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  1. Public Bookmark 88

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    The years rolled on, as they always did. Sif had lived through so many now, centuries of war. She had been a child once, she remembered, dreaming of a warrior’s armor and a warrior’s title. They called her Lady Sif now, Guardian of Asgard, and gave deep nods to her in the streets.

    Sif put on her armor in cold mornings and thought, "Once I wished for this." What did she wish for now?

    No matter. She was tired. She was mourning. But she could imagine no life but this. Any other life would make her pale and fade. This one made her burn, iron at the heart of a flame, the heart of a star, and she could imagine no other way worth living.

    (a character study of Lady Sif)

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    07 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    When Sam came home, there was a feather in Pippin’s cap, a horn on Merry’s hip. All Sam had was a box of dirt with one large, smooth seed tucked inside. Even in Mordor, Sam had only been fighting for the Shire. He spent the rest of his life helping things grow.  

    Let’s talk about Sam crying over rabbit stew, because a brace of coneys had been a spot of luck, once; because even then, even when he still had his pots and his pans, when Frodo had not yet snarled at him and told him to go– Mr. Frodo had still been gone too far by then to ever come back again.

    Rosie, who did not cry easy, chopped onions so he would not be the only one with wet cheeks to scrub off. She asked him about herbs and spices, about stirring and cooking times, about what loaf would go best with it all. Sam said, “Rosemary, tarragon.” Part of him still rang against the greening metal of a copper pot dropped down a chasm and left somewhere on the edges of Mordor, but she saw him breathe deep and reach for thyme.  

    (a story for Rosie Cotton)

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    07 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Let’s talk about a Susan who never moved on, who buried her family in English soil and spent the rest of her life trying to find her way home. She did not believe lions were kind, but she always remembered a bow in her schoolgirl hands.

    She looked in every old wardrobe she came across. It was casual, everyday– the first day in a new lecture hall, she checked the back of the coat closet. Friends had her over for Christmas dinner and she excused herself to go the bathroom, checked every cabinet and closet, and then headed back in for pudding. She went home with a cute boy she met in a smoky little pub and she checked his wardrobe before she headed home the next morning, heels in hand.

    She also went to college, got a political science degree she had to fight for. She got a byline in the local paper, a few ladies’ magazines, then a larger regional publication.

    She had mimosa brunches with friends. She read detective novels, never touched fantasy, and finally one day she stepped through an old stone archway barely thinking about it and–-

    She was standing in a treeless plain, all yellow grass and blue blue skies.

     

    (Susan Pevensie goes to Middle Earth)

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    07 Jul 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    This was not a story about love or about death, not in the end, not the part that mattered. It was a story about choosing the life you wanted to live and hanging onto that, against all perils, all harms. Arwen wrapped her hands around Aragorn’s, the sword calluses on one, the ink stains on the other, her Ranger, her soldier, her king and her friend. She held on tight, kissed his brow, and thought about the rebuilding of the north wall.

    Arwen and Luthien both had been asked to choose between peace and creation; eternal light, or lighting the flame themselves. They were Prometheus, the titan descended to earth. Every death they pulled out of Arwen was worth it for the things she got to build.

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    07 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    There is no killing a deathless thing. There is no saving the man gurgling his last on the ground behind you. But you raise your sword in challenge. You are a shieldmaiden of Rohan and you will stand by your king. You are Eowyn, Theoden’s daughter in all but name, and you will defy this horror until the very end of you.

    But you are no man. They do not tell any stories of your end.

    So you do not end here.

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    07 Jul 2026