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#rohan – @thelegendofclarke on Tumblr

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@thelegendofclarke / thelegendofclarke.tumblr.com

Mere. She/Her. Multifandom. House Stark Loyalist™. Salty winter adult and permanently exhausted pigeon. Known for my viciousness, continuous bullshit, two-faced fuckery, and desperation to maintain my BNF/Meta Queen status.
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“Éowyn, Éowyn!” cried Éomer amid his tears. But she opened her eyes and said: “Éomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?” “Not long, my sister,” said Éomer. “But think no more on it!”

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frodo-sam

And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white; and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.

‘Éowyn, Éowyn!’ he cried at last: ‘Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!’ . The Return of the King, J. R. R. Tolkien.

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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.
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ridddermark
the grass-lands rolled against the hills that clustered at their feet, and flowed up into many valleys still dim and dark, untouched by the light of dawn, winding their way into the heart of the green mountains.  far inward they glimpsed a tumbled mountain-mass with one tall peek; at the mouth of the vale there stood like a sentinel a lonely height. about its feet there flowed, as a thread of silver, the stream that issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught, still far away, a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold.
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