*rohan

doctorbullets asked:

Does Joseph know Japanese? I know it's a Japanese series, but if this was the real world, would Joseph be speaking English in Japan? Cuz I saw your post of him talking to Rohan about Rohan's manga being in English. If this was real life, would Rohan answer him in English or Japanese? And Joseph's son, grandson, and son in-law are all Japanese. So how does he speak to them? I really want to know where Holly learned Japanese, how she met her husband, etc.

I presume in Stardust Crusaders Joseph and the rest of the Crusaders talk predominately in English. Joseph may know the odd few phrases, but it would be weak and pretty much tourist level. Jotaro is Japanese, but he has an English speaking mother, as well as possibly learning the language in school so he probably learned enough to converse, even if he’s not completely confident using it at 17 like he would be Japanese.

By the time DIU comes along, I think he’d be more present in Holly and Jotaro’s lives, making more frequent visits to Japan and thus learning the language while being surrounded by it. The people in DIU probably converse predominately in Japanese. But because Joseph learned it by spoken word, his reading ability didn’t really improve much, probably not beyond reading signs and labels around the town/city, too weak to read a manga with complete understanding.

Holly learned Japanese by living in Japan for 20 years. Sadao was a world musician, I presume she probably met him while he was on tour, whether it was at a concert, or she met him during his downtime. And I imagine he’d be able to speak English, since it’s a very widespread language, knowing it would be helpful.

The City of Kings

This is for the lovely @klarolinessecondbreakfast​ who made me such beautiful covers and requested LoTR crossover/fusion thing w/Klaroline. Just a note, this base more on the books than the events in the movie.

Happy Valentines Day!


Gondor still smelled of war.

Wrapped tightly in the heaviest cloak she’d thought to bring, Caroline of Rohan stared across the levels of Minas Tirith with curious eyes. The destruction of the gates was still visible, and the ruins around the city had slowly started to clear. At night, you could see the simmering coals from the burn pits, and if the wind was unfavorable you could smell them. Orcs and Easterlings, those horrible trolls were taken as far from the gates as the men dared; the slain sons and daughters of Eorl and Gondor were afforded what ceremony they could.

Caroline had gone to several of those small, formal goodbyes. Twice, she’d been the only attendee to whisper the tidings to speed their soul’s journey to the house of their kin. She was a girl from the Mark, knew little of these men from Gondor, but she fervently wished that they had found peace.

Those who were still among the living, they marched towards death. Three days ago, the bulk of the remaining Gondorian Troops and the Eorlingas had set out for Morannon. The healers who’d joined this one last push against Sauron’s black army were few, and she had been firmly instructed to continue her work at The House of Healing.

Klaus had not awoken.

Fingers clenched tightly in her skirt, Caroline exhaled a shaky breath. His fever had finally broken, but each day that he continued to sleep wrecked her. Head wounds were tricky, and it was possible Klaus would wake with no memory of the events that had nearly taken his life. If he woke.

Two days ago with her face bone white beneath neatly braided hair, a girl near her own age had barged in demanding to know of Klaus’ fate. Wide blue eyes and a lovely face, it’d had been the expression behind her eyes more than her looks that had told Caroline this was Klaus’ sister. The one he’d missed, all these years, though he’d rarely spoken of it.

Caroline had led her silently to his cot and then faded back into her duties. Gondor had been surprisingly open to those who’d had followed the Rohirrim, the battlefield healers who’d decided to tend to those who survived. But from the determined set to this girl’s mouth, Klaus’ ties to Rohan were far less important than the home he’d been so callously banished from.

She was not spoken for and Klaus had made her no promises. Whatever was between them was unspoken, and as far as Klaus was aware, Caroline had returned to Edoras. Perhaps it was best that she keep her presence quite, allow him to visit the family he’d loved so dearly without distraction.

She cast her eyes towards Mordor and swallowed. In the end, it might not matter. The fate of man would be determined in a matter of days. But that was tomorrow’s worry. Today, she had patients to tend to and bedding to wash.


Caroline kept her head lowered, as she sorted herbs and bandages with shaking hands. Theodred was dead, the Lady Eowyn gone to plead to his father to come give his respects. Blinking rapidly, she hastily wiped the moisture that spilled over, trembling with the effort to hold her tears.

“Caroline.”

Spine straightening, she twisted to stare at the man standing in the doorway. His gaze was hot with emotion, eyes intent as he studied her. He missed little, and she angled her chin stubbornly.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” She whispered fiercely, pushing to her feet to shoo him away. “Lord Wormtongue will not tolerate you among us!”

Wormtongue watched the healers with careful eyes, his gaze beefy as he catalogued their worth. He kept them all under watch, kept their services for those he deemed worthy. It was tricky, smuggling poultices and services to the common folk, but they were managing. But the true horror - the slime of his lust and greed - was saved only for Lady Eowyn.

Klaus’ presence threatened to ruin all her hard work.

His eyes went dark, gaze sharpening into a blade. It was easy to forget sometimes, that he was of Gondorian birth. Returning with his father at thirteen, he’d adapted well among the Horse Lords. Some had whispered his knack among the horses was more than just his father’s heritage, that his mother was a true daughter of Gondor, descended from the daughters of Elros. Caroline gave little stock to elf blood or elven gifts, but there was no mistaking Klaus’ ruthlessness on the field of battle.

“Has he touched you, Caroline?”

She glared at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She huffed, glancing quickly around the room before speaking quietly. “I’m not the prize he seeks.”

Something dangerous crawled through his eyes. Caroline didn’t know what to make of this visit. They’d interacted occasionally through the years, and while she could admit that he’d grown from the knobby kneed youth she’d known into something dangerously handsome, she had no place in his life.

Those rumors that spoke of elven blood also whispered of family and wealth left behind when Ansel had returned with his bastard son. She was just the daughter of a common soldier, given the opportunity to learn because he’d left left behind a widow and daughter saving the King’s life. King Theoden had taken them into his house, and she’d learned from the same tutors who taught his daughter. And now she used that knowledge as best she could, healing those wounded keeping their lands safe.

“Wormtongue has the King’s ear,” Caroline hissed when he didn’t so much as blink at her annoyance.

“Eomer has been imprisoned,” Klaus murmured, voice as quiet as her own. She sucked in a breath, fingers gripping his wrist tightly. She scanned his eyes.

“What?”

“The eoreds of the third Mark wait.”

“That is madness!” Caroline whispered. “He cannot! Theodred has left us and now he imprisons Lord Eomer?”

Klaus’ was suddenly so close she could feel his breath on her lips and she froze. Gaze locking with his, she swallowed at the tangle of emotions there. “You will be careful, sweetheart. War is coming. And my bones are uneasy.”

She licked her lips, “I will do my duty.”

“So will we both,” he murmured. Klaus shifted, pressed something cold to her palm. “You remember how to use a knife?”

Blinking, she lifted her chin. “Better than you.”

A curling smile that flashed dimples she had a weakness for, he brought the hand clenched around the scabbard to his mouth. “Be safe.”

Brows tucked together as he disappeared, she stared at the closed door. What did he mean?

What war?


Klaus woke slowly. He felt muddled, body heavy and unwilling to respond. For a moment, he couldn’t quite grasp what he was looking at, the remnants of a dream leaving him disoriented.

It’d been Caroline’s voice, that had so softly pulled him aware. The softest, lingering hint of the soap she preferred teasing his nose. But the tear streaked face staring at him, fingers white knuckles in his thin bedding wasn’t the face he was expecting. Older, her cheekbones sharper than the baby fat he remembered, disbelief colored his voice.

“Rebekah?”

“They said you’d wake up today or not at all,” she whispered, voice wobbling. “I got you moved to a better bed, but I couldn't…”

Her head ducked, shoulders trembling. He carefully reached for her hand, grasped her white knuckled fingers with his own. Gondor. He was in Gondor, after years of swallowing the harshness of his banishment from his mother’s house. He remembered the rage and terror, staring down at the fields he’d once known, covered in darkness.

Knowing somewhere among the screams and smoke was a family that had long since abandoned him.

“You’re alive? The others?”

Rebekah gripped his hand. “Finn and Elijah are missing. Father died two years ago, and I haven’t seen mother since the third gate fell. Kol and Henrik are safe.”

Klaus closed his eyes in relief. A short, sharp inhale had his gaze flickering about the room. There were men he did not know, women tending wounds, but something nagged at his bones. Gaze narrowing, he finally looked back at his sister.

“Where are you staying?”

“Our home was undamaged. The first two levels saw the worst of the siege, and they never reached the fourth gate with their troops. Although their machines and rock destroyed much.” Rebekah swallowed and straightened. “Denethor is dead. The King has returned, and they march on the Black Gate.”

It felt like a punch to his chest, to know he was here, instead of with his King. “And my King, Bekah? Does Theoden live?”

Face stricken, she licked her lips and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but the White Lady and her brother, they both live.”

Klaus froze. “Lady Eowyn was on the field?”

“Rumour says that she killed the Lord of the Nazgul,” Rebekah whispered. “That King Aragorn healed her and Lord Faramir of the Taint from a Morgul’s blade.”

Klaus tried to sit up and she stood, pushing him down frantically. “Are you mad?”

Gaze blazing, he stared at her. “You tell me that My Lady fought on those cursed fields, and you ask me if I’m mad?”

Rebekah scowled at him. “It will matter little, if you ruin those stitches and bleed out. Your injuries were grave, and I will not take news to our brothers that you died of stupidity! What exactly do you think you can do?”

He froze, stared at her. “Our brothers?”

Those bright eyes glared at him. “Did you think we have not missed you? That we didn’t know why? But you were gone and we needed you.”

Stricken, Klaus touched Rebekah’s chin. “I did not leave by my choice.”

Her eyes went calculating. “But you’ll abandon us in truth now? When we need you most?”

Klaus stared at her, wondered about the grief behind her eyes. Wondered what lover or friends were cold in death’s sleep. He swallowed, and angled his head. This sister he adored, but his home was elsewhere. He’d known it at sixteen, when he’d found himself facing a slim girl with big eyes refusing to give him an inch. Had felt it in his bones.

Premonitions his father had called them. Ansel had blamed it on his mother’s blood. Klaus had never confirmed or denied the secrets the horses had told him, content to keep their company. Regardless of rumour, the only opinion he’d been interested in had never asked.

“My life has changed, Rebekah.”

Blinking with her brow furrowed, Rebekah narrowed her eyes. “Are you married?”

“Not yet,” Klaus said. But he intended to be. The Battle of the Hornburg had shown him that Caroline’s heart was not so resistant to his advances.

“Lady Eowyn will be relieved that you are awake,” Rebekah said finally. “She comes by daily, to speak to the soldiers who were wounded.”

“My lady is kind.”

“The healers from your Rohan, they seemed to be very efficient,” Rebekah said finally, looking at the worry on his face. “I’m sure those remaining in their sick beds will recover.”

Klaus glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “Healers from Rohan?”

“They followed your Army. You looked surprised?” She looked a touch uncomfortable. “I thought this was common practice?”

Heart hammering, Klaus leaned back and scanned what he could of the area around his bed. The knowledge that something wasn’t quite right, the lingering emotions from his persistent dream made sense.

Caroline was here.

But she’d chosen not to show herself. The girl who’s told him furiously before he rode to Gondor that she would not mourn him if he died. The lady who’d tucked a lock of hair into his saddle, that he’d only discovered that night.

For luck.

“It is not uncommon.”

“Well, she’ll return tomorrow. If you have questions, perhaps she’ll have answers. I’m told not to excite you, so please rest.”

Klaus allowed himself to be settled. But his mind was turning over the puzzle he’d been handed, the relief of knowing Caroline was close and safe.

But not next to him.

As she should be.

Perhaps his Lady would have an insight.


It was the Great Horn of the Helm that woke her. Caroline had been dreaming, hazy things of the long trip to the Hornburg. Of the eoreds that had acted as escort, those cold days. Her thoughts had slid repeatedly to the dimpled rider who’d never been too far from her, over those days. He’d carefully shared his rations and glared at those with minor complaints into behaving as she and the other healers were stretched thin.

Sitting up as the caverns shook, Caroline staggered to her feet and stared at the entrance into the tunnels. Lady Eowyn was standing as well, and silence settled were before cries and prayers had echoed. Were they winning?

Had they lost?

It was hours before they were finally able to leave. Few were allowed to enter into the worst of the battle, of open flesh and endless blood. They’d already started to burn the bodies, time against them as disease and scavengers would follow the deaths. Swallowing her bile, she’d rolled up her sleeves and set to work.

When the sun started to set, Caroline was exhausted. The blades used by Orc were filthy and supplies were limited. The best she could do for most was be sure that wounds were clean and stitched, wrapped as best she could manage. Finding a quiet corner, she sat down on rubbery legs and sighed heavily.

She had no idea how long she’d sat there with her eyes closed, blood drying on her hands. A soft noise had her eyes opening and her heart stuttered at the sight of Klaus. He looked terrible and her fingers itched to touch him; to verify that he wasn’t a mirage after seeing the lifeless faces of so many friends.

“So you survived.” Her voice was a rasp filled with exhaustion.

Klaus’ dimples quirked along with his lips as he sank a piece of cloth into a small bowl of water and reached for her palm. She blinked as he cleaned her hand with careful, precise swipes.

“Several of the enemy did their best to claim my life for their own,” Klaus said simply. As if he hadn’t just fought for an entire night, hadn’t watched his friends be cut down. She bit her lip, uncertain what to say. Comfort wasn’t her strong point. She knew how to restock a supply room and how to organize the wounded based on severity with a glance.

“Are you alright?”

He dipped the cloth, and switched hands before his gaze flickered to hers. Eyes blue and potent, he ran his tongue across his lips to her fascinated gaze.  “You are well?”

“I was tucked away in the caverns,” she said in exasperation clear in her voice. “I’m fine.”

“Then I too, am well.”

Caroline almost snarled back at him, exhausted and emotionally worn. But the expression behind his eyes gave her pause. Something about the heat, that lingering iron from the battle left her heart pounding. Licking her lips, she took a steadying breath.

“If you fall ill, someone else will be attending you.”

Dimples and something wild behind his gaze, and then his eyes returned to her hands. With one last careful swipe, he dropped the rag and stood. “The cooking fire have started. Food, Caroline. Then what rest you can find.”

She slept as soon as she found a mat.

The next morning, she woke with a blanket not hers and the knowledge that rest had come easy not from exhaustion, but from knowledge.

For now, Klaus was safe.

War was a terrible time to realize you cared.


Caroline sat in a quiet courtyard, the little alcove one she’d discovered a few days ago.

They’d won.

Pressing her palms to her face, Caroline quietly wept. For a nearly a fortnight they’d worked and prayed, and cast their gaze to the East. That morning, the world had shaken and Sauron had been defeated. They cost was unknown, but for the first time since that terrible morning they brought Theodred home, she could breathe.

She could go home.

She’d have a home to return to.

She was terrified of what she’d be leaving behind.

“Sweetheart.”

It took a moment, for that softly murmured word to penetrate her tearful relief and her eyes snapped open, head twisting to find Klaus very carefully making his way towards her. His hair had been shorn to combat his fever, the shortened curls emphasizing the cut of his cheekbones and the fullness of his mouth. But it was the faint flicker of discomfort as he moved with his cane that had her launching to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

He accepted her help with a surprising lack of complaint, but when she went to step away, his fingers tangled firmly with hers. “You seemed most determined not to come to me. Although I’ve been most assured by a few of the healers how attentive you were, Caroline.”

She could feel her face heating, knew her cheeks were red in embarrassment. “I’m not the idiot who was flung from his horse and stabbed!”

“The olephants were a surprise, love,” Klaus said with a shrug. “I’m told I’ll be fine. But not by you.”

She couldn’t free herself but she’d no intention of sitting, either. Glaring at his too handsome face, Caroline compressed her lips. His mouth quirked, even as his gaze studied her with a calculating glitter she knew all too well.

“Imagine my surprise, when Lady Eowyn made a visit and asked me of your well being.”

Caroline sat then, free hand covering her face. “No.”

His thumb ran across her knuckles, the motion soothing. “Come now, sweetheart, our lady is hardly blind.”

She dropped her hand and stared at him. She felt off balance, discombobulated by that day’s news and now this. Klaus awake and moving, skin pressed closely against hers. Swallowing, she looked away. “I can hardly comment on my Lady’s opinions…”

Klaus snorted. “I’m far more concerned with your opinion. Why have you hidden yourself?”

“Your family needed you.”

“Perhaps I needed you.”

Carefully, she peered at him through her lashes, mouth running dry at the sincerity on his face, the burning behind his eyes. “They are your family.”

“Don’t let Bekah fool you,” Klaus said gently. “She’ll have the entirety of Gondor jumping to her bidding, should it suit her. My family has done well without me for years. Kol finds the yoke of responsibility uneasy, but he is crafty. Henrik is a solid young man, and his advice sound should Kol wish for it. They may wish for my presence now, but in the end, I’m a painful reminder of our parents’ choices.”

Catching her lip, she worried it between her teeth for a long moment. “You wish to return to Edoras?

“That depends upon you.”

Caroline went still, stared at him with wide eyes. He reached up, stroked his fingertips along the arch of her cheekbone, traced down to her jaw. His gaze lingered on her lips, and when his eyes returned to hers, they were filled with heat.

“I would make my home with you, Daughter of the House of Theoden, if you’d have me. In Gondor or Edoras, or among the wilds between. It does not matter. My heart has chosen you, and with you I will stay, if you’ll have me.”

Eyes scanning his face, she swallowed and slowly returned the grip he held on her hand. Looking at the face she’d dreamed of, these past months, worried over as he slept with fever, Caroline took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Klaus brought her hand to his mouth, and they sat the bench in near silence, for some time.


During the Fourth Age, Prince Faramir and The White Lady of Ithilien ruled at Emyn Arnen. Among their most trusted was a simple soldier from the Mark who’d stood at The Battle of the Hornburg, and fought alongside the Third Mark during the Battle of Pelennor fields. His wife, a daughter of the House of Theoden, was a respected healer whom worked closely with the Eleven settlement of Ithilien to better understand Eleven Medicine.