#musings; rohir

[lightinxthedark]

((tag drop 5

[abrazimir]

📝 gimme plots for ALL OF EM, erran! (for lothiriel but also for any of my other muses if you'd like, like? just go wild)

Send me a 📝 and I’ll suggest a plot - ACCEPTING for all blogs! 

GO WILD Pippa says ajhshak RIGHT THEN! 

BOROMIR

- Fuckin, we’ll start off agonisingly self indulgent; what if one of Lothiriel’s daughters was a WHOLE lesbian and she wanted to talk to Boromir about it - I think Boromir and Lothiriel should solve a murder mystery together I think one of the Thanes should be killed and they have to solve it OR OOoo or perhaps Lothiriel herself is recieved poorly by a few in rohan and she’s framed for something in order to get her sent away.   - MASQUERADE! Masquerade in Dol amroth!!! I know we have a festival thread already but!! 

THEODRED

- Ok the self indulgent one will be the one at the beginning but perhaps a discussion with Theodred towards the end of his four years of trying to be a good king where he’s realising he’s just driving people apart and perhaps that conversation drives him a little towards realising what he’s gotta do. - Theodred telling Lothiriel absolutely every single embarassing thing Eomer’s ever done.  - Lothiriel finding out??? Theodred writes poetry?? Hijinks ensue!!

SARTE

- Oldest thing meets youngest Amrothian at Aragorn’s wedding and tells her the Rohir she’s pining for (after glimpsing him before he left minas tirith to bury his uncle) looks just like eorl the young did. She gives no further explanation.  - Sarte lists all of Gandalf’s crimes to a girl who’s barely even met him.  - Sarte asks Lothiriel to tell HER a story, this seems unfair  - 7′7 elf casually insults the Prince of Dol Amroth and Lothiriel THROWS HANDS about it

[aelsell]

plan of attack for today: 30 min writing sprints to finish that chapter, 15 min tumblr breaks, mainly to do replies and stuff in various muses. Rinse & Repeat. Main focus today is my sideblog Elfhild and my The Last Kingdom girls, so hmu for the respective urls if you need strong Rohiric women or strong Danish women in your life. 

[the-lupine-sojourner]

The Lightning’s Child [Prologue]

So I figured I would post the prologue to give you guys a feel for the story and see if it intrigues anyone enough to support my posting more.

Let me know what you guys think!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

Running in the rain has never been a struggle or something to hate for me.

To the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. It seemed to wash away my troubles, leaving them pounded thoroughly into the ground I left behind. 

That being said…

I had never been in a storm like this. The unusual part was just how intense it was. Normally, storms weren’t this bad here in Inverness, but here I was, out in a raging thunderstorm. 

Lightning flashed all around me, thunder drowning out whatever noise I made. I pressed on doggedly, however, refusing to let the elements beat me into submission.

Cursing, I slip just as I round a tight corner on the edge of a steep bank. I tumble harshly down the hill and just as I hit the water, I feel lightning strike my chest, right over my heart, and I know nothing but pain, then darkness takes me as I sink deeper into the water, a strange peace suddenly overcoming me as my eyes slide closed.

=#=#=#=#=

I slowly come awake to find myself leaning against something that feels like stone. I would frown if I had the energy.

I had hit the...the water...just as lightning struck me. I hadn’t been stopped by a stone. There were no stones in my path to hit. 

So...why was I leaning against stone now? Were there stones in heaven? Had I died? I move to swallow, though my mouth and throat are too dry for it to accomplish anything more than irritating my already sore throat. I hear a ringing in my ears akin to tinnitus as I moan a little.

“Aragorn, the stranger awakes.” I hear someone call, his voice melodic and pleasant, rising above the ringing. Was he an angel of some sort? Here to guide me to whatever awaits the dead? I then hear shuffling and feel a hand upon my brow.

“Gimli, bring water. Our guest is starting to burn with dehydration.” Another voice orders, this one a natural leader, a voice of authority, his deep, rich baritones calming. Was this ‘Aragorn’?

“Aye.” A gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice replies, moving away to obey the command. I shift my eyes and they slit open. I suddenly am aware of warmth coming from a source directly in front of me and a light crackling noise. My eyes open more to reveal that I am sitting before a fire in the small hours before dawn. I blink. How long had I been out? I’d been running in the early morning…but not this early.

I am then drawn to the man beside me I hadn’t noticed before as he accepts something from the figure I take to be Gimli, presumably the requested water. His back was turned to me, so I could not be certain. “Pleasure to see you awake, lass. You gave us quite a shock.” Gimli (I recognize his voice from earlier) politely informs me, tipping his head slightly, red hair plaited down his back and beard nearly hiding everything but his eyes. The guy with a leader’s voice (Aragorn, I think) moves the thing he took from Gimli closer to my mouth and I am somehow able to move and accept the water, gulping large mouthfuls down greedily. I suppose a lightning strike would do that to you.

“Careful. You do not wish to drink too much and end up worse for it.” The man who had requested the water from Gimli orders. He slowly withdraws the water.

I nod slowly, wiping my mouth and looking at Gimli again. 

He could be a native of Scotland. The frizzy red hair, the full beard, the manner in which he speaks, I’ve heard and seen it all before.

“Th-thanks.” I croak through my slightly parched throat. Aragorn sits back a little, smiling as he puts the water aside. I note it’s in some kind of bag, but set that aside for now as the third member of this trio, the one that informed Aragorn that I was awake, comes forth.

“What are your symptoms, milady?” He asks, crouching at my other side. I frown. ‘Milady’?

“Ringing in my ears, a migraine, and a parched throat.” I report. 

‘Aragorn’ nods. “All signs of dehydration. However, we are near a river. How did you come to be in this condition?” He asks. I struggle to sit up again and end up against the rock once more.

“Lightning strike.” I tell them. Gimli scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but Aragorn glances at him, and Gimli stills.

“Milady, there has been no rain here in weeks. How could you have been struck by lightning?” It was clear none of the three men believe me, but that was definitely what happened to me before I woke up...wherever this is. 

I frown. There most certainly had been rain. Just last night, unless I had been unconscious far longer than I thought. And why do they insist on calling me ‘milady’? Odd...

“I don’t- -I was in a storm. I was running around Loch Ness, and- -”

“Loch Ness?” Aragorn asks. “Never have I heard of a place by that name, and I know these lands well.”

“It’s just over…” I start before realizing that I had no clue where I was. This place feels unfamiliar. “Aren’t we near a lake?” Aragorn shakes his head.

“There is no lake in Rohan, mi- -”

“Rowena.” I interject. I wasn’t used to being addressed by anything else. “My name is Rowena.” 

Aragorn nods. “Very well. There are no lakes in Rohan, Rowena.” He repeats. I frown. Why does the name Rohan sound familiar..?

“Rohan?” I ask. 

Gimli comes forward. “Aye, Rohan. Where else should we be?”

“Um...Scotland?” I reply, now feeling strong enough to sit up and accomplishing the goal at last. Aragorn steadies me with a hand on my back.

“There is no Scotland in Middle-Earth, Rowena.” I pale, swaying a little in shock. Wait… “Where exactly do you think you are?” Aragorn asks. Good question, I muse inwardly. I swallow.

“My...my home in...oh, man…” Suddenly, everything clicks and I groan, realizing what this means; I had somehow been transported to Middle-Earth, a fictional land in a book series I hadn’t read in years. 

In fact, I’d never even finished reading it all the way through; I only got to Two Towers before my life became too busy and I was too bored to continue reading. “Okay…” I breath. “I am sorry. My mind was...was hazy.” I apologize, trying to sound more confident that I knew where I was now than I truly felt. “So, we are in Rohan?” 

Aragorn apparently can tell I lie, but does not press me. “Yes. We are tracking Uruk-Hai across these lands to rescue our companions.” I searched my memory. Someone created Uruk-Hai, right? In a palace-tower thing? And Halflings...were Hobbits, if I remember right. I nod. “We came across you when we stopped for the night. On our approach, I swore nothing was here, but you were lying against the rock when we arrived to rest for a few hours.” I nod again, processing all this information.

“So I’ve only been out for a few hours?” Aragorn nods.

“As far as we can tell, yes.”

“Gave us quite a scare, you did. Thought you were dead, we did, but here you are.” Gimli adds cheerily. 

I’m not sure how to reply to that. 

Aragorn then frowns, moving to get a better look at me. “I would say you are Gondorian, by your dark hair, but you have the eyes of a Rohir.” I chuckle.

“Not an uncommon combination, where I am from.” I reply before I can stop myself. The trio stiffens, but Aragorn and the still unknown man (he’s startlingly beautiful and entrancing to look at) act as though suspicions were merely being confirmed.

“Are you not from here, lady Rowena?” The only member whose name I don’t know asks, his platinum blonde hair swaying as he tilts his head curiously. “There is something foreign in your presence and countenance, but perhaps you are simply a traveler.” I suppose that’s somewhat true. A traveler between worlds, apparently. I swallow.

“...No. I am from a...a very distant land, far, far away.” 

Aragorn leans forward. “Tell me. I know of many lands.”

“...A land called Scotland, in what I believe may be an entirely different world.” I reply after a moment. 

Aragorn frowns, a calculating gaze fixed on me. “And yet, you wear clothes that seem from this world.” He notes. I look down, frowning. I realize that I have, indeed, gotten a change of clothes. Where I should have been wearing drenched running capris, a three-quarter sleeve shirt, and running shoes, there was now a pair of cotton leggings, thick and warm against night’s chill with a simple off-white shirt under a thick, fur-lined coat, complete with grey knit arm warmers to keep my forearms warm when I remove the coat. I was also wearing a pair of knee-length leather boots that seemed already molded to my feet, fur peeking out. I blink.

“I was not wearing this a moment ago. I was running around a lake in a thunderstorm when I stumbled and fell, lightning striking me as I hit the water.” I explain, finding a satchel beside me. I had never seen it before and yet it seemed familiar to me. 

Aragorn frowns. “Why were you running in a thunderstorm? Were you being pursued?” 

I shake my head. “I am stubborn and didn’t let the rain deter me from my daily run. I shouldn’t have done it, but the storm crept up on me. Normally, storms aren’t that bad where I’m from, but this one was easily the worst I’ve been in.” I explain. The three men look at me strangely.

“Your...daily run?” Aragorn asks. I nod.

“My daily exercise. I run around six miles a day.” Gimli guffaws, but Aragorn nods.

“If that is true or not, we will soon know. Our pursuit is delayed by your arrival, milady, and now we must press on. You are to come with us, I’m afraid. I would not risk harm to you in these lands and we are out of other options.” I nod, grabbing my satchel, pulling the strap over my head and settling it in a position that would not (hopefully) hinder my running.

“Alright then.” I tell them, motioning them on. “Right behind you.”

“Lass, are yeh sure?” Gimli asks. “It’s no easy task.” 

I take a breath. “I’m feeling steady now and I don’t know this area at all. I’ll manage.” 

Aragorn sighs as he kicks dirt on the small fire and adjusts his small pack. “Then let us be off.”

=#=#=#=#=

I regret my decision! 

My legs are aching and my breath has long since abandoned me. My satchel has created a bruise against my thigh and I am about to pass out or give up, letting them run on without me.

“Keep breathing. That’s the key.” Gimli groans beside me, falling a little behind. “Just keep breathing.” I nod, but can’t speak as I press on doggedly. It felt as though I were on my first run. It was nearing 11:00 in the morning and not once had we stopped.

These three must be truly desperate to reclaim their friends if they press themselves past physical limits like this. 

A thought then occurs to me. The friends we’re trying to rescue were kidnapped. So, how are we going to be able to fight off whatever awaits us if we are exhausted from running? I ignore the thought and continue on.

I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

[eohere]

Hello there! This is an independent, selective RP blog for PRINCE THEODRED from Tolkien’s Legendarium. I am book-based with no influence from the films and I will stick to roleplaying within book timelines, characters and events. I will also not be doing crossovers or modern AU’s, my muse for Theodred is pretty tightly tied to the world and circumstances he’s involved in I’m afraid!

I go by ERRAN  and they/them pronouns. I am 27 and I live in the UK so GMT time. Theodred is a somewhat selective muse of mine but I’ve developed his character very specifically and with it some amount of Rohir culture. However I’m very happy and eager to incorperate other’s meta surrounding Rohan! You also might find me complaining about how Theodred was portrayed in the films and, indeed… complaints about the films in general! These will be tagged film critical.

Feel free to IM me, send me asks and whatever else if we’re mutuals! Plotting always welcome. Other blogs are BOROMIR II, ANARION SON OF ELENDIL and my CUIVIENEN ELF OC.

[the-lupine-sojourner]

The Lightning’s Child {Prologue}

Summary: Running in a thunderstorm was clearly not Rowena O’Neil’s brightest idea. In fact, it cost her her life. 

Or so she thought. She then appears out of nowhere in the fields of Rohan as the Three Hunters run to retrieve the Hobbits. She bears strange markings, like a leaf-less tree, imprinted on her left side and limbs from the lightning that sucked her from her world, running with the Hunters, right into Eomer. 

Uses books, movies, and my twists. 

Features Eomer/OC as main couple & canon couples.

AN: I’VE READ SOME STORIES LIKE THIS AND THOUGHT I’D GIVE IT A WHIRL! HOPE YOU ALL LIKE! 

~HOBBIT OF ROHAN

Running in the rain has never been a struggle or something to hate for me.

To the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. It seemed to wash away my troubles, leaving them pounded thoroughly into the ground I left behind. That being said…

I had never been in a storm like this. Guess that's what I get for choosing to live in the mountains of Scotland near Loch Ness. I suppose they had a charm I couldn't resist and a peace well worth the occasional storm my choice of habitat cost me. But, again, this was worse than any I had run in before. Lightning flashed all around me, thunder drowning out whatever noise I made. I pressed on doggedly, however, refusing to let the elements beat me into submission.

Cursing, I slip just as I round a tight corner on the edge of a steep bank of the mysterious lake. I tumble harshly down the hill and just as I hit the water, I feel lightning strike my chest, right over my heart, and I know nothing but pain, then darkness takes me as I sink deeper into the water, a strange peace suddenly overcoming me as my eyes slide closed.

=#=#=#=#=

I slowly come to to find myself leaning against something that feels like stone. I would frown if I had the energy.

I had hit the...the water...just as lightning struck me. I hadn't been stopped by a stone. There were no stones in my path to hit, really. So...why was I leaning against stone now? Were there stones in heaven? Had I died? I move to swallow, though my mouth and throat are too dry for it to accomplish anything more than irritating my already sore throat. I hear a ringing in my ears akin to tinnitus as I moan a little.

"Aragorn, the stranger awakes." I hear someone call, his voice melodic and pleasant, rising above the ringing. Was he an angel of some sort? Here to guide me to whatever awaits the dead? I then hear shuffling and a hand upon my brow.

"Gimli, bring water. Our guest is starting to burn with dehydration." Another voice orders, this one a natural leader, a voice of authority, his deep, rich baritones calming.

"Aye." A gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice replies, moving away to obey the command. I shift my eyes and they slit open. I suddenly am aware of warmth coming from a source directly in front of me and a light crackling noise. My eyes open more to reveal that I am sitting before a fire in the small hours before dawn. I blink. How long had I been out? I'd been running in the early morning…but not this early.

I am then drawn to the man beside me I hadn't noticed before as he accepts something from the figure I take to be Gimli, presumably the requested water. His back was turned to me, so I could not be certain. "Pleasure to see you awake, lass. You gave us quite a shock." Gimli (I recognize his voice from earlier) politely informs me, tipping his head slightly, red hair plaited down his back and beard nearly hiding everything but his eyes. Aragorn, I think, moves the thing he took from Gimli closer to my mouth and I am somehow able to move and accept the water, gulping large mouthfuls down greedily. I suppose a lightning strike would do that to you.

"Careful." Aragorn cautions. I know he is Aragorn now that I have heard his voice. "You do not wish to drink too much and end up worse for it." I nod slowly, looking at Gimli again, and find that he could be a native of Scotland. The frizzy red hair, the full beard, the manner in which he speaks, I've heard and seen it all before.

"Th-thanks." I croak through my slightly parched throat. Aragorn sits back a little, smiling as he puts the water aside. I note it's in some kind of bag, but set that aside for now as the third member of this trio, the one that informed Aragorn that I was awake, comes forth.

"What are your symptoms, milady?" He asks, crouching at my other side. I frown. 'Milady'?

"Ringing in my ears, a migraine, and a parched throat." I report. Aragorn nods.

"All signs of dehydration. However, we are near a river. How did you come to be in this condition?" He asks. I struggle to sit up again and end up against the rock once more.

"Lightning strike." I tell them. Gimli scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but Aragorn glances at him, and Gimli stills.

"Milady, there has been no rain here in weeks. How could you have been struck by lightning?" I frown. There most certainly had been rain. Just last night, unless I had been unconscious far longer than I thought. And why do they insist on calling me 'milady'? Odd...

"I don't- -I was in a storm. I was running around Loch Ness, and- -"

"Loch Ness?" Aragorn asks. "Never have I heard of a place by that name, and I know these lands well."

"It's just over…" I start before realizing that I had no clue where I was. This place feels unfamiliar. "Aren't we near a lake?" Aragorn shakes his head.

"There is no lake in Rohan, mi- -"

"Rowena." I interject. I wasn't used to being addressed by anything else. "My name is Rowena." Aragorn nods.

"Very well. There are no lakes in Rohan, Rowena." He repeats. I frown. Why does that sound familiar..?

"Rohan?" I ask Gimli comes forward.

"Aye, Rohan. Where else should we be?"

"Um...Scotland?" I reply, now feeling up to moving to sit up and accomplishing the goal at last. Aragorn steadies me with a hand on my back.

"There is no Scotland in Middle-Earth, Rowena." I pale. Wait… "Where exactly do you think you are?" Aragorn asks. Good question, I muse inwardly. I swallow.

"My...my home in...oh, man…" Suddenly, everything clicks and I groan, realizing what this means; I had somehow been transported to Middle-Earth, a fictional land in a book series I hadn't heard or read in years. I'd never even finished reading it all the way through; I only got to Two Towers before my life became too busy and I was too bored to continue reading. "Okay…" I breath. "I am sorry. My mind was...was hazy." I apologize, trying to sound more confident that I knew where I was now than I truly felt. "So, we are in Rohan?" Aragorn apparently can tell I lie, but does not press me.

"Yes. We are tracking Uruk-Hai across these lands to rescue our companions, a pair of Halflings." I searched my memory. Someone created Uruk-Hai, right? In a palace-tower thing? And Halflings...were Hobbits, if I remember right. I nod. "We came across you when we stopped for the night. On our approach, I swore nothing was here, but you were lying against the rock when we arrived to rest for a few hours." I nod again, processing all this information.

"So I've only been out for a few hours?" Aragorn nods.

"As far as we can tell, yes."

"Gave us quite a scare, you did. Thought you were dead, but here you are, and we are glad to hear it!" Gimli adds cheerily. I smile.

"Yeah, me, too." Aragorn frowns, moving to get a better look at me.

"I would say you are Gondorian, by your dark hair, but you have the eyes of a Rohir." I chuckle.

"Not an uncommon combination, where I am from." I reply before I can stop myself. The trio stiffens, but Aragorn and the still unknown man (he's startlingly beautiful and entrancing to look at) act as though suspicions were merely being confirmed.

"Are you not from here, lady Rowena?" The only member whose name I don't know asks. "There is something foreign in your presence and countenance, but perhaps you are simply a traveler." I suppose that's somewhat true. A traveler between worlds, apparently. I swallow.

"...No. I am from a...a very distant land, far, far away." Aragorn leans forward.

"Tell me. I know of many lands."

"...A land called Scotland, in what I believe may be an entirely different world." I reply after a moment. Aragorn frowns, a calculatingly piercing gaze fixed on me.

"And yet, you wear clothes that seem from this world." He notes. I look down, frowning. I realize that I have, indeed, gotten a change of clothes. Where should have been drenched running capris, a three-quarter sleeve shirt and running shoes, there was now a pair of cotton leggings, thick and warm against night's chill with a simple shirt under a thick, fur-lined coat, complete with knit arm warmers to keep my forearms warm whenever I remove the coat. I was also wearing a pair of knee-length leather boots that seemed already molded to my feet, fur peeking out. I blink.

"I was not wearing this a moment ago. I was running around a lake in a thunderstorm, when I stumbled and fell, lightning striking me as I hit the water." I explain, finding a satchel beside me. I had never seen it before and yet it seemed familiar to me. Aragorn frowns.

"Why were you running in a thunderstorm? Were you being pursued?" I shake my head.

"I am stubborn and didn't let the rain deter me from my daily run. I see now it was a very foolish idea, but the rain did not start til I was already a few miles away from home and I didn't want to cut the run short." I explain. The three men look at me strangely.

"Your...daily run?" Aragorn asks. I nod.

"My daily exercise. I run around six miles a day." Gimli guffaws, but Aragorn nods.

"If that is true or not, we will soon know. Our pursuit is delayed by your arrival, milady, and now we must press on. You are to come with us, I'm afraid. I would not risk harm to you in these lands and we are out of other options." I nod, grabbing my satchel, pulling the strap over my head and settling it in a position that would not (hopefully) hinder my running.

"Alright then." I tell them, motioning them on. "Right behind you."

=#=#=#=#=

I regret my decision! My legs are aching and my breath has long since abandoned me. My satchel has created a bruise against my thigh and I am about to pass out or give up, letting them run on without me.

"Keep breathing. That's the key." Gimli groans beside me, falling a little behind. "Just keep breathing." I nod, but can't speak as I press on doggedly. It felt as though I were on my first run. It was nearing 11:00 in the morning and not once had we stopped.

These three must be truly desperate to reclaim their friends if they press themselves past physical limits like this, which brings me to a slightly disturbing thoughts: How are we going to be able to fight off whatever awaits us if we are exhausted from running? I ignore the thought and continue on.

I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.