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#;;v: forth eorlingas!
eohere · 3 years
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Send a symbol for a touch - Accepting @daniwrit sent -  ❤️ gentle or loving touch (romantic or platonic!), such as face caressing, holding your muse, rubbing their back, petting their hair, hugging them tightly, etc
The creak of his riding gloves seemed to accurately empathise with Theodred’s manner and mood. The sharp dynamic stride and scowl he brought throughout the Golden Hall was all creaking tension, his scout captain jogging along beside him as he growled his frustrations. Marhred, to his credit, was trying not to laugh as Theodred related the absurd disagreements and conflicts he had to field between the Thanes and Reeves of the Eastemnet, just to defend the Wold.
But he is stalled, and surprisingly easily, by first soft footpads and then a hand grasping at his own. And he had to stop! He had to nod Marhred away and he had to crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet to meet a very insistent gaze.
“Yes, I am back,” he rasped at her in a tone still too sharp and hard for a child, despite years of trying to soften it. Éowyn was becoming practiced at a sarcastic expression unnervingly quickly, but her small hands found his face, little thumbs running over his still present frown and the tension in his jaw. And it wrung a short chuckle out of him, even as his eyes closed.
“Still trying to tame me, hm?” He chuffed, her arms winding around his neck, “Well, perhaps I will allow it this time.” And, with that, he scooped her into his arms and went to find her brother.
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lionsjustice · 5 years
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v: Forth Eorlingas! (LotR) is the tag for my Lord of the Rings verse for Tywin.
As you uh...might guess, he’s a Rohirrim lord.  Tywin was not quite twenty when his people fled to Helm’s Deep, and later came to Gondor’s aid.  Although he was young, he and his men came to their king’s call and followed him to what Tywin was sure would be their death.  After Theoden’s death, Tywin stayed in Gondor for a time, learning to read and write, before returning to his new king’s side.
Tywin highly approved of Eomer’s close friendship with Aragorn, and was occasionally tasked with running Edoras (and Rohan as a whole) for his friend and lord.  Which did not mean his own adventures were at an end...
Depending on who I’m doing this crossover with, Joanna died at Pelinor Fields before they could have children together, or gives Tywin his three children.  Depends heavily on who I’m playing with, the default assumption is her death at Pelinor Fields, however.
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nerddface-has-moved · 7 years
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Well, then. (1/2)
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Characters: Haldir of Lorien, female!reader
Warnings: Mentions(ish) of blood 
Word Count: 1139
Notes: I’m still bad at transitions. Part 1 of 2 (You’re here! , Part 2 ). 
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She remembered the ominous warning from that strange woman on the subway like it was yesterday. Since she’d been here, she thought it may be more like a couple months, but for all she knew, this could all be an elaborate fever dream, and it had really only been a couple hours.
“You will need to make a choice.”
Well, then. Was this the choice? It sure seemed important enough.
Well... At least it’s an easy one.
With Haldir’s life within seconds of ending, she made her decision. Breaking into the strongest run of her life, she barreled into the wounded elf, effectively knocking the wind from him, but causing the massive axe of the Uruk-hai behind him to strike nothing but wet stone. Before she could even be flustered that she had made such intense bodily contact with her (massive) crush, she leapt up and turned to shield his body with hers.
The blades at her sides sang as they met the air, and she blinked in the torrential rain,
“You will not take him.” Her head shook slowly as she said it, voice calm, but steady, determined, vicious.
The creature snarled and spit at her, but she held her ground. She swung the weapons, letting the light catch them, set on protecting the elf on the ground behind her with her dying breath. Hearing his cough and the shifting of his armor as he struggled up to his elbows allowed her the relief to take a step forward and face the creature. It lunged at her, but its weight proved to be its weakness, and she got past its swinging axe. She wasn’t quite quick enough to find a chink in its armor before it turned around and hacked at her again. Her foot slipped on the wet stone, and her breath was momentarily ripped from her chest.
“Y/N!” It was Aragorn. She sneered with effort as she rolled out of the way and back to her feet, and feinted again when it swung its weapon in a wide arc, this time catching its mistake- and its neck- with her blades. She stepped back to let it fall to the ground, dead. She almost lashed out when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Haldir, waterlogged and clutching the wound on his chest, but alive. His eyes begged a hundred silent questions, lips parted but silent. She grit her teeth, still trying to catch her breath.
“I could not let you die,” she admitted over the sound of battle.
Aragorn called her name again and she turned, watching him make his way to the keep, waving an arm to her.
“Come,” she beckoned, and slung one of Haldir’s arms over her shoulders, sheathing one sword. He did little to protest, and held his other hand over the wound on his sternum. She tried to move them quickly, hoping the shake with each swing of her weapon didn't jar him too much.
One ill-timed strike let a blade through her defense and thankfully she turned just soon enough to catch the metal with her own shoulder instead of the side of Haldir’s neck. The elf’s dagger flashed out to kill the assailant, and Y/N grit her teeth, grunted, and carried on.
They only paused for a moment at the gate when the Marchwarden slung over her side lost his knees and fell forward. Y/N’s shoulder popped as she supported his weight, and she swallowed a cry of pain as her wound tore a little further with the stress.
In a moment, Aragorn was at her side, hauling the elf to stand, and he met Y/N’s eyes for a moment.
“Got him,” she beamed.
~
Y/N and Aragorn ushered the elf to a chair near the back, snatching a tablecloth up on the way there, where he promptly began to protest.
“We must defend the keep!”
Without looking at him, she searched for the straps on his pauldron. Aragorn vanished in the crowd behind them.“You're injured. Stay down. You can't help anyone if you're dead. This war isn't over yet.”
“It’s nothing; I cannot leave my men!” Haldir exclaimed, shifting out of her grip.
“Stay down,” she commanded, pressing a palm to his chest to halt him. “I promise you, we will win. If you go back out there, I cannot promise that you will survive. Trust me. Please.”
She seemed so phenomenally genuine that he stopped, aphonic. Aragorn and Théoden argued behind her as the men barricaded the pounding door, but she paid no attention. She knelt before Haldir, and her fingers worked quickly to loose the armor around his chest and pull it over his head, draping his sopping coat over another chair. She brushed his drenched hair over his opposite shoulder with incredible care, pulling a lock plastered to the side of his face free slowly. She caught his gaze for a split second before coming to her senses and focusing intensely on his chest.
There was shouting, now, and as she was tearing the cloth to bind Haldir’s wound, Aragorn came up behind her. Haldir looked up at him, which she noticed, and turned her head briefly to face her friend. She pulled Haldir’s shoulder forward slightly to make him sit up, and reached under his arms with the cloth.
“We ride out with Théoden. Will you be safe here?”
Y/N responded quickly, wrapping the cloth again and tugging it tight, trying to ignore the intense pain in her shoulder. “No. But I will make it safe.”
The dύnedâin nodded to the both of them and rushed off. 
Haldir’s soft voice made her pause for a moment. “You are bleeding.”
Y/N blinked, hoping the way her head spun was from nerves and not blood loss, pulled the makeshift bandage one more time around Haldir’s broad chest and tore it further, tying it off. “I’ll be fine.” She looked back as the crashing of the gates stole her attention. The horn of the keep blasted.
“Forth Eorlingas!” Théoden shouted, and the group charged, ratting Y/N’s knees. Clashing armor flashed in the bright light of the beginning day, and she breathed in relief. Tears blurred her vision, of both happiness and pain, and she hoped that the sweat and rain on her face would disguise them.
“The Rohirrim.”
Sure enough, not a moment later, from outside came a thundering that could only be the thousands of horsemen coming over the hill. They had won.
~
Soon after, the Elves came to sweep up Haldir. She let them have him without a word, silently fading into the crowd of joyous women rushing out to embrace the battle-weary men. It was time she got her wound tended to, and she had to find the rest of the Fellowship.
~
to be continued...
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eohere · 5 years
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@eadrg || Starter Call
“Still your fidgeting, colt.” Theodred’s mutter was only just audible, most of his focus on the shaving blade he dragged with expert care over Eomer’s jaw. He flicked the excess oil off it’s tang and put it between his teeth so he could tilt Eomer’s chin and examine his work. “Hmph, scruff at fourteen winters...” he mused, though it was muffled until he took the blade back in hand to resume his work, “Grimbold will win that wager of his. A full beard by next year’s summer.”
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eohere · 5 years
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