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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 9 months

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Potentially silly question regarding Grima: You've discussed before the idea of him loving to have pineapples around as a status symbol on account of them being something weird and exotic that no one else has, but if given the chance to not just have them kicking around for symbolic purposes and actually be served to him, do you think Grima would taste them, and if so, if he'd like it or not? And what other foods (fruit or otherwise) do you think might he consider a status symbol?

I live for silly Grima questions!

And Grima would love pineapple! it's so sweet, he'd be gung-ho for it. He would be that person who would receive one and then be grieved over whether or not he wished to put it on his table or eat it. Like receiving a work of art as a rug - do you hang it on the wall or put it on the floor and use it as it was meant to be used?

In this world with the anachronistic pineapple, I think initially Grima would never eat them. He would keep them until they weren't aesthetic anymore then they'd be fed to the goats or pigs or chickens.

However, once he had been in a decently powerful/wealthy position for long enough I think he'd take a pineapple and try and figure out how to eat it.

There would be a debate: can you eat a pineapple?

Eomer says no - they're prickly on the outside, sharp, pointy, clearly a sign they're poisonous and not to be eaten.

Grima says yes - there are prickly pointy sharp plants that are perfectly edible. It's a matter of knowing how to do it.

Eowyn has no opinion on the matter, but she holds that Grima should be the one who tries it first.

Theodred is just confused about why this matters. They have perfectly good, delightful food. There's no need to try and eat the table decorations.

Grima: but what if they taste good? Who knows. It could be fun for us.

Being a reasonably intelligent man, Grima makes his least favourite person eat a bit of the pineapple first then they all wait and see if he dies. When it's determined that he will live, Grima tries some and is like 'it's terrible. None of you should have any. I'll take care of it, don't worry.' And hoards the pineapple like the wee dragon wyrm he is.

Figuring out how to access the inner flesh of the fruit involved Grima carefully cutting small bits off then they were like 'ah, the outer layer isn't that thick so this is easy'. They were also all mightily pleased that there was no stone inside which means more pineapple to eat.

Figuring out how to propagate a pineapple would be a past-time Grima would undertake and if he managed to successfully figure it out he would be like, 'they are absolute freaks of a plant. I love them even more. Eomer, build me a greenhouse.'

---

Other status symbol foods for Grima?

Certain herbs and spices would be: cinnamon, vanilla, saffron, cardamom, lemongrass, sumac, caraway, nutmeg etc.

Citrus in general - I don't see Rohan doing orangeries or anything, that would be a Gondor-style invention. So all citrus is imported which makes it rare and expensive.

Grima trying to convince Eomer to build an orangerie is now my new favourite mental image.

Grima: we could have oranges in winter, my lord! just. think about it.

Eomer is like, 'you really took on the decadent living full force, didn't you?'

'I was born on a farm in the north, my lord. I grew up living off turnips and seasonal produce that can grow in cold climes and whatever we foraged. Not that we ever foraged or poached on the local lord's land. Never.'

Anachronistic tomatoes! Certain tree nuts would be strictly imports and so therefore a delicacy (e.g., almonds).

I don't know if Rohan did class based consumption (only royalty can eat certain meats etc.), but if they did - whatever was determined to be for nobility alone would be something he'd put great stock in now having access to.

Man, this guy's diet really improved when he joined the king's household.

Grima: I ate a lot of pottage. Bread soup. Meat but more so in the autumn when we slaughtered the animals that were right for it. Turnips. Carrots. Roots for days. Cabbage. Ruffage of that sort. Berries if they were in season. Apples, when they were in season. Fish from the river sometimes. Cheese. Most everything was salted, pickled or fermented.

Eomer: I see.

Grima: but now I can eat fruit whenever I want! also we have meat with every meal and it's fresh meat, too. Not to mention wine. Also food is spiced so fancy here. Look at this ginger. This would cost five of my father's sheep. I never new cardamom existed until I came to Edoras. You even colour your jellies random colours solely because it amuses you to have them coloured! Wild.

Eomer:

Eomer: you know, I get it.

Grima: and you have white flour! Wheat! It's not rye or barley - amazing. And white ale! ugh, the lap of luxury, my lord. I will never grow tired of it. Oh, and fancy tea that I've never had before arriving in Edoras.

Other things would be jellies and custards - anything that is time and labour intensive would be a status symbol. Figs, dates - dried fruits that had to be imported would cost a pretty penny and be for the wealthy alone. Not to mention grapes and olives. Peacock and other more fanciful poultry, of course. Like the feasts would be certainly something.

I sometimes imagine, like, twenty-two year old Grima arriving in Edoras and getting absorbed into the king's household because he's one of the few fully literate people in the city and seeing a royal feast up close for the first time.

Mind blowing.

Grima: how do I eat this?

Theoden: it's an orange. Have you never had an orange before?

Grima is like, Do you think I've had an orange before?

Theoden:

Theoden: fair point.

Grima has more than one shirt in his possession and thinks he's basically a lord, now.

---

Things to also consider is if there were any social constraints to when you ate certain food - such as religious festivals. Was fasting during a certain period part of Rohan's culture? Were there restrictions or taboos around grouping certain foods together? Did those restrictions apply to everyone equally or only certain groups? Was there a gendered aspect to food consumption and access?

E.g., in early medieval Scandinavia (think vikings), boys were favoured and so in lean/starvation times they were given the good food and the daughters were not. We can see in skeletal remains that within the same generation women were more likely to have suffered a starvation level of hunger at a greater percentage to men.

So, like, in Rohan if there was a lean time during his childhood was Grima fed more in comparison to his sister(s)? How does that impact someone's relationship to family? to food? etc.

Also what was the meal structure like? Did they do two meals, as was common through much of the medieval era in Europe (broad brush stroke, of course, regional variations existed and things shifted over time. E.g., Venice did dinner and supper but there was a secret, third meal between the two that was like a sort-of tea/snack break)? I suspect at a minimum it was three in Rohan since we know Gandalf et al arrived in Meduseld in the morning and Grima makes reference to Theoden's meat (i.e., his meal) being at the board. So, likely breakfast of some variation.

However, Theoden was old and infirm and that might mean he was eating different meals than he would be otherwise. How illness and age are treated in terms of food consumption is another impact to what you eat and when. (Allen Grieco was a historian who wrote a good amount about this - granted he was more in the early modern period, but his writing on food in early modern/renaissance Italy is super fascinating. Recommend Food, Social Politics and the Order of Nature in Renaissance Italy as a good starting point.)

(granted, anything from Harvard Press' "Villa I Tatti" series is worth reading if you're into the early modern and renaissance period.)

---

Ok I've gone on for too long. I just. fucking love thinking about food habits and rituals and all the weird little things that impact how and what we (or Grima) eat! It's so cool!

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3

#grima wormtongue #grima thoughts #lotr #lord of the rings #food #world building #ask #reply #anon #Rohan

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dalleyan · 1 year

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Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR stories, Adventures of Theodred, Son of Eomer, ch 7 posted, 5-17-23)

Theodred's adventures as he travels with Freahelm, trying to find a direction for his life. (Adventure, Drama, Angst, Romance, Family, Humor) (19 chapter story)

Chapter 7 - (begins late April, 44 IV)

The two men leaned back in their saddles, one hand on their horses’ rumps in an attempt to see the top of Orthanc, but it was a cloudy day, and the pinnacle was obscured from their view. At length, Freahelm straightened and shook his head, commenting, “You know, I have the utmost respect for Gondorians…”

He paused and Theodred’s eyes narrowed. “Yes?” he prompted.

“But the man who built this must have been utterly mad! Who in their right mind could think such a building was worth constructing? It is imposing, to be sure, but…useless. The view from the top might be magnificent, but things on the ground must appear the size of ants from up there. And, for that matter, who would want to make that climb on a regular basis? Perhaps if a man had wings he would attempt it, but I doubt I would often go more than five floors up! Useless, I tell you! Utterly useless!”

Theodred grinned at the diatribe. It was not the first time he had heard such an opinion expressed of this place. His father had long held that view, and indicated he was happy to let Gondor retain possession of the place as he could see no practical value to it. Indeed, as Saruman’s stronghold, it had been a festering sore in Rohan’s side for far too long, and Theodred suspected Eomer would not have been sorry to see it completely destroyed when Treebeard and the Ents took control of Isengard. Now it was little more than an interesting landmark for any who cared to venture this far off the beaten path.

In all his years living in Rohan, Theodred had never taken the opportunity to make the journey to see the place. He had decided now was the appropriate time, and he thought it worthwhile to glimpse it at least once, since it had played such an important role in Rohan’s history. Tonight he would have much to write in his journal.

Treebeard had long since returned to Fangorn Forest, and Theodred regretted not having had the opportunity to meet him. The Hobbits had spoken much of him on their last visit, when he was a child, and he had always hoped to have that chance himself. There was something magical in the notion of an actual treeherder, who appeared to be a tree himself almost.

“Well, shall we go inside and have a look around?” Freahelm’s voice broke through his reverie. Eagerly Theodred nodded and they rode closer.

The lake surrounding Orthanc had receded somewhat over the years, but the water still reached their stirrups, so they drew as close to the entrance as they could. Had the doorway been larger, they would have ridden inside to dismount, but there was not enough room for their horses, so they slipped into the water and waded in.

Theodred knew that while Treebeard had been in residence at Isengard, few had dared visit, being almost as afraid of an Ent as they were of Saruman. Once the treeherder had taken his leave, the place fell victim to looters who were eager to pilfer anything they could use or sell.

Most of the rooms now stood empty but for a few scraps of destroyed furniture. The two winced inwardly at the sight of iron rings affixed to the floor or walls of various rooms, clear evidence that they had once housed prisoners of some sort. They preferred not to dwell long on that subject.

It took some doing, but Theodred was able to persuade Freahelm to climb all the way to the top, so they could at least get the full experience, and say they had done so. A few drifting breaks in the cloud cover gave them glimpses around them. As Freahelm predicted, their horses were almost indiscernible pinpricks on the ground from that great height. Though not usually affected by extreme heights, both of them were unnerved here, and they did not linger. Still, the views they got of the surrounding country were incomparable. Skeletons of destroyed machinery still lay hidden under the lake, and Theodred studied the sight with a practiced eye, committing it to memory so he could later transfer the image to his journal pages.

At length, they had seen enough, and decided to be on their way before the afternoon was too far gone. They hoped to reach the Fords of Isen before nightfall and make camp there.

continue reading on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46771651/chapters/119042485

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Lord of the Rings #Elfwine Chronicles #LOTR #Theodred son of Eomer #Freahelm son of Eothain #original characters

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ao3feed-tolkien · 1 year

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FFAU: The War of the Ring

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8DyTbgc

by MelhekhelMurkun

In the peaceful Shire, an innocent-looking ring has passed from uncle to nephew, sparking the beginning of a war to end all wars.

In Rohan, a bewitched King sits upon the throne of a once-powerful kingdom that is now dwindling due to constant assault on the southern borders.

In Gondor, a delicate political situation hangs balanced on a blade. Who is in power? Whose side are they on? Why does no news come from the southern kingdom?

In Rivendell, a man with a complicated legacy attempts to protect his adopted sons from the violent war heading their way. There are no rules in a war with Orcs - anyone is fair game…

War will make corpses of them all.

Words: 1327, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Fears Fade Away

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Aragorn | Estel, Arwen Undómiel, Faramir (Son of Denethor II), Boromir (Son of Denethor II), Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli (Son of Glóin), The Hobbits™, Pippin Took, Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck, Frodo Baggins, Théodred (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Galadriel | Artanis, Gandalf | Mithrandir, Haldir of Lothlórien

Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Faramir (Son of Denethor II)/Haldir of Lothlórien

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, But also, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boromir Lives, Theodred does not, unfortunately, Boromir and Faramir are Aragorn’s adoptive sons, Parent Aragorn, Soulmates, I’ll get into it later on in this work, i mentioned it in Fears Fade Away but not in depth, this will have more of an explanation and examples as well, I buried canon beneath my front porch, theres no finding it now, ITS GONE, idk what else to tag this with, Oh, Canonical Character Death, it’s Theodred guys, And I don’t go into his character much so it’s not like, super upsetting when he dies, unless he’s a favorite of yours iguess, but I also don’t get graphic with it, basically Theo took Boromir’s place at Amon Hen, Thus ensuring Boromir lives, :)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8DyTbgc

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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Here is a forever updating list of ‘fun’ arguments that Boromir and Theodred manage to keep hashing out for the entire 30 years of their acquaintance, many of which well predate them being in a romantic relationship;

- Where does a dagger go? Boromir, as a man who semi-regularly has to go to sea and engage in sea-warfare, keeps a dirk strapped to his chest so that if he is tangled in rope as his ship is sinking he can easily reach it and cut himself free. Theodred says this is pirate behaviour and completely unnecessary (if not downright absurd) all the rest of the time one is not on a ship. Which is a lot, he points out. Boromir casually holds daggers between his teeth at times just to irritate him.

- Lacing boots Gondor and Rohan already have widely varying makes for boots, including materials used to make them, but the pair still manage to find specific preferred ways of lacing, belting or binding their boots that they will fight to the death about.

- Sweet bread vs cake One of the cultural imports from Rohan into Gondor were heavy sweetened breads of various types. These were called sweet breads in Gondor. Theodred says they’re all cakes. Boromir can’t stand it.

- to write or not to write Now, this is an interesting one. Gondor is an incredibly literary country, every child is literate. Rohan, almost stubbornly, has refrained from even creating a writing system for their language and is entirely illiterate. Boromir and Theodred prefer the other’s way. Boromir will reminisce on how he’d bloody well prefer everyone just memorised things. Theodred will grind his teeth as everyday he prays he could just write one person a note.

- are swan knights bad riders? discuss Theodred is absolutely scornful of Gondor’s horsemanship and, specifically, the Swan Knights. Boromir consistently has to fight for the idea that the Swan Knights aren’t MEAN’T to be movable, its an entirely different kind of cavalry. Theodred remains frustratingly unconvinced.

- Is it good or bad to be named after someone? Boromir insists he likes the practice of naming children after their forebears or important people from history. Theodred, a man from a culture that seemingly never reuses names on purpose, thinks that’s absolutely bananas. Everytime they’re shot at he tells Boromir to be careful of that wasting disease. This dark humour makes everyone who gets it cringe, except Boromir, who’s very annoyed about how funny it is.

- Your country is a baby ‘my country is 500 years old’ a toddler. Boromir will call Rohan a child nation sometimes but only to annoy Theodred. ‘Barely out of the cradle’ he’ll say. And if Theodred tries to argue all Boromir has to bring up is Gondor’s 3000 years of existence. Theodred will complain about the Thanes being particularly intractable or querulous and Boromir will say something to the effect of ‘Time for Rohan’s nap then’ and he’ll get hit.

- Was Numenor real? Are you sure? This is not genuine but at some point Theodred discovered that there are small but loud sections of Gondor society that believe Numenor didn’t exist and was a fabrication. Since learning this he has decided to pretend he believes them literally just to drive Boromir completely up the wall, mainly because he’s being forced to take FARAMIR’S side in something. Mortifying.

#borodred #boromir #theodred #tolkien #lotr #erran vs tolkien #text post #:3333

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abrazimir · 3 years

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- Your country is a baby 'my country is 500 years old' a toddler. Boromir will call Rohan a child nation sometimes but only to annoy Theodred. ‘Barely out of the cradle’ he’ll say. Theodred will complain about the Thanes being particularly intractable or querulous and Boromir will say something to the effect of ‘Time for Rohan’s nap then’ and he’ll get hit.

#;;boromircanon #;;ship: and even though this life this love is brief I've got him to carry me #about:theodred

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somanylivestochoose · 3 years

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Healing Loss

Chapter 2: Midnight Greetings

Eomer

My head spun, my heart was heavy, my neck ached from the stitch that healer put in and my shoulder’s felt as if the weight of the new age was upon them.

Well I suppose Rohan actually is on my shoulders.

What I have to focus on is that we had won. Somehow despite the odds, we had rallied and won.

Any time I felt the pain of my countrymen I needed to remember we have beaten Sauron and now we are free from his torment. Free to live without fear, to live with hope, to have a life back. But still I felt none of that. The battle had taken many lives of my countrymen and of my uncle, the king of Rohan. Before that Theodred, my cousin who was like a brother to me.

And now I am king.

“Éomer!” A man shouted making turn seeing Erchirion, one of the Princes of Dol Amroth. “My friend, what are you doing here?”

Clasping his forearm, I smile at him. “Seeing my sister.”

A sad smile crossed his face. “How is she?”

Letting go of his arm I sighed. “Better, she seems to be safe in the land of the living and away from despair. I can’t stay and chat I must get down to the field encampment, afraid I might fall asleep on my feet.”

He shook his head wrapping his arm around my shoulder leading us away from the house. “Come you shall stay with my family.”

Shaking my head, I sighed and broke from his grasp. “I appreciate the offer but my camp outside Gondor is fine.”

Erchirion rolled his eyes. “It will save you a lot of time coming to and from, we have extra space. My sister is never around so you can have her bedroom.”

“I don’t want to impose.” I started but the thought of having a real bed was tempting, my body ached from the battles and it may fall from exhaustion.

He put his hand on my shoulder. Since meeting Erchirion and his family from Dol Amroth I have already considered them great friends. “It is not, my friend. Come, you deserve some peace and sleep.”

Too tired to disagree I nodded and followed my new friend out of the House of Healing, heading to his family’s quarters.

Arriving, we found another Dol Amroth prince called Amrothos at a table eating half asleep. You would think that after a major battle and victory against our long time enemy that we would all be celebrating. But right now, we were too tired to stay awake.

“Éomer! What do we owe this honor?” Amrothos said getting up, our forearms clasping in greeting.

Erchirion grabbed a plate of food and passed me one. “Gave him Lothíriel’s room so he didn’t have to go back down to the field camp; she won’t be back for some time.”

Amrothos nodded. “Smart.”

“I don’t want to put her out.” I said barely awake now. “I can make it back down, I’m sure my men will be wondering where I am.”

They both waved their hand, Erchirion clasped my shoulder. “You won’t, she’s healer at the house and has been there non-stop. I spoke to her before I saw you and she doubted when she would have time to come back. Stop fighting me my friend and go to bed.”

Amrothos nodded along. “We can send a message down to the camp, let them know you will be here for the night.”

Sighing I relented, a bed now would be a great thing. “Then I accept your hospitalities as long as you’re sure your sister will not be back.”

The brothers looked to each other and chuckled, Amrothos sat back down and took a sip of his drink. “Lothí is a head surgeon at the house and is serious with her duty. If she says she won’t be back, she won’t be back.”

I nodded, my eyes fighting to stay open. “I will be sure to thank her for her duty and her bed when I see her.”

“Come, let me show you to her room before you fall asleep standing.” Erichion motioned his head and I followed his to an empty room that must belong to the Princess. “Help yourself and let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, friend.” With that he left and I started eating from the plate while also taking off my armor. I was covered in dirt and dried blood but a bath would have to wait till tomorrow.

The second I hit the bed I let out a sigh of relief, my body relaxing for slumber. But even though my body wanted to sleep my mind was wide awake.

King.

I will be king.

When Theodred died I knew that would be my fate, but I never thought Théoden would die before I could be ready. I could hear the tutors I ignored telling me the ‘I told you, you should have stayed in study’.

I am not ready but I don’t have time to be anything but ready for kingship.

I’m the warrior, Theodred was the one ready for being king. And even when I become crowned king I won’t have time to stay at Ederas all the time, there are still orcs and wildmen running across the westfold.

Eowyn has told me about Faramir who seems like a good man so that leaves out her staying and help ruling the country. I know if I asked she would stay, but I won’t deny her happiness.

It seemed I don’t have the time to grieve, I have to keep moving, to keep fighting to ensure the future of Rohan.

And that means one thing.

I need a wife.

I groaned at the necessary thought.

But I couldn’t take anyone as my wife, there is work to be done right away in Rohan so I need a woman who is ready for that responsibility. I know the counsel is going to be have that be their main topic of discussion. Who in Rohan is the perfect soon to be queen?

All of a sudden, the door opened, my body too tired to sit up to ask ‘what is it’.

Bang. The sound made my eyes snap open and look to see who entered.

“By the valor.” Someone cussed when their foot came in contact with a trunk.

They had a candle giving them light as they walked to other side of the room placing it on the window. Turning my head slowly, I blinked my eyes awake allowing me to look the newcomer over.

The silhouette and dress told me that the sister who is supposed to be at the House of Healing has come home.

Forcing myself to sit up I thought that I will be needing to go down to the fields tonight after all. “You must be the Princess of Dol Amroth.”

She let out of scream, her hand taking out a dagger from her belt. “Make one move, and you’ll be missing a part of you.”

The door flung open showing Erchirion who had a sword in his hand. “What’s going on? Lothí, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” She asked in a short tone to her brother. “You do know this is my room therefore the question should be to the random Rohirrim in my bedroom?”

The dagger spun around in her hand then slid back into her belt.

Erchirion took in a tired breath. “Sister I thought you said you wouldn’t be here so I gave your bed away.”

“Thanks.” The woman sighed and rolled her neck.

“Well, you said you weren’t coming back and he needed a bed.” He muttered walking over to her.

She tilted her head and looked between us. “And he didn’t want to go stay with the other Rohirrim?”

Erchirion sighed. “Well it would be cruel to make our new friend walk all the way out of the city to their encampment.”

The Princess chuckled. “Or he could stay at the east wing, where his king and other men have been given quarters.”

Erchirion and I looked at each other than back to her. “What?”

She bent down grabbing something and placed it in a bag. “King Elessar gave the Rohan king and his men chambers in the east wing. He doesn’t have to go down to the encampment, only the east wing of the Citadel.”

Erchirion looked to me. “How did you not know that?”

I gave a tired shrug. “I vaguely remember someone coming up to tell me about sleeping chambers but I tuned them out when I was trying to get to my sister. I will leave you to your room and head over there. ”

The Prince turned back to his sister. “How do you know that and I didn’t?”

The Princess chuckled, even in the candle lit room I could see a small smirk on her face. “Brother mine, I am the Princess of Dol Amroth. I have lived here for years, I know everything that goes on even when I am elbow deep in surgery at the House of Healing.”

The Princess put her hand up stopping my movements. “And don’t even considered it. Your already comfortable, there would be no point sending you to the Citadel at this time of night.”

“What are you doing back anyway? Everything okay at the House?” The Prince responded wiping some blood of her cheek.

“Oh, Gylious kicked me out.” The princess responded with a small shrug. “Something about my stiches being crooked and that means I need sleep.”

Erchirion chuckled. “Good but I am sorry I gave away your room. Oh, forgive me I completely forgot, Lothíriel this is my friend-.”

Her hand went up cutting him off, the other hand rubbing her forehead with a groan. “Honestly I am too tired to care. My apologies Rohirrim, I shall just grab a few things and leave you to your sleep.”

She picked up a bag as I forced myself to stand up, my body protesting with its tired and sore muscles. “My lady you may have your bed, I won’t kick you out.”

“No need my lord, there’s a couch I can fit on downstairs, it has been a while since I have fresh air so I won’t mind at all. Sleep well Rohirrim.” With that she disappeared leaving Erchirion grimacing.

Erchirion lightly chuckled and turned to me. “Of course, the one night I plan on her not being here she is, which in my defense she said she wasn’t coming back tonight. Sorry my friend, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “If it’s anyone’s fault its mine, I should have known I had chambers at the Citadel.”

The Prince of Dol Amroth shrugged. “We are all exhausted. That’s a tomorrow idea. Night my friend.”

Waving him off I gave a small chuckle. “Night.”

With his departure and closure of the room’s door, I dropped back on the bed. With my back on the mattress I stared up into the dark ceiling. I willed for sleep to come, needed it for my body and to have a moment of peace.

The list of jobs I need to do began to fill through my mind. A never-ending list, one that started a simple note in the head now turned into a town crier screaming of farming, rebuilding homes, mating horses and so on.

All of those screams of things to do stopped all of a sudden when I remembered the Princess who was here earlier. If I had had any sleep this week I would remember where I know her from. There was something about her voice that pulls at my memory.

The image of the healer who stitched up my neck came to mind. The one who decided she wouldn’t let me walk past with a bloody rag around my neck and pushed me onto the bench. Erchirion said his sister works at the House of Healing, could that really have been the Princess of Dol Amroth? The Swan of Dol Amroth, someone whose beauty, diplomacy and charm is spoken about even in Rohan. Could she really be bossy, ordering men about and stich men up in hallways?

Well, she did wave off an introduction with me. I suppose tomorrow I’ll get my answer when I see her for breakfast tomorrow, if she is still around.

With that thought, I finally drifted off to sleep.

#eomer x lothiriel #eomer #lothiriel #ethoriel #eomer of rohan

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ladyideal · 4 years

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Hope

Pairing: Daddy!Eomer x reader

Word Count: 1652

Warnings: mention of small injury, fluff

Summary: Requested by @asraime. just Eomer and his daughter spending time together and getting into slight mischief.

A/N: Okay, I know I lied that Bones will be up today, but I wanted to write for another Karl Urban character. he does them all sooo well, and Eomer is one of my favorites from him.

If anyone could call Eomer, they would realize he had many titles. He was a nephew, a cousin, a lord of the mark, the third marshal, a king, a husband, and lastly, a father. He was a father to not just one, but two.

A son.

And a daughter to spoil.

Life as a princess of Rohan was fun, bright, but absolutely still recovering from the war. There was still lingering evidence of families struggling to keep themselves afloat. It had only made both your parents, especially your father, busier than normal.

This time, he had friends, not enemies.

Peace, not war.

So it only came as a shock, when your brother, Elfwine, confided to you in secret, that he was not interested in the throne. Swords and shields, bows and arrows, were the way of the land, and that's how he would rather rule, instead of on a throne.

You swore you would never tell.

Eventually, your brother announced his thoughts a few weeks later, over dinner, leading to a many very heated arguments that had you eventually excused yourself from. Sure, you had gone with your father whenever he took diplomatic trips, but it was never in your future to be the crowned heir. You were just curious of Gondor, and the hobbits at the Shire.

Till now.

Another year went by before Eomer agreed to the changes. His firstborn abdicated, and would take on the title of the next Marshal, while the younger of his kids would become the next ruling Queen.

Which meant only one thing: More work and lessons.

You were expected to attend meetings, attend diplomatic parties, attend the trips to various different parts of Rohan as the country returned to its former glory after the costly war. For the most part, you shouldered the weight of it all with a brave smile to the public, showing no evidence of the late night anxiety when you would cling to Eomer in shoulder wrecking sobs.

It was too much and not enough at times. There were times during the harder weeks that you wanted to ride your horse, Astra, out of Rohan and never look back. Yet there were times, all you wanted to do was to take on more projects, and exhaust yourself in the name of having your people live a better life.

You had tried it once. After a frustrating morning with the financial adviser, you had taken your horse out for a ride into the countryside, and away from all the commotion. There, you spent the rest of the day, on your own and with your thoughts. It was evening before you decided that it was time to head home.

It wasn't your mother's furious tone, nor the disappointment in her words as she berated you for being so reckless, that swayed you to be more careful in the future. What did convince you was the brief look of fear within Eomer's eyes you'd seen when you returned, and was your first time that you'd ever seen such a response from your Father.

It broke your heart into pieces when he pulled you into his arms, crying into your shoulder that he was sorry about putting everything onto your shoulder all at once. It should've been you that apologized, not him. You realized then, that it wasn't because you were crown or his heir, you were family and he'd lost many during his early years.

A knock came at your door.

You looked up from your notes, noticing that the sun was dipping below the horizon, sparkling the sky above with a prism of a breathtaking rainbow.

The door opened, revealing Eomer looking concerned for you.

"Hi dad," You greeted, brightening up as he crossed the threshold into your room. His eyes studied your barely concealed black circles, and an everlasting look of exhaustion that never seemed to fade away.

"Y/N," Eomer greeted, gently squeezing you in a brief hug. "Why don't we take our dinner out to our spot? The sunset is beautiful today."

Not wanting to let the chance fly by, you immediately agreed. Before long, your father was on Firefoot, and you on Astra with a picnic basket in hand. A couple guards came along, but fell behind in an effort to keep privacy between father and daughter.

It was supposedly a spot he'd found back when he was just the nephew to the late King Theoden, and a newly Third Marshal of the Rohirrim. His wife knew of the spot, but pretended to play ignorance on not knowing where the place was.

"Were you ever ready to become King?" You asked after settling down against a lone tree upon the hill. It overlooked Edoras, and the multitude of huts surrounding the hill fort that served as the center of power for Rohan. The view was breathtaking, and wonderfully scenic, and absolutely your spot to spend precious time with your dad.

"No. Uncle Theoden had Theodred to be first in line," Your dad spoke, taking out the items within the basket. "He was killed at the Fords of Isen though. Uncle never got to speak with his son before Theodred passed."

It was barely even considered history, given what had happened wasn't so long with the war of the ring. A good majority of the people had gone through the horrors of war, of blood, and of death. All capable men were to take up arms.

It was a grisly war, one that was still fully engraved in your father's mind for the rest of his life. For many people throughout the Middle Earth, the same sentiments could be felt throughout the land.

"Do you think it'll happen again?" You asked, starting on your light dinner. "Y'know the whole ring and everything?"

Eomer barked out a laugh. "We'll be ready if something like this happens again," He spoke, gazing down at the capital of Rohan. "Your old man's not ready to lay down his sword just yet. Even if something happens after my time has gone, I hope you and your brother will remember that, in times of need, you have friends to rely on in Gondor, at the Shire, and across Middle Earth. No matter what happens, hope is never lost."

"You think so?"

"I know so," He reached forward to gently squeeze the dimples that you had inherited from him.

"Dad!" You complained half heartedly, squealing out of his grasp. With a slight grin, he returned to the food in front.

"Did you sprain your wrist again?" He asked, after a moment of content silence. "How?"

You nodded slowly. "Fell off. Again."

Your father let out a labored sigh. "Don't let your mother hear of this later. We can stop by the healers, and get that wrapped up before it gets worse," he grumbled into his food. "Or I'll never hear the end from her."

You laughed, but sobered up immediately at his pointed glare. "Mom's going to find out sooner or later."

Eomer grumbled wordlessly, but continued eating what's left of the small dinner. As the sun went down below the horizon, your horses were untethered for the short ride back home.

"Can I tell you something dad?" You asked, hauling yourself back onto the saddle with practiced ease.

"Of course, my love. You can tell me anything," Your dad pulled Firefoot close to yours, eyeing you and raising his eyebrow in question. It wasn't until you were halfway back home till you spoke up again.

"What if I do something wrong? Or even say something wrong?" You asked, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. "I'm afraid of not getting things right."

"Y/N, listen to me," He spoke. "You might not get everything right, but what you stand up for, and what your intentions are, are worth much more than words alone. We are in the service of the Rohirrim, not them to us. It is because of them that we are here today."

"Were you scared when you became King?"

"Terrified," Your dad spoke, looking forward as the stables grew nearer. "I did what I thought was right, and listened to the people."

You lapsed into silence for the rest of the trip home, only grumbling in pain when you couldn't swing yourself down your horse and needed help. Once Eomer settled you down on your feet, he took your non injured hand in his.

"Let's get that wrapped up, shall we?"

After having the wrist prodded, checked, and wrapped, you departed from the healers with your father in tow with a sheepish grin.

"Do you think Mother will-?" You stopped short as you caught a familiar figure standing in front of the hallway towards your room. From behind, you heard your father audibly groan.

"So this is where my daughter and husband have disappeared to for the last few hours," Your mother spoke disapprovingly, arms still crossed against her chest with a rather upset look.

"Hi mom," You greeted quietly, slightly shrinking under her glare. If you didn't stop her at this pass, she would never be stopped.

"Why are you hiding your wrist, Y/N?" Her eyes narrowed at your half hiddened wrist. "Did you fall off your horse again? For Valar's sake, Eomer, when will you stop bringing her outside of safety and hurting our child? And when will you be more careful, Y/N? This isn't the first time anymore!"

"Mooooom," you whined.

"And where do you think you're sneaking off to, Eomer?" She snapped.

"My love, I've still-."

But even he as king, couldn't avoid the wrath of his wife and queen.

"Oh no you don't. You got her into this mess, now you're getting her out."

You and your father groaned, but with a nod, escorted you back to your room. Thankfully, you had a loving father and King ready to help you every step of the way.

Permanent Tags: @mournthewicked @asraime @mournthewicked (Taglist is open!)

#eomer!!!!!#so cute #love him #eomer x reader #lotr #tolkien #reader insert #deb writes

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thecloserkin · 4 years

Text

fell down an éomer/éowyn rabbithole, 100% @spookyshai’s fault, have a grab bag of recs

I rewatched The Two Towers and it’s clear to me Karl Urban has chemistry with everyone up to and including lampposts. Just a reminder everyone make sure you watch the extended cut not the theatrical cut, it’s worth it just for Éowyn’s face when she finds out Aragorn is 87 years old.

I am a slut for angst but even so these fics hurt me. The “darkest before the dawn” vibe is strong with this pairing, half the fic is them fucking before he rides off to patrol, and they’ve got that unhealthily-codepdenedent-orphan-children angle going for them too.

Care by Halrloprillalar (1k)— literally the platonic ideal of a bedsharing fic, @spookyshai calls the prose “disgustingly beautiful” and i could not agree more: “Éomer learned her body, intent upon each curve, as though he were a skald and Éowyn a verse that he was making.”

Hope by elceri (1.2k)—whatever you think of the one-sidedness of Éowyn’s attraction to Aragorn that chemistry was through the fucking roof (there was zero chemistry with Faramir). i loved how this fic drew on the parallels between Éowyn and Aragorn’s plights: they are both profoundly lonely people looking over the horizon for their beloved’s return (Éomer, Arwen—well Aragorn has mixed feelings about Arwen returning since it would mean she chose mortality but ykwim). Y’all know by now that the seamless progression of platonic affection to romantic attachment is my kryptonite, so this is the line that gutted me: “the soft kisses and caresses that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember and the heated lovemaking that had come with age. She could not fathom a life without him, for as long as she had known life, there had been him. Only him. Only Éomer.” And headcanoning Théodred as gay so he promised to marry Éowyn as a beard and then her and Éomer could continue as they were??? i swear my soul ascended on the spot

My Own by Rainchilde (2.7k, warning for noncon)—one of the most shippable aspects of their relationship has always been Grima Wormtongue lurking in the shadows, because you have on the one hand A STALKER and otoh the person whom she trusts and values most in the world. the contrast is plain. i’m all for scenarios where the stalker’s unwanted attentions drive the girl into her brother’s arms (see Dante’s Stars) but this fic actually examines what Éomer has in common with Grima, viz. he wants to make Éowyn his yet she is just as unattainable to him as to Grima

Made Bare by Dana (0.4k)—I am always here for horny swordplay: “He licks his lips, watching her, parted lips and parted legs, and the pounding of his heart is a dull roar in his ears.”

Steadfast by hesychasm (3.3k) — they get it on in the stables asdfdfkdjfdkf it’s extra sexy bc of their shared history, they’re children of Rohan they were practically born in the saddle and it’s just. so hot. This is the eve of her official engagement to Faramir and Éomer has left the banquet hall early for Reasons; we get nuggets of internal monologue from him like: “I judged the mare a good enough gift for my sister, though Gondor-bred.” The subtext being no man or beast in all of Gondor is good enough for Éowyn lmaooo. "Can I not love you both?” she protests, and he says, ”I do not believe even your heart is so great." Ouch ouch ouch. On the subject of her husband-to-be: “He knows already who is first in my heart."

Blood Remembers by musesfool (2.4k) — So many shared memories, moments, milestones! For instance, it’s she who comforts him after he has to give a comrade the mercy stroke. Losing their virginity to each other is such a logical extension & culmination of all that history: “’I dreamt you were dead,’ she whispered … She ran her fingers over the arch of his cheek, the bow of his lips, and followed her hand with her mouth … His hands touched her in places no man had ever touched before. His lips sought hers and the gentle good night kisses they'd shared over the years transmuted into something harder, darker, more urgent.” AND THEN: “The years have passed swiftly since that night, and no other man has yet stirred her blood to such passion. She believes none ever will, and is reconciled to a life alone.” KILL ME NOW GAHHH

Dirt and Gold by Empyreus (1k)—outsider POV Gríma, i’m pretty sure this fic was written specifically FOR ME jesus fucking christ so Éomer and Éowyn are lowkey banging and Gríma apparently lingers at keyholes to listen???: “‘You reek of him, of your brother the wild rider,’ he had wanted to say. "I can feel the sweat that surely slicked your skin.’” Also this: "Is there anything you will deny him? For all your ice, you too burn when the heat is too fierce. When your brother tells you to burn."

Hammer and Tongs by Halrloprillalar (1.6k) —she forges him a blade!!! which is only the most romantic gesture of all time. i’m LIVING for the amount of sneaking around that happens: “All know the Lady of Rohan has a great love for her brother …They do not know that she goes to him at night, walking the halls without a candle, carrying a posset for him, lest she need an excuse.”

In My Darkest Hour by elceri (3k)—Plottier than some of the pornier fics I’ve rounded up here but this conversation is EVERYTHING: “Éomer! The last thing Rohan needs at this time is a martyr!" "I would rather be a martyr than a hypocrite … It will not come to that, my sister, I promise you. My willingness to make the sacrifice does not mean I invite it, or would accept it willingly." "So said Theodred.” ”I am not Theodred." “Then why do you come to me? To prophesy your own death? I am not accustomed to such ominous words from you, brother." "I come to you for strength, Éowyn … Dark have been my days and nights, and dark will they be, and you have been my only light. If I am never to see you again, by that villain's hand, then I want to carry some of that light with me to whatever end may come."

Survivors by CanonIsRelative (1k)—omg they are having messy quickies in the stables??? Éomer and Éowyn have evidently been practicing the pull-out method of contraception up until this one time on the eve of battle and then they’re like fuck it. This is Éowyn’s Return to me victorious: “I await you, my lord, and a year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return. Come back with your helm upon your brow, or resting in state upon your breast.”

Swordplay by elceri (1k)—outsider POV, Théoden and Gríma watch the boys show Éowyn the ropes down in the practice yard: ”She has her brother's talent with the sword—see how quickly she learns!" "If your words are true, Sire, then when she is twenty you will have two strong-willed, hot-headed warriors in your house, aided and abetted by an older cousin who seems to think that life is indeed one long game!"

#desperately wish i could read german so i could devour this 63K FIC CHILLIN HERE IN THE TAG #eowyn x eomer #Eomer x Eowyn #fic rec #fic roundup

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theemightypen · 6 years

Note

"I know it hurts," either Borodred or Farawyn

ur the absolute worst oh my GOD

The rain is coming down in torrential waves, bitingly cold even through the layers of his armor and clothes. And this is considered Spring, in Rohan!

Mercifully, the battle has been over for a few hours. Less fortunate is the constant rain, which has made it difficult to determine who is slumped over from exhaustion and who is in more dire need of help. He may be the highest ranking Gondorian noble present, but he is their captain, and he will leave no man behind if he can help it.

“Captain Boromir!” A familiar voice calls.

“Grimbold,” he answers. “What news?”

The Rohirric commander is pale, worry etched plainly into the lines of his weathered face. “I know you have your own men to attend to, but our healer was gravely injured last week and we had to leave him behind in Snowbourne. There is–we need–”

“Peace, Grimbold,” Boromir interrupts. “We are allies, are we not? Gondor will not deny any man of Rohan aid if he needs it.”

“Thank Bema for that,” the older man says. “It is the Prince.”

The bitter cold of the rain abruptly pales in comparison at the ice that slides into his stomach.

Theodred!

But he is the Captain of the White Tower, Gondor’s greatest defender, his father’s pride. He cannot react any differently now than he would for any other ally.

“Istuiben!” Boromir calls.

The healer’s head emerges from a nearby tent. “My lord?”

“Prince Theodred has need of you,” he says, willing his voice to remain as commanding, as powerful, as even as usual. “Can you be spared?”

“For the Prince? Aye,” Istuiben answers.

It takes a few minutes, during which the rain slows, before he reappears, his kit in hand. Grimbold has been pacing nervously in the interim, which is doing nothing for Boromir’s nerves. As soon as Istuiben has joined them, they’re off, in the direction of Rohan’s encampment. Boromir’s poor page–just a lad, really, with no business being here at all–trails along after them.

“Thranor,” Boromir says, catching the boy’s shoulder as he tries to follow Grimbold and Istuiben into the tent. “Go back to my tent. Get yourself dry.”

“I will not leave you, my lord,” he says, stubbornly. “Lord Denethor told me not to.”

Boromir squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Curses his father’s damnable pride.

“I am not likely to be attacked in Prince Theodred’s tent,” he says gently.

As if to prove the opposite, there is a pained shout from inside. The boy’s eyes widen and he grips the pommel of his sword, as he can protect Boromir from the scene that awaits him within.

Poor lad, Boromir thinks, reminded painfully of Faramir and all of his kindness, no one can keep me from this.

“Go on, now,” he orders. “There are some things boys should not have to see. Not even very brave ones.”

He waits until Thranor has been met by one of his other guards before turning back to face the tent. He steels himself, just for a moment, before going inside. Surely even he is allowed a moment, just one, of weakness.

The sight that greets him is one he has seen before. Bloodied rags, the worried faces of soldiers and friends, a body in a bed.

It is not the same, a voice in his head whispers, it is not the same at all.

Of course it isn’t. How can it be, when it is Theodred who blinks up at him with pained eyes? Theodred, who he has never seen so pale. Theodred, who very well could be dying, out here in the muck, so far from home?

“Come to gloat?” Theodred asks, voice pinched with pain. “I am sure the mighty Boromir would never be so foolish as to get himself shot by a Uruk’s arrow.”

Worry is replaced with irritation. Of course he would try to tease, try to lessen the agony he must be in. For his men. For Boromir.

“The mighty Boromir is of half a mind to throttle the Crown Prince of the Mark for acting as if he is fine. I know it hurts,” Boromir growls. He turns his attention to Istuiben. “How bad?”

“Not the worst I have seen,” the healer confirms. “Though getting the arrow back out is only half the battle. There is a chance it could be poisoned, my lord.”

Panic flares, icy cold again, in Boromir’s gut. But Istuiben is no green youth. Theodred is in the best hands he possibly can be, at the moment.

“What do you require?”

“Boiled water, if we can get it. And men with strong stomachs. It’s likely I’ll have to cauterize the wound.”

From the corner of his eye, Boromir can see any remaining color drain from Theodred’s face. He has a powerful fear of fire–has since he was a child, and had witnessed an entire village burnt by Dunlendings–but there is no other option to staunch bleeding as quickly.

Grimbold barks something in Rohirric at the soldiers, who hurry out of the tent with purpose. Boromir drifts closer to where Theodred rests. His eyes are closed now, head leaned back against the pillows of his makeshift bed. The arrow protrudes from the front of his shoulder, conspicuous against the otherwise pale skin. They’d clearly had to cut his armor off of him. It had been a gift from his father, years ago now, and Boromir knows the loss must pain him.

Theodred’s eyes flutter open and he manages a half-hearted smile. “Don’t fret so, mðdleóf,” he says, words slurring with pain and weariness, “m’not so fragile as all that.”

Boromir can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck–Theodred would usually never be so careless as to call him beloved where someone might hear, but neither Grimbold nor Istuiben show any sign of having heard anything.

“Fragile, no,” he agrees, settling down on the available stool beside the cot, “foolish, yes. Valar, Theodred, what were you thinking?”

“Thought th’bastard was aimin’ at you and that flashy Gondorian armor of yours,” Theodred slurs. “Youd’ve done th’same.”

Boromir pinches the bridge of his nose, torn between a wave a damnably powerful fondness and extreme exasperation. “That ‘flashy Gondorian armor’ of mine would have protected me from that arrow, you idiot.”

Theodred grins. “Can’t have it doin’ m’job for me, Boromir.”

Elbereth, what is he supposed to say to that? He loses his opportunity, anyways, because the have returned, cauldrons of boiling water on hand. Istuiben approaches, looking cautious.

“Here, Prince,” he says, holding out a wooden spoon. “You may want this.”

Theodred grimaces, all earlier mirth forgotten, and bites down. The rest of the night is a blur for him, from what he says in the days after.

It is not so for Boromir. It may, in fact, be one of the longest nights of his life.

He jolts awake the next morning. Theodred’s hand is as tight in his now as it had been hours previously, when they’d had to seal the arrow-wound with the fire-hot piece of metal. The noise he’d made had been beyond pain, beyond shock. Boromir had wanted to storm out into the wilderness and find the Uruk who had done this, who had caused Theodred such pain–

But his hand had held him fast. As he suspects it always would.

Theodred’s face is mercifully slack with sleep, with none of last night’s pain or fear to be found. There are strands of grey, now, threaded through the dark blonde of his hair. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the bridge of his nose. Boromir knows his own face carries the same marks of the passage of time. They are neither of them the young, foolish boys that had met in Dol Amroth, all those years ago.

Theodred shifts in his sleep. Murmurs something familiar, something fond.

Time changes so many things, Boromir thinks, unable to keep himself from dragging his thumb over Theodred’s, and so little, all at once.

“We thought it best not to disturb you,” murmurs Istuiben, startling him out of his peaceful–and horribly ill-timed–show of affection. “No one wanted to risk your wrath by being the one to pry you from the Prince’s side.”

Boromir lifts his head to meet the older man’s knowing gaze. Shame spikes in his gut, followed by guilt, and swiftly after, anger. Elbereth, he is so tired of feeling this way, of hiding something that is so important to him, that feels so natural–

“Peace, Boromir,” Istuiben says, clearly reading his expression. “There’s not a man among us, Gondorian or Rohir, who would deny either of you your happiness. Nor would we deny you your privacy.”

His meaning is clear: that they have not been as secretive as Boromir has always thought, and that their men will not breathe a word of this. To anyone, but in particular not to either of their fathers. The gratitude he feels is nigh overwhelming, but–

“I–we cannot ask you to lie–”

Istuiben gives him a stern look. “You have not asked. We have chosen, all on our own, to protect you, as you have so often shielded us.”

“Istuiben–”

The older man sighs, though his expression softens into fondness. “For once in your life, Captain, let someone else be noble for once.”

“Here, here,” breathes Theodred, who was apparently not as asleep as he had appeared. “It’s a damned nuisance, always trying to live up to you being so self-sacrificing–”

“Says the man who got himself shot on my behalf,” Boromir grumbles. The tone rings false, as he is too relieved to see Theodred awake to properly feign irritation. “How do you feel?”

Theodred gives him a lopsided smile that, as ever, makes Boromir’s heart turnover in his chest. “With you beside me? Never better.”

(“He thought we didn’t know?” Grimbold asks, expression torn between disbelief and amusement. “Bema above, they are the most unsubtle–the most obvious–”

“Yes, well,” Istuiben chuckles. “I think it best if we do not tell them that, Commander.”)

#boromir x theodred #borodred #y'all i ship this highkey you don't even know #my writing #also Niamh u smell!!!!#prompt response

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nichestars · 6 years

Note

I'm so envious that you got to see the extended LotR in the cinema! I bet that was amazing. Prompt: Rohan if Theodred had survived. Thanks!

It was incredible! …as was this prompt, which I’m going to be thinking about for a long time.

Gandalf the White may draw the poison from the King’s mind, but it is Aragorn who draws the poison from the King’s son, and when Éomer arrives at Helm’s Deep later, he cannot say which he is the more grateful for. Theoden’s return is an unthought-of miracle: he had mourned his uncle long ago. Théodred–

He hardly had the time to mourn his cousin. Anger followed on the grief of his discovery at the river so quickly that Éomer cannot quite distinguish the events that have unfolded since then. He remembers the pleasure in Grima’s eyes, remembers the emptiness in his uncle’s; remembers the indecipherable scrawl on the edict, and the heel of the kingsguard in his ribs. He does not remember the ride from Edoras, or if Éowyn watched from the steps of the Golden Hall.

After the battle, Éomer kneels before his uncle, clasping a hand he never thought to bear sword or shield again. “Get up,” Theoden says, roughly. “Go and see your cousin.” Éomer dares to raise his eyes, and Theoden is smiling: not the terrible, cruel smile of Saruman’s sorcery and dark humor, but the smile that Éomer earned as a child, after winning a game of dice, or later, breaking his first gelding. His eyes burn, as if he might cry, but no tears fall.He stumbles as Theoden pulls him to his feet.

Théodred is left behind when they ride for Minas Tirith. Éomer leads his éored, though he does not dare to hope he may bring Théodred’s men back to him. Yet neither can he bear to think of what will happen if they fail, here on the Pelennor Fields; what evil will, uninhibited, make its way back to Edoras, to a prince too weak still to lift a sword.

Theoden falls and Éowyn goes cold in his arms, and Eomer weeps at last, but there is no relief.

When he returns from the Black Gate, the world has shifted. There is a King in Gondor, a man who has given back his cousin and his sister and – the elvish words are stilted on Éomer’s tongue, but he has heard them enough that even he can repeat them: Aragorn is a man who gives hope to men.

Yet it is not his place to take the Oath of Eorl. He watches instead as his cousin kneels, still pale, still shaking under the weight of his father’s armor, at the steps of the throne. Aragorn steadies him, a hand on his shoulder as Théodred repeats the words of the long-dead. Watching his cousin kiss Elessar’s hand, Éomer wonders– what oath is there, for a man who serves two kings?

#ficlet #my stuff #eomer #theodred #there are approximately 100k more words of this jumbled in my brain #eomer the king must return to rohan and his people...#but eomer the third marshal might remain in gondor #is theodred who makes a match with the princess of dol amroth?#so many questions

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 3 years

Note

so i am back on the grima train and i was reading through your posts (absolutely quality, for which i can only thank you !! 💓) and you mentioned in one about his use of magic that you have a Lot of Feelings about grima in relation to gender and plz i need to hear them!! (if you want to share? 👀)

LOTR: Grima & Gender

Oh man, so Grima and gender. My favourite topic. Other than Grima and magic - but they’re linked! So, that’s a bonus for us.

I want to thank you so much for asking this question. I have wanted to rant about this for Forever.

This became incredibly long, but the long and short of it is that Grima undermines social expectations of masculinity in Rohan through his disdain for martial achievements, his occupying a more private/passive role within the king’s household rather than the expected “masculine” public/active, his use of spells and potions being an “unmanly” and “cowardly” approach to problem solving, and his reliance on language and soft-power approaches to politics.

All of this works to position Grima within a more feminine role and character - at least within the context of Rohan’s hypermasculine performativity of manliness.

[It does allow us to read Grima as trans with greater ease in terms of fitting into the canon than the usual favourites, other than Eowyn. So, you know, do with that what you will. Eowyn and Grima both want to be queen. Let them be in charge! I’m going to get my ass bit for this.]

Grima’s gender performance needs to be quickly situated within the broader context of masculinity in Middle-Earth. Gondor’s ideal of masculinity is the gentler masculinity that everyone focuses on when they talk about men in middle earth being good models of what masculinity can look like. It’s a nurturing masculinity, it’s gentle, it’s healing-focused. Aragorn and others try and take the first off-ramp from violence or conflict whenever they can. There is no enjoyment in warfare or soldiering. It’s done because it’s necessary. Dick-swinging is limited to non-existent etc.

Rohan is different.

Faramir touches on this when he speaks to Frodo of how Boromir was more like the men of Rohan and how he thought that wasn’t a good thing as it meant he was seeking glory for glory’s sake, relishing war and soldiering as an occupation rather than an unfortunate necessity.

Of course, Faramir was also making (some very dubious) racial commentary, but race and gender are often bound up together (e.g. hyper-masculinization of black men and the feminization of East Asian men in the North America).

As R.W. Connell says, “masculinities are congurations of practice that are constructed, unfold, and change through time” — and, additionally, masculinity must be defined in opposition to femininity but, also, other masculinities.

For Rohan, there is a strong, militarized hyper-masculinity that threads through their culture. One of the reasons Theoden was seen as a failing king was his physical decline and inability to continue being a physically strong king. His aging emasculated him, more so when compared to Theodred and Eomer. (Something Theoden believed of himself and Grima capitalized on.)

For this, I’m going to speak of masculinity of the upper classes, since that’s what we see for Rohan. Masculinity, and how it’s to be performed, is contingent on social variables such as, but not limited to: age, appearance and size, bodily facility, care, economic class, ethnicity, fatherhood, relations to biological reproduction, leisure, martial and kinship status, occupation, sexuality etc. and as we never see lower class Rohirrim men it’s impossible to say what the “acceptable” and “expected” forms for a farmer or cooper would be.

Upper class men of Rohan are expected to be militarily capable - ready to ride and fight when called by their king or marshal. They are to be men of action over word, and when language is in play, it’s to be forthright and plain. No riddling. Marriage/Husband-ing is an expected part of manhood. Being strong minded, and capable of taking charge and making decisions is important. Fatherhood is also clearly prized, especially fatherhood that results in son(s).

(Theoden only having one child could be read as another “failure” in living up to Rohirrim ideals when compared to the older kings of his family who were far more prolific.)

The appearance of an “ideal” man is tall, fair, and handsome. Physically strong and capable in all ways (martially, sexually, fertile etc.).

Men should be able to demonstrate that they are capable of being in charge, taking control, defending and protecting families and homes. This slots in with more generalized expectations around bravery, honour and glory.

[Eomer: And that, in summation, is how you are to Be A Man.

Grima: Well that sounds utterly exhausting.]

So, with all of that in mind, let’s talk Grima.

First, let’s address the name and character construction as this is the least bound up in how he acts and its tension with Rohirrim ideals of Being a Man. It’s also interesting in that it can give a glimpse into Tolkien and the possible thoughts he had when constructing Grima.

Grima’s Name & Beowulf Stuff

Grima’s name is from old Icelandic Grimr, which is a name Odin takes during the Grimnismal saga.

Here are some lines from Odin in the saga:

I have called myself Grim,

I have called myself Wanderer,

Warrior and Helmet-Wearer,

[...]

Evildoer, Spellcaster,

Masked and Shadowed-Face,

Fool and Wise Man,

[...]

Rope-Rider and Hanged-God.

I have never been known

by just one name

since I first walked among men.

Not only is Grima’s name from Odin, more importantly, it’s the feminine version of that name. No man in the eddas or sagas goes by Grima. Only women. And most often they were seidr-workers or healers/magic practitioners of some kind.

"Other healers include Gríma from Fóstbræðra saga and Laxdæla saga and Heiðr from Biarmiland in Harald’s saga Hárfagra."

- “Hostile Magic in the Icelandic Sagas,” Hilda Ellis-Davidson

And

"There was a man called Kotkel, who had only recently arrived in Iceland. His wife was called Grima. Their sons were Hallbjorn Sleekstone-Eye and Stigandi. These people had come from the Hebrides. They were all extremely skilled in witchcraft and were great sorcerers."

- Laxdæla saga

This is most likely something Tolkien was aware of — I would be flabbergasted if he wasn’t. However, did he fully appreciate the implications in terms of gender and subversion of masculinity? Impossible to say, of course, but he certainly knew he was giving his male character a name that has only been used by women in historical texts.

It would be akin to naming your male character Henrietta instead of Henry. It’s a deliberate, explicit decision. And while I don’t think Tolkien expected most readers to track down the origin of Grima’s name, the --a ending, to most anglophone readers, signifies a feminine name, more often than not. At least, it rarely, if ever, signifies masculine.

So the name alone brings in, at a subconscious level to readers, feminine qualities.

Alongside this, Grima is loosely based on Unferth from Beowulf. The entrance of Gandalf et al into Meduseld directly mirrors Beowulf’s into Hrothgar’s hall (complete with Grima lounging at Theoden’s feet the same as Unferth at Hrothgar’s). Indeed, it was clearly Tolkien’s intention to make a call back to Beowulf with that scene. (He was being all “look how clever I am. Also these are Anglo-Saxons on horses. As a general fyi”).

Unferth is a fascinating character in his own right ,and there is much scholarly debate around his role within Hrothgar’s hall, as well as the text more broadly. While there isn’t enough time/space to get into Unferth, I will quickly note that he is another character who subverts his society’s ideas of manhood and masculinity — particularly with regards to expectations of heroism and bravery. Yet, at the same time, Unferth is noted for being very intelligent, cunning, good at riddling, and overall quick witted (also, a kin-slayer. Dude murdered his brothers for Reasons).

Unferth’s contrary behaviour that flies in the face of Anglo-Saxon norms and ideals of masculine bravery is clearly reflected in Grima. Particularly in Grima’s fear of battle and lack of interest in taking up his sword when called by his king.

This leaves us with a character who was given a woman’s name and who is loosely based on another character who is known for his inability to follow through on his society’s expectations for masculine behaviour.

Grima, from the first moment we meet him, clearly reads more feminine than masculine - this is amplified when he’s contrasted with the likes of Theoden and Eomer. And, not only is his aligned with traditional femininity more than other male characters, he is specifically aligned with the more negative tropes of femininity (i.e. lack of bravery, unreliable, dubious morals etc.).

That is a brief overview of the bones of Grima’s construction: name and inspiration. Now for actions and characterization within the text. This will be subdivided into comments on his use of magic and how that interfaces with Rohirrim masculinity then we’ll get into power and language.

Grima’s key point of power is his ability to weave words in so powerful a way he could convince Theoden of his own infirmity and weakness thereby securing control over the king. Alongside this, we know that he was using certain “potions and poison” to further weaken Theoden. Most likely to amp up the king’s physical weakness so it coincided with Grima’s mental magic games.

Magic for Anglo-Saxon and early medieval Scandinavians was heavily rooted in the power of the spoken word. Runes were probably used but the historical support of this is vague. Which is to say, we know they were used, we’re just not certain how and to what extent.

We do know that rune staves were a thing. They were most often used to send your landwights after opponents or wreck havoc on enemies from afar. To make one, a magic-worker would carve the prescribed runes onto a large stave and position it in the ground facing the direction of their enemy. On top of the stave was added the head of a horse. (Lots of horse sacrifice happened for early medieval Scandinavians, alongside some human sacrifice.)

But, the brunt of magic for Anglo-Saxons and early medieval Scandinavians was spoken word. Which makes sense as their society was, like Rohan’s, predominantly illiterate or, at least, para-literate (though, there has been some recent archeological evidence that is starting to call that into question, for what that’s worth).

In particular, Grima’s spellwork aligns most closely with seidr, a fact I’ve gone about ad nausea. And, again, something we can assume Tolkien was aware of, which means he was also aware of the gendered implications of a man practicing the craft.

The mainstay of seidrcraft is, but not limited to, the following:

making illusions,

causing madness and/or forgetfulness,

brewing of potions and poisons,

prophesying,

channeling the dead,

channeling gods,

removal of elf-shot, and

recovering lost portions of someone’s soul.

The first three bullets are things Grima does to Theoden. That kind of magic — the kind that fucks with your mind and your sense of self, the kind that is subtle and quiet and lurks beneath the surface so you don’t know it’s happening, that’s cunning — that kind of magic is what women do.

It was considered unmanly/effeminate for a man to partake in it as it undermined the hypermasculine militarized culture of the time. Winning a battle or a fight through spells and poison was cowardly.

Therefore, in Rohan where we have this hypermasculine culture that so prizes military glory and grandeur and martial might, Grima pursuing his goals through spellcraft and potions/poisons is Grima pursuing distinctly unmasculine, effeminate modes of action.

Indeed, within Rohan it could call into question the entirety of his masculinity. It would make him ragr (adj. unmanly) because his actions are the epitome of ergi (noun. unmanliness).

"In the Viking Age, homosexual men were treated with extreme disdain and a complex kind of moral horror, especially those who allowed themselves to be penetrated. Such a man was ragr, not only homosexual by inclination and action, but also inhabiting a state of being that extended to ethical and social qualities. This complex of concepts has been extensively studied, and in the words of its leading scholar, "the unmanly man is everything that a man should not be with regard to morals and character. He is effeminate and he is a coward, and consequently devoid of honour". [...] What we would call sexual orientation was, in the viking age, completely bound up with much wider and deeper codes of behaviour and dignity, extending way beyond physical and emotional preference." -Neil Price, Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings

Though Price references specifically homosexuality in this passage, a man could be considered ragr for more than just that — and one of the other ways was through practicing seidr.

We see this with Odin, who learns how to do seidrcraft from Freyja, and is then mocked by Loki for how emasculating the practice is for Odin to undertake (as if Loki has any room to talk). Odin’s made himself effeminate, he’s made himself unmanly, he’s allowed himself to learn spells that could enable him to take a cowards way out of a situation, to be dishonourable etc.

Which is a neat tie-back to Grima’s name being one of Odin’s names, particularly when he is in disguise and using seidrcraft and wily ways to escape various unfortunate situations that he ends up in during the Grimnismal saga.

(As Odin says: I have been called Evildoer, Spellcaster, Masked and Shadowed-Face, Fool and Wise Man.)

It also mirrors him to Gandalf - another character who bears an Odinnic name. Gandalf very much represents the masculine, “acceptable” aspects of Odin. Grima embodies the darker, more dubious, and more effeminate, aspects of the god. As I’ve said in other posts, they are two sides of the Odin coin.

Though both are temperamental as fuck.

Alongside the spellcraft and potions, Grima’s performance of power does not align with Rohirrim traditions and ideals. He relies on his wits and his skill with language to navigate the world. Succinctly captured in the epithet bestowed upon him: Wormtongue. This is the modernization of Wyrmtunga, or, Dragon’s Tongue.

Wyrm can translate to worm, sure, and we see Saruman doing this on purpose when he refers to Grima as a worm, a creature that crawls in the dirt. But Wyrm, of course, is actually a form of dragon. And in Middle Earth, wyrm is used interchangeably with dragon (Smaug is called both wyrm and dragon), rather than denoting a specific species/categorization of dragon as it does in our world.

Grima’s approach to power is that of a gentle touch. He speaks softly, but doesn’t carry a large stick. He’s not Eomer or Theodred, who are much more traditionally martial, aggressive and forthright in their responses to a situation. Grima is clearly all about influencing those around him either through persuasion/use of words, or through spellcraft. He manipulates, he uses linguistic trickery.

Additionally, how he undertakes his role as advisor to the king places him more within the private world of Meduseld and the king’s household than the active, public world of marshals and thanes. And, of course, the private world of households was traditionally considered the woman’s domain while men were expected to occupy the public spaces of the world.

Of course, being involved in court politics is a public role as opposed to existing within a wholly private space (such as Eowyn. Who, in the books, takes a mostly private role until she is required to rule in her uncle’s stead while he and Eomer are off at war, and even then it is clearly considered a temporary situation and part of her duty as a woman). But the manner in which Grima occupies that public position is a more “feminine” one.

We can assume that if Eomer or Erkenbrand or Elfhelm occupied the role as advisor to Theoden, they would have a very different approach to the position. A much more aggressive, active and probably military-focused approach. Less carrot, more stick.

A quick note on his appearance in the film, aside from being entirely in black with black hair in a land full of blonds because he needed to be visually distinct as the Bad Guy. He is dressed in longer tunics and robes compared to Eomer and other Rohirrim men (aside from Theoden, but as soon as he is “healed” of his possession(?) he returns to the Proper Masculine shorter tunics than the Weak and Effeminate longer robes and tunics of before). Grima’s hair is longer than Eomer’s and Theoden’s, he wears only a dagger and not a sword, the furs and quilting of his clothes indicate wealth and status, of course, but also decadence and effeminacy.

All in all, Grima’s performance and actions undermine and subvert Rohirrim expectations of masculinity. If not outright transgressing gender norms. He uses spellcraft to achieve his ends which is cowardly and effeminate. When it’s not that, he relies on language and manipulation to ensure his position and rarely, if ever, willingly takes on an active, martial role that would be expected of a man who is in the king’s household and serves as an advisor and a quasi-second-in-command.

Here is a man, occupying a man’s role, but doing it like a woman. Subversive! Scandalous! Underappreciated by fandom!

Grima lives in a liminal, marginalized space that is at once gendered and ungendered but is absolutely Othered.

As for my note on Grima and being trans - absolutely a trans woman. Grima suffers from that thing of “I want to be you and sleep with you” re: Eowyn. That’s my hot take. (Similar to me and Alan Grant from Jurassic Park - I want to be him and sleep with him.)

But no, in all seriousness, a strong argument can absolutely be made for Grima being not-cis, however that might look for Grima. Grima and Eowyn are the two, within the trilogies, that have the strongest arguments to be made for not being cis.

(Grima is a bit of a foil for Eowyn, I think, while also being a foil for Gandalf.)

#grima wormtongue #lotr #Lord of the Rings #writing #lit #gender presentation #gender in LOTR #Rohan #masculinity #queer shit #history #anglo-saxon #viking

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 6 years

Text

Mistletoe - Eomer

An Advent Calendar of Fics!

I’ve been watching the extended editions all weekend, so I’m right in the mood for this fic. I’ve been working on this for hours, whoops!

Pairing: Eomer x Reader Synopsis: Eowyn leaves the reader and Eomer alone so that they may reacquaint themselves. Word Count: 2,726

Songs that inspired this fic: Something There // This is My Idea // Across the Stars

The air was cold, and as you approached the steps of Edoras, you could not wait to get in front of a warm fire with your friend, Eowyn. Now that the war was over, and life had returned to normal, you decided to come visit her before her wedding to Lord Faramir.

At the gate, a Rohirrim guard let you into the halls of Meduseld, and took your horse. You waited patiently, staring at the empty throne. When last you had been in Rohan, King Theoden sat upon the throne; now his seat was filled by Eomer, Eowyn’s older brother.

It was hard for you to imagine Eomer ruling from the throne. When you last saw him, he was still picking on you and Eowyn, and cared more about fighting than anything else. It had been years since then, but it was hard to imagine Eomer as a man, and not as the twelve year old boy who chased you around the fields surrounding Rohan.

“Y/N? Oh, it really is you!” Eowyn broke you from your travel down memory lane, and the young blonde woman came rushing into the room. You smiled and she hugged you tightly.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “It’s so nice to see you back in Rohan.”

“You’ll have to get used to Gondor soon enough.” She laughed, and flipped her hair behind her shoulders. In that brief moment, two men started walking towards the throne from across the room. Eowyn turned, and together you looked and saw Faramir and Eomer, with the latter sitting down upon the throne.

“Come,” Eowyn said, leading you towards the king. Faramir hugged you in greeting, and when you turned to Eomer, he took in a deep breath. It seemed that his kingship had yet to fit him.

“My lord,” you said, falling to one knee. Eomer laughed and stood up.

“Please, there’s no need, Y/N. I still remember those days when I would fight with you and Eowyn. We are even.” You laughed and looked up at his kind eyes. “Welcome back to Rohan.”

“Thank you.” Eowyn wrapped her arms around yours, and smiled at her older brother.

“You seem to have business here, I’ll just get Y/N warmed up before a fire.” He nodded at her, and Faramir looked lovingly at her as she dragged you away.

“You seem very happy, my friend,” you said, sitting down on the chaise lounge chair with Eowyn. She smiled, and hid her face behind her hand.

“I only wish you could share in my happiness.”

“What do you mean? I am very happy. I’m here with you.” She laughed and shook her head.

“That’s not what I mean. I want you to be as happy as I am with Faramir.” You blushed slightly and looked over at the fire. “You know, I used to think that someday you would end up with my brother.”

“You’re joking,” you said, laughing out loud.

“I’m not. There was always a spark between you two, even when we were kids.”

“Eowyn, I only knew Eomer as a kid. I don’t know him as the King of Rohan.”

“Well, he hasn’t changed much. He still loves his horse, his men, and bossing me around.”

“He does that because he also loves you.”

“I suppose you’re right. But it wouldn’t be awful for the two of you to get to know each other again.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Great, I’ll arrange it then,” she said, smiling a little too eagerly.

“Is that why you invited me here?” you asked. She tried to fight off her smile, but couldn’t, and ended up laughing.

“I did miss you, Y/N.”

That next morning, Eowyn’s full plan came into play. You sat at a breakfast table with she, Faramir, and Eomer. Ever few moments, Eowyn stole a glance to Faramir, who looked at her with a smile.

“Eomer,” Eowyn said, breaking the silence. “Isn’t Y/N’s dress lovely?” Eomer looked up from his food, and glanced at you. You blushed slightly, and glared at Eowyn.

“Yes.”

“I would like to have one like it, I think. For the wedding. Y/N tells me that these dresses take a long time to be made.”

“Do they?” he asked, barely paying attention.

“Yes. And with the weather getting worse, I would like to get my order in as soon as possible.”

“As you should.” Eomer continued to stare down at the bowl in front of him, and Eowyn’s smile was stretching across her face.

“I’m so glad you agree. Faramir and I will be traveling to Gondor today.”

“You’ll what?!” you and Eomer asked at the same time.

“But I only just got here,” you said, glaring at Eowyn slightly.

“I know. But I really want to get this dress. You understand, don’t you?” The men looked over at the two of you, and you knew you couldn’t refuse.

“Of course. I could show you right where it is-”

“No, please, stay here,” she said, still smiling at you. “Eomer can make sure you feel welcomed, can’t you brother?”

“Well, I do have some things to attend to, Eowyn. Perhaps it might be better if she went with you.”

“Oh please. She can entertain herself for a few hours or so. Just show her around Rohan.” You and Eomer exchanged a brief look, and then turned back to Eowyn.

“I suppose.”

“Great. Then it’s settled. We’ll leave right now.”

“Right now, my lady?” Faramir asked.

“Yes. Are you not ready?”

“No, of course.”

“Then we shall be on our way,” she said, standing. “Will you both see us out?”

“Of course,” you said, standing. The four of you walked out into the freezing cold weather, where Eowyn and Faramir’s horses were waiting. “I see you’ve been planning this for quite some time.”

“It’ll be fine, my dear old friend, it’ll be nice for the two of you to have some bonding time.”

“I’m sure,” you said, smiling forcefully up at her as she mounted her horse.

“I shall send word to you once we arrive,” Eowyn said, looking to her brother.

“Travel safe.”

“Keep her in good company.”

“I shall,” he said, kissing her hand. “Faramir shall do the same for you, I hope.” She smiled at her fiance and nodded.

“He will.” He looked at her with a smile, and they rode off together. As the left Edoras, Eomer looked over at you, and laughed painfully.

“They did this on purpose.”

“They most certainly did,” you said, shaking your head.

“I do not wish to be rude, but I do have some things to take care of. I could join you for dinner tonight?”

“That will be fine, my lord.”

“Eomer, please,” he said. You nodded and he let out a breath. “My people are at your service. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, my lady.”

“Y/N.” He nodded and a true smile crept upon his face.

“I shall see you tonight, Y/N.”

“My lady?” A knock came from your door, and you told the lady in waiting to come in. She was a young girl with fiery red hair, which made her stand out very much in the thralls of Rohan women.

“Hello.”

“I’m here to assist you. Lady Eowyn said you might need help with a dress?” You looked down at the one you were wearing and shrugged.

“I’m not sure I need it.”

“She picked out a few for you to look at.” She beckoned for someone down the hall, and another two women came in, carrying dresses in the most extravagant fabrics and colors.

“Naturally. I assume that she told you not to take no for an answer either?” The lady smiled and looked down at her toes. “Do as you must.”

As you made your way back to the golden hall, you were wearing a finer dress that you had worn before. You felt a little foolish, knowing that Eomer would be wearing exactly what he was wearing this morning, but there was no stopping Eowyn when she set her mind to a task.

Eomer was talking to Gamling when you came in, but glanced up at you when he heard your steps. He did a double take, and turned away from the map that he and Gamling were studying.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” you said, walking into the room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Eomer said, glancing back at the older man who was walking away. “I just lost track of time.”

“That’s alright.” He led you over to the table, and pulled out a chair for you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said as he sat down across from you. A dinner had been set for the two of you, and you had a feeling that Eowyn had something to do with the elegance of the meal.

“It’s strange to see you sit in the throne. In all of my life I never pictured that you would be the one who ruled Rohan.”

“No?” he asked, looking over at you inquisitively.

“I of course assumed Theodred would be king, and if not, I assumed Eowyn would wiggle her way into there at some point.” Eomer laughed heartily and you smiled.

“Well, try as she might, the throne is mine.”

“And do you like being king?” He sighed and looked at you for a while as he thought.

“It’s not something I like, but something I must do. I’m not used to leading more than a few hundred men, save an entire realm.”

“Well your people seem to think you’re doing a fine job,” you said. He smiled and glanced down at the food in front of him.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t know if I will ever be as good a leader as my uncle.”

“Well you have your time to find out.”

“And you?” he asked, smiling at you slightly. “Do you like where you are?”

“Being a lady in the household of King Elessar is wonderful, but it’s not where I pictured myself either.”

“And where did you imagine yourself?”

“Somewhere where my voice mattered.”

“Aragorn takes your opinion very seriously.”

“As much as he appreciates my opinion, my words don’t weigh much in terms of a king’s.” Eomer frowned and you shook your head. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“You shouldn’t worry about the impact you are making on your people’s lives.”

“A king must.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said, taking a drink of your goblet. Eomer chuckled and took a drink of his.

Two days hence, Eomer called you into the throne room to show you the letter that Eowyn had sent. In it she detailed that they had arrived in Gondor, and had ordered the dress, but the weather seemed just too bad, and she would have to wait until it was finished to return.

“In it, she signs, ‘I hope you are getting along splendidly,’“ Eomer said, looking up at you playfully. You laughed and took the note from his hands, smiling at the kind, but eager words of Eowyn.

“So she’ll be home by the end of the week,” you said, pulling your braid over your shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Then we must make sure we are getting along splendidly in that time.” You laughed and Eomer stood from his throne. “Care for a walk, my lady?”

“Y/N is fine,” you said, taking his outstretched arm.

“I know.” You picked up the train of your dress, and walked with him down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“I enjoy your company, I thought you might come with me to a meeting with my men. I would like to have your input.”

“You would?” you asked, looking up at him. He met your gaze and nodded.

“Absolutely.” You blushed slightly and looked at your destination.

“What are you meeting about?”

“Defenses and things.” You laughed.

“I would love to be of assistance.” He opened the door to a room a little off the throne room, and nearly all of the men of his company stood in the door. You clenched a little, and he pulled you into the room.

“I want you here. I want to hear what you have to say,” he whispered. “I have brought the Lady Y/N to provide council on our meeting. I take great heed in her words, as should you.”

“It’s snowing beautifully out,” you said, walking into the throne room. Eomer looked up from his papers and smiled at you.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” you said, moving to one of the windows. The snow was falling down softly, but in big flakes. “We should go for a ride.”

“I agree.” You looked back at him, not expecting that immediate response, and he was already standing. “Although the snow is pretty thick, you should probably ride with me.”

“Should I?” you asked with a smirk, walking closer to him.

“Yes,” he said, more confidently now. You smiled and met his eye.

“Okay. Let’s go for a ride.”

Eomer led his horse to the steps of Meduseld, and smiled at you as you walked down the steps. He mounted first, and then took your hand and helped you sit in front of him. You positioned your dress carefully before taking off.

Eomer’s strong arms were around you, holding the reigns of his steed. When Eowyn returned tomorrow, you would not tell her that you imagined what it would be like to always have those arms around you.

You both knew that Eowyn and Faramir would be returning tomorrow, and although you would be overjoyed to see your friend, you had enjoyed getting to know each other. Asking Eomer to go on this ride with you only meant that you could spend a little more time together before Eowyn stuck her nose into things as she usually did.

When Eomer reached the edge of the forest, he stopped his horse, and jumped down. He grabbed onto your waist, and you tried to keep the gasp held within as he brought you down. He held out his arm and you took it again.

“Eowyn will be returning home tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes. Are you glad?”

“I always wish to see my sister, but-”

“But?” you asked, looking up at him as you moved through the snowy forest.

“But I have enjoyed our time together as well.”

“As have I. It’s nice to spend time without your sister arranging everything.”

“Without her, though, we may never have had this time.”

“Well, she always said we were destined to be.”

“She did?” he asked, looking down at you. You blushed, and looked down at the snow.

“She did.”

“And what do you think?” he asked, coming to a stop. You thought of what to say, and looked up at the trees, hoping to stall. When you did, you noticed something very peculiar. “Y/N?”

“Look, on that branch,” you said quietly, pointing up at the blooming green, and white berries of the mistletoe hanging above your heads.

“Mistletoe,” Eomer said, laughing softly.

“You know what you’re supposed to do when you are underneath the mistletoe?”

“I am familiar,” he said, stepping an inch closer to you. You took in a breath, and looked into his eyes. “I wish Eowyn could stay away forever, and that we could have this time.”

“Our own world away from real life,” you said, putting your hands on his arms. “It’s too much to ask for.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I think we could make it like this all the time.”

“Can we?” you asked, barely breathing. He nodded just slightly before leaning in to kiss you. You gripped his arms tighter, and couldn’t help but smile as you kissed him. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, and you twirled his hair in your finger.

“Do you think you might come back, once Eowyn and Faramir have married?”

“I think you would have to try really hard to stop me.” He laughed and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t try at all.” You smiled and kissed him softly once more.

“When Eowyn returns, let’s not tell her about all of this.”

“You have my word, as long as you promise to return.” You smiled and laced your hands in his.

“And you have mine.”

#advent calendar fics #eomer #eomer imagine #eomer oneshot #lotr #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lord of the #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #eomer x reader #eomer fanfiction #eomer fanfic

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dalleyan · 1 year

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Elfwine Chronicles (new LoTR stories, Brothers posted, 1-7-23)

Faramir contemplates his life during a visit to Rohan. (Introspecction)

Note: This story is an adjunct to my story “Legacy” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38268832/chapters/98294955). Eomer spotted Faramir lost in thought during an outing and wondered what was on his mind. This reveals it (to you, not to Eomer). It is probably best that you read Legacy before reading this, as some of it makes references to that story without much explanation.

Brothers - (Jul, 4 IV)

Life was good – a beautiful wife whom he loved madly, a fine son and another child on the way. Perhaps a brother for Elboron, or this time a sister. If it was a boy, he could only hope that his sons would share the closeness he and his own brother had.

Boromir. How he missed his brother, even all these years later. Boromir had been more than a brother, but also a father and a friend. When their father was lost to grief over the death of his wife, and turned much of that grief into antagonism toward his youngest son, it was Boromir who had consoled Faramir, reassured him, guided him, loved him.

He had come to have a brotherly affection for Elessar, the king of Gondor who had been with Boromir at his death, but the roles of king and steward drew an indefinable line between them that somehow prevented the completely unguarded intimacy of true brothers.

More than Elessar, Faramir had found his closest substitute for Boromir in his brother-in-law, Eomer. Granted, the two men were very different, but both were consumate warriors, and fiercely loved their land and people. Though Eomer was also a king, he was not Faramir’s sovereign, and it was easier to feel relaxed in his company than with Elessar.

He knew that in the earliest days of their acquaintance, Eomer had held some reservations about him – the man who would presume to claim his sister’s heart. But as they had come to know one another, Eomer had recognized his honest intentions and had warmly embraced him as a friend and as a brother. In many ways, Eomer needed the relationship as much as Faramir did. The loss of his cousin Theodred, and his sister’s moving so far away after marriage, had left Eomer feeling quite alone. His marriage to Lothiriel had eased that somewhat, but Eomer was still a bit bereft of family. Faramir’s only regret was that they lived so far apart, and had such demanding responsibilities, that they could not spend as much time in one another’s company as they might wish. He had a feeling they could become even closer if they were in nearer proximity.

He smiled to himself as he remembered Eomer’s greeting of Elboron. How much that had reminded him of Boromir. Though many did not expect it of the gruff Captain-General of Gondor’s army, Boromir had been very good with children. Boromir would have made a fine uncle to Elboron…

Faramir let out a sigh. He would just have to make more time to visit Rohan. Eowyn would certainly wish to do so, and he wanted his children to grow up knowing their cousin, or cousins if Eomer and Lothiriel were blessed with more children. Faramir’s home had lost its joy after his mother passed on, but he wanted very much to raise his own family in a much different manner. Fostering close relations with his relatives in Dol Amroth was easy enough, but he would not allow the relations with Rohan to suffer for the distance.

A loud splash to his right drew him from his reverie, and he turned to discover that Elfwine was no longer on the stream bank with his cousin. Faramir’s stomach gave a lurch as he charged toward the floundering child, and jumped into the water to retrieve him. Elfwine was spluttering and coughing, though it was clear he was more frightened than hurt. Wading to the bank, Faramir took a seat on a large stone and soothed the agitated child held snuggled close in his arms. His own son was crying as well, and Faramir reached out an arm to pull him into the embrace also.

As the two boys gradually calmed, Faramir deemed it possible to return to their campsite. Lothiriel would want to know of the mishap and see for herself that her son was well. Gathering Elfwine close to keep him warm, Faramir began his trudge up the hill. Elboron caught hold of his tunic to follow along, glancing up now and then to eye his cousin with concern. The small boy in his arms gave a sniffle occasionally, but for the most part he seemed to be recovering from the experience.

Just then, Faramir became aware of Eomer hurrying down the hill toward them. It was apparent from his expression that he had witnessed the recent events and was concerned. Calling out as reassurance, Faramir told him, “Do not be alarmed. Elfwine is fine. He is just a little frightened.”

Seeing that Elfwine was content in Faramir’s arms, Eomer had scooped up Elboron and the two men continued up the hill together. Later, as they were riding home, holding their sons securely in front of them in their saddles, Faramir snuck a glance at his brother-in-law…no…brother. Perhaps they were related only by marriage, but he could not think of Eomer in such distant terms. They had truly become brothers. He knew that now. Eomer’s reactions through this accident had been just what Boromir’s would have been. He could not have Boromir back, a thought that greatly saddened him, but he was not without a brother.

THE END

also on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43903747/chapters/110942778

#Eomer #Lothiriel #Lord of the Rings #elfwine chronicles #LOTR #Faramir #Elfwine

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grundyscribbling · 6 years

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Eowyn

Because it’s me and one thing leads to another, that post about the movie version Helm’s Deep has gotten me thinking about Eowyn.

On one hand, I love that she’s a badass who ends up killing the Witch King in a Birnam Wood moment. She does that while also bringing Merry along, because she understands not wanting to be left behind. And she’s basically the only traditional hero we girls get. Galadriel’s nice, but she’s more a hostess/wise-woman/gift-giver than a hero, and we only see Arwen a couple minutes in Imladris, and then at the end when she shows up to get married and give Frodo her place on the ship. Aside from Ioreth, and a handful of hobbit ladies back in the Shire, that’s pretty much it for women in LotR. (Unless we’re counting Shelob, but we’re not, right?)

On the other hand, can we talk about how Eowyn was 100% in the wrong to run away to battle? Yes, it worked out, but in the fine glow of victory, it never gets addressed that she went AWOL because she didn’t like the duty assigned to her. (She’d appealed for permission to ride to battle multiple times, both to her uncle and to Aragorn. Theoden denied her permission; Aragorn had no standing to give or withhold permission and told her so.)

And she absolutely did have a duty. Take a look at the text:

“Behold! I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding," said Theoden. "I have no child. Theodred my son is slain. I name Eomer my sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will. But to some one I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?" No man spoke. "Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?" "In the House of Eorl," answered Hama. "But Eomer I cannot spare, nor would he stay," said the king, "and he is the last of that House." "I said not Eomer," answered Hama. "And he is not the last. There is Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, his sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone." "It shall be so," said Theoden. "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!"

Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors, and Eowyn knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corslet.

-The Two Towers, Chapter 6 “The King of the Golden Hall”

With her uncle the king and her older brother the heir to the king both riding to war in Gondor, Eowyn was the ranking member - indeed, the only member - of the House of Eorl left in Rohan. She was the person the people had expressed their trust in as a leader, and her uncle charged her to rule in his absence. She was responsible for the care and defense of the Rohirrim. And she ran out on them, with no mention of having made any arrangement for who would be in charge in her absence.

Far from being given ‘women’s work’ as she complained to Aragorn, Eowyn was in fact being accorded an honor in being named her uncle’s regent - when Theoden looked around for a lord to leave in charge, he was told it was not a man, but Eowyn who the people trusted. As ignoble as her role might have seemed to her up to that point, the Rohirrim recognized her worth.

If Eowyn had a younger sister to deputize, or had her mother still been living, her decision to sneak out to the war would not have been so problematic. (At least, not from an objective point of view- I imagine her brother and likely her uncle would have strongly objected. She also would still have been going for dubious reasons, either glory-seeking or death-seeking.) In fact, had Eowyn’s mother Theodwyn been alive, she arguably might have been the more appropriate choice to act in Theoden’s place in his absence by virtue of her age/experience, so Eowyn wouldn’t have needed to desert her post in the first place.

This seems like an odd choice or oversight on Tolkien’s part. Eowyn would still have ridden to war had there been someone else of the House of Eorl, be it a mother or a sister to take her place in Rohan, but her action would not have been wrong in and of itself. And given how many dead or absent mothers* there are in Lord of the Rings, it would have been nice to see one living and contributing more than just her offspring to events. (Even Galadriel gets reduced to little more than the fruit of her womb - when thanking her for her parting gifts, Aragorn can think of no higher praise than to describe her as being she ‘of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar.’)

It’s even odder that we never see this aspect of Eowyn’s actions mentioned in the story, particularly when Beregond’s far more minor dereliction of duty with the express purpose of saving a life is addressed publicly. Was Eomer so happy his sister survived that he never got around to chewing her out for dereliction of duty? Did he assume that she somehow talked their uncle into allowing her to ride with them? Did he wait and address it ‘off-screen’, maybe at some point once Theoden had been buried in Rohan? Or did he decide that the best thing to do under the circumstances was to let it slide?

*Major characters whose mothers are known to be dead/departed to the West: Frodo, Arwen & Elladan & Elrohir, Aragorn, Boromir & Faramir, Theodred, Eomer & Eowyn, Elrond

Major characters whose mother is never mentioned at all, not even a name: Legolas, Gimli

Major characters whose mother is only a name in the Appendices: Sam, Pippin, Merry.

I omitted any character whose mother might reasonably be expected to be dead of old age in the normal course of events, such as Bilbo. (I’m also omitting Galadriel, since she’s an exile by her own choice, so it seems unfair to add Eärwen to the dead/absent mothers list.)

#tolkien #women in tolkien #dead mothers #eowyn #duty

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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(I didn’t finish my sentence lmfaoo. I meant I don’t hate the movies portrayal of D B and F’s relationship but I might’ve preferred it in the books ahaha sry my bad lol) yeah that’s kind of an issue with create movies of book, ppl just assume it’s the same cause it’s an adaptation. The books are a Lot too, so ppl might not even wanna bother cause they’re not easy to read vs watching an Adaption of them, so they’ll never know the og characters.

I only rewatch lotr recently after years of growing up with it and tbh I completely forgot that Gondor was a Thing, it rly is just kinda forgettable in the movies.

This is rly making me want to tackle the books lol. The differences are gonna be something to adjust to.

Apart from the Gondor dudes who would you say gets the biggest change? Or worse in your opinion

Oh no I do hate the dynamic of the steward family in the films jdahkjasd Honestly I think this portrayal of abusive parents being just ugly and easily identifiable as villains is somewhat regressive but No worries no worries.

ANd yeah... Gondor really is so forgettable in the films I-

BUT YEAH UM... I guess I can’t say everyone can I um, lets start talking and see how many we get through.

Merry and Pippin got an absolutely tragic reduction in the films. In the books they’re frodo’s friends long before the film, Merry is Frodo’s best friend, he loves Frodo so much he helps him move house and deals with his obnoxious family. Merry actually organises the whole trip, he figures out Frodo intends to leave on his own and secretly organises to go with him JUST because he’s his best friend. He’s like yo, you’ve got something scary you’ve got to do Frodo? Don’t know why you thought we’d let you do it on your own. Merry saves the whole quest by doing this! Frodo would have died before he even got out of the Shire if not for Merry.

Gimli’s portrayal, also a tragedy. Peter Jackson saw dwarf and immediately decided ‘comic relief’, despite the fact that Gimli is more polite than Aragorn or Legolas, is a poet and has one of the longest monologues about art and culture in the whole book. It guts me thinking about it.

Eowyn has a severe reduction in her feelings and character, her monologue is sanitised away from a much more bitter and angry condemnation of her people’s culture around women. We got a more patronising image of her relationship with Merry too.

FRODO, oh god Frodo I’m so sorry, Frodo was clever and masterful and adult and!! He was funny! And sarcastic, he was philosophical and cunning. Films tell you that Merry and Pippin were like thieves, NO Merry and Pippin were very upstanding young gentlemen and Farmer Maggot thought very highly of them both. FRODO is the criminal in this group who stole his mushrooms! Frodo asked questions and made plans and tried to figure things out by himself, he wasn’t this strange melancholic ring box to be ushered places. Frodo saved the world by TAKING the ring’s power on mount doom after planning how to do that and cursing gollum to essentially drop the ring into the mountain of fire LIKE. Frodo had agency! SAM TOO fsfdgsdfgs I skip frodo and sam’s scenes in the films but i love them in the books.

Aragorn and Gandalf are vastly different characters in the films in that they’re likable. And this is... better for Aragorn I think. Although I miss him being a little more snarky and self important and sharp, but it’s better than Aragorn’s likable which he thoroughly isn’t in the books in my opinion. I MEAN... he’s- he’s very complex in the books and there are likable moments amongst him snapping at people and talking about himself. But for Gandalf I think it was a thorough detriment. Which hurts, love Ian Mckellen, that’s my grandad, but Gandalf was like genuinely manipulative in the books and literally could not stand being wrong despite being wrong quite a lot. Constantly Gandalf will angrily and rudely snap at people who rightly critisise his choices (Boromir for one) and this is good because you don’t want an infallible morally irreproachable dad for this whole adventure. It’s much more interesting this way.

Eomer, miss him being a little more young and fiery and a little out of his depth but proud and confident even so. Like I know Karl Urban was exactly 27 in the films but he felt very world weary and kind of ‘I’ve had it’ when he’d only just become Third Marshall like barely a year ago. AND OF COURSE, this is compounded by the way Theodred’s death is portrayed like... askjdas like oops! Our 18 year old prince just died in this lil stream in this small lil battle huh weird- NO!! Theodred was 41!! And had died in a MASSIVE battle against Isengard! He was assassinated in fact, the whole point of the battle was to assassinate Theodred because he’d been so influential to maintaining Rohan’s stability despite all Grima and Saruman’s efforts. Eomer was a man who’d just lost a mentor, an adopted elder brother! Anyway...

Um... honourable mention for Hama... our dear doorward... miss you being relevant and telling Aragorn to fuck off babe. Farmer Maggot, miss you being relevant and like the literal best. Haldir, miss you NOT being relevant dwarfist bastard but I love to watch you die. Galadriel and Celeborn, not enough she pegs him energy, not enough of her being scary and unknowable, not enough of her laughing. Bilbo! I’m sorry they didn’t let you go back to the Lonely Mountain that’s miserable my guy.... Gollum’s alright... I think that’s everyone who exists in the films and books both.

So this still ended up as everyone :)

#chats #when I say I could complain about every scene in the films I could not be more serious #Anonymous #asks

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