꧁ A portrait of Amrothos of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel's brother, drawn by @lonicera-edulis. ꧂
He is fancast as Elijah Wood for my Éomer/Lothíriel fic, The Golden Hall, where Frodo does not appear, so I could reuse Elijah, hehehe. Complete wish fulfillment, since I have always longed to see Elijah Wood in more fantasy and period pieces.
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Okay. So. I'm back on my Dol Amroth bullshit. I want to talk location, terrain. Prince Imrahil and his tough as fuck children.
Here's what we know about Belfalas. It's rocky and treacherous terrain, there's part of it that are barely inhabited because nothing grows and parts of it are green and lush (the elves lived there at one point), there's ports and hazards and storms.
Some of this is conjecture and headcanon based on info that is given and some is what Tolkien tells us.
I grew up in Vancouver, it's a pacific rainforest, there's loads of mountains, ocean, it rains a lot, the weather is relatively temperate because the ocean and the mountains tend to shield us from dramatic temperature changes. The areas near cliffs are windy, it's absolutely gorgeous, there's bears and wildcats, and in a lot of places going uphill both ways feels entirely true. There's a big hiking community, there's a lot of rock climbing, there's even some surfing though at least where I was raised, there's a cove that keeps things more even. It gets colder up north, much colder. It's lush and vibrant and there's spots that are incredibly dangerous. There are places where the forests are so thick and remote and wild that people just do not live there.
Now, imagine you're training warriors. Send them up mountain paths, bring them back down, run them up. Bring them down. Marching on flat ground will feel like a cake-walk. Send your warriors to row against the tides and the winds and the waves, teach them teamwork, endurance, how to read the oceans and the skies. No wonder the Swan Knights are regarded as some of the best fighters in Gondor.
This is Black Tusk, a hike from Garibaldi Lake near Squamish in Vancouver. From the start of the hike to Black Tusk is about 14 kilometers. 1,700 meters elevation gain. The last 1.5 kilometers is a scramble up rocky, unstable terrain. Some people run some or all of this track (barring the scramble) the next imagine is the view from the top.
In my mind, that's Dol Amroth (but ocean, obvi so much wilder)
So then we have the Noble, Strong, Numenorean Prince of Dol Amroth and his four kids.
I bet you they grew up on these mountains. Explored the paths, scrambled up, slid down, knees bloody, elbows scabbed. I bet you they swam in the oceans and battled the water, they learned to read the waves and the currents and the riptide. They learned to read the flow of battle. They know how to survive in the woods, to hunt and scavenge. They know how much can be gotten from their lands and use everything they can. They got stronger every time they took another shaky step up because their father wasn't tired so they musn't be either. Their father dived from cliffs and so his children followed. Their father could make a fire and find shelter in the woods, his kids learned. They learned to hunt deer and rabbits and birds, wild pigs and bears. Bears who took a team to bring down, who go so fast and are so strong. The lands belong to them too, you kill only what you must. You replace the trees you fell. Dol Amroth is a wonder, it must be treated as such and it will continue to give.
Sure, you're the prince, at the start of the war, one of the most powerful people in Gondor. You have elf blood. You are mostly Numenorean and very strong. Your children are rich and strong and gorgeous (canonically fair of face. Nice.) You adore them.
And.
Nothing is given in Dol Amroth, strength is earned. There's a war, now is not the time to rest on laurels or you will die. Princess Lothiriel can climb a mountain, Amrothos can outsail pirates. Erchirion can track and kill a mountain lion. Elphir has never met a forest he couldn't navigate. They know the plants that are edible and poisonous. And. On top of that, Dol Amroth has the best harpists in Gondor. So there's that.
As a land bordered by water, there is trade, it is an entry point to Gondor, a massive one, both make this city a target. Imrahil and his people fight a lot of the war on two fronts. And he still brings one of the biggest forces when they go to defend Minas Tirith. What a fucking badass.
God. I love this family.
(Also, could literally anything be further from Rohan? What a massive culture shock for poor Lothiriel. And how embarrassing for Eomer when he's following her up a mountain and dying. Horse riding gave him strong legs and also it did not prepare him for this shit™)
A list of Lords and Ladies of Gondor, created for the purpose of keeping track of Lords, their kin, and their areas of rule within the Regions of Gondor south of the White Mountains. This is created primarily for readers of On Swift Wings, as a lot of characters are going to be introduced during Chapter 74, and I thought it would be worth having a cheat sheet!
Canon - 100% Tolkien creation
Fan-Canon - Meaning characters who are either contextual ghosts, or filling places where a ghost SHOULD be
Fan Made - 100% original creation
This list is specifically for the council meeting during chapter 74, later on I'll be making MORE lists for Rhosynel's family, the Stewards family and Isildur's line, and the Dol Amroth family, along with comprehensive list of the Lords and their families, as well as additional side character I wanted to put faces to. (There's a lot, I'm going to have so many lists.)
But for now, let's begin!
We'll start off with the seating plan I made to keep track of who sat where! Admittedly, almost everyone moved around during the interval, but it'll give you a good idea of who's where to start off with.
It was decided that Gandalf would take the head seat as chair of the meeting to keep everyone on track, and reduce any of the Lords from seeing Aragorn as siezing power too quickly. While Boromir and Faramir take seats close to the head as Gondor's current leader(s). Rhosynel is so close to the head due to Boromir wanting to keep her close ❤️
Everyone else is mostly random, but you could perhaps read into where their loyalties lie 🤫
Please note I misspelt Falasriel as Falasser.
Gandalf
Male – Old as Balls – Wizard – Gondor (Minas Tirith)
Face Claim: Ian McKellen (Gandalf!)
Links: N/A
Notes: Canon.
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Steady and wise, Gandalf was requested to chair the meeting by Aragorn, in a bid to make him seem less power-hungry. As a wizard, Gandalf earns more respect (and a little bit of fear) from the Lords, and is an ideal option to keep the meeting on track and quell any arguments that threaten to get out of hand. Likewise, his advice is invaluable, and Aragorn relies on him heavily during the first few months of his reign to ensure the smooth handover from Steward to King. While Gandalf is more than willing to assist, he’s aware that eventually, Aragorn will have to come into his own, but will do his best to advise in the meantime.
Aragorn
Male – 49/88 – Ranger/King – Location/s
Face Claim: Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn!)
Links: Son of Gilraen and Arathorn, nephew of Avalômi, partner of Arwen, distant cousin of Hathiel
Notes: Canon
Fics: Hell or High Water, On Swift Wings, Hunting in the Hills
Personality: Not yet having claimed the crown, Aragorn is wary of moving too fast and setting the Lords on edge with what they may perceive as a power grab, as such he will spend the first month of his time in Minas Tirith as another Lord, slowly integrating himself and earning their trust. As such, he’s quick to pour his focus and energy into the reconstruction of the city, the ousting of orcs, and the soothing of old wounds from Denethor’s reign. Thankfully, he has the backing of Boromir, Faramir, and Imrahil, which helps ease his arrival and subsequent crowning.
Faramir
Male – 35 – Ranger Captain/Steward – Gondor (Minas Tirith/Emyn Arnen)
Face Claim: David Wenham (Faramir!)
Links: Son of Denethor and Finduilas, brother of Boromir, partner of Éowyn
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings, (+AUs)
Personality: Having inherited Denethor’s perception into the mind of men, Faramir is careful in his dealing with the Lords, and comes across as a peacekeeper in his quickness to smooth over any disagreements. Well aware that many of the other Lords believe him to be untested, Faramir is content to let them believe what they wish, as he has more important things to be dealing with, namely the recovery of Minas Tirith and integration of Aragorn as King. However as a staunch supporter of the King, he has little tolerance for any gossip that may be sparked and is quick to put an end to it.
Boromir (It's him!)
Male – 40 – Captain of Gondor/Steward – Gondor (Minas Tirith)
Face Claim: Sean Bean (Boromir!)
Links: Son of Denethor and Finduilas, brother of Faramir, partner of Rhosynel
Notes: Canon, Lives AU
Fics: Hell or High Water, On Swift Wings, (+AUs),
Personality: A rock in a stormy sea, Boromir is steadfast and strong-willed, quickly proving to the other lords that he’ll not be influenced or swayed by their manipulations and offers. Incredibly protective, Boromir take utterly no belittling over things he considers ‘his’ to defend, whether that’s his king, his city, his people, or even his future wife. This does, however, make him easy to provoke during meetings and courts, and while his wrath and any potential fallout is enough to deter most Lords, not all of them are so easily discouraged.
Rhosynel (It's her!)
Female – 35 – Messenger/Ex-Ranger – Gondor (Minas Tirith)/Varies
Face Claim: Lily James (Mama Mia 2: Young Donna)
Links: Daughter of Rhysnaur and Tholcred, younger sister of Rhymenel, partner of Boromir
Notes: Fan made
Fics: On Swift Wings, (+AUs),
Personality: While confident in her job and in battle, Rhosynel is very much out of her depth in the realm of courtly politics and meetings, as such she’s wary of putting a foot wrong and causing a diplomatic scandal. While she struggles to hold her tongue, Rhosynel manages to rein in the worst of her attitude and restrain herself to sarcasm, or simply falls silent, preferring to watch rather than be caught in the thick of discussions. Thankfully, she has friends within the nobility, and while under Boromir’s protective wing and with Éowyn’s quiet advice, she’ll soon learn how to navigate the turbulent waters of Gondorian politics.
Éowyn
Female – 24 – Lady/Soldier – Edoras (Rohan)
Face Claim: Miranda Otto (Éowyn!)
Links: Daughter of Théodwyn and Éomund, sister of Éomer, partner of Faramir
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Having made a name for herself in the slaying of the Witch King, Éowyn won’t allow anyone to shut her out of the council meetings and doesn’t hesitate to make her voice heard. Having grown up within the halls of the Medusled, she’s more the familiar with the politicking and subterfuge of courts, and is able to navigate it easily, as such, she’s become a valuable and reliable ally to Éomer, and will frequently advise him when required. The other Lords quickly learn that she’s as sharp as the sword she wields, and as protective as the shield that earnt her title.
Éomer
Male – 28 – Marshal/King – Edoras (Rohan)
Face Claim: Karl Urban (Éomer!)
Links: Son of Théodwyn and Éomund, brother of Éowyn, (future) partner of Lothíriel
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings, Respite from Revelry
Personality: Having little patience for political infighting and subtle jabs, Éomer fears he’s too blunt to work alongside the Lords of Gondor. This results in him either remaining silent until he has something to say, or losing his temper when pushed and needled by other Lords who wish to teste the new Rohirric King. However with Éowyn advising him, and the support of Aragorn, Boromir, and Imrahil, he’s able to navigate the political waters a little more easily, no matter how it chafes him to be surrounded by uptight and pompous sycophants.
Legolas
Male – OLD – Prince – Gondor (Minas Tirith)/Mirkwood
Face Claim: Orlando Bloom (Legolas!)
Links: Son of Thranduil
Notes: Canon.
Fics: On Swift Wings, Gift of Mortals
Personality: Empathetic with the turmoil that the kingdom of Gondor has gone through, Legolas believes that the citizens will need time to recover from the trauma of battle, and advises as such. However he’s all too aware of the fleeting lives of men, and understands that for them to truly recover, the signs of war and battle must be smoothed away first. Its this which prompts him to suggest that aid should be sent to Minas Tirith from the regions of Gondor, and even goes as far as to send word to his father and request carpenters and plant-wrights in a bid to bring life back to the once great city.
Gimli
Male – 140(?) – Lord – Gondor (Minas Tirith)
Face Claim: John Rhys-Davies (Gimli!)
Links: Son of Gloin
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Steadfast and loyal, Gimli has found himself invested in the lives of men and is quick to offer his expertise in assessing the city’s damage, even offering to call upon his dwarven kin to help rebuild. As such, he’s quickly integrated himself amongst the more reasonable Lords and finds himself with numerous invitations to visit the various regions of Gondor, although he’s amusingly aware that many of the Lords are seeking dwarven crafting or trade within their own settlements. He’s not going to discourage them though, as Gimli is delighted by the idea of further trade.
Prince Imrahil
Male – 25/64 – Prince – Gondor (Dol Amroth)
Face Claim: Henry Cavill (Tudors)
Links: Son of Adrahil and Finariel, sister of Findulias and Irviniel, husband of Mireniel, father of Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos, and Lothíriel
Notes: Canon, younger faceclaim due to being in HoHW too.
Fics: Hell or High Water, On Swift Wings,
Personality: Stately and regal, Imrahil is a skilled leader and the highest ranked Lord within Gondor, holding influence with is second only to the Stewards. With a keen eye, Imrahil isn’t easily fooled by acts or swayed by honeyed words, something which many of the Lords find difficult to work with, as he frequently seems to be ‘above’ the petty infighting and politicking that frequently happens. He is, however, a force to be reckoned with, a wise leader, and source of advice and assessment to any Lord that should require it.
Prince Elphir
Male – 32 – Prince – Gondor (Dol Amroth)
Face Claim: Richard Madden (Medici)
Links: Son of Imrahil and Mireniel, brother of Erchirion, Amrothos, and Lothíriel, husband of Suioril, father of Alphros
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: The eldest son and Heir to Dol Amroth, Elphir has been raised to take his father’s place someday. While this is a considerable amount of pressure, Elphir is confident and capable, already starting to act in his father’s stead when required, and clearly has the temperament required to be a Lord. He can, however, be prompted into foolishness by his younger brothers, but even then Elphir will maintain the position of ‘responsible one’, and keeps the pair from getting into too much trouble.
Prince Erchirion
Male – 29 – Prince – Gondor (Dol Amroth)
Face Claim: Adrian Enscoe (Dickinson)
Links: Son of Imrahil and Mireniel, brother of Elphir, Amrothos, and Lothíriel
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: As the middle son, it was expected that Echirion would take command of the Swan Knights, however his aptitude is far more aligned with that of the mercantile business, with a head for numbers, an eye for deals, and an approachable attitude which is quick to form alliances and trade. Erchirion is quickly becoming a reliable source to the other Lords outside of his own family, for facilitating trade between the regions, and as such, is now training under his aunt Irviniel in all things to do with the Swan Fleet and their trading businesses.
Prince Amrothos
Male – 25 – Prince – Gondor (Dol Amroth)
Face Claim: Luke Newton (Colin Bridgerton)
Links: Son of Imrahil and Mireniel, brother of Elphir, Erchirion, and Lothíriel, partner of Filrien
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: It was fully expected for Amrothos to take over as lead of the merchant business, however he holds little interest in trade or deals, and as such has become a far more likely candidate for captaining the Swan Knights. He’s a skilled fighter and strategist, and despite being badly injured at Morannon, Amrothos hasn’t lost his smartass attitude, nor his inclination for mischief, although both facets have been somewhat dampened. He’s more than capable of maintaining a stricter façade during meetings, but will occasionally slip into his usual sarcastic self.
Forlong the Fat (Deceased)
Male – Deceased – Lord – Gondor (Lossarnach)
Face Claim: Donald Sutherland (Pride and Prejudice)
Links: Husband of Rhossolas, father of Geldrong, grandfather of Glaeron, Magron, and Ruinloth
Notes: Canon, dies on Pelannor Fields
Fics: On Swift Wings (Mentioned)
Personality: Previous Lord of Lossarnach, Forlong was killed during the battle of Pelannor Fields, leaving his son, Gelrong to rule. He was known to be a powerful fighter even into his later years, and had implemented the Rose Knights of Lossarnach, a contingent of highly trained soldiers. Despite this military prowess, he was also known to enjoy luxuries, exhibited by his seat in Lossarnach, a beautiful if frivolous building of many turrets and towers, filled with lavish furniture and beautiful works of art. Such wealth occurred thanks to Lossarnach’s trade in fruits, crops, flowers, dyes, spices, and waxes.
Geldrong
Male – 56 – Lord – Gondor (Lossarnach)
Face Claim: Rossif Sutherland (Reign)
Links: Son of Forlong and Rhossolas, husband of Úlloth, father of Glaeron, Magron, and Ruinloth
Notes: Fan made, becomes Lord after Forlong dies on Pelannor Fields
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Only recently having become Lord of Lossarnach Geldrong is determined to make his mark and maintain his family’s good standing in the world of Gondorian politics. He holds fasts to traditions, believing them to be the backbone of a stable rule, and is resistant to change. The arrival of a new king threatens their hard-earned status, something that Geldrong is wary of, and while he’s willing to see how Aragorn does, he believes that too much change will put his family’s status and position within Gondor at risk.
Hirluin the Fair (Deceased)
Male – Deceased – Lord – Gondor (Pennath Gelin)
Face Claim: Tony Curran (Labyrinth)
Links: Husband of Falasriel, father of Hithuion, Falfuin, Alphalas, and Alphriel
Notes: Canon, dies on Pelannor Fields
Fics: On Swift Wings (Mentioned)
Personality: Titled ‘the Fair’ for his unusual blond colouration and his propensity for treating every man within his region with understanding and respect, he supported his wife unwaveringly, and adored his three sons and daughter. Hirluin may have been a minor Lord, but he easily earnt respect from the other Lords of Gondor, often acting as a mediator and peacekeeper during more agitated meetings. It came as a great shock to all, to hear that he and his three sons were killed on the Pelannor Fields during a bid to protect an old family friend, Lord Forlong.
Falasriel
Female – 51 – Lady – Gondor (Pinnath Gelin)
Face Claim: Melia Kreiling (Bianca Gonzaga)
Links: Wife of Hirluin, mother of Hithuion, Falfuin, Alphalas, and Alphriel
Notes: Fan made,
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: As the wife of Hirluin, Falasriel was expected to dutifully remain within Pinnath Gelin during the approaching war, so when she arrived alongside her husband and their men via ship, it came as a surprise. The death of her husband and three sons was shocking, but she remained strong and was able to rally the last of their men into defending the city and assisting the host. While Hirluin had given strict instructions that she was to command their men in his absence, this upset many Lords who are reluctant to accept a Lady as their equal, but Falasriel has no issue holding her own against them, and doesn’t hesitate to stake her claim.
Northiligand
Male – 43 – Captain – Gondor (Anduin Delta)
Face Claim: Eoin Macken (Merlin)
Links: Husband of Sapirîn, son of Nesrael and Ingthil, cousin of Maegang
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: As a very minor Lord over the region consisting of the Anduin Delta, Northiligand prefers the title of Captain, and reports directly to his cousin the Lord of Pelargir, Maegang. However they do not get along. Due to his region being so small and populated almost entirely by fishermen, Northiligang was unable to bring significant numbers with him to Minas Tirith, however his connection to Harondor through his wife Sapirîn, enabled him to enlist a small number of Harondian’s to travel north and protect the city. He arrived too late to join the Host to Morannon, but was quick to have his men assisting in the defence of the city and the routing of lingering orcs.
Golasgil
Male – 62 – Lord – Gondor (Anfalas)
Face Claim: Graham McTavish (House of the Dragon)
Links: Husband of Rosgeth
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: From the small coastal region of Anfalas, Golasgil is one of the older Lords and was close friends with Hirluin due to their neighbouring lands. He managed to bring a small contingent of soldiers, along with numerous men from his lands, and while he sent the soldiers to Morannon with the Host, the hunters, herdsmen, and villagers, remained behind to defend Minas Tirith. He has a great love for his coastal lands, and is somewhat mistrustful of the high Lords, believing them to be power hungry and uninterested in his own region, unfortunately this perception hasn’t earnt him many alliances.
Lathron
Male – 40s – Lord – Gondor (Linhir)
Face Claim: Mark Ryder (Borgia)
Links: Son of Nendhir and Dailieth, cousin to Boromir and Faramir
Notes: Fan made.
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Lord Nendhir of Linhir married Lady Dailieth, sister of Denethor, making Lathron cousins to Boromir and Faramir, this lineage combined with the influential position of being Lindhir’s Lord, gives Lathron a significant position of power within the hierarchy of Gondorian politics. He is, however, rather new to the role, as his father died almost a year before. As such, Lathron is seeking to stake his own claim, build new alliances, and reinforce old ones, all of which would be far easier to do if the King had not returned.
(He was next in line to become Steward, should Boromir and Faramir die.)
Húrin the Tall
Male – 69 – Warden of the Keys – Gondor (Minas Tirith)
Face Claim: david suchet (hollow crown)
Links: Husband of Gellin
Notes: Canon, TALL
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: As Warden of the Keys, Húrin is a figure of significant importance within Minas Tirith, as he’s entrusted with guarding the city during the Stewards absence or incapacitation. As such, during the Host’s march on Morannon, and Faramir’s recovery within the Houses of Healing, Húrin was in charge of maintaining the cities defences. With a level head on his shoulders and little interest in playing the game of politics, Húrin was able to organise the Lords and their men and provided Minas Tirith with its best chance of survival, until the return of the King.
Angbor the Fearless
Male – 45 – Lord – Gondor (Lamedon)
Face Claim: Matthew McNulty (BBC Musketeers: Lucian)
Links: Older brother of Anborn
Notes: Canon, I am normal about him
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Surly and gruff, Angbor has little interest in politics and only turns up to meetings because he has to. Lamedon is a heavily forested area of Gondor just south of the White Mountains, while it’s a large region, is sparsely populated due to frequent incursions of orcs from the mountain, as such, Angbor commands a good number of men, albeit spread out across a wide area. Despite his rough exterior and personality, he has a good heart, and frequently sends out his men to assist in protecting the other regions of Gondor, and often supplies Captain Faramir with new recruits for the Rangers.
Duinhir the Tall
Male – Late 40s – Lord – Gondor (Morthond)
Face Claim: Leo Suter (Vikings Valhalla)
Links: Husband of Thilioril, father of Duilin and Derudin, brother of Drauhir
Notes: Canon, TALL
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: Having brought 500 skilled bowmen to the battle of Pelannor Fields, Duinhir is a skilled taction and didn’t hesitate to ride out in the defence of the city alongside his sons Duilin and Derudin. However it was during this ride, that both sons were killed, trampled to death by Mûmakil, distraught at the loss, he recklessly threw himself into battle alongside his men, either in a bid to avenge or join his sons in death. Despite his best efforts, Duinhir survived, although he sustained injuries which prevented his joining of the Host to Morannon, while grieving, he is still has a sharp mind and utterly no tolerance for political bullshit.
Drauhir
Male – Late 40s – Lord of Ringló Vale – Gondor (Ringló Vale)
Face Claim: Timothy Omundson (Galavant)
Links: Husband of Ninneth, father of Dervorin and Lhinniel, brother of Duinhir
Notes: Fan made, I love this man
Fics: On Swift Wings, Respite from Revelry
Personality: Coming across as incredibly jovial and light-hearted, many mistake Drauhir for being childish and impulsive. Truthfully, this is a façade he maintains around the other Lords, and while he is upbeat and cheerful, he’s more than able to hold his own during discussions and arguments, using their perceptions of him against them. Drauhir may be from a small region in Ringló Vale, but the extensive timber logging his people perform, supplies the coastal settlements with all lumber needed for shipwrights, and as such, keeps Gondor’s coasts safe against the corsairs.
Dervorin
Male – 25 – Captain – Gondor (Ringló Vale)
Face Claim: Hayden Christensen (Outcast)
Links: Son of Drauhir and Ninneth, brother of Lhinniel
Notes: Canon
Fics: On Swift Wings,
Personality: While young and eager to prove himself, Dervorin is anything but impulsive and reckless, with a level head and steady hand, he is entrusted with the command of his father’s forces. Having joined the march to Morannon, Dervorin managed to make a name for himself, as while under his command their 300 men took minimal losses and returned to Minas Tirith with over 200 men still living. Its this tactical mindset which earned him a seat at the council chamber alongside his father and uncle, but whether his even temperament can hold up in the battle of politics, remains to be seen.
Maegang
Male – 55 – Lord – Gondor (Pelargir)
Face Claim: Pyry Kähkönen (Vikings Valhalla)
Links: Son of Pethrion and Maedeth
Notes: Fan made, he's a DICK
Fics: Hell or High Water? On Swift Wings,
Personality: As the son of Pelargir’s Lord, Maegang was raised expecting to take over the command of their sizable fleet of warships. However during the year 2980, an attempt to defeat the corsairs required the return of all their warships, this was noticed by the corsairs, and the city attacked in the dead of night. Nearly all 80+ ships were destroyed, and Maegang’s future rule drastically shifted. Now instead of becoming the Lord of Gondor’s naval force, Maegang is instead the Lord of a trading town, and with significantly reduced influence in politics. Something he is still intensely bitter of forty years later.
Thats it, that's everyone of significance in this meeting!
I'll add some links here later on when I have more faceclaim posts uloaded.
Summary: Lothíriel has made tremendous efforts to integrate Rohirric customs and learn the language of her new kingdom. In return, Éomer wishes to show the same endeavour in Dol Amroth, but it does not go nearly as well.
Words: 2,594
Theme: Culture shock
Read on Ao3 here.
They had arrived less than two days ago, and it was already a disaster.
It was the first time since their Edoras wedding that Éomer and Lothíriel travelled to Dol Amroth. Since settling in Rohan and being crowned queen of this foreign realm, she had, at times, found herself much too overwhelmed by nostalgia and the longing for familiarity to carry out some of her royal obligations. At night, when all candles were snuffed and the wind raked against the façade of glorious Meduseld, she would weep until slumber and exhaustion crept in and claimed her. She missed long strolls on the shore — either on her own or with her brothers — and watching the dolphins leap among the waves in the distance, guarding ships as they depart. Her tongue longed for the hearty dishes adorned with varieties of herbs from her region, for the rich yet fresh flavours preciously preserved in her father’s wine cellar. When loneliness struck, when her nerves gained the upper hand and when doubts invaded her, she would seek any remnant of her mother’s perfume into the folds of a shawl passed down to her, but it became harder to find by the day.
So, Éomer had written to Prince Imrahil in secret, politely requesting permission to bring her back to her homeland to soothe her heart. A week, maybe two, enough for her to reconnect with the palace and the people that had seen her grow and return to Rohan with a lighter spirit. He could not begin to imagine how brutal this change had been for her, to dwell in the seafoam and be brought to the rocky mountainside. Everything in her new home was different. Her days beat to a rhythm of unknown customs, bathed in a language she did not speak. Her free hours were spent in study, replicating the Rohirric script over and over until she could write it autonomously or and decipher its letters. Her husband had employed a tutor to oversee her education in the speech of the Rohirrim, aiding her in perfecting her pronunciation and accent, although no one would reprimand her for retaining some of her Dol Amroth lilt. Éomer cherished it.
But try as he may, there was too little space allocated to her own culture, dialect or customs. No wonder she felt so homesick. As such, he decided that this visit to the coastal city would be an opportunity for him to learn about where she hailed from in return. That was the least he could do. Afterwards, he promised himself, he would make efforts to bring some of her traditions to Meduseld, or, if the court vehemently objected, to their domestic life. He would arrange for certain foods to be available or prepared on symbolic days which she could not celebrate with her kin. He would commission tapestries from the best artisans in her region to decorate their chambers and the study he had built for her and her precious scrolls. He would ensure that their children would speak both languages and that they would know the ancient songs of both Edoras and Dol Amroth, for they belonged to both lands at once.
But first, he had to survive a stay in Dol Amroth. And the prospects were not brilliant.
Upon their arrival, Éomer breached local etiquette by embracing Imrahil in front of his court. He did not understand why so many courtiers glared at him as he passed them by, or why whispers spread throughout the assembly. Without thinking, he had clapped his friend and ally’s back in a warm gesture, typical of his people. He did not learn until later that night from his wife that the court had perceived it as a vulgar affront towards the prince. As he groaned and buried his face into his hands, Lothíriel assured him that neither she nor her father saw it as an insult. Imrahil knew Éomer well enough to recognise that the gesture bore no ill intent.
The next morning, they had all shared a sumptuous family breakfast. Cheeses, steaming bread, seasoned fish, eggs, and savoury pastries had adorned the table, coaxing any onlooker into drooling. Imrahil had selected two fitting wines from his cellar, in hopes that his guest would discover the tastes of the region. While Éomer traditionally sated himself with meat in the morning, but he was willing to exchange it for the fish and complement the flavour with a crisp white wine of his father-in-law’s choosing. Finding the combination strange yet delicious nonetheless, the Rohir had not hesitated to help himself to more wine as they exchanged about itineraries between their cities. Amrothos had gently pressed a finger to the pitcher’s beak, tilting it up and interrupting the flow and Éomer’s talking. With a smile, Lothíriel’s brother had turned to one of the servants standing by.
‘An ngell nîn,’ he had said, prompting one man to step forward and fill Éomer’s cup before his confused eyes. Amrothos had then explained to the king that no courtier nor royal would help themselves to a drink, for it had to be poured for them. ‘Most of the household speaks Sindarin, so you must address them in it. Do you have any knowledge of it?’
‘I am afraid not.’
‘An ngell nîn. It simply means ‘please.’ You can go a long way with it.’
‘A gall nin.’
‘Almost.’
Later that day, Éomer, Lothíriel and her mother had indulged in a walk along the cliffs outside the city walls. Below them, the waves lapped at the mossy rocks, their foam splashing high onto the grass above. Some fish could be seen pecking at the algae in search of sustenance, fended off by orange and red crabs snapping at them to defend their territory. After spending a few minutes watching them, the family had set out for the lighthouse, crossing the white stone bridge binding the mainland to this lonesome patch of boulders upon which stood the tower, reflecting the city’s architectural style. Its guardian had escorted them to the top floor, from which they had beheld a stunning view of the sea and the horizon. Éomer had never seen anything similar. While he loved his mountains, hills and plains, there was something rather peaceful about the water, undisturbed by man-made structures. The salted air had filled his lungs, making him cough a few times, but he had grown accustomed to it much faster than anticipated. Lothíriel’s mother had taught him what lay beyond the waters around Dol Amroth. Far southward — thus to their left —, the Haradwaith lay on the other side of the Bay of Belfalas, a broad stretch of land that none of them had ventured into, awfully foreign despite the shared border with Gondor. She had showed him the direction of Edhellond, pointing out the towers the mist could not completely conceal. He had vaguely remembered the harbour’s connection with the Elves and Lothíriel had filled in the gaps with her history knowledge.
When they had descended, they had headed for the harbour so the Rohir could see the ships stationed there. They had discussed the tides with fishermen preparing to leave, watching their careful process and studying the material they would carry out to sea. Éomer saw nearly every type of vessel, from humble barques bobbing on the water to majestic three-masted ships whose sails were not yet unfolded. Further along, they had found a quiet beach of thin, white sand. He had taken off his boots to feel it under his toes, grinning as they sank into the grains. He had then attempted to bathe them into the seawater, but its coldness had chilled his bones instantly, causing him to hop out of reach with a gasp. The two women had giggled behind their sleeves, knowing better than to step further in such a weather. While retrieving his boots, Éomer had caught a glimpse of several seashells scattered onto the ground. He had picked up an empty scallop shell, holding it up to show Lothíriel.
‘This one is intact, we should place it somewhere in our chambers, a piece of your home.’
The Princess of Dol Amroth had instantly stepped forward, gently holding his wrist and lowering it towards the ground. She had patiently explained that these specific shells should never be picked up, for they had been placed there by wives and mothers in hopes that the bay’s treacherous tides would allow their husbands and sons to return from their expeditions. Stuttering apologies, he had placed the shell where he had found it, aligning it with the dent it had left in the sand.
The next afternoon, the Rohir had explored the city while his wife rode out with her father for a quiet moment together. As he had passed a tavern, he had come across Elphir and Erchirion drinking cider while playing cards. They had beckoned him inside, inviting him to join, and the three of them had played for some time, sharing jokes and talking about their families. Elphir had gleefully recounted his son’s first steps, praising him for walking earlier than most children, although he could not yet speak. He had told of the education that he and his wife wished to instil in him, of how they wished to travel across Middle-earth for his enrichment, and of how they might send him into fosterage in Minas Tirith or Emyn Arnen for his political and diplomatic education. Éomer had assured him that there would always be space for them at Meduseld should they visit, insisting that Lothíriel would be delighted to welcome them there. As for Erchirion, he had bashfully admitted to being in the midst of courting a lady from Calembel, and he hoped that both Imrahil and her father would grant him permission to propose to her. Elphir had tousled his hair, teasing his brother for being infatuated, but wished him much joy in their relationship.
When came the time to pay, Éomer had enjoyed the afternoon so much that he had decided to invite both of his new brothers. He had placed precisely enough coin into the innkeeper’s palm, thanking him for his good service. Elphir and Erchirion had not been enthusiastic. The former had enlightened the Rohir about local customs, telling him of the unspoken rule that foreigners should never pay for locals, since they should be the ones introducing newcomers to their cuisine. Erchirion had then indicated that it was conventional to thank innkeepers or any service provider with a few extra coins. Éomer had stammered in response, trying to explain that he merely wished to treat them well after their warm welcome, and that, in Rohan, the prices already reflected the quality of service, thus rendering tips unnecessary and sometimes rude. The two had patted him on the shoulders, assuring him that no harm had been done, and Erchirion met with the innkeeper again to slip some money across the counter.
And then came dinner. This time, instead of a dinner limited to the royal family, a banquet with the courtiers had been organised. Minstrels had come to entertain the guests, singing and playing their instruments, whose sounds were soon drowned by the hubbub of chatter and laughter. Éomer and Lothíriel had arrived dressed in silks and brocades, their hair braided in the intricate patterns of Belfalas and scented with mint and irises. They had paid their respects to the Prince, before mingling with the other nobles present. All had seemed to improve for Éomer, who made conscious efforts not to offend anybody this time.
But when the food was served, the tides had changed. Imrahil had given a speech about his elation for his daughter’s return, even though for too short a time, and had welcomed aloud all that he had not been able to converse with yet. Then, opening the festivities, he had called for all to enjoy the feast. Various dishes had been placed on the tables, from fish stews to generous portions of turkey, infused with thyme and herbs that Éomer did not quite recognise. Since he had missed the poultry dishes of Rohan, he had asked one of the maidens to serve him two turkey legs and vegetables, which he combined with a medium-bodied red wine. While his wife busied herself talking to another woman, Éomer dedicated himself to his meal. Perhaps if he did not talk, then he would limit the damage that his ignorant tongue could cause. With his bare hands, he lifted the leg and bit through the crispy skin, humming with delight as the flavours exploded on his tongue and coated his mouth with a fresh sensation.
Then the hall turned silent.
He did not notice it at first, so plunged into his own thoughts was he. Instead, he gladly devoured the meat from the thing bones. When he reached for his cup, he felt that all the eyes were set on him. With his mouth still full, he observed the people with a quizzical expression, slowly furrowing his brow. Imrahil had allowed them to eat, had he not?
As he licked his fingers clean, putting the turkey down, he then understood what the cause of their offense had been. All who had indulged in the same dish as he held their cutlery, cutting small pieces before eating. Not that the concept of cutlery was foreign to him — Rohan used them too. Only poultry, due to the bone structure and the manner in which the meat was cut, was much too difficult to eat with a fork and knife. It was common for the Rohirrim to use their hands to facilitate eating, and it was often a way to show how delicious the dish was. If one was willing to soil their hands with the grease, oils and herbs, then it would not be for something they deemed inedible.
But Dol Amroth had much different customs, it seemed.
He felt a knot tying in his stomach. He had made far more mistakes than he would have allowed himself to make, offending both his family and the people. Lothíriel had never done so in Edoras. Everybody enjoyed her company and the grace with which she had accustomed herself to their manners. Obviously he was not as careful or attentive as she was. Red hues coloured his well-groomed cheeks, and he contemplated running for the door to hide somewhere until they would depart for Meduseld.
Whispers rose anew.
‘How vulgar,’ one said.
‘Savage manners,’ another hissed.
He caught yet another remark demeaning his people as an ‘uneducated breed’, and it was too much for him. As he reached for his napkin to wipe his fingers, deciding to leave indeed, he heard the loud clatter of cutlery on a plate coming from his right. When he turned his gaze, he beheld both Lothíriel and Imrahil ditching their silverware and lifting their own turkey legs to their mouths. Their teeth cut through the white meat, ripping it off and chewing it without a care in the world. As shock passed through the assembly of courtiers, Amrothos imitated them, picking carrots up in the same fashion. Since none dared to express their indignation, Elphir and Erchirion joined in, coming to Éomer’s rescue.
‘It is much more practical this way,’ Imrahil declared, raising his eyebrows in surprise. ‘There is much we can learn from the Rohirrim.’
Out of respect, most courtiers lowered their forks and feasted with their bare hands for the first time since infancy.
Éomer watched in disbelief, struggling to conceal the few tears brimming his eyes.
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Summary: Boromir, on a rare trip to visit his young cousins in Dol Amroth, is taken for an afternoon of sailing by three of them. The cygnets peck at him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@konartiste Oh look what happened by accident (Jean wrote the first few Agatha Christie Au chapters and actually posted them, good god will she ever be this productive again??)
Summary:
Eomer Eadig, Eddie to his friends, is the newly minted Earl of Meduseld. He does not particularly want to be this. He wants even less to be dragged into a murder investigation, particularly not an impromptu one. It suits him even less to have said impromptu murder investigation spearheaded by a woman he best remembers as a little girl on a too big pony. But Lady Lothiriel is little Lola no longer. Her mind is sharp, her flapper skirts are short, and she's not averse to taking the wheel when she has to. Literally. Perhaps, when the hand dragging you into intrigue is as dainty as hers, all of us might stumble and fall. The question is, perhaps, just what have they fallen into - and can they solve a murder without allowing it to distract them?
