#so much tension between boromir and aragorn

[sun-moon-and-stars4]

ok i harry potter’d lotr so here are my connections

frodo=harry potter, sam=ron weasley, the twin dudes=the weasley twins, aragorn=sirius black (loml in both fandoms istg) boromir=remus lupin, legolas=regulus black, dwarf dude=moody, gandalf=dumbledor (rip)

[hottpinkpenguin]

Perfect!!

I’ve read your Boromir fic (the first one I‘ve ever read) and it changed my brain chemistry. I can’t get it out of my head THE LONGINGGG

Could I humbly request an Aragorn x female reader fic where they are sparring or play fighting in a more private area and they land on top of each other? And it leads to a confession and smut/steam? I know, this trope is very original hehe

Could there also be some tension/ longing between them?  Or anything you have in mind, really I just want to see him hot and desperate 😭

I lᡣ𐭩ve your work and thank you 🫶🏻 Have a beautiful day 🥰

A/n: probably not my best work, Anon, but I hope you like it! I experimented with a slightly different narration style (rapidly switching back & forth between reader and Aragorn POV). I'm always astounded when ppl like my work so THANK YOU for reading and for the request <3 Word count: 1535 Content warnings: blood, implied smut, non-canon, steam, mutual pining

** Aragorn's POV | Reader's POV **

“Your weight is off balance, y/n.” 

You looked down at your feet reflexively, huffing in frustration as you realized he was right. Across from you, your sparring partner cracked the smallest of smiles. Graciously, Aragorn waited for you to fix your stance. You imitated him - lifting the arches of your feet slightly, your body weight suspended softly on the balls of your feet and your knees bent ever so softly. You shifted your hips in small circles around your feet, testing the surety of your new stance. It certainly felt better, but there was only one way to tell. 

“Better?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in question at Aragorn.

He missed y/n’s question entirely, his eyes hovering on her hips as she swung them softly side to side. He could just barely see a sliver of the soft flesh around her hips between the waistband of her trousers and the hem of her tunic. His mouth went dry at the sight, and at the thoughts that tore across his mind like sparks. 

“Aragorn?” 

Shit, she was talking to him. 

“Much better, yes.” Aragorn’s eyes seemed to shift in and out of focus, a strange pained look darting across his face as if you’d disturbed him from a dream. You knew that look - you’d seen it on his face ever since the Fellowship had left Rivendell some months ago. You felt silly for continuing to pine over him when his affections were so obviously spoken for. 

“Who were you thinking of, just then?” The question slipped out before you could catch it. 

He groaned internally. Had he really been that noticeable? You’re losing your touch, you old fool, he chastised himself harshly as he lifted his sword to line with y/n’s, studiously avoiding her gaze. 

You didn’t miss the way Aragorn’s eyes never met yours. It set your stomach churning on itself in embarrassment, but you forced your face to smooth. Even if you’d tried, you doubted you could draw your gaze away from his face, so handsome in his focus.

She’s looking straight at you. She knows, obviously. 

Aragorn felt his sword rise up and collide with y/n’s blade as she parried his stroke. The sudden rush of movement and strength felt good, like a wave washing his mind free of those pesky thoughts. 

Aragorn’s strikes were stronger than you were used to, and you instantly felt your recently reclaimed balance teeter dangerously. The mixture of distracting emotions and your off-kilter weight shattered your focus. You twisted your blade to block his lateral strike a second too late, and you felt the white-hot kiss of his blade dig into the muscles on your shoulder.

You hissed in surprise, trying to clear your mind from the blind of pain. 

He felt y/n hesitate across from him - a rare feat. She was unusually well-skilled with a longsword, and it was uncommon for there to be such a clear and decisive victor in their melees. If Aragorn had held his focus a moment longer, he would have noted the blood seeping from a fresh cut in her shoulder and the uncharacteristic weakness in her sword arm. But his mind was foggy from his pride’s close brush with humiliation, and it wasn’t until he collided full-force with her that he registered something had gone wrong.

One moment, you were blinking back the burning tears of unexpected pain, and the next you were resolutely pinned under Aragorn’s body. He managed to catch the back of your head deftly and gently to keep it from slapping off the frost-chilled ground. Your initial reaction was a gasp of surprise-

-y/n gasped in pain as he landed on top of her clumsily. Barely able to piece together what had happened, he began searching her body for signs of the injury-

-Aragorn’s face twisted into concern as he pulled back from you. Instinctively, you hooked a leg around his, pinning him against you-

-he was able only to pry his upper half off of her before he felt y/n’s leg grasp him against her, the sensation unlocking memories of dreams he’d found himself tumbling into each night ever since meeting her-

-you froze, your breath caught in your throat as you felt Aragorn stiffen against you. His gaze caught yours, that same pained expression you’d seen earlier flashing in his gray eyes like a reflection of sunlight on steel-

-his body went rigid, a sudden terror seizing him as he wondered if he was hopelessly misinterpreting the pressure of y/n’s leg locked around his hips, but before he could think-

-his lips were on yours, his hand moving from the back of your neck around to your throat and to the edge of your jaw. You felt him melt down against you, the stiffness in his spine softening until he was fully prone against you, his mussed curls tickling your cheeks and forehead as you reached up with your mouth, inhaling and tasting and devouring him.

Y/n let out a soft moan of contentment, the vibrations plucking a matching string in Aragorn’s desire. He dropped his sword, his free hand coming to her waist, gliding across the oiled planes of her leathers and the rough handspun wool of her tunic. His mind felt blissfully scattered, raw need catching like wildfire as it burned away the traces of conscious thought.

Each moment that the kiss deepened you felt yourself slip a little bit further away from control. His hands roamed freely across your body as you wriggled and writhed into his touch, eager to feel the pressure of his hands on every inch of your available skin. It wasn’t until he grazed over the still-stinging (but very much forgotten) cut on your shoulder that you hesitated.

Aragorn felt the tackiness of fresh blood catch on his fingertips as he grazed over her shoulder, accompanied a moment later by a reflexive wince from y/n. He broke from her embrace, glancing down at her shoulder, the beige of her tunic stained crimson.

“Gods above, what have I done?” 

You chuckled, unwilling to let Aragorn pull away fully. 

“Ignore it,” you commanded, greedily rising up to catch his lips again. He obliged, but you could sense that concern was dulling the edges of his enthusiasm. “It’s a small cut, nothing more,” you offered, hoping he would move on and attend to your other needs. 

He groaned in frustration at his own inability to ignore the wound, but Aragorn’s attentiveness to pain - your pain, above all - wouldn’t be silenced. He broke free from her lips with some difficulty long enough to inspect the wound. She was right - it was a minor, glancing blow. Nothing that would require stitching, but perhaps a bit of rest. And cleaning, he thought with a hint of smugness. 

You caught the way his lips quirked slightly as he poked softly at your wound. 

“What could you possibly be chuckling about?” you hissed, feeling put out by his unwillingness to dive back into the kiss that had sent you to the edge of fire. 

“Your wound, m’lady. It needs attention. A good cleaning, I think.” His eyes smoldered at the last few words, the tone of his voice tightening something deep in your core. You had to stifle a bark of delight when you finally grasped his meaning. He rose from the ground, brushing grass from the front of his trousers as he extended a hand towards you. You accepted it, letting him lift you lithely from the ground. 

Y/n’s desperate gaze was practically all he could focus on, but Aragorn steadied himself with a deep inhale as he cast a self-conscious glance around. Thankfully, the rest of the Fellowship was resting uneventfully among the rolling slopes of Rohan’s Westfold, and no one seemed the wiser to your brief interlude. More extensive companionship would require greater privacy, but he didn’t balk at the feeling of her fingers twining in his as they strode with a shared understanding towards his tent. 

“I thought-”

“Lady Arwen, yes. I know what you thought,” Aragorn cut you off softly, rubbing a reassuring thumb along the back of your hand. You were surprised to hear him speak of her without a note of longing. You looked toward him with questions. “Lady Arwen and I were raised together in Rivendell. I think of her as family, nothing more. The longing you sense in me is nothing more than homesickness.” 

Aragorn had been content to let the rest of the Fellowship misinterpret his closeness with the lady Arwen for romance, although he had always resented having to keep up with the ruse with y/n. It was true that she’d be safer without his affections painting a target on her back for their enemies, but in that particular moment Aragorn found it difficult to summon anything more than impatient desire.

You chewed on the inside of your lip as he lifted the flap of his tent. Although there was no luxurious steaming bathtub inside, you did notice a well-made cot laden with soft furs. With ample room for two, you thought warmly as you stepped inside, Aragorn following closely behind you…

[gotinterest]

It's fun to talk about Fellowship as an adaptation because they changed so much- including some key details but it still feels faithful to the book. You can see how they made changes in the adaptation both from the perspective of making it work for the length of an (admittedly still very long) film as well as making changes due to having slightly different priorities as storytellers from Tolkein. Tolkein was very big on having a world that felt like it was big and very full of different people and cultures. There are a lot of extraneous named characters in the book that got either cut from the movie or de-emphasized. The use of characters is just a bit more economical in the movie which is important as there is a lot less time to work with in a film.

I really liked that they made Arwen be the one who rides with Frodo to Rivendell. I liked that they added scenes between her and Aragorn to heighten their romance. I liked that Boromir wasn't immediately pro-Aragorn being king and there was more tension between the two which allowed them to have their own personal arcs.

[x-authorship-x]

i feel like we're not helping you write the red Istari but these pairings are too fun to stop 🌝 any other combinations you'd care to share?

I always was too much of a multishipper to function 🤦

OKAY SO WE HAVE

The OG Idea Ship: Shisui x Faramir:

I love love love Faramir so much, and I absolutely do love him with Eowyn don't get me wrong, but my desire was to explore his time with the Rangers of Ithilien and becoming a brilliant Captain despite Denethor's....everything, and I wanted him to meet Shisui, who is this crazy glowing motherfucker, and be both awed and bemused lmao

The Obligatory Magical Girl Ship: Shisui x Legolas

Honestly this was born from both impatience and sadness for mortality because Faramir is gonna die, he's not going anywhere off Middle Earth, and there's a lot of time between the current chapters and when Shisui gets to meet him. Legolas however is kicking at this time, working on removing the stick from his ass courtesy of his father, and I loved the idea of them finding themselves through knowing each other. Also it's funny to imagine Aragorn trying to live undercover as a random soldier/Ranger BUT TRAILING BEHIND HIM ARE THE ELVEN PRINCE AND A SUSPICIOUSLY HARAD-LOOKING WIZARD 😂 Aragorn what have you got there? A smoothie?

The Bros Are My Hoes Ship: Shisui x Boromir

I have a previous Istari!Shisui fic with this pairing and, well, I never could leave anything alone. I love the idea of these two being sensitive but also slightly meathead-ish. The closest the Fellowship can get to having two all-star sportsmen eyefucking in the locker room. Hold my hand on the battlefield, my brother in arms. Handle my sword, as if it were your own. I'll be your shield, your armour. You look stunning in the dawn of victory; come, place your forehead to mine and we shall draw breath together. This idea will never leave me alone.

Protective Husbandry Ship: Shisui x Samwise

I don't need to preach to the choir about this glorious mix of protective instincts, plant care and good food. It really does speak for itself. Also I love the imagery of Shisui, who alternates wildly between deadly gorgeous and sunshine gorgeous depending on if you can see his dimples, and Sam, who is no doubt the Shire's Hottest Bachelor with a head of sunny curls and a kitchen/garden to drool over. A summer wedding under the Party Tree, please and thank you.

Majestic Heart attack Ship: Shisui x Aragorn

I'm sorry but the inherent homoeroticism of a knight genuflecting to his chosen king. Like. A KING AND HIS WIZARD?! also Aragorn is the fav poetry, brooding, sweetheart and you're telling me you can't imagine Shisui sliding him a tender smile, sitting down beside him at the campfire and twisting their fingers together. The promise of what little happiness they can find now, knowing that 'later' could mean Aragorn sworn to a crown, with the ensuing duties, and Shisui, like a distant star, sailing away with the other Istari. Um. My eyes are glinting with unshed tears in the moonlight. Neither would ever leave the other but fate might not be so kind. Also Shisui wounded at some point and whisked away to be cared for by Gandalf and Radagast and then he gets to make his Arwen-Coronation entrance and declare that he will NOT sail 😭❤️

Sexual Tension and Gorgeous Hair Ship: Shisui x Eomer

Shisui is in Big Trouble because he's a feminist in a world where feminism is a 'weird and not really a thing' thing. Yes he expected Eowyn to be wielding that sword, why wouldn't she, and why are you getting all up in my face for encouraging her. This is different from Aragorn complimenting her desire to defend her people, this is Shisui helping Eowyn smuggle armour and showing her how to garotte an orc. Eomer wants to punch the red wizard so bad, from the moment he dared OUTRUN A HORSE (wtf) to the moment he dared flash that cheeky grin and JUMP ONTO A ROOF TO LEAVE A CONVERSATION. There is a lot of tension and unnecessary interactions, like if they actually hated each other they would avoid and ignore lmao. The very slow slide into allies and gruff trust. Shisui doesn't appreciate being stifled, thanks. Eomer is ramming his head into the wall until he gets a better idea and uses biting kisses to shut Shisui up. Everyone thinks these two need to be hospitalized. (Aragorn, with those healing hands on Shisui's forehead: I have never seen you behave this way?????)

The Holy Fuck My Eyes Ship: Shisui x Arwen

I cannot unsee this, I did this to myself in The Red Ally when I suggested that Elrond had hoped that Shisui could marry Arwen so they could all sail together. And then I went and described Arwen like a goddamned marble sculpture who stepped off her pillar into a pool of moonlight and she held Shisui's arm so gently and they were supposed to be friends but now I cannot UNSEE AND I NEED YOU ALL TO SUFFER WITH ME

[echoweaver]

The Two Towers: Not so Hasty Edition

Every once in a while I post about my film editing projects. I mentioned this project in a random life dump, and some of my follows said they were interested in it.

I’m a serious Tolkien fan, and I’m attached to the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies to a degree that might not be entirely healthy.

I was never able to get over the Ents plot arc in The Two Towers. The Ents are slow, wise creatures that never take any action without considering it very, very carefully. Treebeard’s tagline was, “Don’t be hasty!” So the fact that the Ents abruptly reversed their decision after an excruciatingly long (to hobbits) discussion always bugged me. In the books, the Ents do make the correct decision the first time, but that thread doesn’t have a lot of traditional plot tension.

This is my attempt to restructure the movie such that the Ents do decide to go to war at their Entmoot, but hopefully in a more cinematic way than the books. This is not a book purist cut (honestly, I usually hate those). This is more, "What if Peter Jackson made this movie with a couple different choices?"

In  addition to changing the Ents arc:

 - Removed the “Aragorn is dead” subplot. The Rohirrim go straight from Edoras to Helm’s Deep without incident.

 - Removed the Elves from Helm’s Deep

 - Tweaked Gimli to remove the pratfalls while keeping his wit.

 - Recut Frodo's near-defeat at Osgiliath so that he doesn't come face-to-face with a Nazgul -- that seemed a bit much for a quest that had to be totally secret

- Cut two big recap monologues that I don't think add anything in a world where the summary of the story is pretty familiar.

 - Included about half of the flashback to Boromir’s speech at Osgiliath from the extended edition, the part with Boromir and Faramir but not the part with Denethor, but moved it to Frodo’s arrival there as Faramir’s prisoner. This is an artistic thing rather than a plot choice; when the prisoners arrive, they walk through with a very similar camera angle to the flashback, and I like the contrast between the hopeful past and the hellish present.

Otherwise I've dipped in and out of the theatrical and extended releases to make my own mix. My unpopular opinion as a fan is that the theatrical releases of Fellowship and Return are nearly perfect. It’s nice to see the extra scenes in the extended releases, but the emotional experience of the movies is better when the story is more tightly told. With Towers, there are a lot more scenes from the extended that I would (and did) put in my perfect movie. Ironically, the Aragorn-is-dead subplot takes so much time that with the added scenes from the extended, the run-time is almost identical to the theatrical release.

Changes to the first half of the film are subtle. Most of the heavy work is in the second half.

This  was a way more intimidating project than The Hobbit because the original is so good. I just took it on because I always thought it wasn't fair to the Ents :).

Download here: http://bit.ly/2LKlGAp

[minaturefics]

By My Side

Request: Hey there! Thank you for writing Death(less) dreams. All your stories are very well written. I was wondering if you would mind writing another request for me. One in which maybe the fem reader is a Dunedain and was friends with Aragorn since childhood. She joins the fellowship, and grows really close to Boromir, seeing him as a brother. Aragorn is jealous, but then the reader tells him that she loves him. If you don't want to do it, that's okay. Thank you!

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your lovely words, and thanks for being so patient. Here it is, hope you enjoy it!

Aragorn x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

2.4k words

---

You leaned against the railing and stared at the path that led into Rivendell. The air was rich with the scent of pine and the autumn wind was cold but not biting. The oaks and beeches coloured the valley orange and red, the evergreen pines sharp and dark against them. You could hear the distant rush of a waterfall, the faint tinkle of a harp, and much closer, the sound of footsteps.

You turned to find Aragorn approaching you. His face was clean of mud and his hair was free from its usual tangles. Instead of his Ranger’s gear, he donned silver robes of silk and velvet. Your eyes travelled up his form before you could stop them, taking in the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders. Your heart quickened and you forced your gaze away.

Aragorn was a friend, a dear friend, and not to be thought of anything more.

“Mellon nin,” he said, coming up to stand beside you, his hand resting next to yours on the railing. You could feel the heat coming off him, smell his scent of soap and musk. “What do you look for?”

“We have received word that some of the travellers are arriving today. Men from Gondor, and elves from Mirkwood.”

“Yes, after they have rested a day or two, Lord Elrond will call a council I believe.”

“Do you think there would be any tension between you and the Gondorian envoy?”

He frowned. “We know not who they are sending, though one can only hope our meeting with them will go smoothly.”

You hummed and turned your attention back to the road. It was no secret that Aragorn was reluctant to claim the throne, but as the darkness drew nearer it seemed as though there would be no other way than for him to take his place, and power, as king. You stole a glance at him, taking in his grey peppered beard and the curve of his cheekbone.

Would things be different once he was crowned king? There would be no more sneaking off into the trees, testing each other’s tracking skills and sparring by the waterfalls. Gone would be the man you walked forests with, gone would be the boy who fought you with wooden swords.

How was it that the boy who you chased into the river was now standing tall, an heir, a king? Would there be no more sly smirks and easy laughter? Would you have to stand by his side, ever the steady companion, and watch as he loved another? The wilds of Middle-Earth would be preferable to a torture such as that.

He turned to you, his brows creasing. “You are uneasy. What is on your mind, my friend?”

“I am simply thinking about what is to come. The darkness draws near and close. I fear for the future.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. His skin was warm, his palm and fingertips rough and weathered. Hands that have held yours a hundred times over, that have tended to your wounds, that have caught you when you stumbled. His grey eyes were soft. “We have been by each other’s side since we were children. Whatever is to come, we will face together.”

Warmth filled your chest and you smiled at him. The distant sound of hoofbeats filled the air and you turned your eyes back to the road. You watched as the horses and their riders drew nearer. The flag of Gondor, its white tree standing proud against a blue background, was held aloft. The small envoy passed through the gates and slowed to a canter. They rode towards the entryway below you and paused where Elrond was standing.

You craned your neck and looked at the man leading the company. His light brown hair fell about his broad shoulders. A sword hung by his side and a round shield rested on his back. His eyes darted up to you, lingering on you for a few moments before he turned his attention back to Elrond.

“Come,” you said, pulling away from the railing, your eyes never leaving the newcomer. “Let us greet our guests.” Aragorn tugged at your arm and you glanced at him. There was a line between his brows and a strange look in his eyes. You tilted your head at him. “What is the matter?”

He shook his head and offered you a small smile. “It is nothing. Let us go, Lord Elrond will be expecting us.”

--

Aragorn watched as you laid a hand on Boromir’s shoulder, your entire body quaking with laughter. Boromir was bent, his hand on your back as the both of you laughed. The rest of the Fellowship were making camp. The hobbits were cooking and bickering with each other, Legolas was speaking in hushed tones with Gandalf, and Gimli was off gathering more firewood.

You dabbed at your eyes and clutched your stomach. “Boromir,” you said. “Enough with your jokes, I cannot contain myself.”

“Come now, I dearly love to see you laugh.” He straightened and pulled you into his side.

You chuckled and leaned your head against his shoulder, looking as though there was nowhere else you would fit so perfectly.

Aragorn’s stomach clenched. He looked away, forcing his eyes to focus on the hobbits squabbling over how many sausages to put into the pan. He could still hear your’s and Boromir’s laughs. Discomfort sat in his stomach like a black stone, and he stood up and strode off into the trees. He sighed and ran his hands down his face. He had no right to feel this way.

How many years had he spent gazing at you wishing he could tuck you into his side like that? Wishing he could press a kiss to your cheek or your lips? He remembered the moment that strange warmth first kindled in his chest and he was forever lost to you.

It had been one of Elrond’s many celebrations, and by sheer chance all the Rangers were back in Rivendell, resting up before heading out again. They had washed and changed, and donned their stately robes for the first time in many months. When you had stepped onto the large balcony, your robes shimmering around you and your hair flowing free, his heart faltered.

He had always regarded you as a friend who was as close as kin, as he would any other Dunedain brother or sister, but in that moment you were something separate. Something more.

How could it have been that he never realised before? Year after year, celebration after celebration, he had seen you just the same, and yet it had been different then. Perhaps it was the way your eyes sparkled in the candlelight, or the way you moved across the room with graceful ease. Perhaps it was the way you picked at your calluses, a nervous tick he knew you had since you were both children. Or the way your faint scars, accumulated over the years in the wild, glowed almost silver in the moonlight.

After that moment, every casual touch felt like fire against his skin, every glance at your lips a temptation he fought to resist. How could you want him when he was burdened with a crown, with expectation? If anything held your heart, it was the wilderness of Middle-Earth, the hidden valleys and the clouded peaks, the bubbling rivers and rustling trees.

How could he ask for you to give that up, to become a queen in a cold city of white stone? If he were to take the throne, Boromir would be free of his duties, would be free to roam the lands with you if you wished. He sighed. If the man made you happy, he would bring himself to be happy as well. Anything to see joy in your eyes and a smile on your face.

The sound of shuffling feet brought him out of his thoughts and he turned. You were standing a few paces behind him, a small smile still dancing on your lips, your eyebrow raised in question.

“Aragorn, is everything alright? We were about to put an end to the hobbits’ argument when we noticed you were gone.”

He shook his head. “Just walking.”

“Walking?” You chuckled and stepped closer towards him. “After all the walking we have already done today?” He shrugged and you reached for his arm. Your fingers closed around his forearm, tugging. It would be so easy to draw his hand up and intertwine his fingers with yours. “Come, dinner is ready I believe.”

He let himself be led away, his eyes fixed on the back of your head, and his heart twisting in his chest.

--

You shook your head at Boromir and turned to pace the river bank. The small clearing was dappled with late evening light. The scent of mulch and damp filled the air, mingling with the distant scent of Gimli’s spiced roasted meat cooking over the campfire.

“Boromir, I have known him all my life. Whatever you think you are seeing in Aragorn’s eyes is not real.” You sighed and crouched by the bank, filling up the waterskin in your hand. “He does not love me in the way I do him.”

Boromir made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. “Then how do you account for his sour mood the other day? He left the camp!”

“He said he was taking a walk,” you grumbled, and reached for another waterskin to fill.

“You claim to know him, yet you do not see through that blatant lie?” He chuckled and moved to kneel beside you, resting a steadying arm across your shoulders. You leaned against him, enjoying the comfort. It had been a few years since Aragorn held you in his arms.

There had been so much ease of touch in the past. Bumping of shoulders, nudging of elbows, embraces and hugs. But it seemed that in the recent years, Aragorn had grown distant. Where he used to pull you into his arms, he would pat you on the shoulder instead. Where he used to lead you with his hand, he would gesture with them instead. He would reciprocate when you reached for him, but would never reach out to you himself.

Boromir shook his head. “I should have spoken to him that evening.”

“Why?”

“I will not be held responsible for thwarting any romantic intentions. If the man is to be king, I would not have it held against me.” He grinned.

You bumped your shoulder against his. “Foolish man. Do not get my hopes up so. If my heart gets broken I shall come sobbing to you.”

“And I would welcome you to cry on my shoulder. But trust me, my friend. You are like a sibling to me, I would not deceive you. I have seen many men with that look in their eye; Aragorn longs for you.”

Something rustled behind you and you turned. Aragorn stood still where the trees parted, his eyes fixed on you and Boromir, on his arm around you. His grey eyes were drawn and pained, his arms stiff at his side.

Boromir stood up and said, “Aragorn.”

“Pardon me.” His eyes darted to the river. “I did not mean to intrude, but Gimli requires the water to cook.”

“Of course.” Boromir scooped up the water skins and strode off.

Aragorn turned to follow him, and you stood and called out. “Wait.” He hesitated but did not turn around. “Please wait.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “Does he bring you joy, mellon nin?”

“As a friend yes.” You frowned and walked towards him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Aragron, I do not love him.”

Aragorn turned towards you, but his eyes stayed trailed on some distant point beyond your shoulder. “He is a good man,” he muttered. “Does he seek to ask for your hand?”

“Aragorn.” You brought both your hands to his shoulder, one resting on the curve of his neck. “I do not love him.”

His grey eyes met yours. “I have seen the both of you together. You do not need to lie to me. I am… your oldest friend.”

“My oldest friend and…” You let your eyes drop to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes once more, your voice falling to a whisper. “My love.” He blinked at you, his brows furrowing. His jaw worked, but no words sprang from his lips.

Was Boromir wrong? Were your words a mistake you would never recover from? “Do you not —”

Aragorn brought his forehead to yours, his hands coming to rest on your waist. You breathed in his familiar scent. Leather and pipeweed, musk and earth. You cupped his cheek and sighed, relaxing into his embrace. His warm breath tickled your cheek, his chest rose and fell against yours.

“I thought…” He muttered. “Boromir, he…”

“He is like a brother.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, his beard rough under your palm.

“I have loved you so silently for so long, hardly believing you could return my feelings.” He drew back and searched your eyes. “I feared I would not be enough for you.”

“Not enough? How can that be so?”

“Meleth nin, I would not see you bound to a throne, so far removed from the trees and woods you love. My fate does not have to be yours as well.”

“Aragorn. We have been by each other’s side since we were children. Whatever is to come, we will face together.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even if we have to suffer the Gondorian court? The dances? The dinners?”

“I would even brave a pair of silk slippers for you.” You laughed and nudged his nose. “These are just trifles. It would bring me more pain to be away from your side.”

“Then stay with me.” His lips brushed your temple. “There is no other place I would have you be.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under you. You sighed. You could have this, everyday, for the rest of time. Your best friend, your confidant, your love.

“Come.” He stepped back and interlaced his fingers with yours. “We should head back to camp. Gimli has promised us a feast.”

You squeezed his hand and he smiled at you. The both of you set off into the trees, hands clasped and hearts light.

[elvish-sky]

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

A.N: OK GUYS- i literally tied my hand to my sister’s to figure out some of the logistics of movement for this. She thinks I’m crazy now. But I loved this request! I’m currently catching up on requests and also dealing with some personal issues, and I haven’t been happy with anything I’ve written in a really long time, but I’m really happy with this! It would mean so much to me if you guys liked it too, I put so much work into this and I’m so proud of it!

also- a thousand thank you’s to @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth for giving me an idea for this fic. i appreciate you letting me use it so so much. thank you.

Requested by @raineeace on Tumblr: Your recent request you wrote was beyond cute! You’re an amazing writer, so catch me reading the rest of your LOTR content !! I also wanted to request something as well! Can you do a Faramir x Fem!Reader and Gandalf and/or Pippin try to get them together? I loved the how you wrote Aragorn as cupid, and I wanted to ask if you could make these two matchmakers as well? Lots of fluff please and I can’t wait to see what you come up with! :)

Word Count: 2,334

Pairing: Faramir x Reader

Summary: You and Faramir have been mooning over each other for months, but nothing has come of Pippin’s efforts to get you together. What happens when Pippin enlists the help of a certain wizard?

Warnings: Fluff, Humor

****

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

Pippin leaned over the banister, watching you and Faramir walk together below. You smiled at something the man said, then nodding your head goodbye and walking away. The hobbit watched as Faramir stood there, watching you go, looking oddly lonely.

Pippin had been watching/trying to get you and Faramir together for a while now. He had first noticed the chemistry and romantic tension between you when everyone was gathered waiting for Frodo to heal, and decided to do something about it. Now, months later, nothing had happened. Pippin thought that at this point neither of you was ever going to confess your very obvious feelings for the other.

At least, not without some extra help.

“Come on, Gandalf, please?”

The wizard shook his head, “I cannot believe you are still going on about this.”

“They need the help,” Pippin told him, “Plus, getting them to admit their feelings to each other would help them, and ease your exasperation with the two of them for walking in circles around each other!”

The wizard shook his head. “I’m not going to help you with this!”

“It’s for the greater good! Can you really stand to see the two of them mooning over each other all the time?”

“That’s true. It’s getting ridiculous,” Gandalf sighed, “Fine. I’ll help. Where do we start?”

Back in your room, you lifted your head from your desk as a loud, hobbitish whoop rand through the air. You chalked it up to Pippin hitting another elf, probably Legolas, with an apple, and returned to your work. You hoped that it wasn’t Legolas that Pippin had hit, because the last time that happened Legolas had promptly eaten the apple, and Pippin had bemoaned the loss of his snack for weeks.

That night, you left your room, closing the door behind you and setting off down the hallway. You’d barely made it fifteen feet when another door opened right in front of you and Faramir came rushing out, crashing into you.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I feel terrible!”

“It’s okay!”

You shuffled your feet, nervous to be so close to the person you’d been in love with for months.

It was also weird how close your rooms were- Aragorn had given everyone from the Fellowship and friends special quarters after his coronation. You could understand why the hobbits’ rooms were so close together, but wondered why Aragorn had placed you and Faramir almost directly across from each other. Probably because the two of you worked together the closest on negotiations with the other kingdoms.

Eventually, Faramir broke the silence with an awkward laugh.

“So, late to dinner?”

You smiled, glad he’d spoken first.

“Yeah. I got so focused on drafting that new trade agreement with the Iron Hills that I didn’t realize how low the sun was.”

He nodded. “I completely understand, I’ve done that far too many times, working on something like that or staying outside the city for far too long.”

Laughing, you looped your arm through his. “We should get to dinner before Aragorn yells at us.”

You entered the hall together, pushing open the doors to see your friends all seated around the high table. Dinners with the group had started when everyone was waiting for Frodo to heal and wake up and had just continued on, everyone reluctant to give up the time spent together.

Letting go of Faramir’s arm, you took your usual seat between him and his brother.

“What prompted you two to arrive together?” Boromir winked at you as he whispered.

“Huh? Oh, we just bumped into each other in the hall.”

“Sure, sure,” he smirked as he spoke.

“Pass the potatoes, please, Boromir.” You were determined to change the subject, and, happily, it seemed to have worked.

What you didn’t notice was Gandalf staring intently at you and Faramir, muttering something under his breath as Pippin watched gleefully.

You yawned, pushing your empty plate away with a groan.

“I’m stuffed. And tired. I think I’ll head to my rooms.”

Everyone said goodbye, and you pushed back your chair and went to stand.

But you couldn’t.

There were handcuffs on, one on your wrist, and the other on Faramir’s. And they hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Who handcuffed us?” You were bewildered.

“Gandalf…” Faramir glared at the wizard.

Gandalf glanced behind himself, and, seeing no one, turned back around with an innocent expression.

“What could I have done to make this happen?” He gestured to your hands, still handcuffed together.

Faramir said, “I don’t know, but it had to have been you!”

“Ask yourself this, Faramir. What motivation could I have possibly had? I think one you probably just ran astray of something else?”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay, then, how do we make it stop?”

“Only time will tell,” the wizard nodded sagely.

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You exclaimed.

“Just stay together? Do everything together?” Pippin looked all too pleased by this.

“Fine. C’mon Faramir.”

The man rose, and together you marched out of the hall, handcuffs clanking, never moving further than five inches apart.

Once in the hallway, you turned to Faramir, panicked.

“What do we do? We’re stuck five inches, or less, apart from each other for Eru knows how long, we both have important duties.”

“And there’s going to the bathroom, and sleeping, and eating..” he was just as freaked out as you.

You turned to each other.

“What are we going to do?!”

“Y/N, Faramir, chill.”

You tried to turn, but the clanking and tug on your wrist stopped you as you spun the wrong way, twisting yourself with Faramir.

“Ok, no wait,” he backed up, accidentally taking you with him.

“Here, go this way, move your hand left.”

“No, no, my left, my left.”

“Spin this way?”

“You go under, I go over?”

“Aha! Yes, that worked!” You high-fived each other clunkily, and turned, making sure to bring your arms over your heads so that your hands fell back again.

“Oh, Pippin! What were you saying?”

Pippin smiled at Faramir. “I can help.”

“Would you mind telling us how?”

“You just have to accept it!”

“WHAT?” You screamed in unison.

Back in the hall, Aragorn winced at the echo of the yell.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” He questioned the wizard.

“Of course not,” Gandalf replied, “but it was not mine. It was all Pippin, and if anything goes wrong that’s who we’ll blame.”

Legolas chuckled. “Alright then. We’ll leave it all on Pippin.”

Boromir raised a mug of ale. “TO-”

He was cut off by a resounding shush, and, chastened, began again.

“To Y/N and Faramir”

Everyone echoed the sentiment, quietly, and clinked their mugs.

Back in the hallway, you and Faramir were glaring at Pippin.

“You want us to just live like this?”

“Yes! You’ll be fine, maybe it’ll wear off soon, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Ughhhhhh,” you stormed away, dragging Faramir behind you.

Approaching your door, you were suddenly stopped when Faramir halted behind you.

“What?”

He shuffled his feet. “Whose room are we staying in?”

You considered. “Which one is bigger? We’ll need all the maneuvering space we can get.”

You walked together over to your doorway, poking your heads inside before moving back to his.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” He asked.

“Yeah. You have more space and a bigger bed. Let’s just go back to my room so that I can grab a few things if I’ll be staying with you indefinitely.”

“How are we going to do this?”

You stared at Faramir’s bed.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

You hadn’t thought this situation could get any more awkward, but there it was. The crown jewel of awkwardness, coming out to torment you. It had been bad enough attempting to change into your nightclothes, which you’d managed by turning your backs to each other to put them on, and only wearing one sleeve. But this was worse.

You decided to just go for it, and climbed into the bed, sliding under the sheets. Your movement pulled the handcuffs so that Faramir went with you, and you ended up on one side of the bed, him on the other, hands cuffed together in the center.

“This is not very comfortable,” Faramir observed.

That was true. You were lying flat on your back when you always slept on your side, and you were literally handcuffed to another person. Unable to stand the absurdity of it all, you broke out into laughter.

Faramir joined in, and you laughed together until you had tears in your eyes. His smile was so bright in the dimly lit room, and you could listen to his laugh for a thousand years without getting sick of it.

When the laughter subsided, you decided nothing could be more uncomfortable than the position your body was currently stuck in.

“Do you usually sleep on your side?”

Faramir nodded, looking a little confused.

“Ok. I’m going to try something, it’s going to be really awkward, but we might actually be able to sleep.”

“I trust you, Y/N. Whatever you’re going to do will be fine.”

You smiled at him, internally still freaking out that you were sharing a bed with Faramir. But there was no time to panic, your shoulder was killing you.

Taking a deep breath, you flipped so that the handcuffed arm was now underneath you, chain stretching up to where Faramir’s arm hovered.

“Would you be alright with putting your arm over my waist?” You wanted to make sure he was comfortable with all this.

Craning your neck, you saw a faint blush creeping up his face in the dusky light.

“Only if it’s ok with you,” he seemed nervous.

You were too, but you nodded and felt him slowly settle his arm around your waist.

Once it was there, his hand gently hanging near your stomach, you both relaxed, letting out sighs as the tension left your bodies simultaneously.

And then you giggled. Again, because this was just too ridiculous.

He laughed too. “You alright?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bumping into his chest as he sucked in a breath.

“I’m good.”

It took a while for each of you to fall asleep, brains spinning with thoughts of the person next to you. But eventually, you did.

It was the best you had slept in years.

The next day, the two of you began to figure out how to go around with your hands stuck together. You ate by spooning the food into each other’s mouths one at a time, which you were pretty sure Boromir was sketching to memorialize forever.

You blinked your eyes open the next day to sunlight streaming through the windows, and soft breathing behind you. Carefully, you turned around so that your hands now rested between your bodies.

Faramir’s face was glowing with the light of the morning sun, hair spread on the pillow. You’d never seen him so peaceful, and he looked gorgeous like some Vala come across the world to Gondor.

Unable to resist the impulse, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

You quickly moved back, only to notice that the weight on your hand was gone.

You looked down.

The handcuffs were gone.

“Faramir! Faramir!” You shook him awake.

“What, Y/N?” He asked groggily.

His morning voice was perfection itself, and you had to bring yourself back to reality.

“The handcuffs are gone. Look!”

He shot up at this, looking down at his now-free hand.

“Wow! We should probably go let Gandalf know.”

You nodded. “Meet you in the hall in ten minutes?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and the last thing you saw as you closed the door was Faramir marveling at his now-free wrist.

Later, in the room that Gandalf had claimed as his office right next to the large hall where you usually ate, you sat together.

The wizard inquired, “What exactly happened?”

“The handcuffs were gone when I woke up,” Faramir told him.

“That shouldn’t have just happened. They were supposed to disappear when a physical manifestation of your affection for each other happened.”

“You did this?” You were outraged.

“Yes, Y/N, I did.”

Sensing that you were about to interrupt in outrage again, he added on.

“It should have been a physical manifestation of affection that was not circumstantial because of the handcuffs.”

You sighed, knowing what it was.

Faramir turned to you. “Do you know what it could have been?”

You stared straight at the floor.

“I… kissed your cheek when I woke up this morning.”

He blinked at you, shocked. Gandalf discreetly slipped out the door.

“You just looked so handsome in the sunlight with your hair glowing and I couldn’t resist and I’m so sorry and I’ll leave Gondor right now and never come back and what you must think of me no-”

“Y/N.”

You stopped rambling, looking at Faramir. He leaned closer to you, and in the depths of his eyes, you saw nothing but love. He paused for a moment, head tilted as if asking for your permission.

You nodded your head.

Faramir moved closer, tilting your chin up so that his lips met yours, kissing you oh-so-gently. Then somehow you were standing, lips still touching his as he surged closer and kissed you harder, like all the passion and feeling in the world was just pouring out of him and into you.

Finally, you broke apart, smiles on both your faces.

“I think I love you.,” you said, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

Faramir smirked. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too.”

You gazed at each other for a few moments, before you grabbed his hand.

“Now, let’s go kill a wizard.”

Opening the doors to the hallway, you saw said wizard suddenly disappear.

You corrected yourself.

“Let’s go kill that wizard once he returns from wherever he’s hidden himself.”

Faramir laughed. “Let’s kill Gandalf later. For now, would you like to go for a walk?”

You smiled at him, looping your arm through his and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Lead on, my love.”

Everything tag❤️: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

Fic tag: @eru-vande @annkdarar @lust4crust @the-reformed-ringwraith @ethereal-earendil

[theflikchic]

If I could sum it up for ME, it feels like PJ read the book (little fun fact, because I am annoying, LOTR is ONE book separated into multiple volumes which I did not know until a year ago!) and he said- "Male leaders and male characters getting along and being intimate and understanding of one another? Disagreeing but still being friends? That's SO inaccurate. We can't be having THAT" and put as much tension between all the characters as he possibly could. As if Tolkien wasn't a soldier who was constantly intimate and understanding with other guys and clearly wrote those relationships into the book.

I have not seen TTT or ROTK because reasons but I recently did a whole class on LOTR and I played the LEGO game (which, imo, is a better adaptation than the films). Frodo telling Sam to leave? Theoden getting on Aragorn's case about Westfold (as a Theoden stan, this made me mad, I cannot remember that happening at ALL)? Pippin being an IDIOT? The Ents arguing with Merry and Pippin?! Faramir's "the Ring will go to Gondor" nonsense (which, btw, pissed off my mom so bad that she actually yelled "WHAT IS THIS" in the cinema)?

It's as if Peter Jackson genuinely doesn't think the male character relationships and dynamics in the book is plausible because he puts a rift in them everywhere he can, especially- as OP put well- in favour of Aragorn. Aragorn is already great and doesn't need to have others around him suck to point that out.

The lack of tension between the men is so important because it makes you really nervous when there IS tension. When Denethor turns out to be a mentally ill asshole (also the films making his suicide into basically a joke? Thanks PJ), when you're not sure who Faramir is, when Gollum is around, when Gandalf is angry at Pippin about the Palantir... The anxiety of those situations works because there's such comradery between the characters that when there isn't, you KNOW something is wrong. Like, REALLY wrong

And the OP is right. The production of the films are effing INCREDIBLE. The Balrog scene looks exactly- EXACTLY- like it was described in the book. The Mouth of Sauron, Helm's Deep, Rohan. It looks almost PERFECT in terms of adaptation. Howard Shore (Canadian king) slays with the music. The sets, the shots, all of it. It is so pretty, I love the production SO much, I cannot even describe it.

But one of the main reasons I love LOTR is because the men are so dynamic. They're smart. They're complex. They're rudely funny. They disagree with their best friends. They kiss, they hug, they listen to one another. They are so vibrant from other men in novels, so devoid of stereotypes. And from everything I've seen regarding the films (save maybe Boromir's death which is awesome), the uniqueness of the characters is just...gone.

The performances give the film characters so much depth because they're clearly passionate about it. I didn't even realize until recently that Legolas' film version was so hollow because Orlando Bloom just nails the sassy energy Legolas has in the book. I highly disagree with that the actors "would have nothing to work with" if the writing wasn't good because I've seen actually bad movies with terrific performances (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves anyone?). I love the cast so much. But from all those tensions crammed into the relationships...

It's like PJ really doesn't get how men can just be complex and understanding amongst one another. I really believe that the change of the characters is a major- if not THE detriment to the films' adapted writing. At least for me.

Every once in a while I think about how the love and iconic status the PJ LotR movies receive has so little to do with its value as an adaptation. People love it for the music, the visuals, the love and care put into costumes and props, the enthusiasm and talent of the cast and how they contributed to enrich the production... but you don't really hear people talking about how good the writing or the editing is. About 95% of all modifications, cuts, and additions done to the source material are not good (I'd argue that the writing of Boromir, specially in FotR is good... the addition of some of the Arwen and Aragorn plot... Mmmm... Sam's speech in Osgiliath? yeah, I think that's it); Denethor the cartoon villain? Legolas the OP? Gilmli the gross comic relief baffoon? Daddy issues Faramir? Frodo the fainting damsel? The fakeout death of Aragorn in TTT? All downgrades to the original story. Because the writing of this movies time and time again misses the points of the works it is adapting. It glorifies war. It sacrifices characterization to cliches (we need comic relief idiots, we need a big hero protagonist that is always right and never wrong and nobody is at his level (Aragorn), we need an everyman character and his friends to be all apparently 20somethings because that's the age characters in fantasy are, we need more tension, more, MORE, we need the threat to be constant and infallible and unavoidable...).

The writing of the LotR movie trilogy, on what it has of original, is mostly bad. Everything else is just so so so good.

[guardianofrivendell]

Gentlemen in Distress (request)

Legolas x reader x Fellowship

Requested: Yes! @galileostyles​ asked “hey i love your writing so much ❤️ could you do a legolas x reader x fellowship where they see you fighting for the first time at the mines of moria and feel bad for underestimating you. thanks ❤️”

Warnings: men being men

A/N: This was harder than I thought! I wrote it a first time last week but then I realized it was too similar to an upcoming chapter of ‘Perfect Secrets’, so I had to delete and start all over again. Enjoy and let me know what you think! I live for comments/reblogs :) 

(I absolutely love this gif. It practically screams testosteron! If I was standing near an Orc at this moment I would take its arm and wound it around my neck myself, and gladly take up the role of damsel in distress. Yes please!)

The fellowship halted before the gates of Moria.  You were relieved to be out of the snow, but dreaded the upcoming journey through Moria. You knew why Gandalf hesitated to go through them, shivering at the thought of what could happen. Legolas’ eyes met yours, but he looked the other way when he saw you staring back. You rolled your eyes, knowing you had to have a serious word with your beloved Elf. 

While Gandalf tried to figure out how to crack the password after two unsuccesful attempts, you made your way towards Legolas. It felt like days since you two spoke to each other.  He didn’t look up when you sat down next to him. You sighed, kicking the sand with the heel of your boot.

“Are you still cross with me?” you asked, already knowing the answer. He pursed his lips, as if he was actually considering it. But then he rose to his feet and went to Aragorn and Sam.  “Guess that’s a yes,” you muttered.  Merry and Pippin let themself drop down at your feet. You heard Gandalf yelling at poor Pippin a few moments before and he still looked a bit shaken.  “Still mad at you?” Merry asked. You nodded. “He has every right to be, my lady,” Boromir interrupted. You didn’t know he had been eavesdropping.  “And why is that?” you asked him. “This journey is no place for a woman. When we fight, we do not have the time to protect you as well. He only wants to keep you safe.” You rolled your eyes again. “How many times do I have to say that I can take care of myself? I know how to fight!” “Training or taking part in a battle is not the same thing. If you were mine, I would have tied you to a chair to make sure you didn’t join us.” “That’s why ‘if’ is the keyword, Boromir,” you reminded him.  

You could hear Frodo shout something, and the doors to Moria finally opened.  Everyone got to their feet and entered the mines.  Legolas made his way up front with Gandalf and Frodo, while you lingered towards the back of the group. If he wanted to ignore you, so be it. You wouldn’t fret about it anymore. He’ll come around eventually. 

The reason of your falling out was quite simple. Legolas had forbidden you to go along on the journey, after you volunteered at the Council of Elrond, following his example. Yes, that’s right. He forbade you. Like you were his property.  Not that he could have convinced you not to go, but you might have listened to reason. But as soon as he said that damned word, your mind was set. You were going, even if that meant you had to end your relationship because of it.  And ever since you left Rivendell with the fellowship, Legolas had given you the cold shoulder. He hardly talked to you and chose to walk alongside everyone but you.  When the Crebain flew over in Eregion, it hadn’t been Legolas who pulled you under the rocks but Aragorn. At that moment you realized he truly was angry at you. What you failed to notice was the worried expression Legolas wore the entire time, cursing himself for not being anywhere near you to pull you to safety. He had thanked Aragorn extensively afterwards. He vowed to himself to never make that mistake again. 

When you entered the mines, you could hear Gimli boasting about his cousin and the hospitality they were about to recieve.  You felt the darkness closing in around you, you really didn’t like this place.  “This is no mine, it’s a tombe!” You heard Boromir exclaim. It was only then you realised the cracking sound beneath your feet wasn’t the sound of branches breaking or gravel. You were literally walking on dead bodies.  Legolas pulled an arrow out of a corpse.  “Goblins!” he hissed. He notched an arrow on his bow and instinctively took a few steps towards you. You were too busy trying to avoid stepping on another dead Dwarf that you didn’t notice.

Boromir yelled something about the Gap of Rohan, but a movement outside of the gates caught your attention. Out of the water came a long tentacle, slowly sliding over the ground towards Frodo. Before you could warn him, it grabbed his leg and dragged him out of the mines.  Sam cried to Aragorn for help, alerting everyone else. They all ran outside and tried to cut off the tentacles with their swords. Boromir had been able to free Frodo, but the giant squidlike creature wasn’t giving up very easily.  “Y/N! Go back inside, take the Hobbits with you!” Aragorn yelled.  Seriously? You were not a babysitter! Why did they have such a hard time believing you could hold your own? Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir kept slicing the tentacles, but the creature didn’t back off. Legolas shot arrow after arrow, to no avail. They needed help. “Quick, give me a sword or a dagger, anything!” you yelled, eager to join the fight. “No!” Legolas yelled, shooting an arrow in the squid’s left eye. “Go back into the mines!” “Oh, now you can talk to me!” You felt someone grab your arm, trying to pull you back. You shook them off before you turned around and saw it was Merry, immediately swallowing the insult that had been on your tongue. “Into the mines, hurry!” Gandalf shouted, when he realised this was a fight they could not win. You followed the others back into the mine, barely escaping the falling rocks when the entrance collapsed. 

*

After a few days of walking through Moria, you had reached the Chamber of Mazarbul.  Legolas still wasn’t talking to you, now upset you hadn’t listened to him with the squid situation, but you knew he was going to give in at any moment. You had caught him staring multiple times, his hands twitching to take yours when you walked next to each other.  Gimli cried over the loss of Balin. You placed your hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. He gave you a grateful nod.  You heard Gandalf reading aloud from a book he’d found, and the words he spoke made your hairs stand up.  A sudden clang sounded through the chamber, and you saw Pippin standing by a well. He had managed to knock the head off a corpse, and the body of the fallen warrior followed seconds later. Gandalf shouted at him for being so careless. “Don’t worry Pippin, he’s under a lot of stress. He doesn’t mean it,” you tried to ease the tension between them. But then the drumbeats had started…  “Orcs!” Boromir and Aragorn ran to the door and barricaded it with anything they could find on the ground.  “They have a cave troll,” Boromir laughed sarcastically. 

“Y/N! Take the Hobbits and go to the back of the chamber! Stay behind Gandalf!” Aragorn shouted. “No! I want to fight! You can use my help,” you yelled angrily. You weren’t going to stand helpless at the sidelines again. Not this time. “Meleth nin,” Legolas spoke to you, his jaw clenched. “Could you please listen to us for once? I only want to keep you safe!” He cupped your face with his hands, and kissed your lips. “I could not live with myself if you got hurt.” The Orcs started to hack through the heavy wooden doors with their axes.  “Go!” he growled at you, and you were so surprised at his reaction that you obeyed. 

You had gathered the Hobbits and hidden yourself on the second level, behind the pillars to keep you out of sight.  The men had no problem with the Orcs, slaying every single one who crossed the wooden doors. But then a loud growl resounded through the chamber, and the cave troll entered, shattering the remains of the door with his mace. A curse escaped you, this was entirely different than fighting against Orcs. The troll immediately made its way to Legolas. The skin was too thick, Legolas’ arrows bounced off of it.  He barely avoided a hit with the mace, and you started to get worried. 

Suddenly the troll spotted you and the Hobbits, and with a screech he ran towards you.  It swung its mace and you grabbed Frodo, yelling at the other Hobbits to go the other way, hoping it would chase you to keep them safe.  Aragorn and Boromir took the chain hanging from its neck and pulled at it with all their might, trying to distract it and buy you and Frodo some time to get yourselves to safety. Legolas and Gimli were too busy with the remaining Orcs. The troll swung its mace at them, and with one powerful blow he threw Boromir across the room into the wall. He landed with a thump on the ground, unconscious.  “No!” you screamed, which caught the creature’s attention. He charged at you again, and you shoved Frodo behind you.  The troll roared in pain when Aragorn threw a spear at him, piercing his back. Aragorn soon suffered the same fate as Boromir. Your eyes went to Boromir, who was slowly regaining his consciousness, to Legolas who was shooting arrows at the troll again in the hope to find a weak spot, and back to Aragorn, who lay lifeless on the ground. They were losing this battle… You couldn’t stay there and do nothing! Even Sam was fighting against the last Orcs with his frying pan of all things, but it was effective. They only had to find a way to defeat the cavetroll. And you knew how.

“Stay here!” you said to Frodo, shoving him in the corner. You jumped of the landing and took two Orc swords from the ground. “Y/N, no!” Legolas cried at you. But you already listened once today, and that was more than enough. You ran around the troll, hacking your swords in its legs. It cried out in pain, and was now really pissed off at you.  “Y/N, Lassie, leave this to us!” Gimli shouted.  “Yes, because you’re doing so great!” you yelled back. The troll swung at you with its mace, and it smacked to the ground right in front of you. Perfect timing, you thought and you jumped on top of it, and nimbly ran up his arm towards his shoulder. It tried to smack you off of him, but you were faster, slicing his shoulder and upper back.  You sat down, and swung your arms around his neck, effectively slicing his throat with both swords. The troll made a gargling sound and fell face forward to the ground. You jumped off his back, twirling the swords in a cocky way.

The whole fellowship looked at you in surprise.  “That was amazing!” Merry and Pippin yelled at you, engulfing you in a hug. “Excellent fighting skills!” Boromir complimented. “I’m sorry we doubted you.” The others couldn’t agree more. Legolas however stayed silent. “Are you okay?” you asked him. He scoffed. “You’re asking me if I’m okay? No, Y/N. I’m not! You didn’t listen and put yourself in danger. I had a dozen heart attacks while you fought that troll!” You stared at the ground. He lifted your chin with his hand, and he pressed his lips against yours. “But you have proven to me that you can stand your ground.” You smiled at that. “Does that mean I can have one of your swords?” “Absolutely not!”

A/N: I’m still not that good with endings, but you get the idea! 

[cogentranting]

I was rewatching Fellowship of the Ring and was thinking about that twitter thread/post on here about how Dune is really joyless. If I can find it, I’ll link it in a reply or a reblog but the gist of it was that it was joyless movie, and someone accused them of needing quippy marvel-style one-liners every ten seconds (and for the record, I love marvel movies, I don’t need everything to be like that but I don’t have any problem with marvel movies being like that) but the original person and the ensuing conversation countered that no, Dune didn’t need to be turned into that kind of movie but it needed some kind of warmth or joy in it. 

The discussion there focused on how lighter moments cut the tension, which then allows the tension to build back up more effectively. Which I agree with, but I also think there’s the added dimension of moments of peace and joy helping you care about the characters. And that’s something I think Tolkien (and Jackson’s adaptations) understand perfectly. In order to care, you have to know what the character’s are fighting for. And Lord of the Rings is a perfect example of movies that are serious, often dark, but that aren’t joyless and dour. LOTR incorporates moments of joy and rest and fellowship all the way through. Less frequently as the story goes on and things are looking less hopeful, but they’re still there in smaller ways. 

First of all you have the Shire, which is so massively important. You have to love the shire. In all the ways that is quaint or silly or small you have to love it. You have to know that it is good and worth protecting. That informs everything about who Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin are, and everything that they do and it informs the sacrifices they make.  But even once you leave there, Tolkien provides regular reprieves for the characters and the readers/viewers. The encounter with the elves. Tom Bombadill’s house. Strider protecting them in Bree. Rivendell. Lorien.  And even when they don’t have the opportunity for actual rest like these larger breaks you have small moments of fellowship that brings a little joy and hope in amidst the danger.  Even a moment like Aragorn and Legolas singing a lament for Boromir after his death is part of this same thing. Taking that time to mourn adds to that fellowship. 

These are the things that make up why you care about these characters. You care about Merry and Pippin more because of the stunt with the fireworks, or seeing them sing in Bree. You care about Boromir more because he plays with the hobbits and because he describes how much he loves Gondor. You care more about Gimli because he talks about the glory of Moria. Even if a character is denied the things they love and the things that bring them joy, you have to know what those things are . 

As I said, as the story goes on these moments become less frequent and have more lingering tension. Nothing in Return of the King (prior to the destruction of the Ring) is as light-hearted as their time in Rivendell. Two Towers has Merry and Pippin with the Ents and hanging out in Isengard, and the others spending a little time in Rohan. in Return of the King there are little pauses but mainly it falls back into relying more on those moments of fellowship. (But here you also that other point-- by making the reprieves less frequent, the trilogy is able to build its tension. You can watch things get darker and feel more of that urgency. But in order for it to get darker, there has to be light to start with) After Fellowship Sam and Frodo get hardly any chances to truly rest. But there’s still something. For Sam and Frodo probably the last big reprieve they get is meeting Faramir. A last friendly face, something of a kindred spirit to Frodo. And after that its more dependent on conversations between Frodo and Sam to provide that release. BUT those conversations are ABLE to do that because they have the shire and all the other rests and friendships to draw on for those conversations.  Again, it’s that transition and that difference from where they started that allows you to really feel for Sam and Frodo and the desperateness of their fight. There is so much weight to their journey through Mordor, but only because  we saw what their joy looked like back in Fellowship. 

All art-- whether its stories, or music, or drawings-- needs contrast between the lights and the darks to be effective. And Lord of the Rings displays that beautifully.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part Two

Previous Part

Pairing: One-sided ( or is it ;) ) Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1416

Warnings: None

A/n Okay friends, oops. I wrote the first chapter in the first person and suddenly decided that I want to do the rest of it in the third. This is why I usually outline my fics but this one I wrote on a whim — whoops! Sorry about that. Maybe one day I’ll go back and fix it, but for now I’ll just leave it as is. And also, I’m taking a lot of setting and characterization liberties with this story because it’s just something I want to have fun with rather than extensively plan out. Hope you don’t mind :)

Legolas’ POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

As he walks, Legolas berates himself, and as he berates himself, he continues to walk.

Because really, there’s no break from either.

He replays the moment from the night before over and over in his head and just can’t work it out. Something he said seemed to have damaged his relationship with Y/n. She was still friendly to him, but distant. Something he did or said or a facial expression he made, maybe, seemed to take all the warmth from their interactions, the warmth that she usually reserved just for him.

Or, he thought she did.

Maybe he was reading too much into things. Maybe there was never any special look just for him, or a softness in her voice when she said his name only, or a light in her eyes when he made her laugh. Maybe he was completely wrong, and they weren’t teetering on the edge of something more than friends.

Doesn’t she know that elves take things extremely seriously, and he wouldn’t have offered to bring her home with him, introduce her to his father and his people, and help her build a life in his homeland if he didn’t….if he didn’t….

But it doesn’t matter, he grumbles inwardly. Because it’s obvious she doesn’t feel the same way. She must have realized the gravity of what it meant when I offered, and is now trying to tell me she doesn’t want that.

But even as his head tries to convince him to let her go, to let the tenderness he feels for her fade away, his eyes find hers. She notices his gaze, and raises a questioning eyebrow. It’s accompanied by a kind smile, but that’s the smile she gives everyone. Foolishly—possessively—immaturely, he wishes to see his smile again.

He tears his eyes from hers, trying to pull himself out of his own head. Instead, he turns his focus to his senses, exploring the area around them, doing his part to keep his companions safe. After all, it’s nearly sunset, and as the light fades, so does the eyesight of many. His ears pick up on something far in the distance, and he jogs to catch up with Aragorn.

“Are you sure about this?”

Aragorn falls into step with his friend. “I have considered the risk extensively, and there is no avoiding it. We need to resupply, and I fear not only for morale but for physical health if we don’t all get a proper meal and rest safe from the elements. Besides, it’s a sizable but remote human village, quite isolated from the rest of the world. By the time news of our presence travels, we will be long gone on an alternate path.”

Legolas nods, accepting his wise friend’s assessment. Even to him, the idea of an actual rest holds great appeal — he can’t even imagine the pull it will have for his friends.

Eventually, the others begin to notice that, rather than going in a wide berth around the rising smoke that hints at a town, they head straight for it. Legolas can physically feel their excitement, and can’t stop from feeling a bit giddy himself.

Aragorn calls for a halt in the woods near the town’s gate, and the group gathers close. They are still concealed, and Legolas wonders if Aragorn has changed his mind, if he’s going to make them go back?

But thankfully, Aragorn has no such intentions. In fact, he has a very different sort of plan.

“Right,” he starts, fixing them all with a level stare. “We cannot enter all ten of us at once, that would be too conspicuous. Instead, we shall go in smaller groups that still make strategic sense. There is to be no interaction between the groups, except for pleasantries that you would exchange with anyone else. We will take staggered entrances and leave the same way, meeting up tomorrow morning a mile west. I know this town, and it has two small inns — we will split ourselves between them. Gandalf and I will go first to the inn on the West side of town. After half an hour has passed, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry — you all will join us. Shortly after I leave, so shall Boromir and Gimli, but to the inn on the East side. After a good amount of time has passed, Legolas and Y/n, you join them.”

The companions grin, finding excitement in Aragorn’s game of deception, but Legolas feels a sense of unease grow in his stomach. He has not been alone with Y/n since last night, and a tension has obviously arisen between them. He turns his head to find Y/n avoiding his gaze, but she does not protest to Aragorn’s grouping of them, so neither does he. Perhaps their time alone will give them the chance to sort out whatever he’s done to upset her.

As decided, Aragorn and Gandalf leave first, followed closely by Boromir and Gimli. Y/n sits on the ground chatting quietly with Pippin and Merry, while Legolas joins Sam to guard Frodo, as they know Aragorn would want them to do. When enough time has passed for the hobbits to leave, Y/n waves them goodbye, wishing them sweet dreams in a warm bed.

The silence of the night that Legolas had become so accustomed to is marred by the harsh nosies of the human town. It doesn’t seem to bother Y/n, who raises herself from the ground and peeks curiously through the trees. “You know, it’s the first time in months we’ve all slept apart from each other.” Legolas finds himself perplexed as Y/n shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Gosh, I sound so codependent.”

But Legolas just smiles, knowing well the sort of bond that forms between those who fight together. “No, I understand. It will be strange. But it might be nice to have a room all to yourself. None of Gimli’s snoring to worry about.”

Y/n snorts, crossing her arms and regarding Legolas with the smile he had been aching to see all day.

But as quickly as it appears, it fades from her face, replaced with a contemplative set in her brow. She looks conflicted, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why. She doesn’t take her eyes from his, and he’s too captivated to look away. Legolas takes a step forward, the darkness and her eyes and just her calling to him, asking him to come closer. Is he imagining the spark of hope in her eyes? Valar, he prays not.

Somehow, he finds himself standing right in front of her, when just seconds ago he’d been at least a yard away. Y/n tilts her head up to look at him, and the way the moon sparkles in her eyes and lights the soft curve of her cheek — he feels his hand raise, he wanted to brush his fingers and see if it’s as smooth as it looks. He wants to hold her in his arms, and beg her to forgive him for whatever wrong he committed that kept her warmth from him that day.

Y/n worries her bottom lip, still looking up at him with those wide, guarded eyes. He sees something shift in them, and knows a decision had been made, but what?

“Legolas, I need to—”

Crack!

Legolas has his bow nocked and whirls around before he even has time to fully register the sound.

He notices the squeak of hinges that accompanies the sharp smack of the wood, and lowers his bow, feeling startled still, despite the innocent nature of the noise.

“It’s alright,” he mutters to Y/n, who has only just pulled her knives from their scabbards. Absently, he feels worry for his human friend, who, with the slow reflexes that are a fault of her kin, could have already been killed, had the threat been serious. “It’s just the gate.”

“Oh.” She blinks, and puts her weapons away somewhat stiffly. “We should go, shouldn’t we? No sense in standing around in the dark longer than necessary.”

Legolas turns his head back to her, and knows the moment has passed. The certainty he saw before has vanished, and the wall between them risen again.

He returns his bow to his back, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment he feels. “Right. After you.” He waves her forward, and they start on the path to the gate.

A/n So now we’ve got a look into Legolas’ head! What did you think? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me so so happy, and let me know if you would like a tag :) 

Masterlist

Next part

Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall

[wiglafff]

Rewatching the Two Towers extended edition, and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Peej added this whole “Aragorn is dead!??” Fake-out before Helms deep and that it’s kept in the theatrical cut at the expense of the much, much more character-relevant scene with Boromir and Faramir at Osgiliath.

This scene is so important because 1) it establishes the connection between the brothers and the tension with Denethor 2) it explains why Boromir was sent to the council at Rivendell and why he is so adamant about using the ring against Sauron 3) when Faramir volunteers to go in Boromir’s place, Denethor mockingly says “ah, a chance for Faramir son of Gondor to show his loyalty”

Recognize that line? You should.

Cause that line appears again. In the moment when Faramir is being tempted by the ring for the first time

In the scene where Faramir realizes Frodo has the ring, he pulls it towards him and repeats the same line his father had said to him months ago. The ring is using his father’s voice in the moment, to tempt him. Faramir is desperate for his father’s approval. The ring knows this is the way to tempt this man.

But WE WOULDNT KNOW THIS UNLESS WE GET THE OSGILIATH SCENE.

And peej CUT IT from the theatrical cut in favor of UNNECESSARY ARAGORN DEATH FAKE OUT.

And as much as I love this dramatic entrance, Aragorn’s death fake out adds SO MUCH TIME to the movie, and absolutely NO pay off. It doesn’t add tension to the larger plot, because we know Aragorn survives. It doesn’t add tension to the Helms Deep battle, because Aragorn arrives before the battle begins. It serves no purpose.

Meanwhile the Osgiliath scene is VITAL to understanding Faramir, and to appreciating the depth of his virtue when he makes the decision to let Frodo go. Because in that moment he’s choosing his own morality over the approval of his father that he so craves. It’s extreme selflessness. But we only understand that…

If…

You guessed it…

WE GET THE OSGILIATH SCDNE

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

📓 about gríma if possible--you write him with so much depth and affection!

aww thank you so much, that's very much something I needed to hear today so thank you!

I believe I might have mentioned this one before, but it's very much a fic/plotline I think about a lot.

Title: Guilty Remnant

Plot: An AU where Sauron is semi-successful. He breaks Denethor/Gondor's defenses and swoops up from the south while his forces that were moving north succeed in defeating the Dale and Lonely Mountain defenses after which they swoop south clinching the defeat of Rohan who is essentially sandwiched.

However! All is not lost, Frodo and Sam haven't been taken captive and Sauron remains without the ring. There is hope for our heroes as Sauron's victory so far is just militarily - not a full and complete deal.

Leaders of the free peoples go into hiding (Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir [alive always], Legolas, Gimli, Faramir etc. etc.) in order to re-coop and figure out next steps.

During the taking of Rohan, Theoden and Eowyn manage to flee to join the others. Eomer (and Eothain and Erkenbrand) gets stuck behind enemy lines because of where they were positioned militarily during the war and its many battles. In addition, Eomer was super reluctant about leaving his people and so waited too late to get out of dodge (not unlike his father, but without the death part).

Now, keep in mind that Sauron knows that Saruman sought to steal the ring from him and so he isn't too keen on keeping him around. At the moment, the Witchking is doing micro-managing of Saruman to ensure Good Behaviour but the wizard is on thin fucking ice. 

Queue Grima.

Who has slid his little snakey self onto the throne. Now that he is king, he's suddenly feeling a good deal less attached to doing whatever Saruman (et al) tell him to do. There's a sense of independence and the realization that he finally gets to run things how he wants to - or has the potential to if only Sauron and Saruman were less oppressive.

Eomer, who was captured, Grima manages to secure his freedom in return for good behaviour and being a sort of symbolic representation of a vague sense of quasi-approval/legitimacy for his reign. Eomer has agreed to this because he and Eothain and Erkenbrand figure that whatever information they can glean from Grima and his cronies can be secretly siphon off to Theoden, Eowyn and everyone else in hiding to help them with their plans.

There's a lot of politicking between Edoras, Isengard and Barad-Dur on who runs what parts of Rohan and who holds which titles. Saruman wants his personal henchman in top tier positions of the marshalate, Grima wants his own people and Sauron wants his cronies in. It gets messy. Also there’s a lot of tension and possible reprisals to different parties because of the aforementioned Sauron knowing about Saruman’s attempts to undermine him. 

The thing is, Eomer was a good Third Marshal and knew how to run things effectively and efficiently and Grima loves efficiencies. So Grima has Eomer doing sort-of quasi-acting role as Third Marshal in the background while publicly, of course, it's supposed to be one of Sauron's henchmen in that position.

This means that they end up forming a sort-of functioning work relationship. Grima trusts no one, but there are fundamental truths about Eomer he knows he can rely on and that ends up helping the foundations of their ability to work together form. It's the same in reverse, only Grima's reliable qualities aren't always good ones. Eomer just knows he can trust Grima to react/respond to situations in a certain way, depending on the inputs.

Anyway, they somehow make it work. More from necessity than anything else. A sort of "enemy of my enemy" deal with the devil at the crossroads.

Meanwhile, Theoden, Eowyn, Aragorn etc. etc. have managed to re-coop themselves and begin a successful slow retaking of Gondor with the intention of moving upward into Rohan. Which means Grima is forced to make some Hard Decisions and to maybe develop a single moral. Possibly even two.

It ends happily enough for all involved as I am a sucker for happy(ish) endings (for a given value of happy). There are several possible outcomes for how things wind up in the end and I alternate between them in my head. One where Grima manages to stick it out as king, the other is there's a bit of switcharoo with Eomer, and there's another where Theoden comes back in.

-

It is essentially a long exploration of leadership, what it means to hold power, the idea of Necessary v. Good, the fact that there are no "ends and means" only means because ends don't truly exist, and what are the necessary elements that need to be present to effect true change in a person.

-

Apologies for the very long write up! This is just a fully plotted monstrosity of a fic that I am always tinkering with in my head and would love to one day write but likely never will (though tbf, never say never).

Thank you again for the very very lovely ask and the warm compliment! I always hope I write all my characters with depth and affection, it is what is their due (and the reader's due) after all. So it was a lovely thing to hear. Thank you!

[anghraine]

It’s not an original thought or anything, but part of the reason that the oversimplified film/fandom take on Denethor and Faramir’s relationship bothers me so much is ... okay.

Here’s Gandalf talking about Denethor:

“Théoden is a kindly old man. Denethor is of another sort, proud and subtle, a man of far greater lineage and power, though he is not called a king ... He loved him [Boromir] greatly: too much perhaps; and the more so because they were unlike.”

And again, a little later:

“He [Denethor] is not as other men of this time, Pippin, and whatever be his descent from father to son, by some chance the blood of Westernesse runs nearly true in him; as it does in his other son, Faramir, and yet did not in Boromir whom he loved best. He has long sight. He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men ...”

I have a separate post about Denethor’s and Faramir’s shared abilities, so I won’t duplicate it. But here’s the Appendix on Denethor:

Denethor was a proud man, tall, valiant, and more kingly than any man that had appeared in Gondor for many lives of men; and he was wise also, and far-sighted, and learned in lore

And on Faramir:

He was gentle in bearing, and a lover of lore and of music

The Appendix again:

He [Denethor] listened to counsel, then followed his own mind.

Meanwhile, Denethor’s main complaint about Faramir:

“Your bearing is lowly in my presence, yet it is long since you turned from your own way at my counsel.”

And the cherry on top of it all, here’s the Appendix on Denethor before his ascension to the Stewardship:

Indeed he [Denethor] was as like to Thorongil [Aragorn] as to one of nearest kin, and yet was ever placed second to the stranger in the hearts of men and the esteem of his father.

I just ... there are plenty of differences between Denethor and Faramir, but the central tension of their relationship does not lie in being polar opposites! There is far more going on here than Denethor the heartless monster and poor woobie Faramir! 

The thing about the Ecthelion-Thorongil-Denethor -> Denethor-Boromir-Faramir tension that always get me is that it’s Faramir who becomes ‘the Denethor’ in the overall dynamic. Denethor isn’t looking at him and seeing someone wholly foreign to him whom he holds in contempt, by contrast to a Boromir who takes after him. It’s Faramir who takes after him, but is still different in these jarring ways that (in his view) don’t suit the needs of their time.

Worst of all, Denethor feels that he is second best in Faramir’s eyes, too (T_T), and is clearly upset about it even while Faramir has to be told that Denethor loves him at all (T_T). It’s terrible and tragic and all the more painfully, never gets resolved, and is so important to both their characters. But it gets reduced to this one-dimensional thing that does little credit to either of them. :(

[writingfromkitchenator]

Boromir ~ Xenial

Alphabet Challenge Masterlist (700 Followers)

Masterlist

Sequel to Unforeseen Circumstances

Thanks to @zeyien for requesting a follow up!

Words: 1,368

Warnings: Neutral Reader, werewolf AU, awkward tension, smidge of fluff, vague mentions of transformation, canon character death

There’d been an odd sort of tension around camp since you and Boromir had disappeared and returned a few days ago.  It was different to what it had originally been, and while you’d both been a little scratched up, wounds that had already healed, there was nothing else obvious about what was going on between the two of you.

They all knew that the two of you had tried to get along before you turned, and for the most part, and some relief, it seemed to be working.  However, whatever had happened after that night, had clearly changed something.

Aragorn had tried to find out what happened from you, but you refused to talk about, always quickly directing the subject away.  Boromir had done much the same with him, although, at one point, he told him straight out not to ask.

It was not the mood that they all wanted to enter the Mines of Moria with, but as the doors were destroyed behind them, they all had little choice.

The first night watch, Boromir approached you at the edge of camp, watching out into the dark.  The two of you were the best option for this, but he was ignoring the recommendation of taking some rest.

“The air reeks of death in here,” He said quietly as he sits next to you.  “And it is far too quiet.”

You make a noise, but your focus is ahead in the dark.

Boromir gives you a side long look, his gaze unsure, his voice dropping further.  “We need to talk about this.”

“Here is not the place to do it.”  You said, meeting his gaze for a moment.  “There are too many ears here, and not all of reputable company.”

He sighs.  “We have been avoiding this already.  We are only a week away from-”

“I am well aware.”

“Y/N,” Boromir kept his voice calm, gentle.  “You know as well as I do that it will happen again, whether we speak of it or not.”

Your jaw clenches.  “I know.”

“Then why-”

“Why do you think?” You asked flatly.  “This is not exactly part of our day to day Boromir, and frankly, I was never comfortable with what we did in the first place.  The road ahead of us is so uncertain, the problem we are facing so dangerous, that having this on top of it as well just makes me…uncomfortable.”

Boromir takes a moment before he chuckles lightly, finally earning your gaze fully.  “Uncomfortable does just about sum it up, or did you not think I was feeling that as well?  We are in this together now, Y/N, whether we like it or not.”

He smiles and gets up when you still remain silent, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he returns to camp.

The next night, it was you that approached him, although he was far more relaxed than what you had been, the silence sitting around the Fellowship, only you and Boromir hearing the occasional shuffles and drips in the dark.

You sit next to him, but the two of you remain quiet for a long time, both just silently thinking.

“Do you have any suggestions?”  You asked quietly.

Boromir casts you a small smile.  “I think that is going to depend on whether or not we are free of this place.”

You hum, the worry gnawing at you.  “Say we aren’t.”

“Then I suggest we put ourselves in the different direction to which they go the day.  It’s not going to be ideal, especially as we do not know these halls at all, but I believe it is going to be our only option in ensuring their safety.”

“I agree,” You said quietly. “That has been the only option I can think of, and, given last time…we should be distracted enough.”

Boromir watched you, watched how uncomfortable you were.  “I do not expect anything from you Y/N.  I consider us companions, but if that is all you wish, then that is all that it shall be.”

You let out a slow breath. “I…I am honestly not sure what I feel anymore Boromir, which is why I have been avoiding it for as long as I dared. Perhaps we should keep with their initial advise, just keeping talking to each other.  If anything, it may help.”

He nods slowly.  “That is fair enough.”  He smiles softly.  “I guess we are just one surprise after another with each other, aren’t we?”

It surprised you, but you chuckled a little and nod.  “Yes, I suppose that is true.  The ranger and the soldier of Gondor.  What a pair we make.”

Silence sits again between the two of you, but you cast him a slightly nervous look.  “Boromir?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’d be happy to call us friends.”

It takes him a moment before he smiles and nods.  “So would I.”

The rest of the Fellowship had little time to dwell on the eased tension between you and Boromir, the air seeming to grow thick, something approaching, all of them ready for something to happen.  Aragorn was the only one that seemed to make an acknowledgement of the development, casting you a smile one night across camp when you sat next to Boromir.

Only a day later, you were all running for your lives.

The goblins had both you and Boromir instantly on edge, it far too close to when you should’ve leaving the fellowship for your liking.  You both fought furiously, but you had to keep yourselves contained, ensuring you were always close to the other, knowing that if one turned, the other wouldn’t be far to follow.

The running had been easier to keep a hold of yourselves, but as the first steps of the Balrog echoed through the halls of Moria, you both growled, the hair on the back of your necks raising.  Aragorn and Legolas had to physically push both of you to keep moving.

Gandalf falling had only made it worse.

Outside in the evening sun, you stared at the doorway to Moria, clearly hearing the goblins beyond the door, currently hiding away from the dying sun.  Your grief, for the moment, was at the back of your mind. What you were going to do now was of much more of a priority.

“Aragorn,” You said, turning to face him, only to find him watching you.  “Get them out of here.  You all need to move, now.”

“We cannot leave you here,” He said carefully.  “The elves of Lothlorien will help us.”

You shake your head, turning back towards Moria.  “No. It is far too close.  I am more than capable of keeping them at bay,” You smirked, unable to help it.  “Or trapped within those walls.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Boromir said, rather firmly, his expression drawn but you could hear the same struggle going on his voice.  “We will do this together.”

Currently, your other side was in more control than what you normally allowed, so you nodded.  “Good.  The dogs of war have come with howls and roars of thunder.”

“Y/N…” Aragorn was worried, his eyes flicking between the two of you.  “Are you sure?”

“We’ll catch up tomorrow.” Boromir said.  “For now, get them to safety.”

Aragorn went to say something else, but he could see the set in your shoulders.  He knew you well enough to know that things were becoming too dangerous, that it was time to let you go.

“Legolas, Gimli!  Get them up.”  Aragorn said, turning to the others.  “We do not wish to be here when nightfall comes.”

Boromir stood by your side, his eyes locked on the door with yours.  “I hope you are ready for what will come out that door.”

A low growl rumbles through your chest, your body itching and agitated, and your mind on a fine thread that you knew would snap as soon as nightfall came.  “I hope you are ready for the long fight ahead, because it certainly won’t be with shield and sword.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”  He said firmly.  “I am more than ready for such a fight.”

“Good,” You said, aware that Aragorn was leading the others away.  “Then let’s go have some fun.”

[eucat]

I have to admit I always thought Gandalf and Faramir had a fairly uncomplicated, loving relationship. And I still want to hold on to this idea that there's sincere love! But I think I was mistaken to think it’s not complicated. At the heart of it is perhaps one of the most widely accepted (and widely caricatured) assumptions about the steward’s family: that Denethor excessively favors Boromir over Faramir.

I actually think the entire idea that Faramir is in competition with Boromir for Denethor’s love only actually starts to take shape after Boromir dies! In fact, if you read closely, it’s largely shaped by Gandalf himself. The most cynical take is that Gandalf uses this “subplot” as a device to ensure Faramir doesn’t work it out with Denethor and thereby potentially complicate Aragorn’s return!

When Gandalf tells Denethor “don’t be unjust in your grief,” it’s not clear that Denethor has said anything to warrant an accusation that he’s being unfair to Faramir. It’s...interesting for Gandalf to say this. Because it’s Gandalf’s words that escalate the existing tensions that exist between Denethor and Faramir into this much more emotionally intense idea that Denethor hates Faramir. Sure, Denethor and Faramir argue in ROTK, but if you read what they actually say to each other, it’s not actually vitriolic and there’s basically no reference to favoritism from either of them. It’s Gandalf who is always insisting Denethor loved Boromir best. Now! I DO believe Denethor was “closer” to Boromir, and that this probably, from time to time, created friction--but I don’t think even at the lowest points before Boromir’s death that Denethor and Faramir ever doubted that they loved each other! 

In fact, I think the whole favoritism angle is actually not at all how Denethor, Boromir, and Faramir think of their internal family dynamic. I think it’s literally gossip (that Gandalf actively contributes to!) that has currency only among people in Minas Tirith look at them from a distance as high, remote figures, whose fairly mundane disagreements and conflicts get amplified in the register of gossip and rumor into this idea that Denethor is an unfair, even cruel, father. Other than perhaps the appendices, it’s left very ambiguous in the text itself if we’re supposed to think this is really how it is! We hear Gandalf deliver the favoritism spin, and then later when Faramir goes out to Osgiliath we also hear that the crowds of Minas Tirith are murmuring to each other “Denethor pushes Faramir too hard.” So it all really depends how reliable you think these sources are when it comes to buying this idea that Denethor doesn't really love Faramir--which within the universe of LOTR itself is shown to be a highly-mythologized sort of metanarrative that is floating around Gondor!

And Gandalf’s participation in this mythologizing is truly crazy, especially when you think about how, as Faramir is leaving the city to defend Osgiliath in the most acute mental and emotional distress we’ve been privy to so far (he’s struggling against what Aragorn will later call the “black breath���), Gandalf calls out to him, “your father loves you and he’ll remember it before the end!” (this is only a few days after Gandalf has referred to Faramir as a moving chess piece). Maybe Gandalf says this because he is actually a little taken aback at how much Faramir has internalized this idea that he needs to ask his father to “think better of him.” Faramir loves and looks up to Gandalf! And he has feelings! So of course he will believe Gandalf and he will not just casually get over the suggestion that his father doesn’t love him. It does Faramir no favors to doubt Denethor’s love for him. I do believe Denethor finds it easier to be close to Boromir--he still loves Faramir, but it’s difficult. And it is this existing situation which Gandalf didn’t create, but he did exploit.