Tolkien Meta Week Starts December 8!
Join us December 8-14, here and on Tumblr, as we share our thoughts, musings, rants, and headcanons about all aspects of Tolkien's world.
“Come, Faramir. Let us not stand in ceremony. I think words are due between you and I, and not only those between a King and his Steward.”
Faramir has speech with Gandalf and his King.
The lands of the north and the south are coming together again in friendship and alliance, and a celebration is planned, to take place on the lawn of Parth Galen. Gimli makes something particularly special for the occasion.
The light enters the room before Éowyn does, a rolling dry heat with it; just enough warning for Faramir to close one book and open another. She enters hard on its heels. 'Hail, Steward, from the south fair tidings,' she says, pulling off her helm halfway through, so the words are muffled. 'I can’t stay long. I came to give you word of Harad and your brother.' (A Galadriel-accepts-the-ring AU.)
Boromir lives!
...but then what? What might one additional man desperate to return to the defense of his homeland accomplish after cheating death?
A jaunty (I lie, we go Angst, here) romp through canon-adjacency
The line of Dol Amroth have often given birth to dreamers, people who see things invisible to others - some claim it a curse, some a blessing carried by their ancient Elven blood.
Imrahil, fresh from the battle of the Pelennor, names it loss.
Or hope?
A runaway conversation about runaway horses.
Early in the Fourth Age, some of our heroes meet at Bree, including Merry, Elrohir, Faramir and Eowyn.
In the evening, the conversation takes an unexpected turn; stories are told and the stories range widely...
A Tale for the New Year (originally written in January 2019).
As Sauron's reach lengthens, Winter lingers overlong in Gondor. In the midst of cold, despair, and the slow march to war, Boromir kindles a forbidden love affair with an unknown errand-rider that creates intrigue and betrayal. Written for Keiliss for the 2015 LotRGenfic/MPTT Yule Exchange.
Man muß immerfort verändern, erneuern, verjüngern, um nicht zu verstocken. (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
Denethor hat aufgehört sich zu verändern. Wie die Statuen in seiner Halle wird er langsam zu Stein.
Welche Konsequenzen wird das für die Zukunft von Minas Tirith haben?
Osgiliath has fallen, and Denethor sits in his hall, face as stony as the statues around him.
Faramir fears for the future.