libertariantimes:

Something good in this world…

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AU where Faramir went to Rivendell instead of Boromir?

mementomakomori:

notbecauseofvictories:

  • Everything turns out okay.
  • That sounds flippant but imagine Denethor sending the right son to do the right job.
  • Faramir goes to the cool green glade of Elrond, where he speaks of dreams and waves, and the elves whisper that the blood of Numenor runs true in the House of Hurin; Boromir spends his time riding like hell between Ithilien and Osgiliath, speaking with men around smoky fires, embracing his captains and saying to them, take heart, gather your strength, these are the times which test a man’s soul and lift it to glory, but we will see dawn come, we will keep Gondor free.
  • Though they are cut from different cloth, this is something Boromir and Faramir have always shared–they are men deserving of leadership, they would be followed under the shadow of the East. Boromir aches for every one of his countrymen cut down, screams his defiance to the orc armies and rallies his arms; Faramir listens to the words of wisdom Aragorn offers, is gentle and kindly with the hobbits, greets Legolas in his mother tongue, offers Master Gimli praise.
  • Wandering with the Fellowship below the empty sky, Faramir looks up at Maethor, the Warrior constellation, and thinks of his brother, prays that he is well, that he is safe, that he is still a little pompous, stilted, honest.
  • Boromir spends another sleepless night playing with the chain at his neck, the small portraits of his mother and brother. (I cannot lose you too, I cannot–come back hale and whole, come back angry and proud and cunning and defiant of our father–)
  • Faramir has never known the weight of all Gondor on his shoulders, and so is not tempted by the power the Ring offers.
  • Boromir has always known the love of his father, and so never bears the scorn of Denethor when Osgiliath must be abandoned as too tenuous a position to hold.
  • The day that Faramir comes striding into the Citadel, a child and wizard at his heels, Boromir cries out with joy as he has not for more years than counting, and they nearly bruise one another with their embrace.
  • “You are almost skeletal, little brother,” Boromir laughs, though it is not true–Faramir looks touched with strangeness and greatness, as one whom the Witch-Queen of Lorien found favor in, whose nobility of form and face had ensnared the heart of the White Princess of Rohan.
  • “And you look at least two-stone heavier, elder brother,” Faramir says, though it is false, Boromir is hollowed out and worn thin, deep shadows beneath his eyes and hunger-starved cheeks; in a glance, Faramir knows he neither eats nor sleeps nor laughs, nor feels–and Faramir, wiser and older than when he left, can see the weight his brother has always carried, and how lightly–all the stone of Minas Tirith on his shoulders, and still–
  • “I have missed you, little brother.”
  • “And I you, elder brother.”

“Everything turns out okay.”

image

softdomme:

peppermint-dyke:

girlactionfigure:

“A very old man came in to my Starbucks. Halfway through struggling to understand his order through his thick accent, he noticed my necklace. He stopped and said “Your star is beautiful.”, and I thanked him. There was a long pause before he spoke again. When he did, he said “It is beautiful, but I am having a hard time looking at it. The last time I wore one, it was mandatory.”
We then spoke to each other in Hebrew for a bit. But soon enough he stopped again, and looked back to my star. With one hand he held mine, and used his other hand to shakily touch the sapphires on my necklace. His lip shook, and tears rolled down his cheeks. In a shaky, heavily German-accented whisper, he said “I am so happy you are here. Your generation is here. We won.” and kissed my hand.✡”

From Humans of Judaism

@recoverandheal ❤️

Oh My god My heart gave out. It’s heartbreaking and beautiful and sweet all at once. It just makes Me so happy thinking about how much brighter his day must have been after seeing you.

~Miss Jessica

quiobi-lover:

infinitejedilove:

I am not to speak to you

I am to think of you when 

I sit alone or wake at night alone

I am to wait

I do not doubt 

I am to meet you again 

I am to see to it that

I do not lose you

      – Walt Whitman

*cries*