#ofthemark

[nivallis]

The Long Winter

Starter for @ofthemark. 

          The cold was unimaginable. It seemed wrong somehow that a girl raised in the north couldn’t stave off the ice, but this was much farther north than she had been in her life, let alone in the last fifteen years. Lyanna leaned forward and turned her face against the direction the wind blew. It was important to ration their provisions. There wouldn’t be many places to stop and replenish the further away from Winterfell they got. The last leg of the journey, she had been told, was just a white road that wound into eternity. 

          The long lost wolf cast a glance sidelong, studying her companion for a moment. He was so quiet, it was difficult to know what he was thinking. She reached out a gloved hand holding the last portion of brown bread, an offering to the northman. She waited for him to accept it or waive it off, knowing he might say nothing at all, her arm steady despite the freezing wind. 

          “Have you been to Castle Black before?” Lyanna doubted it. The men who went to Castle Black rarely returned, if ever. It was more probable that the two of them were venturing blindly into the great, white unknown. It didn’t matter. They would go where they must. Lyanna would go to the ends of this earth to find her son, if need be. Whether her sellsword and her bannerman would follow was another story, but she had a feeling her company held the same loyalty she did. They would reach Castle Black, together. 

[brightsword-blog1]

"I like horses and I understand their ways and the way their minds works – that is all." (im dying he's such a man-child 'i like horses' h elp)

“      such is a gift among your kin ,      ”      words punctuated with a smile  –  slight ,  but lingering.  it’s an attempt ,  noble in cause ,  to lay forth a foundation easy to  BUILD  upon.  comfort and lightness seldom come in days of late ,  when cast on the horizon is a darkness no light has yet pierced.  but ,  the shine of one solitary star is dim in light of many.  is fellowship not where their hope now lies ?   in standing together  /  not apart.     

his palm runs evenly along the length of his horse’s neck ,  from shoulder to ear ,  as his other pats once the back of his steed.  attention settles once again on the man of rohan ,  and though his smile has faded ,  the kindness in his eyes remains steadfast.      “      —  wisdom handed down through the passing of ages.  bonds formed with beast ,  i find ,  can be as strong and lasting as those with man.  ‘tis no small feat to find yourself an inherent scholar of that which we depend upon so utterly ,  elfhelm ,  son of winfrið.      ”

mists of avalon sentence meme ,  accepting.

[dawnsided]

rey is another surrogate sister of elfhelm's ; it is known.

#canon

[curufinwefeanaro]

wicked tongue titter titter.

|| Do you think anyone giggled when he delivered his “see half brother this is sharper than thy tongue” line in public

[anduna-a]

i named my wireless network 'routers of rohan'. everyone else's is called netgear or homebox with a series of numbers... i wonder sometimes if my neighbors look at mine and go ?? ????? ???????????? or if some of them actually get it & are amused. ah, the intrigues of suburbia.

         i named ours ‘THIS IS NOT THE WIFI YOU’RE LOOKING FOR’ and it deeply upsets me that i might have wasted this hilarious technological pun on a bunch of humourless people with cheap netgear routers. i wish we were neighbors, michelle, hold on i’m moving to denmark.

[tofindthesun-archive]

@ofthemark | ( ➵ )

       “I think I have the unfortunate luck of visiting you during the coldest times of the year. I thought I left the cold behind when I moved to Ithilien,” He teases gently, wrapping his fur-lined cloak tighter around himself. This time, at least, he is prepared for such weather, with his draping heavy velvets and fur-lined boots and cloak. His toes will not freeze this time, nor will he be miserable. “Which you should come and see eventually. My gardens might do you some good.”

[warrsong]

      @ofthemark

                    ‘ There we are, Garulf. ’ 

               In response to her gift ( a modest half an apple ), her steed whinnies, nudges her now-empty hand with his nose. Freda grins, simply glad to spend such a quiet time after all that has passed. Hand rested now, upon trusted friend’s cheek, forehead gently rested against his muzzle, she speaks again ------ because it is what she needs. To keep her mind occupied and far away from the horrors it still is processing, and the uncertainty that threatens to swallow her. Threatens only, however, for she cannot allow herself to give in. For Éothain, for her mother.

               She is in the midst of telling Garulf just how handsome he is, even compared to all the King’s horses that surround them, when footsteps ( quiet for a time, but unmistakable ) tear her from her childish and dreamy state. Freda stands upright, skirts disturbing the hay upon the floor as she turns, and almost immediately drops her gaze. Colour flares her cheeks, pink for her embarrassment.

                    ‘ I was far away, my lord. ’ A pause, only a snort from the horse beside, followed by an unsettled chuckle from her, ‘ Forgive me. . . I did not know you were there. ’

[tofindthesun-archive]

MEME | selectively accepting: Relationship Moodboard for ofthemark