#borlas

[lucifers-legions]

@gondorweek Day 6

Beregond, former Guard of the Citadel and Captain of the White Company, and his sons Bergil and Borlas

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ☀ misc. dúnedain ☀ headcanon disclaimer

          Saelon was a man of Gondor in the early Fourth Age. His father was Duilin, a worker in Emyn Arnen and an acquaintance of Borlas the son of Beregond. As a child, Saelon befriended Borlas’ son Berelach, often getting him into mischief. Borlas disapproved of his son’s companion and kept a firm eye on Saelon, and when he caught the young lad stealing an apple from his garden that was all he needed to forbid Saelon from cavorting around with Berelach. Indeed, he likened Saelon’s behavior to “orc’s work,” an insult the child would not soon forget, though he played games of orcs and soldiers with his friends.           As Saelon grew into a young man, Borlas’ heart softened and he allowed his erstwhile neighbor to spend time with Berelach once more. Yet when they were grown, Berelach took the seas, gaining a high command of the King’s Ships, while Saelon worked with timber and remained in the lands about Ithilien. As Borlas grew older and lonelier, his daughter Sammareth marrying and his son off to sea and his wife Orosser passing away, it was Saelon who took to looking in on the old man from time to time, and a strange companionship arose between them.           When Borlas heard from his friend Othrondir, a stonemason from Minas Tirith, that a new shadow was festering like a canker in Gondor, he mused aloud at the persistence of evil among Men and was overheard by Saelon. Himself knowledgeable of such rumors concerning an orc-cult known only as “the Dark Tree,” Saelon asked if Borlas knew of its leader Herumor, and was shocked to find he did. The two conversed on the nature of evil, Borlas growing ever more suspicious of the young man’s motivations, but Saelon proved frustratingly vague in his answers, though he promised to tell Borlas more should he meet him under the cover of night wearing black clothes.           No more of this tale is known, for it was written by Findegil, the King’s Writer, who died before he could complete it. Findegil was known best for his copying of the Red Book of Westmarch at the request of Thain Peregrin Took’s great-grandson, his compilation being the most complete version in existence, but he penned many other tales and histories in his days serving under King Eldarion.

[armenelols]

I have finally gotten around treading The New Shadow and oh boy I have thoughts.

Of all of the works Tolkien ever wrote, this one feels the most... Human. It reminds me of the late Númenor in a way, with Borlas representing the Faithful - an echo of the days of past glory, one who remembers the old struggle and keeps his ideals; with Gondor as the ever-beautiful Númenor even after the corruption; with Saelon representing the corruption, how fast the time passes for mortal Men - how much can change in such a short time, how easy it is to forget the past struggles when all you've ever known is peace.

Saelon feels so very human, because he could be any of us. We did not grow up in times of epic songs and ballads and legends that would be remembered for thousands of years, with our homes being destroyed and the land of shadow right next to us, constantly surrounded by enemies - not like Borlas. No, we (or at least I assume for the most part) grew up in peaceful times, with corrupt politicians, and bad economical situation, but we did not have the embodiment of evil on our doorstep.

And how many people in our world ended like Saelon? How many people fall in with the wrong sort and become like them, whether they want to or not? How many do not realize they are hurting themselves, others - or do not care until it's too late, if any care is left in them at all? Saelon doesn't realize how careless he is with throwing words around and speaks lightly of things others are terrified of - because he had never known those things. He had never known better. And he is young - he wants to be useful. To prove himself. In any way.

To be clear, the text never specified Saelon joined with Herumor, but it's pretty clear he is in contact with him.

And the story of the fruit? To me, it seemed as if Borlas and Saelon both were looking at the matter from a very different point of view. It's just a fruit, thinks Saelon, but Borlas learned to cherish such things - and honestly, the fruit could easily parallel other things. The thought that immediately came to my mind was children and their loss of naivety and innocence, children in war; the innocent having their worldview broken.

And Borlas represents the rest of us, the on-lookers - those who see the corruption and lies of the world but are either too afraid to do anything, or lost hope they'll achieve anything, or try their hardest but it's not enough.

The theme is so much darker than LotR, than The Hobbit, and even many parts of The Silmarillion - because we know what happened before, how LotR ended, how the characters lived afterwards. And seeing it all crumble under human nature is devasting - even as good and hope prevail in little things, in details, waiting in the corner to sprung out and punch the darkness in the face.

Christopher Tolkien saying he wished his father finished writing this is very much valid and I agree.

[bowlerhatmen]

#Mocasin de #borlas picado #ingles, con picados a lo largo de todo el corte y con suela de #cuero. #modahombre #shoopingonline #menstyle #bowlerhat #stylemen #estilobowlerhat #style #modamen #zapatos #zapatoshombre #vestir #styleblogger #stylish #styleinspiration (en Bowler Hat)

[lucifers-legions]

Tolkientober 2025 - Day 21

Title: Uprooted Characters: Boromir, Borlas, Berelach, Elboron, Barahir, Haldir, Bergil, Faramir, Original Characters Relationship(s): Boromir & OMC, Boromir x OFC, other background relationships Rating: Gen Word Count: 1.7k CW: Awkward conversations, teen crushes

Tolkientober 2025 prompt: Roots

Summary: While enjoying a family picnic on a beautiful summer day, Boromir and his grandson Vorondil get to talking about their namesakes, and Boromir attempts to give him some advice about love.

A/N: I drop a lot of names here. Even though most of them are only mentioned, I'll make a list.

Borlas (canon) - Son of Beregond, brother of Bergil Vehta (OC) - Wife of Borlas, daughter of the Haradrim Ambassador Eilian (OC) - Daughter of Borlas and Vehta Berelach (canon) - Son of Borlas and Vehta Lanthiriel (OC) - Wife of Haldir, former lady-in-waiting to Arwen Aredhel (OC) - Daughter of Haldir and Lanthiriel Aerdis (OC) - Youngest daughter of Boromir, wife of Galvorn (not mentioned by name) - Steward of Arnor Vorondil (OC) - Son of Galvorn and Aerdis, grandson of Boromir Armegil (OC) - Northern Ranger, best friend of Galvorn, adopted son of Halbarad Boramath (OC) - Northern Ranger, best friend of Galvorn, son of Halbarad Cirion (OC) - Son of Bergil and Finduilas, grandson of Boromir Lothraen (OC) - Daughter of Aragorn and Arwen, wife of Elboron, mother of Barahir Finduilas (OC) - Oldest daughter of Boromir, wife of Bergil Anael (OC) - Wife of Boromir, mother of Finduilas and Aerdis, grandmother of Cirion, Elenna, and Vorondil *Elenna (OC) - Daughter of Bergil and Finduilas, granddaughter of Boromir

*Elenna is named after Elenna "Enna" the adopted daughter of Faramir and Eowyn, @annabthesolitarywriter's OC in her fic The Lady of Ithilien; Finduilas was close to her cousin when they were growing up and named her daughter after her.

(Also posted on AO3)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Sindarin Naneth - Mother

June 21, Year 49 FoA

It was a pleasant first day of Summer. A week-long festival had just begun, and many people were outside enjoying the sunshine, eagerly awaiting the sun to set on this longest day to watch the fireworks display. The first day of festivities was more popular among the commonfolk, whereas the nobility would spend the afternoon leisurely relaxing in their gardens. Others had picnics near the Anduin and would dip their toes into the cool water after they had finished eating. This was the case for the Stewards and their families, who had found a spot along the bend of the river, about halfway between Osgiliath and Emyn Arnen.

Also there were Borlas, his wife Vehta, and their two children, Eilian and Berelach, and Haldir, Lanthiriel, and their daughter Aredhel had come with Legolas and some of the Elves who had joined their prince in Ithilien. Boromir’s daughter Aerdis and grandson had come from Annúminas for the festival, which was not something enjoyed in Arnor. Her husband was unable to join them, so he sent two of his best Rangers—and best friends—to accompany them. The Anduin had drawn quite a crowd, and everyone seemed happy. Well, almost everyone.

Boromir hobbled over in the tall grass to where Vorondil was sitting by himself. He had been with Berelach for a while, but now Berelach was being taught the “Northern way” (meaning the right way) to fish by Armegil and Boramath, the two Rangers who had come with them from Annúminas.

“You did not want to try your hand at fishing?” Boromir asked as he lowered himself down onto an enormous log, resting his cane across his lap. His grandson looked at him, the wind blowing his dark hair into his eyes. Vorondil shook his head.

“The current is too strong, so they probably won’t catch anything. And I can fish at home. I prefer to go ice fishing with Father.” Boromir hummed in thought.

“I have only gone ice fishing once, and it was during a visit to Rohan. Up there, the rivers freeze over in the winter, so they are able to do so. But here, one would fall through as soon as they set foot on the ice.”

“Did you catch anything?” Boromir let out a chuckle.

“I am afraid not. But the fish seemed to like Théodred’s line better.”

“You seem to really like Rohan. I have heard you talk about it and the people, and you’ve never had anything bad to say about them.”

“Of course not. I hold the Rohirrim in high regard, even before they came to our aid in the war. In fact, I believe that may be why your aunt named her son after Cirion, who gifted the Rohirrim the lands where they now reside.”

“Is Cousin Cirion like Steward Cirion?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, since he lived so long ago. What I do know is that he was likely a soldier and not a sailor as your cousin is. He fought on land and, as far as I know, was never at sea, despite the meaning of his name suggesting it ought to be otherwise. And he was the son of my namesake.”

“Are you like him? The other Boromir, I mean.” Boromir hummed and rubbed at his chin.

“In some ways, yes. We were both soldiers and served as Captain-General. And we both defended Osgiliath from enemy attacks with… similar outcomes.” He, of course, was referring to the destruction of the bridges at Osgiliath to keep the enemy from conquering the city.

“I don’t think I’m anything like my namesake.” Boromir turned to him.

“Why do you say that? And how do you know what he was like?”

“Because I am still not very good at hunting, let alone so great at it that it is what I am known for. And I don’t know how to make a hunting horn, like the one you used to have.” Boromir looked over to where Elboron and Lothraen were sitting with his oldest daughter Finduilas and her husband Bergil. The Horn of Gondor laid next to Elboron on the blanket. He found his wife Anael with Faramir and Barahir, who was showing her something he had written. Boromir shook his head.

“I hope you know that just because you are named after someone, that doesn’t mean you have to be like them. Elboron is somewhat named after me, and we couldn’t be any more different.” Boromir placed a hand on Vorondil’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Vorondil hung his head and started to pick at some grass. “Why do you ask? Did someone tell you otherwise?”

“No. I just assumed that… if you are named after someone then you should try to be like them. As a way to keep their legacy alive. Or something silly like that.”

A noise by the river drew their gazes, just as Eilian and Aredhel rushed into the water, with Boromir’s granddaughter Elenna trailing after them. She was nearly knocked over by the current, but Aerdis was there to take her hand. Berelach got bored of not catching any fish and joined his sister in the battle of splashes.

“Do you want to join them—?” Boromir followed Vorondil’s gaze to the young Elf-maid with silvery-blonde hair. When Vorondil realized he had been caught, he quickly looked away and cleared his throat. “I see. You may not share much in common with your namesake, but it would still appear that the apple does not fall far from the tree.”

“I don’t know what you mean. There aren’t any apples around here.” Boromir laughed.

“Then I will put it this way. You and I are more alike than you realize. We can’t help but be rendered tongue-tied by pretty Elf-maids.” Vorondil groaned and hid his face in his hands, though the faint pink tinge on the tips of his ears gave him away.

“Am I being that obvious?”

“If Merry and Pippin were here, they would have already set to work on bringing you and her together. Just as they did with your parents, and with your grandmother and me.” Vorondil stayed quiet. “Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?”

“And say what? It doesn’t matter, anyway. I live in Arnor and she lives here. She will probably be married the next time I see her.”

“Not if Haldir has anything to say about it.” Boromir smiled when he noticed Vorondil sneaking another look towards the river. “Would it comfort you to know that Haldir holds the Northern Dúnedain in high esteem?”

“It does not matter if her father likes me, only if she does.”

“Well, being in her father’s good graces certainly helps. Trust me, I know what it’s like to have one of his arrows pointed at your heart.”

“All the more reason to stay here.”

As if they had heard him, Berelach and Eilian called his name and waved him over. Boramath and Armegil had also given up on fishing, since their audience had left, and were standing in the water, too.

“Come on, Vorondil, we’re going to have a water fight, and we need one more person to have even teams!” shouted Berelach.

Vorondil sighed and hung his head before removing his boots and getting to his feet, walking gingerly over the sharp rocks near the riverbank. Boromir smiled as he watched him go. As much as Boromir enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren, he knew that being around an old man like him was not their first choice. And speaking of grandchildren, Elenna was racing towards him, with Aerdis a few paces behind.

“Look! I found a crystal!” Elenna showed him a jagged quartz. Boromir grinned and patted her cheek.

“What a good find! It is beautiful.”

“Go and show your naneth,” Aerdis said. Elenna lifted her skirt and ran to the blanket where her parents were sitting. Aerdis looked down at her father and tilted her head at him.

“I have sat for too long. Help me up?”

Aerdis had to do very little beyond grasping under his arm. When he was standing, she continued to hold onto his arm as they walked.

“What were you and Vorondil speaking about?”

“Our names, and others’, and our namesakes. He was under the impression that because he is named after Vorondil the Hunter that he has to be just like him.” Aerdis frowned.

“I only named him that because the Horn was so important to you. And still is, I imagine, even though you are no longer its owner. I do not recall ever insinuating such a thing.”

“He said he made the assumption on his own.”

“I see.”

“I also tried to encourage him to speak to Aredhel.” Aerdis raised her eyebrows.

“Indeed? He has not been able to stop talking about her ever since he first met her when Cirion joined the King’s Ships, two years ago.” They both looked over to where Vorondil was about to join the others… only to slip on a rock and tumble into the water. Father and daughter wore matching grimaces. Armegil trudged through the water to catch up with Vorondil before he resurfaced and grabbed onto him. Vorondil sat up and spluttered, his dark hair now plastered to his face. The others said something to him and he nodded. Aerdis breathed out a sigh. “He seems to be alright.”

Vorondil still hadn’t gotten to his feet, because at that moment, Aredhel approached him cautiously. He stared up at her dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. She reached a hand towards his face, and he flinched back before going still again. After a pause, she pulled weed from his hair and dropped it in the water, allowing the current to take it away. Armegil hoisted him to his feet and brushed away some imaginary dirt. Something Vorondil said made Aredhel laugh. This time, Boromir breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly how I would have gone about it. But it doesn’t always have to be a romantic gesture,” he said as he rubbed the top of his head, remembering another incident involving apples.

Thank you for reading!

NEXT >

FANFIC MASTERLIST

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ☀ misc. dúnedain ☀ headcanon disclaimer

          Baranor was a man of Gondor, originally descended from the people of Ithilien who then settled in Lossarnach when that land was overrun by orcs. He was a soldier, his work bringing his family to Minas Tirith, where he and his wife Pethriel had two sons, Iorlas and Beregond. Iorlas became a merchant in the city, while Beregond followed his father’s footsteps and joined the ranks of Gondor’s soldiers as part of the Third Company of the Citadel.           When the periannath Peregrin Took arrived in Minas Tirith and swore his service to Steward Denethor II, Beregond was assigned to show him around the city. Beregond’s young son Bergil quickly took a liking to Pippin and took him to the Great Gate to watch as warriors from the Outlands gathered to reinforce the city’s defenses against the impending siege.           During the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, Beregond was stationed as the sentinel at the gate of the Citadel when Pippin rushed to tell him that Denethor was attempting to burn his catatonic son Faramir alive. Beregond, who greatly admired Faramir, was distraught by this news and knew at once that his duty to protect his liege-lord was more important than remaining at his post. He ran to save Faramir and was forced to kill three of his fellow guards who would have prevented him from his noble task. When Mithrandir came to the rescue, Beregond warded off any attackers as Faramir was pulled from the pyre, and blocked Denethor in his attempt to kill his son with a knife. After Faramir was at last out of immediate danger, Beregond elected to stand guard over him in the Houses of Healing, and was present when he awoke.           Beregond served under the command of Imrahil of Dol Amroth at the Battle of the Morannon, where he was nearly killed by a troll, but Pippin killed the monster before he could be slain. Upon the coronation of King Elessar, Beregond was brought forth to receive judgement for leaving his post and killing Denethor’s guards upon hallowed ground. The usual penalty would have been death, but the new King showed mercy as his deeds were done out of love for Faramir, and instead Beregond was exiled from the White City. Yet though he could not return to his home, Aragorn granted him the position of Captain of Faramir’s Guard, the White Company, and Beregond brought his family with him to Ithilien, the land of his ancestors where Faramir now ruled as Prince.           In Ithilien, Beregond’s wife Fondil bore him a second son, Borlas. In his adulthood, Borlas married the orchard-worker Orosser, and together they had two children of their own: a daughter, Sammareth, and a son, Berelach, who served in the King’s Ships under the rule of Elessar’s son Eldarion.

[flowersarteenregalos]

Tres modelos de souvenirs, diferentes entre sí pero que tienen algo en común: detalles para recordar un festejo especial.

[flowersarteenregalos]

ideas de diseños...

a veces surgen ideas muy buenas de deco con nuestros diseños, algunos no son tal cual, pero valen la pena que los vean para inspirarse. buen finde ...