#elfhild

[thelien-art]

Elfhild for @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras who won the giveaway and requested her - thank you for letting me go wild with her clothes and jewelry, it was fun to draw her <3

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

In celebration / observance of Tolkien Women's Week: Do have any headcanons about Elfhild, our beloved Théodreds mother, that you can share?

I would love to know any ideas you might have about her! You write Rohirrim female characters so beautifully and authentically! :)

Aw, thank you! ♥️ I have thought a lot about Elfhild and, given how short her life was, the legacy she left behind in Rohan!

I like to imagine her as a very creative and expressive person who was particularly talented with music. She sang and wrote songs and played multiple instruments. She could even make them with skill and flair, a talent that would have supported her in comfort even if she hadn’t been born into a noble family of the Westfold. Her passion for music also made her particularly well versed (no pun intended) in Rohirrim history, much of which was documented in song. She knew more about the pre-Rohan days of the Rohirrim than almost anyone else in the Mark.

Théoden was steered toward her as a match by his parents. They had wanted a Gondorian wife for him, but those efforts provoked a lot of displeasure in the Mark because people were getting pretty tired of Thengel’s obsession with Gondorian culture and practices. As damage control, then, they looked to one of Rohan’s oldest and most venerable families to find his wife, knowing that the choice would placate the people. Elfhild’s parents loved the idea and the chance to marry their family into the royal house, so they glommed onto that strategy quickly and hard. The relationship wasn’t forced on Elfhild against her will, but neither was it her idea and she was definitely heavily pushed into it.

She resented the pressures that were put on her in that respect, but she did grow to love Théoden after they met and spent time together. She liked his enthusiasm for life and his vitality, and he loved her because she was kind, very grounded and had a delightfully dry sense of humor. They were definitely a complementary/balance situation and not two kindred spirits. He’d grown up a tad spoiled as the only son in a big family and, of course, as heir to the throne, and Elfhild was one of the few people with the standing and ability to call him on his bullshit, which she did regularly. (She and Morwen did not always vibe for this reason; Morwen liked her only little boy to get his way.) But Théoden came to really rely on her judgment for that reason, believing (rightly) that she made him a better person.

I think she had a touch of that Middle Earth foresight, and when she became pregnant with Théodred, she was fairly certain right away that she wouldn’t survive his birth. She didn’t tell anyone that, knowing that Théoden in particular would find it distressing in the extreme, but she did ask her brother, Elfhelm, to move to Edoras so that her son could be raised among members of her family, too. (Thus began Elfhelm’s lifetime commitment to looking after and supporting Théodred and, later, his adopted siblings.) She also took to talking out loud to Théodred throughout her pregnancy, telling him all about herself, giving him advice, or singing him songs and telling him stories while she had the chance.

Though she did die in childbirth, her influence lived on in her son. Théodred strongly favored her in both appearance and manner. While Théoden was a bit impulsive, extroverted, and an “act first, think later” guy, Théodred was introspective, thoughtful, strong willed and enjoyed solitary pursuits. He also took up his mother’s interest in Rohirrim history and culture, which led to him supporting Éowyn’s desire to be a shieldmaiden, a cherished Rohirrim tradition of old that was fading at the time. He often went to Elfhild’s grave barrow throughout his life to talk to her, telling her about his achievements and his setbacks and his hopes and desires. In her example of standing up to Théoden when needed and telling him hard truths, Théodred found the inspiration to push back on his father’s decision making and begin acting without orders to oppose the influence of Saruman and Gríma in the lead up to the war.

When Théodred died and made his way to the Rohirrim afterlife (the hall of his forebears), he recognized Elfhild immediately not by sight but by the sound of her calling his name; some small part of his soul knew her voice from having heard all that she spoke to him before he was born.

So, that’s the outline of my Elfhild! She’s a pretty blank slate, canonically, which means there’s a TON of room to make choices about her. If you have your own Elfhild thoughts, I’d love to hear them! She isn’t much discussed (though @hobbitwrangler has made a lovely Elfhild as well, who I treasure!), which is a shame. Thank you again for the prompt to talk more about her!

[konartiste]

Day 13 of Tolkientober: Relic

Click here to read on AO3

Proof of Belonging

For the past half an hour, Théoden King was sitting on his bed. Not on his half, but on that of hers, next to the dressing table he had made and placed especially for her.

Elfhild’s dressing table.

Her half of the bed.

Her nightstand.

All her belongings and trinkets.

For more than twenty years, almost twenty-five years even, he had kept her things in the same place. The maids would clean and polish everything routinely, then place it exactly as he had wanted it.

(click below to keep reading)

He even continued sleeping on his half of the bed, as sometimes in the early mornings he would wake and yet be dreaming, his senses would fool him, tease him, by making him think Elfhild still slept beside him and not in her tomb. At those times he was glad to be the fool, for it would be closest to her than he would ever be.

Théodred had suggested remarriage plenty of times, but a new wife would mean that he would have to make room for her and he could never have borne even the thought of removing Elfhild’s belongings.

Therefore the idea that came to him after the news of Éomer and Éowyn’s impending arrival –

So much loss, so much death!

Oh, he could not fall into despair again, he was all they had left.

- That idea was odd and prickly, but it had not left his mind.

All he needed to do was to muster up the courage.

And finally, he did.

Théodred picked up Elfhild’s silver hairbrush and walked to the room he had readied for his niece.

There was a small table and upon it a round mirror stand. It was the one his second sister Théodfrith had used, for she had used the tip of a knife to carve flowers – wonky and wonderful – along the woodwork of the looking glass.

On one corner was the pen that his eldest sister Théodhild had used for her correspondence. Next to the mirror was a bowl with the delicate jewellery that his third sister Théodgifu enjoyed wearing. On the other corner was a stack of equestrian lineage record books, written by his youngest sister and Éowyn’s mother Théodwyn.

Now these items had been readied for the little Éowyn to use.

He placed the hairbrush in front of the mirror on the tabletop.

And there it looked better than it had in his room for the past twenty years.

[hobbitwrangler]

Trick or treat! 👻🎃😱

(For when you’re less busy!)

The Face of Spring

Théoden/Elfhild | G | 1.5k | AO3

Théoden’s vision of Blede was never the same after he married. Always, in all the stories spun by the fire in waiting for the coming of spring, in the tapestries woven with care by his mother and with impatience by his sisters, in the carven pillars that his father had commissioned in the holy places, Béma’s spouse was a tall, slender creature, lithe as the green grass of the Mark rippling in the wind, eyes the blue of cornflowers and tread as nimble as the leaping deer.

Elfhild was nothing like that. He had only known of her vaguely before their parents told them of their betrothal and when they were formally introduced, Blede was far from what he would have thought of at that moment. She was short, for one thing, and a little plump, her face round, her cheeks pink and liberally freckled. Long, sandy blonde hair was bound in a neat braid and eyes the colour of the earth in summer met Théoden’s gaze with a frank look that told him she had been assessing him just as keenly as he had her. 

“You’re a tall one, aren’t you,” she’d said, when they had managed a moment alone outside the gates of Edoras. The sun had been setting and it gleamed on the bronze earrings which swung in her ears. They were little suns, Théoden realised, catching the fading light to shine about her. It was such a clear memory in his head, her sitting in the long grass, her hands clasped about her folded knees, the sunset gleaming about her ears as the autumn-dry grass caressed the flowing skirts of her dress. 

“I suppose I am,” Théoden had said. “I have my mother’s height.”

Elfhild smiled slightly. “Unfortunately so do I.” A thoughtful expression furrowed her brow then.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m just trying to work out how we’re going to kiss at the wedding ceremony.”

The thought had not even crossed Théoden’s mind and he was glad that the dimming light would hide the pink in his cheeks. She was quite short, he thought, he’d have to bend down to kiss her. He tried to imagine them standing opposite each other, before their families and the entire court and it seemed impossibly terrifying. “We’ll work it out,” he said, rather than voice that thought.

“I’m sure we will,” said Elfhild brightly. The sunset caught her smile, the slight gap between her front teeth, her soft pink lips curved in amusement. Théoden felt slightly less nervous at the sight of that smile.

And then before he knew it the wedding was tomorrow and he was delivering his wedding gift to Elfhild. A harp, made after she told him of her love of music, painted and carved with spring flowers and rippling plains and the whirling shapes of horses, running with all the vigour of spring. He had managed to persuade his parents to let him deliver it in private, arriving outside her quarters to be greeted by her younger cousins, giggling girls drunk on stolen mead or giddiness. She had pushed them aside, laughing and telling them to grant her a moment’s peace. “Nervous?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Incredibly,” he said. “You?”

She laughed, tugging at the end of her braid. There were flowers embroidered on her dress, green and gold and red chasing each other up her sleeves. There were freckles on her arms too, he realised. He was beginning to wonder if she was freckled all over. You’ll find out soon, I suppose. Now that was a thrilling thought.

“Very,” he managed. “But … it will be good, I think.”

She did not ask what exactly ‘it’ was - the wedding, their marriage, their lives in general - but she nodded and he took that as the sign to hand over the harp. She had beamed for joy at the sight of it, and he had been overwhelmed by his own giddy burst of happiness at that. She did have such a lovely smile. It seemed to take over her whole face, her eyes creasing deeply at the edges as her hands ran over the harp, carefully tracing the elaborate carving, plucking delicately at the strings. “Wait a moment,” she told him, when she had said her thanks.

And when she returned, Théoden felt his own eyes widen and his mouth part in a broad smile. For she carried with her a bundle of fur, a grey and shaggy pup with a wet nose and sleepy eyes staring up at him. 

“I heard you have a love for hounds,” said Elfhild, stepping closer that he should better see the pup. “I hope that I am correct.”

“You are,” Théoden assured her, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the pup, who was now sniffing his fingers inquisitively, before deciding that he liked the smell of him and favoured his hand with a wet lick. “Although it is not expected for the bride to give the groom a gift.”

“Are you not lucky I am so generous?” she teased.

It occurred to Théoden that they were standing very close, the pup still in her arms as they both bent over it. Her eyes were not entirely brown, he realised, but shot through with flecks of gold and amber. A strand of sandy blonde hair had come loose of her braid and he was very tempted to reach forward and tuck it behind her ear. He could smell her too, soap and spring grass and the flowers that would have been gathered by her maids and her cousins to decorate her quarters.

“I am,” said Théoden, and he must not have managed to mask the seriousness in his tone, for Elfhild blushed red beneath her freckles and retreated back to her quarters, promising to bring the pup to him tomorrow evening. They would be married, tomorrow evening, he realised, and suddenly felt very young and unprepared.

And then it was the day of their wedding. Théoden struggled to properly recall that day outside of Elfhild. They were wed outdoors, for the sun shone warmly and the clouds were but few in the brilliant blue of the sky. He heard it said that Blede had blessed their wedding, that the flowers blooming so brightly in the fresh spring grass were proof that their marriage would be fruitful and happy. And when she was brought out, on her father’s arm, he saw her for the first time. 

It was said that the marriage vows of their people were modelled after those that Béma spoke to Blossom-Crowned Blede in the first spring of the world when he saw her scattering flowers among the grass and loved her. It was only when he saw Elfhild walking toward him across the dew-wet grass that Théoden understood what Béma must have felt. They had let down her hair, and it flowed down her back in long, rippling curls. Flowers were wound in a crown of blue and white and gold and pink about her head, and they had been woven into her hair. And then one of her younger cousins, too small to realise that the time had not yet come and overcome with excitement, threw the petals she held, and Elfhild was cast in a blur of blue and white petals. And she laughed, even as the cousin in question was scolded by her mother, her gaze leaping to Théoden, who found himself smiling in response. And he did not cease to smile as she was led toward him, uncaring of how his cheeks hurt as she walked toward him. The petals were all over her, caught in her hair and in the folds of the spring-green gown that she wore. It was a beautiful dress but too long for her and she tripped a little as she neared him. A distant, fading voice in his mind said that his mother would be minorly mortified, but he did not care, for Elfhild only met his gaze, unable to stop the burst of amusement that leapt from her lips like the music of life itself, and suddenly Théoden knew that he need not be nervous. It was going to be good, whatever it was, and he stepped forward, reaching eagerly to take her hand and pull her close to where he stood with the priest. Her hands were warm as he clasped them, her fingers slightly roughened by her harp-playing, and her eyes were glittering with amusement, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and the weight of so many eyes on her. Life and light seemed to shine about her, and Théoden could look at nothing but her, wished nothing more than for her to look at him with those warm, bright eyes. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and those mirthful eyes met his properly. He felt it then, what it must feel to look upon the blooming flowers and the waking earth and the dancing winds of spring made flesh.

He needed no prompt from the priest, no words had ever fallen more easily from his lips as he began, “As Béma swore to sun-clothed Blede …”

ask box trick-or-treat - lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

[goldensunandgoldenstallion]

My version of a 21th-century Elfhild, mother of Théodred and wife to Théoden, as she apperars in my crossover How behavior affects relationship: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012083/chapters/55022422

This is basically her everyday look with only family and close friends around. Especially in the royal stables.

Unlike her canon self in Lord of the Rings, she survives the birth of her son, but later has a riding accident leaving her almost paralysed from waist down afterwards permanently. This, however, does not stop Elfhild from still being able to ride, by finding a new solution, and she is a very well-beloved Queen consort of Rohan for presenting how disability is something that should be given more attention

[celeluwhenfics]

Here’s one for thoughts now, later or never, depending on how you feel about it…

Got any headcanons or opinions about the 3 sisters of Théoden who weren’t Théodwyn??? What they were like, where they were during the events that we’re all familiar with, what their relationship with Théoden was like, etc.? It’s bonkers to me that we know they exist and that he preferred Théodwyn to the other sisters but that’s. literally. it!

Omg what a good question! Thank you for leading my thoughts in that direction. There is SO MUCH to unpack there, and even more to imagine, because as you said Tolkien left us a lot of room there (euphemism of the month). I will allow myself to add Morwen Steelsheen to this reflection, because I think it makes sense to link her to her daughters, and similar questions arise around her character.

But I’m a scientist, so let’s think about this rationally and stay organized. I will answer in four parts (I’m not sorry about it)

1. What the canon actually says 2. What are the possibilities, what must be ruled out and why 3. Why I will NOT be going there with my current WIP pHORSEuasion 4. Freeform headcanons I still have on this matter!

Part 1: Deep dive in the canon

Most of what we know about Thengel’s family comes from a couple paragraphs in Appendix A. I have laid out this information in a timeline, with the following assumptions, which can be contested, but that’s what I chose to work from: -Only one child is born per year -There are no twins in the family -The first child of a couple is born at earliest one year after their wedding -Ages given assume a birthday on January 1st. If the actual birthday happens after the event in the calendar year, the character would technically be one year “younger”

2905: Thengel born in Rohan 2922: Morwen born in Gondor 2943: Thengel (age 38) and Morwen (age 21) marry in Gondor Between 2944 and 2947: First daughter born in Gondor 2948: Théoden born in Gondor Between 2949 and 2953: Second daughter born in Gondor 2953: Thengel (age 48) becomes king of Rohan Between 2953 and 2962: Third daughter born in Rohan 2963: Théodwyn is born in Rohan. She is described as “a child of his (Thengel's) age” (Thengel is then 58 and Morwen is 41). 2977 or before: Théoden (age 29 or less) and Elfhild (age unknown) marry in Rohan 2978: Théodred born in Rohan. Elfhild (age unknown) dies 2980: Thengel (age 75) dies. Théoden (age 32) becomes king of Rohan 2989: Théodwyn (age 26) and Éomund (age unknown) marry in Rohan 2991: Éomer born in Rohan 2995: Éowyn born in Rohan 3002: Éomund (age unknown) and Théodwyn (age 39) die. Éomer is then 11 and Éowyn is 7 3017: Éomer becomes Third Marshal (age 26) 3019: Théodred (age 41) and Théoden (age 71) die. Éomer (age 28) becomes king of Rohan. Éowyn (age 24) and Faramir (age 36) marry in Rohan 3020 or later: Elboron, son of Éowyn and Faramir, born in Gondor. 3021: Éomer (age 30) and Lothiriel (age 22) marry Early Fourth Age: Elfwine, son of Lothiriel and Éomer, born in Rohan. Fourth Age 63: Éomer (age 91) dies Fourth Age 82: Faramir (age 120) dies

Therefore, we have at the start of the War of the Ring, let’s say in January 3019: Definitely alive: -Théoden -Théodred -Éomer -Éowyn

Possibly alive (no canonical death): -Morwen (age 97, but she is of Dunedain descent, so a long life is possible) -Her three eldest daughters, with ages between 75 (if the eldest was born right after their parents' wedding, in 2944) and 57 (if the third daughter was born right before Théodwyn, in 2962)

A few extra notes on the canon

One thing that I had not fully realized before, is that Théodred is born and Elfhild dies when Théoden is not yet king. Therefore: -Thengel technically met Théodred (he was 2 years old when his grandfather died) -Elfhild, although Théoden's wife, was never queen of Rohan -When Lothiriel becomes queen, Rohan has not had a queen since Morwen, 41 years earlier, at the death of Thengel in 2980 -Théodwyn was only 15, or going on 15, at that time. (I know that I have read somewhere the headcanon that she cared for Théodred from his birth, which is valid and possible, however in my opinion her age makes it doubtful that she would have been the main carer and parental figure.) -Théoden ascends to the throne whilst bearing not only the immediate grief of his father, but also the relatively recent (2 years) loss of his wife.

Of Théodwyn, we know that she was “the fairest” and “her brother loved her dearly”. After her husband was killed, she “took sick and died to the great grief of the king”. Théoden then “took [her children] into his house, calling them son and daughter”.

And we learn a little about Morwen when Éowyn is described: “Éowyn was slender and tall, with a grace and pride that came to her out of the South from Morwen of Lossarnach, whom the Rohirrim had called Steelsheen.” (I must say that I am questioning this past perfect “had called”. It sounds like Morwen is not there anymore, otherwise past simple “called” would have been used. But then, it is hard to pinpoint when in time the narrator is placing themselves in this passage. If referring to Éowyn’s early adult life, it would be a clue in the direction that Morwen is not alive anymore by the War of the Ring, or at least that she is not in Rohan anymore. If referring to an undefined point at the moment of writing in the Fourth Age, it means nothing at all. But we’re now at the level of microscopic details from the text!)

Part 2/4 coming eventually in a reblog!

[maironsbigboobs]

@lotrladiessource ➡ LOTR LADIES WEEK DAY TWO: WOMEN (part 1/2)

[arofili]

men of middle-earth ♞ house of éorl ♞ headcanon disclaimer

          Théoden was the son of Thengel, and the seventeenth King of Rohan. He had only one child, as his wife Elfhild had died giving birth to their son Théodred. Elfhild had long been Théoden’s companion when he went out hunting, and fighting, and her death left him in great sorrow; though he would marry again, he did not give in to grief, instead devoting his energy and love to raising Théodred. In this he was supported by his youngest sister Théodwyn, whom he held very dear. When Théodwyn and her husband died, Théoden once more remained firm amid his sorrow, taking her children as his own.           Théodred grew into a mighty prince, very close to his cousins Éomer and Éowyn. As the Second Marshal of the Riddermark, he defended Rohan’s borders from the increasing threats of Dunlendings and orcs, enemies stirred up by the wizard Saruman. Théoden fell into ill health, becoming weak in body and mind, but with his treacherous counselor Gríma always at his side there was little Théodred could do to aid his father. Instead he focused on preparations for war, establishing himself at Helm’s Deep.           Warned by his scouts of a mustering of troops at the Gate of Isengard, Théodred purposed to overthrow Saruman’s army before it was fully prepared. He passed over the River Isen and scattered the vanguard, but quickly discovered that he had been lured into an ambush when a greater force of foes rushed forth to assault his riders. Though he attempted to retreat, he was overrun by orcs with specific orders to kill him at all costs, and he was cut down. His allies Grimbold and Elfhelm rushed to his defence, avenging his fall and carrying his body away, but Théodred died in their arms, his last words rallying them to keep the Fords until Éomer came.           Théoden was in no state to mourn the death of his only son, his mind overwhelmed by the spell of Saruman and his body weakened by the poisons of the traitor Gríma. He did nothing when Gríma ordered Éomer imprisoned for disobeying orders, and remained helpless until the arrival of Gandalf the White, who cast out Saruman’s influence and healed him of his ailments. His strength renewed, Théoden took up his sword and restored Éomer as his heir.           Their king renewed, the people of Rohan gave him the name Ednew and rallied to him as he called them to battle. Théoden retreated into Helm’s Deep, where the Battle of the Hornburg was fought. There the Deeping Wall was breached for the first time, but with the aid of Aragorn and Gandalf’s sudden arrival with reinforcements led by Erkenbrand, the battle was won in the end.           He rode then with Gandalf to Isengard and saw Saruman deposed from the order of wizards. Shortly thereafter he accepted the halfling Meriadoc Brandybuck into his service as a squire, and rode to Dunharrow to muster an army. There he was met by Hirgon of Gondor, bearing the Red Arrow and a message begging for Rohan’s aid in the siege of Minas Tirith. Théoden and six thousand riders set out the next morning, fulfilling the Oath of Círion and Éorl. As they traveled they were warned of a host of approaching orcs, but avoided that conflict when Ghân-buri-Ghân, a leader of the Woses, offered to lead them down secret paths through Stonewain Valley.           The Riders of Rohan arrived without any warning, for Hirgon had been slain before delivering the message of coming reinforcements, and joined the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Théoden fell upon the enemies of Gondor with great vigor, challenging a chieftain of the Haradrim to battle, felling him and the bearer of his standard, which depicted a black serpent upon a scarlet field.           Before Théoden could rejoice in this victory or turn to face other foes, he was attacked by the Lord of the Nazgûl, riding upon a fell beast. His faithful steed, Snowmane, was frightened by the creature and attempted to flee, falling upon Théoden and mortally wounding him. Crushed beneath the weight of his horse, Théoden faced his doom—but swiftly he was avenged, watching in astonishment as his squire Meriadoc and his sister-daughter Éowyn, who had ridden to war in secret against his orders. Together they brought down the Nazgûl and his beast, and when Théoden succumbed to his wounds at last he claimed satisfaction, for he had felled the Black Serpent and seen the end of the Witch-king.           Thus ended the last King of the Second Line. Théoden’s body was removed to the Hallows of Minas Tirith, while Snowmane was buried where they fell. When the War of the Ring was won, Théoden’s sister-son Éomer took his body and returned it to Edoras, where he was buried with the other Kings of the Mark. The bard Gléowine composed a poem in Théoden’s honor, and Éomer was crowned King of Rohan, the first of the Third Line.