MIDDLEARTHSOURCE

AU; Boromir survives and becomes an awesome uncle to Elboron

« ..the Eldar said that the light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion, had been snared in her tresses. Many thought that this saying first gave to Fëanor the thought of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees that later took shape in his hands as the Silmarils. For Fëanor beheld the hair of Galadriel with wonder and delight. He begged three times for a tress, but Galadriel would not give him even one hair. »

the fellowship of the rings + scenery

Welcoming back your friend when you thought they were dead five minutes ago, a lesson by Legolas.

This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.

There is no scene purer than this one

It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now.

“Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?”

“Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead. If I should return, think better of me, father.” “That will depend on the manner of your return.”

requested by my tumblr awards winner @ewoyn

“Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!. By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!”

I see a white stream that comes down from the snows, where it issues from the shadow of the vale a green hill rises upon the east. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircle it. Within there rise the roofs of houses; and in the midst, set upon a green terrace, there stands aloft a great hall of Men. And it seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold. The light of it shines far over the land. Golden, too, are the posts of its doors. There men in bright mail stand; but all else within the courts are yet asleep.

“You fool. No man can kill me.”