linger for too long, his chapped lips creating a little friction. He pulled away first, leaving you a little dazed. You shook yourself out of your stupor and brushed your hair out of your face. “Goodbye, Pippin. I will see you soon,” you promised, even though you knew it was unlikely. He knew it was unlikely as well, you could see it in his eyes, but he still had a little bit of hope. And even a little bit of hope goes a long way.

#Pippin x reader #pippin #pippin x y/n #pippin x you #lotr #lotr writing #lotr oneshot

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