Simbelmynë

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?  

[gemyndig]

alassofesteldin·:

THIRD AGE, 3002 - Southern Bree Fields, Bree-lands / @gemyndig··

She had seen the campsite, long before she had smelled the unmistakable scent of cooked fish. These were the Bree-lands and that meant farmers and comforts, not the dangers of the wild lands that bordered it to the east, which meant Sidhen deemed it safe to approach. 

Raising her hands, Sidhen stopped at the edge of the camp and looked upon the traveler. A woman she was, with hair like the summer straws of the fields and a willowy appearance. The she-ranger spoke with the sureness of one who’s done this many times.

“I’m no foe, but friend!” She was armed of course, a bow and quiver resting on her back and a dagger at her hip, but she tried to look as friendly as possible. “You are lucky these are friendly lands. A fire elsewhere might call forth more unpleasant things than a lone ranger.” 

Eyes fixed upon the dancing flames Elfhild tried to calm her racing thoughts. She was far from the path she set out upon and the road ahead seemed to grow longer and longer with every step she took. Yet she was not lost entirely, had a fire to warm her cold bones, and an unfortunate fish to be her meal. There was still hope her task could be accomplished. 

She sighed, shifting her weight to a more comfortable position in front of the campfire when she heard something. Or did she just mis --- A stranger appeared at the edge of her camp and Elfhild scrambled to her feet. Startled and confused. Her dagger, the only weapon she possessed was on the other side of the fire, too far from her reach. And she scolded herself for such a mistake.  “I did not think I would stumble upon any rangers, even in such friendly lands”, came her shy reply. But her stance relaxed as she saw who was approaching her. No creature of the forest Wumba had warned her about, no armed highwayman either, as it seemed. “But yes, lately luck is all I have left. Luck and this poor dead fish”, with a sigh she motioned to the carcass cooking above the flame, “So there is not much to take from me. I am willing to share what I have, though” The ghost of a smile flickered upon her lips.

[elflia]

The Chronicles of Amber Dreamcast

Hans Matheson as Merlin

[gemyndig]

Headcanons / NPCs - Vortigern

Vortigern of Heorot, Lord of Aldburg, Chief of the Eastfold and bannerman of King Thengel of Rohan was the oldest son of Hrothgar and Wulfrun. He married his wife Edalene, a Northerner, in TA 2947 and three years later their first child was born. He fought alongside Thengel and Thorongil throughout many battles and skirmishes, giving his all to keep the Eastfold and all of Rohan save and protected from Orcish Raids. In TA 2959 he was badly wounded during an Orc attack and never truly recovered. It became almost impossible for him to fight from horseback and so he stepped down as Lord of Aldburg, being aware of his inability to defend his people. The men of Aldburg gave that title to one of the youngest, yet bravest in their ranks, Èomund, of the house of Eorl. Vortigern became a trusted advisor to the young man. That year his youngest son Edric was born, the last child of Vortigern and Edalene. Contrary to his king and most of the noble houses of that time, Rohirric was still spoken by him and his children, his mother teaching her grandchildren the old ways and traditions of Eorl’s people.  Though he put great care into the upbringing of his two sons, Edric and Hereward, his first born child Elfhild was his favourite, like it often happens with fathers and daughters. He taught her many stories at the fireside, when she was scared by nightmares and traveled with her through the entire Eastfold.  After the death of King Fengel in TA 2953, a man with whom Vortigern had many disagreements, the new king Thengel returned with his family from Gondor and a match was made between Theodén and Elfhild. Vortigern was reluctant to see his daughter go to Edoras, but as he realised that Thengel and his entire family lived and ruled after the Gondorian custom he thought it best that at least a whisper of Rohirric may be heard in Meduseld.  His own hearth was always a place that welcomed friends and strangers alike, giving warmth and food to any traveler that knocked upon his doors. His mother Wulfrun could often be found telling the children of Aldberg legends and myths, stories of old. In the early months of TA 2978 a harsh winter took the life of his wife Edalene and shortly after word arrived in Aldburg that Elfhild had died in childbed. Vortigern never recovered from these blows and was rather withdrawn and silent his later years. Both his sons, Hereward and Edric, lived on to become loyal bannerman to Éomund as well as Èomer. Edric, the last of his children died during the battle of Pelennor Fields.

[gemyndig]

PLOTTING CALL

give this post ♥ for me and Elfhild to fall into your IM / askbox

[gemyndig]

I love going through lists of Old English and Old Norse because the translations always sound so badass and then you look at the name and realise it’s the cranky ol’ grandma from down the street. (But yes I am trying to come up with Elfhild’s parents because Tolkien gave us so much on his female characters...)

[gemyndig]

I answer the  heroic question ‘Death, where is thy sting?’ with ‘it is here in my heart and mind and memories’

Indie RP Blog of Tolkien’s legendarium / Sideblog to aelsell / ship exclusive

quote by (Maya Angelou) / promo by Flora ♥

[gemyndig]

sclitvde​:

          “We thank you for your gratitude, for your gratitude is all thanks we need,” smiling lips sing as she, with great care, pulls the sweet flatbread from the stone oven. Lithe fingers firmly hold a crescent knife, rocking the convex blade against the crisp body of the bread. “It has many names, yes, horse - mistress,” nodding her head, wavy gold strands fall to frame her face, “lembas or waybread or wastle bread, it’s all the same to a hungry tongue,” she plates a few crisp squares, a dollop of boysenberry preserves and another of butter flanking the pile of fresh sweet bread. Tenderly and with a newfound reservedness does she offer her guest the plate, suddenly wary of Elfhild’s reaction. Any displeasure would not do! So she returns to her station by the oven, endeavoring to busy herself with packing away the rest of the two loafs for her guest to take with her when she would depart.            “You’ve come far, Lady of the Mark,” Goldberry muses aloud, her curiosity running away with her tongue. “To travel so far North          shall you go further and further? To the Lands of Arnor perhaps?” To the Dunedain? To the Witch-realm? Oh, with the looming darkness, the idea of the latter frightened her so. She keeps her smile despite her fear.

Lembas bread, she has heard of that, but only in stories. Never before has she tasted it and Elfhild suddenly finds herself face to face with a new feeling - curiosity. It threatens to become her constant companion on this journey for she is not used to being so far from her home, her hearth, her husband. Longing fills her heart, painting the smile she offers her hostess with sadness as Elfhild reaches for a piece of the bread presented to her. Oh, were Théoden here to share these new found delights and friends with her.  “The search for a man named Thorongil has took me so far and so long away from the people and the place I love”, she explains between bites. Thorongil, another words she only knows from stories, “And yes, I fear this search will guide me even further North” And then, after a careful bite her smile becomes once again genuine. “Oh, it truly is delicios!”, delight fills her words, the bread is warm and light, yet she can already feel the hunger faded, “You must be a master of your craft!” She does not wish to speak of her purpose, of her task - not on a night like this, that reminds her so much of the day when this was all put upon her shoulders. So instead she watches her hostess moving so easily around, making Elfhild miss her own home and kitchen even more.

[gemyndig]

baublcs·:

{ open to anyone || radagast the brown }

❝ —-please be careful! you might frighten some of the animals if you stomp around like that out here. ❞

She stopped in her tracks, unmoving, silent. His sudden appearance combined with his harsh words had caught her off guard. “My apologies, Lord. It was not my intention to disturb anyone at all” Her eyes scanned the trees ahead, “Many birds live in this forest, do they not?”

[gemyndig]

Open Starter 

It is a delicate thing, the flower she has picked, with petals so thin Elfhild can see sunlight shining through. Between careful fingertips she grinds such a petal to dust, taking in the smell - just right for the herbal mixture she has in mind. Happy birds chirp in the air above her as the lady of Rohan makes her way across the field, returning to the white horse that patiently waits for her. A colorful firecrets flies past her while the swallows hunt low in the freshly reaped hay. So early in the day the earth still brims with life before the sun has grown too high and the air has gone too hot. She will need to set out a bowl of water for all these birds lest they do not stop singing for her in the early morning hours. Nothing wakes her up quite like birdsong. Edoras looms above her, a cool shadow in the flowing fields of the mark. And above all rises the golden hall, her home, her hearth, her love. Before she reaches the gates Elfhild comes across a weary traveler and she raises a hand in greeting, “Good morning to you, good soul. I did not expect to see someone else awake so early in the day. Please tell me, what brings you to the Riddermark?”

[sclitvde-deactivated20241126]

    Lengthy form, clad in green wool, leans against the door frame to its humble abode, lips pressed in a tight line and eyes closed. The creaking wood     the babbling brook     night crawls across the Old Forest and she hears nothing but the beasts amongst the dense brush whispering to one another. They are uneasy; fearful of a looming darkness she herself cannot sense. The Master must sense it, she muses in her observations, the darkness, a great devourer, to the South, beyond their little cottage…      Eyes of hazel and honey are finally revealed with a frantic realization, turning back to their guest as she hastily shuffles to the stone oven.          “ the WASTEL bread!! DEEPEST REGRETS. Deepest Regrets. you must be famished, Good Friend. ”

[gemyndig]

Far she has traveled to reach this place, far she has yet to go. Haunted by the things that lie behind she has driven her horse further and further, until shadows of the night finally caught up with them and she found herself lost in the dark. Fate has been kind for once and now the former lady of Rohan finds herself comforted by the warmth of the stone oven, welcoming the fire to drive out any chill in her bones, the uneasiness that rumbles deep within her stomach, different than any hunger. But nevertheless Elfhild finds herself nodding - if only to be polite. “You have my gratitude, but please, giving me a roof over my head in this stormy night has been kindness enough. I fear I cannot repay you for this” Would she do it any differently? Send away someone that came begging on the doorstep? No, her hall had always been open to those in need, a quality shared with the golden haired woman in front of her. Something that makes her smile in understanding. “But I must admit I have never smelled such bread before, it must be delicious!”

[gemyndig]

PLOTTING CALL

give this post ♥ for me and Elfhild to fall into your IM / askbox

[philomaela]

[gemyndig]

@multimentium for Théoden (duh.)

Days have passed since he rode out with his men, green banners flowing in the wind behind them. She has waited, patiently, for her husbands return but since last night Elfhild’s patience is wearing thin. She has news to share, wonderful news, happy news. She needs to see his face, to hear him laugh and cry from happiness. Her own happiness depends on sharing these news with Théoden and in the first moments of day, when she was alone with the early morning light, the mere thought of that fact scared her.  Who was has she become that he wields such power over every fiber of her body, over the deep movements of her soul? His wife, his lover, his trusted companion. Truth is that Elfhild would not wish it any other way. Truth is that she relishes in all these titles more than she has ever enjoyed something before. Upon their first meeting she would have never believed herself able to be so totally lost in love. Yet here she sits, staring at the doors of the great hall, waiting for them to open, waiting for him to appear. Almost willing him to appear in this very moment for she can no longer hold all these joy within her frame. She is only one woman and this happiness is too much for her to bear. She fears it is written upon her face, fears everyone else will realise the truth behind her smile before she can so much as begin to tell her beloved. But he deserves to know first. He deserves to be the one she shares this moment of with. And deep in her a little ball of anger dares to move. Where is he, now that her heart calls for him? All around Elfhild the people of Edoras move about, the feast well underway and she sighs, taking her eyes away from the doors for only a slight moment to reach for her cup. It is in that very moment that she hears the horns of riders, the doors creaking open. 

[periodperfection]

[aelsell]

Elfhild, Queen of Rohan anyone? 

[aelsell]

All right, I will talk about this once and then never again, in the hopes that someone will stop me from this. But we know like two sentences about Elfhild? And that makes me sad? Because Tolkien gave us these big family trees and so much lore, but the women are always second place? And the few things he gave us make for interesting stories and now I have this huge urge to find out more about a young, newlywed Theoden and his small family? He is a great king and a good man, but how did he become this man? Who was the woman that he fell so madly in love with that he never married again once she had died? Was she strong? Was she gentle? Was she caring? Was she vain? Scared? Hopeful or hopeless? Did they love each other right from the start? 

[aelsell]

multimentium replied to your post: Elfhild, Queen of Rohan anyone? 

*whispers* tell us all your thoughts, marie

I imagine her to be strong, Rohan breeds strong woman after all. Like Eowyn she knows how to use a sword, but I would like for her strength to be rooted in kindness. After all one of Tolkien’s most famous quotes is about protection. Elfhild is a Queen, a mother to her people, she wishes to protect them, to shield them, to feed them, and she wishes to do so with treaties and hard work instead of the sword. But she knows that destruction comes before creation. She is not afraid to spill blood, as a last resort, to protect those in need. The world can be cruel and dangerous, without mercy. But she will not allow that world to take her mercy from her. She raises up instead of bringing down, she cares so deeply it sometimes takes her own heart apart. 

I imagine her to be free. Marriage is no cage for her. Theoden never took her, she gave herself instead to him. For she saw his own strength, his own honesty, she saw how pure and deep his heart was. His bravery made her fall in love with him but his honesty and the need he felt to protect his people made her stay in love with him. Elfhild dreamed of a big family, a happy home that was open to all those in need, and she would have loved to build it with Theoden. She understands that not all would choose the same path as she did and she deeply believes that every woman should have a choice, the means to forge her own path. But as she grows older she is well aware of her own privilege, well aware that not everyone is as free as she is. And it makes her angry. Her anger scares her, the dread she feels when she realizes that her own hands are too small to change the world. And she allows only Theoden to see as much. 

I imagine her to be loyal. To her family, to her home, to the endless green fields of Rohan and the horses that run freely upon those plains. 

[aelsell]

that moment when you are so determined to not make a blog for the new character and tumblr throws the perfect dash icon your way… urgh.

[gemyndig]

#but did you know that I headcanon Elfhild's horse was named Enbarr?#like the one from the myth#because when they were still young Theoden captured a young horse and Elfhild was angry with him because of that#and he raised and tamed that horse and it was the bravest and most loyal creature he ever met so when he had to leave for battles and such#he gave Elfhild the horse#saying they could both be free and he knew should trouble ever come to her doorstep Enbarr would take her far away#swift and fast#and he trusted that horse so very much and she just kinda knew#in that moment; that she loved him and his gentle strength#years before they married#you can pry my cute lil rohirrim couple out of my cold dead hands#one day I will write her; as soon as I figured out how to make her more than just 'wife of Theoden'*